Challenge 6: Twists and Turns

Write a drabble that feautres a major plot twist.

Note: I originally wanted to use this plot for a longer story, but it worked here, and I was pressed for time.

Title: The Usual Suspect

Nobody was quite sure where the fireworks came from at first.

They seemed to appear out of thin air, going off sporadically during classes, dinner, in the Slytherin dormitories, at one in the morning—it never seemed to end. The entire student body was lectured at least ten times the first week, and when no one came forward, teachers started calling all the usual suspects in for questioning and randomly taking away house points, depending on what group of students had been spotted nearest the source of the rogue fireworks.

This led to no answers, an increase in fireworks, and, strangely, all the house point hourglasses being emptied of their jewels and filled with chocolate pudding.

Minerva McGonagall was the first one to suspect that perhaps this was not the work of a hapless student.

She found Nearly Headless Nick the third time a round of firecrackers woke her up in the middle of the night, following a nasty hunch. Gryffindor House’s ghost was drifting along outside the library when Minerva, clad in her favorite tartan robe, marched up to him.

“Where is he, Nick?” she barked. Nearly Headless Nick surveyed her warily, eyes darting nervously.

“I wanted to tell you, Headmistress!” Nick said hastily. “I did! But the Bloody Baron said it was no business of ours to meddle…I tried reasoning with the boy, but it’s no use. He makes Peeves look like a timid, unsuspecting Hufflepuff first year!” Minerva sighed heavily, rubbing her temples.

“I’ll repeat, Nick: where is he?”

--

Minerva found him on the third floor, floating aimlessly along the corridor. He turned when he heard her footsteps, and his hair was just as fiery red as it had been in life.

“Hullo, Professor,” he said, grinning as irreverently as always. “I wondered when you’d figure it out.”

“Mr. Weasley.” Minerva rubbed her temples again. “Why…?”

“Long story short,” Fred Weasley said lightly, “I like it better here. Got to make sure no cheeky little git out-pranks good old George and me.” Minerva didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“I just have two questions,” she said after a moment. “One: where did you get the fireworks?”

“We stashed a big supply of them in one of the abandoned secret passages.” Fred chuckled reminiscently. “We’re bloody lucky nothing set them off before now.”

”Quite,” Minerva agreed dryly. “Now, two: when are you planning to stop driving us all barmy?”

”Never,” Fred replied, his smile widening. “That’s what I’m here for, isn’t it?” Minerva rolled her eyes despairingly.

“See that you stop waking me at three in the morning, at least,” she said, turning to leave. “Good

night, Mr. Weasley.”

“G’night, Professor!” Fred called after her. “Don’t worry. I’m planning to use up the rest of the fireworks tomorrow in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. I’ve been saving these ones for last—they’re waterproof, you know.”

Despite herself, Minerva McGonagall chuckled fondly, heart aching a little less, and left Fred Weasley to do what he did best.