51.
A BRIEF MELTDOWN

I sat there in the cluttered writing room and slapped myself across the face. I glanced out the window. Some guy was going through our trash. I didn't care.
"Oh, God," I moaned. "This is awful. What am I doing? I've lost it. 'The Keeper Exchange' is as good as dead. I don't-"
Fingers closed over my shoulder. I looked up to see Albus Dumbledore smiling down at me.
"You can't be here," I said.
"I may not be indigenous to this reality, but I assure you I can," he said.
"Well...what is it? Are you here to get me to stop?"
"On the contrary, I came here to tell you to keep writing."
"But chapter 50 was horrible."
"It was just fine," Dumbledore said.
"It was?"
"Yes, it was. You can't stop, Ed. You're the only one who can tell this story. You knew it would be a daunting task when you started, and you've risen to the challenge."
"It doesn't smack of hackwork?"
"It's absolutely captivating. And damned hilarious. You simply must continue; the world cannot have enough laughter."
"But I was going through their favorite movies-"
"Well, come on, we may be wizards, but even wizards love the cinema. We go on staff outings to films, sometimes, if they seem like they must be seen."
I looked at the empty screen.
"I have to finish this story," I said.
"That's the spirit."
"One question."
"Just one?"
"'The Keeper Exchange...'has it already happened?"
"It has," Dumbledore said. "And now you are the conduit by which it must be told."
"Some conduit."
"All you have to do is find the words," Dumbledore said. "The story will fall into place."
"But you know what happens, on the rest of Thursday and Friday and-"
"So do you," Dumbledore said. "What's going to happen?"
He just smiled-
-and then he was gone.