Don't own Voldemort
I wish I owned the
Style of writing
Can't claim
Lemony Snicket's ideas for the plot
And Quiddich
Isn't
Mine
Either
Remis Lupin, the writer, doesn't belong to me
READ and REVIEW!!!
Chapter three
BEFORE YOU CONTINUE THIS STORY YOU MUST KNOW THAT I GOT MY BRACES OFF AND I AM JUMPING FOR JOY
I wish I could say that the children were looking a gift horse in the mouth when they examined Voldemort's house with distaste, but the fact was that Lord Voldemort's house was no gift. I wish I could tell you the children were just being stubborn and spoiled when they couldn't settle into the one bedroom Lord Voldemort gave to them, but in truth, they were being wonderfully well-mannered. It was their whole situation that was the problem, not their attitudes toward the situation.
To help you to better understand what the Potters were going through, I will now describe their room. For those who do not like to listen to depressing, discouraging descriptions, please rip this page out of the book.
Their bedroom contained one bed, and even that was too small for them, so their feet would hang over the edge. The bed was missing one of its legs, causing it to tilt uncomfortably to one side. The mattress was very lumpy, even more so then the floor. The children took turns sleeping in the bed, though they couldn't decide if the floor or the bed was more unpleasant. The two orphans who slept on the floor would use the curtains for sheets. Unfortunately, the curtains were full of holes and covered with ugly patterns of weeds and dead flowers.
Voldemort had been so kind as to provide a stick for each of the children to play with, if they ever got bored of sitting and staring at the wall. Of course, they never had time to be bored because every morning they awoke to Voldemort's voice telling them the chores they had to do each day. Apparently Lord Voldemort was a good enough wizard to be able to jinx a tape recorder into playing back everything he said into it each morning. This meant they would have to listen to his scratchy voice everyone morning, snickering as it named chore after chore.
The day before, the chores had been to paint the roof of the house with a hideous can of barf-green paint, and to mop the kitchen floor. Because there was no paintbrush, Hermione had to use her wand and change a sock into a paint brush. Harry found a broom in a closet that looked a lot cleaner than the actual house. He supposed that Lord Voldemort had never thought to actually clean his own house. The oldest Potter flew onto the roof with the broomstick and began painting.
Ron took charge of the mopping. He used his logic skills, honed by playing so much chess, to help him make sure he didn't mop himself into a corner, and then have to step on what was already clean. Hermione bewitched the mop so that it never ran out of water.
The following day, the orphans listened to Lord Voldemort's voice, and it told them to "Prepare dinner for my theater troupe tonight. Make sure you provide dessert as well. The money is in the kitchen cupboard. I'm sure you brats can figure out how to open it. If you can't, that's not my problem!"
They found the kitchen cupboard, and realized, to their consternation, which here means dismay, that it was locked. But Hermione took her wand, clearly said "allohamora," and the door swung open, to reveal one galleon and two sickles.
"That won't buy much." Ron pointed out sadly.
"We don't know how to cook, anyway." Harry said.
"Wel,." Hermione grinned proudly, "I know how to bewitch something to cook."
"But you need a recipe," Harry sighed. "You can't just say 'Oven, cook!'"
"And I need ingredients," Hermione added. "I guess we'll have to go Diagon Alley. But where to get a recipe?"
They looked everywhere for a recipe book, except of course for the cellar. Lord Voldemort had warned them never to go there. It was in the ground in back of the house, with a metal grate that opened up into it. It looked very dirty, and the Potters didn't think they'd ever want to get in anyway. They were wrong about this, of course. Soon, Harry would risk his life to get down there. But they didn't know that, only I have the unfortunate knowledge of how this story will go.
When they could find no cookbook, they all gathered in the kitchen again. "Let's visit Madam Hooch," Ron suggested. "She might have one."
"All right," Hermione agreed. "She was such a nice lady."
They walked across the street to her house, glad to get away from all the pictures and images of skulls in their relative's house. Harry rang the doorbell, and after a few minutes, Madam Hooch answered it.
"Why hello, children," she greeted them. "Come in, come in. What can I do for you?" The orphans stepped into her lovely house. They felt guilty about bringing their dirty shoes into such a clean home, so they carefully wiped their feet first. Hermione wished she could take a shower.
"Lord Voldemort wants us to make dinner for him and his theater troupe, but we don't have a cookbook." Ron explained.
"My, my." the nice lady shook her head. "He wants children to prepare his dinner? That seems like a lot of work."
"We're used to it." Hermione said. She didn't add that they were used to it because Lord Voldemort worked them like slaves.
"Come up to my library," Madam Hooch said. "I'll see what I can find."
Now there are many kinds of libraries, and the orphans would see many of these types in their lives. There are public libraries, School libraries, and ancient Greek libraries. There are secret libraries, Informational libraries, and even libraries that are dismal enough to carry tragic stories such as this one. I have even, in my lifetime, come across an Orderly Territorial Population library. But the one the children were in was a private library. It was similar to the one that was now bits of charred rubble in the remains of the Potter mansion. The children were delighted and awed by the beauty and pleasantness of Madam Hooch's library. It had nice squishy chairs and rows and rows of books.
"The cookbooks are over here," Madam Hooch said, showing them to a special section of a blue bookshelf. "Would you like something simple, perhaps? How much money do you have to spend?"
"Only two sickles and a galleon." Ron showed her the money in his pocket.
"Hmmmmm." Madam Hooch frowned. "Let's try something without meat. That's usually cheaper."
After looking through two books, they found a Muggle recipe entitled Macaroni and Cheese.
"Sounds interesting." Harry commented.
"Sounds easy." Hermione approved.
"Sounds cheap." Ron agreed.
The Potters all nodded. They had decided. If only, the Potters thought, life was as straight forward and easy as this recipe. And if only it could come out with the same delicious, a word which here means not terribly unfortunate, result.
REVIEWERS-
C'est pas une flame- I had to ask my mom what your pen name meant. She knows a lot of French. Are you French, or do you just like French? I'm glad you liked my story.
Visualpurple- I'm sooooooo happy I got my braces off! I'm going to explode! My teeth feel so slimy and freeee! Glorious freedom! No more brace-face, metal-mouth or tin-grin for me! I still want you to write a story of your own. You neeeeeeeeeeeeed to. I'll review it, I promise. Just make something up. Pick a random situation and stick Harry Potter or Lemony Snicket characters in it.
Dweem-angel- I have plans for Hagrid. Hee hee. But it's actually not until the Reptile Room. I'm planning on continuing doing this for most of the Snicket series, but it might take a loooong time. Remus is already in it, silly! He's Lemony! And his love (Beatrice) is a lady I made up named Aries. I got the idea because Remus is a star and Aries is a constellation. I also like the name Aries. Dumbledore..... hmmmmmm...I'll think about him. Yes, I'm going to have fun with Voldemort's henchmen.
READ AND REVIEW!!
I wish I owned the
Style of writing
Can't claim
Lemony Snicket's ideas for the plot
And Quiddich
Isn't
Mine
Either
Remis Lupin, the writer, doesn't belong to me
READ and REVIEW!!!
Chapter three
BEFORE YOU CONTINUE THIS STORY YOU MUST KNOW THAT I GOT MY BRACES OFF AND I AM JUMPING FOR JOY
I wish I could say that the children were looking a gift horse in the mouth when they examined Voldemort's house with distaste, but the fact was that Lord Voldemort's house was no gift. I wish I could tell you the children were just being stubborn and spoiled when they couldn't settle into the one bedroom Lord Voldemort gave to them, but in truth, they were being wonderfully well-mannered. It was their whole situation that was the problem, not their attitudes toward the situation.
To help you to better understand what the Potters were going through, I will now describe their room. For those who do not like to listen to depressing, discouraging descriptions, please rip this page out of the book.
Their bedroom contained one bed, and even that was too small for them, so their feet would hang over the edge. The bed was missing one of its legs, causing it to tilt uncomfortably to one side. The mattress was very lumpy, even more so then the floor. The children took turns sleeping in the bed, though they couldn't decide if the floor or the bed was more unpleasant. The two orphans who slept on the floor would use the curtains for sheets. Unfortunately, the curtains were full of holes and covered with ugly patterns of weeds and dead flowers.
Voldemort had been so kind as to provide a stick for each of the children to play with, if they ever got bored of sitting and staring at the wall. Of course, they never had time to be bored because every morning they awoke to Voldemort's voice telling them the chores they had to do each day. Apparently Lord Voldemort was a good enough wizard to be able to jinx a tape recorder into playing back everything he said into it each morning. This meant they would have to listen to his scratchy voice everyone morning, snickering as it named chore after chore.
The day before, the chores had been to paint the roof of the house with a hideous can of barf-green paint, and to mop the kitchen floor. Because there was no paintbrush, Hermione had to use her wand and change a sock into a paint brush. Harry found a broom in a closet that looked a lot cleaner than the actual house. He supposed that Lord Voldemort had never thought to actually clean his own house. The oldest Potter flew onto the roof with the broomstick and began painting.
Ron took charge of the mopping. He used his logic skills, honed by playing so much chess, to help him make sure he didn't mop himself into a corner, and then have to step on what was already clean. Hermione bewitched the mop so that it never ran out of water.
The following day, the orphans listened to Lord Voldemort's voice, and it told them to "Prepare dinner for my theater troupe tonight. Make sure you provide dessert as well. The money is in the kitchen cupboard. I'm sure you brats can figure out how to open it. If you can't, that's not my problem!"
They found the kitchen cupboard, and realized, to their consternation, which here means dismay, that it was locked. But Hermione took her wand, clearly said "allohamora," and the door swung open, to reveal one galleon and two sickles.
"That won't buy much." Ron pointed out sadly.
"We don't know how to cook, anyway." Harry said.
"Wel,." Hermione grinned proudly, "I know how to bewitch something to cook."
"But you need a recipe," Harry sighed. "You can't just say 'Oven, cook!'"
"And I need ingredients," Hermione added. "I guess we'll have to go Diagon Alley. But where to get a recipe?"
They looked everywhere for a recipe book, except of course for the cellar. Lord Voldemort had warned them never to go there. It was in the ground in back of the house, with a metal grate that opened up into it. It looked very dirty, and the Potters didn't think they'd ever want to get in anyway. They were wrong about this, of course. Soon, Harry would risk his life to get down there. But they didn't know that, only I have the unfortunate knowledge of how this story will go.
When they could find no cookbook, they all gathered in the kitchen again. "Let's visit Madam Hooch," Ron suggested. "She might have one."
"All right," Hermione agreed. "She was such a nice lady."
They walked across the street to her house, glad to get away from all the pictures and images of skulls in their relative's house. Harry rang the doorbell, and after a few minutes, Madam Hooch answered it.
"Why hello, children," she greeted them. "Come in, come in. What can I do for you?" The orphans stepped into her lovely house. They felt guilty about bringing their dirty shoes into such a clean home, so they carefully wiped their feet first. Hermione wished she could take a shower.
"Lord Voldemort wants us to make dinner for him and his theater troupe, but we don't have a cookbook." Ron explained.
"My, my." the nice lady shook her head. "He wants children to prepare his dinner? That seems like a lot of work."
"We're used to it." Hermione said. She didn't add that they were used to it because Lord Voldemort worked them like slaves.
"Come up to my library," Madam Hooch said. "I'll see what I can find."
Now there are many kinds of libraries, and the orphans would see many of these types in their lives. There are public libraries, School libraries, and ancient Greek libraries. There are secret libraries, Informational libraries, and even libraries that are dismal enough to carry tragic stories such as this one. I have even, in my lifetime, come across an Orderly Territorial Population library. But the one the children were in was a private library. It was similar to the one that was now bits of charred rubble in the remains of the Potter mansion. The children were delighted and awed by the beauty and pleasantness of Madam Hooch's library. It had nice squishy chairs and rows and rows of books.
"The cookbooks are over here," Madam Hooch said, showing them to a special section of a blue bookshelf. "Would you like something simple, perhaps? How much money do you have to spend?"
"Only two sickles and a galleon." Ron showed her the money in his pocket.
"Hmmmmm." Madam Hooch frowned. "Let's try something without meat. That's usually cheaper."
After looking through two books, they found a Muggle recipe entitled Macaroni and Cheese.
"Sounds interesting." Harry commented.
"Sounds easy." Hermione approved.
"Sounds cheap." Ron agreed.
The Potters all nodded. They had decided. If only, the Potters thought, life was as straight forward and easy as this recipe. And if only it could come out with the same delicious, a word which here means not terribly unfortunate, result.
REVIEWERS-
C'est pas une flame- I had to ask my mom what your pen name meant. She knows a lot of French. Are you French, or do you just like French? I'm glad you liked my story.
Visualpurple- I'm sooooooo happy I got my braces off! I'm going to explode! My teeth feel so slimy and freeee! Glorious freedom! No more brace-face, metal-mouth or tin-grin for me! I still want you to write a story of your own. You neeeeeeeeeeeeed to. I'll review it, I promise. Just make something up. Pick a random situation and stick Harry Potter or Lemony Snicket characters in it.
Dweem-angel- I have plans for Hagrid. Hee hee. But it's actually not until the Reptile Room. I'm planning on continuing doing this for most of the Snicket series, but it might take a loooong time. Remus is already in it, silly! He's Lemony! And his love (Beatrice) is a lady I made up named Aries. I got the idea because Remus is a star and Aries is a constellation. I also like the name Aries. Dumbledore..... hmmmmmm...I'll think about him. Yes, I'm going to have fun with Voldemort's henchmen.
READ AND REVIEW!!