Next he was with Ms. Sanderson of number five with a cup of Earl Grey.
"You never get a moment's peace with them always lurking about," she said, glancing at the window. "She's the worst; always trying to spy on me, she is. We call her 'the Giraffe' around here for a reason. None of my male friends or coworkers can come over without it being twisted into some salacious gossip. My brother visited last year and stayed the night and you wouldn't believe what she made of that!"
The story got worse with Abby Abrams of number three; though the tea was this nice fruity infusion he didn't catch the name of.
"He's really small - not like the great fat lump of theirs - and you never see him outside unless it's to slave away for hours. I tried to bring him lemonade once but she got to it before he ever saw me; I don't know if she gave it to him or not. And I can't prove anything," she said in a whisper, "but I think they hit him. I wanted to say something, but what if I'm wrong?"
Mr. Tuttle across the way had no tea, or tact.
"They say he's a criminal, but I say they're all a bunch of freaks," he said with a glower. "The fat man's always showing off, like we care. No one wants them here - or you - now shove off."
It was hard not to sway when he found himself back in his own skin and looking down at the Dursleys again, so he settled on some quick blinking instead. "How's that for 'freaks'?" Lester asked.
They had a look on their faces of abject humiliation. Petunia abandoned her fleshy husband and ran to peek through the curtains.
"They're watching us," she said in a hushed breath, "they're judging us. How can we be freaks? We're perfectly normal."
"Abnormally normal," the pink-haired Tonks corrected.
"I'm not fat," the pig-boy said unconvincingly. "Mummy, say I'm not fat!"
"Get me up!" the fat man on the floor cried, his face turning purple as he struggled against the ropes. "We're going away! Far away! Where we'll find normal people to live with and won't have to put up with this nonsense!"
"And what makes you think that'll save you from us?" Lester said somewhat menacingly, though now that he was resolved to let the Ministry have the man most of the bark had gone out of him.
"Quit poking the muggles and let's go," Moody growled to him. "When they come for you, I advise you to go quietly," he said to the fat man before stumping off.
Lichfield grunted. As much as he'd like to keep tormenting them, all it'd mean was he was as foul as they were. He glanced over to Tonks and headed for the door, leaving her to get in the last word.
"You have a - nice house," she said haltingly at the door. "Very clean."
Moody was outside waiting on them. It wasn't until the door to number four was closed and they started walking back that she turned to them again.
"I still don't get why we were here," she said curiously. "Was it the goblins or the letter… the kid? And what kid is it? It can't be that one. You don't call aurors for something like this."
"Yeah?" Lester asked, "Then who do you call when a troll's terrorizing a little wizarding kid? You'd be surprised at how much damage one bad guardian can do."
Pinky looked over at Moody. "D.M.L.E. or one of the ones that deal with muggles?"
He smiled, letting her know she's just at the tip of the problem as he pulled his bowler back down over his eye. "Let me guess, sit on it?" he asked Lester.
"A few more days at least, if not longer," he said. "Let the muggles sweat a bit. The beginning of school might be best for him but this story will get out sooner or later on its own. The kid's well away from here and everyone's likely to have our hands full soon. If I get my way he'll never be coming back here. This little bit should insure that, at least."
"It still doesn't answer my question," Pinky said as they reached a safely shaded spot and Moody cast temporary charms to make them unnoticed. "What kind of kid would be raised in that house if they had a bailiff who could rain trouble down on them?"
He looked at her wryly. "You're not in school anymore, you're going to have to learn to use this," he said tapping her forehead, before zigzagging his finger in a lightning bolt along it.
She backed her head away and swatted his finger aside like she'd never been picked on before - before her brain caught up and started to make the little leaps needed to put everything together. Pinky darted a glance back at number four before stating the obvious.
"Those people will be torn apart, even if the Ministry doesn't do it."
"That's the plan!" Lester smiled, before disappearing with a crack!
...
The early morning sun peeking through her windows made Ginny feel so much better. Telling everything to Tom had really helped and she had slept like - well, she couldn't remember the last time she had slept so well, or been up so early. It was nice having someone to talk to.
He had also given her a plan. It wasn't much of a plan, but it seemed more likely to succeed than anything she'd been able to come up with. No more would she be moping about hoping Harry would realize what it meant, she was going to be doing something.
Full of energy, Ginny got dressed - just simple everyday clothes, she wasn't out to impress anyone. There was no one's opinion that mattered but hers. And Tom's, but Tom was actually nice. She briefly considered pulling her hair back into a ponytail, but she really only did that when she snuck out to break into the broom shed and go flying, so she ditched the idea.
Grabbing her copy of the Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1 - and then doubling back to snatch the-diary-that-was-Tom out of one of her hide-a-book places by her bed - Ginny left her room. On the way down she discovered that Tom fit easily inside the back cover of her textbook, the old binding loose enough to give it enough give to make it look natural.
Right in the middle of the living room she saw a rather odd sight. Her mother stood scrutinizing every inch of the place as she slowly turned on the spot. Confused, Ginny looked around the room too. She didn't see what was so strange about it. It was clean… very clean; cleaner than she'd ever seen it before, actually, and tidier than even her mother's most frantic 'I've-got-to-fix-everything-in-the-house-today-or-I'll-go-mad' days had ever done.
Suddenly things didn't seem quite so homey anymore. The more she thought on it the more eerie it got. Things were too tidy, too clean. Was this what having a house-elf was going to be like? If it was, it just didn't seem right without a little mess. Her mother must've thought so too since she reached out to lower one side of the blanket which was draped over the back of the couch just a touch, moved an old vase about an inch to the left, and pulled a few of the books on the shelf out of alignment - only to poke the last one back to where it was before.
.....
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