Magical Days - Pottertalia

Lizzy

"Never trust anything that can think for itself if you can't see where it keeps its brain."

Chapter 3

Dear Arthur,

I'm doing fine. I'll be going to London for my grandmother's funeral, and mom said I didn't have to go back to school for another two weeks after that. Maybe it's an idea we meet up in those two weeks, that'd be very soon (and if I'm completely honest, I don't feel like spending time with my family right now).

Thank you for your support, I needed it. I probably will often. You're an amazing friend, you know?

Your mother wanted the date, right? Dad said the funeral would be on the second of May. We'll be staying in London for a day before going back home, so is May third okay? 

I hope to hear your reply soon,

Love, Lizzy.

Arthur had read her reply many times, smiling brightly every single time he realized the third of May was getting closer every second. He'd written a letter back, saying May third sounded like a good plan, and that he was allowed to take her to school, if she wanted to. He'd asked everyone, his teachers, his parents, his classmates..

On the evening of the second of May, Arthur was busy cleaning his room, which was usually already fairly clean, but he wasn't quite statisfied. His books weren't sorted as he wanted them (his parents always sorted them on author, he always did on number of pages), his CD's were on his desk and not in the drawer, and his photographs were in the wrong order. If he was very honest with himself, he thought he should probably get checked on OCD.

It was an hour from when he started and he was only halfway.

"482... No, first this one..." he muttered to himself, as he was sorting the last set of books.

"And then there was a large jump- yep, 766. And then the last one, 792. Finally..." he breathed, putting the last book on the shelf. "There, that's better. Now the photographs... Why is this one in the middle, bloody hell. It should be at the beginning..."

"Dinner!" called his mother from downstairs. Arthur sighed and put the photograph where it belonged before slowly going downstairs. He didn't want to eat - he had to finish organizing his room. Elizabeta would arrive early tomorrow and he might not have the time to clean anymore, because she was going to school with him for the coming two weeks.

"What've ye been doin' upstairs?" asked Arthur's father curiously.

"Organizing my stuff as it should be," replied Arthur, "Because my books are sorted on number of pages, not on author's last name."

"Sorry, dear," said Arthur's mom, "My fault."

"What's for dinner?" asked Arthur, "It smells good... Wait, 's it fish and chips?"

"'Course it is, boy," said his dad.

"Yes," Arthur smirked triomphantically and he sat down.

Halfway dinner, Arthur's mom's phone rang. She frowned and answered it.

"Good evening, this is Valerie Kirkland," she said. Arthur couldn't hear what the reply was.

"Tonight? Oh, sure! That's no problem at all. ... Yes, Arthur's still cleaning his room. ... No, he's been very exited, I'm sure he won't mind. Arthur?"