Why Fred and George Will Never Eavesdrop Again ...

A/N: Okay, I’m going to try this one from the beachfront. One kid inside with stomach ills - everyone else going to the boardwalk for ice cream … yay me!

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“Tonks?” Sirius hustled around the large scarred table in Number Twelve’s kitchen to help hoist his cousin back onto her feet.

“N-n-n-never … have … I …” Dumbledore interrupted Tonks’ stuttering attempt at an explanation by bounding through the floo connection, his beard flowing behind him.

“Hello Nymphadora, lemon drop?” Albus asked with a merry twinkle in his eye.

“Uh, no, thanks.” Tonks continued to stutter as she backed ungracefully away from the Headmaster, tripping over the leg of a chair and nearly falling on her backside.

“Alright then. Now what’s this you were saying about Professor Snape?” Dumbledore continued smoothly. Settling into a chair, he steepled his fingers thoughtfully as he waited patiently for the young auror to recover.

“Headmaster, we sort of planted Tonks’ picture-taking phone-cell contraption with Voldemort.” Lupin started to explain, but, was quickly interrupted as Sirius butt in to the conversation.

“We, uh, hmmm, well, we’ve been pranking him with it.”

“It was really funny when he tried to AK the thing.” Lupin added.

“And when we woke him up …” Sirius continued.

“But, we think we might have pushed him a bit far when he sent him a message signed by you.” Lupin finished as Dumbledore curiously flipped open the top of Remus’ phone.

“Just what kind of magic works this contraption?” Dumbledore focused his stare on Tonks.

“A satellite, batteries and other muggle inventions.” Remus answered for Tonks who was still shell-shocked, staring unseeingly at the Headmaster.

“A satellite? Like a moon? In the sky?” Albus queried in quick succession.

“A man-made tiny moon circling around the earth.” Tonks tried to describe the whole satellite thing for the old wizard.

“And it has a mate?”

“Well, not so much a mate. It can call to other cell phones.” Lupin patiently explained.

“Ahhh, I see, and Voldemort has one?”

Tonks shuddered, then griped. “He has MINE, apparently.”

“Very interesting … like a contained floo network?” Albus continued to push the little buttons, infinitely amused at the tiny little beeping noises.

“Yes, Headmaster.” Lupin answered dutifully.

“Can I floo-call Voldemort?” Dumbledore looked at Tonks hopefully.

“Yes sir. Just like this …” Tonks held out her hand for the phone. Skillfully pressing the autodial, she handed the phone back to Dumbledore.

******

“Crucio!” Voldemort screamed in rage. Snape writhed on the floor.

The black-magic contraption tinkled merrily, “Dee dee dee, dee dee dee, dee, dee, dee, dee, dee.”

Voldemort released the unforgivable curse to expertly flip open the cell phone, pressed send, and crooned into the little microphone, “Voldemort here,” quite proud of himself now that he learned how to operate the contraption.

“Hello Tom!” Dumbledore chortled gleefully from his end.

“Aaaarrrrgggghhhh!” Voldemort bellowed. “Dumbledore! What do you want?”

“Can you send Snape back? We have a wee emergency at the castle and could really use our Potions Master’s skills.”

“Are you insane old man? What makes you think he’s here?” Voldemort screamed into the phone.

“Oh, well, then, my mistake. If you see him, could you hurry him along?” Dumbledore asked quite politely.

Voldemort was now completely taken aback by the dodgy old codger’s polite attitude. He held the phone out at arm’s length and stared at it for a minute or too before he answered.

“I, ah, will be sure to pass on the message … if I see him that is.”

“Jolly good, Tom. Thanks!” Dumbledore answered cheerfully, then closed the cell phone on his end.

“What in the name of all nine hells is he playing at?” Voldemort screamed at Snape, who merely bowed his head, trying to hide his involuntarily trembling muscles.

“I truly do not know, my lord,” he groveled from his knees.

“Well, go and find out. He asked me to send you along if I saw you. Bloody old nutter.” Voldemort was muttering discontentedly to himself now, his back turned on Snape who was sliding slowly toward the door.

“By your leave, my lord.” He requested permission to leave. Voldemort waved his hand dismissively, not bothering to turn around and face him. Snape quickly took advantage and apparated away from the stronghold, straight to the safe point nearest Number Twelve.

“Bloody old nutters.” He muttered crankily, his hands still twitching against his will. Snape slammed open the front door to Number Twelve, setting the portrait of Mrs. Black to screeching. He glanced up at the landing where the children had skidded to a halt, having exited their various rooms at the sound of the door. He snarled menacingly as he hissed,

“Get back to your rooms!”

He stomped angrily down the hall, swinging the door open to the kitchen, and throwing himself down at the table next to a thoroughly flustered Tonks.

“Well I certainly hope you four have been enjoying your evening more than I have.” He growled, reaching for the bottle of fire whiskey from the center of the table, hoping to settle his nerves.

“Why? You’re the one who looks like they need a cigarette, Snape old boy.” Sirius tried to joke. Snape glowered menacingly.

“Now, now Severus, we have all had to take one for the team, so to speak.” Tonks baited him.

“While I was out taking one for the team, I see you were here taking the team, Miss Tonks.” Snape snarled. Bill Weasley backed quickly away from the hall door, his mind churning a million miles a minute. Tonks? The team? Lupin and Sirius?

“Severus!” Albus growled sharply reprimanding his professor.

Dumbledore! Thought Bill. Great Merlin on ice skates! He bounded up the steps to find Fred and George. After all, they were here more than he was, surely they knew what was going on …