The Auror Office at Ministry of Magic was alerted late last night about a break-in in the Janus Thickey Ward at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. However, upon arriving at the scene, the Auror's found no one other than the dazed patients. The only suspicious object recovered from the scene was an untied and strangely burnt rope. Healer Miriam Strout, in-charge of the Janus Thickey Ward for Permanent Spell-Damage, was not only absent from the scene but was also found asleep way earlier than she usually is, as told by fellow Healers.

"We believe strong Confundus charm was behind this," said a spokeswizard for the hospital. "Healer Strout has been employed at St. Mungo's for twenty-seven years. She has never once slipped from her duty. St. Mungo's deeply regrets this attempt at a break-in and is working tirelessly on putting up extra security measures."

Speaking to reporters in his private office, Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic, said he believed this was another one of Black's feats.

"Sirius Black and his followers are trying to terrorize the Wizarding Community by breaking into one of the safest magical places in London," said Fudge last night. "We believe he simply meant to show how well he can infiltrate past our security but indeed failed in getting out without the alarms going off. The safety of sick witches and wizards is our top priority and I will be personally appointing a team of Aurors for the same.

"We are also placing Frank and Alice Longbottom, permanent residents of the Janus Thickey Ward, former Aurors, and Black's old classmates, in a private room. Black's not well known for his loyalty, after all... We are also doing all we can to round up the criminals and still beg the magical community to remain alert and cautious. On no account should any of these individuals be approached."

"That is mad!" Harry exclaims, snatching The Daily Prophet from Hermione's hands and knocking over a goblet of milk in the process. Scanning the words angrily, he adds, "How could he possibly blame Si-"

"Harry!" Hermione whispers sharply, "You're attracting attention!"

"Calm down, mate," Ron says comfortingly. "We know he didn't do it."

"Don't you tell me to calm down! It says 'Black isn't known for his loyal-'"

"We know, Harry," Hermione interrupts, looking desperate. "But you can't talk about this here. There're too many people!"

"-and what's Neville going to think, then? That Siri- Snuffles-" he changes quickly as Hermione banged her spoon loudly against her plate "-is trying to hurt his parents?! Fudge is mad!"

"Might not want to say that," Margaret mutters to her yoghurt. "Fudge's fanatic is heading this way."

Hermione picked up her bag and got out of the bench. "Come on, Harry."

Ron did the same, picking up Harry's backpack as well. The two of them waited as Harry glared at Umbridge's approaching figure venomously, gripping his fork and knife as though he would like nothing more than to stab them through Fudge's eye sockets. As he could not do so, he slammed them down, got up and stormed out of the Great Hall followed by his two best friends.

Margaret watched them go, feeling incredibly bad.

She did not imagine the blame of her actions falling on Sirius's shoulder when she had teleported to St Mungo's last night. Not only that, she could not talk about this to anyone.

It had been quite difficult to undo the silencing charm that boy had put on her. She was up well after midnight trying to do the counter-spell herself as she had no way to explain her situation to Madam Pomfrey if she went to the hospital wing.

That boy seemed to hover in the front of her mind all through the week, making her wonder why he had not used the perfect opportunity to frame her for his crime.

Although, someone had noticed Margaret's quietness and he seemed to be keen to find out why she was suddenly distancing herself from everyone. And so Margaret found herself in the common room with the two identical Weasley's following her around everywhere.

She huffed finally, turning to them. "What is it?"

"Nothing," the both say in sync.

She stared at them through narrowed eyes before walking towards the couch and sitting down. As predicted, they sat down next to her.

"All right! What is it?!" she exclaims, looking in between them.

"She's not smart, Freddie," says George, looking at his twin above her head.

"Oi!"

"Yeah, we'd have to explain, wouldn't we?" Fred sighs.

"Excuse me?!"

"We want to know why you've been so down lately," they say together, giving her pointed looks.

"What? I haven't been-"

They both raised their brows at her. Margaret sighed, shoulders dropping.

"It's nothing, I swear. Just stressed about boring stuff..."

"Do enlighten us," they both say in sync.

"Just... about things," Margaret shrugs. "O.W.Ls, homework... boring stuff, like I said. You tell me, what's goin' on?"

"The usual," says George. "Making stuff-"

"Selling stuff," adds Fred, taking out a pouch filled with galleons and sickles and wiggling his brows.

"Getting rich," they say together.

"Impressive!"

"That's nothing yet, it isn't," says George, sharing a wicked glance with his twin. "Wait 'till you see what we're planning."

Margaret pursed her lips and nodded. "Yeah, of course. I mean... I'm most excited to see the grand finale of fireworks..."

There were precisely three seconds of silence.

And then both of them grabbed her by the arms and sprung to their feet.

"Oi!" she shouts, squirming in their grips as they lead her past the couches and up the stairs to the boys' dormitories. "I'm not going in there I don't want to come across boys in their birthday suits-!"

"Tut tut, such imagination, Margie," says Fred, smirking, knowing she didn't mind. She would try struggling harder if she did, this was nothing.

"Not to worry, we'll make sure no one ruins your innocence," adds George, also smirking.

They pulled her with them to the highest level, the sixth, all the while ignoring her protests. She was half-laughing at their childishness, and threatening that she would scream bloody murder if they didn't stop 'accidentally' tickling her (mostly Fred.)

"C'mon guys, I'm not going to tell anybody!" she whines, shoulders shaking with laughter.

"We like to keep the element of surprise, Xenakis," says Fred as they enter their dorm, which was empty.

The two of them finally let go of her, both going in opposite sides of the room to their beds that were near the window.

"Even with me?" she asks, pouting.

"Especially with you," Fred mentions, rummaging underneath his bed. At least she thought it was his bed because there was a big 'G' on the wall above the nightstand.

"Take a seat, don't be shy," George speaks up, bringing out a notepad and a quill. "Although don't go near Jordan's bed-"

"Merlin knows what happens on there!" Fred shouts from under the bed, his voice muffled.

"It's always squeaking, isn't it?" George asks.

"Always."

"Which one's yours?" Margaret asks.

"That one," Fred answers almost automatically, pointing at the bed with 'F' on the nightstand. If she squinted, she was sure she could see markings of three other shimmering letters to form a cuss word.

She smirks, "Not you, Gred."

Margaret raised her brows at George, who grinned mischievously as his twin's head appeared over the bedding, confused.

"That one," he answers, pointing at the bed Fred was rummaging under.

She shrugged, walking over to it and plopping down at the foot of the bed.

Fred rolled his eyes, climbing up next to her. He had brought out what looked like a large leather-bound briefcase with two 'WW' engraved in orange on the sides. A strong smell of gunpowder wafted out of it when he opened it. It was bigger inside than it seemed to be from the outside, at least five levels deep and completely packed with tools and material. When she tried to peek, Fred turned it away from her, giving her a joking look of disapproval.

"All right, Margie," says George, suddenly sounding serious.

"We need you to tell us everything," says Fred in the same tone.

Margaret felt the laughter bubbling up her throat and she covered her mouth with a hand to swallow it. Their expressions remained stoic but it was so hard to take them seriously.

"I... can't do that..." she chokes out, clearing her throat.

"Why not?" they ask at once.

"Er... I didn't know I was in for an investigation," she says pulling up her feet to sit cross-legged. "What I can tell you is that what you're planning is perfect and you're both doing a great job... It's been one thing I've been looking forward to all year," she tells them earnestly.

"We honoured, Margie," says Fred.

"Oh no, no, no!" George interrupts loudly. "You two can't get lovey-dovey and think I'd forget about this! Tell us what you know, Margaret Xenakis, or..."

"Or?" she asks challengingly.

"Or we'd have to take difficult measures," Fred says gravely.

Margaret's eyes widen comically, "What... difficult measures?

"Tell us what you know and you won't have to find out," George shrugs.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "I told you I can't."

"Why not?"

"'Cause it'd be equivalent to telling you the future!"

"Isn't it different if we already know what we're doing-"

"No, because if I tell you, you'll try to change it or tweak it up a notch or something, and... I don't know... that's not how time and events work."

"We won't," they deny at once.

"And you expect me to believe that?" she deadpans.

"What little faith you have in us, Margie," George gasps, feigning hurt.

She sighed, realising that they won't give up so easily.

"Listen, don't change what you're going to do... it's perfect, it really is. Just... be patient."

The two of them exchange a look as Margaret pulled at the loose golden thread on the quilt, keeping her eyes down. Neither of the twins' expressions changed for several seconds but it was obvious that they were communicating.

"So that's how you converse!" Margaret exclaims suddenly, pointing between then two of them.

"What?" Fred asks, blinking.

"Did you both ever realise you're using Legilimency?"

"We don't know what you're talking about," they say in sync, giving nothing away.

Margaret was grinning from ear-to-ear, having opened her mind and heard their thoughts. They believed her, but more importantly, it was like twin telepathy!

"That's so cool!" she says, grinning and bouncing on the bed lightly out of excitement.

George got up to put his notepad back on the nightstand as Fred closed the briefcase.

"We'll take your word for it," says George, stuffing his hands into his pockets. Then giving her a stern look, he adds, "For now..."

"Speaking of things that you're doing, did you figure out your Skiving Snackboxes yet?" she asks.

"Not with those boils..." Fred grimaces.

"Have you tried murtlap essence?" Margaret suggests, giving them a sheepish smile. "Sorry... I could've told you months ago, I don't know how it slipped my mind-"

But George was already on his way to the door.

"I'm getting some right now," he suddenly declares. "Yes... Healing potion didn't work... Herbs didn't- why didn't we think of good ol' essence of murtlap's tentacles?!"

He turns back to them from the door, shaking his finger at them both warningly, "No funny business, you two. My side of the room is off-limits. Do you understand? Off. Limits."

"We'll put a sock on the door!" both Margaret and Fred deadpan together. He grinned whilst she burst out laughing.

George blinked, lip curling. "That was creepy... Never do that again."

He slams the door shut. Not even a second later, it bursts open again:

"I'm watching you."

The door shut and opened once more.

"My bed – off-limits."

The door shut again and Fred quickly leaned back to pick up a pillow whilst Margaret levitated one from the opposite bed.

The door clicked open again:

"I swear on Mer- oomph!"

The door did not open again but by the sounds of angry muttering from the other side, George had learnt his lesson.

Margaret shifted around before falling back, her head facing the foot of the bed. She did not know why but the more time she spent with the twins, the more elated she felt. It was a weird sort of genuine fun, like something bordering complete happiness, and she did not think she had felt like that in a long time.

"What're you doing?" Fred asks curiously.

"Analysing," she says.

"The... ceiling?" he asks, looking up at the pale yellow ceiling.

"Yep," she answers, popping the 'p'.

"And what's the verdict?"

"It's a... very boring ceiling..." she mutters conspiringly as though it was top secret.

Fred smirked, getting to his feet before placing both his hands on either side of her shoulders and leaning over her.

"How 'bout now?"

Margaret smiles, "Much better..."

"There is nothing I could do to get you to tell us what you know?" he tries again, his voice low.

Margaret hummed, licking her lips absentmindedly, realising that he was eye-level with them when his eyes flickered up.

"Hmm... Nope."

"Nothing at all...?"

"I like to keep my secrets, Fred," she smiles, reaching up to ruffle his already messy hair.

"Very well, be like that," he sighs, shaking his head to get the strands of his hair out of his eyes. She chuckles at this as he adds, "But I'll find a way to surprise you, Margie. Mark my words."

"Don't be too shocked if I surprise you back," she tells him, grinning and watching as his eyes alternate between her eyes and her lips. She was not any better as she reached up to poke the crease between his eyebrows. "What is it?"

"I just realised something," Fred says, tilting his head slightly. "We're yet to prank you properly..."

Margaret's eyes widened as a grin spread through his features.

"Oh boy..."

"Not to worry," he says, even though his expression full of mischief suggests nothing but trouble, "we'll go easy on you."

"Oh, no you won't," she says knowingly, dread starting to rise up. "You wouldn't want anyone to know Fred Weasley has a soft side..."

He smirked, shifting a bit so that his face was closer to hers. "I like to keep my secrets."

"Well, well, well," she says, mildly impressed but not surprised that he had turned her own words against her. He was getting closer to her, which was enough to distract her.

"Y'know, I quite like this," he says thoughtfully.

"Me being in your room or us being in this position?" she counters cheekily, feeling the heat rise up to her cheeks.

Fred chuckled, his gaze teasing, "I swear if someone was listening at the door right about now..."

"They would be very confused."

"Nah, I think they'd end up at very, very different conclusions."

"Yikes, we forgot to put a sock on the door," she teases, enjoying very much when his cheeks turned rosy making his freckles stand out even more.

Fred leaned down to nudge her nose with his before moving a bit down her face to press his lips to her smile. Kissing upside down was definitely different, yet the two of them did not seem mind.

Margaret reached up to softly touch his hair, a bit hesitant. Fred caught her hand, balancing on his free one as he bit her bottom lip lightly. Her fingers that were tangled into his soft red strands tugged slightly at this and she felt his breath hitch.

And then the door clicked open.

"I TOLD YOU MY SIDE OF THE ROOM WAS OFF LIMITS!"

They broke apart; Fred stood back up properly and sent his fuming twin a grin whilst Margaret sat up and fixed her appearance, pretty sure that her face was as red as Fred's hair.

"YOLO, brother dearest!" Fred exclaims, dodging as George chucked the pillow that was near the door back at him.

She rolled her eyes.

George narrowed his eyes at his brother. "At least now you know what snogging feels like-"

"Move aside, Weasley," someone grumbles behind him. Lee Jordan pushed his way into the room, ignorant that there was a girl inside, and jumped into his bed which squeaked loudly in protest.

"What's got your wand in a twist?" asks Fred, ignoring his twin's comment for the time being, "Ah – you had detention, didn't you?"

"How's ol' toad face? Gave her our pleasant greetings, did you?" George asks, kicking the door close and stalking towards Fred's bed to put down what seemed to be a small bowl of murtlap essence on the nightstand.

"She's a bitch, she is," Lee snaps, throwing his socks across the room and running his right hand through his hair.

"Whoa-ho-ho, language, young man! You're in a lady's presence," Fred jokes.

Margaret, however, was frowning down at Lee's left hand, knowing very well what he was trying to hide.

"She made you do lines, didn't she?" she asks slowly, shifting to swing her feet against the ground.

Lee looked up at her and she was slightly taken aback to see that his eyes were glassy. It seemed he had not expected to be punished so harshly.

"You've had detentions with her, haven't you? Potter as well," he says quietly. "How'd any of you handle more than one?"

Fred and George exchanged a confused glance.

Margaret gave him a small smile and shrugged. "Eh... At least you know you stood up for your friends."

Lee looked down at the ground and Margaret knew why. Like she had stood up for Harry, Lee had stood up for Fred and George even if it was silly.

Educational Decree number twenty-eight, which was passed following the mass breakout from Azkaban on their first night back, stated that teachers were banned from talking about anything except the subjects they were paid to teach.

It had become quite a joke around as one would expect. Lee had pointed out to Umbridge that by the terms of the new rule, she was not allowed to tell Fred and George off for playing Exploding Snap in the back of the classroom as it had nothing to do with Defence Against the Dark Arts.

"Georgie?"

"Yeah, Freddie?"

"Methinks we're missing something..."

"Wethinks we're missing something..."

Lee scoffed and wordlessly held up his left hand which was bleeding rather badly.

The air of the room suddenly tensed. Margaret did not think she had ever seen Fred and George so still.

"I must not defend troublemakers," Lee reads the bloody words, glancing sideways at Margaret who had promptly put her hand in her hoodie's pocket, "What does yours say?"

Margaret sighed, not the one who was ashamed of her scars, but at the same time, not wanting to give Fred and George a reason to do something rash. She scratched her brow with her free hand, feeling conflicted.

"I must not believe liars..." she mumbles a moment later.

Lee scoffed even louder.

"This woman's barbaric!" George exclaims suddenly, finally letting the anger out. "Is that even legal?!"

"It's not-"