Tonks groaned in the frustration as she stormed and by miracle not tripping on her feet’s to the twin’s bedroom where she didn’t bother to knock and simply walked in. “Alright, which one of you shirked my favorite boots with one of your pranks? Not to mention the spikiness of last night, I know it was one of you.”
The twins were huddled over a small cauldron on the floor, from which a plume of very purple smoke was steadily rising. As Tonks entered, George started, dropped his wand in it, and swore.
“You know, do you?” said Fred through his laughter as he cancelled the heating spell on the cauldron. “And just how d’you know that? Ron’s a notorious boot thief back home, y’know.”
“Wouldn’t put it past Sirius, either,” George suggested. “Seems awful fond of boots.” He extracted his wand carefully and made a face. Unsightly slime was running off it in rivulets.
“Or Hermione,” Fred added. “After all, they’d hardly fit any of us, now, would they?”