"Never pray for justice, because you might get some." - Margaret Atwood.

Fred and George were uncharacteristically silent as they made their way to dinner. Business was going well, but the success of their products and mail order service made the demand for new bits and pieces even greater.

The proprietors of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes were stuck. They had plenty of ideas, but they needed a new candidate to test things on. Someone who wasn’t a) a first year or b) Neville Longbottom.

As they were debating the problem – or, at least, debating which Slytherin they should choose – the twins came across a very odd sight.

Skipping down the corridor, with her back to them, was a blonde fourth year blissfully ignorant of the older student levitating an unopened package out of her back pack.

It was odd only because both the perpetrator and victim were Ravenclaws, and because there seemed to be no real motive. Magical trickery in itself was nothing new at Hogwarts. But it was also very useful, because Fred and George found their new test dummy without even having to look very far.

It was all too easy, really, to replace the box of stolen sweets with a box of canary creams. The chirping and flurry of feathers coming from the great hall a moment later was very satisfactory.

“The new batch seems to be working well,” Fred commented.

George nodded. “So are we. Someone needs to keep an eye on the poor and unprotected of Hogwarts…”

***

The twins took to their new role like Nargles to mistletoe.

“You know, Fred, I think we’ve finally found our true calling,” George commented, as they watched a disgruntled – and green haired – Hufflepuff fifth year stalk across the Great Hall. He’d laughed at the blonde girl’s earrings.

“Definitely,” his brother agreed, “Using our talents for good, rather than…”

He paused. ‘Evil’ seemed too strong a word.

“I’d go for ‘bad’,” George said, after considering the use of the word for a while, “It’s not like we’re even doing anything particularly wrong.”

The Hufflepuff was now heading towards the hospital wing.

“Well…”

***

A few months later, they met the girl they protecting face to face. It wasn’t all that hard to see why people teased her.

She was balmy. And that, as Fred often pointed out, was putting it mildly. Luna seemed to have a sign pinned to her back, proclaiming ‘hex me; I’m different, and too sweet to get annoyed’. It was as clear to everyone else as Snorkacks were to her.

Still, they were Weasleys, and they had sworn to look after her. The twins would never go back on their word, and she was rather nice. When you got to know her.

To nice to enact her own revenge, that was for certain. It was lucky, really, that Fred and George had no such scruples.

It was also a good job Madam Pomfrey was rather adept at removing antlers from students. They didn’t suit Draco Malfoy at all.

***

He was a distant relative of Fleur’s, so obnoxious he was being given a wide berth my all the Weasley wedding guests. Even Aunt Muriel didn’t speak to him, and she was so infuriating herself that she tended not to notice it in others.

Fred and George, however, saw this as reward rather than punishment, and were watching him from a distance, waiting for a chance to strike.

“’ave you seen what she is wearing?” he remarked, in a loud whisper, “Not even proper dress robes! And ze colour!”

There was a chorus of laughter, and Fred ground his teeth. It was obvious who they were talking about. She was currently dancing over to one side, arms raised above her head, blissfully unaware of the insults.

“She mus’ be insane, if you ask me…”

And then, just like that, he crossed an invisible line. Yes, she was loony. But she was their loony.

Fred and George exchanged glances that would have sent Hogwarts students running for their lives (or at least running until they were out of the range of any exploding toilet seats). A few minutes later, the Frenchman in question had hair that was a rather spectacular shade of yellow. Just like Luna’s dress.

***

Luna was racing for the astronomy tower. In theory. In reality, she was simply trying to get to a place where she was needed, preferably without getting killed in the process.

Skidding on shards of broken glass, Luna narrowly escaped death at the hands of a burly, masked Death Eater struggling to fit through the window he’d just smashed. She stopped herself falling, but her palms ended up cut to ribbons, and the sticky blood made it impossible to grip her wand properly when she tried to fight back.

With a gasp, she ducked a jet of red light, avoiding death by inches, yet again. The Death Eater, now safely inside the castle laughed, sensing triumph. He probably would have found it, too, if Fred and George hadn’t been nearby, securing one of the many secret passageways around the castle. Ever Luna’s guardian angels, they hit him with a hex so powerful that he flew back into the wall and fel, at least temporarily, still.

Luna didn’t get a chance to turn and thank them. More Death Eaters were pouring in. She could hear shouts and screams from further ahead, and didn’t pause for a second, simply hurled herself back into the fray after wiping her palms on her robes.

“That’s gratitude for you,” remarked Fred with a laugh. “Think I should go after her?”

“I’ll finish here,” said George with a nod, “Be along as soon as I can. Save at least one good Death Eater for me?”

“I can’t promise anything, if you’re too slow,” Fred laughed, waving at his brother before jogging off to join Percy, who was hastening down the corridor in the same direction as Luna.

Write about a conversation when what you said wasn't what you were thinking.

August hadn't been as warm as usual. In fact, it had been downright cold, with unseasonal fog and very little sunshine.

Despite the poor weather, and even poorer circumstances, Luna was still packing for Hogwarts. Her father sat on the end of her bed, watching as his only child piled odds and ends only she would consider packing into an already bulging trunk.

It was all too normal. The Ministry had fallen. Albus Dumbledore was...gone, so Hogwarts was probably no more than a shell of what it had once been. The wizarding world was crumbling around them, and although Luna wasn't actually in the centre, she was too close to it for Xenophilius.

"I don't think you should go back to Hogwarts," he said, suddenly. It was a moment of uncharacteristic seriousness, so much so that Luna dropped the gurdyroots she'd been holding all over the carpet.

The worst thing was that she knew his worry was not unfounded, even before he present the carefully constructed argument he'd prepared.

Hogwarts had always been considered safe (or at least as safe as a school for under age, untrained hormone-driven witches and wizards could ever be). Regardless of external events, the students within had always learnt in safety and security.

Things had changed over recent years, of course, what with the Chamber of Secrets, and then that business with Sirius Black. But over all, Hogwarts had remained steadfast.

Now Severus Snape was in charge, with You-Know-Who pulling the strings.

Though she wasn't a Gryffindor, Luna was braver than a lion when she had to be, and smart to boot. It wasn't that Xenophilius didn't think she could look after herself. It was just that you only had to glance at the paintings on her wall to see how much she cared for her friends.

She'd died for them. And, since of those friends was Harry Potter, the chance of that happening was worryingly high.

These were all things they both knew.

What Xenophilius didn't know - or didn't want to admit he knew - was that asking such a question was fruitless. Luna had opened up when she'd found herself actually having friends, like a flower which had been waiting for just the right burst of sunlight. She'd no more betray them than stop breathing.

"I'll be fine," she assured him, and, even though she was thinking the absolute opposite, she knew it was worth the risk.