Fred and George's knack for crafting magical prank items ran deep in the Weasley bloodline. They'd dug up the necessary tomes from their father Arthur's collection themselves. Arthur was no stranger to enchanting artifacts himself—like the flying car he'd jury-rigged using ancient family techniques to get airborne.
In the cozy confines of the Burrow's living room hung a peculiar clock, a family heirloom. Its face sported nine golden hands, each etched with a Weasley's name. But time? Hardly. Instead, it tracked locations and states: "home," "school," "work." And it had a knack for sensing peril—at the twelve o'clock mark, "Mortal Peril" glared in blood-red ink.
Fred and George once confessed that when they'd pranked Ron with a mock Unbreakable Vow, his hand had twitched toward that dreaded label. Arthur had salvaged the clock from the old family home when he'd struck out on his own to build the Burrow, a testament to the Weasleys' longstanding flair for magical tinkering.
The rest of the clan, though, showed little interest. Bill broke curses at Gringotts, Charlie wrangled dragons in Romania, and Percy eyed a cushy spot in the British Ministry of Magic. Only the twins were keen to twist those ancestral skills into mischief-making gold.
Vizette's Grindelwald Notebook brimmed with item-crafting secrets too, blending alchemy to brew potent powders that infused everyday objects with magic. Linking the two demanded Transfiguration—the branch Vizette knew inside out.
Gleaned from the notes' margins, one could spot the blazing ambition of young Grindelwald and Dumbledore. They dreamed of reshaping wizards, Muggles, and the world at large. But fate had other plans: a string of twists turned the duo into bitter foes, one locked away, the other slinking back to school.
Most of Grindelwald's entries demanded broad arcane knowledge to unlock their full potential. Vizette had already tapped the simpler bits—like the charm woven into Luna's first-year Christmas gift. To probe deeper, he'd need more foundations.
The twins' invitation was a golden ticket, and Vizette jumped at it. By pooling strengths, he aimed to soak up fresh magical lore and hands-on know-how, cracking the notebook's tougher layers. Watching the creation unfold was thrill enough.
Step one: nail the prank's punch. A nose-biting teacup? It needed chompers to snap at drinkers mid-sip.
As pranksters, safety came first—the bite had to yield to standard counter-charms like Finite Incantatem. Otherwise, they'd invite Ministry meddlers for an unwelcome "chat." The twins loved chaos, but they weren't daft; they weighed risks like any sensible witch or wizard. Potions could mend most mishaps—cracked bones, gashes— in a flash anyway.
Step two: alchemy for the magic dust to lock in the effect. Even with inherited know-how, the twins had tinkered all summer, nailing the formula just days ago.Fine-tuned ratios followed, prepping for the real work.
From step three—enchantment—their method diverged from Grindelwald's. Out came the Rune Dictionary, cross-referencing symbols inspired by the eccentric Wendelin the Weird's carvings. Inscribe the runes, pack 'em with powder, channel the spell: done.
A quick Reparo polished it off. Throughout, Vizette swapped insights, bridging gaps without stepping on toes.
"You craft like this?" Fred rubbed his chin, eyes wide. "Mind blown!"
"Swapping in willow bark for bendiness? Genius!" George grinned. "Vizette, where do you hoard all this?"
He shrugged. "Bits from everywhere—notebooks, even the Restricted Section."
"Restricted Section?" George scratched his scalp. "We've snuck in, but it's a maze. Good luck finding squat!"
Fred chuckled. "Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw, eh? No worries now—Vizette's on Team Weasley. We quiz him anytime."
Vizette's "Rubik's Cube theory"—a clever framework from the notebook—meshed with a pilfered memory fragment and the twins' heritage, slashing costs for the teacups. High volume, low margins: that's how the Weasleys played it. Slash prices, hook the market—soon, every prank-hungry student would yell "Weasley!" first. Smart, sustainable.
Vizette chipped in on batches too, honing his skills while biding time for the full moon.
A week flew by.
He climbed to the Astronomical Tower clutching a mandrake leaf. Fortune smiled: skies clear, moon plump and luminous. Through the telescope, even Europa winked back.
Unfurling the leaf, it shimmered with a silken, moon-kissed glow—as if the lunar light itself craved its embrace.
…
100 Powerstones = 1 Bonus Chapter Tomorrow!
Help us reach the goal!
Too slow? We upload 10 Chapters/Day on P@treon!
The book is likely Already Finished there. Don't wait for daily updates—read the complete story + R-18 scenes right now!
[email protected]/Ren Saga