Author: Chikin Wang
Found on FanFiction.net.
http://www.fanfiction.net/s/2848909/1/The_Leprechauns_Attack_at_DawnItalic = a note from the author, italicized by me.
It came to me a fortnight ago when I thought, ‘Why is it that the majority of holiday fics center around Christmas?’ And so the pondering led to many sleepless nights and frantic scrambles to juggle homework, work, lessons, and fic writing in order to get this up in time…
This fic doesn’t really fall into the HP timeline, so...try not to date it.
Another thing: I know in the UK people don’t do the immature pinching thing that the Americans do. But it had to be incorporated, so if you’re a…er…purist of such holiday traditions avoid scrolling down any further.
Disclaimer: I sit around and think up ways to make my holiday fics original. I highly doubt JKR does that…
The Leprechauns Attack at Dawn
A St. Patrick’s Day One-shotHarry hated St. Patrick’s Day. No, he didn’t hate it; he merely abhorred the holiday with great discontent. Growing up with Dudley made sure of it. Never mind that all his green clothes seemed to disappear the night before the green holiday—or, rather, the fact that Harry had a built in mechanism for such a day (after all, his eyes were green). But try explaining something as intricate as this to his ogre of a cousin.
School days were the worst. Those consisted of loud jeers and skin cracking pinches from Dudley’s ban of oafs. Green, yellow, and purple splotches sprinkled up and down his scrawny arms for days afterwards. Nobody ever intervened, not even the teachers (of whom Harry thought were secretly terrified of the giant walking bowling ball quintet) and year after year, he suffered from such uncompassionate acts.
When he grew older, St. Patrick’s Day did not get better. Even though Dudley was no longer around to torment Harry (since the latter of the two started school at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry), Harry still felt his stomach give a hard twist when people threatened on another with harmless hexes for not donning green clothes. Not to mention the fact that green was the color of Slytherin house and how Harry greatly detested the majority of Slytherins...yes, it was not a wonder why Harry hated St. Patrick’s Day.
Why, then was he laying on his stomach at seven in the morning on such a day? It was just another day, but rarely did the famous boy-who-lived crack his eyes open before he heard the bustling sounds of his roommates. He tossed and turned restlessly, the usually silent springs of his bed protesting loudly; he constantly glanced at the clock in the corner of the room. The minutes ticked by at an excruciatingly slow pace. He glanced at the foot of his bed where he had laid out a red shirt and a pair of jeans for the day.
He was quite grateful it was a Hogsmeade Saturday.
The bed next to him grumbled and stirred before the heavy scarlet curtains with gold fringes parted and a gangly red haired boy, rubbing his bleary eyes with a large hand, pushed off the mattress.
"Morning Ron."
"Since when did your bed squeak s-s-so m-u-u-ch?" Ron grumbled as he yawned widely.
"Oh…sorry," Harry smiled apologetically as he untangled himself from the knotted sheets (caused by his endless tosses and turns).
The two changed out of their pajamas as the other three beds’ occupants also slowly woke from their slumber.
"It’s St. Patrick’s Day!" Seamus Finnigan roared with great eagerness as he leapt out of his bed.
"Oh…right," Ron shot a worried look at Harry. The raven haired boy ignored the look and turned topull his cloak out of his wardrobe.
A dark green light flashed and Harry whirled around. There stood Seamus, his wand withdrawn and pointed at himself, with an enthusiastic tint of green spreading across his face. Harry first released a sigh of relief (for he thought a Death Eater had stumbled into the room and performed the killing curse on the group) but then prepared to grab a rubbish bin and his wand (to perform the Vanishing Charm) in case Mr. Finnigan started to vomit. The sickly green color spread to Seamus’ fingers and toes and Harry raised his wand, prepared for the worst. Then the slight bit of green darkened and Seamus beamed (his teeth unnaturally white against the new skin tone). Without saying a word, Harry turned away and started down the spiral staircase.
Except for the clusters of enlarged shamrocks sitting on the tables, the common room looked relatively normal. Harry sank into his favorite squishy armchair by the extinguished fire and watched his fellow Gryffindors file by. Green clothes, shamrock jewelry, clover-clad hair, and other festive articles passed him. More than once was he threatened with a harmless pinching hex, but Harry, who was not in the mood, simply evaded the attacks with a simple block of his wand.
"Morning Harry," Ginny Weasley sang as she burst from the spiral staircase that led to the girls’ dormitory.
He studied the red haired girl’s dancing, dangling leprechaun earrings and clover hair tie. Hermione Granger, who was behind the younger girl, had no detectable green article, just simply a sweater, jeans, and a black cloak draped casually across her arm. Compared to Seamus Finnigan, the group appeared quite somber indeed. Harry greeted them graciously, trying to channel his gratitude through the simple words.
Right then, Ron bounded down the spiral stairs, pulling a dusty old hat onto his flaming red hair. He paused, feet away from the other three, and whipped out his wand.
"Hermione’s not wearing green!" he shouted triumphantly as he waved his wand sharply.
A spark of gold shot out and hit Hermione’s exposed wrist. "Ouch! Ron!" she glowered, rubbing the irritated skin.
She then held her cloak out, shaking it in Ron’s face. The two young men leaned in to find a green clasp in place of the usual silver fastenings.
"Yes, but are you wearing it?" Ron pointed out.
Hermione chose not to answer but simply glare at him.
"Where’d you get that anyway?" Harry quickly changed the subject, motioning at Ron’s hat.
"It’s from the Quidditch World Cup!" Ron took it off to shake the dust off and adjust the shriveled shamrocks. "I found it—ouch!"
Hermione had shot out her wand and hexed Ron with the pinching charm.
"What was that for?" he grumbled as he rubbed his ear.
"You weren’t wearing your hat, now were you?" she retorted with a sly smile.
Ron smashed his hat on his head and left the common room. Hermione quickly followed and Harry and Ginny brought up the rear. The two exchanged knowing looks as the couple before them spoke coldly to one another. Harry shook his head. Those two…
"Where are those from?" he asked, motioning at Ginny’s earrings (which had started to do a somewhat demented jig).
"Luna," Ginny answered, "she thought it’d be nice for today."
Harry had to bite down a few remarks.
"You should see what else she wanted to give me," she added, as though reading his mind.
Right on schedule, the quartet entered the cavernous entrance hall and was greeted by a giant shamrock on top of a dirty blonde, wide-eyed Ravenclaw’s head.
"Happy St. Patrick’s Day, Harry," Luna hailed from beneath her giant clover.
"Hey," he replied as Ron and Hermione studied the headgear in disbelief.
"St. Patrick drove snakes out of Ireland with the help of his shamrocks and the green Seamrog Consanta," she motioned at a curious green and black creature barely visible in the center of the clover. "If we ever go to Tipperary, we could round up a band of them and run You-Know-Who out of the country."
Harry laughed appreciatively as he noted the girl’s matching pair of leprechaun earrings. These thoughts were clouded with his blurred future as he remembered his fate. However, knowing that someone besides the Weasley twins could speak lightly about such a thing, truly made his day. Ron and Hermione shook out of their temporary stupor and greeted the unusual (but nevertheless nice) girl. The group of five entered the Great Hall.
"Look, Gin, it’s your earrings!" Ron motioned at the leprechauns skipping around the room. Every inch of it was covered in clovers and green streamers. The usual platters replaced with small golden pots filled to the brim to the excellent food concocted by the school’s tireless house-elves.
"Hey! Hey Potter!"
Harry turned to find Draco Malfoy, a pinch faced blonde Slytherin, decked out in expensive green velvet, sneering over his clover-shaped toast.
"Where’s your Slytherin love?" he shouted.
Harry chose to ignore the other boy, and took a seat at the Gryffindor table. As he started on a plate of clover-shaped toast (with slivers of bacon posing as the stems) and sausages (he had avoided the green eggs since the green-factor made it seem sickening rather than delectable), a flurry of feathers shot through the windows. Owls of all kinds swooped in to deliver wrinkled packages and crinkled letters. Harry paid no mind to the commotion since he usually did not receive anything.
A large tawny owl swooped down and landed next to Harry’s plate. A messily wrapped package was tied just above the bird’s knobby talons. As Ron helped Harry untie the package, the owl disposed a parchment envelope on top of Harry’s toast. It then helped itself to a beakful of pumpkin juice and bits of bacon in a golden pot.
"It’s from Fred and George," Harry read the outside of the envelope in disbelief.
"Oh, sure, send a package to Harry, but not your own brother," Ron muttered darkly. Harry, ignoring the other boy, slit the Weasley Wizard Wheezes seal open with a knife and a short letter fell out.
"‘May your eyes be as green as pickled toads and your hair match the darkness of a blackboard’," he read aloud, angling the bit of parchment in time to find Ginny spit out a mouthful of juice and turn a becoming shade of pink.
He passed the note to Hermione, staring at the package with a furrowed brow. As though it realized it was being watched, the parcel shook and rocked before exploding. The bits of rough brown paper flew up and dispersed. On the table lay a black scarf with a green toad pattern. Harry studied it closely, prepared for anything (after all, it was from the twins) when it came to life and simply wound itself around Harry’s neck.
"Merlin’s beard!" Ron yelped, hopping up from the bench.
Harry looked up at him, "What?" Somehow, Ron had gotten bigger. So had the table. And the bench. The tawny owl stared down at him with curiosity.
That was when he realized what had happened. He let out a yelp of panic as his friends looked at him in horror.
Ron turned to Ginny, "I’m sorry, I was wrong. Harry looks like your earrings."
Hermione had scooped Harry up and quickly left the Great Hall as people continued their morning meal. He had to hang on to the webbing between her thumb and forefinger to keep from falling out of the palm of her hand.
"Now I’m glad Fred and George didn’t send me anything," he heard Ron comment as the four of them flew up several flights of stairs.
"Ron," Ginny sighed in an exasperated manner.
The group clambered through the portrait hole and back into the now deserted common room. Hermione gently disposed Harry onto a cushion. He caught his breath from the unsettling journey, willing his stomach to keep what little breakfast he had had down.
"Should we take him to the Hospital Wing?" Ginny suggested hesitantly.
"No," Ron answered as he glanced at a sheet of parchment "the note says the charm will wear off after three to seven hours."
Hermione grabbed the note and feverishly read the contents.
"Since when did the note say that?" Harry asked in a squeaky, shrill voice as he paced across the squishy pillow.
"Oh, it happened when the scarf tied itself around your neck," Ron answered, gazing at his friend apologetically.
"Figures," Harry muttered under his breath. His friends continued to stare down at him, worried about his physical being. "Hey, look guys, it’s a Hogsmeade weekend and you shouldn’t stay behind because I…I’ve become a leprechaun." His lips twitched as the words left his mouth. A sentence he definitely thought he would never utter.
"No, we’ll stay," Ginny answered quickly and she took a seat on the loveseat. Harry bounced and toppled over the embroidered pillow and grabbed the gold tassels in order to prevent himself from falling into the dark abyss between the cushions. Ginny quickly picked him up by the collar of his green suit jacket, apologizing profusely.
"Or…maybe we could…take Harry with us?" Ron suggested hesitantly.
The girls glared at him.
"No, think about it," Ron spoke quickly. "We can’t do anything here. Harry’s too small to do homework or play chess or Gobstones or anything. And the point of staying behind is to make him feel better. So…why don’t we just take him?"
"Okay, Merlin," Ginny cross her arms, "what do you say we do?"
Ron pointed at the pocket on his shirt. "I’ll carry him around."
"Like you did with Scabbers?" said Hermione.
"Harry?"
"Well…er…" he shrugged. "I dunno. I guess okay since you want to go to Hogsmeade so badly."
Ginny begrudgingly handed Harry to her brother ("I think this leprechaun thing has fried your brains," she muttered to him). Ron slowly lowered Harry into the pocket. When he had settled himself, the crown of his head barely appeared over the lip of the pocket. He hopped up and down, the view sinking in and out of sight with every jump. The shirt jostled and shook.
"What’s going on?" Harry shouted.
"Nothing," replied Ron. The shirt rose and rumbled and Harry fell over, clawing at the fabric for support.
"So, I guess the pocket idea was a dud," stated Ron.
The pocket darkened as something pinched the edge of Harry’s jacket.
"Bad idea! Bad idea!" he shouted.
"Oh, honestly, Ron," said Hermione voice. Light replaced darkness and a wand tip appeared. Harry felt himself shoot up and out of the pocket, hovering in midair, his legs kicking about.
"Now you do look like Ginny’s earrings," Ron said in hopes of lightening the atmosphere.
"Oh, quit with the earring jokes," said Hermione.
"That’s it!" Ginny clapped her hands together in triumph the others turned to regard her. "Harry can pose as one of my earrings!"
A pause.
"Did you have any of that green egg?" Harry asked. "Because I think the side effects of eating colored foods is killing your judgement."
"Can we try, please?" Ginny pled, already taking one of the leprechauns out.
Harry gave in (rather reluctantly) and soon found the collar of his green suit jacket attached to the end of a hook.
"Why do I get the feeling that something’s going to go wrong?" he muttered under his breath.
"Okay Ginny," Hermione nodded.
Up went the hook and so did the collar of his jacket. The higher he was lifted, the higher the collar rose until, finally, it pulled the jacket up to Harry’s nose. He wriggled and swiped at his clothes, attempting to straighten them. However, It was all in vain. Next thing he knew, the fabric gave away and Harry tumbled downward.
"Aaaaahh!" he shouted frantically, his arms flapping back and forth, his legs kicking in all directions as he tried to propel himself upwards from the cold, stone floor.
"Windgardium Leviosa!"
"Aargh!"
Harry bounced off a freckly forearm and soared overhead, glancing back in time to find Ron floating in midair. He then redirected his attention and found that the cushioned loveseat was flying towards him. He balled his body up, preparing for a somewhat rough landing. Then someone shouted, "Accio!"
Ginny stood there with her wand at the ready. An invisible force pulled his body in the direction he had just flown in. His stomach turned and lurched as he shot in the direction of the girl’s open palms. His body shot into the cupped hands, his feet digging into her palms as he fought for a dignified landing.
"What…?" he gasped to regain the breath he had left behind on the hook.
Ginny turned so that the crumpled figure in her hands was facing Ron and Hermione. Apparently, Hermione had used the levitating charm at the exact moment Ron tried to catch Harry. The action resulted in a somewhat catastrophic sequence of events. Having been hit by the spell, Ron shot upwards, causing Harry to ricochet off his forearm and into the cushions of doom (only to be rescued by Ginny’s quick wandwork).
"Never…again," gulped Harry as Hermione set the hovering Ron straight.
Ron, whose clover hat had fallen off during the mishap, swept the hat off the ground, dusted off the clovers with great care, before smashing it back on his head.
"You know, I think you should just go and leave me here," Harry motioned at the portrait door as he shakily got to his feet.
"No," Hermione studied Ron closely. "You can…" she spoke slowly as though developing the idea as she spoke, "you can…sit on Ron’s hat."
The famous boy-who-lived had gone through many difficult things. Yes, lulling three headed dogs to sleep, following spiders, fighting basilisks, participating in the popular sport call Quidditch, entering brutal contests, fighting Death Eaters (and Voldemort)…but never before had he faced such a challenge. It was one thing to fight people who were opposed to him and would not have cared about him as long as he died. This, however was different. His friends pointedly refused to leave him be and let him sulk under his cloud of ‘I hate St. Patrick’s Day’. It was truly irking him.
"What the hell is the matter with you?" he shouted. "Can’t you see I just want to be alone?"
"We just wanted you to come to Hogsmeade with us," Hermione said defensively.
"And find out how much fun days like today really are," Ginny added.
"Yes, but how would you feel if you had to grow up with your stupid fat cousin pinching the hell out of you and having to put up with idiots like Malfoy and then have the twins send you a scarf that turns you into a helpless little leprechaun and then have the three of you put me through all these…these…!"
"Death defying experiences!" Ron shouted triumphantly. "You’re Martin Miggs, the Mad Muggle!"
The other three sighed heavily; the sister did so out of impatience and the friends, to hide their amusement.
"C’mon, Ron," Hermione motioned for the red haired boy to come toward her, "give me the hat."
Ron mockingly clutched his hat, speaking in an overly exaggerated tone of horror, "So you can hex me again? Never! HEY!"
Ginny had swiped the hat off with a triumphant hop and tossed it at the bushy haired girl. Hermione quickly busied herself with the crinkled clovers, adjusting them to a formation. With a flick of her wand and whisper of an incantation, tiny green cushions appeared in the center of the patch of dried clovers.
"You can be aSeamrog Consanta," Hermione said, "like the one Luna has."
"Except alive and not from Tipperary," added Ron.
"And," Hermione motioned at a thick string of thread. "I’ve erected a simple mechanism that will prevent you from falling out. What do you think?"
"I think…" Harry studied the hat with amusement. "I think you three are absolutely mad."
A pause.
"But I’ll go along with it since it’s St. Patrick’s Day and…well, what’s a holiday without your friends?" He clambered onto the seat; the thick bit of thread automatically wound itself around the hat and then shot across Harry’s chest at an angle before knotting itself. Ron gave a loud whoop of glee as he, once again, pulled the hat on his head and bounced out the portrait door. The uneven gait was rather unsettling, but Harry soon got used to it as his friends marched down the front steps and off to the nearby village.
The morning was spent in the cold sunshine of the magical village. Shoppers quickly bustled by, mumbling about prices and destinations. Fellow Hogwarts students shot up and down the lanes, grateful for a day away from school. Hours later, after flittering from Zonko’s to the Shrieking Shack to Honeydukes, the quartet met up with friends to head for the pub, the Three Broomsticks.
Neville Longbottom, a rather forgetful young man in Harry’s year, looked at them with curiosity. "Where’s Harry?"
"He’s a Seamrog Consanta for today," Ginny explained smilingly, pointing at Ron’s hat as the group entered the cheery pub, filled with heavy drinkers who were celebrating the festive day.
"A what?"
Harry waved from his seat and pointed at Luna and her clover head. Drinks were ordered and laughs were exchanged (Harry’s mead was delivered via a very long straw that Madam Rosmerta provided).
"Harry, did the shamrocks shrink?" Ginny suddenly asked.
"I…don’t think so…"
Ron checked his watch and immediately whipped his hat off and set it on the table. "Sorry, mate, but I’m not risking my neck for you."
"But you have about thirty other times, though."
"Shut up, Gin."
A bright yellow light flashed. The thread split and everything grew smaller. Cups of mead tipped over and trickled across the table. Harry’s attire morphed from stiff green to a red shirt, jeans, and a dark toad print scarf. He happily hopped off the table and waved the scarf triumphantly. Then…
"My hat!"
He winced as he turned back to find the hat now flattened on the table. All that was left of the clovers was green dust.
"Sorry about that…"
Hermione waved her wand and the hat repaired itself. The shamrocks formed again, this time as healthy, moist ones rather than the dried out ones. Ron thanked her before jamming his hat on his head and doing a very strange jig.
"Now you look like Ginny’s earrings!" Harry and Hermione chanted triumphantly.
Harry laughed heartily and took a seat. "You know, St. Patrick’s Day’s not that bad after all."
Deep green Seamus, who was sitting in the next booth with Dean Thomas and several other Hogwarts students, gave a whoop of jubilation, "It worked!"
The group turned to him, confused.
Seamus whipped around and, before Harry knew what was happening, engulfed Harry in dark green light. His skin was tinted in green, darkening as the seconds went by, until he was the same shade as Ron’s hat. He studied himself in the window of the pub as the raucous drinkers applauded and guffawed.
"I spoke too soon," said Harry with a wide smile.
So, basically, Seamus was the one who convinced the twins to send the scarf to Harry (mainly inspired by the "Seamus told me that Dean heard from Pavarti that Hagrid’s looking for you...")
Thanks to TheSongRemainsTheSame for getting me to finish this fic. Now YOU go read HER St. Patrick’s Day fic (Top O' the Morn' to Ya) and tell her how wonderful it is (though I haven’t gotten around to reading it yet)
Personally, I don’t think the characterizations are right, which really bothers me since I strive to keep them as in character as possible. Any criticism is welcomed here.
About my other fic, His Metamorphmagus, I’m planning on updating it sometime at the beginning of April. If I don’t, you guys all have the right to track me down and hit me over the head with a rusty old pan.
Hope everyone’s ST-mad-raging-leprechauns-PATRICK'S-green-underwear-was-lost-DAY!
Please review!
Chikin Wang 
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