After the long trip on the Hogwarts Express, and the welcoming feast in the great hall, and almost everyone was asleep, Fred and George conversed quietly in the seventh year boy's dormitory.
"Go to sleep! If we want to make that music video, we have to have gotten enough sleep!"
"But I've set my alarm clock –"
"That doesn't make any difference if you haven't gotten any sleep!"
"Right. I guess we'd better, then," yawned Fred, who supposedly wasn't tired at all.
"Good night," sighed George.
It barely felt like the twins had closed their eyes when Fred's alarm clock went off.
"Noooo!" hissed George, "Turn it off, it'll wake the whole tower!"
"Agh!" Fred groped for it and accidentally knocked it off his bedside table. It skidded across the floor and stopped under Lee Jordan's bed. Both the twins scrambled for it at the same time, almost tipping Lee's bed over. Lee gave a shout.
"Whoops, sorry about that, Lee!" said George, getting to his feet , grabbing his trunk and heading toward the stairs. "You can just go back to sleep now!" Fred had turned off (more like blown up) the alarm clock and was also making his way toward the door.
"Thought we'd get some early morning Quidditch practice in, first day, you know? See ya!" Fred and George dashed out into the common room and were about to go out of the portrait hole when Fred realized something. "We need Ron!"
"Well of course we need Ron, he's our brother," said George obliviously, "let's go."
"No, we need an electric guitarist! We can't play music with just base guitars!"
George slapped his forehead. "Oy, how could we be so thick?"
"I'll go get him," said Fred, already heading back to the dorm rooms.
"Ron, wake up. Wake up, you idiot! Ron! Heloooo – "
"George, stoppit!" said Ron groggily. "I'm tryinta sleep…"
"Not anymore, sunshine!" said Fred, "and by the way, my name is Fred."
"Fred, Fred…" said Ron as Fred pulled him out of bed and put a red sweater over his head.
"Hey!" said Ron, suddenly wide awake and excited about something.
"What?" said Fred. "You were sleeping like dead and now you have bed head?"
"No!" exclaimed Ron ecstatically. "That rhymes!"
"Yeah, let's all sit up in your dorm and make rhymes!" said Fred sarcastically. "I didn't mean to say that, the author made me do it!"
"Isn't the author's name Fred, too?"
"Yes," said Fred, very irritated. "But that isn't the point. Let's go!"
They took their supplies and the three redheads fled and sped down the stairs like a sled.
"Hey!" said Ron angrily.
"What?" said the irritated Fred and George.
" 'Stairs' doesn't rhyme with 'fled' and 'sped'!"
"Like anybody cares but you and Lambchop," said George, who began to gorge himself on porridge and didn't forge.
"Hey, now you're rhyming, George!" Ron looked extremely entertained.
"Fred made me do it!" shouted George accusingly.
"Hey, wait," said Fred, we can put our uncontrollable rhyming to good use. We can use it in our music vid, since we don't know what song to sing!"
"Yeah…" said George and Ron.
"By the way, where'd you get the porridge, George?" Fred said.
"Come to think of it," said George, "I don't really know!" He chucked the porridge out the window.
"And where'd that window come from?"
"Come to think of it," said George, "I don't really know!" He did something that was supposed to be chucking the window out the window.
"And where'd Ron come from?"
"Come to think of it," said George evilly, grabbing Ron and getting ready to chuck him out the window, "I don't really –" But then Fred stopped him.
"Stop, I was just joking!"
"Things are really screwy when people get up too early in the morning."
The sky above the empty Quidditch field was a beautiful shade of orange-gold. The thin, whispy yellow clouds rippled in the reflected sunlight. The dew on the grass sparkled silver against the golden sky.
"How can clouds ripple?" asked George.
"Oh, shut up," said Fred, the author, walking out onto the field. "I'm trying to create perceptive imagery. Sheesh, don't you incompetent twerps ever read Edgar Allan Poe?"
"You read Edgar Allan Poe?" said Fred and George, and they both burst into fits of laughter.
"It's for an assignment at school!" argued Fred, (the author), going red in the face. "And I like perceptive imagery!" At that, he stomped off the field, grumbling. "Criminey, people these days… When did the subject of Edgar Allan Poe become so frickin' funny? Sheesh!"
"Okay," said George, "back to the facts." He and Fred began to set up speakers, lights, and various pieces of equipment all over the field. When they were done, they had turned it into what looked like an enormous movie setup.
"Lights," said Ron.
"Camera," said George.
"Action!" said Fred.
A.N. The next chapter gets kind of insane, because I was on a chocolate high while I was writing it, so Reilyn should love it! Thanks for the flames, now I can roast marshmallows!
