Sorry I've been off the radar for a while, guys, but October and August are not my months. Seriously (do I really need to type the pun...you know it...). XD Anywho, this has been submitted to a contest on DA, so keep your fingers crossed (or pointed at me; I'd understand). Please review, for it would make me very happy! Cheers!
Disclaimer: Nien. Das is verboten. I have bad German spelling, not HP
The Candy-Corn Catastrophe
October 31, 1999
There was a blustering wind that night. It had stolen hats off unsuspecting trick-or-treaters as they made their rounds in the sleepy village of Ottery St. Catchpole. Little toddlers wrapped in bedsheets, exclaiming joyfully over their share of goods, kicked up the last remnants of decaying, sunset-coloured leaves. Parents chatted as they loosely followed their offspring from neighborhood to neighborhood as their young ones, still too young to participate, wailed and begged to be let to join. All was well.
Meanwhile, from the inside of one of the more peculiar houses, Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived Yet Again, smiled sadly as he watched a couple, a man with unruly black hair and a woman with a mane of red, run about the block after their toddler. Harry felt a pang of envy for the little devil (literally; he was dressed as that) who had his family with him. Harry felt this envy grow into a metaphorical, cliched monster as he watched until he shook himself; appalled at his ungenerous thoughts. Ginny came up next to him, causing him to jump, and put a mollifying hand on his shoulder. He looked up shyly into her eyes, as though he was a child caught with its hand in the cookie jar. Ginny took his hand and looked out the window without a sound. She most likely thought nothing needed to be said. Then again, he thought, holding her hand back, maybe nothing did need to be said.
However many ideas Harry and Ginny had about a quiet evening of comfort, Mrs. Weasley had no such notion about spending her time calm, collected, or involved in anything that did not involve furious preparations for the gathering to be held at the Burrow that very night. Instead of lazing by the fire, like Ron and Hermione, or having therapy sessions in the window sill, like Harry and Ginny, she bustled about while flicking her wand at orange-and-black streamers, bowls with popcorn balls, and jars of candy-corn alike. She showed no mercy towards the special Halloween cookies she baked, either, as she was not generally regarded as a merciful person when it came to party planning. Suddenly, in the midst of all her efforts, the door to the sitting room was thrown open, and a figure, larger this time than the toddlers running about the town, wrapped in a bed-sheet let out a cry that instilled pure terror into the hearts of all before it.
"Boo!" cried Mr. Weasley, then after a moment of silence following his exclamation, discarded his costume and looked hopefully, indeed, even pleadingly, into the faces before him.
"How was it?" asked Mr. Weasley, less sure of himself than a minute ago, "Do you think I finally got it this time, Harry?"
After the initial shock, Harry shook himself and responded in the most fervent positive he could manage.
"Yeah...you've gotten loads better, Mr. Weasley," Harry choked out. Ginny retained her sunny smile and ribbed him (to help Harry get rid of his respiratory trouble, of course). Ron and Hermione looked on in amusement, then returned to their whispered conversation by the fire. It seemed as thought they could not be stopped in their canoodling even by such a shocking event as seeing a "ghost."
Half and hour more passed, with Mrs. Weasley still bustling about, Mr. Weasley gauging reactions, and the happy couples preferring to remain isolated from the other occupants of the Burrow, when there came a detached knock on the door. Surprised, Mrs. Weasley ran to attend to the visitor, and demanded of no one in particular,
"Who on earth could that be? The party starts in an hour!"
Her question was quickly answered, not by the air of which she had asked it, but in the form on a figure on the doorstep.
"Am I late?" Luna asked, tilting her head to the side and looking in an oddly intuitive way at Mrs. Weasley. "I think I might've gotten the day wrong."
"You're not late, Luna dear, you're early."
"Oh," Luna said happily, stepping inside, "well that's alright, then. Can I help with anything?" She then proceeded to take the jar of candy-corn off the table and spirit it away towards the kitchen. Mrs. Weasley, who had not suspected this at all, cried out for her to wait and ran after the abstracted girl.
Then weather took a turn for the worse. Clouds began to obscure the waxing moon while leaves formed circular patterns close to the ground; showing the wind's patterns in their movements. Thunder was heard rumbling in the distance. The crowds of ghouls, ghosts, and goblins began to dwindle, for their parents were fearing both the time and weather that was approaching.
It was now quarter to nine; only fifteen minutes until the Weasley's Halloween party was scheduled to begin.
The fire crackled happily while destructing the very logs that fueled its life, and giving out heat for the benefit of others. It went on destroying its own roots until it rapidly changed from its usual cheery red to an iridescent green, casting eerie shadows into the room. Quickly following this, a man with strangely distorted features hopped out of the hearth and onto the rug, taking soot with him and depositing it on the carpet. He raised his head, and his features, though cast into shadow, now held a more earthly quality to them. Next, a woman around his same age strode in from the well-used fireplace with an infant straddled on her hip.
Mrs. Weasley stepped forward first, and nearly bowled the man over with a zealous hug, crying, "Bill! I'm so glad you could make it!" The man chuckled, though the chuckle had a certain wheezy quality to it, and ground out a grin to the other occupants of the room. The other occupants of the room had an easier, more amused smiled than the man did as they said their greetings.
"'Ello, Molly! Zis ees a wonderful evening, no?" Fleur asked after pecking a rather flustered Mrs. Weasley on both cheeks, then adjusting the burden on her hip. The burden wrinkled its nose and brow, then burrowed its head even more deeply into its mother's shoulder.
"Why, yes. Yes, I suppose it is." Mrs. Weasley muttered in a distracted way; she had seen Luna with the candy-corn jar yet again, "Can't stay and chat, though, I'm afraid. I still have to finish up preparations for the party. Lovely seeing you both, dear." And with that, Mrs. Weasley went on a mad dash after Luna and the jar, which she was absolutely determined to have back on its rightful table.
"Victoire ees so restless today!" Fleur exclaimed unaffectedly, shaking her head and rocking her child back and forth as to help ease its discomfort, "Eet ees a shame that Teddy will not be able to come. 'Ow is he, by ze by?" At this, Harry was drawn from his conversation near the window, and the conversation bloomed once more.
The next guest to arrive was actually in costume. He had apparated there, so when he knocked on the door and it was opened accordingly, he was greeted by the appropriate reaction.
"DEAR MERLIN, YOU'RE ALIVE!" Mrs. Weasley screamed while hugging the person furiously, having forgotten all about the now-trivial jar of candy corn. She looked as though she had seen a ghost, though in this case, it was most probably just a reincarnated old friend that had been dead for three years.
"Indeed I am! Thank you for remembering my previous state and the new one I've induced; it flatters me so much to know that people keep track of my health," came a slightly exaggerated version of Dumbledore's voice. It still made various occupants of the room hope (or in Ron's case, shout with joy that he was right, and now he had proof), no matter how unfounded. However, this new hope's fate was crushed when "Dumbledore" revealed himself at large to the room.
"Merlin, Ron! You've grown another inch! Will you ever stop growing?" cried "Dumbledore." Ron fell back into the cushions and threw an arm over his eyes dramatically, as to block out the mortification. All in all, it wasn't very effective, but it was worth a try, in his opinion.
"What?" asked George, his false beard (roughly the length of the great hall) coming off, "Is there something on my face?" Bill shook his head solemnly in response while Ron tried to keep a straight face and failed.
"Right, tell me what's wrong or there'll be no more free samples from the shop, Ickle Ronnikins," George said impatiently, prompting Ron to stop giggling like Luna confronted with Crumple-Horned Snorkacks (which, incidentally, was her costume for Halloween).
"Beard...falling...off...face," Ron giggled while attracting several strange looks from Hermione. Apparently she thought that seeing a grown wizard giggle was disconcerting, though Ron had no idea why.
George grabbed at his beard, and, seeing that it was almost completely removed from his face, he quickly scurried to the kitchen for some spellotape. When he returned, he saw that the sniggers, cackles, and giggles had not died down when he had left, but escalated, and this did not do much to boost his ego. Fortunately for all involved, his incipient rant was cut off by a sharp crack out in the yard. Everyone stood still for a moment, only disturbed by Luna running by, stopping, and wondering aloud why George was dressed as Dumbledore. Slowly, large footsteps began their trek towards the Burrow, eliciting fear from the entire Weasley clan (and adoptive family members). Everyone began to clump into a pack, though Luna obviously had missed the memo.
"Luna," George hissed, "what're you doing? You don't know who's out there! Luna? NO!" Luna opened the door and exited, leaving it open behind her and taking no notice of George's whispered warnings (as he was the only one to notice she was gone). Everyone watched, paralyzed in their positions, as Luna began walking towards the shrouded figure on the lawn. As the figure drew back its hood, making the suspense of it all nearly unbearable, Luna began to laugh uncontrollably.
"Why are you mocking me, muggle lover?" rasped the hooded figure, in a mix of Romanian and British accents. It was Charlie.
"Charlie boy," cried George, hopping out of the doorway he had been cowering in and stepping forward, "I knew it was you all the time! I was just showing no reaction all for your benefit, see." Luna giggled at this, her amusement still ebbing away slowly.
Through all of this, everyone had forgotten about the candy corn jar (yes, even Luna, who had left it sitting in the kitchen). This was a very bad idea, as this was no ordinary jar of candy corn. It had come from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes (although Mrs. Weasley didn't know), and was therefore suspect already, without even getting to the effects. See, this particular brand of candy corn had a nasty temper. Or, to be more precise, a nasty temper paired with a charm that made it pelt itself at anyone and everyone in a herd-like mass. In short, it was bleeding scary. So now as the said candy corn had wrestled itself out of the jar (because Luna had accidentally broken the clasp on the top) and was approaching the mass of Weasleys and their friends, no one noticed at all...except for when it hit.
"So how are things at the reserve, Ch-OW!" George stopped in the middle of his sentence and felt the back of his neck. There, embedded in his shoulder, was a singular piece of candy corn. His eyes widening in a sickly comical way, George realized the implications of this little, striped candy.
After several hours of blasting the candy corn out of the air, protecting little muggle children, and generally conducting a war against candy, the Weasley clan was back at the Burrow. People were strewn over couches (or in Harry and Ginny's case; each other), leaning against edifices, and generally trying to relax when a funny thing happened. The fire flared green once again, and a tall, ginger male stepped out. This one did not have facial scarring, but did have glasses that he was pushing up onto the bridge of his nose.
"Sorry I'm late, mum," Percy said, looking around and assessing the damage in shock, "Did I miss anything, perhaps?"
When his family look back on the brutal reprimand they gave him afterwards, they might feel some regret. Possibly.
Hehe...possibly. AHEM. Ignore me, please, I urge thee. And also REVIEW! ^^ Cheers!
-Miriflowers