The Other Potter: Book 7

It's a hard knock life for me.

Okay, okay, so hang me. I disapparated without much thought to the consequences. I’m annoying and impulsive and lost.   Really fucking lost.

I’m in the middle of a shopping centre, and I don’t even think I’m in England anymore because all these people have really funny accents.

“Excuse me!” I shouted, because simply asking someone is overrated. “What country and I currently residing in?”

Everyone looked at me funny.

Shitters.

So I decided it was time to scream until someone came and asked what was wrong.

It took a whole 136 seconds for security to come.

“Ma’am, we’re going to have to ask you to leave,” some burly/fat guy in a black suit informed me.

“Wait, tell me what country I’m in first.” I said impatiently.  He exchanged a look with some other guard.

“Australia.” He said, raising his eyebrows.

I felt weird, so I jumped up and down.

“And what year is it?”

“2012.”

“Oh my god.” I said dramatically, covering my mouth.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, looking a mixture between confused and curious.

“IT WORKED! IT WORKED!” I shouted joyously, and I kissed him on the cheek. “I CAN TRAVEL THROUGH TIME!” I ran over to some random girl with awesome curly hair and grabbed her hands. “IT WORKED!”

“REALLY?” She shouted back, and we jumped up and down. “HEY JEN!” she called to her extraordinarily short friend in a shirt that said “Okay, Okay” in clouds.

“What Aya?” Jen called running over.

“IT WORKED!”

“YAY!” Jen shrieked, and then I ran away.

So apparently I was in Australia, but it didn’t look like Australia to me. I mean, the sky was overcast and looked like it was threatening rain, and it’s supposed to be spring here! Gosh, Aussies are always saying how hot it is here, but it’s all a lie!

“LIARS! LIARS!” I shouted at random Australians. “YOU SAID THE WEATHER WAS HOT HERE! LIARS!” All of a sudden, the clouds disappeared and the sun was shining down, and I was sweating like a pig. “Did I do that?” I asked aloud.

“Nah mate strewth. It’s da strayan weva luv.” Said some random bloke. (Translations for non-Australians: “Of course not dear. It is that darned Australian weather!”)

“Sorry?” I asked, missing all of what he’d said.

“It’s da straya wevva. Ya no, fa seezens in a day.” (Translations for non-Australians: “It is the Australian weather. You know, four seasons in one day!”)

“Are you even speaking English?” I asked him.

“Wot luv, ya pissed or somefin?” (Translations for non-Australians: “I’m sorry dear. I can’t understand why you are being rude to me. Are you intoxicated, Madam?”)

“I DON’T SPEAK AUSTRALIAN! LEAVE ME ALONE! DON’T HURT ME!” I shouted at him, and then I apparated in plain sight because I don’t even care anymore.

I think I was back in England because people sounded like they were actually speaking a language again, not just gibberish.

I am a racist little bitch.

Oh yes you are!

“Go away Lucy.”

“Go away Willow.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

“GOSH STOP FLIRTING WITH ME!”

“Lucy, that’s a different book.”

“Sorry.”

***

It took me a while, but I found a studio apartment to live in; it was small, but comfortable. I also realised that I needed money, or I would die. And this is how I wound up, standing in a supermarket checkout serving people.

I was acting under the name of ‘Eliza Fknuckle.’ And no one blinked twice.

“Hello, how are you?” I’d ask every customer. And the weird thing was: no one thought it was weird that I was like a broken record. They acted as though I was actually interested in their lives, despite knowing that I asked every person the same question.  

And then there were those people. You know, the ones who ask pointless questions about a product. For them, I’d go into full detail and enact a weird and wonderful story about how I came across the product whilst cleaning the floor, and how I was seduced by cookies.

I’m not sure what I’m talking about.

There were the whiners. “there is something wrong with this cheese.” “This product is wrong!”

Bastards.

Who the hell would willingly chose a job in customer service?

***

About a month passed and I’d worked 70 hours a week because I’m dedicated and shit.

Haha, jokes.

The pay was just so bad that I had to work a lot.

Anyway, I quit it after about a month because I knew I had to keep travelling. I mean, I’d served death eaters – hell, I’d served Umbridge as she wandered through with a clipboard trying to understand Muggles.

She didn’t recognise me because I had a perception filter on.

No, that’s not doctor who.

Shut up.

I used it anyway because it’s cool.

So, when I left I did something I am not proud of.

I stole.

A lot.

Of money.

And cookies, but they’re irrelevant.

I used a spell to duplicate it and left them with the duplicates.

They’re like leprechaun gold though, they disappear after a few weeks, so they’re gonna be mighty confused.

All the people that they give change to will have the same problem...

I feel bad, but I know there was something I did to counter this whole thing.

Right! Once the money disappears, there is a bit of paper left behind and it gives instructions to sign up for a website.

I’ll eventually pay everyone back.

Yah, I’m thoughtful.

There’s something important that I’m forgetting to say...

Oh yeah, so I’ve left and it’s newly september and there’s a castle in front of me, so I think I should enter it...

 ---

okay before you comment, if you're australian, don't get precious with me. I am Australian, and my favourite thing about Australians is they can laugh at themselves. now shut up. I've gotten heaps of shit for this chapter and I can't be bothered with it anymore. I dont care. go away.

if you weren't going to say how racist I was - I hope you enjoyed the chapter, lol