- CHAPTER FIVE-

The Ups and Downs of Detention

Friday evenings are much looked forward to amongst the student body. It's a time to relax after a hard week's worth of classes. For Fred, George, Lee, and I it was a time to relax not only after school, but after testing the effects of many Weasley inventions on unsuspecting first and second years.

It had become a tradition of sorts that the twins spend Friday evenings pestering the younger students. It allowed them to release some of their pent-up energy. There were many people who viewed this behaviour as immature (Hermione Granger and Percy Weasley amongst them), but most people appreciated a good laugh after a long week. Even the victims of these pranks seemed to get a chuckle out of it every once in a while.

Unfortunately, tonight's usual schedule of laughter and relaxation was to be cut short. At least for Fred and I, that is.

"Ready for detention?" Fred asked as he descended the boys' staircase into the common room. I was sprawled out on the couch by the fire, listening to Lee and George argue about some unimportant matter or another.

"Not really," I answered with a yawn, stretching myself out and closing my eyes.

Fred prodded me in an attempt to get me to rise, but I ignored him.

"You know, George, you could always go to detention for me…" Fred suggested.

"Um, no I don't think so," he answered.

"Is there any way you could go as me?" I asked him, sitting up in my seat.

"Yeah, you do look a lot alike," Fred said teasingly.

"Shut up!" I yelled, throwing a pillow at his head.

"Well come on then, we should leave," Fred told me.

He held his hand out to me, but I didn't make any move to accept it. Seeing I wasn't about to get up, Fred grabbed both of my arms and yanked me off of the couch.

I groaned and let him pull me up. "Do we have to?" I whined.

He rolled his eyes at me then in one swift movement threw me over his shoulder. He waved a goodbye to George and Lee and, despite my protests, carried me out of the common room door.

Once outside he placed me upright on the ground and smirked at me.

"Try that again and I may just have to curse you," I said glaring at him.

"Oh Jules, quit trying to resist me," Fred said cheekily, "It's never going to work."

I swatted Fred across the head and headed for Filch's office—ehm...closet is probably more the word—with Fred tailing closely behind.

"Glad to see you made it here without getting lost," Filch growled from behind his desk when we entered the room.

Fred nudged me again for making him look like an idiot; I rolled my eyes. I looked up at him and noticed that he was scanning the room, obviously trying to find something that would be worth stealing from Filch. I wonder if they ever get tired of it—searching for mischief.

"Follow me," Filch said getting up and hobbling out of the door.

Mrs. Norris, Filch's cat, watched us exit the room, and then quickly followed after us. I resisted the urge to kick the stupid animal and instead focused on the paintings hanging on the walls. They had always fascinated me. My parents are both wizards (well, a witch and a wizard), so moving pictures are not foreign to me, but I'm still amazed by them. Having such a vast majority of painted figures staring and commenting as I walk by is so bizarre.

Fred and I followed Filch through many corridors and up a few flights of stairs before coming to a room filled with trophies. Knowing exactly what was coming, Fred and I let out a sigh.

"Alright, I expect you two would know what to do by now. If I catch you doing any magic to help you along you'll be re-polishing these for weeks to come," he said in his scratchy voice.

He didn't linger long, but gave us one last menacing stare before exiting.

Fred and I remained silent, listening as the last of Filch's footsteps echoed through the corridor until they could no longer be heard.

Fred let out a laugh as he picked up one of the rags lying on the floor.

"What's funny?" I inquired.

"Filch," he replied, "He actually expects us to do this."

Fred tossed the rag into a bucket on the floor, causing water to spill out over the edge.

"Apparently."

"If the dunce had any brains at all he'd stay here and supervise us," Fred commented.

"Well I guess it's lucky for us he doesn't have any brains," I said, "Otherwise we'd have no choice."

I moved over to one of the many windows in the small room and stared out at the school grounds.

"What d'you propose we do?" Fred asked, leaning on the windowsill next to me.

"He won't come back and check on us?" I said.

"He never does."

Fred pulled out the Marauder's Map from his pocket and tapped it with his wand.

"I solemnly swear I am up to no good," he muttered quietly.

He and I surveyed the map together, ensuring we were quite safe to goof off as we saw fit. With the Marauder's Map at hand, we could get away with almost anything.

I glanced out into the night air once again and felt the breeze on my face. The sky was dark and the stars had made their way to the forefront of the darkness. It was a calm and peaceful night, and if it weren't for the Dementors outside I would have suggested we spent our detention wandering the school grounds.

"Let's leave," Fred suggested, folding the map back up and sticking it in the pocket of his robes.

"My thoughts exactly," I replied as Fred took my hand and began to lead me out of the trophy room.

"Where are we headed?" I questioned, following Fred out onto the staircase just outside of the room.

"Back to Filch's office," Fred replied, "I haven't had a rummage through his desk in quite a while."

"Fred no," I protested as Fred began to pull me down the flight of stairs.

"Why not?"

"He'll know it was us," I replied, resisting as he attempted to lead me down the stairs.

"So? What's he going to do? Make us shine more trophies?" Fred grinned wickedly at me.

"Well I'm sure Professor McGonagall could think of something, and Wood wouldn't be too pleased if that something happened to be kicking us off of the Quidditch team," I answered smirking back at him.

Fred pondered the possibility for a moment before deciding it would probably be best if we chose the safe route for once.

"Fine," he said giving in, "but you owe me."

"Owe you what, exactly?" I asked as I fell into step with him descending the stairs.

Fred shrugged. "A favour. I'll know what it is when the time comes."

I rolled my eyes. "Fine, whatever."

"Come on then," Fred encouraged. "Let's not waste our detention standing around idly."

Fred and I spent the next two hours planting Dungbombs in and around the Slytherin corridors—Dungbombs were one of Fred's favourite products. Occasionally a Slytherin would walk by and a bomb would go off. Fred and I almost gave ourselves up because of our laughter. The hardest part was keeping quiet when Snape walked by and got hit with the nauseating smell. He did a hilarious little pirouette-type move as he tried to figure out where the stench was coming from. I had tears in my eyes just from watching him flail about in confusion.

At that point we decided we had better return to the trophy room. Chances are, Snape would have suspected who the culprits were, and I knew the two of us were at the top of his list of trouble makers. If he were to go up to the trophy room and see we were not there we surely would be in for a world of trouble.

So, once Snape had finished his stinky dance, the two of us raced at top speed back up to the trophy room to beat Snape there. It's lucky we did, because he showed up five minutes later, looking severely angered and incredibly dishevelled. He didn't smell all too great either. Fortunately, because he didn't see us commit any crime, he was forced to leave us be without punishment.

The best part was that he knew it was us—it just made it all the more satisfying that we had gotten away with it.

Fred and I spent several minutes laughing and re-enacting Snape's reaction to the Dungbombs once he had angrily swooped away. We were having so much fun that it was nearly midnight before we decided to head back to the common room.

We exited the room happily after casting a cleaning spell to make the trophies sparkle and shine.

Unfortunately, I only made it a few steps before I slipped. I was just outside the door when I tripped over my own feet and stumbled down several stairs, landing awkwardly on my side. I squealed out in pain and shock as I hit the ground.

Fred, who had been walking several paces in front of me, turned around in surprise when he heard me yelp. Once he realized what had happened he broke into a wide grin.

"Smooth move," he said laughing, looking down on me cheekily.

"I think I broke something!" I cried, as I sat up, taking no notice of his mocking me.

My lower leg was throbbing in pain and I didn't want to chance trying to stand without assistance.

"Well that was smart," Fred said sarcastically as he hurried over to help me up.

"I didn't mean to," I protested angrily as I held onto his arms.

He pulled me up awkwardly in an attempt to get me on my feet.

"Can you walk?" he asked sounding concerned.

He lifted me off of the ground and held me in his arms. The pain was intensifying in my left leg and foot. I tried to put pressure on it and yelped in pain.

"I'll take that as a no," Fred said as tears began to form in my eyes.

He shook his head at me, smirk still present on his features.

"Come on, I'll take you to Madam Pomfrey," he said helping me onto his back.

I put my arms around his neck and held on tight as he began to head for the Hospital Wing. With each step down we took I whimpered in pain. I wish I could have stopped making pathetic noises, because it only gave Fred more ammunition to poke fun at me.

"Now honestly, what would you do without me?" Fred asked cheekily, placing me down carefully in front of the Hospital Wing doors. "I told you you're not able to handle yourself."

I huffed angrily, but didn't reply. I certainly didn't have a very good argument at the moment. If it weren't for Fred I would still be sitting at the bottom of the staircase wailing for help.

Madam Pomfrey, as if sensing our arrival, came running out of the Hospital Wing quickly. She asked no questions, but instructed Fred to help me through the doors.

Placing a strong arm around me, Fred helped me hobble through the doors and onto the nearest bed. Immediately Madam Pomfrey began fussing about.

She asked me what hurt, examined my leg, and then gave me a disgusting tasting potion to drink. She muttered a spell and pointed her wand at my foot, reducing the pain to a dull ache.

The entire time Fred stared at me with a highly amused expression on his face.

"How did this happen?" she asked me as she began to wrap a tight bandage around my ankle.

"Fell down a couple of stairs," I muttered feeling highly embarrassed.

I blushed deeply as Madam Pomfrey let out a sigh of clumsy girl. Fred laughed outright. I shot a glare at him and he silenced himself.

"Hmm," Pomfrey mused. I had a feeling she thought the two of us must have been up to no good for me to have fallen down the stairs. "Does that feel any better?"

"Kind of," I answered.

"You broke it," she said, "and it was an odd break, if it were a clean breakage I would've been able to fix it immediately. It will heal fine, but don't do too much running around for the next couple of days," she told me.

I made a face.

"I'm sorry but there's nothing more I can do," she said, "You'll just have to tone it down a notch." The look she gave me now was full of unspoken meaning.

I nodded reluctantly, feeling incredibly stupid. Why did I have to go and trip over my own damn feet? Curse my clumsiness.

"You'll have to help her back up to your tower," she said, directing this to Fred, "I presume that's not a problem?"

Fred let out a sound of disgust and screwed up his face in distaste.

"Good," Madam Pomfrey said as if it settled the matter.

With that, she hurried away once again—probably headed off to bed, judging by the slippers she wore on her feet.

Once she had gone I looked up at Fred, sticking out my bottom lip in a pout.

He rolled his eyes at me and let out a sigh.

"Well let's get moving then, Christie," he said reluctantly, taking hold of my arms and pulling me up. "You all right to walk?"

"I guess so," I replied as Fred put his arm around my waist.

The two of us made our way back up to Gryffindor tower slowly. My foot didn't hurt so much as felt awkward. Pomfrey's handiwork had successfully removed all pain. In fact, I couldn't feel my foot at all. The effect was a rather bizarre numbing sensation that made manoeuvring a difficult process. I sincerely hoped that by morning my limb would feel much more normal.

"Looks like I've proved you wrong," Fred said.

"How d'you figure?"

"I believe I recall you saying you didn't need my help—yesterday during Wood's speech," he pointed out.

"This is a fluke," I replied.

Fred rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say, Jules."

When we had made it back into the common room, it was completely deserted—except for Wood. It was well past midnight and yet he was still seated in his regular spot in the far corner of the room, huddled over his miniature Quidditch pitch. He turned when he heard us come in.

"What happened?" he asked, standing up as soon as he realized I was hurt.

"Don't look so worried," I said, "I'll be better in time to play Quidditch in the Slytherin match."

"What, you think that's the only reason I would come to see if you were ok?" he asked me, sounding astonished. "It's not like I don't care if you're hurt."

I rolled my eyes at him. "I fell down a couple of stairs."

He smirked at my answer.

"Oh," he said, returning to his Quidditch pitch.

"What? That's all the sympathy I get?" I asked.

"All you did was fall down a couple of stairs," he answered, brushing it off, "You're fine."

I scoffed at him in disgust and Fred chuckled to himself.

"Oh sod off, both of you," I said angrily, attempting to hobble my way to the girls' staircase with as much dignity as I could muster.

"Need some help there, love?" Fred asked, viewing me with amusement.

I scowled at him. "Yes, please."

Fred bounded to my side and once again wrapped his arm around me as he helped me ascend the staircase.

"Oh, and Wood," he said, calling back down to Oliver, "You do realize it's nearly 1 AM."

"What?" I heard Oliver say, surprised. "Why didn't anyone tell me?"

We heard him clamouring up the stairs moments later.

"Honestly, what do you girls see in him?" Fred asked, shaking his head at his captain's absurdity.

"What's wrong with him?" I questioned as the two of us continued to climb the staircase. I had my arm gripping Fred's waist to ensure I wouldn't tumble back down the way we came.

"Nothing if you like the tall, good-looking athletic type," Fred said bitterly.

"What's not to like?" I said grinning up at him.

Fred rolled his eyes at me as we reached the top of the stairs.

"Can you handle yourself from here?" he asked, leading me to my door.

"I think so," I said with a smirk.

"Good, because I can't be bothered to lug your heavy arse around any more tonight."

"Gee, thanks," I said sarcastically.

"You'd better be all healed up tomorrow. I don't want you slowing me down all day long," he said.

"Does that mean you're volunteering to be my personal assistant should I need it?" I asked with a grin.

"You should be so lucky," Fred replied, turning to leave.

"Well thank you for your help," I told him, "Goodnight Fred."

"Night Jules," he replied, bouncing back down the stairs and out of sight.