Disclaimer: Not mine.


Another short piece, written for the "I Never" challenge, which can be found on the Reviewers Lounge Forum.


Bits and Pieces


"No, that's Uncle Fred." Angelina looked over Roxanne's shoulder at the picture and went back to drying dishes.

"How can you tell?"

"His ear. Dad had lost his by that time. See, he's in front of Auntie Muriel's fireplace. Remember the story Dad told you about how they went there when they had to close the shop?"

"Did he keep it?" She looked up hopefully.

"The shop? You know he still has it," Angelina said, momentarily confused.

"His ear."

"Of course not! Where ever did you get that idea?" Angelina frowned at the back of Roxanne's head.

"Fred." Roxanne bit the end of her quill and sighed. "He said Dad keeps it in a glass jar and uses it to make extendable ears. That's why they're so big. Cause Uncle Fred had bigger ears and he spelled them to look like his instead."

"Did not." Her big brother came in eyeing his mother warily. "I was joking Mum, you know that. Anyway, she believes the dumbest stuff."

"Well stop it. I don't want your Dad hearing that kind of nonsense about his ear of all things."

"But he keeps that old guy's eye," Roxanne flipped to the next page of the photo album.

"It's not his real eye stupid."

"Apologise to your sister," Angelina sighed.

"Yeah, sorry," he muttered. "Mum? About what? Saying it wasn't his eye or calling her stupid?"

"You don't call anyone stupid … well," Angelina looked at that photo album, wondering if there was a picture of Luna. "And it was Mr. Moody that lost his eye, the real one, not the one Dad shows off, that's a fake. Rather, it's a copy of his fake eye. Mr. Moody was an Auror, and a war hero, best not forget that."

"I thought he was the one that lost his hand." Roxanne looked up confused.

"No, Mum? That was Peter what's his name, right?"

"Now who is stupid? He lost a toe. Big deal. A toe ain't nothing. Bet lots of people lose their toes," Roxanne quipped.

"Did not, lost his finger. Who did Dad say lost part of his arse?"

"Fred!" Angelina sputtered. "Where did you hear that?"

"Dad. He's starting a whole new line of spare parts, only he keeps them in the back room and won't let me in to look at them. Says you won't let me see 'em until you grow an extra head, but I really want to see the arse. I mean, what would ya do with it?"

"Fred!" Angelina seethed, looking at the clock, and wondering when the bloody hell George would make it home. "Mr. Moody had the bad habit of carrying his wand some place he shouldn't have. He was the same one that lost his eye. "

"Not his hand?" Roxanne was still trying to understand who had lost what.

"That other old guy, Dumbledumb, Dad said his hand was going to just fall off. You know, like the claw of death potion he sells. Only the real one didn't grow back."

Angelina looked from Fred to Roxanne and back at Fred. "You, put the book away and you young lady, get ready for bed."

"Then who didn't have a nose?" Roxanne whined. "And what about that wooden leg thing?"

"Bet Uncle Ron knows." Fred looked at Roxanne and smiled. "Mum? Can we go see him?"

"No, you may not. It's past your bedtime and I am not sure he would be much help anyway, he hasn't been feeling well."

Roxanne turned in the chair and looked up at her mother. "Did Aunt Hermione hex his nads off yet?"

"That's it!" Angelina threw down the towel and stomped to the floo where she fell on her knees and asked Grandma Weasley to step through so she could kill her other twin.

"It's okay Mum. Dad's going to sell those too. He has this big sign up at the back, in the restricted section that I didn't see, so Uncle Ron shouldn't worry."

Angelina sat back on her heels and sucked in her breath. Unable to talk she pointed a shaking finger at the stairs.

"Now, now, dear," Molly chided as she stepped into the sitting room brushing off soot all over the clean carpet. "They are just highly strung."

"No, Molly, it's their father that is going to get strung. I mean it this time," she spat as she grabbed a handful of powder and threw it down, declaring her destination.

.

.

"George Weasley," she blustered and shook her finger in his face, "you have to stop it. Do you understand me? Do you know what type of warped ideas your children have? My gods man, they think you keep your ear in a jar and …"

She saw his face redden and saw him turn to look at the door as the bell jingled announcing a customer.

"You don't!" she hissed.

"Well, sort of. It was Fred's idea really. Was bloody hard to find too, took us almost two weeks. Should have buried it with him, but it just slipped my mind. Then it was too late, couldn't dig him up and give it to him, not with Mom always fussing over flowers and all."

"Now what?" She flopped down in the chair behind the counter. "We can't keep it. What happens to it now? You leave it in your will to your son?"

His lip twitched just thinking about it. "Nah, wouldn't be fair, Roxanne would just…

"Oh shut up!" She couldn't help but giggle knowing he was right. "Your daughter is going to want to know what nads are."

"Oh." He swallowed hard. "What are you going to tell her?"

"To ask her father," she glowered at him. "Like I'm going to ask her father how his son saw the sign in the restricted section."

"Her Grandfather is good at it. He has this whole thing about birds he goes through," he said ignoring the inference about his back room.

Angelina glared at him. "Tomorrow is Sunday, and you have the whole day to come up with something. Just do it before they get hold of Ronald or they will think Quidditch is a sex game and the golden snitch is something the winner gets after the game."

"You were a brilliant captain now that I think of it, that might work." He grinned at her enjoying how flustered she became.

"Watch it or I'll ask Hermione for that spell. You just make sure you take care of it tomorrow," she smirked.

"Can't tomorrow. I told Harry I would be there when he announced he was throwing his hat in the ring."

"Shite," she muttered. "I forgot all about it being this Sunday. Is Harry really going to run against Kingsley?"

"Looks that way, don't think he has much of a chance. People want experience, but I got this great idea."

George dug around on the shelf under the counter, and brought out an official looking document, which he thrust at Angelina grinning and tossing his head back to strike a pose she sadly recognized. She took it from his hand and started to read it, then looked up at him blankly.

"George, no one will believe this, so stop trying to look so proud."

"Sure they will. They'll believe what they want to. Always do."

"Like Moody's eye?" she asked flatly. "Or what about that glove you dipped in silver paint and claim comes from Peter Pettigrew?"

"Same thing, I tell them Kingsley's name is really King because he was born to Peruvian Royalty and Shacklebolt from his father's time in prison as a Death Eater. You'll see, they'll believe it because they want to."

He tapped the parchment with his wand and the Peruvian Birth Certificate began to multiply.

"That's the dumbest thing you've done yet." She watched the growing stack of copies and worried her lip. "Should it be in English?"

"Yeah, they have to be able to read it. Trust me, no one will notice."

"George, at least take off the "Supplied By Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes."

"No really, I did tests. All I had to do is hint he wasn't born here and people jumped on it. One couple even headed down to the Ministry demanding his birth certificate be made public after I gave them one of these at the end of the survey."

"Harry won't like it." She frowned at him and shook her head. "Anyway, Kingsley doesn't even look Hispanic, and that Birth Certificate is signed by Healer Riddle."

"Yeah," George smiled and nodded his head. "That's the beauty of it. It's so obvious it can't miss and no one can blame me. While everyone is talking about his birth and if he can be an elected official here, if he was born over there, no one will pay attention to the real issues and Harry may have a chance."

"Whatever." She lifted her hand, palm out, indicating that the conversation was closed. "Just make sure you talk to the kids. I don't want them to think you go around wanting to see old people killed for body parts."

George took her by the elbow and walked to the door, opening it and leaning down to kiss her cheek. He stopped and flapped his hand at a beetle that flew in before completing the soft peck on her cheek.

"I'll be home soon, we can practice." He waggled an eyebrow at her. "Maybe I can win that golden prize."

"Your mother is there with the kids." She frowned. "Bet she has fed them every damned thing in the house that wouldn't eat them first. Hope you didn't leave any stray jars around."

"You can tell them, from me, that I have no intention of collecting more body parts. However, if Kingsley lops off Harry's head, I will need a bigger jar. You know those Peruvian human sacrifices are messy. " He winked at her and grinned.

The beetle buzzed against the glass franticly, beating it wings and getting ready to dart out of the door with Angelina. Flying into the nearby alley, she slowly changed back to human form.

This is good, the Animagus thought, so very good. She looked over her shoulder and hurried to the Prophet, intent on meeting the deadline, already thinking of the headline that would appear right over her name.

Angelina walked to the apparation point and smiled. She never did like that damned bloodsucking, reporter. Maybe George was right. This could be a lot of fun.


I was told to make it lultz …