Well, what can I say! This is my attempt at a comedy. It's a spoof, not meant to be taken seriously. It should be a good few chapters long, and I can promise you it will be finished. It's just that I live in a place during the week with no computer and am too chicken to go to the Internet café right beside me (I don't really know how they work, please enlighten me!) Anyway, updates will be every week (I come home at weekends). Never fear if I miss one, cause I'll have it by the next weekend. I think that's about it.
If you are easily offended, do not read if you:
(Here, I tried to make a list… But really, If you're easily offended, do not read. Full stop. Oh, and If you live in or have strong feelings for Birmingham and the London Underground)
Ha! So now I've warned you, It's not my fault it I alienate half of you!
Disclaimer: I pains me to say this, but I have to get it off my chest before I explode! I don't own Harry Potter… Oh, The shame!
Reviews, this time, WILL be taken into account when writing the next chapters, so PLEASE do… Review, I mean.
Grimmauld place was a hive of activity again this summer. Still the headquarters for the order of the Phoenix, it was consistently noisy and crowded (and smelly, if the truth be told).
The only difference was the subtle change in atmosphere. The occupants of the house felt mildly uncomfortable having taken charge of a dead man's house. The discomfort was only temporary, however. The desperation wasn't.
The Weasely family seemed to have taken up the task of being the hosts. Molly cooked the meals, Arthur hosted meetings, and the children, with no help from Kreacher (whose extended period of maniacal laughter upon hearing of Sirius' untimely demise had finally pushed him off the deep end), cleaned up afterwards.
'That is, after all', grumbled Ron one evening to Ginny and Luna as they stared at the catastrophe that was the aftermath of the entire order's dinner, 'the entire point of actually having children, isn't it?'
They began to tidy with Ron issuing the odd "Fuckers", when he remembered how pissed off he was.
Ginny took up the task of washing the crockery, while Luna and Ron displayed the early symptoms of both love and psychosis. Well, maybe not 'early' in Luna's case. They gathered up the dishes and brought them to Ginny, who alternately washed them, and let out vehement exclamations.
Cabin fever had well and truly set in after three weeks in the house. Those who weren't already mad (ahem*Luna*ahem) would soon be, and to be honest, Kreacher was thinking more rationally than the Weaselys at this stage.
And so the scene stood as Hermione froze in the doorway, watching the interaction between her three friends. She cleared her throat pointedly when her arrival went unnoticed. Ron and Luna sprang apart, and Ginny quickly secreted a bottle of amber liquid behind her back. Hermione's expression turned to one of cautiousness as she spoke.
'Erm…hi?'
The three addled occupants of the house ran towards her, and she backed away despite herself.
'Right', she said in a businesslike tone. 'Exactly how long has it been since you've seen anyone?' Ginny answered. 'Three weeks!' then a babble of talk came from the other two. Hermione ignored it on Ginny's advice.
'Herms', she pleaded, taking Hermione's hand. 'Mum and Dad keep us out of the way all the time! You've got to help us!'
This, my friends, is how it all started.
Ginny's desperate cries for help resounded in Hermione's head that night. She thought of Harry, and hoped he was faring better, mentally, than his mates were. With this thought she formulated a plan. She said, aloud: 'I call it Operation… operation… Ah feck it.' Then she realised she'd been talking out loud, and then she shut up.
The next morning, Hermione went down to breakfast to discover quite a lot of people already in the kitchen, eating. Dumbledore was even there. Hermione was perplexed, and so she went to speak to Mrs. Weasely.
'Mrs. Weasely', she sat down beside her. 'Erm… if you don't mind me asking…' Hermione bit the bullet (so to speak… she didn't actually bite a bullet, cause that'd be really sore). 'Mrs. Weasely, why haven't you allowed Ron, Ginny and Luna to see anyone? And, come to think of it, why is Luna actually here?'
Mrs. Weasely turned to face her, and Hermione saw that she had bags under her eyes. 'What ever do you mean, dear?' (Yes, that's definitely firewhiskey I can smell… Like mother like daughter I suppose, thought Hermione.)
Anyway, what Hermione could deduce from the conversation was that Mrs. Weasely had told them to keep out of the way. She'd just been drun- I mean, she'd just forgotten.
Hermione, with a last cautious look at Mrs. Weasely, made her way to talk to Dumbledore. He was surveying the zoo that was the kitchen sadly, as if to say: Yes, these are the soldiers of the noble side of the light… Bugger.
He was draining his teacup when Hermione tapped him on the shoulder hesitantly. 'Professor, can I talk to you for a second?' He smiled widely and patted the seat next to him. 'Fire ahead', he said, as Hermione sat down warily, aware that everywhere she turned there was madness.
'Professor, have you been in touch with Harry at all?' Hermione asked after a second. Dumbledore fiddled with his beard absentmindedly, which distracted Hermione and disturbed her in a way she couldn't fathom. 'As a matter of fact, yes', he replied with a smile and a twinkle-of-the-eye™.
'I wrote to him a few days ago, and I received his reply only this very morning'.
'Erm…' Hermione struggled to fill the widening silence that followed Dumbledore's reply. 'And…?', she ventured timidly.
'And', replied the eccentric Headmaster, 'I believe his words were: "I'm feeling fantastic, thank you, yours sincerely, Harry"'. Dumbledore smiled. 'Good to know he's getting over everything, isn't it', he exclaimed cheerfully. 'I was afraid the prophecy might upset him, but he seems to be fine, doesn't he!'
'Erm… Prophecy?'
'Yes, I know', replied Dumbledore, oblivious to Hermione's ignorance. 'I thought knowing that he would either have to kill Voldemort of be killed by him might give him a bit of a complex! Imagine! Glad to be wrong though, for once, miss Granger, eh?' And with that he strolled off, leaving a catatonic Hermione in his wake.
When Hermione came to her senses, it was to an empty kitchen. And it was such a mess that, she thought, it was no wonder Ginny had taken to the bottle and Ron and Luna to escapism through sex and hallucinogenic drugs. But back to her plan. She'd need her three friends and she'd need Tonks. And she'd need them soon.
So when Tonks popped in to see how they were getting on, by a lucky coincidence, that very afternoon, Hermione thanked her lucky stars. Then she realised she was talking out loud and then she shut up.
'Oooo…..Kaaaay', said Tonks at the sight of the teenagers.
They were frolicking about in the lounge. Well, Ron and Luna were. Hermione was being poured a large glass of something smelling suspiciously like paraffin by a serenely smiling Ginny. 'You lot have got to get out of the house'.
Hermione smiled widely at this. 'My thoughts exactly'. She patted the seat next to her and Tonks plopped down next to her and offered her some sort of homemade cigarette. Hermione took it for later, thinking she'd share it with Harry. (Oh, come on, she knew what it was…).
'Thanks Tonks', she said, smiling sweetly. 'Do you think you'd be able to take us to see Harry?' she asked nonchalantly. 'Only, we haven't seen him in ages', she said sadly as she offered Tonks a light. 'Mmmm' said Tonks, closing her eyes, and lying back on the couch. 'Get your stuff and I'll take you in a sec'.
Hermione stood up triumphantly with her hands on her hips. She went unnoticed. She whistled irritably, and when Luna and Ron appeared from behind the sofa, she told them to be ready to leave in ten minutes.
'We're going to see Harry', she replied to their happily blank faces.
'Oooooh', came Luna's reply. Then she skipped from the room, Ron following her as if she were the smell of roast beef. Hermione roused Ginny from her precomatose alcohol induced sleep and dragged her to the shower. She chucked her in unceremoniously and turned the shower on. Cold.
She didn't undress her, as Ginny was the type of girl that might have taken that in the wrong way. Ginny's screams of rage gradually became more coherent, indicating that she'd had enough. Hermione dragged her out of the shower and performed a drying spell. She knew she wouldn't be expelled for that since she knew how to do spells on the sly, without any need for the ministry to find out.
A queer sight they must have looked leaving the house. After all, appearing out of thin air into a busy housing estate in broad daylight is one thing. On top of that, Ron and Luna skipped ahead to the tube station.
Hermione and Tonks supported Ginny and it was up to Hermione to direct the two of them, stoned and drunk to the station, where they all clambered onto the disgusting train, making sure to check their seats for used needles and condoms before sitting down. They ignored the vomit, knowing full well that if you ruled out seats with vomit, you be standing for a long time.
The journey to surrey was an uncomfortable one, with Ron and Luna adding to the selection of bodily fluids on the tube. Ginny passed out Hermione's shoulder, and drooled. A lot. Tonks was, well, stoned, and Hermione wished she was.
But as she negotiated the five of them onto the connecting train to surrey, she knew that it was lucky she wasn't, it wouldn't do to end up somewhere undesirable like… Birmingham.