Meeting her detractors

"This is stupid." Emma sighed, stepping out of the car and being ushered towards a large building.

"The franchise has been getting some serious heat from these guys." a suited producer said, keeping pace with her, "We need to show them that the Harry Potter films are not... How did they describe it?" an assistant walking next to him consulted a clipboard,

"Vile, satanic propoganda to lead our children down the damned path of witchcraft." he read.

"Exactly!" the producer said.

"But where are Daniel and Rupert?" Emma asked.

"They're doing similar things, for other organisations. There's only so far we can spread the three of you around."

"I've got your costume laid out." a wardrobe assistant smiled as she caught up with them.

"Costume?" Emma frowned quizzically.

"Your Hogwarts uniform." the producer explained, "Our research shows these people aren't the best and brightest, frankly some of them might not realise you're an actress. We wanted to make sure the message gets across."

"I'm eighteen years old!" Emma protested, "Didn't you see, in Half-Blood Prince I barely wear the uniform even."

"I know, but stick to the classics." while they had been talking, they had entered the building, and Emma was ushered into a small room where a Hogwarts uniform - grey pleated skirt, white blouse, striped tie, kneesocks - did indeed lay over the back of a chair. "We'll get them ready for you."

He closed the door, leaving Emma alone. She looked around the room, which was clearly used for storage. There were stacks of chairs, flattened tables, boxes of candles, and several crosses. In one corner was a bookcase which seemed to just be Bibles.

Emma stripped down to her underwear, tossing her cardigan, t-shirt, jeans and socks into a pile on the floor. Then, conscious of how exposed she was, picked up the uniform to put it on.

"Well, this isn't right." Emma mumbled, looking at it and seeing its size. She turned to the nearby garment bag it had clearly come out of, read the label on the front. This was her costume from The Prisoner of Azkaban, several years before, this would be much too small!

Emma put the uniform back down. She would have to put her own clothes back on, and explain that no matter how dim they expected these people to be, they would just have to put up with it.

"How odd..." Emma said. She thought she remembered exactly where she had dropped her clothes, but they were not there. Dropping to her hands and knees, the underwear-clad beauty looked under stacks of chairs, as if somehow her clothes could have ended up there. Nothing.

"Five minutes, Emma!" came a voice from the other side of the door.

"Okay!" Emma called back, even though this was definitely not okay. She was not going out there in her undies, and since her own clothes had disappeared...

Four minutes later, Emma was almost squeezed into the costume. The blouse clung to her arms, stomach but especially her breasts, the thin white cotton stretched just short of splitting, the buttons barely clinging to their holes. The gaps between the buttons were just about hidden by her tie, which was too short to hang down far enough. The grey socks reached halfway up her ankles and stopped well short of her knees. And the grey pleated skirt was indecently short, barely covering anything. Emma had no hope of fastening its button, she could only yank the straining zip up as high as she could and pray for it to stay there.

It was done, she was dressed, in a manner of speaking. Emma walked very carefully to the door and opened it.