Originally written for the Pen15 is Mightier's Writing Competition (April 2018).

Golden Quill Winner - Best Romance

Thank you to my beta's Nymphadorable and ladygrangerdanger for helping me with this story!

The phrase 'I don't try to get into trouble; trouble comes to me' was fittingly emblematic of Harry Potter's life thus far. For fifteen years – largely, though not entirely, through no fault of his own – trouble had followed Harry relentlessly. It followed him all the way to Hogwarts, into girls bathrooms with trolls and secret chambers with basilisks, into the Forbidden Forest with giant, murderous spiders and into darkened graveyards with Dark Lords and Death Eaters.

Trouble was Harry's bread and butter. So it really should have come as no surprise to anyone that the summer before he was due to start his fifth year at Hogwarts that trouble would find him yet again. This time however, the source of Harry's woes did not come in the shape of some dark creature or Lord Voldemort. Indeed, the root of his troubles was much closer to home in the form of two identical, mischievous redheads.

It was an accident, of course.

The twins had set up camp in one of the many spare rooms in Grimmauld Place conducting 'experiments' of an unspecified nature. Sirius had been happy to lend them the space – a marauder at heart, he saw the Weasley twins as kindred spirits of sorts, and believed that their mischievous talents ought to be encouraged and nurtured – with or without Mrs. Weasley's knowledge.

And they would have gotten away with it, too, if it hadn't been for Harry. His unbridled curiosity had gotten the better of him this time.

Nobody saw it happen, and Harry in his current condition was in no fit state to explain. What was clear was that the Weasley twins had been experimenting with the creation of numerous products for their current enterprise, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, and were currently developing what appeared to be an anti-aging cream.

"We have a tagline and everything ready for it," Fred had explained to Harry who peered curiously into the cauldron bubbling with silvery liquid. "The posters will read 'Don't just turn that frown upside down – banish it entirely with the Wrinkle Eradicator – rapid wrinkle repair for the mature witch!"

"Of course, the cream will do nothing of the sort," grinned George with a malicious glint in his eye. "The customer will appear to age rapidly instead. The effects wear off eventually."

"Hmm," Harry leaned over the cauldron to expect it more closely. Gas bubbles broke the molten surface, spitting Prussian blue steam and globs of potion up into the air.

"Careful there Harry," warned Fred. "You don't want to get any of that on you."

"Yeah, it's still in the preliminary stages of development," explained George. "So far every concoction we've made doesn't age you, it's makes you youn—"

"What on earth is going on here?" rang a sharp voice.

George and Fred spun around and stood shoulder to shoulder in a vain attempt to disguise the bubbling cauldron from their mother's view.

"Nothing," they chimed unconvincingly.

"The day you two are doing nothing is the day hell freezes over!" she chided, approaching them. Although she was at least a head shorter, the twins shrank under their mother's withering gaze. "I've had it up to here with you two and your nonsense! I'm not sure I even want to know what it is you're up to this time."

"Honestly, it's nothing," lied Fred.

"We were just mucking about," George assured her.

"Yeah, we were just showing Harry what we were doing and—" Fred turned and paused. "Where's Harry?"

George turned to face the cauldron, but Harry was gone. The twins' eyes fell to the ground and they grimaced at a pile of clothes that now lay on the floor, rustling and whimpering. Mrs. Weasley peered over their shoulders frowning.

"What is it?" she asked. She stared in confusion at the bundle of clothes for a moment, then glanced between her two sons and back at the pile again before all the colour drained from her face and she sank to her knees, "Merlin's Beard!"

Mrs. Weasley lifted a baby free from the bundle of clothes. The baby had black, messy hair sticking out in all directions, emerald green eyes, and a thin red scar on his forehead. He was naked except for a curious dollop of silver potion smeared across his chubby cheek.

"Harry?" asked Mrs. Weasley tentatively. Baby Harry grinned a broad, toothless grin and laughed.

"We've done it this time, Fred," muttered George forlornly.