Well, Hello again so soon! I'm still on mid-term so I thought I'd write this while I had the chance! I had a great response to the first chapter, so thanks to everyone who reviewed, really and truly. That's really why I'm writing this chapter now- I get such a buzz from reviews… It's motivation. Anyway, without further ado from your resident raving lunatic…
When, eventually, the train pulled up in Little Whinging Train station, our five travellers dragged themselves off, green, semi-conscious and cursing British Rail. They stood on the platform, shaking slightly and letting out relieved breaths and watched the train disappear from sight.
It might have looked like a scene from the Railway Children, except for, instead of waving happily at the departing train they were (more realistically) shaking their fists violently, Ginny hopping around with rage. She was in that tricky angry stage between inebriation and sobriety.
Hermione and Tonks ran over to the nearest dustbin, and began chucking their guts up violently. The combination of the sights, smells and motion of the train was bound to cause such a reaction. The entire experience was worthy of the attention of Amnesty International, or so Tonks croaked as she slid down the wall of the train station, waves of nauseousness threatening to overcome her again.
She took another homemade cigarette from the pocket of her ripped jeans and lit it with shaking hands, closing her eyes blissfully as she took a drag. She passed it to Hermione, who accepted gratefully and passed it on to Ginny when she was done. They sat on the ground between the bin and a bench that was occupied by other travellers who were relieving their stress in similar ways, and sighed simultaneously.
When Hermione and Tonks and Ginny had collected themselves (to a certain extent), they collected Ron and Luna (from a nearby bathroom) and proceeded to make their way to Privet Drive.
It was but a short stroll from the station to the suburban estate and, enjoying the "fresh" air, they cut across the local park. Idiots. But, luckily, they were only mugged twice, both times by a different group of twelve year olds who were shocked beyond belief when Tonks suddenly flashed them.
She pulled up her top with a 'look over 'ere lads'. They stood, transfixed at the sight of her breasts, with there eyes opened widely. Then Tonks began to morph. She got older and older, and wrinklier and wrinklier. The force of gravity came into apparent effect. The boys screamed like babies and ran for their mummies.
The group of travellers began to laugh like they had never laughed before, falling to the ground, their sphincter muscles working harder than ever, but finding it increasingly harder to deal with the strain. Luna was the first to lose it.
When, at last, they began to draw nearer to Harry's house, they began to hear the beats of extremely loud music thumping their eardrums into submission. As they got closer, they could feel the bass notes reverberating through the ground and up their legs, not altogether too unpleasantly.
Ron, Ginny and Luna, not having had any muggle interaction, clung to each other in fear. Well, seeing as how they had just experienced the horrors of the muggle rail system, the fear was like a pavlovian response to anything muggle. Sadly, it was quite a justified reaction.
Hermione walked toward the source of the music. To her surprise, the found the source of the racket to be the garden of number four- Harry's house. She knocked on the front door of the house, ignoring the doorbell, as is the English way.
After a minute's wait, the door creaked open an inch to reveal the eye of a woman. It swiveled around in a manner reminiscent of mad-eye-Moody. The obviously completely neurotic woman opened the door further to talk to Hermione. She was scrawny and horsy looking. This could only have been Harry's aunt Petunia, she thought. The woman fit all of Harry's descriptions, but something seemed odd about her demeanor.
She was dressed in only a fluffy pink dressing gown and pink furry slippers, and held a lit cigarette in one hand. Her eyes were open more that was probably healthy and she was smiling wildly as if to (try to) say: Medication? Whatever gave you that idea!
She hid her cigarette behind her back, and Hermione began to speak loudly above the loud rock music.
'Hello, my name is Hermione Granger', she bellowed. Petunia listened closely, her hand cupped behind her ear, the better to hear. 'I'm a friend of Harry's. Is he in?'
Petunia's face fell at mention of the name Harry and she took a deep drag from her cigarette, pulling at her hair desperately with the other hand. 'In?' She shrieked madly, her eyes bulging even more. 'In? Yes, he's "in". Who else would be making such a racket! In the garden, no less! Girls calling him every hour of the day and night! Out at rock concerts till all hours! He's an embarrassment, the little shit!' Petunia rambled, shutting the door dramatically as she finished her tirade.
Hermione stood there gawking at the closed door, mouth open, and wondering if they were talking about the same Harry. Her shock wearing off, she made her way around the side if the house to the back garden, followed by her motley crew. She pushed open the high wooden gate and stepped through. The music was so loud in here; she could feel blood trickling from her poor abused ears.
She winced and walked further into the garden. She turned a corner and her eyes opened as wide as Petunia's had. Her jaw dropped and she flung her right arm out to stop Ginny, who was approaching from behind. Ginny's reaction was identical. She flung her arm out to stop Tonks who bumped in to it. She began to protest but shut up when she followed Ginny's gaze. She flung her arm out to stop Ron and Luna, and didn't notice when they didn't bump into it.
So there the three of them stood, eyes wide, jaws on the lawn and arms out. They gulped simultaneously.
The reason for this was that, before them, was Harry Potter. He was beating the living shit out of a large punching bag hanging from a tree. The music came from his stereo on a windowsill.
He was dressed in nothing but a pair of old jeans.
Harry beat the punchbag frantically and mercilessly, grinning in a disturbing manner.
Hermione recognised the song and knew at once why it would mean a lot to Harry.
Change everything you are
And everything you were
Your number has been called
Fights and battles have begun
Revenge will surely come
Your hard times are ahead
Jesus, he must be really fucked up, thought Hermione, as she saw Harry smile insanely at the word revenge. But her concern was predictably and almost immediately replaced with lust, as she saw a bead of sweat trickle down his toned chest. She whimpered.
The unfortunate punching bag was in for it when the chorus began to blare. Harry, wearing no shoes, socks or shirt, kicked and punched the bag with practice ease, as if it were a karate lesson, as he sang along to the song.
Best, you've got to be the best
You've got to change the world
And use this chance to be heard
Your time is now
She felt a tug on her sleeve and looked at Ginny, who had tugged it. Ginny pointed to the garden fence, and Hermione's eyes followed. There, lined up above the fence like ducks for shooting in a fairground competition, were the heads of about a dozen girls, their tongues practically lolling and tugging at their collars periodically. Hermione raised her wand and aimed, smiling evilly. Ginny pushed her wand arm down, without looking at her. Hermione frowned.
Harry had not noticed Hermione, Ginny and Tonks, and they backed a few paces away without being seen. At that moment, a pretty girl came running through the back door into the garden. She marched over to the stereo and turned it off. Harry didn't have a chance to react before she was right between him and the punching bag. She licked her lips hungrily and obviously so, and ran her hands along (an obviously uncomfortable and mildly scared) Harry's chest. She looked up through her lashes at Harry shyly.
'Prostitute', Hermione muttered darkly, aiming her wand again. Ginny pushed her hand slowly downward making soothing noises.
'So, Harry', the overly made-up girl purred seductively to (an increasingly terrified) Harry. 'I've been calling you all day, you know'. Harry backed away. He obviously did know, all right. 'I was wondering', she purred again, 'if you're doing anything tonight'.
Harry slumped with relief. 'Actually, I've got a gig at the hall tonight', he said casually and deeply. He grabbed his t-shirt from the windowsill and pulled it on without delay.
'Well, I'll be there so', replied the girl, more sweetly. 'As your date'.
'Emma!' Harry exclaimed, backing away as she advanced towards him, her hands clasped in excitement and her face shining with glee. 'You will most certainly not be there as my date. I'm not going to go out with you Emma', he said, as kindly as he could. But then he muttered 'you fucking psychopath', under his breath.
Harry was making his way to the back door hurriedly when Emma stormed passed him and blocked the door. 'That girl, at your school', she said suggestively. 'You know, the one you always talk about in your sleep?'
OK, thought Harry to himself. She watches you sleep. Run away.
It was at this point that Emma collapsed to the ground, and Hermione, Ginny and Tonks emerged from their hiding place, triumphantly holding their wands.
At the fence, the girl perverts' eyes rolled upwards before their heads disappeared from sight followed by dull thuds as their bodies hit the ground.
The local GP would later be subject to investigation owing to the amount of anti-psychotic medication prescribed in one day.