The Weasley twins had pulled many pranks during their time at Hogwarts. They had endured the trauma of detentions with Filch. The two were seasoned pranking veterans. But they had absolutely no inhibitions or the foggiest notion of when to stop. This time, they had gone too far, but nobody knew it until too late, least of all themselves.
Hermione POV
I woke to the obnoxious sound of a Hair-drying Charm. Padma was standing at the mirror in our bathroom, a smile on her face as she looked in the mirror. That girl was so full of herself, I was afraid she would burst one day. I reached into my trunk and pulled out a black robe. Slipping it on, I grabbed my book and went downstairs to the common room, hoping to get some reading in before breakfast.
Not even fifteen minutes into my book, a dramatic story of a girl kidnapped by pirates, I felt a pair of hands cover my eyes. "Guess who?" I heard the deep voice that could only be Harry say. I slapped his hands away. "Harry, I'm trying to read here!" I scolded, trying to sound appropriately annoyed with him but succumbing to a bout of giggles. I put on my blue scarf - Ravenclaw spirit - and grabbed his hand, pulling him out through the portrait and towards the Great Hall. I blushed slightly, it was not my plan to hold his hand, but I couldn't think of a good reason to let go. As soon as we entered the Great Hall, poor Harry was mobbed by fangirls begging for his autograph. "Oh no," I heard Ginny Weasley wail, "I forgot a pen! D'you think he'd sign this picture in lipstick?"Harry's face had paled dramatically, so I dragged him over to the relative safety of the Ravenclaw table as quickly as I could, trailing only a few 'Claw fangirls like Cho Chang and Lisa Turpin. I heard him sigh in relief as he dug into his pancakes, safe at last. "Harry, what are you planning to do for your Charms homework?" I asked, trying to start some conversation. "Oh, Flitwick didn't assign any. He said he was feeling funny. Why, come to think of it, where is he?" I glanced up at the staff table. Sure enough, next to a perpetually displeased (and potentially constipated) Snape, Flitwick's chair was empty. This did not bode well for Charms class later today. My thoughts were interrupted by identical cackles from the Weasley twins over at the Gryffindor table. I suddenly felt very scared of what was going to happen next.
A minute passed. Then five more. I relaxed a little, it was probably nothing. I speared another sausage with my fork and raised it to my mouth...
BANG! The doors to the Great Hall flew open with a bang. At first I thought that there was nobody behind them, but then my gaze dropped lower. And lower. And lower. Until I caught sight of Professor Flitwick. In baggy pants that hung so low, they brushed the floor. In seventeen different sparkling necklaces and one plaid flat cap. "Professor Flitwick, sir-" stuttered a fearful first-year, "Dang, sista," he interrupted her, "It's Funkmaster Flicky-Flick in the house." My head started spinning. "Pinch me," I whispered, hoping it was a dream. Harry obeyed. "Ow!" I yelped. I held back a groan. This was the worst reality check ever. I fell backward, and everything went black.