"Rita Skeeter? That reporter from the Daily Prophet?" Fred asked, puzzled, "What does she have to do with this?"
George chimed in, "Besides, we're not interested in her — she's destined for unrequited love."
"What a shame." Kyle said dismissively, walking between the two of them.
Lunch had already started, and he just wanted to sit down and enjoy some tender steak and pumpkin juice, rather than standing at the Great Hall entrance like an idiot.
But Fred and George had other ideas, following him all the way to the Hufflepuff table.
"Though there's no proof, I can't help but think the Charms classroom exploded because you were there."
Fred shoved Cedric aside and sat next to Kyle, grabbing a glass of pumpkin juice and taking a big gulp before continuing.
"Why else would nothing happen before, but as soon as you show up, something like this occurs? It must be your influence."
Hearing this, Kyle felt his shoulders tense, almost choking on his pumpkin juice.
What was that supposed to mean? What had he done? He'd been helping the whole time, and they still had to pin this on him?
He turned his head and wordlessly gave them the middle finger.
But Fred ignored this, continuing, "It's a shame you're not in Gryffindor."
"We asked around." George said with a smile, "Gryffindor first-years have Potions first, and if you were there, with the help of the new students, it might have been Snape ending up in the hospital wing."
"Yeah, what a shame." Fred said regretfully, putting down his pumpkin juice, "If we could really send Snape to the hospital wing, you'd be a hero of Gryffin — no, a hero of all Hogwarts!"
He suddenly became excited about whatever he was thinking of, his whole body trembling with enthusiasm.
He was so excited that he didn't even notice Cedric quietly tugging at his robes beside him.
"Honestly Kyle, I still think you shouldn't be in Hufflepuff. Gryffindor is your true home."
"Well, let's say you're right, but Fred, George..." Kyle cleared his throat and said with a smile, "Why would you think Gryffindor first-years would help me go against Professor Snape? In my opinion, Gryffindor students are all very polite, well-spoken, and their Head of House is kind — they would never be so... um, unruly."
"What nonsense are you talking about, Kyle? Would well-behaved kids ever get sorted into Gryffindor?" Fred was startled, then raised his eyebrows and said, "Oh right, we shouldn't say that — we should say we just like adventure..."
"So... Mr. Fred and Mr. George, is this why you're not eating at your own house table?"
An icy, emotionless voice came from behind them.
The smiles instantly vanished from Fred and George's faces as they turned around stiffly to look behind them.
"Professor McGonagall, when did you get here..." Fred forced an awkward smile — one worse than crying — and said hoarsely, "Um, I think there must be some misunderstanding. I can explain."
"No need, Mr. Fred. I believe I understood your words perfectly well, and there is no misunderstanding. You should be grateful that it's me standing here and not Professor Snape." Minerva's expression remained calm, appearing no different than usual, "For disrespecting a professor, ten points from Gryffindor — ten points each."
Well, at least it was just a point deduction.
Fred and George breathed a sigh of relief. The term had just started, and Gryffindor's hourglass still had plenty of points — losing twenty points was acceptable.
"Furthermore..." She glanced at the twins and continued, "Given your terrible behavior during the Sorting Ceremony, you will both serve detention every evening for the next week."
Fred and George were thunderstruck.
The Sorting Ceremony? They thought that incident was already forgotten...
They could handle losing points, but detention was different, especially for a whole week — seven entire days without being able to wander at night. This was practically a death sentence!
The two were beginning to despair.
"Professor, please..."
Fred and George looked pitifully at Minerva, attempting to awaken her mercy with their pleading expressions.
"Detention begins at eleven o'clock tonight. Find Filch — he'll take you to the Trophy Room. There's a registry containing the names and achievements of all exemplary Gryffindor students since the house's founding. You'll each copy this registry completely. Remember: one copy each, and no magic or Quick-Quotes Quills allowed — all done by hand."
Minerva finished speaking and pointed toward the Gryffindor table.
"Now, Messrs. Weasley, return to your own table immediately!"
{T/N: Messrs. is the plural of Mr.}
Fred and George, thunderstruck, trudged back to the Gryffindor table with their heads down, their faces etched with despair.
Kyle kept his head down too, barely containing his laughter. Only after the twins had departed did he turn around, composed, and say, "Good afternoon, Professor McGonagall. It's wonderful to see you here."
Minerva's voice finally warmed as she replied, "Good afternoon, Mr. Chopper."
"Please, call me Kyle, Professor." Kyle smiled, "Have you had lunch yet? If not, why don't you join us?"
Cedric quickly caught on and moved aside, making room for a comfortable seat.
Her expression softened as she said, "I would love to, but unfortunately, I've already eaten."
To maintain her dignified image, Minerva typically came to the Great Hall before mealtimes or stayed in her office, rarely dining with the young wizards.
"That's such a shame." Kyle sighed softly, and the other little badgers all adopted disappointed expressions in unison, as if they truly wished to share a meal with her.
All perfectly well-behaved...
Looking at the scene before her, then comparing it to the chaotic Gryffindor table nearby, Minerva felt a wave of exhaustion wash over her.
There really was no pain quite like comparison.
Why were all the good children in other houses? Especially Kyle and Cedric — if only at least one of them had been sorted into Gryffindor.
That damned Sorting Hat...
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