Night had long since spread its wings over this quiet patch of countryside. On a cobbled drive leading to a rustic cottage stood the familiar figure of a young man in glasses, still dressed in his school uniform, poised to toss pebbles against a window above. Clank, clank, clank, they went, until a glimmer of light appeared from within, and a silhouette could be seen approaching the window.

"Jo!!" the harshly whispered shout floated in through the window pane. "Hey Jo!!"

Joanna Kathleen Rowling -- better known to the world as "J.K. Rowling," but known to dear friends as "Jo," flung open the window and peered into the hazy darkness. "Who is-- Daniel? Daniel Radcliffe? What the fewk are doing in my drive at...." quick glance at the bedstand clock "three in the fewkin' morning?!?!"

"I need a scene, Jo, please, I need you to write me a scene. Some spellcasting, Hogwarts banter. Something. anything!! I just need a Harry Potter scene to act out."

Rowling blew some stray strands of hair out of her face and barked back, "it's over Danny, the stories are all done. I gave 'im a happy ending in Deathly Hallows. That's it Danny. No more Harry Potter. I'm done with it, I'm-- I'm Pottered out."

"But I need it, you don't understand," he took several steps closer to the house, hands out in a plea, "I need to be Harry Potter. Just a short story, come on. You can't make me quit cold turkey. Please Jo, I'm begging you."

"Look Danny, I made Harry Potter, I get to decide if anything else gets done with 'im. Ever. And I'm really fewkin'--"

"GODDAMMIT JO, I'M HARRY POTTER!!" Radcliffe saw the shock in Rawling's face at his declaration, and quickly backpedaled. "Oh, oh God, I'm so sorry Jo, I-- I just meant.... I really need...."

With a sigh of resignation, Rowling threw up her hands. "Alright, alright, one scene. Wait a few minutes, I'll throw some clothes on and be down to the door."

Elated, Radcliffe whipped out his cellphone and autodialed an eagerly waiting number. "Rupert!! Emma!! Come quick, she'll do it!!"