It was a long morning for Fred and George. First they endured an hour of History of Magic, easily the dullest subject taught at Hogwarts. Their second class, Muggle Studies, which Fred and George usually quite enjoyed, seemed to drag. They were not alone in their restlessness, however, as the entire class seemed to be having trouble focusing on the intricacies of muggle plumbing after the long summer break. Ultimately, Professor Burbage allowed the students to spend the latter half of their class time revisiting the muggle pastime of origami. The twins sat together at the back of the classroom, George enchanting various paper animals to fly and scamper throughout the classroom while Fred busied himself with producing a paper fortune teller. When he was finished, he presented his creation to George.

"Probably about as accurate as the Divination professor, from what I hear," Fred said. "Care to take your chances?"

"Is it 'taking a chance' if it's ordained?"

"All right, want to take all the mystery out of life, then? I've got all the answers right here, and it's Quidditch themed."

"Sure, why not? Let's start with… the Quaffle."

Fred dutifully manned the fortune teller until George landed on his ultimate destiny. "'We can never improve things by believing in each other, we can just improve things by tricking each other,'" Fred read the fortune aloud.

"What kind of fortune is that?"

Fred shrugged. "Don't look at me; I didn't write it. Seems true enough, though, doesn't it?"

George grabbed the fortune teller out of Fred's hand. "It's enchanted?"

"It's a pretty simple charm to randomize the results. You can ask it questions too, but don't expect the answers to make any sense. It's my turn now." Fred pondered the choices. "I'll take Cleansweep."

Fred and George whiled away Muggle Studies asking the fortune teller questions only to receive outlandish or vague answers in reply. Fred asked it where Sirius Black was hiding and it responded with, "Probably under your bed. Go look." George asked it if they were going to win the Quidditch Cup that year and it claimed, "If you are winning, remember that you will always lose in the end."

"Someone should tell Wood, before he spends another year driving himself crazy," said Fred.

"Are you joking? If he were here, this alone would be enough to drive him over the edge."

"Honestly, what is that man going to be like in a few years?"

"I suppose we can find out…"

Fred consulted the fortune teller. "It says, '"The future" is just another word for "grave."' You know, this thing turned out to be a lot more morbid than I intended."

"Well… it's not wrong," George commented fairly. "You know, we should make more of these. I bet loads of Hogwarts students would like playing with these muggle 'fortune tellers'; they're entertaining enough."

"Yeah, and we can give them all different themes! We can make ones that just insult you, or—"

"—or ones just for questions about romance; I bet witches would love that."

Fred smirked. "Yeah, sure. The witches would love it."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," Fred spoke innocently. "Do you want to ask anything else?"

"This is about Rook, isn't it?"

"You brought her up, not me."

"Why would I care what a puerile paper prognosticator says about Rook?"

"You want to ask, though, don't you? Go on, I promise I won't make fun."

George scoffed with disbelief.

"All right, if you won't ask it, I will. Does Rook fancy George, oh all-knowing one?" Fred lifted a random flap, without bothering with the other steps, to read, "'Love is like chess: always think three moves ahead.' Well, there you have it. What's your move?"

"My move is making more of these and seeing if we can't sell them to a few first years."

Fred shrugged. "Have it your way." He picked up another square of paper and began folding. "I think I'll make this one cheese themed…"

Fred and George only managed to make two more fortune tellers before they were dismissed by Professor Burbage. They rushed out of the classroom in order to intercept Rook on her way to the Great Hall for lunch. She was so slow leaving Arithmancy that the twins managed to head her off mere feet from the classroom.

"So? How was it?"

"Do you like your classes so far?"

"Did you see the look on Malfoy's face?"

"Did you have any lessons with the Slytherins?"

Rook stared blankly at them as though she had forgotten not only who they were, but where she was and how she got there. Fred leaned over to George and whispered loudly out of the corner of his mouth, "I think Professor Vector broke her."

Rook jumped slightly and looked around, nearly tripping over her feet in the process.

"Whoa, Rook," George said, throwing out a hand to steady her. "Careful!"

"Was Arithmancy that bad?"

"Bad? No, it was great! I mean, it was fun. I liked it?"

"Here, let's go down to the Great Hall," said George, gently guiding Rook along the corridor. "You seem like you could use some fortification."

Rook stumbled. "Yes… forty… That's as many as four tens…"

"No more all-nighters for you, Rook. You're clearly suffering from intense brain-fry."

"Fries… Don't y'all call them 'chips'?"

Rook seemed to regain her composure as they walked, and by the time they entered the Great Hall, she was acting almost like a human being.

"So, how did your classes go?" she asked them curiously. Fred and George presented their product to Rook, who reacted enthusiastically.

"Oh, I love these! None of the kids who knew how to make them would ever show me how!"

"And why would they? These are a commodity!"

Rook laughed. "Maybe in muggle elementary schools, but do you really think teenagers with access to actual fortune telling would care? Ooh, this one is cheese themed!"

George handed the fortune teller over to Rook as they took their seats at the Gryffindor table. She started with Red Leicester and ended on Venezuelan Beaver Cheese and counted the movements by syllable.

"'My heart is like Swiss cheese without you—full of holes,'" Rook read. "That is… really cheesy."

"George made that for you," Fred lied. "He says you look real gouda—ow!"

George had stepped on Fred's foot under the table.

Rook smiled at George. "It's really funny! I love it!"

George blushed and busied himself with his stew. Fred drank his pumpkin juice and watched as Rook continued playing. He felt irritated again, in spite of himself. Rook genuinely seemed to love the enchanted muggle game, almost too much. What was the big deal? It had taken him maybe ten minutes to make.

She probably does fancy him, he thought. If she knew I made it, she probably wouldn't like it half as much.

Rook look up at him and he quickly redirected his gaze to elsewhere around the Great Hall. He hadn't noticed before, but certain of the Slytherins were looking in their direction, including a third year girl with a dog-like face staring daggers at Rook, who seemed blissfully unaware. At least until she followed Fred's gaze to the Slytherin table herself. Fred watched Rook, thinking she might walk over there to tell them off again, but Rook only looked back at him, catching his eye this time and smiling. Fred grinned back before he could stop himself.