The Encounter or As Yet Untitled
Lemondrop
Harry had found it rather disturbing when he'd heard that Percy and Penelope's wedding
would be held in a Muggle church instead of the Burrow and now he found it disturbing that
LEVA had established its headquarters in an abandoned Muggle castle. The castle, which even in
its hayday hadn't been much to celebrate, was now so ramshackle that the stability of the roof
was as major a concern as any Death Eater attack and so far from anything magical that it would
take six Apparation jumps to contact anyone if an attack did come. It troubled him as he
navigated the dimly-lit hallways, following the kneazle that had met him at the gates and
answered the question "Where is Headmaster Dumbledore?" with an eerily human nod.
The kneazle led him into a brightly-lit room that must have been the Great Hall at some
point. Currently, it was filled with whirring machinery of both the magical and Muggle varieties.
There were around thirty witches and wizards in black and white robes watching the machinery.
None of them noticed Harry as he entered the room.
Harry was moving around the periphery of the room, looking for Dumbledore, when he
was startled by a light, feminine voice from behind him. "Oh, my, may I touch it, Harry?"
"Excuse me?" He whirled to face the speaker and saw only a wispy woman standing in
an entrance he hadn't noticed. She was tall and unbelievably thin; she was one of those girls
who had, at some point in her life, been the object of the joke, "If you turn sideways, I won't be
able to see you anymore." Her hair was pale orange and her eyes were the color of the bottled
honey that one finds in the grocery store in plastic, bear-shaped jars. her nose was a bit too
long and her eyes a bit too deep-set for conventional beauty, but there was a kind of quiet,
elegant beauty about her. She looked familiar.
She smirked at him. "Your scar I mean, can I touch it?" Harry thought the woman
might be mocking him and then became sure that she was as she raised a hand to sweep back
his messy bangs and lay two fingers over the lightning bolt, studying it intently.
"I beg your pardon," Harry said indignantly, and pulled away, thinking who the hell are
you?
The woman smiled again, and this time it was genuine. "Sorry, just couldn't help myself.
I'm Madeline, I work here. Professor Dumbledore said you'd come by and bring me something
that came from Mortie. Sassy was right to bring you in here," she directed an affectionate smile
at the kneazle still following Harry, "I'll take care of it if you like." As she spoke, she moved
toward a table full of gadgets, and Harry followed, irritated and slightly curious. "I suppose. I
received a...note from Voldemort." He paused a moment, then added bitterly, "An offer to join
up."
She nodded sympathetically and took the letter that he offered her. She snapped several
pictures of it with a digital camera and then began running a magical magnifying glass, currently
hissing and emitting green sparks, over both the letter and the envelope.
Harry stood and waited while Madeline examined the Dark Lord's request. After a
moment, she spoke. "Hmm, that's interesting. He signs it 'Lord Volemort.'"
Harry raised an eyebrow. "You expected maybe, Love Tom?"
"No, not at all, I mean my mother doesn't sign her letters Love Clarissa, so why should
he. It's just that 'Lord' sounds kind of pompous. There again though, I suppose if you can walk
into someone's house and murder him outright, you've got all the arrogance you need, right?"
Now Harry, besides being almost completely sure that he didn't like this woman at all,
was truly confused. "What does your mother have to do with Voldemort?"
Madeline laughed. "Oh, she feels about the same way about me that Mortie feels about
you."
"Why?" He asked before he thought better of it; she pricked his curiosity and seemed to
throw him off balance.
"Because I exist and am my father's child. I can't help either one of those, of course,
any more than my father can help having been set on a blind date with such a foul woman. I'm
her own fault, really, for not knowing any better than to go to bed with a werewolf. Can I keep
this for a while?" She said all of this very quickly, studying the letter through her explanation and
then raising her eyes abruptly to meet Harry's as she asked the final question.
After almost a minute, the most that Harry could manage was, "Sure."
A/N: This is my first fic and I think that there will be more of it soon. Please review because I can use your suggestions for a title and any advice on Harry's characterization, which seems to me to be a bit off. Constructive criticism will be welcome.
Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter, his universe, and everything in it. I get nothing but personal satisfaction from this story.
Lemondrop
Harry had found it rather disturbing when he'd heard that Percy and Penelope's wedding
would be held in a Muggle church instead of the Burrow and now he found it disturbing that
LEVA had established its headquarters in an abandoned Muggle castle. The castle, which even in
its hayday hadn't been much to celebrate, was now so ramshackle that the stability of the roof
was as major a concern as any Death Eater attack and so far from anything magical that it would
take six Apparation jumps to contact anyone if an attack did come. It troubled him as he
navigated the dimly-lit hallways, following the kneazle that had met him at the gates and
answered the question "Where is Headmaster Dumbledore?" with an eerily human nod.
The kneazle led him into a brightly-lit room that must have been the Great Hall at some
point. Currently, it was filled with whirring machinery of both the magical and Muggle varieties.
There were around thirty witches and wizards in black and white robes watching the machinery.
None of them noticed Harry as he entered the room.
Harry was moving around the periphery of the room, looking for Dumbledore, when he
was startled by a light, feminine voice from behind him. "Oh, my, may I touch it, Harry?"
"Excuse me?" He whirled to face the speaker and saw only a wispy woman standing in
an entrance he hadn't noticed. She was tall and unbelievably thin; she was one of those girls
who had, at some point in her life, been the object of the joke, "If you turn sideways, I won't be
able to see you anymore." Her hair was pale orange and her eyes were the color of the bottled
honey that one finds in the grocery store in plastic, bear-shaped jars. her nose was a bit too
long and her eyes a bit too deep-set for conventional beauty, but there was a kind of quiet,
elegant beauty about her. She looked familiar.
She smirked at him. "Your scar I mean, can I touch it?" Harry thought the woman
might be mocking him and then became sure that she was as she raised a hand to sweep back
his messy bangs and lay two fingers over the lightning bolt, studying it intently.
"I beg your pardon," Harry said indignantly, and pulled away, thinking who the hell are
you?
The woman smiled again, and this time it was genuine. "Sorry, just couldn't help myself.
I'm Madeline, I work here. Professor Dumbledore said you'd come by and bring me something
that came from Mortie. Sassy was right to bring you in here," she directed an affectionate smile
at the kneazle still following Harry, "I'll take care of it if you like." As she spoke, she moved
toward a table full of gadgets, and Harry followed, irritated and slightly curious. "I suppose. I
received a...note from Voldemort." He paused a moment, then added bitterly, "An offer to join
up."
She nodded sympathetically and took the letter that he offered her. She snapped several
pictures of it with a digital camera and then began running a magical magnifying glass, currently
hissing and emitting green sparks, over both the letter and the envelope.
Harry stood and waited while Madeline examined the Dark Lord's request. After a
moment, she spoke. "Hmm, that's interesting. He signs it 'Lord Volemort.'"
Harry raised an eyebrow. "You expected maybe, Love Tom?"
"No, not at all, I mean my mother doesn't sign her letters Love Clarissa, so why should
he. It's just that 'Lord' sounds kind of pompous. There again though, I suppose if you can walk
into someone's house and murder him outright, you've got all the arrogance you need, right?"
Now Harry, besides being almost completely sure that he didn't like this woman at all,
was truly confused. "What does your mother have to do with Voldemort?"
Madeline laughed. "Oh, she feels about the same way about me that Mortie feels about
you."
"Why?" He asked before he thought better of it; she pricked his curiosity and seemed to
throw him off balance.
"Because I exist and am my father's child. I can't help either one of those, of course,
any more than my father can help having been set on a blind date with such a foul woman. I'm
her own fault, really, for not knowing any better than to go to bed with a werewolf. Can I keep
this for a while?" She said all of this very quickly, studying the letter through her explanation and
then raising her eyes abruptly to meet Harry's as she asked the final question.
After almost a minute, the most that Harry could manage was, "Sure."
A/N: This is my first fic and I think that there will be more of it soon. Please review because I can use your suggestions for a title and any advice on Harry's characterization, which seems to me to be a bit off. Constructive criticism will be welcome.
Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter, his universe, and everything in it. I get nothing but personal satisfaction from this story.