A/N: Well, this doesn't seem to be having many readers… meh, I don't care. This is for my friends.

Chapter 4: Gloria

The day I found out about Gloria was quite by accident. I'd completely forgotten about her, to be honest, and it was simply my colourful usage of names to call people that lead to her memory being rediscovered.

You see, witches are uncommonly rare, especially in Daisyland and over at the Blueberry ranch, seeing as we have a grand total of two. Me and old Yellow Witch (who is astoundingly ugly, if I must say so myself). My family has always been the witches of Daisyland, and my grandmother-with-a-long-name had been before me.

Of course, each witch must have a familiar. I have Crookshanks, but he's not a familiar and Severus gave him to me as a gift – Crookshanks is my friend, not my familiar.

You see, I had forgotten that. So, one day…

Harry with the cute nose, Ron with the cute toes (yes, they looked like baby peas, they were honestly that adorable) and I were going for a walk. Not a far walk, just to town and back. Only we got lost and I forgot my wand.

So we ended up stranded in Blueberry territory, captured by the most annoying, despicable, dreadful, wicked and stupid Blueberry. His name was Draco, and we had met a few times before. He tried to steal the Golden Daisy and I turned him into a goose; he still has the feather tail to prove it. I don't think he likes me.

But anyways, there we were, thrown into a jail cell made from bubblegum. Yes, I expected blueberries too, but apparently people ate those, and chewed bubblegum wasn't exactly a dish many enjoyed.

Ron enjoyed it though, he was already on his third handful.

"Not so funny now, are you, witch?" Draco-baby asked. I couldn't insult him for being ugly, because he wasn't. He wasn't wearing a silly hat, so I could see his long, golden locks leak onto the floor and his smouldering eyes stared back at me, but with annoyance and a tiny smidge of hatred.

"Oh, I'm still as witty as water," I said, "I will use words to get my comrades and myself out of this prison."

"Are you sure your ginger-haired comrade wouldn't use his mouth?" He spat back, and I looked at Ron with the cute toes. It was possible. I looked at Harry – he was brooding. Bloody hell, am I the only intelligent one here?

"You are a nampy pampy, yellow-eared, curly-toed frog that I wish would get eaten by a rooster!" I yelled at him.

"Yeah? Well, you're pamy namp, green-legged, bendy witch that I wish could get eaten by a toad!" He yelled back.

"Frog hopper!"

"Pool gutter!"

"Toe seller!"

"Finger tamer!"

"Cat licker!" I yelled back, and everyone gasped. "What?" I noticed everyone was staring at me. Ron's sixth hand of chewed bubblegum had ended up on the cell floor and his mouth was wide open as the elf stared at me. Harry's nose was turned into a sneer (but it was still cute) and Draco was, for once in his life, speechless.

"Dearest, no, you went too far," Harry said, "You cannot just call some that."

I didn't see the problem, though, I just called him a man that licks cats.

OH! That's why…

I blushed profusely, as did Draco, for a matter of fact.

"You're never getting out of here now." He said, his voice now away from the teasing attitude he had had beforehand.

"Gloria!" I yelled, so as not to blaspheme.

And, just like that, Gloria appeared. Gloria slammed a foot on the floor, and then she charged, pecking at Draco's ankles. He ran away as fast as his stubby little legs could carry him, conveniently leaving the keys behind.

Gloria the chicken (my familiar) came to the cell and kicked the key to us.

"Come on, then, hurry up!" She yelled at us, and, in sync, our mouths dropped open. A talking chicken?

"Who the hell are you?" Ron asked.

"I'm Gloria," The hen answered, "She summoned me." I think she was trying to point at me, but the only other 'she' here was me, unless she summoned herself.

"Oh, now I remember!" I screamed (because talking like a normal person was beneath me), "Ron, Harry – the day I had to choose a familiar, all of the horses, dragons, phoenixes, magical cats, sphinxes, satyrs, nymphs, minotaurs, lions, tigers, donkeys and frogs were taken. So I chose Gloria." I explained, flicking a finger each time I named a possible familiar I could've had.

"It is nice to know I was your first choice, now get out," The chicken squawked at us, flapping her non-flying wings, "HURRY!"

So we hurried, and ran all the way back to Daisyland. Which was about two metres before we slowed into a jog and then stopped running. We were at war with our neighbouring country: they wanted our Golden Daisy, and we couldn't let them have it.

I said her name again and she disappeared, asking me not to call her again if I could avoid it. She's such a mean chicken, isn't she?

. . .

A/N: Please review.