FIVE —
Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes
Harry spun faster and faster, elbows tucked tightly to his sides, blurred fireplaces flashing past him, until he started to feel sick and closed his eyes. Then, when at last he felt himself slowing down, he threw out his hands, and brought himself to a halt in time to prevent himself falling face forwards out of the Weasleys’ kitchen fire.
‘Did he eat it?’ said Fred excitedly, holding out a hand to pull Harry to his feet.
‘Yeah,’ said Harry, straightening up. ‘What was it?’
‘Ton-Tongue Toffee,’ said Fred brightly. ‘George and I invented them, we’ve been looking for someone to test them on all summer …’
The tiny kitchen exploded with laughter; Harry looked around and saw that Ron and George were sitting at the scrubbed wooden table with two red-haired people Harry had never seen before, though he knew immediately who they must be: Bill and Charlie, the two eldest Weasley brothers.
‘How’re you doing, Harry?’ said the nearer of the two, grinning at him and holding out a large hand, which Harry shook, feeling calluses and blisters under his fingers. This had to be Charlie, who worked with dragons in Romania. Charlie was built like the twins, shorter and stockier than Percy and Ron, who were both long and lanky. He had a broad, good-natured face, which was weather-beaten and so freckly that he looked almost tanned; his arms were muscly, and one of them had a large, shiny burn on it.
Bill got to his feet, smiling, and also shook Harry’s hand. Bill came as something of a surprise. Harry knew that he worked for the wizarding bank, Gringotts, that he had been Head Boy of Hogwarts, and had always imagined Bill to be an older version of Percy; fussy about rule-breaking and fond of bossing everyone around. However, Bill was – there was no other word for it – cool. He was tall, with long hair that he had tied back in a ponytail. He was wearing an earring with what looked like a fang dangling from it. His clothes would not have looked out of place at a rock concert, except that Harry recognised his boots to be made, not of leather, but of dragon hide.
Before any of them could say anything else, there was a faint popping noise, and Mr Weasley appeared out of thin air at George’s shoulder. He was looking angrier than Harry had ever seen him.
‘That wasn’t funny, Fred!’ he shouted. ‘What on earth did you give that Muggle boy?’
‘I didn’t give him anything,’ said Fred, with another evil grin. ‘I just dropped it … it was his fault he went and ate it, I never told him to.’
‘You dropped it on purpose!’ roared Mr Weasley. ‘You knew he’d eat it, you knew he was on a diet —’
‘How big did his tongue get?’ George asked eagerly.
‘It was four foot long before his parents would let me shrink it!’
Harry and the Weasleys roared with laughter again.
‘It isn’t funny!’ Mr Weasley shouted. ‘That sort of behaviour seriously undermines wizard – Muggle relations! I spend half my life campaigning against the mistreatment of Muggles, and my own sons —’
‘We didn’t give it to him because he was a Muggle!’ said Fred indignantly.
‘No, we gave it to him because he’s a great bullying git,’ said George. ‘Isn’t he, Harry?’
‘Yeah, he is, Mr Weasley,’ said Harry earnestly.
‘That’s not the point!’ raged Mr Weasley. ‘You wait until I tell your mother —’
‘Tell me what?’ said a voice behind them.
Mrs Weasley had just entered the kitchen. She was a short, plump woman with a very kind face, though her eyes were presently narrowed with suspicion.
‘Oh, hello, Harry dear,’ she said, spotting him and smiling. Then her eyes snapped back to her husband. ‘Tell me what, Arthur?’
Mr Weasley hesitated. Harry could tell that, however angry he was with Fred and George, he hadn’t really intended to tell Mrs Weasley what had happened. There was a silence, while Mr Weasley eyed his wife nervously. Then two girls appeared in the kitchen doorway behind Mrs Weasley. One, with very bushy brown hair and rather large front teeth, was Harry and Ron’s friend, Hermione Granger. The other, who was small and red-haired, was Ron’s younger sister, Ginny. Both of them smiled at Harry, who grinned back, which made Ginny go scarlet – she had been very taken with Harry ever since his first visit to The Burrow.
‘Tell me what, Arthur?’ Mrs Weasley repeated, in a dangerous sort of voice.
‘It’s nothing, Molly,’ mumbled Mr Weasley, ‘Fred and George just – but I’ve had words with them —’
‘What have they done this time?’ said Mrs Weasley. ‘If it’s got anything to do with Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes —’
‘Why don’t you show Harry where he’s sleeping, Ron?’ said Hermione from the doorway.
‘He knows where he’s sleeping,’ said Ron. ‘In my room, he slept there last —’
‘We can all go,’ said Hermione, pointedly.
‘Oh,’ said Ron, cottoning on. ‘Right.’
‘Yeah, we’ll come, too,’ said George –
‘You stay where you are!’ snarled Mrs Weasley.
Harry and Ron edged out of the kitchen, and they, Hermione and Ginny set off along the narrow hallway and up the rickety staircase that zigzagged through the house to the upper storeys.
‘What are Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes?’ Harry asked, as they climbed.
Ron and Ginny both laughed, although Hermione didn’t.
‘Mum found this stack of order forms when she was cleaning Fred and George’s room,’ said Ron quietly. ‘Great long price-lists for stuff they’ve invented. Joke stuff, you know. Fake wands and trick sweets, loads of stuff. It was brilliant, I never knew they’d been inventing all that …’
‘We’ve been hearing explosions out of their room for ages, but we never thought they were actually making things,’ said Ginny, ‘we thought they just liked the noise.’
‘Only, most of the stuff – well, all of it, really – was a bit dangerous,’ said Ron, ‘and, you know, they were planning to sell it at Hogwarts to make some money, and Mum went mad at them. Told them they weren’t allowed to make any more of it, and burnt all the order forms … she’s furious at them anyway. They didn’t get as many O.W.Ls as she expected.’
O.W.Ls were Ordinary Wizarding Levels, the examinations Hogwarts students took at the age of fifteen.
‘And then there was this big row,’ Ginny said, ‘because Mum wants them to go into the Ministry of Magic like Dad, and they told her all they want to do is open a joke-shop.’
Just then, a door on the second landing opened, and a face poked out wearing horn-rimmed glasses and a very annoyed expression.
‘Hi, Percy,’
