Harry, Hermione, and Ron were all sitting around a table working on a particularly nasty Transfiguration essay. Well, it was difficult for Hermione. Ron and Harry were starting to think it was down right impossible to finish. Whenever they asked Hermione if they could look at what she'd written, she would just roll her eyes, shaking her head.
It was very dull work. Who really cared about the exact and correct method for turning a throw pillow into a cat anyway? Harry surely didn't. Hermione was just about to criticize the boys' work ethic when someone cut her off.
"Hello everyone! I'm Marissa Downing, Gryffindor sixth year. I'm here to tell you about Fred and George Weasley's recently perfected Skiving Snackbox. Fred has asked me to give this little advertisement on the behalf of him and his twin's departure; and if you don't remember the Portable Swamp, then go ask some gossiping second years." Hermione groaned as Harry and Ron exchanged grins, turning to listen like everyone else. Marissa was standing on top of a table, a Snackbox at her feet. Her long wavy brown hair was brushed aside as she continued her mantra, picking up the Snackbox as she went.
"First off, on the top layer are the Puking Pastilles, on the left we have Fever Fudge, and to the right are the Nosebleed Nougat, and finally, on the bottom, are the Fainting Fancies," she told the room, gesturing to each side as she named it.
"Now you must be asking, 'what do they do?' Well if you haven't seen the twins and Lee vomiting horrifically into a bucket, let me tell you: The Skiving Snackbox contains a range of sweets that'll make you ill, but not seriously ill. Only ill enough to get you out of class, so you can enjoy the leisure activity of your choice," Marissa announced, pivoting on her heel so she could see everyone in the room.
"I told them that they can't sell this stuff to people," Hermione hissed under her breath.
"Let it go, Hermione," Ron told her, exasperated. "It isn't that bad. Just prank stuff."
"They were testing it on first years!" she argued. Harry rolled his eyes.
"We know," they stated dryly, still listening to Marissa.
"What you do is simple. For the Puking Pastille, you eat the orange chew," she explained, holding up an orange candy; "vomit, and as they haul you off to the Hospital Wing, you swallow the purple end," she continued, putting back the orange candy to replace it with a purple one. "Then you simply cease puking. Clever, eh?" Marissa gave the room a winning smile.
"Now we are the source of 'Umbridge-itis' and you have to be in on that. I mean, come on, Peeves is helping out! We want to get rid of the old bat, don't we? If Peeves can cause enough mayhem for both Flich and Umbridge, then I'd say it is our duty as Hogwarts students to help abolish these Ministry degrees and bring back our headmaster!" she shouted for everyone, even those up in their dormitories, to hear. The crowd roared and cheered, egging her on.
Harry and Ron heard Hermione mumble something behind them. They saw Marissa's eyes widen. It took them a second to realize she was looking right at them. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry could see Hermione getting up, bringing her wand out. She didn't look happy.
"Bloody hell, here comes Hermione," Marissa muttered, hurriedly packing the Snackbox up. "Buy a Skiving Snackbox! Join the rebellion!" she yelled as she jumped off the table. "Weasley Wizard Wheezes, Number 93 Diagon Alley! Order a box today!"
Hermione raised her wand, looking at Marissa furiously. Marissa dodged the jinx Hermione shot at her. She ran to the portrait hole, pushing it open, and jumping out, beaming all the while.
"Hermione," Ron groaned as she shot another curse after Marissa. "I thought you said that if they weren't dangerous, they could sell them."
"I guess Hermione just snapped," Harry replied, watching Marissa's flight.
"Guess so." They both gloomily returned to their essays.