Chapter 3
Author's Note: In honor of Fred and George's birthday, here's a new chapter! Thanks for reading, and much thanks to Wizards-Pupil, Crazy-Obsessed-Writer52, DrakeFan077, Teleliniel, Annonymous Amethyst, xXSarcasmAndCakeXx, and TwinzLover for reviewing.
-Harkinian
Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling is the god and creator of these wonderful characters, locations, etc. I am simply borrowing them for my own entertainment.
Fred Weasley woke up to a loud thumping noise coming from the room next to his. He groaned and turned onto his side, willing the thump, thump away. He was blessed with no such luck.
He threw back his covers, got out of bed, and stalked into his brother's room, which was in a total state of disarray. Clothes were strewn about the space, as well as several pairs of shoes, a few experimental products the twins had given up on developing, tattered old books, and, for some reason, lots of forks. George himself was standing in front of his now empty closet.
"George, what in Merlin's good name are you doing? It's seven in the morning!"
"Spring cleaning, mate. I advise you do the same."
Fred crossed his arms. "My dear brother, have you suffered a head injury lately? Because the last time I checked, you never cleaned anything. Ever. At all."
George hurled a boot at Fred's head. Fred veered to the side, but his morning grogginess hindered him from completely dodging the object. The boot hit his left shoulder, and Fred grunted in surprise at the pain.
"Don't hurt me, Gred! That was unnecessary."
"Then don't ridicule my compulsions, Forge!"
"I can't help if your compulsions are of the housemaid kind and thus totally worthy of ridicule-" Fred managed to dodge the blue book thrown at his head this time. He guffawed as more objects, thrown by an irritated George, came his way. The onslaught of flying objects ceased when they heard a soft sound from the closet. It sounded like a cross between a meow and a squeak.
"Fred..." George darted his eyes from his closet to his twin. "Did you just hear what I just heard?"
"Yes, I did. What do you reckon that is? It sounded like a cat or a mouse. A ca-mouse…or a mo-at."
A loud scratching started up, and the mew-squeaks turned into hostile growls. George backed away from his closet and into a pile of books. "Should we should summon Creature Control?" he asked.
"No! We could lose our business license for harboring an unregistered creature!" Fred exclaimed, panicked at the thought of this mystery beast destroying their business. "C'mon, it doesn't sound that dangerous. Let's have a look, shall we?"
With that, Fred approached the empty space that was George's closet, George following close behind him. Fred peeked into the darkness of the closet and found a pair of narrowed, neon green eyes staring at him.
"Merlin's socks, what is that?" George asked quietly.
"Those are eyes, brother," Fred replied flatly. As his own blue ones adjusted to the shadows he saw the creature's form: catlike, with a smooshed, pudgy face and a thin, long, and hairless tail. It was not a pretty sight (actually, it was revolting), but he was now pretty certain the beast was not dangerous. If it had wanted to attack them, it would have done so already. George, on the other hand, did not share his confidence.
"We should contact Creature Control. It looks evil."
"I told you, George, that's bad for the shop!"
"Then what do we do? Stand here and wait for it to come out and eat us?"
Fred snapped his fingers. "I know what we'll do. We'll get Hermione!"
"What? What good would Hermione do for us?"
"She could help us find a way to get rid of it." With that, Fred sent Hermione a plea for help through his patronus.
Although disgruntled at having a silver fox pounce on and yell at her in Fred's voice so early in the morning, Hermione flooed over to the twins' flat. The Weasleys were good bosses, and they had helped her out of trouble on more than one occasion. It would be ungrateful of her not to return the favor.
However, clad in her dressing gown and standing in front of George's closet, she could not figure out what the thing was.
"And this cat-mouse just showed up randomly in your closet?" she asked.
"I swear, I had no idea it was living in there!" George answered. "It never disturbed me before..."
Hermione sighed and waved her wand a few more times in vain, hoping her identification spells would reveal what the thing was. Unfortunately, the spells did no more than make the thing hiss menacingly.
She sighed in frustration, hands on her hips. "Should we lure it out? We can't stand here all day looking at it, you know, " Hermione commented. Fred grunted in agreement.
"Alright, let's bait it. I've got a catnip lying around here somewhere..." Hermione raised an eyebrow at Fred.
"Catnip? Really?"
"I'm just chockfull of surprises, aren't I, Miss Granger?"
"I've known you long enough, Fred, that nothing you do could surprise me," Hermione said, smiling.
Her smile quickly dissolved into a frown when the catnip plan failed to work. This little monster in the closet was proving to be quite the adversary for the clever witch and the two entrepreneurial wizards.
"Damn this!" George finally cried out in frustration. "I've got work to do. Let's just pull it out!" Before Fred and Hermione could do anything more than exchange startled looks, George marched into his closet and reached for the creature. It hissed and pounced on the offending Weasley, scratching George on the fore arm before slinking further back into the darkness.
George passed out as blood started to trickle from the wound. Pale-faced and panicked, Fred transferred his brother onto his bed and attempted to staunch the bleeding with a healing spell and a small tub of blue ointment. Meanwhile, for the second time in a week, Hermione sent a message to the one person whom she knew would be able to identify the beast: Luna Lovegood.
Luna showed up as soon as Hermione relayed her message. The blond's long locks were pulled into an elegant twist, her golden dress robes of the finest quality and inappropriate for identifying the possibly homicidal monster in George's closet.
The naturalist was all business, though, as she stepped into the closet and faced down the pair of narrowed green eyes. Hermione and Fred sat for several moments at George's bedside, watching.
About a minute after Luna entered the closet, she walked out again, carrying the ugly creature in her arms.
"Merlin's beard, what is that thing?" Fred asked, eying the monster's long, gray hair with distaste.
"It's a Kneazelat. Part kneazle, part rat," the blond answered, scratching the beast's floppy ears and inciting weird sounding purrs from it.
"It's not dangerous, is it? Could it be carrying an infectious disease? It scratched George!" Hermione cried anxiously. Luna shifted her gaze onto the unconscious red haired man on the bed. Fred's healing spell had not worked in closing the thin, red wound, and the blue ointment had had merely stemmed the flow of blood.
"The wound may become infected if not treated properly," Luna answered.
"Balls," Fred said. "Should we transport him to St. Mungo's?" He squeezed his brother's arm, eyeing George's unmoving form nervously.
"Don't worry. I can heal him myself," Luna said. She produced her wand and tapped it twice against the head of the now calm Kneazelat. It disappeared, leaving long gray hairs clinging to her otherwise immaculate dress robes. Luna didn't seem to mind. She took out a small snuff bottle from her purse and held it up to George's nose.
"He needs to be conscious for this spell to work." When George finally opened his eyes, Luna sent a stream of white light at the long scratch on his arm. The scratch almost immediately knit itself together, the skin regaining its original texture.
George looked down at his healed arm. "Gee, thanks, Luna." He smiled as both Fred and Hermione let out sighs of relief.
"What spell was that?" Fred asked, intrigued.
"Animum servare," Luna said. "It's very useful."
"I'll keep it in mind the next time George does something stupid," Hermione said. "And by the way, George, promise me you'll never go touching things which ought not be touched!" Hermione shouted.
George rolled his eyes. "Yes, Hermione. I promise from this day forward to never, ever inappropriately touch things." He earned himself a punch to the arm from the bushy haired witch and a loud laugh from his twin.
"Careful, woman, I was just scratched there, by a...blimey, what was that thing? And where did it go?" George looked around the room with a wary gaze.
"A Kneazelat," Luna answered nonchalantly. "And it's gone now. I transported it to a safe location. I will have a colleague of mine take it to a suitable living environment, so rest assured no harm will come to it."
George grumbled at bit ("No harm will come to it? Bah!"), as both Fred and Hermione expressed their genuine gratitude towards Luna. Fred was especially apologetic for the condition of her golden gown now covered with gray Kneazelat hairs.
"Oh, it's fine," Luna said, using her wand to remove the long, coarse hairs. "But I'm afraid I can't stay any longer. I was preparing to attend a wedding, actually. I should go now to finish my preparations."
"Right," George said. "Thank you so very much, Luna. Really. If you hadn't come I probably would've, well, not died but something more along the lines of being so severely damaged that-"
"What my brother is trying to say," Fred interrupted, "is that he is very grateful his knight-and-shining armor came to save him, and will now shut up and let aforementioned knight leave." He elbowed George in the ribs. "Because she's busy."
"See you all around," Luna said. With a wave, she walked out of the bedroom to floo away.
Hermione patted George on the arm before standing to leave herself.
"It's been an eventful morning, gentlemen. I think I'll go now," she said.
Fred stood as well, following her to the fire place. "Thanks for coming when I called. And so early in the morning, too."
Hermione shrugged. "You've both helped me out before. I figured I'd return the favor, you know?"
"Ah yes, I still remember that thing with Ron and the sink as though it happened just yesterday-"
"Shut your mouth, Fred Weasley! I thought you promised to never discuss that incident ever again!"
Fred chuckled. "I may have promised not to discuss it, but I can reminisce fondly about it, can't I?"
Hermione rolled her eyes before stepping into the fireplace whose black dust clung to her slippers. Reaching for the floo powder, she remembered she had something to give to Fred.
She reached into her dressing gowns' pocket and took out the small thank you card she had written last night. After shoving it into Fred's hand, she flooed away, but not before she saw his lips pull upwards into a grin.
Once she stepped out of her own fireplace, Hermione proceeded into her bedroom. Today was a day for research, so she didn't have to go to the shop. The temptation to crawl back into bed was strong. But she felt too awake, so she instead decided to take a shower.
As the hot water streamed down her back, Hermione wondered about Luna Lovegood helping her and the twins out for the second time in two days. Both times had involved one George Weasley, a realization that led Hermione to wonder if the potion had any hand in it. But then again when they had first called on her George hadn't yet drunken the potion. Still, Hermione thought, it's a situation worth following. Besides, if Luna is George's fated love, then I'll have won that bet with Fred.
Putting on her clothes, Hermione found her thoughts straying to how Fred might have been feeling about George's relationship with Angelina. Fred and Angelina had dated before, on and off throughout Hogwarts and for a year afterwards, she knew, but Hermione never was able to determine whether their relationship had been serious or casual. Bah, Hermione thought as she stuck her foot into a sock, why am I so concerned anyway? Stop thinking about this nonsense, Hermione!
Padding into her kitchen, standing in front of her opened refrigerator, Hermione faced a dilemma. With so many new food stuffs in her possession, she could not figure out what she wanted for breakfast. She had narrowed her choices down to Belgian waffles or French toast when she a noticed a green light flash in her living room. A second later, a giddy Ginny Weasley walked in.
"Hermione!" she shouted.
"Ginny! Good morning!" Hermione said, surprised at her friend's sudden appearance. "What's going on?"
"You won't believe what happened last night!" Ginny bounced on the balls of her feet, waving her hands excitedly in front of her, and saying "Merlin, Merlin" over and over again. Hermione eyed her anxiously.
"What' happened?"
"Dean proposed! He proposed!"
Hermione opened her mouth in shock before pulling her friend into a hug.
"Merlin, that's wonderful! When? Where? How?"
As Hermione prepared her waffles, Ginny told her how Dean had returned late last night from his reporters' conference in Spain and took her to their favorite spot, a cliff overlooking a gorgeous beach, for a late night meal. After they ate, Dean set dozens of enchanted lanterns into the sky that arranged themselves into a question mark. Dean had a ring in his hands when Ginny turned around to face him.
"It was perfect, Hermione!" Ginny finished with a sigh. "Of course, I said yes!"
Hermione smiled. "I'm really happy for you Ginny! It sounds so wonderful. I wish I were there to have seen it!"
Ginny hugged her friend again. "I wish everyone had been there to see it, but since they weren't, I guess I'll have to go tell them about it myself."
"You told me before you told your mum?"
Ginny laughed. "Yes! You are the first person I'm telling this news to! Oh, and by the way, would you be my maid of honor? Please?"
"Merlin! I…of course I will!"
After several more feminine squeals of happiness Hermione hoped her neighbors hadn't heard, grinning she watched Ginny floo to the Burrow. Walking back into her kitchen and summoning a plate and a glass before her, Hermione let out a small, rueful sigh. Yes, she was happy for Ginny, but Hermione had always assumed she and Ron would be married first, then Ginny and Harry, but obviously that hadn't worked out for either couple.
She and Ron had had their fun, but at the end of the day, the differences in their interests and aspirations proved to be too large of a canyon between them. Hermione had opted to continue her NEWT level education at Hogwarts after the war; Ron pursued his professional Quidditch playing dreams. The long distance relationship didn't work well for either of them, so they split on friendly terms right before Hermione's graduation.
However, on rare occasions, Hermione still wondered whether breaking up with Ron had been the best decision. Ron was stable, constant, and solid. They might have made it if they had put more energy into their relationship. But they hadn't, so now Ginny was getting married before her…
Shut it, Hermione told herself, I'm twenty years old. I can't afford to entertain these teenaged fantasies about marriage anymore.
Hermione spent the rest of her day researching new products for the twins. It was a liberating business that involved her apparating to wild fields and old book shops all over Britain, hunting down rare ingredients and recipes that might inspire the creation of new money spinners. Some days, her research entailed scoping out Weasley Wizards' Wheezes primary competitor, Gorgen's Gags, a chain of shops that had sprung up in the months after the end of the war.
Doing all this for Fred and George was, of course, a far cry from what everyone had expected of Hermione after graduation.
About three-fourths of the way into her seventh year at Hogwarts, Hermione had been offered a position as an Unspeakable at the Ministry of Magic. The job was guaranteed to her once she graduated, so long as she pledged herself to being an Unspeakable for the rest of her life. After graduating with the highest marks in her NEWTs, Hermione was certain she wanted to take up the Ministry's offer, but after three months of intense training at the Department of Mysteries, she started having recurring nightmares of being stuck in the Death Chamber for days on end, with nothing but the whispers coming from behind the veil as company. Whenever she dreamed of this, she'd awake in a cold sweat, shaking in fear. Knowing these dreams probably were not good omens, Hermione resigned a month before her official swearing in.
Those who knew her were understandably confused at her decision to quit, because they all believed Hermione Granger, the smartest witch of her age, would have made a brilliant Unspeakable. But when they asked the witch about it, she told them, "It's not really what I want to do." Hermione only told Harry and Ron what really turned her off from the job, and they both agreed not pursuing the position was probably best for her mental health.
"What are you going to do then?" Harry had asked her at the Burrow one August evening.
Before she could come up with an answer, the Weasley twins, who had been stealthily sneaking glances at the talented brunette, swooped into the conversation.
Fred seated himself on the couch to Hermione's right and cleared his throat. "Miss Granger," he said.
"Enchanting, wonderful, marvelous, Hermione!" George added, hopping onto the seat to Hermione's left.
"We—George and I—were hoping you would spare us a few moments out of your evening to listen to a proposition we have for you."
"Yes, Hermione. Will you spare us, your doting admirers, a minute or two?"
Hermione hesitated for a good long second, trying to decipher whether they were pranking her, but eventually shrugged in assent. "Alright, what's got your knickers in a twist?"
"George and I propose you come work for us," Fred said with a smile.
Hermione blinked in surprise. What? They want want me to work for them? "You want me to work for you?" she asked.
"Yes," George answered quickly. "We realize you are in need of a job, and we are in need of a business partner."
"And we can't just hire anyone," added Fred. "He or she must be extremely competent, preferably very intelligent and well-spoken, as well as somebody we could trust with our lives…and wallets." Hermione scoffed.
"And no matter how much we thought about whom we wanted to hire, our thoughts just kept returning to you, 'Mione."
Hermione crossed her arms and looked back and forth between each twin with her eyebrows raised. What were they playing at? True, she needed a job, but the Ministry, despite her turning down a position at the Department of Mysteries, still inundated her with offers at other departments-high level jobs that paid well. But the thought of not being in an office all day was nice. Plus, she wouldn't be working at the Ministry whose narrow corridors still made her jittery. But was giving up a hefty salary to be a shop girl worth it? Probably not.
"You're going to have to convince me to work for you," she told them after a few seconds of thought. "Because I don't know how satisfying my life would be as a shop girl."
"Ah, but that's the thing, Hermione. You would not be just a shop girl."
"Aye, didn't you hear what we said? We want you to be our business partner."
Business partner? Now that was a different matter altogether. "And what exactly would I be doing as a business partner, Fred?"
"Lots of things. Fun, exciting things. You see, being in business exposes you to all the action, where all the latest and greatest innovations are happening. You will not believe how many new, magical designs George and I have encountered these last few years alone."
"Tons of things you could not even dream of," George added. "Granted, most are still in the testing stage-"
"But are expected to become huge when refined and released to the public," Fred continued. "Furthermore, if you come work for us, we will send you to places like Germany, to learn their latest discoveries in transfiguration. Or to America to check out their latest breakthroughs in defensive magic. Or even to Egypt, to research at the ancient Library at Alexandria…"
Hermione sat up straight at the mention of the library. "But I thought it was destroyed in 391!"
"Not the magical branch," George said. "Trust us. We've seen it."
"Oh." Hermione's head whirled at the possibility of visiting the largest and most significant library in the history of mankind for work.
Fred and George smirked at each other, knowing the brainy witch was hooked. All they had to do now was reel her in.
But the rational side of Hermione hadn't flown out the window yet. She realized she didn't know the first thing about business.
"But you won't be doing much of the technical business stuff anyway," George said.
"I'm going to be a business partner, aren't I? Don't you think I should learn at least the basics?"
"And you can't learn the basics from us? You have to have the textbook formula, don't you?" Fred asked.
"No! I just want to learn the economic theories, the strategies that have proven to work effectively-"
Fred raised a hand. "Okay, fine! How about we send you to the Wharton School of Business in Pennsylvania to learn the basics? Sound good?"
Hermione's jaw dropped. The Wharton School of Business at the University of Pennsylvania in the U.S. Was one of the best business schools in the world. As a child she had so admired a cousin of hers who had graduated from Wharton and started a computer company. He was now a multi-millionaire.
"But," Hermione's reasonable side answered, "surely the Muggle world of business differs from the that of the magical world. And what about the cost? Not to mention, I need to apply in order to get in."
"You'll take a condensed semester-long course, at the Wharton Magical Business Institute," George answered. "And don't worry a thing about the application and recommendations and whatnot. We've already sorted that all for you." He winked at Fred, knowing there was no way Hermione could say no now.
"Are you so desperate to have me?" Hermione asked.
"Yes," Fred replied coolly.
"Well, then…" Hermione looked back and forth between the twins. "I'll think about it," she told them with a smirk. Harry, who had been pushed to the edge of the couch by the two Weasleys, laughed at Fred and George's simultaneous groans of exasperation.
A week later, after considering and rejecting the offers the Ministry had extended to her, Hermione agreed she would work for the twins. They in turn surprised her with a detailed, written contract. "We know how much you love to read," Fred had said when he laid the contract in front of her. "So here are a lot of words for you to peruse."
After a careful read through (or two or three), Hermione found that the terms described by the twins were more than favorable, and having signed the contract, she arrived in Philadelphia in September to start the fall term. At Wharton she learned a load of business strategies and schemes that the Weasley twins later incorporated into their transactions.
The Weasleys had made made good on their word to send Hermione on trips to other countries. A week after her term at Wharton ended, they sent her to Egypt to research rare incantations and potions' recipes. Hermione had found an enormous old book at a stall at an open air market, and after much haggling she brought the book back to England. It was in this book, Potio Potens, that George found the recipe for the Fate potion.
Recalling all of this as she took a break from reading Cavalier's Craziest Cracks by Devyn Dyrk, Hermione felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude towards Fred and George. If she had any other job she could not be doing what she was doing now: sipping a glass of butterbeer in a little pub in Scotland. No, she probably would be sitting in a cramped office illuminated by artificial lights, pulling her hair out at one matter or another. Not that she didn't do any hair-pulling while working at WWW; she just had two other brilliant wizards to help her solve her problems.