Magical Accidents and Catastrophes (Barmy Prompts)
Prompt 3 by barmy-owl: Ron is a turtle, Hermione is an electric stove. Draco (who's a curtain but that's not important) doesn't approve of their love. Harry who is a fridge tells Draco to back off! You can decide what Ginny is.
Okay, I’ve decided that Ginny is a pregnant human.
Rating: T for swearing
Ron sighed. This was the last thing he needed today. Harry had been a complete and utter git. And now he’d gone and dragged Ron into the mess with him. They’d be lucky if Ginny didn’t skin them alive. Who would’ve thought that the Boy Who Lived was going to meet his demise at the hands of his wife?
He sighed again as Ginny unwittingly broke yet another glass in the poor bartender’s hands. The pregnancy had made her magic unpredictable. He remembered the years before Hogwarts, when she was too young to control her energy. Things would often break or transform when she was angry or upset. He recognised the same sort of electricity crackling about her now.
Ron nervously fingered the box in his jacket. If she didn’t calm down soon, she could cause some serious damage. But he was more worried about the way the night was turning out. He let Harry try and placate Ginny as he, once again, went over the plan in his mind.
He had always known that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with Hermione. And while it had taken him some time to realise it, he knew it was only a matter of time before he popped the question. And the time seemed right now. When he asked Harry to help, they decided not to tell Ginny because she couldn’t keep a secret from Hermione to save her life. Hermione would’ve the known the moment that Ginny did, and Ron just couldn’t have that.
So they had used their influence to book an entire French restaurant that Hermione had been wanting to try for the night; the plans had been long and elaborate. The restaurant owner, who was curiously enough, not remotely French (neither, it turned out, was the chef), had been only too happy to help Harry Potter’s friends. Ron had pulled out all the stops. Big red roses, expensive wine, a series of courses that weren’t even on the menu but he knew were her favourite dishes, the works. It was supposed to be special tonight. It was supposed to be perfect. And it would’ve gone without a hitch too, if it hadn’t been for Harry’s big mouth.
Although, to be fair, it had been an honest mistake. But he was in no mood to forgive Harry for letting it slip that he had been planning proposing to Hermione for a while now without telling his sister anything about his intentions. The fact that even Harry kept it a secret from her didn’t please Ginny in the slightest. She had been steadily getting angrier ever since, dredging up all past misdemeanors until she was red in the face and Ron could only thank his lucky stars that the pub was still fairly empty. In fact, the only other customer seemed to be a blond man at the bar, but he seemed to be too busy drowning himself in a pint of beer to pay them any attention.
Hermione would be here any minute and he had told her he would take her to a good restaurant to celebrate her promotion. It was the thought that Hermione would walk in mid-rant and figure out his plans that caused Ron to snap.
“Get over it Ginny! You would’ve gone blabbing to everyone and their mother, and you know it. I’m not even a little sorry that we didn’t tell you!”
Now, several things went wrong at this moment. Not only did Hermione chose that very moment to arrive at their table, it had been the absolute worst thing to say, because Ginny’s temper finally got the better of her, and her magic exploded in every direction. As a result, everyone was instantly, and inadvertently, signed up for the most bizarre night of their lives.
Ron was incredibly confused for a few moments. Everything seemed suddenly too big, the chair in which he sat had expanded around him. The world seemed brighter, were there more colours, he thought incredulously. Why did it look like he was viewing everything through omniculars? Was that a pool of his own clothes around him… no it couldn’t be! He was horrified, but quickly realized what had happened, having had some small experience in Ginny’s erratic bursts of magic when they were children.
Unfortunately, it seemed like the pregnancy had made it stronger and it was no longer just their pygmy puff that she was capable of transfiguring. He didn’t know what he had been morphed into, but sitting next to him, or standing, for the chair was in splinters now, was a huge ‘fridge’. Hermione had told him that muggles kept things in it to keep from spoiling. He could only assume that it was Harry who’d been transfigured into one.
He tried to see if he could move, and he discovered that he could scuttle to the edge of his seat. So, he was a living thing. That was reassuring. He couldn’t imagine what Harry must be feeling, but could faintly hear his groaning.
Somewhere above him, he could also hear a frantic female voice. Hermione. He tried to jump, straining himself to try and see above the table, but the best he could do was extend what he assumed was his neck. He was saved from contemplating a risky jump off the chair by the appearance of Ginny’s head. She nervously peered over the edge of the table, all traces of anger had disappeared from her face.
“Oh Merlin! Ron, is that you?”
“Yeah,” to his immense surprise, Ron found that he was able to talk quite normally.
“Oh thank god! I was afraid you disappeared. I’m so sor-“
“Where’s Hermione?” he interrupted her impatiently.
“Uh… I turned her into an eclectic stove, I think,” she replied apologetically.
“Electric,” came a feeble voice from above the table. “Electric stove. What’s going on?”
“What am I?” Ron asked Ginny urgently.
She made a sheepish face.
“A turtle.”
“Bloody hell, Ginny, you’ve really done it now!”
“I’m sorry, Ron! I’m so so sorry!”
“Just lift me up to the table, I want to be able to see Hermione,” he snapped.
Ginny reached down and picked him up in her hands and slowly lowered him onto the table. He quickly scampered onto the wooden tabletop towards a large flat rectangular object, which whimpered weakly. Harry was still groaning, and Ginny immediately turned her attention to the fridge.
“Hermione, are you okay?”
“Yes, mostly. Ron, I can hear you but can’t see you what’s going on? Why am I an electric stove?”
“I’m sorry, Hermione. You know how Ginny’s magic’s been a bit unpredictable lately?”
“Yes,” she replied uncertainly.
“Well, no one could’ve predicted this. She accidentally transfigured us….Harry is a fridge. And I’m apparently a turtle.”
No reply.
“Hermione?” he asked, concerned.
“I’m here. Just trying to digest that piece of information,” she replied.
“Right. Of course.” A few moments passed before she spoke again.
“Ron…”
“Yes, Hermione?”
“If I continue to be a stove for much longer, I don’t think I’ll survive for much longer.”
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s the magic in the air. It’s affecting my electrical insides. And you said Harry was a fridge… judging by his groaning, I’d say he’s in the same situation.”
“Fuck!” he exclaimed loudly.
“Ginny, you better fix this right now. Hermione says the magic is affecting her and Harry. They’re both electrical!”
“I- I don’t know how! I don’t know any spells for turning back muggle objects, or even animals!” she seemed near tears.
Sensing that he would have to take charge of the situation, he took a deep breath.
“Ginny, get yourself together! Is there any other human left in sight, or did you transfigure them all?”
“There wasn’t anyone here! Just the bartender and some bloke at the bar, and I can’t see them anywhere…wait…. I think that man is now a piece of cloth?”
“Fuck!” he said again.
“Language, Ron,” said Hermione, but there was no energy in her words. She had said it more out of habit than anything else.
Ginny came back to their table with a red face.
“The man is a curtain now,” she informed them.
“Ginny, okay, listen to me. Send a patronus to the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. Ask for Spencer-Moon, should be his shift right now. Get his team to come down her ASAP and fix this. You have to keep your wits about you, okay? Can you do that Ginny?”
“Y-yes,” she nodded shakily. “I can do that.”
As she set about trying to conjure a patronus, Harry grunted again.
“Hold on mate, it won’t be long now,” Ron said, encouragingly.
“That was a good pep-talk, Ron. Well done,” said Hermione. She had begun to sound sleepy.
“Just stay with me, Hermione. Keep talking to me. Please!” he said, alarmed.
“I’m fine. Just fine.”
“Shit. Gin, hurry up!”
“I’m trying!” she shouted, trying desperately to think of happy thoughts with tears pouring down her eyes.
“Ron, mate, I’m so sorry your night got ruined,” came Harry’s defeated voice. “Please don’t hate me after I’m dead.”
He sounded so dramatic; Ron would have found it downright comical if it wasn’t for the fact that both his best friends were in imminent danger of dying.
“Is that Potter’s voice I hear?” came a voice from the barstool at the other end of the room. “What in Merlin’s name is going on? Why is everything so dark?”
“Malfoy?” Ron exclaimed, dubiously.
“Great, the Weasel’s here too. And I thought the night couldn’t get any worse.”
“You were the man at the bar? Fuck! Talk about ruined nights!”
“Sorry, mate,” came Harry’s voice again. “I wrecked your proposal, didn’t I? I swear it was a mistake, Ron. Will you still come to my funeral?”
Fuck, Harry!
“Wait, what?” Hermione’s drowsiness seemed to have vanished.
“How much did you fucking drink, Harry?” he asked irritably.
“Ron? Were you going to…?”
He sighed.
“Yeah, I was going to ask you to marry me tonight, Hermione. I’m sorry I cocked up so bad.”
“Oh, Ron,” she sounded weepy.
“Please don’t cry, Hermione! I swear I had a proper planned proposal. I was going to take you to that French restaurant you wanted to check out, and I even have a ring and everything!”
“Oh Ron, I don’t need all that. I love you!”
“Blegh. Just what I needed to hear, the Weasel and the Badger’s corny declarations of love. Can someone please put an end to my misery?” Malfoy whined from his corner of the pub.
“What’s your problem, Malfoy? Pansy finally came to her senses and ditched ya?” Harry asked snidely.
“If you must know, Potter, we had a mutual break-up! Besides, I’d rather be alone than be with a member of the Weasel family,” he spat.
“Piss off, you tetchy little ferret! You wouldn’t know love if it came up to you and bit you in the arse,” Harry retorted.
As much as Ron hated Malfoy, he was thankful for the distraction, because it kept both Hermione and Harry occupied enough to forget about their wiring for a while and simultaneously gave Ginny the opportunity to send off a patronus.
The officials apparated into the pub soon after and it only took minutes before everyone was restored to healthy human forms. As the trio rushed to cover themselves up with their clothing, Spencer-Moon, the deputy head of the department was giving a teary-eyed Ginny a strict talking-to. Harry, still struggling to pull on his shirt, rushed to his wife’s aid, while Malfoy seemed to have disappeared into ether.
“Where’s Malfoy? Did you see him?” he asked Hermione, who had managed to get dressed in record time.
“Yes, I saw him rush out as soon as they transfigured him back,” she replied, handing him his jacket. “Oh, and yes.”
“Yes?”
“Yes.”
“Uhm…I’m sorry, did I miss something here?”
“Yes, I’ll marry you, you idiot!”
“Oh! Brilliant,” he replied, relieved.
“But just for the sake of it, ask me again. Properly. Not now, or even tomorrow. In the coming weeks. Surprise me.”
“Deal,” he grinned.
“And I don’t need expensive restaurants and flowers, Ron. All I need is you.”
“Hermione?”
“Mmm, I’m asleep, Ron. What is it?” came her sleepy voice.
They were lying in bed, limbs tangled and arms thrown haphazardly over each other.
“Nothing. It’s just- I think we forgot about the bartender.”
Interesting titbit: Turtles have better perception of shades of difference between colours and some have binocular vision.
Okay, I’ve decided that Ginny is a pregnant human.
Rating: T for swearing
Ron sighed. This was the last thing he needed today. Harry had been a complete and utter git. And now he’d gone and dragged Ron into the mess with him. They’d be lucky if Ginny didn’t skin them alive. Who would’ve thought that the Boy Who Lived was going to meet his demise at the hands of his wife?
He sighed again as Ginny unwittingly broke yet another glass in the poor bartender’s hands. The pregnancy had made her magic unpredictable. He remembered the years before Hogwarts, when she was too young to control her energy. Things would often break or transform when she was angry or upset. He recognised the same sort of electricity crackling about her now.
Ron nervously fingered the box in his jacket. If she didn’t calm down soon, she could cause some serious damage. But he was more worried about the way the night was turning out. He let Harry try and placate Ginny as he, once again, went over the plan in his mind.
He had always known that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with Hermione. And while it had taken him some time to realise it, he knew it was only a matter of time before he popped the question. And the time seemed right now. When he asked Harry to help, they decided not to tell Ginny because she couldn’t keep a secret from Hermione to save her life. Hermione would’ve the known the moment that Ginny did, and Ron just couldn’t have that.
So they had used their influence to book an entire French restaurant that Hermione had been wanting to try for the night; the plans had been long and elaborate. The restaurant owner, who was curiously enough, not remotely French (neither, it turned out, was the chef), had been only too happy to help Harry Potter’s friends. Ron had pulled out all the stops. Big red roses, expensive wine, a series of courses that weren’t even on the menu but he knew were her favourite dishes, the works. It was supposed to be special tonight. It was supposed to be perfect. And it would’ve gone without a hitch too, if it hadn’t been for Harry’s big mouth.
Although, to be fair, it had been an honest mistake. But he was in no mood to forgive Harry for letting it slip that he had been planning proposing to Hermione for a while now without telling his sister anything about his intentions. The fact that even Harry kept it a secret from her didn’t please Ginny in the slightest. She had been steadily getting angrier ever since, dredging up all past misdemeanors until she was red in the face and Ron could only thank his lucky stars that the pub was still fairly empty. In fact, the only other customer seemed to be a blond man at the bar, but he seemed to be too busy drowning himself in a pint of beer to pay them any attention.
Hermione would be here any minute and he had told her he would take her to a good restaurant to celebrate her promotion. It was the thought that Hermione would walk in mid-rant and figure out his plans that caused Ron to snap.
“Get over it Ginny! You would’ve gone blabbing to everyone and their mother, and you know it. I’m not even a little sorry that we didn’t tell you!”
Now, several things went wrong at this moment. Not only did Hermione chose that very moment to arrive at their table, it had been the absolute worst thing to say, because Ginny’s temper finally got the better of her, and her magic exploded in every direction. As a result, everyone was instantly, and inadvertently, signed up for the most bizarre night of their lives.
Ron was incredibly confused for a few moments. Everything seemed suddenly too big, the chair in which he sat had expanded around him. The world seemed brighter, were there more colours, he thought incredulously. Why did it look like he was viewing everything through omniculars? Was that a pool of his own clothes around him… no it couldn’t be! He was horrified, but quickly realized what had happened, having had some small experience in Ginny’s erratic bursts of magic when they were children.
Unfortunately, it seemed like the pregnancy had made it stronger and it was no longer just their pygmy puff that she was capable of transfiguring. He didn’t know what he had been morphed into, but sitting next to him, or standing, for the chair was in splinters now, was a huge ‘fridge’. Hermione had told him that muggles kept things in it to keep from spoiling. He could only assume that it was Harry who’d been transfigured into one.
He tried to see if he could move, and he discovered that he could scuttle to the edge of his seat. So, he was a living thing. That was reassuring. He couldn’t imagine what Harry must be feeling, but could faintly hear his groaning.
Somewhere above him, he could also hear a frantic female voice. Hermione. He tried to jump, straining himself to try and see above the table, but the best he could do was extend what he assumed was his neck. He was saved from contemplating a risky jump off the chair by the appearance of Ginny’s head. She nervously peered over the edge of the table, all traces of anger had disappeared from her face.
“Oh Merlin! Ron, is that you?”
“Yeah,” to his immense surprise, Ron found that he was able to talk quite normally.
“Oh thank god! I was afraid you disappeared. I’m so sor-“
“Where’s Hermione?” he interrupted her impatiently.
“Uh… I turned her into an eclectic stove, I think,” she replied apologetically.
“Electric,” came a feeble voice from above the table. “Electric stove. What’s going on?”
“What am I?” Ron asked Ginny urgently.
She made a sheepish face.
“A turtle.”
“Bloody hell, Ginny, you’ve really done it now!”
“I’m sorry, Ron! I’m so so sorry!”
“Just lift me up to the table, I want to be able to see Hermione,” he snapped.
Ginny reached down and picked him up in her hands and slowly lowered him onto the table. He quickly scampered onto the wooden tabletop towards a large flat rectangular object, which whimpered weakly. Harry was still groaning, and Ginny immediately turned her attention to the fridge.
“Hermione, are you okay?”
“Yes, mostly. Ron, I can hear you but can’t see you what’s going on? Why am I an electric stove?”
“I’m sorry, Hermione. You know how Ginny’s magic’s been a bit unpredictable lately?”
“Yes,” she replied uncertainly.
“Well, no one could’ve predicted this. She accidentally transfigured us….Harry is a fridge. And I’m apparently a turtle.”
No reply.
“Hermione?” he asked, concerned.
“I’m here. Just trying to digest that piece of information,” she replied.
“Right. Of course.” A few moments passed before she spoke again.
“Ron…”
“Yes, Hermione?”
“If I continue to be a stove for much longer, I don’t think I’ll survive for much longer.”
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s the magic in the air. It’s affecting my electrical insides. And you said Harry was a fridge… judging by his groaning, I’d say he’s in the same situation.”
“Fuck!” he exclaimed loudly.
“Ginny, you better fix this right now. Hermione says the magic is affecting her and Harry. They’re both electrical!”
“I- I don’t know how! I don’t know any spells for turning back muggle objects, or even animals!” she seemed near tears.
Sensing that he would have to take charge of the situation, he took a deep breath.
“Ginny, get yourself together! Is there any other human left in sight, or did you transfigure them all?”
“There wasn’t anyone here! Just the bartender and some bloke at the bar, and I can’t see them anywhere…wait…. I think that man is now a piece of cloth?”
“Fuck!” he said again.
“Language, Ron,” said Hermione, but there was no energy in her words. She had said it more out of habit than anything else.
Ginny came back to their table with a red face.
“The man is a curtain now,” she informed them.
“Ginny, okay, listen to me. Send a patronus to the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. Ask for Spencer-Moon, should be his shift right now. Get his team to come down her ASAP and fix this. You have to keep your wits about you, okay? Can you do that Ginny?”
“Y-yes,” she nodded shakily. “I can do that.”
As she set about trying to conjure a patronus, Harry grunted again.
“Hold on mate, it won’t be long now,” Ron said, encouragingly.
“That was a good pep-talk, Ron. Well done,” said Hermione. She had begun to sound sleepy.
“Just stay with me, Hermione. Keep talking to me. Please!” he said, alarmed.
“I’m fine. Just fine.”
“Shit. Gin, hurry up!”
“I’m trying!” she shouted, trying desperately to think of happy thoughts with tears pouring down her eyes.
“Ron, mate, I’m so sorry your night got ruined,” came Harry’s defeated voice. “Please don’t hate me after I’m dead.”
He sounded so dramatic; Ron would have found it downright comical if it wasn’t for the fact that both his best friends were in imminent danger of dying.
“Is that Potter’s voice I hear?” came a voice from the barstool at the other end of the room. “What in Merlin’s name is going on? Why is everything so dark?”
“Malfoy?” Ron exclaimed, dubiously.
“Great, the Weasel’s here too. And I thought the night couldn’t get any worse.”
“You were the man at the bar? Fuck! Talk about ruined nights!”
“Sorry, mate,” came Harry’s voice again. “I wrecked your proposal, didn’t I? I swear it was a mistake, Ron. Will you still come to my funeral?”
Fuck, Harry!
“Wait, what?” Hermione’s drowsiness seemed to have vanished.
“How much did you fucking drink, Harry?” he asked irritably.
“Ron? Were you going to…?”
He sighed.
“Yeah, I was going to ask you to marry me tonight, Hermione. I’m sorry I cocked up so bad.”
“Oh, Ron,” she sounded weepy.
“Please don’t cry, Hermione! I swear I had a proper planned proposal. I was going to take you to that French restaurant you wanted to check out, and I even have a ring and everything!”
“Oh Ron, I don’t need all that. I love you!”
“Blegh. Just what I needed to hear, the Weasel and the Badger’s corny declarations of love. Can someone please put an end to my misery?” Malfoy whined from his corner of the pub.
“What’s your problem, Malfoy? Pansy finally came to her senses and ditched ya?” Harry asked snidely.
“If you must know, Potter, we had a mutual break-up! Besides, I’d rather be alone than be with a member of the Weasel family,” he spat.
“Piss off, you tetchy little ferret! You wouldn’t know love if it came up to you and bit you in the arse,” Harry retorted.
As much as Ron hated Malfoy, he was thankful for the distraction, because it kept both Hermione and Harry occupied enough to forget about their wiring for a while and simultaneously gave Ginny the opportunity to send off a patronus.
The officials apparated into the pub soon after and it only took minutes before everyone was restored to healthy human forms. As the trio rushed to cover themselves up with their clothing, Spencer-Moon, the deputy head of the department was giving a teary-eyed Ginny a strict talking-to. Harry, still struggling to pull on his shirt, rushed to his wife’s aid, while Malfoy seemed to have disappeared into ether.
“Where’s Malfoy? Did you see him?” he asked Hermione, who had managed to get dressed in record time.
“Yes, I saw him rush out as soon as they transfigured him back,” she replied, handing him his jacket. “Oh, and yes.”
“Yes?”
“Yes.”
“Uhm…I’m sorry, did I miss something here?”
“Yes, I’ll marry you, you idiot!”
“Oh! Brilliant,” he replied, relieved.
“But just for the sake of it, ask me again. Properly. Not now, or even tomorrow. In the coming weeks. Surprise me.”
“Deal,” he grinned.
“And I don’t need expensive restaurants and flowers, Ron. All I need is you.”
“Hermione?”
“Mmm, I’m asleep, Ron. What is it?” came her sleepy voice.
They were lying in bed, limbs tangled and arms thrown haphazardly over each other.
“Nothing. It’s just- I think we forgot about the bartender.”
Interesting titbit: Turtles have better perception of shades of difference between colours and some have binocular vision.