Kneazle - Don't worry 'bout it, I take no offense in being asked if I
took something from your fic. To be brutally honest, I've never heard
of your fic before (but then, the extent of my reading has gone from
searching the HP archives to following the links left in my reviews
^___^), so where I got the Hermione as Enchantress thing...
wonderful things thesauruses are. That's also where I get chapter
titles when I'm stuck for names. Thank God that book never leaves my
desk. It's a life saver.
Radcliffe-Lover - Call it creative license. Harry killed old Dumbly
because he's very much insane, and the old man had locked up his
connection with the Power. To be honest, I _like_ Dumbledore. The old
and wise, but slightly psychotic, characters are always fun. He's just
dead because that's the way the story flowed.
Kalih - No worries for Mione's parents. I've no plans to kill them off
Herm's just picked up a bit of Harry's psychopathic-ness, due to the
connection of their minds, and happens to think that because _she_
likes her new place in the world, her parents will too... ^-^;;
Black Rose - And I've sent you back an email. ^__^ SD will kill me for
having Harry torture Sev, but he's so fun to mess around with :P No
worries, Katar will get back at Fudge for the past tweleve years in the
twit's service.
howling wolf - *grins*
darkhaven - You'll have to wait a couple more chapters. . I wanted to
attempt to make an explaination but... well, the story didn't go that
way. Maybe Draco will explain it to Anger-Management-Man in later
chapters. (AMM is at the end of the chapter. The name is based on a
stupid comment he makes...)
VIRUS - On weekends.
Fire-Mage - Don't you hate it when something happens to erase your
reviews? Evil, evil, evil things...
Phoenix Flight - I doubt it myself; I know _my_ parents wouldn't...
I'm going to be going on about this forever... you know the drill: RPG
at http://icetemple.tripod.com/ come check it out.
Argh, I've got Paparoach stuck in my head. Maybe I shouldn't have spent
the day listening to them...
I'm pretty sure I'm not Rowling. Check that, I'm positive I'm not
Rowling. I'm just borrowing her pets.
---
Blackened Sunrise
Chapter Forty-Two : Spells
The Itch
---
The Gryffindor common room was cramped, with all the people jammed into
it.
Harry distantly noted this as he entered the room, followed by
Hermione, Draco and the surviving professors. Impossibly green eyes
swept across the faces of the students, and he frowned darkly. They
were far to young to be of any help to him, now. He allowed Draco,
Snape, Trelawney, Flitwick, Binns and Sprout to slip past him and into
the room to attempt to straighten out the chaos that had erupted from
so many people being in one room, but held Hermione back.
His chill gaze remained focused on the students, but his voice was
directly solely to the Enchantress, "Are there any spells that can
manipulate time?"
She hiked an eyebrow, "Of course there is. Don't tell me you've
forgotten about Time Turners..."
"Something a bit more reliable than that," he mused softly, "We need...
a room, in the castle. One wherein time flows at different rates than
the rest of the world."
"A place to train," she inferred, "you want to train them...?"
"They'll be good soldiers," he grinned widely, turning to face her,
eyes dancing wickedly, "Loyal to Gunn-girl, if we play our cards
right."
She smirked back at him, "You just want to kick their asses without
them going on about it."
"What can I say...?" he chuckled, "I like pain."
---
Ron's headache had returned with a vengeance, and he whimpered
slightly. It was not quiet enough to not be heard, and Hermione cast
him a concerned look, "Are you alright, Ron?"
"Migraine," he ground out through grit teeth, driving his palms into
his eyes in a desperate attempt to stave off the pounding pulse behind
them. It didn't work, but he did manage to see some pretty funky spots.
The Enchantress frowned, stepping forwards to place her hand on his
forehead in an attempt to 'sense' in some way what was causing his
headaches. In the past two days since the massacre in the Great Hall,
Ron's headaches had been a constant companion, and it was beginning to
worry her. She couldn't understand why Harry wasn't worried about it,
but then, she didn't understand a whole lot about the way Harry's mind
worked, even if a small part of her was always connected to him.
And then it dawned on her, as her magicks told her there was nothing
wrong with Ron-- just that a part of him had awoken, and it would take
some getting used to. No wonder Harry wasn't worried-- he'd probably
know all along!
She sent a spike of annoyance down the connection to the DID-positive
teenager, and only got the equivalent of a wide grin back.
"Don't fight the visions then," she smiled at his stunned look,
laughing lightly, "The headaches come from trying to suppress something
that your senses are trying to tell you. Stop ignoring them and
_listen_."
"That's fine for you to say," he growled, although the bite was taken
from the words with the pain that tinged his voice, "_you_ don't have
the _pleasure_ of watching people _die_ _repeatedly_."
"No, I just have to share Harry's nightmares of things that happened to
him in the past," at her friend's startled look, she smiled a bit
sadly, "He's nutters for a reason, Ron. Weapon had _lots_ of times to
come out and play. None of us ever saw it, though. Now I am."
"Hermione..."
"But no worries," she cheered almost instantly, "it's all in the past
now. And we're talking about you suppressing your visions. It's a
stress on your body, so just let them come, and deal with them
afterwards."
He stared at her for a few minutes, occasionally wincing, before he
nodded his acceptance of the fact. With a hiss of breath, he let go the
restraints he'd built up to keep the visions out of his mind, and then
he was gone, swept up in a whirlwind of sights, sounds, colors and
images. It was a rush.
And it only lasted a couple valuable senses, as though it wanted to get
out of him as fast as possible before he managed to lock down on it
again. Hermione was staring at him, concerned, and he crawled to his
feet.
He winced slightly, "You wouldn't happen to know where there's a
pensieve, would you?"
---
"Wrong!" Harry barked, green eyes narrow as he surveyed his new band of
students, "Again!"
Gasping for breath, Dean sunk to the floor, sword clattering to the
ground, his opponent-- a Hufflepuff fourth year named Lizza Dandril--
doing much the same. The other sixth year shook his head, sweat flying
in tiny droplets, "We need a breather, Harry. We don't have your
endurance..."
The sixteen year old frowned, crossing his arms, and scowling with
annoyance off into the distances, apparently mentally speaking with
Weapon. After a few moments, Potter relented and sighed, annoyed,
"Fine, fine. Take a rest."
Stomp-stomp-stomp went his feet as the Living Weapon sulked his way to
the bench in one corner of the large training center they'd found at
the center of the school. The Marauder's Map was a wonderful device to
have. Unfortunately, there were no rooms in the castle like the one
he'd wanted to train the students in, so that they could get the most
training out of them as soon as possible, without having to worry about
taking years upon years.
So Hermione, Ron, Severus and Flitwick had been set upon the tomes in
the Restricted Section of the library in search of the proper spell. He
desperately hoped that they had the answer soon. If he had that extra
time, he wouldn't have to run the students into the ground, and thus
they'd be less exhausted, and more ready to get back to training the
next day.
Virginia had been instructed to make sure that the students were
getting along well, and ensuring that they weren't being overworked.
Harry had very carefully manipulated all the arguments that he held
with Gunn over how hard he was training his students within hearing
range of one or the other. It was all a careful plot to get them to be
loyal to Ginny, if not to him.
Besides, she was going to be the Queen. He, and Draco, and Hermione and
maybe Ron were going to be the vigilantes that worked without the
Queen's directive, and no one knew that they were friends with the
woman.
In Harry's mind, it was the perfect plan to be able to keep his Balance
from becoming lopsided. If Ginny was acting "of the light" then they
would act "of the dark". If Ginny was "evil", they'd be "good". It was
all a matter of balance.
Harry.
Hermione's presence rippled to fill a space in his mind he hadn't
realized was empty until she was there.
Yeeeeeessssss? he drawled, amused, and completely ignoring his sulking
from a few minute earlier, What can I do for the pretty lady?
He got the impression he was getting a Glare O'death from her, I know
very well that Living Weapons don't feel any sexual desire.
You're still pretty, he pouted.
Ouuuuuu, whatever! Look, we've managed to find a spell that can be
cast... and according to Ron's visions--
He finally decided to accept them, then?
--I have to hurt you for keeping this away from me. Anyways, according
to Ron's visions, only one person in the castle at this time can cast
the spell. Also, the room has to be completely empty, or else you'll
never be able to remove anything from inside it. You're essentially
created a bubble of magic in which you can speed everything up as fast
as you like, or even go as slow as you like. You could have a day pass
in there, and have it be millennia outside, or vice versa.
Good work. Who's the one who can cast the spell?
You'll like this one, she laughed, It's Malfoy.
Dragon? Weapon finally butted in on the conversation, I was... unaware
that he was so powerful a wizard.
He's not my level, Hermione returned, but he's fairly strong in natural
ability. It's a requirement of the spell, you can only have a certain
range of power for it. I'm to strong, and everyone else is to weak.
Malfoy's perfect for it.
Good, Weapon nodded to himself, contact Dragon about this.
And find out the largest the room can get! Harry called cheerfully as
Hermione slipped out of his consciousness.
He came back to reality to find Dean, Lizza, and the other students
back in the center of the room, chatting idly.
"If you've got the energy to talk, you've got the energy to practice!"
the teenager shouted, "Begin again!"
There was a collective groan.
---
"She took all I ever had... no sign of guilt, not feelin' bad..."
Draco blinked as the seventh year Ravenclaws-- he couldn't remember the
name off hand, continued to intermittently sing and hum as he wander
the halls, nose jammed in a book, "L-l-l-l-ove, She fuckin' hates
me..."
"What are you singing?" he was genuinely curious for once. He'd never
heard anything like that. Then again, Wizarding music just tended
towards being boring old chants, unchanged since the fourteenth
century. The Ravenclaw jumped, startled, blinking wide, clear umber
eyes at the younger teen.
"Shit Malfoy, you startled me."
"What were you singing?" Draco repeated, staring curiously at the
seventh year. He was a mudblood, that much he knew. Other than that,
anything and everything about this member of the Over-Achievers Club of
Hogwarts was unknown to him. The pureblood wondered if there were a
large number of muggles with multicolored hair. This seventeen year old
had wild blonde and red hair, with thin streaks of blue and purple
through out it.
The seventeen year old ran his fingers through his hair, "She Hates Me,
by Puddle of Mudd."
"Puddle of Mudd?" the pureblood wondered curiously. Puddles could talk?
The Ravenclaw grinned widely, slinging an arm around Malfoy's
shoulders. For a moment, the Weapon thought about knocking his arm
away, or even just shifting back into his natural form-- having become
human while he slunk through the halls; he stood out less-- and cutting
his arm off, but the multicolored haired one was already talking,
"They're a muggle musical band. I had my sister burn a bunch of songs
for my discman, and had it enchanted so it works on magic instead of
batteries-- can't stand wizard music. Bloody boring, if you ask me."
The older teen was guiding Draco through the halls, excitedly lecturing
about the plus points of muggle music over wizarding, and chattering on
about the problems of attempting to learn how to play a bass guitar
while at Hogwarts, and without instruction, and how it was just _so_
rewarding to know he had done that _and_ managed to keep good grades so
his parents couldn't read his the riot act.
And that was how Potter found his second in command-- lounging in an
empty classroom, somehow having been convinced to beat upon a set of
drums the Ravenclaw had summoned, while said Ravenclaw goofed off on
his bass guitar. They weren't really creating music, just sound, but
Draco was getting a kick out of the drums. Muggles were quite
inventive-- creating a musical instrument to bash the hell out of when
they were pissed off. Why hadn't wizards thought of that?
Oh, right, Wizards rarely did anything without their wands.
Harry blinked several times at the scene, "Draco...?"
The pale haired one looked up with a grin, setting the sticks down,
"Hullo Potter!"
"What are you doing...?"
"Taking inventive anger management classes," grinned the multicolored
haired one. Harry belatedly recognized him as one of the students who,
at the beginning of the year, had thought Harry had been 'damned
awesome' with all his piercing, and had said so right to his face.
Nathaniel... something or other.
He tipped his head in greeting, "Hey Nate. Bladewhip, we've found the
spell."
"....and?"
Draco and Nate shuddered as Harry pulled a pair of doe-eyes and a
sickly sweet smile on them, "You're the only one who can do the spell,
Dragon."
Draco sighed, staring longingly at the drumset, and Nate laughed, "I'll
leave it here for you to bang on, Malfoy. See you 'round Potter."
And he left. Harry scratched his head, "Wow."
"Wow what?"
"He's not scared of me," the amazed teen blinked rapidly, "Didn't even
flinch when I looked at him."
"Probably locked himself into his music," Draco padded out of the room,
waiting until Harry had slipped out before locking it with the Power,
"Did you know that muggles have some seriously inventive music?"
"Compared to Wizarding music, laughing hyenas are inventive," was
Harry's dry response, "But yeah, I knew."
"And you didn't _tell_ me?!"
"I didn't think you'd be interested!"
"Pooooootter!!"
---
End Chapter
Yeah, stupid ending, but I thought was light hearted fluff would be
nice. I have no idea if Nate will show up again or not. Lizza won't, I
just needed someone for Dean to be dukin' it out with, that I didn't
have to bother with writing back into the story.
What's the general consensus? Should Nate be Draco's
Anger-Management-Man, or fade back into obscurity until some crucial
battle, where he pops up for a few seconds to belt someone in the face
with his bass guitar? *grins* Stupid image, I know. But funny as hell.
took something from your fic. To be brutally honest, I've never heard
of your fic before (but then, the extent of my reading has gone from
searching the HP archives to following the links left in my reviews
^___^), so where I got the Hermione as Enchantress thing...
wonderful things thesauruses are. That's also where I get chapter
titles when I'm stuck for names. Thank God that book never leaves my
desk. It's a life saver.
Radcliffe-Lover - Call it creative license. Harry killed old Dumbly
because he's very much insane, and the old man had locked up his
connection with the Power. To be honest, I _like_ Dumbledore. The old
and wise, but slightly psychotic, characters are always fun. He's just
dead because that's the way the story flowed.
Kalih - No worries for Mione's parents. I've no plans to kill them off
Herm's just picked up a bit of Harry's psychopathic-ness, due to the
connection of their minds, and happens to think that because _she_
likes her new place in the world, her parents will too... ^-^;;
Black Rose - And I've sent you back an email. ^__^ SD will kill me for
having Harry torture Sev, but he's so fun to mess around with :P No
worries, Katar will get back at Fudge for the past tweleve years in the
twit's service.
howling wolf - *grins*
darkhaven - You'll have to wait a couple more chapters. . I wanted to
attempt to make an explaination but... well, the story didn't go that
way. Maybe Draco will explain it to Anger-Management-Man in later
chapters. (AMM is at the end of the chapter. The name is based on a
stupid comment he makes...)
VIRUS - On weekends.
Fire-Mage - Don't you hate it when something happens to erase your
reviews? Evil, evil, evil things...
Phoenix Flight - I doubt it myself; I know _my_ parents wouldn't...
I'm going to be going on about this forever... you know the drill: RPG
at http://icetemple.tripod.com/ come check it out.
Argh, I've got Paparoach stuck in my head. Maybe I shouldn't have spent
the day listening to them...
I'm pretty sure I'm not Rowling. Check that, I'm positive I'm not
Rowling. I'm just borrowing her pets.
---
Blackened Sunrise
Chapter Forty-Two : Spells
The Itch
---
The Gryffindor common room was cramped, with all the people jammed into
it.
Harry distantly noted this as he entered the room, followed by
Hermione, Draco and the surviving professors. Impossibly green eyes
swept across the faces of the students, and he frowned darkly. They
were far to young to be of any help to him, now. He allowed Draco,
Snape, Trelawney, Flitwick, Binns and Sprout to slip past him and into
the room to attempt to straighten out the chaos that had erupted from
so many people being in one room, but held Hermione back.
His chill gaze remained focused on the students, but his voice was
directly solely to the Enchantress, "Are there any spells that can
manipulate time?"
She hiked an eyebrow, "Of course there is. Don't tell me you've
forgotten about Time Turners..."
"Something a bit more reliable than that," he mused softly, "We need...
a room, in the castle. One wherein time flows at different rates than
the rest of the world."
"A place to train," she inferred, "you want to train them...?"
"They'll be good soldiers," he grinned widely, turning to face her,
eyes dancing wickedly, "Loyal to Gunn-girl, if we play our cards
right."
She smirked back at him, "You just want to kick their asses without
them going on about it."
"What can I say...?" he chuckled, "I like pain."
---
Ron's headache had returned with a vengeance, and he whimpered
slightly. It was not quiet enough to not be heard, and Hermione cast
him a concerned look, "Are you alright, Ron?"
"Migraine," he ground out through grit teeth, driving his palms into
his eyes in a desperate attempt to stave off the pounding pulse behind
them. It didn't work, but he did manage to see some pretty funky spots.
The Enchantress frowned, stepping forwards to place her hand on his
forehead in an attempt to 'sense' in some way what was causing his
headaches. In the past two days since the massacre in the Great Hall,
Ron's headaches had been a constant companion, and it was beginning to
worry her. She couldn't understand why Harry wasn't worried about it,
but then, she didn't understand a whole lot about the way Harry's mind
worked, even if a small part of her was always connected to him.
And then it dawned on her, as her magicks told her there was nothing
wrong with Ron-- just that a part of him had awoken, and it would take
some getting used to. No wonder Harry wasn't worried-- he'd probably
know all along!
She sent a spike of annoyance down the connection to the DID-positive
teenager, and only got the equivalent of a wide grin back.
"Don't fight the visions then," she smiled at his stunned look,
laughing lightly, "The headaches come from trying to suppress something
that your senses are trying to tell you. Stop ignoring them and
_listen_."
"That's fine for you to say," he growled, although the bite was taken
from the words with the pain that tinged his voice, "_you_ don't have
the _pleasure_ of watching people _die_ _repeatedly_."
"No, I just have to share Harry's nightmares of things that happened to
him in the past," at her friend's startled look, she smiled a bit
sadly, "He's nutters for a reason, Ron. Weapon had _lots_ of times to
come out and play. None of us ever saw it, though. Now I am."
"Hermione..."
"But no worries," she cheered almost instantly, "it's all in the past
now. And we're talking about you suppressing your visions. It's a
stress on your body, so just let them come, and deal with them
afterwards."
He stared at her for a few minutes, occasionally wincing, before he
nodded his acceptance of the fact. With a hiss of breath, he let go the
restraints he'd built up to keep the visions out of his mind, and then
he was gone, swept up in a whirlwind of sights, sounds, colors and
images. It was a rush.
And it only lasted a couple valuable senses, as though it wanted to get
out of him as fast as possible before he managed to lock down on it
again. Hermione was staring at him, concerned, and he crawled to his
feet.
He winced slightly, "You wouldn't happen to know where there's a
pensieve, would you?"
---
"Wrong!" Harry barked, green eyes narrow as he surveyed his new band of
students, "Again!"
Gasping for breath, Dean sunk to the floor, sword clattering to the
ground, his opponent-- a Hufflepuff fourth year named Lizza Dandril--
doing much the same. The other sixth year shook his head, sweat flying
in tiny droplets, "We need a breather, Harry. We don't have your
endurance..."
The sixteen year old frowned, crossing his arms, and scowling with
annoyance off into the distances, apparently mentally speaking with
Weapon. After a few moments, Potter relented and sighed, annoyed,
"Fine, fine. Take a rest."
Stomp-stomp-stomp went his feet as the Living Weapon sulked his way to
the bench in one corner of the large training center they'd found at
the center of the school. The Marauder's Map was a wonderful device to
have. Unfortunately, there were no rooms in the castle like the one
he'd wanted to train the students in, so that they could get the most
training out of them as soon as possible, without having to worry about
taking years upon years.
So Hermione, Ron, Severus and Flitwick had been set upon the tomes in
the Restricted Section of the library in search of the proper spell. He
desperately hoped that they had the answer soon. If he had that extra
time, he wouldn't have to run the students into the ground, and thus
they'd be less exhausted, and more ready to get back to training the
next day.
Virginia had been instructed to make sure that the students were
getting along well, and ensuring that they weren't being overworked.
Harry had very carefully manipulated all the arguments that he held
with Gunn over how hard he was training his students within hearing
range of one or the other. It was all a careful plot to get them to be
loyal to Ginny, if not to him.
Besides, she was going to be the Queen. He, and Draco, and Hermione and
maybe Ron were going to be the vigilantes that worked without the
Queen's directive, and no one knew that they were friends with the
woman.
In Harry's mind, it was the perfect plan to be able to keep his Balance
from becoming lopsided. If Ginny was acting "of the light" then they
would act "of the dark". If Ginny was "evil", they'd be "good". It was
all a matter of balance.
Harry.
Hermione's presence rippled to fill a space in his mind he hadn't
realized was empty until she was there.
Yeeeeeessssss? he drawled, amused, and completely ignoring his sulking
from a few minute earlier, What can I do for the pretty lady?
He got the impression he was getting a Glare O'death from her, I know
very well that Living Weapons don't feel any sexual desire.
You're still pretty, he pouted.
Ouuuuuu, whatever! Look, we've managed to find a spell that can be
cast... and according to Ron's visions--
He finally decided to accept them, then?
--I have to hurt you for keeping this away from me. Anyways, according
to Ron's visions, only one person in the castle at this time can cast
the spell. Also, the room has to be completely empty, or else you'll
never be able to remove anything from inside it. You're essentially
created a bubble of magic in which you can speed everything up as fast
as you like, or even go as slow as you like. You could have a day pass
in there, and have it be millennia outside, or vice versa.
Good work. Who's the one who can cast the spell?
You'll like this one, she laughed, It's Malfoy.
Dragon? Weapon finally butted in on the conversation, I was... unaware
that he was so powerful a wizard.
He's not my level, Hermione returned, but he's fairly strong in natural
ability. It's a requirement of the spell, you can only have a certain
range of power for it. I'm to strong, and everyone else is to weak.
Malfoy's perfect for it.
Good, Weapon nodded to himself, contact Dragon about this.
And find out the largest the room can get! Harry called cheerfully as
Hermione slipped out of his consciousness.
He came back to reality to find Dean, Lizza, and the other students
back in the center of the room, chatting idly.
"If you've got the energy to talk, you've got the energy to practice!"
the teenager shouted, "Begin again!"
There was a collective groan.
---
"She took all I ever had... no sign of guilt, not feelin' bad..."
Draco blinked as the seventh year Ravenclaws-- he couldn't remember the
name off hand, continued to intermittently sing and hum as he wander
the halls, nose jammed in a book, "L-l-l-l-ove, She fuckin' hates
me..."
"What are you singing?" he was genuinely curious for once. He'd never
heard anything like that. Then again, Wizarding music just tended
towards being boring old chants, unchanged since the fourteenth
century. The Ravenclaw jumped, startled, blinking wide, clear umber
eyes at the younger teen.
"Shit Malfoy, you startled me."
"What were you singing?" Draco repeated, staring curiously at the
seventh year. He was a mudblood, that much he knew. Other than that,
anything and everything about this member of the Over-Achievers Club of
Hogwarts was unknown to him. The pureblood wondered if there were a
large number of muggles with multicolored hair. This seventeen year old
had wild blonde and red hair, with thin streaks of blue and purple
through out it.
The seventeen year old ran his fingers through his hair, "She Hates Me,
by Puddle of Mudd."
"Puddle of Mudd?" the pureblood wondered curiously. Puddles could talk?
The Ravenclaw grinned widely, slinging an arm around Malfoy's
shoulders. For a moment, the Weapon thought about knocking his arm
away, or even just shifting back into his natural form-- having become
human while he slunk through the halls; he stood out less-- and cutting
his arm off, but the multicolored haired one was already talking,
"They're a muggle musical band. I had my sister burn a bunch of songs
for my discman, and had it enchanted so it works on magic instead of
batteries-- can't stand wizard music. Bloody boring, if you ask me."
The older teen was guiding Draco through the halls, excitedly lecturing
about the plus points of muggle music over wizarding, and chattering on
about the problems of attempting to learn how to play a bass guitar
while at Hogwarts, and without instruction, and how it was just _so_
rewarding to know he had done that _and_ managed to keep good grades so
his parents couldn't read his the riot act.
And that was how Potter found his second in command-- lounging in an
empty classroom, somehow having been convinced to beat upon a set of
drums the Ravenclaw had summoned, while said Ravenclaw goofed off on
his bass guitar. They weren't really creating music, just sound, but
Draco was getting a kick out of the drums. Muggles were quite
inventive-- creating a musical instrument to bash the hell out of when
they were pissed off. Why hadn't wizards thought of that?
Oh, right, Wizards rarely did anything without their wands.
Harry blinked several times at the scene, "Draco...?"
The pale haired one looked up with a grin, setting the sticks down,
"Hullo Potter!"
"What are you doing...?"
"Taking inventive anger management classes," grinned the multicolored
haired one. Harry belatedly recognized him as one of the students who,
at the beginning of the year, had thought Harry had been 'damned
awesome' with all his piercing, and had said so right to his face.
Nathaniel... something or other.
He tipped his head in greeting, "Hey Nate. Bladewhip, we've found the
spell."
"....and?"
Draco and Nate shuddered as Harry pulled a pair of doe-eyes and a
sickly sweet smile on them, "You're the only one who can do the spell,
Dragon."
Draco sighed, staring longingly at the drumset, and Nate laughed, "I'll
leave it here for you to bang on, Malfoy. See you 'round Potter."
And he left. Harry scratched his head, "Wow."
"Wow what?"
"He's not scared of me," the amazed teen blinked rapidly, "Didn't even
flinch when I looked at him."
"Probably locked himself into his music," Draco padded out of the room,
waiting until Harry had slipped out before locking it with the Power,
"Did you know that muggles have some seriously inventive music?"
"Compared to Wizarding music, laughing hyenas are inventive," was
Harry's dry response, "But yeah, I knew."
"And you didn't _tell_ me?!"
"I didn't think you'd be interested!"
"Pooooootter!!"
---
End Chapter
Yeah, stupid ending, but I thought was light hearted fluff would be
nice. I have no idea if Nate will show up again or not. Lizza won't, I
just needed someone for Dean to be dukin' it out with, that I didn't
have to bother with writing back into the story.
What's the general consensus? Should Nate be Draco's
Anger-Management-Man, or fade back into obscurity until some crucial
battle, where he pops up for a few seconds to belt someone in the face
with his bass guitar? *grins* Stupid image, I know. But funny as hell.