"Peeves! It better not be you, Peeves. Wait till I take you to the headmaster!"
The angry shout of Filch, the Hogwarts caretaker, was heard by almost all the students in the first floor landing. A minute later, the door to his office burst open and he came swishing down the corridor. The coarse thread of his gown barely managed to brush the floor as he limped towards the commotion.
"Dung bombs, my sweet," Filch said in a soft voice. "This will do him in. When the headmaster hears of this, he'll get thrown out. Dung bombs in the first floor. Gah!"
Mrs. Norris, his cat, purred her response, twirled around his legs and bounced away ahead of him, hoping to catch the culprit red handed. Filch followed her, his breath coming in pants, and disappeared from sight.
Barely a minute had passed when a snigger came from the hidden tapestry opposite his office.
"I told you this would work!"
"Of course I never doubted that, Fred," another voice added in a wry tone, "Lee did, not me!"
Two gangly, red headed boys poked their heads out. Having cleared that the coast was clear, Fred came out from his hiding spot, dusted his robes and moved towards the door. George followed him, not bothering to keep the smile off his face. The twins made their way to door, pulled it open, and after ensuring that the corridor was empty, they quickly went inside Filtch's office and shut the door.
The room was a dingy and dark, filled with the paperwork of all the students who had been to detention. Cat fur lay in the corners and a small lamp with a blue flame brightened the room.
George moved to one of the racks. His steps sounded familiar, as if he had trodden across the same room multiple times even though it was only his first year at Hogwarts. Removing his wand from within his robes, he gave a quick jab and muttered Alohomora.
The rack came open. It was filled to the brim with detention slips: for wandering the third floor corridors after midnight, for setting Professor Snape's eyebrow's on fire, for kicking Mrs. Norris down two flights of stairs, and even one for wandering the Dark Forest during the day hoping to catch a werewolf. They all have one thing in common: the name George Weasley.
"Blimey George," his twin muttered from behind, before rolling his eyes at the detention slips. "You only have one rack. I'm halfway through my second."
George gave a grin in his twin's direction, before closing it.
"You were sloppy and got caught by Filch. You fault for being the less intelligent than me. I never told you to!"
But Fred has already lost interest in this conversation and was focused on the task at hand.
He took out his wand, jabbed it at the locked drawer and muttered the incantation. Nothing happened. After glancing at his twin, Fred produced two small, black, hairpins from within his robes and brandished them from under the light.
"Got this from Angie," Fred told George, before inserting the two ends into the lock. "She taught me how to open locks the muggle way. Figured we'd need it." Positioning his hands in an awkward manner, he rotated his wrists a couple of times. After a few moments, there was a loud click and the lock came open.
"Quick before Filch comes back!"
George moved forward, lifted the piece of parchment and placed it inside his robes. Fred locked the case and the twins left the room in a hurry.
"You better work, you stupid piece of parchment."
It was two weeks after the theft. While the stealing had been interesting, the aftermath was a failure.
They had seen Filch placing the piece of parchment in that drawer during their last detention. He had tried waving at it, tearing it into piece and even licking a corner, but nothing had worked. They had also heard him talking to Mrs. Norris about the 'map' which showed where everyone was. Having put two and two together, Fred and George had decided to steal the map and use it.
The first time they had turned their wands on the it, words had appeared in black ink and spread across the parchment.
Mooney is getting annoyed at all this poking. Wormtail suggests you take a hike and turn this over to smarter people. Padfoot wants you to stop poking your nose in this business and got act like good little boys. Prongs wishes you knew what it felt like sticking a wand up someone's butt.
This had only made them want to crack the secret open.
After weeks of useless wand jabbing, they were at a loss of what to do.
Sitting alone in the empty dormitory, they decided to try making it work. The other first year students were still at dinner or in the Griffindor common room.
Fred sneezed his nose in the red sweater his mother had knitted him, before turning back to the task at hand.
"Show me the map of Hogwarts." Jab.
"Where is everyone?" Jab.
"How do you work?" Jab.
"Where am I? Jab.
Messer Mooney wants you to stop acting like a brat. Wormtail hopes you get amnesia and forget about this map. Padfoot is tired of waiting for you to come to your sense. Prongs says of course you are here, but wishes you aren't.
"You better come clean." George poked the map again, showing all his frustration with that one movement. "I'm a red head, and there's a reason behind it. I've got so many tricks inside my hat and Filtch hasn't even seen half of them. I swear I'm no good."
"And if you don't work, we'll burn you to crisps."
Mooney hopes you'll solemnly swear instead of rambling on. Wormtail wishes you'd burn us to crisps to prevent us from listening to such uninteresting rambles. Padfoot fails to understand who you'd continue yelling when you have already solved half the puzzle. Prongs agrees with Padfoot and wishes you'd get on with it.
Fred looked at the shock reflected in this twin's face.
"Did we do it?" he whispered.
"Yes," George answered. "Yes, I think we did. Together?"
"Together."
"We solemnly swear we are up to no good."
And an entire world of opportunities opened before their wide eyes.