For the second time that morning, Bill had Fred and George on the tips of their toes. He loosened the clasp and allowed them a chance to see inside his bag. Resting against the unevenly knit B on his Weasley jumper was a mysterious Egyptian mask, long and wooden. Unlike the Portkey, it was lined with shallow runes and inlaid with gemstones of every color and size. Not a minute later, Bill closed the bag.

Charlie looked impressed and the twins were wearing greedy expressions as they continued putting some distance between themselves and the Burrow.

"Is that dangerous? It looks dangerous," Fred marveled.

"It is. Extremely," Bill replied. "Hasn't seen daylight in thousands of years."

"Why've they given it to you?" George asked.

Charlie expelled an uneasy laugh. "It's cursed. Isn't it?"

"Oh, yes. The goblins aren't entirely sure about the magic inside the stones, but the curses protecting the mask took over a year to dismantle."

"Inside the stones?" asked one of the twins.

"As in, natural magic?" asked the other.

"Could be. But I'd say a fair few are master potion amulets," Charlie assumed, reminding Fred and George that he was now a seventh year and had completed far more schooling. "Enormously rare, them."

"My thoughts exactly," Bill admitted. "Which means there's no telling what they hold."

"Right. So... don't go touching the mask... is what you're saying?" Fred surmised.

"Just about."

"If Mum knew you'd brought that into our home, she'd have you fricasseed on the spot," said Charlie quickly.

Bill nodded sluggishly. "I can do without that image, thanks."

The four of them kept walking through the field behind the Burrow until they came to a stop near the largest of the apple trees on their property. George was inspecting a soggy envelope in the grass when Fred found another. It wasn't long before Charlie spotted a letter in the branches, and Bill saw a fourth along the dirt road that led to town. The further they got from home, the more undelivered letters they found until Charlie took off in the direction of the woods that lined the orchard, most notably to an immense beech tree that was set back from the field.

From the number of owl feathers and discarded envelopes that crowded the base of the tree, it was obvious to them what had happened.

"Errol!" Charlie blurted, lifting a ruined letter that was addressed to him. The great gray owl sprang out of a hole in the wide and twisting trunk. Its head was pointing in the wrong direction. "Over here, look lively." Errol twisted in place and wobbled onto a lower limb of the enormous tree while Charlie shook the envelope. "Just couldn't be bothered to deliver the post? And here I was keeping you properly fed all summer. Let you sleep in my room on the rainy days. What do you have to say for yourself?"

Errol let out a pained squawk. Charlie's eyes drooped and he approached the family owl.

"I know. I know..." he said tenderly, stroking Errol's head. "I shouldn't have snapped. It's not your fault. You're well past your prime. Delivering the mail is a young man's game."

"Sorry, Charlie. Fred and I are to blame, actually," George confessed. "I gave Errol a letter to bring to one of our friends, but then... changed my mind after he took the envelope from me. Must've confused him."

"Which friend?" Charlie asked.

"Angelina Johnson. She's not really a friend. Well — she is — but not completely. It's hard to explain."

"No need," said Bill. He looked to Fred. "And what's your part in this?"

"Me? Oh, it was Dungbomb related. I was curious whether or not —" His voice dropped to a whisper. "Honestly, it's best we don't remind him."

Errol squawked again and seemed to nod.

For the better part of an hour, Bill, Charlie, Fred, and George worked their way through the pile of letters. Most of them were crushed and bent, many were completely unreadable. But there was a small package from Lee Jordan with a helpful vial of floo powder for them to use on their journey to his house, and a few that carried the Hogwarts seal. Anything addressed to the twins was written in duplicate. The first was a letter from Professor McGonagall.

Dear Mr. Weasley and Mr. Weasley,

Please note that the new school year will begin on September the first. The Hogwarts Express will depart at eleven o'clock from platform nine and three-quarters, King's Cross station.

A list of books for next year is enclosed, including The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2 by Miranda Goshawk. If you are unable to procure the necessary text for Charms, a supplementary course is available for you. Enchantments, which is taught by Professor Quirrell, does not require a book.

Yours sincerely,
Professor Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress

There was an addendum written hastily on the bottom of the letter. It read:

Please, do leave all contraband at home.

Attached to this was a list of required set books. Skimming through the list would have been a disheartening experience for the twins had the parchment not been gnawed to shreds. It was a dismal reminder that they were not able to afford new books, like most of the students their age. The next letter was from Professor Dumbledore and written in glittering purple ink.

To all incoming second years,

I hereby issue a proclamation with approval from the former Minister of Magic, Millicent Bagnold, to reinstate the Triwizard Tournament, a once-lauded competition between the three largest European schools of wizardry: Hogwarts, Durmstrang, and Beauxbatons. Preparations for the tournament will take roughly four years and shall commence during a critical stage of your education, between the fifth and seventh years.

If past events are any indication of the future, the mere existence of the tournament may leave you ill equipped for life in the wizarding world, as it will take place between your O.W.L.S. and N.E.W.T.S. Particularly if you are chosen to represent Hogwarts as champion.

Therefore, to ensure that you are adequately prepared until the games begin, we will be offering advanced courses of study to second year students one year early to offset the effects of the tournament.

Choose two from the following list and return this letter before the start of term. The courses are as follows:

Divination
Muggle Studies
Care of Magical Creatures
Study of Ancient Runes
Arithmancy

Good luck.
A.P.W.B. Dumbledore
Headmaster
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Charlie tore the letter from Fred's hand. Then Bill tore it from Charlie's hand.

"Are you joking!?" he exclaimed. "The last tournament was held at Hogwarts hundreds of years ago."

"Naturally, they bring it back after I leave."

"Don't worry, Charlie," said George. "You can watch us take home the winnings."

"I'm not so sure about that, lad. You were born in April. You'll be sixteen."

"So."

"So... it's too dangerous. You need to be of age."

"Seventeen?" Fred complained. "Not fair."

"I know all about that. Same age as Apparation," Charlie acknowledged.

Fred counted silently on his fingers. He gave up two fingers in. "Even if that's the case, I doubt something so insignificant as age will stop George and me from finding a way in."

"Exactly," George agreed.

Charlie bent down and ruffled their hair. "As the story goes, each school only chooses one Champion."

Bill was smiling. "The mystery of mysteries. Which of them is the better wizard?"

Fred and George squared up to one another, eyes aimed in artificial readiness. George narrowed the gap. Fred narrowed it further.

"There it is."

"We fight for it."

"To the death."

"If you don't pop off before then, sure."

"My money's on the good-looking one."

"You don't have any money."

"I will when I've won the tournament."

"Touche, Fred."

"Just one-che this time, George."