The moment the flash of blue light burst from the Goblet, you knew something had gone horribly wrong. One second Fred and George were smirking like they’d just outsmarted Dumbledore himself; the next, they were on the floor, groaning, their hair turning white before your eyes.

Fred blinked down at his gnarled hands. “What the—?”

George scrambled up on shaky knees, wheezing. “This—this wasn’t supposed to happen!”

“You said it would work!” Fred shot back.

“You said it would work!” George snapped, pointing a wrinkled, accusing finger at his twin.

They half-lunged at each other, but it was more like two elderly gnomes trying to fight—slow, awkward, and honestly a little sad.

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake,” you muttered, hurrying between them before one of them dislocated a hip. “Fred, come on. You’re going to the hospital wing.”

“I’m fine,” he grumbled, straightening—then immediately clutching his back. “Alright, maybe not fine.”

You looped your arm through his, feeling the strange frailty in him now. “Come on, before you break something else.”

He let you lead him away from the growing crowd, still muttering about “bloody brilliant ideas” and “treacherous goblets.” But halfway down the corridor, the fight left his voice, replaced by that familiar mischievous lilt.

“Well,” he rasped, voice crackling like parchment, “back in my day, they didn’t make Triwizard Tournaments this complicated.”

You shot him a worried look. “Seriously, Fred. What if it’s permanent?”

“Then you’d better get used to this face,” he said cheerfully. “This beard. These wise, sagely eyes. When we’re in our eighties, I’ll look exactly like this.”

“You’re making jokes while you can barely walk.”

He patted your hand with exaggerated grandfatherly pride. “That’s because I’m a brave old soul, love. You’ll be knitting sweaters while I prank our grandchildren and cause small-scale chaos in the retirement ward.”

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, tightening your grip when he stumbled slightly.

He winked. “And yet, you’re still here, escorting me like a loyal lass. Might even deserve a medal for it—though I’ll settle for rewarding you with a kiss once Pomfrey fixes me up.”