Trevor the toad sat motionless on the roof of the Gryffindor Tower and stared out at the Forbidden Forest. Laughter and loud music drifted up from downstairs. They’ve won another match of that flying game, Trevor thought, Quidditch or something like that …
As he was sitting there, tears welling up in his bulging eyes, he didn’t notice a white, feathered shape drop onto the roof next to him. The owl, Hedwig, screeched and brought Trevor out of his train of thought. “You alright, Trev? You look upset.”
“Yes, of course I am,” Trevor replied, in a croaky voice, “it’s that boy of mine, Neville. He’s ignoring me. Back in the good old days, it was lots of hugs and kisses for me, but no, now he just plays with that plant of his all the time, the Mimble-thingy … ”
“Mimbulus Mimbletonia,” Hedwig interrupted. “It comes from Assyria, and has an amazing defensive mechanism,” she continued, her eyes shining.
“How in the Half-Blood Prince’s name did you know that?” the toad asked, staring at Hedwig.
Hedwig grinned as well as a creature with a beak can grin. “I had nothing to do the other day, so I went down to the library and read a rather interesting book called The Lord of the Rings, and then another book about Assyrian plants. Anyway, where were we? Is there any way I can cheer you up?”
“No, I don’t think so. You know, you’re really lucky. If you get fed up with that boy of yours, Harry … ”
“He’s alright. I can’t complain really.”
“Can you let me continue? As I was saying, if you get fed up with Harry, you can just fly off to Hogsmeade, or Barbados, or somewhere else nice and warm. But all I can do is sit in the dormitory and glare at the Mimble-thingy all day. Occasionally I wander off and get lost. I remember one time last year I found myself in the Chamber of Secrets and I couldn’t find my way out for a month.”
“You never did find your way out, Trev. I had to fly down there and rescue you. Neville was quite upset, you know.”
“But that was last year, Hedwig. This year he’s been treating me like a worthless piece of … cabbage. I bet that next year he won’t even bring me. Instead, he’ll bring the Mimbloo … Mimbully … plant and leave me with Uncle Algie,” Trevor shuddered.
Hedwig put a wing 'round her friend’s warty shoulders. You know what, Trev? What you need is a quick trip around Hogwarts.” The owl flapped her wings and gripped Trevor’s back.
Trevor put his webbed foot down. “Actually, we toads have an irrational fear of flying. I didn’t tell you about it before because … erm … ”
“Have you ever been flying before, Trev?”
“No.”
“Exactly. Geronimo!”
Hedwig leapt off the tower and plummeted toward the ground, screeching with joy.
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Crookshanks was a large ginger cat who looked like he had performed in the Feline Olympics. If running face-first into walls were an Olympic sport, that is. And that at the same time that Hedwig and Trev were having that enlightening conversation that I just told you about, he was right below them.
Well, maybe not exactly below them, but he was in a room below them, curled up on Hermione Granger’s lap in the Gryffindor Common Room. While a party went on around them, Hermione was asleep, an empty bottle of Butterbeer in her hand. Crookshanks peered at her with a yellow eye and sighed.
Humans. Who’d have them?
Crookshanks got up and stretched, wiggling his bottlebrush tail in Hermione’s face. He’d decided that it was time for a stroll around the castle, and anyway, he’d just seen a toad fly past the window.
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Now you’re probably thinking, Goodness, that’s an awful lot of characters already. Will there be any more in this wonderful story?
Well, there is one more. So let us concentrate on the office of a certain Professor Albus Percival Brian Wulfric Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
There are lots of things in his office, but unfortunately, not the Pillar of Storgé. However, we don’t want to talk about that yet. Sitting on a perch next to the desk of Dumbledore is Fawkes, a phoenix. If you don’t know what a phoenix is, it’s time to go to the library and read up on them.
Fawkes was bored. You would probably get bored if you were immortal and every so often burst into flame and were born again. He yawned and looked around. Dumbledore, his human, still wasn’t back, and he’d been gone for a few days. His disappearance last year had been understandable, because most of the office had been destroyed.
Some snoring brought Fawkes out of this train of thought. He looked around, startled, and then realized that it was one of the paintings. Fawkes had tried talking to them earlier, but his singsong voice had sent most of the older ones to sleep. Every now and then, one of the people in the pictures would snort in their sleep, or fall over. It was quite irritating, really.
The door to the office opened, and Fawkes’ eyes opened wide. Had Dumbledore come back? Alas, this wasn’t to be so. Instead, a cloaked figure crept up the stairs and looked slowly around the room. The phoenix gulped; the figure in front of him gave off an aura of menace.
When the figure had got near enough, Fawkes took off, scratching the figure’s face with his claws. As the person fell to the floor, holding their head in their hands, Fawkes flew towards a closed window. He looked behind him and saw the person getting up, a wand held in front of them.
Fawkes braced himself and smashed through the window, into the cool night air. A ball of bright light flew out behind him, just missing Fawkes’ tail feathers.
Right then, he thought. I think it’s time for a little holiday …