The Magical tale of the Mischievous Malfoys

Disclaimer: I don't own the people or the places or the things. I just made up the story. Really, people, would I write fanfiction about my own characters? I don't THINK so. The things I stole from my friends will be listed at the bottom.

This is my first attempt at fanfiction. Don't be too harsh, but if you think its funny/good/needs improvement, comment.

Chapter One: Wonder and Weasleys!

With a faint pop and a cloud of lavender smoke, a tall, skinny, model-icious blonde man appeared. He found himself standing before…(dramatic music)…a….house! Not just any house, however. A house of magic. And wonder. (Yes, you read right. WONDER.) It was not particularly stately in appearance. It seemed to be held up with invisible props, and the chickens scuttling around it were less than majestic. But that was where this particular Malfoy chose to be.

Thinking to himself, he wondered where his son could be. Where is that spiky-haired boy that's known as my son? He mused. (See? What did I tell you? That's EXACTLY what he was wondering.) He'll be along shortly to help me, I suppose. NOW! To business! He thought into the dark foggy night. Soon, all of this will be mine! MINE! Well… not the house. Or those curtains. Why would a MALFOY want those curtains, I ask! They have cornucopias on them! But yes, indeed, the people will be at my mercy! "Teeheehee!" He laughed out loud. "No, that's not it. Tahaha? No… almost… MWAHAHA!….there we go."

Scene change, arrr!

There was something in the air in the Weasley household that morning. This was exactly what Molly (Better known as Mrs.) Weasley was thinking the next morning, as she bustled about the kitchen. Or rather, she wasn't bustling. She was trying her best to bustle, but she couldn't manage it today. What she was really doing was creeping very slowly, as if in slow motion, around the kitchen, making breakfast for her family. It was just the boys and Ginny and Hermione this morning. Arthur (Better known as Mr.) Weasley had been at work for the past six months, but Mrs. Weasley insisted that he was just late.

She was ALMOST halfway across the kitchen when her youngest son, Dear Ronald, came bounding in. "Yo, wut up homedawg," He said. "I been hurtin' fo' sum breakfast dis mo'nin, yo."

"I…don't…know…what…you're…tal…king…a….bout…" Mrs. Weasley began, when her twin sons, Gred and Forge- er, excuse me- Fred and George- Came rather awkwardly, side-by-side, down the stairs.

"Mum!" They shouted in unison. "Something happened! Someone came and jinxed the house and now we're stuck…." They continued. They were interrupted, however, by Ron's uncontrollable outburst of what sounded like Shakespeare quoted Ebonics.

…Meanwhile, upstairs…

Harry Potter, a now-almost-constant presence in the Weasley home, was residing in a long-forgotten Weasley brother's room. He had taken up just sneaking out of the house on Privet Drive whenever he got tired of the stupid muggles. This time, he had hitchhiked, taken a bus, and run, Forest Gump style, to the Weasley home. He was just wondering why it was so pleasant to wear robes instead of pants (Remembering old Archie at the Quidditch World Cup and his night-dress… having a breeze 'round your privates really WAS nice, he supposed), when Hermione burst into his room in all of her bushy-haired glory. She was laughing hysterically. She began to explain to Harry that her cat, Crookshanks, was dead. Laughing harder than ever, she recalled the dreadful event, including the details of how it happened, which included a swarm of gnomes, several kitchen knives, and a lot of hairspray. Harry, however, was not interested. "As much as I love hairspray, Hermione," he stated, I really must be getting downstairs. I'm lusting for a muffin."

The two teenage witches- er… teenage witch and teenage wizard- headed downstairs. As soon as he saw Ron, Harry pulled him into a hug. "OH, HOW I'VE MISSED YOUR RED-HAIRED, FRECKLY, GANGLY AWKWARDNESS, DEAREST RONALD!" Harry exclaimed.

"Yo're damn crunk too, H-dawg," Ron said, flashing his gang sign. (W for Weasley.)

Mrs. Weasley was creeping towards them, holding a tray of food. She offered it to Harry and Ron. "Muff…..in?" she asked, quite slowly. "Or…Jell….o?"

"No thanks, Miz Weeeeeeeeeezly," Harry sang, and turned back to Ron, engaging him in conversation once more.

Meanwhile, Hermione, obviously very amused, was crying at the twins. "Oh, FredandGeorge!" She sobbed. "You're so… so… so… (sob) FUNNY!"

It was at this overwhelmingly bizarre moment that Ginny Weasley came downstairs. She confusedly looked around at Harry, who was gazing fondly at Ron. Ron was quoting Ebonics Shakespeare again, this time at Mrs. Weasley. Mrs. Weasley, however, was still going in slow motion around the kitchen, holding her tray of muffins and jell-o, and watching Hermione. Hermione, positively bawling now, was embracing FredandGeorge, who, Ginny observed, were enjoying themselves immensely. She also observed that they were rather stuck together. She then watched in horror as Hermione released the twins and became exceedingly interested in Fred (or maybe George?)'s left bicep, crying all the while.

Something was most definitely wrong.

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So! That was my first chapter. As soon as I figure out how to put it into chapters... Lol. Read/Review!

"Jell...o?" stolen from Grape-Juice's story Lizard Bits.