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Category: Post-OotP Characters:All Genres: Angst, Fluff, Drama, General Warnings: None Story is Complete Rating: G Reviews: 147 Summary: Harry's life is in turmoil since the death of his godfather, but realising he is in love doesn't make it any easier. This story tracks his sixth and seventh years at Hogwarts and all the problems he faces. Hitcount: Story Total: 69870; Chapter Total: 4254 |
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Friends and More Disclaimer: A very happy festive season to everyone, especially JK Rowling who actually owns all of this. Chapter Ten: Discussions and Discoveries The weeks slipped by, oiled for Harry by lessons which somehow seemed easier than ever before, and more enjoyable, as well as ever larger and more involved meetings of the DA, Occlumency, wandless magic, ‘cello music, swordplay, Quidditch and one or two more sessions with Professor McGonagall, although they gave up after only a short while, not seeing a point in practicing something Harry could do perfectly already. Strangely, Harry felt happier than he had been for a very long time. Life was full, he was active, he was working against Riddle and he even had a glimpse of how he could defeat him. And, of course, there was Ginny. He sat with her one night in his office, where they had both come to avoid Ron and Hermione, who were in the middle of one of their rows. Everyone, including Ron and Hermione themselves, knew that after a little while they would make up and be as close as they ever were, but it was still a motion that had to be gone through, and the long periods of uncomfortable silence interspersed with bouts of sniping at each other, which occasionally erupted into fully-fledged yelling matches, were rather wearing on their best friends: Harry and Ginny needed a break, so they sat in silence in the small but comfortable room, a fire burning in the grate, and did their homework. Harry finished his Transfiguration essay, reading it through quickly to make sure he hadn’t made any obvious mistakes, and laid it aside, looking at the fire for a moment before picking up his next assignment: a potion preparation for Snape’s lesson in two days’ time. It wouldn’t take him long. All of a sudden, though, he noticed that Ginny had stopped writing, and was staring into the flames as if lost. The fire danced in her deep brown eyes, and Harry was himself lost for a moment, before he pulled back to the real world. “You alright, Ginny?” “Hmm?” She didn’t look away. “You need any help or anything?” With an obvious effort, Ginny pulled her face from the hearth and looked at Harry instead. She looked carefully at him before speaking. “What are we, Harry? I mean, what are we to each other? I’m… confused.” Harry blinked, because he had been wondering the same thing only the day before. The truth was that he had, recently, become far closer to Ginny than he would have thought possible last term. Now that he could no longer always rely on Ron and Hermione… not that they couldn’t be relied on, but because Harry felt it wouldn’t be fair to them to intrude… he had been spending more and more time with Ginny, and had been discovering the reason for his devotion. He had never wondered before why he loved her, but as he came to know her better he discovered it anyway. It was partly because Ginny contained parts of both Ron and Hermione’s personalities: she had Ron’s sense of humour, his loyalty and, occasionally, Ron’s volcanic temper. On the other hand, she could also be the hand of caution and the voice of wisdom, as Hermione so often was. But that wasn’t all. Because she wasn’t Ron and Hermione. She was Ginny, and Ginny ran deep. She was caring and kind, but with a tendency to righteous indignation and, sometimes, righteous fury. She knew the joy of the wind all around her when she flew, and she could watch the world go by for hours on end, as Harry did sometimes, appreciating it for what it was. And she was someone who wasn’t afraid of herself, who had seen what she was capable of and who would not flinch from the real world anyway. She had experienced what it meant to attack your friends, to live in secrets and to be tempted into despair, and she still fought on. Harry thought that Ginny was probably the bravest person he knew, braver than anyone, because she kept going when no one would have blamed her for stopping. Harry pondered the question. Part of his problem was that he could not admit to her his real feelings, he told himself. He knew she didn’t like him like that, and while he could trust her to respect what he felt he could not expect her to return his feelings. She was over him, after all. He had wondered about the fact that, assuredly, if Riddle found out that he was in love he would exploit that in any way he could, but strangely that didn’t really enter his thinking. Ginny did not need protecting, not by hiding from the truth, anyway. He knew what that kind of protection felt like, and it was not something he would wish on anyone, because it never worked, not really. You found out, and as well as finding what was hidden you found that your friends and loved ones had kept it from you. Whatever the intentions, it was a betrayal of trust, and Ginny could be trusted. She had proved that many times. In fact, Harry thought that, at some point, he would have to tell her, and pray that she could at least accept his feelings, if not return them: above all else, if his love was the source of his power he would need her support more than anything else if he was to defeat Riddle. But he couldn’t tell her now. This wasn’t cowardice or procrastination: as they looked into each other’s eyes, Harry sensed that, though they had come a long way, they had not come so far that Ginny would be able to handle a confession of love, at least not from him. Soon, maybe, hopefully… but not today. He took a deep breath. “I’m not entirely sure, Ginny. Let’s see, as far as your family is concerned, everyone’s always telling me I’m a member, so I guess that would make us brother and sister, at least partly.” She frowned, as if she didn’t like that answer. Harry continued. “On the Quidditch pitch we’re team-mates… and amicable ones, I hope,” Harry said dryly. That was another thing: Ginny wasn’t afraid to stand up to him, contradict him, as many people seemed to be, though he didn’t know why. There had been a few times when he had been talking to the chasers and Ginny would correct him, or challenge something he said, and since he didn’t really feel like a captain in his own head at least, he usually went with her suggestions, with the agreement of Lauren and Beth. She frowned deeper. “You’re my captain, Harry.” Harry laughed. “You know what I think about that: I’m more moral support than anything else. Now, in the DA you’re probably the best dueller, although you are pretty reckless.” She shrugged. “I tend to think that, in duelling, doing anything to win is ok, since you can’t expect your enemy to fight clean. Anyway, I’m nowhere near as good as you. If you had agreed to duel me before Christmas I’d have been flat on my back in seconds. And I can’t do wandless magic, either.” Harry cleared his throat, remembering his own thoughts before that duel: if there was one person he would falter in front of, it was Ginny. He moved on. “You’re my friend, Ginny: I think you might be my best friend, now. And I don’t mean to say that you’re a replacement while Ron and Hermione are, er… busy.” She stifled a giggle. “I feel comfortable round you: there’s less pressure somehow. I just hope that you don’t feel you need to hang around with me because I’m all alone. Do I actually contribute anything?” She smiled gently. “I feel the same way, Harry. Just being like this,” she gestured around the warm room, “just being quiet and working, or talking, or just looking at the fire… I feel safe, somehow. It’s nice.” Harry felt pleasure well up inside him: it was very good to know that Ginny wasn’t keeping him company pout of some misguided sense of duty, but because she wanted to. He suddenly thought of something. “There’s more, Ginny. We have a lot in common, similar… experiences, I suppose.” Ginny’s smile faltered, but Harry pressed on. “I know that I feel more at ease talking to you about the… the hard stuff than with anyone else. I mean, last term I spoke to Luna a lot, as you know, but as helpful as she was, and as comforting, she couldn’t quite understand what I meant. You do.” Ginny looked thoughtful. “You’re right. When I talk to you, I don’t need to explain everything, including stuff that I… can’t explain.” Harry smiled. “So, in conclusion, I think I would say that you’re my best friend, my team-mate, my ally, my part-sister and my confidant. And a right pain in the backside occasionally, too,” he said, with a sly look. Ginny mock-frowned and kicked at him, but she missed on purpose and laughed. “Well, that’s cleared that up.” She smiled at him and stood up, picking up her bag. “I think I’m going to go back now: they’ve probably gone to bed by now, and it’ll be all better by tomorrow. Goodnight.” Harry watched her slip away, happy despite the wrenching feeling in his chest at not being able to give her a hug before they parted. ~*~ Late January saw the whole country still ice bound, and what had started as a seasonal treat was turning into a real problem. While in the Scottish highlands you might expect there to be severe snow, news reached them that even London was still frozen. There was no sign yet of the weather relenting, and Muggles were having a bad time of it, with trains and roads held up all the time, harbours freezing up and heavy, violent storms blowing up out of nowhere, causing significant damage. Still, as February began people at Hogwarts shrugged, saying that it was only to be expected that there would be an unusually harsh winter at some point. There was nothing much to worry about. Harry had things to worry about, though. In fact, he had several people to worry about, and for once most of them weren’t in Slytherin house. During the first few days of February he found himself inveigled into long and sometimes slightly personal conversations with a lot of people. Girls, in fact. Some he knew, and didn’t mind: after all, there was nothing really wrong with getting to know Lauren and Beth a bit better, since that was part of his ‘moral support’ approach to his role as captain, but there were others as well. Susan Bones, Hanna Abbot, and many others, girls seemingly any age from third year up, from all houses, stopped him in the hallway, asking him about anything from the weather, Quidditch, Defence, anything at all, and it was beginning to worry him. Ron and Hermione would smirk at him as it happened, and more than once Ginny had given an unmistakeable scowl when she had witnessed it and strode away quickly, although she was perfectly friendly around him most of the time. Seamus and Dean had taken to leering at him, and even Neville was giving him funny looks. And the conversations were so stupid! Why did people think he was suddenly the expert on everything? Most of the time they ran out of things to say, or Harry didn’t have a clue what they were going on about, and they would stand awkwardly for a while before mumbling something and walking away in opposite directions. Harry found himself avoiding crowded places, even the Gryffindor common room, to escape them and took to barricading himself inside his office, where he was at least in control of who could enter. One Wednesday evening he sighed and put down the ‘cello, which he had been playing to try and calm himself down, because he was rapidly reaching the point where he wanted to bring a quilt and pillow down here and avoid even his own dormitory, just because he would have to walk through so many people to get there, and he could be sure that at least one girl would intercept him. The problem was that he didn’t know why all this was happening. True, he had been getting odd looks he couldn’t quite interpret all year, but this was beyond a joke. He sighed as someone knocked on the door. “Who is it?” “It’s Ginny, Harry.” He smiled slightly and gestured with his hand, removing the locking charm on the door: an extent he had gone to after one particularly determined young lady from Ravenclaw had actually cast ‘Alohamora’ on the door. Ginny came in, her expression unreadable. She sat down opposite Harry and looked hard into his face, and Harry felt the sensation of someone trying to read the back of his own skull. It wasn’t intrusive, like Legilimency: it was simply trying to determine something. Finally she spoke. “Harry, why are you being so reclusive? I thought you would tell me if something was wrong.” Harry winced. “Sorry, Gin, I suppose I should have said something. But…” He trailed of, exasperation evident on his face. Suddenly he flared up, his temper, which had not put in an appearance for a long time, overloading him. He stood and angrily kicked his chair. Ginny didn’t flinch. “The thing is, I don’t know if there is something wrong. I just don’t understand all this.” She frowned at him. “All what?” Harry blushed slightly, and sat down again. “All these girls talking to me. It’s weird.” Ginny was staring at Harry, surprise, incredulity and amusement warring for dominance on her face. Amusement won. She burst out laughing, which utterly perplexed Harry. “What’s so funny?” Ginny could barely speak, she was laughing so loudly. “You… you really don’t know, do you? You can’t guess?” she gasped out. Harry’s look of confusion deepened. What was she going on about? “They’re flirting with you, Harry!” she eventually got out. “Or at least, they’re trying to. You’re not really being that helpful to them, you know?” Harry stood, shocked to his core. Flirting? Was that what flirting was? From what he had experienced, he wondered how anyone ever got it to work. “Wh… wha… why would they want to flirt with me?” Ginny stopped laughing and looked very carefully indeed at Harry. “Honestly, Potter, I thought you were supposed to be clever,” she said eventually, her voice cool but a highly amused look in her eyes. Harry blinked. “You are, probably, the most desirable person in this school. I mean, you’re rich and famous, despite whatever you might think or however you might act about it. Then, you’re actually quite a nice person, which surprises a lot of people. You’re very brave, you’re an incredible Seeker, you’re very clever, except in social situations it seems, very powerful and magical, and you are also incredibly handsome.” Harry had been spluttering incoherently for most of this speech, unable to speak because of the utter ridiculousness of what Ginny was saying, but now he felt he had to say something. “Now just one moment, I am not handsome!” he said fiercely, as though the quality was something to be avoided at any cost, a deadly insult. “I’m thin and weedy, and I have these stupid glasses and messy hair and an ugly scar and weird eyes…” Ginny was shaking her head, smilingly fondly at him, as though at someone trying to grasp a rather obvious point and failing. “Harry, that’s how you think of yourself, and a lot of it isn’t true anymore, and besides people can interpret looks in a lot of ways. When you were eleven, yes, you were kind of weedy. Now you are tall and getting pretty muscular. The hair and eyes are dramatic, the glasses are a bit of a contrast, so they give you some kind of mystery, and the scar is an enigma and reminds people who you are. Trust me, Harry, you are incredibly good looking, and combined with everything else any single girl who didn’t fancy you would be out of her mind.” Harry sat silently, opening and closing his mouth, not knowing what to say. Ginny stood up and gave him a slightly evil grin. “I think I’ll go now. You obviously have a lot to think about. Maybe you should try looking at a girl once in a while: if you find one you like, send her a Valentine next week. After all, you are Hogwarts’ heartthrob. Any girl would probably go into hysterics getting a card from the wonderful Harry Potter.” She gave him a wink and left the room, leaving Harry feeling slightly ill. He did end up conjuring a quilt and blanket and sleeping there, on the comfortable sofa in his office. Before he did he glanced in a mirror that hung on the inside door of the wardrobe. What he saw filled him with confusion. He was still just as weird looking as ever, a bit gangly, a bit messy. How could anyone find that attractive? And yet, he thought as he curled up to sleep, it looked like Ginny liked how he looked. He smiled into his pillow, drifting asleep to a little fantasy of Ginny admitting she found him attractive. Other girls could go hang, as far as he was concerned. He didn’t even care if someone like Malfoy started spreading rumours about his ‘preferences’, which Blaise had told him he had taken to doing recently. He couldn’t even pretend to like someone else. Not in that way. Not when there was Ginny to think about. ~*~ He hadn’t, as it happened, forgotten it was Valentine’s Day the following week. As a matter of fact, he had been thinking about it a great deal. The next morning, therefore, he woke up early and sneaked back up to his dormitory, and rummaged in his trunk. He laid the black box on his bed along with a letter, which he re-read, making sure to remember every word. ‘Dear Harry, ‘There are not many sixteen year olds I’d trust with this kind of information, Potter, and I’m not entirely sure I trust you either, from the tone of your letter. You’re not looking for just one spell: the ones you’ll need are ‘vidiens’, ‘revelus’ and ‘tactallius’, but remember to make all of them permanent. ‘See you some time, and CONSTANT VIGILANCE! ‘Moody’ Harry chuckled softly, then took the lion-head pendant from the box. Taking a deep breath, he levelled his wand. “Rem Vidiens Est.” The enchantment took lees out of him than last time, which he supposed was a good thing, but it was still a little while before he could do the next part of this. “Rem Revelus Est.” This time he felt like someone had punched him in the stomach: he was severely winded. He took a deep breath and cast the last spell. “Rem Tactallius Est.” He nearly lost consciousness. After resting for a while he decided to test the pendant. He pulled his invisibility cloak from his trunk and draped it over Hedwig’s empty cage, completely hiding it from view. Then he took a deep breath, this time praying that his spell casting had worked, and gripped the pendant tightly. The cage came back into view. He opened his hand, the cage disappeared, closed it, it was there as plain as anything. Still grasping the pendant he looked at the door and after a moment saw the spiral staircase behind it. With a whoop he jumped onto his bed, rejoicing for once over his accomplishment: Ginny would surely appreciate this. Suddenly he realised that he had forgotten something quite important. He opened the pendant and pointed his wand at the blank plate inside, once again concentrating with all his might on the words he wanted. “Scrivo Argentum.” And there they were, the words ‘that looks on tempests’, silver against the reddish gold. He smiled at it: he didn’t think that anyone but Ginny could ever wear this thing, it was so perfect for her. He wrote a little note, as before. ‘Ginny, ‘I’m sorry for the continued secrecy: I hope every day that you’ll know about me soon. Until then, you might find this useful: grasp the lion’s head strongly, and take a look around. I think you might be quite surprised. ‘A wandering bark, with love.’ He grinned at the message, thinking of Ginny… and how he would have to make himself one of these when he found something appropriate to cast the enchantments on. ~*~ It was the thirteenth of February, and Harry was gazing thoughtfully at his simmering Potion of Plenty, which was a rich, dark green colour, exactly as Snape had said it should be. It gave off a wonderful smell, like a pine forest on a warm day, but he didn’t breathe too deeply: Snape had warned them that the fumes had been known to cause mild hallucinations. Saturday had been Gryffindor’s match against Hufflepuff. They had put up a good fight, but it was clear from the start who was the dominant force. The Gryffindors were playing in completely new ways, creating brand new tactics that utterly perplexed opponents: Colin Creevy’s trick of trying to score with a bludger had been extended, so that at times the Gryffindor team almost seemed to be passing a bludger to one another instead of the quaffle, while one of them had the real thing hidden on their person: Lauren had done a superb job of pretending to fumble the fake quaffle, and the Hufflepuff chaser expecting to receive the quaffle had only just dodged the speeding cannon-ball. Harry’s capture of the snitch was something of an unnecessary detail: by the end, it wouldn’t have mattered who had got the snitch: Gryffindor would still have won. “Your potions should be ready now: fill a vial and bring it to my desk, then clear away your things and leave for your next lesson when you’re ready.” Snape’s voice interrupted Harry’s musings; the lesson was nearly over. Harry filled his vial absently, his thoughts elsewhere. He was thinking about the next day, in fact. He had got Ginny a birthday card, which he would send the following morning, but in some ways he wished he could send a normal Valentine’s day card. It would have been nice to do something that straight forward and open. He had toyed with the idea for some time before disregarding it. Ginny wasn’t going to want to be confused by something like that just now. He sighed and wandered towards Snape’s desk, not seeing the puzzled look on Ron’s face next to him, or the slightly commiserating one on Hermione’s. As he placed the vial on the desk, Snape said quietly “Could you come to my office tonight, Mr. Potter? I’d like a word. Say about seven o’clock?” Harry glanced up, wondering what might have prompted this request. His eyes met Snape’s, and Harry saw something in the dark eyes, his Legilimency kicking in without him being able to control it. Before he could stop himself he was gazing into them, and knew something that he would never have guessed. He stumbled backwards, catching the corner of a desk in the small of his back, and the pain brought him back to himself. “Are you alright, Mr. Potter?” Snape looked vaguely concerned, but Harry could tell that Snape knew what Harry had just seen in his mind: that he had, in fact, almost sent the message to Harry. Harry stared at his teacher for a while before speaking. “I’m… I’m fine sir. I’ll see you at seven o’clock.” Snape nodded briskly and Harry returned to his desk, his mind in absolute turmoil. What he had just witnessed explained so much. It was also very disturbing, and Harry decided there and then not to tell anyone, not even Ginny. This wasn’t his secret, it was Snape’s. Harry was amazed that his teacher trusted him that much. Harry hardly noticed the rest of the day pass before him, he was so distracted. Various people asked him what was wrong, but he didn’t know what to say. He just shook his head and told them he had a lot on his mind. That was true enough. Before he knew it, it was seven o’clock and Harry found himself outside Snape’s study. He knocked. “Enter.” The room was as quiet and dark as ever, but Snape seemed very different. It took Harry a while to realise what was actually different about him, but eventually he saw and recognised the expression in his teacher’s face: a nervousness and apprehension that bordered on terror, and not fear for death or pain, but of letting someone into his mind. “Harry, Sit down and tell me what you saw earlier, because I can’t quite believe that I showed you that.” It was a mark of Snape’s high emotion that he called Harry by his first name, something he had never done before… although Harry understood part of that, now. Harry sat, took a deep breath, and began, looking at his hands, which lay clenched in his lap. “The memory I saw in the Penseive last year was the worst you’d ever had, and I knew that then, I think, but I didn’t quite know why, because from what I’ve heard events like that weren’t all that uncommon when you were at school.” Snape nodded briskly. “But the thing that was different was that you called my Mum a Mudblood. I’ve never heard you make a single comment about the purity of blood since I’ve been here, and it struck me as odd then. I think it must have been after that that you fell in love with her.” He swallowed, trying yet again and failing to process this information. Snape wasn’t looking at him now, but into his own past. Harry tried to work out what to say next. “And that was why you always hated my Dad so much. Because she loved him and not you, even though she tried to be friendly to you. I always thought it was rubbish that you could have such a grudge against my Dad because he was good at Quidditch. But I think it was the reason why you joined Dumbledore and the Order during the first war, and it’s why you always disliked me so much. I was pretty much a constant reminder that, in the end, my Dad had beaten you.” Harry fell silent, unable and unwilling to say more. His mind seemed paralysed; he could not think. He just watched Snape who was looking at his hands on the desk. He was even trembling slightly. Eventually he spoke. “I always swore that no one would ever find out about this, Harry. Only Dumbledore ever knew. Except for your mother of course, because I eventually worked up the courage to tell her. You must understand: I truly loved her. She was remarkable. More powerful than any witch I had ever known, but so good with it. She was always fair and kind and she hated all the pranks the marauders played on me, and I on them… because I did retaliate. Often. She became quite upset with all of us.” He fell silent too, and then looked straight at Harry. “Do you hate me more than ever for that?” Harry thought for a while. “I don’t think so, sir,” he said eventually. “I might not like the reasoning, but I can understand it. The story I’ve always been told about them was a bit of a fairytale romance… I should have known it wouldn’t be like that. But, I know my mother always tried to see the good in everyone.” There was more silence. “Was there anything else, Professor?” Harry asked in a very small voice. Snape sighed. “No, Harry, nothing else, but I would appreciate it if you kept this information to yourself. I’m sure you can understand that.” Harry nodded and left, wishing he could tell someone this and knowing that he never would. ~*~ He woke up the next morning to find an uncomfortably heavy weight on his feet. He drowsily sat up and looked at them. They were buried under a huge pile of envelopes and parcels, mostly in red or pink. Looking around he saw each of his friends emerging from their own four-posters, each with a single card and present. They all looked at the mountain on Harry’s bed and burst out laughing. Ron recovered first and opened his card, which was, predictably enough, from Hermione. Seamus and Dean had cards from, respectively, Lavender and Parvati. Neville’s was from Eleanor Darke and caused him to blush so much that he had to splash cold water in his face to recover, especially since he was more than two years older than her. Harry’s pile seemed to have originated from most of the girls in Hogwarts, and he had to give up opening them after a while because he was going to be late for breakfast. Besides, he was pretty sure that there wouldn’t be one from the one person he would appreciate it from. The presents varied in suitability from books about spells and sweets to hair gel and flower-scented shampoo. He went down to breakfast feeling rather depressed, for once not noticing the enthusiastic looks he was receiving from female students around the hall. He brightened up slightly when he saw that Ginny had saved him a seat next to her. The moment he sat down she leaned across to give him a very brief hug. “Thanks for the card,” she whispered. She seemed very happy, and Harry smiled in spite of himself, her good mood forcing his spirits to rise. “I didn’t think you knew. You’ve never sent me a card before.” Harry grinned. “I thought it was about time I learnt when one of my best friend’s birthdays is. I hope you like it.” She nodded and smiled, and they talked quietly about the previous and next Quidditch matches for the rest of the meal. Harry was one of the last to go up to bed that night, as he had been playing chess with Ron and had been distracted afterwards, staring into the fire. Subconsciously he was waiting, hoping… “Hermione, it’s happened again!” Harry kept very still and quiet, doing everything he knew to stop himself being seen. Two shadowy figures appeared at the bottom of the girls’ stairs, the taller redheaded one almost dragging the shorter and bushy-haired person after them. “What’s happened again?” “Another mystery gift! Look at this.” There was a pause as a slim black case was handed over and as Hermione inspected the pendant and the note that came with it. Harry was holding his breath, hoping that now, as last time, Hermione would not give him away. He thought he saw a slight smile playing on his friend’s lips. “Well?” Ginny asked, seemingly exasperated by Hermione’s silence. Hermione grinned wider. “I still can’t tell you, Gin, but… you’re wearing the first one, I notice.” Even from where he sat, Harry could see the blush on Ginny’s face. “So what if I am?” “Well, nothing’s changed since Christmas. I still can’t tell you anything, even though you’ve probably made a guess, but this is a very powerful magical gift. I’d treasure it if I were you. Goodnight.” With that she went back upstairs, smirking. Ginny, however, hovered at the bottom of the stairs, as though unsure of what to do, and Harry suddenly realised the conflict that was going on in her mind. Ginny knew by terrible experience how foolish it was to trust a magical object she had no knowledge of. That caution was ingrained in her very soul. On the other hand, she trusted Hermione completely. Slowly, hesitantly, she picked up the golden chain and draped it around her neck, the lioness’ head next to her heart. Harry felt that he might just float up to bed as he saw her start up the stairs, a warm smile on her face. (AN: Aren’t I a miserable idiot, staring at my computer screen rather than spending time with my family? A very happy new year to everyone, since I definitely won’t be able to do another chapter before then. In fact, many apologies that this chapter took so long: I think that work, illness and writer’s block are the three biggest obstacles to writing, and I’ve suffered all three this week. I’m not sure that this chapter is very good, so please don’t hurt me too much. It might be a bit low on action, but what is here is quite necessary. I’ll try to make up for it next chapter, honest. I think I’m going to make a request, and see if anyone would care to beta for me. I don’t have anyone at the moment, and I think it could stand a little constructive criticism prior to posting. Contact me if you’re interested. One warning: I always use UK English and its conventions, so you might want to steer clear if you’re not used to them. I have nothing against US English, but I do recognise that they are very different, and are becoming more so all the time. Just something to bear in mind. The permanent enchantment spell is not good Latin. It is very bad Latin. ‘Rem’ can mean anything from ‘thing’ to ‘universe’, but I thought ‘the thing is’ was just about as good as anything else I might come up with, so I decided to go with it. Ages: a clarification. Just for people who haven’t worked them out, at least in this fic: Harry’s birthday is only actually about six months before Ginny’s; he is very young in the year, whereas we know that Hermione is fairly old and we assume that Ron is, considering that Ginny was born in the following year. Neville is very similar in age to Harry, and if I make Eleanor Darke very old in her old year, she would be just over two years younger than Neville. If the personalities fit, I personally don’t think that this is too big a gap, especially taking into account Neville’s sensibilities. I think that’s it. Again, a very happy new year, especially to anyone who reviews (not so subtle hint). —Tom) |
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