Disclaimer: Harrys entire, wonderful world all belongs to JKRowling.
Im just pleased my request to use her characters was
approved. Also, the quote is by our dear friend Ron in Prisoner of Azkaban.
A/N: Originally submitted as an entry in the SugarQuill First Task Tournament.
Several puzzles to find here, especially for writers.
Ron ripped the brightly colored cellophane wrapper from the sugar quill
and jabbed the end of it into his mouth. He swirled his tongue around
the end of it, savoring the dark, fruity flavor. Mmmm,
raspberry truffle. This should help me think of what to write.
With that, he glanced around to see how the others were doing on their
essays for Binns class, since the writing on his own parchment was
Nearing the end of term, the usually casual atmosphere of the Gryffindor
Common Room was quietly studious. A few students in the corner stubbornly
chatted while their books lay open in front of them, but the rest were
hard at work, studying for exams, completing charts, or writing essays.
The only truly cheerful contribution to the room was the crackling fire
in the hearth, popping and sparking merrily with no regard to classwork.
All the fifth year students, save Ron, were hunched over the tables around
him, poring over their books, pausing thoughtfully, then writing onto
their strips of parchment. The essay assignments for History of Magic
and Potions would have been atrocious separately, but to have them both
due at the same time was, to Rons thinking, insane.
Both the enormity of the task before him, and the deafening silence, were
making him crazy. So Ron sat sprawled in his chair, leaning back from
the table at an angle to give his legs room, one foot bouncing on his
other knee. His widening shoulders and long arms kept encroaching farther
and farther into Hermiones space, as she sat beside him at the small
table, and her large stack of books were in peril of being pushed off
onto the floor. (She shot him warning looks from time to time, but to
no avail, as he was ignoring her quite successfully.)
Ron looked over at his best friend across the table and quickly leaned
Harry! Ron whispered. Harry!
Harry had been concentrating and writing purposefully, over halfway done
with his History of Magic essay. He frowned at the interruption, but hed
been expecting it--he was quite aware Ron was having trouble getting started.
He looked up and waited.
Ron wasnt sure where he was going with this--he just needed some
conversation. He spied the writing quill in Harrys one hand, an
orange-colored sugar quill in the other. What flavors yours?
Harry frowned again. Oh, that was important. But then, it was Ron. To
humor his friend, he looked at the sugar quill and tasted it again quickly.
Tangerine, I think.
Ron reached out and grabbed the Honeydukes box from the middle of
the table, peering inside. Only two left. Just as he was about
to tell Harry, One more for each of us, something shot from
his right side, hitting him in the arm, and yanked the box from his grasp
in a split second.
The box held deftly in one hand, Hermione used her other to pluck a purple-striped
red quill from inside. First of all, one of them is mine,
she said with mock intensity, and since we all chipped in to
buy them, we should all decide what to do with the last one. She
was rarely that concerned, or interested, in sweets, but sucking on the
sugar quills seemed to help her think of what to write when she was tired,
and after all, fair was fair. I know--whoever gets done with their
essays first gets the last one.
Ron sneered at her. Oh, thats a fine idea. I wonder wholl
be done first. He looked at the length of her completed essay for
Potions, and the History of Magic paper shed finished the majority
Well, if youd started right away when we came in, youd
be much closer to finished, too. Hermiones scolding was not
helping Rons mood. Do you even know
writing on yet? She roughly pulled his parchment around so she could
read the little hed written. The battle strategy of
the Duke of Yidhuth in the war to overtake the goblins at Spurr,
she read. Theres plenty of information on that--shouldnt
be too hard.
Thank you for that, Ron said sarcastically, dragging his parchment
back. Thatll make it much easier.
Harry was anxious to get back to his work before he lost his train of
thought, and before the fight across the table really began in earnest.
Hermione, why dont you just put the quill back in the middle,
and well decide who gets it when were ALL done?
Hermione didnt say anything, but flashed a glare at Ron and set
the box down as suggested.
Ron sat sullenly (though quietly now), frowning at the book in front of
him. He heard rustling next to him, even though he was trying hard not
to look her direction. Squinting sideways so she wouldnt notice,
he saw Hermione remove the wrapper from her sugar quill, and absently
set the sweet between her lips as she read. Engrossed, she didnt
notice him studying her as she pursed her lips a bit around the quill.
She took it from her mouth and licked her lips, making them all fascinatingly
shiny and wet. The red of the quill had deepened their color a bit, bringing
out the blush of her cheeks, and--
Ron suddenly caught himself feeling a bit strange--not bad
strange. Have I gone mad?
he thought to himself. Why am I staring
at Hermiones lips, for heavens sake? She must have made me
do this--some spell or something.
He became very irritated at himself,
and at her, and felt the need to crunch something immediately. Ron bit
down hard on his sugar quill, loudly cracking the sweet little pieces
between his teeth.
Everyone within a ten foot radius looked up from their studies until they
realized what the odd noise was. But Hermione was the only one who felt
it necessary to say something, since the sound was closest and loudest
to her ear.
You know, thats very bad for your teeth. My parents have to
tell their patients all the time. You shouldnt eat sweets
at all, anyway, but then, crunching down hard on foods when you eat can
really cause trouble for you later. The ones who dont listen
are always back--job security, my parents call them. And besides--its
Hmmm- really? Ron said nonchalantly, biting off another small
piece and leaning in closer to crunch it in her ear even louder than before.
Hermione just glared at him, then turned to face away and continue with
her work. She ignored his irritating crunching until his quill was finished,
knowing there were none left to torment her with.
But ten minutes and one written paragraph later, the last remaining quill
in the box had begun to torment Ron. He was partly tired of sitting there,
and partly convinced the quill would help him think. Seeing that Harry
was concentrating hard on his essay, and Hermione was facing away, he
quietly reached out toward the box and eased his fingers inside.
-- The loud, sudden sound of Hermiones small hand
slapping Rons large one made several people jump and several others
loudly whisper, Shhh!
Hermione, blushing, crouched down in her seat. See? she fired
at Ron. Youre bothering everybody!
I didnt make any noise! Ron protested. You did!
Well, youre not going by our agreement!
I never agreed to anything--you and Harry did!
Hermione let out an exasperated noise and tried to get back to work.
Ron smiled to himself. Aha!--another diversion--another game. He knew
hed be sorry later when everyone else was finished with homework
but him, but he just couldnt resist harassing Hermione a little
bit more. After letting her get well involved with her work once more,
Ron reached toward the box, taunting her, moving slowly so shed
notice what he was doing, then closed his hand around the opalescent white
sugar quill within.
Hermione took the bait. Grabbing his hand this time instead of slapping
it (hopefully making less noise, she thought), she started to pull up
to get the quill away from him, when, to her surprise, another hand closed
in on top of hers.
Okay, you two! Thats it!
Harry, who had been a silent witness to most of this, had begun to feel
like he was babysitting four-year-olds. He needed to get his work done,
and to keep his two friends from distracting him and everyone else. (He
also made a mental note to keep Ron and Hermione from sitting next to
one another on study nights from now on.) He was fed up and planned on
taking care of the problem himself-- right now!
As Harrys hand closed on Hermiones, which was closed on Rons,
all three of them suddenly felt a semi-familiar pull behind their navels.
They looked at one another wide-eyed for a brief moment, before the whirling
sensation from the sugar quill/portkey ripped them from the room.
~~~ * * * ~~~
It appeared to be a busy village street of some sort, not unlike Hogsmeade
or Diagon Alley. The only problem was-- they had never seen this place
Stunned, Harry, Hermione, and Ron just stood on the walkway where they
landed, hands still clinging together around the sugar quill. Ron, somewhat
embarrassed that he might have somehow caused all this, shook off Harrys
and Hermiones hands, and held out the sugar quill to Harry.
Maybe youd better take care of this, Ron said sheepishly.
Then a note of irritation crossed his voice. Who in the world would
make a sugarquill a portkey, anyway?
Hermione was still baffled by the whole incident, but optimistic. Maybe
it was a mistake. We should try and use it to get back.--maybe the ports
Nah--usually has to be at least a full day or so before they can
reset. My dad told me, Ron said knowledgeably. He knew Harry and
Hermione had precious little experience with such issues.
A whole day? Hermione didnt want to sound discouraged,
but she did appear a little deflated.
Harry, more interested in figuring out where they were, grabbed and quickly
shoved the sugar quill into the inside pocket of his robes. The three
each turned in their own circle, scanning their surroundings, and looking
for any sign of familiarity.
Do either of you have any idea where we are? Harry
Ron and Hermione shook their heads absently, still looking around.
Hermione had begun to focus on the huge crowd of people surrounding them,
passing them, bumping into them, and overall, ignoring them. But she began
to notice what she could, finding they seemed to be of all different races,
ages, and sizes. Most of them also seemed to have a destination and appeared
to be moving steadily towards it.
Excuse me, she said to a young man passing them. Excuse
me, can you help us?
The young man stopped and looked at her, but did not speak.
Can you tell us where we are? she asked politely.
The man answered in a language she did not understand. If he told her
anything that would help, she didnt know it. The man walked on,
and she tried again.
Excuse me, she told an elderly lady passing by. Can
you tell us where we are?
The woman looked at her as if she were speaking a foreign language this
time, and Hermione nearly turned away. But then, the woman spoke. Youre
in Rohtua. Didnt you know? No one just happens to be here, you have
to work at it. She looked at Hermione as if she were nutters, then
hurried off before any of them could get out a word.
Hermione herself was thinking maybe she was crazy, or, at the least,
not hearing correctly.
What did she say? Harry asked, watching after the old woman.
This is Raw-too-uh, or something. Then she said no one just happens
to be here, they have to work at it? Hermione questioned, as much
to herself as to Harry.
Ron just shook his head. Great, Hermione. One who doesnt speak
English, and one whos bonkers. Good choices to help us. He
walked away as Hermione was about to reply to his rude remark, and stopped
at the curb, looking up and down the street. He could see over the heads
of most of the people, and he scanned the low buildings for any signs
he could recognize. If he was, indeed, the one who got them into this
mess, he was determined to get them out.
Ron was about to turn back to Harry and Hermione when he felt something
pulling at the hem of his robe. Thinking someone had stepped on the back
of it (which rarely happened since Rons robes were chronically short),
he grabbed at the robe and pulled it loose. But as he turned away, the
tugging became stronger.
Ron spun around quickly, thinking someone was toying with him, to see
a small child looking up. The two stared at one another for a moment.
Can you see my Bun anywhere from up there? the tiny girl asked,
wide-eyed. Wisps of light brown hair that had escaped her ponytail blew
in the light breeze around her face.
Your Bun? Ron repeated, bewildered.
Yes, the child said, as if Ron should know what she was talking
about. My Bun for my story. I had him with me, and now I cant
find him. Do you see him anywhere?
Being one of the youngest in the Weasley family, with no young nephews
or nieces quite yet, Ron did not have a great deal of experience with
very young children.
His only thought was that he needed to be looking for a way to get his
friends and himself out of here, not looking for a Bun, whatever that
was. With the patience that Ron was famous for, he made a decision.
Nope. Sorry. Dont see any Bun from here. See ya later.
With that, he started to walk away, back toward Harry and Hermione. Until
he heard her start to cry.
Ron stopped at the sound and groaned, dropping his head back in frustration.
He turned back to the tiny girl and squatted down to her level as he reached
Look. Dont cry. Its okay. Dont cry. He looked
around for help from his friends, but they were busy trying to get straight
answers from anyone else on the street. Ron turned back to the little
girl, realizing he was no better at handling crying females at six years
old than when they were much older. Are you lost?
No, she sobbed, rubbing her eyes with a little balled-up fist.
Ron looked up and down the street again from this angle. Well, who
brought you here?
Sniffling, it took her several tries to get it out. My--my--my teacher.
Ron was almost relieved. If there was a teacher, there must be a school
nearby. He couldnt tell if this was a village of magical people,
or Muggles, but between Harry, Hermione, and himself, they should be able
to find out where they were and get back to Hogwarts either way.
Fearing he would lose her in the crowd, Ron awkwardly held out one long
forefinger to the little girl, who took it willingly and followed behind
him back to Harry and Hermione. As the two broke free of the mass of people,
Harry and Hermione turned to stare at their tall friend and the tiny person
walking next to him clinging to his hand.
Rons face was a bit pink as he approached and tried to answer the
question his two friends had on their faces. She lost her Bun.
They looked even more confused, so Ron shrugged his shoulders at them
and went on. But she says her teacher brought her here, so there
must be a school or something nearby. What did you two find out?
Not much, Harry replied. These people all seem to be
so involved in their own thoughts. They dont want to be stopped
or interrupted. And theres so many different languages here.
Whats her name? Hermione asked Ron.
Her name? I dont know, Ron replied with an air of who
Honestly, Ron! Hermione knelt down next to the little girl
to ask her.
Catarina, the girl replied. Have you seen my Bun?
No, Catarina. But well try to help you find it, okay? Im
Hermione. She didnt have much experience with small children,
either. But she did know they didnt have to be treated like alien
babies. Hermione offered her own hand, but Catarina would not let go of
Ron, feeling smug that Catarina trusted him, squatted down to her. Which
way do you think your Bun is?
Catarina looked both ways up and down the street, then wordlessly led
off in one direction, pulling Ron by the finger behind her. The three
of them followed Catarina up the street, looking for anything that appeared
remotely like a school or institutional building of any kind. As they
passed a small grassy area in front of an older, vine-covered house, Catarina
looked towards a huge alder tree. Below it she had spied something aqua
blue and fluffy, and she darted towards it immediately. She ran to what
was, apparently, her Bun and grabbed it up, hugging it mercilessly.
Watching after her as she ran, Harry, Ron, and Hermione slowly followed
behind, hoping to see her teacher, or anyone else she might know, that
could help them. As luck would have it, they spotted someone hurrying
towards Catarina from a wide, open porch: a middle-aged woman (similar
in size, shape, and age to his own Mum, thought Ron).
As they all approached Catarina, she appeared to have difficulty choosing
which way to run first. But she decided to call out, Ive found
my Bun! Now I can finish! to Ron, Harry, and Hermione, as she held
out a very large, fluffy aqua stuffed toy bunny. Catarina ran to hug the
womans legs, then turned briefly to wave shyly at Ron before running
inside the house.
Thank you for bringing her back, the woman said, turning to
go back inside.
Wait! Harry said rather loudly.
The woman stopped in her tracks, startled.
Harry looked embarrassed. I mean, could you talk a moment and help
Well, I guess so, she turned to say slowly, eyeing them a
Were sort of lost and we were wondering, Harry looked
to Ron and Hermione for support, Is there anyone from the Ministry
we could talk to? Then he happened to think maybe this was a Muggle
village, albeit a strange one. Or maybe a police station, or something?
Anyone in charge?
The woman stared at them, visually inspecting them even more now. Why?
Should you be in the blocked section? Or are you---? Her fingers
flew nervously to cover her mouth as she thought of something. Did
someone ask to use you? Because if they havent and youre out
here on your own... she finally blurted out, acting a bit afraid.
The three friends looked at one another in complete confusion once more.
What in the world was she talking about?
We dont want to hurt anyone, Hermione interjected. We
just want to get back to where we belong.
The woman pointed farther down the street. There--down there--to
the corner and turn left. See Dr. Persimmon. She hurried nervously
away toward the house, clearly done with the conversation.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at one another.
What was all that about? Ask to use us? For what? This place is
weird, Ron stated.
Well, our choice is to go meet this Dr. Persimmon or keep trying
on our own. If hes a doctor, he must be somewhat intelligent. I
vote for Dr. Persimmon, Hermione reasoned.
Unless hes a witch doctor or something, Ron replied.
Hermione glared at Ron. Witches are perfectly capable of being excellent
It took him a moment to realize what hed said wrong. No, not
that kind of a witch doctor. I mean, the kind who live with cannibal tribes
and such--you know, sticking pins in voodoo dolls and all that ancient
Dark Magic stuff. As if we dont have enough Dark Magic to deal with
on our own... Ron rambled.
Harry sighed and started walking. Lets just go.
Dr. Persimmon was not difficult to find. Even those who would not verbally
answer the three friends were happy to point the way. All went well until
Harry, Ron, and Hermione reached their final destination: a huge, sprawling
oak tree sporting a small, but elegant treehouse on it wide limbs. Apparently,
to reach the good doctor, some ladder climbing was in order.
Word of mouth had alerted Dr. Persimmon that guests were coming. He was
not surprised as Harry, Hermione, and finally, Ron (folding himself into
as small a personal space as possible) crawled into the lavish, but tiny
treehouse and sat down.
Well, well. Guests. I have a lot of guests, you know, but usually
at my invitation. Sugar quill? Dr. Persimmon, a short, round bald
little man with a bright red driving cap, held out a large decorative
glass jar filled with more flavors than even Honeydukes had ever
Harry, Ron, and Hermione each took one carefully (thinking it best to
be polite under the circumstances), remembering what the last one they
had touched had done to them. They watched as Dr. Persimmon pushed up
his little square glasses on his round nose and poked a sweet into his
mouth as well.
So... theyve sent you to me. And you seem to be lost. Do you
belong in the blocked section? Dr. Persimmon asked, talking around
the sugar quill in his mouth as one might with a cigar. I can send
you over there with Myrna to see if you can get rid of it if you wish.
The three friends looked at each other with the same alarming thought.
They didnt want to go anywhere they had to get rid of something,
whatever it was. They wanted to keep all they came with, thank you very
No. No, were pretty sure we dont need to go there,
Harry said, trying to sound sure of himself.
Dr. Persimmon pulled at his red and purple suspenders, thinking and looking
at them. Hmmm, and I thought maybe you three were all just blocked.
Especially that one--, the little man said, gesturing toward Ron.
Certainly gave me all the signs.
Ron eyes went wide and his jaw dropped. He wasnt sure what the signs
of being blocked were, but whatever they were, he didnt want to
be giving them out to complete strangers.
Well, youre not blocked, and youre not working toward
your ending, or youd know that... The doctor was talking it
through with himself more than he was talking to the three friends. Then
you must be... He squinted at each of them, peering deeply into
their eyes and their faces. But you cant be...Youre
so...real, he finally said in disbelief. Do you know whos
asked for you?
Ron was getting fed up with not understanding and threw his hands in the
air before landing them back in his lap. Yes, of course, were
real. No, we dont know why were here, and yes, I guess were
lost, but why would anyone ask for us if we dont even know anyone
here? His impatience was apparent in his voice.
Dr. Persimmon seemed uncertain how much to say. Well, someone must
have... He raised his finger in the air. Aha! I know--Ill
check the book. The one who requested you most recently wont be
there, but all the previous ones should be. The little round man
stood and walked to a podium in the corner which held a very large, thick
book. Your names, please?
The students looked at one another. He was going to look them up in this
book? They wondered if they should even give their names, but
at this point, it couldnt make matters much worse.
Hermione went first. Hermione Granger. Or it might be under Granger,
Hermione, if its indexed.
Dr. Persimmon went to work, flipping more pages than it seemed possible
the book could hold, even as thick as it was. Mumbling her name to himself,
something dawned on him. Hermione Granger...Granger...G..R..A..
He looked up at her, startled. Granger? THE Hermione Granger?
Harry and Ron looked at Hermione strangely. It was usually Harry who got
this kind of reaction from others, not Hermione. What had she done to
become THE Hermione Granger in the doctors book?
All of a sudden, the doctor gasped, staring at them. Yes...Yes...Of
course!! And youre..youre Ron Weasley! he said, pointing
at an amazed Ron. Which means youre...youre the ...
Famous Harry Potter, Harry finished for him wearily.
Oh, Im honored...so honored!! To have all three of you! And
now, it makes perfect sense--why youre so real, why I couldnt
tell, why it seemed like you were wizards all the time! Dr. Persimmon
was so flustered he couldnt stop talking.
All six teenage ears perked up at the word wizards. So this
was a magical community? They could use magic without fear of the Ministry
Harry approached the subject cautiously, even with that said. So
you have other wizards here, then, do you?
Well, of course! Dr. Persimmon burst out. All the Rohtua
people are wizards! And some of the greatest there are, I might add! We
can make people do whatever we wish--good things, bad things, exciting
things. We can paint the sky purple, and create a world underwater. We
can make animals no one else ever thought of, and make them talk, or write
poetry, or take over the Earth. We can make people love or despise one
another. We can tell the most powerful people in the world, or even monsters
and dragons, what they have to do!
Ron was having trouble believing this. Even Dumbledore, or the horrific
powers of Voldemort, couldnt do the things this man was talking
about. He must be bonkers, too. You can tell dragons what to do?
he said doubtfully. And they do it?
Yes, we have for years! And I mean to tell you--I have never had
such honored guests in my home before. Why--more people have asked for
you three in your short time here than anyone else--ever.
Harry and Ron seemed just as mentally lost as when they arrived. But Hermione
looked as if the gears in her mind were beginning to turn.
The Rohtua people--they usually are working toward an ending unless
theyre blocked? she asked tentatively.
Yes, usually, Dr. Persimmon answered, eager to answer her
questions. Sometimes they need to go to the blocked section, and
just sit and think. At times eating sugar quills helps them, so we keep
lots of them there--you know, for medicinal purposes. In fact, one of
the greatest wizards ever recorded once said, and I quote, there are really
excellent sugar quills, which you can suck on in class and just look like
youre thinking what to write next.
Ron wrinkled his brow in thought. Bloody hell, that sounded familiar!
But he was distracted by Hermione, who started jumping up and down with
a huge triumphant smile on her face, deciding to cease when the treehouse
began teetering with each jump. I knew it! I knew it! Youre
talking about writing, not wizardry! You write towards en ending unless
you have writers block! I dont know about sugar quills helping,
but I know you need to have characters in your stories, that maybe you
can request to use if they belong to someone else. Or else you can use
your own, like Catarina and her Bun! Thats why there are so many
different languages, writers of so many races and ages, men, women, and
children. Youve been talking about writing all the time, not wizardry!
Dr. Persimmon looked stumped. Well, he said quietly, and completely
perplexed, arent they the same thing? We mix ideas like potions
and weave words like enchantments. If its done right, we cast a
spell over the reader--writing is the greatest form of wizardry! Doesnt
everyone know that? Thats what had me so confused about the three
of you. So many people have asked for you, and filled you in with their
stories, and made you their friends--theyve made you so real, I
thought that you were one of us. Look! Look here in the book! See how
many request entries there are for the three of you!
Harry, Hermione, and Ron carefully made their way through the cramped
room toward the huge book. Each looked under their names and at the thousands
of names below it under requests to use. Some names listed
were the same, some different, but the three did notice they all had the
same initials listed under the heading of Creator: JKR. All three of them
returned to their seats silently, seriously humbled by their apparent
popularity, though still uncertain what it meant to them.
So, all of our friends at Hogwarts are in the book, too?
Certainly, the doctor replied. And any family members,
The three shifted in their seats, feeling a little sad at mention of Hogwarts
and family members--they still didnt know their way back home.
But, Dr. Persimmon, we arent the same kind of wizards as the
Rohtua, and we cant stay here, Hermione stated. Even
though we write sometimes, and get writers block-- Hermione
glanced to her side.
Ron looked up and glared at her. Hey, what are you looking at me
We cant figure out how to get there without waiting for the
portkey. She recounted the events that led up to their transport
by portkey. Show him, Harry.
Harry reached into his robe pocket and carefully pulled out the opalescent
white sugar quill. He handed it over to Dr. Persimmon.
The little round man held the sugar quill up to the late afternoon light
of the window, and seemed able to see things about it the three friends
did not. Ahhh! Its not only been made a portkey, or whatever
you call it-- its been enchanted.
Enchanted? How? Harry asked.
Someone where you came from wanted you here, but for only a short
time, Persimmon explained. They sent you here to find out
how important you are to others. But they didnt want you to be here
forever. This quill has a timer, of sorts, on it, set to return
especially quickly. Its set to take you back to Hogwarts
in about ten minutes. You know, if you werent as real as you seem
to others, this wouldnt have been possible. We would have known
you were characters right away and you wouldnt have been allowed
here without a specific request. Is there anyone who would want you to
know how much you mean to others?
Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at one another. Dumbledore,
they said in unison. With the dark times ahead, hed want them to
know how hard they had to work to take care of each other.
Somewhat tired and talked out, and now having their problem resolved,
the three friends waited quietly in the treehouse for it to be time.
Dr. Persimmon waited with them, chatting at them about odds and ends.
Suddenly he jumped to his feet, and grabbed the jar of sugar quills. Oooh--better
take some with you--just to get you through those essays you told me you
have to finish.
Ron groaned. Oh, I forgot about those. Do any of your writing wizards
want to come back with me? he added hopefully.
Dr. Persimmon chuckled. No, Im afraid we cant do that.
Maybe youd just better take some extras. He pushed the jar
at Ron, who took a number of sticks, then held it out for Harry and Hermione
to take several quills each.
Or we could just send you over to the blocked section instead,
Hermione suggested to Ron, smiling at him teasingly.
He tried to think of a witty response, but her smile distracted him too
badly. Oh, so very funny, was all he could manage as he sneered
Ron was still looking a bit confused as the three of them got in position
with their hands all stacked atop the opalescent sugar quill/portkey held
in Rons large hand. So, what youre saying then is, we
dont get to choose what we do in our lives on our own? Ron
Sometimes you do. Just sometimes we have to use our wizardry to
change it a little so that it fits our needs. The more real you become
to the wizard whos writing, the more often you get to choose what
you do on your own. The doctor suddenly had a teasing smile on his
face. Just keep in mind what great wizards we can be. You dont
want to give us too much trouble, or we might be able to make things difficult
for you in some of the more important parts of your life.
Dr. Persimmon looked directly from Rons face to Hermione, smiling,
then back at Ron again. Rons face went bright red--it was obvious
he got the message.
You said we werent real. But we are. I can feel Hermiones
hand on mine. (She blushed a bit at that.) And Im sure
she can feel Harrys hand on hers. I just still dont understand
how we cant be real.
I only said you werent real, at one time. You were
created. But since then, youve become real, because people know
you, and love you, and spend time with you--thats where the magic
comes in. Youve been friends to some who are lonely, or sick, or
sad--thats why they request to use you in their stories--they cant
wait for your creator to write more so they can spend more time with you.
So they choose to do their own wizardry and magic with you themselves
and write their own adventures, which in turn makes you more real to them
over again, and to everyone else. Its just a cycle. Its been
that way with different people in books over years and years. Oh--and
I should mention, youre always real to one another.
Well, I guess thats a relief, anyway, Harry said,having
listened quietly to all the little round man was saying.
Rons, then Hermiones, then Harrys hand began to warm
together as they felt the sensation pulling behind their navels once again.
The three of them looked back through their whirling vision at Dr. Persimmon,
who barely had time to raise his hand in goodbye-- and then, in a wispy
spiral of opalescent white mist, they were gone.