Fred was in favor of skipping dinner on Wednesday, just in case Miss Pettigrew finished early. "We can always go down to the kitchens and eat dinner after curfew," he said as he settled into a corner of the entrance hall.

"And if we get hungry while combing the trophy room for any mention of Peter Pettigrew?" George asked.

"That's not going to happen," Fred said.

"Maybe not to you," George said. "You can wait out here for Pettigrew if you want, I'm getting food."

Charlie gave George a funny look when he came in by himself, but George shrugged it off. "We're twins, not attached at the hip," he said as he sat down next to Charlie. "Fred got caught up in something, but I'm hungry."

Charlie did not comment as George shoveled steak-and-kidney pie into his mouth as fast as he could chew, but George wrapping a couple of slices in his handkerchief and pocketing them proved too much for him to resist. "You're not going to make Fred come down here and get his own food?"

"Who says any of this is for Fred?" George asked. He grabbed a handful of celery sticks as a nod towards healthy eating. "Well, I've got loads to do. See you round." George skipped out of the Great Hall and took up residence in the corner with Fred.

Fred did not seem to notice George's presence, so intent was he on the map and the labeled dots swarming in the Great Hall.

"You know, Miss Pettigrew might like it better if we waited out in the open like normal people," George said.

"Waiting in the corner is normal, George," Fred said absently. "It makes it less likely for people to trip on you. And he's still sitting in Percy's dormitory, rather than coming down for dinner. You know, I've been checking this map all day and Peter Pettigrew spent the entire time in Gryffindor Tower. He didn't even go to class!"

"You'd think McGonagoll would put up a fuss about that," George said. "Unless-"

"If he were actually sick he would be in the hospital wing," Fred said. "Percy would have dragged him there, remember when the curly-haired one-"

"Graham Hopkins."

"-caught cold and couldn't be bothered to pop in for a Pepper-Up Potion." Fred paused, frowning. "I'm not really sure what this tells us, but it doesn't make sense."

"We're missing something," George said. "Have you actually seen Peter Pettigrew move, or has he always sat in the same spot?"

"No, he moves around. Not a lot. Mostly around his dormitory, down into the common room... he's been up to Charlie's dorm a few times but that's it," said Fred. "So unless Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs went to all the bother of enchanting a extra dot to move around-"

"-with the sole purpose of confusing anyone who managed to find their map and work out the password-"

"-there really is some bloke named Peter Pettigrew sleeping in Percy's bed every night," Fred finished. "Got any more theories?"

George shook his head, although he was already starting to feel an idea tickling the far corners of his mind. Unfortunately, it was blown clean out by a shout from near the staircase, "So that's where you two are. I hope you don't mind, but I brought my friend Sabrina along. She's great at finding things!"

Agatha Pettigrew turned out to be remarkably ferocious for a small, first-year Hufflepuff. By the time they had reached the trophy room she had already detailed a thorough search plan to an enthusiastic Sabrina and the rather less enthusiastic twins, including how each of them would sweep their quarter of the trophy room. She even had the foresight to assign Fred and George sections kitty-corner to each other so that they couldn't distract each other when they were supposed to be searching.

It was thirty minutes into the search, and Fred was starting to regret ever suggesting looking for Peter Pettigrew in the trophy room, when Agatha called them all over.

"I found him," she announced, as she happily pointed to a large plaque hanging on the wall engraved with lines of names. "Not the award for special services to the school, but his team won the N.E.W.T. Transfiguration Competition."

"That's great," George said. "You could ask McGonagall about him, I bet she'd remember him."

"I will, thanks," Agatha said. "I suppose I could write his friends, too."

"Friends?" Fred asked.

"The people he won the competition with," Sabrina said. Her tone of voice was polite enough, but the roll of her eyes suggested that she thought it was frightfully obvious. "They wouldn't have worked together if they didn't at least know each other."

"That doesn't mean that they stayed friends after they left Hogwarts," said Fred.

Sabrina looked at him as though he had something unpleasant dribbling down his face and she was trying not to make him feel two uncomfortable about it.

"No, I think they were still friends," Agatha said softly. "James Potter's on here!"

"The James Potter?" Sabrina asked. "Harry Potter's father?"

"Who else could it be? They would have been about the same age, since Uncle Peter was father's younger brother. And," Agatha added, as though she could somehow sense Fred's lack of satisfaction with her explanation, "they both fought against You-Know-Who. They would have worked together if nothing else."

George leaned over Agatha's shoulder so that he could read the other two names off of Peter's row. "Along with Remus Lupin and Sirius Black."

"Not Black," Sabrina said. "He's in Azkaban. My brothers told me about it when I was little. Apparently, he was secretly working for You-Know-Who and when he was found out he blew up an entire street, killed thirteen people with a single curse."

"So you could write Remus Lupin," said George.

Fred smiled. "Well, it's starting to get late, so we should probably head off," he said. "Unless you still wanted to find the award for special services to the school. I don't think it had anything written on it about what it was for."

"Oh no, I've got a teacher to corner and a letter to write," Agatha said. "Thank you so much for helping me look through the trophy room."

"No trouble at all," Fred said with a flourish and a bow.

Agatha blushed. Sabrina rolled her eyes and elbowed Agatha. "Ask them about the kittens," she whispered loudly enough that the twins could hear.

Agatha grimaced. "No, they're not quite old enough-"

"They're ten weeks," Sabrina countered, "and you spent all last week fretting because your mother said you couldn't keep any and you were afraid you wouldn't be able to find good homes for them."

"What's this about kittens?" George asked before he girls could get caught up in an argument that he didn't quite understand."

"Agatha's cat had kittens," Sabrina said, "and she needs to find people to take care of them. Do you want one? Or two? My mum won't let me keep more than one, and there's four of them so..."

"Well-" George began.

"You don't have to decide right now," Agatha said. She gave a pointed look to Fred, who had an expression appropriate to being hit in the face with a heavy object. "They're only ten weeks old, so I really shouldn't be giving them out for a couple of weeks."

"Right," George said. "We'll think about it. Good night." He took Fred by the arm and steered him out of the trophy room.