Magda, The Lilliputian Shrew

Hello again! Terribly sorry for the long delay, but this meddlesome thing called school has kept me from my pen, er, rather, my keyboard. But now, as the snow is falling in lovely drifts like the sparks from toasters caught in the rain, I find that I once again have the time to tide you over with another installment of Magda, The Lilliputian Shrew.

Enjoy.

But first, a brief recap. If you would care to remember, we started in the afternoon, where Hermione was having a positively lovely conversation with her therapist, a rosebush. Hermione had apparently lost her mind, but all wasn't clear. (If it is clear to you, then get some paint or tape or something to put over the clearness, because I have a story to get through and it's no fun if you already know everything. Nail polish and aluminum foil will also work.)

Then we went back to this morning, where this conversation takes place:

"Harry, Ron, are you two part of the light side or the dark side?"

Harry stared. Ron was gaping, his mouth hanging open, his oatmeal slowly dripping off his spoon.

Now that I've timewarped you all over chapter one, let's get down to business, shall we?

"Harry, Ron, are you two part of the light side or the dark side?"

Harry stared. Ron was gaping, his mouth hanging open, his oatmeal slowly dripping off his spoon.

"H-hermione? Have you forgotten something?" Harry choked, apparently the only boy with the gift of speech. Ron made a sqeaking noise and his head dropped into the oatmeal.

Bubbles formed.

A few minutes more.

A few more bubbles.

A few minutes more.

Then they stopped.

Harry reached over and grabbed Ron by the hair, and rescued him from an otherwise certain, and gooey, demise.

Ron spat up some oatmeal and lay his head on the table, sucking in air like the world was about to end.

"Forget?" Hermione smiled at Harry, though she seemed to be patronizing him just a bit. "Oh, silly Harry, when have I ever forgotten anything?"

"Well," Ron said, when he once again was sure that he wasn't going to the light at the end of the tunnel, "today you seem to have forgotten something very important."

Hermione cocked her head. "Huh?"

"Clothes, Hermione." Harry sighed. "Clothes."

"I'm wearing clothes!" Actually, Hermione technically was wearing clothes. Just not very many. In fact, she'd probably fit in very well on some rapper's music video. Harry could just imagine Busta Rhymes making her clap.

Hermione was wearing, from head to toe, a showercap, a pink lacy bra, matching panties, garters with fishnets and sparkly pink platform heels.

"Hermione" Harry sighed. "It's just that I'm worried that you aren't wearing enough clothes."

"I KNEW YOU WOULD SAY THAT!" Hermione screeched. "ALFONZO TOLD ME YOU WOULD SAY THAT! HE SAID YOU WEREN'T PART OF THE RED SIDE AND HE KNEW YOU WOULD SAY THAT!" Then, in an awed tone, "Alfonzo sees all."

"Who is Alfonzo?" Harry rubbed his temples. He could feel a headache coming on.

"This." Hermione dropped a bottle onto the table. "This is Alfonzo. He is God."

It was a regular enough ketchup bottle, more than 3/4 full. "ALFONZO" was written across it in a neat script, and the glass was so clean and polished that the ketchup shined out from within like a ruby.

"Thanks. I needed some of that." Ron reached for the bottle and was about to tip it into his oatmeal when Hermione's hand swooped down and snatched it.

"HOW DARE YOU DO THAT TO YOUR GOD! THIS IS AN ABOMINATION! AN ABOMINATION!" Hermione was shaking as she clutched the bottle to her chest. Tears were rolling down her cheeks.

"Hermione! Calm down!" Harry touched her arm lightly. She flinched away. "Take a deep breath and explain what is going on."

"I had a dream, last night, that I was a holy messenger of God. I was supposed to spread the good word and the religion he preached to me. When I woke, I was clutching Alfonzo, and I knew what I had to do. Harry, I am a high priestess of Alfonism! Convert and ye shall be saved from everlasting torment in the bowels of doom!" Hermione waved her arms about, with a fire in her eyes that Harry and Ron had never seen before and hoped never to see again. When she finished her ranting and raving, she stood there, breathing heavy, barely moving a muscle.

She didn't even flinch when Harry and Ron took her arm.

"Let's go see Madam Pomfrey, shall we?"

But there are some things even school nurses cannot cure.