A/N: All rights go to J. K. Rowling , I own nothing, blah blah blah

We were walking in King's Cross and had just said goodbye to our parents when Greg finally snapped. At least he made it this far; I was sure he'd have panicked ten minutes ago in front of everyone. Good timing.

"This isn't gonna work. It's not gonna work, it's not gonna get work. We're gonna get caught in 10 seconds. We should switch to your plan. Maybe we shouldn't do either. Yes, that's a good idea. No plan, we'll just be normal."

I try to comfort him. "We're sticking with the plan. Even if we get caught, it shouldn't be the end of the world."

"Nope. No way. Not happening."

"What are you talking about? It's brilliant."

"No, it's not. We're gonna get caught, and we're gonna bloody shame our families."

"Like you care. Anyways, pulling this off is the only way to, ahem, 'fulfill 's expectations'" I say, mimicking his dad's voice.

"Nope, we take the safe route. He honest."

"Ivan said Hogwarts was boring, and he thinks a boggart it a brand of clothes. We need entertainment, and that's a good way to get it."

"Yes, but..."

"Would it help if I lead?"

He nods after a moment.

"Great. It'll be fun. I promise."

I swear, Greg's brilliant. But Merlin is he a wuss.

I swear, Vince's brilliant. But Merlin is he a nut job.

Fun? It'll be fun? It won't be fun, it'll be bloody terrifying.

This is unquestioningly the stupidest, craziest, most pointless thing we've ever done. It will not be fun.

I know it was my idea, but his ideas was worse. "See how many teachers we can get to quit in a year,"? "Start a Hufflepuff-based drug cartel and a Gryffindor-based one, and provoke a gang war,"? "Convince Hagrid that the Centaurs are killing his pets,"? "Make secret passages into every dorm and haunt them,"? "Clone Filch's cat,"?

Those were all horrible. I had to propose something that Vince would like, but wouldn't get us expelled, arrested, or killed. Or all three. So I suggested the Go With It plan.

See, when we were young, our Dads enlisted both of us to be the current Malfoy's bodyguards. It's sort of a family tradition. We spent most of our time exercising together, because we'd do our job better that way. It's a simple life, and we're dedicated to it. We were, anyways.

We still would be fine with a life without excitement. Except Vince's an adrenalin monkey who couldn't stay still.

We still would be fine with a life without all too much thinking. Except Greg's a nerd who couldn't stay dumb.

Our families aren't big on the whole "education" thing. My mom could read, though, and insisted on reading storybooks to me every night. I liked them, and I remembered them word for word. But Greg was something else. We were five when I convinced both of our parents to let him sleep over. It turns out, he had never heard Tales of Beedle the Bard. Can you believe it? He was five! So of course, Mom had to read one. She let Greg sit on her lap, but he looked very closely at the scribbles at the bottom instead of the pictures. When she finished, he obviously was still into it, so I told her that, since he was turning six in a few weeks, she had to read him another, because no one should be six and not have heard of The Three Brothers. Like I said, Mom's big on reading. So we got another couple of stories before she told us to go to sleep.

The Go With It plan wouldn't have happened if Greg had gone to sleep.

The Go With It plan wouldn't have happened if Vince had gone to sleep.

I'm not sure why, but patterns have always been a thing with me. Whether it's the sizes of tiles or the colors in a blanket, or the time between hiccups, I had to find it. So when I saw the scribbles at the bottom of the pictures, I had to find the pattern.

"Do you think your Mom will read them again in the morning?" I asked after twenty minutes of lying in bed.

"Not the same ones." Vince replied.

"But... but..."

"What? If you like the stories so much, I remember them. I could tell you them, if you want."

"But I need to see the scribbles!"

He got a funny, confused, look on his face.

"I... I don't remember all of those. I don't think I've ever looked to closely."

"But..."

Then, he got the worst idea ever.

"Let's go into Dad's office!"

"What? That's... like... no!"

"Come on! It'll be fun."

"No. No way. Not happening."

"All of our family's books are in there. Mom's read 53 different books to me. You'll totally be able to figure it out!"

No. I can't break the rules. Rules are... life. Rules are everything. Rules are the world. Rules get us where we need to go. But... he was right. 53 books worth of those scribbles and I'd have it by the morning. What were the scribbles' rules?

"Fine. Let's go."

I followed him quickly to 's office.

I dragged him to slowly my dad's office. When we got there, I couldn't believe it wasn't locked. We turned the handle, pushed open the door, and there it was: a whole bookcase. In hindsight, I have absolutely no clue why Father has a book case. But anyways, I climbed up the bookshelf and grabbed the highest book I could find that Mum had read. Grabbing one from the bottom would have been boring. I opened it up and began to recite.

"There were once three brothers traveling down a road at twilight. In time-"

"Slow down! And whisper. We're not supposed to be in here."

"Who cares how fast I go?"

"It's important!"

Who cares? We're just here to have some fun breaking a rule.

Who cares? We're here for the scribbles! I need him to slow down, so I give him a glare.

"Fine. Whatever."

I looked at the words. Obviously, they represent english. I'd been able to figure that much out. The scribbles between spaces are words, and the "." marks the end of a sentence, and After it, the next scribble was always different. ",", I think, means a break, but it seems to be optional. And then there are the sound-scribbles. Some of them I'd already got: "k" "w" "m" "r" "b" "v" "p" "l" "s" "d" and "f". But others, like "e", seem to make a dozen sounds, and sometimes they don't even make much of a noise at all. I sigh. Let's start with the "t". Sometimes it makes a "town" and sometimes it starts "think". It starts in both of them. Maybe it's the number of letters? No, Vince said that word means "they". But both have a "h". Maybe that's it? So I sat there, watching the pairing of the scribbles, isolating as many as I can, figuring out which ones make sounds and which ones are for spacing.

It took hours of sitting there with Vince breathing down my neck, but I finally got it.

It took hours of standing there with Greg muttering nonsense, but we finally got it.

I wasn't sure if we were supposed to be doing this, so of course I made Greg show me how to. Greg explained it once, and I remembered all the rules. I read really slow at first, but I could always get it.

I guess we didn't clean up as well as we should have, though, because the next day, Dad was screaming about all the dark curses he'd do to whoever broke into his office. So needless to say, we swore each other to secrecy regarding what happened in Dad's office. It was our sacred pact; we could never tell anyone we were there or that we could read.

But in secret, we both loved it. We broke into Dad's office at least fifty times to get to the books. We read a book about arithmancy and did all the problems. We read about magic monsters and some muggle chemistry book than I'm sure father would have thrown out if he could read the title, and a potions book that was surprisingly similar. We read a third year transfiguration book and were able to do some of the spells with Teresa's, Greg's older sister, wand, but not all of it. But before long, we had read them all. I knew them by heart by the time we were six, and even Greg was bored of them.

So for then on, our lives were about getting just one more read. We saved every kunt to buy books when no one was looking, and reading books we couldn't quite afford yet when the shopkeepers were too busy to care. Greg's Dad said books were Muggle things, so as soon as I could get our parents to trust us alone for more than an hour, we broke their trust and left for Muggle London. I memorised a map, and Greg immediately picked up on the rules of the roads (can you believe those lazy Muggles in horseless carriages get the entire road? It's true. Normal folk only get these mini roads on either side!), so in half an hour, we found ourselves at the biggest bookshelves in history: the Chelsea Library. We went there whenever we had ten minutes. We snuck out at night at least once a week.

But once we got old enough to go to Hogwarts, I realized how bored we'd be. So I made some creative and brilliant suggestions on how to solve the problem.

But once we got old enough to go to Hogwarts, Vince realized how bored he'd be. So he made some dangerous and illegal suggestions on how to solve the problem.

"Nope. No way. Not happening."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want Mom to find out about the hypothetical frogs on the third floor, let alone the nerve gas."

"Well I'd like you to suggest something!"

There it was. If I could come up with something safe, legal, and fun, he'd do it.

"What about..." Damn. Wait! "What if... you know how we never told anyone we could read? And everyone just sort of assumes we're stupid? And we let them? What if we keep doing that?"

"Well duhh. I remember our pact."

"No, more than that. We see how dumb people will be willing to believe we are."

Please... Please...

"Okay. Sure. We'll call it the Go With It plan."

A/N: it's my first story, so constructive criticism would be appreciated, and please go easy on bashing. Please and thank you.