All their savings had been confiscated, and the twins' wails went on for a very, very long time.
But no matter how miserably they cried, Molly did not soften in the slightest.
She knew her mischievous twins far too well. If she simply gave everything back, they would only become even more outrageous.
They had spent this entire summer holiday tinkering away in their room. Next year, they might blow up the house.
She had to be cruel, and she had to stand firm.
At last, exhausted from yelling, the twins finally accepted their fate.
But those had been pranks they had painstakingly researched—great inventions they had painstakingly developed—not to mention countless precious materials and Gold Galleons.
They shuffled into a corner of the compartment and began calculating their losses.
The more they calculated, the dizzier they felt, as though the sky were about to fall.
Ones, tens, hundreds, thousands...
Their losses came to nearly 30,000 Gold Galleons—enough to buy almost two brand-new Firebolts.
"No..." The twins' wails echoed through the entire compartment once again.
Vincent, who had just sat down, shook his head.
It was better to keep a low profile. The more one showed off, the more likely something was bound to go wrong.
See? Someone had already paid a heavy price for it.
After a brief period of grief, the twins reflected on their mistakes and decided that even with nothing left, they would rise again.
Fred pulled five silver Sickles and three bronze Knuts from his pocket, while George managed to find one Gold Galleon.
With so little startup capital, they could at most make a few Weasley Whiz-bangs for fun.
If they wanted to continue researching those great inventions, they would need at least dozens, if not hundreds, of Gold Galleons.
The twins stared mournfully