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!!"