Disclaimer: If I was J.K Rowling, the whole Harry Potter series would not exist because I would still be putting off writing the seventh chapter of the first book, and no one would ever write Harry Potter fan fiction. I also do not own the rules, which were written by someone that I do not know. If you do know who wrote these rules, please let me know so I may congratulate them.

Rule Number One:

I will not poke the Hufflepuffs with spoons, nor shall I imply that their house colors mean that they are "covered in bees"

Fred Weasley hefted his broom onto his shoulder. He glanced at his twin brother, George who was dragging a silk bag behind him.

"It stinks! I mean, we were supposed to win, now that we've got Harry and all. We are not supposed to be beaten by stupid, covered-in-bees Hufflepuffs."

George pitied that comment. He really did.

"Can't you think of anything cleverer than that, mate?"

Fred made a face. "I'd like to see you try. Hufflepuffs are just hard to insult, mainly because they usually just shrug it off. We need to get their attention. Poke 'em, maybe?"

"At lunch. We will make them regret winning this game."

Fred grinned, a maniac glint in his eye. "Now you're talking, brother of mine. But now we need to go see Harry in the hospital wing. Who's going to tell him about his broom, anyways? 1, 2, 3 NOT IT!"
George had known that was coming and just barely managed to equal Fred's speed.

Fred sighed. "Okay. We'll coerce Ronnie and his girlfriend into it. After all, they didn't say 'Not It' did they?"

"Good thinking," George agreed. He would've chuckled at the girlfriend comment, but he was not feeling like his normal troublemaker self today. He wanted revenge more than anything in the world right then. For Harry, for Ron, for himself, for the whole Gryffindor team!

"Badger?" suggested Fred suddenly.

"Um, what?"

"Badger. An insult for the Hufflepuffs."

George started laughing. "That's pathetic, mate. I'm disappointed in you."

Ron and his "girlfriend", Hermione, were standing next to Harry's hospital bed, worried looks on their faces. He still hadn't woken up.

"Here."

George tossed the silk bag that held the remains of Harry's faithful broom to Hermione, who just barely managed to catch it.

She peeked inside quickly, as if afraid that it would explode. Knowing the twins, it may have on any other day.

"Ah," she said softly. "How on earth did you manage to get it?"

"Trade secrets," Fred replied at the same time that George said casually, "Flitwick got it down for us after the match."
Both turned on one another and yelled "Traitor!" at the exact same time.

"Shhh," hissed Madam Pomfrey, bustling by. "You'll wake him up, and Merlin knows he needs rest."
"Too right," murmured Fred. "That many dementors? That high up? It's a wonder he's still alive."

Alicia Spinnet, from the other side of Harry's bed, added hoarsely "It was easily the scariest thing I've ever seen."

George opened his mouth to reply, but shut it quickly again as the formerly unconscious hospital patients' eyelids fluttered open.

"Wuzgoinon?"

"Harry!" boomed Fred over energetically. Madam Pomfrey shot him a glare and he whispered, "Harry! How are you feeling?"

"Bleh," came the reply.

"We were all so scared, Harry. We thought you were a goner for sure," said Katie Bell softly.

Harry looked rather uncomfortable. "Did someone get my Nimbus?"

Fred and George exchanged looks. "Erm," they said as one.

"Well, uh, after you fell off . . .it kept going." Ron mumbled, shifting uncomfortably.

"And it hit- oh Harry- it hit the Whomping Willow," whispered Hermione, breathless.

Harry stared.

"And," Ron plowed bravely on, "You- you know, the Whomping Willow doesn't really like to get hit. . ."

Way to state the obvious, Ron, George thought.

"Flitwick collected it after the match," finished Hermione in an apologetic tone. She tugged the bag open and emptied the splintered contents onto Harry's bed.

Fred and George both remembered how awful it had been, seeing a perfectly good broom reduced to that pile of wood clippings.

They knew, just from the look on Harry's face, that it was a thousand times worse for him.

He had not only lost a fine broom, but a loyal and faithful friend.

And the twins, despite common belief, were not soulless people.

They would give him some time to mourn.

Fred and George were two very different people. They were quite similar, yes, and they certainly looked alike, but they were two different beings. They were not one person, and they were not one mind.

However, it is possible for even two of the most different of people to share a thought, and these two were no exception.

Now was one of those times, but not completely.

George continued to remember Cedric Diggory diving for the Snitch even after Harry had fallen off his broom, and the look on Harry's face as he saw the remains of his Nimbus kept running through Fred's head.

But, really, it all boiled down to one thing, one word.

Revenge.

On the Hufflepuffs, to be more specific.

On the stupid Hufflepuff Seeker, Cedric Diggory, to get even more specific.

The Hufflepuffs may have been difficult to annoy, but since when had Fred and George quit just because something was difficult?

And if they couldn't think of any better insults than covered in bees, than that's what they would say, by Merlin!

The dastardly duo began to plot immediately. There was no need for discussion.

It wasn't really a prank.

A good prank had fireworks and professors diving for cover and mayhem and pandemonium. (Yes of course there's a difference between the two.)

This had no fireworks, no impressive displays, not even any magic.

But it did involve a spoon, and the spoon was quite shiny, and rather a nice spoon.

The spoon was currently in Fred's possession, his hand wrapped around it.

And George was crossing his fingers that Diggory wouldn't tell the rest of the school that the infamous Weasley twins had stooped to poking people with spoons and immature insults.

Oh, the humility.

Fred readied himself. His target was perfectly positioned. Cedric Diggory's back was right there, in excellent range. He was wearing his Quidditch robes, probably just to rub it in.

The git.

The spoon went for the back of said Quidditch robes before Fred was really ready, but how ready did one have to be to poke someone with a spoon?

You really only needed a spoon.

Poke.

No reaction. George scowled and snatched the weapon of choice from his brother.

Poke.

Fred sighed and grabbed another random spoon from the table.

Poke. Poke.

Cedric turned.

"Excuse me," he said, maintaining his polite façade. "Could you please quit poking me? It's getting annoying, see."

Fred and George exchanged looks of glee. Hey, mission accomplished, right? They annoyed a Hufflepuff!

"Oh, sorry," replied George, trying not to laugh.

"See," added Fred, "We thought you might appreciate it."

"Trying to get the bees off." George was really having a tough time keeping a straight face.

"They must be right annoying." Fred was getting into it now, maintaining his own polite mask.

"Does it hurt?"

"Do they sting?"

Cedric looked confused. Fred and George looked serious, which just goes to show that looks can be deceiving.

"And, most importantly. . ."

"How come they're so attracted to you anyways?"

"Oh, I know, dear brother!"

"Do tell then, dear brother."

"It's because you're all so sickeningly sweet!"
"Oh, that must be it!"

"Makes sense, doesn't it?"

"Okay, we'll cease poking you at once."

"Wouldn't want to deprive the bees of their daily nectar now, would we?"

"Not at all, not at all! Come along then, dear brother."

"Yes, yes, coming, dear brother!"

Hufflepuffs may have been nice, but they could give a killer stink eye.

Needless to say, the twins nearly fell over one another in their attempt to escape.

As soon as they had exited the Great Hall, they began laughing.

"Mate," gasped George, eyes filling with tears of mirth, "That was easily the stupidest thing we've ever done!"
Yes, the infamous Weasley twins had stooped to poking people with spoons and immature insults.

Really, the whole thing was extremely stupid.

That, however, didn't stop one Minerva McGonagall, whom had heard and seen the entire thing, to take ten points from each of them, and gave them both a severe warning that if they ever disrespected another House again, it would certainly be detention.

They said they wouldn't, but both boys were already plotting many adventures that involved Slytherins and butter knives.

Ah, well. You can't make a leopard change his spots.

Author's Note: I'm not entirely certain about the ending- please let me know what you think! This chapter, by the way, was mostly written by Slabie, but parts of the beginning were written by Banjo. The next rule will also be written by Banjo. See if you can spot the changes in writing style.

Please review!

-Our Mismatched Socks, mostly Slabie.