There was a scuffle, from what the trio could hear – it sounded like Fred and George walking away, someone pushing in chairs, Rita's quill finally coming to a standstill, and Tom chuckling quietly. They moved away just before Fred and George, banged the door open. They threw Butterbeer bottles back to Rita; without her noticing, they rolled along on the tiled floor past her feet. Peeking through the door as Fred and George strode away from them, Hermione caught sight of Rita standing there, mouth agape, hands gripping still a thick parchment notebook. She smirked, satisfied, and closed the door before whirling around to face Fred and George full in the face.

"All right, so how did you do it?" The evil grins were clean and plain for all to see on their faces. "And why? I thought she was bad enough off as she is."

"'S'what you think." Fred calmly picked at the button on the collar of his robe. "Trust me, Hermione, that woman's nasty. This, little Hermione's Granger, still isn't enough, as a matter of fact."

"That will come when tomorrow's issue of the Prophet is finally unleashed upon the wizarding world." George tapped his nose, suggestively raising his eyebrows. With a smirk, he filled them on the secret. "Once it's released upon the masses, everyone will know just how kind and gentle our mum is."

"Switched the parchment the quill was writing on and substituted with your own and got Rita in the process, did you?" Hermione was amused, but also quite impressed. "Oh, and used your own quill, didn't you?" She lifted her eyebrows, pleased. "I must say, for boys who never took their N.E.W.T.s and couldn't scrape half a dozen O.W.L.s between them, you really are doing quite well. I'm impressed."

"The wonders of the world never end, do they, Fred?" George was grinning.

Fred grinned back, the freckles standing out on his cheeks. "Of course they don't, George."

"Anyhow…" George coughed politely. "If you'll excuse us, we have matters to settle."

"Matters that involve both our genius and creativity." Fred parted his hair, carefully tucking a bang away between his eyes, before following George to the corner of the local pub. "Until then, we bid you a fond ta ta, for that should take a while."

They Disapparated, and Ron shook his head. "They still surprise me, even after all these years of living with them."

A familiar, toothless wizard appeared beside them, looking sadly at the empty Butterbeer bottles rolling away into the horizon. "They sure do."

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Harry was trying on new dress robes, and it was currently giving him a lot of pain.

Not emotional pain, obviously. Regular ol' physical pain. Pain from the ruffed collar of his silky bottle-green dress robes, which was tight around his neck, a pain that he didn't want to feel right now—

Mrs. Weasley shook her head, clucking loudly, and waved her wand. Instantly, the ruff loosened and Harry breathed a sigh of relief. "Maybe getting them the same color as last time wasn't a good idea, dear. They seem small for you, but they looked fine at the shop."

"It's OK, Mrs. Weasley," Harry assured her, grinning faintly as he massaged his neck. "The collar is a little too tight, is all."

With a sigh and another wave of the wand, Harry's collar was perfect. He smiled again and removed his dress robes, depositing them in the bag lying casually by the door before sitting down to watch as Arthur tried on his own dress robes – a second-hand, store-bought navy-blue garment – as he let his mind wander. It was later that day, towards evening, and the Weasleys, Harry, and Hermione were in the midst of trying on their new clothes for Bill and Fleur's wedding. Watching from benches arrayed against Ginny's emptied room as they others tested their new garbs was calming after everything else that had happened that day, relaxing and enjoyable. It also supplied with the trio with plenty of time to discuss amongst themselves.

"When is Bill and Fleur's wedding?" asked Hermione. "In the morning?"

Ron nodded, looking green as he riffled through the bag. "Yeah, in a few days. Look, Mum got me maroon. Again. You know, with all this new money we've got because of Fred and George's shop, you'd expect her to be able to buy more expensive things."

"You can buy some more if you want," Harry told him quickly. "I have a lot of money left. I can lend you some."

"It's fine; I prefer not to bother you about it. But still…." Ron didn't elaborate, but his ears were going faintly red. He sighed, shaking his head before setting the dress robes back in the bag. He turned to her, a confused expression on his face. "Speaking of Fred and George, I wonder when that article is going to come…."

"Honestly, Ron, they even said it would be tomorrow's paper." Hermione, annoyed as usual, watched Arthur's drifting smile as he turned smoothly under Molly's command; he was clearly thinking of something that made him happy and obedient – namely, Muggles and all their 'elrektic' apparatuses. "They have some tricks hidden somewhere. I'll end up feeling bad for her – I know I will."

"You will, Hermione." Still looking faintly disgusted because of his plain brown dress robes, Ron observed Arthur slip off his own new clothes and neatly arrange them in the bag before leaving Charlie to try his own on. "I wager you will, actually."

"Yeah, but just what are Fred and George planning?" Harry shrugged. "Well, what they did plan, that is. I hope her quill didn't catch everything they were saying about your mum, Ron. They were lying, weren't they?"

"For the most part." Ron grinned, closing his eyes and leaning back on the bench. "Man, that was a good clincher – 'That, dearest Rita, would be you.' Pure genius. I mean, I knew all that stuff they were saying about Mum was a lie, of course, probably meant to get themselves famous and rich again—"

"Well, it sure didn't seem like you understood," retorted Hermione.

"—and that pulled it all together. Do you know what spell they used, Hermione?"

She shrugged, watching as Charlie shrugged easily into his high-collared dress robes. "They could have used a Banishing Charm, I suppose, but I didn't hear them moving their wands. At any rate, they wouldn't have had to – I'm sure they just changed the paper and the quill manually." She stopped suddenly, pondering. "Oh, and Ron…? Do you know what quill they used?"

"Don't you already know what kind of quill it was?" Ron teased. "You know, I would have expected you – you, especially – to be more interested in the article they switched on her." Ron's voice was admirable; Harry deigned not to say anything, instead holding his breath as a moment of understanding passed between the two. Ron replied, "Yeah, I think it was one of their Listener Quills. A dumb name, I guess, but it came from one of their mistakes, again. Anyhow, it writes what you tell it to write – it can erase things too."

A pause trickled by. It certainly was interesting, and, Harry figured, Hermione would have been much more intrigued – though that was of course not the right word – a while ago. Now, however, she pondered for quite a while. She knew this time around that Fred and George were up to something good for once, and he sensed that she'd matured. He smiled, saddened, at the thought. They'd all matured since the end of sixth year, and yet none of them had even noticed….

The three of them gave a start as Mrs. Weasley called up Hermione. Still smiling, Harry watched absently as Hermione hopped onto the stool and stood while Mrs. Weasley wordlessly handed her bright blue dress robes. With a glance at Ron, he marveled at the starstruck look in his eyes and wondered why they'd wasted so much time bickering.

Sometimes a person just had to feel happy, and this was one of them.

Then again, mulled Harry as Ron and Hermione resumed discussing and Ginny mounted the stool, thinking about them together was the right thing to do. After all, they fancied each other, and that was that.

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Harry watched Ginny as she pushed the door open the next morning and slipped into his room. She was nothing but a pajam'd, red-headed blur, but he knew it was her. Sitting up, he pushed on his glasses and greeted her sleepily. "Hullo, Gin."

"'Morning, Harry." Ginny, bright as always, smiled as she held up what appeared to be that day's copy of the Daily Prophet at arm's length toward him. "Ron and Hermione are already up. Just wait till you see today's paper."

"That article Fred and George swapped?" Harry lifted his glasses up slightly and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. "Is it good?"

"What are you saying, good?" Ginny laughed. "Trust me – it's not good; it's brilliant."

Harry squinted as he perched his glasses once more on the bridge of his nose, but, before he was aware of anything, Ginny snatched the Prophet behind her back before his eyes. "Not yet, Harry," she giggled, waving a finger in front of his face. "Not until you get down to the kitchen and see Mum – she's in tears."

Harry was horrified. "All—All that stuff they said about her was true?" he gasped.

But Ginny only smiled. "You'll see," she said. And then she was gone, with only a faint yell of 'And if you don't come, prepare yourself for a snap of the Bat Bogey Hex Slughorn loved so much' floating on the air.

Harry jumped out of bed. What in the world were Fred and George hiding under their sleeves?

--------------------------------------------

Hermione looked up from where she was reading at the Weasleys' kitchen tabel. Ginny had appeared, tailed shortly by Harry, coming down the stairs. Hearing the excited babble of talk coming from the Weasleys around her, she flipped a page and watched as Ginny led Harry to the table and pushed him into a chair.

"Eat your breakfast." She shoved him so hard that his knees buckled as he dropped into the chair. "Then you'll see."

Hermione checked her watch before turning to Ginny. Harry, began eating, looking confused in spite of the strange glint in his eye. "Where did your mum go? I haven't seen her for a few hours, not since I finished eating, even though your dad told me to stay here. Why?"

"Well, did you see the issue of the Prophet?" Ginny answered the question with a question.

Hermione nodded, putting her book on the table as her eyes scanned the room. Ginny clearly knew where Mrs. Weasley was, but she wasn't letting her on anything without a few tricks. "Yes. Why?" she asked, playing along with the younger girl. She'd find out eventually, along with why she'd been told to stay here for hours one end.

Ginny smiled. "And did you hear anything aside from this?" Impatiently, she gestured to the mess of Weasleys chattering around the table.

Hermione thought. "Well, I thought I heard something like a sob…" In a flash, she saw before her very eyes what could have happened. "Is she all right? Is she angry because of the article?"

Ginny patted Hermione's shoulder. "Relax. She's fine. Trust me. I just saw her. She'll be more than all right, actually, in about—" she turned her head around to see Hermione's watch "—an hour." She grinned apologetically. "I mean, I know three hours is a lot for Mum to be—" She broke off, shaking her head. "Never mind. Anyhow, she should be all right soon."

Hermione nodded, keeping an ear on the excited nattering that surrounded them. The other six Weasleys, Ron included, were talking on and off about the article. Mr. Weasley was both excited and angry, Bill was impressed, Charlie was admiring the thought put into the idea, Fred and George were marveling at their own talent, and Ron was shaking his head in happy disbelief. Harry was eating his second helping of porridge, averting her eyes. Ginny was watching him, lost in thought, her eyes glazed over. Hermione, deciding to trust her friend even though Mrs. Weasley was definitely acting strange, nervously read another page of the book, A History of House-elves. It was vastly informative, and she enjoyed reading up on the poor creatures' pitiable predicament, but she was finding reading hard to concentrate on. The talk kept coming to her ears and, even when it didn't, the thought of poor Mrs. Weasley crying behind the secure, closed door of the kitchen returned to her. The door had been magically locked – by Fred and George, she supposed – and she was keyed, uptight. No tension buildup was snapping in the air, and Hermione knew that Ginny knew what she was saying, but it still unnerved her. What was going on…?

Finally deciding that reading was the best solution, Hermione returned to her book. Nonetheless, she more-than-occasionally stopped to check her watch and see when that hour would finally be up.

--------------------------------------------

"Well, that explains a lot," grumped Harry.

They were sitting at the table an exact hour later and Molly was standing before them. Yes, she had been crying – the tear strains still ran down her face and her normally bright eyes were wet – but they had been tears of joy. Indeed, she didn't stop laughing as she showed them the front page of the Daily Prophet. In bold print it read, Molly Weasley: Mother or Manhandler? and, below the title, there was a moving photo of Molly's face. The article, the audacious cursive went on, had been written by Hard Workers.

"You two? Working hard? A new one, but on the other hand there's a first time for everything," chuckled Bill.

Long nowadays the question 'How did the famed twin owners of Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes, Fred and George Weasley, come to be?' has been asked. Well, the answer is quite simple. They were raised by a decent wizarding family – one with a lot of children and much less money, true, but nonetheless ordinary enough – and guided under the hand of an excellent mother. Molly Weasley, a tireless caregiver for family and friends alike, is known for her short temper when it came to matters of the twins' childhood mischiefmaking. However, she has proved to be not the furious whip-cracking slavedriver everyone thought she was but instead a kind, gentle, one-of-a-kind mother who loves her children with all her heart and soul.

Some have asked what the importance of juvenile punishment for harmless yet irking mischief is, and these reporters have to say that it sure makes a difference. If Molly had not attempted time after time to restrict her sons' amusing yet potentially dangerous antics, they would not be the same they are today. "It made a bigger challenge, for us," explained George Weasley, co-owner of the joke-shop chain now storming over Britain, in a confidential interview. "See, if she'd left us to our own devices, things would have been easier."

"We wouldn't have wanted to build the joke shop of our dreams like we actually did," continued his brother and co-founder, Frederick Weasley. "We would have just dropped it off and picked up something else, something we would have indubitably been worse at."

"So, yes, there's almost absolutely nothing that would have come out of this shop – of course, on the other hand, we wouldn't have it, period – if it hadn't been for dear old mum." George chuckled. "Of course, her frequent attempts at scolding us for our mischief was annoying, but the fun lies in openly defying her wishes."

Of course, Molly is more than a good mother to her children – much, much more. She's also a good wife, as was revealed in a confidential interview with husband Arthur Weasley, who works in the Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects. "Wouldn't be who I am without her," Arthur said with a bashful grin as his ears and neck flush slightly. "Tender and loving, that woman is, and with a great eye for—er—whipping people back into shape. She did that to me, she did. It scared me somewhat at first, but now I know I'm a better person because of her."

When asked on the subject of her short fuse, Arthur merely shrugged. "Yes, I guess she does," he added, "but then again I suppose it depends. You have to annoy her, bother her, pester her. If not you should be extremely well off – after all, you must never forget what a great person she is."

In conclusion, these reporters can say that not only is Molly Weasley one of the best wizarding mothers they've seen (and, truth be told, they've seen a lot), but she's also a strong, dedicated, hardworking witch who strives to do her best. She may be fast to fly off the handle from time to time, but, without that extra pinch in the right direction, none of the Weasleys would be the way they would be today. If only all mothers, magical and Muggle, could be like her!

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Ron stared in shock at what he was seeing in black and white before him, but Harry was grinning and slapping his friend's shoulder. "Good going, Ron," he teased, "She may have done things you didn't like sometimes, but it paid off."

"Well, I never doubted it." Bill was calm. "Except you trying to say Fleur and I are too young to get married in a few days, that is."

"Leave it, Bill," suggested Charlie, patting Molly on the back as silent tears of joy ran down her cheeks. "She's a better mother than we think, isn't she, Mum?"

"Still, though," and here Bill turned to the twins, "why did you do it?"

George shrugged, a smile curling his lips. "Because we wanted to," he answered simply.

"Yes," added Fred, but it was clear that there was more to it than that. He grinned, dramatically turning another page of the newspaper. "And just take a gander at this article, everyone."

It only took a glance at the headline for everyone to feel shock and amusement: Rita Skeeter, Arrested Animagus.

"How did you know that she's an Animagus?" asked Hermione, but there was an odd expression on her face. She was already turning around to face Ron, the confusion quickly turning to anger. "Ron—!

"I told them, all right, Hermione?" Ron turned away from her as fast as he could, showing them his coloring ears. "D'you hear?"

"Let's not fight now." Arthur, being the caring parent he was, got to his feet, turned Ron so that they were facing one another. "C'mon, Hermione, Ron was allowed to do it," he told her mildly, looking into her eyes. At a furious glance from Molly, he stuttered. "I mean – oh – er—" He whipped around quite quickly after that. "I mean, Ron, you shouldn't have done that. It was a secret that was supposed to be kept between you three and it wasn't right to tell Fred and George about it." When Hermione finally sighed and returned to her book with a 'All right, Ron, it's fine this time,' he leaned in closer to his youngest son. "But, Ron, is it true that Rita Skeeter is an Animagus?"

Ron nodded slowly. "How else would Fred and George written about it?"

Arthur smiled and sympathetically patted Ron's shoulder. "Don't worry, son, you did the right thing. Mark my words; it was a kind thing the twins did for Molly. All right? Hermione, like Molly, can be restrictive." He winked, and Ron bolted upright, back snapping with the speed of his motions. "You two are just like Molly and I were at your age, except we—"

But he never finished his sentence. There was the sound of ruffling wings, coupled with what appeared to be steps going to the window. Molly stood before a handsome tawny owl, taking the letter slowly from where it was tied to the owl's leg.

"Oh, dear," she said, after opening the letter and running her eyes down it. "It—It's Percy."

--------------------------------------------

Instantly, everyone clustered around Molly as she looked at Hermes and beckoned to him with a wave of her hand. "What's the prat up to this time?" asked Fred, but a tone of urgency permeated his voice.

"Yeah, Mum, is he coming crawling back to us because he couldn't become Minister for Magic?" George sounded annoyed as well as he crowded around Molly, but, like Fred's, his voice held a trace of seriousness.

Bill was thoughtful, his words coming slowly as he answered. "Mum, I… Well, everyone's accepted that the war is going on for real right now. I think he wants to come back. He couldn't have meant all those things you told me about in those letters."

"It's too…. It's too unPercyish." Charlie gravely read the letter that was lying limply in Molly's palm. "He must be coming back to us. He got the letter for the wedding Fleur's wedding, after all," he added, squeezing her shoulder.

"I don't know…" Arthur trailed off, chewing his lip in concentration and his forehead creasing. "Percy is – Well, you know Percy. He always was pompous, ambitious, wanting to get to the top of the latter. But…still… I can believe him wanting to come back, but something must have changed his mind."

"What does it say?" Harry stood a step backward, facing Ron's backside.

"Yes, what does it say, Mrs. Weasley?" added Hermione, standing beside him. "Can you read it out to us?"

In a trembling, wavering voice, Molly immediately read the letter.

Dear Mother,

After having received the invitation to Bill's wedding, I was left to ponder. One part of me wanted to attend, and another part of me did not. Finally, in the end, I realized what a – well, what a fool I've been being these past few years. Getting high up the corporate ladder is nothing if you don't have a family – or a true friend, for that matter – to share your newfound success with. So, Mother, I've decided that I'll be at Bill's wedding. I know now that I was being such an idiot, so you can expect to see me there. I hope that you lot will accept me for who I am even though I was such a fool.

With sincerest thanks for all you've done for me,

Percy