Penname:  Kiara

Title:  Little Whinging Primary

Email:  angeldlsm00@hotmail.com, lavenderrain00@hotmail.com

AOL Instant Messanger:  FoxyD227, LavnderRain00

Forgive my mistakes, for I am American.

PhoenixTear:  A good note, yes.  Hadn't realized, but I supposed 'tis a good thing.

Rowenna:  Glad you like the story.  As for the LLB sequel, I haven't even started writing it yet, though I have started planning it.  The thing is, I'm writing four stories now, and I want to finish at least one before I start writing it.  So – if I actually get my arse on writing, I have about five chapters left to write of one story.  I'll let you know when I start writing.  Also, I do now have a beta, so if you would like to talk to me about that, email me.

Daisy8781:  The thing about the good moments was that if Harry never had them, I don't know how he would have ever been so well adjusted when he went to Hogwarts.  With a childhood like Harry's, he should be defensive, and not so outgoing around people, but he wasn't.  He realized that he didn't deserve being shoved in a cupboard, and was very ready to make friends with Ron on the Hogwarts Express.  I figured that had to come from somewhere.

Alvild:  Meet up with the kids?  You know, I'm going to do it.  When this is finished, after the epilogue, I'm going to write a short story sequel.  I'm not sure what is going to happen yet, but it will come about.

Rita Skeeter:  Your suggestions are so helpful.  I like the idea of Dumbledore watching him.  Will keep it in mind.

Disclaimer:  You can tell I'm not JK Rowling because I make too many mistakes and have a million plot holes.

Chapter Five:  Bertha Jorkins

One of the best things about October was that Miss Hudson had announced that she switched the seating arrangement every month.  No longer was Harry seated in front of Malcolm, something that was almost worth having to be the Little Whinging Primary fifth year retard.  Where before there had been five rows of five, stretching from the front of the classroom to the back, there were now four rows of six going side to side.  Before, the desks had been separated, but now they were pushed together, and Harry was seated on the left end of the last row.  It had been a big improvement, being in the back row, especially since Harry didn't have to be bothered with paper clips or hair torture.  In fact, it was almost a pleasant seating arrangement.  Robbie Hamilton, a boy who never paid Harry much attention, sat in front of him, and he was fortunate enough to have Amanda Graves on his right.  She didn't talk to him much since Nikki sat in front of her, and they spent most of the period passing notes, but even Harry hadn't expected things to be that good.  The real enjoyment, however, came from the fact that Dudley was on Nikki's right, and she spent most of the school day arguing with him and being threatened with serious bodily damage.

It was mid-month, and it was early in the morning as Harry sat bent over his reading assignment.  Miss Hudson was currently meeting with the level one reading group, which contained Dudley, and he could hear their voices taking turns on reading their story while he completed his assignment.  Next to him, Amanda was tapping her pencil on the desk with her right hand, her head resting on her open palm of her left hand, her fingers buried in her hair.

"Harry," she hissed, "do you understand the third passage?"

"I'm not there yet," he replied.

"Would you look for me?  I don't get it.  I'll help you with the first two."

Every now and then it was nice to be treated like a human being, and Harry was more than willing to flip ahead in their packet.  He imagined that if Nikki was in their reading group, Amanda wouldn't have bothered to ask Harry, but he wasn't going to let something like that get in the way of his good mood.

"This is kind of confusing," said Harry, looking it over.

"You too?" she asked, frowning.

"Let me read it over again."

Harry skimmed back over the passage about something to do with spinning glass, and glanced again at the questions which followed.  For the next ten minutes, he and Amanda went over the passage sentence by sentence, trying to get through it, and once they had answered all seventeen questions, they backtracked for Amanda to help Harry with what he had been working on earlier.

"So, you see," Amanda said, plainly, "the answer is C, because the writer's usage of tone is the most important factor."

"How did you get that?"

"Nikki helped me out a bit.  She's a lot better at reading than I am, but I beat her in math any day."

Harry couldn't help but return the grin that Amanda was offering him.  From the back of the classroom, there was a shuffling at the reading table, and Harry could hear the students from group one standing up.  Miss Hudson had finished with them, and that meant she would be calling level two back soon.  Amanda wasn't paying attention, pointing out a sentence in the second story of their packet to Harry, explaining what Nikki had told her about the tone.

"Group two," said Miss Hudson, cutting off Amanda's voice and causing the scattered chatter to diminish, "come back to the reading table, please."

Amanda arched her eyebrows at Harry, put her packet away in her reading folder, and slipped a pencil into one of the flaps before standing up from her seat.  As Amanda pushed in her chair, Nikki caught her eye and scrunched up her nose, motioning to where Dudley sat next to her.  Giving them both a mischievous look, Nikki grabbed her ruler out of her pencil box and started to poke Dudley with it.  Amanda was laughing, and Harry tried not to let Dudley see his amusement as he gathered his reading folder together.  The two were in a hushed argument about who was more superior when Harry and Amanda headed for the reading table.

Sitting down next to Miss Hudson, Harry was happy when Amanda sat down on his other side.  Sometimes, Amanda was sitting on the other side of the table, or with Robbie Hamilton, and Harry usually ended up having to grit his teeth and try not to be embarrassed while the rest of the class avoided sitting next to him.  The rest of the group, however, didn't even look at Harry twice (if they even looked once) as they took their seats, though Miss Hudson had her eyes trailing back and forth between Harry and his classmates like it was oxygen.

"Let's start with a reminder," said Miss Hudson, opening the green level two folder, and paging through the papers.  "Your packets are due this Friday.  If you run into any difficulty, please come see me, or talk to one of your group members.  This is only for guidance, however.  I don't want you sharing answers or doing someone else's work.  I want it handed in, completed in full, when we meet on Friday.  Does anyone have any questions?"

There was silence, Miss Hudson looking around at her class, and them staring back at her in return.  Most of the stares were from blank faces, completely wiped of any attention, and Miss Hudson tried not to heave a sigh.

"Has anyone had any problems?  Don't be afraid to ask for help."  Tentatively, Robbie Hamilton raised his hand.  "Yes, Robbie?"

"Story three's focus is confusing," he said.

"I was worried about that.  Anyone else having a problem with the focus?"  Amanda, now, raised her hand, along with several other students in the group.  They were all watching each other, as if to see if they were the only one, and whether or not they could chance having their friends know they didn't understand.  "Amanda?"

"Harry and I were confused, too, but we worked through it."

"Good!" said Miss Hudson, smiling broadly first at Amanda, then at Harry.  "That's very excellent.  Robbie, when we finish here, you can either discuss it with Amanda and Harry, or you can see me about it.  The same goes for the rest of you.  If you're confused, don't just make things up and hope for the best.  Okay?"

"Yes," said Robbie, nodding, and looking at Amanda to smirk.

"Right then.  Moving on, we're going to be starting a reading project for the next few weeks.  I'll be giving you some time in class to complete it, but you may have to get together after school or on weekends as well.  I want you to get in groups of two, three, or four, and pick a book.  I don't care what book it is so long as you bring it to me, and I will approve it.  You'll be reading it together, and making a mobile for presentation to the class on November first."

Standing up, Miss Hudson moved over to her desk, grabbed a stack of paper, and set it down in the middle of the reading table.

"This is your packet.  It contains information on what needs to be on your mobile, how your mobile should be constructed, and what you're going to be graded on.  I want you to each take one, and then get into your groups.  Come let me know who you'll be working with, then you can start discussing books.  If you can't find a partner, please come see me."

Harry felt his stomach lurch, his throat fighting back a groan.  He had a feeling that last line was said for him.  That was always him.  His classmates would always go and pair up with each other, then when Harry would ask to join them, they would make excuses.  Harry had even had people partner up with kids they often fought with just so that they didn't have to be with Harry.  Glancing nervously around the table, Harry's eyes landed on Amanda.  She was nice to him most of the time.  Maybe she would work with him.  If it weren't for the fact she was mouthing something across the table to Robbie, Harry would have almost felt less sick and annoyed by this assignment.

At the end of the table, Harry could hear Jennifer Bree loudly partnering with Mindy and Kristy.  David was working with Dennis and Gordon.  Amanda, who was probably his last hope, wasn't even paying attention to him.

"Er - Amanda?" Harry said, hoping he was loud enough to grab her attention, and yet soft enough not to grab anyone else's.

"Hm?" she said, swinging her head around and catching a piece of her dark blonde hair in her mouth.  Her eyes deepened, crossed, and glanced down as she tried to see her lips, her fingers yanking the piece out.  "I hate it when it does that," she muttered to herself.  Looking up, she caught sight of Harry staring at her, and her face broke out into a huge grin.  "What?"

"Can I work with you on the project?"

His eyes were wide, pleading, and Harry felt very stupid sitting there with her while Robbie was watching them both.  In fact, Miss Hudson was probably watching, too, but he didn't really care right now.  Amanda's lips slightly parted, and she glanced over at Robbie, her words caught in her throat.

"Oh.  Well - er - I'm working with Robbie, but you're welcome to work with us if you like.  Robbie would be nice.  And you know he's friends with my cousin and all, so if he wasn't, I'd just get my mum to tell his mum, and Robbie has a scary mum when she's angry."

"I don't want to be a bother -"

"Oh, don't worry about it," said Amanda.  Standing up, she motioned for Harry to follow her, and they rounded to table to join Robbie on the other side.  "Harry's going to work with us, too, Robbie.  Okay?"

Robbie was a good five inches taller than Harry, and he angled his head slightly down to take Harry in.  His eyes were darker than usual, and he glanced from Harry's stance to Amanda's steely gaze that was fixing him.  Swallowing visibly, he nodded and forced a smile.

"Sure.  We can work together.  I'll tell Miss Hudson.  Er - Harry, your last name's Potter, right?"

"Yeah," he replied, and Robbie nodded, turning away and walking over to Miss Hudson's desk, where she was talking to Jennifer, Kristy, and Mindy.

"There," said Amanda.  "That was simple.  Now, we have to pick a book.  I was thinking Island of the Blue Dolphins, or something C.S. Lewis.  I'm a big C.S. Lewis fan."

"Who's C.S. Lewis?" asked Harry.

"He wrote the Narnia Chronicles.  The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe is the one mostly everyone knows."

"Never heard of it," said Harry, feeling himself turn pink.  He hated this, being in the dark because the Dursleys had never let him join the library, even though they wouldn't let him watch television either.  It was a boring life at the Dursley house.

Amanda, however, couldn't believe that Harry had never heard of Narnia, and once she got over the shock, she started flailing her hands about, telling Harry all about how wonderful the books were.  She kept going on about some bloke named Caspian, whom she was deeply in love with, and would marry if fictional characters were real.  When Robbie returned, he smirked at her, sat on the desk next to Harry, and turned to him.

"Going on about what a genius C.S. Lewis is again?" asked Robbie.  Harry nodded.  "Her cousin, Matt, says she's obsessive about things.  I agree.  I've never read any of the books, though.  I suppose I don't have room to talk."

"You don't," said Amanda, harshly.  "That's it.  I've decided.  We're reading The Magician's Nephew.  I'm going to tell Miss Hudson, and she never has to know I already read it.  Besides, two out of the three of us haven't, and everyone needs to know about Narnia."

Walking away, Amanda continued to mumble to herself about Narnia, and what a crime it was that neither Harry nor Robbie had picked up one of the books before.  There was an awkward silence that hung in the air between Robbie and Harry while she was gone, and it was only when she returned to tell them that their book had been approved that it was dispelled.

"Robbie's going to be away for the week before Halloween," said Amanda, "so I think that we should get the project done before he goes to Ireland."

"You're going to Ireland?" said Harry.

"Holiday with my family to see my grandparents," explained Robbie.

"My point is, Harry and I aren't doing the whole thing just because you're going away.  I will do my share of the work, and only my share of the work."  Opening up her folder, Amanda pulled out a little calendar book with a picture of water lilies on the front, opened it, and started marking the pages with her pencil.  Chewing on the eraser, she said, "Since Robbie leaves on the twenty-second, and it's already the fifteenth, it means we have to start working.  Are you doing anything this weekend?"

Staring at her with big eyes, Harry tried to mentally will his jaw shut, and it took focusing all of his concentration on the task to be able to do so.  Robbie recovered first, though he was also intimidated by the take-charge attitude Amanda suddenly adopted when Nikki wasn't around, and he cleared his throat.

"I'm going to Matt's birthday party on Saturday night, but other than that, I'm free."

"Matt's party starts at six, right?" said Amanda, checking her calendar.

"Yeah."

"Harry, are you free on Saturday?  I have church and Sunday School on Sunday."

"Yes," he replied.  Harry was free every Saturday, unless the Dursleys had something for him to do.  So long as Amanda didn't want to meet at the Dursleys, though, Harry didn't think there would be a problem working on the assignment.  After all, they liked Harry to go away every opportunity that was presented.  It was the main reason why he had an almost perfect school attendance record.

"Can you both come over to my house on Saturday?  Have the book read before then.  Take it out of the school library.  If you can't find it, I'll lend you my copy.  I've already read it, anyway."

"Magician's Nephew, right?" said Robbie, grabbing a pen and writing it down on his arm.

"Yep.  C.S. Lewis."

Harry, also, copied this down, though decided to put it on a piece of paper instead.  The last time he had put ink on his skin, Aunt Petunia had thought he joined some sort of a cult, and he spent forty minutes in the bathroom with her rubbing at his skin until it was raw, red, and stinging with pain.

"Amanda, where do you live?" asked Harry.

"Here," she said, grabbing the paper from him, and soon she started to draw lines all over it.  "You live on Privet Drive, right?"  Harry nodded.  "The directions are in landmarks.  I don't know street names, but I know how to get to Nikki's from my house, so I just put reverse instructions on it with my address.  If you get lost, ask someone where to find Birch Avenue.  They'll direct you."

When they were sent back to their seats and level three was called back, Harry and Amanda went back to work on their packet, Robbie turned around in his seat before Harry to add his own input.  Level three students returned from learning about their projects not much later, and Nikki went back to insulting Dudley, and receiving threats to her respiratory system.  Miss Hudson straightened up the reading table, put her things from reading away, and returned to the front of the classroom.

"Now that you've all received your reading assignments, before we go on to this week's spelling list, I'd like to take this time to let you know about this year's Halloween party.  A sign up sheet will be hanging on the bulletin board all week, and anyone wishing to bring a snack for the party should sign up on the chart.  On Halloween, we'll be taking the time after lunch to celebrate the holiday.  If you want, you may bring a costume to change into, and we'll be playing games for prizes, bonus points, and free homework passes."

Nikki turned around in her seat to glance at Amanda, pull the end of their plans out of the desk just enough for Amanda to see, and wriggled her eyebrows.  Covering her mouth with her hand, Amanda stifled a laugh and nodded.

A Halloween party.  Dudley, of course, would bring his trick-or-treating costume to school, because though Uncle Vernon disliked the holiday, claiming it was for freaks, Aunt Petunia insisted that Dudley be like the other children.  When put this way, Uncle Vernon yielded.  His son would not be known as the freak who didn't go trick-or-treating on Halloween.

Harry, however, was never allowed to dress up.  Uncle Vernon would never allow him to go out with the family unless it was necessary, and whenever he was out with Dudley, his cousin often did things to degrade Harry, like telling the entire fifth year class that Harry was retarded.  Usually, Harry had to sit by the door inside the house and hand out sweets.  Just last year, Uncle Vernon had gone out to buy a security camera, just in case Harry decided to nick some of the sweets for himself.  Somehow, he didn't think that this year was going to be any different.

*****

"Where's this girl's house?" Aunt Petunia asked, and Harry looked up from his breakfast to see Aunt Petunia putting more bacon on Dudley's plate.

"Three-forty-three Birch Avenue," Harry replied, shoveling eggs into his mouth before Dudley went through the last of his own.

"You can walk, can't you?"

Nodding, Harry said, "Yes.  She gave me directions."

"And this is for school?"

"Yes, Aunt Petunia.  It's a reading project."

"Fine," was her curt reply as she moved back to the stove.  Uncle Vernon lowered his paper, peered at Harry over the top of it, and his beady eyes turned to slits.

"When was the last time you had a haircut, boy?" barked Uncle Vernon.

"I just took him two weeks ago," said Aunt Petunia.

"He needs to go again!  Schedule an appointment for next weekend.  We can't have him walking around here like that.  Don't go to that girl's house before properly combing your hair.  You hear me, boy?"

Harry sighed.  "Yes, Uncle Vernon."  His eyes turned to slits of jade as he glared at Dudley, who was sniggering unpleasantly next to him.

"When are you leaving?" asked Aunt Petunia, writing down a note on a memo pad to call the barbers again.  Harry was so sick of going to the barbers that he wouldn't be completely against cutting his hair on his own.  It wasn't his fault.  His hair just liked growing that way.  He couldn't do anything about it, and they should know.  Uncle Vernon had tried everything to tidy up Harry's appearance, though didn't seem to care about the way Dudley's old clothes fit him at all.  So went the life with the Dursleys.  To think he still had years ahead of him here.

"Amanda said to go over around noon."

"And when are you coming back?"

"Amanda said six o'clock."

"I hope they plan on feeding you," said Aunt Petunia.  "Certainly, they don't expect me to cook for you when you've been with them all day long."

"I'm sure they don't expect that," agreed Harry, trying to keep things as smooth as possible before it was time to leave.

Once breakfast was over, Harry had dusted and vacuumed the living room and was packing things into the tattered remains of his backpack when the doorbell rang.  There was no pounding overhead, like there usually was when Dudley was answering the door, and Aunt Petunia was still out in the yard, admiring her flower garden.  Since Uncle Vernon had gone into the office this morning to catch up on some things he fell behind in during the week, that only left Harry.  Abandoning his school books, Harry left his cupboard to answer the door.

"Potter," sneered Calvin Bruce, standing there with Dennis, and David.  "I didn't know you lived with Dudley."

"Harry's lived with Dudley since he was a baby," Dennis informed his.  "His father is in prison."

"My father is not in prison," said Harry, holding the door open for the three to enter.  "Why are you here?"

"To work on the reading project," said David.  "What did your father do to go to prison?"

"My father isn't in prison," repeated Harry.  "My father is dead."

"I heard you were retarded," said Calvin, as if Harry had never said the last line.  "Is that true?"

"No, I'm not retarded," said Harry, heading for the stairs.

"I heard you were told you weren't retarded so that it didn't upset you.  Dudley said you can't understand it," said David.

"Yeah, that's it," muttered Harry, climbing the stair case, and heading for Dudley's room.

Knocking on his cousin's door, Harry told Dudley that Dennis, Calvin, and David were downstairs, and Dudley followed Harry back to the main floor. 

"Tell Aunt Petunia I'm leaving," said Harry, grabbing his bag from his cupboard and slamming the door.  He could hear Dudley confirming Harry's 'mental disability' while he walked outside, and Harry was pleased to be out of there.

Finding Birch Avenue wasn't difficult.  It was a twenty minute walk from Privet Drive, and it had been easy to follow Amanda's instructions, which came with drawings of stick figures and descriptions of all the locations where he needed to turn.  Walking down the street, Harry found the house marked 343.  It was a small two-story home with a driveway to the left that had two bicycles sitting there, supported by their kickstands.  A wooden mailbox was hanging next to the door, the name GRAVES painted on it in black.

Two eyes were peeking over the curtain rod of one of the front windows, reminding him of Aunt Petunia, as he walked up the walkway.  Ringing the doorbell, Harry could hear it chime inside, and the eyes from the window disappeared.  Less than thirty seconds later, the door opened a short, kindly woman ushered him inside.

"You must be Amanda's friend, Harry," she said, excitedly.  "She's told me all about you.  How do you like class with Miss Hudson this year?"

"It's all right," said Harry, biting his lower lip.

"That's wonderful to hear.  Robbie is already here.  He's leaving at three to go shopping before Matthew's birthday party, but you're welcome to stay until six.  They're in the family room.  Here, let me show you."

Even if Harry had time to stop Mrs. Graves from seizing him by the arm and leading him down the narrow hallway, his mind wouldn't have been fast enough to figure out what she was trying to do before it actually happened.  Two rooms down on the right, Mrs. Graves led him in through an archway, and he could see Amanda and Robbie sitting on the floor, surrounded by poster board, hangers, crayons, markers, and their packets.

"Hi, Harry," chirped Amanda.  "Mum!  Leave him alone!"

"I was only talking to him."

"Well, go!"

Mrs. Graves grinned at Amanda, and patted Harry on the small of his back before retreating.

"I don't know what your problem is," said Robbie once she had gone.

"She's annoying!" cried Amanda.  "You don't understand.  She's so embarrassing.  I can't take her anywhere."

"She was nice to me," said Harry, walking over to join them.  Reaching into his bag, he pulled out The Magician's Nephew and handed it to Amanda.  "Here's your book back."

The school library had only one copy of the book, which Robbie had gotten to first.  Since the Dursleys would never buy Harry a copy, and he didn't go to the public library, Harry had to borrow Amanda's copy, and he had loved it.  Every single page had held him captive, what with talking animals and a magical world that the people of this one didn't know existed.  He had to keep it hidden under his mattress, and only read it at night in his cupboard with only a flashlight he had taken from the shed to illuminate the words.  The Dursleys would have had Amanda's book in the fireplace in a matter of seconds if they had known what he was reading.  Nevertheless, he was exhilarated with it, and when they began discussion on the book, Harry couldn't believe Robbie's less than lukewarm emotions.

"I mean, it was amazing," said Harry, his entire face lighting up.

"It was okay," said Robbie, shrugging.  "So what?  There was a crazy old guy with a bunch of rings.  The best part was when the animals tried to plant the old guy in the ground."

"I thought it was wonderful, all those different worlds.  I liked when Digory and Polly when to Charon and met Jadis, even is she was evil."

"I like that part, too, but I like when Narnia is created best," said Amanda.

Robbie only shrugged, and they worked diligently on their mobile.  When it was almost completed, it was three o'clock, and Robbie's parents had arrived to pick him up.  He hugged Amanda before leaving, but only stared at Harry hard and said a short good-bye before rushing out of the room.

"Don't mind Robbie," said Amanda, tying the strings together to the hanger.  "I think he heard the retarded rumor, and some people are afraid of retarded folk.  One of those fear of the unknown things.  It's a lot of rot, but it still happens.  I can't imagine why he'd believe it, though.  All anyone with a brain would need to do is take one look at you to know you aren't retarded.  Besides, it was Dudley who said it, and nothing he says is to be trusted anyway."

Finishing her knots, Amanda said, "There," and held up the hanger.  "What do you think of our mobile so far?"

"Nice.  What else do we need to add?"

"Our opinions.  I was saving that part for just the two of us, because I don't think Robbie really read the whole book.  He complained a lot before you came about how long it was, which is ridiculous, because it's really short compared to other books I read."

"I loved it."

"Me, too.  Silly, that Robbie.  I'm telling you.  You're staying until six, right?"

"Yeah."

"Mum said we could go out for dinner after Robbie left and we finished the mobile.  Where do you want to go?"

"Er - I don't care," said Harry, shrugging.

"Well, what do you want to eat?"

"I don't care.  Anything."

"Oh, I get it.  You're one of those.  I'm one of those people, too.  Whatever is convenient is usually what I go with.  Nikki, though, always knows precisely what she wants, and when she wants it.  I've gotten into the habit of asking.  Well, if you don't want anything particular, then we can just go have pizza.  You like pizza, right?"

"Who doesn't?" said Harry, grinning.

"You'd be surprised," said Amanda, also grinning.  "Nikki hates cheese, which means she hates pizza.  In fact, Nikki is a really picky eater, which is probably why you always have to ask her what she wants."

"Nikki hates pizza?" said Harry, in disbelief.  The Dursleys didn't get pizza often, and when they did, Dudley usually ate it all.  The only thing Harry would get would be the pieces that Dudley didn't want, which usually was nothing at all.

"Not really the pizza per se.  Just the cheese.  She picks the cheese off, which means she's eating dough and spaghetti sauce.  Weird, isn't it?"

Amanda shrugged, scrawling her opinion of The Magician's Nephew on the last piece of paper, and handing it over for Harry to read.

The Magician's Nephew was a book with many different aspects.  It made us laugh, and it also made us wonder what was coming next.  It had a little something for everyone, and we each loved it in a different way.  When discussing our favorite parts, in fact, we all had a different one.  One thing we can agree on, however, is that this is a wonderful read, and we would recommend it to a friend.

"If I had any friends, that is," said Harry, nodding, as he handed it back to Amanda.

"You have friends," said Amanda, rubbing a glue stick on the back before sticking it to a piece of green construction paper.

"No, I really don't."

"What do you call me?"

"You're my friend?" asked Harry.

"Sure, I am.  Nikki's my best friend, but you're my friend, too.  Kind of.  Nikki and I don't let just anyone hang out with us at recess.  Staci Bree used to try to be our friend until third year, but then she yelled at us for using her markers wrong, and we've disliked her intensely ever since."

"There's a right way to use markers?"

"Apparently," said Amanda, shrugging.  "Course, you probably wouldn't want to be friends with me and Nikki.  We do a lot of weird things.  Last year, we sent Stephanie Crowe this letter with bits of a clay figurine that Nikki made.  It was supposed to be a love letter.  Stephanie thought it was from Andrew Klimkowski, and her dad came into school to yell at him.  We thought it was funny.  It's a good thing for us that Nikki's dad is on the police force."

"Nikki gets into a lot of trouble, doesn't she?"

"Nope," said Amanda, shaking her head.  "We do stuff, but we don't ever get caught.  That's the key.  At least Nikki says that's the key."

"Hey," said Mrs. Grave, coming into the room, "you two done yet?"

"Yep," said Amanda, snipping off the last of excess string.

"You want to come shopping with me and Dad?  We have to go get some presents for your sister's birthday, and we need to get Halloween sweets.  I thought you two might want to walk around the mall a bit before we go for dinner."

"Do you want to go?" said Amanda, turning to Harry.

Harry, who didn't go shopping much, nodded.

"And what do you want for dinner?"

"Pizza," Amanda replied.

"Okay.  I'm going to go tell your dad and then we can go.  Get your jackets in the meantime."

Harry followed Amanda into the hallway, where she got her jacket out.

"Didn't you wear one?" she asked.  Harry shook his head.  The only jacket he had was Dudley's old one, which was far too large, and Harry only wore when it was so cold out that he couldn't walk right.  "Hey, Harry," she said, pulling her hair out of her jacket and letting it fall around her face, "do you want to borrow the other Narnia books?  I mean, since you liked the first one so much?"

"Yes, please," said Harry, trying not to sound as excited as the butterflies batting around in his stomach made him.  Amanda grinned, and motioned for him to follow.

They went up the stairs, down the hall, and Amanda opened the door to a pale yellow room with a grey carpet.  It was small, not much larger than his cupboard, truthfully, with a white bureau across from the bed, and there was a small desk in the corner.  Amanda dropped first to her knees, then to her stomach, and disappeared partially under the bed.  Only her legs sticking out indicated that she was down there.  When she returned, she was holding a copy of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe.

"This is the second book.  When you finish it, bring it in to school and I'll give you the third one."

"Okay," said Harry, taking the book in his hands.  When they returned downstairs, Harry added it to his bag, and they walked out to the car.

"How old is that bag?" Amanda asked once her father had come out and they were on their way to the mall.

"Amanda, that isn't nice to ask!" said Mrs. Graves.

"Well, it looks like it's going to fall apart!"

"It used to be Dudley's," explained Harry.

"Do you have anything that wasn't once your cousin's?"

"Well, the Dursleys think it's a waste of money to just get rid of Dudley's old things, so they give them to me.  That way, nothing goes to waste."

"And they save by not giving you anything new," said Amanda.

"Amanda," said Mrs. Graves.

"It's true!  You should see how spoiled his cousin is.  It would make you sick."

"He is kind of spoiled," admitted Harry.

Arriving at the mall, Mr. Graves instructed them to meet him in the food court in a half hour, then they went off, leaving Amanda and Harry to their own devices.  With there being nowhere that Harry really wanted to go, Amanda first dragged him to the bookstore, where she looked at all sorts of books, and pointed out titles that she thought Harry would enjoy.  At the music store, they had run into Kevin Edwards, who was there with his parents, and, fortunately, wouldn't cause a scene with Harry in public.  He did, however, mention that Dudley would be so excited to hear where Harry had been.  This only led him to believe that Dudley would soon be telling Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia about how Harry had been at the mall when he was supposed to be doing school work.

"Kevin is such a moron," said Amanda, as they left the music store.  "He gets on my nerves.  Doesn't he get on your nerves?"

"Sometimes," admitted Harry, sitting down on a bench next to where Amanda had already plopped herself.

"Ugh," said a voice nearby, and Harry saw a trio of girls coming their way.  They all wore black, heavy make up, and they stood in front of where Harry and Amanda were.  "What's with your friend?" the girl asked Amanda.

"What's with you?" asked Amanda.  "I don't even know you.  Harry do you know these girls?"

"No," said Harry, trying to avoid their eyes and feeling his cheeks heat up.  He would have been embarrassed about being embarrassed except for the fact that Amanda's face was already bright red.

"I just wanted to know why a kid that dresses like that and obviously doesn't bathe regularly was allowed into a mall where people actually shop?"

"Leave him alone," snapped Amanda.  "We were minding our own business.  No one was bothering you.  Why don't you just go away?"

"Is there a problem here, ladies?" asked a security guard, and the girl dressed in black grinned.

"No problem.  Not a problem at all," she said, sending a scathing glare at Amanda as she and her friends walked away.

"I hate people like that," muttered Amanda.

"She reminded me of Dudley."

"If Dudley went Gothic," she replied, snickering.  "Nikki would've kicked her arse."

"Nikki is a very outgoing person.  I know she's your friend, and I guess she's kind of mine, too, but Nikki is sort of a snob."

"You think so, too?" asked Amanda, laughing.

"You think Nikki is a snob?" asked Harry, astounded.  Amanda nodded.

"She's really nasty, too.  I'm glad she likes me, otherwise she'd be a lot meaner than she already is."

"She's mean to you?  I thought you were her best friend."

"Sometimes.  I mean, you're kind of lucky, Harry.  You don't have friends or anything, and you have Dudley beating you up all the time, but at least you don't have friends like me or Staci Bree do.  They're mean even to your face, and if they're like that when you're there, who knows what they say when you're not.  With friends like that, you don't really need goons like Dudley's gang chasing you around.  I'd never almost get pummeled if it weren't for Nikki's mouth."

"I thought you liked her."

"I do!" said Amanda, jumping up from her seat.  "It's just, sometimes I hate her.  She's mean.  Anyway, at least people are honest with you."

"I guess," muttered Harry, hanging his head.  "Would be nice to have friends, though."

"You'll have friends one day.  Dudley won't scare everyone forever, you know."

"I know."

"We've got to go meet my parents," said Amanda, checking her watch.  "Come on."

Smiling, Harry joined Amanda as they headed back in the direction they had come from.  They found the escalator, and made their way back to the food court, where Amanda's parents were already waiting.  They had ordered a pizza there ahead of time, and sat down to eat.

As they talked and laughed, Harry noticed a strange woman walking around the food court.  In fact, everyone noticed the woman, and there was chatter about her at almost every table.  She wore a bright, shocking blue from head to toe, her outfit something of a robe, and she kept muttering words like, "fascinating," as she walked around.  In her hand was a quill, something Harry had only seen in movies before, and she was writing on a heavy sort of yellow paper.

Things couldn't have gotten stranger, the lady poking at things and then taking notes on her paper, but then she spotted Harry.  Her mouth was frozen wide open, staring at Harry as he brushed his hair out of his eyes, thinking that maybe he did need that hair cut after all.  Dropping the quill and paper, she gave a small shriek, and hurried over to their table, seizing Harry's hand and shaking it.

"My name is Bertha Jorkins," she told him.  "Just doing a routine article . . . never in all my life . . . Mister Potter!" she exclaimed.  From the corner of his eye, he could see the Graves watching her, and Amanda arching an eyebrow as she looked at Harry.

"Er - hello," he said.

"Such an honor," she was mumbling, as she kept one eye on Harry to retrieve her quill and paper.  "Could I get a quote?  Anything at all?"

"Er -"

"Excuse me, miss, but who are you?" said Mr. Graves.

"Bertha Jorkins," she repeated.  "Wait until I tell everyone . . . Harry Potter!"

"Harry, do you know this woman?" asked Mrs. Graves.  Harry, slowly, shook his head.

"I've never seen her before in my life."

"Right then," said Mr. Graves, sounding angry.  "You, be gone from here before I get security."

Bertha's lips tightened into a pout, her eyes went hard, and she stared at Mr. Graves.  Brandishing her quill at him, she said, "You don't understand.  Harry Potter . . . never in all my life . . ."

"I am not going to ask you again," said Mr. Graves.  "Leave the boy alone."

Huffing, Bertha rolled up her paper, stuck her quill inside, and angled her head up to put her nose in the air as she walked away.  No longer was she interested in the things that had amazed her before, and Harry had a feeling that Mr. Graves had one more enemy.  Then again, he had one more fan as well.

"Thank you," said Harry, his voice small.  "Honestly, I don't know who she was.  I've never seen her before in my entire life."

"Not a problem, Harry," said Mr. Graves.  "You kids want ice cream?"

"Sure," said Amanda.  "Harry?"

"Yes, please.  If it's no trouble."

"No trouble at all," said Mrs. Graves.  "Randal, get me a Chocolate.  Plain."

"Mint Chocolate Chip," said Amanda.

"Vanilla," said Harry.

"So, Harry," said Mrs. Graves, glancing around nervously while her husband went for ice cream, "what are you going to be for Halloween?"

"I'm not dressing up this year," said Harry, leaving out the part that he didn't dress up any year.

"Really?  Amanda is, but she won't tell me what she's dressing up as.  Making her own costume and everything.  Very secretive."

"I even have a different one for the class party.  Nikki and I aren't unveiling our costumes until trick-or-treating."

Not long after, Mr. Graves returned with their ice creams, and Harry was soon back in their car, on the way home to the Dursleys.

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Next chapter:  Halloween.