Disclaimer: I have an unhealthy obsession with a fictional boy. Ah well, at least I’m not alone. You all know I’m not JKR, so there’s no use telling you otherwise. If you cared who I was, you’d read my author information, or whatever it’s called. If you’ve seen it in a HP book, it’s probably not mine.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Chapter Eight: The Wizard Wheezes of Weasleys and Whittingheimer
The attic was cleaned and all the furniture either vanished or restored in a matter of minutes. I was sitting happily on a recently conjured (and thankfully clean) perch. Fred and George were discussing the latest of their joke shop inventions to Harry, Hermione and Ginny, who were all seated in large, dark green velvet armchairs.
“And this here is an Ink-Transferring Quill,” said Fred, pulling a completely harmless looking quill from a box that he and George had fetched from their room, and handing it to Hermoine, who was nearest.
“What does it do, exactly?” asked Hermione, fingering the quill.
In reply, George conjured a piece of parchment, and pulled another of the quills from the box. He screwed up his face, apparently thinking hard, and touched the top of the quill to his temple. Then, his face returning back to normal, he dipped the quill in an inkbottle, then traced “I AM GRED” on the parchment. But the words appeared not on the paper, but on Fred’s forehead.
He then screwed up his face again, touching the quill to his temple, and traced “I AM FORGE,” though, this time the writing appeared on his own forehead.
“That reminds me of Umbridge’s quill,” said Harry, rubbing the scars reading ‘I must not tell lies’ on the back of his right hand. “Does it hurt?”
“Not at all,” said George. “That was one of the bugs we had to work out. The person being written on won’t feel a thing.”
“And that’s where we got the idea in the first place. You know, Umbridge,” added Fred.
“Watch this “” said George quickly as everyone looked up at the sound of footprints ascending the stairs toward the attic. He exchanged looks with Fred, who nodded and took a quill.
Both screwed up their face at the same time, touched the quills to their temples and each wrote something on the parchment.
The door of the attic opened and Ron and Luna came in, tousle-haired, and grinning. On Ron’s and Luna’s foreheads, different messages were scrawled in very familiar handwriting. Ron’s forehead read: “I SNOG LUNA LOVEGOOD”, while Luna’s read “I ENJOY IT.” Harry and Ginny immediately burst out laughing. Hermione gave a small smile.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
After Mrs. Weasley had approved the cleaning job on the attic, everybody went downstairs for lunch. Thankfully, Fred had borrowed Pig to send a letter, so at least I didn’t have to listen to him ramble. Fred and George had removed the messages off Ron’s and Luna’s foreheads. Mrs. Weasley was humming to herself as she prepared sandwiches, obviously in a good mood. Fred and George exchanged significant looks.
“So, Mum, do you mind if we all go to the shop today? I mean, can we take Harry, Ginny, Ron, Hermione, Luna, etc?” asked Fred, looking eager.
“Well…” said Mrs. Weasley, “I suppose, but “”
“Don’t worry, Mum, we’ll be careful!” said George. “We could just do side-along-apparation, if you like, it’s much safer.”
“All right then,” said Mrs. Weasley, putting the plate of sandwiches on the table.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
After eating as much sandwiches as they could hold, the group going to Diagon Alley got ready to leave. Fred linked his arms with Ginny and Harry, Hermione linked arms with Harry. George managed to separate Ron and Luna, and put one on each of his arms. As I saw they were about to leave me behind, I flew at the last moment to Harry’s shoulder.
All I can say of that method of travel is that I never want to do it again.
“Hedwig!” exclaimed Harry upon finding me perched on his shoulder. “You just can’t be left out, can you?”
“Nah, she has probably just been dying to see our shop,” said Fred. “Welcome, everyone, to Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes! We closed it specially so we could show you with out customers interrupting.” He gestured around at the brightly colored shop.
Shelves were lined up one after another, almost overflowing with merchandise. Fred and George, who were wearing their lime green dragon-hide jackets, surveyed the place with obvious pride.
“We kept it closed today just so we could give you the grand tour,” said George.
“Oi! Rachel! Are you in here?” called Fred. He then turned back to face the group, “Rachel Whittingheimer, just hired her a week ago.”
“Fred fancies the bajeebers out of her “,” whispered George, but he stopped.
“Allo, Fred!” came a voice from behind a shelf, “Allo, George!”
One of the most peculiar girls I have ever seen walked over. Well, actually she didn’t walk, she rolled. She was wearing lime green rollerblades that exactly matched the color of her dragon hide jacket, and her eyes. Apparently it was part of the shop uniform. Her dark red hair was very short and spiked in the back; her fringe covered one of her eyes. A patch of freckles sprinkled across her nose. She also was wearing jeans and a bright red t-shirt depicting a yellow rabbit, it said: ‘school prepares you for the real world, which also sucks.’
Everybody just stared at her for a moment, until she said, “Hey, Fred, George, what’s that on your “ ah! Ink-Transferring Quill?”
“Naturally,” said George, inclining his head.
“So, who are all these?” asked Rachel, gesturing around at them all.
“Oh “ er “ hi, I’m Harry,” said Harry.
“Ah, yes,” said Rachel. I felt Harry stiffen, as though sure that she was about to mention that he was ‘The Boy Who Lived’. She didn’t however; she merely smiled widely and said, “Our sponsor. If it weren’t for you, I’d be a bus girl at the Leaky Cauldron.”
“I “ er “ Thanks,” said Harry, looking pleased.
“I’m Hermione Granger, a friend of Harry’s,” said Hermione, holding out her hand for Rachel to shake.
“Of course, you’re the brains of the operation!” said Rachel. “Fred and George have told me all about you, and from what I’ve heard and deduced, George did fancy you at some point. Fourth, fifth year, around that time…” she looked over at George as though to confirm this.
Hermione looked shocked, George merely shrugged. “I did, you know.”
“You did?” asked Ron incredulously.
“You’d be Ron, I suppose, and you are Ginny, of course!” said Rachel, shaking hands with them both. “But I’m afraid I don’t know this kid, here,” she said, indicating Luna.
“She’s my “” began Ginny, but Ron cut her off.
“She’s my girlfriend,” he said proudly.
“Well, now that you’re all acquainted, Fred and I have some business in the back,” said George. “Rachel will show you around the shop.”
George started to walk toward the back of the shop, but had to stop to grab Fred by the arm and drag him along. “Ah, c’mon Fred, put your eyes back in, will you? We’ve enough love in the air without you contributing to it.” And Fred was forced to oblige.
“So, what about you?” asked Harry, barely concealing a smile behind a quizzical look.
“I’m a muggle born, along with my twin brother Max, and my elder sister, Kirsten.”
Hermione looked rather pleased with this information, and questioned Rachel farther. “What house were you in?”
“I was in Gryffindor, in Fred and George’s year. Best years of my life. See, I’m the youngest in my family, (by 2 minutes and 46 seconds) and the tomboy as well. My sister Kirsten was put into Ravenclaw, but still managed to hook up with Charlie Weasley. She used to have a thing for punk rock band members, but she found brawny dragon tamers more… to her taste. My brother Max “ Or, Maxmillion, as he insists “ was sorted into Ravenclaw, like Kirsten. But unlike Kirsten, he is very stuck up, snotty, rude, arrogant, conceited, annoying, discourteous, foul, putrid, uncivil, smug, vain, rotten, rancid, maddening, irritating, exasperating, galling, nauseating “”
“I “ er “ think we have the general idea of Max’s character,” cut in Harry.
“I think he sounds a lot like Percy,” shrugged Ginny, who had obviously not forgiven her older brother yet for insulting them.
“What about the rest of your siblings?” asked Harry tentatively. I, for one, didn’t know that somebody could shoot that many adjectives out of their mouth in such a short space of time. Rachel had quite the vocabulary for her brother.
“Kirsten is very sweet and giving, but she is also very funny, and, like I said, has a thing for Charlie,” said Rachel.
“Who do you ‘have a thing for’?” asked Ginny, smirking.
“No one, really…” she said airily, as though waving the question away. “I’ve not the time, nor the need for blokes. Much too troublesome, if you ask me,” she said. “My sister is dreadfully girly, but I like her just the same. And of course, it’s not like I could just hang out with Max. Either I’d kill him, or he’d attempt to kill me. I mean “ I still like boys, but only to joke around with.”
Ginny and Hermione exchanged skeptical looks.
“So, how about that tour?” asked Rachel happily.
She led the group between shelves, pointing out inventions.
“That there is our Blink-Away-Ink, somebody will start writing with it, and as soon as they blink, all the writing’s gone, and they have to start all over again! And our Two-Question-Chew, perfect for divulging a total of two true secrets from your chosen victim.”
“‘Mazing…” mumbled Ron. “Pure, evil, genius…”
“And a newer, more muggle related invention: Mood-Swing-Contacts, which I’m wearing at the moment. I hated wearing glasses, and the summer after my third year, I got contact lenses. But they were so boring. But these “ these are just fantastic. Look, when I’m in a good mood, which is quite usual, my eyes are green, like now. When I’m angry, little flames appear where my iris should be. When I’m sad, they turn blue. When I’m scheming, or planning an evil prank on one of my beloved siblings “ usually Max “ my eyes go yellow and hawk-like. When I’m annoyed, they go silver. My natural eye color is green, but depending on your natural eye color, the colors for the different moods are different.”
“That’s wicked!” exclaimed Ginny.
“Yes, not to mention, Max finds them quite irksome…” Rachel reflected happily.
“Is your goal in life to do everything in your power to annoy Max?” asked Hermione.
“No, but it is so rewarding,” said Rachel. She walked on to the next item. “Personal Bubbles, All you do is blow the bubble, it’ll surround you, making it impossible for anybody, or their voice to get through to you. It’ll also stop Jinxes, which makes it a personal favorite of several Aurors.”
“Aurors are buying from here?” asked Harry.
“Oh, yes, even if it’s just something silly, meant for privacy, like the Personal Bubble, they’re so uptight and cautious these days, they want anything that’ll protect them,” replied Rachel.
“What are these?” asked Luna, indicating bags filled with a smoky looking material.
“Ah, that’s a personal favorite of mine, it hasn’t really got a name yet, but it still works magnificently. All you do is open the bag; a bunch of smoky looking letters will arrange themselves in midair, spelling ‘Kick Me’, and you just point your wand where you want to kick your victim, and the sign will rush over and hit with such an impact, that the person will feel as though they’ve really been kicked. Best part of all is that the person will have ‘Kick Me’ written on their buttock all day, until the robes are washed.”
“Excellent!” said Harry exuberantly.
“Glad you like it,” smiled Rachel.
I heard distant footsteps. Fred and George were coming back.
“So, what do you think?” asked George.
“It’s marvelous!” said Hermione in awe.
“Absolutely ingenious!” said Ginny.
“I think it’s quite nice,” said Luna dreamily.
Ron was to busy intertwining his fingers with Luna to say anything. When Hermione saw this, her look of wonder turned to gloom.
“I see the Triwizard gold was put to very good use,” smiled Harry.
“I think we’d do well to head back,” said George, eyeing his watch. “Mum will probably send out a search party if we’re not back soon.”
“All right then,” said Fred, but it sounded to me like he would rather stay. “Let’s go like we did on the way here “ Ron, Luna, you go with George. The rest will go with me “ Rachel, do you mind closing up?”
“’Course not,” said Rachel happily.
George grabbed Ron and Luna, and disapparated. Everyone else had linked arms, I was on Harry’s shoulder, dreading the trip back, when the entrance to the shop flew open, and a blond haired boy ran inside.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
A Note from Me: You readers are soooo flippin’ lucky that I like you so much! I spent my whole weekend writing chapter nine! And I did a hecka good job! (In my opinion, anyway, I guess I’ll have to see how you like it when it’s out) Do you have any idea how satisfying it is to leave cliffhangers? REALLY SATISFYING! It makes me feel so evil inside! I think I need to practice my evil laugh! MUAH HA HA!
P.S. If you want to know what happens in chapter 9, I would suggest reviewing. Just a little hint!