To their grins, Hermione intrepidly replied, "And what if I were to say that I have no interest in hearing whatever proposition you have in mind?"
"It's common courtesy to listen to a proposal before making solid decisions, Granger," Fred mockingly chastised. "You may live among Muggles, but we're certain that even they have a fair understanding of manners."
At that condescending comment, Hermione etched her nastiest sneer into her features. "Why, yes. We Muggle-world denizens bear a sterling sense of courtesy. Please…don't let a Neanderthal like me cloud your judgment on us."
Instead of appearing shocked by her vehement response, the brothers both looked as though they could've burst out laughing. This only incensed Hermione further. The brothers hastily regained their foreboding composure when she wheeled around and prepared to storm off down the corridor.
"Our brother tells us that you know more than a thing or two about the wizarding world despite being new to it," George said. "Point in fact…he even referred to you as an 'insufferable know-it-all' in that very context."
"You're doing a marvelous job of making me want to stay and hear you out, I must say," she sardonically said as she folded her arms.
"Okay, okay. We happen to have a particular interest in having an insufferable know-it-all to consult," George replied. "Slytherins have an inherent eye for potential assets, and a first year that knows more things than most can be promising for the goals we have in mind."
"What exactly is it you both want with me?"
Fred's eyes became pondering for a silent second. "Trick us."
"What…?"
"Trick us using that 'insufferable' knowledge of yours. Ask us any question you want. If we answer wrong, you can go about your merry business. If we answer correctly, you have to hear out our offer later in the common room."
George's expression was compliant with his brother's conditions.
These twins certainly were bold to lay down the rules of a game that would determine whether or not she would aid whatever ambitions they had under their belts! But…if it made her leave faster…
"Alright then…What is the original title for a witch or wizard born to Muggle parents?"
The brothers knew there had to be some kind of sleight hidden within Hermione's simple question; they had just addressed her as the very title associated with those of her blood but moments ago. The brothers just assumed that the girl was probably trying to get them to say Mudblood – but they were neither idiots nor supremacists.
"Muggle-born," they answered simultaneously.
Hermione grinned arrogantly. "Wrong."
The brothers stared at her – and she quietly admired their perplexed expressions the same way an artist admires her most stunning painting.
"What are you on about?" George demanded. "That's exactly what they're called!"
The little girl giggled. The tables were obviously turned now: the twins being confused and perturbed while Hermione savored their dismay.
"You didn't listen closely enough to my question did you? I asked you to tell me the original title for a witch or wizard born to Muggle parents: Magbobs. The seventeenth-century term originally given to those of no magical heritage. The term was a play on how magical abilities just seemed to 'bob' out of nowhere in Muggle communities. Muggle-born wasn't conceived or acknowledged as a title until decades later. It pays to pick up a book, dear twins."
Their jaws dropped at having actually been tricked by her. Hermione could tell from their perspicuous shock that they had planned to be successful in their little game and things had not gone according to plan.
Hermione turned her back on the twins. "But if you were willing to seek me out…you must have something quite requiring of my help. So you have my curiosity. After classes conclude today, find me in the common room. I'll be waiting for you both. Oh…and if you're critical of my answer…the information is in the book Ancient Wizarding Society. I believe there are copies of it in the library."
She left the upperclassmen stunned in her wake. She would have just abided the terms of their game and left them and their unheard proposal forgotten, but she felt she now owed the twins something. What could an eleven-year-old girl have owed two twins she'd known for but a moment out of her entire life? By being the victims of her craftiness, they'd neutralized a great deal of her uncertainty at being in their House.
As Hermione walked back to Snape's class, she actually felt more like a Slytherin.