Roast Chicken

A/N: Just so ya knowI don't own anything, I'd like to own a car or a motorbike but no. I was in a weird mood when I wrote this, so let the weirdness begin...!

Harry was just been picking up a succulent looking piece of chicken, when he felt a familiar pull at his naval. His feet unexpectedly left the stone floor of the Great Hall and he was racing through a blur of color and pictures. Before he had time to question what was going on, he landed in a forest clearing surrounded by Death Eaters, wands pointing at him.

Harry decided to keep quiet. His wand was in his trunk up in the boys' dormitory where he had left it after a particularly grueling Potions lesson, so he was defenseless against them.

The Death Eater closest to Harry stepped forward, pressing his wand to Harry's throat. "Hello, Potter. Enjoy your piece of chicken?"

The Death Eaters snickered.

Harry looked down at his hand and realized he was still gripping the chicken with much more force than was necessary. Suddenly a loud rumbling sound echoed around him. He looked down at his stomach and groaned. The Death Eaters looked around in panic.

'Brilliant time to start feeling hungry, Potter,' Harry thought.

His stomach growled louder.

'Maybe I could just eat the chicken…'

The Death Eaters were still spinning around trying to locate the source of the noise.

'Blimey, they're idiots…'

Harry's stomach gave one final complaint before Harry lifted the juicy looking chicken piece to his mouth and took a bite.

Harry woke with a start. He had a horrible taste in his mouth and he realized that wasn't the only thing that was in his mouth. He spat out his pillow, a clump of feathers sticking to his mouth.

"Tasty?" a voice asked from the doorway.

Harry turned around and found Aunt Petunia standing at his door. Harry sputtered to explain, feathers flying from his mouth.

"Get down to the kitchen and have breakfast... when you've finished your little snack." Aunt Petunia disappeared out the door as Harry was choking up the rest of the feathers.

He swiped at his tongue trying to get the texture out of his mouth. He rolled out of bed and made his way to the kitchen area. Stumbling down the stairs, he smelt something delicious in the air. Following the smell he found himself at the dining table with his mouth watering.

There, on the wooden table, was a roast chicken.

A/N: Review peoples