"What the hell are you doing?" Bill asked his brother upon finding him sitting atop a dusty black trunk.
"Trying to get this shit closed," Fred answered, now pounding on the lid of the trunk with his fist.
"Well, obviously. I mean where the hell are you going?"
"Hogwarts. Could you give me a hand with this blasted trunk?" Fred growled frusteratedly as the lid of the trunk popped open.
Bill rolled his eyes. "Just use magic," he said exasperatedly. "Like this..." He pulled an old wand out of his dungaree pocket, held it high above his head and shouted the incantation for some simple locking charm. The trunk's lid flew shut and quickly latched. "Now, why didn't you think of that yourself?"
"I'm teaching at Hogwarts this year. I'm not allowed to use magic in vain. Thanks," Fred said as he sculpted his wild red mohawk into a series of lethal spikes.
"You're going to teach at Hogwarts... Looking like that?"Bill laughed, pointing at Fred's lovely hairdo.
"Yeah, why not? They can't fire me because of my hair-style. OH! I almost forgot!" He yelped when he noticed his favorite pair of battered combat boots by his bed, one having been tipped over on its side.
"Leave the damn combat boots," Bill advised. "As sexy as they are, they will not help you make a good impression. Besides, your trunk cannot fit any more."
Fred was glad thet Bill did not object to his upcoming teaching job as strongly as his father, who had refused to write a reccomendation. He became more angry when Fred told him that no reccomendation was needed; he already sent Pigwidgeon to Dumbledore with his reply and Pig had returned that morning with news that he got the job. Mr. Weasley was concerned about the students becoming corrupted due to Fred's wonderful influence.
Explaining the situation to George, however, would be a whole different story.
------------------
"What!? But what about the shop?" George exploded upon hearing his twin brother's plans for the year.
"You can take care of the shop for a year." Fred was not expecting George to settle with this solution. He just had nothing else to say.
"All by myself!? We agreed on day one that this would be a team effort!"
"So hire a few part-timers," Fred suggested. This time, he was expecting George to be content.
"It's not that simple, Fred; it's a big ordeal to start hiring!" George shouted, flailing his arms as if he were about to strangle his brother.
"I'll tell you what," Fred thought out loud as an excellent idea entered his brain, "I'll be getting payed a ton so I could put twenty percent of my income towards the shop."
This idea calmed George somewhat. His face was still redder than his hair but he stopped hollering and thought for a moment.
"Thirty-five percent," snapped George.
Fred twitched his mouth as he thought this over for a moment. "Alright. Thirty-five. It's a deal."
"Hand shake?" George asked, extending his arm. The two brother shook hands and cemented a deal.
All of a sudden, the heavy sound of muggle music sounded from outside.
"Trying to get this shit closed," Fred answered, now pounding on the lid of the trunk with his fist.
"Well, obviously. I mean where the hell are you going?"
"Hogwarts. Could you give me a hand with this blasted trunk?" Fred growled frusteratedly as the lid of the trunk popped open.
Bill rolled his eyes. "Just use magic," he said exasperatedly. "Like this..." He pulled an old wand out of his dungaree pocket, held it high above his head and shouted the incantation for some simple locking charm. The trunk's lid flew shut and quickly latched. "Now, why didn't you think of that yourself?"
"I'm teaching at Hogwarts this year. I'm not allowed to use magic in vain. Thanks," Fred said as he sculpted his wild red mohawk into a series of lethal spikes.
"You're going to teach at Hogwarts... Looking like that?"Bill laughed, pointing at Fred's lovely hairdo.
"Yeah, why not? They can't fire me because of my hair-style. OH! I almost forgot!" He yelped when he noticed his favorite pair of battered combat boots by his bed, one having been tipped over on its side.
"Leave the damn combat boots," Bill advised. "As sexy as they are, they will not help you make a good impression. Besides, your trunk cannot fit any more."
Fred was glad thet Bill did not object to his upcoming teaching job as strongly as his father, who had refused to write a reccomendation. He became more angry when Fred told him that no reccomendation was needed; he already sent Pigwidgeon to Dumbledore with his reply and Pig had returned that morning with news that he got the job. Mr. Weasley was concerned about the students becoming corrupted due to Fred's wonderful influence.
Explaining the situation to George, however, would be a whole different story.
------------------
"What!? But what about the shop?" George exploded upon hearing his twin brother's plans for the year.
"You can take care of the shop for a year." Fred was not expecting George to settle with this solution. He just had nothing else to say.
"All by myself!? We agreed on day one that this would be a team effort!"
"So hire a few part-timers," Fred suggested. This time, he was expecting George to be content.
"It's not that simple, Fred; it's a big ordeal to start hiring!" George shouted, flailing his arms as if he were about to strangle his brother.
"I'll tell you what," Fred thought out loud as an excellent idea entered his brain, "I'll be getting payed a ton so I could put twenty percent of my income towards the shop."
This idea calmed George somewhat. His face was still redder than his hair but he stopped hollering and thought for a moment.
"Thirty-five percent," snapped George.
Fred twitched his mouth as he thought this over for a moment. "Alright. Thirty-five. It's a deal."
"Hand shake?" George asked, extending his arm. The two brother shook hands and cemented a deal.
All of a sudden, the heavy sound of muggle music sounded from outside.