The aftermath of the Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson was, in a word, legendary. The school was abuzz with whispers and theories, most of which pointed to one conclusion—someone had utterly terrorized Professor Quirrell with a sudden, unexplainable swarm of golden birds. And by Hogwarts logic, that someone had to be the Weasley twins.
"Fred and George, my office. Now!" Professor McGonagall's voice rang through the halls during lunch, her Scottish accent sharp as steel.
The Great Hall, which had been abuzz with chatter, quieted instantly. Fred and George, who had been minding their own business (for once), exchanged glances before sighing in unison.
"Well, dear brother, it was a good run," Fred said dramatically, pushing his plate forward.
"Indeed, we shall remember these days fondly," George agreed, adjusting his nonexistent tie as they both rose.
I smirked and stood up as well. "Professor, with all due respect, I think you've got the wrong culprits."
McGonagall's gaze shifted to me, one eyebrow arched in that formidable way that could make first-years burst into tears. "Is that so, Mr. Kingston? Do you happen to know who is responsible?"
"Not at all," I said smoothly. "But I do know the twins were here at breakfast the entire time before class. They couldn't have prepped the prank unless they somehow developed the ability to be in two places at once. And while that would be very impressive, I believe such magic is beyond even them."
it probably isn't.
Fred and George, sensing an unexpected ally, nodded enthusiastically. "Exactly!"
McGonagall pursed her lips. "Regardless, the matter requires investigation. Professor Dumbledore wishes to examine the wands of some people who may have been present in the classroom at the time. That includes you, Mr. Kingston."
I feigned a gasp. "Me? Surely not. I'm a beacon of academic integrity."
Hermione snorted into her pumpkin juice from behind me.
Soon enough, I was led along with the twins to Dumbledore's office. The aging headmaster greeted us with his usual knowing twinkle, hands clasped together in front of him. Professor Snape stood to the side, arms crossed, his expression a mixture of suspicion and boredom.
"Now, let's see," Dumbledore mused, gesturing toward the wands. "Priori Incantatem should suffice."
With a small flick, Dumbledore tapped each wand in turn. The twins' wands revealed an assortment of mischievous charms—one had a lingering Featherweight Charm, another displayed traces of a Tickling Hex, and both wands carried evidence of something called "Bubblegum Binding," which, according to Fred, was "a work in progress."
Snape's glare sharpened. "And why, exactly, would you need a spell that binds someone with bubblegum?"
George beamed. "You never know when you'll need to fasten something in place, Professor. Say, for example, a door that someone really, really wants to walk through."
Fred nodded solemnly. "Or prevent a rather unfortunate trousers mishap. Safety first."
"ooh, can you teach me that one?"
"Why of course we can Mr. Kingston" George replied.
McGonagall sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of her nose. "And the Tickling Hex?"
"Morale booster!" George declared. "Laughter is the best medicine."
"And the Featherweight Charm?" Snape drawled, unimpressed.
Fred smirked. "Ever tried sneaking a full cake out of the kitchens undetected? Because I promise, it's harder than it looks."
All the professors gave both twins a deadpan look.
Then Dumbledore tapped my wand.
A veritable fireworks show of tiny green and red sparks erupted from the tip, cascading down in a harmless display of light.
Snape's eyes narrowed. "And why, exactly, is your wand riddled with signaling spells?"
I shrugged, completely unfazed. "We were practicing distress signals in class. Red for danger, green for safety. You can ask any student."
Snape's eyes narrowed further. "And would you care to explain why your wand has over twenty instances of these spells recorded while the last seven spells seem to be only red sparks?"
I maintained my most innocent expression. "I am a very studious person, Professor. Practice makes perfect, after all. The last seven occured when all those birds were reeking havoc."
Dumbledore chuckled softly. "Indeed, a very responsible application of magic. Though, I must admit, I would have liked to see further into your past spells. Unfortunately, wands only retain a record of the last twenty-five or so before the older ones cycle out. Quite the convenient limit, wouldn't you say?"
I had a look of genuine surprise "huh, is that so?" I must have cast over 50 spark spells.
Who knew I only needed half of those.
McGonagall looked skeptical but sighed. "So if I get this straight, you are telling me that there is nothing in there that can prove Quirrell's distress? The man is already a breath away from death at this point. Something MUST be done, Dumbledore."
Dumbledore steepled his fingers, his expression thoughtful. "Minerva, I do not deny that Professor Quirrell appears... unwell. However, as there is no definitive magical nor physical evidence tying these young men to his current state, I am afraid our hands are tied."
Snape scoffed. "So we are to let this go unpunished?"
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as he regarded him. "Unless you have evidence, Severus? A confession, perhaps?"
The room fell into silence. The twins, wisely, said nothing. I, on the other hand, took the moment to dramatically dust off my robe as if clearing away unfounded accusations.
McGonagall exhaled sharply, giving the three of us a long, pointed look that said she wasn't convinced in the slightest. "Very well. But if I so much as hear a whisper of another incident involving flocks of creatures appearing in classrooms, we will be having a much longer discussion, all three of you. I swear, the majority of my grey hairs can be traced back to your collective efforts."
Fred gasped, looking positively scandalized. "Professor, that is a travesty!"
George nodded solemnly. "An absolute injustice."
I placed a hand over my chest, equally aghast. "Your grey hairs look absolutely stunning, Professor. Distinguished, even."
"Really brings out your authority," Fred chimed in.
"And your unwavering sense of justice," George added.
McGonagall let out a long, suffering sigh, rubbing her temples. "Out. Now. Before I change my mind."
As we exited the office, Fred and George flanked me, matching my stride.
"Mate," George said, voice full of admiration. "That was some next-level mischief evasion."
"You truly are one of us in spirit," Fred added, wiping an imaginary tear.
I grinned. "Gentlemen, I am an upstanding and honest gentleman. Also, I would never kiss and tell."
"Well, it seems we are going to be more careful from now on." said George.
"Agreed" chimed in Fred.
"Well, if you listened to McGonagall carefully, she only prohibited livestock related pranks right?" I chimed in.
The twins suddenly had reflective looks on their faces before they both simultaneously broke into grins.
Another day, another successful bit of chaos left in my wake.