Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

It was a hot, hazy day in July. The air felt as though you could cut it with a knife. Not a breeze was to be felt. Ernie Macmillan leant lazily against the counter of the magical pet-shop, fighting against his drowsiness... He was all alone in the shop this afternoon, although he hadn't even been apprenticed a week. His boss had left an hour ago - he was probably off for a stroll in the forest to catch some new animals, or to have a picknick somewhere with his wife and children. He'd certainly like to be off in the woods somewhere....

Ernie sat down on a stool, resting his head in his hands and drifting off into a gentle day-dream.

Suddenly he was brutally brought back to reality by the sharp tinkle of the shop bell. He sat up quickly and nearly fell off his stool. Struggling to his feet, he tried to focus on the customer... and got the second shock in a minute, as he recognised his old schoolmate Harry Potter, who was by now the most famous wizard far and wide.

Ernie started to say something vaguely polite and friendly, when he noticed that he was, in fact, facing an extremely angry Harry. Carrying a cage in which appeared to be a dead parrot. The memory washed over Ernie, leaving him burning with embarrassment, but business was business, and things had been pretty tough lately. Be businesslike, he told himself. He cleared his throat.

"Er - how may I help you?" he managed.

Harry slammed down the cage with the parrot on the counter in front of him.

"Look," he said, fuming.

Ernie looked at the bird. The effects of the illusion charm were wearing off, the bird now being clearly recognisable as a parrot.

"Yes?" he said.

"I wish to make a complaint about this bird," said Harry, in a voice that had a steel edge to it. "It's a parrot. Which I purchased an hour ago in this very shop, when I bought it as a phoenix."

"It's a - Norwegian Red," Ernie improvised. "Very easy to mistake for a phoenix. What's - um - what's wrong with it?"

Harry's eyebrows rose half an inch. "Quite apart from the fact that a parrot is rather cheaper than a phoenix, this parrot appears to be quite dead."

"No, it's just resting," Ernie interrupted hastily.

Harry was taken aback. "Resting?!" he said. "That parrot isn't resting, it's dead! Look, it's lying there, stiff as anything, on its back! It's dead!"

"It's not dead, it's just asleep! It's a Norwegian Red, they're a bit of a curious breed, like to sleep on their backs. Beautiful plumage, too."

"I don't care about its plumage," Harry cut it. "It's stone dead!"

Ernie could feel he was starting to sweat. "No, no, really, it's just resting!"

Harry looked at him disbelievingly. Then he said, "Alright then, if it's resting, I'll wake it up!" He took a deep breath and started shouting at the cage, "Hello there, Mister Polly Parrot!! Wakey wakey! I've go ta lovely fresh cuttle fish for you..."

Ernie quickly took aim with his wand and zapped the bird so that it moved ever so slightly. "There," he said, hoping Harry would swallow the lie, "it moved!"

"I see the wand!" Harry shouted. "You zapped him!"

"I never!"

"Yes you did!"

"I never, ever did anything!"

Harry turned back to the cage, shaking it violently and yelling at the parrot.

"HELLO POLLY!!!!! Testing! Testing! Testing! Testing! This is your nine o'clock alarm call!" Taking the bird out of the cage, he thumped it repeatedly onto the counter, then tossed it into the air and watched it plummet to the floor. "Now that's what I call a dead parrot," he said, turning back to Ernie.

Ernie gulped, but continued bravely if stupidly. "No, now he's stunned," he said.

"STUNNED?!" Harry yelled.

"Yes... you stunned it, just as it was waking up! They're delicate birds, Norwegian Reds, stun easily..."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "Enervate," he said, pointing his wand at the bird - no reaction. He turned back to the other man. "Now look, mate, I've definitely had enough of this. That parrot is definitely deceased, and when I purchased it an hour ago, you assured me that its total lack of movement was due to it being tired and shagged out following a prolonged squawk. Plus, you told me it was a phoenix nearing a burning day. I ask you..."

"Maybe - " Ernie swallowed. "Maybe he's pining for the fjords."

"PINING FOR THE FJORDS?!..." Harry was temporarily speechless. "What kind of stupid talk is that? Look, I took the liberty of examining that parrot when I got it home, and I discovered the only reason that it had been sitting on its perch in the first place was that it had been NAILED there."

"Well of course it was," Ernie tried to shrug off the last comment, cringing inwardly. "If I hadn't nailed that bird down, it would have nuzzled up to those bars, bent 'em apart with its beak, and VOOM! Feeweeweewee!"

"VOOM"?!? Mate, this bird wouldn't "voom" if you put four million volts through it! 'E's bleedin' demised!"

"No no! He's pining!"

Harry had about had enough. "He's not pining!" he shouted. "He's passed on! This parrot is no more! He has ceased to be! He's expired and gone to meet his maker! He's a stiff! Bereft of life, he rests in peace! If you hadn't nailed him to the perch he'd be pushing up the daisies! His metabolic processes are now history! He's off the twig! He's kicked the bucket, he's shuffled off his mortal coil, run down the curtain and joined the bleeding choir invisibile!! THIS IS AN EX-PARROT!!"

Ernie gulped and tried in vain to think of something to reply to this tirade, but eventually he had to accept that he had lost.

"Well, I suppose I had better replace it, then."

"I wanted a phoenix, mind you," Harry reminded him.

Ernie paused in the act of looking at a few cardboard boxes behind the counter.

"I'm sorry, we seem to be out of phoenixes at the moment, and parrots, too."

Harry rubbed his forehead in exasperation. "I see, I see, I get the picture..."

"I've got a flobberworm," Ernie volunteered.

Harry sighed. "Pray, does it talk, sing, or have miraculous healing powers?"

"N-no, I guess not," Ernie replied, staring at his feet.

"Well."

Neither of the two men said anything for a long moment. Finally, Ernie summoned up all his courage and ventured, "D'you.... d'you want to come back to my place?"

"Yeah, all right, sure."