a/n: hello all. this is my harry potter baby, and i hope it turns out all right. i have to warn everyone: though harry potter is my favorite series i haven't read it in awhile--please excuse any mishaps in dates/spellings and things, and please also point them out to me so i can fix them.

not to bore everyone with a long note, but please read and review. reviews are good. like cake.

Chapter One

"What about the dung bombs? Should we take those?"

"Of course, put them in there. I think my trunk has more room."

"How are we going to fit our school books in?"

George Weasley was looking oddly at his brother, holding a teetering stack of school books under each arm, when a great banging on the Burrow's rickety old stairs made him momentarily forget his problem and his mother's voice filtered through his door. "Fred! George! Hurry up, or we'll be late!"

"Coming mum!" George yelled as Fred searched through the last of the clothing strewn around the floor of the twin's small room. "I think we got everything important," he was muttering as he stood, kicking a lone robe to the corner.

"Maybe we can have Dad ship us the books?" George was looking annoyed between the two open trunks that took up most of the floor space in their room; both were filled to the brim with pocket sneak-o-scopes, dung bombs, the last of the candy from their trip to Diagon Alley the week before, a few robes—Fred had even managed to snatch one of the old brooms Dad had lying in the shed, and it lay somewhere beneath everything, to be used on a nice sunny day.

"Just hand them here," Fred motioned impatiently as the commotion from downstairs grew louder. George watched as his brother took the worn, hand-me-down books and threw them haphazardly into one of the trunks. They stuck out horribly, and George was about to say so when Fred gingerly closed the lid as far as it would go and climbed atop his bed. With a wild leap he landed on the trunk—there was a momentous crack from inside, a few shatterings, and George could not help but wince as Fred flipped the lock and dusted off his hands.

"There, that's everything, right?"

"I think so." George noticed with dismay that that had been his trunk, and not Fred's; the latter shut easily.

"Boys, hurry up—" the door opened and Mr. Weasley appeared, shaken and harried, red hair glistening atop a sweaty face. "Charlie's loading his things to the car now." He paused here, surveyed the mess that was their room, and whispered, "Do not tell your mother," before flicking his wand in a gentle wave. The clothes bounded back to their dresser and the miscellaneous items flew to lie on top of the twin's beds.

"Thanks dad," Fred wheezed as he hauled his trunk to the landing. "Just wait, when we can use magic at home we won't need to clean anything by hand anymore." He gave his case a gigantic shove down the stairs, watching as it toppled head over heels before stopping at the bottom.

"Or push trunks downstairs." George threw his shoulder into his own heavy crate and watched it tumble after his brother's.

"You guys are making a lot of noise."

"Well, well, if it isn't little Ronnikins." Fred twirled quickly, easily placing an arm over his brother's shoulder. "Come to see us off?"

"Will you miss us?" George intoned, sidling up to Ron's other side. His freckled face seemed to pale visible at having the twins so close, and George noticed the teddy bear clutched tightly in his small hand.

"Fred, George, stop tormenting your brother!" Mrs. Weasley's shrill cry echoed up the stairs. They heard a slight, muffled gasp as she found the two trunks and the scattered furniture around them. "AND CLEAN UP THIS MESS!"

"Ron, say goodbye." Mr. Weasley came out of the twin's room, dusting his hands off.

"What? Ron's not coming to see us off?" Fred asked. "It's our first year."

"Somebody has to watch Ginny," Ron muttered darkly. Mr. Weasley moved past the small congregation and hurried downstairs.

"FRED! GEORGE!"

"Well, goodbye Ronnie," George smiled, and ruffled his brother's hair. "See you later."

"Yep," Fred mimicked the sweet tone taken on by his brother, and Ron did not like the identical look that appeared in both their eyes. He step back, sniffling, onto the stairs leading to his room, watching warily as the twins followed the path their trunks had taken earlier. George looked over his shoulder and yelled, "Have fun with your new pet!"

"It's a going away present from us!"

A muffled sort of cry could be heard as George righted his trunk and began dragging it towards the front door. Behind him Fred chuckled.

"Is Ron alright?" That was Charlie, come to give them a hand.

"Something about a spider—" Fred started, letting his brother take over his own trunk and going to help with George's.

"—don't know what happened." George finished, as the two rushed out to the car, cackling loudly.

Loud and blaring, George was reminding keenly of Percy as the whistle of the train beside them shot off another bout of noise. He peered sideways at his older brother, watching him listen intently to their mother, who had her hands on stout hips and was saying something which Percy seemed to feel was a matter of life or death; his thin, gangly face and shock of red hair nodded up and down adamantly, all ears and eyes. George wondered what could be so important that Mum would risk them being late on the train; again the whistle blew, releasing a puff of white smoke which drifted overhead lazily.

"Mum's probably telling Percy to watch us," Fred was at his shoulder, sighing, hair, a redder, more vibrant color than Percy's, bouncing up around his head. George snorted, eyes roaming their platform for their other brother.

"Is Charlie already on?" he asked, peering through throngs of last minute hugs and split-second goodbyes.

"Yep, because he was smart and said goodbye right quick. Come on, let's just go, I don't want to miss the train—" As one they began towards the nearest compartment door, inching away from their mother who, sensing the departure of her biggest worries, twirled abruptly, mid-sentence from Percy and shouted, "Fred, George, get back here this instant!"

"Well Molly," a voice spoke through the crowds and George spied his father's fading head as he approached, timing perfect, "I just saw off Charlie. He's all well and good…" He peered between Fred and George, who each had one foot on the train, and Molly, who was nearly seething, and cleared his throat. "Ah, boys," he rubbed a hand around his Muggle glasses, "you should be off now—"

The whistle blew again, and George watched Percy give Mrs. Weasley a rather awkward, self-conscious hug with a snicker, before he pushed past the twins and entered the train. Molly, eyeing the conductor, quickly motioned for the boys again and, sighing in unison, the two turned.

"Now, I want you to behave." She straightened Fred's collar and from where their arms brushed George could feel him cringe. "No funny business, like you do around home. Respect your teachers, and—"

White smoke, frothy, like a fast-drifting cloud, began to spill out of the stack in the front of the train, and with a prod from Mr. Weasley the boys left their mother sputtering and raced to the compartment doors, feeling much safer once they were inside the vehicle. They looked back out at their mother who was yelling, "For goodness sake, stay out of trouble!"

"Here, this one's empty." George watched his brother tug open a compartment door; the back of the train rumbled incoherently and he was pushed to the side as another wave of first years, new and unsure, came looking for their own cars. Gratefully he followed his brother and sat down on the worn upholstered seats. Fred kicked the door shut with his foot.

"Can't believe we're actually on our way," Fred eyed the countryside rolling past. "Do you think it'll be any fun?"

"From the way Percy talks about it you would think so." George smiled, shaking his head. "But then again, it is Perc, so his opinion doesn't matter much."

"Has it ever mattered? We're just lucky we ditched him back there. He was following us like a dog or something." Fred rubbed the glass which was fogging up with the heat of the compartment. He then turned his attention to the aisle outside the closed compartment door. "I'm hungry. Do you think that snack witch will come by soon?"

George assured his brother that the snack witch would soon be by, but it was half-heartedly. His mind was already thinking about the sorting ceremony they would have to endure later tonight. He fumbled with the edge of the hand-me-down robes Mrs. Weasley had forced them into on the car ride over, picking at a loose thread along the edge.

"George? Is something wrong?"

"No. I'm fine."

"Liar."

"I'm not—"

The door flew open and simultaneously the twins looked at the intrusion. A boy stood in the doorway, his black dreadlocks immediately noticeable. Shining eyes took in one Weasley, then the other, and George could see the newcomer working out how to address them.

"'ello, am I seeing double?" the boy smiled, invited himself in, and re-shut the compartment door. Fred sent George a look and shrugged.

"Probably. Most people seem to." Fred, bored, resumed looking back out the window as the boy sat comfortably on the seat next to George.

"I'm Lee Jordan, nice to meet you." The boy extended a dark hand, which Fred shook quickly and George followed.

"I'm George Weasley, and this here's Fred." George kicked his brother's shin lightly.

"Well twins Weasley, hope you don't mind me coming in here." He eyed the hallway dubiously as another wave of people, already sorted third years it seemed, flowed past. "Some Slytherins were in the apartment over, and I didn't want to sit with them."

"No problem." George wondered about how polite it would be to kick him out so he could continue his talk with Fred, but before he could get past perhaps reaching into his trunk and throwing a dung bomb the compartment door opened a second time and the snack witch appeared. Fred immediately perked up.

"Finally, 'm starving!"

"Anything to eat, dearies?" she coughed out. George eyed the chocolate frogs with envy.

"Two chocolate frogs, please," Fred handed over two sickles, and George smiled at his twin's apparent ability to read his mind. The boy named Lee declined anything, pulling out a smashed looking sandwich instead. To the questioning looks he responded, "My mum packed it," with a shrug.

"Mum packed some for us, too," Fred dug in his robes and pulled out a smashed roast-beef lunch. "But she gave me my brother Charlie's. I don't like roast-beef."

"She gave me yours then." George pulled out a peanut-butter, looked at it, and then tossed it at his brother.

"But what'll you eat?"

"Give me the roast-beef."

"You don't like roast-beef."

"How do you know?"

"Because I don't like it."

"Just hand it over—"

George wrestled the sandwich from his brother and shoved an entire mouthful of the thick meat in his mouth, to prove a point. Fred frowned and proceeded to devour the peanut butter now sitting on his lap.

"You two are funny," Lee laughed, smacking his lips.

"We pride ourselves on it." Fred handed George his chocolate frog and opened his own. "So what house do you think you're going to get in, Lee?"

The tight feeling returned to George's stomach.

"Don't know." Lee shrugged, fiddling with his lunch's plastic wrapping. "Hopefully not Slytherin, that's for sure." He brightened up suddenly. "But I am so trying out for the Quidditch team, whatever house I'm in!"

"Quidditch? You?" George watched the disbelief cross his brother's face.

"Yep, absolutely love the sport. Are you guys going out for it?"

"Don't know," Fred shrugged.

"Being a beater would be fun," George mused suddenly. "You know, you get to hit things…"

"…take out your anger on other people…"

"…hurt Slytherins…"

Lee snickered at the last one. "I think you two would be perfect. You should go out for a team."

George said nothing. He wondered when they were going to arrive. His stomach was tight; he couldn't even force down his chocolate frog. Instead he watched it hop around awhile before closing up the container and peering at his Newt Scamander card which had been inside.

He wondered faintly if Fred was this nervous.

"So, are you going to tell me what's wrong now?"

Lee, after chattering more about Quidditch and the newest brooms and other inconsequential things, had drifted off to sleep. The sun was just dipping beneath the horizon, and George knew that they had to be close to Hogwarts.

"Nothing's wrong." George itched his nose irritably.

"Something is. Are you going to tell me? Or am I going to write Mum and tell her that you were the one who stole Percy's wand and proceeded to do some illegal, underage magic—"

"But that was you!"

"—and wreck everything and—"

"What if we don't end up in the same house?" It came out rushed, and George was suddenly missing the general noise that had resounded throughout the train earlier. He even missed Lee's ramblings.

"Is that what you're worried about?" Fred looked honestly surprised and then he laughed, sitting up straighter. "Not to worry, mate, we're going to be in Gryffindor.

"How do you know though?" George was trying to imagine living in a dorm without his brother, and only seeing him during certain classes at which point communication would be limited. Eventually, he thought, it would only be a quick 'hello' after classes or on Sundays. When they went home for Christmas break, they would be two entirely different people.

"…George? George, are you even listening?" Fred was shaking his knee.

"What was that?"

"I said, I know because even Percy made it into Gryffindor."

He said it with such conviction that George let out a sharp bark of laughter which he quickly quieted for fear of waking Lee. "I guess that's true. If Percy can make it…"

"…then we definitely can. Besides," Fred plucked the chocolate frog that still sat on George's lap, opened it, bit off the head, and thoughtfully offered the rest to George, who declined, "it's not like some stupid school is going to split us up."

George flipped over the Newt Scamander card, watching the old man sleep peacefully as the sun drifted further away, and silently agreed.