Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the Harry Potter universe. All recognizable characters, plots and settings are the exclusive property of J.K Rowling. I make no claim to ownership nor do I make any profit.
Acknowledgments: Thank you to my betas James Marx and Umar for their work on this story.
Self Promotion: I have a discord server where you can chat and read all of my chapters early. If you would like to join, simply copy the link on my profile and for . I had to write it in that format for the site to allow it on my profile.
Author's Note:
And here's the part of the year where I, who am usually very good at remembering canon went, "Huh, why can't I remember what happened between now and Halloween?" So, I looked on the Harry Potter Lexicon and then went "Seriously? Nothing of interest other than people getting colds happened between now and Halloween? Well, that would certainly explain it but man is that ever sloppy pacing." So, in short, here's where I admittedly had to fill some time. I hope you enjoy the chapter nonetheless.
Recommendations:
Harry Potter and The Prince of Slytherin by The Sinister Man.
Harry Potter and The Boy-Who-Lived by The Santi.
Growing Up Black by ElvindorkNigellus.
The Hero and The Veela by JackPotter.
Stepping Back, and Honour Thy Blood by TheBlack'sResurgence.
The Mind Arts by Wu Gang.
A Cadmean Victory by DarknessEnthroned.
Magicks of The Arcane by Eilyfe.
"Speech."
'Internal Dialogue.
Parseltongue.
Memories/In Story Text.
Harry Potter and The Dark Lord's Equal
By ACI100.
Year 2: The Looming of Shadows.
Chapter 7: The Prank War of The Century.
September 7th 1992.
The Great Hall.
6:21 PM.
The Potions class had really been the only true event of note for Harry and his friends that day, with the rest of their classes passing in uniform normality. That was something that Harry found himself rather appreciative of after the adventure that had been his first year at Hogwarts. At present, he, Ron, Dean and Neville were making their way into The Great Hall for dinner, having just used their free period to finish the essay that Snape had assigned them. Well, Harry was finished, and Dean needed only to proofread his own, but Neville nor Ron had ever found Potions to be a subject they were at all strong in, so the both of them still had a fair bit to write.
"One of these days," put in Ron a bit grumpily as they took their seats at the Gryffindor table, "I'm going to drown that greasy git in a cauldron."
"Make sure it's full of water," quipped Dean, "might actually wash out his hair before he bites the bullet."
Ron snickered before looking at Dean questioningly. "Bite the what?"
"Bullet," supplied Harry with a small grin, "it's a muggle thing. Your father would be ashamed of you."
Ron just rolled his eyes. "Yeah, probably, but oh well, I can live with that possibility."
"Scandalous." Said Neville with a smile of his own, pulling his full plate of food towards him as the rest did the same. "Do you guys have practice tonight?" He asked Harry and Ron. Ron merely shook his head, unable to answer verbally due to the borderline impossible amount of food currently in his mouth.
"Practices are on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays." Supplied Harry. "Wood wanted to do Sundays too, but the team shot that idea down pretty quickly." He too took a bite of his food, as Neville, swallowing his own, asked yet another question.
"What are you planning to do after dinner then, practice?"
"Sort of," he answered, planning to work on his ability to multitask with Occlumency and perhaps to put some more time into non verbal casting, a practice that had so far gone absolutely nowhere.
"Sort of?" Neville asked, and Harry realized he had walked into a trap. "How can you sort of practice?"
Harry scrambled for an acceptable answer but as it turned out, he did not need one.
"Oi!" Cried out Ron, reaching for the nearest napkin and pressing it hard to his face. To Harry's and the rest's horror, the napkin was soaked through with what was unmistakably blood a second later. "The hell did a nosebleed come from?"
"That does not look like a normal nose bleed." Said Harry, as the amount of blood that was pouring from Ron's nostrils was akin to something that may have been shown off in an over the top, low budget muggle horror movie.
"Yeah," agreed Dean, swallowing his mouthful of food as he looked at his friend, "maybe you should get that checked out, mate. It doesn't look-" but he was cut off as all of a sudden, blood began to spray from his nose as well.
"What the hell?!" Hissed Harry, pulling out his wand and directing it at Ron, who seemed to be in more dire need as he was losing colour in his skin. "Episkey." To Harry's surprise, the healing spell, which was meant exactly for these types of injuries did absolutely nothing. "What the? Episkey!" He tried again, this time aiming his wand towards Dean and pouring all of the magic he could into the spell.
Nothing happened.
Moments later, he felt a trickle of blood begin to flow from his own nose and saw, to his right, that Neville too was suffering from the condition, though worse than Harry.
'The food.' He realized. Ron and Dean had ate the most of it, and they seemed to have had it the worst while he, having not yet ate much at all, was experiencing only a trickle.
He glanced down the table, expecting to see a whole host of nosebleeders but to his surprise, he did not see any aside from the four of them.
'What the hell is going on?'
Then, his sharp eyes, which were well honed at looking for inconsistencies spotted two people a bit down the table who looked all too smug as they glanced down the table towards them. Fred and George's faces shifted immediately however, as soon as their eyes fell upon Ron and Dean, which was a sight that caused their eyes to widen in horror.
"Where were you lot?!" Exclaimed a pair of voices in unison as the twins took seats opposite Harry and Neville.
"Here." Said Ron simply, wearing a smirk that was oddly reminiscent of the two twins sitting with them. "Bit stupid of you to ask, wasn't it?"
Their eyes narrowed. "Careful Ronikins." Warned Fred.
"Yeah," said George, "you don't want to start something you can't finish."
Ron snorted. "Don't get too full of yourselves just because you double teamed me at Christmas."
"It doesn't matter how many ickle friends you have, Ronikins." Warned George.
"You'll never out prank us!" They proclaimed proudly.
Ron just shook his head. "If you say so."
The pair of older boys grinned mischievous grins. "Oh," they both said, "we do!" And they got up and left, sliding further down the table to sit with their friend, Lee Jordan, who had just taken his own seat at their table.
"What did you just drag me into?" Harry asked exasperatedly, causing Ron to smile abashedly back at him.
"The prank war of the century probably. And… uh — sorry about that."
'Bastards!' Thought Harry, reverting to one of Uncle Vernon's favourite words when cursing out any and all whom he found himself displeased with. 'What the hell do they classify as a prank?'
Harry grabbed Neville and stood, gesturing for Ron and Dean to follow. They made quite the sight as they walked out of the hall, four second year Gryffindors with their noses dripping and their robes glistening. Harry ignored the stares though, intent on only two things; finding Madam Pomfrey as soon as possible, and giving the twins a piece of his mind at the very least.
September 8th 1992.
The Potions Classroom.
10:16 AM.
Snape sneered down into Ginny's cauldron with a contemptuous expression. "Well, well, well," he uttered in barely more than a whisper, though his voice had no trouble permeating the silence of the classroom. "It seems you have clearly inherited the utter ineptitude that many of your brothers suffer from in the field of Potions. Ten points from Gryffindor for an atrocious effort. Evanesco." He swished his wand through the air, and Ginny gasped as her potion vanished, causing unshed tears to well up in her eyes as she stormed from the classroom, making for the first bathroom she could find before locking herself in a stall.
After crying for what felt like hours, Ginny slowly composed herself and opened her trusty diary.
Dear Tom,
I need your help with something again.
September 8th 1992.
The Gryffindor Changing Rooms.
6:07 PM.
"Explain!" Demanded Harry as he and Ron stood opposite the twins after assuring that the four of them ended up in the locker room alone. He had liked Ron's brothers, so the fact that he was ready to summon his wand from its holster at any second was painful to him, but it was very much the truth.
To their credit, the twins did actually look rather ashamed, and Harry had a strong feeling that it was legitimate. "We're sorry Harry, Ron." Said George weakly.
"Yeah," put in Fred, "we joked about pranks back at the feast so we figured we'd get you guys to prove our point."
"Unfortunately," continued George, "that obviously didn't go to plan."
"It didn't?" Ron asked darkly.
"No!" The twins protested.
"We didn't want you lot to gush blood like you'd had your faces cut open!"
"We just wanted little nose bleeds, you know? Just enough to be annoying and not go away, not like… you know — what actually happened?"
"How, pray tell, did it manage to go wrong?" Asked Harry, still not remotely softened.
The twins suddenly looked rather sheepish. "We… uh… we've been experimenting with some stuff like that." George answered reluctantly.
"Key word being experimenting." Pointed out Fred. "We put this powder in your food, see? Well, we actually got the elves to do it, but that's beside the point. It was supposed to make your noses bleed a bit, but… uh, like we said, it was an experiment."
"So you used your brother and his friends as test subjects?" Ron accused, his face flushing red in fury. The twins nodded, keeping their eyes firmly upon their shoes. Harry was with Ron on this one. Considering the idiocy of such a thing, them, as well as Dean and Neville had actually got off on quite a bit of luck in his estimation. "I can't believe you!" Thundered Ron, positively shaking as he lifted his borrowed broomstick and began to march onto the pitch, followed closely by Harry, with the only thought in his mind being to show the twins how wrong they truly had been.
'If they're going to risk our lives for a prank, I'm definitely not giving them the satisfaction of feeling as though they've won something.'
September 11th 1992.
An Abandoned Classroom.
7:01 PM.
Harry had waited only a moment before a hand on his shoulder scared the wits out of him and caused him to leap about a foot into the air.
'Damn, I forgot about the stupid invisible thing.'
Daphne's laughter quickly permeated the room, and Harry could do nothing but shake his head in exasperation. "I can't wait until I figure out a way around that." He said darkly, a response which only caused more laughter before Daphne faded into existence, smiling at him as she did so.
Harry felt his mouth dry up a bit. He had grown a fair bit over the summer and in the last year in particular, but evidently not as much as Daphne. Vaguely, Harry remembered reading something in a muggle science book about how girls hit puberty early and therefore often hit their major growth spurts before boys. At the time, Harry really hadn't understood what that meant but now, he was seeing the results right in front of him. Daphne had always been taller than him, but despite his growth, the gap had grown quite significantly, something that he found odd as it had closed on almost everybody else.
'She must be an early bloomer even for a girl then.'
Before, the top of Harry's head had reached to her forehead. Now though, the top of Harry's head came barely up to the bottom of her nose.
"Aw!" Mocked Daphne, clearly picking up on his discomfort. "What an adorable little thing you are!"
"Please tell me you didn't waste your summer developing a potion to make you taller?" Harry asked dryly, to which Daphne responded by getting an odd gleam in her eye.
"What a wonderful idea! Unfortunately no, I did not. I spent most of my summer in France."
"A decent consolation prize, I reckon." Harry mused, prompting Daphne to nod thoughtfully.
"I think so, yes." She said, making her way over to one of the desks and taking a seat, gesturing for Harry to do the same. He internally rolled his eyes. Daphne had an odd habit of always needing to be in control, or, at least, to feel as if she were.
"How was your summer?" She asked, prompting Harry to bite down on the urge to tell the truth and watch her reaction.
'Bet her famous mask of indifference would crack under that pressure.'
"It was eventful." He decided upon, "Probably the best I've ever had." He did not mention that such a thing was more due to the fact that he had spent his previous summers, with the exception of his last, and first, he supposed, locked in a cupboard and worked like a house elf. Such things were unnecessary to their conversation.
"I'm glad to hear that." She said with a genuine smile. "I was afraid you may have been going through withdrawal. It had been so long since we'd seen each other, after all."
Harry couldn't help but chuckle. "You have a very high opinion of yourself, don't you Greengrass?"
Daphne just quirked an eyebrow. "Oh, do you not, Potter?"
Several months ago, he'd have probably blushed but now, with the help of a little bit of Occlumency, he managed to keep a perfectly straight face. "Not as high as your own, I imagine."
Daphne laughed softly. "You're learning." She complemented with a smirk. "I have officially corrupted the Gryffindor golden boy!"
"I really wish you wouldn't call me that." Harry told her. "As a matter of fact, I really wish you'd actually use my first name."
Daphne just scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous! You're dealing with a Slytherin, everything with us is earned!" She tilted her chin up in an exaggeratedly snobbish manner and Harry just shook his head with a small smile, admittedly amused.
'Well, she got one thing right, even if she greatly exaggerated; I really did miss Daphne.'
"Or bought." Harry quipped, and Daphne's lip twitched.
"For some, but I have more than enough gold. I doubt you could even tempt me with currency."
Harry just chuckled again before throwing up his hands. "Ok, ok," he conceded, knowing that she would not drop this customary game of hers until he gave in, "you win, you win!"
Daphne just nodded in satisfaction. "You really are learning!" She praised, before finally, her face took on a more serious expression. "Did you get a chance to read over some of the book on Runes that I sent you over the summer?"
'Damn, since when have I failed to get to a book?'
"Amazingly enough, no, I haven't." He admitted, prompting Daphne to peer at him questioningly. "I told you, I had an eventful summer." He reiterated.
"Clearly," she said, "well, I guess I'll start from the beginning then. I'm assuming you would like to start with Runes, seeing as we never did get to it last year?"
"Yes," he answered at once, leaning forward in his seat and giving her his full attention. Daphne shuddered imperceptibly. There was something about those green eyes — an intensity that one could never quite be prepared for.
"Ok then," she said after a slight pause, taking on the tone of voice she saved exclusively for lectures. Harry thought absentmindedly that she would make an excellent, if admittedly strict teacher. "What is the number one rule of magic?" She asked him, prompting him to answer without hesitation, not going to get such a thing wrong and prepared for her habit of asking questions.
"Magic is all about intent. Incantations and wand movements are secondary."
"Correct," said Daphne, "I'd give points but I can't, and even if I could, I'd probably be arrested on the spot for high treason."
"Wouldn't you be arrested on the spot for high treason anyways if somebody in your house knew you were here?" Harry quipped back.
Daphne smirked. "Probably." She admitted. "Anyways, Runes are the purest form of intent. They cut out wand movements and incantations completely and allow a witch or wizard to carry out their intent through Runes and Runes alone."
"I have a rough idea of what they are," Harry told her, "but what are some things they're used for?"
Daphne smiled, clearly approving of his question. "There are a million things I could name." She told him. "A lot of the most powerful wards use Runes, and most magical devices use them too. Do you have a broom compass?" She asked to his great surprise, causing him to nod. "There you go; that uses Runes. So does your trunk if you have one that's magically enhanced, and your broom, and on, and on, and on."
"So anything with a magical enhancement?"
"Not necessarily. I mean — I could enchant a compass without Runes, but it wouldn't be permanent unless I had magical ability equal or close too Dumbledore's." She shrugged. "The only real limit with Runes is creativity. You can do almost anything with them if you understand them well enough."
"Well," said Harry, thoroughly sold on her pitch at that point, "let's get started!"
By the time they had finished the lecture, with Harry taking notes at a rapid pace the entire time, his mind was more fatigued than it had been in quite some time. It turned out that Runes were extremely complicated even before you learned how to use them, as Harry found himself learning an ancient language that he had never imagined he'd be learning — Elder Futhark. To Harry's incredulity, Daphne informed him that it would be far from the last language he would have to learn.
With this in mind, he was thoroughly brain dead by the time he made to exit ahead of Daphne but before he reached the door, an idea came to him.
"Say, Daphne?" He asked, to which she hummed in acknowledgement. "Your family sells potions, right?"
September 16th 1992.
The Library.
6:49 PM.
Ginny pressed her hands over her temples in utter frustration. As it turned out, Tom was a genius in Potions, as he seemed to be in every other subject as well. Unfortunately for Ginny, she was not, and she was scrambling to digest all of the information she would need to pass their practical test the next day in Potions. It was great that Tom knew the answers and it was odd, seemingly impossible how quickly he managed to paint the image in her mind of what he was trying to articulate even through parchment but at the same time, it wasn't the same as somebody truly helping her through it. That, above all else, was what Ginny needed right now.
"Excuse me?" A quiet, timmid sounding voice asked from nearby, a voice that caused Ginny to glance up. Standing in front of her was a girl whom she had seen around and knew to be in the same year as Ron and Harry, though she did not know her by name. She was fairly average looking except, of course, for her mane of bushy brown hair and her imperfect teeth, both of which stood out quite a bit. "Could I sit with you? The rest of the spots in here are full."
After giving the library a quick once over and realizing that this girl was right, Ginny nodded, going back to her notes and diary for ten long, agonizing minutes before she growled in frustration, pressing her hands to her temples once more.
"What is it?" The bushy haired girl across the table from her asked, causing Ginny to look up in surprise.
'N-nothing," she stammered, "I'm just trying to cram for a Potions test tomorrow, but it's not going particularly well."
The girl frowned, clearly able to sympathize. "I could help if you'd like? I'm quite good at Potions, I think."
Ginny's mouth fell agape. "You-you'd help me?" She asked, to which the other girl nodded enthusiastically.
"Of course I would help you!" She answered. "Can I see what you're working on?"
And they were off.
To her credit, the other girl turned out to be more than pretty good at Potions. As a matter of fact, Ginny was baffled at her encyclopedic knowledge, something she had only seen rivaled by Tom and Percy, though she had been told that Harry was in the same boat, despite her never seeing that side of him in action. By the time they were done, Ginny felt remarkably better about the test tomorrow and across from her, the second year Gryffindor allowed herself, for the first time in many months, to feel a slight bubble of hope that maybe, just maybe, she could finally make a friend at Hogwarts.
"I never got your name." Ginny pointed out as they stood to leave, fully intending to fall back on this girl at her next moment of need. The girl struck Ginny as the type who would absolutely jump at the opportunity to help her and though she was a bit overbearing, Ginny would more than happily put up with her if it meant her marks would sky rocket. After all, friends, acquaintances, nobodies or enemies, people all had their uses.
'Huh? Since when have I ever thought anything like that?'
The other girl smiled, seemingly oblivious to the oddly complex thoughts in the young red-head's mind as she extended a hand to the smaller girl. "Oh, I'm terribly sorry! I'm Hermione Granger. It's a pleasure to meet you."
September 17th 1992.
The Great Hall.
8:04 AM.
Despite himself, Harry could not withhold his natural reaction when he saw an owl carrying a parcel stamped with the emblem representing the Greengrass's potions business swooping towards him. His three friends who were, as always, sitting by his side noticed the reaction at once, as it was a rather uncharacteristically malicious smile that had briefly flickered across their friend's face.
"Uh, mate?" Ron asked with an uncharacteristic amount of caution. Harry hummed in acknowledgement as he began to unwrap the package in question, putting a rather large number of galleons into the pouch on the owl's other leg. "Uh... what exactly is that?"
Harry's face once again took on that same, malicious smile as he turned to the four of them, discreetly showing off two crystal vials containing an odd looking potion that was coloured a lurid orange. "This, gentlemen," he said with a gleam in his eye, "is the carrier of our revenge on the idiots who used us as test dummies."
All of a sudden, the three of their faces morphed from concern to anticipation, as all three of them had been more than a little upset with the twins and had only restrained themselves from acting on Harry's assurance that he had a master plan in play.
"Brilliant!" They all answered as one, all of them, even Ron, standing from the table and leaving the food and the hall behind them to plan how it was that they would carry out their revenge.
September 17th 1992.
The Great Hall.
6:11 PM.
The Gryffindor table was quite the jovial place that night at dinner. The Gryffindor Quidditch team had just had one of its best, if not its very best practice not only of that year, but since Harry and Katie had joined the team the year previous. In celebration of this, the twins, Fred and George, had loudly proclaimed that they would be procuring some delicacies and beverages for the house to enjoy in their common room later that night after dinner. As a result of this, the entire table was a buzz, and that buzz grew to a standing ovation that thoroughly baffled everybody else in the hall as Fred and George made their arrival a few minutes late, mock bowing to the lot of them with broad, rather pleased grins upon their identical faces.
"It went well?" Harry asked, offering the twins seats near he and his friends who tonight sat with the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team.
"Well? Oh Harrikins, it went splendidly!" Answered Fred, letting his eyes roam over the table. "We should have grabbed drinks from the kitchen Feorge, I'm parched."
"As am I, brother dear."
"Here." Said Neville, offering the twins a full pitcher of orange juice.
They beamed.
"Blimey!" Said Fred as he took a large gulp straight out of the pitcher before handing it to his twin. "They haven't had orange juice here in ages!"
"Guess it's just our lucky day!" George said with a satisfied grin plastered on his face as he and his twin sat back in their seats and enjoyed the splendid day they had experienced.
That revery lasted for all of ten seconds before it went horribly wrong for the both of them.
In an instant, both twins clutched their stomachs and doubled over in their chairs, grimacing horribly as the rest of the team began to take notice.
"Um... guys?" Katie asked timidly. "W-what's happening to them?"
"Juice must've gone down the wrong hole," Oliver dismissed with his typical air of casual confidence, "nothing to worry a — blimey!" As he spoke, the twins changed in front of their very eyes, shrinking drastically in size as their vivid red hair receded into their scalps and their bodies lost their well built, muscular tone, giving way to more than a little bit of baby fat as the two of them were reduced to infants in their seats. Their eyes, however, still carried the same teenage intelligence, eyes that were focused in horror upon Harry, Ron, Dean and Neville, all four of whom wore satisfied smirks as they tried to hide their laughter. To their luck, it became unnecessary a moment later, as much of the hall had taken notice of the twins' predicament and after a moment of complete, utter silence, the hall erupted into gales of laughter.
It was an odd scene to see Professor McGonagall gently carrying two crying infants out of the hall, though she did not manage to do so before a note had been conveniently stuck to one of their robes, which had mercifully shrunken down with them.
Here's a little present to show you exactly how mature the two of you idiots are.
Mess with the lions, you get the teeth!
September 17th 1992.
The Gryffindor Common Room.
10:40 PM.
"I've gotta hand it to you, mate," said Ron with a satisfied smile as he sipped on his pumpkin juice and picked up yet another one of the brilliant cookies that Fred and George had smuggled into the common room before walking into their trap. "That was even better than I thought it would be."
"Yeah," agreed Neville with amazement, "where did you get that potion? It must have been really rare and expensive."
"Ordered it," answered Harry vaguely, not quite willing to let his friends in on his sort of friendship with Daphne. "I'll admit though, when it said fast acting, I didn't think it would be THAT fast acting."
"Kinda cool it was though," said Dean with a grin, "the sight of McGonagall carrying the twins out of the hall like she was their mum is gonna live on in this castle forever!" They all laughed at the image.
"True," said Ron through fits of laughter, "I don't even reckon Fred and George have pulled off anything like that before! We'll be famous! They'll talk about us in Gryffindor forever!" Though the school at large didn't know who had performed the prank, the Gryffindors had all seen their reactions and under intense but light hearted questioning in the common room, Harry, Ron, Dean and Neville had admitted what they had done to storming applause, though Harry had not revealed how he had masterminded it nor pulled it off, that was not a story for all to hear.
The Past.
September 17th 1992.
The Quiddich Pitch.
4:48 PM.
"Good practice boys!" Said Fred proudly, clasping Harry and Ron on the shoulder as the team walked back into the changing rooms.
"And girls!" Protested Alicia.
Fred merely shrugged. "If you like." He mocked, earning him a mock glare in return from all three of the chasers. "Well," he said, unphased as he and his twin through their brooms over their shoulder. "See you lot at dinner. Save us a spot, will you?" It was a sort of tradition for the team to eat together after each and every practice and game.
"Why?" Angelina asked suspiciously. "Where are you two heading off too?"
"The one time we're not going to cause trouble is the one time she says anything." Remarked George, causing Fred to nod along seriously.
"The one time? I ALWAYS say something!"
"Funny," mused Fred, "I've never heard you say anything about anything like that, have you, brother of mine?"
"That's a no from me Feorge." Answered George.
"Hearing and listening are two different things." Said Angelina exasperatedly, but try as she might, she could not keep the smile off of her face. "Maybe if you tried the latter, you'd have more success."
"An experiment for another day, I think." Said George as the twins waved and made their exit.
Angelina just shook her head but unseen by any, the smallest male on the team had slipped quietly out of the changing room, throwing an odd, silvery cloak over top of himself as he followed the twins all the way to the kitchens, a marvellous find in his mind, where he had a rather pleasant conversation with a number of all too helpful house elves.
The Present.
September 18th 1992.
The Hospital Wing.
2:04 AM.
"Psst, Fred!" Hissed George mere moments after awaking. His memory of his time as an infant was limited, but he remembered enough to piece together both who had done this to them and the fact that it had taken longer to counter than it should have. As it turned out, Pomfrey had to floo call a contact to allow her to pick up the antidote, as she had not had any on hand. "Fred, are you awake?"
"Yeah," whispered back Fred, "been awake for a few minutes, I was waiting on you. Oi, George, read this!"
As George took hold of the note passed to him by Fred, his brother discreetly cast a silencing charm on the door that led to Madam Pomfrey's private quarters. As expected, George's jaw fell open upon reading the note before, a second later, he burst out into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. A moment later, Fred cracked up too. Their voices were still unnaturally high, and it made for a rather amusing scene.
"Blimey, brother dear," said George through the stitch that was now present in his side, "finally, we've corrupted them!"
"Yeah, wouldn't have wasted time with those hints to Harrikins if we knew all we had to do was prank him."
"Well," said George after a moment, sounding reluctant, "I suppose we're even now, aren't we?"
"I suppose we are." Fred answered, a mischievous glint dancing behind his eyes, though in the all consuming darkness of the hospital wing now that George had extinguished his wand, his brother did not see it. "We can't have that, can we?"
"Why of course not, brother of mine!" George responded deviously. "If they want to play, we'll show them hot to play!"
"If it's a war they want," they proclaimed together, "it's a war they'll get!"
September 21st 1992.
The Great Hall.
8:12 AM.
The first day of fall had come, and Harry, Ron, Dean and Neville walked into the hall that morning ready to begin their third week at Hogwarts. For Harry, the year was going quite well so far. His classes were, as he had expected, child's play with the exception of Potions, Astronomy and Herbology. As for his extra curricular studies, he could almost multi-task perfectly while his mind was clear. He could do most things perfectly; it was only when trying to remember more intellectual content or cast particularly difficult spells that he had any problems at all.
All in all, he was quite happy with the way the year was going so far, and he felt more than ready to start the week. Apparently though, he was not quite as eager as Ron, who had spotted a tray of bacon and made a beeline for the nearest seats to that aforementioned tray, cutting right in front of Harry as he did so. As he walked in front of Harry, he noticed something odd; weird markings seemed to have been drawn on the back of Ron's robes.
"Oi, Ron-" but he froze, as did most of the people around him when his voice came out comically high, as if he were a muggle who had just inhaled helium. Many around him gaped or laughed openly as he flushed red as a tomato. "What the — ugh! What is going on?"
"Harry," tried Neville from behind him, but his voice too suffered from the same ailment that Harry's did. Unlike Harry though, Neville persevered. "What are those markings on the back of your robes?"
'God damnit!'
"Runes," he breathed out, his whisper coming out even higher than his normal speech, "someone drew runes on our backs." As he said this, his eyes fell on the twins, both of whom were conspicuously looking anywhere but at the four of them.
The hall was in shambles now as almost every student in the school was howling with laughter. The fiasco went on for another five minutes before Professor Flitwick took pity on the four of them and managed to reverse the spell only after he had skillfully removed the Runes from their clothes.
When Harry sat down, he received an owl not five minutes later, with nothing but a small, nondescript note carried by the bird, who did not wait for his reply.
Don't mess with a lion?
Hah!
You four really think you're the king's of the jungle?
Tread carefully in the jungle kiddies, you might just get eaten alive!
"Oh, it's on!" Hissed Ron, whose face was still positively burning with embarrassment and humiliation. The other three of them could do nothing but nod along in grim agreement.
October 1st 1992.
The Great Hall.
8:13 AM.
It had been a normal breakfast, as had been the norm for more than a week until an owl swooped down to land in front of Professor McGonagall with a note that was unmistakably a howler. As one, the entire hall fell deathly quiet as McGonagall merely raised an eyebrow and opened the envelope. The explosion of noise, when it did erupt through the hall turned out to be the absolute last thing that anyone would have ever expected as two similar voices echoed off of the walls.
"OH, MINERVA MCGONAGALL, YOU MAY THINK US SWINE.
BUT WE THINK THAT YOU'RE POSITIVELY DEVINE!
EVEN THOUGH YOUR HAIR IS GREY AND YOU'RE TERRIBLY STRICT
WE'D LIKE NOTHING MORE THAN FOR YOU TO PLAY WITH OUR DICKS!"
If the voices of the Weasley twins had not been recognizable in the note, their back and forward manner of speaking was certainly a dead giveaway. As for the two boys in question, they were staring up at the staff table in slack jawed disbelief, drastically paling by the second as their Transfiguration professor looked ready to explode.
"How the hell did they do that?" Whispered George in awe, looking down the table to where, much like the rest of the school body who were not shocked nor horrified into silence, Harry, Ron, Dean and Neville were losing their battle with uncontrollable fits of laughter.
"No idea, but we're dead!" Hissed back Fred as Professor McGonagall's face began to reddin as she recovered from her shock.
"Yeah, but we're taking them with us. This means war!"
October 9th 1992.
The Gryffindor Common Room.
11:47 PM.
Harry had been rather proud of the prank they had pulled on the twins involving the staged love letter to McGonagall. Granted, it had been Ron's idea, lyrics and all, but he was the one who had done the blastedly difficult charm work, something he would have never managed had he not subtly asked Dumbledore if it was possible to copy and manipulate somebody's voice through magic during one of their lessons. The old man had shot him a rather curious look but he had, as usual, answered Harry's question with little hesitation.
Upon further reflection, Harry thought the prank may have been a little bit overkill, especially when one took into account the 30 points each of the twins had lost Gryffindor and the week of detention they had suffered. That had been until today, when the twins had somehow managed to convince Peeves to come flying in during their lesson with Snape and the Slytherins and trash the place. The worst part was when he had loudly proclaiming how proud he was to do Harry and his friends' bidding all the way. This had earned them a week of detentions themselves, and 25 points each from Gryffindor. Now, the four of them slumped into arm chairs near the fire after scrubbing away at trophies for hours under the watchful eye of Argus Filch.
"No bloody magic," Ron was complaining, "and then Peeves had to come in and tip over that damn plaque so I had to scrub it again because," he screwed up his voice, doing his best impression of Filch, "do you have any idea the filth on these floors? No, you'll scrub it again or you'll pack your bags!" Ron wrinkled his nose in disgust. "If I have to see the name Tom Marvolo Riddle again, on a trophy or otherwise this year, I'm gonna throw myself off of the astronomy tower."
"I feel that." Said Dean, rubbing at his arm as if it were going to fall off, which, in all four of their cases, felt like a serious possibility.
"This is getting a bit out of hand." Neville said. "Do you think we can just call for a truce?"
"I'm not letting them win!" Hissed Harry. "If we call for a truce, it'll be so with a wand to their throats. If we call for a truce, we're making sure they have no choice in the matter."
"Umm... call me crazy," said Dean with a wicked grin, "but I think I have an idea." They all looked at him expectantly. "I know Harry will have, but have you two ever heard of super glue?"
October 17th 1992.
Gryffindor Tower.
Fourth Year Boys Dormatory.
9:36 AM.
Fred and George Weasley had always been late risers. As such, they were fairly accustomed to being the only two boys in their dormitory upon waking. What they were not accustomed to, however, was waking up to the sight of four second years leering at them. What they were even less accustomed to, was waking up in nothing but their boxers stuck to the ceiling and looking straight down towards the floor.
"What the fuck!" Cursed Fred, trying madly to free himself from the ceiling but he could barely move. "What in the actual fuck! You dicks!"
"Calm down, brother dear," taunted Ron, doing his best to mimick the twins' manner of speaking. "We only want to chat."
"To negotiate," corrected Harry.
"We're not interested!" Hissed Fred, enraged.
"Oh yeah?" Dean asked with a smirk. "Correct me if I'm wrong, friends of mine," he asked Harry, Ron and Neville, "but it doesn't really look like they've got a choice, does it?"
The twins hissed in fury. "What do you want?" George asked, who seemed the more cool headed out of the two.
"A truce." Said Neville. "This has gone far enough at this point. We have lives to live and pranks are fun and all, but they've gotten a bit out of hand lately."
"No!" Snapped Fred. "I'm not calling off anything. When I get down from this ceiling-"
"Yeah, about that," said Harry with a devious smile, "trust me when I say you're not getting off that ceiling unless we want you to." They had, using a sleeping potion that Harry had brewed, assured the twins would not wake up as they used a mixture of super glue, sticking charms, and Runes to lengthen and strengthen the effect, which Harry had asked for help with from Daphne during their last meeting, to stick the twins to the ceiling. "Either you negotiate now," proposed Harry, "or we leave you on that ceiling for the rest of your dorm mates to find you. So, Fredikins, Georgikins, what will it be?"
The twins did not answer for a long moment before they spoke as one. "A compromise!"
"The Halloween feast," started Fred.
"We'll both plan pranks of some kind."
"But not on each other, and nothing that can do real harm."
"Let's see who outdoes who!"
"Winner takes all!"
The room was dead silent for several seconds before, in a perfect imitation of the twins, the four second year Gryffindors spoke as one.
"You're on!"
October 17th 1992.
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
10:43 AM.
Ginny was shaking with fear, confusion and astonishment. She had been through full nights of revision the last two days with Hermione for Potions, so she had been quite out of it last night. With that being said though, she did not remember entering, nor could she explain why on earth she woke up, or at least came to be in a puddle of water in a girl's bathroom that wasn't even in use anymore.
Author's Endnote:
I must admit that was a filler chapter if I've ever written one, but there was some important setup in there, both obvious and not obvious, so it was necessary to write something for this period of time. I hope you guys enjoyed the change of pace, because it was devilishly hard, but admittedly super fun to write.
Please read and review.