George nodded grimly. "Exactly. That book Dad kept in the back—it got scorched. He called it a dark magic artifact."
"That's it!" Fred shot to his feet. "We got walloped because of that thing!"
The Weasley family was bigger than most folks realized— the largest branch among the Sacred Twenty-Eight pure-blood lines. Arthur's side alone had seven kids. Compared to his little sister Ginny, Ron's upbringing was a nonstop adventure in chaos.
Raising that many children stretched Mrs. Weasley thin; there were days she'd meant well but simply couldn't keep up, leaving one of them overlooked.
As the baby boy of the bunch, Ron often drew the short straw.
In his early years, he'd rather tag along with the twins than his stuffy older brother Percy. Trouble was, Fred and George had a knack for mischief that always looped back around.
After a few rounds of their games, Ron graduated from playmate to prime target.
One infamous prank had the twins digging into the family grimoire, transfiguring Ron's beloved teddy bear into a massive spider. It scarred him for life—now he couldn't stand the sight of them.
Another time, they raided Arthur's study and unearthed a rare curio. Fiddling with it unlocked some spell eerily like an Unbreakable Vow, nearly binding Ron in a magical contract.
The fallout was brutal. Arthur unleashed a rage like nothing they'd seen, hexing their backsides lopsided for good measure. It was a beating that stuck with them.
Vizette couldn't help but marvel—Ron's survival into adulthood was a minor miracle.
...
After murmuring a quiet "good luck" for Ron, Vizette grabbed a blank book. "So, how do I access the memories inside?"
Even his Magic Eye picked up nothing unusual. These tomes had some extra wards layered on.
With the twins' track record, straight talk was the way to go.
"Burn off the outer layer—it strips the protection," George said, thumbing the cover. "That's what worked for us."
"Spot on," Fred agreed. "Dad's office is a goldmine of oddities. We knocked over a candle by accident, singed the shell, and poof—the guts were exposed."
George shuddered dramatically. "We were kids, total greenhorns. Scared out of our wits."
Fred clapped his brother's shoulder. "Lucky for us, the artifact's magic zapped our panic away quick."
Vizette nodded. "Counterintuitive, but clever."
He'd never dream of torching his precious volumes to crack them. It reminded him of Serena's dry quip...
The last Keeper had been cut from different cloth.
Old wizarding clans like the Weasleys hoarded secrets like dragons guarded gold. Fred and George had picked up half their tricks from home.
Luna was no different—raised on tales of flora, she'd whipped up that shimmering golden elixir from dawn's first dew as a kid.
For pure-bloods weaned on magic, certain basics were second nature. Vizette still had gaps to fill, instincts to hone.
Every slip was a lesson in this vibrant, perilous world—from dusty pages to family lore and hard-won grit.
...
"Incendio!" Vizette flicked his wand, igniting one book with a controlled burst.
He watched intently as the flames danced, tracking every shift on the surface.
Just as the twins described, a peculiar shield coated it. The fire licked without charring or warping the pages.
In moments, the blaze sputtered erratically, belching thin gray plumes.
Vizette doused it. The twins snatched the book, inspecting it. "Not quite like ours," Fred muttered.
"We'll need a memory extraction spell," Vizette added.
It clicked now—why the Pensieve chamber held that memory of the incantation.
Serena had a flair for these setups: hurdles hiding prizes. Had the prior Keeper challenged her the same way?
...
"Transfer Memory!" Vizette tapped the book with his wand, lifting his arm to draw a shimmering silver filament.
"Whoa," George whistled. "You even know memory pulls? Impressive."
Fred mock-shivered, arms crossed tight. "Ravenclaw through and through. Gives me chills!"
George piled on. "Pensieves aren't cheap, though. Grandpa warned they're risky once they've held thoughts—echoes linger."
"We're older, tougher," Fred boasted. "We can take it. But you..."
George cut in. "Why not view ours first, then pull? Loses some detail, but safer all around."
Fred grinned. "Yeah! Wouldn't dream of endangering our star consultant."
"Memory extraction's no joke," Vizette cautioned. "It can backfire."
Fred waved it off. "Come on, you'd never hex us."
"Absolutely," George said, arms wide. "You've let us in on this epic vault. We trust you, mate."
"Alright." Vizette chuckled, shaking his head as he pulled out Serena's notebook. "I know where one's stashed. We'll portkey there with this."
Fred's eyes widened. "A Portkey? Fancy."
George eyed him appraisingly. "You've got a real wizard's inheritance going. Jealous!"
The trio activated the notebook, vanishing to the Pensieve chamber.
Fred gripped the basin's rim. "This screams top-shelf."
George agreed. "Beats the old one at Grandpa's. Ours looked like a soup pot next to this beauty."
"No clue," Fred said with a shrug. "Only one way to find out—dive in."
George bounced on his toes. "Vizette, dump those memories! We're primed and ready!"