like a redheaded stepchild

Chapter 8: Rolled a 1 on that Perception check

Chapter 8: Rolled a 1 on that Perception check

Number 4 Privet drive had, at one point, been entirely normal. The hedge had been trimmed exactly right, the garden had been lovely, and lawn well maintained. Now, it was an overgrown wreck. Normally, the neighbors would have complained about it, but they were so thoroughly enjoying the slow spiral into insanity that was plaguing Vernon and Petunia Dursley that no one had so far.

"Those little ruddy bastards," Vernon panted, polishing his shotgun. "One of them peeks his head up, I'm ready. Oh yes, I'm ready. I'll blow it off, oh yes I will. Unnatural little creatures, no right to be here! It's That Boy's fault. It has to be! Oh, I'll fix them, I'll fix them all, oh yes."

For her part, Petunia had taken to trying to get a picture of the gnomes so that the exterminators would stop laughing every time she called. "Look lady, if your garden is infested with foul mouthed little men, maybe you should kick the kids out and tell your husband to stop swearing at them, alright?"

There was a rustle in the grass, and Veron swung his shotgun, ready to blast away. There was a sound like snapping fingers, and the shotgun floated away, out of Vernon's hands. "No! Get back here! I will not tolerate this! There will be no unnaturalness in this house! Get back here right now!"

Shaking his head, Dobby snuck past the red bellowing muggle who was lecturing his firearm. Dobby wanted nothing to do with Harry Potter's mad relatives.

"Oh great master, are you still here?" Dobby whispered as he approached the magic box.

The fat boy infront of it grunted and stirred, empty snack wrappers falling off his massive belly. "What?"

"Oh, it is good to be seeing you is safe sirs!" Dobby cried, rushing forward and embracing the fat boy. For his part, the fat boy seemed utterly perplexed by this.

"Dobby was making you some treats sir, since yous was not going back to awful Hogwarts where elves are cooking the most wonderful meals!" With a snap of his fingers, Dobby brought forth a spectacular chocolate cake.

Dudley Dursley grunted and began to eat. After a moment, he paused and eyes the odd little creature, his face coated with chocolate frosting. "Thanks. This is, um, good. Very nice. Thanks." Then he went back to stuffing himself.

"The Great Master Sir is complimenting Dobby's cooking! Oh, happy day!" Dobby sighed, clutched his chest, and vanished. Dudley just want back to eating his cake, while his father continued to yell at his firearm, which by now was floating away over the hedge.

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"I officially call this meeting of SPEW to order," Hermione declared banging her gavel.

Ron raised his hand, and Hermione nodded to him. "So are we really going with SPEW as a name? It's pretty awful."

Hermione sniffed and stuck her nose in the air. "I don't recall you offering any better ideas when we were brainstorming, Ronald."

"I think it fits," Penelope said. "Lockhart makes me want to spew."

"All in favor of keeping the name SPEW?" Hermione said. Everyone but Ron raised their hand. "All opposed?" Ron raised his hand, looked around, then muttered something under his breath and lowered it.