Technically, I really shouldn't be here, telling you this right now. I
should be dust; long since passed on and naught more than a mere memory.
For awhile there, I almost was. I was a protégé, an innuendo, and a ghost of the person who's telling you all this now. People thought I was going to die; they viewed me as just another loss; a victim of the horrible war we fought, and dismissed me with rarely more than a second glance.
And had it not been for a few people. a few very special, albeit odd, people, I would have been the statistic I was taken for. Hell, I even thought that was my fate, until I was brought back by thirteen people. Ironic, how so many people see that number to be an omen of imminent doom. Which was certainly considered to be my destiny. Hope, you'll find, was a word that was slashed to tatters during that horrible time.
But, as I said, there were thirteen people. And you already know that the ending shall be victorious, because I'm standing here talking to you at this very moment.
But Hectate help me, I shall not call this a happily ever after story. There was no true happiness, and we haven't reached the ever after yet. However, when we do, I intend to be, physically at least, ashes, so I'm sorry to say I won't be around to tell you.
In the meantime, let me tell you where the road twisted to lead me here to you.
'Some say that ever 'gainst that season comes, Wherein our savior's birth is celebrated The bird of dawning singeth all night long And then they say no spirit dare stir abroad The nights are wholesome, then no planets strike, No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm So hallowed, and so gracious, is that time....'
~ Hamlet
Such an interesting quote from my perspective. So touching, so lyrical. and yet barely a word of it could be true.
First of all, being Celtic meant that there was no savior to the level that most religions believed in. Christmas had simply become and over commercialized, incredible accessorized holiday we used to be overtly happy, gift giving people. And, of course, to be arse over teakettle drunk. Joy to the World!
As for the spirits, they seem to have quite enough fun roaming through hallways and singing mournful carols over my bed in the dead of night. I see no reason for them to be stirring abroad anymore than they already are. Witches not having the power to charm was just downright funny. I could not read that line without bursting out into distinct and raucous laughter. Every time. And to hear me laugh is a very interesting experience in general, but my trying to hold it in out of respect for the quote just manifested into a spasmodic, snorting outbursts that eventually turn to downright attacks of amusement. You get the idea?
But just to prove my point, during Christmas I wandered around casting an obnoxiously large amount of spells, rivaling Dumbledore in the decorations I put up. Consider it a personal vendetta to non-believers.
You may be wondering if there was a point to that long winded spiel. Basically to give explanation to the fact that I woke up on December 23rd with seven house elves danced as miniature Santa's proclaiming the need to decorate.
Suffice to say I was not a happy witch.
After the house elves had all been threatened with REAL clothes, (I had bewitched them and had someone else give them the clothes so they could be worn) I rolled back over, only to be awoken a few minutes later by a larger, and equally infuriating, person who wished to get into the Christmas Spirit.
Albus Dumbledore had entirely too much stamina for a man over a century old. A rumbling laugh alerted me of said presence, and a moment later there was a whiskery kiss planted on my cheek.
"Mrrrrrrrrph," I grumbled, and turned over to face him completely. "Wha' the bloody hell are you doing..."
He shook the mistletoe held over my head lightly and laughed again as I buried my head under my pillow. With the remaining hand, he swept over the top of the bed and my source of warmth soared away from the mattress.
"You're asking for it," I growled at him, and he raised an eyebrow quizzically.
"And what is it, exactly, that I'm asking for?"
"I'll decide that after I get my wand," I threatened, and reached instead for my bathrobe, tying the frayed rope ends together with decisive force.
Dumbledore winced. "There's really no need for a corset with you anymore, is there?"
"No," I answered, tugging at the ends a little tighter to ensure they really weren't going anywhere. "I figure I should probably accentuate my figure as much as possible without the use of whale bones."
"Yes, but with such devices, women were unable to take large breaths, and therefore unable to speak as much, so it had it's advantages. OW!" He rubbed at his arm where I boxed him, but recovered quickly enough to shake the mistletoe at me again.
I stepped back, shaking my hands. "No, no no. I don't need to walk out of here with whisker burns, shortly followed by you. It would look entirely wrong."
"Spoil sport," Dumbledore told me, but followed me out of the room after pocketing the sprig. I had no doubt I would be tortured with it later on.
As it turned out, Albus wasn't going to need that mistletoe he had hidden; he had bedecked the rest of the house in similar matter.
There was an enormous tree in the living room, spangled and beaded to within an inch of existence with fairies, twinkling ornaments, tinsel, and the like. In fact, I wasn't entirely sure that a tree was indeed under there.
The walls had been outlined with tinsel and tiny red and green lanterns, all presumably with fairies within. Enormous poinsettias had apparently taken root overnight, and were now lining the rooms as mass foliage. Mistletoe haunted every doorway, and floated ominously in midair. I had the uneasy feeling that he had bewitched tem somehow.
The house elves were different too. They had been given hats by Albus, who, not being their owner, did not free them, and were therefore bouncing about in Santa hats and pinstriped festive aprons. Dobby, who was spending the holidays with us, had taken it upon himself to knit extremely lumpy, very vibrant socks.
Now, having just woken up, I was rather inclined to believe that my sleepy eyes would be presented with a darkened corridor, a dimly lit kitchen, and perhaps some sunlight coming in through the windows. Imagine my surprise.
"ALBUS DUMBLEDORE!!" I shrieked, hiding my eyes behind my hands when I reached the top of the stairs.
"Yes?" he answered innocently, batting away an escaped fairy.
"What in the name of MERLIN. have you done. to this house?!"
He glanced over the banister at the festive nightmare that lay before him, and blinked. "Just brightened up the place a bit for the holidays, dear. What do you think?"
"Blinding," I grumbled, and descended the staircase the rest of the way.
"Glad you like it," he answered, and glided down the stairs beneath casual robes.
"I said no such thing, nor was it implied." One gets the distinct idea that I'm not the most cheerful person in the morning.
"You might feel better when you examine the kitchen's changes," he observed mildly, toying with a poinsettia leaf.
"Oh Gods, what did you do." I took off down the hall and burst into the kitchen.
Apart from the same obnoxiously festive tinsel that adorned the ceiling, the kitchen was actually a flurry of delicious looking foods, resembling Hogwart's best at a feast.
"Tea?" his deep voice rumbled from behind me, and I turned to see him sitting at the table congenially, holding the pot in his hands.
"Coffee," I corrected, and went to join him.
We were joined shortly by Sirius, who was completely illiterate before his first cup of coffee in the morning, and rather the living example of a caveman. He grumbled something and pulled the pot from my hands, sinking into a chair and pouring a steaming mug full, and downed it in one large gulp.
"Can you articulate in something past the Paleolithic period now?" I asked, and he looked at me with a glazed expression for a moment, trying to comprehend the usage of vocabulary with more than one syllable.
"That's rather cruel," Dumbledore commented, glancing up from the paper at me.
"No crueler than whiskery kisses first thing in the morning," I answered, and stuck my tongue out at him to emphasize my point. "I swear, it must be your goal in life to become Santa Claus."
"Tis long since been my secret ambition," he answered lightly, tugging at his beard thoughtfully. "However did you guess?"
"You fit the profile," I told him, then turned to Sirius, who was still looking at me over the rim of his coffee cup with a somewhat less hazed expression on his face.
"Would you please tell me what in hell you two are talking about this morning? I'm in no mood for twenty questions."
"I'd have thought you could have guessed."
"From what?" he prompted, disappearing behind the ceramic again.
"The sickening festivities that have overtaken this house, seemingly overnight."
Sirius looked up, with his eyes narrowed, and looked around the room for a moment, before turning back to me. "You did this to me, didn't you?"
I pointed an accusing finger at Albus, who merely shrugged and looked up at the ceiling innocently. I'm sure you've noticed, but he has the most annoying habit of looking overhead when he's trying to be neutral. And usually, he's very good at it.
"Don't look all sweet like that," I reprimanded suddenly, and his eyes snapped back to my face. "Anyway, it seems kind of silly to go through all this trouble-"
"No trouble," he assured me all too sweetly.
"Will you let me finish one thought in my life without interruptions?"
"My apologies. Feel free to continue."
"As I was saying, it seems rather silly to go through the trouble when we're going to spend the holidays at Hogwarts anyway."
Dumbledore looked surprised, which was an incredibly rare thing. I was very proud. "What do you mean."
"You offered it."
"I didn't think you'd except."
"I'm a lady of mysterious qualities."
"I've noticed."
I grinned cheekily and summoned breakfast, which that morning happened to be two pieces of buttered toast and a sunny side up egg. Albus looked up again, obviously disappointed. "That's all?"
"You've quite killed my appetite with this." I motioned at the kitchen. "Anyway, I assume that I'll be at Hogwarts soon enough, and bombarded by house elves that you sent to make sure I eat."
"Would that be a problem?"
"You know my formal robes?"
Albus nodded.
"I'd Like to fit INTO THEM!"
For awhile there, I almost was. I was a protégé, an innuendo, and a ghost of the person who's telling you all this now. People thought I was going to die; they viewed me as just another loss; a victim of the horrible war we fought, and dismissed me with rarely more than a second glance.
And had it not been for a few people. a few very special, albeit odd, people, I would have been the statistic I was taken for. Hell, I even thought that was my fate, until I was brought back by thirteen people. Ironic, how so many people see that number to be an omen of imminent doom. Which was certainly considered to be my destiny. Hope, you'll find, was a word that was slashed to tatters during that horrible time.
But, as I said, there were thirteen people. And you already know that the ending shall be victorious, because I'm standing here talking to you at this very moment.
But Hectate help me, I shall not call this a happily ever after story. There was no true happiness, and we haven't reached the ever after yet. However, when we do, I intend to be, physically at least, ashes, so I'm sorry to say I won't be around to tell you.
In the meantime, let me tell you where the road twisted to lead me here to you.
'Some say that ever 'gainst that season comes, Wherein our savior's birth is celebrated The bird of dawning singeth all night long And then they say no spirit dare stir abroad The nights are wholesome, then no planets strike, No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm So hallowed, and so gracious, is that time....'
~ Hamlet
Such an interesting quote from my perspective. So touching, so lyrical. and yet barely a word of it could be true.
First of all, being Celtic meant that there was no savior to the level that most religions believed in. Christmas had simply become and over commercialized, incredible accessorized holiday we used to be overtly happy, gift giving people. And, of course, to be arse over teakettle drunk. Joy to the World!
As for the spirits, they seem to have quite enough fun roaming through hallways and singing mournful carols over my bed in the dead of night. I see no reason for them to be stirring abroad anymore than they already are. Witches not having the power to charm was just downright funny. I could not read that line without bursting out into distinct and raucous laughter. Every time. And to hear me laugh is a very interesting experience in general, but my trying to hold it in out of respect for the quote just manifested into a spasmodic, snorting outbursts that eventually turn to downright attacks of amusement. You get the idea?
But just to prove my point, during Christmas I wandered around casting an obnoxiously large amount of spells, rivaling Dumbledore in the decorations I put up. Consider it a personal vendetta to non-believers.
You may be wondering if there was a point to that long winded spiel. Basically to give explanation to the fact that I woke up on December 23rd with seven house elves danced as miniature Santa's proclaiming the need to decorate.
Suffice to say I was not a happy witch.
After the house elves had all been threatened with REAL clothes, (I had bewitched them and had someone else give them the clothes so they could be worn) I rolled back over, only to be awoken a few minutes later by a larger, and equally infuriating, person who wished to get into the Christmas Spirit.
Albus Dumbledore had entirely too much stamina for a man over a century old. A rumbling laugh alerted me of said presence, and a moment later there was a whiskery kiss planted on my cheek.
"Mrrrrrrrrph," I grumbled, and turned over to face him completely. "Wha' the bloody hell are you doing..."
He shook the mistletoe held over my head lightly and laughed again as I buried my head under my pillow. With the remaining hand, he swept over the top of the bed and my source of warmth soared away from the mattress.
"You're asking for it," I growled at him, and he raised an eyebrow quizzically.
"And what is it, exactly, that I'm asking for?"
"I'll decide that after I get my wand," I threatened, and reached instead for my bathrobe, tying the frayed rope ends together with decisive force.
Dumbledore winced. "There's really no need for a corset with you anymore, is there?"
"No," I answered, tugging at the ends a little tighter to ensure they really weren't going anywhere. "I figure I should probably accentuate my figure as much as possible without the use of whale bones."
"Yes, but with such devices, women were unable to take large breaths, and therefore unable to speak as much, so it had it's advantages. OW!" He rubbed at his arm where I boxed him, but recovered quickly enough to shake the mistletoe at me again.
I stepped back, shaking my hands. "No, no no. I don't need to walk out of here with whisker burns, shortly followed by you. It would look entirely wrong."
"Spoil sport," Dumbledore told me, but followed me out of the room after pocketing the sprig. I had no doubt I would be tortured with it later on.
As it turned out, Albus wasn't going to need that mistletoe he had hidden; he had bedecked the rest of the house in similar matter.
There was an enormous tree in the living room, spangled and beaded to within an inch of existence with fairies, twinkling ornaments, tinsel, and the like. In fact, I wasn't entirely sure that a tree was indeed under there.
The walls had been outlined with tinsel and tiny red and green lanterns, all presumably with fairies within. Enormous poinsettias had apparently taken root overnight, and were now lining the rooms as mass foliage. Mistletoe haunted every doorway, and floated ominously in midair. I had the uneasy feeling that he had bewitched tem somehow.
The house elves were different too. They had been given hats by Albus, who, not being their owner, did not free them, and were therefore bouncing about in Santa hats and pinstriped festive aprons. Dobby, who was spending the holidays with us, had taken it upon himself to knit extremely lumpy, very vibrant socks.
Now, having just woken up, I was rather inclined to believe that my sleepy eyes would be presented with a darkened corridor, a dimly lit kitchen, and perhaps some sunlight coming in through the windows. Imagine my surprise.
"ALBUS DUMBLEDORE!!" I shrieked, hiding my eyes behind my hands when I reached the top of the stairs.
"Yes?" he answered innocently, batting away an escaped fairy.
"What in the name of MERLIN. have you done. to this house?!"
He glanced over the banister at the festive nightmare that lay before him, and blinked. "Just brightened up the place a bit for the holidays, dear. What do you think?"
"Blinding," I grumbled, and descended the staircase the rest of the way.
"Glad you like it," he answered, and glided down the stairs beneath casual robes.
"I said no such thing, nor was it implied." One gets the distinct idea that I'm not the most cheerful person in the morning.
"You might feel better when you examine the kitchen's changes," he observed mildly, toying with a poinsettia leaf.
"Oh Gods, what did you do." I took off down the hall and burst into the kitchen.
Apart from the same obnoxiously festive tinsel that adorned the ceiling, the kitchen was actually a flurry of delicious looking foods, resembling Hogwart's best at a feast.
"Tea?" his deep voice rumbled from behind me, and I turned to see him sitting at the table congenially, holding the pot in his hands.
"Coffee," I corrected, and went to join him.
We were joined shortly by Sirius, who was completely illiterate before his first cup of coffee in the morning, and rather the living example of a caveman. He grumbled something and pulled the pot from my hands, sinking into a chair and pouring a steaming mug full, and downed it in one large gulp.
"Can you articulate in something past the Paleolithic period now?" I asked, and he looked at me with a glazed expression for a moment, trying to comprehend the usage of vocabulary with more than one syllable.
"That's rather cruel," Dumbledore commented, glancing up from the paper at me.
"No crueler than whiskery kisses first thing in the morning," I answered, and stuck my tongue out at him to emphasize my point. "I swear, it must be your goal in life to become Santa Claus."
"Tis long since been my secret ambition," he answered lightly, tugging at his beard thoughtfully. "However did you guess?"
"You fit the profile," I told him, then turned to Sirius, who was still looking at me over the rim of his coffee cup with a somewhat less hazed expression on his face.
"Would you please tell me what in hell you two are talking about this morning? I'm in no mood for twenty questions."
"I'd have thought you could have guessed."
"From what?" he prompted, disappearing behind the ceramic again.
"The sickening festivities that have overtaken this house, seemingly overnight."
Sirius looked up, with his eyes narrowed, and looked around the room for a moment, before turning back to me. "You did this to me, didn't you?"
I pointed an accusing finger at Albus, who merely shrugged and looked up at the ceiling innocently. I'm sure you've noticed, but he has the most annoying habit of looking overhead when he's trying to be neutral. And usually, he's very good at it.
"Don't look all sweet like that," I reprimanded suddenly, and his eyes snapped back to my face. "Anyway, it seems kind of silly to go through all this trouble-"
"No trouble," he assured me all too sweetly.
"Will you let me finish one thought in my life without interruptions?"
"My apologies. Feel free to continue."
"As I was saying, it seems rather silly to go through the trouble when we're going to spend the holidays at Hogwarts anyway."
Dumbledore looked surprised, which was an incredibly rare thing. I was very proud. "What do you mean."
"You offered it."
"I didn't think you'd except."
"I'm a lady of mysterious qualities."
"I've noticed."
I grinned cheekily and summoned breakfast, which that morning happened to be two pieces of buttered toast and a sunny side up egg. Albus looked up again, obviously disappointed. "That's all?"
"You've quite killed my appetite with this." I motioned at the kitchen. "Anyway, I assume that I'll be at Hogwarts soon enough, and bombarded by house elves that you sent to make sure I eat."
"Would that be a problem?"
"You know my formal robes?"
Albus nodded.
"I'd Like to fit INTO THEM!"
