When Harry returned to George and Fred's dorm, he tossed the money pouch straight onto their desk.
The twins looked up eagerly. "Looks like you managed to borrow quite a bit!" "Did the Professor find out what it was for?"
Harry shook his head. "I didn't see my uncle. The money's from Dobby. Hurry, let's get on with it!"
George and Fred exchanged a glance—both suddenly feeling a wave of disappointment. The whole point of this elaborate game had been to use Harry as a way to trick some Galleons out of Douglas, to finally settle an old score. But now, with things having gone this far, there was nothing to do but press on. If they were going to get caught and pay for it anyway, why not try to make a bit more?
Harry drew another slip from the box. Not bad—a purple map fragment.
He immediately drew again, but when he read the words on the slip, his eyes went wide with fury. He tore the slip to shreds. "Are you kidding me? Where did this rat come from? Tell me, where did a rat come from to steal five of my purple fragments?"
He never imagined there'd be an option that would take fragments away.
George patted Harry on the shoulder, feigning surprise. "That's just how the game's designer set it up. Nothing we can do. If you're really upset, you can curse the game designer at the top of your lungs—we won't mind. But honestly, you're lucky. We never pulled that one ourselves. So, want to keep going?"
Harry shook off George's hand, glaring. "You call this luck? I want to see all the slips in the box!"
Fred had clearly anticipated this. He set the box on the table, swearing, "Oh, of course. No problem at all."
"But, obviously, you've hurt the trust between us..." "So now, you'll need to pay one Galleon for the privilege of checking." "If you find anything wrong, I'll refund all your Galleons."
Harry looked at their earnest, wounded faces and felt his request might have been a bit much. Still, thinking of all his hard-earned money, he gritted his teeth and agreed.
After paying, he opened the box and carefully examined the slips:
"Fortune smiles, map in hand! Congratulations, you've gained 5 blue map fragments!" "Fortune smiles, map in hand! Congratulations, you've gained 6 orange map fragments!" "Fortune smiles, map in hand! Congratulations, you've gained 9 green map fragments!" "Fortune smiles, map in hand! Congratulations, you've gained 10 red map fragments!"
He paused, stunned—there was actually a slip with ten red fragments at once.
"Fortune smiles, map in hand! Unfortunately, your 8 red fragments were stolen by a rat!" "Fortune smiles, map in hand! Unfortunately, your 1 yellow fragment was stolen by a rat!" "Fortune smiles, map in hand! Unfortunately, you drew nothing. Thanks for playing, and may luck be with you!"
...
George and Fred noticed that Harry never once tried to use his wand to check for magic and shared a knowing look. Of course, even if he had, they were ready with a backup explanation.
Fred grinned, "See, Harry? We didn't cheat you!"
George added, "Look how lucky you are—just five purple fragments stolen. We drew 'thanks for playing' back in our day."
Harry nodded absently, then steeled himself. "Let's keep going. I refuse to believe my luck can be this bad forever!"
The twins nodded enthusiastically in support.
Fred picked up the wooden box again.
Seeing this, Harry's heart began to race. He stared at Fred suspiciously. "Why do you always have to hold the box? No—there's definitely something fishy here."
Fred played innocent. "We said from the start, this is a tradition. The previous owner holds the box while the new inheritor draws. What's wrong with that?"
George chimed in, "Maybe we should just stop, Harry. If you don't trust us—well, as the current holders of the Marauder's Map, your suspicion really hurts us."
"Yeah, we trusted this game completely when it was our turn..." "And that's how we inherited it..."
Harry quickly interrupted, "Wait, didn't you get the map from Filch's office? At most, you learned about the game from the map—how could you possibly..."
Fred nudged George, who jumped in, "Of course, we know the map's creator. He tested us years ago."
Harry considered this. It made sense—the wizarding world was small, after all, and the Weasleys were a pure-blood family. Knowing the map's creator wasn't so far-fetched.
He took a deep breath. "Well, if it's the creator's requirement, let's continue."
Five minutes later, Harry stared at his empty money pouch.
After a wild tug-of-war with the "rat theft" slips, he was still one purple fragment short.
He gazed blankly at the pouch.
George cleared his throat. "Harry, do you want to keep going?"
Harry looked up at them, jaw clenched. "That was fifty Galleons!"
Fred corrected him, "Forty-eight! So, are you going to borrow from the Professor and keep playing? We can wait."
Harry gave a bitter smile and slowly shook his head. "No. Honestly, I'm pretty sure there's some magic controlling those slips. There's no way my luck is this bad. If I keep going, I bet the whole Potter vault at Gringotts wouldn't be enough. So I'll just count those fifty—no, forty-eight Galleons as lost. Don't worry, I'll stick to the rules and won't ask for them back."
He turned away, feeling a little hollow, and headed for his dorm. The whole experience felt like a dream—so many Galleons spent without even noticing. He hadn't really understood money before, but now he felt a deep, unfamiliar ache.
He'd suspected magic was at work in the box more than once, but just couldn't bring himself to stop...
Just then, George and Fred called after him.
"Wait, Harry!"
He turned, confused, to see the twins grinning at him. To him, it looked like outright mockery. He snapped, "What is it? I'm not wasting another Knut on this!"
George stepped forward, pulled him into a rough hug, and shook him by the shoulders. "Congratulations! You've passed the test!"
Harry looked even more bewildered. "What are you talking about?"
Fred laughed, "George, looks like our club president is so excited he can't hear straight."
Harry shot him a glare. Being called the detective club president at a time like this felt like salt in the wound.
"But I gave up! How did I pass?"
George smirked. "Exactly! Passing meant refusing to play. We hinted at it several times."
Fred delivered the final blow, "Actually, if you'd just flat-out refused to take part from the very beginning, the map would've been yours right then!"
A thunderclap seemed to echo in Harry's mind. He felt dizzy with realization.
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