DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, who isn't me. The only profit I get from this is personal satisfaction.
Up to No Good
"You never cease to amaze me, Charlemagne," Mundungus said once George told him that he not only befriended Aberforth, but managed to make him his employer. They met near the place they 'reunited' in Knockturn Alley, where no one would overhear them. It wasn't the best arrangement, but Dung wasn't allowed in the Hog's Head and George didn't have money to go anywhere else in public yet.
"And before I forget, here are the sickles I owe you," George said as he passed over a pile of Knuts that he got from tips working at the Hog's Head. He wouldn't get payday for another couple weeks, but there were enough people who were grateful to be served by a younger, not always grumpy, face. "I don't want to jeopardize my position just yet, but within a month I'll start making contacts that you should find useful."
"Sure, Charlemagne. Also, while you're working, an old friend of mine is looking for someone new in magical Britain. Don't know much, but he does have a raccoon Patronus. I know it ain't much to go on, but…"
Dumbledore's looking for me? Of course he is… At least Mundungus probably thinks I'm not a suspect. "My eyes and ear will be open," George said.
"You didn't destroy your ear on purpose, did you?" Dung asked.
"Story for another day," George promised.
"I'll hold you to that," Mundungus laughed. "Boy, am I glad you're not dead. Do you know what I believed your fate was?"
"Drowned in Azkaban with a Dementor chasing me with a spear crying, 'What? How is it that I can speak now?'" George suggested.
"Close. Drowned in Azkaban with you still unable to cast a stinking Patronus. I mean, even I've got a corporeal one now."
"You've been practicing?" George asked innocently.
"Most people would ask 'what's the form?' first. Not you, Charlemagne—don't ever change," Dung laughed. "And yes, I've been practicing in case I ever find myself in need of something in the depths of Azkaban. You know how they say Gringotts or Hogwarts are the most safe and secure places on the planet? Provided that you can deal with the Dementors, I say Azkaban wins hands down and someone will realize this sooner or later."
"I forget where I heard it," George said—which was true—"but someone said that Barty Crouch Junior escaped Azkaban with his mum's help."
"And that's where it becomes apparent that you haven't been keeping up," Mundungus said. "Both of them are dead."
"That's just what they wanted us to think. A dying woman goes to Azkaban and swaps places with a convicted felon, using Polyjuice to make sure no one notices, and she dies looking like the felon. It's a high cost, but no one suspects it. If you don't care that the world knows you've escaped, then you can always try sneaking out as an Animagus."
"If I ever find either of those happening, I will give you a trunk of galleons," Mundungus laughed.
"Can I get that in writing?" George asked.
Mundungus' eyes narrowed in suspicion. "If you've got plans in motion, I don't want to set myself up to fail."
"I have some plans," George admitted, "but none directly involve escaping Azkaban." Yet.
"And that clinches it. No gold for you."
A Handy List of George Weasley's Plans (non-exclusive)
1. Attain trust from younger Fred and George
2. Find and destroy—or rather get Dumbledore to destroy—Voldemort's Horcruxes
3. Sneak into Hogwarts and get ingredients and directions for brewing Polyjuice, Veritaserum, and any other useful potions. And make Weasley Wizard Wheezes products, of course.
4. Construct timelines for James Oliver and Charlemagne identities
5. Reveal Pettigrew as a rat and/or encourage Black's escape from Azkaban
6. Befriend Death Eaters and other ne'er do wells and persuade them to keep away from Dark Lords
7. Earn money for anything else needed
8. Volunteer at St. Mungo's sometime
9. Be patient
After a month of Hogwarts, Fred was starting to understand why the Saintlike One offered to sit History of Magic. The class was absolutely dull and every student had fallen asleep at least twice. The Saintlike One could do whatever nefarious plans he had once everyone else was bored out of their skulls and asleep or requiring other stimulation—whichever would serve the Saintlike One's purposes more. Fortunately, as best as Fred could tell, George's body was inhabited only by himself since the last time Fred summoned the Saintlike One, so he didn't have to deal with the abomination.
The Slytherins, on the other hand, were getting creative with their treatment of George (or whoever they believed to be George). Fred still refused to let George sleep in the Slytherin Dungeons. Fred and George, with some help from Lee Jordan, had gone to war against the House of the Serpent. Although they hadn't been permitted to do much wandwork yet, they found they were able to adapt potions to useful ends, such as making the Slytherins who liked to be somber in public act downright giddy at breakfast and vice versa. Fortunately, they'd only had detention three times, though Filch's was their least favorite—cleaning the trophy room. Fred believed that Filch swept up dirt from all over the castle and spent his free time caking it on the awards. The only good thing to come out of the detention was tangible proof that Tom Marvolo Riddle existed, though why a model student would become the darkest wizard of all time was a mystery to Fred. Perhaps it was a sign that pranking wasn't a path to darkness like Mum always said.
Fred decided—and George and Lee agreed with him—that it would be a public good to give Filch and his cat something to worry about in his own office. After finding out about a prank from some sixth year Gryffindors, the trio made their way to the caretaker's office, knowing that he'd be screaming at the world for at least a couple hours elsewhere.
"I still don't see how this'll work," Lee said.
"This was made by Professor Dumbledore," George said as he held out his replicating vial. "I've been keeping pumpkin juice in here—"
"Which neither of you ever drink," Lee pointed out.
"It's for emergencies," Fred explained. Even though the Saintlike One allowed other people to know about him, Fred and George hadn't told Lee yet—they hadn't even told Charlie yet, who they decided would be the first to know when they built up the courage to. The Saintlike One was probably right about the amount of care they should take with the secret of his existence.
"Right, because you never know when you're going to need to drink your least favorite drink," Lee said as he rolled his eyes.
"Anyway, it'll replicate to full once the top closes," George continued. "Whatever we put in will fill to the top."
"And that's why you had me get all of this stuff?" Lee asked as he pointed to his bulging bag.
"Yep."
"Wicked."
And so, after the twins checked to make sure the hallway was clear one last time, Lee cast "Alohomora" on Filch's office door and the three troublemakers let themselves in. Lee placed a bit of stinkweed in the vial and George closed and opened it, and poured it onto Filch's desk. Lee and George repeated the action with a bit of cat hair. Fred took the opportunity to look around for anything interesting. In a cabinet drawer labeled "Confiscated and Highly Dangerous" he found a bunch of doodads and knickknacks. A blank piece of parchment, however, is what interested Fred the most. There was no logical reason for it to be banned and yet, apparently, it was. By this time, the desk and floor were covered in cobwebs, little round metal balls, salad dressing, dust, earwax, and twenty other annoying things.
"Come on, let's get out of here before he gets back," Fred said as he hid the parchment in his robes. The trio, under Fred's leadership, fled the premises.
"What did you find?" George asked once they were back in the safety of the common room.
"A confiscated piece of blank parchment," Fred explained. "Any ideas on how to reveal its secrets?"
"We can always ask it," Lee suggested. Fred and George exchanged glances. Before the Saintlike One, they probably would have done the same thing, but accidentally unleashing powers of darkness was not something either wanted to do. Fred regretted even taking it.
"It shouldn't be too evil," George said slowly. "I mean, Dumbledore would have been taking care of it if it were, not Filch."
"Exactly," Lee agreed. He pointed his wand at the parchment and asked, "will you tell me about what you do, please?"
"Are you sure it'll even understand you?" Fred started to ask when lines appeared on the parchment.
Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs greet you.
Mr. Moony would like to compliment your politeness in asking and wonders what you would use this document's secrets for.
Mr. Wormtail is also curious about your motives and would like to add that you can't trust anyone once you learn the purpose of this document.
Mr. Padfoot is glad to learn that future generations of Hogwarts may be served by this document and would like to remind everyone that if you aren't having fun, something has gone siriusly wrong.
Mr. Prongs would like to correct Mr. Padfoot's spelling and encourages you to be persistent in your conquests.
We are the Marauders. We leave this parchment to those at Hogwarts who want an edge on staying out of detention without forsaking what magic is all about.
"What in Merlin's name is this?" Lee breathed.
"Is it one of You-Know-Who's You-Know-What's?" George asked Fred.
"I don't think so. I think it's like a magical riddle for us to solve." He placed his wand on the map. "Can you tell us anything more about how to get this thing to work?"
There will be four tests, one from each of us about things we've learned about life which will tell us if you're worthy of the secrets of this parchment. If you succeed, the parchment will be unlocked as long as it is used at least once a year. If you fail, we will have to insult you, as there isn't any other form of punishment available to us.
Are you ready?
"Lee, you do it," Fred said. He didn't want something to go wrong with George, but Fred had to remain clean of potentially dark magic to keep a check on the Saintlike One. That meant getting help from their new friend.
"No, let me," George said. "I'm already tainted, it's not like this could make things much worse."
"No one really thinks you are a Slytherin," Lee pointed out, obviously not understanding George's true meaning.
"Are you sure, George?" Fred asked.
"Yes," George replied and he tapped his wand on the piece of parchment. "I am ready for your test."
Mr. Prongs will start with his test.
Think of something or someone that you believe in. Is it an ideal, a thing, a person, or a group?
"A person," George whispered.
Now imagine this person has decided you aren't worth their time. You discover this person might be in danger. What do you do?
"Tell him."
They ignore you.
"Keep bugging him."
They attack you for continuing to bother them.
"Take it and beg him to listen."
They seriously injure you. You can no longer contact them.
"Do whatever it takes to keep him out of danger."
They insist you stop trying to help them.
"Keep helping where he can't see it."
Persistence. Selflessness. You have passed the first test. Mr. Padfoot will give you the second test.
"I'm ready."
That which you believe in is sick and there is nothing you can do to help.
"Look for a cure."
There is no cure.
"Keep him company."
They've fallen into despair.
"Keep him laughing, or smiling at the very least. Even if I have to resort to stupid jokes."
You're making it worse.
"Let him know I care about him and want him to get better."
They die.
George paused. "Try to live for him."
Loyalty. Optimism. You have passed the second test. Mr. Wormtail will give you the third test.
George waited. The parchment began writing again.
Pretend I am someone seeking to destroy that which you believe in. What do you tell me?
"I don't know where he is. Maybe you should try looking behind the curtains at St. Mungo's—they might be hiding him."
I don't believe you.
"I'm telling the truth!"
Anyone can claim that, but I know you're lying.
"I'm not lying! I don't know where he is!"
Tell me the truth.
"Fine, I'm lying. But I won't tell you where he is."
I'm now an authority figure. I also seek for that which you believe in. What do you tell me?
"I can't tell you."
There are rules which state that you must tell me what I need to know.
"Those rules are broken then. I'm not talking."
I will provide you with funds you require dearly.
"I can't risk it."
You will be sent to Azkaban if you refuse to cooperate.
"Then so be it."
Rebel against authority. Lie when necessary. You've passed test number three. Mr. Moony will give you the last test. Are you ready?
"Do your worst."
That which you have believed in has betrayed you and fallen to darkness. What do you do?
"Remind him of who he really is."
They attack you.
"Let him."
They are about to destroy you.
"Keep trying to break through to him till the end."
You're in the afterlife and they shortly join you. They claim to have repented of their error.
"Forgive him and apologize for not doing enough to help him."
Forgiveness. Purity of heart. You have passed the final test.
George heaved a sigh of relief. Fred would have hugged him if Lee hadn't been watching, so he patted his twin on the back instead.
"I really wish you weren't around here to see that," George said.
"Why? I have every right to know what you face," Fred said.
"You don't have to keep babying me. I can handle things without you sometimes."
"Hey, you two," Lee said, "the parchment looks like it has a lot more to say."
Fred and George looked down and read the messy script.
We now apologize for the somberness throughout the tests and hereby decree that you will never have to be subjected to our torture again. We only made the tests so as to protect this parchment from wizards who would abuse it in the name of evil—or worse, prevent its use entirely.
The parchment you hold is the Marauder's Map. It is as perfect a map of Hogwarts as can possibly exist and it never lies. We encourage you to use this map to bring laughter and chaos to those around you—especially teachers who have forgotten that magic is all about having fun.
The password to activate the map is one which few would utter intentionally: I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.
To deactivate the map, say, "mischief managed."
This is our gift to Hogwarts. Please use it in a manner which Peeves would approve of.
"How does a map help create chaos?" Fred asked.
"Well, let's find out," Lee said. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."
The designs of the map began spreading across the parchment. The first thing to catch Fred's eye was names and dots moving around. He quickly found Gryffindor Tower and, sure enough, he, George, and Lee were all properly identified. "If this is accurate," Fred said, "this means that we will never have to worry about unexpected visitors sneaking up on us. Not getting caught is probably a fine way of making more mischief."
"Honestly, Fred," Lee said, "it should have been you who got Sorted into Slytherin instead of George."
"I wasn't," George said. "Neither of us were. The Sorting Hat Sorted someone else."
"Are you sure you want to tell him?" Fred asked.
"Charlie graduates next year, but Lee will be there for us much longer than Charlie or anyone else will," George said. "We can't keep secrets from him."
"And now I'm confused as I was the day we met," Lee said. "I don't care if you two have your own secrets—Merlin, you're twins, you know each other better than anyone."
"No, George is right," Fred said. "We trust you and we need this secret known to someone else, just in case something goes wrong." He took a deep breath. "George has been periodically possessed by someone who calls himself the Saintlike One. For reasons neither of us understand, he comes or goes whenever I drink pumpkin juice. That's why we have vials of pumpkin juice on us at all times but we never drink from them. The last time we saw him was a couple days after we got to Hogwarts, when he made it so that any of us could get pumpkin juice in my mouth. Fortunately, he hasn't abused his ability (as far as we can tell, anyway), but we don't have any good reasons to trust him. He either knows way too much or is trying to get a lot of bad information to Dumbledore."
"Can I meet him?" Lee asked.
"Why would you want to do something like that?" George asked. "He's absolutely crazy."
"It's possible that he used to have the Marauder's Map. If he did, he would have had to prove that he was a good person. And besides, I'd like to know what to expect if he ever takes over George unexpectedly."
"Alright," Fred said as he took his vial from his pocket. "Ready, George?"
George was in the Gryffindor Common Room and Fred and Lee Jordan were both staring at him.
"Could you not stare at me, please?" he asked.
"Did it work?" Lee asked. "Are you still George?"
They told him? George wondered. "As much as I've always been," George shrugged. "Fred, do you have any suggestions?"
"Maybe I didn't drink enough," Fred said as he went for his vial of pumpkin juice again.
"No, it's okay," George said with a smile. "I'm Saintlike."
"You're actually him?" Lee asked.
"I told you I'd act like George if I ever switched in front of someone else," George told Fred with a smirk.
Fred scowled. "And it wasn't obvious that I brought you out to show Lee you exist?"
"Sure it was. I just wanted to show you that I can convince people I'm George whenever it's necessary. Hello, Lee. I am known as the Saintlike One. I would like to take this moment to insist that I am not a dark wizard and that I will protect you should it ever become necessary. Fred, I reckon you should warn me in advance whether you want me to act like myself or like your younger brother. Say something with 'saint' or 'saintlike' after drinking pumpkin juice if you want me. Say nothing if you don't. If you can't talk, I'll figure it out by context."
"Can you show me something George can't do—just so I'm sure you're not both having me on?" Lee asked.
"Sure. Expecto Patronum." The silvery-white raccoon emerged from George's wand.
"Wicked."
"And, just for your information, this is a NEWT-level spell. The youngest person I know to have produced a corporeal Patronus was 13 at the time and he was something else. He personally faced a Dark Lord seven times, if I count right, before sacrificing himself."
A Handy List of Harry Potter's Confrontations with Lord Voldemort
1. Harry Potter, age 1, versus Lord Voldemort. Harry wins with Lily's blood magic.
2. Harry Potter, age 11, versus Quirrelmort. Harry wins with Lily's blood magic.
3. Harry Potter, age 12, versus Tom Riddle. Harry wins with Basilisk fang.
4. Harry Potter, age 14, versus Lord Voldemort. Harry wins (with losses) with Priori Incantatem and Portkey.
5. Harry Potter, age 15, versus Lord Voldemort. Harry wins (with losses) with purity of heart.
6. Harry Potter, age 16, versus Lord Voldemort. Harry's wand wins (with losses) with Priori Incantatem experience.
7. Harry Potter, age 17, versus Lord Voldemort. Harry sacrifices himself and wins with Lily's blood magic.
8. Harry Potter, age 17, versus Lord Voldemort. Harry totally wins and Voldemort kills himself with the Elder Wand.
"What kind of Dark Lord fighters do you hang out with?" Lee asked George.
"Only two of them, nowadays," George replied, thinking of Aberforth and Mundungus. "They gave up when things got rough and it probably saved their lives."
"That's horrible!" Lee said.
George shrugged. "I never said they didn't make up for it later. Both were very important in bringing the Dark Lord down."
"Are you talking about Grindelwald?" Lee asked. "It can't be You-Know-Who since Harry Potter was the only thing that could stop him. Are there other Dark Lords out there I don't know about?"
"I'm not going to answer that," George replied. "Suffice it to say that inability to defend oneself will eventually destroy any society."
Lee and Fred mulled over that for a moment. "Who are you?" Lee asked.
"I'm George Weasley, also known as Fred, Gred, Georgie, Your Holeyness, Harry Potter, Tentacula, and, of course, the Saintlike One."
"No wonder you think he's probably completely mental," Lee muttered to Fred. To George, he said, "One more question: do you know what this is?" he asked, showing George the blank piece of parchment. The Marauder's Map.
"Ah, yes. I'm still a little sorry that I gave it to someone else fifth year, though they certainly put it to better use than I ever did."
"What is it, though?" Lee asked.
"I'm not going to do the work for you," George replied.
"We know what it is," Lee insisted. "We just want to know if you do."
"Okay, how about you activate it and I'll deactivate it," George replied.
"Fair enough," Lee said. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."
The map came to life. Out of curiosity, George took a quick look at his position in the castle. His name had thicker lines than usual, but otherwise it was the same. "Mischief managed," George said.
"You passed the tests too?" Young George asked.
"Tests?" George asked. "I never had any tests with this thing." Maybe get out of tests, but not take one.
"Yeah," Lee said. "Moony, Wormtail, Prongs, and whoever it was—"
"Padfoot," George provided.
"Yeah, him," Lee agreed. "They made George prove his worthiness by sending him through these really awful scenarios like what would he do if 'that which he believed in' ever died or betrayed him."
Fred, you told me you just managed to guess the password while I was asleep. Even when I'm not possessed you look after me way too much. "That sounds very little like the Marauders I remember. They were all about crazy fun mischief and if they were serious at any point in their school lives, it was right before graduation, before they went Dark Lord hunting. Three years later, one became a loner, one suffered extreme depression, and one as good as murdered the last. None of that should affect the map now, though. I never would have known about any of this were I not good friends with one of the Marauder's kids."
"If half the things you've told me were true," Fred said, "Dumbledore would have figured out who you were by now."
"Ah, but I'm not exactly in the places the Headmaster looks as options. I'm rather hoping you or your twin figures it out before he does."
"Figures what out?"
"Why I decided to possess Young George Weasley," George replied. "I'll give you a hint: if I was going to possess anyone, it would have to be him regardless of whether I wanted to be someone else."
"Who would you rather be?" Lee asked.
"No one. Well, maybe Voldemort so I could kill him by killing myself, but that's it."
"Too late," Lee said. "You-Know-Who is dead."
"Mostly dead," George corrected. "Humongous difference. Fred can fill you in on the details. Now, if you don't mind, I've got a life too," he said as he grabbed the vial he assumed would be full of pumpkin juice. Instead, it had cat litter in it. He spat it out, but little bits of it remained and kept him gagging. "What did you do with George's pumpkin juice?"
"Prank on Filch," Fred said with an evil grin. "I guess you aren't infallible as you think."
George performed Scourgify on his mouth, rinsed it with Aguamenti, and spat in Fred's face. Fred dodged. "I'm going to be expecting pranks from now on and none will succeed. One of my other names is Prankster-in-Chief," he said with a wink. George then grabbed Fred's vial, checked to make sure it was pumpkin juice, and then downed it. Fred spat out the juice that came into his mouth. "Any change?"
"Still Saintlike," George replied. "As far as pranks go, that was pathetic."
"Just checking the possession rules," Fred said. He took a second sip and this time George returned to his body at the bar at the Hog's Head.
"James? You awake now?" Aberforth asked.
"Yeah," George replied. "Sorry about that. Though I have a feeling that I'm going to have a lot of unpredictable narcoleptic episodes in the near future."
