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Chapter 1 : Typically Sneaky. not.
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Hope you like it!
Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter.
“CARLA SKEETER, GET YOUR BUM DOWN HERE!”
I sat up at once and groaned. That’s my mum over there, now trudging her way up to my bedroom. I pretty well knew that the sun was up and it was hitting my face but I continued to sleep hugging Puff, my pillow.
And yes, I name my pillows (actually, I just named one pillow but whatever).
Got a problem with that?
Mum burst into the door, hands over hips. Do you know Rita Skeeter? The blonde woman who wrote all about Albus Dumbledore and some previous headmasters? Well, she changed, married Constantine Holmes and got two children-the first one was Rupert, who ended up as a cursebreaker for Gringotts and the other was well, me. Get it all now? Yup, I’m Rita Skeeter Holmes’ daughter.
And trust me, it’s hard.
Well, one was the fact that I have to keep up with what my mum did before. Writing stuffs about people. It’s pretty hard because I’m not good at writing at all. Plus, a lot of people hate me also because of what my mum wrote. But really, she has stopped writing nasty things about people for years now. People change, you know.
“Sweetheart, I’ve been waking you up for the past fifteen minutes!” She said, taking an overall glance inside my room.
I’m twenty years old and I’m still living with my parents. Ever since I got kicked off at Auror training for failing in whatever that is (I think it’s Concealment and Disguise), Mum insisted on getting me a job at the Daily Prophet, doing what I do best, taking photos.
Actually, I’m one of the WPs, which stands for Wizarding Photographers.
But now, I got qualified at SP-Sneaky Paparazzi.
My life sucks.
“It’s too early, Mum” I whined, falling back down on my bed.
Mum gasped too sharply that I sat up at once, again. Ugh. Dramatic Old People.
“My dear!” she said, outraged, “The readers are not patient enough to wait, Carla! Be thankful you got a job, snapping photos behinds people backs…”
“Yeah, I’m starting to hate it every second,” I said exasperatedly, cutting her off. We always discuss this every morning. Even Dad gets pissed whenever she goes on ranting. I got off the bed and pushed my raging mum out of my room. “Know what mum? You don’t need to do this every time! The Prophet’s happy on what I’m giving them and I’m saving up for a flat in muggle London.”
I closed the door. That should do it.
“Oh and Daniel called!” Mum said through the door.
What?! Danny called?
I opened the door at once. “And?”
“Well, he said he’ll meet you at the Leaky Cauldron at nine-thirty…” Mum said, puffing up her short curls and examining her long red nails.
I took a glance at the clock.
“Mum! It’s already nine-fifteen!” I said frantically rushing to my closet to pick an outfit.
Mum shrugged. “I told you, I’ve been waking you up for the past fifteen minutes”
Maybe she’s changed but I still hate her.
I sat down beside my best friend since forever, Daniel Brocklehurst. Danny is cute. In fact, he’s too cute for a guy. I always thought he’s gay. But he almost kissed me when I told him. It was really creepy and I don’t want to talk about it.
“Finally, Car, you arrived!” he boomed out, ruffling my blonde hair. Well, it’s the only trait I got from my mum. The rest of me is purely dad’s traits.
“Sorry, Danny, rough morning,” I said, putting down my beloved camera, Tak, and taking a sip at the coffee I ordered.
“You mean Mrs. Skeeter ranting out again?” he said, amused
“It’s Mrs. Holmes,” I corrected. “And she’s been going on about how impatient the readers and pretty much on how my job sucks.” I added, shaking my head
“Well, have you heard about the Potters?”
I looked at him, sensing news.
“I think they’re going to—“
Whatever that is that Daniel thinks was cut off because suddenly the door of the pub opened and came in Harry Potter’s children, followed by the paparazzi. Well, job calls.
“Speaking of,” I grabbed my camera and waved at Daniel, who was furrowing his eyebrows on me.
“Yeah!” he called out “The BESTEST friend ever!”
Ah, that’s Daniel, my best friend.
But back to work. I continued to follow the crowd, snapping fervently at the Potters, who were quite used to the attention and was just hurriedly getting the hell out of there, entering at the nearest building. I’m sure I’ll hit big time now. Who knows? I finally get that nice flat I’d been saving up for half a year now! Ah, just hand a picture of the Potters and ka-ching! The Prophet obviously loves the Potters, and so is every wizarding magazine in the wizarding world.
Hey, I still love my job.
I sat there for two effing hours just to take a picture at that family! My butt hurts. And my neck’s stiff. Plus, I checked on the photos I’ve got and they completely suck. I guess I wouldn’t be getting my flat sooner.
I’ll just hand the photos of fighting Malfoys instead! They’re as interesting as the Potters. Ah, who am I kidding? The Malfoys fighting isn’t even worth the Potters strolling Diagon Alley!
I know, people are weird but trust me, that’s how it goes exactly in the Wizarding Press. I got yelled out a couple of times about arguing that other subjects are much more interesting than the Potters.
Maybe I’ll just head back to Daniel.
I stood up and headed at the Leaky Cauldron, passing at the interesting shops nearby. I always loved the Weasley Wizard Wheezes! They have such interesting and useful things! But of course, I stopped buying after Hogwarts. Merlin, I miss the school.
I miss the food, the halls, the moving staircase, Ravenclaw common room, kitchens, classrooms, the library, the pitch—
“OI, Watch it!” I yelled out to the blind person who knocked me over. I stood up furiously.
“Damn, I’m sorry!” he said, waving his arms off in apology like a lunatic.
Um, don’t tell. I always have a soft side for lunatics.
And don’t laugh.
I looked at him. He seemed to be covered out entirely from head to foot. Isn’t that a bit hot? I mean, it’s July. Oh Merlin, maybe he is a lunatic. Poor person.
“It’s okay. I’ll just see you around,” I said, giving him a comforting pat at the arm. He seemed shaking up a bit.
Man, he is a lunatic.
Wait, how many times did I say that?
I left him and went straight to the Leaky Cauldron in which there was no Danny. That thwart!
“Hey, Tommy!” I called out to the barman. “You seen Daniel?”
“He went to get a room,” he answered, chuckling
Ew! I certainly didn’t want to know that.
But on the meantime, I’ll just take pictures around. The pub seemed nice today.
I missed taking pictures. I missed using Tak for-WHAT THE HELL?! WHERE’S TAK?!
Oh no, I can’t lose Tak. I can’t! I have him since I was in first year! Tak’s my very best friend! I can’t lose him. NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! AND NO!
I rushed out outside where surprising a lot of people have been walking around. Please, Merlin, I’ll do everything you wish! Just give me back my Tak. Just give him back to meeeeeeeeeeeeee!
I went back frantically to where I sat up waiting for those stupid-never mind and looked for Tak. My other co-paparazzi have given up too and were nowhere to be seen. Maybe some of them took my camera! I’ve put a name in it! They can’t just take it, right?! RIGHT?!
I walked around, still looking for a camera with a shiny blue strap but none appeared!
“Accio Tak!” I cried desperately. Nothing. “Accio Carla Holmes’ camera!” Still Nothing. “Accio, Carla Skeeter Holmes’ camera named Tak!”
I felt a jerk but nothing came. I could feel tears swelling up in my eyes now.
Oh, Tak, where are you?!
I went home, eyes puffy and red from crying.
This is such a cursed life. I lost Tak; I have no photos of the Potters; I can’t buy the nice flat; I’m stuck in this house, blah, blah, blah.
“Sweetie-I made you a…” Mum stopped. “What’s wrong?!”
I burst again to tears. “Everything!” I yelled “I lost Tak, mum, TAK!”
Her eyebrows furrowed. “Who’s Tak?”
“AARGH! My Camera! Where I have all the photos I’m handing over to the Prophet to get finally get out of this house and buy myself a flat-the only thing that represents I’m independent!”
“Oh, you lost that old thing?” Mum said, going over to me and handing me a box.
I looked at her, sniffing the snot that was about to drip from my nose. EW, I’m disgusting.
“I made you a blueberry pie and got you a new camera.” She told me calmly, “That one was really old already.”
Okay, scratch that about how I still hate my mum. I think she’s the best mum in the world.
A/N: Yeah! Carla’s dramatic, right? But I know the feeling of losing something so valuable. I cried, too for days, actually where everyone was freaking out just to get me a new stuffed toy. Ha, I was six.
But anyway, please, please, please review!
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