March 19th
I've just made an incredibly discovery: Students like me have very little time for journals.
Not that I haven't been making such a sincere and honest effort, diligently working so I have time to record the chronological memoirs of my existence, but there's just not enough TIME.
Now don't get the wrong idea—it's not N.E.W.T. preparation that's keeping me busy. It's preparation for the world outside of Hogwarts, specifically ninety-three Diagon Alley, and its future owners.
George and I have been spending every moment we can spare to work on more things for Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, and I have to say—although I'm not going to divulge the sheer brilliance as of yet—that we've done some absolutely smashing work. But that I'll save for better times, when I can give a firsthand account of what the product experience is truly like.
Meanwhile, the D.A.'s also been keeping us busy. That is, until the day before yesterday, a day in which the entire future of Hogwarts as we know it was destroyed in one fell swoop. Umbridge found out about the D.A.
It's all quite a blur, really. Here's the basic outline: Dobby, that elf from the kitchens, came shooting into the room to tell us Umbridge was on her way. We had about five minutes to scatter and find some sort of refuge, then make it look as if we hadn't been sprinting for our lives and had just been studying or walking through the corridors.
Needless to say, it wasn't quite foolproof. A lot of people got caught, Harry among them. I made it back to the common room, along with George, Lee, and the girls. We stayed around and awake long enough to receive Harry when he came back, and hear him issue the announcement that Albus Dumbledore is no longer at Hogwarts.
Actually, by the looks of it, he's not really anywhere.
He's run off, disappeared, gone into hiding, no doubt plotting some mind-boggling scheme to fix this whole mess, but meanwhile the school is now under the administration and control of Ms Dolores Umbridge.
I for one hope Dumbledore really is out there with a plan to set things right. But as long as he's not doing anything, George and I are thinking of taking this whole situation into our own hands. We've only just mentioned it or talked about it briefly before now, but I think we're going to go through with something. Something massive. Something that'll go down in Hogwarts history, and if not that, at least give everyone a good laugh and a free afternoon. Hogwarts isn't the same school it was two days ago.
Why not make that an advantage?
March 20th – Lunch
What a fun morning.
I'm not even being sarcastic, really! It was actually a fun morning! Granted it started out with the notice that "Dolores Jane Umbridge (High Inquisitor) has replaced Albus Dumbledore as Head of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry", but that could only work in our favor now that George and I don't care about the system. But it turns out Madam Toadstools has created her own personal cult for students. She calls it the Inquisitorial Squad; the rest of us call it Slytherin groupies.
The Slytherins are now Umbridge's pawns, docking points and telling off students whether they're trying to blow up the castle or just cursing Umbridge (the latter is impossible to prevent). George and I had a bit of a problem with this during break.
"Weasley twins!" shouted a voice behind us as we walked along the first floor corridor. We turned around.
"Montague," sneered George. "Lost again? We've told you already, the troll colony is eastern Scotland."
The surprise is that Montague understood it, or at least, he pretended to. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to dock house points from you two," he said, smirking with satisfaction.
"Are you now?" I asked. "I wouldn't advise that. It'll make you late."
"For what?" said Montague, back to his usual level of intelligence.
"Wherever you end up," said George, and with that we each grabbed one of Montague's arms and steered him toward the empty classroom at the end of the corridor. Well, empty to most, but to those of us who know the castle a bit better…
"Thvanshengcabunt!" squawked Montague, his voice muffled due to the fact that his arm was covering his face.
"That's right, son," chuckled George.
"The Vanishing Cabinet," I grinned.
"Have a nice time, then."
"Send us a postcard from wherever it is you end up."
And then we stuffed him into the cabinet and closed the doors.
Apparently he's not the only one out and about either. The Inquisitorial Squad are doing all they can to make themselves known. We met Ron and Co. down by the hourglasses where they were looking utterly woebegone as we lost points.
"Noticed, have you?" I asked as we reached them.
"Malfoy just docked us all about fifty points," Harry said, sounding nothing short of enraged.
"Yeah, Montague tried to do us during break," George said.
"What do you mean, 'tried'?" Ron asked suspiciously.
"He never managed to get all the words out," I answered, "Due to the fact that we forced him headfirst into that Vanishing Cabinet on the first floor."
What? I'm proud!
"But you'll get into terrible trouble!" said a gobsmacked Hermione.
"Not until Montague reappears, and that could take weeks, I dunno where we sent him," I pointed out. "Anyway…we've decided we don't care about getting into trouble anymore."
"Have you ever?"
"'Course we have," said George. "Never been expelled, have we?"
"We've always known where to draw the line,"
"We might have put a toe across it occasionally,"
"But we've always stopped short of causing real mayhem,"
"But now?" asked Ron. (Clearly on tenterhooks)
"Well, now—" began George.
"—what with Dumbledore gone—" I said.
"—we reckon a bit of mayhem—"
"—is exactly what our dear new Head deserves," I finished.
"You mustn't!" hissed Hermione. "You really mustn't! She'd love a reason to expel you!"
"You don't get it, Hermione, do you?" I said with a smile. "We don't care about staying anymore. We'd walk out right now if we weren't determined to do our bit for Dumbledore first. So anyway, phase one is about to begin. I'd get in the Great Hall for lunch if I were you, that way the teachers will see you can't have had anything to do with it."
"Anything to do with what?" asked Hermione, sounding quite nervous now.
"You'll see," said George. "Run along, now."
As of now, we're hidden behind a tapestry, waiting to begin. Lee's going to tell us when it's clear before he bolts. We wanted to include him, and we are, but we don't want to not finish his school just because of us. He would disagree, if it weren't for the fact that his parents would probably disembowel him if they heard he'd run off with the Weasley twins because there was a new Head.
Oops, time to go. Lee's just given us the signal…
Still March 20th – Bed
I do believe this was one of the best days I have had at Hogwarts. Actually, it was the single most amazing day I've ever had at this school.
Once again, I'll be kind enough to record the events in order.
After Lee gave us the signal, George and tiptoed out from the room behind the tapestry and levitated the tapestry so it wouldn't get in our way. Then we went back through the door, holding it open. Once the two of us were inside we grabbed about ten crates labeled "WHIZZLY" (for no apparent reason; we just figured it was our own way of saying "CAUTION: INSANE FIREWORKS WITHIN) and dragged them out into the center of the corridor.
"Ready Fred?"
"Ready George."
"Incendio!"
I don't really know what we'd expected when we lit them. I mean, being dazzling fireworks that last for hours on end, we weren't really able to test them much. We ran tests on some small samples, and they did fine, but since we'd never seen the real Whiz-Bangs at work, we were utterly unprepared for what happened next.
BOOM!
For about a half a second, everything went white. I thought I'd gone blind…except…it was white, not black. When the white disappeared, I could see shapes moving around through the blotches impairing my vision. Soon enough I could see our enormous sparks, dragons, and Catherine wheels whizzing and flying around like mad. Stars bounced off suits of armor and shot past me and George (who insists one burnt his ear) and the sparklers—which we've never even tested—began scrawling curses in the air while firecrackers exploded and spewed out more blazing pinwheels than before.
I am a professional developer of these products. Do not try this imagery at home.
Anyway, it was definitely rather…spectacular, as I've managed to convey, but George and I didn't get to watch for long. About one minute after the Big Boom, we heard Umbridge's voice along with the all-too familiar tones of Filch coming toward us. George was still gazing open-mouthed at the fireworks; I had to yank his elbow to make him move, and then we went back to the door behind the tapestry.
"Hurry, Filch, hurry!" Umbridge was screeching. "They'll be al over the school unless we do something—Stupefy!"
There was another flash of light (though not nearly as blinding as the first) as the rocket she'd aimed her spell at exploded, blasting a hole in a nearby painting. This was about when I let out my first snort, George echoing.
"Don't' Stun them, Filch!" the toad shrieked.
"Right you are, Headmistress!" wheezed our dear friend, and I call him dear because of what he did next: Filch ran to the cupboard, seized a broom, and began trying to bash the fireworks in with it. Needless to say, this did nothing but antagonize our brilliant creations, as they set the broom on fire. At least, I think they did. My vision was blurred by tears by this time.
The door opened a moment later, and Harry slipped in.
"Impressive," he whispered with a grin. "Very impressive…You'll put Dr. Filibuster out of business, no problem…"
"Cheers," George said. "Oh, I hope she tries Vanishing them next…They multiply by ten every time you try…"
As George and I walked into Charms that afternoon, we were greeted by cheers and applause. Not that it hasn't happened before, but we're used to that in the Common Room after Quidditch or something, not just in the middle of class. Even little Flitwick was beaming at us, though he caught himself quickly and started the lesson. But of course, there was no lesson; our fireworks were still running rampant throughout the school, and no one but the Headmistress could be trusted to get rid of them. We basically had a free period because Flitwick said that "It would be impossible for you lot to learn anything with these fireworks distracting you…we'll just have to wait for the Headmistress to be available to come and rid us of them!"
That man deserves more credit.
Anyway, it was during this miniature party that Angelina approached me (George was across the room taking early orders). I was a bit nervous when I saw her; we haven't spoken since she broke up with Andrew, well, not alone really.
"Congratulations," she said after an awkward silence. "These fireworks are brilliant."
Relieved, I answered "We just added and subtracted a few ingredients from what we think Filibuster may be using. After that it was just a few more tweakings of our own to make them more original…more—" I glanced at the Catherine wheel spinning past us. "—fun."
Ang grinned. "I don't mean the fireworks themselves," she said. "I mean what you did with them. I mean, it's Umbridge's first day as Headmistress and she's just been running around cleaning up fireworks, getting soot-faced, or being cursed at by sparklers. You two've started a sort of…rebellion, I suppose, against her and the Ministry. And by the looks of it, you've also started a business…am I right?"
I nodded sheepishly. "Base sent us the papers for the shop and the apartment last week. Then it's a bit more sorting, a lot of transporting, and interviewing potential employees before we're in business."
"Brilliant," she said. "Let me know when you open. I want to buy something for And—"
She stopped herself before she finished the word, but it was impossibly to mistake what she'd meant to say. Andrew. Angelina misses Andrew. At least, I think that's what it means, but I'm willing to bet that I'm right (besides, after this firecracker business I've got money to spare on betting!). I should probably be feeling bad, since I did break them up, but he was with another girl! What was I supposed to do, research? Andrew. With. Other. Girl. It spoke for itself. I was just doing what was best for Angelina, that's all.
Or maybe she was going to say "for and then let you try to catch the fever" just to confuse me, but stopped when she realized she wouldn't make any sense. Yes, I decidedly prefer this option.
Seeing as Trish was ordering fireworks (!), Angelina just went and sat at her desk, writing in her journal. Hmmm…her journal…I bet her journal knows how she's feeling about this whole Andrew thing. I could always take a peek and find something out, couldn't I? I mean, it's not as if I want to read all of it or anything, I just want to read the last couple weeks' worth of entries. It won't be hard to get to, either...Angelina has Quidditch three times a week…
Weasleys' Wildfire Whiz-Bangs
Basic Blaze box
Alicia Spinnet
Trish Stimpson
Seamus Finnigan
Romilda Vane
Kenneth Towler
Katie Bell
Noah Corfield
Jack Sloper
Lavender Brown
Neville Longbottom
Hermione Granger
Deflagration Deluxe
Colin Creevey
Dennis Creevey
Dean Thomas
Andrew Kirke
Parvati Patil
Lee Jordan
More orders in George's journal.
Authors' Note: This fic is winding down to the very last...only a few more chapters and then it is so long. However, we are planning to write a non fanfiction work together, which you can ask us for more info about if you'll miss us that horrifically (and we know you will)!