The rain started just as Fred and George Weasley left the castle to go down the soggy slope towards the edge of the forest, where they would have Care of Magical Creatures, a class they had both been looking forward to all week, for it was their favourite class in school, even though they had once chosen it purely because it had sounded more fun (and, most importantly, far less work) than many of the other options, such as Ancient Runes or Arithmancy. Kettleburn was another big reason they had chosen this class, and Kettleburn had not let them down. Famously absent-minded and with a reputation of misjudging the danger of certain magical creatures, resulting in freak accidents and loss of limb, it was the perfect class to get up to some mischief.
Yes, it was their favourite class indeed, and so they did not mind the rain one bit. The only thing on their minds was the creature Kettleburn had picked for them to study this time – one that fits into little crates, by the look of it, as hundreds of them lay scattered across the grass in some sort of line tracking from Hagrid’s hut all the way to the forest. The crates were moving a little, as if something inside was desperate to get out, and it probably was.
‘Shame it can’t be anything big if it fits in those,’ Fred whispered to his brother as they came to a halt, the rest of the class slowly gathering around them.
George smirked. ‘Don’t give up hope; he’s got a reputation to uphold, doesn’t he? It’ll be something interesting. I bet it has teeth, and loads of them.’
Fred hadn’t time to reply; Kettleburn appeared in the distance, coming out of the forest. He had acquired a new limp since the twins had last seen him, and as he drew closer, they could see still-smoldering holes and burns on his grey and tattered cloak.
He came to a halt in front of the class, blinked, stared blankly ahead for a few seconds, and then said, ‘Students?’
A few people chuckled. Kettleburn’s face lit up.
‘Students!’ he proclaimed. ‘Welcome! Welcome! What year are you lot, then?’
‘Fourth-years, sir,’ Lee Jordan called out, elbowing both Fred and George as he squeezed between them to get a better look at the crates.
‘Fourth-years!’ Kettleburn repeated, far louder than necessary. ‘Yes! Yes, I remember now! I have selected a creature that’s interesting but manageable. Perfect for, er, fourth-years, such as yourselves.’
He moved towards one of the crates and the whole class gathered closer around it, to see what was in them. Kettleburn lifted the lid and pulled out a small, bright orange lizard. It seemed to be glowing and hissed with every drop of rain that touched its body. Kettleburn lifted it high over his head, so that all could see.
‘This here is a Fire Salamander,’ he announced proudly. ‘These little guys have a fascinating relationship with fire. Heat-resistant, they are. They even thrive in it. Quite spectacular indeed … But pay attention when handling these beauties. Generally they are harmless, but they can become agitated if they sense fear or hostility. Can give you some nasty burns. Now, who’d like to hold it?’
George’s hand shot up instantly, and Fred’s followed a heartbeat later. Lee’s too. The rest of the class, apparently scared they’d get burnt by the salamander, suddenly found the grass very interesting, and took several steps back.
The creature was placed in George’s hands. It was warm to touch, but not so hot he worried much about those burns. Yet, at least, as the salamander didn’t seem to like it much in George’s hands, however; it kept twitching and moving, trying to get away, but George managed to hold onto it all the same.
‘Very good, very good!’ said Kettleburn. ‘Ten points to – to …’
‘Gryffindor,’ George helped.
‘Yes, ten points to Gryffindor!’ concluded Kettleburn, before turning to Fred. ‘You there – yes, you.’
‘Fred Weasley, sir.’
Kettleburn blinked. ‘Funny, you look just like the boy holding the salamander.’
‘That’s my twin.’
‘Ah, right. Yes, now that you mention it …’ he trailed off, then snapped his fingers. ‘What was I saying? Oh yes – that basket over there, see it? Full of insect boxes. Fetch one, would you?’
Fred jogged off to do as Kettleburn instructed, whilst George tried to hold onto the increasingly restless (and increasingly hot) salamander.
Kettleburn seemed not to notice his struggles; he turned to the rest of the class and cheerfully told them to pair up and open the rest of the crates. As Fred and George had already sort of paired up for this, without necessarily meaning to, this left Lee to find someone else. Unfortunately for him, this someone else was someone ‘sensible’, or as they liked to call it, someone boring.
And so the class set moving, opening the crates and reluctantly pulling out the orange creatures.
And Fred returned with the insects just in time, because the salamander was becoming quite agitated and hot in George’s hands indeed, its skin pulsing angrily until Fred showed it a handful of insects. The Salamander immediately forgot about George and snapped them up eagerly, jumping into Fred’s hands instead.
‘Thanks,’ George muttered, flexing his reddened fingers. ‘I swear it was about to roast me alive. Now let’s get through this without ending up looking like Kettleburn.’
Not ending up looking like Kettleburn was easier said than done for most of the class, as they struggled to feed the Fire Salamanders. Kettleburn himself tried to give advice, wandering amongst the students, but this advice often came too late and many a student had burnt fingers. But giving up was, as always, out of the question; feeding it was important because they had a lot of growing left to do before they could help out Snape with their extremely valuable blood.
This did little to encourage the students further, as few of them felt much for helping Snape at all, especially if helping included getting burnt.
But the Weasley twins fared better than most. Fred was feeding the salamander more and more insects, and the salamander grew more docile with every one. And it gave him a little idea: if this creature stayed this calm, if it could be trained, experimented with … this little creature might be worth far more than its blood.
He leaned toward George. ‘You thinking what I’m thinking?’
George’s answering grin was positively wicked. He nodded, waited for Kettleburn to look away, then slipped over to Lee.
‘We need your help,’ he whispered, pretending to help him feed the salamander.
‘What do you need?’
‘A distraction. You’ll see why,’ he added, eyeing Lee’s partner with distrust.
Lee winked. ‘Consider it done.’
George returned to Fred, who was still holding the now-sleepy salamander. He gave him a thumbs-up.
Minutes later, chaos erupted.
‘One’s escaped!’ Lee shouted, pointing wildly as his Salamander (courtesy of a subtle nudge) darted towards the forest, leaving a trail of burnt grass in its wake.
Kettleburn yelped and took off after it, whilst most of the rest of the class either dropped their own salamanders or hastily tried to put them back in the crates. Either way, nobody was watching Fred and George, and they didn’t waste a second; Fred ran in the opposite direction to Kettleburn, going up the slope, into the castle, and up the marble staircase to stash the creature away in their dormitory for later. They hadn’t exactly planned where to keep it, or how to keep it from destroying everything in Gryffindor Tower, but they’d figure that out later.
George stayed behind, with Lee, trying to help Kettleburn by gathering up as many escaped salamanders as they could find, so that when Kettleburn returned, all he saw was that very serious, helpful Weasley boy, Fredorge or Geofred or something like that, and his helpful partner, and he didn’t think for a minute either of them would ever nick an animal from his class – and least of all to experiment on, of course.