Petunia Snaps Monster Book Second Printing
Harry Potter is the creation of JK Rowling and is the property of JK Rowling and Warner Brothers. I do not own Harry Potter or its characters, and neither intend nor deserve to financially profit from this story. I am writing for my own amusement and ego gratification.
Petunia Snaps: Two weeks earlier
In another time and place, Carole Shoemaker was forced to rebook her tour of Muggle London from a Tuesday to a Wednesday, and chose to spend her morning visiting Diagon Alley instead.
Hagrid entered Flourish and Blotts and walked over to a display table set in the middle of the store. He smiled at the contents of a bird-cage like enclosure with reinforced bars. Harry would like one o' those, he thought. He reached in and pulled out a book, then quickly closed the cage. "Your pardon, Madam," said the half-giant to a pretty witch he'd brushed against..
"That's OK," said Carole.
Hagrid looked down at the witch. She was in her twenties, perhaps her thirties, auburn-haired, freckled, with a nice smile. The half-giant was charmed by her smile.
"What is it with those books, anyway?" asked Carole. "I mean like they bite."
"They're The Monster Book of Monsters," said Hagrid.
"But aren't they dangerous?" asked the American witch.
"Oh, they're not as bad as all tha," Hagrid said blandly. "Yeh see, the trick is," he said grabbing the book towards its spine, "if yeh stroke it along its spine, it becomes right docile, it does."
The half-giant held the book firmly closed while the American witch gingerly stroked the book along its spine. She did it again, and the book's entire attitude changed. The teeth and claws retracted, the book relaxed, and it began purring in response.
"It likes you, it does," said Hagrid.
"I see," said the American witch.
The American witch smiled, her eyes twinkling in mischief. "I'd like to get a copy," she said.
"Yeh can have that one," said Hagrid.
"But you were the guy who plucked it out of the cage," said the American witch. "You sure you don't want it?'
"Oh, nah," said Hagrid with a gentle, dismissive shake of his hand. I'll get me another one. Besides, it's not for me, it's for a young friend of mine."
"Are you going to keep it?" he asked.
"Actually, I think I'll buy it, then give it as a gift," she said. "My Dad is up in Colorado visiting my Aunt Helen's. He's been complaining that the adventure books he's been reading don't have enough excitement."
"Oh, I think he'll have fun with tha' one then," said Hagrid with a smile and a wink.
"Oh, I think he will," she said.
The American witch turned away and then walked towards the cashier's with her book.
Hagrid smiled, opened the cage again, and pulled out another copy of The Monster Book of Monsters.
After taking the book in a firm grip, he began calming it by stroking it along the spine. It began purring, and he walked up to the cashier's. The American witch had just finished purchasing her book. She looked up at him, gave him a bright smile, then said "Nice to meet you. Thanks for your help! Bye!"
Hagrid walked up to the cashiers with his copy of The Monster Book of Monsters and placed it on the counter. The cashier opened the cover, turned to the back of the title page, looked at it, then closed the book. He looked at Hagrid with concern and said "Are you sure you want this one?"
"It looks all right to me," said Hagrid. "What's the matter with it?"
"Second printing," the cashier replied. "They're trickier than most of them. "
"Most of the first and third printings let you know what they are straight out of the gate. They'll start biting and clawing right after you open the covers. The ones from the second printing don't act that way. They bide their time. They'll wait until you leave it alone on a chair or a shelf or until you're up to page fifty or so, then they'll let you know what they're really about. That's why the second run was short. Unsettled people, it did. You sure you can handle that?"
"Oh, I don't see no problem," said Hagrid confidently. "And I'm sure the boy that I'll be giving the book to will be able to sort it out in short order. He's a likely lad."
"It's your money," said the book clerk. "And don't say I didn't warn you."