Harry Potter books, and all characters therein belong to J. K. Rowling, © 2001/2002 Warner bros. In short, they aren't mine, so please don't sue.
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Mischief makers

By Kirkis

 

            Peeves had been at Hogwarts for more than a century. As a poltergeist, he was never very welcome with any Headmaster. Though, no Headmaster had been quite as lenient as Albus Dumbledore. Peeves sometimes called him Dumblesnore, but never to his face. In reality, Peeves was quite fond of the eccentric Headmaster, as fond as a poltergeist can be, that is. But Peeves had to admit as the sun rose in the east, the events of the night before didn’t sit well with him. Headmaster Dumbledore had been forced to flee or face arrest for plotting against the Ministry of Magic. That would’ve been funny enough if not for the fact that it wouldn’t be the tight haired and even tighter personality of Minerva McGonagall that would be taking old Dumblesnore’s place, but the fat, ugly and completely devoid-of-a-sense-of-humor Umbridge, affectionately christened Dumbridge the night before by Peeves.

 

            Dumbridge had come to the school on Ministry orders to straighten Hogwarts out. At first, Peeves assumed she would be like any other teacher, but the more the year progressed, the more and more Peeves began to see two sides at Hogwarts. The ones who sided with Dumbridge, Filthy Finky Filch and Dumbridge herself, and those who sided with Dumblesnore, which included, as far as he could tell, the rest of the staff. Peeves had refused to officially take sides as both sides were authority figures.

 

            The Slytherins, who had sucked up to her from day one, were walking about the school with smug looks on their faces. Peeves was never fond of Slytherins, bellying up to anyone who had power and was willing to give them a slice. He never cared much for Gryffindors at that, always acting cocky like they were the cream of the school. Hufflepuffs spent too much time toiling over school work, or rather being friendly with anyone who would sit near. Ravenclaws were probably the most boring of all. Too much wit, Peeves always thought.

 

            As Peeves sailed down a corridor on the first floor, his hands cupped behind his head, he reminisced about years past. In times of greatest boredom, usually when Filthy Filch was trying to get him thrown out, he remembered four youngsters that always managed to keep him entertained. They called themselves Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs. Padfoot was always Peeves’ favorite. They made such mischief when they were at Hogwarts, that by the time they left, Peeves was actually sorry to see them go. He flipped over in air and glanced down the corridor, catching sight of a pair of bright red heads.

 

            “Wheezy Weasleys!” Peeves sang to himself, kicking forward toward them. They were the closest thing to Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs that had come through Hogwarts since, and were currently being accosted by a stocky and very ugly Slytherin with a prefect badge.

 

            “Oi, Weasleys! Can’t be wearing your robes open like that!” said the Slytherin snidely. “That’s-“ Peeves was about to swoop down and tie all their shoelaces together when both the Weasley twins grabbed the Slytherin straight off the ground and turned him head first toward an old vanishing cabinet. With a heave, they shoved him inside and slammed the door.

 

            “Lackey!” one of them shouted at the cabinet. The both caught sight of Peeves floating above and grinned.

 

            “Where he goes, nobody knows,” the other one said to Peeves. Then, both of them laughing, they headed off down the corridor. Peeves stared for a moment at the Vanishing Cabinet and then, quite suddenly, started laughing.

 

            He decided to head down to the entrance hall to pelt the students and staff with bogies as they were going in for breakfast. No sooner had he floated down the Marble staircase, a loud boom rattled the walls. A second later, a dragon made entirely of sparkling fireworks flew out of a broom closet, closely followed by some fifty or sixty different fireworks all whizzing and screaming around the entrance hall. Through the din of noise and student running this way and that, Peeves caught sight of the two Weasley twins hurrying out of the broom closet and down into the dungeons. Peeves flipped over a few times in the air, laughing his head off. He hadn’t laughed so hard in twenty years at least.

 

Making Mischief

 

            The fireworks took all of three days for Dumbridge and Filthy Filchy to get rid of. Peeves especially liked it when Dumbridge would go chasing after the ones that spelled out profanity. In the end, neither Filthy Filch or Dumbridge managed to actually stop any profane fireworks, as every attempt to either destroy or vanish them caused them to explode with surprising force, or duplicate. The Weasley twins had outdone themselves, and Peeves was just thinking that they had come damn near close to outdoing him. “Not quite, though, Wheezys,” Peeves said to no one in particular the morning after the fourth day.

 

            Peeves decided to play knock and run on some of the classroom doors. One in particular, he thought, as he pounded as loudly as he could on the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom door. Like a rocket, he shot off down the hall and hid in a suit of armor, cackling as the door opened and Dumbridge stuck her fat toad head out.

 

            “I’ll have you out of here, Peeves!” she shouted down the hall.

 

            “Must first catch me, your Headmistressship!” he sang, whizzing past her classroom door.

 

            As the day wore on, Peeves had started looking for a great way to wreak havoc on the school at large, but more specifically, on Dumbridge and Filthy Flichy. He was busy pelting passing students with slugs when he heard a commotion from above in the charms hall. He sailed around the corner and up a flight of stairs onto the most chaotic scene he had ever witnessed at Hogwarts. Twelve students were mired in a full fledged swamp in the middle of the charms corridor. Old Flitwick was fishing people out by magic.

 

            “Oh Flittywick, made such an error now all the students are full of terror!”

 

            “Oh, no Peeves, I believe the culprits are cornered in the entrance hall,” said Flitwick, chuckling slightly as he levitated students out of the bog. Peeves shot off toward the entrance hall, arriving just in time to see a mass of Slytherins surrounding non other than the Weasley twins.

 

            “Wheezy Weasleys!” said Peeves in a singsong voice. The Weasleys had made the charms corridor into a swamp. Peeves was quite impressed, they once again had outdone themselves. He flipped over in mid air, grabbed his legs, put his head between his legs, and blew a huge raspberry at Dumbridge.

 

            “So,” said Dumbridge, ignoring Peeves. She slowly started descending the staircase. “So… you think it amusing to turn a school corridor into a swamp, do you?”

 

            “Pretty amusing, yeah,” said one of the Weasleys, grinning from ear to ear. Peeves chuckled overhead, still watching.

 

            “I’ve got the form, Headmistress,” said Filch, looking happier than he’d ever looked. Peeves noted that it also made him uglier than he’d ever looked. “I’ve got the form and I’ve got the whips waiting… Oh, let me do it now…” Filch was quite a sickening sight when he was pleading.

 

            “Very good Argus,” said Dumbridge, turning her attention back to the Weasleys. “You two are about to learn what happens to wrongdoers in my school.” Peeves suddenly wanted nothing more than to help the Weasleys escape their dire fate, but helping a student would ruin his reputation. Still, he thought, if ever two students deserved my help it’s the Wheezy Weasleys.” He had all but decided to swoop down and clear a path for them, when one of them, still smiling, spoke to Dumbridge.

 

            “You know what,” he said, “I don’t think we are.” He turned to the other and spoke. “George, I think we’ve outgrown full-time education.”

 

            “Yeah, I’ve been feeling that way myself,” said the other merrily.

 

            “Time to test our talents in the real world, d’you reckon?” asked the first one.

 

            “Definitely.”

 

            The next thing anyone knew, the pair of Weasley had shouted “Accio Brooms!” and a loud crash echoed through the corridor above. Two broomsticks came whizzing around the corner, nearly knocking Potty Potter over. The brooms came to a standstill straight in front of the Weasleys.

 

            “We won’t be seeing you,” said one, throwing his leg over his broomstick.

 

            “Yeah, don’t bother to keep in touch,” said the other, climbing onto his own broomstick.

 

            “If anyone fancies buying a Portable Swamp, as demonstrated upstairs,” said one of the twins, “come to number ninety-three, Diagon Alley - Weasley’ Wizarding Wheezes. Our new premises!”

 

            “Special discounts to Hogwarts students who swear they’re going to use our products to get rid of this old bat,” said the other twin, pointing up at Dumbridge. This was definitely the most fun Peeves had ever had at Hogwarts, and it occurred to him as the Weasleys shot straight up into the air to avoid the Slytherins as they closed in below, that the Weasleys might’ve just outdone even him. Might’ve…

 

            One of the twins looked across toward Peeves and shouted, “Give her hell from us, Peeves.” Of all the students Peeves had thought were a barrel of laughs, these two, by far had gone to the greatest lengths to cause the maximum amount of havoc in Hogwarts. With their parting request of continued mischief, Peeves realized he actually felt respect for these two fine mischief makers. He flipped himself upright, snapped his heels together and gave a crisp salute.

 

            With that, the Weasleys, Fred and George Weasley, shot out of the open door and into the setting sun. Peeves turned his eyes slowly upon the crowd gathered in the entrance hall, but mainly to Dumbridge and Filthy Filchy, a wide grin spreading across his face.