-(3 hours later)-

I heard my friend over the phone mention something about meeting her at the train station. I tried that, and…

In short, here's my theory:

It's a very bad idea to follow cute boys through walls to apparently another dimension that shouldn't exist. It's also a very bad idea to slip into a luggage cart and manage to sneak yourself into a high-security area where apparently they—possibly a cult with an obsession with long black robes—like to chuck people off at a nearby town.

So, here I am. I think I saw a sign a little ways off that mentions something about a Hog's Heart or something? Anyway, it's freezing, I think I'm a little ways outside the already freezing London (there's not much sun even in summer), and I've just been meandering about for a while.

The sight's really amazing, though. Snowflakes litter the sky like stars at night, and everything's covered in snow. The scene's absolutely breathtaking… I puff out, and amuse myself with the resultant white puffs in front of my face. After a while, though, the white-fog grows bothersome and I start to head over to a joke shop a little ways down the street.

A group of rowdy men strut down the street. I hear them, however barely:

"You said Jamison didn't want any part of it! Now look where we are!"

"—But how's this my fault?"

"Well, gee, I don't know—we Apparated to the wrong town, possibly!"

"—Well, possibly—"

"—Possibly you'll keep your neck when Bellatrix is done with you—"

"—Right, nothing to be afraid of, then…" The man who said this suddenly stares down at his feet as he walks. He looks oddly like one of the boys on the train—probably a father or something. His long, silvery-blonde hair frams a sharp face, and when his and everyone else's eyes dart over to me when I gasp upon slipping on (presumably) ice, I hurry into the shop. Inside, I feel so much warmer, and I rub my hands together as I glance out the window; no sign of them… Though, who's Bellatrix? And what's Apparation? What were they talking about?—

"Welcome to Weasley's—"

"—Aiih!" I scream and jump backwards at the sudden intrusion of space; I had found a rather cheery face in front of my own, but once I jump back, I apparently bounce into his copy—er, twin. They grin down at me, and I notice one of them has an eye-patch over his ear… I blush, and softly mumble, "Sorry about that—"

"—About what? We didn't hear anything! Did we, George?" The clone in front of me beams, and looks to his brother.

"Ay, nothin'. Not so much as a squeak."

I feel a little better in their company. Something about them's warm an inviting—regardless of the -snake?- skin on their vests. Not sure it really is snake skin, though… I clear my throat and blush again. "I'm, uh, new here, and—where exactly am I?"

As the one in front of me opens his mouth, the door opens again, with the alarming sound of a large flatulent-imitation; my eyes dart to the door, but I relax immediately upon finding that it's only a young girl and her mother, not the group of men I had overheard earlier… I smile faintly at them when they look at me, and I turn to the presumed snake-skin vested man before me. Now that I look at him again, he looks a little familiar, possibly a relative of someone on the train? I'll think of it later…

"I'm Fred Weasley, at your service—Oi, George, new'uns!" He glances at his brother over my shoulder, who needn't the direction as he's already at the mother's and daughter's side; they're already hysterical and clutching the sides, from whatever George had said. I grin and look back to Fred.

"—So, about where this is?"

"—Ah, Hogsmeade." He pauses, glances at my raincoat, and cocks a brow. "What's this? Muggle?"

"—Uh, huh?" I guess he took my non-word question as a statement, since he nods his head and chuckles a little.

"Oi, me dad's obsessed with them Muggles. You'd think he'd like to be one of 'em—do you?" Fred asks, seeming to be a little amused at the thought.

Me, on the other hand, want to scream What? "Uh, well, sure, sometimes…"

"—Well, I guess that makes sense if you had that toad Umbridge"—his face squinches up at the name—"so is that why you're skipping school? Or do you not go to Hogwarts?—Or," he grins, eyes dancing—"Potential customer for escaping school? Here!" He ushers me after him with his hand, and I follow him to a nearby counter. As we walk along, I suddenly notice the random objects along the walls—large black pots, sticks with handles, pointy feathers and dragon plushies. Interesting.

"So," I overhear George telling the mother of the little girl, who's holding a very cute puff ball plushie, "make sure it's safe before any owls or toads get it. Cats, though, won't touch 'em, so don' worry…"

"Here we are!" Fred announces, as he whips around with a box in front of himself; I have to lurch back before I ram into him like I did to his brother; he seems to notice this, and smiles at me as he continues: "These are our first—and finest—box of assorted goodies. Ah! But they are not only goodies, for chance, take this one…" He opens the lid, and removes one, with two colors, "Eat this side, and you'll get a bloody nose—and when you're out of class and the nurses can't do anything about it, eat the other side, and enjoy your freedom bloody-nose free! Mind you, don't fail your classes to come work for us, we—George and I—have had a load of them first-years pull that idea acr'ss, but so you know we promote education and freedom, since Hogwarts is, well…Hogwarts."

He seems content with his little speech. We smile at each other, but really, I can't think of anything else to do, or say—what's Hogwarts? An institution? College? High school?—and just staring up at him seems a little too weird for my taste. But, I guess he wants me to buy these things, so I say, "My parents have all of my money, since I trashed the side of the car when I backed up into the garage and hit the bushes."

Fred pauses at this, and laughs. "Oi! Me dad has a Muggle car, too! George and I almost crashed it, too, but he caught us before we could do any real damage, sadly." He winks and nods as he sets the goody back inside the box, and he sets the box back behind him. "So what classes do you have this year? You seem to be about O.W.L. age, or N.E.W.T.s at least—no offense, if you're older," he ads, and continues, "But you make a great youngin'—ever try modeling at Madame's across the street? She tapers robes really well."

"—Ah, well, I don't know," I add sheepishly; meanwhile, my mind's just reeling. WHAT?!

"—Fred!" George suddenly calls. We both look over to him, and find that the mother and girl are gone, and instead he's pointing to something like a backroom. Fred nods, and says, "Well, we'll be at the back if you need anythin'." He smiles before he disappears.

I don't know. He's really cute, but then so was the boy with shaggy hair and glasses… Oh! That's it, they must be older cousins or brothers of that one boy beside the cute one! Major flashback, sorry, anywho…

I glance around the room, and shrug before bracing myself for the cold, and plunging myself back into the snowy realm of, well, Hogsmeade, wherever that is… I wrap my silver and green scarf tighter around my neck (the one gift I actually like from my relatives), as I head left to what seems like a parlor, or pub, and step inside.