: I'm scared of Lawyers . . .
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I was in a grand castle; the castle my mother had told me stories about was I was younger. I was on top of the tallest tower and the wind was gently blowing my brunette hair around my relaxed face. "It's so beautiful," I whispered softly.
On the ground I looked at a peaceful tree that was looking over a calm lake, the wind was making ripples on the clear water as a leaf floated by.
I was about to turn to leave the tower when I saw something. An owl, as white as snow flying as one with the air. She flew to me and landed on the brick wall I was leaning against. She looked at me with soft amber eyes and hooted friendly.
I reach out to touch her soft feathers and take
"Come on Abigail," mother sighed. "Let's pack your things." I was daydreaming again. It seemed to happen all the time to me when I wasn't careful.
Mother could always tell when I was flying over clouds or fighting dragons or even just talking to a friendly fairy. Whenever she saw this, she would let me stay in my dream word, except when there was work to be done that could not wait.
Mother would say that she wished she could go with me to a far away land and do wonderful things with me there, but unfortunately her time for magic was over. I knew she envied me, and in a way it was sad.
I looked around in my room, there were clothes all over the floor. Paper that had drawings and paintings on them flooded my desk in the far corner of the room, and I dared not look in the closet.
"It's going to take forever to clean this up!" I thought as I looked at the war zone that was my room. Fortunately I was wrong, it didn't take as long as I thought it would to clean up and pack my belonging into boxes. In a way it was like magic.
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Two day's later, we, that meaning mother and I, packed the moving truck with our lives. "It's weird how people can become so attached to things,"I thought sadly.
We traveled on the road for what seemed like an eternity. I leaned on, and stared, out the side window of the car, wondering what my life was going to be like when we got to wherever it was we were going.
We passed cities, countryside's and small villages; none of which looked familiar to me. I wanted this long, miserable trip to end.
I was flying on a broomstick high up in the air, trying to catch a golden bird. There were other teens my age flying as well. They were wearing strange clothes, some teens wore maroon and other teens wore green. The golden bird was so close, I reached out my hand and
"Well, here we are!" Father said happily. I opened my eyes and looked out the car widow, only to see the most boring looking street known to man.
All of the houses looked the same. The lawns looked the same. Even there cars looked the same. Because they all had one thing in common: They were all clean.
I looked and saw a sign that read: Privet Drive.
" Wow! This looks so exiting! " I said sarcastically. My insolence won me a smack in the back of the head.
I walked up the driveway and into the house that would be our new home, leaving father and mother behind me as they talked about how they were going to unpack the truck. I looked around the house and there was only one word I could use to describe it: Boring.
The carpet was boring, the kitchen was boring, the wallpaper was boring, the living room was boring. Everything looked so boring I felt like turning back to the boring door and run all the way back home; but then I remembered that I would never make it back to my old house, and that I just needed to deal with it.
"So what do you think?" Father asked me. He and mother stepped inside holding a box each.
"Lovely."
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I had just finished putting boxes full of my things in my new boring, white room, when there was a loud knock at the front door.
"Why they didn't ring the ruddy doorbell, I will never know," I grumbled to myself, I was still in a very bad mood. br /
Ding-dong! The doorbell made in its boring tune.
I walked down the stairs and opened the white front door to see who the visitor was. I held back my laughter as best I could when I saw the scene in front of me.
There was a man with almost no neck and had a mustache that looked like a hairy caterpillar on his upper lip. He was with a blonde woman with horse teeth, that was so skinny and strict looking it bothered me; and a boy about my age that looked like he ate a fat killer whale for breakfast.
"May I help you?" I asked, holding back my laughter with some difficulty.
"Yes, we just wanted to welcome you to Privet Drive," said the horse-toothed woman in an oddly sweet voice that didn't match her looks at all.
"Oh, please do come in," I said surprised, gesturing the strange family into my house.
"My father and mother are not here right now," I explained leading them into the living room. "They went to the store to get food for dinner."
The weird family sat down in the living room and made themselves look right at home. The fat boy that looked about my age had to sit by himself in the loveseat, as there wasn't enough room on the couch with his parents or in a chair. I was going to go make some tea for my guests, but the tea was still in one of the endless boxes in the kitchen. So I just took a seat in one of the overstuffed chairs.
"Umm," I started. I looked at the family and realized I had no idea who they were. I didn't know how to ask them without being rude so I did the only thing that came to mind. "My name is Abigail Elfwood . . . and you are?"
"I am Mrs. Petunia Dursley," the skinny woman said. "And this is my husband Vernon, and my son Dudley."
Her legs were crossed in a very ladylike manner, and I became very self-conscious at the unladylike way I was sitting. I quickly sat up strait and crossed my legs with an embarrassed air, smiling a little at the way the three of them looked at me. They were obviously a very proper family.
I quickly learned allot about the Dursley family from that one visit.
Mr. Dursley had a business that made drills, (Grumbles or something like that,) and didn't like anything out of the ordinary. I also learned that when he got angry, a vein in his forehead would look like it would pop and spray the room.
Mrs. Dursley liked gossiping more then anyone I had ever met. I learned at least one bad thing about everyone that lived at Privet Drive from her, and also that she never missed any celebrity story she could get her hands on. I also saw her hands twitch as she eyed the dusty house.
Dudley Dursley was a big bully, (they didn't tell me this of course,) and was going to be a big boxing star, (as his father put it.) I hoped I wouldn't be stuck at the same school as him. I made a mental note to talk to mother about it.
After the Dursley's left, I felt so relieved to shut the door behind them, but the i fun /i wasn't over.
i Ding-dong/i
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I had had so many guests come over to welcome me to Privet Drive, that by the end of the day I felt like going to bed and have a nice long sleep and never wake up again.
Not one of the guests really had anything good to say. They all told me about life at Privet Drive; boring might I add, and about the people that lived there. The only person that I thought I might like to meet was a woman mentioned by the name of Mrs. Figg, though I didn't like cats that much.
The only thing that really got my interest was when Mrs. Piers told me that I was a pretty girl and needed to be careful.
"Careful of what?" I asked. I had been daydreaming about making a teacup grow legs and walk on the table I was sitting at, but this statement brought me out of my dream world.
"Of the Potter boy," Mrs. Piers said. "He's the Dursley's nephew."
"But the Dursley's were just here, and they didn't have a Potter with them," I said confused.
I didn't understand."Why would they not bring their nephew with them?" I thought. "Well, maybe he didn't want to be with the Dursley's. I know I wouldn't want to!"
"That's because he's a troublemaker. Always causing problems," Mrs. Piers said.
"How does he cause problems?" I asked curious of this boy.
"Well this summer he wondered around the streets," she said this as if this Potter boy killed her pet cat.
"Is that all?" I thought this conversation to be quite funny, the way Mrs. Piers was talking about this boy.
" Is that all?" Mrs. Piers gasped. "Of course not! About three years ago the Dursley's had the Mason's come for dinner—There a very wealthy couple—" Mrs. Piers added quickly. "Well anyway, they were having dinner and having a very nice time when . . ."
"What?" I asked, leaning on the edge of my seat.
"He threw the pudding on top of Mrs. Mason's head!" Mrs. Piers squeaked, her eyes were wide and become teary.
I had tried to hold it back, I really did, but I couldn't. The thought of throwing pudding on top of some rich snob's head sounded like something I wished I could do. I laughed so hard my stomach hurt, I couldn't help but feel proud of this Potter boy.
I stopped laughing and gained my composure as best I could. "Oh, I mean . . . that's awful!" I said shaking my head, tears rolling down my cheeks.
Mrs. Piers didn't fall for my act for one second. "Well it's fine now. He's at a school that's beating the trouble out of him," Mrs. Piers said with a smile.
"Oh, that's good," I said.
But I didn't think it was good at all . . .
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