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SIYE Time:13:28 on 28th March 2024
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Weasley Anger, Friendly Ignorance, Potter Wisdom
By st122

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Category: Night Time Challenge (2010-6), Night Time Challenge (2010-6)
Characters:Harry/Ginny
Genres: Comedy
Warnings: Mild Sexual Situations
Story is Complete
Rating: PG-13
Reviews: 12
Summary: When arguments begin, friends help, but what does Potter Wisdom have to say.
Hitcount: Story Total: 5729



Disclaimer: Harry Potter Publishing Rights © J.K.R. Note the opinions in this story are my own and in no way represent the owners of this site. This story subject to copyright law under transformative use. No compensation is made for this work.



Author's Notes:
This is my little entry for this months challenge. After writing so much heavy stuff, I thought I'd try my hand at some comedy. Hope you enjoy. I made some changes, and added a few bonus phrases.




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A normally bubbly, energetic, lively and mischievous but now extremely angry Ginny Weasley sat on a couch in the Gryffindor Common room. She sat with balled fists. Sparks flew from her eyes, perhaps those were only reflections from the fire, but there were burning embers within the brown. Two youngish looking boys, probably first or second years, went pale upon entering the room. One gulped and dropped his bag, spilling books across the floor. The kid nearly cried when his favourite copy of a novel about a vampire falling for a Muggle girl living with her father in a small town fell onto the ground. Then a poor schoolgirl fainted upon passing the red haired witch, who by this time glowed orange, though this again could be attributed to the close proximity of the flames.

An ignorant pupil might dare to meander towards the infuriated Ginny to ask what had her all in a knot. A fool, such as befell Dean Thomas, might try to touch the said bundle of emotions sitting on the couch. Fear not people, Madame Pomfrey, with extraordinary skill and daring freed the poor bloke from the box into which he had been squashed into headfirst with feat dangling out. Quick wand work and a kiss on the cheek had Dean running from the Infirmary — lipstick and all with a blush to boot. It is now safe to assume Mr Thomas would keep his distance from not one but two witches within the walls of Hogwarts.

Back to the incurable anger of a Weasley woman sitting on a couch by a fire, with one male Gryffindor student less to worry about. Now a wise man, or woman for that matter, like the famous trio. In case you lived in a cave for the past decade or two, the first member of the trio is Harry Potter, the boyfriend of Miss I-Am-Very-Angry and the Boy-Who-Lived. No, he is not the boyfriend of the Boy-Who-Lived he is the Boy-Who-Lived, really people! Hermione Granger the second member or perhaps the third since she joined the duo after crying about the duo, she is a perpetual learning machine by the way. Last and certainly least came Ron Weasley, who is the second in the duo who came before the trio but now is the third or second of the three. If that made sense then there is little hope left for you. He is also the brother of the volatile Weasley seated by the fire.

Now these fine specimens of wisdom sat high above the school, hidden under layers of boxes and blankets. You might ask why, and if you do not know the answer, it is advised you reread the above few paragraphs for a hint. Harry sat to Hermione’s left and Ron to her right, she was the brains and leader after all, centre spot always went to her. This day, however, the middle provided the most security for important assets, namely her person — which contained a lot of valuable knowledge in her modest opinion.

Ron sat motionless, mouth chattering and wide-eyed. Pale could barely describe the poor soul, a ghost or two or three invited him over for lunch. They insisted he had moved along to the next great adventure, but like them got lost on the way to the gate. Ron, nearer to death by the experience, had to eat a sandwich to prove his um... liveliness.

Harry rocked back and forth. Glasses lay shattered, not there, of course not. No, they lay somewhere in the castle. When running from a half-crazed woman, who you supposedly loved, there was little time to think about trivial things like lost or broken spectacles. Oh, the multicoloured beams of light hitting the floor beside them might have added to the frenzied flight.

Hermione sat calmly. A book, like the poor million others before it, lay propped onto her lap — mind you it was a lap born to have books on it. Of course, she thought about important things at times like these — potions. Her heart, at least, lay in the right place as the heading on the page she read clearly stated ‘Potion For Blind Potters Who Had A Run In With A Red Haired Witch Which Resulted In A Broken Or Lost Pair Of Specatacles’.

She read carefully. Like she always did ensuring she remembered every nuance of every word and letter and comma and space and... well you get the idea.

In the more than likely event that a Potter finds himself walking into walls because of a sudden loss of eyesight due to his glasses being broken by a normal, yet volatile, reaction by a loved one with red hair then this is the potion you should be brewing.

Past statistical studies have proven, convincingly, that the above event is 99.99% likely. Mind you, this is not a typo! A Potter married to, or thinking of marrying, a red haired witch is ONE HUNDRED PERCENT likely to get his glasses broken, pulverised, melted, stolen or transfigured during fits of unexplainable yet predictable bouts of anger. That is if he did not lose them while running for his life while the surrounding area is being redecorated by creative and ingenious spells (These spells cannot be replicated by nosy, brainy friends of the Potter no matter how hard they try).

It is therefore advised, by myself and a large number of male Potters, a comprehensive list of which can be found on pages 120 — 135, to drink the following potion. Please visit my magicsite to update the list with your details if this potion has proven to be useful in any way.

Now, the potion, what does it do? Basically it will remove the need for the Potter to wear glasses. Therefore, the poor man will no longer need to walk into walls each time there is a slight disagreement with the red haired woman. So without further long-winded stories, please turn to page 315 where further page numbers are provided to give direction to the relevant page somewhere within the confines of this book. Happy hunting.

By the way, know-it-all friends should never brew this potion. This has proven to be, shall we say, inadvisable.


Hermione sniffed loudly at the last line. She slammed the book closed, sending dust flying from the ancient tome filled with Potter wisdom. She stood, resulting in the book being removed from the perfect stand, which had been her lap, and slipped out from among her friends too leave.

Harry still rocked back and forth. A bruise had formed on his forehead, an unfortunate side effect of running blindly head first into a wall while screaming for mercy. Ron, still stricken, said nothing. His frightened eyes followed her retreating form.

“Mate,” Ron managed to say when they were alone.

“Yeah,” Harry replied. Well, it sounded like a ‘yeah’ but it might have been a groan. Ron was not sure.

“You alive there?”

“No.”

“That’s a relief. Do you think Ginny could find you in the realm of the dead?”

“No!” Harry cried out in horror. “Please Ron, let me at least think of death as my final resting place.”

“Sorry. You’ll have your mum there to help at least.”

Even though not physically possible, Harry’s eyes went wider. His voice filled with even more horror. “Ron! She’s a red haired witch too! And she loves me!”

“Crickey, Harry,” Ron sighed. “May I make a comment.”

“No!”

“You should have talked to Voldemort about Horcruxes, there might have been something in it for you.”

“That would only give them two souls to torture.” Harry cried out, his head falling into his hands. “At least!”

“I suppose,” Ron groaned, feeling his friend's pain. Well the pain might have to do with the fist that had just slammed into his shoulder. The source of the agony was debatable. “Mate.”

“What now, Ron? Can’t you leave a doomed man in peace?”

“I am glad I am not you.”

“Thanks, that makes me feel much better.”

“No problem, what are friends for if not to help.”

Time moved, slowly, not that time could move slower than normal, but to the two men sitting beneath a blanket far away from an angry witch it did feel so. Fortunately for Harry, Ron’s words of wisdom had ceased.

Hermione returned, throwing their covering away, like the prodigal son, um... daughter, no... sorry know-it-all friend, looking triumphant.

“What amazingly wonderful accomplishment deemed impossible by all have you achieved on this horrifying day, Hermione?” Harry asked flatly.

“I have merely brewed a potion someone said was impossible to concoct!” She said haughtily.

Harry's head dropped, a faint whisper escaped his lips, "With all the omens favorable. We are therefore doomed."

“Blimey, another one,” Ron whispered to Harry. “Please, Harry,” the red haired brother of his friend's girlfriend begged. Shaking the raven haired boy from his trance. “Don’t let her make me drink it.”

“Does she have something with her?” Harry asked alarmed. His owned whispered words taunting him.

Ron eased a bit. “By the way she is staring at you like a guinea pig, I fear you are the one who will be suffering today.”

“How can you tell?”

“There is a slight twinkle of lust in her eyes when she looks at you. Not the lust when she looks at me... umm I mean, uh, forget I said that.” Ron blushed a deep crimson. There was little time for Harry to laugh or remember his friend's words. Hermione moved closer. “And the book she had been reading was your Potter book.” Harry gulped audibly. “Good luck mate.” Ron said patting Harry on the back.

“I don’t want to die!” Harry cried and bolted for the exit. Missing it, he collided with the wall and fell onto his back. When his eyes opened again Hermione stood holding his mouth open. The phial she held in her hand was half-empty. His stomach felt warm and his mouth tasted bitter.

“Hermione!” Harry cried out, running away again. This time he hit the opposite wall. The result of the third collision of the day, because of running away from a woman, was an unconscious Harry lying on the floor.

Ron was first to speak. “Madame Pomfrey will have a tough time fixing those bruises.”

“It didn’t work,” Hermione moaned dejectedly.

“It’s alright,” Ron replied moving to stand next to Hermione. “Look on the bright side, Harry’s not dead.”

“But his eyesight should have been healed.”

Ron nodded wisely. “Three run-ins with a wall might leave a man cross eyed.”

Hermione looked at the book lying on the floor next to the knocked out relative of the author and dropped the phial, the book lay open at the warnings section

“Um... Hermione,” Ron began. “Perhaps we should really get the bugger to Madame Pomfrey. That third bump is starting to look like a second head.”

And so the three wise ones, who dared not speak to the girlfriend of the unconscious one because of what happened, lifted the lifeless boy and began to drag him towards the room where miracles are sometimes performed. Fortunately for Harry, there were no kisses involved with the healing.

Forgotten by the three, Ginny Weasley slowly boiled while waiting for their return. By late afternoon the fire in the hearth could no longer compete with the heat coming from her and so it asked her leave. Even her red hair proved a better flame. She complied, not to comfort the fireplace, but to satisfy her own desires.

Voices wailed, and screams echoed down the long corridors, as she walked. She had yet to meet a student. Approaching the Headmaster’s office the stone gargoyles closed ranks and the faint clicking of a lock reached her ears. She glared at the office. “I only want Potter!” She growled to the bolted door.

“Yes... of course Miss Weasley,” a trembling voice of an old grey haired man replied. “I think I saw them go up to the Astronomy Tower.” The high pitched voice answered. She made no reply, instead the walking heat wave of anger continued down the corridor.

Reaching the Tower, she noticed the recently moved pile of boxes and blankets. She scowled fiercely. Just before turning, her intense brown eyes landed on a phial and book lying on the floor. She took the phial, the glass cool against her warm moist skin. With her other hand she retrieved the ancient tome of Potter wisdom and read.

This potion should never be taken by a red haired woman, who is in love with a Potter. If the urge overcomes said witch then she should at least wait until any residual anger, frustration or desire for revenge against the Potter has been resolved. Under no circumstances should this potion be taken by a Weasley, and heaven forbid she be named Ginny, the youngest of seven and the only daughter.

Of course, Ginny was not really her name, she was Ginevra. She was also not a Weasley, as she would be a Potter soon. She felt neither anger nor had any desire to seek revenge, she just wanted justice. If she did not comply with those then the others did not matter. And so she took the phial and drank the potion just as the last vestiges of light left for the night.

Her eyes opened to a blazing, yet surprisingly cool sun. Tired eyes blinked at the light. The heat within the girl had cooled to be as warm as the cold sun. Unlike a moment before, she appeared calm and in control. Blinking numerous times again, Ginny left the Tower, book in hand.

The previous bundle of raw fury now walked serenely down the strangely abandoned corridors. The height of the sun meant classes should have started already. Red hair ducked into a classroom, only to find it abandoned. The calm girl shivered, replaced by a nervous Weasley. She continued down a passageway, something felt odd about the light around her.

With rapid strides, she reached Gryffindor Tower. The Fat Lady gave Ginny one look as she approached and opened wide. In fact, the portrait strained the hinges in order to gain distance between herself and the tidal wave of a woman approaching.

Ginny stepped inside. Like the classroom, the common room seemed abandoned. The room was unnaturally light. Her unease grew as the sound of snoring students filtered down to her. Being a witch, she had forgotten all about the watch her boyfriend had given her after they spent a wonderful summer together in a world free of a madman trying to kill Harry. Who was, is and hopefully will remain as her boyfriend, in case you were as mystified as I am.

A mischievous Ginny replaced the nervous Weasley when the nervous one saw the time. It was three in the morning. The world should be dark. The full moon should be shining. Her eyes would’ve sparkled had a normal witch or wizard been there to witness the sight. Though, the twinkle could have come from the millions of stars shining through the window. Her wand slipped out of her pocket and rested comfortably in her hand. She was going to enjoy herself tonight. A group of three needed to be taught a lesson.

With silent steps, she navigated her way up to the Head Girl's room. She faced a locked door. This did not faze the girl who was up to no good as passwords were rarely needed when she used her special abilities. One small glare combined with an open display of her wand and the poor portrait wilted before her eyes. “Thank you,” she mouthed as the door to the Head Girl’s apartment swung open.

She froze. Loud snores reverberated around the room. For an instant Ginny could not believe the fine woman who knew-it-all could make such a noise before realisation dawned on her. The one who could see in the dark giggled. Ron was spending the night with the girlfriend that was not his girlfriend, but who everyone knew to be his girlfriend.

Tiptoeing around the room Ginny hid herself in the lightest, which was no doubt the darkest, part of the room and sent a mild tickling jinx at Hermione.

“Ron,” a sleepy voice complained. The snoring died down.

“H...” Was as far as he got before sleep took him again.

Flicking her wand she began to pull the covers away. A long smooth shapely leg was revealed first. Ginny pouted, she wanted... she coughed and sputtered as another long shapely leg came into few. The second was definitely Hermione’s. That made the first... She closed her eyes and dug her knuckles into her sockets. A bystander would be safe in assuming that the youngest Weasley of seven had just been mentally scarred for a long time, if not for life.

Willing her eyes open, she methodically began to remove the covers again. When the sheets reached the Hermione’s upper thigh without revealing any clothing, she paused. A soft whistle escaped her lips. This was going to be fun, the thought was written across her entire face. Well the words she whispered out loud said the same, but facial expressions went along way in confirming her mutterings. I mean who would believe what a mad Weasley said especially if she told you she could see in the dark.

Partialyl uncovered, Hermione woke with a yelp. Jumping to her feet, she clutched the sheets to her chest. Ron went tumbling to the floor. Fortunately for the sister in the room, he wore a pair of boxers, pink boxers with little bunnies on them. The midnight walking prankster grimaced. Pink was a horrible colour, it clashed terribly with his red hair.

“Ron! Someone’s in the room,” she spoke. Ginny caught her eye movements, an instant later she summoned their wands to her.

“You sure?” Questioned Ron, fumbling about in the dark. His hand working through a large pile of clothes on the floor. “Hermione, where’s my wand?”

“Your wand! I can’t find mine,” the bushy haired girl replied irritably.

Ginny placed a hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter. Flicking her wand the bed tilted to the side. Hermione, who was standing on top, went soaring through the air only to land on the thoroughly confused and still wand searching Ron. Sheets went flying covering the two, who now lay tangled together on a large pile of clothes. Hermione’s pile of undergarments might not have been so big — it was rather tiny in fact.

The bushy haired girl was first to make demands. “Get off me!”

“You landed on me!” he shouted back.

“I did nothing of the sort.”

“Then why am I lying on the floor with you on top of me?”

“You slipped and dragged me down with you,” came the haughty reply of the know-it-all.

“Of course, how stupid of me not to have noticed that I slipped and pulled you to the floor with me while you were standing on top of the bed ten feet away from me.” He answered sarcastically. “Forgive me for missing the obvious.”

“Agh... never mind. There are other concerns.”

“Like what!”

“Shut up, Ron! There is someone else in the room!” The resounding sound of a smack echoed around the room.

“Blimey, you think it’s Dumbledore?” Ron asked. “Where’s my shirt... pants... what’s mum going to say?” The two moved about beneath the sheet covering them.

“Ouch! That’s my hair!”

“Do you think whoever is here saw me?” Ron asked.

“No, the person would never have seen you lying on the bed and fall to the floor. Nor would they at this very moment hear your voice!”

“Thanks, I was getting a bit worried for a moment.”

Another slap resounded from beneath the sheets. A mass of bushy brown hair peaked out from under the cover. Hermione’s head swivelled about. Her gaze passed over the nearly hysterical Ginny, who was doing a valiant job of not laughing out loud, before moving on.

When the two emerged, Ginny’s silent laughter died down. They were both dressed and looked respectable. She had her laugh at them, and now she would have years worth of blackmail material against the pair. The thought made her giddy with excitement.

The couple that was not a couple argued heatedly about who was to blame as Ginny silently made her way out of the room. The real fun for the evening was about to begin.

Ginny snuck into the Head Boy’s room, still on a high from ruining her brother and his girlfriend's evening.

Surprisingly, Harry’s bed was empty. The now very satisfied freckled faced girl settled down in a dark corner where there was an unoccupied chair. The raven haired boy, who she called her boyfriend, was probably sneaking about the castle again. Perhaps getting food from the house elves. She did not mind, the rest of the morning lay ahead of her in order to exact revenge.

Not seeking revenge, she clarified to herself, but justice for Harry’s unacceptable behaviour. She meticulously plotted his demise with evil precision. A bucket of water above the bed came first. Old but always fun to watch. A conjured bag of whitish powder. “Glitter,” she laughed and instantly the powder turned into vibrant pink pixie dust. She dipped her finger in, and due to the extreme brightness of the dark room, she watched her finger sparkle.

She needed more, water and glitter had not even begun to begin payback. “No,” she corrected her thoughts. “Not payback, justice.” There was naturally a distinct difference, of course only she knew what the natural difference was.

The hour passed with the red haired, freckled faced, girlfriend of the Boy-Who-Lived working in the darkness setting up contraptions to execute judgement — not revenge, remember this is a very important point to her.

Finally, with an exhausted sigh she sank back down into the chair. Now all that needed to be done was to wait for Harry’s return to bed. She cursed those fine dinners the house elves reserved for Harry, especially the one that kept him out of bed all night.

Ginevra was just getting comfortable when with a sudden jerk she found herself floating upside down. Then slowly, ever so slowly she glided towards the bed. “H...” She began to shout, but something got stuffed into her mouth — the banana she had placed on the floor for Harry to slip on. She fought valiantly, bravely, courageously against the air wrapping around her — it was no use. Her wand still lay on the seat where she had sat.

Her brown eyes, framed by a youthful face used to laughing, looked fearfully ahead. Her gaze locked onto the bed before her. Harry’s bed, the one when touched would set off a gazillion pranks. Then unceremoniously she fell. An instant later all hell broke loose. In the perfect clarity of the darkness she saw her end.

The water came first, drenching her from head to toe in ice cold water. The solid chunks of ice bounced of her usually wavy, but now flat wet hair. The bed flipped, throwing her to the side, where she crashed against a trampoline, which in turn flung her across the room where she got caught in a web of sticky tape. Little balls of paint, compliments of Fred and George, bounced excitedly on the far side of the room. One, two, three bounces and they were off peppering the poor girl who had thought she had pulled one over Harry.

The wet red haired girl came free of the tape as she knew she would. Landing on a cushion she bounced back onto the bed. She scrambled, but it was too late. The wards, which had taken so long to create would’ve blocked her escape. The bucket full of conjured pixie dust tipped over, sprinkling the entire bed and every inch of the trapped one in glitter.

The room fell silent after Ginny managed to spit the banana out of her mouth. She stood motionless on the bed. Being wet, covered in paint and glitter it is safe to assume she did not look her best.

The silence was then filled with a deep rich laugh.

“Harry?” she asked. “Is that you? If it is show yourself right now!” Her foot stamped down on the mattress with each word.

“You know, Ginny,” the voice whispered. An unseen finger briefly touched her cheek. She jumped and whirled about. Arms went wide in search of the voice, which was definitely Harry’s.

“This isn’t funny anymore,” she called out loudly, still spinning around wildly.

The voice that was supposedly Harry’s chuckled. “I suppose some people will never learn to avoid warnings.” He laughed warmly and Ginny relaxed slightly.

“What warnings?” She asked.

“A book for male Potters, by male Potters has a number of built in... shall we say precautions.”

Ginny kept turning, she looked like she was treading water on the soft mattress where she still stood, soaked to the bone looking like a miserable wreck who had a run in with a clown who had bad taste.

“I hope Hermione was not injured too badly.” There was an unasked question there if you didn’t notice.

“No,” Ginny replied tentatively.

“Too bad, would’ve done her some good. Way to inquisitive that one... Ron?”

“He’ll live I suppose... Where are you?” Ginny asked

“Right here,” the voice replied and a hand brushed through her hair sending tingles of pleasure through her body. She jumped, turning to face where she knew the person who was her boyfriend to be. Nothing!

“Harry, show yourself.”

“Why? This is way too much fun.” A hand gently worked its way up her back beneath her shirt, which was surprisingly dry at the back. The hand felt warm and comfortable. She did not turn or flinch, only when the feeling disappeared did she twirl around.

"I don’t know if you’ve noticed yet, but you’re being rather creepy."

The voice laughed again. “Well then tell me your sorry and it will all go away.”

“Sorry.” She blurted out. Instantly the room went dark and a half blind Harry stood next to her fumbling about .

“Ginny!” He cried out. “You weren’t supposed to say the magic word yet. I was just beginning to have fun.”

“I’m allowed some fun as well.” She moved quickly and pounced on Harry sending him flying backwards onto the bed. They settled down and the one who had been angry who had cooled considerably was once again extremely hot. In fact, both of them were rather steamy, though her clothes were drying rather rapidly. Her eyes seemed to glow green through the rising mist, a reflection of her chosen one’s eyes, but this could have been due to the green alarm clock lying next to the bed. “Who says we can’t have fun together.” She laughed before capturing his lips with hers.

And so the only remaining Potter who once again like all the relatives before him consummated his undying love for a red haired witch who would no doubt drive him mad on numerous occasions for no reason other than her love for him.

The Potter book of wisdon lay open where Ginny had left it.

Remember dear friends a muffin is always worth fighting over. This holds especially true for Potters who thought they could nick their redheads muffin at lunch and not be touched by her fury.

A/N Hope you enjoyed, this was my first real effort at trying something comedic. Please read and review. Comments are always greatly appreciated.

The Twilight comment was to tease my bride to be who loves the books. Hope the little twist in Ginny's fate was unexpected and funny. By the way, thinking up pranks is just too difficult for my mind. :( So if it was all a bit tame, I humbly apologise.



Reviews 12
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