Disclaimer: For some odd reason, I still don’t appear to own Harry Potter.
Now, before the real story, a short commercial break. This idea was introduced by Brownwen, so you all owe her a big thanks for this rather hilarious clip.
Now announcing…Parenting Class II- The Teachers
Rating PG-13 for Trelawney’s death predictions, McGonagall’s potty mouth, and Flitwick’s sugar high. Please, keep an eye on your own children (if you have any) and do not let them get any ideas from this. Thank you, and enjoy the clip.
“Do you think it’s dangerous?” McGonagall whispered, looking at the deep purple mixture in the glass vial, resting on Snape’s desk. “Maybe we should confiscate it.”
“Don’t be silly, Minerva,” chuckled Dumbledore, picking up the glass. “I’m sure if it were something dangerous, Severus would have found something when he cast a scan on it.”
“What exactly is it, Severus?” asked Flitwick, standing on an upturned cauldron to see the top of the counter.
“It appears,” Snape said, emerging from his private lab where he’d been testing it, “that it’s grape juice.”
“Ooooh,” squealed Flitwick, hopping up and down before falling to the ground with a small thud. “Can I have some? Please? I love grape juice!”
“Why don’t we all have a glass?” suggested Dumbledore, conjuring several glasses out of thin air and pulling the bottle out of Flitwick’s hands.
“Is is alright if I join you?” came Trelawney’s mystical voice from the door. The Divination professor had traded her green shawl for a rather vibrant red gauzy cape and bright green beads strung about her neck, a yellow skirt on beneath her silky blue shirt.
“We’d be honored if you’d join us, Sibyll,” Dumbledore smiled, creating another cup. McGonagall snorted and Trelawney ignored her, instead opting to glide over to the table and settle herself down primly on a wooden stool.
“Something about this doesn’t seem right,” muttered Snape as the headmaster thrust a glass into his hand. “I mean, for some reason, I think we used grape juice in something recent.”
“Nonsense,” said Dumbledore, taking a large swallow from his glass. “Mmm,” he grinned, smacking his lips in pleasure. “Tastes even better then normal.” In turn, each of the staff took a drink before quickly polishing off the rest. “Well, I’d best be heading back to my office,” said Dumbledore, rising to his feet.
But as soon as the man rose, he tripped, very unlike Dumbledore and fell to the ground. “Albus!” exclaimed the Transfiguration teacher, running over to the older man. But as soon as she got into range, a very odd thing began to happen. She collapsed next to the headmaster, her size about three times smaller then it had been.
“Who are you?” asked Dumbledore, looking blearily up at the other child. His long silver beard was gone, and his hair had turned to shoulder length brown locks. His blue eyes still twinkled, though this time in confusion. McGonagall had developed wavy, auburn hair, her face round and curious.
Snape let out a shout of alarm. “That wasn’t grape juice!” he cried, jumping to his feet. “That was the de-ageing potion!” But before the man could even turn to grab the cure, he too shrunk to less then half his height, until a small, skinny boy was standing in the middle of the room, his black hair not as greasy as normal and cut rather short to fall just above his ears.
Flitwick too had changed, though his height not as much as the others. He now had dark brown hair, cut rather short around his tiny head, with a pair of bright brown eyes, looking interestedly around the dungeon room. At most, this child, though he was five, looked to only be three or four, mostly because of his height.
Trelawney was a child, with wavy blonde hair that cascaded down her back to her waist. The glasses had slipped off her nose, to reveal a pair of inquisitive blue eyes, her brow furrowed in puzzlement. She was easily the tallest of the five there as she glanced at the other children.
Hermione came humming down the steps to Snape’s room, a book tucked snugly beneath her arm. “Professor,” she called, rapping on the door. “I came to get the lacewings you said I could have.” When no response greeted her, the Gryffindor stood chewing her lip, not sure if she should enter or not.
But when a shrill scream sounded from inside, she threw open the door, eyes widening in disbelief and horror. An extremely small boy was screaming and crying at the same time, as a taller blonde girl pointed at him, eyes mysteriously vacant. A dark-red haired girl was marching over to the duo, and before Hermione could blink, she’d slapped the blonde girl.
A thin, pale boy, made his way over and went to comfort the crying child, while the third boy stepped between both girls, who were glaring at each other. Closing the door softly, Hermione leaned back against it, pulse racing. ‘This can’t be happening…it just can’t. How did the five of them manage to make themselves children? I can’t just leave them in there…I need help. Lots of help.’
Opening her mouth wide, Hermione screamed, “DRRRRAAAACCCCOOOO! HHAAAARRRRRRRRRRYYYYY! ROOOOOOOOOOOOOONNNN! GIIIIINNNNNNNNNNYYYYY! HEEEEELLLLLPPPPP!”
The answer was instantaneous. Ron and Harry, who had been all the way at the Great Hall heard the scream and raced off, leaving their lunch abandoned. Ginny, researching for her Charms essay in the library, dropped the book and ran, Madam Pince shouting after her. Draco, curled up on his bed and writing an essay for Transfiguration, sprinted through the common room and towards the screams.
All four arrived at the same moment, conveniently crashing into one another and then rising, muttered curses and threats beneath their breath. “What’s wrong?” asked Ginny, clutching her head where Draco had kicked it.
“The teachers,” she whispered, nodding at the firmly closed door, her hand on the know to keep the children from opening it. “They’re not…themselves.” On sudden impulse, she turned to Draco and said, “Something’s wrong with Snape.”
His silver eyes took on a worried look, and pushing past Hermione, he entered the room, the girl slamming the door shut behind him. “You can do it,” she called encouragingly through the wood. “They’re just harmless little kids.”
To Draco though, they didn’t look harmless. They looked like predators, and he their prey. “Could you please explain where we are?” asked Dumbledore, walking towards Draco.
“Professor Dumbledore?” The Slytherin gasped, recognizing the periwinkle robes on the tiny wizard.
“My name’s Albus,” he said. “I’m not a professor.”
“You will die a very painful death,” remarked the blonde, her eyes boring into Draco. “There will be a huge inferno that will swallow you. But instead of dying, you will travel deep into the ground and melt in a pool of boiling lava.” The smallest child burst into a new wave of crying.
“Professor Trelawney? Professor Flitwick?” he gasped, the situation getting weirder by the minute.
“I’m Sibyll,” the girl pouted.
“And I’m Arden.” (1- The books never had a name for Flitwick. Arden, in Latin, means excitable and thrilled…something that I think fits him quite well.)
“Then you must be Minerva,” Draco concluded, looking at the redhead, “And you’re Severus,” he said, giving a smile to his godfather.
“You have seer blood!” cried Trelawney, rushing over and grabbing Draco’s hand, inspecting the lines on his palm carefully.
“No I don’t.”
“Then how did you know their names?”
“…”
“What’s that?” asked McGonagall, reaching into Draco’s robes where she’d spotted a glittery material.
“Hey! That’s mine,” Draco exclaimed, grabbing for Sparkles, only to miss the girl and fall flat on his face.
“Let’s play pony!” cried Flitwick excitedly, the tears abating at the most recent death prediction. Before Draco could rise to the floor, the child and sat on top of the Slytherin, his arms wrapped tightly about his neck and cutting off Draco’s air supply.
Scrambling unsteadily to his feet, Draco lunged at McGonagall, who was now preparing to dump the stuffed animal into a boiling cauldron. Seeing him, she squealed, thinking they were playing tag, and dashed away, Draco hot on her tail with Flitwick holding on for dear life.
Dumbledore calmly went and sat next to Snape. Politely, he said, “I’m Albus, it’s a pleasure to meet you Severus.”
Snape nodded. “Nice to meet you too. Do you know where we are?”
“Not really,” the blue eyes boy smiled. “But it doesn’t look like a bad place. That boy is rather funny,” he remarked, pointing at Draco.
“Can you believe that wicked girl?” sniveled Trelawney, gingerly touching her cheek where McGonagall had slapped her. “She hit me! Mars will make her suffer.”
“Are you a fortune teller or something?” asked Snape, looking at the girl with interest. “Because you’re pretty bad,” he continued before she could continue. “I don’t think it’s even possible for that boy to die in lava…he’d have to travel really deep.”
“You just don’t appreciate my inner eye,” she sniffed, nose in the air. “Because of your lack of believing, Venus will surely make your life very hard for the few days.”
Snape snorted, the whole thing stupid. Albus, on the other hand, was quite interested. “What’s my fortune?” he asked.
“Give me your hand,” Trelawney ordered. “Let’s see here,” she murmured, tracing over the palm. “It says that you will grow to be nothing more then a peasant and you shall die by being hit with a bludger.” Albus quickly tore his hand away, fear in his eyes.
“Don’t listen to her,” said McGonagall, primly sitting herself down on the seat next to Snape. “She doesn’t have a clue what she’s talking about.”
Trelawney flared. “I do too know what I’m seeing. I have the inner eye! It cannot be denied!”
“Idiot,” snickered the Transfig professor. “Stupid liar.”
The seer’s eyes welled up with tears. “That’s…it,” panted Draco, dropping down on the floor, his energy nearly spent. “No more name calling. And give me back my dragon.”
“But you’re too old to play with toys,” McGonagall sneered. “What do you need it for?”
“Can I see it?” asked Flitwick timidly, still sitting on Draco’s back. Nodding, the girl handed it to him, the child giving it to Draco.
“Hey! Why’d you give it back?”
“It is wrong to steal,” observed Albus. Turning to Draco, he said, “I’m afraid you know all of our names, but I can’t say I know yours.”
“Oh…I’m Draco.”
A timid knock sounded on the door and Hermione peeped in. “Is everything all right in there?”
“What the bloody hell do you think?” blurted out McGonagall, jumping up and crossing the room. “I’m stuck in here with no stuffed dragon, some loony girl who keeps predicting deaths, and I’m hungry!”
“Ummm…well…”
“Who are you?” Asked Dumbledore, standing in front of Hermione.
“I’m Hermione. A student here.”
“Where’s here?” asked Flitwick.
“Hogwarts.”
“You mean we’re at school?” squealed McGonagall, hopping excitedly on one foot. “I’ve always wanted to go to Hogwarts! But mum says I can’t until I’m eleven! I’m so excited! Did we get put in here because we’re too smart for our age?” She struck a regal pose before she pointed at Trelawney. “I’m afraid she doesn’t belong here though. Much too stupid.”
“I am not stupid! You are!”
“Am not!”
“Are too!”
“Am not!”
While the two bickered, the adorable Flitwick went over to Hermione and pulled gently on her robes. “I’m hungry.”
She took immediate liking to the child. “Then let’s go get you some food…ummm, what’s your name?”
“I’m Arden.”
“I want food too!” cried McGonagall, abandoning her argument with Trelawney.
“We’ll bring them our old room,” said Hermione. “We can have Harry get them some food from the kitchens…come on.”
Draco picked up his godfather and Trelawney, exiting the classroom and thrusting the young seer at Harry, the girl already beginning to examine Draco’s hands again. Ron took McGonagall from Hermione and Ginny picked up Dumbledore, Hermione clinging to little Arden.
“What happened to them?” whispered Ginny, Albus looking interestedly around the school as the group headed for the Charms corridor.
“They must have somehow taken the de-aging potion,” Hermione whispered back. “I don’t really know how…I mean, we just finished the project last week…wouldn’t they remember that?”
“Apparently not,” snickered Ron. “Though you’ve gotta admit, like this, Snape doesn’t look so dangerous.” The kid was chatting animatedly to Draco, a shy smile on his face. “And Trelawney looks much better without those glasses. Maybe we should get rid of them for good.”
“You will die a painful death by being trampled by a herd of rampaging unicorns,” Trelawney to Harry, poking him in the stomach. “But before you die, you’ll be pelted with rocks and in the end you’ll drown when you get thrown in a lake and sink to the bottom.”
“I like her better when she’s older,” Harry called back. “These predictions aren’t so gruesome sounding.”
The group arrived safely outside of Leviculus’s portrait, the jester looking at them curiously. “Begging your pardon,” he said, grinning at them all. “But I’m afraid you can’t go in. You know this room was closed off after the project last week…and it’s still in quite a state of disaster after the last occupant we had.” Hermione had the good grace to blush and look down at her feet.
“We just need a place to put the kids,” said Draco, smiling down at his godfather. “We have to go find…the uhh…the solution to the problem.”
“And food,” added McGonagall. “We’re hungry!”
“And food,” Draco agreed. “If someone stays in there with them, wouldn’t it be okay? It isn’t that badly damaged.”
“All right, but no telling the headmaster.”
“You’re looking at him,” whispered Ginny to Leviculus, the jester’s eyes widening.
“You don’t say?” he chuckled. “Go on in, I’ll have something to laugh at him about for quite a while.” Still laughing quietly to himself, Leviculus swung open and the group entered.
“It isn’t too bad,” Hermione defended. The chairs definitely had more stains to them, and the drapes had tears. Burn marks were in the carpeting and odd substances were on the walls.
“Looked a lot better before,” Draco scoffed. “Especially when Harry was the special one.” Harry blushed and rubbed the back of his head, dropping Trelawney to the floor. She immediately began to cry at the impact and Flitwick took up the shout.
“I’LL GO GET FOOD!” Harry shouted over the din, edging towards the door.
“ME TOO!” yelled Ron, going out the door and fleeing. Draco made a move to go as well, but Hermione grabbed him by the ear and shook her head, since trying to talk would have been pointless.
As soon as the two Gryffindor boys arrived back with food, the crying ceased and the children lunged for the food, though Snape and Dumbledore waited patiently by their appointed guardians for the time being. After several, calm minutes of munching and chewing, all hell broke loose.
It was McGonagall who started it. Reaching for another pastry, she knocked over Trelawney’s pumpkin juice into the seer’s lap. With a shriek, Trelawney lunged and tackled McGonagall, both girls going down in a tangle of arms and legs. “Bloody witch!” screeched McGonagall, pulling at Trelawney’s hair.
Flitwick jumped up and joined the fight, Hermione screaming in alarm of him being squished. Dumbledore started forward to break up the argument, when he got pulled into the fray by his ankle. Snape, the only smart one at the moment, had taken a place behind Draco and was watching the fight from a distance.
By the time the teenagers got them all separated, McGonagall was sporting a red cheek and bloody lip and Trelawney had tears all over her clothes and her beads were broken and scattered on the floor. Dumbledore had a bruise forming on his forehead and his eyes watering up with tears. But Flitwick was the most astounding.
The child was literally bouncing off the walls, his steps now jumps and a large, somewhat insane, smile on his face. “What did he eat?” Ginny demanded, looking at the other children.
“Two pastries,” said Snape softly.
“A bar of Honeyduke’s chocolate,” put in McGonagall.
“Three boxes of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans,” Trelawney piped up.
“And five cookies,” added Dumbledore.
Ron and Harry cowered at the glare Hermione sent their way. “WHAT WERE YOU TWO THINKING?” she exploded, stamping her foot madly on the ground. “THEY’RE ALL CHILDREN AND DON’T NEED THAT MUCH SUGAR!”
“Sorry Mione,” they chorused meekly.
At that moment, a knock sounded on the door. “It’s Madam Pomfrey,” called the nurse from outside. “May I come in?”
Flitwick bounced over and opened the door, before leaping back and now jumping up and down on the couches. “One of the portraits told me about your situation,” the nurse laughed. “I brought the cure, if you could round them all up.”
“You’re giving us poison,” Trelawney observed, looking at her drink that the mediwitch hand given her. “I won’t drink it.”
“Me neither,” said Flitwick still hopping about, the cure splashing over the edges.
“If you drink it, we’ll give you all a big bar of chocolate,” Hermione bribed.
“Really?” they all cried excitedly in unison.
“Promise,” she said.
All downed the liquid in quick sips, looks of contentment on their faces. “This shouldn’t put them to sleep,” said Pomfrey, settling herself on the couch. “So they’ll all be out of your hands in no time.”
And true to her word, seconds later, five adults were sitting where children had once been. “I can’t see!” cried the seer, reaching blindly around for her glasses, which were located on the floor in the dungeon.
“Good,” muttered McGonagall. Hermione giggled. Even as children, the two had disliked each other.
“Feeling better, Uncle Sev?” Draco grinned, looking at his uncle.
“No,” the Potions master growled, deeply embarrassed. Sweeping from the room in a flutter of robes, the other teachers followed, Flitwick still with a slight skip and Pomfrey helping Trelawney.
“That was definitely interesting,” remarked Harry.
“McGonagall was almost as bad as you,” Draco snickered, looking at Hermione. “Note the almost.”
The end.
:credits roll and everyone applauds:
And now, onto the real chapter of this fic! Please do use the bathroom and grab a few snacks. Also, if you are the sort who falls out of your chair laughing, I suggest padding the area around you with pillows. You’re in for one hell of a good time.
This chapter will focus quite a bit on D/Hr, but because of the new poll results, the next few shall be dedicated to Harry.
Parenting Class
Attack of the Dolls!
Poll results:
Choice A (Harry): 47
Choice B (Draco/Mione): 27
Little Harry wins!
All the students eagerly made their way to the Great Hall after their classes, quite eager to see what had become of the room. The tapestries had been fixed, though quite a number of jewels were still missing but would be sewn back on later. The floor had new planks of wood covering the holes, and all the tables had been replaced.
Hermione seated herself next to Ginny, with Harry next to her and Draco on Harry’s other side, both keeping their charge separated from his rather devious friend. “If I could have your attention please,” called McGonagall from the front, tapping a spoon on a challis.
A hush immediately fell over the students and all eyes turned to Dumbledore, who was rising to his feet. “First of all, I’d like to say that all of the students escaped are being treated in the Hospital wing. No one was lost.” Loud cheering broke out at this, and Dumbledore waited patiently so that he could continue. “However, I have had many complaints of none of the staff being at the hall during the incident. I’m afraid that would be my fault, the other professors and I had a meeting upstairs. But fortunately, Miss Granger performed an amazing spell and managed to subdue the flames.” Applause broke out once more, the brown haired witch turning pink with pleasure.
After a quick dinner, Hermione, Draco and Harry were heading back to their room when Dumbledore stopped them. “I believe you wanted to know how you did that spell, correct Miss Granger?”
“Yes, Sir,” she said eagerly.
“It has to do with Mr. Potter,” he said, smiling down at the boy. “When he gets frightened or upset, his accidental magic will kick in. This time, since I believe he was holding onto you, his magic was transferred to your wand and magnified your spell quite a bit.”
“A bit,” Hermione marveled, glancing down with wonder at the boy. “So it’s really Harry we should have been thanking at the hall.”
“No,” the wizard said, voice much more serious now. “It isn’t safe for Harry for others to know of his power. He is a mere child right now…if a select few heard of this, I fear for his safety.”
“We understand,” Hermione said softly, hugging Harry to her. Bidding good nights to the headmaster, the group made their way into their room and were all asleep moments later.
The next morning arrived all too soon for the students of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Bright sun streamed in through the windows, rousing the sleeping occupants for another day. The only student already awake at this time was the one and only, Hermione Granger.
The Gryffindor was curled up on her bed, rereading her Charms paper again before she turned it in on Monday. To her dismay, a pounding at the door and Leviculus’ calls that someone was at the door forced her to get up and go and see who it was.
“Isn’t it a little early?” she asked as Lavender dashed into the room, a sleeping Ron in her arms, Terry right behind.
“Can you do us a favor, Mione? Please?” Lavender begged. “I need you to watch over Ron for the day.”
“WHAT? Are you mad?” she said softer, afraid of waking the sleeping occupants. “After what he did yesterday?”
“I know, I know. But it’s an emergency. My mom went to the hospital last night…she was in a car accident and Professor Dumbledore told me I could go see her.”
“And…she was with my dad,” Terry grinned. “They’re dating,” he said, noting Hermione’s confused look. “The doctors say it isn’t serious, but we would like to see them.”
“Oh, of course!” Hermione exclaimed, earlier feelings leaving. “Draco and I will watch him till you get back. After all, it is a Saturday, so at least we don’t have classes.”
“You’re a lifesaver,” Lavender squealed, pulling her friend into a hug. Both parents quickly departed, leaving Hermione alone with a boy who would grow to be her best friend, but at the minute was a mortal terror.
Carefully picking Ron up, Hermione placed him on the bed next to Harry, hoping for a few more minutes of beautiful and peaceful silence. No such luck.
Just as she was leaving Harry’s room, Ron woke up, and glanced wildly around. “Where are Lavender and Terry?” he demanded.
“They had to go home,” Hermione sighed. “I’m going to be watching you today.”
As soon as Hermione left, placing a ward on the room so she’d be alerted if any explosions went off, the girl entered her room and settled back down to read her paper.
“Harry,” Ron whispered, shaking his friend excitedly. “Harry, wake up!”
“W-what?” The black haired boy blearily looked at Ron. “What are you doing here?” he asked, staring with interest.
“Hermione said Terry and Lavender had to go somewhere. So I get to spend the whole day with you! And guess what? I have something fun that we can do!”
“Is it dangerous? I don’t really want to get in trouble…”
“Nope. I took it from Lavender’s trunk. See?” he said, pulling out a small box from his robe that Lavender had thrown over him before bringing him over.
“What is it?”
“A doll making kit. But the instructions say we can make them act like real people. Want to make one?”
“Sure!”
Ron dumped the box out onto the ground, and three figures spilled out, all blank white cloth, an assortment of clothes, and a piece of paper. “Let’s see,” Ron said, picking up the instructions. “Can you read these?” he asked, turning to Harry.
“They say to get a piece of hair from the person you want the doll to look like…”
“You go get a piece of Draco’s hair. I’ll get Hermione’s.”
Harry gulped but nodded and started off for Draco’s room. Tiptoeing into the Slytherin’s lair, Harry took a deep breath, willing himself to go forward, a pair of scissors in hand. Draco was sleeping soundly, Sparkles on the pillow next to his head and his blankets pooling about his feet, only a pair of emerald sweat pants on him.
Raising the scissors, he lifted one of Draco’s bangs in his hand, his entire body shaking. At that second, Draco opened his eyes. Both stared at each other, green meeting silver, before both screamed, Harry from surprise that Draco was awake and Draco because Harry was screaming.
Harry made a slash with his hands as he fell back, the scissors cutting a long gash across Draco’s forehead. The shrieks ceased and Harry burst into tears, seeing the blood dripping down and falling to the floor. Calmly, Draco reached up and grabbed his comforter, holding it against the cut.
Hermione came running into the room, Ron clutching onto her with a piece of brown hair grasped in his fist. “I KILLED HIM!” Harry cried, rocking back and fourth on the floor, holding the ‘weapon’.
“No you didn’t,” Hermione shushed, making Draco let go of the blanket so she could look at the cut. “We just need a visit to the hospital wing.” Ron, seeing Harry upset, began to cry too, the noise rising to an insane level. And because of it, Hermione panicked.
Grabbing Draco by his wrist, she yanked him to his feet and scooped up both crying boys in her free arm, and raced out the door, dragging Draco along behind her. “I’m fine,” the Slytherin protested, having to jog so that he wouldn’t lose his arm. “Seriously Hermione, it’s just a scratch.”
Several students, up and about already, glanced at them curiously, several of the girl’s gazes lingering on Draco. Realization hit the Slytherin. “Bloody hell Hermione!” he cried, “I’m only half dressed!”
“Doesn’t matter,” she snapped, doubling her pace. “You can worry about that later, now you’re getting medical care.”
The four arrived at the Hospital wing seconds later and Hermione shoved Draco onto an empty bed. “Madam Pomfrey!” she hollered, dropping Harry and Ron onto the floor.
“You again,” she snorted, exiting from her office. “I swear Miss Granger, at least five times a week, someone from your group is in here for one injury or another. Is it you or Mr. Malfoy?”
“Draco. He’s bleeding.”
“I’m fine,” Draco growled as the nurse approached and pulled his hand away from the cut. “It’s just a scratch.”
“No it is not,” she reprimanded. “Head wounds always bleed more then they should, but besides that, this is still pretty bad. Fortunately for you, I can fix it. Now drink this.” She pushed a cup of foul looking green juice at Draco, who turned his nose up at it.
“Make me.”
“You will drink it or I’ll be forced to place you in a body bind and give it to you myself,” Pomfrey threatened. Reluctantly, Draco downed the glass, his face a mask of disgust. “See, it already worked. Now get along with you all. And I don’t want to see any of you for another week, are we clear?”
Heads nodded and Hermione herded them all from the room. Draco, quite enjoyed the attention the female population of Hogwarts was giving him this time (no longer worrying about the blood) and getting back to their room took about twice as long.
“Go get dressed in something more decent,” scolded Hermione, shoving Draco towards his bedroom. “And you two,” she said, looking at the young charges. “Just stay out of trouble and play quietly, okay?” Both nodded and disappeared into Harry’s room.
“Did you get Draco’s hair?” Ron asked, holding Hermione’s.
“No. I missed.”
“Then let’s go ask him for it. Hermione never even noticed when I took hers.”
Ron pulled Harry from the room over to Draco’s room and barged into the Slytherin’s. “We need a piece of your hair,” Ron declared, plopping himself down on the bed next to Draco, who was pulling on a pair of socks.
“Why?” he asked cautiously.
“It’s for a doll kit Lavender gave me,” Ron said.
“She gave it to you?”
“Uh huh.”
“But you said-” blurted Harry, before Ron clamped a hand over his mouth.
Before Draco could blink, Ron had cut a piece of hair from him and dashed out of the room, Harry right behind. When Draco exited the room, Hermione, who’d been sitting in the common room, took one look at him and laughed. “What’s so funny?” he demanded, hands on his hips.
“Your…hair,” she giggled. Draco looked at the mirror, eyes widening in mortification. Ron had cut away a good three inches from the right side of his head.
“Go to the Hospital wing right now,” he ordered, one hand clamped over his missing hair. “Bring back hair growth potion…or else.”
“Sorry, no can do,” she grinned. “Madam Pomfrey said that she didn’t want to see us for another week.”
“Please?” Draco begged, “I’ll do anything!”
“Anything?”
“Um…yes?” ‘What have I gotten myself into?’
“Oh good,” Hermione smirked. “In that case, I want you to check out this list of books for me at the library.”
“That’s it? You don’t want me to do your homework or be your personal slave or anything?”
“I do my own homework. If you did it, I would probably look bad. But as for you being my servant…that sounds nice.”
‘Me and my bloody mouth!’ “Come on Mione…you aren’t really going to make me do anything, are you?”
“You can start by dusting the rooms,” she said. “And then I want you to alphabetize all of the books on the shelves. And after that…”
Twenty minutes later, Hermione left the room, Draco staring after her, with a list over twenty feet long spread out on the floor around him.
Meanwhile, in Harry’s room, a Draco doll and Hermione doll had been successfully made. “They look just like them,” smiled Ron, looking at his handiwork. As soon as the children had touched the hair to the dolls, they’d transformed to very good look a likes of the two, down to the Slytherin and Gryffindor badges on their robes.
Ron began to walk the Hermione doll across the floor, her legs going incredibly fast. In the hallway to the Hospital wing, Hermione suddenly sped up, her legs out of control. Students openly stared as she sprinted down the hall, her legs just blurs.
Ginny, seeing her friend’s trouble, ran to catch up. “What’s going on?” she asked, jogging rather fast to keep up with Hermione’s walk.
“I don’t know! But I can’t stop!”
Ginny glanced ahead and saw the end of the corridor drawing near, but Hermione kept going straight. “Turn!” she cried. “You’re going to crash!”
“I can’t!”
At that second, Ron dropped the doll and Hermione fell to the floor with a thud. “Are you all right?” Ginny queried, bending down and helping Hermione to her feet.
“I…I think so.”
“Oops,” Ron grinned. “I dropped her. We’d better make her walk again!”
Hermione, standing still, suddenly took off at the inhuman speed again, this time thankfully in the direction of the hospital wing. “Out of my way!” she called as she tore through students, bowling over several. Literally flying up the steps, she barged into the Hospital wing. “I need hair growth potion!” she said, plowing into a wall, her legs still walking though she wasn’t moving.
Mystified, Pomfrey handed it to her and then turned the girl around so that she was walking back out the door.
“Let’s jump on your bed!” suggested Ron, tossing the Hermione doll onto Harry’s desk. In the hall, Hermione screamed as she flew threw the air and landed ungracefully on top of one of the suits of armor. Ron and Harry both began to jump on the mattress, the Draco doll still clutched in Harry’s hand.
Draco, who’d just stared to clean out beneath the couches was suddenly lurched to his feet and flew up two feet in the air before dropping down to the ground with a thud. Before he could even stand up, he was airborne again, this time going higher before falling.
“What’” -bounce-
“The” -bounce-
“Bloody” -bounce-
“Hell” -bounce-
“Is” -bounce-
“Going” -bounce-
“On?” -bounce-
Draco grabbed onto the couch as he fell this time, but when he felt his body lifting up, the couch came too, much to his amazement, before they both fell back to the floor.
In his room, Harry tossed the Draco doll up to catch it, when its head got stuck in the ceiling. “Uh oh,” remarked Ron. “Now we have to get him out.”
Draco screamed as he flew over twenty feet in the air before going through the ceiling, his head sticking in the room above. Blinking dazedly, little snitches flying around his head, he could tell where he’d come through.
Red plush chairs and couches littered the room, and gold banners hung from every available space on the wall. And clustered around his head were a bunch of Gryffindors, gaping at him. “Draco?” Ginny knelt down next to the head. “What’s up?”
“It appears the Gryffindor common room,” he remarked dryly.
“What are you doing all the way up here?”
“How should I know? I’m in my common room when I’m suddenly up here.” In Harry’s room, Harry was balancing precariously on top of Ron who was on top of the bed, trying to rescue the Draco doll.
“Got it!” he smiled, yanking down on Draco doll’s legs. The real Draco was suddenly pulled down from the Gryffindor common room, falling to the ground with a thud.
“Draco? Are you okay?” Ginny called down through the hole.
“What do you think?” he moaned, lying eagle spread on the ground. “I think my back’s broken.”
“Don’t move,” the redhead cautioned.
“Too late,” Draco muttered as he flew several feet in the air before falling back down again.
“I’ll get Hermione!” Ron said excitedly. “I want her to jump too!” Scooping up the doll, he climbed back on the bed next to Harry and started to jump again.
Hermione, who had just gotten off of the armor and onto the floor, leapt a foot in the air, before falling down. Another jump made her go up, but this time, Hermione managed to land on her feet. And that’s how she got down the hall, jumping several feet every other step.
Ron and Harry, growing bored of sitting on the bed, stopped and began to read a story to the dolls, the real Hermione and Draco being spared for a moment. When Hermione entered the room and saw Draco lying perfectly still, she raced over. “Draco!”
“I think he’s okay,” called Ginny. In surprise, Hermione glanced up. “He came through the ceiling,” the girl explained. “I don’t know how, but he somehow keeps flying up in the air…he stopped about a minute ago.”
Hermione nodded and flicked her wand at the ceiling, the wood mending itself so that no one could ever tell there had once been a hole. “Draco,” she repeated. “Can you hear me?”
Silver eyes cracked open. “Yes. What happened?”
“I don’t know. Can you stand? I’ll help you to the couch.” Between Hermione half carrying Draco and the boy leaning heavily on her, he managed to get to the couch. Conjuring up an icepack, she laid it on his back, already seeing the bruising. “I brought you back your hair potion,” she smiled. “Although I don’t think you need it. Your hair grew back.”
“It…did?”
“Yep. I wonder why…we’ll just keep this for emergencies though,” she said, putting the bottle on the shelf. The reason Draco’s hair had grown back, although not known to the teenagers, is when the doll’s were made, the Draco doll was made to look like his original self. And since the dolls look exactly like the person at that time, his hair was back.
“Look!” Ron squealed, pointing at the pile of clothes. “We can dress the dollies up!” Sorting through, Ron picked out two very skimpy pieces for Hermione to wear. “It’s a bathing suit!”
“I don’t think it is,” said Harry. “It’s missing part of the bottom part of the suit, see?”
“Oh well,” said Ron. “Maybe it’s broken. Let’s dress Hermione!”
Hermione, who was sorting through the books while Draco rested, suddenly shivered. Looking down, she screeched at her new clothing. A rather sheer black lace bra covered her front and a black thong was on the rest of her. Draco, hearing the scream, jumped up, his eyes lighting on Hermione.
Before the girl could do anything, a picture had been snapped, Draco grinning like a Cheshire cat. “DON’T LOOK AT ME!” she cried in alarm, grabbing a blanket sitting on back of the couch and wrapping it around herself.
“There’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Draco smiled, tucking the camera away before Hermione could try and destroy it.
“I think the dolly is cold,” Harry remarked. “It isSeptember.” So both children once again redressed Hermione in her robes, the witch surprised when she removed the blanket to see her robes back.
“What’s going on?” she asked softly, still keeping the blanket wrapped around her and settling down next to Draco.
“Dunno,” he shrugged, wincing at the movement. “Although some parts haven’t been so bad.” Hermione lightly smacked him, not wanting to hurt the Slytherin too badly after his fall from the ceiling.
“We should make them kiss,” Ron decided, after they’d finished reading the story. Taking the Draco doll from Harry, he pressed the doll’s faces together.
In the common room, Draco and Hermione were suddenly lip locked, eyes widening in horror, embarrassment, surprise, and several other reactions. As soon as Ron pulled the dolls apart, Hermione and Draco sprang apart from each other, the Gryffindor blushing madly and the Slytherin with a light tinge to his cheeks.
“W-why…did you just…kiss me?” Hermione whispered, her fingers lightly touching her lips.
“I didn’t. You kissed me.”
“Did not…weird stuff has been happening to us all day…do you think it’s a jinx?”
“You don’t even believe in that stuff.”
“I know…but this is so unreal. How is it happening?”
“Hermione! I’m hungry!” whined Ron, exiting with Harry behind him, the dolls riding in the redhead’s pocket. “Can we go get breakfast now?”
Hermione stole a glance at Draco who gave a slight nod. “Okay, come on you two.” Hermione and Draco were both pleasantly surprised when they all made it into the Great Hall, with no accidents or odd things happening.
“Is everything alright with you two?” asked Ginny as Hermione seated herself next to her long time friend.
“Not really sure,” Hermione answered, selecting an orange from the silver fruit bowl. “Some really bizarre things have been happening all day.”
“Like what?”
“Well…my super speed, and then both Draco and I bouncing…though Draco seems to have gotten it worse.”
“Anything else?”
“Uh…no, nothing at all.”
“You forgot something,” Draco grinned.
“If you say anything,” Hermione whispered threateningly, “I won’t hesitate to castrate you myself.”
“Actually, on second thought, nothing happened.” Ginny pouted, knowing that something had happened, but neither were talking.
“Hey? Where’d Ron and Harry go?” Hermione asked, looking at the bench.
“They were headed for the Head table. Probably just want to say good morning to Dumbledore or something. Don’t worry about them,” said Draco, taking a slice of Hermione’s orange.
At the Head table, Ron and Harry stopped next to Snape, though Harry was cowering behind Ron. “Excuse me,” said Ron, pulling on Snape’s robes. The Potions master looked down at the children, warning in his eyes. “We were wondering, Professor Scary Sir, if we could have a piece of your hair.”
“What did you call me?” Snape asked, voice dangerous.
“Professor Scary,” Ron grinned. “That is your name, isn’t it?”
A vein throbbed in Snape’s head and Ron decided on the best course of action. Reaching up, he snipped a piece of the black hair and then took off, Harry throwing one last fearful look at the man before following.
In a corner of the Great Hall, Ron administered the hair to the last blank figurine. Immediately, a miniature Snape was in his hands. “We should make him look happier,” Ron decided. “So then people won’t be as scared of him. And I think I know just the thing…”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Harry murmured, looking at Ron’s dress choice for Snape.
“Nonsense,” Ron grinned. “Let’s head back to the table so Hermione and Draco won’t worry.”
The two mischief makers (well, really only Ron, Harry’s just being dragged along) sat back down on the bench at the Gryffindor table, and Ron proceeded to make Snape look ‘happier.’ “We should make him dance too,” Ron beamed.
Startled gasps and loud cries broke through the general chatter of breakfast and everyone turned to look at the Head table. On top of it Snape, dressed in a pink frilly tutu with a lacy pink bow holding his hair back was dancing, a look of absolute revulsion on his face.
Draco stared, open-mouthed, feeling as sorry for his godfather as he ever had had in his life. Hermione, besides snapping a picture, was wondering what was causing this. Looking at her two charges, she gazed at them, but more importantly what was in Ron’s hand.
“RONALD WEASLEY! YOU’RE THE ONE BEH-” Hermione was silenced as Ron produced the Draco and Hermione dolls, and immediately pushed them together again.
Attention turned from Snape to the kissing teenagers, cameras flashing. “Ron’s doing it!” Hermione said into Draco’s mouth, nodding her head at the troublemaker. Draco reached behind him and grabbed the dolls from the child, both he and Hermione breaking apart. Hermione grabbed the Snape doll and quickly pulled the black robes over the tutu.
“Would you care to explain these?” Hermione asked, eyes glinting as she held the dolls up in the air for everyone to see.
Ron looked at her petrified, before opening his mouth,and pointing at the child next to him. “Harry did it!”
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