Catching a few Weasels

A few months had passed since Hogwarts first started and I had to say I was having the time of my life, I seriously couldn't understand how I had lived without magic before. Now you might be wondering what groundbreaking discoveries I'd made about being a Scribe, how sentience in objects worked, or how exactly my peculiar magic functioned.

Well, my answer was delightfully simple, absolutely nothing. 

Oh, Professor Flitwick had been teaching me Ancient Runes, which gave me some pretty good insights into magical theory. But as for everything else? I had what I liked to call "concepts of plans." Now, some might argue that having concepts of plans was essentially having nothing at all, to which I would respond: "I Cast Fireball!" (Though not literally, as setting critics ablaze was generally frowned upon at Hogwarts.)

The evening found me sitting cross-legged before the Ravenclaw Tower's eagle doorknocker, studying its intricate bronze feathers for the thousandth time. The torchlight caught its metallic surface, creating dancing shadows that almost made it seem alive - which, technically, it was. My goal was simple: figure out how to "borrow" it for closer examination. The fact that this artifact had been created by Rowena Ravenclaw herself only made it more all the more challenging to borrow.

These past months hadn't been completely unproductive. Drake had mastered sign language, no longer stumbling over basic phrases when talking with Bell. Bell herself was making remarkable progress with silent casting, though Transfiguration still gave her particular trouble. Watching her practice had given me unprecedented insight into how spells formed and moved in our own magic - I could now cast most first-year charms, curses, and other spells both wandlessly and chantless. Not that I was bragging, mind you.

"Hey Felix, still trying to steal it?"

Penelope Clearwater's voice interrupted my intense study of the knocker's magical patterns. Our little group had expanded considerably since term started - not just Bell and Drake anymore, we had nine other students in our little group of houses, of which, surprisingly enough, Dominic Travers and Marcus Flint.

The two former Slytherin lackeys had actually turned out to be decent people once they'd gotten off their high horses (and after a few months of experiencing my continuous zip it and mend buttcrack).

"Yes, I am," I replied, not taking my eyes off the knocker. "Now shoo, please. I need to concentrate."

Penelope knelt beside me, her curly hair falling forward as she examined the knocker herself. "You know you won't be able to steal that, right? It was made by Rowena herself. If you manage it, you'd be one of the best wizards in Europe."

"I'll take that as a challenge."

"Tell you what - if you can steal it by the end of the school year, I'll give you a kiss."

I finally looked up from the eagle, meeting her grey eyes. "No."

"No?"

"I want a tome on water charms from your family library."

She blinked, clearly thrown by my response. "Fine, I'll give you a tome."

"The best tome."

"The best," she agreed, a smile playing at her lips. "Though it's not like you're actually going to manage it."

"You wait and watch."

"Still, it's almost time for curfew. Are you sure you want to stay out here?"

"Yeah, I've been thinking of something I wanted to try out for a while."

The eagle knocker seemed to watch our exchange with its usual inscrutable expression. I sighed and rapped it with my knuckles, triggering its nightly ritual.

"Only one color, but not one size, Stuck at the bottom, yet easily flies. Present in sun, but not in rain, Doing no harm, and feeling no pain. What is it?"

While Penelope pondered the riddle, I focused on tracking the familiar flow of magic through the knocker - something I'd done countless times before. The pattern never varied: right eye to left wing, then to the torso, cycling endlessly. My research had revealed that all sentient objects followed similar cycles, recycling their magic in endless loops.

The precise combination charms that made them sentient however was very hard to actually figure out and from what I had sensed from the Sorting Hat from the two times I had been able to be near it, it was much more complex than either the sentient gargoyles in the second floor or this eagle.

"A shadow," Penelope answered confidently.

The door swung open, dragging me along as I kept hanging on the doorknocker. Other students filed past us, heading to their dormitories before curfew. But I had other plans for the night - namely, catching two particular redheaded troublemakers. The Weasley twins had been sneaking out at night; I'd spotted them during my late-night guitar practice sessions (which was slowly improving, thank you very much).

Their latest prank - shrinking everyone's, yes everyone's, heads to apple-size during breakfast - couldn't go unanswered. The castle's bell tolled, and the corridor torches dimmed to their nighttime glow.

"Time to find two weasels in a castle," I muttered, drawing my wand.

I cast a Silencing Charm on myself - yes, I could have done it wandlessly, but wands made everything look cooler. Moving quietly through the tower, I made my way to the seventh-floor corridor where the Fat Lady dozed in her frame.

"Psst, Fat Lady?"

She blinked sleepily. Unlike with other students, she never scolded me for waking her - I had an idea as to why and I had used that why more than I cared to admit to be honest, still soon pimping out my cuteness would turn into my favor.

"Oh Felix deary, what ever is the matter?"

"Did the twins return to the common room?"

She touched her chin (well, chins) thoughtfully. "No, I don't think so."

"Thank you, and sorry for bothering you. Have a good night's rest."

"Oh Felix deary, you never bother. Well, unless you're asking your magic questions."

I felt my cheeks warm slightly at that - but honestly, magic was fascinating. Sue me.

Moving silently through the darkened corridors, I kept alert for signs of Filch. A run-in with Mrs. Norris wouldn't be terrible - she'd grown quite fond of my head scratches - but her owner was another matter entirely, especially since I had cast tungsten ballsack on him three times after he came running after me. I descended the moving staircase to the Great Hall, seeking out one particular painting: a witch with glowing purple eyes who smiled at me slyly.

"Violet."

"Felix."

"Time to gossip."

"Time to gossip."

Violet glided from her frame to begin spreading the word. With the twins confirmed absent from their common room, what better way to track them than Hogwarts' own network of mobile sentinels?

The Great Hall door creaked and I quickly raised my hand. "I Cast Fly."

Yes, I'd mastered personal levitation - though only after a near-death experience falling from my broom in Flying class. The spell consumed magic rapidly if I moved, making it more self-levitation than true flight, but it served its purpose. I rose silently to the ceiling just as Filch entered the Great Hall, his lantern casting long shadows.

Thank Merlin Mrs. Norris wasn't with him - she would have spotted me instantly and demanded attention, which I most likely would have given her. What can I say? She was adorable.

But now wasn't the time for feline affection. I had two troublemaking Weasleys to catch, and an army of gossiping painted witches to help me do it.

A/N: The more ps you use the more extra chapters I'll upload: Top 100: +1 bonus chapter, Top 50: +2 bonus chapters, Top 20: +3 bonus chapters, Top 10: +4 bonus chapters, Top 5: +4 bonus chapters, Top 3: +5 bonus chapters, Top 2: +6 bonus chapters, Top 1: +8 bonus chapters.

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