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Chapter 22 - 22: The Dung Bombs

"Move aside, George. Let me handle this!" Fred shoved his twin aside eagerly, raised his wand, and cast, "Incendio!"

With a soft pop, a tiny flame flickered at the tip of his wand.

Mrs. Norris let out a dismissive meow, her yellow eyes filled with disdain.

Fred Weasley had just been snubbed by a cat.

George stepped forward, pushing his brother back with a look of mock disappointment. "Fred, you've embarrassed me. Your flame could barely warm Mrs. Norris—she probably liked it! Watch this. Incendio!"

George's flame was slightly larger, and Mrs. Norris took a cautious step back, her fear beginning to show.

"Quick, Nolan! Help us out!" George urged, excitement in his voice. Fred, on the other hand, looked anxious. "We'd better hurry. I'm sure that old wolf has some kind of connection with his cat, and he'll be here any minute!"

"Let me give it a shot," Nolan said calmly. He pointed his wand and cast Incendio as well, producing a flame even larger than George's. Startled, Mrs. Norris leapt from the desk to the floor, darting toward the office door in a panic.

But Fred blocked her escape, grinning mischievously. The three formed a triangle around the unfortunate cat.

Fred suggested, "Let's all cast Incendio together. I bet we can scare her out of her wits!"

George was positively gleeful. "Alright, I'll count us in. One, two, three—Incendio!"

The combined flames intertwined, creating a small but dramatic explosion. Mrs. Norris yowled and sprang three feet into the air, scrambling around the office in terrified circles.

The Weasley twins were thrilled with their success. Seeing the cat so thoroughly frightened, they felt like invincible heroes.

But their triumph was short-lived. Loud footsteps echoed from down the corridor, followed by an enraged voice.

"Rule-breaking little brats! I'll catch you, and Professor Dumbledore will have you expelled!"

Fred froze. "What do we do? If we run, he'll definitely catch us!"

George quickly suggested, "We split up! Three different directions—whoever gets caught doesn't rat out the others!"

But Nolan seemed unfazed, even amused. The thrill of tormenting Filch in the shadows of the night brought him an almost giddy joy. Shaking his head, he said, "Lock the door. Filch doesn't have a wand or magic. He won't be able to get in. Let's trap him outside and hold our ground!"

The twins looked at each other, impressed. "Brilliant idea!" they said in unison.

Outside, Filch shoved the door with all his might, but it wouldn't budge. The brats had locked him out!

"Open up, you little devils!"

From inside, the twins burst into obnoxious laughter. One mocked in a raspy voice, "Filch! The spell to unlock the door is Alohomora. Why don't you try it with your mop?"

The other chimed in with a high-pitched tone, "Shut up, Joseph! Don't you know Filch is a Squib?"

Filch, deeply wounded by the insult, bellowed, "Whoever you are, Joseph, I will catch you! You'll regret this!"

Looking around, he muttered to himself, I'll wait them out. They can't stay in there forever. Come morning, when the professors wake up, they'll help me open the door. And then, I'll have them all!

Inside the office, the trio huddled together. One of the twins whispered, "Alright, we've locked Filch out. Now what?"

Nolan's grin turned devilish. "If Filch wants to trap us, let's find a way to smoke him out."

"Smoke him out? But clearing Hogwarts' sewers is part of Filch's job—I bet he's not too bothered by bad smells," one of the twins said with a disappointed sigh.

The other brightened up and suggested, "Maybe we can use some magic to amplify the stench!"

Nolan grinned confidently. "That's basic potion-making. I can do it! Now, I'll start brewing here while you two go find something really foul. Stuff it into balloons and bring them to me."

The twins snapped off crooked salutes. "Yes, sir!"

Nolan began rummaging through Filch's collection, finding a surprising stash of prank items.

With delight, Nolan picked a few items, carefully disassembled them using magic, and extracted their enchanted components into a vial. He lit a small flame under the vial, bringing its contents to a boil. Before long, the liquid turned a dark brown and began emitting an unbearable stench.

As he worked, Nolan discovered a peculiar green-and-silver emblem with strange writing on the back. Unable to decipher it, he pocketed the artifact for later inspection.

"Are you ready?" Nolan asked, spotting the twins lurking suspiciously in a corner.

The twins' faces were as red as their hair. One admitted, "Oh, Nolan, we couldn't find anything nasty…"

The other quickly added, "But Fred made something himself!"

The first protested, "George contributed too!"

Realizing what they meant, Nolan couldn't help but laugh. "Perfect! We'll give Filch a memorable taste of the sewers!"

The twins had stuffed their... contributions into seven tightly packed balloons, each the size of a fist. Nolan added a few drops of his foul potion to each balloon before the twins sealed them.

"These will explode on impact," Nolan explained with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I guarantee they'll smell ten times worse than raw sewage!"

The twins were thrilled. Like many boys their age, they found great amusement in anything involving bodily functions—wizarding boys were no exception.

"This is brilliant!" one twin cheered. "Filch is going to wish he'd never been born!"

"Even if he dodges the dung bombs," the other said, "he'll have to spend a whole day scrubbing the walls and floor!"

Filch leaned against the wall, clutching his mop and glaring daggers at his office door.

He was determined to wait them out. Sooner or later, those troublemakers would have to open the door, and when they did, he'd make sure they paid for their insolence.

Just as Filch was imagining the punishments he'd inflict, the door creaked open.

Thick smoke billowed out, engulfing him before he could react. Choking and coughing, he stumbled back, eyes watering as the acrid fumes stung his nose.

Then, with two sharp whizzes, something shot out from the office. One hit Filch square in the forehead; the other missed, splattering against the wall behind him.

Bang! Bang!

The balloons exploded in a shower of foul-smelling sludge.

An overwhelming stench filled the corridor. Filch staggered, gagging, as a large dollop of the vile substance splattered across his face. It was worse than anything he'd ever encountered in the sewers.

Overcome by the horrific smell, Filch's eyes rolled back, and with a soft thud, he collapsed into the reeking mess.

He had fainted from the stench.

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