Author has written 45 stories for Harry Potter, Quantum Leap, Buffy: The Vampire Slayer, DC Superheroes, Young Justice, Futurama, Ironman, Bewitched, Freakazoid, Munsters, and Monty Python.
According to my stats, an amazing number of people have been looking at this, so maybe I ought to put something profound here:
- But then I realized that I don't really have that much to say that's all that profound...
I'm working steadily on chapter 23 of Technomage. I've finished with the first task and am dealing with the aftermath of the Dragons at Hogwarts. Revelations about Viktor Krum will take up part of the chapter.
Then, of course, the Ball. Harry will attend with Padma... and rather than moon over another Champion's date, actually dance and show his date a good time. His father raised him better than that.
Chapter 23 will end with the completion of the 2nd task... which will NOT be the 'Retrieve A Hostage from the Lake In Scotland In February' nonsense from canon.
As I've noted before, with the exception of the first, the tasks of the Triwizard were snooze fests for the audience, which is why I'm only keeping the first and coming up with original tasks for the 2nd and 3rd.
Status of my current works:
Harry Potter and the Invincible Technomage: Chapter 23: About 8.3k words, aiming at 10k.
Harry Potter and the Distaff Side: Chapter 17: 4k words aiming at about 8K
A few scenes from a story I playing with when I can't get the words to flow on my current focus; Working title: Doesn't have one yet... Something Venture Brother-ish
“Master?” Byron Orpheus called as he stepped out into the featureless plane of the Necropolis.
“Over here Orpheus the Master’s voice echoed from a bank of clouds to his left. As Orpheus approached a huge head appeared in a fountain of flame.
“Master? This is how you greet me this time? Not as the horse that killed Catherine the Great? Not as a three headed dog fixated on its own genitals? Not as my ex-wife?”
“You sound disappointed Orpheus,” the Master noted.
“Well, it’s just that this is so… Wizard of Oz.”
“Hey! the Master said with the fountain of flame flaring. “Don’t diss Oz. That was some of Judy’s best work. Pay no attention to the omnipotent being behind the curtain!
“Well, yes…” Orpheus wondered to himself what lesson his Master was trying to teach him this time. “Master, I have received a letter…”
“From the Guild of Calamitous Intent, yes I know. What do you want to do Orpheus? Toady for Dr. Venture or take your Order of the Triad and really strike out on your own?”
“I try to be charitable Master, but Venture is…”
“He’s a dick, yeah the head floating in the fountain of flame appeared to shrug. “What are you going to do? His father did a number on him. Nowhere near what he’s done to his own kids, but there you go.”
“Well, yes. This is why I have come to you, Master. Who is the boy who needs a mentor? Is he worthy of the fearsome powers of Necromancy?”
Again the head shrugged. “I don’t know if the kid should be trusted with learning Necromancy Orpheus, he’s had too many people close to him die. The temptations would be terrible to live with. The kid himself is all right. Despite growing up in an environment that would curl your toes, he’s still turned out to be a nice guy. You could be a positive influence in his life… and frankly, he could use the laughs.
“So you’re saying I should accept the offer Master?”
“No Orpheus, I’m saying that you should consult your team and see what they think, and then do what’s best for all of you,” the flames flared again. “The boy’s antagonist isn’t the most pleasant fellow as you might imagine. This path would be fraught with substantially more danger than your group is normally exposed to… Well, except maybe for your pal Jefferson.”
“You know of this villain, Master?”
“Oh yeah. He showed up here himself in the early 1950s, searching for immortality. I tried to tell him that it’s not all it’s cracked up to be, and he was a real dick about it. I ended up having to banish him for being annoying. He’d already done some jacked up things to his soul by then and has done more since. It served him right to have his astral ass handed to him by a kid
Orpheus thought for a moment. “The same child that needs mentoring?”
The head in the flames nodded. “You need to do what you need to do Orpheus. That’s all the guidance I have for you.”
“Albus, this can’t go on.” Moody said swinging his good leg up onto a chair so that he could massage the knotted muscles. “We’re losing this fight. You have some top flight fighters in the Order, but expecting us to act as body guards is insane. It’s not what we’re trained for.”
“How bad is it Alastor?” the Headmaster asked.
“There have been five attempts on Potter’s life in the last 20 days since he’s returned to Privet Drive.” The former Auror said. “We’ve stopped them all, but the cost has been high. Mohr, Kincade and Armstrong have all been killed; the oldest Weasley, his Frenchie girlfriend and Jones have been severely injured. This morning we lost Fluffers and Gimp, and I almost lost my good leg.” Moody gestured to the limb he was currently massaging. “If you want the boy protected you need to move him to a secure location, which you’ve always refused to consider, or…”
“Or what?” Dumbledore asked dreading the obvious answer.
“Or you need to call in a few of the favors you’re owed and get the body guard that Potter needs if he’s going to live long enough to face Riddle again,” Moody paused for a moment as he worked out a particularly painful cramp and then continued. “I know you don’t like his methods, but you have to admit the man is effective. Magical attacks, physical attacks, even mental attacks, he doesn’t care. He identifies the threat, and takes it out. Permanently. Hell Albus, he might well be that ‘power the Dark Lord knows not’ you’re always going on about.”
Dumbledore grimaced. “Alastor, you don’t understand…”
“I know that it’s never easy to deal with an Ex Albus, but if you want Potter to survive, you’ve got to contact that damned Alchemist and use his contacts to extend an offer to the world’s best bodyguard.”
“What is this?” the blond man asked holding up the sheet of paper.
“It is a standard notification of Change of Nemesis my Sovereign.” The man known only as Ward said. “Guild Operative Torrid has requested a change of nemesis from the Order of the Triad to, how did he put it? Oh yes, anyone less lame.”
“No, not that. This bit about a non Guild antagonist attacking children?”
“Regrettably that is true my Sovereign,” Ward's counterpart Watch answered. “He was approached for membership in 1978, but he declined, despite a keen interest in our group insurance package.”
“Hmm,” the Sovereign murmured in contemplation of his next move. Attacking children? He could not allow this to stand. This fool might end up being associated with the Guild due to his past interest. His tainted brush could paint the entire organization, as the Sovereign's predecessor had learned when a low level Guild operative had turned out to be a member of NAMBLA. It was years before the Guild had been taken seriously again.
“Find him,” the man commanded. “Find him, and have a Black-Out team keep him under surveillance.” The Sovereign paused and examined the documents in his hand. “This Voldemort… Seriously? Voldemort? He calls himself ‘Flight from Death’?”
“I believe he intends it to be Latin for ‘Flight of Death’ rather than the French ‘from Death’ my Sovereign.” Ward answered.
“Whatever,” the Sovereign said with a sigh. “As soon as they find this independent, I want to speak to him.”
“He will be brought before you my Sovereign,” Watch declared.
“No, I will go to him, no sense in revealing our power to this loser. Inform me when he is found, and I will impress upon him the error of his ways.”
“Now let me get this straight,” Jefferson Twilight said with a pained look on his face. “In order to get a Guild registered Arch, we’ve got to go mentor some kid who’s being arched by a non-Guild villain?”
“They prefer to be called Antagonists Jefferson, but basically, yes.” Byron nodded.
“And it’s in Britain?” The Alchemist asked a look of distress crossing his normally happy features. “You know I’ve got reasons not to go to Britain.”
“And what the hell am I supposed to do there?” Twilight asked. “The UK isn’t exactly a hub of Blackula activity."
"Given what I've learned of the boy Jefferson, all of us will likely be kept quite busy with his training and dealing with those vile creatures who keep trying to kill him." Orpheus pointed out. "Al, I know you would just as soon put your past history with the magical folk of Britain behind you, but for the good of the team, I beg you to reconsider... Unless of course you'd like to work with Rusty Venture."
The flames in the fireplace flared and turned green. Both Twilight and Orpheus were immediately on guard, but the Alchemist waved his hand to calm them.
"Don't worry, this isn't anything important," the balding man turned his attention to the green flame. "Yeah?"
"Nicholas, it's Albus... Could we talk?"
"What is is Orpheus?" the slight bald man with the goatee asked in an impatient manner, "can't you tell I'm working?"
"My apologies Doctor Venture," the Necromancer said in his usual and quite annoying dulcet tones. "If I might present Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts School. Professor Dumbledore has a proposal what would likely be mutually beneficial for the pair of you."
The bald man raised an eyebrow taking in the Merlin wannabe. "Mutually beneficial? I'm listening."
"I understand through your friend Byron here that you will be needing to find a place to live while your lovely compound goes through something of a cleaning," Dumbledore started. "What I propose is that I offer you a one year teaching contract at my private boarding school."
"Teaching? Look I don't mind the occasional lecture series, but I'm in the Super Science game here, I'm far too busy to teach full time."
“Doctor Venture,” Orpheus intoned dramatically, “We both know the decontamination required of your facilities will take the best part of a year. The school in question is in a magical enclave, and the course you would be teaching would be on the modern world of Science and technology… your specialties.”
“And you will be well compensated for your expertise…” Dumbledore said, sliding a slip of paper across the workbench.
Venture’s brows rose toward the ceiling. “Well…” he said as if searching for the right words. “This would be adequate I suppose… but what about my sons?”
“We have never had Muggle… Normal children enrolled at Hogwarts,” Dumbledore said hesitantly. “But certain allowances can be made.”
“Wait…” Venture began digging through a large drawer in his workbench. “You said that yours is a magical school?”
“Well… Yes,” Dumbledore admitted wondering if he wasn’t going to regret ever making this offer of employment.
“Is your school for chanters like Orpheus or wand wavers?”
“Wand…” Dumbledore blinked. “What do you know of magic?”
“Wands eh?” the odd little man said as he pulled a small box covered with yellow and magenta trifoils from the drawer. “What do I know of magic? I told you, I’m in the Super Science game, there is damned little I haven’t encountered. This isn’t my first rodeo you know.”
“Doctor Venture,” Orpheus sighed.
“There they are!” the slight man said as he opened the box and revealed a pair of chrome plated rods. “Venture Industries Tech Wands!”
“Tech wands?” both the magic users asked.
“A little something my father slapped together back in the day. We’d run into some of the wand wavers during one of our adventures and Dad was annoyed to find something he couldn’t do,” Venture explained. “So he developed his own methods. ‘Manipulation of quanta via force of will and stick waving’ he called it. The boys can use these.”
“What a marvelous invention,” Orpheus said as he picked up one of the wands and willed a single red rose into existence. “Why did you never market them?”
“Lawsuits mostly,” Venture explained. “Some kid gets hold of his father’s tech wand and creates a T-Rex, which promptly eats him and it’s somehow my fault. No thanks.”
“Will you be bringing your body guard along?” Dumbledore asked innocently.
“I don’t really see the point,” Venture said. “None of my usual enemies are likely to be around a magical school. I’ll just give Sargent Hatred some time off.”
“Hatred?” Dumbledore asked, suddenly concerned. “I thought Brock Sampson was your bodyguard…”
“Brock? No, I let him go a few years ago,” Venture said with an airy wave. “His new groups keeps house here on the compound though if you want to speak with him…”
- For anyone who cares, I've also got an original piece or two over at fictionpress.com...