One of the best things about his father owning the biggest joke-shop in the country was that Fred got to do a lot of market research. Like, a lot. As he read the letter from home, a smile broke out across his face.
"Look at this," he said, handing the letter to James, who sat next to him. As James read it, he threw the paper off the package and pulled out the cardboard box. It was labelled in large, orange letters: 'OPEN WITH CARE. DO NOT DROP.' He pulled it off the table and tucked it under the bench he sat on. He and James were in the Great Hall for breakfast, and had plonked themselves in their usual spots, right in the middle of the long Gryffindor table. Owls flew overhead, heading back to the Owlery after successful deliveries, or else out into the world once more with hastily scribbled messages tied to their legs.
"Brilliant," James said, giving him back the letter. Fred tucked it into the pocket of his robes and grabbed another piece of toast. "Anything in the road today?" Fred drummed his fingers against his forehead.
"Only Defence," he said. "I'll take some of whatever it is along, Dad said it's Christmassy so I'll get away with it.
"Get on with it, then, mate, you've only got twenty minutes," Aidan Wood chimed in, waving a spoonful of porridge around. Fred shrugged.
"Doesn't matter too much if I'm late," he said. "Our real exams aren't for six months or whatever." Aidan squinted one eye.
"Don't say that in front of the teachers," he said.
"Yeah, they'll have your head if you dare to suggest that maybe the end-of-term exams are a load of hippogriff shit," James agreed. Fred laughed. He polished off his breakfast, stood up, and grabbed the box.
"I'm off," he said. "I'll figure out what our entertainment is for the next week." The boys waved him up, and he made his way up to Gryffindor Tower. By the third floor, his arms were giving him crap, so he got a Hover Charm working, and guided the box up the stairs in front of him.
"Move out of the way!" he shouted merrily. "Very important delivery coming through!" He reached the portrait of the Fat Lady. She was rather busy patting her beetroot-red face with a green cloth. He bumped the box against her frame. She gasped and dropped the cloth at what.
"What do you want?" she asked.
"Morning," he said, flashing her a winning smile. She picked up her cloth and glared at him coldly. "C'mon," he said. "Don't be like that."
"Password," she sniffed. She'd not liked him since he and James set her on fire – but it had been an accident, honestly. Fred straightened up and couldn't help but smirk as he said the password.
"Seamen," he said. The Fat Lady giggled and her portrait swung out. Reportedly, she had a great love for seamen and scallywags, sailors and captains alike. When the password had been given out, Fred nearly busted a lung. The house prefects pursed their lips and gave him very disapproving looks. Rose admonished him for having a gutter-soaked mind. He'd responded that at least his brain wasn't like the Fat Lady, and soaked in thoughts of seamen.
She'd given him detention. Very unfair, he thought, given that he was her older cousin and therefore ought to have seniority. Besides, since when could prefects even give detention? But she had all the teachers on her side. If they weren't careful, they'd have another Molly on their hands.
The horror.
The common room was pretty empty – no surprise – but he walked up the stairs to his dorm anyway. He didn't need some rubber-neck spoiling the latest batch of goods. Fred always had at least ten sales strategies rattling around in his half-empty noggin, and none of them involved some random seeing him open a box. Carrying a box, with a mischievous smile on his face? Yes. Definitely. In fact, he was disappointed there wasn't an audience to watch him run up the stairs. But he'd work around it.
He shut the door behind him and put the box down on his bed. Their room, as usual, looked as if someone had set off a dungbomb in it – because someone had (James, the night before). Gryffindor scarves hung over the ends of beds, and trampled robes sprawled on the floor. Fred grabbed a quill and textbook off his bed, chucked it at James', and sat in the now-clear spot. He tapped the box twice with his wand, and then pulled at the spellotape. The box fell open. Inside were four large, clear bags filled with candy canes. There were three varieties; the red-and-white ones took up two bags, while green-and-white and pink-and-white took one each. Fred considered the bags and opened the first. From it, he withdrew a long red-and-white candy cane. He turned it over in his hands. He pinched it between his fingers. Then, of course, he did the logical thing to do when you've been sent a joke item; he stuck it in his mouth. It tasted pleasantly peppermint-y. He sucked on it.
It took a moment. Patience was a virtue Fred was well-acquainted with. It started with a fizzle. A little crackling on his tongue, in his cheeks, in his teeth. At first, it was subtle enough that it might've been just the taste of the candy cane. Lots of popular wizarding sweets had a little extra sensation, just for fun. The tingling spread through his face, rattling up into his ears, hissing behind his eyes. He sucked once more.
Pop!
He looked down at his hands. Yes, it was as expected. He leapt off the bed and made for the mirror in the little adjoining bathroom, and confirmed it; perfect. Now for the part he thought was very clever – the part he wouldn't be explaining to anyone else. Fred went back to his bed, flipped open an issue of The Quidditch Times, and polished off the candy cane. He came away completely back to normal, albeit with a slightly fuller stomach and a more comprehensive knowledge of what Appleby's captain thought their chances were next season.
Also, an idea of how exactly he was going to do this thing.
Underneath the bags of candy canes, he found flattened, stripy boxes, each emblazoned with the Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes logo. One-by-one, he built them, filled them with candy canes, and closed the lid. At that point, he had about twenty-five minutes of Defence left. Perfect.
He emptied his bag onto his bed and stuffed it full of the candy cane boxes. Grunting under the weight, he left with only the candy canes and his wand in his pocket. He made it to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom in good time, and knocked on the door. Brielle Finnigan opened it for him, and narrowed her eyes.
"Weasley," she said, as if they hadn't had seven years' worth of classes together.
"Morning," he replied cheerfully. She skulked back to her desk. Professor Burrow, their teacher, stared at Fred, his hand frozen in a gesture towards the board. He raised his pale eyebrows.
"Weasley," he said, checking his watch, "you're almost forty minutes late to class. Again."
"Yeah, sorry," Fred said. Burrow covered his eyes with his hand.
"I don't understand why you chose to continue this subject to N.E.W.T level if you don't intend on showing up," he said. Fred passed the front row and headed down the central aisle of the classroom. Kieran McLaggen scooted over, and Fred joined him at his desk.
"Well, I had to take four subjects, sir. And my friends chose this one," he said. Burrow sighed.
"Right-o, Weasley. You'll face the consequences. For the rest of you, Abermonken's sketch, here, shows that he had been pierced by no less than twelve fangs..."
"Any good?" James whispered, leaning across the aisle. His brown eyes were bright. Fred glanced at Burrow, and then undid his bag and tossed James a box.
"Just have one," Fred said. James rifled through the box.
"What colour?"
"Whatever you want."
James chose the classic option – red-and-white – and popped it safely into his bulging cheek. Fred gave one of the green-and-white ones to Kieran.
"Thank you," Kieran said. "Is it a different flavour?"
"They all taste the same," Fred assured him. "I think." Kieran cautiously touched it to his tongue.
"Yep," he said. "Good that. I never liked all those weirdo flavours."
"You are the number one Bertie Botts' hater in the world. It makes sense."
"I do try to make sense."
"You're alone on that one," said Fred. At least in their dormitory, Kieran was the oddity. Fred stowed the boxes away and waited for the magic to happen. James devoured his candy cane with zest. "You'll choke yourself," Fred whispered, leaning out across the aisle. Burrow cleared his throat, shooting him a stern look from the front of the classroom. Fred straightened up. James shoved the candy cane as deep as he could into his throat. Brielle Finnigan glared at him from the row in front.
Pop!
You'd only hear it if you were the person it was happening to – or if you knew what to listen for, which Fred did. James' smooth, freckled skin abruptly turned red-and-white. Striped, like the sweet he had halfway down his gullet. Kieran paused, his own candy cane hanging out of his mouth, and stared.
"Is that what you've given me?" he asked quickly. Brielle dropped her quill. Burrow stopped his explanation of vampire attacks once more.
"Mr Potter?" he said. James could now fit the entire candy cane in his mouth, and so shoved it to one side of his cheek.
"Sir?"
"Would you care to explain, or can I just take a point?"
James scratched the back of his neck and squinted at the board. "Well, I'd guess that the charm he's talking about is Lumos, maybe with the Maxima added, because that would give him enough time to escape."
"Yes, but that wasn't what I meant. I was referring to your situation," Burrow said.
Next to Fred, Kieran arched his back like a cat.
"I don't want to go a funny colour," he hissed at Fred. "What's that crackling?"
"They're different, don't worry," Fred said, waving his hand. Kieran held the candy cane as far away from his body as possible.
"I'm getting rid of it," he said.
"No, mate, you don't want to do that, trust me," Fred said.
"Why not?"
"You'll see."
"My situation?" James continued.
"Did you perform the charm, or another student?" Burrow asked, one eyebrow high. James threw his stripy hands in the air.
"I haven't done anything. My wand's in my bag, I swear." Burrow's gaze slid from James to Fred.
"Weasley?"
"I'm a good boy," Fred grinned.
"What charm are you on about anyway?" James asked, leaning back in his chair. Brielle rolled her eyes, facing James rather than the board once more.
"You're stripy, Potter," she informed him.
"Oi," he said.
"You are," Fred said, reaching over and slapping him on the arm. James looked down. His mouth fell into a perfect 'o'.
"You bugger!" he cried, and launched out of his seat at Fred. Fred stood and caught his weight. The two of them slammed into the desk Fred and Kieran shared, and Fred ended up with his back flat across it. Quills went flying.
"You read the letter!" Fred reminded him.
"I look like a fucking elf!"
Pop! Kieran. Fred snuck a sidewards glance at him, and to his delight, found that Fred looked perfectly normal. Brielle, however, hollered and pointed.
"What in Godric's name is going on?" she demanded.
"I would also like to know!" Burrow shouted. "Boys, get off each other! Now!" Fred and James separated, skidding over the top of the desk.
"Sorry sir, we're just mucking about," said Fred.
"Except for this shit," James muttered, pointing at his arm.
"Come on, you two, this is how you behaved in second year. I expect more of you. Ten points from Gryffindor, and don't make me take anymore." Kieran and Brielle groaned. Fred and James retook their seats. Burrow went to kept teaching, but Brielle thrust her hand in the air.
"Sir, what about McLaggen?"
"What about McLaggen?" Burrow asked, slightly exasperated. "Look, there's – thirteen minutes of class left, if you'd like to finish this off in your own time, you're welcome to, and when it comes up on your N.E. , I'll just watch you all scratch your heads."
"Sir, he's the same as Potter!" Brielle said.
"Oi!" said James. Kieran frowned.
"I'm offended," he said quietly to Fred, folding his arms across his chest.
"Finnigan, I need to finish this class," Burrow said. "So, as we can see, he developed this hypothesis as a result of his experiences in Albania…"
"What about me?" Kieran whispered furiously. "I can't see anything wrong!" He did, indeed, look like the normal Kieran. To Fred, at least.
"Me neither," Fred grinned. Kieran narrowed his eyes, pressing his lips tight. The thing about Fred's dormmates was that they'd spent enough time with him to know that things were never straight-forward.
James, to Fred's delight, hadn't finished the candy cane yet. He was still going. He let Kieran bristle and fume and James loll back, basking in the strange looks others sent him. Fred toyed with the idea of putting the final piece in place; but hey, he didn't need to give everything away. The girls kept looking over their shoulders, and so the boys copied, though they couldn't tell what it was the girls were looking at. Fred pretended to take notes, and drew a giant candy cane with a face on it.
The clock ticked over. Professor Burrow breathed a sigh of relief.
"Get out, now, all of you, I can't stand you, really, yes, even you," Burrow said. He dropped his piece of chalk and flung the door open.
Fred seized the opportunity. He hurled Kieran up, grabbed James by the arm, and rushed to the front of the classroom. The boys goggled at James while the girls goggled at Kieran. Kieran wiped the corner of his mouth with his free hand.
"What've you done to me, Weasley?" he asked, self-consciously patting his hair. Fred grinned.
"Three different varieties! One everyone can see -" he indicated James, "- one only the ladies can see-" some of the girls giggled as he nodded his head to Kieran, who looked murderous. Kieran tried to pull his hand away, but Fred wrestled control, "- and one to make sure the blokes go ga-ga over you!"
"You're dead after this," Kieran whispered, the corner of his mouth twitching in a smile. Fred shrugged. He held James and Kieran's hands up, showing off the marking on their palms.
"Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes!" he announced proudly. "Available by owl order from now until December 26th! Five sickles for one or two galleons for a box!" James still had the candy cane in his mouth, and he finished it with a gulp. Fred looked at him. Pop! James returned to his normal shade. He examined his hands.
"Nice," said James.
"Get out of my classroom," said Burrow.
"Order now!" said Fred.
You could count on him to get people talking.
