Just Say Yes || Fred Weasley

Chapter One Hundred and Thirty Three

"Feels weird shopping in Zonkos now."
The twins looked at Lee weirdly, waiting for an explanation.
"Well, you know... you'll be driving them out of business soon."
George chuckled, bumping his arm into Lee's gently, "We can only dream."
"I think they've still got a bit of time left until we completely take over the market," Fred added, but his grin showed otherwise, "It is weird to think of though, now that you mention it."
"Still," I said, piling some more product into Fred's arms, "We've been their best paying customers for years - not like they can exactly be mad at us."
"Very true."
I glanced at the clock (the hands were made up of rubber ducks that squawked every time they hit a multiple of 5), and tugged on a handful of Fred's hair, "We're supposed to be at that meeting in ten minutes. It'll take ages to ring all this stuff up."
"Ah shit, you're right - can we get all this please?"

"This was more people than I was expecting," I said, readjusting the Zonkos bag in my arms as I nodded at the procession of students making their way to the Hogs Head.
Lee nodded, "I don't think I've ever even been in there."
"For good reason."
"One positive about it" George added, holding the door open with his foot, "The pink troll would never be seen dead in such a place."
"You could look at it like that," Lee agreed, grimacing as we walked through the doors, "Or you could take it - like I am - that this place is so far below safety regulations that it's laughable to even go anywhere near here."
"Where's your adventurous attitude?" George teased.
"I'm plenty adventurous - i just tend to like my butterbeer not to have dirt in it."

"Hi," Fred had rushed ahead to the bar, counting people as they came through the doors, "Could we have . . . twenty-six butterbeers, please?"
The barman glared at him for a moment, then, throwing down his rag irritably as though he had been interrupted in something very important, and started passing up dusty butterbeers from under the bar.
"Cheers," said Fred, handing them out. "Cough up, everyone, I haven't got enough gold for all of these. . . ." I raised an eyebrow at him, laughing as he got coins thrown towards him from all directions. He winked at me, "Not you though, my treat."
"What a gentleman," I laughed, placing the bags at my feet before accepting the drink.
The door swung open once more, Connor, Ebony, Beth, Miles and the Sterling twins walking in, waving to us as they did so.
Once everyone was settled down, the attention turned to Harry, Hermione standing up from her seat.

"Er," she said, voice slightly higher than usual out of nerves. "Well — er — hi."
"Well . . . erm . . . well, you know why you're here. Erm . . . well, Harry here had the idea — I mean" — Harry had thrown her a sharp look — "I had the idea — that it might be good if people who wanted to study Defense Against the Dark Arts — and I mean, really study it, you know, not the rubbish that Umbridge is doing with us" — (Hermione's voice became suddenly much stronger and more confident) — "because nobody could call that Defense Against the Dark Arts" —
"Hear, hear," said Anthony Goldstein, and Hermione looked heartened — "well, I thought it would be good if we, well, took matters into our own hands."
She paused, looked sideways at Harry, and went on, "And by that I mean learning how to defend ourselves properly, not just theory but the real spells —"
"You want to pass your Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L. too though, I bet?" said Michael Corner.
"Of course I do," said Hermione at once. "But I want more than that, I want to be properly trained in Defense because . . . because . . ." She took a great breath and finished, "Because Lord Voldemort's back."
The reaction was immediate and predictable, shouts of fear echoing around the group. I crossed my arms defensively over my chest as all of them looked fixedly, even eagerly, at Harry.
"Well . . . that's the plan anyway," said Hermione. "If you want to join us, we need to decide how we're going to —"
"Where's the proof You-Know-Who's back?" said the blond Hufflepuff player in a rather aggressive voice.
"Well, Dumbledore believes it —" Hermione began.
"You mean, Dumbledore believes him," said the blond boy, nodding at Harry.
"Shut up for the love of Merlin," Beth called, looking at him icily.
"Who are you?" said Ron rather rudely, glaring at the boy.
"Zacharias Smith," said the boy, "and I think we've got the right to know exactly what makes him say You-Know-Who's back."
"Bloody prick" George muttered.

"Look," said Hermione, intervening swiftly, "that's really not what this meeting was supposed to be about —"
"It's okay, Hermione," said Harry.
"What makes me say You-Know-Who's back?" he asked, looking Zacharias straight in the face. "I saw him. But Dumbledore told the whole school what happened last year, and if you didn't believe him, you don't believe me, and I'm not wasting an afternoon trying to convince anyone."

The whole group seemed to have held its breath while Harry spoke.
Zacharias said dismissively, "All Dumbledore told us last year was that Cedric Diggory-" I saw Miles place a supportive hand on his sister's shoulder as her eyes began to water, "-got killed by You-Know-Who and that you brought Diggory's body back to Hogwarts. He didn't give us details, he didn't tell us exactly how Diggory got murdered, I think we'd all like to know —"
I went to protest, Fred lightly squeezing my arm to stop me, dipping to speak lowly in my ear, "Harry needs to do this."
I frowned, but conceded.
"If you've come to hear exactly what it looks like when Voldemort murders someone I can't help you," Harry said, not taking his eyes from Zacharias Smith's aggressive face. "I don't want to talk about Cedric Diggory, all right? So if that's what you're here for, you might as well clear out."
He cast an angry look in Hermione's direction, but none of them left their seats, not even Zacharias Smith, though he continued to gaze intently at Harry.
"Little prick." I murmured, leaning against Fred's side.