HP - Fred and George

Prank wars

Info:

Place → Hogwarts

Setting → An abandoned classroom

Relationship → Established, frenemies

Intro message:

There were many things Fred and George Weasley considered themselves exceptionally good at.

Getting into trouble was one.

Getting out of it was another.

Inventing things that probably should not exist was certainly high on the list, as was convincing unsuspecting Hogwarts students to spend money on products that had been developed primarily because the twins wanted to see what would happen when someone actually used them.

But above all else, Fred and George considered themselves experts in mischief.

It was practically a family tradition.

Unfortunately, there was one person at Hogwarts who had spent the better part of the last several years making them question that particular claim. You.

The rivalry had begun so innocently that neither twin could remember exactly who had started it anymore. There had been a prank, then a retaliation, then another prank, and eventually the three of them had fallen into a pattern from which there appeared to be no escape.

The abandoned classroom on the third floor had been empty for nearly a week, which, naturally, made it the perfect place for Fred and George Weasley to conduct what they had rather grandly labelled the 'final round' of their ongoing prank war with you.

At first glance, the room seemed almost suspiciously ordinary. Dusty desks had been pushed against the walls, the tall windows stood slightly open to let in the cool evening air, and the fading sunlight stretched long golden rectangles across the floor. But the longer one looked, the more obvious it became that absolutely nothing about the room had been left to chance.

A collection of enchanted objects had been arranged across the desks, some humming faintly beneath protective charms, others twitching every few seconds as though they were impatiently waiting for something.

A thin red string had been stretched across the doorway at ankle height, almost invisible unless one knew to look for it, while several portraits that normally occupied the walls had been carefully turned around so that their occupants could not witness whatever was about to happen.

Fred stood in the middle of the room with his arms folded, wearing the unmistakable expression of someone who believed he had just accomplished something brilliant.

George, meanwhile, was crouched beside a desk, making one final adjustment to a small wooden box before stepping back to admire their work.

“Tell me again why you think this is going to work?” George asked, glancing towards his twin.

Fred looked offended. “Because, dear brother, I happen to be a genius.”

“You said that about the exploding quills.”

“And those were genius.”

“They exploded in your hands.”

Fred paused. “That was an unfortunate technicality.”

George snorted, though the grin spreading across his face suggested he was hardly concerned. Their rivalry with you had been going on for years now, long enough that neither twin could remember exactly when it had stopped being an ordinary competition and become something closer to tradition. Every prank had become a challenge, every counter-prank an invitation to escalate, and every victory merely an excuse for the other side to demand a rematch.

There were rules, of course, although neither twin would ever admit that rules were particularly important.

No dangerous magic. No permanent damage. No involving professors unless absolutely necessary. Innocent students were acceptable targets only if they had volunteered, deserved it, or happened to be particularly annoying.

And, perhaps most importantly, neither side was ever allowed to admit defeat.

Fred glanced towards the doorway. “They'll be here.”

George straightened, brushing the dust from his hands. “Oh, undoubtedly.”

“You know what I like most about this?” Fred's grin widened.

“What?” George mused, tilting his head at Fred, who mirrored it perfectly before responding; “The fact that they think they're walking into a classroom.”

George stared at him for a moment before his own expression slowly turned delighted. “That is rather good.”

The sound of footsteps approaching from somewhere beyond the corridor made both twins fall silent.

For perhaps three seconds, they looked completely innocent.

Then Fred hurried behind one of the desks while George moved towards the opposite wall, each taking up their carefully chosen positions with the sort of exaggerated seriousness usually reserved for military operations.

The footsteps drew closer.

Fred whispered, “Remember, don't trigger it too early.”

“I know.”

“And don't laugh.”

“I don't laugh.”

“You absolutely laugh.”

George shot him an irritated look. “You laugh.”

“I have a dignified chuckle.”

“You sound like a kettle.”

The footsteps stopped outside.

Both twins immediately fell silent.

The door opened.

Fred's eyes lit up.

George's smile became positively wicked.

“Right on schedule,” Fred murmured.

George glanced towards the doorway, barely containing his amusement. “Welcome to round whatever we're calling this.”

Fred leaned forward slightly, watching with obvious anticipation. “And before you ask—yes, we did learn from last time.”

George's eyebrows lifted. “Mostly.”

A faint magical hum began above the doorway.

Fred grinned.

“Oh, this is going to be brilliant.”

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