"Are you really going to sponsor us?" Fred asked, his grin slipping into genuine surprise. "You mean actual money, not some dramatic promise made in the middle of Hogsmeade?"
George looked just as startled. Their dream of opening a joke shop was still little more than a bright, stubborn idea they carried between them. They had no formal plan, no stock beyond the tricks they made or collected, and certainly no real business proposal waiting in their pockets.
"Of course," Jamie said. "Don't forget, we have the ability to see the future. Since we're optimistic about your business, investing in you now is obviously a profitable decision."
Fred and George looked at one another, suddenly unsure in a way they rarely were. They were only third years, still more used to dodging homework and prefects than planning a career. Their future joke shop had always felt possible in the way a brilliant prank felt possible—exciting, vivid, and just out of reach.
"Well, Fred," George said slowly, "what do we do now?"
"George," Fred replied with rare honesty, "I have absolutely no idea."
Tyler smiled at their sudden seriousness. "Then think about it properly after you go back. You can write a plan, decide what you want to make, how much money you need, and how you want to run the shop. You're only in third year, so you still have several years before graduation."
That made the twins breathe easier. The offer was enormous, but it did not have to become something they solved in the next five minutes. They could carry it back to Hogwarts, turn it over between them, and shape it into something real.
"That sounds better," Fred said, nodding. "We really should go back and make a proper plan."
"Yes," George agreed, his expression unusually firm. "This is a big deal."
For once, neither of them turned the matter into a joke right away. The dream mattered too much, and the idea that someone believed in it enough to invest made it feel heavier and brighter at the same time. Then Fred's eyes drifted toward the street ahead, and the familiar spark of mischief returned.
"Since serious business planning can wait," Jamie said, "why don't you take us to Zonko's Joke Shop? We're not familiar with all the prank products there, and you two are the experts in that field."
Fred's grin returned in full. "Naturally. When it comes to mischief, we are trained professionals."
"Highly qualified," George added. "Possibly the greatest specialists Hogwarts has ever produced."
"Lead the way, then," Tyler said. "Let's see whether Zonko's lives up to its reputation."
The twins set off at once, their earlier solemnity vanishing as if someone had opened a window and let it fly away. Funding, plans, and future shops could wait. For the moment, there was a joke shop nearby, and that was more than enough to reclaim their attention.
While Fred and George led Tyler and Jamie toward Zonko's, several Hogwarts professors arrived in Hogsmeade with far less cheerful purpose. The cracks of Apparition were swallowed quickly by the noise of the village, but Professor McGonagall's expression was sharp enough to cut through any crowd. She stood at the edge of the High Street, taking in the sight of students wandering in groups as though they were on a perfectly ordinary Hogsmeade weekend.
"They really are here," Professor McGonagall said, her mouth tightening.
Students filled the street in clusters, laughing outside shop windows, carrying sweet bags, and arguing over where to go next. Some were older students who should have known better, while others were first years whose robes still looked too new and whose faces gave away their excitement. The whole scene made McGonagall's brows draw together in a dangerous line.
"Minerva, we should gather them quickly," Professor Sprout said. Her kind face was troubled, and her eyes kept moving across the younger students with open concern. "The longer they remain scattered through the village, the harder it will be to keep them safe."
"Yes," McGonagall agreed. "Severus, Pomona, we'll split up and bring them in from every shop. Have them assemble in front of the Three Broomsticks."
Snape did not bother with a verbal reply. He simply gave a curt nod, his black robes shifting around him like shadows, then turned toward the row of shops with the air of a man prepared to personally ruin several hundred afternoons. Professor Sprout headed the other way, already scanning the windows for students hiding with sweets or teacups.
Professor McGonagall walked to the middle of the street and raised her wand. Several sharp bursts of magical sparks cracked into the air above her, bright enough and loud enough to seize attention from one end of the village to the other. Conversations faltered, doors opened, and heads turned.
She cleared her throat and cast a Sonorus Charm over herself. Her voice expanded at once, stern and unmistakable as it rang through the street. "All Hogwarts students, including first years, are to assemble immediately in front of the Three Broomsticks."
The words carried across rooftops, down side lanes, and through open shop doors. Professor McGonagall repeated the command three times, each one clipped, cold, and increasingly impossible to ignore. By the third announcement, every Hogwarts student in Hogsmeade knew exactly who had arrived.
"Oh no," a fourth year whispered, going pale beside the Honeydukes window. "That's Professor McGonagall."
"Merlin's beard, move," another hissed, grabbing his friend by the sleeve. "She's strict enough on normal days. I don't want to find out what she's like when we've all run off before the feast."
"The professors came too quickly," a disappointed third year complained, clutching a bag of sweets as though it might be confiscated. "We didn't even get to enjoy ourselves properly."
Complaints spread quickly, but disobedience did not. Professor McGonagall was the Deputy Headmistress, the Transfiguration professor, and one of the strictest teachers at Hogwarts. Even students brave enough to sneak into Hogsmeade were not foolish enough to pretend they had not heard her voice booming across the village.
At Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop, Professor Sprout stepped inside and immediately found several young couples frozen over tiny tables covered in lace, ribbons, and teacups. The air smelled of sugar, flowers, and awkward romance, and every student inside looked as though they wished they could sink through the floor. One girl still had her hand halfway across the table, reaching for her date's fingers.
"Oh dear," Professor Sprout said, sighing as she took in the scene. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but you'll have to continue your little dates another time. Please go outside and assemble at the Three Broomsticks at once."
"Professor Sprout!" one boy squeaked, nearly knocking over his teacup.
"Yes, yes, I know." Her voice remained gentle, but there was no room for argument beneath it. "Up you get. There is no time to linger here."
The students scrambled to their feet, cheeks flaming as they hurried for the door. Professor Sprout did not stay to embarrass them further. She had too many shops to check and too many children to gather before Minerva's temper grew even colder.
Professor Snape, meanwhile, swept through Dervish and Banges, Gladrags Wizardwear, Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop, and even the grimy entrance of the Hog's Head with the air of a funeral procession looking for victims. Wherever he entered, conversations died instantly. Students seemed to shrink before he even spoke.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Snape said in one shop, his voice silky and poisonous, "if your hearing remains functional and your ears are not stuffed with something unpleasant, then you should have heard the announcement."
The students inside stood rigid, faces pale. Even the Slytherins did not dare look too relaxed in front of him. Snape might favour his own house in class, but no Slytherin mistook that for permission to behave like an idiot under his nose.
"Yes, Professor Snape," several students muttered at once.
"Then why," Snape asked softly, "are you still standing here?"
That was enough. The students bolted for the street as though the floor had caught fire beneath their shoes. Snape watched them go with a cold curl of satisfaction, then turned and moved on to the next shop.
Under the combined efforts of the three professors, Hogwarts students were soon herded toward the open space outside the Three Broomsticks. The crowd grew thicker by the minute, a sea of black robes, coloured scarves, nervous faces, and badly hidden disappointment. Older students tried to look dignified, younger students looked guilty, and the first years mostly looked as if they had not yet decided whether this was still an adventure.
Fred, George, Tyler, and Jamie reached the edge of the gathering just as more students were being pushed in from the surrounding shops. The twins looked far too cheerful for people about to be scolded, though they had enough sense not to laugh where McGonagall could see them. Tyler slipped the folded Marauder's Map safely away while Jamie glanced over the crowd with mild interest.
"Tyler! Jamie! Here we are!"
Harry's voice rose from somewhere ahead, and a moment later he and Ron squeezed through the crowd toward them. Ron was clutching a small Quidditch pamphlet he must have picked up at Dervish and Banges, while Harry's face was bright with lingering excitement. Harry and Ron waved at Tyler and squeezed through the crowd.
.....
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