Author’s Note! I really hope whomever reads this enjoys it! My goal is to earn many laughs from my readers with hopes of making their day a good one! Many thanks to Luna and my sister, Sara, whom have motivated me to create this story. And many cookies goes to reviewers!
Edited! July 13, 2010
Owls are the worst. Everything about them causes my left eye to twitch. From their inflated heads to their piercing calls - it’s enough to frighten anyone really. The very knowledge of their existence makes me break out. So if it isn’t obvious, bless you, and allow me to shorten my rant into smaller words: I abhor owls. Lots.
Dad says they’re nothing to be afraid of but I beg to differ.
Since I was a wee first year, owls kept me company in Hogwarts. Not in the likeable way either. No, owls hate me. Anything that flies does. Even my owl boggart was confounded. It pecked viciously at its cabinet, refusing to face me. I received five points for my house that day. But any road, it was fact that anything animal, alive, and living was my mortal enemy.
I now strongly believe Merlin is angry with me.
When I told this to my dad, he laughed. It was rude of him really. He should not even have a clue who Merlin is! Dad is a Muggle and I’ve only mentioned Merlin once, if not at all. But he continues to laugh and I am left glaring daggers at him. Is he frightened? Not at all.
Brilliant.
“Shut your cakehole!” I order childishly. Dad continues to roar in laughter. If he had been wearing a personally customized anti-owl shirt like I had, I wouldn not have taken him seriously either. I give him a few minutes to return to the former sweet and respectable father that I love. Minutes later, he doesn‘t. “For crying out loud,” I interrupt him, “people are staring!”
We look around to find wizards and witches nearest to us staring at the barmy bloke which is Dad. Some grin at my father’s infectious laugh while others roll their eyes in silent amusement.
I have no idea how he does it, capture the world’s attention I mean. Dad has quite a charmer’s smile and an equally wonderful personality… but to seize someone’s thoughts for even a second and win it over with a mere laugh? It's a wonder he’s not married.
But any who, just as I was about to put down my foot - and yes, I do that. It has surprisingly wonderful effects - I turn to my left and nearly choke on my ice cream. My breathing stops. My left eye twitches. The world is spinning. King’s Cross seems even farther away.
It’s the devil’s spawn.
And I am not speaking of Lucius Malfoy.
If I only had the bravery of a Gryffindor or the knowledge of a Ravenclaw to rid my fear of owls... I’ll even take on the cunningness of a Slytherin because surely there is a cure. There must be a cure! It’s humiliating really. I have tried confronting a plastic toy owl and asked a friend even to dress himself as an owl to help me cope. Poor Peter. After I had attacked him with that fork, the bloke hadn’t talked to me since. Can’t say I blame him really…
Oh, I didn't say? I’m in the wonderful house of Helga. Helga Hufflepuff, house of the just and loyal. I hear talk about how cowardly and unimportant we are but that is a load of poo! Although we refuse to constantly break the regulations like Gryffindors or look down upon others such as Slytherins or keep our faces in ancient editions like Ravenclaws, we are below no one. I have nothing against the other houses. They just aren’t my cup of tea. I prefer being a Hufflepuff.
Higgs Baltimore of Hufflepuff. It has a nice ring to it, no?
Dad stops laughing and looks to my face with great concern. He meets my eyes and nods understandably, steering me away from the blasted owl of which I look down upon thee! Curse you animal! Curse you beast of malicious sins!
“There there,” Dad soothes, “All better?”
We are nearer to the train, remote from anything animal, when I nod and take several deeps breaths. “‘Course,” I answer, “now that you’ve stopped laughing at me.”
With an unusual straight face, Dad says, “I wasn’t laughing at you.”
“You are a bad liar,” I grin.
“And you’re about to be left behind if you don’t hurry your arse in that train.”
I tiptoe to hug my dad goodbye. Without another word, I grab my belongings and step onto the train. We said our farewells the day before and it makes going to Hogwarts easier. It was his idea of course. In fact, my dad is a smart man. I think I’ll keep him.
Careful not to lose my footing like I had last year, I recite instructions to myself. Mastering Footage For Idiots clearly states: left, right, left, right left, right. But all it took was a quick glance of a bloke in Gryffindor robes… a view of his envying blond-brown locks… a display of his polished prefect badge.
And my heart is taken.
I allow my belongings to fall with a thud. I hold a hand to my chest, begging it to cease its unbearable, erratic beating. I am ninety nine point nine percent sure that my heart had performed a front flip, a back flip, a side flip, and whatever other flips it can possibly do. The other one percent are my doubts. Could my heart actually do that? I lived in a world of magic so anything was possible.
I grin widely and wave my arms frantically. Before I can stop myself, I cry, “Remus, hi! Hi there! Over here! All right? I am brilliant! Summer was a blast! I tried owling you, but realized I didn’t own an owl. How silly of me! So what’s new? Yeah, alright! We can talk later!”
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