A/N: In 'Magical Mayhem', I intend to stay as true to canon as I possibly can. I will try my utmost to portray the twins (and the other characters) exactly as they are in the books, and I hope I don't do too badly! If, at any point, you feel I got something wrong (canon facts or characterisation), I would love for you to tell me.

So, here it is: how I think the Weasley twins' years at Hogwarts, and beyond, were like. Hope you like!

Much thanks to my beta, Maiafay, for helping me and spotting the mistakes.

Prologue

It hadn't been entirely their fault; not really. Fred Weasley had to admit, it had been his and his twin's idea to put frogspawn into the teapot. But, George had protested as an angry Mrs Weasley held both of them by the ears, it couldn't possibly be their fault if their elder brother Percy failed to look into his cup before downing it. Personally, Fred thought his brother had a very good argument, but his mother didn't see it that way.

"Your own brother!" she shouted at them, dragging them by the ears to their room. "Frogspawn in his tea! Did it ever occur to you that it could have been poisonous? You could have poisoned your own flesh and blood!"

"But –" Fred began.

"He wouldn't have died," George said.

Mrs Weasley twisted his ear ("Ow!" George protested). "Oh, so it would have been fine if I had to send him to St Mungo's, then? Fine if your poor brother had been sick all over himself?" Fred snickered and got another twist in his ear as reward.

They reached the landing to the twins' bedroom. Mrs Weasley marched in and released Fred and George inside the brightly-coloured walls. Both of them rubbed resentfully at their ears, which were now an angry shade of red.

"You're both confined to your room until tomorrow. No dinner for you. I want you to think about what you've done to your poor brother. And mark my words, your father will hear about this when he gets home." She gave them a fierce look. "Shame on both of you! And –" She lifted her wand and various toys around the room shot into chests, which slammed shut and clicked with another flick of her wand. "No toys, I think."

"But, Mum…!" George said in dismay.

Fred opened his mouth to protest, but Mrs Weasley's glare made his words scurry back down his throat. She left the room, the door shutting behind her.

George sighed and climbed onto his bed. He settled himself cross-legged and turned to Fred, who was looking at him thoughtfully. "What?" his younger brother asked.

Fred seated himself on his own bed before answering. "This is your fault, you know," he informed his brother. He had a slight smile on his face, though, which told George he wasn't really serious.

"And how is that?"

"It was your idea."

George snorted. "You agreed it was a good one. And you carried it out."

"But you were the one who caught the frogspawn," Fred said.

"After you showed me where to look."

Fred grinned. "Okay, maybe it's my fault, too."

George threw a pillow at him. "Git." He caught the returning one with ease. "So what do we do now? Wait for Dad to come home and yell at us?"

"We both know he's not going to do that." Fred looked thoughtfully around the room, taking in the small window that overlooked the garden, the locked chests, George's bed on the other side of the room, the wardrobe, two trunks that were half-filled with books and school supplies, a chest of drawers that his mother had probably locked as well…

George leapt towards the drawers just as the thought to do so occurred to Fred. George tugged at the uppermost drawer: it did not budge. A split-second later he grabbed something off the top of the drawers and when he turned around Fred saw he was wearing the same wide grin he had.

In George's hands were two wands, both twelve inches long. One was made of willow, with a core of unicorn hair; the other, mahogany, with dragon heartstring. He held them up reverently; they'd gotten them only yesterday, and after all, to an eleven-year-old about to start his magical education, his wand was his most prized possession.

"Mum must have forgotten they were here," George said.

"I think I know what we can do now." Fred got off his bed and held his hand out. He got his wish immediately and as soon as his fingers closed around his wand, he felt that familiar warmth rush up his arm.

"Objection. We don't actually know any spells," George said.

"Ah, but we do have our very tattered, second-hand schoolbooks." Fred took out 'A Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1'. Its spine had been Spellotaped together. "In this case, I think it's third-hand." When he opened it he found tea stains on the table of contents.

George peered over his shoulder. "Let's try 'Alohomora'."

Fred made a face at him. "That's so boring! Come on, let's do this one, it makes sparks fly out your wand."

"Or," said George, "we could learn the spell that will help us unlock all these drawers and get to our toys."

Put like that, the decision was a no-brainer. Fred turned to page twenty two. "Oh, the words," he moaned. George hit him alongside the head. Fred rubbed at it and gave George a glare. "You read it, then."

Ten minutes later, George declared that he was now "learned and wise in the ways of Unlocking". Fred snorted but allowed his twin the first try. George stood up and pointed his wand at the chest that held their packs of Exploding Snap, Self-Shuffling Playing Cards and joke shop items.

"Alohomora."

Nothing happened. To make sure, George tried opening the chest. It didn't budge.

"My turn." Fred brandished his wand like a sword and gave a few complicated swishes. They were completely unnecessary, of course, but Fred liked showy things. "Alohomora!" he cried with a slight swish at the end of the proper wand movement.

There was a very loud bang and Fred found himself engulfed in thick smoke. He couldn't even see the walls of the bedroom. Beside him, George began to cough. Their mother's voice wafted up the stairs. "What in heaven's name is going on up there?"

"Uh oh."

The bedroom door burst open. In a few moments the smoke had cleared enough so Fred could see his mother, hands on her hips and looking very menacing. Peeping around the door was the small round face of his little brother Ron, who was trying and failing to stop his giggles.

"I suppose," said Fred in an uncharacteristically soft voice, "that we won't be getting food for the Hogwarts Express tomorrow, either?"

A/N: Hmm, what did you think? Reviews and constructive criticism very much welcome. If you think anything needs improving in the style of writing, I'd love to know.

Also, I feel I should issue a slight warning as to how often the story will be updated. This is the only story I'm working on, but updates may still be slow (usual reason of real life interfering), and I apologise in advance. That said, I do hope you've enjoyed it so far, and will continue to stick with me! Subsequent chapters are a lot longer than this prologue, which hopefully may somewhat make up for the slow updates.