The Second Try

Chizupfle! How am I going to get to talk to him – alone! Dylan wasn't sure exactly which of the twins had offered to help her get even with the Toad... But he had offered, didn't he? She decided that the best thing to do was to simply get one or the other of the twins alone to talk to him. She had a fifty-fifty chance of choosing the right one after all. She supposed that if she were to pick one of them to talk to, it would be George. In class he always seemed the nicer of the two, but she still couldn't really tell them apart. She tried all that week to catch one of the Weasley twins off by himself, without any success. They never separate; he's NEVER alone! And I just don't have the nerve to face them both. Shite! Dylan decided it was time to act. But how?

~o0o~

Dylan sat at the end of the aisle, working on her Potions essay. She was comparing the various reactions of sulphur with various plant saps in potions. It was a tedious essay, and she had a pile of books all lying open on the shelf where she was copying down information that she would use for her essay.

Dylan found that solitude, deep in the library was calming and more conducive to studying than the tables where everyone liked to congregate and talk. She was making footnotes to the books she'd copied to reference her quotes when Fred and George walked into the aisle just on the other side of the bookshelf where she was working. She watched them, hoping that they would separate and possibly look for different books.

She could see the Weasley twins quite clearly through the various gaps and spaces, which had been created by the differences of heights and widths of the books in front of her. She held her breath as one of them reached for several tomes on the shelf between them, exhaling slowly when he turned back to his brother. He leaned against the shelf as he flipped through the pages of the thick book.

"I know I saw it in here, Fred... 'Chinese and Italian explosives and fireworks.' Of course it's all fundamental stuff," George said. "I ran across it when Snape set the essay for us to write when I made my potion explode in class. I had to look up which elements shouldn't be mixed together with crystallized iodine. Anyway, I know it's here."

Dylan snuck a peek between the gaps of in the books on the shelf. It was just long enough to see Fred look around while George pulled a few more books down off the shelf from his side.

Dylan was curious by nature and usually impressed by the Weasley twins. Sure they have a nonchalant attitude towards classes, show little or no respect for the teachers, and break every rule in school. But they manage to pull some pretty amazing stuff around the castle and grounds. It's hard to not be impressed. Especially when they do so well in class! They are able to do almost all of the spells the professors give us to learn, when they hardly ever seem to study. However, Dylan saw them in the library frequently... It just wasn't usually doing their homework. They always seemed to be scheming something up instead.

Madam Pince passed by the end of her aisle, and when Dylan turned her head, she nodded briefly then continued on. Her footsteps stopped at the end of the aisle where Fred and George were. Dylan knew that Madam Pince always took extra care to see exactly which books they seemed interested in. Peeking at him through the books, she smiled. Fred appeared to look bored, as if he'd rather be out flying on his broom. "Now what are you two doing in this section again?" asked Madam Pince, in her prudish manner, suspiciously.

"Finishing my essay for Potions, Madam Pince," one of the twins said with a sigh. "It wasn't long enough for Professor Snape."

Dylan could practically hear Madam Pince sneer at them. "And you! What are you doing?" she snapped.

"Helping my brother, Madam Pince," the other replied, as if equally put out.

"Otherwise, I won't be able to fly this week in Quidditch practice," the first one said, then sighed dramatically, as if the world would end if that happened. Madam Pince shook her head and walked on.

An hour later, Dylan had noticed that they had amassed quite a pile of books. She assumed they were on Chinese and Italian fireworks and maybe a few on Greek fire. Fred and George had always fascinated her, and whenever they were in the library she would eavesdrop on them. So as usual she listened intently as they read the pages of the books quietly to each other. The twin she could see standing in profile to her looked up as Madam Pince passed by again, keeping a sharp eye on the twins. "Oh, bugger!" he said, annoyed. "It's like she doesn't trust us!"

"Well, she does fancy Filch, doesn't she? And we know he's always in our business!" the other replied with a grin. "Course, if we do manage to make spectacular fireworks..."

Fireworks! Dylan looked up startled. They are really going to make fireworks! She remembered them talking about explosives in the forest. Oh, my goodness... I bet they do! Oooh, I bet that they will be fantastic!

"Well blimey, it's not like we're going to burn down the school!" he whispered loudly as Madam Pince passed yet again.

"Of course, that is just what it might seem like to Filch!" the first one answered back, grinning. Dylan noticed that they magically copied the text passages that interested them, carefully concealing them in their Potions notes and on sheets of parchment tucked carefully hidden between pages of their Defense Against the Dark Arts book.

Well, I know what they will be reading in class, she thought amusedly. She looked down at the books she was researching. That's not a bad idea! I can copy all this down and put it in my book too. Then read it at leisure in Defense Against the Dark Arts – and with permission too. Besides, it would be far more interesting than reading Defensive Magical Theory, by Wilbert Slinkhard... yet again. She copied the pages she wanted from Bramennen's Magical Herbs and Botanicals to tuck into her book later.

"You two! Why don't you take your books to the tables?" Madam Pince called down the aisle between the tall bookshelves. Both Fred and George nodded to her and gathered the last few books they had collected. As they tried to pass her, Madam Pince held up her hand and casually looked over the covers of the books. "What are these?" she asked suspiciously.

"Alchemists, who were experimenting with sulphurous mixtures in an attempt to create an elixir of life," the twin closest to the librarian said as she looked at the titles of the books in his arms. "Certain poisonous and dangerous compounds that should never be mixed are in these three. It's for my essay," he said, trying to be charming.

No doubt, hoping that she will miss the books on the chemistry of fireworks, describing what chemistry is involved in actually making fireworks... Dylan thought, amused as she finished her copies of Schramel's The History and Magical Uses of Herbs, Tildon Toots' The Medicinal Herb Garden and Hallet's Magical Aquatic Plants and Their Uses, using the copying spell.

"And you, what do you have there?" Madam Pince snapped at the other one, literally turning on him.

"I thought that I'd read a bit on Greek warfare, you know, some bedtime reading," he said with a casual air. Dylan watched as for a brief minute, the stern librarian looked him directly in the eye with a scowl across her thin face. "My friend, Lee Jordan, said that this was really good. I thought I'd give it a go." Madam Pince stared at him hard a while, then nodded and walked back to her desk.

"I can't believe she bought that!" the other twin exclaimed, shocked.

His brother shrugged. "I heard Lee say the same thing last month when he checked out two of these books," he said, "and she didn't give him half the scrutiny she gave us!"

"Funny how Lee likes reading up on Muggle warfare as bedtime stories. Explains a lot, doesn't it?" his brother asked, laughing as they walked away.

Dylan could have kicked herself for being so timid and shy. She could have just asked them; they were right there! But, as usual, she lost her nerve at the thought of talking to both of them. Well, after next weekend I'll have an excuse to talk to them.

~o0o~

Valentine's Day in Hogsmeade had been so much fun. Her parents were waiting at the station when Dylan showed up with her friends, Mary Ellen and Jeanine, in tow. Her dad was delighted to see Mary Ellen again and to meet Jeanine. As usual, her dad had brought her spell books, ones he found while browsing with her mum in Flourish and Blotts before coming on the train. He also had a rose for her and one for Mary Ellen too. He flushed, momentarily embarrassed, realizing he hadn't one for Jeanine, until Mum slyly transfigured one for him, which he gave to Jeanine with a smile.

He strutted like a peacock as he followed all four 'girls' around. In Gladrags, her dad bought new robes for his 'girls' and one for Mary Ellen, since her family wouldn't have been able to afford it; and in Scrivenshaft's, he insisted on buying Dylan and her two friends new quills and parchment tablets. Dad was so cute. He bought Mum handfuls of her favorite sweets at Honeydukes, and he insisted that Mary Ellen and Jeanine join the family for lunch at Madam Puddifoot's, just so he could listen to us talk about school. Dad even asked for 'their' table – the one where he had finally plucked up the courage to kiss Mum's cheek on their seventh date.

When Dad gave me the large bag of containers with the elements I asked for, he didn't even ask what they were for – he just said to be careful. Mum, of course, was curious, but completely accepted that it was something N.E.W.T. level and laid off... although, I don't think she believed me. Dylan hated that she felt compelled to lie about why she needed the elements, but she really didn't know what the stuff was for either... in the end, it was more a lie of omission than an outright falsehood. Still, it irked her.

However, it's not like Mum hasn't been angry about the use of the blood-oath quill for writing lines – she's been quite outraged about it. Dylan rubbed the back of her hand, remembering the look her mum gave her after seeing the proof. But the Ministry is backing Umbridge completely! When she looked at the back of my hand, Mum was seething; I could see it in her eyes.

So now that she had the stuff, she had to figure out how to get the stuff to Fred, or preferably, George. The big question was how. She also wanted to find out how they had managed to slip a handful of glumbumble's into the fancy chrome quill cup on Umbridge's desk without leaving their seats! I know they did it – even if I didn't actually see them do it. I know that it was them. The disgusting furry parasites had infected every one of Umbridge's quills. It was bloody brilliant! If only he could show me that – I'd give him all this stuff... for free! Dylan practiced her aim with a wad of tied string, about the size of the tadlowogs, shooting it into a glass across her dorm room. No matter what the distance, her aim was dead on, but still distinguishable. Augh... How did they do it?

~o0o~

By now, the tadlowogs in her tank were sprouting their tentacle fingers, and in a week they would look like miniature grindylows, complete with a full set of long spindly fingers and tiny, razor sharp teeth! The eggs had begun hatching, and her two other jars held about fifteen new ones already. She wanted to have them – one at a time – show up in the Toad's food. Well, in her drink. But, 'how' is the problem. To get the object into a glass, she needed to arch the object, which meant that it would be seen. Bugger... bugger.

She glanced at the containers of camouflaged ingredients she had in her trunk. She laughed quietly. Getting them past Filch had been too easy. The oxygen, hydrogen and nitrogen canisters Dad gave me had been magically concealed to look like hairspray, styling spray and sculpting spray – in economy size containers. Sulphur and nitrate were in jars labeled as bath salts, while bicarbonate and calcium were disguised as body wash and bath gel. Phosphorous was disguised as talc powder and the brackish and salt-water were made to look like large economy size bottles of shampoo and conditioner. It had taken Mary Ellen and me hours, but it worked! The fog and steam her mum brought her swirled in their large plastic bottles marked 'finishing rinse' and 'leave in deep end treatment' but were as light as air! Filch just picked up one bottle of shampoo and mauled through the rest and let me and Mary Ellen go. It was priceless! Dylan rolled the two tubs of quagmire marked as 'facial mask' in her hands. Now, how to get George alone to get these to him?

Dylan paced the room and flopped back onto her bed. She leaned against her headboard, tossing one of the jars of quagmire 'facial mask' in her hands and looked over at the canisters of nitrogen her mum magically sealed so it would not leak, but still allowed the release of the built up pressure. Mum's so good – it's scary. If I could just...

"Dylan! Either go for a run or turn out the lights, will you. It's late!" Mary Ellen grumbled, and then rolled over.

That's it! Oh, Mary Ellen, you're brilliant! "Sorry," she whispered and turned out the light. Dylan stuffed a nitrogen and calcium container in one pocket of her dressing gown and one bottle of brackish and fog in the other. I can't roam the corridors this late; they are being patrolled, unless it's late enough? No, it would be best if I did this on all fours...

She slipped from the room, quiet as a cat, and stood on the landing outside her dorm room door. She closed her eyes, and concentrated on finding, and then holding her center, letting the rush fill her whole being, and then mumbled the incantation as she melded into the form of a lynx. She had no way to tell if she got it right, but it feels fine. She let the lynx form guide her movements as she ran down the stairs and out through the portrait that concealed the open doorway of her house. Right then, Gryffindor tower... is... this way...

Her eyes quickly adjusted to the dim light, and the fur around the pads of her feet silenced her footfalls. Her keen sense of hearing alerted her twice: once when Snape prowled by in the corridor, and way before Filch passed by her as he strolled down a connecting corridor. Finally she sat in front of the portrait she'd heard so much about in of her fifth year when Sirius Black tried to kill Harry Potter. Getting in the first time had been easy – the prefect was returning to the tower just as I got here. No such luck tonight.

The woman in the portrait was asleep. Dylan jumped up, placing both paws on the canvas, careful to keep her claws retracted. The Fat Lady woke with a start. "W-who's d-dare," she yawned. She looked down and saw the lynx. "Oh, oh no... shoo! Get down now... shoo!"

In the dark she must mistake my form as a very large cat or a kneazle. Most people do, Dylan thought amused. Now if I can just convince her she should open and let me in...

"Shoo, shoo, go away," the Fat Lady protested. Dylan stretched her legs, her claws extended just enough to show them but not scratch the very old and delicate canvas. "No, please! No – no, shoo – go away!" Dylan landed on all fours gracefully and rubbed against the frame. She tried to purr, stopping only to stretch before her, fully extending her claws. "Oh, my goodness!" the lady exclaimed. Dylan made several more passes, rubbing herself along the frame, and then set her front paw on the elegant old frame, her nails barely clicking on the hard wood. "Don't do that! Oh, please. Fine then, go on," the portrait said, opening for her.

No wonder that murderer, Sirius Black, could get in. That was downright easy! Dylan strolled cautiously into the room, easing around the furniture, listening. Silence... that's good. The common room was empty. She walked to the middle of the room, looking around. Yes, I remember that tapestry, the boys are up here... She knew which room, the one on the second landing, and easily loped up the stairs.

The room was dark and silent. So they must all be asleep. I'll have to wake him – and not get hexed doing so. I can't let him scream or shout out... think, Dylan – wake him up – but don't let him yell out. You're going to have to be brazen and hope he's too shocked to yell or cast a spell on you.

She stopped at the foot of the bed where she remembered seeing one of the twins during her first time in this room – just before he made the tree explode into fire and smoke. Cautiously she slipped between the bed hangings and sniffed the blankets. Yes, this is one of them – the same one that was near me in the forest – but which? Fred or George? I still don't know how to tell them apart... Dylan carefully placed her paws on his bed and lifted up to peek at him. He's on his back... good... I don't see a wand... Oh, there, on the bedside table – within reach... not good. She stood frozen, considering. Pin his hips and hands... You can do this. I hope he's the one that offered to help.

He bolted awake, as a seventeen plus kilo cat pounced on his bed, effectively straddling his legs and pinning his hips with its front paws. Within seconds the cat blurred as it stretched into a girl, who leaned in and kissed him, claiming his mouth with hers, firmly pushing him back onto his elbows with firm, soft lips. Releasing his lips slowly, she whispered, "Shhh," barely stroking his lips with hers to silence him. Then she stopped, pulling back just enough to look at him briefly before leaning in to whisper in his ear. "Are you going to be quiet?" she asked, the edge of the cat still in her voice.

He nodded, stunned. She pulled back again, watching him, keeping him pinned, her hands now pressing down on his wrists, and her legs straddling his as she regarded him on all fours. His look was quickly changing from fear, to question, to acceptance, to... Oh, no, we are not going there... She laughed as she shifted her weight back to sit down. He barely had time to open his legs before her bottom landed in the space below his knees, rather than on his shins, and her feet slid up to rest on either side of his hips. Now he looks confused again... poor baby. "So, did you mean what you said in detention?" she asked, her voice still thick with the timbre of her cat form. Dragons – did I forget to change my throat? McGonagall will never pass me if I can't get ALL the parts right!

He was staring at her, dumbstruck. "In detention? All right, sure. Yeah." He was examining her, from her red lace-edged tank top, to her brother's paisley pajama bottoms, and her silky baby blue dressing gown, as his hands found her warm bare feet.

His expression was not what she – okay it is what I expected, but he doesn't know what I meant. "You made me an offer – so here I am to take you up on it."

His eyes became wide, and his mouth dropped open, and then closed again in a huge grin. "Um – sure, if you like, ah – now?" His hand slid up her leg under her pajama pants.

She laughed silently, brought her hand to her mouth, biting tenderly on her fingernail, shaking her head. "Ah... No... don't you remember? You made me a promise?"

He looked stunned and shook his head. "No... I am sure I'd remember..."

Oh, good Goddess! Did she have the wrong twin? He smelled right, but I'm not sure if they smell different... "Slow down. Aren't you George?"

"No, I'm Fred. Course, we can take care of what ever promise my brother made, or we can wake him." He was watching her intently in eager anticipation. "If you decide to wake him, I'm going to watch."

His new look threw her for a loop. How can a guy smirk, challenge, dare, and be mischievous and lustful at the same time... ah, wait he's a guy – duh! It was her turn to stare at him with her mouth open, then she bit her lip, her hands clenched then relaxed, rolling open and closed as she did when agitated or confused in her lynx form. Not sure how to get out of this one... or what to do next. He expects – of course he expects...

"Relax, will you? I'm not going to pounce on you. Of course, you did just pounce on me," Fred said, smirking.

He has a point. "I didn't want you to yell out and wake everyone up... or hit me with a curse or hex – or anything... So, you're not the one who was sitting next to me in detention?"

He laughed. "No. I was the one throwing up in the bucket."

Dylan nibbled on her fingertip, trying to remember. "I thought Umbridge – ah... She called you George – or did she mean the other one?" She could feel her face fall in disappointment. "Oh, then you didn't..." I got the wrong twin...

"Hey! Whatever it is my brother promised, I'll be more than happy to oblige."

Got to give him credit, he is earnest. "Do you promise?" she asked, hopeful he would agree. Well, one twin was as good as the other I suppose. I – well, they both are still the best at pranks, trouble making and mayhem...

"Sure," he said, leaning closer to her, "Whatever my brother promised you, I can handle just fine." His hands slid up her legs suggestively.

Boys! One track minds – all of them. At least he said he'd do it... "I got you... well, both of you, these..." She reached into her left pocket and pulled out the two canisters, tossing them between them, and then fished the two from the other pocket. "Since you promised to help me, you can consider them payment."

He moved quickly, grabbing the bottles before they hit something sensitive. "This says shampoo?" he asked, reading the label. "What? You think I need to wash my hair? I bathe at least once a week – twice if I get dirty."

"No, I like your hair," she replied, blushing. Must be careful where I drop these. I almost... well... I'm glad he has quick hands!

"You are giving me body wash?" he asked, picking up and reading the next container. "Maybe you'd like to do this in the bath? What do you say? Here or in the bath?" he asked with a suggestive grin, then picked up another and looked at the label that read hairspray. "Are you suggesting that you want to change my hair style?"

Dylan had to control her laugh, but she could feel her cheeks get hot. There is no way you are this thick! "Nitrogen," she replied. "Don't open it, it'll freeze off your skin!" she exclaimed before he twisted the canister top.

He examined the container, considering her remarks. He set it down carefully and picked up the third container. He rolled it, watching the opaque whitish-grey mist swirl inside. "And the leave in conditioner – deep end treatment?"

"I think that one is the fog." She handed him the list she had picked up that day he – or it could have been George, had dropped it in the library. Gees! I'm dim as a gnome when it comes to these two. How can anyone tell them apart? "I believe this is yours. I highlighted what I was able to get – what I have is in yellow, and I made notations as to what I labeled them."

He read the list and then looked up at her, gobsmacked. "You're telling me you have all this?" he asked, stunned.

"Keep your voice down. I don't really want to wake everyone," she purred, not meaning to, "and yes. I have all of the ones in yellow, in the amounts listed on that sheet."

Suddenly he looked suspicious. "How much?"

Fair question. "You just said that whatever it was your brother promised to do, you'd be more than happy to oblige. Do you mean that?" She bit her lip, worried he would say no. Please say yes, please don't back out... I need you...

"I suppose that what my brother promised you wasn't a shag?" Her eyes widened in shock, and he smiled. "Damn. Okay then, what did my brother, whom I'm going to strangle – then straighten out his priorities in a few minutes – promise you?"

All right then. He will help – he will actually help me! She looked at his hands, then back to his face. "He said he would help me... get even with the Toad." Fred shook his head; obviously he didn't understand her. "Umbridge. He said he'd help me get even with Umbridge." Please say yes, please don't renege, please...

"What did you have in mind?"

That's not a no... "How good are you at sneaking things into people's drinks?" His look was suddenly totally incredulous. "What I mean is, I have these tadlowogs, you know, baby grindylows, that are just maturing, and fifteen or so that are just hatching... and I was thinking that she should have them in her drinking glass – a few times. I just can't figure out how to get them in her glass – without her seeing..." He is laughing... Why is he laughing? It sounded good to Mary Ellen. She thought it was brilliant – if I could pull it off...

"Interesting..." He moved suddenly, jerking his feet out from under hers, and she fell back, splayed out on his bed. For a moment she thought that he was going to pounce on her, but instead he jumped out of bed and stepped over to the four-poster bed next to his, yanking open the drapes. "Oi, George, wake up."

Author's Note: