AN: Not mine, blah blah blah. (I hate wasting time on disclaimers.) Only
Valeria and the plot and the order in which the words are placed are mine,
and if you take those, I will not only be flattered but I will also be very
pissed off. Formatting is slightly off in these, so please excuse any odd
things you might find.
MOURIR
Prologue
"Wandless"
"Incendio!" Hermione Granger pointed her pinky and fore fingers at the fireplace as she muttered the word, and flames burst into existence like a phoenix being reborn.
It was a cold, dreary day for a return to Hogwarts, and altogether too dismal to really signify the homecoming that it was. Hermione, however, barely noticed the rain pattering insistently outside her window as she searched in the piles of baggage she'd brought with her. After several minutes of fruitlessly digging through the small mountain of suitcases, rooting through tediously packed bags, yet coming up empty-handed, Hermione gave up and held up a hand. "Accio wand," she commanded imperiously.
From under the large, messy heap of trunks and books, a long, slender mahogany box obviously made for a wand slid out and levitated, landing in the centre of Hermione's palm with a satisfying smack.
Suddenly, a knock sounded on the door and, not wanting to waste time taking out her wand, the seventeen-year-old waved somewhat dismissively at it, as if she were shooing away a bug or an irritating child.
The elegant French doors swung open to reveal Professor Dumbledore.
"Miss Granger," he said with an impish smile so characteristic of the old man, a twinkle lighting in his eye. "I trust your trip was pleasant?"
His smiling face found a twin in Hermione's as she mirrored his expression without hesitation. She nodded. "Very, thank you." Motioning towards her window, where the rain still beat down like an owl begging for entrance, Hermione indicated the intensifying downpour. "I'm glad I just beat the rain. It sounds terrible."
With another pointed finger and a well placed charm or two, the various paraphernalia scattered over Hermione's floor organised itself into a few neat piles. "Come in, Headmaster, please. Would you like some tea?"
"No, thank you, Miss Granger. I just wanted to say hello." Dumbledore turned to leave, then paused. "How was Oxford, by the way?"
An eager smile crossed Hermione's face. "Oh, it was wonderful, Headmaster. The tutors were all very helpful, and working with my magic in raw form was so exciting. You were right, sir, it really does decrease the energy needed, since you don't have to channel the magic through a wand. Right now, I think the wand is still much better, much more natural for me, but it's progressing quite nicely. Thank you for your recommendation." Hermione's gaze now turned somewhat scrutinising as she absently studied Dumbledore's face. "Do you practice it?"
He smiled. "To use a Muggle expression, I'm afraid it's no use teaching an old dog like me new tricks. But if you would like to continue your studies, I will ask the staff if there is anyone sufficiently well-versed in the art."
"Oh, would you, Headmaster? I would be so grateful."
Dumbledore, naturally, already knew that there was but one member on the staff versed at all in wandless magic, but was not at all certain that either Hermione or Professor Snape could handle that particular situation. "Of course, my dear," he said, choosing to abstain from voicing those thoughts.
MOURIR
Prologue
"Wandless"
"Incendio!" Hermione Granger pointed her pinky and fore fingers at the fireplace as she muttered the word, and flames burst into existence like a phoenix being reborn.
It was a cold, dreary day for a return to Hogwarts, and altogether too dismal to really signify the homecoming that it was. Hermione, however, barely noticed the rain pattering insistently outside her window as she searched in the piles of baggage she'd brought with her. After several minutes of fruitlessly digging through the small mountain of suitcases, rooting through tediously packed bags, yet coming up empty-handed, Hermione gave up and held up a hand. "Accio wand," she commanded imperiously.
From under the large, messy heap of trunks and books, a long, slender mahogany box obviously made for a wand slid out and levitated, landing in the centre of Hermione's palm with a satisfying smack.
Suddenly, a knock sounded on the door and, not wanting to waste time taking out her wand, the seventeen-year-old waved somewhat dismissively at it, as if she were shooing away a bug or an irritating child.
The elegant French doors swung open to reveal Professor Dumbledore.
"Miss Granger," he said with an impish smile so characteristic of the old man, a twinkle lighting in his eye. "I trust your trip was pleasant?"
His smiling face found a twin in Hermione's as she mirrored his expression without hesitation. She nodded. "Very, thank you." Motioning towards her window, where the rain still beat down like an owl begging for entrance, Hermione indicated the intensifying downpour. "I'm glad I just beat the rain. It sounds terrible."
With another pointed finger and a well placed charm or two, the various paraphernalia scattered over Hermione's floor organised itself into a few neat piles. "Come in, Headmaster, please. Would you like some tea?"
"No, thank you, Miss Granger. I just wanted to say hello." Dumbledore turned to leave, then paused. "How was Oxford, by the way?"
An eager smile crossed Hermione's face. "Oh, it was wonderful, Headmaster. The tutors were all very helpful, and working with my magic in raw form was so exciting. You were right, sir, it really does decrease the energy needed, since you don't have to channel the magic through a wand. Right now, I think the wand is still much better, much more natural for me, but it's progressing quite nicely. Thank you for your recommendation." Hermione's gaze now turned somewhat scrutinising as she absently studied Dumbledore's face. "Do you practice it?"
He smiled. "To use a Muggle expression, I'm afraid it's no use teaching an old dog like me new tricks. But if you would like to continue your studies, I will ask the staff if there is anyone sufficiently well-versed in the art."
"Oh, would you, Headmaster? I would be so grateful."
Dumbledore, naturally, already knew that there was but one member on the staff versed at all in wandless magic, but was not at all certain that either Hermione or Professor Snape could handle that particular situation. "Of course, my dear," he said, choosing to abstain from voicing those thoughts.