Written for the Hogwarts forum: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (Challenges and Assignments). This was written for Assignment #7 Subject: Careers Advice, for the Second Task - "Write about someone collecting parts/ingredients or components for the creation of something."
"How's it going?" Fred calls, holding the ladder still. The ladder, technically, belongs to the massive bookshelf in the Gryffindor study room. Along with his brother, Fred's repurposed it for a much better, more glorious reason—to retrieve the years-old cobwebs from above the window.
There's a grunt as George wiggles around at top, hand stretching for the top. "'S going," he replies. "Wish we were at Quidditch though."
Fred hums. There's no Quidditch game on right now—they wouldn't miss that, not for the world, even if they had to watch Charlie play rather than play themselves—but Gryffindor practice is happening. Unfortunately, first years aren't allowed to play Quidditch which both George and Fred think is ridiculous because they'd be the best.
"Buller's probably making a fool of himself," Fred says at last. Buller is one of the two beaters—and definitely doesn't deserve to be on the team. An owl would be better. Errol would be better, and that's saying a great deal indeed.
George leans forward a bit more. "Don't you mean Muller?"
Grinning, Fred counters, "Nah, it's Bowler, isn't it?"
"Bowel-er," George says, stressing the word. He cackles, wobbles, and lunges for the curtain railing just as Fred finds himself losing control of the ladder.
It's a thing that happens in slow motion, Fred thinks, as he watches the ladder come towards him, swinging away from George who is hanging onto the curtain railing for dear life. Already Fred can imagine the Howler they're going to get when their mum finds out they ended up in the Hospital Wing because they weren't tall enough to reach the cobwebs they need for the prank potion. She's going to be mad.
Blinking, Fred realises that the ladder isn't coming towards him anymore. In fact, it's barely moving. He glances up at George, who isn't looking down, and is still far too busy kicking his feet to try to keep himself from falling down.
"You're welcome," a familiar voice says from behind him. The ladder wavers for a second, before being moved away and ending up laid out on the ground. Fred turns and comes face to face with another Gryffindor—one he's pretty certain he shares a dorm room with. Maybe. George would know. He's the one who's better with faces.
There's nothing sarcastic about the boy's tone despite his words; he's grinning, a bit crooked, and he has a massive gap between his two front teeth. What really catches Fred's attention is the way his eyes glimmer like George's eyes do when they're planning pranks, like Fred's own eyes too. "Whatcha up to?"
"Cleaning," Fred answers promptly, just as the curtain railing gives way with a whine. George goes swinging and collides into him, and they go down in a tangle of limbs.
Thankfully, they're back upright in a few seconds. It'd take way more to keep them down—they're Weasleys after all. Fred's taken worse blows from Bill and Charlie when they're both being prats.
George clears his throat, smiling, and says, "That was already like that when we found it. We were trying to fix it."
Fred elbows his brother who just ruined his excuse. "And cleaning," he hastily adds. "The House-elves probably couldn't get to that bit. It's a bit high."
The other student hums, rocking back and forth on his heels as he glances upward. "See," he says, tone thoughtful, "I'd really believe that, I would, if not for two things."
Doing his best impression of mum, Fred tries to raise an eyebrow. He's not entirely sure how successful he is, but he knows that George is doing the exact same thing beside him.
The boy's grin widens, grows a bit more lopsided, and says, "You see, I remember you two from when we first got here. You tipped your boat over in the lake on purpose an' got away with it."
"Well," Fred says, taking care not to sound too gleeful, "there's no-"
"-proof of that," George finishes easily. "Even Hagrid didn't think-"
"-that it was on purpose, and he'd know." Fred doesn't reach out to high-five his twin, but only because they stopped doing that for speaking together when they were six. They only high-five for important things now—like successful pranks, insulting their siblings, and stealing the last slice of cake before anyone else notices.
"Hagrid might not think it was on purpose," the boy says, "but I was in the next boat over and heard your discussion. You both agreed to do it 'cause you wanted to see if the Giant Squid would help you out. Only it didn't because Hagrid got their first."
Fred crosses his arms because there's really nothing he can say in their defence. "And what's the second thing?" George asks.
"You did say there were two," Fred agrees.
"Oh, the other thing was the fact we learnt about the tongue colour changing potion the other day and one of the ingredients involves cobwebs older than a year—such as the ones above that window." Having concluded his reasoning, the boy grins at them.
Fred looks at George, who looks at him, and they nod at each other, decision made. "And who're you going to tell?" George asks, stepping forward and doing his best to be looming. He's not very good at it, but that's only because both Bill and Charlie are taller. Thankfully, neither of their older brothers are here which means that it's just them and this other first year.
"If you know what's good for you, you should keep your mouth shut," Fred says, stepping forward to join his twin and adding to the looming.
The boy's eyes crinkle. "Nah, I was gonna ask if you wanted a hand. You're both good but it's clear you need a look-out if I managed to catch you. I doubt you'd want a prefect to see you or- or what's-his-face. Your brother. The younger one. Percy?"
Fred grimaces. Percy would be the worst. He'd owl mum and mum would then owl them. If they were caught by Bill or Charlie, they'd just get a talking to—which wouldn't be ideal, but it'd be far better than involving their mum at the very least.
"Alright," George says, glancing at Fred who nods. "You can help us. I'm Greg."
Quickly catching on, Fred says, "And I'm Gorge. Or wait, maybe I'm Freg."
Stroking his chin, George says. "Perhaps my name's actually Gred."
"Then I'm Forge," the grinning boy says, clearly figuring out what they're doing.
Fred laughs. "And I'm Fred!" It's only when he catches George rolling his eyes does he realise that he stuffed up. His face falls.
The boy begins to laugh. "I got you!"
Shaking his head, Fred is hard-pressed to disagree. "I suppose you did. Well, as you figured, I'm Fred Weasley and-"
"-I'm George Weasley." His twin does a theatrical bow. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."
"It's nice to meet you both. I'm Lee Jordan," their third partner-in-crime says.
Fred grins. He has a good feeling about this friendship—and all the chaos it will cause.