Disclaimer: I don’t own Colin Creevey, or Harry Potter or anything cool or potentially profitable. It all belongs to JK Rowling. The beta job, however, belongs to Mysterious Muggle: thanks!

5,000 Words

            Colin threw his side pack down on his bed then undid the strap that held his camera around his neck. It was a good camera, a Canon EOS 300, auto focus, 35 mm. His father had offered to buy him a digital camera but Colin failed to see the point. How could he develop moving pictures when they were digital? He thumbed the zoom mechanism mindlessly as he scanned the pictures he’d arranged on the walls of his room: his favorites. Most of them were taken at Hogwarts and showed images of Quidditch teams flying around at top speed on their broomsticks, the castle silhouetted against the evening sky, but a few of them were also of the Muggle world, though not as many. He was only at home a few months out of the year and it just seemed odd to make moving photographs of Muggle cars crawling through heavy traffic or a girl on the sidewalk, staring at him, who would then blink and wander out of the frame, coming back periodically to see if he’d stopped watching her yet. Moving pictures were simply not Muggle-appropriate.

            Most of them were newer pictures. His skill with the camera had grown from being a way to show off the wizarding world to his family back home to being a full-time hobby, almost an obsession of sorts, and he routinely updated his gallery with more recent ones, better ones. The old ones went into one of the numerous shoeboxes or he gave them to his parents. It was hard to tell whether they were more pleased about his pictures or the fact he was a wizard. It really had come as a complete surprise to him. Who knew that causing the headmaster’s toupee to fly off on an otherwise completely calm day was magic?

            His little brother Dennis, on the other hand, was no surprise at all. The two of them had always done everything together and when Colin was in his first year, Dennis was at home pouring over all the pictures and letters Colin sent.

            Colin paused, his finger still on the zoom and leaned in towards the gallery. There were, amongst the pictures, a few empty spots Colin knew he had filled. Aha! His favorite picture, the one with Harry Potter flying against the dragon in Colin’s third year was missing. So were some nature shots and snap shots. Gone! Colin frowned, furrowed his eyebrows, dropped the camera on his bed and rushed out of his room.

            “Dennis!” He yelled, pushing open the door to his brother’s room. Dennis moved his eyes up from the magazine he was reading on his bed and Colin blinked for a moment. A Quidditch magazine? Since when…? But right now, Colin had more important things on his mind. “Have you seen any of my pictures around, or have you moved any of them? Some of the ones I had on my wall are missing. You didn’t take them did you?”

            Dennis, now assured that nothing remotely interesting was happening, either with You-Know-Who or Hogwarts, moved his eyes back to the magazine. “Nah, haven’t seen them,” he said, lazily turning a page. “Go ask mum, I’m busy.”        

            Colin’s frown deepened and he spun out of Dennis’ room, down the stairs and into the office area, where his mother ran her freelance writing business. “Mum!” he began, but was cut off abruptly by an impatient shush. Her fingers moved rapidly over the keyboard, filling up lines of type on the computer screen until finally her lips spread into a smile and she clicked the save button. “Now, Colin, what is it?” She asked sweetly. His mum could be a dear when she wanted to be but bother her when she was in the middle of an article and not even a good protego charm could save you..

            He began without hesitation. “Have you seen some of the pictures I had hanging on my wall? I’m missing some.”

            Her forehead wrinkled in thought. “Do you mean the ones of Hogwarts, the dragon, the Quidditch games and that…what class was it with the plants? Herbology?”

            Colin sank in relief. “Yes, those are exactly the ones. Where are they?”

            “Oh…dear…” Mrs. Creevey paused and Colin felt his innards tighten. Never in his life had any good news begun with the words ‘oh dear’ and today was not an exception. “I gave them to your father, so he could have a look at them at work, if he had a moment.” She noted the rising panic on Colin’s face and added quickly, “He didn’t have a chance earlier and you so rarely show us pictures from your school any more.”

            “But—to WORK!? Mum, he can’t take those out there! How’s he going to explain pictures that move, or worse: Dragons!” He threw his hands up in the air in frustration. He loved his parents but sometimes they just made keeping the wizarding world secret a little difficult. Like the time they had started discussing how much trouble Colin was having in potions in front of the neighbors. Colin had managed to play it off by claiming that was what he dubbed his summer cooking class, but unfortunately Mrs. Slatterly, who considered herself to be an expert chef, had promptly offered to help him. Two weeks of extra help later, Colin knew how to keep a soufflé from collapsing and that he had absolutely no desire to keep one from collapsing ever again.

            “Oh, Colin, do you think your father is just going to show those pictures all over the depot?” she chided gently. “Really! We may not be magical but do give us some credit!” But Colin was no longer listening. He ran back up the stairs, grabbed his bag and his camera, a couple more rolls of film (just in case), and ran back downstairs, past his mother, who shouted “Where are you going?”

            “To get my pictures!” he shouted over his shoulder and slammed the door on her reply of “Dinner’s at—“

            Colin ran through the back garden, dodging the clothesline, and hoisted himself over the wall that separated their garden from the Slatterys’ and made for the one that blocked off the street beyond that, nearly running into Mrs. Slatterly as she hung out her wash. “Oh, hello, Colin!” she called to him, as he sprinted away from her and towards the next wall. “How are the cooking lessons going?”

He arrived ten minutes later, panting and drenched with seat. So he wasn’t exactly in tip-top, fit physical condition. He was a wizard, for goodness sake! If he

needed something, he Summoned it, as simple as that. Unfortunately, this was summer, Colin couldn’t do magic and he wasn’t too sure how the town’s populace would react to his father zooming across town. For that matter, Mr. Creevey probably wouldn’t respond to positively to it either. Colin wiped his forehead off before walking into the building.

            The depot was a combination dairy and warehouse where the town’s milkmen picked up full bottles of milk and dropped off empty ones each day, ensuring the town’s supply of dairy products. It was also where Colin hoped to find his father. Sure enough, Mr. Creevey was there, in the loading zone, unloading crates of empty bottles onto a forklift.

            “Hi,” Mr. Creevey grunted, carrying two crates to the lift.

            “Hi…er…” Colin’s earlier fervor seemed to abandon him now as he watched his father work. Maybe it wasn’t such a big deal after all. His father was usually so busy at work, he wouldn’t have a chance to take them out until he got home anyway. Still, he had come this far. If only he’d hurry up. Colin, to his surprise and his father’s, found himself helping unload the numerous crates.

            “So what brings you up to the depot, son?” Mr. Creevey asked as he sat the last crate down. “More picture taking?” He nodded towards Colin’s camera.

            “No, actually I’m looking for a few pictures Mum said you took with you to word today…I need them back…if someone were to see them…”

            “Hold up, hold up, I know. It’d be disastrous. Secrecy and all that.” He smiled broadly at Colin. “It’s all right, I’ve got them right here in my—“ Mr. Creevey broke off as he put his hand in his pocket, fishing around for the pictures. “Er...” his hand came out empty and he gave Colin a panicked look. “They’re not there!”

Earlier that day, a few miles away, a Muggle by the name of Agnes Simon had opened her door to pick up the fresh milk. It was early, and she hated getting up early, so it had taken a while for it to register that the milkman had left behind something more than just milk. She had stared at the pictures for a moment, confused, as she picked up a bottle of milk and tried to open it. She had glanced at the pictures absent-mindedly, wondering what in the world they had to do with their milk delivery. Suddenly, her eyes had widened and the bottle of milk fell onto the floor in a crash as she covered her open mouth with her hand. They were moving!