Leaving It Up to Chance

Chapter Two

Harry blushed furiously as Jenny walked in without an answer and started to clean. She picked up Harry's Quidditch trophy from the floor and grinned.

"I went to this Quidditch Match," she told him. "Puddlemere versus the Chudley Cannons."

"Yeah?" Harry said, not really knowing what he was supposed to say.

"Yeah," Jenny said quietly.

I'd better go help her, Harry thought getting up with one last glare at the niffler. He picked up the fallen chairs and Jenny went into the kitchen.

"Er, Harry . . ." he heard her call.

"What should I do with these?" she said, stifling a laugh. She was holding a handful of utensils; a fork with missing pricks, a spoon with the cup-like part hanging off the handle, and a bent knife. Harry grinned and said, "Throw them out. I'd have a hard time eating with those."

Jenny laughed and threw the useless objects into the trash. Harry passed her and began to tidy up his bedroom. Luckily, not much harm was done here, but he still hadn't found the doorknob to his closet.

"Well, I think that's pretty much it," Jenny said to Harry, who nodded.

"I'd better be going."

Say something . . . A voice in Harry's head said.

"Er, thanks, Jenny," he said awkwardly.

Well that was just great. Ask her to dinner or if she'd like to stay for tea! Ha ha, tea . . .

But before Harry could even think of something to say, Jenny waved good-bye and said, "No problem," and walked out the door. He was about to call out to her, but she was already gone, out of sight. With a defeated sigh, he shut his apartment door.

"What to do with you," Harry muttered to the niffler.

It looked up at him, it's black eyes barely visible under all of that fur.

"If I untied you, would you stay put?" Harry asked it, feeling stupid for even talking to it.

It merely stared.

Harry looked at it, considering it. If he untied it, the niffler could go crazy again and ruin his apartment again. If he didn't--well, Harry was going to release it from its chains anyway.

Carefully, he undid the chains and backed away slowly, watching the niffler. It sat there, gazing at him. Harry heaved a sigh and went to the kitchen for some food; all the yelling, chasing, and cleaning gave him an appetite. Harry went back to the living room, arms full of soda, bread, bologna, and mayonnaise. The niffler was gone.

"Niffler! Hey, niffler, where'd you go?" he whispered, setting the food on the coffee table. Harry crawled on all fours, searching for a patch of fluffy black fur. He shrugged and was about to straighten up when something landed with a soft thud on his back.

"Oof!--Hey, it's you," Harry gasped. The niffler peered around Harry's shoulder so that it could see his face. It hesitated then licked his cheek.

"You remind me a bit of Hedwig." Harry swallowed; Hedwig was getting on in years and hadn't returned ever since he had sent her off to Ron's with a letter. He was growing worried.

Then a sudden thought struck him. "You know, if I'm going to keep you, I might as well give you a name."

Harry looked down at the niffler (it had jumped off his back), searching for a defining characteristic. Black, shaggy fur... He reminds me of Sirius... but that doesn't suit him... Er, maybe Shadow? No, no. Too common. Let's see... He's got a long snout... Pig? No, that's not right either. He's got clover-shaped feet. Clover... eh, I'm not really attached to that. Clover, Dover, Wover, Tover, Topher... Topher! It fits! We have a winner!

"Alrighty, I'll call you Topher. But you've got to behave, okay?" Topher looked up at him and Harry could've sworn that the niffler was grinning.

Harry made his sandwich and ate, occasionally throwing bits of it to his new room mate. Much too soon, it was night and he crawled into bed, Topher cuddled up next to him. Harry had tied the chain loosely around its neck so that it would have something to chew on, meaning none of his belongings.

But, Harry couldn't sleep. His thoughts drifted on Jenny. She was pretty, with her dark hair, shining brown eyes, and dazzling smile. He had to find her, but had no idea how. He couldn't find her in a telephone book. She didn't even give me her last name... he thought sadly.