Harry Potter Harry Potter And The Power Of Verbal Voodoo

author: Zed Leppelin | fandom: Harry Potter / Verbal Voodoo | pairing: Ha! Wait and see! |   
rating: PG | summary: Hermione gains the power of verbal voodoo. | status: New, finished | date: 13 - 14 April 2001 | e-mail: zed@swansongs.net | series/sequel: It's a spin-off to the Verbal Voodoo series which can be found at http://www.verbalvoodoo.co.uk/stories/. I suppose I might write a sequel one day. | webpage: http://www.verbalvoodoo.co.uk | disclaimer: All the characters belong to J. K. Rowling and her publishers, except Helen Shaw / the gypsy / the witch, who I invented, and CZ, Unofficial Queen Of PVC / CZ, Queen Of Bloxed and The Almighty Author, both of whom represent me. | dedication: For Sofie for she is cool. And I've stolen her format without her permission. | author's notes: Reading the Verbal Voodoo series isn't essential, as everything you need to know about it is explained in this story . . . but read it anyway! As far as Harry Potter time goes, this story is set near the start of any of Harry's final five years at Hogwarts. As far as Verbal Voodoo time goes, it's set a few months after "The Verbal Voodoo Strikes Back". This makes little sense, since Harry Potter is thought to have attended Hogwarts between 1991 and 1998, and TVVSB happens in 2003. But, as a pseudo-punk, I don't care. |   
  
Harry Potter And The Power Of Verbal Voodoo  
  
Something was playing on Hermione Granger's mind. She wasn't quite sure what it was playing - an extremely violent game of Quidditch, probably - but that wasn't the point.  
  
Since the new school year had started, Draco Malfoy had been more obnoxious than ever before. Hermione was used to him being mean to her and her closest friends, Harry and Ron. All of Ron's family, for that matter. And everyone who came from a poor background. And anyone who was Muggle-born. And Neville. Actually, all of Gryffindor house. And Hufflepuff, as a rule. But lately, everyone had been the victim of his biting remarks, even his best friends, Crabbe and Goyle, although, in their stupidity, they put up with the torment. Every time Hermione saw him, he was laughing at someone's expense. However, he was careful that none of the teachers discovered this.  
  
Everyone wanted to put an end to this behaviour, but no one knew what to do. They had tried being nice, trying to find out if there was anything wrong at home, beating him up, putting spells on him, but nothing had any effect. Hermione, however, had an alternative idea.  
  
Towards the end of last term, she'd been visited by a number of strange people (strange in both the "unfamiliar" and "weird" senses), asking if where they could find out about verbal voodoo. Hermione had only heard about verbal voodoo by surfing the Internet in the holidays, where she'd come across a story concerning it. The people turned out to be the characters in the story, and they were wondering if any information about the power was kept at Hogwarts. Hermione had stolen into the restricted section of the library under Harry's invisibility cloak, and removed a book where it was mentioned, which she'd given to them.  
  
Now, she was thinking it might be useful to have the power of verbal voodoo herself, for possessing it meant that anything you wrote down would happen. She could turn Draco into a terrifically nice person simply by writing a sentence.  
  
The only hindrance was the visitors still had the book, to the best of her knowledge. However, that could be corrected. She wrote a letter to CZ, Unofficial Queen Of PVC, asking her to return it. She addressed the envelope to "CZ, Unofficial Queen Of PVC, The Castle (Formerly) Of Bloxed, The (Former) Queendom Of Bloxed, England" and got one of the school owls to deliver it.  
  
Two days later, at breakfast time, a flock of owls flew into the Great Hall, and one of them swooped in Hermione's general direction. It wasn't struggling under the weight of a hefty book; it just presented her a thin white and distinctly Muggle-ish envelope before flying off. It was the sort of envelope her parents used all the time, but the writing on it was unfamiliar.   
  
She opened it, and read the note inside. "Dear Hermione, I have sent the spell book back to the restricted section of the library by the power of verbal voodoo. However, to save you from having to get it out again, if you wish to give someone the ability to use verbal voodoo, simply say their name and then "oodoov labrev". Happy writing, CZ, Queen Of Bloxed (once more)." There was a coat of arms after her name, the design consisting of Tetris pieces.   
  
"Excellent," Hermione said to herself. Now all she needed was something to write with.   
  
She decided not to delay over her dealing with Draco. She encountered him as she was leaving the Great Hall, and he muttered "Ugly Muggly" under his breath. She wasn't going to stand for that. In the empty girls' dormitory, she pointed her wand at herself and said, "Hermione Granger, oodoov labrev". A shower of sparks escaped from the end of her wand, and curled around her body. Well, that was an easy spell, she thought. She hid the letter a long way under her mattress. (She reasoned it would be better if Lavender Brown didn't come across it. She was always writing notes to Parvati Patil about how much she loved so-and-so, when she didn't really, but if she acquired verbal voodoo, it would really happen.) Now it was time to test it out the power. She found a piece of parchment and wrote, "Suddenly, Draco Malfoy turned into a terrifically nice person."   
  
She hid the parchment too, then gathered her books and set off for double Potions, a spring in her step. It was hardly her favourite lesson (or anyone's favourite), but if her words had had any effect, the second worst aspect of a Potions lesson would have been removed. And if verbal voodoo had worked on Draco, she would use it on the worst aspect - Professor Snape - as well.   
  
It wasn't long before she found out. Outside the classroom, she encountered Draco again. "Hi Hermione," he said, cheerfully. "Nice morning, isn't it?" There wasn't a hint of his usual languid sarcasm in his voice.   
  
Yes! It had worked beautifully! "Well, despite the fact that it's raining, it was until you called me an Ugly Muggly at breakfast," Hermione said.   
  
"Did I?" Draco said. "Wow, I'm awfully sorry about that. I don't know what I was thinking. I must have been asleep and having a bad dream. You'll forgive me, won't you?"   
  
"Well . . ." said Hermione. "You seem to have had a lot of nightmares while sleepwalking over the last few years."   
  
"Oh no. Hermione, if I've ever been nasty to you, I don't know what the cause of it was, but I'm dreadfully sorry, and I'll make it up to you from now on. Can I give you a hug?"   
  
"Ok." She didn't particularly want to be hugged by Draco - he was still fundamentally the same person; only her tampering had changed his attitude - but the prospect was far too amusing to resist. Draco gave her a tight hug that went on and on. She didn't know how much longer she could hold back her giggles.   
  
"Children!" snapped the voice of Professor Snape (or snaped the voice of Professor Snapp), which drove them quickly apart. "I don't know what you're doing, but you're about to be late for my lesson." He slipped past them into the classroom. Now they were late. Yes, Snape was definitely going to get the verbal voodoo treatment.   
  
"I'm awfully sorry about that," Draco said. "Look, if he punishes you, I'll stick up for you, ok? I'll tell him it was my fault."   
  
This was too good to be true. Draco, Snape's favourite pupil for the last few years, was prepared to get himself into more trouble for Hermione's benefit.   
  
They went into the classroom. "Granger! Malfoy! You're late," he said. "Five points from Gryffindor AND Slytherin." Everyone looked at each other in silent surprise. Whatever a Slytherin pupil did wrong, it was very rare for Snape to deduct points from his own house.   
  
"Don't deduct points from Gryffindor! It was me who made Hermione late!" Draco pleaded, which put an end to the other pupils' silence. Audible gasps could be heard from across the room. When would Draco ever stick up for Gryffindor, especially on Hermione's behalf?   
  
"Don't argue, boy!" Snape told him. "Or I'll deduct another five points from Gryffindor, since you're acting like one. Now sit down!"   
  
Hermione and Draco found seats. "Sorry," he whispered. "I'll make it up to you somehow."   
  
Draco's strange behaviour continued throughout the lesson. When he came over to where Harry and Ron were trying to make a potion of strength, they braced themselves for the usual abuse. But when Draco said, "Hi Harry, hi Ron, how's the potion going?" in a tone of voice they didn't recognise, they were too taken aback to say anything.   
  
"Um, it's ok," Ron stuttered, eventually.   
  
"Well, mine's coming along quite nicely. If you have any problems with yours, let me know, and I'll lend a hand," he said. Bang! They all looked across the room, and saw that something in Neville's cauldron had exploded, and hot, yellow, viscous liquid was now seeping down its sides. "Oh dear, look's like Neville's in a spot of trouble," Draco said. "Better go and see if I can assist. Talk to you later." He headed off to Neville's bench.   
  
"What on earth has got into him?" Harry whispered to Ron.   
  
Ron shook his head. "I don't know. It's a pleasant change, but it's too good to be true. Am I dreaming?"   
  
Hermione came over at that point, since she'd finished her potion; which struck Harry as slightly surprising, because, for once, she'd seemed to be having a bit of trouble with it earlier on. "Do you know what's happened to Malfoy?" Harry asked. He didn't expect an answer, only for her to agree to the weirdness of his long-term enemy's behaviour.   
  
"I'll tell you about it later," Hermione said.   
  
  
"Wow!" Ron said. After the lesson, before lunch, Hermione had summoned them to the deserted Gryffindor common room and told them about verbal voodoo. She tried not to keep anything a secret from them, as doing so usually caused difficulties. Besides, she didn't see why they shouldn't know. "What else are you going to do with it?"   
  
"Well, I'm going to make Snape nice, for a start," she said.   
  
"No arguments here," Harry said. "He knocked another five points off Gryffindor just because our potion was the wrong colour, even though it worked perfectly well."   
  
"A bit too well, if anything," Ron said. "I accidentally bumped into Dean after the lesson and he fell right over."   
  
Hermione found some parchment and a quill. "Professor Snape became perfectly nice," she wrote. "He never deducted any points from any house again and decided to give back the one's he'd taken this morning."   
  
"What, even those from Slytherin?" Harry asked.   
  
"It's only fair," Hermione said. "Slytherin got them because I'd made Malfoy nice. I'll make sure we win the cup though, of course."   
  
"Can you put that he never forced us to make impossible potions again?" Ron asked.   
  
"He never forced his pupils to make difficult potions again," Hermione wrote, "never mind impossible ones, and he apologised for doing this in the past."   
  
Harry rubbed his hands together with glee. "This is too good!" he exclaimed.   
  
"Right, I think that's sorted him out," Ron said. "Now, who else do we know that's evil?"   
  
"Voldemort?" Harry suggested.   
  
"Don't say that!" Hermione cried. "But yes, why not? Now, let's think, how could we deal with him most effectively?"   
  
"Killing him?" Ron said. "I can't see that making him terrifically nice would work. After all, he's got his supporters, who could probably persuade him to return to his old ways."   
  
"We can't just kill him, though," Harry protested.   
  
"He's tried to kill you enough times," Hermione pointed out. "And I hardly think he's likely to change his tune any time soon."   
  
"But it's still murder," Harry said.   
  
"In self-defence," Ron argued. "Seriously, Harry, the whole wizarding world will be happy to see him bumped off. If anyone finds out we're responsible we'll be given awards, not sentences in Azkaban."   
  
(The Almighty Author wondered, for a moment, why it was called "the wizarding world" and not "the witching and wizarding world". It was a bit of a mouthful, but a lot less sexist.)   
  
"It's just far too easy," Harry said. "I mean, I've been fighting him for so long that you can't just destroy him by writing, 'Voldem- um, He Who Must Not Be Named - died'."   
  
"You can't surely want him to stay alive though, putting your lives and those of your friends at risk?" Hermione asked.   
  
"Oh, all right then. Kill him."   
  
Hermione hesitated. "I'll have to write his proper name, won't I?"   
  
"You could put Tom Marvolo Riddle, if you have to," Harry said.   
  
"Good point," Hermione said, and wrote, "Tom Marvolo Riddle died."   
  
"And all his supporters forgot about him and became terrifically nice people," Ron said. She wrote it.   
  
"The Dursleys' next," Harry said, and they were all turned into terrifically nice people who had no objection to Harry being a wizard at all. Then they made Argus Filch and Peeves into much more pleasant characters. They had a bit of an argument about the dementors - Harry wanted them to stop existing, but Hermione refused to write that, on the grounds that they acted as a deterrent for committing crimes. They settled on "Harry ceased to be affected by dementors."   
  
After that, they were pretty sure they had run out of inherently evil people to write about. (Crabbe and Goyle, for instance, they were pretty sure followed only in their fathers' and Malfoy's footsteps, and with all of them terrifically nice, Crabbe and Goyle would quickly become similarly inclined.) And so they wondered what else they could do with the power.   
  
"We ought to give Neville verbal voodoo," Ron suggested. "Then all the homework he does will be correct."   
  
"With all due respect to Neville, that would really mess the universe up," Hermione pointed out. "But how about we make Dumbledore fall in love with Professor McGonagall?"   
  
"Now that would be funny," Ron said. "Go for it!"   
  
"Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall fell madly in love with each other," Hermione wrote, reading aloud as she did.   
  
"What?" a voice asked. They looked up from the parchment to see Lavender Brown climbing in through the portrait hole. In their excitement, they hadn't seen her coming in.   
  
"Oh, nothing," Hermione said, quickly shoving the parchment up one of her sleeves.   
  
"You're about to miss lunch, you know," Lavender said.   
  
They all went downstairs. They didn't speak any more about verbal voodoo, knowing that it was best to keep it a secret from the other students, but each of them was thinking about things they could do with it.   
  
  
The moment Hermione completed her last sentence, Albus Dumbledore had a strange feeling. He was having lunch with the other teachers. When the meal began, he'd been thinking about how Snape seemed a lot more pleasant today, but now he was listening to Minerva McGonagall talking about how useless her first year students were at Transfiguration. "I tried to get them to turn a button into a beetle this morning and not one of them managed it. None of them ever came near. The furthest anyone of them got was a button with a leg. One solitary leg. And it's not the first time this has happened . . ."   
  
He suddenly really admired her. Of course, he'd always admired her, since she'd begun her job here, for her intelligence, thoroughness and strictness, but in an entirely professional manner. This was different. Now everything about her - the way she talked, the methodical way she ate, working her way from one side of the plate to the other, the way her square glasses stayed firmly perched on her nose regardless of the orientation of her head - enchanted him. (Although not in the technical sense, naturally.) Gosh, this was a funny feeling. He hadn't felt like this since he was here as a pupil and had become infatuated by a Hufflepuff girl when he was in his sixth year.   
  
Was it love? It couldn't be - he had worked with Minerva for years, and had never seen her in this light before. Things couldn't change so suddenly. Yet suddenly wanted to hold her in his arms, to take her fine ebony hair out of its bun and run his fingers through it-   
  
He suddenly noticed that she was staring at him. Quickly, he looked away. How long had he been watching her, and how intently? If he continued to feel this way, she must never find out about it. It was unprofessional behaviour, and at any rate, she was eighty years younger than him. She might be on her way to old age - there were a couple of strands of the finest spun silver on head - but it would still be paedophilia.   
  
But how could he talk to her, even look at her, when he felt like this? And how could he focus on anything else?   
  
He tried to turn back to his food, but the corner of his eye caught sight of Minerva's emerald robes, and all he wanted to do was discover what lay beneath them.   
  
He couldn't stay here any longer. "I've just remembered something I have to do," he said, interrupting something Professor Flitwick was saying. He was aware of the other teachers looking at him strangely - he had probably never left lunch in this manner before - but he stood up without an explanation - he couldn't think of one - and quickly made his way out of the Great Hall. "Think about socks," he told himself, but he could barely remember what socks were, much less why he'd ever wanted them. All he wanted was Minerva McGonagall.   
  
  
By the following evening, the effects of Hermione's verbal voodoo were evident. Malfoy, Snape, Filch and Peeves, whenever encountered, had been exceptionally polite and kindly. Excited rumours about Voldemort's death were flying round the school. Ginny and Colin Creevey were going out with each other, their obsessions with Harry forgotten. Professor Trelawney had agreed with all Harry and Ron's predictions for the future. The Fat Lady was wearing a blue silk dress today. (That had been the silliest thing they'd done, but Hermione argued, "It must get awfully smelly if you wear the same dress year in year out.") The list of changes, good and simply amusing, went on. Naturally, the other students wondered what was going on, but no one had even an inkling as to what it was.   
  
The only change that didn't appear to have come into effect quite as they had intended was making Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall fall in love. It had obviously happened. At the staff table, they were concentrating on not looking at each other, and forgetting to eat the Every Flavour Beans that had been served today (as a result of verbal voodoo, of course). But this was clearly because neither of them had the courage to admit to the other how they felt.   
  
Hermione knew how to change this though. After she'd done her homework that evening (homework had to take priority over verbal voodoo, no matter how much fun it was), she wrote, "Albus Dumbledore's love for Minerva McGonagall could not be vanquished. He thought about nothing but her all day and all night. He could bear it no longer, so he decided to tell her how he felt, and did so."   
  
  
Albus Dumbledore was sitting in his office. A huge pile of unopened owl mail lay on his desk. All day, he had been doodling hearts with "AD 4 MM" in them and looking in the mirror of Erised, in which he naturally saw his loved one. It was very difficult to tear himself away from it. It was childish behaviour, like that of a silly schoolgirl, but no matter how many times he told himself to stop, he found himself at it again a few minutes later. Occasionally, he glanced up at Fawkes, who was looking at him with an extremely disapproving expression.   
  
Suddenly, he knew he had to take action, whatever the result might be. He stood up, left his office, and started towards hers.   
  
When he reached it, he knocked on the door. "Come in," Minerva called from inside, and he entered. "Oh!" she said, upon the sight of him. She sounded flustered.   
  
"Minerva," he said. "I don't know how I should tell you this and I wish I didn't have to, but I must. I love you!"   
  
"Oh!" Minerva said, for a second time, this time in an even more shocked tone. "I love you too!"   
  
Incredible! He felt his heart soar in his chest, like a Quidditch player when the first whistle was blown.   
  
But he wasn't quite sure how to proceed from there. He'd never had any success with girls before, never mind women. Minerva looked similarly hesitant - he didn't suppose she was very experienced either. "Can I hug you?" he asked, eventually, awkwardly.   
  
She didn't answer, simply walked over, and put her arms around him. He held her tightly. He looked into her sparkling eyes, for a moment, then kissed her on the lips.   
  
"Ohhhhh!" she said. Her vocabulary was a bit limited tonight, but this was an "ohhhhh" of ecstasy.   
  
  
They half-lay, half-sat in Minerva's single bed, their arms around each other. "How long have you felt this way?" she asked. She looked wonderful in her tartan bathrobe and hairnet.   
  
"It is most curious," Dumbledore said. "Up until lunchtime yesterday, I had never thought of you as anything other than an esteemed colleague. Then, all of a sudden, I was in love."   
  
"It was the same with me!" she said. "How curious." She paused. "Have you noticed any other strange things going on recently?"   
  
Dumbledore hadn't noticed much over the last thirty-six hours. But now he thought about it, a few things did seem different to the norm. Professor Snape was decidedly more amicable than usual, and the kids and teachers alike seemed excited about something, although he had no idea what it was. "Yes," he said. "A few things."   
  
"There's something in the air," Minerva said. "There seems to be less tension, somehow. But things are weird too. Dinner left a curious taste in my mouth this evening."   
  
Dumbledore thought for a while. "You know," he said, "I'm beginning to think someone might be using verbal voodoo."   
  
"Verbal voodoo? What's that?" She sounded slightly disapproving, probably because voodoo was generally considered a dodgy form of magic.   
  
Dumbledore sighed. "Do you remember Helen Shaw?" he asked. "She would be a few years below you when you were a pupil here."   
  
"Yes," Minerva McGonagall said. "Three years younger than me. A Ravenclaw. I never had much cause to talk to her, though. I don't think anyone did."   
  
"That's right," Dumbledore said. "A very quiet girl, who kept herself to herself. Studied hard. Read a lot, books that weren't necessary for her lessons. When I became a teacher here, I encouraged her academic interest, of course. When she asked me for permission to take a book out of the restricted section of the library, which she'd heard about, I naturally gave it.   
  
"A few days later, it was clear that something strange was going on. Suddenly, things weren't the way you expected them to be. Not in the usual Hogwarts fashion, but in a distinctly weird manner. Some of the changes were good. There were a couple of young hooligans around at the time, second years, who terrorised everyone and everything, but one day, they stopped, and became respectable young wizards.   
  
"One of the girls in fourth year was terribly upset when she received an owl telling her that her mother had died, but the following day, another one appeared telling her that her mother was alive after all. When we - the staff - investigated this, the circumstances turned out to be even more bizarre than we'd initially thought. The girl's house had burnt down, and her mother had died in the fire, as she was a Muggle and couldn't use a Flame-Freezing Charm. Suddenly, however, the house was in perfect condition and the woman alive.   
  
"And do you remember Madam Spittle?"   
  
"How could I not?" Minerva McGonagall said. "She terrorised me for seven years, when I was a pupil, but when I returned as a teacher, she was perfectly affable. I thought she must just hate pupils and respected fellow teachers, but from what I picked up, she was well-liked by the students too. It had been a long time since I'd last seen her, though, so I thought it possible for her to have changed."   
  
"Yes, she changed, at the time when the other things occurred, but not on her own accord.   
  
"Some of the events weren't so good. It wasn't that they were bad, they were just silly. A third year girl, who'd always been a bit sentimental, suddenly started coming to my office every few hours and staring at me with a lovesick expression on her face until I forced her to leave. The staff often reported that they'd felt the need to discuss completely irrelevant matters in the middle of her lessons. And one morning, no one could find the Great Hall.   
  
"I wondered what could be at the root of it all? What had brought on this sudden spurt of nonsense? It was magic I'd never encountered before, so I couldn't see how a pupil, who was presumably causing it, could be responsible for it. However, after a great deal of thought, I suddenly remembered Helen Shaw's request. I asked Madam Pince what book she'd borrowed, and started to read it. That's where I came across verbal voodoo: if you had the power, when you wrote something down, it would happen. This was presumably what Helen Shaw had, and I confronted her about it.   
  
"Since she hadn't caused any real mischief, I didn't punish her. I simply forced her to put right all that she'd wronged, and watched over her as she did so. Naturally, I didn't force her to reverse the changes that had brought about good. Finally, I saw her write, 'Then Helen Shaw's verbal voodoo' stopped working, and that was the end of it."   
  
"What happened to her?" Minerva asked.   
  
"That, I am not sure about. Although she could presumably remember how to give herself the power of verbal voodoo, she never did. Or if she did, she was very discreet about it. However, when she left Hogwarts, she was never heard from again."   
  
"Well," Minerva said, "in that case, it definitely sounds like one of our present students has found the power."   
  
"Which one though?" Dumbledore asked. "I'll find out who's borrowed that book from the library tomorrow. For now, though, shall we sleep?"   
  
They shuffled down the bed, and snuggled close.   
  
  
When Professor Dumbledore asked Madam Pince the following morning whether anyone had taken out the book in question, she replied that they hadn't. Dumbledore asked if he could check to see whether the book was there - someone might have sneaked into the library and removed it, but it was present. However, if they had the ability to take it out in the first place, they could easily put it back.   
  
Who was capable of getting in, though? It wasn't long before the answer came to him: Harry Potter, using the invisibility cloak.   
  
Before Dumbledore searched for him, he consulted the book and gave himself the power of verbal voodoo. If his suspicions were correct, it would be useful.   
  
He found Harry, Ron and Hermione together in Gryffindor common room. When he walked in, Hermione quickly concealed something that looked like a piece of parchment, which would tie in the fact that she was holding a quill and there was a bottle of ink on the table.   
  
"Do you three know anything about verbal voodoo?" he asked them.   
  
"I have it," Hermione answered.   
  
"How did you find out about it?" he asked. If it was from the same source as Helen had - probably a book Hermione had read - he would destroy it, or at least eliminate the mention of verbal voodoo from it, to prevent such chaos occurring in the future.   
  
"Well," Hermione said. "It all began when an old woman, presumed to be a gypsy, arrived at the castle of CZ, Queen Of Bloxed, and offered to sell her verbal voodoo. The Queen bought it, as did some of her friends. However, a few years later, the woman used verbal voodoo to travel back in time, where she was promptly killed. The moment before she died, she wrote, 'Everyone's verbal voodoo stopped working.'   
  
"When the Queen ran into difficulty, she wondered if there was any way of getting verbal voodoo back. She discovered that the so-called gypsy was probably a witch, and wondered where she could find out about verbal voodoo. It occurred to her to try Hogwarts, and so she came here and asked me to find a book in which it was mentioned. I managed to do so, and lent it to her. Recently, though, I've wanted to try it out myself."   
  
"Aha," Dumbledore said. "The witch must have been Helen Shaw. Poor thing."   
  
"Helen Shaw?" Ron asked.   
  
"A former pupil here, who discovered how to use verbal voodoo."   
  
"We could use it to bring her back to life," Harry suggested.   
  
"Best not to mess with fate," Dumbledore told them. "Which is why, I think you'll understand, I'll have to make you lose your power of verbal voodoo. How many of you have it?"   
  
"Just me," Hermione said.   
  
"And since you'll no doubt remember the spell to give yourself the power, I'll have to make you all forget about the whole affair. I would use Memory Charms, but I think verbal voodoo will work just as well." The three pupils nodded. They'd had their fun. "Can I borrow your quill and parchment, Hermione?"   
  
She handed them to him, and he began to write (below the line "Bertie Bott stopped making spinach flavoured beans, even though this meant calling them 'Every Flavour Except Spinach Beans' in accordance to the Trade Descriptions Act"). "Hermione lost the ability to do verbal voodoo," he read out loud, as he wrote, "and all the effects of her use of verbal voodoo came undone."   
  
He felt relieved, not to be in love with Minerva any more. Last night had been very nice, but it wouldn't have been wise to pursue a relationship with her. People would have found out about it sooner or later.   
  
"No no no!" Ron protested. "You've just brought You-Know-Who back to life!"   
  
Dumbledore hesitated for a second. He hadn't known they'd done anything about Voldemort, although that would explain what all the gossip was about. Then he smiled, and raised the quill again, ready to make them forget about the power. "Voldemort never hurt anyone," he said.   
  
"Yeah, he just killed them," Harry agreed.   
  
"Besides," Dumbledore said, ignoring him. "If you come to any harm, I'm sure I can make an exception to my policy of not messing with fate and write you out of it . . ." 


End file.

Harry Potter, Humor, Romance