I am very sorry for submitting you to this, and I apologize for my idiocy. I was working on a different one which is morbidly depressing, but I lack inspiration for that one. So I am writing this to make fun of the other one. Am I mocking my own work? Yes, but as you will soon see, I am quite mad.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and characters belonging to J.K. Rowling are hers alone.
"Excuse me, can you tell me where I can find the apples?"
I turned around to find myself looking at a short, plump woman in a flower-print green dress and knee-high winter boots. She was staring at me with watery eyes, as if I held the answers to the mysteries of the universe. I stifled a sigh and pointedly looked behind her at the fruit and vegetable section of the store visible clearly over her shoulder.
"Right over there, ma'am, underneath the sign," I told her as patiently as I could.
"Oh, thank you," and she tottered off in the complete opposite direction.
I shook my head and didn't bother to correct her. If she needed help again, she could go and ask somebody else.
I know what you're thinking.
You're thinking this: Why the hell is Harry Potter, savior of the wizarding world, working at a Muggle grocery store?
Well, I will tell you, because I have no one else to complain to about my unfortunate situation.
The answer is this: Draco Malfoy.
For some reason, the stupid, blond prat decided to pack up and leave his home without a word to anybody and move – to Canada. Why Canada? If he had to move, why couldn't he choose somewhere warm, like Florida or something? There could only be one possible explanation for this otherwise dismal misadventure into a world of snow, potholes and dangerous wildlife. Draco Malfoy had some evil plot or another, and he was moving to Canada to implement it on the firm logic that no one would be crazy enough to brave the unpredictable weather of Canada. Except, here I was, in the frigid north of western Canada, tailing him even now. Whatever Malfoy was up to, I was sure I could find out what it was and put a stop to it.
The only problem is that he seems to be doing absolutely nothing wrong. He hasn't wreaked any havoc or caused any chaos whatsoever, and I've been watching him carefully. No Muggle-baiting, no evil dark curse casting, no Death Eater associating – hell, he hasn't even gotten a minor traffic violation, and that's more than I can say for myself (damn police officer had a speed-trap up)!
So what has this villainous former-Death Eater been doing that is so devious that I was sent all the way over to this blasted frost-bitten country for?
Well, here is what I have discerned from careful observation:
1. He works at a café.
2. He has to wear a stupid apron, which, while quite hilarious, is hardly considered a crime.
3. He has a purple streak on his fringe. What in the name of Merlin is that about??
4. He appears to have made friends(?!) with some of his co-workers. They are, if it is even possible, even stranger than he is.
5. He likes raspberry cheesecake. This is irrelevant, but it seems important to him.
So, there you have it. That is all I have been able to find out so far, and I've been living in this bloody freezing town for the past two weeks. I must conclude that Malfoy is much smarter than I gave him credit for, and is concealing his treachery more thoroughly than I had first thought. I must dig deeper.
"Excuse me, do you sell snow shovels?"
The woman in the green dress was back.
Only in Canada would you find anybody willing to wear a dress in the middle of November. Canadians are completely insane. Why else would the woman be buying apples and a snow shovel?
"No, check next door," I responded, less enthusiastically than store policy required from its employees.
Who was going to report me? I was the manager, after all. At least the Auror Department got that much right. I even had one of those dratted photos displayed on the wall, proclaiming to the world who I was. Well, I guess that's not entirely true, it's telling the world who I'm pretending to be. The personage I'm borrowing is that of a man in his mid-30's. Who has a beard. Yes, a beard. Sure, it's a short beard, but it's still slightly disturbing to look in the mirror and see a beard looking back at me.
No, I am not vain. Not like that utter prat, Malfoy, whose fault it is that I must put up with unpredictable weather, unexpected moose appearances and hockey fanatics.
Finally, closing time.
The store is dark and empty now, and I trudge out to my car across the snow-covered parking lot. I can see my breath on the air, and I zip up my winter jacket. My vehicle coughs to life, sputtering indignantly at me for forcing it to work in such freezing conditions. Grimly, I turn on the heating as high as it can go and reluctantly reach into the back seat for the ice scraper. If I didn't de-ice my windshield with it, I'd be here forever waiting for it all to thaw. This done, I climb back into the car to start out on the journey home, to the one bedroom apartment the Auror Department deigned to assign me to stay in. As I turn out of the parking lot, my back tires skid out across the ice. Even studded tires are no match against a Canadian winter, it appears.
I can't wait to get back to England. I'll never complain about the rain again.
Damn you, Draco Malfoy!
There you have it. Feel free to comment on how stupid it is, although I am aware of the fact. Reinforcement can't hurt. Also, feel free to ask about Canada, which is where I live, in case you weren't aware. In fact, feel free to comment about anything, I'm dying for reviews!
