Kyle, Ron, and the rest of the Weasley children had spent the evening throwing gnos in the yard, but now it was ti for dinner. After playing for a while, Mrs. Weasley's familiar voice called out from The Burrow, announcing that the al was ready. The group, already hungry, quickly abandoned their ga and made their way back to the house.
As they walked, Kyle casually handed out the remaining Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans from the prize box he had won earlier. He gave Ron one and popped one into his own mouth, leaving the rest for Ginny. The young girl, wary of the dreaded dragon dung flavor, hurried over to Kyle, hoping he'd help her avoid any unpleasant surprises.
Kyle understood her request, but he resolutely refused, saying, "Young people need to try new things, Ginny. After all, the whole point of Bertie Bott's Beans is the surprise. If there were no risks, they'd just be called sugar beans."
Ginny pouted, but Kyle stood his ground. He wasn't being lazy—he was just encouraging her sense of adventure. After all, the tagline was "Every bite is a new adventure!"
A few minutes later, the group started toward the house, Kyle leading the way with Ron close behind. But before they got far, Fred and George ca barreling forward, shoving Ron to the side as they hurried past. Ron stumbled, nearly falling into a nearby gno hole, and shot the twins an angry look. His face turned red with frustration, clearly ready to lash out at them if they didn’t apologize.
Unfortunately for Ron, Fred and George didn't even notice. Their attention was completely focused on Kyle. They'd been scheming ever since their mishap in Diagon Alley, which they considered one of the most embarrassing monts of their lives. The twins had been waiting for the perfect opportunity to get back at Kyle, and now that they were back at The Burrow, that chance had arrived.
Ron fud silently behind them, but he knew from experience that confronting his older brothers would only lead to a tussle he couldn't win. Fred and George had bullied him plenty of tis before, and things usually worked themselves out after a few days and a shared snack. For now, however, Ron had no choice but to accept that they were too focused on Kyle to care about his grievances.
As everyone made their way to the dining area, Mrs. Weasley set up a cozy table outside in the yard to accommodate the larger group. Once Kyle sat down in his usual spot, Fred and George quickly flanked him, sitting on either side with suspicious grins. Kyle raised an eyebrow, imdiately sensing that sothing was up.
“Huh?” he muttered to himself, a little surprised. He had never seen the twins sit apart like this. Their sudden positioning was far too deliberate. "This doesn't bode well," Kyle thought.
Their intentions were clear enough, but without knowing what they had planned, Kyle decided to act normal and helped Mrs. Weasley finish setting the table. As he arranged the last dish, his nose was t with the mouthwatering aroma of hearty ho-cooked food: fluffy, crispy buns, soft roasted potatoes, fragrant roast chicken, golden fried chicken nuggets, and tender veal steaks. It was a feast fit for a family, as always at the Weasleys' table.
Once the food was served and everyone had taken their seats, dinner officially began. Kyle remained cautious throughout, keenly aware that the twins were likely planning so kind of mischief. He carefully examined every bite, not wanting to accidentally eat sothing strange. He'd rather not suffer any public embarrassnt, especially with Fred and George sitting so close, clearly plotting sothing.
Though the food was delicious, Kyle couldn’t help but wonder about Hogwarts' als. He wasn't expecting Chinese food, but maybe he could hope for so good French cuisine—or at the very least, a decent pasta or pizza. For now, though, he kept his focus on his plate, determined not to fall into whatever trap Fred and George had prepared.
...
With Kyle on high alert, the twins' plan seed to stall. Throughout dinner, Fred and George behaved as usual, cracking jokes and making everyone laugh without showing any signs of mischief. Kyle's suspicion began to wane as the al progressed.
However, just as the table reached its liveliest point, Fred struck. After telling a particularly funny joke about a Slytherin student with greasy hair, he turned to George and said, "Hey, George, Kyle’s going to Hogwarts tomorrow. Should we give him so advice? You know, for his own safety. After all, it can be pretty dangerous."
George, who had been struggling to swallow a large bite of steak, caught on imdiately. He pretended to consider the suggestion for a mont before responding, "Hmm, I don’t think it’s necessary, Fred. We should trust Kyle—he’s very capable. It’s only an adult Troll after all. He’ll definitely be able to take it down and pass the House sorting without any problems."
Fred nodded solemnly. "You’re right, George. And Mr. Kyle Chopper, with his pride, surely wouldn’t want to rely on us for help. He doesn’t even call us seniors."
Their plan was simple: scare Kyle with exaggerated stories about Hogwarts' House sorting, making him lose sleep the night before his big day. Fred, grinning with satisfaction, was certain this would be the perfect revenge for what had happened in Diagon Alley.
As if on cue, the adults joined in, their eyes gleaming with mischief. The topic of the “New Students House Sorting,” or more specifically, terrifying new students before they entered Hogwarts, had always been a popular pasti among older wizards. It was now Kyle’s turn to be the victim of their well-practiced prank.
"My dear, don’t believe them," Mrs. Weasley said, scolding the twins with a tone that was only half serious. She turned to Kyle, smiling reassuringly. "It’s really not that scary, just a little test involving so ghosts. There’s no real danger at all."
"Molly, how can you lie to the boy?" Mr. Weasley chid in, faking outrage as he shot a mock-glare at his wife. "Kyle’s a smart lad. We should be honest with him. I’m sure he could handle taming a Hippogriff by himself."
"A Hippogriff? I thought it was a Dragon?" Chris said, pretending to be confused before turning to Kyle with absolute certainty. "Son, trust your father. It's definitely a Dragon. And I bet this year it'll be a Hungarian Horntail."
The chaotic back-and-forth continued, with each adult throwing in their own ridiculous version of what Kyle might face at Hogwarts. Fred and George sat back, pleased that their prank was gaining montum, sure that Kyle would fall for it.
But Kyle, already onto them, played his part perfectly. He nodded along seriously to each ridiculous claim, responding with phrases like, "Oh, I see," "Yes, I can," and "I trust you, Dad," all while keeping a straight face.
Mrs. Weasley looked relieved. Mr. Weasley appeared more determined than ever. And Chris, though still uncertain, seed to take so comfort in Kyle’s unwavering agreent.
The truth was, Kyle knew what this was—a ritual of sorts, a kind of playful hazing. The wizarding world had limited sources of entertainnt: Quidditch, so minor festivities, and, of course, fooling young witches and wizards. It was tradition, and Kyle had no reason to spoil their fun. He played along with enthusiasm, finding it amusing rather than nerve-wracking. After all, he thought, it’s just a show. Let them have their fun.
As laughter and banter filled the table, no one seed to notice two small, helpless figures trembling in the far corner—two garden gnos who had wandered too close to the festivities, caught in the crossfire of the night's lighthearted pranks.
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