Of Pranks and Tactical Pacts
That neither Weasley twin had produced a set of twins had been a source of relief to every Hogwarts professor.
Unfortunately, their youngest children were born less than three hours apart, and the shop in Diagon Alley had two magically-extended flats above. They may as well have been twins; the only difference was that the professors lived in blissful ignorance of how close the cousins were for eleven years.
"I need to retire," Minerva groaned, rubbing her temple with her left hand while her right duplicated another letter home regarding their respective youngest offspring and Banished both.
She shook her already-loosened hair forwards and examined the strands ruefully. It was red, but there were stripes of blue, green and yellow present too, overlaid with glittering gold.
She didn't know they'd changed everyone's hair. She certainly didn't know how. But she'd bet a year's wages on their guilt - Roxanne with her damnable brains and Eden with their unique brand of cunning.
A knock sounded at the door.
"Enter," she said, waving a hurried hand to return her colourful hair to its customary bun, attempting to maintain some sense of decorum.
Roxanne and Eden walked shoulder-to-shoulder - a united front. Minerva sighed.
"I don't know how you did it," she started.
"Did what, Professor?" Eden interrupted, shaking back their short and currently-scarlet curls.
"You know what. I can't prove it, so I can't take points," she said. She ran a hand over her own hair. "I wonder why I am the only one with multiple colours," she mused. "Professor Flitwick was also a hatstall - as was your own cousin, was he not?"
"Sure, Scorp was on the stool for ages," Roxanne agreed.
"I imagine it is in deference to your position as Headmistress and therefore a neutral influence, rather than your Sorting experience," Eden suggested, their tone formal and annoyingly logical.
"And yet there is more red and gold than anything else.".
"You are a Gryffindor, Headmistress," Eden said. "You look after your cubs."
"Mm," she replied, narrowing her eyes. "Yes, well. I can't punish you. If you are so bored that this kind of chaos is inevitable, then I will provide you gainful employment."
The psuedo-twins glanced at one another. "Go on," Eden said evenly.
"You may use your extensive knowledge of all the castle's secrets - if you report to me any behaviour requiring reward, or student requiring support; anything of concern or worthy of merit that we staff are missing. Our students do not trust us as the war generation had to, and you are the best way to remedy that. In return, your pranks will go unpunished all the time they are harmless and minimally disruptive - with the exception of exam season."
Another silent conversation happened before her. Roxanne's face split into a smile. "That's one hell of a deal," she proclaimed.
Minerva held out her hand for a handshake. Instead, the pair pounced - just as the fire flared green.
Identical fathers, previous banes of her life and the mentors of the current biggest stressors, stepped shoulder-to-shoulder out of the grate. "Minnie," Fred greeted cheerfully.
"Freddie, look! Hug attack!" George cried, and Minerva closed her eyes in resignation, nostrils flaring with irritation, as the adults joined in, and she found herself cocooned in Wesaleys, elbows and knees digging into her.