Chapter 1: Humiliation
Harry and Hermoine sat at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, calmly eating their breakfast while between them Ron sat, furiously scribbling on a piece of parchment.
"Honestly, Ron, how do you manage to be behind before classes have even started?" Hermione asked. "You had all summer to do this."
"I was busy living, Hermione, living," Ron groaned. "I know you'd like nothing more than to read and do homework all summer, but us normal people enjoy doing other things."
Hermione's eyes narrowed. "I have hobbies," she insisted. Ron snorted. Hermione looked to Harry for support. His eyes widened and he struggled for an appropriate response.
"Like what?" Harry asked, lamely.
Hermione pushed her lips together in a thin line. "Knitting," she said.
"Knitting?" Ron burst into laughter. "You mean like what little old ladies and women like my mum do?"
Hermione's cheeks colored and she stood up suddenly.
"I think it's… interesting?" Harry tried, lamely.
She opened her mouth to say something, but Ron burst out with "Knitting!" and then dissolved into another round of laughing. She closed her mouth firmly, gathered her things, and left.
"I think you hurt her feelings," Harry informed Ron.
"She'll get over it," Ron said, going back to his homework.
"Yeah, well, we're on our own with our homework until she does. Of course, you could apologize and then she'd help us again."
"Apologize for what?" Ron asked, irritably, "It's not my fault she has a stupid hobby. You and I have perfectly respectable hobbies- Quidditch."
Harry could not argue with that. But Hermione could hold a grudge for a while and Ron could be stubborn. He hoped they would at least still talk to each other. He sighed and looked around the Great Hall until something caught his eye.
"I wonder who that package is for," Harry said absentmindedly. He was staring at what appeared to be a large box flying by itself. It veered haphazardly across the room, coming closer and closer… to him. It suddenly landed with a THUMP right in front of him, clattering the dishes all around and splattering some nearby students with food.
Ron screamed as a feathery little ball landed right in Harry's bowl, splattering what was left of it all over Harry's robes and Ron's paper. Ron lifted his parchment up and made a face as the porridge slid off the paper. Harry examined his bowl and found a tiny pygmy owl laying in it, not moving except for the heaving of its chest. He picked the poor thing up and set it down on a napkin.
Harry sighed and pulled out his wand to clean himself up, thankful he was finally back at school and could do so again so easily. He cleaned the owl off, as well, and stroked it on the head. He vaguely wondered how to tell the gender of an owl. He had been informed that Hedgwig was a girl, so he had never needed to know how to check before. But it wasn't important.
"Blimey," Ron said. "Who sent you such a large package?"
"I dunno," Harry said, looking at the name on the box. "It's not for me," he said, looking around. Harry looked at the poor fluffball and could not imagine how it had managed to carry such a large, heavy box by itself. He examined the box more closely and found a loop of string lying against the side of it. Apparently someone had attached string to holes on each side of the top of the box in order to give the poor owl something to hold onto since it was too large to carry in the talons like a normal package.
"Is it for me?" Ron asked, already reaching out for it.
"I-it's mine," squeaked a voice before Harry could tell him no. Ron and Harry looked at one another then looked around. They could not see anyone around them. Finally Harry stood up and looked over the package. A first year was sitting on the other side of the table. Harry was so used to ignoring everyone around him that he had not even noticed her there. She had very dark skin and short black hair. Harry noted she, like most other first-years seemed extremely small to him. He swore he had never been quite that tiny.
"Well you won the jackpot, didn't you?" Ron said. "Go on, open it! Let's see what your Mum and Dad sent you."
The girl's eyes suddenly darted to Harry's forehead and she opened her mouth to speak.
"Yes, yes, that's Harry Potter," Ron butted in before she could say anything. "I'm Ron Weasley. What, haven't heard of me? Strange. I'm loads more famous than he is." He tapped her package. "C'mon c'mon open it. I'm dying to see what's inside."
The girl gave one awed look at Harry before looking at Ron and blushing. Ron noticed this and suddenly sat up straighter. Harry rolled his eyes. The girl stood up and stared uncertainly at the box.
Ron stood up as well, his homework quickly forgotten. He stared at the package, his eyebrows furrowing together. "What's all this on here?" he asked.
Harry's eyes widened as he noticed the thick layer of tape covering the entire top of the box. Clearly her parents had wanted to make sure the package was secure. "It's called tape," he told Ron. "It's a muggle invention to keep packages closed." He looked at the girl. "Are your parents muggles?"
"My mum is," she answered, shyly. "My father's a wizard but he travels a lot, so mum knows how to use owls…" she gestured helplessly at the package. "But I need scissors to open it…"
"How 'bout a knife?" Ron offered, holding a dull butter knife out to her.
She blushed and took the knife. "It might work," she said uncertainly. She grasped the butter knife in her hand and poked the box with it. Ron's hand twitched as if he wanted to take the knife from her and stab the box himself. She tried a little harder and it bounced off. "Father might have magically enhanced the tape… he doesn't have much faith in Muggle devices," she said as she continued to try to stab the box to no avail. A few moments passed before Ron turned to Harry.
"Do you think alohomora would work?" he whispered.
Harry shrugged. Ron discreetly pulled out his wand and tapped the box on the side the girl could not see, reciting the incantation under his breath. Ron smiled as the lid burst open, but his smile froze as the contents of the package proceeded to burst forth from the box in a steady stream of pastel colors. They all stood horrified as bits of clothes started falling on people around them. To everyone's horror, or amusement, it soon became apparent what most of the clothes in the box were: knickers and bras.
The entire Great Hall slowly quieted, only to be filled with bursts of laughter or disgust quickly after. McGonagall's voice soon boomed over theirs, "Anyone who tries to keep those clothes which are not theirs will receive detention. And anyone who makes anymore remarks will lose points for their house." Everyone turned to see McGonagall standing up, her wand pointed at her throat to enhance the sound. "Please bring me the clothes in question and continue on with your breakfast."
A pair of knickers landed on Ron's face. He spluttered and knocked them off, his face turning an even deeper shade of red. He turned to apologize to the girl but right as he opened his mouth she suddenly stood up and fled the Great Hall.
McGonagall brought over an armful of clothes and deposited them into the box. "Just what is going on here?" she demanded to know.
Ron gaped. His eyes darted from his unfinished homework to McGonagall. Harry sighed and said, "It was my fault professor." Ron turned his eyes on Harry but Harry looked from Ron to Ron's homework pointedly. "I was trying to help her open her package and well, used magic. It kind of backfired…"
"I should say so," McGonagall said. "Though I expected you, Mr. Potter, would have better control over the potency of such a simple spell. 10 points from Gryffindor. Now, come along, we are going to return Ms. Wayne's possessions and you are going to apologize to her. And I'll be seeing you in detention tonight."
"Yes, Professor," Harry said solemnly.
Ron sat down, his mind buzzing. He appreciated Harry taking the fall for him, but as he glanced at his homework, he wondered how he would be able to focus now after all that excitement.
"Smooth," one of his brother's said as he took a seat on Ron's right where Harry had been sitting.
"Yeah, we always said you were the smoothest with the ladies!" chirruped Fred, taking Hermione's seat to Ron's left.
"What do you want?" Ron said, glancing at the two of them. "I'm a little busy, can't you see?" he pointed at his homework?
"What we saw," George began, "Was you mucking things up and letting Harry take the fall."
Ron pointedly picked up his quill and resumed his homework.
"Pretty smarmy of you, if you ask me," Fred said, grabbing an unused goblet and examining its contents. He used an unused fork to spear a sausage and happily munched on it.
"It was an accident!" Ron said, harassed. He looked up to grab his drink, not wanting to knock it over on his parchment, and noticed George quickly retracting his hand from near it.
"Hey, did you do something to my drink?" he demanded to know, grabbing the cup and looking into it. He glanced at George.
George shrugged but smiled. "You're paranoid, mate."
"It's not paranoia when it's you two, it's being smart. Especially lately…" Ron retorted. Fred stuffed a piece of omelet in his mouth and reached for his drink. Ron snatched his goblet before he could get to it and downed it.
"What'd you do that for?" Fred said, put out. Ron ignored him and went back to work. George rolled his eyes.
"Hey that looks good, whatchu eating?" George asked.
Ron lifted his arms up in the air in an annoyed gesture. "Any bloke can see it's un omelette du fromage," he said irritably. He lowered his arms and went back to writing, but he hesitated, his eyebrows furrowing. "Omelette du fromage?" he repeated. "Omelette du fromage!" he exclaimed.
"Well, it works," Fred said, putting down his silverware and patting his full stomach.
"But for how long?" George pondered out loud. Ron's eyes widened.