Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince

The days went by strangely slowly for Hermione...there was a lot that she had to get used to, of course. One thing was that she had been hearing a voice in her sleep, each night, singing. A voice that was strangely familiar and...very deep. The other thing that she now had to get used to was being the main character, which was a rather abrupt change, in her opinion.

The first change was, arguably, more relevant.

Night after night, the voice sang to her and sung to her and soon she was dreaming about that voice, and it was chasing her all over the castle, manifesting itself in the form of a chandelier, and sometimes breaking from song to shout: "I AM THE HALF-BLOOD PRINCE OF THE OOOOOOOPERA!"

And then, after what would have been considered countless nights if Hermione hadn't kept track, the voice manifested itself in a human form for the first time, and this was not in a dream at all, even though she was in bed at the time:

The man--he wore a mask, but she would have known it was Snape even if she didn't know it was Snape, which doesn't technically makes sense, but neither do a lot of things--took her by the hand and pulled her to a standing position, slowly and gracefully walking her to the dormitory door, to the staircase... The moment he had touched her hand, the music began, that same recognisable note that she had heard with Luna would-be-countless-days-ago...Hermione began to sing as they walked down the steps:

Snape sung now, as they crossed the common room and into the corridors.

"Sing once again with me
our strange duet ...
My power over you
grows stronger yet ...

They walked the corridors quickly, and it took a while for Hermione to realise where they were going... but then she recognised the room she had last seen when she first came to Hogwarts, seven years ago. They were under the school now, and the lake shimmered from the torches that hung on the walls.

Snape led Hermione to the lone boat that was docked here, and she sang as she sat inside it:

Hermione wondered why she had said that. It seemed an odd thing to say.

Snape didn't seem to think so, for some reason, and he continued:

Hermione was getting the hang of this, she reckoned. They both sang now:

"The Haaaaaalf-Blood Prince of the Opera is there....inside my mind."

"He's there...the Half-Blood Prince of the Opera..."

The boat entered a cavern now, one that Hermione had never seen before because she had never been there. It was large, and the lighting made the boat itself glow a greenish-yellow. In the centre of this cavern was a circular brick island, and on this island there was a strange basin, standing on a single, clawed leg.

Snape docked the boat, and the music died down as they climbed out of it, and onto the small island. Hermione had a million questions, but sadly many of them involved things entirely unrelated to the matter at hand, so she asked the one that was related:

"Why are we here, Professor?"

"Whispers, Miss Granger," said Snape, pulling out his wand and swirling round the basin. It contained a silvery liquid that Hermione would have instantly identified as thoughts if she had ever seen a Pensieve before, which she hadn't.

"Why?"

"Because it has a superior collection of stories," he said, and she was quite positive that she had to have imagined it. He helped her to that conclusion:

"Because we don't want it to hear us, and make us start again."

"It?"

"The music. The reason we're singing such nonsensical and noncanonical verses. The reason you sang of the 'flask I wear' when I have never once worn a flask."

"Oh," said Hermione, and everything made sense now...except for everything else. "But why are we here?"

He seemed hesitant, and gazed into the basin for a moment.

"There is another thing that the music is being less than truthful about," he said. "I am not the Half-Blood Prince of the Opera."

Hermione's eyes widened in shock.

"Then who is?"

"No one, you idiot girl," he hissed. "I am the Half-Blood Prince, but without all this opera nonsense. The music is self-glorifying, you see, and it wants desperately to be part of the plot..."

"Oh, indubitably," said Hermione, nodding. But then she was confused, and gave that confusion a voice:

"But why are we here?"

Snape continued to look into the basin. "We are here, Miss Granger, because--oh, darn it all."

A soft tone floated up through the air of the underground cave, and it wove its way into the pair's brain (and, more importantly, vocal chords). Against all will, Snape began to sing once again.

The music settled into silence, and both Hermione and Snape had a new look in their eyes...

"That's it!" Hermione said. "That's what the music is trying to do! It's not just self-glorification after all! It wants us to unite against the smut-fic writers!"

"In case you hadn't noticed," said Snape bitterly, "we can't do that very well, as we are merely characters in a story. For all we know, this could be a smut-fic."

Both of them looked away from each other suddenly, as though making sure no one was behind them.

"Thankfully," said Hermione, turning back to Snape, "I don't think it is. If it were, somebody would have mentioned your silky voice already." And then she threw her hands over her mouth, eyes widened in fear.

"Yet another reason to be quiet, then," said Snape, and he looked uneasily over his shoulder once again.

"Now...the reason we are here is a very simple one. Look here."

And then he gestured to the basin, which was now bubbling and frothing like a strawberry smoothie-maker, except it wasn't very strawberry-looking. Hermione gazed into its depths.

There was a book there, but...not so much a book as the cover of a book, as though it were taken off the actual book and spread flat.

"But the flaps are blank--" was the first think that came to Hermione's mind, wondering what the book was about.

"The flaps are not important now, Miss Granger," said Snape. "Look at the pictures."

Hermione did. "That's...that's Harry and Dumbledore," said Hermione, rather perplexed. "But what's that fire around them?"

Snape said nothing. He just motioned for her to continue looking.

"And that's...that's this place," she said, looking at the left-side of the image and gasping. "That's even our boat! But...where are we?"

"This is a fanfiction, Miss Granger. That image is not. Look at the title."

Hermione did. "Harry Potter and the...Half-Blood Prince?"

"Yes," said Snape, nodding.

"You mean, this book thing is about you and Harry?"

"Yes," said Snape, nodding once more.

And Hermione looked from the image in the basin to Snape and back again. She couldn't help asking:

"It's not a smut-fic, is it?"

"NO!" said Snape harshly. "You idiot girl! This is not a fanfiction, I already told you. This is the real book. Book six."

"But I thought the story we're in was called 'Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince,'" said Hermione then, remembering where she had heard that before.

"Yes, exactly; it was," said Snape. "It used to be called that, but now it's 'Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Fanfic,' to avoid confusion and infringement."

"Oh," said Hermione. "So what exactly are we supposed to do, again?"

"This book will end it all," said Snape. "All the rumours. All the speculation. All the singing--"

"But I thought there were supposed to be seven--"

"Yes, but what do you think the rumours, speculation, and singing are all about? They're all about the Half-Blood Prince aren't they? Everyone doesn't know it is me, Granger, though I suspect you're glad you do, as it is just another bit of information to hold over everyone else's heads....

"So when this book is released, in just about two days' time, the world will be right again. The thing is, Miss Granger, I do not wish to wait that long. I want it now."

Hermione shivered then, and Snape quirked an eyebrow. "Oh, it's just...bad memories. See chapter five."

"No thanks," said Snape. He turned back to the book. "What we must do is speed up the release of this book. We need it released tonight, at midnight, so that everyone can just settle with each other that of course I'm the Half-Blood Prince, of course Black is a vampire, of course you and Weasley will survive, of course Potter will fall in love with the Weasley girl--"

"You sound bitter about that," teased Hermione, smirking. "Are you sure this isn't a smut-fic? Is it at least slash?"

"You know, I can't do this without you, Miss Granger, and it would be so unfortunate if you were...suddenly incapable of assisting me...." Snape snarled.

"All right then," said Hermione, getting down to business. "We need to figure out how to speed up the release of this book, and we need to try to stop the smut-fics in the meantime...that's quite a load for a few hours."

"You'd better be up to the task," said Snape, and then he swirled his wand round into the basin, making the image disappear. "Come. We must return. That fool who runs this castle will be missing you."

Hermione's first instinct was to go to the library and research time-travel spells, time-quickening spells, and time-slowing spells (just for the fun of it). She did, in fact, do this, but Snape didn't let her alone nearly enough to be able to absorb the information. And so, they went with his plan instead.

"Are you entirely sure this is safe?" said Hermione, nearly falling backwards off the Thestral. "I mean, I've done it before, but never with another person on..."

"It will be entirely safer," said Snape, turning back with a snarl, "if you would shut up so that I don't have to turn backwards. And please do not hold me that tightly. I thought you were against smut-fics."

Hermione blushed and loosened her grip a bit, and for the second time wished desperately that she could have seen, say, Umbridge die, or a Malfoy, so that she could see the bloody beast she was seated on, yet not have to suffer the hardships of loss...

"Tell me again where we're going?"

"Edinburgh," said Snape, and Hermione tried, tried, tried to breathe easier but simply couldn't...so, to pass the time, she attempted to think of a nice, acronymic name for her anti-smut society. She didn't think that would work too well.

"How about the Society for Nutters Obsessed with G-ratings?" she suggested. "But no...that sort of makes us out to be nutters, doesn't it...?"

"Society for the Purification of Indecent Fan Fiction?"

"No."

"Society for the Narrators' Actions to be Persecuted Effectively?"

"Please no..."

"We're here," said Snape thankfully. "Finally." They stepped off the Thestral and found themselves in front of a rather large home. Hermione wondered who lived there.

"Who lives there?"

"Shh."

Snape marched purposefully up to the door, made a fist, and knocked three times, hard, with his knuckles.

A few moments later, he tried again, and the door was opened. A girl, younger than Hermione, (she looked almost twelve) stood in the doorway, and blinked at them several times.

"Yes?" she said.

"Hello. You must be Jessica. My name is Professor Severus Snape," said Professor Severus Snape, "and this is Hermione Granger. You probably don't know us, but--"

"Mum! It's the crazy people again!" said the girl, (Jessica, apparently, if Snape was correct) and she slammed the door in their face. Hermione could hear her footsteps leading away from the door. She turned to Snape.

"Jessica?"

"Quiet," said Snape, and he pressed his ear to the door. "Someone's coming."

They heard a muffled voice: "Jessica, how many times have I told you not to answer the door to strangers?"

"Well," said Jessica's voice, "I couldn't tell if they were strangers unless I opened the door, could I?"

"That's what the peephole's for--"

"I'm not tall enough for the peephole, Mum," said the girl. "And besides, they didn't look dangerous, just crazy."

Hermione saw a sudden bit of light from a circular opening in the door, and then it was replaced with an eyeball. Snape hadn't noticed, for he was still listening intently at the door. The eye blinked several times, and Hermione smiled half-heartedly when she felt the odd feeling of being stared at.

"Jessica, please get a pillow. Mummy might fall over."

The sound of footsteps told them that the girl took that quite seriously, and then the door opened.

A woman stood there, now, Jessica's mother, the voice they had heard, they eye in the peephole. Hermione felt she looked very familiar, like someone she had known when she was a small child, a long-lost relative perhaps. She had blonde hair and very, very wide eyes that would recall Luna Lovegood on a non-surprising day.

"Who are you?" said the woman.

"My name is Professor Severus Snape," said Professor Severus Snape once again, "and this is Hermione Granger."

The woman nodded, and just her daughter arrived with a very large, very soft pillow, she said: "That's what I thought," and fainted dead away.

Jo Rowling was, normally, a very difficult person to surprise. For instance, in countless internet webchats she had been perfectly capable of coming up with an answer for every question, that not only didn't give anything away but also did not take three years to write.

However, she was surprised, very much indeed, to see two characters from her very own mind show up on her doorstep and introduce themselves like... like Hoover salesmen.

When Jo came to, she was still rather woozy and it did not help her one bit to see Severus Snape and Hermione Granger--two of her favourite characters--standing over her worriedly.

"You look just like I'd imagined..."

"Shouldn't we?" said Snape, and Hermione seemed nearly as lost as Jo herself was...but probably not really even close. After all, one could prepare to meet one's maker--people did it all the time--but could the maker prepare to meet figments of her own imagination?

"We need your help," said Hermione, who did, at least, seem to be catching on.

"Where's Malfoy?" asked Jessica then, looking curiously out onto the doorstep. "Didn't you bring him along?"

Jo blinked several times, and then stood very hesitantly--once she was mostly certain that she wasn't going to fall over again, she looked feebly at her guests. "Would you like some tea?"

"Sure," said Hermione.

Jo led them through the house to the living-room, which was rather larger than the front hallway and would have been much more comfortable to fall over in. On the way, they passed a rather lonely-looking door with a do-not-disturb sign hanging on the knob. Hermione pointed it out: "Not to be rude, but what's in there?"

"Oh...nothing. Nothing at all. I don't want anyone to... to disturb the carpet in there. That's it."

Jo scolded herself; usually, she was a very good liar, or at least very good at avoiding telling the truth, but today she was rather out-of-sorts.

They sat down and Jo made tea and she brought out the tea and she sat down. "I didn't think I needed to ask what kind you'd like..." she said, but still was a bit worried as she handed the black mug to Snape. He didn't seem to mind. In fact, he seemed...almost out-of-character. She shivered at the thought.

"You said you needed my help," said Jo.

"Yes," said Snape. "You see, there is a bit of a problem at Hogwarts--"

"Hogwarts?" said Jo. "OK, sorry, but... how exactly are you real?"

"We're not," said Snape, "we are in a fanfiction, as are you." And this explained everything.

"That explains everything," said Jo, nodding. Then she grimaced. "This isn't a smut-fic, is it? Those are so disgusting, I wish that they would just stop--"

"So do we!" said Hermione, suddenly excited. "Would you like to join our anti-smut society? Oh, don't worry, we're not calling it that."

"I'd love to," said Jo, and Hermione seemed very satisfied with herself. "The problem you mentioned...?"

"The speculations are nearly destroying the place," said Snape. "All the out-of-character-ness is killing me. For instance, would I ever really say 'out-of-character-ness'?"

"No," said Jo decisively. "Definitely not."

"And with so many people running around making trouble," continued Snape, "like super!Harry and cruel!Harry and evil!Harry and romantic!Harry and muscled!Harry, it's really hard to keep track of things, especially detentions."

"So what am I supposed to do about it? I only created it all, it's all the fans that have created those things--"

"Yes, but you can cease them, at least temporarily," said Hermione.

"How?"

"By releasing the sixth book and getting everyone away from the internet. It would give us the time we need to rebuild."

"But the book is coming out in eleven--"

"That's not soon enough," said Snape. "It needs to be tonight. The in-characters are weakening. We may not last until the sixteenth. And anyway, I'm a very impatient person, no thanks to you."

"But what am I supposed to do about it?"

"Push up the release."

"I can't do that!"

"Then leak the book."

"My publishers would kill me!"

Snape was about to come up with another suggestion, but Hermione butted in: "No, they wouldn't."

Both the others turned to her. "They wouldn't?" said Jo.

"No," Hermione said. "Because you haven't written book seven yet, and that's sure to break all sorts of book-selling records, making those companies a mint. They would never kill their cash cow, that would just be stupid."

These words rang in the silence for a minute, and before long Jo's face had taken on an odd sort of confidence, an odd sort of composure. Her lip became a straight line and her eyes focused.

"All right," she said. "I'll do it."

And then, going up to her computer, she sent a copy of the Half-Blood Prince manuscript to a single, obscure person in Norway. From there, the book went from computer to computer in milliseconds, even less, perhaps, and within the hour, ten-point-eight million people had gotten their hands on the Half-Blood Prince. Snape wished they wouldn't hold on so hard, though.

Their job complete, and everything right with the world, Snape and Hermione got back on their Thestral and began the long flight back to Hogwarts. Snape very nearly laughed as soon as they were a sufficient distance away from the house.

"Excellent use of Legilimency, Miss Granger," he said, smirking.

"I know, wasn't it?" said Hermione. And then she was silent for a minute. "I'd better start working on some badges once we get back..."