Search:

SIYE Time:2:32 on 29th March 2024
SIYE Login: no


Don't Drink The Water!
By Spenser Hemmingway

- Text Size +

Category: Post-OotP, Alternate Universe, Muggle Field Trip Challenge (2007-2)
Characters:All, All, All
Genres: Action/Adventure, Comedy, Humor
Warnings: None
Story is Complete
Rating: PG
Reviews: 25
Summary: ** Winner of Most Adventurous in the Muggle Field Trip Challenge **
What an incredible idea they've come up with! Baby-sit a few Muggle Studies students, and get a nice vacation in Vienna, Austria. What could possibly go wrong? All they have to do is ensure the change machines don't break down, and they'll all have a marvelous time. Written for the Muggle Field Trip 2007 Challenge.
Hitcount: Story Total: 13631; Chapter Total: 4176





Author's Notes:
A/N: For those of you who have never met my original character Spenser Hemmingway, I introduced him as an American exchange student who joins Harry, Ginny and friends at Hogwarts his seventh year. He was created to provide an outsider's perspective, explain my American writing style, and to blame when the coffee pot is empty. Eric B.




ChapterPrinter
StoryPrinter


Chapter The First: Such A Deal I Have For You!


“Why buy good luggage? You only use it when you travel.”–Yogi Berra



“Who the blazes is Great Uncle Waldo Dad? Ouch! That smarts Madame Pomfrey!”

“Yes, it does, and it will continue to smart, as you say, if you do not hold still. This shoulder gash is especially nasty, and these stitches are absolutely required to hold the wound closed. Magic can only do so much. Honestly young man…I only wish I knew why Professor McGonagall allows you to leave the school grounds this way.”

“It was only a short fieldtrip to observe some of the local wildlife ma’am,” Harry tried to explain. He obviously couldn’t reveal how he, Ron, and the rest of us had been to southern Wales in search of another Horcrux…another unsuccessful hunt in fact.

“We told you. I had a mishap at one of the Hogsmeade farms. I was accidentally struck with a plowing spell,” Ron tried to explain again.

“This was not a plowing spell. Don’t you think that I know a slashing bolt wound when I see one. Now will you please…”

“Pompy, may I have a word with you outside please? Good afternoon Arthur. I will be back in a minute. Will someone please wake Mr. Hemmingway? This is not a dormitory!”

“I’m not asleep Headmistress. I’m recovering from my own injury.”

“It is my understanding that you merely sprained your right index finger,” she countered.

“Ah, but I’m a great writer. I need a sound hand when I pick up a quill to… Stop snickering Hermione!” I opened one eye to see her standing there with at least as an incredulous look as Professor McGonagall’s. Beside them were Ginny with an arm in a sling and Luna with a bandage over a good portion of her head. I jumped off the bed, instantly embarrassed at the sight of them, and my mind racing to help us out with a better excuse. Harry beat me to it.

“Madame Pomfrey. We were on the far edge of the village’s forested area. I’m not sure whose farm it was. We were trying to make our way through some overgrown brush, and we didn’t know that the farmer was in the process of clearing it.”

“He must have been using a slashing spell much like a scythe–-clearing the land for cultivation,” Ginny added.

“We were in pursuit of a horned albino water-badger. They are very rare. We thought that Mr. Hagrid would…” Luna’s voice trailed off, and Ginny and I each grabbed an arm to steer her to the bed I had vacated. Now I really felt bad. I did see a flicker of doubt in Madame Pomfrey’s eyes however, and that was enough for the professor.

“Pompy…I really must speak with you for a moment,” she repeated. Nodding to all of us, they retreated just out of earshot for McGonagall to once again cover for us. Of everyone at the school, only she had been heir to Professor Dumbledore’s secret about the Horcruxes. In Luna and my own case, it had been a fortunate accident learning about them. Well, looking at my hurt friend sitting there on the bed, fortunate might not have been the best word at the moment.

“Now Dad, once again, who is Great Uncle Waldo?” Ginny asked for her brother…for all of us.

Arthur Weasley had remained silent during the earlier exchange; his expression remained mute about how much he knew, and what he suspected of our little outing. Harry and one or more of us had left the school several times over the school year in search of the Dark artifacts. It had been a condition for Harry, Ron, and Hermione’s returning to Hogwarts at all that year.

“You were attacked again weren’t you Ron…all of you?” he finally asked, without looking at his children, and, I would imagine, already knowing the answer. “I can see it in your faces. You’re fighting the war in some way that you won’t talk about. Your faces are drawn and tired. Your eyes are all dark; they’ve seen too much. Ron, Ginny…Harry, you are all killing yourselves and… No, I won’t ask any more…yet. You’ve earned that much.” The man took a deep breath before continuing.

“Ron, your uncle is a very distant relative who recently contacted us with an unusual offer–-a timely one as well for all of you.”

“How distant Dad?” Ginny asked.

“Ah, he is, in point of fact, your great, great, great uncle and he is a hundred and five years of age. Yes, I am serious Mr. Hemmingway. Has anyone ever mentioned the way your mouth props open when you are surprised? As I was saying, Waldo’s mother was actually the last Weasley girl born into our family before Ginny. I believe that she is currently running a fishing charter business and waterskiing school out of a port in Madagascar. You are doing it again young Spenser; she’s only a hundred and twenty-four.”

“Yes…uhm, uh…what is this great offer Dad?” Ron managed to get out. His face clearly matched my own at the moment.

“Uncle Waldo has always been a bit of an entrepreneur; I’ve often wondered if that was where George and Fred inherited the talent. Of course, in Waldo’s case, it can hardly be called that. The closest he has come to a successful endeavor was when he sold fresh-squeezed lemonade and life insurance to the British troops as they were coming ashore on D-Day. A tricky business that was.

“Anyway, Uncle Waldo has invited a number of Hogwarts students for a long weekend at a new resort in which he has invested rather heavily. It’s near Vienna, Austria supposedly.”

“You can’t be serious Mr. Weasley. It would be far too dangerous,” Harry pointed out in an exasperated tone. He was clearly struggling to remain civil, and under the circumstances we couldn’t blame him. Every time one or more of us left Hogwarts, we came back to test Madame Pomfrey’s patience, and deplete her medical stores.

“Harry, Harry…no one is more aware of the situation out there than my associates and I are.” We knew that he was referring to the Order of the Phoenix. “The castle resort and adjoining village are afforded the strictest of security measures. Kingsley himself has supposedly personally inspected it. With that said, I will point out that the establishment is entirely…completely Muggle.”

“What?” we said in unison. They wanted us to spend a weekend without magic at a Muggle tourist resort?

“We would like you to spend a weekend without magic at a Muggle tourist resort.”

“Huh? I mean, why? We’re not anywhere near a school break,” I stammered out. I finished packing a head-pack with ice and handed it to Luna who nodded her thanks.

“Exactly! Professor Marvel has repeatedly asked for such an opportunity,” McGonagall explained, returning to our group and displaying evident pleasure at the prospect of our participating. “His Muggle Studies N.E.W.T. students require this exact exercise, and, if I may say so, all of you could use a break from…your work. I share your concerns about security Mr. Potter, but I also share Arthur’s absolute faith in Kingsley’s judgment.”

“Professor, none of us is currently enrolled in Muggle Studies,” Hermione pointed out. She had to say it, but we already knew what the professor’s answer would be.

“Precisely Miss Granger; you, Harry, and Mr. Hemmingway were all raised among Muggles. You would be invaluable as teaching assistants.”

“Ginny and Ron’s having accompanied you into the Muggle world in the past, even for such a short duration, would make them useful as well. Conversely, it would continue their education in that area,” Mr. Weasley added. “I am extraordinarily envious of all of you, especially in regard to the Muggle airplane in which you will be riding.”

“Airplane? Oh, no…not again!” Hermione squeaked. She was suddenly white, and Ron moved to support her. Harry and Ginny had both mentioned her fear of flying, but this was the first time I had seen it first-hand.

“Why yes, of course Hermione. I’m sure that it will be an outstanding adventure. Uncle Waldo will be providing a private plane and pilot for your convenience. I know that there are easier and faster means of travel, but there will be Muggles joining you in London, and it is a part of the learning experience.” For once in her life, Hermione appeared willing to pass on a lesson. “I just wish that I knew what kept them up in the sky.”

“Moving air sir.” Harry motioned for Arthur Weasley to approach him at the table, where he had laid a piece of paper. He proceeded to fold and refold it, with the older man following every move with fascination. After several seconds, Harry had produced a paper airplane, which with a flick of his hand, he sent sailing the length of the infirmary. If Harry had transformed it into a dragon, Mr. Weasley would not have been as delighted.

As we watched the demonstration, I went back to Luna and sat beside her on the bed there. She definitely did not look good. What I could see under the bandages was black-and-blue and very puffy. She also had a strange look in her eyes that I didn’t recognize.

“Hey Luna, that was a great catch with your comment about horned water-badgers. Hagrid was talking about them just yesterday,” I whispered. “I don’t think that Professor McGonagall would have believe it if you had suggested a Crumple-Horned Snorkack.”

“There is no such thing as a Crumple-Horned Snorkack.” Someone threw a switch. The room was suddenly as quiet as the New York Yankees’ locker room after a loss to the Montreal Expos. Had that been Luna who said that?

“Did you just…?” No, I knew she had. “Okay Luna…do you know where you are right now?” I asked.

“Naturally; I’m at Hogwarts. I really do need to be going. Madame Pince just received a new volume on the metaphysical analysis of quadratic factoring in practical situations involving left-handed Bolivian ogres. I do feel that I could produce an excellent paper on the subject for Professor Flitwick by tomorrow. I am so far behind on my studies! How will I ever be ready for examinations in time?”

“Crikey! She’s turned into Hermione!” Ron almost shouted. Ginny swatted him before Harry could reach him.

“Luna…listen carefully. Do you recognize me?”

“Of course, I do. You’re Spenser. You’re the American exchange student who writes those wonderful stories.”

“Now we know she must have a serious head injury if she believes that,” Hermione said, but instantly regretted it when everyone glared at her (even if she might have been right).

“You know that I have the most serious crush on you.”

“What? No, you don’t. You mean Neville. Madame Pomfrey…she’s hallucinating!”

“Out! Out…all of you! Minerva, would you please take your business elsewhere so that I may treat this young lady.” The Healer appeared as worried as she did upset with us.

“Speaking of business; could someone please bring me today’s financial journal? I understand that they are about to announce the predictions for next year’s cauldron futures. I wonder if it is too late to invest in this quarter’s municipal bond offerings.”

“Oh no…now she believes that she’s a Gringotts goblin,” Ginny whispered as we left the infirmary.


*****



We had two days to prepare for the trip, and, apart from our normal studies, it was evenly divided between preparing our own wardrobes, and trying to help the other students with theirs. Professor Marvel really was a wonderful man, and one of the most eloquent speakers I had ever encountered, but, as a Muggle Studies teacher, he was one notch up from hopeless.

He had selected fifteen seventh-years for the trip (giving us a three to one ratio to help them), and when we met for the indoctrination, he was trying to explain to them that a waffle-maker was actually used for pressing handkerchiefs. His classroom was the only place in Hogwarts where Muggle devices would work, and then only during certain short time periods. In regard to everyone’s safety, this was probably a good thing. I did notice that when he blew his nose, the once-white cloth now had lots of small squares on it.

Mr. Weasley stayed on during those days, and then accompanied us on the train back to London. We could tell he was completely enthralled with the entire project, and, if it weren’t for the war, he would certainly have come with us. It might have been fun at that, seeing him exposed to Muggle life that way. One thing was certain; he was completely at ease with Harry and Ginny being together as long as they didn’t advertise the fact in front of Voldemort’s spies, and their kisses didn’t last longer than twenty minutes.

One sensitive moment arose when Arthur Weasley explained how the Ministry was quietly funding the trip, provided that an article could be written about it when we safely returned. Feel-good stories always could be useful to help bolster public confidence they reasoned. The only out-of-pocket expense that the students would encounter would be our personal spending money.

“I have it handled,” Harry told him as he pulled a wad of Euros the size of a grapefruit from his backpack. I knew that Harry was extremely wealthy, and Hermione’s and my families were both financially comfortable as well. The Weasleys were not however, and their sudden embarrassment showed. “Mr. Weasley…I should have said we have in handled. We won that purse from the race, with the broom we all built. When the courier brings our winnings, everyone can reimburse me from their share.”

Harry defused the tension, elicited relieved looks from all three, and obtained a nineteen minute, fifty-seven second kiss from Ginny. Poor Mr. Weasley–-he must have been coming down with a cold the way he kept clearing his throat that way.

The airport was actually a private field about an hour south of London. After helping us transfer our bags to a commuter train, Mr. Weasley said his goodbyes, and offered us one final warning about watching our backs. He promised to owl us twice daily with updates on Luna’s condition, but added that so far the worst symptom was when she asked for the British equivalent to The Wall Street Journal.

At the station, we finally got a look at the attire the professor and the N.E.W.T. students had donned on the Hogwarts Express. It was…certainly Muggle.

“You have got to be kidding me mate!” Ron said for all of us.

“Harry, didn’t I see something like this on an episode of The Benny Hill Show once?” Hermione asked in all seriousness.

“I don’t think that Benny would have showed his face in front of a camera with a cast dressed this way,” Harry said. His expression matched the rest of ours at the moment.

There before us were the most comically stereotypical Muggle outfits that you could imagine. The professor and two students beside him were wearing Bermuda shorts, Hawaiian shirts that were so loud you could hear them in New Zealand, straw hats with plastic fruit, and sandals with argyle socks. Three others were dressed like cowboys, but, by that, I don’t mean John Wayne–-more like Howdy Doody or a five-year-old at Halloween. One student had a top hat and tails, but still wore tennis shoes; three more wore full-length raccoon skin coats and propeller beanies; and two had on white polyester leisure suits, gold chains, and Elvis wigs. All four girls had leopard skin pants, leather jackets, curlers in their hair, and rhinestone encrusted sunglasses. I don’t know how any of them could walk in those spike-heel shoes.

“Harry, I know we talked to all of them about this,” Ginny quietly pointed out, still too much in shock to laugh yet.

“Professor Marvel must have made them change. They are doing this for a grade after all,” he whispered back. “Maybe we can help them when we arrive in Austria.”

“I don’t know Harry. Those pants the girls are wearing are kind of… Ouch! Congratulations Hermione. You made it all the way to noon before you hit me for the first time today.” Ron gave her a quick kiss however to press the point that he had been joking. Both Harry and he wore blinders where other girls were concerned.


*****



At the airfield, we got our first look at both our fellow travelers and what was supposed to pass as our air transport to Vienna. The other groups were more or less our age, and they numbered about thirty. The way they congregated, it was clear that they came from two separate schools. Mr. Weasley had mentioned that Muggle academies had been approached with the offer as well. Naturally, when they saw the Muggle Studies students, they all split a gut laughing. Harry, Ron, and the professor all had to physically hold back students who produced wands then, but we did make our point about following our advice in the future. Even Professor Marvel conceded the point.

Somehow, that bundle of aeronautic junk made it down the runway and into the air. Somehow, a half-dozen of us were able to tie Hermione into her seat without losing any body parts in the struggle. Ginny explained that she had indeed flown before and had even taken rudimentary flying lessons to become more comfortable with airplanes. On the other hand, comparing what we were on to a jet liner was like putting a garbage truck side-by-side with a Rolls Royce.

After four hours, and three shots of gin that we slipped into her apple juice, she did begin to calm down a bit. It was at this point where we were able to discretely stem the bleeding on Ron’s arm where she had been grabbing him, and Ginny began to get feeling back in the hand she had offered. It was really just too bad that the stupid engine picked that moment to fall off.

“Stewardess! Stewardess…I think that something is wrong!” the Muggle girl just ahead of us called out.

“Coffee, tea, or milk?”

“No…you don’t understand! We have an emergency here,” her companion shouted at the brainless attendant.

“Our meal choices today are chicken cordon bleu or beef Wellington.”

“She’s right Miss! It is an emergency!” Harry told her, finally entering into the conversation.

“Please place your seats in an upright position while you are dining.”

“One of the bloody engines just fell off this wing!” Ron added. The woman just continued to stand there with a blank stare and a ridiculous smile that hurt to watch for too long.

“Our in-flight movie this evening will be Airplane, starring Robert…”

“Great choice!” I yelled at her.

“Come on! We need to go ensure that the pilot can handle this. With our luck, this flight doesn’t even have one.” Harry grabbed my arm and pulled me forward. A quick glance at Hermione showed me a girl with a death grip on both Weasleys, eyes about to shoot out, and an incredible amount of drool running down her chin.

At the cabin door, three things surprised both Harry and me. These were the fact that it was propped open with an old milk can, that there was no copilot, and that the captain had a mostly empty bottle of Jack Daniels whiskey in his hand.

“Actually Harry…we might have been better off the way you put it, with no pilot at all.” Looking out the cockpit, far off in front of us, we received surprise number four.

“Spenser…I don’t know about what you have in America, but in Europe we generally don’t want to be seeing goats grazing up in the clouds directly where we are flying.”
Reviews 25
ChapterPrinter
StoryPrinter




../back
‘! Go To Top ‘!

Sink Into Your Eyes is hosted by Grey Media Internet Services. HARRY POTTER, characters, names and related characters are trademarks of Warner Bros. TM & © 2001-2006. Harry Potter Publishing Rights © J.K.R. Note the opinions on this site are those made by the owners. All stories(fanfiction) are owned by the author and are subject to copyright law under transformative use. Authors on this site take no compensation for their works. This site © 2003-2006 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Special thanks to: Aredhel, Kaz, Michelle, and Jeco for all the hard work on SIYE 1.0 and to Marta for the wonderful artwork.
Featured Artwork © 2003-2006 by Yethro.
Design and code © 2006 by SteveD3(AdminQ)
Additional coding © 2008 by melkior and Bear