A/N: Yes, I'm back again. I hope you guys liked my first chapter, but anyway, please REVIEW!! Thanks. If there's one thing I appreciate it is reviews. Right, I am
going to write in each of the person's view, but it's going to be past tense, so don't get mixed up, yeah? Alright. I notice I'm one of the few to write a Charlie story,
but never mind. Okay, back to the story, since I've nothing much to say now, just that I hope you will review. (Actually, the word 'review' sounds funny now, the
way a word always does after you say it for a number of times, don't you think?)
And, thanks to Do you know Emily Davison, I decided to bold my author's note. Tell me if it is better, thanks! Well, I hope I can publish this by today (12th
November 2006) because I'm currently extremely harried, preparing for my piano solo recital, so please bear with me if I don't publish in time! Back to the story
then! Oh, and for this chapter, some of the details are…ahem…vivid, so if you feel squeamish about descriptive details in the loo, please, skip the chapter and ask
me to give you a summary on the review page. And, I'm sorry if I offend any Greeks here, but I just needed a place, it could have been any
other country, I do not mean to offend.
Chapter 2: Constant Escapade
Laurelle Kaye
I sighed. Perfect. In a lonely world, with hardly anyone with me, no one to talk to, and hovering between time. It gave my head certain dizziness, the transfer of energy. The stench
was making me gag, and the sight of the dirty environs disgusted and repelled me. In the toilet. That was where I was stuck. Funny place, wouldn't you think, but true. Apparently,
the magical community in Greece had no choice but to send me to Romania through a toilet bowl. No, I was not going through the pipes, Thank Merlin for that, since there might be
things quite unpresentable, but the bowl was a Portkey. And let me assure you, the Muggles of Greece were not keeping their lavatories clean.
That was not too bad, you might think, enduring the odor for a couple if minutes, then be blissfully free, but I was not one to enjoy such luck. The passageway had jammed, because
some git had decided to Apparate from England to New York and in the process, had split himself proper. Now, I had no idea why this should stop me from getting to Romania,
but they blocked off the Portkey, and the pitiful me was trapped. The worst part was: I couldn't move, because the Ministry might choose to re-activate the Portkey anytime in
thirty minutes, and if I weren't there, then au revoir to Romania. And what made the situation a few thousand times shoddier, was that I was not allowed to use magic since it was
in the 'presence of Muggles' and 'anyway, we don't want anything interfering with the Portkey', so 'kindly put away your wands and wait patiently. We thank you for your
cooperation.' Those dudes at the Ministry really had no clue did they? Yes, sympathize with me; mourn with me, while I slowly wasted away in that diminutive cubicle, gradually
dying from the lack of oxygen…
Hey.Wait a minute, I could feel wooziness in my head; maybe the stink seeped poison into my blood already. Bye dad, bye Romania, I'm sure the dragons would have gotten to me
anyway…
Suddenly, I felt a familiar tug near my belly, no, I didn't think it was diarrhea, nor gastric, it seemed like…the Portkey was working! Yes, Thank Merlin, oh yes! I knelt down before
the bowl, not paying the slightest attention to the damp toilet rolls and rancid pong of dried up urine, since I would be out there like magic (and magic it was) in a matter of split
seconds. I grinned euphorically, even as I felt the squashy wetness beneath my knees. I was going to be out! Out of this hellhole, whee! The only thing puzzling me was: the Portkey
was taking an abnormally long time just to suck me in.
My stomach lurched abruptly. That didn't seem very good…I could feel something in my gut, a seeming curdle of my intestines, like the juices in it were planning to spill out, and
they were recoiling, hissing and writhing in my abdomen. I grimaced in pain, my stomach enveloped by my hands. The ache was awful, like a thousand white-hot knives plunging
into my innards and shredding them to pieces repeatedly. I gasped in pain and recognition. Only one thing made me hurt that way: Gastric.
Wasting no time, I rummaged through my trunk, (which was carefully placed on a ledge above the toilet bowl) and finally dug out a packet of Jacob's wholemeal biscuits, which my
boss in Greece insisted I buy, because 'it eez de phenomenal inventeeon of de new uneeverze'. The underlying creatures in my stomach, monstrous or minute, growled and roared
even more, in protest of the strike my mouth was determined to uphold. Hands trembling slightly, I tore open the pack, and grainy square crackers spilled out. Cramming a few into
my mouth, I took a swig of some Butterbeer I brought along, and sighed in relief as the barbaric animals in my belly calmed down, with gentle tides now washing upon the shores of
my stomach. Just for safe measure, I cautiously plucked another yellow-gold biscuit out of the crackly wrapper and gnawed on it, while warily storing the rest of them in my jeans
pocket. I felt something slightly sticky when I dusted my fingers across the back of my pants. Having a sickening sense of dread at what I suspected might be the mystery object; I
slowly brought my hand forward, fearing the answer. When I received it, I nearly retched. Frothy, foamy spit covered my hand. I screamed in revulsion and repulsion. Imagine some
person's dirty discharge in your hands, and bubbles bursting while you're at it, and then tell me how you'd have felt. I shuddered, repulsed by-
"Jesus Christ! What's it with Greeks and bloody screaming? I come here for a flipping good holiday with my boyfriend and I have to put up which his old witch's cackling and now
in the toilet it haunts me too?! Will you shut up?" Some hysterical woman screeched. Merlin, I was that loud? I guessed 'oops' was an understatement, and 'sorry' would make
her ramble on more, so I wisely chose to keep quiet. After a little while, I could hear the lady stalk off, muttering under her breath about those 'bloody Greeks'.
Then, I felt another yank in my tummy. I groaned in dismay, I hoped the gastric wasn't acting up again. I'd thrown the rest of my packets (of biscuits) away, only leaving those few
pieces from just now. Somehow, though, this time seemed slightly different from gastric, no, no, not diarrhea, but something else. I frowned, puzzled. Then, my head shot up,
understanding breaking out across my face like dawn's first light. The Portkey! Haha! I grinned with newfound glee. I stood up, slightly unsteadily, blood finally rushing through my
legs. I lurched towards the toilet bowl, cackling like a maniac. And rushed headlong into the murky water, just as the Portkey sucked me in…
Damn it.
So, how was it? I hope it was alright, because I rewrote this particular chapter 3 times. Mental blocks are sickening. anyway, there's a little button down there, so...press it and REVIEW! Bye!