"No," I said, and slammed the door in her face. Rowena (little witch that she is), threw the door back open. I don't know HOW she did it, but she did it nonetheless.

"What do you mean, no?" she asked in less-than-mild surprise. "This place has been used as a half-way house for centuries—"
"Don't care," I snapped, "I bought the place, I own the place. I am not using it to house minor characters from a children's book that I've never read. Now, if you excuse me, I'm going to go enjoy a nice steamy bubble bath-" I glared at the mob of people outside my broken down, outskirts of town shack, "—ALONE."

Once again slamming the door in Rowena's face, I cinched my bathrobe's rope tighter. After graduating high school, all I had wanted to do was escape. So, I packed my car and drove in the opposite direction of my parent's house as fast as I could. I didn't know where I was going, but I knew where to stop. I had parked my vehicle in front of a run-down house near the edge of a little town in Missouri. The landlord was looking for a renter as soon as possible, mumbling about a crazy witch loitering on his doorstep. Even though I didn't have a job yet, he practically gave the house to me. The day he moved out, I moved in. Three weeks later, this crazy lady, claiming she's Rowena Ravenclaw, tells me I have to house a bunch of nobodies from "Harry Potter."

Did I believe her? Heck no.

Had I ever read "Harry Potter?" Heck to the no. Not much of a fan of books, or kid's books, for that matter. Or crazy-obsessive fan mobs.

The mumbles and grumbles from outside made me pause. I started to squirm uncomfortably. There was a lot of people outside, most likely crazy. Was it possible they would ram down the door, kill me, and overtake my house? No one really cared I was here, and very few knew, so as long as they kept the rent coming…well, it was possible they could get away with it. Listening in, one voice especially made me nervous.

"Is there any possible way we could convince her?" a graying voice asked.

"I say we just barge in whether she likes it or not," another voice growled (that was the one that scared the crap out of me). The graying voice tried to argue, but then a female jumped in.

"I say Mad-Eye's got a point, Remus," she said, "We could just stun her—"
"We don't have magic, remember Tonks?" the one called Remus asked. Tonks snorted.

"Crap. Forgot about that. Well, can't blame her if she thinks we're crazy, right?" There was a murmur of agreement from several other voices. Suddenly another voice popped up, young, tired.

"Is it just wizarding magic that doesn't work?" he asked quietly. I found myself stepping closer to the door.

"…Yes, why do—"

A knock at the door interrupted her sentence. "Can we talk?" the voice asked. I stood still, pretending that I wasn't there. He couldn't tell I was on the other side of the door.

"I know you can hear me."

I still pretended like I wasn't there.

"Look, please. Just…just let me in for a minute. I just want to talk for a minute," his voice sounded on the point of breaking. I could hear a faint sob, the kind you try to hold back, but it comes out anyway. I'm smart. I'm pretty sure there was a bunch of crazy people at my doorstep, and I wasn't too keen on opening that door for any of them. But he sounded so tired...so lost…

"I'm gonna regret this later," I muttered, opening the door. A red-head, a couple of years older than me, was slumped on my doorway. He was tall, covered in cuts and bruises, and his arm was pointed at such an angle it made my stomach twist. Staring at me with eyes so lifeless I thought I was going to be feast for a zombie, he began to plead faintly.

"I want you to show you someone," he said, then looked down and beckoned over a small man with very large ears.

"Forget it," I said unexpectedly, "Just get into the house." I quit caring whether or not all of this was real. All I wanted to do was help the young man in front of me, with the cocked arm and the blank eyes. I was pretty sure they were all crazy, but that didn't mean they weren't human.

As soon as the thought crossed my mind, a loud POP echoed through my hallway, and I screamed, due to the fact the man with the large ears was magically in my hallway.

"At your service, Miss Miranda," he squeaked, giving me a low bow. First thing that popped to my mind was that he probably found my name on an internet search, no big deal, but the next thing that he said freaked me out a bit.

"I am your house elf. I am at your service. Whatever you wish of me, I shall do it."

My eyes almost popped out of my head as I stared at him. I don't think I was the only one confused, however.

"Wait, did Dobby say that? I thought he liked freedom," Tonks muttered.

"Trip addled his brain," Moody growled, "Going from dead to alive was too much for him."

I glanced around. Almost everyone was staring at the "elf" like he was crazy (Personally, I thought that was a cruel thing to call a midget). They red head, however, had a ghost of a smile on his face. Did he…did he want me to test this? I shrugged. Okay, sure, let's play this game.

"Look, um…what's your name?" Couldn't well give an order without a name.

"Dobby, Miss Miranda."

"Okay, Dobby. There's an old house in St. Charles, MO, on 518 Main Street. Inside the house is a room with green walls. In this room there is a dresser. In the bottom left-hand corner of the dresser, there is white envelope with the words "Little Mandy" on it. Go get it."

With that, the elf disappeared. My jaw dropped. Okay, parlor trick, so—

"Your letter, Miss Miranda." Dobby squealed. I tumbled away, colliding with the wall. Shakily, I held out my hand for the letter, which Dobby handed to me with a little bow. Trying to control my trembling hands, I held the letter to my nose. Cupcakes and rosepetals. Smelled just like grandma. The letter I had left behind in my urgency to leave the house. I quit trying to keep calm. I was a quivering mess. This was real. There was no, way, no way in that split second he could have disappeared and reappeared with a letter that smelled of cupcakes and rosepetals. Unless…

I lunged for his arm, squeezing it. Dobby jumped a little bit, eyes wide, but other than that he didn't move. It was soft, fleshy—real.

Suddenly a loud THUNK! resounded from the porch behind me. I bolted upright. The red head was lying unconscious on my porch, face pale and body trembling worse than mine.

"Well," growled Moody, "There goes Weasley."