Chapter Four- THE POOR BUTTER, YOU LITTLE SHITE!
Have I mentioned how awesome the Burrow is? There's always noise and someone to talk to, it's awesome!
Mrs Weasley fusses over Harry and I and tries to force us to eat fourth helpings at every meal, which I never say no to. Mr Weasley likes having Hazza and I sitting next to him so that he can bombard us with questions about life with Muggles, asking us to explain how things like plugs and the postal service work.
We hear from Hogwarts one sunny morning about a week after H arrived at The Burrow. I go down to breakfast with Harry and Ron to find Mr and Mrs Weasley and Ginny already sitting the kitchen table.
The moment she sees Harry, Ginny accidentally knocks her porridge bowl to the floor with a loud clatter. Ginny seems very prone to knocking things over whenever Harry enters a room.
She's like a mini fan girl!
Ginny dives under the table to retrieve her bowl and emerges with her face glowing about the same colour as her hair. We sit down (I'm in the middle) and I take the toast Mrs Weasley offers me.
"Letters from school," says Mr Weasley, passing Harry, Ron and I identical envelopes of yellowish parchment, addressed in green ink. "Dumbledore already knows you're here, Harry, Emily - doesn't miss a trick, that man. You two've got them, too," he adds, as Fred and George amble in, still in their pyjamas.
Awh, George's hair is all messy, it's cute!
No, bad Emily! He's a friend! Nothing more!
"Remind me to buy some cool coloured ink for this year," I say to no one in particular and tear open my letter.
For a few minutes there is silence as we all read our letters. Blah blah, Hogwarts Express blah blah, September First, blah blah, no bad behaviour, whatever.
Ooooo, new book list!
Second year students will require:
The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2 by Miranda Goshawk
Break with a Banshee by Gilderoy Lockhart
Gadding with Ghouls by Gilderoy Lockhart
Holidays with Hags by Gilderoy Lockhart
Travels with Trolls by Gilderoy Lockhart
Voyages with Vampires by Gilderoy Lockhart
Wanderings with Werewolves by Gilderoy Lockhart
Year with a Yeti by Gilderoy Lockhart
Someone really likes Gilderoy Lockhart....
"You've been told to get all Lockhart's books, too!" Fred says, peering over my shoulder. "The new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher must be a fan - bet it's a witch."
"This lot won't come cheap," says George, with a quick look at his parents. "Lockhart's books are really expensive ..."
"Well, we'll manage," says Mrs Weasley, but she looks worried. "I expect we'll be able to pick up a lot of Ginny's things second hand."
Awh, at least my mum and dad are giving them money for looking after me and for you know, like feeding me....
"Oh, are you starting at Hogwarts this year?" Harry asks Ginny.
No, they're just buying her stuff a couple years early.....
Ginny nods, blushing to the roots of her flaming hair, and puts her elbow in the butter dish.
THE POOR BUTTER, YOU LITTLE SHITE!
Percy walks in, Ron's older brother. He's already dressed, his Hogwarts prefect badge pinned to his knitted tank top.
"Morning, all," says Percy briskly. "Lovely day."
He sits down in the only remaining chair but leaps up again, almost immediately, pulling from underneath him a moulting, grey feathery bird.
"Errol!" says Ron, taking the limp owl from Percy and extracting a letter from under his wing. "Finally - he's got Hermione's answer. Emily and I wrote to her saying we were going to try and rescue you from the Dursleys."
Ron goes to put Errol on his perch but I stop him.
"Pass him here," I say, taking Errol from Ron, and stroking him, feeding him bits of my toast.
Ron rips open the letter and read it out loud:
Dear Ron and Emily, and Harry if your there,
I hope everything went all right and that Harry is ok and that you didn't do anything illegal to get him out, Ron, Emily, because that would get Harry into trouble, too. I've been really worried and if Harry is all right, will you please let me know at once, but perhaps it would be better if you used a different owl, because I think another delivery might finish your one off.
I'm very busy with school work, of course - "How can she be?" says Ron in horror. "We're on holiday!" - and we're going to London next Wednesday to buy my new books. Why don't we meet in Diagon Alley?
Let me know what's happening as soon as you can, love from Hermione.
I let go of Errol, who flies of my arm and out of the open window.
I'm so good with animals!
"Well, that fits nicely, we can go and get all your things then too," says Mrs Weasley, starting to clear the table.
I get to my feet and head up to my room. I open the door and notice that Charmander is on my bed, two notes in her mouth.
"Thanks," I say, taking the notes, stroking him, and watch as he flies out my window.
Two notes. One from El. One from May. Which to open first?
El, Maya left me, the bitch!
Dear Em,
Hermione sent me a letter the other day telling me when she's going to Diagon Alley and I'm going then as well!
I know you've missed me, I mean why wouldn't you? But don't worry, I'll see you next Wednesday, so not long to wait!
I never know how to end letters.....
Bye
P.S It's Elinor
P.P.S I mean, writing to you, it's El writing to you....
Laughing, I throw El's letter onto my bed, and rip open May's.
Sup bitch!
I'm having a great time with my peps here in the down under. AUSTRALIA! My family's being a right pain in the ass but at least I have my cousin's here to talk to. Do you remember them?
Izzy and Delyth? You kept getting them mixed up.
Anyway, I'm not getting back till September first so I'll be late to school.
Eh, education isn't that important!
See ya when I see ya
THE MOST AWESOME BITCH IN THE WORLD (MORE AWESOME THAN YOU!)
What a bitch! I'm totally more awesome and everyone knows it!
*
Mrs Weasley wakes us all early the following Wednesday. After a quick half-a-dozen bacon sandwiches (yum!), we pull on our coats andMrs Weasley takes a flowerpot off the kitchen mantelpiece and peers inside.
"We're running low, Arthur," she sighs. "We'll have to buy some more today ... ah well, guests first! After you, Harry dear!" And she offers him the flowerpot. Harry stares at us.
"W-what am I supposed to do?" he stammers.
"He's never travelled by Floo powder," says Ron suddenly. "Sorry, Harry, I forgot."
"Never?" says Mr Weasley. "But how did you get to Diagon Alley to buy your school things last year?"
"I went on the Underground -"
"Really?" says Mr Weasley eagerly. "Were there escapators? How exactly -"
"Not now, Arthur," says Mrs Weasley. "Floo powder's a lot quicker, dear, but goodness me, if you've never used it before -"
"He'll be all right, Mum," says Fred. "Harry, watch us first."
Fred takes some powder and steps into the fire. He shouts, "Diagon Alley!" and vanishes.
"You must speak clearly, dear," Mrs Weasley says, as George dips his hand into the flowerpot. "And mind you get out at the right grate ..."
"The right what?" says Harry nervously, as the fire roars and whips George out of sight too.
"Well, there are an awful lot of wizard fires to choose from, you know, but as long as you've spoken clearly -"
"He'll be fine, Molly, don't fuss," says Mr Weasley, helping himself to Floo powder too.
"Well ... all right ... you go after Arthur," says Mrs Weasley. "Now, when you get into the fire, say where you're going -"
"And keep your elbows tucked in," Ron advises.
"And your eyes shut," says Mrs Weasley. "The soot -"
"Don't fidget," says Ron. "Or you might well fall out of the wrong fireplace -"
"But don't panic and get out too early," I tell him, "wait until you see Fred and George."
Harry takes a pinch of powder and steps into the fire. He opens his mouth and starts to cough. "D-Dia-gon Alley," he splutters.
Harry disappears and Mrs Weasley turns to me. "What did he say?"
"I think he said diagonally," I mutter, "seriously, you can't do anything right, Harry! Don't worry, I'll go after him."
Before anyone can stop me, I grab some glittering powder, step into the flames and throw the powder down, and yell "DIAGONALLY!"
And no, I don't have a problem with magical fire like this, I know it won't hurt me.
I shut my eyes as I spin round and round, and wait for it to stop. I jolt to a stop, almost falling on top of Harry, who's covered in soot.
I am too, probably....
"Emily," Harry says, "where are we?"
I look around, Harry and I are alone. We're standing by a stone fireplace of what look likes a large, dimly lit wizard's shop - but nothing in here is ever likely to be on a Hogwarts school list.
A glass case nearby holds a withered hand on a cushion, a blood-stained pack of cards and a staring glass eye. Evil-looking masks leer down from the walls, an assortment of human bones lie on the counter and rusty, spiked instruments hang from the ceiling.
"We should get out of here," I mutter and Harry nods. We make our way towards the door, but before we get halfway to the door, I pull Harry back.
"Malfoy's out there," I whisper, and spotting a large black cabinet to my left, I shoot inside it, pulling Harry in with me, and shut the doors to, leaving a small crack to peer through.
Seconds later, a bell clangs, and Malfoy steps into the shop. The man who follows him has the same pale, pointed face and identical cold grey eyes: Lucius Malfoy. Mr Malfoy crosses the shop, looking lazily at the items on display, and rings a bell on the counter before turning to his son and saying, "Touch nothing, Draco."
Malfoy, who was reaching for the glass eye, says, "I thought you were going to buy me a present."
Stuck-up little shit.
"I said I would buy you a racing broom," says his father, drumming his fingers on the counter.
Yeah, Draco, he told you he was going to buy a broom, God!
"What's the good of that if I'm not in the house team?" says Malfoy, looking sulky and bad-tempered. "Harry Potter and Emily Swift got Nimbus Two Thousands last year. Special permission from Dumbledore so he could play for Gryffindor. Potter's not even that good, it's just because he's famous ... famous for having a stupid scar on his forehead ..."
He didn't say anything about me.... AM I NOT GOOD ENOUGH FOR YOU! Maybe he thinks I'm a good player? Because I obviously am!
Malfoy bends down to examine a shelf full of skulls. "... everyone thinks he's so smart, wonderful Potter with his scar and his broomstick -"
"You have told me this at least a dozen times already," says Mr Malfoy, with a quelling look at his son.
Ah, he talks about Harry at home! How sweet!
"And I would remind you," Mr Malfoy carries on, "that it is not - prudent - to appear less than fond of Harry Potter, not when most of our kind regard him as the hero who made the Dark Lord disappear - ah, Mr Borgin."
A stooping man appears behind the counter, smoothing his greasy hair back from his face.
"Mr Malfoy, what a pleasure to see you again," says Mr Borgin in a voice as oily as his hair. "Delighted - and young Mister Malfoy, too - charmed. How may I be of assistance? I must show you, just in today, and very reasonably priced -"
"I'm not buying today, Mr Borgin, but selling," says Mr Malfoy. "You have heard, of course, that the Ministry is conducting more raids." He takes out a roll of parchment from his inside pocket and unravels it for Borgin to read. "I have a few - ah - items at home that might embarrass me, if the Ministry were to call ..."
Borgin fixes a pince-nez to his nose and looks down the list. "The Ministry wouldn't presume to trouble you, sir, surely?"
Mr Malfoy's lip curls. "I have not been visited yet. The name Malfoy still commands a certain respect, yet the Ministry grows ever more meddlesome. There are rumours about a new Muggle Protection Act - no doubt that flea-bitten, Muggle-loving fool Arthur Weasley is behind it -"
Both Harry and I stiffen. Bitch say what?
"- and as you see, certain of these poisons might make it appear -"
"I understand, sir, of course," says Borgin. "Let me see ..."
"Can I have that?" interrupts Draco, pointing at the withered hand on its cushion.
Rude little shit face...
"Ah, the Hand of Glory!" says Mr Borgin, abandoning Mr Malfoy's list and scurrying over to Draco. "Insert a candle and it gives light only to the holder! Best friend of thieves and plunderers! Your son has fine taste, sir."
"I hope my son will amount to more than a thief or a plunderer, Borgin," says Mr Malfoy coldly.
SHOTS FIRED!
Borgin tries to speak up but Mr Malfoy cuts across him. "Though if his school marks don't pick up, that may indeed be all he is fit for."
BANG BANG! YOU JUST GOT SERVED!
"It's not my fault," retorts Draco. "The teachers all have favourites, Swift and that Hermione Granger -"
"I would have thought you'd be ashamed that a girl of no wizarding family beat you in every exam," snaps Mr Malfoy.
"Ha!" Harry mutters.
Why didn't he mention me? Does he not like me! Le gasp!
"It's the same all over," says Borgin, in his oily voice. "Wizard blood is counting for less everywhere -"
"Not with me," says Mr Malfoy.
No one gives a fuck what you care about.
"No, sir, nor with me, sir," says Mr Borgin, with a deep bow.
It's a stupid bow. Why you bowing? WHHYYYY?
"In that case, perhaps we can return to my list," says Mr Malfoy shortly. "I am in something of a hurry, Borgin, I have important business elsewhere today."
Not really in a hurry. You've been gossiping for the last ten minutes.
They start to haggle. I watch as Draco draws nearer and nearer to our hiding place, examining the objects for sale. He pauses to examine a long coil of hangman's rope and to read, smirking, the card propped on a magnificent necklace of opals: Caution: Do Not Touch. Cursed - Has Claimed the Lives of Nineteen Muggle Owners to Date.
Draco turns away and see the cabinet right in front of him. He walks forward ... he stretches out his hand for the handle ...
Shit, shit, shit....
"Done," says Mr Malfoy from the counter. "Come, Draco!"
THANK THE GODS!
"Good day to you , Mr Borgin, I'll expect you at the manor tomorrow to pick up the goods."
The moment the door closes, Mr Borgin drops his oily manner.
"Good day yourself, Mister Malfoy, and if the stories are true, you haven't sold me half of what's hidden in your manor ..."
Muttering darkly, Mr Borgin disappears into a back room.
Well, that was a pleasant conversation now, wasn't it?