This could be an introduction to a story called The Erised Desire.
Thought is enclosed like :this: in my stories; I believe that I got the habit from ElvenRanger.
I show emphasis as _so_ because italics sometimes upset my upload.
I am looking for a beta. All a beta needs to do is point at various things in my fics and say "Uh, dear? There are no blue elephants in Scabbers's... uh, Scabbers doesn't have a litterbox... and you should really stop Charming Severus into random leather objects..." You get the idea. It would be a full-time job if I ever wrote anything.
~~~~~~~~~
:I am a complete idiot. I have no idea what I'm doing.: She took a moment out of her headlong rush to the library to snort hysterically. :Ron and Harry would find that funny, maybe. All I am is scared. Really, really scared. If I don't do this for a _reason,_ it won't work, and I have no idea why I'm trying it except that I want to _know_ ...oh god, what is happening?: The spell ingredients in her arms were moving on their own, all in the same direction. Upwards and to the left, and the staircase was shifting...
**
The professors of Hogwarts had a job ahead of them, and more than one of them was desperately worried about it. They were trying to dismantle an enormously old magical artifact and frankly, they had very little idea of how.
They knew everything ever written about it, of course; they had one of the premier Charms experts in the _world;_ they had magic expertise and pure magical _energy_ in the same amounts that the Egyptians had used to entomb Tut, but it didn't feel like enough to deal with something that if they allowed it to (and oh, they wanted to allow it to, each and every one of them, in their guts if not in their hearts) could reduce any of them to quiet, immobile incoherence.
Last Hogsmeade weekend, they had descended en masse upon the London Wizarding Archives. They had rifled the thousands upon thousands of well- packed shelves for _three days_ with the help of several time-turners and a filing system that had made the Archives the first place and the last that any researcher went when looking for obscure information. The Archives were neatly catalogued and _constantly_ updated, and if Miss Granger had known about them, she would have slavered.
Bratt & Massy's Regal Reflectors, the most famous wizarding shoppe for mirrors and any enchantment-supplied glass, had been caused to forcibly donate three wand-technicians and quite a bit of experimental silicon to the purpose. That they had been compensated monetarily for their work was immaterial; they had not had a choice in the matter.
And now the moment was at hand; the draining spells were in place, the Disenchantment Charm lying waiting to be fueled by the power of seven witches and wizards exemplary for their self-control and maturity. And almost constantly they had to nudge each other away from the compelling sights that so tugged at their bodies, minds, and selfish souls.
A strand of potent power at a time, the energy that pulled at them would be carefully unwound into the castle's reserves for the almost-certain future need. There had been some talk of using the pre-programmed attractive power to increase admissions to Durmstang's detriment, but it was reluctantly dismissed as an incorrect use of power as well as a horrible danger. It could possibly make an artifact much more powerful and inherently more dangerous than any possible piece of upright furniture; Hogwarts, with a glamour charm making it part Veela, part stonework, would be utterly impossible to disenchant, undo, or ameliorate.
**
She was being _dragged_ up the stairs to the fourth story, Hufflepuff tower. Puzzled, she realized that this effect could only be caused by a powerful object composed of the same magical ingredients carried in her arms, used for the purpose that the ingredients she carried were intended to be used for, which meant... (the attraction swerved to guide her through a random assortment of Iconic columns) ...which meant that the Mirror of Erised had finally been returned to Hogwarts.
~~~~~~~~~~
Please, please review. It'll make you feel better to confess. I sound like Nathaniel Hawthorne when I say that. Aya. (review?)
Thought is enclosed like :this: in my stories; I believe that I got the habit from ElvenRanger.
I show emphasis as _so_ because italics sometimes upset my upload.
I am looking for a beta. All a beta needs to do is point at various things in my fics and say "Uh, dear? There are no blue elephants in Scabbers's... uh, Scabbers doesn't have a litterbox... and you should really stop Charming Severus into random leather objects..." You get the idea. It would be a full-time job if I ever wrote anything.
~~~~~~~~~
:I am a complete idiot. I have no idea what I'm doing.: She took a moment out of her headlong rush to the library to snort hysterically. :Ron and Harry would find that funny, maybe. All I am is scared. Really, really scared. If I don't do this for a _reason,_ it won't work, and I have no idea why I'm trying it except that I want to _know_ ...oh god, what is happening?: The spell ingredients in her arms were moving on their own, all in the same direction. Upwards and to the left, and the staircase was shifting...
**
The professors of Hogwarts had a job ahead of them, and more than one of them was desperately worried about it. They were trying to dismantle an enormously old magical artifact and frankly, they had very little idea of how.
They knew everything ever written about it, of course; they had one of the premier Charms experts in the _world;_ they had magic expertise and pure magical _energy_ in the same amounts that the Egyptians had used to entomb Tut, but it didn't feel like enough to deal with something that if they allowed it to (and oh, they wanted to allow it to, each and every one of them, in their guts if not in their hearts) could reduce any of them to quiet, immobile incoherence.
Last Hogsmeade weekend, they had descended en masse upon the London Wizarding Archives. They had rifled the thousands upon thousands of well- packed shelves for _three days_ with the help of several time-turners and a filing system that had made the Archives the first place and the last that any researcher went when looking for obscure information. The Archives were neatly catalogued and _constantly_ updated, and if Miss Granger had known about them, she would have slavered.
Bratt & Massy's Regal Reflectors, the most famous wizarding shoppe for mirrors and any enchantment-supplied glass, had been caused to forcibly donate three wand-technicians and quite a bit of experimental silicon to the purpose. That they had been compensated monetarily for their work was immaterial; they had not had a choice in the matter.
And now the moment was at hand; the draining spells were in place, the Disenchantment Charm lying waiting to be fueled by the power of seven witches and wizards exemplary for their self-control and maturity. And almost constantly they had to nudge each other away from the compelling sights that so tugged at their bodies, minds, and selfish souls.
A strand of potent power at a time, the energy that pulled at them would be carefully unwound into the castle's reserves for the almost-certain future need. There had been some talk of using the pre-programmed attractive power to increase admissions to Durmstang's detriment, but it was reluctantly dismissed as an incorrect use of power as well as a horrible danger. It could possibly make an artifact much more powerful and inherently more dangerous than any possible piece of upright furniture; Hogwarts, with a glamour charm making it part Veela, part stonework, would be utterly impossible to disenchant, undo, or ameliorate.
**
She was being _dragged_ up the stairs to the fourth story, Hufflepuff tower. Puzzled, she realized that this effect could only be caused by a powerful object composed of the same magical ingredients carried in her arms, used for the purpose that the ingredients she carried were intended to be used for, which meant... (the attraction swerved to guide her through a random assortment of Iconic columns) ...which meant that the Mirror of Erised had finally been returned to Hogwarts.
~~~~~~~~~~
Please, please review. It'll make you feel better to confess. I sound like Nathaniel Hawthorne when I say that. Aya. (review?)