A/N: Hey, y'all! This was written for Round 3 of the QLFC. Thanks to my sister and Amber for betaing!
Chaser 2: Furby
(Dialogue) "Pay attention to me."
(Word) horror
(Genre) Humor
Word Count: 2803
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Those rights go to JK Rowling.
Enjoy!
The prank was ruined before sunrise.
Lee Jordan, the Weasley twins' dorm mate and close friend, wiped his hand across his dark brow. "Let me get this straight," he began. "You snuck into the forest last night—without me, might I add—and smuggled fifty small creatures into the dorm. You both fell asleep and lost them?"
The previous night, Fred and George Weasley had snuck into the Forbidden Forest to find inspiration for a prank to kick off the end of their first year at Hogwarts. There in the forest, they had stumbled upon about fifty tiny, furry creatures. They had large, bat-like ears, bulbous eyes, had an orange beak, and were about six inches tall. They reminded Fred of the Muggle toy his father had brought home once for Ginny— Furbys.
It hadn't taken long for the boys to realize that the Furbys repeated everything that was said to them in a high, squeaky voice. They took orders, too. So Fred and George had smuggled them into the castle, with the intent to use them to cause confusion amongst the teachers, providing enough distraction for the Weasley twins to set up their real prank while avoiding suspicion.
But now they were missing.
Fred put his hands up in defense. "We were tired! We locked the door. I don't know how they got out. All I know is that they were gone when we woke up!"
George put his head in his hands and groaned. "If Mum gets wind of this, we're dead."
Fred glared at his partner-in-crime. "Don't jinx us."
"Well," Lee clapped his hands together optimistically, "we'll just have to search the castle. I mean, how much trouble could they possibly get into?"
As it turned out, they could into a lot of trouble.
The three boys made their way to the Great Hall, to begin the search there, before anyone went down for breakfast.
The sight that met them filled them with horror.
They were the last few, apparently, to enter the Great Hall— the rest of the school must have been drawn out of their beds by the commotion in front of them.
There were the Furbys, running wildly through the Hall; hurtling through ghosts, toppling the hourglasses containing House points, and sliding through spilled pumpkin juice. Most horrifying of all, however, was Peeves.
In the middle of the chaos, Peeves floated above everyone, cackling evilly.
"Yes, my minions! Turn over the tables! Rip the tapestries!"
One hundred Furbys (they seemed to have doubled in population) shouted as one, "Turn over the tables! Rip the tapestries!" They then proceeded to do just that.
Lee gaped at the scene in front of him. "If your mum doesn't kill you," he breathed, "then McGonagall definitely will."
The twins gulped.
Just then, the Deputy Headmistress caught sight of them. She quickly made her way over to them, her lips pressed so tightly together they almost disappeared.
"You two!" she barked angrily. "To my office. Now."
They didn't need telling twice.
Fred watched Professor McGonagall's eye twitch, fascinated. He'd never seen her face radiate such blatant disapproval before.
He'd be quite pleased with himself if it wasn't so scary.
"Do you mean to tell me," she began in a dangerous voice. "that not only did the two of you wander around after hours, which is expressly forbidden, but that you also took a midnight stroll through a dangerous forest and brought back unfamiliar creatures?"
The boys glanced at each other nervously.
"Well," George said meekly. "It seems a lot worse when you put it like that…"
The eye twitch grew more rapid. "Detention. Two weeks. My office."
"Yes, Professor." the boys sighed.
McGonagall stood, and the only thing protecting the twins from her wrath was the desk that stood in between them. "Twenty points will be taken from each of you. Be thankful that it isn't more."
The boys nodded, relieved. Both knew that they had gotten off lightly, as far as McGonagall's punishments went.
"And neither of you will be attending the next Quidditch match." she added.
"But Professor!" Fred protested. "That's not fair—"
"— we didn't mean to let them loose!" George finished. "Besides—"
"—how much trouble can they really get up to?" Fred looked at her pleadingly.
As soon as the words left his mouth, there was a loud crash from outside the room. The door flew open and Peeves swooped in, shouting excitedly, followed by a stampede of Furbys. They ran through the room at Peeves' command, imitating his battle cry and leaving red and green footprints in their wake; Fred suspected that they had gotten into some paint.
McGonagall raised a single eyebrow, looking pointedly at the twins.
"You were saying?"
Throughout the week, the Furbys continued to cause chaos under Peeves' control. Much to McGonagall's displeasure, Headmaster Dumbledore seemed to think that the twins should be the ones to banish the little creatures from the castle.
This was proving to be more difficult than expected.
On Monday, Peeves decided to lead his army in a live performance of the Scottish National Anthem during lunch— kilts, bagpipes, and all.
On Tuesday, Peeves launched an attack on Filch and Mrs. Norris— he even armed the Furbys with forks and dungbombs. The fifth-floor corridor was still out of commission.
Wednesday night was when Peeves decided to stick everyone's trunks to the ceilings of the dorms. Dressing the next morning was difficult.
Thursday, pictures of Peeves has been plastered to every available surface (Fred and George were secretly impressed that the poltergeist had successfully taught the Furbys to operate a camera).
Now it was Friday, and the students of Hogwarts were nervously awaiting the next prank.
The scene that awaited them in the Great Hall was truly alarming.
The Great Hall was completely transformed. Not only were the House tables floating upside down, but the candles that were usually so elegantly suspended in midair were spinning about in large, undefined shapes, leaving trails of fire in their wake. The ceiling, normally enchanted to reveal the sky, now looked like an explosion of neon-colored paint. The forks and knives were engaged in a swordfight, the spoons were flying around the rooms with the napkins tied around them like capes, and the cups and plates were busy choreographing what looked like the beginnings of a ballet. Furbys occupied every inch of the floor, hopping up and down and chanting in squeaky voices. It took Fred a minute to make out what they were saying, but when he did he wanted to put his head in his hands.
"Smash the windows, lock the doors
Dung and water bombs galore!
Peevsie says to drive them mad
It's just so fun, being bad!"
Right in the middle of all the madness sat Peeves, perched proudly in the Headmaster's chair.
They'd be expelled for sure.
Fred felt a hand grip his shoulder tightly. Slowly, he turned around, only to come face to face with a livid Minerva Mcgonagall.
"You two boys are excused from your classes today," she told the twins stiffly. "Get those monstrosities out of the castle."
Fred and George exchanged a look. History of Magic sounded very appealing all of a sudden.
George peered over their makeshift fort. "Fred, I need more—"
"Dungbombs?" Fred guessed gloomily. "We're all out."
George cursed under his breath. "What about—"
"We're out of water bombs, too." Fred interrupted lazily.
"Then get me some—"
"There are no more stink pellets, ever-banishing boomerangs, or belch powder left either."
George frowned. "Well. I guess we can't prank them out of the castle."
For hours now, the boys had been trying (and failing) to set up a number of unpleasant pranks that might drive the Furbys out of Hogwarts. Unfortunately, the little creatures seemed completely devoted to Peeves, and didn't seem to mind when they walked through a dungbomb-heavy corridor, nor were they bothered by classrooms turned to swimming pools. But horror began to bubble up in Fred at his brother's words.
"What do you mean, we can't out-prank them?" he asked, praying he had heard wrong.
Not once in their lives had pranking failed them. It was what the twins turned to in every situation— Ginny is upset? Trade out Percy's soap for frogspawn soap! Dad's had a bad day at work? Throw a few whizzing worms into his tea!— and the thought that pranking could not help them in this situation was nothing short of—
"Horrifying, I know." George had guessed what his brother was thinking. "But this time we might have to actually take this…"
He trailed off, but Fred had a bad feeling that he knew what word had gone unspoken. "Seriously?"
George paled slightly. "Yeah."
Both boys shuddered. George sank to the ground next to Fred. They were sitting in the Charms corridor, chairs and desks piled up in front of them as a makeshift barrier. Peeves and the Furbys were of the other side, writing obscene words and phrases on the walls. Most of them were unflattering descriptions of the Weasley twins.
Fred glanced at some of Peeves' artwork. He groaned. "McGonagall won't show any mercy. That one's insulting her tartan dressing gown."
George looked up, alarmed. "But why? I thought Peeves thought we were funny!"
Fred scowled, sinking back down to the floor. "Treason, is what it is. Pranksters should stick together, not be at each other's throats!"
George's eyes lit up. He gave Fred a familiar mischievous grin— one Fred couldn't help but reciprocate. George had an idea.
"Well, Fred, maybe we can convince Peeves of that."
"Oh, Peevsie doesn't think so."
"Oh, Peevsie doesn't think so!"
Fred and George whipped around to find Peeves floating smugly in front of them. The twins scanned the ground, but Peeves' mischievous minions were nowhere to be found.
George tried to smooth things over. "Hullo, Peeves! We were just admiring your handiwork—"
"Love the bit about snobbish Slytherins." Fred put in.
"— and Fred and I thought, well, why weren't we—"
"Two bright, handsome mischief makers with an irredeemable track record—"
"— allying ourselves with such a creative, devilish prankster such as yourself?"
"With such great fashion sense, too!" Fred couldn't help but add, eyeing his bell-covered hat and orange bow tie.
Peeves tapped his chin thoughtfully, the bells on his hat jingling merrily. "Mmm. Peevsie doesn't think the Weasel boys are being honest. Naughty, naughty. Didn't your mummy tell you to tell the truth? Maybe my friends can teach you Weasel boys a lesson…"
To the boys' astonishment, Peeves rocketed upwards towards the ceiling where, they now saw, the missing Furbys were waiting— on brooms.
"Pay attention to me!" Peeves screamed. Once he was satisfied that he had their attention, he said simply, "Attack."
Fred and George began running, looking desperately for a hiding place. The Furbys were pelting all sorts of things at them— nose-biting teacups, bulbadox powder, shrieking books, and more— as they chased after the boys in their brooms. There were more of them than there had been that morning; they seemed to be multiplying.
The boys rushed into an empty classroom, now sporting bite marks from the teacups and warts from the powder. Ears ringing, Fred turned to George.
"How— how do we—"
George grit his teeth. "I don't know."
Fred scratched his wart-covered hand irritably. This misadventure was really beginning to grate on his nerves. He deeply regretted bringing the Furby-like creatures into the castle.
He looked at George, who had begun applying wart-removal cream onto his blemished skin. "We have to get those things out of here. It's like having two hundred extra Peeves! One I can tolerate, but this is too much."
George tossed his brother the cream before speaking. "Well, pranking back didn't work. Neither did attempting to compromise. I dunno what else we can do… maybe unleash Percy? He could bore them to the brink of insanity— then they'd run back to the forest!"
Fred laughed. "He could drone on to them about the thickness of cauldrons for hours. Or we could have him team up with Binns!"
George roared with laughter. "The two most boring beings in the school— no one would stand a chance!"
"Those Furbys would be dying to escape!" Fred chortled.
George looked at him curiously. "Furbys?"
"I thought they looked like Ginny's toy," Fred explained.
George chuckled. "You're right, they do."
Once their laughter had died away, Fred had an idea. He darted back out into the corridor and grabbed two large butterfly nets from Filch's supply
closet.
Wordlessly, he handed one to George.
As it turned out, the Furbys were too fast to be caught in nets, and simply grabbing them caused them to multiply— obviously, other students had tried this already.
After increasing the Furby population to nearly five hundred, the Weasley twins were just about ready to call it quits. This was not something they wanted to do, as it would be a major blow to their reputation— and their pride.
They had collapsed onto the floor of the Great Hall from exhaustion. Fred's head was spinning. All he could hear was the new chant Peeves had taught the little monsters:
"Weasel, weasel, Weasley twins
Thicker than ten bowling pins
Tried to catch us, tried to shout—
But Peevsie's in, and twins are out!"
Fred ground his teeth. This meant war.
George giggled to himself. Fred glanced at him, worried about his brother's sanity.
At his look, George explained. "I can't believe we're losing to Furbys."
Fred laughed at that, slowly at first, but then faster and louder. Soon, both boys were laughing hysterically, cool tears streaming down their flushed and freckled faces.
"Is everything all right, boys?" an amused voice inquired.
Still giggling, the boys looked up at their visitor.
"Oh, hullo, Nick," Fred greeted the ghost. "Everything's fine."
"Simply smashing." agreed George.
"We let those beastly things into the castle—" explained Fred.
"— and now they've rallied behind Peeves, the little traitors." finished George, still chuckling.
"Now Mcgonagall will have our hides if we don't drive those things away—"
"— and we have tried every method known to man to get rid of them, but nothing's working!"
Nearly Headless Nick regarded them thoughtfully, tugging gently on his left earlobe, causing his head to wobble.
"Well, I must admit that I don't know much about these creatures, though I agree they are rather bothersome," he began. "But if they answer only to Peeves, then why don't you just ask for help from someone Peeves listens to?"
"We can't ask Dumbledore," George tried to say. "He wouldn't—"
"No, not Dumbledore," interrupted Nick. "The Bloody Baron."
Fred wanted to curse himself for his stupidity.
Luckily, the Bloody Baron agreed to help them. Apparently the ghost was tired of listening to the Slytherin students' many complaints. It was the first time the twins had really appreciated the house of the snakes. Now all the twins could do was sit back and hope for the best. They were in the Great Hall, watching as the Slytherin ghost confronted the poltergeist.
"Peeves," The Baron said in his hoarse whisper. "Enough is enough. You must return those creatures to the forest."
Peeves froze in mid air, obviously caught between his love for mischief and his fear of the Baron.
"But your bloodiness," he weakly protested. "Poor Peevsie doesn't want to let his friends go! If Mr Baron were to reconsider—"
"No." boomed the Baron. "I will not. I am, however, willing to negotiate. What do you wish to have as compensation?"
Peeves' eyes glittered maliciously. "Well…"
In the end, Peeves gained access to the rotten fruit from the kitchens to throw at students, was promised a supply of water balloons to drop onto people's heads (only on hot days), and received many packages of ink pellets to alleviate his boredom.
Of course, Peeves also requested that the students give his retiring army a proper send off (this consisted of fireworks, boiled eggs, and quite a lot of pepper). Soon afterwards, things returned to normal.
They cleaned up the Furbys' mess without magic for detention— which, both boys had to admit, was more than fair. It amused Lee greatly, and he would often go with them to watch them suffer through the tidying up.
The experience didn't put the boys off pranking, though it did get them a few Howlers (the most impressive Howlers McGonagall had ever seen, she informed them). In fact, just four weeks later, the boys found themselves in Filch's office for setting off a dungbomb in the corridor.
Things got interesting when they caught sight of a drawer labeled "Confiscated and Highly Dangerous", with a bit of parchment sticking out.
Oh, yes. There was quite a lot more mischief to get up to in the future.