The next morning, I made sure to show up in the Great Hall early. Not so early that it would be weird, but early enough that I was one of the first to begin eating.

By the time the girls came in to sit down, the owls were beginning to bring in the mail.

"And so, it begins," Fred said, smiling wickedly.

Looking up at the owls, I wondered out loud. "What did you do?"

"Well, it took a bit of doing, but... Well, you'll see," George replied. "Honestly, everybody will be talking about this for weeks." He smiled and put an arm around me. "Want to stay and watch, or do you want some actual denyability?"

"Some what," I asked.

"When they ask if you had anything to do with it, you can honestly say you weren't even there to see what happened," he responded. "Better decide quick, I think I see Victoria's owl descending."

I honestly wanted to stay and watch the drama unfold.

Each of the girls looked surprised when a different colored envelope was left for them. Victoria's was bright green, Rachel's was orange, and Maggie's was blue. As they reached for them, I felt a shiver. Something was about to happen, and I was never going to forget it.

In unison, the envelopes were ripped open, and each girl was showered with a seemingly-undending rain of glitter. At first, it was funny to them as well, but when the shower ended, they found they couldn't get the glitter off their skin or robes.

The envelopes then began to hover, much like a Howler. "Unforgivable!" they yelled, each in a different voice. "What you have done is unforgivable to say the LEAST!"

"What've they done?" was the question being asked at every table in the Great Hall. "Was that banner at the Quidditch match THEIRS?"

The Slytherins held their usual cold detachment, but some were sniggering about the glitter not coming off.

"Maybe it'll still be around the next time they pull something like that," one girl said. "I'd hate to be them right now."

I hugged the twins equally tight after breakfast. "Honestly, you two, that was brilliant," I said. "When will the glitter come off?"

"Eh," they shrugged. "It'll probably come out of their hair after a good wash. The attachment to skin, however..."

Fred pulled up his left sleeve to show that his upper arm was still covered in the stuff. "We'll just see how long this lasts, and we'll know about when theirs'll flake off."

Laughing, we walked to Potions class. We joked that Fred might never be rid of the hot pink glitter on his arm, which made him a little upset. He didn't seem to like the idea of having sparkles on him permanently.

"Well, well, well," Snape said, arms crossed against his chest. He leaned in the doorway to the dungeon classroom. "If it isn't the three troublemakers from breakfast."

"I believe you have the wrong three troublemakers," George said. "That would be..."

Snape cut him off quickly. "No. I believe I have the proper three. Was it not you that sent those letters?" He tried to feign surprise. "No matter. I know the Headmaster will like to hear about how you managed to send those from within school grounds."

"Howlers aren't allowed to be sent from the school to someone within the school," I asked, genuinely surprised.

"No, but apparently there's a way around that rule," he said. "It was made with good reason, you know. A lot of trouble was made back when I attended classes here..."

"About a million years ago," Fred mumbled under his breath.

With a glare, Snape continued speaking. "The Headmaster will see you, in his office, right now. You get a pass from my class this once." He didn't look too pleased about that. "The next time, I'm sure we'll be discussing expulsion."

The three of us filed back out of the dungeons and toward the staircases up to Dumbledore's office. All the way, we were trying to figure out why that possibly could've been a needed rule, even back in Snape's day. Upon our arrival, Dumbledore met us at the door with a bowlful of lemon sherbets and a welcoming smile.

"Well, it is nice to see you all," he said. "If you'd be so kind as to sit down?" He motioned toward three chairs set in front of his desk."

We sat, savouring our candies, and wondering what we would be discussing.

"I'm sure you'd like to know exactly why I wanted to speak with you," he said. "And why you'll be getting a passing grade for a class you won't be attending for the day."

"A passing grade for the day," I asked. "Snape just said we got a pass from class."

"Yes, well, I'll discuss that with him later," the Headmaster said, waving a hand at me. "At any rate, I am so very curious as to how you two managed to get around an enchantment that's been around for an entire generation. Can't have been easy."

Fred and George squirmed in their chairs. "It wasn't," Fred said. "Took us a few days to get it all figured out."

"If you don't mind, sir," George continued. "We'd like to keep that information to ourselves... But, with the promise that we won't use it again?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "Be warned, George Weasley, I do not trifle with promises. If you promise not to do it again, you'll be held to that, in an extreme fashion."

The boys nodded, and the matter was dropped.

"Sir, if you don't mind my asking," I began, "why exactly was the enchantment placed anyway? Snape mentioned it was in effect in his time here at the school, as a student."

"Well, it has everything to do with a certain group of teenaged boys, who enjoyed sending Howlers to people around the school," the Headmaster replied. "One of whom is related to our own Harry Potter, in fact." He thought for a moment. "I believe, in their time here, they called themselves 'The Marauders' or some-such."

Fred and George's eyes went wide. "The Marauders Map..." they mouthed at me. The very thing that allowed them to pass around the school unnoticed by teachers after midnight. It was created by Harry Potter's father and friends?

"In any case, one such letter was from Sirius Black, in fact," he said. "To another of his friends. It yelled something rather... private about his 'arse', I believe it was, if you'll pardon the expletive." Chuckling to himself, he leaned back in his chair. "Of course, that was a different time. And none of you were so much as thought of at that point."

The older man turned back to us, and shot a very serious glance. "No more revenge-pranks, boys," he said. "The lighthearted ones played in jest are fine. I won't have students telling their parents I allow the two of you to run wild and do what you like, though."

We promised the Headmaster that we would behave. No more crusades against bullies. But, while walking out of the office, I looked back in at the man.

He sat there, chuckling to himself. "Permanent sticking charm on glitter," he laughed. "What an idea."