Going out with a Bang
The Great Hall was alive with a vibrant buzz that only came once a year—graduation day. The long tables had been replaced with rows of seats, all facing the stage where the headmaster, professors, and special guests would soon sit. The hall was adorned with golden banners that shimmered in the light, each bearing the Hogwarts crest. Flowers in full bloom lined the edges of the stage, and the air smelled faintly of fresh parchment and old magic. There was a certain heaviness that filled the space, as though everyone felt the significance of the day—this was the end of something, a milestone, a turning point for all the students preparing to step into the unknown.
The Gryffindor table was crowded with familiar faces, but amidst the sea of red and gold robes, two stood out above the rest. Fred and George Weasley. They had been a fixture of Hogwarts for seven years, bringing laughter, chaos, and more pranks than any of them could ever count. Their absence in the coming year would leave a gaping hole in the school, but for now, the twins were the centre of attention, just as they always had been.
Hermione sat at the table with Harry and Ron, her heart a little heavy as she watched them. She had never thought of herself as someone who got sentimental over endings, but now, with the reality of their departure settling in, she couldn’t help but feel the sting of it all. This was the last time they’d all be together in this way—no more late-night chats in the common room, no more adventures, no more ridiculous arguments about ridiculous things.
“Well, this is it,” Ron said, a note of awe in his voice as he looked at Fred and George, who were doing their best to look unaffected by the sheer magnitude of the moment.
“It’s really happening,” Harry added, his expression sombre but proud. “They’re actually leaving.”
Hermione didn’t answer right away. She was too busy watching Fred and George, who were both uncharacteristically quiet, their usual bravado replaced by something more thoughtful, almost bittersweet. Fred caught her gaze across the table and winked, his mischievous smile breaking through for just a moment, though it was tinged with a sort of melancholy she hadn’t expected.
The ceremony began with the usual fanfare—Headmaster McGonagall, dignified as ever, gave a long-winded speech about the accomplishments of the students and the bright future ahead of them. She spoke of perseverance, courage, and the importance of upholding the values of Hogwarts. But no one really listened. The words felt like background noise compared to the more pressing reality—the realization that this was the moment they had all been waiting for. The moment of transition.
When the time came for students to step forward and collect their diplomas, Fred and George, of course, were the first to make a spectacle of themselves. As their names were called, they stood together, grinning from ear to ear, both of them making dramatic gestures as though preparing for a grand entrance.
The crowd burst into laughter as Fred tossed a handful of what looked like harmless crackers into the air, only for them to explode into a spectacle of sparkling fireworks. A wave of vibrant reds, golds, and greens burst through the air, showering the Hall with vivid, crackling light. The fireworks fizzled out before they could touch the ground, but the brief, dazzling display was enough to send waves of excitement rippling through the audience. First-years gasped in shock and delight, some squealing with surprise, while the older students, who had come to expect the twins’ antics, laughed and clapped in pure enjoyment. Even a few of the professors, their faces stern and rigid, couldn’t help but allow the faintest of smiles to twitch at the corners of their lips. And then there was Professor McGonagall.
The usually composed Head of Gryffindor stood with her arms crossed, an eyebrow raised in an unmistakable mix of annoyance and amusement, though she could do little to hide the glimmer of affection that shone through her usually stern gaze. She had known, of course, that Fred and George wouldn’t just stroll through the ceremony like everyone else. No, their exit was always going to be a grand one. “You’re supposed to collect your diplomas, not blow up the Hall!” she called out, but even her words lacked their usual sharpness. Instead, there was a warmth in her voice—one that spoke of years spent watching the twins grow from mischievous troublemakers to the young men before her. She was hardly surprised.
Fred and George, grinning like a pair of cats that had just raided the cream jug, shrugged nonchalantly in perfect synchrony. “What’s a Weasley exit without a little fireworks?” Fred boomed, his voice loud and clear, the energy in the room seeming to rise along with his words. The students erupted in laughter and cheers. Some students began chanting “Weasley! Weasley!” while others just shook their heads in disbelief. In that moment, Hogwarts had become one gigantic celebration, and Fred and George were the stars of the show.
With their signature flourish, the twins took a dramatic bow, each sweeping a hand over their chest as though they were performing for an audience of millions. The crowd cheered even louder as they swaggered toward the front of the stage to collect their diplomas, their faces alight with the joy of the moment. Even McGonagall, despite her best efforts to maintain decorum, let a small, exasperated chuckle escape.
From the Gryffindor table, Ron rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the fond smile spreading across his face. He had known Fred and George for years, watched them push boundaries, and pull pranks in ways no one else could. And today, of all days, was no different. “They never do anything the easy way,” he muttered, but there was no trace of annoyance in his voice—only admiration and a touch of pride. Beside him, Harry chuckled. They were going to miss this—miss them.
Hermione, who had been watching the twins with a quiet, sentimental smile, felt a lump in her throat. It wasn’t just another prank. This wasn’t about fireworks or mischief for the sake of a laugh. There was a finality to what Fred and George were doing, a closing chapter that neither of them could escape, no matter how much they would have liked to. They were leaving Hogwarts for good. And this prank, their last at this school, felt like a send-off—an explosion of their personalities, of their way of life, one last time.
As Fred and George stepped forward to receive their diplomas, they lingered for a moment longer than necessary, exchanging a silent look between them. For the first time in years, there was a brief flicker of something other than pure mischief in their eyes—an unspoken understanding that this was it. This was the last time they would be on this stage, the last time they would stand together before the student body, the last time they’d be in the very place where they’d caused so much chaos. It was a poignant moment, but one that only they could fully comprehend.
“We’ll miss you all,” Fred called out suddenly, his voice carrying across the hall with a touch more sincerity than his usual antics allowed. “But don’t worry! We’ll be back to make sure you don’t forget what real fun looks like!” His grin returned in full force as he scanned the room, as if daring anyone to challenge his words.
“Just wait ‘til our joke shop opens,” George added, with a cheeky wink thrown toward the younger students in the audience. “You’ll never look at a broomstick the same way again.”
Laughter erupted around the room once more, and for a moment, it felt as though Hogwarts itself was holding its breath, not wanting to let go of the twins just yet. They weren’t just leaving Hogwarts—they were leaving behind a legacy, an irrepressible force of nature that had touched every corner of the school.
The twins exchanged another quick look, one that was more private than the audience could see, before they took a few more steps toward the stage’s edge. There was no fanfare, no last grand speech. Just Fred, in his usual devil-may-care way, muttering something under his breath as he raised his wand high.
Before anyone could react, a sudden explosion of colour filled the air. Fred’s fireworks burst to life, spiralling upward with breathtaking speed, trailing vibrant, twinkling streaks of red, gold, and green across the ceiling in a spectacular arc. The entire Hall gasped collectively, the brilliance of the display sending the students into a hushed awe. The fireworks seemed to swirl around the rafters like a living thing, exploding into the kind of chaotic beauty that only Fred and George could orchestrate. The crowd leaned forward, eyes wide, as the colours splashed across the ceiling in shimmering patterns.
And then, the grand finale.
In a final, thunderous explosion, the fireworks split apart into a brilliant display of silver and gold, showering the room in a sparkling rain of light. It seemed to hang in the air for a moment, suspended in time before the glittering sparks fell slowly back to earth. When they finally settled, what was left behind wasn’t just the fading embers of a prank—it was a message, a declaration, written in the fiery glow above them for all to see: “THE WEASLEYS WILL BE BACK!”
The crowd was in an uproar. Applause thundered through the Hall, deafening in its intensity, as even the professors, who had spent the last seven years trying to curb the twins’ antics, couldn’t help but be swept up in the sheer brilliance of it all. McGonagall shook her head, a tiny, fond smile curving the edges of her lips, her arms crossed tightly against her chest, though her eyes betrayed a warmth that went deeper than words. The twins had done it again. And as much as she would miss them, she couldn’t deny that Hogwarts would never be the same without them.
Fred and George stood at the front of the stage for a long moment, the room still roaring with applause. They were bathed in the light from their fireworks, their grins widening as they soaked in the chaos and the love that surrounded them. For one last time, they had done what they did best—leaving a mark, making sure that no one would ever forget who the Weasley twins were.
As the applause died down, Fred leaned in toward Hermione, who had been watching them with something in her eyes that he couldn’t quite place. “Don’t worry, Hermione,” he said softly, leaning closer so that only she could hear. “We’ll be back. Don’t worry about that.” His tone was lighter than ever, but there was something beneath it, something deeper that spoke of all the things they hadn’t said yet, of everything they hadn’t yet shared.
Hermione’s smile was bittersweet as she met his eyes, her heart heavy with the knowledge that things were changing in ways she wasn’t sure she was ready for. “Just promise me one thing,” she said, her voice thick with unspoken sentiment. “Promise me you won’t blow up Diagon Alley before then.”
George, who had been listening in, grinned from the side, leaning in with a cheeky glint in his eyes. “Can’t make any promises, Granger,” he teased, nudging her with his elbow. “But we’ll try to keep the explosions to a minimum.”
Fred gave her one last, heartfelt wink before he and George turned to leave, their steps echoing in the grand hall. The crowd parted for them, and as they made their way toward the doors, Fred, ever the showman, threw one last firework into the air. It exploded above the hall with a deafening crack, scattering colourful sparks like confetti, leaving behind the letters "WEASLEYS FOREVER."
And then, just like that, they were gone.
The twins stepped out of Hogwarts for the final time, their footsteps echoing in the stillness of the courtyard, leaving behind a trail of laughter, mischief, and a legacy that would forever be woven into the fabric of the castle. Hermione stood at the entrance, watching them disappear into the distance, her heart heavy with the weight of the moment. Everything was changing, and it was hard to imagine Hogwarts without Fred and George’s constant energy, their wild antics, and the chaos they so effortlessly created.
But as she glanced around at her friends—Ron, Harry, and the rest of the familiar faces who would still be there next year—Hermione couldn’t help but feel a glimmer of hope. Yes, things were changing, but that didn’t mean it was the end. Fred and George may have been leaving, but their influence would remain, etched into the very walls of Hogwarts and into her heart, a reminder of the fun and the freedom they had brought to their school days. It wasn’t goodbye, not really. The twins had made sure of that.