Chapter Text
Classes were cancelled for the next few days as the champions prepared for the tournament. In reality it was because a killer gutted Goyle, whose funeral will be attended by few in Harry’s house. Some students have said it’s a blessing in disguise to have no class; they won’t have to deal with homework. Instead they traded Snape to another monster, but this monster is one who kills.
Rumors have spread over Hogwarts. Some say Harry did it; others say it was staged. Some students even made conspiracy theories about how the ministry is spying on the school through Dumbledore. Fred and George saw it as an opportunity, and when Harry returned to the common room, it was decked out in Halloween masks and streamers.
“You're just in time!” One of the brothers cheered, wearing a black cape, “Time for murder!”
A few people lounging around cheered; others gave them looks of horror. A crowd formed around the brothers as the performance began. The black owl landed on the windowsill and entered, sitting on the fireplace watching the show. No one even glanced at the owl, thinking it was by no means relevant.
“Wizards and witches!” Fred opened his arms. “I present to you the one and only!” He shoved his brother, gesturing to him.
George, the one wearing the cape, put the mask on and held his wand out, tilting his head slightly to imitate an element of horror.
“You know whose face!” They announced in harmony.
“This is absurd!” Hermione said, “Any one of us could be the killer, and you want to flaunt around pretending to be one!”
“Party pooper!” Fred and George said at the same time. With a roll of her eyes, Hermione left, and the brothers laughed harder, giving each other high fives.
“Our next victim!” George laughed, “It’s a rule; don’t make fun of you-know-who-face!” He turned his cape to cover his mouth like a villain would dramatically do in the media.
“Now ladies and gentlemen, victims of crime! I present the truth of how the Slytherin died.” Fred held his arms out to George, who grinned from under the mask.
The black owl landed on his shoulder and dropped a howler letter in his hand. Then the owl vanished like it was magic, which it wasn’t since it was an owl.
“Gryffindors,” the letter said, mimicking the sorting hat in its disoriented voice, “let’s see here, so many choices. There’s the boy who lived.”
Fred jumped and looked at his brother, Harry, who was in the crowd and didn't know how to react. Unsure if this was part of the act or if it’s real, he didn’t make an assumption and instead watched Ron give an unreadable look.
“An easy choice, since no one is safe. Then there’s also his friends; yes, side characters bleed the fastest, Hermione all alone in her room, an easy kill. Imagine the book lover screaming as an unforgivable curse is used, her veins wide open pooling with blood, and Ron, Ron, Ron. Spiders make him scream; why not stab him and watch him squirm, leaving him for a snack?” The letter laughed, and its disoriented voice was enough to silence the crowd. Those who were horrified by the act before had left for their dorms while the laughing students cheered at the threat.
Harry managed to find his way to Ron, who glared with fear etched on his face. His friend muttered something that he couldn’t pick up on, but Harry guessed it was something along the lines of “Oh God.”
“Yeah, we got pranked. I bow to you, sir, hidden prankster.” Fred chuckled, “Show’s over, folks.”
“You like scaring people with pranks, George?” The letter asked, “How about you and I play a game?”
“A—a game I—we but?” Fred stumbled as the next letter landed from the black owl, and for George, “Don’t open it!” He urged his brother.
“The crowds are expecting a show.” George whispered.
“We already said the show’s over.”
“Yeah, but this is our chance to know who it is! We can catch the killer!” George opened the letter.
“What rule of horror is your favorite?”
“Uh, don’t open up the door.” George said.
“Isn’t that what you just did?”
“No? There’s no door.”
By now the crowd had their full attention on George, who was opening the talking letters. They expected a show, a full show.
“But there’s a letter, and you opened up the envelope. In every horror, what happens to those who open anything?”
“They die.” George said, realization having settled on his face. “Ladies and gentlemen, the show is officially over! This isn’t part of the act!”
“But it is now. You all came here expecting action, so watch as I slit his throat right in front of you, and the best part is, you have no idea what’s even hit you. The grand opening.”
The black owl flew up and out through an open window. The disoriented voice cackled as the letter shredded itself to pieces.
“If anyone knows jokes, it’s me.” George laughed, “and this here is a jo—”
His eyes widened as his sentence was cut short by a dagger. A silver-tipped knife that tore a large hole into George’s throat. There wasn’t time to disarm whoever the stabber was. By the time anyone turned around to see where the knife came from, it was far too late.
Fred was the first to scream; once the crowd realized what was happening, they began to panic like a rabbit caught in a trap.
Someone dropped their wand, causing a crack to echo through the screams; as Harry turned, he saw George’s neck had been stabbed through the commotion.
“Every death is a message.” Neville said, staring at the body, “And this you know who ghost face, he’s just starting.”
It’s a grand opening.