In aere aedificare

Writer's Block: If stains could talk

2009-09-11T14:27:41Z

If an annoying acquaintance got spinach between his or her teeth or an embarrassing salsa stain, would you tell them or let them suffer in shame?

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This assumes I would notice this "annoying acquaintance" had spinach in his/her teeth or a salsa stain on their shirt. In previous experience, I ignore people who annoy me as much as is humanly possible--and that includes not looking at them. Consequently, if I did look at them and notice this oh-so embarrassing food faux pas, I would not tell them. I don't want to talk to this person. They are bloody annoying. Depending on their particular brand of it, I could end up listening to them ramble on about how they hate embarrassing situations and, ohh, how this shirt will never get clean, and did you hear about Marcie and what she did with Ben and blah blah blah BLAH. And in the other type of annoyance (or, they are as close to my mortal enemy as a person can get in a world without magic and super powers), they'd probably point out everything that they can see is wrong with my appearance instead of becoming embarrassed at their own.

Therefore, I would continue ignoring them. If I don't talk to them, they can't see me, damn it.

long-freaking-time no post

2009-07-29T10:28:22Z

*peeks from under rock*

>.>

<.<

... Hi.

Anyone remember me?

<.<

>.>

*hides under rock*

Ashes and Wishes (Neville/Harry, PG-13)

2008-02-24T05:00:38Z

Title: Ashes and Wishes
Author: Alethia N. M. Black
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Warnings: AU
Genre: General, Romance
Summary: Harry's life is turned into a parody of Cinderella.
Word Count: 3,741 words
Author’s Note: This was inspired by another fic where someone compared the pumpkin carriages to Transfiguration, which gave me the image of Fairy Godmother!McGonagall.

::: ::: :::

Ashes and Wishes

by Alethia N. M. Black

::: ::: :::

In the beginning, Harry was sure he had a father and a mother who loved him very much. When he looked up at Snape, he knew love could have nothing to do with why he was here. Snape treated Harry like he was worth less than the dirt under his shoes. Harry never heard a kind, loving word from the man who claimed to have been in love with his mother and tolerated his father to be with her. He tolerated Draco and Pansy, also brushed off on him by his dead lovers, and even liked them at times in his own way, though it was hard to admit Snape could like anyone, let alone children who acted like that. Draco had numerous conquests, of both sexes, at a time, despite being the tender age of seventeen. Pansy had even slept around on occasion, but mostly she caused huge scandals and spread gossip to all who would listen to her. Still Snape gave Draco and Pansy special privileges, and all three of them demand chores to be done around the house, which were always done by him and he was not allowed to leave the house without finishing them. Needless to say, Harry never saw too much of the people outside.

Singing under his breath, Harry scrubbed the floors with a brush and a bucket of water. Snape had never taken Harry to get a wand, leaving him to do his chores with his hands. Seeing Draco and Pansy finish their chores in less than half an hour, he flushed with envy, but he did nothing. Hedwig hooted softly as she flew down to his side. "The trees they grow so high and the leaves they do grow green, and many a cold winter's night my love and I have seen." She nudged up against him, twittering as if she were talking to him. He sighed, ignoring his imagination, and continued scrubbing and singing. "And now my love is dead and in his grave doth lie, the green grass grows o'er him so very, very high (1)."

"That's finished," he said to Hedwig with relief. "I feel like some fresh air. Let's go into the gardens." Living in Spinner's End had little advantages, as it was far away from the rest of town, but the Prince family had built a beautiful garden. Harry loved taking care of it. There was an old Prince family legend: when Aveline Prince planted the first rose under her window on her wedding night, the garden flourished with each time she and her husband made love. When her husband died after eighty years of marriage, the garden filled with dahlias, roses, orchids, and lilies of all kinds withered until the single rose was left beneath her window. It took eighty more years for the Prince family to restore the garden. Although Snape cared for the garden (as it was his last memory of his mother, which Harry could understand), he lacked a green thumb. He designated it as one of Harry's chores, unaware of just how much he enjoyed the task.

Lying down in the garden, Harry closed his eyes against the harsh rays of the sun and let its warm wash over him. His favourite flower had to be the pink-tipped Great Maiden's Blush, one of the many roses under the cottage window. None of the flowers were too hard to care for though, as most of those unable to withstand disease or the many cold nights of winter had died out in the years past. He would never admit it to his step-family, but he liked looking at the rose for its colours; no doubt Draco would taunt him for hours about liking a pink-and-white flower. Harry simply admired the garden in secrecy. He always got his clothes dirty too and, after cleaning the entire house, would never go back inside without washing himself and his clothes. While Draco, Pansy, and Snape waved their wands and their clothes were clean, Harry had an empty, wooden pool behind the cottage where he would wash his clothes and then water himself down with the hose.

Harry glared into the cottage. His step-family expected him to wallow in misery and self-pity; he would have none of it. One of these days, he would be married and have a family of his own, never to see them again. If he succumbed to their desires, Harry imagined no one would want him in the first place. "Come on, Hedwig, we need to get back inside," he shouted as the sun started to set.

::: ::: :::

The next day, as Harry was scrubbing the floors in front of the fireplace, the fire roared to life before his eyes. An old woman's face stared scrutinously back at him. "Who are you? Have I not asked for Spinner's End?"

"You are at Spinner's End, madam. I'm Professor Snape's step-son, Harry Potter. Surely he speaks of me?" Harry asked, looking confused.

The old woman shook her head. "Indeed, he has not, young man! I will have a word with him about it, I'm sure. I'm surprised you have not yet bowed your head. You must recognise Queen Augusta."

Harry's eyes widened and he shook his head before bowing it. "I'm sorry, Your Majesty. I do not leave the house or read much of the news. Will you accept my humblest of apologies?"

Queen Augusta smiled. "From a respectable young man like yourself, an apology cannot be refused." She cleared her throat. "On to business, since Severus is not there, I suppose I will extend the invitation to you, as well. I am holding a ball for Prince Neville to find him a suitable mate. All held in high regard are invited." As a regally-decorated card flew out of the fireplace, Harry caught it and stared at the purple script. "It was nice to meet you, young Harry. We would be delighted if you would come."

"Without failure, Your Majesty," he said breathlessly, feeling as if the breath had been knocked out of him, as the queen and the fire disappeared all at once.

Pansy came into the kitchen, yawning and stretching. "What was all of that talking in here about, Potter? Have you finally gone daft and startled babbling to yourself? Or, God forbid, to that bird?"

Harry looked at her irritably and contemplated starting another fire and throwing the invitation into it. "We have been invited to attend a ball held in honour of Prince Neville's coming-of-age. He's hoping to find a potential mate."

His step-sister looked at him incredulously for a moment before she jumped forward and snatched the invitation from his hand. She glanced over it quickly before she started screaming, "Draco, Snape, come quick! COME QUICKLY!"

Walking into the kitchen with the most murderous look of his face—hair tousled from sleep, clothes strewn on at random—Draco glowered at Pansy, waiting for her to come up with a good reason for disturbing his morning routine. Snape followed in a similar mood, although he was covered with what looked like a spilt potion. He scowled at her. "What do you want, you shrieking banshee?"

"Look—look at this!" She thrust the invitation at him, bouncing excited. "There's going to be a ball!"

"To Professor Severus Snape, Miss Pansy Parkinson, Mister Draco Malfoy, and Mister Harry Potter," Snape read, giving Harry a strange glance. "You are cordially invited to attend a ball intended to celebrate the completion of Prince Neville's ascent into adulthood. In order for Prince Neville to fulfil obligations and ascend to the throne, he must find a suitable mate and be married to them within a month of reaching adult in the next fortnight. One will be chosen from the ball. Dress appropriate for royalty is required. Sincerely, Queen Augusta," he finished. "Why have you been invited?" Snape looked pointedly at Harry.

"I was the one who answered her call. She thought I was a nice boy, so she invited me." Harry shrugged innocently. "She didn't seem pleased that you never mentioned me."

Snape sneered at him. "You are not attending that ball. I would have to spend my hard-earned Galleons to buy suitable attire for you. You have chores to do that will take all day."

"Besides," Draco spoke up. "You don't even have a wand. You're powerless!"

"Yeah. What would the prince want with a peasant like you? You're worthless!"

Harry set his jaw and swallowed hard against the hard truths. "I'm not powerless! I'm not worthless! And I AM going to the ball! Queen Augusta was perfectly happy to—" Pansy pushed him savagely and he flew back into the fireplace, crying out as his back collided with the cinder-covered logs and his head hit the brick wall inside. His vision blurred. Harry curled forward, holding the back of his head.

Snape smirked at him. "For your insolence, you will be allowed to attend the ball once you have finished your chores for the day. However, you will be given Draco and Pansy's chores, as well as the extra task of cleaning the fireplace before we leave. We will not use the Floo in a dirty fireplace."

As the three of them left the room, Harry fought back tears. "I ask not for ease and riches, nor earth's jewels for my part, but I have the best of wishes for a pure and honest heart (2)."

::: ::: :::

On the day of the ball, Harry spent all morning cleaning the fireplace for his step-family, his heart hurt and aching. He knew he would never be able to go to the ball without Galleons to buy more than his rags. He had no doubt of his abilities to finish all of the chores in time, but he would never find a spare dress. He stood aside while Snape, Draco, and Pansy each entered the Floo. Pansy looked at him covered in soot and snorted. "Worthless, just as I said. Lancashire Castle!"

Harry paid no mind to his heartache after that and focused on his other chores. He washed the soot from himself and changed his clothes, setting the dirty ones in the pool, before he came back inside to clean the floors. He had just finished that task when he heard a splash-like noise coming from behind the cottage. Furrowing his eyebrows in confusion, Harry rushed outside to find someone had fallen into his pool!

"Who are you? What do you want?" he asked, panicked.

An old woman rose from the pool before him. Her lips were pressed tightly together and she looked much like a drenched cat with her emerald robes pulling her down and her pointy hat almost falling from her head. She looked at him severely, seeming to blame him for the condition she was in, before she flicked her wand toward her clothes and they were instantly dried! She smiled at him, but Harry didn't think she looked too inviting. "Why, I'm your fairy godmother, dear!"

He cocked his head. "Really? Is this going to be like that French tale, Cinderella?"

She blinked. "Please, tell me you are smarter than this!" she groaned. "Sincerely, child, I am not your fairy godmother. I am Professor Minerva McGonagall! Queen Augusta sent me to you when she saw your absence from the Snape party. Come, child, why have you not used your wand to finish these chores and fix up your dress?"

"I would have, Professor. However, I have never received a wand. They told me I was not worthy of one."

Professor McGonagall's look became more critical at that moment. This time, when she smiled at him, he liked her a lot more. "You are indeed worthy of a wand, dear boy. We will rectify Professor Snape and his company at the ball. For now, we have some work that needs to be done! Let us find some of your step-sibling's dresses, shall we?" she purred.

Harry led the professor to Draco's bedroom and took out some of his dress robes. He had worn his best light blue robes to the ball, just as Pansy had dressed in a pink frilly dress that looked absolutely ridiculous. Professor Snape refused to wear anything but his plain black robes, as he was not there to impress the prince, only to "get rid of his parasites." Draco still had tons of dress robes in his closet. Harry was only a little shorter than he was and he only needed a couple to combine together. There was one emerald green dress, while there was another black one with sparkling silver lining that caught Harry's eye, and he laid them both on the bed. "Professor, can you perhaps take the lace trimming from this black one and run the silver lining throughout the green in this one?" Harry asked, gesturing to each one as he spoke.

Humming as she thought, Professor McGonagall smiled, narrowing her eyes at the robes. "Yes, I can. It's pretty complicated Charms, but I can certainly do it! My nieces have demanded similar all the same." Harry's eyes brightened as he backed away from the bed. He watched her with interest as she whispered some magical words and moved her wand methodically. She fascinated him with her intense concentration. Then he caught sight of the dress robes, which had made a total transformation: the dress now had black lace trimmings around the edge of the robes; the emerald green practically glittered with the silver lining running through it. "This is perfect! Oh, thank you, Professor!"

"You're welcome, Harry. Allow me to show you how to use the Floo Network, since you haven't yet had the pleasure. Put on the dress robes, and then see me at the fireplace." She swept from the room. Harry undressed himself down to his pants, took the dress robes, and stood in front of Draco's mirror, holding the robes to himself for a while. He looked out of place like a peasant masquerading as a prince.

The mirror seemed to agree with him. "What are you doing here, rags?" it sneered. "Stealing Draco's clothes, are you? Sorry, pauper, but you aren't going to bag a prince!"

"Oh, shut up," he muttered as he pulled the dress robes over his head. He stuck his tongue out at it as he left the room to find McGonagall. "Professor?"

"Right, Potter, come here." Professor McGonagall looked him over and cringed. "I suppose there's nothing to be done about your hair. Here, take this powder, get into the fireplace, and yell the name of your destination as you throw the powder; in this case, it is Lancashire Castle. And Potter, be very careful about pronunciation." Harry nodded, grabbed the Floo powder, and yelled "Lancashire Castle" as he threw it down.

::: ::: :::

Travelling with Floo powder turned out to be the strangest thing Harry experienced, not that he had experienced much at the time. He fell to his knees as he arrived at the party and the usher—a kindly old man with half-moon glasses—looked down at him kindly. "Good evening, sir." Harry smiled. The usher extended a hand to help him up. Harry grasped it and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet.

"Thank you, sir," he said politely, bowing his head.

The usher looked pleasantly surprised and returned the gesture. "You're most welcome, sir. Follow me." The usher led him to the top of a rather large, intimidating stairwell. Harry stared down it, wondering how he would walk down them without falling down. The world seemed to stand still while he stood there. All of the dancing ceased, the violin and piano stopped playing, and all eyes were on him who dared disturb the dance later than was fashionable. An ecstatic voiced floated from below:

"Ah, he has finally arrived! Welcome, Harry Potter!"

Queen Augusta herself stood up to his presence and Harry had to suck in a startled breath as he started down the stairs. He saw the prince stand beside her after giving her a questioning glance. Harry didn't blame him; after all, it was unusual for the queen to stand up for anyone, let alone someone like Harry. He heard several people muttering around the room, saw his step-father scowl at him from across the room, and looked beyond all of them. His eyes were for the prince only and, as Harry stared at the prince, Prince Neville stared back at him. Finally, finally, he was at the last step, and then he was on solid ground again, and he closed his eyes, grateful, so very grateful. His moment was over, but Harry still felt breathless from it, his heart pounding. When he looked back up, Prince Neville was gone.

Harry stood in the middle of the floor awkwardly, looking back at all of the people looking at him. He glanced up at the band desperately and the violin screamed to life, followed closely by the twinkling sounds of the piano. He tried to move off to the side when his wrists were caught in a warm grasp of someone's hands. Harry gasped as he looked up. Prince Neville stood before him, looking down at Harry intently. "Would you grant me the honour of dancing with a beauty such as this?" he asked, gently brushing a hand down Harry's cheek. Harry nodded, for he could hardly speak.

They backed from each other and bowed before coming back together again. Harry naturally followed the prince's lead, ignorant of the rules of dance, but he found his place in Prince Neville's arms. It was at least half an hour before one of them spoke again, too comfortable in each others' arms. "I have never been blessed with such an honour, Your Highness."

"It is I who has been blessed, dear Harry, so please call me Neville," he pleaded. Harry's hand clenched on Neville's shoulder, shocked by his humility, and he smiled. "I have looked all this night, not yet have I found someone who is as beautiful and humble as you. Certainly no one my grandmother would stand up for," Neville said with amusement.

"She called upon our household a fortnight ago, asking for our presence at your party. Her Majesty seemed quite upset that I had not been mentioned in casual conversation. Professor Snape—"

Neville looked at him with surprise. "I'm shocked! Surely Snape could not have produced such a lovely creature?"

Harry laughed. "Good Lord, no! He is my step-father, however, and Draco and Pansy are my step-siblings. None of them will be pleased with my presence here tonight." He spared them a glance, watching as Draco and Pansy flushed red with envy and Snape turned green. "My father and mother were James and Lily Potter."

"Ah, Gran tells me the Potters were a noble family who did their country justice. No doubt, you have great magical powers and you have inherited a gentleman's Galleon."

Blushing, Harry looked to the floor. "I'm afraid not. I have no wand, nor do I have a Galleon to my name. I have never heard of such an inheritance."

Shaking his head, Neville tilted Harry's head up. "Do not be ashamed. Gran and I will have this situation looked into. If there was one hint of abuse or neglect in that household, you will have the first choice of their punishment."

"No! I forgive them. I would never wish harm upon another person, Neville. You must realise that."

Neville nodded. "Of course, I should have realised how graceful and merciful you are. I must speak with Gran—excuse me."

With that, he rushed off, leaving Harry in the middle of the dance-floor. Harry stood there for about a minute before he saw Snape, Pansy, and Draco coming for him. "Those are my dress robes, you peasant," Draco growled at him. "What have you done to them?"

Pansy crossed her arms against her chest, laughing. "He's been touching them. He's probably tainted them with his dirty blood," she sneered. "You would be best off burning the rest of them. Thank God, he didn't get to your lucky ones!" Draco looked down at his dress robes, and then glared at Harry.

"How dare you disobey orders? You were not given permission to destroy Draco's dress robes!"

Harry glared back at them. "You never told me not to either! Besides I think I look bloody fashionable. It's the least you can do for me after the way you've been treating me all of these years!" Pansy reached out another hand to slap him. Harry grabbed her wrist. "There's no fireplace to push me into this time, Parkinson. I don't want to deal with it any more. I was willing to forgive you for all of the horrible things you've done to me. This is how you repay grace." He released her, suddenly feeling incredibly tired. "Please, leave me alone. Do that for me, at least."

Snape stared down at him disgustedly with some strange softness in his eyes before he barked at Draco and Pansy. "Draco, Pansy, it's time for us to leave."

A warm body held Harry up as he began to fall, emotionally and physically drained by the length of the day. "I've got you," Neville whispered in his ear, propping him back on his feet. "Gran has an announcement to make." He held his cheek against Harry's endearingly, arms wrapped around his waist. "Listen."

"Ladies and gentlemen of the court, it has been a joyous occasion for Prince Neville this night. He managed to pick a suitable mate that I am sure he will be quite pleased with. Harry James Potter," Queen Augusta continued, but Harry could no longer hear what she was saying over the silence shouting in his ears.

"What do you say, Harry? Would you do me the honour of marrying me?" Harry turned in his prince's arms and pressed their lips together in a joyful kiss. It took both of them a few minutes to realise they were floating on air as fireworks burst above them.

::: ::: :::

Professor McGonagall looked to the usher at her right, directing the celebration with her wand. "Do you think we did good, Albus?"

"I think this is the greatest little fairy tale young Harry could ask for, Minerva."

Finis.

::: ::: :::

(1) From The Trees They Grow So High, British folk song.
(2) From Calon Lân, Welsh hymn.

there in the shadows, pg-13

2008-02-07T00:05:37Z

Title: there in the shadows
Author: Alethia N. M. Black
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Warnings: Failing at being scary
Genre: General
Summary: Detention is never fun, but mix in a mysterious Ravenclaw, a couple of defensive Gryffindors, and a few divided Hufflepuffs and it's hell for Quirita Rivers.
Word Count: 1,596
Author’s Note: This is for omniocular's February Challenge: Screen Play. It is meant to draw parallels between Harry Potter and Stephen King's IT.

::: ::: :::

there in the shadows

by Alethia N. M. Black

::: ::: :::

Quirita sat complacently in the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom under the watchful gaze of Professor Quirrell. She stared back at him, noticing with interest how he twitched violently each time he looked over at Professor Snape. Unlike the rest of the nobodies in detention with her, as a Slytherin, she might be expected to be in detention. She certainly expected to be here more than three Hufflepuffs, two Gryffindors, and a Ravenclaw. Quirita knew why the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs were here. After Potter's stunt last week, the Hufflepuffs had built up a huge defensive force against the Gryffindors and Slytherins; apparently one of them — she suspected Megan Jones, a huge gossip — spouted off a bunch of crap about Potter and the Gryffindor girls rushed to his rescue. According to Zabini, Andrew Stebbins tried to stop the fight and ended up with detention anyway. What should he expect? It was Snape, after all. As for the Ravenclaw, none of the Slytherins she talked to had a clue about him. He rarely talked to anyone, even his own housemates. Quirita could hardly blame him. If she didn't need the information, she would never talk to her housemates either.

Snape cleared his throat. "You will stay here until every inch of this room and the adjacent rooms are cleaned. I don't care if it takes all night!" He smiled maliciously, Quirita knowing it wasn't truly a smile at all. "Do you have any questions?"

Marissa Runcorn spoke up from beside her fellow Gryffindor. "Will we be able to use our wands?" Quirita shook her head. How stupid did this girl have to be?

"No. Professor Quirrell will take those in a few minutes. The cleaning supplies are in that closet." Snape gesticulated to the right corner of the room. Then he glared at Quirrell. "I'll leave them with you now," he said disdainfully.

"Y-Yes, yes, very—very well," Quirrell stuttered. As Snape swept out of the room with the grace of a gnat, she watched her Defence professor walk around the classroom to each student, taking their wands from them, and she gritted her teeth. Quirita trusted Quirrell about as much as she trusted Pansy, who would turn on her friends as quick as she would her enemies; she did not want to give up her wand. "And you, Miss Rivers?" said Quirrell with surprising ease. She glared at him, taking supreme satisfaction in his cowering, and handed over the wand with much distaste.

For the next twenty minutes, she and the others split into the adjacent rooms, working separately and diligently. Quirita realized it might be quicker if her fellow students could cooperate, but she doubted their ability to speak civilly to each other for more than ten minutes. Kevin Entwhistle, the antisocial Ravenclaw, worked on polishing the awards in a trophy case next to her. She was shocked to see Jones in the room with them. She would have expected the most outgoing, social Hufflepuff she knew of to be chattering away with her housemates. On the other hand, Stebbins was likely to be angry with her for starting the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff scuffle; Sally-Anne Perks, while less likely to hold a grudge against Jones, probably felt the need to apologize to the Gryffindors. Quirita saw Runcorn as one of a breed of arrogant and stubborn Gryffindors, whereas Sophia Roper had a sweet temperament, she worked hard for adequate grades, and she never minded being friends with other houses. She doubted Runcorn would listen to a word Perks uttered while Roper would be most forgiving of her. A lot of them were incredibly predictable.

Quirita startled as a door slammed from outside. Entwhistle bolted into the Defence classroom, amazing her with his speed, and shouted, "He's gone!" It took Quirita a moment to figure out who he was talking about before she rushed in behind him. How dare he? She sneered. This little rat had no right to take her wand — their wands — out of this room! Quirita looked around as she heard a growl. Runcorn yanked as hard as she could on the doorknob. He had locked the door. They had no wands. Entwhistle echoed her thoughts, "How the fuck are we supposed to get out of here?"

Thoroughly disheartened, she sunk to the floor.

::: ::: :::

It turned out that three of her fellow students possessed healthy phobias of the situation. Two of them, Megan and Sophia, were afraid of the dark. Runcorn was afraid of being entrapped in small spaces. Quirita felt grateful for the blackmail material, but she hardly had the time to enjoy it. She rubbed her forehead. The rooms pleased Quirita very much with their size, but she was used to living in a small cottage with her guardians. She supposed some little princess like Marissa would have a hard time adjusting to rooms fit for a small castle.

Quirita never liked Marissa Runcorn too much.

In order to distract the frightened members, Entwhistle came up with the brilliant plan of continuing their work. Quirita was unable to express any job over the suggestion, but she figured it would be for the best. If Snape came back without them having cleaned the rooms, he would light into them quickly enough. More detentions with the rest of this strange bunch—she would be overjoyed.

Cleaning meticulously to avoid her irritation with the entire situation—for if she thought about Quirrell for too long, she was liable to commit murder—Quirita polished one of the professor's large dressers, which was made out of black walnut, a wood she saw often in her own home. She opened the door and screamed bloody murder as dark arms came forth from the shadows and wrapped around her, trying to pull her in.

::: ::: :::

If there was one thing she could like about Runcorn, it was her unbelievable reflexes. Of course, being rescued from the jaws of death could help that. Runcorn rushed forward from across the room, grabbed her waist, and pulled on her with such strength that Quirita was ripped from the monster's arms and flew back, landing on top of her rescuer. She stared in horror at the monster as it stepped forward from the dresser. It looked like one huge shadow. Thinking about how it could swallow her whole struck fear into her heart. Runcorn swore under her breath and shook her. "Would you get off of me? It's not like you're some delicate little princess, Rivers!"

"Oh," Quirita stuttered and she scrambled to get away from the monster. As soon as she did, the thing changed. Its entire form seemed to melt into something else, which Quirita could not see. She stared at the space where the creature was, reaching a hand to touch Runcorn's shoulder. "Is it gone?"

Runcorn's eyes were fixed on the space in front of her fearfully. Quirita heard a whinny and the click of hooves on the floor. "Are you afraid of horses?"

"That's a Thestral," Entwhistle said from the corner. She felt envious of his composed countenance. "Actually, it's a boggart. There's not much we can do about it without our wands."

Quirita never would have revealed such a weakness, but Perks blurted out, "I wouldn't know what to do even with a wand."

Entwhistle smiled. "That's not surprising. It's a third-year spell. The only reason I know it is we have a boggart in our cellar and underage wizards in infested homes are permitted to use that spell. I'm sure we could irritate it back into the dresser if we had some bright light. Boggarts prefer darkness."

"Will it hurt us?" said Roper from behind Runcorn, as she dragged the girl away from the boggart.

"I believe it can. If you can manage when it's that close to you, laugh in its face. The things are slow and hate happy sounds."

All talk paused for a moment, before Quirita had her most brilliant revelation yet. "Tickling," she said.

"Tickling?"

"Yes! We can tickle each other. We'll all be laughing and then the boggart will go back into the dresser."

Entwhistle nodded. "That would work. I'll shut the dresser when it gets in there." When he stood next to the boggart, it changed into a demented-looking clown. Entwhistle looked peeved, but remained otherwise unaffected. Perks attacked Runcorn with the tickling first, obviously feeling the need to cheer the girl up from her bout with the boggart. Runcorn's enthusiastic giggles brought the rest of them into a wave of snickering, while Stebbins stood awkwardly off to the side until Roper and Jones both tickled Quirita from behind, bringing her down to the ground, and then he had to laugh at the sight of a Slytherin laughing like a fool with a bunch of Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs.

::: ::: :::

It didn't take long before the monster — the boggart — had been locked back into the dresser where it belonged. By the time Snape checked in with them at midnight, the rooms were completely cleaned. Quirita leaned against Entwhistle, who looked down at her with shock. She shrugged; she was too tired to worry about his opinion. Entwhistle filled him in on what had happened during their detention, as Snape grew paler in the face with each detail. When he finished, Snape looked pissed off and ready to murder someone. Hopefully, she thought, it was Quirrell. "I'll have your wands to you shortly," he promised tartly.

Quirita sighed in relief and looked up at Entwhistle. "Can you carry me back to the dorms? I don't feel up to walking right this moment.... Are you really afraid of clowns?

Finis.

without the rain, pg

2008-02-04T21:46:43Z

Title: without the rain
Author: Alethia N. M. Black
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Warnings: AU
Genre: General
Summary: Harry James Potter will never have a normal life, but it can get better.
Word Count: 1,014 words
Author’s Note: This is almost an entire subversion of canon. There is an additional warning that I will not reveal. I will simply apologize in advance for those who do not like, but it is meant to be a surprise to everyone, including the characters. Also there is a direct quote from J. K. Rowling in the form of the prophecy. Sequel to by any other name.

::: ::: :::

without the rain

by Alethia N. M. Black

::: ::: :::

Harry's first memory — aside from those of flashing green light and a burning pain in her forehead and a woman's screams — came from when she was three years old. It was a vision of family with Sirius, Remus, Peter, and Dorcas huddled around her in the Dursleys' living room, while the Dursleys sat off to the side, glaring at the bunch of them. Uncle Vernon hated Sirius from the start, even as he disliked all of them for their magical abilities. On the occasion of that memory, Sirius showed up with Remus on his motorcycle and Dorcas followed along with Peter on the back of her broomstick. It was a Saturday afternoon, after Uncle Vernon had gotten home from working hard all day, and she knew all he wanted to do was lounge in his favorite chair. Harry heard the motorcycle roar to a stop outside of the door. Her uncle obviously did as well, because in the next moment she heard one of the doors upstairs slamming open with a crack and her uncle's voice bellowed, "What the bloody Hell is all of that racket?" Harry cringed at the rampant stomp-stomp-stomp of her uncle storming down the stairs.

"Come on now, Vernon," Sirius said sly as he sauntered through the door as though he owned the property. "You certainly remember me from Lily and James' wedding, don't you? I'm the bloke who turned your teeth orange!"

She then saw a shade of red she had never seen before on Uncle Vernon's face — so red that it was almost purple — but Harry would see it many more times in the future. Though she had no comprehension of the danger Sirius was in at that time, she was now ever-thankful of Remus' timely entrance. He walked in and wrapped his firm hand around Sirius' wrist. Through his actions, both Sirius and Uncle Vernon seemed to deflate instantly and all thoughts of fighting were forgotten. That was the first glimpse Harry received of the calming powers Remus possessed.

Just as every one of them became quiet and started fidgeting, Dorcas dragged Peter into the house, looking quite peeved with her husband's reluctance to come in. "I'm sure the Muggles won't poison you, Peter!" As she glared scathingly at him, Peter grinned sheepishly, and the lot of them burst into laughter.

::: ::: :::

Fate gazed down upon the twisted universe she had wrought and frowned. This was not the result she had expected. She meant to throw the wizarding world upon its head, for which Sybill Trelawney would be to blame and for which she would be duly punished. Instead she had created a world in which Harry Potter could grow up with a loving family. She huffed. Such sentimentality was disgusting. Fate figured she must have done this on purpose somehow. After all, if Fate failed at implementing her own plants, when would anything turn out like it was supposed to?

Rubbing her temples delicately, for thinking about herself confused her so, Fate turned her mind to more pleasant subjects, like how something had to go wrong with Harry's fight with Voldemort, and then Sybill Trelawney would be punished and shunned like the pompous fake she was!

Fate laughed and the crystal ball in front of Sybill Trelawney shattered violently.

::: ::: :::

"What was Hogwarts like?" Harry asked when she was five and her natural curiosity had been piqued during many discussions to which she had been privy but never quite understood.

Sirius hesitated, holding the handle of a tea kettle, before he rested the kettle against the burner. "Er... well, it's kind of hard to describe in one conversation."

"If you're asking us to condense seven years of memories into about one-hundred words or less, it's not possible!" protested Remus.

Feeling thoroughly let down, Harry slumped forward for a few seconds and tried to think of what she might want to know most about their lives at Hogwarts. "What about my parents? What were they like?"

Remus hugged Harry tightly against his body, cradling her in his lap. Sirius set the kettle down entirely and came to rest beside them. "Your parents were two of the most amazing people we've ever had the pleasure of knowing. Your mum, Lily, was excellent at Charms and Potions. None of the rest of us lot liked Potions too much, but Lily... She could do anything she had her mind set on. James, he was a bit of a prankster while he was at Hogwarts. To be truthful, he never truly grew out of it. He just grew into it a better way, I guess," Remus said. He glanced at Sirius with a grin. "Unlike your godfather who has still refused to grow into an adult. Twenty-five years old, Harry, Sirius still acts like we're sixteen!"

Sirius scoffed. "That's never bothered you before now," he muttered with a leer.

"Shut up, Sirius. There are children here."

Rolling his eyes, he decided to humor Remus and pulled Harry between them. "Your parents. Well, I have to admit I hated Lily for a while there. I felt like she was stealing James, my best friend, away from me. It took a long time for her to convince me we had gained a friend, rather than lost one. Now James was my best friend from the moment we met on the Hogwarts Express. It's not a moment either of us should be proud of, but we bonded over tormenting Snape."

"Sometimes I felt like sticking up for him, but I just knew I couldn't. I loved you guys, no matter how horrible you were to other people, and I couldn't let that go for someone like Snape," Remus admitted, torn between fondness and a sense of potential devastation, as if he were reliving the moments.

Sirius twirled some of her hair around his finger. "Are you happy with that, little Harry? Do you think you can sleep now that you've brought such dark memories to the forefront of our minds?" he lamented melodramatically. Harry nodded eagerly. "Then, off to bed you go!"

CONGRATULATIONS, NEW YORK GIANTS!!!

2008-02-04T03:26:29Z

Now, can we move on from the post-game show and let me watch House? COME ON!

feedback feedback feedback

2008-02-03T20:40:15Z

Everyone go ahead and join in on the Feedback Meme. I'm over here.

And join lumos_sorting for extra-feedback from me.

Killing Rufus Scrimgeour, PG-13

2008-02-02T20:55:08Z

Title: Killing Rufus Scrimgeour
Author: Alethia N. M. Black
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Warnings: Dragons, vampires, and cold weather, oh my!
Genre: General
Summary: Rufus Scrimgeour sends Tonks to Romania and she hates him.
Word Count: 2,050 words
Author’s Note: This was for the femgenficathon, but it's very, very late. :|

::: ::: :::

Killing Rufus Scrimgeour

by Alethia N. M. Black

::: ::: :::

Tonks forced her broom through the harsh winds and falling snow with little resistance and set her jaw as another shiver shook her body. She couldn't find it in herself to be cheerful under the March morning's grey skies; this assignment had come up at the worst possible time. It might not have been the coldest month of the year in Romania, but it was still dreadfully cruel for Scrimgeour to send one of his Aurors out in Romania's highest peaks during the winter. Her bad mood was worsened in Bucharest, among all sorts of red and white decoration, when her guide disappeared with nothing more than some vague directions! As a result, Tonks had little hope of finding the dragon reservation she was looking for in the Transylvanian Alps even without the clouds, snow, and winds. She should have been incredibly selfish and allowed one of the newer recruits to take the assignment, but in the end, Tonks knew she needed this; she needed time to find herself, she needed to run away from the pain of love, and she needed the freedom she felt flying in such an open, hazardous place. And so, fuck the freezing snow, the unforgiving winds, and the dreary clouds; she was going to do this job better than any other Auror could.

She slowed her broom to a hover. Tonks knew she had to be close to the reservation after flying for hours upon countless hours. She pulled her wand from her sleeve and cast the Clear-Sight Charm. Her vision sharpened dramatically, becoming as focused as a hawk's, and the snow cleared from her sight. There, a few kilometres away, was a giant, tree-filled plateau jutting from the mountainside. Tonks grinned, ducked against her broom, and zipped quickly towards the plateau as her vision returned to normal. She loved using that charm.

Reaching the plateau in a matter of minutes, Tonks flew over the gigantic trees. The trees towered over Muggle standards, magically raised in order to hide the massive dragons. She scouted for a clearing and saw one bearing a bland-looking, rectangular, pale green building. This must be where the dragon-keepers are, Tonks thought, and she landed in front of it.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Tonks knocked insistently on the door, wanting nothing more than to get out of the cold. "Come on, you lazy bunch! Let me in!"

"Hold on, miss!" a voice thick with the Romanian accent called out cheerfully. "You do not want to wake dragons!"

Tonks backed away from the door and crossed her arms, waiting impatiently for the door to slide open. The gravel screeched and scratched under the door, making little less noise than Tonks had made banging on it. "I wouldn't suppose you have a Floo here, do you? I think I need to give Scrimgeour a piece of my mind."

"We have Floo system, yes. We are not allowed to use it, unless there is emergency," the older man said. "My name is Decebal Spirlea. You must be Auror from London."

"Wotcher, Decebal! I have been sent by the British Ministry of Magic to aid in the protection of the dragons at this facility!" She winked at him. "Don't worry about all of the official Ministry talk. Scrimgeour told me to say all of that. You can call me Tonks!"

"No problems," Decebal asserted and turned away from her. "Follow me. I will lead you to sleeping quarters. I hope you do not mind my language. I have been in service many years, but still have little trouble with English."

Tonks grinned at him. "Do I look like the kind of person who corrects grammar mistakes? Of course not, Decebal," she assured. "You don't spend too much time with house-elves, do you? You have nothing on their bad speaking skills, and those elves have been listening to us speak for hundreds and thousands of years!"

Decebal relaxed and smiled politely. "Romanians don't have house-elves, Tonks," he said cautiously, as if he were taking his first step into the water. "Those elves are native to England and such."

She looked around the spotless hall curiously. "Then who does the cleaning?"

"Now there is silly question! Who does cleaning in England if there are no house-elves?"

"We do."

"Well, that is your answer, Tonks! Romanians learn discipline," he said, slapping one of his hands into the other emphatically.

Laughing at his firmness, Tonks nodded. "Does Charlie have to do his share of the cleaning, then?"

Decebal nodded. "He does, and you will too. You can have ground floor!" He pushed her toward one of the doors and finished, "Because this is where you will stay."

The sun shone down into her face hours later, waking Tonks from her slumber. She had been exhausted earlier after flying for the better part of the night, but she had a feeling none of her new mates would mind very much. Especially not Charlie, Tonks remembered his preference remained outdoors. Whether he was with Professor Grubby-Plank or on the Quidditch Pitch, he loved being close to nature and away from the stuffy classrooms and homework. Granted, she didn't know too much about the others, but she had two sources who told her this bunch would be accepting.

Hurriedly jumping out of bed and changing outfits, she ran out into the hall. It was covered with muddy (or what she certainly hoped was mud) tracks, and her mouth dropped open in horror. "Bloody hell," she breathed.

::: ::: :::

After she was done with the cleaning, Tonks wandered outdoors for little more than half an hour before she ran into Charlie Weasley himself, tending carefully to one of the dragons with a rather small brush when compared to the size of that monstrous being—and then again, he was a rather short breed himself. She grinned, leaning against one of the evergreens, and watched him. Tonks would never understand how dragon-keepers gained enough courage to engage in direct contact with the dragons. She could face many Dark witches and wizards in her lifetime, she thought absently, but none of them came close to frightening her as much as the dragons did. This, of course, made her want to kill Rufus Scrimgeour even more than she already did.

When Tonks focused herself again, she found Charlie turned away from the dragon and staring directly at her. Tonks startled, and he grinned. "Hi Tonks," Charlie said. He set down the dragon brush, wiped his hands against his pants, and walked over to her. "When did you get here?"

"This morning—I would have been here sooner had my idiot of a guide actually shown me where to go." She rolled her eyes. "I think Scrimgeour set it up. He hates me." The feeling is definitely mutual, she thought.

"I was hoping you would get here by today! If you hadn't, you would have missed out on the celebration." Tonks tilted her head. "Follow me," he ordered, then grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the research center without letting her to respond in the first place.

"What about the dragon? Shouldn't you—"

Charlie shook his head. "That dragon can't get out. I know what I'm doing, Tonks." She followed him all the way through the building, which was all very plain, until they got to the very last room on the second floor. The door was ornately decorated with Sickles attached to red-and-white strings. Charlie opened the door, leading her into a similarly-decorated room, which was filled with all of the dragon-keepers at the facility. "It's the first of March," explained Charlie, though it meant little to Tonks. "The Romanians celebrate Mărţişor by exchanging talismans, like this one." He pulled out a silver Sickle tied to a red-and-white piece of string and gave it to her. "The rest of us respect their customs, and it means we have a day off, so it's a win-win situation! It's also especially important to the wizarding world this year, since there's a war going on, and all of the research staff are members of the Order." Tonks pinned the talisman to her robes. "It's supposed to bring power and luck through the year. We need all of that we can get, you know."

Tonks nodded. "Thank you, Charlie. Maybe I shouldn't be upset with old Scrimgeour after all."

"Oh, by all means, he deserves it. I'm sure he's never even heard of this holiday!"

She sighed. "I should have known. I guess he's simply incompetent about his research."

"If he researched it at all!"

"You're probably right," Tonks laughed.

::: ::: :::

Tonks stayed in Romania for a couple of months, helping with the chores around the center and getting over her fear of dragons, before her skills as an Auror were truly needed. Romania, and Transylvania in particular, were noted for their association with vampires. Unfortunately, Voldemort won over the support of them by announcing a new set of supposed regulations if he won control of the Ministry. Tonks never learned what exactly those regulations were, but vampires were protected pretty well by the Ministry in the first place and she could only guess the sort of liberties Voldemort promised them. She felt rather sorry for them, since they had a horrid reputation, but most were just incredibly rude
with due reason, she figured, since they were some of the most hated creatures) and limited their diet to blood-flavored lollipops.

When the vampires attack the research center in May, Tonks blamed their unpreparedness on a remarkable lack of garlic. Vampires were deathly vulnerable to only two things: garlic and wood. Magic could hold them off for a while, but the Killing Curse had no effect on them. The bunch of them were fighting them off for little more than an hour before Tonks realized something she should have thought of at the beginning. The entire fucking facility was surrounded by wood.

She grabbed Charlie from the fray, yanking him off into the forest. "We have to get wood from the trees!" she said. "Break off whatever little pieces you can." As she dug her fingers into the trunk of a tree, which she suddenly knew could be quite painful, she continued talking. "I'd prefer longer and sturdier pieces, of course, to get nearer to their heart, but we learned in Auror training that a little allergy can go a long way. I think they'll break into hives at first, but if they don't get medical attention soon, their skin will start melting off. This kind of thing is illegal, though, but maybe it's not in Romania."

God, she babbled when she was nervous. Tonks turned and ran back into the facility, carrying several long pieces of wood and several dozen smaller pieces of various sizes. Charlie hustled after her.

::: ::: :::

Lying in the enlarged hospital wing of the research center, Tonks felt miserable. She now had the flu along with the injuries she sustained during the battle, including scratched-up fingers and broken nails from the trees. The vampires had been rather vicious, biting and scratching with long, sharp nails whenever possible. All of them suffered from some minor damage, though none of them had anything more serious than a broken bone or two. Most of the vampires fled from the battle after seeing several of their comrades fall victim to the wood's curse, allowing them to take care of the rest. Charlie had been the first to locate the fireplace and get into contact with the Ministry for medical care.

Now Charlie sat at her bedside, staring at her with a grin just like the first time he saw her at the facility. "What are you staring at?" she grumbled irritably.

"We have been invited to a very special Weasley dinner in July. I'm not sure what it is, but Bill says that he has a surprise to share with everyone."

"That's good. Does that mean I'm staying in Romania until then, or do I get to go back home?"

Charlie blinked. "Well, I thought you might want to stay here. I mean, besides the fighting and colds and all, you seemed to be enjoying yourself." Seeing his hurt expression, Tonks sighed, knowing she would be staying for another two months. "I'll stay. Damned Romanian climate and all."

I'm going to kill you, Rufus Scrimgeour.

Finis.

The Chimaera Phenomenon, PG-13 [Prologue]

2008-02-02T18:56:21Z

Title: The Chimaera Phenomenon
Author: Alethia N. M. Black
Rating: PG-13 (for now)
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Warnings: Alternative universe, homosexual and heterosexual relationships, original characters, violence, language, hurt/comfort, minor and major character death, and male and female pregnancy
Genre: Drama/Romance
Summary: It happens when old magic flares open in a young wizard's veins and causes his entire life to change due to a bizarre twist of fate, and it has come to be known as the Chimaera Phenomenon.
Word Count: 1,149 words
Author’s Note: This contains more subversion of canon. Even though it starts in the summer before seventh year, the sixth book will be discounted. Well, not discounted—more like some details will change drastically, like those little parts that have Ginny kissing Harry in them.

::: ::: :::

The Chimaera Phenomenon

by Alethia N. M. Black

::: ::: :::

PROLOGUE

"The chimera is best known as the terrible beast of legend. However, there is another magical creature that bears no resemble to that horrible beast, but is often mistaken for that creature because of the similarities in their names. The Chimaera looks like a perfectly human male, although these males will have traits that are uncommon for human males, but not entirely unlikely; the Chimaera will be small in stature, will have a feminine pattern of hair growth, and will have a subtle softness in facial structure similar to (but not as evident as) a female face. As some males obtain these traits naturally, there is no definite way to distinguish them until the day of their Inheritance, unless the creature is exposed to a Veela. A Veela who has been trained in the proper manner will recognize them as their 'cousin.' The Veela and the Chimaera will have a close familial relationship. If the Veela has not been trained to recognize the Chimaera, the Veela will still become close to the Chimaera; however, the Veela will remain unaware of the reason. The relationship between the Chimaera and Veela, however close, is unable to become romantic, because the bestial instincts in both will reject the combination, thus making the Chimaera impervious to the Veela's charm.

"On the Chimaera's seventeenth birthday, known as their Inheritance (as with many other magical creatures), the dormant magic will become active and flow into the Chimaera's veins. The 'magical flare' and its aftermath will cause the Chimaera excruciating pain. The flare creates several changes in the Chimaera's body. The organs of the abdominal area will "shift" (as the process is commonly called in the community), causing the Chimaera extra discomfort, in order to form a womb and ovaries; the fallopian tubes then attach themselves to the lower rectum as well.

"Healers and magicians (scientists of magical theory) have studied and researched the Chimaera Phenomenon for centuries; none have found a reasonable explanation for the event. Since there have never been more than three Chimaeras alive in the same time-frame, the Chimaeras are hard to observe. However, magicians have recorded data from twelve Chimaeras over the course of five hundred years. Out of the twelve, six were susceptible to the advances of men and women, three others were solely attracted to women, one was exclusively attracted to men, and two avoided the question. The Chimaeras are notoriously promiscuous, although several have been observed with one mate for life (not unlike their Veela cousins). Due to the additional parts, Chimaeras are the only documented sources of male pregnancy. Four Chimaeras became pregnant in their lifetimes; two of the four Chimaeras survived the birthing process and three babies grew up as normal children.

"For more information on Chimaeras, check out the following: The Chimaera Phenomenon by Millicent Pudgewiggins, Magical Flares by Ambrose Trottsworth, The Chimaera: Not a Beast of Legend by Belle Delacour, and Chimaeras: the Active and Fertile Hermaphrodite by Wendy Smith."

- Excerpt from Fantastical Beasts: The Extended Version, Rolf Scamander.

::: ::: :::

At midnight, the pain rushed through his body, jerking him out of sleep and into a world of pure agony. For several long moments, he was unable to comprehend his surroundings, wrapped in a dizzying haze of pain. He opened his eyes, focusing on the clock as the fog stirred from his eyes. It was a terrific start to his seventeenth birthday, he thought. He knew better than to expect perfection while he resided with the Dursleys, but he somehow thought he might be able to get through this one without being tortured. And what the Hell happened to him at midnight in the first place?

"Agh," he moaned, drawing himself into the foetal position. Harry clutched his stomach in pain, grimacing as he felt his stomach shift, as though something were moving inside of him. He vaguely heard a crash outside of his door before white splashes of light flashed before his eyes and he fell into darkness.

::: ::: :::

When Harry drifted into consciousness some few hours later, in the dead of night, he heard the soft murmuring of voices around him. Dudley poked him with a pudgy little finger, and Harry had to fight the urge to swat it away. "I can't believe he's dead," he whispered, sounding slightly panicked. "They'll blame it on us, you know, for killing him. Who knows what those freaks will do to us?"

Aunt Petunia's sickeningly sweet voice followed, "He's not dead, Dudley. He fainted."

"Such a pity, too," Uncle Vernon grumbled bitterly.

Harry groaned, raised his arms, with more effort than he felt should have been necessary, and opened his eyes. The pain, although spread sporadically throughout his body, was centered insistently in his head, particularly around his temples. The dim light from the flashlights seemed like the sun in its intensity, pounding behind his eyes. All in all, nothing felt out of place on his body, and perhaps everything was normal now. If he discounted the fainting and the pain he was feeling, Harry might have thought he had a strange dream.

"What the Hell happened to you?"

"I don't know," he answered, his voice thick with pain.

Uncle Vernon snorted derisively. "Of course he doesn't know what's wrong. He's one of their kind, and he doesn't even see anything wrong with that. It's unnatural! God only knows what kind of freaky magic he's been getting into at that school of his."

"Oh, be quiet, won't you, Vernon? I'm sure it's not like that. Look at him! He's really sickly," Aunt Petunia scolded. "He might be one of them," she continued, "but he's still my sister's son, my nephew, and we have to take care of him."

Blinking rapidly for a few seconds and moving his arms, Harry focused on his aunt's face. He never expected to hear of such compassion from her, but she seemed wrapped up in guilt. Maybe she finally realized that he was supposed to be part of her family.

Uncle Vernon turned purple in the face, while Dudley stared at his mother for a few seconds before he looked down at the floor. "Petunia, he's a—"

"He's family," she yelled. Harry cringed. "I'm sorry, Harry." He knew at that moment she was talking about more than just her loud noise, and he figured that was the best apology he was going to get from a family who hated to admit they were wrong.

"Me too," muttered Dudley. "I mean, you did save my life and everything. You can't be all bad."

Uncle Vernon remained stubbornly silent and stormed out of the room, snarling something about freaks under his breath as he went.

"Well," she said, shifting awkwardly. "You just rest for the rest of the day, Harry, until those people come to get you. You've already got your things packed, right?" He nodded. "Good."

As his aunt and cousin left the room, Harry nestled into his pillow and stared at Hedwig, who twittered at him. "I know, girl. I never expected it either."

Finis.

by any other name, PG-13

2008-02-02T04:14:12Z

Title: by any other name
Author: Alethia N. M. Black
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Warnings: Character deaths
Genre: General
Summary: Harry James Potter will never have a normal life.
Word Count: 1,404 words
Author’s Note: This is almost an entire subversion of canon. There is an additional warning that I will not reveal. I will simply apologize in advance for those who do not like, but it is meant to be a surprise to everyone, including the characters. Also there is a direct quote from J. K. Rowling in the form of the prophecy.

::: ::: :::

by any other name

by Alethia N. M. Black

::: ::: :::

Unknown to all of the witches and wizards of the world, Fate was a fickle mistress. She was never predictable and seldom kept her promises. Those who were smart distrusted her and her constant companions, the seers. To those smart people, seers were self-important fools who believed that, just because their intuition predicted the correct outcome once in a while, they were trusted with Fate's secrets. Fate trusted no one. More importantly, Fate had a propensity for revenge; and when she saw arrogant people making a mockery of her work, Fate loved to play games.

Sybill Trelawney made Fate especially angry. She spewed false prophecies to all who would listen - or sometimes, even to those who would not. She relied upon the stars, tea leaves, crystal balls - all physical mediums. Inanimate objects knew nothing of her future! Fate gifted only the human heart and brain with the ability to predict the future. And so, Fate decided to punish her. She would allow this women her moment of fame and glory; she would predict the downfall of the most powerful wizard ever, but Fate would lead her to the wrong child and Trelawney, in turn, would place the fate (excuse her pun) of the Wizarding World upon the wrong boy!

Fate smiled and Sybill Trelawney's crystal ball twinkled brightly as she sat in front of Albus Dumbledore.

::: ::: :::

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... And the Dark Lord will mark him as equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... And either must die at the hands of the other for neither can live while the other survives..."

::: ::: :::

Lily smiled comfortably, resting her entire weight against James as he caressed the rather large bump of her pregnant stomach. Her little boy, according to the mediwitches at St Mungo's, was reasonably behaved inside her stomach. He rarely kicked or moved around, which would have worried her but for the fact that he kicked whenever she did magic. A little swish-and-flick of her wand made little Harry wriggle around so much that she could hardly leave the loo for the next hour. After all, Lily used the loo frequently in the first place; using magic for Harry made it that much worse. She knew how horrible a pregnancy could be though; she was lucky. Alice Longbottom, one of her best friends in the world, had the most horrible time. She was in the hospital weekly for check-ups to make sure her blood pressure and blood sugar remained at healthy levels, she suffered from nausea each day for months, and she had the energy of a sloth!

Both of them had the most wonderful husbands in the world as well. Frank and James were known for their callous, unthinking moments, but she and Alice loved them all the same. One time, Lily overheard the two of them talking. James said, "Lily has the most horrible temper! She's good at Charms, you know; she had me on the other half of a Tickling Charm for an hour."

Frank laughed and replied, "I'm sure Alice would be the same way, but she's too tired to get angry!"

After subjecting both of them to an hour under the Tickling Charm, though she was sure Alice would have loved to punish Frank herself, Lily never heard another word about her bad temper from either of them.

::: ::: :::

"It's a healthy baby girl, Mrs Potter!" Healer Smethwyck smiled brightly at her as he allowed James to cut through the crying baby's umbilical cord. Lily took her little girl from the healer's hands in shock, cradling her in her arms. For the past four months, she was under the impression her baby would be a little boy, and now she held the most beautiful baby girl in her arms. There were all ten fingers, all ten toes, and a little nose.

Lily looked at the healer, panicked. "We were told our baby would be a boy. We haven't even looked at names for girls!"

James came around to her side and squeezed her shoulder. "Don't worry about it, Lily. We can always wait to name her. A lot of parents end up doing it."

She stared down at her baby. Her baby stared back up at her with eyes identical to her own. "No," Lily murmured. "You are my little Harry, aren't you? I can't just decide to name you something else because you're a girl." Harry giggled happily. "What do you think, James?"

He grinned at her. "If that's what you think will make her happiest, then let's do it." James leaned down to kiss them both on the head. "Besides, why wouldn't she want to have my name?" He preened.

"You arrogant git," she retorted, laughing.

::: ::: :::

"Frank, Alice, I believe that the two of you need to chose a Secret Keeper for the Fidelius Charm. Neville is in grave danger from Voldemort due to the prophecy. You are much too vulnerable without absolute secrecy." Dumbledore stood in the kitchen of the Longbottom household in late October, holding a small slip of parchment in his hand.

Alice glanced fearfully to her husband. "What are you talking about? Is this why no one has seen Lily and James in months?"

"I'm afraid so. I fear for the safety of both families, of course, but you must pay heed to the prophecy. I am now positive that Neville is the one." He handed them the slip of parchment, which held the contents of the prophecy. Frank glared down at it before turning his gaze to Dumbledore.

"How long have you had this?"

Dumbledore sighed. "The prophecy has been in my possession for little more than a year, but that is not the point! You must protect the safety of yourself and your child. Pick a Secret Keeper! Remember, it must be someone you trust with your life."

Frank ran a hand through his hair. "Well, Dorcas is your best friend, Alice. We can trust her."

"Yes... Wouldn't she be a little obvious though? Besides, she's still shaken about her Death Eater abduction in May. What about Peter Pettigrew? He's engaged to Dorcas, so we can surely trust him too!" Alice smiled hopefully up at her husband."

He grinned at her. "That's a wonderful idea, sweetheart! We'll perform the charm in the morning, isn't that right, Albus?"

Nodding, Dumbledore adjusted his glasses. "I'll inform Peter of your recommendation immediately. I'm sure he'll be pleased."

::: ::: :::

Bellatrix grinned triumphantly as she circled James, who stood suspended in air, staring reproachfully down at her. "How does it feel, little Auror, to know that our Lord is upstairs with your wife and your little baby girl, doing whatever he wants with them?"

"You and Voldemort are disgusting," he spat in her face.

The back of her hand connected with his face, followed by the sound of her whispering angrily, "How dare you speak the Dark Lord's name? A filthy blood-traitor like you!"

"Voldemort is no better than we are! Voldemort is the scum of the Earth," James continued defiantly.

Bellatrix laughed insanely as she backed away from him. "You have no idea what you're talking about, ickle James Potter. So naive." She held out her wand. "I'll teach you who the real scum is. Cruc--!" And an agonized scream rang merrily through her ears. Her eyes widened fearfully as she stared at the silent James. "What did that little wench of yours do?"

"Avada Kedavra!" she finished maliciously without a second thought to torturing him and ran upstairs to her Lord. The Dark Lord was nowhere to be found in the little room, but Lily Potter remained curled protectively around her little girl, a little girl with a lightning bolt scar on her forehead. Bellatrix raised her wand to the little girl, but she knew the fate her Lord had suffered. She lowered her wand and fled from the Potters' household.

::: ::: :::

Petunia Dursley yawned greatly as she opened the door on that Monday morning. As she stepped out onto her doorstep, she stretched, and then looked down peculiarly at her feet. Petunia gazed at the little girl lying on her doorstep, wrapped in a bundle of blankets with a small letter attached to it. From Albus Dumbledore to Petunia Dursley, she read, and her good mood turned immediately soured.

Finis.

THE GREATEST DISCOVERY SINCE DNA, IT IS HERE

2008-01-31T04:37:24Z

[23:16] thewlisian_afer: lulz, I wrote a little bit of House/Wilson earlier today. I hadn't done that in a long time.
[23:17] caretta: Wow. That's awesome. *high-fives* XD I haven't written House/Wilson at all.
[23:18] thewlisian_afer: Well, I write Wilson lots! I just tend to write gen. Or if I go the shippy route, I use Cameron. Most of the time even my House/Wilson has some Cameron in it.
[23:19] thysiastery: Blasphemy! And you call yourself a Hilson fan! XDDD carettaGod, I hate those pairing names.)
[23:21] thewlisian_afer: Doesn't the House fandom have the most horrible pairing names? XD OMG. Huddy, Hameron, Hilson... gtfo. I'll stick with H/C, H/Cam and H/W if I feel the need to abbreviate, thanks. hahahaha
[23:22] thewlisian_afer: And OMG, Wuddy and Wameron for teh grrlz with Wilson instead of House are even worse. wtf. No. Stoppit.
[23:22] caretta: I just realized if Hameron were Homeron... it would sound such much like 'home run' - IT MUST BE TWU LUV!
[23:23] caretta: so much*
[23:23] thewlisian_afer: lmao
[23:24] thewlisian_afer: Never ever say anything like that around house_cameron. They will not LOL. They will take it seriously and make it their new number one reason why everyone should support their ship.
[23:26] caretta: O_O Oh noez! I swear, it's like the new Harry/Hermione. *dies* and House/Cuddy is like the new Ron/Hermione. The crazy shippers exist with every fandom. XD
[23:29] caretta: ... Wait a minute. Does that make House the new Hermione? XDDDD
[23:30] thewlisian_afer: lulz, IT FITS. THEY ARE BOTH THE MAJOR SUE OF THEIR 'VERSE.
[23:30] caretta: WE MUST SHARE THIS DISCOVERY WITH THE WORLD! WE WILL BE THE NEXT WATSON AND CRICK, I TELL YOU!
[23:31] caretta: *waddles off to post conversation in journal*

House = Hermione. All must bow down before this infallible logic! If House = Hermione, House/Cameron = Hermione/Harry, and House/Cuddy = Hermione/Ron, then that means Harry = Cameron and Ron = Cuddy.

... I should never apply math to fandom ever ever again. XD

resquiescat in pace, heath ledger.

2008-01-23T02:24:50Z

Heath Ledger, as most of you have heard from other friends by now, is dead at 28. He was the last member of Hollywood I would have expected to die. He has a young child at home. The Dark Knight is coming out soon. I was looking forward to the movie and my heart fluttered upon hearing his devious tone. Unfortunately, this movie feels like a punch in the gut, because it's been reported as the reason for the insomnia and sleeping pills in the first place. I have a feeling I'd break down into tears each time the Joker appeared on screen.

I'm hoping the death will be ruled accidental, because I cannot see him as a person to commit suicide at all. This has been a fine week for young celebrity deaths.

R.I.P., Heath and Brad.

P.S. I loved you in A Knight's Tale and I've always wanted to see more of your serious roles. You will be missed, by your family and friends, and your fans. ♥

Reference: Class List for '91-'98

2008-01-10T09:52:39Z

Through utilization of Rowling notebook and the HP Lexicon, I have compiled a possible list of students for Harry's years. These are the names used in fics of mine.

Gryffindor	Hufflepuff	Ravenclaw	Slytherin
Harry Potter Ronald Weasley Seamus Finnigan Dean Thomas Neville Longbottom	Ernie Macmillan Justin Finch-Fletchley Wayne Hopkins Zacharias Smith Andrew Stebbins	Terry Boot Michael Corner Stephen Cornfoot Kevin Entwhistle Anthony Goldstein	Draco Malfoy Blaise Zabini Theodore Nott Vincent Crabbe Gregory Goyle
Hermione Granger Lavender Brown Parvati Patil Sophia Roper Marissa Runcorn	Hannah Abbott Susan Bones Megan Jones Sally-Anne Perks Lilith Moon	Mandy Brocklehurst Su Li Morag McDougal Padma Patil Lisa Turpin	Pansy Parkinson Millicent Bulstrode Daphne Greengrass Tracey Davis Quirina Rivers

The February Baptism, PG

2008-01-09T22:23:28Z

Title: The February Baptism
Author: Alethia N. M. Black
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Warnings: Character deaths
Genre: General
Summary: Daphne relates with her house, her family, and her school.
Word Count: 2,046
Author’s Note: I have a self-made class list from Rowling's notebook, so if you're confused by the names, then that might explain it.

::: ::: :::

The February Baptism

by Alethia N. M. Black

::: ::: :::

“True human goodness, in all its purity and freedom, can come to the fore only when its recipient has no power.”
- Milan Kundera

Daphne stared at her house mates from the comfy chair in the corner of the common room, as she had grown used to (and perhaps even fond of) doing in her years at Hogwarts. Her fellow Slytherins gathered in the common room quite often, curling around each other so tightly that all of them suffocated in their own way. She loved it, but—God!—how she hated it. Pansy was the basilisk, the queen, of Slytherins; she coiled around as many of them as she could and stared down at them until they could struggle no more. But Daphne, she had a mirror. Daphne could still see how their queen's tail shook and quivered each time she left the familiarity of the common room, her safety net, and her heart burned as she compared that image with the one before her.

Pansy stood confidently under the portrait of Salazar Slytherin; it seemed like she had spent hours perfecting a replica of his disgusted sneer in front of a mirror, for she looked down upon Tracey Davis as though she were not worthy enough to kiss the bottoms of her robes. "It is half-bloods like you that make Millicent so ashamed of her heritage, Davis."

A dramatic sigh came from another corner of the room, as Theodore Nott glanced up from his books and glared at her. "If you would please shut up, Parkinson, and not start this shit now, some of us would like to pass Potions through intelligence instead of bias."

Not bothering to hide her smile, Daphne waited for an explosion that never came as Draco Malfoy laid his hand on Pansy's arm and dragged her over to his chair, muttering comforting words at her. Those two were the best of friends, though Daphne thought it was physically impossible, as it was hard enough to fit each of their heads into the room on their own. Surprisingly, each had a sobering influence over the other. Draco and Pansy were like old friends who had gone through too many hardships together and the mere presence of one brought back memories better forgotten. Daphne wanted to dismiss that idea quickly, though, because the Malfoys and Parkinsons were privileged families. What kind of hardships could those two have possibly gone through? Nevertheless, it was a good friendship, if only for the sake of their company being spared the tirades of queens.

Millicent glanced apologetically at Tracey and shrugged. It was a suitable apology, for now.

::: ::: :::

No matter what situation she was in, Pansy lashed out. She insulted people wherever she went, whether she was in the Slytherin common room or she was in the Great Hall. She denounced all of the Gryffindor girls quickly: Hermione Granger was an "ugly know-it-all", while Lavender and Parvati were "brainless twits". She worked her way through their year until she had insulted every one of them, even going so far as to insult them to their face. It drove Daphne to insanity at times. Daphne wished she could dull her sharp tongue—or cut it out entirely!

When Pansy offered to give up Harry Potter to save herself, though, Daphne decided she had gone much too far. Daphne walked with a constricted heart as she and the rest of Slytherin evacuated Hogwarts, Slughorn leading the pack of them and talking about reinforcements. She gripped the hand of her younger sister. "Astoria, you know Mother and Father won't support this. I need to get to the Owlery and use Erasmus to contact Uncle Laurence."

Astoria nodded with an unexpected fire burning in her eyes. Daphne's heart warmed with love for her sister. "I know what to do."

As Daphne lagged behind the giant crowd of Slytherins, she heard the fading sounds of her sister verbally attacking Pansy Parkinson. "How dare you decide the fate of Slytherin, you pug-faced bitch? You speak for none of us, and I'm tired of sitting behind the crowd as you hurt your fellow Slytherins!"

Daphne turned away from the rest of them and quickly rushed to the West Tower, feeling the adrenalin push her tired feet to their limit. She needed to help the rest of her school, because she knew the rest of the Slytherins would be attacked if the Dark Lord won. She wished Pansy could understand how unwelcoming the Dark Lord would be since she did not help him in the war. Granted, she tried to help him, but what good are attempts to someone with everything to lose?

The lack of people in the West Tower surprised her, but after she thought about it, Daphne was pretty sure none of the Death Eaters would run around, screaming "Get the owls, get the owls!" She could be wrong. Merlin knew how insane some of them can be. "Erasmus," she called anxiously to her tawny owl. Normally, families of their high status would have bought something expensive and showy, but the Greengrass family used their wealth to get more wealth—and, in time, standing and power. Now that both the Malfoys and Parkinsons had fallen, Daphne was positive her family was the highest-standing, Pureblood family.

Erasmus hooted and scratched his foot against his perch. There was an empty spot next to him, which perplexed Daphne as the rest of the room looked uncomfortably tight. "What's wrong, Erie?" He ruffled his feathers and tucked his head into the fluffy bunch of them. Unfortunately, Daphne failed to understand his body language. "Fine, don't answer me. I need you to deliver a message—shit! I don't have a quill and parchment," she moaned. Her stupidity astounded! Daphne dropped down to the floor, unmindful of the straw, owl droppings, and skeletons that lined it. "What am I supposed to do now?" She buried her face in her hands.

Erie flew down from the perch to Daphne's left shoulder and nipped at her ear. He hooted softly several times until she looked at him. In his eyes, Daphne saw a striking understanding she had never seen before. "Get Uncle Laurence here—any way you can, do you understand? Do whatever it takes!" Erie flew out of the Owlery without another look at her.

::: ::: :::

"What the Hell did you do to that bird?" her uncle hissed after he stomped up beside her. "He just flies right through the window—very stupid, by the way, it could have been closed—and starts pecking, pecking at me! I have skin missing because that bird tried to pull me all the way to Hogwarts." Daphne smiled at her Uncle Laurence, always the most hot-tempered member of her family. "What're you smilin' at, you little Devil? I bet you told the bird to do it, too. Making me Apparate to Hogsmeade and then walk to Hogwarts," he grumbled, rubbing at his arm.

Daphne lunged forward and wrapped her arms around his waist, hugging tight. "How did you know to come here?"

"Well, I didn't know, but I had a feeling. There are only so many places you'd be during the school year." Uncle Laurence grinned, patting the back of her head. "I'm not that stupid, you know."

"Yeah, I know." She straightened from her hug, looking him directly in his eyes. "Listen," she said, her voice grave. "We need your help. Our parents refuse to fight, but you—we knew you'd help! You're our only hope!"

Uncle Laurence laughed. "I'm not your only hope, Daphne. Hogwarts has many allies, but how could I refuse a good fight?" He winked.

Her green eyes twinkled with happiness as she grabbed his hand, squeezing for just a moment. "Follow me."

::: ::: :::

When the battle was over, Astoria, Daphne, and Uncle Laurence huddled in the midst of the other Slytherins, only separated from the Death Eaters, who were running and scattered, and the Malfoys, who had edged into their own corner of the battlefield. The three of them were covered in blood and dirt, extremely tired, but proud—of themselves, of their house, and of their school. The Slytherins had done their part. In the Battle of Hogwarts, the Slytherins proved themselves to be more than just the house of evil. They had self-preservation skills, resourcefulness, bravery, and, most of all, loyalty to their house and their school.

Astoria stared across the battlefield at the Malfoys and nudged her sister. "Shouldn't we get them to come over?"

Daphne glanced over at the family, curled around each other in a loving embrace, and shook her head. "Let them be. They deserve their peace."

"An' so do we," Uncle Laurence mumbled, leaning into Daphne's shoulder. She smiled.

"Go to sleep, Laurie."

"Don' call me tha'," he muttered, already halfway asleep.

::: ::: :::

Both Astoria and Daphne returned to Hogwarts when it was reopened. Daphne felt rather lonely as a seventh year at Hogwarts, because few of her year had returned, let alone those in her house. Draco spent as much time with his family as possible, Pansy dared not show her face in a public forum, Crabbe was dead, Goyle was in Azkaban, Millicent remained loyal to Pansy (and she never liked school much anyway), and Quirina Rivers and Tracey Davis tragically died in the Battle. The only ones who had returned to Hogwarts with her were Theodore and Blaise. Theodore posed no surprise; he was the most intellectual of the Slytherins, forcing himself to get through without the preference of his professors. "Do not doubt me, though," she remembered Theodore saying. "If I need an extra favor in a particular course, I will not refuse the boost, but I want to learn for myself."

Blaise, however, had been stricken by the war. As each month passed under the Carrows, Blaise grew more quiet, solemn, and close to Tracey. While his views on Muggleborns and half-bloods changed dramatically, he was heartbroken when he found Tracey dead and he had been in a deep depression ever since. Daphne befriended him as much as she could, but he was much too sullen now. According to Blaise, he realized how shallow he had been when he thought his blood status and good looks would get him a well-paying job. "Tracey would have been proud if she could see you like this," she told him to no reaction.

Most of their year consisted of the surviving Ravenclaws; Hermione Granger and Sophia Roper made up the ranks of Gryffindor; and Ernie Macmillan, Zacharias Smith, Hannah Abbott, and Megan Jones returned as Hufflepuffs. It was a lonely sixteen compared to the forty of the previous years.

After the year ended, Daphne started a comfortable job with Hermione Granger in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures as the Head of the Goblin Liaison Office.

::: ::: :::

"Elizabeth, Jasper: Get down here right this minute!" Daphne glared at the top of the stairs at her two children, who looked sheepishly back at her. "What did I tell you about using Daddy's wand as a toy?"

Theodore placed a hand on her shoulder. "Calm down, honey, you know they didn't mean any harm."

She glanced sideways at him, and then at his hand. "Honey, our kids are almost old enough to start Hogwarts. I think it's time for them to learn that wands are not toys!"

"Well, your sister's Scorpius didn't learn that until he was 13 and his nose grew bigger than Snape's."

Daphne sighed. "So you would rather have our children learn not to do something by doing it? What kind of twisted logic does that follow, Theo?"

"It happens to work very well! Of course, it could be dangerous, but we know how to handle them. We'll provide them with the right situations. We'll lock them up in their room for twenty-four hours with our wands. When they come out, they'll either be dead, horribly disfigured, or perfectly fine, if not a bit averse to wands."

She buried her face in her palm and shook her head. "Sometimes I wonder why I thought you'd be a good father."

Her husband grinned, tilted up her head, and kissed the corner of her mouth. "It's because I'm brilliant."

"Too bad our children are idiots."

Finis.

DID I?, PG

2008-01-02T22:24:38Z

Title: DID I?
Author: Alethia N. M. Black
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Warnings: Mental illness
Genre: General
Summary: Tonks suffers with Dissociative Identity Disorder. How does this affect her life?
Word Count: 1,082
Author’s Note: This came from a prompt for wizard_trauma. It came right on the tail of the Myrtle piece and I did not fight such a blessing of inspiration.

DID I?

When I was just a small child, I always knew there was something not quite right with me. For the most part, I went through what normal children went through, but it seemed like the effect it had on me was much greater than it was on them. I suppose you could call it sensitivity, if it hadn't caused my mind to break off into little fucking pieces.

My name is Nymphadora Tonks (but don't you dare call me Nymphadora) and I have Dissociative Identity Disorder. Like I said before, I always knew something was off, but I never knew what until about six months ago. What I did know was that I would hear voices at random times (not telling me what to do, mind you; that's something entirely different), periods of time were filled with fog where I didn't know what happened (kind of like I'd been practicing Divination again, yikes), and I did things I had no recollection of doing.

I think I feel worse for my husband than I do for myself in this situation. Remus absolutely refuses to let me go in order to find another suitable girl for him to marry. "That would be the easy way out," he tells me. Of course, a Gryffindor would would never take the easy way out. This is much more than easy and hard, though. Remus and I have a son together. What is Teddy supposed to do when Mommy starts acting like a three-year-old girl who cries for help?

I've been talking to a therapist who specializes in Legilimency for those who can't see well enough into their own mind. My old therapist admitted right off he was not qualified to work with a patient like me and he recommended me to this one. She has been an absolute saint for sticking with me for six months. I've attacked her character as a therapist by having fits of paranoia, believing she would call St Mungo's to get me at any given time. "It'll be any day now, just you wait," my mind whispered to me. I've changed right before her eyes into a different person entirely. She knows more about me than I know about myself, I think, but there's no way to weigh that. She has been to parts of my mind I've never been allowed.

After six months of intense observation and mind-searching, I learned all of the names and personalities of those on the inside. There are five of them. The first alter is named Elle; she is a three-year-old girl who cries for a mother who never comes back. Elle is a cute little girl with curly blonde hair and blue eyes. The second one is Jack, a seven-year-old boy who wants nothing more than an endless adventure and lifetime of fun. He is a little brat with brown hair and eyes; he tends to look excited and ready for anything. The third one is Ophelia; she is an emotional eleven-year-old girl who writes poetry and draws pictures. Ophelia has limp, red hair and green eyes filled with sadness. The fourth alter is named Lindsey; it has no sex, but all it wants to do is fuck everything in sight. Lindsey has purple hair and grey eyes. The last alter is named Nora, a drastically older woman who mothers the rest of the alters and Tonks herself. She has salt-and-pepper hair with light blue eyes.

Then there is me, of course, a 27-year-old wife and mother of one. I am one of the clumsiest Aurors you will ever meet, but I'm ready and willing to do anything it takes. Now I have to be responsible for not only the actions of my husband, my son, and myself, but the five other personalities who live inside of me.

***

Tonks snuggled comfortably into the arms of her husband as she cradled a yellow-haired Teddy in her own. She had control of her body and she finally felt at peace for the first time in days. She intended on keeping this feeling for as long as she could. Tonks also knew what she was doing. She was trying to deny that part of her life; as long she was nestled safely in Remus' loving arms, she would never allow one of the others to take her place. She could not phase out. In fact, she never had Dissociative Identity Disorder in the first place! Unfortunately, she knew none of those things were true.

All she could do was lie with him and pray--pray she did not change in his arms.

***

It has been three years since I first found out I had Dissociative Identity Disorder. The years have been hard and long, as I have had to reconcile with a past I could never remember without these alters. Elle is the only one who has gone, if these alters ever truly go away. I still feel remnants of her inside of me, but now it is just a dull ache where I remember a forgotten past of days where my mother disappeared for days at a time, giving no thought to the child who needed her. I still haven't confronted her about that, because I think that, once I do, Elle will be gone for good. My therapist tells me this might not be such a bad thing.

Right now, I'm working with Jack. He might be the most Gryffindor part of me. I rejected him when the Sorting Hat put me in Hufflepuff, so I would fit in with them more. I don't face rejection too well. That's just a theory, nothing solid yet!

Teddy is five years old now, so he's very much aware of what has been happening to his mother. I phased into Elle right before his eyes. He was amazed by the sight of his thirty-year-old mother taking on the appearance of someone his age. Alas, I still can't change height. It would be humiliating to change heights for each alter. Remus and Teddy are an awesome support system; they've researched the topic, talked with other people who have DID or know people with DID, and have learned how to help me cope with the changes I've gone through. I don't know what I would do without either of them. With them I've gotten past denial and moved onto responsibility.

After three years of learning how to accept the disorder itself, it might take three more to fully integrate myself.

Fin.

Out of Nothing (Comes Nothing), PG

2008-01-02T11:23:49Z

Title: Out of Nothing (Comes Nothing)
Author: Alethia N. M. Black
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Warnings: Character death
Genre: General
Summary: Myrtle deals with puberty and cruelty.
Author's Note: After working on this for days and restarting each time, I came up with the perfect way to tell the tale of Myrtle. Here it is.

***

Out of Nothing (Comes Nothing)

When Myrtle received her Hogwarts letter at the end of June 1943, she was devastated. In the midst of puberty, Myrtle thought she looked disgusting. No one would be her friend when she looked like this. She tried to talk to her mother, but she dismissed her entirely, and Myrtle did not want to speak with her father about how her widening hips made her fat and how her face broke out in the nastiest pimples one time each month. She was alone; no one cared about her at all. Even after she asked her mother for cosmetics to cover up the acne, she laughed cruelly. "Nothing could make you look better, Myrtle! Besides, we need to conserve those Galleons for something important."

Myrtle stood in front of her mirror and touched her thick-framed glasses delicately. Classmates teased her about those, too, when she got them three years ago; by now, she was used to that. She lifted her stomach, pinching each small roll of fat she saw; her face twisted with tears. She was ugly. She simply could not go to Hogwarts like this!

During August, all her mother could talk about was how much fun she would have at Hogwarts. "We can shop for the most fantastical things! Do you remember how much you loved going to Diagon Alley when you were younger?" Myrtle remembered her love of Diagon Alley all too well; she would stop in the middle of the street, slipping by her mother to talk to some interesting stranger she saw. She bewildered many young men and woman like that. Of course, she was also three at the time. "We'll have to get you a pet, too. What do you think of a frog? Those are the cheapest, I think. Owls are much too expensive for you to have one of your own - and who would you write to, anyway?"

"Mum, I don't want to go to Hogwarts!" she blurted out angrily.

Her mother laughed again. "What in Merlin's name are you talking about, darling? Of course, you want to go to Hogwarts! It's the best wizarding school there is. Your father and I went there—proud Ravenclaws, you know." Myrtle slumped in her chair. Her mother failed to listen to her again.

***

"First years come this way, please," called a sprightly, tall young man with brown hair and bright eyes. He reminded Myrtle, as she drew closer to him through the hoard of children, of those strangers to whom she would feel this magnetic pull. His aura screamed friendly to her, as hers whispered lonely back to it. When she reached him, he took her hand and Myrtle smiled as brightly as she had when she was three years old. "I'm Professor Kettleburn. I teach Care of Magical Creatures here at Hogwarts. I hope you'll take the class in your third year!"

Myrtle nodded. "I'll take any class if there are professors as nice as you there!" She blushed furiously, ducking her head to hide her embarrassment, but Kettleburn just laughed and squeezed her hand reassuringly.

"I'm flattered, surely." Kettleburn grinned. "Now, we're going to get into these little boats and row over to Hogwarts. If any of us get wet—well, it'll be worth it once you see the castle! Get four of you in one boat and start rowing!" As he helped Myrtle and their companions into the boat, he yelled again. "Oh, and watch out for any tentacles! The Giant Squid gets ornery when kids are crossing her lake."

Most them made it over the lake without falling into it, except for one boat that started rowing eastward and ended up being tipped by the Giant Squid. Myrtle felt disappointed when Kettleburn had to leave and the Deputy Headmistress took over the children. She was a distracted, brown-eyed mouse of a woman with short hair who looked as though she were fresh out of Hogwarts herself and had no business being Deputy Headmistress. She pointed at the doors and stared pointedly at the first years. "You will stand here in queue, waiting for those doors to open, and you will march into the Great Hall. You will come to the front of the front, put on the hat, and be sorted. Then you will sit down at your house's table. Do you understand me?"

The bunch of them answered positively in various ways. "Good children," she said, walking through the doors of the Great Hall.

A beautiful girl came to stand beside Myrtle, seeming to tower over her. She tried to ignore the girl who was everything Myrtle was not; she had bouncy hair, a thin figure with curves most girls their age had, and a flawless face with high cheekbones and slanting eyes. "I wonder," the girl said conversationally. "Do you know how many chocolate frogs you ate on that train?"

Myrtle bristled, looking away from her and bracing herself. "I didn't have any. Why?"

She laughed in much the way Myrtle's mother did. "Because you have more spots on your face than any leopard I've seen!"

"Olive, how wicked of you," one of her friends exclaimed delightfully.

"Oh, shut up, Josephine!" A handsome boy with messy black hair faced the girl. "How could you tease some poor girl on her day here?"

"Henry Potter," she spat. "I should have known you would come to some maiden's rescue. I just never knew your princess would be a cow!"

Henry's face curled up into a smirk. "I'm surprised you know who I am, Olive. I was positive you couldn't see past your own shadow!"

Olive glared in a way that made it obvious she wished death upon him. "What are you implying, Potter?"

"Were the words too big for you, Olive? I'm sorry. I'll narrow it down. You are a self-centered bitch."

"What—who—what—?" she sputtered.

Henry smiled at her devilishly as he walked back to his place in line.

Myrtle stared in his direction, struck by his heroic deed. She seemed to float toward him and, before she knew she had moved, she stood before him, grabbing his hand and gushing her thanks. "Oh, you were wonderful! I can't believe you would do something like that for me."

He jerked his hand away from her and stared down. "That's because I didn't do it for you. Get away from me and get back in line before Grubby-Plank comes back."

***

As both Myrtle and Olive were sorted into Ravenclaw, she was tormented for the rest of her year by the awful girl. Myrtle spent most of her time, sobbing in the girls' bathroom on the second floor, as it was the only place to get away from Olive's group. One day in December, during the winter holiday, she had routinely ran from Olive and cried her eyes out in the bathroom, remembering the words of her mother and Olive and Henry; all of their insults were running through her head when another voice broke through. "Finally," an older boy's voice said in the girls' bathroom! Myrtle listened to a bunch of hissing before she opened the door. "What—"

Bright yellow eyes stared into her soul and seemed to rip it away from her body.

Fin.

the smell of hospitals in the desert, g

2007-12-22T19:28:55Z

Title: the smell of hospitals in the desert
Character(s): Neville Longbottom, Frank and Alice Longbottom, Bill Weasley
Prompt: the smell of hospitals in the desert
Rating: G
Word Count: 417 words
Summary: Neville must move to Egypt to be with his lover.
Author's Notes: I'm not sure whether or not their mental illnesses would make them act this way, but here's what you have. For 7spells.

( the smell of hospitals in the desert (Neville Longbottom) )

because i knew you i have been changed for good

2007-12-06T22:22:42Z

If all of you would like to help a person in need, please go to Project Download and download the text file there. If there's a virus in the file, I'll be screwed three times over, but I'm trusting people over the Internet again. (According to that bastard, Dr. Phil, this is common for teenagers who are particularly apt to do stupid things. I hope he takes his generalizations and fucks himself up the ass with them until he has an aneurysm.) Back on topic, this is a really good thing to do. If we can download once a day, then we can help out a person who really needs it. You can do this from work and home, once per IP address, so if your work allows the site, you should do it twice.

Do good things!

sayonara

2007-12-04T01:19:55Z

If you have not yet noticed it, I have changed my username. emeraldserpent no longer exists and caretta has taken her place.

For those that want to know, caretta does have a story behind her. My Native American name is Quiet Turtle. Caretta caretta is the scientific name of a certain species of sea turtle, which also happens to be both one of my power animals and my animagus. "Caretta" is a latinized form of the French "caret" for turtle. So I am no longer a serpent; now I am a turtle!

Farewell, beloved name, farewell. I will miss you.

coming out: two years later

2007-10-16T02:43:42Z

If there is one thing I regret looking back on the times I've spent in fandom, it would have to be the post in which I confessed my age. I would have still confessed, but I wish I had been more articulate and reasonable in doing so. It might be optimistic of me to think this, but I feel like I might have kept some valuable friendships if I had handled the post differently. I did feel betrayed. I still think I had a right to feel betrayed, because I trusted the ones I revealed my age to back then. However, I should have expressed the betrayal in a different manner, or perhaps even in a separate post. I realized after I posted it that it could be taken in the wrong context. That is perhaps the one post that I left in its rawest form, but I should have edited it as though it were the most important thing I would ever write.

I cannot believe how quickly time flies. It's been over two years since I made that post in May of 2005, yet my stomach still burns when I dare to look at it. I was fourteen years old; I'll be seventeen on the second of November.

Right now, I would like to apologize to all of the fandom members I lied to back then. I know you felt betrayed like I did.

I would also like to thank all of the friends who stuck with me even after I confessed. Words cannot express how much your loyalty has meant to me through the years.

♥ ♥ ♥

The Official Journal List

2007-08-12T13:09:37Z

On a much lighter note, I would like to announce that I have now spread myself over three journals.

emeraldserpent @ LiveJournal.com
thysiastery @ GreatestJournal.com
thyrsus @ InsaneJournal.com

I will not be leaving LJ, but I want to be where the rest of fandom is. Look for me on Journalfen in a year and three months, bitches! (Hopefully it'll have improved by then.)

I wish I had more cause to use this icon now. *mourns*

Prejudices and the French vs. the English

2007-08-10T03:19:59Z

I have another plot brewing in my head, but I'm not sure if I could write it or not. In order to do this, I would need more information, and I'm afraid to ask for this sort of information. After coming off a nasty wankery about racism, I don't want to ask about the prejudices of the French and the English. I know these two nations have a lot against each other (big feud, hundreds of years old, think it's carried over) and I think it would have a little effect on Fleur's visit to Hogwarts. Wikipedia tells me a small bit about the Anglo- and Francophobia, but it isn't modern enough for me to make something of it in this fic. Hell, I'm not even sure I should write it. I mean, Fleur is French, and I'm not French, so what could I possibly do with a character that is? It would take a lot of time and research to write something like that, but it won't leave me alone. At least, it's the only female character that won't leave me alone. Blaise Zabini is the other character, but he's male and I really do need to get this femgenficathon work written in time.

So does anyone have information about the relations of the English and French? Prejudices and such? I know I probably don't have French people on this journal, but I'd like to know a little about them as well, considering I'd be writing from Fleur's POV.

I do not like my mind at all.

Pimpin' Post Part Deux #1: Deathly RP @ GJ

2007-08-09T02:36:37Z

Deathly RP is an RPG at GreatestJournal, created and run by a great friend (lauriegilbert). It is Deathly Hallows compliant (excepting the Epilogue o' Doom) and will follow characters after the death and destruction of war. It is set in 1998 as all of the world is attempting to rebuild itself.

It is the fall of 1998 and for the first time since he turned 11, Harry Potter knows what it is like to live without fear of Voldemort. But life isn't perfect. Hogwarts was left in shambles after the Great Battle, and is slowly being rebuilt. Families suffer because of cripplings, traumas, and death, and not everyone is yet ready to move on from what happened not so long ago. And while the Good Guys try to pick up the pieces of their lives, the Bad Guys aren't all gone. Some of the Death Eaters still walk free and are now without a leader.

Voldemort is gone, but he was not the only force of evil in the world. This is where Deathly RP begins, with the world rebuilding, lives readjusting, and evil trying to re-find its place in the new world.

Points of Note in Deathly RP:
1 - Hogwarts is closed for rebuilding. Those who should have taken NEWTs were awarded them based on past performance.

2 - In an effort to encourage knowledge about the Muggle world, the Ministry is encouraging people to learn about the Internet. Because of this, online blogging at wizardjournal.com is becoming extremely popular.

3 - Harry is Teddy's godfather, and as such has assumed care for him.

JOIN DEATHLY_RP!!!

Need sleep, not functional

2007-08-09T01:22:12Z

I have a headache. I've drunk 8 bottles of water (twice the amount you need in a day). I haven't been to sleep since 7 PM last night. And fandom wank has escalated into Pond and Cara possibly being reported to the NCMEC. If this is so, the reporters should be tried to stupidity and being totally unobservant.

Requests open for Purely Selfish Purposes

2007-08-06T02:24:53Z

"The time has come," the Walrus said... to offer myself up for requests, because I need inspiration. That's right, I'm doing this for Purely Selfish Purposes. I'm getting a twinge from seventybyheart's request from (holy shit) 2005, so I might end up with a Bellatrix fic before long. (Before long, my ass. This request has been sitting idle for two years. I'm a bad puppy, I am.)

Request Form

Fandom: [Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Gravitation, Gundam Wing, Harry Potter]
Rating:
Character/Pairing Desired:
Element(s) Desired:
Preferred Genre:
Anything else?

Feel free to make requests as detailed or unspecific as you like. I will not do crossovers, because I kind of suck at them. If you remember the last time I did this, the fandom list was much longer. Don't mind me. I was young and stupid then. I narrowed it down to fandoms I know intimately.