Ch 2

Fifth year was turning out to be the best year ever for Fred Weasley. He got to plan pranks, play Quidditch, and work on Arithmancy. His new friend Hermione had even owled her parents and was letting him borrow some Calculus books until he could afford his own. He had spent the past month practicing Math calculations on every scrap of parchment he could find. Who knew Muggles could be so clever? And last night! Last night he finally worked up the gumption to try one of the derivatives on a particularly complex node. Not only had the equation reduced to a more manageable form, the variables had actually gained magic! So now he was sitting at their table in the library. He had erased the Tur'kor - again - and was working on doing everything with Calculus. He couldn't wait to tell Hermione.

He was muddling his way through a difficult calculation when he heard her voice, "Do you mind if I take a look?"

When did she get here? She was holding some piece of parchment. Probably some calculations, "Sure." He just needed a few more minutes.

"Fred?"

He hummed. Couldn't she see he was busy?

"What's your middle name?"

Maybe if he carried that and moved that over there. "Oh, it's Gideon."

"Fred Gideon Weasley." Yeah that's his name. Now to take- "Explain this." A piece of parchment was jammed on top of his Tur'kor. A familiar piece of parchment. He blinked.

"Uh." He finally looked at Hermione. Eyes narrowed. Check. Lips pursed. Check. She could almost pass for Mum. "It's my progress report?"

"Your progress report. Funny you should mention it. Do you see anything interesting with it?" She cocked her head to the side.

He looked at the parchment. "No?"

"No?" she asked sweetly. He probably should have given a different answer. "You have a P in Arithmancy! Not to mention the three D's!"

"But Arithmancy is so boring! Vector just started us on harmonies and she said we were going to stay there until the end of the year. There is no point." And really, there wasn't. Why should he waste his time on simple calculations when he had Calculus and his Tur'kor?

She sighed. He hated that she looked so disappointed in him. "Alright, why is Charms your highest grade then? I know you can cast excellent spells. Why do you only have an E and not an O?"

"Because," he scratched his eyebrow, not sure rather to tell her or not. "I don't do the homework?"

Narrowed eyes. Again. "None of it?"

"I can cast the spells just fine," he shrugged.

"And I suppose you don't do your History, Astronomy, or Runes homework either? Hence the Dreadful score in those classes?"

"No?"

"Is that a question or an answer?"

He wasn't getting out of this one, maybe she was worse than Mum. "No, I don't do my homework."

She was nibbling her lip now, "Fred, your parents send you to school so you can learn. And I'm not saying you aren't, because you are. But this," she waved her hand at his progress report, "makes you look stupid. And even though we know you are not, future employers won't know that."

Was that her problem? He brightened. "That won't matter! Don't tell Mum, or Perce, or Ron, or - well anyone really. But George and I are going to start up our own joke shop when we get out of school. It will be brilliant! Zonko's is mostly little gag gifts, see. But with George's potions and my spell work we will make a whole new type of prank shop! We won't need employers since we'll be our own boss!"

She stared at him for a so long he began to squirm. Was it a bad idea? Would it not work? "That sounds wonderful." Oh, good. "But where do you plan to get the money to start it up?"

"Well," he had no clue, "the goblins give out loans." Hopefully that sounded better than it did in his head.

She cocked her head, "To two Hogwarts graduates? One of whom had grades so bad he almost failed out?"

He flinched. They weren't that bad. Were they? He looked at the progress report. They were that bad. "What would you suggest?"

She was smiling a creepy little smile. "I'm so glad you asked." He got the feeling he had just been pranked. She was digging around in her book bag and pulled out a thin red book, "Here."

Embossed on the front in gold was Spellcraft: European Edition. "What's this?"

"I got curious about what you were doing with the Tur'kor, and why more spells don't get made."

"So you found a book," he smirked at her. Hermione could find a book on anything. Just last week he had commented on how he wished there was a spell to make toenails grow; five minutes later she brought him a book. Montague was still hobbling in his shoes.

"Yes," she was so cute when she blushed, "and it's fascinating really."

"I'm sure you're going to tell me all about it."

"Prat," she punched him lightly in the arm. Ouch. "Anyways, wizards - and witches - who are authorized to make spells are called Spellcrafters. They get paid - sometimes tens of thousands of gallons - for making spells. For as long as they are alive and for 100 years after they pass, they continue to profit every time their spells are cast."

Tens of thousands? That was enough to start their joke shop. That was- Dad only got 22,000 gallons a year at the Ministry, and he was a department head. It was a department for Muggles, but still. He rubbed the red cover of the book. He could still see the corner of his Tur'kor parchment from behind his progress report. Get paid for Arithmancy? "What do I need to do?"

"Well, you have to have a good grasp in Arithmancy and one wanded subject. Masteries."

He dropped the book. "No." Well there went that idea.

"Yes."

"Hermione I can't do that."

"Of course you can, you're absolutely brilliant. You just don't apply yourself because you are board and you have other things you would rather do. Like pranking. And mastery level Arithmancy." She bit her lip, "Well now I'm giving you a reason to want this. Fred, Spellcrafters have a guild. Only proven Spellcrafters are allowed in. Inside the guild they store the Tur'kor's of every deceased Spellcrafter. Every Tur'kor is spelled to travel there on the death of it's owner. The Tur'kor for the Levitation spell, the Patronus, Fiendfyre, and all the rest are setting in that guild. And as a Spellcrafter you would get to study them all. Think of the harmonies you could feel."

That. Was. Blackmail. Very good blackmail, actually. Every Tur'kor ever? An Arithmancy mastery wouldn't be so bad. And maybe Charms? He always liked Charms. It shouldn't be so hard. Was he seriously considering this? "It would be nice."

"Look, I'm not saying that it is okay to skip homework- because it is definitely not. But all you need to get a mastery is NEWT's in subjects pertaining to the field and have a clear body of work. Such as a Charms or an Arithmancy experiment. Your Tur'kor is already that for Arithmancy. So what you need to do is ace your OWL's, get into the NEWT classes and take those tests. That's it."

"You make it sound simple."

"It's not." She picked up the book and flipped to the very back. "This is a list of all the Spellcrafters in Europe for the last century. There are only twenty names, Fred. What you can do with a Tur'kor- your understanding of Arithmancy- that's real magic. It shouldn't be wasted."

He looked at the names embossed in the page. One in particular caught his eye:

Selene Pandora Lovegood- ENG - 16 - 1962-1989

He ran his finger over the inscription a few times. "What does that number, the sixteen represent?"

"Oh, well, once you have the masteries, then you have to present the guild with 10 complete spells in order to be admitted. After that you can complete more of your own spells or do spell commissions the guild has received. Selene there created 16 before she died, I wonder what happened to her?"

"One of her spells backfired." He still remembered the Burrow shaking. "The Lovegood's are our neighbors. George and I had just got home from second year. Mum yelled at us when she heard the explosion. We were grounded all day until Dad came home and asked Mum if she had heard the news."

She gasped, "How horrible."

"She has a daughter in Ginny's year. Ravenclaw, I think." He remembered Luna staring off into space the week afterwards. Mum had offered to watch her, hopping to comfort her. He thought being at the Burrow with their large family just reminded her of what she had lost.

"Well then, you just won't ever cast a spell until you are sure it's right. And even then, we will take proper safety procedures."

He turned to her, "Hermione, I-"

"No Fred. You have a talent to help the world. And to make some bloody amazing pranks. If you tell me right now that you don't want to do this at all then we won't. Otherwise, I'm going to make sure you do its safely."

He couldn't help but smile at her, "You are amazing."

She grinned back, "I know."

"Oh! I meant to show you the Tur'kor. You will never guess what I did last night." He closed the book - he would read it later - and moved his progress report to the side.

She shrieked, "Oh no! What happened to all your nodes?"

"Relax I just reset them. But I tried some Calculus last night!"

"Really, what happened?"

He knew she would be interested. "Well, first I wasn't sure if the nodes were going to resolve and then-"

…o0o…

It was a Saturday afternoon mid-way through March and Fred was exhausted. Calculus didn't apply to Arithmancy as easily as he once thought it would. Some of the nodes were especially stubborn about resolving in such conditions; they wouldn't harmonize correctly and their screeching gave him a constant headache. Add to that Wood had gone nuts about wining the Quidditch cup in their final game against Slytherin. They were wrapping up another Saturday morning practice after Fred had stayed up all night trying to detangle a node that wouldn't shut up because he had put it together the wrong way. He just wanted to go to bed.

As he was striping his gear George ran quickly past him, "Got a brew."

He nodded, "See ya."

"Later Fred," George opened the door and bolted. Fred chuckled. Nothing could keep George from his Potions. Lately he had been spending more time with them than ever. Fred didn't mind because George had Potions and he had his Arithmancy.

He headed into the nearest open shower and dropped his boxers. Almost everyone else was already out. He must really be tired. Maybe he should go take a nap after this. Nice soft sheets, warm cozy blanket-

"So Baby, what do you think?"

Startled, he turned to the right to see Angelina Johnson in- Look at her face! "A-Angelina." He squeaked.

"No need to be nervous, Fred," she chuckled, "It's just us, I checked."

Just us? She was looking for him? Looking like that? Wait, were those the size of apples? Quit looking! "I gotta go."

"Go?" She pouted, "But I just got here." He backed up against the wall to get away from her advances. "Besides, it certainly looks like you are interested. Don't you want a repeat of what we did last weekend?"

Last weekend? He was fairly sure he would remember that. Unless- He was going to kill George. Around them the water had stopped steaming; he needed to get this situation and his magic under control quick. "Look, Angie, not that I don't think you are stunningly beautiful, but I'm George."

She blanched, "George called you Fred when he left!"

He reached up to scratch his eyebrow, good thing she didn't know any of his tells. "We still do that all the time, call each other our own names to keep people confused. Even our Mum can't tell us apart. It's a prank, see?" But this was just plain ridiculous: pretending to be his brother so he wouldn't have to bugger the girl his brother had while pretending to be him.

She screeched, covered up her privates, and bolted out of the shower. He would laugh had he actually known this could happen. Right now he just wanted to scream. What had George been thinking? When he couldn't feel Angelina in the lockers anymore he stopped the shower and got dressed. He and his twin needed to have a long conversation.

It took him half the distance from the Quidditch pitch to the castle to locate George. He was always the easiest, since he spent the most time around him. Funny thing, though, he wasn't in the abandoned fourth four classroom he usually used for brewing. No, he was in a broom closet on the third floor. A long conversation, indeed.

As he stalked through the halls concentrating more on reigning in his aura and temper then paying any attention to the students jumping out of the way. What a very bad day.

When he got to the closet next to the bent armor, he didn't hesitate to wrench open the door. George was in a quite lewd compromising position with a fourth year Ravenclaw. He thought it was the seeker. Before the girl could protest, Fred reached into the closet and yanked George out with a mere, "Pardon us." He summoned George's shirt and shut the door back in Ravenclaw's face, because he really wasn't in the mood to deal with another of George's conquests so soon.

He stalked off in the direction of George's fourth floor potions lab, knowing his twin would follow. George and he got along really well most of the time, but George never forgot who was the stronger wizard. If there was any doubt right now Fred was sure his flaring aura would clear that right up.

Once the classroom door - and it didn't look like George had been brewing in weeks - was warded, Fred calmly asked, "Something you want to tell me?"

"So I went to go spend some quality time with Chang," George grumbled. "Do you mind telling me why this couldn't have waited till after I had had my fun?"

"You think this is about you ditching brewing for Chang? You buggered Angelina and told her it was me! She walked in on me in the showers today naked and-"

"Oh!" George wiggled his eyebrows, "Did you like it? Ange isn't so good for everything, but she has a great mouth."

Was he serious? "No, I didn't like it. Because I sent her away when I realized she thought I was someone else. Like you should have."

"What? Oh, seriously, Fred? It's all in good fun. She wanted a good time, I gave her one. If you're jealous you should have just-"

"I am not jealous." He grit his teeth when he felt his own magic rebounding of the walls. Get it together. "Angelina, Chang, how many girls are there George? We were taught better than that."

"By who?" George spat, "Mum can only be bothered to feed and discipline us. Dad is always at work or on call. They could care less about what we do as long as we don't embarrass them."

That was mostly true. But this was about George. "Percy told us-"

"Percy has abandoned us! He's always hanging around Clearwater like she's some kind of Veela. He wouldn't do that if he really cared."

"That's not true. He loves her. He's in a committed relationship with her. That's why he said it was better to wait for the person you love, because he knew. Percy wouldn't abandon us."

"Like you wouldn't?"

Fred felt as though he had been slapped, "What?"

"Oh, don't play coy with me. You've been disappearing since January. And when you are around you have got your nose stuck in more bloody books. What's so interesting anyways?"

How dare he turn this around on him? He grit his teeth, "I've been working on Arithmancy, trying to get funding for our shop. From the look of this room, though, I think it may just be my shop."

"Fine."

"Fine." he spat back.

George pulled his wand out, "Get the hell out of my potions lab!"

Was he mental? Fred could easily win any duel, "I never liked your putrid potions anyway!" He figured he should remind George who he was threatening, "And, George?"

"What?" George growled. The git actually growled at him!

"When you bugger the wrong bird and piss of her family, don't expect me to be your second."

"Whatever."

Knowing that George might come up to the dorm rooms, Fred went out to the lake instead. The pond at the Burrow had always been the best place to calm his magic. Something about water always soothed him.

He found a nice spot under an old evergreen and watched the giant squid make ripples in the lake. The ebb and flow of the waters magical tide seeped into his pores; it was like being wrapped in a warm blanket. Standing there his magic began to slowly imitate the same rhythm- in and out. In. Out. In. "Woof."

Startled, Fred looked to his right to find a dog. Sensing out it's magic confirmed his suspicions that it was, in fact, a Grimm. "Well this day can't get worse," he grumbled. There was only one large magical black dog in existence; seeing a Grimm outside their home always meant you or someone close to you was going to die. "Awful far from your graveyard aren't you, buddy?"

The Grimm proceeded to cock his head to the side pull his ears back and whine. Pathetic little sod trying to get pity for a bringer of death. Still, the thing looked like it had mange and hadn't eaten in weeks. Fred had half of a breakfast sandwich he had kipped from the kitchen on the way to practice this morning. Pulling the sandwich out he kneeled down on the ground, "I should have better sense."

It was now staring at his hand with singular intent. Fred was belatedly aware that at this height the Grimm and he were eye level. He wasn't even really sure what kind of magic the Grimm would have if it came down to a fight. Unwrapping the sandwich, he proceeded to hold it out, "Want some?"

When the animal proceeded to lunge for his hand with rows of gleaming teeth, Fred happily dropped the sandwich. It didn't seem to matter to the Grimm, though, who had caught the meal between his jaws and proceeded to scarf it down in seconds. When the Grimm finished and sat down on his haunches, Fred warily palmed his wand through his trousers. Dangerous didn't even begin to describe the situation. He couldn't see leading the Grimm into the school, and fighting it was decidedly stupid. So for lack of options he decided to talk to it and see if the thing got bored, "My brother Charlie brought one of you home one time. He found the Grimm at the Ottery graveyard he thought it would make the perfect pet." The Grimm let out a woof of excitement and wagged his tail. "I know. Anyways, I was maybe four. When Charlie brought the Grimm home me and my brothers, we all just thought it was a dog. We played fetch with it, had snow wars, even went sledding together. We were trying to think of a way to convince our parents to keep it- until Mum came outside with my baby sister Ginny. I thought she was going to have a heart attack right there. She started calling on the Goddess and yelling and she even sent out an emergency call to the Order of the Phoenix. Voldemort had just been defeated two moths prior, so every one was still on edge. It's Christmas Eve and here comes Dumbledore storming through the snow in some kind of pink and silver garb." If an animal was able to have a laughing fit this one was awful close; he was rolling around on the ground with his tongue lolled out. "Anyways, the Grimm was returned home. Mom told Dumbledore on the spot that Charlie was going to take Care of Magical Creatures after that. He had already been half way through his third year. She might regret it now, since he loved it so much he ran off to be a dragon tamer." Fred sighed, "The next day when Gramps Weasley was toasting Christmas dinner he had a heart attack and died."

In testament to his odd day, the Grimm proceeded to get up off the floor, lick his face, and bound off. Fred whipped the saliva off and decided it would be best to just forget the whole episode had ever happened. If someone was bound to die then the Goddess would take them Grimm or not. Wrapping his cloak up under his head; he cast a mild warming charm and lay down. He must have dozed off because the next thing he noticed was a gentle voice saying, "Fred?"

Tiredly opening his eyes, he hummed in reply.

"Its horrible! They sentenced Buckbeak to death."

"That's nice," He mumbled.

"Nice?" something was screeching, "How dare you!"

That sounded just like Hermione when she was mad. Funny, it sounded like she was talking about Buckbeak in his dreams. Usually they talked about Arithmancy- Bugger it all, he was awake. He got up quickly and quickly located her storming towards the castle. "Hermione! Wait up." Darn it, why was his leg asleep now of all times? At least his stride was longer. When he finally caught up with her he loosely grabbed her arm, "Hermione, I'm sorry. That's horrible about Buckbeak." And weren't Grimm's always punctual? Seeing that Hermione's eyes were watering, he handed her his handkerchief, "Don't cry now. I'm so, so sorry."

She bit her lip, "You weren't just pretending?"

"What?"

"To be my friend?"

Where ever did she get that idea? "Of course not, you're the best friend a bloke could ask for. Look, I was just asleep. I've been told I could sleep through an entire Quidditch match if I was tired enough."

She giggled tiredly, "Hopefully you wouldn't sleepwalk through the game."

"I just about did through practice today."

"Oh, Fred! You have rings around your eyes. What happened?"

"I miscalculated the placement of the node, or did the computations wrong or something. The harmonies wouldn't stop screeching like a bad banshee. I finally got it fixed around 5:20, and ten minutes later Oliver comes banging in saying we were having early practice." He had contemplated homicide.

She narrowed her eyes at him, "Something else is bothering you."

"It is?" How did she guess?

"Yes, you're rubbing your eyebrow. You only do that when you are upset. You scratch it when you are nervous."

He pulled his hand from his brow, but the damage had been done. This girl knew his ticks. How come she knew him so well after only a few months? Were they really that close? He sighed and pulled his hand through his hair, "My brother is a whore."

"Ron? Because I always thought he would have to walk into a room full of naked women before he noticed any difference."

He laughed. He laughed so hard he was having trouble breathing. And when he was doubled over gasping for air she was rubbing his back gently. When he finally looked up at her he was so thankful he had her to talk to, "Thanks, you have no idea how bad I needed that."

"That bad huh?"

"Worse." He shivered. Dusk was quick approaching and he left his cloak by the lake. He should summon it.

A warming charm washed over him, "Come on, Fred. You can tell me about it while we go get your cloak."

On second thought that sounded much better.

So as they walked to the lake he told her all about Angelina and George. And Chang and George. How he and George had fought. And he told her all his misgivings. Was he being a bad twin to be mad at George pretending to be him? Because they do that all the time anyway. Was this really any different? And he really hadn't meant what he said about not opening a shop with George, he was just so angry. Surely he could understand how what he was doing was a bad thing. The whole time Hermione just listened, like they were talking Arithmancy. Except this wasn't Arithmancy, this was his twin. Fred didn't know what he would do without his twin.

Once they had received his cloak, Hermione cast a cushioning charm and set down with him be the lake, "I don't think George should be acting like he is. I also think you overreacted."

"What?" How was any of this his fault?

"You purposely sought George out when you knew you were angry with him. You also knew he was most likely with someone else. You essentially made him feel like he was being attacked."

"George just needs a firm hand." Merlin, he sounded like his Mom. "Someone had to tell him he was wrong."

"And you could have. Later tonight. When you were calmer, and knew that it wouldn't result in a fight. You have a temper Fred, and you know that. When your temper flares, so does your magic. I've only felt it twice, and I know I never want it directed at me. You did that to George, your twin."

Bloody hell. She was right. How could he have been so stupid? "Now what?" he sighed.

"Now you apologize. And find a way to work it out so you both know when it's not alright to pretend to be the other." She bit her lip and laughed hollowly, "I was so lonely growing up that I always thought I wanted a ton of siblings. It seems like it's not as great as it sounds, though."

"No," he shook his head, "It's wonderful. You're never alone and they are always there to take care of you. Even if sometimes they piss you off."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. One time when I was six, Ron broke my toy broom. Uncle Fabian had given it to me for my second birthday, see? I was so mad that I turned his favorite stuffed bear into a giant spider, big as your head."

"Goodness!"

He still remembered the screams, "Mum was so mad- she was sure I borrowed her wand- that she tanned my hide."

"Wait, why didn't you just tell your Mum it was accidental magic?"

"Since," Well this was awkward. In for a sickle, in for a gallon. "We never told our parents about my magic."

"Who came up with that bright idea?" She didn't seem very impressed.

"Well, it was Percy at first. I started having accidental magic shortly after," he swallowed, "After that New Year's. It was nonstop: things would levitate, change color, or animate. When we were finally let out Percy told us to stick close together and never leave each other's side. We took to confusing everybody and making them think we were each other. It was fun. Percy didn't tell us until we got our Hogwarts letters, but he had been afraid George was a-"

"A squib?" she guessed.

"Yeah, it took him a few months to realize it, but he was around us all the time. And, well, I was making all the magic. George never did any. He may have done some as we grew up but it would have been hard to tell because I was always doing things. Our parents just saw two gifted children, though."

"But surely your parents wouldn't have minded?"

He shook his head, "I don't know. Uncle Gideon had a son. Mom and Dad had talked about adopting him. But he didn't get his Hogwarts letter. So they sent him to a Muggle place instead."

"An orphanage?" she gasped, "That's horrible."

"Is it? Would it be worse to live like Filch and have to be dependent on Wizards for everything, or to have the chance to get a decent education in the Muggle world? I don't know. I just know that I'm glad Perce did what he did."

She put his hand on his knee, "I am too."

"Perce looked it up when he got to Hogwarts. Apparently it can happen to monoamniotic twins- that just means were truly identical- but it is very rare. One of the twins will take the other twins magic while still in the womb, usually because they are underdeveloped. It has caused the other twin to become a squib and in some cases die. I don't know why I took Georges magic, I just know I wouldn't be here without him and I'm glad he's here with me." He scratched his brow, "I really need to apologize."

She chuckled lightly at him. "Then perhaps we should head inside and grab some food so you can get to that."

"Actually, how about I show you the kitchens?"

"You know where the kitchens are? I thought the food was charmed. Of course it wouldn't be, that's silly. Then who makes all of the food?"

The path was light by the moon about to reach its apex as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders, "Tell me, Hermione, what do you know about House Elves?"

As they walked up to the school - and he was given a very passionate rant about the horrid slavery subjected upon House Elves - Fred couldn't help but thank the Goddess for the day he became friends with Hermione Granger. Not only would she listen to him blabber for hours about Arithmancy he knew she couldn't comprehend, she also took the time to hear him out about his personal issues. Things he couldn't talk to George about, because George already knew them or they were about George. But that didn't mean he didn't want someone to just listen. Hermione was good at that. So when she declared that she was going to find a way to free all House Elves, he couldn't help but comment, "Would you like some help?"

He loved her smile. Especially those two buck teeth.

"Well, first I suppose we will need to know if there is some kind of binding or something that makes them the way they are. You haven't," she looked around the corridor they were in. He could already feel it was abandoned; still it was awful cute to see her try and be sneaky. She whispered, "Heard anything?"

He was pretty sure he would have remembered a story about House Elf bindings. That would have been some Wizards pride and joy. Just the magic required would have been- Oh. "Honestly, I've never looked."

"What?" she looked at him askance.

"It's like," he found himself unsure how to explain. George never really wanted to know particulars, and Perce just wanted to make sure it wasn't harmful. "It's like playing Quidditch. If I spent all my time trying to score points, watch for bludgers, and catch the snitch I would never get anything done. It's because I can just focus on the bludgers and ignore everything else that I'm good at what I do."

"So you just pick and chose what to listen to? Like selective hearing?" she asked.

"Not really. Some things I can't ignore. Like people I'm close to. Higher magic is also practically impossible to shut out."

"You mean like the active Runes in your Tur'kor."

"Exactly," he exclaimed. Hermione was so quick on the uptake. "Everything else, especially patterns that are repeated a lot are easy to tune out. I'm not really sure why, but there it is."

She narrowed her eyes at him, "You could try, though, right?"

"Why not? Might be interesting," he flashed her a quick grin. They had finally approached the bowl of fruit that concealed the Hogwarts kitchens. The painting stretched high into the vaulted ceiling and was a relic of the 1600's when the current Headmaster had decided to hide the kitchen from roaming students. That hadn't stopped George and he from bribing a seventh year Hufflepuff for the location in their first week. Fred bowed dramatically, "May I present the kitchens."

"It's a painting of fruit." Hermione said with her arms crossed. "I suppose I could see the symbology. Then again, you would expect the Gryffindor commons to behind a painting of a lion."

"Too boring," he wiggled his eyebrows, "we must keep the snakes on their toes. If they had any, that is. Now, tickle the pear."

"Tickle it? Honestly." When the door appeared they entered the kitchens and were immediately accosted by a score of elves. The rest were continuing the after dinner clean-up; removing plates from the duplicate tables that mirrored the great hall and setting up clean settings for breakfast tomorrow. Hermione gasped, "There are so many."

"Master Wheeze and guest! What can Twink be getting you?" The closet elf bowed slightly.

Fred smiled at Twink, "Do you think we could get some dinner?" Remembering Hermione's request to look and see if there were any bindings the House Elf magic, he opened his senses and felt out Twink's magic.

Darkness.

The magic was so angry. So mad. It hated. Hated humans. It was going to kill humans. Humans kept it bound. Made it work. Made it bleed. Kill the humans. Magic was mad.

Someone was in pain. There was screaming. Couldn't whoever was screaming shut the bloody hell up? His head hurt. What was going on? Where was George? Why couldn't he feel George? Why couldn't that idiot shut up! Too loud. It was all too loud.

"This little light of mine, I'm gona let it shine. This little light of mine, I'm gona let it shine." Who was that singing? They had a nice voice. If only that idiot would stop screaming he could listen to it. "Let it shine, Let it shine, Let it shine." Why couldn't he see the person that was singing? Maybe he could feel them. There they were. He knew that magic. Hermione.

Fred became aware of many things all at once: he was the idiot screaming, his limbs felt like they had all been crushed, and his head was pounding. It appeared at some point he had been moved to the hospital wing. Most importantly, it appeared he was holding a crying Hermione his lap. "What-," he coughed.

"Oh," Hermione gasped. She reached over towards the nightstand and handed him a cup, "Thank goodness you are alright. I was so worried. Here's some water."

He allowed the water to south his raw vocal ends, "What happened?"

"We were hopping you could tell us that Mr. Weasley," he looked up to see Professor McGonagall. Ouch, got to remember to move slowly. He noted with some horror the hospital wing behind her was trashed. "You arrived here by House Elf two hours ago and have been having convulsions ever since. It appears you also managed to singlehandedly destroy the Hogwarts' kitchens."

Fuck. Officially the worst day ever. He was so screwed when Mum got that letter. George would be even more pissed that he didn't get to help. No one would believe that it was an accident.

"I really must insist that you have this conversation once I have tended to my patient," Madam Pomfrey stated.

"Do you know how much the enchantments on the kitchens cost? I can't go before the Board without an explanation," McGonagall protested.

He wished they would just shut up; their talking was making his headache worse.

"It's my fault," Hermione spoke up from his lap, drawing the attention of the adults. Wait, what? "I asked Fred to try a new spell. In retrospect, the kitchen probably wasn't the place to do it."

McGonagall turned her attention to Hermione, "And what spell was that?"

"The Patronus Charm. I thought with the Dementors outside it might be good if we learned it. I figured it couldn't be that hard," Hermione rambled looking contrite. "Since Sirius Black keeps breaking into the Castle, who knows if the next time the Dementors might follow him. I just wanted-"

"That's quite enough Miss Granger. There is a reason we learn higher level spells in controlled classroom settings. I had expected better of you. Ten points, each. And detention on Wednesday," McGonagall gave them a wink, "I do believe Professor Flitwick is free then. If you ask nicely, I'm sure he will give you pointers on how properly to cast a Patronus."

As McGonagall departed Fred found himself a little dumfounded. Hermione Granger had just pulled the wool over the eyes of the most no nonsense teacher there was in the school. The teachers pet had just flat out lied to a teacher. Somehow he was getting away with destroying the kitchens with 10 points and a night of tutoring with Hermione. Wicked.

"Alright, Mr. Weasley, I've got some potions here for you to take. Miss Granger, if you could kindly extract yourself from my patient now that he has seen fit to release you." Pomfrey bustled over with a half-dozen potions.

As Hermione extracted himself from his lap, Fred began knocking back the potions. "Guess this means I'm in for the night?"

"Most certainly, Mr. Weasley."

He could feel his muscles relaxing and headache lessening. "Not that I'm complaining, but usually when a Lady wants me to stay over they take me to their bedchambers," he teased with a wink.

Hermione giggled.

"I'm afraid you are a little inexperienced for my tastes Mr. Weasley," Pomfrey reprimanded.

He blinked. Did that mean she would sleep with George? Bad thoughts. He hesitated when he got to the dreamless sleep, "Do you think I could speak to Hermione for a few minutes first?"

"Very well then, but curfew is in fifteen minutes. I expect to find you asleep and Miss Granger gone by that time," the matron insisted sternly. Madame Pomfrey grabbed the other potions bottles and left for her office.

"Hermione, I-"

"Shh, Fred, one minute." Hermione pulled out her wand and began casting wards. The third year who had no idea what he was doing in January was casting a full scheme mid-March.

"You need to add a bigger swish on the downward slash of your notice-me-not. Otherwise, I'm impressed," he grinned.

"Thanks."

"Are you blushing?"

"N-no."

"You are! Crikey Hermione, there are grown Witches who wish they could learn those spells so well in twice the time it took you. It's bloody impressive, that is." Not to mention it was further proof of just how backwards their society was in not pushing Muggleborns to their full potential. Hermione could change the world with the right encouragement.

She smiled congenially at him, before a frown marred her features. "What happened Fred?"

He leaned back against the hospital pillows and shivered, "You were right about their being a binding. It's dark; probably the blackest magic I've ever felt." Best not to mention the House Elves wanted to kill all the Wizards in revenge, yet.

She gasped, "Who would do such a thing?"

"I don't know," he shook his head.

"Well, we will have to do some research. But first we need to discover why you reacted the way you did. That was awful."

He swallowed. Hermione had spent near half an hour ranting about how she would free the House Elves if it was the last thing she ever did, and now she was saying they needed to work on him first? People didn't worry about him first, not unless their names were Percy or George. "It's not that big of a deal," he commented offhandedly.

"Not that big of a deal?" Hermione placed her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes, "You wouldn't stop screaming and thrashing. Madame Pomfrey kept casting spells and nothing worked. I thought you were dying." When she started crying - again - Fred felt horrible.

He reached his hand out and grabbed hers, "I'm sorry. That's never happened before. It was like I was stuck in the magic and couldn't find my way out. I kept looking for George, but I couldn't find him. Finally I heard someone singing, and then I felt your magic. That's when it all stopped."

She set down on the bed, "I started singing when Madam Pomfrey said she couldn't do anything else. She was going to get an EVAC team from Mongo's. I was just trying to calm you down."

Fred flinched. EVAC teams were called in when a magical core was in danger of exploding. He hadn't realized it was quite so bad. "I think," his mouth was suddenly dry, "that the dark magic drew me in. It's happened a few times before, but usually George is there to pull me out. Also, this spell was way worse than anything else I have ever heard. It was like drowning in a sea of darkness."

Hermione squeezed his hand, "Well then, I think the first rule is that you never hear out Hose Elves again."

"But-"

"No buts, Fred. Unless we know that it is safe, we are not putting you in danger like that." She looked at him through narrowed eyes, "Also, it might be best if you were to try hearing some things George had to pull you back from again. That way you can try to do it yourself. Or maybe if I was there I can try singing to you if you can't manage. We will figure this out."

Fred got the distinct impression that he was going to figure a way to control this wether he liked it or not. "I supposed it wouldn't hurt to try."

"Of course not," she smiled. "Now get some sleep. I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Course."

She released his hand, reached behind him and fluffed up his pillow. Ruffling his hair she departed with a, "Sleep well now."

A little unsure of what he had just got himself into, Fred reached over to grab the dreamless sleep. He felt Hermione leaving the hospital wing when the vial slipped out of his hand and his vision blurred.

Darknees.

"Fred, Fred!" Who was- Hermione. He focused in on her magic.

Somehow he was lying on the floor in a bottle of broken dreamless sleep. "What happened?" At this point meeting Sirius Black was about the only way this day could get worse.

"I don't know. I heard a crash when I walked outside the hospital doors, so I came back in to check on you. It's a miracle you aren't cut," she rambled.

"Edge-proof glass," he lifted himself up into bed with her assistance.

She said a shower spell over him and cleaned the floor, "They make that?"

"Yeah. Cheaper than shatter-proof." He tried to think back on what had happened, "It must had been when your magic left my range. There are still some lingering effects of the curse. The stone walls of the castle muffle my ability, so when you left the hospital wing I blacked out."

She pulled the covers over him, "I guess I'm staying here with you then."

"No."

"If me leaving causes you to black out then I'm not going anywhere," she insisted.

Fred's breath hitched. Lee was a roommate; Wood was a teammate and captain; Perce was his brother; George was his twin. He knew Hermione was his friend, still it was different experience to believe it. It was nice to have a friend. "Hermione, as great as that sounds," he smiled at her just to show her it really did sound wonderful, "George can somehow cleanse my magic."

"Really?" she said with a dumbfounded look on her face. She put her hand on his shoulder, "You'll be all right while I go get him?"

Absolutely not. That last spell wore off the pain potion. But he wasn't going to tell her that. "Of course."

"Okay then." She bit her lip, "I'll make sure to hurry."

"No rush." She tucked the blankets in around his shoulders, like how Perce would do when it was bed time. He briefly wondered if she could get Perce too, but that would be getting his hopes up. Especially after this day. "Hermione?"

"Yes, Fred?"

"Tell George that it's like the Marauder's Map. He'll understand." At first George hadn't wanted to believe him that a piece of parchment could be anything special. That was until he tried to hear it and he had been sick for a week; he never got sick. Even when they had both come down with dragon pox at age six George had been in Mongo's for a month while he had recovered in two days. It just didn't happen.

She shook her head, "I'm sure I don't want to know."

"Harry hasn't shown you yet?"

"Harry?" she narrowed her eyes.

Uh-oh. "I'll tell you later."

"I'm sure you will." Smiling gently, she patted his blanket, "Night Fred." When she got up and left he allowed his smile to fall. He gripped the blankets tightly. She would be walking out the door in three, two-

Darkness.

He could feel his magic stirring. So much pain. "Fred. Com'on, Fred, wake up!" Magic was calling to him. Familiar, gentle. Like a spring breeze. Like home. George.

His stomach recoiled. George was quicker to conjure a bucket, though. He heaved until the only thing that was left to do was choke on his own spit.

"You will let me past, Mr. Weasley!" Pomfrey was back.

"I'm afraid that's not possible Madame Pomfrey," Perce said. Perce had come? Course he did. Perce always came.

"Not possible?" Pomfrey sputtered, "This is my hospital wing. I was clearly misinformed when I was told this was a case of a miscast Patronus Charm. You will let me through so I can diagnose my patient this instant!"

"This is a matter of House Weasley." Oh, Fred couldn't help but grin faintly as Pompous Percy made and an appearance. "Under the Hogwarts charter all private house matters have to be kept secret by school staff. Furthermore, as a licensed Healer-"

"I am quite aware of my oaths, Mr. Weasley." Pomfrey bristled, "Now if you will allow me to tend to your brother?" Fred wanted to crack a joke when Perce and Pomfrey turned his way, but frankly he was to weak. "Mr. Weasley - Fred - can you please tell me what happened. Truthfully this time?"

"Dark-," he croaked. He liked his lips, grateful when Perce conjured him some water. "Dark magic."

"Bloody Hell," George swore.

"Was it Black?" Perce asked franticly. Fred could tell by the way Perce's shoulders were set he was ready to storm the castle looking for the convict that would dare harm his brother. Perce had once charged a garden gnome who had made him cry only to have his hand bitten. Fred had stopped crying when he noticed his brothers frantic attempts to dislodge the beast; his resulting accidental magic had sent the gnome soaring twenty feet in the air. Perce had spent the whole way home making sure he was okay, and Fred had forgotten all about Perce's hand until Mum noticed it and bandaged it up. Perce was like that. His current nagging was reaching new heights, "What curse was it? Should I call the Aurors? Do you need-"

"That's quite enough," Pomfrey interrupted, "your brother was found in the kitchens. I assure you Sirius Black has not entered the castle tonight. Whatever this is has obviously addled his brain."

Apparently he had made a joke after all. "No. Curse. In the kitchens."

"I've worked here for thirty-eight years. I assure you there is no Curse in the kitchens, Mr. Weasley. Now-"

"Madam Pomfrey?" Perce interrupted, "This might be a good time to tell you Fred is magic sensitive."

Pomfrey stared at Perce in abject disbelief, "There hasn't been a magic sensitive since-"

"Uric the Oddball in the 1400's." George stated, "We know. But he is." Fred briefly wondered if you could get points taken for glaring at a Professor. Did Pomfrey even count? Perce and George might land them in negative.

"Sweet merciful Goddess!" Pomfrey swore.

Next thing he knew spells were flying at him in rapid succession. Pomfrey gasped in horror after a minute. That was probably a bad sign. "What is it?" Perce demanded.

"It's nothing." Pomfrey started, but upon seeing their faces of disbelief she backpedaled, "I mean, It's nothing I can't fix in a few days time. I just haven't seen this amount of dark magic since the war."

Perce frowned, "You said this was in the kitchens?"

"Yes," Fred answered.

"Where Fred?" Perce crossed his arms.

"It's nothing to worry with."

"Mr. Weasley," Pomfrey stated, "your brother has a good point. Whatever did this to you might not be exclusive; it might start harming the other students. The Headmaster needs to be informed so that the danger can be removed."

Fred sighed, "It's the House Elves. Or the Curse that binds them to wizards. I doubt it will bother anyone else."

They were all starting at him now. Finally Pomfrey spoke, "I believe you are correct about that. Do try and stay away from the kitchens in the future, though."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Well, then. I'll just go get you some potions to help flush the dark magic out of your system. I'm afraid dreamless sleep is counter indicated for this; your in luck that you dropped the last one or you would have been in for a rough ride."

When Pomfrey left, Perce immediately set down and began tucking him back in again. "What were you thinking? How do you feel? Any headaches? Blurred vision? What about-?"

"Give him some space Perce," George chuckled.

"The headache went away after the first round of potions. My vision blurs and I black out when I can't sense a magical core that I know. I'm in some pain. Other than that I'm fine." He smiled weakly, because really everything was fine now that his brothers were here. "Thanks for coming guys."

"You are a fool if you thought for one second we wouldn't." Perce reprimanded, "It scared me to death when Granger came in the common room and said you were in the Hospital wing. I can expect these things from George, but I thought you knew better."

"Gotta keep you on your toes," Fred mumbled. He wished George would say something to him, not just the other people in the room. It was beginning to get awkward, this not-so-silent silent treatment.

"I suppose," Perce smiled.

Pomfrey was back with the potions, "Here we are. Take these and try to get some rest. The other two of you need to return to your common room."

"Can George stay?" he blurted before he thought better. When he saw George's shoulders stiffen, he knew it was a bad idea.

Perce spoke up before he could, "George's magic has always helped to calm his."

Pomfrey nodded her head, "Very well then. You two know where to find me."

Perce nodded, "Thank you Madam." He placed a brief kiss on Fred's head, and walked by and squeezed George's shoulder. "You two stay out of trouble. For my sanity, at least."

The silence in the room quickly became oppressive. George was forcibly removing his cloak and trainers, glaring at the wall. Fred knew he needed to say something. "I'm sorry. About earlier. The way I acted. I didn't mean to force my magic on you." He paused, what had Hermione said? His magic was scary, and, "Well, maybe I did. I wanted to intimidate you. I was just so mad and confused. I should have let myself calm down. That was wrong of me."

George chuckled grimly, "You're a git, you know?"

"Tell me about it."

"I was pretty pissed at you too," he frowned. "And then Granger comes in saying you blew up the Hogwarts kitchens-"

"Don't remember," which sucked.

George waved his hand, "Still Bloody-."

"Awesome," he finished. "Wonder if they will put it in Hogwarts, a History." Hermione would flip.

George and he shared a laugh. George took a breath, "But that is what I need you to understand. That was your magic reacting to danger. It destroyed a thousand years of enchantments in minutes. I know you can't ever feel it, but can you begin to imagine what it might be like for me? I'm just an average wizard Fred. How can I stand up to that?"

Fred turned sideways in bed so he could get a better look at George, "You're not just an average wizard George. You're my twin. I would die before anything happened to you. That's not to mention the fact that you are brilliant when it comes to Potions. Brilliant. I bet you could beat old Snape out any day."

George smiled faintly and drug his hand through his hair, "I haven't been brewing."

"I noticed."

"I just," he frowned, "I don't know. I feel like I'm stuck. Like I can't think of anything new."

Fred nodded, "I was having the same problem back in January."

"What happened?"

"I started over from scratch with new Runes and different calculations."

George furrowed his brows, "New ingredients and methods, then."

"Yeah, I think we have the same problem. It's so easy to get wrapped up in what you are doing and forget there are other ways to go about it."

"That's a thought." George pulled off his shirt and approached the bed, "Do you mind?"

Considering the hundreds of times they had slept together as children, he simply pulled the covers back. "Course not." It was a bit more cramped now that they were both pushing six feet, though. His magic sighed in contentment when George made skin contact. He could feel their magics begin cycling though to each other. "Hope you don't catch any of the dark magic contamination, though."

"Me? I'm white as snow," George protested.

"Certainly," Fred laughed, "How much of the Quidditch team have you slept through?"

"Fred?" George asked hesitantly.

Fred sighed, "I don't mind. Just tell me when you sleep with someone and pretend to be me, that way I'm not caught off guard if they come onto me. I'm all for flirting. But it's not so much fun if the girl knows more about our relationship then I do."

"Okay." George held up his hand, "Let's see, there was Angelina, obviously. Heidi Macavoy-"

"The Hufflepuff chaser?"

"The same," he held up another finger, "Nandini."

"The girl in Perce's year with a nice ass?"

"Yeap. Then there was Susan Fawcett."

"With the huge rack?"

"It's bigger without a bra," George grinned. "And Felicity."

"Who sets across from us in Charms. No wonder she keeps making go-go eyes."

"Yeap." They chuckled. "Finally there's Flora Carrow."

"Carrow? As in the the fourth year Slytherin set of twins."

"Yeah. She keeps asking me if we could double date."

Fred blinked a few times, "That's fretfully wrong."

"Don't I know it." It was good to laugh with George again.

"You sure do get around."

"Na-ah, my dear Fred. You get around," George corrected.

"Whatever." Fred rolled his eyes, "Just as long as I don't have anymore nude girls propositioning me I'll be happy."

"You sure you don't want some? There's plenty of girls willing," George asked jokingly. "There's something about twins that's a major turn-on."

"The key word there is girls, George. I wan't a woman who loves me so deeply she would give up magic if that's what it took to stay together. Real love, not just sex."

"You're looking for a pipe dream Freddie."

"It's there, Georgie, I know it."

"If you say so."

As they talked late into the night Fred realized that maybe this wasn't such a bad day after all. Sure, it could have turned out better, but he hadn't felt closer to George in a long time. He was also sure now that he had found his first real friend that was just his in Hermione. She was someone who didn't want to use him for his magic, who didn't think him cool because he was a twin or did pranks, and also didn't run at the first sign he was different. Perhaps today was a good day despite the bad things.

…o0o…

This weekend was already off to a much better start than the last had been. They had career counseling today, so there were no classes on Friday. George and he had taken the opportunity to seek down to the Slytherin common and charm the entrance to pour a voice altering potion on everyone that walked by. It was a brilliant Potion George had come up with this week, and it would make the person fortunate enough to get hit with it sound like a random animal for an hour. The best part was it was a new potion so Snape didn't have the antidote.

Hermione had been right about George, what he had been most upset about was the threatening feel of his magic. Fred had since moved some of his Arithmancy studies to the fourth floor room while George worked on his brewing. He hadn't realized how much he had been missing his twin; just being in the same room was comforting.

Right now they were sitting outside McGonagall's office planing their next round of pranks. The Quidditch final against Slytherin was the weekend after Easter break. It would be Wood's last match and they both agreed their erstwhile leader needed a memorable goodbye. George had mentioned earlier he found a Potion that when ingested let the drinker float a few inches of the ground.

"Gred, do you think-"

"I do," George joked.

Fred smiled, "Woods favorite-"

"Quidditch-" Well at least they were on the same page. Then again, all Wood talked about was Quidditch.

"Team?"

"Puddlemere."

Really? "United?"

"Just so."

"I could-"

"Easily," George smirked.

Fred rolled his eyes; George loved making fun of his magic, "Transfigure-"

"Brillant."

And that was that. He would Transfigure Oliver's uniform into Puddlemere United's after George snuck him the floating solution. This would, of course, happen after they won the Quidditch cup for the first time since Charlie's OWL year. It would be brilliant.

When McGonagall came out and called his name, George gave him a thumbs up.

He walked into her office with a happy grin. The room was decorated in deep mahoganies with gold accents. George and he had been in here many a time for one reason or another. Grades, pranks, Quidditch, Ginny- best not to go there today. He folded is robes with flourish and set down in the straight backed chair in front of her desk, "Professor M! Lovely weather today."

She pursed her lips, "Mr. Weasley, you are aware that we are trying to perform career counseling today?"

"Yes Ma'am."

"Care to inform me why Slytherin house seems unable to be counseled at this moment, then?"

He felt the corner of his mouth raise before he schooled his features. George was going to love this. "I'm quite sure I have no idea what you are talking about."

"I see." She grabbed the edge of her spectacles and raised them up on her face. "In that case, I believe we should move on to your counseling. What kind of career do you have and interest in, Mr. Weasley?"

Well, at least that he knew. "I'm going to be a Spellcrafter."

She blinked once, twice, and then let out a deep sigh. "Perhaps you would like to continue Quidditch, or be a store clerk at Zonko's?"

"No," he frowned. Was she going senile? "I want to be a Spellcrafter."

"Mr. Weasley," She took off her glasses and cleaned them, "Spellcrafting is a very difficult and dangerous field. With your grades, it is just not possible."

Was this what Hermione had meant about nobody funding his work unless he could prove he was gifted? McGonagall had taught him for years. She knew she got every Transfiguration right on the first try. And she was telling him he couldn't do what he wanted because he had bad grades. What would have happened if he had told her about the joke shop? This was ridiculous. He sat up straighter in the chair, "I was told the only prerequisite to get into NEWT classes was a passing grade on the OWL's?"

"That is correct."

"Then I am going to pass my OWL's, I am going to get a dual-Mastery in Arithmancy in Charms, and I will be Spellcrafter. That is my career decision," he stated.

She pursed her lips, "Very well than, Mr. Weasley. Here are pamphlets on the requirements for Arithmancy and Charms. My door is open to you if your OWL's don't pan out."

He ground out, "Thank you," grabbed the pamphlets and stormed down the corridor not even bothering to spare George a glance. He couldn't believe the shear gall of that washed up witch. Just because he didn't want to write essays on how to preform a perfectly easy spell, didn't make him any less capable wizard. He needed to get together with George and come up with a prank for her; maybe they could stupefy her and throw the mangy cat in lake with a bubblehead charm. Then she would see who was the poor wizard.

When he finally started paying attention to his surroundings again, he realized he had found his way to their table in the library. Hermione's and his. It was odd to consider himself a part of another pair. But he liked it. With nothing better to do he sat down and pulled out his Tur'kor.

He was on his third straight node when he felt her enter the library. Her magic was becoming almost second nature for him to detect, like family. He perked his head and waved as she came around the corner.

"Fred," she smiled, "you wouldn't believe what I found in this horribly dusty book today."

"Words?"

"Honestly," she huffed, "No, I think I might have found the key to the House Elf binding you found last weekend."

"Oh? What did the dusty book have to say?"

Hermione set her heavy bag down on the ground and began to explain enthusiastically, "Well, its more of a footnote. But it says that in 624 a wizard by the name of Tarius Black found a pest on his property. With some Rune work, the pest was trained to tend to the house in return for meager food. That has to be it! Trapping the poor things with Runes, honestly."

"It does sound like a possibility," he conceded. Or at least a starting point. Knowing the Blacks they could have thought enslaving Dementors was a good idea.

"These Blacks are nasty pieces of work. First Sirius Black is Harry's godfather and he tries to get him killed. And now this Tarius. I think I would hate to be related to them, wouldn't you?"

Ouch. Awkward. He scratched his eyebrow, "My Gran is a Black."

"What?" She looked ready to bolt, "I'm so sorry Fred. I didn't know."

He shrugged, "No one talks about it, but I think most purebloods are related to them. Harry's grandmother was one too, I think. They used to be a fairly big family. Gran Cedrella was disowned from the Blacks when the Weasley's became blood-traitors."

"I'm still sorry. I'm hard for me not to think of things in terms of a large population like it would be in the muggle world. Thanks for explaining and not getting mad," Hermione responded unsure. She almost looked like she thought Fred wouldn't be her friend anymore over such a simple mistake.

He thought she was being a bit ridiculous, but then again maybe other wizards were more unforgiving. Fred smiled gently, "Anytime. If you want I can write Gran and see if she knows anything about Tarius?" And suffer through her harassing him for the next month.

"Could you? That would be great," she grinned faintly. "Oh, I forgot to ask how your counseling went?"

"Horrible," he grumbled, "McGonagall doesn't think I can be a Spellcrafter. Mangy old cat threw some pamphlets at me and told me to come back when I failed."

Hermione's eyes narrowed in indignantly, "How rude. What are they even doing counseling for if they aren't going to help you?"

"She said my grades weren't good enough. Told me I should think about being a store clerk," he grumbled.

"That's just because she doesn't know the real you like I do," she consoled. "So have you read the pamphlets yet?"

He shook his head and pulled the crumpled pamphlets from where he had crammed them into his book bag. Abashed, he handed them to Hermione. She just smiled gently at him as she smoothed out the creases and opened the one on Arithmancy. "Bugger."

She looked at him sideways, "Is something wrong?"

"It says you have to have a NEWT in Astronomy for an Arithmancy Masters. I'm pants at Astronomy." Runes he could manage, but not Astronomy. It was like someone put down a bunch of squiggly lines with dots and decided to arbitrarily give them names with random purpose.

"You can't expect me to believe that."

"It's true," he shrugged. What more could he say? So much for being a Spellcrafter.

Hermione pulled out a parchment and quill, "What are the nine planets in our solar system?"

"Well there's Earth, Mars, Venus, Pluto, Uranus, Mercury, Neptune, Saturn." Was that right? He rubbed his eyebrow. That had only been eight. He knew there were nine planets. "This is useless."

Hermione hummed. While he had been talking, she had drawn a rudimentary map of the solar system. "It helps if you do them in order, that way you know which one is missing. My Mom taught me a sentence so I would remember how they go: My very excellent mother just served us nine pies. Mars, Venus, Earth, Mars-"

"Jupiter!"

"Exactly," she handed him the quill, "now why don't you write them all down?"

He supposed he should just humor her. Professor Sinistra did always say she liked his illustrations, but his ability to recall names was regrettable.

"Good then, now Earth has a radius of 6,371km and is 149.6 million km from the sun. Can you tell me the velocity of Earth?"

She wanted him to do what? That wasn't Astronomy! But he thought he remembered something like that in the Calculus book.

Two hours later he was successfully calculating the ice moon Europa's mass based on Jupiter's mass, which he had been able to get from the relative velocity the planet had traveled around the Sun, based on the Sun's mass which he had gotten when- "Hermione?"

"Yes, Fred?"

"Not that I don't love doing Math, but I don't see how this will help me with Astronomy at all."

She chuckled, "I don't supposed you ever wondered what NEWT Astronomy was?"

More boring stars? "No."

"It's knowing how the alignments of the stars effect magic such as Rune circles, Potions, and spells. Almost the whole two years is spent calculating planet trajectories. That is why a OWL in Arithmancy is required to continue on to NEWT Astronomy," she explained patiently.

Wait, what? Nobody had told him this. Goddess knew star alignment was important with higher-level craft, but actually predicting the alignment beforehand? It was so obvious. "Bloody hell."

"Language."

He stuck his tongue out at her. "It doesn't sound half bad. But I still have to pass the Astronomy OWL first. That means I would have to memorize the planets and the stars. I'm not all that good with names."

She put her finger down on the parchment were he had been scribbling out Europa's mass. "If I told you there was an ice moon orbiting a gas giant, could you write out calculations like this again?"

"Of course."

"And can you draw a star chart if you look through a telescope?"

"Yes."

"Then you write down the names of stars you remember. Any ones you don't you start writing down some fancy Arithmancy predictions on where they will be in a few days. We both know it will only take you minutes. The examiners will be so blown away at the work of a fifth year they won't remember you didn't know the constellations name. I bet you they will actually award extra credit."

He looked at her askance, "You think that will work?"

"I always does for me," she shrugged.

"Really?"

"Usually when there's a test subject I don't know I just go off topic on something else I read. Teachers think your so smart that way. They at least award you partial credit."

"Brilliant."

"I know," she winked conspiringly, "now let's see what this Charms pamphlet says."

When she opened it, his heart sank. There was no way. "I suppose McGonogall was right after all."

"What?" she looked at him disbelievingly, "How can you say that?"

"Because there is no way I'll ever get a Charms Mastery." He clenched his jaw.

She bit her lip, "It's the History, isn't it? Well we can-"

"You can't fix everything," he bit out. Were his hands shaking? Rattling on the shelves brought his attention to trembling books. He had to get out of here. Why didn't he set the limiter cube out? He had gotten complacent. He placed his Tur'kor in the Calculus book, grabbed his bag and bolted.

"Fred, wait up!"

Why was she following him? He didn't need to see her right now. He needed time to regain control of his magic. He was so stupid to believe that it would he could have ever done something like Spellcrafting. There was a reason it was such a rare Art. He should have stuck to thinking about the joke shop; he knew how to make people laugh. Jokes were easy. Even when a joke went wrong people still laughed.

When he went up the next flight of stairs he realized Hermione was still behind him. She must have been jogging to keep up. He was close to the nook behind the centaur fawn, so he ducked behind the tapestry. She would pass him by in here. He had first found this place in first year, when he walked by the tapestry and found it had more magic than others.

Hermione came by took two steps past the tapestry and stopped. She then proceeded to turn around and stare right at him. "Fred Weasley, we are going to talk about this," she demanded with her hands on her hips. He had forgotten he had shown her this portal way back in January. She had no way of knowing that he was actually in here though, so he could just wait her out. "And I know you are in there. You're book bag is hanging half-way out."

He glared down at the incriminating bag. Bugger. He sighed, reached out and pulled her in, "You might as well come in and get comfortable."

Hermione let out a little shriek, "No offense, Fred, but this is a little cramped to be comfortable."

He couldn't help but smirk, "Watch and be amazed." Tapping the third brick on the right with his wand and then two up the wall dissolved like the one at Diagon Ally to reveal a large room. The south wall was covered in windows that faced the great lake. The room was cluttered with old classroom paraphernalia covered with a light film of dust. Fred usually applied cleaning charms when he came in here, but it had been a while.

"It's beautiful," Hermione breathed as she looked out the window, "I can't believe no one ever comes here."

"They don't know about it. I never even told George, this is where I come to relax sometimes," he shrugged, "It's not even on the map."

She turned to him, "You mean the map you gave to Harry?"

"Yes," he replied hesitantly.

"You had a map of Hogwarts - a supposedly unplotable location - and you gave it to Harry. Who might I mention is the only person in this castle who might be capable of getting in more trouble than you?" she growled.

"Yes?"

"Boys." She placed her bag on one of the unused desks. "But don't think I'm distracted," she raised her finger and came towards his chest, "You are going to tell me this instant what is so bad about History that you don't think you can pass your OWL. I know you're not stupid, so don't try playing that card on me. If you apply yourself you are more than capable of getting the grade."

He sighed, "It's George."

"What about him?"

He scratched his eye, "He knows I have trouble remembering names. I was freaking out earlier this year trying to remember things for the OWL's and he told me there wasn't any point. We both agreed to only get three OWL's each, so as not to have to worry so much."

She bunched her hands up together and started pacing back and forth, "You-." When she continued to mumble for a few more minutes he thought about interrupting her, but then thought better of it. She finally turned to face him looking determined, "Fred. You are very smart, and you can't honestly believe that three OWL's is applying yourself. The same can be said for George. Now, if your worried about getting OWL's in any of the wanded classes, I've seen your spellwork. Your spells are enough to make sure that you pass the practical, you just have to make sure that you do moderate on the written and you will pass."

He pulled out a chair and sat, "Even if that is true, I won't be able to remember all the names. There just isn't enough time."

Hermione bit her lip and looked out the window towards the lake. Her bushy hair looked different in the evening light, not quite so frizzy as usual. She spoke hesitantly, "Fred, if I tell you something, can you promise to tell no one? Not even George?"

Fred pulled out his wand, "I, Fred Gideon Weasley, swear on my magic to keep secret whatever Hermione Granger tells me in the next hour until the time she releases me from this bond. So mote it be." His magic swelled around him signifying its acceptance.

"What was that?" Hermione asked.

"A wizard's oath."

"Oh. I didn't mean-"

"Of course not. But I wanted to," he said. And he had. "If it was something you felt needed to be kept secret, then secret it shall be kept." Anything for his friend.

"Well," she began, pulling up a chair next to his, "what do you know about time-turners?"

Time-turners? This should be good. "Well, they are restricted in there use. Turing back time is extremely dangerous. That's why all usage is monitored by the-," his speech was halted as he watched her pull an intricate gold chain from around her neck an hold a tiny gold hourglass between them. "Goddess above, Hermione, where did you get that?" he asked in disbelief.

"McGonagall," she stated as if that was a normal occurrence, "She gave it to me at the beginning of the year so that I could get to my classes on time."

Like hell she did. He wrapped her hand around the hourglass and said sternly, "Put it away."

"Fred?" He could feel his magic swelling. This was bad. He put his hands to his temples and began to rub them. When Hermione put her hand on his arm he almost jumped, "What's wrong?"

"There's only one group of wizards allowed to use time-turners in all of Britain: the Unspeakables. Possession of one without authorization is punishable by life in Azkaban." Hermione gasped and started reaching for the chain around her neck. He grabbed her hand, "Unless with express written authorization of the Minister for Magic or the Chief Warlock."

"Professor Dumbledore."

"Dumbledore," he nodded, "I doubt he went through all that trouble just so you could get to classes. Not that you don't deserve it, mind. No, I'd bet my wand this is because-" she's friends with Harry Potter. The boy Sirius Black wanted dead. Like Ron was. Goddess. Fuck. He should march up to that old f-

"Because what Fred?" she looked at him beseechingly.

He couldn't keep this from her. He sighed, "He knew Sirius Black would come after Harry so he gave you the time-turner to change things in case it became necessary."

Hermione gasped, "That's illegal."

"I know," he nodded. Not to mention the absolute chaos it could cause if Magic was thrown out of focus. There was a reason time-turners were restricted. There must be a reason Dumbledore was willing to risk so much. Fred rubbed his brow and exhaled deeply, "People see Harry as a figurehead of the light. When he triumphed over Voldemort as a baby, it made people believe in true Magic again. If he died, it could through that belief into chaos."

Hermione frowned, "Not to mention it would make Voldemort happy."

Fred blinked, "Voldemort is dead."

"Didn't Ron tell you?"

He looked at her intently, "Tell me what?"

"Voldemort was possessing Quirrell, trying to steal the Philosopher's Stone so he could be resurrected. That's why-"

Voldemort was alive? The man who singlehandedly was responsible for the worse civil war in magical Britain ever was alive and he was hearing about it from a third year. Apparently Dumbledore knew, but who cares, let's not tell anyone. How about we wait until he comes back and starts murdering again, huh? Doesn't that make sense? And then-

Narrow arms wrapped around his waist. "Fred, you need to calm down."

He blinked a few times and realized most of the furniture was on the ceiling. When had he stood up? Returning Hermione's hug he replied with a soft, "Alright," and willed himself to relax. Voldemort was alive. Sirius Black was trying to kill Harry. Ron and Hermione would probably be there too. Bugger. And idiot that he was he had sworn a magical oath of silence. Bloody fuck. There was nothing for it, he was going to have to find away to protect his family, oath or not. "Hermione?"

"Yes, Fred?" she looked up at him from within his arms.

He liked having her in his arms, it was comfortable. He smiled slightly, "What were you thinking when you showed me the time-turner?" She blushed and ducked her head. He lightly lifted it back up with his hand, "None of that then."

"Well," she bit her lip, "You said there wasn't enough time. I was thinking we could spend some extra time studying. I don't know." She shrugged her shoulders.

He hummed, "It's not a bad idea, how far back does that model go?"

"Twelve hours."

He did some quick calculations. "So we go back twelve hours, spend a day in this room, exit and then go back another twelve hours." He nodded, "Today is March 25; OWL's start the May 30th. That means if we start tomorrow, we can gain another 66 days to study. Sounds good to me."

"Really?" she asked hesitantly.

"Certainly," he added, "Think of all the extra time I will have for Arithmancy," he grinned cheekily. When she squeezed him around his midsection he suddenly realized they hadn't ever quit holding each other. Letting go of her he commented, "You should probably be the one to go get us food from the kitchen, though."

"Right," she nodded, "We will have to make lists of what we are going to study before hand so we know what to check out from the library. We also will need to work out a bathroom."

"There's one right there," he pointed to a tarnished door off to the right.

"Good. I suppose I don't need to ask if you can transfigure beds?"

He grinned, "Would my Lady prefer pink sheets or chartreuse?"

"Prat," she giggled.

Joking aside he was actually signing himself up for intensive OWL revision under the study nazi Hermione Granger. Ron had told him stories about that. This had the potential to either go really good or horrendously bad. But if it was what he had to do to keep his family safe from Voldemort, then a few books wouldn't hurt him. Hopefully Hermione would understand he needed his Arithmancy to keep him sane. The best part was George wouldn't even notice he was gone. He sighed.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked.

"I don't know what to do about George."

Hermione tilted her head, "You have said many times that George is brilliant at Potions."

He nodded.

"Do you think he could get his mastery?"

Could he? "Yeah, I think he could. If he wanted too. But George-"

"Is too busy being a man whore," Hermione stated bluntly.

Fred cringed.

"Sorry," Hermione said, "that was awful rude of me."

"It's the truth," he shrugged. Fred had discovered when he was young that you can't pick your family.

She bit her lip, "You said George needed a firm hand."

"Right."

"So just don't take no for an answer."

"Sure," he replied hesitantly. How exactly did one go about that? George's base philosophy was 'no only means don't get caught.' Trying to persuade George to do something he didn't want to was like talking to a brick wall.

"Great," Hermione smiled, "so we will meet here at eight tomorrow morning then?"

Fred nodded his head and was left standing in an empty room. It appeared Hermione was another of those people not easily deterred once her mind was made up. He sighed. So if convincing George to become a Potions master just because was out of the question, maybe he could bribe him? After all, Hermione had convinced him to become a Spellcrafter by informing him of the perks. Surely there were some benefits to being a Potions master.

Shouldering his bag, he headed out of the room. After glancing briefly out the fawn tapestry to make sure there was no oncoming traffic, he made a beeline for the dungeons. Who better to know about what it was like to be a Potions master than one?

As he approached Snape's office he was just breaking down the final part of a node in his head. It was a good thing Snape had office hours until dinner on Friday; he had another fifteen minutes to talk to the bat and figure out what he was going to say to George.

He rapped on the door and waited for the barked "Enter" before swinging it open.

When Snape looked up from his desk his brow furrowed, "Mr. Weasley, if you are here to volunteer yourself for detention, the bat spleens are in the cupboard." He pointed one long spindly finger at the supply cupboard.

"Pardon?" he asked.

"You are aware, of course, that today was career counseling. A task that had to be rescheduled in Slytherin house." Snape walked towards him, trying to intimidate him with his extra two inches height. He sneered, "Any idea why that my be?"

Fred realized belatedly that coming down here when Snape was pissed may have been a bad idea. But leaving now would just prove his guilt. "No sir," he said, "but I was hoping you could give me some career advice."

"Indeed," Snape raised a brow, "I was hoping you could get expelled. Alas, it appears my dream remains unfulfilled."

Realizing Snape was serious, Fred pressed on regardless, "About what it takes to be a Potions master."

Snape let out a humorless chuckle, "Mr. Weasley-"

Fred was having flashbacks to McGonagall's office this morning, "Not for me, for George."

Snape sneered, "George Weasley is one of the most inept brewers to currently grace this castle. If I had a Gallon for every cauldron he has exploded-"

"It's because he's always experimenting," Fred protested, "He's brilliant, I promise."

"Give me one example," Snape asked, arms crossed.

Fred rubbed his eyebrow, he supposed he had walked right into this one. "The Potion used on the Slytherin students today. He brewed that from scratch in a week."

Snape smirked triumphantly, "Using what baseline?"

"I don't know."

Snape frowned, "You don't know?"

"Of course not," he said, "I'm pants at Potions."

"That much is obvious," Snape snapped.

Fred shrugged, "All I know is he was excited because it used something called the Starkey Swirl."

"You expect me to believe that your buffoon brother is capable of the Starkey Swirl?" Snape scowled.

Fred frowned, "My brother is no buffoon." He could feel his magic beginning to rise with his ire.

"We'll see about that," Snape growled, "In the mean time get out of my office before I have you in detention from here to the end of the year."

"You can't do that!" Fred protested.

"I think the other teachers will agree I'm being quite lenient when I told them you trashed my office." Snape leered.

Fred started. One look at Snape's office told the story. It was trashed. Papers were everywhere, vials on the floor, and foul colored liquids mixed with each other creating noxious fumes. When had that happened? How had he not noticed? Was he that out of control? "It was magical bleed out!" he protested.

"You're a fifth year Weasley," Snape invaded his personal space and berated him, "If you are having that much bleed than you are better of to turn yourself into EVAC now and do us all a favor. Now get out!"

As he left the office the magnitude of that bad idea washed over him. He had just admitted a prank to Snape. He was still no closer to knowing anything about being a Potions master. Not to mention he had ratted George out. He was pretty sure that went against the twin code. He was loosing control of his magic. Voldemort was alive and most likely going to try and kill his family. Now he had to travel through time for the next 66 days to find some spell to kill an immortal Dark Lord. Not to mention his maniac follower who waltzed in and out of Hogwarts and Azkaban like they were fireplaces. It was official: fifth year sucked.

A/N: Still looking for a Second Beta. PM me if interested.

A/N2: Thanks for all the reviews. I had varied comments on the Chapter length. I already have plans for over 50 Chapters. Ergo, if I break that up we might be here forever. I'm going to try and post one longer Chapter once a week. If you don't like the length... pause reading and come back later?