The day Lord Voldemort poked my Petunias

A/N: Based on a conversation I had with my mother…I wish I could say that the conversation was exaggerated, we are just that weird.

Ahem

The clock in all it's infinite wisdom on time and space had barely reached mid day when there arose a dreadful noise coming from the vicinity of the small back yard attached to my home.

Instantly Mum jumped to her feet, "What was that noise?"

"What noise?" With my head stuck in a book, not literally of course the reader will understand I was merely perusing a novel; I looked up blinking in confusion having not heard a single thing.

"It came from the dining room, I think." Rushing into the dining room she stopped at the sight of our mackerel striped kitten walking jauntily into the living room as if she owned the place. "Oh, never mind it was only you-know-who."

That caught my attention and jumping to my feet I dashed into the dining room peering through the window at the back of the room into the flower tub filled yard. "Voldemort is in our back yard?"

"It's a possibility." Mum conceded as she began to fill the dishwasher. She seemed unconcerned as to the possibility of the greatest dark wizard in history lurching about her back yard but I could tell it was merely a façade. Mothers are like that, protecting their chickens and all that.

"Well can you believe his nerve, stalking about a perfectly ordinary back yard sniffing our sage…"

"And our mint." Mum interrupted as she ran a dish under the hot water tap to remove a blob of congealed butter.

"…and out mint and poking our petunia's, and where the Hell is Harry Potter, searching for Horcruxes?"

Mum merely shrugged and filled the dishwasher with cutlery, "Well somebody has to I suppose, but I don't like the idea of somebody poking my petunia's at least I should hope nobody has poked my petunia's, but you never can tell nowadays."

"Where is Harry Potter, why isn't he here defending us from evil? Oh no, he's getting an education whilst Weasley watches in fear."

Mum looked up at our ginger and white cat Weasley sprawled on the shed roof, "It's more like indifference."

"Oh come on, Weasley has three emotions, happiness, fear and rage, look how easily Malfoy pisses him off, 'Hey Weasley, you have hair', 'Raargh I'll kill you!', he's not exactly stable."

"No, and don't even think about mentioning spiders to him." I shuddered myself, I don't blame the youngest male Weasley for fearing spiders, evil things they are, purest evil!

"Ginny on the other hand just hexes him into oblivion if he looks at her funny."

"Well don't we all?" Mum had finished stacking the dishwasher and was tidying the kitchen.

"I do hope he doesn't die in the final book, we all know Draco Malfoy is just misunderstood, all he ever does is quote his father and after all somebody who cries in bathroom's and can't kill Dumbledore can't be all bad."

"No, you never know, he could be the hero in the end."

"Lets hope he doesn't end up getting killed trying to save Harry, not that he would he's a Malfoy, they don't do sacrifices." The conversation seemed exhausted and I poured myself a drink to take into the living room, "Weird things do happen around here don't they, poltergeists moving ash trays and now Voldemort poking petunias."

The End

Disclaimed: All belongs to JK Rowling, if I was JK Rowling I'd have more than just a back yard and some tubs of petunias to poke.