Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned
by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury
Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No
money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
***
Molly Weasley
walked briskly past the tree and flower-bush lined pathways towards St.
Mungo’s, clutching Ginny’s hand tightly and checking over her shoulder
every so often to make sure that Ron was still trailing behind them. She
hated these annual visits. Last year had been nightmarish enough, but
at least it hadn’t been Ginny’s turn yet. Molly glanced down at her six-year
old girl.
Ginny’s face was
unnaturally pale and her lips were pressed tightly together. Her feet
dragged and she whimpered occasionally, jumping every time a doctor passed
them on the pathway. Molly had caught the twins whispering something into
her ear just before they’d left, and Ginny had been as twitchy as a rabbit
ever since. Molly sighed inwardly; that would teach her to leave Ginny
alone with Fred and George for about three seconds.
Molly looked back
to check on Ron, only to realize that her youngest boy had sat down on
the middle of the stone payment, removed his shoe, and was very intently
fiddling with a shoelace. She let out a grunt of exasperation; she was
late enough for the appointment already, and spun on her heel, striding
quickly towards her son. Ginny seemed very eager to keep apace with her,
or at least go as far away as possible from the hospital.
Ron looked up
from his activity to notice Molly and Ginny heading towards him. He grinned
disarmingly, displaying his lack of two front teeth with pride. “Hi Mum!
Can we go now?” he enquired.
Ginny tugged on
her mother’s robes, looking up at her pleadingly, as if to second Ron’s
suggestion. Molly sighed.
“We haven’t even
gone in Ron,” she explained. “We have to go in, do our business, and then
go home.”
“Oh,” frowned
Ron, taking in this piece of information. “All right then.” He went back
to studying his shoelace.
Molly shifted
her handbag to a more comfortable position on her shoulder. “Aren’t you
going to come in with me?” she queried, trying to sound calm.
Ron grinned again.
“My shoelace came undone. I have to fix it.”
Molly let go of
Ginny’s hand, knelt down beside Ron, grabbed his shoe, stuck his foot
into it, and tied the worn shoelaces securely and efficiently. She took
hold of his hand and heaved him up from the stone pavement, ignoring his
cries of protest. She whirled around and caught Ginny’s hand as well before
her daughter could try to surreptiously slip away.
Her two children
started to groan and whine. It was a peculiar sound. Ron and Ginny seemed
to be so in sync with each other that when Ron’s lament stopped, Ginny’s
sighs would begin. There would be the beat of trainers scuffing the ground,
interspersed with a few whimpers. A strangled cacophony that somehow had
a rhythm to it. Molly expertly ignored the duet until she reached the
imposing stone walls of St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and
Injuries.
“Now look,” she
said, facing them, “we’re going to be in here for an hour at most. I want
the both of you to be at your best behaviour, understand? No whines,
no moaning, no complaining. If you behave properly I might get you a couple
of Chocolate Frogs from the Apothecary. If you make any sort of trouble,
no dessert for you tonight. I’m serious. Do I make myself clear?”
Molly looked very
imposing indeed.
Ron and Ginny
glanced at each other haplessly, but nodded all the same. Molly breathed
an inward sigh of relief, and shepherded Ron and Ginny into the hospital.
Last year, she’d ended up owing Fred and George a pair of toy broomsticks,
and Ron a Chudley Cannons poster, as bribes for not becoming hysterical.
Maybe if she didn’t accept any nonsense from Ron and Ginny this year,
the whole ordeal would be over with quickly and (hopefully) quietly.
She had no idea
what she was in for.
*
Molly flipped
aimlessly through an old copy of Witch Weekly as she waited for
their turn with Dr. Krevon. She needn’t have been so worried about arriving
late, apparently the doctor had just returned from lunch. His receptionist,
who looked barely older than nineteen, sat back in her chair with her
feet propped up on the table, expertly blowing Drooble’s Best Blowing
Gum and listening intently to the weekly soap on the Wireless Wizarding
Network- As the Cauldron Bubbles.
“I found you
in bed with my mother!” The actress’s plaintive mewls drifted towards
Molly from the radio. “What kind of a father are you?”
Molly rolled her
eyes and tried to concentrate on a recipe for Peppermint Humbugs.
Ginny swung her
legs back and forth. Ron examined a piece of snot he had scraped off the
inside of his nostril. It really was a work of art. He was sure that no
other kid had ever found a piece of snot that looked so very interesting.
He showed it to Ginny, who recoiled and scowled at him. Ron grinned sinisterly,
his missing teeth making him look like a Halloween pumpkin, and shoved
the artefact back into his nose.
Ginny wondered
when she’d lose her teeth. Ron had already lost two, and Fred had lost
three while George had lost five! Ginny remembered how impressed
she had been when George had fearlessly yanked the first tooth he had
lost from his gums, and held it up, the white little tooth stained red
with blood, for all the world to see. He had refused to let it go for
days, treasuring it in a small glass jar Mum had given him, until finally
Percy had taken charge and thrown it out, saying that it was… Ginny struggled
to remember the word… unsanitary. Ginny didn’t understand what
Percy meant by that, but it was funny to see his spectacles fly away during
dinner.
Ginny hugged herself
as she swung her legs. It was getting cold in the room. She didn’t like
this place, with the high ceiling and the stone walls and the funny window
so high in the ceiling and the people screaming in odd rooms. Fred and
George had been right; this had to be the place where they… She
shivered, not wanting to think about it. She sneaked a glance at Ron.
He was looking rather nervous as well. Oh no. Ginny swung her legs
back and forth with increased urgency.
Molly sighed and
checked her watch. Arthur had had it specially designed for her birthday,
a few years ago. It was a miniature replica of the grandfather clock in
the kitchen, custom designed for Molly’s needs, and right now it was indicating
that it was time to do the laundry and to check up on what the twins were
up to. Molly wished again that the whole ordeal would be over soon. Ron
and Ginny were getting very fidgety indeed.
The small owl
on the receptionist’s desk hooted loudly just then, startling Molly and
the kids. “Mrs. Weasley?” the receptionist said, popping her gum and not
tearing her eyes away from the Wireless, “You’re (pop) up next.”
Molly heaved a
sigh of relief and gathered up her purse, muttering at Ron to get his
finger out of his nose. The door to Dr. Krevon’s office swung open and
a rather dazed looking young man stumbled out. “And don’t worry about
the blue saliva!” called a voice from inside. “It’s just a little side-effect.”
Molly quickly
ushered Ron and Ginny into the office when she caught them staring at
the patient in fascination (he was starting to drool), and greeted the
old doctor. “Good aftern-”
“Weasleys!” shrieked
Dr. Krevon, growing rapidly pale.
“Nice to see you
again too, Doctor,” Molly muttered, all the while clutching Ginny’s hand
with a firm grip.
“MUM!”
Ron roared. “You brought us to HIM? AGAIN?”
The seven-year
old spun around faster than a drunk hag and made straight for the door-
which was suddenly blocked by the receptionist, who, Molly noticed, seemed
a lot bigger and sturdier now that she was out from behind the desk, plus
a lot more imposing with the ridiculous gum out of her mouth.
“Not so fast there,
young man,” she commanded, and glanced at Dr. Krevon. “Reinforcements?”
“Yes, please,”
said the old man, mopping his bald head with a tiny handkerchief.
“Orderlies, get
into position! We’ve got a couple of Weasleys on our hands!” barked the
receptionist.
“Reinforcements?”
queried Molly, a little alarmed. “Now really, Doctor, do you think that’s
necessary?”
“Mrs. Weasley,
with all due respect, I am far too old to survive another encounter with
your family by myself. You understand that, don’t you?” asked Dr. Krevon,
now strapping something that looked suspiciously like a Viking helmet
to his head.
“But really Doctor,
the twins don’t need to be inoculated this year, and so it’s just Ron
and Ginny. Ron might be a little… reluctant,” said Molly watching Ron
trying the best he could to get past the receptionist, “but I assure you
that Ginny is very well-behaved and-”
She was cut short
by a shrill, ear-piercing shriek. “Bubotuber pus!” cried Ginny, pointing
wildly at the various potions nestled along the shelves in the office.
“He’s going to give me Bubotuber pus! Fred was right!”
And with one almighty
wrench, Ginny freed herself from Molly’s grip and slipped easily out of
the office underneath the receptionist’s legs. Ron cheered, the receptionist
cursed, Molly gasped and the old Doctor cowered.
“That’s it, Ginny!”
Ron yelled, trying to shove the furious Receptionist aside. “Run!”
“Ron!”
Molly admonished, striding forward and grabbing him by his collar. She
sighed wearily and turned to the Receptionist. “Will you please search
for Ginny? She couldn’t have gone far.”
The girl looked
over her shoulder. “Not to worry, Mrs. Weasley,” she said in a clipped
tone.
Molly peered over
the girl’s shoulder and cried out in indignation as she saw a couple of
burly male nurses march towards them, one of them having slung a kicking
and screaming Ginny over his shoulder. “That’s my daughter you’re
carrying like a sack of potatoes!” Molly cried.
“You tell ‘em,
Mum!” Ron yelled, and before she knew it, had snuck out of her grasp and
was shooting towards the door like a runaway Bludger. Luckily, the Receptionist
was ready for this, and caught his arm firmly before he could escape.
Ron let out a
strangled yell, and this, interspersed with Ginny’s loud wails, made Molly
massage her temple to ease the frustration she felt. The other nurse literally
picked Ron up off the ground and set him down securely in a large chair,
holding on to him firmly.
“Mum!” Ron bellowed.
“Tell him to let go of me! Gerroff, you,” he addressed the offender directly.
“Not until you
behave yourself,” said Molly sternly. Ignoring Ron’s protests, she turned
to Ginny, who had also been set down (albeit a bit more gently) in another
chair at the other end of the room. Ginny was wailing bitterly but fortunately
didn’t seem to be making any immediate move to flee. Stroking her daughter’s
hair absently, Molly whispered to Dr. Krevon “I think it’s better if Ron
gets his dose first.”
Unfortunately,
Ron overheard. “No way!” he yelled. “I’m not drinking that stuff!
Not again! It burns,” he declared with finality.
Ginny’s wails
became louder.
Molly frowned
at Ron. “Now look what you’ve done, you’ve upset your sister.”
“No I haven’t!”
At that moment
Dr. Krevon came towards Ron nervously, clutching a beaker full of bubbling
green liquid. Behind him, the receptionist staggered under the weight
of a small cauldron labelled “Potion #1040”, almost spilling over with
the same green brew. Molly remembered how the Doctor had lost a month’s
supply of that potion the last time she’d visited, courtesy of Fred and
George. He obviously wasn’t taking any chances this year.
“Now Ron,” said
Dr. Krevon softly. “You just have to drink this little potion, and you’ll
never get the Quiffles, the Flea-Flu or Dragon-Pox in your life. You never
need come back here again if you drink!” said the Doctor, looking immensely
grateful.
The two nurses
were now pinning Ron securely to his seat, rendering his desperate efforts
towards freedom futile. “I’m not drinking that! It’s horrible!”
“Now Ron… if you
would just… keep… still…” Dr. Krevon struggled to manoeuvre the beaker
towards the boy without being kicked in the face. Ginny meanwhile, had
stopped crying and was instead watching the proceedings with fascination.
With one well-aimed
jerk, Ron’s foot make contact with the beaker. It went sailing through
the air and out the window, potion spraying out of it as it soared. Ginny
shrieked, Ron cheered, the receptionist scowled and Molly bristled.
“Ron!” she
scolded, enraged.
“I’m never drinking
that! Not even if you tie me up and hex me and stuff it down my throat
and-”
“Oh for Merlin’s
sake!” cried out the Receptionist, who apparently had had enough.
She set the cauldron down hard on the Doctor’s table, whipped out her
wand and pointed it at Ron, shouting “Lasesco!”
Ron immediately
went lax, his limbs slackening and his eyes going unfocused.
“A sedative charm,”
she explained.
Dr. Krevon, Molly
and the two burly nurses cried out in unison “Why didn’t you do that
in the first place?”
The receptionist
shrugged, embarrassed.
“I’m really getting
too old for this,” the Doctor sighed. He conjured up another beaker and
filled it with potion from the cauldron. He nodded towards the Receptionist.
“You deal with the boy now.”
The immunizing
potion in hand, Dr. Krevon made his way towards Molly and Ginny. He stooped
down a little to face Ginny and said, “Well, I guess it’s your turn now,
young lady.”
Ginny’s eyes grew
as wide as saucer, her pupils dilating and her face rapidly becoming pale.
“I don’t want to,” she whispered.
“Ginny, it’s just
a potion. It’s for your own good. The next time you take it will be one
year from now,” said Molly, in what she hoped was a comforting tone of
voice.
“What’s wrong
with Ron?” Ginny whispered again.
“Ron’s just… a
little relaxed, sweetie. Now be a good girl and drink the potion.”
“Fred said-”
“Don’t you know
better than to believe everything he says? I’m going to deal with the
little storyteller the moment we get home, all right? Now drink the potion,
it’s good for you.”
Ginny pressed
her lips together tightly.
From the other
end of the room, one of the nurses yelled, “Blimey, I think the sedative
charm’s wearing off!”
Dr. Krevon and
Molly whirled around, just as the other nurse said, “Oh, no wait, he’s
still out.”
The two then turned
back to face… an empty chair.
“Ginny?” Molly
called out in bewilderment.
“There she goes!”
yelled the Receptionist pointing towards the open door at a streak of
red.
As the Receptionist
and the three orderlies raced after her youngest child, Ron stared blankly
and Dr. Krevon muttered about his lack of youth, Molly sank into the newly
vacated chair with a groan. Maybe if she was lucky the clinic wouldn’t
charge for ‘psychological damage’ this time.
*
Molly walked down
Diagon Alley, holding on to Ron with one hand (the boy was still in a
mini-stupor) and lugging a whole lot of packages in the other. Ginny had
pretty much cleaned out the entire toy store. The shopkeeper was delighted-
he hadn’t had so much business from the Weasleys in years. Ginny skipped
along besides her, hugging her new stuffed unicorn, christened ‘Mr. Bombadil’,
to her chest and cheerfully prattling about how she was going to scare
Charlie with her new fake fangs when he came home for Christmas.
After Ginny had
finally been caught and brought back to Dr. Krevon’s office, she worked
up such hysteria that Molly promised her a shopping spree in her favourite
toy store if she drank the potion. The bribe had worked beautifully, as
bribes always did with her children. But, Molly mused, as Ginny insisted
on a singing cake for dessert that night, why on earth had Ginny been
afraid of being poisoned? Even when Ron was kicking up a tantrum, he certainly
wasn’t afraid for his life.
“And could we
get some Acid Pops for Fred and George, Mum?” Ginny chirped. “Because
they were so nice to me today and so sorry that I was going to go and
visit a bad Wizard like the Doctor and…”
Molly resolved
to spend some quality time with the twins later that day.
*
