The Spinner's Key - Weasley's Wizard Wheezes
- Location
- some random college
[x] Be honest.
You're not a person who lies much. Your parents didn't beat it into you or anything -- you've just never seen the point of being dishonest. If you lie about completing your homework, Mum'll just find out in a few hours when she asks to grade it anyway. If you lie about breaking a vase, Dad'll go ask Maggie if she did it, and she'll have a much more believable story than whatever you thought up. Either way, you'll be in more trouble for telling the lie in the first place. Why even bother?
You've thought this way for more or less your whole life, and have always told your parents the truth, to the best of your ability. So you're a bit surprised when you find yourself hesitating to answer Dad's question.
Really, you have no reason to hide the book from Dad. The Dark Arts are a taboo subject in Britain, it's true, but Dad went to Durmstrang. He studied the Dark Arts, and let you take the first year exam in the subject, though you knew nothing about it and didn't pass. Surely he would understand that you just want to learn something they will never teach you at school. Besides, if he didn't want you to spend your allowance on something you want, why even give it to you in the first place?
There's absolutely no need to lie -- but you still feel a nervous lump in your throat as you speak.
"Yeah, I spent it while I was in Flourish and Blotts," you say. You fish around in your giant pockets for the black book, then pull it out. "I bought this book."
"Really now," he says, idly extending his arm to you. "Let me have a look."
You pause for a split second before sliding the book into his hand, holding your breath as you wait for his reaction. There's no way he's going to be angry...right?
The trolley comes to a screeching halt. Dad's stopped dead in his tracks.
"Astrid," he hisses, barely audible above the noise of the crowd. "What were you thinking?"
He pivots around to look at you, eyes ablaze. Gripping the spine so tightly his knuckles turn white, he shoves the book in your face.
"Do you have any idea what's in this book, young lady?" he says, and your mouth opens and shuts several times in astonishment before you can find the words to reply.
"I -- well, it's just a book about the Dark Arts, isn't it?" you stutter. You try to meet his gaze, but you can't stand it when either of your parents are angry with you, so you look down instead, at the grey pavement and the colorful hems and boots of people passing you by. You really hope no one's staring.
"Just a book on the Dark Arts?" Dad repeats, incredulous. "Do you really think a book about forbidden magic -- with an unknown author -- is just anything?"
You somehow miscalculated. Dad is very upset about this book. You just can't for the life of you understand why.
"I was just...I was only curious," you mumble, matching the hushed tone of your father. It's clear he doesn't want to draw too much attention, but that's a bit hard to do when you're standing in a street of shops in the middle of the afternoon. "I don't want to do anything bad, Dad. I promise. There aren't even any spells in there."
"That doesn't matter," he says. "Not in a place like Britain. Think, Astrid. What would people think if they saw you reading this? What would your professors think? They're not going to care that there aren't any spells, or that you're only curious. They're going to see a girl reading a book about the Dark Arts, and they're going to assume the worst." He places a hand on your shoulder to make you look at him. "I've seen it happen. And it can have terrible consequences."
You blink away the stinging behind your eyes.
"I'm sorry," you whisper. "I wanted to learn more. I wanted to understand what everyone's so afraid of. That's all." You look him in the eye once again. "You learned the Dark Arts, didn't you?"
Dad's face contorts into some unreadable frown, not speaking for several moments.
"We'll discuss this when we get home," he finally says, straightening to his full height. "I will keep this with me until then." He slips the book into his own pocket, and you can only watch as your seven galleon purchase disappears from your sight. "Come. We shouldn't waste any more time."
With that, he turns back around and continues pushing the trolley. Around you, you catch people glancing at you and whispering -- not terribly surprising, since you did stop in the middle of a street to have an argument. Maggie looks at you with sympathy, and to your immense relief, doesn't say anything. As sisters, you know when to stay out of each other's business. And thank goodness for it.
You glumly follow your father to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, disheartened and confused.
You're not sure which you hear first: the clattering of the doorbell as you enter the store, the cheery word of welcome from the counter, or the high-pitched war cry that comes at you out of nowhere.
"Serpensortia!!"
Your heart leaps into your throat, and without thinking, you dart to the side. Something whizzes past your ear, but before you can register what's happening, Maggie lets out a bloodcurdling howl of fear. Eyes wide, you whip your head around -- and see your sister fallen to the ground, wrestling with a hissing green snake.
"Maggie!"
You race forward without thinking, propelled by the adrenaline of terror. Maggie continues to scream, flailing to get the scaly thing off her -- she's so afraid of snakes -- there's no possible way she can fight it off alone, tiny and blinded by panic. You have to help her. You're the only one who can. You don't know how, but you have to do something. Maybe -- maybe there's a spell --
You pull your wand out of your pocket and prepare to fling something, anything, but then you notice. The snake's stopped struggling.
Actually, no. The snake is shrinking, receding more and more into itself until all that remains is an emerald rod with a drawing of a serpent coiled around it.
You blink twice. That wasn't an attack. That was a prank.
"FRED GIDEON WEASLEY!"
A furious shout echoes through the empty store, followed soon after by stomping footsteps. A man with bright red hair -- the man you briefly saw at the counter -- comes into view. With a sigh bordering on a growl, he reaches into a bin of disappearing galleons and pulls a tiny boy out by the arm.
"For the last bloody time, Fred! What have I told you about scaring customers?" he says. The boy wriggles in protest, shaking stray galleons from his curly hair.
"I didn't mean to scare her, honest! They wanted me to--"
"I don't care what you meant!" The man lifts his captive completely out of the bin and puts him on the ground. "You don't throw trick snakes at people. Especially little girls."
The little boy -- Fred, apparently -- looks at the ground. For what it's worth, he does look contrite. Not that that helps at all. Trick snake or not, Maggie's begun to bawl behind you, and Dad all but sprints in from parking the trolley.
"What's going on?" he says, frantic, wand at the ready. Seems he had the same instinct you did. "I heard screaming..." He trails off as he hears the terrified sobs beneath him, and at last he spies your sister, slowly pushing herself back to her feet. "Bozhe moy -- Maggie!"
The red-haired man steps forward.
"I'm so sorry, sir. My nephew here thought it'd be hilarious to throw a trick snake when they came in," he says, pushing Fred forward as he does. "Apologize to them, Fred, or you're spending the rest of the summer at Uncle Percy's. I bloody well mean it."
The boy looks at your father, bearing down on him with protective indignation, and quickly looks at the floor again. Maggie runs into Dad's arms and buries her head in his shoulder as he leans down.
"Sorry," he mumbles.
"Louder. And say what for," the shopowner says sharply.
"Sorry I threw a trick snake at you," he says. Maggie doesn't even look at him, and your dad remains implacable.
"Good. Now go to your room."
Fred looks guiltily at the three of you, then slowly walks up some nearby stairs. The man watches him go, then directs his attention back to Dad.
"Again, really sorry, sir. Little devil's been at it all summer," he says.
"Then perhaps," Dad begins, standing up slowly, "you should keep a closer watch on your children."
The shopowner stiffens, a bit of irritation flaring across his face.
"Maybe you don't have the experience, sir, but it's a bit of a task to man a shop and babysit a rowdy six-year-old at the same time," he shoots back, and you can't help but wince. You really hope Dad doesn't get into another fight today. He must hope so too, because he just sighs, shakes his head, and turns to you.
"I'm going to go outside and calm Maggie down. Stay in here," he says. "And, for the love of Merlin, please use your good judgment."
He's still on about you buying that book, then. You'd roll your eyes, if you didn't think it would get you grounded for the rest of the summer.
"I will, Dad. Don't worry."
He gives you a final, serious look, then walks out the door with Maggie, who's still crying. The door clatters shut again, and you're alone with red-haired man your father nearly had a row with. Might not be a bad idea to patch that up on his behalf.
"I'm sorry about my dad," you say, turning away from the door. "I think shopping puts him in a bad mood."
Thankfully, the man seems to relax, letting out a low chuckle that sets you more at ease.
"Can't say I blame him. I'd yell 'til I was blue in the face if someone made my daughter cry like that," he says. "That's your sister, right?"
You nod -- and then a slow look of recognition dawns over his face, followed by an amused grin.
"I thought you looked familiar," he says. "Weren't you the little girls who bought eighty-seven Musical Mines a few years back?"
Wait, he remembers that?
"Yes," you say, blushing fiercely. "Was it really that memorable?"
"Memorable?" He laughs. "Bloody hilarious is what it was. We never sold so many at once -- still haven't, actually. You put them to good use, I hope?"
"You...could say that," you reply. Was it really eighty-seven Mines? You and Maggie just grabbed as many as you could carry before Dad came back. You didn't think there were that many, and you certainly didn't think you two broke some kind of record. Still, it seems it endeared you to the shopowner, who gives you a pat on the back at your answer.
"Brilliant," he says. "Well, feel free to have a look around. We're having a sale on Edible Parchment and Sugar Ink for Hogwarts students, and half off of all Skiving Snackboxes if you can guess the secret code." He starts to walk back toward the cash register. "And I'll give you a free box of Bertie Bott's. To cheer up your dad and your sister a bit."
You nearly gag -- you have had possibly the worst luck in history when it comes to Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans -- but you're not one to turn down free candy. You smile, then head off into the shelves. Even if you can't buy anything, you might as well entertain yourself by browsing for a bit.
Five minutes later, the doorbell clangs again. You peek your head out from behind a stack of vanishing hats, expecting it to be your father and Maggie again. Instead, you see a man in an Auror uniform, with round glasses and messy black hair. And he must be in a hurry, because he's walking fast. You tilt your head to one side. It's a bit funny to see an Auror in a joke shop, of all places. Maybe someone reported Maggie's screaming?
"Oh! Hello, Harry," the shopowner says, pleasantly surprised. "Didn't expect to see you today."
"Hi, Ron." The Auror stops at the counter. "Got a minute to talk?"
"'Bout what?" Ron replies. He stops arranging the display case and slides it shut. "Store's not exactly bursting today, but George is off, and I got a few customers wandering about."
The man named Harry looks over both his shoulders, then leans forward and lowers his voice. You can't hear him any longer. Shrugging, you're about to walk away when you see Ron's face go white.
"Let's go to the back," he says, opening a partition in the counter to let the Auror through. The two of them walk through a brown door and leave the shop unattended.
Well. That's strange.
You stare after them a bit, wondering just what is going on, when you hear some more voices in the newly quieted store.
"...can't believe how loud she screamed. What an absolute pansy."
"Yeah. Like she's never seen a trick snake before."
"Girls are just like that. Can't handle a bit of fright without crying."
The voice -- male -- crudely imitates the sound of crying, and the other voice (also male) dissolves into laughter.
"Good thinking with the curse. I was afraid the kid would forget."
...those pricks. They're the ones who really scared Maggie, not that little kid. And now they're laughing about it, as though scaring a nine-year-old out of her mind is the funniest thing in the world. Oh, you'd like to give them a piece of your mind, that's for sure. They're just lucky you didn't buy that book of hexes earlier, because they've earned themselves some punishment, as far as you're concerned.
Still, your father said to use your good judgment. There may be better things to do than seek revenge on the bullies.
[ ] Deal with the bullies
---[ ] By marching up and yelling at them.
---[ ] By talking to them and showing them you don't care about their prank.
---[ ] By openly using a prank item on them.
---[ ] By secretly using a prank item on them.
---[ ] By openly casting a spell on them. (Specify spell)
---[ ] By secretly casting a spell on them. (Specify spell)
[ ] Forget the bullies. Try and eavesdrop on the shopowner and the Auror instead. Something might be happening.
[ ] Browse the shop some more. Neither of these things are your business, and you'd like to try and figure out the secret code for the Skiving Snackboxes.
[ ] Leave the shop. There's no point in staying, since you have no money to spend, and you figure Dad and Maggie would like to get home.
[ ] Write-in
You're not a person who lies much. Your parents didn't beat it into you or anything -- you've just never seen the point of being dishonest. If you lie about completing your homework, Mum'll just find out in a few hours when she asks to grade it anyway. If you lie about breaking a vase, Dad'll go ask Maggie if she did it, and she'll have a much more believable story than whatever you thought up. Either way, you'll be in more trouble for telling the lie in the first place. Why even bother?
You've thought this way for more or less your whole life, and have always told your parents the truth, to the best of your ability. So you're a bit surprised when you find yourself hesitating to answer Dad's question.
Really, you have no reason to hide the book from Dad. The Dark Arts are a taboo subject in Britain, it's true, but Dad went to Durmstrang. He studied the Dark Arts, and let you take the first year exam in the subject, though you knew nothing about it and didn't pass. Surely he would understand that you just want to learn something they will never teach you at school. Besides, if he didn't want you to spend your allowance on something you want, why even give it to you in the first place?
There's absolutely no need to lie -- but you still feel a nervous lump in your throat as you speak.
"Yeah, I spent it while I was in Flourish and Blotts," you say. You fish around in your giant pockets for the black book, then pull it out. "I bought this book."
"Really now," he says, idly extending his arm to you. "Let me have a look."
You pause for a split second before sliding the book into his hand, holding your breath as you wait for his reaction. There's no way he's going to be angry...right?
The trolley comes to a screeching halt. Dad's stopped dead in his tracks.
"Astrid," he hisses, barely audible above the noise of the crowd. "What were you thinking?"
He pivots around to look at you, eyes ablaze. Gripping the spine so tightly his knuckles turn white, he shoves the book in your face.
"Do you have any idea what's in this book, young lady?" he says, and your mouth opens and shuts several times in astonishment before you can find the words to reply.
"I -- well, it's just a book about the Dark Arts, isn't it?" you stutter. You try to meet his gaze, but you can't stand it when either of your parents are angry with you, so you look down instead, at the grey pavement and the colorful hems and boots of people passing you by. You really hope no one's staring.
"Just a book on the Dark Arts?" Dad repeats, incredulous. "Do you really think a book about forbidden magic -- with an unknown author -- is just anything?"
You somehow miscalculated. Dad is very upset about this book. You just can't for the life of you understand why.
"I was just...I was only curious," you mumble, matching the hushed tone of your father. It's clear he doesn't want to draw too much attention, but that's a bit hard to do when you're standing in a street of shops in the middle of the afternoon. "I don't want to do anything bad, Dad. I promise. There aren't even any spells in there."
"That doesn't matter," he says. "Not in a place like Britain. Think, Astrid. What would people think if they saw you reading this? What would your professors think? They're not going to care that there aren't any spells, or that you're only curious. They're going to see a girl reading a book about the Dark Arts, and they're going to assume the worst." He places a hand on your shoulder to make you look at him. "I've seen it happen. And it can have terrible consequences."
You blink away the stinging behind your eyes.
"I'm sorry," you whisper. "I wanted to learn more. I wanted to understand what everyone's so afraid of. That's all." You look him in the eye once again. "You learned the Dark Arts, didn't you?"
Dad's face contorts into some unreadable frown, not speaking for several moments.
"We'll discuss this when we get home," he finally says, straightening to his full height. "I will keep this with me until then." He slips the book into his own pocket, and you can only watch as your seven galleon purchase disappears from your sight. "Come. We shouldn't waste any more time."
With that, he turns back around and continues pushing the trolley. Around you, you catch people glancing at you and whispering -- not terribly surprising, since you did stop in the middle of a street to have an argument. Maggie looks at you with sympathy, and to your immense relief, doesn't say anything. As sisters, you know when to stay out of each other's business. And thank goodness for it.
You glumly follow your father to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, disheartened and confused.
You're not sure which you hear first: the clattering of the doorbell as you enter the store, the cheery word of welcome from the counter, or the high-pitched war cry that comes at you out of nowhere.
"Serpensortia!!"
Your heart leaps into your throat, and without thinking, you dart to the side. Something whizzes past your ear, but before you can register what's happening, Maggie lets out a bloodcurdling howl of fear. Eyes wide, you whip your head around -- and see your sister fallen to the ground, wrestling with a hissing green snake.
"Maggie!"
You race forward without thinking, propelled by the adrenaline of terror. Maggie continues to scream, flailing to get the scaly thing off her -- she's so afraid of snakes -- there's no possible way she can fight it off alone, tiny and blinded by panic. You have to help her. You're the only one who can. You don't know how, but you have to do something. Maybe -- maybe there's a spell --
You pull your wand out of your pocket and prepare to fling something, anything, but then you notice. The snake's stopped struggling.
Actually, no. The snake is shrinking, receding more and more into itself until all that remains is an emerald rod with a drawing of a serpent coiled around it.
You blink twice. That wasn't an attack. That was a prank.
"FRED GIDEON WEASLEY!"
A furious shout echoes through the empty store, followed soon after by stomping footsteps. A man with bright red hair -- the man you briefly saw at the counter -- comes into view. With a sigh bordering on a growl, he reaches into a bin of disappearing galleons and pulls a tiny boy out by the arm.
"For the last bloody time, Fred! What have I told you about scaring customers?" he says. The boy wriggles in protest, shaking stray galleons from his curly hair.
"I didn't mean to scare her, honest! They wanted me to--"
"I don't care what you meant!" The man lifts his captive completely out of the bin and puts him on the ground. "You don't throw trick snakes at people. Especially little girls."
The little boy -- Fred, apparently -- looks at the ground. For what it's worth, he does look contrite. Not that that helps at all. Trick snake or not, Maggie's begun to bawl behind you, and Dad all but sprints in from parking the trolley.
"What's going on?" he says, frantic, wand at the ready. Seems he had the same instinct you did. "I heard screaming..." He trails off as he hears the terrified sobs beneath him, and at last he spies your sister, slowly pushing herself back to her feet. "Bozhe moy -- Maggie!"
The red-haired man steps forward.
"I'm so sorry, sir. My nephew here thought it'd be hilarious to throw a trick snake when they came in," he says, pushing Fred forward as he does. "Apologize to them, Fred, or you're spending the rest of the summer at Uncle Percy's. I bloody well mean it."
The boy looks at your father, bearing down on him with protective indignation, and quickly looks at the floor again. Maggie runs into Dad's arms and buries her head in his shoulder as he leans down.
"Sorry," he mumbles.
"Louder. And say what for," the shopowner says sharply.
"Sorry I threw a trick snake at you," he says. Maggie doesn't even look at him, and your dad remains implacable.
"Good. Now go to your room."
Fred looks guiltily at the three of you, then slowly walks up some nearby stairs. The man watches him go, then directs his attention back to Dad.
"Again, really sorry, sir. Little devil's been at it all summer," he says.
"Then perhaps," Dad begins, standing up slowly, "you should keep a closer watch on your children."
The shopowner stiffens, a bit of irritation flaring across his face.
"Maybe you don't have the experience, sir, but it's a bit of a task to man a shop and babysit a rowdy six-year-old at the same time," he shoots back, and you can't help but wince. You really hope Dad doesn't get into another fight today. He must hope so too, because he just sighs, shakes his head, and turns to you.
"I'm going to go outside and calm Maggie down. Stay in here," he says. "And, for the love of Merlin, please use your good judgment."
He's still on about you buying that book, then. You'd roll your eyes, if you didn't think it would get you grounded for the rest of the summer.
"I will, Dad. Don't worry."
He gives you a final, serious look, then walks out the door with Maggie, who's still crying. The door clatters shut again, and you're alone with red-haired man your father nearly had a row with. Might not be a bad idea to patch that up on his behalf.
"I'm sorry about my dad," you say, turning away from the door. "I think shopping puts him in a bad mood."
Thankfully, the man seems to relax, letting out a low chuckle that sets you more at ease.
"Can't say I blame him. I'd yell 'til I was blue in the face if someone made my daughter cry like that," he says. "That's your sister, right?"
You nod -- and then a slow look of recognition dawns over his face, followed by an amused grin.
"I thought you looked familiar," he says. "Weren't you the little girls who bought eighty-seven Musical Mines a few years back?"
Wait, he remembers that?
"Yes," you say, blushing fiercely. "Was it really that memorable?"
"Memorable?" He laughs. "Bloody hilarious is what it was. We never sold so many at once -- still haven't, actually. You put them to good use, I hope?"
"You...could say that," you reply. Was it really eighty-seven Mines? You and Maggie just grabbed as many as you could carry before Dad came back. You didn't think there were that many, and you certainly didn't think you two broke some kind of record. Still, it seems it endeared you to the shopowner, who gives you a pat on the back at your answer.
"Brilliant," he says. "Well, feel free to have a look around. We're having a sale on Edible Parchment and Sugar Ink for Hogwarts students, and half off of all Skiving Snackboxes if you can guess the secret code." He starts to walk back toward the cash register. "And I'll give you a free box of Bertie Bott's. To cheer up your dad and your sister a bit."
You nearly gag -- you have had possibly the worst luck in history when it comes to Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans -- but you're not one to turn down free candy. You smile, then head off into the shelves. Even if you can't buy anything, you might as well entertain yourself by browsing for a bit.
Five minutes later, the doorbell clangs again. You peek your head out from behind a stack of vanishing hats, expecting it to be your father and Maggie again. Instead, you see a man in an Auror uniform, with round glasses and messy black hair. And he must be in a hurry, because he's walking fast. You tilt your head to one side. It's a bit funny to see an Auror in a joke shop, of all places. Maybe someone reported Maggie's screaming?
"Oh! Hello, Harry," the shopowner says, pleasantly surprised. "Didn't expect to see you today."
"Hi, Ron." The Auror stops at the counter. "Got a minute to talk?"
"'Bout what?" Ron replies. He stops arranging the display case and slides it shut. "Store's not exactly bursting today, but George is off, and I got a few customers wandering about."
The man named Harry looks over both his shoulders, then leans forward and lowers his voice. You can't hear him any longer. Shrugging, you're about to walk away when you see Ron's face go white.
"Let's go to the back," he says, opening a partition in the counter to let the Auror through. The two of them walk through a brown door and leave the shop unattended.
Well. That's strange.
You stare after them a bit, wondering just what is going on, when you hear some more voices in the newly quieted store.
"...can't believe how loud she screamed. What an absolute pansy."
"Yeah. Like she's never seen a trick snake before."
"Girls are just like that. Can't handle a bit of fright without crying."
The voice -- male -- crudely imitates the sound of crying, and the other voice (also male) dissolves into laughter.
"Good thinking with the curse. I was afraid the kid would forget."
...those pricks. They're the ones who really scared Maggie, not that little kid. And now they're laughing about it, as though scaring a nine-year-old out of her mind is the funniest thing in the world. Oh, you'd like to give them a piece of your mind, that's for sure. They're just lucky you didn't buy that book of hexes earlier, because they've earned themselves some punishment, as far as you're concerned.
Still, your father said to use your good judgment. There may be better things to do than seek revenge on the bullies.
[ ] Deal with the bullies
---[ ] By marching up and yelling at them.
---[ ] By talking to them and showing them you don't care about their prank.
---[ ] By openly using a prank item on them.
---[ ] By secretly using a prank item on them.
---[ ] By openly casting a spell on them. (Specify spell)
---[ ] By secretly casting a spell on them. (Specify spell)
[ ] Forget the bullies. Try and eavesdrop on the shopowner and the Auror instead. Something might be happening.
[ ] Browse the shop some more. Neither of these things are your business, and you'd like to try and figure out the secret code for the Skiving Snackboxes.
[ ] Leave the shop. There's no point in staying, since you have no money to spend, and you figure Dad and Maggie would like to get home.
[ ] Write-in
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