Harry Potter and the Gem of Grogonous

“I have always believed that hair is a very sure index of character.”
                -- Catherine Tynan

“Oh, come on Mom. If hockey players can have mullets, why can’t I dye my hair?”

“When you start making as much money as a professional hockey player, you can shave your head, glue the hair onto your chest, and start dancing around stark naked, for all I care.”

                                              -- From the book ‘Perils of Adolescents’

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Chapter 3

No Longer Red-Heads

Harry was quickly reminded of how much he despised travelling by Floo powder. Spinning faster and faster; a dazzle of fireplaces rushing past him at break-neck speed; the cereal he had for lunch sloshing around his stomach, threatening to make a very much unwanted reappearance. Finally, Harry felt himself slowing down and falling forward into the Weasleys’ kitchen. He drunkenly got to his feet, still feeling as if the room was spinning around him.

The kitchen was, as always, cluttered yet quite inviting. Two of the local chickens had made their way into the room, clucking and pecking near the wooden dinning table which was smack dab in the middle of the room and surrounded by a variety of chairs and stools. For some reason, a book titled ‘Fire Starting for Pyromaniacs’ lay soaking in the sink next to a pile of drying dishes. Several Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans were scattered next to Harry’s school luggage, which had made it through the Floo system just as Lee had predicted.

Hoping that taking a seat would help stop the room from spinning so much, Harry stumbled over to a rickety stool by the window. He glanced outside, skimming over the Weasleys’ sad little garden and the long table which had most likely been set up for tonight’s dinner.

A loud bang suddenly echoed from upstairs followed by a terrible amount of yelling and screaming. Harry got out of his seat, about to go and find the cause of all the commotion, but was stopped by Ron. The red-head flew out of the fireplace and landed with a Grade-A face plant right in front of Harry’s feet and into a pile of chicken poop.

“Never quite got the hang of that,” Ron grunted as Harry helped him to his feet. “It’s better then Apparating onto a roof, mind you, but still--”

Ron was abruptly cut off by the crashing noises coming from the second landing. He bit his lip and wiped the chicken souvenirs off his forehead, glancing towards the staircase. The expression on his face read like a billboard: Right now the last thing he ever wanted to do was go to the second floor landing.

“What’s going on up there?” Harry asked, looking up at the staircase as well.

“The weekly Weasley family Apocalypse,” Ron mumbled. “Don’t worry. It should start to burn out just about now.”

Proving that Ron was terribly wrong, a monstrous explosion sounded, shaking the cramped house to its very foundation.

“Er . . . maybe we should head outside,” Ron suggested. He began to guide Harry towards the door just as Lee and Alexandrea stepped out of the kitchen fireplace.

“Harry, I feel so sorry for you,” Lee said, shaking his head so that all the ash would fall off his dreadlocks. “Having to live with those Muggles must have been complete hell. Dursley was ready to kill us with his bare hands after we took the Binding spell off of him.”

“Of course, you must note that not too many people would be absolutely thrilled at the fact that their roof imploded,” Alexandrea commented. “But still, I completely agree with Lee. That bodgey Uncle of yours, Harry, is Satan’s second cousin, twice removed.”

“I’m glad you see my point,” Harry said. He then winced as yet another eruption was set off from the second landing, triggering more yelling then ever before.

Alexandrea looked at Ron, the uncommon emotion of acute anxiety travelling across her face. “It’s still going on?”

“Sounds like it,” Ron answered. “I was telling Harry before—we better all head outside for now.”

“We’ll be safe from greater injury out there,” Lee muttered. He then glanced at Alexandrea, who didn’t seem to want to move. “You’re coming, aren’t you?”

Alexandrea bit her lip, her eyes locked on the stairway to the second landing. “No,” she said finally. “I better go up and help. Maybe I can prevent Mrs. Weasley from getting to the point where she strangles Fred and George in a fit of blind rage.”

“Fred and George?” Harry raised an eyebrow. “What did they do? It couldn’t be all that bad.”

Ron mumbled some non-cohesive sentences, pushing Harry out the door. Lee, after watching Alexandrea climb the staircase, jogged to catch up with the two younger Hogwartians.

“She actually went up there,” Lee said as he, Ron, and Harry walked towards the garden. “Alexandrea McKay actually climbed the flight of steps leading to her premature death. That girl is either ruthlessly brave or stupidly thick-headed.”

“My vote goes for thick-headed,” Ron said. “She’s been around here enough to know how long Mum can go on rampaging forever. This time, Fred and George really sent her around the bend.”

“Ron,” Harry, getting slightly frustrated with all that was happening, stopped in his tracks. “Could you please tell me what’s going on around here? It can’t be all that bad. Fred and George didn’t make Percy spontaneously combust, or anything; did they? Er . . . they didn’t, did they?”

Lee sent a look of special meaning towards Ron, who seemed as thwarted as Harry.

“I would love to tell you, Harry,” Ron started slowly, rubbing the back of his head absentmindedly. “You know me – I’ll tell you anything, but . . . but this is as over the top for me as it is for you. Fred and George would do a better job explaining it all, anyways.”

“Assuming that they both live long enough to see Harry again,” Lee commented under his breath.

Knowing he was defeated for the moment, Harry exhaled deeply and rolled his eyes, reluctantly following Ron and Lee as they made their way into the Weasley family garden.

Ginny, the youngest of the seven red-haired siblings, was sitting on a tiny stone bench, her face showing the signs of utter boredom. When she caught sight of the three boys coming her way, however, she jumped right out of her seat.

“You Apparated, didn’t you?” she yelled, throwing her arms up in the air. “Apparated? How thick headed can you be, Ron? Thank God Mum’s still busy with Fred and George; she probably didn’t even realize you left. But I personally had to distract Percy from--”

“So Percy didn’t spontaneously combust after all,” Harry cut off Ginny, keeping his voice quite monotone.

Ginny jerked her head around in surprise, as if she had just noticed that Harry was standing at her brother’s right shoulder. She visually recoiled, her freckled cheeks blushing a soft pink. She didn’t question Harry’s interruption, she didn’t even care to remark; her eyes just simply darted toward her feet in a quick panic.

“Hi, Harry,” she said, quite suddenly much calmer then before. “I’m glad that Ron and Lee and Alex got you here in one piece.”

“Er . . .” Harry scratched the back of his head, arching an eyebrow. “Thanks. I’m glad to be here.”

“Because, you know, Lee and Alex only have their Apparation Learners Permits,” continued Ginny as if she hadn’t heard a word Harry had just said. “And Ron can hardly Apparate two centimetres to the left--”

“Oh, it’s not as if you can do any better, Ginny,” Ron retorted waspishly. “Where do you get off--”

“Okay, kids! That’s plenty sibling rivalry for today,” Lee announced, stepping in between Ron and Ginny. “If you haven’t cared to notice, three of our friends are back in the Burrow and are about to have their life sentences drawn up for them in their own entrails.”

 

“Three?” Ginny said, looking slightly bemused for a moment. “Alexandrea went up there, didn’t she? Oh, why on earth would she stick out her neck for Fred and George?”

“You know perfectly well why,” Ron replied, a bit of harshness left in his voice. “She’s known them for as long as I have. Alex would jump off a cliff into a valley of sharp, pointy rocks if it got Fred and George out of a tight jam.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, quite puzzled. He knew Alexandrea and the Weasley twins had been chummy for an extensive amount of time, but he never dreamed they had known each other for fifteen years. “How could Alex have know them for so long?” he asked.

“Alex told you about her mum, right?” Lee started. Harry shook his head.

“In the dragon business, she is,” Ron continued. “She practically lives with those over-grown lizards. It’s a wonder why she hasn’t sprouted scales and a pair of wings. Of course, she couldn’t very well drag Alex along with her; it’s way too dangerous. Only really experienced people can get within ten meters of a full grown dragon. The Ministry would jump anyone who let a novice near one. So, right after I was born, Alex’s Mum started to drop Alex here when she had to go off dragon chasing for a while. Alex has spent quite a bit of time here, if I’m remembering right. She still does over the summers.”  

“I think that it’s all awful,” Ginny commented, more to herself then to anyone else. “Alex has never spent so much as a long month with her Mum and brother. It’s terrible. She’s been with us more then her own family.”

“Ginny, you’ve met Alex’s mum before,” Lee sat down on the little stone bench and began to throw several large pebbles at a garden gnome which was hiding in a cluster of weeds. “Even thought she might be a bit, er, off the wall at times, she still has a heart. I’m sure, if she could, she would drag Alex everywhere with her.”

“So, I’m assuming she doesn’t belong in the same category as Malfoy’s parents,” Harry remarked.

Ron snorted thickly. “I couldn’t even begin to compare the two. Alex’s Mum is really great; always writes, visits when ever she can. When she does visit, she brings tons of new pranks and gags for us to try out. Mind you, most of them are only legal in small South American countries, but still . . . Comparing Lucius Malfoy with Phiona McKay would be like comparing Snape and Dumbledore. It just isn’t done.”

Harry nodded in a pseudo-understanding, not quite sure what to say next. This aspect of Alexandrea’s life was very new to him. He had known this girl for five years and never even bothered to question her about family or home life. Always trusting Ron’s option, Harry knew Alexandrea’s mother must have wonderful character. Nonetheless, Harry absolutely agreed with Ginny’s outlook on it all; it was horrible that this woman would leave her only daughter with another family as she ran off to go work with some man-eating, over-grown lizards. Ron may have overestimated; Phiona McKay may be easier to compare to Lucius Malfoy then first thought.

“Well then,” Lee rose off of the stone bench to pick up the now unconscious garden gnome and throw it over the fence. “Sorry to stop you all from talking about Alex’s dysfunctional family behind her back, but I believe that we can head back to the house.”

“Lee’s right,” Ginny agreed. “I haven’t heard any screaming for a while.”

Quite randomly, there came a crash from the vicinity of the second landing. A window had shattered, showering the ground below with shards of glass. Something else other then glass fell to the earth as well, however. A plump, brown chicken came streaming towards the grown after being flung out of the window. It landed with as much grace a semi-flightless bird could muster and recovered quickly, pecking and prodding glass out of its dishevelled feathers.

“Bloody hell,” Ron murmured, looking up at the shattered window. “We’re all going to die . . . .”

~*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ~

It took the four Hogwartians some time to build up enough courage to even think about re-entering the Burrow. Several minutes pasted by and (when no poultry came flying through any of the remaining windows) Ron, Lee, and Ginny each declared that it was safe enough to go inside the house. Harry eagerly followed their decision, wondering when on earth he was going to find out what had caused all of the ongoing controversy.

Mrs. Weasley was in the kitchen, fussing about something on the stove and muttering under her breath. She was dressed in a dark maroon housecoat with matching slippers. A baby blue towel was rapped around her head like a miniature turban. She turned around quickly, giving a yelp of surprise while flinging her wand to the side as she caught sight of Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Lee standing at the door.

“Oh . . . oh my,” Mrs. Weasley exhaled deeply, bending down to pick up her wand. “I didn’t hear you kids come in. In fact, I didn’t even hear you leave--”

“We, er, went by Floo powder to pick Harry up,” Ron said slowly, nodding at Harry with a bit of uneasiness in his voice.

Mrs. Weasley’s wide eyes travelled to Harry. Her face suddenly spilt into a large, warm, motherly smile. “Harry, dear! We started to worry when your owl didn’t come around as often. You know, I’ve never trusted those Muggles you’ve lived with. My goodness, when Albus Dumbledore gave us permission, I sent Ron and Lee off as soon as possible. I hope they got you all right.”

“Yes. No problems,” Harry exchanged glances with Ron and Lee. “No problems at all.”

“Oh good,” Mrs. Weasley turned back to the stove, motioning Ginny to retrieve a stalk of broccoli for her. “I know Lee and Alexandrea were talking about Apparating there. Honestly. Sometimes I think that Dumbledore hasn’t taught you kids any common sense--”

Mrs. Weasley was impudently interrupted by a large hammering noise coming from somewhere above them.

“DON’T YOU DARE!” Mrs. Weasley wailed. She grabbed a broom from the corner of the room and trusted the handle into the ceiling above several times. “I’M WARNING YOU! DO YOU WANT ME TO COME UP THERE AGAIN?”

All noises above ceased instantaneously. The stimuli had decided to stop completely rather then deal with the unabridged wrath that Molly Weasley was certainly ready to dish out.

“Oh, sometimes I don’t know what to do with them,” Mrs. Weasley burst suddenly, talking more to herself then to anyone else. “The things they do . . . God knows I’ve tried my hardest to stop all this nonsense . . . I can’t imagine what will happen if the Ministry ever picks then up for anything . . . Arthur would probably have to bail all three out . . . And, Phiona—Oh, Phiona would certainly be no help . . . She’d probably encourage them . . .”

Harry, who was slightly spacing out from Mrs. Weasley’s ranting about Fred, George, and Alexandrea, was thrown back into the real world by a sharp elbow in the ribs from Ron. Once he had gathered Harry’s attention, Ron nodded in the direction of the staircase which led to the second floor landing. Lee had been slowly sneaking towards it all this time, and was now carefully climbing the stairs.

Ron gave his friend a look of questioning. Harry nodded to confirm.

‘Lets go,’ he mouthed.

Harry and Ron made their way towards the stairs as Mrs. Weasley turned around to check what was burning in the oven. Making sure that she and Ginny wasn’t watching, the two Gryffindor fifth years bolted up to the second landing.

~*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ~

“You’re crazy. Did you hear me, Lee? You’re bloody stark raving mad to come up here.”

“Then that must make you a certified psychopath and Harry a raging lunatic. You both are following me . . . and you’re calling me crazy? You’ve got your wires crossed somewhere, Ronniekinns.”

Minus Ron and Lee’s silent bickering, Harry felt as if he was walking down a hall of one of Hogwarts abandon dungeons. The second landing was usually full of uncontrollable laughter and random explosions; it was now eerily quiet and unnaturally desolate. The ghoul in the attic had apparently given up on banging on pipes and was, in turn, moaning like a dying cat. This combined with the hooting of one of the owls, which had taken up residence in a shoe closet, sent a brief chill up the nape of Harry’s neck.

At the very end of the hall, Lee turned around and motioned Harry and Ron to keep absolutely quiet. He then, slowly and carefully, pushed open the door of the Weasley twin’s bedroom.

“—stupidest thing you could ever do. It was like I was having an out of body experience while your brains were being replaced with the IQ of a duck-billed platypus.”

“Platypus? Where did that come from?”

“Sorry. I’m a bit off today. Can’t really thick of a proper insult that suits your level of stupidity.”

“No worries, Al. It’s understandable.”

“Take your own sweet time, beautiful.”

“Oh, go kick off. The both of you.”

“That was it? That was your insult?”

“I really think you need to hire a new writer, my friend.”

Harry, Ron, and Lee took a chance and peeked inside the room. Alexandrea was seated on the floor, leaning against the foot of the bunk beds, her face showing signs of complete frustration. On the other side of the room sat Fred and George Weasley, smiles of utter accomplishment on their faces.

Except . . . these two boys didn’t quite looked like the Fred and George Harry was so used to seeing.

One of the twins (Harry had not the slightest idea which one) had an extremely different look to him. His hair was quite a bit shorter and stuck out as if he had just rolled out of bed. There was also not a speck of his famous ‘Weasley Red Hair’ left on top of his head. It was now all a bright, neon blue.

The other twin’s main had served a similar fate, though it hadn’t been cut as short. And, instead of the blue, the colour of his hair had stayed somewhat normal; through, along with his natural orange, there were spikes of deep red and bleach blond, making it look as though his head was set aflame. There was also something growing on the edge of his chin; something that humorously resembled several fuzzy orange caterpillar launching a ruthless attack on his face.

“Are you mates alright?” Lee asked, being the first one to step into the room, closely followed by Harry and Ron.

“We’re fine. It’s nothing Fred and I couldn’t handle,” A blue haired George Weasley casually got to his feet, rubbing the side of his neck. His hazel eyes travelled across the room to meet Harry’s. A huge grin crossed his freckled face. “Ah, Harry, old bean! How’s the grand world been treating you?”

“Er—Okay . . . I guess,” Harry had an incredibly hard time tearing his eyes away from the Weasley twin’s hair. He wondered if staring at the frighteningly bright colour would have the same effects as the sun; either way, your retina would start to fry like eggs in a skillet.

“I see you can’t help but bask in our glory,” Fred commented, pulling at a tuff of his flaming hair. “Like it?”

“It’s, erm, nice,” Harry answered awkwardly.

“Oh dear God, Harry. Don’t lie. It only encourages them that much more.” Alexandrea exclaimed, holding her head in her hands.

“She’s right,” Ron added with a smirk. “They’ve been absolute horrors to live with already. The hair just made them worse.”

Fred arched an eyebrow at his younger sibling. “We know you’re just jealous,” he said jauntily. “But that doesn’t mean you have to lash out at us like that.”

“Get over yourself, Freddy-boy,” Alexandrea rolled her eyes. “That fuzzy chin of yours looks like you’re being overrun by a patch of rabid Amazonian fungus. And your head,” she stood up to run her fingers through George’s hair, “makes you look like some punk rock group from America.”

“Ouch, Al,” Fred winced and put a hand on his heart, doing his best to look mortally wounded. “That really hurt.”

“Why did you dye your hair, anyways?” Harry asked.

George smiled evilly as if giving Harry an answer was an extreme pleasure. He stuck a hand in his pocket and pulled out a fist full of strange little striped mints.

“These,” he said with absolute flourish, “are Chromatic Confections, more commonly known as ColourMints. Our newest addition to the Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes collection.”

“They were suppose to turn your face different colours, but something got mixed up a bit,” Fred commented, ruffling his twin’s blue hair.

“In addition to that, they came on a little more powerful then first expected,” George casually delivered an elbow into Fred’s chest, causing him to stop the ‘noogie-fest’.

Harry raised an eyebrow. “What happened?”

“They’re complete idiots, that’s what happened,” Alexandrea broke in. “I told them to test far away from their parents just in case the mints did something unexpected. I wanted Fred and George to blow themselves up on their own sweet time, not with the company of others.”

“But we didn’t blow ourselves up, did we?” George pointed out.

“Sadly,” Ron commented.

“You’re lucky we didn’t slip one into your oatmeal this morning at breakfast, Ronniekinns,” Fred said. “Alex and I were quite tempted with the whole idea, until George pointed out that we still had some Laxative Pills left over from last week.”

Ron gulped, his face going a little pale. “Lax . . . . La . . . . Laxative Pills?”

“The chickens got a hold of them before we had a chance, though,” George said, a little bit of disappointment in his voice. “They’ll be crapping all over the place in a couple hours.”

“For once, I’m glad they didn’t use you as their test dummy, Ron,” Lee said, taking a seat on the lower bunk bed. “Everyone would either have to deal with you wetting your pants or have hair styles from hell.”

“You mean those mints effect the people around you, too?” Harry asked with complete astonishment.

“Of course not,” Fred replied a little too quickly.

“Harry knows your lying,” Alexandrea commented flatly to Fred.

“Harry also knows you’re a big prat,” Fred shot back. “In fact the whole world knows you’re a big prat.”

Alexandrea shook her head in complete disgust. “You and I both need to hire better writers, Fredski,” she said. “We stink at insulting each other today.”

“It’s all a bit sad, isn’t it?” Fred observed.

“Well, there’s always tomorrow.”

“Right you are.”

“And I’m already starting to run out of material about your new style. There are only so many bad hair jokes in the world, you know.”

“Oh, don’t strain yourself too hard, beautiful.”

“Would you two stuff it?” Ron finally interrupted. “You’re driving us all off our onions.”

“And you already drove your Mum off the deep end,” Lee pointed out, itching the bottom of one of his feet. “Do you get some sort of enjoyment out of sending people to St. Mungoes?”

Fred arched an eyebrow and exchanged a look with his twin.

“You lot heard Mum blow her top?” George asked.

“How could we not have?” Ron asked. “She was screaming louder then the time you filled the well with Filibuster Fireworks, making half of Ottery St. Catchpole’s septic tanks explode.”

“You two were both knee deep in crap,” Alexandrea said off-handily. Then, as a second thought, she added, “Forgive the bad pun.”

George, who didn’t seem to hear a word Alexandrea said, stuffed his ColourMints back into his pocket. “Well, it wasn’t our fault that Mum and Dad decided to waltz right into the kitchen when we started testing the Chromatic Confections.”

“Yes! And it wasn’t our fault that the mints were too powerful, causing everyone in a ten meter radius to sprout different colour ha--” Fred stopped in mid-sentence. “Oh, no wait . . . that is kind of our fault, isn’t it?”

“Oh, Jesus-Christ-bananas . . .” Alexandrea slapping her forehead with an open palm. This was, of course, a purely McKay random blunt statement which she often spurted out when extremely frustrated. Fred had once compiled a list of Alex-isms, and ‘Jesus-Christ-bananas’ was high on it, along with such standbys as ‘Son of a Pianist’, ‘Holy Mother on a Hot Tin Roof’, and ‘Shakespeare on the Loo’.

“Sing it again, sister,” Lee started to poke fun, but was interrupted by a small voice coming from the open door.

“Mum says that dinner’s ready,” Ginny Weasley had poked her head in from around the corner. “And that Fred and George better not be feeling sorry for themselves.”

“You lot all go ahead,” Fred said as a mysterious grin split across his face. “George and I will be along in a minute.’

The two older Hogwartians got up and stepped out into the hall, but Alexandrea paused for a second in the hall and turned around.

“Please you two, for the love of all that is Quidditch, please don’t pull anything crazy.”

Fred and George said nothing, but simultaneously blew innocent kisses towards Alexandrea, who returned the favour by rolling her eyes and leaving with Lee and Ginny down the stairs. Harry and Ron, however, stayed behind.

“You two aren’t really planning anything, are you?” Harry raised a questioning eyebrow.

“Because, if you are, I better send an owl to St. Mungoes,” Ron warned. “You’ll absolutely give Mum a seizure if you pull anything tonight.”

The Weasley twins exchanged identical evil grins that would make Satan himself quiver with fear.

“Now, my dear, sweet, little brother . . . . Have you ever known us to be that devious?”

“Er . . . . Never mind. Don’t answer that question . . . .”

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Author’s Random Notes In Which She Would Love Everyone To Read

Hello, all! I’d just like to thank every one of you who has read this far. And, extra bonus points to you if you left a review. Yes, that’s right: REVIEWS. We all know they’re out there, somewhere; and we all know we have to deal with them sometime in our lives, which leads me today’s lesson: Make an author happy and review a story. It would certainly make my day (Hint, hint, wink, wink, nudge, nudge, say no more . . . .)

I hope you all continue on with this story. Believe me, it’ll be all worth it in the end. (*Insert evil laugh here*). Now, I must apologize to each and every one of you for messing around with the Weasley twin’s hair. I’M SORRY! I was a bit off, didn’t have my morning tea to wake me up, and the hair thing just popped up and stayed there. Leave a post and tell me what you think. Also, want to get involved in this story? Got some funny Alex-isms bubbling in back of your mind? Leave me a post or send me an owl and you’ll see your Alex-ism (Along with your pen name. You get full credit, my friends) throughout this story.

Well then, I must be off and finish the next chapter . . .

Cheers and All the Best!

PezMaster