George left in a rush.
Since Kyle’s family wasn't connected to the Floo Network, he needed to return to The Burrow first, and then travel to Diagon Alley via their fireplace at home.
Fred initially wanted to go with him, but as they passed a mirror, he reconsidered and headed back to the attic instead. Although usually easygoing, Fred wasn’t completely indifferent to his appearance. Going to a crowded Diagon Alley with his face ? He’d definitely end up as the first joke of the new school year.
Back in the attic, Kyle began examining the results of the twins' recent work. A large box held more than a dozen types of candies, all popular varieties on the market—Fizzing Whizzbees, cream fudge, toffees, and chocolates.
Kyle picked up a piece of cream fudge. As he brought it closer, he caught a faint bitter smell, oddly out of place with the candy's sweetness.
“This one’s a flop. We found that only toffee can really cover the smell of Swelling Solution,” Fred explained.
Kyle nodded, lifting a piece of toffee to his nose. The bitterness was much milder; you wouldn’t notice it unless you were really paying attention. However, their method of infusing the solution seemed crude—just poking a hole in the candy and stuffing the Swelling Solution inside. With a bit more care, they could probably conceal the scent entirely. Then again, maybe they hadn’t bothered. After all, until they perfected the dosage, it wasn’t even halfway complete.
Fred handed Kyle a notebook containing all their previous experiment records, with detailed notes on each failure and its adverse effects. The journal spanned nearly ten pages, surprisingly thorough.
As Kyle flipped through it, George returned, holding a paper bag full of Shrivelfigs.
"No need to buy so many, George,” Kyle remarked, holding out his hand. “Shrivelfigs are only meant to be supplementary; one or two would have been enough.”
“Better safe than sorry,” George replied, handing over the bag with a grin. "So, you joining us?"
Kyle shrugged. “After a week of nonstop homework, I need a little fun.”
“Speaking of that…” George sighed, “I can’t believe you’re spending your whole break on homework. Percy’s the same way. When I came back, he was complaining that I’d disturbed him—just because I opened the door! And he wasn’t even working in the living room!”
“I’ll give you this: you’re way better than him in that respect. At least you never blame us if you can’t get your work done.”
Kyle, used to the Weasleys’ daily bickering, didn’t mind and simply took out two Shrivelfigs, peeled them, and squeezed out their juice. While he worked, George took a half-full bottle of Swelling Solution from the box, paused to think, then poured half of it into an empty bottle.
Fred and George were only average at potion-making, and since Mrs. Weasley didn’t allow potion-brewing equipment in the house, they’d had to buy the Swelling Solution directly from Diagon Alley—a five-Galleon pint they were determined to use sparingly.
As they added the Shrivelfig juice, the Swelling Solution’s color began to shift, going from its original sky blue to a lighter hue. Kyle nodded; as long as the color didn’t shift entirely, it meant the solution’s properties hadn’t changed.
He picked up the bottle and prepared to drip a bit onto his hand to test the effect.
George quickly stopped him.
“No, no, no, Kyle, you can't do that,” he said, looking unusually serious. “The goal is to make the tongue swell, not the hand.”
He pulled out a fresh piece of candy from his pocket, dabbed some of the solution onto it, and popped it straight into his mouth. “I really shouldn't talk with my mouth full,” George muttered, wrinkling his nose. “This tastes… oooh… oooh…”
Slowly, his cheeks began to puff out, and his words turned into muffled groans as his tongue expanded, thickening visibly. Beside him, Fred was practically jumping with excitement, his own tongue-tied whimpers sounding almost celebratory.
George’s tongue continued to swell rapidly, soon protruding from his mouth like an enormous, slimy python.
“Looks like it worked,” Kyle observed, examining George’s appearance. The Shrivelfig had successfully neutralized part of the Swelling Solution, slowing down its potency so that only the tongue—which had come into direct contact with the most solution—was affected. Now, all they needed was a way to mask the potion’s distinct flavor, so young wizards wouldn’t detect it. Then the “Skiving Snackbox” would be ready for launch.
Fred and George were thrilled.
“Well done, Kyle! Ha ha, Shrivelfig to the rescue,” Fred said, laughing.
Once the swelling subsided, George, looking relieved, said, “You have no idea—we were actually on the verge of giving up.”
“Swelling Solution is so expensive,” Fred added with a shrug. “We’d already gone through an entire bottle before this.”
“Five Galleons’ worth,” George said, still looking pained. “We really should’ve waited for you, Kyle.” The thought of those wasted Galleons made him wince. If they had spent it on Dungbombs instead, they’d have enough for a small war with Slytherin.
“But aren’t you guys loaded?” Kyle asked, grinning. “A hundred Galleons each… you can’t have spent it all already.”
“Being rich and being wasteful aren’t the same thing,” Fred sighed. “And we only have thirty Galleons left—that’s all we managed to keep.”
On the first day of the holidays, Mrs. Weasley had caught them hiding their hefty wallets and accidentally knocked them over while scolding Fred and George. Golden Galleons scattered all over the floor, nearly causing her to faint from shock. She’d thought the twins had robbed some poor Slytherin at school.
Though Fred and George quickly explained the source of the Galleons, Mrs. Weasley didn’t believe them at first. It wasn’t until Chris vouched for them that she finally accepted their story. Still, she confiscated their Galleons, fearing they might be up to some grand mischief.
Now, the thirty Galleons Fred and George still had were what they’d managed to hide in their trunk—a modest sum, enough for their immediate needs, but not much more.