Well... when we were in our first year, Harry – young, carefree and innocent –" One-shot, set two years before Harry, Ron and Hermione go to Hogwarts. April Fool's gift.
Here is your April Fool's gift: my first Harry Potter fic! Well, one-shot, but who cares? Suitably, it features the Weasley twins who were born on this day 37 years (or maybe ears) ago.
In loving memory of Fred Weasley, and George Weasley's missing left ear: 'ears to you.
As the light of yet another grey, wet day faded a little, the magical flaming torches of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry burst into life, the flickering flames casting warm, yet eerie, shadows on the walls and floors. The rumbling sounds of people's voices could be heard from distant rooms and floors, as students waited for their lessons to end.
A loud, gong rang out, magically amplified, signalling the end of lessons. As black-robed students poured out of the classrooms, a noisy chatter filled the air, accompanying the stampede of people fighting their way to the Great Hall, where dinner was waiting for students and staff alike.
In the midst of all this chaos, three small figures could be seen, fighting their way through the throng of people. Though undoubtedly first-years and usually overlooked, the three students were easily set apart from the crowd. Though two of them had flaming red hair and the other dreadlocks, all three wore broad grins, contrasting starkly with the glum and dismal looks on everyone else's faces.
"Ready, Gred?" asked one of the redheads, pulling something from depths of his robes.
"Definitely, Forge," agreed the other, no doubt his twin, as he, too, pulled something from his pocket. They nodded at the black boy, who vanished into the crowd, disappearing from sight.
As one, the two first-years dropped the balls they held in their hands. The glass casing smashed on contact with the floor, causing several heads to turn in the direction of the two first-years. For a moment, it seemed like nothing was going to happen, like the whole exercise was pointless. Then, a foul stench arose from the remains of the smashed balls, quickly filling the corridor.
Gagging noises erupted, as the inhabitants of the castle breathed in the smell; several people seemed to sprout huge bubbles around their heads as the sea of people surged towards the nearest staircases. A cry of, "Dungbomb!" could be heard over the stamping of feet and coughing of people. The two pranksters themselves were sporting pieces of white cloth covering their mouths and noses; they were clearly magical, as no Muggle object could have kept out the putrid odour, which smelled of rotting eggs, sewage, and what smelled distinctly like decaying flesh.
Before a minute had passed, the third-floor corridor was virtually empty, except for the two troublemakers. Then, a pair of yellow, lamp-like eyes appeared, peering around the corner, fixing the two boys with its stare. Then, a skeletal cat appeared, its dusty fur almost indistinguishable from the walls of the castle. "Uh oh," muttered one of the red-heads, nudging his twin. "Time to run, d'you reckon, George?"
"Definitely, Fred," replied George, slowly backing away from the cat towards the wide, marble staircase.
Before either of them could move another step, however, a harsh, wheezing noise interrupted them, and Argus Filch, the school caretaker appeared from behind a tapestry depicting the hump-backed Gunhilda of Gorsemoor stirring a cauldron.
"Filth!" bellowed Filch, advancing on the twins, a twisted look to his face. "As if I hadn't got enough to do without you two dropping dungbombs all over the place! You've had it; this is the final straw!" He paused to cough and, even in their predicament, Fred and George had to stifle grins. "Follow me, Weasley!" Filch barked, turning away.
"Which one?" enquired Fred, in a tone of feigned politeness. This set the caretaker of again, his bulging eyes turning on the twins.
"Both of you! And don't try anything, or you'll be sitting in detention for a month. I might even hang you from the ceiling, hanging by your ankles, if the Headmaster finally allowed it..."
Gloomily, Fred and George followed the caretaker, who disappeared down the flight of steps. Before he descended, however, Fred took a good mental note of Gunhilda's tapestry, making sure to try the secret passage later.
The stairs were well-lit, but the sky outside was now completely dark. Filch was still muttering to himself, and Fred could have sworn that he caught the word 'disembowelment'. He had heard, though, from Bill, Charlie and Percy, of Filch's idle threats and, instead of feeling threatened, was just wishing that they could go and join Lee for dinner in the Great Hall.
When they entered the Entrance Hall, however, Filch led them straight to his office, which was opposite to the Great Hall. Through the double doors to his left, Fred could hear the babble of voices as the rest of the school tucked into dinner, and his stomach started to rumble. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a satisfied look settle upon Filch's face as he opened the door to his office.
Once inside, Fred's eyes had to adjust to the dim light, the source of which was an oil lamp hanging from the ceiling. There were no windows in the room, though, as it was now pitch-black outside, they wouldn't have helped anyway if there had been any. Filch shuffled to the far side of the room, rummaging around in his desk for something. In the meantime, Fred noticed some manacles hanging from the wall above the caretaker – and even in the poor light, he saw that they appeared to be polished very well. Fred gave a small shudder – perhaps it was not a myth that Filch wanted to suspend pupils from the ceiling.
Filch's head having not yet emerged from the depths of his desk, both twins had the time t fully take in their surroundings. Now that his eyes had adjusted to the light, his eyes fell upon the filing cabinets which lined the walls. Most of them seemed to be records of the various wrongdoers that Filch had caught and punished in his time as caretaker. However, there was a filing cabinet set apart from the rest, and Fred's eyes immediately fell upon a drawer labelled Confiscated and Highly Dangerous.
At that moment, he felt a hard nudge in his side, and turned to see George jerking his head towards the same drawer. Fred nodded and smirked at his brother; he mimed dropping a dungbomb, stopping when he noticed George doing the same. Fred's grin grew wider; even if they weren't talking to each other, each twin could tell what the other was thinking.
Finally, Filch straightened up, clutching a bottle of ink, a quill and a roll of parchment in his hands. "Now then," he muttered, dipping his quill into the inkpot. "Names... Fred and George Weasley..." A nod of the head from George, and Fred moved as quickly as a snake. He leapt towards the drawer and pulled open the drawer at the same time as George dropped another dungbomb.
His hand came into contact with a piece of parchment and Fred grabbed it, stuffing it into his bag. He slammed the drawer shut and Filch roared, "WEASLEY!" He lunged at Fred, who dodged and slipped out of the doorway to join George, who had already escaped from Filch's office.
They both sprinted up the stairs, with the sound of Filch's voice calling after them. "I'll get you for this, Weasley, I'll get you for this!" Fred heard his feet clattering up the stairs and, knowing their time was limited, the red-head ripped aside a tapestry and dashed up a hidden staircase, pulling his twin along.
They continued up the stairs, still running, until Filch's furious shouts could no longer he heard; he had evidently not expected them to know a secret passage already. Only when they knew they were along did they slow down, panting as they made their way up to Gryffindor Tower. "Aurum Leo," Fred and George gasped, as they came face to face with the portrait of the Fat Lady, who swung open to allow them through.
The Common Room was deserted – everyone else was still at dinner. Fred's previous appetite, however, had completely deserted him, as he pulled out the parchment from his bag and laid it flat on the table. To his disappointment, however, it was completely blank. George, who had sunk into an armchair, grabbed it and turned it over, but the other side was empty too.
"I don't believe it," whispered Fred disbelievingly, his voice hoarse, as he fell into an armchair. "All that effort for bit of old parchment!" George groaned as he too saw that the page was devoid of any markings whatsoever.
"Surely, not even Filch would be stupid enough to label this as 'dangerous'?" he asked examining the parchment, his nose almost touching it as he scrutinised it.
"Maybe we have to cast a spell on it," suggested Fred, pulling out his wand. He tapped the parchment lightly with it. Though they had, as of yet, only learnt a few spells in class, growing up in a magical household had introduced both of the twins to all kinds of charms, spells and hexes from an early age. As soon as they had arrived at Hogwarts, Fred and George had been practising spells from their textbooks in the common room and their dormitory.
Now, as he focused hard, Fred muttered "Aparecium!" but, to his dismay, the parchment stayed stubbornly blank. He looked to his twin for ideas, only to see that George was waving his own wand at it at random, twirling it around. This, however, had no more effect on the parchment than Fred's revealing charm.
"Oh, this is no good!" exclaimed George, tapping the parchment with his wand. At once, inked lines appeared on the parchment, spreading out a little, like a spider's web, before flickering and dying. Both boys jumped to their feet so fast, that they banged heads.
"Ow!" they chorused at the same time, rubbing their foreheads where they had bumped into each other and grinning.
"Hello?" asked George, tapping the parchment. This time, however, there was no reaction, and his shoulders slumped visibly. Fred, on the other hand, had another idea.
"Maybe," he murmured, thinking hard, "maybe it's not a spell we need, but a phrase. Maybe, whoever drew on here thought that most people would try a spell –"
"– and so made sure that only a phrase –"
"– like a password –"
"– could open it!" they finished together, triumphantly.
"So 'no good' is probably part of the password," said Fred, filling with new hope.
For the next half hour, the two of them poured over the parchment, trying all sorts of phrases with the words 'no good' in them. Occasionally, other parts of the parchment flared up with ink briefly, before fading again, but they were no closer to solving the puzzle. At one point, Fred, who had been running his fingers through his hair so much that it stood on end, stabbed the parchment with his wand, which erupted into flames. However, when they picked it up to inspect the damage, the twins found that there was none; the parchment wasn't even singed.
Loud footsteps broke into their thoughts, and the portrait hole swung open to admit Lee Jordan. He stopped at the sight of his two friends with their wands out, pointing at a table. "What are you two up to?" he asked, a little warily. He had been friends with the Weasley twins for long enough to know that they weren't above tricking anyone, not even their friends.
Fred answered with the two words he had been saying for the last thirty minutes; "No good." At once, he heard a gasp escape George's mouth, and Fred turned to see that half the parchment had exploded into life this time, and he caught a glimpse of lines and moving dots. Now, he knew what the parchment hid – a map. And right at the top, words had been written. Fred grabbed the map, trying to read the writing, but it had already faded from sight.
Lee obviously thought they were playing a prank on him, as he backed away slowly, saying, "Right..." he hoisted himself through the portrait hole and, with one last, suspicious look, he disappeared through the way he had just come. The moment he had gone, George pounced on the map that was still in Fred's hand.
"How can a map be 'highly dangerous'?" he asked, incredulously, staring down at the once-more blank parchment.
"Up to no good..." Fred muttered, watching as the inked lines appeared again. This time, he managed to read one word of the writing: Map. He settled back into his chair and started muttering phrases once more.
Ten minutes later, however, more people were arriving from dinner, and the Common Room was getting crowded. Under normal circumstances, the twins would have been in the midst of the fray, entertaining everyone else with their antics as Percy looked on disapprovingly from behind his horn-rimmed glasses. The challenge of solving the password to the map, however, overpowered all of their other instincts.
As more and more people joined, and the red and gold room got rowdier and rowdier, Fred got up and headed towards the door. Unnoticed by everyone else, he and George disappeared up the spiral staircase and, when they reached their dormitory, it was mercifully empty. George collapsed on his four-poster with a small groan of frustration. "Are we ever going to solve this, Gred?" he asked his twin.
"Not if you just lie there doing nothing," retorted Fred, his eyes glued to the hidden map once more.
A minute passed. Then five. Then ten. Half an hour. An hour. An hour and a half. Two hours. Still the map remained stubbornly invisible. At several points, George had resorted to punching the map with his fists, before jabbing it with his wand and punching it some more, but to no avail. "If the map doesn't hurry up and fully reveal itself, I swear I'm going to kill –" He broke off as a different part of the map revealed itself, and Fred saw small dots moving around on it, each with a tiny label.
"Are those..." George started asking Fred's unspoken question, sounding unsure.
"People," finished Fred. "Yep. Or at least, I'm pretty sure they are. Unless there are random dots labelled Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall for no reason."
"So... D'you reckon 'kill' is part of the password?" George asked. They both looked to the parchment, but it gave no sign of life.
"Evidently not," sneered Fred, in such an uncanny impersonation of Snape that both twins had to laugh. Once it abated, Fred's tone became solemn again. "But seriously, George. What exactly did you say?" The red-head's brow furrowed as he tried to recall his words.
"I swear," he began, uncertainly, and lines blossomed on the page once more.
Punching the air victoriously, Fred strung the words together. "Up to no good, I swear. Up to no good, I swear," he chanted but, although almost the entire map was revealed, if was visible only for a brief moment. George now took up the chant, changing it slightly.
"I swear that I'm up to no good. I swear that I'm up to no good," he repeated over and over. Yet again, the parchment burst into life. However, this time the map was revealed for a good ten seconds before it vanished once more. Now it was clear that each labelled dot was a person, and Fred saw Filch prowling the corridor on the third floor where the dungbomb had been dropped.
The twins groaned in chorus. "There's still something missing," hissed Fred in annoyance, sitting down on the edge of his bed. Before either of them had time to wonder what was absent from their phrase, they heard footsteps on the stairs, alerting them to the presence of students going to bed. Hastily, George stuffed the map into his bedside cabinet just as their dormitory door opened.
Almost automatically, both twins pulled out their wands, pointing them at the figure in the doorway. It was Kenneth Towler, their roommate. A small, blonde-haired boy with no self-confidence, he backed away at the sight of the two wands pointing straight at him. The fact that both twins were glaring at him, Fred realised, probably didn't help either, but he was too irritated to care right then.
"Right," began Kenneth, glancing around nervously. "I'll just be going, shall I?" His voice had risen higher as he spoke and, after a moment, he turned and fled down the stairs, leaving the two redheads in peace.
Another twenty minutes later, more and more people came traipsing up the stairs, and the two Weasleys decided to go down into the now slightly emptier common room. They settled themselves at an empty table near the fireplace, which filled the earthy room with a warm glow of red, orange and yellow hues. Shadows danced merrily of the walls and floor and, not for the first time, Fred was glad that he had been sorted into Gryffindor. This was home – almost more so than the Burrow.
Though the common room was emptier than it had been when they had left it, there was still enough noise to hide what Fred and George were doing. Fred spotted Lee making his way to bed, still watching them warily, awaiting a prank of some sort. Fred smiled mischievously: he certainly wasn't going to correct that notion.
It seemed that finding one more word was harder than finding the rest of the phrase. The problem was, thought Fred, that they didn't know where the other word had to go – it could have been anywhere.
After another half hour of trying different words in different places, including the phrases 'I swear that I am up to lawful good', 'I, Fred Weasley, swear that I am up to no good' and even 'I swear that dungbombs are up to no good', with no results, Fred slumped back in his armchair, feeling defeated. Maybe this was why it had been labelled as 'Highly Dangerous', he though dismally, glancing around the common room. It could drive you insane, trying to guess the password.
Spotting Percy coming over to them, Fred nudged his twin. "Watch out," he whispered, as their elder brother bore down upon them.
"What are you two doing?" Percy asked suspiciously, peering through his square spectacles at them.
"Nothing! Just homework," lied George, shifting in his seat to block the parchment from his older brother's view. Not seeming to believe them, but not wanting to cause a fuss either, Percy made a small "Hmph," noise and stalked away, still eying them distrustfully, rather like Mrs. Norris did.
Almost an hour later, Fred and George were the only ones left in the common room, and the fire had died down, reduced to glowing embers. Drowsiness was starting to take over Fred's body and he had been on the verge of nodding off on several occasions.
Finally, at around midnight, they solved it. Fred had come up with the phrase 'I seriously swear that I am up to no good', but it was George who had perfected it with 'I solemnly swear that I am up to no good'. Grinning broadly at their success, both twins realised even then that they had found their most important guide to rule-breaking: The Marauder's Map.
So, how was it? Feedback is much appreciated, either positive or negative. Any flames will be used to set fire to the wood in my fireplace and keep me warm!
Oh, and for those of you for whom it is not too late:
Pinch, Punch, First of the Month! (No returns!)