Summary: By their third week at Hogwarts, Fred and George already have a reputation for mischief and mayhem; the only thing standing in the way of perfect pranking is the complexity of the castle itself (not to mention a certain insufferable brother). But when the twins happen upon a piece of magical, mysterious, and ill-mannered parchment, they may end up in rather more trouble than they bargained for. How will those two wily Weasleys earn the trust and unlock the secrets of the Marauders Map?
Categories: General Fics Characters: None
Warnings: None
Challenges: Series: None
Chapters: 1
Completed: No
Word count: 1629
Read: 1826
Published: 04/07/10
Updated: 04/14/10
1. Chapter 1: Confiscated and Highly Dangerous by Calico
Chapter 1: Confiscated and Highly Dangerous by Calico
Chapter 1: Confiscated and Highly Dangerous
“We ought to give it to him.”
Fred and George both looked down at the parchment on the table before them, a mixture of respect and wistfulness in each gaze.
“But George “”
“We don’t really need it anymore. We know Hogwarts as well as the Marauders ever did, if not better.”
Fred sighed. “But think how hard we worked for it! Think of everything we had to go through! And now you’re saying we should just…”
“Give it away, yeah. But Harry needs it more than we do.”
“All right. But let’s not tell him the passwords. We can let him figure those out for himself, the way we did.”
George shook his head. “We can’t. He won’t be able to get to Hogsmeade today without having full access.”
“Fine, we’ll tell him everything,” Fred conceded. “But he’d get a lot more out of it if he had to do everything we did.”
“Of course he would. But he’d also probably lose a lot of points for Gryffindor in the process. He hasn’t got our level of skill just yet.”
Fred grinned. “That’s true. Then again, no one has. Not since the Marauders.” He patted the map affectionately before fixing his twin with a steady eye. “Shall we be off, then?”
George nodded and stood up. He lifted the map from the table, scanning the corridors and classrooms until he found the moving dot he was searching for. “Harry’s on the third floor. Let’s go.”
“Wait,” said Fred, pulling out his wand. “Let’s finish this off properly.”
George nodded in tacit understanding. Together the twins touched their wands to the yellowed parchment before them and said what they needed to say.
“Mischief managed.”
~~~
BANG!
Several people shrieked as lurid green smoke smelling of bad eggs filled the Entrance Hall. For a moment everything was obscured, so that disjointed shouts of “That was my toe!” and “What’s happened?” and “It’s those damn Weasley twins again!” could be heard from the stalled crowd.
“Where are they?” snarled a voice above the bedlam. “Where are the culprits? Sniff them out, my sweet! Find them!”
Even from halfway down the corridor, George could hear and appreciate the chaos he and Fred had created. Exchanging a silent high-five, the twins pressed their ears to the tapestry behind which they were hidden, snickering at the sounds of pandemonium. Suddenly, George felt himself falling forward as the tapestry was ripped back by none other than his brother, Percy.
“Fred! George! What in Merlin’s name do you think you’re doing, setting off Dungbombs? Three weeks at school and you’re already delinquents “”
“Bugger off, Perce, you sound like Mum,” Fred scoffed. “Filch won’t catch us. We planned it perfectly. We’re going to take this secret passage “”
“Oh, it’s hardly a secret! Most students above third year know about it, it’s a shortcut to the library. And as a matter of fact, Filch will be catching you.”
“No he “”
“Mr. Filch! I’ve found them!”
At that moment Mrs. Norris poked her scruffy head into the passageway, red eyes gleaming triumphantly. Filch came wheezing just behind her.
“Aha! I’ve always hated nasty little twins,” grumbled the caretaker as Fred and George exchanged crestfallen looks. As one, they looked up to glare at their brother, who had his nose stuck up in the air.
“Thanks a lot,” George hissed as Filch led them off towards his office.
“You two need to learn your lesson, once and for all. Hogwarts is no place for pranks,” Percy called after them. “A detention with Filch should straighten you right out.”
Fred and George exchanged another look.
“I think I know what to do with all that extra frog spawn we’ve got,” George whispered as they ascended a moving staircase.
“His bed or his schoolbag?” Fred asked, smirking.
“Oh, his bed,” George replied, matching his twin’s evil grin. “Definitely his bed.”
Their smiles faded, however, once they entered Filch’s dim, dank office. Filing cabinets lined one wall; the other three were taken up with various tools of torture, from simple iron chains to contraptions that would not have looked out of place in a medieval dungeon.
“Brats, the whole lot of them, with their smelly bombs and their wicked jinxes…” Filch mumbled to himself as he pulled a piece of parchment from one of the cabinets and spread it out on his cluttered desk. “Don’t you move, you little whelps,” he growled at the twins, who were standing uncertainly in the doorway. “It’s a week of detentions for you. Or perhaps,” Filch looked fondly at the instruments of torture on the walls, “we might find something that leaves a more lasting impression.” Cheered by this prospect, Filch bent over his parchment and began to scribble furiously.
“Look.” Fred nudged George in the ribs, jerking his chin in the direction of one of the most decrepit-looking filing cabinets. For a moment George didn’t know what his twin was pointing out, but then he spied the label of the bottommost drawer and his eyes lit up.
“‘Confiscated and Highly Dangerous,’” George read in a whisper.
“You distract, I’ll investigate,” Fred murmured. George grinned, plunged a hand into the pocket of his robes, and touched the tip of his wand to the last Dungbomb in his arsenal.
BANG!
The room became an odoriferous haze, and George felt Fred brush by his side as he went for the filing cabinet. Despite Filch’s raucous yells, he heard the lock on the drawer click when, in mere seconds, Fred pried it open using a safety pin. And then, all of sudden, he was being dragged back into the breathable air of the corridor. George just had time to register that there was a piece of yellowish parchment in Fred’s hand before he was running for his life.
“GET BACK HERE!” cried Filch, puffing after them. Desperately the twins turned corner after corner until they reached a dead end.
“What now?” Fred panted. George, however, was not looking at him, but at the parchment in Fred’s hands.
“Look at this!” George tore the parchment from his twin’s grip, watching in awe as thin green letters flowed across it, as though written by an invisible hand:
If you want to get away, try the portrait on your left.
George didn’t waste any time. The moment his wand touched the picture of an old, snoring warlock in a Muggle-ish top hat, the canvas melted away to reveal a gloomy, cobwebbed archway, which faded into darkness.
“After you,” said Fred. George lit his wand and led the way into the cavernous passage. He heard Fred’s footsteps behind him, and beyond that, the sound of Filch’s approaching shouts. Then, with a combination of relief and renewed anxiety, he heard a thump as the portrait returned to its usual solid form. The only way to walk was forward.
“Think this leads anywhere good?” Fred asked, his voice echoing against the stone walls.
“I’ll bet it goes to the dungeons. I don’t know what else could be down this far.”
“Well, we’re about to find out. There’s light ahead.” Cautiously, George approached the door at the end of the tunnel, behind which lay the source of the light, and pushed it open.
“Where are we?”
The twins clambered out, blinking for a moment before turning to stare curiously at a large assemblage of house-elves.
“Welcome, sirs!” cried one of the elves, stepping forward with a bow. “Is you wanting anything to eat? Some pies or cakes, perhaps, or a cup of tea? You just says the word, sirs, and we is fetching it!”
“I think we’re in the kitchens,” said George. Then he caught sight of the parchment again.
“We thought you might be a bit hungry after all that running,” Fred read, turning to his twin. “How could it have known?”
“You know what Dad would say about this,” George said, frowning. “Don’t trust anything if you can’t see where it keeps its brain.”
“That takes all the fun out of life,” argued Fred, accepting a square of fudge from one of the many platters now being proffered by the eager house-elves. “The way I see it, this parchment has just saved our skins from Filch. I think it’s trustworthy, don’t you? At the very least, it’s worth investigating.”
“It would come in handy for pranks,” George agreed, taking the parchment from Fred, who was now attempting to consume an entire plum pudding. George unfolded the parchment until it was the size of a large pillowcase and examined its creased folds. It was perfectly blank, except for the stains left by age.
“How does this work?” George muttered, pulling out his wand. Hesitantly, he tapped the parchment, and to his delighted surprise, words blossomed across the page:
So, you’ve decided to give The Marauders your trust. You have yet, however, to win ours.
It’s true, you’ve passed the first test, but don’t let it go to your heads.
There are two more trials, and if you’re not up to snuff this map won’t ever work for you, so don’t bother keeping it.
Good luck, and happy marauding!
George stared at the four lines, written in four different hands.
“A map, huh,” he said. “Merlin’s pants.”
“Whazzit?” asked Fred, his mouth full of pastry.
“Fred, my twin of twins,” said George, showing his brother the words on the parchment, “we’ve got ourselves a magical map.”
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.