Wondering in Wonderland
"How is a raven like a writing desk?" The Mad Hatter asked, a twinkle in his eye.
"Oh, Professor!" The March Hare scolded. " The same as a rat is like a water goblet. It's a matter of simple transfiguration."
"Too true, Hermione." The Hatter turned to face him. "More tea? Lemon sherbet?"
"No, thank you," Harry replied as politely as he could.
"Have you guessed the riddle yet?" the Hatter asked.
"Riddle? I didn't know there was a riddle,' Harry replied: "What's the question?"
'" I haven't the slightest idea,'" said the Hatter with a knowing gleam.
"I think you do know! Oh, please tell me," He pleaded.
"I can't, " he said emphatically. "If I did, you would never discover you're in love with the Queen."
"The Queen? Who is she?"
"He," the Hatter said with a sly smile.
"Treacle!" cried the Dormouse from his sugar bowl, without considering the absurdity of shouting out the name of a foodstuff.
"Now, Ron," scolded the March Hare. "It's not polite to shout 'Treacle' unless you have some to share."
"Twinkle, twinkle dungeon bat
How I wonder where you're at?
Stalking down the dungeon hall
One look at you and how I fall.
Twinkle, twinkle dungeon bat …"
Here the Doormouse sighed, stopped singing, and promptly fell asleep.
'"Let us move on,'" interrupted the Hatter and with a resounding *pop*, the party disappeared.
"Oh dear," Harry huffed. Now he would never know whom he loved: he sat down and began to cry.
'"Potter? Potter! Wake up. It is past dinner time and do stop that infernal crying or I shall be forced to remove your head," Snape sneered.
Opening his eyes, Harry found himself curled up on the grass by the lake.
Curiouser and curiouser.