It was just like the night

It was just like the night when Trelawney had been sacked. Students were standing all around the walls in a great ring (some of them, Harry noticed, covered in a substance that looked very like Stinksap); teachers and ghosts were also in the crowd. Prominent among the onlookers were members of the Inquisitorial Squad, who were all looking exceptionally pleased with themselves, and Peeves, who was bobbing overhead, gazed down at Fred and George who stood in the middle of the floor with the unmistakeable look of two people who had just been cornered.

‘So!’ said Umbridge triumphantly. Harry realised she was standing just a few stairs in front of him, once more looking down upon her prey. ‘So—you think it amusing to turn a school corridor into a swamp, do you?’

‘Pretty amusing, yeah,’ said Fred, looking up at her without the slightest sign of fear.

Filch elbowed his way closer to Umbridge, almost crying with happiness.

‘I've got the form, Headmistress,’ he said hoarsely, waving the piece of parchment Harry had just seen him take from her desk. ‘I've got the form and I've got the whips waiting ... oh, let me do it now ...’

‘Very good, Argus,’ she said. ‘You two,’ she went on, gazing down at Fred and George, ‘are about to learn what happens to wrongdoers in my school.’

‘You know what?’ said Fred. ‘I don't think we are.’

He turned to his twin.

‘George,’ said Fred, ‘I think we've outgrown full-time education.’

‘Yeah, I've been feeling that way myself,’ said George lightly.

‘Time to test our talents in the real world, d'you reckon?’ asked Fred.

‘Definitely,’ said George.

And before Umbridge could say a word, they raised their wands and said together:

‘Accio brooms!’

Harry heard a loud crash somewhere in the distance. Looking to his left, he ducked just in time. Fred and George's broomsticks, one still trailing the heavy chain and iron peg with which Umbridge had fastened them to the wall, were hurtling along the corridor towards their owners; they turned left, streaked down the stairs and stopped sharply in front of the twins, the chain clattering loudly on the flagged stone floor.

‘We won't be seeing you,’ Fred told Professor Umbridge, swinging his leg over his broomstick.

‘Yeah, don't bother to keep in touch,’ said George, mounting his own.

Fred looked around at the assembled students, at the silent, watchful crowd.

‘It anyone fancies buying a Portable Swamp, as demonstrated upstairs, come to number ninety-three, Diagon Alley—Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes,’ he said in a loud voice. ‘Our new premises!’

‘Special discounts to Hogwart's students who swear they're going to use our products to get rid of this old bat,’ added George, pointing at Professor Umbridge.

‘STOP THEM!’ shrieked Umbridge, but it was too late. As the Inquisitorial Squad closed in, Fred and George kicked off from the floor, shooting fifteen feet into the air, the iron peg swinging dangerously below. Fred looked across the hall at the poltergeist bobbing on his level above the crowd.

‘Give her hell from us, Peeves.’

And Peeves, who Harry had never seen take an order from a student before, swept his belled hat from his head and sprang to a salute as Fred and George wheeled about to tumultuous applause from the students below and sped out of the open front doors into the glorious sunset.