Retexo Oppedo, a harry potter fanfic

What happens when Ron swallows the dreaded Retexo Oppedo potion? I invented this potion in my story 'Pillow Fight!' but here's what happens when an unsuspecting Gryffindor gets a dose of it!

------------------------------

Retexo Oppedo

"I asked you a question, Mr. Weasley," the Transfiguration mistress repeated curtly. "What did you say to upset Mr. Filch?"

A very distressed Ron lifted his gaze to Professor McGonagall and sighed heavily. He turned to the murderous caretaker standing next to him, who was still holding him by his collar, having marched the boy into the mistress's office demanding that Ron be strung up by his ankles from the Whomping Willow for the next twenty-four hours.

The Gryffindor cleared his throat and addressed Filch in a strangled voice. "I think your robes are most flattering and your hair has never looked more radiant." Ron looked as though he was about to cry.

Filch snarled and took a threatening step towards the quivering boy.

The corners of Professor McGonagall's lips twitched. "Retexo Oppedo?" she asked, peering over her spectacles to give Ron a sidelong glance.

Ron nodded dejectedly. Within minutes of engaging in a verbal battle with Filch half and hour ago regarding the whereabouts of Mrs. Norris, it hadn't taken him long to recognise his symptoms as being those of the dreaded potion. He fixed his eyes on the floor. He didn't dare look at Filch or the Transfiguration mistress lest he declare his undying love for either of them.

"Thank you Mr. Filch, I'll deal with this." Professor McGonagall dismissed him from the room with a nod and turned her beady eye back to Ron.

"I'm sure you are aware, Mr. Weasley, of the school rules regarding the use of unapproved potions."

Ron heaved a sigh.

"Yes, Professor."

"One foot of parchment detailing the origins and approved uses of the Retexo Oppedo potion on my desk by the end of the week please."

"Yes, Professor."

But the final blow was yet to come:

"And detention this evening with Professor Snape," she finished, her lips twitching. There was a definite gleam in her eyes.

Ron gulped. "No – please Professor – what if he talks to me? What if he – what if he asks me what I think of him or something?"

"I'll tell him to expect you at seven-o-clock." She swept out of the room.

Ron exhaled angrily. Whenever he got his hands on whoever had slipped him that potion, he was going to KILL them.

------------------------------

At a little past a quarter to seven that evening Ron rounded the final corner that separated him from the dungeons - and felt his heart drop to his boots.

"Is that…? Oh no…." Ron ducked behind the nearest gargoyle and fixed his gaze on the ground, his face reddening. Of all the people to walk into…. Why was this school suddenly full of Slytherins?

Moments earlier, Ron had left the relative safety of the Gryffindor common room (where he had spent the whole day sulking since the incident with Filch that morning) to head towards the dungeons for his looming detention. Harry was accompanying him on his journey – an afterthought on Hermione's part - to relieve Ron of the potentially embarrassing ordeal of having to speak, should he come across anyone on the way. An unforeseen encounter with the Slytherin Blaise Zabini had already proved this to be a good idea. Blaise had made a cutting remark to Ron, purposely bumping shoulders with him as he passed, and Ron had just been about to scathingly reply how lovely Blaise's eyes were when Harry had managed to butt in with an insult just in the nick of time.

But if that had been the warm-up act, this was the main event. Because now, standing less than ten feet away from the two Gryffindors, was none other than Draco Malfoy. Although doing his best to camouflage with his surroundings, it didn't help that Ron was nearly a foot taller than the gargoyle that he was trying to hide behind. The result was a rather odd looking hybrid of a bronze image of Hestia the Hunted with a shock of red hair and four feet.

Ron glanced at his watch and realised that he had less than ten minutes to spare before he was due in the dungeons. Taking a deep breath, he decided to bite the bullet and make a run for it.

He practically bulldozed ahead in his effort to make as hasty a getaway as humanly possible, but, unfortunately for him, Draco's resident bodyguards (or body-snatchers, as Harry and Ron affectionately called them) Crabbe and Goyle blocked his path. Ron had the sudden disturbing urge, under the potion's influence, to ask what shampoo Goyle used to make his hair so shiny. He kept his lips firmly pressed together. Spying an approaching Draco out of the corner of his eye, his hands immediately flew to his mouth to prevent anything incriminating spouting out. Unfortunately, the result was so forceful that he also cut off his oxygen supply. His face slowly turned blue at the effort.

Draco, never being one to pass up an opportunity, sauntered up. "What's the matter Weasley?" he sneered. "Swallowed some of your mother's cooking?"

Ron barely had time to react before, all of a sudden, his twin brothers Fred and George appeared from an adjoining corridor. With one look at the little crowd gathered before them, they grinned widely. They both knew full well that the potion they had secretly slipped into their younger brother's pumpkin juice that morning would still be running riot through his bloodstream.

They cleared their throats loudly to signal their arrival and approached the group. Fred - or is it George? – gave a pompous cough and addressed Ron solemnly. "Dearest brother, youngest sibling, spawn of -" His twin nudged him at this and motioned with his hand to get on with it with an air of mock impatience.

"Oh, sorry, got a bit carried away there." Fred said to his twin. "Where was I…. Ah yes…." He turned back to his younger brother. "Ronald I really must extend my heartfelt apologies." He offered his hand to a very bewildered Ron. "I was clearly acting under the Imperius curse when I so unforgivably polluted your morning beverage with that rather unfortunate potion, and I would be most grateful if you could find it in your heart to overlook this temporary lapse in our otherwise wonderful relationship."

Ron's ears turned pink at this sudden revelation and he looked as though he might explode or implode or possibly both.

The other twin performed a small bow before he too extended his own hand to Ron. "Ronald Bilius Weas -" But Ronald Bilius Weasley was having none of it. With a growl he lunged for the nearest of the exasperating double-act and grunted when the red-haired boy whipped himself just out of reach. Fred and George dissolved into fits of laughter as they danced lightly out of reach of Ron's haphazard attempts to grab at them. They were clearly enjoying being the object of their younger brother's murderous intentions.

A few unsuccessful swipes later, they ran off, holding onto their sides, tears forming in their eyes.

Draco, who had watched the entire charade with a lazily raised eyebrow, was now clearly relishing in this newfound information.

"Well, well…." he drawled. "Let your guard down did you Weasley? What potion did they slip you?"

"VERITASERUM!" Fred hollered down the corridor, just before he and George rounded the corner for the last time and disappeared from view. Their chuckles faded into the distance.

Ron's eyes widened with horror. What were his brothers trying to do to him?

"The truth telling potion?" Draco raised his eyebrows in amusement. "Go on then," he taunted Ron. "Tell me what you really think of me."

Ron struggled to keep his mouth shut. He was now purple.

"Go on, I can handle it," Draco sneered, thoroughly enjoying himself.

Ron's vice-like grip on his mouth seemed to be faltering.

"As I thought," Draco hissed, his lips curling. "You never were one for -"

"YOU ARE THE SEXIEST BOY I'VE EVER LAID EYES ON AND IF EVERYONE WEREN'T STANDING RIGHT HERE I'D -"

Ron had never received a punch so gladly in all his life.

------------------------------

"You're late."

Ron scurried through the doorway and slung his bag beneath the desk nearest the door. He hastily seated himself, taking care not to nestle too comfortably on the stool in case a quick getaway was called for.

Snape looked up from his desk, his sallow face contrasting sharply with the blackness of the board behind him.

"I said - you're LATE."

Silence.

More silence.

Ron didn't dare open his mouth.

Snape mistook Ron's fixed gaze upon the desk for a silent apology.

"Chapter twelve from your Potions textbook. Copy it. No talking."

Ron was only too glad to obey.

Snape wordlessly continued adding ingredients to the glowing cauldron on his desk. It was a rare type of Barley-Byce cauldron, Ron noticed. Cylindrical in shape and named after the duo that invented it, it was specifically used for brewing potions that contained rather explosive ingredients.

Ron wiggled his jaw from side to side to see if the twinge that Draco's rather accurate punch had caused was still there. No, it seemed to have healed nicely. Thank goodness Ron had bumped into Hermione in the corridor just now. With a few muttered incantations she had repaired most of the damage. That girl really could work wonders with a wand. He was sure that if he had turned up to Snape's dungeon with a bruised jaw he would have made him put up with the pain for the entire evening. Even worse, when he found out that it was Draco who had done the damage, he would probably have awarded Slytherin fifty points and made Malfoy head boy or something.

Fifteen minutes passed without a sound from either of the two occupants of the classroom. Snape left his desk to search for some extra root of Asphodel, and with the Professor momentarily out of sight, Ron sneaked a stick of Droobles Best Blowing Gum into his mouth. He chewed it for all of two seconds before the Professor's voice piped icily from the adjoining store-cupboard. "Bin it, Weasley." Ron frowned and raised himself to his feet.

The only rubbish bin in the room was the one that rested on Snape's desk. The Gryffindor made his way towards the front, placing each foot in front of the other carefully, not walking too fast or too slow, trying not to give Snape any reason to find fault with him. Ron dreaded to think what might follow if any words were exchanged.

Having spat his gum into the bin on the desk, Ron turned and his gaze dropped to the floor.

He blinked.

The rubbish bin that customarily stood on TOP of the desk was resting against one of the table legs. Ron felt his insides twist. If that was the bin, then what -

"GAAAAAAHHHH!"

With a 'CRACK!' a spurt of shimmering orange liquid shot nearly four feet into the air from the now hissing, spitting Barley-Byce cauldron. Ron ducked for cover under the nearest bench and instinctively rolled into a protective ball, for all the world looking like some bizarre species of giant, red-haired hedgehog. The deafening POPS and BANGS and ferocious spluttering that ensued mere feet away from him were enough to reduce the terrified boy to a quivering heap.

The contents of the cauldron leapt into the air at all angles, shooting several metres before changing colour and showering the classroom with droplets. The cauldron was now dangerously close to bursting point -

With a resounding CRASH! the Barley-Byce container tipped over.

A jet of yellow light projected from the bubbling origin of this worsening scene and struck just inches away from Ron. The terrified Gryffindor watched in silent horror as Catherine-Wheels of shimmering liquid whizzed and spluttered in all directions before coming into contact with the walls of the dungeon. A single sniff of the pungent concoction was enough to make the Gryffindor wretch loudly.

After a very long few minutes, during which Ron repented his past sins, should he die within this classroom, he felt brave enough to peek, very carefully, out of the corner of his eye to survey the damage.

The dungeon was completely orange.

It would quite easily have passed as a venue for an extremely enthusiastically decorated Halloween Party. The formerly dreary walls that had never seen even a coat of Magnolia in their life were now glittering in a sunset-coloured haze. This explosion had certainly brightened the room up no end. In fact, the dungeons had never looked better. Ron gulped. Snape would be furious.

The Gryffindor took a tentative step away from the bench under which he had been hiding, only to discover something that made his heart sink to his shoes. He gulped again. Whilst the orange-bathed cheeriness of the walls might be almost forgivable, the epicentre of the explosion, Snape's desk, was completely written off. Ron's throat went dry. All of the Professor's carefully hand-written notes were now enveloped in the thick, custard-like gooey mess that was steadily oozing out of the cauldron and onto the charred remains of the desk. Everything was ruined.

"YOU ABSOLUTE MORON!"

Ron turned to the doorway of the store-cupboard, the source of the thunderous outburst. An irate monster that vaguely resembled Professor Snape strode forcefully towards the bench behind which a terrified Ron had just darted. For the second time that day, Ron found himself being grasped by his collar.

"SEVEN MONTHS!" Snape snarled into the face of the Gryffindor who was now dangling from his grasp.

Ron blinked stupidly.

"THAT'S HOW LONG IT TOOK ME TO PREPARE THIS! LOOK AT IT NOW! RUINED!" The furious Professor gestured wildly to the chewing-gum-induced disaster that was formerly known as his desk.

Ron was now really beginning to fear for his life.

Snape clenched his teeth together in rage and dropped Ron to the floor. A strangled sort of voice escaped him. "I have NEVER seen such IDIOCY in my entire lifetime…."

That's not fair, Ron thought, massaging his neck.

Snape went on. "I have seen Blast-Ended Skrewts with more intelligence than you -"

Ron's insides bubbled. That comment was uncalled for. This mess wasn't his fault. It was Snape who had stupidly put a bin-shaped cauldron, full of custard or whatever it was, in the exact position where the bin was usually kept.

But Snape was on a roll. "I have seen TROLLS with a greater degree of -"

Ron was now clenching his fists so tightly by his sides that his knuckles looked ready to burst.

"What do you have to say for yourself? Give me ONE good reason not to hex your pitiful brains out of your ears -"

"…"

The words were out of Ron's mouth before he realised. His eyes widened, clearly horrified at what he had just said.

Snape froze. "WHAT?"

"I think purple would really suit you. No - I mean -" Ron looked around wildly. "Are you part veela? Because you have the most enchanting -"

"Stop your impertinence at once, you insufferable imbecile!"

"Your eyes are incredibly - "

"ENOUGH!"

"No – what I meant was -" Ron pleaded desperately " - I would imagine you have very strong arms." Ron felt as though he might be sick.

Snape rested his knuckles on the desk and leaned closer, a thunderous glare on his face. "I BEG YOUR PARDON?"

"N – nothing -" Ron stammered, trying to fight back the words. "It's just that - I've always wondered what it would be like to run my fingers though your hair - "

------------------------------

Waking up the next day in the hospital wing, Ron was sure of one thing.

When he finally got his hands on Fred and George, he was actually going to KILL them.

----------------

Thank you so much for reading! I do hope you liked it. OK, OK, I know Snape wouldn't actually go so far as to hex Ron ) but I thought it would be interesting to end the story like this. Sorry Snape, I still love you! There's a wee explanation of the intended effect of the Retexo Oppedo potion in my story Pillow Fight! When Snape asked Ron to explain himself, I left Ron's words blank because I couldn't think what to put…. Any ideas? Heheheeee thanks again for reading this, I would love to hear what you think! xxxxxxxxx