Fred and George Weasley stared up at the livid, pasty face of Argus Filch. The eleven-year-old twins glanced at each other, then turned back to the caretaker.
"Dungbombs in the corridors," Filch seethed. "Well, well, I'm sure I could settle a rather severe punishment for that, now, couldn't I?"
The twins blinked in unison. "Define 'severe'," George said innocently.
"Shall I add 'disrespect to staff members' to your crimes as well?" Filch said menacingly. "Now - don't you two miscrients even think about moving, I'll be back before you can say 'instruments of torture'." And he shuffled out of the room.
Seconds later, Fred turned to his brother. "Go." The two of them jumped up. George headed to the filing cabinets in the corner of Filch's office, Fred ran over to man the door. "Hurry up!" he hissed.
"Don't tell me to hurry up, I don't even know what I'm supposed to be looking for!" George muttered back.
"We've discussed this! Notes on previous offences, confiscated stuff... What's in there?"
"Very little."
"Well, keep looking."
"Let's see, let's see... No... No... Boring... Been done... Oh, puh-lease... 'Ello, 'ello, 'ello, what's this..."
"What? What?" Fred rushed over from the door.
"This," George said, holding up...
"...A piece of parchment," Fred said sceptically. "A blank, ratty piece of parchment. Why -"
"That's exactly my point!" George protested. "Why is it in here? Why does Filch want it? Why -"
"- am I cursed with an idiot for a twin?"
"Well, I'm keeping it."
"Fine, you do that."
"I will."
"I'm not stopping you."
"It wouldn't work anyway."
"Fine."
"Fine."
"Ssh!"
"He's coming back!"
"Sit down!" they said in unison. Both of them jumped over to their chairs, George stuffing the parchment into his robes.