[It is to be said that we, the Marauders, are the best pranksters ever. You might judge us for saying that. But in reality, we are being modest in that sense. In reality, we are probably the best pranksters that have ever haunted the halls of Hogwarts, and nobody could ever be as good as us. Except if they are related to us. Padfoot waxes on, and on, and on about how when he grows up he won't be like his parents. So I suppose that he is going to repopulate the wizarding world after this world due to how much he likes kids. Looking at his dating life, I wouldn't be surprised. [Fuck you Wormy -Pads.] [Aren't we all, like, second cousins or something? I don't want to fault your logic here, but we are all related to everybody. Sorry mate. -Prongs] Okay fine. Those who carry our blood. As in, kids or whatever. I mean, I'm sure all of our kids would be hellions. Our future grandkids would continue our legacy. We have jokes in our blood. Marauders will leave a legacy here in Hogwarts, and it'll continue in the next thousand years. We have the power that will haunt the halls of Hogwarts, and we will never be forgotten.
Inclosed is the first rough draft of our Marauders Map. It isn't as nice as our completed version. However, we figured that we could leave it just in case our other maps are not available. We are proud of this map. We did the impossible. We made a map of Hogwarts. Honestly, the castle changes and moves around that regular maps are rendered invalid within hours of it being created. How many wizards have done that in Hogwarts history? Just us. We're brilliant.
-Wormtail (Written by Moony, because it's three a.m. and he just wants to go to sleep.)
-Excerpt from the Marauders Componium]
Three weeks in, something changed. To Harriet, time had passed at an agonizingly slow rate that seemingly fluctuated whenever she found herself alone where she could enjoy her surroundings. She liked it when she was in her single-room dorm room, the small rounded ceiling above her reminding her of her staircase. It was cramped and small, with barely enough room for a bed, wardrobe, and a small desk. There was a small round window that looked out over a field of ripening wheat, although the Hufflepuff dorms were underground and not even remotely close to a field. There, Harriet could be whatever she wanted to be. And it was nice. She could chat with Hedwig who lived in a glass tank on her desk. Hedwig didn't mock her or anything, and so being able to speak was easy and like a breath of fresh air. In her own little room, in her own little bed, Harriet liked to read and pass her time learning more about the wizarding world.
However, it was times like those that time passed without a thought. It was Harriet's escape from the stress and pressure of being in school. Being outside of her room, Harriet was uncomfortable. And there, time took hold in its claws and slowed the clock. Harriet would gaze at the timepiece in every class, hoping for when the hands of the clock would hit the hour that she could leave. Her sensory issues hadn't faded in the slightest. Harriet grew to hate the great hall and refused to eat there. Instead, she would find her way to the kitchens and there, the elves (who were kind enough to leave her alone) would give her food. The kitchens were loud, but it wasn't as bad as the constant yelling and moving people around her. At least the house-elves left her alone after feeding her. After the disaster in her second week, Harriet had found herself avoiding people. Susan and Hannah were on that list, along with everybody else in the Hufflepuff house. Harriet had been tired of trying to be outgoing and friendly, and with her paranoia increasing with the knowledge that Dumbledore was in charge of the school, Harriet almost became like a ghost.
Harriet would go to class and then take off as fast as she could. It had worked for a few days, and Harriet was glad for it. She spent her time in the library or hidden in one of the many alcoves in Hogwarts, doing her homework and then cracking open the new novel that she had received. 'How to Unblock Your Magical Abilities and Other Things' was a new book in her life. At first, Harriet didn't want to touch it. The idea that Dumbledore had given this book to trick her into unblocking her magic, and therefore disobeying his magical guardian authority, was a real concern to her. Harriet had cautiously began to explore its contents, and after a while, the paranoia left her.
The book was just too interesting to put it down.
Harriet had thought once that she knew about all the subjects of magic. Potions and waving a wand around while saying a special word. After all, that's what Hogwarts taught them. But to Harriet's surprise and rapture, there were dozens of different magical fields that this book held. And for the most part, they were mostly wandless. Runes, arithmancy, divination, necromancy, alchemy, blood wards, and, of course, wandless magic. The thing that intrigued Harriet the most was runes. There was a written language of magic! Why she didn't have a class for that yet, Harriet didn't understand. She had to learn how to write in primary school. Why not learn how to write magic runes? But the basic gist of it was that if she wrote down the runes correctly in the right way on a paper, then the magic would do the spell. It wasn't as easy as swishing a wand around and saying a few words. But figuring that Harriet couldn't speak, and liked to write things, it was like a godsend. It was equally frustrating that Harriet had to find this out via a mysterious book. And that it wasn't a piece of knowledge that was widely distributed.
The book didn't go much into runes. But flipping through it all, Harriet found the spell that she wanted. It was one of the dozens, really. All of them were different, all of them unblocked or reversed the irreversible. But they only focused on specific things. Like curses, soul damage, and 'life-blood magic.' And they seemingly came with warning labels that looked a bit sketchy. Like one would break the blockage on her magic, but in the tiny words underneath it said that it could cause her soul to become unstable and vulnerable to demon deals. Another one spoke about how unknown entities could push her into a life of predestined infinities, whatever that meant. Plus, they used a lot of sacrificing in those spells. One of them said she had to use the still-beating heart of a newly orphaned kelpie, which seemed to involve too much blood. However, the spell that Harriet was looking at didn't look to need a lot of things. The tiny writing only said 'pain and a mildly itchy rash' and Harriet was willing to accept that. It would be worth it to have an injury to get out of these bindings. There were a lot of spells in this book, but to Harriet, this spell was the most important thing of them all. It would undo all the restraints on her. But it didn't affect only her past bindings on her, but also her future ones as well. And it looked like blood magic and runes were key things to understand before trying to use the spell. The description for this seemed a bit too powerful for Harriet to undertake, but it mostly seemed to dispel any physical limitations on her. And as for her future bindings, it added more of a resistance to things, rather than it being the ultimate failsafe. It was a type of protection. And Harriet desperately wanted to have some sort of safeguard. Something she knew that she could lean on in support. Something to protect her.
But there were dozens of spells in this book. And dozens of chapters that explained different types of magic. It didn't get into the subjects very deeply, but it touched on the uses and historic events where such magic had been used. It added depth in examples and ignited her curiosity. And this captivated Harriet. The book quickly grew to be her second favourite book ever, the other E. Weasley book taking first place. It was fascinating, and it relit the small wonder deep inside of Harriet that had drawn her to magic in the first place. The small flame of inspiration and excitement was the only reprieve from her daily tasks and schoolwork. And Harriet just wanted to read and do nothing else. And it happened for the first few days where Harriet had become scarce. Harriet slipped away from everybody and found herself in her room, digging through the book. Occasionally, she found a comfortable spot in the library to read as well, as Harriet began to try and find the beginning books on runes and blood magic. The runes were easy to find. Sort of. Blood magic, though. Harriet had yet to find a single book about it.
And then the Hufflepuff house struck back.
Turns out, they didn't like that Harriet had become a recluse.
Hufflepuff's, as it turns out, are nosy and overly concerned. They were nice and worried about her. For the first few days, it was fine. Harriet found comfort in being alone. She took a few trips to the library and to the kitchens next door. Easy peasy. Besides her detention, where Harriet cleaned the trophy room (which was pathetically easy, dusting and polishing was child's play. Literally. Harriet had been doing those chores for years), Harriet kept to her rooms. And then after that, the hoards began to come.
It started with Hannah and Susan who called after her, as Harriet was trying to make her escape after class. It had been herbology again, and it was difficult to get away when they had to walk up the hill to the castle. Harriet paused, completely surprised by their attention, and allowed the two girls to catch up with her and they gently guided her to lunch. Harriet liked the two girls, they were nice and smart. But somehow they just didn't connect with her. And most of the time, Harriet felt like she was their pet pity project.
By the third week, the cliques had been established. People stuck to their groups, the boys in Hufflepuff kept to themselves while the Gryffindors did the same. In fact, besides the classes where the teachers were the head of a house, the other teachers tried to mix the houses together. It made class stilted and awkward. From Harriet's perspective, kids don't like other kids from houses. And she thought it was dumb. If anything Draco Malfoy and Ernie Macmillan would get along fabulously. They both talked about how they came from powerful families but really they were just eleven-year-old dumbasses who liked to brag. Harriet couldn't see anything worthwhile in the two boys, but they certainly thought themselves to be the bee's knees of the wizarding world. Three weeks and the first years have all settled into their groups. And most importantly, three weeks in the stereotypes had been finalized.
There were the loud annoying kids, like Dean and Seamus, Ron's buddies. Well, really, most of all the Gryffindors could fall into that category. There were the kids who could probably knife you in your sleep, which fell to Daphne Greengrass and Baise Zabini, and honestly, all of the Slytherins could have joined that group if there hadn't been one outlier: Lavender Brown. That girl seemed sweet but Harriet could tell that she was the pettiest bitch that Harriet had ever seen. The glares Lavender gave to some of the girls in the other houses made her land in that category. There were the quidditch nerds, the book-nerds (all Ravenclaws plus Hermione Granger), foodies, the people who talk too much in class (class clowns), and finally, the idiots.
That is where Harriet was fit in. She belonged in the same group as Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. They were… nice. The two times that Harriet had astrology, they were nice. They spoke in soft murmurs, and Vincent had tried to help her once, thinking that she couldn't understand a word. Harriet knew what an eclipse was, she had studied moons and their phases with her mum's collection of the Quibbler. However, it was almost endearing when Crabbe had stammered out that it was, "is like when you pull the curtain 'round your bed, blockin' the light. 'Cept it's the sun. And it's the moon who blocks it. Yeah?"
They were… nice. After a while, even Draco didn't seem to be as big as a prick as he appeared to be. Harriet chalked it up to being late at night, and Draco was tired. But Crabbe and Goyle were admittedly were okay. Not that Harriet would consider them as friends. But they were the only people who didn't judge her for not speaking. They didn't talk down to her and treat her like a baby. Teachers ignored her (which was a blessing) and didn't call on her for questions anymore. And if they did, they spoke short, easy phrases that anybody could get. Half the time it didn't bother Harriet. The other half she was embarrassed. Her pride took a hit by being spoken to like a baby.
Hell, the only other person who treated Harriet as a normal person was Filch. And he just pointed at the trophy room and said, "clean it, and don't use any magic."
And so it rankled Harriet. When Hannah and Susan tracked her down, they treated her like she was broken glass on the ground. They picked her up carefully and they didn't put her in the trash. Oh no, they tried to fix her. News flash! Harriet wasn't broken. Not in the slightest. The whole 'oh Harriet have you tried this salad? It's so tasty. You should eat more greens.' And 'have you done your charms homework yet? How about we practice more together?' Or even 'it's late you should go to sleep.' Harriet wasn't here to be mothered by a bunch of girls. She was here to learn.
Harriet had been there, done that. She had tried her hardest to put her trust in those around her. She had pushed herself to be welcoming, and she let her guard down. And it had been a mistake. The hurt and pain from the other kids were too much for Harriet to handle. She put her foot down, and resolutely decided to not get close to anybody else.
And Hufflepuffs didn't take that decision lightly.
After Harriet had avoided Hannah and Susan successfully, hiding in an alcove and reading the fantastic wonderful book that she had picked up, the rest of Hufflepuff started to keep an eye out for her. It wasn't just the two girls, now the boys were trying to drag her away. Or worse, follow her in the hallway. They thought it was a game. It reminded Harriet of Harriet Hunting that it gave her vivid flashbacks and Harriet would run around aimlessly in Hogwarts, trying to shake her pursuers off her trail. Then the older students joined in. They found her easily, as she was still trying to find a way around the castle and they had been there for years. They knew where to look, and Harriet had been dragged out from underneath staircases (the irony of that was palpable) and from rooms hidden behind tapestries.
Three weeks in and Harriet was trying to find a way to sneak away from the Hufflepuff table before dinner ended. Astrology was later tonight, the third time they were going to meet up. And Harriet wanted to have some alone time.
"Harriet have you had the green beans? They are so tasty!" Susan held out a bowl to her. Harriet had long since given up refusing, as the two girls would literally start going down the table and offering every dish to Harriet so long as it was healthy. Harriet liked green food, as it had been one of the few constant things that she ate growing up. Dudley would always throw his out, and so Harriet knew she could find some asparagus or broccoli in the garbage to eat later. However, it still rankled her in the wrong way. The way that Susan and Hannah would try and feed her food like how Aunt Petunia would try and make Dudley eat it.
And Harriet was certainly not Dudley.
Harriet took the dish silently and dumped a small spoonful on her plate. There was some sort of cheese on top, and it was tasty when Harriet ate it. However, it wasn't good in her opinion. There was a flat flavor to everything that Harriet ate up here. There was a difference between her own cooking and the baked goods up here. Harriet wasn't one to complain, she actually had food that she could eat. But it tasted like ash in her mouth, dry and bitter. A tang that followed her on every bite. Harriet sipped on her goblet of pumpkin juice to clear the taste from her tongue before she shoveled in as much food as she could handle without the urge of gagging appearing. Which in reality, was very little. Eating with Susan and Hannah was like a chore. It took all of the joy out of it.
-and then, for the first time in three weeks, something changed.
"Harriet have you had this wonderful bake- hic !" Hannah was shoving yet another plate at Harriet and it was suddenly dropped to the table in a clatter, food spilling everywhere, as Hannah slapped her hands across her face. Harriet glanced up at the harsh noise, flinching from the shock of it all. She met Hannah's wide eyes and the floating bubbles that were gently escaping to the ceiling above them.
The entire room grew suddenly very quiet of voices. Oh, there was still noise. Things crashed, mostly silverware and other utensils. Things were shuffled around, plates were broken. And all around, bubbles began to form. Dozens, no, hundreds were appearing. Bright and shining, they were glowing with an unknown power. And Harriet watched as they began to swarm around the Gryffindor table, watching as a boy opened his mouth, and a bubble appeared around his lips, finishing when he closed it. It floated gently into the air, along with the rest.
None of them popped.
They jostled each other, hundreds turned what looked into thousands. Some of them huge! Some of them as big as Harriet was! And others, as small as the tip of a pencil. The ceiling was covered quickly, obscuring the cloudy sunset in the sky. The candles were snuffed out, leaving the room in dim lighting.
All of this happened in a matter of minutes. Harriet… wasn't sure what to make of it. She watched with wide eyes, unsure how to react.
Then tap tap tap tap. The noise rang out from the front of the room, where the professors stayed. Harriet looked up, her face twisting into a sneer. There he was. Dumbledore. Tapping his wand on the pedestal. He looked like a harmless old man, but Harriet knew better. She avoided looking at him most of the time. Another reason why she hated being in the great hall. He could see her and simply being near him unnerved her. She watched, along with the rest of the student body, as he spoke. A bubble formed, but as soon as he finished speaking, he jabbed it with his wand.
It popped, and then his voice echoed around the room. "It seems like somebody has spiked the pumpkin juice." Dumbledore sent a knowing look at the Gryffindor table, and Harriet followed his gaze. There were the two redheads from before. The twins. Ron's brothers. They grinned shamelessly. Crooked grins and mischief etched itself into them.
Harriet used to do that.
She was suddenly hit with a wave of nostalgia and yearning that it took her by complete surprise. It sent her into a small type of shock. Throwing her mentally into the past. She could remember- she could remember how she used to laugh like that. How she used to smile and giggle in her cupboard late at night. Harriet missed Dumbledore speaking again, and his act of popping the bubble.
"This is a rather hilarious joke. Well thought out, if I do say so myself. However, I would ask you to please not make more noise. I am sure that when all of the bubbles pop, there could be a chance of the noise being so loud, it could blow the roof completely off." Dumbledore laughed humbly.
Harriet watched the two boys with hawk-like precision. The two boys, older than her and much taller, were enjoying this immensely. Their ear to ear grins was a sign that they had done it. Along with a few Gryffindors who either shook their hands in congratulations or one or two brave souls who slapped them lightly on the back of the head. Judging by the fact that they acted like celebrities, this was a common thing to have happened.
Harriet frowned to herself slightly. They were Weasleys. Not the good kind either. Not E. Weasley, the most brilliant author on the planet. No, these were the awful kind. They were Ronald's brothers. And instantly, Harriet disliked them. But seeing them laugh and enjoy the mess that they made… it lit a fire that Harriet hadn't realized had extinguished. Now, in this moment, it had been dumb of her to think like that. But Harriet had figured that jokes and pranks were for the Dursleys. Hogwarts wasn't the place for it.
And yet…
"This is probably the best prank I have seen in many years. Whoever did this came forward, their punishment will light. However, if you do not then I will assure you there will be an investigation. The rest of you, enjoy your meals and have a good night. I'm sure that this piece of magic will not last more than an hour." Dumbledore's voice rang out once again.
Harriet pursed her lips. Still staring over at the table, and narrowed her eyes. The best prank, huh? Not that Harriet ever wanted Dumbledore's approval. No, she wouldn't do anything because she wanted to prove herself better. She didn't care what Dumbledore thought. Not in the slightest. But the best prank…
Emboldened by the fact that nobody could hear her, Harriet spoke softly to herself. "This is fucking brilliant ." A bubble, the first one that came from her, formed around her mouth and gently floated up to the sky. A message that would go unheard. "Assholes." A second bubble appeared.
And she couldn't let it go.
Because somehow, Harriet took it as the first attack in a long series of a war that she suddenly was itching for.
A war that the two twins were certainly not prepared for.
"An investigation," Malfoy spoke to the group. His posh voice dripped with disdain. He repeated himself. "An investigation. Everybody knows that Dumbledore isn't going to do anything."
"But he said he would." Goyle spoke slowly. As if he could somehow figure out Draco's message before he finished speaking.
"It's all a farce. He knows it was those Gryffindors." Draco huffed, before leaning forward to adjust his telescope a few centimeters to the left.
"What's a farce?" Crabbe asked.
"It's another word for a sham."
"What's a sham?" Goyle replied.
"A trick. A pretense. A lie. It means that Dumbledore said all of that to get our complaints off his back." Draco elaborated. He said it all without a single sigh or mocking tone. He did this a lot, Harriet had noticed. He defined words a lot for Goyle and Crabbe to understand them. It was… nice of him. Despite his haughty air or his stuck up attitude, Draco was willing to help others.
Mostly Slytherins. But others nonetheless. It was the most humane thing that Harriet had yet to see in Hogwarts.
Harriet was only partially listening. She was twirling a quill between her fingers, staring at the wall. Her microscope was pointed at Scorpio constellation. They were trying to find all of the different horoscope constellations and Harriet had only found one before she gave up. The night time was the time where she planned things. She snuck around a lot during the comfort of darkness. And this was really her best time to scheme.
That and Harriet was easily distracted.
'I could make my potions.' Harriet thought, then her eyebrows twitched downwards as she pursed her lips slightly. 'But that would mean I would have to find a place to make them. My room isn't the best. No ventilation. The smell could alert people here who have experience with potions. I can't do it anywhere Snape.' Harriet sucked in the side of her cheek, her fingers tapping absently on the table. 'My list of areas where I could make potions are limited by how well I know the castle. I've been practically everywhere by now, but I'm still hopelessly lost.' Harriet could count on her hands the number of places she knew where to go that wasn't a classroom. Her room, an alcove, the library. None of them suited her. The alcove was too out in the open. And Harriet wasn't the only person who used it during the day. And the library, oh no. No way.
Which meant that Harriet had to take a different approach to this. Potions were a must-have. But Harriet needed to take her time exploring in the castle. She had to find a place that nobody would go to. But that would take time, and Harriet's gut twisted with the idea of not doing something sooner. She wanted so desperately to do something.
That left Harriet with one other option.
The muggle way.
"-just wait until my father hears about this!" Draco said, cutting into Harriet's thoughts. She blinked as she came back from her thoughts. It was so out of the blue that it startled her. What on earth warranted that reaction from Draco?
Harriet looked at Crabbe, then at Goyle. Goyle shrugged, then patted her on the back awkwardly. As if to say, 'we get this a lot, welcome to the club.'
"Harriet!" An older Hufflepuff, a prefect of some kind, waved her down in the hallway. They were just emerging from the astrology tower, some of the students stumbling down the stairs in exhaustion.
Harriet quietly swore under her breath. "Fuck, not again." She glanced up and met the shocked expression on Goyle's face. It was a mixture of confusion and bewildered astonishment. She stared at him for a split second, unsure what to do. She hadn't thought that he could hear her. Then his eyes turned towards the Hufflepuff prefect and narrowed.
"Oy, is that guy botherin' you?" He pointed at the prefect who was walking towards their group. Harriet nodded shyly. Goyle squared his shoulders and stomped towards the prefect. "Hey, you leave her alone!"
"Goyle!" Draco squawked indignantly. "What are you doing?"
"What?" The prefect was seemingly unprepared for an eleven-year-old wall of muscle heading towards him. Harriet watched with wide eyes as Goyle yelled at the prefect. Draco was trying to pull him away, but Draco wasn't as tall or had the strength to pull Goyle away. And surprisingly, Crabbe joined in for no reason that Harriet could see. The prefect had no clue how to react with two small children yelling at him and another trying to pull them away.
Silently, without notice, Harriet slipped away. The noise echoed down the hallway as she slipped into the dark hallways of Hogwarts. For the first time in days, she was free from the Hufflepuffs that followed her. And Harriet was going to take her time exploring the castle, but this time with a goal in mind.
The next morning, Harriet didn't speak as she dropped a napkin of pastries next to Goyle and Crabbe that she snitched from the kitchen. As dumb as they were, the two boys knew thanks when it was given to them.
Slytherins weren't too bad, after all. At least, Crabbe, Goyle, and Malfoy were leagues better than the other students.
Harriet had smuggled a lot of paraphernalia to Hogwarts. Not the kind that most kids would enjoy, like drugs or alcohol. Instead, Harriet brought with the many items that she had fondly dubbed 'her kit.' In 'the kit' there were things that Harriet had used over her time at the Dursleys. It was her tools, so to speak. When magic wouldn't work, Harriet would take her pick from dozens of items that she had stolen from her unknowing aunt and uncle.
After digging in her mum's trunk Harriet unearthed all of her supplies. Carefully eyeing each one over, debating which one to use. Superglue? What should she paste together? Jar lids? No no no. It was a good idea, but she had to do something… extra. Showy. Something big.
Her fingers trailed over the various bottles and she paused on one. She had only tried this particular prank once before. It wasn't subtle enough to avoid the ire of the Dursleys, as they could easily point the fault at her. Harriet pursed her lips, then thought it over. It would be similar to the Weasley's bubble prank. Too similar for her taste. But looking over her various items, Harriet didn't know what to use her other items for. And so Harriet picked up the Marauders Compendium. She flipped through a few pages and settled down to read. She wanted to make this perfect.
She needed this to be utterly spotless. What better way to do than then learn from the masters themselves?
It took her time. More time than she would have liked. Harriet was impatient. Friday was the day that bubbles left everybody's mouths. And on Sunday morning Harriet put her plan into motion as she left the safe haven of the Hufflepuff dorms. It was still a pain to get up early, but Harriet didn't mind this morning. The torches on the walls were still unlit. The portraits were still. Harriet crept along in the dark, her eyes used to the lack of light. In one hand, she clutched the Marauders Componium that was flipped open to the page of the map. It was a crude map, made up of wobbly lines and notes on the side. The only reason that Harriet was using it was that it showed her where people were. And that was the key to avoiding people this early in the morning. She found the map late the night before. The idea of it was absolutely brilliant. And if this wasn't amazing enough, Harriet wondered what the completed version of it would be like. In her other hand, she held her secret weapon.
The hallways felt longer than usual. Butterflies surged up her stomach and into her throat where they were lodged in a thick glob that no matter how hard Harriet tried to swallow it wouldn't move. This was more nerve-wracking than spiking Uncle Vernon's tea bags with dried chili peppers. Or that one time where she 'accidentally' misplaced Dudley's left shoe until the Dursleys gave up searching the house to buy yet another pair.
This had higher stakes. At least it felt like it. In reality? Not really. In the Dursley home Harriet would have been attacked and starved to death if not for the fact that Dursley's didn't want to hide her body after killing her. Here, though? It was different. Pranking wasn't a form of revenge. Not all of Hogwarts had annoyed her. It was only a select few students who had. And Ronald Weasley was definitely in the Dursley category, along with his friends. But the rest of them? The other students weren't involved. And Harriet felt a little bad about dragging them into this.
For the teachers though? Oh, they totally deserved it. Snape was a right prat. A dick, one might say. And Harriet didn't mind dragging Dumbledore into a few pranks. Although… it felt like she was poking the bear if she did. Harriet didn't want Dumbledore's attention on her. He was a higher enemy. Far more than the Dursleys. He was what Dudley would call the 'final boss' and Harriet wasn't strong enough to face him. He was so powerful. He had utter control over Harriet's life. And she didn't want to make him force her to do stuff even more.
Harriet let out a shaky breath. Her breath fogged up slightly in the dungeon air. She crept along the hallways silently, her eyes focusing on the dark page in front of her. Nobody was out. She didn't see any footmarks traveling across the page. It was too early in the morning for patrols of perfects and teachers. Hell, all of the portraits around her were still asleep in their frames. Knowing that nobody was around still didn't calm the nerves that jumped and bounced around in her stomach. But it didn't calm the fire inside of her that burned her to do this. Harriet still wanted more than anything to do this. It was the only thing that kept her going. As Harriet padded up to the stairs to the main floor, her heart thundered and pounded with anxiety. She could feel her throat close up, even though there wasn't anybody around to talk to. The stress of doing something she knew was wrong was both terrifying and…. Delightful. The mixture of glee twisted and turned inside of her. It made her hands shake and her face feel like it was burning. She tiptoed around the main hall until she reached a side passage.
Harriet slipped out of a side door that leads to the courtyard. The courtyard was empty save for moonlight that dripped down and cloaked everything with a dim white light. And there… with white stone shining like glass, was her target. Harriet glanced down at her book once more, confirming once again that nobody was about. With that knowledge, she crept out of the darkness and into the moonlight, scampering over the white stone cobblestone until she reached the fountain. It was a pretty thing. Its water was clear and no debris covered the bottom. Magic, Harriet supposed. Well, it was all about to change.
With a heft, Harriet brought the gallon jug that she had been practically dragging along with her up onto the stone rim of the fountain. It was heavy. But Harriet had hardly noticed the weight of it the entire time. With a deft hand, she unscrewed the cap off of the dawn ultra big dish soap and gently began to pour it into the water.
Bubbles began to form immediately.
Fred and George had no clue what was happening. In their defense, they were asleep at the time. Fred was enjoying the night air that came through their window in Gryffindor tower. He and George had long since figured out how to jimmy them open in their second year, after having to suffer through a minor heat flash that nearly roasted everybody alive. George was softly snoring on his bed. Fred had woken perhaps fifteen minutes ago and was quietly writing down in his journal. It was a worn-out book, with about a dozen pages threatening to fall out but were stubbornly bespelled with perhaps a few sticky charms to keep them in. It was also bespelled with all of the safeguard spells that both of the twins knew. Nothing short of fiendfyre could destroy it, and nothing could get in to see what Fred had written on those pages. Not even George. It was the one thing that the twins kept separate from each other. It was Fred's personal journal, where he wrote down his 'dreams.'
The sunlight that was slowly peaking above the forbidden forest gently reached out and touched the pages with speckled bits of lights that glowed orange. Fred stared down at his journal. Half the time he couldn't remember writing what he Saw. He would still be in his daze when he pulled his journal towards him in the middle of the night and he would scribble absolute jibberish. Somehow, in his thoughts, he thought what he was writing was important. Whatever he wrote was significant for him to remember. Fred had no clue what he was trying to tell him.
He reached out, touching the words that the burning bright orange light of the sunrise lit up. It was a few sentences that made any sense. Sort of.
'For when the red hair meets the green grass blades, do not be afraid. Watch and sit back, for Death starts her crusade.'
What did this mean?
Fred did not have long to ponder this. For soon after he read it, he heard the familiar thumping of Lee's footsteps thundering up the stairs. Fred snapped his journal closed and shoved it under his pillow.
Lee, the ugly bastard, slammed open the door to their room, the loud crash causing George to jolt away. "Absolutely brilliant!" Lee crowed, in his gasping out of breath sort of way.
"Lee you bastard." George groaned, shoving a pillow over his face. "Why in the bloody hell are you being so loud this morning. It's Sunday."
Lee didn't seem to be bothered by George's bad mood. "How on earth did you do it? The bubbles?"
"We spiked the pumpkin juice," Fred replied, raising an eyebrow. "I thought we told you this ages ago."
"No, I mean the girl's bathroom!" Lee flung his hands into the air. "How on earth did you get in there? I can't believe you guys got in there. That place is warded to high heaven."
There was a long pause. Then George threw his pillow off his head and gave Lee a long look. "Girls bathroom?"
"What do you mean," Fred started.
"The girl's bathroom?" George took his turn.
"We haven't done anything to the girl's bathroom." Fred finished. Lee blinked at the laser focus of both twins attention on him.
"The bubbles?" Lee protested weakly, the excitement deflating from him. "That wasn't you?"
George threw off his covers and stumbled out of bed. Fred followed him closely behind, as Lee pointed down the stairs to the main common room. There were already crowds of people standing around and staring at something. And as Fred and George came into the room, it became apparent what they were looking at. The doors to the bathrooms were propped open, and inside there were mounds of bubbles. They spilled out of every sink. Every showerhead. The floor was covered with them, and it kept on coming. Oozing out of every spigot. The thousands of tiny bubbles were unstoppable.
"George! Fred!" Perfect Percy spotted them and every eye in the room fell onto the twins. "This is your doing. What have I told you about your tricks."
Before Fred or George could formulate a response, the large door that covered the entrance of Gryffindor's entrance swung open. An excited second year stumbled into the room. "The bubbles are everywhere! In every single bathroom in Hogwarts. And you should see the fountain outside. The courtyard is covered in bubbles!"
Fred and George looked at each other. They communicated silently and quickly, as the room erupted in whispers and judgemental stares at the twins. This was a joke. It had to be. But it could also be that somebody was trying to frame them. For what? Who knew. Then the moment was over, and the twins fell into their favourite characters.
"Aww, Percy." George threw his arm around his older brother, "you know that we would never, ever play another trick like this again."
"We have taste." Fred flung his arm on Percy's other side, "and hypothetically us doing the same prank within a couple of days is ridiculous!"
"Bubbles? That's so cliche." George added, shaking his head, "why anybody could do a prank with bubbles. It doesn't take a genius to cast the suds-and-buds charm."
"Even a firstie could have done this." Fred crooned. "So what makes you think-"
"-that we could have been-"
"-the ones to do this?" Both of the twins turned and gave Percy their perfect 'who me?' innocent looks.
Percy pulled himself out of their grips, his face beginning to turn a little red. "Don't think you can get out of this that easily." He pointed his finger at the twins. "Don't forget that I have lived with you for your entire lives, I know perfectly well what kind of tricks that you like to play. And this is obviously one of them."
"Oh George," George sighed, clutching his shirt, "I'm hurt. Absolutely betrayed. Percy doesn't believe us."
"It's going to be okay, Fred." Fred patted his brother on his shoulder, "you have me. And ickle Ronikins. We believe you." Fred glanced at his youngest brother, Ron who gave a rather ugly snort and shook his head.
"Leave me out of this," Ron grunted, his hair sticking up in all directions. Clearly, he had only just gotten up from bed due to the commotion.
"Well, you have at least me." Fred amended his statement.
"Just wait until mother hears about this," Percy spoke between clenched teeth. "And detention for a week, both of you."
"For what?" George, pretending to be Fred, protested. "We didn't do anything. You can't prove it."
"For disrupting the peace!" Percy flung his hands in the air. His temper getting the best of him.
"Fine." Fred, pretending to be George, shrugged. "If that's all, then we're going back to bed."
"We don't want to disrupt the peace any more than we already have." George shot back. And the twins leisurely swaggered up the stairs and into their bedroom. Once the door swung shut, and they were in their own privacy the two dropped the act.
"Fuckin prick of a brother." George kicked the post of his bed with his foot. "Thinks he can give us all the detentions just because he's a prefect."
"The power has gone to his head." Fred sighed, "although it didn't help that there were two mishaps with bubbles within the last few days."
"That's why we tend to spread out our pranks a bit." George muttered grumpily, "who do you think did it?"
"Honestly? No clue. The only other person I know who'd do a practical joke like that is Lee. But he obviously didn't do it because he thought we did it." Fred mused, "although I would like to know how it happened."
"They put something in the pipes." George flopped onto his bed face first.
"The suds-and-buds charm only works within a certain range. And I've never seen soap so foamy before." Fred added.
George twisted his head and uncovered his face. "So what do you think happened?"
"I don't know," Fred answered honestly. "I really don't know."
In this particular weekend, quite a lot of things happen in the various universes. In 152- bzzzt! ERROR.
ERROR.
ERROR.
'It matters not for what role they play. Singer. Master. Chosen from fate. It does not matter. Left alone on the frosty step, waiting to die. November second, a dark biting night. The veils of the world still thin that night. Blood travels far and wide. But for whom it calls, it cannot deny. Destiny awaits for one who was spurned. Once there were three brothers, in their tale that has been told. And now their tale is to be finished, in darkness and forbode. For when the red hair meets the green grass blades, do not be afraid. Watch and sit back, for Death starts her crusade.'
-The first, and only unique prophecy by Fred Weasley. Found in only one Universe that should not exist.