Calling Miss Cleo

“Harry, I’m telling you, it’s a scam! She’s just a Muggle! How can she POSSIBLY predict your future? Even Trelawny couldn’t properly predict anything if her life depended on it,” Hermione Granger snorted into her cup of Diet Coke. Her friends Harry Potter and Ron Weasley were staying at her Muggle home for a weekend over summer break. Harry, who was just holding his Diet Coke and staring blankly at the TV, didn’t seem to hear her.

Since Hermione’s parents were dentists, the junk food they were eating consisted of low sugar sodas and rice cakes that were lightly coated with some mysterious substance that was supposed to taste like caramel according to the package. Hermione didn’t seem to mind the food at all. ‘I pig out all year at Hogwarts, it’s nice to come home and eat healthier for a change,’ she’d told Ron and Harry.

“Oh wow! If I call now, I can get a FREE psychic reading! This Jamaican woman is AMAZING!” Harry said and leaned forward, as the infamous Miss Cleo whirled around the screen, with tarot cards flying around behind her.

“Oh lighten up Hermione. Didn’t you hear those callers? They all sounded satisfied,” Ron said and took a daring first bite of rice cake and almost coughed. Hermione finished her glass and poured herself some more.

“Ron, you aren’t stupid. Don’t start now. Those callers are probably paid voice actors in the next studio, calling in and agreeing with everything she says,” Hermione said and started on her fresh glass. Ron scowled and looked down at his feet.

“You just want to spoil Harry’s fun. It’s free! What’s the harm in it?” he asked. Hermione put down her glass with a bit more force then necessary, causing the drink to slosh over the lip of the glass onto the table.

“Ruin his fun? Is that what you think of me? I ruin your fun? Well that’s just great Ron. I’m glad to know what a lousy person I am to be around. It makes my day, it does,” she sneered. Ron peered over Harry at her glass.

“You might want to clean that up,” he said non-chalantly. Hermione uttered a very irritated growl and stood up to fetch a towel from the kitchen. As soon as her back was turned, Harry seemed to come out of his Miss Cleo induced trance.

“Why do you torment her?” he asked Ron. Ron only leaned back and grinned widely.

“Because the little patch of red that goes across her nose when she gets angry is just the cutest thing in the world," he said with an air of pride and put his arms behind his head. Harry rolled his eyes.

“You’re playing with things that ought be left alone,” Harry advised Ron.

“Can’t help it, it’s addicting,” Ron grinned cheekily.

“What’s addicting?” Hermione was back with a kitchen rag, and was looking at Ron suspiciously. Ron’s smile faded a bit and he cleared his throat.

“Oh, eh, the…rice cakes!” he said and held up his half eaten rice cake. This seemed to change her mood, because she grinned.

“See, I told you they were good!” she said and cleaned up her mess. Harry stared back at the TV. The number for Miss Cleo was still flashing on the screen with her extension number. He quickly grabbed a pen off the coffee table and jotted down the number on the palm of his hand. Hermione watched this.

“Oh, Harry, you’re not really going to call that fraud are you?” She sounded like she was being forced to skip a day of school when she used that pleading, slightly whiney tone. Harry tossed the pen back on the table.

“Maybe,” was his only answer. She shook her head ruefully and sat back down.

“Not from my house,” she said and put her feet up on the edge of the coffee table. Harry stood up and tugged on Ron’s arm. Hermione looked at them.

“Now what?” she asked.

“Ron and I are going for a walk,” Harry said in a simple tone. “We’ll be back.”

Ron was about to protest, but Harry tugged him towards the front door.

“Where are we going?” Ron asked. “You know you could have left me there with her.”

“Why, so you could tease her off enough to justify hitting you round the head with the telephone?” Harry asked as they walked down to the street. He remembered seeing a pay phone on his way here. Ron chose to stay silent, though the thought of Hermione hurling random objects at him from across the room was rather comical.

“I think it’s down this next road,” Harry said absently as he turned left at the end of Hermione’s street. Sure enough, it was only a block to a main road, where, across the way there was a pay phone. The two dodged traffic as they crossed the street. Harry picked up the receiver and dialed the number on his hand. He got out his wallet and entered in his Uncle Vernon’s company credit card number when prompted. The over bearing git was at least useful for SOMETHING.

*******

Meanwhile, Hermione was flipping channels. Those two were such morons sometimes. She stopped on a commercial for skin care products and got up to use the bathroom. When she came back however, the commercial was over, and it was a whole half hour of air time dedicated to that fraud tarot card reader Miss Cleo.

“It’s inescapable,” she muttered to herself.

“HALLOOOOOO everyone! I’m Miss Cleo! I’m here today to show you the power of the tarot!” Miss Cleo announced on the screen, wearing a ridiculous scarf on her head. She was sitting at a table with palm plants behind her and far too much incense burning. The table was covered with all kinds of trinkets and doo-lollies, like crystals, cat figurines and candles. “We will be jumping right into our callers today. Caller are you there?” she asked.

“Hi Miss Cleo,” said a voice. Hermione rolled her eyes. She knew that voice.

“What is your name caller?” Miss Cleo asked.

“Harry,” he said.

“Ahhhhhhhh! Such a lovely name Harry! And what is your sign?”

“Eh, Leo.”

“Ahhhhhhhh! Heart o’ the Lion eh? The Lion is an important symbol in your life isn’t it?” She asked. There was a distinct gasp on the phone line that Hermione recognized as Ron. Miss Cleo heard it too.

“Sorry about that Miss Cleo, my friend Ron is listening too. But yes. You are right. My House Mascot at school is a l-”

“Wow! I’m on Tell-Vision! Dad’s gonna be so jealous! Hi Miss Cleo!” Ron interrupted, his voice sounded excited.

“Hallllooo Ron! I’m glad you could join us. Harry, what is the matter that you are calling about today?”

Harry hadn’t thought of this obviously, because he hemmed and hawed.

“Well, eh, there is a girl at my school that-”

                “Ahh! A love question!” Hermione watched Miss Cleo shuffle her deck of very worn tarot cards and put them all out. The camera panned to an overhead view of the cards she was placing in the wrong order and flipping over. She tapped her forefinger on the table for a second before moving to a card.

                “Here we go, we have the King of Pentacles here, I’m guessing you’re a dark haired fellow Harry?” Miss Cleo asked and leaned off to one side, with a look of self importance on her face. Hermione rolled her eyes at the television. Not only was the woman a fraud, but she was a fraud with a puffed up ego

                “Why, yes, I do have dark hair,” Harry said.

                “AHHHHH HUH!” Miss Cleo bellowed. “And the girl you speak of, she is a dark haired beauty?”

                “Wow, you’re good!” Harry sounded impressed. Miss Cleo puffed up some more and grinned widely.

                “The cards don’t lie!” she bellowed happily.

                “Hermione dear, what on earth are you growling about?” A voice came from Hermione’s left. She turned around to see her father standing there with a perplexed look on his face and a can of Dr. Pepper in his hand. Hermione’s mother had forbidden him to drink anything with stimulants in it because of his high tension, but Hermione always felt that the caffeine did her father good, because he paced and was snappy when he was off it. He looked around the living room.

                 “Where’s your friends?” He asked. Hermione simply pointed to the TV.

                “They ran out to a pay phone to call that Jamaican tarot tart from the TV. They’re on right now. It’s all so fake, how can they possibly believe anything she’s saying?”

                “They’re talking to Miss Cleo? Why aren’t you recording it for them?” her father asked and trotted into the room and popped a tape into the VCR and pressed record.

                 “I just love her! She always has the most colorful clothes on!” her father exclaimed as he sat down next to his now fuming daughter. He turned his head towards the back of the house

                “HONEY! COME IN HERE! HERMIONE’S FRIENDS ARE ON TV!” He said and swallowed the contents of the can quickly and hid it under the sofa.

                “Father!” Hermione squealed and bent down to get the can and put it in its proper place. When she returned from the kitchen, her mother was in the living room standing behind the couch with her arms crossed and an amused expression on her face.

                “Harry is asking about a girl he has a crush on,” her mother said as Hermione plopped back onto the sofa.

                “Yes, unfortunately I was well aware of that,” Hermione snorted as she reluctantly turned back to the TV. As annoying as it was, she felt it was very much like a train wreck and couldn’t look away.

                “Harry, do you have another boy at your school whom you don’t get a long with?”

                “Why yes I do!” Harry sounded impressed. Hermione wanted to beat her head against a brick wall. Since when was Harry so dense? It was such an obviously general question. ANY boy who went to school would have another student he didn’t get along with.

                “Ah, yes, that would be the page of swords here!” Miss Cleo said and then grinned more. “He seems to think he’s above everyone else doesn’t he?” She asked.

                “That’s Malfoy alright,” Ron said in the background. Miss Cleo looked back down at her cards.

                “Well don’t you worry one bit about that boy Harry. The cards are telling me that he’ll get into serious trouble before the year is out.”

                “The cards are telling me that this woman needs a good slap upside the head,” Hermione muttered. “THAT’S IT, I can’t take this anymore,” she said and got up. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. I’m pretty sure I know where they went to,” Hermione grumbled and walked out the front door.

*******

                Harry and Ron were so wrapped up in their phone call, that neither of them saw Hermione crossing the street towards them, in fact, they had no clue she was even standing there until she reached out and grabbed the phone receiver from them.                                          

                “Awww, come off it Hermione!” Ron whined as she hung up the phone.

                “What’s your deal? We were just having a bit of fun!” Harry pouted. Hermione fumed, with her arms crossed and a look upon her face that suggested that she’d just chewed a handful of Ear Wax flavored Bertie Botts beans.

                “Having a bit of fun by wandering off and leaving me at my house when you’re supposed to be spending the weekend with me?” she asked in a soft, dangerous voice.

                “What’s your problem with Miss Cleo anyway? You seem to have a real grudge against her,” Ron pointed out. “I thought she was pretty accurate. She knew Harry had an enemy at school and that he had dark hair...”

                “RON! Those were all generalized answers! I can’t believe you two actually believed anything she said! It’s like all your brains leaked out of your ears since I last saw you,” she huffed, then continued. “And for your information, those are very expensive phone calls! My father called her once and ended up paying five pounds a minute!” She said. Harry shrugged.

                “I used Uncle Vernon’s company credit card number,” Harry said. Hermione’s shook her head.

                “Oh, sure Harry, that’s REAL Gryffindor of you! You know that’s illegal right?”

                “He owes me,” Harry said simply. Hermione threw her arms up in the air.

                “You two are so stupid! I give up!” She said and stormed back in the direction of her house. Harry and Ron followed a few steps behind her, both smiling.

*******

                Later that month, at Grunnings Drill Manufacturers , Vernon Dursley was yelling at someone over the phone about a drill order that had been delivered late. He was feeling pretty good about his day, when a voice bellowed his name through the intercom. It was his boss.

                “Yes sir?” He asked.

                “Dursley, see me in my office,” His boss said and clicked off the intercom. Mr. Dursley wondered what could possibly have made his boss angry enough to call him by his surname. Usually his boss was quite jovial and called him Vernon. He got up and walked to the office at the end of the hall. When he walked through the open door, his boss looked to be the color of an overcooked radish.

                “Please close the door and sit down,” he asked. Mr. Dursley complied. His boss was still for a moment before he pushed a credit card bill across his desk at Mr. Dursley.

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