Chapter 10: You Can't Do That

March entered like a lion. Although the snow was gone from the hills surrounding Hogwarts, the winds were strong and cold, rattling the window panes on the high towers of the castle. No one wanted to venture outside; everyone was silently praying for the weather to somehow improve before Saturday. It was the day when quidditch would once again return to the eagerly awaiting students. Easily the most eager students where those in the houses of Slytherin and Gryffindor, seeing as they were to be the two teams competing.

Since the two houses were within twenty points of each other at all times (Gryffindor currently was up, much to James and Fred's delight), the game was anticipated to be quite epic. Everyone, even the non-quidditch fans (James shuddered to think that they existed), seemed to be talking about it.

Of course, the Ravenclaws, who had been beat soundly by Gryffindor, were hoping for Slytherin to claim victory, so that their rankings might improve. It was the exact opposite situation for the Hufflepuffs, who knew their only chance was if Gryffindor smeared Slytherin. It was suddenly as if the whole school had split into two sides and the air around the students was charged with irrepressible energy. At least, that was how James saw it. Others, like Lauren and Leslie, the blonde twins of Gryffindor, saw it quite differently.

"I can't believe people get so into this silly game," Leslie remarked to Lauren as she shook her head in wonderment, after Twonks and Jonas Micah had nearly dueled in the corridor in front of nearly half the student body.

Fred shook his head darkly in her direction. James was just disgusted and was about to retort when Gen beat him to it. "You're just simply too thick to understand."

Fred and James snickered, and Leslie looked ready to kill. Yet Longbottom, who had broken up the scuffle between Twonks and Micah just in time, ushered them away. "On your way to class, you five." They did as they were told.

There were a few more incidents that week, although James witnessed none of them. Apparently, Maya Hans had meant to hex Lucy Weasley in the corridor, but instead hit poor first year and fellow Slytherin, Abbigal Smith. Of course, Abbigal lied when asked about the jelly legs curse, saying something about how she and Maya were simply practicing and she was accidently hit. It was a load of bullocks, and no one, let alone Madame Pomfrey, bought it, but the Slytherins didn't lose any points.

The two teams were going wonky. Meadowes could be seen muttering to himself and drawing formations hastily on whatever was present, including Fred's arm, which the young boy offered willingly once at dinner.

Leo Templar went on a strange, strict diet, eating nothing but potato soup, rare meat, and water. Molly was even so paranoid that she started carrying a sneakoscope with her everywhere she went. The thing went off about fifty times a day, and always, without fail, lit up whenever Fred and James were within ten feet of her.

Fred saw the chaos and sighed dreamily to James. "I can't wait til it happens to us, mate."

It seemed like it took forever, but finally the day of the much awaited game dawned cold and windy. It seemed as though everyone's prayers had remained unanswered; the skies were overcast, and the winds were piercing and strong, a lethal combination in the game of quidditch.

Fred and James donned the warmest clothes they owned, and cheerfully headed down to breakfast. There the team was just finishing up their breakfasts, although all of them looked quite green and downtrodden.

"Good luck today," James greeted them. He was met with grave expressions. He almost joked and asked if somebody had died, but that was before he noticed that Meadowes was not there.

"Where's Meadowes?" James asked, suddenly worried.

All of the team members exchanged dark looks. Twonks finally answered him. "Someone put a load of puking pasties in his food last night. He's been puking all morning. Probably still is, as a matter of fact."

"WHAT!?" James and Fred demanded in unison.

"Those cheating, slimy bastards!" Molly exclaimed quite suddenly, and considering that she was a Prefect and the fact that James had never heard her curse before in all of his eleven years of life, it had quite a shocking effect. Molly was oblivious to the gaping looks, and continued to grumble,"I just can't believe… so what, now we can't even eat anymore? It's ridiculous."

"What I want to know is how they got anywhere near his food," Tugwood said suddenly. "He ate with us last night."

"Well, can't Madame Pomfrey fix him?" James asked. "I know there's gotta be a remedy for a simple puking pasty."

Twonks shook his head. "Apparently this was not a single puking pasty… or even just puking pasties. Pomfrey said there could even be lasting damage due to how much he was given, some of it she didn't even recognize. She said the only thing to do was to let it run its course and patch him up the best she could when it passed."

"So the Slytherins… are they being punished?" James asked.

Lucy snorted. "They aren't stupid James… there isn't any proof. The game is still on… without Dennis."

"So who's taking his place?" Fred ventured. It was of course the most pivotal question, but no one had been willing to ask it or answer it. Tugwood and Twonks looked rather lost. The back-ups were decent, but Meadowes was by far the best. Tonks shrugged half heartedly, looking defeated already. "Jones. He's only a third year but he's better than that Hudson fifth year. He's getting suited up right now."

James and Fred each individually wished that they could somehow step in and save the day. They suddenly hated being only eleven.

"It's just so unfair," Molly said bitterly. "I am so… angry."

"Good," Twonks said, causing everyone to look up at him confusedly. "Use that anger. Let's show these gits that they can't throw us off that easily. We'll win this for Meadowes."

A new look of determination was set in every face of the Gryffindor team. They stood and waved their goodbyes to Fred and James, while the boys in turn wished them luck. The boys sat down and ate as quickly as they could; it was a mere six minutes before they were headed down towards the pitch. The wave of students soon followed them, as they settled into the commentary booth. Professor Macmillian was again standing directly behind them, but James could have cared less. He was ready to let those Slytherins have a piece of his mind.

"My dad would be raving if he knew his puking pasties had been used for evil," Fred murmured to James darkly.

"Do you think they'll still win?" James ventured unsurely.

Fred shrugged. "Dunno. I've never seen Jones play."

"Poor Meadowes. Puking his guts out during the biggest game of the season," James sighed.

"Bet this is going to set off a new wave of paranoia! No one will want to eat anything," Fred grumbled.

"But how did they get it in his food?" James wondered aloud.

Fred shrugged. "Think the house elves would know anything?"

"Maybe. We'll have to investigate after the game."

Fred nodded, his brain already preparing for their next mission.

Soon, the seats around the pitch were entirely full, and the atmosphere was thick with screaming and cheering. There were signs, as usual. There was one in particular that captured James's attention that was held up by the tiny Genevieve Roth. It simply read "Puking Pasties? Is that the best you can do?" James couldn't help put smirk. News sure did spread fast in the castle. Tons of fans had painted their faces, and Teddy and Ogden were again a part of this group, although this time they were supporting Gryffindor.

The Slytherin team was the first team on the pitch and they were met with a mixture of boos and cheers. They flew around the pitch wildly as Fred introduced them. Malcolm Flinch was by far the most arrogant in his little loop and James noted it.

"Flinch seems quite pleased with himself. One wonders why when the game hasn't even started yet."

A few in the audience chuckled, although definitely not the majority. Puking Pasties were immediately coming to everyone's mind.

The Gryffindor team chose that moment to make their appearance as they simply walked onto they pitch and settled into place without the grandiose flying spectacle that the Slytherins had felt was necessary. And for some reason, James preferred this simpler, more direct route.

He introduced the Gryffindor team. "Let's hear it for Gryffindor! As beaters, we have Lucy Weasley and Benny Troy. As chasers, we have seventh years Twonks and Tugwood and third year Bryan Jones. Yes that's right, no three D dream today. Meadowes is suffering from a baffling case of puking his guts out – baffling because he was quite fine last night at dinner." Here the crowd made some noise, as if they quite agreed with what James was saying. It was mostly lost on Macmillian, who didn't scold or reprimand James for his veiled implication.
James continued "And finishing up for the gold and maroon, we have Sykes at seeker, and Molly Weasley at keeper."

"Any bets, Mr. Potter?" Fred inquired as the two teams began to take their places around Madame Spinnet.

"Why yes, Mr. Weasley, I do. I bet Gryffindor, margin of fifty points. And quidditch hell for the wanker who laced Meadowes's dinner with a puking pasties."

"POTTER!" Macmillian yelled, but he was hardly audible over the cheers and boos from the crowd.

James shrugged at Macmillian, who looked very irritated and was shaking his head as if to say "Not again, Mr. Potter". James was instantly intrigued to see how far he could press the Transfiguration professor. He smirked – it would almost be like pay back for all those boring lectures about changing a kitten into a tea cup.

"Well said!" Fred agreed, clapping James heartily on the back. Madame Spinnet then unleashed the quaffle and the game officially began.

The action was immediate and brutal. Fred began. "Slytherin takes possesion . Goyle passes swiftly to Flinch, as they fly down the pitch. Flinch dodges a nice hit by Weasley, and – oh! Twonks stole the quaffle right out of Flinch's hands!" There was loud applause from the Gryffindor section.

James cut in, "And Twonks passes to Tugwood, who – oh! Tugwood barely escapes a death bludger sent by Jordan, and passes to Jones."

It was an understatement to say that Jones was nervous. His whole entire body was convulsing. "Jones takes the quaffle under hand, getting ready to shoot with Tyson right on his tail. TYSON BLAGS! What the? YOU CAN'T DO THAT!"

Sure enough, Tyson was no longer just on Jones's tail; he was holding it in order to slow him down.

Spinnet called the foul, but not before Jones, who was no longer paying attention to where he was going, connected with one of Leo Templar's death bludgers. It hit him square in the face, and the sickening crunch sound filled the entire stadium, as the whole crowd made one collective gasp and stood on their feet. He fell from his broom, dropping the quaffle. Spinnet hurriedly caught him with a levitation spell, using her wand to lower him down to safety. Flinch, meanwhile caught the quaffle and carried on as though nothing had happened.

Spinnet again blew her whistle, but not before Flinch rocketed the quaffle past Molly. Spinnet, fuming, signaled that the goal was no good, while Flinch flew down to argue about it.

"Jones is down after being fouled by Tyson and hit by a mean bludger courtesy of Templar. It appears as though he will be taken to the hospital wing after that hit, which means Gryffindors will be down one Chaser," Fred said sadly.

"It seems as though Flinch is confused. When a foul is committed, the game stops for a penalty shot," James remarked in a condescending tone, seeing as Flinch was still arguing for his goal.

Spinnet again declared no goal, and Flinch, who was visibly enraged, sped away. The game continued without Jones. The poor bloke had lasted an exact total of two minutes and forty-five seconds.

"And we are back to action as Twonks takes the penalty shot for Jones. And it barely gets by Hans! GRYFFINDOR SCORES!"

The cheers erupted from the stadium as the score was officially, ten to zero.

Fred took over, "And back in Slytherin possession. Tyson speeds down, and oh! Dodges a bludger sent by Troy, but losses possession of the quaffle. Flinch recovers, and flies down the pitch. Goyle's wide, but Flinch continues and shoots. And WOW! WHAT A SAVE! "

And it truly was. Flinch had shot the quaffle right to the lower left hoop, just after faking to the upper right. It was sent fast and hard, but Molly swung around her stationary broom and kicked the quaffle away. The crowd roared its approval.

Molly glowered at Flinch. He glared right back.

"And Tugwood recovers. He's headed down the pitch. Passes to Twonks. Twonks dives down, and passes back to Tugwood as they reach the hoops. Tugwood dives to avoid Jordan's bludger and then shoots , but is denied by a good save by Han. She passes to Tyson, who in turn streaks down the pitch. Weasley's Bludger is sent and denied by Templar, who protects Tyson just in the knick of time. Tyson shoots, and is easily denied by Molly Weasley."

And so it continued, the two teams playing rather rough, a lot of the fouls going uncalled. But it was very clear the Molly Weasley had brought her A game. Very few of the shots were sailing through the hoops, much to each of the Slytherin chaser's agitation.

And just when it looked as though the game was never going to end at over forty minutes in with ninety points on the board for Gryffindor and twenty for Slytherin , Sykes sped off, Mica hot on his tail. Mica was faster, and easily caught up.

"And they've seen the snitch!" Fred cried. The crowd stood on their feet. The two were side by side, diving, the snitch just out of reach.

No one noticed the bludger sent from Lisa Jordan, until it hit Sykes. It connected hard, slowing him down as it hit his right leg. It was only a moment of loss momentum, as Sykes stayed firmly on his broom, but it was enough. Just as Tugwood scored another goal on Hans, Mica caught the snitch and ended the game.

The Slytherins and Ravenclaws were cheering loudly as the teams made their way back to the ground. Flinch was looking very pleased with himself indeed, as he and Mica exchanged claps on the back.

"And Slytherin wins, 170 to 90," Fred said, without even a hint of enthusiasm.

The Gryffindor team seemed to be wearing a mix of expressions ranging from shock, anger, and disappointment. But even from the commentary box, James could see that his cousin Molly was absolutely livid. It seemed as though he was watching her move in slow motion as she crossed the field in a huff to where the Slytherins were celebrating. James leaned forward, as he saw Flinch smirk at her and shrug, stepping forward. He said something to her... what, James would never know.

No more than two seconds later, Molly, little Miss Prefect, punched him right in the face.

Meadowes had stopped puking but still looked quite green under the dim lighting of the Hospital Wing. The whole Gryffindor team (minus Molly), along with James, Fred, and a few other seventh years that James didn't know, were gathered around Dennis's bed.

"You should have seen it, Dennis," Twonks said laughing, and the rest of the group smiled along. "She just socked him! Little Prefect Molly Weasley socking giant Malcolm Flint."

Meadowes smiled. "Wish I could have seen it." His voice was gravely, and James cringed. His throat was probably sore from so much puking. The idea of it made James a bit sick himself.

"That's why she isn't here. Longbottom pulled her away. Probably giving her detention right now as we speak," Twonks continued.

"So we lost, I take it? I mean seeing as Molly Weasley was driven to violence?" Meadowes sighed heavily.

"Yep," Lucy said bitterly, "We lost."

The whole room was silent. Meadowes looked heartbroken.

"And Jones won't be playing quidditch ever again," Tugwood said sadly. "Templar broke half the bones in his face. Madame Pomfrey fixed him all up, but he told me never again, just as he was leaving and I was coming in."

"Poor bloke," Sykes replied. "How long was he even in for? Three minutes?"

"Even less," James corrected.

"Ah, the life of quidditch players… not for the faint of heart," Twonks said in a joking manner.

"Nope," Meadowes replied. "Those slimy Slytherin bastards better watch themselves."

"Especially if they ever piss off Molly Weasley again," Twonks added, while the group laughed quietly, still sore about the loss.

After Meadowes was released from the Hospital Wing the following day, he had been called to speak with the Headmistress and Professor Longbottom about his puking pasties poisoning. It was a serious issue, and they assured him that they would do everything in their power to see that the wrong doer was justly punished, and that it never happened again.

The proposal was to increase security on the kitchens, something that James and Fred were most upset about. It would mean no more sneaking off into the kitchens for a midnight snack… The only way around it would be for the two of them to somehow become friendly with the house elves. They resolved to not only investigate the issue of the puking pasties themselves, but also make friends along the way.

Molly Weasley was given detention, although in all honesty, repotting some plants for Professor Longbottom hardly even counted as detention. Everyone was still shocked by her actions, especially Lucy, who had never seen her sister do any such thing before in her life. Molly had always been easy to rile up, but she had always, always insisted that physical violence was beneath her.

However, Fred and James, and the rest of Molly's teammates looked upon her with a newfound respect.

Her father, on the other hand, was not in the least pleased, and sent a Howler promptly the next morning. Phrases like "YOU CAN'T DO THAT, MOLLY ANNE WEASLEY" and "HOW COULD YOU? YOU ARE A PREFECT! PREFECTS DO NOT GET DETENTION!" rang through the Great Hall at lunch time the next day. It was entirely mortifying for the poor girl. She left right after the thing exploded, with her face aflame, and went straight to her dormitory where she stayed for the rest of the day.

Sunday night found the castle soundly asleep. All but for James and Fred who were tiptoeing down the corridor, heading towards the kitchens. Sure, the Headmistress had vowed to catch whoever poisoned Meadowes, but since when did adults do anything right? Fred and James were going right to the source; the house elves.

The coast was clear; Filch was patrolling the third floor, and there was seemingly no teacher on duty, which was a delightful surprise. They entered the kitchens without any trouble, and were startled to see that the house elves were still up and bustling around, clearly preparing the kitchens for breakfast the next morning.

James quickly took of his disillusionment charm, in order to talk to one of the house elves. He was ready to woo them with some presents; he had learned quite a lot about house elves from Kreacher and considered himself quite an expert on the subject. However, he completely overlooked the fact that appearing out of thin air mostly just manages to scare others.

The house elf who first saw him screamed bloody murder and the others were all so startled that they dropped what they were working on by jumping from the sudden shock of the loud noise.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" James said, feeling a bit flabbergasted. All of the elves were staring at him, their eyes wide with fear. He was afraid they might signal some sort of authority, and ultimately land him in detention, so he immediately thrust the shiny key in front of the house elf before him.

"I, uh, I'm just here for some food. And to ask all of you some questions," James continued nervously, as all of the house elves gathered around him and the house elf who now had the key; they were all very interested by his present.

It was just an old key that was the key to Lily's old journal. He had stolen it in the summer to punish Lily for something she had done (he couldn't remember now). He had thrown it in his trunk to hide it and had completely forgotten about it until earlier that day, when he and Fred a looked through their trunks for some sort of peace offering they could make to the house elves.

It wasn't that house elves were like giants; you didn't need to give gifts. However, it was only really polite. Besides, James and Fred wanted to impress the house elves. While it was probably certain that many of them had seen keys, it was less probable that any of them owned keys. Under the House Elf Protection Act, they were paid and provided for, but very few of them actually owned things, especially the Hogwart's house elves, who had everything provided for them by the school.

The House elf before them seemed delighted to be the owner of the old diary key.

"My name is Anna," she said, her voice very high, and her large eyes very watery.

"I'm James Potter," James said. There was an uproar after this, as the house elves peered curiously at him. A few clapped delightedly. James looked around to find Fred in order to take off his disillusionment charm as well, but had no idea where he was. That is, until he saw a piece of cake on the far side of the room disappearing. He just rolled his eyes and turned back to the house elves. Maybe it was better – seeing another boy appear out of thin air would cause another uproar and they were just starting to calm down.

"Tis Harry Potter's son!" A boy house elf exclaimed. At least, James thought it was a boy since his voice, albeit still high, wasn't nearly as high as Anna's.

A few clamored about him, and James felt like he was in a parade.

"I er.. I was wondering if anyone else was down here Friday night… you see someone got sick…"

The house elves all made an outcry. "Not our cooking. Our cooking is safe, so good," Anna assured him. "Anna is sure that no one got sick from our food."

"No nothing that you did. You are all excellent cooks," James assured them. "I was wondering if someone maybe snuck down and sabotaged the food. "

"Anna knows you can't do that," she proclaimed, setting her thin little arms on her hips. "Only house elves can touch food. Human can only eat in kitchen, not cook. Tis safety spell on kitchen."

"So no one could add a puking pasty to food in this kitchen?"

"No not in kitchen," Anna declared firmly. "Once outside of kitchen, yes. But not in kitchen."

James was deflated. So much for bringing the culprit to justice. That meant that either someone had gotten a house elf to do their dirty work (which seemed highly unlikely) or someone had slipped the puking pasties in Meadowes's food without anyone noticing. Either one wasn't very desirable. No one had seen anyone else anywhere near Meadow's food, except his teammates and fellow Gryffindors. And none of them would have done it.

"Sir Potter looks so sad. Anna is sorry that she cannot help."

"So am I Sir Potter. I am Alvie. Anna and Alvie are head house elves. We run kitchen. No one sneaks in here Sir Potter. Especially now. Headmistress told us no one allowed and we now tell her everything."

"Well thank you very much, Alvie, Anna… all of you, thank you for your help. But er… you see, could you maybe not tell McGonagall… I could get in a spot of trouble."

Anna looked to her key, and hugged it to her chest. James wished he would have brought more as Alvie was looking at it quite enviously.

"I promise to bring more gifts next time… I had no idea that so many of you would still be awake. You are so hardworking," James continued hurriedly. All of the house elves beamed back, especially Alvie, who clearly wanted James to return with his OWN present.

"Yes, Yes, Sir Potter shall come back! You are Harry Potter's son! Yes, yes!" Alvie said excitedly. James was quite used to this reaction, yet he found it weird that even house elves adored his father.

Anna nodded furiously too. "We shall not tell McGonagall. We know Sir Potter means no harm."

"Thank you so much," James said with a relieved smile.

It was then that another house elf squealed and pointed. It seemed that they had noticed that the cake on the far left table was disappearing.

James quickly strode over to the disappearing cake and took off the disillusionment charm before the house elves could start a riot.

Fred Weasley suddenly appeared before them all, devouring the chocolate cake in front of him as if he hadn't eaten in months. The house elves all appeared shocked yet again. James nervously ran a hand through his mused hair.

"Errr, this is my cousin, Fred Weasley." He said. And then for good measure added, "Harry Potter's nephew!"

Monday afternoon found the common room crowded with Gryffindors. Molly and Lucy were bent over an intense Potions essay, Roxie was studying Transfiguration, Meadowes (who was now fully recovered, although he lacked his usual appetite) was flirting with a group of sixth year girls pretending to do homework at one of the tables, and Twonks and Tugwood were discussing quidditch tactics with Ben. Surprisingly, James and Fred were also working. James was struggling to help Fred with the mobiliarbus charm, which allowed one to move objects with one's wand. It was one of the more complex charms that they were studying, and it required total and full concentration; something of which that Fred Weasley had a very limited supply.

Fred was soon sick of practicing. He became easily frustrated, and when he saw that Jason and Matthew were starting a game of exploding snaps, he quickly made some poor excuse, and went to play.

James didn't mind seeing as he had a whole Potions essay to work on himself. Turpin may have been pretty, in an old way, but he was quite sick of her. She assigned essays nearly every day, and they were all dreadfully boring.

It was then and there as James was taking out his ink and parchment, that he was approached by Will Barvish. Or as he was more lovingly known to James and Fred, Weepy Wilbur.

Will stood there, and cleared his throat loudly, causing James, and a few others, to look up at the noise.

"Oh… er… hey Barvish," James said nervously. It was so out of Weepy Wilbur's character to approach someone. James suddenly felt his stomach sink as he knew this certainly couldn't be good.

"Hello," Barvish replied with a rather pained expression on his face. A silence fell upon them, and when it became apparent that Will was not going to say anything further, James, not being able to stand the awkwardness of it, spoke.

"So, uh, what's new?"

"I know that you and Fred sneak out. I heard you last night."

It wasn't what he had been expecting. James looked at him, wondering where Barvish could possibly be going with this.

"You wake me up each time," Barvish continued. James didn't even know what to say.

"Er, sorry. We don't mean –" James started but was cut off shortly.

"I won't tell. But I want to come with." He could tell that Barvish was quite nervous, considering he had interrupted James. Yet this all continued to surprise James. Barvish wanted to sneak out? Why?

Will was quiet, subdued, like to read, and was quite boring. His best friend was snarky Gen Roth, who was always rude and big-mouthed.

Before James could stop himself, he asked the only thing he could think of. "Why?"

Will lifted his chin. "If you don't let me, I will inform Professor Longbottom."

James had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. THIS was the Will Barvish that James expected. Still why on earth would Will even want to go? James didn't even think that Barvish liked him that much, something that James couldn't understand. Because, well, everyone liked James. Everyone that is, except Nott. Yet what could James do but agree? Surely, they wouldn't have to take him every time… Then again maybe he and Fred could just be quieter and Barvish would never know. James would need to learn some sort of silencing charm.

"Alright, Barvish," James agreed, "I'll let you know the next time we sneak out."

Barvish nodded. "I'll know if you don't tell me," he quickly added before turning on his heel and leaving.

James shook his head. It was just too weird. Did Barvish have some sort of ulterior motive?

And then as he watched Barvish settle back down on the floor with Gen Roth, he realized that there was only one reason Barvish wanted to go with them; so he could actually have some fun.

It wasn't until the next day that James finally had a moment to talk to Fred about Barvish's request. They finally had a moment alone as they were walking from Defense Against the Dark Arts to Transfiguration, the rest of the class being quite a ways ahead of them.

"So Barvish talked to me yesterday," James began.

"He's a loony, that one. Still wonder when he and Matthew will just beat each other."

"Er, yeah. So he uh… he knows we snuck out the other night. He says he knows every time that we do," James said.

Fred looked horrified.

"And he threatened to tell," James continued, "unless we let him tag along."

"WHAT? We've got to take Weepy Wilbur with us now?"

James shrugged. "He might not be THAT bad."

"No way Jamsie! No way! Wilbur won't be any fun at all. He kills fun. Just like… eats it or something. No, he's not coming with."

"Then we'll get detention. He'll tell Professor Longbottom."

"What a little… really what kind of Gryffindor narks?"

"Only wants to come along once… maybe after that we can learn some sort of silencing charm. I… I sort of feel bad for the bloke. I mean, Gen Roth is his best friend. That's gotta be lousy."

Fred seemed to cool off a bit and consider this. "I guess," he admitted reluctantly.

"We might even be able to use him… we still need to prank Peeves. Maybe he can be like our sacrifice or something… like bait for Peeves. It'd be the last thing that he would expect."

Fred was seemingly convinced as James mentioned this new tactic. "That might work! But only one time. And we'll make that clear to Barvish before we take him."

"Sounds good," James said, as they turned the corner, "But now what the bloody hell are we going to do to Peeves?"