Chapter 7: Hey, Sherlock, Your Hair Is On Fire
Dumbledore stared placidly at the unruly group, waiting for silence. Legolas refused to put down his bow, so Flame did the best she could: She hit him on the back of the head with the butt of her flamethrower and knocked him out. "One day I'm gonna blow up every single man that so much as looks at me," she growled. Ron stared at her; he was rather afraid of her now. Hermione grabbed Spidey and pulled him towards the door. Maybe she should tell him what she'd done....? No, better not to. She had to find the culprit on her own. She slipped out the door.
When everyone was calmed down and looking expectantly at Dumbledore, he began in a harsh, eau-de-movie whisper. "What....brings you...here?" Ron blinked, as he had the feeling he'd already asked that question. "We need to find out why these guys are here and how to get them back." "There are no coincidences. The mascara was made into a portkey for a reason." "Hunh? How'd you know about that?" "This." Dumbledore held up a script entitled, "Social Misfits in Mary Sue Land, Final Copy". "I'm not allowed to say anything that's not in the script. It seems the author wants you to figure it out in your own. Oh, dear, I didn't mean to let that slip..." And he disappeared with a puff of smoke, and a small red slip of paper drifted down to the floor. "Script Violation," it read. "You, Albus Dumbledore, are no longer a part of this fic. STICK TO THE SCRIPT, YOU SENILE OLD MAN!! Nyuk nyuk nyuk." Ron picked up the paper and shoved it in his pocket, and the little company of victims from crossover hell filed silently out, except for Legolas.
The moment Legolas had been knocked out, every fangirl in the school felt it. Most chose to ignore it, several didn't know what it was because they didn't know they were fangirls, but the most devoted and chivalrous of them rushed to him at once, whether they were in class, asleep, or eating. They used their Fangirl Emergency Radar to find him; the radar is much like the force that enables a mother to lift a car in order to save her child. There were four of them. One was a Slytherin, one a Gryffindors, one was a Ravenclaw, one was a teacher. The new Defense Against The Dark Arts professor was young and beautiful, because this is a fanfic, and very, very odd. She never spoke aside from when she was teaching, and always wore long, black, flowing robes. She kept her hood up, and very few people had actually seen her entire face and head. Just for the record though, she was pale and black-haired and could have been Belwyn's sister, aside from the handwashing and the corpseishness. Parvati Patil, Cho Chang, and Susan Barnes looked at the body of their beloved in the empty room, not sure what to do. They all looked expectantly at the teacher, who was smiling under her hood, her face clothed in shadow. "You have come," She said in a soft, low, velvety voice that was hard to hear. The three girls nodded. "Are you the only ones of your kind?" Cho spoke up. "No, there are others, but only we cared enough to help him in his time of need." "I sense that there are others about, namely one. She is a newcomer here. Have you not questioned how he got here?" Three heads shook. "Good. It is better that way. Best to leave it to me." They stared stupidly at her, much like in Chapter One. "Now, I will heal him. Move, dears, it is only a minor injury. But we must never speak of this meeting. I am your teacher, that is all." The girls nodded, and the cloaked figure bent over the body of the blonde young man (yeah, BLONDE. When it's a guy's hair, you're supposed to say blond, but does Leggie's hair LOOK like a guy's hair? I think not.) and stroked his hair. She took a small, delicate glass bottle from somewhere inside her robes and opened the mouth of the unconscious Legolas. She unstoppered the bottle and poured a little of the clear, fragrant liquid down his throat. She waved her hand once and his labored breathing became even. She chanted as she waved, and none of the girls could make out the words or even the language used. Their teacher, whose name had formerly been Miss Lacey, looked up at the girls and said, "When I am with you girls, my name is Koname. It means 'Moonglow' in some obscure American Indian language, if you're wondering. Meet me in the West Tower, midnight tomorrow. Don't be late. If you do not show, you will remember none of this, nothing that happened today at all. And I have forseen it, one or more of you will not show. It is inevitable. Go now, back to your classes. I will tend to him now. And you must speak to NO ONE about this. It shouldn't matter, because you won't be able to. Please, I don't mean you any harm, but just in case...." She raised her hand, still kneeling, and muttered an incantation. "There. Now even if you try, you won't be able to speak about it. If you do not show up tomorrow and your memory of tonight is erased, as it will be, this protective jynx will be lifted and you will be able to speak free again. Go now. I will tend to my beloved." They left, quite confused. Two of them planned to skip the meeting; it was all too weird. But one of them would show.
Hermione was in the library, reading the tiny print in mountains of dusty tomes. Vampirism. How to become a vampire. How to ward off vampires. It was all too vague. She had taken to carrying garlic with her and made sure all her friends did, too, though they scorned her. Ever since the murder she had become very wary of anyone who seemed out of place. She even contemplated going to see Professor Trelawney about having a future- reading done, to see if she would haveto kill any more vampires. Professor Trelawney had taken over Professor McGonagall's old job for now, and would undoubtedly be replaced, but Transfiguration had lost its fun for the time being. Her old job had been given to that new teacher, Miss Lacey, who also taught Defense Against the Dark Arts. Hermione didn't like Miss Lacey, there was something...fishy about her. Maybe she was Canadian? Hermione decided that was part of the problem, as that was a pretty good excuse. At fist she thought that Miss Lacey had been a necromancer or dabbled in some other illegal magic, but that wasn't it.....she reminded Hermione of someone. And she hardly ever used a wand. That was what was so odd, Hermione thought. Only twice had she seen Miss Lacey ever use a wand. She waved her hand a lot, and sometimes in the hall when you passed her you might hear her singing, so softly, in some other language. And she had an aura about her....was she a sorceress? Sorcery was different from magic; Magic was regulated and governed, and sorcery dealt with geomancy and immense power, that one was born into, and the natural ability to See into the future and go back in time and other bizarre and highly illegal things. Ron had mentioned that his brother Charlie occasionally came across a sorcerer in the woods of some out- of- the- way countries, hold up in the woods all alone. Hermone finished her pile of vampire books and found one on sorcery, which had to be read with a magnifying glass, as it was handwritten in a curly, elaborate style and was nearly impossible to read with the naked eye. She heard a snicker behind her. Someone turned off the lantern that was perched on a small end table directly behind Hermione's chair. She whirled around, rather angrily, magnifying glass still in hand. Candy snickered again. "Your hair's on fire, Sherlock. You had your head practically in the lamp." And she dumped her glass of water on Hermione, and left.
Dumbledore stared placidly at the unruly group, waiting for silence. Legolas refused to put down his bow, so Flame did the best she could: She hit him on the back of the head with the butt of her flamethrower and knocked him out. "One day I'm gonna blow up every single man that so much as looks at me," she growled. Ron stared at her; he was rather afraid of her now. Hermione grabbed Spidey and pulled him towards the door. Maybe she should tell him what she'd done....? No, better not to. She had to find the culprit on her own. She slipped out the door.
When everyone was calmed down and looking expectantly at Dumbledore, he began in a harsh, eau-de-movie whisper. "What....brings you...here?" Ron blinked, as he had the feeling he'd already asked that question. "We need to find out why these guys are here and how to get them back." "There are no coincidences. The mascara was made into a portkey for a reason." "Hunh? How'd you know about that?" "This." Dumbledore held up a script entitled, "Social Misfits in Mary Sue Land, Final Copy". "I'm not allowed to say anything that's not in the script. It seems the author wants you to figure it out in your own. Oh, dear, I didn't mean to let that slip..." And he disappeared with a puff of smoke, and a small red slip of paper drifted down to the floor. "Script Violation," it read. "You, Albus Dumbledore, are no longer a part of this fic. STICK TO THE SCRIPT, YOU SENILE OLD MAN!! Nyuk nyuk nyuk." Ron picked up the paper and shoved it in his pocket, and the little company of victims from crossover hell filed silently out, except for Legolas.
The moment Legolas had been knocked out, every fangirl in the school felt it. Most chose to ignore it, several didn't know what it was because they didn't know they were fangirls, but the most devoted and chivalrous of them rushed to him at once, whether they were in class, asleep, or eating. They used their Fangirl Emergency Radar to find him; the radar is much like the force that enables a mother to lift a car in order to save her child. There were four of them. One was a Slytherin, one a Gryffindors, one was a Ravenclaw, one was a teacher. The new Defense Against The Dark Arts professor was young and beautiful, because this is a fanfic, and very, very odd. She never spoke aside from when she was teaching, and always wore long, black, flowing robes. She kept her hood up, and very few people had actually seen her entire face and head. Just for the record though, she was pale and black-haired and could have been Belwyn's sister, aside from the handwashing and the corpseishness. Parvati Patil, Cho Chang, and Susan Barnes looked at the body of their beloved in the empty room, not sure what to do. They all looked expectantly at the teacher, who was smiling under her hood, her face clothed in shadow. "You have come," She said in a soft, low, velvety voice that was hard to hear. The three girls nodded. "Are you the only ones of your kind?" Cho spoke up. "No, there are others, but only we cared enough to help him in his time of need." "I sense that there are others about, namely one. She is a newcomer here. Have you not questioned how he got here?" Three heads shook. "Good. It is better that way. Best to leave it to me." They stared stupidly at her, much like in Chapter One. "Now, I will heal him. Move, dears, it is only a minor injury. But we must never speak of this meeting. I am your teacher, that is all." The girls nodded, and the cloaked figure bent over the body of the blonde young man (yeah, BLONDE. When it's a guy's hair, you're supposed to say blond, but does Leggie's hair LOOK like a guy's hair? I think not.) and stroked his hair. She took a small, delicate glass bottle from somewhere inside her robes and opened the mouth of the unconscious Legolas. She unstoppered the bottle and poured a little of the clear, fragrant liquid down his throat. She waved her hand once and his labored breathing became even. She chanted as she waved, and none of the girls could make out the words or even the language used. Their teacher, whose name had formerly been Miss Lacey, looked up at the girls and said, "When I am with you girls, my name is Koname. It means 'Moonglow' in some obscure American Indian language, if you're wondering. Meet me in the West Tower, midnight tomorrow. Don't be late. If you do not show, you will remember none of this, nothing that happened today at all. And I have forseen it, one or more of you will not show. It is inevitable. Go now, back to your classes. I will tend to him now. And you must speak to NO ONE about this. It shouldn't matter, because you won't be able to. Please, I don't mean you any harm, but just in case...." She raised her hand, still kneeling, and muttered an incantation. "There. Now even if you try, you won't be able to speak about it. If you do not show up tomorrow and your memory of tonight is erased, as it will be, this protective jynx will be lifted and you will be able to speak free again. Go now. I will tend to my beloved." They left, quite confused. Two of them planned to skip the meeting; it was all too weird. But one of them would show.
Hermione was in the library, reading the tiny print in mountains of dusty tomes. Vampirism. How to become a vampire. How to ward off vampires. It was all too vague. She had taken to carrying garlic with her and made sure all her friends did, too, though they scorned her. Ever since the murder she had become very wary of anyone who seemed out of place. She even contemplated going to see Professor Trelawney about having a future- reading done, to see if she would haveto kill any more vampires. Professor Trelawney had taken over Professor McGonagall's old job for now, and would undoubtedly be replaced, but Transfiguration had lost its fun for the time being. Her old job had been given to that new teacher, Miss Lacey, who also taught Defense Against the Dark Arts. Hermione didn't like Miss Lacey, there was something...fishy about her. Maybe she was Canadian? Hermione decided that was part of the problem, as that was a pretty good excuse. At fist she thought that Miss Lacey had been a necromancer or dabbled in some other illegal magic, but that wasn't it.....she reminded Hermione of someone. And she hardly ever used a wand. That was what was so odd, Hermione thought. Only twice had she seen Miss Lacey ever use a wand. She waved her hand a lot, and sometimes in the hall when you passed her you might hear her singing, so softly, in some other language. And she had an aura about her....was she a sorceress? Sorcery was different from magic; Magic was regulated and governed, and sorcery dealt with geomancy and immense power, that one was born into, and the natural ability to See into the future and go back in time and other bizarre and highly illegal things. Ron had mentioned that his brother Charlie occasionally came across a sorcerer in the woods of some out- of- the- way countries, hold up in the woods all alone. Hermone finished her pile of vampire books and found one on sorcery, which had to be read with a magnifying glass, as it was handwritten in a curly, elaborate style and was nearly impossible to read with the naked eye. She heard a snicker behind her. Someone turned off the lantern that was perched on a small end table directly behind Hermione's chair. She whirled around, rather angrily, magnifying glass still in hand. Candy snickered again. "Your hair's on fire, Sherlock. You had your head practically in the lamp." And she dumped her glass of water on Hermione, and left.