Weasley's Whizzers

Friday Fiction with Ronovan Writes

Ronovan Writes New Year's Eve Special

  • You’re at your Nation’s New Year’s Eve Ball with a mischievous friend or relative. The f/r lights a firework and walks away. The firework goes off at your feet. What happens next?

  • Word Count is 600 words or less. 

My 600 words

It was the night of the New Year’s Ball, and the festivities were in full swing.  Thousands of floating candles lit the Great Hall, creating wavering shadows on the ancient stone floors.  Witches and wizards, dressed in their best, were dancing, dining, or mingling in the Hall as musicians wandered among the attendees, playing traditional tunes. 

A group of wizards gathered in one corner of the vast room, facing not towards the room, as one might expect, but away from it, their backs hunched to shelter their actions from any prying eyes.  Ron and Harry were among them, as were the Weasley twins, Fred and George, and several of their friends.  The twins were up to their usual high jinks.  Even the threat to behave, “if just for the party,” from their Head of House would do nothing to dampen their spirits, or damper their plans.

“Ron!  Look out!” shouted Harry as Fred Weasley reached down to ignite one of  Filibuster’s trademarked Fabulous Wet-Start No-Heat firework.  At least that’s what the missile had originally been.  George and Fred had added their own alterations, including strapping several of them together.  This was no single firework, not the sort Harry had seen before, bouncing off walls and ceilings, or causing a salamander to spin in the air.  This thing was huge! 

Ron attempted to avoid the smoldering firework, which was now emitting a rainbow of stars and beginning to shiver and shake at his feet.  Ron, not known for his quick thinking, nor his quick footwork, tripped just as the firework lifted off.  Without thinking, he grabbed hold with his hands, pushed himself up into a sitting position, and dangled his legs off either side as it rose into the air. 

His first thought was, “Dr. Filibuster knows his business, this really is No-Heat.”  Coming fast on the tail of that thought came, “I’d better not die before get a chance to kill Fred and George for this.” 

Ron rose higher and higher into the room, as the super-firework grew louder and louder, whizzing and popping joining the star sparks.  The musicians paused, their instruments forgotten.  Dancers froze in their steps.  Diners stopped with forks lifted partway to their opened mouths to stare. 

Soon, Ron was circling the Hall as if on a broomstick, trailing stars, as colorful glitter rained down on the crowd.  Too frightened to utter a word, Ron clung to the firework, leaning first one way then the other as it swooped and ricocheted off walls and ceiling joists.  Once he was nearly unseated as they passed through the Hufflepuff House banner.  Candle flames wavered in the breeze as he flew within inches of them.    

Ron’s ride went on for some nineteen minutes (timed by ever punctilious Snape), although later Ron insisted he’d been aloft for an hour at least.  As the sparks became fewer, the whizzing quieter, the rocket slowed and spun lower and lower.  Finally, it came to a rest, silent and still on the floor of the Hall.  Ron, with shaking legs, was helped off by Harry.

George and Fred stood with mouths agape.  This is NOT what they had expected!  THIS WAS SO MUCH BETTER!  They looked at each other with grins, knowing that each was thinking the same thing.  They silently exited the Hall and ran to their hidden workroom and their stash of Filibuster’s Fabulous fireworks to begin alterations.  Think of how much they could charge for these!  A few and they’d be set for life! 







  ©2020 Lisa Smith Nelson. All Rights Reserved



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