Harry Potter and the Sticking Broom

Chapter 2: Life's Too Short for Reading Warning Labels

Quite a crowd had assembled down at the lake by the time Hermione arrived. Lavender Brown, Seamus Finnigan, Parvati Patil and Dean Thomas were all reclining on the grassy bank. They had rolled up their sleeves, slipped off their shoes and socks and were enjoying a lavish picnic from a basket that was the size of a laundry hamper. Hermione pitied the poor house-elf who had to magic that enormous basket all the way from the kitchens.

Some of the seventh years were gathered around Lee Jordan, who was conducting a Flobberworm race. Several worms, which Lee had charmed so that they were all different colours, were being placed in the center of a circle drawn on the ground. Lee took bets from his fellow students on which colouredworm would crawl out the circle first. A group of students, who had previously backed worms that had either burrowed into the ground, or simply fallen asleep, were arguing with Lee as he pocketed the Sickles from the punters for the next race.

Hermione looked among the various groups of relaxing students, all of whom she hoped had finished their examinations, for her closest friends. She heard them before she spotted them.

"Genevieve Elektra Weasley!" Ron Weasley's voice roared. "You'll pay for that!"

Ron's hair was typically very orange, but from a distance Hermione observed that today it was even more orange than usual. This was because his head and shoulders were saturated in pumpkin juice, a fact that his little sister seemed to find hilarious. Ron grabbed Ginny, who was giggling uncontrollably, under her arms and lifted her off the ground. Ginny Weasley was a tiny girl, the only one of the seven Weasley children who was still shorter than their exceedingly short mother. Her feet dangled high above the ground, but she wiggled frantically and Ron was in danger of losing his grip. He called to his best friend, "Give us a hand with this Harry. Let's see how she likes being wet through!"

"No! No!" Ginny squealed. "Fair go, Ron, I swear it was an accident. Just practicing levitations. Honestly!"

"Well, why don't we help you levitate, then?" Ron asked, lifting her towards Harry Potter. Harry awkwardly clutched her wriggling feet. The two boys carried Ginny Weasley to the shore of the lake and began swinging her over the water's edge. Hermione started to hurry down to the water, hoping that things were not going to get much further out of hand.

Ginny, Harry and Ron were laughing so hard that they didn't notice the lake's chief inhabitant taking a particular interest. "Look out!" Hermione shouted, but there was an enormous splash before she could add, "for the squid."

After much thrashing about, Harry rose up from the water with a tentacle still wrapped around his foot. Ron, who had overbalanced trying to save the others, was festooned with slimy pondweed. Equally muddy and wet, Ginny sputtered as she walked back to the bank, where her fellow fourth years hooted and pointed at her.

Hermione Granger folded her arms and addressed Harry and Ron. "My goodness, look at the pair of you," she scolded. "How do you expect to get cleaned up in time for your next class?"

"It's double Divination," Harry said as he kicked at the affectionate cephalopod. A long, salmon pink tentacle was caressing his shin. "Won't matter if we're late. Trelawney's been practically asleep for the last two classes."

"Not asleep," Ron corrected him. He half closed his eyes and his voice mimicked the excited whisper of their Divination teacher. "She is attaining a trance-like state to allow the clearest possible working of her inner eye." He waved his hands dramatically above his head as he waded out of the water, intoning, "When the brown haired girl becomes annoyed, the midget with glasses shall lose a shoe!"

Harry looked down and realised that the squid had indeed made off with one of his shoes. Crossly, he said, "Besides, the exams are all over, Hermione. I don't think any of the teachers are going to be too fussed what we do between now and the end of the year."

"Well, maybe Snape," began Ron, pulling a sour face. He sat down, dripping wet, on the grass and poured the water out of his enormous boots.

"Not too fussed?" Hermione was incredulous. "But it's less than two years to go till our N.E.W.T.s!"

"You know," said Ron, "a remark like that is practically asking for a dip in the lake. You've just finished your O.W.L.s! Can't you relax for one afternoon? And what's this?" Ron, stood up again to pull the Brews-U-Like brochure out of Hermione's hand. He looked at the Veelapop witch on the cover and exclaimed, "Phwoar! She's all right!"

"Stop it Ron," pleaded Hermione. "You'll get it wet."

Harry finally hobbled out of the water and tried to dry his glasses on his wet robes. "What do you want with Brews-U-Like?" he asked. "Are you getting a job there for the holidays?"

"As though I would!" Hermione said indignantly, trying to snatch back the leaflet, which Ron was waving over her head. "If you must know, they're sponsoring an international essay competition. Professor McGonagall thought I should enter."

"An essay! Why would anybody want to be writing essays at this time of the year?" Harry asked in amazement.

"I dunno," said Ron as he perused the brochure. "Some of the prizes are OK. There's a trip to Uluru, wherever that is."

"It's to the Apothecaries and Alchemists Guild Convention," said Hermione importantly. "It sounds very educational."

"I'll say," snorted Ron as he read more, "special guest speaker, Professor Severus Snape. Honestly, you don't really want to go to Agadoo with that git, do you?"

"It's the first prize, Ron. I don't think I need to worry," said Hermione. She retrieved her soggy leaflet and quickly worked a drying charm over it. "Still, as an intellectual exercise I think the whole contest will be quite stimulating."

Harry merely rolled his eyes, as if to say Hermione really deserved to be thrown in the lake for saying things like that. However, instead of rising to her bait he sighed and said, "I guess we'll have to get changed before Divination." The three friends walked up to the castle, talking of everything and anything except the stimulating virtues of writing a Potions essay.

They passed Angelina Johnson, who was hurrying out of the castle's main entrance with a spring in her step. She stopped Harry, saying, "How's it going, Potter? Been for a swim? O.W.L.s all done?"

"Er, yes, yesterday," said Harry, who was unused to Angelina being cheerful or pleasant.

"Superb," Angelina said. "I've got a bit of excitement for you then. Can you bring your broom down to the Quidditch pitch after classes today?"

"Sure," Harry said, happy at the prospect that he might be back on his Firebolt again.

"And Weasley," Angelina said, her mood turning from sunny back to its customary surliness, "if you see either of your miserable excuses for brothers, tell them to get their worthless carcasses down to the pitch as well."

After Angelina passed, Hermione whispered to Ron, "That must be the rudest girl I've ever met."

Ron agreed. "I can't tell whether the Harpies want her as a player or a mascot."

The boys headed up to Gryffindor tower but Hermione, armed with her contest application form, made for the library. Standing on a moving staircase on the way there, she glanced at the Potions essay topic. She hadn't even had a chance to consider the topic before and was disturbed by the contest organisers' choice: "While potions for the relief of pain are commonplace, potions which cause or intensify pain also have a long history. Discuss with special reference to potions that cripple, nag, annoy or really give you the heebie jeebies."

It was an unsettling topic for a couple of reasons. Firstly, Hermione could never stomach the fact that, while cursing and hexing were clearly branded by the wizarding world as part of the Dark Arts, harming a fellow wizard with a potion was not. Thus, it was perfectly acceptable for Professor Snape to threaten to poison, or in the case of Snape's treatment of Neville Longbottom, to actually poison people. Brewing lethal potions (and thankfully their antidotes) had become a normal part of Hermione's education. There wasn't a fifth year student who didn't know how to kill or maim with a brew. Yet, until Barty Crouch had highjacked her Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons last year, Hermione and her peers had not even been officially informed that a killing curse existed. It was an illogical double standard, and Hermione hated anything that was illogical.

The other reason Hermione disapproved of the essay topic was that Brews-U-Like was the manufacturer of Aches Away pills, the wizarding world's most popular all purpose pain relievers. Naturally, she thought, they want to know all about causing pain. The more pain that's about, the more pills they sell. Hermione strongly suspected that Brews-U-Like was hoping the contestants might unearth some new recipes for niggling pain potions, which the company could slip into all its bottles of brews to boost the sales of Aches Away.

On reaching the library, she checked the catalogue and headed for the Restricted Section. As she suspected, none of the sorts of potions she would need to research could be found in standard texts. Madam Pince had granted Hermione free range of the library nearly a year ago, so that the iron gates to the Restricted Section recognised Hermione and opened unquestioningly.

She was navigating the labyrinth of shelves towards the unfamiliar territory of the Potions Restricted Section, when she heard two familiar voices quietly squabbling.

"No need to drink it all! Oh look, sweet Merlin, you've drained the last drop," Fred Weasley whispered in complaint, as he held a Sneakypop bottle upside down and shook it vigorously.

"But there was hardly anything left. Besides, I need it more than you," said his twin, George.

"You wouldn't need it at all if you'd studied," griped Fred.

"Not fair," George responded. "You know the trouble I've always had with birds."

"What are you two doing here?" Hermione asked, startling the twins.

"We could ask the same of you," Fred replied, trying to sound nonchalant. "Lurking around corners like an Erkling."

"I'm doing research," Hermione huffed. "Madam Pince has given me permission to come in here. I'll bet she doesn't even know you're in the library, let alone hiding here drinking that stuff."

"Well, what if she doesn't?" Fred countered, sounding panicky. "You're not a prefect yet, you know."

"You do realise that all those mass produced potions are really shoddily made," Hermione advised, trying to ignore Fred's rudeness. "I shouldn't wonder that you'll have some side-effects. I hope you haven't had the whole bottle."

"Actually, Miss Percept-O-Brite," George said, "that's my third bottle this week, and I feel as fit as a fiddle, thank you for asking."

Hermione's jaw dropped. "Three bottles! Didn't you read the warning label?"

"Life's too short for reading warning labels," Fred announced with a dismissive wave.

"Or for wearing warm sweaters, writing thank you notes or flying at tolerable speeds," agreed George.

"But it might take weeks until the damage shows," warned Hermione. Then she remembered something. "By the way, Angelina's after the pair of you."

If the twins were jumpy before, they were positively terrified now. "Wha - what does she want?" Fred stammered.

"She didn't say," Hermione answered, enjoying the consternation she was causing.

"Did she mention anything about, oh say, just by way of example, Transfiguration?" asked George.

"No," Hermione replied, a little confused by the question, "but she was called up to McGonagall's office earlier today."

Fred and George Weasley turned very pale. Neither was able to make any sound, although they were both opening and closing their mouths like stunned goldfish. Finally Fred spoke, "McGonagall?"

"I think we'd best be off," said George quickly, placing the empty bottle of Sneakypop on a bookshelf and grabbing his brother by the arm.

"She wants to see you on the Quidditch pitch after classes today," Hermione said as the twins hurried guiltily past her. She thought, Not that it looks as though you'll actually be attending any classes today.

As Hermione watched the twins disappear behind the shelves she tried to decide what mischief they might be up to now. It seemed unthinkable to her that Fred and George would be breaking school rules so blatantly, with only four weeks to go until they left Hogwarts forever. Didn't they care about being expelled? Fortunately, her musings distracted her sufficiently to allow a silent, black robed figure to exit unnoticed through the Restricted Section's iron gates. Professor Severus Snape had just completed a little Potions research of his own.