A/N: HELP ME HELP ME HELP ME . . . working on 400 point research paper . . . staring at
computer all day . . . eyes have gone numb . . .brain is mush . . . two pages down and six to go . . .
I decided to take a break because I really wanted to write this. The research paper isn't that
important. It only decides whether I pass English 11. If I don't pass English 11 I don't graduate . . .
no biggie.
I have this planned out now! I know what's gonna happen! Yea! *jumping up and down* I don't
know how many chapters, though. I didn't want to plan it out too thoroughly, or it wouldn't be
very fun to write. I like to be surprised when I write. But I do know everything that is going to
happen.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K Rowling, Bloomsbury Publishing, Scholastic Inc., Warner
Bros. and whoever else has their hand in the bag.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Normal
Chapter Three
Ron Weasley got out of the bath tub and dried his flaming red hair. The bath water that was
quickly draining from the small tub was grey with dust and dirt. He put on some clean cloths and
walked on shaky legs to his room. The ghoul moaned and clanged about, sounding as if he was in
pain.
"I know how you feel." Ron said to the ceiling as he threw himself on the bed. He had
made a huge mistake that day. Not just a mistake, a stupid mistake. He should have known better!
What was he, an idiot? He always had to be on the lookout, these days. No where was safe. He
found himself constantly looking over his shoulder and jumping at small noises. He lived in fear,
and now that Voldemort had returned, it seemed worse. It seemed that they never stopped, never
took a break.
Fred and George were ruthless.
Ron had *actually* been doing homework at the kitchen table, minding his own business.
He mindlessly reached for some candy in a dish in the middle of the table, and the next thing he
knew, he was lying on the floor. Everything was huge. The table he had just been sitting at now
towered above him like a skyscraper. He tried to get up, but his legs seemed glued together. He
tried to yell for someone, and his mouth was filled with feathers. He lie there for over an hour
before Molly had come in from the garden.
"Mum!" He said, his mouth once again filling with feathers. She didn't seem to hear him,
but she did see him. Her huge hand picked him up off the ground, and before he realized what
was happening, she began swirling his head around on the furniture, taking him from room to
room. He had a colossal headache after the first five minutes, but the torture went on for half an
hour. Suddenly he was his normal size again, able to move his legs, and most importantly, able to
speak.
"FRED! GEORGE! I"M GOING TO KILL YOU!"
He heard two feet clomping down the stairs, and the twins appeared in the room. "What
did we do?" Fred asked. George nudged him in the side and said in a hushed voice:
"Fred, tell me you remembered to put away the feathered fruties!"
Mrs. Weasley, who had been speechless at the sight of her feather duster suddenly turning
into her son, found her voice. "FEATHERED *WHAT*?"
"Oh, nothing . . . I didn't say anything, how 'bout you Fred?"
"Nope, nothing? Didn't hear a thing, did you George?"
"Nope, not a thing."
"You boys and your . . . your . . . wheezes! How irresponsible can you be! I've given up
on you getting a decent job and forgetting these . .tricks . . . but I at least expect you to be
responsible with them and *not* test them on your siblings!"
"We didn't! I mean, we did . . . but we didn't mean to this time! Honest! Fred just forgot
to put them away!" Their heads moved up and down so fast, they seemed to be practicing
synchronized nodding. The twins had been popping out new tricks for Weasley's Wizarding
Wheezes as fast as they could come up with them. And Feathered Fruties were their latest. 'Turns
the consumer into a feather duster for hours of fun!'
"You boys are old enough to remember to put away your things! Honestly, you are sixteen
years old! Just wait until your father comes home! You'll be grounded into next week!"
Fred cast his eyes between his brothers and his mother. The corners of his mouth turned
up as he said: "You know, mum, we could be killed! What if we get grounded and everyone else is
out, and all of a sudden, dragons descend on the house, and while we valiantly fight it off, we are
no match for it's fiery breath of doom, and all that's left are our ashes? How would you feel if the
last thing you said to us was 'You'll be groun-"
"THAT WON"T WORK THIS TIME!"
The argument went on like that for two hours. Ron, unable to get a word in around his
mother's screaming and the twins defending, shook the dust out of his hair, and went to bathe, and
now, as he lay on his bed, he could still hear them going back and forth, though he could tell it was
dying down - the yelling was now down to "Yes you dids" and "No we didn'ts". He picked up his
new transfiguration book and flipped through it. Just as boring as usual. He tried to read, but he
found his attention kept drifting out the window.
He was looking outside for the third time after trying to read. Hermione said he needed to
study more. He was really studying so he would have some interesting conversation starters to use
on the female part of the Dream Team, although he would never admit it to anyone, especially
himself. He watched a tiny speck flying through the sky. It caught his attention because something
hanging just below the speck was glinting in the sun.
The speck got closer, and closer. He realized it was an owl. A pure white, snowy owl. It
aimed itself at his open window. The only snowy owl he knew was Hedwig.
"Wow. Harry usually doesn't send letters this quickly," he mumbled to himself. "It's only
been three days!" Hedwig flew through his window, hooting madly.
"Calm down, Hedwig!" She swooped in circles around his head, reminding him of Pig,
only she wasn't hyper or excited. Her hoots sounded positively terrified. "What's wrong? What do
you have, Hedwig?" She dropped her burden in his hands.
"Oh my God . . .MUM!!"
* * *
Molly Weasley's heart was pounding like she had just run a marathon. She had been
yelling at Fred and George, when she heard Ron's yell. But it wasn't just an ordinary yell. It
sounded terrified. She had run upstairs to Ron's room to find him facing the window, looking at
an object in his hand, Hedwig flying in circles above his head.
"What is it Ron?"
"Hedwig. . . Harry . . . I don't know . . . just, it's his glasses." He turned and showed her
what was in his hands. It was Harry's glasses, only they were broken . . . and bloody.
"What's going on, Ron?"
"I don't know! I was just . . . and then Hedwig . . .his glasses . . . I don't know!" He
stumbled over his words. His hands shook as he held the broken glasses, covered in dried blood.
"Y-you don't suppose . . .You-Know-Who?"
"I don't know, Ron. Why don't you give me those . . . I'm going to call up Dumbledore
over the fire." She took the glasses from her son's shaking hand, and practically flew down the
stairs. She threw some powder in the fire. This powder was different than floo powder. It called
the person to a fireplace, and made it possible to talk to each other. The fire grew, and she yelled
"Albus Dumbledore!"
* * *
Albus Dumbledore was sitting in his office, thinking up some words of wisdom for next
years sorting ceremony. So far he has come up with tintinnabulation, outre and anomalous. He
was trying to come up with one more, when he heard a roaring from the fireplace. He looked over
and Molly Weasley's head appeared, her eyes wide. She didn't waste time with hellos.
"Professor, I think we have a problem."
"What is it, Molly?" He kept his voice low and calm, because she sounded as if she was
about to pass out.
"That's just it! I don't know! I was downstairs, yelling at Fred and George, when I heard
Ron yelling from upstairs. I went up, and there was Ron, with Hedwig - you know, Harry's owl -
and she was hooting like she had gone mad. I asked Ron what was happening, and he showed me
what Hedwig brought." She pushed the glasses to Dumbledore. "There was no message or note or
anything, and Hedwig is still screeching. Look at them! There's blood!"
Dumbledore had stopped listening once Harry's glasses were given to him. There was an
odd buzzing in his ears. The frame was bent and both lenses were cracked, with dried blood
smeared over them.
"You don't think . . .You-Know-Who . . ."
"No, Molly. Harry is very well protected at the Dursley's. I don't think Voldemort could
have done anything." He was still looking at the glasses in his hands.
"Then what's happened? Maybe Arthur and I should go and check on him. I'm worried."
So am I, Molly. But there's no need for you and Arthur to go all that way. I'll owl
Arabella, she lives right down the street from Harry. She can check on him."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, Molly. Thank you for bringing this to my attention. I will keep you posted."
"Thank you, Headmaster. Oh, dear I hope he's alright."
"So do I, Molly." And with a pop, Molly Weasley's head disappeared. Dumbledore
reached into a golden cup on the mantle, picked up some powder and threw it into the fire yelling
"Arabella Figg!"
* * *
Arabella Figg was sitting at her kitchen table, revamping her scrapbook, when she heard
the roar of the fire from the other room, and Dumbledore's voice call "Arabella?"
She got up and went as quickly as she could to the living room without tripping over a cat.
"Hello, Dumbledore. What brings you to my fire today?"
"I'm afraid it isn't good news. Molly Weasley has just brought these to my attention." He
held out the glasses to her. "Apparently Harry's owl brought them to Molly's son - Harry's best
friend - and was very scared. I would like you to check on Harry, if you would."
"Of course I will!"
"Good, considering the new charm I put up at the end of the year. Harry, you, Minerva
and I are the only wizards who can see Harry's house. I had to talk Molly out of going over herself.
Imagine what would happen if she and Arthur showed up to find Harry's house missing!"
"I know. I'll go right over."
"Make sure you let me know what is happening as soon as you find out."
"Yes, Albus." Dumbledore's head disappeared with a pop. Arabella put on her shoes and a
coat, stuffed her wand in her pocket and left for number four Privet Drive. As she neared the
darkened house, she noticed one on the windows had bars over it. Very peculiar.
It wasn't until she knocked on the door that she realized that it was getting late. She had
no good reason to be there. There were heavy footsteps coming toward the door. She thought
frantically for a reason to have come over so late in the day. The door swung open and there stood
Vernon Dursley.
Vernon was in his pajamas. He gave her an odd look when he opened the door, and then
smiled a large fake smile, so large his eyes squinted shut. It kind of made him look like one of
those dogs that looked like they ran face first into a wall. Still smiling, he said "Why, hello Mrs.
Figg! What brings you here on this fine evening?"
She thought fast, and finally, came up with the oldest cliche in the book. "Hello, Vernon.
I'm terribly sorry to bother you this late, but I am in quite a mess. I need to make a cake for my . .
.er . . .cat . . .club . . .er. . . meeting tomorrow and I've found I have no sugar. Could I bother you
for some? I'm sorry I didn't bring a cup. They are all dirty." Something about his face told her that
she shouldn't just come out and ask about Harry. She didn't know what it was, but something was
terribly wrong.
"Of course, of course. Come on in. PETUNIA!" Petunia's face appeared around the
corner of the living room wall automatically, as if she had been eavesdropping.
"Yes, dear?"
"Mrs. Figg here needs to borrow some sugar. Why don't you get her some?"
"Oh, of course, Mrs. Figg! You can always borrow anything from us, anytime! Just ask
and you can have it!" Petunia sounded as if she was trying just a little *to* hard to be nice. "Why
don't you come in, dear, and you can sit on the couch while I get it for you!"
Arabella stepped inside, and her nostrils were immediately bombarded with the an acrid,
smokey smell. She scrunched up her nose. Vernon must have seen her do this, because he laughed
and said "Dudley. He thought it would be good fun to burn some dead leaves in the fireplace, little
rascal." She didn't know what the smell was, but it *defiantly* wasn't dead leaves.
She sat on the couch, and Vernon sat in a chair across from her. Looking into the
fireplace, she saw quite a large amount of ash in the bottom. She jumped slightly when Vernon
quickly closed the screen in front of the hearth.
"So, Mrs. Figg, how are all the cats doing?" He gave her that large fake smile once again.
"Oh, they're just fine. And how is your son?"
"Oh, Dudley is right as rain! He's been a little under the weather lately, but it's just a cold.
What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, right?" He gave a hearty, booming laugh.
"Er . . .right." Just then, Petunia came back in, carrying a glass measuring cup filled to the
brim with sugar.
"And, here you are! That should do it! If you need anything else, just come on back!"
Arabella took a deep breath and asked what she had really come over for. "So how is that
nephew of yours?" She know the Dursleys didn't like Harry, from what she had heard from
Dumbledore in the past, and also what she had heard herself. Sometimes the Dursleys yelled at
Harry so loudly, it could be heard several houses down.
She saw their faces promptly darken. Vernon's eyes were no longer scrunched up, and
Petunia looked as if she could growl. They looked . . . terrifying. She had seen many things in her
lifetime, and not many things scared her, but the pure hatred they positively oozed out of their
pores alarmed her.
"Why do you ask?" Vernon asked through clenched teeth.
"N-no reason . . . I was just wondering if . . .if he was still, you know, making trouble."
She didn't want to make them any angrier than they were.
"That boy doesn't make trouble. He *IS* trouble. To answer your question, yes he has
caused problems already. We have dealt with him, though, so there's nothing to worry about." The
way he said "dealt" unnerved her.
She got up and went to the door, the two Dursleys following closely. She turned to say
thank you, but when she did, another shock ran through her, as if she had been electrocuted.
Vernon's eyes . . . it couldn't be . . . it wasn't possible! She looked at Petunia and saw the same
thing. NO . . . no . . . not again . . .
She fumbled for the doorknob behind her, threw the door open, and stepped backwards
onto the porch. "T-thank yo-u. I"ll j-just be go-going now." She turned and quickly fled the
property, as quickly as her feet would take her. She spilled sugar in a trail behind her, but she
didn't care.
This couldn't be happening! Not again! She thought they had been rid of that for a long
time now! How could it possibly be happening again? Not now, and certainly, not here! She had to
reach Dumbledore right away. She had to tell him! She feared if they weren't quick about it, Harry
might not have much time.
She had seen this before. It was supposedly an extinct curse. How could the Dursleys
possibly be affected by it?
The trademark of the curse wasn't very obvious, you almost had to be looking for it to
find it. But it was defiantly there.
Both Dursleys had small, red rings around their pupils.
* * *
A/N:
Ok, that wasn't the best chapter. Like I said my brain is mush. I hope it's not too bad. I'll fix it if it
is.
Has anyone else tried to write Hedwig, but kept writing Headwig instead? Or is that just me?
Thank y'all so much for the reviews! I was sitting in the chair reading them and kind of jumping
up and down and laughing from pure joy at the same time. I either looked really hyper or like I had
to use the bathroom really badly, but either way, my brother thinks I am insane. So thank you for
making my family think I'm insane. . .I mean thank you for all the reviews :0)
If anyone has any questions they want me to answer (I know there can't be many yet as this is just
the third chapter) just ask. I will answer them in the next chapter if I can, or if it doesn't ruin the
story.
And I know there was something else I wanted to say but I forgot, so I'll probably remember about
five seconds *after* I post this.
Au Revoir, mes amis!
~Avidia~
computer all day . . . eyes have gone numb . . .brain is mush . . . two pages down and six to go . . .
I decided to take a break because I really wanted to write this. The research paper isn't that
important. It only decides whether I pass English 11. If I don't pass English 11 I don't graduate . . .
no biggie.
I have this planned out now! I know what's gonna happen! Yea! *jumping up and down* I don't
know how many chapters, though. I didn't want to plan it out too thoroughly, or it wouldn't be
very fun to write. I like to be surprised when I write. But I do know everything that is going to
happen.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K Rowling, Bloomsbury Publishing, Scholastic Inc., Warner
Bros. and whoever else has their hand in the bag.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Normal
Chapter Three
Ron Weasley got out of the bath tub and dried his flaming red hair. The bath water that was
quickly draining from the small tub was grey with dust and dirt. He put on some clean cloths and
walked on shaky legs to his room. The ghoul moaned and clanged about, sounding as if he was in
pain.
"I know how you feel." Ron said to the ceiling as he threw himself on the bed. He had
made a huge mistake that day. Not just a mistake, a stupid mistake. He should have known better!
What was he, an idiot? He always had to be on the lookout, these days. No where was safe. He
found himself constantly looking over his shoulder and jumping at small noises. He lived in fear,
and now that Voldemort had returned, it seemed worse. It seemed that they never stopped, never
took a break.
Fred and George were ruthless.
Ron had *actually* been doing homework at the kitchen table, minding his own business.
He mindlessly reached for some candy in a dish in the middle of the table, and the next thing he
knew, he was lying on the floor. Everything was huge. The table he had just been sitting at now
towered above him like a skyscraper. He tried to get up, but his legs seemed glued together. He
tried to yell for someone, and his mouth was filled with feathers. He lie there for over an hour
before Molly had come in from the garden.
"Mum!" He said, his mouth once again filling with feathers. She didn't seem to hear him,
but she did see him. Her huge hand picked him up off the ground, and before he realized what
was happening, she began swirling his head around on the furniture, taking him from room to
room. He had a colossal headache after the first five minutes, but the torture went on for half an
hour. Suddenly he was his normal size again, able to move his legs, and most importantly, able to
speak.
"FRED! GEORGE! I"M GOING TO KILL YOU!"
He heard two feet clomping down the stairs, and the twins appeared in the room. "What
did we do?" Fred asked. George nudged him in the side and said in a hushed voice:
"Fred, tell me you remembered to put away the feathered fruties!"
Mrs. Weasley, who had been speechless at the sight of her feather duster suddenly turning
into her son, found her voice. "FEATHERED *WHAT*?"
"Oh, nothing . . . I didn't say anything, how 'bout you Fred?"
"Nope, nothing? Didn't hear a thing, did you George?"
"Nope, not a thing."
"You boys and your . . . your . . . wheezes! How irresponsible can you be! I've given up
on you getting a decent job and forgetting these . .tricks . . . but I at least expect you to be
responsible with them and *not* test them on your siblings!"
"We didn't! I mean, we did . . . but we didn't mean to this time! Honest! Fred just forgot
to put them away!" Their heads moved up and down so fast, they seemed to be practicing
synchronized nodding. The twins had been popping out new tricks for Weasley's Wizarding
Wheezes as fast as they could come up with them. And Feathered Fruties were their latest. 'Turns
the consumer into a feather duster for hours of fun!'
"You boys are old enough to remember to put away your things! Honestly, you are sixteen
years old! Just wait until your father comes home! You'll be grounded into next week!"
Fred cast his eyes between his brothers and his mother. The corners of his mouth turned
up as he said: "You know, mum, we could be killed! What if we get grounded and everyone else is
out, and all of a sudden, dragons descend on the house, and while we valiantly fight it off, we are
no match for it's fiery breath of doom, and all that's left are our ashes? How would you feel if the
last thing you said to us was 'You'll be groun-"
"THAT WON"T WORK THIS TIME!"
The argument went on like that for two hours. Ron, unable to get a word in around his
mother's screaming and the twins defending, shook the dust out of his hair, and went to bathe, and
now, as he lay on his bed, he could still hear them going back and forth, though he could tell it was
dying down - the yelling was now down to "Yes you dids" and "No we didn'ts". He picked up his
new transfiguration book and flipped through it. Just as boring as usual. He tried to read, but he
found his attention kept drifting out the window.
He was looking outside for the third time after trying to read. Hermione said he needed to
study more. He was really studying so he would have some interesting conversation starters to use
on the female part of the Dream Team, although he would never admit it to anyone, especially
himself. He watched a tiny speck flying through the sky. It caught his attention because something
hanging just below the speck was glinting in the sun.
The speck got closer, and closer. He realized it was an owl. A pure white, snowy owl. It
aimed itself at his open window. The only snowy owl he knew was Hedwig.
"Wow. Harry usually doesn't send letters this quickly," he mumbled to himself. "It's only
been three days!" Hedwig flew through his window, hooting madly.
"Calm down, Hedwig!" She swooped in circles around his head, reminding him of Pig,
only she wasn't hyper or excited. Her hoots sounded positively terrified. "What's wrong? What do
you have, Hedwig?" She dropped her burden in his hands.
"Oh my God . . .MUM!!"
* * *
Molly Weasley's heart was pounding like she had just run a marathon. She had been
yelling at Fred and George, when she heard Ron's yell. But it wasn't just an ordinary yell. It
sounded terrified. She had run upstairs to Ron's room to find him facing the window, looking at
an object in his hand, Hedwig flying in circles above his head.
"What is it Ron?"
"Hedwig. . . Harry . . . I don't know . . . just, it's his glasses." He turned and showed her
what was in his hands. It was Harry's glasses, only they were broken . . . and bloody.
"What's going on, Ron?"
"I don't know! I was just . . . and then Hedwig . . .his glasses . . . I don't know!" He
stumbled over his words. His hands shook as he held the broken glasses, covered in dried blood.
"Y-you don't suppose . . .You-Know-Who?"
"I don't know, Ron. Why don't you give me those . . . I'm going to call up Dumbledore
over the fire." She took the glasses from her son's shaking hand, and practically flew down the
stairs. She threw some powder in the fire. This powder was different than floo powder. It called
the person to a fireplace, and made it possible to talk to each other. The fire grew, and she yelled
"Albus Dumbledore!"
* * *
Albus Dumbledore was sitting in his office, thinking up some words of wisdom for next
years sorting ceremony. So far he has come up with tintinnabulation, outre and anomalous. He
was trying to come up with one more, when he heard a roaring from the fireplace. He looked over
and Molly Weasley's head appeared, her eyes wide. She didn't waste time with hellos.
"Professor, I think we have a problem."
"What is it, Molly?" He kept his voice low and calm, because she sounded as if she was
about to pass out.
"That's just it! I don't know! I was downstairs, yelling at Fred and George, when I heard
Ron yelling from upstairs. I went up, and there was Ron, with Hedwig - you know, Harry's owl -
and she was hooting like she had gone mad. I asked Ron what was happening, and he showed me
what Hedwig brought." She pushed the glasses to Dumbledore. "There was no message or note or
anything, and Hedwig is still screeching. Look at them! There's blood!"
Dumbledore had stopped listening once Harry's glasses were given to him. There was an
odd buzzing in his ears. The frame was bent and both lenses were cracked, with dried blood
smeared over them.
"You don't think . . .You-Know-Who . . ."
"No, Molly. Harry is very well protected at the Dursley's. I don't think Voldemort could
have done anything." He was still looking at the glasses in his hands.
"Then what's happened? Maybe Arthur and I should go and check on him. I'm worried."
So am I, Molly. But there's no need for you and Arthur to go all that way. I'll owl
Arabella, she lives right down the street from Harry. She can check on him."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, Molly. Thank you for bringing this to my attention. I will keep you posted."
"Thank you, Headmaster. Oh, dear I hope he's alright."
"So do I, Molly." And with a pop, Molly Weasley's head disappeared. Dumbledore
reached into a golden cup on the mantle, picked up some powder and threw it into the fire yelling
"Arabella Figg!"
* * *
Arabella Figg was sitting at her kitchen table, revamping her scrapbook, when she heard
the roar of the fire from the other room, and Dumbledore's voice call "Arabella?"
She got up and went as quickly as she could to the living room without tripping over a cat.
"Hello, Dumbledore. What brings you to my fire today?"
"I'm afraid it isn't good news. Molly Weasley has just brought these to my attention." He
held out the glasses to her. "Apparently Harry's owl brought them to Molly's son - Harry's best
friend - and was very scared. I would like you to check on Harry, if you would."
"Of course I will!"
"Good, considering the new charm I put up at the end of the year. Harry, you, Minerva
and I are the only wizards who can see Harry's house. I had to talk Molly out of going over herself.
Imagine what would happen if she and Arthur showed up to find Harry's house missing!"
"I know. I'll go right over."
"Make sure you let me know what is happening as soon as you find out."
"Yes, Albus." Dumbledore's head disappeared with a pop. Arabella put on her shoes and a
coat, stuffed her wand in her pocket and left for number four Privet Drive. As she neared the
darkened house, she noticed one on the windows had bars over it. Very peculiar.
It wasn't until she knocked on the door that she realized that it was getting late. She had
no good reason to be there. There were heavy footsteps coming toward the door. She thought
frantically for a reason to have come over so late in the day. The door swung open and there stood
Vernon Dursley.
Vernon was in his pajamas. He gave her an odd look when he opened the door, and then
smiled a large fake smile, so large his eyes squinted shut. It kind of made him look like one of
those dogs that looked like they ran face first into a wall. Still smiling, he said "Why, hello Mrs.
Figg! What brings you here on this fine evening?"
She thought fast, and finally, came up with the oldest cliche in the book. "Hello, Vernon.
I'm terribly sorry to bother you this late, but I am in quite a mess. I need to make a cake for my . .
.er . . .cat . . .club . . .er. . . meeting tomorrow and I've found I have no sugar. Could I bother you
for some? I'm sorry I didn't bring a cup. They are all dirty." Something about his face told her that
she shouldn't just come out and ask about Harry. She didn't know what it was, but something was
terribly wrong.
"Of course, of course. Come on in. PETUNIA!" Petunia's face appeared around the
corner of the living room wall automatically, as if she had been eavesdropping.
"Yes, dear?"
"Mrs. Figg here needs to borrow some sugar. Why don't you get her some?"
"Oh, of course, Mrs. Figg! You can always borrow anything from us, anytime! Just ask
and you can have it!" Petunia sounded as if she was trying just a little *to* hard to be nice. "Why
don't you come in, dear, and you can sit on the couch while I get it for you!"
Arabella stepped inside, and her nostrils were immediately bombarded with the an acrid,
smokey smell. She scrunched up her nose. Vernon must have seen her do this, because he laughed
and said "Dudley. He thought it would be good fun to burn some dead leaves in the fireplace, little
rascal." She didn't know what the smell was, but it *defiantly* wasn't dead leaves.
She sat on the couch, and Vernon sat in a chair across from her. Looking into the
fireplace, she saw quite a large amount of ash in the bottom. She jumped slightly when Vernon
quickly closed the screen in front of the hearth.
"So, Mrs. Figg, how are all the cats doing?" He gave her that large fake smile once again.
"Oh, they're just fine. And how is your son?"
"Oh, Dudley is right as rain! He's been a little under the weather lately, but it's just a cold.
What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, right?" He gave a hearty, booming laugh.
"Er . . .right." Just then, Petunia came back in, carrying a glass measuring cup filled to the
brim with sugar.
"And, here you are! That should do it! If you need anything else, just come on back!"
Arabella took a deep breath and asked what she had really come over for. "So how is that
nephew of yours?" She know the Dursleys didn't like Harry, from what she had heard from
Dumbledore in the past, and also what she had heard herself. Sometimes the Dursleys yelled at
Harry so loudly, it could be heard several houses down.
She saw their faces promptly darken. Vernon's eyes were no longer scrunched up, and
Petunia looked as if she could growl. They looked . . . terrifying. She had seen many things in her
lifetime, and not many things scared her, but the pure hatred they positively oozed out of their
pores alarmed her.
"Why do you ask?" Vernon asked through clenched teeth.
"N-no reason . . . I was just wondering if . . .if he was still, you know, making trouble."
She didn't want to make them any angrier than they were.
"That boy doesn't make trouble. He *IS* trouble. To answer your question, yes he has
caused problems already. We have dealt with him, though, so there's nothing to worry about." The
way he said "dealt" unnerved her.
She got up and went to the door, the two Dursleys following closely. She turned to say
thank you, but when she did, another shock ran through her, as if she had been electrocuted.
Vernon's eyes . . . it couldn't be . . . it wasn't possible! She looked at Petunia and saw the same
thing. NO . . . no . . . not again . . .
She fumbled for the doorknob behind her, threw the door open, and stepped backwards
onto the porch. "T-thank yo-u. I"ll j-just be go-going now." She turned and quickly fled the
property, as quickly as her feet would take her. She spilled sugar in a trail behind her, but she
didn't care.
This couldn't be happening! Not again! She thought they had been rid of that for a long
time now! How could it possibly be happening again? Not now, and certainly, not here! She had to
reach Dumbledore right away. She had to tell him! She feared if they weren't quick about it, Harry
might not have much time.
She had seen this before. It was supposedly an extinct curse. How could the Dursleys
possibly be affected by it?
The trademark of the curse wasn't very obvious, you almost had to be looking for it to
find it. But it was defiantly there.
Both Dursleys had small, red rings around their pupils.
* * *
A/N:
Ok, that wasn't the best chapter. Like I said my brain is mush. I hope it's not too bad. I'll fix it if it
is.
Has anyone else tried to write Hedwig, but kept writing Headwig instead? Or is that just me?
Thank y'all so much for the reviews! I was sitting in the chair reading them and kind of jumping
up and down and laughing from pure joy at the same time. I either looked really hyper or like I had
to use the bathroom really badly, but either way, my brother thinks I am insane. So thank you for
making my family think I'm insane. . .I mean thank you for all the reviews :0)
If anyone has any questions they want me to answer (I know there can't be many yet as this is just
the third chapter) just ask. I will answer them in the next chapter if I can, or if it doesn't ruin the
story.
And I know there was something else I wanted to say but I forgot, so I'll probably remember about
five seconds *after* I post this.
Au Revoir, mes amis!
~Avidia~