Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, but I do own Sylvester, so HA! Sorry, had to get that out of my system
Naughty Nephew
Harry was in a serious panic now. Between bouts of babbling incoherently and swearing, he was running his hands through his messy, black hair.
"I can't find it! How the #$& did I lose it? I couldn't have…oh! How could I have lost it? I have never lost my wand!"
Hermione was caught between mirth and panic. "O-o-okay. Um, I—look, where did you last see it?"
"We were getting out of Transfiguration and McGonagall and that little kid, what's-his-face—Sylvester were passing by and Sylvester bumped into me. Maybe I dropped it there?"
Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Hm. It's possible, but we definitely can't go look for it now; it's after nine. I think Fred and George have landed themselves in another detention. Maybe they'll have noticed it. It's cleaning the Transfiguration and Charms classrooms, so they will pass down that corridor eventually."
"Excellent," Harry groaned. "Just what I need. I go and…" he used some very strong language at this point and continued his string of curses for a full two minutes without stopping.
Hermione had her eyebrows raised when Harry paused to draw breath. "Done yet?" she asked cynically.
Harry growled an indistinct answer.
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About twenty minutes later, the Weasley twins walked into the room, wearing this-is-a-grave-situation-but-it's-making-me-laugh looks.
"Hey Harry," muttered George. His twin did the same. "Guess what?" continued George, "There was a noise coming out of the closet in the Transfiguration room. It sounded like Sylvester."
"What'd he say?"
"It was kind of funny, you know, like, 'I've got a wand! I've got a wand!' Poor person. Whoever's missing his wand has a lot of work to do, getting it out of the kid's hands. He sounds like a lot of work to me, and that says something."
Harry's eyes widened. Hermione gasped.
"Harry…"
"Come off it!" Harry laughed. "How would he have gotten my wand?"
"Harry—he has gotten your wand. Oh, but I'm sure it was all childish fun; he probably doesn't know how important it is."
Which, reader, was, as you will see, not at all an accurate statement.
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Harry walked into the Transfiguration classroom the next morning, ready to give that Sylvester a piece of his mind.
Ginny's class was leaving. As Loony Lovegood walked out of the room, there was a great flash of electric blue light and several loud screams.
Professor McGonagall's voice was heard, shouting and trying to restore calm, "Now, please, don't panic, do not panic, go on to the Hospital Wing, Miss Weasley, I'm sure Madam Pomfrey will clear you up…"
Ginny stomped out the door—and directly into Harry. She blushed bright red and tried to run off.
Harry was about to start laughing hysterically. All thoughts of Sylvester were banished from his mind.
Ginny's appearance had changed. It seemed as though she had permanent makeup on. She had on white face makeup, black lipstick and eyeliner, and her hair had been cropped short and had been turned black (proper background music: "Emo Kid").
Ginny was looking half embarrassed, half furious. Harry was amused. "Hey—what happened?"
"It's that adorable little—MENACE! Sylvester!"
Harry stopped grinning. "Say what?"
"Apparently, he's got someone's wand. Careless person, leaving his wand all over—anyway, the kid's got it and wreaking havoc in the classroom. Now he's hiding and Professor McGonagall can't find him."
"Hm…"
Ginny blushed and turned around. "Well…I'll see you later, Harry, um bye," she mumbled and ran off.
Harry watched the classroom with narrowed eyes. He thought he'd found out where his wand actually was, and he was not skeptical about its whereabouts…
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Professor McGonagall had given up searching for her nephew. Little devil, she thought, what was Lydia thinking when she said that a school environment might instill some discipline in her son? Now he's stealing wands!
Hermione, Ron, and Harry had split up, searching for the miniature demon.
Hermione's thoughts:
I hope he can explain himself. I can't think anything bad of him; he's just so adorable! And yet, he's disfigured Ginny. Poor Ginny. I hope Madam Pomfrey will be able to fix her, or that face, at least. God, what an evil little man!
She crept behind a tapestry and waited.
Harry's thoughts:
I will hunt that little man down. Hm. He steals my wand, he puts some crazy Emo-Halloween makeup on my best friend's sister, and what'll he do next? I wasn't that bad at that time. Dudley wasn't that bad at that time! And that's saying something. God, what an evil little man!
He crept behind the door leading to the Great Hall.
Ron's thoughts:
#$&$! Fred and George wouldn't even attempt crap like that! Well, maybe they could've, I dunno. But not to a girl, I guess. They would've done it to Lee Jordan or something. I reckon McGonagall's stern self wasn't really handed down to her nephew, hm? God, what an evil little man!
He crept behind a door leading into a broom closet near the trapdoor leading to the North Tower.
Suddenly, there was a flash of red light and a shout of "STUPEFY!" Ron screamed bloody murder and fell to the ground.
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Ron awoke three hours later. People were coming out of classes now. How long have I been asleep? Ah well, whatever. Now why do I feel a breeze around my…lower area? Whatever, I know I've got my robes. Better get to the common room. What time is it anyway?
People started to stare at Ron. Ron was offended. They were laughing at him!
What? What the heck is wrong with all you people? I'm not that interesting! Oh look, there's Harry. He'll tell me what's going on.
Ron should have looked to see what he was wearing. He walked up to his best friend. People stopped by to watch. Someone whistled very loudly.
"Harry, what the…"
"Ron! Where've you been?"
"I dunno, I was looking for Sylvester and then I was Stupefied…I think he's doing some serious damage with your wand, mate."
"No kidding? He's put you in a dress, apparently, Ron." (Good theme music: "Dude Looks Like a Lady" by Aerosmith!)
"What—AAAAAAHHH!"
Ron was in a very unattractive chartreuse green dress. It looked like something from the eighteenth century. It had the full skirt, broad, puffy sleeves, and had a terribly low neckline.
"THIS IS DISGUSTING! I'LL KILL THAT LITTLE MENACE!"
A/N: Ah, Ronald, what shall we do with you? Can any of you think of what Sylvester should do next? And what Ginny should do to retaliate? Thanks guys.
