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Wishful Intent
It is a universally acknowledged truth that a single man, who has been cut off from his family, will drink and make wishes. Even more so, if this man is a wizard and his intentions were fulfilled whilst drinking.
He had not meant to do so, but one night, on one of his rounds as a prefect, he had stumbled upon an abandoned copy of a muggle novel. Pride and Prejudice, after that, had become his dirty little secret. For years he kept it in a secret compartment in a box under his bed. When he moved out of his parents house, after getting a job with the ministry, he carried it every day to work and read it in a toilet cubicle so no one could see him with muggle material.
He read the novel for only one reason, the middle sister. Although the heroine, Elizabeth Bennet would have been a typical Gryffindor, he found himself admiring Mary more as at times Elizabeth Bennet reminded him of his little brothers.
Like him, she was the middle sibling. Like him, she was overlooked by her older siblings, and mocked by her younger ones. The only difference between them though was that even her parents ignored her, while his didn’t. He felt a pity for her on that account.
In fact, he felt more than pity for her. He wished she was real.
One night after getting himself drunk on firewhiskey, he began to imagine her in real life. Of course, she would probably despise the fact that he was a wizard due to her muggle christian beliefs in those times. But that didn’t stop him from having a crush on Mary.
This night was particularly hard as his family found out that he had tried to stop Ron from being Harry’s friend and now didn't want to speak to him. Loneliness ate at his heart which caused him to drink more firewhiskey than he had ever done before, trying to dull the pain.
His eyes fell on the name Mary Bennet and he sighed, “If only you were real,” he drunkenly drawled, “you would understand me. You would know what it was like to be ignored by your entire family, no matter how good you are, or try to be, you are always overlooked. Please be real, please be real, please be real!”
With those words, he finished his probably tenth glass of firewhiskey. He slumped, his head resting on the book, “please,” he sighed, “be,” he grabbed hold of his wand which was pointing at the book, “real.”
His bleary eyes were turned away from his wand and he did not notice an orange glow.
*
One minute she was sitting on her bed in her nightdress and robe, reading Fordyce’s Sermons, then the next minute she was sitting on a stranger’s bed. She heard the sounds of snoring and turned her head before she blinked owlishly. She was suddenly aware she was on the bed of some strange man.
“Where am I?” she wondered aloud as she pulled the edges of her robe closer to her body. Most importantly, where was she? Secondly, why was she here? Thirdly, How could she be here? How was she going to get back?
With no answers forthcoming, she looked around and picked up what appeared to be a newspaper, “24th September 1995?” she gasped. “Daily Prophet?” she read the front page and was fascinated by the moving pictures then read further… no!
Magic? Wizards? Witches?
They were real?
She fainted!
*
He woke up with a thumping headache, mouth and throat as dry as a desert and a sore neck. He reached behind his neck and massaged the muscles there before he turned around and was stunned to see a woman on the floor of his flat. She looked as if she had fainted then fell asleep and she was in some sort of nightclothes, it would seem.
First he slowly stood up and carefully made his way to the cabinet where some potions were sitting in alphabetical order in the kitchen cupboard at the furthest corner of the one room flat. He pulled out the hangover potion and took a swig. In a matter of moments his headache and his fuzzy mouth had disappeared.
Now, he could turn his attention to the woman on the floor by the table. He picked her up and staggered with her in his arms to the bed and laid her flat. Then went back to the cupboard and found a reviving potion. He pinched her nose causing her to open her mouth and dropped four drops onto her tongue.
Five minutes later she sat up and then scurried against the headboard covering any bit of skin for modesty she could. “Who are you? Where am I? What on earth?”
“Do not be scared,” he said gently because his head still felt delicate and he did not wish to shout. “My name is Percy Weasley. Please tell me yours?”
“Miss Mary Bennet, Mr Weasley,” she stammered.
Percy’s heart sped up, she was here, his perfect girl was here. He smiled kindly at her, “You are in my flat,” he blushed when he realised she was in her night things, aware that he did not have anything suitable for her to wear, “I live in Diagon Alley in London.”
“London? Is Diagon Alley near Cheapside?” she asked. “I was in Hertfordshire,” she blinked as she looked around.
“Not sure about that,” he sighed as he glanced around the flat awkwardly, “As for your third question, I have not a clue either.”
Her eyes landed on the discarded copy of the Daily Prophet. She realised she was nearly two hundred years in the future.
“I have to get back to 1811,” she said as she raised her body up, her head hurt. “How do I do that?”
Percy had no idea and selfishly he did not even want her to go back.
“I cannot go back, can I?” she whispered.
“I am certain you can,” Percy sighed, his heart breaking at the thought of his perfect girl going back in the book.
“How?” she asked.
He rubbed his forehead, “I am not sure,” he sighed. “There is only one person I can go to that may be able to help.”
“Who is that?”
“My former Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore.”
“Headmaster?”
“Yes, at Hogwarts. It’s the school where I graduated from, two years ago.”
“I wish I could go to school,” she sighed dreamily.
He picked out a coat and offered it to her “So that you can cover your nightwear,” he softly said as he held it out.
“Where is this Hogwarts?”
“It is in a secret location in Scotland.”
“That will take days to travel to!”
Percy allowed himself a little smile. “Minutes, not days!” he exclaimed as he smartened himself up with a few silent spells and put his own coat on. “Come on,” he said as he took hold of her hand, “don’t be scared.”
With that he twirled elegantly on his feet using side along apparition to Hogsmeade. He was shocked that she did not bend over and throw up.
“What?” she blinked. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Because, normally muggles are disoriented by what I just did.”
She blinked again, “Hmm, apart from feeling a little dizzy, I am well. Excuse me, Mr Weasley, what do you mean when you say the word muggle ?”
“I mean you are not a witch or wizard!”
“So … is that an insult?” she asked as she looked down at her hands playing with the skirt of her nightdress.
Percy was horrified, “No, I do not think it is, there are terms far worse in the Wizarding World than Muggle. Also, the norm is that many people that have done what we have… erm, suffer sicknesses.”
“I know not what the norm is, but I am not so easily shaken.”
“It is only a mile or so to get to the castle. I am afraid I am going to have to blindfold you.”
“I can close my eyes and allow you to guide me.”
He took her hand in his again and sighed as it felt right to hold it. He slowly guided her through Hogsmeade then up the hill, through the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest, until they ended up at the gates.
Unsurprisingly, Professor Dumbledore was already waiting. “Follow me,” was all he said.
Percy sighed, “You can open your eyes now, Miss Bennet.”
“Welcome to Hogwarts, Miss Mary Bennet,” Professor Dumbledore said.
“Merlin!” was all she uttered before swooning in Percy’s arms.
*
When she awoke, she was sitting in a Queen Anne wingbacked chair by a fire and almost thought she was back at home. It was not until she found her glasses and put them on that she realised she was in a room filled to the brim with books, strange knick-knacks, and portraits that moved just like the pictures on the front page of the newspaper.
She was met by a bushy haired girl, about Kitty’s age, with kind eyes. The girl was wearing some strange items of clothing and had the audacity to wear odd breeches. She was even wearing light makeup. Mary thought this must be a person like Lydia.
“Hello,” she said, “my name is Hermione Granger.”
“Miss Granger, I am Miss Mary Bennet.”
She watched as the girl’s eyes went round as saucers.
“But but but,” Miss Granger stammered as she looked between the Merlin-like man, that Mary assumed to be Albus Dumbledore, and the young man in whose rooms Mary had found herself in.
“Now that we have introduced ourselves,” the elderly gentleman snapped. Mary distrusted that twinkle in his eye, her father’s eyes sparkled like that when he was about to make a sardonic or cutting remark. “Mr Weasley, you have our full attention.”
She watched as Miss Hermione Granger sat in a chair drinking tea, eating a biscuit and listening attentively to what the red haired man had to say. For some reason the girl had an odd expression in her eyes.
Mary remained quiet while drinking her tea. When Mr Weasley had stopped talking, Miss Granger was positively aglow with excitement. “Fascinating,” she breathed. “I wonder if this could happen again.”
“Not until we worked out how this happened in the first place,” said Mr. Dumbledore. “Although this could be some kind of Intention Paradigm, where the intent of the reader - in this case, Mr Weasley - was holding onto his wand with a deep seated wish and thus, this is the result. A character from a novel coming to life right in front of our eyes. Can you imagine if this happened to every one of us who read a muggle book and wished the characters were real. The world would be chaotic!”
“But imagine meeting Mr Darcy,” Hermione sighed.
All right, Mary thought, not so much Lydia - if she was she would have wanted Mr. Wickham. “What do you mean “ if characters were real ”, how do I know you are real?” Mary snapped.
“What’s real and not real, is the question, Miss Mary! How can we prove any of us are real?
Shaking her head, Mary sighed, and pressed her finger tips to her forehead and groaned, yes this man was like her father. He probably played chess and ignored those he did not see worth his while.
“This conversation is getting us nowhere,” Miss Granger said. “We need to get Miss Mary Bennet back in her book and in her own time and place - can intention help her here?”
“I think it would have to be someone from her world that must wish her back, I am afraid,” Mr Dumbledore said.
Mary scoffed, folded her arms and turned her face away so no one could see tears forming in her eyes, “I doubt anyone would miss me that much. I am of no consequence in the Bennet family.”
*
Meanwhile, in between the ink and paper of the well loved book, Pride and Prejudice…
A lot of empty spaces now stood in between the lines of Percy Weasley’s battered copy of Pride and Prejudice. Mr. Bennet could not say “three of the silliest girls in the country” anymore. Lydia had no one to scorn. Kitty had no one to turn to when Lydia had run away. Mrs Bennet seemed not to understand why she could no longer complain of having five daughters to wed and was at a loss as to what happened to one of them. Jane, ever sweet Jane, was wondering why there was no piano playing in the background, but it was Lizzy who was most at odds.
“I am sure I had another sister,” she said to herself, “but what was her name? I know it began with M.”
She resolved to write a list of all the girl names beginning with M that she could.
*
Mary had to sleep in a guest suite that night. She was being watched over by the handsome red haired Mr Weasley. He was kind to her, and tended to her every need. He treated her like a lady and smiled sincerely at her.
“I hope you sleep well, Miss Mary Bennet,” he said with a huge sigh.
She smiled at him as she settled in her bed. “Thank you, Mr Weasley.” She blushed when she saw that he was not leaving the room, “are you going to watch me sleep, sir?”
She thought he was lovely when he blushed and looked away. “I wish you could stay forever, Miss Mary,” he said to her.
“If I am not supposed to be here then I cannot; what will be, will be.”
*
Lizzy finished her list and carefully tested out each of the names. Only two struck her as right, but one more so than the other.
Mary!
Of course her name was Mary. How was she to get her sister back? She needed to get her family back together. Then she thought of fairy tales. All of them had wishes fulfilled. It could not hurt to give wishing a try.
“Oh Mary, we need you to come back! Please, come back from wherever you went, please. We need you!”
*
Percy watched Mary for as long as he could keep his eyes open. He sat at a table in the middle of the room and folded his arms on the table and nested his head in the centre. “Goodnight, Miss Mary.”
“Goodnight Mr Weasley.”
She felt a little queasy as she laid her head down, a little not-quite-there and strangely light. Before she closed her eyes, just after the nice Mr Weasley had closed his, she felt herself fading. With one last whispering sigh of “Mr Weasley,” she had disappeared.
*
The next morning, Mr Weasley woke up to the sound of his heart breaking. Miss Mary Bennet was no longer here. Someone from her world wanted her back desperately it seemed.
He felt a hand on his shoulder, he glanced up only to find the sorrowful eyes of Albus Dumbledore gazing down at him.
“Find someone real. There is a Mary Bennet out there for you.”
“How can you know that?” Percy asked.
“Love is a magic all of its own right. You can love, Mr Weasley, you should allow all kinds of love in your life and the rest will follow.”
Percy looked at the bed, “I wonder who it was from her world who called her back.”
“A sibling most likely. If I know the book as well as I should, then I would hazard a guess it was Miss Elizabeth.”
Percy rubbed his eyes, “It was a strange day yesterday.”
“Oh I do not know,” Albus said scratching at his chin, “No stranger than what usually happens around here.”