Fred and George and the Toilers of Trouble (Year 1) ✔

Chapter 6:2

"Hmm...that may be. The only prophecy I see being realized is the quick failure and certain expulsion of the Weasley twins from an illustrious school."

"Seems a bit harsh, that," Fred replied softly, turning to his brother.

"Tell me, Weasleys, what readily-found leaf must you choose when brewing a tonic for repelling Hermit Fleas?"

"What?" George wondered, looking around the room. Aria Keane eagerly raised her hand.

"I think Scabbers has a case of those Hermit Fleas," Fred muttered, amused.

With a curl of his sneering lip, Professor Snape continued, "Which of the six laws on the reproduction of venom remedies incorporates fish scales from the Coregonus fontanae?"

"You've got to be joking," George said through a laugh. "How do you expect us to know any of these answers on the first day of school?"

"Don't you know, George?" Fred answered. "He's not going to teach us anything. Potions is all about pretending to know more than other people...pouring a bunch of rubbish into a pot...and then waiting around to see what happens. So, I'd say that it's law number...seven?"

The room was silent enough that the water dripping from the damp stone ceiling could be heard clearly. Their Potions master pursed his lips and narrowed his gaze.

"As I explained, your first lesson centers on cauldron cleanliness...on which you two will become the foremost authorities by spending the hour after class in detention with Mister Filch, scrubbing our vast collection of school cauldrons until I can see my reflection."

Fred yearned to follow up with another joke and Angelina held him back. The rest of the Gryffindor students kept their distance from the twins for the remainder of class, but none of them realized that the sentence was not a bother in the least. As troublesome children, Fred and George were accustomed to completing chores as punishment. Filch's cat, Mrs. Norris, was a source of constant amusement when faced with a sopping wet rag, and detention was also keeping them from attending History of Magic. Although the idea of being taught by a ghost was fascinating, the charm of Professor Binns wore off when they learned from Charlie that his 'spirited' lectures were more tedious than hearing Percy's summertime rundown on precisely why discovering concealed hallways at the castle was worth at least forty-five more house points than what he had been awarded.

By the time they had completed their first detention, the twins were late for Transfiguration, where Professor Minerva McGonagall was captivating the class by transforming her desk into a snorting, fuzzy hog.

"Mister Weasley...and Mister —" she said impatiently, pointing her wand at the closest desks. "Sit here, please. Sit...sit." The giant pig snorted at them as they trudged to their stools, startling her momentarily. "I gather that you were in detention. You must've broken a school record. As I am Head of Gryffindor House, I would like to remind you that it is only the — first — day. Perhaps you would consider spreading out your transgressions, yes? No need to fit them all in at the start of term."

Fred was busy blowing dust off of their scrappy, used textbook, A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch, when he looked up to see a tiny frown spreading along McGonagall's face. "Carry on, Professor. No need to stop on our account."

"Yeah — we'll have it sorted. Getting the lay of the land, is all," said George, his eyes on the stout hog.

"What that means, I fear to comprehend." McGonagall inhaled sharply, raised her chin and addressed the class. "Now, onto the reason we teach Transfiguration. It is one of the most controversial subjects in magical law for, by its very definition, we are dismantling one entity in order to create another. It is a useful, but selfish kind of magic, and thus can be manipulated. Which is the very reason why the Ministry of Magic has you developing a respect for it by requiring these lessons at the start of your Hogwarts education. How lovely would it be to transfigure your schoolbooks into a hearty meal, or your robes into a golden fleece? But...this is not suitable magic."

Fred flipped through their book wearing a bewildered expression. "That's all well and good, but when will we ever use this magic? I don't see myself ever needing to turn a desk into a pig. I suppose one never knows."

George raised a wagging finger in dissent. "And, hold on. Pigs are food, aren't they?"

"They certainly can be, brother."

"Must you be so bothersome?" Professor McGonagall asked through a long sigh. "If you would only use your ears more often than your mouths you would have not missed the point entirely. Seven years is a long time to attend school. If you wouldn't mind, please don't make it feel like seventy for the rest of us. There is much to be covered. Silence is a virtue, Fred and George Weasley. And for future reference, we raise our hands when asking a question. For your sakes, I shall rephrase. While there are allowances for transfiguration to alter the natural world, there are limits to the properties of life. Consider this pig, which was formerly a desk. Or Professor Dumbledore's bunny slippers. These modifications are allowable. But...do note that the Dark Arts linger on the borders of this magic. Transfiguring another person, whether wizard or Muggle, is a violation at the highest tiers of magical law. Modifying the properties of human life, through potion or spell or charm, is an abomination of magic and a defilement of our abilities."

Fred raised his hand.

"Yes, Mister Weasley."

"Could you give us an example?"

"As long as you don't go looking for it," McGonagall answered cautiously. "There is a potion that, when brewed, has the power to transform the appearance of one wizard to another of their choosing."

"Polyjuice Potion," proclaimed a Ravenclaw student from the front of the classroom.

"Yes, that is correct. Five points to Ravenclaw. Though the effects are fleeting, the damage such a potion could generate is limitless. Of course, our minds play tricks on us. They make us desire the results of dark magic when the cause may be a just one." She broke to turn her attention back to the twins, who were currently taunting the hog in a whisper. "To make this perfectly clear, imagine how much I would enjoy transfiguring a zipper over a student's mouth. No matter how sound the reason for exercising this magic may be, there is no lawful justification, even to perform upon one's self. Unless you were born with the faculties to do so, as in the case of a metamorphagus or animagus, it is a punishable offense to use transfiguration for gain and, by doing so, you will lose your station in life to the unforgiving walls of a deep and dark place, almost too disturbing to mention."

Murmurs about Azkaban, the wizard prison, wove through the classroom as McGonagall corralled the pig and returned it to the center of the room as an ordinary desk. For the remainder of the class period, they were told to change a matchstick into a pin using the spell Tempestuo. The eyes of every student were on the Weasley brothers to see if their skills with a wand were worthy of prophecy, but they soon learned that the twins' penchant for not taking things seriously was only an excuse to conceal a lack of skill. Of course, they had deliberately failed in order to quell the rumors, but that didn't come without a fair dose of mocking. When the class was excused for Astronomy, McGonagall spied as Fred and George hastily turned their matchsticks into pins and then back again before leaving the classroom, to prove to themselves that they were more than capable. It brought a reluctant smile to her very thin lips.