Disclaimer: I own Sean Biggerstaff, Jason Isaacs, and Alan Rickman, but
sadly, not the Harry Potter universe. That belongs to J.K.R.
************************
The week dragged on as Harry impatiently awaited his departure from #4 Privet Drive. When Monday finally arrived, Harry packed his school things, tucked Hedwig snugly into her cage, and sat on the porch, eagerly anticipating the Weasleys' visit. He had already told his aunt and uncle that he would be leaving early; he thought they would be mad, but they merely grunted in acceptance. He supposed the memory of the All-England Best-Kept Suburban Lawn Competition was still fresh in their minds.
It was almost noon, and the sun was burning the back of Harry's neck. Still, better to be outside with the sweltering sun than inside with the drizzly (make that grizzly) Dursleys, Harry thought.
As the sun drifted slowly to the west, Harry got up and took a stroll around the neighborhood. In the distance, he could hear the pained cries of someone, probably a victim of Dudley's gang. Dudley, after retiring from his boxing career with three junior wins, something that Uncle Vernon liked to talk about very loudly on the porch (so the neighbors could hear), had gone back to his other favorite pastime: bullying. Who was it this time? The Dawkins boy? The Crockett girl? The Evans kid?
At least he wasn't the one being picked on. Not that he didn't have enough to worry about. On the contrary, dealing with Sirius' death, a new internship, more specialized wizard training at Hogwarts, and one day having to kill (or be killed by) the most evil sorcerer of the age was plenty to handle, thank you very much. And mentally, Harry added another item to his list of worries: Ron.
Where was he?
Harry hadn't considered it before, but how was Ron going to pick him up? Surely not by Floo Powder - they'd learned their lesson in his fourth year. And not by broomsticks either; they'd attract far too much attention in Muggle England.
"Maybe another flying car?" Harry said stupidly, before coming to his senses. After all the trouble Mr. Weasley had gotten into with the Ministry due to his enchanted Ford Anglia, Harry suspected that would be the last way they would pick him up. The Knight Bus? Harry wouldn't mind seeing Stan Shunpike again; any familiar face, however pimply, would be good right now.
Suddenly, something happened that made Harry forget about all about Stan Shunpike's face. In fact, it pretty much made him forget about everything. His mind was miraculously clear, save for one, burning desire.
He needed to pee.
Badly.
Perhaps it was the three glasses of orange juice he had had for breakfast, or maybe the glass of water he had had an hour before - the details didn't matter, Harry *had* to go. Gritting his teeth, he rushed back to the house, pounced up the stairs, and immediately found himself in the Dursleys' (compulsively clean) bathroom.
"Thank Merlin," Harry muttered, undoing his pants.
But just as he was about to relieve himself, something odd appeared in the toilet. It started off as a shapeless blur, but then began to take form. Harry thought it was a trick of light, but peering closer, saw that it looked like a boy's head. Getting still nearer, he noticed the head had striking red hair.
It looked like Ron's head.
RON!?
"Ron, WHAT are you doing in my TOILET?" Harry screamed, jumping back.
"Oi, sorry Harry, it's just. . . Oi, mate, can you please put that away while I'm talking to you?" Ron blushed.
Harry turned even redder and zipped up his pants.
'Good thing I didn't have any of Aunt Petunia's chili for lunch,' Harry thought to himself mirthlessly. 'Although it would serve the nosy git right for lurking in my toilet to begin with.'
"Auditioning for Moaning Myrtle's job?" Harry asked instead.
"No, really, sorry, Harry," said Ron, and he looked it, "but the Ministry has been clamping down on Floo Powder use. Apparently the Department of Health at St. Mungo's was getting a lot of complaints about lung infections and other Muggle problems from all the soot and ash in the fireplaces. So the Ministry has started to make everyone use a replacement."
"Toilets?" Harry asked incredulously.
"Well, yes. See, every house has one; with magic we can travel through the sewage systems unharmed, and they only had to make a few adjustments to Floo Powder," Ron finished. "You just have to make sure you don't walk into anyone doing anything, er, compromising."
Harry's face reddened once again. If taking a whiz wasn't compromising, he didn't know what was. Still, it was lucky that Ron's face didn't pop up while Aunt Petunia or Uncle Vernon were taking care of business.
"Yeah, and there's an added plus to Poo Powder," Ron continued, while Harry grimaced at the name. "You don't need to have it on your side of the connection for it to work." Ron showed Harry the flowerpot full of blue powder. It was then that Harry realized what Ron was getting at.
He was going to arrive at the Burrow via *toilet*.
"Boy, what I wouldn't do for a good fireplace now," Harry said. The thought of zooming down the Dursleys' crapper was revolting, and Harry considered declining the offer. What if the magic didn't work, and he was stuck in the sewer system forever? Or what if he ended up in the wrong toilet, and scared some witch down in Yorkshire to death?
It looked like Ron was expecting this reaction, as he started going into a whole speech about how safe it is. "I would have had Dad tell you about this, but he's away at the Ministry right now," he added.
"Okay, okay," Harry finally caved in, hoping that the risk factor for toilet tragedies was low. I'll get my stuff. Just do me one favor, okay, Ron?"
"What?"
"Get your head out of my toilet. I really have to pee."
***********************************************
A few minutes later, Harry found himself spiraling through England's sewage system, trying to remember all of Ron's advice. Close your eyes. Keep your arms and legs crossed. Breathe through your nose.
Harry had thought it would be like Floo Powder; unpleasant but short-lived. But Poo Powder was quite different from its cousin. After Harry cautiously sat on the loo, Ron threw the dark blue powder, yelling, "The Burrow!"
The sensation was odd, like being sucked into a vortex. Once, when Mrs. Figg was sick, Harry had gone vacationing with the Durlseys at the beach, and Harry, a poor swimmer, had been caught in a whirlpool. That was kind of how Harry felt now, except it was also warm and humid. Water swirled all around him, but he was miraculously dry. It wasn't exactly uncomfortable, but after about 30 seconds, Harry began to get dizzy from all the twisting and turning.
"Well, at least I'm in the right place to chuck my cookies," Harry mused grimly.
Ten more seconds passed, and he began to slow done and finally stopped. With a pleasant 'pop', Harry found himself face to face with Ron, sitting on the Weasleys' toilet. They both doubled up in laughter.
"Ro-on, a little privacy please," Harry joked.
"Oh be quiet, you stupid git. I'm a prefect remember; don't make me give you detention."
"What's this all about? Are we carrying on?" a female voice enquired.
Ginny stuck her head into the lavatory.
"Hullo, Harry," she grinned, spotting him on the toilet. "Boy, do you have a big head. You need an entourage even to follow you into the bathroom?"
Embarrassed, Harry hopped off the john. "Hi Ginny," he said.
"I heard about your internship. Congratulations, you're a regular Percy-in- training."
Harry's face fell. Oh no. Was he going to be writing cauldron bottom reports for the next month?
"Just kidding!" Ginny laughed, watching his expression. "It's a great honor. Anyone would kill to work with the Defense Agency."
"Yeah, and don't think you're not going to share every single shred of information you hear with us," reminded Ron. Harry nodded.
At that instant, the trio's conversation was interrupted by a tremendous hoot from Hedwig. Apparently, she hadn't enjoyed the trip either, so Harry and Ron left to go unpack her and the rest of his things.
Upon entering Ron's violently orange room, Harry smiled at the fact Ron hadn't changed much since second year; he was still crazy about the Chudley Cannons, which considering their century-long losing streak, was quite crazy in itself. But Hedwig kept fussing, so Harry went over to attend to her while Ron started unloading Harry's trunk.
"Whoah, Harry, what's this?" Ron asked a few minutes later.
Harry turned. Ron was holding Sirius' mirror.
"Oh, it's er, nothing. Just a present that, uh, Cho gave me." Harry blushed at his lie.
"Ah," said Ron, with a knowing look ('If only he knew," thought Harry). "Well, it's very nice, mate, but I thought you two were finished."
"Yeah, she was quite pretty but I couldn't handle the flash floods," Harry said, relieved Ron had taken the bait. He didn't like keeping secrets from his best friend, but he couldn't share this just now. He would tell Ron eventually. He hoped.
*********************************************
In typical Weasley fashion, Harry stuffed himself on homemade cooking that night, explaining the finer points of septic tanks with Mr. Weasley, chatting about Quidditch with Ron, laughing at the newest Weasley's Wizard Wheeze (Queasy Quiche, "comes with real puss!"), and fighting off fourth and fifth portions offered by Mrs. Weasley. All in all, it was a good way to spend an evening.
But that night, lying wide-eyed in his bed, Harry's mind turned to less pleasant thoughts. He considered writing another letter to Luna; after all, it had made him feel better last time. So quietly, as to not disturb Ron, Harry penned:
**Dear Luna, Hi. I got an internship at the Ministry of Magic, so I'll be at Ron's house for the rest of the summer.**
He thought of writing more, but Ron's presence made him uncomfortable. What if he woke up, and asked whom Harry was writing to? He didn't want to go into a long explanation about Luna, so he gave the letter to Hedwig as is. But as he was looking for a place to stash his quill, he stumbled onto something else in Ron's desk (The third drawer, under the invisible ink, to be exact). It was a photograph.
A photograph of Hermione.
With a furtive glance back at Ron to make sure he was still sleeping, Harry picked up the picture. Hermione was huddled over a book (One Hundred and One Magical Herbs and Fungi) in such a position that Harry got the distinct impression that Hermione did not know that a picture was being taken.
Harry smiled. It was nice that Ron had found someone, even if that someone did not exactly return the sentiment. Wasn't Hermione still with Krum? Or were they just friends?
Either way, Harry was a little embarrassed of his foray into Ron's love life. After all, it really was none of his business. It did have one good side effect though- it made Harry very sleepy.
He sank back into bed, and his last thoughts before he lost consciousness were of fluffy little golden snitches.
Old habits die hard.
**********************
A/N: Hi everyone; thanks for reading. Now, PLEASE REVIEW!!!!! Next chapter Harry will get to see his job, and maybe more action will happen with Luna. We'll see! Maybe even some other special characters will make a guest appearance * evil laugh *
************************
The week dragged on as Harry impatiently awaited his departure from #4 Privet Drive. When Monday finally arrived, Harry packed his school things, tucked Hedwig snugly into her cage, and sat on the porch, eagerly anticipating the Weasleys' visit. He had already told his aunt and uncle that he would be leaving early; he thought they would be mad, but they merely grunted in acceptance. He supposed the memory of the All-England Best-Kept Suburban Lawn Competition was still fresh in their minds.
It was almost noon, and the sun was burning the back of Harry's neck. Still, better to be outside with the sweltering sun than inside with the drizzly (make that grizzly) Dursleys, Harry thought.
As the sun drifted slowly to the west, Harry got up and took a stroll around the neighborhood. In the distance, he could hear the pained cries of someone, probably a victim of Dudley's gang. Dudley, after retiring from his boxing career with three junior wins, something that Uncle Vernon liked to talk about very loudly on the porch (so the neighbors could hear), had gone back to his other favorite pastime: bullying. Who was it this time? The Dawkins boy? The Crockett girl? The Evans kid?
At least he wasn't the one being picked on. Not that he didn't have enough to worry about. On the contrary, dealing with Sirius' death, a new internship, more specialized wizard training at Hogwarts, and one day having to kill (or be killed by) the most evil sorcerer of the age was plenty to handle, thank you very much. And mentally, Harry added another item to his list of worries: Ron.
Where was he?
Harry hadn't considered it before, but how was Ron going to pick him up? Surely not by Floo Powder - they'd learned their lesson in his fourth year. And not by broomsticks either; they'd attract far too much attention in Muggle England.
"Maybe another flying car?" Harry said stupidly, before coming to his senses. After all the trouble Mr. Weasley had gotten into with the Ministry due to his enchanted Ford Anglia, Harry suspected that would be the last way they would pick him up. The Knight Bus? Harry wouldn't mind seeing Stan Shunpike again; any familiar face, however pimply, would be good right now.
Suddenly, something happened that made Harry forget about all about Stan Shunpike's face. In fact, it pretty much made him forget about everything. His mind was miraculously clear, save for one, burning desire.
He needed to pee.
Badly.
Perhaps it was the three glasses of orange juice he had had for breakfast, or maybe the glass of water he had had an hour before - the details didn't matter, Harry *had* to go. Gritting his teeth, he rushed back to the house, pounced up the stairs, and immediately found himself in the Dursleys' (compulsively clean) bathroom.
"Thank Merlin," Harry muttered, undoing his pants.
But just as he was about to relieve himself, something odd appeared in the toilet. It started off as a shapeless blur, but then began to take form. Harry thought it was a trick of light, but peering closer, saw that it looked like a boy's head. Getting still nearer, he noticed the head had striking red hair.
It looked like Ron's head.
RON!?
"Ron, WHAT are you doing in my TOILET?" Harry screamed, jumping back.
"Oi, sorry Harry, it's just. . . Oi, mate, can you please put that away while I'm talking to you?" Ron blushed.
Harry turned even redder and zipped up his pants.
'Good thing I didn't have any of Aunt Petunia's chili for lunch,' Harry thought to himself mirthlessly. 'Although it would serve the nosy git right for lurking in my toilet to begin with.'
"Auditioning for Moaning Myrtle's job?" Harry asked instead.
"No, really, sorry, Harry," said Ron, and he looked it, "but the Ministry has been clamping down on Floo Powder use. Apparently the Department of Health at St. Mungo's was getting a lot of complaints about lung infections and other Muggle problems from all the soot and ash in the fireplaces. So the Ministry has started to make everyone use a replacement."
"Toilets?" Harry asked incredulously.
"Well, yes. See, every house has one; with magic we can travel through the sewage systems unharmed, and they only had to make a few adjustments to Floo Powder," Ron finished. "You just have to make sure you don't walk into anyone doing anything, er, compromising."
Harry's face reddened once again. If taking a whiz wasn't compromising, he didn't know what was. Still, it was lucky that Ron's face didn't pop up while Aunt Petunia or Uncle Vernon were taking care of business.
"Yeah, and there's an added plus to Poo Powder," Ron continued, while Harry grimaced at the name. "You don't need to have it on your side of the connection for it to work." Ron showed Harry the flowerpot full of blue powder. It was then that Harry realized what Ron was getting at.
He was going to arrive at the Burrow via *toilet*.
"Boy, what I wouldn't do for a good fireplace now," Harry said. The thought of zooming down the Dursleys' crapper was revolting, and Harry considered declining the offer. What if the magic didn't work, and he was stuck in the sewer system forever? Or what if he ended up in the wrong toilet, and scared some witch down in Yorkshire to death?
It looked like Ron was expecting this reaction, as he started going into a whole speech about how safe it is. "I would have had Dad tell you about this, but he's away at the Ministry right now," he added.
"Okay, okay," Harry finally caved in, hoping that the risk factor for toilet tragedies was low. I'll get my stuff. Just do me one favor, okay, Ron?"
"What?"
"Get your head out of my toilet. I really have to pee."
***********************************************
A few minutes later, Harry found himself spiraling through England's sewage system, trying to remember all of Ron's advice. Close your eyes. Keep your arms and legs crossed. Breathe through your nose.
Harry had thought it would be like Floo Powder; unpleasant but short-lived. But Poo Powder was quite different from its cousin. After Harry cautiously sat on the loo, Ron threw the dark blue powder, yelling, "The Burrow!"
The sensation was odd, like being sucked into a vortex. Once, when Mrs. Figg was sick, Harry had gone vacationing with the Durlseys at the beach, and Harry, a poor swimmer, had been caught in a whirlpool. That was kind of how Harry felt now, except it was also warm and humid. Water swirled all around him, but he was miraculously dry. It wasn't exactly uncomfortable, but after about 30 seconds, Harry began to get dizzy from all the twisting and turning.
"Well, at least I'm in the right place to chuck my cookies," Harry mused grimly.
Ten more seconds passed, and he began to slow done and finally stopped. With a pleasant 'pop', Harry found himself face to face with Ron, sitting on the Weasleys' toilet. They both doubled up in laughter.
"Ro-on, a little privacy please," Harry joked.
"Oh be quiet, you stupid git. I'm a prefect remember; don't make me give you detention."
"What's this all about? Are we carrying on?" a female voice enquired.
Ginny stuck her head into the lavatory.
"Hullo, Harry," she grinned, spotting him on the toilet. "Boy, do you have a big head. You need an entourage even to follow you into the bathroom?"
Embarrassed, Harry hopped off the john. "Hi Ginny," he said.
"I heard about your internship. Congratulations, you're a regular Percy-in- training."
Harry's face fell. Oh no. Was he going to be writing cauldron bottom reports for the next month?
"Just kidding!" Ginny laughed, watching his expression. "It's a great honor. Anyone would kill to work with the Defense Agency."
"Yeah, and don't think you're not going to share every single shred of information you hear with us," reminded Ron. Harry nodded.
At that instant, the trio's conversation was interrupted by a tremendous hoot from Hedwig. Apparently, she hadn't enjoyed the trip either, so Harry and Ron left to go unpack her and the rest of his things.
Upon entering Ron's violently orange room, Harry smiled at the fact Ron hadn't changed much since second year; he was still crazy about the Chudley Cannons, which considering their century-long losing streak, was quite crazy in itself. But Hedwig kept fussing, so Harry went over to attend to her while Ron started unloading Harry's trunk.
"Whoah, Harry, what's this?" Ron asked a few minutes later.
Harry turned. Ron was holding Sirius' mirror.
"Oh, it's er, nothing. Just a present that, uh, Cho gave me." Harry blushed at his lie.
"Ah," said Ron, with a knowing look ('If only he knew," thought Harry). "Well, it's very nice, mate, but I thought you two were finished."
"Yeah, she was quite pretty but I couldn't handle the flash floods," Harry said, relieved Ron had taken the bait. He didn't like keeping secrets from his best friend, but he couldn't share this just now. He would tell Ron eventually. He hoped.
*********************************************
In typical Weasley fashion, Harry stuffed himself on homemade cooking that night, explaining the finer points of septic tanks with Mr. Weasley, chatting about Quidditch with Ron, laughing at the newest Weasley's Wizard Wheeze (Queasy Quiche, "comes with real puss!"), and fighting off fourth and fifth portions offered by Mrs. Weasley. All in all, it was a good way to spend an evening.
But that night, lying wide-eyed in his bed, Harry's mind turned to less pleasant thoughts. He considered writing another letter to Luna; after all, it had made him feel better last time. So quietly, as to not disturb Ron, Harry penned:
**Dear Luna, Hi. I got an internship at the Ministry of Magic, so I'll be at Ron's house for the rest of the summer.**
He thought of writing more, but Ron's presence made him uncomfortable. What if he woke up, and asked whom Harry was writing to? He didn't want to go into a long explanation about Luna, so he gave the letter to Hedwig as is. But as he was looking for a place to stash his quill, he stumbled onto something else in Ron's desk (The third drawer, under the invisible ink, to be exact). It was a photograph.
A photograph of Hermione.
With a furtive glance back at Ron to make sure he was still sleeping, Harry picked up the picture. Hermione was huddled over a book (One Hundred and One Magical Herbs and Fungi) in such a position that Harry got the distinct impression that Hermione did not know that a picture was being taken.
Harry smiled. It was nice that Ron had found someone, even if that someone did not exactly return the sentiment. Wasn't Hermione still with Krum? Or were they just friends?
Either way, Harry was a little embarrassed of his foray into Ron's love life. After all, it really was none of his business. It did have one good side effect though- it made Harry very sleepy.
He sank back into bed, and his last thoughts before he lost consciousness were of fluffy little golden snitches.
Old habits die hard.
**********************
A/N: Hi everyone; thanks for reading. Now, PLEASE REVIEW!!!!! Next chapter Harry will get to see his job, and maybe more action will happen with Luna. We'll see! Maybe even some other special characters will make a guest appearance * evil laugh *