The Marauders - Order of the Phoenix Part Three

CXII: Ferfredsakes

George Weasley was balancing a stack of teacups and saucers on his nose, carefully levitating the next one to the top of the pile. Fred stood before him, arms spread wide. "Stand back!" Fred was saying to the crowd of second years that bustled around the twins, "You don't want to be in the line of fire should the whole stack fall!" He looked around at them, "Not that we expect it to fall, mind, George here is a master of control and balance!"

There was a clinking sound and Fred looked up, wand at the ready, but the sound was only George having successfully landed the next cup on the top of the stack. Fred looked amazed and shook his head, "By Godric, George! You've never done TEN HIGH before!" he turned 'round to the second years. "Who here had their knuts on nine? Anyone? I believe you sir... you bet he couldn't do more'n nine, didn't you?"

A Slytherin second year boy scowled and clapped two knuts into Fred's outstretched hand before he turned and stormed away.

"Aw too bad, mate - come back next time and set your stakes higher!" Fred chuckled. He looked 'round at the other kids. "Anyone want to take a bet on ten being the most he can stack?"

Roger Davies was sitting on the stairs, watching the act, shaking his head. "Oh don't be thick," he whispered, watching as a Hufflepuff boy held up a silver sickle and put his bet on ten cups being the most George Weasley could balance.

Suddenly Herbert Fleet sat down beside him. "Hullo Davies."

Roger looked at Herbert. "Fleet." Then, as Cedric sloped up and leaned against the bannister, Davies added, "Diggory."

"'lo," Cedric said. He stared at Fred and George, George bobbing his head about as the tea cups and saucers clinked and clattered, barely keeping them balanced. "What's on here?" Cedric asked, tilting his head.

"I'm not entirely sure how, but they're swindling half the lower years out of --" Davies tapped his fingers, doing some quick calculations, "-- about one galleon, twelve sickles, and thirteen knuts.... so far."

Cedric and Herbert both turned to watch the twins.

"Why haven't you stopped them yet?" Cedric asked.

"I'm fascinated how they're doing it."

Cedric laughed, "Bad prefect, you are." His lip curled in a teasing smirk and he shoved off from his perch against the bannister, walking up as Fred was magicking tea cup and saucer number eleven up... up... up... "Hey Weasleys," Cedric said, wading through the crowd of tiny students. "How's things?"

"Things are going brew-tifully," Fred answered completely straight so that Cedric almost didn't hear the pun. Fred's eyes sparkled. "How about you, Diggory?"

"Haven't talked to you in oolong time," George said, voice strained from under the stack of cups.

"What's this all you've got going on?"

"Just a little bit of fun," Fred answered, grinning. "You wanna make a bet? We've just placed the eleventh cup." Fred waved his fingers at the poor Hufflepuff boy who had bet his two sickles and grinned as the coins clinked in his palm. "You wanna give it a chai, Diggory?"

"Sure I'll have a go." Cedric reached into his pocket, glanced at Roger Davies, smirked, then dug out exactly one galleon, fourteen sickles and thirteen knuts. He held out his palm and grinned at Fred. 

Fred stared Cedric in the eyes for a moment, then glanced at Roger Davies watching from the stairs. He looked back at George, then back to Cedric. Cedric never once stopped staring at Fred, his eyebrow raised. 

"Steep bet," Fred muttered.

"Double or nothing," Cedric nodded.

Fred considered this.