Hey all! This was actually an assignment for a creativity class I took last semester. The assignment was to 'Interview' a creative person (eg write the assignment as if they are actually answering your questions) but I decided to make it as though Harry is asking Good old JK the questions that I had to answer in the assignment. So that explains the weird format. I got 100%, so I thought it might be worth sharing. Enjoy!

The night was still and quiet, even for Hogwarts, which was usually bustling with ghosts and portraits. The only noise that could be heard was the scratching of Harry Potter's quill against his parchment. This piece of homework, an essay on The Great Elven War for his History of Magic class, was turning out to be particularly difficult. Harry angrily crossed out the last word he had written and sighed. He turned to see how his friend, Ron Weasley, was fairing. To his surprise, Ron wasn't there. He looked to his other side. His other friend, Hermione Granger, was not there either.

He blinked. He was not in the Gryffindor Common Room, as he had been in previously. He was in what appeared to be a classroom, but not one he recognised. He shuddered.

"This is a dream," he told himself firmly. "I fell asleep doing my homework."

Harry noticed a door, and there was a light shining through the cracks. His curiosity overcame him. He cautiously crept up to it and opened it.

There was a beautiful room; everything was shades of dark red and royal blue. There was an antique table, set with expensive looking china, ready for tea. At the table sat a woman. She had the appearance of having aged gracefully. Her blonde hair was tied up in a sensible knot. What confused Harry though, was that she was dressed in typical muggle attire. Harry knew he had never met her before, but something about her was eerily familiar, and he couldn't pinpoint why. The woman put down her tea cup and acknowledged Harry's presence.

"Why, hello Harry."

He gave a start. How did she know his name? And then he remembered that everyone in the wizarding world knew his name, and that he shouldn't have been so surprised. He was the boy who lived after all.

The woman motioned for him to join her at the table. He was hesitant, but remembered that he was dreaming, and so what was the harm?

She poured him a cup of tea. She picked up her own cup and took a sip, and surveyed him.

"How much you've grown."

Harry furrowed his eyebrows. "Have we met before?"

She gave a soft chuckle. "No, I suppose not. Not formally anyway. My name is Jo." She held out her hand for him to shake. He did so, noting the calloused fingers.

"Are you a writer?" Asked Harry.

Jo smiled. "Yes, how did you know?"

"You have callouses where I used to, back when I used muggle pens." He took a sudden intake of breath. He should not have said that. This woman might not know anything about the wizarding world, especially if he judged by how she was dressed.

Seeing the look of horror on Harry's face, Jo laughed. "Don't worry, I know everything there is to know about the wizarding world."

"So you're a witch then?"

Jo shook her head. "Just a simple muggle, I'm afraid. I used to write books for children, but now I have started writing for adults too."

Harry took another sip of his tea. "Must be hard to focus that much. I can barely get through one essay."

"Being creative maybe a bit easier," she replied. She smiled as she glanced around the room. "Although, the right environment can help a lot too."

Harry furrowed his eyebrows. "What about your environment allows you to be so creative?"

"Sometimes, the place is just so inspired. I came up for the idea for my first book on a delayed train from Manchester to King's Cross, about a boy who catches a train to wizard school, but he does not know he is a wizard." (Harry pondered briefly about the familiarity of this.) "From there the ideas snowballed. I was a single mother when I first started. Amongst the noises of home, I could barely get anything done. I used to go to a café. It was a different kind of noisy, so I suppose that helped."

Jo stirred her tea before continuing. "As I gained popularity, I also got wealthier. I realised I could now afford to throw money at the problem. I checked into the Balmoral in Scotland." She gestured around her. "This room here in fact. It was so quiet and peaceful. They were so nice to me here. The first day of writing here went so well, and I guess it was a bit of superstition that kept me coming back. I think there's something enchanting about this room, don't you think? The atmosphere was lovely. It was here, after seventeen long years, that I finished my book series."

Harry nodded. "That's a long time."

Jo regarded him sadly. "Didn't seem like it at the time. I loved every minute."