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

Chapter 12:4

Now that most of their treats from Honeydukes Sweetshop were spread across the table, the boys got to snacking. Although neither of them desired to spoil the Halloween feast, and eagerly watched their fellow students joining in the revelry on the map, Fred chomped away while flipping through their new Famous Witch and Wizard cards, and George couldn't stop himself from eating something called a Pepper Imp that promised to fill his mouth with smoke. While it did have lovely butterscotch overtones, it was mostly a dud.

"Ahem..."

The twins turned to see the barman staring down at them from behind filthy spectacles. His long, yet thin, gray beard swayed as he carried on drying a tall glass with a soiled, brown rag. "I don't reckon you've been here before. Unless you're buying drinks, you'll see yourselves out."

"Why, of course we're getting drinks, good sir," said Fred boisterously. "Two of your hottest and foamiest butterbeers. One for my brother and one for myself."

"Four sickles," the large man replied swiftly.

"Four bloody sickles?" George gasped, releasing a dismal amount of Pepper Imp smoke.

"That's right."

The twins sighed and reached for their new silver coins. "Might we be allowed to share one?" asked Fred in a meeker voice.

"Why not? Looks to me like you share everything," he muttered. "Two Sickles, then."

Grudgingly, the twins handed their coins to the barman just as a man in a silk top hat strode forward and dropped ten Sickles onto the table. They recognized his strong jaw and perfectly tailored hair at once.

"I'll take care of that, Dumbledore," he said. "And bring me a Roughwater, will you?"

"I'll return with 'em shortly, Lex."

Fred stared curiously at their sudden benefactor. "Thanks for that. You're the Magical Investigator we saw on Knockturn Alley."

"Quite right, you are. And, once again, I find the pair of you in a place you don't belong." He removed his top hat and hung it from a hook on the stair railing above them. "Move aside, will you, George."

"How'd you know it was me?" asked George in disbelief. "Not even our dad can tell us apart."

Lexington Parsimonae sat, wearing a shrewd grin. "Some cases are easily solved."

"He's an investigator, isn't he?" said Fred, with a bemused expression. "Mister Parsimonae, why did you call the barman, Dumbledore?"

"That's his name," he answered speedily, pointing to a dull brass plaque that hung crookedly behind the bar. "Aberforth Dumbledore, Proprietor. He's your headmaster's brother."

"Dumbledore's brother is the barman?" howled George. "I suppose he does look similar, if you squint."

"Well, now we know who busted up his nose, don't we?" Fred affirmed. "Apparently ours isn't the only family with a black sheep."

"Two black sheep, Fred."

"Twin sheep."

"Were I you...either of you...I'd refrain from carrying on such a conversation. Sensitive topic, families." Lexington grunted and moved some of their sweets aside. "That's why I'm here, in fact. I was hoping to meet my son at the Three Broomsticks, but he's nowhere to be seen. I thought, perhaps, he went looking in the wrong pub. Alas, that is not the case. Have you met Ian at Hogwarts?"

The twins held their breath. Ian Parsimonae was one of the Slytherin players who had just terrified them by animating the scarecrows at the Shrieking Shack. Of course, they knew him. He was an enemy of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Thankfully, they didn't have to explain this to the boy's father, because Aberforth was making his way back to their table with two iron flagons of butterbeer and a smoking goblet of bright green liquid.

"Your Roughwater." he said gruffly, setting the drinks down before them.

"Cheers," Lexington answered, seizing his tall glass. "To Halloween, boys."

"To Halloween," they replied in unison.

Fred and George sipped their frothy butterbeers and watched as the investigator's eyes enlarged unexpectedly. At first, the boys thought it had something to do with his peculiar drink, but then they noticed where he was looking. He had seen the Marauder's Map. They forgot to put it away! Fred did his best to subtly cover the map with a half-empty box of Licorice Wands, but it was too late. Lexington was already setting down his glass and reaching for the parchment.

"Is this how you made it out of the castle unseen?" he inquired, holding the square map to the faint candle light of a nearby table.

"Oh, that? It's nothing, really," said Fred, as he casually guzzled down a hot swig of butterbeer that scorched his throat.

George followed with his own desperate explanation. "The Quidditch team thinks we're serving detention, and our friends think we're practicing Quidditch. That's just a project we're working on for...er...Professor Binns."

"Nice attempt, but I know strong magic when I see it," he said distantly. They could see the wheels turning behind his eyes, as the investigator attempted to comprehend the vast implications of what he was holding. "Do you think it's a treasure map?"

"This? Nah..." said Fred, hesitantly.

"Just a map of the school, is all," said George.

Lexington Parsimonae continued to marvel at the parchment. Slowly, without even glancing at what he was doing, he brought down his silk hat from the hook and began rustling into the opening. Somehow, the brim was up to his shoulder when he finally spoke again. "This is not just any map...it shows everyone at the school. Ingenious! No doubt something you found at the castle?"

"Yeah," the boys muttered as he continued to rummage through the secret contents of his top hat. They did not want to reveal more than was necessary.

"Should have found a way of concealing this if you didn't want anyone to see," said the investigator.

"It used to be invisible," said Fred.

"We got it working, but now we don't know how to turn it off," said George in a worried whisper.

"Maybe I can help."

From within the top hat, Lexington removed a crystal monocle on a bronze chain, a bright red eraser, and a small vial of glittery powder. He uncorked the vial, raised it over the parchment and gently tapped the powder onto the surface.

"I don't think you should be doing that," Fred urged uncertainly, as George inspected the rubber eraser.

"What's this for? The map is drawn with ink," said George.

"Trust me, boys," Lexington said calmly, as he placed the monocle over his left eye. At once, his eyes widened. "This is extraordinary. But the marking there — that can't be right."

The twins peered at the map impatiently.

"What do you see?" George begged.

"Tell us," Fred insisted.