A Place Like Hogwarts

November 15, 2001 | New York City, USA

POV Oliver

„Olli, I'm sooo bored!" Jamie said as he dropped into the seat beside him. „And everything's so cramped in here. You can't even move properly!"

„Jamie, we practically have the whole plane to ourselves!" Oliver replied, staring at him in disbelief.

„Could you two be quiet? I'm trying to sleep!" Emma snapped at them.

„Oh, does the princess need her beauty sleep?" Jamie teased, nudging Oliver lightly with his elbow.

Oliver, however, looked at him in shock.

Oh, Jamie – that was a mistake.

„What did you just say?!" Emma shot upright. „Never call me princess again!"

Jamie blinked at her in confusion. „But Olli calls you that all the time."

Emma looked at Oliver.

„Hey, don't drag me into this." Oliver immediately raised both hands. „Besides, he's not wrong, Princess!"

„It's different when you say it," she muttered.

„Your Majesty," Peter said, then glanced briefly at Emma. „Your Highness. I've come to inform you that we'll be starting our descent shortly. So the beauty sleep will have to wait."

Jamie burst out laughing and clapped Oliver on the shoulder. „Your Majesty, I think I'll go sit with the other peasants again." Then he looked at Emma and grinned. „I'll leave the royals to themselves."

A little while later, the plane slowly began to lose altitude. Oliver glanced out of the window and could already make out the New York skyline in the distance.

The plane touched down not long afterwards, rolled across the tarmac and eventually came to a stop at a more secluded terminal area.

The moment the seatbelt sign went off, the cabin came to life. Warner staff stood up, bags were gathered, and Rachel appeared a few rows ahead.

„We're going out together," she explained. „No spontaneous stops and no interviews. The cars are already waiting."

Oliver looked at Peter. „Why does that sound like we're being evacuated?"

Peter didn't answer. Instead, he looked slightly tense.

The closer they got to the exit, the clearer the voices on the other side became.

A lot of voices.

The moment the doors opened, the noise hit them.

„OLIVER!"

„EMMA! OVER HERE!"

„HARRY! LOOK THIS WAY!"

„JAMIE! JAMIE!"

For a moment, Oliver simply stopped.

There weren't just a few photographers waiting outside the terminal. Camera crews crowded behind the barriers, reporters held microphones over the heads of their colleagues, and behind them stood fans holding books, handmade signs and pictures from the trailers.

The moment the first cameras spotted Oliver, the chaos truly began.

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„OLIVER, HOW DOES IT FEEL TO FINALLY BE IN AMERICA?"

„IS IT TRUE ROWLING PERSONALLY CHOSE YOU?"

„EMMA, ARE YOU AND OLIVER FRIENDS OFF CAMERA?"

„OLIVER! WHO ARE YOU DATING?"

Oliver turned his head so quickly towards the last voice that Peter nearly walked into him.

„What the hell?"

Emma beside him started laughing.

„Keep moving," Peter said, placing a hand between Oliver's shoulder blades.

„I'M ELEVEN!" Oliver shouted back at the reporter who had asked who he was dating.

Several reporters moved along the barrier with them while the photographers fired off shots almost without pause. One cameraman walked backwards in front of them until one of the security staff pushed him aside.

Jamie stared around with his mouth open. „Are all of these people here because of us?"

„No," Oliver replied dryly. „They're probably waiting for the next plane."

Directly ahead of them, a girl waved a sign above her head.

WELCOME TO AMERICA, HARRY!

Someone next to her held up another.

MARRY ME, OLIVER!

Oliver stopped again.

Peter immediately pushed him onwards. „No."

Behind them, Jamie started laughing so loudly that even Emma turned around.

Another microphone was thrust almost over the barrier.

„WHAT DO YOU THINK OF NEW YORK SO FAR?"

Oliver looked across the crowd, the cameras and the reporters practically shouting over one another just to get an answer.

„Loud!" he called back.

Back in England, he had thought he was slowly beginning to understand what it meant to become famous.

America had shown him within five minutes that he had no idea.

„Why is it so different here?" Emma asked.

„Lady Di," Rachel replied. „After her death, there was a much bigger debate in Britain about how far the press and paparazzi should be allowed to go. Since then, some boundaries have at least become clearer."

***

November 15, 2001 | London, England

POV Sophie

For a moment, Sophie didn't know where she was.

The ceiling above her was white. Not yellowish like the one at home, and there wasn't a stain on the wall beside the bed that looked like a dog.

Sophie pulled the blanket a little higher and listened. It was quiet. No music, no television running, and no one arguing.

Then she remembered. Mr Harris had brought her here last night. He had said she would be safe here. That Mr and Mrs Thompson would look after her until they found somewhere for her to stay.

Somewhere like Hogwarts.

That night, she had dreamed again that an owl would bring her a letter. That she could go to lessons with Harry, Ron and Hermione. Somewhere no one would shout at her just because she was breathing too loudly.

Somewhere she would never have to be alone again.

The door opened a crack, and an older woman carefully poked her head inside. "Good morning, Sophie," she said calmly. "Breakfast is ready, if you're hungry."

Mrs Thompson didn't wait for an answer. "We're downstairs in the kitchen. Just come down when you're ready," she said, then closed the door again.

Sophie stayed beneath the blanket for another moment before eventually getting up and going downstairs.

Mr Thompson was already sitting at the kitchen table reading the newspaper. A cup of tea stood in front of him while his wife was busy at the cooker. "Good morning," he said as Sophie entered.

"Morning," she replied quietly.

Mrs Thompson placed a plate on the table. "Toast, eggs, cornflakes. Just take whatever you fancy."

Sophie carefully sat down on the empty chair.

Mr Thompson turned another page. "Edith, we need milk later."

"I wrote it down this morning," she replied calmly.

Sophie looked between the two of them.

Mrs Thompson eventually placed a mug of hot chocolate in front of her. "Careful, it's hot." Then she went back to the cooker.

Mr Thompson turned another page and paused. "That boy from Harry Potter is in the paper again," he said, pushing his glasses a little higher.

Edith placed the teapot on the table. "The boy Michael once wanted to bring to us? Oliver Bennett?"

Sophie's head lifted almost without thinking.

"That's the one." Mr Thompson nodded and looked back down at the newspaper.

"Um, excuse me," Sophie said quietly, barely above a whisper. "What do you mean? Harry Potter was supposed to come here?"

Mrs Thompson looked at her in surprise. "Harry Potter – no, Oliver Bennett. When he was little, he needed somewhere safe too. Just like you did yesterday."

Sophie stared at Mrs Thompson for a moment, as though she hadn't quite understood what she had just said.

"Do you like Harry Potter?" Mr Thompson asked. "It says here the film opens in cinemas tomorrow. Would you like to—"

"Yes," she interrupted. Her voice was suddenly loud and clear.

For a brief moment, the room went quiet. Then Mr Thompson looked at his wife. Edith met his gaze, and both of them grinned.

Not at Sophie. More at the determination with which this little girl, who had barely spoken above a whisper until now, suddenly knew exactly what she wanted.

"All right," Edith said at last, setting down her cup. "Then I suppose one of us had better see if we can still get tickets."

Mr Thompson slowly folded the newspaper. "I'll take care of it."

For the first time in a long while, Sophie began to smile.

She would still be happy if an owl came for her. But if she was allowed to stay here, that would be good too. After all, Harry Potter had needed somewhere safe before he went to Hogwarts as well.