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The Playful Potters Hustle
By Mojomig

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Category: Post-Hogwarts
Characters:None
Genres: Comedy
Warnings: None
Story is Complete
Rating: PG
Reviews: 12
Summary: The Potter's pranking steps up a notch. Poor Draco.
Hitcount: Story Total: 5107



Disclaimer: Harry Potter Publishing Rights © J.K.R. Note the opinions in this story are my own and in no way represent the owners of this site. This story subject to copyright law under transformative use. No compensation is made for this work.



Author's Notes:
This story was inspired by a UK TV show called Hustle. I hope you enjoy it...




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The Potter's Apartment, June

Harry was sitting in his favourite spot — on the balcony of his and Ginny's riverside apartment. The sunny was beaming down, and both Harry and Rena (their new pet cat), were enjoying the warming rays of the early summer. On Harry's lap, was a small plate, containing one of his homemade shortcake caramel squares. A culinary triumph they were, fusing together a layer of shortcake, a layer of chocolate and a top layer of sticky, sugary caramel. It was a true work of confectionary genius, an artery clogger and no mistake.

As Harry was about to take a bite from the delectable desert, he heard the front door go, and put the cake down.

"Harry, I'm home!" called Ginny from the front door.

"Hi sweetheart!" Harry shouted in reply.

A few seconds later, the beautiful redhead sashayed through the French doors and onto the balcony, gleefully clutching a brown, suede handbag. It was at this moment, that a most loving gesture resulted in some serious marital disharmony. Just as Ginny began to say, "Look at my new handbag…" Harry stood up to give his wife a hug, forgetting the plate on his lap.

It was one of those moments when time slowed, as in a dream. Both Ginny and Harry watched (in differing degrees of horror), as the plate was launched off Harry's legs. The caramel shortcake square was catapulted into the air, through which it spun its way across the balcony, landing with a splat. Sticky side down on the side of Ginny's brand new Louis Vuitton suede handbag.

Half an hour later, after the shouting stopped, after Ginny was persuaded that Harry did not need to be thrown off the balcony into the River Thames, and after Harry had pointed out that he was the most powerful wizard alive and could sort out the handbag, Harry was still in the doghouse. While his wife stomped about inside the apartment chuntering about stupid clumsy husbands, Harry sat in his chair on the balcony. Rena sat on his lap, enjoying the absent-minded stroking of his master. After a further hour, Harry came up with the perfect way to appease his wife, or at least distract her from her anger towards him.

"Ginny?" Harry called, as her saw his wife walk past the open French doors.

"What?" she demanded, with a voice that could unsettle a seasoned politician.

"I've thought up a new prank."

---

Two bottles of Cabernet Sauvignon and a dish of spaghetti Bolognese later, the Potters sat back down at their dining table with parchment and ink. This wasn't just a prank, it was a full-scale hustle, and they need the whole gang. Barely half an hour later, four snowy owls took off from the East of London. Since the war, Hedwig had had a brief fling with another Snowy, and the result was Harmony, Hercules and Henrietta, who also now lived with the Potters.

As for sending owls out with letters in the middle of London, it was no longer a problem. Hermione, in spite of her regular faux pas in the kitchen (it was as if she styled herself on Tim McInerny's character in Notting Hill), was still a brilliant witch, who worked as the Ministry's head spell creator. She had patented a spell, which allowed owls to fly invisibly to Muggles, and had revolutionised owl post in the Wizarding world.

---

Mystical Milli's bar, the next day

"Right then," concluded Harry. "Remus, Ron, you're going to set the trap — let everyone know when you've baited the hook. Fred and George, you're going to do the hard work on this one, reeling him in. Don't forget he's a twitchy so and so — it's got to be convincing, which is why you'll have the professor as an expert to lend credence to your story. Gin and I will provide support and make life interesting along the way for our target. Everyone clear what they're doing?"

A chorus of "yeps" and "you betchas" responded.

"Awesome," said Harry. "Time to toast the plan. MILLI!"

It was funny, but whenever Harry was in her bar, Milli always seemed to be on shift. As the attractive young witch sauntered over to the gang's table and sidled up to Harry, Ginny crossed her arms and looked aggressive, so the bar owner decided to tone it down a bit.

"Yes, Harry?" purred Milli, her voice as smooth as the Bailey's Irish Cream she served to underage witches.

"Twenty-one tequila shots please, Mills."

"Eighteen," overruled Ginny. "Come on Harry, you know I can't," she said wistfully, one hand rubbing her stomach.

"Sorry, petal. You know what my memory's like," said Harry, giving his wife a goofy grin.

"Is there anything we should know?" asked Remus

"There sure is," stated Ginny confidently. "Never eat oysters cooked by Hermione. I've got a terrible stomach. Healer Howser said I should keep off shellfish and alcohol for a couple of weeks."

Ron was just about to defend his wife's cooking when Milli returned with a silver tray, laden with tequila filled shot glasses, lime wedges and salt.

"Everyone set?" asked Ginny a few moments later, after the other six got themselves ready. "GO!"

Barely a few seconds after the race started, Minerva McGonagall had finished her three shots and was talking with Ginny about how young men couldn't take their drink.

"Well, I must be getting back to Hogwarts," the prim teacher declared, just as Fred, George and Ron coughed back their final shots.

"And I'm off to see the baby," said Ginny. "Don't drink too much, Harry."

"Yes dear," replied Harry, meekly, much to the amusement of his brothers-in-law.

---

The Constellation Room, Mystical Milli's bar, a few days later

As usual, the atmosphere in the exclusive, rich and snobby wizards' only room of Milli's bar was demure and refined. An elderly gentleman with a velvety top hat sat in one corner, smoking a pipe. At the bar, a young, blonde haired wizard with a permanently snooty expression was sipping a Pina Colada.

About ten minutes later, a great hulk of a man squeezed in through the doorway, shuffled over to the polished black marble bar and plopped down on to the stool next to the young blonde.

"Double scotch," said the newcomer in a thick, hard-as-granite Scottish accent. Then he pulled out a Daily Prophet and began to read. After a few minutes, the large Scotsman spoke out loud, more to himself than anyone else.

"Phew, will ye have a look at that bad boy?" He turned his head towards the blonde, whose attention had been caught by the large man's outburst.

"Have a look laddie," the man said to the blonde, proffering his paper. "Some bunch o' druids has dug up some old dark relic."

The young wizard took the Daily Prophet and laid it on the bar in front of him. His eyes flitted across the type, excited by the thought of adding a rare dark artefact to his borderline-legal collection. So engrossed was he, that he did not notice another wizard come up behind him. A wizard with red hair and an Auror's badge.

"Aren't you a bit criminal to be allowed in a public place, Malfoy?" asked Ron, sarcastically.

"Aren't you a bit poor to be in here, Weasley?" retorted Draco Malfoy.

"Whatever, Draco. No point you trying to get hold of that artefact, by the way."

"And why's that Weasel?"

"For one thing, owning it would be illegal and second, the Ministry has sent Harry to recover it, so it doesn't get into the wrong hands. Anyway Blondie, I'd love to stay and chat but I've got criminals to catch."

"What are you doing in here anyway?" asked Malfoy.

"Just keeping an eye on the local riff-raff, Draco."

"Bite me!"

As Ron left the bar, Malfoy went back to the article. "Merlin!" he called out suddenly.

"Aye, kiddo," said the burly Scotsman. It's gonna cost someone a large sum o' cash."

"Not sure I could raise over five million in time. Damn. I would have loved to put one over on Potter," spat out the blonde.

"Maybe I can help ye out a little bit, young 'un. I'm not a poor man myself."

---

Stonehenge, midnight, a few more days later

Draco Apparated to the location given to him by the mysterious contact who was named in the Daily Prophet. On arriving at the ancient site, he saw five people waiting for him. Four appeared to be monks of some description, who wore long brown hassocks with large floppy hoods. The fifth person, which surprised Draco the most, was Professor McGonagall.

"Greetings, Mr. Malfoy," said one of the monks. "I see you received my message."

"Well clearly," retorted the ex-Slytherin student.

"Good evening, Mr. Malfoy," spoke the stern voice of Hogwarts' Transfiguration professor.

"Professor," replied Draco stiffly. He had always found the old Scotswoman a little disconcerting.

One of the monks was carrying an ancient looking scroll, while two others carried a dark wooden casket between them.

"Come Brother Frank, bring forth the scripture so that young Mr. Malfoy may begin the tests," spoke the monk who had originally greeted the blonde wizard.

"Yes, Brother Graham. Professor, if you will…"

McGonagall and the second monk stepped forward towards Draco. Unrolling the scroll, the monk known as Brother Frank continued.

"This is the ancient scroll uncovered with the casket of the Great McMufinmeel. It is written in a long forgotten form of Gaelic that few can interpret. Professor McGonagall happens to be one of the world's leading authorities on the language, so we have invited her here to independently verify our interpretation. We hoped this would provide you additional peace of mind."

"I appreciate your consideration," responded Draco, a little insincerely. McGonagall's presence was however, a comfort.

"The writings on the scroll foretell that a suitable heir will come forward to claim this mighty artefact," began Brother Graham. "It describes of three tasks that must be passed, in order for the claimant to prove his worth. Our price for selling this artefact to you and arranging the tasks is five million, one hundred and thirty eight thousand and eight Galleons. Do you wish to proceed?"

"First, tell me about the three tasks. What are they?" asked the Slytherin warily.

"A wise question, young Mr. Malfoy," said Brother Graham, with an incredibly patronising tone. "According to the scroll, the first task is to spend a night under the trees."

"The second task," continued Brother Frank. "Is to spend a night under the stars."

"The third and final task is the simplest of all," picked up Brother Graham.

"It is simply to open the casket," finished Brother Frank.

"So," said Malfoy. "A bit of camping and opening a box. Even a Hufflepuff could manage that. Professor, is this really what the scroll says?"

Professor McGonagall made a show of adjusting her glasses and reading through the document. After a few minutes, she looked up at her former student. "Yes, Mr. Malfoy, the script reads as these brothers have told you."

"Then I will proceed," he stated confidently.

---

That night

The first test, as it was explained to the young Mr. Malfoy, was to spend a night under the trees. However, when the detail of the task was examined, it turned out the location was specified by the ancient scroll, and turned out to be the Forbidden Forest at Hogwarts. The other important stipulation was that the testee was not permitted to make use of any magic during the night.

And so, Draco Malfoy found himself camping in a small hollow, deep in the heart of the Forbidden Forest. He was not allowed a tent or his wand, but had been assured that help would come if anything life threatening should occur.

Not wanting to attract bugs, moths or any other creatures, Malfoy switched off his oil lamp at around 11pm, and tried to sleep.

Surprisingly, Malfoy found sleep easy to come by. This may have been due to the mild sleeping spell that Ginny had cast on him from her hiding place in the trees. While the blonde wizard slept, Harry crept into the hollow and placed some pieces of dead cow on top of his green sleeping bag.

It was only about ten minutes until the Thestrals began to collect. A few minutes later, as Ginny's spell wore off, Draco was startled awake by the site of seven of the gruesome winged horses chowing down on his now blood soaked sleeping bag.

"AAAAAARRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHH!" screamed the Slytherin, causing the Thestrals to panic. One managed to get his cloak, which was hanging on a nearby bush caught on its wing, and ran around trying to remove it. Draco chased after it, trying to retrieve the cloak as it was his favourite from the Patil & Brown designer collection.

An hour later, after Draco had hurled all the pieces of cow carcass as far from his camp as possible and chased away the Thestrals, he settled back down to sleep. He actually managed to fall asleep naturally this time, only to be awoken minutes later by two baying wolves.

Had it been light, he would have noticed that the larger wolf had very dark fur, whilst the smaller had a reddish tinge to its coat. But as he was too busy trying to scare them out of his hollow with a woeful lack of success he did not consider the finer details of their colouring.

And so the night was a long one for Draco Malfoy. He never really slept and finally watched as dawn's long grey fingers infiltrated the night. The assured, confident young man got up skittish and nervous.

---

The next night

It is often said that there is no rest for the wicked. A true saying, in this case, as Draco was found the next night huddled in the shelter of a boulder at the top of a mountain in the Scottish highlands. The same rules applied — no magic and no tent — just a lot of old fashioned willpower.

By about 9pm, Draco could no longer feel his feet and hands for the cold. Even in June, being three thousand feet up a draughty Scottish mountain was freezing. AS he sat in the dwindling light, Draco thought he heard a noise a little further down the mountain.

Peering out into the murk, he thought he saw a large shape lumbering towards him. It couldn't be, could it? He shook his eyes and looked again, but there was nothing. Suddenly, from the other side of the summit, a great roar rang out, scaring Draco out of his wits.

"The artefact, the artefact…" he chanted to himself, trying to focus on what he was trying to achieve, but the sound of large hairy footsteps clambering across the cairns was difficult to ignore.

Eventually, just as Draco was about to lose control of his bladder, the crashing sounds and lumbering footsteps died away. His respite was not long lasting however, as a herd of mountain goats slowly grazed their way up to the mountain summit Draco occupied. The restless goats did not appreciate an intruder on their patch, so instead of settling down to sleep, they bleated for about four hours and occasionally even tried to eat his blanket.

Finally, at about four in the morning, Draco decided to make a bacon sandwich. He unwrapped the bacon and left it on a rock while he set up the small camping stove. While the entire premise of 'cooking' would usually be so far beneath a Malfoy it came out on the other side of the world, he had made an exception in his quest to secure this amazing artefact.

So while he was attaching the gas canister to the burner, Draco did not notice the bald-headed eagle swoop down and pinch the bacon. That would make a tasty treat for the baby eagles that were back at the nest!

"AAAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGGGHHHHHHH!" cried Draco, for the second time in two days.

---

Stonehenge, the third night

On the third night Draco returned to Stonehenge as instructed by the strange monks. The same four monks were present, one carrying a scroll, two carrying the casket and one holding his hands out in greeting.

"Good evening, Mr. Malfoy. I see you have successfully made it through the first two tasks," said Brother Graham, in the same silky voice he used before.

"Clearly," stated Draco. "They were simple for such a prominent pure-blooded wizard, such as myself."

One of the wizards carrying the casket expertly managed to stifle a laugh and cover it with a hacking cough.

"Please forgive Brother Howard, Mr. Malfoy. He suffers greatly with Consumption, and the cold air does nothing for his lungs," explained Brother Graham smoothly.

"Let's get on with it, shall we?" asked Draco, keen to get his hands on the artefact.

"Very well, Mr. Malfoy. Do you have the money?" asked Brother Frank.

Draco handed over a Muggle style briefcase, which was passed by Brother Graham to Brother Howard, as Brother Gertrude brought forward the casket.

"Quite simply, Mr. Malfoy," began Brother Graham.

"You just have to open the casket," finished Brother Frank.

"Good luck," said Brother Graham.

"It's been a pleasure," said Brother Frank.

Draco knelt down to where the fourth monk had placed the casket on the dewy grass. The moonlight lit the standing stones with a kind of eerie majesty. A perfect setting for my claiming this magnificent artefact, thought Draco.

"Behold," began Brothers Frank and Graham together. "The wonder that is the artefact…"

But Draco wasn't listening. He touched the lid of the casket, and feeling no recriminations, gently lifted the lid. He looked down into the dark of the box. Seeing nothing, he tilted it gently towards the moon, so that the silver light could illuminate inside the dark wooden box. Finally, he saw it — the codpiece of the Mighty McMufinMeel, ancient Scottish warrior and dark wizard of the sixth century.

Reaching into the casket, Draco touched the centuries old fabric. But as his fingers made contact with the decayed and crusty surface, it crumbled into dust.

Instinctively, Draco looked up, to shout at the monks, but found he was alone. Not a creature stirred on Salisbury Plain, not even a magical mouse.

Suddenly, another person appeared at his shoulder — Harry Potter. Of all the people Draco did not want to see right now, Potter was definitely top of the list.

"Gees Draco," said Harry, as he peered into the box. "The Ministry would have killed me if I'd just blown five million Galleons on a box of dust."

---

Later that night

Draco finally stumbled into his vast, ostentatious home at about four in the morning. After staring into the casket for about half an hour, he Apparated to Mystical Milli's and tried to drink himself into a coma. Unfortunately for him, Remus Lupin and Ron were hidden in a corner, secretly casting sobriety charms every so often.

In the morning, although it was actually about three thirty in the afternoon, Draco Malfoy made it downstairs, only to find the Muggle briefcase containing his half of the money and a note:

You have been pranked by the Playful Potters and their dastardly companions.

Thanks for the memories. Enjoy your dust!
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