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

Chapter 17:2

The twins spent the next thirty minutes roaming the castle, visiting the destruction of the flooded hallway and explaining in detail what had taken place after they were separated the night before. Though the spider encounter sounded like a good time, Fred couldn't imagine the horror they had faced with the dark sorceress from Percy's hallway, and George shared his brother's suspicions when it came to the Magical Investigator.

"I wish you would have seen her name on the map, Fred. At least then we'd have something to tell Dumbledore. I mean, she has to be responsible for the paintings, don't you think?"

"I was in somewhat of a rush to save your life, as I recall. Would you've rather had me take my time?"

George smiled in relief, as they headed into the corridor of the Fat Lady. "You still haven't told me how you knew I was in trouble. Was it the map?"

"No — er — I just knew," said Fred, his forehead knotted in a bewildered expression. He stopped walking and took a shallow breath. "I'm not sure how, George. But it's awfully strange. I haven't given it much thought."

Suddenly, they heard a rustling in the corridor, followed by a gruff declaration of joy. "Oh, thank the High Wizard!"

From beside the nearby statue of Harrod the Intolerable, came Benjamin Nettles looking disheveled and half-awake, his short hair flattened to a point on one side. He was carrying a compressed feather pillow and a quilt, stamped with the seal of Gryffindor House.

"Nettles?"

"Have you been out here all night?"

The boy nodded angrily and jabbed a chubby finger at the portrait of the Fat Lady. "It's her fault! I said the right password! Said it so many times I went hoarse. She's off her nut. Good thing I hid a blanket out here after start of term, in case I got lost again."

Fred eyed the Fat Lady inquisitively. "What's he done?"

"Hmmph!" She raised her left eyebrow genteelly and gazed off into the distance. "To gain access to Gryffindor Tower, one must speak the correct password...properly! He did not, so he cannot be trusted."

George lowered his eyes and stepped forward. "The lazy Lycanthrope laughs at the lunar light."

The Fat Lady was swiftly distracted by a white horse that trotted across the arched bridge in the background. And then at a dove, fluttering down from the corner of her painting. When she happened to glance back at them, the boys were staring up at her expectantly.

"Oh, fine," she exclaimed, as her large frame parted from the wall.

"That's precisely what I said!" Benjamin spluttered.

"No, it was not!" the Fat Lady protested. "Pro-nun-see-aay-shun!"

"Ben," said George in a muted voice. "Don't make her change her mind, mate."

They waited for the frame to pivot fully, but no one said the Fat Lady couldn't be stubborn. She only allowed the boys enough room to squeeze past before slamming shut on their ankles.

"Faster next time — please!" She nervously scanned the quiet corridor. "Portraits are more at risk than ever these days."

The Gryffindor common room was bustling with activity. Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons were beginning and, with the term coming to a close, excitement for the Christmas break was profound.

Lee was the first to notice their arrival. "There you are," he said, rushing forward with a well-creased newspaper in hand. "There's a Daily Prophet article about you two...and the paintings."

The twins looked hesitantly at the bold heading.

"The Toilers of Trouble Strike Again. But we're not —" George broke when he noticed the look of regret on his brother's face. "Wait, you told Lee? Left that part out, did you?"

"I had to!" Fred defended. "He followed me after we left Hagrid's. Caught me taking off the cloak in front of a passageway."

"Are you gonna tell me what happened, or what? You two have been missing all night — and half the morning. Same with Angelina."

"A witch in black snuck into the castle. They saw her arguing with a few of the paintings," said Fred tiredly.

"She tried to drown us," George explained. "Cast a massive water spell down the ground floor corridor."

"Oh..." said Lee with a sense of newfound clarity. "Everyone was on about that during breakfast. Apparently, the Hufflepuff common room was flooded this morning. I just assumed you'd done it to wind them up. You know...for the..."

He subtly tapped the newspaper article.

George snatched the Daily Prophet from Lee's grasp. "It weren't us."

"But we'll be blamed, I'm sure."

"So, you think she was the one erasing paintings?"

"Has to be, doesn't she?"

"All right, then what about that letter from the Toilers of Trouble?"

"The witch must've planted it."

"Then why was the investigator threatening the portraits?"

Fred rubbed his temples, steeped in thought. "There's an explanation for all of this. Until we learn what it is, we should give the pranking a rest, full stop."

Lee looked disappointed when he saw George nodding in agreement.

"Well, you're not the only ones talking about the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Word around Gryffindor Tower is, Parsimonae's the best we've had in years."

"Hang on, did you bring down our things?" George asked, seeing their distinctly cracked cauldron on a nearby table beside a scroll of parchment and a ratty stack of secondhand books.

"I was hoping you'd make it in time," Lee expressed with a weakened smile. "We have a lesson with him, and then it's Potions. Don't want to be late for our first lesson now, do we?"

Fred gazed sorrowfully at the stairs leading up to the dormitories, as his brother dropped the books into their shared cauldron and lifted it by the iron handle.

"And here I was, thinking we might get some rest."