Player 1: Adenei6, Hufflepuff, Transfiguration
Player 2: KeepSmiling1, Ravenclaw, Charms
Written for the Inter-house Bonus Round
Prompts: [Location] Bathroom/Toilet, [Thought] He'd never see it coming.
Word Count: 2,694 (Google Docs)
A/N: Bathroom hijinx and humor abound. If that's not your thing, turn around. Do not eat or drink while partaking in this story.
Just Desserts
The Weasley family sat around the large kitchen table on a bright and sunny July morning at the Burrow. Fred had been surprised to see his father at the head of the table when he and his brother came down the stairs just moments ago. It was a rare occurrence for their father to be joining them for the first meal of the day, as he was typically already off to the Ministry.
Fred faked a scowl as George beat him to the serving spoon to dole eggs onto his plate before taking some bacon and toast. The twins switched serving dishes to finish loading up before tucking in.
"Can't wait to see what chores Mum wants to throw at us today," George muttered to his brother amidst the clanking of silverware on plates and quiet chatter around the table.
"Whatever it is, hopefully they'll be quick. We've got prototypes to make!" Fred agreed in a hushed whisper.
"Oi, what are you looking at?" George asked Ron, noticing he was eyeing the twins and their private conversation with interest.
Before Ron could answer, the owl post arrived. Hermes and Errol both flew in with a letter or two, which was expected. But then, a third owl came carrying a fancy looking envelope that caught the eyes of all the Weasley members.
"What's this?" their father asked as he untied the envelope from the screech owl's leg.
He advised Percy to give the owl a few treats before turning to open the letter. The family waited with bated breath as Arthur carefully unfolded the parchment, his eyes scanning the page. After much anticipation, his eyes grew wide.
"Merlin's beard! Molly, we've won the annual Daily Prophet Draw!" Arthur exclaimed as he shoved the parchment into his wife's hands.
"We what? But Arthur, I thought you weren't putting in for that this year! We don't have the—oh, my! 700 galleons?" Their mum appeared to be in shock.
The twins looked at each other and then at their siblings. Equal measures of surprise matched all of their faces. They never won anything!
"I can't believe it!" Mrs. Weasley said in a hushed voice. "We could visit Bill in Egypt and take a family vacation with the winnings!" She read over the letter carefully as the shock subsided. "They're even hosting a presentation dinner at the Ministry on Friday!"
"Yes, yes, now that you mention it, I remember Robert Alderton saying something about that when he won a few years back. All of the major editors and contributors will be in attendance." Fred noticed his dad's glee quickly fade to a scowl.
"What's wrong, Dad?" Fred asked.
"That means Lucius will be there, no doubt flaunting his money and influence. I'll never understand…" Their Dad muttered his thoughts mostly to himself. "If he's there on Friday, I'm not sure I'll be able to—"
"Arthur," their mum warned. The twins knew their parents did not discuss certain topics in their presence.
"Sorry, sorry. I'd best be off to work. I'll confirm that there will be seven of us in attendance for the dinner!" Fred watched as his dad stood up and bustled out the door with a spring in his step.
The twins shared a look, and hastily finished their meal before escaping back to their bedroom.
"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" George asked Fred as he shut the door behind him.
"Use the dinner to destroy Lucius Malfoy for what he did to our sister?" Fred supplied.
"It's almost like we're twins or something," George laughed mischievously. "Now, what can we do?"
The twins put their heads together to come up with a plan that would mortify Lucius Malfoy in the worst way. What he'd done to Ginny—planting that horrid diary in her things so that Tom Riddle could possess her—was beyond evil. What kind of sick wizard would prey on an innocent little girl? Lucius Malfoy deserved whatever comeuppance Fred and George could create.
That summer, the twins had been in the preliminary planning stages of creating 'snacks' that would cause the consumer some form of uncomfortable bodily function. Naturally, that was where their minds headed first. What better way to acquire their first test subject?
"I don't think the puking pastilles or nosebleed nougats will be ready in time," George said.
"True, plus, we want him to be stuck in the bathroom for the main event. We need something that's going to make him, er, go," Fred agreed. He thought about it for a few more moments when the idea hit him. "Think Mum still has some of that magnesium supplement potion in her stores?"
Without answering, George got up and left the room, only to return a few moments later with a small potion bottle.
"Brilliant! Now, what flavor would he go for?" Fred thought out loud.
George tapped his chin, and Fred saw a realization cross his face. "I heard Draco droning on about only eating the 'finest' of chocolate at the Christmas feast last year!"
"Hm, you don't suppose that came from his father, do you?" Fred said in a haughty voice. "Let's get to it, then, shall we?"
"Why do I have the feeling that we'll be spending a lot of time on the toilet this week while we work out a new product?" George joked.
"Won't be the last time, I'm sure," Fred grinned as they put their heads together to create their newest product: the Diarrhea Dib Dab.
It took three days, and an exorbitant amount of time spent in the bathroom, but the twins had pulled off the right formula to force Lucius Malfoy to the loo for at least an hour. Their plan was intricate, involving sneaking into their mum's kitchen nightly. But they were confident they'd pull it off before the event began.
Once consumed, it would only take five minutes for the Dib Dab to cause Malfoy's stomach to start churning, forcing a quick escape to the bathroom, which would subsequently make him miss the presentation portion of the evening.
He'd never see it coming, Fred thought with satisfaction as he replayed the plan through in his head for the hundredth time.
It was the night of the presentation dinner. As their mum tutted about ensuring everyone was dressed their best, Fred and George made sure they had everything in hand for their most excellent revenge against the man who was responsible for traumatizing their sister. Even now, they could tell that Gin-Gin was more than slightly uncomfortable at the idea of going to such a big event, something that made the twins' blood boil.
"Oi, Ron." George nudged his younger brother while Fred went after Percy. "Keep an eye on Ginny, would you?"
Predictably, Ron was clueless and had to have it pointed out to him just why their little sister might be uncomfortable at an event where Lucius would be a key speaker. Thankfully, Fred seemed to have had better luck with Percy, who hooked arms with Ron and pulled him towards their sister.
"All good with Perce?" George questioned nonetheless when Fred rejoined him in front of the Floo.
"Yeah, didn't even lecture me about us not doing anything stupid. Percy just confirmed that we weren't planning on getting caught."
Running his hands through the supplies hidden in his expanded pockets, George just grinned.
When they got to the banquet hall where the dinner was to take place, the twins begged off, citing the need to use the loo. They needed to use the loo alright….
Splitting up, they went to every men's toilet on the floor and put up their specially-made signs on the doors: to the average Tom, Dick, or Harry, the signs would be invisible. Blond idiots who preyed on little girls, however, would see DO NOT ENTER - SPELL DAMAGE INSIDE. Finally, they met up at the furthest loo from the banquet hall and entered, leaving the door unmarked.
As Fred set off some Flooded Bathrooms (a truly devious prank item that had been inspired by Moaning Myrtle's bathroom) to make Lucius' bathroom experience even more horrible, George got out their specially-made Invisa-Ink and started writing on the walls and mirrors of the previously beautiful loo.
"Oi, George! Reckon people'd pay to set off swamps where Filch just finished cleaning?"
"There's an idea, Fred. Making an ecosystem oughta be a right challenge, too. Might keep us busy for a bit."
A knock on the door interrupted their fun, but they'd mostly finished setting everything up anyway.
"Boys, is everything okay? The dinner's due to begin soon," their mum called.
"Coming right out, Mum!"
Walking back in, their eyes zeroed in on their target. Lucius had arrived.
Lucius sneered in distaste. Really, these events were so vexing. Regardless, it was important to ensure the masses were aware of the… generosity of the Malfoy house. It was a shame that Weasley won the draw; at least simpletons like Alderton acknowledged their place in the world.
As the main course was swapped for the paltry dessert options that tended to appease the masses, Lucius began to prepare for his speech. He ought to be able to throw in a few barbed comments here or there to get Arthur's hackles up.
Suddenly, a delicious smell wafted about his nose.
On the table, right in front of Lucius' plate, a magnificent, three-layer cake appeared, black as night among the rest of the desserts. Its tag decreed it, "Made from Pure Nacional cacao". Could it be? Pure Nacional cacao was practically extinct! How did the fools preparing this event get ahold of it?
Lucius was not surprised in the least to see the plebeians ignore the masterpiece available to them, and after carefully cutting off a large slice for himself, he signaled to a waiter that the remainder ought to be taken off the table and boxed up for him to take home.
From the first bite, Lucius was in love. The cake had a certain bite to it unlike any he'd ever before sampled, and he was glad that he'd gotten a larger slice than his norm to eat before his speech.
Speaking of speech, Barnabas Cuffe, the owner of the Daily Prophet, had just taken a stand at the podium. Lucius figured he had a good thirty minutes before Cuffe concluded and a good thing too, as his stomach rumbled uncomfortably.
Discreetly leaving the table, the aristocrat meandered away in search of a loo. It wouldn't do to be seen making haste, after all.
By the fourth Spell Damage sign, Lucius' interests in maintaining his public persona had eroded somewhat. Just as he was contemplating the merits of breaking through the wards keeping men out of the women's toilets, a janitor came by who thankfully knew where he could find a working loo, a good ten-minute jog away.
Of course, the place was disgusting, and in any other circumstance, Lucius would not deign to even step into such a mess with ankle-high liquid and unidentifiable somethings floating about, but this was a true emergency.
Sweet relief met the man as he sunk down on the seat, and an explosion—the likes of which he'd never before experienced—immediately rippled through his system. As the first wave calmed, Lucius noticed crude drawings suddenly appearing on the walls surrounding him, all focused on the subject of shit. Lucius could almost appreciate the ingenuity needed to create such situation-specific messages, were he not the victim of such a prank.
At least he was alone, and no one needed to see this indignity.
The door opened and closed, and Lucius quickly cast a Notice-Me-Not charm.
One of the faucets turned on. The sound of hands being washed could be heard. Then silence. Lucius could almost believe he was alone again but for the door that remained firmly shut.
Finally, a deep voice spoke out.
"The Ministry sure has gone downhill these days."
"At least they put up signs warning people to cast Impervius on their shoes and trousers. It could be worse, mate." A second voice joined in.
Lucius looked down at his soggy robes as his feet shivered from the cool, murky water. Had he been in such dire straits that he didn't notice a sign warning about the substandard nature of the bathroom?
The voices spoke up again. "That's not the real problem, though, mate. I want to know who's to blame for the stench in here. It smells worse than a Muggle sewer. You'd think they'd at least be considerate enough to Evanesco their shite if the spells on the loos aren't working properly."
The impudence! Lucius, having forgotten that his presence was undetectable due to his Notice-Me-Not spell, was quite ready to get up and show the two upstarts a thing or two.
Grabbing the roll of toilet paper, he got ready to leave.
Only the paper disintegrated just as he most needed it. Peering at the brown on his hand in horror, Lucius realized that whoever had written the messages had also transfigured the toilet paper. Speaking of the messages…
Where before each of the drawings and rude statements had been blessedly random, allowing Lucius to hold to the belief that this was just a string of horribly bad luck, now they took a more personal turn.
Snakes like Lucy deserve the sewers.
Poor Lucy, so poor he can't afford paper to wipe his arse.
So disgusting, even a mum couldn't love him.
On and on went the writing on the wall.
In frustration, Lucius tried to get a hold of his wand, desperate to wipe the words away. Poo-covered hands are not known for having the best of grips, however, and Lucius could only watch helplessly as his wand fell into the flooded waters on the floor and moved out of reach.
His howl of anger broke through the Notice-Me-Not charm and brought him to the attention of the other two occupants.
"Oh, Lucy! Looking for something?" They mocked as a new message wrote itself on the stall door right in front of him, their voices changing ever so slightly until he could place it.
You messed with the wrong family.
"Dear me, brother o' mine, it appears I've found a wand. I wonder who it belongs to?" said one.
"Give that back, or I'll—"
"—or you'll what? Tattle on us? Tell the world that you met your match against some fifteen-year-olds who haven't even taken their OWLs yet? What motive could we possibly have to target you, Lucy? We're well-known for pranking, but surely it isn't our fault that you happened to trigger our magic."
"You forget, brother. Every sign of our hand in this will be gone within the hour. If Lucy truly wants to put up some ridiculous claims against our persons, he'd have to explain what our motive could possibly be. Do you want to tell the world of how you went after a little girl, Lucy? We'd support you, you know. We'll be your honor guard straight to Azkaban for what you did."
Lucius purpled in rage. "You can't prove anything!"
"True, true. But we still know what you did. I'd be careful where I step, if I were you, Malfoy. Our mum taught us all we know about the kitchen, and we Weasleys always serve just desserts, with a sprinkle of 'extra flavor' on top."
An unholy roar escaped Lucius at the gall of these children. Unfortunately, his exertions reminded his gut of its prior occupations, and an ominous gurgle resounded as well.
"Lucy, Lucy, Lucy. You must learn to control your temper. It wouldn't do for you to chase away the only people who know where you are, the ones with access to… toilet paper."
"Eh, leave him. I'm sure such an elite member of society can figure his way out of this mess with his reputation intact," contradicted the other. The door shut resolutely after them.
Hours later, Barnabas Cuffe found Lucius in a bathroom with a Do Not Enter sign; he was sure a great story surrounded why the man left before his speech, but Lucius could not be convinced to say a word.