After breakfast, Fred and George said their goodbyes and rushed the hearth with Lee's vial of Sparkfire's Finest Floo Powder. The family joined the boys on the rug, their mother casting a foreboding look of mixed apprehension at them. As usual, it had no effect.

"Have fun," said Ron.

"Remember... Diagon Alley today," their dad mentioned as the twins stepped into the open fireplace. "I'll leave a note at the Apothecary if you can't find us."

"Ooh, the one that sells dragon dung by the handful?" Fred confirmed with enthusiasm.

"By the scoop, you mean," said Molly hesitantly. Charlie and Bill were shaking their heads. "Well, that's utterly barbaric. If you get there before us... don't... don't touch anything, do you hear?"

"Has anyone seen the spare cauldron?" Percy asked suddenly.

Molly noticed his afflicted expression. "What for? Your brothers are leaving. Can't it wait?"

"I think I'm going to be sick..."

"It's behind the washboard, Percy," Arthur replied.

"Sick? Over a handful of dragon dung?" George laughed. "You've held worse."

"I have not!"

Percy looked to Fred, who was nodding mischievously.

"Yes, you have," he said slowly.

Percy stormed up the stairs as Mrs. Weasley licked her fingers and raked Fred's hair until it looked intentionally untidy. Next, she aimed her wand at a string on George's sweater so it would loop tightly back into place. She gestured for George to step back onto the rug.

"One at a time, now..."

George stayed. "The note says we can travel together."

"Does, does it?!" she said blinking. Mr. Weasley gave her a sidelong glance. "What?" Her head trembled. "I didn't say anything."

Fred unfolded the note that had come with the floo powder while George searched for the small fire hidden between their shoes. He uncorked the vial and poured the glittery powder onto the flame. A whoosh of wind swirled around them, followed by a burst of rich and soothing orange light. George stood and clasped his hands at his waist.

"Jordan hill," Fred pronounced clearly. "Castle, East Wing."

"Oh! Castle, East Wing..."

"Molly!"

Before they could hear the commotion return, the orange light engulfed them with a roar and they sped away with amazing acceleration. The twins closed their eyes as they felt themselves coasting easily along the floo network. The usual sound of rushing voices swept past their ears as wind ruffled their red hair. And yet, it was a fantastically smooth trip. No bruises from hitting neighboring floos, no puffs of hot ash smacking their cheeks. It was a gentle transition from their home to another. They even slowed down to a stop as they reached their destination. No slamming or sliding, no lurching stomach. No spinning in place when they reached the proper grate. They just landed, as if onto a bed of feathers.

Fred and George wiped their eyes out of habit and found themselves in an immense fireplace.

"I'll never get tired of that," Fred snickered as he exited, expecting to shake soot from his hair.

George hung back uncertainly. He was taking in the size of the room before them. "Fred, I'm not entirely sure we've — come to the right place."

They were standing in a grand and opulent room, as large as the Great Hall at Hogwarts, with pristinely white walls that stretched to a coffered ceiling in hues of rich lavender. The long windows were made of enchanted stained glass, the figures playing delicately with the light. The floor looked as if it were cut from a single slab of white marble, without the faintest hint of a seam. Their eyes traced back to where they had come and noticed that the mantlepiece was also marble, carved with an ornate design of dragons and wizards surrounding a shield. Upon it, the Jordan family crest, which they recognized from the rounded lid of the silver trunk that had rested at the foot of their friend's four-poster bed at Hogwarts.

"Looks like we're in the right place, George."

"I had the same reaction," said a voice that joined with the echoes of their footsteps.

The twins looked to their left and right and found someone lounging on a settee at the opposite end of the room. It was Angelina Johnson. She was sitting comfortably, flipping through her comic book.

"Wasn't that just the most remarkable experience. Taking the floo, I mean," Angelina noted, as she set down her comic and approached the twins. "First time for me. I was worried I'd be burnt to a crisp, honestly. I'm sure it's commonplace to your family. But what a thrill. Hello, Fred."

"Hi, Ange. Good to see you."

"George."

"Hey."

"Didn't return my letter," she said rapidly, eyes boring into him. "Which is rude. Did you even read it?"

"Of course, I did."

"Just yesterday," Fred verified with a smirk. He had been looking forward to this moment, assuming they would still be awkward around one another after all that had taken place during first year.

Angelina groaned. "Have you changed at all, George Weasley?"

"According to the marks on our doorjamb, I've grown half an inch since last year," George answered. "So, yes."

"Although that's not quite reliable, is it? Our house tends to sag," said Fred. "You may be shorter, for all we know."

"Quite right."

"Well, it's nice to see you. Or one of you, at least." She faced Fred. "How have you been? I was hoping at least you would write."

Fred shook his hand. "The switch has rendered me inoperable. My fine motor skills are... not so fine, it seems."

"It'll pass," she assured him.

"Not to mention, Errol's been an awful mess this summer," said George.

"That poor owl. Your parents shouldn't be pressuring him to keep at it after all these years."

"And what do you suggest? Let him retire to Portugal?"

"Seven seconds with you and you're already doing my head in."

"All right. Don't start, you two. I haven't the energy to play referee again this year," Fred said impishly. He lowered his voice. "Actually, I do, in fact. I have all the time in the world. Carry on. Try to avoid dismembering one another. At least, not straightaway."

They were interrupted by the sound of tiny footsteps scurrying towards them, followed by a high-pitched voice.

"Welcome and good day. Master Lee requests that you join him in the colonnade," it spoke in a dignified and lofty tone.

Fred, George, and Angelina tracked the echo of the small voice until they found him standing behind a long sofa. It was a house-elf — but not any house-elf. This one was dressed in fine, embellished robes of deep purple, with silver slippers and a gold necklace. His long ears were pinned back. He bowed to them courteously.

"Hello," Angelina said with uncertainty, as the three of them bowed in return. "I'm Angelina Johnson. This is Fred and George Weasley."

The house-elf straightened. He nodded, his over-sized green eyes smiling at them. "We have been expecting you. You may address me as Rupert. I am a Wizard's Gentleman for the noble House of Jordan."

For once, Fred was at a loss for words. George was not.

"Sorry, but — shouldn't you be a Wizard's... Gentle-elf?"

"I prefer to be regarded as such, if you would oblige me," Rupert replied, sounding vastly different from any house-elf they had encountered at Hogwarts. "I am a valet and may attend to your needs whilst you are on the grounds. Whatever you request."

"Whatever we request?" Fred inquired.

Rupert blinked and grinned pleasantly. "Within reason."