*★* WATTPAD FRIENDS AND FAMILY, WATTPAD FEATURED STORY & 2017 WATTYS WINNER!! *★* Preceded by rumors of their prophetic birth, pure-blood twins, Fred and George Weasley, follow in the footsteps of their three older brothers by attending a school for...
"A broom cupboard?" said Fred in disbelief, as a leaning scaffold of haphazardly stacked mops and broomsticks collapsed into the hall. "Why would anyone hide a broom cupboard on the seventh floor...behind such a —"
A rumble rocked his stomach, rendering Fred incapable of completing the thought.
George kicked the broomsticks aside and they hid within the unusual closet, just as Mrs. Norris skulked into the hall. The twins lit their wands and explored the map, while she trotted forward to sniff at the revolting puddles they had left behind. It was easy for Fred and George to imagine her bulging, lamplike yellow eyes casting a long and distrustful look at the door. Eventually, Mrs. Norris hissed faintly and retreated to the nearest stairwell, no doubt invigorated by the hopeful image of the twins exploding into a spectacularly unpleasant sludge.
However, they were only half interested in her departure. Their dizzy attention was fixated on the map, and how their dots appeared to be hovering within the very walls.
"Could the map-makers have forgotten to draw a broom cupboard?" asked George with a sigh.
"Unlikely," Fred whimpered.
They weren't surprised to discover a new message from the four Marauders breaking through the castle architecture above their ink dots.
Five points to the Toilers of Trouble for discovering the Room of Requirement.
Better make that ten, Mister Padfoot.
Mister Wormtail agrees. Five points each.
Only fair.
Fred struggled through a deep breath to push the doors open. George stumbled out behind him. They reached the wall and sank unceremoniously to the floor, as the entrance to the Room of Requirement faded little by little into the stone.
"This castle is a strange place..." said Fred, exasperated.
"Do you think that's a glamour?" asked George.
"All I know is...it showed itself when our need to hide...or clean a mess...became a necessity."
With their strength depleted, the twins stared blankly at the disturbing images that played out on a dingy tapestry across the hall. Above the name Barnabas the Barmy, and within a ring of thick gold thread, was a reedy and oddly dressed wizard. He stood at a crooked, unnatural angle in the center of a circle of nasty trolls, dressed in ballet slippers and lace tutus. The scene was mostly innocent at first, until the trolls decided to club him senselessly. George felt his stomach gurgle and had to look away.
His drifting eyesight came to rest on a landscape painting that hung a little further down the wall. It was then, as he stared at the rolling green hills and the quaint town in the distance, that George thought of Ottery St. Catchpole. And soon the comforting memories of home allowed his stomach to settle. But it was Fred who noticed the wizard in luxurious green robes resting at the base of the thick tree in the foreground. The wizard looked just as miserable as them. Covering his face was a rough, iron mask.
"Look who it is."
George leaned away from the wall. "He left Percy's hallway and moved to another painting."
"They're all in different paintings these days," said Fred, as he fought to stand.
The wizard in the iron mask recognized them and got to his feet as well. He bowed silently.
"Your lot isn't too safe, eh?" asked George.
The finely robed wizard shook his head.
Fred hid a foul burp and wiped his sagging mouth. "Do you know why this is happening?"
They peered in closely, as the man nodded. In what little they could see through the narrow slit in his mask, the sincerity in his eyes was unmistakable.
"Does this all have to do with the treasure?"
He shook his head once more, and then shrugged uncertainly.
"Can't tell us though, can you?"
With a last, hopeless shrug, the wizard lowered himself back down the tree. Once there, he crossed his arms over his knees.
"Don't worry," said George. "We'll find a way to keep you safe."
"Promise," said Fred in earnest.
They could almost sense a smile forming below his tragic iron mask, before they took great care in studying the Marauder's Map and left the painted man to rest in the silence of the seventh floor corridor.
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