Chapter 67

"You have received but few hints of your past, and they have been so subtle that I doubt you picked up on them. Do you recall your first visit to Grimmauld Place, and what the portrait of Mrs. Black screamed at you?"

"Yes."

There was a long pause; Imogen by her silence passed a test.

"You really do take my instructions literally, don't you? How rare in a teenager. I give you permission to speak freely."

"My recollection of things not in 'the books' is very far from perfect, but I think she screamed something like, 'Filthy girl even less than a muggle-born mudblood! Not even born a witch!'"

"Excellent. And it must have made an impression on you, for you to have remembered it."

"Yes, it did, Witch of the -

"You may call me Ms. Rowling."

"Ms. Rowling. And what the painting said was a clue, but not much of one, at least not by itself."

"But the painting's comment was clear enough. You are not only Muggle-born, but a Muggle as well. Not even a squib."

"If what the painting said was true."

"The portrait of Mrs. Black does not lie, at least not from its perspective."

"Then I was born a Muggle," acknowledged Imogen. "May I ask the fundamental question? How do I come to be here, possessed of magical ability?"

"Yes, you may ask. And I'll even answer. But first, a cup of tea." Rowling snapped her fingers, and lifted a mug of the steaming brew to her lips.

"I must say that you are rather more likable than the detestable individual I met almost a year ago. Before I transformed you, you were a wretched amateur writer. Talented enough in your own profession, no doubt, but a great mischief maker when you accidently trespassed upon my world."

"Transformed? What was I, then?"

"An architect. But let me give you some background, without which you will understand nothing. You were born a Muggle, in a world inhabited entirely by Muggles. I, on the other hand, am a witch, and usually exist in a place where all of us are magical. We magical folk have been at war for a very long time, a war which, thanks to me (and to you, I add somewhat grudgingly) came to an end. We wizards fight our wars by proxy, by using our Muggle followers. They have no idea of our existence, nor do they know that we use them. This is a cruelty inflicted by my world on theirs, and I do not defend it; I am simply stating a fact.

"Some time ago, we wizards created a third world, an interface between the two realities of the Magical and Muggle worlds, and it is in this third world that you are now. It was thought that this third reality, where wizards and Muggles co-existed, was a more convenient and suitable place for the wizarding proxy battles to take place. Not by me, mind you. I was always against it. But orders or orders, and so I had to create it."
"You made this world?"

"Yes. It is my world, and you merely live in it."

Imogen kept her face a mask, willing herself not to smile.

"That was a joke. But it is also true. And it is also true that this world, once created, followed a path that I had not predicted. It took on a life of its own. They that in habit this world are not, as I had supposed, mere constructs. They exist in a reality every bit as genuine as mine or that of the Muggles. How this came to be, I cannot say. It is true that I can, if I wish, exercise control over this world. But my control of it is lessened considerably as a result of a fateful decision taken almost ten years ago.

"The war in the Wizarding world was not going well, at least not for our side. Our equivalent of 'Voldemort' was close to tipping things in his favour, and we were getting pretty desperate. Now one of the reasons, and perhaps the main reason, that we fight our wars with Muggle proxies is the power of Muggle belief systems. The faith of Muggles is their main asset, and we in the Wizarding world can derive great strength from the beliefs of united Muggles. And so some years ago, my superiors directed me to reveal to the Muggles this third reality, the world in which you now find yourself. The idea was that if this other world was presented in the form of a novel, or a series of novels, more Muggles could be encouraged to believe in the same things as some of us Wizards do, and we would be empowered as a result."

"The Books!"

"Correct. 'The Books'. And it worked. 'The Books', as you call them, were a huge success. The books have sold over four hundred million copies. And the movies reached that many and more. The momentum that I and my fellow wizards and witches gained as a result was enormous, and soon our millenium-long battle with the man whom for convenience sake I will refer to as 'Voldemort' was going very much our way. Until, that is, the internet came along.

"The internet created a new way for Muggles to interact with each other, to communicate new ideas even faster than we Magical folk can. Now are you familiar with the concept of 'fan fiction?'"

Imogen nodded.

"I should think so, given that you, in your previous existence, were the author of large amounts of fan fiction. And would you care to guess what was the topic you chose for your filthy scribbles?"

Imogen's mouth opened in horror.

"Not 'the books'. Oh please no not that!"

"Yes, 'the books'. My creation. Almost my child. Yes, that was the subject of your wretched pen. Had you kept your nonsense to yourself, no harm would have been done. But no, you had to publish on the web. You perverted my story, and set up what you wrote in competition with my own, a dirty, nasty alternate version of my tale. You developed a large, if underground, following. My fans believed in love. Yours believed in - well, I'm not sure what they believed in. But whatever it was, it was dark and nasty. Now who do you think this helped? My side, or Voldemort?"

Imogen's answer was to bury her face in her hands.

"A rhetorical question, of course. The damage you did was incredible. Your version of the story reflected into our world, and then back into yours, altering 'the books' in many important respects. In an effort to correct things, it was necessary that a new Gryffindor Girl be created and placed in the Harry Potter universe. The Ministry left it to my discretion to choose who would be used for the purpose, and I seized upon you. A natural enough decision, I'm sure you'll agree. At least you knew 'the books' inside out. All I needed to cram into your head was the knowledge of your mission, and the changes you had to cause in certain major (and minor) characters. It was trivial for a witch of my power to then cast you back into Hogwarts, to join Harry and his friends."

"But I arrived four years late!"

Rowling stared evenly at Imogen before replying.

"I suppose you do have the right to complain - a little - about that. I'd intended you to go back to first year, but nobody's perfect."

"But it was so difficult! The stress was incredible!"

"You must not speak to me about your teenage schoolgirl angst. Not if you want to remain in one piece."

"Sorry."

"And I will grant you that you achieved my purpose. But on the other hand, you destroyed my narrative, ruining a plot line to which I admit I was very attached. The most obvious act of destruction you perpetrated is that you finished off the Dark Lord in just five books. Five. You were aware, of course, that students attend Hogwarts for seven years, and not just five?"

"I am, but -"

"Seven years. But now the story is finished too soon. This is causing me terrible problems in the Muggle world, I'll have you know. I'd grown to like my publishers, and they'd planned on a seven-book series, with good reason, given that I'd signed a contract promising them exactly that. But it's only five now, and I've just been served with a writ as a result of your nonsense. The publishers are seeking "specific performance," asking a judge to force me to write two more books. As if a Muggle judge could make me do anything. How absurd. But still, it's very annoying. I hate the idea that my name would be associated with someone who breaks her promises. And yet that's exactly what I've done, thanks to you. The movies are in mid-production, everyone thinking it will be a seven-movie (or even eight, I was told) series, and that's impossible now, thanks to you."

"I'm sorry!"

"Stop apologizing; it's so tedious. Aside from the fact that the story is now two books short, there's other problems as well. And it's not like I didn't try to correct your mistakes while you were at Hogwarts. I came to you in your dreams, when you let me."

"Let you? I couldn't stop you if I wanted."

"But you did. You acquired first level-occlumency, more than sufficient to keep my efforts at bay. It was the rare occasion when I managed to intrude on your dreams, and even instead of correcting you, all I accomplished was to terrify you. And so you continued to blunder on, in contradiction of my wishes. For example: tell me - how does Bellatrix die in the seventh book?"

"She's killed by Mrs. Weasley."

"And do you know why this is?"

Imogen was compelled to admit that she'd never asked herself 'why' about Bellatrix's death, nor anything else in 'the books.' She'd simply taken it as a given.

"But 'the books' didn't just happen," replied Rowling. "They were written. They were planned. What happens in those books happens for a purpose. The books are an illustration of the power of a mother's love for her children. Harry survives, because his mother loved him totally and unequivocally. She sacrificed her own life that her son might live. And it is entirely fitting that in the seventh and final book, Mrs. Weasley in defence of her children slays Bellatrix. But that can't happen now, thanks to you."

"Yeah, ok," said Imogen, her indignation overcoming her fear, "but it's not like I gave her a break. I did slice her legs off, after all."

"Yes," said Rowling, a smile playing across her face, "and I suppose the fate Bellatrix suffered at your hands was not unfitting. Especially considering what happened later at St. Mungo's." At Imogen's request Rowling explained the medical treatment that Bellatrix had received at Neville's hands.

"And another unintended consequence of Neville's encounter with Bellatrix is that there is now at least some chance that his parents might be cured. Neville, having avenged his mother and father, has acquired powerful magic as a result, and it is possible that under the proper tutelage, he might be able to use this to overcome the insanity that Bellatrix inflicted on his parents. I am not sure, but it is at least possible.

"But regardless of that, and many other things, I have to consider what to do with you. Should I return you to your Muggle existence? Leave you here? Eliminate you? After all, your presence is unnatural." Rowling gazed at Imogen severely. But Imogen did not shrink.

"What do you expect me to do, beg and cringe? I'd rather die, and right now. Do what you please to me, but I'll not plead for my life. I am what I am."

Rowling look at Imogen with interest, and then said, "I should have expected you'd answer me thus. You are a Weasley after all, aren't you? Come closer."

Imogen pulled her stool near Mr. Weasley's favourite armchair where Rowling was seated.

"Hold still."

Imogen sat as if petrificused as Rowling extended a hand, grasped one of Imogen's blond hairs firmly, and pulled. Rowling examined it closely, then passed it to Imogen.

"Look at the root."

"It's red!" exclaimed Imogen.

"Indeed. And by tomorrow morning, all of your hair and not just the roots will be the brightest, most Weasley-like shade of red. You took to the adoption most readily."

"It's more than just a legal formality then? I suspected as much."

"The ceremony meant much more than just the signing of a solicitor's papers. The magic Dumbledore performed on you and your new family was ancient. The wizarding world is very old, and as far as we can tell, dates back to the earliest days of the Romans. And what was done to you today was a charm created by the ancient pureblood/patrician families, for use when they were unable to produce an heir. The adoption ceremony was created to deal with such cases, allowing the childless to pass on their qualities to a worthy candidate, and thus assure the continuance of their line. I've never heard of it being done by a couple like the Weasleys, who already have more than their share of children. But the charm took root in you, and you are Weasley to your very core. You would not have defied me, otherwise. Few would have the courage to do that. And as a result, I find my options are limited."