Colin’s Hogwash

1. The Chocolate What Card?



The horizon was barely tinged with pink, but Dennis was already dressed in his new shirt and trousers. He stood at the window barefoot, looking out and breathing in the air redolent of the wildflowers, the cattle’s drying manure, the dew-laden grass and the sharp clean scent of the sea.

It smelled like a wonderful morning. Though it wasn’t.

He winced, not liking the direction of his thoughts. He went back to his bed and sat on its edge. His patent leather loafers shone in the dimness of his lamp like a beacon. It used to belong to his brother.

Below him, he heard his mother puttering around in the kitchen. The room was lighter now. Dennis had no idea he’d been staring blankly for so long. He blinked. With that blink, he took notice of the box whose shadow lay just inches from the loafers.

Dennis held his breath as he disturbed the dust covering the top of the cardboard box. It was chained and padlocked. He smirked at it now, but when he’d been eleven, it had seemed a clever idea. Inside the box was his diary after all.

He hadn’t touched it in three years.

Having no idea at all where the key was, he just ripped one side open after pushing the chain for enough space. Through the space, he wrestled his diary out.

It had been a gift from Aunt Eloise, whose seeming delusion that they were nieces instead of nephews Colin hated.

He wondered what Colin did with his diary. As for him, he did write on it some, and then locked it away, when life began to be too interesting to be logged onto a diary.

His heart thudded in his ribcage with as he leafed through the first few pages. Ah, there it was.

May 14, 1992, Saturday, 6:35 pm

Hello Jim,

Yeah, Mum told me I should name you too. So that’s your name. It’s short and very friendly. Look, I have something to show and entrust to you. I know it hasn’t been long, but you don’t have a tongue or legs or hands, its safe to trust you.

What do you think? I took this photo with Popsy’s Brownie. He said he’ll give it to Colin soon so I seezed my chance to use it one last time. Don’t worry, Nana said she’d get me my own camera. And if she forgets I’d go to Aunt Eloise! Ha! I developt this at Auntie’s basement last week. I’d been hiding it in my underwear drawer all this time, but I couldn’t lock that drawer forever, because Mum’s getting suspicious.

This photo’s the mouse.

Dennis sniggered. Taped beneath his messy scrawl was a picture of his brother in greyscale, but his pout and the round glob on his nose was very sharp in focus. Dennis remembered drawing that mouse nose on his brother with Aunt Eloise’s lipstick. Colin had been napping in the porch swing, knocked out by all the apple pies with which their aunt had stuffed them.

Dennis still wondered why Colin pouted when he slept. He had never asked or told him either. Again, Dennis scowled at his own thoughts and turned his attention back to his diary.

June 28, 1992, Friday, 7:10 pm

Jim!

He’s at it again!

Have I told you about Colin’s quirks yet? He told stories, you know. Aside from being squeal-y. I mean that he’s loud and shrill when he’s happy, not that he ever tells on me. Anyway, sometimes I even wonder if Aunt Eloise was right and that Colin was a niece in a nephew’s body. It’s bad enough the islanders still see us as transplants. My brother had to be ezzentrick as well, bugger. That’s what I heard Miss Gibbons say to my mother today. “He’s rather ezzentrick, and that makes the other children treat him badly at times, but I’ve always known him to be gentle, until now.�

You see, there’s Robert Farrow at school. He’s the son of another dairy farmer here in Alderney. And me and Colin think that’s the reason he’s marked us as targets of his bullying bad breath from the beginning.

The littluns maybe had a practical exam about cattle that morning, cos at lunchtime, we saw a big white Brahman and a little maroon Jersey tethered to the ash tree in the corner of the school yard. They must have been there long enough, cos there were giant lumps of dung around them.

Colin and his classmates were kicking ball with their shirts off. When I entered the school yard, I could hear Farrow shouting insults to my brother’s anatomy from his jowls to his ribs to his bellybutton. Colin ignored him. I guess Farrow hated being ignored, cos when the ball went by the cow-corner of the schoolyard, he went after Colin and shoved him.

There was lots of dung there. I only thanked God Colin wasn’t wearing his shirt. If his pants were the corduroys, though, Mum would kill him.

But Colin grabbed the Brahman.

Farrow just spat and turned away. I told you, though, that my brother was a story-teller and squeal-y.

I was yards off, but I still heard him.

“The cow moved! It sorta jerked its haunches so I grabbed them!�

My classmates beside me sniggered. I groaned.

I heard Farrow’s voice next. “Oh, so you grab haunches when they jerk, do you?�

More sniggers.

Farrow bowed. “Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you another of Creevey’s Famous Hogwash.�

“You leave my family name out of this,� Colin said. We had always been lectured by our dad about the importance of our name. And yeah, Thomas Creevey also wrote diaries!

“Colin’s Hogwash then,� Farrow said with another bow. But the audience had by then stopped laughing, cos Farrow wasn’t funny anymore and my brother wasn’t that unpopular. Judith Ruth, the editor of the Rag even called him ‘whimsical’, as in Credits of our photos to our whimsical Colin Creevey.

I was sighing with relief when I heard my brother say, “They’re not hogwash.�

I left my perch on one of the first floor corridor benches and ran to my brother. Farrow had turned back by then and I reached them just in time to hear his joovenile singsonging. “The apples peeling themselves for you that time you were sick, the manure lopping back onto the bucket when you tripped on your ugly big feet at the fair, and now this cow you’re dumber than waving her fanny to save you from getting a faceful of dung. You’re ridiculous, Creevey. Give it up. You just like playing it up, don’t you?�

And then Farrow said something about our father. By this time, blood rushed to my ears so maybe that’s why I don’t remember much. But it was nasty. Something about Colin playing up my father’s being from the mainland with cock-and-bull stories, like we were better than anyone else and that was why Colin was saved and obeyed by the apples and manure and cows.

It was ridiculous. Maybe Farrow’s dad was that bitter about the competition. Popsy did say our dad had a dab hand in raising dairy cattle. He even drove around delivering milk to our neighbours even though only a dozen or so of them didn’t have their own cow or two. It was quite beneath him, Popsy said. Dad was from Oxford and he met Mum at university. When Popsy and Nana decided to retire, they gave the egg farm to Aunt Eloise and the dairy farm to Mum. Mum and Dad moved here. Me and Colin were born here in Alderney. Farrow was the one who was ridiculous. And I wanted to thump him. But see, I couldn’t have reached him even if I acted on my insane impulse. Cos suddenly Farrow flew to one of the dunghills made by the well-fed Brahman and Jersey.

And that’s why I hate Colin right now, cos instead of admitting right out that he’d thrown Farrow there (I’d have been proud), he insisted Farrow just flung himself there of his own accord.

And now my hand’s also aching from writing this all down. Maybe I’d hide his favourite socks again as return-torment.

Dennis skipped several pages’ worth of entries, turning pages almost frantically.

July 15, 1992, Sunday, 8 pm

Hey Jim,

We were having Sunday breakfast when Colin regald us with another ‘hogwash’. Popsy, Nana and Aunt Eloise all nearly swallowed their false teeth when he entered from the morning’s milking of his pet cow, Merna, and told us he’d had a letter delivered by an owl. Bugger. As if owls would rouse at daytime.

He waved the letter at us but didn’t show the content to us. I saw green ink and curly writing. Where on earth did he get such ink and who wrote it? He also made a show reading the letter. His eyes got round and round and threatened to pop out onto his pancakes.

And then after Nana forced him to drink water and even rubbed his cheeks cos they’d gone so white, Colin said in one breath: “ItsayshereI’mawizardandthatI’m acceptedtoHogwashCoolandthatProfessorDumbeldoortheHeadmasterwilltalktoyoulaterat6 o’clockandthatallyouneedtodowasholdtheChocolateFrogCard.�

So you get an idea of why we just stared at him for about a minute, Jim. I only deciphered it cos Colin was just here and we talked. I talked, he babbled. It didn’t make sense.

Dad just said, “The chocolate what card?�

And Nana said, “Dumbwaiter, Colin, not dumb-door. What about dumbwaiters, then, my buck?�

But Colin only shook his head and shoved the letter under Mum and Dad’s noses. Aunt Eloise was rubbing circles on Colin’s back with one hand and rubbing his cheeks with the other. Mum and Dad looked at each other after reading and then laughed real good.

Colin went up his room and didn’t go out ever since until awhile ago when he came here to my room.

He said, “Den, that letter said I’m a wizard and that I’m accepted at hog warts school of witchcraft and wizardry.�

I’d asked him to repeat it, that’s why I could spell it now. Hog warts. My foot. Where did he come up with that? And then I smiled. I said to him, I said, “Look, I know you don’t wanna be at Auntie’s during the fair, but Mum and Dad’ll still see you anyway even if you sneak.�

You see, Colin’s been banned by Mum from the fair cos of his run in with Farrow. We’re usually tasked with disposing of the buckets of dung from the horses and cows we trade, but Popsy and Nana were real generous lining our pockets so we nearly always rode the rides and shot with air rifles and even bought jars of marbles. Colin must be sore missing that. And this must be a plan to sneak back, I thought, an excuse to be able to hide maybe in the port, away from Auntie.

But he really believed that letter ‘delivered by owl’. He said he’d given the chocolate frog card to Mum and Dad. And that the chocolate frog had jumped before he caught it and ate it. Really. I just patted his shoulder. His imagination was wilder when he was lonesome.

It was going on 6 then and we’d just finished dinner. Colin said Mum and Dad would be talking with Professor Dumbledore anytime soon.

“He says in the letter that he has business with an old friend Nicholas and can’t leave him yet so it was handy to send us all a chocolate frog card he has enchanted so he can talk to our parents that way.�

“What do you mean ‘us’?� I asked.

“Oh, other students, I reckon.�

My coo-coo clock coo-coo-d the hour and then it was silent for a moment before we heard Mum shriek.



Author’s Note: A Brahman is a breed of beef cattle; a Jersey is one of dairy cattle.

I’ll remind you, too, guys, that Dennis is nine years old in his diary in this chapter. It is difficult enough watching his tenses (whew!), but I let him have some adorable slips in spelling and numerals. You can’t italicise your handwriting either, so he uses underlining.

Before DH’s release, one of my ‘predictions’ is that Harry and co. will be able to confer with Albie through a Chocolate Frog Card, handier than his portrait. I realise this dream here. ^_^

For non-Brits like me: Alderney is one of the Channel Islands (along with Jersey, Guernsey and Sark) off the coast of UK. Potatoes are their principal export. But the Channel Islands are also known for their unique breeds of cattle (the Jersey and the Guernsey originated here). I love joining the Challenges because of the research. I’ve researched dairy cattle and the Channel Islands are mentioned and voila.

~>Forgive the liberty if it’s been mentioned by JKR where the Creeveys live. In this story, I also interpreted Colin’s “My Dad’s a milkman� as a rather careless and excitable blurt. Can you see the fields he passes here as he delivers his milk to neighbours? More charming than driving a truck through city/suburb traffic, no?

Brownie: a type of box camera, (the earliest type used by the general public, designed by British Kenneth Henry Grange), the one Colin dazzles Ron and Harry with in the COS movie.

I love poor Colin. I’ve made another little tribute to him in my other story Complete Faith in You. Thank you for reading. Tell me what you think!

Colin’s Hogwash

2. Diagonally and Gring-goats



Yep, Jim, Mum shrieked. We’d never heard her shriek before, except when Dad fell off the hayloft, but we were babies then, so we don’t remember. Me and Colin rushed out. But before we could pound on their bedroom door, our fists froze in midair cos we heard a man inside that didn’t sound like Dad or Popsy. And whoever else could be in our parents’ bedroom?

He was saying, “Pardonnez moi, pardonnez moi. Devons-nous parler en Anglais ou Français?�

I wanted to see the man. I knocked and called Mum. Colin stood sorta rigid beside me. Amazingly, Mum didn’t sound like she just shrieked the roof off seconds before. She snapped, “Go to bed, boys!� like nothing happened and then I dragged Colin away and she was saying, “We can speak in English, sir. I was educated in the mainland and so was my husband.�

I put Colin in his room and I went to mine and I dismantled my Lego crane and backhoe and built them again before I thought I’d better write this all down in case more of Colin’s hogwash would happen tomorrow and I don’t want to be overloaded.

Dennis smiled at the images in his mind, of that long ago evening. Yet it seemed only like yesterday.

Keeping his index finger in between the pages, he closed the diary and strode to the window again, intending to take another fortifying breath of fresh air. All these recounts he’d painstakingly put down when he was a kid was causing him pain now. And wasn’t he still a kid? Wasn’t Colin still a kid himself? He could already hear what their relatives and neighbours would say.

He jumped slightly when he realised the front yard was crowded with people and cars. He pulled himself back from the window before anyone could see him. He didn’t want anyone’s sympathy right now.

He sat back down on his bed and reopened his diary. He blinked angrily several times at first before the text un-blurred.

July 16, 1992, Monday, 2 pm

At breakfast today, more of Colin’s hogwash did happen. The weird thing was Mum and Dad seemed convinced about it. They believed it. They even told Popsy and Nana not to shout about it! Bugger, bugger, bugger. Popsy and Nana joined us. It’s only two weeks until the fair. I thought at first Popsy and Dad were going to talk about our stall for the fair, but Nana spoke first and she wanted to know whether the headmaster of Colin’s came and talked to them like it was said in the letter.

Colin stopped chewing on his bacon and swallowed and choked. Popsy and I thumped him on the back. Mom was eyeing us, but before she could say more than “Boys,� Colin rasped, “We wanta hear it.� His eyes were watering from choking, but Nana gushed at once. “Oh, they have as much right to hear, Annie.� So my Mum just sipped her coffee and I said, “Yeah, why was he in your bedroom?�

Popsy and Nana sputtered on their coffee and ogled Mum and Dad. Dad said, “He did come exactly like it was said in the letter, you know. Anne, where did you—?�

Mum got up and I thought she was fetching Dad’s pipe. She was always hiding it. But she didn’t go anywhere. She only put down her knife and reached into a pocket.

“You put it in your pocket?� Dad asked, and we all jumped, expecting to see Mum holding an adder or something as hideous. But Mum only handed Dad a card with a scowl. “What? I can’t leave it lying around!� she said.

Dad sat at the head of the table, now, and Popsy sat on his left, and Colin was next to Popsy and I was next to Colin. So I couldn’t see much of the card. It was peachy brown, with loopy writing on its back. Dad looked at it and muttered, “He’s not here,� and handed the card over to Popsy.

“Who’s not here?� asked Popsy. Nana was gaping at Dad and Mum and Popsy and at the card. Colin grabbed the card. I leaned in beside him and looked. In the centre was a navy blue square where perhaps a picture of a man could be. But the picture was empty.

“Colin’s Headmaster was there last night. Professor Dumbledore. He talked to us about the school. Hog warts.�

Dad was smiling. And he talked slowly so that Popsy and Nana wouldn’t miss a word. So Popsy reddened and scowled at Dad.

“You know I don’t like swearing, Ben, especially when they’re about God or livestock.�

Dad and Mum both looked bewildered. And then Colin said, “It’s okay, Popsy, Dad was not swearing. That’s the name of my school, hog warts.�

It was my turn to choke. Colin didn’t thump me but glared at me as I coughed and laughed. But wouldn’t you have died at that, Jim? What sort of school was that to keep the name ‘hog warts’?

As if reading my thoughts, Nana asked, “Dears, what school is this?�

“They’re gonna teach me magic.�

Yeah, right, Colin.

Mum and Dad did NOT contradict Colin, they just shook their heads at him and then Dad said to Popsy and Nana, “Professor Dumbledore said to give Colin five hundred pounds to shop for books and school supplies. We—�

“Hah! What scoundrels. They’ll take those pounds off our Colin, you mark my words—�

“We’ll see that they won’t, Dad,� Mum said. “Ben was saying that we asked about the school fees, but Professor Dumbledore said not to worry about it; the school was operated on funds from the... the community. Colin need only get his supplies. They also have funds for that, but that’s only for orphans and the like who don’t have money.�

I remember that pause before Mum said ‘the community’. I wonder about that. Maybe she was about to say, ‘hogwash’, hah. I get it, you know, Jim? They were humouring Colin so he would go through with his punishment with grace. It’s the first time either of us got punished in a big way like this anyway. So I also sympathised with my brother.

But that was until my Dad said, “Den, you’ll just have to help your Nana and Popsy and Auntie for the fair without us. Just this year.�

I asked Dad what he meant. He said he meant he and Mum will be with Colin to get his school supplies.

He can get his school supplies as good as anybody, I said. But Dad said this time was different.

Nana saw me getting riled up. She handed me a scone she had buttered and then said, “What else, what else? Where is this school? Boarding or non-boarding?�

That drew my interest so I kept quiet. My brother may be ezzentrick, but he was all I had. When Mum said that it was boarding and Colin was boarding, I forgot the bit of scone in my mouth. I forgot that it was all hogwash. I forgot everything except that my brother was going away.

“He’s not going. You can’t afford it, Mum.�

They all turned to me. Nana gave me another scone and said, “Don’t talk when your mouth is full, my buck. That’s true, Annie. Boarding schools are pricey. Fifteen thousand to thirty-five thousand pounds a year, aren’t they, Mug?�

Pop nodded (Among family and friends, Nana and Pop called each other Mug and Daffy).

“This farm you gave us doesn’t yield just a pittance, you know that,� Dad said, smiling at Pop and Nana. “This farm can support your grandsons just fine, and even up to more than fine. But Professor Dumbledore said school fees are taken care of. All we need to do is go to The Leaky Cauldron in London. The barman, Tom, is expecting us.�

“Barman?� Nana sprayed Colin with her coffee and I was a little gratified.

Pop sent a soothing ‘Daffy’ to her and then frowned at Dad. Mum said, “Tom will simply direct us to this special place where we can get Colin’s things. They’re not easily found elsewhere.�

I asked what things. But Auntie came in at that point, still in her curlers, and Mum and Dad and Nana and Popsy all bustled over breakfast and Auntie’s news about the Farrows’ new Guernseys like they weren’t talking hogwash before. Colin was grinning. I wanted to thump him, Jim.

Dennis grinned again. He was beginning to relish reading his diary. If he didn’t watch it, he might even not go down at all. What he had here in his colourful and wonderfully detailed journal was infinitely preferable to what he had to face down there. If only he could stay in these memories.



July 29, 1992, Sunday, 7:15 pm

I don’t believe it! They’re taking me with them. Dad said might as well make it a family holiday. So I’m going with Mum and Dad and Colin to London! I think I’ll talk to Colin again now. See you, Jim.

Dennis flicked at something wet on his cheek. He paid no attention to it. He turned the page.



August 2, 1992, Thursday, 9:27 pm

It’s wicked hot here, Jim. Mum and Dad are in their room next door. Colin’s reading one of his books. I bet it’s Magical Photography again. I can’t sleep. I don’t even remember what hotel we’re in. Everything’s sorta knocked to and from and around my brains after we went to The Leaky Cauldron. I keep thinking.

Mum and Dad didn’t see the place until Colin and I opened the door. That was weird. It was in Charing Cross Road. And we spotted the sign and they were still looking around even when we were right in front of it. And then there were all these weird people and stuff in the pub as well. Floating and whizzing stuff, old women who looked like those hags in story books, several men with weird noisy and glinting merchandise in pockets or cages, and they all wore robes in dark or lurid colours. And then there was Tom, the barman. He was toothless but affable enough. He gave us one look and then smiled and got around the bar and called, “This way, this way, please!� He led us to a back door and to a tiny yard with a rubbish bin near a brick wall.

“Unless you want to stay at the pub for a bit and have a drink to let it all sink in?� he asked Mum and Dad, who both shook their heads and nodded at the same time. Tom chuckled. He sounded like Pop. Pop would like him. “Now, you take deep breaths here and steel yourself for some more surprises. I’ll be back in a sec.�

He bustled away and the four of us looked at each other, at the rubbish bin and at the brick wall. Colin was bouncing on the balls of his feet. I was just about to snap at him to stop it when I felt Mum’s hand on my shoulder. I had been bouncing, too.

Tom returned with a rolled-up note. He unrolled it. The paper was unusual, but it looked like the same kind of paper Colin’s letter had been. Tom gave it to Dad. “It’s not that complicated, my man. Just stick to the list and you’ll be fine. And then come back here for a cuppa or a pint. Now then, are you ready?�

Jim, it was amazing. Tom took out a little stick, and tapped the brick wall. And the brick wall moved! Each brick sorta swung and moved until the brick wall became an archway. Colin was breathing loud through his mouth and not until I choked on my own spit did I realise I was, too. Behind us, Mum was chanting, “Ben! Ben! Ben!�

Beyond the archway, was a street filled with people. The same sort of people sitting in the pub. And the street was composed entirely of shops. We could make out the signs and the noise couldn’t be anything other than a marketplace anyway. Or a fair! Colin looked at me and I looked at Colin and we both grinned at each other. Tom chuckled. “This is diagon-ally. Enjoy!�

Mum must have sensed me and Colin wanting to bolt, because she had a hand on each of our wrists even before Tom left us. “What does it say on the list, Ben?�

“Uh, ‘first, go to gring-goats. The white marble building. The wizards bank. Ask for Currency Exchange.’ �

Colin snatched the list from Dad and we read it together. I still have it here. I’ll copy it down. Oh, heck, I’m pasting it here.

---

Dear Mr and/or Mrs/Miss Muggle,

We are happy to welcome you and your child/charge to our world. You understand that this world is hidden. And rightly so. But it is not dangerous. However, nor is it harmless. So we suggest you take care to observe this list we have made to help you on your first venture into the Wizarding community. Welcome to Diagon Alley. You have met Tom and you have your child’s school requirements list at hand. You can proceed following these easy steps.

1st, Go to Gringotts, the white marble building, the wizards’ bank. Ask for Currency Exchange at the desk.

2nd, Proceed to Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions. Ask for Hogwarts robes, first year, plain.

3rd, Proceed to Flourish and Blotts, furnish list of books required for the school year.

4th, Proceed to the Apothecary, for potions ingredients, basic kit for beginners.

5th, Proceed to Scrivenshaft’s or Poppy Roo’s (for quills, parchments and other stationery needs) and Tin and Theek (Potions and Astronomy tools).

6th Proceed to Ollivander’s, for wand introduction.

7th, Proceed to The Leaky Cauldron or Florean Fortescue’s for refreshments and rest.

Steps 2nd -7th may be shuffled, but Madam Malkin’s and Flourish and Blotts asks customers not to take food and drink into their establishments, and care should be taken not to lose one’s newly-acquired wand, and in the excitement of shopping, this is likely for a new young wizard/witch and his/her family.

The shops listed are recommended for their knowledge of Hogwarts requirements and regulations and their courtesy toward Muggles and Muggleborns. Caution is advised when conducting business with other establishments and individuals.

---

Of course, me and Colin went, “What’s a Muggle? Is it us? Are we Muggles?�

A man with slightly greying hair passed us and heard us and smiled at me and Colin. “Not all of you. You two boys are not Muggles, but Muggleborns.�And then he smiled at Mum and Dad. “You are Muggles. It simply means non-magical people. Welcome.�

Okay so... Gads, I couldn’t begin to write everything here. It was amazing, Jim. We passed this shop, Quality Quidditch Supplies. And there were brooms there. I heard some kids talking about them. They weren’t brooms for Auntie Eloise, they were racing brooms! I wonder what Quidditch is.

There were also all these owls! Mum was quite enchanted. She liked birds. We’d never seen more kinds of owls anywhere. I began to understand Colin’s letter being delivered by owl. And all this time, Colin couldn’t keep still. I only know cos Mum kept grabbing us. I guess I was as much in a dither. You couldn’t blame us, Jim. Wait til I tell you about the bank.

We gaped at it for some moments, cos it was a little crooked. All white marble. And all crooked. And then it had a bronze door, and then a silver door after that, and there was a poem on it. I bet Colin can recite it by heart. I’ll ask him tomorrow so I can write it down here.

Anyway, the bank! The bank was run by goblins! Mum shrieked when she first saw them all. They looked frightful enough. Long noses and long crooked hands and nasty staring eyes.

I guess that shriek was good for us, cos one of the goblins shuffled immediately to us and led us to the desk where another goblin with glasses on his long nose bid us good day and asked for our Muggle money and explained to us that there were five pounds to a Galleon. That’s the wizard currency. He even showed us a chart. Gold Galleons, silver Sickles and bronze Knuts.

He gave us our new coins in a leather pouch and recited to us what we’d already seen on the chart. “Twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle, seventeen Sickles to a Galleon. Good day.�

We did have a good day! Me and Colin couldn’t even keep it in, we whooped at the top of the marble steps. Some people grinned at us, some gave us weird looks.

Oh and then we shopped

But it was all for Colin, Jim, not me! It all happened to Colin, not me. More will happen to Colin, and HE’S GOING AWAY! I hate him!



Author’s Note: Temperamental, our Dennis, isn’t he? And yes, he doesn’t realise what Remus said. Yes again, it was Remus on his way to the Leaky that day. And the lack of punctuation in the second to last paragraph is intended. Dennis suddenly broke off writing.

~For non-Brits like moi, French and English are the official languages in the Channel Islands, so don’t be so surprised that a nine-year-old spelled Français so accurately, hehe. ^_^

~Thanks to MagicalMaeve, Yellow Rose, emmaholloway and Heather25x at the Forums for giving me British school tuition info and the worth of school supplies shopping. According to Jan (MM), one will spend £200 to £250 for school shopping without books. As we buy books for Hogwarts, I doubled the amount. Convert that to Galleons and you understand why the Weasleys get things second-hand (there was only one Galleon in their vault).

~Yes, I think Hogwarts is run on the Wizarding community’s taxes (of course they pay taxes, they have a Ministry) and donations, though it is autonomously governed until the time the Ministry decided to snatch the reins. Remember in COS? Twelve school governors. I imagine they run and manage the school, miscellaneous funds (student dietary, staff salaries and school maintenance) and personnel included, which is why they had the power to suspend Albie. If Hogwarts has proper tuition fees like its Muggle counterparts, Harry wouldn’t have met Ron!