Council Housing -- Blackpool

(2010) It was late June. A bony woman in her mid-forties stood in the small den of the apartment, reading and rereading over the strange letter left by that damned vulture (Whatever it was.) We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Witchcraft and wizardry! Why, that was the work of the devil! The woman runs a hand through her gray-streaked hair, exhaling. "I don't know what to think! "All those years of praying and..." Her voice, primarily a rasp from decades of smoking, trailed off as her eyes landed on her son, seated on the couch. "Praying that it wasn't true, not none of it..."

"Wait, this is a joke. This is a joke!" The woman gives a forced laugh and rips the letter in half, then into fourths, causing her son to cry out 'Mum! Don't!' in protest. "A joke, that's all it is... all it was... That bastard and his magic tricks..." She staggers into the wall and drags herself into the kitchenette to prepare their usual meal of pan-heated fake chicken patties. No son of hers would run off to join that devil troupe. Not a shot...

"But, Mum..." Hugh began, trying to find the right words for this. Oh, she was going to have a stroke. "I think... I think I know why they sent it."

Irene felt positively nauseous. "Wh... What."

"The other day, at school, something happened; I... I don't know."

Within an instant, Irene was standing behind the couch, heated frying pan in hand. "What happened?" She sounded severe.

Hugh kept his eyes down. "There was a... Someone stole my maths work... and... he just started... choking."

Irene was saying a silent prayer, raising the pan above her son's head, trying to remember where she kept that vial of holy water. "I don't know! It just... Mom? MOM!" She landed a very good hit, smack on top of his head. He was far from unconscious, but he'd have a nasty bump for a while. He managed to get to the other side of the room. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?"

"Your father was a demon! I'd been praying all these years that none of it was true! Huey, dear, tell your mother it's all a joke!" All of this came out very fast. Holding one hand on his head, Hugh began edging to the door, shaking his head, muttering incoherently. "Come and give your mother a hug! It's all a lie, right? You're not a demon! You're NOT a demon!"

He groped behind him for the handle of the door. "I'm not! I'm..." He was gone. Irene was left with her half-cooked faux-poultry and her worries about what exactly she had just unleashed upon the world.

Years later, the telephone began to ring.

Disregard this excuse I suck cocks! "Hello?"

"Hi Hugh!" said Sophia in a chirpy voice. "It's Sophia Sawyer! You know, your friend from school!"

After an instant of staring at the receiver in disbelief, he said, "How did you get this number?"

"From yellow pages, silly! Anyway, I had an idea." she said. She paused for a minute, to make it sound extra dramatic. "We should throw a crazy PARTY at Hogwarts!"

"No. Not a chance."

"Yes, Hugh, yes. This is going to be your introduction to society, like in My Fair Lady! We're going to clean you up, and make a bow out of your hair, and throw a party in YOUR behalf! It's a great idea!"

"We're going to what?"

"Teach you to act in public, shape a hair bow out of your hair like Lady Gaga, throw a party, and introduce the NEW Hugh to the Hogwarts society! Anyway, I have to get off the phone now. See you soon Hugh! School is in just a month! Isn't that exciting?!"

And she hung up the phone with an extra cheerful smile on her face.

Hugh hung up the phone as well. He had been, outwardly, hoping that he wouldn't have to endure another year of this. Furthermore, wasn't Ca-ca (whoever)'s hair a wig?

It was a fine August afternoon approximately a week before school was to begin. Hugh had already begun packing; there were various items scattered around the living room floor beside his open trunk. At that time, he was taking a break; seated on the floor, leaning against the half-empty chest, listening to some pop-rock crap spewing from the gray speakers on his radio -- his only source of mainstream entertainment.

There was a very obnoxious knock on the door.

(OBSCURE VIDEO GAME REFERENCES YES.)

[this is here it isn't obscure]

Having been so rudely awoken from his music-induced trance, Hugh wasn't feeling very inclined to opening the door. But he rose anyway, sauntered over, and looked through the peephole. He backed away almost immediately. Oh, not this... Please, not this. He wasn't home, no, he wasn't home.

(Good point. But maybe for other people.)

Sophia simply continued to bang on the door, her knocking growing more obnoxious by the second. She even began to incorporate different song tunes and such to it, and she seemed to be enjoying herself an all too much.

"Huuuugh... open up!" she whined. "I know you're in there because you're a hermit and hermits never leave their houses!"

Reluctantly, he opened the door a crack, one eye and a sliver of pasty, blemished skin staring out at the nuisance.

Sophia ran right inside with hair gel and a CD case in the other hand. She ran towards the direction of music, and threw in a CD copy ofCannibal and soon enough 'We R Who We R' began to play. She seemed to look very pleased with herself, and turned back to look at Hugh.

"Isn't this great?! I thought we would begin rehearsing for your public debut, even if it's not until a couple more months?"

Hugh was silent, glaring at Sophia, biting the inside of his cheek. He left the door open.

She pointed to the ground. "Sit down." she commanded. From her little handbag-purse she brought along, she pulled out a hairbrush.

"You're not doing this. You are not TOUCHING my hair." His voice cracked a bit.

"Yes I am very well touching your hair. Now sit DOWN!" she barked.

"No, you're not." He kept his voice at an indoor level, as he always did.

"Fine then. I'll just style your hair while I'm standing up." and sure enough, Sophia began to comb out that grease bomb of hair on his head carefully.

He struggled, though it was futile; somehow, Sophia managed to be stronger than he. The grease and flakes of scalp in his hair were so frighteningly thick that the residue began to build up in the teeth of the comb.

Sophia's eyes widened in disgust. Hadn't this boy ever heard of shampoo and conditioner? Ah well, it didn't matter. The comb wasn't even her's, it was her younger brother's Victor. If she washed it out carefully he would never guessed that she stole it.

Then came the hair gel, she spread a glob of it onto of Hugh's head, and forced herself not to wince at the nastiness of it all. She then began to take his bangs, and attempted to part it into a skater swoop thing.