"But why haven't you got Occlumency lessons anymore?" asked Hermione, frowning.
"I've told you," Harry muttered. "Snape reckons I can carry on by myself now that I've got the basics."
"So you've stopped having those dreams?" Hermione asked skeptically.
"Pretty much," Harry replied, though Hermione noticed he wouldn't look her in the eye.
"Well, I don't think Snape should stop until you're absolutely sure you can control them," said Hermione. "Harry, I think you should go back to him and ask—"
"No," said Harry forcefully. "Just drop it, Hermione, okay?"
It was the first day of the Easter holidays, and Hermione had spent a large portion of the day drawing up revision timetables for the three of them. The mindless work was a welcomed relief from everything going on in her head. Hermione really didn't want to have to take any of the Calming Draught from Madam Pomfrey.
"Oy! This can't be right!" Ron exclaimed as Hermione handed him his timetable.
"What?!" Hermione asked, shocked.
"There's only six weeks left before OWLs?!"
"How can that come as a shock?!" Hermione demanded as she tapped each little square on Ron's timetable with her wand, causing it to flash a different colour according to its subject.
"I dunno," mumbled Ron, "there's been a lot going on."
Understatement of the year thought Hermione, but she simply pointed to the timetable again instead of commenting. "Well, there you are," she said. "If you follow that, you should do fine."
Ron looked down at it gloomily, but then his face brightened into his goofy grin. "You've given me an evening off every week?!"
"That's for Quidditch practice," said Hermione.
The grin faded from Ron's face.
"What's the point?" he said. "We've got about as much chance of winning the Quidditch Cup this year as Dad's got of becoming Minister for Magic."
Hermione couldn't stand to see him so upset. She averted her eyes towards Harry, who looked just as downcast. He stared blankly at the opposite wall of the common room while Crookshanks pawed at his hand, trying to get his ears scratched.
"What's wrong, Harry?"
"What?" he said quickly. "Nothing."
She watched as he grabbed his copy of Defensive Magical Theory and pretended to look something up in the index. Unfortunately for Harry, the book was upside down, though he didn't seem to notice. Maybe her friend was having problems with the heart just like she was?
"I saw Cho earlier," said Hermione tentatively. "She looked really miserable, too… have you two had a row again?"
"Wha—oh yeah, we have," said Harry.
"What about?"
"That sneak friend of hers, Marietta," said Harry.
"Yeah, well, I don't blame you!" said Ron angrily, setting down his revision timetable. "If it hadn't been for her…"
Ron let the thought hang in the air for a moment. Hermione was just about to ask Harry a follow-up question when Ron launched into a full-on rant about Marietta. "That two-faced, ruddy snake! I mean, what a complete and utter prat she is! We've got enough on our plates without her dobbing us into Umbridge, that toad-faced old bat! Honestly! 'Sneak' written all over her mug serves her right, I say. Bet she's feeling right brassed off now, isn't she? Good! She deserves it, the cow!"
He was pacing back and forth, his ears turning red with fury. "She's nothing but a daft git, stabbing us in the back like that. I can't believe Cho's mates with her, what's she thinking? Bloody hell, we were just trying to learn how to defend ourselves! And now we're in deep trouble, all because that bloody git couldn't keep her trap shut. I swear, if I see her again, I might just hex her myself!"
Ron paused, standing in front of Hermione and Harry as if waiting for a reply. Hermione tried to remember if there was a question, but Ron continued anyway.
"And worse, she probably did it for a few extra house points or some rubbish like that! As if brown-nosing Umbridge is worth it. She's a right git, that one. I hope she's proper chuffed with herself now. Honestly, what a load of codswallop!"
He finally stopped pacing and plopped himself down, still fuming.
"Are you quite finished?" Hermione asked after a few minutes of his quiet stewing.
"Maybe," Ron said. "I dunno. I'm just really mad about it all."
"I had no idea," Hermione said, rolling her eyes.
Ron looked at her with his head cocked sideways, apparently not recognising the sarcasm lacing her words.
"Never mind," Hermione chuckled and returned to her revision timetable. If she could stick to it, she was reasonably certain she'd be able to make up some lost studying time. The next six weeks would be extremely difficult, even if she got ahead during the Easter holiday.
As though to underline the importance of their upcoming examinations, a batch of pamphlets, leaflets, and notices concerning various wizarding careers appeared on the tables in Gryffindor Tower shortly before the end of the holidays, along with yet another notice on the board, which read:
CAREERS ADVICE
All fifth-years are required to attend a short meeting with their Head of House during the first week of the summer term to discuss their future careers.
Times of individual appointments are listed below.
Hermione looked down the list and found she was expected to be in Professor McGonagall's office first thing Monday morning. She and the other fifth-years spent a considerable part of the final weekend of the Easter break reading all the career information that had been left out for their perusal.
"Well, I don't fancy Healing," said Ron on the last evening of the holidays. He was immersed in a leaflet that carried the crossed bone-and-wand emblem of St Mungo's on its front. "It says here you need at least an 'E' at NEWT level in Potions, Herbology, Transfiguration, Charms, and Defense Against the Dark Arts. I mean… blimey… don't want much, do they?"
"Well, it's a very responsible job, isn't it?" said Hermione absently. She had been looking over a bright pink and orange leaflet that read, "SO YOU THINK YOU'D LIKE TO WORK IN MUGGLE RELATIONS?" Hermione was, frankly, surprised Umbridge had let this pamphlet in the school. "You don't seem to need many qualifications to liaise with Muggles; all they want is an OWL in Muggle Studies. Much more important is your enthusiasm, patience, and a good sense of fun!"
"You'd need more than a good sense of fun to liaise with my uncle," Harry said darkly. "Good sense of when to duck, more like."
They all went back to sorting through the pamphlets. A few minutes later, Harry spoke up again. "Listen to this: 'Are you seeking a challenging career involving travel, adventure, and substantial, danger-related treasure bonuses? Then consider a position with Gringotts Wizarding Bank, who are currently recruiting Curse-Breakers for thrilling opportunities abroad…' They want Arithmancy, though; you could do it, Hermione!"
"I don't much fancy banking," said Hermione vaguely, now immersed in: "HAVE YOU GOT WHAT IT TAKES TO TRAIN SECURITY TROLLS?"
Fred and George plopped down next to Harry, whispering something to him. Hermione wouldn't have paid them any attention, but then she heard them mention Ginny and her ears perked up.
"Ginny's had a word with us about you," said Fred. "She says you need to talk to Sirius."
"What?!" said Hermione sharply, freezing with her hand halfway toward picking up "MAKE A BANG AT THE DEPARTMENT OF MAGICAL ACCIDENTS AND CATASTROPHES."
"Yeah," said Harry, "yeah, I thought I'd like—"
"Don't be so ridiculous," Hermione said, straightening up and looking him hard in the eye. "With Umbridge groping around in the fires and frisking all of the owls?"
"Well, we think we can find a way around that," said George, stretching and smiling. "It's a simple matter of causing a diversion. Now, you might have noticed that we have been rather quiet on the mayhem front during the Easter holidays?"
"What was the point, we asked ourselves, of disrupting leisure time?" continued Fred. "No point at all, we answered ourselves. And, of course, we'd have messed up people's revision too, which would be the very last thing we'd want to do."
He gave Hermione a sanctimonious nod. His thoughtfulness rather took her aback.
"But," Fred continued briskly, "it's business as usual from tomorrow… and if we're going to be causing a bit of uproar, why not do it so that Harry can have his chat with Sirius?"
"Yes, but still," said Hermione, not believing they could be so thickheaded. "Even if you do cause a diversion, how is Harry supposed to talk to him?"
"Umbridge's office," said Harry quietly.
"Are—you—insane?" said Hermione in a hushed voice. In her head, she was trying to figure out why Harry would need to talk to Sirius this desperately. It couldn't be Cho, could it? There had to be something else… Surely Harry wasn't this dim.
"I don't think so," said Harry, shrugging.
"And how are you going to get in there in the first place?"
"Sirius's knife," he said.
"Excuse me?"
"Christmas before last, Sirius gave me a knife that'll open any lock," said Harry. "So, even if she's bewitched the door so 'Alohomora' won't work, which I bet she has—"
"What do you think about this?" Hermione demanded of Ron, who she noticed had been suspiciously silent throughout the whole conversation.
"I dunno," said Ron, alarmed at being asked to give an opinion. "If Harry wants to do it, it's up to him, isn't it?"
"Spoken like a true friend and Weasley," said Fred, clapping Ron hard on the back. "Right, then. We're thinking of doing it tomorrow, just after lessons, because it should cause maximum impact if everybody's in the corridors—Harry, we'll set it off in the east wing somewhere, draw her away from her own office—I reckon we should be able to guarantee you, what, twenty minutes?" he said, looking at George.
"Easy," said George.
"What sort of diversion is it?" asked Ron.
"You'll see, little bro," said Fred as he and George got up again. "At least, you will if you trot along to Gregory the Smarmy's corridor round about five o'clock tomorrow."
Hermione closed her eyes with annoyance, unsurprised that Harry James Potter was planning to do another stupid and risky exploit.
The next morning, Hermione woke up earlier than usual to prepare for her career advice counselling session with Professor McGonagall. She was eager to discuss her future and excited to spend one-on-one time with her favourite professor. Hermione hoped she wasn't scheduled right before anyone else so they'd have more time to catch up.
As she approached the heavy door to Professor McGonagall's office, Hermione knocked softly. The door opened almost immediately, revealing the Transfiguration professor seated at her desk, a small breakfast spread laid out before her.
"Good morning, Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall greeted her warmly. "Please, take a seat."
"Good morning, Professor," Hermione replied with a smile, sitting across from her.
"I hope you don't mind meeting at such an early hour," said Professor McGonagall. "I thought we'd have more time to talk over a light breakfast."
"Oh, not at all," Hermione said, pouring herself a cup of tea.
"Professor Umbridge aside," Professor McGonagall said while pouring her own cup, "how has your year been? Fifth years can be incredibly difficult."
"It certainly is, but I feel as though I was somewhat prepared during my third year with the Time-Turner," Hermione said.
"Ah, yes," Professor McGonagall chuckled. "That was quite the year as well."
"And your year, Professor?" Hermione asked, her curiosity evident.
"I'm sure you can surmise that this has not been my favourite year as a Professor at Hogwarts, just as I am sure it is not your favourite year as a student."
"Is there anything more we can do?" Hermione asked earnestly.
Professor McGonagall sighed as she buttered her toast. "I assure you, Miss Granger, many of us are working behind the scenes to resist her influence as best we can. I believe, however, you'd do well to stay off the radar and convince your friends to do the same… at least for now. With Dumbledore gone, she has more control than ever, and she will be drunk with it, I'm afraid."
Hermione nodded solemnly. "Understood."
Professor McGonagall lowered her voice, even though they were alone in her office. "I was proud to hear of your group's efforts. It's admirable, truly. However, I must ask: why the 'sneak' jinx?"
Hermione flushed slightly. "I thought it was necessary, Professor. We needed a way to ensure secrecy, and I figured if anyone betrayed us, they should face the consequences."
McGonagall raised an eyebrow but didn't seem entirely disapproving. "A rather inventive solution, Miss Granger, though perhaps a tad extreme. Nevertheless, I understand your reasoning. Just be cautious. We wouldn't want to draw even more attention from Umbridge."
"I will, Professor," Hermione promised, relieved that McGonagall wasn't too angry. "Thank you."
Professor McGonagall nodded and straightened a stack of parchment on her desk. "Now, to the matter at hand. Your career advice. Have you given any thought to what you might like to pursue after Hogwarts?"
Hermione's eyes lit up with enthusiasm. "Yes, Professor. I've been considering several options. I'm very interested in becoming a Healer or maybe working in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. I've also considered magical law, especially after everything with the house elves. And, of course, I'd love to be a teacher someday, perhaps at Hogwarts."
McGonagall smiled approvingly, her gaze warm and encouraging. "All excellent choices, Miss Granger. You have the intellect and determination to excel in any of those fields."
"Thank you, Professor," Hermione said, her heart swelling with gratitude and resolve. The professor's confidence in her abilities bolstered her determination to succeed. "I won't let you down."
"I'm certain you won't," McGonagall replied warmly, her eyes twinkling behind her square spectacles. "In fact, I've thought of a few other options that might interest you if you don't mind humouring me."
"Of course!" Hermione leaned forward, eager to hear more.
McGonagall reached for a scroll of parchment and unrolled it carefully. "I've taken the liberty of making a list," she said, glancing over it. "You've already mentioned Healer, Magical Law, and Professor, which I have noted here. However, there are a few more that I thought you might find intriguing, especially since you grew up outside the Wizarding World. For instance, have you considered becoming a Spell Inventor?"
Hermione blinked in surprise. "No, I've never heard of that!"
"With your acuity in Arithmancy, I thought perhaps you may have," McGonagall explained, her tone gentle but informative. "A Spell Inventor is a highly skilled and creative witch or wizard specialising in developing new spells. This career requires an extensive knowledge of magical theory, spell mechanics, and a deep understanding of the magical properties of various substances and incantations. Spell inventors often work independently or for organisations like the Ministry of Magic, particularly in the Department of Magical Research. You may have heard of Miranda Goshawk or Wilbert Slinkhard; they are two of the most famous Spell Inventors, but there are always a good handful at the Ministry at any given time."
"That sounds absolutely brilliant!" Hermione exclaimed, her mind already racing with the possibilities. The idea of creating something entirely new, something that could help people or advance magical knowledge, was immensely appealing.
Professor McGonagall smiled at her enthusiasm. "OWL requirements for this career include Potions, Charms, Transfiguration, Defence Against the Dark Arts, and Arithmancy," she read from the list. "To pursue this career, you'll need Outstanding or Exceeds Expectations in Charms, Transfiguration, and Potions at NEWT level. Additional NEWTs in Defense Against the Dark Arts and Arithmancy are highly beneficial."
"And then what happens? Is there additional schooling after Hogwarts?" Hermione asked, her curiosity piqued.
"Many Spell Inventors start their careers with an apprenticeship under an experienced inventor or by working in magical research departments," McGonagall explained. "Gaining practical experience and building a reputation for innovative and safe spell creation is crucial. It's a demanding field, but I do not doubt you would excel if you pursued it."
"Oh yes, please do," Hermione said eagerly. She could feel her face flush with excitement as she imagined herself immersed in the complex and creative world of spell invention.
Professor McGonagall nodded, clearly pleased with Hermione's interest. "Next on my list is another career you might find interesting: Magical Theory Researcher. They tend to be highly knowledgeable and analytical witches or wizards dedicated to studying the principles and laws governing magic. This career involves conducting theoretical research to deepen the understanding of how magic works and can lead to the development of new spells, potions, and magical devices. Researchers in magical theory often work for academic institutions or specialised departments within the Ministry of Magic."
"Pardon my ignorance," Hermione said slowly, trying to calm her excitement and remain level-headed, "but what is the difference between a Magical Theory Researcher and a Spell Inventor?"
"That's far from an ignorant question, Miss Granger; quite the contrary," Professor McGonagall said, putting her list down and sipping her tea. "To put it succinctly, Spell Inventors are like magical engineers, applying theoretical knowledge to create new tools and spells. On the other hand, researchers in Magical Theory are more like scientists, seeking to uncover the underlying principles that make those tools and spells possible."
Hermione looked up, a thoughtful expression on her face. "So, a Spell Inventor might create a new charm to, say, enhance the durability of fabrics, while a Researcher in Magical Theory might investigate why certain materials respond better to enchanting than others?"
"Precisely," McGonagall affirmed, smiling with approval. "Both careers require a strong foundation in magical education but cater to different strengths and interests. If you enjoy hands-on creation and experimentation, Spell Inventing might be more suited to you. If you are fascinated by the why and how of magic, a career in Magical Theory could be immensely gratifying."
"Thank you, Professor," Hermione said, her mind racing with possibilities.
"A few others I have on my list that take your skills into consideration are an Ambassador at the Department of International Magical Cooperation, Journalist, Magical Transportation proctor, and Magical Archeologist, but I think the others suit you much better."
Hermione nodded thoughtfully, considering the possibilities. "Yes, I am much more interested in the others," she said. "Thank you, Professor, for taking the time to think about my future like this."
"Of course, Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall said, her tone warm but firm. "You, unlike most other students, have the capability to excel in whichever field you choose. Your dedication and academic excellence have given you a unique advantage—no grade-related obstacles are standing in your way. The only challenge for you will be deciding which path excites you the most."
Hermione felt a surge of pride at McGonagall's words and a weight of responsibility. Having so many doors open to her was one thing, but it was another to decide which one to walk through. "I'll do my best, Professor," Hermione whispered, her voice tight with emotion.
"And remember, I am here as a resource for you," Professor McGonagall continued, her voice softening as she placed a reassuring hand on Hermione's. "I've grown very fond of you over the years, Hermione. I am genuinely interested in your future and always here to help guide you."
Hermione nodded, unable to speak. The kindness in McGonagall's eyes, combined with the weight of her words, made her feel more secure in her future choices but also brought tears to her eyes. She knew her voice would break if she tried to say anything. Instead, she squeezed McGonagall's hand in gratitude.
Hermione's mind was a whirl of thoughts and emotions as she left Professor McGonagall's office. The conversation had left her feeling exhilarated, her head buzzing with possibilities. For the first time in what seemed like ages, she felt a genuine sense of hope and optimism about the future. She spent the rest of the morning replaying McGonagall's words in her head, her cheeks aching from smiling so much. By the time she reached History of Magic, she was so absorbed in her thoughts that she barely registered Professor Binns's monotonous drone.
However, all that hope and optimism came crashing down when she saw Harry in Defence Against the Dark Arts later that day. The reality of his reckless plan to sneak into Umbridge's office hit her with full force, replacing her earlier excitement with a gnawing sense of dread.
"I hope you've thought better of what you were planning to do, Harry," Hermione whispered the moment they had opened their books to 'Chapter Thirty-Four: Non-Retaliation and Negotiation.' "Umbridge looks like she's in a really bad mood already…"
Harry glanced up at Umbridge, his face a mask of grim determination. Hermione watched him carefully, hoping to see some sign of hesitation, some indication that he was reconsidering. But the more she observed him, the more she realised that Harry had made up his mind. His jaw was set, his eyes dark and defiant as he stared at Umbridge with barely concealed anger.
"Dumbledore sacrificed himself to keep you in school, Harry!" she reminded him, raising her book to hide her face from Umbridge's prying eyes. "And if you get thrown out today, it will all have been for nothing!"
But Harry remained silent, his expression unyielding. Hermione's heart sank as she realised that her words were falling on deaf ears. She glanced over at Ron, hoping he would back her up, but he, too, seemed resolved to let Harry make his own decision.
"Give it a rest, okay? He can make up his own mind," Ron said quietly, his voice edged with frustration.
Hermione's heart was pounding as they left the classroom. They were halfway along the corridor outside when she heard the unmistakable sounds of chaos erupting in the distance. Screams and yells reverberated through the halls, and students began pouring out of classrooms, their faces filled with a mixture of fear and excitement.
Suddenly, Umbridge came storming out of her classroom, her squat figure moving with surprising speed as she pulled out her wand and rushed off in the opposite direction. Hermione's heart leapt into her throat. She knew this was the diversion that Fred and George had planned. She looked at Harry, her eyes wide with desperation.
"Harry - please!" she pleaded weakly, tears welling in her eyes. She could feel the weight of everything crashing down on her, the enormity of the risk he was about to take.
But Harry had already made his decision. Without a word, he hitched his bag onto his shoulder and took off at a run through the throng of students.
"Damnit!" Hermione cried out, her voice choked with frustration and fear.
"We may as well go see the show," Ron said somberly, his expression dark. "We can't do anything for him now."
The chaos was easy to track. As they reached the corridor where the noise originated, they were met with utter pandemonium. Fred and George had transformed the usually pristine hallway into a massive, bubbling swamp. Thick, greenish water covered the floor, with reeds and lily pads floating atop it. Students waded through the muck, laughing and shrieking as they tried to avoid the Stinksap traps hidden beneath the surface.
"Look at this mess!" Hermione exclaimed, though there was a hint of admiration in her voice. It was awe-inspiring magic, even by Fred and George's standards.
The scene before them was a spectacle of chaos and creativity. The swamp that had once been a pristine corridor stretched across the hallway, bubbling with thick, greenish water. Reeds and lily pads floated atop the surface while the occasional burst of Stinksap erupted from hidden traps, splattering the walls and the unfortunate students who ventured too close. The air was thick with the pungent smell of Stinksap, mingling with the faint scent of burning from the fireworks that still crackled and popped overhead.
Umbridge stood at the swamp's edge, her usually pink robes now splattered with mud and Stinksap. Her face was a picture of rage, her eyes bulging with fury as she barked orders at anyone who would listen. But her voice, usually so shrill and commanding, was nearly drowned out by the din of students laughing and cheering and the occasional explosion from Fred and George's enchanted fireworks.
"Filch!" Umbridge screamed, her voice hoarse with rage. "Get that approval form for whipping! I want those Weasleys punished!"
Ron and Hermione exchanged a look of horror. Filch, practically skipping with glee, was already heading towards his office, clutching a piece of parchment like a treasure map. His eyes gleamed, anticipating finally getting to use the whips he had long coveted.
"We've got to stop him," Ron muttered, but before they could take any action, they were momentarily distracted by a new wave of chaos. Fred and George had launched another barrage of fireworks into the swamp. The sky above the corridor lit up with bright, colourful sparks, creating a dazzling display that had students cheering even louder.
"This way!" George called to Fred as they dodged a Stunning Spell cast by an Inquisitorial Squad member. The twins moved with the agility of Quidditch players, weaving through the chaos with ease, their faces alight with the thrill of their rebellion.
"They're amazing," Ron said, unable to hide his admiration as the twins continued to create havoc. "Absolutely mental, but amazing."
As they watched, one of the larger fireworks exploded with a deafening bang, covering several members of the Inquisitorial Squad in a thick layer of sticky Stinksap. Draco Malfoy, his face twisted in anger and frustration, was trying to wipe the sap from his eyes, yelling incoherently as he stumbled through the muck.
"That's for all the times he's docked points from us," Ginny said, appearing beside them with a triumphant grin. Her eyes sparkled with the same mischievous energy that drove her brothers, and she seemed to take immense satisfaction in seeing Malfoy brought low by Fred and George's antics.
"We need to get closer," Hermione said, pulling them towards a side corridor where they could observe the scene without being seen. They could see the full extent of the chaos the twins had unleashed from their new vantage point. It was a masterpiece of disruption, a perfect blend of magical skill and sheer audacity.
"This is chaos," Neville said, joining them and shaking his head in disbelief. "But it's brilliant."
Ginny pointed excitedly. "Look! There's Harry!"
At precisely the same time, Ron bellowed and pointed in the opposite direction, "Bloody hell, they've cornered them!"
Hermione glanced briefly at Harry to ensure he was alright before following Ron's finger towards Fred and George. The twins stood in the middle of the floor, their wands at the ready, surrounded by members of the Inquisitorial Squad. But there was no fear in their expressions—only defiance.
"So!" said Umbridge triumphantly, striding forward with as much dignity as she could muster while covered in mud. "So—you think it amusing to turn a school corridor into a swamp, do you?"
"Pretty amusing, yeah," said Fred, looking up at her without the slightest sign of fear.
Filch elbowed his way closer to Umbridge, his excitement almost palpable. "I've got the form, Headmistress," he said hoarsely, waving the piece of parchment in the air. "I've got the form, and I've got the whips waiting… oh, let me do it now… please…"
"Very good, Argus," Umbridge said, her eyes gleaming maliciously. "You two," she went on, turning her gaze back to Fred and George, "are about to learn what happens to wrongdoers in my school."
Fred and George exchanged glances, and a mischievous smile spread across Fred's face. "You know what?" said Fred. "I don't think we are."
He turned to his twin, who was grinning just as widely.
"George," said Fred, "I think we've outgrown full-time education."
"Yeah, I've been feeling that way myself," said George lightly, as though they were discussing the weather.
"Time to test our talents in the real world, d'you reckon?" asked Fred, his tone casual.
"Definitely," said George.
Before Umbridge could utter another word, the twins raised their wands in unison and shouted, "Accio brooms!"
There was a loud crash in the distance, followed by the unmistakable sound of broomsticks hurtling through the air. Fred and George's brooms, one still trailing the heavy chain and iron peg with which Umbridge had fastened them to the wall, shot towards them like arrows. They nearly hit Harry, who ducked just in time before clattering to a stop in front of the twins.
"We won't be seeing you," Fred told Professor Umbridge, swinging his leg over his broomstick.
"Yeah, don't bother to keep in touch," said George, mounting his own broom.
Fred looked around at the assembled students, staff, and ghosts, all of whom had gathered to watch the spectacle. The tension in the air was palpable, but so was the excitement. This was more than just a prank—it was a statement.
"If anyone fancies buying a Portable Swamp, as demonstrated upstairs, come to number ninety-three, Diagon Alley—Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes!" Fred announced loudly, his voice carrying across the corridor. "Our new premises!"
"Special discounts to Hogwarts students who swear they're going to use our products to get rid of this old bat," added George, pointing directly at Professor Umbridge.
"STOP THEM!" shrieked Umbridge, her voice reaching a hysterical pitch. But it was too late. As the Inquisitorial Squad closed in, Fred and George kicked off from the floor, their brooms shooting fifteen feet into the air. The iron peg swung dangerously below Fred's broom, clattering against the stone walls as they ascended.
Fred looked across the hall at Peeves, who was bobbing in midair above the crowd, gleefully watching the chaos unfold.
"Give her hell from us, Peeves," Fred called out.
Peeves, who had never before taken an order from a student, swept his belled hat from his head and snapped to a salute. His grin was as wide as his face as he watched Fred and George wheel about in midair.
The twins hovered for a moment, taking in the scene below them—the cheering students, the furious Umbridge, the chaos they had created. Then, with a final wave, they sped out of the open front doors and into the glorious sunset, their departure marked by a thunderous round of applause from the students below.
As the sound of their brooms faded into the distance, the swamp continued to bubble and froth, a lasting reminder of their defiance. And somewhere in the heart of Hogwarts, the spirit of rebellion burned a little brighter.