Disclaimer part: You know the drill.
Harry rinsed the last dish and placing it carelessly onto the drying rack. "Good. Now you can-" Aunt Petunia started.
"Nope, sorry. Can't." Harry stated simply, hurrying past Petunia brashly and ducking out into the hall without sending her so much as a second glance. He leapt the stairs three at a time, meeting Dudley in the landing.
"Hey what're you-" Dudley snapped. Harry shoved is cousin out of the way and continued sprinting back to his room. He threw open the door, shuffled inside and slammed the door shut again behind him. He resisted the urge to charm a couple of locks onto it, knowing that his relationship with the Improper Use of Magic office was still strenuous at best. Even if Umbridge had sent Dementors after him and Dobby had been accepted as responsible for his earlier misdemeanour, they continued to regard him with a less-than-enthusiastic air. And he couldn't honestly blame them, really.
He collapsed into the chair at his desk with a fairly audible 'thud', and dragged his father's diary over to him. He scanned the pages and quickly resumed reading…
- - -
Quidditch Journal
Entry 8
July 20th
Dear thing,
I AM GOING TO KILL DUANE MCLAGGEN!
That stupid, idiotic, block-headed dolt! Who the hell does he think he is? He's declared war. Can you believe that? Duane McLaggen, the thickest gimp the world has ever known, has declared war on me.
Okay. I'm calming down. I'll explain what happened. But first of all you should understand that I am writing this late at night, in the Medi-Hut where the kids in my cabin are currently sleeping off the effects of some rather strong Babbling Beverages that left them gibbering fools for the better part of the night. (On the up side I found out that Sofia isn't mute and actually knows an impressive selection of both English and Bulgarian swear words.)
This morning I got up and found McLaggen waiting for me outside my cabin. He wanted to talk about the growing rivalry between our two cabins. Or so he said. I agreed (grudgingly, might I add) and went outside with him. He then turns around and tells me that I'd better watch my back because he "knows what I'm up to" and that if I didn't cut it out we "were going to have a problem". Do you believe that? HE tells ME to watch myself? Doesn't he realise who he's talking to here? And then to threaten me… Merlin, how dumb can you be? Does he honestly think I'm going to take that crap from the likes of him?
Well apparently he did because as soon as he was finished saying it he sauntered off without waiting for a response. Not that I could have responded mind you: I was either gaping at thin air or laughing too hard to really think of a comeback. However that's not the point. No, the point is that when I went back into my cabin I found three of my kids with lime green hair. They didn't manage to get Sofia. Though that may have been because she had one of McLaggen's kids pinned against the wall by his throat while Iggy, Albert and Ping were yelling "Kill, kill, kill!"
Now I was going to let it go. Really, I was. I was going to tell Sofia to put the boy down and let him go back to his cabin with the message that I knew what he was doing and that I wasn't interested in a full scale war with him over this… then that little runt hit Sofia. He just reared back and decked her I got rid of the bruise, no problem (thereby increasing Iggy's view of me as some great healer I suppose). However the fact remains that you don't hit girls. You especially don't hit girls half your size.
I grabbed the little tosser by the back of the neck and dragged him outside, apparently forgetting that my wand even existed. I can't remember the exact message I gave the kid to give to McLaggen however I do remember that it had quite a few explicit suggestions for him mixed in there, along with several turns of phrase that no child should really hear… And there may have been a goat involved somewhere, I'm not really sure. ANYWAY ,I do believe that McLaggen will have caught my gist.
And once I turned all my kids' hair back to its original colour, I filled them in. I suppose you can't help but admire how gung-ho they were about the whole thing, seeing as how there are only four of them vs. six of the McLaggen cabin kids. And the McLaggen kids are, to a man, larger and stronger than them. Which is a huge deal when you're still in single digits and unable to do any magic whatsoever. Well… any planned magic, I suppose.
So we all went to breakfast. Looking cheerful as ever, you know, like nothing happened and we couldn't care less. It was immediately obvious (to me anyway) that everyone knew about it, but there was no point in making a scene. So we sat down, had breakfast, glared across the room at the McLaggen camp and then went for a day's flying.
I would like to say at this point that I am more than prepared to keep a vendetta alive for decades if need be, and feel absolutely no twinges of conscious for doing so. But even I have scruples. One of those scruples is that, if I were teaching a kid to fly and he fell off his broom, I would attempt to catch him regardless of the kid's place in said feud. That just strikes me as a given.
But no.
When Ping fell off his broom directly in front of McLaggen he didn't do anything. The stupid prick didn't even blink. I had to cast an Impediment Jinx on Ping from across the compound to stop him being seriously hurt. What sort of inconsiderate, cold-hearted bastard DOES that? The kid is eight years old for crying out loud! And his only crime was being associated with me. That was it, nothing else. He's in my cabin ergo, McLaggen doesn't care. What a prat. I was going to get him good just for that. But it doesn't stop there.
Most of the day passed with very little activity, just a few glares. Then Iggy went missing. I don't even know how that happened. We were all practising by our cabin and I was trying to teach Albert how to hold a beater's bat and maintain balance at the same time. I looked around and Iggy was gone.
He turned up an hour later, stripped down to his underwear and standing in the kitchens. If Ping hadn't been intelligent enough to point out that the entrance to the kitchens was hidden from view then none of us would have looked there and he would've been found by the cooks.
Then we went to dinner. I was, at this point, merely planning battle strategies and trying to calm Ping and Iggy down. Which is when we discovered the Babbling Beverages in out food. Or at least the kids did. I wasn't eating, I was trying to decide whether Evans would send me a couple of potions if I asked nicely and said it was for McLaggen.
They started babbling (duh) and then they start panicking. Panicked young children under the influences of Babbling Beverages is not a good thing. They start screaming about teddy bears and boogie men: It's not pleasant. I practically had to drag the four of them to the Medi-Hut. What's even more irritating is that McLaggen had obviously planned this from yesterday and only mentioned it today. I, at least, give my victims a bit of warning before striking. You know, some time to brace themselves and maybe come up with a defence or two. It's only sporting.
So that's it. No holds barred. It's war. I've cancelled all my other letters to everyone (including that one to Evans that took four hours to write) and I am now demanding reinforcements from everyone who can help.
Mum and Dad won't be contacted I don't think. Anything they know about this will only lead to punishments in the future and, frankly, I have a battle to plan and therefore no time for such things. Remus, Sirius and perhaps Evans will all be valuable. Hagrid will have recommendations. Wormtail will… offer words of encouragement. That idiot is going to suffer for this.
Oh an by the way, we're going to kick his arse at Quidditch too.
- - -
Harry cringed.
Surely it wouldn't be that bad. Whatever happened would have almost positively been mentioned to him at some point if it had been as bad as James was implying it would be… wouldn't they?
Trying to convince himself of that fact, Harry turned the page…
- - -
Quidditch Journal
Entry 8
July 20th
Dear Thing,
There's good news and bad news. The first thing is that I made McLaggen cry. The second thing is that I wasn't really trying very hard, and so I therefore fear that what he's got in store over the next few weeks will irreparably damage him.
I'm not sure which one of those is the good news and which one of those is the bad news. Maybe it's just news. Who knows? The point is that it was easy. All I did was interrupt his little story this morning about how outstanding he was in classes with Sirius's little story about him in his Transfiguration OWL. Then Amy, Arvid and one or two other people made fun of him and he completely over-reacted and then ran screaming out of the room.
He's been a no-show all day since that little episode at breakfast so I can only assume he's plotting something sinister. Not that I care.
I'm saving all the good stuff for post-Thursday warfare after I've got contact with my patrons back home.
Meanwhile, I got Albert practising with Bludgers. He still won't go on a broomstick mind you but hey, progress is progress. Ping is getting healthier and Iggy is becoming more and more confident of my non-existent medical knowledge. My only problem is Sofia. She's run out of books and is now just glaring. She started talking at least, if that's what you call the fifteen second conversations we've had. Most of them go something like "Hello" "Hello" "Are you all right?" nod "You've stopped babbling I see?" nod "Would you like me to shut up and go away now?" nod
Merlin, I don't know what I'm supposed to do. And my normal default position when I don't know what to do is either to ask Sirius (which I've already done) or plan pranks. So I'm off to do that now. Circe knows it's more fun that this.
- - -
Harry skimmed over the next few pages. Nothing was written out properly, it was just notes and diagrams. In fact the next real entry didn't appear for six pages.
What worried him slightly was the fact that several diagrams included a small stick-figure with no noticeable neck and quite obviously blacked out eyes…
Remember: Anyone has anything they want done to McLaggen, email me -wink-. Or James I suppose if you really hate him for some reason. But I doubt you'd be reading this if you really hated James. I'll be putting both of them through quite a lot anyway but hey, a little more gas on the flame never hurt anybody, right? Right? -kicks audience- RIGHT! Okay, good.