"The Chamber of Secrets has been opened…" Fred repeated. "What does that mean?"

George pulled on a sweater. "I don't know. After practice we'll go down to the library and get a copy of Hogwarts, A History. All right? Hey, have you talked to Ron? I didn't see him come back last night."

"I haven't seen him." Fred grabbed his broomstick. "C'mon, let's go. Wood'll freak out if we're late."

Strangely, the twins were the first ones to the pitch that foggy morning. Well, except for Oliver, he was there. Wood was bent over a diagram of a Quidditch field, which he'd shown them many times before, and was chewing on the end of his quill. "No, no, that's not right," he mumbled to himself.

"What's not right?" came another voice. Fred hadn't noticed, but Harry was also there, nearly asleep, his faced pressed against the end of his broom.

"No, don't provoke him, Harry!" George hissed.

Wood, apparently, hadn't heard either of them, however. He scribbled out a few things, then redrew them in different places, and sat up, smiling as if he was proud of something. He glanced up at Fred and George, for the first time noticing their presence. "Oh, Weasleys, good morning. Perfect day for playing Quidditch." He thought a moment, tapping the quill against his face. "Where are my Chasers?"

"I saw Katie. But I think she went for a bite to eat," Fred said. His stomach rumbled and he wished he had done the same thing.

"A bite to eat?!" Oliver exclaimed, that same crazy gleam back in his eyes. "I told everyone to be here at five sharp. It's now…look! It's five fifteen!"

At that moment, Katie, Angelina, and Alicia Spinnet entered the room. "Sorry we're late, Oliver," Katie apologized. "I figured you were going to work us extra hard today, and if that was the case, I needed to eat something beforehand."

Fred stomach growled again and Angelina looked to him. "Oh, here, I brought you two something." She handed each of them an apple.

"You're a saint, Angie, a saint," Fred said, biting into the juicy, red apple. Just as he finished the scrumptious piece of fruit, Oliver stood up and ordered them all out onto the field.

He let out the Bludgers for the twins to play with, the Snitch for Harry, and handed the Quaffle to Alicia. He had a few new moves for the Chasers to try out. Wood, of course, flew up to guard the goal posts.

"It really doesn't make sense to practice when you're a Beater," Fred said before shooting off to whack a Bludger away from Katie, who was carrying the Quaffle.

Harry nodded and zoomed up higher to look for the Snitch. "Or a Seeker," he called when Fred came flying back across the field.

"Oh, no, Harry, you must exercise your eyes," Fred said sarcastically.

"Sounds like something Oliver would say," Harry pointed out. "Oh." He broke into a dive.

Fred flew around the field a little, looking for an attacking Bludger. None were to be seen. One had been about to run into Harry, but the Seeker ducked and it went on its way. Then he spotted one down by the Chasers again and quickly flew to stop it.

The practice went on like this for another two hours, before they were called down to the ground where Wood was waiting. He gave another speech about them all being the best Quidditch team in the school and how they had the potential to win, if they'd all set their minds to it ("How could we set our minds to anything else with you around, Oliver?" George said). And then he let them leave, saying he needed to speak to Harry before the second-year left.

Fred looked back, feeling sorry for Harry. "Poor kid. Wood won't leave him alone. I think he's interrogating him on why he wasn't at the Halloween feast."

George nodded. "Look, it's Ron." He pointed to a tall, gangly boy running down the hill to the pitch they were walking away from. "Probably wondering where Harry is."

The boy met up with them and asked, clearly out of breath, "Where's Harry?"

Fred smiled. "He's having a talk with Wood." Ron made to run again, but Fred stopped him. "I wouldn't go in there if I were you. You know how testy Wood gets right before a match. Especially when it's against Slytherin."

Ron frowned. "Oh."

"By the way," George began, "where were you last night? We didn't see you at the feast."

Their little brother made a face of disgust. "Nearly Headless Nick's deathday party," he answered. At the twins' looks of confusion and amusement, he said, "Believe me, you don't want to know."

"What do you make of that Chamber of Secrets thing?" Fred asked, leaning on his broomstick.

"Uh. I dunno," Ron said quickly. "Well, I'd better get Harry. Er, see you at lunch!" He ran off toward the pitch.

Fred gave George a puzzled look. "That was strange."

"I'm sure it's nothing," George assured him. "C'mon, they're waiting for us."

Fred look up ahead and saw the three Chasers standing still, staring at them. He and George trudged up the hill to meet them, and they walked back to Gryffindor Tower together.

~

"Oy, Hermione!" George called. The bushy-haired second-year was sitting by the fireplace working on an essay.

She looked up. "What?"

"Since you're Ron's best friend, you ought to know what his problem is." George sat down beside her. "He's been acting strange since Halloween."

She gave him a confused look. "Strange?" Her tone almost seemed nervous. "How do you mean, strange? He's been acting normal enough to me."

George and Fred exchanged suspicious glances. "Well, he keeps running off, when we try to talk to him," Fred explained. "You know, makes his sentences real short and quick."

"Oh. Well, I haven't noticed that. Maybe he ate a bad toenail –I mean turnip." She picked up her things quickly. "Well, I'd better get going. I want to get a good seat for the match." She hurried out of the common room.

"Right…" George picked up his broomstick from the couch and said, "We'd better go."

~

When the whole team had changed into their Quidditch robes and had gathered in the changing room, Wood began his pep talk, though the Weasleys interrupted him once or twice. Naturally, he placed a lot of pressure on Harry, saying, "Get to that Snitch before Malfoy or die trying, Harry, because we've got to win today, we've got to."

"So no pressure, Harry," Fred said, noticing the Seeker gulping.

Soon the game had begun. George immediately had to come to Harry's rescue, when a Bludger came soaring at him. Strangely, though, after George had hit it, it changed directions in mid-air, coming right back at Harry.

Fred hovered at the other end of the field and swung at the Bludger still seeking Harry. "Someone's – tampered – with – this – Bludger –" He stared helplessly at his brother.

George signaled to Wood for a time out and they all landed on the ground. "What's going on?" the captain cried. The twins explained the Bludger would not leave Harry alone.

"Listen," Harry said, interrupting them. Boldly, he told Fred and George to let him deal with the rogue Bludger on his own.

"Don't be thick," Fred said, pushing a clump of sopping wet hair out of his face. "That thing'll take your head off."

Alicia tried to reason with Wood, but it was to no avail. Harry had put his foot down, and he didn't want to be the cause of another loss.

"This is all your fault," George said angrily, glaring at Wood. " 'Get the Snitch or die trying,' what a stupid thing to tell him –"

At that point Madam Hooch came up to them. Wood told her that they were ready to resume the game. He turned to the twins and said, "Fred, George, you heard Harry – leave him alone and let him deal with the Bludger on his own."

The twins grumbled and the game began again. Fred still hit the Bludger away from Harry whenever he could, however. Not ten minutes later, though, the whistle blew signaling the end of the game. Gryffindor had won. Harry, however, didn't come out of the game as well as everyone else. The Bludger had hit his arm, shattering the bones inside it.

"Well, I hope Oliver's happy," Fred grunted, as he and George wrestled the Bludger into a box. "Poor Harry's got a broken arm now." Once they had finished, they made their way to the rest of the team.

Alicia Spinnet was waving her hands around and shouting. "I can't believe you let that happen, Oliver," Alicia was yelling. "All to win one stupid match!"

Oliver opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off.

"This is unforgivable!" she cried, stamping her foot and splashing the whole team with mud.

"Alicia, calm down!" George grabbed her shoulders from behind. She whipped around to face him. "Look, I don't agree with Wood's decision either, but you all heard Harry. He wanted us to leave him alone." He looked at Wood.

The Keeper sighed. "Let's go up to the hospital wing to see how he's doing," he said, shouldering his broomstick. He smiled. Even though he felt sorry for Harry, he was still ecstatic about winning the first game of the season.

When they entered the castle, Fred and George said they needed to pick some things up and disappeared down a corridor. They snuck into the kitchens through the portrait hole behind the painting of the fruit bowl and emerged laden with several bottles of pumpkin juice and many cakes and candies.

The twins met up with the rest of the team just outside the infirmary.

Harry certainly looked surprised, and probably grateful for them as the team walked into the room, robes drenched and muddy.

George went to Harry's side and said, "Unbelievable flying, Harry. I've just seen Marcus Flint yelling at Malfoy. Something about having the Snitch on top of his head and not noticing. Malfoy didn't seem too happy."

Fred chuckled. "We brought food and drink."

"For what?" Harry questioned.

Fred shook his head and repeated, "For what. For the party, you nit!"

"Party?!" Madam Pomfrey, the school's head nurse, burst into the room. "Out! Out! Everybody out! This boy needs his rest!" She shooed them all out of the room and slammed the door shut.

Fred sighed and wiped some of the water of his face. It didn't do him any good, though, unless his plan was to smear mud all over his forehead and cheeks.

Angelina giggled. Her normally frizzy hair was plastered to the side of her face. "Look at you," she simply said.

"What?" He looked up and down at his robes.

By this time the rest of the team had disappeared down the corridor. She stepped closer and grabbed the sleeve of her Quidditch robes. She tried to wipe the mud from his face but only made it worse. Laughing, she stepped back. "Much better."

He pushed her away playfully. "Thanks."

George poked his head out from around a corner. "Hey, lovebirds!" he called. "We're getting lunch to celebrate our win."

Angelina smiled. "We're coming." She gave Fred a light push and they followed George to the Great Hall.

~

A drop of dirty rainwater splashed into Fred's pumpkin juice. "I'm thinking we should have changed first." He pushed the goblet away.

Wood raised his goblet. "To winning!" After Alicia jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow, he said again, "I mean, to Harry! And to winning!"

George pounded the table with his fist. "Here, here!"

They all drank from their goblets and in Fred's case, some of the juice dribbled down his chin. Soon the whole table had erupted in laughter, attracting the attention of the Slytherin Quidditch team.

The captain of the team, Marcus Flint, who Fred had associated with a horse on more than one occasion, stepped up to them. "So, looks like you beat us."

Oliver puffed out his chest in an important sort of way. "Looks like we did." He stood up; his eyes level with Flint's. "You should probably book the field to train a replacement for that pathetic excuse of a Seeker you've got." Flint sneered as Oliver continued. "Even with your Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones, you still can't beat us."

"I guess speed isn't everything," Fred added.

"Well, we'll see about that," Flint snarled. He turned around and led his team away from the table and out of the hall.

Angelina smiled. "I didn't see that Malfoy with him. I wonder where he is."

"Probably bawling in his dormitory," George said, snickering. He gulped down the rest of his juice. "But that's what happens when you let Quidditch become personal. He was so busy poking fun at Harry, he didn't see the thing hovering above his shoulder!"

"Wood's a perfect example of this," Fred said grinning. "Quidditch is his life. You've all seen him after losing a match –not a pretty sight, is it? No. It's the same thing." He chuckled, remembering the final match of his first year on the team. They were beaten so badly, that Oliver had threatened to kill himself that afternoon. He turned back to his food but was interrupted by Ron, as the second-year plopped down next to him, sighing. "What's wrong with you?"

"Oh, nothing," Ron said. "I wonder when Harry will be out of there."

Fred shrugged. "He does have to re-grow all of the bones in his arm you know. But he'll probably be out by tomorrow."

"He'd better be, anyway," George said, side glancing at Wood. "Oliver would have a fit if he wasn't."

"You've got practice again tomorrow?" Ron asked, intrigued.

"Knowing Oliver, most likely." Fred eyed his brother suspiciously. "Why do you care?"

"I dunno." He began eating and ignored his brothers for the rest of the meal. In less than ten minutes, the twelve-year-old was gone.

"I wonder where he's gone," George said to his twin.