Who on earth would be visiting at this hour?
Maurise set his book aside, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. He walked to the entrance of the dormitory and pulled the door open.
"Oh. It's you, Prefect Hilliard."
Standing there was indeed the Ravenclaw Prefect, Robert Hilliard.
"It's getting late. Is something the matter?" Maurise asked.
"Good evening, Maurise," Robert said, his voice carrying a note of weary resignation. "There are two people waiting for you outside the common room entrance. It's that pair of red-headed twins from the Gryffindor third year."
"Looking for me?" Maurise blinked in surprise. "Did they say why?"
The Weasley twins showing up unannounced... Could something be wrong with the baby Acromantula?
"I haven't the faintest idea," Robert shook his head. "But they tracked me down specifically to fetch you. They look rather frantic, so perhaps you ought to go see what the fuss is about immediately. They don't appear to be looking for a fight, for once."
"Understood. Sorry for the trouble, Robert."
"Think nothing of it," Robert offered a faint, polite smile. "Just remember to be back before curfew. I'd rather not have to write you up."
He paused, his expression turning serious. "And Maurise? Do try not to get swept up in whatever chaos they are brewing. Those two lost nearly half of Gryffindor's house points last year. I have no desire to see a Ravenclaw follow in those disastrous footsteps."
Whatever those two do, they certainly do it with notoriety, Maurise thought.
Maurise stepped out of the Ravenclaw common room and descended the spiral staircase. Sure enough, two distinct shocks of red hair were waiting at the bottom.
The Weasley twins.
They were pacing back and forth in front of the entrance, their expressions anxious and their strides perfectly synchronized. It was like watching a mirror pace against itself.
Maurise opened his mouth to greet them, only to realize he had absolutely no idea which one was George and which one was Fred.
True to their reputation, even their expressions of panic were carbon copies of one another.
"Maurise!"
One of the Weasleys spotted him and immediately lunged forward, his tone grave. "The worst possible thing has happened."
"Hold your horses," Maurise raised a hand. "First, tell me if you are George or Fred. Otherwise, this conversation is going to get very confusing very quickly."
"I'm Fred," the boy replied, sounding slightly defeated that his identity was the first hurdle.
"Excellent. My guess was correct," Maurise nodded with satisfaction. "So, what's the catastrophe? Let me guess... the Acromantula escaped?"
The twins exchanged a wide-eyed look.
"How did you know?" Fred asked, genuinely shocked.
"Lucky guess," Maurise smiled faintly, "mostly because you two don't exactly exude an aura of responsible pet ownership."
"Hey!" Fred clutched his chest, feigning deep injury. "Is that really how you see us?"
George silently produced the wooden box that had previously housed the spider.
On the side of the box, which Maurise had created using Transfiguration, there was now a gaping, jagged hole. The edges were rough and splintered, looking as though something had violently chewed and clawed its way out.
"We left the box in the Charms classroom by mistake," George explained hurriedly. "The little blighter must have broken out while we were at dinner. It doesn't have venom yet, but apparently, its mandibles are strong enough to tear through wood. We've searched the entire area, but nothing. It's small, and this castle has a million hiding spots."
"Is it really that big of a deal?" Maurise asked, unperturbed. "I mean, a spider that size is practically harmless."
"Probably," Fred admitted. "But there are always students who can't handle creepy-crawlies."
"Like our dear little brother," George said, a wicked grin suddenly breaking through his anxiety.
"Ah, yes. Little Ron," Fred's face mirrored the grin.
Seeing them stand there giggling at the thought of their brother's terror, Maurise raised an eyebrow. "Then what exactly are you worried about? If someone sees it, they'll just squash it or capture it. We can just play dumb."
To Maurise, this didn't seem like a crisis requiring an emergency house call. Sure, the spider was bigger than a human head, but it was just a spider. In the grand scheme of things, spiders were beneficial insects. If it eats mosquitoes, why bother it?
"If a professor finds it, we're in deep trouble," Fred's grin vanished, replaced by a serious frown. "Privately breeding or transporting unauthorized Class X dangerous magical creatures, even a baby one, is a violation of school rules. We could even be breaking Ministry laws."
"If that thing is running loose in the castle," George added, "it doesn't matter if it's dangerous or not. If a teacher spots it, they will investigate where it came from. And no matter how well we cover our tracks, they have ways of finding the culprits. Trust us, we've learned that the hard way."
Maurise finally understood.
The twins weren't worried about the spider hurting someone; they were worried about the spider being the breadcrumb trail that led back to them. If the faculty investigated, the trail would lead to the Weasleys, and by extension, perhaps to Maurise who transfigured the box.
Maurise sighed. "Alright, I see your point. We have to find the fugitive before the staff does. You said it went missing near the Charms corridor?"
"Right," Fred confirmed. "But we've already tossed that room. We need to expand the search radius."
"Let's go," Maurise took the lead, heading down the corridor. "We'll stick to the teaching wing for now."
The majority of Hogwarts' classrooms were concentrated on the second, third, and fourth floors of the main castle, as well as in the various towers.
For a first-year student, navigating this labyrinth was a nightmare; one wrong turn meant missing a class. At night, however, the teaching wing was eerily silent. Even the portraits on the walls were snoozing in their frames. Fortunately, the magical torches in the sconces remained lit, casting a dim, flickering glow over the stone floors.
Maurise and the twins decided against splitting up. At this hour, Argus Filch, the caretaker, would be patrolling the castle with his miserable cat, Mrs. Norris. If they ran into him, three heads were better than one for fabricating an excuse.
Even if they were caught, it wouldn't be the end of the world. It was only eight o'clock. Curfew didn't start for another hour.
Fred scanned every dark corner and crevice where a spider might nestle, chatting to break the tension. "At this time of night, most students are back in their common rooms. Even if someone spotted the spider, it wouldn't cause a mass panic."
"The problem is tomorrow morning," George whispered, peering behind a suit of armor. "Breakfast time. The corridors will be packed. If it skitters out then and scares a first-year, or worse, if it decides to take a nip out of Snape's ankles, we are finished."
"Snape?" Maurise asked. "Who's that?"
"Our Potions Master," Fred grimaced. "Severus Snape. Head of Slytherin House. A greasy, miserable bat of a man who lives to deduct points from Gryffindor. You haven't had his class yet? Just wait. You won't like him."
Maurise silently filed that name away for later.
They finished searching two classrooms and returned to the main corridor.
Still nothing.
"Where on earth could it have gone?" Fred sighed, running a hand through his hair.
"AAAAIIIIEEEE!"
Suddenly, a high-pitched, blood-curdling scream echoed from the adjacent corridor, shattering the silence of the castle.
The three of them froze instantly, exchanging a look of pure dread.
"That came from over there!"
The twins didn't hesitate; they bolted toward the source of the scream.