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

Chapter 21:2

After breakfast, Fred and George tried for the fifth time in two weeks to access the room behind Gregory the Smarmy. But with Tonks always looming half a corridor away, they had no choice but to head over to Defense Against the Dark Arts ten minutes early. They were in the middle of discussing how to elude her long enough to retrieve the journals of the four Marauders when they stumbled into a private conversation happening at the front of the classroom.

"You will obey me, Ian," said Parsimonae stridently.

The twins scurried to hide behind the runic stone, which had finally been raised and returned to the center of the room. Then they spun back and waved courteously to Tonks, as she passed the open doorway.

"The rest of your family is counting on you to keep my purpose in being here a secret," their professor continued.

Together, Fred and George peered around the stone to see Ian Parsimonae standing in stubborn silence.

"Who have you told?"

"No one," the boy replied, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Well someone knows, I'm sure of it. We cannot fail. Not after all this time," said the investigator, as he slammed a book shut on his desk. It collapsed his top hat and loosed a length of parchment that snapped back into its scroll and dropped to the floor. "Tell me what you will do, Ian."

"I will say nothing...do nothing," he droned.

"Precisely right. Now leave before the first years arrive."

Ian sped as fast as he could out of the classroom without actually running, and shoved Lee aside as he entered the corridor. Fred and George took their time in getting to their desks, ogling Parsimonae and judging every gesture.

"Bit last minute, but Happy Birthday."

Lee skipped over to them and handed the twins the April edition of The Quibbler, a magazine that was distributed by a neighbor of theirs named Lovegood. It was a generally disrespected publication. Love good, write bad, their father always said.

"It's not your everyday reporting, but there's an article on page seven I think you'll enjoy."

They thanked him and Lee returned to his seat, while a procession of students entered the room. Lovegood's magazine remained untouched as they watched Lexington draw back the curtains before unmuzzling the Meantail.

Apart from the bird's enchanting song, it was another exhausting lesson. Defense Against the Dark Arts began with a troubling riddle, this time a trick with numbers, and continued on with a demonstration of quill encryption for sending encoded messages, followed by a lengthy practice time. The twins mastered the skill in minutes by breaking down all they had heard between Professor Parsimonae and his rotten son. And when they were satisfied with the conclusion that the Magical Investigator would soon be returning to his quest for the treasure of Hogwarts Castle, they busied themselves by studying the Marauder's Map. And it was standard activity for most of the ink dots, with one exception. Hagrid was lingering in Percy's portrait hall again, moving awfully slow.

When the Meantail's song was muzzled to silence, it often signaled the end of one boring class and the start of another. And yet, on that day, Professor Binns began his lecture in History of Magic on an event from twelve years prior, when The Boy Who Was Twins entered the wizarding world. Their translucent instructor unwittingly passed around a few copies of the original article from the Daily Prophet, without realizing that the infants in question were attending his class, and sitting in the third row of the stepped auditorium.

"These two are Merry Andrews, no doubt," he continued, in his dry, shriveled voice. "Mischief-makers bent on disorder, without regard for the consequences. There are many individuals, across our long and glorious history, who have used such means to disrupt and to divide. Why, even here at Hogwarts, one such incident went horribly wrong and ended not only in a fellow student's demise, but in the prankster being expelled from the school — and thus barred from practicing the magical arts."

As Professor Binns carried on about Enoch the Bastard, and his reign of stupidity that ended at the turn of the fifteenth century on Moll's Gap bridge, the Daily Prophet article wove its way to Fred and George. It was astounding to be confronted so unexpectedly by a never-before-seen family portrait. Bill and Charlie were only children, swaying merrily at the foot of the bed. Toddler Percy looked distractedly at his shoelaces. Their father, holding both of the twins, was absolutely beaming. Their mother, on the other hand, looked depleted from the birth and beleaguered by the onslaught of blinding flash bulbs that went off every few seconds.

Fred glanced up at Professor Binns, who bobbed in place, his silvery white loafers floating a foot off the ground.

"He was talking about Hagrid just then, wasn't he?"

George nodded. "We need to be careful not to take things too far."

Grinning at their sweet photograph, Fred folded the paper and stuffed it into his robe. "We'll start tomorrow, undoubtedly. For now, this belongs in the chest behind Gregory the Smarmy. I don't suppose your evening is free?"

"Head up there before midnight, shall we?"

"It is our birthday. Perhaps we should live up to our reputations."