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SIYE Time:14:19 on 29th March 2024
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Beach Blanket Bat Bogey
By Spenser Hemmingway

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Category: Alternate Universe, Post-Hogwarts
Characters:All, All
Genres: Action/Adventure, Humor, Songfic
Warnings: None
Story is Complete
Rating: PG
Reviews: 4
Summary: “You know we're goin' to Surf City, gonna have some fun.” Harry, Ginny and friends make use of a three day layover in California for a little sun, surf and music! Frankie and Annette are covering their eyes at the fun and Ron at Ginny’s driving. “Kowabunga dudes!”
Hitcount: Story Total: 4894



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:
My sincere apologies to all the bands whose music I played with, and to Mr. Alan Rickman (Professor Severus Snape) whose death I’ve enjoyed more than once. A special thanks to Torak for contributing to the song parodies and introducing me to Irn Bru soda.




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Beach Blanket Bat Bogey

By Spenser Hemmingway


"Surfing is almost a way to fly."–Jeff Hakman


*****





Well, I'm goin' out west where I belong.
Where the days are short and the nights are long.
Where they walk and I'll walk;
They twist and I'll twist;
They shimmy and I'll shimmy;
They fly and I'll fly.
Well they're out there a'havin' fun
In that warm California sun.



“Pull your broom in a bit closer Ron,” Harry shouted over his shoulder. He was pleased to see that he need not have bothered. His best friend had already corrected his position in our tight formation.

“Harry these hot winds are driving me away from you,” Ginny called to him from his left. The turbulents threatened to move her onto where I was flying, but they were hitting me as well, and a collision would have been easy to avoid.

“They’re called Santa Ana winds Ginny. Be careful!” I shouted to her.

She had been off doing battle with a soda vending machine when I explained them earlier. The one constant in the universe might be change, but that rule doesn’t apply to those contraptions…unless you have a wand. The California can blow at near hurricane force, and they’re a real she-bear if you’re dealing with forest fires. Santa Anas can also be fairly noisy at our altitude especially in the mountains. I was surprised that she heard me, smiled, and nodded in reply.

As a group, we rotated in a half circle about Harry until we were flying upside down. It was a simple enough maneuver, one we had all done a number of times, but it had to be flawless that day. We had paying customers watching us. Just as we rehearsed, we proceeded to nosedive toward the ground two thousand feet below. You would probably have expected us to simply pull up at the last moment and right ourselves. Nah, that’s too pass. Actually, it would be more accurate to say that we were all too insane.

At about five hundred feet we hit the brakes, or at least our brooms did. As many times as we had bothered Harry about his installing those seatbelts we wanted, you would think that he might finally have taken us seriously. No, that might make sense. Harry Potter on a broom was occasionally as crazy as I was in general. It didn’t matter that when the brooms stopped on a Knut the four of us kept going. I could already hear Hermione shouting at us about it–-at our headstones.

Now if any of you have read my stories, you’ve no doubt learned at least three important things. First, they have little to do with what Harry’s biographer put into and after her seventh book. Second, you really don’t want to read mine on a full stomach. Finally, I very rarely allow anyone to die in my stories, especially canon characters. At maybe a hundred and fifty feet in the air we collectively reached out with our hands and summoned our brooms back to us. We retrieved, re-boarded, and regained our forward/upward momentum so close to the ground I could see a Gila monster screaming as he dove for cover.

The Thunderclap Three Thousands had been designed and built for hard flying under extreme conditions. They were nowhere as fast as good racing or Quidditch brooms. Still, it only took us three or four seconds to take them back up to a thousand or so feet. Harry lifted one hand away from his broom, and first gave a whirling motion, and then pointed to the mock ghost town below us. We understood the prearranged signal. It was time to give the audience the big whiz-bang finale.

For this last stunt…excuse me…demonstration of the brooms’ capabilities, we knew that we should bring the Thunderclaps safely into the wind and greatly reduce our speed. Naturally we did neither. What fun would that be? Instead we flew them exactly perpendicular to the force of the Santa Ana, allowing it to slam into us on our right.

Harry and Ginny moved forward several yards and brought the broomsticks to within a couple feet side-by-side of each other. Ginny took the lead then, and, pulling her knees in, jumped up, shot her left leg over to Harry’s Thunderclap, and then stood with one foot on each broom. Harry did the same thing a moment later followed by Ron and me in turn. Now slowing to only fifteen miles per hour, and trying our best to ignore the crosswind, we brought them right up the main street. Again stopping suddenly, but this time jumping free, we ran to a halt just in front of the small crowd. Incredibly no one broke an ankle. I told you we were a bit insane that day.

We each reached out our right hands, and, without a spoken word, the Thunderclaps instantly returned to us. Only then did everyone applaud and the fan club run up to join us. The contracts and the wheeling-dealing could wait a few minutes. Hermione looked as if she was about to crack Ron’s bones with that hug. We all knew what a white-knuckle aviator she was.

“Ronald Weasley, I swear that I am going to kill you myself if you ever do anything like that again! If you don’t survive another such experience, then you will merely be showing the courtesy of saving me the trouble! Two years we’ve been married! I’m not even twenty-one until this fall, but you’re still determined to make me a young widow!”

Ginny whispered something to Harry that made him start laughing. “Well don’t just stand there. Kiss her you crazy barnstormer,” she told her brother then. He already was.

“So, Luni do you think that your sweetie pie, honeybunch Rolf could have pulled off that exhibition?” I asked her.

“I wish that you would stop obsessing over him Spenser. He’s probably just a fictional character that Harry’s biographer made up. Are all Americans so compulsively jealous all the time?”

“All those Americans haven’t met one particular pretty blond girl who appears in a series of bestselling books. I am not jealous either. I’m just…okay I’m jealous. Can we change the subject?”

I saw then that I was about to get my wish. Quickly approaching us from the makeshift viewing area were two men I knew to be from the American Bureau of Magic. With them was an apparently very senior military officer (if not a Wizard, he would have to be to know our little secret) and the great Aloysius Bear. Okay, great as in being my great uncle, and he only answered to Smokey. He was also extremely high up in the Bureau. It had always been rumored that he was one of those who quietly headed the organization.

“Hey kid, great show!” he began in his normal loud voice. Many people, when they first meet Uncle Smokey, wonder why he isn’t wearing a cowboy hat since he comes across as cut from that cloth. In fact, he and my late grandpa Theo had been drinking buddies with the likes of John Wayne, John Ford, and Ernest Hemingway (no relation). “Oh, excuse me. This is General Quartermonger,” he quickly added.

“This is a wonderful pleasure for me. I’ve heard a great deal about all of you,” the general began as he shook each of our hands in turn. “Mr. Ron Weasley…and Ginny, isn’t it? I had the opportunity to meet your brother Charlie at his Romanian dragon preserve last winter. Smokey here arranged the trip. Magnificent creatures! Your brother naturally spoke very fondly of you, and reminded me that I should…” The general paused there and seemed to be extremely embarrassed about something. “…I should apologize for shooting down that invisible zeppelin you were…utilizing two summers ago.”

“Ah, that was you, was it?” Ginny pretended to be angry at the man, but his repentant expression instead made her laugh.

“We’re sorry in turn for what we did to your two fighter jets,” Harry added.

“Harry, I think that you can both make it up to each other. The general here wants eight of your brooms. The Bureau will take another ten, but we’ll need them before the end of the year.” Uncle Smokey was grinning like a drunken college kid. I waited for the other shoe to drop.

“That’s an easy enough order to fill since the elves have already begun the work, and you can take these four to start. Excuse me though sir. Why do Muggles…that is non-Magics, why do they need brooms?” Harry asked.

All of us suspected what the answer was. It’s another long story, but a couple years before we had visited Nevada’s Sepulveda Wizarding Academy which was collocated with a supposedly secret installation called Area Fifty-One. American Wizards, the few of us in the United States, worked very closely with the Muggles in certain fields such as the movie industry, beer-making, and, of cours,e clandestine technologies. Many commonplace things that you’ve come to know had their origins in the Wizarding world–-seedless watermelons, the saxophone, stealth bombers, leg waxing, etc.

“That’s a fair question Harry,” Quartermonger admitted. “We do have Witches and Wizards working for the military; a few anyway. Mr. Bear’s people continue to recruit the best and the brightest away from us. These brooms of yours would be of enormous benefit to our Arctic outposts where often it is easier to protect the pilots from the cold than it is our aircraft.”

That made sense, and Harry nodding showed that he agreed. The talk shifted then to contracts and Dollar-to-Galleon conversions and the like. Ginny, being the broom-building business’ manager, dealt with most of that. After twenty minutes of good-natured haggling, Ginny rewarded Harry with a quick kiss for his attempts to at least pretend to be interested in the conversation. She mercifully shooed Harry, Luna, and me away so that we wouldn’t be fitfully dreaming of ledger sheets all that night. Ron and Hermione had snuck off ten minutes before.

Over the next half-hour we explored the western ghost town, marveling at how historically accurate the reproduction was. The town was a mock-up, intended for anyone who managed to wander onto the unfenced yet heavily guarded military installation. In reality, the complex was meant for exactly what we had used it that day–-a test site. Nowhere as big as Area Fifty-One, it still had the advantage of being much closer to the Los Angeles’ metropolitan community. On the other hand, the personnel working in the underground base couldn’t duck out as easily for an evening of gambling in Las Vegas.

“So, Harry, do you ever wish that you had become an Auror like the character in your biography did?” I asked him then. I had been imagining him dressed up as Marshall Dillon and was wondering how he would react to a related question. “You’d be great at saving schoolmarms and other damsels in distress. Say, why are our spurs jangling here as we walk? We’re not wearing any.”

“Actually I’ve been toying with the idea of becoming an actor. What do you think Spense? Maybe I could star in my own Harry Potter movies.” He caught me off guard with my own gag.

“You really are much too old Harry. I understand that the boy they’ve asked to portray you in fact does bear a striking resemblance.” Luna obviously didn’t realize that we weren’t serious. You had to love the girl. “Perhaps you could do stage work. Maybe there will be some more open auditions for celebrity Wizard mud wrestling this upcoming… Oh, is that a genuine cowboy saloon? It looks just like the one we saw on the teddy-vision during our holiday last year.”

“Uhm…yes, it is Luna.” She was inside before I could finish speaking. “You have to understand Harry; Rolf is bad enough, but the girl developed a big crush on Little Joe Cartwright. Wouldn’t you know it?”

At some point in his life Harry must have seen Bonanza; he was laughing as he stepped past me and held open the one swinging bar door. As I moved inside, I expected to find Luna playing with an old rinky-tink piano, or perhaps examining the antique whiskey bottles stacked there beneath a portrait of Diamond Lil. Shoot, I wouldn’t have been surprised to have Luna up on stage dancing the cancan. I definitely wasn’t expecting to see her at a table with Ron, Hermione, and Uncle Smokey. Ginny walked up to them there and set down a tray with a number of open bottles.

“Harry I’m afraid that it’s just cold sarsaparilla. Even if we did drink redeye, the Muggles here don’t recognize Wizarding legal age.” She finally looked over in our direction and smiled.

“Harry what’s wrong?” Hermione asked in her most sober voice. She stood then to accentuate her words.

“What? What do you mean?” he asked back. His face had gone serious to match the changed mood.

“You’ve been in the same room with Ginny for thirty seconds now, and we haven’t gotten to see the obligatory passionate kiss.”

Hermione grinned then revealing her joke. All of us were amazed that she had made one, and Ron pretended to gently punch her in the arm as was her habit with him. I had to admit though that Harry and Ginny were doing a great job of obliging her. Uncle Smokey loved it too. He really was a hopeless romantic.

“Mr. Bear, how did you beat us to this end of town?” Harry finally asked after coming up for air.

“Well son, your missus here pushed through a great deal…for you anyway. We wrapped things up and took a shortcut through the tunnels. We’ve been expecting you.”

“Harry, I finally negotiated a thousand Galleon a broom contract, with maintenance service and a very nice bonus if we can complete the work before September.”

“That’s fantastic Ginny! I suppose that we had better be getting back to Hogsmeade…after lunch I mean. What now? What’s wrong?”

“I’m afraid that it was a bit too good for you son,” my uncle answered for her. “The Wizarding Accounting Office will have to evoke a three-day wait before any of us can put quill to parchment. They consider it some sort of cooling off period. I hate to say it kid, but it’s partly because you’re a foreign outfit.”

“This sounds like a barrel full of ogre…”

“No Ron, it’s fine…really.” Harry placed a calming hand on his brother-in-law’s shoulder, and he saw that it did help.

“We just need to find something to occupy us for three days.” Ginny moved to a chair, sat down, and began to go over the situation in her head. In point of fact, we all were. “Let’s see…we’re in southern California, it’s the first week of June, sunny, and we have that antique Woody station wagon Mr. Bear rented for us.”

“I’ve always wanted to take the guided tour of the Los Angeles aqueducts. Their citywide drainage system is legendary.” This time Hermione wasn’t joking.

“Spenser why are you grinning like that? You know how much it scares me sometimes.” Luna was smiling as well though.

“I know what he’s thinking kids, and I’ve already taken the liberty of getting you a house over there,” Uncle Smokey told them before I could say anything. “I don’t suppose any of you brought your swimsuits, did you?”


*****



Got a '30 Ford wagon and we call it a Woody.
(Surf City, here we come)
You know it's not very cherry; it's an oldie but a goody.
(Surf City, here we come)
Well, it ain't a Firebolt, but you gotta know,
It still gets Ginny where she wants to go

And we're goin' to Surf City, 'cause it's two to one.
You know we're goin' to Surf City, gonna have some fun.
Yeah, we're goin' to Surf City, 'cause it's two to one.
You know we're goin' to Surf City, gonna have some fun, now.
Two Witches for every Wizard!


“There it is on the left Ginny. Let’s see…right.”

“You said left Harry!” she yelled as we went cutting back then forth across the heavy traffic. Fortunately, Freightliner installs excellent breaks on their diesel trucks. The little old lady with the white gardenia hat and the cherry-red hotrod was able to miss us as well. It was too bad about that hotdog vender on the sidewalk.

“Ron…I will never, ever complain about flying with you again,” Hermione quietly told him. Ron was so white himself that I think even his hair was paling. You don’t need to ask. Yes, Luna was sleeping through the wild ride.

“Ginny please use the clutch when you shift gears. Aagh! Do not use the emergency brake that way!” I wasn’t regretting being talked into teaching the girl to drive, at least not yet, but the others might have been. “Harry what’s the next turn?”

“We go north on Tsunami Road, and after a quarter mile… Watch out for those nuns in the crosswalk!”

Kathud!

“Holy…l iterally!” Harry said under his breath.

“It’s all good…they’re okay. One of them just threw her half-empty beer bottle after us,” Ron whimpered. “Ginny I’m sorry about the time when you were eight, and I dressed up your favorite doll as a troll. Please don’t kill us!”

“That was you? There’s Kowabunga Court!”

She pulled hard on the steering wheel, sending the nose of the Woody left down the new street, and imbedding all of us in the right side of the station wagon. There were only three houses in sight, and we knew we wanted the big blue one. Uncle Smokey was at the top of the driveway waving to us. At the last second Ginny hit the brakes, and again spun the wheel. We slid in almost sideways, stopping just a few feet short of the man. True to his character, he didn’t budge an inch.

“So ends your first lesson Ginny,” Harry told her. Both of them were grinning.

“You really did pretty well,” I added. “That’s actually how some people drive on the California freeways. You also kept to the right–-unlike Hermione the first time she tried driving over here.” The girl swatted me from the back seat, but turning around, I saw that she was finally smiling. Even Ron was attempting to grin (his color was returning).

As we climbed out of the car, we began our first survey of the rented house. It seemed to be very nice, and I would have expected no less from Smokey Bear. We were maybe forty yards from the beachhead and had an incredible view of the ocean below us. The structures on the short street were on a section of hard rock with a slight bit of elevation. I knew this was a little rare for the area, but that it could help preserve the buildings from unusually high tides and eroding wave action.

“Hey, I see that you found the place easy enough,” Uncle Smokey said as he began the handshakes. I hadn’t seen Luna wake up (even after Ginny’s dramatic finish), but she actually initiated a hug with the man before dancing off across the lawn. She obviously loved the place.

I gave the yard a quick once-over, more out of habit than in the belief that there might be some leftover Death Eaters about. Even during the actual war there were very few of them in California, and those had been hired as extras for the latest Star Wars movies. Somewhat satisfied, I followed the rest of the group inside to continue the tour.

The place really was somehow bigger on the inside than one might expect, and there was no magic involved. It had high ceilings, comfortable rather than simply ornate furnishings, an enormous kitchen with a matching refrigerator (which Ron hugged the way Luna had Uncle Smokey), and off the back there was a wide elevated deck with a huge barbeque at one end (that got a hug as well). Throw in the incredible view and fantastic weather, and it looked as if we had a nice three days ahead of us.

“Wicked!” Ron called out from where he was leaning over the rail. I assumed that he was talking about the ocean. I was half-right.

“Oh no you don’t Ron!” Hermione’s voice was as loud as his. She had seen the same thing he had. “You and Harry were almost killed the last time you attempted that!”

“Come on Hermione! What are the chances of that…?”

“No Ron! Absolutely not!”

We wandered over to join them then and saw what he was so giddy and she was so upset about. I should have known. He had spotted the surfers out there. I knew that this beach would obviously have them, but I hadn’t really thought about any of us attempting the sport again. The coastline in the United Kingdom was much like that in my home state of Oregon, rugged and beautiful, but with cold water and little surfing activity…if any. Yes, Ron at least was going out there.

“Uhm…perhaps we should go find Luna Hermione,” Ginny said pulling at her friend’s arm. We would have to have a long talk with her before Ron would be permitted near a board. “Harry, we need to go into town after we’re settled in. I’ll drive.”

That got Ron’s attention. He turned away from the rail to see his sister give him an evil smile as she pulled a reluctant Hermione out the front door. Harry and I both suspected Ron would be staying behind from that trip.

Uncle Smokey waited to see the door close before he spoke then. “Hey Ron, come on out back. I’ve picked you up a few surfboards almost as nice as those brooms Harry built.”

He led Ron off leaving Harry and I to continue studying the beach and tall breakers below. I didn’t need to ask him.

“Yeah Spense, I picked up wetsuit jackets for Ginny and me when we got those swim trunks. Are you going to give it a try?” We both started back into the living room while I thought about it. “It couldn’t be any worse than what we did on the brooms this morning.”

“I’ll see what Luna wants to do. I promised her some time building sandcastles. Whoa! Is that a Fender twelve-string guitar? I think that the Bureau is trying to butter us up for a better deal on those Thundercaps.”

“I think that Mr. Bear is spending more on us here than he’d be saving. That one string sounds a bit flat.”

“Because if everybody had a broomstick
Across the ol' UK
Then everybody'd be chasing
Like Ginny Weasle-ay.
You'd see them wearing their match robes
Elbow and kneepads too
Conjured windproof goggles...
Quidditch League UK.

They're playing Quidditch at Hogsmeade,
(Inside, outside, Quidditch games)
Carlisle and Birmingham,
(Inside, outside, Quidditch games)
London, Crewe and Stirling,
(Inside, outside, Quidditch games)
and down in Hartlepool.
(Inside, outside, Quidditch games)
All over the Midlands
(Inside, outside, Quidditch games)
And up in Glasgow too...
Everybody's play'n Quidditch
Quidditch League UK.

They'll all be planning out a ruse
Cannons and Harpies too.
They're waxing down their broomsticks.
They can't wait for June.
They'll all be gone for the summer.
They're on tour to stay.
Playing Loughborough and Camden,
Quidditch League UK...”


“I think that you and I are stuck with the luggage Spense.” Harry was laughing at the song parody, but I was fairly sure he liked it. He was right though. It was time to play pack mule.

Stepping outside again we immediately saw two things. The first was that all the luggage had been unloaded and stacked near the door. Did we have house-elves hiding somewhere? The second was a small group of tall, well-tanned teenagers surrounding the girls there in the yard.

“So sweetheart, what’s your name,” one dark-haired surfer asked.

“My name is Luna.” Of the three girls, she seemed to be the most relaxed at the moment.

“Luna? Well there’s a coincidence. I go by Moondoggy hereabouts.”

“Is everything all right here Ginny?” Harry asked. I didn’t miss the fact that he had checked for his wand in the back of his belt. I knew that the girls would have theirs handy as well–-not that we could easily use them on the Muggles.

“We’re fine Harry,” Hermione answered for them. “We are becoming acquainted with our neighbors. She had relaxed at seeing us but was still clearly worried about the strangers.

“That’s right pasty-white dude. We’re just becoming a bit better acquainted,” Moondoggy told Harry. He did have a point though. It is extremely difficult to obtain a nice tan in the Scottish Highlands. “You probably haven’t heard. This is our beach. We might not want any foreigners here. Well…the ladies are welcome anyway.”

“I’m an American,” I said then, “and I don’t have any problems with my family being here. Besides, the sign at the beachhead says Public Beach.”

Moondoggy turned to study the sign for a second or two, and then nudged his head in its direction. Without a word, a message went to the largest of the group. Big Bubba walked over to the sign, squatted, grabbed hold of the post, and pulled it from the ground. I was actually impressed, and even more so by how far he threw it. Harry and I exchanged a quick look and smile.

“So Luna, I guess that I’ll be seeing you around,” Moondoggy told her. I had my wand out, and knew that Harry did as well, albeit behind our backs. “If you want any surfing lessons, I’m the best on the beach.”

“No thank you. I’m sure that my friends are far better.”

He stared in disbelief at Luna as if she had insulted some prima opera diva. Harry used the momentary distraction for a quick flick of his wand. Finally, Moondoggy turned to Harry and me, presenting us with a crooked grin that would have done well for a Slytherin. He laughed, and then started off with his little posse back to the beach. He made it as far as the restored sign before pulling up. I couldn’t tell what he was saying at that distance, but he wasn’t happy, and that big guy was no doubt very confused. More so when he discovered that it was now magically anchored in place.

“Girls that really is an interesting small tree back there by the house, isn’t it?” They turned to look at it, clearly confused with the ordinary bush they saw. “Go ahead Spenser.

It was my turn to do some wand work. Unfortunately, Ginny, Hermione, and Luna saw me, and looked for a moment…but just a moment. Their eyes went back to the shrubbery. The surfers’ swim trunks had somehow all fallen down to their ankles. Funny thing–-their tans stopped at a certain point.


*****



Once we were unpacked, and said our goodbyes to Uncle Smokey, we planned out our afternoon, which would culminate with a nice steak barbeque. Harry, Ginny, and Luna were taking that quick trip into town for groceries and swimsuits for the girls. Ron actually surprised Hermione with one from the store where he, Harry and I had obtained ours. In fact, it was very nice. Both blushed red when Ginny commented on how well Ron knew just the right size for her.

I pulled the duty of distracting Hermione for a couple hours, so Ron could visit the beach surfing. I emphasized that he only had the short time I would give him since I wanted to check out the parasailing before Luna got back. This turned out to be far simpler than I expected with the arrival of another neighbor at our door. This one was much friendlier, more welcome, and very magical.

“Malachi Munchausen at your service,” he said as took and kissed Hermione’s hand in a comical yet cavalier manner. “Yes, I am Hawaiian, but someone slipped a German great grandfather in there. He was an absolutely wonderful gentleman, and the finest non-native fire juggler on Oahu. At least he was until an unfortunate sneezing fit that one evening. Smokey came by before he left. I understand Hermione that you have some small interest in ancient runes. I in fact taught the subject for a number of years at a small Wizarding school in Hilo. Have you ever delved into our Hawaiian texts?”

We probably wouldn’t see Hermione again until suppertime, and Mr. Munchausen was bringing the fruit salad back with them. The problem then would be to break the girl away from his small library, so she could relax with us.

After a quick lunch, Harry, Ginny, and Luna piled into the Woody and proceeded to amaze us when she had it up on two wheels for the first curve. Ron had to go wash the sand out of his mouth when he dropped down and began kissing the ground at the sight. I preferred the ham sandwich I whipped up.

Ten minutes later Harry wisely suggested their group park on the edge of town, and he took the precaution of checking for any traffic policemen. Ginny was a little miffed at that…or rather pretended to be for a little while. A five minute walk brought them onto the main thoroughfare, and Harry took the opportunity to describe it as a tourist trap. He caught himself, and quickly explained to Luna that it was in reality a Muggle slang term. They didn’t have to be on the lookout for snares, covered pits, and the like.

They spent the next ninety minutes browsing the shops, trying out the entertainment attractions, and Harry explaining all the Muggle things the girls might not have encountered before. Ginny purchased a nice two-piece suit that seemed to be very practical for when they went surfing. Luna picked out one that Harry admonished would curl my already curly hair. That convinced her, and she bought it on the spot. Fortunately, she also selected another one that she could wear in public.

A few more stops for kites, saltwater taffy, and a couple pails and shovels, and they were ready for some cold drinks and a place to rest their feet. Ignoring the Muggle bars, which they couldn’t enter without disguises and fake identification, the three opted to try out a youth club Ginny spotted called Gilligan’s.

Entering the place, they saw that it could easily pass for a full-fledged adult nightclub. It had a stage, a dance floor, tables and booths, and a very large rectangular bar. The man tending that was the only other person in the room, and Harry quietly asked the girls if they thought it was open yet.

“Yes, young man we are indeed open. I do have excellent hearing Miss. School hasn’t let out for the summer quite yet, the over-twenty-one set prefer martinis and white wine, and most of the rest of the people your age are still down on the beach. I’m a little surprised that you’re not.”

“We had to do some shopping,” Ginny explained.

“Hold on…aren’t you Bruce Willis?” Harry asked. “What are you doing in this story?”

“Spenser tried to get Frankie and Annette, but they got tired of this genre after Back to the Beach. He thought that you might appreciate having me here since I got to kill Alan Rickman in Die Hard.

“Actually, Professor Snape turns out to be… Uhm, have you read all the books in Harry’s biography? No? It’s probably better that we don’t spoil it for you then. My name is Ginny of course, and this is Luna.”

“A very great pleasure. Now what can I get you kids to drink?”

“A cold mug of butter beer would be fantastic,” Harry suggested.

“Sorry Harry, we don’t serve alcohol here.”

“You really haven’t read the books, have you? How about some Irn Bru?” Ginny countered. He clearly hadn’t heard of the Scottish soda either. “Anything cold then.”

“Three cherry colas coming up. You know we don’t get many English visitors around here. Are you in town for the Surf and Skid?

“What’s that?” Harry and Ginny asked together. They noticed that Luna had wandered over to study the jukebox by the dance floor.

“Well it’s a big surfing competition tomorrow along with a car show up on North Beach. Granny Beasley was bringing her super-sport Dodge in from Pasadena for the show, but some maniac in a Woody ran her off the road this morning.”

“Imagine that,” Harry whispered.

“Yeah, all bets are off now as to who will get best of show. You know the surfing contest is open to anyone if you want to try your hand at it. The music is two bits a song for that thing Miss,” he called over to Luna.

“That’s one of those larger silver coins with the man in the funny wig,” Ginny clarified.

Luna Luna, oh no
Me gotta go
Aye-yi-yi-yi, I said
Luna Luna, oh baby
Me gotta go

A fine little Witch waits for me
Catch a broom across the sea
Fly that Nimbus stick all alone
Never know if I make it home

Luna Luna, oh no
Me gotta go
Aye-yi-yi-yi, I said
Luna Luna, oh baby
Me gotta go now



*****



“Oh no Ron! What did you do? You went surfing! I forbade you to do that, and you did it anyway!”

“I don’t take to being forbidden to do anything Hermione,” Ron softly told her. His voice was cool and severe though, and when they locked eyes, she received the message that she had gone way too far with her words.

“It wasn’t his fault Hermione,” I told her. I had to take some of the arrows they both were ready to let off.

“Of course, it was your fault Spenser! You needed a disaster for your story, and you had to use my poor Ron.” Having shifted her anger to me, the girl knelt down next to him, and delivered an affection hug as an apology of sorts. Big mistake.

“Eeeeouch!”

“I told you that you needed a stronger sunscreen buddy. Like I said, it wasn’t his fault or mine. Do you want to hear what happened?”

Hermione sat down on the sofa next to Ron, careful this time to give him just a bit of space. “Go ahead. This should be interesting.”

“Okay, after you went over to Mr. Munchausen’s house, Ron and I decided to check out the beach.” We grabbed the boards Uncle Smokey left, and almost ran down to the ocean. “There was some really beautiful water and we saw a lot of nice people enjoying the sunny afternoon down there.” The surf was fantastic, and there were bikini-clad girls everywhere–-not that we paid attention to any of them. “We wandered around a bit and eventually decided to try our hand with a couple of the smaller waves. We headed out into killer surf like a couple of crazy Wizards, risked our fool necks, and had a fantastic time. Oops! I wasn’t supposed to say that last part out loud. Anyway, I’m not all that hot on a board, but Ron here rides one like Harry flies a broom. He was incredible!”

“Apparently not incredible enough judging from the leg cast.” Her voice was still accusing, but her face had softened more than a little.

“I keep telling you that it wasn’t him. Moondoggy and his friends showed up,” I continued. “You can probably picture the scene. It was the clich bragging, pushing and shoving, their trying to claim the beach, and Ron finally challenging them to a surf ride. You’ve seen the movies. Ron, Moondoggy, and some skinny rat-faced guy went out maybe two hundred yards and caught an extremely nice wave. Our boy here was doing even better than before. You would have been impressed Hermione.”

“I’m rarely impressed with attempted suicide Spenser.” She was smiling now though, and Ron joined her. “Tell me what they did.”

“Yeah…Doggy and Rat-Boy came up on Ron from both sides and swerved into him. As Ron went down, they pincer hit him with their surfboards and snapped his leg. The next thing we knew Tim Allen and the other lifeguards were pulling him ashore.”

“Wait? Who did you say? You were able to cast Tim Allen for this story?” Hermione didn’t seem to believe me.

“Of course, I did. David Hasselhoff wasn’t available, and Pamela Anderson recommended him. Tim Allen’s my hero. The man’s television character is the only person alive more dangerous than I am with power tools. Besides, he did that Galaxy Quest picture with Alan Rickman.”

“I’ve got to admit, the actor really does do justice to old Snape. Hermione, I’m fine. Spenser mended the bone as soon as we left the emergency room and got into the cab. I’m only wearing the cast until we leave. We’d never be able to explain it being gone to those bloody Muggles.”

“Crikey Ron! What did you do?” Harry asked as he, Ginny, and Luna came into the beach house.

“I hurt myself diving out of the way of some crazy girl in a Ford Woody mate.” Ron let that sink in for perhaps five seconds. “Nah, I had a run in with those stinking Americans you met yesterday Harry. Sorry Spenser; no offense.”

“None taken. I don’t get along with every Englishman I meet. Harry, you and Ginny need to pick out a couple of the boards and go get some practice before dinner.”

“Why did the way you said that suddenly make me very anxious?” Ginny asked. Neither she nor Harry was smiling.

“Well…I kind of…sort of…sorta, kinda…entered the two of you in the surfing competition tomorrow morning.”

“You what?” they all yelled, except for Luna naturally. She seemed thrilled with the new development.

“I had to Harry. Besides the need to get back at Moondoggy, the challenge is more or less a required plot device in surfing stories. That reminds me, I still haven’t booked a rock and roll band for tomorrow night’s compulsory bonfire. Hmm…I can’t ask the Beach Boys to do it, not after all these song parodies I’m using.”

“Spenser, you shouldn’t have done that. I’ve only surfed once, and Ginny never has,” Harry said in a desperate tone of voice. “I don’t care how many times you say it, surfing is not like flying a broom…not exactly. The ocean guides the board almost as much as the rider does. Most of the people we’d be competing against have been riding waves since they were in diapers.”

“Which means that you haven’t picked up as many bad habits,” I countered. “Now off with you. Dinner is in two hours.”

“Spenser would you like to see the yellow polka dot bikini I bought in town?” Luna asked with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“Harry, Ginny…make that two and a half hours.”


*****



In reality, the barbeque wasn’t until almost six o’clock. I pulled a Seamus Finnigan with the lighter fluid, and it was last seen flying out past the orbiting space shuttle. Luna’s feelings were hurt when the fire department declined our invitation to stay and enjoy some steaks off its replacement.

Harry and Ginny made use of the delay to get some more board time in, and, judging by their great moods, they must have discovered that it was more like broom riding than they first believed. Both were sore, but a half-hour in Mr. Munchausen’s heated Jacuzzi had them back in fighting shape. Regardless of that, we all decided that it had been a long day, we were still battling jetlag, and turning in early was an excellent idea.

If it was possible, the next morning was even more beautiful than one before. Such events were fairly commonplace on the California coast I explained. Harry and Ginny both had light breakfasts, even compared to the eight fried eggs, three stacks of pancakes, slab of pepper bacon, four ham steaks, half a loaf of sourdough bread, pitcher of pumpkin juice, three grapefruit, half-gallon of coffee, and two slices of strawberry pie that Ron inhaled. Poor Hermione–-when you fall in love with a Weasley you have to learn to be a production cook.

We started down to the ocean at a quarter past nine after we rigged Ron’s crutches with padded tips to function better in the sand. Harry and Ginny picked out what we all agreed were the best of the beach house’s surfboards. They exchanged a very long hug, and a whispered encouragement to each other before we set out. Hermione was still nervous about the contest, but the great mood the rest of us were in easily overwhelmed hers.

At the water, I was surprised to find only a couple dozen or so people preparing to compete, although the gathered crowd waiting to watch was huge. Ron suggested something about Moondoggy’s gang having intimidated possible participants. We had to agree with him. Those who weren’t there with him must not have been locals. True to form the surfer made straight for us the moment he saw our group.

“You can’t be serious! This is an American contest! Go back to…”

“Is there a problem Jefferey?” We hadn’t seen Mr. Munchausen walk up. He was wearing a nice Hawaiian shirt and a white hat with Official printed on it.

“No Kahuna. I was just explaining the rules to these people.”

“Rules which I wrote, and you always try to skirt. I suggest you attend to your boards and leave the welcomes to my staff and me Moonpuppy.”

“Don’t call me that Kahuna! What are those sticks they have strapped to their arms?”

“They’re shark prods. Mr. Munchausen suggested them,” Hermione quickly told him. We knew the gentleman, would understand and back us regarding the wands. “Would your last name happen to be Malfoy by any chance?”

For a full minute, he tried to stare Hermione down. Few people are capable of that. Finally, he gave in, presented her with a well-known yet very unfriendly hand gesture, and then stormed off to rejoin his cronies.

“Kahuna? Moonpuppy?” Ginny asked.

“Naturally. A Kahuna is a Hawaiian Wizard. As for young Jeffrey; his father Jeff Senior is the real Moondoggy, and his mother Francine went by Gidget. The Matthews are good people, and even after all these years, two of the finest surfers ever to grace our beach. Their boy is a spoiled brat, and he hasn’t earned a better name than the one they gave him. Be careful. He cheats.”

“I noticed,” Ron said, leaning on his crutches for effect.


*****



“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to our annual Surf and Skid competition,” Munchausen announced over the portable speaker system. “The rules today are very simple. Six riders at a time, drawn at random, will take to the waves. Judging points are awarded for technical skill, creativity, and use of bonus phrases. Oh…excuse me, wrong challenge. Each participant will have the option of taking a second ride to increase their standing, but regardless of outcome it will completely negate the first. If there are any questions, please feel free to approach any of the line referees. Good luck to all of you!”

“Harry, you and Ginny didn’t draw Jeffrey in this round, but you did get Rat-Boy and another one of their group.” I paused there and thought the situation over. “If I were them, I’d pull my Kamakazee run on the first ride, take down the competition, and try to win with my second attempt.”

“I’m very sure that the referees will keep it fair.” Luna’s voice and face told us she really wasn’t positive about that.

Even with binoculars, they couldn’t see everything at that distance. Ron’s accident had been masterfully staged. That told me they had pulled stunts like it before, and probably often. Our best luck so far had been in Harry and Ginny competing together in the same run. I wondered if Munchausen had somehow arranged that, so they could watch each other’s backs.

The two positioned themselves at the water’s edge. At the next promising wave, a starter’s pistol went off and so did the first six with their boards. At a hundred and eighty yards (according to the judge with the Muggle laser rangefinder) the group turned, stood, and began their return to shore. One dark-haired girl at the end went down almost instantly. From the other direction Rat-Boy was crouching low and guiding his board toward Ginny. It was extremely obvious what he was trying to do. Moonpuppy must have intended to sacrifice his friend to knock mine out of the race.

As he approached Ginny, she must have seen him, and took evasive action. Ginny stepped back and swung the nose of her board hard to the left, up into the wave, and passed behind the ugly American surfer before again straightening out. He was between them then and from the way his head bobbed back and forth he plainly didn’t like it. Deciding that Harry must have been the better target of the two, Rat-Boy deliberately shifted into Harry’s path, and the two went down. Fortunately, it was only twenty yards or so from the sand.

After ensuring that Harry was okay, Ginny performed a final series of maneuvers that had the crowd roaring with approval. Most of the crowd that is; Jeffrey was already being chewed out by a referee for what he obviously arranged. The other American was immediately disqualified, and Jeffrey couldn’t attempt anything similar, no matter how well he might try to mask it. We had a fair race.

Ginny opted to stay with her first ride’s score, as did about half of the surviving surfers. It was no surprise, and, in fact, an appropriate opportunity when Harry and Moonpuppy both drew the same run for round two. Even if he didn’t win the competition, if Harry could outperform the American then we would have some measure of revenge on Jeffrey. It was really too bad that Ron couldn’t do it himself.

The next pistol shot sent the half-dozen contestants toward a monster wave that looked like a tsunami’s younger sibling. One surfer panicked and turned back at the sight. He didn’t make it. Just as Harry came about, and stood up for his ride, two more contestants joined the first underwater. They surfaced a short time later, but Harry couldn’t have seen, and hopefully wasn’t worrying about them. The blond girl with Harry and Jeffrey was having a very hard time of it; survival was overruling style. Only those last two were making any points and making them they were.

Watching them, it reminded me of a rodeo with the cowboys standing up to ride the broncos. Back and forth, up and down, and then all around they went. The surfboards looked as if they were angry with them. The girl went down finally, and we saw that the board hit her in the head. The motorized rubber raft was just a short distance away fortunately, and we later learned she required stitches for a cracked head.

Perhaps fifty yards out the surfboard Harry rode finally seemed to win. The water rose and then dropped suddenly throwing him maybe ten feet into the air. Without apparently thinking, Harry grabbed his wand, and summoned the board back to him just as he had done countless times with his brooms. It was beautifully executed, but also inappropriate. Harry had used magic to complete his ride in a Muggle contest.

As he came ashore, we could tell that he realized what he had done. It didn’t matter that it had been inadvertent. Harry had cheated. Only Jeffrey had successfully ridden that wave in. After a long hug from Ginny, and assurances to us that he really was all right, Harry and she went to speak to Munchausen about the matter. Ten minutes later, citing some quickly contrived rule about illegal surfing wax, the Big Kahuna declared Moonpuppy the challenge winner.

For some strange reason, he didn’t appreciate the victory. As we slowly made our way back to the beach house, Jeffrey and his goons cut us off near the steps. We instantly had our shark prods out and pointed at their faces. The same teenager who had pulled out the sign the day before raised a fist and moved toward Harry. He was rewarded with the Bat Bogey Hex. The gang didn’t know how she did it, and we weren’t about to explain. They did decide to play it safe though.

“Yo…British surfer dude! That was some gnarly ride you took,” Jeffrey told Harry. There was a vicious tinge to his words, but surprisingly sincere admiration as well.

“Uhm…thanks, I think. It really was a witchin’ wave.”

“Wrong word Harry, but close enough,” I quietly told him.

“You let me win! Why?”

“You heard Mr. Munchausen. I cheated.” Harry knew that part was true; he just couldn’t clarify or elaborate more.

“Surfer wax? That is the most bogus story since Waldo the Reluctant Polar Bear,” Jeffrey yelled back.

“Spenser, I don’t care what he says. I very much enjoyed that story you wrote; especially when you gave the bear those huge tennis shoes.”

“Thank you, Luni.”

“I want a rematch!” The beach bum was turning red and, in his case, it wasn’t from sunburn.

“Sorry no. My surfboard racing days are over, and I doubt you play Quidditch.”

“Surfboard racing? Racing? Yeah dude! Okay are you up for a drag race then? Out at the old quarry south of town?” Jeffrey’s grin was Slytherin-worthy again.

“I don’t drive,” Harry began.

“I do! You have a race. Tomorrow morning–eight o’clock!”

“Ginny?” Harry and Ron shouted together.

“Done…and for pinks.” Jeffrey started laughing and motioned for his friends to follow him back to the water and their boards.

All of us gathered around Ginny then, and stared at her as if she had grown another head. Even Luna seemed to be incredulous to what she had done. The girl didn’t realize the enormous difference between her driving and racing a hotrod such as Moonpuppy must have had. Then there was simply the fact that we didn’t even have that kind of car. Only Munchausen’s approach kept Harry from blowing up at her. Hermione made up for it.

“Ginny of all the ridiculous, inane, and yes stupid things that you have ever attempted…!” None of us had ever heard Hermione angry with her before. Ginny just seemed amused by it. “What…what…what did he mean that you were racing for pinks?”

“Oh no; please tell me that you didn’t accept a racing dare from Jeffrey. Hermione, pinks means pink slips…the title to the car you’re driving. Do you even own that Woody?” Mr. Munchausen asked with almost as much frustration as Hermione exhibited. “That kid has the second fastest street rod in southern California after Granny Beasley over in Pasadena. For you to beat him… Hmm…for you to beat him would take a miracle worker. Oh, that would be perfect! All of you come with me quickly.”

Munchausen jogged off then toward his home, and, a second later, we were in hot pursuit. Ron took a moment to look for any prying eyes, dissolved his fake cast, and then ran to catch up. The older gentleman actually went past the house, but on the far side turned a corner, and stopped just short of a rickety old garage. A wave of his wand unbolted the magical locks, and caused the double doors to slowly open revealing...

“I don’t flippin’ believe it! You have a Ford Anglia!”

“Very good Ron. Most people don’t recognize the model. I’ve had this car for years now, and I’ve been meaning to do some work on it.”

“Our family used to own one,” Ginny explained. “What work were you thinking sir? This car doesn’t fly does it?”

“No, no…but when my friends and I are done with it you would think it did.”


*****



When she takes her to the track she always shines.
(Giddy up, giddy up Anglia)
She always turns in the fastest times.
(Giddy up, giddy up Anglia)
Ginny's four-speed, dual-quad, posi-traction Anglia!
(Anglia, Anglia, Anglia)

Giddy up, giddy up Anglia!
Giddy up, giddy up Anglia!

Nothing can catch her,
Nothing can touch her Anglia!
(Anglia, Anglia, Anglia)
Giddy up Anglia!



“Great Gadfrey! You’re Tom Selleck, and you’re Kevin Costner! These are Mr. Munchausen’s mechanic friends?” Harry asked. Once again, I had impressed him with my story casting. “Hold on! Spenser, I don’t know how you did it, but you hired two more actors who have killed Alan Rickman in their films!”

“Yep. Quigley Down Under and the one Robin Hood movie respectively. Mr. Munchausen’s back in the garage. The new engine and such are en route guys.”

That had been the scene at eleven o’clock that morning. The Kahuna had sent us off then with the promise of fast results…great ones in fact. It was nearly ten at night now, the bonfire was beginning to wane, and the band we found for the requisite beach party was finishing its last set. They were excellent musicians, and they worked for almost nothing more than the promise of no song parodies from me.

It was the perfect time of day. All of us were cuddled up around the fire, enjoying the serenade, and watching the sparks rise into the cloudless sky to join the trillion stars there. None of us wanted to dwell on the quickly approaching end to our mini-vacation, or the race with Moonpuppy the next morning. She probably should have been getting some sleep, but, for the moment, Ginny was content to be sitting there in the sand with her favorite Wizard.

In another couple days, we would be back at our homes in Hogsmeade, and the California adventure would be just another memory for me to turn into this story. It was all predictable and campy (albeit incredibly well-cast), but enjoyable just the same. It wasn’t home though. I had come to Hogwarts years before, met the girl and stayed. Scotland didn’t have a Disneyland, but neither did it have Los Angeles-class smog.

“Ah there you are. We’re finished, and I believe that you will be extremely pleased with the results.” Munchausen interrupted our special moment, but we were still on our feet in a heartbeat.

“You’re done so fast!” Hermione pointed out for all of us.

“With a wand and two brilliant mechanics (or at least actors portraying them) remarkable things are possible my dear. Now come see.”

The Kahuna led us back up the hill and to his garage where a number of Muggle floodlights had been set in place. Tom and Kevin were gone…and so was the Anglia we had seen that morning. In its place was a beautiful emerald green dragster that almost looked as if it could outrun a Firebolt. Fonzie and MacGyver working together couldn’t have done a better job.

“It’s magnificent Mr. Munchausen! I’m sorry though; what about our racing for car titles?” Harry asked. His face was a mixture of elation at seeing the car and sincere concern about the pink slips.

“That’s a simple matter Harry. I have the perfect solution.”

“What’s that sir?” Ginny’s face matched Harry’s but there was also a glimmer of hope there.

“Don’t lose.”


*****



It's that pretty young Witch from the Quidditch team!

The pretty young Witch from the Quidditch team,
(Go Ginny, go Ginny, go Ginny, go)
Thinks a broom's just right, or so it would seem.
(Go Ginny, go Ginny, go Ginny, go)
'Cause parked in the forest near school grounds
Her antique, super-charged Anglia is found.

And everybody's sayin' there's no one as mean
As the pretty young Witch from the Quidditch team.
She flies like a Seeker, but she drives like a Witch.
She's a terror on and off Hogwarts' Quidditch pitch!

It's the pretty young Witch from the Quidditch team!
If you want to race her...if you think you must,
(Go Ginny, go Ginny, go Ginny, go)
She'll give you a length, but then you'll eat her dust.
(Go Ginny, go Ginny, go Ginny, go)
She's gonna get detention with Madame Hooch soon,
'Cause she drives that car like she flies her broom!

(Go Ginny, go Ginny, go Ginny, go)
(Go Ginny, go Ginny, go Ginny, go)
The Wizards come to court her from miles around,
But she'll Bogey Bat 'em, then she'll turn 'em down.

Go Ginny, go Ginny, go Ginny go!



“Is that really your car dudette?”

“What exactly is a dudette Jeffrey?” Ginny countered. The American was trying to play the smug hot shot, and the car there behind him was backing him up, but he had never met the redhead Witch. “How do we play Yank?”

“Spenser…?”

“It’s okay to call him that Luna. He probably roots for that New York team.” I had my Seattle Mariners cap on and tickets in my pocket for their game with the California Angels that afternoon.

“It’s simple enough. You and your passenger race my car down to the old flatbed wreck–-three miles from here exactly. First one back then wins. Since you seem to be tight with the Kahuna, you won’t have any trouble with him dropping the flags. Any questions?”

“I’ve got one,” I said. “How many miles do you have on that Dodge there?”

“Maybe six hundred on this engine. Why?”

“Oh, nothing really. We’re just trying to figure out how much we can get for it at Honest Ernie’s Used Hot Rods.” He didn’t like that.

Despite being an old quarry, the place was in remarkably good shape. The pavement had been well maintained, and we all had to wonder if it was to allow activities like the race to occur there on a regular basis. We slowly drove over the course twice so Harry and Ginny could study it, and then Ron and Hermione did a walk around the car to ensure the wheels were still there. Luna was given the simple task of keeping me away from all the tools we had brought with us.

Finally, we lined the cars up, and Jeffrey began the ritual of spinning his tires and flashing Harry and Ginny evil smiles. It didn’t faze the two at all. The Americans donned their helmets, and only then did we realize that we had forgotten about that accessory. Professor McGonagall really hadn’t covered conjuring auto racing protection, so we had to settle for some headgear from a couple suits of armor. They looked silly, but no more so than some of the stuff we came up with.

Munchausen moved to a spot ahead of and between the dragsters, and then raised the green flag he carried.

“Ready Ginny… Set…” Only then did Harry remove the hand he had on Ginny’s there at the gear shift. The flag came down. “Engage!” Harry yelled, but the roar of the engine drowned it all out, and the earplugs wouldn’t have allowed hearing him regardless.

Jeffrey, the more experienced driver, immediately took the lead, but only for a moment. He was racing well-practiced veteran Quidditch players–-two of the finest in the U.K. Ginny nursed the low gears and feathered the acceleration instead of flooring the pedal. After three or four seconds, they pulled even with Jeffrey, and Harry took the opportunity to wave.

The track began a slight rightward bend, and the inertia allowed Jeffrey to drift in toward the Anglia. Harry motioned toward the Dodge, but Ginny merely nodded without looking. Her Chaser instincts told her where the other car was, and she refused to allow it to affect their course. Jeffrey knew better then to collide with Ginny at that speed…they hoped. So did his copilot who was waving his hands and frantically pointing at the Anglia. As they straightened out again the cars moved apart. Everyone breathed again.

Whether intentionally or not, Ginny hadn’t reduced her speed on the curve, and it allowed her to pull forward slightly. The old flatbed was coming into sight, and Harry gave Ginny the thumbs up. She smiled inside her helmet. Before the race they had quickly discussed what to do on the turn, and it was a toss-up as to whether it was it was Ron or Hermione who was the more surprised or angry. They both said it was impossible…suicidal.

Ginny had now pulled a length ahead of Moonpuppy, and a quick jerk of the wheel brought them in front of the other car just as they came to flatbed. Instead of slowing for the sharp one-eighty turn back, Jeffrey saw the Anglia accelerate. He also saw someone climbing out the passenger side window, plant their feet on the car’s body, and lean out while holding onto some sort of strap.

At more than a hundred miles an hour Ginny jerked the speedster hard left with Harry trying to act like a counterweight. It barely helped, if at all. The Anglia felt as if it was going to roll, but Ginny still didn’t ease up on either the tight steering or the accelerator. Neither she nor Harry breathed for the four seconds it took to come around, but once they had he was back inside like a shot and rebuckled. He later confirmed that the car had indeed been on two wheels.

As I said, what Harry did had little effect on their car, but it did rattle Moonpuppy considerably when he saw it. His shocked hesitation allowed the Anglia to extend their lead to five lengths, and Jeffrey was inventing new words to curse Ginny and Harry. He was also reaching for the lever that would activate the nitrous oxide. As they went past that same curve again, onto the final mile of straightaway Jeffrey pulled back hard on the control. The sudden burst of speed threw both Americans back into their seats.

Harry, Ginny, and all of us had been expecting it. It wasn’t the first time Moonpuppy had resorted to the speed enhancement during a race. Everyone agreed that, in such an event, magic wasn’t just required; it was completely fair for leveling the playing field once again. Ginny recited her spell, and the Anglia was thrust forward, and then alongside the Dodge. Mr. Munchausen had installed a magical broom drive into the car. The only problem both teams now faced was the short distance between the finish line, the old excavation pits, and the hundred-foot drop that came with them.

The cars were neck and neck. Ginny didn’t bother looking at the speedometer, but she was beginning to wonder if they could safely Apparate away going that fast. Probably not she decided. Oh well! Ginny pointed to the drag chute release, but Harry’s hand was already there. She pressed the gas pedal to the floor.

Ron, Hermione, Luna, and I watched from a safe distance as the cars came back into sight. Their speed was mind-boggling. Neither car had been constructed for that, and the Dodge was beginning to shimmy. He had to slow down or risk flipping. Instead, when Ginny again pulled forward, he tried to go faster still. It wasn’t enough. The Anglia was half a car ahead when it passed the checkered flag and won.

Harry instantly deployed their chute. The Dodge didn’t for maybe another second and a half. Jeffrey wasn’t going to make it. They weren’t slowing enough. Somehow Ron and I knew this could happen to one or both cars, and we were prepared. We applied a Crape Retractum Spell, which stopped Jeffrey’s car mere feet from the pit, but pulled Ron and me to the ground as we tugged at it.

We were instantly back up and moving toward the Anglia almost as fast as the car had arrived. Ron tossed away the crutches and ignored the leg cast as he limped on to catch up with us. Harry and Ginny were out and shared their own hug before allowing us ours. It was a fantastic end to both a great vacation and my story…well almost.

Moonpuppy was stomping toward us as if he were some deranged Death Eater want-to-be. I could almost imagine what he would have been like with a functioning wand. Harry stepped forward, but Ginny held his arm indicating that she wanted to be the one to face him. None of us failed to notice that all his surfing buddies had suddenly abandoned their fallen hero. He was alone.

“There is no way that I’m going to give you my car you stinking bunch of…”

“Wingardium Leviosa!” Ginny softly said. Jeffrey was suddenly floating in the air, lashing about for whatever was holding him up. There was the expected fear on his face, but still the determined stubbornness that had gotten him into trouble to begin with.

“It’s bunch of Witches and Wizards mate,” Ron told him. We all had our wands out then. “Can I turn him into a frog or something Harry?”

“No Ron. Mr. Munchausen has something else in mind. Let him down please Ginny.”

As his feet touched the ground again Jeffrey took off at a run, but only for maybe ten yards before running into the Kahuna and…”

“Junior!”

“Mom, Dad…what are you doing here?” he asked in a weak, breaking voice.

“Is that really James Darren and Sandra Dee, Spense?” Harry asked. After what I had done so far, he was actually expecting it.

“No Harry, that’s the real Gidget and Moondoggy. It looks like the Puppy is going to get his nose whacked with a rolled-up newspaper finally.”


*****



“I just don’t understand it Ginny. You learned to drive well enough in a day to be able to win that race, but you’re still having trouble using a Muggle pay telephone.”

“Oh, just hush Harry!” she admonished him. She was laughing too. “Well everyone, we did manage to get the blasted thing to work and contacted Mr. Bear. The Magic Bureau gave final approval to our contract. Harry and I can begin work on the remaining brooms as soon as we arrive back home. What’s wrong Spenser? Are you still upset about your baseball team losing?”

“Grumble, grumble, grumble… Stupid designated hitter!”

“When do we leave then?” Hermione asked.

“In the morning. That would be the best with the time difference,” Harry told her.

He set the two pitchers of cherry cola down at the table and gave the youth club another appraising look. It had a completely different atmosphere in the evening when they had a good size crowd to share it with them. Bruce wasn’t tending bar at the moment, but for what he cost me, I was lucky to get him in the one scene. The band was good, the dance floor was full, and the burgers we just finished had been excellent. Except for the triple-play disaster in the ninth inning, the day had been perfect.

“Would you like to dance Ginny?” Harry asked. Her face and extended hand were all the answer he needed.

Round round get around
I get around
Yeah
Get around round round I get around
I get around
I'm gettin' bugged flying up and down this same old pitch.
I gotta finda new broom and a pretty young Witch.
My buddies and me are getting real well known.
Yeah, the Death Eaters know us, and they leave us alone.

Get around round round I get around
Get around round round I get around


We all watched as they moved back and forth out there, and the sight really did make up for the Mariners’ loss in my book. I knew that Ron was angry about the leg cast. He wanted to dance with Hermione. I held off for the moment doing that with Luna out of sympathy for him. I looked over and saw that she understood and agreed.

“I guess you have your surfer story Spenser,” Hermione commented. She was trying to take Ron’s mind off the music with the question.

“I think so. Let me think… We have a Ford Woody, a beach, surfing, the indispensable bully and his gang, a luau, a bonfire, lots of great music, drag racing. By the way, the Kahuna gave Jeffrey’s car back to his parents. They’re using it as leverage to get him to go back to school. Hmm…I think that’s everything the Frankie and Annette movies have always had. Yeah we’re about done now.”

“Not quite,” a new unfamiliar voice corrected.

“Leaping lima beans! Professor Snape! No wait…you’re dead!” Ron almost screamed.

“Ron no! That’s not your Severus Snape!” I did yell.

“However, you are evidently still fixated with my death young man.”

“I do seem to be, don’t I? Ron, Luna…Hermione, this is Alan Rickman the actor. I take it his resemblance to the man matches the other actors’ likenesses to all of you. I’m also guessing that you’re concerned with the guest cast for this story.”

“All gentlemen who have violently killed me in their films.”

“No…Tim Allen didn’t,” I accurately pointed out.

“You clearly didn’t read the reviews for Galaxy Quest. Mr. Hemmingway, I would greatly appreciate it if the next time you would pay homage to my contemporaries instead of to me–-at least the ones that have read your stories. Donald Duck immediately comes to mind. Good evening.”

He turned then and walked off, disappearing into the crowd. No one spoke, and I felt as if I should sink down under the table to hide. Luna wouldn’t let me. She pulled her wand, and with a quick wave under the table again banished Ron’s plaster cast.

“It’s dark enough in here that no one should recognize you without it,” she said. “Spenser, I would very much like to dance with you now.” The four of us moved out onto the dance floor to join Harry and Ginny for the big musical ending.

Little surfer little one
Made my heart come all undone.
Do you love me, do you surfer girl?
Surfer girl my little surfer girl.

I have watched you on the shore
Standing by the ocean's roar.
Do you love me do you surfer girl?
Surfer girl surfer girl

We could ride the surf together
While our love would grow.
In my Woody I would take you everywhere I go.
So I say from me to you
I will make your dreams come true.
Do you love me do you surfer girl?
Surfer girl my little surfer girl.

Girl surfer girl my little surfer girl.

Girl surfer girl my little surfer girl.


It wasn’t my first choice, but everyone seemed to think it was the perfect song to end our adventure. Harry and Ginny especially did if that kiss was any indication. I knew better than to touch the lyrics.

Mischief managed!
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