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

Chapter 27:2

"Hello, Professor Dumbledore," said the twins.

"Boys — how are we feeling?" he asked with a bemused grin.

"Just fine, sir," said Fred. "George stopped calling me George late last night. I guess the whole body switch was really throwing him off."

"That's true, but I cannot seem to stop picking my nose. Fred's fingers are so accustomed to nasal exploration that they simply can't stop themselves," said George, as a warble of unexpected laughter rolled from Dumbledore's throat. Then he composed himself, his expression turning serious.

"What happened to your bodies is regrettable, but it cheers me up to no end to see that you have not lost your sense of humor. And while I cannot reward you publicly, I would like to offer you something far more valuable."

"What's that, Professor?" asked Fred.

"Answers," he replied simply, before dragging a stool over to the space between their beds. "Mister Jordan, Miss Johnson, might I request an opportunity to speak with the boys privately?"

"Certainly, sir," said Lee.

"Of course," said Angelina, standing.

The pair waved meekly at the twins and departed from the infirmary. When they were gone, Professor Dumbledore lifted a single finger and swirled it round before flicking it in the direction of the doors, which promptly swung to a close.

"Slytherin was awarded the House Cup, eh?"

Dumbledore nodded serenely.

"What the two of you did for Vindictus Viridian and his family, as well as for the school, is commendable. Were the circumstances different, you would have received a hundred house points each for sheer bravery and dedication in the face of unknown evils. But...as such, you cannot be recognized," he declared thoughtfully. "Sad as this news may be, Fred and George, we must proceed with caution. That begins with keeping the method of Viridian's incarceration a secret. What you witnessed in the Pensieve, and what Hagrid endured, is very old and perplexing sorcery."

"She called it Bloodcraft," Fred said in a whisper, almost afraid to speak the word.

"Black Magic," George returned.

"Yes, most bewildering."

"How about that rescue, Professor Dumbledore?" George asked, after a moment's pause. "Fred caught that pill in his mouth."

"I heard," the headmaster returned with a grin. "You have a rare skill that even I do not possess."

Fred looked concerned. "Catching food with your mouth?"

"No, I can perform that trick rather well. It is your ability to know the right thing to do, with very little time to think, and to then courageously act upon that knowledge without hesitation. That is a skill most fail to possess. You are a testament to your house."

Dumbledore leaned forward to knock his fist encouragingly against the iron bedknob of Fred's cot. "That pill proves to us that, just like the flooding curse she had conjured in the hallway this year, Aruzula was properly named from the start. Her surname suits her, for she is well versed in the Dark Arts, having learned vast quantities of magic from the comforts of her painting.

"After conferring privately with Horace Slughorn, it has now been established that Aruzula Darc is particularly adept at magic in all its forms, and was rather curious about Black Magic, in particular — a detail that should have been brought to my attention long before now. It is safe to assume that we do not fully know of what she is capable. Which is why," he paused to stand, "for the meantime, it is vital that no one, outside of those who witnessed Hagrid's memories, goes looking too closely at what took place here."