Paying Your Dues

Someone in the crowd jostled his elbow. When George turned to say sorry, he recognized the journalist from the Daily Prophet, who was fast becoming a fixture in their lives. "Oh. It's you."

"What's that?" said Pratt. "Oh hello there, young George. Seen our Mr Potter around anywhere have you?"

George knew exactly where Harry was right now - enjoying drinks with Ron and Hermione further down the street. "No."

Pratt looked disbelieving. "Oh well, if you do run into him, would you tell him. Oh! Here's a coincidence!"

George looked round to see Harry running toward them.

"George! Fred says he needs to see you. Says you've forgotten to put the control charm on the final explosion." Harry belatedly saw Pratt. "Oh," he said, face going blank, "hello."

"Mr Potter! Nice to finally catch up with you. How about a few words for our readers?"

Harry looked thoughtful. "Fish, carpet, television, exams."

"Now, Mr. Potter, I'm sure you know what I meant." Pratt wagged his finger.

Harry sighed. "I am very much enjoying tonight's events, especially the entertainment provided by the Weasley brothers, of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. I'm grateful to the committee for all their hard work, and I really like the punch." He grabbed a glass from a tray being carried by a passing elf, and sipped to demonstrate how much he enjoyed it. "Mmm."

Pratt furiously scribbled down everything Harry had just said. He was too busy looking at his notes to see the face Harry made at George. "And You-Know-Who?"Pratt asked.

"I don't think he likes punch,"said Harry.

"Do you think he'll like tonight's defiant mood of the public?"

Fred interrupted as he elbowed his way into the group. "If he does, then we've done it all wrong." He looked at Harry. "I thought you were coming straight back."

Harry nodded toward Pratt. "Duty called."

Fred's eyes narrowed. He looked back down the street. "Isn't that your editor coming this way, Mr Pratt?"

Pratt looked up. "Where? Oh bugger. I was meant to have this in three hours ago. Good talking with you again, Mr. Potter." He disapparated.

George scanned the crowd. "I don't see his boss."

Fred grinned. "Not if he's not really there, you don't."

Harry grinned back at him. "Thanks. The interviews are getting boring already."

"Price of fame, Harry." He slapped Harry on the shoulder.

A huge shadow obscured the torchlight. "Sorry, sorry." Hagrid stopped to clumsily wipe up the drinks he had knocked into others. "'Lo boys. See you haven't lost your touch."

George grinned. "Hagrid! Glad you could make it. Have you seen our new range of large sweets for large people? Specially designed with you in mind!"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "You're selling your stuff even here?"

"Why not?" Fred asked. "Need to make enough money so we can hire an assistant."

"Why do you need an assistant?"

"To do our taxes!" they said together, and clinked their glasses as a hand shaped firework exploded over the crowd. As the charm took hold and the middle finger of the hand slowly extended, they heard Molly let out an indignant shriek. Fred and George exchanged glances.

"Sorry, Hagrid," said Fred.

"Sorry, Harry," said George.

"But we should be going."

"Forms to fill in."

"Taxes to file."

"Ta ra!"

And with that, they disapparated, leaving behind a very confused Hagrid, an outraged Molly, and a smirking Harry.