AN: More date/time mangling. BEN died early 2000's, but from the official pasta, his game was played in 2010 (ergo, he was "released" then). Majora's Mask came out around 2001. Let's just say the game was played in 2003-2004 and leave it at that, kay?
Just a warning; really Dark stuff ahead.
I own nothing
-Crow
The day began fairly peacefully, though a feeling of tension was obvious among the first year Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students. This morning would mark the first of many dreaded classes with the resident Dungeon Bat.
Potions.
Whispers had already circulated on Professor Snape and his notorious foul mood towards anyone other than Slytherin. As such, the Ravenclaw first years were already nose-deep into their potions texts simultaneously shoveling porridge into their mouths (with several comically missing and jabbing their eye or taking a bite of an empty spoon after dropping the glob on their lap).
Harry and Adrian had entertained themselves with the panic and fervor around them. Adrian turned to his fellow raven, "So, what do you think?"
"About Snape? I'm not entirely sure. I mean, the rumors all say he's horrid and from how he followed Dumbledore to deliver the message yesterday, I'd say he's stuck in his camp, but… I'm reserving judgment for now."
He watched as Hermione Granger walked in, balancing two books on potions in both hands as she frantically read from one to another, "Don't Gryffindors have him on Friday?"
"Correct." Adrian was also watching the girl, absentmindedly wondering if someone would trip her.
"Yeesh," Harry blew out a breath, "This whole thing sounds ridiculous! I mean, he's a teacher, he can't be that bad. Right?"
"Ah, yes, Harry Potter. Our new- celebrity."
Snape murmured quietly, but his voice carried over the oppressive silence of the dungeons. Harry was already put on-edge by the surroundings, but the deep, resonating voice of the potions master made his skin crawl and he'd almost reached down to where he'd normally store his electrodes (if he weren't in a robe).
The entire dungeon area smelled like stale roots and fungus with a vague hint of chemically fumes from years of potionmaking. The walls looked slightly damp, but were relatively free of mildew and green slime, as partially expected from stereotyped dungeons.
Snape's potions class had several wooden tables arranged with a chalkboard and a desk at the front. A separate cupboard was locked, but presumably held the expensive or regulated school-provided ingredients that normal Apothecaries didn't carry or needed to be kept in better conditions than a student's trunk.
The walls had multiple rows of colorful potions in oddly-shaped bottles with labels in a fine scrawl detailing the potion and its effects. Jars of organs, samples, and specimens floating in a green preservative were littered around the room, adding to the overall 'creep' factor, but reminding Harry vaguely of EJ's personal laboratory.
He finished roll call uneventfully and strode to the front of the classroom, ominously holding sway over the entire, silent classroom. After a few seconds (that felt more like an eternity, to most), he spoke.
"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," Barely above a murmur, but caught by everyone, regardless. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fum- what are you doing here?"
He stopped mid-word as he directed his attention at the door. Everyone turned and saw the small figure poking her head innocently through the opening, green eyes wide and shining as she took in every detail. She shrank back at the cold gaze. "I will ask again. What are you doing here?"
Sally inched forward and swallowed before answering, "I-I wanted to watch everyone making potions and stuff. My brothers are here, so… I… um…" She trailed off, fidgeting with her hands.
"Your brothers?" He asked quietly. He scanned the room and quickly deduced it, "I recall you're one of Mr. Lindermann's wards, then?"
She nodded. "And why are you here?" He pressed.
"Um… I just wanted to see it." She said quietly. "The magic and stuff. I haven't seen any of their other classes, yet."
Snape's onyx eyes bored into the girl's, but he didn't perform any Legilimency. He found himself burning with guilt as, for the second time in this hour emerald green eyes stared back at him. These eyes, however, brimming with a completely innocent curiosity and eagerness that he hadn't seen since Spinner's End.
…
"… Very well…"
She brightened, but he continued sternly, "However, you are to remain in the corner at least two feet from any active cauldron. You are not to touch anything. You are not to disrupt anything. You are not to break anything. Understand? If you grow bored of watching, here is a textbook on the subject that you may find… interesting." He walked to a cabinet and picked up an object off the top shelf before he handed her a thin book labeled 'My First Potions Tome; A Fun and Interactive Way to Introduce Your Child to Potions (Age 8 and Up)'.
She gratefully thanked him as she quickly hopped her way over to the Hufflepuff side and took a seat next to Nick and his partner, Ernie MacMillan.
Snape cleared his throat, "As I was saying, I don't expect you to understand the delicate power of liquids that creep through the human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses… I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death- If you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."
The Ravenclaws were all at the edge of their seats, eager to prove themselves through their amassed knowledge.
"Potter!" Snape said suddenly, "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
Harry, startled at being called out so suddenly took a moment to gather himself. He hadn't really remembered that bit from the first few chapters of their potions' texts.
"I don't know, sir."
Snape's lips curled into a sneer. "Tut, tut – fame clearly isn't everything." All around the room, the Ravenclaw students' hands shot up, eager to answer the question instead (except Adrian, who just sat in his seat next to Harry). "Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"
Harry's eyes narrowed slightly as he began to see the pattern, "I don't know, sir."
The Ravenclaws' hands were not shaking back and forth, practically exploding to try to answer the question. Snape ignored them.
"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"
'Hey!' He thought, brightening, 'I actually know this from EJ's toxicology lesson!'
"Monkshood and wolfsbane are the same plant, just called different things by location also known as women's bane, devil's helmet, Queen of all Poisons, and blue rocket. It's actually referred to by genus Aconitum. It's entirely lethal and ingestion results in burning sensations, cardiovascular arrhythmias, sweating, dizziness, vertigo, and frothing at the mouth. It's believed to have been cultivated from the slobber of Cerberus in the Greek Afterlife, with an association to rabies from the symptoms on humans. A post-mortem autopsy will reveal only asphyxiation as cause of death."
'Take that!' He thought confidently.
Snape, as well as the rest of the class, stared wide-eyed at the somewhat descriptive nature of the toxicity of the plant. Snape cleared his throat, "Well, it seems you have a modicum of thought after all, but bar the unnecessary information, monkshood and wolfsbane are also called aconite which is what you should take out of this. Two points from Ravenclaw for excessive long-windedness."
Harry's face darkened; damned if he did, damned if he didn't, it seemed like there wasn't really a way to win here, was there? Snape continued, "In response to previous questions, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it's known as Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons." He cast a sharp look around the room, "Well? Why aren't you call copying that down?!"
There was a sudden flurry of parchment and quills as the Ravenclaws immediately started absorbing the knowledge.
Nick bulleted the main points on some parchment he'd arranged like a notebook, but cast an apprehensive look at Sally when he heard a soft mutter, just catching "Games" above the rest.
They began mixing their cauldrons, having received the information from the blackboard and their notes. It was supposedly the easiest potion to make; a simple Boil Cure potion, but even that became troublesome as the other Ravenclaws kept rushing about, hording certain ingredients at their station in their ambitious urge to prove themselves at least once in this class. Meanwhile, some of the Hufflepuffs tended to get spooked by either Snape or rushing Ravenclaws and had already dropped a few jars of ingredients, increasing the urgency over the remaining amount.
Adrian was forced to raise his sleeves to continue working while avoiding splash-back onto his robes, causing another incident.
"Well, well, Mr. Thresher, I thought Ravenclaws were meant to be the intelligent ones." Snape sneered, "Intelligence is often lacking when you make such a dunderheaded move as to acquire a tattoo."
Adrian's perma-glamour couldn't vanish his barbed wire completely, so instead it had 'flattened it' into a tattoo pattern that coiled the length of his arm. As he pushed up his sleeves, the tattoo image had to be revealed and Snape noticed it first thing. Particularly since hardly any students had ever gotten a tattoo, typically seen as something rather ritualistic or associated with Dark Arts by other pureblood wizards and most muggleborn students with parents who could afford Hogwarts' tuition would sooner disown their children from the will than permit them get a tattoo.
The other students became interested and stood up to catch a glimpse of Adrian's tattoos before a stern glare from the Professor forced them back into their own work. He addressed the boy again, "I presume Mr. Lindermann knows, yes?"
He nodded silently. The Potions Master simply sneered as the glamoured spirit returned to his work quietly and efficiently. Tattoos were hardly a punishable offence. The dungeon dweller returned to the front of the room, sanding cross-armed as he surveyed the scene in front of him.
Nick worked quietly with his partner. He didn't really appreciate his year-mate, but he shared the first year dormitory with him in relative 'live and let live' peace. However, the MacMillan kid seemed a bit stuck-up at times. Though being outnumbered as the only 'pureblood' boy in the dorm, with three 'muggleborns' (including himself) and two 'half-bloods' he quickly learned he did not have seniority in the room and found himself tied to a chair shortly after trying to 'commandeer' the room to his liking. (Nick even left an added bonus of some arachnid 'friends' to crawl over him when they left. He was squirming and whimpering when they got back an hour later, though the spiders had "mysteriously vanished" just before they walked in)
As he worked, the undead corpse noted from the corner of his eye how Sally had set down the thin book and would discretely pick up some of the dropped reagents and collected a few from the cabinet as well. He saw her mixing in a spare cauldron leftover in the corner, but could only silently send some glances back at her as she haphazardly mixed slimy bits and bobs into the cauldron. Her mixture began to glow a radioactive green and he could catch whiffs of the fumes that burnt his nose like chlorine in a pool.
After a moment of watching the cauldron bubble and simmer, she raised her hand and called out innocently, "Excuse me, Mr. Snape. My potion came out funny."
The older man had just dealt with several near-mishaps with the anxious Hufflepuffs and was infuriated that she'd disobeyed him and had mixed possibly volatile reagents together without caution. "Idiot girl! I told you not to touch anything, and besides, muggles can't brew potions!"
"But I got something. See?" She pointed at the cauldron which everyone could tell by now was glowing in the dim light of the dungeons. Snape frowned and went closer. Indeed she had a concoction boiling in her cauldron, to his confusion.
"And just what did you intend to do?" He asked raising an eyebrow. It didn't look quite right for a boil cure, but even with his extensive knowledge, he couldn't think what this mix could possibly be.
"I dunno. But look, it smells funny." She commented.
"I can see that, girl. It's burning my sinuses as we speak." He said dryly, scrunching his nose at the reminder of the painful sensation.
"No, I mean it smells funny closer to the potion itself." She insisted.
Snape, out of curiosity more than anything, cautiously leaned in closer to her cauldron. The burning did not get any better and he did not smell any-
He suddenly felt tiny, but strong arms suddenly on top of his head, pushing violently downward. He managed to vanish a majority of the concoction with a swish of his wand and a wordless incantation just before his head would have plunged into the mix. As such, his forehead only banged against the steel side of the cauldron and he felt the small hands release him. He wrenched his head from the cauldron, absolutely furious.
"WHAT IN GOD'S NAME WERE YOU THINKING!?" He roared. He couldn't remember the last time he swore and really meant it, let alone with muggle phrases.
"Aww, I wanted you to get wet. I did it to Harry once as a prank and it was funny. Hahaha." She giggled innocently.
Snape's eyebrows twitched towards concern when he found her speech and body language suggested total innocence, but her eyes bore into him and told volumes of strong ill-intent and frustration that whatever she had been planning didn't work because of his quick thinking.
Completely gone were the eyes that had looked fearfully around the room. These were the same furious eyes he'd seen in nightmares of Lily's vengeful ghost for years after her death. They were enraged at something he had done… but aside from, admittedly, singling out Potter and Thresher, he couldn't think of anything he'd done to make her behave so vehemently.
He walked away fuming and returned to his post at the front of the room. The girl resumed reading the potions text in silence. He ignored the anxious looks of the students at the angry red welt forming above his eyebrow, he'd see Pomfrey for it later. The class finished up without further incident (save for a Hufflepuff's melted cauldron) and they turned in a flask of their potion to a cushioned crate at the front.
He sneered as Potter presented his, but grimaced as he saw the girl next to him smile with her eyes boring into his own. Everyone walked out and he was left in the classroom to clean the mishaps and odd ends for his next class in a few hours. He frowned as he saw a spare cauldron still on its stand in the back. The one the little girl used.
He peered in and found a small amount of the unknown, green potion still remaining at the bottom. It hadn't reduced in potency and still smelled acrid. There was hardly enough to try to diagnose properly, but his curiosity was still strong.
He cautiously poured it onto the tabletop-
-and paled when the wood sizzled and steamed as the potion ate through a large amount of it in a matter of seconds.
*heehehe*
He heard a faint giggle and whirled towards the doorway in time to catch a brief glimpse of a pink dress and brown hair vanishing from the slightly open doorframe. He rushed to the door and wrenched it open to reveal an empty hallway on either side. The hallway was devoid of any alcoves or suits of armor or statues for at least 20 meters on either side of the dungeon door. Nowhere for the girl to hide, but nonetheless he couldn't see her anywhere.
"Miss Williams?" He growled out.
No response.
Frustrated, he turned around, but before closing the door, Snape noticed a piece of paper lying in front of him and he cautiously picked it up. Written in childish scrawl was a simple question. "Play with me?" above an image of a crude skeleton in black robes with black, shoulder-length hair.
He closed and locked the door to the distant giggles echoing down the corridor.
Harry and Adrian walked up the incredible number of stairs late at night, carting heavy, bronze telescopes under their arms. At last, they made it to the top of the tower where a platform extended over the edge already holding a few classmates and the instructor. Professor Sinistra beamed despite the lateness of the night and instructed them to set up at a few locations before handing a star chart and informing them to plot certain planets.
They were partnered with the Gryffndors today, so Nick had the course the next day, instead, with the Slytherin first years. Every so often, a Gryffindor would approach, intent on talking with them.
"Heya Harry!" An irish boy said, "Where d'ya think Jupiter is?"
Harry gave a level stare at the boy, not saying anything until the Gryffindor started becoming increasingly uncomfortable and edged away as the secret killer retreated back to watching through his scope.
"You should really be looking through the North East quadrant first."
Harry's eye twitched at the bossy tone of Hermione Granger. Needless to say, she continued unprompted, "Three of the five planets visible tonight should be in that area. Also, you should have your star chart oriented in the direction you're facing and furthermore-"
"Thank. You." Adrian murmured quietly, but firmly. She opened her mouth to speak more (probably on interrupting someone else) when he pushed just a tiny amount of energy to his eyes and caused them to glow red just enough to be intimidating, but not enough to make her sure of what she saw. She gulped audibly and backed away towards her station as the two ravens continued their assignment.
Harry mumbled under the guise of adjusting his scope's focus knob. "I am about to push whoever comes up next off of this bloody tower."
"And I will help write the suicide note." Adrian agreed quietly.
"Hiya Harry!"
The two felt consumed by the immediate desire to carry out that plan as the obnoxious voice of the youngest Weasley boy projected from just behind them.
"So, have you figured out where Jupiter is, yet? Seamus couldn't tell me and know-it-all Granger is too caught up in her work to share. I figured you're smart and all, being a Ravenclaw, so you'd help a fellow Gryffindor out."
Adrian frowned, "You just literally contradicted yourself. You admitted he's Ravenclaw and then called him a 'fellow Gryffindor'."
"That ruddy hat's gone batty." Ron argued heatedly, "Everyone knows Harry Potter's a Gryffindor at heart. He defeated You-Know-Who, for Merlin's sake! He's obviously a Gryff."
"Regardless," Harry interrupted, "I don't want to help you with your assignment. Just look through your telescope like everyone else."
"Aw, come on, mate. Is it 'cause he's making you?" He gestured towards Adrian. "Shoo! Go on, leave us alone!"
"He isn't the problem here." Harry replied angrily, he was progressively getting closer to just flipping this bastard over the parapets down all thirty-plus stories to the ground below to go splat.
"Right, then, what about that pet of yours?" Ron yammered on, ignorant of the tension aimed at him, "I think it's pretty wicked. Never seen a creature like that, did you find it on your travels or something? Bloody awesome how it took out Malfoy, though. Slimy snake got what's coming to him."
"What?" Harry asked, rage suppressed by complete confusion.
"Y'know, Slytherins! All of them are Dark wizards in the making. Can't trust any of them, you know what I mean?" Ron persisted.
Harry rounded away from his telescope and glared up at the gangly boy. Even though he was easily a foot taller than Harry was, the Weasley backed away slightly. "Look, I don't know what you think, but I was perfectly fine over here before you decided to come over, ask to copy our work, insult my brother, and in general be a nuisance. So, before I lose my temper, please go away!"
Ron's nostrils flared as he glared between the two. "Ruddy Ravenclaws. Do you all infect everyone with your stuck-up attitudes?"
"Infect?" Adrian ground out incredulously.
"Yeah! You obviously got Harry Potter, here! He's a Gryffindor no matter what that bloody hat thinks! You'll see!"
At this point, Harry stomped up to him and twisted an arm to force his body down and make his face level with the shorter boy's. "Read. My. Lips. Weasley. 'I DON'T CARE'! Now go away before I drop kick you so far, your head will be stuck in Uranus." As a helpful hint, he pointed to the sky behind him as Ron stomped away towards his station.
Both noticed that less than a minute later, the redhead had maneuvered his telescope in that portion of the sky, fervently tracking around for the planet in question.
Adrian and Harry quietly finished their star chart and left as the annoying boy was still searching the skies. "How long do you think it'll be before he realizes Uranus isn't even visible tonight?"
"Oh, probably morning. Or whenever he gets his head out of his own hilariously-named-planet. Whichever comes first." They shared the quiet chuckle as they made their way back to the Ravenclaw Tower.
The next morning, the hallway was empty and quiet. No one was out that early or in that specific corridor. It was completely still.
That is, until an inconspicuous mirror amongst the rows of paintings suddenly swung outward, exposing a hidden passageway. A head popped out, swinging back and forth to check if the coast was completely clear before opening it further and allowing his twin to walk out as well. They scurried across the hall to a nearby alcove holding a statue big enough to hide both of them.
"Alright, Georgie, check if the coast is clear." Fred instructed.
The other twin nodded and murmured the passphrase to a simple sheet of old parchment. Lines appeared over it, forming an accurate self-adjusting map of Hogwarts. He glanced around at the nearby area and frowned in confusion. "What the…?"
They froze as voices echoed down the passageway. They tucked further behind the statue as they got closer and closer. The shadows covered them well enough that they peeked past the elbow to see who was coming.
Harry Potter's family walked calmly down the corridor, talking. There was Mr. Lindermann himself, the little girl Sally, Toby, and one of the Jack's but he wasn't tapping the cane like he usually would.
They listened in. "How's Ben?" Sally asked worriedly.
"He's fine, Sally, calm down." Solomon assured her, "He's in stable condition. Madame Pomfrey's magic couldn't detect anything out of the ordinary about him, so his glamour is holding up."
They shared a glance as Fred mouthed 'glamour?' before the adult continued, "Now, he is supposedly going to wake up today, so I arrived to try to catch him when he does. Until then, go about business as usual. Understood?"
They all nodded, except for Edward Jack. He was quiet and looking-
-right at them!
"Jack, is there anything wrong?"
The young man removed his dark glasses, revealing the clouded eyes behind as he seemed to look around the area they were in. They barely dared to breathe, let alone move and give away their position. After a while, he 'hmphed' and put them back on, "Sorry, Slendy, I thought I saw something. It wasn't anything, though."
The supposedly-'blind' teen snapped his fingers in sudden thought, "I just remembered! I think I should leave today. Shiloh was pretty antsy about me leaving from the get-go and I don't want to leave her alone for too long. Especially with Rake or Jeff. I mean, she barely refrains from slashing Tim to pieces and I don't trust Rake with her."
Toby nodded, "Yeah, plus she'd probably rip up the couch cushions to make a throw pillow… again."
"Ugh, don't remind me." Mr. Lindermann groaned. The conversation faded with their footsteps.
After a few minutes of silence, the two carefully walked out from their hiding space. Their hearts hammered against their chests, not just at the close call, but from what they learned. Fred turned to George, "What do you reckon they mean 'glamour'? That's advanced NEWT-level stuff, isn't it?"
"Forget that! I remember hearing that the guy with the glasses was blind. How could he see anything through those eyes?" George insisted. "And this 'Shiloh' girl? They just tossed around the fact that she almost killed someone like it was just the weather!"
Fred nodded worriedly. George jolted with a memory, "And there's this!"
He pulled out the map and showed his twin the area around their footsteps inked onto the parchment. Moving away from them was a collection of names and a few footprints, but that was hardly all. In the center was a black symbol instead of footsteps just gliding along without a name label attached to it. It looked like a crudely drawn circle with two lines making a hashed X through it.
Then, next to that symbol, was a pair of faint faded-out footprints that usually marked the resident ghosts' presence. A floating scroll next to it read out 'Sally Williams'. The other two footprints were fairly standard, but the names read out 'Toby Rogers' and 'Jack Nichols'.
"Hey, Fred, didn't that tall bloke introduce that Toby kid as Toby Richards?''
"Mm-hmm." The twin replied. "Hey, check the hospital wing." They folded the parchment until they found the one marking the hospital wing. The matron was bustling around a bed with one of the Ravenclaw upper years. In one of the beds was the still form with a floating label reading "BEN_DROWNED. EXE" in a blocky font instead of the usual, swirly script of Moony.
"What kind of name is dot-ee-ex-ee?" Fred read out curiously. He thought of an idea and pointed his wand at the name, sending his intent to the parchment. To their interest, the name changed. Instead was written in the fancy script, "Benjamin $~# %" where the last name became unintelligible scribbles with no indication of a family name.
"What do you reckon this means, Freddie?"
"No idea Georgie, but I've got an idea where to find out."
They looked at each other and nodded.
The portrait of a young girl in a pastel dress swinging lazily on a dainty swing attached to a willow tree suddenly swung forward as the two notorious pranksters of Hogwarts walked out into the hallway. They scanned the area for anything out of the ordinary.
"Oi, Fred, that wasn't there before, was it?" George was pointing to a rather still portrait on the wall of a young woman on a picnic blanket facing away from the viewer underneath a sprawling oak tree in the middle of a vast field.
They approached and politely tapped against the side of her frame. "Er, Miss? Excuse us." The portrait didn't move an inch, they tapped harder against the frame wondering if sound distance translated into the portrait realm.
"Don't bother, boys." Came a voice from the nearby portraits. They turned their attention to a painting of a rather regal-looking old man. "She never talks to anyone aside from those visitors. Not even the Headmaster, believe it or not. She just sits in place day-in and day-out, never moving from that blanket. Or at least, that's what the Blue Boy says." He pointed to a portrait on the opposite wall of a Dutch boy in blue clothing who nodded.
"Ja, all day she just sits on the blanket, not even moving. If it weren't for the Headmaster trying to get in, we all thought she was a muggle painting." He reported.
"Well, why don't you go ask her yourselves?" Fred asked. He'd seen portraits move between each other on occasion to chat or get out of the monotony of their own frame.
"That's the thing," the old man continued, "she's completely locked to us. I'm not sure how else to put it, but no one can go in or out of her portrait. We can go around her, but never actually visit her."
The twins looked at each other in silent questioning and approached the still portrait. A woman called down from her own portrait, "I heard her name was Emily, if that helps!"
They nodded their thanks and walked up to the portrait. Fred cleared his throat and spoke loudly, "Excuse me, Miss Emily?" Nothing. "May we speak with you? We'd like to go inside the room you're guarding!" She didn't seem to hear or was willfully ignoring them as she just sat still.
"Gred?"
"Yes Forge?"
"Let's show her how the greatest prankmasters in all of Hogwarts can lockpick a simple door." The twins nodded and aimed their wands at the portrait. "Alohamora!"
Nothing.
"Open Sesame!"
Nothing.
Fred growled in frustration. He aimed his wand right at the very corner of the portrait. "Bombarda!" The hex sounded off like a canon, startling the other portraits, but the picture was completely unaffected. Not even the frame he'd aimed at had taken an ounce of damage.
"Oi, brother, let's try this, then." George suggested, pointing to an ancient phrase scribbled in the margins of the Marauder's Map.
Fred pointed to the painting in general and murmured, "Secreta Revelata Sunt."
The spell made the whole frame glow for a second before centering on the girl, herself. That actually provoked a reaction as the woman gave a surprised 'oh' and moved her arms around, examining the white glow emanating from them. The spell wore off and she turned towards them, smiling as her figure grew approaching the 'window'.
"Hello." She offered.
"Hey." Fred said in reply. George mimicked him. The portrait giggled at the awkward silence and started speaking again.
"Is there anything I can do for you boys?" She asked sweetly.
They shared a surprised glance, "Er, yeah, we were trying to see the rooms behind you."
"Oh, why didn't you just say so." She tittered, "I'll show you… after you talk with me a while. It gets rather lonely from time to time."
The twins shrugged and George addressed her, "So, you're name is Emily, right? Any last name or something?"
"Nope."
"Who painted you?" Fred tried.
"I don't know." She admitted forlornly, staring at her dainty hands and sighing. "He painted me and left me in his attic for years before I was taken by another man."
They sat in the silence until George noticed the small silver plaque at the bottom of her frame. "Why are you called 'Family Portrait' if you're alone?"
Her face contorted briefly in slight irritation before she resumed her calm smiling. "I bring in my own family."
"Oh, so there are others?" Fred asked, glancing around inside the meadow, half expecting a few figures in the distance playing in the grass.
"No. I'm alone." She said simply. The wind in the portrait rustled past the scene, upsetting her dress and hair and rustling leaves and grass in waves.
The two brothers shifted in unease. "Er, can we go inside now?"
She brightened, considerably. "Of course! I'll let you in right now!"
They were surprised at the sudden shift in feeling to her and her willingness to allow them in. However, their eyes widened in fright as a black mist suddenly reached out of the portrait frame and latched onto both of their ankles. The portraits around them cried out in horror as they were dragged swiftly into the painting with Emily.
They suddenly collapsed into a field of scratchy grass and stood up suddenly. The field was vast and empty, with an infinite void of grass all around them. The only other sights there were the girl and her blanket in a small clearing of cut grass around the large oak. They turned behind them and saw a 'window' standing in the middle of the void showing Hogwarts Hall. Fred experimentally ran over to it and ran around the window, proving it was only existent there and there was an entire field behind it.
The girl approached the two, smiling, "I'm glad you offered to come in. I haven't had many visitors. And the last one didn't stay for too long."
George stared incredulously at her and, impulsively, reached out to touch a strand of her hair. She giggled as he pulled back after making contact, "A-are we in your painting?"
She nodded, "Of course, silly boys. Where else would you be?"
They looked around, stunned, "This is impossible," Fred murmured.
She shrugged and grabbed both boys by the wrist to lead them towards her blanket. She requested they sat down and they found the blanket welcomingly soft and smooth, unlike actual picnic blankets that were usually itchy and scratchy or crawling with ants. Though, on that note, they saw that there was nothing else around them. No crickets or grasshoppers. No birds. No cicadas. Not even ants or spiders crawling across the blanket.
"-a sandwich?"
"What?" They asked in stereo. She giggled.
"I said, would you like a sandwich?" She offered a small plate of delicate sandwiches in perfectly white bread with pink meat in between.
"Er, no thanks." George replied, unsure if eating portrait food was a good idea.
She shrugged and took a bite out of the sandwich herself. She moaned softly as she chewed the sandwich. Fred's mouth salivated at the thought of a really good sandwich, but his stomach suddenly turned into a knot as the perfectly white bread began to bleed with red.
She took another bite and a piece of bloody, red meat fell out from between the pieces. They looked in horror as the meat writhed with squirming maggots. She pardoned herself and picked up the piece, popping it in her mouth- worms and all, citing, "It's quite rude to be wasteful."
She pulled out another small dish from the basket, "Would you care for some liver?" She took off the dish's lid and revealed a large, bloody liver with some green garnish and sliced, glazed onions on the side. The twins bolted upright and ran from the girl as she continued offering gruesome plates to them from her spot on the blanket and her cackle echoed across the empty plains.
They kept running through the infinite void of tall grass, the height getting progressively higher as they retreated from the girl.
Thigh-length.
Waist-length.
Chest-length.
Neck-length.
George reached out to Fred and they grabbed hands just as the grass reached eye-length.
They felt a dip in the ground beneath them and the grass towered over their forms before seeming to give out beneath them. They fell through a split in the earth and looked up at a tear in a void of black before falling and tumbling down further and further. The inky blackness gave way to a kaleidoscope of chaotic colors shimmering around them. They held onto each others' hand for dear life as they screamed.
*thud!*
They landed painfully on something solid. They couldn't tell much other than the fact that they were still holding each other's hands, but at the moment everything they saw seemed rather blurry.
"Are you alright?"
"Boys, are you still with us?"
"Oh, dear, how could this happen?"
They focused on the figures around them and felt themselves being hoisted into sitting positions by two witches and a wizard in some kind of courtroom. The witches fussed over the two as the wizard led them to some chairs by a window. The window let in pleasant birdsong and a welcome breeze to help them clear their heads.
"Fred?" George mumbled, disoriented.
"Yeah, I'm alright." Fred groaned. "You?"
"As good as I'll ever be."
They turned to the three figures as the trio fretted in hushed tones. "Oi, what's going on? Where are we?"
The wizard took decisive action and raised a placating hand in their direction. "Now, boys, I want you to listen and I want you to be calm and rational about it. Just know we will do everything in our power to help."
The two looked at each other in confusion before looking around the room further. There was a chalkboard, several desks with documents and quills, a silent clock on the wall, a multitude of chairs-
-and a window!
Not like the window letting in the birdsong next to them, a window stuck in the middle of the fabric of reality showing the view of the portrait hall in Hogwarts!
They were in the portraits!
The two rushed up from their seats and ran at the 'window' in reality. Instead, they found it like an unbreakable glass. Banging against it furiously did nothing for it and the other side of the window was just blackness.
Fred whirled around to the three worried characters. "How can we get out of here?" He demanded, desperately.
"I'm afraid we don't know, son." The old man replied. "As far as anyone has ever known, this has never happened before."
A few doors just outside of the view of the main portrait 'window' opened and characters from other portraits came in, talking rapidly over one another about the two newest arrivals.
They shared a look between themselves.
"Oh shite."
He was swimming.
It was a really nice day out, too. A calm, summer day with the cartoony-fluffy clouds drifting across the sky like flat-bottomed balls of cotton. There was a lake by his house that had really clear water and was stream-fed from nearby hills, so it was always cool and refreshing even on really hot days like today.
His mom told him to get outside a bit more, so this was the best way to do it. No muss, no fuss, and no nagging for him to get off of his video game consol.
He floated on his back, enjoying the warm sun on his front and the cool water on his back. Yeah, this was pretty awesome.
*Boom!*
His eyes shot open as the scene shifted suddenly to a very different place. Instead of the calm lake by his home, he was at the beach, or rather in the ocean almost 200 feet from the beach. The waves were enormous around him as the dark, dismal sky above crackled with lightning and poured down rain. A small fishing boat was overturned a few feet from him, the blurry figure of his older brother barely visible clutching onto it, calling out his name over the wind.
"Ben! Swim back to me! Swim back!"
He tried, but the current was too strong against his legs and kept pulling him away from the boat, further out to sea. Another wave crashed over his brother and pushed him further towards shore where he could make out his mother screaming at the top of her lungs for the both of them. A lighthouse had its beam spinning in the dark and heavy rain.
The coast guards were probably revving a boat, but the waves were too strong. They'd been out for too long and didn't see the storm approaching. It was their own fault.
The undercurrent pulled him further away, a wave crashed over his head, stinging his eyes with salt water and making him cough and sputter. The shoreline was getting smaller, the figures getting blurrier in the distance, the shouting becoming unintelligible. The lighthouse was barely a pinprick in the shroud of rain.
He felt an enormous pull against his body as the water heaved behind him into a massive wave. The arc of it towered over him and crashed down right on top of him. He was sent spinning in the confusing mass of freezing blue, frantically clawing towards the surface. He eventually broke it and looked around.
Nothing.
The shouts of his family were gone to the wind. The lighthouse was completely invisible. The waves were crashing all around him and, even still, the undercurrent was still pulling him down.
He had to keep his head above the water.
He had to.
It felt like minutes, hours, days, and the clouds parted above him, letting in a few faint rays of sunlight. He gasped, trying to reach out to it, but he felt his legs give out to the strain and begin to sink.
He looked up at the sun filtering through the water, slowly being obscured once again by clouds.
It felt like invisible hands were pulling him by his ankles; deeper and deeper.
Down.
Down.
Down…
Do…wn…
D…
He became aware of the world again. He could think… he could feel… he knew he was here, he was… somewhere, but…
He opened his eyes.
The world around him was filled with code, green text in an eternal black emptiness. He felt like he was floating in it. He was so confused. What was this? Where was he?
He raised a hand and found the text responded to his command, swirling in front of him into a ring; creating a portal to what looked like a medieval town. Several others formed as well, leading to a dark cavern, a forest, the ominous interior of a mill.
Seeing no alternative, he walked into the nearest one; the town. It was a desolate, Renaissance fair-style town with cobbled walkways and weird buildings. The streets were desolate and he walked forward, towards one of the nearest houses there. The room was empty of anything outside of bare-bones furniture. He found one of the pans hanging on the nail.
His reflection shimmered in passing-
…
He froze and rushed back towards the pan, ripping it off the wall and using the distorted reflection to see his own face. It dropped with an echoing clang as he ran up the stairs in search of a proper mirror. Going in a bedroom, he found an intact mirror above a vanity.
His clothes had become a green tunic, white leggings, leather boots, some green man-skirt, and a matching green floppy hat. His hair was still blonde, but messier and a few inches longer. His ears were long; at least four inches and sharpened to a point, like elf ears.
But his eyes were completely different. He definitely remembered he had blue eyes, but now they were jet black with coal-red irises. Underneath, red blood dripped like tears from his eyes and onto the wood floor.
The Zelda look-alike slowly backed away from the nightmare, stumbling a bit as the world seemed to pitch under him. Then he bolted out of the house, not caring that he knocked over several objects on the way. He had to get out of there! He had to find someone who knew the truth!
He shouted in the stillness, "Is anyone here!? Anybody!? Please!"
He tilted his head up and collapsed to his knees.
BEN stared.
Eye-to-eye with a grimacing face on the enormous moon hanging in the sky above the abandoned city of Clock Town.
He shot upright, his glamoured heartbeat pounding against his chest like a hummingbird. His eyes had trouble focusing, but when he did he saw he was in an unfamiliar place, surrounded by stone walls and beds. A woman in a white dress and apron with a funny-looking hat hurried over and asked him some questions. They came out as jumbled jargon, so he could only stare in confusion before she rushed out to get someone.
It was all so confusing.
What happened?
Where was he?
Who…?
A tall man approached following the nurse. He shooed her away from his bed as he took a seat in the vacant chair next to him.
'BEN?' a voice echoed in his mind.
Ben?
Benjamin?
BEN?
BEN.
"Slendy." He murmured, memories flooding back in place. "What happened?"
"I'm afraid you had an incident. You panicked severely when you discovered you were under water-"
"I was under water?" He interrupted. "How? When?"
The older figure held up a hand, "You weren't directly underwater, you were actually in a room that happened to be underwater, but there was a skylight showing the lakeview and you were unfortunately just beneath it. You've been unconscious for two days."
BEN sat up in his bed, but the warden of the hospital wing rushed over, "Oh, no, young man, you're not leaving just yet. You've only just woken up!"
"What?! C'mon, lady, it's been two days! I'm fine." He insisted angrily.
She put her hands on her hips and glared him down, "I believe I am the matron of this hospital wing, young man. I will dismiss patients as I see fit and, lastly, it's impolite to just call a woman 'lady'."
The virus-boy sat back in the pillow, pouting over childish treatment as she waved her wand over him to run final diagnostics. As he sat waiting, his eyelids felt a lot heavier. "This is stupid," he mumbled. "I slept for two days an' I'm tired again."
He let out a yawn and turned blearily to Slender, "I don't think I'll be goin' to the Sl'ther'n room ag'n. K, Sl'nd'y?" His speech became broken as his mind retreated further back into unconsciousness.
He was alone.
The void of black and green text was around him once more, but he was still trapped in the game. His game, as he'd discovered. Weeks of exploring the code made him realize this was his own cartridge of Majora's Mask. He was caught in his own game.
Talk about irony.
He sat, pouting and floating in the void, entertaining himself by angrily deleting key components of code that would cause glitches and disruptions at the very least.
*Ping*
His head jolted up at the foreign, but familiar sound of a consol booting up. Suddenly, the void around him exploded into color and sound. He found himself floating above the blocky terrain of the forest that loaded into existence. He saw pixels coalesce into a Link Player on Epona trotting along the path and watched the familiar cut-scene as Link fell into the game's plot.
He followed the player as they moved Link around. He couldn't help but grin.
Something interesting at last.
He was free!
He glided through the infinite array of blocks and websites and nodes, exploring the vast enormity of the Internet, itself. He was as free as a bird in a sky as big as the Universe.
The world was his oyster and he was going to have fun with it!
That guy he'd been taunting and playing with for the past few months had accidentally allowed him a connection to the Internet and he found the ropes easy enough. The main opportunity came when he uploaded his final post. The guy had been sloppy and allowed a window for him to wait inside the file as he uploaded it online. After that, it was easy to just hop out and enjoy what the world had to offer.
A small, gaming forum caught his attention first off. He saw the data stored and ready to be sold as a brand new game throughout the world! So cool! He browsed the files available, noting a few interesting Flash games and even some online renderings of old Nintendo games! They even had independent programmers offering their work up as downloadable content. One guy offered this one game that (from the snapshots and description) sounded really enticing.
Then… he looked through the game itself…
The code was all red! Viruses, Trojan Horses, heck it even fished for their credit numbers when they bought the damned game!
He couldn't remember much before the first Awakening anymore… but he knew he HATED cheaters, hackers, and scam artists. To do that to him on the internet just from normal content, he considered criminal.
To do that to a game?!
Was unforgivable.
The entity sat on the floor near his latest victim. The 30-something-year-old guy's eyes had been blown out of his skull like lightbulbs from the strong electrical surge he'd pumped out of the computer. The corpse even still twitched from stray sparks.
In the other room, the bloody mess of his rotten girlfriend sat in an overflowing tub. He scowled; even the tub's meager amount of water made him anxious.
He caught them trying to run an illegal pirating scam on games sold in Asia and the Americas. They were making bank off of basically copying/pasting the content and sometimes shifting some code around (inevitably destroying the game in the process). These people ruined gaming for everyone, so he expressed his rage on them pretty often.
But he didn't feel… happy.
Yeah, killing them in bloody, gory, creative ways was pretty fun… he even managed to mimic one of Mortal Kombat's "FATALITY" moves on this one creeper in his basement. He was interested to discover the spine really could snap out like that in one, fluid motion if you did it right (it's all in the wrist). Plus, he enjoyed reading the news reports these days; 'Mysterious Killer on the Loose', 'Another Victim Found Electrocuted without Cause', 'Pirating Scam Uncovered with Head of Operation Discovered Forcibly Drowned in Bathtub'. It initially felt pretty cool being talked about on the Evening News.
But after a few months of freedom, wandering the internet, sometimes trolling the Semi-Deep Web (like the kiddie pool of the Deeper-Deep Web) for kicks and giggles, he'd grown bored.
It was kind of lonely just drifting through cyberspace. Yeah, sometimes he'd Omegle someone with a fake webcam video feed he'd stolen from someone else, but it wasn't really much. It had lost its luster and he felt like there wasn't a reason to keep doing this.
He leaned back on his hands as he stared up at the ceiling… that was an ugly mold stain up there, he noticed. He looked down at the long-dead guy, "You really need to do a better job of house-keeping."
He used two fingers to grab the chin and maneuver it, muttering in a falsetto out of the corner of his mouth, "Yeah, I really let this place go to Hell, didn't I?"
"So what was your life like?"
"Oh, you know, I was just someone trying to ruin the Internet one game at a time while essentially stealing as much money as I could from the poor sap gamers that bought it."
"And how'd that work out for you?"
"I dunno, I can't see it, but I can tell ya that your super-awesome electrical powers totally zapped my eyes out and I believe it fried what squishy gray-matter I had in my skull."
"Oh, RocketDickMan42553, you are a card. A-ha. A-ha. A-ha." He said monotonously, dropping the head back to the floor and sighing.
Yep.
This really was… something.
…
The monitor to his side flickered and he glanced over at it. The screen became distorted as it wavered and a few colors inverted themselves haphazardly. "What the…?"
He caught a glimpse of the monitor's reflection and turned around-
-to the blank faceless figure standing behind him.
He spoke telepathically, like an X-man. He loved those comics… or at least he thought he did. Memories got fuzzier and fuzzier as time went on. He was offered a place to stay, a place to live. A place to give him purpose instead of drifting endlessly in the Internet.
He had accepted.
And never looked back.
Slender sighed as BEN nodded back off into dreamland. "Is he alright?"
Pomfrey nodded calmly, "Yes, I'm afraid that's just a condition of some of the potions I've given him. He'll be a bit lethargic and drowsy for the next week or so, but it will pass easily. He's probably also just very exhausted from whatever gave him such a fright in the first place."
She nodded worriedly towards the twisted sheets around his legs that he had been kicking at frantically just moments before shooting upright. She waved her wand and the bedspread righted itself over the snoozing figure. Slender nodded in thanks as he lamented to himself how this could have all been avoided.
Poppy continued, "I recommend he stay for another hour and then he can go home with you, sir."
"Yes, thank you, that's fine." He agreed, waving his hand in acknowledgement.
The matron walked away, gathering some materials and sanitizing areas with her wand. Slender was just left to his musings. Less than 3 days in and already something went wrong.
This did not bode well.
He honestly wondered when the next shoe would drop for them.
The Hospital Wing door slammed open and both he and a startled Madame Pomfrey turned to see LJ rushing in, panting. "Hey, *huff* we've got a serious problem."
Of course.
Fred and George were currently running through the Amazonian section of the portrait hall on the fourth floor. As pranksters, they were always up to another adventure, but being in the portrait realm meant there were a lot of sudden scene shifts and not enough inns or pubs to rest up at.
They were almost skewered by spears and a pollaxe at the eternal battle between the Saxons and the Normans on the second floor. From there, they dropped through a hidden portrait trap door into a safari area on the sixth floor where they were simultaneously almost gored by a rhinoceros and mauled by a lion. Falling into a watering hole in the safari caused them to fall out of the ceiling in the 'intellectual's hall' on the fifth floor (which was equally deadly in how they were almost bored to death by several portraits' outdated theories on whether or not the world was flat or square).
They escaped the theorists and were almost crushed by farmyard debris while being flung 'round and 'round in the tornado from the portrait of Elphaba the Wicked.
Elphaba guided them on her broom towards a ripped-out section of door flying haphazardly through the debris. The door dropped through into the jungle canopy they were currently running through.
"George! What kind of bloody creatures are those?" Fred called as they ran.
"They're muggle! They call them Giant Amazonian ants! Really, really effing big ants!" George shouted back. Behind the pair, the jungle floor was glittering black with thousands upon thousands of ants roughly the size of fingers clamoring over one another trying to overwhelm the pair.
Fred took a hard right and skidded to a halt just in front of an open cave system. "Whoo, that was clo-"
He was shoved forward by his twin as they fell together right into the endless pit of cave, the swarm clicking angrily at the top as their prey escaped. The pair fell through the chasm, but instead of reaching the bottom, they landed on an over-stuffed sofa, causing a flurry of feathers to fly out.
"I say! Are you alright?"
Once the double-vision left the duo, they looked around to find themselves at the room. They had landed in a large portrait of several men discussing politics over wine. They were already being escorted off the couch towards the tables by the wizards. One had already swished the feathers back into the stuffing and repaired the cushions.
"Here, sit down, boys. Have some wine or cheese." A wizened, bald old man offered, gesturing towards the table.
"We're underage," Fred replied dazedly, incapable of really thinking anything else.
One of the men mumbled about 'ridiculous modern concepts' as he downed the glass of red wine they'd offered. A younger man rolled his eyes and addressed them, "I presume you've just fallen through the Amazonian painting, then? Nasty ants, they have. We keep finding those buggers in the bread."
Fred grimaced and nodded in complete agreement. His twin spoke, "Please, sir, we're just trying to find someone we can talk to and figure out how to get home."
"Oh, are you from a different portrait, then? A bit of out-of-the-frame thinking and exploration?" The old man asked, kindly.
"No, we're students. As in proper students, here. We… er, accidentally got ourselves stuck in the paintings." George explained.
The old man's eyes widened, "Oh, I daresay that's a first. Now that brings up the question of whether a portrait really is under political jurisdiction if there is plausible travel between dimensions."
The Weasley Twins groaned as the philosophers and politicians began arguing and debating over their newest idea.
"Georgie!" Fred tapped against his shoulder anxiously and ran straight up towards the 'window' to the real world. LJ was currently wandering the hallways, looking around at the enormous portraits and how they moved. He didn't have his white face-paint (at Slendy's insistence), but kept his black lipstick and black eyeshadow. "LJ! Jack! Over here!"
The clowny teenager looked around in confusion until the frantic waving and shouting brought his attention towards the portrait where two familiar figures. He leaned in closer, "Fred? George? Wait, is this just a portrait or a prank or something?"
"No, it's us!" Fred called out desperately, "We got trapped here by Emily, the girl in the painting guarding your room! You've got to help us get out! Please!"
LJ looked surprised and a little anxious as he thought it out, "Okay, I'll go run and find Sle- er, Solomon. You guys stay put… or, actually, can you get back to Emily's portrait, or at least as close as possible?"
"We'll try." George promised. LJ nodded resolutely and ran straight down the hallway in search of his guardian.
Fred interrupted the bickering of three characters over the philosophical debate of their own sentience, "Excuse me! Could any of you point our way towards the portrait hall by the guest rooms?"
The figures discussed among themselves and the younger philosopher spoke, "You'll want to go to the next portrait over; The Arabian Nights. Explain it to Aladdin and he'll help you." He pointed towards a door inset into the wall to the right of the 'window'.
The duo ran through it and found themselves in the middle of a cave of jewels and gold coins. They'd stop and stare a bit more if it weren't for their urgency (and the fact that portrait gold wouldn't be real). They found several men in some ornate, circular ottoman seats, all Arabian.
"Excuse us, which of you is Aladdin?" Fred asked.
A young man with a grimy oil lamp at his hip stood up from the seat. "I am, good sirs. What brings you to the Cave of the Forty Thieves?"
"We're just trying to get home." George explained, exasperated. "We've been speared by warriors, eaten by lions, chased by ants, fallen through pits, and gotten our ears talked off by politicians!"
Another man nodded, finger to his chin, "Ah, yes, the Sultan I remember was a rather long-winded man."
"Did he ever go on a full debate over whether or not the cheese was moldy?" Fred asked. "It was literally growing green spots! The counter-argument was that it was just 'quality aged cheese bits'!"
"Yes, that does sound like him." The man laughed.
Aladdin waved his hand to grab attention, "Back to the matter at hand, what do you need from me, exactly?"
"We're trying to get back to the portrait hall by the guest rooms. The portrait next door said you could help."
The man thought a while before snapping his fingers and rummaging through the mounds of coins and jewels and hefting out a large coil of heavy cloth. "Ah, here we are. Haven't used this in quite some time."
He rolled it out on the floor and it turned out to be a beautifully woven rug. He sat down towards the front end of it and looked back at the pair expectantly. "Well? What are you waiting for? Hop on." He patted the area of carpet behind him.
The two hesitantly sat down behind him and jumped in surprise as the carpet lurched upwards and levitated in place, flowing around them in an unfelt wind. The swath of cloth suddenly glided forward with increasing speed through the large caverns and tunnels of gleaming treasure and rock. The two Englishmen gripped onto the rug tighter. Aladdin laughed at their expressions, "What? Have you never been on a magic carpet before?"
"First time, really! Their banned in the UK!" George called back over the wind.
The older man shook his head sadly, "A shame, I bet on one of those flimsy Northern broomsticks, you couldn't do… this!"
They screamed as he turned a hard left and pulled a fully loop-de-loop in a larger cavern before zooming forward upside down and finally righting himself. Fred gave a weak chuckle as they leveled out. "Nope. Definitely never seen that before."
The carpet continued forward through the maze until they reached a dead-end, but Aladdin kept urging the carpet forward. "Uh, Al?" George asked anxiously, eyeing the very solid stone wall. "Aladdin?!"
They began shouting as they got closer and closer to the rock face.
Prepare for impact!
"Open Sesame!"
They watched as the rock face slid apart in an instant, allowing the carpet safe passage through the opening. They found themselves in the inky void between portraits for a while before the carpet navigated around. They caught glimpses of other portraits; the Drunk Monks, the Hunter Party, even the Fat Lady, before finally gliding through into the first portrait they'd arrived in just after Emily dragged them through.
Fred and George breathed a sigh of relief at the familiar surroundings. "Thanks, Al." The man bowed and flew back through the ceiling on the carpet.
"Welcome back, boys." One of the women said cheerily. "Any luck finding help?"
George nodded just as he noticed a figure appear in the 'window' to the real world. The twins rushed over to it and began pounding on the 'glass'. "Mr. Lindermann! Over here!"
The older man took notice of the two at last and gave a deep sigh, seeming to try to collect himself. "And just how did this happen?"
The twins heard a giggle right next to them, signifying that Emily was listening, "I did that, sir. They wanted me to let them come 'in', so I did."
"By dragging them into a portrait?" The guardian questioned.
"Yep, but then they ran away from me. So rude! So, I just… let them go. Teach them a lesson about leaving a picnic early." She cackled, a pretty far cry from her earlier giggle.
"Regardless, I believe you need to help them get out." The twins heard a 'hmph' and imagined her turning away, arms crossed, and pouting. Mr. Lindermann was not amused, "Let me rephrase. Get. Them. Out. Now."
The portrait hall trembled and went silence at the ominous voice, not even Emily spoke. The twins looked at each other anxiously before a wall next to them suddenly split as a white trellis archway practically strangled with red rose vines appeared. Through it, they could see the meadow and sky of Emily's portrait. Without a second thought, they both ran through it, for once relieved to be back with that psychotic character.
The archway sunk into the ground, disappearing after they walked through it, but both of them ignored that and ran up towards the 'window'. They stopped just short of it and Fred looked over at the character confused, "Er, how does this work, exactly?"
She rolled her eyes, "Go through the window, of course."
The two took a few hesitant steps closer to the window when they felt the world suddenly pitch beneath them. It felt like the entire ground was suddenly shifted at an upward angle, causing them to fall forward and right out of the window, sprawling on the cold stonework of Hogwarts.
George looked around and laughed in relief, "Land! Sweet, glorious land!"
"I believe, dear brother, you mean 'Reality! Sweet, glorious, huge-arse-ant-free Reality." Fred grinned back.
"Ah-hem."
They turned back and saw the tall guardian looking down at them with cold, black eyes. "Care to explain how this all happened in the first place?"
"Er, well, you see-" They stammered over each other until the dainty cough from Emily drew their attention. She gestured with her finger towards Sol who leaned in closer to hear her whisper something through the canvas.
"Ah." He turned to the sweating twins, "Emily has informed me that you were trying to access our rooms."
"Er, a prank!" Fred exclaimed. George nodded fervently, "Yeah, we were going to try to prank you guys. Nothing harmful, just… a…"
He trailed off at the unblinking, silent gaze of Mr. Lindermann. The furious, loud, and explosive gaze and guilt of their mother they had years of experience with and could ignore it easily.
This…?
"Uh, er, George?" Fred tried. The twin just shook his head. Neither one could miss how the guardian hadn't taken his eyes off of them in the first place.
After almost a full minute of silence and intimidation, they reluctantly brought out the map and murmured the passcode into it. They pointed out their figures and outlines along with BEN's and how the map worked. Afterwards, the man just kept watching the map silently.
"…I see…"
Despite it being hardly above whispering level, it felt like it was boomed through the halls with a Sonorus.
They hurriedly started babbling, "Don't worry, though! Your secrets are entirely safe with us. We won't tell anyone. Marauder's Honor. Not even Dumbledore."
The guardian opened his mouth to say something, but caught a side-glance at LJ. He paused, "I know boys, because if we find out that our secrets were let slip, we will come to you first and the results will be… unpleasant."
The last word echoed in their mind unnaturally, seeming to reverberate the hallways of their mind. Without another word, the figure turned on his heel and walked away.
As the footsteps disappeared into the distance, EJ breathed an enormous sigh and leaned against a wall. Then, he bounced back, grinning and shook both their hands, "Congrats you two! You survived Slendy!"
"Wait, 'survived'?" Fred asked, appalled, "You mean he might've killed us?!"
"In a heartbeat," The teen replied solemnly, then turned right around and beamed, "But he didn't! And that's what matters!"
The two felt blood pool out of their faces and the room started swaying. "Hey, hey, now, c'mon. You're both alright and you got out okay. Slendy's not one to let something slide so easily, he's pretty protective of our secrecy. So just don't tell anyone our names and stuff and we'll be okay. Alright?"
Fred and George just nodded dumbly. LJ started walking away before George spoke up, "Hey, wait, can we ask what your name is?"
The clowny teen's grin widened exponentially, allowing razor-point teeth to show through his glamour and his paper-white skin tone to take over the fleshy hue of the disguise, "Laughing Jack, at your service, LJ for short. Talk to Harry if you want anything. Who knows, maybe someday we'll tell you it all."
He reapplied the glamour, his bone-white face returning to a normal tanned-skin hue and grinning with human-esque teeth. The twins watched the monochrome teen walk away almost cartoonishly, mumbling a muggle song they'd heard at the village.
"Hm hm-hm hm-hm-m-m-hm, pop goes the weasel."
They were left behind as the cackles echoed through the halls.
AN: Overall, I'm good with how this turned out. The twins may appear more often. ;)
BEN's story is a little improvised.
At the moment, Hermione is... not necessarily an enemy, but not a friend. I have plans, don't worry.
Elphaba the Wicked comes from the 'Wicked' musical.
I hope you enjoyed!
-Crow