“Another 10 points to Gryffindor!” Lee’s voice echoed around the crowded stands, a loud array of cheers from the fellow Gryffindor house students blending in with the boos and groans from the Slytherins.
Fred loved Quidditch. Obviously not as much as someone like Oliver, but he definitely enjoyed it. He loved people cheering for him and his brother, both of them walking around the schools like heroes after they’d just won a game, or the benefits that came from being able to skip out on classes for practice.
And they’d gotten to skip out on quite a few classes these last few weeks in preparation for todays game.
It was closing in on the school year, meaning the Quidditch finals were coming up, and Gryffindor was beating Slytherin, only barely, but beating them nonetheless. So it seems that the Slytherin method for this game was just pure brutality.
So far Katie had already been knocked off her broom numerous times, Oliver was sporting several bruises along his arms, Harry had narrowly avoided a collision twice, and George received an elbow to the face.
That last one particularly annoyed Fred, obviously, who had retaliated by sending a bludger straight into Goyle’s chest, winding the lad enough that it took him several minutes to re-enter the game.
“You alright, Georgie?” Fred asked as he flew alongside his brother for a brief check in.
“Never better, Freddie!” George winked back at him with his good eye. “Nice hit!”
The twins extended their arms, whacking their bats togethers in celebration before flying in separate directions, proceeding with the game and doing their best to avoid any further altercations which they’d been rather successful at. George took down Bletchley and Fred had managed to send another bludger straight into Goyle, much to his own amusement and the other boys displeasure as he gritted through his teeth, hissing at his fellow teammates something that Fred didn’t hear.
The twins beamed at each other from across the field, cheering as George made another good hit that helped score Gryffindor 10 more points, and made their way towards each other with their arms stretched outright for another celebratory bat connection, before Fred’s entire arm felt like it had been pulverised by a Reducto curse.
He shouted in pain, pulling his arm back towards his chest as the bludger continued on its route past them, a smirking Crabbe waving his beater around in victory as Goyle joined him gleefully.
“Fred!” George shouted in concern, flying towards his twin for closer inspection. “Freddie, you alright?”
Through gritted teeth Fred tried to calm his breathing, arm clinging to his chest and sending a nasty wave of nausea through him anytime he even tried to twitch. “I think- I think my arms broken…” Fred experimented, trying to move his arm away from his chest, resulting in a croaked scream escaping his lips. “Scratch that. It’s definitely broken.”
“Those bastards!” George hissed, whacking his hand onto his broom for emphasis. “They did that on purpose – we weren’t even in proper game yet!” Fred didn’t respond, instead still focusing on trying to reduce the amount of pain he was in with simple breathing. George softened his tone when he saw the state of his brother. “We need to get you to a nurse.”
Fred shook his head. “And be one player down? Do you want to deal with Wood whinging at us for the rest of the season for costing us this game?”
George looked dumfounded. “We’re already one player down if you can’t even use your bat!”
“I’ll use my other arm.”
“And fall off your broom in the process? Wow, good thinking genius.”
Just then, team captain Oliver Wood approached them, a concerned look on his face but whether that concern was targeted at Fred’s wellbeing or the risk of the Quidditch game was to be debated. “Lads, what’s the damage? That looked like a rough hit...”
“Those oafs broke his arm is the damage!” George spat, glaring at the still snickering huddle of Slytherin’s.
“My left arms still perfectly fine.” Fred added, trying to soothe things over and stop his brother from catastrophising.
Oliver, however, shook his head. “Absolutely not.”
“What?” Fred baffled. “Wood, you’ll be down a player if you don’t let me stay on.”
“If you stay on then George over here is going to be too distracted keeping you on your broom than knocking those ‘oafs’ off theirs.” Fred looked over to George, receiving confirmation when his twin simply nodded with a casual shrug, not even attempting to deny Oliver’s allegations. “We’re ahead right now, so let’s just hope Potter catches the snitch sooner rather than later.”
“Come on mate, you know I can’t just let those gits get away that easily!” Fred practically whined.
Oliver rolled his eyes. “Go see a nurse, Weasley, or I’ll be having you up at 4am for solo practice for a month! Weasley, get back in the game!” And with that, the captain flew down to the ground, most likely to update the officials of his decision that Fred would be leaving the game and end the time-out he’d claimed.
Fred pouted, letting out a sigh as he spared a glance to his brother still hovering by his side. “Don’t give me those puppy dog eyes, you know I agree with o’captain my captain.” George rolled his eyes. “Your arm looks right messed up!” They both heard a whistle from below. “Alright, off you go cripple, before Wood has an aneurism at his precious game being paused any longer.”
“You’ll give em hell for me?”
George gave Fred a look, one that only Fred would understand, a sign of ‘would you ever doubt me?’ before he flew off back into the now resumed game, Fred groaning at his own misfortune of not only the broken arm but also having to miss out on the payback his twin was about to dish out as he carefully made his way down towards the ground, quickly learning that flying with one arm, let alone his non-dominant arm, was actually quite difficult. Probably a good thing he’d been sent off to the nurse.
With his attention elsewhere, Fred first heard the commotion of the ongoing game behind him and the slight comments of the fellow Gryffindor students in the grandstands wishing him well and cheering him on before he saw something coming at him from his peripheral.
There’s a reason he’s a Beater and not a Seeker, as his attention to detail when it comes to his surroundings weren’t always the best, because it seemed Crabbe and Goyle weren’t satisfied with their doings and had taken it upon themselves to hit the bludger back in Fred’s direction, and had his twin brother not been keeping an eye on him to ensure he got off the field safely, the chances of Fred arriving at the hospital with much more than a broken arm were exponential.
He saw George a second too late, zooming up until he was practically brushed up against his side and whacking the bludger back in the direction it came, a foul look on his face that even Fred himself had only ever seen on his twin maybe once or twice in their lifetime. “You fuckers! His back was turned! You low-life, pathetic little turds!” Fred didn’t even have time to fully comprehend what had just happened before George sped off, straight towards Crabbe with no sign of slowing down.
“Oh, Merlin-“ Fred startled, but it was too late.
George barged into Crabbe, swinging his fist into the other boy’s nose for good measure, following it up with a kick to the back of his broomstick to send the boy spiralling down to the ground where he luckily was able to land with only a small grunt, but his luck ended there.
Not far behind him came George who practically jumped off his broom on top of the boy, sending them both crashing to the dirt, George never letting up on his raining fists and kicks while Crabbe scrambled to find his footing. Despite Crabbe being more built than George, the red-head was more vicious, his technique aiming for more quantity over quality, never really letting the other kid even take a second to position himself properly as strikes landed rapidly from all angles, curses and insults being thrown that Fred wasn’t even sure where his brother had learnt them – probably from Charlie.
“How – dare – you!” George screamed in-between punches, his face turning the same shade of red as his hair.
Fred jumped off his broom, knowing he’d be a lot faster on foot right now, and sprinted over to the commotion while all the players on the field did the same, the entire grandstands (minus Slytherin, of course) celebrating and cheering the Weasley on while the boys continued brawling.
“Weasley!” Wood shouted as he arrived, grabbing a hold of George’s arm as he raised it high to land another blow, allowing Crabbe the opportunity to get a weak kick into his midsection as he scrambled back, the other Slytherin’s arriving to the scene now with some assisting Crabbe to his feet while others stalked towards George with venom in their eyes, but George wasn’t holding back.
“Come on you gits! You want to play dirty, let’s play dirty! You think I’m afraid of your big ugly faces, huh?!”
“WEASLEY!” Oliver tried again, holding George back as best he could while the taller man kept twisting in his grip.
By this point the rest of the Gryffindor team had arrived and was busy trying to hold back the Slytherin team, Fred making note of the slight smirk Harry had while he pretended to assist in holding George back, knowing full well the brunette wanted to see the twins kick some ass right now.
“George!” Fred shouted as he finally intercepted between all the shoving bodies, arm still clinging to his chest as he ignored the throbbing pain radiating through his body from the jolting of his running. His twin didn’t seem to even notice him at first, instead trying to look past him with rage as he continued resisting against Oliver, Harry having given up by this point and was just standing to the side with glee. “Oi, you berk!” He said louder, more stern in his voice but not adding any bite to his comment.
This seemed to get his brothers attention as the same eyes as his own locked on, lips thinning as he seethed, the sight of his brother being the thing to finally start bringing him out of this rage he’d found himself in.
“Let it go.” George opened his mouth to snap something in response, but Fred beat him to it. “You wanna be the one to tell mum why you got expelled? Hmm? Cause you and I both know you’ll be de-gnoming the garden and getting lectures about ‘responsibility’ all winter and that’s just a fate worse than a simple hospital trip.”
George bit back a comment, taking in a deep breath.
“Yeah, Weasel!” Someone laughed from behind. “Don’t want to go disappointing Mummy.”
Fred put his hand on George’s chest as the taller of the twins jolted forward again. “Let it go!” He repeated, letting out a gasp as his brother squirmed against his grip, causing his broken arm to shift placement, his good hand gripping onto his elbow to keep it still as he hunched forward from the shock of the pain.
“Fred?” Harry spoke up, coming up to rest a hand on his back while George settled instantly, finally shrugging himself off Oliver with panic in his eyes.
“You need a nurse…” He commented, not quite sure where to put his hands.
“I was going to the nurse before you decided to be a dimwit and take on the entire Slytherin team on your own.” Fred replied, the lace of playfulness in his tone.
“I’m the dimwit? Who is it that can’t see 5ft in front of them to know when a bloody bludger is aiming straight for their head?”
“Shame too, we could’ve ridded this school of one of the Weasley pests!” A Slytherin, Goyle it sounded like, spat and George was pouncing before Fred even managed to roll his eyes.
The sound of people approaching reminded everyone that they were still not only in front of their fellow students, but also their teachers, as Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape marched over, neither of them looking very impressed. “That is enough!” McGonagall shouted, stopping all the chaos in its tracks as everyone looked sheepishly in their direction. “I’m not sure what you are all trying to prove here but it ends now!” She shot a glance to Fred, opening up her arm. “Mr Weasley, come with me and we will escort you to the nurse.” A group of small snickers came from behind as Fred joined her, earning a deathly glare from the Professor. “Don’t think that this unsportsmanlike barbaric play will go unpunished. I have every mind to disqualify Slytherin from this game.”
“What?!”
“You can’t do that!”
“That’s so unfair!”
“It aint our fault! It’s Weasels-“
“Silence!” She held a hand up, shutting up the protests and leaving just the laughter from George and Harry, quickly earning both of them the same glare. “As for you Mr Weasley, I can assure you that your behaviour will be equally as punished.”
“But Professor, you saw what they did! He wasn’t even in the game anymore and they tried to take him out!”
“And should that have been the case then the appropriate responses would have been in order, yet you seem to think you are above the rules and repercussions of the game.” Snape piped in, the same disinterested tone and snarl to his voice.
“Should that have been the case than Fred would have a chunk of his skull scattered somewhere on the field! You expect me to just sit back and let-“
“I expect you-“ Snape hissed, voice raised with irritation. “to meet me for detention tomorrow.”
“What-“
Snape took one striding step forward until he was looming over George, glaring down at him. “Give me a reason to expel you... I. dare. you.” Fred glared at his brother, silently telling him to just shut up and stop making things worse for himself, something that thankfully his brother was able to understand as he swallowed back whatever argument he had, simply looking down at the ground in forced defeat. “Ah, so they can be silenced.” Snape huffed with a tease, stepping back beside McGonagall and Fred.
“Wood, Bletchley, get your teams under control or so help me I will cancel this game, do I make myself clear?”
“Crystal clear Professor McGonagall.” Oliver spoke up far too urgently.
“Yeah yeah…” Bletchley groaned, signalling for the rest of Slytherin to make their way back to their side for a quick team huddle, Professor Snape sparing one last glance at both teams before turning on his heels to go back to his seat.
Oliver did the same, beginning to usher Gryffindor to a huddle with annoyance, Harry pulling onto George’s sleeve to get him to move. “Oh, and Mr Weasley.” Professor McGonagall spoke up, stopping George and Harry to look back at her. “Remember – excessive elbows will earn you a foul.” She smirked, giving him a subtle wink before ushering Fred along with her, mumbling about some peace and quiet now that one of twins would be sidelined from pranks for a little bit.
George chuckled to himself. “What’s so funny?” Harry asked as they walked back to the team huddle.
“How many elbows do you think qualify as ‘excessive’?”
“Depends how long you want to be stuck in detention with Snape, I suppose. Or how long you want to be on Oliver’s bad side, actually.” George hummed in thought as he contemplated which was worse. “You alright? I’ve never seen you so… enraged, like that before.”
George looked down at Harry with a confused expression. “It’s Fred.” He stated very matter-of-factly, as if that was enough of an explanation.
And funny thing is, it was more than enough of an explanation.
No one asked George what had gotten into him. No one asked him why. No one hesitated in shock. Heck, even Fred didn’t seem surprised by it.
Everyone knew exactly why George did what he did.
It was Fred.