This is a strech, but I'll write it anyway. This is not really funny at all, so be warned. Did you know that Petunia might have arcanophobia, or a fear of magic?
CHAPTER THREE
Alektorophobia- Fear of chickens
This is a strech.
When I was young, all the children at my primary school called me chicken. I'm not chicken; I'm simply not stupid.
I was, at one time, Head of Slytherin. Don't come to us for bravery. Come to us for cunning.
I'm not a coward, and I don't like be called one.
It shouldn't bother me what one stupid teenager thinks of me; yet it does.
I've known Harry Potter for years, and he never was very bright. I'm not altogether suprised that he came to the wrong conclusion. I'll admit it must have looked extremely bad: Dumbledore, near death from drinking that poison, surrounded by Death Eaters, and I blast him off the tower.
I never could have killed Dumbledore. If I'm intelligent enough to invent my own spells at the age of sixteen, I'm intelligent enough to relise that killing Dumbledore would have extremely serious consquences.
I'm not a chicken, I am smart enough to keep myself alive in this deadly charades I've been thrust into.
Harry Potter should realize this.
Yet he is too blinded by his dislike of myself (not without reason, I'll grant you) to do so. And being the only witness to the events atop the Astronomy Tower, when he presents his verison of the events to the rest of the Order of the Pheniox, they will have no reason to disbelieve him.
I don't care for chickens, their feathers and clucking tends to bother me. I don't apperciate being called one.
I am intelligent enough to regonize my own fears, and yet not let them rule my life, especially if they are unreasonable.
I have no real reason to fear chickens, yet I do.
In a situation this delicate, I can't afford any unreasonable fears.
But I will not be called a chicken.
