Chapter 1: The Accidental Summoning

Author's Notes re: Chapter 1:

A 'caravan' is what's known as a 'trailer' in parts of the world. A mini-house on wheels sort of thing.

~ ~

"Oh, God," Trina said in mock anguish, collapsing onto a berth in her friend's room – a caravan outside the house. "Why did I even ask? I should have known you were doing something that's related to 'Harry Potter'-" Tony looked up from her computer and opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off by Trina's quick amendment, "-or to be more specific, Draco Malfoy!"

Tony only smiled. After all, she could hardly deny it.

"What is it with you and the bad ones?" Trina asked. "You always go for the bad characters, and your dating history isn't adorned with a shiny halo either."

Tony grinned and poked her tongue out at her best friend. "I'm just masochistic, I guess."

Katrina and Evelyn – more commonly known, as Trina and Tony – were as close as two friends could get without morphing into conjoined twins. Although, as a previous experience had taught them, they couldn't live in the same house for more than a week before all energies were turned from laughing, joking and submerging themselves in all things 'Harry Potter', to just trying to keep their claws retracted. Such a thing is hardly surprising, considering that they only had two things in common: their liking for animals – which Trina had a much more potent case of; and their liking of the 'Harry Potter' series – which Tony had the more potent case of.

"Poor you," Trina said, in mock sympathy, "Having the love of your life existing only in your head, and his means of protection and life-purpose dependant on a stick." She ducked a flying cushion.

"He's not the 'love of my life'!" Tony retorted. "And at least he has a better name than the boyfriend of yours in your head – 'Bon-Bon'." She said the nickname as if she were speaking of some foul-smelling, terminal disease.

"Well, it's better than 'Ron'," Trina defended herself. "I had to call him something else."

Silence descended over the caravan. Even the small fridge by the bed shuddered a little and went quiet. Seconds passed before Tony spoke, with a small smile.

"We're really sad, aren't we?" She couldn't help the smile broadening at the idea. "Our 'boyfriends', as we put it, are book characters some woman on the other side of the world in a train made up, and we still squabble over them."

She dissolved in laughter, which quickly spread to Trina.

"Well," Trina responded, chuckling, "at least since we know they're not real, we can work it how we want, and have a happily-ever-after ending."

Tony turned back to the screen of her laptop, that she had warming her legs as she browsed various 'Harry Potter' sites. She noticed she'd opened a site that had a peculiar address, which looked to be in a foreign language. She didn't know how she got there – just followed a link, she supposed.

"Hey, look at this," she said to Trina. "Some mystical site here is saying that 'if you have the faith to voice the impossible and then click this icon here, the aforementioned impossibility will show itself as a concealed reality'." She couldn't help the wry smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

Trina blinked.

"Okay," she said, in a tone effectively communicating her opinion of the ridiculous notion. "Really, what some people will believe these days…"

Tony agreed, rolling her eyes. "Is someone saying that everything people think is impossible, is actually real, if they say they think it's fake, and then click a button on a conveniently-available website?"

"When you put it like that," Trina commented, "it sounds even worse! If stuff like that were real though, it would be creepy. I mean, imagine if Hogwarts was real, and the Harry Potter series was a biography or telling-about-the-past thing."

"Historical reference?" Tony guessed.

"That's what I said," Trina responded with a perplexed look as if her friend had just repeated what she'd said down to the tone of her voice.

Tony laughed. "Yeah, that would be cause for concern. I'd hate to think the Big Bad of the world was a wizard who named himself something sounding like a bad cheese!"

Her face grew curious and she said, "I wonder what would happen if we click on it…maybe there's an animation or something."

"It'll be one of two things," Trina said. "One – absolutely nothing whatsoever will happen, so people would just sit there and click it until they realised just what they were doing, and that their life was very tragic. Or, two – you'd get a subscription form to fill out, so you'd actually have to pay to hear that rubbish."

Tony grinned sardonically. "And the correct answer is…" She paused for dramatic effect, before clicking the icon. "…drum roll, the envelope please…"

Her speech was never finished, as the monitor blinked to black, and the fan inside the unit gave an extra loud whir, before coming to a stop as the computer turned off.

Tony was incredulous, and a distinctly unimpressed expression grew on her face.

"I'm sorry, contestant," she continued. "Both answers were incorrect." The envelope says… 'A filthy, rotten virus'! Stupid computer, stupid Internet, stupid anti-virus software that was obviously sleeping on the job!"

Disgusted, she slammed the computer shut and returned it to the folded-out table.

"Do you think it's serious?" Trina asked. "Like, a really bad virus?"

Tony had her lips pressed tightly together in annoyance. "Well, usually when it packs up for whatever reason, it's fine after a re-boot. I'll try it tomorrow."

"Yeah," Trina said. "You'd been online for too long anyway. It's getting really late now – your family went to bed ages ago I think; all the lights are out in the house. Now, where's your sleeping bag in this mess? I need to make my bed up on this thing." She motioned to one of the side berths in the caravan. "Hey, throw me a couple of your pillows, will you?"

Tony was still simmering over her failed computer while she got ready for bed, and climbed between the warm sheets. Her mood was soon brightened with Trina frivolously making idle talk, and composing a short, funny, improvised story entitled, "Bon-Bon and the Order at McDonalds".

Even after the red numbers of the nearby digital alarm clock flicked to '12:00', they were still talking and laughing…until a confused, young-sounding, British voice outside loudly exclaimed, "Where are we? This isn't Hogwarts…"

Author's End Comments:

Your comments and input would be great, and hugely appreciated. This is one of the few stories I've ever written where I haven't had a fully thought-out plot right from the word 'go'. This is so I'm open for suggestions from readers/reviewers.