By: Madalyn Baldanzi

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Fan Fiction: “Harry Potter And The Author Who Should Know When To Leave Well Enough Alone”

J.K. Rowling announced the release of the 8th Harry Potter book: Harry Potter and the Cursed Child. It ‘s a play that picks up right where we left Harry on platform 9 ‘ at the end of Deathly Hallows. Of course, fan speculation about the plot is already in full swing. Here is my fan fiction version of what I hope the book is about:

The last trace of steam evaporated in the autumn air. The train rounded a corner. Harry ‘s hand was still raised in farewell.

‘He ‘ll be alright,” murmured Ginny.

As Harry looked at her, he lowered his hand absentmindedly and touched the lightning scar on his forehead.

‘I know he will.” The scar had not pained Harry for nineteen years. All was well.

As Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Hermione walked away from the platform, Ron punched Harry ‘s arm, as if they were still seventeen.

‘D ‘you think they ‘ll get into the same hijinks that we did?!” Ron playfully asked. They slipped through the platform back into the muggle portion of the station, and Harry knew that they would not. Still, he was worried about his son, Albus. Though Voldemort was gone, there was still plenty of evil in the world, and Harry ‘s job at the ministry-

J.K. Rowling stopped typing. ‘Is this a good idea?” she wondered aloud to herself. ‘The last book ended really well, right? Like, I wrapped up all the threads in a satisfying way?” She sighed, and stared at the blinking cursor in Microsoft Word. Her agent told her she stood to make millions of dollars if she wrote an eighth book. But when you write the most popular series of all time, which is loved by almost everyone, should you write another book nine years later? ‘That didn ‘t go great for George Lucas,” sighed J.K. She began to type again.

And Harry ‘s job at the ministry was incredibly stressful. Without a villain like Voldemort to rally against, the wizarding world was more divided than ever. The current minister of magic-

J.K. stopped typing again. ‘Ugh, whoever ‘s name I put there just doesn ‘t feel right. I honestly think Harry ‘s future is best left to our imaginations.” Was it worth ruining the original seven books just to make a few million more dollars? Suddenly, J.K. heard a knock at the door.

‘Mom! Which driver is taking me to ballet?” her 11-year-old daughter Mackenzie asked.

‘I ‘m not sure. Mackenzie, while you ‘re here, can I ask you something?

‘Of course Mom!”

‘Do you think I should write an eighth Harry Potter book?”

Mackenzie sighed thoughtfully. After a long time lost in her thoughts, she responded, ‘No. As much as I ‘d love to know what happened to Hermione, I think knowing would only ruin it. Also, we already have a back yard full of hundred dollar bills- I don ‘t know where we ‘d put the extra money. The bank is already full.”

‘Sweetie, you ‘re wise beyond your years.”

‘Not really. I mean, it ‘s pretty obvious.” Mackenzie skipped away to figure out which of the family ‘s fleet of drivers would chauffeur her around for the afternoon.

J.K. knew what she had to do. She closed her laptop and bravely picked up her phone. She dialed her publisher. ‘Hi, Frank? Yeah, I ‘m not going to write the book.”

Her publisher, Frank, was a shrewd businessman. He was always looking for ways to make himself even richer.

‘J.K., what ‘re ya talkin ‘ about?!”

‘I just think that writing an eighth book will ruin the integrity of the first seven.”

There was a very long pause on the other end of the line.

‘You ‘re absolutely right. There ‘s no need to wring every last cent out of a tired franchise in an unartistic way. Let ‘s leave Harry Potter in the perfect shape that it ‘s currently in.”

‘Thanks Frank!” J.K. hung up the phone, and smiled to herself. She opened her laptop, and dragged the Word file she had been working on into the trash bin. She even right clicked on it and emptied it. That paper scrunching sound had never been more satisfying. Her hand absentmindedly reached out and touched the manuscript to Harry Potter and the Sorcerer ‘s Stone that she always kept by her side. All was well.

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