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SIYE Time:22:02 on 28th March 2024
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Meaning of One, Part One: Stone and Fire
By Sovran

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Category: Alternate Universe
Characters:Albus Dumbledore, Harry/Ginny, Hermione Granger, Minerva McGonagall, Ron Weasley
Genres: Action/Adventure, Angst, Drama, General, Humor
Warnings: Violence
Story is Complete
Rating: R
Reviews: 1026
Summary: If two people are deliberately created to be together, how will the challenges in a world of magic and Dark Lords be dealt with? What would it mean for two people to truly become one? A re-imagination of first year.
Hitcount: Story Total: 547573; Chapter Total: 31124
Awards: View Trophy Room




Author's Notes:
Thanks, as always, to moshpit, Jonathan Avery, regdc, and Chreechree.




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The first six weeks of the new term passed relatively uneventfully for Harry, Ginny, and their friends. They now felt sure that they knew what Fluffy was guarding, but that knowledge did not point them in any particular direction. Occasionally, Harry and Ginny would put their ears to the door on the third floor to make sure that Fluffy was alive and well, but other than that they could do nothing but wonder what would happen next.

Near the end of January, Bill wrote them his first letter. While it was addressed to Ginny, Bill made several comments to Harry in the body of the letter, and they knew that her brother was making a deliberate effort to include him. Bill told them about his team’s progress in opening the tomb to which they had been assigned, and he enclosed a photograph of the pyramid built above the burial chamber. Bill asked how they were doing and what the rest of Ginny’s brothers were up to, and he encouraged them to write back as soon as they had some free time. Ginny was very pleased that her favourite brother was working on accepting them, and she wrote back and thanked Bill for the stories and photo and assured him that all was more-or-less well at Hogwarts.

In a postscript to that letter, Ginny asked Bill if he had ever encountered any enchanted mirrors, curious to find out what he might know about how they worked. Bill’s answer arrived on a Sunday during the school breakfast. Rather than reading his long explanation at the table, they waited until after the meal and took it back to their favourite sofa in the common room.

Bill said that mirrors were sometimes used in the most sophisticated tombs and that they were invariably hard to get past. Apparently mirrors always reflected something, and the trick was to find out what they really reflected. Once a wizard knew that, Bill wrote, he would know how to approach the mirror to make it reflect what he wanted it to. Unfortunately, the proper approach for most mirrors was impossible to determine. If a mirror was merely an obstacle, a skilled and powerful team could usually find a way to destroy the mirror and move past it, but if the mirror were guarding something directly, that item had to be considered lost unless the secret of the mirror could be discovered.

Isn’t that rather like what Dumbledore said? Harry asked. Something about the proper way to make the image real?

It does sound the same,
Ginny said. But it still doesn’t make very much sense.

Bill makes it sound like you have to walk up to the mirror with your fingers crossed or carrying a rooster or something.

Can’t you just picture it?
she giggled. A whole team of curse breakers hopping on one foot and waving their arms in the air in front of some old mirror?

Harry glanced at his watch. Time to go, Gin.

Ginny bounced up from the sofa and dashed upstairs to put the letter in her trunk. A minute later she was back, and the two of them left the common room and started down the stairs.

Every Sunday afternoon, they had tea with Professor McGonagall in her office. For the first few weeks, they just talked about their classes, and their Head of House answered questions about their coursework or told them interesting stories about the history of the castle. As they grew more comfortable talking, however, they spoke a bit more about all of the things that had happened over the Christmas holidays. McGonagall encouraged them to talk to her about whatever they wished and likewise to keep to themselves anything they did not want to discuss. She always made a point to remind them that whatever they did discuss with her would remain in the strictest confidence unless they gave her permission to speak of it.

As the middle of February approached, Harry and Ginny finally felt confident enough to talk about their frustrations at Hogwarts. They told the professor about Malfoy’s taunts, Filch’s malevolent looks, Binns’ soporific droning, and even Snape’s continuing favouritism towards his Slytherin students. McGonagall expressed her sympathy regarding Filch and Binns, and she sniffed disapprovingly when she heard of Malfoy’s behaviour, but she seemed somewhat hesitant to accept their stories about Professor Snape.

“You are not the first students to tell me such things,” McGonagall said. “I have heard similar stories over the course of his entire tenure at Hogwarts. I have investigated some of these incidents in various ways, but I have never been able to find evidence that he has done anything wrong. I certainly do not approve of his teaching methods, nor do I care for him personally. He is strict and prefers to employ the harshest punishments available to him, but I have never seen him being actively hostile towards students of any particular house.”

That doesn’t mean he’s not doing it, Harry said with a touch of sourness in his voice. It just means he hasn’t got caught yet.

Oh well,
Ginny said. At least she heard us out.

Regardless of the topic of conversation, though, Ginny and Harry had to admit that they enjoyed their visits and felt a bit calmer after having a casual, equitable discussion with their professor. They came to realise that, no matter what they had to endure at Hogwarts, they could talk to Professor McGonagall at the end of the week and be confident that she, at least, would listen to them and not ridicule them. That knowledge calmed them a bit, and that calm allowed them to endure Malfoy’s insults and Snape’s bias.

At the end of their meeting on the second Sunday of February, McGonagall stopped them on their way out of her office.

“By the way, I thought you might like to know that Professor Snape will be refereeing the upcoming Quidditch match against Hufflepuff,” she said. “After the . . . disturbance at the last match, he volunteered to help prevent any more incidents.”

Stunned, Harry and Ginny could only nod. They wanted to tell her that Snape had caused the problems at the last match, but they knew that they could not convince McGonagall of that without revealing Hermione’s part in the day’s events. They were quite certain that McGonagall would disapprove of setting a professor’s robes on fire, regardless of Hermione’s intentions or her stellar academic record

I’m doomed, Harry said as they walked back to Gryffindor Tower. If he doesn’t hex me himself, the sod’ll just make it impossible for us to win.

And if you don’t play, then everyone will think you’re afraid of Snape,
Ginny added.

Never mind the rest of the team wanting to kill me themselves.

I bet they won’t like Snape refereeing any more than you do. I know the twins will be outraged.


When they reached the common room, they saw Oliver with the other five members of the Gryffindor team at a large table in a corner. Wood waved Harry over, and they approached the table as the Captain finished telling his team about the change in officials for the upcoming game. Wood, as usual, did his best to keep a positive attitude, but everyone clearly felt that they now had no chance of actually winning.

“What do you reckon, George?” Fred asked. “Should we finally try playing a match sitting backwards on our broomsticks? We always said we would, and this may be the only game where it couldn’t possibly change the outcome.”

“I’d rather not,” George said. “Why waste a perfectly good gag on a perfectly ghastly game? Save it for a time when it might be appreciated.”

Word spread quickly, and by lunchtime the next day the whole school knew that Snape would be refereeing the Gryffindor/Hufflepuff game. Malfoy, predictably, became completely insufferable. In the corridors and at mealtimes he could be heard loudly proclaiming that, since the school had finally found a competent referee, even the duffers of Hufflepuff would be able to beat the over-confident and lucky Gryffindors.

Two weeks later, on the day of the Gryffindor/Hufflepuff match, the morning was cold and grey, and everyone predicted that it would start to rain at any moment. Ginny, Hermione, Ron, and Neville found seats in the Gryffindor section of the stands while Harry trudged into the locker room. He thought that he could almost hear the bells tolling his doom in the distance.

Don’t be so morose, Harry, Ginny said, rolling her eyes. At least you get to fly, right?

Between the weather and the lack of privacy, they had found it difficult to find time to practice flying together since returning to Hogwarts. They had managed it once or twice, using one of the twins’ brooms, but for the most part, Ginny had only been able to fly alone on the Nimbus for a few minutes after each Quidditch practice. It was fortunate that she enjoyed flying along with Harry nearly as much as she did flying herself.

That’s true, he answered her, brightening a bit. Snape can’t very well tell me I can’t fly at a Quidditch match, can he?

We can hope not,
Ginny replied.

Wood skipped the rousing pep-talk he might have given on another occasion. “Go out there and do the best that you can. Don’t give Snape any excuses to favour Hufflepuff. Just fly cleanly and keep your heads down.”

A few minutes later, Harry was soaring above the pitch, hunting for the Snitch and trying to keep up with the game below. It did not take long for Snape to begin persecuting the Gryffindor team. Less than a minute into the match, Fred sent a Bludger across the pitch at one of Hufflepuff’s Chasers. On its way, the Bludger passed two yards above Snape’s head, and the professor smugly awarded a penalty shot to Hufflepuff, saying that Gryffindor’s Beater had deliberately aimed a Bludger at the referee.

Three minutes later, Gryffindor somehow committed another foul. Neither Harry nor Ginny were quite sure how, because they had not seen any of their housemates come in contact with the Hufflepuff team or even gain possession of the Quaffle. Fortunately, Wood was performing his job superbly, and the score remained tied at zero.

This is horrible, Ginny said. She had hoped to watch the Chasers, as she usually did at practices, but thus far they had done nothing except watch their opponents take penalty shots. She still kept her attention on the Gryffindor girls, resolutely not hunting for the Snitch, but her attention was far from focused.

At this rate we’ll end up with the worst rout in Hogwarts history, Harry thought.

Find that silly Snitch, Harry.

He grinned in midair. What a strange idea. Perhaps I could try that.

Harry circled the pitch a few more times, searching even more carefully and ignoring the rest of the game. As he passed above the beleaguered Gryffindor Keeper again, he finally had an inspiration.

Gin, do you remember how Charlie’s Snitch was hiding by the chimney of the Burrow?

Yeah, but there’s not much of a place to hide here.

What about that little overhang where the stands stick out from the wall of the pitch?
he asked.

She shrugged. It’s worth a try.

Harry dropped down to the seam between the reinforced wall and the front of the stands above. There was an overhang there, perhaps six inches deep, which ran all the way around the field. He leveled off so that he could see into that space and flew along the wall, searching every inch of the slight crevice.

As he passed under the Gryffindor section, he heard with both his ears and Ginny’s as Ron shouted, “What the hell are you doing, Harry?”

Ginny spun and smacked the back of her hand into her brother’s chest. “Shut up, Ron, he’s had an idea.”

Harry crossed to the Ravenclaw section, and as he straightened out his turn on the long side of the pitch, he spotted the Snitch hovering in the shadowed groove he was following. He bent over his broom, arrowing straight towards the fluttering golden sphere.

The Snitch seemed to sense his approach, and it shot straight out of its hiding place towards the centre of the pitch. Elated, Harry turned to follow it, cutting the corner of the Snitch’s path and catching up with it rapidly. He reached out his hand and looked ahead to make sure his path was clear, but when he raised his eyes he saw Snape stopped in the middle of the field, directly in the path of the Snitch. The Potions professor scowled at Harry and narrowed his eyes, but he did not move.

Quick, Ginny, what’s that rule say? The one about the ref and the Snitch?

Ginny turned to Ron and grabbed his shoulder to pull his head down. “Ron, what’s that rule about the referee getting in the way of the Snitch?” she whispered in his ear.

Ron knew what she was asking and responded in a rush. “If the referee’s in the path of the Snitch whilst a Seeker is in pursuit, it’s the referee’s responsibility to get out of the way, because no one on the field can control where the Snitch goes.”

Harry grinned. Good enough.

Apparently, Snape had also read the rules of Quidditch at some point. When it became clear that the Snitch was buzzing straight towards the black-robed professor, Snape released a frustrated snarl and dived away out of its path. Harry maintained his course, and just as he passed through the space Snape had occupied a moment before, the Golden Snitch smacked firmly into his palm. He pulled his broom to a halt and raised the fluttering ball over his head in triumph.

Lee Jordan’s voice rang across the pitch. “Harry Potter catches the Golden Snitch, and Gryffindor wins 150-10! And . . . just a moment please . . .” Harry looked over at the teachers’ box to see Jordan whispering excitedly to McGonagall. “Yes, ladies and gentlemen, it’s confirmed! At less than eight minutes, that was the shortest Quidditch game in Hogwarts history!”

The Gryffindor section of the stands exploded with noise. Ginny and Hermione jumped up and down in their places, clapping wildly, while Ron pumped his arms in the air and shouted himself hoarse. Neville clapped and smiled at his friends’ enthusiasm, even though it was obvious he was a bit less of a fan of the game than the others.

Ginny and Harry’s elation washed over them, but he was distracted as the rest of the Gryffindor team collided with him in midair. All three Chasers hugged him fiercely, screaming all the while. Fred, George, and Oliver clapped him on the back hard enough that he would have fallen if the girls had not been holding him up. In a confused mass of brooms and robes, the Gryffindor team floated to the ground, where they all regained their feet.

“Bloody brilliant, Harry!” Fred shouted over the noise.

“Only could have been better if you’d run over the slimy bastard!” George added.

Harry glanced around as best he could to make sure that Snape had not heard, but the dour professor was already walking through one of the doors in the side of the pitch.

Up in the stands, Ron finally stopped whooping and grinned at Ginny and Hermione. “A Quidditch win in time for lunch! What could be better?”

“Could have been for the cup, I suppose,” Neville said from Ron’s other side.

“Don’t say that, Neville,” Hermione joked. “He might expire from excitement.”

“Not when there’s food ready. He’d wait until afterwards,” Ginny said.

“Too right,” Ron agreed. “Let’s go eat.” He started down the stands with the other students in tow.

Want to fly for a bit while everyone’s at lunch? Harry asked.

That’d be brill! Ginny said. I’m too excited to eat, unlike some people.

Harry turned until he found the twins in the cluster of red uniforms drifting towards the locker room. Squeezing between them, he asked, “Could one of you leave your broom out for Ginny?”

“Sure thing,” Fred said, handing Harry his broom. “You skipping lunch?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah. Not really hungry yet anyway.”

“That’ll make Ron happy,” George said from Harry’s other side. “More food for him. See you later, then, Harry.”

Fred leaned over and whispered in Harry’s ear. “Ginny, be nice to my broom.”

“Right,” Harry whispered back, grinning. Fred rolled his eyes, nodded, and waved as he disappeared into the locker room.

As Ginny and the others reached the ground, she stopped. “You lot go on without me. I’m going to go and meet Harry, and we’ll catch you up in the Great Hall.”

Ron and Hermione nodded, but Neville looked confused. Then he shrugged and followed the other two students up towards the castle. Ginny walked around the outside of the pitch until she reached one of the doors. She followed the tunnel out onto the pitch itself, where Harry was waiting with his and Fred’s brooms. They flew up into the stands and sat watching the stream of students returning to the castle, waiting for the teams to finish showering and leave the pitch to the two first-years.

Why do you suppose they let Snape referee the match? It should be obvious he’s completely biased against us.

I don’t know, Harry. McGonagall doesn’t really listen to us about Snape at all.

Pointless to tell her, then, isn’t it?


They sat for a short while, reliving the match and counting the Quidditch players as they emerged from the locker rooms and walked up to the castle. When, at last, Gryffindor’s Chasers emerged as a group and then disappeared into the main doors, Harry and Ginny mounted their brooms and took off across the pitch.

As a starting point, they flew in staggered laps around the inside of the pitch, so that Harry was rounding the end of the pitch as Ginny flew along the relatively straight long side. After a few careful circuits, they pulled to a stop.

I think we could do that as long as we wanted to, Ginny said.

Yeah. It’s like . . . like we figured out how to keep one of us going in a straight line while the other does something else.

Let’s add something to it, then,
she suggested. I’ll keep flying laps down here, and you do the same, only fly up and down as you go.

Alright. Then we can switch and try it the other way.


Ginny continued her easy laps, while Harry flew up above her and performed a series of shallow dives and climbs as he circled the pitch. This combination required much more effort on their part, and every few minutes they stopped to regain their balance and switch roles.

As Ginny flew up above the stands for her second turn doing climbs and dives, she spotted someone in a black cloak walking from the back of the pitch towards the Forbidden Forest. She knew from the broom race against Malfoy that the dark-cloaked man was walking a path to ensure that he was out of sight of the castle.

That’s Snape, Harry said as they both stopped. No one else wears a cloak that makes them look like they’re a member of Vampires Anonymous.

What’s he doing sneaking into the Forbidden Forest while everyone’s at lunch?
Ginny asked.

Nothing good, to be sure.

Harry flew up next to her, and by silent consent they dipped their brooms to glide down towards the forest behind the rushing professor. They lost sight of Snape when he stepped into the thick trees, but when they reached the edge of the forest, they flew as straight as possible and listened closely for any noise. As they wove carefully in and out of the branches of the trees, they heard voices in the distance. The sound was too low for them to understand any words, but they veered to fly towards the speakers.

They rounded the trunk of a large tree and saw a small clearing several yards ahead. Snape was standing in the clearing talking to Professor Quirrell.

". . . d-don't know why you wanted t-t-to meet here of all p-places, Severus . . ." Quirrel stuttered.

"Oh, I thought we'd keep this private," Snape said, his voice icy. "Students aren't supposed to know about the Philosopher's Stone, after all."

Quirrell mumbled something in response, but Snape interrupted him. "Have you found out how to get past that beast of Hagrid's yet?"

"B-b-but Severus, I . . ."

"You don't want me as your enemy, Quirrell," Snape said, taking a step towards him.

"I-I don't know what you . . .”

"You know perfectly well what I mean," the taller man snapped.

Harry and Ginny flinched slightly at the venom in their professor’s voice and wobbled on their brooms. They steadied themselves in time to hear Snape say, “ . . .your little bit of hocus-pocus. I'm waiting."

"B-but I d-d-don't . . ."

"Very well," Snape interrupted him again. "We'll have another little chat soon, when you've had time to think things over and decide where your loyalties lie."

The Potions Master spun on his heel, and Harry and Ginny felt that he was looking directly at them. He must not have actually seen them, because he did not react, but they turned quickly and flew away from the clearing as Snape stalked back through the woods.

They dipped closer to the ground to avoid a thick tangle of branches, but when they leveled out a few feet above the soil, Ginny was flying straight at a tree trunk. Instinctively, she turned sharply to avoid the trunk, but in his hurry Harry reacted and turned also. Ginny missed the tree trunk while Harry flew through the top of a small bush. The leaves whipping around his legs distracted him, and they both fell the last few feet to the forest floor.

Ginny! Harry called, scrambling up and rounding the bush towards her. Are you alright?

Yeah, I’m fine, just mussed a bit,
she said, appearing from the other side of the tree and brushing dirt from her robes. You?

I’m fine.


The noise of their confusion and abrupt landings must have attracted Snape’s attention. “Who’s there?” he called sharply.

Ginny looked towards his voice and saw the lighted tip of a wand approaching them through the trees.

Quick, back to the tower! Harry said. You first.

Ginny nodded even as she disappeared and reappeared in Harry’s bed, still holding Fred’s broom. She dropped the broom to the floor inside the curtains and scrambled to the foot of the bed. As soon as she was out of the way, they transported Harry to the head of the bed.

That was way too close, Ginny said, catching her breath.

Yeah. I don’t think he saw me, though.

What are we going to do with the brooms?
she asked. People will wonder why you brought two brooms up here.

Err . . . hold on.


Harry flung the curtains open and dashed to the window. If he leaned out far enough, he could see the edge of the broom shed near the Quidditch pitch. Ginny picked up both brooms, and a moment later she was standing beside the shed, looking around to make sure no one was in sight. She crept around the corner of the building, opened the door, and quickly put the two brooms in their usual places. She pushed the door closed behind her, and when she looked up from the latch she saw Snape striding quickly towards the main entrance.

Damn! Harry said. If he gets to the Great Hall and we’re not there, he might figure out that we were in the forest.

Ginny transported back up to Harry’s dorm as he quickly shed his Quidditch uniform and stuffed it under his bed. He pulled his robes on over his Muggle clothes, and then they darted down the stairs to the common room. The Fat Lady squawked indignantly as they shoved the portrait open. They dashed down the stairs as fast as they could.

We’re never going to make it, Ginny panted. There’s too many bloody stairs.

The landings!


They stumbled to a halt on the landing between the sixth and seventh floors. Ginny peered down at the next landing, and suddenly Harry was standing on it. He turned to look down another flight of stairs, and Ginny transported from the landing above him to the landing below him. In this way, they descended the stairs in seconds and crossed to the great hall in a few moments more. Just before they entered the room full of students, they took a moment to pull the leaves out of Ginny’s hair and brush the rest of the dirt off of her robes.

Taking a deep breath and trying to look unhurried, they pulled open one of the doors and strolled to their places at the Gryffindor table. Dropping into their seats, they quickly served themselves.

Harry leaned forward and whispered, “Everything’s normal, we’ve been here for a few minutes, don’t look up.”

As if on cue, both doors to the Great Hall slammed open, and Professor Snape strode down the length of the hall, scowling menacingly in his trademark style. He walked behind them, but Harry thought he could feel the man’s burning gaze resting on his back. To help cover their arrival, Ginny picked up in the middle of an imaginary conversation.

“. . . so, anyway, Fred and George said that they’d pick things up from Hogsmeade for us. You know, quills and sweets and stuff. If you need anything, just ask. We’ll make sure they don’t slip any nasty Zonko’s products into your things.”

Hermione was the first to catch on. Bless her, Ginny said.

“Oh, that’s wonderful,” she said. “Do you suppose they’d buy a few books for me? I’m sure that it wouldn’t take too much time to find a book if I gave them the author and title.”

I think she’s serious, Harry said.

Poor Fred and George. They’ll be hunchbacked soon.

“Sure, Hermione, I don’t see why not. Not a lot of books, mind you, but maybe a couple at a time.”

Snape had finally left earshot and was taking his seat at the high table.

“What the bloody hell was that about?” Ron asked, scowling.

Ginny lowered her voice to a confidential whisper. “We were out flying after the match, and we saw Snape go into the forest. We followed him and heard him threatening Quirrell about something. On our way back to the castle we got tangled up in a bush, and he must have heard us. We just barely got back to the castle before he did.”

“What did Snape want with Quirrell?” Neville wondered.

“I’m not sure,” Harry said, glancing at Hermione. “He wouldn’t really let Quirrell talk at all. He just asked if Quirrell knew about some kind of beast.”

“Maybe he was talking about that giant dog we found,” Neville said. “But why would he be interested in that?”

“That’s a good question, Neville,” Hermione said as the other three students averted their eyes.

Ron broke the moment of awkward silence by rising from the table. He stretched briefly and announced that he was going to make use of the facilities before pudding.

When Ron had left the hall, Neville turned back to Ginny. “His birthday is next week, right?”

“Yeah, a week from tomorrow.” Harry and Ginny had ordered Ron’s birthday present by owl, and they knew that Hermione’s parents had sent something she requested as a gift.

“Gran won’t let me use owl-order catalogues,” Neville said with a frown. “D’you think Fred and George would pick up some sweets for me to give to Ron? It’s a Hogsmeade weekend next weekend, I saw.”

Ginny peered down the table. “Hey, bookends!” she called.

Six seats away, Fred and George looked up with identical expressions of outrage.

“There they go again! No respect for their elders,” Fred said loudly.

“We simply must go and reprimand them,” George responded sternly.

The twins stalked down to the first-years’ area and wedged themselves into the seat Ron had vacated. Hermione rolled her eyes as she shifted to make room for them, but she did not seem to mind the intrusion.

“What can we do for you, O Most Favoured Sister?” Fred asked.

Ginny cocked her head to the side. “What, you have another sister you haven’t told me about?”

George grinned. “Just because it was an easy contest doesn’t mean you didn’t win.”

“Whatever. Look, Neville wasn’t able to get anything for Ron’s birthday. Could you pick up some sweets on Saturday if he gives you a few Sickles?”

“Yeah, no problem,” Fred said. “Licorice wands, maybe? They come in boxes of twelve, and Ron can’t get enough of them.”

“That’d be fine,” Neville said hesitantly.

“And Ron’s birthday presents are off-limits, right?” Ginny asked with a raised eyebrow.

George grinned at her. “Just this once.”

“Anyone else want anything?” Fred offered.

“Hermione?” Ginny asked.

“Oh. Err . . .” she turned to look at Fred, who was sitting next to her. “Do you suppose you could buy a book for me?”

The twins looked dubious. “A book? I dunno . . . never been to a bookshop before. Bit of a reputation to maintain, don’t you know?”

Hermione huffed and looked down at the table. “Well, never mind then. I can get it by owl.”

“Oi!” George said. “Hermione, you’ve been spending way too much time around Ron. Can’t take a joke at all. Write down the book you want, and we’ll bring it if they’ve got it. The price of delivery is our joking around about it. See?”

The brunette’s face brightened immediately. “Oh. Well, thank you.” She grinned slightly. “Shall I draw a picture of the cover for you? That would keep you from having to actually read anything.”

The twins laughed out loud. “That’s the stuff!” Fred crowed. “The offer stands, Miss Granger. If you want a book or something, skip the midgets,” he waved across the table at Harry and Ginny, “and just let us know.”

“Ginny, which is worse?” Harry asked as Hermione nodded. “Titches or midgets?”

She tapped her finger against her chin thoughtfully. “Midgets, I think. It offends us, but it also offends actual midgets. And the goblins. And maybe female midges, too, for all we know.”

“Ah, good then,” Harry said. “I want to keep our list in the proper order, you see, so that we can plan our revenge accordingly.”

“And that’s our cue!” George said as both twins rose from their shared seat. “We’ll deliver on Saturday. A pleasure doing business with you, miss!” They returned to their section of the table, and Ron returned a minute later, ignorant of all that had transpired in his absence.

As the students filed out of the Great Hall after lunch, Harry ran forward and fell in step with the twins.

George looked around to make sure no one was too close, and then whispered, “Hello, Hanny.”

“Hi, Gred,” he said. “Quick . . . when Hermione buys a book, it’s always on sale, right?”

George chuckled. “Sure thing, Harry. Should’ve guessed you’d say something like that.”

“Thanks. Come up with a story she’ll believe, if that’s possible. And let me know the difference so we can keep square,” Harry said.

“That’s right decent of you, Harry. If we could cover the difference for a book or two ourselves, we would. Seems like she’s a good friend to all three of you,” Fred said seriously.

He nodded. “Absolutely. We’ll call it a joint effort, okay? Err . . .” Ginny’s memory provided the words he wanted, “procurement and delivery.”

“Alright,” George said. “Next weekend, then.”

You didn’t have to do that, Harry.

I know, but why shouldn’t I?

She might not appreciate it when she figures it out. And eventually, she will figure it out.

Yeah, but the way I see it, the less she spends on books, the more books she can get. And the more books she can get, the happier she is. So I’ll have that on my side, and when she catches on I’ll just say that I’m making sure she can help us with our homework.


Ginny giggled, careful not to let Hermione notice her expression. Oh, she’ll just love that.

On Saturday evening, Fred distracted Ron while George delivered their purchases.

“Here you are, Hermione,” he said. “One copy of, err . . . something completely uninteresting, and three Sickles change.”

“Change?” she asked. “I gave you just the right amount.”

George grinned roguishly. “Ah, well, you see . . . the girl who works the counter at the bookshop on weekends thinks we’re rather dashing, so she gives us a bit of a break. We could hardly refuse, seeing as how she’s a nice-looking sort of girl. So we pass our good fortune on to you. Harbingers of good fortune, we are.”

“Err, right,” Hermione said, accepting her change. “Thank you very much.”

“Glad to be of service. And for you, Neville, one box of licorice wands, gift-wrapped for your convenience. Sorry, no change there. Mean old codger at the counter of Honeydukes.”

“Thanks, ahh . . .”

“Fred,” George said.

“George,” Harry and Ginny chorused.

“George,” Neville concluded, giving Harry and Ginny an odd look.

George thrust his fist across his chest dramatically. “Curses, foiled again!”

A few minutes later, he and Fred rounded the sofa where Harry and Ginny sat as the troublesome duo made their way up to the dormitories. When the twins passed behind Ginny, she reached over and caught George’s sleeve. "What did the girl at the bookshop really say?"

"Her word was 'cute,'" Fred said sourly, leaning down to whisper to them.

"She even ruffled Fred's hair," George added with a grin.

"Still, 'cute' is better than 'downright repulsive,' right?"

"Too right," George agreed. "And besides, you can't expect a nice looking girl like that to always use the right word. If we just explained to her the difference between cute and dashing . . ."


"She's probably say you're cute and ruffle your hair again," Harry finished.

"Oh well," Fred said. "Her loss, eh?" The twins went up the stairs and left Harry and Ginny grinning on their sofa.

Their birthday is one month from tomorrow, right? Harry asked.

Yep. We’ll have to think of something . . . special.

That night, Ginny snuck into the third-year boys’ dormitory and slipped one silver Sickle into the pocket of each of George’s three sets of robes.

After lunch on Sunday, once Ron was comfortably ensconced in an armchair, Harry gave a nod to Hermione and Neville, and the three of them went up to their dormitories to get Ron’s gifts. Ginny went to warn the twins, and they produced an elaborately decorated chocolate cupcake from a box they had kept hidden beneath the table they shared with Lee. On top of the table was the cage containing their pet rat, and Ginny was very thankful that the twins had not got the two containers mixed up.

As a group, the six students converged on Ron’s chair. Fred lit a candle on the cupcake and set it on the table in front of his brother, while the rest piled their gifts around the confection.

“Happy birthday, Ron!” Ginny said, followed closely by the others.

“Brilliant!” Ron said, picking up the first package eagerly.

Harry noticed that Ron had not even noticed the cupcake and its merrily burning candle. I guess if there’s anything that can get his attention away from food . . .

. . . it’s presents,
Ginny finished, smiling and laughing silently. I’m sure he’ll remember the cupcake as soon as he’s done with the presents.

Ginny and Harry had bought Ron a one-year subscription to Which Broomstick, so all he got to unwrap was a letter telling him when the first issue would arrive. He thanked Neville for the licorice wands and stuck one in the corner of his mouth even as he opened his other presents. Fred and George, aside from the cupcake, had picked up a fresh box of Chocolate Frogs. They said that Ron always liked to have a few on hand in case of food emergencies.

Hermione’s gift was, by far, the most unusual. Ron ripped open the wrapping paper to find a Muggle book entitled Lessons in Chess, by someone named Garry Kasparov.

“Err . . . thanks, Hermione,” he said, confused, as he finished his licorice wand. “But I don’t need lessons, do I? I already know how to play.”

“That’s not really what it means, Ron,” she explained. “Muggles take chess much more seriously than witches and wizards do, as far as I can tell. Kasparov has been World Chess Champion since 1985. The book is about strategy, not how to play. There’s a whole chapter on using your king, I think.”

Ron’s face lit up with interest. “World Chess Champion? Really?” When Hermione nodded firmly, Ron muttered, “I wonder if he’s as good as Knightley.” He looked up at his friends and family even as he opened the book. “Thanks everyone. Really good stuff.”

“You’re welcome, Ron,” Harry said. The other students wished Ron a happy birthday again and dispersed. Harry and Ginny returned to the sofa where they had been reading ahead in their Transfiguration book. Ginny sat first, and as Harry sank into the cushion next to her and reached for the book, she held out a hand to stop him.

Wait for it . . .

Harry caught her thought and looked up to find Ron engrossed in the chess book.

Wait for it . . .

Without looking up, Ron reached out and picked up the cupcake. He brought it towards his mouth and positioned it to take a bite out of the icing.

Yes!

Only when he had opened his mouth did Ron realize that the slow-burning candle was still lit and burning merrily an inch away from his nose. With a startled oath, he jerked his head back from the flame, almost dropping the cupcake onto the pages of his book. Wide-eyed and pale, Ron blew out the candle, chucked it onto the table in front of him, and turned back to his book as he successfully took a bite of the cupcake.

That’s the great thing about Ron, Ginny said. Sometimes, he pranks himself.

Simultaneously, Harry and Ginny glanced over at the twins’ table to find them chortling softly in Ron’s direction. They looked up at the younger pair, struggling to contain their smiles, and all four students burst into laughter. They clapped their hands over their mouths to keep Ron from noticing, but the red-haired boy’s attention never once wandered from the book in his lap.

A while later, the noise from the twins’ table grew louder, and Ginny looked over to find them both, along with Lee, flicking their wands sharply at the caged rat on the table. Whatever they were trying was apparently not working, as the rat merely huddled in a corner.

Hermione stood up from the table she had claimed and perched on the arm of the sofa next to Ginny. “What on earth are they doing to that poor rat?” she asked.

“Experimenting,” Ginny said. “Probably trying to make it grow elephant ears or something. They got it to turn yellow last summer. And pink, of course.” Sighing heavily, Ginny shook her head. “They can turn anything pink.”

“That’s awful!” Hermione cried. “It doesn’t deserve to be treated that way.”

Harry was not sure the rat really cared. From what he understood from Ginny’s memories, it had once belonged to Charlie, who had named it Scabbers. Later it had been passed to Percy, and when Percy got an owl as a reward for being made prefect, he had passed the rat on to the twins. They had refused it, at first, but Percy had insisted that Scabbers should go to the next oldest siblings. It was, as he said, “the proper order of things.” Once the twins realized that they had a test subject who could not complain very much, however, they had been eager to keep Scabbers in their room.

Ginny and Harry were startled out of her memories by Hermione standing up and walking purposefully across the room to the twins’ table.

Uh oh, Harry said. Cautiously, they got up to follow their friend.

“What are you doing to that poor, defenseless animal?” she demanded.

“Nothing much,” Fred said casually. “We’re trying to make him turn orange, but we haven’t figured it out quite yet.”


Orange?” Hermione asked incredulously. “Has it occurred to you that he might not want to be orange?”

“Well, yeah, that’s possible. But he didn’t mind being pink, yellow, or blue, so why should he be bothered by orange? Though, come to think of it, he didn’t seem too chuffed with that weird blue with the funny dots.”

“That rat is supposed to be brown,” Hermione insisted. “It’s brown for a reason, and if you change it into some other colour, you have no idea what you might be messing up!”

“We turned your hair red, but it doesn’t seem to be bothering you,” George said.

“What?!” she screeched, lifting a hand to pull her hair in front of her shoulder. It was still quite brown.

Hermione made a very uncharacteristic noise of frustration and tossed her hair behind her once more. “Fur or hair colour is determined by a chemical reaction in the hair follicles. If you change the fur colour, it could change the follicle, and you have no idea what awful things that might do to the rat. It could cause a rash, or hair loss, or even cancer!”

“If you say so,” Fred said.

“Don’t they teach you anything in Muggle studies?” Hermione threw her hands up in the air. “There’s stuff in the skin that makes the fur brown,” she explained slowly. “If you make its fur another colour, you might be changing whatever it is that normally makes it brown. And that might change something else, and so forth. And that rat has no way of telling you if any of those changes hurt!”

“He’d squeal or something if it hurt him, I bet,” Lee offered.

Ginny snorted. “Scabbers hasn’t made a sound in at least three years. Not even when Fred accidentally stepped on his tail.”

“See?” Hermione said. “You’ve probably messed him up so thoroughly that he can’t make noise anymore.”

Ron had walked up, unnoticed, to stand behind the other first years. “Maybe she’s right, George,” he said. “You don’t really know what it’s like to be an orange rat, do you?”

The twins looked at each other for a few moments, their eyebrows and lips twitching in some kind of silent language. Finally, they shrugged.

“Alright,” George said. He pushed Scabbers’ cage across the table towards them. “Happy birthday, Ron. We can practice most things on a quill or something anyway.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful,” Hermione said. “You’ll take good care of it, won’t you, Ron?”

The tall boy looked surprised by the sudden change. “Err . . . well, yeah. Alright,” he said at last.

Hermione hugged Ron quickly. “Thank you, Ron. I knew you’d do the right thing.”

Ron blushed faintly and muttered, “You’re welcome.” He picked the cage up by its handle and carried it over to the table with the rest of his birthday presents. Flopping back into his chair, he studied Scabbers for a moment. Then he shrugged and picked up his chess book again, letting the rat stare at him through the bars of the cage.

Hermione watched him with an ecstatic look on her face, and then she turned back to the third years. “I’m sorry to have made you lose your . . . err . . . subject. But I just don’t think it’s right to test unknown spells like that on a living creature.”

“McGonagall had us turning animals into water goblets last year,” George pointed out.

“Well, yes, I read that on the syllabus, but I’m sure that Professor McGonagall knows exactly what that spell does and how it affects the animal in question. When you’re experimenting with a new spell outside of class, though, you can’t be sure what it really does.”

Fred grinned at her. “As it happens, the base colour-changing spell we use only affects the exterior surface of the object upon which it is cast.”

“It functions essentially like an infinitely thin layer of paint which is both malleable and permeable,” Lee continued. “It’s no different from a girl’s makeup, except that it doesn’t have any chemical properties of its own, and therefore it cannot possibly have any toxic effects.”

Hermione’s jaw fell open as Fred started his explanation, and as Lee finished it she blushed furiously. “I . . . I’m . . .” She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”

“No worries, Hermione,” George answered. “Frankly, Scabbers is a boring old rat, and we felt bad because we hadn’t found anything better for Ron’s birthday. It’s a win-win situation for us all, yeah?”

“I suppose so,” Hermione said, a tiny smile creeping onto her face. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” Fred said. “By the way, the bookshop had several other books about the history of Arithmancy, so if you want another one, just tell us.”

Hermione’s shocked look seemed to have become fixed rather firmly in place, and Ginny and Harry had to hide their smiles. “Oh. Yes. Well, uh, thank you both again.”

The twins waved, Lee nodded, and Hermione walked stiffly back to her table.

Will wonders never cease? Ginny said as she and Harry resumed their seats.

I suppose we should have guessed that if anyone could put one over on Hermione, it would be the twins.

You know what that means, don’t you?
she asked, grinning devilishly.

Oh yes, Harry said. We have to put one over on them.

Wonderful idea, Mr. Potter.

It’s the company I keep, Miss Weasley.


She giggled. We’d better pack up, Harry. We wouldn’t want to be late for McGonagall.

They gathered their books and took them upstairs to their rooms, and then they walked through the castle to McGonagall’s office. A few minutes later, they were seated together on a small sofa and sipping hot tea.

“Well, Mr. Potter and Miss Weasley, what is on your mind today?” the professor asked. She asked exactly the same question every week.

“Err, Professor,” Harry said hesitantly.

“Yes, Mr. Potter?”

“Well, would you mind calling us just Harry and Ginny?” he asked. “Maybe only when we’re here on Sundays? It’s just that it gets awfully old hearing ‘Mr. Potter and Miss Weasley’ each time you’re talking to both of us.”

“I suppose I can understand that,” McGonagall admitted. “Very well, Harry. But only in this office, and only on Sundays.” She paused, looking out of her window with an uncomfortable expression. “You may call me . . .”

“I think Professor is just fine, Professor,” Ginny offered.

Their Head of House smiled. “Yes, thank you. We’ll all suit our actions to our audiences. Now, is there anything you’d like to talk about? Has anything interesting happened this week?”

“Oh, it’s Ron’s birthday,” Ginny said. “We gave him presents and a cupcake in the common room just after lunch.”

“Please wish him a happy birthday from me, then,” McGonagall said.

“We will,” Ginny promised. They thought for a moment about the conversation between Hermione and the twins. It was not something they wanted to share with their professor because of Hermione’s embarrassment, but it did stick in their thoughts for some reason. At last, they made the connection.

“Professor,” Harry said, “we do have a question about transfiguration, but it’s second-year material, we think.”

“I certainly do not object to answering any question beyond your year level, Harry. I’m very happy that you have an interest in the subject.”

“Oh, yeah, it’s brilliant,” he said. “We found out that second years transform animals into water goblets.”

McGonagall nodded. “Yes, that’s correct. It is rather difficult when first attempted, but most students master it by the end of the term. I would not recommend that you try it until I present it to you next year.”

“No, Professor, we weren’t thinking of that,” Ginny said. “But at the beginning of this year you told us that we should never practice transfiguration on a person. Then, over the holidays, Bill told us why.” She took a deep breath and continued. “He said it takes away all of your senses, so it’s really horrible for the person who gets transfigured.”

“That’s also correct,” their professor said. “And you are wondering why I encourage students to transfigure animals into objects, given that doing the same thing to a person is forbidden?”

“Yes, Professor.”

“An excellent question, Ginny. Its answer is one of the mysteries of Transfiguration.” She put her cup on the table in front of her and folded her hands in her lap. “Over the years, thousands of different kinds of animals have been transfigured into objects like water goblets. The vast majority of common animals showed no ill effects at all. Many magical creatures, and a few mundane ones, seem to suffer from the same problems we have observed when humans are transfigured into objects for any length of time.

“No one really knows what the difference is. We have observed that more intelligent animals, such as dolphins, some species of canine, and hippogriffs, are more prone to mental instability after being transfigured. What we cannot truly determine is what sets these animals apart from those who are immune to the phenomenon. It is not the size or configuration of their brains, nor is it their social structure.

“All we can really say is that this sort of animal can be transfigured without side effects, while this other cannot. Rats are one of the former, as are the other animals I use in my second-year class. When you reach that point, you will notice that we do not use anyone’s pet owl or cat. Magical owls suffer greatly from transfiguration, as do all varieties of cats.”

“So it’s definitely okay to transfigure a rat?” Ginny asked.

“Yes, Ginny. I assume you’re thinking of that battered creature that two of your brothers have already brought to my class?”

She nodded. “Ron has him now. Scabbers seems a bit off these days, so I wondered.”

“That rat is remarkably old,” McGonagall observed. “I daresay that is why he is not as lively as he used to be. He should have passed on years ago, or so I would have thought.”

March passed swiftly, filled with homework, Quidditch practice, and evenings in front of the common room fire. Ron fed Scabbers dutifully and slowly seemed to become fond of the pathetic rodent. Hermione eventually persuaded him to leave the door of the cage open, and after that Scabbers could occasionally be seen scurrying under the furniture in the common room, avoiding students’ feet and an older student’s cat. At the end of the day, however, the rat always returned to his cage voluntarily to eat and sleep.

Hermione said that Scabbers looked a bit livelier and less scrawny than he had, and Harry and Ginny had to agree. Apparently, escaping the twins’ experiments and having the opportunity to run freely had been good for the poor creature. Ron carried bits of cheese wrapped in a napkin in his pocket, and whenever Scabbers wandered nearby, Ron gave him a treat. Scabbers was not as excited by cheese as Ron thought he should be, but he ate it nevertheless and came to spend more time in Ron’s vicinity.

The last day of March was a Tuesday, and when the post was delivered at breakfast, Ginny and Harry watched Errol deliver a letter to Fred and George, who were sitting a few seats down the table.

The twins ripped open the white envelope and read the letter inside. As their eyes flicked across the page, the colour drained from their faces, and they looked up at each other with wide eyes.

Ginny leaned towards them. “Fred? George? What’s wrong?” she asked with a concerned look. “Did something happen at home?”

Her brothers shook their heads slowly, their gazes lost in the space in front of them.

Ginny frowned. “What is it, then?”

Wordlessly, Fred held the letter out to her. Kneeling in her seat, she leaned across the table and took it. Holding it so that both she and Harry could clearly see it, they skimmed it quickly.

Fred & George,

Happy birthday!

I know it’s 31 March, and that’s why we’ve sent this letter. Your mum and I were going through some old things in our bedroom this month, and we ran across your birth certificates. She wants to frame them, of course, but that’s not the point.

It turns out that you were both born 14 years ago today, on 31 March 1978. We’ve always thought your birthday was 1 April because the two of you weren’t handed over to us until a few minutes after midnight. But in actual fact, Fred was born at 11:52, and George followed at 11:59. So today is your birthday. We’ve spent all these years saying that you were so wild because you were born on April Fools’, but I suppose you’re really just crazy without any mitigating circumstances.

Your mum is sending another owl with your presents. Have a great birthday.

Love from,
Dad


“What’s it say, Gin?” Ron asked. Ginny handed the letter over to him and looked back at the twins. They had turned to stare at each other, but their mouths still hung open.

Their reverie was interrupted by the arrival of a school owl bearing a small parcel. Woodenly, Fred pulled it open, and two identical knitted scarves fell out onto the table. Each of the twins picked one up and dutifully wrapped it around his neck, all without actually looking at the items at all.

“Bloody hell,” Ron said as he finished the letter. “They really did lose their birthday.”

Whenever Ginny and Harry spotted her brothers in the halls that day, they seemed subdued. Perhaps even a little quiet, if such a thing were possible for the Weasley twins. That evening, the young pair approached the older pranksters in the common room.

“Happy birthday, you two,” Ginny said, holding out a large envelope decorated with orange and yellow stripes. “Sorry to hear about the date thing, but we got these a couple of weeks ago by owl.”

George opened the envelope and pulled out two one-galleon gift certificates for Zonko’s Joke Shop. Ginny leaned forward and whispered, “We weren’t sure what you’d need most, so we thought we’d let you pick.”

“Thanks, Ginny. Thanks, Harry,” Fred said. “That’s really . . . great.” He sounded as though all the hope in the world had died.

“Fat lot of good it’ll do us,” George grumbled.

“Why’s that?” Harry asked.

“We had all sorts of things planned for tomorrow,” Fred lamented. “Dancing quills, walking cauldrons, every-flavour toothpaste . . . loads of stuff.”

“You can still do it, can’t you?” Ginny wondered.

Don’t forget, we need to double-check our toothpaste tomorrow anyway, Harry said.

“What’s the point? If we go around pulling pranks tomorrow, it’ll be like we’re pranking ourselves as much as anyone else.”

“Pathetic, that’s what it’d be,” George concluded.

“Oh,” Ginny said. “Well, sorry about that. I bet you can use all that stuff later on, though.”

“Yeah, s’pose we will.”

Apparently, the twins really were put off of pranking on April Fools’ Day, because the day’s classes passed without any interruptions. Angelina, Alicia, and Lee all joked and laughed around the twins at mealtimes, trying to cheer them up. The two brothers seemed less upset than they had the day before, but what few jokes they offered in return to their friends’ efforts lacked the twins’ customary sharpness and verve.

Near the beginning of dinner that evening, Errol flew into the Great Hall again, this time bearing a bright red envelope. The battered old owl dropped it in front of Fred and George and then flapped out of the hall without stopping.

“A Howler?” Fred wondered. “We didn’t do anything this time.”

“Best open it anyway,” George said listlessly.

Fred pulled open the top of the envelope, and Arthur Weasley’s voice boomed across the cavernous hall.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY, Fred and George Weasley! Yes, that’s right, today is April Fools’ Day, and it is your birthday. Fred was born at 12:02, and he had the cutest little nose. George came along at 12:09, and everyone said how much he looked like a little angel. We’ve got the birth certificates to prove it.

“You’ve just gone all day on April Fools’ without causing any trouble. Congratulations! You’ve been had!”

Perfect! Ginny said, watching the twins’ identical looks of shock.

Your dad got it just right, didn’t he?

Just before the red envelope burst into flames, Mr. Weasley’s voice emerged again at a lower volume. “And it wasn’t your mum and I who pranked you, boys. For that, you need to look around for your betters.”

Harry paled. You’ve finished eating, right Gin?

I’m stuffed. Really stuffed
, she said rapidly. Time to go?

Harry got up from his seat as casually as he could and set off down the length of the Great Hall. Already going.

Wait for me! Ginny said, scampering to catch up with him. As they reached the doors and walked into the entrance hall, Ginny glanced over her shoulder to see the twins striding towards them, their longer legs letting them catch up to the first-years quickly. Run! she cried.

Out of sight of the students still at dinner, Harry and Ginny broke into a run. They climbed the stairs as quickly as they could, heading for the relative sanctuary of Gryffindor Tower.

We can hide in my dorm room since everyone else is still at dinner, Ginny said.

Can’t we just . . .

Harry reached the fourth floor with Ginny close behind, and they started down a short hallway to the next staircase. Just before they reached it, the twins burst out from behind a tapestry and bore down on them. The identical redheads were grinning, but Ginny and Harry knew that it was not a grin that boded well for them.

. . . go there directly? Harry finished.

Just as George got close enough to reach out to grab Harry, the two first-years transported themselves to Ginny’s bed in quick succession.

Now what, Gin? They could wait for us in the common room all night, and people will get suspicious if we aren’t seen there tonight.

Err . . .
they pondered the problem for a moment. Okay, we’ll do that, Ginny said.

Harry transported over to his own room and dug the Invisibility Cloak out from under his pillow. He heard the door to his dormitory slam open, and he returned to Ginny’s bed before his curtains could be ripped open.

Well, they’re not stupid, he said.

But they’re not girls, so we’re safe here for now.

Are you completely sure they haven’t figured out a way around the alarms?

Well, no,
she admitted slowly. But I think we’d have heard by now if they had.

Ginny slipped under the invisibility cloak and opened the door as quietly as she could. Tiptoeing down the stairs, she peeked into the common room. Fred and George had turned a sofa to face the girls’ stairs and were staring straight into the space where Ginny stood.

That’s eerie, she said as she returned to her room and shed the cloak.

So long as they’re both there.

Harry climbed off Ginny’s bed and knelt down beside it. He pulled a large box out from under the bed and handed it to her, and she wrapped her arms around it to hold it up. Good luck, Harry, she said with an encouraging smile.

He took a deep breath and went back to his own room. Once there, he opened the door and walked openly down the stairs. Just before he came into sight of the common room, he stopped and called out. “You can’t catch us if we don’t want you to, but we’ve got something for you if you’ll let us be.”

The sofa scraped against the floor as the twins leapt to their feet. “Trying to bribe your way out of trouble, Potter?” one of them yelled.

“We prefer to think of it as being prepared for all eventualities,” he replied.

“Come on out, then. Let’s see what you’re offering.”

“Alright. But I don’t have it. Ginny does, and if you mess with me, you’ll never see it.”

Harry stepped cautiously down the last few steps and found the twins watching for him. “What’s your offer, then?” Fred asked with a suspicious scowl. Harry and Ginny knew that the twins were not truly serious in their anger, but all four students enjoyed the game.

“Come on, Fred,” Harry said. “Do you really think that Ginny would let us get away with giving you gift certificates for your birthday?”

“We were a little distracted at the time,” George said with a frown, “but now you mention it, yeah. That’s not like our Ginny at all.”

“Well, we got you some real presents to balance out the joke,” Harry said. “We give them to you, and you leave us alone.”

“Sounds a bit one-sided if you ask me,” Fred offered. “We don’t even know what we’re getting, but we’re giving up on all sorts of potential joke opportunities.”

Damn. Plan B, Ginny said.

Harry sighed. “Alright. You get the presents, and you get one prank on us without any revenge. Only the one, however.”

The twins’ eyes lit up. “Any prank at all?”

“If you go too far, then all deals are off, and we’ll retaliate in kind.”

“And who gets to decide what’s too far, then?” George asked.

Harry shrugged. “If you think something might be too much, it probably is.” Ginny gave him an idea. “And it would be much more impressive to come up with something good that isn’t too much, wouldn’t you say?”

The red-haired boys snorted. “Yeah, alright. What’s the time limit?”

“Err… before the end of term.”

“Good enough. It’s a deal.”

A moment later, Ginny walked cautiously down the stairs, clutching the large box to her torso.

“Merlin, Ginny, that thing’s half as big as you are,” George said, striding across the room to relieve Ginny of her burden.

“Thanks, George,” she said. “Happy birthday.”

George set the box on a table, and Fred untied the string holding it closed. He set the lid to one side, and the twins’ eyes widened when they saw the contents. Fred reached into the package and lifted out a solid red Beater’s bat. Its handle was wrapped in leather cording to provide a sure grip, and the words “Fred Weasley” were written along one side in shining golden script. George had an identical bat with his name on it.

“Bloody hell,” George said reverently.

“You don’t have school brooms, so why should you have to use school bats?” Ginny asked. “We thought you might like your own.”

“Yeah,” Fred breathed. “These are . . .”

“Awesome,” George finished. “But . . .”

The twins both looked intently at Harry and Ginny, who had moved to stand together. “They must have been awfully expensive.”

“They’re a bit much, we know,” Harry said. “But . . . well, it’s sort of a one time thing. Just to say thanks, you know?”

“You two have been really great to us,” Ginny said in a quieter voice. “I mean . . . everything would have been a lot worse without you. So just take them, alright? Keep Harry safe from Bludgers for me.”

“Alright, Gin,” George said just as softly. “Thank you, both of you.” Ginny hugged her brothers one at a time, and George clapped Harry on the shoulder.

Fred sighed theatrically. “You know what this means, don’t you, George?”

“I do, old bean. I do, indeed.”

“What does it mean?” Harry asked cautiously.

“It means there’s not going to be any payback,” George explained.

Fred nodded. “Wouldn’t be right. Can’t claim payback when we owe you, can we?”

“Keep the prank,” Ginny said, grinning. “You deserve a chance to at least try to top us. You won’t succeed, of course, but we’re certain your effort will be mildly amusing.”

“Oi!” the twins said together, their usual mischievous expressions returning in full force. “Now you do deserve a prank.”

“Feel free to try,” Harry said.

“Oh, we will,” Fred promised. “That stunt you pulled was great, I must admit. Really top-notch. And getting Dad to help was genius.”

“But we have some small talent ourselves,” George continued, “and we will find a way to top this.”

“Try mint-flavoured whipped cream,” Ginny suggested. “It’s my favourite.”

“What is it with you and green things?” Fred asked.

Ginny pulled her ponytail in front of her shoulder and shook the end at her brothers. “This look familiar? Green matches wonderfully.”

Fred shrugged. “Only if you care about matching.” He looked down at the bat in his hand, and then he set it gently back into the box. “Did you two get a chance to eat?”

Harry grinned sheepishly. “Not really. There was something about being chased by Hell’s Carrots that ruined our appetites.”

George’s eyes widened in delight. He turned to his twin and said, “Shirts!”

“Absolutely!” Fred answered, nodding his head emphatically. He picked up the box containing the two Beaters’ bats and started towards the boys’ staircase. “I’ll be right back.”

A few moments later, Fred came back down the stairs. “Let’s go, then. We’ll head back down and come up with a suitably impressive story about why we all had to run out of there at the same time.”

“I, for one, think that our scenario should include a troupe of dancing cats,” George said, opening the portrait for the rest of the group.

“Tabby cats or tortoiseshell?” Ginny wondered.

“Well, tabbies, of course.”

“Yuck, no. Nobody would believe dancing tabby cats. Make them tortoiseshells, though . . .”

The four friends wandered back to the Great Hall, discussing ever more outlandish ways to explain their absence.

“Can we include a wild Snidget?”

“What about some significant looks? Every story needs significant looks.”

“Cookbooks! We must have cookbooks!”

“Why not cooked books? Ginny could give us lessons.”

“ ‘Sadly, the two oldest and most frail of the adventurers never returned . . .’ ”

“They’re having more fun elsewhere.”

“We can only hope.”

Fred stopped abruptly on the stairs leading to the first floor and turned to face the other students with a serious expression, which stopped their progress and their banter. “My friends, we have almost committed a horrible offense.”

“What’s that, Fred?” George asked.

“There are five hours left in April Fools’ Day, and we were prepared to let them pass without an incident of any kind.”

“That’s horrible!” George moaned.

“Truly tragic,” Ginny said, rolling her eyes.

“Who shall we prank, then?” George asked.

“Everyone, of course,” Fred said. “These two won’t settle for anything less.”

Harry shrugged. “It’s not our fault that we think in grander terms than you two.”

“What are we going to do, then?” Ginny asked.

The group was silent for a few minutes as the twins pondered their options. Harry and Ginny were happy to let them think up the prank, especially considering that it was their birthday.

“Fred,” George said suddenly. “Remember those badges we made for these two at Christmas?”

“Of course,” Fred said. “A nice bit of work. Nothing spectacular, but well done.”

“Those things are great,” Ginny added.

George bowed from the neck. “Why thank you. I was thinking . . . you know, the charm we used on those buttons really just changes the hair colour of whoever touches them, right?”

“Right,” Fred agreed.

“Well, who says we have to put the charm on a button?”

“A fascinating thought, George. Truly. Do continue.”

“What if we cast it on the tables?” George asked. “Then, anytime someone taps the table, it will change their hair colour.”

“Splendid idea,” Fred said, “but how are we going to cast a spell on the house tables while everyone’s sitting at them? We don’t have any time or space to prepare something like that.”

“That’s easy,” Ginny said.

“It is?”

Harry grinned. “Of course. Don’t cast it on the tables at all.”

“They’re doing it again, Fred. Teasing us.”

“All we have to do,” Ginny whispered, “is cast it on the flagstones outside the doors. Stepping on one is as good as tapping it, wouldn’t you say?”

“You know, I think she’s right,” George said.

Fred nodded. “So whenever someone leaves the hall . . .”

“They become Weasleys.”

“What?” Ginny asked. “Not pink?”

“Not this time,” George answered. “This time, we’ll make absolutely sure that everyone knows who’s done the deed.”

“Half of who’s done it, you mean,” Harry said.

“Well, yes.”

“Too bad we can’t get the professors that way,” Fred said. “They won’t go near the doors until they’ve removed the spell, once they see what it does.”

Harry and Ginny thought for a moment, and then grinned slowly. “Can you teach me that spell?” Harry asked.

“Sure,” George said. “It’s easier than most first-year spells, but nobody bothers teaching something that useless. Why?”

“Leave the professors to us,” Ginny said, smirking mischievously.

Five minutes later, Harry had mastered the simple charm and practiced it a few times on a Knut. Then, as Ginny and the twins continued their walk down towards the Great Hall, he transported back to his bed and put on the Invisibility Cloak.

Ginny stepped into the entrance hall and walked towards the huge doors into the Great Hall.

“What are you going to do, Gin?” Fred wondered.

“Me? Absolutely nothing.” She reached the doors and leaned down to peer through the large, ornamental keyhole. On the other side of the door, she could see the long aisle running between the house tables and up towards the high table.

When he could see his destination, Harry transported himself into the centre of the Great Hall, careful to make as little noise as possible as he landed. Then he crept up the hall towards the professors’ table and walked to one end, near Professor Sinistra.

Carefully and quietly, Harry charmed the flagstones between the end of the high table and the wall of the Great Hall. Then, backing away from the charmed area, he tiptoed to the other end of the table and repeated the process.

Let’s make it more interesting, Harry said.

In the entrance hall, Ginny grinned at her brothers, who were staring at her with expressions of deep suspicion and the slightest hint of awe.

Instead of transporting back to his dorm room, Harry walked backwards along the centre of the hall towards the doors, whispering the charm at random flagstones as he went. When he reached the end of the house tables, he returned to his dorm room, stowed the Invisibility Cloak under his pillow, and then transported back to Ginny’s side.

“All done,” he said, smiling broadly.

“How did you do it?” George asked, fascinated.

“Trade secret, George,” Ginny replied.

Fred sighed. “We’re going to regret ever telling you that, aren’t we?”

“Don’t you already?”

“We’re getting there.” George shook his head. “Alright, you two go in first. We’ll follow along and charm these flagstones before we open the doors.”

Harry and Ginny nodded, and then they opened the doors to the Great Hall and stepped inside. They crossed to the side of the hall and then up to their seats at the Gryffindor table, going nowhere near the charmed flagstones in the centre aisle.

“You survive the twins?” Ron asked quietly.

“Yeah,” Harry said. “We had to promise to let them get us later.”

“Raw deal, Harry. You never know what they might do.”

He shrugged. “We told them that if they went overboard, all bets were off, and Ginny got them to believe it would be more impressive to do something that wasn’t too outlandish.”

The doors swung open again and the twins strode proudly into the room. They also avoided the centre aisle, walking up between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables to sit with Lee, Angelina, and Alicia.

Dinner was uneventful for the next quarter-hour, and Harry and Ginny got a chance to eat without interruption. Then, the first group of students stood up from the Slytherin table and walked down the side of the hall towards the doors.

Slytherins! Harry exulted.

Bit of a bonus, yeah?

A burly sixth-year pulled open the doors, and the group crossed the threshold into the hall beyond. As they stepped through the doors, every student’s hair turned a bright Weasley red.

The Slytherins themselves were the first to notice the change. They pointed at each other’s heads and cried out, which attracted the attention of their classmates who were still eating. Soon, all eyes were on the crowd of scowling red-haired students in the doorway.

A tall girl, who normally had black hair, looked up at Professor Snape. The dour man’s lips thinned. He drew his wand and motioned sharply for the group to come to him. When the Slytherins stepped back across the threshold, however, each student’s hair reverted to its normal colour. Snape’s eyes narrowed.

Well he’s not that stupid, Ginny said. He’s figured out that it has something to do with the doors.

Too bad he doesn’t know the rest, isn’t it?


The Potions professor rose from his chair and walked down to the end of the high table. He crossed Harry’s line of flagstones, and his hair instantly became as red as his students’ had been. The colour contrasted sharply with his sallow skin and black robes, but Snape himself was unable to see the change. Students throughout the hall, except at the Slytherin table, began to laugh at the ridiculous sight.

Sneering at the students around him, Snape strode down the centre aisle of the hall towards the doors. As he walked, he touched many charmed flagstones, and his hair flashed randomly from black to red. Students who had been laughing before were now howling openly, led by Fred and George. Ginny thought she spotted tears of mirth in her brothers’ eyes.

Snape finally realized what was happening, and he stopped just short of the main doors. His hair happened to be red at that moment, but as he spun around to look back at the massed students at their tables, his foot touched another flagstone and his hair became black again.

Without hesitation, Snape’s enraged glance found Fred and George. He started towards them, but as his hair flashed to red again, he stopped and seemed unwilling to risk the charm to approach the twins.

To Ginny’s surprise, Fred and George stood up at their places. Each of them dug into his pocket, pulled out a handful of something, and then stepped up onto the bench of the Hufflepuff table. With all eyes on them, they carefully tossed a collection of tiny glass vials into the center aisle of the hall.

Dungbombs!

Ugh!
Harry said. Let’s get out of here.

The other students had come to the same conclusion, and a massive stampede began as all four houses scrambled to get away from the spreading reek of the dungbombs. The students who had been sitting with their backs to the centre aisle had the easiest time escaping, but as they ran from the hall their hair flashed rapidly back and forth from its natural colours to red.

All of the Gryffindors and Slytherins, and half of the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, avoided the centre aisle as they jostled towards the main doors in a confused cluster. When they reached the doors and spilled out into the hallway, however, they all managed to touch one of the flagstones on the threshold. As a result, nearly all the students lingering outside the Great Hall or already departing for their common rooms had vividly red hair.

Harry and Ginny ran along with the rest of their housemates, and Harry’s hair became as red as anyone else’s as they finally escaped the now-fragrant confines of the Great Hall. Instead of heading up the stairs to Gryffindor Tower with Ron, Hermione, and Neville, they waited at the side of the doors and looked back inside.

Fred and George still stood on the Hufflepuff table, pinching their nostrils together with one hand and beaming at the confusion they had caused. The professors were filing out a side door, avoiding both the dungbombs and the charmed flagstones. The only exception was Dumbledore. On his way out of the hall, he deliberately sidestepped to the end of the high table, and his long, white hair and beard turned bright Weasley red. With a quick wink at the twins, he left the hall.

After another minute, the only people left in the Great Hall were Fred, George, and Professor McGonagall.

“Fred and George Weasley!” she called out, fanning the air in front of her face.

“How about tomorrow night, at eight, in your office?” George yelled back, his voice nasal as he continued to hold his nose.

“Yes!” McGonagall said forcefully. “And every night for the next week. Ten points from Gryffindor. Each!” She turned and marched towards the side door, but she paused before leaving the Hall. “Bring your own toothbrushes, Weasleys. You’ll be working in here.”

“Yes, Professor,” the twins chorused, their grins never slipping. When McGonagall had left, they hopped down from the table and hurried down the hall to the main doors. As soon as they left the room, Harry and Ginny pushed the doors closed in an effort to trap the horrible stench of dungbombs inside the Great Hall.

Beaming, the twins turned to Harry and Ginny. The four students were alone in the Entrance Hall. “That was brilliant, you two. Snape’s hair . . . ” Fred trailed off into choked laughter.

“Thanks,” Harry said. “The dungbombs were a stroke of genius, too. But don’t come any closer to us, okay?”

“We’ll spare you this time,” George said. “I hope you missed the worst of the smell.”

Ginny huffed and rolled her eyes. “We’ll be fine, just as soon as I spend an hour washing my hair.”

“Worth it, though, wasn’t it?” Fred asked.

“Yeah, it was worth it,” Harry said. He and Ginny started up the stairs. When they reached the first platform, they turned around and looked down at their odiferous fellow pranksters.

“Happy birthday, you two,” Ginny called.

“Thanks, Gin!”

“Best birthday ever,” George yelled.






A/N: Portions of the dialogue between Snape and Quirrell are quoted from canon.
Garry Kasparov did not actually publish his book, Lessons in Chess, until 1997. However, if I’m allowed to monkey with the facts of HP canon, I don’t see why I can’t change the facts of real-life canon.
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