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SIYE Time:11:42 on 19th March 2024
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Muggles Tomorrow-Comedy Tonight!
By Spenser Hemmingway

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Category: Alternate Universe, Prank Wars Challenge (2009-5), Prank Wars Challenge (2009-5)
Characters:Harry/Ginny, Hermione Granger, Luna Lovegood, Neville Longbottom, Ron Weasley
Genres: Action/Adventure, Comedy, Humor
Warnings: None
Story is Complete
Rating: PG-13
Reviews: 8
Summary: ** Winner of Best Overall and Most Elaborate in the Prank Wars Challenge **
The practical joke? Ah yes; as old as...a certain gentlemen, who is very protective of pretty four-year-olds. The fun thing is that anyone...anyone get into all manner of interesting situations with good pranks. Never expect to have things as easy as, or as difficult as they are expected to end. Mischief managed tomorrow--comedy tonight!
Hitcount: Story Total: 5338



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:
Ah yes, another alternative universe story. I make no apologies. I write Spenser stories about Harry and Ginny. Conan Doyle wrote Dr. Watson stories about Holmes, Agatha Cristie wrote Captain Hastings stories about Hercule Poirot, etc. Spenser is much more mischievous than any of them. Please enjoy this story at face value, have fun and beware of tzibdibs and Burundian kowtowing toadies! Thanks! Eric B.




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Muggles Tomorrow–Comedy Tonight!

By Spenser Hemmingway


“One doesn't have a sense of humor. It has you.”--Larry Gelbart




Once upon a time, not so very long ago, and in an alternative universe not so far away from the other side of your imagination, a young American exchange student came to Hogwarts to complete his seventh year of school. Being a fledgling writer, he enjoyed nothing better than to listen to, collect and jot down the anecdotes and little life experiences his classmates would share with him. One of the first came from a certain good friend and classmate named Ginny.


*****



“Are you all right Ginny? No, of course you’re not. It really is far too nice of a day for a pretty little four-year-old to be sitting on a park bench crying like this?”

Sniff, sniff. I’m sorry…I’m not supposed to speak to strangers, sir. How…how did you know my name?” Ginny asked though, ignoring her mother’s admonition as quickly as she had quoted it. “Do I know you?”

“We’ve never met Ginny, at least not like this, but we really are very good friends.”

The old gentleman had a kind and somewhat distinctive face Ginny decided. He seemed to be in his eighties, yet still rather fit. He wore thick glasses over pleasant blue eyes, a light green cardigan sweater, and a matching cap with a fish she thought was called a marlin embroidered on its face. His hands–Ginny had been taught how they are often a good indicator of someone’s character–were soft yet strong, as if he’d once done a great deal of work during his life. The man did seem vaguely familiar. Ginny, without being certain as to why, immediately knew she liked him. Her mother was just a few feet away, giving her reassuring glances every few seconds while she continued to scold her brothers for what they had done. Ginny felt that, in this one case, it would not hurt to talk with this particular stranger.

“Thank you, Ginny. Your mother is right you know, and you shouldn’t trust anyone you haven’t been introduced to as being good people.” Less than even a slight twitch of his wrist and a beautiful white handkerchief appeared. Accepting it, Ginny marveled at how he hadn’t used a wand, said a word, or seemed concerned with their being in a Muggle London park. “No Ginny, I’m not a Wizard, but I’ve known a great many good ones over time…a few bad as well. You didn’t appreciate the prank Fred and George pulled on you, did you?”

“No…no sir.” Ginny worked hard to keep from choking on her words, and she blinked several times to fight back the tears. The girl was too stubborn to let her brothers see her cry again. “Betsy is my favorite doll. They thought it was funny.”

“Hmm…well no one can really say I don’t have a sense of humor myself. Just look at giraffes or ostriches. Some of my more comical work, I think. I also thought we’d have some fun giving the twins the link that allows one of them to finish the other’s sentences. Of course, you’re right. This time it wasn’t amusing antics on their part. I usually don’t get personally involved…” The doll Ginny had been clutching was suddenly whole again and, in fact, like new. The girl jumped, and began to cry, but they were happy tears this time. “…but I’m in a mischievous mood this afternoon. I think they need a small lesson in manners.”

“I…I want to do it! I mean…can I help?”

The man slowly stood then, softly touched Ginny’s face, smiled at her and was rewarded with one in return. Pretty little girls were one of his best inventions.

“Let me handle it this time kiddo. I promise you’ll have a chance yourself someday. They won’t know what hit them. Trust me…like it says on the American money.”

Stepping back from the bench, the man began to glow just a bit, the girl thought, and then simply faded away. Ginny later appreciated his efforts–-although the twins didn’t–-when George and Fred awoke the next morning as bald as her doll had been after their prank and wearing flowered dresses identical to the Burping Betsy toy. Despite all magical efforts, they couldn’t restore the hair or shed the dresses for three full days.


*****



It was one of Ginny’s favorite stories, possibly because it was so impossible. Experience, however, has taught me the truth in Inigo Montoya’s advice from the Princess Bride regarding the definition of inconceivable: “I don’t think that word means what you think it does,” he told Vizzini. I learned the wisdom in that when I was offered the chance to record the sequel to Ginny’s tale a number of years later. First, a little traveling music if you please maestro!


*****



Something familiar,
Something peculiar,
Something for everyone:
A comedy tonight!

Something appealing,
Something appalling,
Something for everyone:
A comedy tonight!

Nothing with kings, nothing with crowns;
Bring on the lovers, liars and clowns!

Old situations,
New complications,
Nothing portentous or polite;
Tragedy tomorrow,
Comedy tonight!




“Well we didn’t think it was funny,” George admonished. “Mmm, good breadsticks these. You’ve been telling that story for more than twenty years little sister. I still don’t believe he could have been behind it. Bunch of nonsense if you ask me.”

“Aren’t you the master of nonsense?” Harry asked while working to keep a straight face at his brother-in-law’s consternation over the famous incident. “I mean you and Fred are.”

“When does he get out of St. Mungo’s?” Luna set the plates down on the Burrow’s kitchen table and stepped aside for Neville to deposit the forks and napkins beside them. “It really is unusual for someone to grow green fur all over their body that way. It must be extremely uncomfortable; I mean with the cauliflower fleas and tzibdibs that must be infesting it.”

“Wouldn’t know…at least most of us wouldn’t know,” Ron mumbled, popping a handful of peanuts into his mouth. Hermione swatted him, but immediately smiled at his reference to her own experience with the cat hair and Polyjuice Potion their second year at Hogwarts.

“Well…that sometimes comes of testing new products for the store. Actually, we had meant to slip it to our new sales clerk in his tea. Just as well. Had no idea it would work that way, and good employees are so hard to find. Isn’t that right Bubbles?”

“Oh yes Georgie-pooh! Hee, hee, hee,” the girl squealed.

Bubbles La Rue had been employed at Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes for just over two weeks and dating George for perhaps half that time. She was a silver blonde, at least that day (changing her hair color almost as often as Tonks would), prone to wearing too tight of dresses, and continually exhibiting a look of stupid bewilderment, which was perfectly appropriate in Bubble’s case. The girl couldn’t count a till or stock a shelf if you held a wand to her girdle. The general opinion was that she’d been hired simply because of her enormous…smile. George was only dating her to make Angelina jealous following yet another silly argument and yet another temporary breakup.

“What you’re saying is that the master pranksters have finally failed? I thought I’d never see the day,” Ginny told everyone in her best sarcastic voice. George just grinned at her. Something in the way he did caused tiny alarm bells to ring in the back of her mind.

“Happy Birthday Ginny.” George swept his hand backward over the cake and the candles lit for her. No one missed the fact that he hadn’t needed to use his wand. “Mum and Dad won’t be home until dinner, but they said to go ahead and blow them out. Just save them a couple slices. Hey Luna, where’s your other half? He’s not back in jail for punching out your stalker again?”

“Spenser’s at a comic book and fantasy writing convention, and Rolf Scamander’s not a stalker, he’s just…an avid admirer,” Luna explained.

“He’s a three hundred pound, balding, nudist with brown teeth and a penchant for cheap jewelry,” Hermione clarified. “He seems obsessed with the idea that you and he are married in some alternative universes. You have a restraining order against him.”

“Right. Sure. No worries and no reason then not to blow out the candles Gin. Everyone’s here,” George pointed out a little too forcefully. Ginny eyed him as she stepped up to the cake, and then exchanged a quick look with Harry. “Come on little sister. Ready? Now!”

Ginny leaned into the cake, but at the last moment jumped back, pulling her wand and leveling it at the cake as she did so. A silent flick and the candles were blown out and the cake blown up. Expecting this, Ginny was able to divert all the debris straight toward a surprised George, and just missing Fred’s and his house-elf Deutschendorf. The jokester’s latest stunt had been thwarted.

“Well, that wasn’t supposed to happen.” Obviously, an understatement on Luna’s part. “That is unless Seamus tries baking again.”

“You’re not doing too well this week brother dear. King of pranks? I don’t think so.” Ginny conjured a damp towel, but she handed it to the elf instead of George.

“My timing was just a bit off,” George admitted. Bubbles wiggled over to start cleaning the cake off him. “Comedy is never easy. If Fred had been here…”

“He would have distracted us,” Neville offered. “Uhm…you really did give yourself away. Oh, and you have a candle sticking out of your ear.”

“You could have done better? Bubbles, please don’t lick my forehead like that.”

“George, I think any of us could have today,” Harry countered. He was looking at Ginny however, and couldn’t quite read what he saw there.

“Is that so mate? Bubbles please stop licking the icing off my elbow. You do think you could do better…all of you do! Well, well, well. Do I hear a challenge?”

“You hear the gauntlet being thrown down for a prank war!” Ginny told him.

Her voice was loud, and the look Harry had noted earlier had evolved into one of evil mischief. He couldn’t remember ever seeing her with such a large grin. What was going on, Harry wondered. Ginny wasn’t interested in practical jokes. None of them were. More often than not they were all the victims of... Ah, that was it. It was payback time finally. Ginny walked up to George and locked eyes with him.

“We can make it official, and we can place a bet on it. Winner gets a bushel basket of products from your store; biggest losers get a wax likeness of their heads, mounted on stakes, displayed outside the shop entrance. Let’s see… Since you seem to need a helping hand, I’ll even allow you a bit of help. You can team up with Bubbles here.”

“That hardly seems fun,” Luna pointed out. Everyone except Bubbles, who had moved on to the chocolate on George’s shoulder, gave the girl a curious stare. “I mean, wouldn’t it be much more of a challenge working with someone other than our sweetie pies.”

“Please tell me you don’t call poor Spenser that. What do you have in mind?” Hermione asked.

“I can team up with Neville, Ron with Luna…” Harry began, but stopped himself, seeing yet another strange glint in Ginny’s eyes.

“You know, I think I want to team up with George instead.” It was the last thing anyone expected out of Ginny. “He can use all the help he can get.” The girl gave Harry’s hand a squeeze behind his back that he took as a request to trust her with whatever she had planned. “A couple other things. Each team plays one prank on another group picked at random. No magic can be used. They have to be Muggle jokes. We have to use our wits, not our wands. Teams need to write down their ideas; what they expect to happen, how they know they worked, and seal them in envelopes for when we meet again to judge. Also, no one can know about the war apart from the eight of us, but we can ask for outside help without telling them. Oh, Deutschendorf will need to remain quiet as well please.” This was a simple matter. Since the day the twins had acquired him, the mysterious house-elf had yet to utter a single word aloud and simply bowed then in reply. “Thank you. Any questions?”

“Yeah, where are we going to get another birthday cake before Mum finds out what happened to this one?” Ron rightly asked.

“I’ve got it covered. I’ve got a replacement in the pantry behind the case of nineteen forty surplus Spam. Bubbles, please stop licking the back of my neck. Mmm…on second thought.”


*****



Okay boys and girls–this is where I came into the story. I was fresh from the book signing at the convention (well…two copies anyway of my The Adventures of Avocado Man, and one of those to the Sink Into Your Eyes display booth to prop up a table leg), and completely unsuspecting of what had been set in motion at the Burrow. It wasn’t until the whole adventure was over that I received an adequate explanation for the frosting on the kitchen ceiling, or why Luni had called me sweetie pie as I stepped from the Floo.

Molly Weasley’s supper that evening was the thing of legend (as always), the birthday cake delicious (although Ginny used the kitchen’s small hand billows to blow out the candles from a distance), and the mood extremely festive at first. The only real distraction came later with the subdued conversations. Our group seemed to pair off, each sitting apart from other couples, and talking in hushed voices then. I had somehow been seated at the far end of the table, segregated from the various plotting as much as much as the teams were from each other. Except when one of the Weasley parents made a comment, or asked a question, causing someone to acknowledge our hosts, it was as if everyone was off in their own little worlds.

After dessert, the four duos took off to be alone, leaving me to help Deutschendorf with the dishes, and more confused than ever. Yes, my feelings were hurt, but I was consoled by immediate access to the leftover cake. When I later went to seek them each out, four times I was politely, yet firmly, asked to respect their privacy. Luna did take a moment to say it was for an enormous surprise. What was a surprise was how she and Ron were locked in his bedroom together all evening.

It had been planned that we spend a few days at the Burrow in order to better enjoy the birthday celebration (which never really happened), and then Harry and Ginny’s belated anniversary party the following Sunday. Our mini-vacation would culminate with the return of the children from visits to aunts, uncles and assorted grandparents, as well as the missing Weasley brothers from their own business trips. I had hoped to be able to relax there at the Burrow that week, but so far, I was off to a stressful start.

It was long after midnight before Luna came to our guest room. I wanted to confront the girl about what Ron and she had been doing, but I was actually scared of the answer. I pretended to be asleep. She wasn’t fooled.

“Spenser, could you help me obtain seventy pounds of raw oysters in the morning?”

Raw oysters? Those were an aphrodisiac! Luna was cheating on me with Ron! Ron was cheating on Hermione with Luna! Worse yet, they were blatantly doing it right under our noses and inside his family home! I grunted something noncommittal as a reply, rolled over, and didn’t go to sleep that night.


*****



“So Ginny, what do you and George have in mind for your prank?”

“I can’t tell you that Harry,” she giggled. “I know we drew Ron and Luna, but we are still competing against you.”

“What does it matter? You’re planning on throwing the race…aren’t you?” Ginny’s wicked grin was back. “You’re not? I don’t understand. Why did you ask to pair with George if you don’t want to have a little revenge on him?”

“Oh, we will Harry. We all will if I can convince her to do something.” Ginny spoke this last part to herself, maybe forgetting for a brief moment about Harry being there. “I know you don’t believe the story about my doll and the older gentleman,” she finally continued, “but it was absolutely true Harry. This afternoon I was suddenly inspired as if someone whispered the solution in my ear. Oh yes…I am evil sometimes.”

“The good kind I hope.” Harry began to give Ginny her nightly neck rub, surprised with how relaxed she was. It was a day of surprises in fact. “I will tell you our idea. It was Neville’s actually. I think he was inspired as well.”

“I believe it. Ah, that feels wonderful.”

“We’re sending Bubbles a formal letter here tomorrow morning. She’s been accepted to Oxford University. Hermione will have a fit.”

“Bubbles couldn’t even spell Oxford Harry. No, Hermione won’t believe it. She’ll know it’s your prank.”

“Maybe not. Look how quickly we’re pulling it. Neville snuck off to the university right off this evening. He knows a botany professor there who got him the stationary and will cover for us at that end if Hermione tries to confirm it.”

“Oh…you are the evil one Harry. Okay, George and I overheard Ron planning to go into London tomorrow morning with Luna. We’re going to have them arrested for jewelry theft. I hate to do it to Luna, but I owe Ron for one or two jokes.”

“Ho, ho…inspired Ginny…brilliant,” he laughed. “This one may top the Marauders in their prime. Are you sure you Weasleys are related to one of them somehow?”

“Ah yes…very hush, hush…but it’s time you knew Harry. James Potter was my real father.” Ginny began to giggle again, and uncontrollably.

“I suppose that really, really complicates matters doesn’t it?” Harry asked with a straight face. When he leaned over to kiss his wife, only then was Ginny’s silly laughter somewhat controlled…but only somewhat.


*****




Except for good old Deutschendorf, I was the first one up the next morning, which, for a household in farm country, was quite a feat. Mrs. Weasley found me and a half-emptied coffee pot in her kitchen a couple hours later. Hermione was just behind her. I wasn’t in the mood for any conversation, especially about her wonderful husband. She had different ideas.

“Spenser, you look as if you didn’t sleep last night,” she began, clearly stating the obvious. She took a minute to pour some coffee, sit down beside me and then to ensure Molly was out of earshot across the room. “Spenser, do you know anything about selling real estate, or better still, someone who does it professionally?”

“Uhm…I know a little. I helped Brandon and Kitty Llewellyn find their cottage in that Welsh village a few years back. I’m hardly an expert. Why? Are you planning on putting a house on the market?” Wait a minute! She knew about Ron and Luna! She was leaving him and getting ready to dump their home!

“Actually, yes I am. It’s a delicate matter, and I’m not at liberty to speak of it yet, but I would appreciate your help in finding an honest broker in London this morning.”

There it was. Next there would be the announced divorces. Divorces? No, I had to do something! I didn’t care about Ron. He must have led Luna down some primrose path. I did still care about her though, and poor Hermione as well. What could I… Oh boy, there was an idea.

“Sure Hermione. I know just the right person. He’s as honest as the day is long.” At least at the South Pole in the dead of winter. “I have to go into the city anyway after a fish monger. Don’t ask.” I also needed to break up Ron and Luna, knock some sense into him, and talk a little into her. “Harry asked me to go into the Ottery St. Catchpole village to get the week’s Muggle mail for Ginny’s folks. We can Floo into London after I get back.”


*****



“I don’t know Luna. Asking Spenser to help you with the oysters was all right but having him help us find the Muggle photographer you heard of is pushing it. He can’t find out about the prank. What does he think we’re doing up here all this time? He’s going to figure it out.”

“Ron, you are really becoming over-excited about this. Spenser doesn’t know a thing about our challenge. He believes that you and I are hiding here in your room having a wild, tumultuous affair.”

The morning coffee Ron had brought up and was sipping all at once spurted across his bedroom barely missing Luna. His eyes went as wide as a drunken house-elf, and his jaw fell open as if he were Jacob Marley’s ghost.

“You really do look silly Ron. Let’s see…we bring the oysters and our pictures of Neville and Harry to the photographer. He fakes one with some stand-in models and his Muggle ’puter-thingy, making it look as if our friends are having their own tryst, and then we leave copies for the wives to find.”

“Spenser thinks what? I can’t believe I’m doing this to my best friends!” Ron rubbed his forehead a moment, lamenting both the now empty coffee mug and his having gotten into the prank war in the first place. “Crikey! Spense doesn’t own a shotgun, does he?”


*****



“Is everyone ready?” I asked. I glared at a haggard-looking Ron as he whispered something to Luna, which made her laugh and me turn red. At least Rolf Scamander had only been annoying, not an actual threat to me, or a two-timer with one of my best friends. “Hey, where’s the bimbo…I mean your lady friend George?” He didn’t appear too happy suddenly, and Hermione had a look that might have killed. That had to be intended for her husband.

“Bubbles received a letter with those you fetched this morning,” Ginny explained for him. Was something funny? “The girl started screaming, packed and left a half an hour ago. I’m so sorry George. She was such a nice, sweet…”

“How could the university possibly allow… How did they know she was staying here at the… No, it was postmarked… I can’t believe how stupid… The school confirmed it though…”

“Hermione could you please complete a sentence?” Harry asked her, himself trying to keep from laughing I thought. Did he and Neville just wink at each other? I didn’t know it then, but the first prank had been pulled.

We stepped over to the Weasleys’ fireplace, and I mentally went over the stops we would be making in London. I first had to deliver Ron and Luna to the wharf market, and then Hermione to Slick Mel Tulane’s office. He owed me at least one favor, and I had messaged him earlier to remind him of it. He would drag his feet and stall Hermione until I could straighten Ron and Luna out about some things. Luna had also meekly asked me to direct her and her new beau to some address in west London. I simply grunted at her again in reply. I decided I had to refrain from blowing up yet, as there was a small…tiny chance I was wrong.

I took a handful of Floo powder from the mantle, requested the Leaky Cauldron, and we were off.


*****



“What are you doing here Bubbles?” Hermione demanded before I could ask more politely. Neither of us gave any consideration just then to how she’d found us there. “I would have thought you were far too busy settling into your college dormitory just now.”

“Oooh, no Hermione. I would never forget our little project. Tee, hee, hee. We need to get those for sale signs out, don’t we?”

“Hush!” Hermione commanded.

Bubbles was clearly in on something I wasn’t to be privy to yet. No doubt it was to spare my feelings about the still secret affair and upcoming break ups. The silver-haired girl didn’t bat an eye at the admonishment. Luna has sometimes been described as having a perpetually lost look in her eyes. This belies a deep wisdom and even a wonderful sense of humor in her. Bubbles, on the other hand, was a downright stupid stereotypical blonde. She supposedly made Fleur, during the dreaded Phlegm days, appear to be of scholarly disposition. Upon meeting Bubbles, the Weasley parents had immediately owled Angelina asking her to make up with George.

Bubbles, without replying, turned to study Mel’s office front, perhaps for a full minute. Still not speaking to either of us, the girl stepped up to, and then inside the small building. Hermione mumbled something I couldn’t understand, and probably wouldn’t want to, before going after her associate-in-realty. I couldn’t come up with a single logical, or even farfetched, reason for their working together to sell Ron and her cottage. The broker was expecting them, so I was essentially dismissed.

Our excursion group, to a person, had indicated a desire to have yet another day in the city. We would find rooms at The Leaky Cauldron, which, it so happens, is also a tavern. It was now afternoon in London, and I definitely needed a drink.


*****



“So you see Mr. Tulane, we don’t want to actually place my brothers-in-law’s store on the market. The family simply wishes to…pretend to. We wish to have the signs, the newspaper advertisements, and so forth, in order to better gauge the assessed value of the Diagon Alley property.”

“I understand completely Mrs. Weasley, or may I call you Hermione?”

“I would rather you didn’t.” Hermione had not liked the man from the onset. Nor had she missed how the broker and Bubbles continued to steal glances with each other whenever they thought she wasn’t looking. Only my strong endorsement of the gentleman’s capabilities convinced her to proceed as far as she had.

The truth be told, and I had not told my friend the truth, Slick Mel was an outright thief. His only beneficial attribute was being as smooth of a talker as he was, and his absolute need to retain an appropriate reputation among his own kind. He had a strong obligation owed me, his associates knew it, and failure to repay it somehow would seriously compromise his standing in their little community. Today he needed to delay any home sales. Unfortunately, I hadn’t mentioned any commercial property transactions.

“Mr. Tulane, I understand that, despite being a Muggle…that is…a non-Magic, you have conducted considerable business in Diagon Alley.” Hermione saw him look to Bubbles for just a heartbeat.

“Yes…your business sector there, while strictly serving only the Wizarding community, does require significant outside investment. It is simple economics, which benefits my establishment in that regard. I assure you, I’ve done exactly this type of transaction many times before. I promise you, the results will be extremely gratifying.”

Hopefully extremely comical as well, Hermione didn’t add. “Good. I hope to see immediate results.”

“Faster than you could imagine,” Mel told her, again grinning like a Cheshire beagle.

“Thank you,” Hermione said, standing and moving to the door, but pausing when she noticed Bubbles was still seated.

“You run along Hermione,” Bubbles began, replying to the unvoiced question. “I’d like to discuss perhaps purchasing some Oxford property from Mr. Tulane’s firm. I’m sure I’ll catch up with all of you later. Ooh, I hope Georgie isn’t still upset that we broke up that way. Tootles now.”

Hermione’s back went rigid, her chin shot up and her mouth clamped shut. She was far too much of a lady to speak aloud what she was thinking just then. Instead, the Witch stomped out the door into the August heat, too angry to care where she might be going next.


*****



“Luna, I can’t believe you did it!”

“Ron, you keep saying that. It’s a wonderful, sunny day. The sky is especially clear after the rain we had overnight. The birds are chirping. The fizzy purls are nibbling on the tree leaves and singing their off-key chipmunk songs. It’s a perfect day for a walk back to Diagon Alley.”

“Luna, you hocked your engagement and wedding rings to pay for these pictures!”

“Oh Ron–you always worry about the silliest things. We didn’t have time to go to Gringotts to exchange Galleons for British Pounds. The nice pawnbroker told us we have two days to redeem the rings. Would you like to have lunch now, or wait until we owl the photographs to Ginny and…”

“Luna you’re mental! I really finally think you are! Spenser wants to kill me! I don’t know why he hasn’t! As soon as he sees your rings gone…oh, I don’t want to think about it.”

Luna gave Ron her patented please don’t worry smile, and she was about to tell him the same thing as well. Unfortunately, three Muggle policemen walked up to them then, causing her to doubt it.

“Mr. Ronald Weasley, Mrs. Luna Scamander?” the first constable began.

“Oh, for pity’s sake! Rolf and I are not married in this reality. Who did the beta work on this story? It must have been Eric’s bartender again.” It was a toss-up as to who had the more confused expression, Ron or the police.

“Ahem…we were informed that you would be here just now. You’re under arrest for multiple counts of burglary, grand theft, and trafficking in stolen goods…specifically, fine jewelry. Do I have the pleasure of addressing the Stanford Phantoms. Quite catchy, I must admit.”

“I’m sorry. We really don’t have time to be arrested today. I was taken into custody in Marseilles once for killing my friend Neville, and it took me forever to get away.”

“Excuse me?” a plain clothes detective said, coming to join his uniformed associates.

“Luna, shut up” Ron pleaded. “Sir, this has to be some sort of mix up.”

“Perhaps,” the detective continued. “You were observed leaving the establishment of a well-known jewelry fence earlier today. Would you care to explain that?”

“We needed to get money in exchange for a set of rings in order to obtain compromising photographs of two of our friends,” Luna naturally explained.

“Luna, you are not helping! Officer…really…this is all just part of an elaborate prank. These photos are just part of a big practical joke,” Ron somehow managed to stammer. “Who reported us as jewel thieves?”

A large constable to one side with sergeant stripes pulled out a small notebook to check. “A Mrs. Ginevra Potter and a Mr. George Weasley.”

“What? My older brother and little sister? Wait, they’re pulling a prank on us now! I swear I’m going to kill both of them. Really, it’s all just an elaborate practical joke!”

“Not a very funny one,” the detective said then, his serious face reflecting his mood. “We arrested both of them when a stash of explosives George Weasley was carrying suddenly ignited in the stationhouse. Most incredible fireworks display I’ve ever seen–if that’s what they were. We’re holding them as possible terrorists until we can confirm otherwise.”

The surprised expressions Ron and Luna displayed increased tenfold when they joined hands, attempted to Disapparate away, and discovered they couldn’t. Strong hands grasped their arms then, and wands were taken. These Muggles knew they were Magics? No–the way they examined the magical sticks, they’d just been told to confiscate them quickly, not what they might be.

As the pair were led away to the waiting squad car, neither could see the two hooded figures watching from the adjacent alley, or the bag of gold they gave the detective in exchange for the manila envelope he had taken from Ron.


*****



For a second straight night, I didn’t sleep–not a wink. Luna hadn’t come back to the inn, and I fully expected to meet the sunrise with a note outside my door telling me she was on her way to Mexico with Ron. No note–instead I found Deutschendorf standing there with a copy of that morning’s Daily Prophet. The headline was just as big a shock as a Dear Spenser letter would have been.

“Oh feldercarb!” Other inappropriate words were screamed as well as I ran for Harry’s and then Neville’s rooms. There was no answer at either.

Down the stairs and into the tavern, I was greeted with a room full of other guests and a great number of newspapers. I spotted Harry and Neville together near the fireplace, and, as I expected, the group was giving them a wide berth. I didn’t miss that Ginny wasn’t with them. I waded through the crowd, hearing the assorted comments as I went to join my friends.

“Never would have thought it.”

“Explains a bunch of things.”

“Ain’t such a big man now, is he?”

“I wonder where the one got the black negligee? Like to get one for my friend…uhm, er…his sister.”

Harry and Neville rose to meet me, and without saying it, we knew we had to get to the joke shop. I still didn’t know about the prank war, but regardless, I could smell Fred and George’s hand in the article. Something had obviously gone seriously wrong. Once inside the Alley, Harry motioned for us to follow him into a deserted side street to talk.

“Harry, I had nothing to do with this!” I immediately told him. “Who would have produced a fake Muggle photograph of you two in bed together, in those skimpy costumes and feeding each other…oy…oy vey…oysters? Oh no! Has anyone seen Luni?”

“Has anyone seen anyone this morning?” Harry countered. “It was Luna and Ron, Spense. We know that now. I doubt they anticipated this though. That means Hermione and Bubblehead must have drawn Ginny and George from the hat.”

“What are you talking about?” I could tell he was on the verge of telling me everything, but something stopped him. “I left Hermione and the floozy at the real estate broker I found for them yesterday. No one has seen them?”

“Bubbles came back?” Neville asked. His eyes told me his mind was racing. “I thought we were rid of her after we…”

“Neville…no! You can’t yet,” Harry told him.

“Wait…” I slowly began. “You sent her that letter from Oxford! That nitwit couldn’t get into remedial kindergarten. Hold on! Then Luni and Ron set this up, and… Uhm, I don’t suppose either of you know anything about the two of them going off together on some wild romantic tryst or something?” Their faces answered that question. “Oh snap! What the heck was I thinking! We’re talking Luna and Ron!”

Neville and Harry both cocked their heads and I could tell they agreed with the self-assessment of my severe stupidity. They didn’t say anything along those lines or reveal any more about what I was coming to suspect–they had taken to playing very elaborate jokes on each other. I was about to ask if I should expect one soon, but, before I could, Harry took off at a run in the direction of Weasleys’ Wizarding Wheezes and hopefully some answers.

It was normally a ten minute stroll to the shop, which should have been halved by our pace, but was instead tripled by a sea of questioning/commenting Witches and Wizards in our path. We paused for just a few moments at a newsstand where we were horrified to see several publications, some international, had their own versions of the photo. It had been posted to the Wizarding Wire Service! We knew Luna’s connections at The Quibbler would give her the means to do this, but we all realized as well that Ron and she hadn’t.

Turning the last corner, and then within sight of the shop, we were again stunned into stopping. The establishment was boarded up. Under New Management and Sold signs were plastered all about the exterior. Hermione! Was this her prank? Was this what they were doing at the broker’s office? Slick Mel had been told not to…not to allow Hermione to sell their home. I had put no restrictions on any joke store deals.

The three of us had slowed to a walk and reduced our speed further at seeing George…no Fred standing outside with a pair of young ladies. I could tell it was him by the residual bushy green eyebrows. The girls I recognized as Angelina–both of them. A second later they spotted and met us halfway.

“Does anyone have the faintest idea why my brother and I are suddenly broke and out of business?” Fred slowly asked. He still sounded weak after his furry ordeal. “I get out of the hospital, find my brother-in-law on the front page of every Wizarding periodical in the world, George is missing…”

“So are Hermione, Ginny, Luna, Ron, and Bubbles,” Neville explained.

“Bubbles La Rue? What does she have to do with this?” one of the Angelinas almost shouted. Yes, she knew the blonde. “I’m sorry. This is my sister Evalyna. You wouldn’t have met her at school. Twin or not, Lyna is a squib.”

“Ah,” Harry, Neville and I said in unison, voicing our understanding.

“We were going announce our engagement at Sunday supper. How was Ginny’s birthday by the way?”

“Married?” Harry quietly mouthed. “How did we miss seeing that coming? You and George always were good at keeping secrets.” We wondered if you two would end up with another set of twins as well, he didn’t add.

“We saved you some birthday cake,” Neville offered, but then felt self-conscious at mentioning it under the circumstances.

“It doesn’t look as if we can get married anytime soon now regardless. Our bank account is empty. The supposed new store owner has hired a lawyer to press his claim, and he may have the law on this side. When I went into St. Mungo’s, George and I signed a power of attorney in case something went wrong there. Apparently one of our employees swiped the thing. Used it to sell us out and pocket the money.”

“Bubbles!” the three of us said, again together. Fred nodded in reply.

“Fred, there’s something I need to explain. It’s gone too far.” Harry eyes went to me as well–I would hear the whole story now. “It wasn’t meant to go this way. I think some person, or persons, is taking advantage of our prank war.”

“Prank war?” Fred actually smiled. “At least they caught one of the people responsible for this. The broker got away, but they have some girl. The Muggle police do that is.”

“Uh oh. I may know where Hermione is now,” I told no one in particular. “Does anyone know a good Muggle bail bondsman?”


*****



Offering quick apologies to the Johnson sisters, Fred, Neville, Harry, and I ran back the way we had come, this time with wands drawn. A magic bolt fired into the cobblestones here and there as we went left the crowds with no doubts about trying to delay us this time. Through the brick wall portal and back into the Cauldron, we held up at the sight of a now-empty tavern…except for five Aurors and the Minister of Magic himself, Kinsley Shacklebolt.

“Kingsley, what’s going on?” The Aurors cringed at hearing Harry’s familiarity with the Minister. “We need your help. The Muggles have arrested Hermione for stealing…” Kingsley cut him off.

“A number of your friends and family have been arrested in point of fact. Harry, we’re here to speak with you and Neville about the photograph. A criminal complaint has been filed with the Ministry against the two of you. Felony gigoloing in his case and contributing to the delinquency of a herbologist in yours. This is a very serious matter I’m afraid.”

“Is gigoloing even a word? Surely you can’t be serious. Please don’t say it. Both those jokes have been overused in these stories. You were there at Ginny and my wedding. Our anniversary dinner is Sunday, and you were invited remember? Do you actually believe I would dump Ginny for someone like Neville?”

“Hey! No wait…I’m a gigolo? I’m…I’m happily married as well,” Neville managed to stammer. He didn’t look well at the moment, and who could blame him.

“Uhm, Minister, did the complaint, by any wild chance, happen to come from a young lady named Bubbles La Rue?” I asked. I was well off in the direction of knowing there was more to this character than we could possibly have suspected.

“You mean Aquitainia La Rue?” No wonder she went by Bubbles. “Doctor Aquitainia La Rue, Professor of Art History at Princeton University in America? Yes, it was her. How did you know?” Strong doubt flashed across Kingston’s face then, noting our stunned expressions, and he seemed again to remember how much he had always trusted our group of friends.

“Ron, Ginny, Luna, and George are also in a Muggle jail,” he continued. “Our liaison to their police has placed wards about them to keep the lot from leaving, but I’ve arranged for them to be brought to a station house north of Epsom so our representatives may meet to discuss the matter of Magics being held by Muggles. First thing however–-I do believe I have yet to have my morning coffee. May I enjoy a quick cup while you explain a few things?” At least the Minister always enjoyed it strong the way I did.


*****



“You need to drive Spense! I’ve never learned how to really,” Harry shouted as he magically unlocked and started the car…the police squad car there on the curb in fact.

“Lovely! Do I have to stay on the left over here?” I knew…I knew this was a bad idea, but we didn’t have time. They were getting away. “Whoa! I’ll never get used to the steering wheel being on this side!”

After hearing Harry’s explanation about the prank war, an amused Kingsley dispatched the Aurors to locate Bubbles, and to escort Neville, Harry, and me by Floo to the office of a minor Ministry representative working a few blocks from the Epsom station. Poor Fred, suffering a minor relapse (a long green beard had reappeared–naturally infested with tzibdibs), had to bow out from the fieldtrip.

There not having been enough surprises for one morning, we naturally had to appreciate the next one we were given. Across from the station, we had Bubbles and a familiar fat man forcing Ginny and Luna into a sedan at wandpoint. As Ginny was taking the driver’s seat, we had to assume they were under severe duress, or, more likely, the Imperious Curse. Harry and I took after them on foot, but it wasn’t the best tactic considering the smoke and rubber burning as they left us in their dust. We were perhaps thirty seconds behind them once we were buckled in.

I floored it, and we took off like Harry after a Snitch (bless those police engines), but only for about fifty yards before slowing. We were within sight of the other car, but we were also traveling through a Muggle suburban neighborhood. School was out, and there were kids everywhere. Perhaps the kidnappers had a shred of conscience, or maybe Ginny still had some control in her stupor, but they had reduced speed significantly as well. They made up for it with some pretty intense driving.

Twice they made hard right turns, and we didn’t see brake lights when they did. We managed to barely match them, but lost ground both times. Increasing speed as they came to the top of a small hill, the sedan seemed to want to mimic the Weasleys’ old Anglia by going airborne for a moment. Imitating them, but with beautiful police suspension that still jarred us, Harry wondered aloud what it had done to the more heavily loaded civilian vehicle.

“Spenser, where would the lights and siren be?”

“I don’t know, and I’m too scared to take my hands off the steering wheel to find them!” I assumed we’d have to replace the thing the way my fingers were leaving indentations in it.

“She flies like a Seeker, but she drives like a witch.
She's a terror on and off Hogwarts' Quidditch pitch!”


“Shut up Spense! Now isn’t the time! All four tires on the ground please!”

“Sorry…I thought it would calm my nerves, or what’s left of them.

Fortunately, Harry eventually found the switches, and even took the time to turn on the car’s radio as well. The broadcasts we heard indicated that the constables were well aware of our borrowing their property. The lights were a brilliant idea, as cars around us were pulling over as we approached, but not for sedan. To make up for the disparity, that car was again driving all out, taking the next hill further off the ground than the last. It reminded me of the car chase in Steve McQueen’s film Bullit.

This time when they landed hard, there was a wisp of steam coming back from their hood, and the left side wheels appeared a tad lower than the right. It didn’t slow them even a bit as those nuns in the crosswalk discovered. The sisters had to dive out of the way again when I tore through there. What? I had too many friends growing up who had to endure years of Catholic school and rapped knuckles.

This was when we noticed the three sets of lights and sirens matching ours pulling in behind us. Harry didn’t say anything, but he did jerk his chin after our girls indicating we continue. A set of motorcycles from a side street pulled in to join the forty-five mile-per-hour parade. We both fingered our wands, silently wondering how we were going to get out of this one, even if we caught them eventually.

The sedan solved part of our problem when it took another sharp turn, this time onto a railway. We followed, but the pursuing cars sensibly didn’t. The police bikes took the chance however, and the way we were bouncing along, they must surely have been hating life. All at once, the second one’s front wheel snapped left and caught between the rail ties, sending the constable flying. The first didn’t fare any better when, at a small bridge, something caused him to careen off into the stream it crossed. We’d lost our pursuers, for the moment, but Bubbles wasn’t going to lose us.

Smoke–-thick black smoke this time–-was pouring out of their car now. It served them right for making off in a late model Dodge Dart. You had to know they understood their situation, but desperation, in this case, caused mistakes to be made. The sedan finally turned off the tracks, and Ginny pulled what little speed their beat-up rig had left…for a quarter mile down a dead-end street.

Seeing them stop, we did the same about a third the length of a Quidditch pitch behind them. Harry and I were out with wands drawn in half a heartbeat. I took with me the Muggle device that was lying on the seat between us. Still desperate, the other car, somehow still running, turned around and began to speed toward us (speed being a relative term for them at this point). I let Harry have the honors. He stepped up to meet them, raised his wand and waited until they were maybe thirty yards off.

Edsel Phobia!” he screamed. No, I didn’t make that spell up. The sedan quickly slowed to a stop, and then fell apart around them like a house of cards. Harry, if he’d wanted it, had a great future in auto demolition.

The kidnappers lifted their own wands, as you would expect, but that was a mistake given a pair of scared, worried husbands. The sticks actually blew up in their hands, thereby releasing Ginny and Luna. It was the bad guys’ turn to be appropriately afraid. I went forward first, straight up to the fat man.

“Let’s see how this Muggle police toy works.” I shoved the taser into Rolf’s gaping mouth, pushed the button and sent him backward at least five feet. “Tsk, tsk… I told you not to touch your tongue to that! Luni, how could you possibly survive being married to this dweeb in any other universe?”

“I suppose I must own an extremely large marble rolling pin.” I hugged her, but still kept my wand on Bubbles. Luna and I turned then to watch a visibly shaking Harry approach Ginny.

“Ginny, are you…?” He paused here, but just for a second. “I love you! Now come closer! I want to kill you!” They both smiled then, embracing each other. “Where in Merlin’s name did you ever learn to drive like that?”

The constables who arrived just then in eight additional squad cars ended up asking her the same question.


*****



“I don’t care what part of the government you’re from Mr. Shacklebolt. We’re throwing all of these maniacs in the pokey for so long they won’t see daylight until warp drive starships actually exist. Oh, you’ll all love the twenty-second century! People will be able to travel from place to place transported as if they’re teleporting. They’ll have sticks that can stun muggers from a distance and flying through the air on skateboards will be all the rage!”

“Actually, brooms will work better for…”

“Not now Neville,” Hermione whispered to him.

“Quiet you! Young man, you seem to be the only one I haven’t found charges to level against…yet.” Neville cringed and looked to Kingsley, remembering the Wizarding complaint he had looming over him. “Let’s see, we have attempted arson; possibly terror-related.”

“Those were fireworks from my brother’s joke shop,” Ginny attempted. She went quiet though, wondering if such things were themselves legal in Muggle London.

“These two here are our prime suspects for that jewelry theft operation our department, among others, has been investigating for the last three years.” An accusing finger was pointed toward Ron and Luna.

“Which we only reported as part of a prank on my brother and our friend,” Ginny continued.

“The real Stanford Phantoms are Aquitainia ‘Bubbles’ La Rue and Rolf Scamander. My people have uncovered a great deal of evidence against them. The couple has had the pawn broker smuggle their ill-gotten loot into the United States by way of Scamander’s private nudist beach near Miami for years.”

“Strange, Mr. Kingsley, that you should uncover such damning information so quickly. We haven’t located the jewel fence as yet. His small shop was completely cleared out when we returned there.” Luna had a death grip on my hand suddenly, and looking over to her, I saw her jaw tighten and her eyes tearing up. “It is also strange how Mr. George Weasley, the one making the initial accusation, has his own criminal complaint against his sister-in-law Hermione Weasley. At the very least, I see charges for filing false police reports.”

“You don’t understand,” Harry said, no small bit of anger, or at least frustration, rising up in him. “The Aurors discovered…”

“The what?” the detective demanded in a low threatening voice.

“The private detectives I employ have also learned how Bubbles and Rolf had decided to retire from cat burglary,” Kingsley clarified. “She was hiding herself, working as a clerk at George and Fred Weasley’s joke shop. With Fred’s recent, uhm, injuries she saw a unique opportunity to acquire all their money and assets, easily placing the blame on Hermione she believed. Manipulating yet another pair of pranksters, Doctor La Rue somehow obtained entry into Oxford University, but as an instructor, not as a student as everyone thought.”

“This joke store…where exactly is it? My constables haven’t been able to locate it, or any reference to it!”

“It’s located…outside your jurisdiction,” Harry told the man, receiving yet another hard look. “Kingsley, what about…”

“The photograph being publicly released? It seems that Bubbles wanted to steal one more prize, your husband Ginny. The photograph was supposed to break you up. Silly rabbit!” Kingsley laughed. “Your kidnapping was to get you out of the way a bit more efficiently and permanently. Rolf taking Luna was just…well, you all know why there.”

“Well I don’t know why!” the detective shouted. “Where are Scamander and La Rue!”

“They’re in my Ministry’s custody. I’m sorry Harry, Neville…we weren’t able to quash further publication of the photograph.”

“How dare you Shacklebolt! When our prosecutors are finished…”

The detective wasn’t able to complete his sentence before the side door to the station’s large interrogation room opened admitting a by now very familiar older gentleman. Looking to her, I saw how Ginny wasn’t breathing, so surprised was she at his appearance.

“I’m sorry I’m late. I’m Inspector Nathan Birnbaum from New Scotland Yard. Kingsley, Inspector Japp, would you please excuse us for a few minutes. I need to have a word with these young people.”

“Come on Mr. Shacklebolt, I’ll buy you a cup of tea down in our lunchroom. Inspector Birnbaum needs to have a word with these young people.”

After they had left, we waited a full minute before someone spoke. It was Ginny.

“Nathan Birnbaum?”

“George Burns. He portrayed me in three films. A wonderful gentleman. I thought appearing this way would be poetic, especially how the character always shows up to put things right at the end of the movie. Let’s see, first Harry and Neville. The photograph is gone. It never existed, and no one outside of your group here has ever seen it or knows about the thing. The policeman who sold it to Bubbles and Rolf is on my naughty list, as are the two of them. They’ll be spending the next several years in Azkaban by the way. All charges against you have been dropped, since nothing ever happened. Ginny, you do need driving lessons though.”

Our mouths were collectively hanging open.

“Why am I here? Little four-year-old girls really are a favorite creation of mine. You’ve been under my special protection Ginny since that morning we met up in the park, although with Harry looking out for you… Great job in the Chamber Harry. Well, I haven’t needed to get personally involved again before now. ”

Ginny was hugging the gentleman before he’d even finished. It was probably not an everyday event. He was smiling however, as was everyone else at the turn of events…except Luna.

“Ah Luni–-may I call you that as well? I mean it in an affectionate context just as Spenser does. I didn’t forget you, although you do need be more careful with your rings in the future. Deutschendorf?” he called out.

The silent house-elf appeared then, with an armful of wands, which he handed out to each of us in turn, stopping finally in front of our guest. Deutschendorf obviously didn’t have one for him. The little guy seemed confused.

“No, as I told Ginny that day, I’m not a Wizard and don’t need such things.” He laughed again however seeing something funny in it. “I suppose if that makes me a Muggle to you… Ho, ho!”

Deutschendorf came up to Luna then, and with a flickering of his fingers, her rings reappeared on hers. She gave me a hug this time, quietly apologizing in my ear for her lack of good judgment.

“No worries this time Luni. Just don’t let yourself be kidnapped again. It scares the wits out of me every time it happens.”

Deutschendorf moved back to Inspector Birnbaum , and our guest leaned down, whispered in the elf’s ear, and then handed him a small ribboned scroll. Short stuff walked it over to George who immediately took and opened it.

“What’s this?” he asked. “Let’s see… ‘Effective immediately, Deutschendorf the house-elf is hereby freed by my authority. Live with it kid. Signed–-God.’ Gurgle…eep,” was all George could get out.

“Free? Free…free, free!” the elf sang as he danced a full circuit about the room, before finally bowing down to his benefactor in thanks, and then popping off to begin his new life. No one could think of better first words out of him or fail to see the great humor in what had been done to George.

“Hey, anyone who could turn Lot’s wife into a pillar of salt, incinerate Sodom and Gomorrah, and make it rain for forty days and forty nights has got to be a fun guy. That’s from the first film. I like it. It’s a favorite of mine. Oh, and Ginny, I haven’t forgotten my promise to you all those years ago. Deutschendorf delivered a message to her home in Edinburgh. Harry’s nice Muggle biographer will meet with you again this evening to hear your new suggestions, and, not surprisingly, will follow them. Have a nice anniversary dinner.”

Just as she had related it to us in her first story, he began to glow slightly, and then fade away before us. The rest of us wasted no time in Disapparating off from our onetime place of custody.


*****



The anniversary supper was a far superior celebration to the birthday party, especially the reunion with our children. Time away from them was occasionally very welcome, but only in small doses. Bouncing my daughter Jennifer on my knee that afternoon, I had to wholeheartedly agree with how wonderful little girls were.

By ten o’clock that night the munchkins were all asleep in their beds and the Weasley parents even excused themselves after such a long day. The prank warriors invited Fred and me into the family parlor for a talk, beginning with yet another apology from everyone for making use of us the way they had. We waved that off, but I did have one particular question for all of them.

“All right, what did everyone learn from all that happened, apart from avoiding persuasion potions in birthday punch from jewel thieves guiding you into…things.”

“Stay off the sidewalk when Ginny and/or Spenser are driving,” Harry said, almost under his breath. Ginny softly punched him. “I don’t know why that ancient gentleman with the leather jacket, fedora and bullwhip dove on our car’s bonnet that way.”

“I doubt it was that important if he didn’t leave a card,” Neville offered. Something else was bothering him. “We could have been in trouble.”

“We could have been,” Hermione slowly conceded. “Your Oxford stunt…” Hermione stopped and took a breath, remembering how she was the recipient of that. “It was fairly mild, as Bubbles, from what we now understand, could easily have gotten into the university on her own. The two bad pranks…”

“The jewelry robbery detainment for Ron and Luna was supposed to be quick, easy, and just a bit embarrassing,” Ginny slowly told everyone.

“The lesson learned is that you need to leave the professional-level jokes to professional-level pranksters,” Fred announced. “Ginny, I think a good attorney, or even Percy, would have gotten you off. George and I on the other hand are what this profession aspires to be.”

“Hold on. You were brought down more than any of us were,” Ron told him outright. “If you’re so good, why did you get hit the hardest? You lost everything until…”

“Didn’t happen. Couldn’t have happened. Minds messed with. Wasn’t really him.” George didn’t seem convinced even as he spoke. “Thought about going to church this morning though. Nah…”

“Then where’s your house-elf?” Luna asked for the group. “Excuse me. Who won our challenge?”

“The Muggles did it seems,” George suggested. He had been in a weirdest of moods ever since meeting…Inspector Birnbaum. “You all lost or could have. I’m…what am I saying? I’m the prank master in this family!

“Ahem.”

“Fred and I are the prank masters in this family!”

The rest of the room was on our feet going to bed then. Luna broke the mood with one last question.

“Fred?”

“Yes Luna, George and I are engaged.”

“To each other? No, you must mean to Angelina and Evalyna.”

“Uhm…don’t tell Mum yet,” they said together, syllable for syllable. The link was still working.

“We need to speak with their parents first,” Fred said meekly. The brothers were…once in a while…noble and polite.

“Great luck to all of you. I’m going to get some sleep.” Ron smiled, slapped both his brothers on the shoulders, and that wordless message, which would pass between the twins, came from a little brother who cared for them just as much.


*****



“So, who did win the challenge? Who is the great prankster?” Harry asked as they climbed into a very soft bed that night. They had spent an extra bit of time standing over little James’ and Albus’ cots, admiring their beautiful sons, and, reluctantly, thinking about how close they’d come to disaster with the prank war.

“You and I did silly.”

“No, Ginny…we weren’t a team. It would be against the rules.”

“As if George didn’t break them, sending poor Deutschendorf all about and trying to have some side-fun during this. Remember the fireworks George was carrying? Besides, we had permission from the highest authority.”

“Ginny did that really…? Did we all actually meet…The Big Guy?

“Let’s assume we did Harry. Do you think our other author friend will write the seventh book that way? I mean change it enough to give us our privacy, get back at the twins and still give the Muggles a nice story?” Harry drew her into the deepest kiss then, and he couldn’t care less about some target audience.

“Ginny, we’ll worry about the Muggles tomorrow.”

“No, what I mean is…what are we really taking away from all this? What is the moral to this story?”

“Ginny, we’ll worry about the Muggles tomorrow.”

“Harry…mmm.”


*****



It was really the strangest thing. For some reason, Harry’s Muggle biographer wrote the seventh volume of his story completely different than what happened in our reality. When finally published, she’d been convinced to allow George to lose an ear and for Fred to be killed outright. Arthur and Molly were quite upset at first, and the twins… They acknowledged their sister, with her overdue payback, as the ultimate prank queen (in that one case), gave her the bushel of products, and even allowed their wax heads on the stakes outside the store. Ironically, it improved business.

As for lessons learned… What is the moral to this story I give you? I would advise you to beware of alternative universe authors. Everyone else had another idea though, and it is important to respect others’ opinions isn’t it? Maestro; once more please.


Nothing for kings, nothing for crowns.
Bring on the lovers, liars and clowns!
What is the moral?
Must be a moral.
Here is the moral, wrong or right:

Muggles tomorrow–-comedy tonight!




Mischief managed!




A/N: This story is dedicated to the late Larry Gelbart (1928 to 2009), who wrote for us such works as television’s M*A*S*H, George Burn’s film Oh God! (referenced in this story), and, with Burt Shevelove, A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum. A Comedy Tonight is from that musical; music and lyrics by Stephen Sondheim. Deutschendorf, as in Henry Deutschendorf, the late John Denver (1943-1997), who was a great friend and costar to George Burns (1896-1996; yes, a full hundred years).

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