Chapter 5: The Robber Barons

There seemed to be less flim-fluffs as we reached the village, but a pig squeal, even higher than Squiggle's, rang out. It was not mating season but Squiggles ran faster than a Pinto pony. He sniffed behind a very familiar tree, and let out a frightened squeal higher than the one I just heard. I realized--that wasn't the sound of love.

"Release Squiggles!" I demanded with aggressiveness. It did not help to retrace our steps, for we ran into the gnarly tree.

"Not unless you do one teensy thing for me pretties, oh, actually, two: 1. untie me 2. defend me in court!" Needless to say, it was the witch.

You would not expect all five of us including Squiggles to give in, but we just had to. What lawyer would take such a horrifying request?

Soon, the prices of food reached so high the witch got rich. Farmer Paul couldn't pay off his tractor, but that wasn't the worst of our ordeal. The villagers almost completely starved. We had to live off any scraps we could find. No one was prepared and the demand eventually turned in rioting. That flashed across Channel 5 faster than the famine. All hope was lost and the town was in danger of abandonment if it was for the court hearing.

The purple witch's real name was Esmerelda, revealed during court. Harry Potter and his wit discovered she wasn't the only culprit behind the weather changes and the bad soil.

"Poor soul," Harry alleged, "Voldemort bribed to bring her family back from the dead and gave her partial profit if she would help her. I dare say I don't feel entirely sorry for her but she was used. Her wisdom and healing were once celebrated through the wizard world, as my client informed me, L. Trent."

As I dreamed, this was the conclusion that caused the stir in the courtroom. After our evidence was presented it was official: not only was the witch guilty, but she had a boss.

Voldemort was banished from earth for a hundred and fifty years. The witch went to prison in Salem and paid back a large portion of her riches. Paul organized a rain dance for the entire town. Gushes and torrents fed the soil with happiness as was never witnessed since the founding of a mysterious man.

September 22nd, the autumn solstice was celebrated with carnival, parades, fireworks, barbershop quartets (ha), tribal bonfires, and ancient hymns and rhythms. Frodo came with me on a date, and Sam took Darla. It became an official holiday.

I woke between sleep and consciousness. My head was sweaty. I wanted to scream, but couldn't.

"Pop, Papa! Where are you?"

"I'm here! Hope you hadn't had too much too drink." He let out a hardy laugh and gazed into my drooping eyes. That comment really confused me.

"I had the most interesting, but terrifying dream!"

"That was no dream. After the festival, Voldemort put one last charm on you. You were almost dead. Froto, Sam, and the mayor, saved your life."

"Thank you all. I don't remember what you are talking about Dad, but I think I'm getting back memories. My head really does hurt." A man that looked an awful lot like the mayor handed me an ice pack.

"Relapses." The man examined briskly. "You know, your gramp's business kept the town from going belly up. Good thing we came in time before Voldemort took you to the dark side."

"I hope this adventure gets me into Wiz College." Voldemort's spell didn't keep me from looking at the future. I leave you the rest to ponder.