Chapter 2: Help Me, Obi-Wan Hagrid

The letter in emerald green ink read:

Hogwarts Planet

of Witchcraft & Wizardry

Dear Mr. Potwalker,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at the Hogwarts Planet of Witchcraft & Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on Sept. 1. We await your reply not later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore

In disbelief, Harry lowered the letter. "Can I go, Uncle Vernon?"

"Don't be ridiculous," grumbled the fat old man, reaching across the table for seconds. "That's harvest time. It's when I need you the most."

"But, say, what if we got some more hands or maybe bought some slaves. Then could I go?"

"Oh and where are these slaves supposed to come from? Are you going to wizard them right out of the sky?"

CRASH! BANG! THUD! Rattle, rattle, rattle. BUMP!

"Ooh, tha' was a s'upid place 'o build a 'ouse, righ' were I was planning on landing." Slabs of pourstone toppled from the ceiling. Dust filled the room. A pair of hostile eyes glared out of the driver's seat of a heretofore flying car.

Uncle Vernon frowned. "Creature, what are you doing in my kitchen?"

The house elf gave him an evil grin. "I go' a couple of fine slaves here, I though' you migh' like firs' choice."

"Slaves?" beamed Harry. "Now I can go to Hogwarts!"

"Not so fast, Harry." Uncle Vernon glared at Creature. "Let's see what you got."

The family tootled around to the boot of the car while Creature clambered down and opened it up. Two bound and gagged teenage boys were trying to struggle their way free.

"Ugh," grunted Uncle Vernon. "Redheads. Redheads don't last too longer under this sun. Look, they're already blistering."

"No caps, no sunscreen," explained Creature, 'bu' they'll clean up, jus' fine."

A price was quickly negotiated. Fred and George were hoisted out of the boot of the flying car, and then Creature backed the vehicle up and flew away.

"Take these two out to the slave quarters and get them settled in," Uncle Vernon told Harry.

"Slave quarters?"

"The garage!"

"Oh, okay." Harry led Fred and George out behind the house to a large, dilapidated building. He ungagged them and cut their wrist bindings.

"So we're slaves now?" moaned Fred. He glared at George. "This is all your fault."

"Empty out your pockets," grunted Harry pointing to a large, bare worktable. As their few paltry items were tossed onto the table, Harry plucked up one of them. "What's this?"

"It's just a blank piece of parchment."

"No, there's writing on it: 'Help me Obi-Wan Hagrid. You're my only hope.' Obi-Wan Hagrid? Who's he?"

Fred and George played dumb.

"I wonder if that means Old Ben Hagrid."

"Who?" asked George.

"He's a crazy old coot who lives way out by the Cursed Cactus Patch, out in that direction."

"Maybe we should take the parchment to him and see what he says."

"It's too late, now. It's getting dark, and the Dementors will be coming out."

"Dementors?"

"Horrible, rotting creatures who can suck the happiness and even the soul right out of you. It's too dangerous to travel at night with them around."

A cry came from the house. "Harry! Harry! It's time for you to make us supper!"

Harry Potwalker sighed. "Coming, Aunt Cactus Flower."

۞

Before turning in that evening, Harry went back out to the garage to check on the new slaves. He discovered that Fred, George and the parchment were all missing.