Me: Hi again~! ^_^ So this chapter is a bit longer than the others, and hopefully meets with satisfaction.
Frankie: *sulking*
Me: He's just annoyed at me for saying that no, he cannot molest Remus. Again.
Remus: Thanks for that. Anyway, she doesn't own anything in this story, except for the Abigails and the auburn-haired sixth-year—whose name does show up here.
Doctor: She may have also noticed that the characters were a tad bit wonky, so, apologies. Now, on with the story! Allons-y!
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Still a bit wet, Ron and Harry walked back to the castle. They went into the Gryffindor common room, and, ignoring the curious stares of other people, disappeared into their dormitory. They placed the cold, and slightly smelly robes on the drying rack in the center of their dorm, and changed silently into their spares. The two boys looked at each other, squared their shoulders, and returned to the common room. The Abigails were sitting on a couch, the stubby one lounging, the brunette one braiding the hair of the tiny one who sat with her legs hugged to her thin chest and her back to the other two. Harry and Ron sat down slowly across from them. Neither group said anything.
The rest of the dormitory seemed to stay quiet, except for a few pats on the back and "thanks for the fun"s from random classmates who happened to walk by the five. After a few awkward moments, Hermione came and broke the tension by flopping down in between the two boys with a huff. She glared first at Ron, then Harry.
"How'd all that foolishness start, anyway?" she asked. "You two didn't seem like the type at first." Ron looked across her at Harry, who in turn was staring incredulously at Hermione.
"You honestly think we started it?" Harry asked. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the brunette Abigail tense, and start braiding the tiny one's hair much more gently to make up for her slip. The burly one shifted in her seat, seemingly coincidentally leaning forward. Harry blinked, but turned back to Hermione.
"Well, if you didn't, then who did?" she asked, eyes betraying a flicker of curiosity.
"I suddenly saw Ron sitting in the mud, walked over to find him, and..." He trailed off, suddenly confused. He rounded on Ron, who looked as though he were desperately trying to tempt the cushions into eating him, and, failing, decided to stuff himself in them. Harry snapped in his face to get his attention, and Ron looked up sheepishly. "Why were you in the mud, Ron?" The redhead bit his lip.
"Well, you see... I had spaced out in our conversation to see one of the Abigails. I think it was the brunette. She appeared to be in intense conversation with something in the puddle." Harry saw the Abigails shift again, this time the tiny one with them. Her finished braid swung behind her head as she turned to lean against the back of the couch. "I asked her what she was doing, and she said that she'd lost this plastic ring of hers. So I said I'd help her, and then she smiled and sat me down in the mud before sprinting up into that tree." His eyes grew vacant, remembering. "She did this wicked twirl around the branch—"
"That's enough, Ronald," Hermione cut in sharply. She turned to Harry again. "I assume this is where you come in?" Harry opened his mouth to answer before someone came up to him. It was that sleepy auburn-haired sixth year. He yawned slightly, stretching as he stood in front of the three.
"Minnie wants to see you thr—wait," he said slowly, blinking at Hermione. He shook his head. "Not you. Those two—" he pointed to Harry and Ron— "and those three," he finished finally, spinning around and finding the Collective Abigail. Harry and Ron looked at each other, a sinking feeling occurring somewhere in the vicinity of their spleens. The sixth year yawned again, then snapped suddenly, making all six first years jump. "Come on, then, haven't got all day."
Harry stood up slowly, gesturing to Ron to do the same. He bit his lip and attempted to smooth down his unruly hair, to no avail. The Collective Abigail stood up, nearly in unison, and the five filed out after the sixth year.
As they walked down the hallway, it was completely silent except for the humming of the older boy and the occasional sneeze or cough. Tiny Abigail was pulling her hair out of her braids absent-mindedly, the soft light hair falling in slightly wavy curtains around her face. She shook her head, accidently hitting Ron in the face.
"Sorry," she whispered, grinning impishly. The redhead turned away with a huff, crossing his arms across his thin chest. They finally arrived at the office of the stern Transfiguration professor, where the sixth year left them.
"I'm going back to the Common Room," he yawned. Brunette Abigail stopped him.
"Wait!" she said. He turned back around, blinking. She crossed her arms and stuck her chin out. "Since you keep popping up, we might as well learn your name." He hesitated for a second, and yawned some more. A defiant look from Brunette Abigail made up his mind.
"It's Bartholemew," he said, scratching the back of his head in embarrassment. Ron looked at the sixth year in amazement, then sputtered with laughter. In his slightly hysterical mirth—which may have been fueled by a breakdown caused by beliefs that McGonagall would roast them alive, spread their roast corpses on stale biscuits, and feed them to Hagrid, a "certainty" promised him by Fred and George—he sat down on the ground and pounded a fist on the wall.
Said wall promptly opened, and an annoyed McGonagall stepped out, a tartan tin of ginger newts in her hand. Bartholemew glided away, mumbling something about nap time and bumping into a few people. Ron looked in horror at the tin. Harry looked in horror at the teacher. The Collective Abigail looked at each other, and mischievous grins spread across their faces. Harry gave up on looking at McGonagall, and cast a terrified glance at the triplets.
"Do come in," McGonagall hissed through clenched teeth. The five scurried to obey, and the wall-that-was-actually-a-door swung shut behind them.
Hastily conjured chairs crowded the generally mano a mano spot at the professor's desk, and the five first years sat in them. McGonagall sat in the chair behind the desk, lips pressed into a thin line in annoyance.
"Have a ginger newt," she said with forced calm, shaking the tin at them. Ron, panicked, looked from the cheerfully menacing fire nearby in the grate to the tin of stale biscuits. He began to shake. McGonagall shoved one of the cookies in his face.
"I insist," she growled. Ron twitched, and suddenly fell off his chair to roll on the floor, gibbering about "roasty toasty Hagrid snacks". McGonagall blinked, and put the cookie back in the tin.
"Should I be worried?" she asked the remaining four. Harry shrugged, still staring at the convulsing red-head.
"I think he's foaming at the mouth," Tiny Abigail remarked serenely, calmly pulling her legs up onto her chair as Ron neared her. McGonagall cleared her throat, and looked away.
"Well, he'll be fine," she decided. She turned her attention instead to the four remaining students, and her sharp glare was back.
"Whatever possessed you to act this way?" she demanded, slamming her hands down on the table and looking between Harry, horrified, and the Collective Abigail, calm. Brunette Abigail cocked her head to the side, listening.
"We'd love to tell you ma'am," she said, gesturing to the other two. She slipped off her chair and headed for the door. McGonagall looked at her strangely, but her attention was stolen by the other two.
"And suddenly, a marmoset swung from the tree and shoved Harry in the mud—right Harry?—and he fell down by Ron. They started throwing mud—not at us, but at the marmoset," Burly Abigail recounted, crossing her arms over her chest. Harry nodded mutely at the bits where she glanced over at him. Tiny Abigail's dark blue eyes grew vacant and her pupils shrank to tiny slits.
"It was controlled by someone with mischievous intent, someone destined to appear through this door," she said harshly, her voice echoed with a demonic undertone. At this cue, Brunette Abigail yanked open the door, and Malfoy fell through the opening. The three Abigails and Harry, who was getting a feel for this plot by now, jumped to their feet with a triumphant "ah-HA!", Tiny Abigail's voice now back to normal after she cleared her throat surreptitiously.
Malfoy blinked up at the four and McGonagall, his eyes wide. McGonagall's left eyebrow disappeared into her hair.
"Am I to believe that this entire mud fight was started because of an insane monkey that lives nowhere near here that was controlled somehow by a fellow first-year?" she asked. The Collective Abigail's eyes widened innocently.
"Oh, no, Professor! It's most certainly the fault of the marmoset." The professor was now thoroughly confused, but did not let it show.
"Explain," she barked. The Collective Abigail grinned at each other.
"The marmoset was in full control of its actions. It was only a pet of Malfoy, here, and noticed how much he didn't like poor Harry and Ron. So it took revenge into its own hands. Paws. Limbs. Whatever they're called on a monkey." McGonagall was now annoyed at the children for wasting her time.
"Are you planning on showing any evidence?" she asked. Burly Abigail grinned, and waved at Tiny Abigail. She skipped merrily the three steps over to Malfoy, and cheerfully pulled up his pantleg to the knee.
"Ta-da!" she exclaimed, pointing to the lone blond hair that was found there. With a hummed fanfare, courtesy of the two other Abigails, and a drum roll, courtesy of Harry, she plucked the hair off his knee. She grinned. "It's from his head! Mystery solved, good work soldiers, back to the—" she stopped here, because a mystical Author Intervention had stuffed a kumquat in her gob.
Don't say that, it's probably copyrighted. She chewed through the fruit, and pouted.
"Can I at least make him say the other thing?" she asked the rightmost wall. The others in the room looked at each other, all thinking along the same lines of she's-crazy-must-get-away-before-the-crazy-contaminates-my-brains.
Meh. Why not. Tiny Abigail grinned, and bent down. She whispered something in Malfoy's ear, and he looked up at her, thoroughly confused and a bit annoyed.
"Why should I do that?" he grumbled. Tiny Abigail huffed.
"Just say it," she said. Malfoy mumbled something that sounded like "fine".
"And I would have gotten away with it, too, if it weren't for you meddling kids," he said, shaking his fist. McGonagall shook her head and pinched the bridge of her nose. Her "pumpkin juice" had better be strong at dinner tonight...
"Fine," she said with forced calm. "If none of you will tell me, then you will all serve two nights detention cleaning off the trophies. And ten points off from each of your houses." She gestured towards Ron, who now was in the fetal position, as far away from the fire as he could get, muttering to himself. "Now get out of my sight and take him to the Hospital Wing. These tiles aren't protected against drool."
"Yes, ma'am," Harry and the Collective Abigail chorused. Malfoy made a general blah, but refrained from commenting. The four Gryffindors grabbed Ron, and began hauling him to Madame Pomfrey.
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I seem to be mentioning kumquats a lot. . . Oh well. Please review~! There's a Bartholemew hug in it for you~! ^_^