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After, when Mum leaves to putter about in the kitchen and the rest of the Order sort of trickles out, Fred laughs and looks at his brother.
They look different for the first time — George's head is wrapped up in bloody tissue that hides where his ear was — but that's not what this is about.
He laughs instead, and shoves his twin gently. "Hey, looks like between the two of us we only have two working ears now."
And as expected, George laughs back. "Looks like."
They're thirteen and brewing in the closed-up tunnel that used to be a secret passage out of the school.
George's cutting up the newt tails while Fred slowly stirs their potion — something revolutionary, something that will make them infamous — when it's time to add the salamander blood.
"Careful," George whispers, and Fred rolls his eyes as he takes the vial.
"Duh," Fred replies, because they've done this dozens of times now. Fred knows how dangerous salamander blood can be to a potion.
But today, the stopper is stuck to the vial.
"Shit," Fred swears, because they only have a very short window of opportunity to add the blood before their whole potion is ruined, and he redoubles his efforts to uncork the vial.
It comes off with a loud pop under George's worried look — and unfortunately, the stopper slips through Fred's clammy fingers and straight into the cauldron.
"This doesn't bode well."
It's all George has the time to say before the potion suddenly turns inky black.
Everything goes still for a moment, and then the potion explodes outward with the loudest sound Fred's ever heard.
Fred comes to with his ears ringing, George's worried face easing up in relief as Fred blinks up at him.
"What happened?" he asks, but the ringing is so loud he can't hear himself.
"Potion exploded," George replies, pulling him up, only…
Fred can't hear him. He knows what his brother is saying — they've long since learned to lip-read each other's faces — but all he can really hear is that awful ringing.
"Shit," he says, struggling to sit up. His clothes are dirty — covered in dark stains no doubt coming from their failed potion — and his palms are scrapped up, but other than the headache building behind his temples, he's fine.
He just can't hear anything currently.
"I think," Fred says faintly, and it's so weird to know he's speaking and not hearing it, "we should go see Madam Pomfrey."
George swears too — Fred doesn't even have to look at him to know that, actually — and gently pulls him up to his feet.
By the time they've reached the hospital wing, the ringing has dulled from a loud roar to something much quieter and easy to ignore. Sometimes, Fred even thinks he can catch bits of actual sound — George's been keeping up a steady stream of commentary the whole way there — but the ringing eventually drowns it out every time.
Fred's very proud of the exasperated way with which Madam Pomfrey shows him to a bed to check him out. He and George have worked very hard at it.
It's weirder now, though, not being able to hear the commentary he's sure is happening along with those looks, and Fred swallows nervously, his fists bunching up in the sheets.
This is temporary. Madam Pomfrey's healed worse than some ringing ears, and soon Fred'll go back to hearing his twin's obnoxious voice (they obviously don't sound alike and Fred has the superior voice) and ignoring Madam Pomfrey's recommendations to be more careful.
Only…
That isn't quite what happens.
Madam Pomfrey waves her wand and shoves vials at him — disgusting, slimy potions Fred would rather forget he's ever tasted — and the ringing does stop, but… His hearing doesn't quite return.
Not in his left ear, anyway, and listening with just his right one feels only slightly less complicated than trying to pick up sound underwater.
George cries when Fred tells him, and Madam Pomfrey orders him to stay overnight with pursed lips.
There are, she tells him, spells he can use to compensate for what he's lost. They're not even hard.
He's still practicing when George sneaks in.
"You okay?" George asks, climbing up onto the bed.
Fred shrugs, idly fingering his wand. He sighs and nods. "I'm ear," he says, keeping his face as straight-laced as he can.
George stills, staring back at him with wide eyes, before his face breaks into a large grin. "You scared me, you jerk!" he says, shoving Fred.
Fred laughs, and he can hear it. Mostly. Madam Pomfrey said it might improve with time, but, well…
It could have been worse.
"I think we need a better spot to do our brewing," Fred says.
George snorts. "You think?" He keeps his face right in front of Fred's and speaks toward his right ear, and Fred feels a sudden surge of affection for his brother.
"You staying the night?" he asks, settling back against his pillows.
George snorts and rolls his eyes. "Duh. You know Madam Pomfrey would be more disappointed not to see me here tomorrow morning than to find me here."
Fred grins. "You have a point."
"I always do," George retorts, preening. "Now, come on, move your bony ass so I can lie down too."
"You're the bony one," Fred mumbles back, but he immediately shuffles around the bed to make room for his brother.
He'd protest more usually — there's plenty of other empty beds George could commandeer, for one — but tonight he doesn't want to be alone in this big, silent room.
"We're getting you some better ear puns tomorrow," George finally mumbles as he settles down, yawning.
"Mmh-mh," Fred replies. His brother's sleepiness is contagious, it seems, because the next thing Fred knows, the sun is up and Madam Pomfrey is staring at them with her very judgy eyebrows.
He still can't hear the way he used to, sadly, but George is by his side.
With his twin by his side, Fred can do anything.
"We're going to need some new puns," George tells him regretfully, sitting up gingerly on the sofa.
Fred grins. "Afraid I've already used up all the good ones?"
"As if that could happen," George retorts with a snort. "More like you've used all the bad ones, and now I've got to come up with some good ones."
"You wish," Fred replies with a snort. He nudges his brother, still giddy with the relief of knowing George is going to be fine, and plops down on the sofa.
"But we can play if by ear if you'd rather," he adds with a wink.