Magic, she decided, was not good for ones life expectancy.
Oh, most people would respond to this thought with shock and horror – she could hear it now…
"What do you mean it's not good for your life? Why, just the wave of a wand and you can get anywhere you want in an instant, or have your food cook itself, or have all the household cleaning done on top of that! Well, sure, there may be the few drawbacks of dementors, dragons and other such inconveniences, but magic rules all and solves all problems!"
The funny thing is, her original statement doesn't even begin to take into account the additional dangers of the so-called 'Creatures of the Dark' – the problem is that magic does very bad things to ones survival skills.
A wizard without a wand would sooner wither up and die than do such menial tasks as cooking their own breakfast or packing their own clothes – they wouldn't know how to cook without the carrots slicing themselves and the pots boiling water and whatnot; their houses would be dirty and their clothes would be unwashed within hours.
There might be some validity in the counter argument that magic allows a wizard to expect to live for up to 150 years – but think about it a moment. Just how many 150 year old people do wizards see in Diagon Alley? The answer is 'none' – unless Albus Dumbledore decides to go to Gringotts – and there is one simple reason as to why this is: they are all extremely large and/or frail from sitting around all day, using magic to get what they want while they spend the time yelling at their descendents, most of them going fairly insane on top of that (just take Sirius' mother as an example). After all, there is a reason that most Purebloods don't invite people home – they'd have to contend with the crotchety old people holed up in the living room.
Aiden eyed the man that was sprawled across the deck of the boat in front of her with something akin to contempt, them having landed on said vessel through some random stroke of luck. Aiden didn't know anything about said man other than the fact that he was a Death Eater and had pushed her through the Veil in the Department of Mysteries by tackling her from behind.
The wizard, who Aiden had mentally dubbed 'Idiot Man', had proceeded to try to curse her once they had landed, but Aiden had been able to fight back. Problem was, during the not-so-epic scuffle that had resulted, Idiot Man had managed to throw both their wands overboard.
She found herself relieved that her glasses probably had enough charms on 'em to survive through a Nuclear Bomb, otherwise she would have been in deep shit – what with the 'not being able to see more than the fuzzy ambience without them' thing.
Yeah, anyways, you do see where this is going, right?
Well, they had been stuck on said abandoned – she did mention that there was no one on said ship, right? – boat for oh, nigh on three hours now, and Idiot Man was apparently on the verge of suicide. He had been tossing around words like 'doomed for eternity' and 'kill me, kill me, oh Merlin, please kill me' for the past two hours.
Aiden found it vaguely amusing, in an I-would-kill-you-if-I-had-a-weapon-on-me-and-could-be-bothered kind of way.
Right about now would usually be the time that she revealed her super-mad wandless magic skills, right? Well, so far they weren't showing up.
She was pretty sure that they were non-existent as well.
So no help from that quarter.
She was drumming her fingers against the wood, amusing herself with guessing how much time it would take for Idiot Man to off himself or jump ship.
Fortunately for her, she was not a normal witch. And no, this had absolutely nothing to do with that stupid Girl-Who-Lived moniker. No, her 'mad awesome skills' were the fact that she had a little thing that (as far as she was concerned) was all that separated the muggles from the wizards – Common Sense (and can't you just taste the paradox?). Sure, most muggleborn wizards and witches have it as well, but only before being brainwashed into becoming wizarding sheep, irretrievably losing that fabled ability.
Well, that and a little thing she tagged as 'survival skills', which she personally defined as the ability to look after oneself in adverse circumstances.
Yes, Aiden Potter had been practising the art of survival skills from an obnoxiously early age, courtesy of the Dursleys, and it was in situations such as these that she actually felt that they deserved a quick and painless death, instead of her usual month-long 'oh god, kill me now' excruciating torture-before-the-act deal that she usually felt they deserved and had wished for. Oh sure, as a child (in this case the ages 3-7) she had wished for someone to pick her up to love her, but later she revised her opinion and decided that they had to suffer and preferably die before she went.
But enough of those cheerful thoughts: the thing to focus on was that she knew how to keep herself alive in undesirable circumstances, and she had a fair resistance to starvation and depravation – not like Idiot Man, whose stomach sounded like it was eating itself from the missed lunch.
While Idiot Man had gone into shock at the realisation that he had just lost the one thing that could have kept him alive and in a relatively good condition, she had gotten up and had a look at the 'ship' that they were stuck on – it was little more than a deck, cabin and a big-ish room in the hull. She had found a stock of rum and a bit of food that could hold up against expiring for a while, as well as a map in what had undoubtedly been the captain's cabin and a few books (written in another language, so no help there) and last but not least, clean water and a latrine. She was pleased to note that the food would last her, if she cut portions down to a little bit more than what she got at the Dursley's, for at least two weeks.
There may or may not have been locks on the doors and such, but she could state in complete innocence that whoever had put them on would have done a better job (the locks were practically primitive!) had they expected to keep people out. Really, there was a reason the Dursleys had checked her cupboard every night for anything that might be used as a pick – she had to learn to pick locks in order to get food when she was desperate from a young age – Giraffe-woman had often commented that she must have been 'Bloody Harry Houdini' in a former life. They, of course, put it down to mad 'freakish skills' but it wasn't – she had come to believe that the strongest force on this planet was a desire to piss off ones (borderline criminally negligent) guardians.
After reassuring herself that she wouldn't have to float aimlessly without rations for an unspecified amount of time, she had settled down and puzzled over the incomprehensible map (to her) and some on-boat entertainment.
Since Idiot Man was a Death Eater and solely responsible for this elaborate mess, Aiden had already decided that the man would suffer. Hell no was she giving food to the bastard that got her into this mess! She could have quite happily gone the rest of her life being 'manipulated' by ol' Dumbells and his Order of the Flaming Turkey.
Really, just look like a poor starved and naïve child and they think you don't notice that a stupid troll somehow randomly breaks into the safest place in 'The World' without warning and somehow the teachers don't know exactly where it is (when they know the second that you curse a red nose, antlers and a loop of Christmas carols onto Malfoy) and three first years somehow beat it with something as stupid as a club to the head… really. Not to mention that the 'safeguards' against Voldemort (supposed 'best-wizard-this-century') didn't stop three determined first years?
Anyone who couldn't see that is an utter moron.
Fortunately, all you have to do is slip past your two guard dogs and go talk to people from different houses to suddenly regain private conversations (wow! What a privilege!) and ask them to borrow books out for you. Even telephone the muggleborns to keep 'in the know' in the wizarding world – it's so simple!
Psh, Dumbells is an idiot. Aiden had always known the man was a manipulative old coot, but the best way to avoid him and slip 'under the radar' as it were, was to pretend that you are completely oblivious to the fact that your stuttering Defence Professor has a face sticking out of the back of his head and that said 'Twinkledork' has absolutely no idea what happens in your home life. It's just easier, because then you can get away with transferring your (illegal) Tracking charms to the broken television set in your room and slip off to meet up with Eliza Moon, Blaise Zabini, Anthony Goldstein and Susan Bones at the (curiously unmentioned) teen hangout of the Wizarding World that is strangely named the 'Creaks District' for some reason. Said district is also the place that underage wizards and witches go to use magic freely – muggleborns are often directed there so that they could keep in practise during the holidays.
So, it was an exchange of sorts – Aiden played the naïve and trusting kid, and Dumbledore played the concerned grandfather, and they got along wonderfully. Aiden even got to enjoy watching Dumbells frustration when she 'couldn't solve' the latest puzzle and thus had to be given a clue as unsubtle as oh… the disappearance of her 'best mates' sister, or the forced entry into the Triwizard Tournament. Huh! He even had Dobby complete the clue about the Room of Requirement when it seemed that Aiden hadn't 'solved it'.
Well, look where it had gotten her.
Stuck on a ship with a Death Eater that was probably less harmful than a new-born kitten at the moment and out in the middle of nowhere, on what amounts to a floating pile of logs. To add to her troubles, the map that she had unearthed was written on in another language and didn't match her understanding of (her admittedly rather fuzzy) muggle or magical geography lessons.
Aiden sighed and tilted her head to stare up at the clouds that were floating lazily past.
She decided not to ponder on how his situation could get worse.
It had been a full three days and four hours since Idiot Man had landed them wherever they were and there had been no indication that the world consisted of anything other than water. Oh, and sun – couldn't forget that. Stupid sunburn. Stupid weather. Stupid life.
So far, the weather had been like Dumbledore – Aiden could just tell that it was trying to lull her into a false sense of security before it turned around and destroyed everything. Sigh.
So far, Idiot Man had become what equated to her mental image of a victim of the Dementor's kiss – he just sat there, and only twitched when you poked him in the eye. She got this weird 'vibe' from him that lead her to suspect he was doing something with his magic – her latest guess was some kind of induced 'coma' to stop him from either snapping or to enable him to live through the experience – it didn't really bother her too much either way.
Hell, with her zip knowledge on this, he coulda snapped already with this being the result.
At least it was something to poke for entertainment, because you know all those cool adventure stories you hear about involving travelling by sea? Yeah, sounds great in theory, but in practise… let's just say that being stuck on a floating hunk of wood in the middle of nowhere and with a brain-dead Idiot Man sitting around, and with no idea if this particular voyage was going to end in three hours, three days or three months… can someone say monotonous and yet scarily frightening at the same time? What was she supposed to do if it sprung a leak? Or if some kind of sea monster (heaven forbid) decided that it was lunch time, and that Aiden à la BBQ was on the menu?
Either way, the future wasn't looking all that bright.
She had taken to jogging around out of sheer boredom, as well as stretching and whatever else popped into her mind. She admitted that it was quite possible that this was a new manifestation of her burgeoning insanity, but almost anyone who had come into contact with her knew that it would have happened sooner or later – there was a reason that the Dork Lord was drawn to kill her that night after all… the saying 'like attracts like' comes to mind readily. Just to qualify, we are talking about the 'insanity' factor in that, not the homicidal maniac factor… even if you are likely to have a few people agree on that with you.
She sighed for what would have to be the thousandth time in the last three days. If only the weather or whatever else would just go shitty already – it was the waiting that was killing her!
Something moved out of the corner of her eye, and she span around only to hear the very distinctive sound of fabric tearing. Her eyes zeroed in on the only thing on this thing that had fabric – Idiot Man. She approached him warily, but realised that his expression hadn't changed at all, nor had he moved from the position of a letter 'S' that she had skilfully arranged him into on the second day out of sheer boredom (with the handicap of not being able to touch him with her hands, just to make it interesting).
She easily noticed what disturbance had caused the sound – roughly where the left pocket of his robes had been now was a (clearly muggle) dufflebag. Her brow knitted – that had obviously been caused by magic, but she knew that neither of them would have been able to perform it, even if Idiot had been conscious. She approached, rather warily, and snatched up a stick that she had found in the 'captain's cabin' as she had mentally dubbed the tiny room and poked the bag.
When the stick did not catch fire and die, she examined Idiot a little more closely. She now saw the large tear through the flimsy fabric, covering his hip down to his knees (thankfully he had on pants and a top underneath, even if they wouldn't have even been fashionable in the 1920's) and that led Aiden to the conclusion that it had been under a shrinking charm – those things never held for long without some kind of anchor.
She grabbed the bag and found it to be light (no doubt attributed to some kind of lightweight charm) and carried it over to the relative shade that could be found against the side of the cabin.
She sat down and looked at the flap that would open the bag and reveal the contents within, enjoying the familiar feeling of something catching her curiosity and holding her attention for the first time in what felt like ages.
Unable to stay still for a moment longer, she gleefully opened the bag and unzipped it. Staring into it, she could see that it was one of those 'unlimited space' deals. Really, she should probably have cared more about essentially routing through someone else's stuff, especially when said person sat just a few metres from her, but she felt more cheated at the shitty contents of the bag.
It held no cool magical objects (unless you count the broken sneak-o-scope) nor did it hold any good food (sea rations sucked) or anything else that could have taken away some of the mindless boredom. Would it kill the dude to have a gameboy or something?
Yes, the bag was filled to the brim with dry, old-ish and complicated books. On a list of things you could possibly want to get out of the blue while stuck on a ship in the middle of the ocean, they would be right down there with 'diarrhoea', 'caught in a tsunami' and 'a hole in the bottom of said block of floating wood' for her.
So, dry books to her were about as welcome here as Voldemort would be to a children's birthday party, even if he brought the cake. And a circus. And a pony. In summary – Not At All.
Scanning over some of the titles, it was worse than she had even initially feared – hell, there weren't even some crappy romance novels in the lot – it was all dry facts about 'runes' and 'the art of warding' and '1001 spells that the ministry wishes you didn't know'.
…Well, that last one would have been awesome, but OH she forgot that she didn't have a freaking wand anymore! Too bad that book has just about zero use now.
She scowled as she looked at the titles of dry intellectual book after dry intellectual book – just what the hell kind of place was this guy at before being 'summoned' to the Ministry shindig to be toting around all these crappy books?
As she idly scanned a book titled 'Wards: Fuck with them wrong and Die' after seeing a few rune dictionaries and translating guides, she found a piece of parchment in the middle of a book titled 'Wards for the Mentally Ineffectual' that was written on in a messy scrawl.
Curious, she removed it and examined it. After turning the paper this-way and that in an attempt to better decipher the script, she made out the words before realising it read:
'Idiot. Yes, it is I – the arguably stupider person in this outfit who voluntarily took you on as an apprentice. Do. Not. Loose. My. Books. If you loose my books, I will (*content altered because of its excessively violent nature*) …and your descendant's decedents will feel it. I can promise you that. Do not wreak my books, do not write on my books, do not breathe on my books. Hell, why don't you just take this book and sit in a corner and study it. Like an apprentice is supposed to. Apparently, five years of studying Runes has done nothing to alleviate your idiocy or incompetency in the subject. Runes and Warding are not subjects for those who do not have two brain cells to rub together. Either visit St Mungos and check in or get another profession before either the job kills you or I do. That said, if you can manage to scrape together the prerequisite number of cells and manage to hold onto them, there are books in here that will allow you to study from the green-horn you are now to someone as intelligent, brilliant and all-round awesome guy as me. Not that I'm making any promises. You are pretty hopeless, after all. So, these are my orders for the next three weeks that I will be absent for: Study. LEARN SOMETHING. Grow a brain (if at all possible). AND, for God Sakes; DO NOT LOSE MY BOOKS!'
-YOUR Very Angry Rune Master, NH'
Aiden whistled at the note – whoever wrote that was someone worth getting tips from in the threatening department – that even scared her a little bit, and this was a tirade written on paper, not even directed at her! Not even the 'Snape Glare of Impending Doom' or the 'McGonagall Stern Frown of Disapproval' held that much water with her when she was suffering from face-to-face exposure! She was a little in awe of the person who could write such good threats, and also a little (the teeniest tiniest bit) sympathetic for the dude lying insensate on the floor.
Fortunately, the moment of weakness passed and she remembered the reason that this dude would probably be looking over his shoulder for the rest of his life – Idiot Man (it was nice to know that someone agreed with her) was the reason that he would never give the books back, not to mention that she was stuck on the ocean thinking about Voldemort wearing a tutu to a children's birthday party having made the cake and presenting it while singing a heartfelt rendition of 'Happy Birthday' while sucking on lemon drops.
Yes, she was fairly sure that the words 'mentally unstable' were probably left in the dust a while back – that disconcerting image of ballerina Voldemort would surely qualify her as a resounding and concrete representation of the mentally Insane.
But she had long ago accepted the harsh reality – 'sanity' was a label to be discarded as necessary – look what it did for Al… ok, er To… hmm. There's gotta be a good representation of the embodiment of that philosophy. Somewhere. Right?
Ok, she was deluding herself.
Calmly gathering up the shards of her sanity, Aiden glanced at the dry intellectual books that had come as a (more than welcome) distraction, even if the things themselves were not wanted.
Sigh. Reading those stupid things would probably only succeed in pushing her further towards that line we call 'irrevocable insanity'. And that just wouldn't do – if you reached the 'drooling and insensate' step of insanity, it ruled out all the fun of the whole 'tenuous grip on sanity' deal.
Aiden quickly stuffed the dry intellectual crap in the bag again. If reading one of those books ever sounded like a good idea, she'd know she was bat-shit crazy.
She had survived all of a day of her twitching fingers and side-long glances at The Bag – the bag that was filled to the brim with oodles of dry, intellectual books – before reading those monotonous and brain-tenderising books had actually sounded like a really good idea.
Yes, she felt bad for her own terrible lack of resolve as well. Not to mention that her sanity no doubt now equated to the dregs left in a coffee cup after you finish drinking it. Atrocious, that's what it was – without a doubt.
But there is something about sitting around without anything to do but contemplate your Impending Doom (either by the weather doing a Dumbledore or the food running out and starving to death – take your pick) that makes muddling through those manuals sound like playing a Quidditch match, or playing a few rounds of 'catch the firsty' with the Giant Squid.
Which really says something about how motivating the force of complete and utter boredom is, huh?
Well, the world wasn't about to start collapsing just yet – Aiden blessed her lucky stars when she spotted a book entitled 'Releasing the Beast: Animagus Transformations' wedged in the middle of a large dictionary on different Runes and how to translate and link them. The dictionary was discarded back into the Bag of Dull Things and she was immersed in the technicalities of growing fur.
She really had nothing to do but take the odd break to eat/sleep/relieve herself, and with everything else never changing, well… lets just say muddling through extremely complex words and descriptions that could have been explained a lot easier was made possible.
When she finally finished the book (and was able to understand it) two days later, she felt better for the experience… or at least a little less bored.
She now had something to do, at least. As she understood it, there were two ways of becoming an animagus. One way guaranteed that you'd become one in the space of a few years or less. The other way held a significantly lower success rate, and a significantly vaguer time line.
Aiden guessed that the first way was how the Marauders and McGonagall achieved their forms, and included a long-winded process of brewing potions to force the transformation interspersed with practising transfiguring part-by-part and building up to the whole thing. That was the one in which you heard about freak accidents and wizards ending up half-horse and stuck in grotesque ways.
But one guess as to who did not have access to those specialised magical potions right now? Huh, if you answered that it would be the Potter caught on a floating pile of wood, then you just won the satisfaction of getting it right.
Then you'd turn to the next option, right?
Well, Option Number 2 was basically meditating on your animal. This worked on a wizards ability to change into an animal – if there was a natural ability and an animal within you, it is said that it will come to the person's call and make itself known, possibly when some unknown set of requirements were met. This one involved an instantaneous transformation, but it was hit or miss – it depended on if a wizard had the ability, and there were no guarantees or set guides as to how you convince your animal to appear to you.
So, she had spent a while meditating, and besides having a bit of fun in looking at the beautiful winter landscape inside her mind, no animal had suddenly inserted itself there since the last time, and she wouldn't know which cave she should start looking in to find one.
An undeterminable amount of time later, Aiden opened her eyes and took a moment to readjust to the darkness of night that had crept up on her while she was 'turned-off' to the world. There was at least one thing to be said about floating on a hunk of wood in the middle of the ocean – it made a beautiful picture of the night sky and stars.
She drew in a breath, then let it out slowly, and took in the peacefulness of the ocean, the dark stillness of the night, and the gentleness of the wind caressing her face and teasing her hair, and drew it around herself like a cloak.
She organised her thoughts and just let them empty; let herself think about everything and nothing at the same time, achieving complete relaxation and tranquillity. Now this was the real reason that she had muddled through those occlumency lessons – to get to this state of being – not asleep, and yet not awake; just relaxed and calm.
It was a weird feeling; just not thinking and concentrating on the sensations of the world.
Breathe in, breathe out.
Being, existing, surviving.
At her last count, she had been stuck on the hell-boat for thirteen days, a good seven days since she resolved to meditate a little before she went to sleep and woke up every day for the two-fold purpose of searching for her animal and just the plain relaxation it brought. It helped that the state calmed her down and helped her think about something other than the fact that there was only one day's worth of rations left, and that the water supply was mighty low right now.
Boredom had once again driven her into the intellectual books, this time grudgingly picking out the book titled 'Wards for the Mentally Ineffectual' that she had found the note to Idiot Man inside, but was pleasantly surprised.
The book broke warding down to the level that a five year old would be able to understand – it used examples and actual moving pictures of people carving out runes to ward a box, or just carving a rune and pushing their magic into the design – over all, it was at least amusing to look at the equivalent of a muggle 'do it yourself' video but on paper. The few basic runes and the basic methods of drawing them – you could use pens or an actual carving tool to make sure the runes wouldn't be compromised – were clearly written out, as well as the best materials to use to write on (anything from paper to wood to concrete to bone) were included.
Aiden was just happy that it was simple, and was incredulous that Idiot Man apparently couldn't even grasp the things in the book. Well, it was possible his 'master' was patronising him, but something told her it was probably a mixture of both.
Aiden shrugged – it wasn't her problem, the only reason she was even thinking about it was because she was so damn bored. Not to mention using it as a way to distract herself from the fact that she hadn't seen land in the past two weeks, and had only a little food left.
After that book, she moved on to other books – there was a dictionary of common runes, ways to read them and construct them to hold the meaning that you desire – those things were extremely exact, she found, and there was a basic sequence of lines that formed the main part of the rune that you added to in order to 'put on' your instruction. There was another that explained 'linking' – where you would put down a sequence of runes that strengthened its effect and stabilised the magic to make it last much longer, sometimes for centuries.
As far as she could see it, runes could be endlessly useful – sure, they were most well known for warding – creating barriers to keep people out (or in), which was the hardest and most complex of what they could do – but runes were also what enabled all magical objects to operate and continue working, simply because they were equivalent to 'anchors' for spells – pretty much written spells – and their presence allowed the magic to continue flowing, enabling enchantments and spells to last indefinitely – kinda like a magical battery, powering the spells.
Aiden had gotten curious of the duffle bag that contained the books and had a closer look at it, moving it around and examining it closely. What she had first assumed was just an embroidered pattern was, on closer inspection, groups of linked runes. Making liberal use of one of the dictionaries, she deciphered a few of their purposes – there was one for lightweight, another to repel water and protect the inside from any water that soaked the outside, an even more intricate grouping for the size expansion, preservers, charmed 'nothing interesting' suggestions, and a few others that she couldn't understand, even with the dictionary spelling it out for her.
Aiden looked at the bag in a different light after that – who would have thought about sewing runes into something as common as a dufflebag? There were corresponding runes on the inside, mostly to keep out muggles and any thieves (Aiden was surprised that she didn't suffer anything from that nasty group there) and she couldn't help but turn back to the books with a stirred interest, quite apart from the initial 'I am so bored I'll even read crappy books' interest that had been the initial motivating force.
She had managed to use her occlumency to make a new file to sort and order all the new information regarding rune formation and activation, and started going over it during her meditation sessions, managing to eat up more time through the past week.
But what she had been unwittingly drawn into out of sheer boredom and the lengths that she had sunk to alleviate it really had no bearing on reality.
In reality she was stuck on a floating hunk of bark, with very little food or water and the idiot that got her stuck there in the first place and still with no land in sight, nor any indication of land popping up in the distance.
She was screwed.
So, Aiden did what she could – she had stubbornly distracted herself from the ever increasing likelihood that she would die on the pile of logs in the middle of the ocean in the middle of a dimension that she had been rugby-tackled into. Fortunately, it was working well – at least until she paused long enough to feel the stirrings of anxiety in her gut.
She wasn't really surprised when, late that afternoon, she spotted something gathering on the horizon.
Because, lets face it: her luck sucked and she almost expected things like this to happen to her on a regular basis.
That 'something' on the horizon steadily grew and expanded, until the dark clouds were gathered directly overhead and blotted out the sky. Aiden packed away the book she was currently reading (titled 'How to: Rune creation') and stuffed in the maps and books in that strange language that she had found in the 'captain's cabin' along with the scant food rations that was all that was left on the boat before securing a tight grip on the boat's mast – after all, you could never be too careful and it looked like this storm was going to be bad.
So, not twenty minutes later when the sun had set and the clouds broke apart, rain suddenly pouring down from the heavens and the waves tossing the little boat alarmingly around, Aiden held onto the mast and duffle bag for dear life.
Aiden couldn't be sure how long after the rain started it happened, but before she knew it the clouds were roaring with the crash of ear-splitting thunder, lightning arching overhead.
She was soaked to the bone; hair plastered to her face and freezing cold in the midst of the storm, clutching stubbornly onto the wood in front of her. A glance when the boat creaked as it leaned almost too far at some time during the assault made her aware that Idiot Man was no longer on the boat, but there was no time to be worried about that.
The thunder was loud in her ears, the rain was pressing down harshly, the lighting forked vividly in the black sky saturated with the roiling angry clouds. Very suddenly, a wave of tremendous size gathered and Aiden could only watch in sheer terror as it made for the suddenly very small boat.
The wave crashed into the boat, and Aiden was ripped from the mast as it snapped under the pressure, only just managing to hold onto the bag as she was swept off the deck and into the violent ocean.
A/N: Hey guys, ya – another story. I've had this written for ages (I think since last year) and only decided in a fit of boredom to post it. I will warn readers that any updates for this will take a long, long time, if I ever decide to get around to writing them, although the second chapter will be finished and posted soon.
Disclaimer: Not JKR or EO.