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

Chapter 15:5

After returning to the room behind Gregory the Smarmy to switch out the baking supplies for a hinged wooden box that held a devilish gift (care of journal number four, page twenty-five), the twins nipped up to the Owlery through the courtyard with two envelopes at the ready.

"Are you sure Filch has abandoned his post?" asked George, under his breath. "Where is he now?"

"Patrolling the corridors outside Gryffindor Tower, no doubt searching for telltale signs of Weasley wrongdoing," Fred replied in a composed voice, as he stuffed the map into his robe.

"And our dear, know-it-all brother?"

"In his happy place, surrounded by heaps of dusty books."

With a firm nod, George led them through the throng of students in the courtyard, most of whom were waiting impatiently on Professor McGonagall, who was withholding their admittance to Hogsmeade. Before the boys were able to slip away unseen, they noticed her staring warily at the ominous clouds overhead, mumbling on about foolishness and frozen limbs.

Upon choosing two of the liveliest owls to send missives from the Toilers of Trouble, the twins departed from the Owlery by way of a filthy broomstick they had stashed atop the rafters during a previous visit. The map showed that Filch was returning to the dingy mattress that half-concealed the tower entrance. So with one eye on the map and the other on his twin, George floated them down to the changing rooms to dress into their robes as a precautionary measure, in case they were delayed before the match. And when they reached the drafty hallway outside the library, the boys learned that they had been right to do so.

Through the diamond-shaped glass of the corridor windows, Fred and George could see the teams gathering at the changing room doors, while the rest of the school flowed onto the grounds toward the Quidditch pitch. The stands were already filling with first and second years and it was hardly nine o'clock. By midday, the Ravenclaw team would be facing Gryffindor, otherwise known as the 'new threat to Slytherin', and the anticipation made claiming seats with the best view a necessity. On a normal day, Fred and George would have been distracted by the pressure to win, but they had been yearning to wind-up Percy from the moment they stumbled across page twenty-six of journal number four. A Quidditch win was important, unquestionably, but there were more essential priorities to consider.

"Our stuffy brother is going to love this," Fred insisted.

"He's such a good sport," agreed George, picking up speed as they approached the library doors. "But poor Scabbers."

"Yes, 'tis true," said Fred drolly, while lowering himself under the cloak. "One man's victory is another man's defeat."

"Another rat's defeat."

"Well spoken, brother. Humiliation is but an unfortunate byproduct of war."

"No one's fault, really."

"We're just trying to make our way in the world."

Fred and George entered the vacant library with nimble steps. The room was so silent that Madam Pince's ordinarily incomprehensible mutterings seemed to gather in the haze below the coffered ceiling. Even the rough scrawls of her floating, enchanted quill were distinct and crisp to the ear, as the twins stole across the room beneath the Invisibility Cloak.

They spotted Percy on the upper level, entombed in stacks of books and beside a battered, wooden cage. His bramble of bright red hair fluttered in the breeze from the open window, giving away his location. Of course, the twins didn't need the Marauder's Map to know where their pompous brother would be headquartered on the weekend. His secondhand robes consistently reeked of stale and neglected library books.