Freaky Friday
Disclaimer: Well. Here we are. Heh. It's taken me long enough to get a story up here, but there you are. I didn't create any characters I have written about - just the mad storyline for this mini fiction. So don't sue me, I'm just a humble, bored teenager. :-) Also, this is a kind of Harry Potter version of the film Freaky Friday, and I didn't create that either.
Note: Thanks to the Love Actually soundtrack, which is what I'm listening to as I write this ... heh.
Chapter One - Where Freakiness Begins
"Baby I'm too lost in you, caught in you, lost in everything about you - so deep, I can't sleep - I can't breathe - I just think about the things that you do ..." - Sugababes "Too Lost In You".
The last thing Ron Weasley was thinking about, on the eventful morning of Friday 27th of December, was being someone else.
Which was partly why he was so surprised when it turned out that he was. He opened his eyes, expecting to be in the dark, messy room that belonged to him, right at the top of the Burrow, which was the Weasley family's "home base".
But of course, he wasn't.
He shut his eyes straight away, surprised by the amount of light around him. His mother never opened his curtains before he had woken up - she knew how grumpy he got when people disturbed his sleep in the holidays. So why was there cold, brisk, wintery sunlight streaming through his windows?
He opened his eyes again, lifting his arms to rub them before looking around again. Maybe, he thought, he needed glasses. Because, as he looked around, his bed was facing the wrong way. Instead of being directly opposite a window, it was right by one.
A huge window, that wasn't his.
He sat upright, looking around. The first rational thought that cut across his panic was: Where are my Chudley Cannons Posters? There was no orange to be seen in this room. Just a cool, even, light blue - everywhere. The walls were light blue, the floor was polished wood, and the furniture was a very light shade of pine. White, smooth net curtains flowed in the breeze that swept through the window, and there were slightly darker blue curtains that had been tied back with beads.
This definitely was not his room.
The bed had the same colour sheets as the curtains, and there were drapes across it. Drapes! Just like at school. But they were light and semi- transparent, and not closed. There was a large picture of an underwater scene in a blue frame on the wall, but apart from that, there were no posters or pictures anywhere. There were blue beads covering a pine door on the other side of the room.
Completely stunned, Ron's mouth dropped open. A slight jingling noise made him jump, and he looked around to see a wind chime dangling over his head. Shaking, he lifted his arm to touch it - and then let out a yelp of shock.
That arm wasn't his, either. It had hardly any freckles, and was a tiny bit darker than his skin. His hands had neatly filed, slightly shiny nails, longer than his bitten ones. His eyes widening, he looked down at himself. He wasn't wearing maroon pyjamas. He was wearing a white nightie, that wasn't his, either.
Ron was in such shock by this point that he thought his eyeballs were going to fall out of their sockets. Then - as though the world was deliberately trying to scare the life out of him - some music started playing, out of no where, a tune that he didn't recognize. It was bouncy and bright, and being sung by girls.
"The time is nine forty-five, and you're listening to Spark FM. For those of you who have just tuned in, we've got non-stop music fresh from the charts until eleven - so keep yourself tuned in!"
He stood up and walked over to a strange looking contraption on the bedside table. It was blue, shiny, and had numbers that glowed a neon turquoise: "9:47". The sound was coming from it.
It's a clock, he thought. A very strange clock. With sounds in it.
A new song started. It was slower and had a nice, even drum beat in the background. It took a few moments for Ron to realize it was a radio of some kind.
Maybe it was a new thing. After all, his family didn't have a lot of money for these kind of things.
My family, Ron thought. The thought that he wasn't him, and wasn't in his room, or by the looks of it, his house, hit him with such force that he flopped back onto the bed - which also wasn't his - and leant against the pillows.
Okay, he thought, It's time to see who I am.
He sat up again, looking around for some kind of mirror. He finally spotted a large, wavy one, hanging on the wall. Taking a deep breath, he walked over to it.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!"
******* Hermione sat bolt upright.
At once, she sensed that she wasn't where she was supposed to be. For one thing, it wasn't light enough. The curtains were still pulled, which was highly unusual. Her mother usually took care of that. She came in, opened her curtains, left a fresh glass of water beside her bed, and left again. It was their morning ritual. It wasn't going to change for anything.
Mum, she thought wildly, Dad!
Terrified that something had happened to them, she sat up. She turned around. Her wind chime wasn't there. In fact, her window wasn't there.
Then she sensed something else. Her nose crinkled up as she took in a deep breath.
It didn't smell like her room, at all. Her room smelt of flowers, and freshness. This room - well - didn't. It felt like mess, and damp, like a cage in a zoo - she could smell some rotting food somewhere, she was sure of it. This didn't tie in very well with her.
Squinting, she stood up. And the first thing she noticed was a strange draught around her ankles. Glancing down, she let a terrified whimper, as she saw herself wearing velvety red pyjamas.
She sank back down onto the bed and leapt back up again as she heard something crack. Her hand delved under the covers and she pulled out a plastic version of her almost-boyfriend, Viktor Krum.
Her eyes widened as he hopped around the palm of her hand, holding the leg that she had accidentally broken. He looked up at her, and gave her a pained sort of grimace.
Hermione dropped Krum like he was burning her, and stared down at herself. She quickly found an old, dusty mirror hidden in the mess that spanned the room, and let out a yelp in a voice that was much deeper than hers.
She was Hermione Granger. In Ron Weasley's body.
"Ron!"
Hermione gasped, staring around at the door. Then something else caught her attention. She had forgotten how many bright orange Chudley Cannons posters there were in Ron's room. It was giving her a headache.
She thought for a moment of diving under Ron's bed - if she could get under there, with all the stuff he had apparently shoved there - and hiding until whoever was shouting Ron's name went away. But then she remembered - she WAS Ron. Kind of. So there wasn't a lot of point of hiding.
"Erm - yes?"
"Breakfast's ready, love. Get yourself up."
"Erm -" Hermione stammered, not used to using Ron's voice, "Okay! I'll be down in - just a moment -"
She waited, her heart - Ron's heart! - hammering in her - his! - chest. Something very strange was happening here. It was obviously some kind of magic, maybe as a joke - but she had never read about any charm that would make you switch places with someone. The first thought that came to her was Polyjuice Potion - but then again, if it was, it would wear off at any moment, and how did whoever was responsible for her change manage to get her to drink it without her noticing? And how did they get her to Ron's house? No, it couldn't be Polyjuice Potion. It must have been something else.
She wanted to sit in front of her computer with a stack of books and research for hours until she found out what happened to her, but she was, after all, in Ron's house. The chances of having a book describing her problem were very slim, and the chances of them having a computer were even slimmer. She tried pottering around looking for books anyway, but she got as far as "Martin Minks, the Mad Muggle Annual" before giving up.
"RON!" bellowed a male voice. It sounded like Fred, or George. "Mum says your bacon's getting cold. What're you doing in there, anyway?"
There was a mutter and a few sarcastic laughs, and then footsteps down the stairs. Hermione sighed. She needed to get ready for breakfast, or things would look suspicious. She couldn't tell the Weasley family - for one thing, they wouldn't believe her, and for another, even if they did, they would probably find it hysterically funny anyway.
So she eventually found Ron's wardrobe - the only empty space in the room - with a few items of clothing that looked as though they had never been worn. There was a pair of neat blue jeans and a blue shirt. She grabbed a pair of underwear - thinking, oh God! - and hurriedly got changed, not looking at herself. When she had done, she looked in the mirror, and tried to sort out her hair.
Looking a bit more presentable, she walked out, found a bathroom, and had a quick wash before going down the few flights of stairs to the Weasley kitchen. Feeling terrified, she pushed open the door and stepped inside.
"Morning, Ron!" Several people chorused. With a quick glance, Hermione saw Mr and Mrs Weasley, Fred, George, Percy and Ginny all sat around the table. Bill and Charlie weren't there. Wondering whether she should act surprised by this or not, she tentatively sat down in front of a bulging plate. It had about five slices of bacon, three sausages, several slices of fried bread, tomatoes, beans and eggs.
How on Earth do you eat this, Ron? she thought desperately, staring at the plate. Everyone else seemed to be wolfing down their breakfast. She hated eggs - how was she going to get away without eating them? The family ate and chattered, and Hermione didn't really trust herself to speak, so she stayed silent most of the time. She knew that eventually, people would start talking to her, and she was bracing herself for it.
She still felt terrified when Ginny looked at her and said, "Ron, what are you wearing?"
Most of the family turned to stare at him. Fred sniggered.
"You look very stylish, Ron."
"It was the only clean thing I could find!" Hermione said defensively. She regretted speaking straight away and wondered if she had said the wrong thing.
However, it seemed to go down well with the Weasley's, who just smiled, shrugged, and moved on to other topics of conversation. Sighing in relief, Hermione concentrated on her breakfast. She managed to eat the eggs - barely - so it seemed that she still had her own taste buds as well as her own personality.
Feeling bloated, she picked up her nearly empty plate and finished glass of orange juice and put it by the sink. Mrs Weasley turned to her, so suddenly that it made her jump, and she - he, even! - blushed.
"Are you feeling alright, dear?"
"Fine! I'm - fine. Why?" Hermione gabbled, losing her cool.
"It's just - you're dressed for breakfast, and didn't moan at me when I woke you up - and now you're bringing your plate to the sink." Mrs Weasley frowned.
God, Ron is lazy, Hermione thought. He had better not treat my mother like that.
It suddenly hit her.
Ron was in Hermione's body.
"Oh I'm fine! Fine, fine, fine. Never better. Erm, I'm just feeling - erm - happy! Happy, erm, that's the one. Yes, happy, happy, happy. Um, I'm going to go - erm - go." She waved over-enthusiastically at a startled Mrs Weasley. "Thanks for breakfast!"
And she ran off as fast as she could.
Once she got back to Ron's room, she scrambled around for a piece of parchment for about half an hour before she found one that didn't have old notes or "DIE, MALFOY, DIE" written on it. She found a quill and ink and hastily wrote:
Ron,
Yes, Ron, because I know you're there,
What on earth is going on? Are you in my body? If so, can you get out, please? We have to meet up immediately. Erm - tell my mum and dad that - erm - you're meeting Ginny in Diagon Alley. Get them to drop you off. I'll take Floo Powder or something, pretend I'm meeting Dean. You are friends with Dean, aren't you? Your parents will let me, won't they? I haven't told anyone. I hope you haven't. Try not to act too conspicuous.
Hermione
P.S - You are so ungrateful to your parents! Your mother looked as though she was going to faint when I cleared the table. Honestly. You had better not be like that with my parents.
She sealed the parchment, grabbed Pigwidgeon, Ron's owl, and said "Take this to R-Hermione."
He hooted excitedly and fluttered out of the window at great speed.
You had better not read my diary, Ron Weasley!
Disclaimer: Well. Here we are. Heh. It's taken me long enough to get a story up here, but there you are. I didn't create any characters I have written about - just the mad storyline for this mini fiction. So don't sue me, I'm just a humble, bored teenager. :-) Also, this is a kind of Harry Potter version of the film Freaky Friday, and I didn't create that either.
Note: Thanks to the Love Actually soundtrack, which is what I'm listening to as I write this ... heh.
Chapter One - Where Freakiness Begins
"Baby I'm too lost in you, caught in you, lost in everything about you - so deep, I can't sleep - I can't breathe - I just think about the things that you do ..." - Sugababes "Too Lost In You".
The last thing Ron Weasley was thinking about, on the eventful morning of Friday 27th of December, was being someone else.
Which was partly why he was so surprised when it turned out that he was. He opened his eyes, expecting to be in the dark, messy room that belonged to him, right at the top of the Burrow, which was the Weasley family's "home base".
But of course, he wasn't.
He shut his eyes straight away, surprised by the amount of light around him. His mother never opened his curtains before he had woken up - she knew how grumpy he got when people disturbed his sleep in the holidays. So why was there cold, brisk, wintery sunlight streaming through his windows?
He opened his eyes again, lifting his arms to rub them before looking around again. Maybe, he thought, he needed glasses. Because, as he looked around, his bed was facing the wrong way. Instead of being directly opposite a window, it was right by one.
A huge window, that wasn't his.
He sat upright, looking around. The first rational thought that cut across his panic was: Where are my Chudley Cannons Posters? There was no orange to be seen in this room. Just a cool, even, light blue - everywhere. The walls were light blue, the floor was polished wood, and the furniture was a very light shade of pine. White, smooth net curtains flowed in the breeze that swept through the window, and there were slightly darker blue curtains that had been tied back with beads.
This definitely was not his room.
The bed had the same colour sheets as the curtains, and there were drapes across it. Drapes! Just like at school. But they were light and semi- transparent, and not closed. There was a large picture of an underwater scene in a blue frame on the wall, but apart from that, there were no posters or pictures anywhere. There were blue beads covering a pine door on the other side of the room.
Completely stunned, Ron's mouth dropped open. A slight jingling noise made him jump, and he looked around to see a wind chime dangling over his head. Shaking, he lifted his arm to touch it - and then let out a yelp of shock.
That arm wasn't his, either. It had hardly any freckles, and was a tiny bit darker than his skin. His hands had neatly filed, slightly shiny nails, longer than his bitten ones. His eyes widening, he looked down at himself. He wasn't wearing maroon pyjamas. He was wearing a white nightie, that wasn't his, either.
Ron was in such shock by this point that he thought his eyeballs were going to fall out of their sockets. Then - as though the world was deliberately trying to scare the life out of him - some music started playing, out of no where, a tune that he didn't recognize. It was bouncy and bright, and being sung by girls.
"The time is nine forty-five, and you're listening to Spark FM. For those of you who have just tuned in, we've got non-stop music fresh from the charts until eleven - so keep yourself tuned in!"
He stood up and walked over to a strange looking contraption on the bedside table. It was blue, shiny, and had numbers that glowed a neon turquoise: "9:47". The sound was coming from it.
It's a clock, he thought. A very strange clock. With sounds in it.
A new song started. It was slower and had a nice, even drum beat in the background. It took a few moments for Ron to realize it was a radio of some kind.
Maybe it was a new thing. After all, his family didn't have a lot of money for these kind of things.
My family, Ron thought. The thought that he wasn't him, and wasn't in his room, or by the looks of it, his house, hit him with such force that he flopped back onto the bed - which also wasn't his - and leant against the pillows.
Okay, he thought, It's time to see who I am.
He sat up again, looking around for some kind of mirror. He finally spotted a large, wavy one, hanging on the wall. Taking a deep breath, he walked over to it.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!"
******* Hermione sat bolt upright.
At once, she sensed that she wasn't where she was supposed to be. For one thing, it wasn't light enough. The curtains were still pulled, which was highly unusual. Her mother usually took care of that. She came in, opened her curtains, left a fresh glass of water beside her bed, and left again. It was their morning ritual. It wasn't going to change for anything.
Mum, she thought wildly, Dad!
Terrified that something had happened to them, she sat up. She turned around. Her wind chime wasn't there. In fact, her window wasn't there.
Then she sensed something else. Her nose crinkled up as she took in a deep breath.
It didn't smell like her room, at all. Her room smelt of flowers, and freshness. This room - well - didn't. It felt like mess, and damp, like a cage in a zoo - she could smell some rotting food somewhere, she was sure of it. This didn't tie in very well with her.
Squinting, she stood up. And the first thing she noticed was a strange draught around her ankles. Glancing down, she let a terrified whimper, as she saw herself wearing velvety red pyjamas.
She sank back down onto the bed and leapt back up again as she heard something crack. Her hand delved under the covers and she pulled out a plastic version of her almost-boyfriend, Viktor Krum.
Her eyes widened as he hopped around the palm of her hand, holding the leg that she had accidentally broken. He looked up at her, and gave her a pained sort of grimace.
Hermione dropped Krum like he was burning her, and stared down at herself. She quickly found an old, dusty mirror hidden in the mess that spanned the room, and let out a yelp in a voice that was much deeper than hers.
She was Hermione Granger. In Ron Weasley's body.
"Ron!"
Hermione gasped, staring around at the door. Then something else caught her attention. She had forgotten how many bright orange Chudley Cannons posters there were in Ron's room. It was giving her a headache.
She thought for a moment of diving under Ron's bed - if she could get under there, with all the stuff he had apparently shoved there - and hiding until whoever was shouting Ron's name went away. But then she remembered - she WAS Ron. Kind of. So there wasn't a lot of point of hiding.
"Erm - yes?"
"Breakfast's ready, love. Get yourself up."
"Erm -" Hermione stammered, not used to using Ron's voice, "Okay! I'll be down in - just a moment -"
She waited, her heart - Ron's heart! - hammering in her - his! - chest. Something very strange was happening here. It was obviously some kind of magic, maybe as a joke - but she had never read about any charm that would make you switch places with someone. The first thought that came to her was Polyjuice Potion - but then again, if it was, it would wear off at any moment, and how did whoever was responsible for her change manage to get her to drink it without her noticing? And how did they get her to Ron's house? No, it couldn't be Polyjuice Potion. It must have been something else.
She wanted to sit in front of her computer with a stack of books and research for hours until she found out what happened to her, but she was, after all, in Ron's house. The chances of having a book describing her problem were very slim, and the chances of them having a computer were even slimmer. She tried pottering around looking for books anyway, but she got as far as "Martin Minks, the Mad Muggle Annual" before giving up.
"RON!" bellowed a male voice. It sounded like Fred, or George. "Mum says your bacon's getting cold. What're you doing in there, anyway?"
There was a mutter and a few sarcastic laughs, and then footsteps down the stairs. Hermione sighed. She needed to get ready for breakfast, or things would look suspicious. She couldn't tell the Weasley family - for one thing, they wouldn't believe her, and for another, even if they did, they would probably find it hysterically funny anyway.
So she eventually found Ron's wardrobe - the only empty space in the room - with a few items of clothing that looked as though they had never been worn. There was a pair of neat blue jeans and a blue shirt. She grabbed a pair of underwear - thinking, oh God! - and hurriedly got changed, not looking at herself. When she had done, she looked in the mirror, and tried to sort out her hair.
Looking a bit more presentable, she walked out, found a bathroom, and had a quick wash before going down the few flights of stairs to the Weasley kitchen. Feeling terrified, she pushed open the door and stepped inside.
"Morning, Ron!" Several people chorused. With a quick glance, Hermione saw Mr and Mrs Weasley, Fred, George, Percy and Ginny all sat around the table. Bill and Charlie weren't there. Wondering whether she should act surprised by this or not, she tentatively sat down in front of a bulging plate. It had about five slices of bacon, three sausages, several slices of fried bread, tomatoes, beans and eggs.
How on Earth do you eat this, Ron? she thought desperately, staring at the plate. Everyone else seemed to be wolfing down their breakfast. She hated eggs - how was she going to get away without eating them? The family ate and chattered, and Hermione didn't really trust herself to speak, so she stayed silent most of the time. She knew that eventually, people would start talking to her, and she was bracing herself for it.
She still felt terrified when Ginny looked at her and said, "Ron, what are you wearing?"
Most of the family turned to stare at him. Fred sniggered.
"You look very stylish, Ron."
"It was the only clean thing I could find!" Hermione said defensively. She regretted speaking straight away and wondered if she had said the wrong thing.
However, it seemed to go down well with the Weasley's, who just smiled, shrugged, and moved on to other topics of conversation. Sighing in relief, Hermione concentrated on her breakfast. She managed to eat the eggs - barely - so it seemed that she still had her own taste buds as well as her own personality.
Feeling bloated, she picked up her nearly empty plate and finished glass of orange juice and put it by the sink. Mrs Weasley turned to her, so suddenly that it made her jump, and she - he, even! - blushed.
"Are you feeling alright, dear?"
"Fine! I'm - fine. Why?" Hermione gabbled, losing her cool.
"It's just - you're dressed for breakfast, and didn't moan at me when I woke you up - and now you're bringing your plate to the sink." Mrs Weasley frowned.
God, Ron is lazy, Hermione thought. He had better not treat my mother like that.
It suddenly hit her.
Ron was in Hermione's body.
"Oh I'm fine! Fine, fine, fine. Never better. Erm, I'm just feeling - erm - happy! Happy, erm, that's the one. Yes, happy, happy, happy. Um, I'm going to go - erm - go." She waved over-enthusiastically at a startled Mrs Weasley. "Thanks for breakfast!"
And she ran off as fast as she could.
Once she got back to Ron's room, she scrambled around for a piece of parchment for about half an hour before she found one that didn't have old notes or "DIE, MALFOY, DIE" written on it. She found a quill and ink and hastily wrote:
Ron,
Yes, Ron, because I know you're there,
What on earth is going on? Are you in my body? If so, can you get out, please? We have to meet up immediately. Erm - tell my mum and dad that - erm - you're meeting Ginny in Diagon Alley. Get them to drop you off. I'll take Floo Powder or something, pretend I'm meeting Dean. You are friends with Dean, aren't you? Your parents will let me, won't they? I haven't told anyone. I hope you haven't. Try not to act too conspicuous.
Hermione
P.S - You are so ungrateful to your parents! Your mother looked as though she was going to faint when I cleared the table. Honestly. You had better not be like that with my parents.
She sealed the parchment, grabbed Pigwidgeon, Ron's owl, and said "Take this to R-Hermione."
He hooted excitedly and fluttered out of the window at great speed.
You had better not read my diary, Ron Weasley!