The morning After.
Cornelius Fudge knew that he was very ambitious. No emotion was more strongly felt that the desire to be powerful and influential and other adjectives that made him sound like an impressive wizard. He wanted to be the one everyone looked up to, the one they all turned to in a crisis. He wanted to see his face in newspapers, be interviewed on radio, and have his own private box at the Quidditch world cup. He wanted to mingle with the wizarding royalty of continental Europe, be invited to meet with the magical scientists of the United States, maybe even mix with the influential mystics of East Asia.
He was, in fact, driven by ambition. It was his sole goal, his dearest dream. It drove him to achieve in every aspect of his life.
But sometimes...sometimes, he was also driven by the bus.
The Knight-Bus, to be exact.
His beloved wife had told him that he couldn't distance himself from the people if he wanted his dreams to come true. She insisted that he had to see how they lived, be a part of them, and what better way then taking the bus?
He thought she might just be trying to get him out the house earlier so she could hold high tea with her upper class friends.
He grumbled slightly to himself as somewhere behind him a witch began to scream about…something. Something that was very loud and was causing a ripple effect of commotion through the three stories of the bus. He rolled his eyes at the easily-excitable wizarding community and tried not to punch the person to his left who was trying to steal his briefcase for the fourth time-
'Calm down, Cor,' he told himself. 'Calm down. Think of your media training. Think of your goals. Think of Doreen. Keep calm. It is only for a moment, you'll get off the bus in a couple of stops and it won't be for much longer and keep calm, for ambition's sake, keep calm!'
He clenched his fist, turning slightly to glare down at the man sitting in the seat to his left in what he hoped was a very intimidating way. The man smirked and flicked his long chestnut-brown hair over his shoulder. He was unshaven in the cool-looking way people in their twenties could get away with, but no one else could unless they wanted to look like they were homeless and eating out of rubbish bins.
This man was obviously noteating out of a rubbish bin though, as he was dressed in high quality robes of the latest fashion and carried himself with what could only be pure-blood superiority. The bus lurched forward and Cornelius struggled to stay upright, grasping the handrail tighter as he attempted to pull himself back into a reasonably straight position. The long-haired man didn't seem to be affected by the jolting movement, and simply smirked some more, shaking his head at Cornelius' attempts to regain his balance with amused smugness.
Cornelius slapped away a hand that was straying to close to his briefcase and huffed, turning to stare over a squat witches head and out the window on the other side of the bus.
Cornelius turned away from the nuisance to see Augustus Rookwood from the Department of Mysteries fighting his way through the crowded aisle to where Cornelius was standing. He nodded at his acquaintance (for a friend was someone he trusted, and Cornelius most definitely didn't trust Augustus Rookwood) and straightened his Bowler hat. It was better to have many acquaintances then none at all. And at least with this acquaintance, he knew he wasn't trusted in return. The Unspeakable was only chatty because he never gave anything away.
"Augustus! it's good to see you."
"Indeed. You won't believe what I just heard. And apparently, it's straight from the horse's mouth!"
Cornelius smiled fakely. He didn't have time to exchange gossip. He also didn't have time to alienate potential allies. The election was only a year away after all.
"What is it?"
"They say, and this is gossip mind you, but they say that You-know-who has been defeated at last!"
He hadn't been expecting that.
'Remember the Media Training!'
Augustus nodded, a carefully formed smile playing across his lips, stretching the pock-marks and scars adorning his face. Cornelius decided he really hated the old pureblood families sometimes. They were just too hard to read. Which was probably why Cornelius couldn't understand why Augustus' smile didn't quite match his eyes. Too bad they had such a powerful influence on the Magical Government, or he would get rid of them at the first chance he got.
"I know, that was my reaction too. No news yet on whether it's true or not, but I thought you might like a heads up."
"Ah, yes. Thanks."
The bus screeched to a stop and every one on the same level as them lent slightly to the front before jerking back into normal bodily positions. Augustus smiled, his icy eyes boring into Cornelius' with something that he couldn't read.
"It's alright. Keep an eye on the Prophet, I'm sure they'll have more information soon. I've got to go, this is my stop. See you around!"
With that, the Unspeakable disappeared amongst the witches and wizards. Now that he had been told about it, it seemed to be the only thing Cornelius could hear. Whispers and murmured speculations that flitted around him with increasing urgency were on the lips of everyone in the bus. Every one was speculating, discussing, debating it.
Except, it would seem, the man with the long hair that was exiting via the front door, Cornelius's briefcase safely in hand.
There was nothing on his lips but a very large smile.
Rabastan grinned. He grinned a lot actually, it was a favoured past-time of his. But this was a very smug sort of grin, because it wasn't every day you got to steal the briefcase of the junior minister of the Department of Magical Catastrophes that goes by the name Cornelius Fudge.
And as Rabastan still hadn't gotten over being given an unwarranted detention by the former head boy during his first year, he saw this as an event where a smug smile was a most necessary accessory.
But to look his best, he needed something … special.
He thought seriously for a moment.
He needed a fez.
Conjuring it up, he set the bright red hat down onto his head, his smile becoming bright and cheery at once. He strolled into the Leaky Cauldron to complete the errand Bella had sent him on (and hopefully get some breakfast - Bella had kicked him out before he could get any.) with a new found bounce in his step.
Wonderful thing, a Fez.
On the other side of London from where Rabastan was happily pickpocketing ministry officials for useful information whilst scoffing down a large plateful of bacon and lamb's fry, a large brown rat scurried out of a drain and onto a nondescript doorstep. Its form morphed quickly into a man, who fumbled with the lock for a moment before almost tearing the door of it's hinges in order to get inside.
Peter slammed the door of his bolthole shut and leaned back against the cool wood. He stood there for a long time, his pants and wheezes the only sound in the dusty house. A dog outside began to bark, and Peter flinched and jumped violently. With a violent shake of his head, he pushed himself off the door and stumbled his way into the kitchen. Frantically, he began to open cupboards and drawers, searching desperately.
"No, no, no, where are they? Merlin, please, oh fucking hell! I can't have run out, I can't, shit, shit, shit!"
He found what he was looking for in the cupboard under the sink, and quickly tore the seal off the vial before tipping the contents down his throat. He could feel the effects of the calming drought immediately.
"Shit..." He leaned back against the kitchen sink and rubbed tiredly at his eyes. He'd been awake all night, jumping at shadows and every little noise. It had taken him four hours to reach this little house on the outskirts of London. Paranoia stalked him no matter where he went. Everyone was an enemy, everything was a threat, he couldn't escape from the fear in his own mind.
He truly was a rat.
Lily walked slowly down the staircase leading to the entrance hall, hugging Harry close as he squirmed and wriggled in her grip. She nodded to a couple of early-rising students heading to the great hall for breakfast as they overtook her. They nodded back respectfully, giggling as soon as they thought they were out of earshot.
Lily looked down at her younger son, who looked very pleased at his outburst. She smiled indulgently and tapped him on the nose.
"Yes, Harry. That's you!"
She laughed at him, kissing his forehead softly. He pressed his hand against her cheek, pushing at it and struggling to get out of her hold. An adorable little scowl graced his chubby features. Lily simply laughed further, turning off at the entrance hall and entering the small dining room that the headmaster had set aside for the guests.
She was going to enjoy every moment with Harry, even if it killed her.
"Once upon a time that was long ago, in a land very far, far, far away, 'twas feeding time for the small red-haired monster known as a child...uh...Reg, gimme a hand here, would you?"
Regulus smiled lazily at his brother from across the table before returning his attention to the paper in his hands. Sirius was forced to realise that there was no help approaching on that front, and turned back to his quarry.
Jack simply stared at him, distinctly unimpressed.
"This child was so very, um, smart and clever that the house elves could never trick him into... eating his very yummy although slightly gross-looking pink porridge."
Regulus eyes twitched in an unmistakably roll-y fashion above the paper.
Sirius poked out his tongue quickly, then continued.
"Which is fair enough because porridge is pretty icky and pink's a kind of odd colour for porridge, but his Daddy said he had to eat it before he ran away like a coward. Ah, the Daddy, that is, not the cilhd. The daddy is the coward. I'm sure the child-monster would be very, very brave if he was faced with unspeakable evils such as...pink porridge. Not at all like the cowardly daddy."
"Who are you calling a coward, Siri?"
Sirius looked up at the feminine voice as Lily approached their table, clutching a squirming Harry. Regulus nodded at her over his paper, spooned up a mouthful of his own porridge (so helpfully charmed turquoise by Sirius in a futile effort to get Jack to eat his own brightly-colored breakfast) before disappearing from view behind the Daily Prophet.
"Hey Lils. Mind giving a dog a bone?" He asked, dodging Lily's question with one of his own.
"Orridge!" Harry gurgled before Lily could reply. He was placed in his own highchair, and given his own bowl of pink porridge by his godfather as his mother took a seat beside Sirius. Harry smiled happily, scooping up a handful of his breakfast.
Which he promptly threw in Sirius' face.
"Oi!" Sirius said, wiping warm porridge off his face. "Make up your mind, Squirt!"
"Toast! Nana! Nana Toast!"
Sirius just stared at him. Regulus' eyes appeared over his paper to glance at Sirius, before he made a sound suspiciously like a snort and retreated behind his paper shield.
"Lily." Sirius said after a few seconds, "Your child is being healthy. Please make him stop."
Lily just smiled, and prepared Banana toast for the impatient toddler whilst Sirius pouted.
Jack whined sadly, "Nana toast." He said, looking at Harry's plate. Harry beamed at his brother triumphantly (if one-year-old toddler's could look triumphant). Jack pouted. It took only seconds for him to realize the solution to his porridge problem, and only a few seconds more for Sirius to understand it.
"Ugh!" He spluttered, when a bowl of porridge gave him a glancing blow to his temple, then spilled across the floor.
"Chapter Two...The Porridge Returns..." He mumbled under his breath as he rubbed at the spot that had been hit by the bowl. Both Lily and Regulus snorted. Harry chortled with laughter and clapped his hands.
"Nana Toast!" Jack cheered, waving his arms at his mother, who smiled at him and cut up the toast into pieces the toddler could eat. Jack continued to cheer, as Harry happily munched away at his own pieces of toast. After swallowing the last mouthful of his first piece of toast, Harry joined in with his celebrations, waving a piece of toast around. He was cheerfully oblivious to the flying banana pieces spraying across the table. Regulus scowled when a piece landed in his bowl of porridge, which he'd actually been enjoying. The colour reminded him of his most recent attempt to create a long-term Invisibility Potion.
Kreacher had had highly entertaining hallucinations for a week and a half.
Mother had not been pleased.
Bella had thought it was the funniest thing since he'd set Sirius' hair on fire when he was eight, even though both incidents had been mostly accidental.
But that was a story for another day.
Right now, he had to find a way to defend his porridge from the toddlers across the table. He met Harry's cheerful gaze determinedly.
The game was on.
Harry had only just begun to pelt Regulus with mashed banana when James flopped gracelessly into the only empty seat. He edged away from Sirius slightly, despite the two toddlers sitting between them. Sirius simply smirked and wagged his eyebrows at his friend. James was about to speak when he got a faceful of banana, courtesy of Jack, followed quickly by Harry dumping a handful of banana and toast into James' hair. James spluttered a bit and flailed a lot, before sighing, and letting his forehead meet the table with a loud groan.
"Why aren't you eating, Sirius?" Lily asked, ignoring her husband's antics and the growing competition between Jack and Harry as to who could hit Regulus with the most banana (the youngest Black had formed a shield charm around his corner of the table, but the toddlers didn't know that). Sirius grinned at her.
"I had breakfast earlier, in the kitchens. Did you see me and Reg's art in the entrance hall?"
"No, but I did see Minerva cleaning up what looked suspiciously like magical graffiti from the ceiling." Lily drawled, raising one eyebrow at the dog animagus. Sirius pouted.
"Dammit, McGoogles! That took us ages to grow! It was in 3-D too!"
Lily just laughed. James raised his head up from the table and sent them a doleful gaze.
"I saw it. It was horrible."
Lily laughed harder. James just sniffed, and turned to the wizard sitting next to him. Regulus raised an eyebrow at him, and continue to direct the flying pieces of banana to bounce off his shield and into the breakfast of the person sitting at the next table (James thought it might have been Kingsley, no scrap that, he knew it was Kingsley. The muscle-y baldness gave it away).
"What are you doing here?" He hissed. Regulus widened his eyes, and gestured to the spoonful of porridge he'd just put in his mouth. James waited while the cat animagus swallowed the turquoise mixture before raising an eyebrow expectantly.
"I'm here to see Professor Slughorn - I need to ask him about the properties of Dementor saliva when used in conjunction to acromantula venom." Regulus said. "For my Potions thesis." He elaborated when James looked at him uncomprehendingly. Lily suddenly looked interested. Harry placed a tiny hand over his father's mouth, preventing him from protesting the sudden change of conversation topic. Sirius snorted, and did the same to Jack.
"Where are you studying?" She asked. James looked horrified as Regulus turned to her with a scarily happy smile. Across the table, Sirius raised an eyebrow at his brother's cover story.
"Oh, at the Eclipse Academy for Magical sciences." He replied. "I'm studying advanced potions, ancient Runes and offensive magicks this year."
"Really? What's it like? I considered going there for university, but St Mungo's Healers Institute offered me a scholarship, and I didn't want to turn it down..."
Their new conversation continued along the same thread, growing and spreading out branches. James sent Sirius a terrified look, but the curse-breaker just sent him a lazy smirk from across the table and turned back to his original job of getting the toddlers to eat their breakfast.
James looked shocked at the betrayal, which, really, he should have seen coming.
It wasn't like Sirius was the most trustworthy of people at the best of times.
The doors to the the small dining room banged open, and a couple of very serious looking men with the Auror department's badge pined to their chests strode in, followed by Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall. The general chatter of the room's occupants, mostly made up of the Order of the Phoenix (plus Regulus), was silenced as they all turned to look at the newcomers. For a long moment, the only sound was the dull murmuring of the students at breakfast in the Great hall.
"The ministry has been informed by Professor Dumbledore that last night the home of Mr and Mrs Potter was attacked by Death Eaters." A man with a gaunt face and impressive sideburns stated in a booming voice once he was sure he had everyone's attention. "We would like to interview the family involved, as well as anyone who went their aid after the wards were breached. It is very important that we have your complete co-operation, any information you may have is essential for the war effort."
Everyone was listening avidly to the Auror, and so were unable to witness the forms of two wizards as they shifted into distinctly more four-legged forms, nor did they see the pair disappear behind a tapestry and out of sight. They left no trace of their presence in the room other then a bowl of half-eaten turquoise porridge, and a large pink 'S&R' painted in very loopy handwriting on the ceiling, embellished with black roses, oddly happy-looking silver skulls, and some very realistic strings of pearls.
James and Lily looked at each other with worry.
What exactly was going on?
Sirius let his form shift back to human as he and Regulus crossed the last of the ward-lines. He scowled as he marched down the gravel path leading from the castle, swinging a conjured black cloak over his shoulders as he walked. Beside him, Regulus mimicked his action with slightly less anger and a pinch more angst. They met each others eyes in a brief glance before swiftly continuing on their way.
The ministry was moving.
There was no time to waste.
Without saying a word, they both disappeared with a crack!
Bellatrix Lestrange generally considered herself a very strong woman. There was many things that did not faze her, not in the least her ability to torture someone until their very mind broke, without using a single truly dark spell. She had stood up and argued with the Dark lord, and gotten away with it. Men and women alike were absolutely terrified of her. She was one of the most feared witches in Britain.
Some things, however, still made her feel like a child getting scolded by their favourite house-elf.
Her sister was one of them.
"Puddles." Andromeda said dryly, her voice not giving away any of the anger Bella was certain she felt. "There are puddles on the ceiling."
"Ye-es." Bella said, attempting to widen her eyes and look like a kicked puppy. It didn't seem to be working, as the woman standing in front of Bella seemed to be unaffected. It wasn't fair - wasn't Bella supposed to be the elder sister? She had been born first! Why did Meda have to be so...no, not Sirius, that was her cousin. Who was a guy. She was looking for a word that sounded like Sirius but wasn't...Oh, Andromeda was speaking again.
" - Bella, Cissa and I left you here for a very short time whilst we went to pick up Nymphadora, and when we return, what do we find? That there are puddles on the ceiling." Andromeda finished, staring at her sister. Bella blinked rapidly. She knew how to deflect accusing stares!
"I was entertaining Draco!"
Andromeda leveled a calm, blank stare at Bella. "That is no excuse. Especially seeing they are all over the manor." This was an awfully hard stare to deflect...Andromeda had gotten better at this.
Bella pouted. "Well, it's not like they're hurting anyone..." She defended, staring up at one of her creations. The pinkish water rippled slightly as someone (Lucius, Bella thought absently, he had heavier steps then anyone else in the house) crossed the hallway on the floor above.
"They are a nuisance and will encourage mold and dampness." Andromeda stated. She was looking disapprovingly at her sister now. Bella felt like cowering, so she did. Dramatically.
Maybe dramatically cowering would beat this unbeatable stare.
Andromeda's expression didn't change.
"There's nothing wrong with a little mold!" Bella cried, flailing. Why wasn't it working?
Andromeda treated her with that stare again. "There is in a household with children, Bella. Actually, there is a problem with mold in every household outside of a male bachelor's grimy little flat in Knockturn alley! You would think that the Lady Lestrange would know that!"
"Now, that's not fair-"
They both flinched at the loud yell, wands out and argument forgotten as they hurried towards the foyer. The puddles on the ceiling above them shivered violently and even let loose a couple of droplets of water as heavy footsteps pounded down the hall on the floor above.
Bella skidded into the foyer, ready to curse whoever had yelled black and blue when she saw exactly who her target was. For a couple of silent seconds she simply stared, before bursting out in cackling continued to laugh as Andromeda stopped beside her, one eyebrow lifted in curiosity, and she laughed some more when Lucius appeared at the top the stairs all a-flutter.
"Stop laughing!" Rabastan said. He was dripping with pinkish water, his hair bedraggled and messy, and his clothes soaked. A scarlet fez sat forlornly on the floor beside him.
"What - in Salazar's name - happened?" Lucius asked from his place at the top of the stairs. Bella laughed even more. She hadn't stopped, because Rabastan had not asked nicely.
"It would seem that one of dear Bellatrix's creations has exploded atop of Rabastan." She explained with a sigh. "Bellatrix thought it would be funny to create puddles on the ceilings." She added, seeing Rabastan's confused look.
He didn't have time to reply before another puddle burst, sloshing pink water all over him.
"Bloody hell." He said over Bella's laughter. "I can't even walk through the front door without being attacked these days."
Barty sat in the window seat of his family's library, trying his hardest not to pout. Regulus had sent him a message through the enchanted mirrors to say that they were going to have to cancel their date - the ministry was already moving and Sirius needed Regulus' help. Barty knew that his boyfriend was sworn to serve the Lord Black above all others, but that didn't mean he had to like it.
'I really have to get over this,' He thought with a sigh. 'I knew Sirius would be an unbeatable rival if Regulus and I got together, and I still went ahead with it.There is no logical reason to be jealous. Especially seeing they're currently saving allour arses from a lifetime in Azkaban."
He shook his head, trying to get rid of the negative thoughts, and ran a hand through his hair. He grinned slightly when he felt it spike up even more. There was no time to be musing on things he couldn't change when he should be musing on the things he could. He returned his attention to the heavy book in his lap, and picked up his quill. He quickly immersed himself in...fixing his textbook. Really, how did these people think this was an effective method...
Barty flinched and looked up from his annotating of the Transfiguration text resting on his lap, his quill poised above the parchment. His father glared down at him, looking extremely out of place in the cosy library. Barty blinked. Despite what he'd told Regulus the night before, Barty hadn't actually seen his father in months. He'd had Winky notify him every time his father was home, rare as it was. He could see her now, peering around a bookshelf with worry. She looked like she was about to cry.
How his father had gotten past her, Barty didn't know.
He tried to suppress the desire to curse, to hurt, to kill that he always felt around his father. He knew his father wouldn't care that Barty was his son, if Barty showed signs of dark magic, or if Crouch Senior found out about Barty's...alliances... Barty was as good as dead. He'd be sentenced to Azkaban without a trial.
Bartemius Crouch Senior spared no one who might be convicted of criminal activity.
But Barty was the same, wasn't he? His father would not spare him the fate of a magical criminal, but Barty wouldn't hesitate to use his entire arsenal of torture techniques on the man who'd ruined his son's life with his mere presence (or lack of) and driven his mother into chronic illness.
Bartemius Crouch Junior spared no one who had wronged him the honor of becoming his newest target.
The only reason he wasn't cutting down this man now was because he didn't want to get blood on the carpet.
Winky had enough work to do as it was.
"Father," Barty said softly, schooling his face into an image of slight interest. All that time with Bella was beginning to pay off. Now, if only he could unleash his magic upon his father as well... "Is something wrong?"
Bartemius shook his head jerkily. "No. Get up." He stated, still glaring down at Barty. Without a word, Barty uncurled from his place on the window seat, setting Animagi - a guide to advanced human-animal transfiguration down on the plush cushion as he rose with all the grace Bella's teaching had installed in him. He met his father's eyes from behind a blank expression, noting absently that he was now taller then Bartemius Senior. That was new. His father had to lift his chin to meet Barty's eyes, which lessened the imposing aura surrounding the elder wizard. Barty fought to keep a smirk from his face.
He wasn't about to let his father attempt to intimidate him with one of the oldest tricks in the book.
His father gestured for him to walk, and he did so, still smiling bemusedly. Bartemius fell in step with him as they left the library. Barty had no clue where they were going, so he thought might be wise to ask, now that his father had proved he wasn't about to hex Barty. He'd had all the opportunities too, after all.
"Where are we going, Father?" He asked. Barty couldn't remember how he was supposed to act around his father anymore. Was he supposed to be quiet? He thought so, but it didn't seem quite right...he really wanted to see whether he could force someone to change into their animagus form without their consent...did animagus transformations hurt? Could he make them hurt?
"Downstairs. There is a couple of ministry officials who want to talk to you." Bartemius shot his son a glance from the corner of his eye. Barty continued to look pleasantly confused. It must be possible to make a forced transfiguration hurt, but he couldn't think how... "You did help deconstruct the wards at the Potter residence after the attack last night, I presume?"
Oh. So that's what this was all about. Well, why his father hadn't his father simply sent Winky to get him? There hadn't really been a need to fetch Barty himself, had ther-
"Why did you help deconstruct the Potter's wards? You are not an employed ministry warding specialist. Surely there were more qualified wizards for the job."
And there was the answer to Barty's question. his father wanted to know why he'd been there, most likely checking for anything suspicious in Barty's reasoning. Bartemius didn't want to be potentially embarrassed by his son, whether by inexperience on Barty's behalf or more...sinister reasons. Bartemius Crouch didn't careabout his family, he only cared about his job and his ambitions. Barty wondered what his father's animagus form was...something small and insignificant, most likely. He might as well grace his father with an answer.
"I am a free-lance warding specialist, father. The ministry occasionally forwards cases to me - so that I can get work experience before I graduate from Eclipse Academy, I expect. Is there a problem with that?"
Bartemius snorted, and Barty was sure that his father definitely had a problem with Barty's line of work. It wasn't the most prestigious of jobs that Barty could have chosen, especially when any and all Ministry departments would have been glad to take him. Barty had chosen his profession simply because it gave him a lot of freedom to pursue other... activities that Bella might set for him.
Being a Death Eater was hard work, after all, and that wasn't including Bella's lessons.
Not to mention he had a high maintenance boyfriend to attend to at all hours of the day.
It was lucky Barty was a genius.
He pushed open the door to the sitting room, flashed a smile at his poor, sick mother (she was shaking again...) before bowing to the two aurors seated on the couch. Their dark uniforms clashed horribly with his mother's disgusting choice of pastel-coloured upholstery. Barty flopped into an armchair, lounging back and grinning at his father's disapproving sniff. These two were interesting. He wondered if he could dig through their minds while they were attempting to interrogate him...there must useful information somewhere in those stupid skulls.
"Mr. Crouch?" One of the aurors asked, shuffling the sheets of parchment in his hands. "Uh, Junior?". The other one stayed quiet, preferring, it seemed, to glare at Barty suspiciously.
"That's me." Barty replied. He treated them with a broad smirk, whilst strengthening his mental shields and allowing his control over his magic to drop just a fraction. The lights flickered and he knew his eyes would glow for a second before he reigned in his magic and returned the setting to normal. He saw their eyes dart and meet in a confused glance, and he chuckled mentally with amusement. It was so fun to mess with the poor ignorant masses. He lifted his chin and stared directly into the gaze of his interrogator, feeling proud of himself when he saw the burly man gulp.
"What can I do for you, gentlemen?"
Hello~! Rae here! And isn't this a surprise...
I think I have seen glaciers write quicker then us. Not that glaciers can write, which actually validates my comment instead of destroying it with a rainbow light-saber and a glass of mango juice and vodka.
Well, at least i can tell you that after six chapters, we are finally starting to progress with the plot. That we do have. Somewhere. Hopefully we'll have this finished before the decade is out...
Not likely, but a girl can dream, no?
This one was mainly responsible for this chapter (hence the fact that this AN is being written from one person's POV), so any mistakes or errors or...glaring monstrosities can be credited to her. Because i am too impatient to wait for Mikki to proofread..
You don't want to see how slow we'd write without your lovely reviews to keep us motivated. Keep them flowing, darlings!
P.S. Rae should not be allowed to analyse HP - it tends to lead to long tangents about how the wizarding world's governing system doesn't work, and how it could be fixed. Also, how Purebloods fit within society and why the Black's remind me of Russia. Terrifying, no?
P.P.S. Can you guess what British TV program we were watching while writing the first part of this chapter? I'll give you a clue - Rabastan's hat is cool.