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

Chapter 17:4

"I realize the term is almost concluded, but no need to fret. Our introductory lesson will showcase what you can come to expect from the remainder of this year. As you've noticed, all four houses are together, which is quite uncommon...yet necessary. In lieu of taking roll, I'll be passing around a parchment. I ask that you quill an 'X' beside your name."

They returned to the long table where George had left their things to find Angelina stacking the books that he had rudely dumped out of their cauldron.

"Must I be your mother?" she complained.

"Who told you to clean up after us?" George bickered.

"I'm making room at the table — so that everyone can sit," said Angelina irritably. "How wrong of me to assume that a twin would grasp the notion of sharing."

"Shouldn't you be under a blanket somewhere? Weren't you half-dead this morning?"

"I'm not wasting my time in the hospital wing. Especially with a witch like that prowling the castle at night. I need to learn how to defend myself against the Dark Arts."

"So, you think that was the Dark Arts?" asked Lee, in a mix of fear and elation.

"I hope not," Angelina replied, lowering her gaze.

For several minutes, the Magical Investigator stood at the front of the classroom, leaning against the desk. He stroked his box jaw winsomely, and perused his students while they passed the roll. When it returned to him, he thanked them all with a noble nod and tore the parchment in half. They gasped in shock.

"The magical persona you embodied before stepping into this class will soon cease to exist. Your mental prowess will be forever changed. Let me start..." he paused to sip a slow breath, "...by formally introducing myself. My name is Lexington Earlisius Parsimonae. I am a Magical Investigator for the Ministry of Magic, and I'm here to bring a resolution to the crimes of the Toilers of Trouble, and to shed light on their regrettable destruction of school property...namely the many paintings that have been defiled across this illustrious establishment. If you are a fan of the Dark Force Defense League comic book, my job title at the Ministry may be familiar to you. Magical Investigation has been popularized through fantastical stories that are, unfortunately, quite unlike the everyday drudgery wherein the truth lies. Do not pay them any mind."

From the corners of their eyes, the twins noticed Angelina stirring in her seat. With much harrumphing, she noisily hid one of her more wrinkled comics between the pages of her Potions book.

"Was there a question?" the investigator asked, tilting his head in her direction.

"It's just — the Master of Mystery. He dresses like you. I thought...perhaps..."

Parsimonae chuckled. "We share the same tailor, my dear. This is our regulated uniform, as it were."

Cedric Diggory raised his hand. "Where are we, exactly?"

"The classroom of Professor Moira Mulligan. She teaches Study of Ancient Runes, a subject which is limited to those who have reached their third year of schooling. As I'm sure you've been made aware, Professor Allergen's room has...er...gone missing." He scratched his cheek uncertainly. "The castle seems to have swallowed it up after the so-called mishap. There was a suitable classroom that had been fitted for our needs, but we suffered yet another mishap in the night, attributed to a very significant leak in an even more significant water pipe." He shot a quick glance in Fred and George's direction. "Nevertheless, we've no time to tarry. I am borrowing this room from Professor Mulligan until the damage on the ground floor has been remedied. I do happen to enjoy this classroom, though it is awfully dark. Speaking of..." He brought out his wand and skimmed it across the curtained wall. "To face the darkness, one must embrace the light!"

The window coverings slid open, filling the room with dust-speckled sunbeams. Professor Parsimonae approached a covered birdcage that was resting atop an iron pedestal beside the desk. Smiling approvingly, he revealed a vibrantly turquoise bird to the class. They stared in awe at its fine brown wings that spread out like giant oak leaves, and its long, jagged tail that looked more like a collection of daggers than feathers. What caught their attention most of all, was the iron and leather muzzle that housed its steely white, hooked beak.

"This exotic, seldom seen beast is called a Meantail. It is said to hold all sorts of fabled powers, but history likes to stretch the truth now and again. Regrettably, this bird is but ornamentation. Why bring it to Hogwarts, you ask? It has a fine song that will hopefully inspire your minds during my lengthier lectures. In fact, I may just bottle a refrain or two, so that Professor Mulligan can have a listen in the privacy of her quarters."

The students inched forward in their seats as the investigator opened the cage door and reached inside to draw back the leather straps. The Meantail shook its brilliantly feathered head, and the loosened muzzle dropped to the floor of the cage. At once, the bird began its soft and harmonious song, capturing them all in wonder.

"Enchanting, is she not?" he asked with an effervescent smile. "Now, as I've said, there is much to cover and time is of the essence." Parsimonae glanced down at his shiny gold pocket watch. "How appropriate that Professor Dumbledore taught you about the value and perils of time, because it is against us from the start. Your first term is reaching its close and we haven't yet begun. Our lessons will be long and, at times, arduous. But missing half a year is an uphill battle we must fight head on. All common considerations on the passing of time have become an indulgence. Although this is not a double lesson, by the end of the hour it will, most assuredly, feel like one. So — let us begin!"