Fred and George and the Elixir of Life (Year 2) (WAITING...)

Chapter 2:8

Errol shivered and looked to the sky. Clouds were gathering overhead.

"Storm's coming," said Bill. "We'd best get a move on."

"Coming, Charlie?" George asked, a few feet away. Their trusted Quidditch Captain was still combing through the ruined envelopes and packages.

"Your precious love letters will have to wait," Fred joked.

Charlie glanced up to respond but looked past them instead. When he stood, they followed his gaze. It was their dad. He was walking across the lawn, wand out and at the ready. Arthur seemed to be searching for something and smiled when he noticed them.

"Everything all right, Dad?"

"You okay?"

Mr. Weasley pocketed his wand and joined his boys near the tree. "That explains things," he said, slightly out of breath. "You lads must've set off the proximity trigger. Thought I might need to scare off a few Muggles. What's all this? Errol's been stockpiling the mail again, has he?"

"Have a look." Bill handed him the letter from Professor Dumbledore. "Fred and George are allowed to take their advanced courses early."

"Are they now? What's on offer these days?" He read the letter carefully as they made their way back to the Burrow. "The Triwizard Tournament? Smashing! I have that to look forward to now. Let's see here. Hmm, you must take Care of Magical Creatures. Always useful. Oh, and Muggle Studies. I suspect that'll be all sorts of fun. Your brothers never showed an interest in Muggle Studies."

"Because it's not interesting," said Charlie with a small laugh.

"My scaly tail it's not," countered Mr. Weasley. He passed Dumbledore's letter back to one of the twins. "Were I your age... Sadly, Muggle Studies was after my time. They instituted the course after... well, there was a tragedy at the castle, actually. A student was murdered. The Ministry took it upon themselves to establish a program of study at Hogwarts. Optional, of course. And still took decades to approve. But once and for all, the negative perception of Muggles and Muggle-born wizards would be addressed. And, if need be, reformed. Dark times, those. Count yourselves lucky, boys."

The clouds thickened as they passed the detached garage. Charlie and Bill were stunned that they had never heard about a murder taking place at Hogwarts. Not Fred and George. While their older brothers pressed their dad for more details, the twins reminded themselves privately of all they had seen in the Pensive and how young Hagrid had been blamed for the death of Moaning Myrtle, the ghost who continued to haunt one of the toilets in the girls' bathroom on the first floor. The twins were mentally recalling that they were still waiting for a full explanation from Dumbledore when Bill stopped and pointed past them, in the direction of the village.

"Dad, I think you might've been right about that trigger. Look."

They all turned to see a woman walking through the tall grass toward the house. There was something regal about her. The woman's face was stern but warm, and her dark hair fell in excessively long curls. She was finely dressed and carried a vibrantly blue briefcase. At present, she was frowning at the storm clouds and ignoring a garden gnome that seemed overly interested in swatting at the hem of her black and burgundy robe.

"Ah, splendid!" Arthur exclaimed. "I was hoping she'd be dropping by today."

When the woman noticed Mr. Weasley, she saluted him with a sturdy, authoritative wave. They met in the gravel drive and she took it upon herself to greet the boys by shaking each of their hands firmly.

"Pleasure," she said to Bill.

"Hello."

"Pleasure," she said to Fred and George.