When Orli returned to Gryffindor Tower, the corridor clock had already chimed past nine. She'd hoped to slip back to her dormitory unnoticed during the quiet evening hours, but the moment she stepped through the portrait hole, she discovered the common room alive with chaos—students packed shoulder to shoulder, voices raised in excitement. Fortunately, no one spared her a glance; every pair of eyes was riveted on the cluster of sofas dominating the center of the room.
Fred and George stood like carnival barkers before a line of eager first-years, distributing mysterious treats to students whose cheeks bulged comically as they chewed with obvious relish.
"Ron!" Hermione's voice cut through the din like a blade, fury crackling in every syllable.
"They've crossed the line this time!"
"Come off it, Hermione," Ron said, though his voice lacked conviction. "We can't exactly forbid them from giving sweets to younger students..."
Ron was clearly buying time, hoping the situation would resolve itself.
"You know perfectly well they're peddling Skiving Snackboxes!" Hermione snapped. "Or Puking Pastilles, or maybe even—"
"Love potions?" Harry supplied in an undertone, eyebrows raised.
As if summoned by his words, the younger students began dropping like flies. One moment they were chattering excitedly, the next they were collapsing onto floors and furniture as though struck by invisible mallets. Several sprouted grotesquely swollen tongues that lolled from their mouths like pink slugs. The watching crowd roared with laughter, treating the spectacle like the evening's entertainment.
Hermione's face could have curdled milk as she marched toward the twins. Ron hauled himself from his armchair, looking like a man walking to his execution.
"Enough," Hermione declared, her voice carrying the authority of a seasoned professor.
"Absolutely right," George agreed cheerfully, surveying his handiwork. "The dosage is spot-on now."
"I've told you repeatedly—no experimenting on fellow students!"
"But we compensated them fairly!" Fred protested, as though this settled all moral questions.
"Payment doesn't excuse endangering people..."
"Relax, Hermione," Lee Jordan interjected, materializing with a handful of purple antidotes. "Look—they're perfectly fine." He moved efficiently through the casualties, popping the remedies into slack mouths. The victims began stirring, blinking in confusion as consciousness returned. They looked around with the bewildered expressions of people waking from unexpected naps, clearly having no memory of volunteering to be test subjects.
Orli would have wagered her last Galleon that the twins' recruitment pitch had conveniently omitted any mention of temporary unconsciousness.
"How are you feeling? Everything all right?" George asked with genuine concern, crouching beside a diminutive first-year girl whose pigtails had come askew during her collapse.
The child nodded mutely, still too dazed to speak.
"Brilliant results!" Fred exclaimed, practically vibrating with scientific enthusiasm. But his celebration was short-lived—Hermione swooped down like an avenging angel, confiscating both boxes of experimental sweets.
"There's nothing brilliant about this."
"But they're all perfectly healthy!" Fred wheedled. "Not a single casualty!"
"What if someone had an allergic reaction?" Hermione's voice rose dangerously. "What if one of them didn't wake up?"
"Impossible," George said with the confidence of youth. "We tested every formula on ourselves first. This is just quality control—making sure the effects are consistent across different body types."
"If you don't stop this immediately—"
"What, going to give us detention?" Fred's tone dripped with mock terror.
"Perhaps some lines to copy?" George added, grinning like a shark.
"I'm writing to your mother!"
The threat hit like a thunderclap. Hermione's hair seemed to expand with her fury, crackling with static electricity that made the air itself taste of copper and rage.
"You wouldn't dare..." George's bravado evaporated, and he took an involuntary step backward.
"Try me." Hermione's eyes blazed with righteous indignation. "I don't care what you do to yourselves, but these first-years are off-limits!" She hurled the confiscated sweets back at Fred with enough force to make him flinch, then fixed both twins with a glare that could have melted steel. "Consider this your only warning."
She spun on her heel and stalked back to their table, leaving the twins looking distinctly less cocky.
"Thanks for the backup, Prefect Ron," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm sweet enough to rot teeth.
"I knew you had everything under control," Ron mumbled into his collar, the picture of sheepish guilt.
Orli materialized at their table as smoothly as morning mist, settling into an empty chair as though she'd been there all evening. Her movements were so natural, so perfectly timed, that even she was impressed with her own subtlety. Of course, the discrete Confundus Charm she cast on all three of them didn't hurt—just a gentle nudge to make her presence feel completely unremarkable.
The twins were already regrouping, whispering furiously as they planned their next move. Some battles were won, but the war between innovation and regulation would continue. In Gryffindor Tower, it always did.