Oh! my name is JOHN WELLINGTON WELLS -
I'm a dealer in magic and spells,
In blessings and curses,
And ever-filled purses,
In prophecies, witches, and knells!
If you want a proud foe to "make tracks" -
If you'd melt a rich uncle in wax -
You've but to look in
On our resident Djinn,
Number seventy, Simmery Axe.
Hogwarts was very much like stepping into a muggle fairy tale. An enchanted castle, far off places, no electronic luxury, and a separation between the characters living in the world and the ever learning protagonist. Because that's what it was wasn't it? Everyone had to learn something, some just played larger roles in other people's stories is all. So far Harry had remained close to Ron, both fairly ignorant of the magic world beyond what they learned in fairy tales. And the stories were grossly exaggerated. Charms was simple enough to understand. It was the story book magic all muggle children had heard about. It was what they expected. Even if the teacher wasn't.
Transfiguration was another given, though decidedly a harder branch of magic, few picked up on the technique quickly. Hermione was one of them to Ron and Harry's amusement. Perhaps her grandmother or something or other was a witch. Or perhaps she was just like the Gryffindor head and transfiguration professor.
Herbology was a bore, though Neville seemed to excel in the dull class.
Defense against the dark arts (or DADA, he had heard older students call it) was a sham. The class was poorly lot and the teacher kept stuttering. Though if the curse of the teaching position were true, he'd be nervous too. That didn't impress anyone however. More were focused on the room itself. A strange smell of rot seemed to linger in the room.
Today was potions with Slytherins.
"Do you think what the older students said was true about Professor Snape?" Harry muttered.
"Doubt it. Seems like bad blood between Lions and Snakes though," Ron admitted, "And I've heard he's head of Slytherin. But most students talk bad about strict teachers so who knows."
We've a first-class assortment of magic;
And for raising a posthumous shade
With effects that are comic or tragic,
There's no cheaper house in the trade.
Love-philtre - we've quantities of it;
And for knowledge if any one burns,
We keep an extremely small prophet, a prophet
Who brings us unbounded returns:
It didn't take long for Fred and George to begin plotting. It was simple enough. They were going to turn Ron Weasley into a real Weasley. They'd worry about mum and dad later once they got their hands on Hermes who had gone missing the first night. And there was no convincing the twins to just ask Percy for the bloody bird. They'd manage.
"You got the brooms?"
"You got the fire crackers?"
They both nodded with devilish grins. Time to show Hogwarts the masters of disaster were back in action. It wasn't easy. But if it were easy it wouldn't be any fun. The trick was just to hold out long enough for the trick to play through. If all went well, you didn't get caught. If things went south, at least you had a good laugh.
This moment's prank of fascination was simple, good old fashioned chaos. Release a bunch of fire crackers simultaneously in the hall to surprise everyone. A good introduction to magic if they do say so themselves. Fred scrunched his eyes shut as they finished setting the crackers.
"Fred? You okay?"
"Yeah. Just a headache. Feels like a troll smashing things in my head. Like in a bathroom or something."
"Troll in the bathroom?" George dead panned. Fred sheepishly smiled at his brother.
"What can I say? My brain is just so fantastical for bringing that to mind."
George shrugged his shoulders. One of the only things he didn't share with his brother were the headaches. Always made him say weird things. Oddly enough, something similar seemed to happen within a six month span of him mentioning it. Though normally, they were great ideas for pranks.
For he can prophesy
With a wink OF his eye,
Peep with security
Into futurity,
Sum up your history,
Clear up a mystery,
Humour proclivity
For a nativity.
With mirrors so magical,
Tetrapods tragical,
Bogies spectacular,
Answers oracular,
Facts astronomical,
Solemn or comical,
And, if you want it, he
Makes a reduction on taking a quantity!
Snape was strict, blunt, and just plain mean. Not two minutes into the class he drilled Harry on various ingredients and potions. It was all gibberish to Ron. Though Hermione seemed excited and rather eager to answer, Ron was sure Neville could have answered the one about Wolfsbane, he seemed to understand a lot about Herbology.
He was paired with Harry. It didn't take long for Gryffindor to lose points. Ron could now see why students complained about Professor Snape. He was a git.
Oh!
If any one anything lacks,
He'll find it all ready in stacks,
If he'll only look in
On the resident Djinn,
Number seventy, Simmery Axe!
Percy read the letter carefully. So he wasn't mistaken. He could have a brother. Charlie wrote he would pay his alma mater a visit to see Ron for himself. Either that or just visit Hagrid. Charlie was surprisingly easy to distract, so long as it involved a creature. Regardless, he'd get the truth out of Charlie. He'd find out what happened.
He stretched from the table in the dorm, sliding the letter into one of his older books. He walked towards the dining hall when he tripped over a piece of sting. In seconds, there was a loud pop followed by a roar of squeaks. White mice and party hats lay everywhere in a heap mixed with candy and chess sets. His face quickly became the same shade of red as his hair.
"FRED! GEORGE!" Percy roared getting onto his feet. Two identical red heads peered from behind a corner.
"Aw Perc!"
"You ruined it!"
"Now we have to-"
"-start all over!"
"No. You will not. Twenty points from Gryffindor each," he grumbled trying to nurse away a headache named Fred and George.
He can raise you hosts,
Of ghosts,
And that without reflectors;
And creepy things
With wings,
And gaunt and grisly spectres!
He can fill you crowds
Of shrouds,
And horrify you vastly;
He can rack your brains
With chains,
And gibberings grim and ghastly.
"I'm sorry about the short notice," a tall red haired male said packing two trunks.
"Don't worry Charlie. It's all covered. Just keep us in the loop. Curious if this Weasley is anything like you."
Charlie smiled at his boss.
"Maybe. But first I need to find out if he is a Weasley."
"The way you were skipping suggests so."
Different members of the dragon sanctuary snickered at the image of their scar riddled dragon raiser skipping merrily down the halls. Many of them went to the infirmary believing they were delirious. Only hours later did they learn of Charlie's letter from Percy. A few had tried to read it. None had succeeded.
Despite that, everyone knew what the letter contained. A possibility of another Weasley. Those who were close to Charlie knew he was supposed to have another younger brother. They knew his mum was there during a Death Eater raid. A few were killed including two nurses and a red haired baby. In the arms of one nurse was the dead red, while the other nurse held a squirming red haired baby.
The nurse carrying the dead baby was Molly's nurse. The one carrying the live baby was the nurse of a mother who died in child birth with a father killed prior in the war. Both muggle born. The only reason Charlie knew that was because he had asked nurses questions when his little brother never came home. Only a batty old nurse told him anything. And she was about to be forced to retire in a week.
Still, chances like this were one in a million. He wasn't going to let this slip through his fingers. Besides, it'd be good to see Hagrid again. Last he saw him he had a baby Cerberus named Fluffy. Should be all grown by now.
Then, if you plan it, he
Changes organity
With an urbanity,
Full of Satanity,
Vexes humanity
With an inanity
Fatal to vanity -
Driving your foes to the verge of insanity.
Barring tautology,
In demonology,
'Lectro biology,
Mystic nosology,
Spirit philology,
High class astrology,
Such is his knowledge, he
Isn't the man to require an apology
"Hagrid, this is Ron," Harry introduced, "Ron, Hagrid."
"Ah, not another Weasley," Hagrid stated. Ron opened his mouth to interject but Hagrid kept speaking, "Spent half me life keepin yer brothers from the Forest I have."
"I don't have any brothers," Ron stated. Hagrid looked like a great injustice had been done. Eerily similar to when he discovered Harry knew nothing about the wizarding world.
"Don't have any brothers. Codswallop!" Hagrid began ranting, "You're as sure a Weasley as I've ever seen. You look like a little Charlie With Bill's ears. Say, you wouldn't happen to be interested in dragons would yah?"
Harry and Ron's eyes widened comically. Dragons?
"I doubt it's legal to own them," Ron squeaked. Hagrid snorted.
"Yup. You're Charlie's brother," he stated walking over to his large dog lovingly named Fang. Harry and Ron gave each other a look. Was this a wizard ing thing or a Hagrid thing?
"So," Harry began, "Is it normal for hats, mice and candy to be lying around in the halls?"
"And chess sets!" Ron said quickly, his ears burning hot. Many thought it nerdy he enjoyed chess but he couldn't help but take a set from the many piles of mismatched goods.
Hagrid snorted.
"Sounds like the Weasley twins are at it again. Love playing tricks they do. Guessing wizard crackers."
"Like party crackers?" Harry asked curiously. Hagrid gave a blank look not quite understanding.
"Don't care much for muggle contraptions. Might want to ask Pr'fessor Burbage. Knows lots about muggles, that witch."
"Oh."
Oh!
My name is JOHN WELLINGTON WELLS,
I'm a dealer in magic and spells,
In blessings and curses,
And ever-filled purses -
In prophecies, witches, and knells.
If any one anything lacks,
He'll find it all ready in stacks,
If he'll only look in
On the resident Djinn,
Number seventy, Simmery Axe!
The sorcerer's song by WS Gilbert was this chapter's poem. I enjoy it a lot. A bit of nonsense is also good for the soul. I hope you all enjoyed this installment of The Muggle Raised. Please Review.