Chapter 12. Poor Ron
"Duncan?
You two aren't lying to me, are you?"
Before Mrs Weasley even arrived, her loud, ringing voice carried clearly to Duncan's ears.
Fred shrugged, turned his head to look at Duncan, and curled his mouth helplessly.
"Right now, no matter what we say, Mum will choose to doubt us first.
Our days in this house are getting harder and harder."
Duncan snorted.
"Isn't that your own doing?
Who told you to keep deceiving Mrs Weasley?"
"We never deceived her!" George retorted.
"We just applied a tiny bit of verbal artistry and rephrased what we did, but we didn't expect Mum to miss our meaning and misunderstand on her own."
Duncan raised an eyebrow.
"Like when you used to say that, in the contest for the House Cup, the contribution you made was the greatest among Gryffindor students—
and the result was that, because the two of you lost the most points, Gryffindor lost?"
"Heh-heh."
Fred and George bumped Duncan's shoulder from either side.
"As expected of our good mate!"
"What's this about Gryffindor losing?"
The door opened and a short, plump figure squeezed in from outside.
Hands on hips, she stood in the doorway, blocking most of the sunlight that fell into the room, her otherwise impassive face shrouded in a patch of dimness.
Fred and George fell silent at once, as if the person standing before them was not Mrs Weasley but a fire-breathing dragon about to erupt.
"Nothing, Mum," Fred said, his quick brain whirring.
"We were saying Duncan ought to be in Gryffindor.
That way we won't lose the House Cup again."
"That's right," George chimed in with emphatic nods.
"At the End-of-Term Feast, watching the looks on those Slytherins' faces was really unbearable.
If they win again next term—tsk, tsk—their cheers would probably burst the roof of the Great Hall…"
"Is that so?"
Mrs Weasley glared and gave Fred and George a once-over, temporarily letting the pair off.
Her face bloomed into a warm smile as she stepped forward and pulled Duncan into her arms.
"Welcome, Duncan.
I've got a room ready for you.
Just like before, you'll share with Ron.
All right?"
"Of course," Duncan said.
"Thank you, Mrs Weasley."
"Then stay here and play with them for a bit.
I'll go and get lunch ready—Arthur should be back soon."
With that, Mrs Weasley released Duncan and strode toward the kitchen.
"'Share with Ron, all right?'
'Stay here and play with them!'"
Fred and George echoed her words one after the other in a sing-song, mocking tone, then raised loud complaints.
"Mum, you're never this gentle with us!"
"If you two could obey school rules, stop tinkering with those prank things, and let me get angry a little less often, I would be even gentler than I am now," Mrs Weasley said from the kitchen without turning her head.
"Can you do that?"
"Better not," Fred answered decisively.
"Just stay like this.
It's fine!"
At that moment Ron also came in from outside.
Head down, his face wore an exhausted look.
There was dirt from work left on his clothes.
He was carrying an old iron bucket that creaked and swayed as he walked.
A little red-haired girl followed close behind him, kicking along a fist-sized stone with great interest.
Ron greeted Duncan, tossed the bucket into a corner by the door, turned, and walked into the sitting room, tilting his head back as he prepared to flop onto the sofa for a rest.
But his backside had only just begun to descend when Mrs Weasley's head poked out from the kitchen, and she called loudly, "Ron, don't sit yet!
Fred, George, help the two of them get cleaned up."
"All right, Mum," Fred replied lazily.
He dug out his wand and pointed it at Ron, but paused just as he was about to speak the incantation.
A prankish idea popped into his mind.
"Right—what's the cleaning charm again?
George, do you remember?"
"The cleaning charm?" George froze for a beat.
When his eyes met Fred's, he understood Fred's intention.
With a wicked grin he said, "It should be—'Clea…'"
"Aguamenti!" Fred cut George off and snapped out the spell with his wand.
Ron stood there blankly, still not understanding what had happened, when a jet of clear water spurted from the tip of Fred's wand, traced a perfect arc across the sitting room, skipped over the sofa in front of Ron, and drenched him precisely, turning him into a soaked chicken.
Ron blinked and came back to himself.
His face showed anger as he raised his voice to complain to Mrs Weasley in the kitchen.
"Mum, look…"
"Fred!
George!
Are you two bullying Ron again?"
Ron hadn't even finished speaking when Mrs Weasley roared, fury shaking her voice.
The whole house seemed to tremble along with it.
Duncan rubbed his forehead, as if he could feel dust falling from the ceiling.
"We're helping Ron clean the mud off his clothes!" Fred said, perfectly self-assured.
Doesn't washing clothes require water?
They'd used the Water-Making Spell to wet Ron's clothes first—what was wrong with that?
Seeing that Ron was about to charge over and start a real duel, George hurriedly raised his wand.
"Ventus!"
A gale blasted from George's wand.
Ron's clothes flew up high, flapping with a whooshing sound.
Even the features of his face were blown out of place, twisting into an ugly expression—making it rather hard not to question George's intentions in choosing this spell.
When the wind died down, Fred rushed to speak before Ron could.
"Have a look—aren't you clean now?"
Ron looked down at the mess the wind had made of his clothes.
The stains had, in fact, been cleaned off.
"Can't you use a gentler spell?" Ron complained, dissatisfied, and sat down on the sofa.
"Sorry, it's the only one I've learned," George replied with a cheerful grin.
"Ginny, where are you going?"
Fred spotted Ginny trying to sneak off to the side.
"Come here first and let me clean your clothes."
Ginny had been tiptoeing along, wearing a face that said you can't see me, you can't see me.
At the sudden sound of Fred's voice, she not only didn't stop, she sped up and bolted for the distance.
"No need!
I'll have Mum help me—
or I'll go upstairs and change!"
"Don't be afraid."
George took a few big strides to catch up with Ginny and pinned her in place with one hand.
"We've just learned a new spell that can clean you in an instant."
"Really?"
Ginny stopped struggling, her bright brown eyes flashing with doubt.
"Of course.
We'd never play tricks on our sister," Fred said with a smile, tapping lightly at Ginny's clothes.
At his touch, her clothes gave a soft flutter and, in the blink of an eye, were spotlessly clean.
Ron stared, stiff-necked, at the scene before him, scarcely able to believe it.
A dozen seconds later, he sprang up and shouted in shame and fury, "Fred!
George!
I'm going to fight you!"
"Bad news—Ron's gone mad!
Duncan, help us hold him off!"
Fred and George shouted in exaggerated voices as they ran in circles around Duncan, using him as cover to dodge the rampaging Ron.
"Good afternoon, kids!"
Mr Weasley strode into the house with long steps, arms spread wide as he greeted everyone with warmth.
But when he took in the scene of chickens flying and dogs jumping, the smile on his face froze at once.
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