One of them was a very old wizard who was wearing a long flowery nightgown. The other was clearly a Ministry wizard; he was holding out a pair of pinstriped trousers and almost crying with exasperation.
"Just put them on, Archie, there's a good chap. You can't walk around like that, the Muggle at the gate's already getting suspicious--"
"I bought this in a Muggle shop," said the old wizard stubbornly. "Muggles wear them."
"Muggle women wear them, Archie, not the men, they wear these," said the Ministry wizard, and he brandished the pinstriped trousers.
"I'm not putting them on," said old Archie in indignation. "I like a healthy breeze 'round my privates, thanks."

"Mad-Eye Moody?" said George thoughtfully, spreading marmalade on his toast. "Isn't he that nutter--"
"Your father thinks very highly of Mad-Eye Moody," said Mrs. Weasley sternly.
"Yeah, well, Dad collects plugs, doesn't he?" said Fred quietly as Mrs. Weasley left the room. "Birds of a feather..."

"I was saying that Saturn was surely in a position of power in the heavens at the moment of your birth...your dark hair...your mean stature...tragic losses so young in life...I think I am right in saying, my dear, that you were born in midwinter?"
"No," said Harry, "I was born in July."
Ron hastily turned his laugh into a hacking cough.

"Aaaah," said Ron, imitating Professor Trelawney's mystical whisper, "when two Neptunes appear in the sky, it is a sure sign that a midget in glasses is being born."

"But we're not stupid -- we know we're called Gred and Forge." -George Weasley

"Half an inch of skin and sinew holding my neck on, Harry! Most people would think that's good as beheaded, but oh, no, it's not enough for Sir Properly Decapitated-Podmore." -Nearly Headless Nick

 "Well, we were always going to fail that one," said Ron gloomily as they ascended the marble staircase. He had just made Harry feel rather better by telling him how he told the examiner in detail about the ugly man with a wart on his nose in the crystal ball, only to look up an realize he had been describing the examiner's reflection.

"You don't want to bottle your anger up like that, Harry, let it all out," said Fred, beaming. "There might be a couple people 50 miles away who didn't hear you."

"Well, I had one that I was playing Quidditch the other night," said Ron, screwing up his face in an effort to remember. "What do you think that means?"
"Probably that you're going to be eaten by a giant marshmallow or something," said Harry, turning the pages of The Dream Oracle without interest.

"Are you trying to weasel out of showing us any of this stuff?" said Zacharias Smith.
"Here's an idea," said Ron loudly, "why don't you shut your mouth?"
"Well, we've all turned up to learn from him, and now he's telling us he can't really do any of it," he said.
"That's not what he said," said Fred Weasley.
"Would you like us to clean out your ears for you?" inquired George, pulling a long and lethal-looking metal instrument from inside one of the Zonko's bags.
"Or any part of your body, really, we're not fussy where we stick this," said Fred.

As they climed the staircase, the photos of various Healers called out to them, diagnosing odd complaints and suggesting horrible remedies. Ron was seriously affronted when a medieval wizard called out that he clearly had a bad case of spattergroit.
"And what's that supposed to be?" he asked angrily, as the Healer pursued him through six more portraits, shoving the occupants out of the way.
"'Tis a most grievous affliction of the skin, young master, that will leave you pockmarked and more gruesome even than you are now --"
"Watch who you're calling gruesome!" said Ron, his ears turning red.
"The only remedy is to take the liver of a toad, bind it tight about your throat, stand naked by the full moon in a barrel of eels' eyes --"
"I have not got spattergroit!"
"But the unsightly blemishes on your visage, young master --"
"They're freckles!" said Ron furiously. "Now get back in your own picture and leave me alone!"
He rounded on the others, who were all keeping determinedly straight faces.

"Yeah, Montague tried to do us during break," said George.
"What do you mean, 'tried'?" said Ron quickly.
"He never managed to get all the words out," said Fred, "due to the fact that we forced him headfirst into that Vanishing Cabinet on the first floor."
Hermione looked very shocked. "But you'll get into terrible trouble!"
"Not until Montague reappears, and that could take weeks, I dunno where we sent him," said Fred coolly. "Anyway, we've decided that we don't care about getting into trouble anymore."
"Have you ever?" asked Hermione.
"'Course we have," said George. "Never been expelled, have we?"
"We might have put a toe across occaisonally," said George.
"But we've always stopped short of causing real mayhem," said Fred.
"But now?" said Ron tentatively.
"-- what with Dumbledore gone -- " said Fred.
"-- we reckon a bit of mayhem -- " said George.
"-- is exactly what our dear new Head deserves," said Fred.

*"You two," she waent on, gazing down at Fred and George, "are about to learn what happens to wrongdoers in my school."
"You know what?" said Fred. "I don't think we are."
He turned to his twin.
"George," said Fred, "I think we've outgrown a full-time education."
"Yeah, I've been feeling that way myself," said George lightly.
"Time to test our talents in the real world, d'you reckon?" asked Fred.
"Definitely," said George.
And before Umbridge could say a word, they raised their wants and said together, "Accio Brooms!"
Harry heard a loud crash somewhere in the distance. Looking to his left he ducked just in time -- Fred and George's broomsticks, one still trailing the heavy chain and iron peg with which Umbridge had fastened them to the wall, were hurtling along the corridor toward their owners. They turned left, streaked down the stairs, and stopped sharply in front of the twins, the chain clattering loudly on the flagged stone floor.
"We won't be seeing you," Fred told Professor Umbridge, swinging his leg over his broomstick.
"Yeah, don't bother to keep in touch," said George, mounting his own.
Fred looked around at the assembled students, and at the silent, watchful crowd.
"If anybody fancies buying a Portable Swamp, as demonstrated upstairs, come to number ninety-three Diagon Alley -- Weasley's Wizard Wheezes," he said in a loud voice. "Our new premesis!"
"Special discounts to Hogwarts students who swear they're going to use our products to get rid of this old bat," said George, pointing at Professor Umbridge.
"STOP THEM!" shrieked Umbridge, but it was too late. As the Inquisitorial Squad closed in, Fred and George kicked off from the floor, shooting fifteen feet into the air, the iron peg swinging dangerously below. Fred looked across the hall at the poltergeist bobbing on his level above the crowd.
"Give her hell from us, Peeves."
"And Peeves, whom Harry had never seen take an order from a student before, swept his belled hat from his head and sprang to a salute as Fred and George wheeled about to tumultuous applause from the students below and sped out of the open front doors into the glorious sunset. *

"S'up Figgy?" -Mundungus

He therefore had to endure over an hour of Professor Trelawny, who spent half the lesson telling everyone that the position of Mars with relation to Saturn at that moment meant that people born in July were in great danger of sudden, violent deaths. "Well, that's good," said Harry loudly, his temper getting the better of him, "just as long as it's not drawn out. I don't want to suffer."