Test Subjects

Ah, the first week of school. A time usually filled with stocking up on Butterbeer, messing with first years, and the teachers slamming us with the first homework of the year. This year however, we didn’t do any of that. Well, the last one happened, but we only did the homework because this is N.E.W.T. year.

This year, it started with the testing of various prank sweets. Mainly, the Skiving Snackboxes.

When Fred and George told me about these amazing pills, I was mesmerized. A way to get out of class without getting in trouble…..it was brilliant.

They had 4 different varieties; Fever Fudge, Nosebleed Nougat, Puking Pasties, and Fainting Fancies. They were ingenious; simply eat the purple end of say, a Puking Pasty, and you vomited spectacularly. And in theory, when you ate the orange end, you stopped puking.

THEORETICALLY.

That’s where I came in.

The first weekend, we were the only ones in our dorm. Fred and George were having a bit of trouble with getting the effects to stop. We were all testing on ourselves before we would sell to the general public.

“Alright, ready Lee?” asked Fred, about to swallow the purple end of a Puking Pasty.

“Just get it in the bucket this time,” I said grumpily, nudging the large bucket closer to him with my foot. Last time we tried this, Fred vomited all over Mike’s bed and it was very smelly in the dorm for the whole night.

“I will,” he said, and gulped down the pill. Almost immediately, Fred vomited a spectacularly nasty rainbow of sick into the bucket.

“Who’s idea was it to make the vomit rainbow?” I asked. George’s mouth was in a perfect “O.”

“Must have been the Billywig sting we put in them……have to take that out…” George muttered as he handed his twin the orange end. “Take…out…Billywig…” he scribbled on the parchment he was holding. Fred choked down the orange end and his vomiting progressively stopped.

Once he ate a bit of Droobles, he said, “Ok, so those finally work. Lee, you’re up for Nougat.” I vanished the sick with a wave of my wand and took the pill from George.

“You got rid of the spurting problem, right?” I asked before swallowing it.

“Yeah, pretty sure,” replied George. I sighed and ate the pill.

Blood squirted out of both my nostrils at with alarming power. It sprayed all down my robes and George’s sheets.

“Gog gam id! Goo gade ig worse! Mach ich gop!!!” I yelled frantically, covering my nose with both my hands. I tilted my head back so Fred could stuff the orange end down my throat. When I took my hands away, I was still bleeding, but it had slowed a little. Fred handed me a cloth as George took some more notes.

“Tentacula…seeds…made…worse……need…stronger…antidote.”

“Damn right, bloody hell!” I cursed, mopping up my face. Blood still trickled out of my nose. “Alright George, the Fancies then.”

George handed me his papers (which were flecked with blood and rainbow vomit) and ate the Fainting Fancy. He crumpled to the ground, knocking his head on the four-poster as he went. Fred knelt by him and shoved the orange end in his mouth, but George did not come to. “Need…better…antidote…” I scribbled under where George had titled “Fainting Fancies.”

“Do you want to try the Fudge?” asked Fred as he propped up George.

“Nope.”

“Fine,” he said, and ate the Fever Fudge. He turned a sickly colour and disgusting boils sprung up all over his face. “AHH!” he yelled. “THEY’RE EVERYWHERE!!”

I snickered. “What do you mean? They’re only on your face!”

“WHEN I SAY EVERYWHERE, I MEAN EVERYWHERE LEE!!” Fred screamed as one of the boils exploded, adding a blue-tinted pus to the paper.

“Well, eat the other end!” I retorted, and Fred did so. Only, the boils seemed to swell and looked about to pop. I ducked as several on Fred’s face popped. “Come on, we’ve got to see Pomfrey.”

We picked up George and began our decent to the fourth floor and the Hospital Wing. By the time we got there, we had dropped George several times, a couple more of Fred’s boils had exploded, and my nose started bleeding heavily again so that I felt faint. When we stumbled in and threw George down on the nearest bed, Madame Pomfrey gave a start. “And what happened to you three this time?” she partially snapped, bending over George.

“Well, you see, I had a horrible nosebleed. George can’t stand the sight of blood, so he passed out. And as he went down, his wand went off and the jinx hit Fred,” I explained. She looked at me suspiciously, then turned to Fred.

“Is that really what happened?”

“Swear on my mum’s life,” Fred said, raising his right hand.

I unclenched the paper from my hand once Madame Pomfrey’s back was turned and scribbled, “Fix…Fudge…bloody…mess…”