Paying Your Dues

The explosion shook Diagon Alley. Witches and wizards going about their daily chores were momentarily thrown off their stride as the ground rattled beneath them. Every owl in the town hooted excitedly, and the carved stone gargoyles snarled and howled. The shopkeepers kept on about their business with nary a glance toward the source of the ruckus.

"Still happenin', I see," noted Hagrid.

Penelope poured him a firewhiskey and handed it over the bar. "Hasn't stopped. Day and night, for two weeks now. But we think they're getting closer to solvin' the problem. There's fewer explosions and they're further apart now."

"Hope they fix it soon."

"So do I, Hagrid. So do I." She moved off to serve another customer.

"All that racket just to make some sweeties." Hagrid shook his head sadly and downed his alcohol.

"Well," said George, attempting to wipe gunge out of his eyes, "that's one way not to do it, I suppose."

Fred was busy pulling the mess, which was rapidly turning sticky, out of his bright red hair. The hot pink goo did not compliment his colouring at all.

"Snibbets. Snibbets, where are you? I can't see."

A shrivelled house elf appeared at George's elbow.

"I am here, Master Weasley." It was pulling hot pink strings of candy out of its right ear and shaking its head sadly. "Was the experiment successful?"

"No," said George, "it was not."

"Oh I don't know," said Fred, "we can now say we know at least 73 ways not to make Balloon bubblegum."

"Yeah. And tomorrow we're going to try number 74."

George sighed, shrugged off his asbestos apron and threw it onto a congealed heap of previously ruined aprons. They had stopped trying to clean them after the first week. Even Snibbets couldn't remove the mess.

The workshop, if you could call it that, might have once had stained wooden walls, a lime plaster roof, and bleached wooden flooring. Over the centuries, these had been darkened by smoke to give an almost silver-black patina, and the little light afforded by the small lead-lined windows had been so reduced that even a hundred candles struggled to provide illumination. The many candles just added to the smoke dust on the windows, and so the vicious cycle continued.

More recently an entirely new layer of shading had been added to the room. A muggle real estate agent might be tempted to call it retro-70's chic. Anyone else would call it ghastly and be completely accurate.

Underneath the newly acquired hot pink string effect, were a splatter of puke green, swirls of duck egg blue, huge spots of acid yellow, and several plops of brown, the exact shade of which most visitors would be unable to name, but which they would be unlikely to want to touch.

Fred walked slowly over to the cauldron that had previously been filled with Top Secret Number 73. His boots sticking to the surface slowed his progress across the floor. George looked up when the absence of sucking sounds indicated Fred had made it all the way to the pot. Fred was cautiously peering inside it, attempting to scrape some of the remains off the sides with a large paddle.

"I think maybe the previous experiments are interfering with the new ones," he called out to George.

"You mean you think we should clean the cauldron."

"Yeah."

George sighed. "Well that'll set us back a week. I think we should invest in another cauldron. So we can keep one cooking while the other one gets cleaned."

"Good thinking, that man," said Fred.

"And since I'm clearly the ideas man round here, that means you're the go getter. So go get," George said.

"Righto then."

"And no sneaking off to Honeydukes for more fizzing whizbees. You're not to go spending profits on our competition," he added.

Fred paused in his attempt to make it to the door, the gleam fading from his eyes. "Nuts. Sometimes it doesn't pay to be a twin."

"I just don't get it."

"Neither do I. It should be working. "

"Well it's not, George. Fat lot of good Ever Open Eyes are going to do us if students explode when they use them."

Not to mention what Mum'll say, Fred."

They both shuddered.

"Let's try another batch then, shall we?"

"Okay. Do we need more or less of the lavender this time?"

"Do those notes you swiped from Snape have anything to say on the subject?"

Fred flipped through a thick stack of aging velum that had been bound in a black lambskin sheaf binding. Snape had always intimated his rooms were the best protected in the school, theoretically making them the best protected in the world, being that they were located in the most heavily protected of all Wizard buildings. George and Fred had used those rooms as warm up practice for their more daring raids, details of which would probably turn their father's hair white overnight.

"Nothing. Reading through these you'd think he never had it in for his students. There ought to be a least one reference to antidotes, after all the times he tried to poison us."

"I'm not sure that was deliberate."

"'Course it was. Old beak-nose always knew exactly what he was doing. You can't tell me that incident with the putrefying tar was accidental."

"S'pose not. Still doesn't help us with this though." George prodded the latest concoction with a stick. It wobbled at him. "More, I think."

"Okay. Shall we make it five drops more essence of Lavender? Then if it's too much we can bring it back down on the batch after."

"Right you are, then. Snibbets!"

A slight whiff of gunpowder announced the apparition of Snibbets next to the cauldron.

"You bellowed?" he asked dryly.

George blinked. "Bellowed? I never bellow."

"Assert forcefully, perhaps," said Fred.

"Masterfully command, also," said George.

"Persistently insist."

"But never," George paused to peer at Snibbets, "bellow."

"My apologies Masters. You asserted forcefully?"

"Bring the ingredients back up. We're going to try it again. More lavender essence this time please."

Snibbets nodded his head, and popped out of existence, to reappear, George sincerely hoped, in the storeroom, which was actually in another building, the basement in fact, of the Leaky Cauldron. This was because their own workshop was far too explosive to be keeping supplies in, and because there were no other free floors in this building. George liked the Leaky Cauldron a lot. He particularly liked their butterbeer, and for that reason he sincerely hoped the proprietors never found his and Fred's illicit stash of goods behind the ogre blood. He'd hate to have to start drinking at the Stagnant Pond.

The thing in the cauldron glooped again, this time of its own accord.

"Think we might have to placate it, Fred."

Fred nodded sagely while still looking through the stolen papers. "Try grated wormwood."

"Why grated?"

"No idea. Just wanted to sound like I knew what I was doing." He grinned at George.

"Hmph. I think maybe the reason..." George started, but Fred never found out the reason because they were both startled by yelling coming from outside the room.

"Open up in the name of the Ministry!"

"Er, which Ministry would that be?" Fred asked.

There were the hushed noises of people conferring quietly outside in the hall. Fred and George exchanged looks. The pot glooped. Then it glooped again. George glanced back at it.

"The Ministry of Magic!" said the disembodied voice. "That's what Ministry! Now open up this bloody door."

"It's not locked you know," said George reasonably.

Silence crept embarrassedly into the room, followed somewhat hesitantly by five large and loutish looking wizards in Ministry attire and a wiry man with dishwater hair. This man was carrying a portfolio.

"I have a cease and desist order here from the Ministry. You are to stop what you are doing at once, and hand all magical and non-magical items that might be used in activities detrimental to the public good to the duly authorized representatives of the Ministry. That's me and the lads here, in case you were wondering."

"Why?" asked George.

"Why not?" asked the Ministry man.

"You can't do this!"

"Yes I can."

"No you can't!"

"Yes I can!"

"Oh no you can't!"

"Oh yes I c...' The duly authorized Ministry Representative shook his head and blinked. "I am not playing this stupid game. You!" He pointed at Fred, who was wrestling with one of the men for possession of a box of ton tongue toffees."Stop that immediately and let him have it."

"Let him have it?"

"That's what I said."

"Righto then.' Fred let the box go, and the Ministry goon stumbled backward into one of his colleagues, who was unsuccessfully trying to lift cement grade chewing gum off the shelf. They both went down in a heap on the floor.

The Duly Authorised Ministry Representative closed his eyes and tapped his foot. He breathed the breath of infinite patience. The twins knew that sound well. They looked at each other. One escape route was blocked. That left disparating as their only other exit.

"You can't disparate, if that's what you were thinking," said Ministry man to the now slack jawed twins. "We've surrounded the building with an anti-escape charm."

"Why?" growled Fred.

"We've played that already," said Ministry man, as his thugs went on shrinking and packing equipment from around the room.

"Why are you doing this?" asked George. "We can't run our business without our goods."

"Should have thought of that before you dodged your taxes." Ministry man smirked.

Fred and George gaped simultaneously. "Who are you?"

"Alfred Merton. Understudy to the Undersecretary to the Personal Assistant to the Chancellor of the Wizarding Exchequer. "

George went white. "Irretrievable Revenue Division."

"That's right." Merton confirmed with a little nod of his head. "By order of the Department of Mysteries, you, as they say in the Muggle world, are "nicked". He smiled smugly and held his wand out.

"Why the Department of Mysteries?" George asked, curiously.

"Do you understand your taxes?" leered Merton.

"No..."

"There you go then."

"I'm not sure they do, you know," said Fred, who'd been chewing thoughtfully on his lip.

Merton looked confused. "Who doesn't do what?"

"Say "nicked"," said Fred helpfully.

George nodded agreement. "I'm sure it's just something they used to say on the jellyvision. Something made up."

"For effect."

"Dramatics," added George.

Merton scowled. "Shut up."

"And anyway, you can't arrest us," said Fred. "You haven't got an authorization for our arrest..."

"... Just our possessions," said George.

Merton waved his wand hand threateningly. "Doesn't matter. The point is to teach you two malcontents a lesson in proper business management. If you want a proper business, we have to manage you. Now hand over that cauldron."

"I don't think that's a good idea, really." George still had his hand on the stirring stick and was attempting to pull it out of the pot. The stuff inside really had a good hold on it.

Merton growled menacingly. "I said hand it over, kid."

"I'd really like to, but I don't actually think I can." The experiment had become bored with slurruping and had moved on to roiling. The stirring stick was pulled around slowly with it. George let go and moved back.

"That's better," said Merton. " Now just hand over the cauldron."

"Look I really don't think we should move it just now."

"Smith! Jenkins!" bawled Merton. "Pick up this cauldron!"

Two of the men came over.

The thing inside the cauldron suddenly burped loudly. Everyone froze.

"Er," said George.

Fred looked at his brother. "Is it supposed to do that?"

"No."

Everyone backed up a step. The sludge in the cauldron burped much louder. The cauldron began to shake.

"I think..." began George.

"We should run for it?" finished Fred.

"Yup."

"Nobody goes anywhere!"

"Aah. Snibbets should have been here. That was definitely a bellow."

"They might be right, boss," said one of the goon squad.

The pot was now dancing about on its tripod, as if trying to tip out its contents. The strange noises were getting stranger. Everyone in the room, Merton included, was now looking warily at the jigging cookware. They were all also trying to edge as far away from it as possible.

And suddenly...

It stopped.

No one breathed.

They all continued to not breathe for several seconds.

"Just as I thought," said Merton, making several people jump, "a blatant attempt to pervert Ministry justice. Boys, pick it up and take it away."

The lads moved in on the cauldron as Fred and George looked on in despair.

The explosion shattered windows, and roused startled pigeons from the rooftops, much to the ire of the pedestrians who were going about their shopping on a fine day.

In the Leaky Cauldron, Hagrid wiped the firewhiskey from his robes.

"Same again, love. And a napkin if you 'ave one." Then he leant over and helped an elderly wizard back on to his barstool.