Harry Rotter and the Cauldron Catastrophe
Harry Rotter, the girl wizard, had been told time and time again by her Aunt Petunia Potts never to experiment in the kitchen. Unfortunately, Harry was the sort of wizard who thought rules were there to be exploded.
On a particularly wet and windy Tuesday, Harry decided to brew a potion to make herself invisible. That way, she could sneak into her cousin Box Privet’s room and “borrow” (which meant keep forever) his stash of chocolate frogs.
She rummaged through the cupboards.
- One cracked teacup.
- Half a packet of Aunt Petunia’s custard powder.
- A suspicious-looking pickled onion.
- And a single spark plug, which she insisted was magical because it gave her a “tingly feeling.”
Into the saucepan they went. She gave them a stir with a wooden spoon that had once belonged to her mother — until Harry had used it to chase a troll out of the garden.
“Double bubble, cauldron trouble,” Harry muttered, though she wasn’t quite sure what the rest of the rhyme was. She decided to improvise:
“Make me vanish, make me quick,
Before Box calls me a thieving—”
At that precise moment, the mixture gave a loud BURP! and exploded all over the kitchen. The walls turned purple, the floor turned upside-down (temporarily), and Harry herself… well, she didn’t vanish. Not exactly.
She became half-invisible.
From the knees down, she was gone. But from the knees up, she looked perfectly normal. Well, as normal as Harry Rotter ever looked.
Aunt Petunia stormed in with her rolling pin. “HARRY! What have you done this time?”
Harry tried to look innocent, which was hard when she appeared to be floating around the kitchen like a misplaced balloon.
“I only wanted a nibble of Box’s frogs,” she confessed.
Box Privet chose that moment to arrive, saw Harry’s disembodied top half hovering above the floor, and screamed so loudly that three pigeons fainted outside.
“YOU’RE A MONSTER!” he shrieked.
“No,” said Harry thoughtfully. “I’m a half-monster. Which is actually a promotion.”
The next week at school, Harry discovered her new condition had certain advantages. She could sit on chairs without using them. She could glide along corridors, terrifying the teachers. Best of all, she could sneak into the tuck shop without anyone seeing her legs carrying her away with a mountain of sweets.
The downside, however, was socks. Harry’s invisible feet still smelled — and nobody could figure out where the stink was coming from.
In the end, the Headmistress made a special announcement:
“All complaints of mysterious odours shall henceforth be blamed on Harry Rotter, whether she is visible or not.”
Harry grinned. “Fair enough. At least I get the chocolate frogs.”
And with that, she floated proudly out of the hall, half-girl, half-nothing-at-all, and entirely trouble.
The Crazymad Writer Writes Again 