Ok, more randomness, but trust me, I'm working on it. Right guys, a few questions now. Firstly, I need you guys to tell me some stuff.
Which day of the week would you rather I post? (seems trivial, but would help a lot). You have an option of Monday, Tuesday. Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday or Sunday, funnily enough!
Other questions, chapter length. I've been wondering/worrying about the length of my chapters. Too long, middleish, or too short? Comments would be welcome on this, please?! Thank you, you wonderful people! I'm taking your silence to mean you will, by the way.
Oh, and I would also like to ask if anyone ever bothers with these, and whether you want me to continue or not, cos if you all join together and say to stuff off and let me read this in peace, I won't bother. Whatever.
Disclaimers and warnings stand as usual (as if they wouldn't!).
Ah, the story. Now, this chapter had several titles, though they may give it away a little. As you see below, this is Chapter 7, A Little Trip to 4 Privet Drive, also titled Why Not To Cross A Wizard. My own, preferred little title (ok, maybe not so little) was A Trip to Privet Drive, In Which We Learn Why To Not Cross A Wizard, Particularly A Marauder And Friend Of The Weasley Twins and The Only Man Voldemort Ever Feared. Somehow, I thought this was a tad long, so I left it as it is. Hope you like it, especially those of you who wanted to see the 'come uppance'. I apologise if you wanted gory violence, pain and destruction; I was going to do that, then realised that Albus and Remus wouldn't go in for that sort of thing, so this is the end result. Enjoy!
Chapter 7. A Little Trip to 4 Privet Drive or Why not to cross a wizard.
It was a cold, wet day in 4 Privet Drive. The rain drizzled miserably at the windows, and hung in the air like fine threads. The pavement was just beginning to become slick underfoot, and the wind blew the trees and bushes strongly, the cold sending shivers down the skin of anyone who dared set foot outside. Even the sky seemed to suggest disinterest – it was a dull, indifferent cloudy grey.
You wouldn't have guessed it was the weekend, when usually, families flew out of the suburbs into the countryside to escape the dullness of their environment, or, in the case of school kids, to escape their piles of homework.
Even the thought that 'that Potter boy' wasn't here to 'bully' them and 'harass' them didn't encourage the bored and depressed children outside. But then, there was maybe something, a suggestion of something rather, in the air, that seemed to suggest to them to not venture beyond their doors.
And so, Privet Drive remained deserted. Even Petunia had given up from her pastime of watching the neighbours (as there were no neighbours to watch) and was reverting to her other common hobby – Dudley doting. Currently, however, the half-man, half-whale had pushed his homework away from him, and was whining at his mother to complete it for him. The other occupant of the house, Vernon (full-whale), disgruntled by being unable to polish his car, was sitting reading a motoring magazine, screwing his face up at the longer words. 'That', 'it', and 'have', for instance.
If she had been more aware, Petunia, with her long neck and beady eyes, might've noticed the two men walking quickly through the rain towards her house. And, as they drew closer, she might've noticed, with some panic and fear, that the rain didn't seem to touch the glasses on the older man's nose. In fact, his long swirling robes might've given her some clue, and she might've had the sense to run away. But she didn't, she was more engrossed in the task of answering question two on her 'Dinky Diddikins' homework – "Name all of the planets in our solar system."
The first time they were aware of their two visitors, was when there was a loud knock on the door. Vernon, almost relieved, dropping his magazine, waddled to the door impatiently, but was immediately blown back into the hall, as a burst of light knocked him into the stairs, screaming.
Dudley was almost on his feet, covering his shrieking mother with his body unknowingly, when the two entered the front room, the younger of the two levitating the protesting and terrified Vernon Dursley before him, dropping him unceremoniously to the floor. Both of the two men had their wands out, the younger mans' pointed at Vernon, the older, white-bearded mans' pointed at Petunia and Dudley, his bright blue eyes glaring ferociously, and light by some unknown power. In fact, the man slightly behind him looked no less terrifying, his glowing amber eyes looking inhuman as he schooled the cold fury on his face, refraining from lunging at the filth before him.
"Petunia. Never, in my whole life, have I ever been more disappointed, infuriated, disgusted and ashamed." Albus Dumbledore spoke slowly, clearly, and coldly, eyes flashing as he silenced the family with a glare. He hated using force and pain on people, but felt that this situation certainly bore the idea some merit.
"I left him in your care. I left him here for fifteen years. Fifteen years!" He shouted the last part, and even Remus, behind his mask,, jumped slightly to hear the benign old man raise his voice. No one had ever heard him so angry, or beheld a man so good, yet wanting to cause pain. Only Voldemort could inspire this in this man, considered the greatest wizard of the century. Only Voldemort, and of course a certain family of wizard-hating muggles that surrounded him.
"Fifteen years, and all this time, this was how you treated him." A small silver tear crept to the edge of his eye, but he blinked it back. Now was not the time for shame and pity.
"He had it coming to him, the little freak!" yelled Vernon suddenly, causing Remus to turn to him, flicking a small spell out of his wand so that the cowering man was lifted into the air. He was red in the face, angry, terrified, and disgusted all at the same time, and now he was at their mercy. At Dumbledore's short nod, Remus smiled, almost craftily, showing white, feral teeth.
"I bet you didn't know, did you, Dursley, that Harry is my godson. And, as such, I am going to see you suffer." He watched the colour drain from the beefy mans face, and continued, almost speaking to himself. "Shame it's not full moon, werewolves are particularly strong at full moon, and trust me, you wouldn't want to see an angry werewolf." He stopped for a moment, almost looking comical as he sarcastically scratched his chin with his free hand. "Oh, wait, too late."
As this information trickled into Vernon's' mind, and he realised that the man in front of him, pointing a wand at him, playing with him was in fact a werewolf, he bit down on his disgust for the first time in his life, and remained silent. He didn't even whimper, though he flinched, when the wand was thrust into his face, and a quick spell was muttered, transit mus muris. Petunia and Dudley watched in horror as Vernon seemed to shrink, and contort slightly, mousy brown fur spurting out of his skin, a long, worm like tail growing out of his rear, and, in a few seconds, stood agape, staring at their father/husband turned rat.
"I never liked rats." Said Remus conversationally, looking at Dumbledore, as the old man seemed to appraise the transfiguration. He lifted his wand again at the squealing and squirming rat, and clearly said, stupefy. The rat fell backwards, and lay, not moving on the floor. Petunia screamed loudly, and Remus thanked Merlin that they had thought to place silencing charms on the house, then wincing and cursing his enhanced werewolf ears as the high-pitched sound echoed through his skull.
Dumbledore quickly dealt with the screeching woman and her son with two fast stupefys, letting the bodies hit the floor and the table without worry. Reluctantly, Remus transfigured the rat back into the large, stunned man, but Dumbledore didn't mention anything when Remus placed a few kicks to the prone figure, or the odd embarrassing hex. Just as he was running through his repertoire of painful curses, Albus coughed to get his attention.
"We must be moving on, I think Remus. As much as I would like to show these people just how angry wizards can get, we do have a plan to keep to." Though he said 'people', the very was he said it implied that he wanted to use a much stronger word, but was refraining in his usual manner. Remus nodded, but couldn't resist a few last minute curses, before they set up the 'plan'.
After setting up the timed enervate device, Remus and Albus walked quickly out of 4 Privet Drive, closing the door behind them, and leaving a neatly written note on the doorstep. It was still drizzling, but heavier, as setting up the plan took quite a while and it was now late. As they turned the corner at the end of the road, there were two identical 'pop's, and they disappeared, never to return.
The note, emerald ink shining clearly on the parchment bore the single word, the name 'Dursleys'.
"I am sure you are quite aware of the meaning behind our actions. You should also be aware that this is merely a taste. You will pay for what you have done, one wizard hurt is all wizards hurt, one wizard angered is all of us angered. Petunia, you were warned. We will not return, do not try to approach us.
Have fun."
When the Dursleys awoke, some fifteen minutes later, they were surprised to find themselves apparently unhurt, normal, and the mysterious wizards gone. Vernons' legendary face changed colours faster than traffic lights; white, to green, to red, to purple.
"Why those freakish upstarts! How dare they intimidate me and my family! Coming in here, waving those, those wands around, doing freak-things, thinking they're better than us! I should ring the police, they'd soon sort out their kind!"
"No, Vernon! Don't" cried Petunia suddenly, her face white, her hands shaking. "You don't know what they can do, what that man can do!" Vernon regarded his wife for a second, then dismissed her. Dudley was pale and shaking, hands clutched firmly over his wide bottom as if to reassure himself he was tail-less.
Vernon opened his mouth to continue his rant, moustache bristling furiously now danger was far away (at least, he thought so), but before he could speak, there was a loud knock at the door. Vernon's face changed colour again that would've reminded anyone of Tonks and her ability, and he stood rigid. Dudley finally gave out a squeal, and waddled as fast as he could up the stairs, slamming the door shut behind him, and, judging by the sounds of heavy scraping and pants of exertion, blockaded it. Even Petunia scurried off into the kitchen and shut the door behind her.
Vernon had just decided to ignore the door, when whoever it was knocked again. Shaking his head, he sat back down heavily onto his armchair, and picked up his magazine, presumably with the intention of reading it. It was upside down.
The knock sounded again. Vernon's moustache twitched. Silence echoed throughout the house, save for the solitary ticking of a clock on the wall.
They knocked for the third time, and, patience worn thin, Vernon stood, threw aside the magazine, stormed out the room and into the hall, grabbed Dudleys' Smeltings stick from the stand, and tore open the door. There was no one outside, and the open door let the cold drizzle blow in, settling on his clothes damply. Just as he was about to slam the door shut, he noticed the letter, unaffected by the weather, and addressed in emerald ink. Looking around suspiciously, he snatched up the parchment, and turned back into the house, closing the door forcefully behind him.
Back in the living room, he forced open the letter, quickly (for him that is) read the words, and, moustache bristling nineteen to the dozen, fumed. How DARE they?!?!
However, his temper was short lived, as the writing on the parchment dissolved quickly, the letters curling smoke like, as if they were burning, and not the parchment. In it's place, a window appeared, and grew to fill the page. He watched, horrified. The paper seemed to be stuck to his hands. Colours were swirling in the window, taking form…
On the back of the parchment, in tiny violet and orange glowing letters, there read.
"Weasleys Wizard Wheezes are proud to present, the Nightmare mirror, for your Executive torturing needs."
The next morning, Vernon was still pale and fuming; Petunia prepared the meal in mute silence, Dudley didn't even complain at the 'small' amount of food on his plate – eight sausages, ten rashes of bacon, a mound of mushrooms, and a pile of fried eggs. He ate it in stoic silence, observing the quick, worried glances his mother threw his father across the table.
He roughly cut a large piece out of his first sizzling, hot sausage, and forced it into his large, gaping mouth. He chewed. He licked his lips. He chewed again. And then, precisely five seconds after swallowing the gigantic bite, and with a large, comical honking noise, disappeared. Or at least, it appeared he had disappeared. The effect on the family was dramatic – Vernon staggered back and bellowed, spitting out his mouthful of food and inadvertently knocking over the table, sending it crashing to the floor, Petunia shrieked, her bony arms flailing over her head, her face a picture of horror.
On closer inspection of the large, sagging chair Dudley had previously sat on, was occupied by a tiny, three-inch tall figure. Dudley the tiny. Dudley, the inexplicably thin. Somehow, the transfiguration potion contained in the salt Dudley had carelessly tossed liberally over his food, had taken his previous girth, decided these proportions were unnaturally large, and converted it into something more appropriate. Thankfully to the now miniature Dudley Dursley, his clothes had been included in the magic, and had shrunk to his height. Unfortunately, they kept the same dimensions as before. His jumper and shirt sagged around his now average frame, and his trousers lay in a tiny puddle around his feet.
It took Dudley fifteen minutes to scream loudly enough for his parents to hear him. After getting over the shock of their beloved son disappearing, then being shrunk, Petunia picked up her son and carried him to the living room, placing him on the sofa, where he hitched up his trousers belatedly. Vernon was about to explode again, his face reflecting his thoughts like an over zealous mood ring. However, he showed extreme amounts of self-control, and managed not to break anything. At least, until he picked up his shaver in the bathroom, which promptly turned into a rubber chicken with a loud sqwark!
Some time later, after Dudley had regained his usual height and was sitting in the living room in front of the TV. while his mother adapted his clothes to fit better (he had somehow managed to keep his thinner frame due to the random nature of magic, and Petunia, fretting that the neighbours would notice her sons sudden weight loss was currently dreaming of a magic-free holiday in Spain), Vernon was in the back garden, attempting to burn anything that he thought 'magic-related'. Unfortunately as cutlery and crockery don't burn very well, he was finding this extremely difficult, and had succeeded in making the neighbours stare at his antics. It was as he vainly held his cigarette lighter to Dudley's fork, that he noticed the first rat.
It was small, and brown, and decidedly ratty. Much like he had been the day before, he thought uncomfortably, twitching slightly around his rear, where the tail had been. It stopped dead in the middle of his wonderfully kept lawn, stood up on it's hind legs, sniffed the air, and stared at him. It seemed very intelligent in one stare, and Vernon felt slightly dense under its superior gaze. He watched with amazed and horrified fascination as it fell back to four legs, turned its head briefly to the hedge, and ran across the rest of the lawn, reached the side of the house, scurried up the drainpipe, used its tail to swing across to the kitchen windowsill, and slipped through an open window, its tail flicking over the frame.
It was the rumble, as if of thunder, though sounding more like the pattering of millions of tiny feet that next drew Uncle Vernon from his work. He looked up with a grunt, then froze, his face paling rapidly and his eyes widening. Through the hedge, over the hedge, down the street, up the drains, everywhere he could see, there were rats. Millions and millions of rats. Brown rats, black rats, grey rats, old rats, young rats, male rats, female rats, rats with feet missing (but no Pettigrews'), tail-less rats, big rats, small rats. In fact, every sort of rat you could ever think of. There was even the odd mouse.
The torrent of rodents flowed like a river from everywhere, and as he watched, they all ran towards his house. It was like the Pied Piper of Hamlin.
"You heard as if an army muttered;
And the muttering grew to a grumbling;
And the grumbling grew to a mighty rumbling;
And out of the houses the rats came tumbling.
Great rats, small rats, lean rats, brawny rats,
Brown rats, black rats, grey rats, tawny rats,
Grave old plodders, gay young friskers,
Fathers, mothers, uncles, cousins,
Cocking tails and pricking whiskers,
Families by tens and dozens,
Brothers, sisters, husbands, wives."
They ran, or rather flowed into 4 Privet Drive, crashing on the walls like water on rocks. They tumbled over one another, climbing each other's backs in their haste. Tails flicked, whiskers twitched, bodies squeezed, paws pattered, snouts squeaked. And Vernon fainted.
The already shocked, amazed and amused neighbours, and people who had just been passing by when they saw the rat-river and followed it heard the shrieking from the front room as Petunia and Dudley saw the rats. Before long, the living room was knee deep in them, and still they pored in from every available entrance. Dudley and Petunia clung to each other as the 'rat-level' rose, and their shrieking brought some amused smiles to their neighbours faces, especially the ones that had got on the wrong side of them.
And three men, one old with a long white beard and twinkling, spectacled blue eyes, one with greasy black hair and onyx eyes, and one tired man with amber eyes and grey spotted brown hair, watched too. They were smiling, in an almost identical grim manner, but when spectators asked themselves later where the three men had gone, it seemed they had disappeared. But some close to them when they were there, right in front of the rat-house, heard their quiet words.
"I hear the Weasley twins did this on special order. A most astounding achievement. I myself have never seen such a wonderful adaptation of the Pied Piper charms."
"Yes, well, those twins have always had a rather large amount of what Minerva terms 'sheer dumb luck'."
"Now, Severus, you should give credit where it's due. And to Remus, where I presume they got the ideas?"
"Of course. You must remember, in sixth year, and the Transfiguration classroom? That was always a favourite of James'."
"How could we forget? I remember you had to do several weeks of detention to clean it out properly. And it was months before the smell-"
"Gentlemen? I feel we must be returning. Our young friend will be needing us, you in particular, Remus."
"Of course, Albus."
Rats!
They fought the dogs and killed the cats,
And bit the babies in the cradles,
And ate the cheeses out of the vats,
And licked the soup from the cooks' own ladles,
Split open the kegs of salted sprats,
Made nests inside men's Sunday hats,
And even spoiled the women's chats,
By drowning their speaking
With shrieking and squeaking
In fifty different sharps and flats.
-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-
turn into a rat, basically.
EXTRA DISCLAIMER:- HP is not mine (sigh), and unfortunately, neither is the nifty 'Pied Pier of Hamlin' by Robert Browning. An awfully good read, even if it is better read aloud. And I just loved the rat descriptions!
Review ResponsesJeff Higgs – Thanks, here you go! Hope you like it.
AngelinaWeasley1 – Thanks, but Nice!Snape is here to stay, at least in this fic. Maybe I'll do one later that will have more IC Snape. However, there won't be too much of him in this, (only when I feel like I need a change, or for a bit of the elusive plotline) because I don't really see him in this story much. It's mainly focused on Harry, Hermione, Ron, Remus, Dumbledore, etc.
LarcolTydol – Cool name! I'm afraid I'm not very read on law at the moment, and will do this as it seems right. After all, wizarding law may differ from ours. I hope you liked the treatment of the Dursleys, they will get more, legal problems later, but I felt that Dumbledore would want to do something. Harry will have more personal problems (I mean, he should do to be believable), and it's coming up as fast as I can type it. Harry will find out about this later, trust me. Hope you liked it!
Mr Blader X – Faithful reviewer! I hope you liked this chapter, a little side tracked from the usual story, but necessary nonetheless. Ah, the Weasley twins. So useful, especially on commission!
BlackRose – More is coming, I promise, though (and I hate to admit this!) I need a little help on the RW/LB, as I've never written it before. Therefore suggestions would be great! - And this is going to be continued if it kills me (which I hope it won't as I have several, ok, millions of other ideas to write about!). PS: HP/HrG is here to stay!
333,halfevil - OK! Hope you're not so bored now!
Thank you everybody, and good night! And thank you.
FireOpal
PS: - Ok, good day or whatever.
P.P.S. Please, children, no looking at this fic and getting ideas. I want no flamers complaining that after reading this, their doting children/friends/spouses have either a) tried to turn them into a rat, b) tried to shrink themselves by piling salt onto their food, c) pick up their daddy's best shaver and try to turn it into a rubber chicken or the like, or d) found as many rats as they can and dropped them into mummy's bedroom. Thank you.