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

Chapter 15:8

When Professor Dumbledore closed his eyes to draw a slow breath before speaking, Fred and George couldn't suppress the feeling that they were moments away from witnessing their own downfall.

"Your continued silence is requested, thank you. I want to begin by speaking to the state of the Gryffindor Chaser, Shep Quarter. Madam Pomfrey has confirmed his status, and it seems that he will be fully recovered in a matter of days. As a seventh year student, he is more aware than most that injuries in this game are common and often considerably more gruesome than what he has suffered. And yet, this was unnecessary."

He broke to clear his throat and looked askance at an oily filament of green goop that drooled from Quirrell's purple turban. At the Slytherin table, Tenice Montague and Oscar Meaney joined their teammates in heckling the timid man.

"I do believe I asked for complete silence. The unfortunate prank that befell our Enchantments professor during the game inadvertently placed every player on the field in near fatal danger. Hence, you have witnessed the most recent performance of the Toilers of Trouble. Nevertheless, it was not their only act of the day. That is why your Quidditch match had to be cancelled."

Dumbledore surveyed the hall, intent on seeing their response. "In the library this afternoon, a student's animal companion was unlawfully transfigured. Percy Weasley, please stand and display your cage to the rest of the school," he said, as a fair number of Slytherin students broke out in cackles and hoots at the yellow rat and the pathetic expression on Percy's face.

"This is no laughing matter! Twenty points will be taken from Slytherin House."

The headmaster spoke with such authority that even the professors felt the need to straighten up in their seats. The twins saw Percy's look of embarrassment and realized that it didn't match Professor Dumbledore's reaction.

Something far worse was on the way.

"Remind me, brother," Fred asked, keeping an eye on the High Table. "What did one dung beetle say to the other dung beetle?"

"Trouble is a foot," George softly replied.

"Percy, you may sit," said Dumbledore plainly. The young Weasley complied. It was the first time their brother was all too happy to hide his face under the hood of a dark robe. The Headmaster cleared his throat a second time. "I have sent word to a gentleman from the Ministry of Magic who will aid us in seeking out these scoundrels, and I have confidence that he will take all appropriate measures to expose their identities. To the more curious minds in the room, you have doubtless heard rumors pertaining to the activities performed by these students, but I would ask that you keep your theories to yourselves as I continue."

He held out a long, heavily cloaked arm. "On Monday next, a Magical Investigator will be joining us at the staff table. As he launches his investigation, we expect nothing less than your full cooperation with this matter, leaving all skepticism aside."

A few of the teachers glanced nervously at Professor Snape, who was exhaling a shuddering breath.

"Investigation by way of magic is a trade that some wizards find meaningless and distasteful. In any event, he will be calling Hogwarts his home until the culprits are found and, very likely, removed from the premises. Moreover, he has accepted the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

A hush fell over the room. While many students squirmed unnervingly, the Weasley twins felt themselves cowering into their seats.

"Ordinarily, these matters would not require such a response, but...as was stated earlier...some rather vexing behavior has come to my attention, causing me to redirect my assumptions on the level of magical skill in the Toilers of Trouble...as well as their capacity for contempt when it comes to our rules here at Hogwarts. What began as silly pranks has gone completely to pot, as they say. These hooligans must be stopped."

Professor Dumbledore paused one final time to survey the faces looking back at him. Fred and George swore he was reading their minds, as his stern, yet astute, gaze panned the four house tables from over his half-moon spectacles.

"What upsetting prank has given me such pause, you ask? The worst exploit thus far, I am afraid. Another of our fine paintings has been obliterated."

From behind the High Table, Hagrid solemnly lifted a tall, gilded frame. The canvas within was a dull, ruined brown — the color of sun-cracked earth. All signs of the once exquisite portrait had vanished. Madam Pince sighed forlornly and slumped deeper into her chair, fanning herself with a napkin.

"While we initially assumed that this could not be the work of a student, that judgment was misplaced. For, on this occasion, the individuals who erased the paintings left us a message."

Out of his long midnight-blue robe, he pulled an envelope. He unfolded the letter, then lifted his chin before speaking with a clear and resonant voice.

"The Toilers of Trouble Have Struck Again. Be Ye Warned."

The Headmaster's simple reading echoed through the Great Hall, as the students looked on in shock. Although only two of them were sweating, knowing full well that they had not written such a letter.

"Fred," said George distractedly.

"Yes, George?" Fred replied.

"You didn't...?"

"No, did you...?"

"No."

Swallowing anxiously, they strained to listen to the conversations around them as Hagrid lowered the destroyed painting, to Madam Pince's distress. Moments later, Dumbledore instructed the Heads of Houses to escort everyone out of the Great Hall and to their common rooms.

"Fred."

"Yes, George?"

"I think we're —"

"— being framed."