Follow the Butterflies

Additions to Disclaimer: Some lyrics in this chapter were borrowed from the song "Pure Imagination" from the film Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. The lyrics and music are by Leslie Bricusse and Anthony Newley. The movie was based on the book by Roald Dahl, directed by Mel Stuart, and the song was sung by Gene Wilder.

Chapter 8: Candy in a Seed

The first half is by heartdamoose, the second half is by kazooband

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Ron didn't know what in the world had possessed him to do it, but he knocked on Fred and George's door.

"George! It's Ronny Boy! Have you come to see us?" asked Fred.

It was then that Ron regretted coming anywhere near their room.

"No Fred, I'm not," Ron said sarcastically.

"Well come in!" said George as he tugged him inside. "Welcome to headquarters."

Ron looked around. "Headquarters for what?" he croaked. The whole place was covered in...strange objects.

"For our joke shop of course!" exclaimed Fred as he opened his arms in welcome.

Ron felt like he had just entered Willie Wonka's Chocolate Factory.

"Does Mum know about this?" Ron asked in shock.

George put his arm over Ron's shoulders. "Between you and me, Ronald, Mum doesn't know about anything."

"And let's keep it that way," said Fred, grinning.

"So, what do you want?" asked George clasping his hands together.

Ron looked at the two of them uneasily. "Well, I need your help."

Fred beamed. "Ah. Chick problems. Well you should be lucky you came to us first, little brother. You see, I--."

"I'm not having chick problems!" Ron retorted. "It's something else."

George stared. "Well okay then. Talk to us."

Fred took out a notepad and pen.

Ron sighed. "Well let's just say I have an...erm...friend, and he has a problem with his patronus."

"Ah. Patronus problems," said Fred scribbling down notes.

George stared at Ron oddly. "Your friend doesn't happen to be you does he?" he asked grinning.

Fred tapped his pencil on his chin. "Hmm. Insecurities in admitting oneself in an embarrassing topic..." He scribbled it down on his paper.

"How did you know?" demanded Ron.

"Know? Ron dear, it's bloody obvious," said George laughing.

"You can't summon a patronus in the DA," pointed out Fred.

"You've been pretty odd lately."

"You're a horrible actor."

"You ate that--."

"All right, all right," said Ron cutting them off. "But the thing is, I can summon a patronus just fine, it's what it is that bothers me."

Fred took more notes.

"Ah. Patronus insecurities."

More notes.

"What should I do?"

Once again, more notes.

Ron glared at Fred. "I mean I..."

More notes.

"...Guess it's all right..."

Notes! Notes! Notes!

"...But it's wimpy and..."

...Notes.

"...Wouldn't even be able to protect itself, much less me, from dementors..."

Notes and more notes...

Ron snatched the notepad away from Fred. "Would you stop that?! Jeeze! What have you been writing in here anyway?" Ron opened the notepad and stared at Fred's work. "Fred, these aren't even bloody notes! This is just a lame drawing of you gardening!"

Fred grinned. "Aye, but it's not just any garden...it's a candy garden!"

Ron looked at Fred as if his brain had been removed, chopped into little bits, and eaten by carnivorous snails. "You didn't take any notes you stupid Willie Wonka!"

"...Come with me, and you'll be, in a world of pure imagination, take a look, and you'll see, into your imagination..."

Ron hit his head. "Oh shut up."

George took the notepad from Ron and looked at the picture. "You know Fred, this is actually a pretty good idea! Candy that grows in the front yard? Who would have thought?"

"I knew you would like it George!" said Fred, quite pleased with himself.

It seemed like Ron's existence was forgotten.

"And it will be a hit with the kids!"

"Oh jeeze you're right!" said Fred. "We should price it high. Kids will buy anything these days..."

"...And then there's the thought of packaging..."

"...Twenty seeds a box seems about right..." said Fred

"...And each seed will be a different flavor..."

"And of course there will always be that one that tastes like ear wax..."

"We'll call the whole thing Candy in a Seed," finished George.

"Excellent," they both said grinning.

"Hello?" said Ron announcing his presence again.

"What are you doing here?" asked Fred staring at him oddly.

"Are you guys gonna help me with my patronus or what?"

George waved him off. "I dunno Ron, just do a whole bunch of patronuses and maybe it will change or something."

Ron considered it. It might just work. He left the room without either of his brothers noticing.

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Ron shuddered and put away another folder. The event might have been six hours previous, but McGonagall's lecture was still ringing in his ears, far worse than anything Snape could ever say. It was as though she'd spent the intervening time between when Ron was assigned detention and when he had to serve it thinking up a suitable speech to mark the occasion.

Never in all my days have I been a witness to such outrageous behavior!

She must not have been paying much attention to Fred and George over the past seven years, then.

You have besmirched the title of prefect!

It seemed to Ron that he'd been doing a lot of that lately. Laura McGrievy, though, seemed to have a perfect record, even though it was massively out of order. Maybe she'd make a good prefect. She had plenty of time to spare herself, though; she was only a second year.

As Ron slid the folder back into place he sighed and looked up at the cabinets he had left to organize. He was afraid to look back at those he had already finished, knowing that their numbers would pale in comparison to the work he had left to do. At this rate he would be here all night and most of tomorrow.

When McGonagall told him he'd be organizing the student records, he thought he'd gotten off easy. After all, there couldn't be more than five hundred students in the school. Even though McGonagall told him he couldn't use magic, he'd figured that he would be done with time to finish his charms essay. What he hadn't counted on was the thousand years' worth of students who had already graduated.

He would come upon pockets of them at intervals and their old and yellowing parchment would crumble and wither at his touch as he carefully transported them back to their appropriate cabinets. He'd received a shock on the first of these trips when he discovered that the old cabinets were even more disorganized than the cabinets devoted to current students.

One such file had practically disintegrated at McGonagall's feet. She'd repaired it calmly but Ron spent the next hour and a half quailing under her stern gaze. Regrettably, it was during this time that Ron came upon Draco Malfoy's file, and all hopes of altering, misfiling, or destroying it were thwarted.

A little after midnight, McGonagall announced that she was leaving, but Ron was to continue working until he was finished or she came back and dismissed him. Ron's expression must have been a little too hopeful, for her eyebrows crinkled up in suspicion and she locked the cabinets containing the records of current students before she left.

Ron groaned and twisted, inspiring a series of pops all along his spine, before he returned to his dull work. Now that McGonagall was gone, there was no one to make sure that he wasn't using magic. He gave some thought to devising a magical way to finish his task faster, but he couldn't think of any spell intended for organizing papers, and he didn't want to experiment too much and risk causing even more work for himself. However, with no one around, now was the perfect time to see if Fred and George's advice was worth anything. Ron pulled out his wand, imagined himself asleep in bed, and performed the spell. A silver butterfly appeared and Ron glared at it accusingly as he sifted through the file cabinets until it finally gave up and flew away.

For hours he conjured one patronus after another until the air was filled with butterflies of various sizes, but no bears, tigers or deer were to be found. At this point, Ron would have settled for anything besides a butterfly, even a poodle. Well, maybe not a poodle. Angrily, he stuffed his wand back in his pocket, shoved the last cabinet closed, and left, sucking on a paper cut.