Chaos Rising |BOOK 2| Harry Potter x PJO |Alexandra Marine|

NICO DI ANGELO

(Yes, I was going to take Potions, Percy.)

"Everyone all right?" said Molly. "Got your robes? Right then, we can pop in at the Apothecary and Eeylops on the way to Fred and George's... stick close, now..."

With Molly checking her watch every minute or so, we headed farther along the street in search of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, the joke shop run by Fred and George.

"We really haven't got too long," she said. "So we'll just have a quick look around and then back to the car. We must be close, that's number ninety-two... ninety-four..."

"Whoa," said Ron, stopping in his tracks.

Set against the dull, poster-muffled shop Fronts around them, Fred and Georges windows hit the eye like a firework display. Casual passersby were looking back over their shoulders at the windows, and a few rather stunned-looking people had actually come to a halt, transfixed. The right-hand window was covered with a gigantic poster, purple like those of the Ministry, but emblazoned with flashing yellow letters:

Why Are You Worrying About You-Know-Who?

You SHOULD Be Worrying About

U-NO-POO--

the Constipation Sensation That's Gripping the Nation!

"They'll be murdered in their beds!" Molly whispered.

"No they won't!" said Ron, who, like Harry, was laughing. "This is brilliant!"

The shop was packed with customers. I stared around, looking up at the boxes piled to the ceiling: here were the Skiving Snackboxes that the twins had perfected during their last, unfinished year at Hogwarts; the Nosebleed Nougat was most popular, with only one battered box left on the shelf. There were bins full of trick wands, the cheapest merely turning into rubber chickens or pairs of briefs when waved, the most expensive beating the unwary user around the head and neck, and boxes of quills, which came in Self-Inking, Spell-Checking, and Smart-Answer varieties. 

"Patented Daydream Charms," Hermione had managed to squeeze through to a large display near the counter and was reading the information on the back of a box bearing a highly colored picture of a handsome youth and a swooning girl who were standing on the deck of a pirate ship. "One simple incantation and you will enter a top-quality, highly realistic, thirty-minute daydream, easy to fit into the average school lesson and virtually undetectable (side effects include vacant expression and minor drooling). Not for sale to under-sixteens. You know," said Hermione, looking up at Harry, "that really is extraordinary magic!"

"For that, Hermione," said a voice behind them, "you can have one for free."

A beaming Fred stood before us, wearing a set of magenta robes that clashed magnificently with his flaming hair.

"How are you, Harry?" They shook hands. "And what's happened to your eye, Hermione?"

"Your punching telescope," she said ruefully.

"Oh blimey, I forgot about those," said Fred. "Here..."

He pulled a tub out of his pocket and handed it to her; she unscrewed it gingerly to reveal a thick yellow paste.

"Just dab it on, that bruise'll be gone within the hour," said Fred. "We had to find a decent bruise-remover. We're testing most of our products on ourselves."

Hermione looked nervous. "It is safe, isn't it?" she asked.

"Course it is," said Fred bracingly. "Come on, Harry, I'll give you a tour."

"Edible Dark Marks--They'll Make Anyone Sick," Percy read, frowning. "Good use of the situation, George."

***