"So moving—truly moving! We've wronged Professor Snape. We must make it up to him,"
George and Fred wailed as they clung to each other, howling theatrically.
"I can already smell the ginger. Your acting is awful—you're even using props to fake the tears."
Loren stared at them, deadpan, and punctured the performance without mercy.
Their skills were a long way from Oscar material—better than a pop idol's, maybe, but still. They'd improve with age. Seeing they'd been exposed, the twins dropped the act, sat up, and started tidying the space, grumbling at each other as they worked.
Only when they'd finished did Loren sober. "Got any ideas for a transformation draught? Let's hear them."
When it came to plotting mischief, the twins could be surprisingly reliable. They fell into thought at once. After a short pause, George spoke first.
"I saw notes in an old alchemical journal from the family. Fred and I tried to develop prank gear that could change a person's form—but we haven't cracked it."
Loren straightened, listening carefully. Part of the reason he'd sought them out was exactly this—his memory of their later inventions.
He remembered a toffee of theirs that briefly turned the eater into a canary, though it didn't last long.
Picking up the thread, Fred added, "What we brewed was unstable. Also, it only changes people into animals. No gender change."
"That's fine. Honestly, I wanted you two as extra hands. But it turns out you've got something real to contribute."
"Oh! Thank you, mighty Lion King," George said in a comically lofty tone, handing over a packet of samples and neatly copied notes they'd prepared in advance.
The twins weren't miffed by Loren's high bar for potioncraft. If anything, they were proud. When they'd traded him the Marauder's Map, Loren had rewarded them with two bottles of his "nutrient elixir."
They were born into a wizarding family—poor in coin, but rich in hand-me-down knowledge. They knew potions, if not like masters, then at least by reputation. Loren's brew matched none of them.
First, the taste. Most potions ranged from foul to barely tolerable. Loren's was, well, delicious.
Second—and decisive—was effect. To test it, they'd avoided exertion and heavy spellcasting. For three whole days they ate nothing, drank only water, and felt better than before. That told them this was a genuinely new potion. Combine that with Loren's stunts in Snape's class—stunts that somehow didn't cost him points—and his skill in brewing was undeniable.
Between that respect and the way his temperament clicked with theirs, the twins were all-in. Frankly, no one else at Hogwarts got this kind of good-natured "protocol" from them.
Loren took their packet but didn't dive in yet. He laid out his own approach first.
"I started from Polyjuice. It can directly alter a person's appearance; the hitch is it needs someone else's hair. I tweaked it so the drinker can will their features to change—no hair required—but it isn't coercive."
He produced three vials of his modified Polyjuice and a stack of notes from his robe and passed them over—clear proof this was a genuine exchange, not an attempt to poach their family secrets.
The twins fumbled the vials, stunned. A potion that mimicked a Metamorphmagus? If such a thing spread, it would send shockwaves through the wizarding world.
They exchanged a glance and immediately started reading. Seeing they accepted the trade, Loren finally turned to their materials.
He'd expected something rough—and was pleasantly surprised. Their dossier contained ancestral Weasley research notes on Animagus transformation, along with a trove of clever ideas that made Loren's eyes light up. He felt the itch to dissect a living Animagus—scientifically, of course. There was a handy specimen on campus: Peter Pettigrew, currently Ron's rat.
He'd used his magical sight on Pettigrew in rodent form, and he'd studied Professor McGonagall in human form, but he hadn't seen the secret of the shift itself. Since the day he'd—ill-advisedly—petted her cat form, she hadn't displayed her Animagus at Hogwarts again. As for Pettigrew, Loren didn't yet know the counter to force a reveal. He'd need a plan.
While he was plotting how to corner Pettigrew, the twins had skimmed Loren's notes and were nodding, impressed. In their eyes, even Snape might not match Loren in inventing new brews.
They didn't interrupt him; instead they withdrew to whisper furiously. Loren listened in silence, gleaning sparks of inspiration from their back-and-forth.
Then both stomachs rumbled.
They clutched their middles and stared pitifully at Loren. They knew he had pull with the kitchens and could have food sent up. They didn't want to trek all the way to the Great Hall when they were finally on a roll.
Loren understood. He snapped his fingers. "Dinky."
With a pop, a house-elf appeared, bowed low to Loren, and stood awaiting orders.
"Lunch for three. Here, please."
Another bow, another pop, and moments later a small table appeared in the Room of Requirement. Dishes began arriving in a steady stream.
"Thank you, mighty Lion King!"
After a chorus of gratitude, they tucked in. When they'd finished, the elf cleared the remains and tidied the room, and the twins went straight back to Loren's notes.
Loren let them work and sank into his own thoughts. The Weasley materials were inspiring, but they didn't solve the core problem: forcing a gender change for Harry.
He couldn't conjure a Jusenkyo of Cursed Springs out of thin air. Perhaps he should simply persuade Harry to drink a potion and choose to become a girl himself.
That, Loren decided, might actually work. He began rehearsing his pitch in his head.
"Fred, I'm out of ideas," George muttered at last, eyes bloodshot from reading. "Let's just transfigure Harry. Make him a girl with a spell."
"Brilliant—except we're not allowed to transfigure students," Fred said, still scanning the page. "And our Transfiguration can't change someone's sex."
"Right," Loren cut in. "So… we make an enchanted object that does it for us. A transfiguration tool. Harry puts it on, and—Harriet."
Both twins looked up at once. Loren was already hauling components from his robe, intent on the work ahead.
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