TITLE: "Potion, Potion, Who's Got the Potion?"
AUTHOR: Ellie Dee
EMAIL: ellie_dee@hotmail.com
RATING: PG13 (Comedic Violence)
PAIRING: None
SUMMARY: Takes place during Harry's fourth year at Hogwarts. Harry
and Hermione try to encourage Ron as he worries about a class.
SPOILERS: Consider anything through "The Prisoner of Azkaban," to be
fair game.
FEEDBACK: Is always appreciated.
DISCLAIMER: The world of Harry Potter is the intellectual property
of J. K. Rowling. Hermione, Ron and Harry just stopped by for a visit.
DISTRIBUTION: If you want it, you can have it. Just keep my name and
Email addy on it and please let me know where it's wandered off to.
DEDICATION: To my bestest bud and partner in crime; Dopey Dee Jr.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: DANGER, DANGER WILL ROBINSON. Character Death Warning.
"Potion, Potion, Who's Got the Potion?"
By Ellie Dee
"Professor Snape hates me," moaned Ron Weasley.
"Ron, you're overreacting," said Harry Potter from across the table.
"Professor Snape hates everyone."
Looking up from her broiled tomatoes, Hermione Granger added, "You
know it's true Ron. He just hates Harry more than anyone else."
"Thank you."
"You're quite welcome Harry," said the young witch with a smile.
The three young friends were having breakfast in the small dining room
just off the main dining hall. It was the Christmas holidays and
Filch, the Hogwarts Caretaker, could be heard next door supervising
some long needed repairs.
"Well that'll be a real comfort when I have to repeat my fourth year.
Mum is going to kill me. I just know I messed up that potion. "
"No you didn't," Hermione added. "You followed every step in the book
and I was there to double check you. The potion will work."
Trying to distract his friend, Harry began asking Ron about his favorite
Quidditch team, the Chudley Cannons. This seemed to pick up Ron's spirits
and for the next several minutes he regaled them with highlights of the
game that won the Cannons the last World Cup.
This led Ron, Hermione and Harry into a very animated discussion over the
tactics the Gryffindor team was using that year.
While they were talking, Draco Malfoy entered the dining room. His cronies
Crab and Goyle were home for the holidays, so he had no one to sit with.
Looking around the room Draco spied the three Gryffindors sitting nearby.
For a moment a look of displeasure crossed his face. Then, a sick, evil
grin began to form as he thought how he could torment his fellow classmates.
Making up his mind, Draco walked over to their table.
Suddenly, all three became silent as the blond Slytherin sat down next to Ron.
"Morning Weasley," he sneered.
Rolling his eyes back in his head, Ron silently groaned and went back to his
boiled eggs and toast.
For the next several minutes the three Gryffindors suffered in silence as
Draco laddled food onto his plate and began telling them of the plans the
Slytherin Quidditch team had for the upcoming year and how his father was
going to help.
As Draco began to eat, Ron poured himself a mug of tea from the old tea pot
in the center of the table.
Looking up from his plate, Draco took a sniff.
"Is that Almond Dove tea," he asked casually.
Not thinking, Ron replied simply, "Yeah, but this is the last cup."
Smiling, Draco quickly reached out and snatched up Ron's mug.
"Thanks, don't mind if I do."
"That was Ron's," exclaimed Hermione as Draco mearly sat across from her
drinking the sweet nutty beverage.
"Not any more," said Draco as he set the cup down and picked up his fork.
He began to attack his breakfast when suddenly he started to cough. Soon
Draco was doubled over.
From where they sat the others could see Draco's face as it became a darker
and darker red. His cough was taking on a harsh, dry raspy sound.
With a final cough, the young Slytherin's eyes took on a pale yellow cast.
His skin had become a deep, dark purple and his tongue was a sickening
shade of green as he fell face first into his plate.
Reaching across the table, Harry ran his fingers along Draco's neck.
After several seconds the dark-haired young wizard looked up.
"He's dead."
Swallowing her mouthful of tea, Hermione looked at her red-haired friend
and said, "I TOLD you, you made that potion properly."
Around the piece of toast he was chewing Ron could be heard to reply with
a hushed, "Wicked!"
THE END. ;D
AUTHOR: Ellie Dee
EMAIL: ellie_dee@hotmail.com
RATING: PG13 (Comedic Violence)
PAIRING: None
SUMMARY: Takes place during Harry's fourth year at Hogwarts. Harry
and Hermione try to encourage Ron as he worries about a class.
SPOILERS: Consider anything through "The Prisoner of Azkaban," to be
fair game.
FEEDBACK: Is always appreciated.
DISCLAIMER: The world of Harry Potter is the intellectual property
of J. K. Rowling. Hermione, Ron and Harry just stopped by for a visit.
DISTRIBUTION: If you want it, you can have it. Just keep my name and
Email addy on it and please let me know where it's wandered off to.
DEDICATION: To my bestest bud and partner in crime; Dopey Dee Jr.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: DANGER, DANGER WILL ROBINSON. Character Death Warning.
"Potion, Potion, Who's Got the Potion?"
By Ellie Dee
"Professor Snape hates me," moaned Ron Weasley.
"Ron, you're overreacting," said Harry Potter from across the table.
"Professor Snape hates everyone."
Looking up from her broiled tomatoes, Hermione Granger added, "You
know it's true Ron. He just hates Harry more than anyone else."
"Thank you."
"You're quite welcome Harry," said the young witch with a smile.
The three young friends were having breakfast in the small dining room
just off the main dining hall. It was the Christmas holidays and
Filch, the Hogwarts Caretaker, could be heard next door supervising
some long needed repairs.
"Well that'll be a real comfort when I have to repeat my fourth year.
Mum is going to kill me. I just know I messed up that potion. "
"No you didn't," Hermione added. "You followed every step in the book
and I was there to double check you. The potion will work."
Trying to distract his friend, Harry began asking Ron about his favorite
Quidditch team, the Chudley Cannons. This seemed to pick up Ron's spirits
and for the next several minutes he regaled them with highlights of the
game that won the Cannons the last World Cup.
This led Ron, Hermione and Harry into a very animated discussion over the
tactics the Gryffindor team was using that year.
While they were talking, Draco Malfoy entered the dining room. His cronies
Crab and Goyle were home for the holidays, so he had no one to sit with.
Looking around the room Draco spied the three Gryffindors sitting nearby.
For a moment a look of displeasure crossed his face. Then, a sick, evil
grin began to form as he thought how he could torment his fellow classmates.
Making up his mind, Draco walked over to their table.
Suddenly, all three became silent as the blond Slytherin sat down next to Ron.
"Morning Weasley," he sneered.
Rolling his eyes back in his head, Ron silently groaned and went back to his
boiled eggs and toast.
For the next several minutes the three Gryffindors suffered in silence as
Draco laddled food onto his plate and began telling them of the plans the
Slytherin Quidditch team had for the upcoming year and how his father was
going to help.
As Draco began to eat, Ron poured himself a mug of tea from the old tea pot
in the center of the table.
Looking up from his plate, Draco took a sniff.
"Is that Almond Dove tea," he asked casually.
Not thinking, Ron replied simply, "Yeah, but this is the last cup."
Smiling, Draco quickly reached out and snatched up Ron's mug.
"Thanks, don't mind if I do."
"That was Ron's," exclaimed Hermione as Draco mearly sat across from her
drinking the sweet nutty beverage.
"Not any more," said Draco as he set the cup down and picked up his fork.
He began to attack his breakfast when suddenly he started to cough. Soon
Draco was doubled over.
From where they sat the others could see Draco's face as it became a darker
and darker red. His cough was taking on a harsh, dry raspy sound.
With a final cough, the young Slytherin's eyes took on a pale yellow cast.
His skin had become a deep, dark purple and his tongue was a sickening
shade of green as he fell face first into his plate.
Reaching across the table, Harry ran his fingers along Draco's neck.
After several seconds the dark-haired young wizard looked up.
"He's dead."
Swallowing her mouthful of tea, Hermione looked at her red-haired friend
and said, "I TOLD you, you made that potion properly."
Around the piece of toast he was chewing Ron could be heard to reply with
a hushed, "Wicked!"
THE END. ;D