This would be my most difficult mission yet. Wrapping my long, thick robes around me, I closed my eyes and focused on my stolen InterFiction badge. (Well, it wasn’t really stolen… more like, “never returned.”) Moments later, I stood in the stone hallway of a strange, medieval mansion. I looked about furtively, trying not to look suspicious, but nobody seemed to be around. Getting my bearings, I headed toward a door just ahead on my left, where I could hear the faint sound of voices arguing. I knew it would be no good trying to barge in, the person I needed to see had a wand and was a bit jumpy at the moment. I had no interest, at my age, in being stunned or petrified. So, I waited.
The young man in question came barreling out of the door a few moments, and much shouting, later and nearly ran me over.
“Harry?” I asked, though the question was more to get his attention than because I didn’t know.
He stared at me, his eyes wide with panic. “Who are you?” His wand came out and leveled at me.
I raised my hands. “Just a friend of Padfoot’s.”
His expression became more guarded, but he lowered the wand slightly.
“He’s got him, doesn’t he? I knew it! I have to get to him!”
“No, wait. Your friend is safe, but don’t take my word for it,” I said. “Use the mirror.”
The boy’s face took on a puzzled expression. “The… mirror?”
“Yes,” I urged. “The mirror Padfoot gave you. Before you do something reckless, try that first. Kreacher has no reason to love you or your friend, he cannot be trusted.”
Harry’s expression cleared as understanding dawned. “The mirror!” he exclaimed. “Of course! Why didn’t I think of that first?” He reached out and grabbed my hand, pumping it up and down. “I don’t know how you knew about that, but thank you! Thank you!”
He dashed off down the corridor, and I watched in satisfaction. That was settled. It would change the book, possibly the series, by rather a lot, but I felt that the change would be worth it.
I pulled out my badge and began to focus on it. I wanted to try to see if I could use it to go from one book to another without traveling home first, and for the book I had in mind, my attire wasn’t too out of the ordinary. But just as the lights began to flare blue something heavy struck my hand, knocking it from my grasp and sending it skittering across the floor.
“Eh, what’s this then?” a creaky, angry voice asked. “Intruder? In Hogwarts? How did you get in ‘ere?”
I found myself staring directly into the wrinkled, leering face of a man who could be none other than Filch. Despite being older and in better shape, I felt myself cringing backwards from his oily appearance.
“I’m just ‘ere to fix a leaky faucet,” I gave it my best British accent, which was none too good, and I knew it. “Didn’t mean no ‘arm. That’s my badge, if you just hand it to me, I’ll show you that I’m perfectly in my right to be here.”
“A likely story,” Filch sneered. “I’m the only one who does any useful work around ‘ere. You’re a spy for Dumbledore, more likely. Boys, drag this intruder to the Headmistress’ office, won’t you please?” he bent down and picked up my precious badge. “And make sure she sees this, it appears to be some new form of magic.”
Two burly young men came up behind me and took me by the arms, dragging me down the hall towards the one character I had never wanted to meet.
Uh oh! Looks like Henry has gotten himself into trouble on this one! I wonder what will happen to him… and to the story? Will his advice to Harry change the outcome? What happens to a real person if they get killed in the FictionVerse? Find out next time on WRITING WRONGS…