Disclaimer: See chapter one.

A/N: Sorry sorry sorry about the massive wait, but it's been all go on the schoolwork front, hence not a lot of time for writing. But I managed to get this chapter out in between studying The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie, and the various ways in which a corrie is formed.

This is another reader's suggestions chapter. I have of course added the complete list of new suggestions to the list at the end. As always, if you have any good ones, let me know and I'll try and include them! Please review, and as always, enjoy. Thank you garden gnomes unite, and Lilly-Feather1001 for their suggestions. Hey, we're up to 200 now!

182. Harry Potter is not my 'Protection Shield' to carry around to ward off evil.

'Fred, George, you're doing my bloody head in!' Harry said wearily one night in the common room, after just accompanying them to the toilet.

'What have we done?' Fred asked, shocked.

'Pray tell, Harry?' George said, wide eyed with innocence.

'It's your own fault,' Ron interjected to Harry, joining the group.

'If you didn't keep rising to the bait…' Hermione sighed, closing her book and joining her friends.

'How can I not?' Harry huffed. 'They keep sending me on pseudo errands and trips to see teachers! How do I know if it's not genuine?'

'Aw, Harry, it's probably never going to be genuine,' Fred laughed, elbowing Harry friendlily.

'And then they come with me,' Harry continued, batting Fred away, 'and tell whomever we meet that I'm their protection shield!'

'Well, there are a lot of people out to get us!' George insisted. 'You have this aura of fear about you that's really suitable for us!'

Harry glared at him.

'Alright, alright, we'll stop!' Fred said, holding his hands up. 'Don't give us that scary You Know Who death defying gaze. No harm, no foul.'

'Lots of harm and foul, actually,' Harry said, his tone turning amused. 'Snape complained that I was coming to see him too often, and McGonagall wants to see you now.'

185. I will not tell McGonagall that she is bad luck because she can turn into a cat.

McGonagall looked at all the paraphernalia that the Weasley twins had placed in front of her; books, papers, lengthy dissertations, inanimate muggle pictures, as well as moving wizard ones. She listened to them preach on and on, and on, and on, about something so utterly nonsensical she'd tuned out after five minutes. She sensed them closing their speech, and slowly tuned back in.

'And that, professor, is why we think we're failing!' they said in unison.

McGonagall sighed. 'You think you're failing because my animagi form is a cat, which in some cultures is considered unlucky?'

The twins nodded fervently. 'It's the only explanation we could think of, Professor,' they said gravely.

McGonagall regarded the troublemakers, before shaking her head sadly.

'And the option that you just don't do the work seemed impossible to you?'

'Entirely,' they said, shrugging.

'Fine,' she sighed. 'Fine. I'm unlucky. Go away.'

The twins traipsed out of her office/ 'Did that work?' George whispered as they made their way back to the common room.

'I think it might have!' Fred beamed, blissfully unaware of the letter which was winging its way to their mother as they spoke.

188. I won't sign my homework as 'Snaperdoodle'

'We've talked about this before, boys,' Professor Sprout said pointedly.

'Yes we have, professor,' the twins said seriously.

Sprout considered punishing them for their newest misdeed, but found she was unable to muster the seriousness needed to reprimand the Weasley twins. It required certain finesse, and nerves of steel. She was far too tired. She would just leave it, she thought.

'Report to McGonagall,' she told them, before bustling out of the greenhouse and up to the school, leaving the crestfallen twins behind her.

190. I will not hand out slips of papers asking students to answer the following question: Do you think Snape is evil?

'What does the ballot say then?' Fred asked his twin. 'Do we have an officially evil teacher?'

'I would say so,' George answered. '99% of the student population finds him irrefutably evil.'

'What's the other 1% then?' Hermione asked, sitting down at the table the twins had covered in their ballot papers.

'They just find him pretty nasty,' George supplied.

'Hang on, how many people did you ask?' Harry wondered aloud, grabbing a chair and sitting next to Hermione.

'About two hundred,' Fred said proudly. 'From all different year groups!'

'Yeah but did you hand any out to Slytherins?' Ron asked, pushing a first year out of an occupied chair from the next table, and plonking himself down on it, next to Fred.

'Um…yes?' George tried futilely.

'So it's not accurate,' Hermione stated.

'Which means your whole 'funny experiment,' Harry made air quotes with his hands, 'was totally useless.'

'Aw, come on!' Fred wailed. 'That's not fair!'

Harry smiled at the twins. 'There was barely any point anyway, we all knew he was evil.'

Ron shuffled through the papers on the table. 'Who said he was only mildly nasty?' he asked, trying to find the paper.

'That would be me,' a cold voice said from the entrance to the common room.

'Snape,' the twins sighed in unison.

'With McGonagall right behind him,' Snape said coolly. 'Please come with me boys,' he said, before sweeping out of the common room. The twins followed dejectedly.

'How'd he get his hands on a ballot paper anyway?' Harry mused.

Ron blushed horribly. Harry raised his eyebrows. 'It was to pay them back for that 'hug a Slytherin day!'

192. I will not tell the first years, who are waiting to be sorted, that in order to be sorted, you must confess your deepest secrets aloud while wearing the hat.

Fred and George sat patiently in McGonagall's office.

'Think we've broken our record this year?' Fred nudged his twin.

'For what? The earliest point we can be inside McGonagall's office in the school year?' George answered mildly.

'Well, yeah. I would say just after sorting has to be a contender.'

'You know what grates my cheese?' Fred said irately.

'That we still haven't beaten Harry and Ron?' George nodded fervently. 'There's not much that can beat a flying Ford Anglia and an angry tree though. We could be trying for the rest of our lives.'

Fred smiled, before shushing his twin. 'I can hear McGonagall,' he said.

Sure enough, McGonagall stalked in second later, and took her seat behind her desk.

'So. You thought it would be funny to mislead the first years yet again?'

'Well, professor, they're very easy targets!' Fred shrugged. 'We're only human!'

'No, I'm sure you must be some kind of demon…' McGonagall sighed as she scrawled out their punishments yet again.

193. The "I Hate Snape" Club is not a valid after-class activity.

'I think you boys know why you're here,' Dumbledore said, his face unsmiling for once.

Fred looked at George. 'Well, we can probably guess,' he said, looking guiltily up at his headmaster's face.

'Boys, slandering a teacher is a very, very big offence,' Dumbledore sighed.

'He's so nasty to us though!' George widened his eyes at Dumbledore.

'Be that as it may, you haven't really given him a chance yet, have you?' Dumbledore said, cleaning his half moon glasses with a handful of robes.

'What do you mean, sir?' Fred asked petulantly. 'He always takes points away from us!'

'He gives us zero marks in class every day!' George added.

'And he laughs at our potions!' Fred folded his arms crossly. 'It's just not fair.'

'And it's been going on far too long,' they said in unison.

Dumbledore set the gleaming glasses back on his crooked nose. 'Boys, you've only been in first year for one week.'

The twins looked at each other, before turning back to Dumbledore. 'Well, exactly!' they said in unison.

194. Making Harry Potter action figures without his permission is wrong.

'OI!' The angry yell rang across the common room like a gunshot.

'Blimey Harry! You nearly gave me a heart attack!' Fred said, massaging his chest.

Harry's eyes widened. He stomped over from his place next to the fire with Ron and Hermione to the stairs where the twins stood.

'Oh I'm ever so sorry, Fred, but perhaps some of the proceeds from your newest business venture can go some way to fixing that!' Harry growled.

'Oh,' Fred said, looking at his twin.

'Rumbled,' George conceded. 'Damn.'

Hermione elbowed Ron, alerting him to the tangible tension, and they both joined their friend in his argument.

'Harry Potter action figures?' Harry hissed. 'As if I'm not enough of a freak show already!'

'Steady now, Harry. You're not a freak show!' Fred beamed.

'You're world famous – practically a brand name already!' George added.

'We were planning on giving you ten per cent, if that helps,' Fred shrugged.

'Ten per cent? That's hardly anything!' Hermione scoffed. 'Especially seeing as he's the star!'

'I'm not a bloody star, Hermione!' Harry huffed.

'It doesn't really make a difference anyway,' Ron said indifferently. 'McGonagall found out today and she's not impressed. The words 'will cease forthwith,' and 'those bloody miscreants' were said.'

The group stared at him. 'Why didn't you say before?' Harry said, dumbfounded.

'Forgot I s'pose,' he said, smirking at the twins' expressions of disappointment. Suddenly, something behind Harry caught his eye. 'Oh bugger, the first years have nicked our chairs!'

196. I will not charm Firenze pink and call him "my little pony."

'Wha' were you thinkin'?' Hagrid hissed at the twins. 'Centaurs are bloody difficult at the best o' times!'

'For funsies?' George supplied. Hagrid rolled his eyes. 'You're just as well Harry was there to stun 'im before 'e strangled you!'

Fred and George regarded the limp centaur in front of them, as Hagrid poured a potion on top of him, which bubbled and seethed, drenching Hagrid's back garden in the liquid.

'What is a 'my little pony, anyway?' Hagrid asked, tapping his flowered umbrella to Firenze's pink rubber hooves, which slowly returned to their normal shade and texture.

'It's a muggle horse toy…and we though it'd be funny.' George shrugged.

'Didn't think he'd take such offence,' Fred crossed his arms. Hagrid looked up from his task of returning Firenze to his regular palomino state. 'Didn't, didja?' he said sarcastically, as the potion finally sank into the centaur and restored his normal colour. 'He's gonna want to punish you, you know,' he said, inclining his head at Firenze. The brothers groaned twin groans, and huffed back up to the school.

199. There is no Interpretive Dance course offered at Hogwarts, and I should stop
signing up for it every year.

'But it's such a good idea, professor!' the twins exclaimed in unison.

'No, no it's not, Weasleys. It is not, and it never will be, a good idea.' McGonagall, said, her voice muffled by the fact that her head was resting face down on her desk.

'We could teach it!' Fred suggested.

'No you couldn't,' McGonagall countered tiredly. 'And if you don't stop handing out leaflets about it, I'm going to write to your mother.' She sat up. 'Actually, I'm going to do that anyway, so you might as well stop,' she said.

'But come on! Dancing?' Imagine that in battle!' George said wistfully. 'There you are, hexing away… when suddenly! You're sashaying circles around your opponent!'

'It'd totally confuse them, Professor!' Fred agreed happily.

'It's more likely that it would irritate them and then they would kill you,' McGonagall said blandly, reaching for her 'writing to parents' quill.

200. Yes, the Great Hall is extremely large, but Quidditch is an outside sport.

Dumbledore walked quickly to his desk, his longs robes sweeping behind him, and picked up his pointed hat from where he'd left it. He walked back over to the door and the staircase beyond it. He was late for lunch, and if he didn't get there soon, Professor McGonagall would eat all the chicken again.

He opened the door at the bottom of the staircase and strode down the corridor, only to crash spectacularly with a small boy who was running pell-mell toward him.

Dumbledore reached out to steady the boy. 'What's wrong?' he asked, concerned.

'P-professor McGonagall sent m-me to s-see you, to t-take you down to the h-hall!' he squeaked.

Dumbledore followed the boy anxiously, wondering what would await him.

The doors swung open at his presence, revealing a very peculiar scene. There appeared to be a vicious Quidditch match taking place near the cloudless blue ceiling. Dumbledore paraded along the long house tables, dodging the falling quaffle and one point, and took his place at the staff table.

'Fred and George,' Minerva said by his side.

'How did they convince their team and the Slytherins to play in here?' he asked interestedly.

'I don't know, and frankly, Albus, I don't care. Shall I write home about them?' she asked wearily.

'Hmm, yes, do,' Dumbledore said, helping himself to the last piece of chicken. 'What's the score?' he asked, smiling at McGonagall.

A/N: Reviews are lovely.