Vizette cast the memory extraction spell as he explained. "Reviewing what you've gone through these past two days should help me pinpoint the effects of that new process—and what triggers it."
"I'm not pulling the memories out entirely, just copying a segment," he added. "No risk of any damage."
"It's fine, it's fine!" Filch said hastily. "No need to explain—I trust you!"
He was remarkably cooperative, letting him delve into his mind with little resistance. Even so, Vizette felt the subtle gulf between a Squib and a wizard during the extraction. It was elusive, like navigating a cracked riverbed—each pulse of magic felt halting and labored, far from Hagrid's brick-wall block.
Focusing his intent, he tapped into the core pump's ancient magic surge. The spell flowed smoothly, drawing out the relevant threads.
"Let's test this," Vizette said, threading the silvery strands into a vial. "What about yesterday? Something you remember sharply?"
Filch's face darkened, teeth grinding. "That Harry Potter! I'd just scrubbed the corridor spotless, and he traipses through in muddy boots!"
"The little sneak even rifled through my things—saw that letter for the quick-spells correspondence course. He knows my secret now!"
Vizette nodded. "Clear as day. No issues, then."
Filch blinked, puzzled. "What d'you mean? I don't follow..."
"I only copied the last two days' worth," he clarified. "If you still recall everything, the extraction worked perfectly."
"This... magic can do that?" Filch muttered, awe-struck.
To him, spells were practical tools—Scourgify for grime, Wingardium Leviosa for lifting, Accio for fetching. The course he'd enrolled in promised exactly that: everyday charms for a Squib's life. Deeper arts like memory work? Those were wizard secrets, worlds away from his Hogwarts-less existence.
---
Clutching the vial, Vizette headed to the Arcana, where the Weasley twins tinkered away. George was twirling a firework tube when he asked, "Where's your pet? It was here yesterday."
Fred pinched his nose, voice nasal. "Don't remind us. Still stings..."
George sighed dramatically. "Sacrificed itself for the greater prank."
Vizette recalled the fire salamander's traits—flame-fed, with wicked regeneration. "They thrive on fire and heal fast. Fireworks shouldn't faze one."
"Unless it's like Dr. Philippa's blooms," he ventured. "They ignite on water, defying the norm. Did the salamander balk at that twist... and burn out?"
George groaned, and the tube slipped from his fingers into a water glass. It sparked instantly.
Vizette reached for his wand, but Fred yelped, "No Vanishing Charm!"
Whoosh! The tube swelled, spewing sparks in a frenzy.
The twins slapped hands over their faces like pros. A pop followed—green and gold bursts erupted, mimicking a fiery geranium.
"Whirlwind Sweep!" Vizette flicked his wand, scattering the smoke.
"Cough... cough..."
Fred and George dropped their hands, faces smudged except for pristine palm prints, like grotesque masks. They burst into laughter, jabbing fingers at each other.
Vizette let them carry on until they wheezed to a halt, sides aching.
"Phew," Fred gasped, collapsing onto the table. "Nailed it."
"Aye," George agreed, ignoring the soot. "Worth the salamander's diet."
He peered up at him, bleary-eyed. "We fed it fireworks, it rocketed skyward... and bolted. Percy was scribbling a letter nearby—freaked at the racket and went spare."
"Letters, letters..." George muttered, brow furrowing. "He's been at it all summer. Dodgy as hell."
"Got a secret alright," Fred grinned. "I need my own owl—Errol's knackered from our orders."
"True," George said. "But this year's booming! Fred, reckon we'll crack it?"
Fred winked at Vizette. "Your Animagus notes are gold. Canary Cream trials are spot-on!"
George eyed the vial. "Memories? From who?"
"Filch," Vizette replied. "I etched a magical rune onto a fake wand for him..."
"Produced some odd effects," he continued. "Hoping to analyze them."
The twins lit up—gizmos were their jam.
"Trigger conditions for the rune?" George pressed.
"Effects?" Fred chimed in. "Where'd you snag it?"
"From house-elves," Vizette said. "Professor Lockhart mentioned they feed on ridicule, turning it to strength."
"Filch says the wand's charge doubled. With care, it might last ages."
…
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