HARRY POTTER

and the

Evil Book Ban

(Book 4 and3/4)

All characters belong to JKR except Sweater Man and the Librarian. JKR belongs to JKR. The rest of the story belongs to me, and I belong to me. Oh, and yeah, the type-face at the top probably belongs to Scholastic.

It was a dark and stormy night. The rain beat down on the windows of Gryffindor tower, where five boys lay sleeping. Four of the boys lay there, dreaming sweet dreams and sleeping soundly after another start-of-the-year feast. But the other, a boy with messy black hair, was tossing and turning in his sleep. Suddenly, Harry Potter sat straight up in bed, clutching his scar. For a moment he stared about wildly. Then he found his glasses on the night stand, and slipped them on his nose. The room came into focus, but Harry was still visibly shaken. He crawled out of bed and tip-toed across the cold stone floor to the bed where Ron Weasley slept.

"Ron," Harry whispered, shaking his best friend. "Ron, wake up!"

"Geroff!" mumbled Ron, as he rolled over.

"Ron, wake up now!" Harry hissed.

Ron opened his bleary eyes and stared up at Harry. "What is it?" he groaned.

"My scar, I … had another nightmare… I think," said Harry sounded confused.

Ron sat straight up. "You-Know-Who?!"

"No," replied Harry, furrowing his brow and rubbing the scar on his forehead. "Worse." In the next bed, Neville Longbottom let out a loud snore.

"Let's go down to the common room," Ron hissed, eyeing Neville's sleeping figure.

The two boys put on their robes and snuck down the spiral staircase to the Gryffindor common room. The fire in the hearth was still glowing. Harry sat down in a large armchair, and Ron followed suit.

"So, what happened?" asked Ron, a look of dread in his eyes.

"Well," started Harry, "I'm not really sure. I was walking back to the castle with my firebolt. I guess it was after quidditch practice. But anyway, I heard footsteps behind me. I kept looking back, but no one was there. So I walked faster. I kept hearing the footsteps, following me, and finally I broke out into a run. I had almost reached the castle steps, when…"

"Aha! Got you kid!"

A pair of arms reached out and grabbed Harry. He felt himself being pulled back by this invisible force. He turned, and seeing a pair of arms coming through a black hole , yelled as loud as he could. "Shut up!" the voice exclaimed. Harry was dragged through the hole. He felt himself falling, falling, then, all of a sudden…

"Ouch!" He hit the ground with a thud. Harry stood up, rubbing his behind. He was in some sort of a dark, circular room. Shadowy figures sat around the walls, but Harry couldn't make out any faces. Had he somehow fallen into Dumbledore's pensieve? His question was answered when a rather normal looking man stepped out of the darkness and addressed him directly.

"You! Harry Potter!"

Harry turned to face the voice. He was surprised to see that the man was wearing muggle clothes. He also knew he was not in the pensieve, for no one had every acknowledged his existence there, except for Dumbledore himself.

"Harry Potter!" the man continued. "Do you not know that you are on trial?"

Confused, Harry looked at him. "For what?"

"You," hissed the man "are responsible for horrible things. You are the main character in a book that leads children astray."

"Whoa, hold it right there! A book? What book?"

The man held out a thick hardback. Harry titled his head and read the title. Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. "What!?" A familiar face on the cover grinned at him. "Hey, wait a sec, that's me!" He reached out his hand to take the book, but the man snatched it back.

"Do you deny that you are influencing our impressionable youth? Do you deny that you are leading them straight into the arms of the Wiccan community?"

"The What-an?"

"Don't get smart with me young man! You know what I'm talking about. These books were written to lead the youth of today straight to the occult." Numerous heads in the circle nodded in agreement.

"Look, I really have no clue what you're talking about, er, Sir, this comes as a bit of a shock to me…"

"Shock! You should be shocked! Witchcraft is wrong! It is forbidden!" Harry was strongly reminded of Vernon Dursley. "It goes against all the principles that we stand for! Love, discipline… these books go against all of it!"

"Um, excuse me for saying so, but I feel quite loved. Just because my relatives aren't the kindest people in the world, that doesn't mean I'm not loved. I've got Ron, Hermione," he said ticking off his fingers, "Professor Dumbledore, Sirius, Professor Lupin…"

"I knew you'd come around to that! Friends with wizards and witches, criminals and shape-shifters!"

At first Harry was confused, then he realized that this man must mean Black and Lupin. "Well, actually, Sirius was just framed, he never hurt anyone; and Professor Lupin didn't want to get bitten, trust me on that one, it just happened. He can't help what he is. In fact he's a better person than, well, let's say for example – Snape. Dumbledore told me once, that our choices make us who we are."

"Yes, and you choose to be a wizard! Evil incarnated!"

"Well, I guess I could live as a Muggle, but why should I if I'm meant to be magic? If your good at art, you should be an artist, right? Or if you're a great footballer…"

"You are leading today's youth astray!" Spit flew from the angry man's mouth. Harry flinched.

"Well, I'm sorry if I've hurt anyone. How was I supposed to know people were watching me?" He began to blush. "Hey, wait, is there anything about a girl named Cho Chang in those books?"

"Silence!" the man bellowed. "Dirty trick to throw us off track! And the scar upon your forehead," the man pointed. "A sign of the devil!"

"Well, I wouldn't exactly call Voldemort the devil, but yes, he is very evil."

"Silence, I tell you, you insolent little…" He raised his hand as if to strike Harry. Harry winced. The man seemed to change his mind.

"Do you deny that your books lead children down the dark path?"

"Well, if you mean to Voldemort, I haven't read the book, but, er- I really don't think he's the type of guy you'd want to hang around."

"Pathetic," the man sneered. "Doesn't understand a word of it. I call the next witness!"

Two dark figures led in a pale, but nice looking young lady. Her face was streaked with tears. She saw Harry and gasped. "Harry Potter?!"

Harry's stomach sank. Had he really done this? The woman rushed to him.

"Oh, Harry, thank you so much! You've made children want to read again! Oh, thank you Harry! I have a third grader, an LD student, and he just finished your last book in a month. All 800 pages!"

"Silence!" the man in the sweater vest yelled. "This court will be brought to order! Miss Marion, do you deny recommending these books to grade-school children?" The lady looked confused.

"Why, no, I'm a librarian, it's my job."

"Do you know the dangers these books hold?"

"Well, no," she answered again, looking a bit cross, "they're wonderful stories about friendship, and adventure, and magic…"

"Magic!" bellowed the man. "Ha! She admits it!"

The lady frowned. "Many good books have elements of magic in them. The Hobbit, The Chronicles of Narnia, A Wrinkle in Time, Peter Pan, Mary Poppins, Matilda…"

"Irrelevant!" the man thundered. "These books have nothing to do with the occult."

"Neither do Harry's books! Magic is simply used as a cover to tell a good story. The books are based in the classics, they have so many references, to mythology, and fairy tales, even to the bible."

"Heresy!" the man cried. "How dare you compare the two?!"

"We do sing Christmas Carols," Harry offered. "The armor in the halls last year sang 'Oh Come All Ye Faithful'. It was quite nice, really." The man gave him a piercing glare, and Harry was quiet.

"But these books are Satanic! Full of dark arts! Why, look at the author, she admits she loves Halloween –"

"Yes, and she also admits she believes in God. Her best friend, whom one of the characters is based on, is a devout Catholic." She glanced at Harry, and whispered, "Ron."

"The book are obviously fabricated to bring children to the Dark Lord!"

"Who, Voldemort?" asked Harry, confused.

"These books," answered the librarian, impatiently, "are 'fabricated' because the author thought up a good story, and wanted to give people the opportunity to enjoy it!"

"This enjoyment," hissed the man, "leads children to suicide and murder!"

"Do you know any of these 'child murderers?" the librarian asked. "Or is this something you read on the cover of a tabloid in the supermarket, next to the 'I had a baby with Elvis' article?"

The man looked quite upset by this. "Fine, I'll quote the text, if that's what you want. What about the phrase 'to the organized mind, death is but the next great adventure?"

"Isn't that what Christianity preaches? After death, you will continue, in either heaven or hell-"

"Yes," the man broke in, "and we can see where you're going." A few people chuckled at this remark.

"Why, just because I think differently than you? Why should you be the one to judge? I'm a Christian, I've read the bible, and I know that only God has the ability to judge."

"Speaking of which, the blatant disrespect of authority shown by Harry and his friends is intolerable! The things he gets away with, and the rewards he receives teach our children to question our guidance!"

"Perhaps it should be questioned," the librarian muttered.

"Now, hold on," said Harry. "You say you've read about me. D'you know how many times I've received detention for petty things? I really haven't gotten away with that much, and when I do break the rules, well," he said, furrowing his brow, "I do it to try to prevent bad things from happening and people from getting hurt. Besides, I didn't know anyone was counting all the times I've snuck out." He shifted uncomfortably.

"Many people are watching you, Potter! The popularity of these books is sickening! There's a movie being made, it will most certainly cater to these evil beliefs. "

"A movie?" Harry felt dazed.

"The publicity is sickening. This picture appeared in the paper the other day." Harry glanced at it. It was a muggle photo, showing a kind-looking, middle-aged lady with her arm around a stone griffin. "The author herself, hugging a demon. This one is known to be a familiar of witches. What do you say to that?"

"I'm sure Ms. Rowling knows less about witchcraft than you do, and so does the photographer who took the picture. If they had known, they wouldn't have used it, for it only gives people like you more fodder for your stories," answered the librarian, chin held high.

"What about the He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named? A play on words. Makes fun of I-Am-What-I-Am."

"I-Am-Who-I-Am," corrected the librarian. "Exodus 3:14." She grinned at Harry and winked. "Pays to know your literature."

The man shot her a threatening look, but if Harry's eyes were serving him right, the tips of his ears were a bit pink. "Irrelevant."

"No," continued the librarian. "It's completely relevant. You people have missed the point of this all along. Harry's book's are about love, and friendship, and acceptance; not about the occult and Satan. The wizarding world used by Ms. Rowling is merely a cover for a wonderful story. A story kids love." She turned to Harry with glowing eyes, and extended her hand to him. "Thank you, Harry Potter. No matter what these people may say, no matter what they tell you, you have changed so many lives in positive ways. You have brought kids away from the TV, kids who could hardly read, and given them a chance. You have offered the ones who love to read already more scope for the imagination. You have even entertained adults. Thank you Harry." She gazed at him with adoring eyes.

"Lies! All lies!" spat the man. The librarian faced him with a scornful expression.

"And you! You, who hide, because you are afraid of what's different. You, who don't have the confidence to read and discuss books with your children." Her eyes swept the room. "You, who don't have the faith that you can bring your children up to tell between what is right, and what is wrong; what is fantasy, and what is reality." She faced the sweater man. "I bet you've never even read the book."

"Well, er, not exactly," he fumbled, "but I don't have to to be able to tell that they're dangerous!"

"No," the librarian interrupted. "It is you people who are the danger. People who judge without knowing why. People who censor without reason. After all," she glanced at Harry with a bit of pity, "Harry here is just a character in a book, a piece of fiction. You are not. You are real. You have the true ability to hurt, to form, what today's children believe."

For a moment, there was silence. No one dared to move. Harry looked about the circle. Many of the women in the seats were crying, and the men looked rather sheepish. The man in the sweater vest looked stunned. Finally, he regained his composure. "On with the trial! Harry Potter, I pronounce you banned from the libraries…"

"What!" The librarian stared at him. "Have you heard a single word I said?!"

"Regardless," continued the man, holding out Goblet of Fire. "This book is evil, and I will not –"

With a lightening fast motion, the librarian grabbed the book and threw it to Harry. "Quick, Harry, open it, open it!"

Harry, with the ingrained instincts of quidditch training, grabbed the book. He quickly flipped through the first few pages. The villagers of Little Hangleton still called it the "Riddle House"… He looked about. The sweater man was coming toward him, arms outstretched menacingly. "Keep reading Harry!" cried the lady.

It stood on a hill overlooking the village… Harry felt a familiar tug. The book, a portkey? Odd. Once a fine-looking manor… the room began turning around him. Images went by his face, faster, and faster. He saw the fear on the face of the sweater man, the librarian's smile. He felt his feet lift off the ground. As he drifted away, he heard a chorus of voices. Thank you, Harry, thank you!

Harry finished his strange tale. Ron looked at him, his face cast in shadows from the dying embers. His forehead wrinkled in concern. Finally, he seemed to find his voice.

"We're just characters in a book?"

"Ron! Once again, you've missed the entire point!"

"But what if…" The two boys stared at each other dubiously. Then grins began to play at the corners of their mouths.

"Nah…" they said in unison, and headed up the stairs.

"Boy, wait 'til you tell Hermione this one!"