Dysfunctional

62 - The Snake's Eye

"Kill him!" Harry heard himself screeching in a cold voice.

His vision bloomed into colour and Harry watched a large black dog right in front of his eyes, leaping out of the way just as Harry moved to sink his teeth into him. When he turned, he felt jaws clamped on his tail. Enraged and in pain, he thrashed him with his injured tail, feeling satisfaction when the dog whined in pain. The Animagus bounded out of the room and Harry gave chase, wanting nothing but to see it dead.

When Harry attacked again, he missed the dog's neck for which he had been going for by a hair's breadth, but felt triumph when he sunk his fangs into its shoulders instead. Warm, delicious blood gushed from beneath flesh and intending to finish the dog, which had turned into a man again, once and for all, he reared when the unthinkable happened. A wand had jumped into the man's hand in the blink of an eye and he bellowed, "Avada Kedavra!"

Harry saw the green rushing towards him, and felt it hit him with the force of an iron-clad punch, when there was no more.

oOo

Hestia scribbled on the scroll of parchment, striking out and revising a few bungling sentences by the anonymous writer, whose manuscript she had been assigned. Working as a copyeditor for the better part of a decade, Hestia usually managed to get most of her job done from her home. It served her well as she could spend a significant portion of her time researching or dabbling in other subjects that she found profoundly fascinating than proofreading a handbook about Fifty Venomous Toadstools and Their Uses in Potion-Making and the ilk.

Since Gwen came to stay with her however, Hestia was unable to spend much time doing what she loved. While it had only been a few weeks since she moved in temporarily, the added company was getting to her. Gwen, who was usually engaged in training for the better part of her time and the rest spent in parties and luncheons and fan events, was utterly bored by the lack of it all.

"Why don't we go to a pub tonight?" asked Gwen, who was lying flat on the couch with her legs propped up against the armrest. Hestia was so absorbed in her work that she did not respond to her comment immediately.

Gwen scoffed. "It's like talking to a brick wall," she grumbled. "I bet you wouldn't even hear me if I said I'm going to kick that idiotic cat of yours."

Hestia lifted her head up by a fraction to look at Newt, who was curled up against Hestia's leg with his eyes closed. "Don't be mean to him," she remarked offhandedly.

"Your cat decided to throw up all over my bathtub this morning," griped Gwen. "It's having it out for me."

"He does not take well with anyone, not just you" said Hestia consolingly. "You shouldn't take it personally, Gwen; it didn't mean anything, did it, Newt?" she addressed her beloved pet, which woke up and stretched lazily.

Newt gave a soft meow and Hestia smiled in approval. Gwen eyed the cat warily, "He isn't even sorry he did it, the little monster."

Hestia could not blame Gwen for her resentment towards Newt, for her cat did seem to go out of his way to annoy her in some manner since she had arrived. Hestia could not get him to stop it either and she was resigned to the fact that she would have to live with their mutual hostility under her roof. Hestia finished her work and cleared up the writing desk, yawning and stretching herself. "I think I'm going to retire for the night."