Plausible Deniability

The first light of dawn filtered through the windows of the Gryffindor boys' dormitory, casting gentle shadows across the room. Faint sounds from the enchanted grounds crept in—rustling leaves and the occasional early bird. My roommates' snores filled the space, a chaotic chorus vying for dominance. The room was peaceful for now, but that calm was hanging by a thread.

I opened my eyes to the sight of my roommates still blissfully asleep, each with their own unique flair for unconscious chaos.

Harry lay on his back, breathing evenly with his glasses tilted slightly on his nose—practically a poster boy for serene sleeping habits.

Ron, by contrast, was a whirlwind of limbs, sprawled upside down with one foot hanging off the bed and a pool of drool glistening on his pillow.

Seamus had managed to twist himself into a pretzel-like position that looked both painful and oddly artistic.

Dean clutched his blanket like it was a prized treasure, while Neville snored softly, his mouth open just wide enough to catch an unfortunate fly if one dared. It was 7 AM, and as an early riser, I was ready to start the day.

Unfortunately for them, I was feeling particularly generous this morning.

With a mischievous grin, I activated my storage ability.

Back at the orphanage, I had stockpiled countless bathtubs worth of steaming hot water—because, hey, if life gives you endless baths, you might as well make it weirdly useful someday.

Summoning a generous gallon of that gloriously toasty water, I suspended it ominously above all five beds—including mine.

Why prank my own bed too, you ask?

Dramatic commitment and plausible deniability came to mind.

If you're going to unleash chaos, do it with integrity. "For good hygiene," I muttered before unleashing the deluge.

The water cascaded down in a glorious wave, soaking all of us in seconds.

"AHHH!" Ron bellowed, flailing as he shot up from his bed.

Seamus spluttered, blinking rapidly. "Wh-what just happened? Is this some twisted new wake-up call?"

Harry wiped water from his glasses, looking utterly bewildered.

"I swear I was dreaming about this epic treasure hunt. Now I'm the one getting drenched by booby traps."

Neville gasped, clutching his soaked blankets. "Great, now I've got water in my nose! That's just brilliant, isn't it?"

Feigning shock, I jumped up, wide-eyed. "What in Merlin's soggy socks was that?!"

Dean stared at me incredulously, wringing out the hem of his drenched pajama top. "I have no idea but this is one hell of a bloody awakening?"

"I heard rumors—there are a pair of red-headed pranksters in Gryffindor. Upper years, apparently. They pull stunts like this all the time right? Classic dormitory drenching."

Ron's face turned beet red. "Pranksters? You mean my brothers? Fred and George? Those gits are always pulling nonsense!"

"See? I knew it!" I exclaimed, nodding fervently. "I bet it was them. Can't trust a pair of troublemakers like that."

Seamus scowled. "We have to get them back. I'm talking explosions with style."

"Did you mean laxatives, Seamus? Because that's a plot twist I wasn't prepared for." I responded.

"Let's focus on drying off first," Harry said grimly, shaking out his drenched robe.

"Revenge plans are always better when you're not soaked to the bone."

We all trudged to the showers, muttering curses about prankster siblings and unexpected water torture. After a quick rinse and change into our school robes, we headed down to the common room. The fire was crackling cheerfully, utterly indifferent to the mayhem we'd just endured.

Percy, ever the dedicated prefect, was perched on an armchair reading Prefects Who Gained Power. His nose was buried so deep in the pages that he remained oblivious to the dripping, grumbling chaos around him. I half-expected him to suggest filing an official complaint with the Department of Morning Disruptions. His nose was buried so deep in the pages he didn't notice our arrival.

Ron marched up to him, his face still flushed. "Percy, you need to do something about Fred and George! They drenched us awake this morning!"

Percy frowned, lowering his book. "Drenched you? Are you sure it wasn't Peeves? He's got a fondness for chaos."

"It was definitely Fred and George," Seamus interjected, his hair still damp. "They're a menace with red hair and poor judgment."

"I doubt there's any official Hogwarts ruling on 'no drenching your roommates,'" Percy said loftily. "But I'll have a word with them." His tone made it clear that "a word" would be as effective as a kitten trying to reprimand a dragon.

Ron's face turned beet red. "You're completely useless, Percy! Absolutely no help whatsoever!" he spat.

Percy stiffened, lowering his book with a dignified glare. "I fail to see how Fred and George's antics are my responsibility. I'm a prefect, not a miracle worker."

"You act like you're in charge of the entire world," Ron shot back, his voice rising. "But you can't even handle two troublemaking brothers. Some prefect you are!"

Percy sniffed. "If you applied even a fraction of your energy to your studies instead of whining, you might actually get somewhere in life."

As the bickering between the two siblings continued Harry and Seamus just stood by and listened.

Meanwhile, Hermione, Neville, and I decided to head straight to the Great Hall. "Come on," Hermione urged. "Professor McGonagall needs to know about this."

The corridors were quiet as most students were still asleep. As we walked, Hermione kept glancing at me.

"You really don't seem too upset about this," she observed.

I shrugged. "Eh, builds character. Plus, it makes for a great breakfast story."

When we entered the Great Hall, the professors were already seated at the head table. Hermione motioned for us to head straight to Professor McGonagall.

"Go on," she urged. "She needs to know."

We approached the stern professor, who was sipping her morning tea. Her sharp eyes softened slightly when she saw us.

"Good morning," she greeted. "Is there an issue?"

Neville wasted no time. "Professor, Fred and George drenched the boys' dormitory awake this morning! It was awful!"

Hermione nodded fervently. "Completely uncalled for and frankly, disruptive to the educational environment."

McGonagall's eyes narrowed. "Is that so?"

"Absolutely," I added solemnly. "A very rude awakening. I thought Hogwarts at least had a respectable wake-up policy. The whole bedroom is now drenched."

"I see," she said crisply. "Enjoy your breakfast. I will investigate this matter personally." She stood up and marched out of the hall, her robes billowing behind her.

"That was terrifying," Neville whispered. "Do you think she can scare Fred and George straight?"

"If anyone can," I said, "it's McGonagall. Her glare could probably make even Peeves rethink his life choices."

We sat down at the Gryffindor table, where an impressive English breakfast spread awaited us. Plates of sausages, scrambled eggs, toast, porridge, and jugs of fresh orange juice gleamed under the morning light.

Professor McGonagall stormed into the Great Hall, her lips pressed into a tight line, followed closely by Percy, Ron, Harry, Seamus, and two very bewildered-looking Fred and George. The twins, usually full of mischief, now looked half-mutinous, half-curious, as if they had just been accused of a crime they had yet to commit.

"Mr. Weasley, Mr. Weasley," McGonagall's gaze fixed on the twins. "I believe you owe your fellow first-years an apology."

Fred raised an eyebrow. "For what exactly, Professor?"

"Drenching the Gryffindor boys' dormitory in water," she said sharply. "Your younger brother and his friends were quite clear about your involvement."

George sighed dramatically. "Professor, we would love to take credit for this one—truly, a classic move. But I regret to inform you, we had nothing to do with it."

"We always claim our pranks," Fred added. "It's a matter of pride."

McGonagall's eyes narrowed. "Regardless, I cannot ignore a complaint from your housemates. You will serve three nights of detention with Mr. Filch."

"You wound me, Professor," George clutched his chest. "Truly, you do."

"Not as much as Filch will when he puts you to work," she quipped before turning on her heel and walking away, robes billowing behind her.

As soon as she was out of earshot, the twins turned to us. "Alright," Fred said, crossing his arms. "Who actually did it?"

"Because this," George gestured wildly, "was not our doing. And quite frankly, we're offended you thought so little of our creativity."

Seamus rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "Well… it seemed like your kind of thing."

"Fair," Fred admitted. "But still rude."

I took a bite of toast, watching their reactions carefully. "So, if it wasn't you two, then who was it?"

George squinted at me. "That, my dear Sky, is an excellent question. One that we will definitely get to the bottom of. But in the meantime, congratulations to whoever did it. That was a masterclass."

I smiled. "I'll be sure to pass along the compliment if I ever meet the genius behind it."

The twins exchanged glances before narrowing their eyes at me. "Suspicious," Fred muttered.

"Very suspicious," George agreed.

I simply winked and returned to my breakfast as they continued to scrutinize me. If they figured it out, I'd just have to make sure my next prank was even better.