Disclaimer: Mine. All mine. Oh…sorry are we not still talking about my cold sore? In that case, it's er…not.

A/N: I wanted to try something new. Here goes...

1990, Filch's Office.

"We're in for it this time."

Fred shrugged. "He's been wanting us out since we stepped off the train, I wouldn't worry about it. We're still here, aren't we? Besides, it was only a dungbomb."

George smiled back. "And we've got one left."

He spied the cabinet at the end of the room. It was dusty and somewhat neglected. Fred Weasley would probably have ignored it if he had not caught sight of the words 'Confiscated and Highly Dangerous' inked on the side. He grabbed his twin's shoulders and rotated him.

"Look at that."

George slowly grinned. "So how do we-"

"-get in it. It's probably-"

"-locked."

Fred shrugged. "Anything is possible-"

"-if you've got enough nerve."

Gingerly, George pulled the handle toward him, taking a step back and putting some weight into it.

"Alohamora."

The drawer - and George - flew towards the door. George scrambled to his feet, watching his brother peer into the dusty depths of the cabinet. Expecting glory and riches and, if they were lucky, dungbombs, the twins stared in horror at an empty drawer.

"So that's why he's such an idiot. He's just looking for something to put in here."

Fred frowned. "Oh no, look!" He pulled out a ragged, yellowed piece of parchment. "Highly dangerous?"

Filch's footsteps echoed along the hallway outside. The twins froze and looked to one another, to the parchment and finally the open drawer.

"This could look a bit suspicious, Fred."

Fred nodded. "Better use the last of the dungbombs then."

George gawped. "On that?"

Fred nodded. "There has to be a reason Filch confiscated it."

"It's Filch. He doesn't need a reason. Once something's fun, bam! It's gone."

"Exactly."

George grinned back at his twin and ran towards the door, flinging the last of their dungbombs in the general direction of Filch's voice.

"Now run!"

"Open."

"Fred?"

Fred tapped it with his wand.

"Open, you bloody thing."

"Fred?"

Refusing to believe the parchment was not merely stubborn, Fred continued to hit it.

"Fred? Do you think maybe it's just a piece of parchment?"

Fred sighed and picked up his quill. "Well, let's see, shall we?" Are you useless?

Finally, the map stirred. Most certainly not, you ignorant little worm.

Mr. Wormtail would like to say that he finds that highly offensive.

Mr. Padfoot would like to say that he honestly couldn't give a rat's arse.

Mr. Wormtail would like to add that Mr. Padfoot is not only being incredibly rude to Mr. Filch, but also that he is now deliberately antagonising me.

Mr. Moony would like to sigh.

Fred laughed incredulously. "Look! See, I told you it wasn't just a piece of parchment." I am not Filch.

Mr. Prongs would like to remind you that you would say that even if you were.

George stared down at it, tracing a finger along the space that had absorbed Fred's ink. "But what does it do?"

Fred shrugged. "I don't know, but I like these people." What does this thing do?

It's a map.

"So it's an invisible map then; like the Invisible Book of Invisibility?"

"Looks like."

How do I open it?

Mr. Padfoot would like to debate your loyalty.

Mr. Prongs would like identification.

"I don't know who these men are, Fred, but I bet they don't know you."

Fred and George Weasley.

Mr. Moony would like you to state your intentions.

The twins grinned at one another and Fred picked up his quill once more.

To cause mischief, anarchy and on occasion, downright mayhem. Fred paused and added. And hide from Mrs. Norris because she's just a little bit creepy.

Mr. Wormtail would like to heartily agree.

So HOW?

George watched the ink slowly absorb into the parchment and wondered if this was an insanely brilliant joke, designed to keep them there forever. Filch was bound to notice it was missing and he was bound to realise it was now their prized possession.

Mr. Padfoot would like to prompt you.

Fred beamed. "Isn't this great?"

George failed to see how. Yes, they were conversing with strange men - all of whom possessed peculiar names - who appeared to be incredible cartographers, but as they could not read it and therefore did not know just what they had plotted, he found it rather vague and useless.

You are up to no good?

The twins laughed and simultaneously replied: "All the time", wondering why they did so as the map could not hear them.

Do you swear it?

Mr. Prongs would like to offer a hint. You need your wand. And stop beating the map.

Their breath hitched and both noticed the other was slowly turning an unflattering shade that clashed furiously with their flaming red hair. Their identical smiles were wide and their hands shook. Fred picked up his wand and said, "I swear I am up to no good."

Nothing.

Do you mean it?

The twins frowned.

We don't understand.

Mr. Moony would like to say that you're on the right track…

But Mr. Prongs would like to add that you need to be more sincere.

"More sincere?"

George shrugged. "Maybe you need to declare undying love for it."

"I love you." Tap, tap. "'Til death do us part."

Nice try.

Close, but no cigar.

Fred huffed and threw down his wand. "What are we going to do now?"

Do you solemnly swear?

"I solemnly swear I am up to no good."

The map opened and in a riot of colour, revealed to them the entire grounds of Hogwarts and even passageways leading to goodness knows where.

"This is Hogwarts."

"This is bloody brilliant."