Harriett Potter : The Wizard Wonder Tale (standard:fairy tales, 3328 words)
Author: Lady MacKenzie	Added: Sep 26 2000	Views/Reads: 3599/2245	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Long lost sister of Harry Potter (and a long line of wizards), Harriett Potter is determined to prove that she too is a wizard with special powers.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

slim figure. “Hi dad.” she muttered under her breath, still yawning. 
“What’s for breakfast?” 

He looked at her as if she was joking. “Whatever you want I suppose. I’m
too tired to actually cook anything. Maybe ask your mother.” he said, 
taking the last quick bites of his apple. 

Skye looked utterly disgusted.  After watching her father devour his
entire apple, she disappeared up the stairs, stomping loudly. 

Mr. McRode listened closely. He heard Skye’s footsteps lighten up as she
reached her room, just above the kitchen.  She had evidently went back 
to bed, disappointed that she did not wake up to a home-cooked 
three-course breakfast ready for her on the dining room table. 

Mr. McRode could hear the stairs creak.  He guessed that Mrs. McRode had
finished her shower and was now coming down for some breakfast.  He 
listened intently, his eyes fixed on the bottom of the stairs waiting 
for someone to appear.  Suddenly the light in the hall had been flipped 
on, and light cascaded over the dining room table.  He squinted his 
eyes, adjusting them to the sudden brightness.  A blunt voice spoke.  
“Hey pops, “ grunted the voice.  It was Blythe, his son.  His sister’s 
loud stomping had obviously awaked him.  He squinted his bright blue 
eyes, avoiding eye contact.  He had become of the age where he wanted 
nothing more than to forget where he lived, and move out.  Of course he 
still had two more years of high school left to complete, but he didn’t 
care.  He just wanted the luxury of living alone, away from his family. 


A strand of blond hair fell over his forehead and swept over his right
eye.  He looked up at it, cross-eyed, and quickly brushed it away.  
Slowly gliding across the tile floor over to the window, he noticed the 
clouds rolling in.  They looked thick and made everything appear 
darker.  He wondered if that meant his father wouldn’t be mowing lawns, 
and then he’d have to listen to him grunt about all his problems all 
day.  Of course he’d smile and nod, and silently fall asleep with his 
eyes open, pretending to listen. 

Mr. McRode quickly stood up, using the table for support.  He eyed
Blythe who was still looking out the window with great intent.  
Suddenly an owl swooped down, landing on the windowsill, it’s large 
yellow eyes glaring sadly at Blythe. Blythe jumped from his chair, his 
eyes bulging.  He stared at the owl for a few seconds before he noticed 
the cut on its side.  It wasn’t a very wide gash, but it was bleeding 
nonetheless.  There was nothing Blythe could do but continue to stare, 
as Mr. McRode looked on front behind him, his eyes somewhat glazed 
over. Before they could blink again, the owl had sped away into the 
thickness of the clouds. 

They both gazed back up into the endless cloudy sky wondering where the
owl had flown.  Had it flown off somewhere in search of its fellow 
owls?  Maybe it had soared off into the endless skies not knowing where 
it was going.  Perhaps it was terribly wounded, and had been frightened 
by the likes of Mr. McRode and Blythe, and glided off to a quick death. 
Whatever the case, it was gone now and quickly forgotten. 

Meanwhile, Mrs. McRode had finished up in the shower and strode into the
kitchen, her whispy hair tied back in its usual bun.  Her pouty lips 
poked out more than usual, and her face dropped when she saw that the 
core of the apple her husband had eaten had been left on the dining 
room table.  “Now who left this here?” she sneered, an ugly look 
devouring her face. 

She picked up the apple core and pitched it into the trash; the look of
disgust not yet wiped off her face.  “Figures you haven’t learned to 
pick up after yourself.  As much as I tell you to clean up your own 
mess, you still haven’t learned.” she muttered under her breath, 
glaring into her husband’s timid eyes. 

“There is no way I can be as perfect as you Rita.” he stammered.  “I
mean...er, what I’m trying to say is...well, nevermind.”  He turned 
towards the stairs, hoping to leave the room and avoid much 
confrontation. 

Her eyes began to tear up.  She had had her eyes on Blythe, watching him
peer out the window into nothingness, but now she couldn’t focus.  She 
wasn’t sure what they were arguing about or even why.  She opened her 
mouth to say she was sorry.  “I’m sorry honey.  I honestly don’t know 
what came over me.” 

He looked back at her from the bottom of the stairs, his eyes cold, and
gave a slight smile.  He hadn’t really acknowledged that she had said 
anything, just dismissed it so as to get on with his day. 

Upon reaching the top of the stairs, he turned left, and rounded the
white post railing.  He could hear the sounds of soft, soothing Celtic 
music getting louder as he approached the room just next to the master 
bedroom.  He assumed, by hearing the music, that Harriett was now 
awake.  Most likely awoken by Skye’s pounding stomps.  Either that or 
she heard Rita throwing a fit about the apple core. 

Harriett was now going on fifteen years old, but was only a baby when
the McRode’s had adopted her.  So the story goes that Harriett was born 
to a James and Lily Potter, but at the time they couldn’t afford to 
take care of her.  They wanted the best for her however, and put her up 
for adoption where they were positive a nice, loving family would take 
her in and care for her.  Shortly after being given up for adoption, 
James and Lily were killed.  The McRode’s are not even sure of the 
causes of their deaths.  The McRode’s had always wanted to adopt, even 
though they had two children of their own.  They thought that the 
experience would help them to expand horizons and help a child in need 
of love. So they adopted her.  Skye and Blythe were very young when 
they adopted Harriett, so as they grew up together, they treated each 
other just like any other brothers and sisters.  Harriett had been a 
nice addition to the family, and never really questioned much about her 
biological family up until this point. 

He tapped lightly on the slightly ajar door, opening it a bit more.  He
peered in.  Harriett had her slim face buried in a book that must’ve 
been at least a thousand pages.  Her fingers were thumbing the pages, 
turning them briskly with one hand, and holding down the rest of the 
book so that clumps of pages didn’t fall onto where she was reading.  
Another finger moved along each line as she read, scanning every word.  
Her eyes followed along with her finger, glimmering when she found 
something of interest. 

He stepped onto the beige carpet, and Harriett glanced up from her book.
 “Hi.” she whispered, flipping another page.  “I was just looking 
through this book.  I was kind of hoping to find something that might, 
er, help me, er...forget it.”  A sad look filled her eyes. 

“No, what is it Harriett?” he demanded, sitting down on her flowered
bedspread. “You can talk to me Harriett.  I will listen, honest, but 
you have to tell me what you’re thinking or I can’t help you.” 

“Well, you know Ariadne?  Ariadne Dollons.  My friend that lives across
town. You remember how I went to spend the night at her house last 
weekend?  Well it really got me thinking while I was over there.”  She 
paused, and her fingers ran over the leather binding of the book.  A 
tear blinked out.  “Ariadne lives with her parents.  Her biological 
parents.  Seeing her with them made me want to know who my parents are. 
I started thinking about maybe...possibly...finding them.” 

He stared blankly into her eyes, thinking of what to say next.  He had
known ever since they adopted Harriett that her parents had died 
shortly after giving her up.  In the fifteen years of her life, he had 
never mustered up the courage to tell her.  He had always thought that 
telling her would just upset her more. So he had kept it a secret.  
Besides, he was never sure of how they actually died, so he just 
assumed keep things nice and happy.  However, he knew that this day was 
going to come; that Harriett would start asking questions and he would 
have to explain everything.  Unfortunately, he hadn’t actually thought 
any of this out yet.  He thought long and hard, the gears turning in 
his head. “Whatever you decide to do, I will support you.  I just don’t 
want you to end up disappointed if you don’t find them.” he said 
sternly. 

He thought of telling her that they were deceased, but he froze.  For
some reason, as he looked upon Harriett, he just couldn’t break it to 
her.  She had never looked more determined in her life.  Something told 
him to let her figure things out for herself.  This was about her, 
about finding out about her parents.  This was her decision. 

Harriett smiled sleepily and looked back at her book.  “Well, back to
work then I guess.”  She picked up the book that was still spread open. 
 She put her finger in on the page she had stopped reading, and closed 
it on her hand, holding it up for him to see.  She pointed at the 
embossed gold lettering on the binding. It read “Finding Your Roots”.  
She rubbed her fingers over the leather binding again and again, 
breathing in the smell. 

Mr. McRode strode out of the room, confusion clouding around him.  He
had wanted to tell Harriett that her parents had died shortly after she 
had been put up for adoption, but for some reason something held him 
back.  Before he could turn to go get ready for another rousing day of 
mowing lawns, he stopped and peered back in at Harriett one last time.  
He watched her bury herself in her book, her glasses hanging off the 
tip of her nose.  It was as if he was anticipating something to happen 
- maybe that Harriett would all of the sudden forget about wanting to 
know her parents - that she would slam the book closed and go outside 
and have some fun.  He watched still yet, but she didn’t.  She just 
kept on working. 

The afternoon turned out to be very nice, despite its gloomy start.  Mr.
McRode went off to mow lawns, Mrs. McRode tidied up the kitchen, then 
started on the rest of the house, and Blythe went over to his friend 
Kendall Wiggin’s house to spend the night. 

Meanwhile, Harriett had just finished thumbing through the leather-bound
“Finding Your Roots” book, and had waddled downstairs with stiff legs 
to get something to drink.  Before she could open the refrigerator 
door, she saw heard a commotion going on in the street just outside the 
house.  People were screwing their heads up towards the sky, pointing.  
Harriett hurried over to the window, curious to see what all the ruckus 
was.  She peered out and looked up.  Flocks and flocks of birds were 
circling the sky.  She squinted her eyes harder.  They appeared to be 
owls.  She thought for a moment.  Weren’t owls night creatures, and if 
so, why were they flying around during the day, and in such large 
groups at that?  Something seemed peculiar. 

Harriett ran towards the front door, flinging it open in confusion.  The
blue sky appeared all around her, just as the owls that were swooping 
up and down and in all directions.  All the neighbors seemed to be 
going mad, screaming and flailing their arms over their heads. 

“Harriett, where do you think they all came from?” shouted Ariadne from
across the street. 

Harriett ran over to her side.  “I don’t know.  There are so many of
them,” she murmured, still entranced by the swooping owls. 

Harriett and Ariadne were still gazing up into the sky when an owl came
swooping down behind them, landing stealthily on the ground between 
them.  They looked down, startled, each taking a step back. 

“Psssssst,” a voice whispered.  They both heard the voice.  It was soft
and child-like.  They looked around, trying to figure out who it was. 

“I’m down here girls,” the voice cried.  Both Harriett and Ariadne
looked down only to see the lips of the owl moving.  They stared at 
each other again, a frightened look on both of their faces.  Had the 
owl sitting between them just spoke to them? 

They crouched down, both staring into the face of the owl hoping only to
hear soft hoots, however they did not. 

“So you thought I was just a normal owl, eh?  Quite wrong you were.  You
did not think I had the capability to actually talk.  Well listen up 
dearies.  I have a message for you and your fellow Muggles,” he spat, 
his wings flapping slightly in the wind. 

“Wh-what?” they both muttered together.  They eyed the owl, anxious for
the next words out of its mouth.  People around were still screaming 
making it difficult to hear.  They moved in a little closer. 

“Us owls are here only to deliver a message to you Muggles.  We have...”
he stammered, as Harriett interrupted him.  “What are Muggles?” she 
asked curiously, wrinkling her nose up in confusion. 

“Muggles my dearies, are people such as you.  People that don’t have
such wizardry power as many others and I do.  You live, unknowing of 
our world, the Muggles you are,” he explained proudly. 

“What kinds of powers do you have?” Ariadne asked. 

“You girls sure do ask a lot of questions,” he said, tugging at his
wing. 

Harriett and Ariadne gazed into his yellow eyes, becoming entranced. 
The owl continued to tug at his wing harder, ruffling his brown and 
gold feathering. 

“Excuse me if I ask a lot of questions,” Ariadne sneered, “but it’s not
everyday that an owl starts talking to me!” 

Before she could open her mouth to continue, the owl had gripped its
wing and sparks shot up into the sky.  He grinned, pulling out a wand 
with his wing, and began waving it in the air.  This attracted his 
fellow owls, and they began swooping over Harriett and Ariadne’s heads. 
It was as if they were in some fairy tale. 

The sparks began to sprinkle down on top of their heads, and they began
to feel dizzy, and couldn’t move.  They grasped their heads in pain.  
It was as if their brains were being sucked from the inside out, 
excreting their entire memory of what had just happened.  More sparks 
began to flutter about.  The owl shot a sinister grin, and Harriett 
fell to the ground, rolled up into a ball, and held her head with both 
hands until she passed out. 


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