Colette lived for company. Human beings to her were bewildering, awe-inspiring, magnificent creatures that demanded careful eyes and an open mind. Because of this, new species of animals never interested her. Why should they, when humans proved just as mystifying as ever? She loved knowing people; their every thought, hope, and the contents of their hearts. To her, strangers were missed opportunities, and nothing else gnawed at her like an intangible dream the way the Potters had.
Colette could be found in any one of the rooms of their house, cleaning grime that had been in residence since Dana was nothing more than a fetus. Wearing over-sized, non-malleable rubber gloves and Dudley's old boxing jersey from Smeltings, she combated the mess with no cooperation from the rest of her family.
"Mum, these people aren't going to want a tour of my closet, are they?" groaned Dale as he hitched up the debris that his mother was throwing pell-mell from his closet floor.
"It's best to air on the side of caution dear. Now hang your things up or dump them in a rubbish bin for all I care—I just want to see them gone!"
Dale trudged over to his closet and performed his task inexpertly, bleating complaints all the while.
"I don't see Dana doing any cleaning. I haven't seen Dana at all today, come to think of it."
"Your sister is our responsibility. Just you worry about yourself." Demanded the spent Colette, her aching limbs longing for a soak in the bath. She saw the truth in what Dale had said, however, and decided to have a look in on Dana. She found her in her room, leaning over her unmade bed to grab up a small leather purse.
"And where do you think you're off to, miss? Your cousins will be arriving shortly!"
Dana's face drained of blood.
"I better get going then!" She attempted to push past her mother, but she bounced off of the solid woman in her doorway.
"You best stay right here! You're not still raving about little James, are you?" Colette remembered that one occasion when they attended the Potters' baby shower, held at a restaurant function room in London. Dale was being babysat by his grandparents, on account of his being a fussy two-year-old. Dana was a mature six, and relished the opportunity to wear a new party dress. James and Dana instantly got on, and took off together to the furthest corner of the room. Sometime later, Dana reappeared, trembling beneath their table. Dana refused to say what the matter was, but she would not speak to James again, despite his efforts. The poor boy looked terribly stricken, and his parents were equally grave and apologetic, though Colette couldn't imagine what for. She had wondered, many a time, if the children's spat was the reason why the two families had never visited again.
"You don't understand! There's something weird about that lot. Would it be so bad if I went over to Leslie's until they left?" Her eyes were shining with genuine fear.
"What happened that day?" Colette walked over to her daughter, now equal to her in height. She held her forearms, surprised by the goosebumps she found.
"There were balloons, everywhere. I don't know how he did it, but he told me . . . he told me he was going to. Then it happened, just like he said. He stared at that balloon until it popped! Then another one, then another one! All I could think to do was run!" She sounded confused. "I remember it being scarier than it sounds, but he knew what he was doing." Colette patted her back soothingly.
"Boys will always try to scare girls at that age! It was very long ago, dear. You can't possibly be remembering correctly."
"Can't I just go mum?" She mumbled against Colette's shoulder.
"No. You will stay, and be perfectly civilized to James. Enough of this 'weird' business. I can't get through one day without you calling your brother the very same."
Dana pouted, foisting the purse from her. It tumbled back onto the bed.
"Now fix up that bed, and get those clothes off of your desk. They'll be--" A clear tune carried up from the stairs. "Oh my, they're already here!"
Colette ran full-tilt to her own room.
"Dudley, let them in! I'm not decent!" But when she reached the room, there lied Dudley, sprawled out in nothing but his pants, watching the flat screen.
"Get some clothes on, blast you!" Colette hollered from the door frame. "Dale, can you get the door, dear?" Tell them I'll be there in a moment!"
"Is it seven already?" Muttered Dudley as he stepped into his trousers. Colette looked to the bedside clock. It was.
"How did we get so out of order?" Colette threw the jersey to the floor, bedroom cleanliness no longer a concern of hers. The bell rang for the third time.
"Mum, why can't Dana get the door?" Dale managed to utter before his eyes fell on the half-nude bodies of both his parents. "Gah!!" Dale shielded them before blindness could set in. The door slammed just then, giving everyone a jump. Dale had no time to puzzle; the doorbell had rung a fourth time. Colette, on the other hand, could not fathom how the door slammed, when her son's hands were preoccupied with covering his face.
Dale slid across the hardwood floor, tumbling against the front door. He twisted the knob with some effort, and yanked the door free. Before him stood five familiar faces, all of which were in varying states of confusion and annoyance.
"H'lo." Said Dale, cheerily. "Come on in." And the Potters did just that.