Chapter 5: The Return of the Hag

Harry appeared outside of the Hag's house. It was a small, ugly dwelling on the outskirts of a large forest. Harry brushed off his jeans and walked solemnly up the front walk to the door. He knocked briskly. "Hello!" he called obnoxiously.

The door swung open magically of its own accord. Harry was stymied. Obviously he was dealing with somebody way out of his class. "ENTER, WENCH!" bellowed a voice from within. Harry gulped and realised that this was the hag's voice.

"No shit," he thought to himself, rolling his eyes and feeling very clever.

"Stop being a prat!" the Hag shouted at him. Evidently it could see through walls.

"I'm... I'm sorry!" Harry whimpered, his coolness dissolving.

The Hag stepped forward. As it turned out, she had been standing just beyond the doorway, but Harry, with his less-than-perfect vision, had not noticed.

"GAH!" Harry shrieked in alarm.

The Hag chuckled. "No need for you to be alarmed... yet!"

Harry quickly retorted with the previously-successful line of, "Don't make me commit nontuple homicide! You know, like killing nine people... the ninth being-"

"I know what you mean, idiot," the Hag replied, rolling her ugly hag eyes. She then turned to stare at him in horror. "You've killed eight people?"

Harry realised that he probably should not have told the hag this. "Um... maybe," he answered, glancing around furtively and looking very, very suspicious.

The Hag looked disgusted. "What the devil were you thinking, dumb ass?" she asked. "And what the bloody hell are you doing here?"

Harry looked up at her. He did not want to admit that he had hoped the Hag would offer him asylum. Harry whipped out his wand and bellowed, "Expelliarmus!" The Hag, who wasn't holding anything, raised one eyebrow at him. "Oh, shit," Harry remarked. "What I meant was, 'Avada Kedav-'"

Before he could finish, the Hag yanked his wand out of his hand and broke it in half.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Harry screamed.

The Hag slapped him quickly across the face. "It's off to Azkaban with you, you emotionally unstable lunatic," she chuckled.

Harry panicked. "Wait!" he moaned. "Please, grant me asylum!"

The Hag looked at him in disbelief. "What, after you tried to murder me?" she asked, laughing in amusement at Harry's naiveté.

Harry swallowed uncomfortably. He had forgotten about that little incident. "PLEASE!" he pleaded. "I will stay here and do slave labor for you, oh wondrous hag!"

For a split second, Harry thought that his wish would be granted. However, the Hag merely chuckled. "Nah, the reward I would merit from turning you in would buy me a hundred slaves!"

Harry did not believe her. "Bull shit," he replied. "I'm not that wanted."

Just then, an owl trailing a banner flew by. The banner read, "WANTED: THE-BOY-WHO-LIVED. REWARD: WELL, LET'S JUST SAY IT'S ENOUGH GALLEONS TO BUY 100 SLAVES." This was followed by a large picture of Harry, smiling cheekily.

Harry noticed the banner and frowned, embarrassed.

"You are an imbecile," the Hag remarked.

Another owl swooped down just then, "The Daily Prophet" in its beak.

The Hag took the paper and paid the bird. She then unfolded the paper, revealing a large headline which read, "Boy-Who-Lived Suspect in Octuple-Homicide." Below were picture of the victims, as well as of Harry, still grinning cheekily.

"Let me see that," Harry snapped.

The Hag glared at him. "Son of a bitch," she remarked. "Treat me with respect!"

"Fine," Harry mumbled. "I'm sorry, you Hag."

"Please, call me Haggis," she said kindly.

"I think this is the start of a great friendship!" said Harry eagerly.

"It is not, you fool!" the Hag retorted, handing the paper over.

Harry glanced quickly over the article. Then he saw a related piece, an interview with a girl who had arranged Harry's portkey.

"Haggis Plutarch, attendant at the Portkey Station in Derby, was reportedly threatened by the Boy-Who-Lived. Miss Plutarch managed to avoid possible death by providing Potter with a portkey per his command."

"Fuck," Harry mumbled. "Now they'll know where I am."

"However, Miss Plutarch has been unable to remember exactly where she sent Potter, as she was completely terrified at the time and has thus forgotten much of the incident as a method of overcoming the severe psychological trauma."

"Wait, never mind," Harry corrected himself. "I traumatized her too much; she's forgotten were she sent me... heheheh."

Then Harry noticed the accompanying mug shot of the girl. He sighed with longing. She was so lovely... her mousy hair hanging limply about her slender face, her large blue eyes sad and delicate...

"What's up with you?" the Hag asked.

Harry blinked a few times, enraptured. Then he said, "I am in love."

The Hag rolled her eyes. "With whom, may I ask?"

"Um..." Harry scanned the page. "Oh, yes, Haggis Plutarch... she has the same first name as you; go figure."

"Well, it is a lovely name," the Hag remarked idly. She suddenly snapped out of it and stared at Harry. "Hang on a tick, did you just say Haggis Plutarch?"

Harry checked the page again and then said, "Yeah."

"Why, that's my god-daughter!" the Hag informed him cheerfully. "She's named after me!"

"She's your god-daughter?" Harry asked, aghast at how he had threatened the Hag earlier. "And I threatened you earlier? Blimey, I'm so sorry for my behavior!" He paused for a moment and asked hopefully, "Say, now that I'm in love with your god-daughter, do you think you could grant me asylum for a while? You know, until I either leave the country or die of old age?"

The Hag wasn't really listening to the intricacies of the situation, but she was a hopeless romantic, and so she replied, "Sure."