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The abandoned classroom smelled of old parchment, dried ink, and dust.
The Weasley twins had turned it into their own clever little workshop. Several battered but reasonably clean desks were pushed together, piled high with their latest "experiments": jars of colorful liquids bubbling suspiciously, half-finished pieces of weird magical gadgets, and old textbooks with burned covers or doodles scrawled all over them.
Quidditch team posters were taped to the walls, along with a large portrait of Percy as Head Boy that Fred had crossed out in big red ink.
Right now, George Weasley was lounging comfortably in a creaky armchair, feet propped on another chair, casually tossing a fake Galleon that let out tiny squeals every time it flipped.
Fred stood at one of the desks, directing a sweaty but eager Ron.
"A little to the left—yeah, that purple bottle. Careful, Ronniekins. That's concentrated Ultimate Swamp solution. If you spill it, the three of us will be rowing around this classroom tonight," Fred said in an exaggerated drawl.
Ron carefully set the glass bottle with the purple label on the designated shelf, wiped the sweat from his forehead, and flashed a nearly ingratiating smile.
"Don't worry, Fred, I've got it! Anything else that needs sorting? Should I organize the experiment notes? Want me to clear out the scrap first?"
George burst out laughing from his chair. "Look at our dear little brother—so hardworking! It's like he's a completely different person! If we'd known a new wand would make him this… helpful, we should've tried it ages ago."
"Exactly," Fred stroked his chin, pretending to think. "Maybe we should start a side business: Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes—now with Little Brother Taming Service?"
Ron's face flushed red, but the thought of the shiny new wand from Ollivanders—the one with a unicorn hair core and willow wood—made him swallow his comeback. He just muttered, "Say whatever you want… as long as you don't forget my new wand."
It had all started a few days earlier.
During one Battle Royale match, Ron's old wand had betrayed him again. A perfectly aimed Tickling Charm backfired at the worst possible moment, leaving him laughing helplessly on the ground while his opponent easily knocked him out of the game.
The twins "just happened" to be passing by. Fred slung an arm around Ron's shoulders with a dramatic, sorrowful expression that was clearly fake.
"Ronnie, look at you. A Weasley man can't let a disobedient stick hold him back. Your big brothers just came into a bit of money. Time to show some real brotherly love!"
George jumped in right on cue. "That's right! Your own proper wand—one that actually listens! Imagine it, Ron—no more backfiring spells, no more choking at the critical moment. You'll be a star in the Battle Royale! Might even make your broom listen better during Quidditch tryouts!"
Under the twins' vivid descriptions and glowing promises about the new wand, Ron's attitude had done a complete 180 in just a few days.
He fetched tea, sorted messy experimental materials, and even volunteered to test some of the "relatively safe" prank products.
When his hair turned bright blue and took three washes to fade, he endured it without complaint.
All for the new wand that had been promised but not yet delivered—the one that seemed to shine with the light of hope.
"Don't worry, Ron. Ollivander already wrote back," Fred said, thumping his chest. "That willow-and-unicorn-hair wand is full of gentle resilience. Perfect for a wizard with determination and loyalty. Sounds like it was made for you! Once we finish this batch of protective lenses and Professor pays the final installment, we'll take you straight to Diagon Alley!"
Ron's eyes shone even brighter. He worked even harder.
Just then, the wooden door of their secret base—concealed with a Disillusionment Charm and a simple alarm spell—creaked open a crack.
A small, red-haired figure slipped inside. It was Ginny Weasley.
But the moment her three brothers saw her, they froze.
Ginny's face was as white as a sheet. Her usually bright brown eyes were red and swollen, brimming with tears. Her long, thick lashes were clumped together from crying. She was biting her lower lip, shoulders trembling slightly, knuckles white as she clutched her wand.
She looked like she had just gone through something terrifying and painful, wrapped in an aura of pure helplessness and fear.
"Ginny?!" Ron was the first to react. He dropped the bundle of fizzing fireworks fuses and rushed over. "What happened? Who hurt you?!"
Fred and George practically leaped out of their seats at the same time. The playful grins vanished from their faces, replaced by the fierce, protective anger of lions whose territory had been invaded.
In the Weasley family, Ginny was the only girl—the little sister all six brothers cherished.
Their parents doted on her, even stuffy Percy softened around her, and the twins and Ron had "protect little sister" practically branded into their bones.
Seeing her like this, their tempers flared instantly.
Fred crossed the room in one stride, crouched down in front of her, and spoke with rare gentleness. But fire burned in his eyes.
"Ginny, sweetheart, tell your brothers—what happened? Which idiot dared make you cry? I swear I'll make him regret being born at Hogwarts—no, regret being born at all!"
George moved in too, his wand already sliding into his hand. He scanned her from head to toe, checking for injuries, his voice soft but tight with tension.
"Take your time, Ginny. We're here. No one can hurt you."
Ron's face turned beet red, fists clenched. "Was it Malfoy? Or some other Slytherin git? I'll go find him right now!"
Surrounded by her brothers' obvious concern and anger, Ginny's tears fell even harder.
She sobbed, her voice shaky and broken. "N-no, it wasn't anyone else… it was… it was me… I think… I'm the one who… let the monster out…"
The three brothers stared at each other, stunned.
"What monster? Ginny, slow down and explain," George said, putting a hand on Fred's shoulder to calm him while moving closer.
Ginny wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and tried to get the words out.
"Before term started… in Diagon Alley… inside my second-hand textbook… there was a diary… black cover, looked really old… It talked to me… wrote back when I wrote in it…"
"A talking diary?" Ron frowned. The idea sounded vaguely familiar.
But Fred and George's faces changed instantly.
They exchanged an extremely serious look. Professor Viktor's final warning from the Duelling Club rang clearly in their minds:
"Stay vigilant—especially around any magical object that tries to think for you, gives you special powers, or offers secret knowledge…"
Ginny kept sobbing. "At first… I thought it was fun… so I chatted with it… told it about Hogwarts… about my worries… and… and Harry Potter…"
Her face flushed slightly at Harry's name, but the deeper fear quickly swallowed it.
"But later… the more I wrote… the weirder it felt… Sometimes in class or at meals, I'd suddenly zone out… When I came back to myself, I couldn't remember what had just happened… Other times I'd wake up in the morning… my robes dirty, mud on my hands… but I had no memory of going out at night…"
"Like sleepwalking?" George asked, his voice deadly serious now, all trace of joking gone.
Ginny nodded hard, fresh tears spilling over.
"I… I started getting scared… Then after hearing Professor Scamander's warning… I got even more frightened… Yesterday afternoon, I threw it away… tossed it into that old unused broom cupboard on the fifth floor…"
"Good job, Ginny!" Ron blurted, thinking his sister had done the right thing.
"But… but today the more I thought about it…"
Ginny's voice was thick with dread and guilt.
"I felt like I should tell a professor… whatever it was, the adults needed to know… So during lunch break, I went back to get it… I wanted to pick it up and hand it over to Professor McGonagall or Professor Scamander…"
She looked up, her tear-filled eyes full of terror.
"But… it was gone! The cupboard was empty! I searched every corner… it had disappeared!"
"Someone took it?" Fred asked sharply, eyes narrowing.
"Or… it left on its own," George said, his voice cold as ice.
A diary that could talk, influence someone's mind, and possibly control their actions—this matched the description perfectly.
Seeing her brothers' unusually grave—and almost frightening—expressions, Ginny grew even more scared. She cried harder, gasping between sobs.
"I'm so scared… I don't know what it really was… but I feel like the things happening in the castle lately… Mrs. Norris being petrified… and all those rumors about the monster… might be connected to me… I brought it here… I wrote in it so much… Did I… accidentally wake it up? Did I… hurt everyone?"
The overwhelming guilt and fear threatened to drown her.
As a first-year facing something so strange and terrifying, the psychological pressure had pushed her to her limit.
"No, Ginny, this isn't your fault!" Ron rushed to comfort her. "You didn't know what that thing was!"
But Fred and George didn't offer immediate comfort. Their faces were deadly serious. The twin bond let them understand each other's thoughts in an instant.
This was far more serious than any prank or adventure they'd ever dealt with.
It involved the Chamber of Secrets, the monster inside it, and the very real possibility that their little sister had been influenced—or even controlled—by the thing.
They couldn't let Ginny stay like this, and they couldn't risk her coming into contact with any lingering effects.
She needed to be taken immediately to someone who could handle this—someone absolutely safe and capable.
No words were needed. In a split second, Fred and George reached complete agreement.
Fred shot George a tiny signal with his eyes. His fingers twitched slightly behind his back.
George gave an almost imperceptible nod.
While Ginny was still crying too hard to see clearly and Ron was awkwardly trying to pat her shoulder—
"Stupefy!" George's wand rose silently. A soft red light shot out and struck Ginny precisely.
"Incarcero!" Almost simultaneously, Fred whipped a tough, faintly glowing binding strap from his seemingly ordinary but heavily enchanted pocket.
The strap had originally been for testing an "auto-packaging" product. With a flick of his wrist, it shot out like a living snake.
The instant Ginny's body went limp from the Stunning Spell, the strap wrapped around her from shoulders to ankles in a blur of motion.
In the blink of an eye, Ginny was cocooned like a red chrysalis, only her pale, tear-streaked sleeping face visible. The magical bindings held her securely, floating a foot off the ground.
"What the hell are you doing?!" Ron exploded, lunging at Fred. "Let her go! Have you gone mad?! That's Ginny!"
Fred easily blocked Ron's swinging fist. His face was more serious and urgent than Ron had ever seen.
"Shut up, Ron! No time to explain! This is serious—way more serious than you think! Ginny might be in danger right now. We have to get her to someone who can fix this immediately!"
"Get her to who? What are you going to do with her?" Ron demanded, still struggling in shock and anger.
George had already levitated the mummy-wrapped Ginny so she floated steadily. He looked at Ron and spoke rapidly.
"We're taking her to Professor Viktor! Only he and Headmaster Dumbledore might know how to deal with a talking dark magical object! Ginny's been influenced by it—we don't know if there's anything still left in her mind or on her body. Knocking her out and isolating her is the safest thing we can do right now! Come on, stop wasting time!"
With that, Fred shoved the stunned Ron aside. He and George hurried out of the abandoned classroom, guarding the floating red cocoon as they raced toward Professor Viktor Scamander's office on the second floor.
Ron stood frozen for a second, watching his brothers' unprecedented seriousness and his sister being carried away wrapped up like that. His mind was still a mess, but a surge of worry and the urgent need to follow drove him to run after them.
"Wait for me! Fred! George! What the hell is going on?!"
In the corridor, the three red-haired boys—one of them towing a floating red cocoon—drew curious glances from the few students they passed.
But the twins didn't care about secrecy or explanations anymore. Their only goal was to reach Viktor Scamander as fast as possible.
As they ran, Fred muttered to George, his voice tight with worry and dread.
"That diary—if it really is that thing… Ginny wrote in it for months… Merlin's beard…"
George's face was equally grim. "The sleepwalking… waking up dirty… it probably wasn't sleepwalking at all. We need the professor to check her memories, look for any curse traces on her… And we have to find that missing diary right away!"
Their eyes met. Both saw the same cold determination in the other.
Whoever had that diary now, whatever it was—if it had hurt their sister and threatened all of Hogwarts, the Weasley brothers would not let it go.
Protecting family and defending Hogwarts had become the exact same thing in that moment.
Their hurried footsteps echoed through the castle corridors, racing toward the one place that might hold answers—and hope.