A Joke is not a Joke

A Joke is Not a Joke

Ch. 1

Fred came barreling into the seventh year dormitory. "Hey, George!" he cried. "I have an idea for a new joke we can play this year!"

George looked up eagerly, at first. Then he frowned slightly and bit his lip. "I don't know," he said slowly. "Mum said if we pull another joke she'll kill us." He was the more serious of the two, although that wasn't much of a stretch, since Fred was rarely serious.

Fred impatiently shook his head. "Don't worry. They'll never catch us. We'll do it so fast and so subtly that no one will know we did it."

"Well..." said George, beginning to weaken. "Okay, what is it?"

Fred leaned in eagerly. "I found this recipe for a potion in one of my joke books."

"What does it do?" asked George excitedly.

Fred's smile faded. "Actually, I don't know what it does." His expression brightened. "We'll be just as surprised as everyone else. That way, no one will be able to pin us as the culprits."

George grinned too. "Yeah, the joke's on us! Let's do it!"

The two boys excitedly hurried to an abandoned passage that had collapsed, but still was usable for part of it. They set up a cauldron and looked over the recipe. George frowned. "This is the strangest potion recipe I've ever seen! Lacewings, stewed nettles, rosemary. Okay, normal enough. Chocolate eclairs? Pumpkin juice? Blood? What's this all about?" He looked up at his brother. "Fred, I don't think this is a good idea. Why do they want all this stuff? And why, may I ask, would any normal recipe call for-" he ran his finger down the page- "page two hundred and nine from the Beginner's guide to Transfiguration? That's the one about transforming a pillow into a giant, flesh eating slug-the one they never use. What's that for?"

Fred looked troubled. "Look, George, I don't know. I do know we can get that page. I also know we can get everything on the list. Come on! Don't chicken out now! We're going to pull off the greatest prank Hogwarts has ever seen!"

George sighed as his brother scanned the recipe again. "I hope you're right," he said under his breath. They always did everything together, never questioning each other. Lately, though, George had noticed that Fred was pretty reckless-he didn't want to cause any problems with their potion. Still, it didn't look like he had a choice. Sighing again, he sat next to Fred to study the recipe.

Fred was rudely awakened over an hour before dawn on Christmas. Blinking sleepily, he stared up into the face of his brother. "Wha-George, it's not even dawn yet!"

"Exactly," said George, looking worried. "Didn't you read the recipe? The blood has to be added from everyone who worked on the potion one hour before dawn on Christmas." He shrugged. "I don't understand it, either. But unless we want the potion to blow up in our faces, we've got to go now. And if the potion blows up in our faces, we could get hurt."

Fred sat bolt upright. "I'm up!"

Dressing hurriedly, the two hurried down to the passage and crowded around the cauldron. Lifting a needle, the boys chanted together,

"At dawn on Christmas

We freely give

The bright red liquid

That lets us live."

They pricked their fingers and squeezed out blood into a vial. They then poured the blood into the potion. The liquid in the cauldron bubbled and sparkled. Suddenly, the trace of a horrid, evil-looking face floated across the surface of the cauldron.

George jumped and grabbed his brother's arm. "Fred!" he said worriedly.

Fred stared at George. "What's gotten into you?"

"You didn't see..."

"I didn't see anything. You're making things up. You're just paranoid. C'mon, it'll be at least a month before this thing's ready." Fred snapped his fingers. "It'll be ready by Valentine's Day. We'll try it then."

George let go of Fred, slowly. Fred was wrong. That was a real SOMETHING! He wasn't going to argue, though. Maybe he was hallucinating. Yeah, that's it. The blood had made him nervous. He was seeing things.