Fred and George didn’t truly dislike Ron; they were just exasperated. If they genuinely didn’t care, they wouldn’t have gone on about him .
“You can’t put it that way,” Kyle said thoughtfully. “At least Ron is honest. That’s a virtue. But why’d they end up dueling Malfoy in the first place?”
“It was apparently over that first-year, Neville,” Fred explained. “Malfoy hid Neville’s Remembrall and mocked him for having a terrible memory. Ron and Harry stood up for him, which led to the challenge—a three-on-three wizard duel. Who comes up with that?”
“Having a sense of justice and loyalty…those are two more points in his favor,” Kyle nodded, genuinely. “So, Ron isn’t as bad as you’re making him out to be. At least he’s got more to him than the fish in the Black Lake.”
“We’re not criticizing his intentions.” Fred shook his head, smiling a bit ruefully. “If he’d acted out of cowardice or shame, we wouldn’t care. We’re just questioning his common sense. I mean, even complaining to Professor McGonagall would’ve been smarter than sneaking to the fourth floor after hours.”
George sighed. “And after all that, he just slept it off and let it go!”
Kyle raised an eyebrow, seeming to pick up on their underlying frustration. After all, the rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin ran deep, and if Slytherins pulled a dirty trick, you didn’t just drop it—you at least returned the favor.
“Now, if it had been me,” George went on, “I’d have five ways to make Malfoy regret it.”
“Like arranging for an owl to deliver a Dungbomb at breakfast that’d explode the moment he opened it,” Fred suggested.
“Or slipping the contents of a failed potion into his shoes,” George added, eyes glinting.
“That might be tricky,” Kyle observed, rubbing his chin. “Snape usually disposes of the failed potions himself. But if you’re willing to risk losing points and detention, you could try causing an ‘accident’ in Potions.”
Fred and George looked at Kyle in surprise. Cause an accident in Snape’s class?
Even if it looked accidental, Snape would dock at least a hundred points—and that was on a good day. Kyle must’ve been mad to think they’d go that far. Gryffindor might come last in the House Cup every year at this rate, which was a humiliation they weren’t eager to live down.
Rolling their eyes, Fred and George decided to ignore Kyle’s suggestion.
“We’ve come up with something better,” George said, exchanging a mischievous glance with Fred.
“To increase Ron’s sense of caution…”
“…and ensure he doesn’t fall for such a flimsy trap again…”
“…we’ve decided to put him through some special training.”
“Special training?” Cedric asked, looking puzzled. “But this isn’t Quidditch—how do you train for something ?”
“We call it The Darkest Hour at Hogwarts,” Fred replied with a wicked grin. “We stayed up all night perfecting it.”
“But it’s all for Ron’s own good—he’s still our favorite little brother,” George added.
“Of course, it might cause him a little pain,” Fred said, feigning innocence. “But he’ll be better for it in the end.”
“At the very least, we know our limits and won’t do any real damage,” George assured.
“In the future, he’ll definitely thank us,” Fred concluded.
Kyle wasn’t sure if future Ron would thank Fred and George, but he knew that Ron’s days were about to get a lot rougher. The Darkest Hour at Hogwarts—the name alone sounded ominous. Though Kyle had no idea what the plan entailed, he knew it wouldn’t be pleasant. Poor Ron—two unpredictable brothers were more than enough to handle.
“Need any help with it?” Kyle asked, a little intrigued.
“Not yet,” Fred replied, shaking his head. “The plan’s perfect already; we’ll start tomorrow.”
Kyle nodded, slightly disappointed. “All right, but let me know if anything comes up.”
“Don’t worry—we’ll go all out when the time comes,” George assured him.
Just then, Kyle felt a sudden, powerful tug on his fishing rod, so strong it nearly yanked him into the Black Lake.
The rod snapped in half with a sharp sound. Kyle forgot all about the Weasley twins and immediately gripped the remaining half of his fishing rod, pulling back with all his might.
“Quick, Cedric, reinforce it!”
The fishing rod they’d been using was makeshift, cobbled together from rowan branches and spider silk, so this kind of breakage was inevitable if they hooked a particularly big catch.
“I’m coming—just hang on!” Cedric shouted, tossing aside his own rod to help.
But before he could draw his wand, Kyle stumbled back as his rod jerked sharply, flinging a silvery-white fish onto the grass nearby.
Ignoring the grass and leaves stuck to him, Kyle jumped up and ran over. The fish was about a foot long, weighing roughly two pounds—a wide-back catfish, typical of the Black Lake.
Kyle frowned. The wide-back catfish in the lake were usually smaller, so two pounds was considered sizable. Yet the tug he’d felt was far too strong for a fish this size to cause. Rowan wood wasn’t especially strong, but even so, a two-pound fish shouldn’t have snapped it clean in two.
Nearby, Cedric, who’d crouched to inspect the fish, pointed at its belly. “Kyle, look at this.”
Kyle leaned over and froze. The fish didn’t have a hook in its mouth; instead, it was tied up. The thin, spidery fishing line had wrapped around it twice, tied neatly in a bow.
“Kyle…” Fred asked uncertainly, “does your fishing rod have some charm that ties knots by itself?”
“Of course not!” Kyle snapped, exasperated. It was just a casual fishing setup; who would go to such trouble as to enchant it to tie knots automatically? Besides, he’d never even heard of such magic.
Seeing the fish tied up so securely, Kyle had a pretty good idea of what might have happened.
The giant squid in the Black Lake…or maybe the Merpeople… Someone—probably one of them—had taken the time to tie this wide-back catfish to the fishing line and send it back.
As if on cue, the others’ fishing rods began to tug. When they pulled them up, each one had a neatly tied wide-back catfish on the end.
Kyle’s face darkened.
Really? They’d spent over an hour with no luck, only to have their “catch” handed to them . Sending fish up as a joke felt like a bit much.