Getting Away With Mischief
written by:
OneoftheWeasleys


Chapter One: Prologue


The calming shadows of darkness were slowly beginning to creep over the village of Ottery St. Catchpole as the warm summer's sun began to dip behind the large hills that surrounded the lush, green valley. Its many shops, ranging from a small bookstore to a very cluttered antique emporium, were all closed for the day as the people of the village had declared every Sunday a holiday that was to be spent with their families.

Its villagers willingly ventured out onto their front porches, each taking advantage of the cool breeze that was passing through and savoring the chance to speak to their fellow neighbors. Their children played happily out on the streets:kicking balls, playing a large game of tag, and chasing after the birds that happened to fly too low. In the not too far distance, on the grassy meadows that outlined the village, a group of young boys played a rough and dirty game of football next to a billowing willow tree. However, unknown to them, the lads were not alone.

A young girl, not a day older than eleven, hovered cautiously behind the large willow's branches while watching the boys yell and chase after the white ball that they kicked around. She had been there for hours, watching but not involving herself with the boys and their scrimmage. That's what she always did. Look but never play. The girl's mother had made her swear to never get involved with the village people. It was a drastic step to ensure the secrets of her family would not be revealed to the ignorant villagers.

'Good heavens, they bloody suck!' she thought snidely. She wanted to jump out from behind the tree that hid her presence and show the boys the meaning of football. Just because she didn't know every rule about the Muggle game, it did not mean that she couldn't show them a few of her own skills when it came to sports. She possessed a skill that none of them could ever imagine.

However, the girl decided that it was best to listen to her mother and she took a seat at the base of the trunk, her hands planted in the green grass as she continued to watch but not play in the small match.

Stephanie Leone could be described in a single word - tomboy. Her long brown hair was always up in a tight ponytail and her fingernails had never been painted, much to the dismay of her laced up mother. She loved getting her hands dirty, and found it a hassle to wear dresses or skirts because of the limited movement they enforced. She also hated jewelry with a passion, finding it a stupid gift to give or receive. It was a pure waste of money in her opinion. This was slightly problematic for her mother thought that jewelry was an essential part of life. Stephanie never enjoyed playing with dolls or makeup but was more interested in sports and rockets because she had grown up with two brothers.

A swoosh next to Stephanie's ear broke her reverie. Her heart must have skipped a beat when she realized that the sudden rush of air was from the ball that the boys had been playing with. She quickly stumbled towards the ball and stared at the motionless object deciding what she wanted to do, 'Well they know I'm here now, maybe they'll let me join in.' She decided to take a chance and retrieved the ball.

"Oi! Toss it here," a boy with shaggy blond hair called to her. The other boys quickly huddled around him, each curious to see who was fetching their ball. Stephanie emerged from behind the tree and stood in front of the boys, cradling their ball under one arm while shoving a piece of loose hair back behind her ear.

"Do you think I could play?" Stephanie asked, continuing to walk towards the group of boys. She stopped a few feet short of them as they began to laugh. It made her insides squirm to be mocked and if these boys knew her better, they would not have done it so obviously.

"Girls do not play football," sneered a blond boy, with pale skin and blue eyes as he snatched the ball from Stephanie's hands. 'Honestly…' she thought to herself. 'Can they be more subtle?!' A few of the boy's clapped him on the back for his remarkably 'original' girl jibe while the others ran back to their positions on the field.

Stephanie sighed and, as calm as she could, said, "I may be a girl but I can play football better than half of you. Now let me play!"

The blond boy sneered, "You're a Leone girl aren't you?" He didn't wait for a response but continued, "Isn't your mom the one with all the frills and bows? As though her daughter could ever play football." The other boys jeered in agreement.

In both anger and embarrassment at her family history as well as the attack on her ego, Stephanie reached for her back pocket and clasped her fingers around a newly polished, thin wooden stick. "Now you're going to get it," she mumbled, brandishing her wand in front of the boys.

An uproar of laughter from the young lads angered Stephanie more and the sneering blond boy, quickly yelled at her, "You're even crazier than what my mum said!"

"Yeah, we don't live in no fairyland loopy Leone!" another catcalled which was followed by more annoying laughter. The boys turned their backs on Stephanie, calling her names that dealt with her being crazy over their shoulders as they retreated.

"Crazy? I'll show you crazy," she muttered angrily, waving her wand in a large circle and bringing it down with a harsh slice.

"I hope you weren't thinking of using that." The man's voice made Stephanie jump slightly and stutter on the curse she intended to blast at the boys, making it shoot out sparks of blue and green that smelled of burnt hair. She turned around to find her father, his hands crossed over his chest and the edge of his lips curved into a slight smile as he stood hidden behind the blanket of branches and leaves.

Ralph Leone was a tall man, with a built figure and calloused hands from years of hard work. His head was bald and shiny in the bright sunlight and his blue eyes were as light as the sky above. Ralph was the best at both worlds when it came to repairing objects since he was a Muggle born, his specialty being automobiles and broomsticks. Stephanie admired his never-ending hard work, his constant helping of others and his uncanny ability to appear out of nowhere to intervene before one of his children, usually Stephanie, did something drastic. This was one of those moments. "I just bought that wand for you and you're already trying to hex people," he stated, his eyes glistening as if laughing affectionately at his daughter.

"They said girls couldn't play football! I just wanted to teach them a lesson for saying it, that's all," she replied, slightly guilty.

"You've been wanting a wand for as long as I can remember," said her father, taking the girl by the shoulder and leading her away from the tree and the troublesome boys, who had continued to play their game. "It surprises me that you're willing to risk it over a few boys that teased you." The girl smiled happily up at her father as he pulled her into a tight side hug.

"Maybe next time, I'll set a rocket on them," Stephanie mused with a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

"Now that's the girl I know," laughed her father, "that's my little girl." The two walked up some large hills before arriving at the Leone residence. Many vibrant green trees and rosy red bushes surrounded the beige, cottage-styled home with red trim. Small light fixtures that her father had placed to guide people at night outlined a brick path that led from the dirt road to the front porch. Stephanie's mother could not understand the need for the Muggle lights, since she was raised as a witch.

'A few fairies will do the trick and cost nothing," she had said when Ralph brought home the purchased lights from the local Muggle store. But Ralph just smiled and shook his head. He always enjoyed the work and look of the 'Muggle way'.

To the far left, her father's large garage was separated from the house and for good reason. Noises, ranging from bangs to booms, were constantly erupting from the building and the smell of smoldering metal always lingered in the air. The breeze that was passing through the village had made it's way towards the Leone's home, and it looked as if someone had thrown open the windows to welcome it in.

"Best get back inside before your mother finds out that you left," stated Ralph, giving his daughter a light pat on the back before retreating down a second path that led to his garage and the home of his repairing business. Stephanie slipped in through the front door and quietly made her way up to her bedroom on the second floor without letting her mother hear.

As she entered, Stephanie glanced to her left where her trunk remained unpacked next to her bed, with large books piled to one side with quills and inkbottles scattered around it. An alarm clock of her favorite Quidditch team, the Kenmare Kestrels, sat on the small nightstand that was positioned on the other side of the bed. Both large and small posters of her favorite musical bands from the sixties and seventies were plastered upon her walls. They ranged from The Rollin' Pebbles to The What and even though their greatest songs had hit number one long before she was born, she still loved them all the same.

She sulkily edged towards her trunk, the members of The Junebugs giving her thumbs up as she began to toss her school items carelessly into the open trunk. Ever so often, she stopped to sing along with a tune on the WWN to distract her mind from the endless chore.

At dusk, the doorbell rang and through Stephanie's half opened door, the sound of a people chatting could be heard from downstairs. A commercial began to play, 'Homfers, the little creatures that do everything for you. From cleaning your room to editing your papers, there is nothing a Homfer can't do.' Stephanie took the time during the commercials to take a break from her cleaning and headed downstairs for a glass of water. As Stephanie came closer to the kitchen, she paused to press her ear against the door and listen to the voices within.

"I most definitely agree, Molly," the voice of her mother, Carol, chirped. Carol was a medium sized woman with short hair that she colored red and bewitched to stay straight. Stephanie looked just like her mother but their personalities could not be more different. Carol always made sure her clothes were ironed well, her nails painted and trimmed, and jewelry was her favorite thing, well second to owning her antique shop in the local wizarding village, Diagon Alley.

Bustling could be heard as Carol rushed to the whistling teapot, and took it from the burner, pouring Molly and herself a cup of tea. After handing Molly her cup, Carol resumed her seat at the breakfast table and continued, "I'm having the same problems with Stephanie. All she ever wants to do is blow something up or," she paused for effect, "figure out another way to make Nicholas cry."

Stephanie laughed silently to herself at the last bit that her mother had said. Stephanie had tried many times, but failed miserably, to get Nicholas to be her accomplice in pranks that took place at home. But all that he cared about was a stupid video game system that his Muggle friends had bought for him on his eighth birthday. 'The boy clearly has no ambition,' Stephanie thought.

"Well what did we expect," said Molly after taking a sip of her tea, "We practically raised them to be best friends. And it didn't help when your brother decided to open that—that shop of his." Stephanie loved how rebellious her uncle was and she wanted to be just like him. The shop they spoke of was 'Gambol and Japes'. It was a joke shop in Diagon Alley.

During the summer, Stephanie stayed with her uncle and aunt above the shop and she loved every second of it. Between learning how to make easy rockets and finding ways to sneak some of the not-so-normal candy into the shopper's drinks as they walked by, there wasn't a memory she would ever forget. Every time she returned home, she would bring sacks filled to the brim with gadgets, rockets, and candies. She made sure she hid them in her secret room before her parents found out and took them away.

"I just hope Dumbledore can straighten them out a little," stated Carol. Stephanie decided she had eavesdropped enough, and continued into the kitchen, surprising both women with her sudden appearance.

"Hello Mrs. Weasley," grinned Stephanie. Mrs. Weasley returned her greeting with a smile.

Molly was a short, plump woman with shoulder length red hair and was the essence of a motherly figure. She knitted her own clothes, along with many sweaters for her seven children's, cleaned constantly, and was usually found over her kitchen stove cooking a new meal. But she loved it, as she told Stephanie's mother constantly when questioned by Carol if she wanted to get away from the kids for a few days.

"Hello dear," she replied, shifting in her chair to get a better look at Stephanie, "lovely day, isn't it?"

"Sort of," shrugged Stephanie, "I hate that summer is already over. But I guess Hogwarts'll be fun."

"Yes, it will be," Mrs. Weasley smiled, "I still wish I was there. Your mother and I used to spend almost every afternoon by the lake—er—studying of course." Stephanie highly doubted her mother ever studied. From the stories Stephanie had heard from her father, Carol was quite the social queen and usually spent most of her time hanging out with boys and her best friend, Molly Weasley. "You'll have fun," continued Mrs. Weasley, "Just make sure to stay out of trouble and you'll be fine."

"Speaking of trouble," said Stephanie, smirking slightly, "where are Fred and George?"

"At home, packing their trunks," she replied, taking another gulp of tea. Carol gave Stephanie a stern look and said, "What a coincidence, isn't that what you're supposed to be doing?"

"Almost done with it mum," Stephanie lied, beginning to retreat from the kitchen. She gave her mother a wink from the door, saying, "but you know me, such a procrastinator. Maybe I'll wait until the morning to finish." Stephanie quickly turned from the kitchen and ran up the staircase, knowing her mum would yell at her for the smart remarks she had made.

Stephanie was about to enter her bedroom when a loud thumping noise began to make its way towards her, coming closer and closer to where she stood. She glanced around the hall for any sign of what was causing the racket, but nothing was there. It took Stephanie a few minutes to realize that a harsh breathing was coming from over her shoulder. It made her laugh inwardly.

"If you want to scare me, you're going to have to be much quieter than that," teased Stephanie, turning around to face the source of the sharp intake of breath.

"I was being quiet," a voice hissed, "It's not fair that you have ears like a fox." With a tiny clink, a short boy with dark chocolate hair appeared before Stephanie, his big brown eyes gazing bitterly at his older sister. Nicholas was the baby of the family, the one that always got out of trouble, the one that was never yelled at, and the one that whined until he got what he wanted. "How are you so stealthy? You don't even use stupid bracelets," he stated, giving the bracelet he held a hard tap with his hand.

"Uh-oh," said Stephanie in mock fear, her hand covering her mouth, "you're going to be in trouble when mom finds out you used her bracelet."

"Give me a break," said Nick pleadingly, "an invisible bracelet is the best I can do to scare you."

"Then become invisible again and leave me alone," warned Stephanie, giving her brother a light push away from her. Nicholas stuck his tongue out before running back to his room a few doors down. When Stephanie finally entered her room, she was surprised to find two red haired boys by her open window, throwing a toy snitch back and forth to one another.

"What are you two doing here?" she asked happily, quickly closing the door behind her, "your mum told me that you both were at home, packing your trunks."

"We were. But that was so boring, so we decided to hitch a ride with some Muggle," Fred stated, yawning to emphasize his point. "An awfully nice bloke, too many nose hairs though."

Fred and George Weasley had been best friends with Stephanie since they were in diapers. Living not too far from each other, they were impossible to separate; wherever one was, the other two were not far behind. When Stephanie started staying with her uncle, Fred and George came along for the adventure. That is, once they finally convinced their mother they wouldn't do anything to embarrass her or their father. But it was impossible for them not to cause havoc when the three were together and alone, roaming the streets of Diagon alley.

They both had inherited their parents red hair and stocky figures, along with a few freckles that lined their nose and cheeks. Fred and George were identical down to the last wrinkle that lined the tips of their mouths. If Stephanie didn't know the two for so long, it would have been impossible for her to tell them apart.

"Can you believe we're leaving for Hogwarts tomorrow?" said Stephanie, jumping onto her bed and stuffing a pillow under her head. Fred tossed the toy snitch he was playing with onto a pile of broken gadgets, and took a seat at the foot of her bed next to her legs.

"Freedom is only a night away," George, said excitedly, as he began to dig through one of Stephanie's dresser drawers.

"Hey, I could have something really personal in there," Stephanie yelled playfully, "like a diary or—or a secret letter."

"Pshh, and when did you start hiding stuff from us," George answered back as he continued to go through the drawer, not even bothering to lift his head. Stephanie huffed lightly as she picked herself off her bed and walked towards her closet across the room.

"Did you get anything new?" asked Fred, as he jumped up and followed her.

"Obviously, did you even have to ask?" Stephanie replied, opening her closet door. George rushed quickly to the closet, leaving the drawer he had been sifting through open, as Stephanie began to push clothes out of her way, moving her body towards the center. Stephanie waited until George had finally tucked himself into the tight fit closet and closed the door behind him before speaking.

"Stand closer together," Stephanie whispered. The three moved in tighter and towards the center of the closet. Stephanie looked up at the ceiling and muttered, "amazingly clean." The ceiling above them clicked and began to move apart leaving a giant gap where the ceiling once was. The little piece of flooring they were standing on slowly broke from the rest of the floor and rose quickly into the gap above them. The platform fitted perfectly inside of the open ceiling, leaving the three in complete darkness.

"Let there be light," Fred yelled, nudging Stephanie in the ribs to make her laugh along.

"Must you say that every bloody time we are left in the dark?" Stephanie asked as she blindly searched for a Muggle object, a flashlight if she could remember the name correctly.

"Yes I do," said Fred as a light began to shine in his face, "but if you could be so kind, I would really appreciate not going blind just yet." Stephanie placed the flashlight on a string that hung from the ceiling, allowing the hidden room to be filled with light. The room was the size of a small bedroom, and included a large sofa, a little table, and shelves that lined the entire room. On the shelves, crates separated many items into categories such as 'small rockets', 'large rockets', 'candy that affects the body', 'candy with funny tastes', 'small things that blow up', 'large things that blow up', and 'entertainment'. George decided to take a seat on the sofa while Fred began to go though one of the boxes labeled 'entertainment', placing anything he found interesting to the side. Stephanie found a few more flashlights and scattered them around the room for more light.

"It amazes me that your parents haven't found this room yet," George mentioned to Stephanie from across the room.

"Well when my uncle built it, he knew that my parents would never find my closet the least bit amazing or clean," Stephanie laughed. A few years back, Stephanie had told her uncle that her parents were taking away everything he was giving her from his joke shop. He was so appalled by what she had told him, that he decided to build her a hidden room above her bedroom to ensure everything he gave her would be kept safe.

"Now where did I put it?" Stephanie said to herself. She began to rummage through a large pile of objects in the far corner of the room, throwing items that had no importance to her at the moment over her head.

"What the hell is this?" George asked, holding up a flat, rubber item that Stephanie had thrown. Stephanie turned, looking for a moment at it, before continuing her search.

"It's called a whoopee cushion," she replied, "you fill it up with air and it makes a fart noise when someone sits on it."

"Are these things the best that a Muggle can do," Fred tutted, grabbing the whoopee cushion from George and looking at it intently, "They need more help than I thought."

"Ahh, here it is," Stephanie exclaimed as she stood up again, clutching a long, thin object in her small hands.

"No way," George smirked, "you've got an 'eye of the beholder'."

"Uncle just gave it to me, right before I left his shop to come back home," Stephanie said proudly. She handed the rocket over to George, who examined every detail before handing it off to Fred. It was a dark maroon color, with golden stripes that lined a trail from its nose to the fins. In black letters, Eye of the Beholder was painted on its side; the ink twinkled as light cascaded upon it.

"These things are amazing," Fred said in awe, "say a name before it takes off and WHAM—off it goes, chasing after that person until it runs out of juice." Fred looked up at Stephanie and continued, "and why haven't you used it yet?"

"Thought I'd save it for someone special," Stephanie replied. She gave a quizzical look before saying, "does Hogwarts check your bags before you go in?"

"Doubt it, Dumbledore is too trusting to have trunks searched," George said. Fred stood up and handed the rocket back to Stephanie, "bring it with you, we're bound to find one person that'll drive us bonkers."

"FRED—GEORGE, I know you two are here," Mrs. Weasley screamed from below them, "best hurry out or you'll be walking home."

"Our mums must have had a nice talk," George whispered as the three tiptoed toward the moving platform, "I thought mum would kill us if she found out we were here."

"Maybe she's not comfortable with the whole killing in front of my mum concept—yet," Stephanie replied. She grabbed a small rocket from a basket by the platform before she muttered the password and the three arrived back in Stephanie's tightly packed closet. George peeked through a small crack in the door, ensuring no one was around, and then proceeded into Stephanie's bedroom.

"What are you going to do with that?" George asked curiously when he noticed the rocket in Stephanie's hand.

"Oh," smirked Stephanie, tossing the rocket back and forth between her hands, "A few of the village boys need to be taught a lesson."

"And what lesson are you going to teach them?" asked Fred, eying her suspiciously.

"Not to mess with 'the crazy Leone girl'," replied Stephanie.

"There you two are," Mr. Weasley said arriving in Stephanie's doorway with Ralph behind him. Stephanie quickly shoved the rocket under her quilt but winced when she heard a snap as one of the fins parted with the body. "Thought I'd find you in here," Mr. Weasley continued, "Your mother says it's time for us to leave, there's a lot that needs to be done before tomorrow."

"See you later, Steph," Fred and George said in unison as they exited her room, pausing at her door to show their remorse over the now useless rocket. As they arrived downstairs, Mrs. Weasley could be heard nagging loudly and harshly; Mr. Weasley laughed as he turned to Ralph.

"So, you'll be over tomorrow to look at that Ford?" he asked.

"Yep, I'll be there," Ralph assured. Mr. Weasley gave Stephanie a small pat on the back before leaving the Leone house with Mrs. Weasley and the twins. Ralph glanced around Stephanie's room, adding before he left, "Best have your room clean before you go to bed."

"I will dad," Stephanie replied as she picked up where she left off by shoving more books into her Hogwarts trunk and tossing the broken rocket from under her quilt back into her closet. As Stephanie fell asleep that night, she began to think of Hogwarts. Was she ready for a school that would test her magical abilities? A horror struck her at the thought of being a squib. She had loved the Muggle School her parents had put her in and had made quite a few friends in her classes. But she didn't want to be a Muggle; she wanted to be a witch. 'I'll fight the entire school to become a witch. I'll hex them into smithereens.' She paused as her head began to ache. 'I have to be a witch,' was her last thought before drifting off into a peaceful sleep that would be over too soon, when her father would wake her for her first day at Hogwarts.