Hi, all you other Potter fans. I'm Niarbeldoon (Noodlebrain backwards). This is my first story on here, and I'll admit it's pretty random. Especially the blender part. Most of my thoughts are. I'm always imagining stuff; and since I'm currently on some sort of Harry Potter kick, this leaked out of my head one day as I sat at the computer. Most of my (unwritten) stuff is more on the "character development/psychoanalysis" side of things than the "plot" side, but I'll try and make this plot go somewhere for you guys. (Might be nice, considering that this is a STORY.) Go ahead and read it, but promise me you'll go out and do something after you're done on the computer. Play tennis or hug your mom or be kind to a bug. We need to have some kind of lives... well, here's the fic!
Vernon hurried, somewhat exasperated, to the door. Whoever was on the opposite side of it was knocking insistently; and at nine in the evening. He pulled the door open and found himself, unexpectedly, face to face with his nephew, whom he had not seen in about four years. Harry stood on the doorstep, black robes in contrast with the January snow. He had a few more scars on his face than Vernon had remembered, and his hair was flecked with premature streaks of grey at the temples.
"I need to use your phone," Harry said quickly.
"What the – why are you here?" Vernon Dursley demanded, holding the door open about six inches. "You don't look - normal! How dare you come here in that-" he sputtered, pointing at Harry's robes.
"I was in a hurry. Believe me," he said before his uncle could protest, "I wouldn't come here unless I really needed to. Look, I've got to use your phone. And, er... blender, too. And fireplace."
Vernon's face was slowly turning purple. "What - the - devil do you want with a blender? Now?? I'm not letting you in!" He started to close the door. Harry held it open.
"Uncle Vernon," he said, "You know, you can't really stop me from coming in. I only came to the door in order to seem more... normal."
Vernon's face was deep purple. He stared at his nephew with a mixture of fear and disgust. "Petunia and I," he said stiffly, "have visitors. You are not going to terrorize them. Go – somewhere – else!"
Harry closed his eyes for a moment, trying to control his temper and restrain himself from saying any number of nasty things back to his uncle. He had to think clearly. One of his major problems, as Hermione and Ron had told him countless times... control your anger.
"Uncle Vernon... this is kind of important. I don't have much time."
Vernon faltered, stuttering, and Harry pushed past him and swept into the house. Uncle Vernon, startled, watched another figure follow Harry Potter in – a young sandy-haired boy, also wearing black robes, probably eleven or twelve. Vernon had missed him in the evening shadows. The boy looked nervously at Vernon and ran through the door after Harry. Vernon, deeply unsettled, watched them turn to go into the kitchen; fortunately for him, they avoided being seen from the living room. He wondered how on earth he was going to cover this up to the Masons... his batty nephew, wearing weird clothes, barging into his house without warning in the middle of January. The Masons had not forgotten the pudding incident, although it had happened ten and a half years ago.
Harry pushed open the kitchen door. Number four, Privet Drive looked exactly the same as it always had, as long as he could remember. The kitchen was unrealistically neat, as though an alarm would be set off if anyone set a greasy hand on the counter.
"Professor?" asked the boy nervously as Harry flipped the light on. "What about the other muggles? What if they see us?" Harry's face was a little drawn. He hadn't been counting on the Dursleys having guests. It was frustrating, to say the least.
"Just be careful," Harry said to the boy. "But I have my invisibility cloak. And I know how to work a memory charm, if it comes to that." He looked at the boy's face. He was nervously standing in the middle of the kitchen, looking very out of place. "Don't worry about it, Ethan," Harry said kindly, trying to calm the shrimpy second-year down. "You're safe here, for now. And don't pay too much attention to the man with the walrus mustache; he can't do anything to you. Here... look for the blender, will you?" He paused. "You do know what a blender is, right?"
Ethan grinned a little and bent down to quietly rummage through the cupboards. Harry Potter turned away and removed a glass bottle from inside his robes. The liquid inside it looked appetizingly like... mud. He set two more phials on the counter next to it, one big and one tiny; both seemingly empty. The phone rang.
Petunia Dursley excused herself from the living room and walked hurriedly into the kitchen to answer the phone, wondering why Vernon was taking so long to answer the door. Who could possibly be at the door - or calling at this hour?
She rounded the doorway and nearly ran into Harry. It took her a moment to absorb what she was seeing. She let out a small squeak and clapped a hand to her mouth. Harry had picked up the phone. Stuffing his index finger into his other ear, he mumbled something and listened intently. Vernon appeared in the kitchen doorway. He had forgotten to close the door to the outside; a few snowflakes drifted into the hall. Vernon and Petunia stared at the young man in long black robes, standing in their kitchen as though he owned the place. Ethan, having found the blender, was standing next to his Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, the appliance clutched to his stomach and a wary expression on his face as he looked at Vernon Dursley.
"What is going on?" Petunia demanded in a whisper. She turned to her husband.
"Erm... go out and keep the Masons entertained... I'll deal with him," Vernon said, sounding as though he were about to choke. He shooed her out the door.
Harry breathed a quiet sigh of relief. "Good," he said. "Fifteen minutes? I can be out of here in fifteen minutes. Thanks, Lupin. Tell Tonks I owe her." He hung up the phone. Taking the blender from Ethan, he set it on the counter and plugged it in. "It's not standard, but it'll work," he said to Ethan. "I was never much good in potions..."
"Hold it," snarled Vernon. "I want answers. Just how important is this? You'd better not be giving any of those dementy-whatsits reason to come into my house!"
Harry ignored him and began to open the bottle of gloppy grey potion. Vernon grabbed his arm roughly; Harry spun around and stood stiffly, a muscle going in his cheek. The bottle, still closed, fell over onto the counter. The voices in the living room faltered.
"I don't have time to give you answers!" Harry hissed. "Lives could very well depend on this! You never cared for anything like – this – so don't pretend to start now!" Vernon hadn't let go of his arm; he pulled out his wand and pointed it at his uncle's neck. Vernon was shaking; whether with anger or fear, Harry couldn't tell. His nostrils flared; he turned back to the bottle on the counter. Pulling it open, he dumped the gloppy substance into the blender. It filled it about halfway. He pulled a small pouch out of his robes and emptied it into the blender. It unmistakably contained insects. He jammed the lid on the blender.
"I – want – to – know – what's – happening," Vernon said insistently. "I want to know whether or not I or my wife are in any sort of danger!" Harry hesitated for a moment, then turned the appliance on.
"Vernon, what is going on??" Petunia's baffled and slightly panicked voice rose shrilly over the noise. Mr. Dursley looked as though he was contemplating strangling himself with the phone cord. He didn't answer.
Harry stopped the blender and poured the mixture carefully back into the old bottle and the other empty one, somehow without spilling a drop. He sighed and set his jaw.
"I couldn't finish the potion before I left Hogwarts," he explained irritably to his uncle. "I needed the blender to add the lacewings." He opened the tiny bottle and removed a single, blond hair from it. "I didn't mean to come here. I was going to finish it – somewhere – somewhere safe for Ethan– but as Ethan can't Apparate, we had to fly."
"Fly?" Vernon asked. "You people fly??"
"On a thestral," Harry said hurriedly. He flicked the hair into one of the potion bottles; the liquid sizzled and turned green. "Never mind. It got shot down before we got... where we wanted to go. We ran here to use the Floo network. It was the only place I could -"
The phone rang, cutting him off. Harry grabbed it. His face paled as he listened. Ethan bit his lip.
"We've got to go," Harry said breathlessly, jamming the phone back on the cradle. "No time. They're on our trail. They know where we are!"
(There's chapter one! I have more! But I can't promise to post it immediately. Well... you promised... go do something exciting.)Amazing Grace; how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me! I once was lost but now I'm found; was blind but now I see!