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

Chapter 25:1

THE DARC WITCH

Fred exited the plumbing pipe as close to the moving portrait gallery as possible. From the seventh floor, he could hear them all talking. Professor Mulligan, who had joined the conflict, was busy curtailing a thick and cloudy spell that had gotten out of hand in Fred's absence, while Hagrid and Professor Kettleburn searched urgently for George and Aruzula Darc.

He reopened the map and looked closely at the octagonal room with the tiled snake floor. The entrance was hidden within the stairwell. Fred knew he couldn't just stroll right into the room. There was no place to hide, and he had yet to learn the motives of those who were patrolling the gallery. Inspecting the ink lines of the castle architecture, he recalled a thin passage they had seen on the map once before and had never taken. It was dangerous and would require a bit of roof climbing, but, according to the Marauders, it was the only way to spy on what was happening inside that room without raising suspicion. Fred only hoped, as he peered through an open window at the approaching thunderclouds, that he could reach them before something terrible happened to his brother.

George glared at the mysterious woman as she paced in silence.

The strangely decorative room was paneled in tall strips of dark oak, which absorbed the scant moonlight through the windows high above. It was almost impossible to see her face, and yet George could swear that she was grinning.

Aruzula Darc took hold of his shirt sleeve and dragged him across the floor toward the center of the room, where she sat him on the lonely chair. George recognized the dusty oval table on his right, with the forgotten candlestick, the snake door knocker, and the long-stemmed clay pipe. Leaving him, she strained to hear the murmuring voices from the stairwell beyond the sealed portal door.

"Whatever you're planning, it won't work!" said George, with venom in his voice.

Aruzula removed a square tin from her robe. She lowered it carefully to the table before sauntering across the room in grand movements.

"This was not my intention, but...there's no other way," Darc said simply. "They're going to find him and learn everything, which means...well...let's just say that cannot happen."

She returned to the table and opened the tin. Inside were two small capsules of swirling, dark red liquid.

George puffed out his chest. "You'll never get the treasure. We won't let you."

"Treasure?" She laughed. "Stop your prattling. If you insist on being a disruption, I'll be forced to remove your tongue. No, actually. I spoke too soon," she noted, patting his head with a smile. "I'll be needing that tongue..."

"What?!" George asked in a frenzy, leaping to his feet. His mind traced back to a vague comment from Professor Sprout, when she had threatened to remove Lee's tongue amid a claim that it could bring him back from the dead after drowning.

Aruzula pushed him back into the chair with one hand and shoved the pill into his mouth with the other. And before he could spit it out, the long tip of her wand brushed past his lips.

"Poseidus Auguamenti..."

Eyes widening, he convulsed in his chair, as Aruzula cast the dark spell, flooding his mouth instantly. George wriggled and coughed spurts of water onto his sweater. Aruzula Darc removed her wand abruptly and, looking proud of herself, strolled gracefully across the room, following the path of the snake in the tiled floor. George was grateful to be alive, but he had swallowed the red capsule in the struggle.

"What did you just do to me?" he barked, his eyes bulging.

"I've had that particular concoction on hand for some time," said Aruzula coolly. "Before now, I was too squeamish to use it. I could never find the right person. That option has expired, I'm afraid. You will have to do. And to answer your question, the pill you swallowed is a variant of Polyjuice Potion. But, whereas Polyjuice weakens over time, the effects of this pill are absolute."

"Er — what does that mean?" George gulped.

"Permanent...endless...perpetual..." Aruzula Darc paused, allowing her words to inhabit his mind. "Perhaps you're too young to understand. The pill you just swallowed will transfer your essence into my body, and mine into yours. Its effects are irreversible. In a matter of minutes, once the potion has taken root, I will consume the second pill...and all will be remedied."

When George continued to stare blankly at her, Aruzula broke down the coming transformation to its most basic conclusion.

"We are going to switch bodies, boy."

"SWITCH BODIES?!" George hollered, squirming to escape the yellow binding spell. "NO — I won't allow it!"

"Oh...yes, you will! And when we're through, I shall finally be permitted to live freely."

"You used the Dark Arts on me!" he said, with a shudder.

"Dark Arts? Ha! Dark and Light — there is no difference," she asserted, admiring her long black nails. "One simply demands more...nerve..."

Through a sudden flourish of her wand, an hourglass of floating fire emerged in the space between them. The room brightened, as it began trickling down the seconds in drips of molten sand.

"Seeing that you look thoroughly confused, and with very little time before I can take the red pill and complete the transformation, I think its best that I get to know all I can about you...in order to make the lie more believable. Let's begin with my new name? Tell me, who are you?" she asked, as he gnawed on his tongue in protest. Aruzula allowed her wand arm to roam. It lingered on his eyes. "Come, boy. Surely you don't want your last few minutes of life to be filled with boundless suffering."

"George Weasley! And do feel free to die at your earliest convenience."

"Both foolish and brave...must be a Gryffindor."

"I am a Gryffindor," he said boldly. "And I'm not afraid to speak my name, because I know that you will never succeed. You'll never swallow that pill."

"All well and good. But if I don't, you will die in the most spectacular fashion," Aruzula explained, before giving pause. "Wait, Weasley? Ugh! You're from that pitifully poor family, aren't you? And George? I think not." The beautiful witch bent low to inspect his face. "I'll develop a suitable nickname before long. And that dreadful red hair must go."

"Do what you want with me...it doesn't matter," George proclaimed, as he continued to struggle against the binding spell. "You could never be a Weasley!"