"Outsmarted the dogs? McGonagall's slacking and buying the cut rate dogs that had puppies with their own mums, isn't she?" George asked Charlie with a grin, feigning a grunt at the clap to his back and then shrugging. "Dunno. I can't picture anyone behind a desk. Except people who I met already behind a desk. Fredders and me got nutters if we have to sit behind the counter too long and don't make enough money that it's fun while we do." Making money made them more patient than they'd otherwise be. They weren't greedy materialistic bastards exactly - but they were the sons of a poor family. They understood the value of money and delighted in making boatloads of it by being more brilliant than anyone else.
He chuckled though. "Probably a bit less students getting their heads almost bitten off, these days, yeah?" Since Hagrid hadn't been the safest of teachers, even if he was a brilliant bloke, and had always been good for looking the other way while the twins snuck some whiskey into the castle or the like. He'd even distracted Filch a time or two. (Granted, possibly not on purpose, but George chose to think it had been.)
He kicked at Fred's arse as he walked by, payback for the punch. "Yeah, but he doesn't get us dragon dung for discount now. So he's a prat," he answered, throwing Charlie a teasing smile.
He got them out of Diagon. "Yeah. But you pay. The last time I tipped the driver a fortune and I thought he was going to snog me," he told Fred.