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Fred Weasley nearly fell on his face when he first heard it, tripping over his shoes in shock and only just catching himself with George’s shoulder. They had pranked their younger brother by charming his parchment to spit out confetti when opened. Ron had been a prat for most of the week, to everyone, and they had felt it was their brotherly duty to set him straight. Fred had done the incantation while George had kept watch. They had both run for it when the pink pieces blasted around their brother and his best friend. Harry had been an unfortunate casualty to their prank.
“Bloody hell George! Can’t you two leave me alone?” Their younger brother barked, which wasn’t unusual. Everyone always mixed them up, even their best friend Lee often got them confused. No, what nearly had him faceplanting rather than escaping was what their little brother's best friend replied with.
“That was Fred.” Harry’s voice was distant and Fred risked looking over his shoulder to see that the boy-who-lived still had his nose in his charms book while scratching away at a large piece of parchment, apparently unaffected by the little pink sparkles surrounding them. Fred had made his move because neither boy had been paying attention and yet- Harry had known who it was. The red haired boy couldn’t figure out how and didn’t have any more time to ponder as his twin successfully yanked him up the staircase to their room. But not before he overheard the last of the conversation.
“Oh who cares?” Ron snarled still in a snit, though his voice sounded a bit offronted. Likely because rather than sticking up for him, Harry seemed to be sticking up for the twins.
“I would imagine they care.” Was the eleven year olds dry response.
“Did you hear that Georgie?” Fred finally burst out when they’d made it safely into their dorm room.
“What?” His twin asked, voice muffled from being stuck in his trunk while he rummaged around. He popped back up, hair looking eerily like Harry’s as it flew about his face, charged with static. In his hand he held a bottle of pumpkin juice, their last one until the first Hogsmeade visit. Unless they got bored and decided to sneak down to the village in advance.
“Did you hear what Harry said?” Fred asked, opening his side stand and pulling out a heavy metal goblet. Blowing in it he coughed as a cloud of dust engulfed him and pulled out his wand to mumble a cleaning spell that his brother echoed on his own goblet.
“No, I was a bit preoccupied with our getaway. Why? Did he like the confetti? Maybe ittle Ronniekins annoyed him too.” He measured out equal portions in each glass before corking the remaining juice and tucking it back into his trunk.
“He corrected Ron when he called me George.” Fred saw one red eyebrow raise high upon his forehead and continued. “He only barely glanced up and that was after I set the bomb off. But he knew it was me instead of you.”
George had raised the glass to take a drink but paused, lowering it halfway again and staring in Fred’s direction. His twin recognized his distant look and knew his brother wasn’t actually seeing him. As quickly as he drifted, he returned and shook himself.
“It was probably just dumb luck.” George shrugged and turned to drink his juice. They had both thought more than once that someone had finally learned to tell them apart, only to have it thrown in their face. Lee Jordan had been the latest and had been a blow to both of them. They loved each other dearly but they wished people would understand they were actually two separate people and not one.
Fred understood George’s dismissiveness, but he couldn’t help but feel this was different.
***
George was present the next time that it happened. He had dropped a dung bomb in the common room as a way to liven up the place that had turned so dreary in preparation for midterms. He dodged a spell flung by the brightest witch in Ron’s year, Hermione Granger.
“Some of us would appreciate it if you'd let us study, Fred!” She growled and sniffed, dark circles under eyes from nights of studying and ink blots all up and down her hands and arms.
“Mione- that was George.” Fred could see his twin's shock when the normally quiet voice spoke up. They looked at each other and both understood that they’d heard the same thing and not only that, but Harry had seemed almost offended on their behalf.
“It’s not like it matters.” Her voice was haughty, likely because she didn’t like to be corrected. “One or the other, they do the same.”
“But they aren’t the same.” The twins had sidled up the stairs into the shadows out of sight, but they could just make out the young Gryffindor, his emerald eyes burning as he packed up his stuff with more force than strictly necessary and slipped off out of the portrait hole.
Neither bothered to see what Hermione thought of the situation, already disappearing up into their dorm, pondering the puzzle that was Harry Potter.
“How is he-“ George began.
“Doing that? I wish I knew.” Fred easily finished for his brother, flipping pensively onto his bed. “Should we-“
“Approach him? No, let’s keep watching. It may-“
“Be a fluke.” Fred finished but he really didn’t think so, he didn’t think that George did either, but they had been fooled before and it had hurt.
***
Fred could feel a chill deep in his bones as icy rain poured over the quidditch field. He shook his hair out of his face and grimaced when it slapped against the back of his head and remained plastered there. He could sense George nearby but had no time to look at him as he caught a bludger heading off to Angelina. He leaned forward and rocketed towards her, slamming his bat into the ball and watching it flip angrily away. A crack of lightning left him feeling an uneasy buzzing in the air followed by the rumble of thunder. He sought out their seeker, hoping he was close to ending the game.
Harry was high above them, eyes scanning the entire length of the pitch, back and forth methodically. When his green gaze passed by Fred, the red head saw him blink and offer a harried smile before continuing his search and drifting his broom along. He resembled a drowned rat rather than an eleven year old boy and not for the first time the twin felt a bit of rage that no one took that into consideration in such nasty weather.
A whistling noise announced the arrival of another bludger and Fred rolled over on his broom gathering enough momentum to whack the ball towards the Hufflepuff’s keeper. He winced in sympathy when it glanced off Davies elbow, though to his credit the fifth year did nothing more than grimace and speed around the hoops to avoid the now angrily buzzing ball. Unfortunately for him this left an opening for Katie.
“And with a masterful piece of broom work by George Weasley, Gryffindor-“ Fred squinted through the sheets of rain across the pitch.
Harry, upside down on his broom next to Lee, spoke to the commentator before the beater saw him suddenly jerk back onto his broom and go straight up into the air.
“Sorry mates, I mean with Fred Weasley masterful piece of broom work Katie Bell was able to score. And after correcting my mistake Harry Potter has spotted the snitch and-“ everyone held their breath as the slight boy streaked high into the sky, a flash of lightning outlined his figure as his hand closed around the snitch.
Harry waved his hand as he took a lap around the pitch to make sure there was no mistaking what he had done.
“Yes! Harry Potter has caught the golden snitch, Gryffindor wins the game!” Lee’s voice was nearly drowned out by the wave of cheers that echoed across the stadium.
Later in their dorm room, mildly annoyed they hadn’t been able to peel Harry away from Oliver who was intent on having him retell his catch over and over, they barely looked up when Lee popped in. Fred finally noticed their friend shifting from foot to foot in the entryway rather than move to his bunk and glanced up with a raised eyebrow.
“Alright mate?” He finally asked, preferring to be in his snit but conscious their friend might need them. “You-“
“Look like you’ve seen a -“ George picked up, looking up as well.
“Ghost.” Fred finished before they both cracked grins at their shared joke.
“I’m sorry I messed you two up out there.” His head was tilted and he stared at the floor using the toe of his boot to rub against the rug beneath him as if to wipe away his misdeed. “I’m glad Harry corrected me.”
The twins glanced at each other, they weren’t really sure that it could be called a fluke anymore, but they couldn’t understand how the young Lion could be doing it. Especially when even their own family couldn’t.
***
The twins never really found a time to sit Harry down and ask. Before they knew it, finals were upon them all and then they were being woken in the middle of the night by an uncharacteristically frazzled Professor McGonegal who informed them that Ron and Hermione were in the Hospital Wing.
“What about-“
“Harry?” They asked together as they dragged on their robes and tripped after the deceivingly speedy older woman.
“He hasn’t been found yet.” Her mouth was white from how tightly she held her jaw and refused to speak further as she escorted them through the castle.
By the time they had arrived, they found Madam Pomphrey hovering over an unconscious Harry Potter, while Professor Dumbledore held back Ron and Hermione from approaching his bed and getting in the way.
“Harry!” Fred called, grabbing everyone’s attention except the busy healer.
“What happened?” George snapped, causing more stares at their uncharacteristic seriousness.
“It was You-Know-Who!” Ron blurted out causing the twins to stop in their tracks just mere feet from the injured boy. “He was here and Harry stopped him.”
“Is he going-“
“To be alright, Madam-“
“Pomphrey?” More anxious than they had ever been in their lives, they finished each other's sentences seamlessly, sensing when their other half was growing choked up.
“He’ll be fine Messer's Weasley.” She replied, voice cool and calm, despite how quickly her wand flicked over the top of the boy in question.” He could stand to have a few large meals, but he’ll be fine.” They were certain the last bit wasn’t meant for them to hear, if her withering glance at the headmaster- who looked somewhat abashed, was any indication. They kept their mouths shut but looked at each other. Something was wrong with Harry that had nothing to do with his attack and they made a vow to figure it out and help him if they could.
***
Summer dragged on and the more worried that Ron became that he hadn’t heard from Harry since his attempt at a phone call, the double worried Fred and George became. When they finally couldn’t stand it any longer they Shanghai’d their younger brother and the family car in search of their friend.
Finding bars on Harry’s window had ignited Fred’s anger, he could see George was steaming too. But when the boy they had grown to care about came into view, it took everything they both had to remain their joking selves, knowing it would do more to keep him calm than rage would. Bruises littered the parts of his body they could see, and his face was drawn and sallow, the clothes he wore hanging off him. They helped him into the car and quickly collected his school things. Just barely back in the car when Harry’s uncle spotted them, Fred privately hoped that the man would hurt himself terribly when he fell out of the window. A glance at George and he knew his twin felt the same.
Their mothers banshee screech went over their heads, though they absently argued with her to avoid suspicion. Unsurprised that they were to be punished, they did not expect Harry to join them, especially when their mum offered for him to go back to bed. Eagerly the shorter boy followed the twins and Ron into the backyard to get rid of the gnomes. Fred was glad he had when the sad despondent face finally broke out into a grin and peels of laughter as he watched them toss the tiny creatures. Pleased with his reaction, Fred and George found the craziest and most inane ways to send them flying in hopes of causing the happy sound again and were successful.
Later in the afternoon though, the boy began to squint and grimace when he thought no one was paying attention. Mrs Weasley finally did and with some gentle coercion and possibly a little blackmail (not that their Gryffindor mother would admit to such a Slytherin tactic) he admitted he had a headache that was becoming unbearable. She ushered him over to the couch and got him laid down with a wet cloth on his head.
“Mum-“Fred began though he was really unsure how to finish the sentence, his worry overriding his generally quick wit. Though he never got a chance to say anything.
“Out of the way George, I need to get Harry some tea.” She waved her hand impatiently at Fred who glanced at his twin and tried not to feel the twinge of pain at being mistaken again.
“That’s Fred, Mrs. Wesley.” The three of them gaped at the figure on the couch who very clearly still had the washcloth over his eyes, glasses set off to the side.
“Right, sorry Fred. Please excuse me.” Clearly frazzled at both the correction and the sickly child, their mother buzzed off to do what she did best, create comforting food.
As the twins approached, they heard Harry’s breath slow and deepen. He had fallen asleep. Unwilling to wake him for something so trivial when he’d just stuck up for them, they slipped off to their room. If anyone noticed that the normally explosive events in their room ceased until Harry’s headache was gone, they never mentioned it.
***
“Why are you always bloody well sticking up for them?” Fred paused just before descending the stairs, slipping back in the shadows as he listened to his brother rage. He tilted his head just enough to see that the tall red head towered over his best friend, who was seated with his back to the staircase, hunched over his schoolwork. “I’M supposed to be your best friend!”
“How is telling you that it was George who spelled your pancakes to disappear sticking up for them?” There was a thread of anger in the normally mild mannered boy's voice, cold enough to take Fred’s breath away. Unfortunately it was also enough to ignite his younger brother's own temper further.
“Because it doesn’t matter! Fred would have done it too!” His face became blotchy, nearly as red as his hair, shaking slightly. It seemed that Harry was at the end of his tether as well.
“It DOES matter! Has it ever occurred to you that they may leave you alone if you bothered to figure out which is which?” His voice raised nearly as high as Ron’s and caused the other second year to gape at him in surprise before indignation took over again.
“No! Because they’re annoying prats whose goal in life is to make everyone around them miserable!” Fred tried not to feel the hurt bubbling in his chest at that. For the most part the Weasley Twins just wanted to make people happy, because they hadn’t always been that way.
“They don’t make me miserable.” Harry shot back, though he had turned back to his work, dismissing the other boy.
“Then go bloody hang out with them if you like them so much better!” Ron snarled and Fred prepared his wand to stop his brother when it looked as though he might become physical with Harry. While his muscles tightened and his fist jerked, causing the small dark haired boy to flinch, it seemed the movement was just enough to propel Ron to the portrait hole.
Fred waited until he heard it slam closed, before poking his head around the corner of the staircase and looking at the back of the dark haired second year. Harry’s shoulders shook, head tilted down towards the table, his misery almost tangible. The older boy wasn’t sure how to help, yet he found himself walking closer to the messy haired boy, hoping something clever would come to mind by the time he got there.
“Sorry you had to hear that, Fred.” Harry’s voice was a mix of regretful and exhausted, though he still faced the opposite wall.
“How do you do that?” Fred collapsed in the chair next to Harry and stared at him, forcibly closing his jaw when he realized he was gaping at the poor boy. Harry shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. “How do you seem to tell us apart so easily when nobody else can?”
Silence fell over the two of them, but Fred didn’t push it, seeing that Harry was trying to collect his thoughts. Glancing down to give him a little privacy, he noticed that the boy was working on a potions assignment and that more of it was scratched out than was finished.
“Did you know that you and George were my first friends?” Harry startled him out of his musings and it took him a moment to process what he said, before furrowing his brow. It didn’t surprise him as terrible as it was, that Harry had no friends while he had lived full time at the Dursley’s, but he couldn’t imagine how they had been his first friends.
“Wouldn’t that have been Ron?” He finally replied, confusion heavy in his voice. Harry looked up at him then with a sad smile that Fred wished he could wipe away forever.
“You introduced yourselves, you didn’t let my fame cloud your judgment of me, and you helped me with my trunk when everyone else just walked by. And you made sure I had someone to sit with, Ron told me that you told him of the compartment I was in.” His eyes were distant and his smile a little happier as he obviously thought back to that day fondly. “No one had ever been so nice to me before.”
“You’re more than your name or your fame.” Fred finally replied. “You know that right?” Harry shrugged glancing towards the fire crackling merrily in the fireplace.
“And you and George are more than twins.” His words struck Fred in the heart and he had to swallow lest he start blubbering and embarrassing them both.
Silence fell between them as they each got lost in their own thoughts.
“I don’t understand why it’s so difficult for everyone.” Harry finally spoke again and Fred gave him his undivided attention unsure where he was going with his line of thought. “It’s really easy to tell the two of you apart.”
“You think?” Fred hated how small his voice sounded and tightened his fist under the table until his nails bit into his skin, using the stinging pain to ground himself.
“Yea,” Harry smiled, reaching over and patting his other hand, still laying on the table, comfortingly. “Your eyes are a little darker and your hair's a little lighter. George’s voice is deeper and of the two of you he’s less likely to be serious no matter the situation. You take more risks on your broom and you both walk differently- oof”
Fred reached across and scooped the slight boy into a tight hug. He breathed deeply, unable to speak and hoped that the boy understood his intent anyway. Harry held himself stiffly for just a moment, before finally and slowly winding his arms around the redhead, squeezing him back. A couple seconds later another set of arms wrapped around them both.
“Thank you-“ George began.
“Harry.” Fred finished.