Never Tickle a Sleeping Draco

GinnyWazlibRocks

Despite many hopes, dreams, prayers to who ever above, and the "most defiantly" answer on my Magic 8 Ball, I do not own the Harry Potter books, or what other random references that have either coincidently or not been spotted in this fic. Curses.

Please don't judge too harshly. Seriously, I was not dropped on my head as a baby, though you may think so. I realize that they're most likely not in character most of the time, but it they were, they wouldn't call this a humor fic.

But I shall tarry not! I will stop this freakish rambling and give you the story that may crack your ribs from laughing, (this is my goal. Please don't sue), or emotionally scar you. (Again, legal action isn't nice.)

Read on!

Oct. 24, Friday

6:45 pm

Today is the day. The big one. The day we've all been waiting for. Today George and I will be going undercover and sneaking into the Slytherin House to prank Malfoy. This diary-ahem-expedition journal is our link to the outside world. It is the only thing reminding us that we are no Frank and Gary, suspiciously identical but not twin, brothers.

This mission will be dangerous. It will be hard. If we don't make it our, this diary-ahem-expedition journal will tell the world of our victories, should we not make it back to tell it ourselves.

Right. George needs me to help pack our arseic supply. Apparently one vile just exploded over the pumpkin juice.

This is Fred, signing off.

Oct 24, Friday

10:30 pm

Audio Recording

Click. Static, then heavy breathing. Footsteps echoing faintly.

Fred: We're in the dungeons, approaching the common room. We learned from a secure source where it's located.

George: Harry, if you're listening, thanks!

Fred: Hey! That was supposed to be a secret! Now all the Slytherians will want to kill him!

George: I figured that since half the world already wants him dead, 50 more people aren't going to matter.

Fred: Fair point, well made.

Footsteps continue for five minutes, and then stop.

George: Ready, Fred?

Fred: Ready, George.

George: Alohamora!

Fred: You know, it's really quite easy to break into here.

George: I know. No barking dogs, no tin cans, no gel thumbprint scanner…we should've done this years ago!

Fred: Yeah…Let's have codenames!

George: Um…What?

Fred: I'll be "Fox Stalker"!

George: Aren't you Frank?

Fred: But that's no fun…

George: It's fine.

Fred: But-

Cat meows, making both twins gasp.

Fred: Darn it! We need to reach safety! Filch is sure to be here soon!

George: You're right. Quick, in!

Creaking door, fabric rubbing against the speaker. Click.

Oct 24, Friday

11:57 pm

We have safely reached safety. After passing through the hideous common room without attracting too much attention, aside from the small incident concerning one punching telescope and a priceless work of enchanted Greek pottery we found private rooms in one of the many, many hallways. Our disguises went unnoticed, and we even managed to locate Malfoy's dorm. All and all, hopes are high, and we are to go ahead with plans tomorrow morning.

Scratch that last part, as it now is tomorrow. As much as tomorrow can ever really be, for it shall never actually be tomorrow, just as we will never be in the future…-

Ah, screw it. I'm going to bed.

This is George, signing off.

Oct 25, Saturday

12:05 am

I've acquired this diary-ahem-expedition journal from my now snoring brother. The reason being is for a small correction: It said, "Hopes are high". Actually, hopes are mildly high, as the Slytherians don't seem to like us very much. Apparently it was a very special piece of pottery.

But still, we shall continue with the mission. I can't illustrate further, for risk of this being discovered by enemies while my comrade and I doze. However, if we are still functional by evening, you will know…you will know…

This is Fred, signing off.