It was generally agreed by all that life at Hogwarts had taken a definite turn for the worse ever since one Dolores Jane Umbridge had seized control of the school. Especially for those in Gryffindor house. First of all, the Gryffindor team was missing three of its best players. Second, the Gryffindors had to put up with the Slytherins, their constant rivals, shoving their “Inquisitorial Squad” power in everyone’s faces. Finally, and something which effected members of every house, Dumbledore had been forced to leave the school. That was the point, I the minds of many, where the situation at Hogwarts had stopped being aggravating, and started being downright frightening. Where, before, the most any wrongdoer had to worry about was a detention, they now lived under the iron fist of a woman who was becoming steadily madder with each passing day, and her actions were always unpredictable.

It was amidst this gloomy state of affairs that Fred and George Weasley sat in the 7^th year boys’ dormitory conjuring small apparitions of Umbridge’s head, and taking turns attacking it fervently with their beaters’ bats. Now that they could no longer play Quidditch, the twins’ lives had gotten extremely dull. They had even, for the most part, stopped selling their products to younger students. Tricksters they were, but they also had no desire to see others expelled on their account, particularly members of their house.

After successfully passing their frustration to Umbridge the best way they knew how, the twins wandered down to the common room. It was a Saturday evening, usually occupied by Quidditch, and Fred and George were looking for something to do. The common room only had a few other inhabitants, and all were quiet. Harry sat by the fire, for once without Ron or Hermione at his side. The twins decided to investigate the matter. Fred suggested that they sneak up on him, and give their brother’s friends a bit of a scare. And so the twins creepy stealthily up behind the couch, with a quietness perfected after 7 years of getting around Hogwarts undetected.

However, once they got close enough to see over Harry’s shoulder, they saw something which shook them decidedly out of their joking mood.

“Blimey, Harry, what happened to your hand?” Fred asked, sitting down on Harry’s left.

“Looks like you burned it,” George added from Harry’s right. “Get too close to the fire or something?”

Harry looked startled. “Oh, it’s nothing,” he assured them, in a tone that convinced neither twin. “Just a little cut, that’s all.”

They knew when not to press a matter.

Fred shrugged. “If you say so.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed absently, and then glanced at his watch. “Damn. Sorry, but I’ve got to go. I’ve got detention again tonight with Umbridge.” Harry quickly bandaged up his hand again and left the room.

“Harry’s been in Detention with that banshee’s daughter forever,” George remarked. “Still, this hippogriff dung about her not believing that You-Know-Who’s back.”

“Wait,” Fred exclaimed, looking at the door that Harry just left through, and then back at the fire. Both twins abruptly looked at each other.

“You don’t think…” muttered George.

“That she’s responsible for doing that to Harry?”

“It’s possible.”

“He’s been going to her detentions for so long now,” Fred added, his anger growing, “and she’s the only one here, well, except maybe for Snape, who would be enough of a git to do that to someone.”

“But we’ve no proof,” George finished glumly.

“Wouldn’t matter even if we did, brother mine.” The anger on Fred’s face had turned to something else, something George recognized very well.

“Are you thinking what I think you’re thinking?” George asked, grinning.

“Well, I don’t know what you think I’m thinking, but I’m thinking that our futures, perhaps, lie outside the bounds of academic achievement.

“And?”

“Oh, just that if we go, we should go in style.”

“My thoughts exactly,” George agreed. “Just one thing. I think we tell McGonagall before we go.”

“Are you mad?” Fred exclaimed.

“Not about leaving, you prat. Just about Harry.”

“Alright,” Fred agreed. “We’ll talk to her in the morning. For now, we have some planning to do.”

They high-fived, and returned to their dorm, in much higher spirits than a few moments before.

Minerva McGonagall had not had a good morning. Or, for that matter, a good month. Even though Umbridge had found no reason to sack her, McGonagall still resented strongly the fact that Dumbledore was gone. She was just about to leave for breakfast, when a knock sounded on her office door. Minerva got up and opened it. To her surprise, Fred and George Weasley stood in front of her.

“May we talk to you for a minute about Harry?” Fred asked, cutting right to the chase.

Minerva narrowed her eyes slightly, but nodded, and opened her door wider.

“You see, Professor,” Fred began, “recently, we’ve seen that Harry has some kind of burn, or cut or something on his hand.”

“And last night,” added George, “we got a good look at it, and it looked, it looked like writing.”

Minerva drew in a sharp breath.

“And we have noticed too that this abnormality seems to have begun when Harry started his lessons with our wonderful Head.”

“We didn’t know if there was a connection, but,”

“We thought we’d let you know,” George finished.

Now, Minerva was livid. What made it even worse was the knowledge that she knew there was little she could do about this. If she tried to challenge Umbridge’s authority, she might well get herself sacked for some reason or another, and her Gryffindors would have no one left to interfere with her at all.

Minerva wearily turned her eyes up, and looked back at the twins. What she saw there left her hard pressed not to burst out into laughter. If Minerva had learned nothing else over the last 7 years, she had learned the telltale signs of a Weasley prank. Some common signs were when an exam was approaching, or when she saw the facial expressions now facing her on both twins’ faces. And, although she couldn’t say for sure, Minerva was willing to bet 100 galleons that the victim of said prank was none other than Umbridge herself.

“You know,” Minerva began, focusing on a stain on the ceiling, and working hard to keep a straight face, “if someone wished to know where our headmistress would be at five this evening, I would have to tell them she won’t be in her office. However, I would not be able to tell them that she has very limited capacity in cleaning spells, and that a good summoning charm would be sufficient to break objects out of most standard broom closets.”

For a split second, the twins looked shocked, but they recovered remarkably quickly.

“Well, we’ll be off to breakfast then, Professor,” Fred said. “Have a lovely day!”

Just after they closed the door, Minerva could have sworn she heard a voice mutter, “She is bloody cool when she puts her mind to it,” although she couldn’t be sure. When she was sure the twins were gone, she sat down in her chair and began to laugh. It felt good, really, after all this time. This was going to be a very interesting evening indeed.