Easter holiday's had arrived. The weather outside was growing warmer, but all of the fifth and seventh years were forced to remain inside and study. Harry had grown very distant, and he thought that Ron and Hermione hadn't realized. Emile didn't tell anyone that she had invaded his mind as he slept, and she certainly didn't tell anyone that she knew what was troubling him. The poor kid had looked up to his parents for so long, it must have been hard to see that his father had been a bully.

Daily Quidditch practice was getting worst and worst. Angelina looked as if she were ready to kill someone, the incompetence of the new beater was unbearable. Ron had to take him to the hospital wing one evening when he knocked himself out with his own bat.

Inside the space in the library was where Emile spent the majority of her time. Nathan and Lee came in and out, and Fred and George popped in only occasionally.

"Hiya, Em," Fred grinned as he walked in with his brother, who had his hands behind his back. "Check out what mom sent you."

"Ta-da!" George pulled out a large, handsome chocolate easter egg, decorated in fancy spirals.

"Oh, it's very nice. I don't know if I can bring myself to eat something so pretty," Emile stared at the egg as George handed it to her.

"I'll eat it if you won't," Fred offered.

Emile slapped his outstretched hands."Eat your own."

"Already have," Fred laughed.

Emile broke off a small piece of the egg and put it in her mouth, savoring the chocolate as she continued mapping out the movement of Mars throughout the year.

"So Emile," Fred began with a glance at his brother. "We had a proposition for you."

"Let's hear it," Emile said as she rolled up her completed chart.

"So, tomorrow school resumes," Fred began.

"And Harry's been very stressed recently and would love a chat with dear old Sirius," George grinned.

""So we're causing a diversion. . ." Fred gave George a nervous glance, "And we also plan on leaving."

Emile stared from Weasley to the other. They were smiling at her, but George's smile was faltering.

"Alright. And?" Emile looked George in the eyes.

"And what?"

"What's the proposition?" Emile snapped impatiently.

"Come with us!" Fred said eagerly.

"Me?" Emile stared at Fred. "You're joking, right?"

"No?" Fred gave George another nervous glance.

Emile spluttered for a moment, unable to find the right words. "I'm on Quidditch– Angelina needs me. And N.E.W.T.'s are coming, I need to pass those. I'm not good with pranking–"

"If you don't want to just say it," Fred said with a shrug.

"I do," Emile objected, "It's not that I don't want to. It's just that this is your thing, and not mine."

"So you won't be mad at us if we leave?" George said a bit quietly.

"Of course not," Emile gave a sad smile. "I couldn't stay mad at red one and red two."

"Alright, well here's the plan," Fred said as he grinned from Emile to George.

Emile didn't approve. But she also couldn't do anything to stop them. They had a knack for the joke shop business, and she didn't.

"Oh, cheer up Em," Fred said as he finished talking. "Maybe when you come work with Ollivander you can room with us."

"Oh, I doubt your mother would approve," Emile said with a small laugh.

The next day flew by in a flurry of anticipation. Just before their last class George went up to Emile and drew her in for an unusually tight hug.

"Are you alright?" Emile whispered in his ear after an unusually long silence from the red head.

"I'm fine, just, just let me do this," George whispered back.

They didn't break apart until the bell had rung, summoning George off to transfiguration and leaving Emile watching him go for the first time that day.

She completely forgot what time they were planning on leaving, and found herself struggling through the crowd gathered in the entrance hall for a last glimpse of her friends.

Students were standing all around the walls in a great ring (some of them, Emile noticed, covered in a substance that looked very like Stinksap); teachers and ghosts were also in the crowd. Prominent among the onlookers were members of the Inquisitorial Squad, who were all looking exceptionally pleased with themselves, and Peeves, who was bobbing overhead, gazed down upon Fred and George, who stood in the middle of the floor with the unmistakable look of two people who had just been cornered.

"So!" said Umbridge triumphantly, standing on the stairs amongst the students in an attempt to appear taller. "So . . . you think it amusing to turn a school corridor into a swamp, do you?"

"Pretty amusing, yeah," said Fred, looking back up at her without the slightest sign of fear.

Filch elbowed his way closer to Umbridge, almost crying with happiness.

"I've got the form, Headmistress," he said hoarsely, waving the piece of parchment Harry had just seen him take from her desk. "I've got the form and I've got the whips waiting. . . . Oh, let me do it now. . . ."

"Very good, Argus," she said. "You two," she went on, gazing down at Fred and George, "are about to learn what happens to wrongdoers in my school."

"You know what?" said Fred. "I don't think we are."

He turned to his twin. "George," said Fred, "I think we've outgrown full-time education."

"Yeah, I've been feeling that way myself," said George lightly.

"Time to test our talents in the real world, d'you reckon?" asked Fred.

"Definitely," said George.

And before Umbridge could say a word, they raised their wands and said together, "Accio Brooms!"

Emile heard a loud crash somewhere in the distance. Fred and George's broomsticks, one still trailing the heavy chain and iron peg with which Umbridge had fastened them to the wall, were hurtling along the corridor toward their owners. They turned left, streaked down the stairs, and stopped sharply in front of the twins, the chain clattering loudly on the flagged stone floor.

"We won't be seeing you," Fred told Professor Umbridge, swinging his leg over his broomstick.

"Yeah, don't bother to keep in touch," said George, mounting his own.

Fred looked around at the assembled students, and at the silent, watchful crowd.

"If anyone fancies buying a Portable Swamp, as demonstrated upstairs, come to number ninety-three, Diagon Alley — Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes," he said in a loud voice. "Our new premises!"

"Special discounts to Hogwarts students who swear they're going to use our products to get rid of this old bat," added George, pointing at Professor Umbridge.

"STOP THEM!" shrieked Umbridge, but it was too late. As the Inquisitorial Squad closed in, Fred and George kicked off from the floor, shooting fifteen feet into the air, the iron peg swinging dangerously below. Fred looked across the hall at the poltergeist bobbing on his level above the crowd.

"Give her hell from us, Peeves."

And Peeves, whom no one had ever seen take an order from a student before, swept his belled hat from his head and sprang to a salute as Fred and George wheeled about to tumultuous applause from the students below and sped out of the open front doors into the glorious sunset.

There they go.

They're going to be fine.

How about you?

Emile didn't answer.