Living in Fantasies

Chapter 2: The Portkey

My jaw dropped in surprise. Mark stuttered next to me, "Thank you so much, Mrs. – Um, Mrs. Rowling!"

"Call me Jo," she said. I sank into the couch. This was the coolest thing that had ever happened in my life.

"Why – I mean, is there a reason we get the books early?" I asked.

"Well, you guys, Mark and Lisa, could have no way of knowing how important you are to me. You've done so much already, and I wanted to have a way to thank you." She paused for a moment, enjoying our beaming faces. "There are some things I will have to ask you to oblige," she said, becoming only slightly more serious. "You will have to return to your hotels secretly so that no one will see you with the books."

"Of course," Mark said.

"And also," she continued, "I will have to ask you to not be in contact with anyone until after our interview tomorrow. By this I mean please do not go on the internet or make any phone calls to let people know you received these books early. I'm sure you understand," she added.

We nodded, still completely excited.

"With that," she said, clapping her hands together, "I think we can get you a little present." She pulled from behind her chair two crisp copies of the beloved book, and handed one to each of us. I believe a tear fell out of my eye.

"Thank you," we both said. She smiled in reply.

Hugging our books very tightly to our chests, Jeeves, I mean to say, Frank, led us out a different door from when we came in. The door actually led directly outside to where a limo was parked, waiting for us. I just looked at Mark, who looked determined to read that book.

Jeeves was the one to drive us. He very wisely kept the lights on inside the cabin, and Mark and I immediately began devouring the first chapter.

I was making tons of little exclamations, mainly just gasping or saying "No!" what I had just read, but Mark was too deeply immersed to acknowledge it.

I hadn't realized it until Jeeves was opening my door that we had arrived at the hotel. I quickly finished the last page of the first chapter and noticed Mark was doing the exact same. I only briefly recognized that he was the only person I had ever met who could read as fast as I could.

We tucked our books under our arms, gave Jeeves a quick "Thanks!" and almost ran through the hotel doors. It wasn't easy in my heels, but I was far from caring if an ankle broke or what have you. The lobby was mercifully empty, but after all it was probably about midnight right then.

In a frenzy we opened our books again while we waited for the elevator, and again when we were in the elevator. Again with the running to our door while Mark unlocked it and held it open for me. I immediately crashed onto my bed, and got lost in the tale.

I'm glad I was alone when I finished the book, even though I'm sure Mark could hear me weeping.

Slowly I walked to the sitting area and started making coffee. The clock said it was 7:23 AM, and I was still in my dress from the party.

I stared at the coffee machine as it slowly started to drip into the pot. My eyes were burning, but sleep was not going to happen.

I heard Mark enter the room and sit on the couch, but I didn't take my eyes off the dripping coffee. Not until it was finished and I brought over two mugs to the little table in front of the couch.

He was sitting there, looking at the ceiling. His eyes looked red, but he looked at me.

"I bet you we're the only two people in the world who are already finished."

I agreed with him and blew on my hot drink. I knew that couldn't be what he was really thinking, but it was a good break from the silence nonetheless.

Finally, when I was about halfway through the mug, I decided to speak my mind. "It all…it all felt so real, this time."

"It really did."

We didn't have much else to say. There was something that had come over me when I was reading that book; like I needed to be there, like I personally could have helped. I didn't know if maybe my imagination was running away with me or the eight hours of reading had addled me.

"I think breakfast starts downstairs in a few minutes," I said, feeling surreal.

"Mmkay," he said.

I left him on the couch and decided to clean myself up a bit. I changed into some worn jeans and a comfy shirt and washed my face. After a few minutes he changed, too, and we went downstairs together looking thoroughly exhausted.

We ate breakfast in silence, and finished rather quickly. Our talking finally did start when we got back to the room and sat together on the couch.

"I feel like I don't know what to do with myself," I said, curling up with the blanket from my bed.

"Yeah, I think I know what you mean," he responded quietly.

"I'm just so sad he had to die," I moaned.

"I can't say I wasn't expecting it, but it's still hard. I just really wasn't expecting it to be Snape."

We talked it over, but before I knew it we were both sleeping soundly on the couch.

I woke up that afternoon at around one, feeling like brand new. Mark, who looked like he had been up for a while, asked me if I wanted to go to lunch and then meet up with "Jo".

We tried the pizza place on the other side of the street. It was way more casual than the place from last night, but somehow that seemed so long ago.

It was easier to talk now that we had slept a little.

"Do you want to go over the questions we're going to ask?" I said over the gigantic onion-and-mushroom pie in front of us.

"Yeah…" he said slowly."But I was just thinking…Why do you think she gave us the books early? I mean, there were probably about a hundred other things she could have been doing right then, what with her book about to be released…" He kind of trailed off, but I picked up.

"I thought about that," I said. "And you're completely right. Why was she spending her precious time with us? Of all people?"

"Hmm.."

"I guess," I continued, "maybe she just really wants to talk about the book with somebody. I mean, since we're going to be the first people to ever ask her questions about it…she's been keeping this stuff secret for so long she must be dying to talk about it."

"That's probably it," he said. "It's still amazing, though."

"Yeah."

"Well, about the questions…"

We came up with a really solid list of things to ask her together, and I was starting to get excited again. We had been given a number to call when we were ready to meet with her for our personal interview, and no less than fifteen minutes later, an SUV came to pick us up.

It was really a nice little set up she had for us. We were at the hotel she was staying at, and in a private room on the first floor. Her hotel was surprisingly even nicer than ours.

She looked as excited as I felt. We made our introductions and "thank you"s very politely and eagerly and then set up our recording equipment.

The first few minutes could have all been summed up as a giant "Wow!" from the two of us. We literally gushed about the book. After that, it turned into more of a conversation than an interview. "Jo" was really easy to talk to, and she asked us just as many questions as we asked her. There were many things we asked about that she had to smile consolably and tell us that she just couldn't reveal those things, like when we asked if Snape was really good like Dumbledore tried to make them all believe. Finally we got to the romantic portions of the story. She seemed absolutely on edge to see what we thought of Harry and Ginny's relationship, and then with Lupin and Tonks. Overall it was a really fun time, the three of us getting along like old friends.

Sadly, when our two hours were up, Mark concluded the interview by saying what an incredible pleasure it was to experience all of this, and how we couldn't wait for it to happen one more time.

All the recording devices were turned off, but for some reason Jo wasn't getting up from her chair. Mark and I were both standing; obviously ready to say the sad goodbyes we knew would come. But Jo still sat there, smiling.

"Sit back down, you two," she said very gently.

We obliged. Maybe she had a few off-the-record things for us?

"I told you how very special you are to me, how much you've done with your websites and intellect. Well, there's another reason as to why you're so special."

She paused and took a deep breath. "I have something to ask both of you. Something I would really like to know. If this world, which you have so thoroughly read about, is real, would you want to be a part of it?"

It was odd how she was asking this question, but I immediately responded, "I really would."

"Me too," Mark said.

Her face changed a bit, though it was still smiling excitedly. I was a little confused.

"What if I were to tell you that it is real."

There was a thick silence around us. Of course I had spent years imagining that the wizarding world was real…there was my lack of social life to prove it. I somehow got the feeling that Mark was thinking the same thing, except without the part about no social life.

I said nothing. I guess I don't know exactly what was going on in Mark's brain, but he felt the need to say something. "You created it, on paper. It's real in all of our imaginations."

Jo was now looking down, but not with an unpleasant look. "It's a true story. It's happening right now. And if you want, I can make you a part of it."

I was starting to feel as if maybe I hadn't slept in a few days, and my brain was really feeling the effects. I looked at her skeptically, like it was some joke that she just wanted to see how we would respond to.

"I know it sounds a little absurd that this fantastic epic is completely real, but do you think someone could really make all of that up?"

I could hear Mark breathing next to me, but I didn't look at him. I just kept looking at Jo like she was pulling my leg; because now I was just trying to keep my mind from working…trying to not jump to any conclusions.

"Would you go? Could you see yourself there, with those incredible witches and wizards? I can take you. I can make you fit in. You'd have a wand, and—"

"If you can take us, then why don't you?"

I was alarmed that Mark had spoken and interrupted her, but mainly at the defiant tone in which he addressed her.

She was smiling wickedly now, and I don't use that term lightly.

"You believe me, then? And you want to go and help them?"

"This is stupid," I said, unable to help myself anymore.

"No," Mark said, glancing at me. "If she wants to take us, then let's go."

Jo stood up, now looking businesslike. I was quite bewildered at this point. "All right. I have a few things I'll need to fill you in on. You will be arriving in London the day after the sixth book finishes off. You will meet a man named Remus Lupin at the underground station right outside of this hotel. You had been contacted by the Order of the Phoenix exactly one month ago with this letter," she handed Mark a rolled up scroll, and I honestly had no idea where it came from. What the hell was going on?

"You will not speak anything of the books, and I know you will use good judgment when speaking about your knowledge of the Order, and especially of Harry Potter. It is going to be dangerous, and I beg you to think before you act or speak. As far as magic is concerned, you will be equipped with wands, and you will have basic knowledge in performing spells. Things will come quicker to you than to other witches and wizards, because you simply haven't the time to catch up on seven years of magical training."

She took a breath and looked at each of us for a few solid moments.

"You don't believe me," she said, mainly to me.

"You'll have to forgive me," I said, not at all sounding like I wanted to be forgiven, "but it's difficult to just accept that what I've been reading about these fantasy kid stories is real."

She looked harsh. "You know they aren't 'kid stories'. They were never meant to be."

"Why did you ever write about it if it's all real?" Mark said. He was not angry like I was, but determined to solve the riddle coming out of this woman's mouth.

" Mark, what are you talking about? Of course it's not real!" I said, turning to him.

She smiled again. "I didn't think I would have to tell you this, but now you're really going to think I'm insane." She paused. "My brother is Albus Dumbledore."

"Yeah, you really are insane," I said.

"So he asked you to write it all down?" Mark asked.

I couldn't believe Mark was going along with all this. "Let's just get out of here," I suggested, standing. "We have our interview, let's go."

Mark wasn't moving. "Let's just see," he said.

"Will you help them?" Jo asked Mark. "They need you guys. They really do."

Mark looked at me. I was getting flustered. "Whatever," I said, "I'll play along."

"Good," Jo said, serious once more. "That letter," she said, pointing to the scroll Mark was holding, "will bring you to where you need to be." She looked at her Rolex. "It will be activated at exactly four o'clock this afternoon, which is ten minutes from now. Make sure you are both touching it at least 5 seconds to four.

"This is ludicrous," I said.

"Do you have any questions for me?" she asked.

What could I possibly ask her? When was the last time you've taken your meds?

"No," Mark said, turning the scroll over in his hands.

"I'll be going, then." She moved towards the door. "You'll want to read the letter now. Oh, and one more thing…Thank you so much for doing this. You'll understand when you get there. And be on your guard."

And she left us alone.

"Let me see the letter," I said, waiting to read the punch line.

Mark unfurled it.

To The Academy of American Witches and Wizards,

As you may have heard through various sources, the British Wizarding Community is now at war with the revived Lord Voldemort and his army of followers. This includes (but is not limited to): Dementors, Giants, werewolves, and many wizards who are willing to perform The Unforgivable Curses to get what they desire.

This letter is not so much a request for help, but a plea. We have been trying for months to get in contact with this side of the Atlantic with no results, and now we are in dire need of support. The war is soon to spread over all of Europe, and if you can spare any of your able witches or wizards, we will forever be in your debt.

Thank you,

Minerva McGonagall