Disclaimer: I simply have an unhealthy obsession with a fictional boy. Ah well, at least I’m not alone. You all know I’m not JKR, so there’s no use telling you otherwise. If you cared who I was, you’d read my author information, or whatever it’s called.
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Chapter Two: Results and Blood
A momentary silence met these words, until there was a unanimous outburst of joy.
“We could be brothers!” exclaimed Ron.
“Excellent!” said Fred or George. (How should I be able to tell them apart?)
“Bloody brilliant!” said George or Fred. (Again, they’re identical)
“Oh, Harry, that’s wonderful!” squealed Hermione.
“Wicked!” said Ginny.
“Really?” said Harry, in a tone of complete amazement.
“Yes,” said the smiling Mr. Weasley. “You don’t have to answer now. We’ll give you time to think about it.”
“Ok,” said Harry. He was obviously still in shock. I myself didn’t mind moving to the Weasleys’. They’ve got three other owls to keep me company. For one, Errol, a battered old fart sack who is always happy to give his account of ‘the good ol’ days’. Second, Hermes, (Percy moved back in with his family after apologizing profusely to his parents) a handsome owl, flirtatious, and bit stuck up. And of course, Pigwidgeon, oh heaven spare me.
I watched as the Weasleys all departed from the kitchen, leaving Harry to contemplate the decision before him. Harry was obviously captured in astonishment; something that isn’t very interesting to watch, so I went to go and see what the rest of the house thought about it.
I flew through the house in search of an open door, and found one, containing two girls. I flew to sit on one of the bedposts.
“I do hope he says yes,” said Ginny nervously.
“So do I,” said Hermione as a small smile played across her lips.
“Yes, of course,” smirked Ginny. “You’d just love it if he was my brother, wouldn’t you. Have a clear field, you would, eh?
“What?” shrieked Hermione, blushing furiously.
“Yeah, sure, like you have absolutely no idea what I’m talking about,” said Ginny. She rolled her eyes. “It doesn’t matter, because I stopped fancying him ages ago.”
“I just want him to have a proper family, that’s all!” said Hermione, still quite red.
“Of course,” said Ginny innocently. “And the fact that you think he’s handsome and brave and would do anything for you means absolutely nothing, I suppose?”
Hermione resembled a very ripe tomato. I wonder if humans keep some sort of red stuff in their face -- like under their skin -- so that every time they feel the slightest bit embarrassed, they turn as red as the setting sun? Anyway, I had better things to do than to listen to hormonally challenged teenagers tease each other.
I took off from the bedpost and went to find a place where there would be more intelligent conversation. I heard two identical voices coming from a door that was just open enough for me to swoop through. Fred and George were talking together -- about a new invention of some kind. Intelligent conversation? I think not.
I flew around for a bit more, and found Ron -- talking to Pig. I made to swoop out again, but as expected, Pig’s shrill voice (or hoot, rather) called out to me.
“Hey, Hedwig! Over here! Guess what? You and Harry get to come live at The Burrow! We can spend all day together!”
I had this odd sort of sinking feeling, until I felt the need to be ill. I coughed up a good sized pellet, at which Ron scrunched up his nose. All day, all night, with nothing but the sound of Pig’s voice (hoot) echoing through my head. I wished with all my might that I was back in that tree, that very violent tree that tried to kill me once. A ‘Whomping Willow’, I think they called it.
“Eurgh, Hedwig, that’s disgusting,” said Ron, kicking the regurgitated lump under a bed. “Anyway, as I was saying, before somebody felt the need to be ill on my floor, ahem, Harry’s got to say yes! I mean, why wouldn’t he? He’d get to leave the Dursleys’, for a start. What could be better than that?”
“And Hedwig’ll come too!” shrieked Pig.
I swear, I could have eaten that brainless little rat with wings right then and there. But, fortunately for him, I dislike eating rats. Mice are much tastier.
Not able to stand the shrill voice for two seconds more, I flew out, and back to Harry.
I flew gracefully into the kitchen, and back to the windowsill. But Harry and I were not alone. Dumbledore sat across from Harry. Harry was no longer in shock, but was asking the headmaster questions.
“What about having to stay at the Dursleys’ because that’s a place where my mother’s blood resides?” asked Harry.
“You will remember, I suppose, that when you left your aunt and uncle’s house earlier this summer, that a group of The Order members came, but left Professor Lupin behind?” said Dumbledore
“Yes,” said Harry, looking confused. “Why was that?”
“Professor Lupin waited until your relatives came home, and then stunned them all. He took a small sample of your Aunt Petunia’s blood. After that, he revived them all, put a memory charm on them and dissapparated.”
Dumbledore pulled a tiny, crystal clear container, filled with a deep red substance. He held it out in his had for Harry to take. Harry didn’t.
“W-what do I do with it?” stammered Harry.
“You must keep it with you at school, and when you go home with the Weasleys for the summer you must keep it with you,” Dumbledore said. Then he added vaguely, “Of course, you may not need it at all.”
Harry looked in shock again. “I have to keep it on me at all times?” he asked, slightly incredulously.
“Only during the summer holidays,” said Dumbledore. He tapped the bottle with his wand, and a thin chain was suddenly attached to it. He held it out for Harry again, and this time, Harry took it. He put it around his neck, looking slightly grim. I didn’t blame him. Erlack! Imagine having to carry around somebody else’s blood around with you! Especially if that somebody was still alive. Gross.
Dumbledore left, and Harry walked over to me.
“Disturbing, isn’t it?” he asked, looking at the small bottle with distaste. He tucked it into his sweater, and stroked my feathers.
“Just a bit,” I hooted in reply.
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Author’s Note: I hope you liked chapter 2. I’m going on a pioneer reenactment in just a few days, (and will get back the day Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince comes out, so I wont be able to get it at midnight… not that I’m bitter, or anything) and I have TONS of things to sew before then. And don’t get mad at me if you don’t get chapter 3 for a while, because I’ll be reading HP6, over and over again. I’m writing these as fast as I can, but my genius cannot be constantly employed, or I might loose my marbles.
P.S. If you love Harry Potter, review!