“Oh, I love it already.”
“I couldn’t agree more, Georgie.”
“See, the first problem is going to be–”
“-timing, and secondly we have to think of–”
“-chemoreceptors, obviously. But how do we handle–”
“Levitation, George. Levitation.”
“Oh, right. And…how do you feel about fondant?”
The twins barked out identical laughs, slapped each other on the back, and finally turned to face Hermione. She brushed a curl behind her ear and narrowed her eyes. “I hate fondant, actually. Better go with buttercream.”
“Yes!” They exclaimed, giving each other high fives. “We knew you’d say that.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yes, yes, now that we all remember that you are in fact, twins, can we continue?”
They nodded.
Hermione waved her wand and a giant blueprint unfolded across the floor. Detailed across the surface: a birthday cake. Harry’s birthday cake, to be exact. She’d gotten the idea from Remus, really, when he reminded her of his Marauder status. From what she knew about the Marauders’ time at Hogwarts, they spent an awful lot of effort charming things, like maps, to appear ordinary whilst holding something extraordinary inside. Add to the fact that Harry’s birthday was approaching, and her evil plan was born. A Happy Birthday Harry Potter But Also Here Is All The Information Dumbledore Won’t Let Us Tell You So We Hid It Inside A Charmed Cake Cake. Or HBHPBAHIATIDWLUTYSWHIIACCC for short. So far, the twins weren’t thrilled with the name, but she’d win them over. Eventually.
She used her wand as a pointer and tapped lightly on the diagram. “Here is the best place for charmwork. Statistically speaking, centers of mass align with centers of magic, so it’ll survive the travel better if we begin here. We don’t want our charm to wear off too soon, or else Harry will just get a regular cake–”
“We like regular cake.”
“-but we also don’t want the spell to rely on timing alone because we have no way of knowing the schedules of the Dursleys. Therefore, as you so deftly mentioned, George, we need the spell to activate when it comes into contact with chemoreceptors. Fred, you’re up.”
“Lovely. Lean in class,” Fred began to whisper conspiratorially. “As the Senior Manager of Weasley Wizard Wheezes–”
George punched him.
“-I am the most qualified to produce the charmwork for this mission. I now present to you, Prototype A!” Fred pulled out his wand, aimed it at a sock, and muttered a spell under his breath. Hermione and George held their breaths. Nothing happened.
Hermione frowned. “Is that it?”
“Someone has to put it in their mouth, obviously,” Fred said.
“No way!” Hermione yelped.
“I’ll do it!” George volunteered. He grabbed the sock and flung the end onto his tongue. His eyes squeezed shut as he concentrated. After a few moments passed, they popped open and he began choking on the cloth. Hermione hastily yanked it out from between his lips while Fred pounded his back.
When he caught his breath, George burst into laughter. “Merlin, Freddie. It worked. Well, sorta. Once I tasted the sock, which was dirty you prick, I could actually hear your voice. Except it was backward. How’d you manage that?”
Fred turned over his wand and shoved the point near his eyeball. He shook the wood a bit in frustration. “Come on, man! How could you embarrass me like that?”
Hermione giggled and faced George, who was wiping off his tongue on his shirt. “Your turn. Let’s see if you can do any better.”
George pulled out his own wand and aimed at the glass of milk on the dresser. He too muttered some newly developed spell, and like with his brother, nothing seemed to happen. Hermione sighed and reached for the glass. She didn’t allow herself to second guess it as she sipped carefully.
The twins stared at her with wide eyes.
First, there was nothing. Just…milk. Honestly, Hermione wasn’t a fan. It didn’t do wonderful things for her stomach, regardless of what the quidditch players claimed about it helping them grow stronger. She bet that they didn’t realize most of the world was lactose intolerant. She froze. Of course, they wouldn’t realize most of the world was lactose intolerant, because wizards didn’t know what lactose was, or enzymes, or the mechanics of digestion. What a pity–
Golden girl with chocolate curls
Dating Ron would make her hurl
Georgie wants to take a bite
Keep her up the whole damn night–
“GEORGE!”
The twins fist-bumped and George barked out a laugh. Hermione hoped the glare she was shooting toward the culprit was sharp enough to kill. The stupid rhyme was still playing in her head. Georgie wants to take a bite. Hermione growled at the boy and lunged over the blueprints, crinkling the paper. She didn’t care. She was going to kill him.
“‘Mione! Hermione wait–”
Hermione tackled him to the ground while Fred wheezed in amusement. She hissed, “You foul little twat!”
“But Hermione, bloody hell woman! That hurts!”
She yanked on his long red hair again. Harder. “That’s what you get for saying such filth!”
“But Hermione!”
“You have lost all talking privileges!” She elbowed him in the mouth, and he barely dodged quick enough to save his teeth. She scowled and swung again.
“Hermione!”
She ignored him, pinning his arms to the side. He deserved a proper lecture, one that he couldn’t weasle his way out of. “No, you listen here young man–”
“Hermione, love, I think what George is trying to say is that it worked, didn’t it?”
Fred’s voice cut through Hermione’s rage like a knife. She froze. George sighed in relief underneath her. “Oh,” she said softly. “Oh,” she said again, this time jumping off of the redhead and rushing over to straighten the blueprint. She pulled out a pencil and began scribbling. “Okay, so if we use George’s spell and trap in here in a simple Pandora’s Box charm–”
“You’re welcome,” George muttered, gingerly prodding his jaw. She ignored him.
“-Fred can adjust the locator aspect of the box, so that it won’t even initiate until it passes into Privet Drive. When Harry takes a bite of the cake, which will assuredly be soon after receiving it, the chemoreceptors on his tongue will be triggered, thus activating the charm and releasing whatever we record.”
Fred cleared his throat. “Ambitious as you are, Hermione dear, I’m not sure we can fit everything into one recording. Unless we get a ridiculously large cake.”
“Of course, not,” Hermione agreed quickly. “Which is why we are going to forget Harry’s birthday.”
“We’re what?” George asked.
She pretended it was Fred who’d raised the question and faced him. “We’re going to forget Harry’s birthday. We’ll send a cake tonight, with some of the information. The basics, really. Obviously, it is not Harry Potter’s birthday today. So naturally, we’ll need to amend our mistake and send him another cake. We are his friends, after all. We must make sure he has a cake on his birthday. So we’ll send another tomorrow.”
“But tomorrow isn’t his birthday.”
“Oh darn,” Hermione sighed dramatically, “I fear you may be right. We’ll just have to send another on the following day. And the next. And the next. And the next, until we reach his actual birthday. I mean, we have to get the date right eventually, don’t we?”
The twins exchanged a grin. “You’re bloody brilliant,” they chorused.
Hermione stood and took a bow. “Thank you, thank you very much.”
And with that, they got to work. By the end of the night, Harry Potter was going to know significantly more about the wizarding world’s current events and Order happenings. If anyone asked, Hermione was teaching the twins how to bake. She smirked and tied on an apron. “Boys, get me the bloody flour.”