"What's that?" asked Ron in a low voice.

"A trinket of some sort..." said George, unable to stop himself from reaching out. Bill held him back.

"Ah-ah. No touching."

"Bill, have you and that goblin been plundering the crypts?" said Fred, in a mix of admiration and surprise.

"Well done," said George. "We're rich!"

Fred raised his eyebrows agreeably. "The first thing I'm buying — No... no that's the second thing. The very first thing..."

"Sadly, it's not valuable. Not in the way you think." Bill slid the paper closer to Mrs. Weasley, dragging the small statue along. "This is a Portkey. Got special permission so you can enter the camp. Emergencies only."

"Good thinking, son," Arthur reflected from the easy chair.

"The site will soon be closed off to protect a tomb we're opening. The goblins are expecting to uncover some prized artifacts. Lots of enchantments. Runes to decode, curses to break. The whole town is under guard. Strictly no Apparation — in or out."

"It's awfully considerate of you, dear. But —" Molly sidestepped to the nearest shelf, her eyes locked on the small statue. She took down a scorched oven mitt and slipped it on. "— you shouldn't have brought that into this house. Not with those two about."

Using the oven mitt, and watchful of the twins, Molly carefully took hold of the statue. She shuffled past her children and hastened to the drawer beside the sink, where she placed the Portkey inside, ever-so-gently.

"It's as if our mother doesn't trust us, George," said Fred.

"I doubt very much that's the case, Fred," said George.

Mrs. Weasley looked back at the twins with her most disillusioned expression, which typically involved ample amounts of squinting and lip curling. She tore off the mitt spiritedly, took up her wand, and placed a protection spell on the drawer. It slammed shut beside her. And then, for good measure, she aimed a second spell on a green wooden spoon that hung from a hook near the window.

"The green spoon?"

"Is that really necessary?"

"It's effective," said their mother briskly.

"What's a Portkey exactly?" Ron wondered.

"I'd tell you, but I don't want to spoil the surprise," said Bill. "Fred and George should be learning about them in Enchantments."

"Oh, to be a second year student again. My finest, I'd say," Percy ruminated with a sweeping smile. It withered just as quickly. "The year before they arrived. I swear, the castle was quieter."

For several seconds, the twins passed thoughts between them. They nodded imperceptibly, grinning their little grins.

"Percy?" Fred began. "Would you say that you have a good memory of the coursework from second year?"

"Certainly," he answered, looking almost insulted. "I've documented everything. Why do you ask?"

"George and I are rather eager for Transfiguration. Why — we've been talking about it well into the night."

"That, we have, Fred."

"We're curious to know what Professor McGonagall will ask us to transfigure at start of term."

"She always kicks off with something difficult, doesn't she? You wouldn't happen to recall by any chance, would you?"

"An interest in school? I must say..." stammered Percy. He was flabbergasted. "Admittedly... this comes as a shock."

"Just curious, is all."

"And you get such high marks."

Molly and Arthur passed a look of mild surprise to one another. This was a refreshing sight, to be sure.

"Well, it's supposed to be a secret. But as you can't do magic outside of school to practice, I see no harm in it," said Percy, his voice bobbing with glee. "From my experiences, and Charlie can confirm this, Professor McGonagall will ask you to turn a cockroach... into a dinner fork!"

"A dinner fork?"

"Jolly good."

The twins shared a smile, then took a small step toward the kitchen.

"Now. It takes some doing," Percy continued. "Cockroaches have an affinity for scampering off the desk. And it is quite confounding that we can turn a bug into a metal eating utensil, wouldn't you agree? My fondest remembrance of second year Transfiguration was comparing my fork with the different styles of those seated around me."

The twins carried on placating their brother while steadily creeping into the kitchen.

"Uh-huh."

"You don't say..."

"The real challenge lies in endeavoring to transform one metal into another. Gold is said to be impossible, but with enough effort, one could perhaps change iron to copper."

When Fred and George reached the sink, they turned their backs to him. Percy's voice hardened.

"What... what are you doing?"

The twins swiveled round, wearing identical expressions of chagrin.

"Let's just get it out of the way, shall we?" said George. "We're going to bring some forks along and see if we can convince the old bat that we managed it in record time."

"A hundred points to Mister Weasley and Mister Weasley... for being the very best students these hallowed halls have ever seen," Fred proclaimed in his best imitation of Professor McGonagall. "Or something along those lines."

There was a look of horrified disgust on Percy's face. "This is — unimaginable."

"Oh, come off it," said Fred, as George rummaged through the utensil drawer. "I'm sure you could have imagined us doing such a thing."

"Father!" Percy hollered. "You mustn't allow these infractions to go unrebuked."

"What's the problem, son? It's just a few house points to Gryffindor."

"Just a few..." He was panting now. "It's theft!"

"Of which you'll be the beneficiary," George pointed out.

Percy staggered back, eyes widening.

"And you told us," Fred noted. "Which means —"

"An accomplice..." said Percy, hands over his mouth. Suddenly comatose, he stumbled toward the living room and sunk to the rug where he laid back and stared at the ceiling. "I see it now. My professional life, marred by the controversies of my youth. Mother... please..."

Molly's eyes narrowed as she glared at their backs. "I don't care what they do at Hogwarts — as long as they stay — away — from that drawer!"

The green wooden spoon quietly left its hook to hover beside them. Fred and George had less than a second to notice before it smacked their hands.

"Hey!"

"Yeaowch!"

Mrs. Weasley nodded confidently to herself as a handful of forks dropped to the stone floor. "I have too much going on in my life to comb the ruddy deserts of Egypt for you lot," she said, waving her wand. The utensil drawer thumped shut and she lowered herself into the chair beside Ron, exhaustion lining her brow.

"Mum, you seem off," said Bill. "Has Auntie Muriel been owling you her couch pillows again?"

"Oh, I can manage her." Molly patted his hand lovingly. "It's that family just over the hill, if I'm to be honest. You know, the ones who came out with that dreadful Quibbler rag."

"The Lovegoods," said Charlie.

"Right. Well, Missus Lovegood was trying out some experimental magic... day before last. The whole thing went belly-up."

"How so?"

"Just as I'd said. Belly up," Molly replied in a brittle voice. "She's died, I'm afraid."

"Oh, that's awful," said Bill.

Arthur hummed. "Reminds me, I should drop by. Check on Xeno."

"Who?"

"Xenophilius Lovegood. Bizarre man. And that daughter of theirs, she's all alone with him now," said Molly. "Poor thing had to find out at sleep-away camp. At least Ginny is there to keep her company. Your sister's been upset enough this summer."

"Why is that?"

"Ginny knows that Ron is leaving for Hogwarts next year, so she's been... in a mood, let's say. I was keen to send her off to Miss Grantham's Camp for Enchanters... but now that she's heard of Missus Lovegood's passing, she hasn't stopped owling me about the endless crying. Poor little dear. No child should be without their mother."

"I was fond of camp as a boy," Mr. Weasley mused in the stillness of the moment. "Built self-reliance."

"Ron loved sleep-away camp." Mrs. Weasley bent toward her youngest son to kiss the top of his head, then pulled his ear toward the parchment. "Fred and George, however... They were kicked out in the first week after god knows what. That one witch's hair... It had gone completely white! Wouldn't even tell us what you'd done!" The twins smiled, looking impressed with themselves. "Camp was good for all of you. It's the best way to make friends before school."

"At least they had the Diggory boy," said Arthur encouragingly.

"How is Cedric?" asked Molly. "Don't see you boys spending much time together."

"We're watching the Quidditch World Cup with him tomorrow."

"After visiting with Lee Jordan."

Arthur lowered the newspaper. "Bill is here. Wouldn't you rather watch the match at home?"

"Dad. Watch?"

"You mean listen."

Most families had a Quidditch Pitch Tabletop Viewing Set connected to the Wizarding Wireless Network. The Weasley set was inexpensive and inoperative, with dials missing from the device and all sorts of wires snaking out. The Diggory set, on the other hand, was beneath a dome of glass. They had nearly all the necessary pieces, which moved around independently based on the actions of the match — the little balls soaring across the felted oval pitch, little players on little broomsticks circling the dome. Just about every piece was missing from the Weasley board. Arthur always had to fiddle with one of the miniature goal posts in order to get a good connection to the match commentary. Charlie boasted for weeks during the previous World Cup that he had convinced the board that a small potato was the Golden Snitch.

"One of Diggory's Chasers doesn't have a broomstick," said Fred. "But you can use your imagination."

"As long as the real player doesn't use his broom to hit the Quaffle round," said George. "I'll bet Lee has a cracking good table set. Come to think of it, we may want to consider a change of venue, Fred."

"Sorry, Cedric. Couldn't make it back in time!"

"Don't miss the match on our account!"

"And how, might I inquire, will you be getting to Lee Jordan's house?" Percy asked, already suspicious.

"Portkey," said Fred with a devilish smirk. The green spoon hovered closer and Fred covered his fingers. They were having a hard enough time working without being sore. "All right. Settle down."

"Mum said we can take the floo there by ourselves in the morning," said George.

"What!? Mum's granted you permission to travel along the floo network? Unaccompanied?!"

Molly exhaled noticeably. "Percy, give it a rest."