Alohamora - Please!

Simon's dear friend (and fellow Scorpio) Logan turned ten today. (Happy Birthday, Logan!) For his birthday we arranged to give him a starring role in his very own Harry Potter movie, which has evolved into a madcap miniseries about a young wizard struggling mightily to learn his craft (coming soon to a YouTube channel near you!). Monday after school we worked up the first episode, in which a groggy Professor Josie attempts to teach the lad how to Apparate; hilarity ensues.

Today we had planned to film a similarly bungled Flying Lesson -- Simon and I having worked out the kinks in our Green Screen set-up during a magic carpet ride over Paris last night -- but a quick look at the family calendar alerted us to the forgotten fact that Josie was supposed to be at a bass lesson on Capitol Hill from 4:00 to 4:30, right smack in the middle of our filming schedule. D'oh! Never have we wished more fervently for Floo Powder (to transport her effortlessly from our fireplace to the bass teacher's), or maybe an Obliviation Charm (to make both of them forget all about it), or perhaps a Time Turner (so we could be in two places at once). Lacking any of these, we grabbed bass, wands, brooms, and robes, and herded everyone into the Muggle-mobile for a rush-hour rush up and down Rainier Avenue.

Simon and Logan took the opportunity to point the camera out the car windows and shoot some breezy footage of trees and sky and buildings zooming by -- this will become background scenes for the Flying Lesson episode, when we get back to it. And after dropping Josie off for her lesson, we decided to take advantage of our proximity to Lake View Cemetery in order to film a dueling scene to die for.

We pulled into the graveyard at 4:06 and drove slowly along the winding road looking for just the right moss-covered mausoleum to serve as a backdrop. The place was deserted, which we considered a good thing, as we weren't sure how other visitors might feel about a couple of boys in Hogwarts robes leaping around among the headstones shouting "Avada Kevadra!" At a suitably creepy spot we stopped and filmed a quick scene, trying not to tread on anyone's actual grave in the crepuscular half-light. And then at 4:28, thoroughly chilled, we piled gratefully into the car, turned the heat up high, and headed for the entrance.

Imagine our dismay when we found the wrought iron gates closed, with not one but two steel padlocks firmly in place. D'oh! Our thoughts turned from Josie, whose bass lesson was drawing to a close half a mile away, to Logan's parents, who were planning to pick him up at our house in thirty minutes time. "I'm so sorry," we imagined ourselves calling to tell them, "but you won't be able to take your son out for a lovely birthday dinner at Buca di Beppo this evening, because I have managed to get him locked in a graveyard for the night."

Fortunately there was a telephone number posted on the gate, and when we called it we were told that a security guard was just completing his rounds, and would come let us out in just a few moments. When this gentleman arrived, we stashed our robes out of sight and tried to look like serious people who had lost track of the time while visiting our dearly beloved, recently departed Great Aunt Millie... but the amused look in his eyes made us suspect he might have witnessed Logan's wand-work from afar. Our chagrin increased exponentially when he pointed out that the gate wasn't actually locked -- the padlocks were attached all right, but the latch could still be lifted on the left side. D'oh, again.

Fortunately this fiasco little only delayed us by six or seven minutes -- which is, I can tell you, exactly the right amount of time to spend trapped in a graveyard at dusk with two underage wizards.