Paying Your Dues

The patrons of the Leaky Cauldron sat nursing their beers. Though it had been a few days since the last explosion rattled the premises, you could never tell when the next might be, so, understandably, they clutched their tankards rather tighter than was strictly necessary.

News travels fast in a small community, and there was none so small and closed as the Wizarding world of Britain. The queue for owl hire was unbelievable, and there wasn't a spare fireplace to be had in all of Diagon Alley, as word of the Weasley twins' arrest gathered pace. Before long, it was the only conversation to be had. Copies of The Daily Prophet were sold out. Danny, the newspaper boy, had retired early for the day, and treated himself to a butterbeer or three. He was swaying slightly in the tavern right now, recounting the tale to those who hadn't been quick enough with their knuts, much to the chagrin of those who had actually bought what could now be heard for free.

"'S true! Fred and George been locked up on account of cheating on their taxes! Now, I knew these guys from school like, not well mind, but we nattered now and then, and they're decent sorts. Hate authority, 'strue, but not bad fellows, not like others that could be mentioned. They stand up for those what gets done over, and help out those what need a hand. 'stotally unaccetib... unakteb... wrong what's been done to 'em! Wrong!"

General rhubarb murmurings were punctuated with loud disclaimers of the twins' guilt. Why if they were guilty, so was everyone here! The rhubarb quietened down a bit at that, and a few in the crowd looked a bit shifty. But when Aurors failed to apparate and arrest anyone, those gathered became loudly indignant again.

"He's right," said Pete. "Something needs to be done."

"Yeah," agreed Penelope, "but what? We won't get them out by complaining about it, will we?"

There was general scratching of heads at this.

"Prison break!" yelled old Light-fingered Leon from the corner. Somebody threw a half-eaten bread roll at him.

"Don't be daft! Nobody'll get within three feet of them."

"Just a suggestion." Leon sulked into his firewhiskey.

"'Plainin might help, you know," slurred Danny.

"How's that then?"

"Well, there was this time, not long after I started selling the papers, that Mary Suzenak, got arrested, and lots of people wrote to the papers and started 'plaining, and the papers started complainin' to the Ministry, and the Ministry decided that it wasn't worth the effort, and let her go." He nodded wisely, but the effect was slightly ruined by his head wobbling as the butterbeer got its revenge.

Penelope nodded. "I remember that. Might be worth a try. If we can get a howler campaign going, the Ministry might reconsider."

"They'd need a lot of persuasion..."

"Well, we'd best not waste any time then. Everybody spread the word. Convince as many people as you can to write to both the Ministry and The Daily Prophet. Point out that if it's the Weasley twins today, it could be any of us tomorrow."

There was general lethargy all round. Penelope rolled her eyes. "Tell them it could be me next, and that'd mean you'd all have to go drink at The Stagnant Pond."

It was the fastest Penelope had ever managed to clear the tavern. The only person left was Danny, who was now snoring gently into a pool of his own drool on the floor.

Penelope sighed, stepped over him, and went to find her quill.