1 fic - #07, "confessions: good for the soul"
Title: Weasley's Wizard Wheezes
Rating/Warnings: PG
Characters: Fred, George, and Molly Weasley
Summary: The twins tell their mother they're dropping out of school, moving out, and starting a joke shop. It doesn't go well.
Word Count: 1,013
Author's Notes: Yay writing!
Registered purchases?: Both!
"Just go on downstairs and tell her, Freddy!"
"Me? Why not you?"
"You know you're Mum's favourite."
"I am not! She didn't give me two slices of pie last time we were home, now did she?"
"That's because you didn't ask."
"Do we even have to tell her, do you think?"
"What, you reckon she just won't notice when all of her post that she sends to Hogwarts goes unanswered? You think she'll go to shop at Diagon Alley at Christmas, see a giant sign with the family name on it, and think, 'Oh, that's an odd coincidence' and just carry on?"
"It could happen."
"You're mad. We just have to buck up, go down to the kitchen, and tell her!"
"Tell me what?"
Fred and George wheel around, startled, to stare at their mother. Mrs. Weasley stands in their bedroom door, a laundry basket balanced on one hip and a wary expression on her face.
"Mum!" Fred exclaims, two dots of pink appearing on his cheeks. "Corking to see you."
"Lovely, really," George adds at once. "New apron?"
"Tell me what, boys?" Mrs. Weasley's tone is firm and insistent - she's come to learn how to tell if her sons are up to no good, and both Fred and George know it. "Why are you two home? You aren't due back here for another two months. Shouldn't you be in Transfiguration right now?"
"Knew we should have locked the door," George mutters.
"Fred and George Weasley," Mrs. Weasley threatens, taking a step forward, "if you two don't tell me what's going on right this instant -"
"We've quit Hogwarts."
George squawks, "Fred!" just as Mrs. Weasley exclaims, "What?!", and Fred can't help but fidget. There aren't many people on this earth who intimidate him - but his mother, in all her red-haired fury, is one of them.
"Surely you're joking," Molly says, although her voice shows no sign of being amused.
"No," George says, "it's true, Mum. We've already owled Professor McGonagall. We left an hour ago, and we aren't going back."
"Especially not with that foul toad Umbridge running things."
"Don't say that about a teacher!"
"It's true, Mum, she's miserable!"
Mrs. Weasley shakes her head. "You're mad, both of you. You boys only have a few months left. Your N.E.W.T.s!"
"We aren't taking them."
"You bloody well are taking them," she snaps, and both Fred and George shrink back a little. They can count on one hand between them the number of times they've ever heard her curse, and the sound is strange and foreign to them. "And what do you plan to do with all this free time of yours? Lounge around the house? Playing Quidditch in the garden while I prepare the meals and do the laundry and clean up after you lot? You're still children!"
"We aren't, though. We're practically eighteen! That's well over being of age," Fred reminds her.
"And we won't be lounging around the house. We actually won't be living here come June. We're opening a joke shop in Diagon Alley, and we've rented out the flat just above it."
And there it is. There's the truth, right out in the open, and the twins brace themselves for the fallout. Molly blinks at them for a moment, stunned, and then they watch as she turns pink, then red, then purple.
"You're doing what?!" she finally explodes. She drops the laundry basket, socks tumbling everywhere as she plants her hands on her hips.
"Opening a joke shop," Fred says. "We know it sounds mad, Mum, but it isn't. We have it all worked out! We have the gold for the start-up, we have products that are tested and work properly and safely, we have the premises, and we already have plenty of Hogwarts students sending owls hoping to get first crack at our new stock. It's going to work, Mum, it is!"
"And we don't need N.E.W.T.s to do it," George adds, and Fred winces. They both know how highly Mrs. Weasley regards a Hogwarts education, and Fred thinks that bit might be a little much.
Molly's floundering, they can tell, so furious that she can barely put sentences together. "I - you - how? Where did you get the gold? And if the answer is that you've nicked it from somewhere, boys, I swear on your grandfather's grave -"
"No!" Fred hastily adds. "Financial backer. Honest."
"We've nicked a lot of things, Mum, but never gold." George tries to offer her a smile.
Their mother stays silent for a long moment, as if she's trying to come up with the proper, motherly response to the news instead of just hexing them both into oblivion. Her hands, Fred notices, are shaking.
"I've already lost one son," she says finally, calmer now, and Fred feels a pang in his chest. "Don't make me lose you two, as well." Mrs. Weasley turns, leaving the spilled laundry in the doorway as she slowly makes her way back down the stairs. Each footfall is heavy, guilt filling Fred's insides with every step.
When she's gone, there's silence.
"Well," George says finally, a little awkwardly, "I reckon that could have gone better."
"Likely," Fred says, pressing his lips together. He knows that eventually, it will all be all right. His mother will come around. She'll come down to Diagon Alley and see their shop, and be so proud to see all their customers. She'll hug them and beam at them and while she'll never concede that they'd made the right choice, she'll show up once a month to see all their new products. Molly's sensible and safe, they both know, but she's their mum. It will be all right in the end. It might just take a little while to get there.
"You reckon there'll be any pie after dinner tonight?" George asks.
They both stare at the fallen laundry.
"Doubt it," Fred says sadly, and George shrugs.
"Ah well. Next time."
end.
1013/30 = 33.7 34 points for fic
+ 10 for bonuses
= 44 points for Hufflepuff!
Janna/Hufflepuff
Rating/Warnings: PG
Characters: Fred, George, and Molly Weasley
Summary: The twins tell their mother they're dropping out of school, moving out, and starting a joke shop. It doesn't go well.
Word Count: 1,013
Author's Notes: Yay writing!
Registered purchases?: Both!
"Just go on downstairs and tell her, Freddy!"
"Me? Why not you?"
"You know you're Mum's favourite."
"I am not! She didn't give me two slices of pie last time we were home, now did she?"
"That's because you didn't ask."
"Do we even have to tell her, do you think?"
"What, you reckon she just won't notice when all of her post that she sends to Hogwarts goes unanswered? You think she'll go to shop at Diagon Alley at Christmas, see a giant sign with the family name on it, and think, 'Oh, that's an odd coincidence' and just carry on?"
"It could happen."
"You're mad. We just have to buck up, go down to the kitchen, and tell her!"
"Tell me what?"
Fred and George wheel around, startled, to stare at their mother. Mrs. Weasley stands in their bedroom door, a laundry basket balanced on one hip and a wary expression on her face.
"Mum!" Fred exclaims, two dots of pink appearing on his cheeks. "Corking to see you."
"Lovely, really," George adds at once. "New apron?"
"Tell me what, boys?" Mrs. Weasley's tone is firm and insistent - she's come to learn how to tell if her sons are up to no good, and both Fred and George know it. "Why are you two home? You aren't due back here for another two months. Shouldn't you be in Transfiguration right now?"
"Knew we should have locked the door," George mutters.
"Fred and George Weasley," Mrs. Weasley threatens, taking a step forward, "if you two don't tell me what's going on right this instant -"
"We've quit Hogwarts."
George squawks, "Fred!" just as Mrs. Weasley exclaims, "What?!", and Fred can't help but fidget. There aren't many people on this earth who intimidate him - but his mother, in all her red-haired fury, is one of them.
"Surely you're joking," Molly says, although her voice shows no sign of being amused.
"No," George says, "it's true, Mum. We've already owled Professor McGonagall. We left an hour ago, and we aren't going back."
"Especially not with that foul toad Umbridge running things."
"Don't say that about a teacher!"
"It's true, Mum, she's miserable!"
Mrs. Weasley shakes her head. "You're mad, both of you. You boys only have a few months left. Your N.E.W.T.s!"
"We aren't taking them."
"You bloody well are taking them," she snaps, and both Fred and George shrink back a little. They can count on one hand between them the number of times they've ever heard her curse, and the sound is strange and foreign to them. "And what do you plan to do with all this free time of yours? Lounge around the house? Playing Quidditch in the garden while I prepare the meals and do the laundry and clean up after you lot? You're still children!"
"We aren't, though. We're practically eighteen! That's well over being of age," Fred reminds her.
"And we won't be lounging around the house. We actually won't be living here come June. We're opening a joke shop in Diagon Alley, and we've rented out the flat just above it."
And there it is. There's the truth, right out in the open, and the twins brace themselves for the fallout. Molly blinks at them for a moment, stunned, and then they watch as she turns pink, then red, then purple.
"You're doing what?!" she finally explodes. She drops the laundry basket, socks tumbling everywhere as she plants her hands on her hips.
"Opening a joke shop," Fred says. "We know it sounds mad, Mum, but it isn't. We have it all worked out! We have the gold for the start-up, we have products that are tested and work properly and safely, we have the premises, and we already have plenty of Hogwarts students sending owls hoping to get first crack at our new stock. It's going to work, Mum, it is!"
"And we don't need N.E.W.T.s to do it," George adds, and Fred winces. They both know how highly Mrs. Weasley regards a Hogwarts education, and Fred thinks that bit might be a little much.
Molly's floundering, they can tell, so furious that she can barely put sentences together. "I - you - how? Where did you get the gold? And if the answer is that you've nicked it from somewhere, boys, I swear on your grandfather's grave -"
"No!" Fred hastily adds. "Financial backer. Honest."
"We've nicked a lot of things, Mum, but never gold." George tries to offer her a smile.
Their mother stays silent for a long moment, as if she's trying to come up with the proper, motherly response to the news instead of just hexing them both into oblivion. Her hands, Fred notices, are shaking.
"I've already lost one son," she says finally, calmer now, and Fred feels a pang in his chest. "Don't make me lose you two, as well." Mrs. Weasley turns, leaving the spilled laundry in the doorway as she slowly makes her way back down the stairs. Each footfall is heavy, guilt filling Fred's insides with every step.
When she's gone, there's silence.
"Well," George says finally, a little awkwardly, "I reckon that could have gone better."
"Likely," Fred says, pressing his lips together. He knows that eventually, it will all be all right. His mother will come around. She'll come down to Diagon Alley and see their shop, and be so proud to see all their customers. She'll hug them and beam at them and while she'll never concede that they'd made the right choice, she'll show up once a month to see all their new products. Molly's sensible and safe, they both know, but she's their mum. It will be all right in the end. It might just take a little while to get there.
"You reckon there'll be any pie after dinner tonight?" George asks.
They both stare at the fallen laundry.
"Doubt it," Fred says sadly, and George shrugs.
"Ah well. Next time."
end.
1013/30 = 33.7 34 points for fic
+ 10 for bonuses
= 44 points for Hufflepuff!
Janna/Hufflepuff