Disclaimers; I don't own Sailor Moon, she - And the rest of the Senshi - belong to Naoko Takeuchi *All bow* Harry Potter and any of the characters therein also aren't mine. *Sniff* I don't own them and never will. *Sniff* That honour belongs to the great, the all powerful and all knowing *All bow* J.K. Rowling.

*twaps those who aren't' bowing*

*Growls* I don't want to hear any words about how certain words are spelled incorrectly... I'm in the UKish... Ireland - to be precise, so I go by (UK) English, not US...




NOTE:
Slightly longer than I anticipated... this chapter is.... I got carried away and was actually going to split it into two... Instead I cut the conversation out between Luna and Snape after the classroom scene. It'll go in next chapter though, with more relevance to Harry and Snape's mutual animosity. ^__^;;;

So, plough away....

Orin.





THE SENSHI WHO LIVED.


Then I saw the armies march
Saw him raise his power high
He preached, "Obey", he practised Rule
and fattened on the ancient lie
His weadling words, his mystic might
His ultimately iron hand
His promise - Hell - I know them well -
Finally I understand

-- Leslie Fish.
'The Challenger'



Chapter 3


Amissus in Hogwarts









How long she lay there, she did not know; safe in her lassitude, enfolded tightly in that pleasant warmth that was between sleeping and waking. Drifting, not dreaming, all fears and terrors, all memories absent for that endless moment.
Nothing left but ghosts of what seemed long ago.
She was walking in snow, in the moonlight, watching creeping stars, the bloodstained moon. Calling excitedly as a meteor carved the dark sky. The cry of a winter wolf soared on the wind.

And Usagi felt safe; utterly protected, held.

Dumbledore...

That name was unfamiliar, just as the room was unfamiliar; the fire crackling, the gentle hand against her forehead, all strange. But she did not care. The wind sobbed outside and she let it. She snuggled against the warmth of the pillow, eyes closed, surrounded by the rumble of a soft voice, living the tales he told her quietly, pictures so clear they might have been painted in the insides of her eyelids.

He spoke of great pillars of stone stretching into the sky. Tales of Briton's old flickered through her mind tugged gently along by the insistent voice of her storyteller. Of Merlin and Author, of kingdoms fallen and far off lands. Of a fair-haired girl walking on a moonlit lake. The shimmering iridescence bouncing off pale strands beneath a star filled sky. Was it her or another of his night-time stories? Usagi sighed an inward sigh.

Then the pain in her head came back. A terrible ripping pain, steel barbs being drawn through her forehead. Pain that was the echo of earlier pain, she knew.

Oblivion.

At last a faint creaking penetrated her consciousness. She did not stir; could not even will it. The silence resumed it timeless beat. She dreamed again. Or relived.

Or lived...

A creak, a squeak - it was there again... Wood on wood, she realised. It surprised Usagi, that she had suddenly passed from dream to thought, was able to think, had an identity.

A creak and a squeak - again.

A little thread of curiosity tugged at her and she woke herself at last. The sapphire luminescence opened, cautiously, she did not want to betray herself, though she could not have told why.

The room was large, warm and semi-dark. The wall beside her bed was stone, the smooth blocks shining softly in the half light. The part of the room she could see was empty. No; beyond the foot of her bed across the room, a fire burned softly in a grate. The fire was not the golden hues she was accustomed to, instead it was an icy blue. But somehow Usagi did not find that strange. She could feel it's warmth. And it assured her.

On one side to the fire was a table, low, with books on it, on the other side, sat an old man with a long flowing silver beard - soft blue in the firelight. He had his feet on the wall and rocked back and forth, the chair creaking. He was dressed in what seemed to be robes of some kind, with short boots. His hair was long for an old man; silver too, and he wore a pair of half-moon spectacles.

Creak and squeak. The old man stirred in his chair. He looked to be studying a parchment of some kind, as ancient as him even. Usagi closed her eyes and lay still. The chair scraped along the floor. The old man hummed. She opened an eye cautiously to find his face turned towards her, his eyes twinkling behind the glass, meeting her own.

Usagi closed her eyes again. A single droplet of memory came back - running. She had been running. Moving a leg under the covers, she touched one foot then the other. They should be sore, she knew somehow. She had ran so much and fought....

They should have been tender from the constant fleeing.

Usagi. That was her name. Usagi Tsukino. That was her.

Then came a gush of remembrance - a Senshi bursting in: Luna rushing out: preparing to fight. Another trickle: Artemis, a human: desolation, despairing, standing before her... and Luna.

Then nothing, absolutely nothing.

She did not know how she came to be where she was. She did not recognise the old man sitting calmly across the room. Her head ached desperately. The crystal was gone...

No... She still had it.

If it was gone, then all those who had died because if it - of her - had suffered for nothing.

Perhaps it was not even her responsibility anymore.

She wanted to go home. Usagi sighed. The memory of her family's home - her home - appeared, the carefully painted house, glowing in the afternoon sun, the bright fence out the front...

She wanted to go home....

A mist began to rise inside her head again and the image faded as she abandoned herself to the darkness.

Home was gone.

She was alone; and home was no more.




** ** **







The youth's gestures were wild in his anger, his eyes burning bright in righteous indignation, and the flaming red hair seemed only to enhance his fiery temperament.

"I can't believe Snape took those points! It was on purpose, everyone could see. I just-"

"I think that was the idea, Ron."

He blinked.

"Eh?"

Hermione Granger gave a little sigh. Though accustomed to dealing with her friend's fervent disposition, Ron's rants underwent a certain transformation whenever he expressed his feelings on a certain Portions Master and his favourite pupil.
Fury, bitterness, old pain and deep hurts came to the fore.
Wounds caused by cold words that none could see, but that Hermione knew were there nonetheless. His railing would become intense, born from a single-mindedness of natural ire. Focused, boiling and freezing all at once. Ron felt strongly about certain people, he told Hermione so often.

As accustomed as she was to these emotions, there were times when they could wear thin on her patience. However, there were also occasions when Hermione found herself on accord with his opinion. Their previous potions session being one of these times she agreed with him wholeheartedly.

Professor Severus Snape had been in a foul mood.

This in and of itself was no new event for his class, it was one of a long line of much ill humour. The main difference being that, as of late, Snape's personality had taken a turn for the worse. His glares seemed more pointed, sharpened to a piercing edge. He had a presence about him, something he had always possessed and there had invariably been a certain essence to his constitution. Be it the vicious insults only he had the ability to conjure, or the biting gaze that could sweep across, and silence, a class without words. But over the previous month, his glares had evolved to a plane so sharp, that his whole nature was like a looming black cloud, oppressive and forbidding.

Even for him.

Their preceding class had been no exception. He had entered in a foul mood - a fact that was made apparent within the first thirty seconds of class; whereupon he had announced a unscheduled test.
His demeanour had not improved when later, Neville Longbottom had botched up - what Snape considered - a simple memorandum draught. Of course, there was always the fact that Neville was a Gryffindor, which was a crime punishable regardless.

If possible, it had gone downhill from there, climaxing when 'personage unknown' had switched Harry's newts tails for something entirely not - tails. An easy exchange to miss, but one that resulted in disaster. And the explosion of Harry's potion in progress.

It had been the smooth smirk, filled with awareness; slate eyes of infinite satisfaction, that had alerted Ron as to just who was the exchanger had been.
He had rounded on and almost throttled Draco Malfoy, shouting his accusations, while Draco had only smirked wider. As usual, in potions class, autocracy was a ritual, with Snape as it's authority. Ron's outburst had only resulted in an elevated reduction of points from Gryffindor and Draco lifting a scathing eyebrow in reproach.

Point for him.

Customarily, detention had followed; for Harry. This was also nothing new - for potions at least. He would remain behind, cleaning the confusion that Draco had helped cause, after which he had been instructed to write a lengthy composition on how " Admiration Is No Substitute For Application' - Mr. Potter."

Subtitled; The Follies of Fame.

It was to be a protracted thesis on how applying oneself, and attentiveness in class, was far more beneficial in the long run to 'living in the limelight' - as the Professor put it.

Perhaps Harry would have noticed the switch, perhaps he should have taken more care and been more vigilant with his potion. Then he would have noted that something was amiss. However, he had been acting unusually preoccupied as of late - for about a month.
Ron had argued with Hermione that it was because Harry was having strange dreams again. Hermione was of a different opinion. If so, then why would Harry choose to remain silent about the dreams? It did not make sense for their friend to keep something from them.

"Ron, if you hadn't opened you mouth, then it wouldn't have gotten to where it was."

Ron merely looked further put out that Hermione was not concurring once more. He shifted his books in annoyance.

"But it wasn't fair Hermione!" he argued, "It's always the same too. Ever since our first year! I don't know how Dumbledore lets him get away with it...."

The Gryffindor girl looked indignant, shooting him a disapproving look.

"Now , really Ron. You shouldn't bring Professor Dum- Oh! Look out!"

Reaching across the distance between them, Hermione grabbed Ron's arm and pulled back, tugging the startled youth with her. This caused him to emit an undignified sound, suspiciously like a squeak, and hurl a glare of his own in her direction. Ignoring it, she pointed, looking justified.

"It's bad look to step on a black cat."

Ron shot her another look before eyeing the solitary black cat trotting down the hallway.
In a flicker of black, it disappeared around the corner without a backward glance.
Still looking slightly miffed, he contradicted, "Black cats are good luck," then added somewhat vengefully, "And Harry's still going to be wicked late for Quidditch practise; thanks to Snape..."







** ** **








Luna slowed to a less suspicious looking walk even as she chastised herself, letting out a sigh of relief. Getting trod on had not been high on her priority list, and she threw the watchful girl a note of gratitude.
She had been inattentive; a poor trait in a protector at any time; an unforgivable trait in any feline. Luna should have been paying more attention to her surroundings. She had not been, her mind was tainted by endless fragments of memory. Worry wove through her thoughts in a tormenting tangle that trapped her in trepidation. It intruded in her duties, it wore her down, mentally and emotionally.

Which was how she had ended up lost.

Snape.

She had heard the name mentioned - with some malice - as she dived around the corner. The boy had been complaining about a Harry and something called 'Quidditch' and then Snape...

Snape was a professor. This implied to Luna that the boy, Harry, had got into trouble; suggesting detention; insinuating that they were coming from a class of Snape's.
That was good. Though Luna felt no anticipation in talking to Snape, the Professor could tell her where she was to go. Or where she was.

Hogwarts' grounds and interior was immense, she had discovered. Looking for all the world like a fortress from the outside, it truly did no justice until you could be in its centre. The sheer amount of rooms, corridors, towers, vaults and passages and turrets was staggering. Moving staircases, living portraits, and statues that seemed to watch every movement. It was a veritable maze awash with swarms of students and faculty members, and very overwhealming.

Unfortunately, Luna enjoyed a cats curiosity for exploring, it had not taken long before she had found herself in unrecognizable surroundings, and it had degenerated from there. Somehow she had ended up somewhere in the basement of the castle.

All in all, a gloomy affair in comparison to the rest of the grounds.

She idly admitted it suited Snape well.

The hallway was clear of students, apparently they were quick to vacate that particular area of the school. Luna was glad, she did not enjoy feeling the speculative eyes of curious children follow her form as she passed. They always took note of the strange insignia on her forehead. It irritated her.
The hall was dark, the thick walls would not allow for windows, and Luna surmised they were underground anyway. The air was warm, but the atmosphere created by flickering lights was unmistakably chilly.

Yes. It suited Snape well.

There were doors littering the sides of the hall, branching off to different recesses of the building. They were all closed - bar one.

She approached the opening at the walkway's end, slowing and stepping soundlessly. Peering around the door frame she gave the room a quick glance. It was empty of all save two people - one she knew.

Snape was flitting through paper on his desk. His face was closed, predictably, but the familiar scowl she always saw him wear was absent. The dark strands of hair fell loose around his face as he leaned over his papers, outlining it and making it appear less austere.
From where she stood, watching him, Luna could have perceived him as elegant. Long slender hands that worked the quill seamlessly, posture straight, correct, a light studious frown flickering across sharp features.
A picture of pure savoir faire. Of refinement - had she not already known his disposition.

The other in the room was a boy - or rather a teenager - with unruly black hair and somewhat large round rimmed glasses, framing an attractive face. Not overly handsome, but it was an honest face that held an air of vulnerability to it, and for Luna, that held a lot of charm - more so that Snape.
The boy was scribbling furiously, throwing occasional mutinous looks in Snape's direction.

Luna had to stop herself from smiling; not a Snape fan, evidently.

"Keep it up Potter, and I'll add another ten inches onto that paper."

She could see the youth grit his teeth at that, but to his credit, his focused his gaze on the paper and did not remark - concentrating on writing instead.

Luna felt a surge of sympathy for him then, for all of Snape's students.

And after a moment, she felt a surge of something else in addition. It was ridiculous for her to consider. It was immature, and extremely childish and showed a lack of adult judgement on her part. It was an idea. It was irresistible.

Perhaps she could call it an indulgence for past mistakes. For the times she had pressed her charge into studying long hours into the night, when the girl wanted nothing more than to read those ludicrous Manga comics she loved.

To laugh at them...

She should have let Usagi laugh while the girl had still wanted to....

Sidling inside unseen came easy to her, as she ducked beneath the rows of desks, creeping down towards the centre isle. She dipped low to evade the long legs of the boy before turning and rubbing against them lightly. The boy jumped a little at the contact, stiffening, and Luna cast an eye towards Snape, but he had not noticed.

She coiled around his leg again, beginning to purr softly. She recognised that a purr was a sound that reassured some humans. She hoped it would him.
It did.
She felt his form relax and watched a hand move towards her. Smiling inwardly, Luna arched into it, purring louder. She looked up. The youth was leaning back on his chair still scribbling idly with one hand, stroking with the other and peering down at her in delight. He was grinning slightly.
Getting the opportunity of a closer inspection showed Luna that he had bright emerald eyes behind the glass frames. Eyes that shone with charm restrained, tragedy witnessed and anguish known. Luna was mesmerised for an instant at their depth and their perception.

It solidified her resolve all the more.

Rubbing her face against his hand one last time she abandoned him for her next target; Snape.
She caught the youth's - Harry Potter - perplexed look from the corner of her eyes, but ignored it.

The boy needed a break from Snape's constant acerbity, his piercing hard gaze. And she was still lost and seeking directions.

Breaking into a soundless lope she crossed the distance between the boy's desk and Snape in a quicksilver flask of starless night. She was further surprised when Snape did not notice.
Luna shook her head and abandoning all pretence of stealth she slowed, bunched up, then gave a vigorous leap undeviatingly onto Snape's desk. Somehow she managed to land directly amid the arranged papers, and scattering them efficiently, spilling a bottle of ink to the side. It had the desired result.

Snape shot to his feet, tumbling out of his reverie, glaring and spluttering.

"You!"

Luna merely regarded him for a moment, idly hoping that he didn't expect her to actually talk to him with a student in the room.

"Cat!"

Her head tilted and she rolled her eyes, though only Snape could see. The man had a talent for stating the obvious.

"Mreow...?" she said. She was well aware she looked as though she was mocking, she hoped it would have the desired result.

Snape narrowed his eyes dangerously.

There was a faint chuckle from the back of the room.

At least Harry Potter found it amusing.

Snape seemed to realize that he could not castigate Luna in front of a student - not without losing all credibility at least. He was not one to be jeered at. Whether student or Guardian of an ancient line of royalty, mockery of his person was a thing she knew Severus Snape would not abide by.
He stiffened, his jaw hardening and eyes looking shuttered and dangerous.
In a lightening fast movement he lunged forward and plucked her from her seat among the spilled ink and scattered papers - before she could dodge. She had not thought the potions master so quick or she would not have found herself suffering the indignity of hanging by the scruff of her neck.
It did not hurt, Snape was lucky in that. Though Luna wondered that the fact was intentional at all.

She wriggled a little, just to let him know that she was not at all happy with the situation, as he pushed his way out of the room, his eyes as black as his mood.

Still hanging from his grasp as he stalked down the hallway allowed her to catch a parting view of the youth, who had come to the door of the classroom to see her off.
There was a sympathetic look to his eyes, but that did not stop his shoulders shaking in silent laughter, or the exhilarated smile that lit up his face. He gave her a final wave, and she found herself wishing she had hands with which to return it.

Luna decided there and then that Harry Potter was someone she liked a great deal.





** ** **






Harry was still grinning lightly as he shouldered his bag, leaving the drab potions room far behind. He gave his head a slight shake, even as he wondered again at the little black cat who had come to his rescue. Small and sleek and affectionate; to him at least. Snape apparently had been less than thrilled to see her.

Harry had to make a conscious effort to subdue the reforming grin he felt curving his lips. It would not do for anyone to see him roaming the corridors grinning like an idiot. There was a soft chuckle from him as he ducked his head at the curious looks his mirth was drawing. Passing pupils were obviously wondering why The Boy Who Lived was so happy. And Harry would let them wonder. It was no business of theirs. Though he would be sure to let a few of the Griffindors know why.

The look of sheer horror on Snape's face had been priceless- too priceless not to share.

He could not help feel sorry for the poor cat though. Snape was not one to forgive easily. But Harry knew there was nothing the potions master could do to the familiar of a student. Crookshanks certainly got into sufficient trouble in the past. Harry would bet that as furious as Snape might be, there would be no way he could punish the little black cat, without her owner knowing.

Though the more he thought about it, the more he realised what a strange occurrence the encounter had been all in all. He did not remember ever seeing the feline prowl the grounds as far as he could recall. And she was not something he was likely to forget, especially if she was so sociable all the time. There were not many black cats in Hogwarts - surprising, but true. And he knew with unfailing certainty that there were none with a crescent moon on their forehead.

Perhaps she belonged to a first year.

But all animals belonging to first years were to be kept in the dormitories or somewhere therein, unless they were owls, in which case they would go to the owlery.

Harry felt himself frown.

Then maybe the little cat belonged to a teacher.

That was more likely he decided.

There had been an unmistakable intelligence to her eyes as she had turned from him to Snape, so that Harry had been reminded of Sirius for a moment. So much so, it had startled him. And the perfect timing with which she had delivered that meow was too exquisite to be a mere coincidence. But then Crookshanks was far more than an average cat as well...

But could she be an Animagi...?

He did not know. To him, she looked to posses enough intelligence, but-

"I'm surprised to see you wandering about so soon Potter... Sneak off did you?"

The voice was tinged with contempt, like a slow consuming poison which had surpassed and roped out of control throughout the years. The icy derision could be sharper than any blade, had Harry not become almost immune to it's bite over time.
Almost.
But one did not simply ignore Draco Malfoy. Even Harry Potter was not up to the daunting task.

His eyes hardened, the restless curiosity within them dissolving and coalescing into solid
stones of emerald, and just as hard. They fixed on the youth blocking his path who was, for once, unaccompanied by Crabbe and Goyle. Or 'Tweedledum and Tweedledee' - as Harry privately called them.

"I don't 'sneak' Malfoy. I leave that up to 'Ferrets' and such..."

Harry lived to remind Draco of the incident when he had been transfigured into a snow-white ferret by Professor Moody some years back. It was one of the golden moments in Harry's life.

"Which would explain why you're drifting the halls before your detention is up," Draco said softly, although resentment lent his voice a cutting edge. His eyes glinted grey with hatred and bitterness sliced with raw pain.
The event was something he made every effort to ignore, just as Harry made every effort to remind him of.

To Draco's apparent surprise, Harry's face eased into a smile; a simple, victorious smile.

"Oh, take notes did you? Didn't realise you hung onto my every word like that."

Draco looked mildly repulsed at the idea and he sneered, "Don't flatter yourself, Potter. I have better things to do."

The unruly head tilted back, soft lighting catching the ebony strands. There was defiance in the gesture but a certain challenge too. The green eyes did not waver behind the polished glass.

"Which would explain why you're talking to me then."

Harry grinned a little as the disgust increased to open revulsion. Draco pulled back, his lips curling in loathing. He looked faintly nauseous at the thought.

"Don't hold yourself in such high esteem," he snapped, "I certainly don't- Oy!"

He whirled around looking indignant as Harry pushed past him, suddenly intent on the flash of black fur he caught from the corner of his eyes. The Slytherin disappearing, his feet eating up the distance, and Draco's scorn falling onto deaf ears as he darted after the familiar black cat.

Harry was small in stature, despite the hours of time spend on the Quidditch pitch. He had always retained the gangly state and he seemed fated to remain all leg. But Harry was fast. He could fly like a wind on a wintry English day on a broomstick. When on solid ground he could run. He had also acquired a talent for running and remaining almost silent as he did so. It probably had a lot to do with the many night excursions he had embarked upon in the years past.

He rounded another corner, idly wondering where he was. There were places in Hogwarts that ever he was unaware of still. Green eyes darted around as he moved, keeping a lookout, another acquired skill. Harry was not naturally paranoid, but he had learned it paid to be careful. And cautious. Mrs Norris and caretaker Argus Filch still stalked the grounds by day.

He would not need too much persuasion to report Harry for loitering in the corridors.

Harry darted a cautious look up another abandoned hallway to discover it empty. The little black cat was nowhere to be seen. Heart hammering and suddenly bereft to lose her, Harry bounded along the flagstone, abandoning caution, rounded the corner faster than he should have, and stumbled rather ungainly into someone taller than himself

"Ah, Harry... Is something the matter?"

He recognised the voice immediately, straightening and pulling his robes to a semblance of order. He was panting slightly, he realised. Suspicious to say the least.

"Er, no Professor... I'm... Just..."

"Going to Quidditch practise are we?" Dumbledore looked amused then, "Must be important now that you're captain of the Gryffindor team. Lots of strategies to conjure up, I'd imagine."

Harry blinked up the old wizard at the unforeseen reminder. His mind stalled, then jump started a moment later. He had forgotten completely. He was already terminally late, and as captain, skipping practise was something he simply could not afford. Seamus would have his head, and Ron besides.

"Yeah, just on my way there now, thanks."

Leaning to the side, and making a show of readjusting his books, Harry shot a surreptitious glance up the long corridor. It was empty.

The little black cat was gone.

With a wave and one last disappointed look, Harry made his way back towards the main hall, heading for the pitch. But his mind was - for once - not on the routine ahead. There was something strange going on, he could feel it.

Harry lived by his intuition, it had kept him alive as a young boy, dodging Dudley's odious antics and the Dursleys loathsome association. As a wizard it had saved his life on more than one occasion. Hermione lived by her intellect, and Ron by his heart, but for Harry, perceiving those slivers of almost intangible observations were what had allowed him to survive. He had a way of seeing an entirely deeper realm of a situation, beyond academic logic and all practical sense.

And his instincts were screaming at him, far louder to him than any Howler, that the mysterious feline was far more than she seemed.

He was going to discover just what that entailed....

He did not see Dumbledore watch his hasty retreat, his gaze one of contemplation. And he was long gone before Luna stepped out from under the ancient wizard's robes, gave Dumbledore a grateful smile - a smile returned - and disappeared up the lengthy arcade like black lightening.

He did not see any of this, his haste to make Quidditch practise consuming his actions - if not his thoughts - causing him to hurry without any further backward glances.

However the cold gaze of the unseen Slytherin called Draco Malfoy did. A gaze clouded in ice and obscurity that did nothing to mask the sudden curiosity that sparked in the slate coloured eyes.

Curiosity that, for the first time, mirrored Harry Potter's own.








TO BE CONTINUED....




Chapter 4: Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus

Usagi encounters the Slytherin dragon when she goes wandering... It turns out to be an unforgettable experience - for her and Draco....


Amissus in Hogwarts - (Latin) Lost in Hogwarts (Title)
Opening piece - The Challenger'-- Leslie Fish. (Couldn't tell you where I first heart this... I can't remember to be honest.) O__o
'Tweedledum and Tweedledee'- Two interchangeable characters in Lewis Carrolls 'Through the Looking Glass'... One of my all time favourite books. I couldn't help but have Harry apply them to the likes of Crabbe and Goyle as Ms Rowling never seems to put much distinction between the pair. (And I love that Cheshire cat!!) *Grins*

Some random babble....

Severus is Latin for severe/strict or austere.... Ms Rowling knew what she was doing when she named him, ne? Snape is a village in middle England. ^__^ Poor Sevvie...

Draco is Latin for Dragon or Snake. Also a constellation. There was a Greek tyrant named Draco who was known for his cruelty. He wrote a strict law code with harsh punishment: i.e being hanged for stealing a loaf of bread. The word Draconian means harsh and cruel and severe.
Malfoy - Mal foi means 'bad faith' or 'bad trust' in French. O__o;; (I know... terrible isn't it?)

HAH! *Bounces around in glee* When I first read the word 'Avada Kedavra' it reminded me of 'Abra Kadabra' (I'm sure I'm not the only one.)
But upon looking I discovered it wasn't Latin at all... And I was stumped, I was curious as to why it sounded like the original word, and I wanted to know what it meant... So I kept looking...
HAH! *Begins to bounce around again* I found it! Eureka! ^__^

Origin: Avada Kedavra - Aramaic (So that's why I couldn't find it!) for 'Let the thing be destroyed'. It is said to be the original saying of Abra Kadabra. (Hence the similarities.)

........

And I just realised I have too much free time on my hands....

Though it makes me wonder if all those little kiddie magicians know exactly what they're saying when the have kids shout that along with them.....

*Clears her throat* Moving on...


OKAY......
I'm also not sure with how this chapter turned out at all. I've never written Draco or Harry or any of Rowling's characters before, so please forgive me if I mess up spectacularly. O__o;;

Don't anyone mention how I skipped ahead, didn't finish off the Luna's explanation scene or explain about Harry dreaming... Wait and see, please.

And those looking for intense drama and heaving action scenes one after another.... Um...

Please don't.

I like to give the characters a breather after something like the opening chapter. Allowing them to mellow out before throwing them neck deep into angst and melodrama again.
Besides, it would get rather boring if I had chapter after chapter of high strung emotions. Repetitive too. Some authors do it wonderfully, and have me trailing behind, drooling over my keyboard. However, I do not.

Sorry... Just how I write.... -__-;;

By the bye... I showed a friend of mine my concept for the entire plot of this story, ending and all... Know what she said?
(Laughingly) "You should be shot!"
O__o;;

Don't know if that's good or bad.

(*Eep* Damhnait, don't kill me!) *Hides*

*Bows* Thank you to all who reviewed and sent me encouraging e-mails.... I'd like to reply to all of them here, but I think I've rambled enough for now....



*Huggles and chocolate frogs*

Orin.



(I feel as though I'm forgetting something... But I can't think what....)


Don't you hate it when that happens...? O___o;;;