kbinnz - Harry's New Home

Motivated by equal parts adolescent male bravado and testosterone-fuelled stupidity, the twins ignored this face-saving opportunity to withdraw. "Push off, Jones," Fred said, his success with the Americans making him disastrously overconfident. "We're not at school now - you can't tell us what to do."

"Does your school have prefects too?" George asked the Americans with a rather rude glance at Jones. "Ours are just awful - bossy and full of themselves."

Jones' eyes narrowed, but her voice remained even. "Did you know that Professor Snape classified this as a school outing? That means I'm authorized to use my prefect authority outside of Hogwarts."

George rolled his eyes, encouraged by the American girls' giggles. "Oooooh, 'prefect authority'. I'm shaking in my shoes!"

"Go snog Percy, Jones - we're busy here. We'll move when we bloody well want to," Fred declared grandly, carried away by the Americans' admiring glances. Both twins turned their backs to her in an unmistakable gesture of defiance and disrespect.

Jones didn't bother to reply. She just drew her wand and gave it a flick while murmuring a spell, then walked away.

"Is she gone yet?" Fred whispered to George.

George sneaked a quick look over his shoulder. "She's walking back to Percy and the kids," he whispered in tones of ineffable relief, and the two exchanged a look of triumph. They had vanquished Jones! This would make them legends at Hogwarts!

"So, erm, how long are you in England for?" George asked hopefully.

"Yeah, maybe we could get together and - hic!" Fred jerked with an unexpected hiccup and was flustered when the Americans stared at him in amazement then burst into loud laughter. He turned to his brother, only to find George gazing at him in dismay.

"You're bright blue!" George hissed at him, and Fred looked down, realizing that he had, in fact, turned a particularly fluorescent shade of blue.

"What the -" Fred spun to stare after Jones, then at a hic! from behind him, he turned back to find a bright green George staring miserably down at himself. The American girls were leaning against the wall, shrieking with glee.

"Well," Fred struggled to smile, "it could have been worse. For Jones, this isn't such a bad - hic!" Worriedly, he looked down, but to his surprise he found that he was restored to normal. He sighed in relief. For Jones that was indeed a very gentle warning.

Seeing him returned to normal, the Americans' giggles began to resolve. "Did it hurt?" the blonde asked curiously. "You looked really funny!"

"Nah," Fred said with what he hoped was a devil-may-care laugh. "All in good fun."

The Americans began to burble on about some sightseeing they had done, and Fred listened politely at first, but then became aware of a nagging itch on his bum. He squirmed as discreetly as he could, but the itch just worsened. And worsened. "Erm, George, I think we need to go to the loo," he said, signaling frantically to his brother.

George gave him an annoyed look. "If you need to go, then go already," he hissed. "I'm busy talking!" He smilingly turned back to the brunette. "You were saying that you really liked the Tower?"

"Sure! All those jewels? And the ghosts were so... ghostly!" she shuddered dramatically, and George's eyes snapped to her chest.

"I - erm - " He was saved having to think of a reply by a hic! And then he too was back to his normal color. "There!" he beamed. "That's better! Now, how about Harrod's? Have you been there? The magical wing, I mean."

Fred, now dancing from foot to foot, waited and sure enough, within about 10 seconds, George's animated conversation dimmed and a look of distraction appeared on his face. Then a horrified expression of understanding dawned and he looked frantically at his brother. "Erm, we've got to go!" he blurted. "Be right back!"

Leaving the surprised girls behind, the twins ran for the nearest loo, both hands clutched to their bums. Once inside the thankfully empty toilet, they tore down their trousers and pants, only to discover there was nothing visible on their backsides. "But it itches!" Fred wailed, scratching madly.

"It's worse than dragon pox," George agreed mournfully, scratching and wiggling in his turn.

"What - hic! - are we gonna do? I mean, we can't go out in public scratching at our arses like this!" Fred said, then paused. "Hey. It's gone."

"Yeah, but now you're yellow." George's gloom was unrelieved as he kept scratching at the infernal itching that still tormented him.

Fred paled as much as his brightly colored complexion would allow. "You don't suppose we're just going to keep on like this, cycling between being some ridiculous color or clawing at our arses?"

George just looked at him. "This is - hic! - Jones, remember?"

Fred groaned. And hiccuped.

Eventually, they were forced to leave the sanctuary of the toilet by an influx of older boys who greeted their appearance with sniggers and coarse remarks. The twins fled, unhappily reflecting on how unpleasant it felt to be run off by bullies who were older than you. They tried to find an inconspicuous corner, but their flashing colors and socially unacceptable scratching guaranteed that they attracted unwanted attention.

"Mummy! Look at those funny boys! Are they clowns?" one four year old piped shrilly, pointing at them.

"They're scratching themselves like the monkeys in the zoo!" Another urchin observed loudly.

The twins cast agonized looks over the rapidly gathering crowd, but if they had hoped for fraternal solidarity, they were sadly disappointed. Charlie and Bill were helpless with laughter, while Harry and his friends were howling in delight. Percy looked insufferably smug and Jones - oh, Merlin, no! - Jones had a camera.

A wordless glance passed between them, and then the twins were darting through the crowd and falling on their knees before Jones. "Please, please," they begged, abasing themselves before her. "We apologize!"

Jones smiled brightly and glanced at the clock. "You lasted 23 minutes. That's pretty good," she complimented them, then turned to the rest of the party. "Well, fellows, what do you think? Should I release them or do you think they deserve a little longer as the center of attention? After all," she nudged the twins with the toe of her boot, "you do like being noticed, right?"

"Oh, please, Jones," Fred pleaded, one hand snaking back to scrub at his buttocks. "We're sorry."

"We bow to your greater evilness and cunning," George - now a solid fuschia - groveled abjectly.

"I do think they've learned their lesson," Bill managed to gasp. "I've never seen them quite this cowed before."

"Oh, all right," she yawned, then leaned over to meet their wide eyed gaze. "But this is just a taste of what I've got in store for you the next time you provoke me. Got it?" she told them icily.

"Yes, Jones," they squeaked, nodding frantically.

And a second later they were back to normal.

The twins sighed in relief, sagging to the ground in limp puddles. The crowd quickly dispersed, now that the show was over, and Harry and his friends happily headed off to the hurricane ride. A sympathetic Charlie bundled the twins off to the snack bar for restorative milkshakes, and there they met a group of French schoolgirls from a witches' lycee outside Orleans. The twins promptly forgot the American sisters and with the resilience of youth spent the rest of the day practicing their French.

By the end of the day, all grudges were long forgotten and the entire party agreed the day had been a huge success. "This was the best present ever," Ron told Harry. "Your Da is brilliant."

"I'm going to ask my father for this for my birthday," Draco announced, then frowned. "But he'll probably make me invite people like Crabbe and Goyle and Parkinson."

"I'll ask my Da for this for my birthday too," Harry said comfortingly. "So we'll all be together again in July anyway."