"The ability to see the future?" Fred blurted, his eyes going wide as saucers. "Merlin's beard, George, I think they're serious."
George stared at Tyler, then at Jamie, then back at Tyler again, looking as though half his mind was laughing and the other half was quietly panicking. The twins did not believe everything they were told, especially not when it sounded this absurd, but the Marauder's Map was different. That was their secret, a treasure they had never mentioned to their family, to Lee Jordan, or to anyone else at Hogwarts.
If Tyler knew about it, there had to be a reason. Either he had somehow spied on them without their noticing, which was impressive and worrying, or he really did know things he should not. For Fred and George, who lived for impossible tricks, the second explanation was just believable enough to be exciting.
"Tyler," Fred said suddenly, leaning closer with a hopeful grin. "Could you take a little look at our future?"
"Just a tiny peek," George added, clasping his hands together in exaggerated pleading. "A request from the depths of our souls. Possibly the most important request of our young and tragically underfunded lives."
Jamie glanced at them, then let his expression settle into something solemn and distant. He lifted his chin slightly, eyes unfocused as though he were staring past the busy Hogsmeade street and into some shining veil no one else could see. "Fred. George. I can already see your future."
Both twins snapped toward him at once. Their joking vanished so quickly that it was almost funny, replaced by raw curiosity and a kind of breathless hope they did not usually show. "What?" Fred demanded. "Really?"
"What do we become?" George asked, his voice lower than before. "Go on, tell us. Is it brilliant?"
Jamie held the silence for a moment, long enough to make them suffer. Around them, students wandered in and out of Honeydukes, shouted across the street, and argued about whether Zonko's or the Three Broomsticks should come first. None of that seemed to reach the twins now.
"Your future…" Jamie said slowly. "You will own a shop selling magical joke products. Not a small stall, not some shabby little corner in someone else's business, but your own proper shop. Your goods will sell well, your name will spread, and you will become rich."
Fred went completely still. George's mouth opened, then closed again, and for once neither of them had a joke ready. The words had struck somewhere too deep for their usual masks to cover.
"Oh my God," Fred breathed at last. "Merlin's beard. George, did you hear that?"
"I heard it," George said, his face lighting up in stunned delight. "Fred, we actually make it. We really do it."
The dream of opening a joke shop had lived quietly between them for years. They had not told their mother, because Molly Weasley would have declared it nonsense before they finished the sentence. They had not told Percy, because Percy would have written a speech about responsibility, exams, and stable Ministry careers. Even their other brothers did not know how seriously they meant it.
Pranks were not just games to Fred and George. They loved the craft behind them, the timing, the invention, the perfect moment when a ridiculous object turned an ordinary day upside down. A shop full of their own creations was not a silly fantasy to them; it was the shape of the future they wanted. Hearing Jamie speak it aloud felt like someone had reached inside their heads and read the part they guarded most carefully.
"But there is something else you need to remember," Tyler said.
The twins' excitement faltered. Tyler's voice had changed, and the lightness from earlier was gone. He looked at them with such seriousness that even Fred and George instinctively quieted.
"What is it?" Fred asked.
George straightened beside him, his grin fading into alert attention. They believed now, not in the vague, playful way they had believed a minute before, but with the uneasy certainty that Tyler and Jamie knew more than they should. The Marauder's Map had proved one thing. The joke shop had proved another.
"Until you are twenty," Tyler said carefully, "the two of you must not be separated during dangerous situations. Stay together as much as you can. If you are forced apart at the wrong time, your lives may be in danger."
For a heartbeat, Fred looked as if he might laugh. George did too, probably out of habit more than disbelief. They were twins, troublemakers, performers; making light of frightening things was practically a reflex.
Tyler did not smile. "This is not a joke. Before the age of twenty, there is a serious danger waiting for both of you. Whether you survive it may depend on the two of you facing it together. If you are separated, one or both of you could be badly hurt."
That landed properly. Fred and George exchanged a glance, and something quiet passed between them. They were not cowards, but they were not fools either, and Tyler's expression left no room for treating this like a dramatic fortune-telling act in the back of a pub.
"All right," Fred said at last. "We'll remember."
"We mean it," George added, nodding with rare solemnity. "We'll keep it in mind."
The seriousness lasted for almost three seconds.
"Well, George," Fred said, turning to his brother with a mournful sigh, "it seems we'll have to eat together, sleep together, bathe together, and even go to the loo together until we're twenty."
George shuddered theatrically. "Fred, people are going to misunderstand our bond. Worse, Percy might write a report about it."
Fred clicked his tongue. "Imagine the title. A Prefect's Concern Regarding Excessive Twin Togetherness."
George gasped. "Mum would frame it."
The tension broke. That was Fred and George's gift, not merely causing chaos, but turning fear sideways until it became something people could breathe through. Even if one moment they were shaken, the next they could find a joke and use it like a shield.
Jamie let them have it for a moment, then cleared his throat. "Right. Now that your tragic future of shared bathrooms has been addressed, let's return to the original topic. Are you willing to sell us the Marauder's Map?"
Fred's grin slid back into place, sly and bright. "Jamie, Jamie, Jamie. The Marauder's Map is our treasure. A priceless artefact of mischief, discovery, and irresponsible exploration. We would never sell it."
George nodded solemnly. "Never. Absolutely not. We have principles."
Tyler raised an eyebrow.
"But," George continued, his grin widening, "we can give it to you."
Fred reached carefully into his robes and drew out a folded piece of blank parchment. His movements were more respectful than Tyler had expected, as if the map really were a sacred object to them. In a way, perhaps it was.
"We didn't make it," Fred said, unfolding it enough to show the plain surface. "We found it in Filch's office. You'll meet Filch when you get to Hogwarts, and you'll hate him within five minutes."
"He's the caretaker," George said. "Nasty old misery of a man. Loves catching students out of bed, threatening punishments, and acting like breathing too loudly in a corridor is a crime."
"Still," Fred admitted, "we owe him a tiny bit of thanks. If he hadn't confiscated it from someone and hidden it away, we might never have found it."
"We had to work hard to figure out how to use it," George said. "Took ages. But since you two can apparently see the future, I suppose you already know the trick."
"Of course," Tyler said.
He took out his wand and tapped the blank parchment with the tip. His voice lowered, not because the spell required it, but because some words deserved to be spoken properly. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."
Ink bloomed across the parchment like veins of dark water. Fine lines spread from the centre, branching, curling, and linking together until corridors, staircases, classrooms, towers, and grounds emerged in delicate detail. Labels wrote themselves into place, and the outline of Hogwarts appeared as if the castle had been folded into paper.
The map was mostly empty now, because the students had not yet reached Hogwarts. Even so, its secrets were clear. It did not simply show rooms and halls. It revealed hidden passages, concealed doors, and the ways to open them, a perfect companion for anyone who believed rules were obstacles rather than commands.
"Because of this map, we found the secret passages in and out of Hogwarts," Fred said, watching the ink settle with fondness. "It's served us well."
"But now we know the routes," George said. "We've used them enough that we don't need to keep checking every step. The map deserves new hands, especially hands likely to cause trouble worthy of it."
Fred pointed at Tyler and Jamie in turn. "From what happened on the train, we can tell you two are our kind of people. Not ordinary rule-breakers. Proper mischief-makers."
"So we're giving it to you," George said with a bright smile. "Use it well. Don't waste it on boring things."
"Advance the noble cause of pranking," Fred added, nodding as if this were an official oath. "Make the founders proud, whoever they were."
Tyler accepted the parchment and looked down at the map for a moment. For something so thin and old, it carried an astonishing amount of possibility. In the right hands, it was freedom drawn in ink.
"All right," he said. "We'll accept the favour, but we won't take it for nothing. If you really plan to open that shop one day and you don't have enough funds, we can sponsor you."
Jamie smiled faintly beside him, already understanding where Tyler was going. Fred and George were not merely amusing; they were talented, brave, and creative in exactly the sort of way the wizarding world rarely knew how to value until it was too late. Backing them would not be charity.
"Of course," Tyler added with a smile, "we're optimistic about your future business, so we intend to invest."
.....
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