Catching Them Red-Handed

"Please tell me this isn't a dream, George."

When the black curtain was pulled aside and the flickering spectacle appeared before the twin brothers, the two who had been so pleased with themselves for successfully breaking into a mysterious Investigator's office froze on the spot!

They stared blankly at the wall, rubbing their eyes in disbelief, like Muggles who scorned magic witnessing a real spell for the first time. Their expressions were both absurd and comical.

"Sorry, brother—" George Weasley's lips moved weakly as he murmured. He blinked furiously, trying to comprehend the magnificent invention before him. "I can't give you any guarantees, but I think we've figured out exactly how Mr. Breen monitors all of Hogwarts from his office. All I can say is, this is insane!"

"Yeah, completely insane—"

Fred sounded as though he had been bewitched. He lowered his head to glance at the parchment in his hands, where countless words moved about, then fixed his gaze on the grid-like images again as his breathing gradually grew heavier.

"Our map can't hold a candle to this thing. Oh, but I still can't figure out how he managed all of it!"

It took the twins roughly ten minutes to barely drag themselves out of their endless shock. Once they regained their senses, the first thing they did was both throw themselves at the wall, as if they wanted to embed their eyes into it.

Overexcited, George's nose, which had nearly stopped bleeding, began to trickle blood again. But he paid no attention to his increasingly pale face or spinning head, focusing only on analyzing how Mr. Breen had created this epoch-making invention with Fred!

"—I'd bet Percy's Prefect Badge on it, Fred. There must be incredibly advanced Transfiguration involved!"

George's eyes gleamed with admiration. He kept poking the wall with his finger while his gaze roamed across its surface.

"There should be an Alchemical Device that transmits images from around the castle onto this Transfigured wall, then reconstructs them into pictures people can understand—"

"That's not all!"

Fred added loudly, "Look at the angles of these images, George. He must have installed at least several hundred Alchemical Devices for surveillance throughout the castle. Damn it, what could possibly have such an amazing function!"

The twins stood before the wall and discussed it without pause, analyzing the techniques that might have been used in this system. In the end, they reached the same conclusion: this surveillance setup drew upon magical knowledge from multiple disciplines, and that knowledge was so profound that it was beyond their current ability to understand!

"Do you think that if we asked sincerely, he might teach us how to do this?" Fred stared at the images with a hopeful expression. Suddenly, the map he and George had once treasured no longer seemed so appealing.

"There's one problem, brother—"

George covered his nose, his expression miserable. "If Mr. Breen has been sitting in his office watching everyone's movements, then does that mean...?"

The twins exchanged a look and both realized that their midnight adventures around the castle on several nights last week had probably been watched by Mr. Breen from beginning to end.

"He didn't report us to Professor McGonagall. Maybe he happened to be asleep when we were out wandering around." Fred's complexion was not much better, and even he could not believe his own guess.

Whatever reason Mr. Breen had for not exposing them, now was not the time to dwell on it. They had not forgotten that Amosta Breen would likely finish washing up and return to this surveillance room in about ten minutes. After drawing the curtain shut, Fred supported the dizzy George toward the door. But when his hand touched the handle and turned it, his expression became grief-stricken.

"I've got a very interesting piece of information, George, and I can't wait to share it with you!"

"I'm also very eager to hear this interesting information of yours, Fred," George said, squinting as he held his forehead. "But I'd prefer it if you waited until I'm lying in Madam Pomfrey's hospital bed before sharing it with me, Fred!"

"I'm afraid we won't make it that far—"

Fred twisted the handle hard again, but just as he expected, the bronze door handle did not move at all. "I think we've walked into a trap..."

A silent stillness descended. Fred and George looked at each other awkwardly, each seeing the same extraordinary foolishness glittering in the other's eyes.

A wizard entrusted with an important mission by the Board of Governors and sent into the school to investigate the dangerous opener of the Chamber of Secrets had to be experienced. How could such a wizard possibly be careless enough to leave this extremely important surveillance room unguarded?

Ten seconds later, the rescue operation began!

George broke free of Fred's support. Standing three feet apart, they drew their wands and pointed them at the door handle. After exchanging determined looks, they shouted together,

"Shattering Curse!"

A dim glow rippled like water across the round door handle, then vanished into silence again. Nothing changed.

"Damn that crafty bastard!" Fred cursed through clenched teeth. "He planned all along to catch any young wizard who broke into his office, didn't he?!"

Still unwilling to give up, Fred and George tried several more times, but it was useless. Every spell was blocked by the powerful defensive enchantments on the door. Fred anxiously glanced at the parchment in his hand, then chose the most primitive method—pulling with all his strength, hoping to force open the tightly shut door.

"Don't do anything stupid, Fred!" George's gaze swept around the room before quickly locking onto the window in the wall facing the Forbidden Forest. "Come help me, brother. Maybe we can escape from here!"

"Are you mad, George?" Fred said in astonishment, his eyes wide. "This is the third floor. I'd rather get caught by the Investigator and handed over to Professor McGonagall than jump down and break my neck!"

Though he said that, Fred still jogged after George to the window.

But after another frantic struggle, the two collapsed onto the floor and gave up completely.

"Can you believe it, George?" Fred clawed wildly at his hair, his face full of despair. "What normal person puts protective spells on the windows too?!"

Amosta emerged from the prefects' bathroom with wet hair, looking to be in quite a good mood. As he passed the statue of Boris the Bewildered, he even hummed a tuneless little song.

Honestly, he somewhat regretted not asking Professor Snape to let him become a prefect when he had been in school. Being a prefect really did grant privileges that ordinary young wizards could never enjoy. Setting everything else aside, the enormous bathroom he had been using lately—its floor entirely paved with luxurious snow-white marble and large enough to resemble a swimming pool—was enough to make anyone envious!

The only unpleasant thing was that the Mermaid Portrait on the wall, though normally fast asleep, always liked to secretly open its eyes and inspect his eight well-defined abdominal muscles whenever he closed his eyes to relax. It left Amosta feeling rather awkward.

There were still two minutes before the young wizards would be dismissed from class. Amosta strolled leisurely from the sixth floor down to the third. At last, he flicked his wand from his sleeve and stood smiling outside his office door, his voice incomparably cheerful.

"Well then, let me unveil the mysterious face of the one who committed the crime!"

Why hadn't I even gotten a trial recommendation yet? So unhappy—