"We're buggered," Harry said, peering darkly at Ron across the sitting room at Grimmauld Place.
"You didn't touch it did you?" Ron's voice was heavy with alarm.
Harry stammered, "Well...I..."
"Are you mental!"
"No, but..."
"After everything we've done! After everything we survived last year! How could you be so bloody stupid!"
"I didn't think..."
"You've been Head Auror for all of four months, you stupid git! What would you have done if it was cursed! Do you think I'm that anxious to get promoted?"
"I'm sure it wasn't..."
"Have you suddenly forgotten how dangerous they are? What they're capable of?"
Harry cast his eyes at the floor. Ron just shook his head in angry disbelief as he took out his wand and waved it at the parchment that sat on the coffee table between them. "Specialis Revelio." Beads of nervous perspiration sprang out on Ron's forehead.
Harry looked up. "See? It seems safe. I really didn't think..."
Ron cut across him again. "You're a lucky fool, Potter." Momentarily placated, Ron snatched up the parchment and began to read.
Harry and Ron, Tonight was the eighth time in the past month that you have stood us up. We're tired of hearing the "work" excuse, the "we had to save the world" excuse and the "we're stupid gits" excuse. We'll be staying at Hermione's flat. If either of you know what's good for you, you won't owl us, you won't Floo us and you won't Apparate to the front door. We've collaborated on improving the Bat Bogey hex, so unless you'd like to be our first test subjects on the new and improved version, leave us both alone until you get your priorities straight. Ginny and Hermione
"Well?" Harry asked.
"You're right. We're buggered."
HpHpHp
Four hours earlier...
"Mate," Ron said around a donut, "We can't be late tonight."
Ron had his feet propped up on Harry's desk, absent-mindedly brushing crumbs off his Assistant Head Auror's Badge.
"Tell me about it. Lemme finish this report and we'll Floo out of here. Did you make the reservations?" Harry asked.
"Yep." Ron grabbed another donut from the table near the wall of their shared office. "Chateau le Lune, 7 p.m. Harry, we can't miss this one. They'll both go completely mental."
"Merlin's doghouse! I got an earful from your sister last time. I've never come so close to catching that Bat Bogey hex..." Harry shuddered at the thought. Ginny's eyes had blazed Fiendfyre at him when he had finally gotten back to Grimmauld Place, four hours late for what was supposed to be their make-up romantic dinner from the week before, which was to make-up for a missed movie with Ron and Hermione the week before that, which was to be a make-up date for...Oh, bugger, you get the idea.
"Oh no, don't even try to pass her off as my sister. She's your fiancée, no longer my responsibility," Ron retorted. "Besides, my fiancée did hex my sorry..."
Ron's musings were interrupted as the entire office shook. It felt as if a giant had decided to treat the Ministry like a martini shaker.
Ron was tossed out of his chair; Harry was thrown across his desk. The pictures on the wall, displaying Ron, Harry, Ginny and Hermione on holiday and other members of the Weasley clan at family gatherings crashed to the floor, their occupants grabbing hold of each other in terror.
Kingsley's Patronus sprang into their office even before the tremors ceased and delivered its message: "Get to the Atrium. They're here."
Harry and Ron, wands out, struggled to their feet and flew out the office door. In the halls of the Ministry was pure chaos. Wizards and witches were scrambling down the hallways, not knowing which way to turn. Screams, shouts and swearing filled the air as Harry and Ron wended their way through the anarchy.
"Out of the way! Everyone, get to the emergency exits!" Harry shouted above the din as another violent tremor shook the building. Ron was thrown into Harry, who just barely managed to right his partner before they both went sprawling into a wizard trying to maneuver a food trolley through the crowded hallway.
"Thanks, mate. Would've been a shame to have upset that cart of delectables," Ron said.
"Will you get your mind off food! We have work to do."
"Right. You heard the Head Auror! Clear the halls! Get to the exits!"
After what felt like swimming up stream for several frantic minutes, Ron and Harry burst into the atrium only to find it empty.
"Where's King?" Ron asked, looking frantically around the cavernous room.
"This isn't good," Harry said as he and Ron immediately went back-to-back, scanning for enemies.
A blinding white flash erupted above them. Harry and Ron shielded their eyes. As the flash subsided, three four-story high banners descended from the ceiling.
"You have to be kidding me," Ron spat, his disgust evident.
Harry just shook his head as he read the banners.
Potter Sucks! Weasley is a tosser!
This message brought to you by The Dead Beaters.
"Not tonight. Not again," Harry mourned.
Then the floor began to shake. But this time the tremor was different.
"Harry?"
"What?"
"Why are all of the fireplaces glowing?"
"Oh, bollocks."
The trembling continued to build ominously and then it happened.
From every fireplace surrounding the cathedral-like atrium came pouring thousands upon thousands of pygmy puffs.
HpHpHpHp
"Do either of you Mensa candidates want to explain to me how this happened?" Kingsley asked his Head and Assistant Head Aurors as they stood at attention in front of his desk. The room was still completely disheveled from the violent earthquake that had nearly capsized the Ministry only an hour earlier. A pygmy puff danced across Kinsgley's shambles of a desk as he tried, in vain, to catch it.
"King..." Harry began, but a glower from the Minister told him this was no time for informality. "Ahem, Minister, we just don't know yet."
"That's what you two have been telling me for the past month!"
"There's no pattern, sir. It's just random acts of anarchy," Harry explained, brushing a pygmy puff off his shoulder.
Kingsley glowered at them as he picked up a scrap of parchment from his cluttered desk. "Five hundred pounds of fizzing whizbees dumped into the fountain in the Atrium four weeks ago."
"We've checked Zonko's and I've spoken with my brother George, no one knows where they managed to get that much," Ron said weakly, batting yet another pygmy puff away with his foot as it squeaked.
Kingsley only glared at him; Ron blanched. The Minister glanced back down at his parchment.
"Puking pastilles and Nosebleed Nougat charmed to look like pate at the International Wizarding Conference three weeks ago."
"We've checked the house elves, sir. They assure us the food wasn't tampered with," Harry added and immediately regretted it.
"Then can you tell me why the German Chancellor of Magic projectile vomited all over the Japanese Minister?"
"No sir." Harry had gone pale. The pygmy puffs began to exit the office in fear.
"Or why the Swedish Consul bled all over me for nearly an hour before the healers could get it to stop!"
"No sir." Ron felt as if he were about to pass out. He desperately wanted to join the pygmy puff exodus.
"Or why the American Magical Executive sprayed half-digested treacle tart all over my wife!" Kingsley's voice had raised yet another octave.
This time, the Head and Assistant remained silent. The last pygmy puff answered for them, with a small squeak, as it left the Minister's Office.
Kingsley's eyes dropped back to his parchment with a grunt. "Two weeks ago," Kingsley continued slowly, "every single toilet in the Ministry exploded and the backwash water charmed everyone that was in the loo at the time to sing 'If you love somebody, set them free' and dance around the Ministry for an hour."
Ron couldn't stifle his chuckle, turning to Harry. "That was a pretty good one. I love that song."
"Good groove. Still can't get it out of my head," Harry snickered without thinking.
"ENOUGH!" Kingsley's booming voice brought them both back to attention. Then he sighed. "Look. You two did a tremendous job rounding up the last of the Death Eaters. The realm is grateful. I also know you're still struggling, trying to reconstitute the Auror Corps out of Dumbledore's Army. But if you two geniuses don't stop these, these...What are they calling themselves?"
"Dead Beaters, sir," Harry answered.
"These Dead Beaters, I'll string both of you up by your Orders of Merlin! Do I make myself clear?"
"Yessir!" they chorused.
"That won't look as flattering on your Chocolate Frog Cards," Kingsley finished.
"No sir!" they chorused again.
"Right. Now, neither one of you will leave this building until every single one of those pygmy puffs is cleaned out of my Ministry. Are we clear?"
"Crystal, sir," the chorus echoed yet again. Ron and Harry then hurriedly left the Minister's Office.
"You didn't tell him about the Dead Beaters sending us what we thought was his Patronus," Ron said.
"Ronald," Harry turned slowly to his best mate, "do you really think that would have helped our sorry situation at all? Hasn't Hermione drilled any sense into you yet?"
Ron gulped. Then Harry smiled. Ron chortled. Harry laughed. In seconds they were both falling all over themselves, tears streaking down their faces as they guffawed uncontrollably.
Ron desperately sucked air, "We have to get away from King's office." Gasp. "If he hears us he'll kill us." The two breathless Aurors sped, laughing, down the hallway (dodging pygmy puffs) until there was a safe distance between them and their Minister.
When they finally caught their breath, Harry felt a cold, unpleasant, sensation spread through his midsection. "Oh, Merlin!"
"The girls!"
HpHpHpHp
Back at Grimmauld Place, five hours later...
Harry had poured them both a very tall Firewhiskey. Ron took it appreciatively, propping his feet up on Harry's settee.
"Buggered," Harry said for about the tenth time since they'd come back to Grimmauld Place and found Hermione and Ginny's note.
"Beyond all recognition," Ron finished, downing half his glass. "If I didn't know better I'd think it was George behind the Dead Beaters."
"We eliminated him as a suspect. Remember?" Harry responded, taking a swig from his own tumbler. He sighed. "What in the name of Merlin's rolling pin are we going to do about the girls?"
"Leave the country until they cool off. France is nice this time of year."
"I'm serious."
"And I'm not?"
Harry gave Ron a solemn look. "Come to think of it, I'd rather face Riddle again than be a guinea pig for the new Bat Bogey hex." The idea of a collaboration that involved Ginny's temper combined with Hermione's brains chilled him to the bone.
Ron nodded his agreement. "We need a plan."
"You're the chess master."
"I got nothing, mate."
"France?"
"France." Ron tinked his tumbler against Harry's as they downed the last of their Firewhiskey.
"I assume you're staying here tonight?" Harry asked his best mate, refilling their glasses.
"You read the note."
Harry nodded. "And I noticed they said 'Hermione's flat,' and not 'Ron and Hermione's flat.'"
"Right in one," Ron said grimly.
Harry was not relishing the thought of spending a night away from his beloved Ginny. But given the right state she and 'Mione were obviously in, discretion seemed the better part of valor.
Just then, with a whoosh, a form stepped out of the fireplace.
"Mum!" Harry and Ron both exclaimed as Molly Weasley entered the sitting room, carrying a huge grocery bag.
"Hello boys," she said with a heavy sigh, dropping the bag in an empty chair and scooping them both into one of her signature motherly hugs. After releasing them, she cast her appraising eye on them both. "I see you didn't waste time finding the Firewhiskey."
Harry looked at her guiltily. "You heard?"
"I got an owl from Ginny fifteen minutes ago."
"And?" asked Ron.
Molly shook her head. "You're buggered."
Harry and Ron both stared at each other, unable to suppress their incredulous smiles. Molly sat down in one of the wingback chairs that Ginny had only recently purchased as part of her redecorating project for Grimmauld Place.
After Molly settled in she turned to the Head Auror. "Harry dear, do you know how much I love hearing you call me Mum?"
Harry blushed and nodded.
"And how much I want you to marry my daughter and finally become a full-fledged part of this family?"
Harry nodded again.
She turned to Ron. "And you know how much I adore Hermione and desperately want her to be my daughter-in-law."
Ron nodded.
Molly took a deep breath. "Then why are you two doing everything in your power to bollix this up?"
Harry and Ron's jaws dropped.
Molly sighed again. "You haven't eaten yet, have you?"
"No, Mum, we just got back from the Ministry," Ron replied.
"Come, then." She picked up her grocery bag, as she headed into Harry's kitchen. "We can't plan your way out of the disaster you've gotten yourselves into on an empty stomach."
Harry winked at Ron, who smiled back. They may have been completely outnumbered, outclassed and outgunned by Ginny and Hermione, but now they had an ace in the hole. Molly Weasley to the rescue!
Two hours later, after Harry and Ron were stuffed to the gills with vegetable soup, shepherds pie and chocolate cake (Harry had three helpings of each, Ron, four), Molly began to educate two of the most celebrated war heroes in Wizarding Britain about a subject upon which, she was saddened to realize, they were completely ignorant: women.
Molly listened patiently to the details of the depths of the catastrophe her son and, hopefully, future son-in-law had descended into. Then, with a deep sigh, Molly held forth. "There's really only one way through this."
Harry and Ron both stared at her, their attention rapt. She fixed them with a wizened gaze. "Complete and utter abject humiliation."
HpHpHp
Saturday morning, on the streets of Hogsmeade...
Ron's coloring alternated between deathly pale and fire-engine red as they walked up the High Street. "I don't know if I can do this."
"Man-up, Weasley. I can't do this alone. Do you think I have any aptitude for this kind of thing?" They continued to walk, doggedly, toward Ron and Hermione's flat. Wait, that's not right. Hermione's flat. This day's trials would determine whether Ron's name would ever again be included in describing that locale.
"And I do?" Ron asked. "I really hope he knows what he's doing with that charm."
"Courage, Ron. He's the only one who can pull it off. 'Cept for 'Mione or maybe one of the Dead Beaters."
"Funny. If this works, we may owe it all to them." Ron tried to smile; it didn't stick.
"And the Prophet. We may get some sympathy from the girls because of that wretched headline." Harry grimaced.
The Morning Prophet contained a horridly unflattering article about the youthful Head and Assistant Head of the Auror Office following the most recent Dead Beater assault the night before. The headline? "Potter Sucks and Weasley is a Tosser!"
"It's still a little chilly for this, mate," Ron said, hesitantly.
"Do you have a better idea?"
"France."
They continued the last few blocks in silence.
At last, they reached the flat. Harry looked at Ron. "Are you ready?"
"No," he muttered. "Do it anyway."
"Kreacher!"
With a crack, the house-elf appeared and, hesitantly announced, "Kreacher is here."
"Are they awake in there?" Harry asked the house elf.
Kreacher nodded, but he was scowling.
"Do you remember what to do?" Harry asked.
The house-elf looked at the two Aurors. "Master Harry, this is...most unusual."
Ron pleaded to Harry, "Please, mate. Before I lose my nerve."
"Kreacher, this is really important," Harry implored. Kreacher nodded resignedly and clapped his hands.
In a flash, the youngest Head and Assistant Head of the Auror's Office in the history of the Ministry; two of the five youngest members to have ever received the Order of Merlin, (the other three being Hermione, Ginny and Neville); two of the most famous war heroes in all of Wizarding Britain...were standing on the stoop of 221B High Street wearing nothing but white boxer shorts with little red hearts on them. Small angel's wings had sprouted from their shoulders.
The morning passersby halted, clearly befuddled by the sight as the two previously clothed wizards were now nearly starkers. The small crowd's confusion was only heightened when Harry and Ron began to sing and play the guitar and bass, respectively, that had appeared in their hands.
If I built this fortress around your heart
Encircled you in trenches and barbed wire
Then let me build a bridge, for I cannot fill the chasm
And let me set the battlements on fire*
Ginny was sitting at the kitchen table drinking her tea as she and Hermione shared the Prophet. They were still in their nightgowns and smoldering over the complete lack of sensitivity their fiancé's had shown them.
"Did you see the lead article?" Ginny asked with a slightly evil smile.
"Yes. I couldn't have written a better headline."
"It does sum it up rather nicely, doesn't it?" Ginny replied.
Then they heard something from the front stoop.
"What is that?" Hermione asked, her brow furrowing.
"It sounds like…"
"No," Hermione gasped. "It couldn't be."
The two witches looked at each other in confusion. Luckily, Ron and Harry's ploy had been so unexpected, the two forgot their wands as they ran to the front door.
Opening it, they stared in complete shock as a nearly naked angel-winged Harry rocked his hips back and forth, the unmistakable voice of Sting coming from his mouth as he strummed his guitar. An equally naked angel-winged Ron, right beside him, strumming a bass, was singing back up.
"Do we hex them now or wait for the song to finish?" Ginny asked, but she couldn't suppress her smile.
"Oh. I don't know. Let's let them finish. If the charm breaks and we have to hear their real voices singing this song, we'll put them both out of our misery," was Hermione's response. Despite herself, Hermione couldn't keep from smirking.
Harry's eyebrows rose in alarm with the comment and Ron nearly lost the beat. But, blessedly, the charm held until the song finished. The small gathered crowd broke into applause.
Then Kreacher appeared in front of Britain's newest half-naked musical duo, holding two gigantic bouquets of roses and two equally large chocolate assortments from Honeydukes.
"Mistress Ginny and Mistress Hermione, Master Harry and Master Ron bid me to invite the two of you to dine this evening at Chateau le Lune at seven. They also implore you to forgive them and not...hex their...manhood." Kreacher finished with a deep bow.
"Well?" Ginny looked askance at Hermione.
She sighed, "I do like the boxers."
Ginny gave a very slight nod.
Hermione looked at the two, now shivering Aurors (Ron was right, it was a bit chilly for this). "Listen you two. This is your last chance. You will pick us up here tonight. If you're late, if you get lost, if you're kidnapped by Riddle's ghost, we'll find you, we'll hex you and we'll leave you. Is that clear?"
"Crystal!" they chorused.
HpHpHp
Chateau le Lune, later that evening...
Harry and Ron were dressed to the nine's. (Ron had finally purchased new dress robes). Harry had even managed to tame his hair. But their ladies were simply stunning.
Ginny wore a sleek green silk evening gown, with a slit that ran nearly to her hip. Hermione was dressed in a red silk gown that brilliantly set off her brown locks. Every eye in the restaurant was on the two witches. Harry and Ron beamed with pride.
Look but don't touch, they both thought as they stared at all the envious glares they were receiving.
Midway through the entree, the subject turned to their…errm…performance earlier that morning.
"Why'd you pick Gordon?" Hermione asked.
"Who?" Ron responded.
"Gordon Sumner, you dolt. That's Sting's real name." She rested her hand on Ron's.
"Oh, well, it took a great deal of planning. We talked about it awhile," Ron responded.
"We finally got the Sting idea from the stunt the Dead Beaters pulled last week," Harry concluded. "But the song they picked didn't seem appropriate."
"So, Mum suggested 'Fortress Around Your Heart.' Seems she listens to more than Celestina Warbeck on the wireless," Ron put in with a smile.
"Well, you really didn't do him any favors covering his music," Ginny said, her eyes flashing as she ran her hand up Harry's thigh under the table. "But I did like the boxers."
Harry nearly choked on his champagne.
"So what are you going to do about the Dead Beaters? If you hadn't noticed, it's more than just the Ministry they've been threatening to undermine," Hermione said, referring to the Quartet's fledgling engagements. The Dead Beaters hijinks had been the primary reason Ron and Harry had been absent fiancés for the past month.
"We're at a loss. It seems so much like something George would do..." Frustration spread across Ron's face.
"But we know it's not him; he checks out. Besides, he wouldn't do this to us," Harry finished.
"Did you ever think it might be someone who's studied his exploits?" Hermione asked.
"Of course, but who?" Ron asked.
No one had an answer.
"It feels like revenge. Revenge of a very specific and tailored kind." Hermione was almost wistful.
"Well, if I ever get my hands on them..." Ginny couldn't finish as Hermione concluded the thought. "The last thing they'll see is just how nasty that new Bat Bogey hex really is."
As if on cue, a good portion of the patrons (everyone who'd been drinking the Cabernet) began to dance and sing. Sting was apparently still on the Dead Beater's repertoire because the song was "Brand New Day."
"Bloody hell!" Harry shouted.
"Wait! Look!" Ron was pointing frantically to the kitchen door. Someone was trying to sneak hurriedly out of the restaurant, a vial of potion in her hand.
"Stupefy!" Harry and Ron both hit the witch with stunning spells. But she was quick; her shield charm deflected a portion of the spell. She wasn't unconscious, but dazed.
Hermione cast an anti-Apparation charm. Ginny magically sealed the doors and windows.
"It can't be her!" Harry exclaimed.
"Merlin's fuzzy pink cats!" Ron hissed, shaking his head.
Of course it was her. Who else had suffered at the hands of the antics of Fred and George so much so as to have thoroughly memorized their tactics? Who else had been so overly traumatized by the never-ending war against her authority? Who else hated Harry Potter and his friends more? (Well, not counting Riddle, anyway).
"Umbridge," Harry spat.
He and Ron began to close on the old bag when they were pulled up short by their stunningly beautiful dates.
"Love, I think this is women's work," Ginny said, casting a devilishly evil smile at Harry.
"Yes indeed," Hermione added and then turned to Ron. "Sweetie, why don't you take Harry to the bar for about an hour. After we're done, you two can Floo the Ministry and they can take what's left of her to Azkaban. Then we'll go back to our flat..." Hermione stood on tiptoe and kissed Ron's cheek.
He looked over to see his sister whispering in his best mate's ear. Harry blushed three shades of crimson, smiled, laughed and nodded.
Ginny and Hermione exchanged determined looks and trudged off to where a staggering Umbridge was regaining her feet.
"Fancy a Whiskey, mate?" Ron asked Harry.
"Love one." Harry said. Then he sighed. "I almost feel sorry for the old bag."
Ron shot Harry a dirty look.
"I said almost."
Harry and Ron strolled arm in arm toward the bar.
"Fair enough. I bet the pink nightmare wishes she'd gone to France," Ron chortled.
"Yep. For a change, someone else is buggered."
Ignoring Umbridge's cries for mercy as their fiancées set to work, Harry and Ron laughed and tinked their tumblers together.
A/N: There's a reality just to the left of the Children's Crusade Universe that I keep handy for stories like this one. Things in that reality are…well…let's just say it's a happier (and much more silly) place than the grabbed-by-the-throat canon Post Hogwarts Universe I've created for most of my stories. I hope this peek into it gave you a laugh.
But, if you'd like to see the more serious (Sirius?) side of things, here's the Crusadiverse Timeline, as of July 15, 2011:
1996 – Fall – "More Skill than Luck" (main story line) one shot - posted
1998 – July – "Hermione's Wand" – one shot - posted
1999- August – "Journey of a Thousand Miles" – one shot - posted
2000 – August – "The Battle of the Pitch" (main story line) – short story – posted
2000 – November – "The Adventures of Reckless Git and Danger Ponce" – short story – posted
2002 – Spring – "The Proposal" – short story, which now includes as its prologue "Best Laid Plans," formerly a one-shot – posted.
2002 – Early Summer – "The Tipping Point" – short story – posted.
2002 – Summer – "Children's Crusade"- novel – sequel to "Stop All The Clocks" – Posting now!
2003 - ? - "More Skill than Luck" (introductory story line) - one shot - posted
2003 – December – "The Gift"- one shot - not yet posted
2004 – May – "The Battle of the Pitch" (introductory story line) – short story – posted
Eldy
* Fortress Around Your Heart, words and music by Sting, 1985, Dream of the Blue Turtles. Both of the remaining songs mentioned, but not quoted, in this tale were written and performed by Sting: If You Love Somebody Set Them Free, 1985, Dream of the Blue Turtles and Brand New Day, from the album of the same name, 1999. The toys belong to JKR, she just lets us play with them. Hopefully, Sting feels the same way.
Happy DH2 release weekend everyone!