Hermione: It's finally here! Sorry for making you all wait so long… Boys don't know how to do work.
Ron: Yes we do! …Otherwise this chapter wouldn't be here. We all know who the intellectual superior is here.
Harry and Cho: …Hermione.
Hermione: Hah! Serves you right, you little redheaded prick!
Ron: WHAT?
Hermione: …We have to write as the plot grows thick!
Harry: ANYWAY! Chapter 8! Enjoy!
Ron: aside Wanker…
Cho: Ron! thwap
Ron: What? I was just… Oh, fine. Chapter 8. Enjoy…
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Chapter 8 - Prank You Very Much
Everyone loudly entered the living room once more in a cacophony of cheers, still patting Harry and Hermione for their amazing performance on the Quidditch field.
"Honestly," Hermione started, going slightly red in the face. "We didn't do that well!"
"Well come on, Hermione!" Ron exclaimed excitedly, still slightly breathless from his cheering. "You were the one who saved the day! Where on earth did you find all that time to practice Quidditch?"
"You really should try out for chaser when we get back to school," Harry agreed encouragingly.
"Are you kidding me?" countered Hermione. "Percy flew circles around all of us!"
But Percy wasn't paying attention. He seemed unable to let go of the Firebolt, with his knuckles whitening, as his cold eyes froze upon Mr. Weasley's oblivious form as the elder Weasley conversed quietly with his wife.
"Perce…are you petrified or something?" Fred joked as he noticed his brother's unblinking stare. When Percy did not reply, he continued, "Percy. . . hello . . . Earth to Percy." Percy still had no response while his face turned redder in anger until finally George waved his hand in front of Percy's insensible expression, summoning a response.
"What do you want," Percy snapped as he came out of his daze.
"Nothing, Percy. We were just congratulating all of you on a good game," Hermione explained, shooting Percy a confused look.
"It was nothing. Harry's Firebolt did most of the work," Percy replied tersely, before shoving the broomstick still in his grasp rather forcefully into Harry unsuspecting arms and storming out of the room
"So, what are we going to do now?" Harry asked as he rubbed his arms where the broom had collided, hoping to diffuse the tangible tension that had filled the room.
"Well, I don't know about you, but I'm starving!" Ron exclaimed excitedly—glad of the change of topic. "With all that Quidditch, I've worked up an appetite."
"Ron, we just ate less than an hour ago!" Hermione countered with a frown. "How on EARTH do you get hungry so much?"
"I don't know, it just happens," Ron answered exasperatedly. "At least I'm putting the food to good use; I haven't seen you grow since 3rd year!"
"That was uncalled for!" Hermione cried, whacking the red-head squarely on his forehead. "You just don't have the attention span to notice. I have grown, haven't I, Harry?"
Harry blinked bemusedly at the sudden change of course in the argument. He slid furtive glances between his best friends, unable to mitigate the situation. Fortunately for him, the familiar voice of his godfather saved him from uttering a response.
"I know just what you need after a hard game of Quidditch," he called out in an innocuous voice as he held a large, jug adorned with a picture of large jack-o-lanterns grinning ear to ear. "Mrs. Weasley decided to make all of you pumpkin juice, since you all must be really thirsty," he continued, politely pouring the orange liquid into the multi-coloured glasses that Remus had balanced on a tray. Harry, Hermione, and the Weasleys shared a nervous glance as they cautiously picked up one of the cups, holding them gingerly as if expecting them to explode at any second.
"What?" Sirius asked curiously as he caught the distrustful looks. "Don't you even trust your own mother?"
"It's not her that we don't trust," Fred muttered darkly under his breath as George nodded fervently in agreement.
Sirius huffed irritably before taking a long sip from his glass. Seeing the sighs of relief when nothing happened, he smirked smugly. "Come on, would I do that to you?"
Everyone, seeing how no Sirius repercussions yet came about from the pumpkin juice, took a swig. The cool orange liquid replenished their senses so much that, after their cautious spell check, they all gulped down the rest. Nothing happened, thank goodness—immediately. Slowly but surely, however everyone started noticing something different in the twins' countenances. No one could put their finger on it, and no one said a word, but there was definitely something wrong.
Harry raised an eyebrow. He slipped a glance at Percy, who was rolling his eyes in annoyance. The rest of the Weasleys had their eyes glued upon the twins. Once Fred and George were satisfied that they were still intact, the twins grinned and peered at their companions. "It's all right, everyone. Apparently, Mr. Black-who-is-too-old-to-prank has lost his touch."
Everyone, however, knew that this wasn't the case, as Sirius scrutinized the twins very closely, as if waiting for them to burst any moment.
"Fred," George started, "there's something on your face."
"Where?" asked Fred, putting his glass down on the kitchen table.
"…here…let me…"
"OUCH! You idiot! What are you doing?"
"It was just a stray hair!"
Just as the words were said, a tangled mass of auburn streaked hair began creeping out from the twins' heads, snaking past their shocked faces and bodies. Soon, only the white tips of their sneakers were visible beneath the puffy manes that encompassed the twins' forms.
"Wow," Harry gasped in surprise as he struggled to suppress a snigger, "You two look like twin 'Cousin It's."
Only Hermione seemed to have understood the joke, however, as Ron and the rest of the Weasleys watched bemusedly as she and Harry burst into gales of hysterical laughter.
"It must be a muggle thing," Ron muttered to Ginny with a raised eyebrow as he supported Hermione from falling over.
The laughter subsided within moments, as the identical ginger manes split, and a thick, voluminous layer of it fell to the floor.
Their bushy locks continued to break off and drift towards the floor like bright red feathers, and each successive bunch of hair that fell left the twins about three inches shorter. It wasn't long before the twins' horrified expressions peeked through the curtains of coarse fibres. Ron was the first to notice, however, that their eyes only came up to his waist.
"What the…" Ron stammered through his laughter. His expression shifted rapidly between vapid confusion and blind amazement as the twins emerged from their fountains of locks as twin house elves, complete with grimy pillowcases.
Mrs. Weasley, who ambled into the room promptly as the last of the twins' hair fell away, dropped the dish she was carrying and gasped in surprise. Despite their pointy ears, bald countenances, and short, lanky bodies, she quickly recognized Fred and George's faces. She burst into laughter when she heard them cry for her help.
"What on Earth have you two gotten yourselves into this time?" she asked with a stern expression on her face and her hands firmly on her hips.
"We didn't do anything, mum. Honestly!" exclaimed George in a high, squeaky voice that was not his own. "Please help us!"
"Oh, I don't know…" Mrs. Weasley replied doubtfully, with a smirk tugging the corners of her lips and an unusually mischievous glint shining in her chocolate coloured eyes. "I've always wanted some house-elves to help with the cleaning; it seems that today's my lucky day. You can start by cleaning up the mess you've made," she continued calmly, gesturing at the piles of hair on the floor.
At this, Fred and George shared identical looks of horror plastered on their now pale cheeks. "Mum!" they exclaimed desperately.
"Don't worry, dears," she mollified as she took in the looks of terror on the twins and the flabbergasted expressions worn by almost everyone else. "I'm sure the spell will fade soon," she continued, sharing a small grin with Sirius.
Sure enough, ginger coloured locks of hair reappeared from the scalps of the house-elves as the twin figures began to regain their lost height. Before the others' eyes, Fred and George stood with their own normal bodies—well, as normal as two teenage, six foot tall, redheaded twin boys could be. The mass of hair which had surrounded them in piles had also vanished from the wooden paned floor, leaving a shiny polished surface behind.
Everyone's gaze now rested on the tall figures of Sirius and Remus, who were both leaning nonchalantly on the door frame, peering innocently back.
"Well, Fred you have to admit that that was a good prank," Sirius said, haughtily inspecting his fingernails when no one made any move. "After all, the fusion of a double curse into a potion isn't terribly easy."
"This means war, Sirius!" Fred exclaimed angrily.
"We'll see who'll get the last laugh, you old bat!" George fumed furiously.
"No one calls ME old and gets away with it!" countered Sirius, just as angrily.
Without replying, the twins stormed out of the room past the smirking forms of the Marauders, who waved them energetically away.
"So," George said at the doorway in a whisper loud enough for Sirius to hear, "how much of that Colour Cream do you think we could sneak into his pumpkin juice tonight?"
"Oh, a considerable amount, knowing how much that oaf drinks," Fred replied in the same manner as he turned and looked shrewdly at the old Marauder.
Sirius simply pretended not to hear them, though, and a grin came to his face that told everyone that the innermost reaches of his prank-concocting mind were quite busy. Fred and George couldn't help but notice. As they walked off to their room to work on their next "project", Sirius heard them both shudder in the hallway. Mrs. Weasley sighed as she saw them up to their room.
"I hope that's settled," Sirius said cheerily.
"I doubt it," Ron groaned. "Those two will have the last laugh—you can count on that."
"We'll see about that."
"Oh, really?" Fred yelled from far off in the house.
"Yes, really!" Sirius shouted back.
"I wonder what those two are up to now," mused Harry thoughtfully as he gazed at the twins' retreating backs.
"I don't think you want to know," Ron replied as a loud boom resounded the building, followed by Mrs Weasley's shrill call.
"I doubt that they could pull anything off as elaborate as our prank," Sirius assured confidently. "They probably just went off sulking with their tails between their legs."
"I don't know, Padfoot," Remus countered with his eyebrow raised. "Those twins are quite formidable pranksters— they managed to turn you into a stuffed dog, after all. I would watch my back if I were you."
Sirius scoffed with a chuckle. "They learned all their best stuff from us; the masters are still the best." None of them heard a rapping at the window.
"Well, you just wait and see what happens, you—BUGGER!" Fred yelled as a loud thump was heard on the stairs. A mass of red hair began tumbling down the stairs, and a loud thud was audible with each successive drop, as was a different curse word each time Fred's head hit anything.
"Fred Weasley!" Mrs. Weasley yelled at the top of her lungs. "I heard each and every one of those!" George started laughing, as did everyone else.
"Did poor 'ickle Freddiekins bruise himself?" Sirius asked with mock sympathy.
"You made me do that!" Fred said harshly, rubbing his head.
"I did no such thing!" Sirius retorted.
"Oh, come on!" A huge fight erupted, mainly between the twins and Sirius. Remus stood there watching and smiling, though he did volunteer a few comments for both sides, to Sirius' chagrin.
"STOP!" Ginny yelled. Startled, everyone turned to look at her. She turned on her heel, walked to the window, opened it, and saw an official looking eagle owl standing expectantly on the ledge. Ron briefly noticed her signing something, and she accepted a box wrapped in brown paper from the post owl. Once relieved off the burden it carried, the owl hooted before stretching its large wings and taking off. Ginny took the package, smiling, and ran to her room.
After a few moments of silence, Hermione said, "That was…interesting…"
"Not as interesting as your face will be once I'm done with it," George said scathingly to Sirius. (Needless to say, the silence didn't last long.)
"Try me," Sirius countered with a taunting smirk plastered onto his face.
The twins instantly whipped out their wands with hexes on the tips of their lips. "FURNUNCULUS!" They cried furiously as one, but Sirius was too fast for them. Just as the identical streaks of light hit him, the Marauder held his wand before him with the steadiness of an Auror as the word, "Protego" flowed almost lazily from his lips. Fred and George watched with frustration clearly shown on their faces as their hexes reflected from Sirius's shield charm; they were about to utter another curse when Remus stepped between the three of them with his wand out, wearing a firm expression.
"Lower your wands; this is not the time for duelling." His tone, though quiet, held a sense of authority that commanded respect—soon Sirius, Fred, and George had pocketed their wands with sour expressions on their faces.
"Come on, Moony, you're supposed to be on my side. I was only trying to teach them a lesson," Sirius countered exasperatedly.
"He wouldn't have stopped us if he weren't on your side, Mr. Black." Fred spat."You should be thankful that he stopped us when he did."
"Stop it, all of you," reprimanded Remus. "You all agreed on a prank war to settle your differences, not a wizard duel."
Fred and George exchanged glances, before turning back to Sirius. "Very well, then. We shall be seeing you soon." As the twins made their way back to the doorway, Harry saw them surreptitiously drop something small and clear, which had been cleverly hidden in the sleeves of their identical robes, on the floor behind them. Whatever it was vanished soundlessly the instant it touched the wooden panelled floor, leaving no trace of its presence. Raising his eyebrow, Harry exchanged a confused glance with Hermione, who seemed to be the only other person to notice.
"You're not escaping that quickly!" Sirius exclaimed with a chuckle as he strode swiftly after their retreating figures. Half way across the room, he halted his progress in mid-step. Sirius looked behind him with a frown. "My foot seems to be stuck," he called out in frustration.
Ignoring the confused faces of the rest in the living room, Sirius placed his other foot firmly down onto wooden floorboards. His face contorted in dismay as he realised that now both feet were rendered immobile by the floor. "What is this?" he asked sceptically. With a gasp, he realised that his feet were slowly sinking into the floor, which took on the functional semblance of quicksand.
He acted quickly and attempted to pull his left foot out of the leg-swallowing floor, but no sooner had his ankle cleared the surface of the floor, than the floor seemed to take on a mind of its own and pulled his leg down to the knee. He glared around the room as he continued to attempt to wrest possession of his leg from the voracious flooring.
Extrication seemed impossible; the harder he tried to pull his legs out, the deeper they sank. Harry was rooted to where he stood as he helplessly watched his godfather sinking into the floor, but Hermione seemed ready to curse the floor into oblivion if it didn't give Sirius up. Ron had that look on his face clearly telling everyone else that he had nothing to do with it and he wanted nothing to do with it. Wishing that Mrs. Weasley were still around and able to do something about her wild floor, Sirius pulled out his wand.
"Finite Incantatem!" he shouted. Though a bright purple light flew from the tip of his wand and should have stopped the floor's consumption of his lower appendages, it continued to draw him into the depths below the house's foundation. "What's happening?" he cried desperately.
Suddenly, the unmistakable sounds of muffled laughter coming from the landing above him met his ears. Looking up, Sirius saw the identical smirks of Fred and George beaming down at him from the top stairway.
"Oh, it mustbe the sink hole under the house," drawled Fred smugly as they made their way down the stairs to inspect the results of their magical mischief
"YOU TWO!You did this!" Sirius exclaimed furiously and continued to struggle even harder as his face turned beet red, reminding Harry ominously of Uncle Vernon.
"You know, you're only going to sink even deeper if you thrash about like that," George commented offhandedly from the hallway.
"GET ME OUT!"
"Not until you concede who the real masters of pranks are."
"Never!" Sirius retorted angrily. "Moony, help me!"
Remus shook his head slightly in amusement, before stepping beside his friend. "Come on, Padfoot," he sighed, grabbing hold of Sirius's sinewy arm.
"Hurry up!"
"Calm down, Padfoot," Lupin responded simply as he proceeded to half-heartedly tug and pull Sirius's arm upward. "I'm doing what I can."
"Well, it's not very comfortable sitting in this gravitational pit, but by all means, just take your time," Sirius responded, with irritation and sarcasm dripping from his tone.
"Listen, Sirius," Lupin muttered softly so the twins couldn't hear from up the stairs, "if you show them you're angry, then you're letting them win."
"Well, I am angry," Sirius retorted heatedly, "and they're not winning anything."
"But you don't want them to know that," Lupin responded sensibly. "This is a battle of wits, you know."
"As enlightening as that is," exclaimed Sirius even angrier after Lupin's little lecture, "I am still stuck in the floor, in case you haven't noticed."
"Well, you must have gained some weight or something, because I can't get you out of here myself. Too many Pumpkin Pasties, I suppose."
"Wingardium leviosa," Hermione whipped out her wand as she fixed a determined stare at Sirius's distressing situation. Inch by inch, Sirius' lanky frame lifted out from within the floorboards, as he continued his struggle to release himself from the floor's grasp. Slowly but surely, Sirius floated up out of the ground, through the air, and back onto steady footing.
"Thanks, Hermione," Sirius uttered gratefully, while glaring darkly at Remus. "at least somebody knows how to do magic in this house."
"Um, you're welcome Sirius," she replied sheepishly. "Scourgify." And with a flick of her wand, the floor rippled slightly, before the small, clear, marble-like object that the twins had dropped reappeared.
Just as Harry picked up the orb, Mrs. Weasley stormed in as suddenly as if she had apparated, with her face contorted in frustration. "What is going on here?" she bellowed angrily at Fred and George. "What have you miscreants done to my house this time?"
"Nothing at all, mother," announced George innocently. "Look, everything is all in order." No one said anything to the contrary, and from what Harry conjectured, Sirius had wanted to keep the pranks just between him and the boys.
"Well, what was all the racket about?" Mrs. Weasley countered, seething like a sabre-toothed tiger. "If I find out anyone's having a row—"
"No one's arguing, mum," Fred continued slightly sarcastically. "We are just all excited to converse with the masters of magic themselves, Messrs. Black and Lupin." At this, he winked in their direction, without his mother's knowledge.
"You better all behave yourselves, then," Mrs. Weasley threatened venomously. "Speaking of behaviour, where has your sister gone off to? I thought she would be here enjoying the festivities."
"She received some sort of package and ran upstairs to her room," Harry answered, he being the only one who noticed.
"Oh, I see. Well, tell her to come down soon—I've just started dinner."
"I'll get her," offered George, who traipsed hurriedly out of the room, followed promptly by his twin.
"Those two," Mrs. Weasley hissed, watching their retreating backs with suspicion. "I'm surprised that the Burrow has lasted this long with all their antics."
Everyone else shared an amused look, before returning their gazes to the harried woman before them. "Is there anything we can help you with, Mrs. Weasley?" Harry asked politely.
"Oh, I'll be fine, Harry dear," Mrs. Weasley replied kindly, while a look of sympathy flashed across her eyes. "You do enough work with those horrible muggles you live with."
"It's really no trouble, Mrs. Weasley. I'm glad to help out here."
"Don't worry about it, dear. You just take a break, Harry," assured Mrs. Weasley as she turned to leave the room. "Ron, go get your brothers and sister tell them to come down and help me out— this dinner isn't just going to cook itself."
Harry glanced apologetically at Ron as the redhead groaned and left, stomping loudly upstairs in protest.
"Well, I suppose that that's our cue to leave too. We'll be right back; we have some things to discuss— isn't that right, Moony?" Sirius announced slyly, elbowing his friend.
"What? Oh yes, of course." Lupin replied hurriedly as he fixed his friend with an inquisitive stare.
"Have fun, you two," called Sirius as he dragged Remus out towards the back garden.
"So, what do you suppose we should do, Hermione?" Harry asked, feeling slightly down for the first time that day. "After all, Mrs. Weasley won't let us help her with dinner, and the Marauders seem to be up to something, again."
"Let's just go and see exactly what the Marauders are doing," Hermione suggested, glancing warily at Sirius's retreating back. "I don't want a repeat of anything dangerous like Fred and George's most recent prank."
"I don't think that Fred and George would have let the prank go dangerously awry," Harry mused thoughtfully as they stepped outside onto the veranda.
"I'm sure that they wouldn't do anything like that intentionally," Hermione conceded, "but you have to agree that they do tend to get out of hand at times. There is always a line present, and they've just crossed it too many times."
"Well, I'm sure that we can keep Sirius and Remus in line" Harry replied with a shrug.
"They better not do anything dangerous, or Mrs. Weasley will have all our heads," muttered Hermione darkly as she gazed across the lawn and into the setting sun.
"They are experienced wizards, you know, so I think we can trust them," Harry considered pensively.
"Yeah, but they're the Marauders," countered Hermione sternly.
"That's all the more reason to trust them, Hermione," Harry replied confidently. "They've done a lot of cool stuff, like turning into animagi, and inventing the Marauders' Map."
"While risking expulsion in the process—or worse—death," interrupted Hermione.
"Look, I'm not going to argue with you, Hermione, but you know you're just as curious as I am to see what prank they'll pull next—no matter how dangerous," Harry reasoned calmly, raising his eyebrow.
Hermione glared at him for a moment, but sighed, before acquiescing. "All right, let's go then."
Harry turned his gaze to the back garden before him, expecting to see the sea of grass that had greeted him before. The sight that met his eyes made his blink for a moment in incredulity.
"Correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't this garden retain some appearance of tidiness when we played Quidditch only a while ago?" he asked, staring out at the untamed wilderness that now stood before him.
"The garden must be in a bad mood," Hermione commented offhandedly, as if there was nothing unusual about this. "I read about something like this happening in Hogwarts, a History. It seems that gardens in the magical world are quite temperamental; if they are the slightest bit unsatisfied about anything, they become angry and get out of control. The result is what we see before us— be careful going through that, Harry, there'll be lots of debris strewn everywhere."
"Hmm. Maybe the garden gnomes got to it or something," Harry commented, still looking intently outwards, fascinated by the garden that looked as if it had never been traversed before.
They ventured along their mini odyssey through the Burrow's back garden, which seemed more like a jungle in all the tangled masses of undergrowth and misshapen clumps of exotic trees, shrubs, and bushes. As Harry tripped for the fifth time over another gnarled log hidden in the dense overgrown grasses, he caught a glimpse of an old, decrepit shed in the corner of the forest. The two of them headed towards the dilapidated orange wooden shed in the back of the yard. The ginger coloured paint had started to peel from the wooden panelled walls, and the rickety door stood crookedly in its rusty hinges, almost as if it would fall apart at any moment.
Harry snickered snidely "they could be in there, that's a great place to concoct mischief."
"Really now Harry," sneered Hermione sarcastically "I would have never thought of that."
"Well, let's go check it out," Harry suggested, standing on the doorstep of the ramshackle shack.
Harry tapped quietly on the entrance first to make sure he was welcome, before reaching down to the rusted doorknob and turning it. There was a loud bang from within, before silence greeted him once again. Hesitating slightly, Harry pushed open the door slowly in case a projectile came flying his way or some slimy liquid greeted him during his passage across the threshold. He stepped carefully inside, only to be greeted by a loud metallic clang, and only barely managed to dodge a huge splatter of what appeared to be green glop that had flung itself onto the wooden wall.
"What—" Harry began, turning his head around after examining the mess, only to be drenched by an equally large spatter of homemade ketchup. Literally seeing red, Harry sighed resignedly as he slowly detached his glasses from the bridge of his nose, and began a futile attempt to clean the sauce from its lenses using the corner of his shirt.
"Harry!" Sirius's surprised voice squeaked several octaves higher than normal. "I'm SO SORRY!" Several swift footsteps could be heard, until Harry felt a pair of hands briskly wiping off the largest globs of the sauce.
"What are you doing here, anyway?" Sirius asked nervously
"I think we could ask you the same thing," Hermione's voice retorted angrily as Harry saw her blurry form come up to him with her wand out. She gently took Harry's glasses from his grasp and muttered, "Scourgify," before returning them, now cleaned.
"What are you doing with that, anyways?" Harry asked as he took out his wand and muttered Hermione's cleaning charm on himself, still miffed at being the unintentional target of his godfather's newest prank.
"Well…" Sirius began after nervously clearing his throat. "We were doing some last minute experimenting…but don't worry, you'll have your original hair colour back in no time, Harry."
Harry nervously fingered his fringe, and looking up, he saw to his horror that his raven black locks were now the colour of bright tomato red. "Great, at least now I fit in more with the Weasleys."
Hermione gaped incredulously for a few seconds before asking with a disapproving voice, "Where's Prof—Remus?"
"Well, he left after being accidentally splattered. I'm sure he's—"
They never managed to find out exactly what he was, because at that moment, the said professor unceremoniously burst into the shed, sporting a head of electric blue hair.
"Quick, you need to transform, Padfoot. There are Aurors here!"
"What!" Sirius sputtered in incredulity. "How could they have known?"
"There's no time for speculation. CHANGE NOW!"
The grim-like dog appeared just as the door swung open a third time, revealing the identical gasping forms of Fred and George.
"Help us!" George exclaimed.
"The Aurors are asking for our names and we need a place to hide!" Fred continued frantically.
The two of them sprinted across the room and ducked behind Sirius's catapult launcher.
"Nice hair by the way!" exclaimed George from behind the catapult in a sing-song tone.
"Don't push it, I know where you're hiding you know! And that valuable information just might slip!" replied Lupin in a reprimanding tone.
"FRED! GEORGE!" they all heard Mrs. Weasley yell from the porch.
"Oh, just wait here a second and make yourselves comfortable while I go and find them." Mrs. Weasley's voice carried across the lawn as she approached the shed.
"Do you think she'll see us?" whispered George.
"No, I think we're fine here."
"FRED! GET OUT FROM BEHIND THAT CATAPULT!" Mrs. Weasley yelled as she came in, with the Aurors in tow. The Weasley matriarch stalked towards the twins and pulled Fred and George out by their ears.
"Look at what you two have done now!" she bellowed in her sabre-tooth tiger mode, ignoring their protests.
"Mr. Fred and George Weasley, we are here to escort you to the Ministry to answer allegations of improper use of magic and ludicrous patents," the female Auror stated curtly in a nasal voice as she held out an official looking piece of parchment, sneaking curious glances at Sirius's animagus form. Her hooded partner flexed his muscles menacingly with his wand tightly clutched in his balled fists, and Harry could feel the Auror's hidden features glare at his godfather as the burly man turned to face the dark-haired dog slinking in the corner.
"There has to be a logical explanation to this," Remus began in defence. "I'm sure they would never have broken any rules."
"Sorry, Professor Lupin, but we have our orders," the Ministry witch countered stonily, her eyebrows raised as she took in his electric blue hair. Her partner leered ominously at her and approached with heavy footsteps towards the twins.
"Wait!" cried George desperately.
"Mum, you've got to believe us!" Fred exclaimed pleadingly.
"We didn't do anything, mum!" George continued, looking more agitated than Harry had ever seen him.
"You know that all our jokes are innocent in nature—"
"—There has to be some mistake!"
"You've got to help us!"
"We haven't done anything illegal—"
"WE SWEAR!"
"You have the right to remain silent," the female Auror interjected sharply before casting a silencing charm on both of the twins. Her partner placed a weighty hand on each of the twins' shoulders and made to escort them out of the shed. Harry glanced quickly at Mrs. Weasley, expecting her to rush to her sons' aid. Instead, he was greeted by the sight of an unreadable expression on her face, and he could tell that she was barely suppressing the quivering of her body.
Remus must have noticed her inaction as well, as he stepped forward once more in the twin's defence. "I think these actions are uncalled for, Auror McMillan," he stated firmly as his eyes flitted briefly to the silver badge pinned securely on the witch's robes. "What evidence have you against these two?"
"That's none of your concern," the male Auror stated through gritted teeth before being hushed by his partner. Lupin's eyes widened considerably as he glanced quickly between the Aurors and Mrs. Weasley in incredulity.
"Perhaps we should take this dog with us as well," the female Auror commented offhandedly to Harry's horror as she placed a restraining hand on whimpering canine to prevent his escape. "I don't think you've had it registered, yet, have you, Professor?"
"You can't do that!" Harry blurted indignantly, causing all eyes to turn on him. "You can't just come barging in here and start carting everyone off on sight! You don't even have a good reason for taking Fred and George!"
The Aurors exchanged a quick glance, before the slim witch stated seriously, "we have received intelligence that these three have been engaging in a prank war." She paused, glaring pointedly at each of the pranksters—including Sirius, to everyone's alarmed astonishment. "My source also tells me that these pranks have been wreaking havoc on the Burrow."
"We arrest all three of you on the grounds of exasperating Mrs. Weasley to no end," The gruff wizard announced as he removed his hood to reveal the highly amused face of Kingsley Shackleblot.
"You may consider yourself officially pranked," concluded the female Auror, before her visage morphed into the smiling features of Nymphadora Tonks, complete with a head of spiked lime-green hair.
"TONKS!" Sirius bellowed as soon as he returned to his human form. "YOU NEARLY GAVE ME A HEART ATTACK!"
Harry burst into laughter along with the rest of the room at the sight of his godfather's bulging eyes as he took his fellow members from the Order of the Phoenix.
"Nice hair, by the way, Remus," Tonks continued with a wink in his direction, calmly ignoring his Sirius's outburst before turning to Harry. "Harry I know you consider the Weasleys family, but don't you think matching their hair colour is a bit much? Not that I don't like the change in style, of course."
Harry felt himself redden and averted his gaze, surveying his godfather's mildly indignant expression due to his earlier bout of shock.
"Well, I think the winner of this prank war is obvious," commented Remus with a chortle. "You had all of us completely fooled, Molly."
"It wasn't funny!" Sirius exclaimed with a pout.
"It was hilarious, Sirius!" Harry exclaimed, trying in vain to control his mirth.
"Come on, Padfoot, you're just angry that you got beaten so completely," Lupin commented truthfully.
"Yeah, you even beat us, mum!" Fred proclaimed fervently with awe. "Now we know where we got our talent!"
"Well, I hope you three have learned your lesson," Mrs. Weasley accosted in a stern voice as she steered the twins out of the shed, though the smile on her face and the twinkle in her eyes betrayed her amusement. "And now that we've had enough excitement to last us the rest of the year, I think that it's time for dinner."
"Sorry to interrupt your plans, Molly but there's something we'd like to discuss with you and Arthur," Kingsley uttered, with a solemn undertone clearly evident in his voice.
"Well, I think that we should take our leave now to your order business, then," Lupin remarked. "We wouldn't want to impose any further on your kindness."
"Nonsense, Remus," Mrs. Weasley countered with a wave of her hand, "It's no trouble at all having you here. The least I can is help you and Harry get rid of that ghastly hair dye. Now come along, all of you back to the house so we can start on supper."
"Here we are, now," Mrs. Weasley commented to Harry after she pulled Lupin and him into the kitchen, sliding a small oak box from her pantry shelf. "I know just the thing that'll fix your hair for you." She withdrew her wand from beneath the folds of her robes and tapped the lid once, causing it to pop open. Then, tucking her wand behind her ear, Mrs. Weasley proceeded to rummage through the contents as the sound of clinking glass met Harry's ears.
"Aha!" She exclaimed triumphantly as she extracted a small bottle of thick dark green gel-like liquid full of lumps and air bubbles. "It's Gilderoy Lockhart's personal hair treatment formula, especially made to deep clean down to the roots."
Harry took the bottle into his hands with a wary expression and glanced at Remus with a raised eyebrow, only to see him mock gagging silently behind the Weasley matriarch's back. "Are you sure this is going to work?"
"Of course it will, dear," Mrs. Weasley assured almost shocked that Harry would question a Lockhart product. "Gilderoy Lockhart himself brewed it, didn't he? And I've tried it myself after the twins pulled a similar stunt on me a few years back."
"I suppose I could give it a try," Harry muttered in reply. "What's the worst that could happen?"
"You might have to change your surname to Weasley, with their family rubbing off on you so much," Remus commented with a wry smile. "You go and wash that off first, then I'll wash off my hair."
"You can use the bathroom upstairs, dear," Mrs. Weasley called out as Harry made to leave the room.
"Where are you going off with that?" George asked as he spotted Harry heading up the stairs.
"Your mum gave me something that'll wash off this hair colour," Harry replied, pointing at his scarlet mane. "As much as I enjoy fitting with your family, I think I miss my black crow's nest, thanks."
"Suit yourself," George replied, heading into the living room to join the others. "That colour looks good on you, mate."
Harry shook his head with an exasperated sigh and resumed his trip to the bathroom.
"So what exactly is in this 'hair treatment formula' anyway, Molly?" Remus asked curiously just as the other members of the Order of the Phoenix filed into the room.
"Well, I'm not sure of the full list, since it's been a while since I last used it, and I didn't really commit the ingredients on the label to memory. I believe one of the active ingredients is dittany."
"Dittany?" Sirius asked curiously as he approached his fellow Marauder's side. "Do you remember what dittany did to Prongs on the day he missed that Quidditch match against Slytherin in our fifth year?"
"James Potter skipped a Quidditch match?" Tonks asked incredulously. "What in Merlin's beard could have caused that upheaval?"
"Did you have to tie him to a chair?" Kingsley asked jokingly. "No, I suppose even that wouldn't have worked— he would have probably either torn himself free with sheer determination or would have been on that broomstick even with the chair still attached."
"He was out cold that entire day, I remember, from that potions project on dittany he had to do for Professor Jigger," Remus recalled with a slight crease forming on his brow.
"That was the only time that James had ever missed a match," Sirius, oblivious to Remus's clouded expression. "We had found him on the floor in the boy's common room the morning of, and Madam Pomfrey wouldn't let him out of the Hospital wing for a week afterwards."
"Wait a minute," Remus began with dread starting to form on his features. "You don't think—"
A soft thump could be heard from above, and the two Marauders stiffened. "Harry!" they cried in unison before scrambling to exit the kitchen, knocking a mystified Kingsley onto the floor.
000
Harry slipped the bathroom door closed with a quiet click, glad for the brief respite from the bustle of the rest of the day. "This is turning out to be some birthday," he muttered with a faint smile on his face.
"Oh, good heavens, dear!" a wheezy voice exclaimed suddenly, startling Harry from his brief reverie. "What happened to your hair?"
Harry turned in the direction of the voice, and found its owner to be a very old and slightly cracked mirror. The haphazardly polished metal was flaking in many parts, and the state of the glass seemed to beyond the aid of a mere reparo spell.
"My godfather happened to it," Harry responded wryly, before refocusing his attention on the bottle in his hands.
"I suppose Molly has given you something that'll help," the mirror stated in a haughty air.
"Yes, I hope so," Harry mused. "Mrs. Weasley said the potion had worked when she had used it on herself, but I have to take into account that Gilderoy Lockhart made it."
The mirror looked so appalled in reaction to his answer that Harry thought it would have been better to remain silent. "I think you're mixing up your words, boy. A Lockhart product should be extra assurance to you, boy. Great man, Lockhart is, with all of his good deeds for wizard-kind, and I've heard only good things about his products."
Harry bit back the remark that the "great man" was in fact an absolute fraud, and instead turned to read the directions of use that were hand written in multicoloured ink with his former professor's own loopy and extravagant script:
As always with a Lockhart product, even Squibs and those with the basest of educations may enjoy the benefits of this bedazzling brew—the instructions are quick and easy to understand.
Hydrate hair sufficiently with chilled tap, mineral, or purified water. Apply a copious measure of Gilderoy Lockhart's Personal Hair Treatment Formula™ to scalp and massage into strands from follicle to tip. Allow concoction to linger 5 minutes or until tingling sensation is experienced. Re-hydrate to disperse Gilderoy Lockhart's Personal Hair Treatment Formula™ from scalp.Below this was a message scrawled in tiny and almost illegible chicken scratch:
Note: If burning sensation occurs, discontinue use immediately. Gilderoy Lockhart is not responsible for any harm or permanent disability that may arise directly or indirectly related to the application of this product. Please use at your own discretion. Have a nice day!
Harry shuddered as he finished reading the note, Lockhart's annoying voice reading the message to him as he glanced over the directions and disclaimer. 'Easy to understand, indeed,' he thought darkly to himself as he rolled his eyes. 'The only thing "easier" to understand than that is a runes text—honestly, you'd need to carry around a dictionary to comprehend everything that man's babbling about.'
With an exasperated sigh, Harry turned on the tap water in the sink, placed his glasses onto the counter, and stuck his head into the running water. 'Better get this over with; I've already wasted too much time.'
Once his mop of hair was suitably drenched, Harry straightened up once again and glanced at his blurry reflection. The water had finally tamed his wild locks when profuse amounts of brushing had failed, and his tangled mass of tresses lay in two clumps, firmly stuck to either side of his skull. 'Great, now I look like I have an ink splotch on my head.'
The mirror seemed to be thinking along the same lines, but after seeing Harry's long face, it put forward helpfully "Well, at least it doesn't look like you just got out of bed anymore."
Uncorking the potion bottle, Harry poured out a handful of the viscous glop, suppressing a shudder at its cold and slimy feel that reminded him of the gillyweed he used in his 4th year. The dark green smelling substance that retained the almost overpowering scent of lilac frothed and hissed loudly as it bubbled on his palm, almost as if it were alive and trying to communicate through Parseltongue. Without further hesitation, Harry smacked his potion laden hand onto his scalp, and began to spread the concoction through his hair.
"So far so good," Harry mused as he briefly brought his hand down to eyelevel and saw that some of the red dye had already started to come off. He was about to continue, when the tingling sensation he had been feeling since he had started applying the potion escalated into a slight burning on both his palms and his head.
Slightly concerned, Harry washed off the potion from his hands to reveal a rather large rash forming on his palms, causing his hands and arms to redden at an alarming rate. 'I think I spoke too soon," he reflected sardonically as he hurried to wash off the rest of the potion from his hair.
As he stooped down to dip his head back into the sink, a sharp pain suddenly attacked his abdomen, causing his knees to buckle and sending his chin slamming hard into porcelain. 'What's happening?' Harry thought frantically in his slumped position, the copper taste of blood in his mouth from a bleeding tongue as he clutched his stomach with one hand and struggled to switch on the tap with the other.
Another surge of pain wrestled a whimper from Harry's lips as he reeled forward, desperately panting for breath. Gasps turned to wheezes as he felt his lungs burn with inner fire and his throat close up in a strangling choke. Growing dark spots danced into his vision as he struggled to utter a cry, bringing his hand to his neck in an attempt to break away from his invisible assailant. No sound escaped from him as his air passage completely closed up, giving Harry the odd sensation of drowning under water; no amount of heaving could draw precious oxygen into his lungs. 'This isn't good,' Harry thought dryly before his eyes rolled up into his skull and he gave himself to the lurking blackness.
