Authors' note: Yes, authors in the plural because there are in fact two of us. FaNgizzsoKool and 17ginny17. This story takes place in Harry's fourth year. Now read the story and enjoy!!

Disclaimer: We do not own any of the Harry Potter books or characters, since the last time I checked we are not J. K. Rowling

George PoV:

"Well maybe if we mix this with--" "Fred, George! Get down here this minute!"

Oh, great. Why does mom always have to call right when Fred and I are about to have a breakthrough?

"Boys, are you making those sweets again? How many times do I have to tell you…" There she goes again, pestering us about our personal business. We are so busy frantically hiding the sweets we were experimenting on under the bed, in our shoes and pockets, and anywhere else we can think of, that we almost do not hear what mom says next: "Hurry up! We're going to be late to get Harry!"

"Harry?!", Fred and I say in unison. "I had forgotten that was today…", says Fred. "Now we can finally see if our experiments work or not". I'm not sure if this is such a good idea, but I keep my mouth shut; most of our plans work out, even if we do get in trouble afterwards. "Yeah", I say. " Dudley is finally going to get what's coming to him".


We stuff the last of our sweets into our hats and the lining of our coats, and rush downstairs. Once we get down, mom starts in on us again. Why can't she ever pick on Percy or Ron for once? "I hope you two were studying, you know, you did so poorly on your OWLs. Only three OWLs each! You know, the grades you get now will affect your entire life…" Blah, blah, blah. Who really needs that stuff anyway? As soon as we can find the money to get started, we can open our joke shop and never have to worry about tests again. Mom seems to read my mind: "You two weren't working on that joke shop again, were you?" "No!", we both reply untruthfully.

I can see mom doesn't believe us. "Accio sweets! Accio! Accio!" Colored candies start flying into her hands from our pockets, hats, and shoes. Darn it.

2 hours later:

"Four Privet Drive!"

Fred and I drop our handfuls of green floo powder, and we are off to take Harry from his Aunt and Uncle's house. That place is like a prison, I mean seriously. They probably don't even let Harry mix toxic chemicals in his room. Not that our mom lets us either, but with six boys in the house it is a little easier to hide something small like that.

But anyway, back to the fireplace. Which is just the problem; there is no fireplace. All those stupid Dursleys have is a boarded-up hole in the wall with an electric fire in it. And we, meaning me, Fred, and Dad were all stuck inside. How inconsiderate. Especially knowing Dad's love for all things "elektic".

"Ow, Dad, that's my rib you're crushing", I hear from Fred's voice somewhere by my right ear. Oh yeah, did I mention that the fireplace is about the size of a small phone booth and pitch black? Dad takes out his wand (managing to poke both of us in the eyes in the process) and shouts "Reductio". The wall blocking the fireplace is destroyed, and we are out! Unfortunately, the Dursleys did not think of it the same way we did. The first thing I see as I climb out was a big, red face, shouting "(insert curse words of choice here)". A thin, sour looking lady was also staring at us, like she's never seen anyone appear in her fireplace and reduce her wall to dust before (which I guess she hasn't). And, last but not least, was a fat, stupid-looking boy who I can only imagine is Dudley. He is looking from Dad's wand to the wall and back again, clutching his bottom like he's afraid that it will go the same way as the wall. I mean really, this guy is going to be even more fun than I expected.

Everyone eventually comes to their senses and starts screaming at us, so I quietly leave the room, stopping only to cheer on whoever is planning to throw the next heavy object. I go to Harry's room to tell him that we are here, although the only way he would not already know that is if he went deaf and moved to New Zealand.

Conveniently, I know exactly where Harry's room is, having kidnapped (rescued) him from his room two years ago in a flying car. Sure enough, when I went into Harry's room he was packing up the last of his things and preparing to leave. "Hello, Harry! We're in case you didn't hear, we're taking you to the Quidditch World Cup whether those muggles like it or not. And I'm inclined to believe it's 'not'."

When we got back into the main room, Dad was trying to fix the wall, which was pretty hard since every time he picked up his wand all three Dursleys started screaming all over again. (By now Mr. Dursley's face had turned a nice shade of maroon) Dad walked over Fred, Harry, and me and handed us each a bit of floo powder. "I think you should be getting back now, I'm just going to stay a bit longer to sort this out".

"Sure, just a minute", Fred says, winking at me. He hands me a bag of sweets that he managed to hide from dear old mum, and I go over to Dudley, handing him a bright piece of candy. " Dudley, have a sweet", I say in my most fake American-imitating-an-English-person-voice. When he is about to grab it with his fat fingers, I snatch it back. "Oh, no! I forgot that you're on a diet. So sorry. Goodbye!" I walk away, leaving Dudley looking upset and bewildered. Phase one: complete.

I hand the bag back to Fred, which he accidentally-on-purpose drops, spilling colored pieces of candy all over the floor. We quickly gather up the candy, but not before we see Dudley greedily grab a large purple toffee. Of course, if he had read the wrapper, he would have seen the label "Ton-Tongue Toffee", but I guess one thing you can never trust Dudley to do is read something when he could eat it.

Harry, Fred, and I step into the fireplace and drop our handfuls of floo powder, but not before we see an immensely satisfying image of Dudley choking on a meter-long purple tongue. "You know", says Fred, "I do think he looks better that way".

I chuckle, thinking that we have just found out a wonderful new way to test our inventions. Little do I know just how much trouble these innocent little sweets will cause later on.

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