Harry Potter and the Sixth Year

Ten days before Halloween, several owls swooped down on the Gryffindor table while they were having their breakfast, and sat importantly in front of Ron, Hermione, Harry and Ginny. They each unwrapped their parchments to see written in bold type:

Grand Opening!

Weasleys’ Wizarding Wheezes!

Proprietors: Fred and George Weasley

You are invited to 20 The Ginnell at 7:00pm on October 31st for our opening celebration.

R.S.V.P.

They sat digesting the message and their breakfast until Ron said: “Well? Do we go?”

“I’m for it if McGonagall agrees,” said Harry.

“Me too,” said Hermione.

“And me,” said Ginny.

“Okay,” said Ron, “then who asks her?”

All eyes swivelled towards Hermione.

“All right,” she said in a resigned tone. “I’ll ask her after our lesson this morning.”

“Good on you,” said Ron enthusiastically. “McGonagall won’t refuse you!”

“But you’ll all going to ask her individually. I’ll go first, but I’m not going to ask for everyone.”

“Okay then.”

“You’ll need to be up to date with your homework,” warned Hermione.

Ron rolled up his eyes to the sky. “Look, when have I been behind this term?”

“Not yet,” admitted Hermione. “But what are the chances of you keeping that up?”

“I’ve been a reformed character all year,” said Ron, with dignity.

“Hmm,” said Hermione. “We’ll see.”

With a clatter, Ron got to his feet and marched out of the Hall.

“Tact, Hermione,” said Harry.

And Hermione was looking more than a little embarrassed. Without a word, she put her own knife and fork carefully together on her plate, and also stood up and walked out.

Harry caught Ginny’s eye and grinned.

After the Transfiguration lesson, which was just before lunch, Hermione headed up the little deputation to Professor McGonagall.

“Excuse me, Professor,” she started.

“Yes, Miss Granger?” surveying Hermione stiffly through her glasses.

Hermione held up the parchment. “It’s the Weasley twins – Fred and George. They’ve invited us to the opening of their new shop.”

Professor McGonagall took the parchment and examined it. “So I see,” she said, after a few moments.

“And we were wondering if we’d be allowed to go.”

The Professor looked at the two boys behind Hermione. “Just the three of you?”

“And Ginny,” said Ron.

“It would mean missing the Feast.”

“We know that, Professor. It’s not our last though, and we would really like to go.”

Professor McGonagall examined the card again. “Weasleys’ Wizarding Wonders. I do remember their capacity to create havoc – although sometimes in a good cause.” Harry wondered whether she was referring to their last glorious weeks, when they’d done all they could to make life a misery for Dolores Umbridge. She looked up at them. “Well, an event like this … how can I refuse you?”

Hermione smiled. “Thank you, Professor.”

She looked past her to Ron and Harry. “Mind, though, that all your homework is done.”

“Have we missed any deadlines this term?” asked Harry.

“Well, no.”

“Did we Transfigure your desk into a pig this lesson?” asked Ron.

McGonagall actually smiled. “One of my party tricks. And you succeeded first time. All right, your point is taken. It’s just that – well, you two have been something of a disappointment in the past, and you do need good grades, don’t you?”

Ron nodded. “That’s why we’re working this year. And we promise to keep working.”

Harry, remembering the efforts McGonagall had made with his OWLs, chipped in: “Honest, Professor.”

“Very well then. Tell Ginny Weasley to come to see me herself. You’ll be wanting to use my fireplace, I suppose?”

“Please, Professor.”

“In which case, you mustn’t be too late back. Eleven o’clock?”

They all nodded. “Thank you, Professor,” Harry added.

“Very well. Away with you now.”

The next problem was what to wear. Not school robes. Not dress robes either.

“Smart casual,” pronounced Hermione, as they sat in front of the fire.

Ron wrinkled up his nose. “What?”

“Smart casual,” repeated Hermione.

“Yeah, I heard that. What’s it supposed to mean?”

“Everyday clothes, but as smart as you can. You could wear one of your mother’s sweaters.”

“No way!”

“What then?”

“Dean has got that leather jacket …”

“Do you really think it’ll fit me?”

“Well, no, not really.”

“So?”

Ron turned to Harry. “What about you?”

“Hogsmead. Next weekend. We could buy something then.” Then Harry realised how tactless a remark that was. Ron sat staring into the fire, his face expressionless. “Look …” Harry began.

“No!”

Harry looked over at Hermione, but she too was staring into the fire as if she found the flames endlessly fascinating. Not for the first time, Harry cursed Ron’s stubborn pride. Yet he knew how he might feel, relying on the charity of friends. When he’d worn Dudley’s cast-offs, it had been different. He hadn’t any choice then. Now with the Galleons in not one but two vaults in Gringott’s, a few clothes were neither here nor there.

The evening before they were due to go, Harry started rummaging through his trunk, pulling out the sweaters Mrs Weasley had knitted for him and had sent Christmas after Christmas. He knew Ron was in the dormitory, getting ready for bed.

At least two of the sweaters were too small for him now, which rather limited his choice. Carefully he laid them out on the bed, knowing that Ron would see. He laid out two pairs of jeans, and stood back, as if contemplating which to wear.

Eventually, he heard Ron from behind him: “The one with the lion on isn’t bad.”

Harry turned, and as innocently as he could, said, “Do you think so?”

“Yeah.”

There was another pause, while they stood and looked at them. Then Ron gave a shamefaced grin. “Yeah, I’ll pick one of Mum’s too. They’re not all that bad.”

“Get the elves to press the jeans.”

Ron pulled a face of mock horror. “Don’t let Hermione hear you say that.”

Harry shrugged. “I don’t think anything any of us can do at the moment is going to liberate many elves.”

“S’pose not.”

“Jumpers and jeans it is, then?”

“Yeah.” Ron turned at looked at Harry, and said awkwardly, “Look, I know you’d have liked to have bought some clothes, and I know you can afford to, it’s just, well, you know …”

“Yeah, I know. But I’d rather us look twits together than me being dressed up and you not.”

“You don’t have to, you know.”

“I know I don’t have to. But that’s the way I’d prefer it.”

“Thanks, Harry.”

And with their clothes pressed, they didn’t look too bad. Ron stood in front of the mirror for what seemed like ages, combing his hair in all sorts of different ways. Eventually Harry walked up and told him: “Look, if we’re going by the Floo network, it’ll get messed up anyway.”

Ron paused. “Suppose so.” He turned and looked at Harry. “You don’t have to bother.”

“With it sticking up all the time? I look a mess even when I try.”

“Well, not exactly a mess.”

“What then?”

Ron gazed at him uncertainly. “I dunno really. But it quite suits you.”

Harry wasn’t quite sure what that meant, but he gave Ron a shove, and said “Come on!”

As they came down the stairs they saw Hermione and Ginny waiting for them. The two of them stopped in unison, taken completely by surprise.

Hermione was wearing a skirt and blouse, but not quite in her usual business like manner – it seemed somehow different. And Ginny – Ginny was wearing low cut jeans and a top, which fitted rather well. Rather – closely.

And their hair. Hermione didn’t seem to have put anything on hers, but it had somehow been … fluffed out. Ginny, on the other hand, had hers swept up.

“Ready then, are we?” asked Hermione in a rather bored sounding voice.

“Honestly,” said Ginny, “the time it takes for you boys to get ready. And, after all that …” She looked at their sweaters with some disdain.

Harry led the way down the stairs. He thought Ron was still too shell shocked. “Shall we go?”

The girls turned without a word, and the four of them made their way down the corridors in silence. Until a muffled giggle from Ginny broke the tension.

Professor McGonagall was waiting for them, and inspected them as they came in. Her eyebrows went up a little at the sight of the two girls, but she looked a little more re-assured when she saw Ron and Harry.

“Now,” she said, “remember what I said. Back no later than eleven. I shall be less than pleased if I have to come and get you. Understood?”

They all nodded their agreement.

“Right then. Off you go. And have a good time.”

They all gave her a smile. It was not quite the comment they expected form her. One by one they stepped into the fireplace, took a pinch of Floo powder, and emerged into Weasley’s Wizarding Wonders.

The room was already quite full, with an overflow outside into the street. They pushed their way through the crowd until they saw Fred and George.

“Hi!” shouted Harry.

“Hey! Nice jumper!” cried Fred – or was it George?

“Yours too, Ron,” said George – or was it Fred?

“Thanks,” muttered Ron.

“And – Hermione …!” Whichever twin it was put a long, slow stress on her name.

“What an outfit!

“And Ginny!”

“Better not let Mum see you.”

“So,” said Hermione coolly, “things going well?”

“Very well.”

“Lots of orders.”

“Daily Prophet’s here.”

“And the opposition.”

“And Mum and Dad.”

“Fine,” said Hermione. “In which case, we’ll go and pay our respects.”

“Before you go …”

“A glass of wine each.”

Fred – or George – snapped his fingers, and a tray appeared. They each took a glass. Harry sipped his – he knew almost nothing about wine. He saw the slight grimace, quickly hidden, on Ginny’s face.

“Mum and Dad are over there …”

“… if you want to see them.”

“Thanks for the wine,” said Hermione. Judging from her face, it was obviously quite good. Harry remembered she used to take holidays in France.

They pushed through the crowd until they found the Weasleys senior.

“Harry,” Mrs Weasley cried. “And you’re wearing one of my jumpers!”

“We couldn’t find anything nicer to come in,” said Harry, almost truthfully. He felt slightly guilty when he saw the expression of delight on her face.

Then Mr and Mrs Weasley caught sight of their daughter. Mr Weasley merely smiled, but the expression on Mrs Weasley’s face faltered slightly as she took in the tight jeans and top, coupled with the glass of wine Ginny was so nonchalantly holding.

“Fred and George really seem to be doing well,” Harry said, to divert their attention.

“Yes, they do,” said Mr Weasley proudly.

“Pity about them leaving Hogwarts like that,” said Mrs Weasley. “And with no exams!”

“They don’t need exams,” said Hermione. They all looked at her as if she’d grown two heads, coming out with a remark like that. “Well, they don’t, do they? And they didn’t miss much at the end of last year.”

“Even so, dear,” said Mrs Weasley, taken aback by support for the twins from such an unlikely source.

“I think they’ll do very well,” said Hermione firmly.

“Well, yes.”

Hermione turned to the others. “Let’s check out the party, shall we?”

Ron almost goggled at this. Hermione? Checking out parties? Harry was amused to see Ron running his fingers through his hair ruffling it up. After all that time in front of the mirror.

But it was a good party. No loud music, perhaps, and no flashing lights, but there were a lot of celebrities from the wizarding world. Harry and Hermione, with their Muggle upbringing, didn’t recognise many of them, but Ron kept grabbing their elbow, and saying: “Oh, look, there’s so-and-so.” Harry was actually quite grateful for this, because for once he was just another teenager in the crowd, and no one was paying him any attention. He was also intrigued to see someone he was sure was a Muggle pop star – perhaps he was actually a wizard who had happened to make it big in the Muggle world.

After half an hour or so the twins pushed everyone out onto the street, for some impromptu demonstrations.

“Ladies and Gentlemen. Just a few of the tricks you can obtain at Weasleys’ Wizarding Wheezes.”

“A volunteer, please.”

“You, sir.”

And someone was plucked out of the crowd.

“Just try this biscuit will you?”

Harry grinned, knowing what was coming. And sure enough, the unwitting ‘volunteer’ suddenly sprouted feathers.

“Canary Creams.”

“Don’t worry, sir, you’ll be back to normal in a minute or so.”

“As normal as you can be.”

And so it went on. Harry himself was plucked from the crowd.

“Harry Potter,” cried Fred – or George.

“The Boy Who Lived,” cried George – or Fred.

“To tell the tale.”

“He who fought off the Death Eaters.”

Normally Harry would have hated all of this, but coming from Fred and George, somehow it seemed harmless fun.

“But can he beat the Weasley Wizards?” they went on.

“Just try this cool mint humbug, Harry.”

Harry took it, looked at it carefully, held it up for the crowd to see, then popped it into his mouth, wondering what was going to happen. It was indeed very minty, and he opened his mouth to gasp for air – to find himself shooting out a jet of flame as he breathed out.

“Weasleys’ Dragon’s Breath!”

“For your fire eating friends!”

“Don’t worry, Harry. There’s a fire extinguisher somewhere.”

Thankfully the flames were beginning to diminish with each breath. Harry slipped back into the crowd, as Hermione was pulled out to demonstrate the Elephant cough drop.

“Don’t worry, my dear.”

“Your ears will soon be back to normal.”

“Don’t get in a flap.”

And when they had finished:

“You can buy any of these Wheezes individually.”

“Or in boxed sets.”

“Jumbo size even.”

“Ideal presents.”

“Even for mothers in law.”

“Just drop in to …”

“WEASLEYS’ WIZARDING WHEEZES!” they cried in unison.

Harry was certainly impressed - not only by the shop, but also by how Fred and George were promoting themselves. He knew his ‘investment’ in the shop had been a gift, and he wouldn’t allow the twins to repay him unless they became millionaires – but with this publicity and their undoubted business flair that couldn’t be far away.

But all too soon Hermione was tugging at his sleeve. “It’s half past ten! We’re going to have to get back to Gryffindor.”

If it hadn’t been for the thought of McGonagall sitting waiting for them – and he remembered her threat of coming to get them if they were late, and knowing her, that wouldn’t be an idle threat – he would have stayed to the end and hang the consequences. But he and Hermione and Ron and Ginny fought their way through the crowds to say thanks and goodbye to Fred and George. It was difficult to catch their attention, however, since there was such a scrummage around them. They were just able to wave and shout ‘Goodbye’ and ‘Thanks!’ before Hermione whisked them off back into the shop. Lee Jordan and several assistants were behind the counter, and there was a long queue of people ready to buy boxes and boxes of Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes.

Just as they were about to join the queue for the fireplace, someone tapped Harry on the shoulder. He turned and saw Mr Weasley.

“Thanks for all this,” he said quietly.

Deeply embarrassed, Harry shrugged. “No problem.”

“All the same.”

Harry waved a hand round at the shop, the queues of people. “It’s been worth it, hasn’t it?”

“Indeed. So thanks again.” And Mr Weasley reached down and shook Harry’s hand.

After all the Weasleys had done for him, Harry thought that his winnings had been put to good use. “It’s been worth it. But we’ve got to go now, or else McGonagall will be on the warpath.”

“Ok. Bye all,” said Mr Weasley.

“Goodbye,” the others chorused.

“What was all that about?” asked Ron curiously, as they made their way to the fireplace.

“Oh, nothing really.” But he knew Ron wasn’t convinced by that answer.

Fortunately, they had reached the front of the queue, and scrambled into the fireplace, to re-emerge back into Professor McGonagall’s study just as the clock was striking eleven. They were all a bit breathless, and Ginny looked distinctly pink and more than a little dishevelled. It couldn’t have been the wine though – Harry had seen her put the glass down after a few sips. She was, however, carrying a large box wrapped in brown paper. Harry shuddered to think of the devastation that would be unleashed on Gryffindor common room over the next week.

“Did you all have a good time?” McGonagall enquired, after looking them over carefully.

“Yes, thank you, Professor!”

“Thanks for letting us go!”

“How was the Feast?”

“The Feast ended half an hour ago, and everyone should be back in the common room or their dormitories now.” Then she smiled. “How were Fred and George?”

“Larger than life,” Harry told her.

“Not the most scholastic of students, but I imagine they will certainly go a long way.”

Harry grinned. That was one way of putting it.

Back in the common room, everyone was too tired after the Feast to ask them much about where they had been. Harry noticed Ginny disappearing off upstairs clutching her box. He made a mental note to be very careful around Ginny for the next few days, and not to take any ‘presents’ from her.

Hermione yawned. “Wonderful! But I’m tired out after all that. See you in the morning,” and she too disappeared upstairs.

Ron and Harry looked at each other, feeling slightly anticlimactic.

“Well,” said Ron, “I suppose we’d better go up too.”

Harry nodded, and followed him.