Chapter 1
"Come on, George, we need to be back before one of the professors catches us here," Fred hissed, while carrying bottles of Butterbeer and bags filled with Chocoballs and Acid Pops.
They had won the Quidditch game against Ravenclaw after Harry had cast a Patronus on Marcus Flint and his cronies. It had been brilliant. The whole Gryffindor Tower celebrated as if they had already conquered the cup. Even Hermione Granger, who had taken an absurd number of subjects for a third-year student and did nothing but study, had accepted a Butterbeer.
But better, Gryffindor would be playing the finale against Slytherin. Something that George had looked forward to.
May couldn't come fast enough.
Around midnight, Fred and George had snuck out to get some fresh supplies. But in their haste, the statue of the One-Eyed Witch had slid shut too quickly and Georges leg was stuck.
It was the worst timing. The fires in the corridor had sprung on and it was just a matter of time until Filch or Mrs Norris would show up.
"I cannot move, wait. I heard something." George stopped wrinkling his leg and held his breath.
Fred, too, remained silent. The twin cocked their ears.
At the end of the corridor stood Mrs Norris. She looked at them and then disappeared.
"I am done," George said in horror. "Fred, go, quick, before Filch comes. Take the candy and go back to the Tower."
Fred didn't allow himself to be told that twice. He grabbed the candy away from George and hurried out of the corridor.
George tried to wiggle free and finally, the statue gave way and let George's ankle go.
But it was too late.
"Well, well, what do we have here? One of the infamous Weasley Twins." As soon as George had scrambled to his feet and wiped the dust off his jumper, he looked straight into the warty face of Filch; the care-keeper of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry.
"Good night, Filch, you old Squib. How are the magic lessons coming by?"
"Shut up, you Weasel. Where's that hideous twin brother of yours?"
"I don't know. We're not attached from the hip, you see," said George, who put his hands in his pockets.
"Shut it. You're coming with me." Filch grabbed his ear and dragged him out of the corridor. "Sneaking around past midnight. Let's see what your Head of House will think about that, ay?" His voice cackled with genuine pleasure.
George sighed. He knew he was done. Staying up in the Gryffindor Tower was one thing, but wandering the corridors by night was another.
He was right.
McGonagall was furious. "Weasley! What are you doing up at this time of the night!" Her hairnet trembled ominously and she held the chequered nightgown close with her free hand.
"Partying, professor. It is not every day we are competing in the finale for the Quidditch Cup." George mustered a very charming smile. Behind his back, he crossed his fingers.
McGonagall heaved a deep sigh and looked at him over the edges of her crescent glasses. "How much I want to tell you that's true, I will not. For that cheek you will receive detention with me, Mr. Weasley. Tomorrow night, straight after dinner. I shall now escort you back to the Tower to make an end to that party. It's almost past one o'clock in the night!"
She didn't take any points and for that, George was grateful. It could have been much worse. She could have taken away the points they had won with their victory against Ravenclaw.
Behind her George limped up the stairs to the Gryffindor Tower. An evening of detention with McGonagall was not the worst. He got off cheaply for once.
Could that be because this time he was alone and not with his brother? That was a theory that required further testing.
Back in the Tower, McGonagall stormed at her student and sent everyone straight to bed.
"So, what did you get?" asked Fred when they stumbled to their dormitory. Behind them, Lee Jordan followed yawning.
"Just detention, tomorrow night. Nothing too bad. At least she didn't take any points from us."
"Thank Merlin, after all the points we have won today with the game. By the way, good one, to send the Bludger at Davies."
"Thanks, brother dearest." George popped down on his four-poster bed and took off his socks. Lee fell down on the bed and didn't bother to take off any clothes.
George rolled onto his side. He felt how the sleep came over him.
"George!"
"Whatta?" Two hands roughly shook him awake. It was as if he had been resting his head on his pillow for only a minute. Drowsy he opened his eyes.
"Sirius Black was in the Tower tonight. I can't believe you slept through it all. Ron screamed like a slaughtered pig."
George was immediately awake. Through the window he could see the sun streaming in. "What? Is Ron okay?"
"Ickle Ronnikins is fine. Black did cut the curtains of his four-poster bed to shreds, but apparently he started running when Ron was screaming his lungs out. The whole castle has been searched and you're the only one who slept through it all."
"What can I say, I was tired after winning the match. Are you sure Ron is fine?" asked George, while he wiped the sleep out of his eyes.
"Yes. He is already laying it on thick. Claiming that Black nearly slit his throat. I almost find myself wishing Black would have actually done it."
George grinned. "Did they find him?"
"No. Went up in smoke. But, we are getting the Fat Lady back tonight. Thank Black we're finally getting rid of Sir Cadogan."
George yawned and started searching for his clothes. Lee Jordan already left the tower.
"Come on, I want to go to breakfast. I am hungry. Stealing candy in the middle of the night and not getting the chance of eating it is not good for my system."
"I'm coming," muttered George, putting on his trousers and searching for the rest of his school uniform. "Listen, Fred. We have the OWLs this year, and our grades are going down. Are you still seriously considering opening a joke shop together?"
"Yes, of course. Why? Are you having second thoughts?" asked Fred sharply, who tied his tie.
"Well … I don't know. I think that we need to seriously think about our OWLs. For real. I mean, we probably need to get our papers and licences in order so we will be able to carry out experiments and sell them legally and stuff. I do not want to get into trouble with the Ministry and the Regularisation for even selling a Ton-Tongue Toffee. That would only give us a bad name." George put on his jumper.
Fred was slight taken aback. "You're right. I hadn't given it much thought, but you're absolutely right." He kept silent and chewed on the inside of his cheek.
"Do you know, I remember Percy saying something about career advice after the Easter holidays with McGonagall. Maybe we can talk to her with the idea."
George nodded slowly. He wasn't keen on talking with his Head of House about their ambitions, but what choice did they have? Talking about opening a joke shop with his mum? They didn't have a death wish.
"Come on. That's enough serious talk for today. Breakfast is waiting."
Down in the Great Hall students were already leaving for classes. Fred and George quickly sat down for some toast before they left to Potions.
"Late again, Weasley? Ten points from Gryffindor," sneered Snape. He closed the door of the dungeon after them.
George looked down on his watch. They were just one minute too late, but well. Best not to get into trouble with Snape. Not with the OWLs-exams only a few months away and when one of them needed to pass that exam. Bloody Snape.
Professor Snape only allowed his best students in his NEWT-class. That meant that one of them needed to pass for the OWLs-exam with at least an Outstanding. For the moment, their grades were not that wonderful. Fred had obtained an P for his essay about the properties of the Moonstone and its uses in Potion making and George had barely gotten an A for his Hair-Rising Potion.
They needed to step up their game.
While George shambled next to his brother to his place in the back of the Potions class, he made eye contact with two dark cedar brown eyes, taking him very carefully, as if he was a potion she had to dissect.
He almost missed a step and the big chestnut rose lips beneath those dark eyes curled into a smile. She threw her dark ebony hair behind her shoulder, which fell into loose waves till her waist. With her wand she started to twist her hair into a tight bun.
Eleanor Seymour. Slytherin's own duchess.
"Stop staring at pretty Slytherins," hissed his brother when he sat down in his familiar place.
"I didn't stare," hissed George back, but quickly hold his tongue when Snape shot them a warning look. He bowed his head and grabbed some parchment and a quill to copy the instructions for the potion they had to brew today.
"Today's potion will be a repetition of the brewing of the Draught of Peace. Who can tell me what happens when the brewer is too heavy-handed with the ingredients?"
George slowly raised his hand, but Snape ignored him. "Miss Seymour, please."
Slowly Eleanor Seymour raised from her seat. Now that she stood straight, George notices that her skirt was approximately three inches too short. Suddenly he got a very funny feeling in his stomach.
"Yes, professor Snape. The main purpose of the potion is to calm anxiety and soothe agitation. But, when the brewer is not consistent with his ingredients, just as you described, the drinker will be put in a heavy sleep. Sometimes the sleep will be irreversible."
"Very well, miss Seymour. Five points for Slytherin," purred Snape. His eyes wandered of the pupils, until they lingered on the Weasleys.
"Weasley, how many times do the potion need to be stirred?"
Fred nudged George. "Eh, seven times, professor."
"Which direction?"
George frowned his eyebrows and thought deeply. He knew this. Snape had explained it to him twice in the beginning of the school year, after calling him a dunderhead.
"First clockwise, seven times and then seven times counter-clockwise, sir."
Snape didn't say a word. His black eyes glittered and then he waved his wand.
"You dunderheads have exactly one hour to brew a perfectly distilled Draught of Peace. I only want to see silvery vapours and O's at the end of the lesson."
Fred and George silently went to work. While Fred was the best in the more practical classes such as Care of Magical Creatures, George had a knack for brewing potions.
But brewing a potion with Snape in the background lingering was not that helpful. This time, George read all the instructions very carefully and gave very clear tasks to his brother.
"Slowly add the powdered moonstone, Fred. I will stay stop. Slowly, little by little," muttered George. He could feel the glares of Snape, but was determined to keep his focus.
"Stop." George turned down the heat. "Go fetch the powdered porcupine quills. Make sure they are fresh and give them a little shake."
George didn't dare to take his eyes off the potions. He held his hand out for the little bottle and added a few sniffs. "Keep stirring, Fred."
The potion turned white, just as described in Snape's directions. George silently let his breath escape.
"We're almost there." With a wave of his wand he lowered the heat and took the bottle filled with hellebore. "Can you give me the pipette? This needs to be exact, or Snape will make the entire potion vanish."
With a shaky hand he added exactly seven drops and to his great relief, a silver haze rose up from the potion.
For the first time in a long time, George walked out of his Potions class with the feeling he might have just gotten an E for his Draught of Peace.
