--- CHAPTER FOUR---

Breaking Curfew

As soon as I made it up to my room I rummaged through my trunk for an hour before I found what I was searching for. His name wasn't mentioned in any of my school books, but it was in the issue of the Daily Prophet I had read when Sirius Black first escaped. I had kept it, simply out of bizarre interest on the subject.

And there's where I found his name.

…Sirius Black has been known to be working with the Dark Lord, and should be considered highly dangerous. The mass murderer has killed dozens—most famous of them being the assistance of the murders of Lily and James Potter. Wild and unstable, Sirius Black also took down friend and ally Peter Pettigrew, leaving nothing but his finger…

The article continued, but I had found what I was looking for.

Peter Pettigrew had been murdered twelve years ago. How the bloody hell could he show up on Hogwarts grounds today? It was ridiculous…impossible!

I must have been seeing things. There was nothing else to it. The Marauder's Map has never lied before, so I doubted it was a misprint. It must have just been my tired eyes that were seeing things. Although, why on earth my mind would make up the name Peter Pettigrew I have absolutely no idea. I didn't even remember the bloke until I saw the Prophet article again.

I had myself convinced that it was just a trick of the mind. It was simply my imagination…and I definitely didn't tell Fred and George. They teased me enough as it was without them believing me insane as well.

September faded swiftly into October, and the Quidditch season was quite suddenly upon us. Oliver Wood had called a meeting for the team to discuss new tactics for the season. The Gryffindor team of seven consisted of three Chasers: Katie Bell, Alicia Spinnet, and myself, two Beaters: Fred and George Weasley, one Keeper: Oliver Wood, and a Seeker: Harry Potter. All of us were standing around the Quidditch Pitch in a semicircle. Why we had to meet on the pitch was beyond me. I suppose Wood thought the setting would put us in the right state of mind for the start of the season.

Oliver, who hadn't let up on reminding us all that this was his final chance to win the House Cup, was staring round at us all with a manic glint in his eye. Although he stressed the importance of winning to all of us on a daily basis, what we were really worried about was the fact that we were going to be in for longer, more frequent and more intense practices. We could also expect to be badgered on and off the field whenever Wood got the chance.

Bloody brilliant.

While Wood was talking strategy to the team, Fred, George, and I were taking care to ensure we were not listening. This was a common occurrence, as none of us really needed to hear anything Oliver had to say. He tended to babble on and get all hot and bothered…although, Katie, Alicia and I tended to quite enjoy it when that happened. His muscles tended to tense up and get sweaty…

Sometimes it was a shame my best mates were all blokes. I missed out on all the girly talk. Nothing sent guys running out of a room like a casual conversation about how attractive the seventh year boys are.

I digress.

As I was saying, Oliver Wood tended to go overboard with all of the Quidditch preparation. All we really needed to know was that Quidditch was important and to give it our best shot…otherwise, we'd risk having our heads bitten off by our burly Scottish captain. Done and done.

So, instead of taking in Wood's little speech, the twins and me decided our time would be better spent mocking him.

Fred and George stood behind their captain, pushing their chests out importantly and began to move their mouths to match what Wood was saying. The three of us girls were laughing madly at them, and were trying desperately to contain ourselves. Of course, we weren't very good at it. Once one of us let out a peal of laughter, the rest of us were pretty much a lost cause.

Harry seemed to be the only one paying any attention to dear ol' Oliver Wood.

That was probably why Harry was his favourite.

Oliver caught on fairly quickly that none of us were paying him any attention, and he turned around to catch Fred and George strutting around like morons, apparently pretending to be Wood.

"Would you two please stop it?!" he growled as his eyes met the goofy faces of the twins. He looked as though he could hex them into oblivion. I was surprised the twins didn't cower under his intimidating glare.

Alicia, Katie and I stopped laughing at the sound of his serious tone. Fred and George, however, continued to grin like idiots.

"As I was saying," Wood continued as everyone had fallen silent, "this is our last chance—my last chance—to win the Quidditch cup." He was striding up and down in front of us, staring at the ground in determination. "I'll be leaving at the end of this year. I'll never get another shot at it."

"We know, we know," George said.

"We've heard it before, Wood," Fred agreed.

"You can give it a rest," I put in.

He glared at us and we fell silent once more.

"Gryffindor haven't won for seven years now. Okay, so we've had the worst luck in the world—injuries—then the tournament getting called off last year…" he swallowed hard as we all recalled the events of the previous year with Ginny Weasley and the Chamber of Secrets. I avoided looking at the twins. "But we also know we've got the best—ruddy—team—in—the—school," he said, punching a fist into his other hand.

The manic glint in his eye was stronger than ever, and he continued.

"We've got three superb Chasers."

He gestured towards Katie, Alicia and me standing just off to his right. I did a curtsy. He rolled his eyes. Fred and George snorted in appreciation.

"Two unbeatable Beaters—"

"Stop it, Oliver, you're embarrassing us," said Fred and George together, pretending to blush. The laughter started up again.

"And we've got a Seeker who has never failed to win us a match!" Wood went on, raising his voice a little louder to be heard over our giggling. "…And me," he added as an afterthought.

"We think you're very good, too, Oliver," said George.

"Cracking Keeper," added Fred enthusiastically.

"The point is," Wood continued, pacing once more, "the Quidditch cup should have had our name on it these last two years. Ever since Harry joined the team, I've thought the thing was in the bag. But we haven't got it, and this year's the last chance we'll get to finally see our name on the thing…"

The expression Oliver wore on his face now kept everyone from laughing. He really did look terribly dejected. It even had Fred and George staring at him with a sort of furious determination.

"Oliver, this year's our year," Fred assured him.

"We'll do it, Oliver!" I said.

"Definitely," Harry agreed.

The determination level was high as Oliver dismissed us all, telling us practices would begin the following week. With a sweltering pride for our team, we headed back up to the castle through the dark grounds.

Fred and I walked alongside each other as George had run off to pester Alicia and Katie. Oliver had fallen eerily silent—lost once more in his Quidditch planning head. Although I was determined to bring the cup to Gryffindor this year, I knew we were going to be in for some terribly difficult practices.

"No need to look so worried," Fred said, noticing my distant expression. I was lost in thoughts of 5 o'clock in the morning practices and catching Quaffles in the pouring rain. "Or do you not think you're up for it this year?"

He was grinning cheekily at me when I looked up at his face in the growing darkness.

"You think I can't handle it?" I replied, feigning offense.

"Of course you can," he answered easily. "You've got me there to straighten you out when you run astray."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked with a scowl.

"Nothing," he said, "just that you have a harder time keeping your eye on the Quaffle than Snape has trying to wash his hair."

I scowled at him.

"But don't worry," Fred continued. "You've got George and me there to look after you."

He gave me a pat on the shoulder as though I was a little girl.

"I don't need your protecting," I stated irritably.

"Juliet, don't be daft. Without us you'd never survive a single game. Come to think of it, I don't think you'd survive off the Quidditch pitch either."

Fred grinned cheekily at me. I could tell he was hoping to get under my skin. He enjoyed teasing me relentlessly. Sometimes it was a bit tiring.

"Don't worry, love, big strong Fred won't let any of those nasty Slytherins lay their hands on you," he teased as we made it into the castle. The corridors were illuminated by torches, and I knew it was close to curfew.

I punched him in the gut, causing him to bend over in pain.

"I'd rather them lay their hands on me than you, Weasley," I shot back, listening to our voices echo off of the walls. The others hadn't made it inside yet.

"You're bluffing," he said. "You'd love to have my hands all over you."

I swiped at him again.

"You call that a punch, Christie?" he asked with a shove, sending me several paces backwards.

"That was low, Fred," I snapped.

He made a face at me and we both took off at a sprint. He sped down the corridor, taking several turns down halls I had never been through. I chased after him at top speed, but his legs are much longer than mine. By the time I had turned the last corner, he had disappeared.

"Fred?" I called into the darkness.

Nothing but silence answered.

"Bloody hell, Fred, we've got to get back to the tower."

There was still no answer. I huffed and stared around at the darkness. There were no lights, and I knew we'd be in trouble if someone spotted us out of bed so close to curfew. Oliver had talked for an awful long time.

Carefully I crept down the hallway, peering around doorways as I went, terrified that at any moment I'd run into Filch or Snape lurking in a corner.

"This is ridiculous," I said to myself, reaching inside my pocket for my wand.

I pointed it into the darkness and was just about to illuminate it when someone grabbed me from behind.

I screamed out in terror and spun around on the spot frantically.

Then I heard laughter…Fred's laughter. I turned to find him doubled over, pointing at me in hysteria.

"That's not funny you prat!" I yelled, smacking him.

"It was pretty funny," he said in between his gasps for air. He seemed to find this utterly hilarious.

"You scared me half to death!"

"I know!" he said. "It was bloody funny! I haven't heard you scream like that since George and I filled your socks with earwigs!"

I grumbled at the memory and stomped on Fred's foot. He barely winced from the pressure.

"You're a jackass," I said.

"Oh, have a sense of humour," he said, straightening up. He was still chuckling, and he wiped tears away from his eyes. "And you told me you didn't need protecting," he said, shaking his head disappointedly.

I rolled my eyes at him angrily. "Protecting from you, maybe," I grumbled. "Can we please go back to the tower?"

I turned on the spot to leave without waiting for an answer. It was then that I realized I had no idea where we had come from.

"Umm…where are we?" I asked, spinning around and squinting into the darkness. I hadn't the faintest idea which direction we had entered the corridor.

Fred did a similar rotation before frowning.

"I think we came from this direction," he told me, steering me down the corridor.

"I thought you knew Hogwarts like the back of your hand?" I asked smugly.

"I do, and I told you, we came from this direction."

"Do you have the map?" I asked looking up at him. His face was a mere shadow in the dark hallway.

"No," he shook his head, "George has it."

"Well that's bloody great," I said through the darkness. I raised my wand again so we could see where we were going when Fred grabbed my arm to stop me.

"Shhh…someone's coming," he whispered.

I listened carefully and heard footsteps coming towards us down the hallway.

"Come on," Fred said, yanking on my elbow.

He tugged me backwards down the hall and just as we turned around we came face-to-face with Professor McGonagall's stern features.

"Bloody hell," Fred muttered. "How do you do that?"

"May I ask why the two of you are out of your tower at this time of night?" she asked, ignoring Fred's question. She was definitely in a no-nonsense mood.

Fred and I looked at her sheepishly. Would she really believe we had gotten lost on our way to bed?

"Funny story," Fred started.

"I am not in the mood for fairy tales Mr. Weasley," McGonagall interrupted. "The truth will suffice for now."

Fred opened his mouth to make up some far-fetched story, but I stopped him by speaking first.

"Honestly Professor," I said, "we got lost."

McGonagall looked at me in surprise and Fred sighed angrily at me.

"Is there a problem, Mr. Weasley?" she asked, turning back to Fred.

"We weren't lost," he said, "I know where I am."

"Oh bollocks Fred," I snapped back. "It's your fault we got lost in the first place."

"It's impossible for me to get lost in this school," Fred objected.

"Obviously it isn't, because you've managed it now, haven't you?"

"Enough!"

The two of us stopped bickering and glared at each other. When we tore our gazes away and turned to face Professor McGonagall she was looking angry…very angry.

"I would have thought the two of you were old enough to get back to your dormitories without adult supervision," she said. "But seen as how you have failed to report back to your tower before curfew, you will both serve detention tomorrow night with Mr. Filch."

Fred opened his mouth to protest, but Professor McGonagall silenced him.

"If you do not return to your tower immediately I will be forced to remove house points."

"But, Professor—"

"Mr. Weasley," she pressed.

"Yes Professor," the two of us said reluctantly.

Fred turned on the spot and began to lead me back to Gryffindor tower. It seemed he really did know where he was going. I followed him in silence, still angry with him for scaring me like he did. Bloody idiot.

"You made me sound like an idiot," Fred said angrily once we were out of earshot of Professor McGonagall.

"You are an idiot," I replied.

"I wasn't lost," he said.

"What difference does it make?" I asked. "We were in trouble either way. Everyone's tense because of the Dementors. It's lucky we only got one detention for being out of bed alone."

Fred shrugged and fell silent. Apparently he was pretty stung. He had always taken pride in his knowledge of the castle.

We walked quietly back up to Gryffindor tower, listening to the sound of our own footsteps. Neither of us spoke a word to each other, still angry over the events of the evening.

When we reached the Fat Lady portrait, Fred climbed through first without waiting for me. When I pushed my way through the entrance, he was already being greeted by George at the far side of the room.

"Where have you been?" he asked, surveying us in curiosity.

"We ran into McGonagall after dark," I told him. Fred still looked angry.

"We've got detention tomorrow night," Fred said as he slumped down on the sofa.

"With Filch," I added, leaning up against the back of the sofa. Fred and I didn't look at each other.

"Why'd you wander off?" George asked. "I didn't know where you had got to."

"Oh, I'm sure you were so worried about us," I said sarcastically.

"Well I was a little worried," George replied. "There are Dementors watching the grounds…Plus, it would take me months to train replacements for you two," he added with a lopsided grin.

"I guess it's lucky we returned then," I said sourly.

"What's wrong with the two of you?" he asked. "It's just detention with Filch. That's not so bad. It'll just be cleaning. Piece of cake."

Fred and I grumbled in response.

George cleared his throat.

"Right," he said awkwardly. "Well, seen as how you're both alright, I'm off to bed."

"G'night," I said half-heartedly as he thundered up the boys' staircase. Fred stayed silent.

"What are you so angry about?" I asked, once we were left alone in the common room.

Fred sneered at me, but said nothing. We stared each other down until I was fighting back laughter.

I bit my lip to keep myself from laughing out. Fred crumbled first and busted into chuckles.

I knew neither of us were sincerely mad, but we could both be so defensive at times that we tended to butt heads quite often. Our friendship was often dotted with minor friendly fights now and then. The competitive nature came out in both of us during those moments.

"You're such an idiot," I said, trying not to grin at him as we both laughed stupidly.

"What did I do?" he asked, staring at me from over the sofa. "It's your fault we got detention. If you hadn't screamed McGonagall never would have heard us."

"If you hadn't've jumped out and scared me I never would have screamed!" I protested.

"It's not my fault you're such a blithering baby."

Fred grinned at me, raising an eyebrow in defiance. He knew he had touched a nerve.

I launched myself over the sofa, tackling him to the cushions. We landed painfully—me on top of him—smacking our heads off of the hard arms of the chesterfield as we went.

"Hey!" he yelled, laughing hysterically once more.

"You're a bloody git," I said, smirking at him.

"What, you really think you could cause any harm to me, Christie?"

Fred rolled sideways in an attempt to pin me to the sofa. Instead he landed himself on the floor, taking me down with him. He rolled me over easily, pressing his chest against mine so I was stuck underneath his body weight.

I struggled against him and he merely laughed. His freckled face was grinning down at me, and his arms held my hands in place, preventing me from swiping at him. My legs kicked uselessly as he held me to the floor.

"Fred, let me go," I grumbled with difficultly. My airway was a bit constricted beneath the pressure.

"Not a chance," he said. "You need to keep that smart mouth of yours under control. All of the insults…" he tutted, shaking his head back and forth, "you really shouldn't say such things to your best mate, Juliet. Plus, it's not very ladylike."

"Since when have I been ladylike?" I asked, kicking at his ankles again.

"I never said you were," he countered. "But I think you ought to try. It's beginning to get confusing whether to refer to you as Juliet or switch your name to Julian."

"Bite me, Fred," I said as he grinned in satisfaction.

"Gladly," he said. "And give it a rest. I won't let you go if you're just going to swipe at me again."

I rolled my eyes and stopped struggling.

"Fine, you win."

"Damn straight," Fred agreed with an evil smirk. He didn't move.

"Now, are you going to get off of me?" I asked, staring up at him irritably.

"Hmm, this is a pretty compromising position," he said, effectively ignoring me. "What would someone think if they stumbled down here and caught us like this? What do you say? Want to kiss and make up first?"

I pretended to gag.

"You sure?" Fred teased, wagging his eyebrows and eyeing me suggestively.

"Get off of me, idiot," I answered.

He laughed and leapt off of me, leaving me to wrench myself up off the floor.

"All right, all right," he said, smoothing out the wrinkles of his clothes. "But it's your loss."

He gave me an animated wink and clapped me on the shoulder as he headed up for his dormitory.

"G'night, Jules."

I stared after him with a frown on my face.

"Goodnight," I grumbled.