All right, Percy.
You first.
Fred, you next.
He's not Fred, I am.
Honestly, woman, you call yourself our mother.
Oh, I'm sorry, George.
I'm only joking.
I am Fred.
Seeker?
But first years never make the house teams.
You must be the youngest Quidditch player in a—
Century, according to McGonagall.
Hey, well done, Harry.
Wood's just told us.
Fred and George are on the team too.
Beaters.
Our job is to make sure that
you don't get bloodied up too bad.
Can't make any promises of course.
Rough game, Quidditch.
Brutal! But no one's died in years.
Someone will vanish occasionally.
But they'll turn up in a month or two!
[George] Not flashing that clipping about again, are you Ron?
I haven't shown anyone.
No, not a soul.
Not unless you count Tom.
The day maid.
The night maid.
The cook.
That bloke who came to fix the toilet.
And that wizard from Belgium.
That there is the secret to our success.
It's a wrench giving it to you, believe me.
But we've decided your needs are greater than ours.
George, if you will.
I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.
"Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs
are proud to present the Marauders Map?"
We owe them so much.
Hang on.
This is Hogwarts!
And that—
No.
Is that really—
Dumbledore.
In his study.
Pacing.
Does that a lot.
[Harry] So, you mean this map shows—
[Fred] Everyone.
"Everyone?"
Everyone.
Where they are.
What they're doing.
Every minute.
Of every day.
Brilliant!
Where'd you get it?
Nicked it from Filch's office, of course.
First year.
Now listen, there are seven secret passageways
out of the castle.
We'd recommend...
[Both] This one.
[George] The one-eyed witch passageway.
[Fred] It'll lead you straight to Honeydukes's cellar.
But you best hurry.
Filch is heading this way.
Oh, and, Harry, don't forget.
When you're done, just to give it a tap and say—
[Both] "Mischief managed."
Otherwise anyone can read it.
[Mr Weasley] Excellent, excellent.
Girls, choose a bunk and unpack.
Ron, get out of the kitchen.
We're all hungry.
[Fred and George] Yeah, get outta the kitchen, Ron.
Feet off the table.
[Fred and George] Feet off the table.
[Ron] There's no one like Krum.
Krum?
Dumb Krum?
He's like a bird the way he rides the wind.
Dumb Krum.
He's more than an athlete.
Dumb Krum!
He's an artist.
Think you're in love, Ron.
Shut up, you.
♫ Viktor I love you!
Viktor I do!
When we're apart my heart beats only for you! ♫
Sounds like the Irish have got their pride on.
Stop.
Stop it.
It's not the Irish.
Eternal glory.
That is what awaits the student who wins
the Triwizard Tournament.
But to do this, that student must survive three tasks.
Three extremely dangerous tasks.
[Both] Wicked.
[Fred and George] Yes!
Thank you, thank you.
Well, lads, we've done it.
Cooked it up just this morning.
It's not going to work.
Oh, yeah?
And why is that, Granger?
You see this?
This is an Age Line.
Dumbledore drew it himself.
So?
So, a genius like Dumbledore couldn't possibly be fooled
by a dodge as pathetically dim-witted as an aging potion.
Ah, but that's why it's so brilliant.
'Cause it's so pathetically dim-witted.
Ready, Fred?
Ready, George.
[Both] Bottoms up.
Yes!
Yeah!
Yes!
Ready?
[Both] Yes.
Ahh!
You said.
You said!
Ah!
Oh, you want a piece of it?
Get that!
[Both] Yes!
Well done, dragon!
Yes, Harry!
Knew you wouldn't die, Harry.
Lose a leg.
Or an arm.
Pack it in altogether?
[Both] Never!
Shush!
Go on, Harry.
What's the clue?
Who wants me to open it?
[All] Yeah!
Do you want me to open it?
[All] Yeah!
The bloody hell was that?
All right, everyone, go back to your knitting.
This is gonna be uncomfortable enough
without all you nosy sods listening in.
I will not have you, in the course of a single evening,
besmirching that name by behaving like a babbling,
bumbling band of baboons.
Try saying that five times faster.
[McGonagall] Now, to dance —
Babbling, bumbling band of baboons.
— is to let the body breathe.
Inside every girl, a secret swan slumbers,
longing to burst forth and take flight.
Something's about to burst out of Eloise Midgen
but I don't think it's a swan.
Inside every boy, a lordly lion prepared to prance.
Mr Weasley.
Yes?
Will you join me please?
Now, place your right hand on my waist.
Where?
My waist.
And extend your arm.
Mr Filch, if you please.
One, two, three.
[Harry] Oi.
Never gonna let him forget this, are you?
[Both] Never.
Any bets?
Place your bets, place your bets, come on.
Any bets?
Go on, step up, mates.
Don't be shy.
Three lads.
One lady.
Four go down.
But do four come up?
Don't be so mean.
Any bets?
It's ten to one.
Dumbledore said that?
But why would he wanna keep me in the dark?
I mean, maybe I could help.
After all, I'm the one who saw Voldemort return.
I'm the one who fought him.
I'm the one who saw Cedric Diggory get killed.
Harry.
Thought we heard your dulcet tones.
Don't bottle it up though mate.
Let it out.
Anyway, if you're all done shouting...
Do you wanna hear something a little more interesting?
Well, we'll be eating down in the kitchen.
Oh!
Just because you're allowed to use magic now
does not mean you have to whip your wands out
for everything!
[Dolores] As I told you once before, Mr Potter,
naughty children deserve to be punished.
You know, George, I've always felt our futures
lay outside the world of academic achievement.
Fred, I've been thinking exactly the same thing.
Wahey!
Here you go!
Ready when you are.
Woo!
[Both] Step up, step up.
We've got Fainting Fancies.
Nosebleed Nougat.
And just in time for school...
Puking Pastilles!
[Both] Into the cauldron, handsome.
I will have order.
"Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder?"
A real money-spinner that one.
Handy if you need to make a quick getaway.
[Fred and George] Hello, ladies.
Love potions, eh?
Yeah, they really do work.
Then again, the way we here it, sis,
you're doing just fine on your own.
Meaning?
[Fred] Are you not currently dating Dean Thomas?
It's none of your business.
How much for this?
[Both] Five Galleons.
How much for me?
[Both] Five Galleons.
I'm your brother.
[Both] Ten Galleons.
[Harry] Taking that, becoming me...
No.
Well, none of us really fancy it, mate.
Yeah, imagine if something went wrong
and we ended up a scrawny, specky git forever.
Fair warning, tastes like goblin piss.
Have a lot of experiences with that do you, Mad-Eye?
Just trying to defuse the tension.
Urgh.
How you feeling, Georgie?
Saint-like.
Come again?
Saint-like.
I'm holy.
I'm holey, Fred.
You get it?
The whole wide world of ear-related humour,
and you go for, "I'm holy?"
That's pathetic.
Morning.
You okay, Freddie?
Yeah.
Me too.