Chapter Twenty

Araminta ran down between the tables until she tripped over her long Slythindor robes and fell to the floor. "Hey there, girlie, wanna join us for some poker?" said a nasty voice.

"I'd poke 'er!" another voice chimed in.

"Go away," Arminta said, hiding her face in her hands. "Everyone, everything, just go away!"

"Aw." She felt a big ham hand pat her on the shoulder. "Hey there, don't cry. I bet I know what would make you happy."

This new voice was gentle and deep. Araminta wiped away the tears that blurred her eyes and looked up into the wizened, gentle face of a man in a woolen sweater and a tweed blazer. It fell open, and a tag showed that read Property of Theodore Goddard.

"Why don't you come along with me to a more private setting, where you won't be bothered by the riffraff?" he continued, helping her up.

"That's very kind," said Araminta, recognizing one of her own countrymen and allowing him to lead her to the high rollers room.

The VIP room was even smokier than the main part of the casino. As they entered the gaudily appointed room, a card game broke up and cowboy-hatted men threw their cards down on the table, swearing and muttering. Araminta stood to one side as they exited.

"Let me go and get us some tea, dear," the Englishman said, pulling out a chair for Araminta. He gestured to the only remaining person, a man who sat well back into the shadows. "This is an old friend; I'm sure you can keep each other company while you wait."

Araminta was nearly alone. Then, a squat little man pulled his chair up and into the light. He had a very hairy chest, a very high hair line, and a cigar that he chewed between his teeth. Araminta was strongly reminded of the Muggle actor Danny DeVito.

"Joe Rolling," said the man, sticking out his hand.

Araminta shook it, replying, "Araminta Meliflua Malfoy...Malfoy-Potter, if I'm forced to take advantage of the Nevada laxity in marriage law."

Joe let out a chuckle. "Sweetheart, that's one institution I can't diss highly enough in any country. Now, is that why you've got tearstains?"

"Yes," Araminta admitted. "I heard my husband-to-be telling someone that he was only marrying me for my money. The worst part of it is that I can't help loving him. You see, I've been through so much for him."

"Everybody says that," said Joe, patting her hand sympathetically.

"No, really," said Araminta. "You see, I thought he was my father, but then I went back in time and had to help my other father find his one true love or he'd die-part elf, you know. Then the woman I thought was my aunt turned out to be my mother, and I had to help her get together with father two so that I'd be born, and in the meantime, I helped my former father who was then my boyfriend and now my fiancé kill an evil overlord..." Araminta clutched her head. It was starting to hurt. "But when I managed to get back to my own time, it turned out that the things I did had an effect on time that rippled outward, and the evil overlord was dead, and hadn't killed my fiancé's parents, and he was different and creepy. I hate this life. I hate it!" Araminta started bawling again.

Joe set a roulette wheel on the table and spun it idly. "What do you want, red or black?"

"Red," sniffed Araminta. It was one of her House colors, after all. Joe spun the wheel and it stopped on black. "See? I can't win no matter what I do!"

"You're not seeing the whole picture. It landed on red," Joe said.

"No, it didn't," Araminta argued, pointing at the little white marble that was sitting on number four, black.

Joe smiled. "It landed on red in your plane. In another plane, another Araminta is sitting here and clapping her hands because it turned up red."

"You mean, sort of like how my present got messed up? I didn't get on the right plane? I haven't taken a plane, ever," Araminta said, growing increasingly frustrated.

"Er, no," said Joe, "think of it like alternate times. In the time you remember, you had a wonderful life. But there is also this life, which sucks. There are an infinite number of present times, because it is our choices that determine our fates. Each time you make a choice, you make a new present."

"That's not much help. I'm still stuck here and I don't like it." Araminta pouted, her lip wobbling dangerously. She knew she was acting childishly, but she couldn't help it.

"Well," said Joe, with a glint in his eye as he fingered a pile of chips (poker chips, not like fish and chips, which are really french fries), "you have to take charge of the present. Did you know that the pen is mightier than the sword?"

"I don't follow," Araminta said.

"I know exactly how I want my present to go. I've planned it all out. Filled notebooks. And so it goes. However, I know that there are all sorts of different timelines. In one, your fathers are still together. In another, your fiancé and your mom are married. In others, your fiancé is giving your chemistry teacher a blow job. And, believe it or not, in some you don't even exist."

"All of these things are happening in the present? All at the same time? Why doesn't the world just explode?"

Joe scratched his head. "I suppose because somewhere, someplace, there's someone getting to experience their favorite universe. It doesn't hurt anything. Not worth getting all riled up over, anyway."

"It is too," said Araminta, "if you can't get back to the present you want."

"Would you, by any chance, consider rewriting your own history?"

Araminta started to get an inkling of what Joe was getting at. "Are you saying," she said, reaching for the diary in her pocket, "that I could use magic-er, no, I don't know any magic-use a quill...er, pen, and that this might help me find my way back to the time I want to be in?"

Joe clapped his hands. "Ya think? Just one piece of advice, Araminta, and it's the most important one. You've got to figure out what went wrong, or you'll have wasted your one chance." He nodded his head toward the diary that she clutched to her ample chest. "And you only get one."

TO BE CONTINUED in Araminta Malfoy-Potter: Stormwatch!

This chapter and all preceding chapters-fanfiction! Harry Potter and all related material belongs to JK Rowling and is used in a derivative format without her permission or knowledge.