Old Books and Firecrackers: Chapter V

A Harry Potter Fanfic

Year 7

The group of first years collapsed one at a time onto the cushions Fred, Lee, and George had laid out. Fred studied each student carefully to make certain they were all reacting the same. He scribbled his notes on his clipboard.

“That’s enough!”

Fred’s grip on the clipboard tightened as he heard Hermione’s voice behind them. This had nothing to do with her. Why did she keep having to get involved?

“I told you this morning, you can’t test your rubbish on students!”

Fred kept his gaze fixed on the clipboard. “We’re paying them!”

“I don’t care, it could be dangerous!” she said.

“Rubbish,” Fred muttered.

George and Lee tried to calm her. Fred didn’t help. What difference did it make if she didn’t like it?

A few of the kids started to wake up as Lee fed them the other part of the sweets. Fred studied them for signs of excessive grogginess.

“Feel alright?” George asked as he helped one girl to her feet.

“I–I think so.”

“Excellent!” Fred said, forcing a smile.

Hermione stole his clipboard and the bag of sweets. “It is not excellent!”

Fred glared at her. “Course it is. They’re alive, aren’t they?” He regretted his words immediately. The other students had never been in any danger, and his word choice would not help his case.

“You can’t do this,” Hermione snapped. “What if you made one of them really ill?”

“We’re not going to make them ill. We’ve already tested them all on ourselves. This is just to see if everyone reacts the same.”

She glared right back and, for the first time, he understood how a basilisk’s stare could kill you. “If you don’t stop doing it, I’m going to–”

“Put us in detention?” Fred asked, raising his eyebrows. She pursed her lips.

“Make us write lines?” George teased.

“No, but I will write to your mother.” Fred’s jaw dropped. George argued with her, but Fred could see she was completely serious. She shoved his clipboard and sweets back in his hands and stormed away.

Fine. Let her write to their mum. It wasn’t like she could do anything about it now. They were at school, not home, so she couldn’t throw their stuff away, and they were of age, so she couldn’t tell them what to do.

He marched up to his dormitory and George and Lee followed. George tried to discuss the results of the test, but Fred couldn’t focus. He was still burning with anger.

“Oi! Fred!” George snapped in his face and Fred jumped. “Don’t worry about what Hermione said. She won’t write home.”

He doubted that, but that wasn’t what was bothering him. It wasn’t any of her business what they did. They weren’t breaking any rules, and the kids knew what they were getting into. They were even being paid! He didn’t know why she had to butt in.

By the next morning, he had had a chance to calm down. He happened to glance at her across the table at breakfast and she dropped her fork and looked away.

He felt guilty. He didn’t know why he had let her nagging bother him so much. It never had before. He would go talk to her tonight, he promised himself.

After classes were over, George had some new product ideas he wanted to discuss, so Fred didn’t go down to the common room until late. Many of the other students had already gone to bed.

He found Hermione sitting alone. Harry was detention, but he wasn’t sure where Ron was. Maybe he had already gone to bed too.

He walked over and immediately jumped in. “I know you don’t like the Skiving Snackboxes–”

“I think they’re dangerous and reckless and I know you may think I’m joking, but I will not hesitate to write to your mother if I need to. I know for a fact she won’t be happy to know you’re still making them, and maybe she can put a stop to it since I can’t.” She didn’t listen. Wouldn’t even look up.

He clenched his jaw. “It doesn’t really involve her anymore, so–”

“Considering it involves her sons, I think–”

“That’s just it! Not everything is about what you think!” The words came out before he could stop them.

She gaped up at him. “What?”

“You try to force your opinions on everyone else! You think you know best, and if anyone disagrees, they must be wrong! You lecture Ron about his homework, and me and George about our pranks, and I’ve heard you talk about Snuffles. You have opinions on how he should act too, and I know you’d lecture him if Mum didn’t do it for you.”

“I–” she began.

Fred cut her off when his eyes lit on one of her lumpy, knitted hats lying on the ground. “And spew!”

“It’s the Society for the Protection of Elvish Welfare, and I don’t see how that has anything to do with–”

“You insist they should be freed and force them too whether they want to or not!”

She shot to her feet, knocking her parchment, quill, and books to the floor. “They should be free!” The room got quiet.

“Maybe so, but they should be free on their terms, not yours! You don’t get to decide what’s best for everyone else!”

Her face burned red and her eyes flashed. “We’re not talking about house elves. We’re talking about your products. It’s not just what I think. Your mother thinks they’re a bad idea too, and it actually does matter what she thinks. She’s going to be very disappointed when she finds out that you and George have still been developing these products and that you still plan to open that joke shop.”

“YOU THINK I DON’T KNOW THAT?” Fred roared. Everyone was staring now. “YOU THINK I DON’T KNOW THAT I’M JUST GOING TO DISAPPOINT HER AGAIN? IT SEEMS THAT’S THE ONLY THING I’M GOOD FOR.”

Hermione stared at him wide-eyed and dropped back into her chair. Fred dropped his head. He hated shouting. He hated arguing. He hated it all.

“I just thought,” Hermione began quietly, “I just thought you’d want to be more considerate now that Percy’s–” she stopped.

Fred’s head shot up and he stared at her, feeling as though she had slapped him. Her mouth was open and she looked horrified.

“Fred, I–”

But he couldn’t listen to the rest. If he didn’t get out of there now, he knew he would start yelling again, and this time he didn’t know if he could stop. He turned around and marched upstairs.

“Fred!”

He climbed the stairs to the dormitory and found all the boys staring at him.

“What?” He knew he sounded harsh. He wanted to. If he could keep them from talking to him, maybe he could calm down before he exploded. Everyone looked away except George.

“You okay?” George whispered when he flopped onto his bed.

“You lot heard that?” Fred asked.

“Mate, I think everyone heard that,” Lee said with a sympathetic smile.

Fred could feel everyone casting him curious looks. He needed out, but he couldn’t leave Gryffindor Tower without going back through the common room.

He opened his trunk and dug through it, finding his old Cleansweep broom.

“What are you doing?” George asked.

“I need some air.” Fred opened the window, mounted his broom, and flew out, ignoring everyone’s stares.

He didn’t have to fly much higher to reach the roof of the tower. He climbed off his broom and laid down, feeling like he could finally breathe.

After a moment, he realized he was trembling, but he wasn’t sure if it was from the cold, anger, or something else entirely. He covered his face in his hands.

What was the matter with him? He rarely got this angry. He shivered and pulled his robes tighter around him. He looked up at the stars, breathing slowly.

He would be glad when he and George finished school. When they didn’t have to hide their products. When they could use the gold Harry had given them and make their joke shop. When they could show their mum that maybe she could be proud of them even if they weren’t like Bill, or Charlie, or–

He wanted to throw something. He seriously considered throwing the broomstick, knowing George would come find him if he didn’t return by morning.

He felt something on his cheek and tried to brush it off, only to find he was crying. He wiped his face off angrily. What did he have to cry about?

He stared back out at the sky and after a moment he noticed a shadow cross in front of him. He sat up.

“Hey, what’s going on?” George asked as he landed on the roof as well. Fred shook his head and George sat beside him. “Well obviously it’s something. You don’t usually start yelling over nothing.” Fred winced.

“Is it about the joke shop?” George asked.

Fred shrugged. “What do you think Mum will do when we get it started?”

George sighed and looked up at the stars. “Since it’s Mum, no idea.”

Fred scratched a spot of dirt off his shoe. “Yeah, me neither.” He hesitated a moment, wondering whether he should say what he was thinking. “I almost hope she yells.”

George cast him a surprised look. “You do?”

Fred nodded and pulled his knees to his chest. “At least then she won’t be crying.” George said nothing, but he put his arm over Fred’s shoulders.

They stayed on the roof until the first rays of sunlight began to appear.

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