Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of it's characters, etc.
This is my First Harry Potter Fanfic. I should mention, this actually had no plot when I started writing it, and has since found one...
Please tell me what you think!^^
Survival of the Reddest
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Loud whooping could be heard long before any sighting could be made out of the two most dangerous gingers on the planet at the current time; a sigh of relief left dry lips. His heart pounded thickly in his chest, glancing back over his shoulder to make sure that the noises hadn't been a diversion…that the coast really was clear…because he really didn't feel the need for another impromptu entire-body-colour-change. At least, not like last time…despite the Twins' strong feelings and protests to the contrary…
A flare of streaming red strands passed him on the stairs, making for the bathroom like lightning; a loud, "Mine!" trailed after Ginny as the door slammed loudly, and with great finality, in his face. Leaving no room for argument.
Ron sighed; this happened every morning you'd think he'd get used to it…or at least, lower his ideology… No one else in the house knew he secretly dreamed of waking up early enough to use the bathroom first of a morning…the Twins would never let him live it down if he did.
Sometimes, you just wanted to get in there and shower before the room was strewn from one corner to the other in beauty products his sister and mother had been given for Christmas from all the others, just once; he groaned and slid down the door to sit. Without obviously doing so, he was marking his claim as next…unless the twins came along, he was not, repeat: NOT going back to Hogwarts a delicate shade of green. Not if his life depended on it…imagine what Malfoy would say!
Footsteps; he turned to look up to his right. Charlie traipsed down the spiral staircase with a sleep-rumpled and rather disgruntled look to his appearance; pausing to stop and smile at his…though it pained Ron to be called it by the others… 'Baby Brother'. Being the youngest boy could be exceptionally annoying on occasion…at least Ginny, being the only girl in the entire household, usually got what she wanted because their mother was always on her side. On this occasion, the older boy simply stood, and stared, with arms folded over his chest in amusement; a broad grin lighting the partially-burned features. He'd unofficially come home for Christmas after being singed by a rather large Hungarian Horntail with a fiery temper, officially, he was 'resting and recuperating'…
Right, like being anywhere near a festive Mrs Weasley –who would, for lack of any other option, take it upon herself to use one of those Muggle 'Chain-saws' on his hair if it wasn't cut- was truly a relaxing experience…still, it was nice that his friends had been able to meet him. Bill too; he'd brought his new girlfriend –that Fleur girl from the Tri-Wizard Tournament, the Beauxbaton champion- to meet their mother…
The only thing they had to watch out for was- "RONNIE-KINS!" cried two identical voices. It was surprising just how much fear and adrenaline those two could inspire without even having their unwitting victim lay eyes upon them… Ron was about to shoot up and bolt for his very life, when there was a thunk; and suddenly, he was viewing the world from a sidelong angle…from sprawled on the floor.
"Oh, sorry Ron, I didn't see you there!" giggled Ginny as she strode from the bathroom.
Whipping around, the second-youngest Weasley dashed into the bathroom and slammed the door shut, stopping short the twin sets of grasping hands that were outstretched as if to ensnare him…Oh, how he wished he could disapperate right about now!
Colour drained from his face. Disapperate…the Twins could-
"I hope you aren't doing anything embarrassing in there, Ronnie!" called Fred, there was a soft sucking sound, then he appeared alongside George, in front of a horrified Ron. Both were beaming. Obviously, he was doomed…
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Harry started in surprise as a neon-pink body plodded itself down beside him at the bustling Kitchen Table for Breakfast…Hermione just parted her lips, seemed to think better of any statement and turned away to hide her surprise. Mrs Weasley tutted under her breath, muttering something about, 'Those boys…' and letting out a small, stifled, giggle of amusement; Mr Weasley simply flicked his copy of The Daily Prophet, licked a thumb and turned the page with a somewhat distracted, "Morning Ron" toward his youngest son.
Something began to twitch under his glasses, as if a physical manifestation of the laughter he was trying to hide from his best friend…no matter what-…what colour he was turned –willingly or otherwise. Still, a snigger escaped. Ron leaned into his empty plate and sunk his glowing face onto the cool creamy white of the ceramic eating surface, "Go on," he muttered to them both, "Let it out…"
Hermione and Harry burst out laughing, but stopped short for two reasons…the first being, how miserable Ron looked; and the second, the eerie way their laughter echoed in a room full of people who seemed not to notice anything was different. As if this was…normal…somehow.
"This happens a lot, doesn't it, Ron?" inquired Hermione, curiosity and sympathy intertwined in her gaze as she gingerly petted the (former) red-head on his neon-pink shoulder. "What…what exactly happened? Maybe I can reverse-…" A pink hand held up the flow of words, "Trust me…nothing will get this off, last time Mum tried everything she knew…that scrubbing spell hurt like Bloody Hell!"
"Ron!" yelled Mrs Weasley, slamming a rolling pin on the table menacingly; he turned to look at her, "What? It did!"
She gave that piercing look that all mothers were capable of, then turned and bustled on with breakfast as her voice rang out, "Bill! Charlie! Fleur! Fred, George! Ginny! Hurry up, Breakfast is served!" Something akin to a stampede occurred, the entire of The Burrows started to quake under the sound of so many pounding feet all coming down the one rickety set of stairs. Stairs which, for their part, bore up well under the strain with naught but the faintest of groans…
Harry held onto his little part of the table for dear life, as did Hermione; Ron, face down in his empty plate and glowing a bright pink, did not seem to notice…nor did the Weasley parents. Either it was a colossal effort at group nonchalance, or they really did deal with this every single day…which was a frightening prospect for both the non-Weasley children sitting at the table.
"Harry…?" inquired Ron, turning to face him; smiling nervously Harry replied, "Yes, Ron?" The pink wizard let out a snort, "Stop looking so damn scared, it's not like they're going to eat you!" he laughed, then paused, looking thoughtful. "Well, just…just stay away from Fred and George…and you won't be eaten…" The quiet reassurance in a voice filled with uncertainty had even Hermione ready to take flight from her seat…until Ron burst out laughing; and the remaining Weasleys burst into the room, all jostling for lead position –save Bill, who was courteously escorting Fleur and fending off his siblings.
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Sliding into Home Base, figuratively speaking, the Twins just about threw Hermione off her chair as their chairs skidded along and into hers…four identical hands somehow catching her, righting the chair and not even breaking eye contact with all the food on the table. Her eyes were as wide as saucers as the chair stopped wobbling finally…
Bill pulled out Fleur's chair and Mrs Weasley smiled, muttering something about chivalry to a half-attentive Mr Weasley as he left off the Daily Prophet, deciding instead to toy with –what Harry would later come to tell him was- a Muggle toaster…obviously broken. But none-the-less dangerous in the man's hands… Who knew what he would enchant it to do?
Charlie sighed, rolled his eyes and sat, giving his long hair a distinctive flick in a deliberate manner to annoy his mother. Something twitched below Mrs Weasley's right eye…
Ginny slipped into her seat with catlike grace and a soft, almost moonstruck smile on her face as gazed at Harry…who promptly hid his face with a breadstick…
Breakfast then descended into a chaotic dance of clinking plate, clattering utensils, loud arguments of who got what first and raucous conversation about anything and everything…especially Ron's lovely new 'tan'…
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Sometimes, he wondered how he survived this madness without going insane…maybe there was simply an immunity you built up after a while, like resistance to a disease…
Shaking his head and allowing droplets of the shower spray to splay all over the shower walls, Ron dismissed such ridiculous thoughts…his family was just that…his family. No matter how much he wished he could disinherit Fred and George…
"You could always disinherit them both?" called the helpful voice of Hermione from the other side of the Bathroom door; where she sat, side by side, with Harry. Keeping up the conversation they'd started after Breakfast whilst Ron attempted to scrub the pink off his skin…fruitlessly it seemed. There wasn't even pink residue flowing off him…whatever the Twins had used this time. "I asked for Christmas when I was eight, Mum said I was being ridiculous and I ended up with Fred's old broom…" he replied.
Harry obviously thought for a moment, "What exactly did they do to you?" he asked, wonder and thought evident in his tone. Ron grumbled a moment, scrubbing extra hard before grumbling and turning off the faucets, "Some new exploding dye they created…the last time they wrapped it up like a present, for my Christmas present; this time, though, they just cornered me in the bathroom and exploded the damn thing in my face. George used Protego and created a shield for the pair of them, I wasn't so lucky…wherever it hits you, it just kind of…keeps going. Know what I mean? Until you're covered, head to toe, in the stuff!"
Towelling off his neon pink body, the youngest Weasley boy waited for the inevitable You Should Have…speech Hermione would be formulating in the silence that followed his words, but there was nothing. Pounding footsteps made their way away from the door, then back; two very similar voices in pursuit…two loud simultaneous bangs could be heard…
"Guys?" he called out, "Harry? Hermione?" Furiously pulling on a T-shirt over his bare chest and doing a quick 'zipper-check' on his jeans before yanking open the door with adrenaline coursing everywhere through his body. Two bodies fell back through the suddenly-open doorway, stunned expressions looking out from two very uniquely coloured faces…outside, Fred and George were beaming like lunatics. "I'd say that was a good shot, Fred!" congratulated one to the other, who replied, "A bullseye if ever I saw one, George!"
"Alright, that's it!" yelled Ron, launching himself at the Twins with something clenched firmly in his hands; breaking the item in half he shoved a piece onto each identical brother and ran, almost in that strange adrenaline-fueled slow-motion he always saw in Muggle Movies. Diving through the Bathroom door –over the still prone and goggling forms of Harry and Hermione- he grabbed their shirts, yanked them further inside and used an extended leg to slam the door home. The world outside exploded…
Ron beamed.
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Three very uniquely coloured students boarded the Hogwarts Express that day, all excited to go back to school for more than just the chance to see old friends again…they were all hoping at least one of the teachers –if not Dumbledore himself!- could remove this…little skin issue they were having. The scent of smoke wafted past as Fred and George passed their compartment, throwing dirty looks in at the Trio –mainly Ron, who had shoved the Fizzbang Everlast Rocket into their midst that day some weeks ago- and continued on…
Lee Jordan, arguably their best friend, could be heard loudly commenting that the Twins looked like a pair of Raccoons…just before the sound of another colour-changing Christmas Cracker [as they had dubbed it, in honour of the first time they'd tested it on Ron at Christmas] exploded over an entire compartment of students.
Shutting the door to drown out the noise, Neon-pink Ron looked over his shoulder to beam unreservedly at the brilliantly bright blue visage of Hermione, face crammed deep in some musty old tome she'd borrowed from the school library long before term break; likewise, a violently yellow Harry grinned back, their justice having been served long ago.
It was now a long running joke in the Weasley household…
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Only one obstacle remained, however and that was-
"Potter, what have you and the Mudblood been getting up to at Weasel's house?" came an annoyingly pointed voice.
-Draco Malfoy.
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"Oh, you know…" smiled Harry, dangerously, eyes lighting up behind his glasses - even Hermione looked up from her book with a malicious grin- as they watched Ron palm a small bright purple object, a very familiar object…if not for the colour.
"Nothing much…" he finished, as Ron hurled the pellet at the blonde boy. As the train's whistle sounded into the dim grey sky, three colourful students began to laugh uncontrollably as their adversary's language became as colourful as his body…
Ah, Hogwarts was going to be interesting this term…
What did you think? Please Review.
*subtle hint*
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