I love the Harry Potter series.
My family knows this, the few acquaintances I have know this, just about anyone who meets me first hand would figure it out pretty quickly. There’s a lot to like about it; a fantastical school where you go to learn spells, potions, and other magical wizard-y things? The premise itself is exciting alone! Reading it was my escape, my otherworldly freedom from my incredibly worldly problems. My family wasn’t always kind, in fact said kindness is even now, in my 20’s, a rarity. That’s why I always adored fantasy novels, the idea of an escape, a world so much more interesting and freeing then my own; of course not all protagonists lived lives full of love, but I was used to that, and it always seemed like the addition of something magical could make such a life much more bearable. Like, for instance, with Harry Potter; an orphan who grew up without love, to escape to a magical world of wonder.
So, as you can imagine, I truly love the Harry Potter series. Which, I do, but…
There’s just so many problems with it!
The adults don’t act like adults at all! Why was no one concerned Harry needed to receive so many letters? Did no one notice that his first letter was addressed to a cupboard? What about the fact in his second year he needed to be broken out of his own home? And those so called ‘trials’ to protect the Philosopher's stone! They were abysmal, considering a ragtag group of three eleven year olds could get through them! Then in second year, children were being petrified, the school was filled with terrified students, and again, a 12 year old had to kill the monster! And with his third year, with Sirius; how did Sirius never get a trail? That can’t be legal! How did no one notice?!
Speaking of Sirius, his story arc especially frustrates me. He was always my favorite character, a man forced through so much pain and suffering. Out of his only four friends, two are murdered, one suspects him of treachery, and the last is said traitor. Spending years in a prison where your happiness is sucked out of you, near monsters who could eat your soul. A man who only wants his godson to be happy, who struggles for happiness himself, and in the end is granted only death.
Then again, I’m complaining about a book for children. It’s not as if such incompetence is real, and you can't really expect that real world problems would be tackled in a book for 10 year olds. I suppose that’s why I always preferred fanfiction, and thought JK Rowling’s canon to be rather lackluster.
Which is why, I’m sure you can guess, the situation I happen to be in is rather strange. See, I had been walking in town, on my way home from work. It was late, and as I was rather well at multitasking, I was scrolling through a fanfiction site to find a nice fanfic to read when I got home. Harry Potter related, naturally. Course, it was late, and I always did have a habit of wearing darker clothes, so it only makes sense the car traveling 50 miles per hour wouldn’t see me in time to hit their brakes. This alone probably wouldn’t be strange, but well, if you ask me it makes little sense why it would be an author I dislike to be the one to greet me as I’m sent to the afterlife.
Even stranger is how we’re in a train station remarkably similar to the one Harry visits in the final movie.
The woman, and she couldn’t actually be JK Rowling could she? Last I heard she was still alive, but the likeness was definitely there. She smiled at me, but it looked strange, like her mouth was stretched too wide and her eyes were just a tad too bright.
“Gabriel, is it?”
I start for a second, not expecting JK Rowling to sound like that. Her voice was deep, and certainly not human. Really, everything about her seemed to scream inhuman, even if she appeared to be in the body of a famous author. I nodded, a bit dazed. In response the blonde woman laughs, but it wasn’t a very nice thing to hear. Rather grating, if I’m honest.
“You seem to have some idea of what I am,” she says, eyes sparkling in mirth. ‘What,’ she says, not who. She gestures down her body, “this is merely a form for your convenience. It wouldn’t do for me to destroy your mind, hm? And considering the purpose for our meeting, I found it ironic.”
“Purpose..?” I whisper, confused. Was there a purpose to my death? My eyes squint, it’s not as if my life had much purpose to begin with.
The being smiles that unnaturally wide smile, “yes. Purpose. You see, you’ve won the lottery!” She laughs, the harsh cackle resonating in the empty train station. “I’m feeling a tad bored, and you have such interesting ideas for an old dimension I once ruled over. Course, I had given the world to another, but he has been rather…” Her smile turns sharp, twisting in a malicious way. “Annoying, as of late. So! I’ve decided to be a bit of a bother back!”
She leans forward, and I instinctively take a step back. My mind whirls, interesting ideas? The fact that she is masquerading as JK Rowling being ironic? The trainstation we’re in? A different world? Something clicks, and my mouth opens in shock. “Wait, you mean-?”
She claps, giddily bouncing on her feet like a child. “Yes! Isn’t that just grand for you? To be able to change the plot of the story you love most? To be a part of a world you’ve dreamed of for years?” She spreads her arms wide, a gesture of grandeur. “You could save them, the ones that you favor!” She cackles, delighted. “You may be wrapped up into the others schemes, of course. He is rather nosey like that, plotting and planning and all. But as I am the original creator, his world will listen to me above him, so I could plop you in even if he doesn’t want me to!”
Her cackles fade into smaller, less grating, giggles. I’m left standing there, shocked and confused. Surely this is just a fever dream? Then again, I’m rather certain I’m dead, it definitely felt like I died after all. It all seems insane, but, no one knows of the afterlife until they experience it… Is this person really a god? Is what they’re offering real?
She continues on, either not noticing or ignoring my crisis. “There will be some differences in this world, compared to the stories you know.” She comments, waving her hand absentmindedly. “Not many, of course, this human seemed to get most of it right. Of course, it wouldn’t be very fun to tell you everything.” She laughs, something she seems to enjoy doing frequently. “You will not replace Harry Potter, but things will change when you become the protagonist. And isn’t that just exciting! Being your own protagonist!” Her lips widened into a smirk, her teeth bared sadistically. “You will be free to do as you wish, though certain actions will have consequences, as is the risk of all lives. However because I am rather kind, if I say so myself, I have decided to give you a… leg up, so to speak. Whatever outcome stems from your interference is certainly to be entertaining, to say the least!”
She then tilts her head, shrugging in an unbothered sort of way. “Of course, you can always refuse. If you wish to move onto this world's afterlife, merely board the train. However,” she holds out an envelope. “If you wish to take me up on my offer, you must merely accept this letter.”
Everything seems to be happening so fast. This strange entity changed to look like JK Rowling. Explanations of different worlds, of changing plots and saving characters. Though, in this world they wouldn’t be characters, would they? They’d be… they’d be people.
My mind races, this is certainly an opportunity isn't it? Not only to experience magic, real true magic! But to go to Hogwarts! See the castle with my own eyes! And, and what if I could save those characters? Those people, real in a world I didn’t know was real? Besides, it’s not like I have anyone waiting for me here anyway.
The woman smiles knowingly when I take my steps forward up to her, as if she knew all along what my choice would be. As my hands grasped the smooth paper, she chuckled. “Oh I can’t wait to see the chaos you bring!”
Once her words were spoken, the world exploded in a cascade of colorful lights. My head explodes in pain as well, and I reflexively clutch tight onto the letter. I use my hands to cover my eyes, hoping to ease the pain from being blinded. The light dies down though, and I hesitantly remove my hands, only to gasp at what I see before me; Diagon Alley.