It all began when Voldesect the Roach popped out from the ledge of the vanity in my lower level washroom.

He manifested just as I went to use the sink.

Having just come home from church, I was still wearing heels.

On instinct, I yanked one of them off and hacked away at Voldesect with it. Unfortunately, the Dark Lord of Bugs is fast and I have the aim of a Storm Trooper.

My short- range blows missed him repeatedly.

All I managed to destroy was the paint job on the vanity. 

War is wrought with collateral damage.

Voldesect escaped through a miniscule hole in between the porcelain sink and the battered vanity.

After searching the area top to bottom, I had no choice but to conclude that my slimy opponent had retreated to the sewer pipes from whence he came.

Crisis over, I shifted my focus to comforting myself. I sought solace in my belief that I had bested Voldesect, at least for the night.

I wanted to begin the healing process and to slowly but surely put my life back together.

I gathered the supplies necessary to repair the vanity, pausing only to berate my dogs for abandoning me in my time of need.

I found one of them sleeping in the cupboard, as if he were a furry, four-legged Harry Potter.

“Sirius-ly?????” I snapped. 

Returning to the task at hand, I painted the vanity. 

Ever the alert soldier, I remained armed with pesticide at all times. 
Though it appeared I had won the night, I knew better than to sleep on Voldesect.

After searching in vain for a House Elf to wash my paint roller, I opted to do the task myself.

Then I returned to the scene of the crime, beginning what was to be my night-long patrol.

Quietly and cautiously I approached the washroom door.

Stealthily, I rounded the corner, armed with shoe and pesticide — like the epic wizards of old. 

No sooner had I crossed the threshold then THERE HE WAS! 

Voldesect was perched on the toilet, poised to flush himself to the Ministry.

I refused to allow that to happen. 

And so a battle for the ages commenced!

I was merciless. I threw shoes and doused Voldesect with pesticide. I yelled every defense against the dark arts spell in the book.

Okay, that last part is a lie. I moaned like Myrtle over the sheer horror of it all.

I admit that my lips wailed in terror and my body shook like the ground underneath the fattest “yo mama” with every move Voldesect made. 

But internally I remained brave, cunning and creative — exactly what the world expects a Hufflepuff to be!

Voldesect simply would not die. 

Dodging my every blow, he mocked me by playing a maniacal game of hide-and-seek — weaving in and out of a hanging Gryffindor red towel, which I now have to burn in the Goblet of Fire.

But the cat and mouse game was short-lived, and Voldesect switched tactics.
He went on the offensive and began to chase me!

Merlin’s Beard!!!!

I didn’t have time to conjure up my Patronus; I was going to have to defeat Voldesect on my own.

Summoning up all my courage, I allowed Voldesect to charge murderously directly towards me.

I waited until he was right beside me and then,
*PETRIFICUS TOTALUS* 

I pulverized Voldesect with a Nike shoe.

 I just did it!

And that is the mostly true story of how I became The Girl Who Lived to tell the tale! 

And, years from now, when I am old and gray, the people who hear this story will ask me, “Do you still have it… after all this time?”

When they do, I’ll not hesitate to raise my elder wand shoe aloft and reply, “ALWAYS”!