The story

Mr. and Mrs. Hapschatt of 69 Privates drive were extremely normal, thank you very much. There was nothing about them out of the ordinary whatsoever. They both wore simple clothes and simple underwear. Nothing frilly or out of the ordinary. In fact, they were about as normal as anyone could be.

Mr. Hapschatt was a tall man, blond, with a dazzling smile. He worked in the local travel agency. Mrs. Hapschatt was a mousy woman, small, who took her duties of staying home seriously, and cared for their young son, Buddy. And in their opinion, he was perfect. As perfectly normal as they were.

The Hapschatts were quite comfortable in Denton in their normal existence, but they had a secret. A secret that they were terrified of anyone finding out. They simply couldn't have taken it if anyone had found out about the Majors. Janet Majors had been a friend of Mrs. Hapschatt, but they hadn't spoken for some time. In fact, Mrs. Hapschatt preferred to forget that she knew Janet at all, because she and her weirdo husband, Brad, were about as UnHapschatt-ish as it was possible to be. They, too, had a small son- about Buddy's age- but they had never seen him. Just another reason not to associate with them- they didn't want their boy mixing with types like THAT.

When Mrs. Hapschatt awoke on the overcast Saturday when our story starts, there was nothing to suggest that strange happenings would soon be occurring all over Denton. Mr. Hapschatt hummed a little tune as he picked out his clothes, the same ones he picked EVERY morning, a red jacket and tie. Mrs. Hapschatt chattered on about this, that, and the other as she forced Buddy, who was having one of his tantrums, into his highchair.

Mr. Hapschatt kissed Mrs. Hapschatt on the cheek. He went to kiss Buddy too, but found his face covered in oatmeal, as Buddy was in the midst of another tantrum. "Cute little guy", he chuckled. And after wiping his face, he was out the door and backing out of Number 69.

He first noticed something peculiar at the corner of Privates Drive. A cat was reading a map. He blinked and looked back. There was no map in sight, but the cat now seemed to be reading... no.... looking.... at the sign. Cats couldn't read maps. Or signs. He shook it from his head and continued on, bringing his mind to travel- and the big deal he was hoping to get today. The local Episcopalian church- where they had been married, was organizing a youth retreat, and he was due to make the arrangements.

But thoughts of travel were driven from his mind as he approached town. Huddled groups of people whispered among themselves excitedly. They weren't dressed normally either, Mr. Hapschatt noticed. They all seemed to be wearing tailcoats and far too colorful fancy dress. He frowned, figuring it was some new fashion and muttered about the youth of today.

It was then he noticed one of the men was bald and quite older. He wasn't young at all! It must have been some sort of stunt. Yes, that was it. Collecting for some silly cult or something. He gave a snort and headed into his office building, his mind back on travel.

Mr. Hapschatt never looked out the window. It didn't do, he thought, to give the customer the first inclination that he wasn't paying attention to them. If he had, however, he might have noticed the people in the street who were pointing at the sky, or the strange things in the sky that they were pointing at.

It stayed that way until lunchtime, when he decided to go across the street to Kirk's Coffee Shop for a cup of coffee and a donut. He passed another huddled group of strangely dressed people and scowled at them angrily. They, too, were whispering excitedly to one another- and he couldn't see one collecting tin.

He couldn't move. He simply stared at them for a moment, as if he wanted to ask them a question or two, but changed his mind. He hurried back to his building.

He had dashed into his office and yanked the phone from the cradle. He had just finished dialing home when he stopped and hung it up again. He was being silly, that was it. There must have been lots of people named Majors around- it wasn't an uncommon name by any means. And he wasn't even sure their son was called Harry. It might have been Herbert, or Herman.

The rest of Mr. Hapschatt's day went extremely well by his standards. He'd made the travel deal with the church, gotten them to take many extras and so forth. He had belittled most of his co-workers and his secretary in record time- he was quite happy.

Everything was normal, until he pulled into the drive at home and noticed the same cat that he had seen this morning on the corner, except this time it was on a small wall near the house, checking itself out in the reflection of the window.

"Shoo!" he demanded, swiping his hand at the cat and staring. The cat simply stared back for a moment, then went back to looking at itself. Annoyed, Mr. Hapschatt headed inside.

Mrs. Hapschatt's day was quite normal. She told Mr. Hapschatt all about the letter they'd received for their high school reunion, the next door neighbors troubles with his furnace, and how Buddy had learned a new word ("No") He smiled at the appropriate places, finished his dinner, and headed to the living room to watch TV as Mrs. Hapschatt put Buddy to bed.

"Hundreds of people in Denton today reported flying houses and castles in the skies. No one has any explanation for the strange sightings, though local police suggest that drugs may be involved. Think we'll have any more UFOs tonight, Bert?" The newscaster asked, sliding a glance to the yellow-suited weatherman.

"Don't know about dat" he replied, flashing a dazzling smile to the camera (how he did this was amazing in itself, he was known to be blind) "But I can tell you folks dat we'll haf some rain tonight!"

Flying houses? Strange people in tailcoats? And that name.... Majors. Mr. Hapschatt stared at the TV, hearing Mrs. Hapschatt start her way downstairs. He'd have to tell her.

"Uh, well.... something on the news. Flying houses. Thought it might have had something to do with.... you know... "

"They have a son, don't they? He'd be about Buddy's age now... what was his name again? Herbert, wasn't it?"

He thought of mentioning that he had heard the name that day, but when he noticed her face, he thought better of it. He turned off the tv and headed to bed.

Before he drifted off to sleep, Mr. Hapschatt consoled himself with the thought that even if it was the Majors they knew that the people were talking about... it couldn't involve them. They knew all too well what he and his wife thought of them, there would be no reason at all why they would be involved.

The cat still sat on the wall, still looking at it's reflection. After some time, it tilted it's head to the side and peered down the street as if expecting something to be there. Suddenly, there was a small flash of light and a man stood there. So quickly you would think he had just... appeared. He wore a skin tight black suit, black gloves, and bore a silver badge on his right lapel. Dark sunglasses sat on his nose, and his black hair was streaked back tightly against his head.

This man's name was Phallus Mumblemore. He seemed completely unaware that everything from his slicked back hair to his winkle-picker heeled boots was unwelcome here, and he reached into his pocket. He pulled out a small phallic-shaped object and stroked it. The nearest street light zapped out. He did this many times, until all the lights on the street went out. Even if anyone did look out their windows now, they wouldn't have seen anything. The only lights that were left were the reflections that came from the cat's eyes. The sight of the cat seemed to amuse Mumblemore, because he gave a little chuckle.

"I can't say I didn't expect to see you here, Miss Uponagal. But really, a pussy?" he turned to smile at the cat, but it was gone. In it's place sat a similarly dressed woman, a small frown on her lips. "How did you manage it, anyway?"

"I got an upgrade to my medusa." She replied quickly "And I like pussy... " she amended quickly, noting he was about to comment "cats."

"Of course" he nodded and reached into his jacket pocket. "I suppose Eddie told you I would be here."

"Yes." she answered, turning to face him. "And I don't suppose you're going to tell me why."

"I'm surprised that you haven't joined in all the celebrations, that's all. I must have passed at least forty parties on my way here."

"People are being careless" Uponagal said with a huff in her voice. "It would be just typical that on the very day youknowwhoImean is gone we're found out by their snooping government. I mean, they're dense, humans- but not stupid. Flying castles and houses. I heard it on their news. They were going to notice something."

"You can't blame them" he replied, popping a pink pill into his mouth. "It's about damned time we had something to celebrate. And his name is Lord DeLordy. Surely, a smart and may I say... sexy woman such as yourself can call him by his name."

Uponagal nearly gasped at the mention, but held it in- looking to him. "Of course you can say it. you were the only one to see through his plot... to do anything to stop him. The only one he was afraid of."

"You don't need to flatter me that much" he said, allowing a slow smirk over his face as he popped another pill.

"I suppose... he is gone?" she asked, wrinkling her nose at his taste for human drugs.

"It seems that way, at least." he nodded, and smiled as the pills began to take effect.

"And... the Majors?" her voice was far quieter now, and she glanced to him slowly. Mumblemore simply frowned and hung his head. Uponagal gasped. "You mean it's true?? And what of Harry?? They say he lived... they say that youknowwhoI... " she paused and sighed "DeLordy killed them. That he shot them with the laser but couldn't shoot the boy... he just couldn't kill Harry... "

Again, Mumblemore simply nodded. "That is why I am here. To bring Harry to the only people on Earth who can care for him"

"Surely you can't mean here!" she exclaimed, throwing a hand toward the house. "These... people? They're completely boring! All she does is spy on her neighbors and spoil her son rotten! He's a travel agent! This is no place for the heir to the throne of Transylvania to live. He'll be famous! I wouldn't doubt if there weren't holidays in his honor in the future!"

"Exactly" Mumblemore said softly. "Famous before he knows what to do with it. Need I remind you what happened to his father... his true father? Ego was the end of him." he shook his head. "No, this is best... you must see that."

"I do but... " she said, running her hand over his chest as if to check if he were there. "Where is he"

"Eddie? Do you really think you can trust him? He only has half a brain, besides missing some other parts... we barely revived him."

"I'm not saying he's not nice, or an accomplishment for you, Phallus. Just that sometimes he..." but she stopped short, as the street was covered in the noise of a motorcycle. "What was that??" she said, hopping up to look.

Eddie roared down the street on a large motorcycle. In his arms, he carried a small bundle, his leather vest whipping in the wind. He stopped the bike and yanked off his goggles.

"You bet. Here he is... I managed to get him out before anyone got into the house. Gave him a little something to help him sleep. " He grinned and handed the bundle over.

They peered into the blankets to see a small boy, fast asleep. The blankets moved enough to reveal a scar in the shape of a small circle, with a lightning bolt inside.

"I don't think so. It might be useful...and anyway, it's kind of cute." He rocked the baby gently. "Well..." he sighed after a minute "let's get this over with." and he carried the boy to the doorstep, where he laid him gently down. He took a note from his pocket and set it atop the bundle of blankets.

"I'll see you back at the castle, Mr. Mumblemore, sir..." said Eddie as he kick-started the bike and roared off down the street.

He nodded and looked to Uponagal. "I've left him with a note explaining everything."

"A note?" she asked incredulously, glancing to the boy, then to Mumblemore. "Do you think that will do it?"

"It is for the best" he said, patting her on the shoulder and looking back to Harry. "Good luck...." he whispered, and went down the street with Uponagal, re-lighting the lamps along the street as they went. Harry slept on. Not knowing he was special, his small hand clutching the note at his side, not knowing he'd be woken by Mrs. Hapschatt's scream the next morning when she was checking the mail. He couldn't have known that all over the known universe, Transylvanians were raising their glasses with hushed whispers "To Harry Furter . . . and the ploy that lived"