Gone Senile: An Interview With a Fan-Fiction Author

Disclaimer: HP is JK's. I'm only going to make fun of my own writing and use her characters to do it...

A/N: This is an experimental oneshot of a kind that I know none of you have read before…a quasi-fictional/real account of the stories...quite the odd piece.

Gone Senile: An Interview with a Fan-fiction Author

I sat down on the armchair, expecting my fictional guests to arrive. Contemplating my own thoughts during the last hour, I found there was something rather interesting, even magical if you will, about talking with your characters.

I'm sure they would have objections, only it would be inconvenient to mention them in the middle of a fight, an intense personal moment, or an instance of downtime, when the author would be the least probable individual to interfere. Even during Lestrange's madness - that would be out of the question, and the author would be forced to question his own sanity as a result...

Inspired from another story, I had considered adopting an alias, so as to keep my characters from finding my identity, even when I was entertaining them in person. The character in question was a self-styled Baron*, cunning, smooth and mysterious, but then it struck me as dubious how appreciative said characters would be of my efforts to give them flesh and personality...

So I sat, meandering through such thoughts and reflections, when the doorbell rang at last. Rising from my comfortable seat, I went to answer it and expectedly, Harry was on cue the first to arrive. Behind him were Ron and Hermione. Yes, the core trio was punctual as always - they had formed the backbone of many of the plots my mind had conceived...

“Come on in,” I invited them graciously through my threshold. “Make yourselves at home.”

The cordial pleasantries were exchanged, and then I caught Ron mouthing to Harry in an undertone his confusion of the occasion.

“Interview with the author?”

“Never been to one of these either, mate,” he only shrugged his shoulders. This was certainly going to be interesting.

Hermione gave me a warm smile, bless her good nature. Harry and Ron only both eyed me with outright suspiciousness - for the first time, I reconsidered what I was going to tell them…

“Come on in.”

Being a good host, I offered the way into the spacious living room.

The trio had barely entered, when the door rang again. This time, the Marauders had made an appearance, all aged and wiser now, along with Lily - she was the unofficial fourth member.

I admitted them, the cordial greetings were exchanged, and I sent them in, choosing to stay by the door so as to be there the more interesting members of tonight's occasion to show…

In truth, I was expecting the less reputable company of Bellatrix Lestrange, Antonin Dolohov, Jonathan Avery, Theodore Nott, Demetris Snape and among others of questionable morals, my old friend Olliviander.

I would have invited Voldemort to share his insight with all of us, but unfortunately, he had already passed on, perhaps for the best.

Not a moment after the thought crossed my mind, the aforementioned dodgy company indeed arrived. Slightly condescending in their greeting, I accepted them anyway, and showed them the way.

So I waited until the Weasleys showed up with the Delacour family, and soon enough they made their appearance. The hum of idle talk already came from the living room, but expectedly, not a word came from the Death Eaters.

At the last the redheaded colony showed, along with the stuffy French couple. Excited as always, Ginny even gave me a hug as she walked in. The Delacours nodded firmly, and proceeded inside of their own accord.

So, the general company was just about complete…only Nymphadora Tonks had to arrive, and with her, Andrea…I thought they would be late.

That notion was dispelled almost at once. The doorbell rang for the fourth time, and opening the door hastily, the last two guests of the evening stood on the threshold.

“Welcome,” I said.

Returning the smile, they walked in, and I promptly showed them to the congregation area.

With that, I was the last to walk in the living room, and stood in the middle of the room to address my guests. The Death Eaters were all sitting on one side, and the rest of the so-called `good guys' on the other.

“Welcome, all,” I bid the official greeting to the assembled company. “Tonight's affair will be just an informal setting, where you ask questions, and I answer them. Why did I write you the way I did? This is the essence of this occasion. You know the situations, and you can ask anything as a result.”

Several suspicious glances passed between my characters. Evidently, they were not accustomed to such a setting.

“So what you're saying,” Harry was the first to question me “is that we can ask you anything related to the way you've written us?”

“Of course,” I shook my head.

“Including all the embarrassing things you made Hermione and I do?” There was a hint of anger in his voice.

I had to admit, that was not going to be a pleasant part of the exchange. “Yes.”

He gave me a hard look. I suppose I was to pay for all the frivolities with my quill…Harry had been part of virtually almost every story of mine, and I expected the most criticism from him.

“Shall we begin?” I asked, prompting each guest to help him or herself to a drink beforehand.

“I think so,” Draco opened the discussions sarcastically. “I read that Shakespearean story of yours…what was it called?”

“Intense,” I nodded solemnly. Preferably, I did not want it mentioned.

“Right,” he continued. “Well, it's bollocks. Why did you even write it?”

“Infatuation will affect you in strange ways,” I told him with a smile. “A particular love interest at the time prompted me to do it.“

“You've lost your mind,” the youngest Malfoy continued his jabs.

“At the time I did,” I conceded the point. “Anything else you want to add?”

“Yes,” he said. “You suck.”

“Thank you for the inspiration,” I rejoined without a hint of insult.

“Was that supposed to be Hermione and I?” Harry piped up. “When were we ever in English class?”

“You weren't,” I noted, “but I was. Did I mention your names in there?”

“No,” Harry answered. “But that's besides the point.”

“Well?”

“You still had us in mind.”

“Oh, be serious now,” I told him. “Any couple could serve in the story. That's why I wrote it the way I did. Could have been Draco and Ginny for all you know.”

The redhead looked uncomfortably at me, then at the cocky Malfoy, and finally blushed a deep scarlet. Had I hit a nerve?

Even so, I kept my silence.

“Any other questions?”

“The story still isn't great,” Hermione stated.

“I know, it was my introduction to all of you,” I rejoined patiently.

“Earlier you promised to tell me about everything you put Hermione and I through. We ought to sue you for invasion of privacy!”

Harry was certainly not calm. “You have that in the wizarding world?”

“Introduced as of two years and three months ago,” Hermione informed me. Bless her, sometimes she really did miss the situation…

“Did you do anything I wrote you as doing?” I asked Harry.

His jaw was set. “Yes.”

“Oh, Harry, relax,” Hermione laughed. “You know, when we read If Only…that was Harry's first time. He took inspiration and we did it in the trophy room!”

“Hermione!” he hissed.

With delight I noticed the easily intimidated know-it-all was gone, to be replaced by one confident young woman…

“Why did you send me to my death after that!” Harry opted for a change in the topic.

“It was a tragic story,” I defended myself. “What else did you expect me to do?”

“How about let me live! I'm too young to die. Even then!”

“Later on you do discover a resurrection spell,” I tried to defend myself.

“That's different altogether,” he protested. “The point is, I died!”

“And where was I?” Ron complained.

“Were you interested in a threesome?” I asked him neutrally.

“No!” his face matched the colour of his hair.

“You wanted Hermione?”

“Will you stop with the questions!” he demanded.

“Fine, I will.”

Hermione took the word again. “Forgive them, they just never are open about these things…there is nothing wrong with sex!”

“Yes, quite,” I agreed. “And you two enjoyed it, no?”

“As far as inspiration went,” she smiled, grabbing Harry's arm.

If looks could kill, I would be a dead man now. Embarrassment was indeed powerful…

“I bloody froze to death,” Harry muttered. “I'm not going to be your friend anymore.”

“Hey, it was winter,” I said “…what do you expect me to do, again?”

“Fuck you,” he said.

“I'll take Hermione, but not you, thanks,” I returned his insult with one of my own.

His expression only darkened.

“Well then, shall we move on?” I asked.

“Good idea,” Ron said. He did not sound too happy either.

“What's next…ah yes, Full Circle,” I said, consulting my list.

“Now that was a naïve piece of work,” Ron said what he thought outright.

“I agree,” Luna smiled. “Ronald and I?”

“I'd never behave the way you put me in there,” the redhead said.

“But would you be with Luna?” I asked him conversationally.

“Yes.”

I knew he slipped, and he realized it too a second later. Furious at me, looking apologetically at the mesmerizing blonde…I enjoyed myself.

“Kids are none of your business,” he pointed a finger at me.

“Hey, am I right you want a family?”

I did not receive a reply.

“And once again, I'm dead,” Harry pointed out bitterly. “What kind of a masochist are you?”

“The non-intentional kind,” I reassured him, “You're still dead from the last story. This time I brought you back to life.”

“And made Hermione a shell of herself,” he criticized me further. “What kind of an author are you!”

“So far a masochist one, it seems,” I considered the description of the story. “Look, aren't you happy you're alive and around, rather than gathering dust in a grave somewhere?”

That effectively shut him up.

“How did I find those spells?” Ginny asked me. “You never said how I came across the spell to bring Harry back. I'm not sure it even exists.”

“You dealt with the Order of Merlin. Only, I wanted to reveal its existence later on, you see.”

“Oh,” her lips formed the universal sign of wonderment.

“Yes,” I affirmed.

“How?”

“Simple,” I replied. “Evans had arranged for you to find those spells.”

“Is that so? And why exactly did you assume I could do what I did?” she continued her interrogation.

I smiled. “I was right, was I not?”

“I do like being powerful,” Ginny smiled at me widely in return.

“Why are you always making me the one that suffers?” Hermione was the next to fire off a question.

This time I chose my words. Powder-keg Hermione was dangerous when matches were around. “You, Hermione, are the deepest character I write, maybe aside from Harry. In other words, my efforts when it comes to you are extra special, because I want to capture the emotional depth of your character.”

“Are you calling me stupid?” Ron's face tinged red.

“Yeah, now you're even making more emotionally dead than Hermione in that story,” Harry supported his best friend. “What is it with your unhealthy obsession with my death!”

“I kill you for my entertainment, Harry,” I said. “You are my best guinea pig. Through you, I find new ways of expressing my writing.”

“That doesn't answer my question,” the redhead's voice was still stern.

“No, Ron,” I turned to him patiently. “Of course you aren't stupid. If that were the case, I would probably put you in the mental wing of St. Mungo's Hospital and you would be the object of significant humour.”

“You are one insensitive git, you know,” he muttered. “I am not crazy.”

“He's still in denial,” Ginny mouthed at me, before snickering under her breath. I nodded knowingly... and on a second thought, this girl wasn't half bad...

“I believe you, Ron, don't worry,” I allayed the redhead's fears, as any good author would do for his character. Not to say he was my character...but for the purposes, he was under my jurisdiction.

“So you thought you would end with that story?” Lestrange's voice came from one of the chairs in the rear.

Even in this setting, I disliked her voice. “Which one?”

“Full Circle,” she rejoined with a grotesque smile. “You don't want to embellish me in the continuation you wrote?”

“Didn't you die in it?” I thought hard to remind myself...even if it was the last time I wrote anything.

“You know you want to bring me back.”

I don't know if she was trying to be seductive, but it internally made me recoil...I cringed involuntarily. “I don't think so.”

“Without me your story would have been garbage!” the mad cow was scandalized. “Imagine if I had brought Voldemort back! You wouldn't have sucked so much!”

I smiled. “Who else thinks I suck?”

To my dismay, a few hands did go up - unsurprisingly, Harry's was one of them.

“Alright,” I conceded, “I wasn't being nice to all of you. Is that a reason to hate me?”

“Yes,” good ol' Bella piped up from the back. “I still think this story was rubbish.”

“Guess what?” Harry took up the note on Bella's voice.

“You loved it,” I ventured to try.

“Nope,” he was not in the least bit amused. “Yet again, I die!”

“Yes,” I agreed, “but this time with a purpose. And I bring you back. All the while satisfying my unhealthy obsessions.”

“Did you really have to kill me?”

“Yes, it was the symbolism I was going after. See, it makes a better impression if you go convince your parents to come back from the dead, not Ron or Hermione. Or, would you have rather had that?”

Again, If looks could kill, I would be a dead man now. Fortunately for me, Harry knew I was right in my conviction...

“Why did you have Avery and Nott betray me? Along with Demetris?” Bellatrix spoke up yet again.

“Call it intrigue,” I said, “for I choose to subscribe that people can change when given the chance. Demetris held the appearance of loyalty beautifully. Avery and Nott manoeuvred as much as they could, but their ability is limited. Once they came under Demetris, were they able to guarantee their safety within the Order at least to a limited degree.”

“I don't think you like me very much,” Lestrange said suspiciously.

“I never hid that I didn't,” I told her. “I think your death at the end of the sequel could not be more pathetic.”

“I am not a raving lunatic,” her mouth foamed slightly as she said this.

“Argue with Ron over that,” I dismissed her. “You two can work out who's gone off the deeper end...”

Andrea made a motion to attract my attention, and I turned my eyes to her. “You are an embarrassment to writers everywhere.”

“Why?” my curiosity was piqued.

“I am Andrea, not Andromeda,” she was vehement. “Way to screw up in the epilogue!”

“Look, I'm sorry,” I backpedalled my apology. “It was a contest to choose your name!”

“Oh, and since when do you say what my name is?” she huffed at me.

“Since I incarnated you as a character!”

“Are you my mother?” she countered.

“No, but I can give you one if you want,” I offered.

“Oh, be quiet!” she raised her voice. “Why did you mess up my name!”

I took a deep breath and shifted in my chair. “I was intending to call you Andromeda at first...but then I switched to Andrea, because it didn't feel as overused. I suppose I just slipped up in the end.”

“Well, good job,” she threw up her arms. “You embarrass yourself, and not to mention me. Didn't you ever consider my feelings, you selfish prat?”

Sirius arm was snaked around Andrea's waist, and my eyes flickered to him. He was enjoying this immensely...

“You're pouring a lot of anger into nothing,” I told the indignant girl. “Go get frisky with Sirius and make that energy useful for something.”

The smile on his face only brightened. He looked up at Andrea. “Well?”

She flushed a brilliant scarlet, threw me one last furious gaze, and shrank back into her cushions.

“I have a question,” Bill Weasley spoke up.

“At last,” I smiled. “Fire away.”

“You mentioned that Fleur and I would have a better role within the Order in that sequel of yours. We showed up all but once.”

This time he had raised a good point - I was indeed planning on incorporating him more thoroughly, something Rowling had never done for the elder Weasley brothers, and I unwillingly followed in her footsteps...

“Well,” I tried to explain myself, “you and Fleur are an example of happiness I didn't want to spoil...you see, a lot of people died and came back in Full Circle...it became more complicated with more characters, and I just thought it might be fitting if you two were living your life away from it all.”

“Bullshit,” Ron muttered.

“I break curses for a living,” Bill pointed out. “I don't think I would have been that badly impacted if I was incorporated in the story.”

“Yes,” I nodded, “but think of Fleur. And the little ones?”

His expression changed for a moment. Indeed, there were two little children in his care. “Yeah, I see where you're coming from. I'm sure you would have done the same.”

“If I had a significant other, yes, I would,” I agreed.

“And what iz uup with our Fleur, not being mentioneeed in your storiee? Do tell, s'il vous plait?” Fleur's mother asked. The immensely beautiful girl, to whose charms I would be a fool to deny being immune, looked at me imploringly.

“As I said earlier, it was their happiness I had in mind which prevented me from including them deeper in the plot.”

“You theenk I am worthless?” Fleur whispered.

I was shocked at the proposition - no such thought had even crossed my mind. “What?” I was caught unawares.

“Answer me.”

“No, of course not! Why would I think that!” I was appalled. “I couldn't stand to see you hurt. Just ask Bill.”

She turned her head towards him. “It's true, darling.”

“See?” I stated the obvious.

Thankfully, she saw the light of reason, and calmed down...for now.

“Enough of this emotional non-sense,” Demetris made his presence known. “What about the aspects of Full Circle that were good - my role, perhaps?”

“Well, someone's full of himself,” another voice commented scathingly - it may have been Draco, and I was almost certain it was.

“Oh come on,” Demetris said impatiently. “The plot was amazing! He knew all along I was the agent to catalyze the success of the Order.”

“That you were,” I answered. “But it was through Harry and company that the actual work was done.”

“Details,” he dismissed me.

“Details?” I was mildly surprised. “I thought it was at least a bit important.”

“A bit?” Harry was incredulous. “That is not true! We died and came back for you!”

“I realize that,” I placated him. “I'm only trying to convince Demetris here of the significance of it all.”

“But I will hand it to you, you did write an amazing plot,” the old man complimented me. “Genius, having the entire Order of Merlin orchestrate everything they did.”

“And then they died in the process,” Avery piped up, excited. “That Order melted into the Order of the Phoenix right under Lestrange's nose.”

“You are a traitor,” Bellatrix sneered beside him. “Don't make me Crucio you.”

“There will be no spellfire in my house!” I put my foot down. “Don't make me write your death again.”

Lestrange clenched her jaw, but she understood it was the pen, or rather the keyboard, which held the true power...

“But I must admit, she did come tantalizingly close,” I continued on with the discussion. “The murder at a distance plan with Dolohov...that was a stroke of brilliance.”

The Death Eater in question grimaced. “Well, of course. Bella and I were Voldemort's best.”

“I have a question for you, Antonin,” Nott suddenly said.

“What is it, vermin?”

His voice was cold and dismissive, but Theodore was not in the least phased, after his experiences with the Order. “Why didn't you kill Lestrange and take her spot? You could have succeeded.”

The question certainly caught him off guard. “It's a question of loyalty and honour. You'll never understand that.”

“On the contrary, Antonin,” I intervened. “You have killed many an innocent man, woman and child. Loyalty and honour are the last virtues you should talk about.”

“That's right,” Nott agreed. “Now answer my question.”

Something Dolohov hated was to find himself cornered, and in this case, he was...

“Lestrange is the more powerful Legilimens between us. I could never completely block her out. Any designs on my part would have been found out, and thus I would have paid with my life. Smartly, I chose to lay low and bide my time.”

“What about an all-out duel?” Nott continued on.

“And risk the entire Death Eater operation? We could have mutually destroyed ourselves.”

“Smart indeed,” I remarked. “Didn't give you enough credit for your cunning.”

“I already expected that,” he said dryly.

“Now wait one minute here!” Lestrange intervened. “You were plotting my death, Antonin!”

“Who wasn't?” the other Death Eater smile his ugly grimace. “You have to admit, nobody appreciates slave drivers. You-Know-Who - now he had style.”

Lestrange's face turned crimson with anger. “Slave driver, am I?”

Not in the least intimidated, Dolohov nodded affirmatively and Bellatrix, at a loss of what to say, simply simmered quietly in her rage.

“Are we done with the pointless soap operas of the Dark Side?” I ventured to inquire. “Perhaps you can settle your differences after this meeting.”

“There will be settling, for sure,” Lestrange leered at Dolohov; he simply rolled his eyes.

“Anyway,” I said, “I wanted to raise one last point before ending this affair today. Each of you has contributed to making my stories what they are. The good has to be balanced by the bad, but it is my belief good always comes out on top, but the bad will always give it a good workout...and you know it has.”

“The sentimentality is killing me,” Draco muttered in a stage whisper, and a few laughs resounded around the room.

“It won't kill you to have a heart, you know,” I told him in return. “So, in the future I will continue writing, and all of you will continue to be present...and perhaps, even a sense of the next generation, if I ever get around to continuing Second Strike.”

“Second Strike?” Hermione asked. “That story has been in the freezer since...ever!”

“Oh, I'm aware,” I said. “Between the other engagements, I wanted to write this story as a break, you know?”

“I see,” she nodded. “Well, do put some effort in it soon. I want to know what happens.”

“You may end up living it,” I winked at her mysteriously.

“Are you flirting with my wife!” Harry snapped.

“Hey, it's my fantasy as much as yours,” I told him. “You know, I could write your divorce, and replace you with me...”

“You wouldn't!” he looked horrified.

“Wanna bet? I'm an author with no morals, after all.”

Now I knew he really did not like me. Maybe I'd receive a verbal lashing after he and Hermione left my house. I wish I cared....

“Any other questions before I close this off?”

A general murmur went throughout the assembled crowd, but nobody ventured to comment.

“Alright then,” I said. “Thank you all for coming, it has been a pleasure.”

**

That night, I reflected back on what we had exchanged. Overall, I made my mistakes, had my moments of brilliance, and ultimately, I'm not among the greatest authors out there. However, I'm happy with what I do, whether my characters liked it or not...that's what matters.

Fin.

A/N: And that's the end of it...weird story, I know.

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