Something Familiar (Mk.2)
Chapter 02 : "He Came Adder Nowhere"
AKA : "Trunks on Both Ends"
=A=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=A=
Seated at the workbench in the back corner of his cabin, Hagrid carefully cleaned his cane.
Now, for a normal person, that wouldn't entail much more than a bit of water and a rag. Maybe they'd even break out some wood polish if they were feeling particularly adventurous. Five minutes - perhaps ten at the outside - and they'd be ready to head off to the pub.
It should go without saying that Hagrid didn't fall under the label of 'normal person' in any way at all.
Cleaning his lord's last gift was an all-evening affair. It had to be disassembled. Each individual part was carefully inspected for damage, cleaned, oiled and polished. This task was further complicated by the sheer number of parts involved, a vast array of metal bits and bobs that covered nearly the entire bench. There was considerably more than there should be and, at a glance, there was no obvious way they could fit together to produce a cane.
It was certainly an odd feature to have in a gift from a muggle, but the muggle in question had been quite odd himself. His travels made him privy to some bits of information he definitely shouldn't have, many of which would send the government screaming for the Obliviators.
Relentlessly pursuing death had become something of a family pastime over the years. Following his lord, Hagrid had most likely been nearly killed by unnatural beasts and curses more than any ten other wizards. It never ceased to amaze him that the patriarchal line still existed, especially since their distant cousins in America were just as bad.
Then again, for all Hagrid knew, they might all be dead. Somehow "It belongs in a museum!" didn't mesh well with "It belongs in my foyer!" at all. Several bribes later the family estate was officially dubbed a national museum, a fact that didn't go over well with the other parties involved. Their last meeting had gone quite poorly, ending in the words, "Stay on your side of the world, you bloody Yank, or I'll see which end of that whip goes in easier!" and several very vulgar motions.
"What's that donkey buggering lot's problem? It's a foyer and a museum. It's the best of both worlds, like… damn, what did you call them? Oh yes! Ladyboys! On an unrelated note, pack the liquor and ammo! We're off to Thailand!"
When they were off and about, cleaning his armaments was one of the few moments of quiet and relaxation he could get. Whatever else you might say about him, his lord understood the importance of maintaining his tools and respected anyone who did the same. Unless it was absolutely necessary he wouldn't disturb Hagrid while he was working on them. It was one of the few times he could count on being undisturbed, and had become almost meditative for him. He had taken to breaking down a firearm whenever he needed a short break, or as a sort of therapy when he was irritated.
He was irritated.
The headmaster was obviously planning something. Why else would he ensure Harry saw the package containing the stone? This business about keeping it in the school behind 'protections' that hardly warranted the title was even more suspicious. If he really believed Tom Riddle wasn't dead, he would obviously realize Hagrid's old chum was considerably more dangerous than he'd let on. Cheating death was the sort of thing that took very powerful magic, and most means of doing it were incredibly Dark.
Hagrid didn't buy the "It's safest were I can protect it," line at all. Gringotts was plenty safe and, even as talented as he was, Tom and his merry band of terrorists would have a hell of a time getting it there.
No one seemed to know what the heck Albus was plotting. Not even Devil knew, which was very worrying. They, at the very least, always knew what the short-term plan was. The fact that Albus was playing things this close to his chest didn't bode well. Unfortunately they had been getting less and less information lately, and what they did get was confusing to say the least.
Dumbledore's obvious irritation that Harry had received the 'wrong' wand had been clear, though the exact reason wasn't clear. His disapproval that the boy had met Draco and - even worse, Lucius - was equally obvious, but understandable. The fact that the goblins had taken a liking to the boy had been met with an annoyed look, like Hagrid was admitting to piddling on the floor. Most wizards would see that as a good thing (the goblins, not the piddle), but were just too stupid, ignorant or bigoted to figure out how to achieve it.
It was probably a good thing he didn't mention the promise he'd made the boy on their way back home. It was never too young to start, after all, and there didn't seem any harm since the boy already had a stick that could set people on fire. Quite spectacularly, if Ollivander was to be believed. But fire-stick or no fire-stick, Hagrid was more than happy to steer Harry away from completely abandoning the mundane world like so many muggleborn do. The fact that young boys were attracted to loud booms just made it that much easier.
Devil and Emperor had, unsurprisingly, agreed to help achieve that end. They had been nearly as inscensed as Hagrid when Harry had been quietly shuffled out of sight. The fact that both understood the long-term effects of their actions so well was probably the only reason the school was still standing after that. Neither was as powerful as Albus alone, or possibly even together, but any conflict like that was sure to leave a large crater behind.
That was the problem with wandering around acting like you're the supreme authority on everything, and expecting everyone to blindly follow you because of it. Sooner or later you were bound to find someone that disagreed. They were less common than you'd like to think, since most would rather someone else did the work anyway, but there was more than a few of them. When you finally did run into one, an attitude like that was bound to piss them off.
Once upon a time, both Emperor and Devil had been quite loyal to the headmaster's cause. A few too many trespasses 'for their own good' had changed that.
It was likely whatever Dumbledore was plotting would happen soon. The old man could only live so much longer. The fact the he thought Riddle was still around needed to be considered as well. Whatever else might be said about him, Albus wasn't one to jump at shadows. The idea that a dead wanna-be Dark Lord was still running about wasn't any more ridiculous than some of the other rumors.
Nodding in satisfaction, Hagrid slid the final component home. It was considerably longer than the cane was wide, but that hardly mattered. Such things had been normal for him long ago. After his time with his master, he was probably more accustomed to such obvious oddities than most wizards.
It was really quite amusing.
In their travels Hagrid had also learned how important proper planning was. It could often be the line separating victory and defeat. Proper maintenance was vital, even if he didn't think he'd be using it anytime soon. After all, you never knew when someone might need a little 'convincing' to make the right choice.
Hagrid smiled as he twisted, producing a loud click. It wasn't a particularly nice smile, but it was certainly a happy one. The half-giant was almost hoping Albus was right about Tom. He'd be quite happy if the old boy would be his 'chum' once again, but this time friendship would have nothing to do with it.
They'd all look quite silly if Strength showed up unprepared for that.
=A=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=A=
It is to my great regret that I am unable to see you off myself. Unfortunately, there are matters that I am duty-bound to attend to. The man bearing the note has been instructed to bring you to King's Cross Station. He will assist you in transporting your belongings to Platform Nine and return here immediately.
Platform Nine and Three-Quarters is located between Platforms Nine and Ten. Simply approach the barrier between them at good speed. Ensure you are travelling faster than a brisk walk, else you shall strike the stone. Move forward without fear, do not slow, and simply pass through the barrier as if it were not there.
I look forward to seeing you at Hogwarts.
With my best regards,
Rubeus Hagrid.
Harry stared down at the note, eyes narrowed in suspicion.
The man bearing it had looked pretty legitimate, and had in fact driven him to King's Cross Station. The script was very precise and refined. It was exactly the sort of handwriting he could imagine Hagrid having. It was written on heavy vellum paper that wasn't at all the sort of thing someone would use for a prank.
Turning his suspicious gaze upward, he swept it across the station. There wasn't anyone loitering around that looked any more suspect than your average traveller. There was also a distinct lack of bushes for someone with a camera to hide in, unless they could conceal themselves behind a potted plant. In fact, there was a notable lack of cameras in general.
That struck him as very odd. He hadn't ever actually done any travelling, but he was under the impression that it was the sort of thing people liked to take pictures of. But perhaps he was wrong, because not a single person in sight had a camera, video camera or phone out.
Still, it might be best to hang out and check things out. He had almost an hour before the train was due to leave. There was never any harm in being cautious, especially when not doing so would result in colliding with a concrete wall at high speed. It was likely he wasn't the only student leaving from here, so someone was bound to go for the wall eventually.
As it turned out, he didn't have to wait long at all.
Holy crap. Who imported the carrot patch? the Adder hissed quietly.
Harry turned his head slightly to subtly search the area the Adder was examining. As the snake had rather impolitely indicated, a large group of redheads were travelling down the length of the station. Six of them were approaching and - judging by the children's luggage and the Mother's lack of such - the kids were most likely being shipped off somewhere.
Damn, if we played connect the dots on their faces, we'd be here all week.
Harry sighed as he sat on his trunk, watching the group. Not for the first time he thanked the gods for the fact that no one else could understand the Adder.
Oh, dude, check out the big one! That's a really rusty roof, but even an incubus wouldn't wanna see how wet the basement is. Wait. It's probably more like a underground city than a basement if she popped all those out.
Shaking his head, Harry continued to study them as they stopped between Platforms Nine and Ten.
Score.
One of the boys - probably the oldest - approached the barrier, building up speed until he was moving at a brisk pace. Without the faintest sign of hesitation, he plowed into the concrete wall. There was a slight ripple as he hit it, slid into it and vanished from sight.
Houston, we are go for launch, the Adder announced. Can I ride on your head?
"No," Harry immediately replied, hopping off his trunk and grabbing the trolley's handle. Pushing at it, he started to accelerate across the station floor. He turned slightly, aiming for the empty space next to the woman, and really threw his weight into it. Ideally, he'd be up to speed by the time he got to her.
She was shifting uncomfortably, as if she was reluctant to be here. Her eyes moved back and forth, clearly searching the area around the barrier for something. At the same time they kept darting back the way she had come. She clearly wanted to be here for something but, at the same time, really wanted to get the hell out of there.
I never get to ride on your head. Can we at least surf through on the trunk?
Harry considered that for a moment before replying, "Yes. Yes we can."
Shoving even harder, he forced himself to accelerate the trolley faster than could reasonably safe. Satisfied with the speed, he quickly scrambled over the handle, hopped onto the trunk and stood, spreading his feet into a wide stance. As was morally obligated in a situation like this, he spread his arms wide.
Hearing the approaching cart, the red-headed mother turned to look at him. Seeing his face, her expression immediately brightened. "Hello dear, do you need help-"
Her greeting died suddenly as she registered what she was seeing.
"No thanks!" Harry shouted as he thundered past her. "I think I got it!"
Every fibre of his being screamed at him to save himself, to dive off his impromptu vehicle before he hit the wall. He had to steel himself and deny every survival instinct in his body. Instead of jumping he set his feet and dropped lower, mastering his fear and shutting down his mind's every attempt to save him. His mind was a pussy anyway. He had just seen someone go through the wall, so there was absolutely no way anything could go wrong.
Harry's luggage sled met the wall and slipped through it just as expected.
What kind of plan? A perfect plan, that's what kind. A perfect and awesome plan!
The phantom barricade, of course, failed to stop - or even slow - the high-speed trolley in a way only a phantom barricade could manage. There wasn't the least bit of resistance.
Harry was a little interested to learn that phantom barricade tasted like week-old grape Starburst. It struck him as an odd thing for a phantom wall to taste like. Actually, a phantom wall tasting like anything seemed a bit odd. It was a phenomenon he decided to investigate later.
Unfortunately, Harry's experiments in illusionary taste would never occur. This was because the thought was superseded 0.73 seconds later by something more important.
Harry suddenly realized that there may have been a flaw in his perfect plan.
Oh shit, the Adder hissed, his eyes widening in shock.
"Oh shit," Harry gasped, his eyes widening in shock.
Somehow, during the twelve seconds he had spent planning the masterful maneuver, it hadn't occurred to him that there might be things that were very much non-phantom on the other side of the phantom wall.
"I regret everything."
The poor bastard that had the audacity to be standing in what was clearly a 'ballistic trunks only' zone had just enough time to look up and say, "Oh, shit," before the makeshift battering ram hit. There was a terrible crash as Harry slammed into his trolley and sent him sprawling to the ground. The trunk jerked violently beneath him, and suddenly everyone was standing on the ceiling.
Oh crap! Floor! Floor!
Oh, that made a whole lot more sense. Harry actually felt silly for that brief, irrational idea that everyone else was upside down. Clearly he was flying through the air at an improbable speed, tumbling arse over teakettle. It was a much more reasonable situation than his first thought, which had been quite foolish. He consoled himself with the fact that it wasn't a situation a person often found themselves in and, therefore, a bit of confusion wasn't strange.
It was actually quite cool. The only thing that sucked some of the fun out of it was the fact that he was pretty sure he knew how the flight would end. The ground was already rushing up at him. It was remarkably clean for the floor of a train platform. It was kind of comforting to know he wouldn't be licking a dirty floor when his face shattered on it.
At the last instant there was a sudden flash of black cloth. Arms wrapped around him as his rescuer let out a triumphant cry. Harry's momentum brought them both down, but the young wizard's impact was cushioned by his savior's body. They hit the floor with a thump and Harry - his momentum not quiet bled off - tumbled across the floor. He quickly twisted and rolled, smoothly coming to his feet and taking several steps forward, as if the entire maneuver had been planned.
Sighing, Harry turned to thank his classmate for the impressive save.
An older girl was laying on the ground, staring up at her small group of companions with a stunned look on her face. Taking in the shocked and worried looks on her friends' faces, all Harry could do was say, "Huh."
Apparently the girl hadn't meant to save him at all.
Either way, it had ended up working out. He was perfectly fine and the witch didn't look much more than dazed. He should probably thank her anyway.
Harry's trunk chose exactly that moment to drop from the sky like a wooden meteor. There was just enough time for the poor witch's eyes to widen in shocked realization. Her mouth opened, the beginning of a scream forming there, but she didn't even manage to voice it. All she got out was a short yelp as a split-second of horror overwhelmed her mind.
And then the trunk overwhelmed her face, which probably made her forget all about being scared. It hit with a sound that made Harry really hope her parents were paid up on their medical insurance. The sound her head made as it collided with the floor an instant later caused Harry to decide life insurance might be a little more applicable.
"Oh my God! Cho!" one of the girls shrieked. Harry momentarially found himself wondering if she dyed her hair, or if it really was that black. Then the screams started and he decided it was probably irrelevant.
Everyone was so busy looking at the prone witch that they didn't even seem to notice his trunk grinding to a stop beside him. Harry took a quick look around, one thought in his mind:
"What should I do? Should I help?"
Screw that, the Adder replied. Just make it someone else's problem. That sounds a lot easier.
That did sound a lot easier.
Harry took another look around and spotted a trunk and trolly pair nearby. The owner - who looked vaguely familiar - was a little ways off and just as engrossed watching the screaming, panicked group as everyone else. Instantly forming a plan, Harry quietly grabbed the trolley and wheeled it away. Once he decided he had gone far enough, he gave the trunk a solid boot. It spilled to the ground with a quiet thump that made him wince, but no one seemed to notice. Deciding he was in the clear, Harry shrugged and flipped his trunk onto the repossessed trolley.
And then he walked away. Whistling nonchalantly, of course.
The shouting began a moment later. His victim's friends had obviously begun looking for someone to blame and - reasonably - had settled on the one gaping wizard standing there without a trunk. For a moment Harry felt bad, but then he remembered one of the many pearls of wisdom his serpentine friends had imparted on him:
A good hunter never feels mercy for its prey.
He was pretty sure the advice didn't actually apply here, since he hadn't been hunting at all. He was also 98% certain snakes weren't the best source of life lessons. They probably wouldn't deliberately steer him wrong, but it seemed reasonable to assume they followed a set of morals that didn't apply to human society.
Of course, it was a well-demonstrated fact that human society was full of assholes. Besides, the snakes assured him they were reliable, reasonable and the ideal source of advice. They were in a position to know, right?
And anyway, snakes only hurt things when they had to, as opposed to doing it for fun, so they might have a better moral compass to begin with. They had no interest in things like Harry Hunting when they could be doing more important things like laying in the sun. The only time he'd seen one go out of its way to hurt something when they weren't hungry or threatened was when one of his grass snakes was provoked into biting Dudley on the bollocks one night.
That had only happened once. The poor snake had eventually recovered, but was left with mental scars that would likely never fade. The injured party insisted to this day that it was worth it, and that he'd likely do it again if he figured out a way to get the taste out of his mouth.
Without so much as a backwards glance, Harry casually walked away from the crowd.
Holy shit, the Adder suddenly hissed. Would you look at the scales on that.
Harry turned to observe a witch shouldering her way out of the small melee. Coiled around her neck was a small snake with shining, emerald green scales.
"Wow. She is pretty."
Pretty? She's hotter than Satan's asshole after a $40 Taco Bell binge. Be a bro and give me a lift, would ya?
Sighing, Harry raised his arm and held out his hand. The Adder uncoiled from his upper arm and quickly slid down his arm. Taking another look at the female snake, he hissed happily and curled up into a ball.
"Just don't bite anyone and don't get stepped on."
Yes mommy. I'll be a good little snake.
Shaking his head, Harry tossed the Adder up and down a few times, as if gauging his weight. Satisfied, he wound up and hurled the snake into the air.
Fu~ck yea~h! the Adder let loose a snakey roar as he flew.
Harry's aim, as usual, was true. Just before he hit the Adder uncoiled, landing on the witch's shoulders with the slightest thump.
Hey, baby. You come here often?
The witch, obviously having felt him land, turned to give her shoulder a curious look. Upon seeing the Adder, she immediately froze.
Yo, you mind? I'm trying to get some action here, the Adder complained.
"Snake!" the witch let loose a panicked scream. She quickly grabbed the Adder by the face, turned, and hurled him into the air.
The hell? There's a freaking snake around your neck! the airborne serpent pointed out. What is wrong with you, you stupid- Oh, dude! Coming in for a landing! You might want to cover your-
There was a pained howl as Adder met crotch. Harry winced reflexively, covering his junk in sympathetic pain. The Adder, despite his size, could hit really hard.
Never mind.
The boy stumbled back and tried to grab the Adder as he slid down his leg. Unfortunately, during his awkward flailing he managed to kick a large, grey cat. It probably would have been fine if it ended there, but the aggrieved animal immediately launched itself at the offending wizard, scaled his robes and began assaulting his face. The boy panicked and grabbed his feline assailant by the back of the neck. With one good heave it became the third land-bound animal to fly that morning.
There was a cry of surprise and pain as it slammed straight into a witch's face, followed immediately by a dog's angry bark. The noise immediately began to spread as a mixture of shouts and various animal sounds filled the air. The crowd was quite obviously working up into a frenzy.
For some reason, all Harry could think of was the barroom brawls in old cowboy movies. Two men would get into a fight and a third man would get punched on accident. He'd throw a bottle at their heads, but miss and hit someone else. Very soon the entire room would be involved in a massive fight.
That seemed to be exactly what was happening here, only with young wizards and dangerous animals instead of cowboys and liquor.
Harry looked around quickly, searching for a way to nip this in the bud, but found nothing.
Where the hell were all the adults?
"Damn. I gotta admit, I'm kind of jealous," a voice said from behind him and to the right.
Harry started and made a surprised noise at the comment, whirling.
There was an older boy casually sitting on Harry's own trunk, legs dangling off the side. He was pretty easily identified as one of the boys Harry had watched go through the barrier. The red hair and freckles would have given it away, even if the other half of his set wasn't flopped across the trolley's handle.
"Yeah. I mean, we didn't manage to start a riot until halfway through the year," the second said. "Way to make a guy feel inadequate, buddy."
Harry looked back and forth between them with an angelic, innocent expression. "What do you mean?"
The redhead leaning on the trolley's handle snorted and laughed. "Oh man, that's pretty good."
"Don't bother. We saw you knock Ced on his ass and paste Chang with your trunk. Damn good aim, that. We're impressed."
"Hell yes. The snake was a nice touch, too. Was that Plan B?" The redhead pushed himself away from the handle and straightened. As he did, Harry's eyes widened. The wizard had a small, fluffy tail hanging limply of of the front of his pants. "Pretty good backup there. I woulda gone with the snake first, but you can't fault an artist for having different taste."
"So… you're not going to turn me in?"
The twins glanced at each other, then started laughing.
"Turn you in? Are you kidding?"
"That was awesome. Artistic chaos at its finest."
"I'm George, kid. Trust me when I say it's a name that causes those that love rules and order to tremble in their britches," George declared. "I'd set fire to issue #121 of Witches Gone Wild before I turned you in."
The other redhead gasped. "Not issue #121! That's the one with the thing and the other thing doing things!"
"And that's my brother, Fred. I'm the brains of the operation and he's the stupidity. It's a bad combination."
Harry looked at George curiously. "Why?"
"Because I come up with bad ideas, and he convinces me we should do it."
Fred nodded solemnly. "It is prophesied that we shall free this world from the tyrannical grip of cruel and boring order. Our duty, as acolites of chaos, is too spread confusion and discord to all we touch."
"Ah, yeah…" Harry mumbled. He was starting to wonder if he should be backing away. George seemed to anticipating exactly that, because at some point during his brother's declaration he had slipped around behind him and cut off is escape.
"Now, now. None of that. He's kidding, of course. You'd have to be a Grade A dumbass to buy that prophecy crap. It's all bullshit," George soothed.
"If you run away from every nutter wizard you come across, you're not gonna stop anytime soon," Fred added.
"A little joke is certainly no reason to run when the most intelligent, most creative, and above all most handsomest wizard in Hogwarts has decided to adopt you as his protege. Anyway, running isn't an option. We are going to the same school."
"Exactly. Not that the adoption is optional to begin with. I mean, technically it is optional, but I wouldn't recommend skipping out on it," Fred added with a menacing giggle. "My exceptional brother was wrong on one point, however. While we are both exceptionally comely, I'm clearly the handsome twin. I'm the fun one too, so you shall be my protege. George is a man of simple tastes and could never understand the magnificence of a perfectly aimed trunk. Your talents would be wasted on him."
"Fred would never properly appreciate your creative use of available equipment. Why, he's so foolish that he doesn't even grasp the perfect curve of my jaw. It should be obvious that I'm far more attractive."
"Ha! It seems you failed to take into account the wonderful set of my eyes."
"But have you noticed how my freckles are perfectly spaced?"
"Surely you jest. My freckles are far superior. Don't you see how they're precisely aligned as defined by trans-spacial recursive reverse paradox geometric theory?"
The two stared at each other. They were both wearing identical looks of confusion.
"George? Buddy? What the hell was that?" Fred demanded.
"I honestly have no idea," George admitted. "It just kind of popped into my head. Y'know, like someone put it there."
Harry examined him for a second, then shuffled a few steps back toward Fred.
"Ha! My firstie! Mine!" Fred cheered. The tail hanging from his pants - which Harry had completely forgotten about - sprang to attention.
Harry's gaze drifted down to the furry appendage. It was pointing out at a nearly perpendicular angle. If he was forced to guess, he would reluctantly as it was roughly eighty degrees. It would be reluctant because he didn't even want to think about it. It seemed like a lost cause, because the questionable protrusion was already fixed firmly in his mind.
"Please don't point that at me…" Harry said weakly.
Fred examined him curiously, then slowly traced Harry's gaze down to his own tail. "Oho, looking at my front-tail, are we?" he asked with a knowing wink. He began swaying his hips back and forth, sending his 'front-tail' bouncing through the air. "You're not… by any chance… mistaking it for something else, are you?"
"Sweet zombie Jesus. That's why I told you you shouldn't let her ride in the front," George sighed. "Seriously, you're gonna end up in chains one of these days."
Fred grinned and began stroking his tail. "What? She likes it up here. The belly's warm and it doesn't smell like arse."
"Maybe if you wiped a little more it wouldn't be an issue."
"Hey, hey. Easy now. Don't expect me to like front-tails in the rear just because you do. Not that I'm judging, of course. I'm always behind you, brother, no matter what choices you make in life. I'm just saying maybe I don't want you behind me…"
"May your soul be plunged into the eternal darkness, where it shall be torn asunder by the living incarnations of pain and despair," George intoned.
The Weasley brother shifted his gaze past Harry to give George a surprised and disbelieving look. Harry quickly darted away from the redhead and spun to watch him suspiciously. It was definitely because he wanted to join Fred in his shocked staring, and not because of the cold chill that had just run down his back.
"What the hell was that?"
"What?"
"That! The thing you just said, George! What the hell was that!?" Fred demanded.
George gave him a puzzled look. "I said, 'Screw you,' Fred. I'd think you hear that enough to know what it sounds like."
"That's not what you said!" Fred accused.
"That's definitely not what you said," Harry mumbled in agreement.
"Are you guys alright? You're acting weird."
"We're acting weird? George, you just… Are you feeling okay, George? You seem a little…"
Eyes wide, Harry whispered, "...possessed."
"I was actually gonna go with 'ill,' but that works too."
Grimacing, George rubbed his lower stomach. "Now that you mention it, I am feeling a bit strange. I probably shouldn't have had those eggs Mom made. They seemed a bit off."
"You ate the eggs!? George, buddy, those things were definitely a little more than 'off!' They were completely-"
"-infected by ultimate evil," Harry finished.
"Hey, I like this kid!" Fred announced, clapping Harry on the shoulder.
"...is that your front-tail poking me in the back?" Harry asked with a shiver.
"Don't worry, I don't like you that… Oh, nevermind. It totally is," Fred laughed.
Harry leaped forward, whirling around again. Finding himself trapped between a possessed redhead and a erect 'front-tail,' Harry had a tough decision to make. Eyes locked on the fluffy tail, he made his choice. Not looking away, he slowly shuffled back towards George.
The Weasley let out a dainty little burp. The scent of sulfur tickled Harry's nose even though he was still a several feet away. He continued backing away from Fred.
"Don't get all weird. It's just one of the girls," Fred chuckled. He poked at a barely noticeable lump in his shirt. "Hey, lazy. Get your furry rear out here and say hi to… uh… Who are we saying hi to?"
"Harry. Harry Potter," Harry replied.
George leaned forward to examine his face carefully. "Potter? Really?"
Sighing, Harry lifted his bangs to reveal his scar.
"Hmm…" Fred hummed. Stooped down a bit to join his brother in his study. "That's a hell of a zit you got there, kid. You might want to get some cream for that. Maybe just burn it right off before something bursts out of it."
"Fred, what the hell would burst out of a zit?"
"I dunno. Like, a robot or something?"
"I'm pretty sure that doesn't happen…" Harry mumbled. "You guys aren't going to get weird?"
Fred paused, freezing in place with one fist cocked back to slug himself in the gut. "Get weird? Don't be absurd. How silly to imply we could possibly get weird."
Fred finished winding up, then slammed his fist into his stomach. At the last moment the small lump moved to the side. Instead of hitting it, he ended up driving his knuckles into his gut with considerable force. He released a faint, pained gasp as the air rushed from his lungs. Crippled by his own strike, he slowly collapsed to the floor.
"What my esteemed brother was trying to ask is why you'd think we'd get weird."
"Well… Hagrid said I was famous for killing some dork lord. Why the heck would someone call themselves that?"
"Oh, that," George said. Seeing his brother recovering enough to climb to his feet, he decided to help him by giving him a good boot to the side. "That's really only the adults, for the most part. You did somehow kill a dude when you were a year old, which is worth some serious street cred, but the dick eaters were on the ropes anyway. You just kind of sped it up. People that were around then might pop a semi, but most people our age won't really care."
"On the ropes?" Harry asked absently. Most of his attention was on Fred, who was rolling around on the floor and kicking his own ass as he tried to hit the fast moving lump.
"Right. So, you know about the Bond, right?"
Harry's attention shifted from Fred to George. Wordlessly, he shook his head.
"Really? Damn. It's like this: when you summon your Familiar, you give them part of your soul and take part of theirs. Exactly how much you trade varies from person to person, but it's always an even trade. A weird little side effect of that is that the wizard and Familiar kind of rub off on each other."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, say your pet snake there was your Familiar. It'd get smarter and understand things a snake probably shouldn't. In exchange, you might be a little more inclined to find a sunbeam and curl up, or decide you like swallowing live mice whole."
"Oh, that makes sense," Harry said, nodding. He couldn't help but wonder what would happen to the Adder if he was subjected to the Bond. Like most snakes Harry spoke to a lot, he had grown smarter and had a better understanding of things over time. Sometimes it even seemed like he understood things better than the boy did, but that would probably be because he was something like thirty in snake years.
Or something like that, anyway. Harry wasn't quite clear on what a snake year was.
"And let's say your Familiar is something that really likes eating other things, like a lioness. It's possible that the Bond could do something fun, like make you take offense when someone treats your family like prey. If a member of your family was killed, it might even push you to hunt down and brutally murder every Death Eater you could find."
"Turns out that about 80% of 'em were total pussies that thought they could get away with it because they wore a scary mask. When people started looking for them, most of them booked it and the rest just stopped being alive," Fred added, pausing in his one man brawl. He was twisted into a shape that would make a contortionist cry, and for some reason had one arm rammed up his pant leg to the elbow. "The rest were real 'You're Screwed' class wizards, though. Our old man found that out the hard way."
Harry nodded, filing that away as something to ask about later.
"So… what're your Familiars? Are they front-tails?" Harry asked with a shudder.
"Nope. Mine's a back-tail," George announced. He turned around to proudly display the tail protruding from his back waistband.
All Harry could think of to say was, "Oh."
"Seriously though, the girls're foxes. Aren't you, Beautiful?"
George's back-tail vanished into his clothing. A small lump circled his torso, quickly climbing. A moment later a fox popped out from the neck of his shirt and sat down on his shoulder.
Harry would be surprised if she weighed more than half a kilogram and, counting the tail that made up about around half of her length, was barely forty centimeters long. The large ears and long tail made her look similar to the Fennec foxes he'd seen in the zoo, though she was a bit smaller and had a very poofy tail that you wouldn't normally expect that breed to have. She was a pure white aside from onyx black markings on her paws, the tips of her ears and the tip of her tail.
Harry felt like he was being studied and evaluated in a way a fox shouldn't be capable of. Frowning, he turned to the side were Fred was still trying to haul his Familiar out of his clothing. It was a bit of a fool's errand. The fox in question was sitting on the floor a few feet away, watching him struggle with an amused look on her face.
Fred whirled around and flopped to the floor, somehow managing to tie another knot in his own clothing. He now looked like something from the bloopers reel on a hardcore bondage porn DVD. "Ha! Almost got you that time, you bugger! C'mere and fight like a… man... " Fred trailed off as his new position brought his vulpine spectator into view. "Oh, you suck so much."
The fox made a strange chirping sound that made Harry think of laughter. She whipped around - belting Fred in the face with her tail - and trotted over to George. It took her but a moment to scramble up his body and take a seat on his unoccupied shoulder.
"Girls, meet Harry Potter, the B-List hero," George said, gesturing grandly. Pointing to each fox in turn, he continued, "B-List hero, meet Ri and Ru."
Both foxes immediately turned and delivered a nasty bite to their respective ear.
"Ow! Sonuva- Just tell me I'm wrong like normal magical mini-foxes!" he snapped. "Fine. Harry, meet Ru and Ri."
The foxes delivered another pair of matching bites.
"The hell, you crazy furballs!? One of those was obviously right!"
Harry's eyes shifted back and forth between the two magical mini-foxes. Much like Fred and George, the two were perfectly identical down to the last whisker. "They must be twins too, right? They're very pretty."
One of the foxes launched into the air and landed lightly on his right shoulder. The other dropped to the ground, leapt to slam into his waist and scrambled up his body. Eventually she took a seat on his previously foxless side. Both foxes examined him closely from just a few inches away.
"Huh. You sure know how to sweet talk a lady, Kid," George said. "They don't usually take to people like that. They don't take to people at all, really."
Harry looked back at the fox on his left, then slowly raised a hand. Her beautiful fur looked quite soft, but he wasn't exactly sure if you were supposed to pet magical mini-foxes. The question was answered when the small creature leaned forward to meet his hand. She immediately began making a low hum that sounded vaguely like a cat's purr.
Do foxes purr? Apparently this one did. Then again, it was a magical mini-fox.
"Hello, Ri," he greeted quietly. With a great deal more confidence he reached up and began scratching behind the other fox's ears. "Hello, Ru."
George looked at them expectantly for several seconds, the frowned in annoyance. "That's not fair. How come he doesn't get bitten, but we do?"
One of the foxes gave him a look that was clearly intended to say, "Because you suck."
The other fox gave him a look that could be roughly interpreted as, "Because your screams are like sweet candy for our souls."
"Wow. They're right next to your face an not chewing on it!" Fred exclaimed as he walked up to them. At some point he had managed to free himself and redress. Sort of. His arms were stuck down the legs of his pants, while his head was popping out a hole he'd torn in the crotch. His sweatshirt, obviously, was serving as a pair of makeshift pants. "That's a bummer, man. There's nothing like a good fox bite to get ya going."
Harry looked him up and down and muttered, "Does he always do stuff like this?"
"Only on days that end with Y. It's actually better that way. You should see him on Splurix. He's so serious it's scary…"
"...Splurix?"
"Splurix, man, Splurix!" George replied, looking at him like he was a moron. "The 367th day of the year. Fred is downright disturbing all day. Luckily it only happens once every four and a quarter years. I think there's one coming up next year, though, so be ready for that little bit of trauma."
Harry continued to watch Fred. The older boy had realized there was a problem with his clothing and was trying like hell to fix it. So far he'd managed to rotate everything so that his arms and legs were each in one pant leg and one sleeve.
"I have a really hard time imagining that."
"Yeah, he's a bit… off… sometimes. He's a freaking genius though, truth be told. He's so stupid that he comes up with weird stuff that no one else would ever think of. Me? I just try to make something we can use out of all the good parts," George admitted. There was just a hint of embarrassment and shame in his tone. "Well, that and try to keep him from killing himself on accident. That part can be pretty hard some days."
"It sounds like a good thing to be doing, though. I mean both parts, not just keeping him alive," Harry stated. "That's probably the really important one, but the other one's good too. Just because someone does the little bits that're hard doesn't mean the whole rest of it isn't important, especially if they can't to that stuff themselves."
George stared at him for a moment, then smiled and reached out to ruffle his hair. "You're okay, kid. I think you'll definitely make a good minion."
"I thought I was supposed to be your protege."
"Eh, same thing. It'll work out either way. Only problem I see is that I'm apparently sharing you with Fred. I kinda feel like having half a minion is pretty pathetic. Might have to 'adopt' a few more…"
"Oh, oh! That sounds like a good idea," Fred agreed as he casually walked up to them. He was perfectly dressed again. There was no sign of the knots and tears that had been in his clothing a few moments ago. "We could have an army of firsties!"
"Fred, we'll be lucky to find another firstie that meets our standards, let alone two. Where do you think we'd come up with an army of 'em if we can't even come up with a couple more now?"
"Good point. That does seem unlikely."
"Yup. Huh. Looks like the riot's dying down," George observed, rubbing his chin. "That's a bummer."
"Yeah it is. It's too bad there's no one around to do something totally irresponsible like wind 'em up again,"
The twins paused, then looked at each other with wide eyes, as if just realizing something.
"Oh~, right!" they said together. As one they each held out a hand. Their Familiars quickly vacated Harry's shoulders and filled the waiting palms. Much like the Adder had, they curled into little balls of fluff. A moment later they were airborne, traveling towards the slowly calming mob.
"Three knuts says I bollock someone."
"You're on!"
The pair of furry projectiles reached the end of their flight and vanished into the crowd. An instant later the students there started getting visibly agitated again. Various yelps of pain and shrieks of protest could be heard, presumably the results of the fox twins unleashing hell upon any witch or wizard they could get their teeth on.
"Is… is that okay? I mean, wasn't that a really bad thing to do?" Harry asked. He had a very concerned expression as he stood on his toes, trying to see over the crowd.
"Oh yeah, it'll be fine. You saw how fast the girls are, right?" Fred reassured him.
George nodded and added, "And they're really good at dodging, too. Chances of someone being able to tag 'em are pretty slim."
"No, I meant-"
"Oh, the throwing thing," George broke in. "That's fine. They're pretty light, so they only hit hard if they want to. Besides, foxes always land on their feet."
"No, brother, that's not right at all. It's donkeys. Donkeys always land on their feet."
"I'm not sure about that…" George muttered, rubbing his chin. "You know what this means, right? We're going to need a donkey, a catapult and two kegs of beer."
"Good call. You'd have to be a sadistic madman to fire a sober donkey out of a catapult."
"No! That's not what I meant!" Harry insisted. "I mean, they're eating someone's face. Isn't that illegal, or at least not allowed?"
"Oh, Harry. Don't be silly. They're not eating-"
A scream of, "Somebody help! They're eating her face!" came from the other side of the platform.
"...so there's a slight possibility they're eating someone's face," Fred conceded. "And of course letting your familiar eat people isn't not allowed, not even if they're only eating part of them. It'd be kind of insane if it was, right?"
"Of course, making people fire off streams of slug-laced projectile vomit isn't allowed either, but that happens once or twice a month," George added. "Then there's the Jelly-Legs and Leg-Locker curses. Someone eats floor and gets sent to the Hospital Wing with a broken nose weekly, at minimum."
Harry stared at them in horror.
"Eh, what'd you expect? I mean, you give a bunch of irresponsible kids sticks that can set people on fire and cram them in a castle with the bare minimum amount of supervision for nine months. It's a pretty predictable
outcome," George chuckled.
Fred nodded. "And that's not even counting the bears, dire wolves, poison snakes, elementals, psychotropic frogs, hypnotoads, turbo-weasels and bunnies."
"That… makes a lot of sense, I guess. Wow. How does anyone even survive to grow up?"
"Wizards don't break as easy as muggles to begin with, and we have magical healing," George explained. "Something that'd cripple them for good just puts us in the Hospital Wing for a couple of days."
"That's completely insane."
"I'm pretty sure throwing your pet snake at someone and causing a riot is pretty insane too," George pointed out.
Harry huffed and retorted stiffly, "I wasn't throwing the Adder at her. I was throwing him to her. It's not my fault she panicked for absolutely no reason and threw him at someone."
"You're right. Getting hit in the face with a snake is no reason to panic. Why, just the other day I-" George suddenly cut off, staring into the chaotic cluster of students. "Oh, crap. Did you see that?"
"What?"
"That weird wolf-thing from Slytherin. It was chasing the girls around. Look, there it goes again."
Fred squinted at the crowd. "Oh yeah. Damn it, why do the keep bugging that thing? It's gonna eat them one of these days."
"Yeah. We should probably intervene in a calm, responsible and adult fashion," George suggested. He looked down at his trunk laden trolley, grinned, then looked back at the mob. "Three knuts says I can trunk the ugly bastard upside the head."
"Ha. Only if I don't get it first."
Harry looked back and forth between them, then asked, "Are you sure that's a good idea? It looks kind of big and mean."
"Oh, it's obviously a bad idea," George said, tightening his grip on the handle of his trolley. "But even if they were asking for it, we've gotta help the girls. They're our Familiars."
"Plus that bastard stole my blueberry tart last year. Right off the table! He tasted my tart, so now he must taste the wooden flavor of justice!"
"Yeah, that too. You want us to pick up your snake if we see him?"
"Uh, sure," Harry replied. "Just grab him right behind the head if you pick him up. He doesn't usually bite but it's better to be careful, especially if he's surprised, irritated or bored."
With a curt nod, George turned back toward the crowd. Fred had already assumed a starting stance, hands tight on the trolly and legs tensed beneath him. The two froze like that for a long moment. Then, at some signal that Harry was completely unable to detect, they launched themselves forward. As their trolleys began to pick up speed, they screamed.
"Taste the trunk of justice!"
"Cough the tart up, asshole!"
It worth noting that upon reaching the mob, both brothers managed to miss the weird wolf-thing completely. In fact, Fred nearly managed to flatten the very Familiars they were trying to save. The near miss did save the girls regardless, as both foxes evaded the charging trunk by leaping atop it, but it was a close thing. The four vanished into the crowd in an instant, leaving one very confused weird wolf-thing standing awkwardly at the edge of the melee.
It worked out well for everyone involved.
Harry corrected his initial assessment as more loud cries came from the mob.
It worked out well for everyone involved, except for whoever the twins just brained with a trunk.
More screams.
Right. Two trunks. Well, three if you count the-
Goddamn. I had no idea something that big'd fit in an elephant. Who do you call when there's a trunk stuck in your back door? I doubt the movers'll want to touch that one.
"That's not very funny," Harry scolded, looking over his shoulder. The Adder was coiled up atop his trunk, watching the growing brawl with interest. "When did you get back?"
Just now. I decided playing snake-in-the-tunnel wasn't worth getting crushed and beat feet the second that started up. Beat scale. You know what I mean. Getting stepped on makes for a bad day. Probably not as bad as the 'movers' are gonna have dragging that trunk downstairs, but bad all the same.
"I told you, that's not funny. Just think about Fred! He just lost his… Oh god."
Holy shit. He's going after it! Awesome! This is some quality fucking entertainment right here. Maybe we should get him some string so he doesn't get lost.
"Do you… do you think we should help?" Harry asked reluctantly. "It's kind of swinging its trunk around and hitting people. Uh, both trunks. Someone could get hurt."
By 'help' I assume you mean 'make things worse,' right? Because I'm totally down with that.
"That isn't what I meant and you know it."
C'mon. I bet you it'll just pop the trunk right out if we hit it hard enough. I'm pretty sure proctologists charge by the cubic meter, so we'd save someone a hefty chunk of change. We'd be doing them a favor.
"No they don't, no we wouldn't and no we're not."
Come on. I'll give you £10 if you do it.
"You're a snake. You don't have money, Adder."
So I'll shake down some kid later. I just need you to make me a little sign that says, "Hand over the cash or I'll bite your balls," for me to hold. Wait, I don't have hands. Sonuvabitch. This my be why Mom warned me about spending too much time with humans.
"She said that?"
Of course not. She said if I bit too many, I was bound to catch something eventually. Nasty things, you never know where they've been. Except for that one. We know where that one's been and It sure as hell wouldn't make Mom proud if I bit him. We should probably do something now while we can still see a foot. I'm guessing there's not a whole lot in there to breath.
"I don't know if-"
Don't be a pussy, kid.
Harry froze. "What did you just say?"
Oh, sorry. Do you need me to say it louder? I said… crap, that's as loud as I can hiss. Come over here and bend down so I can lick your ear. I might even enjoy it, considering that my tongue would be in a giant pussy.
Glaring at the snake, Harry deliberately walked around behind his trolley and braced himself.
"Oh, it's on, snake."
Sweet. Try for a double somersault with a half twist this time. That would be awesome.