Weasley Twins Cruciatus Candy Crystals Adventure, Add to this thread here Options

[McGonagall's Cat]

The Weasley Twins Cruciatus Candy Crystals Adventure

The Weasley twins are in their prime at Hogwarts! They are planning and plotting to get their joke shop going, inventing amazing things, and generally getting into mischief.

Since they have given Harry the Marauder’s Map, but are still up to their tricks, have they invented their own version, even a better something that perhaps might tell the emotions or intentions of the entities wandering about in the area?

Somewhere in this story they discover the source of the tunnels or how the tunnels are created. And we become aware of a secret tunnel where Fred & George are storing all of their supplies (or some other plausible reason that we never hear about explosions coming from their dormitory, or other “failed” inventions and the like).

Think up all of the ridiculous things they could invent, and do. See what kind of trouble we can get them into and rescued from.

[McGonagall's Cat]

McGonagall marched into the Gryffindor Common Room with a look on her face that could freeze lava.

“Misters Weasley!” she stated with such vehemence that Harry, Ron, Hermione and most of the other students ducked behind their books in futile attempts at being invisible. Ron looked so panicky that Harry thought he might pass out on the spot.

“Misters Weasley!” she almost shouted.

Fred and George peered out innocently from the corner where they were acting quite studious.

“Come with me this moment!” McGonagall ordered.

Ron let out an audible sigh as Fred and George followed her from the room.

“What was that all about?!” he said with a voice so shaky that it was almost unintelligible.

[McGonagall's Cat]

Moments later McGonagall stood, arms crossed, tapping a toe impatiently. She cleared her throat meaningfully.

“Well, you have to admit it is an improvement.” Fred said so quietly that only George and McGonagall heard. George almost broke into a smile.

The three stood on the stone steps in the entryway to the Slytherin’s Common Room. The room was entirely empty except for one occupied chair. Professor Snape sat facing them in a large Victorian (or perhaps Spanish Inquisition style) chair that resembled a throne. Carved wooden gargoyles on each top corner occasionally flexed their wings as he glowered at the twins. Great wooden serpents curled around the vertical pieces of it, flicking their tongues longingly as their red eyes focused on Fred and George.

Snape launched himself to a standing position. “I suppose you think this is funny!” He growled in a voice like liquid sewage. Then through gritted teeth he continued, “I find it so amusing that you will spend a considerable amount of time with me for the next few weeks... thinking about it.”

Snape’s hair was perfectly groomed, clean and shiny, trimmed into a style that would give a movie star a run for his money. His teeth sparkled white and even. He was enveloped in a fat cream-coloured wool fisherman’s sweater, tan Dockers, and brown loafers. George and Fred looked at each other bemused, though trying to hide it from the teachers.

“Remove the curse boys.” McGonagall urged.

[McGonagall's Cat]

George looked over at Fred.

"I have a bad feeling about this one..." he grimaced.

The scene began to disolve, melting away to reveal a small cave-like room lined with "aquired" furniture and interesting items. Fred was sprawled in a fat sqooshy chair with his feet up on a crate of dungbombs staring intently at his brother.

"OK, you come up with a better plan!" he challenged.

[Imperia]

(I don't know if I'm allowed to do this, but I am hoping it will be okay to assume that perhaps Lupin is working at Hogwarts as DADA professor during this fic...either meaning they are in their fifth year or Lupin has returned...)

George grinned and sat back as he began to detail his own plan to his twin brother...

"OH MY FREAKING MERLIN!"

A hysterical male voice ripped through the halls of Hogwarts as students languidly entered the Great Hall for breakfast. As the voice echoed off of the ancient walls of the castle, students and staff froze.

A tall, pale man with a long nose and stormy black eyes barged into the hall. He would have looked quite menacing, down-right evil even, if his long hair hadn't been a shocking shade of hot pink.

George's happy description was interrupted by his irritated brother.

"Wait a minute, wait a minute," Fred said, raising his hands and shaking his head, "you want to turn his hair pink? Yeah, that's truly original, George. C'mon, I bet the Marauders did things like that all the time to him."

"Well, what else is there?" George, having been sprawled on an ancient purple overstuffed couch, stood up and began to pace in the small cave. "I'm tired of pulling mindless jokes and doing stereotypical pranks on our regular victims, like Snape."

Fred suddenly sat up in his seat, struck by a chord of inspiration. "George, that's it! We're not going to pull a mindless joke on our fellow students or prank Snape! We're going to do something entirely different!" Fred's blue eyes sparkled mischievously, reminding George briefly of their headmaster, Albus Dumbledore.

"What? C'mon, mate, spit it out," George begged his brother.

Fred grinned. "We are going to show our gratitude to the original marauder still at this school. We are going to thank him for their prank-filled history that's been passed on and more importantly, the wondeful Marauder's Map. We're going to thank him in the one way that he'll really appreciate..."

George's face lit up as well. "We," George said, understanding dawning in his own twinkling blue eyes, "are going to pull a prank...on Professor Lupin!"

"In the name of the original Marauders, Moony, Padfoot, Wormtail, and Prongs," Fred said, placing a hand on his chest. "This, brother, is going to be brilliant!"

"Now, to find out exactly what we're going to do..." George replied, flopping back down on the couch.

[McGonagall's Cat]

George paused a moment, “You know, even by our standards, we are going to HAVE to do this exceptionally well.”

“Yeah. If it wasn’t for his “help"...” Fred’s voice trailed off a bit. “You’re right. This will have to be so well crafted that no one else but Lupin will truly understand it.… We don’t dare blow his cover. Not after all he’s done for us. If it wasn’t for him…”

“The guy is bloody brilliant!” his brother said supportively. “Too bad we won’t get the chance to pull a joke on Prongs, he would have appreciated it almost as much as…” a cloud passed across his face. “ Ya know, I really can’t believe Padfoot could… I mean thirteen muggles! Even a Black couldn’t go that wrong. Such a brilliant mind, so sad…”

The conversation hung in the air, thick and cold and soggy. Their exuberant mood floundered. Both boys thoughts drifted, in a tandem twin-connection, to their first awareness of the Marauders...

An eleven-year-old Fred crouched behind the statue of Gregory the Smarmy, watching intently as a small mouse washed its nose and ears not very far from him. It then scampered through what he’d assumed was a solid wall. George stood still as stone across the hallway behind a long velvet drape. Having gotten caught and given Detention for being out of the Gryffindor tower after ten pm the second day they were at Hogwarts, Fred and George were again on a mission to explore the school. This time more cautiously. All had been going well until Peeves had come cackling along, bouncing off the ceilings and knocking over vases or whatever else caught his fancy. The twins dived into their hiding places just in time to avoid his notice.

Once all was again quiet, Fred let out the faint whistle that was their “all clear” signal, then motioned excitedly to George as he followed the little mouse. Soon both boys found themselves inside a very dark passage. Though they were barely into the first week of their first year each drew their wand and chanted “Lumos”, grinning excitedly, glad they had “borrowed” Bill’s school books when they were nine. The mouse squeaked in terror and ran. They followed.

Before too long the smell of fresh-cut grass and the damp musty smell from the lake wafted toward them. The boys grinned at each other yet again. Soon the tunnel opened onto the lawn behind some bushes near the greenhouses. Extinguishing their wands they stepped out into the moonlight.

“OK! Turn around and study this well, oh brother mine, that we might find it at our leisure.” George said with a wink.

“Most surely, brother mine!” Fred responded in mock pomposity. After a moment of pondering he muttered, “This CAN’T be the only one.”

The two wandered about outside the castle for several hours.

“Hey, George. I’m getting tired. Let’s go back.”

“Yeah. We can explore some more tomorrow night” George agreed.

As they started back into the tunnel they noticed some healed over scratches on the wall a couple meters after the first turn in the passageway. Fred spit on his hand and rubbed the scratches to uncover:

Some go this way, some go that.
Smarmy tree and humpity
Here shack sweet and back
Professor Egg will tell.
72rjsp

“What do you think it means, Fred?”

“Well, I’m pretty sure Shakespeare didn’t have anything to do with it.” He answered wryly. “'Can count John Dunne out, too. Let’s get some sleep. I’m too tired to think about it. Besides, none of the Professors here are named Egg that I know of, though a few do seem to be cracked!” he sniggered, walking away.

Weeks later while cleaning the library bookshelves (without magic… for their fifth Detention in September) George spied a small dusty book behind some very large books that menaced anyone walking past the shelf. He managed to retrieve it by holding a huge atlas as a shield so that the shelved books merely banged into the atlas and bruised his chest. The smaller book turned out to not be very small once he pulled it from its long-term resting place. A centimeter of dust so coated its bindings as to make them entirely unreadable, but where George’s hand had dislodged a bit, it said “by Professor Mordicus Egg”. He quickly stuffed it into a pocket in his robe, whistling gaily for the remainder of Detention that day.

Late that night, in the secret passage the little mouse had revealed to them, Fred and George eagerly explored the book.
The Philosophy of the Mundane: Why Muggles Prefer Not to Know.
A folded piece of parchment fluttered to the floor from somewhere near the book’s middle. Hand-drawn, a little better than Fred or George could do but still obviously drawn by a student, was a map. Turning it ninety degrees at a time, eventually they figured out that it was a map of, not only the tunnel they were standing in, but also several others in close proximity!

“Oh My Merry Merlin! Brother mine, we have been blessed with amazing luck!” Fred giggled, dancing with glee. “Whoever “r for j” might be, we owe him…”

“Or her!” George interjected.

“Yes. Or her. Big time!”


George came back to the present. He smiled at Fred. “He really did give us the key to our greatness.”

“That first map was what got us to the better one. Remember when we finally figured out how to get past the Willow?” he smiled as though remembering winning their first Quidditch match.


suggested next step:
get deeper into how Moony left clues for his mates - that F&G follow to explore the tunnels. Eventually (many more pages into this) figuring out the connection between Moony and Lupin, aquiring the Marauders Map from Filtch's file cabinet, Moony somehow letting them know how to make it work, and so forth. We can come back to the prank once we understand that F&G would NEVER betray what they know of Lupin or anyone/anything else.

[Imperia]

(Okay, long-awaited new post...!)

"The riddle in the passageway is so obvious now," George said chuckling. "But we're not thick. Didn't take us too long to figure out..."

They had traveled through the passageway back to the turn at which they had encountered the strange inscription in the stone. Fred had frowned and read it outloud again:

"Some go this way, some go that
Smarmy tree and humpity
Here shack sweet and back
Professor Egg will tell
72rjsp"

"It's a trail of clues," George pointed out happily, holding up the map they had just found in The Philosophy of the Mundane: Why Muggles Prefer Not to Know. "The fourth line is obvious then. The first line..."

"Is talking about which way to go in the tunnels," Fred interrupted excitedly. "Duh! And the second line...something about a tree? George, look at the map."

George unfolded the slightly aging piece of parchment in front of his wand light. The depiction of the tunnels twisted here and there, and they noticed a tiny note at one of the bends in a passageway.

"It says '72rjsp'..." Fred murmured. "It's pointing out where we are." His finger trailed down the passage to the right, and stopped at what looked like a black blob blocking the tunnel. It was labeled 'a whomper'.

Fred and George looked up at each other, realization dawning in their identical blue eyes. "The Whomping Willow!" they said together.

This post has been edited by Imperia: Jan 7 2004, 02:30 AM

[Imperia]

(That was incredibly short and meager of me, so I'll happily add more... )

Although it had already been quite late in the evening, the two had excitedly ran down the tunnel, greatly anticipating finding the new clue. Arriving at Hogwarts as first years had been loads of adventure in itself, but nothing that Bill, Charlie, nor Percy had ever said about Hogwarts seemed like it would turn out to be this much fun.

"Imagine if Percy had found these clues," George suddenly said, interrupting their thoughts back on their memorable 'treasure hunt'. He had a sour look on his face.

"If Percy had seen that mouse disappear into the wall, he would have alerted the staff at once," Fred replied. "He would have never even found the first clue. And if he did, he's too thick to find something like a riddle fascinating."

"Anyway..." George said, as they drifted back to their first year...

"It must be just up ahead," eleven-year-old Fred panted. They had been running for quite some time, and although both their wands were lit, it was quite dark in the tunnel. Which is why the didn't see it coming.

Sharp, agonizing pain ripped through George's shoulder and he was flat on his back in two seconds. Beside him, he heard his brother grunt and a sickening thud sounded in the narrow passage as his body landed next to George's.

"What the..." George muttered as he attempted to sit up. He had been able to keep a hold of his wand ulike Fred, who had flung it behind him when he had been knocked over.

"Something...something hit me..." Fred muttered. George brightened the wand light as much as he could, and his gasp was clearly audible when he realized what was going on.

"We're right below the Whomping Willow," he gasped, shoving himself backwards and trying to pull his brother along with him. "The roots...they're just as volatile as the branches!"

The reality of the situation finally hit Fred and he sat up and followed his brother's example of escape. The two shakily got to their feet when they felt they were safely at a distance.

"Thanks for the warning, r for j," George muttered, glaring down at the map. "What did the rest of that riddle say, Fred?"

"Er...smarmy tree and...humpity?" Fred replied.

George moaned. "Humpity? What does that mean?" He was about to mumble some profanities and maybe a few curses when Fred grabbed his arm. "Ouch! Watch it, I'm bruised all over now!"

"There's another inscription here, on this stone," Fred said, pointing to a few old scratchings on the right side of the tunnel. He wiped it as best as he could. "Can you read it?"

George, still rubbing his aching arm, leaned forward and read out loud the new riddle...

"That willow could have seriously injured us down there," Geroge piped up.

"You have a knack for interrupting memories at the best parts," Fred said irritably.

"Well, think about it, we could have been unable to physically move and, no one knowing where we were, we could have died down there!" George pointed out.

Fred grinned. "Imagine the look on Mum's face if she knew..."

George shuddered. "I don't want to think about that sort of nightmare. Anyway, that riddle really was quite clever, wasn't it?"

Fred nodded. "Not Shakespearean, but clever all the same."

Suggested Next step:
Continue in this vein, following the twins as they follow the clues that lead to the Marauder's Map and how the Twins manage to swipe the precious parchment from Filch's office. Is it luck, or do the clues point them in the direction?

[McGonagall's Cat]

"Out on the green, knot your best pick
seek safety with Staff Lance Branch
r for s"

"Was there a Professor Branch?" Fred seemed to be thinking out loud. "Someone, on Staff, named Branch? Hmm... Branch, Lance Branch... ummm.... Lance Branch... Lass Branch, Lanch Brass... Branch Latch... BRASS LATCH!!" He jumped up to grab George, but instead let out a yelp as his own damaged body parts protested in pain. "That's IT! There must be a brass latch around here somewhere that will let us pass!"

George, still rubbing his shoulder which had already swollen quite a bit, looked a bit perturbed. "A brass latch..." he said sarcastically. "You're starkin' nutters!"

"Ok, you figure it out then" Fred retorted, casually holding his hand out saying, "accio wand" then "Lumos".

After a moment or two of thought George said, "You know, some trees have roots that spread out in a big circle instead of going down deep into the ground. I bet the Whomping Willow has the big around kind. And..." he paused contemplating calulations of sorts in his head, "I bet we are in a tunnel that is on one side of the Whomping Willow's root circle. I bet this other tunnel," he said pointing to the Egg map, "is just on the other side."

"And that gets us past these roots how?" Fred responded, still stinging about his inspiration having been dismissed.

George ignored his brother's sharp words and began trying what spells he knew on the roots. Soon Fred joined in. Before long their ruffled feathers had settled as they tried each of their limited repertoire of spells in attempts to clear the passageway, to no avail.

"Mate, I'm startin' to hurt somethin' awful" Fred said after a bit. "I think we should go have a chat with Madam Pomfrey and give this some more thought in a day or two."

"I didn't want to say enna-thing 'cause you seemed to be alright , but you do have a point. My shoulder and arm feel like I mighta broke a bone." George admitted. "Before we come back we need to hit the library, see if we can look up wizards named Branch. Or some spell that cuts these bloody roots off before we get killed."

Fred nodded. They started back toward the main part of the castle, plotting a story of falling from a broom and a bludger that got the better of them for Madam Pomfrey's benefit.

[Imperia]

"We're going to so get caught," a voice whimpered in the dark, "and it will be our third detention this week!"

"Shut it, George!" George's brother hissed, and nudged him in the ribs. "Are you not at all willing to take a risk to figure out what this new riddle means?"

"We're lucky Madame Pomfrey fell for our cover story," George replied. "What is she going to say when we come in at one in the morning with the same sort of injuries? We were practicing Quiddtich in the middle of the night?"

"Ssh, we're coming up on Hagrid's cabin," Fred snapped, and the two of them crouched down and, as quietly as they could, snuck past the groundskeeper's hut.

Finally, after what seemed like forever to George, they came upon (at a safe distance, mind you) the ferocious Whomping Willow.

"Blast, you annoying weed, you moldy lump of fungus, you..."

"Fred, shut it! You're going to insult it, and then we'll be in for it," George whispered frantically.

"Right," Fred said, shaking his head and focusing once again at the task at hand. "The riddle, it said something about knots...out on the green, knot your best pick..."

"These above-ground roots are filled with knots," George said in a dismayed tone of voice. "And if we go anywhere near them, we'll be mauled to death! Again!"

"What was that other bit of the riddle? About the lance?" Fred asked. They had searched up and down and sideways and backwards and every which direction of the library for anything on 'Staff Lance' or 'Staff Lance Branch', but hadn't been able to find anything.

"Seek safety with Staff Lance Branch, r for s," George replied slowly. "Staff Lance, branch, staff lance branch, staff branch, branch...I don't get it."

"A branch," Fred said, looking around. "I've got one!" Walking a few feet closer to the tree, he grabbed a large, thick branch that had broken off of the tree.

"Now what?" George said. "So you have a branch...there's nothing special about a large stick."

Fred scowled and turned to the Whomping Willow. "What do we do about a knot? Bloody hell...if there's an inscription in there, we'll never be able to read it."

"R for S," George said suddenly. "What does that me..." Suddenly, his mouth dropped open.

"What? What is it?"

"Didn't you see that?" George said, moving dangerously close to the willow's violently swaying branches. "I saw something glowing there for a second!"

"When?"

"When I said R for S...there it is again! Did you see it?" George yelled excitedly, gesturing to an area near the trunk of the massive willow.

"Merlin, this clue-maker must have enchanted a knot in the tree..." Fred said, equally excited. "R for S...R for S..."

"It's that one, there," George said, moving still closer to the Whomping Willow, which was truly having a mad time whomping at this point. The thuds of the branches hitting the ground and other trees echoed loudly in their ears. George ignored this and pointed the beam of his lit wand at a knot on a root just inside the vicinity of the dangerous tree.

"Now what?" Fred moaned.

"I don't know," George replied. "Hey, try using the branch. Hit at it or something."

"Why?"

"I don't know. I have a gut feeling, an intuition," George replied.

Fred rolled his eyes. "Your 'gut feelings' got us in trouble with Snape the night before last, when we were exploring the dungeons and took your intuitive turn toward his evil chambers, where he just happened to be standing."

"Hand it over, then, coward!" George snapped, snatching the large branch from Fred's hands. "And you call yourself a Gryfindor..."

"Hey!" Fred's cry of indignation suddenly interrupted their trip down memory lane. He sat up from where he had been relaxing in his seat to give George a look. "You're the one who had been whining about being out there in the first place.

George chuckled. "Me taking that branch was brilliance. Imagine if I hadn't? We would never have hit that knot..."

Thinking back to their first year at the school, George could distinctly remember the look of horror on Fred's face as George jumped even closer to the tree and thrust the branch at the knot.

"You'll get yourself killed!" Fred shrieked, rushing forward to pull his brother back, but it was no longer necessary. He halted when he realized that an eerie silence had filled the cold night air. The Whomping Willow had frozen; it was no longer whomping.

George turned and grinned at his eleven-year-old twin. "Look at that," he said gesturing to the trunk, where a hole big enough for a grown man gaped at them. "I think we've solved our third clue!"

[ronsmyman]

(My promised submission)

Fred heaved a sigh so great that it about knocked his brother over.

“I thought you were done for!”

“Not with my incredible intelligence guiding the way. C’mon, lets go before this bloody tree unfreezes and we have to explain to Madame Pomfrey why we have tree branches implanted in our rears.” George grabbed Fred’s arm and pulled him into the gaping hole in the tree.

The drop wasn’t deep but even so the twins landed in a heap on the dirt floor of a narrow tunnel that wound off into the distance.

“Aw man, that I think was our most glorious moment,” George sighed, gazing back into that moment in the past.

“What about the time we accidentally blew up Charlie’s pet lizard when we stuffed a few dung bombs down its throat?” Fred asked. “Nah, discovering the tunnel to the shrieking shack was much better.”

“Yah, that was a great moment...”

The twins disentangled themselves from each other’s limbs and stumbled to their feet, knocking their heads against the low ceiling in the process. The stars in front of their eyes impaired their vision for a moment, but as soon as it cleared they began to walk, crouching, down the tunnel. As they walked, they began to hear noises. These noises, at first indistinguishable, began to grow louder as they progressed down the hallway.

“It sounds like city noises,” George commented.

“I think this tunnel leads to Hogsmead!” Fred exclaimed, quickening his pace. “Fresh Butterbeer, Zonko’s whenever we want! We owe these riddlers our happiness and joy.”

“If only we knew who they were,” George sighed.

“Something tells me that there will be another clue at the end of this tunnel,” Fred said, still pressing forward at a heightened pace.

Suddenly Fred crashed into a solid barrier of some sort and collapsed on the ground. George hurried to help his twin up, shifting the beam from his wand up to the barrier in front of them as he offered Fred a hand up. The small circle of light revealed a thick wooden door, that Fred and George quickly began to unlock. Not knowing the proper spell, they whipped out their handy hairpins and had the door opened in no time.

As they stepped through the doors, they immediately encountered a flight of stairs. They mounted this stairwell, and emerged into a wooden building.

“Whoa,” Fred said, surveying their new surroundings, in the dim light coming from their wand tips.

“What happened here?” George asked.

The building was absolutely trashed, furniture with what looked like bite marks was strewn across the floor, pieces of various objects littered the empty spaces unoccupied by the broken furniture.

“I think I realize where we are,” Fred said, the little hairs on the back of his neck rising.

“The Shrieking Shack,” George said, with twin-like accuracy.

As Fred nodded the door behind them, at the bottom of the stairwell slammed closed, and they heard a set of footsteps mounting the stairs, moving towards them.

“Fred, ghosts don’t make footsteps, do they?”

George shook his head, and turned around to face the door, goose pimples rippling across his flesh. Fred followed his example, and together they backed up as someone advanced up the steps toward them.

They heard the stranger complete the stairwell, but the sphere of their wand light didn’t allow them to see the mysterious person until he was within three feet of them. When he finally entered the sphere of light, the twins gasped and stumbled back. The man was thin and haggard, with a beard down to his chest and scraggly hair twice as long, he looked as if he hadn’t bathed in weeks, though they couldn’t smell any stench on him, except wet dirt.

“What are you doing here?” the stranger asked, stepping forward aggressively. “No one is supposed to know about this place.”

The twins looked at each other as if to say, “I’m not talking to the homeless man, you talk to the homeless man.” After a swift silent argument, Fred stepped forward and addressed the ragged man.

“We were led here, 72rjsp told us how to get here,” he said, knowing that this man probably wouldn’t buy a couple of numbers and a jumble of letters as a name. However the stranger seemed calmed and a smile flickered across his tired and drawn face.

“So you found the Marauder’s clues,” the man said, a nostalgic air beginning to surround him.

“Huh?” the twins said in unison.

“Sorry, I’m Remus Lupin, I was a Marauder,” the stranger said, offering his hand to the two boys.

Plot suggestions: (Remus is here because he’s jobless and needed a place to stay while he looks for another job, so far no luck. In return for food, Lupin tells the Twins stories about the marauders, and about the marauders’ map.)

[McGonagall's Cat]

The boys warily eyed the gentle-seeming though shabbily dressed man. In the Wizarding World they had come across many unusual beings, but there was no guarantee that anyone, or anything, was as it seemed. Frequently, in fact, the case was just the opposite. Both were thinking of the time they brought home what they thought was a Snidget, but which turned out to be an annoying imp who’d been bewitched to resemble the bird. It took his parents some effort to expel the imp from the house (where it wreaked quite a bit of havoc), not to mention the scolding the boys got about protected status of certain magical creatures and the dire penalties for bothering such creatures.

Feeling as though this situation called for bravado they took turns shaking his hand.

“What’s a Marauder?” they finally asked in unison, though with a touch of trepidation.

“So you haven’t figured that out yet,” he grinned. The smile erased what seemed to be years of care and neglect from his face. “I’ll tell you, if you agree to help me out.”

“That’s not the wisest thing to agree to without knowing more,” George proffered, looking him squarely in the eye.

The disheveled man grinned even wider. He pulled a wand from his patched robe, causing the boys to draw away from him. “Would you like to sit and chat a bit?” he said as he conjured three comfy chairs. Fred and George didn’t sit. They knew enough of spells to wonder if the chairs might bind them or entrap them in some other manner. “It’s alright, but if you’re concerned, sit wherever you please.” the man said as he sat down in the chair that faced the other two chairs. The boys dusted a patch of floor and sat down, all the while watching the stranger.

“You’re what, about twelve?” the man who’d said his name was Lupin asked.

“Eleven,” Fred said a bit too defensively.

“FIRST years! I am TRULY impressed. It’s been as long a time as you are old since anyone other than those who knew about this place when I went to Hogwarts has been here.” Lupin said wistfully. “You must be clever boys to have figured out this much of it, in what, the first couple weeks of school.” He nodded automatically, his appreciation showing. “I doubt even one other has found any of the tunnels in these last eleven years.”

“Yeah, we found the one behind Gregory the Smarmy first, when we were hiding from Peeves,” George said being drawn in by the man’s gentle manner.

The man chuckled. “How is old Peeves these days?”

Soon all were comfortably conversing, and the boys moved up to sit in Remus’ chairs

[ronsmyman]

Once Remus began he couldn’t stop. He hadn’t had anyone listen to him in so long. The boys sat on the edge of the comfortable red squishy arm chairs, hanging on to every word that departed his lips. They heard all about the four boys who had made up the Marauders. They watched Remus’s face light up as he described all of their intrigues, laying the underground maze of tunnels out for them with sparks from his wand.

“What happened to all of the other Marauders?” Fred asked. He immediately regretted having asked. Remus’s face fell and his entire appearance seemed to sag as well.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up painful memories,” Fred quickly added.

Remus shook his head and put his hands in his tangled mane, hanging his head. The boys saw a single tear drip down the bridge of his nose and splatter on the floor. Fred and George, not having lost their childhood sensitivity yet, were immediately at his side, patting him on the shoulder.

“It’s alright mate, let it all out,” George said in his attempt at a comforting tone.

“Sorry,” Remus said gruffly. “It’s been nine years, you’d think I’d be able to control my emotions by now.”

The twins remained silent, knowing that Remus would speak in his own time. They were right, after a few minutes of silence he raised his head and looked at the boys, a wavering smile played across his taut face.

“The Marauders are now eternally separated from one another,” he said softly. “You have probably heard their stories. The other marauders were quite famous. James Potter you’ve heard of, of course.”

“James Potter was a Marauder?!” The Twins exclaimed together.

“Yes, as were Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew,” Remus said, almost inaudibly.

The twins sat down on the dusty floor sending up puffs of dust.

“Sirius Black,” they said, disappointment dripping from their voices. “But, but. he couldn’t have been a marauder, he murdered 12 muggles and laughed.”

“I myself still have trouble believing it of him, he was the best of friends, but Voldemort can be very cunning.”

The twins gasped and covered their ears at the sound of the hateful name.

“Sorry,” Remus’s eyes took on a wistful gleam. “We had the best time as the marauders. Sometimes I just wish I could a hold of a time turner. I could go back and stop Sirius from turning.”

“There’s nothing you could have done,” George said. They felt that this visit was drawing to a close. “We’ll leave you alone now. Sorry to have brought up so many painful memories.”

“It’s okay. You probably should get back to school. I’ve been talking your ears off for the last three hours. You’ll be dead for your classes tomorrow.”

“It’s been three hours!” George exclaimed in disbelief. “We really do need to get going. Can we come see you again? We’ll bring you some food.”

Remus’s eyes brightened a little at the prospect of Hogwarts’ food.

“If you go down to the kitchens, the house elves should give you enough food for an army. Don’t come the rest of this week, though. Next Thursday should be good.”

“You’ll have plenty of stories to tell us, right?”

Remus smiled, though his eyes were still sad, and waved the boys away. They ran down the stairs and back into the dark dirt tunnel.

[McGonagall's Cat]

Traveling through the dim tunnel the two tried to digest the information Lupin had just shared with them. Neither boy spoke for most of the walk back.

"Thursday! Why do we have to wait until Thursday? I don't even want to go back to school tonight. This guy knows so much!" Fred muttered finally as they were almost to the Willow.

"Yeah, but he must have his reasons. Maybe he has to go somewhere. ... It looks to me like he'd be the better for it if he spent some time in Madam Pomfrey's care. Old Scabbers looks better than he does! ... That must be it! Maybe he's got a Medi-Wizard in London or somewhere he needs to go see." George decided somewhat hopefully.

"Well... he doesn't look too good at all, you're right," Fred said as they ducked out under the branches and headed toward the castle. "Was it great or what that he told us about tickling the pear to get into the kitchens. We've got it made now thanks to that little tidbit!"

Grinning from ear to ear at their good fortune Fred and George slipped into the castle. They dashed up the stairways as quietly and quickly as they could. Standing before the Fat Lady, Fred chanted, "Mandragora."

Nothing happened.

He said it a second time just a bit louder, "Mandragora".

The Fat Lady looked at him appologetically and shook her head.

George tried, "Mandragora."

She still shook her head. "That was the old password, boys. They gave a new one out earlier this evening. Can't let you pass without the correct passwprd."

[McGonagall's Cat]

The boys looked at each other with a "now what" exasperation. Then slowly Fred's left eyebrow raised slightly as a grin spread across his face, he nodded down the hallway and George followed. Out of earshot of all the portraits he whispered, "Once you're over the edge of the cliff it doesn't much matter if the fall is 200 meters or a thousand, does it?"

"Right-o, brother. The percentages of a student coming by to help us get in is... fairly minimal." George nodded in agreement, though he wasn't exactly certain where his brother was going with this line of thought.

"Detention for being outside of our tower after curfew is probably about the same as for being, say... down in the kitchens!" He grinned.

"Yes, yes, " George rubbed his chin in mock seriousness, "Out of dorm is out of dorm... and a nice warm kitchen is a definite improvement over this..." he swept his arm in an inclusive gesture of the cold dark stone passageway, landing on Fred's back with a solid "Atta boy" pat.

The two raced off quietly, down to the lower hallway with the fruit bowl portrait.

"You do the honours, brother dear!" Fred said bowing cavalierly.

George reached up and tickled the pear. The huge picture swung out of their way, in the boys' eyes, like the veritable gates of heaven. A swoosh of comforting residual aromas rolled over them. They faced each other for a moment, grinning, and stepped through the hole in the wall. The kitchen was amazingly quiet, most of the elves having gone to bed so they would be perky for the next morning's breakfast rush. It wasn't entirely deserted, however. Two house-elves scurried over to the boys.

"Young sirs, why do you be here after so much bedtime?" the one wearing a plaid pillowcase asked. He had large pointy ears, like a German Sheppard's, but without hair, and a squashed nose that very much resembled the noses of the pigs back at the Burrow.

Beside him stood a much smaller house-elf who seemed to be female and elderly. She was stooped over, and wore a rubber ducky shower curtain cut down to size, with bracelets made from the curtain rings. Her huge eyes squinted at the boys, exaggerating the abundance of wrinkles in her face.

“We, uh, we missed dinner and were wond…” Fred started to explain, but before he could finish the smaller of the two grabbed his hand and began leading him to a little square table at the side of the room.

“Come this way, come this way. Will fix. Come this way, come this way..” she muttered.

Soon both boys were eating a feast, undoubtedly leftovers from dinner, but delicious nonetheless. There was cold roast chicken, biscuits with butter, six different vegetables, and a bowl of fresh fruits. Just about the time both of them thought they might explode, the elves brought chocolate cake and some raspberry treacle. All they could do was look at each other and smile.

The house-elves began loading a sack with food for the Twins. The boys shuffled their feet as though embarrassed, but took the sack anyway.

“You wouldn’t know a way into the Gryffindor Common Room besides the Fat Lady's Portrait, would you?” George asked the house-elves.

“Most certainly, young sirs,” the taller one said. He handed them a pot of Floo Powder and pointed to the huge fireplace part-way down the wall of the kitchen.

The boys, shaking their heads in disbelief of their good fortune, profusely thanked the two house-elves. Taking turns standing in the fireplace each threw the gritty powder into the fire and chanted in turn “Gryffindor Common Room!”


Thanks to RonsMyMan for dressing the lady elf more appropriately!