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Breaking the News Slowly to Sirius
Author: Drucilla Eternal
Date: 07-18-08 19:29
The twins were finally asleep, tucked upstairs in their beds. It had been a full day of eating and playing, with the occasional tantrum or two. Watching those two left little time for anything else, which was why I was now sitting at the dining room table with books scattered about the polished wood top.
“Drucilla?”
I looked up tiredly, pushing my hair out of my face. Sirius was tying a robe on hastily, a telltale sign that he had entered the home in his animagus form. I had become accustomed to leaving spare robes hanging on the coat rack at the front door, no matter which home we were staying at. And lately, that had been a lot of homes.
Looking at the book in my hand, I noticed Sirius’ eyebrows raise in surprise. “A Muggles History of World War Two?” he repeated the title aloud. “Drucilla, what are you doing with these books?”
I looked at the books and with a soft sigh I gestured towards the chair beside me. Sirius sat down.
“I think it’s time, Sirius.”
“Time for what?” Sirius had a confused look on his face as he automatically reached for my hands.
Drawing strength and courage from his touch, I took a steadying breath. It wasn’t going to be easy to say what needed to be said.
“Sirius, it is time to be more proactive. I’m joining the fight.”
Sirius stood abruptly.
“The twins!” he sputtered.
“Someone else can watch them,” I said quietly.
“No!”
I pressed my lips tightly together. I had already expected this reaction. Sirius wouldn’t be Sirius without reacting this way. He would rant and he would rave but in the end he would relent, because in the end he knew that same thing I knew.
I am a Veela. I have many powers. And even though I have lost most of them since the accident and losing my memory, it could be relearned. I could feel it all brewing inside me, the power, the art of persuasion. A Veela could be a very valuable tool in the fight against the Ministry, if used properly. All it took was finding the right opportunity, the right person….
But Sirius wouldn’t be ready to hear all this yet. I needed to give him time to accept what I had told him. One thing at a time. It was going to be hard enough for him to get over the fact that I was joining the fight. The rest could wait. For now.
Kip and Beulah
Author: Ron Weasley
Date: 07-19-08 16:56
"What about this one?"
Ron holds up a dark gray coat with cream accents. Ginny fingers the material, her mouth forming a small moue.
"It's a little scratchy. Is it lined?"
"No."
"Then no, not this one."
"It's starting to get dark. You think I should go back to the stall that had the blue one?"
"The blue with burgundy or the all blue one?"
"All blue."
"The blue with burgundy is nicer and about the same price."
"You think she'd like that one better?"
"I think she'd like them about the same."
"Maybe I should get her something else."
"Don't go changing your mind now, Ron."
"I would still go practical. She doesn't want me getting her anything, you know."
"Is that why you're going with practical?"
"Given our circumstances plus that."
"I say go with the blue and burgundy coat. It's nicer, softer, is beautifully line, will be warm when the cold weather hits, and is a very good price."
Ron rehangs the gray coat then joins Ginny who's already moved out of the stall, going in the direction of the one that has the blue and burgundy coat. The Holton Road market, held every Tuesday so they've been told, is still fairly crowded even though most of the stalls will soon be shutting down. Ron hadn't known much about Vale of Glamorgan, the Welsh town where they recently relocated. He'd known even less about nearby Barry, where the weekly market is held.
This morning Ron had decided to set out on his own in hunt of a birthday present for Hermoine. He hadn't told her that's where he was going. Hadn't told Harry either. Ron had stated he needed some fresh air and some alone time. The others understood all to well that need and didn't question him or get offended by the desire to have some time away from them. In fact, they'd all encouraged Ron to get out, away from the telly.
Ron hadn't thought the search for a present would take so long but at the same time he'd expected to come up empty handed as he had no idea what to get Hermione other than he wanted it to be something useful, something practical, something that isn't a another book.
It was when he was standing outside a restaurant perusing the posted menu, trying to decide if this was where he wanted to have a late lunch that Ginny came across him. Ron suggested she join him for lunch and spilled to her the real reason he wanted a day on his own. With Ginny's help, Ron was able to put together an actual list of possible presents, one of them being a winter coat.
Ginny reaches their destination first. She steps into the stall then back out again, the small moue she'd had earlier deeping into a severe frown. "It's not here."
Ron stops short, crestfallen. Ginny lightly hits him on the shoulder, the frown changing to a devilish grin. "Just joking."
"Ha ha," Ron says without amusement, his heart pounding at the sobering thought of having to search more for a suitable gift.
Minutes later they are exiting the stall with Ron pointing, "This way. I remember seeing a stall that had what looked to me like gift boxes."
Ginny moves to walk beside Ron. "From now on I'm calling you Kip," she announces out of the blue."
Startled, all Ron can think to say is, "What?"
"I think we should call each other by aliases when out in public."
"That means you get to decide what mine is?"
"Of course it does."
"Why Kip?"
"Why not Kip?"
"If that's how it's going to be, then I'm calling you Beulah."
"I am not answering to Beulah."
"Then I'm not answering to Kip."
"Yes, you are, Kip."
"No, I'm not, Beulah."
"Stop calling me that, Kip."
"You started it, Beulah."
Beulah and Kip bicker until they reach the stall with the gift boxes. They pick up where they left off after Kip finds a box for Hermione's coat, continuing the squabbling all the way back to the rented house in Vale of Glamorgan.
I Am Not A Soup Can
Author: Don Thomas
Date: 07-19-08 17:54
In the back of her mind, Don wondered why she had taken mostly elective courses. While she had no classes on Tuesday or Thursday, she also had nothing to do and no one in her year had her schedule. Curtis did only have two classes, which meant they could hang out before and after his classes. This fact also made Don's schedule okay in her mind. An easy schedule that her friend almost shared. Better than nothing.
While Curtis was in class, Don had spent most of her day touring Hogwarts, by herself, with Jimi on her shoulder. She passed a few students every now and then. She even ran into the Bearded Lady by accident. They shared salutations and made on with their merry way.
But as the day was coming to an end, Don found herself in Curtis' room with the door open (of course). While Curtis laid on his bed, staring at the ceiling, Don was in the corner of his room. They weren't just sitting though. An ongoing conversation about Don's roommate had been taking place.
"Slytherins are always stuck up," Curtis said.
"Thanks for warning me."
Curtis sat up smiling. "I didn't know you would be rooming with her."
"Her mom's nice," Don said as she stared at Jimi, whom was now running across the floor.
"You know her mum?"
"Yeah. She sent me a letter. Apparently, she wants Freya and I to design our room and she's willing to pay for it."
"Heh," Curtis said laying down again. "The girly girl and the tomboy designing a room together."
"I'm not a tomboy."
"You're not a girly girl."
Don nodded. She wasn't any typical teenage stereotype. Now that was something to be proud of. "I'm not a soup can."
"What does that have to do with anything?"
With a smile, Don stood up. "I don't have a label."
Curtis sat up again and nodded to Don. "Maybe that's why you're so cool. You're not like everyone else."
"Neither are you," Don said as she picked up Curtis' Rolling Stones shirt and held it up. Curtis smiled as she set it down again.
Life Worth Living?
Author: Illyria
Date: 07-19-08 18:56
Illyria sat down on the rocks and sighed. Dusk was rapidly falling, and yet she had the arduous task of washing clothing in the wild waters that circled the small, battered island of the community of 14-15-14. Illyria had long-grown tired of the smell of salt in the air, in her hair and in her clothing. She also didn't like the feel of its microscopic grains in her robes, but she had no fresh water for washing. She spent every waking and sleeping moment on the island soaked to the very bone or at the very least uncomfortably moist from the constant batter of waves. Her fingertips always seemed shriveled. Her hair, always frizzy.
As she worked on cleaning the laundry and also making sure the crashing waves didn't carry the clothing away, she thought about her family. She focused on Arsinoe the most, knowing that the birth of her oldest sister's firstborn was a couple of months overdue. Had the birth gone smoothly? Where was the young family now? Hopefully, they hadn't been snatched.
A fierce wave toppled over Illyria's head, knocking her backwards into the rocks. A particularly sharp ridge cut into her back, causing her to cry out in pain. She hissed between her teeth as she managed to sit up again, and reached behind her back to gently touch the inflamed area. The rock's edge hadn't seemed to cut through her clothing, thankfully. She pulled her arm forward and used it to brush the sopping-wet hair from her face. Illyria spit water from her mouth and blinked rapidly, in an attempt to get the stinging salt from her eyes.
"I hate this," she muttered angrily. She resisted the urge to stand up and shout the words to the moon, even though she might not be heard over the ocean's continuous sounds.
She looked over her shoulder and sighed again. The laundry basket had been smashed to bits, and various articles of clothing lay haphazardly over the rocks. Some had been swept out into the ocean. Illyria knew she could swim a short distance to rescue some of the clothes but at some point she'd have to stop, since a magical barrier prevented anyone from escaping. With it growing darker by the moment and the sea seemingly becoming rougher each minute, she decided she'd rather not risk drowing or getting crushed against the sharp rocks. She'd much rather get Crucio'd for losing some clothes.
Illyria suddenly started laughing, almost maniacally. Her term at 14-15-14 was shorter than most, and already she was losing her mind. Why would anyone choose torture over death?
She sobered quickly and turned around to pick up the scattered clothing. Perhaps she still had the will to live. Perhaps she had something somewhere worth living for.
Who's Whom to Whom (Cruise, Cutter, Calder)
Author: Havana
Date: 07-19-08 20:24
The first days at Hogwarts had been different. The tables were empty; the boys knew changes were happening, but nothing like this was expected. The usual sorting ceremony had been tossed aside as if it didn’t matter, and more important than that the houses had been disbanded. Cruise, Cutter and Calder were from a long line of Slytherin students.
After herbology the boys were relaxing in their common room. “I still can’t believe this is happening. I know we’re all about the pureblood movement, but they don’t need to take away our family pride!” Cutter groaned as he slumped into a chair.
Calder looked up from his book, “I know Cut, and we’re still Slytherins at heart. Mum and Dad would be pissed if they knew about this.”
“C’mon guys, just relax for a bit! We’re here, at Hogwarts and there are only pureblooded kids! That’s got to be fantastic.” Cruise smiled, always the calm optimist of the three.
“Yeah, let’s just relax today…we can work on confusing our professors.” With that three identical Stryde boys left the dormitory to see what trouble they could get in to.
Trying to Stay Strong
Author: Fritz Schnackenpfefferhausen
Date: 07-20-08 08:16
Not for the first time, Fritz wonders what things would be like if he were at Hogwarts and not at Happy Haven School For Nons. He wishfully imagines everything to how it should be, Hogwarts not segregated by blood statuses, one set of professors for all students alike, and Albus Dumbledore as headmaster. Too bad wishes don't always come true.
With Coco beside him in the cafeteria, Fritz eats the bland-tasting food some of the other students are serving him. He doesn't fault them for its uninspiring taste. He knows that they aren't given the best ingredients to make a fine meal, and most kids don't really know how to cook anyway. Evidently, that's why they are all enrolled in Home Economics class.
Besides attending classes and feeling as if he's missing out on true academics, Fritz has various jobs to attend to during the day. One of those jobs is to stuff envelopes on behalf of the Ministry of Magic. Some he can shut with wax and a seal, but others he has to lick to close. He feels as if his tongue has gotten rough, and the disgusting taste of the envelope still seems to linger in his mouth. Unfortuntaely, he has another round of stuffing and sealing envelopes this evening after classes.
He sighs and reaches for Coco's hand but immediately pulls away. Headmistress Carrow does not approve of public displays of affection, or any private ones for that matter. Fritz doesn't want to get himself or Coco into any more trouble than they've already found themselves in. It seems as if no student at Happy Haven can do anything right. Someone is always getting punished for one ridiculous thing or another. Fritz has stopped counting how many times he's seen someone get Crucioed or randomly burst into tears. He's wanted to cry plenty of times himself but hasn't let any tears escape just yet. Being one of the older students at Happy Haven, Fritz feels as if he needs to stay strong for the younger ones, especially the eleven year olds who'd so recently been transfered from their old community to this one.
Instead of taking Coco's hand, he rests his own on his thigh and gently grips it there. It's hard not trying to seek comfort in someone else, especially when even one of the strongest at Happy Haven needs comfort from time to time.
Island In The Distance
Author: Aaron Miller
Date: 07-20-08 13:03
"I'm know that's got to be another island, Professor Miller," Lee Henderson states, gazing off into the distance.
"Most of us do too, Lee. It's miles away and probably even further than we would think. Do I have to remind you again you don't have to call me professor?" I reply without looking up as I hack down more stalks of sugar cane.
"Old habits," Lee replies, a shrug in his voice.
To my other side Hagrid grunts, "Guards er lookin' this way, Lee. Don' let'em catch yer not workin'."
The work is back breaking. The sugar cane field isn't huge but it's big enough to make those of us harvesting it not want to think about how badly our backs will hurt by the time we've cleared the field.
This morning the field was burned, a standard procedure for cane fields cleared by hand. The burn took care of the dead leaves and other extraneous materials plus drove out any critters like the snakes but left the stalks and the roots intact. Once the side of field where the fire was begun had cooled off enough for us to start the harvest, Hagrid, Lee and I as well as Titania Bennett and Connie Copperpot had been given machetes.
Having a machete in hand makes it tempting to think about using the weapons to escape but none of us would be any match for the wand wielding guards. Still, each time I bend over to cut stalks at their base, I find it easy to imagine the stalks are the guards' legs. Before being brought to Q and made to live in an uncomfortable hut, eat inedible food, and perform forced labor, I wouldn't have thought of myself as the blood and gore violence sort of person.
Now, with the conditions as they are and guards quick to have a little fun with torturing curses, I find myself with an imagination run rampant with visions such as the ones I'm having today of hacking the guards to pieces. I wonder if the opportunity arose if I'd even flinch at the thought of actually doing it.
Lee, doubled over working again, says, "It's too far to swim but we could build a raft or look for some gilly weed."
"Even with gilly weed, do you think you could swim however many miles that is?" Connie asks from Lee's other side.
"It would at least be trying."
"Raft in'it o'bad idear," Hagrid offers his opinion, standing up with an armful of cane stalks. "Sled's full. Oi'll pull hit ter the shed and dump hit."
We could try putting a raft together covertly. Definately something for us to talk about with some of the others. I stand up straight, wiping my brow, one hand going to the small of my back to massage it. My eyes go to the shape in the distance, across the beautiful blue-green water. It would help if we knew what island that was. Could be it's not one that would do us any good to get to.
As I move forward to the next stalks and bend over to start cutting, I wonder who's got the janitorial duty in the small office complex this week or next. Maybe whomever it is can find something to help indicate exactly where we are and what island that might be. Save us a whole lot of time and energy building a raft in secret if we know beforehand whether that island is worth the risk.