Author has written 47 stories for Harry Potter, Quantum Leap, Buffy: The Vampire Slayer, DC Superheroes, Young Justice, Futurama, Ironman, Bewitched, Freakazoid, Munsters, Monty Python, and Legion of Super Heroes.
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 having troubles getting the words to flow on anything. I recently sat down and forced out the 2.2k words that became "It just tastes better", but that hasn't helped in the slightest. Chapter 24 of Technomage continues to not cooperate I'm up to 4300 words and just can't get the second task to jell. The third task is similarly going nowhere, though I do have the aftermath of the Third finished and I'm happy with it.
Death's Knight Chapter 5 is outlined and prepped. If Technomage or Distaff don't break free, I may end up moving on to it. Or possibly chapter 4 of Legion, which is also ready to go.
Status of my current works:
Harry Potter and the Invincible Technomage: Chapter 25 is fully outlined sitting at about 3.2k words, aiming at 10k.
Harry Potter and the Distaff Side: Chapter 18, fully outlined and sitting at: 5k words aiming at about 8K
Death's Knight: Chapter 5, fully outlined w/ Harry heading into space, and sort of regretting it.
Legion: Chapter 4, mostly outlined. Borrowing a concept or two from a favorite fic, just for the giggles
A few scenes from a story I playing with when I can't get the words to flow on my current focus; Working title: Second life... in which Harry moves to Australia post Voldemort because a dimension-hopping version of himself has shown up, and Ginny has fallen for the new guy, hard. Just a silly little idea.
"So," the goblin said, both hands palm down on the table top, his piles of Royals, Merinos, and Shraps between his hands, ever ready for violence, "Who the hell is Harry Potter?"
Harry's response was delayed by the arrival of the barmaid with a tray full of drinks. The Wizard lifted a pair of golden Royals from his own pile and smiled at the woman while adding a wink. "Ta, love," he said putting the coins into her hand before returning his attention to the rest of the table and his cards. "I believe it is my round."
"It is," Jason Bledsoe agreed as he raised the bet. The hotelier was also the mayor of the township of Dingobeer, and their host for the evening. "If you keep tipping like that, no one else in the place will be getting any service. I can't help but notice that you didn't answer Buckie's question."
"My name," the goblin hissed dangerously, tossing coins into the pot, "is not 'Buckie'. Call."
"Get over yourself, mate," the only woman at the table laughed. "You should have known that living around humans with a name like Buck-knife would earn you a nickname." She added her own wager. "Raise Five Merinos."
"A goblin's public name comes from the first weapon he wields in battle," the goblin snarled. "You know that Drusilla. None of this is explaining who Harry Potter is."
Harry examined his hole cards. A four of clubs and a nine of diamonds. He tossed them toward the center of the table. "Fold," he said with a sigh. "Lousy cards tonight. To answer your question, Buck-knife, Harry Potter is no one of any importance…"
"No one with as much money as you've thrown around is a 'no one'," Drusilla Mayweather snarked before matching the bet.
"Be nice to the child, Drusilla," Thomas Murphy admonished. "He isn't in your Arithmancy class, and he brings all this lovely cash to the table every Thursday night. I see your raise and raise you another five Royals."
"He's also straight, Tom," Harry interjected, "and if that isn't enough, he's also not interested in Weres."
"Both are easily corrected conditions," the Care of Magical Creatures professor leered.
"Pathetic, posturing posers," Bunji Bonner said as he folded his hand. "Why the sudden interest in our newest member, Buckie?"
Buck-knife waited until the pot was right and the flop was dealt before continuing. "Bet 10 Royals. My interest in Mr. Potter comes from an odd experience. I noticed that a Hogwarts educated English wizard had come to town, spent a fair bit of coin in buying and stocking his Sweet Shop, and that he was doing business with the Gnomes. So I reached out to the London Office to find out what was what."
"Call," Bledsoe said, adding to the pot. "And?"
"And I was told, 'don't ask about Harry Potter, don't approach Harry Potter, don't attempt to do business with Harry Potter, and under no circumstances should I ever annoy Harry Potter," the goblin explained while regarding Harry suspiciously.
There was a pause as all five of his competitors turned to stare at the young wizard.
"I see your ten and raise 20 Royals," Drusilla Mayweather said breaking the silence. "That is an odd reaction to a wizard from Gringotts, Harry."
"Not really," Harry disagreed. "The Goblins of Gringotts have a perfectly good reason for their attitude. A sensible no-nonsense people, the goblins. I've always liked them."
"That hardly answers the questions, Harry," Thomas Murphy pointed out. "Fold," he concluded tossing his hole cards in.
"Oh," Harry laughed, "was I supposed to be answering questions?"
"Smart arse," Buck-knife growled.
"Fine," Potter sighed. "If you must pry…"
"Oh, we must, we must," Tom Murphy said, demonstrating more familiarity with Muggle Cinema that Harry was used to from Wizards.
"I am persona non grata with Gringotts," Harry said, drawing it out, "because I robbed them."
Again, the players all stopped their game and stared at Potter. After a five count, Drusilla asked, "Is this your idea of a joke?"
"Nope," Harry responded, shaking his head. "I robbed them. I'm a bad man."
"They found you in the act and you were banished from Britain for your crime?" Bledsoe asked.
"Nope again," Harry grinned. "I broke into a high-security vault, took what I was after, and fought my way out of the caverns. I ended up having to steal one of the security Dragons to make my escape."
"Why are you still alive?" Buck-knife asked.
"Dragons aren't really all that frightening," Harry shrugged. "Just press yourself against her bare back, whisper sweet nothings in her ear, and you can ride her until dawn."
"You know what I mean," the goblin hissed.
"I got away," Harry explained. "And I arranged so that should I die, the details of how I infiltrated the bank under the goblin's noses, entered the supposedly secure blood sealed vault, and how I got away would be released to the world, and I made sure the goblins knew it. As you well know Buck-knife, the Goblin Nation, as a group, aren't huge fans of theft, but they have a deep, burning, respect for blackmail. So, my money, minus the cost of a replacement Security Dragon, was transferred to the Gnomes of Zurich, where I got a toaster for opening a new account, and I swore am oath to never set foot in a Gringotts branch again."
"You're serious," Drusilla said quietly.
"As a heart attack," Harry grinned. "It's a really nice toaster. 4 slices, and it does bagels."
The Arithmancy instructor shook her head. "Of all the things you could have said, that was the last thing I would ever imagine. Given your age, I suspected that the only reasonable explanation for a young man showing up alone in our little village would be a girl."
"Oh, there's a girl in the story," Harry sighed. "And she's where the story gets a little odd."
"A little odd?" Bonner asked. "How could the inclusion of a young woman to your story possibly be odder than robbing the Goblin Bank?"
"Well, she left me," Harry recalled.
"What is odd about that?" Drusilla demanded.
"She left me for me," Harry explained.
"I think you're going to need to explain that, Potter," Buck-knife interjected.
"Truth be told, she didn't leave me for ME," Harry admitted. "She left me for a dimensional traveler. A version of Me from another plane of existence, one where his Ginny had died and he dedicated his life to finding her again. She found that level of devotion to be 'romantic' for some reason."
"Oh, Harry," the older witch sighed, reaching across the table to take hold of his hand.
"I think I first realized our relationship was in danger when she suggested that he come to bed with us."
"Seriously?" Bledsoe asked, clearly shocked.
"Yeah," Harry nodded, "I don't care what anyone says, it wouldn't have been 'really advanced masturbation'."
"Okay," Bledsoe said, gathering his coins. "I'm out. New table rule for next week and every week thereafter, no one asks Harry anything about his life."
With agreements all around, the players gathered their chips and rose to leave the table.
Harry just looked around the table as each of his friends started to leave. "What?"
Several drinks later, at a much smaller table, Harry sat with Drusilla and Buck-knife discussing the news of the world. It was only when the conversation lulled that Harry brought up a topic that had been bothering him most of the night.
"I can't help but notice that you didn't show the indignation I've come to expect from Goblins when they learn that I'd robbed the bank."
"I'd wondered about that as well," Hardy nodded.
"Well," Buck-knife answered, reaching for another handful of the squirming maggot-like insect larva that Jason Bledsoe appeared to stock only for him, "If I were to tell the truth, I'm not much of a goblin."
"It's better for me than it was for my Da'," Buck-knife continued after swallowing his snack. "His dam is a," the goblin paused and looked about to make sure no one was listening in before continuing, "human."
"I had a professor at Hogwarts who had a goblin grandparent, and he faced a certain amount of prejudice, the same for you?"
"Ah, the famous Flitwick," Buck-knife nodded. "I've heard of what he had to do to gain respect among the humans. My own life has been similar, yet so very different. I had the intelligence and drive to rise in the bank, and the backing of a powerful clan. This meant that I couldn't be ignored. Instead, after I'd proven myself, I was given the management position of the Dingobeer branch."
"An opportunity?" Drusilla asked.
"A prison," the goblin sighed. "This branch offers no advancement opportunity. If I fail, I shame my clan, if I succeed, I can never escape this tiny town," Buck-knife took a long pull on his drink. "So, Harry, no, I don't share my people's problems with you. I don't hate you any more than I hate any other wizard."
"Good to know," Harry laughed.
"Good evening," a new voice broke into the conversation as a wizard took the sole remaining seat at the table.
"Headmaster," Drusilla nodded.
"Nothing better to do tonight, Jones?" Buck-knife growled.
"Nothing comes to mind, Bank Manager," the bearded man said, settling into the fourth chair at the table. "That I find you sitting with the person I was seeking out is but a fortunate coincidence."
"Oh, for goodness sake, Jacob," Drusilla sighed. "I told you I'd have my syllabus ready for your review by the end of the week."
"You certainly did, Drusilla," the Headmaster of the Dingomange Academy for Magical Studies nodded. "However, you are not the person I want to speak with either."
Drusilla looked at her tablemates. "I can't imagine why you'd want to speak with Buckie,"
"Buck-knife," the Goblin growled.
"So, you must want to speak with Harry." She concluded as if Buck-knife hadn't spoken.
"Me?" Harry asked. "Don't let my youthful appearance fool you, Headmaster, I am not of school age."
"Indeed you are not, Mr. Potter," the older man agreed. "I bring, depending upon your point of view, bad news."
Harry's only response was raising his eyebrows.
"Yes," Jones continued, seemingly slightly alarmed at Harry's unwillingness to play his games. "The bad news is that Bertram Bledsoe has come down with Dragon Pox."
Harry reached out to lift his drink from the table and took a long pull.
"The good news is that you get to replace him."
"Oh, Jacob," Drusilla said with a shake of her head. "Harry is far too young to have to deal with the curse."
Harry put his beer down. "Curse?"
"Dingomange has a class that is widely believed to be cursed," the Headmaster explained. "No one has completed a full year as it's instructor since 1926.
"Ah," Harry nodded. "And how does this cursed class involve me?"
"Well, it's your turn of course," Jones answered.
"My turn?" Harry asked. "How could teaching a cursed class ever be, 'my turn'?"
Jones blinked. "It's part of the Dingobeer covenant, all property owners take their turn."
Harry resisted the urge to facepalm. So that was what that odd bit of legalese in his deed paperwork had meant. He honestly hadn't paid much attention to it. Oh, well how bad could teaching Defense be? He'd had fun doing it for the DA.
"So, after living here for two months, it's suddenly my turn?" he sighed in defeat. "Aren't you worried that I'm awfully close to the age of your older students and that I might use that to have my way with some of the girls?"
"I will tell you the same thing I tell all the staff," Jones said sternly. "No public displays of affection in the halls. Keep it in your quarters."
"It's not that bad, Harry," Drusilla said soothingly. "The Wicked Witches' curse usually doesn't kill the teacher. Usually, it just results in debilitating injuries."
"Wicked Witch?" Harry asked with a smirk. "Did she forget to send her flying monkeys?"
Suddenly Jacob Jones was standing, leaning across the table to grip Harry's shoulders, forcing the younger man to look him in the eye. "Who," he rasped, "told you about the flying monkeys?"
- For anyone who cares, I've also got an original piece or two over at fictionpress.com...
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