Harry Potter and the Gem of Grogonous

"Sooner or later, we all quote our mothers."

-- Bern Williams

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Chapter 6

Visit from Phiona Love

The morning was absolutely perfect. Birds that had just awoken were twittering softly with each other while taking their places on the branches of dew ridden trees. Faint grey light shone through Ron's window, product of morning stars which were still hanging onto the sky. It was almost as if Harry was placed in a scenic oil painting; no sound could taint such a lovely landscape of the English country side.

"RON!"

Harry winced as Mrs. Weasley's bellow hit his ear drums then continued to bounce around the room. Ron groaned melodramatically as his head suddenly appeared out from underneath a mass of wool blankets.

"What?" he yelled back blearily.

"Make sure Harry's awake! You've all got to eat breakfast!"

Ron groaned again, not believing what he was hearing, and let his head flop back down on his pillow. "Mum, we've got loads of time!"

"Oh no, you don't! Now hurry it up, the both of you!"

Breathing a great sigh of defeat, Ron slid backwards out of bed until only his feet were sprawled across his mattress. "There you are, Harry," he said lazily. "She's gone completely off of her onion, but there you are."

Harry mumbled some non-cohesive words of agreement, but rose out of bed all the same. Leaving Ron to sift through a pile of laundry in search of a pair of matching socks, Harry wandered sleepily down the creaking staircase and into the Weasleys' kitchen.

"Morning, Mrs. Weasley," he said blindly.

"Morning to yourself, honey. But, unfortunately, Molly's a little caught up at the moment. Insisted to run out back and retrieve the forks I buried. God knows the last place she'll look will be by the manure pile, next to all her spoons."

The stranger's voice finally snapped Harry out of his little dream world. He dug his glasses out from his pocket and jammed them on his face. The person sitting at the kitchen table certainly wasn't Mrs. Weasley; a wiry little witch was perched upon the tallest stool at the head of the weathered table. Her robes were far from new, containing so many patches that hardly any of the original material showed through. The condition of her robes were only rivalled by her hair, which was so chaotic Harry wondered if the witch had even used a comb or brush in her life. Extremely frizzy and flyaway, the witch's hair was scattered with careless braids and sprinkled lightly by silver strains.

"Hullo," said the scrawny witch as she grinned kindly. For the first time, she caught Harry's glance with eyes so dark in colour, they made black look like a pleasant pastel. Harry could have sworn that fireworks were constantly being set off in the witch's brain, causing that lively flash which set off her pupils.

"Er . . ." was the most decent reply Harry could form at the moment.

The off patch of silent was cut quite short by several loud and bewildered gasps from the top of the stairs. Ron, Fred, George, and Lee were crowded in behind Harry, each one of them completely stunned, as if they had all seen some terrific apparition. The wiry witch sitting at the kitchen table grinned wildly, her eyes flashing mysteriously once more, and then somewhat lazily lobbed a piece of toast slathered with orange marmalade at the four speechless boys. The flying breakfast food hit George square on the forehead and stuck there, but he was so bewildered that he didn't seem to notice.

The witch's smile grew even wider, as impossible as it seemed. "What?" she said as a blob of marmalade slipped down George's chin and onto Lee's head. "Do I have a bogie hanging from my nose?"

Someone answered by uttering a very undignified gagging noise, sounding more dumbfounded then the other four boys combined. Alexandrea had just made an appearance behind Ron's left shoulder, her wide eyes connecting with the little witch

"M . . . Mmmm . . . Mum?"

"Oh, for the love of cobbing," the witch commented thickly, rolling her eyes. "Quit gawking at me like I'm going to keel over and give me a hug, already."

Ron, Lee, Alexandrea, and the twins nearly bowled Harry over on their way into the kitchen. The scrawny witch embraced them all, planting kisses on each of their foreheads while chattering energetically.

"Oh Dear God, Ron! What on earth has Molly been feeding you? Soon, we'll have to use you as a Muggle telephone pole . . . Lee, ah, stuck with those dreadlocks, eh? Well, it's your head, honey. Be as crazy as you want to be . . . Fred? George? You're both one yard away from handsome, if I do say so myself. I thoroughly enjoyed what you did with your parents' hair. Though, I personally would have gone with the hot pink . . . And there's my Alexandrea, my dear little themos. You've grown up so much!"

Harry stood back and watched the little reunion, slightly bemused. He coughed into his sleeve, finally catching the attention of Ron, who grabbed him by the arm and pulled him over to the front of the table.

"Harry," Ron said, doing his best to provide a cohesive introduction. "This is Phiona, Alex's mum."

"That I am." The little witch gave a wink, offering a hand to Harry, who took it and winced under the pressure of her grip. "Nice to see you again, Mr. Potter."

Having no idea where or when they had met previously, Harry replied, "Pleased to meet you Mrs. McKay," and breathed a little sigh of relief as the witch released his hand. He had to flex his fingers to make sure nothing was broken.

"Erm . . . it's Love, honey." Phiona's crooked smile faded slightly. "Phiona Love. Didn't change my maiden name when I got hitched. In fact, lets just sick with Phiona, nice and simple like. If you think about it long enough, McKay's quite a humorous last name. Should be stomped out before anyone else gets stuck with the bugger."

Alexandrea arched an eyebrow. "Thanks Mum."

"Sweetheart, I gave birth to you," Phiona Love said bluntly. "You need to pay me back with some form of amusement."

"You lot are so lucky to have a sane mother," Alexandrea murmured, her hands cupping her face.

"Sanity's overrated, honey." Phiona leaned back and placed her feet on top of the table.

"Oh, Phiona. Stop holding up the kids." Mrs. Weasley came storming back into the kitchen, her arms full with assorted utensils which she had just dug up from the garden. "They've got a Portkey to catch."

"Don't get your smalls in a bunch, Molls," Phiona replied. "I haven't seen the little cabbages in years."

"Well then, you can wait a few more days, can't you? And for Merlin's sake, please keep your feet off the table."

As Mrs. Weasley dumped the soiled silverware into the sink and began to tend to the eggs on the stove, Harry and his fellow Hogwartians took their places at the kitchen table. Alexandrea sunk into a seat next to her mother, who had grown tired of annoying Mrs. Weasley and so preceded to construct a little model house out of sausages.

"What are you doing here?" Alexandrea asked, not sounding a bit pleased with her mother's sudden appearance. "I thought you'd be in Queensland by now. Degen wrote and said that they've been having trouble with a blind Opaleye."

"Ah, yes, well . . . Degen had something going on in Manchester. Have no idea what. You know the boy, gets into anything and everything," Phiona replied with no concern whatsoever as she began to devour the roof and chimney of her miniature sausage house. "So I decided to come down and fulfil my motherly duty; Seeing my daughter and favourite red-headed family while Degen's off in his own little world."

"Who's Degen?" Harry asked Ron, quite overwhelmed with this new leg of Alexandrea's family.

"That's Alex's big brother," said Ron, pouring himself a glass of juice. "Works with Charlie in the dragon field. A little too obsessed with the whole 'Save-The-Over-Grown, Man-Eating-Lizards' thing, if you ask me."

"Dragons are kind of the family business, honey. Goes back seven generations, excluding Uncle Doobie of course. Spent all his time experimenting with goats and petrol," Phiona gave Harry a wink. "The poor dear went and blew himself up in a freak livestock accident. But dragons . . . dragons are probably the best thing you can get into if you crave a bit of excitement here and there. Why, just take a look at this little souvenir I got from a Fireball in Xing." She rolled up her sleeve revealing a fresh burn up her lower arm.

"Wicked!" exclaimed Lee and the twins.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Phiona!" Mrs. Weasley, who had chosen that inopportune moment to turn around, caught sight of the festering wound and dropped her plate of eggs in utter disgust.

"Sorry, Molls." The wiry witch smiled, trying her best to look sheepish, and rolled her sleeve back down.

As Mrs. Weasley stormed out of the kitchen, mumbling something about childish behaviour under her breath, Fred finally took the time to peel the marmalade toast off his twin's forehead.

"Nice to see you again, Phiona," the fire-haired Weasley said cheerfully, taking a bite out of the piece of toast. "Now, do you happen to have anything extra for an. . . erm, memorable last year at Hogwarts for George, Lee, Al, and I?"

"Get strait down to business, don't you handsome?" Phiona gave Fred a wink and dug a hand into one of her many frayed pockets. She then dropped a handful of very bizarre-looking scarlet caplets on the table in front of Harry. "You lot will have quite a bit of unabridged fun with these. Cortemanch seeds. The Aurors used them years ago to help pick out traitors within the Ministry. Didn't work out too well, though; blew up a couple people, they did. Needless to say, they're, erm . . . contraband now. I managed to weed a few out for you kids."

"What do they do?" Harry asked the obvious question, his eyes locked on the tiny seeds in front of him.

"Well, when someone - erm, oh . . . hallo Molls."

Everyone quickly turned towards the kitchen entrance and caught sight of Mrs. Weasley standing at the door, frowning deeply at Alexandrea's mother as if she had done it a million times before.

"I hope you're not giving them anyone pranks, Phiona. They certainly don't need that sort of nonsense."

"Come off it, Molly," Phiona smiled and put her feet back on top of the table, right into the large plate of eggs. "It's a tradition! Every generation, the seventh years try to create as much chaos as humanly possible for their last hurrah." She sighed, as if daring to imagine the possibilities. "I remember my last year of Hogwarts. My mates had a hard time keeping up. We claimed most of our better pranks 'accidents' so that we didn't get booted out of school. Oh, but all of it was worth it, my dears. Every bit."

"I heard that they're still cleaning up from it," Lee chortled.

"You should have seen the explosion," Phiona started. "Took half of Hogwarts' dungeons with it. Something for you kids to live up to -"

Mrs. Weasley cleared her throat loudly, interrupting Phiona Love before the frizzy-haired witch could continue on. "Phiona, for the love of God, don't plant any ideas in their heads," Mrs. Weasley pleaded. "They all get into enough trouble without you leading them on. Honestly, Phiona, I'm tired of you encouraging the children to break the rules just to - TAKE YOU FEET OFF THE TABLE!"

Before Phiona Love could throw back a retort, the harmless looking Cortemach seeds erupted into little balls of fire, plastering everyone and everything in the kitchen with flying breakfast food.

"Er . . . sorry 'bout that, Molls -"

Clenching her fists tightly, Mrs. Weasley's face steadily began to turn a dark maroon. "Everybody . . . OUT!"

Without having to be told twice, the six Hogwartians and Phiona Love bolted out of the kitchen, running as if the Devil himself was behind them wielding a pitchfork. They finally stopped outside the garden, causing a group of congregating lawn gnomes to scatter with fright.

"As I was going to say before we were so rudely interrupted, the seeds have that sort of effect when someone is thinking, shall we say, less than benevolent thoughts about someone else," Phiona explained to Harry and the others as she began to pick bits of eggs out of her throng of hair.

George raised a mused eyebrow. "So you're saying that our Mum wanted you to get mauled by a rabid hippogriff back there?"

"In a blunt sense, yes," Phiona grinned, the good humour absolutely beaming from her dark eyes. She began to dig through her pockets, producing a handful of the tiny Cortemach seeds for each Hogwartian. "And, if anyone asks, you didn't get these little buggers from me. In fact, we never met."

"Oh, of course," George winked, pocketing the gift for a later date. "Now, we have something for you."

"Chromatic Confections," announced Fred as he pulled out a little blue bag bursting with his and George's new product. "More commonly known as ColourMints."

"They were supposed to change faces different colours," continued George.

"But all they did was make people look like they dyed their hair while they were tanked out of their bloody minds," finished Fred.

"Oh, and they effect the people in the same general area as you, too."

"Psh. All that means is Georgie dropped too much aeroroot into the boiler."

"What can I say? My whole life is one big accident."

"ColourMints, eh?" Phiona took a candy out of the blue bag Fred had presented her with and eyed it closely. "You two are regular idiot savants."

Alexandrea chortled. "Take out the 'savant' part and your spot on."

"Here here!" Lee raised an imaginary glass in order to pay tribute to the toast.

"Put me down for that one, too," Ron decided to add a remark.

"You three wouldn't know a true twisted genius if one started to dance naked in front of you," Fred quickly shot back, crossing his arms.

Raising an eyebrow, Alexandrea snorted with disgust. "I think I'd notice if anyone danced in the buff, thank you very much." She sniffed.

"I certainly hope so," Phiona commented, the ends of her mouth twitching. "And anyways, Alexandrea, I'm surprised and utterly horrified that you don't give your friends more credit. If they keep coming up with these half-arse ideas, Fred and George'll give old Zonko a run for his money. I might even be forced to, erm, edge, you into the Weasley family just so I could be related to these two berks."

"What do you mean edge into the Wesley fa -- oh Christ." Alexandrea quickly picked up her mother's point and exchanged an alienating look with Fred and George. "Frankly, Mother, I'd rather kill myself."

"Ouch, Al. You wound us." Fred smirked demonically and hooked arms with his disgruntled companion.

"I'll wound you even more if you continue to touch me."

Lee and Phiona Love snorted with laughter as Ron and Harry looked blankly at each other. This all was too psychopathic for cohesive words to explain.

Sensing that Harry and Ron weren't keeping up with all the randomness, Phiona began to nudge the boys back to the burrow. "Why don't you two run along and see if it's safe to go back inside," she suggested. "I still have to talk to your elders a little more. You understand, don't you?"

"Not at all," Ron replied bluntly. "But I don't think it's healthy for Harry and me to stay any longer."

"Spot on, handsome."

Ron rolled his eyes overenthusiastically as he and Harry started out of the garden and towards the leaning Burrow. Harry, however, couldn't help but give a glance back over his shoulder at Alexandrea's mother and the four older Hogwartians.

"Ron," he asked slowly, trying to choose his words carefully. "Is Mrs. Love a little . . . er, what I mean to say is - is she kind of -"

"Off of her onion?" Ron finished Harry's string of thoughts. "I suppose so. I mean, she's been acting like that since I've known her. She's always rambling on about how a sense of humour doesn't die just because you get older, it dies because other people kill it. Phiona's not giving hers up without a fight."

"Fred and George must think she's their Messiah," Harry smirked.

"They hero-worship the woman," Ron confirmed. "Which is kind of creepy. Fred and George love her more that Alex does."

"You're right," Harry nodded thoughtfully. "Alexandrea didn't seem too pleased that her Mum for a visit. You'd think that she'd be absolutely ecstatic . . ."

"Don't think into the McKay family too deeply, Harry," warned Ron. "I certainly try not to. That family is all a bit upside-down and backwards; I reckon even Alex doesn't like to talk about them.

As Ron opened the door to the Burrow, Harry ran his fingers across the seemingly harmless Cortemache seeds which lay in his pocket. Despite Phiona Love's almost untrustworthy character, Harry predicted that they were going to have quite a bit of fun with the strange woman's contraband seeds.

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