Here's the ending I promised (and a couple bonus scenes, one contributed by SomeGuyFawkes). I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it. I don't own Harry Potter.
Chapter 7: The Fury of Fawkeszilla
Fawkes flashed us to HQ and dropped me onto Brisbane with my face planted squarely in her crotch. It seemed a fitting end to the mission.
I spent about three weeks in the infirmary, sedated for most of that time. Jenkins, forgetting how I'd saved his worthless arse, was kind enough to give Rita an exclusive and the press had a field day with a series of exposés detailing my apparent "instability and inability to lead." These words would be repeated when Scrimjob stopped by for a friendly chat about all manner of things-political liabilities, being a "team player", how "sadly, I accept your resignation" before I even gave it, and other such rot. Laid up as I was, and with my magic tainted from Tom's transfusion-something else that had been "accidentally" leaked to the press... Let's just say that Gellert's reputation may have been more solid than mine by the time they were finished.
Tonks visited during one of my lucid moments. I could see by her eyes that she wasn't sleeping. They had a hauntedness that couldn't be Metamorphed away, a look I knew well, having worn it myself for the better part of a decade. I helped her as much as I could, reminding her how time and perhaps a casual lover would help with the pain. She seemed a little better at the end and even managed a saucy wink on the way out the door. She'd get by. She's a tough bird.
Tom and Tommi were silent in my head and I found that I couldn't sense them at all. I reckoned that whatever happened to our magic was affecting them still. I heard occasional mumblings from Molly and Gin over the Bond, but they were muffled, as if speaking through a pillow. Since I hadn't recovered enough magic to lift a feather, I figured that was the cause of it.
Toward the end of my stay, Gin finally visited, though it was evident that her doing so was Molly's idea. Her eyes were red and puffy and she had a pensive look before she pounded on my chest, apparently less than pleased at my having put them through something so traumatic. Then she embraced me and begged for forgiveness.
There wasn't anything to forgive, really, and I told her so. She slapped me and yelled some more. Apparently, I'm insensitive.
Molly took over her body and scolded me for not commenting on how courageous and difficult it was for Ginny to admit her mistake and that the least I could do would be to appreciate what she was doing on my behalf. I nodded, wanting the whole thing to just go away. Perhaps it was the magical exhaustion, which tinctures the world in muted greys, but Britain didn't seem to hold much interest for me anymore.
"Blood traitor Master is leaving poor Kreacher?" my elf whimpered, his ears drooping more than usual, as he vanished the Chinese takeaway I'd picked up on my way home. I'd shared my meal with him-Kreacher, as I'd discovered, had a thing for fried dumplings. Besides, his acerbic wit beat eating alone.
"Yeah, tomorrow. Dunno when I'm coming back." I continued packing. I'd be traveling light-sword, armor, wand, a few Galleons, a couple changes of Muggle clothes, my specialty wands, a box of condoms. One can always hope, right?
"But who will prepare Master's bed?" he asked again.
"There's Galleons in the vault. I order you to treat yourself to Chinese Takeaway while I'm gone at least once a week."
"Master is the greatest!" he gushed and hugged my leg. I shook him off, hoping he wasn't humping it, and popped the cork on the last of my potions. It was a potent sedative that would knock me out for twelve hours. Holding my nose, I downed the vial, which stank of spoiled shellfish, and chased the vomitous taste with a piece of Molly's homemade fudge given to me that morning by a teary Ginny.
I felt a warmth in my chest and a wistful nostalgia I'd not experienced in a long time, not since my sixth year the first time around. As I drifted to sleep, my face settled into a smile. I sent a hug over the Bond and felt an affectionate tug in reply.
"Ginny!" Molly said in a harsh whisper, interrupting my slumber. Morning sunlight shone into my room in Number 4 and I felt groggy. I wondered whether the twins had slipped something into the fudge that may have addled my head.
Then I caught some movement under the bed sheet and noticed what my right hand was doing.
"Just what are you up to, young lady?" Molly asked.
"Um, nothing?" Ginny said.
"I find that hard to believe. I thought we had discussed this. You need to take things slowly or you'll confuse the poor boy. Using his hand to tug on his celery stalk is hardly moving slowly!"
"I know, Mum, but I don't care about my reputation. I- I only want him to feel good," she said in a small voice. "I love him. You didn't see him like I did that night-the way he fought, it was just like when he rescued me from Tommi. He was so brave… And what he said at the end- Mum, he really loves us. Loves me, even though I've been a tiny bit bitchy to him."
Ginny had a gift for understatement.
Molly sighed. "Well, if you're going to do it, do it like this." Molly seized control of my other hand and began her own ministrations, which were at once more gentle and yet forceful in just the right way. Despite the extreme awkwardness and the lingering potions in my system, I found release quickly, far sooner than I usually managed on my own. I sent a wave of appreciation back over the Bond. I didn't know what it was, but I felt more alive than I had since I came back.
"Wow, Molly," I said, feeling equal parts sated and squicked. "Where did you learn to do that?"
"Harry, dear, I've been married for longer than you've been alive. If I hadn't learned a few things, dear Arthur would have had to put more children through Hogwarts." She paused to wipe my left hand on the bed while Ginny smeared the stickiness around with the right and played with it. I could feel Molly rolling her eyes at her daughter's antics. "Besides, Harry dear, I've been living in your head for weeks. You masturbate more than anyone else I know."
There was a pregnant pause. Agrippa's arse-could this get more awkward?
"Except for Charlie, of course," Ginny and Molly said in unison.
"Poor boy," Molly said. "Even cleaning charms couldn't take the spots off his sheets."
"Or the windows," Ginny said. "My room was underneath his and I used to hear the floor creak every time that Muggle girl walked along the lane by the Burrow."
"Oh dear. Remember the spots on the roof of the Anglia?"
"Inside or outside?" Ginny asked, disgusted. "The bathroom was the worst, though. I always had to smell the air before walking in, just in case he'd painted the floor. Trust me, you do not want to step in that in the dark with bare feet."
"The broom shed was another of his favorites," Molly said, then added thoughtfully, "but at least it kept the Garden Gnomes away."
"And the underside of the kitchen table."
"What?" Molly asked. "When was this?"
"After Yule pudding a couple years ago, while the rest of the family were in the sitting room drinking cider."
"Oh my, I should have known that was Charlie. I think I blamed Ronnie for that mess."
I looked for a safer topic to discuss. "Um, Molly, what exactly were in your brownies?"
"Did you like them? Since you were leaving, dear, I put, well, a little something special in them to remember us by. It's from an old Prewett family recipe."
"What was it?" I asked, having a nagging suspicion.
"Vanilla bean," she said quickly, distracting me as Ginny used my hand to cram another, large piece of fudge into my mouth. As it melted over my tongue, I relaxed and in my mind, I embraced my two loves. Then I felt their passion rise. Just what was in the candy?
"Ginny, dear," Molly said, a little breathless, "did you wash that hand? If you mix the potion with that, it'll turn into an aphrod..."
"Potion?" I asked.
"Er, I meant vanilla."
Ginny growled playfully and the Bond felt hot with lust. She said huskily, "Um Mum, can you stay here with Harry? There's, um, this thing I want to do back in my body."
"Okay, Ginny dear, she purred, and I felt Molly draw near in my mind.
Partial clarity returned, however, as Ginny was forcibly repelled by the Bond and hurled back into my head. She tried twice more, but was unable to cross over. Someone was keeping them out and I had a good idea who.
"Oh, fuck," Molly said, echoing all of our thoughts.
And this brings me back to my story. As I was saying, I ghost to the Burrow. My Occlumency barriers at maximum, I've a grasp, however tenuous, on the matter at hand.
Then I see her.
Before me is a sun goddess in a millieu of flame. Nude, lissome, proud, her shoulders back, her legs parted wide, she's an avatar of deadly beauty. Her lips part slightly and red hair, glittering golden in reflected firelight, rustles in the hot wind. She folds her arms beneath her breasts and clutches her wand in an overhand grip, the fashion of a half-century past. Its tip smolders, guilty wisps that betray her arson, and her skin is the pink of Summer's kiss, yet sooted by smoke's corruption.
"Harry, dear, please stop staring at my daughter's bum," Molly mutters as a hand clasps over my eyes.
"Sorry, Molly," I say.
"Ginny's a nice girl and you shouldn't be seeing her like this before you're married. She'll get a reputation..." I can tell that her heart isn't in her scolding. One of my companions wails loudly and I search out our Bond to share her feelings of loss. Sorrow rips at my soul.
I start to peel the fingers from my face as her daughter's nudity elicits the obvious reaction-again, I'm reminded how strong teen-aged hormones can be.
"Harry!" Molly exclaims, scandalized. That I'm only dressed in boxers doesn't conceal matters.
"Potter!" the creature before me hisses as she turns to face me. A lesser man, one who hadn't defeated Voldemort several times, may have quailed at her malevolent stare.
"Busy morning, I see." I nod toward the roaring inferno, my wand trained on her.
"Indeed. Now I shall slay you and rebuild what you have stolen from me." I lament my cursed destiny, to be struck always with enemies lacking in conversation skills and, well, style.
"Are you alone in there?" I ask, stalling for time. I haven't a clue how I'm going to do this without hurting Ginny.
Ginny's features soften and her irises return to the warm, chocolate brown that stirs me heart. "I'm here too, Harry."
She smiles, her blush coloring more than just her face, and winks at me as Molly tuts. Across our Bond, I feel Ginny's embrace and a whisper in my mind pleads for me to defeat the usurper, no matter what the cost. I'm unsure I can obey.
Before I can subdue her, the malevolent spirit returns with a snarl and spits the incantation for a Killing Curse. A sputtering green bolt arcs toward me. I dodge, my Auror reflexes coming to the fore, and snap off a series of powerful stunners, fiery red bolts that crackle in the air. She slaps the first few away, but the fourth shatters her shield, forcing her to leap aside to avoid the next. The sudden motion gives me a fascinating practical lesson in inertia as Ginny whimpers in my mind over the pain she'll be feeling tomorrow.
Did I mention that I tend to get distracted by her brown eyes?
A buzzing chevron of black jets from her wand and leaves a smoky trail in the air as it flies toward me. With a whisper, a silver Mage's shield materializes about my left arm and rings like a gong as my spell deflects the curse to the ground. Thick chunks of sod are thrown up into the air and my arm twinges from the blow.
I conjure and animate a pair of chains that snake toward her. She dodges one, but the other traps her leg, causing her to stumble forward. She transfigures it into smoke and twists her shoulders to avoid the snap-bludgeoners, sharp monosyllabic battering hexes that I've launched toward her. Her lightning-fast Cruciatus sends me to the ground, which she morphs into a smoking pool of acid.
I Apparate upside-down to the space directly above her and catch her upper torso with a joint-locking hex before she can look upward. As she dispels the hex, I just manage to transfigure the ground beneath me into a pool of water before I crash headfirst into the dirt. The water cushions my fall and washes the residual acid from my body, although the impact with the bottom expels the air from my lungs.
Suddenly, the top half-meter of the pool freezes solid and I feel the buzzing sensation of a strong anti-Apparition ward going up. Spots form over my eyes as my inability to breathe starts to turn desperate. A Bubblehead charm is useless underwater without air to fill the bubble and I don't trust my ability to silently transfigure water into air. My Reducto bounces off the ice barrier and the water about me continues to freeze, turning slushy and making movement difficult in the confined space.
In a spark of inspiration, I remove my boxers and attempt to turn them into a Portkey, but the spell fails to take hold. Tom has apparently added wards against that as well.
The world turns black around the edges and I begin to lose consciousness, despite Ginny's and Molly's screaming at me to stay awake. Then, I find myself lying on my back on the grass taking deep, greedy breaths.
"Master is lost without his Kreacher," my savior says.
Ginnymort screams upon seeing my escape. I leap to my feet, nude now, and train my wand on her. A Killing Curse scores the earth where I had lain.
"Kreacher, go reward yourself a double order of dumplings."
"Yes, Master!" He says and pops out of the way of a second Killing Curse.
My opponent begins the incantation for a third, but stops as her eyes land on my manhood. Her irises turn from red to brown and she licks her lips, her cheeks flushing.
I feel my left hand reach below my waist, though it stops when Molly tuts loudly.
"Mo-om," Ginny says, stretching the word into multiple syllables. "If we can distract Tommi, we might be able to take back my body."
"Oh, well, in that case…" Molly grasps firmly and thus begins one of the most surreal duels I've ever fought. Tom and I trade deadly curses with abandon. Nude, we're all feeling the effects of Molly's amplified love potion. Our curses, powered by the strong emotions, crackle from our wands and leave our bodies wet from exertion. Tom's left hand, controlled by Tommi, has begun to frantically touch Ginny's erogenous zones. My own left, controlled by Molly and Ginny, does the same for me. We find ourselves caught up in an incoherent crescendo of fury and passion, hate and want. The line where one ends and the other begins blurs.
Suddenly, it becomes too much for one of us and Tommi pushes Tom aside, seizing control of Ginny's body.
"Take me! Oh, Merlin, take me now!" she shouts through flushed, swollen lips. It takes every ounce of control I possess to not comply. Ginny and Molly rush across, shattering Tom's lock on the Bond and Tommi and Tom are pushed into my head. I find, to my horror, that I no longer have dominion over my mind as my control begins to slip in the face of the united front of an enraged Tom and an equally enraged and sexually frustrated Tommi.
"Help!" I shout as I seek respite, pushing them out of my head and into the Bond.
"We can't-if we let them in, we won't have the strength to push them out again!" Ginny shouts back. "Sorry, Harry, but we can't take that chance." She stuns herself to prevent them from retaking her body.
The Toms claw back into my head and I fight for control in a battle more fierce than any I've ever had, yet I find myself on the brink of losing control. The solution before me is clear, if utterly cruel. My hand clenches tightly about my wand and I bring it to my temple. Sparks sputter from its tip and tickle my skin. "Avada…" I say with a hoarse voice and a whisper of Phoenix song ghosts into my head as the spell charges.
Then, an idea forms and I send a call out across the dimensions.
The bird arrives with a squawk of surprise and annoyance. Before he can protest, I push Tom and Tommi through the Phoenix Bond and cram them into my familiar's head. His angry chattering stills, leaving him hovering in the air.
Then his black, beady eyes slowly turn crimson.
It sounds a little like "move" and I do, diving out of the growing shadow. A half-second later, a cow falls where I was standing, having been dropped from a height by an angry Voldephoenix. I see another shadow and roll sideways, ending up on my back. Another cow plummets to the earth beside me.
The sky darkens again and I raise my wand, pointing skyward and screaming "Arresto Momentum!" A light green Ford Anglia, Arthur's replacement for the auto Ron and I wrecked, stops inches from my face. I scoot out from beneath it just as I hear a horrible crash-Fawkes had dropped a lorry onto the poor Anglia, crushing it flat.
I feel a strange sense of foreboding and dart sideways as a sink shatters onto the ground. Then, I jump backward just as a statue of a giant ass plummets to the earth. I exhale in relief and it rolls over, pinning me beneath. I hear a flash of flame above and look up to see something very big falling onto me.
I banish the statue upward and see it punch a hole through the hull and foredeck of a fishing trawler that's falling fast. I scramble on hands and knees to get out of the way. I make it, barely.
Then the world turns brown as a cartload of manure is upset onto my head, burying me beneath.
I crawl out and see the Phoenix hovering above and am surprised to see that the creature's body has changed from before. It's larger now, more angular and aggressive looking, and armored in shiny, metallic feathers that glitter in the sunlight. Luckily, Fawkes seems to ignore me as I climb out of the sticky mess. Then, the Phoenix lets out a loud, wet fart and I'm forced to dive back in to avoid being burned to a crisp in the ensuing inferno.
Okay, that's just mean.
My naked body bursts from the heap as if it's a really shitty cake and I send a Killing Curse back at the bird. The spell strikes true and Fawkes plummets from the sky, slamming the ground with a thud. A solitary, blackened feather floats down behind it. To my chagrin, the Phoenix stirs, shaking its head and propping itself up. It narrows its eyes and I get the feeling that the stakes have just been raised.
Fawkes spreads its wings and begins to grow larger and larger. It continues growing until it has become as tall as a fifty-floor building. It squawks, a sound more like a rumbling roar than a birdcall, and its red eyes begin to glow. Two brilliant beams of light shoot out of them, scoring a deep furrow in the ground in front of me.
I run like Hell.
Fawkes's fury, no doubt fueled by that of his tenants, shows no sign of abating and I know I can't keep this up. Not much remains from our battle that hasn't been smashed or melted by the colossal bird. Worse, Tom's Apparation and Portkey wards are still in place and I doubt my Mage's shield could hold back those infernal laser beams.
A piece of the ship's hull, the last one large enough to offer much shelter, glows and begins to melt.
"Kreacher?" I say.
With a loud pop, he appears, his face covered in plum sauce. He's licking his fingers. "Master calls?"
Unfortunately, he's appeared out in the open and Fawkes notices. A red beam shines down and my House Elf ceases to be, replaced by a circle of charred earth.
I turn around to face the other way and call out, "Dobby?"
There's another loud pop and Dobby appears, his tennis-ball eyes wide at the sight of the gigantic Fawkeszilla beast stomping around outside.
"The Greatest and Bestest and Second-Most Craziest Wizard Ever Harry Potter Calls for his Dobby?"
"Second? Who's the first? No, wait, just take me to Number 12 Grimmauld Place!"
"Dobby is happy to help out the Great Harry Potter sir. Dobby is just telling Winky that…" The steel hull groans as Fawkes begins crushing it beneath its clawed foot.
"Do it now!"
Dobby does. We pop in front of the building and I sprint into the house. I take the steps three at a time, flying upward to the master bedroom room for the only thing I know that might work on whatever Fawkes has become. I always wondered why Dragons fear Phoenixes, but I don't any more. A loud thunderclap shatters the windows and I feel a sick feeling in my stomach. Fawkes has followed us.
I hurl open the door to my room and am knocked down as the building shudders violently-he's tearing it down in an effort to get to me. I find my footing and amble toward the closet, but the way is made difficult by the strong tremors under my feet. The room starts to list and I redouble my speed and reach the closet. A rafter snaps behind me and shatters the bed. Cracks run up the plastered walls and with a groan and a massive crash, the upstairs study appears in the master bedroom.
I snatch what I need along with Firebolt. A beam of red cleaves the house in two and I feel a moment of near-weightlessness as the building falls in upon itself. I Apparate away before I'm speared by a rafter.
I've chosen the location of our final showdown to be a desolate rock off the north coast of Scotland near a large and aggressive colony of Sirens. Muggles can't see this place. Magicals wouldn't want to.
I set down the lacquered box I'd retrieved from my house, the one with the special ward-breaking wands I'd picked up in China, and insert the dinner-plate-sized Molly-wands into the sheath. "Big tits" stretch the fabric tight. I put my hands inside the silk stocking. I know I'll only have one go at this and I have to make it good. Fate says it's time for the money shot.
I guide my broom upward with my legs and wait for Fawkes to arrive. I don't have to wait for long, though. A thunderclap announces the beast's arrival and salty wind howls in my ears. We stare at one another in silence for a long while. Then, his eyes glow as he charges up a freaky ray blast. I raise my hands, gather my strength, and press my magic through the squat wand. Avada Kedavra slides off my lips like a lover's name and a blinding, meter-wide blast of brilliant green jets from my wand. I put everything into the spell and pray it's enough.
The world erupts in a wash of white. My broom shatters and I fall.
My left eye is blind. My leg is broken. I'm bleeding from more places than I can count, but I have to see, I have to know that he's gone for good this time. It takes the better part of an hour, but eventually I limp down the kilometer-wide crater above where Fawkeszilla had exploded. In the center of the crater, in a smoking pool of hardened lava, is a tiny, fuzzy Phoenix chick that fumbles about. I pick it up and peer at it with my good eye.
One of its eyes is black and the other is red. On a whim, I try Legilimency on the red eye.
"Hiya Harry," Tom and Tommi chorus in a sing-song voice.
"You guys- you survived?"
"Of course we did, big guy," they lisp in union. Whatever evil existed inside Tom, it seems to have been consumed in the inferno when I defeated Fawkes. My shoulders slump in relief as my task is over, finally. Tom, Tommi, and I chat for a while longer and say our goodbyes when Fawkes, annoyed, leaves a mess on my hand. Phoenix poop, even from tiny chicks, burns.
Watching the Phoneix flame away with the remains of Voldemort is at once comforting and disquieting. The evil blight on his soul is gone for good, though it's disconcerting to see that spending all those years in Ginny's head apparently had the same effect on one's masculinity as immolation in Phoenix fire.
I can't help but think that this may not bode well for my future.
This is the end of my story, for the most part. After healing and some shameless groveling, I get reinstated to the Auror Corps. On the bright side, I get to partner with Tonks, but we're Jenkins's subordinates now, always drawing the least desirable jobs. It just gives us motivation to find new and creative ways to make the man's life Hell, I guess.
I find, much to my amusement, that our little explosion causes an international incident, with Great Britain accused of having broken a moratorium on the testing of Muggle nuclear weapons. The lack of any fallout or radioactivity helps assuage things slightly, though the ambient magic throws off the scientists' instruments. In the end, after strategic use of some wide-area Confundus charms, it's written off as some kind of paranormal anomaly-some weird combination of UFOs, Red Mercury, and acid trips sure to be the subject of Internet conspiracies for years to come. It does make things tense at the Ministry, however, and Scrimgeour is ousted after a successful vote of no confidence in the Wisengamot.
After a protracted period of wheedling with the new Minister, a corpulent Witch by the unfortunate name of Marjorie Murders-McMuffins, we finally gain access to the facility to send Molly's mind back into her body. With Hermione's reluctant help, we re-attach the Soul Bond between Ginny and me, though with all the complications, there's an unfortunate side effect: every so often, Molly and Ginny swap bodies with one another for a spell.
Ginny and I restart our relationship, much to the annoyance of the Weasley boys, but Molly breaks in her new voice by laying down the law. They leave us alone, though if we do get married someday, I suspect I'll probably have to ask Travers or Viktor to be my best man.
The situation with Ginny and Molly makes things a little awkward at times, but it could be worse. Working for us is that Molly and I share a special relationship. We understand one another on a level few ever attain and I know that I have my mother-in-law's deepest respect, if not her love.
After eight months of charms work, a hundred trips into Dumbledore's Pensieve, and a housewarming party to end all parties, the Burrow has been rebuilt exactly as it was before Tom destroyed it. The first night back, Arthur Weasley sits in his new home upon his new sofa, a Sunday Daily Prophet under his arm and a mug of hot cider in his hand. He smiles as he hears Molly humming in the kitchen.
"Oh God, Harry, just like that. Don't stop…" He looks up as the unmistakable sound of lovemaking can be heard upstairs.
Molly stomps into the room, brandishing a rolling pin. "That tramp! How dare she!"
Arthur puts his hand on his wife's arm and gives her a kind smile. "Now, now, Mollywobbles, Harry's a good lad. Let's let them have their fun, just this once."
Molly huffs. "Dad? I'm Ginny tonight?"
Omake: (Written by SomeGuyFawkes)
"Be careful what you wish for," Tom thought as he watched his home star flare out for the last time. He'd wanted to defy death, and he had-after a fashion. True, the greater part of his soul had perished on that island, but his final Horcrux had remained in Potter. When his nemesis finally passed on, the liberated soul fragment had sought him out and his mind was made whole again.
But he was trapped inside a thrice-damned demon of chaos, a Phoenix. And the damned thing was always getting snared by doddering fools with more power than sense-who had preachy dispositions.
For 4 billion years, BILLION, he'd suffer as his host was drawn to these menaces, as if by magic, and Tom would have to endure several decades of the same old torture with a new face... or, er, tentacle. He never could convince the flaming turkey to kill them, either.
Tom knew he was in Hell. The dying star had swallowed the very Earth, yet he still had no release, no sweet blissful death. Worse, he could already feel a "mind"-full of complicated schemes and "good" intentions calling across the cold endless void.
Author's Note and Acknowledgments: I'm grateful to the folks at Alpha Fight Club for all their help on this chapter and on the story. I'd also like to acknowledge valuable feedback I received from those at Darklordpotter, where this story was posted in Work By Author. I'd like to call out a few for being particularly helpful and whose comments made this twisted tale come alive: Nukular Winter, BajaB, SomeGuyFawkes, darklordmike, Scaryisntit, Voice of the Nephilim, IP82, japanese_jew, Garret PI, Traveller, Taure, Heather Sinclair, respitechristopher. I was moved to write this piece after some lengthy message exchanges with nonjon, who encouraged me to try something somewhat less bleak and angsty than Dagger and Rose. If he ever reads this, I hope he isn't too disappointed.
As a final note, if you've enjoyed my work and you're interested in reading some original fiction penned by several of the biggest names in the fandom (jbern, Rorschach's Blot, Joe6991, Shezza, Clell, WhyDoYouNeedToKnow, Heather Sinclair, and others) and me-don't ask how I found myself in such august company-please see jbern's author page on this site for information on an anthology we've put together and that will be available in a few weeks.