Once Fred and George had resolved to address Kyle’s schedule later, they dropped the topic. After breakfast, they all headed up to the attic, where Fred pulled out his own Hogwarts letter and book list, heavy with Lockhart’s titles.
“All Lockhart’s books,” he groaned. “The new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher must be a fan… maybe a witch like Mum.”
“Oh, I see it,” George said dramatically, holding up an orange as if it were a crystal ball. “This year’s Defense Against the Dark Arts class… total disaster.”
“That doesn’t take much divination,” Kyle replied, peeling his “crystal ball” and popping a slice into his mouth. “When has Defense Against the Dark Arts not been a disaster?”
“Oren was good,” Fred added, glancing at Kyle. “Well… if he hadn’t turned out to be a dark wizard…”
“True,” Kyle agreed with a shrug. By teaching standards alone, Oren had been the best Defense Against the Dark Arts professor in years—too bad he’d been a dark wizard with less-than-friendly intentions toward Kyle.
The conversation took a brief, somber turn, and George, feeling the shift, put his book list aside and rummaged in a corner for one of their current projects: a Trick Wand prototype.
Since their Skiving Snackboxes project had stalled, Fred and George had been spending their days fine-tuning their Trick Wands. Externally identical to real wands, these Trick Wands would turn into random rubber objects if someone tried casting a spell with them. With Kyle’s help, they had nearly perfected the design, though they were still struggling with one detail: getting the Trick Wand to transform only when a spell was attempted.
Kyle, however, had left this last part to them—he was willing to help, but he also wanted to ensure they were learning by solving the final hurdle themselves. Plus, their dedication meant he could get a bit of peace and quiet.
All morning, Fred and George worked tirelessly on stabilizing the Trick Wand, while Kyle focused on his own project: updating his map of Hogwarts. After two years in the “map business,” he’d noticed others copying the concept, cutting into his customer base. As the maps were fairly easy to make, even first-year students had started drawing their own.
It was time, Kyle decided, for an upgrade. His new design, which he had shown Nicolas in Paris, was the prototype for an enhanced map that would show real-time movement and directional guidance. Now, he just had to simplify the production process to make it viable for mass production. It didn’t need all the bells and whistles; as long as it could display routes in real-time, it would restore his competitive edge.
Each of them worked on their projects in the attic, and for a few hours, the atmosphere was peaceful and focused.
But this harmony didn’t last. Shortly after lunch, an earsplitting noise pierced the air outside. A few minutes later, Fred, who had been finding it increasingly hard to concentrate, leaned out the attic window to investigate and saw Ron below, yelling something incoherent.
“Will you be quiet!” Fred shouted.
Ron, who was holding a broomstick, froze and stared up at Fred with a look of shock, as if he’d just seen Snape dancing ballet. “Mum!” he yelled, dashing back toward The Burrow. “You have to come see—Percy’s turned into George!”
Apparently, he’d mistaken Fred for George yet again.
“What are you talking about? What’s supposed to be wrong with me?” Percy’s voice chimed in irritably as he leaned out of his third-floor window, glancing down with an impatient expression. “And could you all be a little quieter?”
Ron stared back and forth between Percy’s window and Fred standing in the attic. Already bewildered, he now looked completely lost.
“When are our little brothers going to get clever?” Fred sighed theatrically. “But you know, George, I think I finally understand how Percy felt.”
“Absolutely,” George replied with a smirk, “it’s impossible to concentrate with all this racket outside.”
“Which means that from now on—”
“Hey, hey, let’s not go overboard,” Fred interrupted. “Ron’s the one causing all the noise, after all. We’re usually as quiet as a kneazle!”
“True!” George shot Ron a disapproving look, then a mischievous grin crept across his face. “Speaking of which… do you remember what Ron’s wand looks like?”
Fred’s eyes sparkled. “Oh, I remember. Seven Galleons down the drain,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “So you’re saying…?”
“Yes, precisely… exactly what I’m saying.”
“Where does he usually keep his wand…?”
“In his robe pocket.”
“But he doesn’t wear his robe when he’s out playing Quidditch…”
The two exchanged mischievous grins, practically rubbing their hands together with excitement. Kyle, watching from the side, shook his head and remarked, “I thought that Fake Wand wasn’t fully working yet?”
“Exactly why we need someone to test it for us,” Fred replied, his tone perfectly reasonable.
“Only by finding out what doesn’t work can we make improvements,” George said with a wink.
After that, the twins seemed to lose interest in their attic projects and dragged Kyle outside with them.
In front of The Burrow, Mrs. Weasley was scolding Ron for being so loud and disturbing Percy while he was reading. Fred shot a glance toward Percy’s window and muttered to George, “You know, it’s odd… Percy just got twelve O.W.L.s, but he hasn’t been bragging. And he’s even busier than usual.”
“Very suspicious,” George agreed, narrowing his eyes thoughtfully. “And did you notice? His last letter had a pink address label. He claimed he ran out of regular ink, but that doesn’t sound quite right…”
They made their way back to The Burrow, where Fred slipped inside under the pretense of grabbing his broomstick. When he came back out, he flashed a quick “got it” sign to Kyle and George.
To avoid raising suspicions, the group headed up the hill with Harry, and they spent the next few hours playing an energetic round of Quidditch.