“And to what do I owe this night time visit? Office hours are outside the door, nine to five, Monday to Friday, closed on Sun -”
“Yes, thank you, Albus, but I’m afraid the recent situation warrants this intrusion,” said Jo, as she nabbed a sherbet lemon from Dumbledore’s bag.
“Merlin’s Moustache! Jo Rowling in my office!”
“Don’t change my phrases, Albus,” scolded Jo appraisingly. “It’s Merlin’s Beard, if you don’t mind.”
“But I do mind. No one ever comments on the moustaches; they must feel very left out. The moustache makes the beard, you know! I mean, have you ever seen a beard with out a moustache? Frightful!”
“Obviously he’s not back to normal yet,” muttered Jo under her breath. “This spell will need some time to take effect, so enjoy your last few minutes of insanity, everyone.”
“Aww, I don’t want to go back to normal!” yelled Harry.
“Yeah, me neither,” said Remus, “I feel that I’m a rather dull character, Joanne. Maybe you could spice things up a bit. I mean, Sirius died, and look at what that did for him! Millions of fans, all bawling their eyes out. Now that’s fame.”
“Yes,” said Jo slowly, “but he’s still dead, Remus.”
“Well, you can’t have it all,” Remus pointed out logically.
“I need a few things cleared up,” interrupted Harry.
“Don’t you always,” muttered Jo under her breath, while smiling sweetly at her creation. “Yes, dear, what can I explain for you?”
“Voldemort’s alive.”
“Yes.”
“And, I’m alive.”
“Yes, you are.”
“But it’s the end of the book.”
“Exactly.”
“Well,” said Harry in a voice of suppressed calm, “why isn’t he dead? Or, why aren’t I dead? Shouldn’t he have strangled me to death with an empty marshmallow bag, or something?”
“Harry, dear, what time of year is it?”
“It’s June, of course. The traditional time in each book for my fight against the Dark Lord, where he inevitably, against all the odds, fails to kill me.” Harry’s eyes lit up with a sudden realization. “Oh, I get it, it’s not time for that yet!”
“Well done. Yes, I do still have another book to write.”
“And I’ll kill him then?”
“ … ”
Before Jo could open her mouth to reply with the answer we have all been longing for, Severus Snape burst through the office door, driving the thought from the room.
“Well,” snarled Snape, “thank you very much, for leaving me alone with an extremely angry Dark Lord, and for blowing my cover!”
“You’re welcome, Severus,” said Jo, “but don’t worry. Voldemort won’t remember a thing. Neither will you, in fact, as soon as this spell takes effect.”
“And when will that be?”
“As soon as this chapter is over. You will all ready yourselves for book six in July, and never mention this little adventure again.”
“Oh,” said Snape, calming slightly as he slid into a nearby chair.
“Right, well, I’ll take off so,” said Jo to the room at large, as she put on her jacket. “Is everyone sure they’re alright now?”
“Yes,” muttered the room dully.
“Oh, don’t be so upset! Maybe you’ll enjoy book six.”
“I doubt it,” said Harry.
“Yes, well I doubt you will, Harry, it’s not going to be a nice book for you. Maybe you should get some therapy before July. I know a very good psychologist, Jack Freud. He’s a descendent of the late, great Sigmund Freud, and -”
“I don’t care.”
“Ah, now you’re sounding more like a teenager. I’ll send him in for you. Don’t worry, he’s very good. He’ll even draw a scar on his forehead to better understand your pain.”
“Just leave, Jo.”
“Yes, on second thoughts that may not be such a good idea. He does tend to bring everything back to the patients mother, and given the circumstances -”
“Jo! Enough!”
“Alright, just do a good book for me, okay? Maybe we’ll see each other next summer. We have a book seven to plan, you know.”
“Oh, Hurrah,” said Harry sarcastically.
“So, what will we do now?” asked Remus.
Without answering, Ms. Rowling decided to leave her embittered characters and return to her castle in the north of England. “After all,” she thought, “they do have a lot coming at them in July. I may as well leave them to it.”
The Dark Lord Voldemort sat in the Riddle House alongside his Death Eater Lucius Malfoy, looking very dejected.
“I hate Harry Potter so much!”
“Quite right, my Lord.”
A brief silence followed these remarks.
“You know, we’re back to where we were before all this, don’t you Lucius?”
“You’re right, my Lord.”
“Soon we shall be completely back to normal, and all of my evil plans have come to ruin once again.”
“Yes, my Lord, it certainly appears so.”
Lucius Malfoy was very disappointed. His master was tired and bored. “At least,” he thought, “the marshmallows had made things more interesting”. Had he done the wrong thing?
As though he had read his mind, Voldemort rose from his throne and opened a secret compartment behind his hot chocolate machine.
“I made Severus give me the one’s he had left,” the Dark Lord muttered with glee, as he pulled out a large bag of marshmallows.
“My Lord,” began Lucius excitedly, “do you feel like another wacky adventure?”
The glint in Voldemort’s eyes died as he popped a marshmallow into his mouth.
“No, Lucius, I’m far too tired. Besides, we don’t have enough time left.”
“Game of wizard’s chess then, my Lord?”
“No,” Voldemort settled back into his throne. “Turn on the television Lucius. I want to see every Harry Potter movie that has been made thus far. I’m going to beat him next year, Lucius. I really am.”
Harry wandered through number twelve, Grimmauld Place, trying to find something to occupy his time until July. Unexpectedly, he was whisked away to Surrey with a loud pop, and found himself staring at the front door of number four, Privet Drive. Mrs. Dursley yelled at him to come inside and clean the house in time for the following month. “Anything would be better than this,” he thought dismally, hoping against hope that his stay in Privet Drive would be brief this year. He really couldn’t wait for book six to begin.
A/N: Hi everyone, I hope you enjoyed the final installment. Thank you everyone who has reviewed and emailed me, you have all made this so much fun. I hope you continue to read my other stories!
~ Zee