The Others: Gred and Forge

"How many did you bring?"



"We only need to get one..." Fred looked up, the expression on his face saying he'd heard something. His twin immediately fell silent.

After a moment, he hissed at George, " We only need one."

"But if we get two or three... one in her room, one in the hall..."

Fred eyed him.

"Better chances of hearing something," they spoke in unison, agreeing with a nod.

"I must say, my handsome friend, this was one of our better ideas," Fred whispered as he placed the tiny black beetle on the landing before they slunk down the stairs and towards the kitchen.

"My generous and talented sibling," George grinned. "One of our better ideas, indeed!"

"Now what?"

"Now, we wait," George shrugged, lifting the corner of a tea towel on the counter to investigate the strange lump beneath.

"My fine, upstanding brother..." he threw a happy glance at Fred. "Our mother has provided."


"Scones," George waggled his eyebrows, pulling back the cloth to reveal the piile of cream scones beneath.

"Mmmm... currants..." Fred said, his eyes glowing as he reached out for the biscuit. Taking a bite, he moaned with pleasure. "Like she read our minds..."

"Now that would be most unfortunate," George said, his voice still lowered. "Our mother would certainly never understand the need for our.. creative... investigation this evening."

Fred, a contemplative look on his face as he chewed on a second scone, nodded. "No, you're right. She would definitely take the more... direct... approach in this little foray into our sister's personal life."

"No finesse," George sighed, shaking his head.

"Makes you wonder how we became... us... doesn't it?"

"Hmm," George nodded again. "Creativity definitely came from Dad's side, mate."

Silence followed as the twins munched their way thorugh the plate of scones which Molly had left for any early risers to have with thteir monrning coffee. It was quite a few minutes later when George's eye zeroed in on a little black buzzing insect which came floating into the room.

"Rather an odd flight path, that," Fred commented.

"We'll have to look into that... could be a malfunction..."

"Hmm," Fred nodded.

"Oh, ho... brother mine..." George looked gleefully at Fred as he reached out and caught the bug. "It would appear that we have got the goods!"

"Bloke doesn't waste any time, does he?" Fred said dryly. "They've only been up there twenty minutes."

"Well, you know, when you're seventeen... what you lose in staying power, you more than make up for in... frequency."

Fred nodded wit a grin as George placed the tiny black bug on the counter between them. Taking out his wand, he tapped it once.

"Divulgeo," he said in a soft voice.

Suddenly, the need for quiet that had preceeded the capture of the bug seemed moot. The room suddenly rang with the high-pitched and very loud sound of Ginny Weasley's voice.

"I am warning you now, you two useless sacks of cow-muck, this had better be the LAST one of these things that I find! If you two EVER intend to father children, you will take these nasty little vermin and remove yourselves from this house this INSTANT! If I see EITHER ONE OF YOU before Easter, I will permanently remove your pink bits for you... with a rusty knife! Now, take your dirty little minds and your dirty little bugs, and get out of this house before I owl Mum and tell her about that weekend the two of you SAY you were with Charlie in Romania!"

"Damn!" Fred said, covering his stinging ears, and looking up at George, who was still flinching.

"Think she meant it?" George asked.

"Are you joking?" Fred said, a note of disbelief in his voice. Quickly, he grabbed the few bugs that had now returned to them, and stuffed them into the little velvet bag he used to carry them.

"Come on..." George urged him towards the public lounge and the floo there, nervously eyeing the stairs.

"Wait... one's missing..." Fred looked around, panicked.

"Do you really feel like going up there and looking for it?" George looked at him as though he'd lost his mind. The twins were normally fearless in the face of adversity when it came to their pranks, but they had learned the hard way that Ginny should never be crossed.


"And running into our sister while you do, after what she warned?" George continued. He couldn't believe that Fred would be willing to chance that, especially after what she'd done to them when she caught them last summer trying to charm her knickers to sing "God Save the Queen" every time a boy touched her.

Fred looked longingly up the stairs. He knew...

"You know she meant what she said about the rusty knife, mate," George hissed. "And you know our Ginny! Let's go!"

Fred sighed sadly, and followed. "It's so difficult being a visionary, George."

"Agreed, mate. But it's more difficult being dead."

With a handful of floo powder, they were gone. Ginny, after all, always meant what she said.