FOUR
Fred was positively ecstatic, in less than two weeks he and George managed to perfect their whole Skivving Snackboxes set and were now creating more and more boxes and sending them off through an owl order service they had set up using Harry's owl, Hedwig. Fred had forgotten about Adelaide, or tried to at least. At night when he was in the dream-like state before sleep he couldn't stop himself, her eyes would swim into his vision and her laughter would fill his ears. At night, Adelaide was everywhere.
"Oi! C'mere you two, I don't care if you're busy we're playing Quidditch!" Ron yelled from the broom shed, he chucked Fred's and George's Cleansweeps to the ground and then turned to Hermione who was standing with her hands on her hips.
"Honestly Ron, I'm going to fall off my broom! Oh don't give me that look, I am not playing, no Ron!" She crossed her arms over her chest and turned away from him. Fred and George sniggered as they crept up behind her.
"Too afraid to fly fifty feet in the air then?" George asked, slinking his broom over his shoulder.
"How cowardly of you Hermione, I thought you were a Gryffindor? You know we haven't got any bludgers, only a bewitched – er – what's this called again?" Fred asked Ginny, pointing to the black and white ball with odd shapes all over it.
"A football, it's a Muggle sport ball, we use it as the quaffle, and then this –" she held up a small bright green ball that wiggled feebly in her grasp, "as the bludger, Bill and Charlie enchanted them years ago, brilliant how enchantments last that long isn't it?" Fred and George shrugged in agreement while Hermione glanced at the balls with an approving look on her face.
"Fine," she said flatly, bending down to pick up a broom. "I'll play, but I want one of those." She pointed to the large wooden bat that Fred was now swinging about, he shook his head madly.
"No way, I molded Sheena from a large tree branch George and I found in the woods. No way are you going to take her from me!" He clutched 'Sheena' to his chest and glared at Hermione who stared at him in disbelief.
"Well if you expect me to be a Keeper, or a Chaser you're wrong. I want to be a Beater, so I can hit the balls instead of worrying about catching them, or them hitting me!" She growled, stamping her foot on the floor. Fred raised his eyebrows at George sending the mental message 'Did she really just stamp her foot?' George nodded in agreement and they both chuckled with laughter.
"Fine, fine I'll give you mine. I haven't grown too attached to it like my dear brother has." George cocked his head towards Fred who was now hovering above the ground slightly on his broom and organizing the teams with Harry and Ron while gentle stroking 'Sheena'.
Fred stood on the ground below the field where they played Quidditch; it was in the middle of a forest just beyond their property, the trees had been cleared away and six of them had been molded into hoops by Charlie and Bill years ago and now stood at each end of the 'pitch' fifty feet in the air.
"Everyone ready? Remember, we play for the most points, not who catches the snitch first because we haven't got one!" He called up, watching George and Ron take their place in front of the hoops. Hermione shifted slightly and almost fell off her broom but regained balance quickly. Fred threw the tennis ball into the air, and then the soccer ball and then followed them into the air, taking a swing at the tennis ball and sending it rocketing at the back of Harry's head.
The game had begun.
"I wonder what mum's made for dinner." Ginny contemplated as the teens touched back to the ground after the game. Fred's team (which consisted of himself, Ron, and Harry) had lost magnificently to George's team by sixty points before finally Hermione had declared that she'd had enough and claimed that Mrs. Weasley would want them home in time for dinner.
"Dunno," George said, chucking his broom into the shed and strolling towards Ginny. "But you could ask her, she's coming right now…" His voice trailed off as his mother strode across the lawn clutching several large purple envelopes in her hand. He turned to Fred who was staring horrified at his mother now gazing up at them both with an accusing stare. They knew those purple envelops very, very well.
"Did you two think that you could get away with this?" She asked in an unusually calm voice, George had expected her to be yelling and screaming in fury.
"Get away with what?" Fred asked, "We're not doing anything wrong, George when have we ever done anything wrong?" George opened his mouth to speak but was cut off.
"Not – doing – anything – wrong?" Molly repeated through gritted teeth, the other children scurried into the house, too afraid to watch up-front what would happen to the twins.
"Yeah, they're just a few harmless order forms, for business mum you underst-" Fred's explanation was cut off as Mrs. Weasley threw the folders at him.
"I UNDERSTAND? YOU THINK I UNDERSTAND ALL OF – THESE –THE – STUPID PRANKS YOU PLAY ON PEOPLE!"
"They're not stupid!" The twins yelled in unison, clenching their fists.
"OH YES THEY ARE!" Mrs. Weasley roared, her plump face turning redder and redder as the seconds ticked by. "I WILL NOT ALLOW THIS – THIS – DISASTER OF A DREAM TO CONTINUE! YOU ARE – JUST –" She broke off and stood before the twins shaking her head in disapproval, her eyes glistening.
Fred made to pick up the order forms but when he did, they disappeared into ash. He gaped at his mother. "WHAT DID YOU JUST DO?" He screamed, kneeling on the grass, George stared at the ash in shock. Had their mother just destroyed their business forms? Yes, she had. How could she do something like that?
"I did what was right!" She said in a voice unlike her own, this voice was cold and mean. "If I see another order form, or Toffee, or any other kind of – of – disasters you two have been fooling around with you regret ever being born!" Mrs. Weasley jabbed her wand in the direction of her two sons before stomping across the yard and into the back door leaving Fred and George kneeling in the rough grass mourning over the loss of their handwritten order forms.
"What are we going to do now?" Fred moaned, trying his hardest not to cry.
"Brilliant, dad's home with the tickets, bring 'em here dad!" George exclaimed jumping up from his favourite armchair in the sitting room. Their mother was knitting peacefully by the fire, the morning work had been tended too and it was now time for her to relax. Harry, Ron and Hermione had wondered off to the village, Ginny was lounging about on the rug playing with Crookshanks and Fred was sitting by the window tapping the ledge nervously.
"Right you are George!" Mr. Weasley exclaimed as he swooped down to his wife giving her a kiss on the cheek. "Ten box tickets for The Quidditch World Cup!" George wrapped his fingers around the shiny golden ticket stubs emblazed with elegant purple writing.
"Now, now, give them here George. I've got to keep them in a safe place before the match. They can't just keep replacing lost tickets every time someone loses some! Imagine that?" He pondered, sinking into the couch and staring around at his family.
"Fred hun, would you make your father and me a cuppa while you're in there?" Molly didn't need to look up from her knitting to notice that her son was now pacing nervously across the kitchen, his hands pulled behind his back and his eyes glancing every so often at the window.
Fred robotically put the kettle on the stove and waited for it to heat before adding the water to the cups with tea bags and carrying each saucer over to his parents without saying a word. He glanced once and George who moved his head a fraction of an inch down and then back up. The plan was going perfectly.
"Oh, Arthur what is that at the window?" Molly dropped her needles and pointed to the small figure hurtling towards them at top speed. "Arthur … is that Pig?"
Fred held his arm out as Pigwidgeon flew through the window, he missed Fred's outstretched arm and skidded along the length of the table and fell off onto the hardwood floor. Molly shrieked and both Fred and George dived for the owl, Fred scrambled to untie the bright purple folders while George scooped the small owl into his hands before they both sprinted past their parents and up the rickety stairs towards their second floor bedroom.
"OH DAMMIT ARTHUR!" They heard their mother screech as the twins hurtled into their bedrooms. "Did you see what Pig was carrying? The purple folders Arthur! The order forms for their joke items!"
"Honestly Molly, I – sit down," the shuffling of footsteps could be heard and then Arthur's voice followed, "I don't see what's wrong with the twins' jokes. Granted of course they may do more harm than good at first but I can only imagine what they're creating and I have faith in them. All those items required a vast understanding of magic, you cannot deny that Molly. Our twins are smart - they may not have many OWL's to prove it but they are Molly! You must see that."
"But Arthur, what if they fail? What if by the time they've finished school they still haven't gone anywhere? We can't just keep them here forever!"
"Molly, I'm certain that they will be successful in whatever career they choose. Please, just give them a chance, they are very clever boys."
"Smart boys, did you just call them smart? They only got three OWLs each! What happened with them? Bill, Charlie, and Percy they were all smart and respectful … I don't understand …" Fred closed the door softly and turned to his brother who was leaning against the back wall with his arms crossed.
"Are we stupid?" Fred whispered, sinking onto the rug and frowning. How could a mother say such a thing about her sons?
"No." George answered, staring out the window. "We're not; mum just hasn't seen our full potential yet."
"What if we haven't got any … you know potential?" Fred asked quietly, staring up into the eyes of his brother who stared back. George knew that this was one of the moments where Fred actually thought about what he said; it was times like these when Fred showed his emotions.
"We do, we just haven't shown anyone yet."