"Fred, George, what are you two doing here?" Albert feigned surprise, spotting his roommates bent over, scrubbing the corridor floor with mops.
"Mopping," Fred replied flatly.
"Since when did you two become so diligent?" Lee Jordan asked with a grin, enjoying their misery. Dungbombs were notoriously difficult to clean, and Filch had given them no cleaning charms or potions—only rags and elbow grease.
"This," Filch barked to the gathering students, "is what happens when you throw dungbombs in the corridors. Don't think you can get away with mischief under my watch."
Albert patted the twins' shoulders. "Don't worry, I'll ask for leave from Defense Against the Dark Arts for you."
Fred narrowed his eyes. "Why do I feel like you're enjoying this a bit too much?"
"Am I?" Albert tilted his head innocently. "It's your fault for getting caught by Filch."
Lee Jordan shook his head. "I thought you'd at least throw dungbombs secretly. This was practically asking for trouble."
Albert, of course, knew the truth. If Filch hadn't been hovering nearby, he would have used a Scouring Charm to help. But with Filch watching, there was no chance.
Hours later, aching and exhausted, Fred and George finally finished scrubbing both corridor and office. They missed lunch entirely, sneaking sandwiches from the kitchens before collapsing under a tree.
"Well?" George demanded between bites. "What did you get? Don't tell me you came back empty-handed."
Fred smirked, pulling an envelope from his pocket. "Got it. Here."
George turned it over. The parchment was old, the envelope marked with two cryptic lines: I solemnly swear that I am up to no good. Mischief managed!
"Quick, open it!"
Inside lay a large, square piece of parchment—yellowed with age, blank to the eye.
"What is this?" George frowned. "Filch locked it in the 'Highly Dangerous' drawer. It must be hiding something."
"Maybe it needs a password," Fred mused, recalling the words on the envelope. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."
"Use your wand, idiot," George said, pressing his wand tip to the parchment. He repeated the phrase aloud.
At once, ink lines spread across the parchment like a spider's web, weaving into corridors, staircases, and towers.
"It worked!" Fred gasped.
At the top of the parchment, words unfurled in elegant script:
Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs, Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers, are proud to present…
The Marauder's Map.
"The Marauder's Map?" the twins echoed in awe.
Dots began to appear, moving across the parchment. Each was labeled with a name.
"Look! It shows everyone's location!" Fred exclaimed.
"And secret passages," George added, eyes gleaming. "With passwords!"
The two bent over the map, discovering hidden routes through the castle, staircases that shifted, and passages leading beyond Hogwarts itself.
Albert emerged from the library, his name dotting the parchment near the common room. Filch prowled the fourth floor, while Peeves floated mischievously on the sixth.
"George…"
"Fred…"
"You first…" They broke into laughter.
"Fine, together then."
"Night stroll," they chorused.
From now on, sneaking through the castle would be child's play. No need for a Disillusionment Charm—Filch could be avoided with ease.
"Try the other password," Fred urged. He tapped the parchment with his wand and whispered, "Mischief managed."
The ink faded, the parchment returning to its blank, aged state.
"They thought of everything," George marveled. "No one else can see its secrets once it's closed."
"Filch must never have figured it out," Fred said thoughtfully. "Otherwise he'd never have locked it away."
"Should we tell Albert and Lee?" George asked.
"Not yet," Fred decided. "The fewer who know, the better."
"Albert probably suspects," George muttered. "But unless we say something, he won't know for sure."
The twins exchanged grins. "Come on—let's test the passages."
They slung arms around each other's shoulders and hurried off.
"Who do you think Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs were?" George wondered aloud, tapping a statue's head to reveal a hidden passage.
"Students, definitely," Fred replied.
"Quick, someone's coming!" Fred hissed, watching the map.
They slipped into the passage just as the statue sealed shut.
"Where does this one lead?" George muttered, casting Lumos. The light flickered uncertainly.
"Fifth floor," Fred said, wrinkling his nose. "Honestly, you still haven't mastered Lumos?"
"You say that as if you've mastered it," George shot back, grinning.