"What the hell, Chuck?!" Colin Creevy demanded.

Charles Mason, editor for the Daily Prophet, Supreme Magical book publisher, and spineless ass-kisser, withered under the 20-something's angry glare. Despite Colin not being a very imposing individual, Charles felt his toupee starting to slide as his scalp became increasingly slick from sweat. While his manic need to please others and avoid confrontation served him well when dealing with aristocratic purebloods, tiny but furious aspiring authors could turn his insides cold.

In the most appeasing manner he could manage, the publisher said quietly, "I'm sorry, Creevy. I just can't publish this..."

Colin slammed his fist on Charles' desk, unsettling the stack of papers he had presented to him earlier. "You can't publish this?!" Colin asked disbelievingly, "This is the most revealing biopic of Harry Potter since his defeat of Voldemort six years ago! The public will love to hear about the truth of the greatest wizard of our generation!" He cried passionately. "Well, that's not exactly right..." Charles began, trying his best not to look Colin in the eye, "I've found that the public generally dislike hearing the truth. Especially if it involves anything that matters."

"Chuck, listen. I've got personal interviews, trips to exotic locales, and uncovered secrets about the Potter family! Just try thinking bigger!" Colin pleaded. Charles almost snorted. He wasn't paid to think big- or ever, if he was doing his job right. "Well, yes, and that's the problem. It could offend a lot of people if you say things about Harry Potter that hasn't already been said." Then Colin's anger exploded. "Offend people?! You publish offensive stuff all the time!" "I do not." Charles said defensively.

"Just the other day you published some witch's romance novel where Severus Snape gets an all-male harem and takes Vincent Crabbe as his Butt Princess, and they go on adventures in sodomy with their several underage concubine boys!"(1) Colin screamed. Charles cleared his throat lightly, "Well, it did get a fair number of positive reviews..."

"Fuck getting reviews!" Colin swore.

"But if you try and shut my work out just because what I write is different than the smut you allow every day, then you and everyone like you is a filthy hypocrite!"

The room was silent after that.

Colin pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Look, just read it, alright? I went through a lot and changed a lot as a person in the five months it took to finish writing that piece of shit. Then make your call. That fair, Chuck?" He bargained. Charles considered telling the younger man that he didn't take orders from him, that he deserved some more respect, that Colin Creevy's name would never be on any book cover, and that he hated being called Chuck.

Instead, his shoulders slumped even further as he quietly picked up the stack of papers and began reading.

I learned many things about Harry during my first interview with him. Some of those things personal, and others, magical. I Apperated to meet him at the Leaky Cauldron, with my first discovery being he lived just down the street. Many people assume that the Potter heir would be living at Godric's Hollow. However, living in the home of his murdered parents felt very uncomfortable to the young hero, so he left it to rent a flat in London.

He added that he had also been getting a lot of junk mail from Best Buy.

"Hi there, Harry. Great to see you again!" I greeted.

Harry Potter, age twenty-four, looked tired and the muggle clothing he wore was wrinkled and somewhat faded. But despite that, his green eyes still looked young and his posture was that of a confident hunter. We exchanged a few pleasantries before finding a spot in the back to conduct the interview. Before that, though, he requested a Firewhisky from the bar. Not much of a drinker myself, I ordered nothing and began asking what he had been doing recently.

"So I've been trying out voodoo for the last couple weeks." Harry told me from across the booth we were sharing. "You know, making undead chickens, forming spiritual bonds between dolls and your enemies, stuff like that. When it comes to Dark Magic, Voodoo has actually been pretty fun." I had not expected that answer. Therefore, I'll have to beg your forgiveness for the stammers, long pauses, and verbal slip-ups that my Quick-Quotes Quill picked up.

Now I know why the unabridged ones cost less at Diagon Alley. Again, my apologies.

"Oh. Wow! That's uh... interesting. Could you tell me why you are practicing Voodoo?" I asked. He took a shot of Firewhisky I hadn't noticed earlier and grimaced. "Every wizard and witch training to become an Auror needs to know some form of supplemental magic." He explained to me, before asking a passing waitress for another shot of Firewhisky. "Originally, I had planned on learning Arithmancy after seeing a couple of Aurors fuck a guys day up with calculus. Unfortunately, my tutor was... less than helpful." He explained evasively.(2)

"...That's unfortunate. I understand you're living with your fiancee right now!" I said, eager to change the subject. "How is that going for you?" I asked. "Fucking awful, that's how." He replied bitterly. "Don't get me wrong, I love Ginny, but ever since we moved to London her mother is apperating over every other goddamn day. And it doesn't matter how many cleaning spells we use, she always knows about what's going on the second she steps inside." He said, before waving his fingers. "It's like she can sense the premarital sex."

I gave a short, awkward laugh that sounded similar to a donkey making love.(3)

"Well, mothers-in-law are the price you pay, I suppose?" I tried. "I suppose." He agreed. "What about your other relationships from your school days? Have you stayed in touch with any old friends?" I continued. He lifted himself up slightly to briefly get a better view of the bar. An interviewee getting anxious for more alcohol did not bode well for me. He sat back down and addressed my question. "Sure," he said. "Ron Weasley, an old mate of mine, is also studying to become an Auror. He and I go out drinking sometimes. His wife isn't too keen on that, though." "His wife? That's Hermione Weasley, correct?" I asked.

"Yep. She's got their first kid waiting inside her so she's gotten a bit demanding. Well, more demanding." He corrected. "And I can't blame the guy for wanting to drink! Hell I'd be wasted all the damn time if I had to deal with Ginny like that for nine months."

"How about your other acquaintances from school. You keep in touch with any of them?" I asked. Harry shrugged. "Sort of. Neville's a teacher now at Hogwarts. And if I ever go over there I usually have a pint and shoot the shit with Rubeus Hagrid. We talk about the old days, past battles." He then scratched his chin, as if slowly remembering something. "Wait. Colin Creevy." He said. My name, apparently, registered a old memory somewhere inside his head. "I thought you died at the Battle for Hogwarts."

I raised an eyebrow and as smooth as I could manage, I said, "The reports of my death are greatly exaggerated."(4) Harry shrugged. The Boy-Who-Lived and the supposed Master of Death wouldn't be too surprised by the dead returning, I figured. "Well, I have no idea what Luna is up to. I think she's a nudist or something now?" "Actually, she's a naturalist." I corrected. I had read about Luna Lovegood's work in the Daily Prophet just the previous day while on the Knight Bus. She had been making quite an effort, from what I read. Harry scrunched his eyebrows together in thought. "Isn't that the same thing?" He asked.

It isn't.

"If Luna Lovegood was a nudist, I'd know." I said. Harry snorted. "Would you now?" He asked with a laugh. I got a little red in the face from that. "Also, I heard Draco Malfoy became a Dark Lord." He said lightly.

"But I kinda doubt it. Kid was sort of a pussy." He added. I couldn't have come up with a reply for that if my life depended on it.

"Well, this interview has been interesting." I said with a slight sigh. "Thanks for your time. I'd love to chat again with you sometime." I stood up to leave and began examining my notes. Before I could leave, Harry grabbed my arm and grinned. The empty shot glasses around the table had reached six in number. "Hey, why the rush? How about you come over to my flat and you can have dinner with Ginny and I." He offered. Unbeknownst to me at the time, accepting his offer would lead me down a path full of the drama, fear, humor, and, well... gross oddities of Harry Potter's day-to-day life. I'd have turned him away in a second if I knew what kind of troubles it would cause me. But I didn't have that knowledge, so I accepted as graciously as I could.

Harry Potter stood up quickly, almost losing his balance due to inebriation. He took me by the arm and told me, "We're walking. I'm way past the legal limit to Apparate."

Footnotes:

1. Severus and the Mystical Love Journey. Currently a best-seller and #1 on Witch Weekly's book list.

2. I discovered Harry Potter's original Arithmancy tutor was Cho Chang. As it turns out, she knew very little Arithmancy, and he only went to her for help because "Asians are supposed to be wicked at math". This eventually led to a falling out between the two.

3. Damn you, unabridged version of the Quick Quotes Quill!

4. I quoted the American author Mark Twain then. I always, always, always wanted to use that in conversation, therefore every so often I fake my own death so I'll have something clever to say at parties.