Just Another Midnight Run by momotwins
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Pyxis Parmenter was a regular of mine, I'd brought him in four times in the last year. He always put up a fight that was embarrassingly disgusting. Last time he'd enchanted eggs to follow me around while I pulled him out of his run-down old house. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get raw egg off your clothes? Just don't let it harden in your hair, that's all I can say.
Mostly Independent and Totally Broke
I swear I could feel something crawling on me where I'd sat on the filthy sofa. Ew, ew, ew. If I were Butrus Knapper, I'd have skipped out just to get out of that rowhouse.
You were practically invisible when Victoire Disillusioned you. She told me once that sometimes she Disillusioned herself to hide from her kids, so she could use the bathroom alone.
I had just taken a step back to think about what to do next when I heard Harmon Ladd muttering from inside. I ducked down, curling into a ball with my arms protecting my head just as the blast went overhead right where my face had just been. The window next to Ladd's front door had shattered as the spell went through it, and there was glass all over the front stoop, and all over me.
“Cor,” Fred said, looking around at the neighbourhood. “Do you always go to areas like this? My mum would kill me if she saw me here.”
You Can't Bring a Baby on a Stakeout!
I sat at the kitchen table and paged through the latest issue of Witch Weekly while Victoire fried a couple of eggs. She added a few sausages to the pan, and the sizzling made my stomach rumble. I needed a housewife. Well, what I really needed was to find Knapper so Scorpius could go back to being the housewife again. I decided not to call it that to him. Men can be so touchy.
Temporarily Deaf and Blind
I felt rude and awkward, and my words came out in a rush. “I work for Angelo Agnelli Magical Bonds, and I'm trying to find Butrus Knapper. I've been looking for anyone with even the slightest connection to him, and your name turned up as a school chum of his half-brother.” Did I just say chum? Oh my God, I'm skipping my mother and becoming my grandmother.
Bounty Hunter: 1, Aurors: 0
I'm aware that 'hunted down' is probably not the most accurate turn of phrase, but it sounds better than 'been insulted by and eventually brought down via a series of accidents that worked out in my favour rather less often than not'. Semantics.
The Good One
Mrs. Kochel is mean. Mean and vindictive, and she doesn't like us. Okay, we never pay our rent on time and leave our dirty wellies in the hallway, but other than that, we're pretty good tenants. Except that time we'd had a party and my cousin James made a four-foot hole in the wall, but she could hardly count that against us.
Like a Law or Something
“You tell that woman you're related to not to darken my door again,” Angelo said, pointing at me. “And I better not hear you mention her in my office again, either. She is dead to me! Vietato il discorso!”
The Disappearing Man
I could do with some fish and chips, in the name of research, of course. I'd been sitting here hours, twiddling my thumbs, and my stomach was complaining loudly of my continued lack of forethought in handbag-based snacks.
The Banshee of Lupin Hall
I reappeared far enough away that the flames couldn't get me, and watched the building burn in dismay. I hardly even touched the place, honestly. No one could actually consider this my fault. Any reasonable jury wouldn't convict me.
Very Bad Things
Though I sometimes had a hard time connecting the Uncle Harry I knew, who gave piggy-back rides when I was a kid and had once eaten a flobberworm to impress his sons, with the Harry Potter who defeated Dark Lords, killed basilisks, and was called The Chosen One, I was aware of my uncle's accomplishments. If I were him, I'd trust my instincts too. But I wore unicorn shirts and couldn't fry eggs. I was no Harry Potter.
Rose's Bad Guys
Panic was sitting heavily in my stomach and heart as I looked around. I was in big, big trouble. Kidnapped, immobilized, and hidden away who knew where. I wanted to hyperventilate, but apparently you can't do that on purpose. I had no idea how I was going to get out of this one.
“Madame, this child is a menace,” Worthing informed me.
He didn't seem to care that Uncle Harry was still watching us, because he brought my hands to his lips and kissed my knuckles. “I'm glad you didn't get chopped into pieces and turned into Dark objects, Rose.”
It is impossible to adequately explain to a child that you have to take the ice cream man to jail. At least he wasn't working in a Father Christmas grotto, I suppose. Small favours.
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