Hi, so this story follows four generation of Hogwarts; Marauders, Fred and George, the trio and then Rose and Scorpius. It's just a four-shot kind of thing that came to my head.
This is the second part. You don't have to read the first part to understand it. :) I hope you enjoy it.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, or any of the characters, I just love Harry Potter.
The Book for the Future: Second
26th March, 1994
Fred and George Weasley were rarely in the common room without causing mischief. Today was no different.
Midnight had come and gone, and the twins were still rummaging around in corners of the common room that seemingly hadn't been cleaned for years, moving chairs, sofas and rugs around.
What were they doing? They were searching for secret passageways; they refused to believe that there were really only seven.
"Try the fireplace!" Fred commanded to his brother as he tried to prise the notice board from the wall.
George nodded, before studying the bricks on the wall and pulling at one or two loose ones.
Fred sighed as he gave up on the notice board and began to pull the arm chair back to where it had originally been before beginning to flick his wand aimlessly.
He heard a noise that sounded like a brick falling, and turned to see his brother with his arm halfway into the fireplace.
"Fred, I found something!" George said excitedly, before pulling his arm out of the hole in the wall with a large cloud of dust. "It's not a passageway but-"
"It's a book." Fred said disappointedly.
"Yes, but it's an old book!"
"I'm not sure our family should hang around books; just look at Ginny-"
George, not listening to his brother, had sat on the nearby armchair and opened the cover of the book.
"'Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs present The Book for the Future.'" He read aloud, boredly.
"Did you just say Moony and Wormtail?" Fred asked, running to his side.
"Yeah."
"They're the guys who wrote-"
"The map!" George exclaimed, realisation dawning on him.
He meant what he'd said once; the twins really did owe a lot to the guys who had written this, even if they had given their map away before Christmas.
"Well, what does it say? Any more passageways?"
George read the smaller writing underneath. "Fred, I think it's meant to be some sort of diary. It says that generations of marauders are meant to write in it-"
"Then we'll find out who they are." Fred smiled, urging his brother to turn the page and see who his idols really were.
"Remus John L- Proffessor Lupin?" George exclaimed, having turned the page to see the name of their defence teacher. "Professor Lupin is-"
"A werewolf. Look at everything he's written; he's a werewolf!" Fred yanked the book from his brother and turned the page impatiently.
"I was reading tha- James Potter?" George leant over his twin, so they rested the book on their knees between the two of them and read the paper below them.
"'Fear; to lose the loyalty of my friends'. That's a bit ironic isn't it?" Fred suggested sadly, staring down at the scrawny writing. He could hardly believe that James Potter had been one of the marauders; he could hardly believe that he was reading something that was written by someone who was dead, but shouldn't be. "The message is to his children; do you reckon we should tell Harry?"
George nodded, looking equally mystified by the book below him. "We will later."
They both knew they'd forget; they were forgetful at the best of times and weren't likely to see Harry Potter since he was so busy learning how to tackle dementors, being hunted by a mass murderer and trying to stop Ron and Hermione kill each other.
Turning the page, they were both unimpressed by Peter Pettigrew's entry; they agreed that it may as well not be there. On the top of the next page, however, was a name they didn't expect to see; Sirius Black.
"I can't believe he- He wrote the map?" George exclaimed; he didn't bother saying Sirius' name since Fred was bound to be thinking the same thing.
"Yeah, he did." Fred shook his head, unable to believe that Sirius was a Marauder. He had always admired Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs; they seemed like the kind of people Fred and George could get on with. Fred refused to believe, however, that one of those boys had grown up to be a friend-betraying murderer, the other a werewolf and the other two were dead as a result of their friend. He shook his head, reading the fears of a murderer.
"He was scared of Voldy. Why would he join him then?"
"Maybe that was the easiest way." George suggested, sighing.
Fred turned the page slowly, not wanting to see Sirius' name glaring up at him any longer.
He turned it to an empty page, though. Flicking through, he found that there were no more entries.
"Harry's the only one who can write in this, isn't he?" George realised out loud. "Lupin doesn't have any children, Peter's dead and Black's been in prison for ages so…" His voice trailed away as he looked down at the blank pages.
The twins weren't big on writing; they hated school essays and exams, and anything that required them to string words together. Their mother had a theory this was because they couldn't write togetherand they hated doing anything without the other.
Something about the pages in front of them willed to be written in, though; they had rotted away for almost twenty years, wordless.
"I think we should write in it."
"Really?" George asked his twin, sounding a little like his own conscience.
"Yeah, because… Just because."
The understood each other; they wanted their memories preserved on paper the same way James, Peter, Lupin and Sirius were.
Fred stood, and began searching the common room for a pen. He eventually found one under a desk, and sat back down next to his brother.
Entries of Honorary Marauders, not related but big fans, George watched his brother write.
"You go first." Fred sat up, holding the pen out to his twin.
George didn't know what to write, though. He didn't know what he hoped or feared, or what he would send as a message. All he knew was today; that was the way the twins lived. They didn't think about tomorrow or the future; the consequences of their actions didn't tend to matter, they just cared about spending each day laughing together.
Hope
George wrote carefully under his name, feeling his brother's eyes on him. I hope the future is full of laughter, and that I put some of that into the world.
"Nice." Fred commented. Normally, he would point out how very girly his brother sounded, but today he didn't really think it was appropriate; the two of them felt similarly sentimental.
Fear: Something bad happening to my family; I wouldn't want to lose my Mum's great cooking now would I?
George read what he had written back, and realised that anyone who read it would understand him perfectly; he'd used jokes to cover up his fear, as always.
Message: How many Quidditch players does it take to light up a wand? Six to work their arses off and a seeker to take all the credit. See, I'm funny!
"That's the worse joke ever." Fred laughed to himself, reading what his brother had written.
"I'd like to see you do better." George dared, to which Fred pulled a face and took the pen.
He leant over the book at an angle that meant George couldn't read what his brother was writing, only listen to the fire crackle and wonder what time it was by now.
Fred, on the other hand, was scribbling his hopes and fears on paper, surprised at how little consideration it took.
Hope: To have twin little boys and make them just as cool as George and I.
Fear: To have no one around to laugh at my jokes.
"My message is so much better than yours." Fred laughed as he leant back, handing the thick book to his brother with a satisfied smile.
"'How many Voldemorts does it take to light up a wand? None, why do you think he's called the dark lord?' Fred, that's rubbish." George laughed, standing up.
"Call it even?" Fred suggested, following his brother to the fireplace. "So now what, we just put the book back?"
"Yeah, and then someday someone will find it like we did."
Fred agreed, and watched as George squashed the book back into the gap and then placed the brick precariously back into it's place.
"No more secret passageways, then." George sighed as the two boys headed up to their dorm for some sleep minutes later.
Fred shook his head, knowing that he and his brother were both thinking the same thing; they'd found something far better than a secret passageway tonight.