A/N: Mystery solving? In my Hogwarts AU? It's more likely than you think.
This is the last one for tonight; I have to put the rest of the chapters in docs, so they'll be coming over the next little while. Thanks for reading!
After Madam Hooch had shooed him out, Thomas had slipped the boys a letter at breakfast the next morning. Meet me outside the Great Hall after breakfast.
After breakfast was over, William met George outside the Great Hall, underneath a suit of armour.
"Any idea what this is all about?" George asked him.
William shrugged. "I've no clue," he said.
Thomas emerged a moment later.
"What's this all about?" William asked. "What do you want from us?"
The prefect sighed. "I need your help," he said.
"Why us?" George asked.
"Well," Thomas smirked, crossing his arms. "I really only needed the Ravenclaw," he said, jerking a thumb at William. "Rumor has it he found Snape's missing potion last year. Even Dumbledore couldn't find it." He pointed at George. "You're only here because I don't trust you, and I don't want you to spill any secrets." He leaned in close to George. "So you'd better watch your tongue, Bugalugs, or else you might not have one anymore."
"Bugalugs?" George asked, finding the nickname far more offensive than the threat.
"Secrets?" William repeated, a little bit flattered. It was true, he had found Professor Snape's missing vial of Felix Felicis, Liquid Luck, last year, but he didn't really see it as that impressive. It had been obvious to him that whoever took it had to have been a second-year Ravenclaw or Slytherin; that was the only class that had potions at the right time to have the opportunity to take the vial. And really, when he found out that Slytherin was having tryouts for their Quidditch team that same week, it wasn't too large of a leap to figure it out. Still, it felt good to be recognized. "What secrets?" he asked.
Thomas shook his head, a lock of red hair bouncing on his forehead. "Not here," he muttered. "Too many people will hear us. We need to talk somewhere else."
George's solution was immediately offered. "The kitchens!" he cried, a little too loudly.
A few students glanced their way, then carried on.
"I can get us in there," George continued in a whisper. "You just tickle the pear, and you're in."
Thomas squinted. "How many other people know about that?" he asked.
George shrugged. "Most of the Hufflepuffs, I think," he said, scratching his head. "But there's never anybody in there, and I'm friends with some of the house elves, they can hide us."
So, at three o'clock, the boys met outside the kitchens.
When he'd arrived, Thomas had pressed a bottle of Butterbeer smuggled from Hogsmeade into the boys' hands. "Don't tell Margaret," he'd whispered. "I don't need any of the other prefects to know."
When they got inside and situated themselves at a small table, Thomas sighed, sipped a bottle of Butterbeer, and said, "Some ruddy Slytherin snapped my broom."
William and George, seated across the table from him, exchanged a glance.
"How do you know it was a Slytherin?" William asked.
"It bloody well wasn't a Hufflepuff," Thomas retorted, taking a drag from his bottle. He glanced at George. "No offense."
"None taken," said George, though, if he was being honest, he was a tad annoyed that people kept using his house as the butt end of jokes.
"Do you have any clues or anything?" asked William.
Thomas squinted. "I have a hunch,"
"Those can be unreliable," William warned. "So I wouldn't rely on it. What is it?"
Taking a long drag from his Butterbeer, Thomas swallowed loudly and placed the bottle on the table with a clack. "Well," he began. "I'm on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, keeper, you know."
George nodded. "I saw you play against Slytherin last week," he said, a big smile on his face. "I thought you were really good. I was impressed that you managed to pull off a Double-Eight Loop."
Thomas suddenly looked at George with a new interest. "You're a Quidditch fan, Bugalugs?"
George nodded. "It isn't nearly as fun to watch as hockey or wrestling," he said. "But it is exciting."
Thomas grinned. "I love Muggle sports," he said. "They're so much more physical than the wizard sports. I like to see the players really having to work hard to succeed, you know?"
"You ought to see the hockey team from where I live," George said excitedly. "They're the best in the league, they have-"
"If I might get us back on task," William interjected, clearing his throat. "You were saying-?" He flashed them a pointed stare.
Thomas blinked. "Right," he said. "Well, as you know, last week, we played against Slytherin, and we won." He took a breath. "After the match," he said. "Their keeper said something a bit off to me, and three days later, my broom shows up, snapped in half."
"What did he say?" asked William.
"She," said George.
"What?"
"She," he repeated. "The Slytherin keeper is a girl, Julia Ogden."
Blinking, William shook his head. "Fine," he said. "What did she say?"
Thomas swallowed another gulp of Butterbeer. "She tapped me on the shoulder after the match," he said. "And she said, 'Good match, you ought to try flying with a different broom, you never know when something might happen.'"
William hummed. "So you think she broke your broom to sabotage you for the next game," he surmised.
"That's about it," Thomas said.
Tapping his chin, William nodded. "That's not a bad hunch, actually." he said. "It's plausible."
"How would you figure out who did jt?" asked George, taking an experimental sip of the Butterbeer. He'd never had it before. He swallowed, his eyes widening, and quickly took another gulp.
"I'd need to search the Quidditch equipment rooms," said William. "And I'd probably need to talk to the Slytherin keeper…" he trailed off with a frown.
"What?" asked Thomas.
"I'd need to search the Slytherin common room," said William. "Which would be a problem." He pointed to each of them. "Ravenclaw, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, all the houses that aren't allowed in the Slytherin common room."
Thomas looked deep in thought. "Leave that to me," he said. "I think I have an idea, but I'd need to test it out. Meanwhile," he said. "You two go search the equipment rooms."
"Right," William nodded. "We'll meet you in the Charms corridor tomorrow at seven thirty. Most people will be out for breakfast then." He stood up to leave.
"Oi!" Thomas cried. "Hang on a moment, what do you want?"
"Want?"
"Your payment, you know," said Thomas. "I mean, you're using up your time for me. What do I owe you?"
William and George exchanged a look. "We don't want anything," said George and William nodded.
Thomas shook his head. "Don't do that," he said. "Never work for free, lads. People'll take advantage of you quicker than you can say 'lumos.'"
Pausing for a moment, William swallowed. "How about this, then," he said. "We're helping you, so you need to help us at some point in the future."
"I'm indebted to you," Thomas mused. "Classic, clean, simple." He smirked. "I like it." He held out both hands to the two boys. "Shall we make it official?"
George and William took his hands in theirs, and together, they all shook.
"Ooh," George said, wincing. "That broom is definitely out of commission."
The broom was snapped completely in half, with splintered edges and broom hairs lying loose everywhere.
"A Silver Arrow 700." He whistled. He'd give anything for a broom like that. "It's a shame," sighed George. "It really is a great broom."
"George," said William. "Stay on task." He'd examined each and every single broomstick in the Quidditch equipment room, trying to find something, anything that might be of importance. So far, the only thing he'd found out was that the broom maintenance skills of most Quidditch players were subpar at best. Broom hairs stuck out in all angles, the edges frayed and the shaft smudged and in need of a polish. Their uniforms weren't much better, covered in dirt and smelling strongly of sweat and the outdoors. He sighed. There wasn't much to find here. He glanced over his shoulder and called to his partner. "What have you, George?" he asked. He blinked. He liked the sound of that, what have you, George? It had a nice ring to it. He might use it again.
George's head peeked out from under a bench. "Not much, I'm afraid," he said. "Just a few odds and ends, some broom hairs, owl feathers, and...this potion recipe was right where the broken broom was." He waved a scrap of parchment in the air.
William's ears perked up at the word potions. "Let me see it," he said, walking over and taking the paper from George. He read a bit of the note.
Add salamander blood until the potion turns red.
Stir until the potion turns orange.
Add more salamander blood, this time until it turns yellow.
Stir until the potion turns green…
"This is a recipe for Wiggenweld potion," he said.
"That's a first year potion," said George. "We learned it last week."
William looked at the note again. "Very nice handwriting," he observed. "Probably not a boy's,"
"Well," George said. "It has to be a Quidditch player's," he said. "Nobody else would come in here."
Nodding, William smiled. "Very good, George," he said.
George beamed, feeling very pleased. "We'd need a way to figure out who's handwriting it is," he said. "Then we can figure out whose it is."
William lit up. "The uniforms!" he cried. "They've all written their names on the insides! We can figure it out from there!"
George stared at him in amazement. "You're a genius, William Murdoch," he said.
It was William's turn to feel pleased. "Thank you, George," he said.
After several minutes of comparing loops on L's and dots on I's, the boys looked at each other excitedly.
"It's a match," said William, holding a green keeper uniform in his hand.
George couldn't conceal his eagerness. "Are we going to get Julia Ogden busted? Bust into Slytherin and make her give the broom back?" he asked.
William tried to hide his amusement. Being around George was like being around an excitable puppy, and he got the sudden mental image of George as a tiny black labrador, rolling around in the sand and getting it caught in his fur. "We don't exactly have enough to bust her," he said. "Yet." he added with a grin. "Hopefully we find out more if Thomas manages to find a way to get us into the Slytherin common room." He stood up and patted George on the shoulder. "Good work," he said. "You're actually pretty good at this."
George's lopsided grin was equal parts odd and endearing. "Well," he said. "You know what they say about Hufflepuffs: we are particularly good finders."
The next day, all three boys met in the Charms corridor. William and George explained their find, and Thomas nodded.
"My hunch was right, I expect," he said. "I can't wait to see the look on Miss Ogden's face when I get my broom back."
"We still can't say for sure that it's her," said William. "We'd need to search the Slytherin common room."
"Lucky for you," said Thomas. "I think I may have figured something out." He pulled out his wand from his back pocket. "Our two problems," he said. "Are that we aren't Slytherins, and we don't know the password to get in. But," he said, smiling. "We don't need a password if we're small enough to fit under the door." He pulled out a crumpled ball of parchment and tapped out with his wand. "Reducio." It shrank down to the size of a pinhead.
"Is that safe?" Asked George. "On a person, I mean?"
Thomas nodded. "Should be. I tried it on myself earlier, I'm still in one piece."
"But won't they all be able to tell we aren't Slytherins?" Asked William.
Thomas' grin widened, and he pointed his wand at William's uniform. "Been working on this transfiguration all day," he said proudly. After saying the spell, William's blue robes changed to green, and even the embroidered crest changed from an eagle to a snake.
"There," said Thomas. "You're a proper Slytherin now," he winked at William. "It's not permanent, don't worry." He waved his wand, and all three boys were wearing Slytherin green. "There we are," he said, smirking. "Let's break into Slytherin, shall we?"
Julia Ogden curled up on the sofa, her textbook resting on her lap, completely alone, or, almost. She glanced across the common room at the only other person in the common room, James, the quiet first-year, staring out the windows into the lake. She wished she could tell what he was thinking. The poor boy didn't have many friends; most of the Slytherins ignored him, and most of the other houses hated him, it seemed. Julia felt bad for him.
"What is it, Julia?" asked James suddenly, startling Julia. He smirked slowly. "I can feel you staring at me from over here."
"Well," said Julia, her face flushing. "I was just…" she sighed. "Are you lonely, James?"
He paused for a moment. "No," he decided. "Should I be?"
Julia shook her head. "No," she said. "As long as you're alright with being alone, that's fine."
"Oh, I'm not alone," he chuckled. "I have friends."
"That's good."
He went on. "I have one friend who I'm quite close to, Robert, he's a Gryffindor, do you know him?"
She shook her head. "I'm afraid not," she said with a smile. "But that doesn't matter. As long as you're happy, it's fine."
His teeth shone in the firelight. "I am happy," he said. "Thank you for asking, Julia."
Suddenly, three boys appeared out of nowhere, as if they'd burst from the ground. Julia didn't recognize them, except….
Oh. She did recognize one of them. Thomas Brackenreid, the keeper for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. She rose to her feet, pulling her wand out from behind her ear and pointing it at them threateningly. "What are you doing here?" she asked. "You aren't Slytherins, get out."
Thomas rolled his eyes. "Gentlemen," he said, glancing at his companions. "This ray of sunshine is Julia Ogden, keeper of the Slytherin Quidditch team."
William looked at her, and he couldn't take his eyes away. She was prettier than he'd imagined her to be. Judging from Thomas' attitude, he'd imagined her to be about six feet tall, burly, and brown-haired. The girl standing in front of him was none of those things. She was slim, dainty, even, with delicate blonde curls tied up in a practical knot. Her face was like a China doll's, or, at least, it would be if she wasn't holding it in the fiercest glower that William thought he'd ever seen.
"What are you doing here?" she repeated through gritted teeth.
Thomas glanced at George, who gently elbowed William in the arm.
Blinking, William cleared his throat. "We, er…" He trailed off. Why were they here again? He thought. His mind had gone fuzzy. He just wanted to keep staring at her. She's very pretty- stop. Don't think about that, you have business here, she might be a thief. He shook his head and started over. "We're here to investigate."
She looked vaguely amused. "Investigating, huh?" she asked, resting one hand on her hip. "What are you investigating, exactly?"
"Stop playing games, Ogden!" snapped Thomas loudly. "You know very well that you stole my broom after last week's match."
Julia laughed dryly, without any humour at all. "Of course," she said, smiling sarcastically. "Your broom goes missing, so it must be the Slytherin! How original!"
"Not a huge leap, if you ask me!" cried Thomas, crossing his arms.
"Hey!" George stepped in between the two of them before they decapitated each other, or worse. "We didn't assume it was you!" he cried. "We found a note with your handwriting on it right where the broom was last seen." He pulled it out of his pocket and handed it to her. "That's yours, right?"
She took it, and examined it after one last withering glare at Thomas. She nodded after a second. "That's my handwriting," she said.
"Then you were there when the broom was taken," William said.
She held up a finger. "I said I wrote the note," she said. "I didn't say it was mine."
"But you wrote it," protested William. "It must be yours."
She shook her head. "I tutor a few first years in Potions," she explained, handing the note back to George. "I write out the recipes for them to study, this must belong to one of them."
"Hang on," said Thomas, stepping closer to her. "You told me last week at the end of the match to try out a new broom because something might happen to mine. Why would you say that if you weren't going to take it?"
She blinked. "I was trying to give you some helpful advice," she said. "My own broom was out of commission for three weeks, and I had a time trying to get used to those spares Madame Hooch has. I just wanted to warn you."
Thomas squinted at her suspiciously.
"It must have been one of the first years I tutor," Julia went on.
"But a first year wouldn't be inside the Quidditch change rooms," said George.
"You sure about that, Crabapple?" came James' smooth voice from behind Julia.
George's heart dropped to his heels. James Gillies, he thought.
James sidled up closer to him, a malicious grin on his face. "Don't think I wouldn't recognize you, even if you're in green instead of that god awful yellow," he said. "You're trying to solve mysteries now, huh?"
George's gaze fell to his shoes.
James giggled. "Too bad you can't even solve the problem that is you," he said. "Good luck solving anything else."
"Oi!" cried Thomas. "Five points from Slytherin!"
James eyed Thomas' prefect badge in disdain. He rolled his eyes, and glared at George before retreating back to his corner.
"James," snapped Julia. "Apologize."
Everyone looked at her in surprise.
"You're not my mother, Julia," said James. "You can't tell me what to do."
"I can't," agreed Julia. "But Professor Snape can, and I'm sure he'd agree with me that Slytherin's image doesn't need your brand of contribution."
James scowled at her. "This is Slytherin's image," he said. "This is what Slytherin stands for: being the best."
"No." The sheer power in her voice could have smashed a boulder in two. "Slytherin does not stand for putting others down to make yourself better. Slytherin is about striving to be the best you can possibly be. Slytherin is about aiming for perfection. That," she said, motioning towards George. "What you did there, was far from perfect. Apologize, now."
"No," snapped James.
"So you'd rather live up to the stereotype?" asked Julia. "You'd rather be the cruel, bullying, evil Slytherin? Wouldn't you want to challenge their expectations for once?"
He turned away without another word, and walked upstairs to his dorm.
Julia glanced at him with a sigh. She turned and smiled at the boy he'd been making fun of, and mouthed the word 'sorry.'
George grinned back at her. 'It's okay,' he mouthed back.
Sighing, Julia turned back to the other boys. "Look," she said. "I don't know what happened to your broom," she said. "I can give you a list of all the people I tutor, but that's about all I can help you with. Now," she took a breath in. "Would you please leave? You aren't supposed to be here."
George nodded. "That'd be nice," he said. "Thank you."
Julia smiled at him. He must be a Hufflepuff, she decided. Unlike many at Hogwarts, she saw the value of Hufflepuff house. It's one thing to be clever or brave or have big ambitions, but the world is full of people, and if you can't work with them, you can't do anything, really. In her experience, Hufflepuffs were often the most well-rounded witches and wizards at Hogwarts. She grinned. "I only tutor a few students right now," she said. "They… really need help." she breathed.
"Who are they?" asked George.
Julia thought for a moment, remembering their names. "James Pendrick, he's a Ravenclaw," she said, counting on her fingers. "Terrence Meyers, and Henry Higgins." she said. "Slytherin and Gryffindor," she added.
"Not bloody Higgins," Thomas groaned, rolling his eyes.
"You know him?" asked Julia, grinning.
"We've crossed paths," said Thomas testily. He sighed. "Come on, lads," he said to George and William. "Let's go."
Julia stifled a laugh. "Good luck," she said.
"Why are we here?" asked Terrence Meyers tiredly, leaning against the wall.
"Are we in trouble?" James Pendrick asked, looking worried.
Henry Higgins leapt up from the floor. "I didn't do anything, I swear!"
Thomas held up a hand. "You aren't in any trouble," he said. "Don't worry. Sit down, Higgins!"
Higgins sat on the floor.
Thomas had shoved the three of them, plus George and William into the boy's washroom on the second floor. "This is William," he said, motioning towards the Ravenclaw. "And this is George,"
"Hi, George," waved Henry.
George grinned. "Hi, Higgins." he said.
Thomas squinted at George. "You two happy dafties know each other?"
Henry's face flushed bright red. "Happy dafties?" he repeated under his breath.
"We sit next to each other in Charms," explained George.
"Perfect," Thomas rolled his eyes. He cleared his throat and went on. "You all are here because you get extra Potions tutoring from Julia Ogden."
They nodded.
"Well," he said. "One of you seems to have lost your recipe for Wiggenweld potion," he said, holding out the scrap of paper.
Terrence shook his head. "Not me," he said. "I've got mine." He sat back against the wall.
James Pendrick ruffled through his pockets for a second, then pulled out his own piece of paper. "I've got mine," he said. "Good thing too," he said. "I'd be finished in Potions today if I didn't have Julia's notes."
Higgins raised his hand sheepishly. "Um…" he began.
Thomas let out a long, deep sigh. "Don't tell me," he said. "It's yours."
He nodded. "I must have dropped it," he said. His face was red.
If it was possible, Thomas sighed his lungs inside out. "Crabtree, Murdoch!" he said after a moment of silence. "You can take Mr. Meyers and Mr. Pendrick out." he glared at Henry. "Higgins and I are going to have a little chat."
Henry gulped.
As he walked past, George whispered, "Nice knowing you," to Henry before walking out with William, Terrence and James.
The second the door swung shut, Thomas stared at Henry with eyes that bored deep into his soul. "Did you take my broom, Higgins?" he asked.
And that's when Higgins broke down.
"I didn't mean to break it," he sniffed, after he'd calmed down a little bit. "I just…I just wanted to try it out." He gulped. "I wanted to see what it would be like to ride a really good broom."
"So you broke in and took my broom for a joyride." Thomas finished, rolling his eyes.
"I didn't know it was yours," Henry sobbed. "And I didn't mean to break it. I just wanted to fly over the forest. But when I got up there, I was going too fast, and it started going down…" his face scrunched up and he started crying again.
Thomas wanted to strangle him. He wanted to scream at him, force him to either fix the broom or buy him a new one. And he probably would have, but for an echo in his brain. He didn't know why, but his mind had suddenly put forward the words Julia Ogden had spat in James Gillies' face earlier: 'You'd rather live up to the stereotype? Wouldn't you want to challenge their expectations for once?'
He suddenly was hit with the uncomfortable realization that he wasn't anything more than a Gryffindor. That was his whole identity. He stood for everything Gryffindor house stood for. He acted exactly like how a Gryffindor was expected to act. That was how he saw himself: the perfect Gryffindor, the Gryffindor prefect, the Gryffindor Keeper. Brave, bold, courageous, daring, competitive, reckless, stubborn, proud, he was all these things. He was exactly what a Gryffindor was meant to be.
Now that he thought about it, being a perfect Gryffindor was a pretty shallow way to be. What am I other than a set of personality traits? He wondered. He was a caricature, a shadow. Meant to look like it, but a cheaper, faker replica.
He wanted to be more, more than his house, more than a Gryffindor. He wanted to be a real, actual person. He wanted to make decisions based on his own convictions, not based on what his house should decide. He wanted Gryffindor to be a part of his identity, but not his whole identity. What kind of person do you want to be? He asked himself.
And then he made his decision. He knew who he wanted to be.
He looked up, right at Henry. "All right," he said. "The important thing is you didn't get hurt."
Higgins blinked, stopping his tears in surprise. "But, your broom-"
"I can get a new broom," Thomas said. "You can't get a new Higgins."
Higgins sniffed, breathing a small laugh. He wiped his eyes with his sleeve. "What are you going to do for Quidditch?" he asked.
Thomas waved his hand dismissively. "I'll use one of the spare brooms," he said. "It'll be a challenge for me to be amazing on a subpar broom, but I like challenges." He smiled at Higgins. "I forgive you." he said. "Just don't do it again." He stood up from the bathroom floor, chuckling to himself that he had a major moment of self-discovery in the second floor bathroom. "Come on," he said to Higgins, putting a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Let's go to lunch."
"So, you're not mad at Henry?" asked George the next morning at breakfast.
Thomas shook his head. "No."
"But I thought Gryffindors were supposed to be iron-willed," said William. "How'd he change your mind?"
"He didn't," Thomas said, glancing across the Great Hall at Higgins, laughing with his other friends. "I just thought about what being a Gryffindor meant to me, and I decided that Gryffindors should give second chances."
William nodded. "All right," he said.
"Oh, by the way," said Thomas, swallowing a mouthful of porridge. "I had an idea for how I can pay off my favour to you two."
"How?"
He smirked. "I'll help you out with your mysteries," he said. "This was fun, honestly, the best time I've had since I got to Hogwarts."
William glanced at George. "I think we'd love to have you," he said.
George grinned. "Welcome aboard, Brackenreid." he smiled.
"Make it official?" asked Thomas, holding out both hands.
The boys laughed, and they shook.
Across the Great Hall, James Gillies watched them sharply. He poked his friend. "They're going to change everything, Robert," he said.
Robert blinked, frowning. "What do you mean?" he asked.
Gillies crumpled up his napkin and threw it into the fireplace, watching it curl and burn. "It means," he said. "That we need to make sure they don't."