|
Butterflies and Black Eyes | ||||||
|
Category: Post-OotP Characters:None Genres: Humor, Romance Warnings: None Story is Complete Rating: PG Reviews: 19 Summary: Mrs. Weasley refuses to let Hermione's black eye wait until they go to Diagon Alley. This small change results in a butterfly effect that changes Harry and Ginny's relationship in a way that neither anticipate. Canon through chapter 5 of HBP. Hitcount: Story Total: 4495; Chapter Total: 717 |
Previous Next |
|
||||
|
Caught red-handed, Harry resorted to deflection. “I knew you were spying on me; I saw you in the window,” he said accusingly. Ginny’s face briefly flushed darker before rapidly lightening to a pale white. This was not her calming down; this was her wrath intensifying to a white-hot flame. Harry braced himself for Mrs. Weasleyesque explosion, but what happened was much worse. Ginny closed her eyes and clenched her fists. “Get. Out.” she said in a low tone scarcely louder than a whisper that vibrated with ferocious intensity. Harry scurried past her and descended the stairs. Ginny’s door slammed behind him, the echo resounding several times through the house. It sounded as if a bomb had been dropped on the Burrow. Harry entered to the kitchen to find five sets of wide eyes looking back at him. Mr. Weasley nervously turned to his wife, clearly hoping she would address the situation. “Is something wrong, Harry?” Mrs. Weasley asked with motherly concern, her gaze flitting to the stairway. Harry didn’t know what to say. He picked something that was technically true. “Ginny and I, uh, had an argument.” “About what?” Ron asked. Hermione remained silent, but Harry could see the barely contained curiosity struggling to burst forth. Fleur examined her reflection in the back of a spoon, nonplussed by the situation. Harry slowly pulled out his chair, sat, and inched toward the table, stalling to give himself time to think. “I thought she had taken something from me, so I went into her room to get it,” Harry said. “I was wrong, and I shouldn’t have gone in there.” “I went in her room once,” Ron said with the shell-shocked face of a man experiencing a flashback to the trenches. “My nose bled for a week.” “She is very particular about her space, dear,” Mrs. Weasley said in an understanding tone. “I’m sure she’ll calm down.” Ginny did not calm down. She stayed in her room for the rest of the night and all the next day, only coming out for meals. Whenever Harry tried to speak to her, she completely ignored him as though he wasn’t there. Harry also wasn’t on speaking terms with Hermione. After dinner, Harry had confronted her in the scullery when she brought down her laundry. “Did you know Ginny was spying on me?” Harry demanded. “Yes,” Hermione said, her cheeks faintly pink. “Was that what your fight was actually about?” “Were you spying on me?” Hermione slammed the clothes hamper down. “Fleur is up to something,” she whispered. “I am trying to look out for my friend.” “Friends don’t spy on each other with omnioculars,” Harry whispered back, leaning in to emphasize the point. “The omnioculars were Ginny’s idea. She nicked them from Ron’s room when you went on your ‘walk’ with Fleur,” Hermione countered, using finger quotes. “You need to lay off of Fleur,” Harry snapped. “Jealousy isn’t a good look on you.” “I am not jealous,” Hermione insisted, her face growing even more flushed. Before she could continue, Ron cleared his throat behind them. Harry and Hermione guiltily sprang away from one another. “What are you two whispering about?” Ron said suspiciously, studying Hermione’s flushed face. “Nothing,” Harry said. “I’m going to bed.” The two fights meant that two-a-side Quidditch was definitely off for the next day. Instead, Harry assumed the role of Chaser, and Ron practiced his Keeper role. Ron saved the majority of Harry’s attempts, which meant that, unlike Harry, Ron was in a cheery mood for the rest of the day. The day after brought gloom and drizzle to match Harry’s mood. He was still irritated at Hermione and Ginny for spying on him, but that emotion was rapidly disappearing. Hermione’s friendship with him was strong enough for him to let this go. Whenever he tried to be angry at Ginny, that slow-motion scene of her standing up from the pond played in his mind, and his emotions took a turn into something else entirely. His frustration with her was rapidly replaced with irritation toward Dean. “To be fair, you did snoop in her room before you even knew she was watching you,” Harry told himself as his mind found more and more reasons to forgive her. Unfortunately, Ginny’s ire toward him had not disappeared as quickly as Harry’s fury at her. He was still receiving the silent treatment. Harry was almost desparate enough to ask Hermione for help when, as he was browsing the depressing news in the Daily Prophet, a way out suddenly occurred to him. He had to wait for Bill and Fleur to arrive at the Burrow that evening before he could finalize everything, but when that happened, Harry was confident he had the solution. It was after ten o’clock, but the light from under Ginny’s door told Harry she was still awake. Harry knocked. “Who is it,” Ginny called sceptically. “It’s me,” Harry answered. “Harry.” There was no response. “Ginny, please open the door.” Silence. “This isn’t about what happened. This is about Fred and George. I know how to get back at them.” Ginny still didn’t say anything, but Harry heard the creaking of a bed followed by approaching footsteps. Ginny opened the door a crack. Bright brown eyes stared at Harry, and he was reminded of his first visit to the Burrow. Ginny distrustfully studied his face for a few seconds, sighed, and opened the door. “Come in,” she muttered. “This better be good.” Harry watched her nightgown clad form stride lithely across the room and enter her bed. Harry walked in and stood awkwardly. “I’m sorr-“ Harry began. Ginny raised her hand. “You said this wasn’t about that. We both did something we shouldn’t have. Let’s leave it in the past.” “Great,” Harry said with a great sense of relief. “I have a plan.” “What is it?” “We are going to pose as reporters for the Daily Prophet and interview George and Fred about their store.” Ginny scrunched her face as if Harry had just suggested the most idiotic idea in the world. “Harry, they know us.” “Not if we’re disguised with Polyjuice potion.” “Where are we going to get that?” “From Bill. He has a friend at Gringotts that was using it to test some security counter-measures.” Ginny sat up excitedly. “Hold up. You’ve worked out a full plan already!” Harry nodded. “I’ll start from the beginning. I managed to convince your mother to let you and I go to Diagon Alley tomorrow. I felt a little guilty because I promised Dumbledore I’d stay here, but I figured this was okay because I’ll be going there anyway to get school supplies, and we’ll be with Bill and Fleur.” At the mention of Fleur, Ginny’s face took on the appearance of someone who had just discovered a dozen Dungbombs in her bed. “I know you’re not her biggest fan,” Harry said quickly, “but she’s willing to help, and she actually came up with your excuse.” “Excuse?” “Our story to everyone else is that I’m going with Bill to get some money out of my vault. Because security is so tight, it’s been taking five hours for the public to get their gold. We told your mom that Bill can help me skip the queue.” “And me?” “You’re going bridemaid dress shopping with Fleur.” Ginny looked horrified. “Not really,” Harry said quickly. “It’s just the excuse. Fleur actually came up with a pretty good one.” “Figures you’d think it was great,” Ginny muttered. Harry ignored her remark. “Anyway, once we get there, we’ll take Polyjuice to look like a couple of Bill’s other mates who work for the Daily Prophet. Bill Floo’d Fred and George tonight. He told them he overheard a few reporters talking about the new joke shop, so he offered them a tour for the newspaper.” An evil grin appeared on Ginny’s face as she immediately caught on. The next day saw Ginny and Harry walking down the lane away from the Burrow with Fleur and Bill as Hermione and Ron watched enviously from the window. They paused at the edge of the property just before the security perimeter. “They would be even more disappointed about what they’re missing if they knew what we were really up to,” Ginny giggled. “Whatever you do, don’t let Mum find out about this,” Bill said in a low tone. “She’d kill me. The only reason I’m allowing this is because you’ll be polyjuiced the whole time.” Bill slipped each of them a vial. They turned their backs to the Burrow and quickly imbibed the substance. It was a much more pleasant experience than before. Bill’s friend had a light, refreshing taste somewhat like cucumber. Immediately, his insides started writhing, a burning sensation spread from his stomach to the ends of his fingers, and then a horrible melting feeling went throughout his body. Unlike last time, Harry was able to remain standing as the transition occurred. This was likely due to the fact that the man Harry was doubling was about his same size and build. The transformation stopped as soon as it had started. “That was unpleasant,” Ginny remarked. She was now an older, brunette witch who bore a Hermione-like visage of intense concentration. “Impressive,” Harry remarked. “If that had been my first time, I probably would have fallen over.” “Yes, well, you’re a bloke, aren’t you?” Ginny said with a wry smile. Fleur snickered. “What does that have to do with anything?” Harry asked, confused. “I’m used to my insides feeling like they’re falling out,” Ginny said nonchalantly. Harry still had no idea what she was talking about, but he decided to let the matter drop. “Take my arm,” Bill told Harry. Fleur indicated Ginny should do likewise, which she begrudgingly did. Harry again revisited the feeling of horrible compression before Diagon Alley appeared before him. Ginny let out a squeal of joy. “So that’s apparating,” she said with a smile. “Everyone at Hogwarts wonders what it’s like.” “Why is side-along apparition so uncommon?” Harry asked Bill. “It’s dangerous,” Bill replied matter-of-factly. “It’s really easy to splinch your companion. There are usually easier, safer, and more comfortable methods of transportation. “Oh,” Harry replied. “Then why did we just do it now?” “Because we need to be fast,” Bill said, scanning the area for threats. “And because I knew Fleur and I are both skilled enough to do it safely.” Diagon Alley had changed. The colorful, glittering window displays of spellbooks, potion ingredients, and cauldrons were lost to view, hidden behind the large Ministry of Magic posters that had been pasted over them. Most of these somber purple posters carried blown-up versions of the security advice on the Ministry pamphlets that had been sent out over the summer, but others bore moving black-and-white photographs of Death Eaters known to be on the loose. Bellatrix Lestrange was sneering from the front of the nearest apothecary. “The shop is just around the corner.” Bill said, checking his watch. “It opens at nine; you have almost an hour. I have to go to work, but Fleur will stay and watch. Good luck you two.” “How is Harry supposed to get back?” Ginny asked. “Fleur will take both of you,” Bill said. “Fleur is going to side-along apparate two people?” Ginny asked incredulously. “You doubt my abilities?” Fleur asked with an offended tone. “I just hear it’s difficult,” Ginny said hesitantly. “Ginny,” Bill said impatiently. “She was the Triwizard champion for Beauxbatons. She’s quite capable.” Bill gave Fleur a quick kiss goodbye. Ginny rolled her eyes as he trotted away toward Gringotts. The three of them walked in the direction that Bill had indicated. Harry’s eyes widened in shock when he saw the shop. Set against the dull, poster-muffled shop fronts around them, Fred and George’s windows hit the eye like a firework display. Casual passersby were looking back over their shoulders at the windows, and a few rather stunned-looking people had actually come to a halt, transfixed. The left-hand window was dazzlingly full of an assortment of goods that revolved, popped, flashed, bounced, and shrieked; Harry’s eyes began to water just looking at it. They walked inside. Harry stared around, looking up at the boxes piled to the ceiling: Here were the Skiving Snackboxes that the twins had perfected during their last, unfinished year at Hogwarts. There were bins full of trick wands and boxes of quills, which came in Self-Inking, Spell-Checking, and Smart-Answer varieties. Fred, wearing a set of magenta robes that clashed magnificently with his flaming hair, was bent over a gigantic purple poster that looked similar to those of the Ministry for Magic. “Hello, are you Fred or George Weasley?” Ginny asked in a businesslike manner. “I’m Fred,” he responded, hurrying over to shake Ginny’s hand. “You must be Margaret Truss.” “And I’m David Johnson,” Harry added, leaning in to shake Fred’s hand. “We’re with the Daily Prophet.” A door in the back of the shop slammed as George skidded through it. He quickly approached them, and they repeated their introductions. “I suppose I should get straight to the point,” Ginny said, pulling out an oversized notepad. “This seems to be a rather frivolous shop. Is this the right time to open such a place? People are going to be reading this article right after hearing about disappearances and other horrible things.” George seemed prepared for the question. “This is exactly the right time to open this shop. A good friend once told me we could all do with a few laughs in the middle of tragedy. It helps keep us sane.” “Hmm,” Ginny said dismissively as she scrawled furiously on her notepad. “I suppose that’s one perspective, although I doubt many of our readers will agree. What do you have for sale?” “We should save the best for last,” Fred said, steering them away from the Skiving Snackboxes. “This is our wand selection.” “I already have a wand,” Ginny said. “Me too,” Harry added. “No, no,” Fred said. “They’re trick wands, see?” He picked one up and waved it until it turned into a rubber chicken. “Why would I want a chicken?” Ginny asked, putting on a confused air. George closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “They’re not for you,” he patiently explained. “You switch out your friend’s wand with it in class, and then when they go to cast a spell -“ He grabbed another wand and waved it until it changed into a pair of briefs. George turned to them for approval. “I guess that one’s handy if I ran out of clean pants,” Harry said, nodding. “But I wouldn’t change my pants in the middle of class.” “And why would I want my friend to have the pair of pants if I need them?” Ginny added obtusely. Fred rubbed his eyes. “It’s a joke, see? It’s embarrassing for your friend.” “I don’t want to embarrass my friends,” Ginny said. “If I kept doing that, they wouldn’t be my friends.” Ginny reached forward and picked up another wand. A look of horror flashed onto across George’s face. “No!” he cried, reaching out to snag the wand. Ginny waved it and it began beating her around the head. “OWWWWW!” she wailed. “MAKE IT STOP!” Fred managed to snag the wand and stop it. He quickly tossed it back into the box as Ginny collapsed to the floor. Harry rushed forward and knelt next to her. “Are you alright?” Ginny winked at him, and Harry realized it was merely a convincing act. He stood up and pointed accusatorily at Fred and George. “Those should come with a warning label, what is wrong with you?” Harry said in an offended tone. “We are so sorry,” Fred said, trying to help Ginny to her feet. “We will certainly make sure customers know what those do.” Ginny allowed her hand to slip out of Fred’s and fell back to the floor. Harry looked up to see George agitatedly tugging at his hair. Harry turned around and bit his lip furiously to keep from laughing. After he regained his composure, he followed Ginny to a large display near the counter. Ginny read aloud the information on the back of a box bearing a highly colored picture of a handsome youth and a swooning girl who were standing on the deck of a pirate ship. “One simple incantation and you will enter a top-quality, highly realistic, thirty-minute daydream, easy to fit into the average school lesson and virtually undetectable (side effects include vacant expression and minor drooling). Not for sale to under-sixteens.’” Ginny looked up with a disapproving glare. “This is simply obscene. Are you really targeting children with this?” Fred hastily shook his head. “No, no, we only sell those to customers who are of-age.” “How can you tell who’s of-age?” Harry asked. “Do you have verification procedures?” Fred’s mouth opened and shut like a fish. Harry turned toward the back of the shop where he saw a stand of card and rope tricks. “Are these Muggle magic tricks?” Harry asked. Fred nodded, a nauseous expression on his face. “These aren’t used for Muggle-baiting are they?” Ginny demanded. “I know your father has been crusading against that sort of thing for years.” “They’re for Muggle enthusiasts,” George said smoothly. “But Muggles can’t do magic,” Harry pointed out. “You’re really just selling Muggle objects; there’s no magic to them.” “Do you have a Muggle importation license to sell these?” Ginny demanded. “I-I thought we didn’t need those for these types of products,” Fred said weakly. “Hmm,” Ginny said dismissively, wandering near the window to an array of violently pink products. “Love potions? Do they work?” “Yes,” said Fred, “for up to twenty-four hours at a time depending on the weight of the boy in question and the attractiveness of the girl.” “Should you be playing with people’s lives like that?” Harry asked. “They all contain behavioral repressants,” Fred explained, a feverish look in his eyes. “They keep people who have been dosed from, let’s say ‘going too far.’” “Oh, so they mess with minds even more than normal love potions,” Ginny frowned and turned. “What are those?” She was pointing at a number of round balls of fluff in shades of pink and purple, all rolling around the bottom of a cage and emitting high-pitched squeaks. “Pygmy Puffs,” said George. “Miniature puffskeins, we can’t breed them fast enough.” “Excuse me,” Fleur said. She had been standing in the back of the shop silently watching the interview until now. “Does that violate the Ban on Experimental Breeding?” George scoffed. “That law isn’t enforced.” “I see,” Fleur said. “I wonder what your fazzer will zink about zat.” George’s eyes widened. Before he could respond, Ginny let out a large sigh, shook her head, and wrote something in his notepad. Fred tried peering at it, but Ginny quickly turned it away from him, giving him a judgmental look. Fred turned away and tensely cracked his knuckles. Ginny and Harry continued to roundly abuse Fred and George for several more minutes. Harry hadn’t had this much fun in ages. They were perfectly in sync as they toyed with the twins. “This must be what professional dancers feel like,” Harry mused as they expertly played off one another’s remarks. Ginny acted her role so well that Harry feared he would crack a rib from holding his laughter in. For his part, Ginny had to hide her face with her notepad a few times to regain her composure. Harry even saw the tiniest hint of a smirk on Fleur’s face a time or two. Eventually, it was time to bring the charade to a close. Ginny sighed loudly. “All right, I think we’ve seen enough. Ha - David, are you finished?” Harry nodded, placing an unsatisfied look on his borrowed face. “Wait,” Fred said desperately, trying to salvage something out of the disastrous situation. “You haven’t seen our Skiving Snackboxes!” Harry and Ginny exchanged a look. “Okay,” Ginny said. “Make it quick.” Fred and George promptly ushered them to the boxes piled to the ceiling and described how they were used by students who wanted to avoid classes. Harry put an admonishing frown on his face during the explanation. Ginny reached up, grabbed a Nosebleed Nougat, and unwrapped it. In a smooth motion, she replaced the Nosebleed Nougat in her hand with a harmless caramel nougat from home. She chewed and swallowed. “How long should this take?” she asked the twins after a few seconds had passed. “Any moment,” Fred answered. They waited for the nougat to take effect. Harry started tapping his foot on the floor impatiently. “I’m afraid you might be selling some defective products,” Ginny said curtly. Harry reached up and took a Puking Pastille. He performed the same sleight-of-hand as Ginny, replacing it with a lemon Bertie Botts Every Flavor Bean. They again waited for about a minute with no effect. Fred and George were both ashen faced. “This one seems to be defective as well,” Harry said, clicking his tongue reproachfully. “Do any of your products work as advertised?” George shakingly conjured a wooden chair and collapsed into it, holding his head in his hands. Fred reached up and grabbed a Puking Pastille. He crammed the orange section into his mouth and set the purple portion next to him. Moments later, he began projectile vomiting all over the shop. He reached up to grab the purple chew, but it had disappeared. Harry caught Fleur returning her wand to her sleeve out of the corner of his eye. “Thank you for your time,” Ginny said as they backed away from the twins. George remained despondent in the chair, not even acknowledging their departure. Fred frantically tried to unwrap a new Puking Pastille between heaves. Fleur handed each of them a new vial. They downed it and the effects of the Polyjuice Potion immediately left their system. “Are you ready to go?” Harry asked her. Fleur grabbed both of their arms and nodded. “One more thing,” Ginny said, her voice back to normal. Fred had managed to get a new package open and swallow the correct end. He sat in a puddle of his own sick, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. George continued to stare at the floor. Ginny smiled viciously. “If you prats ever try to prank me or Harry again, next time will be even worse.” Fred and George looked up, realization appearing on the faces as they saw Ginny and Harry’s true forms. Ginny cackled and Harry roared with laughter as Fleur pulled them into the constricting arms of Apparition. |
| Reviews 19 |
Previous Next
|
