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╰┈➤ ❝ [𝑇𝑊𝐸𝑁𝑇𝑌-𝑁𝐼𝑁𝐸] ❞ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-
⁺⤾·˚.⃗.  [ᴠᴀʟᴇɴᴛɪɴᴇs ᴅᴀʏ, ᴡᴇᴀsʟᴇʏ sᴛʏʟᴇ] 𑁍ࠜೄ ˊˎ
﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
— Scottish Highlands
( February 16th, 1995. )

𝐎𝐋𝐘𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐀 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐓𝐎𝐍 had woken early that Valentine's Day morning, the light of dawn just barely peeking through the curtains of her dorm room. She was curled up in bed, a thick book balanced in her lap, its pages illuminated by the soft glow of her wand. The quiet was perfect, a rare slice of peace in the bustling Hogwarts castle. She glanced briefly at her sleeping roommates, Seraphina and Elvira, then back to her book, engrossed in the world on the pages.

A soft knock at the door startled her from her reading. She frowned, quickly closing the book and setting it aside. Slipping out of bed, she tiptoed to the door, mindful of her roommates. When she opened it just a crack, her gaze fell on George Weasley, his tall frame leaning casually against the doorframe. In his hand was a bouquet of wild flowers, their vivid colors bright against the dim corridor light, and his face was split into a grin so wide that it could only mean trouble.

"George," she whispered, stepping fully into the hallway and pulling the door shut gently behind her. Her brow was raised, but there was a smile tugging at her lips despite herself. "What are you doing here so early?"

"Hello, beautiful!"George greeted, his tone overly cheerful as he thrust the bouquet toward her. The mischievous glint in his eye was unmistakable, and Olympia couldn't help but laugh softly as she accepted the flowers. Their sweet fragrance filled the air between them.

"Thank you," she said, leaning up to give him a quick kiss. The gesture was brief but warm, and when she pulled back, she crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing playfully. "But honestly, George, don't act like I'm a bloody idiot. You're up to something."

His grin widened, if that was even possible, and he shrugged, feigning innocence. "What? Can't a bloke just bring his favorite girl some flowers on Valentine's Day without being accused of scheming?"

Olympia rolled her eyes, but the corners of her mouth twitched upward. "You? Without a scheme? Highly unlikely."

George laughed quietly, his free hand rubbing the back of his neck. "Well, maybe there's a bit of scheming involved," he admitted, the glint in his eyes dancing. "But I promise it's all for a good cause."

She shook her head, laughing softly. "Whatever it is, I suppose I'll find out soon enough." Then, with a teasing smile, she added, "But if this gets me in trouble, Weasley, you're taking the blame."

"Deal," he said with a wink, his confidence unshaken. "Happy Valentine's Day, Olympia."

She shook her head again, hiding her smile as she turned the bouquet in her hands, unable to ignore the flutter in her chest. "Happy Valentine's Day, George."

George tilted his head, his mischievous grin softening just slightly as he looked her over. "Alright, I've got an important question for you, Harrington," he said, his voice low enough not to disturb the quiet hall but still carrying that unmistakable playfulness.

Olympia raised an eyebrow at him, clutching the flowers a little closer. "Oh no. Here it comes. Go on, then. What's this important question?"

"How quickly could you get ready?" he asked, the words rolling out casually, though the excitement in his tone betrayed him. "Hypothetically, of course."

Olympia gave him a suspicious look, her arms crossing again as she leaned against the doorframe. "Hypothetically," she repeated, drawing the word out slowly, "why do you need to know?"

George shrugged, though the grin tugging at his lips told her he wasn't about to let the surprise slip just yet. "No reason," he said, far too innocently. "Just... curiousity. Could you be ready to leave in, say, fifteen minutes?"

She narrowed her eyes at him, but there was no hiding the growing curiosity in her expression. "Fifteen minutes? George, you've seen how long it takes me to decide on a single pair of shoes. What kind of hypothetical adventure are we talking about here?"

"That's for me to know and for you to find out," he quipped, leaning slightly closer. "But I promise it's worth it. Comfy clothes, we aren't leaving the castle."

Olympia sighed, shaking her head in mock exasperation, though the smile creeping across her face betrayed her intrigue. "Alright, fine. If you give me twenty minutes, I could probably manage it. But if you're dragging me out for one of your schemes—"

"Twenty minutes it is!" George interrupted, stepping back and clapping his hands together as though sealing a deal. "And I promise, Harrington, this is one scheme you won't regret."

"You'd better hope so," she said with a laugh, already turning toward the door. "Let me get dressed before I change my mind."

As she slipped back into the room, George waited in the hallway, his grin growing wider. This was going to be good.

Olympia emerged from her dorm room exactly twenty minutes later, her Ravenclaw precision on full display. Her hair fell in loose waves over her shoulders, and her light blue sweater under her robes made her eyes seem even brighter. She carried herself with casual elegance, though her expression was a mix of curiosity and suspicion.

George, who had been lazily leaning against the wall, straightened immediately when he saw her. His grin spread wide, and his eyes swept over her with exaggerated admiration. "Blimey, Harrington, you clean up well for someone I dragged out of bed."

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Weasley," she replied, though a faint blush warmed her cheeks. She crossed her arms, tilting her head at him. "Now tell me what kind of trouble you're planning."

George gasped dramatically, clutching his chest as though she'd just insulted him. "Trouble? Me? This is slander, darling. I'm just a simple man trying to treat his favorite Ravenclaw to breakfast."

"Favorite Ravenclaw?" she asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow as they began walking toward the Great Hall. "I'm not sure whether to feel special or wonder how many others you've said that to."

"Only you, of course," George said smoothly, leaning in slightly. "You're one of a kind."

Olympia rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched into a small smile. "You're insufferable."

"And yet," George said with a smirk, "you still came with me. What does that say about you?"

"That I have questionable judgment," she shot back, her tone dry.

As they reached the Great Hall, the scene was even more chaotic than usual. Pink and red streamers were draped across the ceiling, enchanted hearts fluttered through the air, and plates were filled with heart-shaped pastries and chocolates. George steered Olympia toward a spot at the Ravenclaw table, he earned a few side eyes from some judgmental seventh year Ravenclaws but didn't seem to notice (or maybe he did and simply didn't care.)

Once they were seated, George wasted no time piling his plate with toast, eggs, and a muffin, which he promptly shoved into his pocket. Olympia arched an eyebrow at his choice of storage but said nothing, opting instead to butter her toast with practiced precision.

George turned toward her, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Alright, Harrington. Here's the thing. I need your help."

She paused mid-swipe, glancing up at him warily. "That's never a good sign."

"Hear me out," he said, leaning in conspiratorially. "Fred and I have been working on some new products for Valentine's Day—prank products, obviously—and we need someone brilliant to test them out. Someone smart, clever, and capable of spotting flaws in the designs."

"And let me guess," Olympia said, setting down her knife and folding her arms. "You think that someone is me?"

"Of course!" George said, his grin widening. "You've got that big, beautiful Ravenclaw brain of yours. Who better to help refine the future of magical mischief?"

Olympia stared at him, her expression a mix of disbelief and amusement. "George, you can't honestly expect me to test your prank products. On Valentine's Day. In the middle of Hogwarts."

"Not here no! In our secret headquarters obviously." George countered, his grin never faltering. "You're perfect for the job. And it's not just any prank—it's innovation, Harrington. Think of it as advancing the cause of magical humor."

"Secret headquarters?" She raised an eyebrow. "And what exactly do I get out of this 'advancement,' aside from potential detention?"

George leaned in closer, his tone dropping to a low, teasing drawl. "You get the satisfaction of knowing you've contributed to the greatest Valentine's Day prank line Hogwarts has ever seen. And," he added with a wink, "I'll give you half of my cut."

Olympia couldn't stop the laugh that escaped her, though she quickly smothered it with her hand. "You're unbelievable."

"Unbelievably charming." George said smugly, his grin softening into something more genuine as he reached for her hand. "Come on, Ols. Help me out, just like you used to when we were younger! I promise it'll be worth it."

She looked down at their hands, his thumb lightly brushing over her knuckles, and sighed, shaking her head. "You're lucky I like you, Weasley."

"I'm very lucky," he replied, his grin returning in full force. "Does this mean you're in?"

"I'm in," she said reluctantly, though the small smile tugging at her lips betrayed her. "But if this goes wrong, you and Fred are taking the fall."

"Deal," George said, lifting her hand to his lips and pressing a quick, playful kiss to her knuckles. "Now, finish your toast. We've got some chaos to plan."

Olympia rolled her eyes, but she couldn't stop the laugh that bubbled up. Somehow, with George, chaos never seemed all that bad.

        𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌 𝐎𝐅 𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓—Fred and George's unofficial headquarters for mischief—Olympia stood amidst a chaotic array of half-finished prototypes, bubbling cauldrons, and floating parchment. The room smelled faintly of singed sugar and roses, and a suspicious, sticky pink liquid dripped from a nearby shelf.

George held up a small pink chew wrapped in shiny foil, his face alight with excitement. "Right, this one's a classic. Heartstring Chews. You eat one, and it brings out your inner romantic. Can't go wrong with a bit of harmless serenading, eh?"

Olympia eyed the candy skeptically. "And you're sure it works?"

"Positive!" George said confidently, though the twinkle in his eye suggested mischief. "Fred tested it last night."

Olympia folded her arms. "And what happened?"

George hesitated, scratching the back of his neck. "He may have serenaded the Fat Lady, but that's beside the point. She loved it."

Olympia sighed, unwrapping the candy with delicate precision. "If I end up singing to a portrait, I'm kicking your arse."

"Fair deal," George said with a wink.

The candy tasted surprisingly good, a mix of honey and strawberry, and Olympia found herself nodding in approval. "Not bad—"

Her eyes widened as a warm, tingling sensation bubbled up from her throat. Suddenly, she belted out, in a voice far louder than she'd thought possible, "You're just too good to be true! Can't take my eyes off of you!"

George doubled over with laughter as Olympia clamped her hands over her mouth, her expression a mix of horror and amusement. "Make it stop!" she cried between verses, only for the magic to force her into another line: "You'd be like heaven to touch—!"

"Harmless serenading, remember?" George gasped, tears in his eyes as he tried to catch his breath.

Olympia glared at him mid-verse, then pointed to the bubbling cauldron behind him. "Fix this now, Weasley!"

"Alright, alright," George said, still grinning as he rifled through his notes. "It wears off in a few minutes. Just enjoy the spotlight while it lasts!"

As Olympia's impromptu concert faded, she narrowed her eyes at George.

George stifled a chuckle, still smirking. "You sounded great, by the way."

Olympia rolled her eyes, pushing his shoulder. "What's next?"

George held up a vial of shimmering green liquid. "Cupid's Croak. This one's supposed to make you sound irresistibly charming—Fred and I modeled it after some love potions—but there's a tiny chance it might need tweaking."

"Tiny?" Olympia echoed, crossing her arms. "Do I even want to know?"

"Probably not," George admitted, handing her the vial. "But think of the bragging rights. You'll be the first to test it outside the lab."

"Fine," she said, grabbing the vial. "But if I start ribbiting—"

"Don't be so dramatic. Bottoms up!" George said.

Olympia took a cautious sip. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, she opened her mouth to speak, only to let out an unceremonious croak. Her eyes widened in horror.

George froze, then burst out laughing. "I—I swear—Fred must have tamper—" He couldn't even finish his sentence before doubling over.

Olympia glared, her voice now an outraged string of croaks as she stomped her foot. "Ribbit! Ribbit ribbit!" With each angry stomp of her foot.

"Okay, okay," George wheezed, holding up his hands. "I'll fix it—promise!"

But before he could reach for his notes, a bouquet of flowers shot into the air from the corner of the room. They hovered gracefully for a moment, circling Olympia's head like a crown.

"Finally," she croaked, her voice halfway between a frog and herself. "Something that actually—"

The flowers suddenly began pelting her with petals. One hit her square in the forehead, another tangled in her hair. She batted at them furiously, her croaks of frustration blending into George's uncontrollable laughter.

"Fred's meddled with everything!" George managed between gasps. "I'm—so sorry—but—this is brilliant!"

Olympia snatched a handful of petals from her hair and lobbed them at him. "Fix it, or I'm feeding you to the flowers next."

Still chuckling, George wiped his eyes and grabbed his wand. "Alright, alright. Let's call this 'chaotic progress.' Now, let me see if I can sort this before Fred decides to turn the room into a swamp."

As George worked on fixing the chaos, Olympia crossed her arms, glaring. "Next time, you're the test subject, Weasley."

George grinned at her over his shoulder. "Wouldn't have it any other way."

George stood at his workstation, surrounded by notes, bubbling cauldrons, and floating scraps of parchment. Olympia, still picking petals out of her hair, sighed dramatically before pulling her wand from her pocket.

"Well, George, it seems your genius has hit a few... bumps," she said, gesturing to the disaster zone around them.

"Bumps? Please." George smirked. "Every great inventor has a few hiccups. Edison failed hundreds of times before the lightbulb worked."

"Edison didn't have a meddling twin who turned his prototypes into a comedy act," Olympia shot back. She flicked her wand, and a stray parchment floated into her hand. Scanning George's notes, her brow furrowed. "Alright, let's start with these Heartstring Chews. What's causing the uncontrollable serenading?"

George rubbed the back of his neck. "The spell matrix on the candy is designed to activate the vocal cords, but Fred thought it'd be hilarious to amplify the charm. Turns out, he made it too potent and now we can't figure out how to stabilize it."

Olympia snorted. "Too potent? George, I was shouting. Let's tone it down a bit." She leaned over the cauldron labeled Heartstring Chews and peered at the pink, bubbling mixture inside. "Your incantation looks solid, but the charm needs a dampener to limit how frequently it activates."

"Dampener?" George asked, leaning closer. "Like what?"

"Valerian root," she said confidently. "It has a calming effect on most spellwork. We can grind some up, stir it in, and see if it works."

George blinked. "How do you know all that?"

Olympia rolled her eyes. "Just because I'm not in your league of pranksters doesn't mean I'm clueless. I've read Practical Enchantments for Everyday Use. Twice."

"Of course you have, Ravenclaw," George said with a grin. "Alright, let's try it."

Within minutes, Olympia had found a jar of powdered valerian root and measured out a precise amount. She handed it to George, who stirred it into the cauldron. The potion fizzed and shifted from bright pink to a soft rose hue.

"Perfect," Olympia said, satisfied. "Let's test it."

George unwrapped one of the candies and tossed it into his mouth. For a moment, he stood there, smirking. "See? No—"

He suddenly burst into a soft, melodic hum, the kind you might hear from a bard in a cozy inn. No shouting, no dramatic ballads.

"Brilliant," George said, his voice now completely normal. "You actually fixed it."

"Obviously." Olympia smirked. "What's next?"

George grabbed the bottle of shimmering green potion labeled Cupid's Croak and set it between them. "Right, so this one's supposed to make you sound irresistibly charming, but Fred swapped the charm enhancer for... well, frog essence."

Olympia gave him a deadpan look. "Why is frog essence even in here?"

George shrugged. "Fred said it'd be funny."

"Lovely," Olympia muttered, picking up the bottle and examining the potion. "You're missing an amplifier for charm spells. Frog essence has neutralizing properties, which is why it's counteracting your intended effect. If we replace it with powdered unicorn hair, it should work properly."

George's eyebrows shot up. "Powdered unicorn hair? That's high-level stuff."

"Do you want this to work or not?" Olympia said pointedly. "And it's in your stash—I saw it earlier."

George groaned but dug through a drawer, finally producing a small vial of fine silver powder. "Here you go, professor."

Olympia ignored his teasing, carefully adding a pinch of the powder to the potion. The green liquid shimmered and brightened, its scent turning from earthy to sweet. "Alright, give it a go."

George hesitated, then took a sip. His usual grin softened into something... alluring. "Well," he said in a voice that was smoother and deeper than usual, "how do I sound?"

Olympia stared at him, momentarily stunned. "It works."

George's grin returned, and he pointed a finger at her. "Careful, Harrington. You're swooning."

"Oh, please," she said, though her cheeks flushed faintly. "What about those flowers?"

"Ah, the Floating Flowers," George said, grabbing a bouquet still pelting petals around the room. "They're supposed to hover gently around your head. But Fred—"

"—turned them into an airborne snowstorm," Olympia finished, ducking as a rogue petal flew past her.

She studied the enchantment on the flowers, her eyes narrowing as she traced the runes glowing faintly on the stems. "This enchantment is overly aggressive," she muttered. "It looks like Fred swapped out the Levitas Charm for a modified Wind Gust Hex. No wonder they're pelting everyone."

George leaned over her shoulder, his curiosity piqued. "And what do you suggest, O Wise One?"

Olympia smirked at him. "We'll need to strip the hex and reapply the proper charm. Lucky for you, I'm excellent at rune work." She tapped her wand against the bouquet and muttered, "Finite Incantatem." The flowers immediately fell limp in her hands, no longer swirling with magic.

"Alright, step one complete," she said, setting the flowers on the table. "Now, we'll apply a basic Hover Charm, but with a stabilizer to ensure they don't spin out of control again. Do you have any dragonfly wings? They're great for balancing flight-related spells."

George blinked. "You're a walking spell encyclopedia, you know that?"

"You're welcome," Olympia said with a satisfied smirk. She found a small jar labeled Dragonfly Wings on George's cluttered shelf and carefully added a few fragments to the potion soaking the flowers. Then, with a precise flick of her wand, she murmured the incantation for the Levitas Charm.

The flowers shimmered, their colors intensifying as they rose into the air. This time, they hovered gently around her head, spinning slowly like a delicate floral halo.

George whistled. "That's more like it. You've officially saved the day."

"Obviously," Olympia said, brushing a stray petal off her shoulder. "Now, let's see if they'll behave when I move."

She took a step forward, and the flowers followed her gracefully, maintaining their soft orbit. No petals flew loose, no sudden gusts of wind. Olympia turned back to George, triumphant. "Fixed."

George grinned. "You've got quite the knack for this. Sure you don't want to partner up? We could revolutionize the joke shop industry together."

"Tempting," Olympia said dryly. "But I prefer my chaos in smaller doses."

As they tidied up the workstation, George leaned on the table and gave her a lopsided grin. "You know, Ols, I think you might be the most brilliant person I've ever worked with."

"Fred would beat your arse for that." Olympia raised an eyebrow. "And flattery won't get you anywhere, Weasley. I'm still pissed about my hair being ruined from those blasted flowers."

"Not flattery," he said with mock seriousness. "Pure truth. But if you ever get bored of Ravenclaw tower, you're welcome to hang out here anytime. We'd make an excellent team."

Olympia allowed a small smile. "Don't push your luck. Now, let's clean up before Fred comes in and turns all of this into chaos again."

"Fair enough," George said, tossing her a heartstring chew with a grin. "But seriously, thanks for the help. You've made this day about ninety percent less disastrous."

"And that's the highest praise I'll ever get from you, isn't it?"

"Probably," George admitted with a laugh. "But don't worry. I'll let Fred test the next batch. Consider it a gift to humanity."

Olympia chuckled, shaking her head. "Deal."

As Olympia moved to clean up the last of the petals, her attention was caught by a cauldron in the corner. Its frothy, pink liquid bubbled ominously, occasionally letting out little pops of glitter. She froze. "George... what is that?"

George glanced over and waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, that? It's one of our fun creations. We call it Blushberry Bliss. Sweet-tasting strawberry drink. No pranks, no gimmicks, just something for the Hogwarts sweet tooth. Fred and I figured even mischief-makers need a break sometimes."

Olympia raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure it's finished? Because it looks like it's plotting something."

"Relax," George said with a grin. "It's perfectly safe. Watch."

Before she could stop him, George ladled some of the glittering liquid into a mug and downed it in one gulp. He smacked his lips. "Delicious, isn't it? See? Nothing to—"

George's eyes suddenly widened. His pupils dilated comically, and he froze in place for a heartbeat. Then, like a wind-up toy springing to life, he bolted for the door.

"George? What—George, wait!" Olympia called after him, but he was already out of the Room of Requirement, moving with the speed of someone on a mission.

Heart sinking and curiosity piqued, Olympia grabbed her wand and raced after him. By the time she caught up, George was halfway down the corridor, shouting dramatically. "Minerva!" he called out, spotting Professor McGonagall near the entrance hall. "Your eyes—they're like the soft green of an enchanted meadow! I've always admired your... unparalleled intellect!"

McGonagall stopped dead in her tracks, her eyebrows shooting up as George stumbled to his knees in front of her, clutching his chest like he was in a Shakespearean tragedy. "You are the star that lights my darkened sky!" he proclaimed.

"Mr. Weasley," McGonagall said slowly, her tone teetering between confusion and fury. "Have you completely lost your mind?"

Olympia skidded to a halt just in time to see George dart off again, leaving a thoroughly bewildered McGonagall behind. "Sorry, Professor!" Olympia called, hurrying after him. "Potion accident—he doesn't mean it!"

George's next target was none other than Professor Flitwick. The diminutive professor barely had time to register George's approach before he was scooped into an enthusiastic hug. "Oh, Filius," George declared, spinning the startled professor in a circle. "Your charm work has always been an inspiration to me! Truly, you are the unsung hero of Hogwarts!"

"Unhand me this instant!" Flitwick squeaked, wiggling out of George's grasp.

Olympia, torn between laughter and mortification, tried to keep up as George darted away again. "George, stop before—"

She froze in horror as George's path led him directly toward the dungeons. "No, no, no," she muttered, sprinting after him. "Not Snape."

Too late. George burst into the Potions classroom, startling Professor Snape, who was in the middle of preparing an advanced brew. "Severus!" George cried, dropping to one knee with theatrical flair. "Oh, your brooding intellect, your unmatched mastery of potions—I am but a humble fool in your shadow."

Snape's expression darkened to something positively lethal. "Weasley," he said in a low, dangerous voice, "if you do not leave this room immediately, I will ensure your detention lasts until your grandchildren are at Hogwarts."

"Don't reject me!" George wailed, clutching at his chest. "I'll never recover!"

Olympia stumbled into the classroom, her face bright red as she stifled a laugh. "Professor Snape, I'm so sorry—he drank a potion he wasn't supposed to. It's a dodgy love potion gone horribly wrong. I'll fix it!"

"See that you do," Snape said coldly, stepping over George's still-kneeling form with practiced disdain.

"George, for Merlin's sake, get up!" Olympia hissed, dragging him by his arm and half-carrying him out of the dungeons as he continued to spout sonnets about Snape's 'dark piercing glare.'

Once they were safely in an empty corridor, Olympia dropped George onto a bench and whipped out her wand. "Stay still while I fix this before you declare your love to the entire castle."

George blinked at her, his lovestruck haze still in full effect. "Olympia," he said dreamily, his gaze softening. "Even in my current state, I can see you're the most brilliant, radiant—"

"Don't you dare," she snapped, snapping her fingers to divert his attention, though her face burned. She muttered a counter-charm, waving her wand over him. The frothy pink glow around George faded, and his eyes slowly returned to normal.

He blinked a few times, then groaned, dropping his head into his hands. "What just happened?"

"You professed your undying love to McGonagall, Flitwick, and Snape," Olympia said, biting her lip to keep from laughing.

George peeked at her through his fingers. "Please tell me you're joking."

"Nope." She grinned. "You were very poetic about it, too. Snape looked ready to hex you into next week."

George let out a muffled groan. "Fred. He must've messed with our drink. I'm going to kill him."

"You might want to thank him first," Olympia said, smirking. "That was the most entertaining thing I've seen all year."

George dropped his hands and looked at her. "You didn't stop me sooner on purpose, didn't you?"

Olympia's smirk widened. "Maybe. Call it payback for the flowers."

Just as Olympia managed to steady George and stow her wand, a faint rustling noise reached her ears. She turned to see a trail of sticky chocolate footprints leading away from where the entrance to the Room Of Requirement would be.

"George," she said slowly, her eyes narrowing as she pointed at the mess, "please tell me that isn't what I think it is."

George followed her gaze and immediately slapped his forehead. "Oh, no. Not the frogs."

"The what?" Olympia asked, already dreading the answer.

George crouched to inspect the box. "Enchanted Chocolate Frogs," he muttered, sounding equal parts guilty and impressed. "I've been working on a batch that can multiply if one gets eaten—Fred's idea. You know, for a never-ending snack...But..."

Olympia groaned. "Let me guess—Fred meddled."

George grimaced. "Yeah, he might've boosted the enchantment. A lot. If one escapes, it can keep multiplying... uncontrollably."

As if on cue, a loud croak echoed down the corridor, followed by a flurry of chocolate hopping noises. Olympia and George turned just in time to see a horde of enchanted Chocolate Frogs bounding toward the castle's main staircase, their sticky little feet leaving trails of cocoa chaos.

"Oh, no," Olympia muttered, already breaking into a run. "Oh, no, no, no!"

"I'll grab the left hall—you take the stairs!" George yelled, sprinting in the opposite direction. "Don't let them reach the Great Hall, or it's over!"

Olympia darted up the stairs, her wand at the ready. A group of Chocolate Frogs hopped gleefully past her, scaling the walls like mischievous little climbers. "Arresto Momentum!" she shouted, slowing one frog mid-hop, but before she could grab it, three more leaped past her, heading toward the Ravenclaw common room.

"This is a nightmare," she muttered, chasing after them.

Meanwhile, George was in the Charms corridor, desperately waving his wand as frogs scattered in all directions. "I should've stuck to fireworks," he grumbled. He managed to catch one frog, only for it to vanish in his hands and reappear as two smaller ones. "Brilliant," he muttered. "Fred's definitely getting hexed for this."

Back in the stairwell, Olympia tried every containment spell she could think of, but the frogs were multiplying faster than she could keep up. By the time she reached the bottom of the stairs, the castle floor was slick with chocolate smears. She rounded a corner, only to crash directly into George.

"Oof!" They tumbled to the floor in a heap, sliding through a puddle of melted chocolate. George groaned, trying to sit up, but his hands slipped, sending him sprawling again.

"Nice teamwork, Georgie," Olympia said, wiping chocolate off her cheek.

George laughed despite himself. "You look like you've been through a chocolate battle."

"Oh, I have," she said dryly, brushing a chocolate frog off her shoulder. "We need to stop these before we're buried alive."

George snapped his fingers. "The multiplying charm! If we reverse it, the frogs will stop spawning."

"Brilliant deduction, Sherlock," Olympia said, rolling her eyes. "Do you know the counter-spell?"

George hesitated. "Uh... maybe?"

Olympia sighed. "Fine, step aside. Let me try." She waved her wand in a wide arc. "Finite Multiplicem!"

A soft pulse of magic rippled through the castle. The Chocolate Frogs froze mid-hop, then shimmered as the extra copies vanished into thin air. Only a handful of the original enchanted frogs remained, hopping sluggishly in place.

"It worked!" Olympia exclaimed, scooping up one of the frogs.

George grinned, pulling himself to his feet. "Not bad, Harrington. You might just be the ultimate cleanup crew."

"Don't get used to it," she said, her smirk betraying her amusement. "Now, let's round these up before they start another stampede."

The two of them spent the next half-hour chasing the remaining frogs through the castle. They slipped, slid, and occasionally crashed into walls in their pursuit, laughing uncontrollably as they worked together. Fellow students were shocked at the chocolatey mess, slipping and sliding and yelling curses along the lines of 'those damn Weasley's!'

The chase finally reached its climax in the Great Hall, where dozens of enchanted Chocolate Frogs had already bounced onto the long tables, leaving sticky trails in their wake. Students and professors alike were shouting in confusion, dodging the rogue confections as they ricocheted off walls and benches.

"Over there!" Olympia cried, pointing to the head table, where one particularly large Chocolate Frog had launched itself toward Professor Dumbledore.

In what felt like slow motion, the frog soared through the air—and landed squarely in the wizard's majestic silver beard, tangling itself in the strands. Dumbledore, ever composed, merely raised an eyebrow as he looked down at the creature.

Olympia doubled over, clutching her sides as laughter bubbled out of her uncontrollably. "I—I can't—" she gasped, leaning on George for support.

George, his face a mix of horror and suppressed amusement, stepped forward, his robes streaked with chocolate. "Professor, I—uh—I can explain."

Dumbledore gently plucked the Chocolate Frog from his beard, holding it up for examination. "Ah, an ambitious enchantment," he said mildly, his blue eyes twinkling as he glanced at George. "A bit unrefined, perhaps, but clever nonetheless."

"Refined!" George echoed, his voice cracking slightly. "Yes, exactly! Refinement is my specialty-"

Olympia let out another peal of laughter, nearly collapsing to the floor. George, catching her eye, couldn't help but grin, even as he tried to salvage what remained of his dignity.

Before another word could be said, Fred sauntered into the hall, clearly drawn by the chaos. "What in Merlin's name—" He stopped, taking in the scene: chocolate-covered tables, a bemused Dumbledore holding a squirming frog, and George, still looking like a lovestruck fool.

Fred's expression shifted into a sly grin. "I see my improvements went... spectacularly."

George glared at his twin. "Your improvements turned me into a walking embarrassment. You're taking the blame for this."

Fred considered it for a moment, then turned to Dumbledore with an exaggerated bow. "Apologies, Professor. My fault entirely. George told me not to meddle, but I couldn't resist. You know how it is with brilliance."

Dumbledore smiled faintly, handing the Chocolate Frog back to Fred. "Indeed. Creativity often has its side effects. I trust you'll clean this up?"

"Absolutely, Professor," Fred said, flashing a charming grin. "Leave it to us."

As the professors and students dispersed, muttering about 'those Weasley twins,' George slumped onto one of the benches, running a hand through his hair. Olympia sat beside him, still giggling as she wiped chocolate off her sleeve.

"Well," she said, catching her breath, "your products definitely need work, but I can honestly say I haven't laughed this much in ages."

George looked over at her, his grin returning. "You're welcome, darling. Chaos is my specialty."

She rolled her eyes, though her smile softened. "If this is your idea of a Valentine's Day prototype run, I'm terrified for April Fools."

George pulled a surviving Chocolate Frog from his pocket, broke it in half, and handed her a piece. "Oh," he said with a mischievous glint in his eye, "it'll be twice as chaotic. Promise."

Olympia took the chocolate, shaking her head but laughing again. "Merlin help us all." She placed a kiss on his cheek.