Adult Harry (who I’m not going to describe – use the MAGIC of your imagination) strode through the crowds of Platform nine and three quarters over to his bumbling sidekick, Adult Ron.
‘Bloody hell Daniel!’ , Adult Ron exclaimed, hyperactively
‘Ron, I wish you’d stop saying that every time we talk,’ Adult Harry replied, ‘And it’s Harry, not Daniel…So how’s Neville? I’m sorry I missed the wedding.’
Adult Ron shrugged, quizzically. Harry had been at the Japanese premiere of the fifth film when Ron and Neville announced their engagement. Everyone had been surprised, not least Hermione. ‘I suppose Dumbledore would have approved’, she had said, philosophically.
Harry would never forget Dumbledore’s last words to him, as he lay there prostrate, on top of that CGI astronomy tower. He still had the occasional flashback. It distracted the audience, whenever the dialogue got too slow.
‘Harry…, Dumbledore croaked, I’ve got something to tell you
‘I’m g…’he hesitated.
‘I’m g…oing to be played by Patrick Stewart in the last film.’
‘What’s that in your pocket Harry?’ Ron jerked him out of his reverie by gesturing to a long, thin wooden object sticking out of Harry’s trouser pocket, obscenely.
‘Is it a new wand?’
Harry pulled it out. It was a riding crop.
‘Bloody hell Harry! I didn’t know you had a horse!’ Said Ron, frenetically.
‘What’s so funny about me owning a horse?’ Harry retorted, defensively
‘Oh…er, nothing…’ Ron mumbled something about The Daily Prophet. Bitchily.
Harry coughed. The cough sounded strangely like ‘Thunderpants.’ Ron coughed in return. His sounded like ‘gorsemucker’…or something.
Adult Hermione came bounding up.
‘Bad luck about Cambridge Hermione,’ said Ron, Dick Dastardly.
‘But I got in.’ She replied.
‘Yeah but it’s still St Jo-hey, that hurt Harry!’
Harry elbowed him in the ribs. There was a silence.
‘Are you ok Harry?’ Hermione, peered at Harry, anxiously.
‘Yeah, it just…well…it still haunts me sometimes.’
‘You Know Who?’
‘No, Ginny running off with Alan Rickman like that. I mean, I have a sexy voice too…don’t I?’
‘I dunno mate, you are feeling a little horse.’ Said Ron, punningly
‘You mean, sounding a little hoarse, surely?’ Replied Hermione.
‘I know what I said Hermione,’ retorted Ron, gingerly.
‘Hi guys!’ It was Adult Neville.
‘How are the ‘plants’ Neville?’ Harry asked cryptically. Being professor of herbology at Hogwarts certainly had its advantages.
‘You, know, I’ve been thinking,’ said Neville, ignoring the none-too-subtle drug reference.
‘What have you been thinking Nev?’ Asked Ron, antidisestablishmentarianismly.
‘There should be a sequel to this one.’
‘What?’ Everyone looked puzzled.
‘As in book number eight.’
‘Have you been smoking mandrake leaves again Neville?’ Said an unspecified character.
‘It would be a psychological study of an angry young man. Now that You Know Who’s dead he’s lost his purpose in life. “Harry Potter and the Gritty Realism” it’d be called…’
‘Would there be a film?’ Asked Harry.
‘In that case, count me in.’
The assembled characters congratulated one another on their self-conscious fictionality.
‘Hey, does anyone hear a ticking sound?’