When Good Potatoes Go Bad
by JustMe

Disclaimer: It all belongs to J.K. Rowling, except for the potato, who is mine and mine alone. Oh yes, and fluffy. This was written for METMA Mandy in response to her challenge.

“So,” Fred Weasley said to his brother, “What shall we get mom for mothers day?”

“Mother’s Day?” George asked, pouring another cupful Vesi’s Best Explosion Oil into the bucketful of gross looking liquid standing on the table in front of him.

Fred rolled his eyes. “Yeah, George, that holiday that we’ll be killed for forgetting.”

“Oh, that one.” George said, grinning. “Hang on a sec; do you have a handy object I can try this on?”

Fred looked around and grabbed the object nearest to him: a raw potato.

“Why,” George asked, staring, “Is there a raw potato in our bedroom?”

“Dunno,” Fred said, shrugging. “What is this concoction supposed to do, anyway?”

“I’m not exactly sure.”

“Ah. Of course. You’re not sure.”

“Well, it’s got to do something, hasn’t it? I mean, there are only about five cups of explosion oil in it.”

“Good point.” Fred moved to join his brother as George dipped the potato into the goop. He then lifted it out carefully, and set it onto the table. They stared at it expectantly. Nothing happened.

“Darn!”

“It should have done something!”

“Oh well,” George sighed as they turned to leave the room. “Now, about that mothers day gift…”

The room was silent. A potato lay on the table. There was no movement. Until…the potato opened one eye, and then, cautiously, the other. Seeing nobody there, two arms and two skinny little legs popped out of it’s brown skin, and it’s mouth opened wide in a malevolent grin to reveal two rows of tiny, needle sharp teeth.

The good potato had gone bad.

*


Meanwhile, back on the ranch:

Fred and George had decided on a mother’s day gift for Mrs. Weasley: A pretty white duck. They packed it into a red box (after punching air holes), and wrote out a card.

Dear Mum,
Happy Mothers Day.
- Gred and Forge

P.S. We didn’t forget. You always think the worst of us.


Then they carried it downstairs and set it on the kitchen table. They were just going to call their mother when…they heard a pitter patter coming down the hall. A potato entered the room at top speed, and in one fluid motion it ran to the table and jumped on. Fred and George stared.

“You…you’re that potato we tried our potion on!”

“The very same,” the potato snarled menacingly, “You, my creators, abandoned me, and now I shall destroy you!”

“This is like Frankenstein gone weird!” George commented under his voice.

“Agreed,” Fred muttered back.

“Now,” the potato continued, “I shall devour you! You will give me the energy I need to become the sole dictator of the world! MUAHAHAHAHAHA! MUAHAHAHAHAHA!”

Just then, Mrs. Weasley entered the kitchen, followed closely by Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny.

“What the ****?” Ron shouted, seeing a potato confronting his brothers.

“Don’t swear Ron!”

“Is that what you say when my brothers are about to be devoured by a potato?”

“Wha…?”

“Get with it Hermione!” Harry yelled “There’s a killer potato in this kitchen with us!”

“A killer potato?” Mr. Weasley said, entering the room. “Where?”

“Ten points to Gryffindor, for being the first to notice it.” Percy said, also walking in.

“It can’t be worse than a dragon,” Charlie shouted from the living room.

“If you manage to kill it, can I have it’s teeth?” came Bill’s voice from upstairs.

“Aaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” Mrs. Weasley screamed. Suddenly, there was a crash of thunder and a bolt of lightning. The sky went dark, and a lone figure appeared in the doorway.

“I am Lord Voldemort!” said the figure, “And I am here to destroy you all!” All said, his words had had the desired affect; he was pleased to not that he had gotten the perfect pitch. But disaster struck when he started with his maniacal laughter.

“MAUHAHAHa…EEK!” His laughter came out in a high pitched squeal, leading everyone to burst into laughter.

“No! I shall kill you all! No-one shall ever know about this!”

“Not so fast, Riddle!” Harry shouted, darting forward. He grabbed the potato, forced it’s mouth open, and thrust it at Voldemort’s arm.

“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! The…potato…fatal…death…” Voldemort gasped out.

“I ca ge off, I ca ge off!” the potato screamed through a mouthful of flesh. Before everyone’s very eyes a gaping red hole opened up in the floor. Next to it was a down arrow, and a sign on a post that read

Hell:
Straight Down
One Way

Voldemort and the potato plummeted straight downwards. The hole closed up, leaving no sign that it had ever been there.

“Facilis descensus Averni,” Hermione commented.

“What?” Ron asked.

“Easy is the descent into hell,” Harry said, staring at the place in the floor where the hole had been.

“Let’s hear it for potato power,” Ginny said, still pale from shock.

“Mum,” Ron said, “You know what we were going to have for dinner tonight?”

“Yes. What about it.”

“Let’s skip the mashed potatos.”

And everyone agreed.

*


Meanwhile, down that one-way road we heard about…

“And I will be your personal tour guide through Hell, Inc.!” The white cat said, staring at them with red eyes.

“Excuse me,” Voldemort said, “But aren’t black cats supposed to be evil? You’re white.”

The cat bristled, and did not deign to answer. “As I was saying, I will be with you for your eternal stay, except for when I’m up on the surface spray painted black and scaring the hell out of muggles, or when I’m with-”

“Fluffy!” A voice rang out, “Where are you? Don’t you want your perfectly baked tuna casserole? You know Mama Martha wouldn’t have it any other way. Fluffy!”

“-Martha. Martha Stewart. I pose as her house cat.”

“I always wanted to meet Martha Stewart!” The potato exclaimed.

“Oh, when she dies she’ll be with you here. She’s got a life sentence for entertaining one of the devils minions. Namely me. Gotta run! I’ll see you in a bit!”

And the evil white cat ran off, muttering about finding his contacts.

the end.

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