Disclaimer: I always forget about these things. Neither Harry, Ron, Hermione, Tom or Mrs. Weasley are my characters. They belong to JKR. However, the manager and the shop assistant are mine, I control their little lives to the nth degree. The plot is also mine, as I don't think anyone else wants it.
A Friend In Need Is Best Avoided
Hermione knelt down and peered underneath the table as well. The sight that greeted her eyes was quite disturbing. Ron, frothing at the mouth with…what looked like red felt tip pen, was shuffling slowly backwards from the word 'Drool', which had wandered into a stack of Potions textbooks, stubbed one of its many toes, and had kicked the pile down. It was now sniffing the air, and turned slowly, like a shark, until it was, presumably, face to face with Ron. Unless it was considering an attack from the rear.
"No…no…don't hurt me! Please! I'll…I'll wash you…I'll…" he shuddered "I'll even sew you back onto the T-shirt! Or at least get mum to do it! Please!"
Hermione shook her head. Ron had broken out in excessive punctuation.
There was no hope for him now.
At this point, a shop assistant hurried into view. "And what exactly do you think you are doing? Get out from under that table! Now!" Ron shot out backwards, almost knocking the assistant over, the word 'Drool' now clinging to his trouser leg with tiny, needle-sharp teeth. Ron looked up, and the assistant, seeing the eyes of one truly going insane, backed off, muttering to Harry and Hermione, "Look, just get him out of here…you don't have to pay for damages, just…just get him away from me!"
Harry and Hermione each grabbed one of Ron's arms and dragged him out into the street, amused onlookers watching as Harry beat the word 'Drool' off Ron's trouser leg, which it was slowly eating, having now expanded to about an A5 size, and stamped on it, kicking it down the drain. It's ensuing adventures, including joining the Navy (it lied about its height) and once saving its shipmates from a giant ant, are another story. One which you will not be reading here.
Ron turned wild eyes onto Hermione, giggling insanely. It didn't take much to make Ron tip over the edge. "It's like you said! The penny was lucky! And I didn't pick it up and now I'm going to have bad luck for ever and ever and ever and eve…" Hermione slapped him round the face at this point. "Sorry, Ron, but if you'd carried on you'd have started saying things like 'Okely dokely', and then we'd have had to quarantine you."
She pulled out her wand, and, while Ron looked at it apprehensively, she cast a spell, 'Cogerit insanire' on him. Ron's insane expression disappeared, the inky red froth around his mouth dried up and vanished, and he stopped giggling.
"Ok, that's better. Ron? How are you feeling?"
"Why yes, Mr. Teaspoon, we bought some bread just next week."
"Um…" Hermione glanced at her wand. "I think I got the wrong spell…yeah, that was the insanity one…damn, what's the other one…"
Indeed, Ron was so past the line of sanity that he couldn't even see the line, and was now sculling about contentedly in the little pool of the pink clouds of the happily insane.
Harry shrugged. "Doesn't seem much different to me. Come on, we'll be late meeting Mrs. Weasley." They walked off, Ron trailing behind giggling at shops, cobbles, people wearing robes and just about everything else.
"There you are, dears! I thought you'd forgotten! Come on, we're Flooing back from the Leaky Cauldron."
Mrs. Weasley ushered the three teenagers through the archway and into the yard behind the famous pub. She pushed open the door, then stood the children in a line in front of the fireplace, taking a small pot of sparkling green powder out of her pocket as she did so. "Right then, Ron first." She passed the pot to Ron, who took it, looked at it in a bemused manner, and whispered, "I like spoons. I like to stroke them. Whoopsydaisy, Mr. Teacup."
"Ron, stop being silly and take a pinch."
Hermione interrupted. "Um, Mrs. Weasley, I think we ought to tell you. Ron's a bit insane. Um…he got attacked by his own T-shirt."
Mrs. Weasley stared blankly at them. "Well, I knew it needed a wash, but I didn't think it was quite that bad…"
"No, I tried to make him sane again, but I got the wrong spell and I can't remember the second bit of the other one."
"Oh, that's alright. 'Cogerit…cogerit…' Oh dear, what's the second half…oh, he'll wait until we get home. Harry, you go first."
Harry and Hermione stood near the fireplace of the Burrow, waiting for Mrs. Weasley and Ron to appear, and feeling slightly guilty, Hermione especially. Then they appeared, revolving, in the fireplace, coughing on soot, Ron rubbing his grazed elbow in a dazed fashion.
"Right, you two look after him, make sure he doesn't…you know, damage anything, and I'll go and look the spell up." She bustled off, leaving Ron standing dazedly in the middle of the room, staring up at the ceiling with his mouth open.
"Um…Ron?"
Ron lowered his gaze from the ceiling, and focused blurrily on Hermione.
"Just like the seaside. Houses sloshing up and down…slosh slosh, slosh slosh…ah yes, baker, ten pounds of your finest ham, please!"
Harry shrugged. "Well, at least he seems pretty happy."
Mrs. Weasley reappeared. "Right, I've found it. 'Cogerit sanus!'" She swished her wand and pointed it at her youngest son. Ron's eyes refocused, and his face lost its dreamy expression. "Huh? Why are we at home? How did I get here?"
"Oh, thank goodness."
"Mum? Where did you spring from?" Ron's brow suddenly furrowed, then his eyes widened and he made a flying leap for the fireplace. "The penny! I have to get the penny! I don't want to be unlucky any more!" His hands scrabbled along the mantelpiece until he found the main store of Floo powder. Grabbing a handful, he flung half of it into the fireplace, yelled 'Diagon Alley', and stepped in. Starting to spin, he vanished from sight.
"Quick! We have to get after him!"
Harry pulled the Floo plant pot down off the mantelpiece. "Nope, we can't. There's only a few grains left, he's got the rest of it."
"But what do we do! Oh, my poor little baby, what if he gets hurt?" Mrs. Weasley started to sob into her hands.
Hermione patted her awkwardly on the back. "Don't worry, I'm sure he can look after himself. He probably won't be long."
Ron appeared, many miles away, in the fireplace of the Leaky Cauldron. Before he could move, a voice spoke. "Mr. Weasley? You're back quick! Forgotten something, 'ave you?" It was Tom the landlord, cleaning out a large pint mug at the bar. Ron muttered, "Um, yeah, yeah…forgotten something…" and ran out of the door.
Running frantically along the street, Ron tried to remember where he had been when he saw the penny. Um…near Flourish and Blotts! Of course! He approached the shop, but the assistant from before walked past the doorway inside, saw him and screamed. Running over to the front desk, he prodded the manager on the shoulder until he turned, annoyed, to face him. "Sir…sir…it's that boy from earlier! The mad one who knocked the Truth Ink stand over! He's outside!" The manager nodded, came outside, and walked cautiously over to Ron, who was still standing there, looking bewildered. "Now, son, we're not trying to hurt you, so don't do anything rash, but could you just move away from the shop, see? I think you're scaring the workers a bit." The man was speaking in a friendly, reassuring tone, and was trying not to get too near to Ron. "Um, yeah, I was just looking for my penny…I think I dropped it…" Were these people mad or something?
"Your penny, is it, son? Yes…that's…nice, ok then, thankyou." The man walked to his shop again, trying not to turn his back on Ron. Who knew what he might do…?
Puzzled by this, Ron knelt down on the muddy cobbles, heedless of the rainwater seeping into the knees of his jeans, and started sifting through the muck on the floor, muttering to himself, "Gotta find it…gotta find it…come on…I promise I'll…I'll wash my socks, I'll brush my teeth every morning and night, I'll…help Ginny with her homework…please…"
Brushing aside a small pile of mud, which he then wiped across his cheeks by accident, he found it.
The penny.
The beautiful, beautiful penny.
It sat there, gleaming muddily and smiling to itself. This one really believed.
Ron sat back in the mud. It was going to be alright. He was going to be fine. No more bad luck. Just good luck, for ever and ever.
I must also say that the description of insanity is not mine either, it is borrowed from a Discworld (Terry Pratchett) book, can't remember which one, and is really about the Bursar.
