Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I wish I did, but I don't. The
only thing I own is the plot, and I ain't getting any money for that
either. The characters that are mine are the ones you haven't heard of
before. That being said,
~Fic Starts Here~
There was a brief silence as Flame and Rhea watched Mordred walk a way, his mother guiding him, with her hand on his back.
"Well. He was rather hot." Rhea piped up.
Flame turned to her. "He's my great-uncle."
"So? I don—WHAT? YOU'RE GREAT UNCLE? HOW THE HELL CAN HE BE YOUR GREAT-UNCLE? HE'S 11! THERE IS NO WAY IN—"
Flame clapped her hands over Rhea's mouth. "You said that already. And, well, you know, Serena, the slut who had sexy with Voldemort?"
Rhea nodded.
"Well, if Voldie's my great-great uncle, and he had sex with Serena, well, what happens when two people have sex?"
"Flame, why are you asking Rhea about the mechanics of sex, if you're covering her mouth? You should at least let her answer," chided Essie, walking in.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ollivander's Wand Shop. This was where their magic careers started. Where wizard such as Dumbledore, Voldemort, and Merlin first got their wands, those instruments of magical power—
"WHAT?!" yelled Rhys, to the curious stares of everyone outside Ollivanders, "How the BLOODY FUCKING HELL—"
--Which is where Draco immediately clapped a hand over his son's mouth. "Language, son," he said sternly. He looked around quickly before whispering, "If you're going to curse, curse away from your mother. The rest of us don't care."
Rhys nodded quickly as Draco rapidly walked into the wand shop. He waited ten seconds before whispering furiously, "I mean, I KNOW you have a Thing for older guys, Rhea, but this is going WAY too far."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The rather large Lei/Weasley/Malfoy entourage somehow crammed into the somewhat dusty premises that made up Olivanders. Yet another branch of the Weasley clan joined them—Cho Chang and Percy, along with their daughter, Diana.
Diana was VERY pretty—some even described her as vividly stunning. She had the Weasley hair, but Cho's Asian eyes gave her an exotic air. It hovered around her, like an aura of attraction that seemed magnetized to all the male eyes in the immediate vicinity. She had Percy's tall, thin frame but Cho's posture. The result was a stance that would have made Miss Manners applaud.
Diana was clever—sometimes her father remarked that she was too clever. When she was little, she had convinced him that she could read—at the age of two. It was soon discovered that she had only memorized her favorite bedtime story.
Likewise, Rhys couldn't take his eyes off her.
Interrupting Rhys's hormonally-linked chain of thought, Mr. Ollivander stepped into the crowd of Weasleys, Leis, and Malfoys. "Ah yes. I've been waiting for this group."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
An hour later, everyone but the Malfoy twins and Flame were happily paying for their wands. Diana was happily squared away with a Sphinx claw in magnolia, 15 inches ("clever and beautiful, but of course, remarkably adept at throwing both curses and their counter-curses"). Clislee had an oak wand of 10 inches, filled with the mane of a hippocampus ("manly, robust. Perfect for complex transfiguration"). Lance, of course, all ready had a wand.
Which left Rhea, Rhys, and Flame.
Rhea was in the middle of trying her thirty-second wand. "Oh, gosh, Mr. Ollivander, I'm sorry! Here, let me clean up that cut of yours—"
"No, no, my dear, it's quite all right. I'll clean it up later. But, we must hope—that is, I'm sure that the thirty-third is the charm—"
Rhea obediently took the wand offered to her. A curiously warm feeling ran through her as her fingers clasped the dark wood. A gasp shook her, as it seemed to giggle mischieviously.
"I do believe we have a match!" Cried Mr. Ollivander, delightedly. "Ah, yes—ebony and siren hair—11 and ¾ inches. Rather cheery—as I recall, the siren who gave me that strand of hair almost succeeded in seducing me by her laughter—hm. But that's another story."
Rhea fingered the wand carefully. She was liking it better every minute.
Rhys, meanwhile, was trying valiantly to let go of a wand that seemed to be intent on blasting him with red smoke. The problem was, it didn't seem to want to let go of his hand.
Mr. Ollivander rushed over immediately. "I'm terribly sorry. Lemon tree and pixie dust does that when a wizard doesn't happen to be suitable. You're lucky—if you were a witch, your face would be green."
Mr. O gingerly removed the offending wand and placed it into a case with magical locks. He stared at Rhys with a calculating look on his face. Dare he try it? He pulled a handkerchief from his pocked. "Put this on over your eyes."
Rhys obeyed, slightly confused.
"Now go and feel for a wand." (an: ARGH! Didn't sound right………I know)
Rhys slowly walked forward, arms outstretched, trying desperately to avoid all the sharp pointed objects on the floor. He ran his hands down the wall of wands, searching f or one that felt right when--*POOF*
"BLOODY HELL! NOT MORE PIXIE DUST!"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
After yet another slight mishap involving an ice-cream cone, and some leftover red smoke, Rhys finally paid for his wand—a 15 inch silver birch, with Pegasus feather inside (perfect for transfiguration).
Leaving Flame.
Mr. Ollivander looked at her curiously. There was something………peculiar about this girl. Oh, he knew the story of Voldemort's defeat, and the significance of the crystal around Fire's neck.
"May I?" he asked, gesturing towards the charm
Flame nodded
He lightly lifted the jewel away from her neck. It wasn't the gem that he was interested in, but what lay beneath.
A small, blood red birthmark, echoing a petal of fiery flame bloomed in the little hollow of her neck.
Mr. Ollivander traced it thoughtfully. "Hmm………I wonder………"
"Yes?"
Mr. Ollivander immediately snapped out of his reverie. "Flame, I believe you are telepyric?"
"Yes."
"You've always had a close connection with fire?"
"Yes."
"Did you play with hot coals as a baby?"
"Yes," she hesitated, "I still do." She added, rather reluctantly. It wasn't a fact most people were comfortable with. Many people thought it was an attempt at self-mutilation. It wasn't.
"And you've never been burned in your life." The last was a statement, more definite than not.
"No, of course not! If I did burn myself, why would I play with hot coals? I'm not that stupid. Or depressed."
"Indeed." Mr. O wasn't really listening. His eyes were busily scanning the shelves. Where was it? You never could be sure, but—
"Here. Sandalwood and dragon flame. 13 inches. Give it a wave."
Fire's eyes widened. "Dragon FLAME?"
"Well, a captured, frozen, dragon flame, but a dragon's flame nonetheless. What are you waiting for? Come on, wave it around a bit."
Flame obeyed. Instantly, her eyes glowed red and a small, orange petal of fire settled onto her birthmark, without burning her, of course. Rather, it soaked into her skin—a droplet of combustion.
"Oh." Why did she feel so………drunk………now?
"Indeed. Careful………highly magical flames like that one can be quite intoxicating to those of a telepyric nature."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
AN: Well? Did you like it? Hm. The next chapter is better. I promise. It's call "Family Reunion, Part 2." So I'll just let you think about that *wink wink* before I sign off!
~LW
~Fic Starts Here~
There was a brief silence as Flame and Rhea watched Mordred walk a way, his mother guiding him, with her hand on his back.
"Well. He was rather hot." Rhea piped up.
Flame turned to her. "He's my great-uncle."
"So? I don—WHAT? YOU'RE GREAT UNCLE? HOW THE HELL CAN HE BE YOUR GREAT-UNCLE? HE'S 11! THERE IS NO WAY IN—"
Flame clapped her hands over Rhea's mouth. "You said that already. And, well, you know, Serena, the slut who had sexy with Voldemort?"
Rhea nodded.
"Well, if Voldie's my great-great uncle, and he had sex with Serena, well, what happens when two people have sex?"
"Flame, why are you asking Rhea about the mechanics of sex, if you're covering her mouth? You should at least let her answer," chided Essie, walking in.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ollivander's Wand Shop. This was where their magic careers started. Where wizard such as Dumbledore, Voldemort, and Merlin first got their wands, those instruments of magical power—
"WHAT?!" yelled Rhys, to the curious stares of everyone outside Ollivanders, "How the BLOODY FUCKING HELL—"
--Which is where Draco immediately clapped a hand over his son's mouth. "Language, son," he said sternly. He looked around quickly before whispering, "If you're going to curse, curse away from your mother. The rest of us don't care."
Rhys nodded quickly as Draco rapidly walked into the wand shop. He waited ten seconds before whispering furiously, "I mean, I KNOW you have a Thing for older guys, Rhea, but this is going WAY too far."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The rather large Lei/Weasley/Malfoy entourage somehow crammed into the somewhat dusty premises that made up Olivanders. Yet another branch of the Weasley clan joined them—Cho Chang and Percy, along with their daughter, Diana.
Diana was VERY pretty—some even described her as vividly stunning. She had the Weasley hair, but Cho's Asian eyes gave her an exotic air. It hovered around her, like an aura of attraction that seemed magnetized to all the male eyes in the immediate vicinity. She had Percy's tall, thin frame but Cho's posture. The result was a stance that would have made Miss Manners applaud.
Diana was clever—sometimes her father remarked that she was too clever. When she was little, she had convinced him that she could read—at the age of two. It was soon discovered that she had only memorized her favorite bedtime story.
Likewise, Rhys couldn't take his eyes off her.
Interrupting Rhys's hormonally-linked chain of thought, Mr. Ollivander stepped into the crowd of Weasleys, Leis, and Malfoys. "Ah yes. I've been waiting for this group."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
An hour later, everyone but the Malfoy twins and Flame were happily paying for their wands. Diana was happily squared away with a Sphinx claw in magnolia, 15 inches ("clever and beautiful, but of course, remarkably adept at throwing both curses and their counter-curses"). Clislee had an oak wand of 10 inches, filled with the mane of a hippocampus ("manly, robust. Perfect for complex transfiguration"). Lance, of course, all ready had a wand.
Which left Rhea, Rhys, and Flame.
Rhea was in the middle of trying her thirty-second wand. "Oh, gosh, Mr. Ollivander, I'm sorry! Here, let me clean up that cut of yours—"
"No, no, my dear, it's quite all right. I'll clean it up later. But, we must hope—that is, I'm sure that the thirty-third is the charm—"
Rhea obediently took the wand offered to her. A curiously warm feeling ran through her as her fingers clasped the dark wood. A gasp shook her, as it seemed to giggle mischieviously.
"I do believe we have a match!" Cried Mr. Ollivander, delightedly. "Ah, yes—ebony and siren hair—11 and ¾ inches. Rather cheery—as I recall, the siren who gave me that strand of hair almost succeeded in seducing me by her laughter—hm. But that's another story."
Rhea fingered the wand carefully. She was liking it better every minute.
Rhys, meanwhile, was trying valiantly to let go of a wand that seemed to be intent on blasting him with red smoke. The problem was, it didn't seem to want to let go of his hand.
Mr. Ollivander rushed over immediately. "I'm terribly sorry. Lemon tree and pixie dust does that when a wizard doesn't happen to be suitable. You're lucky—if you were a witch, your face would be green."
Mr. O gingerly removed the offending wand and placed it into a case with magical locks. He stared at Rhys with a calculating look on his face. Dare he try it? He pulled a handkerchief from his pocked. "Put this on over your eyes."
Rhys obeyed, slightly confused.
"Now go and feel for a wand." (an: ARGH! Didn't sound right………I know)
Rhys slowly walked forward, arms outstretched, trying desperately to avoid all the sharp pointed objects on the floor. He ran his hands down the wall of wands, searching f or one that felt right when--*POOF*
"BLOODY HELL! NOT MORE PIXIE DUST!"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
After yet another slight mishap involving an ice-cream cone, and some leftover red smoke, Rhys finally paid for his wand—a 15 inch silver birch, with Pegasus feather inside (perfect for transfiguration).
Leaving Flame.
Mr. Ollivander looked at her curiously. There was something………peculiar about this girl. Oh, he knew the story of Voldemort's defeat, and the significance of the crystal around Fire's neck.
"May I?" he asked, gesturing towards the charm
Flame nodded
He lightly lifted the jewel away from her neck. It wasn't the gem that he was interested in, but what lay beneath.
A small, blood red birthmark, echoing a petal of fiery flame bloomed in the little hollow of her neck.
Mr. Ollivander traced it thoughtfully. "Hmm………I wonder………"
"Yes?"
Mr. Ollivander immediately snapped out of his reverie. "Flame, I believe you are telepyric?"
"Yes."
"You've always had a close connection with fire?"
"Yes."
"Did you play with hot coals as a baby?"
"Yes," she hesitated, "I still do." She added, rather reluctantly. It wasn't a fact most people were comfortable with. Many people thought it was an attempt at self-mutilation. It wasn't.
"And you've never been burned in your life." The last was a statement, more definite than not.
"No, of course not! If I did burn myself, why would I play with hot coals? I'm not that stupid. Or depressed."
"Indeed." Mr. O wasn't really listening. His eyes were busily scanning the shelves. Where was it? You never could be sure, but—
"Here. Sandalwood and dragon flame. 13 inches. Give it a wave."
Fire's eyes widened. "Dragon FLAME?"
"Well, a captured, frozen, dragon flame, but a dragon's flame nonetheless. What are you waiting for? Come on, wave it around a bit."
Flame obeyed. Instantly, her eyes glowed red and a small, orange petal of fire settled onto her birthmark, without burning her, of course. Rather, it soaked into her skin—a droplet of combustion.
"Oh." Why did she feel so………drunk………now?
"Indeed. Careful………highly magical flames like that one can be quite intoxicating to those of a telepyric nature."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
AN: Well? Did you like it? Hm. The next chapter is better. I promise. It's call "Family Reunion, Part 2." So I'll just let you think about that *wink wink* before I sign off!
~LW