Fred and George and the Toilers of Trouble (Year 1) ✔

Chapter 7:4

By the time Fred and George made it up the stairs to the portrait of the Fat Lady, they had already attempted to communicate with the parchment. There truly was something magical within the object, and they begged the page to divulge its secrets. It wasn't until they entered the common room and saw that Angelina Johnson was seated on the sofa reading her comic book in peace that the page chose to respond. Though they were tempted to escape to their dormitory, especially George (being on the receiving end of a dreadfully severe look), the risk of leaving off a reply was too great. So they rushed to a table near the leaded windows and hid the page from view as they read.

I am disinterested in this.

Pestering will get you nowhere.

"What should we say?"

"It's only magic. I'll get it to talk." Fred prepared to point his unreliable wand at the page when George seized his arm.

"Ruddy twig, remember?" With great care, George pressed the tip of his magic wand to the fading ink. "If pestering will get us nowhere...what will get us somewhere?"

The parchment did not respond.

He tried again. "There appears to be more than one of you present. Please, tell us who you are. What sort of magical object is this?"

Again, there was no response.

Fred scratched his chin. "What about the invisible ink, George. Try bringing it back."

Nodding, his brother tapped the page three times. "Aparecium."

Half expecting to see a puddle of ink seeping onto the desk, the boys leaned back in their chairs and sighed. Nothing happened. They inspected the parchment closely, looking for any sort of clue that could help them understand what they had discovered.

"What's this, Fred?" George asked, lifting the page to the window. Faintly illuminated in the morning sun was a name written in the top right corner.

"It's been erased, but it's not ink."

"Pencil, maybe? Cheaper than ink, mum says."

"Looks like Filch's handwriting. I recognize it from the label on the drawer in his office."

"Should we ask?"

"Worth a shot."

George lowered the page and tapped his wand to the center. In a slow whisper, he queried the enchanted writers, "Who is Lupin Black?"

The twins had only to wait a few seconds before words poured down the page.

Lupin Black? Quite a peculiar name. Don't you agree, Mr. Prongs?

That I do, Mr. Moony. Quite peculiar. Mr. Wormtail?

Undeniably. Padfoot, does the name sound familiar?

Never heard of such a wizard. He does not exist.

There you have it.

Whoever you are, please refrain from inking all over the parchment.

Mr. Padfoot agrees and asks that you be prudent if you simply must draw something.

I detect a charm in the ink.

Invisibility.

Well done, then.

Might I add, there isn't much room here to toil about with a quill. If you intend on using this parchment for other purposes, I suggest you make it count.