At night,
Seventh floor of the castle was quiet, with very few rooms. Its walls were lined with paintings, and Lucifer walked past each one carefully, as they moved: a tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy being clubbed by a group of trolls caught his eyes.
It was another one of night strolls.
Apparently, Barnabas had tried to teach them ballet. They were not interested. The trolls chased him with clubs, and the scene was both absurd and entertaining.
As he stared at it, Barnabas gradually grew more and more bruised. He kept shouting his well-meaning explanations, completely ignoring the futility of it all.
"What a fool...."
xxxxxx
Lucifer was diligently applying himself in every class to earn house points. Not too much, of course-'just enough.'
He made sure to demonstrate a level of talent that was slightly ahead of the lessons, but not so far that he looked unnatural. The key to earning points was to create the perfect blend of 'talent' and 'effort,' so professors would see him as a hard--working student with promising ability.
If he showed off too much too fast, sure, the professors might be amazed at first but that amazement would fade as they became accustomed to it. No more shock.
No more bonus points. Sustained, strategic progress---that was the real long game.
And even with this measured approach, Lucifer's name was beginning to circulate among the first-years and faculty alike.
Everyone knew now: Gryffindor' had two new students---talented, dedicated, and completely different from the usual crop of giggling, clueless first-years.
Naturally, the Hogwarts professors loved this. For the most part, they had a decent sense of professionalism (Snape and Quirrell being notable exceptions). No one seemed to hold grudges against giving points to the house other than their own.
Thanks to that, Gryffindor's house point operation was running smoothly, in catching up with the scoreboard.
Every class earned him and Hermione a few points, between that and bonus points from impressive work, scores were climbing steadily.
The bushy haired girl even cheered sweet things into his ears, for getting such a high score, making their way for this year's House cup, breaking Slytherins's long streak of six years in a row.
But with praise came jealousy.
It wasn't just Slytherin's-who naturally resented a strong Gryffindor' rival, no rivals.
Whispers of dissatisfaction spread like poison. How could Muggle-borns someone with no family background---be outperforming them? Overshadowing pure-bloods?
Lucifer noticed their eyes. The hostility. The 'seething' discontent.
But he was waiting. Waiting for an opportunity, a moment when he could make a statement.
Just one public thrashing, and the message would be clear. Maybe two. Maybe three, if needed.
A couple of well-executed beatdowns, and these pampered brats, who'd never tasted real fear or danger would quickly learn where they stood.
But another announcement stirred the entire first-year population into a frenzy: starting 'Thursday', Flying Lessons would begin.
Whether Muggle-born or wizard-raised, no child could resist the allure of flight.
Lucifer was no exception. Of course, his dreams weren't of straddling some scratchy broomstick and puttering around the air. He had something real-like, "angel wings" which didn't yet manifest themselves. Using them gliding flight, sheer magical power to soar.
But for now, he'd play along with being curious to try other means.
Gryffindor and Slytherin would be learning together.
For the wizard-born students, this was their moment. Their chance to shine. Every conversation, no matter the topic, always circled back to flying.
Malfoy was a textbook example loudly complaining about unfairness of first-years not being allowed on the Quidditch teams. His whining earned him several death glares from the current players, but he didn't care.
He kept bragging, retelling various flying stunts, each one ending with him narrowly dodging a Muggle helicopter.
Not to be outdone, Theodore Nott chimed in with his own tales of aerial prowess racing hawks, outmaneuvering sparrows.
Zabini took a cooler approach, analyzing the pros and cons of various broom models. If anyone doubted his expertise, he'd mention his 'seventh stepfather'---an internationally renowned Quidditch player--as his source.
....Apparently, his mother was cursed, each of the previous husbands died after a while, but she had to keep re-marrying lest giving in to the fate.
Slytherins weren't the only one, though: the way Seamus Finnegan told it, he'd spent most of his childhood. zooming around countryside on his broomstick.
Even Weasley would tell anyone who'd listen about the time he'd almost hit a hang glider on one of his brothers old broom.
Everyone from wizarding families talked about Quidditch constantly. Apparently Weasley had already had a big argument with Dean Thomas, who shared their dormitory, about football.
Ron couldn't see what was exciting about a game with only one ball where no one was allowed to fly.
Hermione was very nervous about flying and she was clearly not happy with that smirk on her best friend's face.
In short, every wizard-raised student couldn't shut up about brooms, Quidditch, and sky-bound glory.
And finally, the long-anticipated Thursday arrived. Lucifer and Hermione were up early on the following said morning, like usual, but she was still not ready for this class at all.
"Why not? It could be useful, learning to ride on a broomstick," Lucifer said, which still felt weird to say, despite having enough time to get used to the Wizarding World.
"I just don't like the idea of getting very high off the ground that 's all ..." Hermione said with uncertainty.
"So, you have a phobia of height or....just don't like being on a high ground without any safety belts?" he said with a smile plastered stupidly on his face.
After some thinking, she said dismally, "Maybe both."
Lucifer was not that much interested in playing Quidditch. He was brought from his thoughts when she suddenly walked away from him, "Where are you going?"
"The Library," was all Hermione said, exiting the Common Room now that the curfew had been officially lifted.
Lucifer didn't quite know what she was going to find there, but even after just a week, he knew to not try and stop her.
Later at breakfast, he found out why Hermione went to the Library. She read up, rather quickly at that, a book called 'Quidditch Through the Ages.' Had he known, he actually would have tried stopping her, because you can't read on how to fly. It's like riding a bike or driving a car, you can read up all you want, but until you actually try, you don't know how easy or difficult it will be.
Hermione had been explaining to everyone what the book said, and Neville was hanging on every word, since he didn't know how to fly either.
Lucifer analysed the looks on everyone's faces and decided to intervene, "Granger," he said, drawing her from her speech, everyone thankful she stopped, "I don't want to sound rude saying this, but you can't learn how to fly from reading a book. It's something that comes with experience..."
She seemed to realize her error and stopped talking about the book, "It's still a good read, for anyone interested in 'Quidditch..' but there are also spells to wake people up after being unconscious and vice versa," Hermione said quietly before going silent altogether.
The Owl Post soon arrived, Lucifer wasn't expecting anything from Maze, at this point.
He did, however, hear Malfoy gloating about his 'father' sending him things every morning. Lucifer still hasn't gotten any chance to meet him one on one yet but he sounds like a "pampered prince" who reminded him of a certain someone in his celestial life.
He was brought out of his thoughts when Neville had a package dropped off in front of him. He looked over and saw the boy opening his package which contained a Remembrall, "It's a Remembrall," He exclaimed excitedly, "Gran knows I forget things, this tells you if there's something you've forgotten to do. Look, you hold it tight like this and if it turns red it - oh.."
His face fell in despair, because the white/grey smoke inside Remembrall suddenly turned red, "means you've forgotten something... the worst part is when you can't remember what you've forgotten..."
Lucifer finally decided to help the poor boy, "You have forgotten your tie, Longbottom."
Neville looked down and indeed he forgot his tie but then suddenly Draco came strutting over, passing the Gryffindor table and snatching Remembrall out of his hand.
Students turned over to quietly watch him, curious about his next action, because the Professor was coming over here.
Harry and Ron had jumped to their feet, and to Lucifer, it looked like they wanted to fight Malfoy, despite the size of Crabbe and Goyle.
When McGonagall arrived, she was quick to let them know of her presence, "What's going on here?"
"Malfoy's got my Remembrall, Professor," Neville explained to her.
Malfoy quickly put the Remembrall back on the table, his face had a scowl plastered onto it, "I was just looking at it," he said and skulked away.
Before he got out of earshot, Lucifer had to speak up, "Yeah, without asking the owner of said thing..."
He saw Malfoy look back and sneer at him before they went back to the Slytherin table.
At 3:30 that afternoon, Lucifer and Hermione, and all of the other First Years, hurried down front steps into the grounds for their first flying lesson.
It was a clear, breezy day and the grass rippled under their shoes as they marched down the sloping lawns towards smooth lawn on the opposite side of the grounds to the Forbidden Forest, whose trees were swaying darkly in the distance.
Lucifer was intrigued by Forbidden Forest and wondered if Dinosaurs were housed inside it.
It was said that all kinds of magical creatures lived within those woods...
Flying class was the only truly outdoor course at Hogwarts. It took place far beyond west tower-follow the path and you'd eventually reach Quidditch Pitch.
In terms of appearance and layout, it looked somewhat similar to a Muggle football stadium. Simply put, it was like a football field, only several times larger.
After all, this was a field designed for broomstick flying. Just one Silver Arrow, with a tailwind, could reach speeds of up to 70 miles per hour. If the pitch weren't large enough, it would only take seconds for Chasers to reach the opposing hoops and score.
Even though Hermione Granger wasn't remotely looking forward to flying class, classmates clearly didn't share her indifference. It seemed that not even ever--composed Lucifer could resist the allure of flying.
Without realizing it, she began to relax a little too.
"Honestly, getting out in weather like this isn't such a bad thing..." Just as that thought crossed her mind, a loud commotion broke through the air.
Having spent some time with them already, she didn't need to look to know who had arrived. It was those "well behaved quiet" Slytherin's, which of course----made always loud, always full of energy, group of little lions made scowls.
Sure enough, the moment their groups locked eyes, it was with that mutual "Ugh, not you again" expression.
Before anything else could unfold, a silver haired witch strode into view from center of the field.
"All right! What are you all standing around for?"
"Everyone, get beside a broomstick!"
"Quickly now! Don't waste time!"
The witch, broomstick in hand and issuing firm instructions, was none other than the Hogwarts flying instructor, Rolanda Hooch who strode in briskly, her presence commanding attention.
Though Lucifer hadn't expected much from flying class, he'd at least hoped the brooms would be in decent condition.
....But the moment he saw the ones lying in the grass, corners of his mouth twitched involuntarily.
"Are these antiques?" He seriously doubted whether the broom in front of him was even safe. It looked like it might be several centuries old---and just fall apart midair.
Leaning down for a closer look, Lucifer noted that the broom wasn't just old---it was a disaster. The twigs at the tail end were sticking out at odd angles, completely unkempt, and the handle was so worn down that whatever markings or words had once been carved there were now long gone.
This definitely didn't match any model of flying broomstick he knew.
Was it a counterfeit? Lucifer had serious doubts...
"That Greatest Wizard-don't tell me he's been embezzling the school's funds?!"
Ahem. Probably only he would have the nerve to say something like that about the Headmaster.
It may have just been a joke, but he didn't bother to lower his voice. Sure enough, the nearby Gryffindors were glaring at Lucifer Morningstar with expressions that clearly said, "How dare you!"
Across the field Slytherins also immediately gave him a strange look.
Hermione, standing beside him, could only cover her face in dismay. Even she knew full well just how revered the Hogwarts Headmaster was in the wizarding world...
Thankfully, Professor Hooch hadn't heard him. Otherwise, even if she didn't punish him outright, Lucifer would definitely have lost house points. After all, Headmaster or not, Dumbledore was still technically his superior...
....Of course, not all young wizards understood what it meant to call someone properly "the greatest wizard of our time."
For example, Hermione Granger---she didn't think Lucifer was such a bad boy to rebel--actually found a bit of logic in what he'd said.
"If you think about it, equipment used in class really shouldn't be this run-down...." She didn't know much about broomsticks, but on closer inspection, her best friend wasn't wrong.
"Now, we're going to jump straight into it, stick out your right hand over the broom," Madam Hooch meanwhile busy, demonstrated it with her own broom, "and say, 'UP!'"
Her broom jumped straight into her hand.
"UP!" was the collective sound that could be heard.
Many of the remaining brooms looked like they were on the verge of falling apart-more firewood than flying gear.
Harry's broom immediately jumped into his hand, one of the few that did. Hermione's rolled lazily.
Daphne's gave a tiny hop.
Lucifer's? Didn't even twitch, his brow furrowed immediately at being disobeyed by a piece of wood. He repeated the command, louder this time, "Up!"
'SMACK!'
The broom launched itself upward at blinding speed--straight into his face. Quick as a whip, Lucifer caught it by the handle... but the force he applied was too much.
'SNAP!'
The broom broke cleanly in half. Madam Hooch's eye twitched violently.
Lucifer gave her a sheepish smile, that almost seemed evil, "Professor... may I pick another one?"
Before class even properly began, the school had already lost a decently intact broomstick---a fact that left Madam Hooch visibly heartbroken.
But she couldn't really blame Lucifer. It had been a reflexive action. Nothing he could've done about it. All she could do was instruct him to quickly pick another broom and be more careful next time, then return to his place.
Once Lucifer came back, Madam Hooch began demonstrating how to sit on a broom properly without sliding off. She pointed out several students' poor grips and sitting posture.
The named students flushed bright red---many of them had been bragging just this morning about their supposed flying prowess. Now, exposed in front of everyone, they were completely humiliated.
Draco Malfoy, in particular, burned with embarrassment as Harry and Ron chuckled behind their hands while Madam Hooch scolded him.
The look he shot them could've ignited the pair's wood. After everyone's posture had been corrected, it was finally time for part everyone had been waiting for: 'practical flying.'
So far, things had gone pretty smoothly. Madam Hooch was actually quite pleased. The students were picking things up quickly, and no one had caused any chaos.
That is---until the very next second, when everything went wrong.
Before she could even blow her whistle, Neville, too nervous and jittery, slammed his foot into the ground too hard and accidentally launched himself into the air on his broom.
"Come back down, dear!" Madam Hooch shouted after him.
"That person... looks like Longbottom."
Draco's voice as he identified the one who'd caused the commotion. Hearing him, others all shared a knowing look---of course it was Neville again.
It seemed every young wizard was all too familiar with Neville's knack for mishaps...
When you dislike someone, anything they do becomes another reason to dislike them. Just like now, when Ron overheard Draco's remark...
"Typical Slytherin behavior. That's our classmate up there-don't you care at all?!" He seemed to think Draco's indifferent tone was some kind of unforgivable offense.
"He's falling... he's falling!"
"By Merlin's beard!!"
But Neville either didn't hear or couldn't control the broom at all. He just kept rising, wobbling dangerously, until finally-he slipped off. With a dull thud, he crashed into the bushes below, curling into a heap.
Madam Hooch dashed over, her face just as pale as Neville's. After making sure he was still conscious and able to move, she issued a stern command to the rest of the students: 'Nobody move.'
She then turned and addressed the rest of First Years again for a good measure, scaring a few, "None of you are to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! For a proper examination. You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts faster than you can say Quidditch!"
Then, proceeded to take hobbling to the hospital wing.
Lucifer stood watching the whole thing, cold and detached. Sure he might have helped, but ever since leaving Hogwarts train, two even rarely chatted or hung out, which somehow made him... 'indifferent.'
He also thought Madam Hooch was a fool. Neville had been in the air for a good thirty seconds from takeoff to crash. And yet, all Hooch did was yell. Not once had she tried to draw her wand, cast a spell, or even use a simple 'Hover Charm' to slow his fall.
'What was the point of calling herself a witch if she didn't use magic when it actually mattered?'
"Sheesh, that was terrifying," Hermione whispered, her face ghost-white as she clutched Lucifer's arm, "Do you think Neville's going to be okay?"
Lucifer gave a small shake of his head, "He'll be fine. A twenty-foot drop isn't enough to kill someone unless they land on their head. Probably just some cracked bones or a mild fracture. He 'walked' to the hospital wing, didn't he?"
Twenty feet was about six meters around two stories high. Dangerous, sure. But in the wizarding world? A fracture or two was hardly life-threatening.
Hermione finally looked a little less distressed. Without hesitation, she chucked her broom on the ground.
Given the state of her broom-it wasn't much better than Neville's---she wasn't taking any chances.
Suddenly, a commotion broke out nearby. Draco had picked up the crystal ball Neville had dropped and was gleefully waving it around, mocking him.
Harry quickly confronted him, and the two exchanged a few heated words before---'whoosh!~' they shot into the air, chasing each other in a blaze of excitement and gasps from the crowd.
And at that moment, 'The Boy Who Lived' revealed another of his natural talents---Flying!'
Despite never having ridden a broomstick before, Harry was soaring through the air like a Seeker born. His moves were sharp, effortless, instinctual. It was as if he had wings of his own.
Draco, despite all his bragging, had to dodge twice before panic hit him. In desperation, he hurled the crystal ball into the air.
Harry dove after it, cutting through the sky like a comet and at just one foot off the ground, snatched the ball in midair before rolling into a neat landing, however if Lucifer's memory server right, that window----
"Harry Potter!"
Professor McGonagall stormed onto the field, her robes billowing, face flushed with rage.
Draco tried to return to the surface once he saw her coming towards them, but it was too late, she had seen him up on his broom, and Madam Hooch was nowhere to be seen.
"HARRY POTTER! DRACO MALFOY!"
Everyone, literally everyone, went dead silent, they could hear their hearts pounding in their heads.
"Never, in all my time at Hogwarts-" she was seething with anger, "Fifty points from Slytherin for reckless behavior! As for you, Potter, you'll have to follow me." she said with a squint of her eves as she glared at Harry.
Ron tried to defend Harry, but McGonagall wasn't hearing it. She didn't even give him a chance to speak, but grabbed him by the collar and marched the boy away.
Lucifer could only wonder what trouble awaited Potter. And just like that, their first flying lesson ended in utter chaos.
He who thought another fight was going to break out after their departure, inconspicuously took out a packet of half eaten chocolate from who knows where and took a bite.
Hermione who was standing next to him, slanted him with a dangerous look. He clearly misinterpreted the entire thing and nicely offered her, "What...do you want some too?"
He wasn't a petty one after all. There's no problem with sharing his things now and then.
She, who now seemed to forget the entire Neville incident, obviously has no intention of letting him cause more trouble and deduct the hard earned points of Gryffindor.
On behalf of everyone, she decided to act for the greater good, and snatched Lucifer's property away quite violently, "The fuck...I didn't give you the permission to eat the whole thing by...." She gave him a cold glare, and hid the packet away inside her robes.
"..." Lucifer. 'It would be wise to hide the rest of my treasure.....'
When Madam Hooch returned and heard a flurry of conflicting student accounts, she nearly fainted on spot.
Furious, she confiscated all the brooms, gave everyone a droning lecture about safety, and then dismissed them---killing the entire class's excitement.
Lucifer, however, was unbothered. The moment class ended, he headed straight to the Great Hall.
He was starving.
Hermione caught up to him on the way, "Do you think Harry's going to get expelled?"
"Not a chance. This isn't some great offense." Lucifer was already imagining how many chicken wings he could eat in one sitting.
"How is that not a great offense?"
She looked at him, scandalized. "He broke school rules and took off without permission!"
"You didn't notice that Draco got off scot-free, did you? House points were a 'minor' means," Lucifer said, speeding up as the scent of roast meat filled his nose, "Don't think of Hogwarts as some place with strict discipline... As long as you're not murdering people, you could insult the Minister of Magic to his face every day and Dumbledore still wouldn't expel you."
"And you want to know what is a big deal?" he added, "Losing.' That's what really matters."
With that, he dashed to the Gryffindor table. Lately, whether it was due to his overuse of magical power or his rapid physical growth with powers coming back to him, Lucifer's appetite had increased alarmingly.
He was hungrier than usual---and today, he'd already been getting 'peckish' before flying class.
Hermione, who was sitting beside him, quietly cut his steak using her own knife and fork. She even poured meat sauce over it for him, gently pushing her plate toward him once he cleared his own.
Chewing her food slowly, pondering her friend's words.
Greatest Wizard, Dumbledore, it would be a mistake to think Lucifer's casual comment earlier truly reflected carelessness.
In truth, he was always careful when dealing with shrewd people. And besides, he didn't believe the "Greatest Wizard" would seriously act against a minor wizard like himself---especially not over a few careless words.
'That restraint... it was the collar around neck of the Greatest Wizard.'
And then Harry walked in. He was grinning ear to ear, whispering excitedly to Ron. Neither of them noticed Hermione subtly eavesdropping.
"The professor didn't punish me," Harry whispered. "She actually made me Seeker for the Quidditch team. We start training next week."
"You're joking," Ron said, mid-bite, dropping his chicken leg, "A first-year? A Seeker?"
"Shhh, keep it down!" Harry grinned now openly to the world, "It's still a secret. I thought I was dreaming, too. But McGonagall said I'm the youngest Quidditch player in a century. She even brought me to meet Wood---I thought she was going to hit me with a plank at first!"
"That's... that's amazing," Ron said, though his smile didn't quite reach his eyes. He was happy for Harry, sure. But deep down, he couldn't help feeling a little left out.
That's when Malfoy approached.
"Enjoying your 'last' dinner at Hogwarts, Potter?" he sneered. "Better eat up-you'll be back with the Muggles by morning."
He'd been hoping to provoke Harry, to see him angry, humiliated, deflated.
But Harry didn't even flinch. He didn't even look at Malfoy. Instead, his eyes landed on Goyle and Crabbe behind him. He smirked, "You didn't have that kind of courage when we were in the sky.... Feeling bold now that Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum are flanking you?"
Malfoy's face darkened. Goyle and Crabbe clenched their fists, but with the professors still seated at the head table, they dared not act.
Harry leaned in slightly, winning.
"You want to settle this one-on-one? Fine, let's do it tonight, Potter!"
Ron accepted Malfoy's duel challenge on Harry's behalf and even volunteered to be his second.
Harry, for his part, was completely dumbfounded. He had no idea how he'd suddenly ended up scheduled for a duel.
Only after Malfoy had swaggered off did Harry finally ask, "So, what exactly is a wizard's duel? Why do we even need seconds? Are there, like, rules?"
"Oh, sure," Ron said breezily. "If you die, your second steps in to take your place. And they keep going like that until one side's completely wiped out."
Harry's face turned ghostly pale. Seeing this, Ron realized maybe that hadn't come out right. He quickly added, "I mean, that's just the 'traditional' rule. Doesn't mean you and Malfoy are gonna go that far."
"Seriously? You think either of us could even kill the other?" Harry muttered, still pale. Truth be told, he'd barely cast a working spell since arriving at Hogwarts two and a half weeks ago. And even when he did, it was hit-or-miss at best.
"So, would punching him in the face count as cheating?" he asked hopefully.
Ron paused to consider. "Technically, yeah. But if you two stick to just using wands, you could probably duel until sunrise and not land a scratch."
He waved a hand dismissively, "Just punch him square in that smug nose. I've been dying to do that myself!"
Harry considered it. Honestly, it didn't sound like the worst plan. He and Ron leaned in and began whispering battle strategies---how to aim for Malfoy's snooty nose, and maybe even yank out his precious platinum hair
If it came to it, biting was also on the table. Anything went.
Hermione, who had overheard the whole conversation, looked absolutely appalled. Her brow furrowed so tightly it might've folded in on itself. She wanted to step in and stop this madness... but Lucifer's words from earlier kept echoing in her head:
"Losing is what actually matters."
xxxxx
At dinner that night, Prefect Percy came to congratulate him and Hermione on winning Gryffindor so many points.
"I must say, Morningstar," the prefect said, "while your previous lackadaisical attitude towards The House Cup was unbecoming for a Gryffindor, I'm proud that you've begun applying yourself."
'That was... rude,' Hermione thought. But not necessarily untrue.
Lucifer, on the other hand, gasped in offense, but in an obviously over the top, humorous, hand on his heart way. "Lackadaisical?' Weasely, I'll have you know that there is no one more gung--ho about earning those bragging rights than I am. I mean, seriously, the opportunity to win a cup we don't even get to keep? Who wouldn't want that?"
Even Hermione had trouble keeping a straight face. Prefect Percy meanwhile, turned red in anger and stormed off back to his seat.
"That was mean, Lucifer," Hermione said, as soon as she was sure she had her laughter under control.
"Oh, get off him, Hermione," Ron said, who was with Harry at the table, "Percy's a git. You know he said he was hoping I wouldn't get in Gryffindor, because he didn't want me causing him trouble?"
Hermione had not known that.
"Yes, our beloved Percy is a ray of sunshine when you get to know him," One of the twins said, as they suddenly walked up and squeezed into the group.
One on Hermione's right, and other on Lucifer's left, effectively squishing the two of them together.
The twin beside Lucifer said, "yes, but our ickle Lucykins here knows how to keep the Big Bad Prefect Percy away, doesn't he?" while he ruffled the boy's perpetually messy hair.
"You know I'm friends with a giant dragon, right?" Lucifer asked casually.
The twin ruffling his hair froze, then he peered at Lucifer closely, "Huh. I can't tell whether you're joking or not."
Lucifer smiled a friendly little smile. "Good, it'll keep you on your toes."
"This one is dangerous, brother," the twin beside Lucifer said to the one beside Hermione.
"Indeed, brother," the twin beside her replied.
Then Lucifer spoke up again, "so, Bread and Porridge, what brought you guys here?" It took everybody about five seconds to get the joke, and within two days, the whole school called the twins Bread and Porridge.
xxxxxx