Chapter 51: On the Self-cultivation of Actors

"Are we really going to leave it here?"

In a corner of the second-floor corridor, the Weasley twins were whispering to each other. After their efforts yesterday, Fred had successfully mastered the unlocking spell. The next morning, they couldn't wait to cause trouble for Filch, which led to the scene before them.

"Yes, right here," George looked up towards the end of the corridor and nodded. "Yesterday, William from the third grade threw a dungbomb here. I heard it took Filch a long time to clean up the mess."

"Alright, remember to cover for me," Fred said gallantly. He saw Filch approaching from the other side and quietly reached into his paper bag, taking out a dungbomb. Just as he was about to strike up a conversation with George, he suddenly realized that his twin brother had vanished into thin air.

"You little sneak, you disappeared so fast," Fred muttered under his breath. Taking a deep breath, he dropped the dungbomb on the ground as Filch passed by.

Plop.

A putrid smell wafted through the air, immediately filling the majority of the corridor. Filch lowered his head, his expression contorting with disgust. He suddenly looked up, frantically scanning the area, and his gaze landed on Fred, holding a paper bag.

"You annoying brat, do you know how long it took me to clean up that dungbomb yesterday?" Filch's face turned crimson, and the muscles in his cheeks twitched. He seemed on the verge of exploding with anger as he grabbed Fred's hand.

Fred's hand was dirty from escaping the dungbomb in the paper bag.

"I have solid evidence. Come with me. This time, no matter what, I'm going to have you confined," Filch said, grabbing Fred and preparing to drag him to his office. "I should have convinced Dumbledore to reinstate the old-fashioned punishments, like hanging you lot from the ceiling for a few days or giving you a good thrashing with a whip to teach you a lesson."

After Fred was caught by Filch, George emerged from another passageway. He watched as Fred was taken away by Filch and couldn't help but swallow nervously. He lowered his head, staring at his own paper bag, and quickly followed behind them.

Fred glanced back and saw George right behind him, which relieved him. It was a good thing his brother didn't back down; otherwise, his efforts would have been in vain.

By the way, Filch's footsteps still emitted the foul smell of rotten eggs, and he kept muttering in anger, venting his inner frustration.

Before long, Filch brought Fred into his office.

"Don't even think about escaping. If you try, there will be even worse consequences," Filch said with a dark expression, pointing to the chains hanging behind his desk. He whispered, "I occasionally oil them up, and who knows, one day I might make use of them. Only by giving you little rascals a harsh lesson can I ensure that you think twice before breaking the school rules, understand?"

Fred paid no attention to Filch's rambling, instead surveying this place that most students avoided like the plague.

He began searching for his target, the location of the drawer.

Firch took out a roll of parchment from the drawer on the desk and spread it out in front of him. Then he picked up a long black feather quill, dipped it in the inkwell, and asked sternly, "Name...". Firch noticed that the other person didn't answer and raised his head sharply, asking, "Your name."

"Fred Weasley," Fred replied somewhat casually, as he had already found the exact position of the drawer.

"Offense..."

"Using joke props in the hallway."

"You are defiling the castle."

"Punishment, confinement..." Before Firch could finish his sentence, a dung bomb was thrown into the office from outside, and an nauseating stench of rotten eggs instantly filled the room.

A brief moment of astonishment appeared on Firch's face. He dropped the quill, went crazy, and rushed towards the door, trying to catch the person who dared to provoke him.

"Hope George buys us some time," Fred said to himself as he hurriedly walked towards the file cabinet. He took out his wand, pointed it at a drawer labeled "Confiscated Items, Highly Dangerous," and gently tapped it while saying, "Alohomora."

Fred had practiced this spell many times the night before. He quickly opened the drawer, grabbed an envelope without even looking at it, stuffed it into his pocket, and closed the drawer again, returning it to its original position.

Outside the office, Firch's footsteps were getting closer. He had already caught George and was dragging him into the office by the ear.

"Very well, another little troublemaker," Firch panted heavily and pointed at the marks left by the dung bomb on the floor, saying, "I will make you clean up the mess you've made. I'll keep an eye on you. No one is getting away. Now, come with me to see Professor McGonagall."

A few minutes later, Firch knocked on Professor McGonagall's office door and told her about the misdeeds of the Weasley twins. The expression on the face of the Gryffindor Head of House immediately turned sour. Yesterday's incident with William had already put Professor McGonagall in a bad mood, and now another one of these situations had occurred.

"Gryffindor loses twenty points, Mr. Weasley," Professor McGonagall nodded towards Firch, "and they will be confined. You'll arrange their punishment."

"I will make them realize their mistakes," Firch's face showed a triumphant smile as he left Professor McGonagall's office with the twins.

"I think before confinement, we should clean up your pranks," Firch said immediately after leaving Professor McGonagall's office, looking at the twins with malice in his eyes.

Fred and George exchanged glances, and one of them muttered softly, "We still have classes in the morning."

"Well, I guess you'll need to take a day off. Follow me," Firch said, taking long strides toward the ground floor of the castle.

The twins had no choice but to follow behind Firch, attracting curious gazes and whispers from onlookers.

Fred turned his head slightly and winked at his brother, signaling that he had successfully accomplished their goal.

George couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief. Their adventure hadn't been in vain; otherwise, they would have ended up getting themselves into trouble.

Indeed, when causing trouble for Firch, they couldn't afford to be caught by him.

Firch led the twins to a broom closet beneath a spiral staircase on the ground floor of Hogwarts. He took out a bucket, mop, and broom from inside and handed them to the twins.

"Well then, let's start mopping the floor," Firch smirked maliciously at the twins. "It's about time everyone sees what kind of punishment mischievous troublemakers should receive."

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(End of this chapter)