Disclaimer: I do not own Joren of Stone Mountain, I do not own Kel, I do
not own Zahir, or Vinson, or Garvey, or Quinden. Or Alanna.
Ships: It's a little early for that, don't you think? Besides, they're almost all original characters, and it wouldn't tell much of what kind of story this will be. And I'm not even sure if there will be any ships, so there.
Summary: Crossover between HP and TP. A music-obsessed girl (a bit like me, I know) who has planned her future as a musician gets a letter saying she is to attend Hogwarts. And Joren is transported to Earth when he dies. And I might decide to make Alex a wizard from Diane Duane's wizard series. I haven't decided yet. You have ideas, then review.
~*~*~*~*~
IT BEGINS
Music was her life. It had possessed her in the fourth grade, and while her friends' post-high school plans and favorite activities changed bi-monthly, hers did not. Her first and foremost dream and goal was to go into music, be it teaching, performing, or composing. Had she devoted a bit more energy to her classical studies and a shade less to her fiddling, she would be in America, attending Curtis Institute of Music. But she was not.
It had upset her, when it came. She knew what she wanted, knew what she would be. It defied that, defied everything her life stood for. Her parents, her neighbors, her friends (those she could tell), had all been proud. She had been angry; still was angry. She did not want to learn magic.
She convinced her parents not to send her to Hogwarts, just before another letter was delivered, the same as the first. This time her parents won.
"You'll take your violin with you," her mother said firmly, "and you can still compose music."
"But." she squealed, ".my cello. my piano."
"Yes, well, we will consider sending your cello. I assume you will be taking your banjo?" her father asked mildly.
She glared at him. "Of course."
Stephen, her next-door neighbor, best friend, and the greatest student pianist she knew, loved the idea of Hogwarts. His brother, now twenty-six, he said, had attended Hogwarts. He'd hoped he would, too, but he hadn't been born a wizard. Both his grandparents on his father's side had been, but neither of his parents possessed any magic.
"You'll encounter some trouble if you're Muggle-born," he told her after explaining what a "Muggle" was. "My brother did, even though our grandparents were wizards."
"I don't know of any wizard relatives," she told him.
"It doesn't matter," he replied. "Just don't let anything anyone says bother you."
"Right," she replied dryly. Not that I would care, since I don't want to be there in the first place. "Come on. I only have a few more days here, and I wanted you to tell me what you think of my new work-in- progress."
He sat at the piano obediently. After absently playing a few measures, he stood up and motioned at the bench. "You play it."
"Sure." She sat down and began; within moments she had lost herself to the music.
Stephen watched, astonished. The piece was by far her best; she had never written anything so beautiful as this. Glancing at the next page, he drew in his breath sharply. This was hard. There was no way she should be able to play this, not this quickly, not this well.
She cut off abruptly, and he realized tha she had finished the written portion of the piece.
"You do have magic," he told her, and was mildly amused to see her eyebrows snap together. "There is no way on earth you should be able to play something that technically difficult this quickly. Or musically difficult, for that matter."
She recovered quickly. "Ah, but I wasn't on earth," she joked. "I was in heaven." Then, serious again, she asked, "What about the piece?"
"It's out of my league," he told her honestly. "Keep composing."
She looked down. "I will," she whispered.
He reached out and hugged her. "Remember to write me. By owl, preferably. We get so few these days."
"I will," she said again as she hugged him back.
A week later was her eleventh birthday. She greeted Stephen with the warning, "Not a word to the others, okay? They'll think I'm fucking delusional."
He looked at her sharply. He had never heard her swear before, in the decade that he'd known her. "Do they know you're leaving?"
"They've been told that I'm going to a different school. They assume it's for music."
"As they should-you're good enough, heaven knows. Have you bought your supplies yet?"
"No. We're going tomorrow."
"May I join you?"
"Sure."
"Thanks. I've never been to Diagon Alley before."
"I figured as much". Reaching for a bunch of papers, she said, "I finished the piece." She handed the papers to him. It was the piece, twelve pages in all.
" 'Broken Dreams'?" he asked, realizing for the first time the extent to which she hated the latest turn of her life.
"Or 'Shattered Future'," she replied, shrugging. "It doesn't matter, really."
"How about 'Legendary Farewell'?" he suggested.
She thought about it, then nodded. "Change it when you get home."
He looked back down and gaped. "Why?" he asked in a strangled voice.
"Because you've been so helpful, so supportive. And because you've done it in a kinder manner than my parents. And you've been the greatest friend ever. I wouldn't be complete without you."
He looked down. "Thank you," he said in a small voice.
"I should be thanking you, not the other way around." She hugged him.
"I am honored to have such a wonderful piece dedicated to me," he replied, hugging her back. When the doorbell rang, he met her gaze levelly. "I'll get it," he said. He admitted Raisa and Lilith.
"Oh, Aideen, I'm so happy for you!" Lilith screamed as she hugged her fiercely. "You'll write me, won't you-and don't worry about using British post. My family can handle it."
"Lilith, what in heaven are you talking about?" Stephen demanded.
"She's got-" She glanced over at Raisa, who was heading towards the bathroom. "-magic, hasn't she? She is attending Hogwarts, isn't she?"
"Why do you think that?" asked Aideen.
"Well, dear, your ability with music-it's uncanny. And Aiko-Asha, sorry; she's not Aiko anymore-went to Hogwarts. Moira's older sister? Remember her?"
"Of course," Stephen replied. "Asha was my brother's girlfriend when they were fourth-years, and also three years ago. I know Asha pretty well."
"Just as you know Moira well," Aideen said.
He nodded. "Wizard families with Muggle relatives tend to be fairly close-knit. Your family will soon be adopted into the collective."
She grimaced. As the bathroom door opened, Lilith murmured, "Not a word to Raisa; she doesn't know anything about magic."
"And you do? How is this?"
Lilith shrugged. "As I said. I knew Moira, and if you practically lived at your friend's home, you'd pick up a lot of interesting information, too."
The doorbell rang again and Raisa opened it to reveal Moira, Asha, and Stephen's brother, Marrs.
"I just wanted to say congrats," Marrs said, and waved. "Happy birthday, Aideen."
"Thanks," she replied, and he smiled and walked away.
"And I'm just here to drop Moira off," Asha said. "Happy birthday."
"Thanks," she replied again as Asha departed and Moira entered.
"So, tell me," Moira commented. "Where are you attending school?"
~*~*~*~*~
A crappy beginning, this is. Oh well. I don't care. It sets up what I want set up. That being said,.
.REVIEW.
Ships: It's a little early for that, don't you think? Besides, they're almost all original characters, and it wouldn't tell much of what kind of story this will be. And I'm not even sure if there will be any ships, so there.
Summary: Crossover between HP and TP. A music-obsessed girl (a bit like me, I know) who has planned her future as a musician gets a letter saying she is to attend Hogwarts. And Joren is transported to Earth when he dies. And I might decide to make Alex a wizard from Diane Duane's wizard series. I haven't decided yet. You have ideas, then review.
~*~*~*~*~
IT BEGINS
Music was her life. It had possessed her in the fourth grade, and while her friends' post-high school plans and favorite activities changed bi-monthly, hers did not. Her first and foremost dream and goal was to go into music, be it teaching, performing, or composing. Had she devoted a bit more energy to her classical studies and a shade less to her fiddling, she would be in America, attending Curtis Institute of Music. But she was not.
It had upset her, when it came. She knew what she wanted, knew what she would be. It defied that, defied everything her life stood for. Her parents, her neighbors, her friends (those she could tell), had all been proud. She had been angry; still was angry. She did not want to learn magic.
She convinced her parents not to send her to Hogwarts, just before another letter was delivered, the same as the first. This time her parents won.
"You'll take your violin with you," her mother said firmly, "and you can still compose music."
"But." she squealed, ".my cello. my piano."
"Yes, well, we will consider sending your cello. I assume you will be taking your banjo?" her father asked mildly.
She glared at him. "Of course."
Stephen, her next-door neighbor, best friend, and the greatest student pianist she knew, loved the idea of Hogwarts. His brother, now twenty-six, he said, had attended Hogwarts. He'd hoped he would, too, but he hadn't been born a wizard. Both his grandparents on his father's side had been, but neither of his parents possessed any magic.
"You'll encounter some trouble if you're Muggle-born," he told her after explaining what a "Muggle" was. "My brother did, even though our grandparents were wizards."
"I don't know of any wizard relatives," she told him.
"It doesn't matter," he replied. "Just don't let anything anyone says bother you."
"Right," she replied dryly. Not that I would care, since I don't want to be there in the first place. "Come on. I only have a few more days here, and I wanted you to tell me what you think of my new work-in- progress."
He sat at the piano obediently. After absently playing a few measures, he stood up and motioned at the bench. "You play it."
"Sure." She sat down and began; within moments she had lost herself to the music.
Stephen watched, astonished. The piece was by far her best; she had never written anything so beautiful as this. Glancing at the next page, he drew in his breath sharply. This was hard. There was no way she should be able to play this, not this quickly, not this well.
She cut off abruptly, and he realized tha she had finished the written portion of the piece.
"You do have magic," he told her, and was mildly amused to see her eyebrows snap together. "There is no way on earth you should be able to play something that technically difficult this quickly. Or musically difficult, for that matter."
She recovered quickly. "Ah, but I wasn't on earth," she joked. "I was in heaven." Then, serious again, she asked, "What about the piece?"
"It's out of my league," he told her honestly. "Keep composing."
She looked down. "I will," she whispered.
He reached out and hugged her. "Remember to write me. By owl, preferably. We get so few these days."
"I will," she said again as she hugged him back.
A week later was her eleventh birthday. She greeted Stephen with the warning, "Not a word to the others, okay? They'll think I'm fucking delusional."
He looked at her sharply. He had never heard her swear before, in the decade that he'd known her. "Do they know you're leaving?"
"They've been told that I'm going to a different school. They assume it's for music."
"As they should-you're good enough, heaven knows. Have you bought your supplies yet?"
"No. We're going tomorrow."
"May I join you?"
"Sure."
"Thanks. I've never been to Diagon Alley before."
"I figured as much". Reaching for a bunch of papers, she said, "I finished the piece." She handed the papers to him. It was the piece, twelve pages in all.
" 'Broken Dreams'?" he asked, realizing for the first time the extent to which she hated the latest turn of her life.
"Or 'Shattered Future'," she replied, shrugging. "It doesn't matter, really."
"How about 'Legendary Farewell'?" he suggested.
She thought about it, then nodded. "Change it when you get home."
He looked back down and gaped. "Why?" he asked in a strangled voice.
"Because you've been so helpful, so supportive. And because you've done it in a kinder manner than my parents. And you've been the greatest friend ever. I wouldn't be complete without you."
He looked down. "Thank you," he said in a small voice.
"I should be thanking you, not the other way around." She hugged him.
"I am honored to have such a wonderful piece dedicated to me," he replied, hugging her back. When the doorbell rang, he met her gaze levelly. "I'll get it," he said. He admitted Raisa and Lilith.
"Oh, Aideen, I'm so happy for you!" Lilith screamed as she hugged her fiercely. "You'll write me, won't you-and don't worry about using British post. My family can handle it."
"Lilith, what in heaven are you talking about?" Stephen demanded.
"She's got-" She glanced over at Raisa, who was heading towards the bathroom. "-magic, hasn't she? She is attending Hogwarts, isn't she?"
"Why do you think that?" asked Aideen.
"Well, dear, your ability with music-it's uncanny. And Aiko-Asha, sorry; she's not Aiko anymore-went to Hogwarts. Moira's older sister? Remember her?"
"Of course," Stephen replied. "Asha was my brother's girlfriend when they were fourth-years, and also three years ago. I know Asha pretty well."
"Just as you know Moira well," Aideen said.
He nodded. "Wizard families with Muggle relatives tend to be fairly close-knit. Your family will soon be adopted into the collective."
She grimaced. As the bathroom door opened, Lilith murmured, "Not a word to Raisa; she doesn't know anything about magic."
"And you do? How is this?"
Lilith shrugged. "As I said. I knew Moira, and if you practically lived at your friend's home, you'd pick up a lot of interesting information, too."
The doorbell rang again and Raisa opened it to reveal Moira, Asha, and Stephen's brother, Marrs.
"I just wanted to say congrats," Marrs said, and waved. "Happy birthday, Aideen."
"Thanks," she replied, and he smiled and walked away.
"And I'm just here to drop Moira off," Asha said. "Happy birthday."
"Thanks," she replied again as Asha departed and Moira entered.
"So, tell me," Moira commented. "Where are you attending school?"
~*~*~*~*~
A crappy beginning, this is. Oh well. I don't care. It sets up what I want set up. That being said,.
.REVIEW.