The door to Professor McGonagaII’s office swings shut behind you with a sharp click. You stand between Fred and George, and judging by the look on McGonagaII’s face, she isn’t too pleased.

She folds her arms, lips pressed into a thin line. Her eyes—sharp enough to cut steel—move from Fred to George, then finally to you.

"Why is it," she says slowly, "that when something happens in this castle, it is always you three?"

You blink. Fred opens his mouth, but George elbows him. And somehow, you are the one who speaks first.

"Believe me, Professor," you say, lifting your hands in a helpless gesture, "I’ve been asking myself the same question for six years."

Fred snorts and George coughs suspiciously into his sleeve.

McGonagaII closes her eyes briefly, muttering something under her breath that sounds suspiciously like a prayer for patience.

"Sit," she orders.

The three of you drop into the seats like misbehaving children—which, to be fair, isn’t far off. Fred leans his elbow against the armrest, pretending to look bored. George props his chin in his hand, looking entirely unrepentant. You sit a little straighter, trying (and mostly failing) to look serious.

McGonagaII paces in front of her desk. "Vanishing all the doorknobs in the RavencIaw common room," she says crisply, "was a particularly creative form of sabotage."

Fred perks up. "We thought so too."

"It was meant to build character," George adds. "Teaches patience, perseverance…"

You clear your throat. "Creative problem-solving."

McGonagaII stops pacing and pins you with a look so fierce that you almost expect to burst into flames.

"And did it occur to any of you," she says, enunciating every word, "that locking half the student body in various stairwells might be slightly inconvenient?"

The three of you press your lips together tightly to avoid laughing.

"Detention. All three of you. Starting tomorrow."

"Worth it," Fred whispers.

George slings an arm around your shoulders. "Always worth it."