Chapter 37: A Grand Cause

At the top of a dimly lit staircase on the second floor, Fred and George Weasley were hunched over their latest masterpiece of mayhem. Filch had soured their Quidditch victory celebration, and while the team's star Seeker hadn't even been there to enjoy it, a grudge was a grudge.

Tonight, the caretaker was going to learn the consequences of angering Gryffindor.

This particular staircase was their carefully chosen battlefield. Only Filch used it on his nightly patrols, so there was no risk of an innocent bystander triggering their trap.

"I think we need to move the trigger plate a bit higher," Fred mused, tapping a finger on the top step. "Make it harder to dodge."

"Good idea! And then we can add some more…"

"Hmm?"

George froze mid-sentence, a flicker of movement in his peripheral vision catching his eye. He turned his head.

A small black cloak was floating towards them, its movements hesitant, the hem of its fabric trembling. It looked… scared? George wasn't sure how he knew, but the emotion was unmistakable.

Noticing it had been spotted, the cloak stopped, hovering a short distance away. It began to gesture with its two corners, pointing first at their half-finished contraption, then at itself.

"What's wrong?" Fred asked, turning away from their work. His eyes widened, then lit up.

"Hey! A flying cloak! One of the professors must have made it." He whipped out his wand. "Watch me bring it down!"

"Wait, Fred," George said, putting a hand on his brother's arm. He watched the gesturing cloak with intense curiosity. "I think… it's trying to say something."

Seeing Fred lower his wand, the little cloak tentatively floated forward again, renewing its frantic, silent gesturing. It could only hope that these two red-haired boys could understand its abstract sign language.

After a long moment of watching the performance, a look of dawning comprehension crossed George's face.

"You… want to join us?"

The black cloak instantly stopped moving. It nodded its hood so vigorously it seemed in danger of flying off, as if terrified its intentions might be misunderstood.

"Interesting! A moving cloak wants to join us!" Fred's eyes gleamed. While other students had pleaded to join their ranks before, this was by far their most peculiar applicant. He and George exchanged a look, a silent, perfect understanding passing between them.

"Alright!"

"If you want to join us…"

"…then you'll have to pass an assessment!"

With that, the twins stood up, their faces splitting into identical, proud grins.

"This brilliant contraption," Fred began with a theatrical flourish, "is our latest invention!"

"The bucket up there is full of lubricant," George continued, picking up the thread seamlessly. "The second someone steps on this trigger plate, it'll pour right down!"

"Then, the device on the wall sprays them with slug slime!"

"Next to it is that suit of armor. Once the first two traps are sprung, the sword drops and swings at the target!"

"In that situation, no one's going to stop and check if the sword is real! They'll jump back to dodge it!"

"And when they do, they'll slip on the slime and go tumbling right down the stairs!"

They paused, high-fiving with a loud smack before turning back to the little cloak.

"We're still going to put some enchanted sponge mats at the bottom," George explained. "They only appear when the trap is triggered."

"That way, the fall won't kill them," Fred finished, "but it'll definitely hurt!"

They both looked at the little cloak, their eyes full of encouragement. "Now, you need to suggest an improvement. If your idea is good enough, you're in!"

A thrill, sharp and unfamiliar, shot through the little cloak's very fibers. It had found its purpose. It had found its people. This was the grand, glorious cause it was born to serve!

When Evans arrived on the second floor, this was the scene he witnessed.

The little black cloak was floating between the two red-haired boys, wisps of black smoke seeping from under its hem, completely obscuring the twins' vision. But this seemingly terrifying display didn't frighten them in the slightest. They were impatiently turning their heads from side to side, testing the limits of the magical fog.

"Brilliant!"

"What an amazing ability! With your help, our plans will be seamless!"

"We'll never get caught and have to serve detention again!"

"Just blind Filch and his cat, and we can roam the castle all night long!"

"I declare you an official member!"

Happy to have passed the test, the little cloak shook its hood and dispelled the smoke.

With their vision restored, the twins turned to their new recruit, ready to celebrate. Their celebration was cut short.

Standing just behind their newest member, leaning against the stone wall with a knowing, half-smile, was Professor Kahn.

The twins froze.

"Professor Kahn!"

"Run!"

With a strange, unified cry, they tugged the little cloak's hood and then bolted in opposite directions, vanishing down the corridor. Just before they disappeared, they both glanced back. Seeing that Professor Kahn seemed to have no intention of pursuing their new friend, they fled with relief. They knew their professor well enough: as long as they ran fast enough, he usually wouldn't bother chasing them down for a minor infraction.

The little cloak, however, did not share their mindset. It floated in place, stunned, before its hood drooped in dejection. The Evil Wizard had come for it, and its new masters had abandoned it.

"What masters? You've already found new masters?"

Smiling, Evans patted the little cloak's hood and shook his head at the twins' handiwork. He had to admit, their talent for troublemaking far outstripped the Lethifold's. If this little one started learning from them, it would become truly lawless.

No, he thought, I have to keep this creature far, far away from the Weasley twins.

For now, it was time to take it home. The manuscript that had been gathering dust for two months could finally be put to use. A live Lethifold cub, even for conservative, observational study, would provide invaluable insights. He could publish another book in no time.

"Let's go. Time to head back."

He patted the little cloak's still-dejected hood, preparing to Apparate. But before he left, he slapped his forehead, turned back, and pointed his wand at the twins' elaborate trap. Since he'd seen it, he couldn't very well leave it for some unsuspecting victim.

"Scourgify."

[Chapter Complete]

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