Just a little blurb that's been floating in my mind for a while. I don't own Harry Potter – that honor belongs to J.K.Rowling. I'm just a poor wannabe writer who only get's lil streams of genius – not the whole lake full like Ms. Rowling...

btw – it's pre HBP

Why Muggles Use the Post
By Caliko

Harry Potter stumbled down the stairs at number 4, Privit Drive. It was early – way too early for any sane teenager to be awake in the summer. However, he was hungry and he wanted to annoy his relatives.

The Dursley's would like nothing better than to deny him food and work him like a house elf, but thanks to the threats made a few weeks back, they wouldn't dare. All they could do is stare, impotently, as Harry would make himself a nice, large breakfast, and eat it in front of them.

For effect, he even renewed his subscription to The Prophet. Nothing got on Uncle Vernon's nerves more than having to watch wizarding pictures move on the front page. Even better, he couldn't pull his disgusted, yet morbidly facinated gaze away from them.

For this reason, Harry sleepily smirked as he got the frying pan out from underneath the stove.

He had just cracked his egg into the pan when a dignified 'hoot' came from the window.

Looking up, he laughed. His newspaper was here. He put the required payment into the owls money bag, and took his paper – clearly expecting the owl to leave right away. Unfortunatly, the owl seemed to go crazy at that point.

Seeing the eggs in the pan, she let out a screech and dive-bombed to poor boy wonder. Harry threw his arms up over his face and ducked, but she stayed steady. His arms were burning from the scratches that she inflicted, and he simply didn't know what to do!

"Aunt Petunia! Get me the broom!" He screeched, to no avail. His family finally found something to enjoy from the wizarding world. They sat at the table sniggering at him!

Finally, he heard the most beautiful sound in the world! Hedwig must have heard the commotion, and come to investigate. With an angry 'Hoot, HOOT, HOOT!', she drove the journalistic menace away, then came to rest on the floor next to Harry.

"Thank you, Hedwig! I wonder what got into that owl?" He sat up, then stroked her feathers in thanks.

"Hoot." She replied, looking pointedly at the burning eggs on the stove. "Hoot."

"Aahhh.. yeah, I could see how that would look bad." He stood up, and she flew to the back of his empty chair.

Harry turned back to the stove to cleanup. He took three steps forward, when a small ball of feathers dove crazily through the window. Still shaken up from his 'When owls attack!' episode, he didn't notice until it was too late.

Bam! Poor Harry dropped to the floor once more, as Pig, Rons Owl, dropped a letter and flew away. He groaned, looking up to his trusty feathered friend, hoping for support. Instead, He swore that she, too, was laughing at him.

"It's just not my day." He groaned, shaking his head.

"See, Freak! That's why NORMAL people use the post!" Dudley snorted, before he finished his orange juice and stomped off for the day.