The headmaster could see a flicker of confusion on their faces.
"Yes, come out with it," he offered. "As I said, in lieu of a reward or house points, I am providing answers. If you have questions, ask them."
"So...er...Aruzula isn't one of those veela things or something?" Fred asked, verbalizing the thought on their minds. "She's really...just...paint?"
Dumbledore sipped a long breath before answering. "That is difficult to say. Quite difficult. As an enchanted portrait, Aruzula is the extracted essence of the young witch she had been painted to represent, as you were taught by Professor Quirrell. But in the time since leaving her portrait, she aged and has become unhindered in her abilities to perform very intricate magic. Indeed, this is a question which requires a profound level of contemplation. I will, as they say, mull it over. As for now, you can feel confident in the knowledge that time is running out for Aruzula Darc. She will return to a painted state after several years, even if she has somehow learned to extend beyond the allotted time through the use of Black Magic. Without a replacement into the painting, which we possess, I am confident that she will, one day, resurface out of desperation."
"If there are protections on this castle," George began, glancing out the window at the distant rooftops of Hogsmeade, "how was Aruzula able to come and go as she pleased without being detected? Is it because her painting was given access centuries ago?"
"That is correct."
"What was all that about Hagrid's expulsion, sir?" Fred asked, his forehead creased. "The Chamber of Secrets? Slytherin's monster? And Professor Mulligan was petrified! Did Aruzula have anything to do with it? Was that boy telling her the truth? Was Hagrid to blame?"
Dumbledore raised a serious hand to silence the onslaught of questions.
"All of these concerns I will now come to expect from minds such as yours...but I fear we must save that discussion for another time."
"At least tell us about that boy from Slug Club," George pressed. "Tom Riddle."
They watched in earnest as Dumbledore's expression changed dramatically. He was clearly troubled as he shifted in place, his head bobbing freely on his neck. It was as if he were, at that moment, back inside the Pensieve, viewing an entire life of difficult memories.
"Tom Riddle...a name I have not heard in some time," he began, his soft voice teeming with emotions. "That, dear boys, was Lord Voldemort."
Fred and George gasped, their mouths gaping in utter shock.
"Professor Dumbledore...you —"
"— you named him."
"Indeed, I did. You witnessed for yourself. He was once a pupil of mine, and someone I took pride in nurturing since before his arrival to Hogwarts," said Dumbledore regrettably. "I speak his self-serving title unafraid, for it is nothing but words. And while we understand that words hold great power, the power in fact to cast incantations and transfigure the very world in which we inhabit, some words are meant to invoke a power that does not exist. Fear, boys, is not an enchantment. It is a choice. One I have made, in this case, without difficulty. The name does not deserve the emotion it seeks to draw from me."
"Do you think he — You-Know-Who, I mean — had anything to do with this?" asked Fred apprehensively.
"For the first time, I am unaware of his involvement in these, or any related, matters." Dumbledore broke, glancing up at the twins. "As well as your own," he concluded with a smirk. "Suffice it to say...you, Fred and George Weasley, are now a part of something much greater than yourselves. How great, we have yet to see."
Madam Pomfrey, who had been accustomed to ignoring private meetings between the staff and students, opened the doors to the infirmary and sauntered out nonchalantly, nearly smacking her head against Professor Quirrell, who was milling aimlessly outside the room. He scurried away, muttering to himself. Dumbledore caught sight of Fred and George looking dubiously at him.
"Should I ask why it is you seem so suspicious of your Enchantments instructor?"
"Quirrell's up to something, Headmaster," said Fred confidently.
"Professor Quirrell," he corrected.
"We think he's faking that stuttering problem," said George.
"And he's been having private meetings with someone."
"We followed him out to the forest one...night..."
The twins stopped rambling a moment too late, only to realize that they had made a terrible mistake by admitting to accessing yet another off-limits area of the school. Surprisingly, Professor Dumbledore seemed less interested in their disobedience for the moment.
"Clarify for me, if you will, how you were able to detect these...clandestine meetings?"
"We..." George began, before looking over at his brother, who nodded hopelessly. "We found a map of the school, sir."
Fred leaned over to their table, where he searched through his hand-me-down robe. He fished the folded square of parchment out of an inside pocket and handed it to their headmaster, whose face lit up.
"Ah...the Marauder's Map. I've heard great things," he said brightly, raising a single eyebrow as he gazed upon each of them. "It not only made its way to you, but found you worthy of its secrets. That is an achievement within itself." He passed the parchment back to Fred. "And did the map reveal that Professor Quirrell was with anyone in particular?"
Dumbledore revealed, for just a moment, that a secondary question was lingering behind his eyes. The boys shook their heads.
"He was by himself, sir."
The headmaster nodded agreeably. "I have also overheard him speaking. At times, without a stutter. Other times in a deeper, more unfamiliar tone," he replied. "I can only presume that, by talking to himself, Quirinus is finding some measure of relief. You must take into account that he saw and experienced many terrible things while he was away. That said, I must warn you not to venture into the Forbidden Forest...especially alone."
"There was someone else in the woods with us that night."
"He told us to leave. That the forest was evil."
"We couldn't see who it was."
"There are many voices in the Forbidden Forest, boys," said Dumbledore slowly. "Heed their advice."
"Hang on, I just realized something," said George. "Do you remember how Hagrid was always spending time in Percy's hallway? He was moving so slowly..."
Fred gasped. "Of course! We were in Defense Against the Dark Arts!"
"How could we have been so stupid?!"
"Once again, you assertions are proven correct," Dumbledore confirmed. "Hagrid was assisting Mister Filch in restoring the hallway back to its former glory. He did so during that period, when time was moving at a slower pace beyond the boundaries of your classroom, which would be perceived by anyone who happened to be in possession of a magical map of the school."
"Then Parsi..." George stopped himself. "Professor Parsimonae...was only here for his grandfather? Not — er — looking for the treasure?"
"Treasure?" asked Dumbledore, amused.
Fred held up the square of parchment. "The Marauders. They mentioned the treasure, as well."
"I feel I need to express an apprehension of mine," said Dumbledore, inhaling gradually. "Be careful of what you possess, mindful to whom you listen, and ever artful in your deceit."
His eyes lingered on Fred's tousled robe, where the Invisibility Cloak had been stashed after the standoff with Aruzula. Thoughts raced between the twins before Dumbledore finished.
"Only two of the four Marauders you speak of are alive today, and one of them is in Azkaban prison."
"Really?" said George.
"What happened to the other two?" said Fred.
"It is as I said," Dumbledore continued solemnly. "One of them is a prisoner of Azkaban. If I recall correctly, those boys used the map for similar pursuits. For, let us say, misbehavior."
"There's really no treasure?" George persisted. "We saw a tablet in the Ancient Runes classroom. It said 'Treasure of Hogwarts'."
"At this castle? Oh, I am quite certain there is treasure," said Dumbledore, to their delight.
"So, Montague and Meaney were looking for it!"
"And that explains the thefts."
Dumbledore shrugged. "Some of that was the fourth year, Victor Sparrow. Aruzula Darc stole Professor Snape's Mayhem Orb, as you, George, were most unlucky to discover. And, yes, I believe the rest may have been due to several of the students from Slytherin House. Although perhaps not Tenice Montague. He was top of your year."
"That — I refuse to believe," said Fred.
"But there's definitely a treasure..." George confirmed, yet again.
"Indeed, there is. And I have personally spent an entire week deliberating over the tablet of which you speak, which was discovered on the castle grounds many centuries ago."
"Has it been found?" asked Fred excitedly. "Where is it?"
Dumbledore's face softened. When he spoke again, he seemed, in that moment, to be the very voice of Hogwarts.
"The treasure has been in front of you all along. It is the most abundant of all, the most prized. It is you, the students of this school. You are more valuable to the wizarding world than you could ever imagine. For a day will come when you will rule over us. You will protect us. And," he paused, with seriousness in his eyes, "according to prophecy, that especially applies to you."