When the three of them slipped over to the fireplace, Mrs Weasley—Molly—was in the kitchen, humming as she bustled about.
The wireless was playing a Celestina Warbeck song; the twins were bobbing their heads in time with the music.
"Great Green, do you know what song this is?"
Fred put on a face that clearly meant, Ask me and I'll explain everything.
"Oh no, we'd better get moving—it's about to hit the high notes!"
George said in a panic.
"Too late—George, put the earplugs on him."
Fred jammed a pair of earplugs onto George, then, before Sean could react, stuffed another set over Sean's ears.
Sean looked toward the kitchen, baffled.
Mrs Weasley tilted her head slightly, as though gathering strength. A tap of her wand, and potatoes peeled themselves and leapt into the water basin; carrots lined up and hopped onto the chopping board, neatly cutting themselves into even chunks. The stewpot on the stove was bubbling; beef rolled in the rich broth, sending out waves of savoury aroma.
"Oh, my poor heart, where has it gone? It left me, snatched away by magic… and now you've torn it to shreds, give me back my heart—!"
Sean heard nothing—whatever charm was on the earplugs was very thorough—but he saw the glasses on the shelf rattle.
"There are always a few days like this every month…"
Fred shrugged, earplugs firmly in place.
"And it's probably because Dad insists on saying Mum sings beautifully even when his ears are bleeding…"
George had already stepped into the fireplace.
There was a shabby but clean old sofa sitting a short distance in front of the hearth; Sean stood on the far side of it.
"Diagon Alley!"
He watched George vanish in a swirl of green flame.
"If Mum's male idol is Gilderoy Lockhart, then her female idol is Celestina Warbeck. She's loved her songs since she was young—and she's been listening for decades," Fred chattered as he stepped aside and gestured toward the hearth.
"Great Green, time to go—just keep your voice down."
This was Sean's first time travelling by a normal fireplace; the portable one used at the alchemy conference hardly counted.
He paused for a second, making sure the name Diagon Alley was clear in his mind—he absolutely did not want to end up in Knockturn Alley.
That place was crawling with Dark wizards; for a first-year, that was… less than ideal.
"Diagon Alley."
Sean took a pinch of Floo powder from the pot, stepped into the flames, and disappeared.
When he stepped out, the alleyway shops were already lit, lanterns glowing under the eaves.
"Come on!"
George said, practically vibrating with excitement.
"Showing up here as shop owners beats coming as customers any day!"
"I don't think anyone would deny that,"
Fred agreed, clambering out of the green flames.
Weasley & Green's Magical Joke Shop was fully renovated now. Above the door, a painted jester was constantly tipping his hat; each time he did, a white rabbit sprang out of it.
The usual crush of people was gone—the queueing hours were long over—but every now and then a young witch or wizard would wander up, look at the closed door and ask an adult, sounding disappointed:
"Hasn't it opened yet?"
So the three slipped in through the back.
"Twenty Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder ready, George?"
Fred called.
"Of course—and thirty Ton-Tongue Toffees?"
George replied, ticking items off in his head.
"All stocked—"
"And—sixteen reindeer biscuits, twenty-three squirrel biscuits, one hundred and thirty-six lynx biscuits, and three hundred sets of Oddball Wizard Chess?"
A voice floated out of the unlit shop.
Sean turned slowly. Perched above him, with monumental dark circles under her eyes, was Manager Gert.
"We're short that much?!"
Fred yelped.
Gert flicked on the lamps. The window display the twins had arranged bloomed to life like a fireworks show, immediately drawing several glued-to-the-glass onlookers outside.
"Mr Green, if you don't replenish before opening, I'm afraid I'll have no choice but to resign. You do know what mad witches and wizards are capable of—especially in a place where everyone can cast spells freely."
Miss Gert said in a tone that carried deep, weary grievance.
"I'll handle it,"
Fred said solemnly.
"And me,"
George added, just as serious for once.
"Oh—oh?"
Gert brightened, rubbing at her bruised-looking eyes as she settled down beside a row of violently pink products, ready to enjoy the show.
A pity she didn't have any popcorn, she thought.
The next scene nearly made her jaws drop.
"Make some, Great Green!"
Fred wailed, not even pretending to be dignified, practically howling in Sean's ear.
"Oh Great Green—!"
George squeezed his eyes like he was trying to wring out tears, though none appeared.
Sean was long used to the twins' theatrics.
He pried Fred off his leg with some effort, then reached into the Niffler-style, extension-charmed pouch Professor McGonagall had given him and pulled out several tins of biscuits.
Shrunk-down boxes of Oddball Wizard Chess followed.
"You two are always like this?"
Miss Gert asked faintly.
…
By the time they got back to the Burrow, Fred and George were still buzzing over their business plans.
"Rent on a shop in Diagon Alley is seven hundred Galleons, and in half a year we've made enough to pay rent on more than ten shops—and that's before we officially open… do you know what that means?"
Fred yelled, clambering out of the fireplace.
Sean glanced over his shoulder—Molly Weasley stood behind them, practically steaming with fury.
"Shhh—"
George hissed.
"What? What did you say, George? It clearly means we'll be able to open shops all over Britain—Mum!"
Fred froze and turned around, switching to what he clearly thought was a light, charming tone.
"Evening, Mum."
"Do you have any idea how worried I was?"
Molly's voice was low and dangerous enough to make the walls shiver.
"Sorry, Mum, but we had to—"
Both of her sons were taller than she was, but when Molly Weasley lost her temper, they shrank like first-years.
"Empty room! Not a note! And you vanished… with this poor child in tow… I was frantic… did that ever occur to you?
All my life, never—wait till your father comes home and sees what you've done! Bill, Charlie and Percy never pulled anything like this…"
"Model Percy,"
Fred muttered under his breath.
Molly stepped forward and tugged Sean gently away from the fireplace.
"You poor dear. Fred and George have never been reliable when it comes to anything, don't you listen to them next time."
"Oh, Mum, we should tell you a tragic truth—if anyone is listening to anyone, there's only one voice it'll be—Great Green's—"
Fred started to bow dramatically.
"And you still dare try to blame our little Sean for this?!"
Molly roared.
~~~
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