𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝; 𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐡.𝐩

𝓨𝓮𝓪𝓻 3, 𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 5: 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓓𝓮𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓸𝓻

~ chapter five: the dementor ~

hey, everyone. I'm back, after what has been a month. I'm super excited to be back and writing another chapter for you all, although updates on 'mine' and 'stereo hearts' will be slowed down significantly, because I am mainly going to be focusing on this book. at the rate this is going, I'm going to say it might be another full year until I finish this book? but it could always be sooner. it could also be later, too. this has been such a fun journey writing this for you all so far, and I hope you have just as much fun as reading it as I am with reading it. of course, I am always open to ideas, whether that might be yandere actions harry might do, or just normal ideas. what I will warn you about, though, is this year is when harry goes a little bit . . . crazy. and by crazy, I mean a quarter-way to off-the-rails crazy. it might not seem like it at first, but trust me, by the time you're, like, three-fourths into the chapter, you'll see exactly what I mean.

Tom woke me the next morning with his usual toothless trim and a cup of tea. I got dressed and was just persuading a disgruntled Hedwig to get back into her cage, Y/N stifling her laugh behind her hand, when Ron banged his way into the room, pulling a sweatshirt over his head and looking irritable.

"The sooner we get on the train, the better," he said. "At least I can get away from Percy at Hogwarts. Now he's accusing me of dripping tea on his photo of Penelope Clearwater. You know," Ron grimaced, "his girlfriend. She's hidden her face under the frame because her nose has gone all blotchy. . . ."

"We've got something to tell you," Y/N began, but we were interrupted by Fred and George, who has looked in to congratulate Ron on infuriating Percy again.

We headed down to breakfast, where Mr. Weasley was reading the front page of the Daily Prophet with a furrowed brow and Mrs. Weasley was telling Hermione and Ginny about a love potion she'd made as a young girl. All of them were rather giggly about it.

"What were you saying?" Ron asked us as we sat down.

"Later," Y/N muttered as Percy stormed in.

We had no chance to speak to Ron or Hermione in the chaos of leaving; we were too busy heaving all our trunks down the Leaky Cauldron's narrow staircase and piling them up near the door, with Hedwig, Hades and Hermes, Percy's screech owl, perched on top in their cages. A small wickerwork basket stood beside the heap of trunks, spitting loudly.

"It's all right, Crookshanks," Hermione cooed through the wickerwork. "I'll let you out on the train."

"You won't," snapped Ron. "What about poor Scabbers, eh?"

Mr. Weasley, who had been outside waiting for the Ministry cars, stuck his head inside.

"They're here," he said. "Harry, Y/N, come on."

Mr. Weasley marched us across the short stretch of pavement toward the first of two old-fashioned dark green cars, each of which was driven by a furtive-looking wizard wearing a suit of emerald velvet.

"In you get, you both," said Mr. Weasley, glancing up and down the crowded street.

We got into the back of the car and were shortly joined by Hermione, Ron, and, to Ron's disgust, Percy.

The journey to King's Cross was very uneventful compared with our trip on the Knight Bus. The Ministry of Magic cars seemed almost ordinary, though I noticed that they could slide through gaps that Uncle Vernon's new company car certainly couldn't have managed. We reached King's Cross with twenty minutes to spare; the Ministry drivers found us trolleys, unloaded our trunks, touched their hats in salute to Mr. Weasley, and drove away, somehow managing to jump to the head of an unmoving line at the traffic lights.