Lucy Riddle and the Boy Who Lived

The Stinky Barn Owl

Chapter Two

Lucy was on her bed, lying with her hands behind her head and a second-hand spell book her parents had given her when she turned eleven — Defense Against the Dark Arts, Grade 1. She's had it for four years now, and the book couldn't be more well-worn. The spine was about to fall out, but luckily there was Muggle tape lying around the house. As her father says, "The Muggle's inventions are just like magic!" It's a shame that she never was able to perform any spells that were in the book, with no wand and all.

She knew her dad loved Muggle inventions. He loved anything Muggle, really. He still had his volumes of Muggle textbooks from his school days, all locked up in a safe that he claimed was ingenious ("These . . . safes are magnificent! Why don't all wizards buy things like this, Honey?").

Lucy wanted to sleep, but she was afraid of the nightmares. They used to be so bad that her parents tried to find a therapist who could help her with her fears. She didn't really who she was scared of. There was always this shadow — a cloaked person — who would follow her around and . . . and send Cruciatus curses at her. The pain . . . it felt almost . . . real.

Her grandmother told her lots about the Wizarding world. That there was a government, just like Muggles have one, and schools that her grandmother used to attend to. Lucy could not quite remember the name; it always slipped out of her mind, but hearing about it made her wish she could go there. Her parents never mentioned it.

She remembered a particular story that always clung to her mind whenever she thought about wizards and witches. It happened when she was nearly one years old. You-Know-Who — though Lucy always liked to acknowledge him by his name, Voldemort — went to seek out for Harry Potter for some odd reason that, to this day, no one knows for certain why he hunted down baby Potter. You-Know-Who killed both Lily and James Potter before he came to Harry, but he couldn't quite kill him. For some odd reason, Harry survived the killing curse — her grandmother showed her how it worked — and You-Know-Who left the house, powerless. All there was on Harry was a permanent lightning scar.

You-Know-Who — in other words, Voldemort — was a powerful wizard that everyone feared. He killed to get what he wanted. He had loyal champions known as the Death Eaters. No one has defeated him or witnessed him to tell the tale except for, of course, Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. There was only one person who Voldemort feared most and that was Albus Dumbledore. He was the headmaster of the school — was it Hogwarts? Her grandmother always said it was an honor to serve the Dark Lord; she did herself, and showed Lucy the permanent Dark Mark on her left wrist.

Lucy quickly sat up, her book falling off her bed in the process, and stilled. She heard yelling downstairs and knew instantly that her parents were arguing about something. It has to be about another Muggle invention. Her mother never liked her father playing around with those things. She said numerous times to him that he could hurt himself but his father, stubborn as ever, never listened.

The thing was: She had always thought she didn't belong to her family. She doesn't have any of the same features as her parents. None of her parents friends has ever thought that Lucy looked like them. In the bathroom, she'd take looks in the mirror and not see any traces of her mother or father in her face.

Her mother and father's heated argument could be heard from her bedroom, all the way upstairs. There was a gigantic vent under her bed that was connected to the kitchen. She took trips to the kitchen that way, and her mother always scolded her. Her father would always ask if he could take a turn through it, but with one look from her mum was enough of an answer for him.

"RODOLPHUS, IF YOU BRING THAT SKUNK INSIDE THIS HOUSE I WILL PERSONALLY KICK YOU OUT," her mother screamed.

Lucy jumped out of bed, crawling her way through the kitchen. She popped out of the vent, scaring her mother, and put her hands out in front of her to stop her father from bringing the skunk any further. "Dad, put that skunk back outside. Mum will kill you in a minute's time."

"Blimey, if I'd known you two would act this way, I wouldn't have transfigured this owl," Dad muttered, and switched the black and white skunk to a barn owl. It stuck its leg out, hooting at the ladies. It pecked Dad angrily in the head a couple times and took off once Lucy untied the piece of parchment.

"Open it, sweetie," her mother said eagerly. She was nearing closer and closer to her daughter, the smiles on her parents faces growing bigger by the second. Lucy was wondering what was so important about the parchment.

She unrolled it, scanning her eyes over the words. Lucy reread the letter aloud:

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Head Master: Albus Dumbledore
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Ms. Lucy Merope Riddle Donavon,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall (Deputy Headmistress)

There was a second sheet attached to the first one, listing all her school supplies; there were only two items that she'll require: The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 5 by Miranda Goshawk and Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard.

Her mother was the first to break the silence. "So, what do you think? Your father and I agreed that it was time you attended Hogwarts. I know it's really late, but I know for sure that you'll do fine. You have power like no other, Lucy."

Her eyes stung with unshed tears. "Oh, this is wonderful! I'll be going to the school Gran always told me about!"

"Tomorrow," her father added, "we're going to Diagon Alley to find you a new wand and broomstick! Will you go on a date with me, Trix?"

He turned around, playing around with the new telephone he bought from a stranger on the street on his way home from work. Her mother was shaking her head disapprovingly. When she found it in the house a few days ago, she thought it was a bomb and disarmed him with an "Expelliarmus!" that sent him flying across the kitchen and hitting the furthermost wall.

"I wonder if there's some kind of 'Perfect Husband' potion I don't know about."