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

Chapter 21:5

Fred and George twirled, their hearts thrumming erratically. Professor Kettleburn was advancing on them with a limp. He unzipped a worn leather sheath on the right arm of his coat, revealing a gruesome stump where a hand had once been. Kettleburn shoved his arm into the wall and, after a series of snaps, withdrew the fist, showering the floor with crumbled limestone. Taking in a slow, rattling gasp, he nursed the mechanized hand and managed to restrain his fury, as a weathered frown quivered ever lower on his abysmal face.

"What're you doing prowling the Restricted Section at night?" asked the professor forcefully.

So taken aback by him, Fred and George turned their eyes away and happened to notice a book on the bench across the hall where Kettleburn had been waiting. Before he could block it from view, they saw the flaking gold letters on the cover. He had removed a book from the library. A book on mythical creatures.

"Did it have something to do with our gutless gamekeeper? I know you've been down to see him," he growled corrosively, edging forward. "What is Hagrid up to in that cabin of his? The lamp is lit at all hours."

"Er — he was cooking soup," said George simply, trying not to slip about Witherwings.

"And Fang got into something," said Fred. "Hagrid needed our help to patch up the poor hound." He waved a hand in front of Kettleburn's face. "Small fingers. Easier to take out the prickles." Fred mimed the action.

"He's our friend," George defended.

"Good," the man croaked. "Better that he trusts you. In fact..."

Kettleburn loosened a bolt on his iron chest plate. A dented silver pocket hissed open. From within the pocket, he produced a thin chain. Dangling from its length was the symbol of a golden triangular eye. Kettleburn swayed it in front of their faces.

"Have you seen this symbol anywhere inside Hagrid's hut?"

The twins shook their heads as they stared, entranced by the triangular eye. If they were not mistaken, the bizarre golden eye was splashed in crusty, dried blood.

"Hmm..." Kettleburn groaned, replacing the necklace to his pocket and smacking it shut. "Stay away from that symbol. It brings nothing but death and destruction. And if you catch Hagrid being dodgy...especially if he's doing something that could harm the students...you let me know."

"Why would Hagrid do anything to harm us?" Fred snapped back. Although the boys had their suspicions about his involvement with the paintings, they were certain he wouldn't dare hurt the students deliberately.

"Hagrid was expelled from Hogwarts. Are you aware of the reason?"

"We heard from the house-elves," George confessed. "There was a death at the school...Moaning Myrtle. It was unintentional, clearly."

"Is that what you believe?" Kettleburn backed away. For the first time, they saw the hint of a grin cutting across his mangled face. "Did the house-elves forget to mention that the death you speak of was caused by a creature that Hagrid released upon the castle? Or that the death only took place after the threats...and after he had finished practicing?"

"Practicing?" they asked.

"First, he petrified six others. And those six were rather unique. Curious to know the reason?"

The twins shook their heads idly.

"All had Muggle parentage. Hagrid despises Muggle-born wizards. He wanted them barred from the school. And do you know who else wanted that very thing? A certain dictator who was in power at the time," he paused, seeing the recognition on their faces. "Yes, he was doing the bidding of Grindelwald the Many."

"Hagrid? A Grindelwald sympathizer?" said George flabbergasted. "He can't be!"

"No, worse. He's a secret member of the Fondatori, meant to infiltrate this castle. He wasn't the first and won't be the last. Why else would he threaten to exterminate the Muggle-borns who stand in the way?" Kettleburn snorted with malice. "And then there's you lot. He's taken such a liking to the Weasley twins, hasn't he? You're pure-bloods...if I'm not mistaken."

"I won't believe it," said Fred. "Never."

The ghastly professor tilted his head away disdainfully. "You sound like Dumbledore. That man has yet to place blame on Hagrid, which is why the oaf has never left. I, on the other hand, am utterly convinced." Kettleburn looked down at his scarred metal hand, unscrewed it from its threaded wrist, and clipped it to the large metal ring of replacements on his waist before gesturing to the empty hall. "Go on. Back to your dormitory. Next time, it'll be the dungeons."

It was minutes later when George felt comfortable enough to speak.

"That was close," he breathed, as they entered the gallery of moving staircases. "What was that triangular eye nonsense?"

"And did you see that book?" Fred asked. "He knows Hagrid is hiding a creature in his cabin. It won't be long before Kettleburn discovers that it's a Hippogriff."

"He's got to be wrong about Hagrid. I mean, you don't think he would ever do something to hurt the students, do you?"

"Hagrid said Hippogriffs can be dangerous. He might've done it accidentally."

"But not the portraits, Fred."

"I dunno, George. He has been spending a lot of time around here...recently..."

The twins stopped dead.

They had arrived upon a row of ten erased paintings. Some were shredded in their frames, and all of them had a letter attached carefully to the base. A sinking feeling of dread stole over the twins. Fred reached for one of the envelopes, just as a gasp of satisfaction rang out from the top of the stairs.

"I knew it," said a silky voice.

Fred and George turned to find Mr. Filch standing stiffly behind them, cradling his cadaverous cat in one arm and positively aching with joy. To his right was Nymphadora Tonks, proudly showing off her bare feet — the reason the boys hadn't heard them coming.

"Er...we..." George stammered.

Fred's mouth fell open, but no words could explain their carelessness. He just stood there, white with shock, holding the unopened letter.

"Look, my sweet," Filch snarled to Mrs. Norris. "It's the Dungbomb boys."

"I can see the headlines, now. Naughty Redheads, Caught Red-handed," said Tonks, the corners of her mouth lifting in a clever grin.