It was early February of 1994. Inside the castle of Hogwarts, students ambled about with their usual activities. A cheery mood hung in the air, for it was finally the weekend. The teachers had piled on mountains of homework during the past week. Most students had decided to take a well-earned break from studying. Some students had procrastinated with their homework and were studying hard in the library. The students in Gryffindor Tower were celebrating the beginning of the weekend in the common room, relaxing and gossiping. The dormitories seemed to be deserted at first glance, but if anyone bothered to check them, they would find two people in the fifth year boys’ dormitory.

One of the boys was pacing. The other was slumped on his bed with his head in his hands. Something was very obviously wrong. That ‘something’ was this: For the first time ever, Fred and George Weasley were stuck.

George turned to Fred with frustration in his eyes. “We’re going to be sixteen in April. We are too young to be stuck.� He spat the last word out as if it were poison.

Fred lifted his head and nodded. He had been a bit paler than usual over the course of the past few days. “I know! Being stuck, the way we are, is for thick blokes like—�

“Not us!� George interrupted, near tears. “We’ve never, ever been stuck before! Why can’t we think of anything? We have always—�

“Had an idea, some sort of idea!� Fred put his head in his hands. “What do we do, now that we have, well—� He looked up and swallowed, wincing.

“Pranker’s block?�

The Weasley twins had been in this state for several miserable weeks, worrying about the premature failure of their joke shop. The dream they had shared since they were five was in danger. Starting a joke shop would be impossible if neither of them could come up with new pranks! Sure, they had some tricks that were hysterical, but they were getting old.

What they really wanted was to create a prank item.

That was another thing that ate at them. They had promised themselves that they would be done with their first practical joke item by the end of their fifth year. It was in writing and everything! There wasn’t much time left.

George stared at his hands at the idea of pranker’s block. “I have no idea.� He paused, frowning, and said, “Maybe we can come up with an idea if we distract ourselves. Take a break or something, I guess… We could… no—no way… Ooh! Maybe we could try something like… I don’t think so—bad idea… Why don’t we… maybe... That could work…�

Fred’s eyes widened and his skin paled even more, making the many freckles already visible stand out even more. His voice was somber, as he said, “No. Never. I thought you, my brother, would never even consider that, even if we can’t come up with a new prank.�

“This is a school, you know,� George said, trying to make his point clear while tapping his fingers on the small, wooden table next to his bed. “If we do it, maybe the teachers will let up on us. I mean, they’ll be so surprised! It could be—er— fun to watch.�

“Who are you, and what have you done to George? I’m warning you, I have a black belt in, er… Ju… ki… sano!�

George chuckled. “Jukisano? Come on. Where did you even learn about martial arts?� He paused, but quickly shook his head. “I don’t want to know. Anyway, just because I can’t think of a prank and suggested... that... doesn’t mean it isn’t me. I don’t know, I guess I’m just coming down with something… But—�

“I will not do my homework!� Fred hissed at him, disgusted and insulted. How could his brother suggest such despicable behavior?

“Okay, fine, it was just a suggestion. We won’t do Snape’s essay, then—you know, that three-foot one that counts for a big portion of our grade, and maybe it would be nice to not fail everything this year, and maybe Mum would shout at us a bit less—not that I care, I just want her happy— and maybe I would actually learn something about grammar and would not speak in such horrible stringy run-on sentences like this one.�

George was breathing like mad at this point, while Fred simply glared, exasperated. “Anyway,� George said, “See my point? What are we supposed to—�

“Do?�

The two brothers stared at each other, wondering where their ethics had gone and what they would be eating for dinner in the Great Hall that night.

"Fine."

“Where did you put my quill?� they asked each other, coincidentally at the same time. It was going to be a long and very painful afternoon.

---

“‘Elixir of Eccentricity contains powdered bicorn horn and crocodile hearts, both of which have properties that, when drinken, forces the potion-taker to go temporarily unhinged, sometimes to a level of great extreme’,� George read aloud from his essay. The twins were struggling to complete the three-foot compositions in a quiet corner of the library. Each had only about eight inches done. “Does that sound right, Fred?� George asked, itching his nose.

“Yes, except for the fact that ‘drinken’ isn’t a word,� Fred remarked dryly. “Try ‘drank’. What else do you have?�

“’The drinker ends up doing quite odd things they would never do in a normal state,� George continued. “They can get very confused about simple matters that make them rather disturbing company. They may do even crazier acts when dosage is not precisely correct’.�

Fred sighed. “That’s better than mine. I think I wrote the exact same sentence three times in a row… I don’t believe we can sink any lower. What’s so great about doing homework?�

George got a thoughtful look on his face. “I honestly don’t know… I don’t understand the point of it.� He looked back down at his essay, squirming in his hard, wooden chair. Homework was really different from everything he had experienced. It was hard, boring, and a waste of extremely valuable time. Plus, what was with this Elixir of Eccentricity? How could people just go mad? Temporarily?

He proceeded to rifle through the pages of An Encyclopedia of Potions, and found a short passage on the Elixir of Eccentricity. George read aloud:

“’Elixir of Eccentricity- The drinker of this potion experiences a severe loss of judgment, reasoning, and general sanity. The witch or wizard in question may not remember their actions after the potion has worn off. This potion was originally used to embarrass the enemy of the brewer, with quite humourous results.’�

George sighed and muttered something sarcastic about how very useful that was. He went back to work for a few moments; but his twin just sat with his quill raised at an angle, an odd, wild little smile on his face. With the air of an evil mastermind having yet another brilliant idea for universal domination (or simply domination of the world), Fred whispered, “Humourous results?�

George kept writing, but after he heard what Fred had said, he froze. His eyes lit up, and a smile spread across his face. “Say… You don’t think…?� he trailed off, excited.

Fred grinned, spluttering enthusiastically. “A prank… A prank… er… we could plant a bit of Elixir of Eccentricity—�

“—In some food?� George concluded for him, growing more and more excited by the minute.

“That’s exactly what I am thinking. Éclairs, probably, no one can resist éclairs…we’ll have to get some supplies, probably ask the house-elves, or buy a kit, or something…Figure out a good dosage, too…Make sure no one can taste the potion… Slow the effects, so no one can tell that they were the cause.�

Fred grinned, grabbed George’s head, and kissed him, smack on the forehead.

“What was that for?� George yelled, shoving Fred off roughly onto the floor and wiping his face with the sleeve of his robe.

Fred smiled evilly, pulling himself up with a leg of the table. “We no longer have pranker’s block, mate!� He started dancing a conga in celebration. George joined in, adding celebratory shimmies.

Madam Pince’s shriek echoed off the bookshelves: “What are you doing? Dancing? This is a library! Get out! GET OUT!�

---

It was Monday. The Gryffindor and Hufflepuff fifth years had Potions class as their first period, as always. Something was different this time, though. A new mood lingered in the air.

“Pass in your essays,� Snape snarled. He strode up the dungeon, his black robes billowing around, as normal. As he approached the first table, the dungeon’s temperature seemed to drop a few degrees, as if the longer he continued living, the colder he could become.

“I’ll be grading them like your O.W.L.s will be graded. Based on your performance of previous essays, most of you should not expect to get higher than a P. This is disappointing, but not surprising the least. You brainless numbskulls need to work harder if you want to be in my N.E.W.T. level classes. I will be perfectly happy if you don’t, however, because I look forward to not be teaching you in half a year’s time.�

Snape continued on droning. “Weasley, Weasley, five points from Gryffindor as usual. Don’t forget detention on Thursday…Today we will be brewing the—yes, Weasleys, why are your hands up?�

It was George who answered, with a smile hiding behind his eyes, “Why did you take five points from us?�

“Don’t answer a question with a question, Weasley. I always take five points from you when you do not complete your homework.�

Fred replied innocently, “We did our homework.�

Snape sneered. “Amusing. I cannot believe you, seeing as your record shows you haven’t ever done it once before.�

Fred started, “Look through—“

His brother continued for him, “—the pile—“

“—they should—“

“—be in there!� George finished, watching Snape’s eyes come to rest on him after flickering back and forth between the twins.

Snape sneered again. “In the five years you have taken my classes, you have not ever done your homework. I stopped trying to make you do your homework after the September of your first year.� As he went on, his voice got tighter and tighter. “Five more points from Gryffindor, stop this nonsense, and let me begin my lesson.�

George raised his hand once more. “Sir, could you please just look through the pile before you begin? If it’s not there, go ahead and give us detentions for a month.�

“Weasley. Weasley. I have never taken pleasure in your tales. It seems I am forced to check who has done their homework and who hasn’t. If the essays are,� he sneered, “mysteriously not there, I assure you that Gryffindor will lose every point they have earned in the past two weeks.�

Snape strode to his desk and shuffled impatiently through the pile. Halfway through, he paled, and held up two pieces of parchment to see if he had misread them. He opened his mouth slightly as if he was about to speak, but closed it again, as if he had changed his mind. His face was slowly turning red.

The class watched, holding their breath to see what the professor would do. The twins were trying to hold in their laughter—unsuccessfully. Twenty seconds had passed, and Snape was still staring at the essays. His face was turning purple now.

Suddenly, his head jerked up and he began the lesson as if nothing had happened. However, his face remained violet for almost the rest of class. It was quite hilarious to see Snape, impatient and mean, with a face that looked like a plum.

As they were leaving the classroom, Fred turned to George. “That was great. Want to start on the éclairs after lunch?�

“Why not, my dear brother, why not?� George had some good ideas—and a lot of them. If everything worked according to plan, they would be able to pull of the prank of the year—and quite possibly, the decade. It would be even funnier than Snape and his indigo face.

---

“’…Dry ingredients in the red bowl, liquid in the blue, but pay attention to the recipe because the dry and wet ingredients do vary. Stick to the instructions no matter what. The last thing you need is baking éclairs that resemble Quaffles.’� Lee finished reading from the WizaRecipe he had borrowed from his mum, and frowned. They were in their dormitory, after having cleared out the other two boys by simply telling them to the library to fetch the book Nonbeing—the Vanishing Spell, saying McGonagall assigned them to read it by next class. (Of course, Nonbeing—the Vanishing Spell didn’t really exist, but so be it.)

“Geez, it’s like they know we’re going to screw it up. It will be easy, though, you know? This kit gives us the bowls and pre-measured ingredients and everything! All we do is mix it all up, add our potion, put it all in a cauldron, and perform an incantation!�

Fred agreed. He wasn’t sure why witches like his mother were so uptight when it comes to their baking. Or cooking. Or whichever. It was simple! WizaRecipe, the name of the kit, had a slogan that claimed a ‘no-fail guarantee for those with an ounce of common sense.’

“Okay. I’ll do the dry ingredients, Lee will do the liquid, and George, you can keep brewing the potion. This will be simple. They’re just éclairs.�

-A while later-

“What did you do? The recipe says that most of the sugar goes in with the wet ingredients!� George, done with the potion, was criticizing the other two.

Fred argued, saying, “Lee said I should take all of the dry ingredients and put it into the bowl!�

George flicked him between the eyes with some flour, creating a white, dusty mask on Fred’s face.

“The recipe says to add the sugar with the rest of the wet ingredients and add only a quarter cup to the wet ingredients! No, no, no, now we have to separate the sugar and the other dry ingredients!� He paused, drawing breath. “Luckily, you just put it in, so all the sugar is on the top of the rest! Spoon it off and put it in with the wet ingredients. Do not go too deep, or you’ll get the other dry stuff in the wet ingredients, too.�

George pulled the spoon from his brother with a murderous look on his face. He grabbed the bowl, too, and moved it out of Fred’s reach. With deep concentration, he began to remove the sugar, but not the flour. The light from the window made the white, crystalline concoction shine. Spooning a little at a time, George moved with the poise of an expert. He was muttering about beating something with a whisk.

Lee stared at George as if he had pulled a knife from thin air and plunged it into his brother’s stomach, or perhaps his brain. Poor Lee was not expecting this news. Eyes wide, he said, “Since when do you like to bake?�

George’s ears turned red, and he muttered, “I don’t like baking, I’m just not being stupid. I have ‘an ounce of common sense.’�

Fred cleared his throat and quietly said, “Right... And all those times you helped Mum in the kitchen, that was just learning how not to be stupid?�

Little did they know how very stupid they would feel…

---

George was concentrating harder than he ever had at Hogwarts. “Hmm… Fred, how do we make these éclairs look—�

“More appetizing? As in, not a blue that is bluer than to the shade of Snape’s face the day we turned in our homework for the first time in Potions?� Fred finished.

“That was more of a purple,� George stated simply. “Anyway, I’d prefer they were more of a golden brown, éclair-ish, pastry-ish colour.�

“Me too, if I was going to eat one,� Lee said fairly.

Fred re-examined the table of ingredients, which, for some reason, included a bottle full of a thick, purplish-blue paste the very same shade of Snape’s face. He made a mental note to either avoid it, or find out what it was and then avoid it. “Well, there’s always this Muggle food colouring the elves gave us. But does it come—�

“In a golden brown colour?� George finished Fred’s thought, doubting that wizards usually dyed pastries to make them look normal.

Lee frowned. “There’s only yellow, red, blue and green here. I think we have to mix it ourselves.�

All three boys gulped, sensing a challenge. A challenge that could very possibly kill them.

-Later-

Fred, George and Lee were examining yet another food colouring mix. “It’s too dark! More yellow.� George announced crossly.

“Yeah, but it will end up lighter when you add it to the blue,� Fred insisted.

“That’s what we tried last time,� George argued back.

The twins had been at this for almost ten minutes, and Lee was about to dump the food colouring mixtures on their heads. Again. They were still in their dormitory, which had started to smell like pastry dough, powdered bicorn horn, and a hint of other various ingredients for the potion and the éclairs. A few stains were visible around the room, all different shades of brown. There was flour dust and dirty mixing spoons scattered about.

Fred argued back, while stirring the food colouring together. “It was better than bright blue!�

“Why don’t we just make them chocolate éclairs?� George gave up, exasperated and exhausted.

“I already told you, the recipe doesn’t taste like chocolate! They are vanilla. I thought you, the baker, would also have a sense of taste.� They had eaten many of the éclairs that had been screwed up in the baking process, and now had gained a small amount of weight each. Luckily, they had perfected the baking and brewing long ago. Their only problem was the bluish colour.

“Hey! I have an idea! What happens if we just add water? The brown will be lighter, so it should come out looking normal,� Lee cut in, drained from the twin’s arguing. He squirted a dash of esphorous root juice into the potion he was brewing.

The twins looked at Lee, eyes wide, as if he were a genius.

“Well—� Fred started slowly.

“It could work—� George continued.

“I guess… I don’t know—�

“It’s worth a try.�

“What’s the worst that could happen?� Lee said.

Famous last words, Fred couldn’t help thinking. It was a good idea, but something about it didn’t seem right…

---

George pulled the pastries from out of the cauldron, excited and anxious at the same time. This was it.

“Wow.�

Silence filled the dormitory. The éclairs sat on a night table, oozing with what looked a bit like poison.

“They’re… They’re…� Fred couldn’t speak.

George finally choked one syllable: “Green.�

�Green.� Lee stared, amazed that it didn’t work. He had actually thought that he had a good theory, even though he just blurted it out to stop the twins from killing each other. It was the disappointment one felt when they realized they weren’t as smart as they had thought.

The éclairs were an unpleasant shade of sea green, or an extremely dark teal. Fred wasn’t eloquent enough to think about these words, of course. “Brownish-darkish-bluish-green,� he pointed out. He was right— water wasn’t the real answer…

“Why didn’t it work?� George wondered.

Fred answered him. “Well, the water probably diluted the food colouring, so it took away the food colouring’s strength and the blue from the potion shone through, making it green. Something to that effect, I guess.�

Lee and George glared at him. “Why didn’t you think of that earlier?� Lee growled, clamping his hands onto a table to reduce the temptation of harming him.

“I didn’t know it would turn green.� Fred saw the looks on their faces and took off, running out of the dorm.

---

After almost two weeks of mixing, adding, squirting, arguing, stirring, testing, and more arguing, the three finally gave up on the food colouring. There was no possible way to use food colouring to make an actual éclair colour.

As they were walking dejectedly to Transfiguration, the three passed the Charms classroom, where the Slytherin and Ravenclaw third years were learning Colour Change spells.

Professor Flitwick was explaining how the charms worked. “…Opposite colours, such as blue and orange. So if you take a bright blue feather and cast the charm, it becomes orange. You will also be learning a more advanced version of this spell in which you can alter the shade of your colour. For example, I could turn this orange feather a golden brown hue, almost like a vanilla pastry. The Colour Change spell can be done on large groups of objects, if necessary.�

Fred had halted at the word ‘colours.’ After Flitwick was done, the three boys simultaneously swore.

“We are idiots,� George announced, sad and excited at the same time. “Complete idiots.�

Lee hit his head repeatedly against a wall. “Normally, I would say you should speak for yourself… But I have to agree with you on that one, mate.�

---

Lee’s face shone with excitement. “This is it, boys. The moment that we have been waiting for is here. Fred, would you do the honours?�

Fred smiled wickedly as he spoke. “I’d love to.�

He removed the perfectly golden-brown éclairs from Lee’s cauldron. “It’s time to test them,� Fred announced, as George plunked them proudly onto the table. “We need to observe.�

Thus, each of the fifteen-year-olds spent the next few weeks taking turns to test the éclairs. You couldn’t really taste the potion at all, Fred and Lee swore, but George thought they tasted funny.

A few embarrassing incidents resulted, including one where Fred began to sing a song in the Great Hall about steak-and-kidney pie and his father’s screwdrivers.

In another one, Lee ran around the common room waving a flag that said, “Jinx Me!� The potion didn’t wear off for more than three and a half hours, during which Lee was jinxed more times than he could count. By the time his real brain had returned, he was covered in tentacles, feathers, warts, fuzz, water, and several mysterious, different-coloured substances. At the same time, he was shaking, dyed orange all the way to his skin, sneezing because of the feathers, and laughing, half-angry, half-amused.

The three were satisfied that it worked for them, but decided to do a little test to see what it was like when the unlucky victim had no idea they were about to go insane. In other words, they chose to have a little fun…

---

Neville was studying for his Charms exam. It was a big one, too. Luckily, the common room was quiet. A lot of people were studying, reading, or nowhere to be found. The only noise came from a group of first-years playing Gobstones, which could easily be tuned out.

After fifteen minutes or so filled with the theory of the spell that they had been working on all week, Neville heard a crash from the boy’s dormitories. Then—

“Lee! Be careful!� and a “Sorry, I tripped on a bug!� and an argument about whose nose was bigger, Fred’s or George’s.

“Hey, Neville!� Lee shouted from across the common room when all three emerged. Their faces looked a bit too innocent and casual, but Neville waved away this fact as soon as Lee said, “Fred and George’s mum sent them some éclairs, want one?�

“Sure!�

Neville got up and bit a pastry from the plate Fred was offering, on which a pile of éclairs was piled sloppily. The éclairs were actually quite delicate and delicious.

“Mmm… strawberry.�

Fred glanced at George and Lee, a funny expression on his face. “These aren’t strawberry éclairs, though!�

“They aren’t? Oh, they just taste like strawberry to me.� He bit it again. “Now it tastes like Spellotape.�

Lee asked nervously, “Neville, are you feeling a bit—odd?�

“No.� He paused. “Yes.� He paused again. “Maybe. Er, what? Nox.� He pointed his already unlit wand at a first-year, who looked rather confused. “Hen. Dog. Aunt Katherine.� About ten minutes of entertaining observations later, he began dazedly hopping up and down on one foot.

---

“Fred? Lee? Do you realize we never gave the éclairs a name?� George asked them one evening in their dormitory, checking items from a clipboard.

Lee cocked his head. He was folding his clothes and trying to find a stray sock. “Yeah, I was wondering about that… We should name them… Erm... ‘Crazy Cookies’?�

Fred, who was currently doing absolutely nothing, smacked his arm. “That’s a horrible name. How about… ‘Batty Biscuits’?�

George smacked Fred’s arm with the clipboard, which somehow pinched him and made him wince.

“’Senseless Sweets’?� Lee offered. He bent down and pulled a Gryffindor scarf that was sticking out from under his bed.

They continued brainstorming for at a long time. Lee continued the search for his sock. George suggested ‘Deranging Delicacies,’ which was probably the best the three could come up with.

Fred nodded. “Well, its got good potential.�

Lee grinned, checking between his four-poster and the wall. “I like it.�

“Okay, erm, should we vote on it, then? All in favor say… random!�

“Random,� Fred said after a beat.

“Random,� Lee repeated, mostly because George’s names always seemed better than his and Fred’s. Plus, ‘deranging’ was a cool word… Anyway, where was that sock?

“Random,� said George, pleased his idea was the only decent thing they could come up with. Lee found his sock underneath Fred’s bed, attached to an old candy box from Honeyduke’s.

“FISH!� a scream came up from the common room.

Fred raised an eyebrow, smiling. “That was random…�

---

It was the night. The night. No, not that night, that night. It was the night that the three future founders of Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes unleashed their new product, after almost two months of hard (and sugary) work:

The—Deranging—Delicacies.

The plan was to leave more than enough pastries for everyone in the common room to have one, leaving a sign that said ‘Take One Please’. There was enough in case some people took two. Lee and George snuck down during dinner and left the trays in carefully planned spots around the common room for everyone to see.

The evening started out calmly enough. Most people thought that the house-elves had left the éclairs as a gift to the Gryffindors, for reasons unknown. About thirty minutes after the end of dinner, most of them were gone. The chaos began.

It was worse than the three pranksters had expected. Much, much worse. Some people started to cry or yell. Other people were sneezing, standing on their heads, winking, or picking their noses. Several people began to talk incessantly, even if no one was listening. Quite a few were calling for their mummies. A fair amount were poking each other or kicking a hard object with no recognition of pain. There were a few people who did more than one of the previously mentioned actions. Two or three were doing all of them.

Ron stood in front of the wall, staring as if it were a shocking discovery. “Grapes,� he muttered slowly. “Yes. No. Yes. No. Yes. No.� He shook his head every time he said ‘yes’, and nodded with each ‘no’.

A girl named Shayla was drawing skulls on other people’s robes with her wand and whispering nonsense loudly, such as: “Hugh! Seventeen pitchforks! Koalas are cute! Why is water wet?�

A first year, Jay Something-Or-Other, was dancing and throwing rhinestones into the air. Ginny was singing a song about the Dursleys’ house and Harry’s cousin, while holding imaginary Muggle headphones to her ears. Cormac McLaggen was biting the bricks around the fireplace and then swearing heavily at them when they didn’t ‘crunch’. A fourth year walked past with a suction cup on her forehead, shouting, “This is what they’re really for!�

One seventh year was casting Accio and Depulso repeatedly on a pillow, summoning and banishing it back and forth across the room, with no care that it whacked several dangerously mental adolescents on its way.

“Impervius Avocado,� screeched a girl standing on one of the armchairs. Her bizarre idea of an avocado that can stay perfectly dry fascinated a second-year boy, to the point of him following her around as she showed the rug and the fireplace.

At one point, Professor McGonagall heard the commotion and went up to Gryffindor Tower to try to calm the madness. Luckily, Lee saw her immediately and stuffed a Delicacy into her mouth. She stood, dazed, for a few minutes, but happily waltzed out of the room Transfiguring several objects into toads or hats once the potion had kicked in.

Someone decided it was the time to cook socks in a Muggle toaster they had brought with them (reasons unknown).The room ended up smelling like burnt feet. About four or five people passed out at the nasty aroma. Then Hermione decided to bite the fingers of the people who were passed out, which woke them up. The éclairs hadn’t worn off yet, though, so they started biting Hermione’s fingers. When Hermione escaped, she woke Ron out of his ‘grapes’ reverie to proclaim how much she adored him.

A third year girl was complaining that the common room sounded too ‘dizzily’ and ‘pink’. Two seventh years were picking each other’s noses. A boy claimed to be selling accidents. Someone was talking to a sock about how cool elephants were.

A small group of second years were having an argument about where they were. Half insisted they were underwater; the others were positive they were at a Muggle rock concert, and kept waving imaginary lighters.

Percy was talking to scissors that he believed were his brother, Bill. He stabbed himself and cried out, “Ouch, Bill, what’s wrong with your nose?�

A few teenagers who hadn’t eaten any of the pastries were running for their lives. Some sensible ones headed straight up to their dormitories. One was rocking back and forth, holding his knees, and crying, “They’re going mad! I’m going mad! We’re all going mad!�

---

Fred, George, and Lee stared at the empty common room. It was littered with the most random assortment of objects: used tissues, a platter of cheesecake cups, sheet music to a holiday carol, a wand, a broken wizard’s calculator that looked suspiciously like Fred’s, several pairs of shoes tied together, quite a few unconscious students, a pen, eleven quills, a Muggle cell phone, a picture of someone’s really old relative, bright pink liquid in a tiny, crystalline bottle, a cotton ball, a strange object that looked like someone sat on it, a fuzzy chartreuse cube, five orange socks, an ice cream cake with chocolate icing, sixty-one rolls of toilet paper, Colin Creevey’s camera, a memo pad, a bottle of multihued ink, a cardboard figure of some unknown but suspiciously familiar person, eleven snowmen ornaments, and even more random stuff that only extremely mental people would bring into the common room.

Lee was the first to speak. He looked as if he had been through a war. “All of that food colouring, the éclairs, the potion, the planning, the testing, Neville, it all comes down to this. Oh—� At this point, Lee began to swear so badly that both twins looked scandalized.

“If we plan to sell these,� Lee continued on, “we have to attach a warning label not to feed these to large groups of people. Ever. Or, could we at least not screw up the dosage? Are you sure you put in the Elixir of Eccentricity in there, not the Chaotic Concoction? I don’t think we should sell these at all. I mean, do you want to know what happened to me tonight? I expect you don’t, but I’m going to tell you anyway!

“This random kid pointed at me and said basket about 2000 times, then tried to poke my eye out, almost succeeding, too. That first year, Rowilda Vaim or whatever, poured a potion on my toes, so now I can’t feel them and I’m not even sure if they’re still there! A sixth year stared at me so hard her eyes went crossed, and then she started jumping up and down on my wand arm! Some kid peed on my robes!� Lee paused, for either dramatic effect or breath (or both).

“The only thing that wasn’t horrible was when that really cute fifth-year, Willa Marco came up to me and starting kissing me. But, of course, we were interrupted almost immediately because Percy smashed a cake in my face, and she was knocked unconscious by the time I could see again!�

Lee was finally done ranting. George sighed and glared at Lee. His eyes were red and he looked rather sticky. “Lucky! Remind me that I hate you sometime, won’t you? Some seventh year tried to eat me, then a first year drooled on my knees, and then Harry attacked me with a toothpick and a piece of pie. Somebody kept saying I was invisible ink and that I needed to be gashed, so she tried that. I almost escaped, but an army of first-years assaulted me with raw meat,� he grimaced, “and celery sticks! Oh, and some first year attempted to chew my hair off right off the top of my head!�

He turned to Fred, who was still staring at the damaged common room. “Your turn!�

Fred sighed, just like George had before he began his rage. “Well,� he said, “someone tried to pull off my nose. When than didn’t work, she stuck my head in a bucket of ice water. Joseph Perks broke my wizard’s calculator, that one underneath the silverware over there. Angelina force-fed me about seven bananas. A second year—I swear, she must have had three éclairs—tried to steal my boxers, and Dean Thomas drooled all over them during the short time they were taken off.�

The boys were silent. After a long moment, Lee said, “You put them back on?�

All three started laughing, and could not stop once they had begun.

It wasn’t really funny. The three had nearly destroyed the common room, almost injured the all Gryffindors, and caused a prank to backfire so badly that they would possibly need medical—or mental—help.

When they could breathe again, Fred realized something.

“So... how much of that are they going to remember tomorrow?�