Launching Ships, Chapter One

Fred Weasley was not thinking about the fact that Love Poison would make a great product line for their fledgling mail-order business when he came up with the recipe. He was not even thinking about all the amusing pranks it could be used for. And he certainly didn't know that it would one day help end the war. No, all he was thinking about was adequately humiliating Umbridge.

That damn woman! Everything about her was nasty and saccharine and utterly repulsive, from her horribly unfashionable pink cardigans (pink everything, actually- even the inside of her office was horribly pink. It was as if she had wanted to be a princess when she was little and never grew out of it) to her toad-like mug and her condescending tone. Or it was the fact that she was about as competent at teaching as a baboon with a red backside. Or maybe it was the fact that she was making his honorary little brother writing lines in his own blood. Yeah, that would definitely do it, to.

He couldn't remember ever hating anyone as much as he hated her! Even Snape, their greasy-haired and snarky Potions teacher, was at least competent, if not at teaching. And the only torturing he did was making poor, maligned trouble-makers scrub cauldrons without magic in detention...

All the usual pranks didn't seem to cut it anymore. To be sure, it was fun to convince the house-elves to ensure there were a healthy dose of cockroaches in her food, or bribe Peeves with enhanced dungbombs to follow her around blowing raspberries when she tried to say anything. (Yes, that was his doing.) He and his brother, George, actually had a bet going, as to who could make the woman more miserable, and, for once in their lives, they were working separately. George was winning, and Fred couldn't stand that!

He had to try something drastic. No simple sticking charm on her pink lacy (gag) seat cushion would suffice anymore, not if he wanted to win the bet (and, more important, make her leave the castle so she could never again torture Harry or crush the spirits of enterprising young pranksters. But what? He turned back to his (carefully warded) prank notebook with a sigh; he had already tried most of these, and those he hadn't were either no good or had already been discussed with George (and were therefore off-limits). And then, on the last page, he found it.

He'd nicknamed the project "Love Poison" as a joke, because he'd been trying to (hypothetically only) come up with the ideal love potion. He was trying for a potion that was as powerful as amortentia, but more insidious- pale features, glazing eyes, and a non-stop obsession with the target would definitely tip those around him or her that there was a love potion at work. It also has to have a minimal odor or taste, so that it could be slipped into drinks, and it had to have an instant (or nearly instant) antidote, so that actual mistakes could be quickly rectified, and there has to be a specific, but easy, scan for it, since it was supposed to be hard to detect in the regular way.

It was one Hell of a project, but it would be a perfect way to win the contest, and to make Umbridge wish she'd never been born. Now all he needed was a way to test his enhanced recipe...

"Hey Harry?"

His honorary brother looked up from the textbook he'd been reading with tired green eyes. "Hey Fred," he responded.

Fred didn't even ask how he knew it was him. "Harry, can you help me? And keep it a secret?"

"What do you need?"

"I have a recipe for a potion that I want to try out."

"And?" Harry looked confused. "You know I'm hopeless at potions, and I'm not really on good terms with Snape, either. Do you want me to try to get detention with him so you can sneak into his lab, or..."

"No, no, nothing like that," Fred said, putting up his hands hastily. "No, I was wondering...is the basilisk still down in the Chamber of Secrets?"

"Yeah, I assume so. Why?"

"How do you get down there?"

"Um, you say 'open' in parselmouth to the tap in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom and slide down the pipe- it's really dirty- and then from there you have to go down a partially caved-in tunnel. When you get to the big doors at the end, say open again and it will open. It's in the main chamber down there- it's probably all rotted though. Do I want to know what you're planning?"

"Well, I'm going to bribe Snape to help me with a prank potion, to be used on Umbridge. Basilisk anything is worth more than his salary, you know..."

"Um, can you record the parseltongue or something? I'm really tired...and I have to study and finish my Transfiguration essay before detention tonight."

Fred's nostrils flared. "You have detention with that bitch? Again?"

"It's not that bad," Harry mumbled.

Fred gritted his teeth. He wanted to force-feed whoever had taught Harry that it was "not that bad" to be physically tortured by his own DADA teacher to Norberta the Norwegian Ridgeback. "Well, anyway, can you teach me how to say 'open'?

Harry frowned. "I can try..."

"Then please do," said Fred, taking out a self-inking quill and opening his notebook again.

"Ok..." Harry stuck his tongue between his lips, lost in thought. "You know I don't know how to do it deliberately...this could take some time. Open," he said. "There, did I get it?"

"No, that was English," Fred informed him.

"Hmm. Open. How's that?"

"Still English."

"Ssssshsssisisisehhh. Ssss sehhh shesstst?"

"There, you're doing it!" Fred said, exited. "Say it again!"

"Ssssshsssisisisehhh," Harry repeated.

"Is ssshssisssetehhh right?"

Harry flushed a brilliant red. "Um. No. I'm not translating that."

"Why, what did I say?"

"Um. Let's just say that it was very dirty. As in, your mum would scourgify your mouth dirty."

"Now I really want to know!"

"Oookay, moving on. Repeat after me: "Ssssshsssisisisehhh."

"Sssssssisisisehhh?"

Harry blushed again. "You just told me that you wanted to mate with me. Maybe this isn't such a good idea."

"I what?"

"Yes. And it wasn't that clean, either. Okay, let's try again: 'Ssssshsssisisisehhh."

"Ssssshsssisisiseheff," Fred said.

Harry giggled. "Apparently my skin looks like an overweight tarantula. Come on, you can try this with me? Ssssshsssisisisehhh."

"Sswssshsssisisisehhh," Fred said.

"Ok, and that meant 'face-diapers'. Try again, just say ssssshsssisisisehhh."

"I am trying! Ssssshsssisisisehhh."

Harry blinked a few times. "That's right! Again."

"Ssssshsssisisisehhh."

"You got it!" Harry grinned. "Now say this: swessff sssehh fstistisssss, sssssies."

"Swessff sssehh fstistisssss, sssssies," Fred repeated dutifully. "What did I say?"

"Hey Umbitch, piss off."

Fred laughed so hard his stomach ached at the thought of him saying that and Umbridge having no idea she'd been insulted.

"It's what I do sometimes in detention," Harry continued, and Fred sobered at once. "She just thinks I'm trying not to cry or back-talk, but I'm actually calling her names. It's brilliant!"

"What'll be more brilliant is when I get this potion right and she falls in love with a blast-ended skrewt," Fred retorted over his shoulder as he left for Moaning Myrtle's boarded up bathroom.