Jami Evans and the Sorcerer's Stone - Year 1

The Worst Type of Detention

"Back again, Miss Evans?" A familiar voice drawled as I sauntered into the detention room.

I gave Mr. Saville a fake-cheerful look. "Yes, sir. This place just can't seem to resist me and my good looks."

He snorted into his coffee, hiding a smile. Saville walked out from behind his desk and placed a stack of papers in front of me. I raised an eyebrow at him.

"The Sorcerer's Stone script. I'd like you to read it twenty times." He smiled nastily.

"But sir--" I looked horrified. "This is the movie script! We both know the movies suck!"

"Exactly." Saville walked away, leaving me staring at the papers with a sick expression.

Feeling queasy, I started to read, getting more nauseated every moment I read.

[It is nighttime in Surrey, we see two owls on the street sign "PRIVET DRIVE" and the camera pans to the street with very identical looking brown bricked houses. One the owls fly away to reveal a elderly man with crimson robes, and the long silvery white beard named Albus Dumbledore walks through a forest near the street. He takes out his deliminator and activates it. Dumbledore zaps all the light out of the lampposts. He puts away the device and a cat meows. Dumbledore looks down at the cat, which is a tabby and is sitting on a brick ledge.]

Dumbledore: I should have known that you would be here...Professor McGonagall.

[The cat meows, sniffs out and the camera pans back to a wall. We see that the cat's shadow progressing into a woman with a tall hat. There are footsteps and Minerva McGongall is revealed.]

McGonagall: Good evening, Professor Dumbledore. Are the rumours true, Albus?

Dumbledore: I'm afraid so, Professor. The good, and the bad.

McGonagall: And the boy?

Dumbledore: Hagrid is bringing him.

McGonagall: Do you think it wise to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?

Dumbledore: Ah, Professor, I would trust Hagrid with my life.

[There is a motor sound, and the two professors look up to see a flying motorcycle coming down from the air. It skids on the street and halts. A large man with shoulder length black hair and beard named Rubeus Hagrid, takes off his goggles.]

I rubbed my eyes as the image formed in my head. I was getting so tired...as if someone had injected a sleeping potion in me. The door to the detention room opened and closed but that sounded faded.

Hagrid: Professor Dumbledore, Sir. Professor McGonagall.

Dumbledore: No problems, I trust, Hagrid?

Hagrid: No, sir. Little tyke fell asleep just as we were flying over Bristol. Heh. Try not to wake him. There you go.

The image looked clearer as I gazed at the now blurring words of the script and scents became more aware in my nose. Such as the neighbor's freshly mowed lawn that he had done just a few hours ago.

[Hagrid hands a baby wrapped in a bundle over to Dumbledore.]

"This is the worst type of detention ever." I mumbled, and the three people jumped, gazing around for whatever they had heard. And with a sickening feeling, I knew deep down it was me they heard.