...I Suppose It's A Twin Thing

Fred's Tale

It's pretty cool, being a twin. Especially when your twin is every bit as insane as you are.

Everyone always seems to focus on the negative side of being a twin. Yeah, we tended to get the same clothes, yeah, people always mistake us for each other and yeah, sometimes a girl will fall for the one who doesn't fancy her.

But on the other hand, because we dress the same, people mistake us for one another. This means alibis, especially when we're doing the sort of thing that Filch gets all uptight about.

It's strange. If one of us is someplace and making enough noise, then nine times out of ten, people will swear that we were both there. It's almost magic.

What generally is magic is what the other one of us is getting up to, two floors down and three trick staircases away.

Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.

Well, we have to test them somewhere, right? And where better to do our testing than on our favourite caretaker, Argus Filch?

Life is going to be incredibly dull when we leave Hogwarts next summer and have to cope without our chum and his mangy cat.

Still, while we're here, there's lots - and lots. Oh, and lots and lots and lots - of fun to be had.

Um...

The thing is...

You see, if I tell George, then he'll think that I've gone absolutely mad.

But...

Oh, sod it.

It's all to do with this ruddy Tri-Wizard Tournament. That's the problem.

And I don't mean that I'm worried about Harry being involved. The kid's made of stern stuff, and he's survived sharing a house with George and me. What can a bunch of doddering old teachers - and Professor Dumbledore, of course - come up with that'd faze him? Not to mention his saving Ginny's life, and all the other mad stuff he's got up to.

You know, he once flew Dad's flying car into the Whomping Willow. Him and ickle Ronniekins, anyway. I'd have killed to do that, but Harry acted like it was no big deal.

So he's barking mad, and I don't have any concerns about him being in the Tri-Wizard Tournament. He'll probably win, or at least be in there at the finish.

No, the problem with the Tournament is that, well...

Look, what you have to understand is that...

Bugger.

I suppose I should start at the beginning, shouldn't I? I mean, it'd make sense, right? It's just that being off topic is kind of fun.

Look, George and me, we're well settled into life at Hogwarts. We had a bit of a settling in period at first, you know, a couple of days when we were learning our way around and not mucking around too much. But Bill and Charlie had told us so much about the place, and Percy told us so much about the teachers, that it quickly felt just like home.

And when you feel comfortable someplace, you don't mind blowing bits of it up, right?

So by the end of our first year, George and me were pretty well known. Oh, we lost loads of points for Gryffindor and had to book detentions a month in advance because we had so many of them, but people thought we were brilliant.

Including the girls.

Now, at first it was fun, you know? The girls were just like the boys, in their way. But in our second year we made it onto the house Quidditch team. The thought of Oliver Wood referring to us as 'a pair of human Bludgers' still brings a tear to my eye. And at first, there was no difference.

Then, one day, the girls were suddenly different.

I don't know how to describe it, but they weren't just longhaired boys anymore. They were girls.

Oh, and the girls loved a Weasley in a Quidditch uniform, believe me.

At first, there wasn't much to it, of course. Just a bit of snogging. Then as we got older, it got to be more and more, well, you know. Let's just say that we could always have something for the weekend, if we wanted. And sometimes other days of the week, too.

By the end of last year, it wasn't just detentions we were booking in advance, it was time alone in the dormitory. Fortunately, it's just George, Lee and me, and we worked out a rota that kept everyone happy.

And now there's the Tri-Wizard Tournament.

Ruddy thing.

Because one day, long ago in second year, everyone on the house team got talking about the Tri-Wizard Tournament, and how cool it'd be if it was ever held again. And we made a pact that we'd all enter if it ever came up.

Ruddy pact.

Of course, this year it's being held again. And it's being held at Hogwarts. And Angelina Johnson is the only one of us who was old enough to cross the Age Line and put her name in the Goblet.

Ruddy Age Line.

Merlin's teeth, that was an argument and a half...

*

"Hey Angelina," I said. I was always one for the classic opening lines.

"Hey Fred." So was she.

"Big news about the Tournament, isn't it?" I asked.

"Yeah. I'm definitely going to enter," she said.

"Oh, right. Are you sure you want to?"

"Why wouldn't I?" she asked, turning those big, brown eyes of hers on me in surprise. "A thousand Galleons? And just think how famous the champion will be!"

"It's going to be dangerous," I said, frowning slightly.

"Nah, won't be that bad," she said, grinning slightly. "Besides, didn't I hear you telling your little brother that the danger would add spice to it?"

Arse. Yeah, I said that. Me and my big mouth.

"That's different," I said, slowly.

"Different how?" she asked, her gaze icing over slightly. I shivered.

"We're, well, we're Weasleys," I said lamely. "We're used to a bit of rough and tumble."

"And I'm not?" Angelina asked, her voice as cold as her gaze.

"A Weasley? Well, you really don't have the hair for it," I said, laughing slightly as I reached out to brush at her fringe. She slapped my hand away.

"Fred, how long have we been on the team together?" she demanded.

"Well, four years this year," I said.

"And have you ever known me shy away from anything rough?"

"Well, no."

"So why should I be worried about the Tri-Wizard Tournament?" she asked.

Dragons, werewolves, merbeasts, giant spiders... Not to mention all the spells a Tri-Wizard Champion would probably have to fight. Yeah, I could have said some of that, could have made her realise how dangerous the Tournament would be.

I could have. Instead, I just stood there, looking stupid and feeling like I'd been hit with a hammer.

Because, well, Angelina's a girl.

And if I said that to her, she'd have hit me so hard that I'd have been lucky to land within Hogwarts grounds.

But it just hit me, right then, that standing in front of me was a great friend who also happened to be a really, really attractive young woman, and one who I suddenly wanted to keep from getting hurt.

Don't you just hate it when that happens?

I blame Wood, myself. The whole time that he was captain, he drilled it into us: No dipping your quill in the team's inkpot. And he bloody well made sure that we understood what would happen to us if we started dipping and it all went wrong.

So for three years I'd been looking at Angelina as, well, a friend. Not a girl, just a good friend, and definitely not someone who I wanted very much to stop her glaring at me by shoving her up against the wall and snogging her senseless.

Now, this all could have gone a hell of a lot worse. Fortunately for me, George came past right then and spilled a bunch of fireworks in between Angelina and me. By the time we'd put them all out - oh, all right, George and me made a few more of them go off. I mean, might as well have a bit of fun, right? - the moment had passed and Angelina had calmed down a bit.

'Course, she was still glaring Killing Curses at me, but what's a guy to do?

I spent the next two weeks on tenterhooks around her, trying to avoid getting speared on that gaze of hers, the one that makes it feel like I'm the biggest piece of scum on the face of the planet.

Just for once, I was actually quite enjoying the lessons. We'd started working on our NEWTs and had loads of work to do, but Mad-Eye Moody's Defence classes weren't exactly a chore, you know? He was teaching us all kinds of useful stuff, and some of it even had a practical use. Like how to hex that Malfoy arsehole if we ever got the chance.

One of the problems with not playing Quidditch this year is that there's a lot less time to hang out with the girls. Despite what McGonagall says, the team has tended to get cut a bit of slack by a lot of our teachers when it comes to our work. This year, though, the only classes that I have with Angelina are Transfiguration and Potions, and they're not classes you can muck about in. So it was up to me, and Moody's little tips on ambushes and surprise tactics, to catch Angelina and get her on her own.

Of course, I enlisted George's help. He knew that Angelina and I had argued, and was happy to get two of the team back on speaking terms. I don't think he had any idea what we'd argued about, nor why I was so eager to get Angelina talking to me again.

"So, how am I going to apologise to her?" I asked, late one evening. It was over a month since the argument, and she hadn't shown a single sign of forgiveness yet

"Well," George said, sitting up and looking happy. "You could slide down the banister on a tea tray and crash though the doors into the Great Hall bearing a huge bunch of roses and declaring how sorry you are before the entire school tomorrow lunchtime."

I grinned. It's always nice to have someone who thinks the same way you do. I suppose it's a twin thing.

"Nice, but a bit flashy. I reckon I'll save that for Christmas," I said. "I was thinking something a bit more low key."

George looked appalled. I couldn't blame him. I don't think we've done anything low key since we were about three years old.

"Well..." he said, looking dubious. "What about doing something for her? Remember Nicola Gravstein?"

"Yeah. You dated her for about three weeks, didn't you?"

"Still my record. I was thinking about how she liked me to carry her bag around and stuff. Simple stuff like that. Be a gentleman."

"Ah, well, I'm not sure that'll go down too well, either," I said. I was starting to feel pretty miserable, and George definitely looked worried about me.

"If you told me what you were arguing about, it might help."

"I sort of suggested she couldn't handle being in the Tri-Wizard Tournament."

"Because she's a girl?"

"Well, yeah, sort of."

"Oh." George's shoulders sagged, and he looked like he was about to be ill. "You're lucky to be alive, you know that?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, Fred, this is bad. This is very, very bad. You know how mad Angelina got back in third year when Marcus Flint started putting it about that she was only on the team 'cos Oliver fancied her."

"Yeah, that was stupid. Everyone knows that Oliver bats for the other side."

"Fred..."

"Oh, alright. Back to business. How can I apologise to Angelina..."

"Just say you're sorry?"

It was Alicia, one of our other Quidditch team-mates. George perked up immediately.

"Genius," he said. "It's so simple, and it'll work."

"You really think so?" I asked. It seemed almost too simple.

"Trust me," Alicia said. "All she wants is an apology from you. I'm just sick of hearing about it all the time."

I blushed slightly, a first in my experience. Neither of the other two noticed though, probably because they were lost in their own little world. Another day I'd have had something to say about that. Now I was wondering whether Alicia's suggestion might have some merit to it. It seemed too simple.

I looked at the list George and I had prepared

Gred: Rocket powered broomstick with go-faster stripes

Forge: Fireworks display in front of all the school

Gred: Declare that you'd sooner snog Snape than argue with her a moment longer. Then snog Snape to show how serious you are.

Forge: Tickets to the next World Cup. As a player. Someone must need a good, young Chaser.

Gred: Slip McGonagall some Ton Tongue Toffee so you can spend all the next Transfig lesson apologising.

Forge: Canary Creams. Everyone likes canaries, right?

On the other hand, simple was probably good.

Just then, one of the younger girls - another twin, quite pretty but a bit young, maybe a girl for Ron? - came bursting into the common room.

"No manners, young people today," George wheezed, in an elderly manner. Alicia laughed.

"There's going to be a ball on Christmas Day!" the younger girl said, breathlessly.

Suddenly the common room was in uproar, for about five seconds, anyway.

Then they noticed that I was sitting absolutely still, not jumping up and down or shouting or any of the other reactions I save up for such momentous announcements. In fact, I was sitting there completely thunderstruck.

I'd just had the most amazing idea.

I looked up, and blushed - again! - as I realised everyone was looking at me, waiting for my reaction.

I jumped up, a huge grin on my face, and let out a bellow of delight.

Everyone else started capering and yelling too, and my grin receded slightly as I relaxed my forced expression of glee.

But it only receded very slightly, because I'd had the best idea.

Not only was I going to apologise to Angelina, but I was going to ask her to this ball.

What could possibly be better than that?

To be continued...