Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the related characters. The Harry Potter series is created by JK Rowling. This fanfiction is intended for entertainment only. I am not making any profit from this story... Well of course I'm not...
The Easter holidays for Fred and George Weasley were a time of business. Having been so intent on handling premises for their joke shop, they had completely ignored their trouble-making careers back at Hogwarts. Fred felt guilty about being unable to continue their "grand plans", but on the other hand, exams were drawing upon his fellow students, especially the fifth and seventh years, and he regarded it against his principles to disrupt people's studying. Trouble only finds those who deserved it.
"Mundungus' written back," said George on the last evening of the holidays, "Saying that he's managed to get us a place in Diagon Alley cheap. Reckon we can get our business started in a few days' time."
"Thank him for us, will you?" said Fred, leaning against his chair in the Gryffindor common room and yawning, "Our dream, finally realized."
It was not until a few seconds later when his yawn had subsided that Fred became aware of the weight of his sentence, but it suddenly seemed apparent that if they wanted to run business in Diagon Alley, they would have to leave Hogwarts for good. And though neither Fred nor - Fred was sure of it - George felt any enthusiasm towards the place since Umbridge became Headmistress, he could not help but think about the happy memories he and George shared at this school, about the castle that they had long since called their home, and about how he would feel if he were to walk out of it and never look back... For a moment Fred remained silent, and so did George. Fred was confident that George was thinking along the same line.
"Fred, George?" a voice broke the silence between them. It was Ginny.
"What's up with you?" asked Fred, hitching back his smile almost automatically, "You rarely go to us for anything."
"I met Harry the other day in the library. The day we had our Quidditch practice," she said as George screwed up his face in an effort to remember, "And he told me he wanted to talk to Sirius."
"What!" shouted George.
"Why?" asked Fred, a sly smile on his face.
Ginny looked defiant. "I didn't ask, but he looked like he's got something on his mind. Maybe he needs someone to confide in? Anyway," she continued, looking at her brothers straight in the eye, "I thought perhaps you'd like to help. He obviously couldn't think of a way to do so."
Fred frowned. "That should be simple. You can leave it to us."
Ginny appeared to have guessed that something was wrong with her brothers but did not pursue the subject. As Ginny hurried away, George turned to Fred.
"Well, what about?"
Fred did not answer. Now that the two things had crashed onto him almost simultaneously, he found it hard not to make a connection. "Harry's our financial backup. We wouldn't be doing anything if he hadn't supported us in the first place."
"And we'll have to leave. So..."
They both nodded. Dedicating their last show of trouble-making - their "grand finale" - to Harry, who had helped them the most on their path of business, sounded reasonable. Fred felt slightly downcast as he and George got to their feet, spotting Harry with Ron and Hermoine near the fire of the common room, and strode towards them.
...
The diversion was planned on the spot. Fred and George would work something out somewhere in the East Wing, draw away Umbridge and the rest of the school, and allow Harry enough time and space to get to Umbridge's office.
This was what they had revealed. What they had not revealed were the exact methods with which they would cause the diversion. George had suggested the Swamps.
"Yeah, that'll be a good idea," whispered Fred, now in the empty dormitory, "We can do a bit of advertising now you think of it."
"And the whole school will be able to watch," said George dreamily, closing his eyes, "Just think of the effect."
Fred knew George was trying his best to hide his reluctance to leave Hogwarts in his words of joy. They had not told young Harry that this would be their denouncement show, their last bow to him and to Hogwarts. In fact, they had not told anyone else about their true plan, not even Lee Jordan. The decision to leave was settled without words, for between Fred and George, words were no longer needed for communication. But to voice it aloud to others, to actually say the words "goodbye" and "farewell", would make the matter a thousand times worse.
Fred slept badly that night. He stared through the hangings of his four-poster bed as the prospect of tomorrow's flight pressed onto him and - unless he was much mistaken - for the third time in his entire life, Fred Weasley was feeling genuinely sad about anything. *
...
"Cheers to the snack boxes!" said Fred happily as he and George sped out of the Transfiguration classroom, noses bleeding magnificently. As they swallowed down the antidotes and arrived at the corridor of the East Wing, Fred searched in his pockets and took out a small package.
"Wait," interrupted George, suddenly serious, "How are we supposed to get out of here?"
Fred froze, halfway through opening the package. They were back at the subject again.
"We cannot let that old toad expel us," said Fred, "I mean, we are leaving of course, but we won't let her make us leave."
As he uttered the word "leave", his throat went dry. Turning away from George, Fred gazed out of the windows of the corridor at the Hogwarts grounds - the lake, the Forbidden Forest, Hagrid's hut and the Quidditch pitch - all fusing into each other like a sfumato painting.
"So?" George's voice issued from behind like a hundred miles away.
"We use our brooms," Fred muttered, still staring at the goal hoops, "Remember when Lee told us he saw them in her office the last time he did detention? We use the summoning charm. That will do fine."
"You don't think she's put any protective charms around them?" asked George. Fred shook his head, "I don't bank on her brains to think of any protective charms that are worth our attention. Let's get started or we won't be able to finish before the lesson ends."
...
"So... you think it amusing to turn a school corridor into a swamp, do you?"
"Pretty amusing, yeah," said Fred, his evil grin firmly in place. He loved seeing Umbridge's furious looks whenever they had eye contact. But before Umbridge could arrange her face, Filch appeared at her side.
"I've got the form, Headmistress," said Filch in a hoarse but excited voice that nevertheless carried down the stairs of the Entrance Hall, "I've got the form and I've got the whips waiting... Oh, let me do it now..."
On hearing this, Fred and George grinned even more broadly. They both knew that time was ripe.
"Very good, Argus," they heard Umbridge say in the sickeningly sweet voice before turning to address them, "You two are about to learn what happens to wrongdoers in my school."
Fred smirked, "You know what? I don't think we are."
He turned to George. It had always been like this... for years... the tacit understanding between them that seemed almost magical. They were always meant to be two halves of the same soul.
"George, I think we've outgrown full-time education."
"Yeah, I've been feeling that way myself."
"Time to test our talents in the real world, d'you reckon?"
"Definitely!"
In the infinitesimal pause for Umbridge to take in what they had said, Fred and George raised the wands in unison and chorused, "Accio Brooms!"
They could feel them coming. They could feel their brooms shatter Umbridge's office wall. They could feel their eagerness to rejoin their masters...
And round the corners, over the heads of screaming students and right in front of Umbridge's broad, flabby face, came Fred and George's faithful brooms. They stopped neatly beside them at the perfect position to mount.
"We won't be seeing you," said Fred, one leg over his broomstick.
"Yeah, don't bother to keep in touch," said George, copying him.
"If anyone fancies buying a Portable Swamp, as demonstrated upstairs, come to number ninety-three, Diagon Alley - Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes. Our new premises!" shouted Fred to the packed crowd.
"Special discounts to Hogwarts students who swear they're going to use our products to get rid of this old bat," added George, pointing at Umbridge, who now seemed to be swelling, her toad-like face about to explode like a balloon.
"STOP THEM!"
With the unerring speed of two experienced Quidditch players, Fred and George zoomed towards the high ceiling of the Entrance Hall, ducking the Inquisitorial Squad, who shrieked and scattered with fright at the sight of their kick-off.
Now at a level of fifteen feet high, Fred cast one last look around the hall before spotting Peeves, floating along the same height as him and George.
Fred smiled widely towards Peeves, their long-lasting companion and co-trouble-maker, and said his final words to Hogwarts.
"Give her hell from us, Peeves."
The doors were wide open and, as Peeves bowed his respect, as the students from down below broke into applause, Fred turned from the Entrance Hall to the spectacular sunset.
The castle was bathed in it, the lake sparkled under its glow, and the goal hoops arced like miniature suns in the splendid orange light. Fred felt light-headed in the dusk wind. After years, and especially these long, dark months under Umbridge's tyranny, he was finally free.
Like a bullet discharging with a roar, Fred and George shot forward in a shower of applause and cheers, speeding out of the open front doors towards the blaze of freedom, disappearing into the sun's blinding flames like twin phoenixes.
...
They flew and flew, wind whipping their faces and light dazzling their eyes. They could have stopped outside the Hogwarts grounds and Disapparated, but neither of them paused until they finally landed in the streets of Diagon Alley.
Sitting down in front of number ninety-three, a shop that now bore the words "Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes", Fred said to George, "Think we've put off a great show."
"Yeah, we did!" said George happily, "Imagine Umbridge's face after we've left."
"She might return to her office to smash some of her dear kittens!"
"And imagine Filch's unused horsewhips."
"He might slap them on himself in anger, won't he?"
And the pair of them laughed and laughed in the setting sun, clapping their hands and stamping their feet. They thought they could laugh on to eternity.
Together.
Forever.
*: I count the first time as the night when Ginny was taken to the Chamber of Secrets, and the second time as the night when Mr. Weasley was attacked.
Note: This is my first time writing on , so it's a bit... Well, hope you like it!