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Honestly... I Really Am Harry Potter! | ||||
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Category: Alternate Universe, Post-Hogwarts Characters:None Genres: Comedy, Fluff, Humor Warnings: None Story is Complete Rating: PG Reviews: 9 Summary: Harry and Ginny are given a special opportunity for a holiday, and then spend it trying to convince some people of some important things. One shot. Hitcount: Story Total: 6139 Disclaimer: Harry Potter Publishing Rights © J.K.R. Note the opinions in this story are my own and in no way represent the owners of this site. This story subject to copyright law under transformative use. No compensation is made for this work. |
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Disclaimer: Everything Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling…as well as to the people themselves if you believe this story. This story actually begins just a few months ago and I guess that I should apologize in advance if you think that I’m going a little astray. If you have ever met me before, then you might understand this story. If you have not…well I’ll warn you now, so that you don't go screaming into the night. I’m mischievous. In this case, however… no I’m not going to give it away. It was early fall in 2005 and my friends and I were once again in America enjoying one of its fine dining establishments. I loved truck stop breakfasts and I had always made a point of finding the best of them when hosting my friends. “Here’s your pie darlin’,” the waitress said, setting down a nice piece of Dutch apple with a scoop of ice cream. “I checked with the cook and he’s sure that he doesn’t have any moonberry…never heard of it in fact.” I didn’t mind since my second choice smelled wonderful. “Thank you…Gladys is it? Harry, please answer my question…in all the time that you’ve known me have I ever really let you down?” “Well Spenser, there was the time with the moose in the Gryffindor Common Room. Then there was the time that Seamus and you almost destroyed my Firebolt with your automatic broom washer scheme; the incident with the giant parrot; the Muggle taxi cab…” “Don’t forget about the champagne,” Hermione cut in. “Oh yes…the wonderful Casa de Loco Perro 1999 that you brought for our first anniversary dinner. How could I forget that? I couldn’t feel anything with my tongue for hours,” Ginny said. “Now that was an honest mistake. The man at the store had explained in detail that Mexican wines were some of the most sought-after in the world.” “By alley sots maybe Spenser. You bought it at a Muggle hardware store,” Harry quickly reminded him. “It was a very upscale hardware store. Honestly, you’re all forgetting the positive things. Who was it that saved Ron from that band of angry leprechauns?” I asked, trying desperately to make my case now. “Actually Spenser…they did think that Ron was you that morning,” Luna pointed out. “The one with the gold tooth was especially nice though. He told me the most wonderful story about this duck that goes into a bar and…” “Maybe we should save that one for another time,” I said then, but I also gave her a kiss on the cheek to let her know I meant it. “Okay people…who was it that delivered Hermione’s baby when the midwife got drunk and Ron fainted?” “Luna and Ginny!” everyone said in unison. “All right then…who was it that boiled the water and fetched a pile of clean diapers?” I waved for the waitress to bring us some more of the much-needed coffee. It had been a long three days, we were all in need of some more, and surprisingly the roadside café served an excellent blend. “Spenser, what you should be asking is ‘Who wrote the great article for American Quiddich Quarterly?’–you know, the one that got all of us invited here,” Harry pointed out, obviously trying to save some of my dwindling pride. The article had discussed the great similarities between International Rules and those used in the Americas to make up for the reduced number of available players. The major differences were that with American Rules the goals were a bit smaller and only four or five people were on a team; the chasers having to double as beaters. Years before, while passing through Canada, our group had been introduced to the local version and talked into a match as well. Recently, there had been a dramatic increase in the use of magical Gates, which were a great deal simpler than brooms or portkeys for long-distance travel. I simply argued that there was no reason now that the form of Quidditch played everywhere else in the world couldn’t be introduced in the United States. Players from other countries could be recruited to augment the teams’ ranks, and they would bring with them a larger fan base as well. Introducing the more popular version made perfect sense, and was not at all unprecedented. After all, the Japanese had been able to accept baseball and football was played in America, albeit by the name of soccer. The word football there was used for a game where people rolled around in the mud with the skin of a dead pig. The Ministry of Magic, with very little prodding from Mr. Weasley, had jumped at the article’s suggestion. Of course, they took credit for the idea as well, and Ron and Ginny immediately assumed that Percy might have had something to do with that. I surprised everyone by not taking exception to this. I loved to fly, but I had more interest in writing than in the actual sport. The Ministry proceeded to contact Harry, Ron and the American Bureau of Magic, and from the ensuing meetings an exhibition was arranged. Two matches were to be played between amateur teams from Great Britain and the United States. The first was to be with American rules and the second with International. It was a competition in itself as to who was the more excited about the whole arrangement; the various Wizard sportswriters, Harry and Ron (who were both playing and showing off their new line of Moonduster brooms), or Molly Weasley, who got to baby-sit and spoil a house full of grandchildren? Honorable mention went to me. I lobbied hard and finally convinced both governments to hold the games in Nevada. The others were a bit surprised that I didn’t push for my home state of Oregon. It was simply to allow me to pursue the idea that I was trying to put out to them now. “Very well Spenser, what is it you want?” Ginny asked, believing that she already knew the answer. She was convinced that I wanted to involve them in another adventure…one that I could then write about. “What…want? Do you really think that I want something? Ginny, I’m offensive…offended.” The other two couples saw a big smile break out on Luna’s and my faces though. “Okay, okay…you know the book that we finished this summer?” “You mean the Christmas story?” Ron asked. “That one was hilarious.” “Um…actually it wasn’t supposed to be for once,” I told him, feeling embarrassed for the briefest of moments. “Anyway, we sold it…and for a lot of cash. If Mrs. Weasley can put up with the kids for a few more days, we’d like to treat you to a second honeymoon.” Harry almost spit out his coffee. “Hold on…a what? Are you serious Spenser…Luna? Where?” he asked for the others. “The Bear Arms Hotel…in Las Vegas.” “Bartholomew come here…I need you!” a grizzled, elderly man called from behind an ancient desk. The casual observer would be hard-pressed to decide which of the two were actually the older. He was carefully studying a roll of parchment that had just arrived by owl. “Sir Forsythe, please stop calling me that. My name is Igor,” a large servant gently admonished. Entering the well-kept study, he brought with him a large tray with a decanter of pumpkin juice and several bottles of what may have been medicine…or poison if the long-suffering butler had his way. His twenty-some years with the older gentleman had been a series of ill-fated schemes, mistreatment, broken promises and having to endure his employer’s eccentricities. “Pshaw! If the readers choose to endure this outlandish story, the least that we can do is avoid any additional clichés such as your name. Have you tended to the house elves this morning?” “Yes sir. I have given them their daily beatings and they are currently being forced to sit through another episode of The Economy Gourmet on the Muggle television you purchased. I believe that today’s subject involves various ways to prepare Spam.” “You are truly a cruel, cruel man Frederick,” Sir Forsythe said shuddering at the thought. “If you believe so sir.” Igor had done no such thing to the poor elves. He had a very good working relationship with them, and despite his high salary, he could never bring himself to carry out such a callous, vicious act.” “Have you made the arrangements for our guests?” “Yes sir. Their rooms have fresh linen, an assortment of liquors and an ample supply of raw meat. I have also taken the liberty of obtaining the most current tourist literature for the city. I believe that we are only waiting for the confirmation of the Potter party’s arrival.” “Which has just come by owl Samuel.” “It’s Igor!” “Yes, yes. Soon we will have our retribution.” The man stood, walked to the picture window and began studying the snowy landscape outside. He detested it. He hated everything about the United States; the food, the weather, the television comedies and especially how the Wizard world there continually interacted with the Muggles. “Seven years…seven years we have been forced to hide in this infernal country. Seven years of trying to find a way to exact our revenge for the Dark lord’s death. Now…now the young fool leaves the relative safety of England and delivers himself directly into our laps,” the man said in a mocking tone. “You are truly blessed sir,” Igor said, trying to hide the sarcasm in his voice. He then laid out the Las Vegas brochures he had gathered. He waited patiently for the man to notice the topmost one. It only took a moment. “Franklin…what is this?” “That sir is a Muggle gathering that the city will be hosting…a convention I believe it is called.” “This is…this is too poetic! Bwa ha ha ha!” “Sir!” “What? Oh yes, yes…maniacal laughter is extremely cliché for the arch-villain as well isn’t it?” It was late evening when we arrived at the hotel, and despite my elaborate explanations during the drive, the others were all astonished to see the amount of activity about the city. Luna and the Weasley siblings had been exposed to a great deal of the Muggle world over the years, but nothing they had experienced had prepared them for Las Vegas. I pulled the van up to the lobby and quickly told Ron not to jump on the hotel employees that came to take all of our bags. The whole experience was definitely going to be fun. Our friend Gun’r and his family had driven down from Oregon earlier in the week to attend the quidditch matches and root us on. Despite being told as a teenager that she could not have babies, his wife Maggie was expecting their second child in August. Gun’r was extremely paranoid about magical transportation under the circumstances, but readily turned the van over to us for our use when he heard our plan. He simply arranged for his Muggle company plane to return them home. The Bear Arms Hotel was a medium-size and not particularly well-known resort in the big city. It was nonetheless an extremely luxurious complex with a large variety of amenities, including a very nice casino. Not surprisingly, Ron was chomping at the bit to try this despite Hermione’s admonishments. She also reminded him that magic was not permitted in Muggle gambling establishments. I tossed the hotel valet the keys, and then marveled that he was able to take the van up to ninety miles an hour in the short span of the parking lot. I gently extracted Luna from her conversation with a penguin (obviously advertising the hotel’s tuxedo shop) and then followed the others inside. “Spenser, did you know that America had talking penguins? This one seemed to be extremely intelligent. He said that had taken the job because he had a doctorate in the fine arts.” “Luna it was a costume. There was a Muggle in…no never mind. Yes, there are talking penguins here, but they are extremely rare,” I told her in surrender. “Oh I know that he wasn’t real,” she said smiling. I realized then that she had been joking with me as well. Now I have been in a great number of hotels over the years, but still this one had me flabbergasted. It was beautiful! Everywhere I looked there was mahogany paneling, gold and silver decorations, ornate velvet Elvis paintings, and smart-looking staff ready to serve us as if they were waiting for the gun at a starting line. There were no pirate ships, circuses or pyramids (although I absolutely had to show those to the others), but the place was immensely attractive. It would be a major challenge, but I thought that I could put up with the hotel for a few days. We joined the others at the desk and Harry proceeded to ring for the clerk. We were a bit startled when he shot straight up from behind the counter. He was a stout gentleman with slightly thinning hair, an immaculate suit and an infectious smile. “Bear Arms Hotel. Gooooood evening! How may I help you?” “Yes…I uh have a reservation under the name Hemmingway. Two honeymoon suites and two singles,” I told him. Everyone except Luna gave me a surprised look, and hers had just a hint of disappointment to it. I already knew what the conversation later would be about. “Ah…Hemmingway with two M’s. Yes, the two bridal suites were quite an easy matter; however I am afraid that the single rooms are not available after all. We are hosting an extremely large convention at the moment and your reservation was made with absolutely no advance notice. I am terribly sorry.” “Theodosius Bear is Mrs. Weasley’s and my uncle. I believe that he has some interest in this hotel.” “Oh how silly of me. Here are two single rooms on the same floor that just became available. Of course it would have been far easier if you had taken a third suite as they are rarely requested during such gatherings.” “No…no thank you. Miss Lovegood and I are just friends.” I could feel everyone’s eyes boring into me. I was too much of a coward to look back, especially at Luna. “I see. Well there is absolutely no problem now. I am afraid that one of the singles does not have as nice of a view. Naturally we will adjust the price to compensate you for this.” “No problem. I’ll take that one. I only plan to use it to sleep and shower anyway. I also informed the reservation clerk that all billing, including everyone’s room service, is to go through my business manager…Uncle Theodosius,” I told him. “Yes sir. Naturally sir. Mr. Bear and his wife are frequent guests here. Now if I could see some photographic identification, we can sign you all in.” “Yes, we’re Mr. and Mrs. Harry Potter,” he told the clerk as they began to search for their passports. Everyone saw the man’s eyebrows shoot up. “Ah…considering the accommodations, I didn’t realize that you were here for the convention. Yes, I must admit that you do look quite a bit like he does, but I really do need your real names.” “My name actually is Harry Potter and this is my wife Ginny…” “Really…you are of that school of thought. Regardless, hotel policy requires proper registration…even if this is Las Vegas,” he said then, with just a slight tinge of irritation in his voice. Everyone laid their passports on the desk and after a quick scan, the man took a step back with an amazed look on his face. He then proceeded to study the faces of the five of them. “Potter…Weasley…Lovegood? Extraordinary! I am very sorry…it’s just that…you must admit that the coincidence is remarkable.” “Huh…wait a minute…what type of convention were you talking about earlier?” I asked. It couldn’t be! “It’s a science fiction and fantasy exhibition. One of the central themes is the release of the sixth Harry Potter book this past summer and the fourth film later this fall.” “Oh nuts!” I almost shouted as I motioned the others away from the confused desk clerk. “Harry…everyone, I swear I didn’t know. Harry, there are going to be a large number of Muggles here that have read your biography. Probably all of them have seen the movies as well.” I knew that the books and films were a little embarrassing for all of them, although they were extremely pleased with the casting (and Luna equally curious about the future one for her). “Harry…all the Muggles think that it’s all fiction!” ***** The bellhop let Harry and Ginny into their suite and they were immediately bowled over by both its size and grandeur. This was not The Leaky Cauldron. It was as large as a small cottage, complete with its own bar, large screen television and a view of the city that took their breaths away. After examining the bedroom, a blushing Ginny emerged again to meet a curious Harry. It took him about fifteen seconds before he was able to figure it out, and then he just smiled at her. Putting his arm around Ginny, he led her over to the window and the two pretended to study the city. They were both exhausted after their win in the final quidditch match that morning, and then the long drive to Las Vegas. Neither one was ready to sleep however, preferring instead to just enjoy the moment and each other’s company. After several minutes Ginny was the first one to speak. “Harry, we really need to talk with them.” “Luna and Spense? Yeah, it went beyond his being dense years ago. He keeps talking about some ridiculous notion that canon characters can’t marry original ones. It’s just plain mental now.” “No, no…I mean yes it is… but I was talking about us actually. I want to…” She was interrupted by a knock at the door and they both knew somehow that it had to be one of their group. Hotels rarely delivered fruit baskets at midnight. From habit, Harry checked both his wands and then carefully opened the door a crack. It was indeed Ron and Hermione, both with embarrassed looks on their faces. “Is everything all right Ron?” Harry asked. “Yeah Harry…we just needed to talk to you. It’s about a couple things actually, and it’s sort of important.” “Well…come in then. Is your room okay?” “It’s just like yours Harry. Can you believe that bed…ouch! Hermione, we’ve been married seven years now. Are you ever going to stop punching me in the ribs? You know that I won’t hit you back.” “That is exactly why I keep doing it Ron. That and how you do get back at me,” she said with a slight giggle. I only slept for an hour that night. The clerk was not kidding about the room’s less than attractive view. Opening the curtains, I had been suddenly entertained with a very large air conditioning unit on the adjoining roof. It was also not the quietest pieces of machinery. What was keeping me awake however was the thought that a city full of Harry Potter fans might upset the holiday that I had planned for them. As soon as someone spotted his scar he would be subjected to a barrage of questions and comments that might really hurt the poor guy. The last thing that needed to be dredged up in front of him was reminders of the deaths of friends and family. About three in the morning I gave up, took a long shower and then went down to the casino. I selected a roulette table, and began placing minimum bets on the odd/even and black/red slots. I was surprised when one of the hotel performers joined us, and I even struck up a nice conversation with him. The only people he called a hockey puck were the wheel attendants. They all seemed to be well-acquainted with the comedian and took his insults with a smile. I made modest wins and decided finally to get some food. I left the girl a nice tip, shook hands with the gentleman and sought out the twenty-four hour hotel restaurant. Just outside I was pleased to see Ron and Hermione up already. Ron was wearing a very loud short-sleeve Hawaiian shirt that just screamed tourist and badly contrasted with her simple slacks and nice sweater. The poor guy looked totally dejected, but for some reason Hermione had a mischievous look in her eye and a stern look on her face. Uh oh! “How much have you lost Ron? Geez, it’s only eight o’clock,” I told him. “Bloody Muggle machines! I’m down two hundred American Dollars.” “In twenty minutes,” she added. Seeing Hermione’s grin, I forced myself to stifle my own. No…no I had to ask. “How much did you win?” “Actually…five thousand.” “You won five thousand? Hermione…how?” I stammered out. “I believe that the game is called blackjack. It was all rather embarrassing to be honest, especially when the two large Muggles, Vinnie and Knuckles, asked me to join them in the casino office. They actually thought that I was cheating. Can you imagine that?” “Holy Marvin Mudpie! What happened? What did you do? You didn’t use magic on them did you?” I asked with a concerned tone. “Hermione…there are cameras all over the casino.” “Not in the office…I checked.” A moment later a pair of security guards walked past us leading two very upset goats behind them. I gave Hermione a hard stare, but I was actually very proud of her. “I just used a time-release counter-spell. They will revert to their ugly selves in two days with no memory of it or me. It was a bit complicated, but I must admit that I am very pleased with the results,” she said with that mischievous look back again. “To answer your next question, yes I did win the money honestly. The game is a simple matter of probability and numbers.” “I think that I’m going to introduce you to poker Mrs. Weasley,” I told her. Now is anyone open to some breakfast…or would you prefer supper. Las Vegas is a twenty-four hour city, and they serve a mean steak here.” Ron’s expression was priceless. About a half-hour later Harry and Ginny joined us, and the first thing out of her mouth was asking where Luna was. I knew where the conversation was about to go…again…and quickly changed the subject to one about the city’s various sights. They were curious enough that it seemed to work for the moment. At the same time, I was curious about some things as well. I was wondering why everyone was taking turns whispering to each other when they thought I wasn’t looking. I wondered why Ginny was so brusque with all of us that morning. She looked tired and I had to ask myself if something was wrong. I was also curious why an otherwise immaculate hotel would allow that very large waiter by the kitchen door to go unshaven, wear too small of a uniform and pace back and forth with his hand in his jacket that way. I just decided that good help must be hard to find, even in Sin City. Okay I’ll admit it. I wanted to know where Luna was too. I really didn’t know what was happening between us. Things had been strained and I was even thinking about breaking up with her and leaving England. “Spenser, I want to talk to you,” Ginny said in a tone that let me know that it wasn’t a request. “I know that you want to know where Luna is too. You really don’t know what is happening between you. Things have been strained and you are even thinking of breaking up with her and leaving England.” Huh? “We think that you need to forget this foolishness and make matters right between you. All of us want you to be deliriously happy the way we are.” “Ginny…” “Shut up Harry! No hold on…Harry is going to speak to you in private.” “Ginny…what?” I started to ask. Boy she was in a bad mood that morning. “Harry…you need to speak to Spenser in private…now!” she concluded. “What? Oh right. Spenser I need to speak to you in private…now!” His tone was suddenly as harsh as Ginny’s had been. Still…I was surprised when Harry did get up and pull me off in the direction of the restrooms. As we walked, I once again noticed the large unkempt waiter at the kitchen door. He really did seem completely out of place there, and as we passed him, I saw that all of his attention was on us and he appeared to be very surprised that we were leaving. A moment later we heard a large crash and looked back see him on the floor under a tall food cart, buried beneath dishes, platters of pancakes and a fair amount of maple syrup (the real kind–this was a first-class hotel). Judging from the man’s smoldering sleeve and the two shish kabob skewers nearby, he must have been nailed by a cart exiting the kitchen and then knocked into the flaming delicacy. The staff seemed to be caring for the injured man, so Harry motioned for us to keep going. In the restroom, Harry proceeded to tear into me as if he were Mrs. Weasley dictating a howler. The conversation was very personal and his arguments were persuasive albeit excessively theatrical…that is all that I will say about it here and now. At one point however, he shocked me when he drew one of his wands and had it aimed at my head in a dramatic show of frustration. Catching himself, he fired the stun bolt into the ceiling instead. To our amazement a large man dressed in black fell through the roof tiles, landing unconscious at our feet. We assumed that it was a Muggle maintenance man working up there and the mask was to protect him from the dust. After checking to see that he was alive, we carefully slipped out. He would be fine (we hoped) and we really didn’t want to explain this to the hotel. We also decided not to mention this part to the girls yet. The rest of our meal was relatively quiet, and apart from the remarkable amount of food that everyone else consumed, fairly anticlimactic. Hermione insisted on paying for the meal with part of her winnings, which put Ron in a sour mood once again. A kiss from his wife did little to help, and as we walked Harry and I noticed that he had fallen behind. We turned to see him studying one of the computerized slot machines, and then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a gold Galleon. “Ron…No!” I yelled, but it was too late. A very large amount of Wizard money has at least some residual magic associated with it, and definitely was not meant to be used in a networked electronic Muggle device. It took exactly five seconds for all electricity in a three-block radius to be lost for the day. “Sir, we have a report back concerning the first assassin teams. I’m afraid that it is not good.” “Well…what is it Gerard?” Sir Forsythe asked. He was busy in his greenhouse pruning his roses, totally unaware how cliché that was for the story. “I thought we were using Malcolm now sir?” Igor asked. “Much too generic. Now tell me what happened man!” “The Wizard appears to be extremely cunning. He rendered the first two incapacitated within minutes of each other. I have arranged to have them moved to the Our Lady of the Excruciating Stomach Pain Wizard hospital, but they will be of no further assistance to you in this matter. “The team of stealth Ninja Wizards currently appears to be trapped in an elevator with a group of Muggle tourists due to a mysterious power outage. They have followed your instructions not to disapparate in front of them. This situation was no doubt caused by Mr. Potter as well. Your final assassin has been informed, and has indicated that he will make his attempt later today.” “Potter is much shrewder than I anticipated. Anyway, somehow I knew that this last man would be the one to complete the job. He is easily the most professional of the lot. Wouldn’t you agree Lloyd?” “Yes sir, of course,” you bloody git, he didn’t add. Wi th all the electricity out, we spent the day elsewhere wandering around the city and sampling the tourist attractions. I had been unable to find Luna before we left and continued to check back at the hotel for her, but without any luck. Throughout the day the desk clerk gave me messages from her, but they said very little and did nothing more than keep me from worrying. Actually, that was not true, I was worried sick. By late afternoon, Hermione had cooled down enough to let Ron visit some more casinos, and I took the opportunity to introduce Harry to roulette. Ginny was in a bit better mood, but excused herself saying that she needed to rest her feet. I had forgotten how little sleep some of us had the night before. We promised to meet up with her in an hour, and everyone agreed to make it an early evening. After watching a game for several minutes, and listening to my ongoing commentary, Harry seemed comfortable enough to want to try his hand at it. We took a pair of seats between a man with an exceptionally large cowboy hat and a couple that appeared to be on vacation from Japan. Harry lost the first four spins, but then surged forward in chips after an accidental bet on the double zero. Harry was stunned and the cowboy was less than happy. “That’s some luck you got there kid,” he said, then stuck out his hand to shake Harry’s. “Runyun Pietripper’s the name…I’m in boots.” It was obvious to both of us that the man was fairly drunk. “I can see that you are wearing some,” Harry said. “No…no, my company manufactures them down in Dallas,” he slurred “Oh…sorry. My name is Harry Potter, and I’m in uh…brooms.” “You’re kidding. You must be with that shindig over across town. Well I can take a joke son.” “No…honestly…I really am Harry Potter.” All at once the man reached out and pulled up Harry’s hair revealing the scar. A heartbeat later he was on the floor with a wand in his face. I indicated to the wheel attendant that we didn’t want any trouble and she seemed to understand and was sympathetic. The Texan had clearly initiated the trouble She had already motioned for some security to join us, and as they led the man away I heard over the one guard’s radio that there were goats loose near the casino offices. I gave the girl a nice tip and asked for directions. Before we went after Hermione though, Harry took the trouble to show the very surprised girl his passport proving he was telling the truth. We were surprised ourselves when she then asked for Harry’s autograph. The Japanese took his picture. After retrieving a much richer Hermione, we began a careful search of the complex trying to find Ron and Ginny. We had no luck in examining the restaurants, shops, lounges, or the casino proper. Word seemed to travel quickly about what had happened to Harry Potter, and seven or eight times we were stopped by people wanting their pictures taken with him. Almost all of them involved small children outside the gambling areas, and Harry couldn’t refuse them. Following an especially long hug from one tiny little girl, I was not the least bit amazed when Harry asked me to escort Ginny and him to the convention the next day. After almost an hour of looking, we carefully let ourselves into one of the empty showrooms. At one of the front tables sat Ginny with her feet propped up, and enjoying what looked like some sort of rehearsal. There on stage with the band was Ron playing a very lively tune on a borrowed tenor saxophone. Beside him singing was…well, you would never believe me. Regardless, it was an excellent rendition of Danken Schoen. We joined Ginny who seemed to be in a much improved humor, and when the song had ended, we all bounced to our feet in wild applause. The gentleman slapped Ron on the back and came down to join us while a stage crew began moving the set around. “Ginny is it? Your brother is an amazing talent. I’m glad that he wandered in here this afternoon. Ron I don’t suppose that you could join us this evening for a couple improvised numbers during the show?” “Actually sir, we’re all on a sort of second honeymoon…except for Spenser here. This is my wife Hermione and my brother-in-law Harry Potter.” The man was really a consummate gentleman. He didn’t even blink at the mention of Harry’s now Muggle-famous name. Actually, I was flattered when after being introduced to me, he mentioned that he had read Luna’s and my children’s book Johnny And The Runaway Bulldozer. “Sir, we’re ready to test the fireworks display for tonight,” one of the hands called down from the stage. Our host waived and a moment later we were rewarded with about ten seconds of small explosions and colorful sparks raining down behind where he would perform. Seamus would have loved it. A few moments after it finished, there was a loud cry followed by a very pronounced thud backstage. The same crewman came running out with a frustrated expression and shaking his hands above his head. “We had another one up on the catwalk sir, and this guy is dressed really weird.” “Ah…it’s either another photographer or an overzealous fan. You would be surprised how often this happens. Listen folks, at the very least I would like to invite you a dinner show as my guests before you leave. It will give Ron a chance to change his mind. I can promise you a little entertainment, an excellent meal and I’ll even provide you with a very nice bottle of wine from my own vineyard.” “We accept sir,” Ron quickly said, “but we’ll have to decline the wine. Hermione is expecting another baby…our fourth.” Okay where did that come from? “Actually, Ginny and I are expecting our second child now as well,” Harry said then. Hold on…where did THAT come from? “By the way Spenser…we’ve all decided…you and Luna get to be godparents,” Ginny finally said. Thud. ***** “Sir Forsythe, I am very sorry to disturb your bubble bath,” Igor said, knowing full-well that he really wasn’t sorry at all. “I thought that you should know…” “Oh…no…Louis! Please don’t tell me that we lost another assassin.” “Igor sir. He suffered second-degree burns and injuries from a thirty-foot drop. The ninjas were also ineffective as well I’m afraid. After they were extracted from the elevator, they were unable to discern which of dozens of look-alikes was the actual Potter…if any. They were finally chased from the Muggle convention by a large group of children wearing white plastic armor and brandishing something called blasters.” “Muggle children?” Sir Forsythe screamed, rising up out of his bath. Igor truly wished that he hadn’t done that. “Sir you were extremely emphatic that none of them should attract any unnecessary attention to themselves,” the butler reminded him. “Enough! Theodore, bring me my robes. I will deal with this thrice-cursed Wizard myself!” “You can’t be serious sir.” I hope he breaks his neck. “You haven’t fought a duel in several years Sir Forsythe.” Well, I have been considering retirement. “Certainly I am serious Charles! I…uh, don’t suppose that you’ve seen my wand recently have you?” We met up the next morning in the lobby and I was once again stunned to my toes (it was getting to be a habit on this trip). The four of them were dressed in Wizard robes…dress robes. I decided that they simply wanted to get into the spirit of the party. Harry had even combed his hair back (as best he could) revealing the lightening bolt. The evening before, after obtaining an anchovy, liverwurst pizza for Hermione and a pickle, sauerkraut and tuna fish milkshake for Ginny, the four of them somehow managed to get me back to the hotel. They repeatedly offered apologizes for dropping those bombshells on me the way that they had, but they weren’t entirely sure that I had understood them. After applying an anti-hyperventilating spell to me, they excused themselves for the evening, leaving me propped up in a lobby chair. Once I recovered my senses, I retrieved one last message from Luna, which merely said that she would very likely see me the next day. She was tired and did not want to be disturbed that evening. For a second night in a row I got little sleep. I was pleased that this wasn’t the case for the other girls who were looking dramatically better. They appeared well-rested and again had huge appetites. After another nice breakfast, and five minutes of Hermione pulling Ron away from the casino, it was decided that we would move on to the Convention Hall. Hermione saw that I kept scanning the area for a sign of Luna. “Spenser, we are meeting her down the street in two hours,” she explained. “Please try to enjoy yourself until then.” I nodded but didn’t answer. The exhibition was actually a very nice one. They had displays from several of my favorite television shows and movies, and at one I even convinced my friends that someone else had invented the word feldercarb. There were comic book displays that fascinated Ron, toys that included figurines of all of them, and a large number of booths trying to sell feeble souvenirs. My favorite area however was where a number of fan fiction website tables had been set up. These promoted various places online where members could contribute books and stories supporting their favorite subjects. We had a number of heated arguments when some of them that insisted that Harry would eventually end up paired with Hermione, Ron with Lavender and Ginny with Neville. It took all four of them to hold me back when one site’s table was strongly encouraging a Luna and Draco Malfoy union. Sometimes the internet could really be evil. We finally found a table promoting a website called Sink Into Your Eyes, which was the only one at the convention that got it correct. The person on duty at the table at the moment was a very ugly, lazy and slow-witted man of about forty-six named Eric. He had short gray, balding hair and seemed a little too preoccupied with a large cup of coffee (at least he said it was coffee). He was mean to the children that came near the table (or at least short with them), and totally ignored the conspiracy fanatics that insisted that Snape was really a Greta Garbo clone. What did win him points was his immediate ease in accepting that Harry and the others were actually who they said they were. There really were Muggles that believed in magic. “I wondered if you would ever show up at one of these shows,” he said. “It’s the clearest thing in the world that her books were biographical works, not fiction. I’m glad that we were right about the four of you ending up the way that you did…oh, and that you didn’t die. I don’t suppose that you can give me a clue about how things end?” “That would be cheating,” Hermione said with a big grin. She also knew that I had requested not to be included in anything having to with the biography, but she shared my blood regardless. “Oh very well…I hit Ron with a shovel to get him to say he loved me. A crazy American writer and I are related. Ginny has had two identical cousins. We all participate in a race around the world. Someone unexpected actually built Hogwarts. Harry’s guardian angel took him back in time to help a very mean old man. Dobby the house elf gets drunk one day and nearly destroys Hogwarts. Oh and yes…Luna and an original story character are in love.” I heard it, and her words actual hurt a bit. I waited for the man’s comments about us. “That is the most ridiculous thing that I have ever heard. Hermione…um, Mrs. Weasley…if you had really hit Ron with a shovel that way, you would have knocked some good sense into him. The rest of it…well, I’ll take it verbatim from you. So who’s this guy with Luna Lovegood? As long as he’s a nice guy, a gentleman and not a Yankees fan…” Huh? I was getting so tired of saying that, even to myself. “Harry…mate, take a look at this art people are displaying,” Ron said in an excited voice. “It’s bloody brilliant! Look at this picture of all of us. There’s you, Ginny…Hermione and me…there’s Luna, Seamus, Dean, Lavender and Neville.” Ron caught himself, and everyone was self-conscious for a moment. “Spenser…someone will draw your picture some day,” Ginny told me with a sincere smile. I gave her my very best in return. “I hope not. It might scare little children.” This really was all their story, not mine. We spent what turned out to be a very pleasant two hours roaming around the hall. Everyone thought that the four of them were either exceptional fans or participants. It turned out that once again I was wrong…extraordinarily wrong. Instead of being a painful reminder of past occurrences, it was in reality the perfect medicine for all of them. When I write my stories about Harry and Ginny, I set out to do a number of things. Naturally I intend to entertain and promote the Harry/Ginny and Ron/Hermione pairings to unsuspecting Muggles, but more than anything I write the stories for my friends to read themselves. They are both a contribution to the chronicles and a focal point for Harry to reflect on past events. If they got a laugh or two out of reminiscing…so much the better. The couples shared their experiences with small groups of Muggles, discussed the story with the fans, dropped teasers about what was going to occur in the last book (mostly were not believed) and signed countless autographs for children that did believe who they were…or at least thought that they had something to do with the movie. Actually, I had strong-armed the hotel management into obtaining another surprise for my friends for later. The group that met up with me back at the fan fiction table was walking on air. Ginny gave me a hug and suddenly I was feeling perfect myself. I couldn’t wait to go find Luna and have a very long talk with her. I wanted to bring here back here and introduce her to the Muggle perspective of Harry’s world. I would even risk introducing her to the ornery, cantankerous Eric who had offered to help me post stories to their website. “All right people, if you are ready…the love of my own life is awaiting us…wherever it is that you said she is,” I told them. “We didn’t say. Are you absolute sure how you feel about her Spense…really sure?” Harry asked. I looked him in the eye and tried to read what he was thinking. “I’m as sure as Hagrid is tall Harry.” “Good. Now I will tell you one other thing…we all want to apologize to you in advance for something.” “Oh great! I remember the last time you said that to me. Ginny is expecting triplets? No…the milkman is the baby’s father and we need to kill him!” I blurted out, almost believing it after everything that had happened over the years. Harry just smiled, then Ron and him each took an arm and led me out of the hotel. A ten-minute walk brought us to a very nice little white building, which despite its ornate exterior, contrasted somehow with the surrounding hotels and casinos. It had some wonderful flowerbeds with a variety of colorful rosebushes and shrubberies. Near the front door there was a small fountain with a cherub shooting water from its mouth. A moment later I saw the sign. “Chapel of Potential Perpetual Bliss! Weddings while you wait! Drive-thru available on Monday, Wednesday and Friday! All major credit cards accepted! Oh no you don’t!” Harry and Ron tightened their grips, while Hermione cast an anti-Apparation spell as they dragged me inside. “You can’t do this to me guys! This is Harry and Ginny’s story!” “We can spare a few paragraphs Spenser,” Ginny said then laughing. “Now let us see if I can do this correctly. Bibbidy Bobbidy Blue!” Suddenly I was standing there wearing a matador’s costume. “I believe that it was supposed to be Boo not Blue Ginny,” Hermione gently offered. “Oh yes, of course.” A second attempt had me in a very nice set of my own dress robes, which unfortunately included a tie. Ron gave the girls a very mean look, no doubt wondering why someone hadn’t offered that spell when he had been forced to wear those ridiculous robes to the famous Yule Ball. Once again they took me by the arms and led me into the chapel proper, and I was fighting them all the way…that is until I saw my parents, Uncle Theodosius and Aunt Beatrice, Gun’r and Maggie. What was going on? How had they pulled all of this off? A moment later the minister and Mr. Lovegood escorted Luna in through a side door. Harry and Ron were able to release their grips. Describing the way that she looked in her wedding gown…the way that I was feeling then…it would take another ten thousand words at least. Suffice it to say, she was stunning and I was stunned. Her father gave me her arm, and then whispered something about it taking me long enough. I turned to Harry and Ron, and nodded my thanks. “You two need to flip a Galleon to see who will be best man.” Now naturally I was fairly well occupied for the rest of the day, so I am relying on the others’ notes for a lot of this. Far be it for me to leave a story unfinished. Uncle Theo not only obtained another bridal suite for us (with a view), but also confirmed that the other two couples had the tickets to that night’s special event. It seems that Harry’s counterpart, the actor from the movies, was making a special promotional appearance that evening. A very accommodating hotel manager even arranged for backstage passes…after our uncle insisted on escorting them. From what I was told, everyone was more than a little nervous about the whole matter. Harry had repeatedly declined invitations over the years to be personally involved in any of the projects. They all preferred intermediaries interviewing them, sketching their likenesses and taking notes about various events. The resulting work however had been masterfully done and extremely satisfying. I knew that only the convention and their recent exposure to the Muggle fans there had changed their minds. As they were led onto the stage, all four were amazed at the amount of activity associated with the upcoming presentation. Technicians were adjusting the lights, testing the sound system and toying with backdrops that they imagined were suppose to resemble Hogwarts. A number of people were dressed up as Witches and Wizards; no doubt Muggles hired for the event. This was confirmed when a young lady with a clipboard approached and complained to them about being late. Then she saw Uncle Theo. “Mr. Bear…I wasn’t aware that you were staying with us.” “Miss Dove…it is so good to see you again. These young people are part of my family, and they will be treated accordingly. They are here to see our guest and I will personally vouch for them. Do you understand?” She let out a frustrated sigh, but then gave him and them as sincere a smile as the stressful situation permitted. “It’s too bad. They are far too old, but we are desperately in need your characters to participate in the introduction. I see that you have even come in costume.” “Actually, would you believe that we just came from a wedding dinner?” Ron offered. Uncle Theo excused himself, and the group was then led to the far side of the stage where a young man was deep in conversation with someone that they assumed was portraying Professor Dumbledore for the day. As he turned to meet them, it was a toss-up as to who was the more surprised. Harry and he just stared at each other, apparently marveling at the uncanny resemblance. Real-Harry was the first to speak. “Um…I thought that is was time that we finally met. Believe it or not, my name is Harry Potter…really. This is my wife Ginny and Ron and Hermione Weasley. I realize that this seems unfathomable, but we are…I am...” It was a credit to the character of the young actor that he remained patient with our Harry, even if he obviously didn’t believe a word of what he was being told. No doubt the teenager had experienced a number of strange encounters with fans over time, and simply chose to play along for now. Offering his hand, it was Actor-Harry’s turn to speak. “Good afternoon…Harry…I’m… Good Lord!” he said as he caught sight of the once again produced passport. He was clearly thinking that the man must be an extremely dedicated (or mental) devotee to have legally assumed the name of the character. As for his appearance…surgery, hair color, maybe make-up? Ginny’s approached and studied the actor for several seconds as well. She knew that the girl who portrayed her had hazel eyes, but otherwise the resemblance there had been extremely noteworthy when they had watched the film. He himself gave Ginny a long look that supposedly was either surprise or…no come to think of it; they all agreed that it was definitely shock on his face at still another resemblance. Turning back to Harry, “You really changed your names to match the characters?” he asked. “No…no those are our real names. We are really Witches and Wizards,” Ron said. This got an angry look from his wife and a scared one from the actor. “In a moment you will all be dead Witches and Wizards,” a man in a Death Eater costume said as he staggered toward them. It was a costume wasn’t it, Harry thought then. A clearly exasperated man accompanying him made him doubt that this was part of the show for some reason. He pulled both his wands out, but held back a spell in front of his Muggle host. The other man did not, but the bolt went wild and merely punched a hole in a plywood drop. His companion reached over and grabbed the wand from his hand. “Igor…what are you doing? Help me kill them!” he shouted, tearing off his mask. “We must avenge Lord Voldemort!” “Sir Forsythe…thank you very much for finally getting my name correct, but I’m afraid that I have just resigned.” “Igor? That’s awfully cliché for this isn’t it?” Ron asked. “See…see! I told you that we should have stuck with Mortimer!” With that he grabbed back his wand and turned to face Harry. A mild stun bolt threw the older man back against the wall. “I really am sorry about all this Mr. Potter. His name is Sir Forsythe MacGillicuddy…he was only knighted when he threw himself on a box of Army rations and thus saved the Queen’s life. I’m afraid that he pictures himself to actually be an exiled Death Eater, but in reality even the Dark lord didn’t want him.” Harry looked around and saw that no one was close by any longer. Only the young actor had trusted them enough to not take cover. “Hocus Pocus! Igor, do you think that you could deal with this rabbit before leave his employ.” “Yes sir and it has been a great honor to finally meet you. Come Sir Forsythe,” he said, picking him up and quickly exiting. From the opposite end of the stage, hotel security had finally arrived, accompanied by Uncle Theo. “Harry…everyone, are you all right? Holy smokes! He does look like you did at his age. I’m sorry…I’ll really have to go see the films now,” he said. Hermione gave him a quick hug to let him know that everything was fine. After several seconds of consideration, the teenager approached Harry and once again began to study him. Smiling back, Harry brushed back his hair to reveal his all-too-real scar. Uncle Theo then motioned the security people away. “You really are a Wizard? It’s actually true, and you are Harry Potter?” “I am really, truly Harry James Potter. We are all actually those people. It is all true and I must say that you and your friends have done a magnificent job with our story. I may get in trouble for this, but I am going to tell you that it will have a relatively happy ending.” After a moment’s consideration, Harry handed the actor the myrtlewood wand that he had carried for so long as a backup. “Here…you’ve earned a real one, although your prop resembles mine more closely.” The young man stared back at them, no longer afraid or even apprehensive, but rather in complete awe at these revelations. He knew that he couldn’t ever tell anyone…who would believe him? After nearly a minute, the stage manager approached and indicated that it was time for the presentation. Harry and the others would have to leave. “Hold on please.” “No…it’s time for us to go. Please remember us if you will…and thank you for what you have done for me. Great job!” Harry smiled, but without waiting for a reply, he turned and walked back off the stage to find Uncle Theodosius. Both girls gave the actor a quick kiss on the cheek before running to catch up. When they had linked up on the far left side of the hall, Ron was the first one to speak. “Well Harry, what did you think? Will he do?” Ginny leaned into Harry, and with his arm around her, they both felt exceptionally good. They felt as if something important had been complete there. Less than a heartbeat later the curtain came up and the Muggle Wizard pretenders escorted the other Harry out to the foot of the stage. The crowd went wild, leaping to their feet, both yelling and applauding him. “Ladies and gentleman…I would like to introduce you to Mr. Harry Potter!” “I think that he…all of us will be doing exceptionally well now Ron,” Harry said Mischief managed! A/N: This was not mean to be a spoof, but rather a humorous tribute to the books, movies and Harry Potter fanfiction in general. My compliments and apologies to Don Rickles, Wayne Newton, Roy Clark, Daniel Radcliffe and of course J.K. Rowling. I intentionally refrained from using actual names as a matter of good manners if nothing else. It is entirely possible that Harry could have met all those people. As for Spenser actually avoiding Luna for seven years, and then needing to be kidnapped to a cheesy chapel...nor a bloody chance! This time it really is a work of fiction. Thanks! Eric B. |
| Reviews 9 |
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