A/N: Ah, my latest project. Hello there, you may remember me from such series as Etam Luos, Hatred's Prisoner, and Break In The Darkness. As well as "We Shall Always Be With You" and "Looking Out Into The Night". Well, my friends (and new ones), this is a one-part fic that started as a day dream.... a day dream that all of us have had before.
To be completely honest, as this story wore on... I got bord, longing to start the 4th and last part of my "Renee Chronicles". However, it is an interesting read... giving you a view into my real world, and a glimpse into how I would enter the fantasy world.
Now, this is the last time I'm using this word processor, Micro. Works. To help with the typos (and don't flame me if you see any in here 'cause I know about it, thank you!) I'm switching to Micro. Word, which I should have been using all along. I won't bore you as to the reasons why.
And to my friends, and you all know who you are wonderful peoples, that have been following my works, I did promise you something different before you read more about our favorite girl, Renee. I promise to get crack'n on the 4th series... but in the meantime, enjoy "A Golden Opportunity".
DISCLAIMER: Everything Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. Everything else is me... so I guess it all belongs to me, hahah!
"A Golden Opportunity"
Now, we all know that there really isn't such a thing as magic or wizards or dragons or owls that deliver the mail. As much as we dream and hope and wish, there is no world where you can buy a magic wand and take a class that covers the transformation of objects into completely different objects. All of us, no matter what country we live in or language we speak, are unhappily aware that the fantasy world is simply that, fantasy. Not real.
That's what I thought. At least, I thought I did.
Because, something happened to me that would make an ordinary person immediately call the local mental hospital and lock me away for the rest of my life, with an overwhelming supply of drugs. What happened to me still has me thinking that I'm dreaming it all, but, looking at the proof that I own and the people I see often, I'm either still dreaming... or it really is real.
Perhaps if I tell you what happened, what I saw, who I met, and the place that I've been to... you can help me figure out if I'm really lucky, or legally insane.
It all started not too long ago, in August. My Uncle and Aunt live in a small town downstate, here in Florida. It's chock-full of old people and adult communities, not exactly the most ideal place for a teenager to roam. However, even with this knowledge, my parents dragged me into the car one hot Saturday morning and we were on our way to several hours of coffee drinking and adult dialogue. It was such a sudden road trip that I was without my CD player, sketchbook, or even my Harry Potter books!
The horror.
Upon our arrival, passing the automated gate of my Uncle and Aunt's community, I was immediately smothered with... "Oh my gosh! Look how big you've gotten!" and "What grade are you in now, young lady?". It's always the same reaction and always the same lecture. We all have gone through it, am I right?
Hour after boring hour, the coffee was poured, the conversations exchanged, the men in front of the TV football game, the woman in the kitchen. What was a teenager to do?
Explore. I guess, 'cause that's what I did!
"Uncle Donald?" I asked my uncle, who was chatting with my dad over how horrible the New York Giants were last season.
"Yes, what is it?"
"Uhh, do you think I can poke around a bit? Explore some?" I put on my sweet, little girl voice. Works all the time.
"Oh sure, sure! In fact, I have a whole room filled with old boxes that I could care less about. Feel free to rummage through there." He pointed down the hall of his two bedroom condo. I flashed my innocent smile, muttered a "Thanks", and stuffed my hands in my pockets as I walked into the spare bedroom.
Sure enough, the room was completely engulfed in large cardboard boxes. Some of them were labeled, some were not. The door of the room swung behind me, leaving only a crack of the light from the hallway inside. I felt for the switch on the wall, found it, and turned the light on. When my eyes adjusted to the light, I could see dust filtering through the air.
"God bless, someone call in the Endust army, we've got a situation!" I coughed, waving my hand in front of my face as I walked among the boxes.
Craning my neck, I read boxes labeled "Hats" and "Old Shirts" and "Junk". I passed those by, who on earth wanted to look at old shirts? Eeew.
It was the non-labeled boxes that interested me, who knows what treasures waited inside?
"Wait a sec, I'm in the condo of two old people. Treasures of old people would consist of bronze baby shoes and their first pair of dentures." I said to myself, as I kneeled over a particularly beaten looking box. Wiping the dust away, I laughed. "Well, maybe not dentures. They're not that old!"
Going back to the days of my childhood, I opened the box feeling like pretending to be a pirate searching for gold on a savage island. My eyes widened and I flashed a greedy smile as the flaps revealed..... junk.
"I should have known," I moaned, picking up an old piggy bank absentmindedly. I sank to the floor and my foot hit the box, making it's contents rumble away from their original places.
"This is so boring, I want to chew my arm off!"
I kicked the box on purpose, and there was a loud CLANG.
Startled, I sat up straight to look at the door to see if anyone noticed. Certainly my Uncle, no matter how unimportant this stuff might have been, would not want me kicking it! When I was satisfied that no one was coming, I glanced back at the box.
Something gold was shining, slightly obstructed underneath the mass of nick-knacks. With a curious look on my face, I reached into the box and pushed the stuff aside. Whatever it was, the golden shine was coming from what looked like a feather, peeking out from inside a small, really old looking case. I picked it up and opened it.
"Woah, how spiffy!"
A long, golden quill was tucked inside the case. It really looked like an antique, but there was no sign of ware. Every inch of it was gold, the feathers, every part, down to the tip.
"Oooh, I wonder if he has parchment in here! That would be so cool! I could write the way they do in the Harry Potter books!"
Excitedly, I carefully closed the case and got on my knees to search the box. After much coughing and banging of unwanted objects, I found a small stack of yellowed parchment lying at the very bottom, covered in dust. I blew off the dust and winced as it all flew into the air.
"Now, just some ink..."
Much to my despair, and after nearly dumping all the contents of the box on the floor, I did not find a single bottle of ink.
"Oh, for the love of everything fruity! Just my luck! Arrggg!" I moaned, getting off the floor and stomping my feet.
I searched what I could for the remainder of the afternoon, until I was called out to go home. My shoulders sagging at not being able to use the quill, I walked to the door to leave, but stopped. With a sudden idea, I grabbed the quill and the parchment and ran out to see my uncle.
"Oh, wow! I didn't know I had something like this in there," My uncle said, looking at the golden quill that I handed to him.
"Umm... do you think-?"
"Don't know where it came from, don't remember it." He interrupted, I grew impatient.
"Well, uhh..."
"Hey, look! There's an inscription on it!" He pointed at the metal part of the quill, and I looked despite my growing exasperation. It read:
Rof Ouyr Eeepdts Erised
"What does it mean?" I asked.
My uncle shrugged, still peering at it intently.
"Not in English, that's for sure. It don't look like Latin, not Greek either." He sighed, handing the quill back to me. "Well, this is of no use to me. Who writes with a quill these days anyhow? You can keep it, if you want."
"Woah? Really?" I put on a surprised look. "Wow, thanks. You wouldn't happen to have any ink, would you?"
He looked at me with a silly expression.
"No, I wouldn't think so... especially since I don't keep quills lying around." Laughing, he pulled me into a suffocating hug.
"You be a good girl now. Not much longer 'till you graduate, right?"
I nodded, secretly rolling my eyes. Graduation meant college. College means SATs. SATs means... math.
Eeew.
My parents ushered me to the car, the mysterious golden quill and parchment in my hands. Waving goodbye, I looked down at my treasures.
"Well, I should have some ink at home left over from AP art." I muttered.
Little did I know that upon returning to Orlando, reality would be questioned.
Sundays are usually "lie around the house" days. That particular Sunday was no exception. I had managed to find some ink that I had used in a project for AP art. AP means Advanced Placement, by the way. So, with all the materials needed to pretend that I'm a student at Hogwarts in my hands, all one had to do was figure out... how to use them.
Now, in Florida, the summer time is the worst time of the year. Especially in Orlando because it is so inland that we get no sea breeze, just dead, hot air. The air conditioner is a Floridian's best friend, but just like anything else, it can break down. That particular Sunday was particularly hot. Really hot. As in heat wave hot. And, the AC in my house decided to quit.
Oh, the horror.
Sweating like a pig, I decided to take my newfound treasures outside where it was actually cooler than it was inside. Leaving my parents to fiddle with the AC machine, I set up shop on the driveway, arranging my supplies. There was no breeze, but the shade of the tree along the pavement made a satisfactory air cooler.
Setting my elbows atop the make-shift desk I had made, I wondered what on earth to write with my new quill.
"Too bad I'm too old for that silly 'Write a Letter to Harry Potter' contest. With this stuff, I could be assured the top prize." I muttered, uncapping the ink bottle.
Several minutes passed with just my hand wiggling the quill to and throw, and my other hand running through my bangs.
"Well," I said finally, dipping the quill in the ink. "Who said that I couldn't write a letter to Harry anyway? Maybe I could post it on fanfiction.net!"
With my mind set, I put the quill to the parchment, looking curiously at the way the quill wrote.
Dear Harry Potter and friends,
Hi! My name is Kimberly, and I'm a huge fan of the stories about your adventures at Hogwarts. I live in Orlando, Florida and really wish that I could be with you in Britain instead of here where it's really hot and sticky.
I wish that I could study magic with you, and be a witch as well. Hermione would be happy to know that I read a lot, and the library is my favorite part of school too. Chess is certainly not my game, so Ron would have yet another person to beat. It would be really neat to play Quidditch with you as well!
Yet, I'm sorry to say, that all that is impossible because it's all not real. You are not real, Hogwarts is not real, and magic is not real. As much as I'd like to meet you all in person, and know that all of you and everything really does exist, it can only happen in my dreams.
No matter how old I get and where I go, I will always be a big fan of you, Harry Potter. I look forward to reading your next adventure!
Sincerely,
Kimberly
Holding up the parchment and reading it over, I gave a sad grin.
"Man, it would be so cool to know Harry Potter for real."
Continuing with my pretend letter to Harry, I got out an envelope and folded the letter to put inside. Using the golden quill, I addressed it to:
Harry Potter and Friends
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Britain
I stared hard at the sealed letter. How do you send mail overseas? I've never done that before... oh well, like I was really going to send it somewhere.
Suddenly, out of no where, a breeze picked up. At first, I was happy with the coolness running over my sweaty neck. Yet, when it got stronger and began to blow my writing things all over the place, I squealed. The ink bottle was knocked over. Panicking, I got on my hands and knees and began to scoop up as much of the spilled ink as I could.
"Oh fruit! Another black blob to add to the driveway's collection of oil drippings."
As suddenly as it came, the wind stopped, and I scrambled back to sit on the chair I had in front of the "desk". Setting the bottle down, my eyes widened with fear.
"Uh oh, where is it? Where's the letter?!"
The pile of unused parchment was in a neat pile like before, the golden quill tossed in it's case. Yet, the sealed letter was not there.
"Oh, come on!" I tore the desk apart, but the letter was no where to be seen. The driveway showed no sign of a letter.
Sulking sadly, I just stood in my spot a moment to reflect what happened. Then after a while, I shrugged and gathered my stuff, thinking that it was no big deal and that I had plenty more parchment to write another letter with.
As I turned and headed back inside, I never noticed the dark shadow of a bird flying off into the far distance, carrying a letter. Who knew?
Being in high school is not all that it's cracked up to be. First off, you have to get up at 6 AM and be at school by 7. If math is not your subject, having to do it at 7 AM does not make it any easier. Well it just so happens that math is not my subject, and I do have it first hour at 7:20 AM.
It was two days after I had written the letter to "Harry". I had pretty much forgotten about it, not to mention I had forgotten nearly everything other than the ability to walk at that hour of the day. My classroom is on the second floor, all the way at the back of the campus. So by the time I got up there that Tuesday morning, I got into my desk and did what I always did.
Went to sleep.
Well, maybe not. But I did hit my head on my desk and slumped into the black void of sleep depravation and the knowledge that in ten minutes you had to crack out your formulas and learn the point-slope technique. Why couldn't Florida schools start in September like everywhere else? I could have been in bed at that time!
No one else was in the room, which was odd because there were usually two other people in there with me before the bell. Not even my teacher, Mr. Arterburn, was there. I was completely alone.
"Good," I whispered to my desk. "I can snore now, not that I do..."
Apparently, the heat wave had taken effect on my school too, and the AC was broken there as well. My seat is the closest to the windows, and each one was open wide.
All of a sudden, something hit my head.
"Ahck, hey! What gives?"
I lifted my head as I ran my hands over my hair. What had hit me tumbled off from my head and landed on my desk with a small slap. At first, with my hands still poised over my hair, I just noticed that it was a piece of paper. Then, the world stopped. The air was gone. My eyes became the size of paper plates and my lungs collapsed.
Written on the paper, which was an envelope, was an address.
To: Kimberly
Orlando, Florida. USA.
The envelope was made of parchment.
I simply stared at it for the longest time, then I slowly looked around the room with my eyes. No one was in there with me, as it had been, but when I looked at the window to my left, I jumped completely out of my chair.
"Holy fruit!"
Sitting on the sill, looking very dignified yet exhausted, was a white owl.
"No..." I whispered, shaking my head slowly. "No, it can't... it can't, it's impossible... no."
The owl hooted sharply, making me jump again like a frightened cat. It began to pace the sill impatiently.
Without a word, I sat down slowly back in my chair, looking down at the envelope with a disbelieving expression. My hands were shaking as I carefully picked it up, still reading the address over and over.
Perhaps it was just a note from a friend, or a letter to me from the school. But why was there an address? Why would they send it on parchment?
Completely baffled and still taking in quick breaths, I opened the envelope nervously. Inside was a letter written on parchment. There was a sudden sharp squeak. It came from me.
Dear Kimberly,
I really don't know what to write, because you have me really confused. There are so many questions I need to ask you. First off, how do you know so much about my friends and I? Second, you wrote that magic is not real. Third, and this is what confuses me the most, is that you wrote that we are not real. What do you mean?
Obviously you know who I am, I would assume that those in America know about me. However, with your statements, it's possible that you are a muggle. If so, how do you know about magic and Hogwarts? And me and my friends?
I'm curious to know who you really are and how you contacted me.
Sincerely,
Harry Potter
I'm not sure how long I stared at those written words. I'm not sure what happened around me. All I know was that there was an owl on the window sill next to me and that I was holding a letter that apparently was written by Harry Potter!
But, that's not possible. Harry Potter is not real. He's a fictional character in a book! None of it is real! None!
Yet, who knew I had written a letter to him? No one did, not even my parents! It blew away with the wind, and no one in my neighborhood knows me or even cares. Who wrote this? Who was it really from? It can't have possibly been written by a fictional character, sent overseas by an owl, and delivered to me at school! That's crazy!
"Homework? Kim?"
I jumped again. Mr. Arterburn was in my face, clipboard in hand. The classroom was now filled with students, talking amongst themselves loudly.
"Hello? Do you not have it?" He pressed, giving me a studious stare.
"Uhh,"
I blankly sifted through my backpack, found my math folder, and handed him my homework.
"That's more like it," He gave a forced cheer in his voice, and went to the girl in front of me.
The letter was still in my hands and I looked at it again with a whole load of emotions that I can't begin to tell you about. The entire lesson was a blur, for I was not paying attention to it. For the rest of the hour, I simply stared at the letter, not noticing anything else.
By the time the bell rang, and people were flying out of the room as if it was filled with a slew of killer snakes, I looked back at the window sill to see if the owl was still there.
It wasn't.
"So much for asking if the owl was real," I muttered.
"Hey, Kim!"
My head snapped to the door, where my best friends Emily and Mary were waiting.
"C'mon, we're gonna be late!"
Reality hitting me like a brick, I threw my math folder and stuff in my backpack, slugging it over my back. The letter was held tightly in my hand, and I bounded out to the door.
It was then that I realized it. It was a trick! The letter was from either Emily or Mary! For, they had never come upstairs to get me if I was late before. Yet, how did they know that I had written a letter?
"Geez, what were you doing? Planning to live in math for now on?" Emily asked, laughing as we went down the stairs.
"Well, I was really shocked over the prank you guys played on me." I said sharply.
Emily and Mary were silent, looking at each other with confused looks.
"Prank? What prank?" Mary asked.
"Oh, c'mon! Please, I know it was you two... really good one too if you ask me." I crowed.
They're faces went blank with confusion.
"Kimberly, we have never played a prank on you. What makes you think we did?" Emily said, her voice stern.
I stared at them.
"Well then, explain this."
Holding out the letter, Emily took it and Mary looked over her shoulder. It was hard to tell their expressions, but when they were through they broke out into giggles.
"Who did this?" They asked, handing it back.
"You tell me!" I stuffed it inside my math textbook.
"Well we sure didn't!" Mary barked.
"Besides, I can't write like that!" Emily added.
I moaned, walking up to the sidewalk where Emily and I left Mary.
"Then who did?"
Mary shrugged, running up to her friend Shawn. Emily walked by my side as I whimpered with despair.
"Why are you freak'n out, Kim?" She asked, concerned.
I sagged my shoulders, staring at my math textbook where the letter was.
"'Cause it's freaky, Emily! I did not tell you what I did over the weekend. I went to my aunt and uncle's condo down south and found this really neat golden quill with some parchment. When I got home, I wrote a letter with it all... a letter to... to Harry!"
She began to laugh, but stopped after I gave her a murderous look.
"Well, I wrote it outside and then it blew away with the wind. I never found it! No one knew I had written it! So, how on earth did anyone find out?! 'Cause this is impossible! Harry Potter is NOT real!"
Several students stopped to stare at me, with inquisitive looks. I blushed and Emily pulled me over to an empty corner.
"I don't know what to tell you, Kim," She said, sighing. "It certainly wasn't me or Mary, and we all know Tina would never do it... she's not that type. Is there anyone else who has read the books who would do this to you? Being able to read the letter?"
The whistle signaling the upcoming tardy bell blew and we both began to walk to class again. I shook my head.
"The only other person who could have possibly written it would be my mom..."
"There ya go!" Emily said, giving me a hug. "She probibly did it, most likely. Ooh, I got to go, the bell's about to ring."
"Thanks, Emily." I waved goodbye and headed for my humanities class, my mind convinced that it was my mom. Besides, it made more sense.
How very wrong I was.
The rest of the day was a blur to me. I'm not sure exactly how much work I got done, or how well I did on my Psychology test. My mind was completely involved in the letter, and who it was from. Running over it many, many times, I was not too sure that my mom had done it. Even though she could of been the only other person able to do it, knowing her my entire life, she's never done anything like this before. Maybe she felt bad for dragging me down to my Uncle and Aunt's the past weekend, and wanted to give me a laugh. Well, I was laughing, but uncertainly.
When I got home from school, I simply stared at the letter on my desk. The golden quill and pile of leftover parchment sat untouched in one corner. My Harry Potter books were lovingly placed in their usual spot on top of my dresser. For once, no music was played, no internet visited. I simply stared stupidly at the letter, waiting to confront my mom when she got home.
My dad does not know much more about Harry than what I have explained excitedly at the dinner table. I'm not sure how much he knows or understands, but never would he have been able to write the letter. Besides, his handwriting is more than recognizable. I asked him if he knew anything about mom writing me a letter on parchment, but he was clueless. Either he was in on the prank, or just simply had no idea.
Finally, mom's car pulled up into the driveway. I picked up the letter and strode to the front door, waiting there to meet her face to face. When she opened the door, tired yet bearing a smile, I began to laugh.
"Mom, you've sure outdone yourself this time!"
She looked at me blankly.
"What?"
"Oh, c'mon! I know it was you, really... really great trick! How on earth did you manage to do it?" I cocked my head with a large grin.
My mom bustled past me, rolling her giantic briefcase into the dining room.
"Honey, what are you talking about?" She asked, exhailing deeply.
"You know! The letter? The letter from 'Harry Potter'... written on my parchment with a quill, sent to me at school via an owl. How did you get your hands on an owl? How much did this all cost you?" I said, following her into the master bedroom.
"What letter? What owl?" She asked, getting into her house clothes. "What are you talking about?"
"Please, mom, you can cut off the act now. I figured it all out! Really awesome trick, it was." I sat down on her bed.
She stared at me long and hard, then put on the look I have come to recognize means "have you gone insane?!".
"Honey, we really need to talk about this Harry Potter thing. I know how much you love the books, but really now... you're obsessed! Letters from 'Harry'?" She sighed. "I think we need to look into some community service or something to get your mind off the books a while, besides, you need it for a scholarship!"
My body had gone stiff. I knew my mom too well to realize that she was telling the truth. Usually, when she does something behind my back to surprise me, she'll put on a sheepish look and giggle like a school girl. I'm not sure if I was pale, but my mom came over, concerned, and felt my head.
"Now, enough Harry Potter for a little while. Alright? You look a bit clammy, do you feel ok?"
Staring off into nothing, I stood up.
"Umm, yeah. Yeah, I'm ok. I think... I think I'm going to go to my room now."
She studied me, then nodded, looking real tired.
"Just be sure to empty the dishwasher and set the table soon,"
I walked out of the room, my breathing quick and shallow. Returning to my bedroom, the letter sat face up to me on my desk.
"Oh... boy."
For three days, the letter sat untouched on my desk. For three days, I came home from school just to stare at it. For three days my thoughts were on nothing else, but the letter.
It was completely impossible. Absolutely. It was not real. Harry Potter is not real. Magic is not real. Fantasy was fantasy, no way could it be real. But in the back of my mind, the creative part of me was saying... but it can. The way J.K. Rowling wrote the books made it seem as if the magical world was parallel to the real world. With her descriptions, it was remotely possible that it could all be, in fact, very real. Yet the rational me kept saying no, that it was all just a big dream. My deep wish for Harry and everything in the books to be fact was making me think that way. The thoughts tortured me and there was only one way to find out if it was true.
Write back.
I decided to write another letter the same way I had written the first one. Despite my urge to stay indoors with the newly fixed AC, I dragged all my writing supplies to the make-shift desk on the driveway. When all was ready, I pulled a piece of parchment in front of me and removed the golden quill from it's case. After dipping it in the ink, I began to write.
Dear Harry Potter and friends,
Believe me, I am just as confused as you are about this situation. I have no idea how to explain to you about the fact that you, along with everything else magical, is not real. That you are a fictional character, the main star of a series of novels written by a British woman named J.K. Rowling. The time span of these books, titled "Harry Potter", starts in 1991 and will end in 1998. The current year is 2000, so at this time you (or more appropriately, your character) would be 20 years old. The books are currently up to book 4, your fourth year at Hogwarts. It explains your entire trial at the Triwizard Tournament, Rita Skeeter's reports, Sirius Black's suspicions, and the rise of Voldemort. If you need convincing that I know all about you, since you are a character in a book, perhaps the fact that I know that Sirius Black is innocent and that Peter Pettigrew (Wormtail) is alive will convince you.
Now, I'm not sure if I've convinced you, but if you can imagine my position... getting a letter from a person who is not real, I believe it is your turn to explain. Like I said before, I'm just an average teenager from Florida who's a bookworm, nobody from the Dark Arts... not that it exists.
I'm not so sure how this is getting to you, for I do not have an owl, nor do owls deliver mail at all. All I know is, is that I got your letter via who appeared to be your owl, Hedwig, durring my math class at school.
This is all very wierd... very, very wierd. I hope to get a response from you, however, I really doubt that I'm sane anymore!
Sincerely,
Kimberly
I put the letter in an envelope and addressed it the same as I did the first one. Then, I waited. The envelope sat on the "desk", my writing supplies all secured if another wind should pick up. I crossed my arms and stared around, nervously.
For a long, long time, nothing happened.
"Man, what am I thinking! This is so, totally nuts!" I slapped my forehead. "Mom's right, I am obsessed. Like an owl really is going to come pick my letter up, take it clear across the ocean, and deliver it to a guy who's not real."
I picked up the golden quill and stared at it, hard. The inscription gleamed in the sunlight, and I tried to read and make sense of it.
"Rof Ouyr Eepdts Erised." Cocking my head, I squinted. "What language is that? However, Erised is backwards for 'desire'..."
Suddenly, a large shadow flew over my head. Snapping back to look at the letter, it was gone. I looked up to see a large bird, carrying it off into the distance. An owl.
My jaw hung open and all I could do was stare, even when the bird was no longer in sight. It must have been a long time, for my mom pulled up in the driveway.
"Hey, honey! How was your... hey, what'cha doing?" She got out and kissed me, but I did not acknowledge. "Are you alright? You are looking pale again..."
I snapped out of my trance.
"Uhh, yeah.. yeah I'm ok. Just, the heat I think."
She frowned and began to walk off.
"Well, clean up and come inside then."
Numbly, I gathered my things, clutching the golden quill tightly, and went inside after her.
It was nearly another three days after I sent the second letter. I had tried to keep my mind off it, but something like this was hard to forget. So before I tried to tackle my slope-intercept homework after school the third day, I got on my bike and decided to do a few laps up and down my street.
Hardly anyone in my aging neighborhood is outside at 5 PM on a Monday. Logenberry Trail was quiet and peaceful, with only the whoosh and honks of the traffic on Red Bug Road at the end to fill the air. My favorite habit is to go down my long, hilled driveway, onto the street, pedal down towards Red Bug, then turn back to repeat the process. I stop at the retention pond alongside Red Bug, make a big loop, then push myself to go top speed back to my driveway. That day was no exception.
As I pedaled down to the retention pond for the last trip, panting quietly, I momentarily closed my eyes against the blinding setting sun from the east of me. Almost immediately, something big landed on my handlebars. My eyes snapped open and I was facing a terrified owl, wings flapping madly to keep balance.
To put it simply, I screamed.
"AHHHHHHHHACCKKK!"
My handlebars wiggled and the owl began to shriek. I lost balance and rode clear into the curb, falling into the heavily treated grass of the rentention pond. The owl flew up, disgruntled and disheveled, onto a low hanging branch of the tree next to me. Confused and terrified, I jumped to my feet, pointing at the bird.
"You can't be real! It can't be real! I've lost it! My mind has gone completely nutty!"
The owl hooted angrily, dropping an envelope to the grass below. My momentary outrage seeped away quickly as my eyes became glued to the fallen envelope.
"Noo..." I moaned, an invisible pull making me walk over and pick it up. "It can't be true... it just can't!"
Dispite everything, I opened the envelope.
Dear Kimberly,
You've certainly gotten the attention of me, my friends, and my headmaster. What you wrote in your past letter was impossible, yet, it made sense if you knew about Sirius and Pettigrew. I have no clue as to what to say. It's obvious that we won't get solid answers to any of our questions just by writing. There has to be a way for us to meet. My headmaster, Professor Dumbledore, can work out a portkey for you. Just send word with Hedwig and it shall be sent to you.
Please be sure to bring those books you mentioned, perhaps they can give us an answer, as well as anything else you may deem helpful.
Sincerely,
Harry
This was it. I had had enough. Whoever it was that was doing this would have to prove themselves in person. With a smirk on my face and a flurry of metal as I returned my bike to the road, I yelled out to the snowy owl.
"Well, c'mon then! I have to send back a response!"
The owl hooted in agreement, then took flight to fly by my side as I bolted for my house. Nearly hitting the mailbox, pelting up the driveway, I threw my bike aside and put out my arm for the owl to sit on. It gently landed on my forearm and I walked inside the house to my room, letting the owl perch on the headboard of my bed. Throwing a piece of parchment on my desk, pulling out the golden quill and dipping it into the ink, I wrote a quick note.
Looking forward to seeing you and the others, Harry. Please send the portkey, I'll be waiting with the books.
Kimberly
"There," I said to the white owl, folding the parchment and addressing an envelope. "Take this to Harry, please." I laughed at the last statement. Tying the envelope to the owl's let, and took it outside to let it go.
"Sorry I can't give you anything for the trip, but I'll be sure to have something for you when you return."
The owl hooted gruffly and took off, and I watched it go with a smirk on my face.
"Now we'll see..."
People pretty much stayed out of my way the next day at school. I must of had a wierd expression on my face, and I jumped at small noises. My mind was swimming with what was happening to me. Exchanging letters with a fictional character certainly had taken it's toll on my sanity. Emily and Mary did not speak at all to me, they must of thought that I did loose it. I had refrained from telling them anything that happened after the first letter. My teachers thought I was sick or something, twice was I asked if I needed to go home. But I paid no mind to anything, for my body was at school... but my mind was not.
It was a good thing that the next day was a teacher work day, extending the weekend. All I wanted to do when I got home that day was to sit outside and wait. Wait to see if I really had gone mad, if I hadn't already.
Confusing my dad, as soon as I got out of the car, I ran down the driveway and sat on the grass. He didn't bother to ask, and went inside. I crossed my arms, and for five hours, I sat in the Florida sun... waiting.
By the time the sun had almost set, I nearly had tears in my eyes.
"I have... I have lost it! I'm nuts! I need to call Charter! Algebra has finally made me psycho!" I wailed, putting my face in my hands.
Suddenly, something sharp landed on my shoulder, making me leap.
"Holy fruits!!"
The same white owl was perched on my shoulder, a package at my feet that it had dropped.
I calmed down quietly, the owl looking into my eyes curiously.
"So... it is real? It really is?" I whispered.
"Hoot." It responded, making me laugh. I picked up the package and began to open it.
"Well, there's only one true way to find out if I am insane." The package opened and inside was a coin of some sort. It was small, gold in color, with strange writing on it.
"This must be... a portkey?" I whispered. The owl ruffled it's wings and I exhailed deeply. Remembering that I needed my Harry Potter books, and then I wanted to bring the golden quill, I took the package and the owl inside to grab my things.
With everything situated, the books and the quill tucked under my arm, I looked at the owl.
"Well, here goes nothin'!"
Just as I touched the coin, my stomach seemed to lurch out in front of me. The owl flew off my shoulder and out of my room. I was being pulled into the coin!
"AHHH!" I yelped.
Everything began to swirl around me. Clutching the books and the quill close to my body, my room disappeared. For what seemed like forever, I was lost in a confused void, being pulled to some unknown destination. My eyes were shut tight and I was screaming so loud that it was beyond hearing.
Then, suddenly, my feet hit solid ground and I fell flat on my face.
"Ooof! Ahhck!"
The books under my arm were no longer there, the quill lodged between my fingers. My long brown hair tangled around my face as I scrambled to get onto my knees. I was in such a confused mess that it was several moments before I noticed anything around me.
I was on a wooden floor, nicely polished. As my breath quieted, I could hear the cackle of a fire behind me. It's light was warm and as I looked up, it filled a large circular room, an office of some sort.
"Are you alright?" Said a voice with an English accent.
Slowly, my breath stopping, I turned my head to see who spoke. Standing in front of a large fireplace were four people. Three of them were my size in height, and the fourth was tall, most likely an adult. I could not really see their faces clearly, but there was no doubt who they could be.
"Oh. My. God." I squeaked.
One of them stepped forward, a boy with jet black, messy hair, and black glasses. He looked at me with a mix of confusion and wonder, and I saw that he held book one in his hands.
"It can't be... you can't be... no," I whispered, taking a step back from him.
"I... I'm not sure I'm getting any of this either," The boy said.
Hesitating, I crept closer to him. There was only one way to be absolutely sure.
He looked at me carefully as I reached out a hand towards his face. I gave him a look , as if asking him permission, and my hand came up to his forehead. He made no move to argue, and I parted his bangs to reveal what was unmistakably...
A scar in the shape of a lightning bolt.
I had never fainted before... so I'm not quite sure what fainting was like. All I know is, is that once my eyes locked on that famous mark, the world went completely black.
"It's alright now, wake up. Wake up, now..."
There was a gentle voice in my ears, making me feel safe and secure. My eyes remained closed, and I remember thinking how wierd a dream I had.
"Is she alright, Professor?"
"I believe so,"
Professor?
My eyes shot open, and standing above me was an old man, with half-moon spectacles and kind looking eyes. He had a long, bent nose and a wild white beard that hung down his front.
That was no dream. It really... really... really... was real!!
"How do you feel, young lady?" He asked quietly. A tall boy with flaming red hair and freckles flanked him, along with a girl who looked much like me with long brown hair.
"...Ron? Hermione? Professor Dumbledore?" I whispered in disbelief.
The two kids behind the old man looked at me with shock, yet he smiled sweetly, pulling me up gently.
"You must be Kimberly," He said.
The boy that had caused me to faint... the boy with the black hair and glasses... the boy with the lightning bolt scar, came to face me.
"Harry? Harry Potter?" I choked.
"It's nice to finally meet you," He said, uncertainly, handing me back book 1. We both blushed as I took it from him.
"I... I can't believe... I can't believe I'm meeting you. And Ron, Hermione... and you, Professor Dumbledore sir."
Everyone exchanged glances. Hermione was holding book two, Ron was holding book three, and the Professor had picked up book four.
"Er... while you were out, we sort of looked through these books," Hermione said, carefully.
Ron nodded slowly.
"So it is true," Harry and I said in union, exchanging glances and blushing again.
"But how can this be?" Everyone but Professor Dumbledore asked, turning to him on instinct. He looked curiously at my hand, in which I was holding the golden quill.
"Is that what you've been using to write the letters?" He asked, peering at it. I handed it to him, nodding.
"I found it at my uncle and aunt's house two weekends ago, along with the parchment. My uncle did not recognize it, not knowing he had it. So he gave it to me."
Dumbledore looked over the inscription, reading it out loud.
"Rof Ouyr Eepdts Erised."
Everyone stared, including me.
"Do you know what it means?" I asked.
He gave me an inquisitive look.
"How much do you know about your ancestors?"
I thought for a moment, clueless.
"The most I know is that my maternal great grandmother was Irish, my paternal grandmother being German, my paternal grandfather being from the Philippines... all stewed together with more German, some Check, and maybe English or something to come up with my parents being New Yorkers, then me being from Florida. Why?"
Dumbledore looked at the quill closely, Harry and the others edging closer to me and to look at it themselves.
"Rof Ouyr Eepdts Erised. For Your Deepest Desire." He said, clearly. "This is no ordinary quill, but a quill that once belonged to a wizard."
I looked at him blankly.
"A wizard? You mean this quill is... magical?"
He nodded.
"You say your uncle did not know where he got it from?"
"Yes... so, what would my ancestors have anything to do with it?" I asked.
Dumbledore walked over to his desk and sat down. Ron and Hermione looked at me like someone who was dangerous and went to stand closer to him. Harry was the only one who stood by my side.
"Something like this has not been made for a long, long time. Very, very rare these were, even in their day. This quill makes your deepest desire come true, once you write it on parchment."
Everyone turned to look at me, and I blused a deep crimson.
I cleared my throat. "Ehmm... really?"
Dumbledore gave me a long stare.
"So, the quill made your desire come true."
"But how can it all be real?" I squeaked, panicking again. "All of you are charcters in books! How can I have an ancestor who was a wizard, when magic and wizards don't exist? You've all seen the books! It's. Not. Possible."
No one spoke. Ron and Hermione stared at the books as if they were some unknown power. Harry simply looked from me to Dumbledore, and Dumbledore just looked at me patiently.
"A long, long time ago... magic was practiced, in your reality. It was then that a practicing wizard created this golden quill, and it somehow survived the ages and stayed among your family members. Over time, it's meaning was forgotten, and it's magic remained dormant. People lost magic, and so it no longer exists in your world. However, because of your ancestor, magic is in you, and this allowed you to unleash the power of the quill once more. It has done what it was made to do, make your deepest desire come true." He smiled broadly, glancing at everyone.
"You must have been really anxious to meet us, Kimberly."
I smiled weakly, and Harry shuffled his feet.
"But umm..." I muttered. "That still does not explain how it made me able to contact fictional characters, no disrespect or anything."
"In your world, we are fictional. You only know us through those books. But we do exist, in a parallel world, created by those in the original world. The magic of the golden quill has opened a gateway between them, making the impossible in your world, possible."
No one said anything for a few minutes, but then Harry broke the silence.
"So..."
I stared at him, still disbelieving.
"So,"
"Umm, would you like me to show you around Hogwarts?"
He held out his hand, and I took it, my shock subsiding and an excited grin on my face.
"Let's go!"
How can I begin to tell you how wonderful it was to actually see everything that I had only seen in my dreams in person? Having all these things that were supposed to be fantasy, actually be real and true? To walk beside Harry, Ron, and Hermione... meeting all the other Hogwarts students, see the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall, meet Hagrid, watch Harry fly on a broomstick, and witness magic.
But like everything that you never want to end, it came time that I should of been going home, and the four of us trudged up to Professor Dumbledore's office for my ticket back to Florida.
Before we entered the magical staircase, I turned to Harry and them.
"I don't want to go back,"
They nodded sadly.
"We wish you could stay, really..." Hermione sniffed.
I hesitated, twiddling my thumbs.
"Do you think... do you think we could keep writing to one another?"
They all looked at me as if I were stupid.
"Well of course! Do you think we'd just wave good bye and that's that? How many people do you meet that come from a different reality where you yourself does not exist?" Ron gasped.
I laughed and Harry leaned closer to me.
"Maybe we could visit each other again, too. I've always wanted to go to the beach."
"I thought you'd never ask! Looks like we've all got a date with the beach."
Dumbledore called us in, and once inside we all said our goodbyes. We promised to continuing writing and that soon we'd all get together again. I took the portkey in my hand, the quill and the books in the other, and I was pulled back to my bedroom.
For the longest time, I sat on my bed, thinking about all that happened. I had an ancestor who was a wizard, Harry and Hogwarts was real, and I owned a magical object that grants my deepest desire to come true.
Ohh, how so totally cool!
Harry and I, along with Ron and Hermione, meet all the time now on days off. I took them all to the beach, and boy did they get a nasty sunburn. Durring the winter break, they've promised to let me come to Hogwarts and see snow. For I've never seen snow in person before.
We write to each other as much as possible, me using the magical golden quill. I don't talk about it all with my friends and with my parents, they'd never believe me. They haven't met Harry and them, so all they know is, is that I've been hanging with people.... people from, Britain.. which is not too unusual since Orlando is the destination station for people from around the globe.
So, now you and everyone else really has to stop and think. Is there really a thing as impossible? If you have the desire, the impossible can indeed come true.
For it has for me.
A/N: Well, what did you think? Yes, I know... not my best, I have done better. It really suffered with school, 9 Wks. exams coming up this week, lack of sleep due to homework, art projects, etc. etc. I promise, promise, promise that you will get what you know me well for in the 4th and last series in the "Renee Chronicles". I'm not sure what to do with it yet, but I will put that at the top of my fanfic priorities.
But, if you could be a nice person (and I stress on the nice part), leave a review. Yes, I know about my typo and spelling problem, but I don't feel like explaining to you why. ::waves goodbye:: Well, keep an eye out for the next Renee series!
~OrcaPotter
To be completely honest, as this story wore on... I got bord, longing to start the 4th and last part of my "Renee Chronicles". However, it is an interesting read... giving you a view into my real world, and a glimpse into how I would enter the fantasy world.
Now, this is the last time I'm using this word processor, Micro. Works. To help with the typos (and don't flame me if you see any in here 'cause I know about it, thank you!) I'm switching to Micro. Word, which I should have been using all along. I won't bore you as to the reasons why.
And to my friends, and you all know who you are wonderful peoples, that have been following my works, I did promise you something different before you read more about our favorite girl, Renee. I promise to get crack'n on the 4th series... but in the meantime, enjoy "A Golden Opportunity".
DISCLAIMER: Everything Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. Everything else is me... so I guess it all belongs to me, hahah!
"A Golden Opportunity"
Now, we all know that there really isn't such a thing as magic or wizards or dragons or owls that deliver the mail. As much as we dream and hope and wish, there is no world where you can buy a magic wand and take a class that covers the transformation of objects into completely different objects. All of us, no matter what country we live in or language we speak, are unhappily aware that the fantasy world is simply that, fantasy. Not real.
That's what I thought. At least, I thought I did.
Because, something happened to me that would make an ordinary person immediately call the local mental hospital and lock me away for the rest of my life, with an overwhelming supply of drugs. What happened to me still has me thinking that I'm dreaming it all, but, looking at the proof that I own and the people I see often, I'm either still dreaming... or it really is real.
Perhaps if I tell you what happened, what I saw, who I met, and the place that I've been to... you can help me figure out if I'm really lucky, or legally insane.
It all started not too long ago, in August. My Uncle and Aunt live in a small town downstate, here in Florida. It's chock-full of old people and adult communities, not exactly the most ideal place for a teenager to roam. However, even with this knowledge, my parents dragged me into the car one hot Saturday morning and we were on our way to several hours of coffee drinking and adult dialogue. It was such a sudden road trip that I was without my CD player, sketchbook, or even my Harry Potter books!
The horror.
Upon our arrival, passing the automated gate of my Uncle and Aunt's community, I was immediately smothered with... "Oh my gosh! Look how big you've gotten!" and "What grade are you in now, young lady?". It's always the same reaction and always the same lecture. We all have gone through it, am I right?
Hour after boring hour, the coffee was poured, the conversations exchanged, the men in front of the TV football game, the woman in the kitchen. What was a teenager to do?
Explore. I guess, 'cause that's what I did!
"Uncle Donald?" I asked my uncle, who was chatting with my dad over how horrible the New York Giants were last season.
"Yes, what is it?"
"Uhh, do you think I can poke around a bit? Explore some?" I put on my sweet, little girl voice. Works all the time.
"Oh sure, sure! In fact, I have a whole room filled with old boxes that I could care less about. Feel free to rummage through there." He pointed down the hall of his two bedroom condo. I flashed my innocent smile, muttered a "Thanks", and stuffed my hands in my pockets as I walked into the spare bedroom.
Sure enough, the room was completely engulfed in large cardboard boxes. Some of them were labeled, some were not. The door of the room swung behind me, leaving only a crack of the light from the hallway inside. I felt for the switch on the wall, found it, and turned the light on. When my eyes adjusted to the light, I could see dust filtering through the air.
"God bless, someone call in the Endust army, we've got a situation!" I coughed, waving my hand in front of my face as I walked among the boxes.
Craning my neck, I read boxes labeled "Hats" and "Old Shirts" and "Junk". I passed those by, who on earth wanted to look at old shirts? Eeew.
It was the non-labeled boxes that interested me, who knows what treasures waited inside?
"Wait a sec, I'm in the condo of two old people. Treasures of old people would consist of bronze baby shoes and their first pair of dentures." I said to myself, as I kneeled over a particularly beaten looking box. Wiping the dust away, I laughed. "Well, maybe not dentures. They're not that old!"
Going back to the days of my childhood, I opened the box feeling like pretending to be a pirate searching for gold on a savage island. My eyes widened and I flashed a greedy smile as the flaps revealed..... junk.
"I should have known," I moaned, picking up an old piggy bank absentmindedly. I sank to the floor and my foot hit the box, making it's contents rumble away from their original places.
"This is so boring, I want to chew my arm off!"
I kicked the box on purpose, and there was a loud CLANG.
Startled, I sat up straight to look at the door to see if anyone noticed. Certainly my Uncle, no matter how unimportant this stuff might have been, would not want me kicking it! When I was satisfied that no one was coming, I glanced back at the box.
Something gold was shining, slightly obstructed underneath the mass of nick-knacks. With a curious look on my face, I reached into the box and pushed the stuff aside. Whatever it was, the golden shine was coming from what looked like a feather, peeking out from inside a small, really old looking case. I picked it up and opened it.
"Woah, how spiffy!"
A long, golden quill was tucked inside the case. It really looked like an antique, but there was no sign of ware. Every inch of it was gold, the feathers, every part, down to the tip.
"Oooh, I wonder if he has parchment in here! That would be so cool! I could write the way they do in the Harry Potter books!"
Excitedly, I carefully closed the case and got on my knees to search the box. After much coughing and banging of unwanted objects, I found a small stack of yellowed parchment lying at the very bottom, covered in dust. I blew off the dust and winced as it all flew into the air.
"Now, just some ink..."
Much to my despair, and after nearly dumping all the contents of the box on the floor, I did not find a single bottle of ink.
"Oh, for the love of everything fruity! Just my luck! Arrggg!" I moaned, getting off the floor and stomping my feet.
I searched what I could for the remainder of the afternoon, until I was called out to go home. My shoulders sagging at not being able to use the quill, I walked to the door to leave, but stopped. With a sudden idea, I grabbed the quill and the parchment and ran out to see my uncle.
"Oh, wow! I didn't know I had something like this in there," My uncle said, looking at the golden quill that I handed to him.
"Umm... do you think-?"
"Don't know where it came from, don't remember it." He interrupted, I grew impatient.
"Well, uhh..."
"Hey, look! There's an inscription on it!" He pointed at the metal part of the quill, and I looked despite my growing exasperation. It read:
Rof Ouyr Eeepdts Erised
"What does it mean?" I asked.
My uncle shrugged, still peering at it intently.
"Not in English, that's for sure. It don't look like Latin, not Greek either." He sighed, handing the quill back to me. "Well, this is of no use to me. Who writes with a quill these days anyhow? You can keep it, if you want."
"Woah? Really?" I put on a surprised look. "Wow, thanks. You wouldn't happen to have any ink, would you?"
He looked at me with a silly expression.
"No, I wouldn't think so... especially since I don't keep quills lying around." Laughing, he pulled me into a suffocating hug.
"You be a good girl now. Not much longer 'till you graduate, right?"
I nodded, secretly rolling my eyes. Graduation meant college. College means SATs. SATs means... math.
Eeew.
My parents ushered me to the car, the mysterious golden quill and parchment in my hands. Waving goodbye, I looked down at my treasures.
"Well, I should have some ink at home left over from AP art." I muttered.
Little did I know that upon returning to Orlando, reality would be questioned.
Sundays are usually "lie around the house" days. That particular Sunday was no exception. I had managed to find some ink that I had used in a project for AP art. AP means Advanced Placement, by the way. So, with all the materials needed to pretend that I'm a student at Hogwarts in my hands, all one had to do was figure out... how to use them.
Now, in Florida, the summer time is the worst time of the year. Especially in Orlando because it is so inland that we get no sea breeze, just dead, hot air. The air conditioner is a Floridian's best friend, but just like anything else, it can break down. That particular Sunday was particularly hot. Really hot. As in heat wave hot. And, the AC in my house decided to quit.
Oh, the horror.
Sweating like a pig, I decided to take my newfound treasures outside where it was actually cooler than it was inside. Leaving my parents to fiddle with the AC machine, I set up shop on the driveway, arranging my supplies. There was no breeze, but the shade of the tree along the pavement made a satisfactory air cooler.
Setting my elbows atop the make-shift desk I had made, I wondered what on earth to write with my new quill.
"Too bad I'm too old for that silly 'Write a Letter to Harry Potter' contest. With this stuff, I could be assured the top prize." I muttered, uncapping the ink bottle.
Several minutes passed with just my hand wiggling the quill to and throw, and my other hand running through my bangs.
"Well," I said finally, dipping the quill in the ink. "Who said that I couldn't write a letter to Harry anyway? Maybe I could post it on fanfiction.net!"
With my mind set, I put the quill to the parchment, looking curiously at the way the quill wrote.
Dear Harry Potter and friends,
Hi! My name is Kimberly, and I'm a huge fan of the stories about your adventures at Hogwarts. I live in Orlando, Florida and really wish that I could be with you in Britain instead of here where it's really hot and sticky.
I wish that I could study magic with you, and be a witch as well. Hermione would be happy to know that I read a lot, and the library is my favorite part of school too. Chess is certainly not my game, so Ron would have yet another person to beat. It would be really neat to play Quidditch with you as well!
Yet, I'm sorry to say, that all that is impossible because it's all not real. You are not real, Hogwarts is not real, and magic is not real. As much as I'd like to meet you all in person, and know that all of you and everything really does exist, it can only happen in my dreams.
No matter how old I get and where I go, I will always be a big fan of you, Harry Potter. I look forward to reading your next adventure!
Sincerely,
Kimberly
Holding up the parchment and reading it over, I gave a sad grin.
"Man, it would be so cool to know Harry Potter for real."
Continuing with my pretend letter to Harry, I got out an envelope and folded the letter to put inside. Using the golden quill, I addressed it to:
Harry Potter and Friends
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Britain
I stared hard at the sealed letter. How do you send mail overseas? I've never done that before... oh well, like I was really going to send it somewhere.
Suddenly, out of no where, a breeze picked up. At first, I was happy with the coolness running over my sweaty neck. Yet, when it got stronger and began to blow my writing things all over the place, I squealed. The ink bottle was knocked over. Panicking, I got on my hands and knees and began to scoop up as much of the spilled ink as I could.
"Oh fruit! Another black blob to add to the driveway's collection of oil drippings."
As suddenly as it came, the wind stopped, and I scrambled back to sit on the chair I had in front of the "desk". Setting the bottle down, my eyes widened with fear.
"Uh oh, where is it? Where's the letter?!"
The pile of unused parchment was in a neat pile like before, the golden quill tossed in it's case. Yet, the sealed letter was not there.
"Oh, come on!" I tore the desk apart, but the letter was no where to be seen. The driveway showed no sign of a letter.
Sulking sadly, I just stood in my spot a moment to reflect what happened. Then after a while, I shrugged and gathered my stuff, thinking that it was no big deal and that I had plenty more parchment to write another letter with.
As I turned and headed back inside, I never noticed the dark shadow of a bird flying off into the far distance, carrying a letter. Who knew?
Being in high school is not all that it's cracked up to be. First off, you have to get up at 6 AM and be at school by 7. If math is not your subject, having to do it at 7 AM does not make it any easier. Well it just so happens that math is not my subject, and I do have it first hour at 7:20 AM.
It was two days after I had written the letter to "Harry". I had pretty much forgotten about it, not to mention I had forgotten nearly everything other than the ability to walk at that hour of the day. My classroom is on the second floor, all the way at the back of the campus. So by the time I got up there that Tuesday morning, I got into my desk and did what I always did.
Went to sleep.
Well, maybe not. But I did hit my head on my desk and slumped into the black void of sleep depravation and the knowledge that in ten minutes you had to crack out your formulas and learn the point-slope technique. Why couldn't Florida schools start in September like everywhere else? I could have been in bed at that time!
No one else was in the room, which was odd because there were usually two other people in there with me before the bell. Not even my teacher, Mr. Arterburn, was there. I was completely alone.
"Good," I whispered to my desk. "I can snore now, not that I do..."
Apparently, the heat wave had taken effect on my school too, and the AC was broken there as well. My seat is the closest to the windows, and each one was open wide.
All of a sudden, something hit my head.
"Ahck, hey! What gives?"
I lifted my head as I ran my hands over my hair. What had hit me tumbled off from my head and landed on my desk with a small slap. At first, with my hands still poised over my hair, I just noticed that it was a piece of paper. Then, the world stopped. The air was gone. My eyes became the size of paper plates and my lungs collapsed.
Written on the paper, which was an envelope, was an address.
To: Kimberly
Orlando, Florida. USA.
The envelope was made of parchment.
I simply stared at it for the longest time, then I slowly looked around the room with my eyes. No one was in there with me, as it had been, but when I looked at the window to my left, I jumped completely out of my chair.
"Holy fruit!"
Sitting on the sill, looking very dignified yet exhausted, was a white owl.
"No..." I whispered, shaking my head slowly. "No, it can't... it can't, it's impossible... no."
The owl hooted sharply, making me jump again like a frightened cat. It began to pace the sill impatiently.
Without a word, I sat down slowly back in my chair, looking down at the envelope with a disbelieving expression. My hands were shaking as I carefully picked it up, still reading the address over and over.
Perhaps it was just a note from a friend, or a letter to me from the school. But why was there an address? Why would they send it on parchment?
Completely baffled and still taking in quick breaths, I opened the envelope nervously. Inside was a letter written on parchment. There was a sudden sharp squeak. It came from me.
Dear Kimberly,
I really don't know what to write, because you have me really confused. There are so many questions I need to ask you. First off, how do you know so much about my friends and I? Second, you wrote that magic is not real. Third, and this is what confuses me the most, is that you wrote that we are not real. What do you mean?
Obviously you know who I am, I would assume that those in America know about me. However, with your statements, it's possible that you are a muggle. If so, how do you know about magic and Hogwarts? And me and my friends?
I'm curious to know who you really are and how you contacted me.
Sincerely,
Harry Potter
I'm not sure how long I stared at those written words. I'm not sure what happened around me. All I know was that there was an owl on the window sill next to me and that I was holding a letter that apparently was written by Harry Potter!
But, that's not possible. Harry Potter is not real. He's a fictional character in a book! None of it is real! None!
Yet, who knew I had written a letter to him? No one did, not even my parents! It blew away with the wind, and no one in my neighborhood knows me or even cares. Who wrote this? Who was it really from? It can't have possibly been written by a fictional character, sent overseas by an owl, and delivered to me at school! That's crazy!
"Homework? Kim?"
I jumped again. Mr. Arterburn was in my face, clipboard in hand. The classroom was now filled with students, talking amongst themselves loudly.
"Hello? Do you not have it?" He pressed, giving me a studious stare.
"Uhh,"
I blankly sifted through my backpack, found my math folder, and handed him my homework.
"That's more like it," He gave a forced cheer in his voice, and went to the girl in front of me.
The letter was still in my hands and I looked at it again with a whole load of emotions that I can't begin to tell you about. The entire lesson was a blur, for I was not paying attention to it. For the rest of the hour, I simply stared at the letter, not noticing anything else.
By the time the bell rang, and people were flying out of the room as if it was filled with a slew of killer snakes, I looked back at the window sill to see if the owl was still there.
It wasn't.
"So much for asking if the owl was real," I muttered.
"Hey, Kim!"
My head snapped to the door, where my best friends Emily and Mary were waiting.
"C'mon, we're gonna be late!"
Reality hitting me like a brick, I threw my math folder and stuff in my backpack, slugging it over my back. The letter was held tightly in my hand, and I bounded out to the door.
It was then that I realized it. It was a trick! The letter was from either Emily or Mary! For, they had never come upstairs to get me if I was late before. Yet, how did they know that I had written a letter?
"Geez, what were you doing? Planning to live in math for now on?" Emily asked, laughing as we went down the stairs.
"Well, I was really shocked over the prank you guys played on me." I said sharply.
Emily and Mary were silent, looking at each other with confused looks.
"Prank? What prank?" Mary asked.
"Oh, c'mon! Please, I know it was you two... really good one too if you ask me." I crowed.
They're faces went blank with confusion.
"Kimberly, we have never played a prank on you. What makes you think we did?" Emily said, her voice stern.
I stared at them.
"Well then, explain this."
Holding out the letter, Emily took it and Mary looked over her shoulder. It was hard to tell their expressions, but when they were through they broke out into giggles.
"Who did this?" They asked, handing it back.
"You tell me!" I stuffed it inside my math textbook.
"Well we sure didn't!" Mary barked.
"Besides, I can't write like that!" Emily added.
I moaned, walking up to the sidewalk where Emily and I left Mary.
"Then who did?"
Mary shrugged, running up to her friend Shawn. Emily walked by my side as I whimpered with despair.
"Why are you freak'n out, Kim?" She asked, concerned.
I sagged my shoulders, staring at my math textbook where the letter was.
"'Cause it's freaky, Emily! I did not tell you what I did over the weekend. I went to my aunt and uncle's condo down south and found this really neat golden quill with some parchment. When I got home, I wrote a letter with it all... a letter to... to Harry!"
She began to laugh, but stopped after I gave her a murderous look.
"Well, I wrote it outside and then it blew away with the wind. I never found it! No one knew I had written it! So, how on earth did anyone find out?! 'Cause this is impossible! Harry Potter is NOT real!"
Several students stopped to stare at me, with inquisitive looks. I blushed and Emily pulled me over to an empty corner.
"I don't know what to tell you, Kim," She said, sighing. "It certainly wasn't me or Mary, and we all know Tina would never do it... she's not that type. Is there anyone else who has read the books who would do this to you? Being able to read the letter?"
The whistle signaling the upcoming tardy bell blew and we both began to walk to class again. I shook my head.
"The only other person who could have possibly written it would be my mom..."
"There ya go!" Emily said, giving me a hug. "She probibly did it, most likely. Ooh, I got to go, the bell's about to ring."
"Thanks, Emily." I waved goodbye and headed for my humanities class, my mind convinced that it was my mom. Besides, it made more sense.
How very wrong I was.
The rest of the day was a blur to me. I'm not sure exactly how much work I got done, or how well I did on my Psychology test. My mind was completely involved in the letter, and who it was from. Running over it many, many times, I was not too sure that my mom had done it. Even though she could of been the only other person able to do it, knowing her my entire life, she's never done anything like this before. Maybe she felt bad for dragging me down to my Uncle and Aunt's the past weekend, and wanted to give me a laugh. Well, I was laughing, but uncertainly.
When I got home from school, I simply stared at the letter on my desk. The golden quill and pile of leftover parchment sat untouched in one corner. My Harry Potter books were lovingly placed in their usual spot on top of my dresser. For once, no music was played, no internet visited. I simply stared stupidly at the letter, waiting to confront my mom when she got home.
My dad does not know much more about Harry than what I have explained excitedly at the dinner table. I'm not sure how much he knows or understands, but never would he have been able to write the letter. Besides, his handwriting is more than recognizable. I asked him if he knew anything about mom writing me a letter on parchment, but he was clueless. Either he was in on the prank, or just simply had no idea.
Finally, mom's car pulled up into the driveway. I picked up the letter and strode to the front door, waiting there to meet her face to face. When she opened the door, tired yet bearing a smile, I began to laugh.
"Mom, you've sure outdone yourself this time!"
She looked at me blankly.
"What?"
"Oh, c'mon! I know it was you, really... really great trick! How on earth did you manage to do it?" I cocked my head with a large grin.
My mom bustled past me, rolling her giantic briefcase into the dining room.
"Honey, what are you talking about?" She asked, exhailing deeply.
"You know! The letter? The letter from 'Harry Potter'... written on my parchment with a quill, sent to me at school via an owl. How did you get your hands on an owl? How much did this all cost you?" I said, following her into the master bedroom.
"What letter? What owl?" She asked, getting into her house clothes. "What are you talking about?"
"Please, mom, you can cut off the act now. I figured it all out! Really awesome trick, it was." I sat down on her bed.
She stared at me long and hard, then put on the look I have come to recognize means "have you gone insane?!".
"Honey, we really need to talk about this Harry Potter thing. I know how much you love the books, but really now... you're obsessed! Letters from 'Harry'?" She sighed. "I think we need to look into some community service or something to get your mind off the books a while, besides, you need it for a scholarship!"
My body had gone stiff. I knew my mom too well to realize that she was telling the truth. Usually, when she does something behind my back to surprise me, she'll put on a sheepish look and giggle like a school girl. I'm not sure if I was pale, but my mom came over, concerned, and felt my head.
"Now, enough Harry Potter for a little while. Alright? You look a bit clammy, do you feel ok?"
Staring off into nothing, I stood up.
"Umm, yeah. Yeah, I'm ok. I think... I think I'm going to go to my room now."
She studied me, then nodded, looking real tired.
"Just be sure to empty the dishwasher and set the table soon,"
I walked out of the room, my breathing quick and shallow. Returning to my bedroom, the letter sat face up to me on my desk.
"Oh... boy."
For three days, the letter sat untouched on my desk. For three days, I came home from school just to stare at it. For three days my thoughts were on nothing else, but the letter.
It was completely impossible. Absolutely. It was not real. Harry Potter is not real. Magic is not real. Fantasy was fantasy, no way could it be real. But in the back of my mind, the creative part of me was saying... but it can. The way J.K. Rowling wrote the books made it seem as if the magical world was parallel to the real world. With her descriptions, it was remotely possible that it could all be, in fact, very real. Yet the rational me kept saying no, that it was all just a big dream. My deep wish for Harry and everything in the books to be fact was making me think that way. The thoughts tortured me and there was only one way to find out if it was true.
Write back.
I decided to write another letter the same way I had written the first one. Despite my urge to stay indoors with the newly fixed AC, I dragged all my writing supplies to the make-shift desk on the driveway. When all was ready, I pulled a piece of parchment in front of me and removed the golden quill from it's case. After dipping it in the ink, I began to write.
Dear Harry Potter and friends,
Believe me, I am just as confused as you are about this situation. I have no idea how to explain to you about the fact that you, along with everything else magical, is not real. That you are a fictional character, the main star of a series of novels written by a British woman named J.K. Rowling. The time span of these books, titled "Harry Potter", starts in 1991 and will end in 1998. The current year is 2000, so at this time you (or more appropriately, your character) would be 20 years old. The books are currently up to book 4, your fourth year at Hogwarts. It explains your entire trial at the Triwizard Tournament, Rita Skeeter's reports, Sirius Black's suspicions, and the rise of Voldemort. If you need convincing that I know all about you, since you are a character in a book, perhaps the fact that I know that Sirius Black is innocent and that Peter Pettigrew (Wormtail) is alive will convince you.
Now, I'm not sure if I've convinced you, but if you can imagine my position... getting a letter from a person who is not real, I believe it is your turn to explain. Like I said before, I'm just an average teenager from Florida who's a bookworm, nobody from the Dark Arts... not that it exists.
I'm not so sure how this is getting to you, for I do not have an owl, nor do owls deliver mail at all. All I know is, is that I got your letter via who appeared to be your owl, Hedwig, durring my math class at school.
This is all very wierd... very, very wierd. I hope to get a response from you, however, I really doubt that I'm sane anymore!
Sincerely,
Kimberly
I put the letter in an envelope and addressed it the same as I did the first one. Then, I waited. The envelope sat on the "desk", my writing supplies all secured if another wind should pick up. I crossed my arms and stared around, nervously.
For a long, long time, nothing happened.
"Man, what am I thinking! This is so, totally nuts!" I slapped my forehead. "Mom's right, I am obsessed. Like an owl really is going to come pick my letter up, take it clear across the ocean, and deliver it to a guy who's not real."
I picked up the golden quill and stared at it, hard. The inscription gleamed in the sunlight, and I tried to read and make sense of it.
"Rof Ouyr Eepdts Erised." Cocking my head, I squinted. "What language is that? However, Erised is backwards for 'desire'..."
Suddenly, a large shadow flew over my head. Snapping back to look at the letter, it was gone. I looked up to see a large bird, carrying it off into the distance. An owl.
My jaw hung open and all I could do was stare, even when the bird was no longer in sight. It must have been a long time, for my mom pulled up in the driveway.
"Hey, honey! How was your... hey, what'cha doing?" She got out and kissed me, but I did not acknowledge. "Are you alright? You are looking pale again..."
I snapped out of my trance.
"Uhh, yeah.. yeah I'm ok. Just, the heat I think."
She frowned and began to walk off.
"Well, clean up and come inside then."
Numbly, I gathered my things, clutching the golden quill tightly, and went inside after her.
It was nearly another three days after I sent the second letter. I had tried to keep my mind off it, but something like this was hard to forget. So before I tried to tackle my slope-intercept homework after school the third day, I got on my bike and decided to do a few laps up and down my street.
Hardly anyone in my aging neighborhood is outside at 5 PM on a Monday. Logenberry Trail was quiet and peaceful, with only the whoosh and honks of the traffic on Red Bug Road at the end to fill the air. My favorite habit is to go down my long, hilled driveway, onto the street, pedal down towards Red Bug, then turn back to repeat the process. I stop at the retention pond alongside Red Bug, make a big loop, then push myself to go top speed back to my driveway. That day was no exception.
As I pedaled down to the retention pond for the last trip, panting quietly, I momentarily closed my eyes against the blinding setting sun from the east of me. Almost immediately, something big landed on my handlebars. My eyes snapped open and I was facing a terrified owl, wings flapping madly to keep balance.
To put it simply, I screamed.
"AHHHHHHHHACCKKK!"
My handlebars wiggled and the owl began to shriek. I lost balance and rode clear into the curb, falling into the heavily treated grass of the rentention pond. The owl flew up, disgruntled and disheveled, onto a low hanging branch of the tree next to me. Confused and terrified, I jumped to my feet, pointing at the bird.
"You can't be real! It can't be real! I've lost it! My mind has gone completely nutty!"
The owl hooted angrily, dropping an envelope to the grass below. My momentary outrage seeped away quickly as my eyes became glued to the fallen envelope.
"Noo..." I moaned, an invisible pull making me walk over and pick it up. "It can't be true... it just can't!"
Dispite everything, I opened the envelope.
Dear Kimberly,
You've certainly gotten the attention of me, my friends, and my headmaster. What you wrote in your past letter was impossible, yet, it made sense if you knew about Sirius and Pettigrew. I have no clue as to what to say. It's obvious that we won't get solid answers to any of our questions just by writing. There has to be a way for us to meet. My headmaster, Professor Dumbledore, can work out a portkey for you. Just send word with Hedwig and it shall be sent to you.
Please be sure to bring those books you mentioned, perhaps they can give us an answer, as well as anything else you may deem helpful.
Sincerely,
Harry
This was it. I had had enough. Whoever it was that was doing this would have to prove themselves in person. With a smirk on my face and a flurry of metal as I returned my bike to the road, I yelled out to the snowy owl.
"Well, c'mon then! I have to send back a response!"
The owl hooted in agreement, then took flight to fly by my side as I bolted for my house. Nearly hitting the mailbox, pelting up the driveway, I threw my bike aside and put out my arm for the owl to sit on. It gently landed on my forearm and I walked inside the house to my room, letting the owl perch on the headboard of my bed. Throwing a piece of parchment on my desk, pulling out the golden quill and dipping it into the ink, I wrote a quick note.
Looking forward to seeing you and the others, Harry. Please send the portkey, I'll be waiting with the books.
Kimberly
"There," I said to the white owl, folding the parchment and addressing an envelope. "Take this to Harry, please." I laughed at the last statement. Tying the envelope to the owl's let, and took it outside to let it go.
"Sorry I can't give you anything for the trip, but I'll be sure to have something for you when you return."
The owl hooted gruffly and took off, and I watched it go with a smirk on my face.
"Now we'll see..."
People pretty much stayed out of my way the next day at school. I must of had a wierd expression on my face, and I jumped at small noises. My mind was swimming with what was happening to me. Exchanging letters with a fictional character certainly had taken it's toll on my sanity. Emily and Mary did not speak at all to me, they must of thought that I did loose it. I had refrained from telling them anything that happened after the first letter. My teachers thought I was sick or something, twice was I asked if I needed to go home. But I paid no mind to anything, for my body was at school... but my mind was not.
It was a good thing that the next day was a teacher work day, extending the weekend. All I wanted to do when I got home that day was to sit outside and wait. Wait to see if I really had gone mad, if I hadn't already.
Confusing my dad, as soon as I got out of the car, I ran down the driveway and sat on the grass. He didn't bother to ask, and went inside. I crossed my arms, and for five hours, I sat in the Florida sun... waiting.
By the time the sun had almost set, I nearly had tears in my eyes.
"I have... I have lost it! I'm nuts! I need to call Charter! Algebra has finally made me psycho!" I wailed, putting my face in my hands.
Suddenly, something sharp landed on my shoulder, making me leap.
"Holy fruits!!"
The same white owl was perched on my shoulder, a package at my feet that it had dropped.
I calmed down quietly, the owl looking into my eyes curiously.
"So... it is real? It really is?" I whispered.
"Hoot." It responded, making me laugh. I picked up the package and began to open it.
"Well, there's only one true way to find out if I am insane." The package opened and inside was a coin of some sort. It was small, gold in color, with strange writing on it.
"This must be... a portkey?" I whispered. The owl ruffled it's wings and I exhailed deeply. Remembering that I needed my Harry Potter books, and then I wanted to bring the golden quill, I took the package and the owl inside to grab my things.
With everything situated, the books and the quill tucked under my arm, I looked at the owl.
"Well, here goes nothin'!"
Just as I touched the coin, my stomach seemed to lurch out in front of me. The owl flew off my shoulder and out of my room. I was being pulled into the coin!
"AHHH!" I yelped.
Everything began to swirl around me. Clutching the books and the quill close to my body, my room disappeared. For what seemed like forever, I was lost in a confused void, being pulled to some unknown destination. My eyes were shut tight and I was screaming so loud that it was beyond hearing.
Then, suddenly, my feet hit solid ground and I fell flat on my face.
"Ooof! Ahhck!"
The books under my arm were no longer there, the quill lodged between my fingers. My long brown hair tangled around my face as I scrambled to get onto my knees. I was in such a confused mess that it was several moments before I noticed anything around me.
I was on a wooden floor, nicely polished. As my breath quieted, I could hear the cackle of a fire behind me. It's light was warm and as I looked up, it filled a large circular room, an office of some sort.
"Are you alright?" Said a voice with an English accent.
Slowly, my breath stopping, I turned my head to see who spoke. Standing in front of a large fireplace were four people. Three of them were my size in height, and the fourth was tall, most likely an adult. I could not really see their faces clearly, but there was no doubt who they could be.
"Oh. My. God." I squeaked.
One of them stepped forward, a boy with jet black, messy hair, and black glasses. He looked at me with a mix of confusion and wonder, and I saw that he held book one in his hands.
"It can't be... you can't be... no," I whispered, taking a step back from him.
"I... I'm not sure I'm getting any of this either," The boy said.
Hesitating, I crept closer to him. There was only one way to be absolutely sure.
He looked at me carefully as I reached out a hand towards his face. I gave him a look , as if asking him permission, and my hand came up to his forehead. He made no move to argue, and I parted his bangs to reveal what was unmistakably...
A scar in the shape of a lightning bolt.
I had never fainted before... so I'm not quite sure what fainting was like. All I know is, is that once my eyes locked on that famous mark, the world went completely black.
"It's alright now, wake up. Wake up, now..."
There was a gentle voice in my ears, making me feel safe and secure. My eyes remained closed, and I remember thinking how wierd a dream I had.
"Is she alright, Professor?"
"I believe so,"
Professor?
My eyes shot open, and standing above me was an old man, with half-moon spectacles and kind looking eyes. He had a long, bent nose and a wild white beard that hung down his front.
That was no dream. It really... really... really... was real!!
"How do you feel, young lady?" He asked quietly. A tall boy with flaming red hair and freckles flanked him, along with a girl who looked much like me with long brown hair.
"...Ron? Hermione? Professor Dumbledore?" I whispered in disbelief.
The two kids behind the old man looked at me with shock, yet he smiled sweetly, pulling me up gently.
"You must be Kimberly," He said.
The boy that had caused me to faint... the boy with the black hair and glasses... the boy with the lightning bolt scar, came to face me.
"Harry? Harry Potter?" I choked.
"It's nice to finally meet you," He said, uncertainly, handing me back book 1. We both blushed as I took it from him.
"I... I can't believe... I can't believe I'm meeting you. And Ron, Hermione... and you, Professor Dumbledore sir."
Everyone exchanged glances. Hermione was holding book two, Ron was holding book three, and the Professor had picked up book four.
"Er... while you were out, we sort of looked through these books," Hermione said, carefully.
Ron nodded slowly.
"So it is true," Harry and I said in union, exchanging glances and blushing again.
"But how can this be?" Everyone but Professor Dumbledore asked, turning to him on instinct. He looked curiously at my hand, in which I was holding the golden quill.
"Is that what you've been using to write the letters?" He asked, peering at it. I handed it to him, nodding.
"I found it at my uncle and aunt's house two weekends ago, along with the parchment. My uncle did not recognize it, not knowing he had it. So he gave it to me."
Dumbledore looked over the inscription, reading it out loud.
"Rof Ouyr Eepdts Erised."
Everyone stared, including me.
"Do you know what it means?" I asked.
He gave me an inquisitive look.
"How much do you know about your ancestors?"
I thought for a moment, clueless.
"The most I know is that my maternal great grandmother was Irish, my paternal grandmother being German, my paternal grandfather being from the Philippines... all stewed together with more German, some Check, and maybe English or something to come up with my parents being New Yorkers, then me being from Florida. Why?"
Dumbledore looked at the quill closely, Harry and the others edging closer to me and to look at it themselves.
"Rof Ouyr Eepdts Erised. For Your Deepest Desire." He said, clearly. "This is no ordinary quill, but a quill that once belonged to a wizard."
I looked at him blankly.
"A wizard? You mean this quill is... magical?"
He nodded.
"You say your uncle did not know where he got it from?"
"Yes... so, what would my ancestors have anything to do with it?" I asked.
Dumbledore walked over to his desk and sat down. Ron and Hermione looked at me like someone who was dangerous and went to stand closer to him. Harry was the only one who stood by my side.
"Something like this has not been made for a long, long time. Very, very rare these were, even in their day. This quill makes your deepest desire come true, once you write it on parchment."
Everyone turned to look at me, and I blused a deep crimson.
I cleared my throat. "Ehmm... really?"
Dumbledore gave me a long stare.
"So, the quill made your desire come true."
"But how can it all be real?" I squeaked, panicking again. "All of you are charcters in books! How can I have an ancestor who was a wizard, when magic and wizards don't exist? You've all seen the books! It's. Not. Possible."
No one spoke. Ron and Hermione stared at the books as if they were some unknown power. Harry simply looked from me to Dumbledore, and Dumbledore just looked at me patiently.
"A long, long time ago... magic was practiced, in your reality. It was then that a practicing wizard created this golden quill, and it somehow survived the ages and stayed among your family members. Over time, it's meaning was forgotten, and it's magic remained dormant. People lost magic, and so it no longer exists in your world. However, because of your ancestor, magic is in you, and this allowed you to unleash the power of the quill once more. It has done what it was made to do, make your deepest desire come true." He smiled broadly, glancing at everyone.
"You must have been really anxious to meet us, Kimberly."
I smiled weakly, and Harry shuffled his feet.
"But umm..." I muttered. "That still does not explain how it made me able to contact fictional characters, no disrespect or anything."
"In your world, we are fictional. You only know us through those books. But we do exist, in a parallel world, created by those in the original world. The magic of the golden quill has opened a gateway between them, making the impossible in your world, possible."
No one said anything for a few minutes, but then Harry broke the silence.
"So..."
I stared at him, still disbelieving.
"So,"
"Umm, would you like me to show you around Hogwarts?"
He held out his hand, and I took it, my shock subsiding and an excited grin on my face.
"Let's go!"
How can I begin to tell you how wonderful it was to actually see everything that I had only seen in my dreams in person? Having all these things that were supposed to be fantasy, actually be real and true? To walk beside Harry, Ron, and Hermione... meeting all the other Hogwarts students, see the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall, meet Hagrid, watch Harry fly on a broomstick, and witness magic.
But like everything that you never want to end, it came time that I should of been going home, and the four of us trudged up to Professor Dumbledore's office for my ticket back to Florida.
Before we entered the magical staircase, I turned to Harry and them.
"I don't want to go back,"
They nodded sadly.
"We wish you could stay, really..." Hermione sniffed.
I hesitated, twiddling my thumbs.
"Do you think... do you think we could keep writing to one another?"
They all looked at me as if I were stupid.
"Well of course! Do you think we'd just wave good bye and that's that? How many people do you meet that come from a different reality where you yourself does not exist?" Ron gasped.
I laughed and Harry leaned closer to me.
"Maybe we could visit each other again, too. I've always wanted to go to the beach."
"I thought you'd never ask! Looks like we've all got a date with the beach."
Dumbledore called us in, and once inside we all said our goodbyes. We promised to continuing writing and that soon we'd all get together again. I took the portkey in my hand, the quill and the books in the other, and I was pulled back to my bedroom.
For the longest time, I sat on my bed, thinking about all that happened. I had an ancestor who was a wizard, Harry and Hogwarts was real, and I owned a magical object that grants my deepest desire to come true.
Ohh, how so totally cool!
Harry and I, along with Ron and Hermione, meet all the time now on days off. I took them all to the beach, and boy did they get a nasty sunburn. Durring the winter break, they've promised to let me come to Hogwarts and see snow. For I've never seen snow in person before.
We write to each other as much as possible, me using the magical golden quill. I don't talk about it all with my friends and with my parents, they'd never believe me. They haven't met Harry and them, so all they know is, is that I've been hanging with people.... people from, Britain.. which is not too unusual since Orlando is the destination station for people from around the globe.
So, now you and everyone else really has to stop and think. Is there really a thing as impossible? If you have the desire, the impossible can indeed come true.
For it has for me.
A/N: Well, what did you think? Yes, I know... not my best, I have done better. It really suffered with school, 9 Wks. exams coming up this week, lack of sleep due to homework, art projects, etc. etc. I promise, promise, promise that you will get what you know me well for in the 4th and last series in the "Renee Chronicles". I'm not sure what to do with it yet, but I will put that at the top of my fanfic priorities.
But, if you could be a nice person (and I stress on the nice part), leave a review. Yes, I know about my typo and spelling problem, but I don't feel like explaining to you why. ::waves goodbye:: Well, keep an eye out for the next Renee series!
~OrcaPotter