Encounters of the Future Sort

Civic Duties

Notes 2/9/24:

I've been looking forward to posting this chapter since I began rewriting this fic! The shenanigans have begun... :)

Continuation of Chapter 8: The Toad

James

DADA Classroom, Umbridge's Office

James walked in silence behind Umbridge, the sharp click, clack of her pink heels piercing his brain with every step along the stone floors. He lingered as far behind her as he could, hoping to dodge down a corridor before she realized he was gone. Every time he got close to escaping, she cast a glance over her shoulder with a nasty smile.

Who the hell was this woman?

Finally, they reached a classroom on the third floor in the North Tower. It was a room unfamiliar to James, as he haughtily climbed a short staircase to her office. She opened the door and gestured him inside. It took all of James' remaining patience not to throw up then and there, on her knit carpet. It was like an eerie, pink paradise.

"The surfaces had all been draped in lacy covers and cloths. There were several vases full of dried flowers, each residing on its own doily, and on one of the walls was a collection of ornamental plates, each decorated with a large technicolor kitten wearing a different bow around its neck." —OotP, chapter 13

James wrinkled his nose at the dense, pungent scent of dried roses and potpourri. Umbridge delicately closed the door and motioned to a small table draped in lace.

"Sit, Mr. Potter." She said sweetly, her lips curling into a sickening smile. James supposed it was more of a command than a request. She clicked over to her desk, where he spotted a large wooden block with 'Headmistress' in gold writing.

"That says Headmistress…Professor Dolores Umbridge?"

The toad woman's head snapped up, giving James the impression he'd fallen right into her trap. "Yes?" Her eyes pierced him. "Is there a problem?"

James raised an eyebrow. Despite the fact she was obviously baiting him, he was unable to resist. "Er, yeah. There is. You aren't Headmistress, Albus Dumbledore is—or the Headmaster, anyway."

Umbridge became very red in the face and she jumped to her feet, which didn't make much of a difference as she wasn't much taller standing than sitting. James bit his bottom lip to hold back a smirk.

"Don't-test-me-Potter," she whispered scathingly, the sugary sweetness evaporated from her voice. "You've caused quite enough trouble for me to have you arrested for the remains of your school years. Albus Dumbledore can no longer protect you—just one quick call to Cornelius and you're off to Azkaban!"

Sure, James had pulled a few pranks here and there, but nothing that serious. However, this woman was clearly unstable and vindictive, which was enough of a disturbing combination to keep James locked in place.

He watched silently as the toad smoothed her cardigan and drew a piece of parchment from a desk drawer. Her sugary sugary smile flickered back on. "Now, sit."

James was not feeling eager to provoke her, particularly because he wasn't sure what he'd done to begin with. So he sat on the edge of a straight chair in the corner, just in case it came alive to strangle him.

"Shall we begin now?" Umbridge set the parchment on the table in front of James and handed him a long, thin black quill with a very sharp point.

James poised the quill in his fingers. Umbridge sat behind her desk and laced her fingers together, continuing to smile psychotically at him. He waited for a few moments, trying to ignore the eerie purring and stares of a thousand cat eyes looming down upon him.

"Not to be presumptuous," James twirled the quill between his fingers, unable to quell his defiant nature. "But may I be so bold as to assume I will be writing lines?"

Umbridge smiled, if possible, even sweeter. What was that muggle saying Remus used? You catch more flies with honey than vinegar. The toad certainly seemed quite keen on this theory as she opened her mouth, and James wondered if she'd spotted a particularly juicy fly, but before she could speak a deafening CRASH sounded above their heads.

Umbridge jumped to her feet and the room shook slightly as several smaller crashes followed. She drew her wand from her frilly pink cardigan and ran towards the door. At the last second, she whipped her head around and pointed menacingly.

"We are not finished here, Mr. Potter!"

James, however, begged to differ. He stuck his tongue at her back as she jolted out of the office.

Jumping to his feet, James peered out the crack in the door until it was safe to follow. Umbridge turned right down the corridor, so he turned left, truly hoping she would meet her demise with this godsend of a distraction.

What a weird day, James thought, with absolutely no concept of just how weird it was about to become.

As he turned a corner, James came face to face with two tall, gangly red heads that appeared identical in every way. He blinked twice with the fear he was seeing double.

"Made it out alive did you?" the grinning twin on the right asked.

James looked back and forth between the two, confused—but that did seem to be a familiar pattern today.

"That," the twin on the left began, "was a clever little diversion we refer to as—"

"—'tempt Peeves into pelting Mrs. Norris with dungbombs'—" the one on the right added.

"—'and inconsequently, give Filch an aneurism.'" The one on the left finished with a wink.

"That was you?" James baffled. The twins nodded in unison, grins mirroring one another.

"Ginny tipped us off," the one on the right grinned. "And here we are, your knights in shining armor."

The one on the left bowed regally. "No need to thank us—just preforming our civic duties."

James wondered why these odd, identical people he'd never seen before were helping him with such aplomb. "Well blimey, thanks anyway! Thought I was a goner in there, dunno who put a crack in that toad's cauldron…"

"No problem, mate. Wouldn't want that scar to get any deeper," the twin on the right nodded to James' hand.

James stretched his fingers, examining his hand; quite unaware of any scar he had attained.

The twin on the left knit his brow. "Huh. Murtlap essence does work wonders…"

"Saved our hides with the fever fudge," the twin on the right grimaced. "Cleared up those awful puss filled boils, especially good for pesky ones right in the—"

"Look, I haven't the faintest clue what you're on about," James admitted, running the hand in question through his hair. "Actually I don't even know who you are, to be honest. Have we met?"

The twins exchanged a cryptic glance.

"Fred—" the one on the right pointed to the one on the left.

"—and George." The one on the left pointed to the one on the right. "Blimey, Harry—did Umbridge confound you?"

James scoffed in frustration, his ego swelling. "Why does everyone keep calling me that? My name is James. As in James Potter. Who this Harry bloke is, I'd really like to know!"

Fred and George exchanged another glance. They nodded in unison, as if they'd had a whole conversation in two seconds without actually speaking.

"Lift up your fringe, James." Fred implored, crossing his arms.

"What?" James puzzled, wondering what difference his hairline could possibly make. "Why?"

"Look," George began, also crossing his arms. "Either you're actually Harry and you've just gone bonkers—"

"—or you're not Harry—"

"—and the only way to be sure—"

"—is for you to lift up your fringe." Fred resolved matter-of-factly.

James shrugged, sighing. "All right, then."

It seemed like a ridiculous request, but James was just glad to be speaking with people who actually seemed to comprehend what he was saying. So, he lifted his fringe.

To James' curiosity, Fred and George leaned in and squinted their eyes while they examined his forehead.

"How intriguing..." Fred considered.

"Did you put Murtlap essence on that scar, too?" George puzzled.

"Unless, George…"

"Yes, Fred?"

"Unless he's actually—

"—not Harry, at all?"

James nodded his head in exasperation. "I'm definitely not Harry."

"The resemblance is uncanny, George." Fred commented lightly.

George stroked his chin and nodded. "Indeed it is, Fred."

The twins contemplated James for a few moments, circling around and eyeing him over from top to bottom.

Fred straightened up, turning to his twin. "Shall we?"

George nodded solemnly. "I believe so."

The two simultaneously waved their wands and James' arms and legs were bound by invisible ropes.

"Hey—!" James squirmed, his arms pinned to his sides.

Fred flicked his wand upwards and James' tongue glued to the roof of his mouth. "Sorry, mate. But seeing as we don't know who you are…"

"And also that you're nearly indistinguishable from Harry," George added.

"We can't leave you gallivanting around unsupervised." Fred waved his wand again and James' feet levitated slightly off the floor.

James, tongue tied and bound, thought of many foul cuss words and it was rather fortunate for the twins he was totally incapacitated.

Whoever this Harry bloke is, James thought, I'll hex him into next Tuesday.

Notes 2/9/24:

Fred and George are so much fun to write heheh. Next chapter we're back to Harry, Ron, and the remaining Marauders. Young Sev and Lily are going to make an appearance here soon, too.

A gigantic hug to everyone supporting this fic! As a writer, feedback is so incredibly invaluable. It helps me process the chapter from a new perspective—and you all are so amazing. Whatever strikes a chord or makes you giggle, let me know! Hearing from you totally fuels my day and inspiration. I heart you all.