Not Quite Marty Stu

by Anpwhotep

They thought he was a muggle when they met him, but learned he's actually a wizard who was never taught how to use his magic. The results are amusing, confusing, and more trouble with the law.

1. Chapter 1

Harry gaped in shock at the fat, middle-aged muggle who was currently beating a Death Eater to within an inch of his life with an ordinary cane. Somehow, he had managed to shrug off no less than three cruciatus curses and go on the attack while Harry had taken down the other Death Eaters.

"All I wanted was a quiet day in the country," the muggle complained as he shattered the Death Eater's mask and the bones beneath it. "Was that too much to ask for? It's not bad enough England's overrun by MUNDANE thugs, it's got to be overrun by spellslinging thugs, too?"

The muggle spun his cane and planted the tip in the Death Eater's chest with a sickening crunch, then brought it back and finished the job by swinging it in an arc that caught his target in the temple. The Death Eater flew over a meter before landing in a boneless heap.

"Cor, mate!" Ron exclaimed. "That was brilliant!"

The muggle spun to face them, his cane held as if he expected to have to use it again. "Are you cops? Well, don't expect me to go down as easy as Mark Barnsley."

"Mark who?" Harry asked as he walked toward the muggle. "I just want to know how you did it."

"Did what?" The muggle asked. He glared at Harry the way Moody did when he was fresh in from the field. He glanced at the dead Death Eater. "That? I just kept hitting him until he stopped moving."

"How did you fight him, though?" Harry asked. "How did you stay on your feet and keep fighting?"

"Huh?" The muggle stared at Harry as if he'd grown a second head. "What do you mean? He attacked me, so I fought back. I'd do it back home, and you can be damned sure I'll do it here in England, too. I don't care if self-defense IS against the law."

"Against the law?" Ron blurted, shocked.

"Never mind that," Harry said. "I want to know how you kept fighting after three cruciatus curses."

"Cruciatus curses?" the muggle asked. "Oh! Is that what those were supposed to be? Huh. All they did was piss me off."

"But HOW?" Harry demanded. "Anyone else would have been writhing on the ground after just one. You were hit by THREE!"

"Five, actually, but who's counting?" the muggle sighed as he leaned on his cane and limped toward a daypack laying on the ground near Long Meg. "I take it you're NOT cops, then?"

"No," Harry said. "We're quidditch players."

"Well then," the muggle said as he rummaged through the pack, pulled out a bottle of water and a pill bottle, then washed down two pills, "I hope you don't mind if we briskly walk away before the cops arrive."

The crack of aurors arriving caused the muggle to drop his water and drop back into a crouch with his cane held defensively. Harry ran to put himself between the aurors and the muggle.

"Tonks!" Harry yelled in relief as he saw who was leading the arriving team. "What took you so long?"

"What took me so long?" Tonks asked with a laugh. "Harry, it's been less than two minutes since we got the alert. So how many casualties are there?" She looked around, the laughter fading quickly as she scanned for victims.

"Six Death Munchers," Harry said, "and one muggle who took five crucios."

"FIVE?" Tonks squeaked. "Poor sod. Guess we'd better alert St. Mungo's, then."

"St. Mungo's," the muggle laughed. "Sounds like the name of a hospital. I doubt they'll be much use, but why not?"

"Who's your friend, Harry?" Tonks asked seriously.

"He's the muggle I'm talking about," Harry said. He turned to the muggle. "My name's Harry Potter, by the way."

"Fred MacManus," the muggle said as he leaned on his cane again. "I take it my nice quiet day in the country is shot for good, huh?"

"Sorry about that, mate," Ron said as he stuck out his hand. "Ron Weasley. You have GOT to teach me those moves?"

"Teach?" Fred laughed as he shook Ron's hand. "What's to teach? I just reacted. If he hadn't pissed me off like that..."

"Yeah, that's their specialty," Ron said. "Usually it's Harry who's doing the arse-kicking, though."

"Tonks," one of the other aurors called from where he was examining Fred's Death Eater. "This one looks like he was bludgeoned to death."

"His grasp of the obvious is astounding," Fred muttered. Ron and Harry looked at each other and broke into laughter.

"Harry?" Tonks asked quietly. "You sure this bloke took five crucios?"

"Positive," Harry said. Ron nodded in agreement. "We saw it happen. All they did was make him angry."

"Cor...," Tonks breathed, staring at Fred in amazement.

"I don't see what's so amazing," Fred said with a blush and a shrug. "Do people in England have a low pain threshold or something?"

"Low...pain...threshold..." Tonks choked. "Mr. MacManus, would you consent to come with us to St. Mungo's? If our healers could get a clue as to how you were able to shake off that particular curse, it could help more people than you can imagine."

"Well, as long as it doesn't involve your famous British 'justice', I might as well," Fred sighed. "This trip's ruined, anyway."

"He sounds like you, talking about Dumbledore," Ron said with a grin as he elbowed Harry.

Tonks scowled and pulled a yo-yo out of her robes. "If you'd take hold of this, Mr. MacManus, we can be on our way."

"I'd have thought a medical teleport tag would be something a bit less...playful," Fred chuckled as he reached for the toy. "Is Patch Adams one of you?"

"Patch Adams?" Ron asked as Fred vanished.

"Hell if I know, mate," Harry replied with a shrug. "Meet you there."

"Harry!" Tonks called, just as he was about to disapparate. "Do you think we can trust him?"

"Honestly?" Harry asked. "I have no idea. But somehow, I think we can trust him more than we can trust Scrimgeour."

"Harry!" Tonks exclaimed in mock-horror. "That's the Minister you're talking about!"

"And your point is?" Harry grinned and made the jump to St. Mungo's.

"You know, this is REALLY getting tiring!" Fred snarled when Harry had cast a rennervate on him. "As if your magical thugs aren't bad enough, now I'm getting attacked by HOSPITAL STAFF?"

"I'll have a chat with Tonks about that," Harry said. "She should have warned them you were coming."

"That's no excuse," Fred fumed. "Do I LOOK like one of those masked bozos? Or does your hospital service have the same itchy trigger fingers as your cops? I swear, Burgess wasn't HALF as cutting as he should have been."

"Whoa, mate," Harry said. "I don't know who this Burgess is, but what does that have to do with St. Mungo's?"

"I took your friend's teleport tag," Fred growled, "and the next thing I know, that blonde bint over there hits me with some spell that knocks me out!"

Harry looked at the welcome witch, who shrugged and said, "We can't just have muggles popping in without warning. There are sick people here."

"Auror Tonks sent him," Harry said quietly. "Didn't you bother to check the signature on the portkey?"

"Uh, no," the welcome witch said with a blush. "But he's a muggle!"

"A muggle who stood up to five crucios," Harry said. "We're going up to the fourth floor."

Harry turned to Fred and said quietly, "Let's go, before I do something I'll regret." He led the way to the stairs and started up. A moment later, Fred followed, still grumbling under his breath.

"You've only had to put up with them for a half hour," Harry said as they passed the magical diseases floor. "I've had to put up with them since I was 11 years old."

"And you haven't told them all to sod off and die?" Fred asked, in the first tone of wonder Harry had heard from him. "You must have the patience of a saint."

"Far from it," Harry laughed. "I just have good friends to make up for the idiots."

"Friends, not fans?" Fred asked. "I saw the way people were watching you down there."

"Don't remind me," Harry groaned. "Ever since I killed Voldemort, it's been like that. Until Ron and Hermione came up with a way to improve security, I was on the verge of being sacked by the Cannons. Can't blame them, really. When you can't even count on your locker room being safe from rabid fans, you can hardly be expected to play your best."

"Otaku," Fred snorted. "Figures. And all because you killed some guy with a penchant for bad French?"

"Bad French?" Harry asked, then laughed. "Yeah, that would fit Tom."

"So his real name was Tom, huh?" Fred snickered. "Rule #250 from the Evil Overlord List."

"Arthur would love you, you know," Harry laughed as he reached for the door to the spell damage floor. "He's just wild for all things muggle."

"I gather you all use 'muggle' the way I use 'mundane', eh?" Fred asked as he stepped through, only to run into the fourth floor's most infamous resident.

"Of course I'll give you my autograph," Gilderoy Lockhart said as he handed Fred a photograph. "Only one to a visitor, though. Can't deny others their chance, after all."

"Gilderoy, you naughty boy!" a middle-aged witch in green robes bustled up and took Mr. Lockhart by the arm. "You know you have to save your pictures for the IMPORTANT guests, or you'll run out!"

"Oh, you are so right," Lockhart said as the witch led him away. "Wouldn't want to disappoint the Ministers, would we?"

"A little lacking?" Fred murmured as he watched them head down the hallway.

"Memory charm backfired," Harry said. "He erased everything but his ego."

"Memory charm, huh?" Fred asked quietly, then turned to glare at Harry. "If I even THINK someone is planning to use one of those on me, I'll do to him - or her - the same thing I did to that bozo in the mask. I will not have my mind raped."

Harry took a step back in shock. He'd never seen that kind of reaction from anyone before. "Hey, the Ministry says they're legal."

"What does LEGAL have to do with it?" Fred growled. "Rape is immoral, whether it's physical or mental. And that's exactly what you're talking about - raping someone's mind."

Fred's watch beeped before Harry could come up with an answer - not that he could; the vehemence of the assertion had thrown him completely off balance - and Fred grumbled. "Damn."

"Damn?" Harry asked as Fred swung his bag off his shoulder and set it on one of the hallway tables. "Wait a minute! How is it your watch works in here?"

"Huh?" Fred grunted distractedly as he pulled out a small nylon pouch, opened it up, took out an electronic device and stuck a strip of plastic in it, then stared at it for a moment with an annoyed growl. Suddenly, the device beeped and he nodded. "About time." Within a few moments, he had pricked his finger with a spring-loaded pen and applied blood to the tip of the plastic strip.

"Damn! Figures." Fred grumbled and rooted through his bag again, then pulled out a roll of Life Savers and popped several in his mouth. "Oh, good. I was afraid I'd lost these, and glucose tablets taste AWFUL. Want some?"

"Glucose tablets?" Harry asked, while staring at the strange device that had, amazingly WORKED inside St. Mungo's. He reached out automatically to accept a candy.

"Yeah. My blood sugar was down to 70," Fred said. "Bad plan for me. I get really irritable when it drops below 100." He noticed Harry staring at his device and laughed. "You've never seen a glucometer before?"

"I've never seen an electronic device work inside St. Mungo's before," Harry said. "How did you do it?"

"Huh. I wouldn't think that energy band would affect a self-contained device," Fred muttered, then shrugged. "Hell if I know. It didn't want to start up at first, but after I gave it a good glare, it took right off."

"And your watch?"

"Battery's most likely been dead for 10 years. I never saw a reason to change it as long as it kept working." Fred snorted. "Could be worse. I know a doctor who has to use a wireless keyboard and large screen on her computer, because if she gets within 6 feet of the cpu, it self-destructs."

"Is she a witch?" Harry asked.

"Nah," Fred said. "She has fibro, just like me."

"Fibro? What's that?" Harry asked as he noticed Tonks and Ron coming in from the stairway.

"Fibromyalgia. It's a neurological disorder," Fred said with a shrug. "Imagine your brain permanently stuck on hypersensitive, so that what other people feel as mere sensation, you feel as pain."

"You mean...?" Harry asked as a horrible implication came to mind.

"Yeah," Fred laughed harshly. "There's your great dark secret. Those curses you all are so afraid of don't hurt any worse than what I normally feel when I run out of pain meds. In fact, on a scale of 1 to 10, with 1 being a mother's kiss and 10 being the worst pain I've ever felt personally, those curses didn't rank more than an 8, and my normal pain WITH pain meds is about a 6."

"Merlin!" Tonks breathed in awe.

"I don't see what the big deal is," Fred shrugged. "It's not like I'm the only one who has it, and I know people who have it worse. At least I'm able to get out and do things now and then. I have a friend who has it so bad she can't leave her bed without help."

"Mr. Potter," an older witch said as she approached the group, "would you mind explaining why you've brought a muggle up here?"

"The muggle," Fred growled as he turned to glare at the witch, "has a name. The muggle is tired of being spoken of as if he were nothing more than a trained monkey."

Harry reached out to catch Tonks as she started forward, and shook his head while giving her a smile. This promised to be good, and he didn't want anyone to interfere.

"I don't care what your name is," the witch said. "This hospital is for witches and wizards only."

"Odd," Fred drawled, "I'd been under the impression it was for those who were suffering from magical injuries and maladies. Are you going to say that a muggle cannot suffer from those? Such as, say, the oh-so-terrible cruciatus curse?"

"You don't have any idea what you're talking about!" the witch declared. "You should not speak so lightly about things you don't understand."

"What's to understand?" Fred shrugged. "It hurts. Pissed me off. I killed one of the guys who did it to me."

"You...killed...," the witch trailed off and stared at Fred, then looked at Tonks. "Auror Tonks?"

"Beat him to death with his cane," Tonks said. "After taking five crucios, according to Harry and Ron."

"Impossible!" the witch insisted. "No wizard could withstand that much pain and remain sane, let alone a muggle!"

"Possible or not," Harry said, "it happened. We need to understand how."

"What's to understand?" Fred asked with a shrug. "It's not like I haven't hurt that much before. If I hadn't seen the bastard cast the spell, I would have just figured I'd overdone it and taken something to get myself back to my room. Speaking of which, I assume we're not in Cumbria any more, so would someone mind picking up my stuff? It's at Langstanes, in Langwathby. And while you're at it, my car is still parked by Long Meg. Do any of you drive? I'll need it returned if I'm ever going to rent another car."

"I drive," Ron said. Tonks snickered, and Harry groaned. "Hey! That time back in second year doesn't count!"

"I'll grant you that," Harry laughed. "You have gotten better since then. Just remember, it's a muggle car, not like your dad's."

Fred rolled his eyes, dug in his waist pack and pulled out a key on an inn's key fob and a rental car key. Ron took the keys and headed for the stairs.

"So what's the joke?" Fred asked. "His dad's car fly or something? That'd really be a pain. No proper flight controls and it'd have to be tuned to one driver for mental control. Anyone else would probably drive it into a tree."

Harry stared at Fred. "How did you know?"

"It just made sense." Fred shrugged, then snapped his attention to the elderly witch as she cast a diagnostic spell. "As I told him, if I even THINK you're casting any kind of memory spell on me, I WILL kill you. That's not a threat. That's a guarantee. I will not have my mind raped."

"Well, you can relax," the witch snapped back. "This is just a simple diagnostic spell." She stared at Fred and shook her head. "And it makes no sense. If you would come with me to my office, I have more detailed diagnostics I'd like to try."

"All right," Fred said with a shrug. "Lead the way. So tell me, does the witch have a name?"

The witch gave Fred a narrow glare, then laughed. "I suppose I deserved that. My name is Heloise Chadwick. And yours is?"

"Fred MacManus," Fred answered with a smile, as he fell in behind Ms. Chadwick. "So how much of what you got can be explained by arthritis, diabetes, fibromyalgia, or Aspergers syndrome?"

"I have no idea," Ms. Chadwick said as she opened her office door and walked in. "Mostly because I don't know what any of those are. My specialty has always been spell-caused injuries. Care to enlighten me?"

"Well," Fred said as he took the chair in front of her desk, "arthritis is when the cartilage in your joints gets worn beyond the ability of your body to repair it. Diabetes is when your body cannot process the sugar in your food, so it builds up in your blood stream until it becomes poisonous. Fibromyalgia is where your brain is stuck permanently on 'hypersensitive', so that everything becomes a source of physical pain. And Asperger's is kind of like fibromyalgia, except the pain is emotional, rather than physical. There's a lot more to the last two, but those explanations are a good starting point, and if you understand them, you can usually deduce the problems that stem from them."

"Given your descriptions," Ms. Chadwick said, "I'd have to say I can explain most of what I got. But it doesn't explain the high levels of opium and adrenaline in your system, or some of the stranger anomalies."

"Well," Fred said, "I can't explain the anomalies, but I'd say the adrenaline is from the fight, and I should come crashing down any time now, and the opium is probably how your magic registers the oxycodone I take for pain relief. And before you ask, oxycodone is a synthetic opiate, not a real opium extract like morphine, so I couldn't give you even a hint as to how they make it. All I know is that it's more effective than morphine, and without it I wouldn't have been able to make this trip in the first place."

"Is that what you took after the fight?" Harry asked.

"Yeah," Fred said. "I have two different pain meds. Oxycontin, which is a sustained release version of oxycodone, and generic oxycodone, which hits as fast as any other ordinary pill. I use the one to maintain my pain level at about a 6 on my ten-scale, and I use the other if I get some acute pain that the first can't control."

"And muggles came up with it?" Ms. Chadwick asked. "Amazing!"

"Not really," Fred grumbled. "We don't have magic to make our lives easier, so we have to use our brains."

"Hold it," Harry said suddenly. "Before you two get into it, you're both right. Yes, it's amazing muggles came up with such an effective pain reliever. It's amazing ANYONE has something that effective. But you should expect it of muggles, Ms. Chadwick, since they don't have magic to heal their ailments as easily as we can. Mr. Pye, down in the Llewellyn Ward, can probably tell you quite a bit about muggle healing methods."

"I've heard about them," Ms. Chadwick sniffed. "Imagine! Stitches! As if the human body were a sewing project!"

"Stitches can be pretty damned useful," Fred said, holding out his left hand. "See the index finger? My father sawed it off when I was 2. The hospital sewed what we left of it back on. Thanks to stitches, I have a finger."

"I...see," Ms. Chadwick said, visibly shaken.

"Eh," Fred shrugged. "The bastard got what was coming to him in the end. Even if it wasn't nearly slow or painful enough."

"Uh...," Harry asked slowly, not sure if he wanted to know, but unable to restrain his curiosity, "what happened?"

"He died," Fred said brightly. "Pulmonary fibrosis."

"Huh?" Harry asked.

"Lung fibers," Ms. Chadwick said. "Or fibrous lungs. I don't quite follow."

"Imagine," Fred said, "all the tissues in your lungs turn into scar tissue. When it finally got bad enough for him to admit he was sick and check into a hospital, he lasted about a week, even while breathing pure oxygen. In effect, he died of suffocation." He shrugged. "Like I said, not nearly slow or painful enough."

Harry nodded slowly. He'd felt the same way about Vernon enough times to have some idea of what Fred meant, but he'd never been able to speak it aloud.

"What kind of monster...?" Ms. Chadwick asked softly.

"The kind of monster who didn't even have the excuse of drink for his enjoyment of beating his only son, or attempting to molest his daughters," Fred said. "Now, what strange anomalies did you find with your spell, and what do you propose to do to find explanations for them?"

"So why are you all sitting here?" Hermione asked as she approached Harry, Tonks, and Ron where they were sitting outside Ms. Chadwick's office.

"Wotcher, Hermione!" Tonks said with a grin. "Harry's got a new friend, and we're waiting for the healer to get done with him."

"Him, huh?" Hermione replied with a smile as she drew up a chair next to Ron. "I guess Ginny doesn't have to worry, then."

Harry rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to answer, just as the door opened and Fred came out.

"You sure I can't hire you as my doctor?" Fred asked with a laugh. "You've found out more in four hours than my doctor back home has in four years. Then again, you've actually LOOKED, which is more than I can say for him."

"I'm sorry we can't do more for you, Mr. MacManus," Ms. Chadwick said, "but I'm afraid we would have had to start 30 years ago for it to have done any good."

"Well, shit happens, you know?" Fred said with a shrug. "You're sure these potions won't interact badly with the meds I'm already taking?"

"I may not be a potions master," Ms. Chadwick said with a smile, "but I do know enough to check for those kinds of interactions. Usually it's magical interactions I'm worried about, but I believe in this case, they'll still be safe."

"Can't hurt," Fred said. "And don't forget what I said about your patients. If they're in that much pain, you can't beat fentanyl. It's the most potent painkiller we have. Even stronger than the stuff I take. Only problem is you can only get it in an injection or a patch. But if they can't swallow, that's not such a problem, is it?"

"No," Ms. Chadwick said. "No, it isn't. Thank you very much, Mr. MacManus. I hope your next visit is under much better circumstances."

"Hold on a sec," Fred said and pulled a pen and a device about the size of a large pocket calculator out of his waist pack. Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but Harry grinned and waved her to silence as Fred flipped the cover back off its face and tapped it with his pen, which appeared to have a solid plastic tip at this point. "Ok, give me a minute here."

"It'll never--" Hermione started.

"Trust me, Hermione," Harry said, "you'll want to watch this."

Fred pulled the base of the device, and it slid back to reveal a tiny keyboard below the area he had been tapping on. After pressing a couple keys, he slid the base closed again and tapped on the screen with his pen. Suddenly, it lit up, and he quickly tapped a pattern on it, paused, then tapped it again.

"All right," he asked as he tapped on the screen, then slide open the keyboard, "now what were those instructions again?"

"Take the purple potion with each meal," Ms. Chadwick said, pausing when she saw Fred alternating between tapping on his keyboard and scribing on the screen, then continuing when he raised his eyes to her. "The green potion with breakfast, and the black potion before bed. With the purple potion, you may have to keep a closer watch on your blood sugar, so be sure to keep some candies on hand, just in case. And show me your log next week when you come back, so I can see what adjustments we need to make."

"Got it," Fred said, looking up. "How about the red potion?"

"That's for emergencies," Ms. Chadwick said, then smiled. "But DO try to not get into any more fights with Death Eaters, won't you? I'm sure the aurors would be greatly relieved."

Fred laughed and nodded as he closed his device and tucked it away in his waist pack. "I'll try to remember that. I suppose that means my trip to Castle Forbes is right out, eh?"

"I don't see why it should be," Ms. Chadwick said, "but why would you be interested in going there?"

"Well, you see," Fred said, "my great-grandmother was Zelpha Allen, of Clan Forbes. I was hoping to find more complete records than I got from my mother by going through whatever might be there."

"Did you say Zelpha Allen?" Ms. Chadwick asked, a look of surprise on her face. "Zelpha Allen, who moved to America and married Ernest Zemke?"

"You knew her?" Fred asked, looking just as surprised.

"Knew her?" Ms. Chadwick exclaimed. "I went to school with her! Oh my, this means I'm going to have to completely reconsider the results of my examination."

"Will it change your instructions?" Fred asked with a sigh.

"Oh, no, nothing like that," Ms. Chadwick said. "It just means that your results make a lot more sense now, and I have a much larger selection of references to work with, knowing you come from a wizard family."

"So the old stories of there being seers and werewolves in the family weren't so crazy after all?" Fred asked.

"Not werewolves," Ms. Chadwick laughed. "Animagi. Zelpha was a seer, though. She never did have much luck with transfiguration. I'll show you some pictures of us when we were in school when you come back next week. How's that sound?"

"Sounds great," Fred said with a smile. "I really do appreciate it." He turned and noticed the crowd on chairs outside the office and laughed. "For me? You shouldn't have. So did you have any trouble getting my stuff?"

"None at all, mate," Ron said, pulling a shrunken canvas bag out of his pocket. "Got it all right here. So, do you have a room in London?"

"I have one reserved for next week," Fred said. "My plans had been to leave Cumbria tomorrow and drive up to Aberdeen. I have a room at Castle Forbes for the next week, and had planned to spend most of that time researching, with a couple trips out to see if I could get lucky enough to find and make friends with Nessie and to pick up some Lochanorra."

"Oh, aye," Ms. Chadwick laughed. "He's an Allen, all right. Zelpha had the same fool notion. Never did manage it, though. Well, you young people go take care of what you need to, then. I have some calls to make." She bustled back into her office and closed the door.

"Since you don't have a room for tonight," Hermione said, "why don't you stay with Ron and I?"

"All right...," Fred said slowly, giving Ron a questioning look. Ron smiled and shrugged, as if to say, "don't look at me, mate."

"I'm Hermione Weasley," Hermione said, extending a hand. "I'd really like to know how you managed to make your PDA work, here in St. Mungo's."

"Fred MacManus," Fred said, taking her hand with a bemused expression. "I'm afraid I don't understand. You and Harry both seemed surprised. Him by my watch and glucometer, and you by my Zaurus. Is there some kind of suppressing field in here that prevents electronics from working?"

"Something like that," Hermione said. "Magic and electronics don't get along. Even simple devices like telephones don't do well in areas with a lot of magical activity."

"Hell if I know," Fred said, then grinned as he noticed the look of relief on Ron's face. "Tell me something, Hermione. Are you a Mad?"

"Am I a what?" Hermione asked, as she stood to join the others in walking toward the stairs.

"A Mad," Fred said with a laugh. "Not sure what you'd call them in the wizard world, but they're the people who spend their days in the laboratory and their nights poring over books and journals, searching for just the right bit of information to make their latest theory fall into place. They're the ones who believe that - excuse me, I have to get the pose and intonation just right here - " He stopped and threw out his chest, stuck out his chin, and intoned in a voice that sounded to Harry like it was intended to be as hokey as possible, "SCIENCE can Save the World!"

Harry looked at Ron, who was turning almost as purple as Tonks' hair in his attempts to not laugh, and lost any hope he had of holding in his own laughter. The two of them leaned on each other until the fit of laughter had passed, only to see Hermione's annoyed expression and break into fresh laughter.

"Huh," Fred said with a shrug. "I didn't think it was THAT funny. Hell, I'd be a Mad, too, if I weren't too sick - and too poor - to work on any of my ideas. Instead, all I can do is write about them and hope someone else has the resources to pick up where I pointed."

"Fred," Tonks said with a grin, as Hermione grew progressively redder, "you are talking about the woman who, when she was 12 years old, using nothing more than a book from the school library as a guide, created a potion that most potions masters find difficult to make. And she did it in an abandoned loo - not even a real lab. I'd say she fits your definition quite nicely."

"Thanks." Fred grinned. "At least I know what I'm letting myself in for. So is there a good place to eat around here? We had tea in Ms. Chadwick's office, but I really do need to eat something before my blood sugar gets low enough for me to get cranky."

"Would a snack keep you up to snuff?" Tonks asked. "There's a tearoom just upstairs. It's hospital food, so I don't recommend it, but if you're desperate..."

"I'm not THAT desperate," Fred laughed. "Not yet, at least. I'm in the mood for something solid, but that's just because I haven't really eaten since this morning. That was good, though. Bangers and mash. Reminds me of my own 'heart attack on a plate' recipe. Sticks with you for hours."

"Well," Tonks said, "if you thought that made a good breakfast, there's a pub not far from here that'll do for dinner."

"Lead on, then," Fred said. "Just don't send me first, wherever it is. I have no desire to get knocked out at the next stop like I got knocked out here."

"Uh, yeah," Tonks said, blushing. "Sorry about that. I didn't realize she'd be so ready to stun you like that."

"Well, now you know," Fred said. "And now I know to not take one of those teleport tags without knowing if I'll get a friendly reception first."

"It's a portkey, actually," Hermione said. "Unlike a teleport tag, it's the spell on the key itself that moves you, rather than a remote teleportation device."

"Yeah. So is that how we're getting to this pub?"

"Nope," Tonks said with a grin. "We're going by floo."

"Are you sure about that?" Hermione asked.

"You heard her," Tonks said. "He's a wizard. Shouldn't be a problem."

"Famous last words," Fred muttered. Harry and Ron, just returning to the party, heard Fred's mutter and began snickering again. "And you two aren't helping matters any. All right, Tonks, what do I need to do?"

Tonks led the way up to the tearoom and across to its fireplace. She opened a tin on the mantle and took out a handful of silvery powder.

"Now, what you do is throw a handful of this into the fire, then step in and state your destination. Remember to keep your elbows in until you arrive, and step out of the fireplace at the other end right away, so you don't block it for someone else."

"Right...," Fred drawled. "This, I HAVE to see. So what's the destination?"

"The Leaky Cauldron," Tonks said, then demonstrated her meaning by using the floo.

"Green flames, huh?" Fred commented. "And obviously they don't burn..." He shrugged, threw a handful of powder into the fire and stepped in. "The Leaky Cauldron."

"Why don't you go ahead, Harry?" Hermione suggested. "I'd like to ask Ron a few questions before we catch up to you."

Harry took the hint and quickly went for the floo, landing almost on top of Fred on the other side.

"Oy, Harry!" Tonks laughed. "That's two of you can't stand up on a floo trip."

"That's it," Fred grumbled as he used his cane to lever himself up off the floor. "Next time, I take the Underground."

Tonks laughed as she led Fred and Harry to a table and waved over a barmaid. "Wotcher, Agnes! Butterbeer for everyone and a menu for the grumpy old fart."

"I got your grumpy old fart right here," Fred grumbled, bringing more laughter from Tonks. "Is she always like this?"

"Usually," Harry said with a chuckle. "Get her around Remus, though, and she really cuts loose."

"Oh gods," Fred groaned, as Tonks stuck her tongue out at Harry. "I don't think I want to know."

"Careful you don't make that offer when Ginny's around," Harry said with a grin. "Speaking of which, I'll be back in a few. Try not to scare poor Fred off completely, ok?"

"I have no idea what you mean!" Tonks protested, with a poor attempt at an innocent expression.

"Uh-huh. Sure." Harry shook his head as he walked out the back door.

Once in Diagon Alley, Harry headed for number 93 and ducked to the left immediately inside the door. When nothing happened, he started for the back of the store, dodging the usual mobs of excited children and embarrassed adults.

"Harry!" Fred called out with a grin while George was ringing up a sale. "What brings you to our humble shop?"

"Just want to use your floo," Harry said. "I don't want Ginny worrying about why I'm not home."

"Out with some tart, are you?" Fred asked with a grin. "I wouldn't want to have to get my shovel, now."

"Your...shovel?" Harry asked, wondering what insanity was bouncing around Fred's brain this time.

"My shovel," Fred said gravely. "The one I'll use to beat you to death if you cheat on my little sister."

"OK," Harry said. "Who are you, and what did you do with my brother-in-law? That threat was way too unimaginative to be real."

"Told you no good would come of watching that muggle box," George said absently.

"That muggle...you got that off the telly?" Harry asked, disbelieving.

"Hey!" Fred protested. "It worked for Xander!"

"Xander?" Harry asked as he dredged his memory for any hint of the reference. "Who's Xander?"

"Xander Harris," George answered, looking up from the till to roll his eyes behind Fred's back. "The muggle who attracts demons the way you attract Death Munchers, on Buffy, the Vampire Slayer."

"Buffy? The Vampire Slayer?" Harry asked in disbelief. "Do I...no, I really don't think I do want to know. Look, I'm on my way to fetch Ginny, so TRY to keep things to your usual level of insanity?

"Insane? Us?" Fred asked innocently, then looked at George. "I do believe, dear brother, that he called us insane."

"Seems rather like an insult to the insane, innit?" George answered.

"That it does," Fred agreed. "We'll have to work harder."

Harry shook his head with a smile and slipped past the twins into the back room, where their fireplace was. A quick floo home, and he was picking himself up off the living room floor and dusting himself off.

"Ginny! Are you home yet?"

"Master Harry Potter sir!" Dobby popped into the room and hugged Harry's leg excitedly. "Mistress Weezy asked Dobby to tell Master Harry that he should not wait dinner for her because she is working on a new project she just got today."

"Did she say what the project was, Dobby?" Harry asked, wondering what could have been so important - or interesting - that it kept Ginny at work when even Hermione had joined Ron at the hospital.

"MIstress Weezy says that Master Harry Potter will be proud of her!" Dobby exclaimed.

"I already am proud of her," Harry murmured, then spoke to Dobby. "Dobby, would you find Ginny and tell her that I'm at the Leaky Cauldron with Ron and Hermione and Tonks and a new friend she hasn't met yet?"

"Dobby will find Mistress Weezy and tell her for Master Harry Potter!" Dobby declared, just before he vanished with a sharp crack.

Harry smiled as he flooed back to the Leaky Cauldron, even after picking himself up off the floor and returning to the table where Ron and Hermione had already joined Tonks and Fred.

"...so for all I know, there could have been a letter," Fred was saying, "but the sperm donor was such a control freak that when he came back from Vietnam, he took a job as an aide in the hospital the egg donor was a patient in, just so he could monitor what she did in the hospital. The idea of him letting any of us kids attend any kind of boarding school that wasn't a military school would have been unthinkable."

"You sure he wasn't a Dursley, mate?" Ron asked. "That sounds like the kind of hell Harry had to put up with."

"I thought your name was Potter, not Dursley," Fred said between bites of shepherd pie.

"Dursley was my aunt's husband," Harry said quietly. "I lived with them until I was of age, except when I was at Hogwarts or the Burrow. My parents were killed by Voldemort when I was a little over a year old."

"And your parents loved you," Fred said quietly. "Hold tight to that truth. The concept is one I'm still trying to learn how to understand."

"Which one?" Harry asked. "Truth? Or Love?"

"Love," Fred said. "I've never had a problem with truth. Except maybe being too ready to stick to the truth when other people would rather I lie. Got kicked out of the Air Force because of that."

"You were in the military?" Hermione asked, with a look of surprise on her face.

"Twenty years ago," Fred said. "Joined up because it was the only way to get by after I ran out of money and had to drop out of Bible college. I was still healthy enough to get in, back then. And about 250 pounds lighter than I am now."

"So all the weight is recent?" Ron asked, then grunted as Hermione elbowed him.

"Yeah," Fred said with a shrug. "After my fibro got bad enough to mess up my sleep, I started gaining weight - even when I was still healthy enough to walk 3 miles a day. When it got so bad I couldn't lift a coffee mug without fear of dropping it, I put on 100 pounds within a few months. After I started insulin, I put on another 100 pounds." He sat back with a cup of tea and sighed. "And you've just seen me eat the largest meal I've had in over a year."

"That was the largest meal you've eaten in a year?" Tonks asked, shocked. "Prisoners eat more than that!"

"Yup," Fred said. "I just don't have the appetite I used to. So what's the plan for this evening?"

"Shopping," Ron said, drawing a surprised look from the others. "Mate, if that book you were reading is your usual fare, you REALLY need to improve your library."

"Not a Lovecraft fan, I see," Fred laughed. "I take it you saw the story I had bookmarked, then."

"Saw it?" Ron exclaimed. "That story would give Voldemort nightmares!"

"Admittedly, it was a good one," Fred laughed, "and it is one of my favorites in that collection, but it's hardly the stuff of nightmares."

"Hardly the...," Ron gaped.

"What ARE you talking about?" Hermione demanded impatiently.

"Long Meg and her Daughters," Fred said with a shrug. "It's a story by Paul Finch, about the place we ran into each other. A story about that place, and its link to the Plateau of Leng and the Seven Cryptical Books of Hsan."

"No, Hermione," Ron said firmly. "IF those books exist, and I sincerely hope they do not, we do NOT want them in our library."

"He's right," Fred said. "If they actually existed, you wouldn't want them in your library, any more than you'd want the Pnakotic Manuscripts, the Eltdown Shards, or Culte des Goules."

"But-" Hermione started.

"No, Hermione," Ron repeated. "This is one time when I have to insist. Besides, we need you to help pick out some PROPER books for him, all right?"

Tonks giggled, and Harry had trouble holding in his own quiet chuckle. Appealing to Hermione's love of books was probably the best way to sidetrack her - although he was certain she'd come back to the topic, whatever it was, when she thought she could.

"Far be it from me to intrude on a family argument," Fred said, "but I'd really rather just take a room if this is going to turn into one. If it's not, why don't we get to that shopping Ron mentioned?"

Ron and Hermione both looked embarrassed, while Harry thought Fred sounded as if he were tired - whether physically or emotionally, it was hard to tell.

"He sounds like someone who's seen far too many fights," Ginny said quietly, as she wrapped her arms around Harry from behind. Harry smiled and leaned his head back against her.

"Or been in them," Harry murmured back as he turned to kiss her. "Finally got away from the office, huh?"

"I had to find out who your new friend is," Ginny teased. "Anyone important enough for you to send Dobby after me must be pretty important."

Fred snorted and finished his butterbeer. "I still prefer ginger beer. This stuff tastes too much like butterscotch, which is way too sweet for me these days."

"Ginny," Harry said, "this is Fred MacManus, who is apparently an untrained wizard. Fred, this is my wife Ginny, who is the only person in the world able to scare her brothers. Once you meet them, you'll understand. They fit the "Mad" definition much better than Hermione does, I think."

"Sounds fun," Fred said with a grin, as he offered his hand to Ginny. "I think I'll enjoy meeting them."

"Ok," Ginny said as she shook Fred's hand, "you definitely don't know them, if you can say something like that. Either that or you're as crazy as they are."

"Or both," Fred laughed and stood up. "So, if we're going shopping, do the stores we're going to take plastic or traveler's checks?"

"No," Hermione said, "but we can stop at Gringott's first and exchange them for money they will accept."

"All right, then," Ron said. "Harry? Ginny? Tonks? Anyone not joining us?"

Ginny smiled and took Harry's arm, while Tonks grinned and playfully asked Fred, "You got a problem with someone who likes older men?"

"Only if you have a problem with an older man who's too tired to take you up on it," Fred shot back with a matching grin as he offered Tonks his arm. "Besides, even with my cane, I think I'm steadier on my feet than you are."

"I'll have you know I'm perfectly steady on my feet," Tonks declared, then tripped and fell into Fred, who laughed as he caught her.

--

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, and it's not from Knights in Tarnished Armor, it's not mine.