"327...328...329..."
Fred was enjoying an afternoon walk by himself near the edge of the Forbidden Forest when he heard a young man's voice carry along the hills. As always, curiosity compelled him to investigate. With George having wandered off somewhere—probably teasing that first year again—he needed something to amuse him. And what he found seemed promising indeed.
"330...331...332..."
Another of those strange first years was at the base of a small hill; he'd shed his thick robes and was striking the trunk of a sturdy tree with repeated side kicks. Each blow was accompanied by a number from the dark- haired, round-eyed boy.
"Hey." Fred trotted down the hill and squatted just to the side of the boy. "What are you doing?"
"Training," the boy replied, not breaking his pace. "400 side kicks. If I can't do it, I'll have to do 500 push-ups."
"Sounds like a damn lot of work!" Fred declared with a shake of his head. "You must be that Lee kid people were talking about." He bounced a little on his haunches. "You do realize that side kicks aren't going to make Snape's potions class any easier."
But Lee didn't miss a beat. "In order to improve one's mind, one must first train their body. And yes, I am Rock Lee."
"Thought so. You're kind of infamous already." Fred grinned as he watched the boy continue to train. "Hey. What number were you on?"
Lee stopped, lowering his leg as he turned slowly to face the elder. "I lost count," he said dejectedly.
"500 push-ups, wasn't it?"
Lee nodded resolutely, but as he started to lower himself to the ground Fred tapped him on the shoulder. "I think," he said secretively, "I can come up with something a little more effective for your training."
Some minutes later the pair was standing just before the Whomping Willow. Fred had his hands on his hips, looking quite proud of himself, while Lee was merely dubious. "This," Fred introduced grandly, "is the Whomping Willow. You've been warned to stay away from it—and why? Because it is a fearsome protector of the school grounds for decades."
"Protector?" Lee echoed, his puzzlement beginning to melt into awe.
"That's right!" Fred heartily assured. "I'd say, oh, 200 laps around Whomping Willow ought to get you in shape."
Lee's expression hardened as his fists clenched in determination. "200 laps around the Whomping Willow," he repeated. "If I can't do it—"
"Leave that to me," Fred interrupted. "I'll think of something."
Some minutes later Fred and Lee were in the main hall, having just returned from Madam Pomfrey's with lotion for Lee's many bruises and welts. They'd attracted the attention of quite a few students, who were gathering around as Fred laid out his latest plan for Lee's training.
"These," he explained, tugging several very large sacks out of his robes, "are Bertie Bots' Every Flavor Beans. They range from strawberry to urine. If you can eat 70 of these beans, I think we can all consider that shining proof of your determination and tenacity."
Lee glared down at the sacks that contained what were to be his new opponents. All around him the students were cheering and egging him on. "70 of Bernie Bots' Every Flavor Beans," he said to himself. "If I can't do that—"
"You let me handle that," Fred interrupted with a wink.
Some minutes later Fred and Lee, after another trip to Madam Pomfrey's and accompanied by a group of students who'd followed them from the hall, were sneaking into Professor Lupin's classroom. They quickly unearthed a large trunk and dragged it to the center of the room with warnings for their onlookers.
"These," Fred began anew, "are Blue Pixies. Nasty little devils—very fast. If you can catch 30 of these little brats, that'd make you just about the fastest, most clever wizard I ever saw."
Lee, holding his aching stomach, gulped. "30...Blue Pixies," he repeated, amidst the calls from their crowd. "If I can't do that—"
"Ah ah ah. I'm the trainer here, right?"
Some minutes later Fred, Lee, and a parade of at least twenty other students were creeping into the dungeons. Or rather, Fred was dragging a bruised, battered, aching, nauseous, and utterly exhausted Lee down the spiral staircases to Snape's potions classroom.
"This," Fred told him in a whisper, "is Professor Snape's room—the terror of Hogwarts. I heard he was having a student for detention but they should be finished by now. If you can sneak through the classroom, into his office, and steal the porcelain tea cup from his desk, that will make you the absolute King of Hogwarts."
All around, the students buzzed excitedly.
Lee took a deep breath to steel his nerves. "Steal a porcelain tea cup from Professor Snape's desk," he repeated.
Fred waited a moment, and when nothing else followed, he questioned, "If you can't do it...?"
Lee shook his head resolutely. "No—this time, I have to do it!"
Some seconds later Lee emerged from the classroom, his face deathly pale and gait rigid. He met Fred's gaze with a look of shock and horror in his wide, dark eyes. "I couldn't do it," he said weakly. And then he passed out on the dungeon floor, surrounded by many curious stares.
"Hey, Fred," George greeted as he slipped through the murmuring crowd. "Have you seen Ron? Harry was looking for him earlier." He paused at the sight of the unconscious boy. "What happened to him?"
Fred shrugged. "Dunno," he admitted. "But I'm sure as hell not going in there."
Fred was enjoying an afternoon walk by himself near the edge of the Forbidden Forest when he heard a young man's voice carry along the hills. As always, curiosity compelled him to investigate. With George having wandered off somewhere—probably teasing that first year again—he needed something to amuse him. And what he found seemed promising indeed.
"330...331...332..."
Another of those strange first years was at the base of a small hill; he'd shed his thick robes and was striking the trunk of a sturdy tree with repeated side kicks. Each blow was accompanied by a number from the dark- haired, round-eyed boy.
"Hey." Fred trotted down the hill and squatted just to the side of the boy. "What are you doing?"
"Training," the boy replied, not breaking his pace. "400 side kicks. If I can't do it, I'll have to do 500 push-ups."
"Sounds like a damn lot of work!" Fred declared with a shake of his head. "You must be that Lee kid people were talking about." He bounced a little on his haunches. "You do realize that side kicks aren't going to make Snape's potions class any easier."
But Lee didn't miss a beat. "In order to improve one's mind, one must first train their body. And yes, I am Rock Lee."
"Thought so. You're kind of infamous already." Fred grinned as he watched the boy continue to train. "Hey. What number were you on?"
Lee stopped, lowering his leg as he turned slowly to face the elder. "I lost count," he said dejectedly.
"500 push-ups, wasn't it?"
Lee nodded resolutely, but as he started to lower himself to the ground Fred tapped him on the shoulder. "I think," he said secretively, "I can come up with something a little more effective for your training."
Some minutes later the pair was standing just before the Whomping Willow. Fred had his hands on his hips, looking quite proud of himself, while Lee was merely dubious. "This," Fred introduced grandly, "is the Whomping Willow. You've been warned to stay away from it—and why? Because it is a fearsome protector of the school grounds for decades."
"Protector?" Lee echoed, his puzzlement beginning to melt into awe.
"That's right!" Fred heartily assured. "I'd say, oh, 200 laps around Whomping Willow ought to get you in shape."
Lee's expression hardened as his fists clenched in determination. "200 laps around the Whomping Willow," he repeated. "If I can't do it—"
"Leave that to me," Fred interrupted. "I'll think of something."
Some minutes later Fred and Lee were in the main hall, having just returned from Madam Pomfrey's with lotion for Lee's many bruises and welts. They'd attracted the attention of quite a few students, who were gathering around as Fred laid out his latest plan for Lee's training.
"These," he explained, tugging several very large sacks out of his robes, "are Bertie Bots' Every Flavor Beans. They range from strawberry to urine. If you can eat 70 of these beans, I think we can all consider that shining proof of your determination and tenacity."
Lee glared down at the sacks that contained what were to be his new opponents. All around him the students were cheering and egging him on. "70 of Bernie Bots' Every Flavor Beans," he said to himself. "If I can't do that—"
"You let me handle that," Fred interrupted with a wink.
Some minutes later Fred and Lee, after another trip to Madam Pomfrey's and accompanied by a group of students who'd followed them from the hall, were sneaking into Professor Lupin's classroom. They quickly unearthed a large trunk and dragged it to the center of the room with warnings for their onlookers.
"These," Fred began anew, "are Blue Pixies. Nasty little devils—very fast. If you can catch 30 of these little brats, that'd make you just about the fastest, most clever wizard I ever saw."
Lee, holding his aching stomach, gulped. "30...Blue Pixies," he repeated, amidst the calls from their crowd. "If I can't do that—"
"Ah ah ah. I'm the trainer here, right?"
Some minutes later Fred, Lee, and a parade of at least twenty other students were creeping into the dungeons. Or rather, Fred was dragging a bruised, battered, aching, nauseous, and utterly exhausted Lee down the spiral staircases to Snape's potions classroom.
"This," Fred told him in a whisper, "is Professor Snape's room—the terror of Hogwarts. I heard he was having a student for detention but they should be finished by now. If you can sneak through the classroom, into his office, and steal the porcelain tea cup from his desk, that will make you the absolute King of Hogwarts."
All around, the students buzzed excitedly.
Lee took a deep breath to steel his nerves. "Steal a porcelain tea cup from Professor Snape's desk," he repeated.
Fred waited a moment, and when nothing else followed, he questioned, "If you can't do it...?"
Lee shook his head resolutely. "No—this time, I have to do it!"
Some seconds later Lee emerged from the classroom, his face deathly pale and gait rigid. He met Fred's gaze with a look of shock and horror in his wide, dark eyes. "I couldn't do it," he said weakly. And then he passed out on the dungeon floor, surrounded by many curious stares.
"Hey, Fred," George greeted as he slipped through the murmuring crowd. "Have you seen Ron? Harry was looking for him earlier." He paused at the sight of the unconscious boy. "What happened to him?"
Fred shrugged. "Dunno," he admitted. "But I'm sure as hell not going in there."