CHAPTER 7
Bagman and Crouch
(Meeting Arthur Weasley’s Workmates)
[At the “Weezly” campsite at the Quidditch World Cup. The excellent joke about Archie and the Muggle dress has passed already. The Weasley’s, Harry, and Hermione are all seated around the sputtering little campfire, amid two boxes worth of discarded matches. Arthur Weasley is pointing out the people he knows from the Ministry to Harry and Hermione, because none of his own children really care.]
MR. WEASLEY: Yes, there goes Cuthbert Mockridge, Head of the Goblin Liaison Office…
HERMIONE: Fascinating!
MR. WEASLEY: Quite!…And that was Arnold Peasegood, an Obliviator.
HARRY: Accidental Magic Reversal Squad?
MR. WEASLEY: Yes, very good, Harry!…Ah, and there’s Gilbert Whimple.
HARRY: Er…how long has he had those horns?
HERMIONE: Harry, that’s not very nice, to just bring it up like that…
MR. WEASLEY: No, no, quite all right, he‘s had them quite a while. Gilbert’s with the Committee on Experimental Charms. And it looks like he’s coming over! (waves to Gilbert)
[Gilbert Whimple begins making his way toward them down the thoroughfare, dodging gaggles of excited teenagers and trying not to step on the many little children running around loose. Ron is less than thrilled to see him coming.]
RON: Dad, no!
MR. WEASLEY: Ron, for heaven’s sake!
[Harry and Hermione turn to Ron questioningly, as Fred and George share knowing looks. Ron is not to be dissuaded.]
RON: (indignant) Dad, he’s a total nutter!
HARRY: Why, what’s the matter with him?
[Fred and George lean forward, but before they can answer Harry, Mr. Weasley cuts them off firmly.]
MR. WEASLEY: There’s nothing the matter with him. He’s just a little…
FRED: Out of his tree?
GEORGE: Six hoops short of a Quidditch pitch?
[Mr. Weasley gives them a look that he must have learned from Molly.]
MR. WEASLEY: …Eccentric.
HERMIONE: Eccentric?
HARRY: Eccentric how?
RON: “Eccentric” as in he’s the reigning king of barmy.
MR. WEASLEY: Ron, keep your voice down, he’s right over there!
[Indeed, Gilbert is only one tent away from them--he’s held up by a wizard in an overcoat that shows him a variety of hot wands for sale. As Gilbert shakes the man off, Mr. Weasley continues in a lower tone.]
MR. WEASLEY: And he’s not barmy, he’s just got a bit of a speech impediment.
FRED: Dad, a lisp is a speech impediment.
GEORGE: Not speaking in anagrams.
[Harry is a bit thrown by this bit of news.]
HARRY: What? He speaks in…
RON: Anagrams, yeah. Total nutter, he is.
HARRY: I don’t believe it. That’s just…
RON: Well, see for yourself. Here he is.
[Gilbert, a cheerful-looking tall wizard, arrives at the group. He’s wearing an odd combination of tweed trousers and a brocade waistcoat, and has goat-like horns protruding from his forehead.]
GILBERT: Lelho, Ayeslew!
MR. WEASLEY: Hello there, Gilbert. How are you?
GILBERT: Fipsfing, skanth.
[Harry isn’t quite sure what to think about this odd Ministry employee. Ron and the twins suppress little snickers. Hermione, however, is in awe of Whimple’s verbal dexterity.]
MR. WEASLEY: These are three of my children, Gilbert--Ron, Fred, and George.
GILBERT: Lelho, Nor, Ferd, Reggeo.
MR. WEASLEY: And this is Hermione Granger.
GILBERT: Revy ecin ot etem you, Sims Ergnrag.
HERMIONE: Er…likewise, Mr. Whimple.
RON: (aside to Hermione) Yeah, spiffing to meet you, Miss Ergnrag.
HERMIONE: (whispers) Ron, don‘t make fun!
MR. WEASLEY: This is Harry Potter, Gilbert.
GILBERT: My! Eth Rahry Terpot?
HARRY: Uh…yeah. That’s me, all right.
RON: (aside to Harry) “Rahry Terpot…”
HARRY: (whispers) Oh, don’t be such a kerb, Nor.
FRED: (whispers) Hear that, a kerb! Oi, Reggeo, aren’t you going to stick up for our baby brother?
GEORGE: (whispers) You mean our “yabb throber,” Ferd.
[All four laugh. Hermione is glowering disapprovingly, and Mr. Weasley looks utterly embarrassed by his sons‘ behavior. Gilbert notices the laughter, and is a bit confused, though still cheery.]
GILBERT: Ah…Thaw’s nunfy?
FRED: Nothing, sir. Nothing nunfy at all…
MR. WEASLEY: Fred! Sorry about that, Gilbert.
GILBERT: It’s othning, it’s othning.
GEORGE: See, Dad? It’s othning, so othning to worry tabou.
MR. WEASLEY: George! Why don’t you and Fred go…somewhere else, for a moment?
FRED: Sure. Come along, Reggeo.
GEORGE: Right-o, Ferd. Nice to see you, Mr. Phimlew!
[Ferd and Reggeo…er, Fred and George disappear into their tent.]
MR. WEASLEY: I’m very sorry about those two, Gilbert. I’m sure they didn’t mean anything.
GILBERT: Neally, it’s rothing. I’ll mee you at the satch!
MR. WEASLEY: Yes, of course! Nice to see you.
GILBERT: (cheerfully) Don’t be tasting any wime on your way down to the pitch!
[Gilbert turns to leave. Ron and Harry glance at each other, then speak in undertones.]
HARRY: Did…Did he just warn us not to taste any wimes? What’re wimes?
RON: No idea. Hermione, what’s a wime?
HERMIONE: Don’t be ridiculous, he wasn’t telling us not to taste wimes. He said, “Don’t waste any time.”
HARRY: (dryly) Funny…I definitely heard “wime.”
RON: Well, I s’pose we’re both just going deaf then.
HERMIONE: Oh, Ron, for…Well, I’ll show you. (aloud) Mr. Whimple?
GILBERT: Yes, Griss Manger?
HERMIONE: Well, I just noticed…you’re not speaking in anagrams anymore.
GILBERT: Peg your bardon?
HERMIONE: Well, those last few things you said; those were spoonerisms, not anagrams.
[Pause. Everyone is tense, waiting to see how Gilbert will react.]
HERMIONE: (sheepish) Just saying.
GILBERT: (suddenly angry) Well, if you’re going to split hairs, I’m going to piss off!
[Gilbert storms away, leaving the foursome staring after him. Mr. Weasley‘s ears have started to go a little red.]
HERMIONE: I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to offend him, honest!
RON: Well, if you didn’t have to be such a wonk-ti-lal all the time…
ARTHUR: That’s enough, Nor! I mean, Ron! Listen, let’s just start putting lunch on, shall we?
And lunch was put on indeed. Incidentally, Mr. Weasley was not extended an invitation to Mr. Whimple’s “Tryminis Employees with Runsames Beginning in W” poliday harty yat thear.