Grays Court

You know that bit in Harry Potter when Harry dies (again), and then sits in Kings Cross Station with Dumbledore and the small, withered Voldemort soul, that oozes gently under Harry’s chair and occasionally squeaks in pain? And they have that moment when Harry asks Dumbledore where he is, and Dumbledore says he doesn’t know, as they’re in Harry’s mind but that he thinks Harry is imagining Kings Cross? Of course you do.

Well, see now, if I were to be suddenly killed by Voldemort for the second time, my brain wouldn’t take me to the deeply significant metaphor of a train station, bla bla. No. My brain would take me to Grays Court. If my brain if it had all the time in the world, it could not imagine a better place than Grays Court.

This is how Helena Kealey and the Deathly Hallows would read:

“Where are we Dumbledore?” Helena asked, as the swirling dry ice that is meant to give the spooky atmosphere drained down the side of the set.

“Well, I don’t know,’ answered Dumbledore with a chuckle, ‘but I believe we’re in Gray’s Court in York.”

“Where’s that?’ Helena asked, ‘I’ve heard of that. I think I went there for my supervisor meeting once… it all seems like a dream now that I’ve been murdered by Voldemort again, only that, of course I haven’t.”

“It’s behind the back of the Minster. You have to walk along the little pebbled path to get there. You once came here on a very awkward first date. Well, you thought it was a date. I’m fairly sure he was just being polite. You got jam on your face which he sat staring at for a good hour before asking if you’d wipe it off… do you remember? You then tried to be sexy by licking it, and ended up dribbling down yourself?”

“Yes, I remember now.” Helena replied with a soft, dreamy voice. They were sitting in a very strange place. Light was streaming through the beautiful old windows, which, despite studying History of Art, Helena could not date. There were low tables, and when she turned around to better understand where she was, she saw a beautiful walled garden, with flowers, and a number of overweight guinea pigs in a cage.

“It’s beautiful here” She said.

“Yes,” agreed Dumbledore, leaning back contentedly into his soft and yet surprisingly supportive pillows, “and they have the most incredible scones.” He gave another chuckle and pulled out his pipe. “I’d never have gone on so much about sherbet lemons if I’d come here earlier. The new password for my office is going to have to be ‘cream tea for two’ I think.”

“So, let me get this right…” Helena said, turning sharply towards him, “we’re both dead.”

“Yes, that’s right, we’re both dead. Only, except that you’re not, of course. And you’ll notice that underneath the chairs which are clustered together around the table with the gold tray, in the beautiful (possibly medieval) cove with the windows, Lord Voldermort’s rotten soul is… rotting or something. Don’t touch it. It’s rank.”

Helena turned around to say something very interesting about how she couldn’t decide if she wanted to spend the rest of her life married to the ginger girl who can’t act, or just end it all now, when suddenly, she was interrupted by an angel.

“What can I get you?”  the angel asked. This particular angel was as beautiful as you would expect an angel to be and came with the tantalizing promise of bringing you your every wish with milk and sugar. Her wings were hidden under her black and white pinafore and she was paid minimum wage.

“Two scones, and a pot of earl grey tea,” Helena and Dumbledore said in unison.

“Now, tell me Helena.” Said Dumbledore once the freshly baked, hot scones had arrived and the tea and been poured, “how would you rate this place?”

“Well,” Helena replied, frowning slightly as she thought, “The tea pots are quite extraordinary, I love the deeply pretentious tea strainer; it makes the experience, so that’s a ten.  The scones are hot and buttery, and I would happily take being murdered to come back here again, so that’s a nine…  the whole place gets a ten for character, and probably a two for kitchness, (the pinafores did that for me), and so total awesomeness would have to be a ten too. Why do you ask?”

“Oh, no reason. In my not-always-particularly-humble opinion, your ratings are spot on.” Dumbledore smiled his knowing smile, and stirred his tea with the elder wand. “Although, honestly, if I were asked, I would also recommend coming at Lunch time, as their meals are delicious. It’s not the cheapest place on earth, in fact, would definitely make a dent in the old student loan, but there is no where better I’ve yet visited and it’s an excellent place to come for a treat or to discuss the magic Professor Snape and I get up to at night.”

“So,” asked Helena, “what happens now?”

“You go back to Hogwarts Helena and watch all your friends die. Shall we go dutch on this one?”