Harry Potter
and
the
Wicked Plot Hole
(caused
by a scary multi-media conglomerate and one whacked-out wizard)
# 4 Privet Drive was a rather ordinary sight to behold, except for the gardener. He was a short boy of 14, with messy dark hair and round glasses. Covered in sweat and dirt, Harry Potter stood up from weeding Aunt Petunia's flower bed, and checked his watch. He had exactly 23 minutes to finish the front yard before Aunt Petunia came out to 'inspect', brandishing her iron skillet and promises of no dinner for a week. With a sigh, he sank down to his knees.
But from a nearby bush came a strange rustling noise, as if an animal was trying to hide in the peonies and not quite succeeding.
"Sirius?" Harry whispered.
No answer.
"Dobby?"
Still no answer.
Harry got to his feet, and moved in closer to the bush. Taking the gardening shears, he hit something. There was no yelp. He poked it again. Still, just that odd rustling sound. Harry took his other hand, and pulled the leaves aside. He gasped.
Inside the bush was a swirling mass of blue matter. Harry poked it once again. This time the gardening shears stuck.
"Hey!"
Harry yanked on the shears, but they wouldn't budge. Maybe if he got the end that was in the blue stuff. Harry stuck his arm in to retrieve the shears… and was suddenly pitched forward, into the blue mass. He felt himself falling, like Alice down the rabbit hole. Just when he thought the tunnel would never end.
FLUMP! Harry was deposited, on his feet, into a bland white room. He shook his head and adjusted his glasses. He had the queerest feeling, as if he were being watched…
"Harry, Harry, Harry."
Harry froze in terror. It was a voice he had never expected to hear ever again. He slowly turned, his eyes taking in the blinding horror of shiny white teeth and wavy blonde hair.
It was Gilderoy Lockhart.
"Harry, Harry, Harry," Lockhart shook his head as he repeated himself, smiling broadly all the while. "I bet you never expected to see me again, eh?" Lockhart stood up from the desk he had been leaning on, and walked over to him. Harry backed away quickly, stumbling over his untied shoelaces.
"What are you doing here?" he cried out in a horse voice.
Lockhart's grin faltered.
"I take the time to orchestrate this so perfectly, and all you can ask me is what I'm doing here?" He sounded hurt. "Harry, my friend, this took months of careful planning…"
"Where am I?"
Lockhart swung his arm around, bringing attention to a large glass window. The sun was shining, and the tall buildings outside glinted with light. Harry guess they must be at least 30 stories above the ground. He wondered if he could summon his broomstick from this far away.
"You're in heaven, Harry…"
For one mad second, Harry conjectured that Lockhart must have killed him, and the place he had been sent, well – it certainly didn't seem heavenly to him, at least not if Lockhart was there.
"… You're in southern California."
Lockhart led Harry down the hall into a large conference room. "I'm sure you will be relieved to hear that I was put in charge of all the merchandise. We're starting out small, books, toys, candy… the like. But soon…" he rubbed his hands together greedily, "we'll move on to bigger and better things. Lunch boxes, socks, food products… and best of all… Happy Meals!" Lockhart let out a maniacal laugh that Harry would have not thought possible coming from behind those gleaming white teeth. "Don't cha love it Harry?! Isn't it the best?" He beamed in a way that told Harry he'd better say yes, unless he wanted very nasty things to happen.
"Er…"
"I knew you'd agree!" Lockhart's look was replaced by his old, innocent grin.
Harry picked up a little figurine of himself and examined it. His scar was on sideways. He set it down and sighed. "Why does Hermione have blonde hair and blue eyes?"
"It's marketing, my boy! Do you really think that your little girlfriend is pretty enough to sell? C'mon, get real! Look at Barbie, Harry, how d'ya think she sells?" Lockhart wiggled his eyebrows. "I tried to convince them to have her played by Tori Spelling in the movie, but WB put their foot down." He looked quite upset about this, Harry noted. "They did give in on the video game though. Books, smooks… I told them to cancel the last three. We can just have a television series, it would be much easier, and make more of a profit…"
Harry listened with mounting terror as Lockhart led him outside, explaining all of the plans he had for Harry & friends…
They stopped in front of a director's chair. The man sitting in it turned, and took off his sunglasses in disbelief. Then he smiled.
"Hi Harry, I'm pleased to meet you." the man stuck out a hand that Harry did not take. "Er… right… anyway, my name's Chris, and I'm the director for your movie. Dan got sick at the last minute, and we needed to shoot today to stay on schedule. So, ah, hope you don't mind, but we had Gilderoy bring you here for this scene."
Harry looked at Lockhart with disgust. "What's in it for you?" he asked.
"Harry, Harry, Harry," again Lockhart shook his blonde head, teeth sparkling in the afternoon sun, "I get to star in the sequel!"
"You're nutters, all of you," Harry muttered.
"Um, so don't you want to meet your co-stars?" Chris escorted Harry away from Lockhart, over to a corner where two rather miserable looking kids were standing. There was a boy, tall with red hair, and a short girl with brown eyes that looked like she had a pretty smile. But neither of the two were smiling just now. "Harry, this is Rupert and Emma." Chris smiled. The two kids scowled back.
"When can we go home?" asked Emma.
"Soon, soon." Chris's smile looked a little plastered on by now.
"When?!" chimed in Rupert.
"Er, soon, kids, soon. Get ready for your next scene." Chris hurried off.
"Um, hullo," said Harry. He could tell by their voices that these kids were not from southern California at all. "So who are you guys?"
"I'm Ron," said Rupert, "and she's Hermione," he pointed at Emma.
Harry looked at them incredulously. "If you say so."
"We thought this was going to be fun," pouted Emma.
"It was, at least for a while," interjected Rupert.
"Yeah, when we were in England, and Jo came to the set."
"But now it's hot…"
"And I'm tired…"
"And Dan's sick…"
"And I want to go home…" wailed Emma.
"Me too," added Rupert dully.
"Er… why can't you?" asked Harry, feeling a bit stupid.
"We signed a contract," sighed Emma dramatically.
"And it stinks."
"So why don't you just quit?"
They looked at him amazed.
"Cause we need the money."
"Yeah, for college and stuff."
"Well, you guys can stay if you want to, but I'm leaving." Harry looked around at the high walls surrounding the lot. He wondered if he could climb any of them. "You wouldn't happen to have a wand would you?" he asked.
"Here," Rupert offered. "I doubt it's worth anything though. These props are almost as bad as the merchandise."
Harry flicked it, and to his amazement and relief, sparks flew. Rupert and Emma's eyes grew wide.
"Excellent!"
"It never did that for me."
Harry ran over to the wall, and waved to the two. Then he flicked the wand at his feet. "Wingardium Leviosa!" He sailed over the high wall, and landed roughly on the other side.
Glancing around, he could see that he was catty-cornered from the building where Lockhart had brought him. In fact coming out the door right now was…
"He's escaped!" cried Lockhart. "After him!" Lockhart, Chris, and several other men started in Harry's direction. They were blocked by the oncoming traffic, and Harry sped off in the other direction.
Panting, Harry turned the corner, and headed down a steep hill. He could hear the men's angry shouts a block behind. Harry made a quick turn into an alley, and threw himself behind a dumpster. The footsteps grew closer, thundered on past. Harry wiped the sweat from his forehead, and quickly polished his glasses on his tee shirt. Then he crept out, and making sure the coast was clear, headed off in another direction.
Several blocks away, Harry ducked into the phone booth, slamming it's door behind him. He grabbed the thick LA phone book. "Library, library…" he murmured, finger running down the columns of the yellow pages. "Library… Public Library." With shaking fingers he dialed the number. As the phone began to ring, Harry glanced up and down the street nervously, keeping his eyes peeled for anyone with sparkling teeth and wavy blonde hair. Being in southern California, this was quite hard…
"Public Library, Sylvia Marion speaking, how may I help you?"
The voice sounded strangely familiar.
"Miss Marion?!"
The voice sounded confused. "Sorry, may I ask who is speaking?"
"It's Harry, Miss Marion."
"Harry - ?"
"Harry Potter."
"Harry Potter?!" It sounded as if she had dropped the phone. "What are you doing here?" she hissed through the other end.
"I'm sorry, but they're after me, I need your help!"
"Where are you?"
Harry scanned the area for street signs. "Sunset and Linden."
"Okay, I can be there in fifteen minutes. Hold tight." A clink told Harry that she had hung up.
"Okay – "
Fifteen very long minutes later, a green range rover pulled round the corner, tires screeching. Harry winced. Miss Marion rolled down the window. "Well, are you coming, or not?"
Harry hopped in.
They drove for quite some time, out of the sticky hot city. He had explained his whole dilemma to Miss Marion, who had asked him to please call her Sylvia. "Miss Marion makes me feel so school-marmish," she explained.
"So Miss Mar – er, Sylvia… where are we going?"
"To my house. I live in Tuscany Hills. You should be relatively safe there." She smiled and shook her head. "Lockhart. How did he manage to pull that off?"
"Which part?" asked Harry, rather confused.
Sylvia studied him for a moment, as if not quite sure what to tell him. "I have a book* at home, Harry, that explains this phenomena pretty vividly. It's one I've been interested in my entire life. It's the reason I became a librarian." Harry looked at her, but her eyes were fixed on the road ahead. "The reasoning behind it," she continued, "is that books are worlds… universes even, within themselves. People read to get away from their troubles, to 'get into' a good story. You've heard that phrase before, haven't you?"
Harry nodded.
"So, the people in our world can get into your world by reading about you; but the question is – can you come into our world?"
Harry's head was swimming. It was like trying to figure out the time-turner. Better left for others to understand.
Sylvia continued on. "I'd been searching for a way for the longest time, moving from place to place. Then, in a small town in Michigan where I was the elementary school librarian, I found what I was looking for. People who thought a work of fiction… and I use the term loosely, Harry… 'fiction' was really so real, and such a threat, that their own sense of reality was skewed. People who believed you were real, Harry, and had a reason to get you." She furrowed her brow. "But why, then, why, does this not happen more often? There are actually many children who think Hogwarts exists in our world, Harry. So why can't they call upon you?"
Harry was silent. It was odd, thinking that he didn't belong here, that this was not his true 'world'.
Sylvia suddenly hit the steering wheel in frustration, making Harry jump. "So how could Lockhart've gotten around it? How did he figure it out?" She lapsed back into silent thought for the remainder of the ride.
They pulled into the driveway of a very nice, modern house. Harry commented on this, and Sylvia rolled her eyes.
"Everything's modern here in California."
They walked in through the front door. A little lizard went zooming under a pot in the entrance, which was flanked by plants and cacti. Hanging on the stucco walls were several bright pictures.
"Did you do those?"
"Yeah, actually."
"They're quite good."
Sylvia beamed. "Thanks."
He followed her into the kitchen, where she threw her straw purse on the counter.
"Want something to eat?"
Harry's stomach rumbled. He realized he was starving. "Sure."
"How's peanut butter and jelly? I know it's nothing next to Hogwarts…" she said apologetically.
"Oh, no, that's great!" he exclaimed. "Remember, I still have to live with the Dursleys for three months each year."
"True, true." She ducked back behind the fridge door.
Soon Harry and Sylvia had finished their sandwiches. She took him on a tour of the rather large house.
"…Um… TV's in there, along with the books… here's the bathroom… and you can stay in here."
It was a nice room, tan and blue, with a view outside. Harry flopped down on the bed.
"I bet you're exhausted. I'll leave you to your own devices. I'd offer you some PJ's, but I doubt you're partial to fluffy clouds and sheep."
He grinned and shook his head. "No, I'll be fine."
"I'll be downstairs if you need anything." She turned and walked out of the room.
Harry took a very well deserved rest.
The following morning, Harry awoke to the sound of a coffee grinder. He blinked, and reached for his glasses. Slipping them over his nose, he looked at the clock. 11:30. He must have been more tired than he thought. He headed downstairs toward the noise.
Sylvia was standing there in her robe, draining the last of a mug of coffee. "I'm going to go get dressed. There's your breakfast, on the counter."
Harry sat down and picked up the
paper. He wondered if they had the funnies here too, in this
different-world-America. But flipping through, a headline caught his eye. "Sylvia?"
She came hurrying down the stairs. "Yes?"
"Is this…" he tried to think of how to say it, and gave up. "Is this my – author?"
It was the lady he had seen last with her arm around the griffin. The headline read "Acclaimed British Author Missing Since Sunday."
Peering over his shoulder, Sylvia quickly read the article. "No trace… publisher called several times… deadline… not home… daughter with sister Di for weekend… call number if seen…" Sylvia scribbled down the telephone exchange. "That is definitely odd. It has to have something to do with Lockhart, just has to…" she started mumbling to herself again. Harry sat down, and stared into his bowl of cereal. The milk was turning the flakes soggy, and the whole affair was looking less and less appetizing by the minute.
"C'mon, Harry!" Sylvia jerked Harry out of his chair.
"But I didn't eat my breakfast."
"We'll stop by McDonald's or something…"
True to her word, they stopped at a McDonald's on the way into the library. Though there were a few McDonald's in London, the Dursley's had never taken Harry to one. He got a Happy Meal, and was intrigued by the little toy that came with it.
"Look, Sylvia, it's a tiny plastic firebolt!"
Sylvia's eyes grew wide. "Harry, J. K. Rowling must be in trouble! That's one thing she would never allow Warner Brothers to stoop to! Here… you can take that in the car."
Harry was very careful not to drop his cheeseburger on the upholstery. The car smelled new. Uncle Vernon would definitely approve of it. "How did'ga get s'much money anyway?" he asked, mouth full of French fries.
"Pardon?"
He wiped his face. "Sorry… I was just wondering how you got your nice house and this car on a librarian's salary."
"Mmm… mostly, I inherited a great deal. My parents died when I was little and on my 18th birthday, all their assets went to me, including stock in what was at the time a little business called Apple." She grinned.
"I'm sorry about your parents."
"Same here. I guess that's a reason why people like you so much, Harry. They can relate. Here we are…"
They had pulled in to a parking lot behind a large, imposing marble building. Sylvia hopped out. Harry followed her around the corner and into the air-conditioned building.
"I have to do a little research," called Sylvia. "Find something to read." She gestured to the thousands of shelves around the main entrance.
Harry wandered around, and found himself in the children's section. From there, he could see Sylvia, flipping madly through several reference books. A display caught his eye…
"Harry Potter…" He took the thickest book, the one Sylvia had thrown him in what he had thought until just recently had been a dream. He flipped through the pages, stopping at some points to read. By the final chapters, he was riveted. Then -
"Sylvia!" Harry called out in astonishment.
"What?"
"She got it wrong!"
"What wrong, Harry?" Sylvia called over in exasperation.
"My Mum came out of the wand first, not my Dad!"
"Because Voldemort killed her last…" Vivian murmured.
"Yeah… so why – "
Sylvia raised a finger to her lips, motioning Harry to be silent, and shut her eyes. She seemed to be thinking very hard. Harry was strongly reminded of Hermione.
Suddenly, her eyes flew open. "I've got it!" she exclaimed.
"Got what?"
"C'mon Harry, we're going to the printers!"
In the car Sylvia explained. "You see… there was a lapse in the real story, so Lockhart was able to slip through! I bet you anything that he caused the mistake in the first place!"
"But how would he be able to do that?"
"I'm not sure… but the plot hole allowed him into our world. It probably let you through too…" She looked at him desperately. "Harry, we've got to fix this!"
Sylvia had a friend that worked at the plant where some of the books were published outside of the city. It was an hour drive, but Sylvia and Harry were so tense that it felt much, much longer. Finally, they stopped at a dusty looking office building off a gravel road.
"This is it?"
"Um, yeah. Not much, is it?"
Sylvia stood at the desk, waiting for them to page her friend. Meanwhile, the receptionist kept giving Harry strange looks. Finally she got up and left. Harry and Sylvia exchanged worried looks.
She was back a moment later. "There they are sir!" She pointed a pudgy finger. And right behind her was none other than…
"Lockhart!"
"Harry, run!"
Harry ran off down a hall. For such a small building, this one seemed to have many interconnecting halls, and Harry soon found himself lost. Luckily, he figured, this would make him harder for Lockhart to find.
Then, he heard footsteps. He ducked into a cubicle off the side of some machinery. The footsteps grew closer.
"Harry?"
He sighed with relief. It was Sylvia.
"Sylvia, you scared me."
"Sorry, I could see you in the glass." Harry looked up to see a large glass window. On the other side was a room with a large, rumbling machine that looked as if it was stringing paper through…
"Harry! It's the printing press!" Sylvia's eyes were aglow. "Then this must be the main computer!" Sylvia sat down and began typing. "Alright!"
Soon, Sylvia was entranced, searching through the list of publications. "Aha! Here you are…" she jabbed a finger at the screen.
"Sylvia?"
"Yes Harry?"
"Um, do you know where the toilet is located?"
She sighed. "Round the corner, to the left, then the right. That's about where I lost them. Harry?" She looked him in the eye. "Be careful."
He nodded and headed down the hall.
He reached the bathroom, but it was locked. Harry frowned, and pulled harder. Still nothing. He brought out the wand Rupert had given him. "Alohomora!" The door swung open.
Harry almost yelled aloud. There, sitting on the floor of the men's room, was a lady.
The lady's eyes grew wide. "Harry Potter?"
Harry heard her glorious voice, devoid of any unfamiliar accent, and a wave of relief swept over him. It was her.
"Um, hi Ms. Rowling. I'm here to rescue you."
"Well," she stood up and briskly brushed herself off. "I daresay it took you a while! I've been locked in here for days…"
Harry stood there, jaw agape.
"Come on, Harry!" She said, walking past him. "We have to go fix that plot hole!"
"Actually, um, I did want to use the facilities."
"Oh, go ahead."
When Harry was done, they ran over to Sylvia, still working at the computer. She was scrolling desperately through the pages, searching for the error.
"Page 579," said Ms. Rowling, quite calmly.
Sylvia jumped at the voice, and her eyes lit up. "Oh… Ms. Rowling, it's a pleasure to meet you!"
"Please, it's Jo."
"Okay… Jo…" Sylvia tried to conceal her smile as she flipped to page 579. She scrolled down the page.
Jo squinted over Sylvia's shoulder. "Pear Drop?! Oops, wrong edition! Try around 650."
They found the error on page 667. Sylvia scooted over and let Jo at the keyboard. With a quick motion of her hands, the paragraph was rewritten. Sylvia clicked save the second she was finished. The machine came to a grinding halt, then started up again.
"You didn't let me proof-read!" said Jo, a bit ruffled.
"No time! C'mon, we have to get out of here before they realize what we've done." A noise came from the hall. "Quick, you and Harry find the hole before it closes. I'll stop them."
"But-" started both Harry and Jo. They looked at each other.
"Just go!" shouted Sylvia in exasperation, before running out toward the noise.
"She's definitely be in Gryffindor," Jo remarked.
"I don't know," said Harry, "she's a pretty good Ravenclaw candidate as well. Let's go."
They ran in the opposite direction of the voices that were coming closer and closer. There were a few shouts as Sylvia reached them. Harry shook his head, praying she'd be okay. As they turned the corner, they halted. There, blocking their path was a large blue membrane that seemed to swirl and change colours in the florescent light of the building.
"The Plot Hole," Jo breathed. "I'd never dreamed it would be so pretty… well, go on Harry, what are you waiting for?"
"What about Lockhart?" Harry asked.
"I'm sure we'll take care of him."
Harry, leaning a foot in the plot hole, turned toward her casually. "So… ah… Jo, what d'you have in store for me next?"
"Oh, Harry, I can't answer that question. Haven't you learned that?"
"Well," he replied, looking at his trainers, "thought I'd give it a try."
Jo smiled warmly. "The truth is Harry, I don't really control you."
Harry looked surprised. "Well then, who…?"
"I'm not quite sure of it myself. When you came to me, on the train, it wasn't a really… oh, I'm bored, let me imagine a character type of thing. You just walked into my head, looking rather lost, and I claimed you. I don't really 'own' you. No one really owns you Harry, except for yourself." She leaned back. "And the trouble you've given me!"
"I have?"
"Oh, dear yes! Especially in the fourth book… so many mixed messages. It was very hard to write. Unfortunately, that plot hole slipped it's way in." She grimaced. "But what's done is done… and what's to come will come."
"Hagrid said something like that once."
"Yes Harry, sometimes I wonder how much your world effects ours. And vice versa…"
Just then, a commotion came from around the corner. Harry stepped out in front of Jo, pulling out his prop wand. It was Lockhart. And in his grasp, wand between her eyes, was…
"Sylvia!" both Harry and Jo gasped.
"That's right," sneered Lockhart. "I've got your little friend. A few well placed memory charms, and you'll all be on your way to-"
He was never able to finish his sentence. "EXPELLIARMUS!" Harry bellowed. Lockhart's wand flew through the air. Jo snatched it and aimed it at him.
"Once again Gilderoy. Good thing you're not such a hot dueler, eh?"
Lockhart made a whimpering noise. "Petrificus Totalus!" Harry shouted. Lockhart fell to the floor in a full body bind.
"Well, that's taken care of him."
The three stood over the frozen body of Lockhart. He looked up at them, all three smiling.
"Remember Gilderoy," said Jo in a sing-song voice, "I can write you out for good!"
A fearful look came through Lockhart's eyes.
Harry flicked his wand, and Lockhart flew back through the hole. Then he turned to the two ladies watching.
"Sylvia, I don't know how to thank you…"
"Well…" she blushed a bit, "next time you visit, bring Professor Lupin along, would you?" She giggled, and Harry stood there amazed at this 30-odd lady acting like a love-struck school girl.
"Sylvia!" Jo laughed.
"Sorry!"
An idea came to Harry. "Hey, Jo, could you um… write out a character?"
"Harry, you know I can't do that…" she began, but her curiosity got the better of her. "Who?"
"Well, I was thinking… as no one likes Madame Pince anyway, and she's not an essential character…" Sylvia's face began lighting up in understanding. "Could she retire over the summer?"
Jo laughed. "Well, Harry, I'll see what I can do. Hermione would love that." She turned to Sylvia. "So, what do you say?"
Sylvia was positively glowing, yet she bit her lip with uncertainty.
"You don't have anything here," said Harry softly, "and you told me that you'd been searching for this your entire life."
"So I have, Harry…so I have…"
"So," said Jo, after a pause, "are you going, or aren't you?"
"Yes. Yes! I'm going," laughed Sylvia. "But if there are any more plot holes…"
"Oh, I might throw one in from time to time," laughed Jo. "if I decide I need some company."
Sylvia hugged her, and took Harry's hand. "Well Harry…"
"Take care, both of you…" said Jo. She took Harry's other hand in hers. "And Harry?"
"Yes?"
"Good luck. Remember, what happens to you, happens to all of us."
They shared a smile, and then, Harry and Sylvia stepped through the plot hole, and were gone…
* The book is Sophie's World, an awesome book that also teaches you all about history and philosophy. Try it out, and I hope I haven't given away too much. If so, "Obliviate!"