A/N: He he, thanks to everyone who reviewed! You all rock! Oh, and Shady: No, I haven't read Barry Trotter and the Shameless Parody, but I'l try. And I actually did get Sondok's name from the Royal Diaries book. Probably should put that in the disclaimer, shouldn't I?

Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to the Harry Potter series or the Royal Diaries series. And I don't own the Jak and Daxer series for PS2 either, but I sure wish I did, and I know Shadowsister does too! Sorry for all the marchers out there that are reading this butI just have to point out it is a top of the line game.. FINE, I'll stop ranting. Here's the chappie. Enjoy!


Mary Porter and the Musician's Metronome
Chapter Three: The Hamlop


A few days later, Mrs. Turkey finally released Mary from the confines of her closet. Mary rushed downstairs for breakfast, shoveling down her stale cereal into her mouth. Just as she reached for a banana, Mr. Turkey told Diana to fetch the newspaper and the mail.

"Make Mary do it!" whined Diana.

"Make Diana do it!" said Mary, hoping Mr. Turkey would be too sleepy still to know what he was really hearing.

"Mary, get the mail!"

"Yes Uncle Vincent," Mary replied. She opened up the door to the downstairs closet and donned on an old pair of flip-flops. Mary went out the front door, and grabbed the mail and newspaper without interest. She flicked through the mail.

A few bills, a jury duty notice, ads, a magazine, a few catalogs, a letter addressed to Mary Porter, an over due library book notice, a notification letter from Diana's new Jr. High… WAIT! A letter addressed to Mary Porter? Who would write to her??

Mary set the mail and newspaper on the kitchen table and strode off, letter in hand.

"Daddy! Mary has a letter!" yelled Diana.

"WHAT?" yelled Mr. Turkey, and he sprinted out of the kitchen and body slammed Mary, who was very dazed after the blow.

"Trombone slide?" she said sub-consciously, rubbing her head. Mr. Turkey's face grew an elaborate shade of magenta and he bellowed at Mary with all his might, "NEVER SAY THAT WORD OR ANY RELATING TO IT! YOU KNOW IT IS FORBIDDEN! GO TO YOUR CLOSET!"

"Bu-but…"

"GO!"

Mary hung her head, and then snatched for the letter. Mr. Turkey swatted her hand, and tore the letter into two, and two again. He growled at her, and threw the letter into the fireplace.

She stormed up the stairs, with tears trailing down her cheeks. The only time she'd ever gotten a letter, it just was charred black ash now, nothing more. She stomped particularly hard on the top stair and slammed her closet door, collapsing onto her bed.


The next morning, Mary awoke to a low alarm. It was 7 o'clock. Perfect.

She tiptoed silently down the stairs, ever so cautiously placing her foot on the muffling carpet. Mary padded silently to the front door, and reached for the brass door knob…

A squeal from a dog broke the silent night air, and a pair of feet raced down the stairs, yelling, only to add to the noise. The dog, Foofy, Diana's Chihuahua, whined and scampered away with its tail between its legs. The beam of a flashlight followed the dog, and then suddenly snapped up in Mary's face.

Holding the flashlight was a furious Mr. Turkey. He barked at Mary to get back upstairs, and yelled at her some more once they were up them.

"FOR THE SAKE OF THE OAKLAND RAIDERS, WHAT THE HECK DO YOU THINK YOU WERE DOING? AND YOU NEARLY KILLED DIANA'S FOOFY! GET INTO BED!!"

Mary pounded her fist on her bed as Mr. Turkey dead-bolted the closet door. She was stuck here again! She moaned.

"Get to sleep!" barked Mr. Turkey from the other side of the closet door. Mary sighed, and curled up dejectedly in her blankets, expecting not to come out of her closet for the rest of the summer.


However, perhaps at ten, Mrs. Turkey pounded on the closet door.

"Get up and pack some clothes! We're traveling today!" snarled Mrs. Turkey. Mary raised an eyebrow, then pulled out a tub of baggy jeans from Diana and old, worn T-shirts with miscellaneous logos, and began to pack. She also stuffed a poster of Woodwind instruments in her bag, not being able to leave them behind.

She heard Diana whining that she couldn't bring her XBox or her birthday cake in the car. That absolute pig! thought Mary.

"But MOM, Sondok and Paige and I were going to get our nails done!! And besides, I'll miss out my four hours of video games!!" cried Diana.

"NO, pack some clothes, that's all, we're leaving!" retaliated Mrs. Turkey. Diana whimpered, but didn't reply.

Mary peeked out of the closet, clutching her backpack tightly on her shoulder. Suddenly, Diana spotted her.

"I bet this has something to do with that letter of yours, doesn't it?" growled Diana. She cracked her knuckles. Mary winced. She hated listening to bones cracking. However, Diana was slowly approaching her, ready to scratch Mary with her long, sharp nails. Mary was used to this, though, and she ducked out of the way and scampered down the stairs, giggling at Diana's stupidity.

A while later, Mr. and Mrs. Turkey joined Mary and Diana on a long car ride to several hotels. Many times, fifteen or twenty letters had already been waiting for Mary in the hotel lobby. And each time, Mary had failed to get one. And each time, Mr. Turkey drove farther, and farther. At one point, Diana asked Mrs. Turkey if her father had gone crazy. Her mother hushed her quickly as Mr. Turkey returned to the car from yet another inn. He simply said two words: "More letters."


After a complete twenty-four hours of non-stop travel, Mr. Turkey pulled up to the edge of a black lake. It was tranquil and deadly silent outside, and Mr. Turkey disappeared from Mary's view in a few seconds.

A half hour passed, with no conversation. Finally, Mr. Turkey returned and beckoned the three to come. An old, insane man with gray hair and a hoarse laugh rowed the four to an island of rock with a shaky hut on it, his oars slicing the water like glass.

Mr. Turkey nodded, and opened the rickety door, while Mrs. Turkey held a crate-full of chips, crackers, and trail mix. They ate the supplies in silence, and then were sent to bed. Diana slept on the couch, Mr. and Mrs. Turkey slept on a Queen bed. Mary got the dusty floor.

She shivered and pulled her legs up to her chest. Mary could not handle having no blankets. She glanced at Diana, then saw Diana's watch: it was the twenty-ninth of July!

Mary had forgotten her birthday! Not that it was any major event, but still, she'd be eleven on the thirtieth, which was in less than two minutes. She drew a single candle on the floor, and blew on it just as Diana's watch turned midnight. Mary chocked on some of the excess dirt caught in her lungs from the floor, and gagged as a pound on the door shook the hut.

Mr. Turkey came out with a shotgun, and then looked at Mary curiously as her face turned blue. Mrs. Turkey slapped her on the back to get her to stop choking as the door burst open, and a seven-foot man roared at the top of his lungs.

"GET YER GRIMEE LIL' 'ANDS AWAY FROM 'ARY!!" he shouted, and whacked Mrs. Turkey over the head with a rifle covered in white tape. She fell onto the floor, unconscious.

"WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER?" screamed Mr. Turkey as he aimed the shotgun at the stranger.

"I KNOCKED 'ER OVER DA HEAD, YA STUPID IDIOT!" The seven-foot man brought up his rifle, and drew a saber, also covered in white tape.

"Drop your weapons, intruder, and maybe I won't hurt you," said Mr. Turkey.

"I very well think not!" yelled the man, and he twirled the saber and the rifle at the same time. He tossed them both in the air. The rifle and the saber spun straight at the shotgun, and knocked it out of Mr. Turkey's hands.

But the stranger wasn't finished yet; he withdrew a six-foot metal pole with a white flag attached to it and started moving his feet in place, spinning the flag in front of him.

"DROPSPIN!" yelled the man, and a gust of wind blew Diana, Mr. Turkey, and Mrs. Turkey back into the Turkey's room. The stranger yelled, "PIZZA!" He spun the flag over his head, and hurled it at the door to the bedroom, jamming it shut.

The man retrieved the flag and the rifle and saber. Mary shivered.

"Don't be afraid, lil' one. Name's Hagrid. And ya must be 'ary, right?" asked Hagrid.

Mary nodded in disbelief; first, she'd turned eleven, then nearly died of choking on dirt, and now this giant man with a flag knew her name.

"Oh, nearly fergot, 'ere's yer letter." Hagrid handed Mary the letter that she'd been longing to get.

She opened the envelope, puzzled by the contents. A flat black disk, nothing else. Then, it began to twirl, and a holographic screen appeared. Music played in the background, and an automated voice read the letter in front of her eyes.

"BONESLIDES SCHOOL OF MUSIC AND MARCHING PRESENTS!" said the voice rather loudly, "A MESSAGE APPROVED BY HEADMASTER DYNAMIDORE (ORDER OF MOZART FIRST CLASS, GRAND SAXOPHONIST, CHIEF CONDUCTOR, SUPREME MARCHER, INTERNATIONAL CONFEDERATION OF MUSICIANS)!"

A dramatic moment of silence reigned, and the voice continued.

"A LETTER OF ACCEPTANCE FOR MS. MARY PORTER!!!!" it screeched. Then, another softer, more humane, feminine voice spoke.

"Dear Ms. Porter," started the voice.

"Congratulations! You have been selected to attend Boneslides School of Music and Marching. Term starts September first. Take the Sliding Express on September the first from Queen's Moss Station in San Francisco. We hope to see you at Boneslides, and have a nice rest of the summer. Your Band Director, Mrs. Marisa McGraveh: Band Director and Deputy Headmistress of Boneslides."

The disk stopped spinning and landed gently back in Mary's hand. Her eyes were wide open.

"I've never seen such technology!" she exclaimed.

"Well, tha's the special thing with musicians and color guard, see? We're all much farther advanced than the Footiefans." Hagrid observed Mary's look of confusion, and then explained himself.

"Er, righ', Footiefans are football fans. Er, non-musical people, if ya get what I'm getting' at."

Mary nodded, though still confused.

"Righ', so, the technology! Yah, 'tis great! Took a bunch of highly trained Musical Theoreticians and Scientists ter come up wi' tha' one! It captures the sound waves from the speaker, but normally tha's not enough. So, we add music in the background, an' the sound waves are forte enough to be heard an' properly recorded. The frequency has to be constant enough, though, otherwise, 'tis a dud hamlop. Er, I mean a Holographic and Musical Letter or Post. A Hamlop," Hagrid explained.

"Right, I guess I get the science behind that, but what in the world is Boneslides School?" asked Mary.

Hagrid stared at her like she had two heads.

"Ya mean no one ever told ya? You're a Band Geek, Mary!"


Oh, big surprise there! Be sure to review! And I do reccommend the Jak and Daxter series for anyone and everyone! FINE, I'LL BE QUIET! R&R!