Harry Potter found his Thursday filled with potions. But not the bubbling, roiling ones in his "secret" lab (It was an open question how secret a lab could be, if you didn't really know any concealing spells more complicated than NoticeMeNot).
No, he was making spelling mistakes, ink blotches (okay, so most of those weren't intentional), and otherwise making a poorly written, bollixed up mess of an assignment to turn in. He didn't want to look any different from the rest of the Gryffindors, after all, and they'd all been sliding in class, goofing off outside of it. Well, Harry felt he was a decent mimic, and if this was what everyone else was doing, well, he wanted to blend in.
He'd seen what happened to Hermione Granger, after all - the Gryffindor who was brave to the point of being mildly crazy.*
After he was done goofing off with the assignment (He knew he could have answered everything perfectly, but that was Ravenclaw conduct, and sure to raise some eyebrows in a Gryffindor, who were widely supposed to be affable and a mite bit dumb.), he strolled over to the Weasley Twins, and said, "I've got a proposition for you."
"We'll listen, but not here." One of the twins said, glancing with some chagrin at Percy, who was sitting not terribly far away. "Try right by the kitchens, at 7 tommorrow."
"I'll - " Harry stopped mid word, saying "But, where's the kitchens?!"
The twins smirked, saying, "Okay, then we'll grab you. Head for the dungeons, and we'll show you the way." And, both because this was Forge and Gred, and because he did really need their help, he nodded. Why couldn't they have just told him where to meet them?
Because they thrived on chaos and misery, that's why. Hm. that line had potential. Pity he wasn't a Slytherin that could use it. Maybe he could sell it to someone not named Malfoy.
Harry stood, whistling a little as he headed for the door, only to have Ron tag along, like a faithful pet. "Where're we going?" Ron asked, as if unaware of what a pest he was being. Still, Harry supposed you could hardly hate a dog for palling around after you if you had never bothered to try and get it to quit.
*Harry! You're one to talk! Private to the point of paranoia, anyone?
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