DO NOT TICKLE THE SLEEPING DRAGON
CHAPTER THREE
THE EXACT IMPORTANCE OF WAFFLES AMONGST THE UNIVERSE, BECAUSE WAFFLES ARE REALLY YUMMY
OR
POLTERGEISTS, POTIONS AND PERMANENT RECORDS
"Lee."
Prod.
"Lee."
Prod.
"Lee."
Prod.
"Lee."
Prod.
"Lee, get up, we're-" Fred began, slapping the dark-skinned boy lightly over the eyes.
"I don't care," Lee muttered, growling and putting his pillow over his ears. "It's half past eleven. How are you two still awake?"
"Fine, then. Don't come exploring with us," George retorted, sticking his tongue out, despite Lee being unable to see him.
"Thank you…"
"Will you lot shut up?" A voice from the other side of the dormitory yelled tiredly.
"Alright, we're going, we're going!" George shouted back, affronted, before pulling his brother out of the room while grumbling about stupid dorm-mates who didn't understand the importance of exploring the place to be your home for the next seven years.
"To be fair," Fred reasoned, as they tried (and failed) to be quiet as they made their way down the stairs, "It is just before midnight and most of them got up early to pack."
"We didn't."
"No, because every time Percy came in to wake us up you shot sparks at him and he gave up by the sixth time, when you almost incinerated his eyebrows."
"Oh, yeah… that sounds familiar."
By this time the boys had reached the bottom of the stairs. True to form, Fred tripped on the final stair, landing sprawled at the feet of his brother and drawing the attention of everyone left in the Common Room.
"Well, since everyone is looking at us now…" George muttered, before raising his voice, "Good Evening Gryffindor!"
The occupants of the Common Room looked back at him blankly. From an armchair beside the fire Charlie stood up.
"You're planning on going exploring, aren't you?"
"…No…"
"Mum wants you to promise me not to wander off, not to blow anything up, and not to get caught doing something stupid within your first week."
"You know us, Charlie," Fred said, standing up.
"When would we do anything like that?" George went on, pushing his brother over again.
"Besides, when was the last time we blew anything up? It's been months since we blew anything up."
"You exploded Percy's pillow as soon as he got back from school."
"It's been weeks since we blew anything up."
"You detonated our breakfast last Monday. There was egg everywhere."
"It's been days since we blew anything up."
"You and Ginny exploded my suitcase last night when I was trying to pack."
"It's been hours since we blew anything up."
"You and Lee had a fight at dinner that ended in you prodding his chocolate mousse with your wand until it blew up in his face."
"It's been minutes since we-"
Something boomed from somewhere around the school. "Let me guess," Charlie said, "It's been seconds since you blew anything up?"
"Oh, come on, Charlie, that wasn't us, that was probably one of Snape's potions." George complained.
"Probably," Fred emphasised lop-sidedly, pulling George down on to the floor beside him by the ankle.
Charlie sighed as his brothers began to wrestle, and gave up. "Just don't get into trouble, alright?"
There came no responses.
This was mostly due to the fact that they were both rolling around on the floor trying to beat the other in a wrestling match.
"Good," he said, deciding to take that as a 'Yes, Charlie, of course, Charlie, we wouldn't want to get into trouble, Charlie' rather than an 'I've stopped caring about what you're saying'.
Unfortunately, he realised despondently as the boys somehow managed to roll out of the portrait hole, it was more likely to be the latter of the two.
George stood up, leaving his brother giggling on the floor. "This way, Fred," he announced, starting off down the corridor. Fred followed him, still grinning.
"Why can't I choose where we go?" Fred complained after the two begun trudging down the third set of stairs.
"Well, mostly because you were busy rolling around on the floor when we were deciding where to go."
"When you decided, you mean-"
"Oh, stop complaining. Hey, can you hear something?"
"No, that's you- wait. Yeah, I can hear something- OH! HOLY MOTHER OF MERLIN; WHAT IS THAT?"
"That," George called back amusedly as he jumped backwards into an alcove to escape firing range, "is Peeves. Don't you remember Percy complaining about him last year?"
"WHAT ARE YOU- GREAT GODRIC- GET IT OFF ME!"
Peeves was, as you may have realised, not a good thing. In fact, Peeves was a poltergeist- a ghost, of sorts.
George was enjoying himself. His brother was being attacked by various sticky, odorous substances, he was pretty comfy here in this alcove and, most importantly, he had just discovered a packet of Expelliarmus Sweets in his pocket.
"GEORGE! HELP ME!" Fred cried from under a barrage of ink balloons.
"No!" George shouted back, "This is for my pancakes last week! I was looking forward to those!"
"I didn't mean to blow them up! I was aiming for Ron's omelette!"
Suddenly, everything stopped. George stopped laughing, Peeves stopped throwing things and Fred subsequently stopped screaming about his brother's breakfasts. A presence had arrived in the corridor, bringing with it a swirling, curling mist and a heavy sense of desolation-
Well, alright, not quite. But it was still pretty scary, as both of the twins would later testify.
Striding (hobbling) down the corridor furiously was a terrifying (mildly creepy) figure, followed by a superior-looking, fear-inciting tiger (a smug-looking, scruffy, little cat): It was Filch, the caretaker.
"Students out of bed! Students out of bed!" Filch bellowed as he came up to the boys and pulled them towards him by the ear. They yelped in pain. Bringing their faces close to his, he lowered his voice to a throaty, malevolent tone and said, "Oh, you two are in trouble… so much trouble. My office, now."
As they followed the creaky caretaker, George wondered if he'd have any chocolate there, because he'd forgotten his Expelliarmus Sweets.
"You two. Sit," the caretaker said, and the twins did so.
"These chairs are kind of uncomfortable, do you mind if I-" Fred began, until George got him in the ribs with an elbow.
"Quiet. I am disciplining you! In my day children were respectful to their elders… they didn't go wandering all over the place at every time of night…. In my day, you would have been strung up by your ankles for this, you know," Filch said, turning to a dusty cabinet at the back of the room.
"In your day," George muttered to his twin, "Dinosaurs probably roamed the earth, but you don't go on about that, do you?"
Fred looked at him blankly. "What are dinosaurs?"
"Don't you know anything?"
"I thought I told you to be quiet! Ah, here we are," Filch said, pulling out a pair of empty folders from the filing cabinet. "Do you know what these are, boys?"
"Are they some kind of book?" George suggested helpfully, circling his head questioningly.
"No, that's not-" Filch looked mildly confused, his eyes switching between the twins.
"Maybe they're presents! What have you got for us, Filch? What've you got?" Fred clapped his hands excitedly, reaching out for the folders.
"No!" Filch shouted, startling them into silence, "That was a rhetorical question!" The boys let out sighs of realisation. "These are your permanent records."
There was a pause. After a moment, George broke it, saying, "So, are you going to explain what you're talking about, or just leave us sitting here in silence...?"
"I was getting to that!" Filch snapped, "It was just a pause for dramatic emphasis! Not that either of you cretins would know what that meant, I suppose…" He trailed off, and then began again. "Anyway, your permanent records are a file of all of your misdeeds and bad behaviour-"
"So it's a bit like a diary?" Fred asked.
"No! It's nothing like a diary!"
"Ah, more of a journal then," George nodded knowledgeably.
Beside him Fred murmured into his ear happily, "He looks like he's going to explode…"
"It's not a diary or a journal! It's a record!"
"Yes, Mr Filch," Fred nodded consolingly, patting his hand comfortingly, "We all know it's a record."
"For Merlin's sake! Fine, I'll fill this in myself if you Nargle-bogeys just go back to bed and leave me alone."
"What are you talking about, Mr Filch?" George said innocently, cocking his head to the left.
"What's a Nargle?" Fred said curiously, cocking his head to the right.
"I've had enough of you two. It's only my first day on the job, and already you've single-handedly destroyed the seventh floor Arithmancy corridor-"
"Hey, Peeves had a hand in that too-" Fred protested.
"GET OUT!"
The boys did so, scampering up to their dormitory before Filch could recall that he was supposed to be punishing them.
"Good Morning!"
Lee's cheery greeting was welcomed with double grunts.
"Get up, Fred, George."
Fred didn't say anything, merely groaning again and throwing a pillow in Lee's general direction. It missed by several inches.
"Go away, Lee, we're trying to sleep," George elaborated.
"It's half past seven."
"Exactly," George rolled over and promptly fell asleep again. Lee rolled his eyes and left the room for breakfast, pulling his bag over his shoulder on the way out from his bed beside the door.
About an hour later, the twins were possibly regretting not getting up earlier.
By which I mean that they were running to their first Potions lesson.
"Why do… our Potions lessons… have to be so… far away?" George panted as they flew down a flight of stairs.
"Why didn't we… listen to Lee?" Fred countered, tripping over a step and rolling to the bottom. "Ouch," he muttered, standing up again and following as his brother raced past him.
"Why are there… no easier ways… to classes?"
"Shut up and move quicker!" shouted Lee from a few strides behind them.
"Wait a moment… Lee?" George questioned, slowing a little to allow the others to catch up.
"I got lost."
"Ahhh," the boys nodded in understanding. Fred added, "If only… you'd come… exploring with us… last night-"
"-then you'd… know the way to… class already," George finished.
Arriving outside the Potions classroom, the boys took a moment to catch their breath.
"Good morning, Mr Weasley, Mr Weasley, Mr Jordan. I see you are late for my class."
"Actually, Professor," Lee corrected, "We are exactly on time for your class."
"Maybe you're just early to your class," Fred suggested helpfully.
Professor Snape, the Potions master, sneered at him (which really didn't change his face at all; he always looked pretty unimpressed with everything and everyone around him) down his hooked nose, and shoved them into the classroom in front of him. "Sit. Pay attention. And DON'T blow anything up. I've heard about you two," he glared at the Weasley Twins, "and something tells me I'm not going to like either of you."
Suffice to say, their first Potions lesson didn't go too well.
"For your first Potions lesson, you shall be making nothing."
"Awww," Fred muttered, disappointed, having been looking forward to ruining Snape's first impression of him by blowing something up in his face.
"Instead, you are all going to complete these basic Aptitude Tests."
"Yes!" George punched the air. Most of the class stared at him, utterly bemused. "Sorry, what?"
"Basic. Aptitude. Tests. Although, Mr Weasley, perhaps I will be able to predict your score from here?"
"I thought he said 'making a mess'," he whispered to Fred, who nodded sadly and sympathetically.
"Yes, I'd hoped for that too."
Lee was mouthing the words 'Basic Aptitude Test' and 'Making A Mess' repeatedly, attempting to figure out how the two phrases could be confused. Eventually he came to the conclusion that it was quite possible the twins hadn't been listening to anything from 'Making' onwards and had just assumed the most likely outcome of a combination of Potions and The Twins: a mess.
Some way through the test, when Fred tried to cheat off George and discovered that George was already cheating off him, Professor Snape wondered why he had become a teacher.
As he sat at his desk, watching the two boys trying to beat each other with rolled up Aptitude Tests, he decided he should have taken up a far safer profession such as working in Customer Service or as a Dragon Tamer.
The rest of the day passed in a blur of difficult lessons for Lee and cries of 'He cheated!' 'Get away from my Geraniums!' and 'DETENTION!' for the Twins.
In Transfiguration, as everyone else was attempting to turn their matches into needles, Fred and George set fire to Lee's dreadlocks.
In Herbology, Lee found himself tied to a Murtagh Plant, again by his dreadlocks.
In History of Magic Lee began to consider having his dreadlocks removed as the Weasleys tried several styles out on him- from Rita Skeeter to Dumbledore.
By the end of the day he had vowed revenge on them, and so snuck Salt into the treacle tart. The Twins, of course, blamed each other for this, and it was not until he was able to sink into bed that he escaped the yells of 'My treacle!' and 'My tart!'
Their second day at Hogwarts began with Fred's wonderful and apparently completely true (on his mother's life!) ("Hey! That's my mother too, you know," George cried) recounting of his dream.
"So then the dragon opened its mouth and started breathing fire at me! Of course, I pulled out my wand and blasted it backwards like that, and then the dragon started talking. It said 'Get up, Fred, or I'll eat all the waffles!' and then it turned into George and then I woke up and it was George!"
"Wow," George said, plucking a waffle from his twin's plate, "Scarily accurate, that was. Funny, I had that exact same dream; except the dragon was mum and she breathed syrup instead of fire."
"I wish mum really breathed syrup," Fred said sadly.
"Don't we all," Lee sighed, shaking his head in disappointment.
"Pass the honey-" and then, realising that his brother was eating waffles that did not belong to his brother, he said, "Oh, just have them!" and threw one of them at George's face.
George ducked, and the sticky waffle landed at the feet of…
"Good morning, Mr Weasley, Mr Weasley, Mr Jordan."
"Good morning, Professor McGonagall!" the twins chorused.
"Hey, Prof Mc-Gee," Lee said, grinning. "Toast?" he offered.
"No, thank you, Jordan. And if you ever call me that again I will personally ensure that you fail every Transfiguration exam from now to Seventh Year."
"Sure thing, Prof- Professor."
"Mr Weasley-"
"Yes?" said George.
"No, not you, the other one."
"Yes?" said Fred, hoping it was nothing to do with waffles.
"As much as I love being greeted by waffles-"
"I do not know how that happened," Fred interrupted instantly, "In fact it must have spontaneously formed around your feet."
"Of course it did. Mr Weasley, if you do not clean this mess up by the time I return with your detention slips you shall be eating it from the floor."
"Hey, I didn't throw it!" George protested.
"Not you, the other one!"
"Oh."
"You are both to report to Mr Filch as soon as dinner is finished. He shall be waiting for you at the top of the Astronomy Tower."
"Do you reckon he's planning to push you off?" Lee questioned, picking up the waffle, since it was unlikely that anybody else would do so.
"Nah, Filch couldn't do that to us! We're his special detendees! He saves all the best detentions for us," Fred claimed, pouring ketchup over George's plate of waffles.
George shrugged and ate them anyway. "Is detendees a word?"
"Goodness, children these days," Professor McGonagall muttered as she stalked off.
George turned to Lee. "Professor Mc-Gee, I like it. You know Lee, you're like the brother I never had."
"You have five brothers, one of which is me," Fred informed him indignantly.
"Alright then. Lee, you're like the twin I never had."
"I'm right here!"
"I think I should start calling you Fred."
"Is this about the waffles? Because I can get you more waffles!"
"Yes, this is about the waffles! I love waffles! And you just, you threw it, you threw the waffle!"
"Wow," Lee said quietly, nonplussed. The Weasley Twins sure were a change from his own family, who liked to eat breakfast in absolute silence and none of whom really had a sense of humour. "Wow," he repeated.