Chapter Five

"Hey, where were you guys at dinner yesterday?" asked Ginny, taking a seat next to her youngest brother. Ron gave her a nod as he continued shovelling food down his throat, earning an eye roll from Hermione.

"Oh, I was doing some research for my Ancient Runes paper and I asked the boys to help me," she lied quickly and both Harry and Ron nodded their heads accordingly.

"I see," said Ginny, in a tone that suggested she wasn't entirely convinced. She pressed further, not letting the subject drop. "And why exactly did you have to do it during dinner yesterday? You don't have Ancient Runes until tomorrow morning, and seeing as it's Sunday, you would have had all day to do it."

Caught in her lie, Hermione paused, unsure of what to say next. Thankfully, Harry was quick to step in and smooth things over. Years of lying to the Dursley's had given him a certain expertise that the rest of them hadn't quite mastered yet.

"Well, you see, as brilliant as Hermione is, even she isn't perfect. She wrote the paper weeks in advance only to realise during our Quidditch practice yesterday that she had wrote it on the wrong topic!" Harry put his hands on his mouth in a gesture of shock, which if you asked Ron, sold the lie perfectly. It was the little details that really went a long way.

"So, once practice was over, she dragged us to the library where we promised to stay until she finished. That being said, she wasn't done until after dinner, and you know Hermione. She doesn't like leaving things unfinished." Ginny nodded, accepting Harry's story with ease.

"I must have written the wrong homework in my planner," said Hermione, begrudgingly. Ron noticed that her grip on her fork tightened as she ate her eggs. Just the idea of doing the wrong homework seemed to have unnerved her.

"Happens all the time," Ginny said, waving a hand dismissively. She reached for her mug of hot chocolate and asked Harry questions about the upcoming Quidditch match. Ron promptly zoned out, too focused on his food to notice the blaring chemistry between his little sister and best friend, as well as the intense stare off between Hermione and Lavender Brown.

Instead, he looked over to the head table, where he met the watchful eyes of Professor Snape, eyeing him with a scowl. Not just him, Harry and Hermione too. Ron gulped, unsure of what to make of this.

"Is it just me, or does Snape look like he wants to use us potion ingredients?" he asked his friends, unknowingly ending Harry's flirtatious discussion with Ginny and Hermione's unspoken battle with Lavender (which she won, by the way).

Harry, Hermione, and Ginny stole furtive glances at Snape before shuddering and looking away.

"He looks more constipated than usual," observed Harry.

"Did you see his nostrils flaring, or did I just imagine that?" asked Hermione. "I haven't seen that deranged expression on his face since the Padfoot incident in third year."

"Nope, they were definitely flaring," confirmed Ginny, with another shudder. "I think I'm going to have nightmares after this. What on earth did you three do to make him this mad?"

"Exist," said Harry plainly, to which Ron snorted. It wasn't exactly a lie. They may have angered Snape last night with rock-cake-gate, but then again, Snape always looked constipated at the mere sight of Harry alone.

Before they could dwell any further on this, the owls arrived, clutching all sorts of letters and parcels. Hedwig swooped towards them, holding a letter in her beak and a parcel strapped to her leg. She dropped the parcel in Harry's lap and the letter on Ron's plate. Ron fed her a strip of bacon as Harry unwrapped his parcel, containing a brand new copy of Advanced Potion Making. Ron was pretty sure he heard Hermione mutter 'Finally' under her breath.

Next, he opened up his letter, which to his delight was from Fred and George. George's scrawly handwriting read;

Dear Ickle Ronniekins,

Business is absolutely booming!

Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes is currently the number one joke shop in all of Britain, can you believe that? The nosebleed nougats are selling out like there's no tomorrow, and the Patented Daydream Charms seem to be a massive hit amongst the ladies (ask Hermione if she's used hers yet, we're dying to know).

And mum never thought we could do it - take that mum!

But enough about us, how are things at Hogwarts? Is Harry still being broody? Hermione still a know-it-all? Ginny still dating what's-his-name? The letter you sent us a few days ago was very vague and certainly made us curious. We'd love to meet you guys on Sunday at the Three Broomsticks, around one o'clock. The lunch time rush is the best time to have a surreptitious meeting, that way no one can eavesdrop.

Be there or be square!

- Fred & George

P.S. Phlegm says hello to Harry

Ron looked up from his letter with a smirk. After Ginny left with Dean, he let his friends read it.

"Looks like we're meeting Fred and George today."

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The wind was chilly as the trio hurried along the streets. Catching sight of Professor Slughorn, they quickened their pace. After breaking into his office last night, they felt a strange sense of guilt every time they saw the plump professor, to the point where they had to avoid him. There was a reason they weren't Slytherins - their poker faces just weren't good enough. Merlin knew how they would act in his class tomorrow without giving up the game.

The streets were fairly empty and so they made it to the Three Broomsticks with no fuss. Once they entered, Ron looked around for his twin brothers.

"Ron, Harry, Hermione! Over here!"

They turned to see Fred standing up as he beckoned them over to his table, where George was sitting, with five bottles of Butterbeer in front of him. Taking their seats, Ron gratefully took a swig from his bottle, feeling the sugary warmth spread over him.

"So," said George happily, "what can we do for you? It's not every day that our three favourite Gryffindors ask for our assistance, is it Fred?"

"Certainly not, George," replied Fred, leaning back in his chair with his arms behind his head. "You've definitely piqued out interest with that letter of yours. I didn't know you were a man of such mystery, Ronnie."

Ron rolled his eyes, on the verge of saying something that would likely offend his brothers, when Hermione had kicked his leg from under the table and rendered him silent. Harry took this window of opportunity to tell them all about Operation: How To Catch A Ferret (well, the heavily edited version, of course).

"And that's why we need your help to distract Pansy and get a sample of her hair."

George held up a hand. "Wait," he said, "let me get this straight. You want Hermione to disguise herself as Pansy Parkinson, get her in trouble and land her detention, all because she was a part of the inquisitorial squad last year?"

Huh, Ron thought. When they said it aloud, it really did sound dumb. Maybe they should have thought of a better excuse. Much to his shock, George simply chuckled at this. "I think that's a marvellous idea! Very unique. 10/10 for the creativity."

Fred joined in. "I love it! Please tell me you've got plans for the other members of the slimy Slytherin squad too. They made everyone's lives hell last year."

"Of course we do," said Harry. "We plan on doing the same thing to Crabbe and Goyle. As for Malfoy, we have much bigger plans for him."

"Ooo, fascinating."

"All this plotting against the Slytherins is suddenly making me miss Hogwarts. Like that one time I hit a bludger right at Flint's face. Ah, good times."

Before they could go further off track, Hermione decided it was a good time as any to add her input.

"Back to business, we need your help creating a distraction," she said, absently drumming her fingers on the table as she spoke. "Something that can keep Pansy away while I impersonate her. There has to be something in that shop of yours that can help".

Fred considered this for a moment, the corners of his mouth turning upwards in amusement. "Oh, there us. Remember that bottle of Patented Daydream Charms that i gave you?"

Hermione nodded slowly, her cheeks reddening slightly.

"Well, just get the House Elves to spike her evening goblet with it and she'd be preoccupied for an hour, if you know what I mean," he finished with a wink.

Ron thought this was a marvellous idea. Dobby would do anything Harry asked, but judging from the look on Hermione's face, she believed otherwise.

"Honestly, you two," she said, rolling her eyes at the twins. "If you weren't so resourceful, you'd be the last people I'd ask for help. We simply can't ask the House Elves to do that! It's bad enough they're not getting paid – or treated fairly – and now you expect us to rope them into all this!"

"Here we go again," muttered Harry, under his breath. He, like Ron, must have been thinking about S.P.E.W and Hermione's unwavering persistence to 'free' the house-elves (none of whom actually wanted said freedom). It seemed Dobby, however, was the mere exception, continually cheering Hermione on and encouraging her to continue the outlandish movement.

"Did you hear that, George?" asked Fred, cupping his ears dramatically.

"Sure did, Fred. Hermione just called us resourceful," answered George, in mock awe. "We did it! We finally got her approval."

Groaning in annoyance, Hermione put her face in her hands. Ron leaned over and patted her head soothingly. Her hair was so soft, which surprised him. It always looked like a bird's nest that he thought it would be as rough as one. He thought back to the night of their Yule Ball in fourth year and recalled how silky her hair looked. Though they weren't exactly talking that night, Ron had been tempted to run his hands through her hair, but constantly refrained from doing so. Maybe if they had another party of sorts, he would finally man up and ask her to be his date. He smiled at the thought.

"Alright, we're just messing with you, Hermione. We really do have another idea," said George, pulling Ron out of his musings. "Though if this fails, you can always use the Patented Daydream Charm as a fail-safe measure."

Ron really was starting to wonder what their obsession with that potion was.

"Enlighten us," said Harry, playing with his bottle of Butterbeer. "We want to strike as soon as possible."

"Well..." began Fred.

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After a very interesting exchange of ideas, the conversation eventually turned into a catch-up session.

"And good ol' Fleur's been driving mum crazy – oh hey, Dung!" Fred waved at Mundungus Fletcher, a bandy-legged man with long straggly ginger hair.

"Oh, 'ello, children," he said, trying to sound haughty but failing miserably. Ron noticed he was carrying an ancient suitcase with him, which looked as if it was going to bulge open at any moment.

Mundungus claimed the empty seat next to Harry, who appeared nauseous by the close proximity. It must have been the stench. Mundungus always stank.

"Fancy buyin' one of me products?" he asked, opening his suitcase. "There's plenty to go 'round."

"No, thank you," answered Hermione, as politely as possible. Harry nodded fervently in agreement. Fred and George, however, sneaked a peek into the suitcase, analysing the contents with interest.

"What's on offer, Dung?" asked George.

Mundungus smiled, showcasing every bit of crooked teeth that would have made Hermione's parents disgusted. Judging by her own frown, she was just as disgusted. He opened the suitcase and pulled out an assortment of grubby-looking objects.

"I got all sorts," he said, looking rather proud of himself for collecting a heap of junk. He promptly showed them a broken necklace, a set of fine china (which Ron had no idea how he got his grubby hands on) and a set of mirrors. He noticed Harry eye the mirrors in interest, recognition flashing in his eyes.

Mundungus also seemed to notice Harry's curious gaze. "It's a set of three-way callin' mirrors," he explained. "If you gotta communicate with someone when you're not together, it'll let ya."

So that's why it looks familiar, Ron realised. Sirius had given Harry a similar set last Christmas, to communicate with one another while they were at Hogwarts. Harry looked as if he had just swallowed a niffler.

"H-How much?" Harry asked, pointing to the mirrors.

Mundungus flashed a toothy grin. "A galleon. Per mirror."

Crafty man. It certainly wasn't worth that much.

Nevertheless, Harry was determined. He pulled three galleons out of his pocket and set it in front of Mundungus.

"I'll take the lot."

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To say Draco was confused was an understatement.

He was down-right flabbergasted, unsure what to make of anything.

Professor Snape had instructed the class to divide into pairs in order to work on their non-verbal spellcasting, and before he knew it, Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle had all been taken.

Now normally, Draco didn't consider himself to be a possessive person, he allowed his friends to have other friends and allowed Pansy to talk to other guys (as long as it was just talking), but this didn't fit into either criteria. He continued to gaze in utter astonishment at the scene in front of him.

No, this was a total anomaly.

"Come on, Pansy. Lighten up. You work on your shielding while I attempt a non-verbal jinx," Hermione Granger, of all people, told Pansy with an overly-sweet smile. Pansy, like her boyfriend, was speechless. Granger must have interpreted her silence as shyness and steered Pansy into a quiet corner, away from all the speculating eyes in the room.

Draco's gaze landed onto Potter, who had a arm draped across Goyle, chattering away as if they were lifelong best friends. "Don't worry, buddy. It's not as hard as it looks. You'll get the hang of it soon!"

Goyle, like the dumb buffoon he was, nodded at every word Potter said. Draco felt like he was going to be sick. What in Merlin's name was going on? Finally, his eyes roamed over to where Weasley was situated, in a dueling stance against Crabbe.

At least they look like the sworn enemies they are, Draco thought. But alas, before he could even blink, Weasley gave Crabbe a high-five that the oaf sloppily returned. "Not bad, Crabbe. Not bad at all. There's definitely room for improvement, but don't worry, we'll get there."

"What the actual hell?" asked Blaise, standing beside him. He too wore an expression of pure bewilderment.

"I honestly have no idea," said Draco with a frown.

Just then, Professor Snape, who was walking around the room spectating everyone's performance, came marching over to them.

"Mr Zabini, Mr Malfoy, I do believe I've asked you to get on with the task," he said, colder than usual.

"But Professor," said Blaise, pointing at Potter and his friends. "Look!"

Snape's eyes followed in the direction Blaise's finger landed. "What am I looking at?"

"Potter and his friends," replied Draco. "They're up to something, Sir. I know it."

Snape didn't respond. Instead, he frowned, as if he too came to that very conclusion. His words, however, contradicted his expression. "I don't see anything the matter with it. I've instructed everyone to pair up and so they have. Now get on with the task at hand or I'll be forced to take points from Slytherin," he said, clenching his jaw as if he were forcing the words to come out his mouth. He stormed off before Draco could say much else.

"Come on, man. Let's just get this over with," said Blaise, getting his wand ready as he got into the proper stance.

Draco was too distracted to focus on the task, but relented nonetheless. Blaise was quick to fire a non-verbal impediment jinx at him, but Draco was busy analysing Potter's movements to block it with a shield. As a result, his movements became slower and it felt as if his brain was too quick for his body. Within ten seconds, the jinx wore off and Draco's body finally caught up to his mind and he fell to the ground.

After a trying lesson where Draco's lack of focus continued to backfire on him, class was finally dismissed. Walking past Potter and his friends, he was almost out of the door when he heard Granger say, "I've managed to get it. What about you guys?"

"Yeah,

I have too."

He heard Potter and Weasley chorus before sauntering out of the room. Draco's eyebrows furrowed, wondering what they were talking about. He suspected it had something to do with his friends and girlfriend, why else would the annoying trio partner up with them?

Pulling his bag from the floor and slinging it over his shoulder, he decided it was time to do some digging of his own. Right after he finished fixing the Vanishing Cabinet, that is.

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