Disclaimer: None of the characters in this story belong to me. They are all the intellectual property of J. K. Rowling. This story was written in response to a Live Journal challenge issued by whitemunin. The challenge was to take a classic fairytale and adapt it to the Harry Potter Universe. This particular story is a takeoff of the story Rapunzel written by the Brothers Grimm. No monetary gain is in sought by the posting of this tale.
Rapulzive or oh to have hair when the rampion’s in bloom.
By shadowycat
Argus Filch walked briskly down the streets of Hogsmeade with a smile on his usually sour face. The sun was shining brightly, and he’d seen the last of that pack of sneaking prats that called themselves students for a whole two months so life was good at the moment. Now if his package had just arrived, things would only get better.
As he turned into the village post office he was forced to throw himself against the nearest wall to narrow avoid being flattened by a flock of exiting owls. They really should have a separate entrance and exit for patrons and delivery creatures. Obviously the post office wasn’t run to the peak efficiency level of Hogwarts.
He paused for a moment in the dimness of the busy room and let his eyes adjust to the change in light before moving off to the far back corner, which was fortunately conveniently distant from the prying eyes at the front desk. A bunch of nosy interfering busybodies worked here…always snooping around and staring at people. They definitely didn’t understand the concept of privacy at all.
Since he certainly had no desire to go broadcasting his private business to the whole world, he always had to be really careful when he came in here. With a final look over his shoulder to be sure that he was unobserved, he withdrew a large ornate key from his pocket with the number 178983 and 1/8 on it. Moving to the box with the same number, he slipped the key into the keyhole and twisted open the lock. Bending down to take a peek inside, he pulled open the door to the post box and to his delight found a small package awaiting him.
Eagerly he removed the box and glanced at the label. It was addressed to A. Wizidicus, Box 178983 1/8, Hogsmeade Post Office, Hogsmeade, Scotland. The return address said: Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. Yes! It was finally here.
Grasping the box tightly and holding it protectively to his chest with the label pressed carefully to his shirtfront, he let the door to the post box swing shut and quickly made his escape back into the much greater privacy of the wider world outside.
*******************************************************
Once back in the dubious comfort of his room at the castle, Filch anxiously tore open the wrapping on his package and opened the box inside. Finally those obnoxious, thieving, sneaky, prats, the weasely Weasley brothers were going to come in handy for something. He’d seen their troublesome advertisements posted up all over the school. Hadn’t he been forced to devote an entire day to removing every single one of them? Since he’d had to spend that much time collecting the damned things, it was hardly surprising if he happened to read one or two of them before he burned them. Now…hopefully…something good would come of it.
Eagerly he reached into the box and pulled out a bottle of bright red pills. Good God! The things were big enough to choke a thestral! Well…if they worked…one should be all that was needed. Surely he could manage to swallow one of them. He could always ask the house elves for some applesauce. That’s what his old Mum used to use when he was a tot.
Once he’d taken one though…what a difference it would make. He raised a shaky hand to his balding head. If he had more hair then she might look at him differently. It seemed to work for that poncey pretty-boy Gilderoy Lockhart. He had a gorgeously full head of hair and the fool had women drooling over of him. The twit was such an idiot that the hair had to be the reason…of course…there were also the teeth. His hand went automatically to his own mouth full of discolored and crooked teeth. Well…one thing at a time. He’d worry about teeth later. Anyway there was no way that Lockhart’s hair was natural so hopefully that wasn’t a requirement, but who could tell with women.
With a shrug he dropped his eyes to the label. “Fat Follicle Fizzies”, it said in bold gilded lettering. Fast help for the folliclely challenged. Just take one and watch the hair grow. Cut to desired length once hair growth stops.
Sounded simple enough. Eager to obtain his new luxurious locks, Filch twisted open the top of the bottle and shook one of the large pills out into his hand. He then popped it in his mouth and to his surprise it melted right away on his tongue leaving behind a refreshing effervescent tingling sensation. Not bad.
Anxious to see the results, he ran across the room and peered into his mirror. All he could see was a dull fuzzy vaguely human shape. Realizing how long it had been since he’d used the darn thing by the amount of dust that coated its surface, he raised his arm and rubbed firmly against the smooth glass with his shirtsleeve. Then he fastened his eyes on his now much sharper reflection.
Nothing. He looked exactly as he always did. Damn Weasleys! Apparently they’re nothing but a couple of frauds! He reconsidered. No. That couldn’t be right. He knew that the other fool stuff that they produced worked. Hadn’t he seen the evidence often enough when some idiotic first year had been foolish enough to eat one of their treats without knowing what it would do to them? So what was the problem?
With a frown, he stepped back from the mirror and crossed once more to the table where he’d set down the pill bottle. Maybe he just needed to take more than one. If they were geared for kids…adults would need a larger dose, wouldn’t they? Made sense…sort of. Except that there aren’t that many balding kids around so any fool with an ounce of sense would know that it was adults who were going to want to use the things. Still…wouldn’t hurt to try.
His shoulders slumped as another possibility occurred to him. Maybe the fool things won’t work on squibs. That was a depressing thought. Couldn’t he ever win one? Maybe squibs just needed a larger dose. Yeah. That was probably it. Squibs were fairly resistant to magic. Spells sometimes needed to be stronger to affect them. This wouldn’t be any different.
With a nod of his head, he shook out another pill and popped it in his mouth. They really had a rather pleasant flavor. Sort of like strawberries in soured yogurt. He still didn’t feel any different. So he popped another one in his mouth just in case. Then he ran his hands over his head again as he went and looked into his mirror once more. Dang it all! Still nothing. Maybe it would happen later. Yeah that could be it. A delayed reaction sort of thing.
He sighed. Well, he could hope so anyway, but if nothing happened by tonight then he was going to demand his money back, and those snot-nosed little weasels had better give it to him. He glared angrily at the mirror.
Just then there was a knock at his door. This was a surprise. Who’d be coming to see him? Most everyone had already cleared out for the summer. A few of the teachers were still here, but they’d have no call to be bothering him. Unless they wanted their trunks from storage and couldn’t find a house elf, of course.
His face brightened. Maybe it was her! She hadn’t left yet. He’d seen her in the hallway after breakfast and she’d told him that she wasn’t planning on leaving until tomorrow or the next day. That’s one of the reasons that he’d hoped so much that his box of pills would arrive today. Fat lot of good that did. The way things were looking now, he wasn’t going to be impressing anyone with his new long flowing hair…certainly not Minerva McGonagall.
The knock sounded louder. This time it was accompanied by a familiar though certainly not expected voice. “Hey, Argus. Are you in there? Open up will you? I’ve got something for you.”
Filch dropped the bottle of pills back into the box on the table, crossed the room, and opened the door to Arabella Figg. “Bella. What are you doin’ here?” he asked with a slight frown and a more annoyed tone than he’d intended.
She raised an eyebrow and walked past him into the room. “Nice to see you too, you old coot. I was up visiting my cousin Effie, and I noticed the wonderful crop of rampion that she had in her garden. When I saw it, I thought of you since I know that you love the stuff.” She made a sour face. “God knows why, it tastes like a bitter weed. Anyway, I thought I’d bring some up to you since it was such a nice day for a walk. Guess I shouldn’t have bothered, huh. What’s eatin’ at you anyway? I’d think you’d be in a better mood since all the kids have gone off for the summer.”
Filch closed the door and shook his head. “Nothing’s wrong. I was just surprised to see you, that’s all.” He came over and took the rampion from her hands. “Thanks. I haven’t had any of this stuff in ages. That was kind of you. I appreciate it.”
Mrs. Figg ducked her head in acceptance of his thanks and then she moved over to the table where her sharp eyes had caught sight of the remains of Filch’s package. She picked up a bit of the paper and looked at the writing on it. “No problem, Argus. Say…what’s this? Who the heck is A. Wizidicus? You nabbing off some other fool’s packages now?”
Filch reddened severely and snatched the paper wrapping from Mrs. Figg’s hand. Then he dropped the rampion onto the table and crumpled up the paper and threw it in the trash bin. “Never mind what that is. It’s none of your business.”
She shrugged. “Don’t get your kickers in a twist. I was just wondering that’s all. Hey, you want to take a walk back down to the village with me? I’d really fancy a drink at the Hog’s Head, and Effie’s a bit too stuffy to go with me. What do you say?”
“No, I really can’t. Not now, Bella. I’ve still got work to be doing around here and it’s time I got it done. There’s a lot of stuff to be gotten out of storage for the departing professors. Will you be around for awhile? I’m sure that by this evening, I could really use that drink.”
She nodded amiably. “Sure. I’ll be here for a couple of days. Can’t really leave Mr. Tibbles for longer than that, but I hadn’t been up here in so long that I wanted to come for a short time.”
Saying that he had to be getting to his work, Filch accompanied Mrs. Figg back to the entrance hall of the castle, but before he could open the door to let her out, he was hit squarely in the back of the head with a balloon filled with icy water.
Sputtering with anger, he turned around to see Peeves hovering halfway up the main staircase. The poltergeist let out a very wet raspberry and turning around he swooped off up the stairs crying loudly, “Filch thinks he’s got it made now that the kiddies are gone, doesn’t he? Thinks he’s home free. We’ll just have to see if we can’t think up some things to keep old Filch on his toesies, yes we will.”
When he reached the top of the staircase, he turned around again and tossed another balloon. This one hit the edge of a step halfway down the largest span of stairs and burst, but instead of being filled with water, it was filled with bright red paint. The paint flew everywhere creating a huge red splotch on the lovely white marble.
“Take that, Filch!” called the prankster gaily. “Catch me if you can!” Then Peeves tossed another balloon this one full of dark green paint and sped off merrily into the darkness of an upper corridor.
Filch gave an inarticulate cry of rage and sped off up the stairs after the fleeing poltergeist. Mess up his nice clean castle would he? That miserable flying spook! Well, he’d just see about that! Mrs. Figg followed after the infuriated caretaker as quickly as she could manage not wanting to miss what promised to be a highly entertaining spectacle.
Peeves led them on a merry chase through the empty halls dropping paint bombs in all the primary colors in his wake. Filch was so angry by now that he couldn’t see straight. He trailed the poltergeist down corridors and up winding staircases until he ended up in one of the top tower rooms in the little used south wing of the castle. As Filch stood in the middle of the small round room, he heard mocking laughter from behind him. When he whirled around, Peeves blew another raspberry in his face and slammed the door tight.
Enraged now, Filch threw himself on the door and wrenched madly at the handle, but as he’d expected the damn thing was locked. He’d been suckered. Furious beyond reason, the caretaker began to kick at the door and swear a blue streak.
His commotion led Mrs. Figg right to him. She’d gotten a bit turned around in all the unfamiliar corridors and had lagged behind. When she arrived outside the door to the tower room, Peeves blew a raspberry at her as well and took off up through the roof. She quickly turned and tried to open the door, but naturally since it was firmly locked, she didn’t have any more luck than the hapless Filch had.
“Argus. Can you hear me?” she hollered as loudly as she could. Between the thickness of the wood and the volume of the swearing that was issuing from the locked room, she wasn’t sure that Filch would even have a clue that she was out here. But it seemed that he did hear her after all.
“Bella! Get the damn door open!” he bellowed.
“I can’t, it’s locked. I’ll have to go for help.”
“Well, hurry up about it!” Filch snarled.
Trying to be understanding and not snap back, Mrs. Figg nodded and answered, “Right. I’ll go see if I can find anyone. Uh…you wouldn’t happen to know who’s still around and how I can find them would you?”
“Good god, Bella, can’t you figure out anything for yourself? I’m not sure who’s still here. Dumbledore’s off somewhere. McGonagall’s still around, though. Snape’s here, too, and Vector, I think. Just go find someone…okay?”
With a sigh, Mrs. Figg turned to leave when suddenly Filch’s screams brought her back to the door. It sounded as if he was in pain.
“What is it, Argus?” she cried in concern.
There wasn’t any answer. Since he’d been screaming at the top of his lungs a moment before, this wasn’t exactly encouraging. “Argus? What is it?”
His voice came again through the wood sounding tight and strained. “Just hurry!”
Unsure about what else could possibly have happened, Mrs. Figg turned and began the long journey back down through the confusing maze of Hogwarts castle as quickly as she could.
***********************************************************
Inside the tower, Filch was suddenly experiencing the full effects of “Fat Follicle Fizzies”…in spades. Hair had suddenly erupted from every possible place on his head and face, and boy did it hurt coming out! The damn stuff was growing so fast that he could actually watch it move. Within moments, his now very lush hair and beard were halfway down his chest, then they were wrapped around his knees, then they started snaking across the floor. Those damn Weasleys! They’d done it to him again!
***********************************************************
Below in the entrance hall, Snape and McGonagall were having a conversation. McGonagall was making dismissive gestures with her hands as she walked along with Snape at her heels.
“Forget I asked, Severus. I simply thought that since my friend wasn’t going to be able to use the ticket that I bought for him, you might like to use it instead. It is the World Cup after all.”
“Sorry, Minerva, but I have little interest in watching Belarus and Andorra chase each other back and forth over the field while their players try to figure out which goal is which. Honestly how those two teams ended up in the World Cup is a total mystery to me. Talk to me again if England ever gets their act together enough to be in contention once more.”
“I wouldn’t be able to afford tickets if England made it into the World Cup,” she barked in annoyance
Snape snorted. “You’re probably right. Our salaries aren’t exactly enough to stretch that far. You know, your idea of a fun vacation may be to visit with the colleagues that you’re forced to spend the rest of the year with, but I prefer to spend my summers completely free of everything and everyone that I have no choice but to associate with during the school terms.”
Mildly insulted, McGonagall placed her hands on her hips and frowned. “I wasn’t exactly suggesting that the two of us set up housekeeping together, Severus. It was simply a matter of sitting side by side during one Quidditch match, and I generally prefer to actually watch the match rather than “visit” with those sitting around me,” she snapped.
Snape opened his mouth to retort and was interrupted by a voice yelling for help. Both professors looked up to see Mrs. Figg come running down the stairs flapping her arms wildly and yelling that she needed their help. As she came up to them at the foot of the staircase, she gasped for breath in between her words, which tended to make her message a bit hard to follow.
“Thank god…*gasp*…need you…*gasp*…Argus…*gasp*…trapped…*wheeze*…Peeves, that rotter…*gasp*…you’ve got to help.”
McGonagall exchanged a puzzled look with Snape and sighed. “Arabella, you’ll have to calm down and talk more slowly. Severus and I can’t understand a word you’re saying. Now take a deep breath and start again before you keel over.”
Mrs. Figg nodded, took a deep breath, and tried to be more coherent. “Peeves has locked Argus in one of the castle towers. He can’t get out and I think something has happened to him because it sounded as if he was in pain.”
“My goodness,” gasped McGonagall. “Which tower?”
Mrs. Figg shrugged. “How the hell am I supposed to know? I never went to this school. One of the tall ones.”
“Oh, that really narrows it down, doesn’t it, Minerva,” commented Snape dryly.
McGonagall shot him a dirty look and returned to Mrs. Figg. “Can you show me, Arabella?”
The squib nodded. “Yes. Although you shouldn’t have any trouble finding it yourselves. Just follow the splotches of paint that Peeves threw to lure poor Argus up there.” She pointed a shaky hand up the stairs at the congealing paint that defaced the lovely marble.
“Oh my,” exclaimed McGonagall, as she lifted her robes up in her hands and sped off up the stairs with Snape trailing after her. Mrs. Figg took another deep breath and turned to follow. This was really a bit more up and down than she’d bargained for when she’d brought Argus his rampion, but it certainly was more exciting than hanging around with Effie.
***************************************************************
Meanwhile back in the tower, the situation was getting rather desperate. Filch felt like he was drowning in hair. It was everywhere. It filled up the floor and was beginning to creep up along the walls. If he didn’t do something soon he’d literally be smothered by his own hair, something he’d never in his wildest dreams even imagined was possible.
Slowly he waded across the room to the only window in the wall. He had to get rid of the damn stuff somehow, and this was the only thing he could think of. So he twisted open the catch and pushed the glass pane outward. Then he started scooping up hair and stuffing it out the window as fast as he could. If he could just get enough of it out there, gravity would take over and pull it all out. Just as it occurred to him that with this much hair, he might end up getting pulled out through the window, too, the hair reached the point of no return and began to start falling away quickly, drawing what was left in the room with it.
There was barely enough time for Argus to grab a hold of the only piece of furniture in the otherwise empty chamber, an old iron bedstead, when he felt himself being tugged strongly over to the window. He hung on for dear life hoping that his arms would hold out until the hair grew long enough to reach the ground because once it did, it wouldn’t exert so much pull on him. Where was Arabella anyway? Surely it shouldn’t have taken her this long to find someone to help.
***************************************************************
When they arrived at the tower door, McGonagall pulled on the handle and rapped on the wood with her knuckles. “Argus. Argus, are you all right?”
A somewhat muffled voice answered her sounding a trifle panicky. “Professor McGonagall? Is that you? Get me out of here!”
McGonagall frowned. “I can hardly hear you, Argus. It sounds as if you’re trying to talk through a pillow.”
“It’s all the hair,” he gasped as he spat it out of his mouth and tried to enunciate more clearly. Definitely a challenge at the moment.
“The what? It sounded as if you said hair.”
“I did. I did. My hair’s been bewitched…uh…somehow…it’s growing like crazy. I’ve had to throw it out the window, and now the weight of it is threatening to pull me out, too. Just open the damn door and get me out of here…uh…please.” He sounded rather desperate.
McGonagall turned to look at Snape who shrugged carelessly. “Well, open the door. I for one can’t wait to see what sort of foolish predicament Filch has managed to land himself in this time.”
McGonagall frowned but before she could speak, Mrs. Figg piped up coming to Filch’s defense. “That’s hardly fair, Professor Snape. Argus was trying to stop Peeves from defiling the castle. As a squib there’s only so much he can do when faced with a magical being! This was hardly his fault.”
Snape eyed Mrs. Figg with distaste, but he could hardly argue her point. Who’d know better what a squib was and wasn’t capable of than another squib? “No, I suppose not,” he stated grudgingly. Then he turned back to McGonagall. “Well, what are you waiting for, Minerva? Get on with it.”
Her lips tightened, but rather than wasting her breath commenting on Snape’s habitual rudeness, she withdrew her wand from her pocket and waved it at the door. “Alohomora,” she stated firmly. Immediately the flare of magic from her wand bounced off the door and was sent spinning around the room. All three of them threw themselves flat on the floor and covered their heads with their hands as the magical plume of energy dipped and swirled at a rapid rate as it ricocheted off the stone walls around them. After bouncing around merrily for awhile, it finally dissipated into nothingness.
Figg, Snape, and McGonagall sat up and looked at each other. Mrs. Figg found her voice first. “I take it that wasn’t supposed to happen,” she said dryly.
Snape glared at her and then turned back to McGonagall who was rubbing her shoulder and wincing. “Are you all right, Minerva?”
She nodded. “Yes, I think so. I just wrenched my shoulder a bit when I hit the floor.”
They all clambered to their feet. Snape took out his own wand and stalked over to the door. McGonagall, still a bit wary after their little surprise, grabbed his arm. “What are you planning to do?” she asked in a commanding tone.
He turned and scowled at her. “I was going to cast a few illuminating spells to see just what sort of enchantments have been put on this stupid door. Unless you’d rather continue on blindly. That worked so well the first time.”
She stiffened up and dropped her restraining hand at his sarcastic tone then nodded coldly. “Fine,” she stated in an icy tone. While Snape worked she turned and called through the door to Filch. “Argus, are you still okay? We’ve run into a little difficulty here, but we’ll be getting to you as quickly as possible.”
“What sort of difficulty?” came the worried reply.
Snape shook his head. “The door is heavily warded and bonded shut. We aren’t getting in this way any time soon.” He raised his voice. “Filch, did you say that the window is open and you threw something out of it?”
“Yes,” came a muffled squeak. “My hair. It’s enchanted and growing like crazy. It’s likely to pull me right out the window if you don’t figure something out.”
Snape smirked and turned back to McGonagall. “Well, it rather sounds as if we do nothing the problem could be solved very soon.”
McGonagall frowned. “I doubt if falling to his death from the window is the ending to this little problem that Argus had in mind, Severus,” she chided.
“No, I suppose not,” he murmured dryly. “It would do the trick, though.”
“Maybe we should try to get to Argus through the window?” suggested Mrs. Figg, who’d stood nearby and watched avidly while the witch and wizard had tried so futilely to get into the room. It was sort of comforting to get confirmation every now and then that magic couldn’t solve every problem with the flick of a wand.
Snape nodded. “We might as well. There’s no way we’re getting in through this door.”
**************************************************************
The three of them trooped down through the castle and outside into the lovely afternoon. They followed the edge of the massive building around to the south side and looked up. The sight that met their eyes was very strange indeed. One of the shorter towers, which was still at least eight stories tall, seemed to have sprouted a beard. A rather gray and slightly curly one with dirty brown accents. It filled the window near the top of the tower and curled its way more than halfway down the side looking like some crazy lunatic’s nightmare version of ivy, and it was obviously growing…very rapidly.
“Good heavens!” exclaimed McGonagall. “How in Merlin’s name could something like this have happened? Peeves can’t cast spells on people.”
Mrs. Figg looked thoughtful. “Maybe it was whatever was in that box that Argus didn’t want me to ask about.”
Snape raised an eyebrow and turned with interest to Mrs. Figg. “Oh? Now what box might this be?”
Mrs. Figg shrugged her bony shoulders and looked suddenly nervous. Having Snape fasten those eyes on you was enough to make almost anyone nervous. Except apparently McGonagall, who simply frowned at Snape and snapped, “Oh for goodness sake, Severus. You’re scaring the woman.” Then turning her own not inconsiderable frown on Mrs. Figg, she repeated Snape’s query in much the same intimidating tone of voice. “What box are you talking about, Arabella?”
With both of them giving her the eye, Mrs. Figg was suddenly losing her taste for excitement and thinking that being home with Mr. Tibbles sounded awfully good at the moment.
“Um…this box that Argus had that was addressed to an A. Wizidicus. It was from Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes…” Her voice trailed off as both of their jaws dropped open.
Snape found his voice first. “What on earth would possess Filch to have anything to do with the incorrigibly wild Weasley brothers? And what kind of stupid made up name is A. Wizidicus? I’d have thought that Filch could manage to think up something a little more believable. If the Weasleys fell for that name then they must be every bit as thick headed as I ever thought them to be…or far more gullible than I’d have ever believed.”
“Or perhaps simply more greedy and unscrupulous than we gave them credit for,” added McGonagall with a deepening of her frown. “What was in this box, Arabella?”
Mrs. Figg shrugged. “Beats me. As soon as he saw me looking at the wrapping, he threw it away and steered me on to other things.”
McGonagall turned to Snape. “Perhaps we should investigate this further.”
The Potions master snorted shortly and crossed his arms. “Sorry, Minerva, but I draw the line at having anything whatsoever to do with Weasleys. That’s your territory, I’m afraid. When those two made their dramatic exit from Hogwarts it was one of the happiest days of my life. You go and have a good time poking around in Filch’s detritus. I’ll keep an eye on the window. If Filch pops out, I’ll see that he has a soft landing. Though if he lands on all that hair, that should be guaranteed.”
“You know you could get a broom and fly up there and check on Filch,” she suggested.
The Potions master raised an eyebrow. “Yes, I could couldn’t I,” he drawled casually while not moving a muscle.
McGonagall’s mouth thinned out so much that her lips practically disappeared. “Fine,” she spat. “Wait here. I’ll check into the Weasleys’ culpability in this.” With that she stalked off waving her hand imperiously. “Come on, Arabella.”
Snape smiled smugly at Mrs. Figg and made a shooing gesture with his hands. The squib drew herself up in a dignified manner which was then ruined somewhat by her being forced to scuttle off hurriedly to catch up with the rapidly striding McGonagall.
*************************************************************
When McGonagall and Figg got to Filch’s room, the squib went over to the trash bin at once and fished out the balled up wrapping paper. Then she crossed the room and handed it to McGonagall as she pointed to the box on the table. “Here’s the wrapping paper. That’s the box that was inside.”
McGonagall took the paper and spread it out enough to read the label and the return address. Then she crossed to the table and peered inside the box. With a curious frown she extracted the bottle of shiny red pills and looked it over. “Oh, dear,” she muttered as she read the label on the bottle. “Now I understand. How foolish.”
She looked up at Mrs. Figg. “I suppose we’d better contact the Weasleys. Hopefully they’ll know how to stop this.”
Mrs. Figg nodded in agreement then watched as McGonagall walked over to the fireplace and ignited a good sized blaze with her wand. Then she reached into her pocket for a small silver snuffbox.
Mrs. Figg smiled. “Hey, I have one just like that. It belonged to my great uncle Moraceous. He was a great believer in the cleansing power of a sneeze. ‘Course it turned out to be his downfall. He sneezed himself right into a herd of hippogriffs one time. Poor things were highly insulted. Old Mory was never the same after that.”
McGonagall stared at Mrs. Figg as if she wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that, but as the woman seemed to be awaiting some sort of answer, she settled for a non-committal “Hmmm”, and left it at that. Then she turned back to the fire and opening the snuffbox, she extracted a pinch of powder and threw it onto the flames exclaiming loudly, “Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes”.
Momentarily the head of a Weasley twin appeared in the spinning flames of Filch’s fire.
Whichever Weasley had answered the summons looked nonplussed to be facing his former Head of House. “Professor McGonagall! It’s…uh…good to see you again…uh…what can I do for you?” He automatically felt a trifle nervous and guilty. Old habits die hard.
“Mr. Weasley. Did you sell a bottle of…” she consulted the label, “Fat Follicle Fizzies to someone with the extremely dubious name of A. Wizidicus?” She cocked an eyebrow and glared sternly at the face in the fire.
“Uh…maybe…I’d have to consult our records. Is there a problem?” he asked cautiously.
“You could say that. Apparently Mr. Filch was the one who purchased a bottle of these hair growth pills from your establishment under this spurious name. And they haven’t acted as expected.”
A second red head joined the first in the fire coming to the aid of his brother. “Those particular pills shouldn’t even work on squibs, Professor,” commented George Weasley.
Fred frowned at his brother. “Are we sure about that? I don’t recall testing them on any squibs. They didn’t work on Muggles, though…unless…” His voice trailed off and his eyes got big.
George nodded. “Oh yeah…the stress factor. I’d forgotten about that.”
McGonagall placed a hand on her hip. “What stress factor would we be talking about here?”
George shrugged and looked a trifle embarrassed. “Well, some selections from our line of fine products do work on Muggles and some don’t. But if they don’t sometimes they can be made to work by being triggered by extreme stress, and then the effect can be a little…off. Like with the “Engorgio Energy Bars”…instead of making you all big and musclely like they’re supposed to, they can just make you big…”
“as a balloon,” finished his brother with a grin.
“I see.” McGonagall didn’t like the sound of this at all.
“Did Filch take the pills, Professor?” asked Fred.
“I would assume so since his hair is apparently growing out of control.”
Two voices rose in chorus. “Really?” Their eyes sparkled brightly then as the Weasley boys took note of McGonagall’s disapproving frown, they both tried to school their faces into more somber expressions but it obviously wasn’t easy.
“That’s too bad, but there’s really nothing to worry about. It’ll stop soon and then he can just cut it,” added George helpfully.
“Well, it’s showing no sign of stopping yet. The hair is hanging out of an eighth story window and is simply growing uncontrollably. There must be something we can do to stop it.”
Both brothers’ eyes got big as plates. “Eight stories! Wow. That’s never happened before.” They looked at each other. “Um…Professor…how many of the pills did Filch take anyway?”
“I’m not sure. Would that matter?”
“Well, yeah…the effect is cumulative.”
McGonagall opened the bottle and dumped the pills into her hand counting swiftly. “There are seven pills left. How many does the bottle contain?”
“Seven,” squeaked George. “Oh, dear. There are ten pills in a bottle. That means he must’ve taken three of them. That’s not good.”
McGonagall sighed. “Is there a spell that I can use to end this growth?”
George shook his head. “No. I don’t think so. It’s a potion see. You’d need an antidote to the potion, but it’s not just a standard growth potion either. We’ve added in our own special touches. You know to enhance the final product. To increase customer satisfaction.”
“Is there an antidote?” McGonagall’s tone was sharp and icy now and the two in the fire shivered to hear it.
“Well…sort of…it’s in the development stage. We didn’t think it would matter so much with this product. I mean the whole point of the pills is to grow hair. We didn’t think anyone would want to go back to being bald, and if they did, they could just cut it off. It will stop growing…eventually…honest.”
McGonagall felt a huge familiar headache coming on. Something she thought she’d experienced for the last time when these two left Hogwarts.
“Isn’t there anything that we can do to help Mr. Filch?” she asked in an exasperated tone.
George nudged Fred. “There’s the Muggle trigger effect.”
Fred looked uncertain. “Yeah, but Filch’s a squib not a Muggle. Think it’ll work?”
“Who knows, but it’d be worth a try, wouldn’t it?”
Knowing that she was going to regret asking, McGonagall forced herself to ask anyway. “What is a Muggle trigger?”
George grinned. “Well…when the stuff works on Muggles sometimes it doesn’t always stop as it should. We got tired of having to go around and cast spells on people and then obliviate them, so we incorporated an ending trigger into our products…something that Muggles would understand…and could do themselves.”
“Really, and that would be?”
“A kiss.”
“Excuse me?” inquired McGonagall in a faint voice.
“A kiss. You know, in all those Muggle fairytales a kiss always seems to be the way to break the spell. Muggles think that sex solves everything. So we figured…having a kiss end the enchantment would be perfect for those times when Muggles “accidentally” got a hold of our products.”
Both Weasleys smiled innocently at the mildly nauseated witch.
*************************************************************
Once they’d pulled their heads out of the fireplace, the Weasley brothers looked at each other and started laughing hysterically.
“Filch! Can you imagine? God, I wish I could see it,” exclaimed George doubled over at the waist.
“Yeah,” agreed his brother. “He must be a sight, and wouldn’t you just love to be there to watch McGonagall kiss him?”
They looked at each other for a moment and then dissolved into gales of laughter so intense that they had to sit down and wipe the tears from their faces.
“Oh god, that’s funny,” gasped George.
Fred sighed happily then turned to his brother and asked, “Why didn’t you warn McGonagall about the feedback in the kiss trigger?”
George started laughing once more. “I didn’t think that she’d be too keen on knowing that the kiss could temporarily render her blind and make her fall for the first person that she laid eyes on when she got her sight back again. Even if the effect is temporary. Besides…I sort of like the idea of McGonagall being in love with Filch…even if it will only be for a few moments…don’t you?”
They both smiled identical evil smiles and fell into fits of hysterical laughter once more.
*************************************************************
Figg and McGonagall made their way back to the foot of the south tower where they found Snape still standing there staring up at the window high above his head. Filch’s hair now rested on the ground and was crawling across the lawn like some creeping horror from a Muggle monster movie. Filch’s head could be seen in the window above. At least McGonagall assumed it was Filch’s head. It moved like a person for all it was completely covered in hair. Idly she wondered if anyone could even find a mouth to kiss under all that mess. Overcome with another wave of nausea, she thought desperately that maybe she could convince Severus to do the honors.
She spared a look for the Potions master as he gazed up at Filch in the window. He was obviously torn between extreme amusement over Filch’s predicament and annoyance at being stuck here waiting for her to return with an answer. When he noticed her presence, he turned and glowered at her darkly before demanding, “Well, did our gallant entrepreneurs have the answers we need?”
As she looked at him, she realized that the odds of his climbing up there and kissing Filch were just about equal to those of Voldemort winning a world wide popularity contest. Still…what did she have to lose by asking?
So plastering her very nicest smile on her face she said, “They weren’t sure exactly what might be needed, but they did have a suggestion.”
“Well…what was it?” demanded Snape impatiently.
“They thought a kiss might break the spell and end the hair growth.”
Snape’s eyebrows rose in tandem. “A kiss? You mean from a real live human being?”
She tightened her lips at his sarcasm. “Yes.”
Snape began to laugh. Both McGonagall and Figg looked at each other in astonishment. Neither had ever heard Severus Snape laugh before. It was actually a very nice sound…although it did have a slightly rusty quality to it, as if his laugh was something that didn’t get used very often.
Still smiling broadly, Snape gestured at the tower window. “Well, your hairy beauty awaits, my lady. Kiss away.”
McGonagall looked dubiously up at the tower. “Actually Severus, I was rather hoping that you might do the honors,” she offered with a sideways glance.
Snape’s merriment vanished instantly and he crossed his arms and glared once more. “There’s no way in hell that I’m kissing Filch! If I was so fundamentally foolish I’d be struck blind in an instant.”
McGonagall could tell there wouldn’t be any budging him from that position so she turned hopefully to Mrs. Figg. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to do it, Arabella?” she asked with a smile.
Mrs. Figg shook her head. “Sorry, Minerva. I break out in hives at just the thought of getting up so high. I can’t even climb up on a stepstool to change a light bulb. I’m certainly not going to go up there. Besides, I have no magic. I couldn’t get up there by myself anyway.”
As McGonagall turned and looked up at the distant Filch once more with a very downcast expression on her face, Snape spoke again with a decided lilt to his voice. “There’s no way around it Minerva. If it has to be done…apparently it has to be you. You might as well get it over with. I’ve found that delaying only makes the inevitable torture that much worse.”
McGonagall sighed and frowned at her smirking colleague. “Easy for you to say, Severus. You don’t have to play “Prince Charming.”
“No, and I fully intend to keep it that way,” he stated dryly.
Squaring her shoulders, because in a pinch Gryffindors do not shy from difficult and dangerous tasks or else they wouldn’t be Gryffindors, Minerva McGonagall stepped up to the base of the tower and accepted her fate.
“Would you like me to cast the levitation charm? That way you can keep both hands free. If you hang onto Filch’s hair you should be able to pull yourself up to him quite easily,” he offered helpfully with that smug little smile still etched annoyingly on his face. Oh how she’d love to wipe it off at the moment.
Instead she nodded, and grasped a hold of the flowing locks of the imprisoned squib. “Fine, but do be careful…please.”
“Of course. What do you take me for…one of your students?”
She smiled. “Well, you were once.”
“Yes, but that was a very long time ago, and my grades were very respectable, now weren’t they? Relax, Minerva, you have nothing to worry about…unless of course, you don’t trust me?” he drawled.
“Of course I trust you,” she said impatiently. “Let’s just get on with it.”
With a nod of agreement and a small knowing smile, Snape withdrew his wand and cast the most gentle levitation spell that he could. Basically all it did was make McGonagall nearly weightless, so she could easily pull herself up the side of the tower using Filch’s hair as a rope. She did have to be a little careful, though. If she let go, she knew she’d probably fall…although rather slowly.
The climb up the luxuriant locks of the castle caretaker took almost no time at all. When she’d pulled herself up to the window she found herself face to face with Argus Filch. Although granted, under the circumstances it was a bit difficult to be sure that it was his face she was facing. She grasped onto the ledge of the window and peered into the hairy undergrowth.
Two bleary eyes peered back. “Thank god,” exclaimed the caretaker. “Do you know how to stop this? Can you get me out of here?”
McGonagall nodded and glared sternly at Filch. “Argus, this is one of the most ridiculous things that I’ve ever seen you do. I’ve talked to the Weasley brothers about those pills that you took. How could you have been so foolish as to actually consume anything that they created? Whatever possessed you to do something like this?”
Filch wasn’t sure just what to say to that. It crossed his mind to be honest and simply admit that he was hoping that if he had more hair, she might find him attractive, but considering what a fright he must look now, he thought that that would only make her laugh at him, and that would just make him feel worse than he already did. So he thought maybe a half truth would suffice under the circumstances.
“I was just tired of losing my hair. I thought that those pills of the Weasleys’ might help. All their other stuff seemed to work. I didn’t think it’d cause any trouble. I’m sorry for all the mess…and the fuss.” He really did feel badly that she’d had to go to all this trouble for him. She had enough to worry about without him adding to her problems.
McGonagall shook her head. “Yes. The Weasleys are quite clever with their merchandise, but none of it is really meant for Muggles or squibs, apparently. They don’t have an antidote for this particular item in their catalog unfortunately.”
“What? Then what are we going to do? I can’t spend the rest of my life looking like a Hairy MacBoon. How could I get any work done? Mrs. Norris wouldn’t even recognize me,” he said glumly.
McGonagall straightened up and grasped the ledge more firmly. “Well, they did have a suggestion that might end the enchantment, Argus,” she admitted without enthusiasm.
“Well, good. What is it?”
“I need to kiss you,” she said quickly.
He went very still. “What? Did you just say that you needed to kiss me?”
She nodded reluctantly. “Yes. Apparently that’s their default trigger for ending the effect these things have on people.”
This could work out okay after all, he thought happily. He nodded and began to smooth the hair away from his mouth. “Okay then…if we have to…”
Suddenly they both heard Snape’s voice floating up to them. “Are you going to take all day at this, Minerva? I am getting a little tired of keeping you aloft, you know. Could you please just kiss the damn fool and get it over with.”
McGonagall glared down at Snape and regretted it immediately as the incredibly long drop below her feet suddenly made her very dizzy.
As she swayed in the window, Filch reached out through the hairy mess and grabbed her firmly by the arms. “He’s right, Professor. If we’re going to do it, we should get to it. I wouldn’t want you to fall.”
No. A fall from this height wouldn’t be pleasant, so the slightly dizzy witch turned once more to the mass of hair with a mouth and eyes and puckering up her lips, she closed her own eyes…bad enough she had to do this, she certainly didn’t want to have to watch…and leaned in towards him.
Filch smiled broadly and sliding his arms around her body, he leaned out of the window and kissed her…as well as he knew how.
Practically the moment their lips met there was a loud bang and both of them were suddenly engulfed in a poofy cloud of stars and smoke. Startled, they broke apart and both lost their balance. Grasping for each other as the only solid thing around them, they began to fall towards the ground together…Filch’s weight counteracting the levitation spell.
They plummeted straight down towards Snape and Figg on the ground below.
Figg covered her head, screamed bloody murder, and ran off across the lawn. Snape, fortunately, retained more of his wits. He just had enough time to conjure up a soft cushion for them to land on when they hit it dead center and bounced in opposite directions.
Snape ignored Filch and ran over to where McGonagall was sprawled on the ground a few feet from where he’d been standing. He knelt down next to her and felt for a pulse at her throat calling her name in a worried voice.
“Minerva? Minerva, wake up. Are you all right?”
The dazed witch opened her eyes and just as Snape was beginning to feel relieved, she screamed, “My god. I’m blind! I can’t see a thing.”
Snape was horrified…while he’d been absolutely certain that kissing Filch would have struck him blind…he assumed that Minerva wouldn’t have had any such difficulty.
Then as he bent over her, he could suddenly tell that the blindness had vanished as quickly as it came…but now she was looking at him very…strangely.
Warily he spoke to her, “Minerva? Are you okay?”
She smiled happily and threw her arms around him. “Oh, Severus…of course I’m okay…as long as you’re with me.”
Alarmed at this turn of events, he gasped but before he could pull away…she kissed him. It was no ordinary kiss either. One of her hands slid into his hair and the other snaked up and around his torso and she quickly pulled him as close as she could get him while she kissed him deeply with all of the passion that she was capable of. Which turned out to be a great deal more than most people would have expected. Although surprised at first, it didn’t take long before Snape’s arms were clutching at her just as avidly and he was kissing her back with every indication of enjoying it every bit as much as she seemed to.
Figg and Filch, who’d managed to pick himself up off the ground and wade out of the hairy mess that he’d bounced into, simply stood there and gaped at the magical pair who were sinuously entwined on the ground. Their kiss seemed to go on for quite a long time and get more rather than less passionate.
Filch was appalled, while Figg was amused. Then finally when things looked as if they might move on from the kissing stage to the undressing stage, a shiver seemed to run through McGonagall and she abruptly pulled back and sat up with a horrified expression on her deeply flushed face.
“Oh my goodness! What came over me?” she gasped in a shocked tone.
Snape smirked at her and sat up. “It must have been a little added bonus courtesy of the Weasley brothers. It would be just like them.”
Incredibly embarrassed, McGonagall got quickly to her feet, and seeing that Filch seemed to be perfectly fine and thus that her presence was probably not required any longer, she pressed her hands to her flaming cheeks, muttered an apology, and turned around and ran off heading back to the entrance to the castle as quickly as she decently could.
Snape watched her go and felt himself torn. Should he go after her? Or not? Filch came up beside him and the natural impulse to berate the caretaker for the trouble he’d caused them took over. “Filch that had to be the most idiotic thing I’ve ever seen you do. What possessed you?” he demanded.
Filch, whose excess hair seemed to have detached itself during the explosion, looked rather embarrassed himself as he answered sheepishly, “I just thought it would be nice to have a bit more hair.”
Snape snorted in amusement. “Trying to become a bit more attractive for the ladies?”
Both sets of male eyes followed Minerva’s retreating form as it vanished around the edge of the castle walls.
“Seems stupid, I guess,” admitted Filch.
“In your case, I’d guess it would also be utterly futile. The truly stupid thing about this was not your motives, but your means. How you of all people could ever think to trust a Weasley, I simply cannot imagine. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to see someone about a ticket…rather urgently.” Snape’s eyes were drifting off towards where McGonagall had so recently vanished and he began moving away, following in her footsteps.
He called back over his shoulder as he broke into a run. “Don’t forget to clean up this mess, Filch!” Then he too vanished around the side of the castle.
As Filch stood there and stared after the departed Snape, he mentally compared the two kisses that this spell had compelled, and suddenly felt that he’d ended up with the short end of the stick…as usual. Oh well…what did he need with some woman fawning over him anyway? Especially a witch. He knew what they were like after all. She’d always be bossing him around. Which was absolutely the last thing he needed. Best to leave things as they were.
Figg came up beside him and touched him on the arm in concern. “You okay, Argus?”
Filch sighed. “Yeah. Sure. Just feeling really stupid. All that time, money, and effort wasted on something that ended up causing me nothing but trouble.”
Wanting to cheer him up, she nudged him and winked. “So how’d it feel to be kissing the Deputy Headmistress of the school? Although I do tend to think that she saved the best one for old Snape. Frankly I didn’t think Minerva had it in her…from her expression, I don’t think she thought so either.” Mrs. Figg smiled to herself while she remembered her last glimpse of Minerva’s extremely embarrassed face.
Glaring at his friend, a suddenly flushed Filch snapped, “Oh give it a rest, Bella. I’m just glad to be out of that tower and rid of all that hair. If I ever decide that I need to change anything about myself by magical means again…kill me quick, would you?”
Mrs. Figg chuckled. “You got yourself a deal, Argus.”
Filch turned around and stared at the mound of silky hair that sat next to the tower wall. “Well…I suppose I’d better get to work finding some way to dispose of all that hair.”
Mrs. Figg put her arm through his, turned him around, and began to lead him away from the tower. “Nah. That can wait, Argus. Maybe the owls will take care of it for you. They might appreciate having such nice nest building material for a change. You need a little break. I think you’ve been through enough for one day, don’t you?”
Filch couldn’t really summon up the energy to argue with her about that one. This had to be one of the longest days he’d ever lived through…and it was hardly half over.
“Tell you what, Argus. We’ll go back to the castle and have the house elves make us a nice salad out of that rampion that I brought for you, then you and I’ll head off for a bit of relaxation at the Hog’s Head. Doesn’t that sound like the perfect ending to a horrible day?”
Filch nodded and fell into step with her. “You’re right, Bella. I do need a bit of a pick me up and some rampion and a few firewhiskys should hit the spot nicely.”
Mrs. Figg nodded sagely. “Yup…get enough firewhisky into you and no matter what your day was like, you can’t help but feel as if you’ll live happily ever after.”
~The End~