The founders of Hogwarts, combined had the power to create, destroy and conquer, power beyond a muggles wildest dreams. Hogwarts was their home, their joy and when they discovered its future destiny, a war prophesied to murder youths and obliterate...
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Lavinia chomped on her slice of toast with a contented expression. That morning, she'd been glad to awaken before Draco and Pansy and by the time she was fully dressed and heading to the Great Hall, they were still dozing. Lavinia did her best to avoid staring at the blond man in the next bed over, hair significantly curlier without product and dusting across his face. He was youthful in sleep, unburdened.
"I reckon we set off fireworks outside her office," George suggested, scooping porridge into his mouth with the force of an animal. They'd both bombarded the Daughter of Hogwarts the instant she entered the Great Hall, sitting with her at the emerald table where they deemed an appropriate position to plot and scheme Umbridge's downfall.
"Hmm, we need something bigger," Fred returned, his face highly contemplative. Lavinia hadn't bothered to question their methods but she could practically hear their ideas ringing in the air. Their mental shields were weak, at best, but with such excitement on their mind-- it was impossibly worse. "What do you reckon, Lavi, anything up your sleeve?" Fred winked, an act that she assumed modern boys had a tendency for. She didn't like that expression on his, the twinkling in his eyes as though he was staring at a grand prize. Mostly, she disliked it as she couldn't understand it.
"You are requesting my help?... With pranking?" she wondered and they shot her identical grins. For the first time, Lavinia began to consider what they could do to irritate the woman. "Well, the primary aim is, of course, to not get caught. It would be entirely beside the point to be captured and forced into detention. However, you wish the student body to recognise your work. If I were, for example, planning a revolt against somebody such as Umbridge, I'd enlist some help,"
"Oh? And who would be worthy of our attention, Mighty one?" Fred questioned with a smirk, leaning his elbow on the table.
"There happens to be a certain poltergeist roaming the third-floor corridors who would be overjoyed with the opportunity to stir some trouble, especially an infiltrator of the school such as Professor Umbridge. Plausible deniability-- blame the entire circumstance on Mister Peeves, he'd be more than happy to take the blame and glory for something, the rest of the school would know it was you and Umbridge would not be able to punish a ghost," she mused, buttering her second slice of toast carefully. Fred looked up at George, some form of silent communication passing between them.
"And how do we get him to help us?" George questioned, seeming to genuinely consider her ideas.
"Peeves requires little encouragement to cause trouble, appeal to the mischief in him with your own. He has watched generations of troublemakers pass through these halls. I doubt he'd deny the chance to join them," she bit her toast, glancing at Fred who was already looking at her. Awkwardly, she smiled and he returned it, staring at her again as though he'd never seen her before.
