Rating: PG
Word Count: 3383
Characters: Fred Weasley, George Weasley, Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Ginny Weasley, Albus Dumbledore, Rubeus Hagrid, Padma Patil, Neville Longbottom, Ernie Macmillan, Luna Lovegood, Nearly-Headless Nick, [Sir Anson Dubh (OC)]

The replacement wand took longer than they had anticipated. It was winter, in fact, before they had something they thought "might do". To make a stick resemble a wand -- that was one thing. To make that stick convincing enough to fool the wizard who had held it in his hand every day -- or at least, every day that he had had hands -- for over fifty years, was something else entirely.

Ollivander might have a flawless memory of the bends and bumps of the wand when it was made, but it was Harry's imperfect memory they would have to rely upon for any wear and tear or spots of discolouration it had gained since eleven-year-old Tom Riddle had laid down his money over half a century ago.

Fortunately for the twins, Harry was not hard to find; all they had to do was follow the pink strings of the Extendable Ears from the door of their laboratory up the stairs to their younger brother's room.

"Tsk, tsk! Listening at keyholes!" Fred clucked in mock dismay at the matching guilty expressions on the boys' faces. "Wherever did you pick up such a shocking bad habit, little brother?"

Harry, who was staying with the Weasley family over the Christmas holidays, had the grace to look abashed, but Ron grimaced and threw the end of the Ear at his brothers.

"We just want to know what's going on. But you never bloody say anything!"

"Well, we have something to say now," replied George. "Or ask, rather. Harry, could we have a word?"

Harry looked thoroughly startled. "Me? What do you want to talk to me about?"

"Some things are better discussed in private." The twins narrowed their eyes meaningfully at Ron. "Away from prying ears."

"Let's go for a walk," suggested Fred.

Harry cast a glowering Ron an apologetic look, and followed the twins out of the room.

"What's up?" he asked.

"Not here," insisted Fred. He plucked something off the floor, held it up to his mouth and said loudly, "Someone might be listening!"

A squeak came from the landing above, and then Ginny's face was peering over the railing.

"You bastards!" she declared. "That bloody hurt!"

"Such language!" The twins shook their head in mock disappointment. "To think our only sister has a mouth like that. A spanking might just be in order. Harry, you'll see to it later?"

Ginny's snort of disgust did not quite hide her amusement as she flounced back into her room. Harry blushed, but could not hide a smile, either.

It was a fine day for December. They left the Burrow and walked in silence for some time. As they passed through the village of Ottery St Catchpole, Harry belatedly realised they were headed for Stoatshead Hill, where they had all taken a portkey to the Quidditch World Cup over three years before.

George confirmed Harry's guess. "It's in the middle of nowhere, so we're not likely to be overheard, and we'll see anyone coming a long way off."

When they reached the top of the hill, the twins flopped down onto the dead winter grass and took out a long roll of parchment and a quill.

"Right," Fred began. "Harry, we need you to tell us everything you can about Voldemort's wand."

Harry deflated and collapsed onto the ground beside them, pulling his cloak close around him against the chill. "Oh, that," he said grimly.

"We know it's hard to think about it," said George, not unkindly. "But it's really important that we know as much as we can about the wand. How it looked. What it felt like."

They reached into their other pocket and drew out a long, thin piece of wood.

"We'll start with this," said Fred.

Harry gazed at the stick for a long moment.

"That's really good," he said at last, impressed.

The twins beamed. Harry put out a finger and touched the smooth wood.

"It's darker than this," he said softly. "Like old wood, you know? It's been handled a lot."

The twins made a note on their parchment. "Aging the wood should be a fairly simple charm. What else?"

"The buds were all gone." Harry pointed in turn to each of the four small bumps along the twig. "I guess they would wear off after a while. And the places where they were are worn smooth."

"You're sure?" asked George distractedly, busily making notes.

"It was pointed right at my face," Harry said coldly. "I'm sure."

"Sorry," mumbled George. "I didn't mean --"

Harry shook his head. "I know. It's okay."

"Anything else?"

"Just that there was a mark right about here." Harry laid a finger below the second bud. "Sort of at an angle, like someone had tried to cut it in two. It was too dark at the time to say for sure, and I only saw the wand up close for a couple of seconds, but it might have been deep enough to see the wand's core. It's phoenix feather. Like mine."

"How's this?" The twins showed him the drawing they had been working on. "Does that look right?"

Harry looked for a long moment. "Yeah," he said at last. "That's really close."

"Brilliant," said Fred. "Now, what did it feel like?"

Harry blushed.

"What's the matter?" asked George. "Can't you remember?"

"No. I mean, I can --" Harry started. "It's just -- you know how you think about things that you don't ever really talk to anyone else about, and you start to have your own words for them?"

"Sure," replied Fred. "George and I do that all the time. We have words for things and ideas that I don't think anyone else would understand."

"Right," Harry said, nodding. "Well, it's like that. When I think about different magic, and how it feels, I think of it like colours. I'm not sure if I can explain it properly, but the wand felt -- green. Bright green."

"Hmmm." The twins scratched their nose with the tip of their quill, leaving behind a smear of ink. Reaching into yet another pocket, they pulled out both of their wands, handing them to Harry. "How do these feel?"

Harry weighed the wands in his hand for a moment. "They're sort of -- a dark red. Like wine."

"What does yours feel like?" Fred asked curiously.

"Mine?" Harry seemed startled, as if he had been asked something very personal. "Mine's blue-green. But almost as dark as yours."

"I think we're going to need some more wands," said George. "We should have Harry look at as many wands as possible, and compare his 'colours' to how they feel for us. See if we can work out some sort of magical 'spectrum'."

"We'll deal with that later," replied Fred impatiently. "We've got other things to discuss now."

"Like what?" asked Harry suspiciously.

"Like whether or not Voldemort can actually be killed," Fred said.

"Oh," said Harry. "Well, I suppose he can be --"

"But the Killing Curse didn't kill him when you were a baby," George reminded him. "Why should it work now?"

"Because --" Harry bit his lip and appeared to be thinking quite hard. "Because of something he said that night. In the graveyard."

The twins looked hopeful. "What was that?"

"It was -- he said -- he was 'willing to embrace mortal life again, before chasing immortality.' So that must mean he came back mortal, right?"

The twins looked thoughtful.

"I suppose it must," Fred said at last. "Or at least, he was mortal two years ago. I guess there's no telling, now."

"Is there anything else?" Harry asked. "Your mum will want us back for lunch soon."

"There is." Fred cleared their throat. "Not about magic or Voldemort, though. About money."

"Money?" Harry asked, surprised.

The twins nodded. "You gave us your Triwizard winnings to invest in Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes," said George. "The business has really grown, and we'd like to pay you back."

"You know that's not necessary --" Harry began.

"It is," insisted Fred. "We want you to buy Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes from us."

"What?! You're selling me your business? Why? What am I going to do with a joke shop?"

"Nothing," Fred told him. "You don't have to do anything. In fact, we want you to sell it to Lee Jordan."

"Right." Harry looked nonplussed. "Now I'm really confused. You want to sell me the shop so I can sell it on why, exactly?"

The twins sighed. "We love that place, Harry," George told him. "But we need the money more, and we need it now. Lupin's already promised us some of what Sirius left the Order, but it's not enough, and Lee can't afford to buy the shop off us straight up. You can.

"We sell the shop to you for a price we can all agree upon, and you'll sell it to Lee on an installment plan. In the meantime, you'll take in twenty-five percent of the store's profits by right of ownership. Lee gets twenty-five percent for running the business, and another twenty-five to distribute among his employees. The remaining twenty-five percent still comes to us as owners of the patents on a number of items."

"Or," added Fred, "In the event that something should happen to us, it goes to Mum and Dad. By the time Lee's done paying you off, the shop will have paid for itself three times over, straight into your Gringotts account. Does that sound fair to you?"

"It does," Harry replied weakly. "Can I ask what you need the money for?"

"You may," Fred allowed with a grin.

"Well? What is it?"

"Don't you think it's about time someone armed Dumbledore's Army?" said George smugly.

One week into the winter term at Hogwarts, Fred and George had managed to acquire everything they would need for their plan. They had thought it best to be as organised as possible before they spoke with Dumbledore again. When they were finally able to meet with the headmaster, they were surprised by how little resistance he offered, despite the dangerous nature of what they proposed.

"It is a good plan," he told them. "Of course there are risks involved, but in war it cannot be otherwise. All I ask of you is that you involve no student who is not yet seventeen years of age. What the witches and wizards who are of age choose to do is not for me to decide. If you carry out your plan as you've explained it to me, and if you prepare them properly, I think perhaps that they will be in no more danger than they would be if the war continued unabated."

The twins could not suppress a grin of excitement. "Thank you, Sir," said George as humbly as he could manage. "We'll do our best."

"I know you will. I have informed Harry of our meeting today, and I believe he has assembled his 'army'. They are in the Room of Requirement, awaiting their orders. I suggest you go and speak to them before they expire of curiosity."

Dumbledore's Army had not grown much in the previous year, and Harry had informed the twins that, since the unceremonious departure of Professor Umbridge, the group had met only irregularly for refresher sessions. Harry had also mentioned that most of the new members were younger students, though he had refused to allow anyone below third year to join, for reasons of safety.

"They just don't have enough control yet," he had told the twins regretfully. "I hate disappointing them, but I don't want any accidents."

Thirty pairs of eyes greeted Fred and George with varying expressions of eagerness, curiosity and apprehension, as they entered the Room of Requirement with a heavy sling across their back, followed by Hagrid, carrying a large crate.

"Most of you know the Weasley twins," Harry introduced them to the group as they and the gamekeeper set down their burdens on a sturdy table. "They're Ron and Ginny's brothers, and they have a proposal they think might interest us. I'd like you to give them your full attention."

The twins bowed. You do it, thought George. You're better at this sort of thing.

All right, replied Fred. But I won't have you interrupting or disagreeing with me. We need to present a unified front if we want these kids to have any confidence in us. We don't want them thinking we're crazy. Agreed?

Then you'd better get started, George informed him. They're staring.

Fred smiled broadly. "Ladies and Gentlemen," he began. "This war stinks, and my brother and I think it has gone on long enough. To that end, we have a new concept in training this year: Muggle weapons!"

Gasps and cries of confusion filled the room as Hagrid tipped over the crate, and crossbows went spilling across the table.

"Muggle weapons?" a young boy the twins did not recognise said scornfully. "What do we want with those when we have magic?"

Fred grinned. "For one thing, it's the last thing Voldemort and his Death Eaters will be expecting." A few of the assembled students squeaked in alarm at the mention of the Dark wizard's name. "He and his minions won't have the first clue how to fight back. And for another, you're not going to have your wands with you when we face them."

This statement was met with uproar.

"No wands?!"

"We'll all be killed!"

"You can't expect us to --"

Fred held up his hands for silence. "No one is going to force you to participate in this experiment. Please, just allow me a moment to explain."

In the end, thirty wands were lined up neatly on a second large table while Muggle weapons were distributed among the students. The twins asked Harry to arrange the wands into a spectrum for them, and then let them know where Voldemort's wand would fall.

"We want as many people on crossbows as possible," George informed the students. "Most of the Death Eaters will be bigger and stronger than you, so maintaining a distance will be to your advantage.

"I'll want a few staff-fighters as well," he went on. "Size and strength are an advantage with the staff, I am told, so that's going to be mostly the older boys. Though anyone is welcome to try, of course," he added hastily when their sister shot them a poisonous look. "Just so you all know, Dumbledore has expressly forbidden anyone under the age of seventeen from taking part in a confrontation --"

Groans of disappointment filled the air.

"However," George continued loudly, "You will all be trained. We have no idea when this event is going to take place, and the training certainly can't hurt."

"Why did you have to bring weapons?" asked Padma Patil. "Shouldn't the room just provide them?"

"I'm glad you asked that." George gave her a winning smile. "Yes, if we had asked it to, the room would have provided weapons for everyone. However, those weapons could not have been removed from the room. Just as you perform your best magic with your own wand, you will do your best fighting with a familiar crossbow or staff. These weapons are yours to keep. Take good care of them."

"But who's going to train us?" asked Neville Longbottom.

"That's me!" replied Hagrid cheerfully. "I'll be teachin' yeh basic crossbow safety today. Once yer ready ter start target practice, I'll be takin' aside any who want ter learn staff-fightin' as well."

A few of the students looked a little nervous at the thought of going toe-to-toe with the huge gamekeeper, but they gamely took up their crossbows and clustered around him.

Fred and George went to the back of the room to see how Harry's wand spectrum was coming along.

"I've got them all laid out," he told them, pointing to the square of wands on the table. "The 'reds' are down at this end, running through 'violet' at this end. I've got the 'darker' ones here at the bottom, and the 'brighter' ones at the top." He tapped the table at the top of the square, just to the right of centre. "That's where Voldemort's wand would be. I'm sure of it."

The twins nodded and experimentally picked up a few of the wands which lay around the empty space, to feel what they had in common.

"So this is what green feels like?" asked Fred, amused.

"Yeah." Harry blushed self-consciously. "But that one you've got there is more yellow."

They nodded. "Thanks, Harry. You have provided an invaluable service. You'd best get to your training, though, hadn't you?"

Harry sighed. "I expect I'm too short and skinny for the staff, aren't I?"

"Probably," agreed George. "I expect that's why Dumbledore wanted you to have this."

Harry gasped. He clearly had not noticed the sword they had been holding in their other hand. It gleamed silver in the afternoon light, and the large ruby in the pommel seemed to glow.

"Gryffindor's sword?" Harry whispered, reverently taking it from the twins and feeling the weight of it in his hands. "Dumbledore wanted me to have it?"

"That's what the man said."

"But --" the boy protested, "I don't know how to use a sword! Not really. I mean, in the Chamber of Secrets, I was fighting a giant snake, not a person. You're not telling me that Hagrid can train me with this?"

"Harry gets a sword?" Ernie Macmillan inquired pompously. "My father's been training me in fencing every school holiday since I was ten. Would it be all right if I wrote asking him to send mine?"

"You've had training?" asked the twins, surprised. "That would be a serious asset."

"Spiffing!" declared Ernie, shaking hands with them. "I'll just be off to the Owlery to let Father know, then."

"I think I'd like a sword," said a misty, faraway voice.

Harry and the twins turned to see Luna Lovegood wandering over as if by accident.

"Er -- that's great, Luna," said Harry. "Do you guys think she could?"

"Dunno," replied Fred. "We don't really have any more at the moment."

"Oh, that's all right," Luna assured them. "I'll make my own."

"Umm -- sure thing, Luna," George said uncertainly. "But not just now. Maybe for today, you could work with Hagrid?"

She gave them a smile that seemed to be directed somewhere over the twins' right shoulder, and wandered back to the cluster of students.

Fred whistled. "Three swordsmen, then. And no one to train them."

"We are in the Room of Requirement," Harry pointed out.

The twins blinked at him. "Now why didn't we think of that, Fred?" asked George. "Oi! Room! Give us a swordsman!" *

There was a sound like a match being lit, and the ghost of Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington appeared in the room.

"Harry!" Nearly-Headless Nick greeted the boy cordially. "And -- er -- Weasley." He nodded to the twins, his not-quite-severed head rocking dangerously on his neck.

"Hullo, Nick," Harry replied, saluting the ghost with a wave of his sword. "We were just wondering if you could do us a favour?"

"Anything for young Harry Potter, as I always tell my friend -- Good Lord!" cried Nick. "That's Gryffindor's sword, isn't it? Does the headmaster know you've got it?"

Harry beamed self-consciously. "He gave it to me, Nick. We -- I was wondering, do you think you could teach me how to use it?"

Nick stroked his ghostly beard and gazed thoughtfully at the sword. "Yes, I suppose so," he said at last. "In fact, I'd be honoured. But it has been a very long time since I handled a sword myself. And of course I won't be able to duel with you, Harry. You realise that, of course? Hmmm -- I suppose I could bring in someone for demonstrations -- not any of those nincompoops from the Headless Hunt, of course -- but you need someone to practice with, Harry. Someone -- er -- tangible."

"He's got me," said Ernie importantly, coming through the door and brushing a few bits of owl fluff from his robes. "I've asked father to send up my sword as soon as he can manage it."

"And me," Luna added cheerfully, carefully leveling her crossbow at a target, apparently unaware that it was not loaded.

"Will that do?" asked Fred.

"Indeed," replied Sir Nicholas. "I think three will be splendid."

There was a sharp popping noise, and a young man appeared beside them. He was of middling height, with light brown hair and startled blue eyes. He wore a chain mail shirt over medieval garb, and there was a longsword clipped to his belt.

"Wha-? Where am I?" he cried in an American accent. "Who the hell are you? You're not in garb!"

"Oh dear," said George. "I think we've got a Muggle. What's your name, my good man?"

The swordsman pulled himself together and gave them a curt bow. "I am Sir Anson Dubh," he introduced himself. "Of the Barony of Glymm Mere in the Kingdom of An Tir. At your service, my lords."

"An Tir?" Harry asked faintly. "Is that -- in America?"

"It's --" the man began, caught off-guard. "No. Or it is, but -- look, I was at a re-enactment event just now, you know? And we were all singing and drinking, and there was this girl -- anyway, next thing I know, I'm here!"

"You're dreaming!" Fred jumped in. "You've just had a little too much to drink, and now you're dreaming that you're in a castle and we want you to teach some young wizards how to use a sword."

"Wizards? Er --"

"I'm Fred and George Weasley," they introduced themself, "And this is Harry Potter."

"No kidding?" The man looked stunned. "Pleased to meet you, Harry. And you, Fred -- er -- George?"

He shook hands with all of them. "So what do you want me to do?"

The Power of Two © 2007 Skjaere