The Attack of the Moose-Men and a Greasy Haired Banshee

Disclaimer: No, you idiot, I don't own Harry Potter, and who are you to say I want to? What I really want to do is direct! And now you know the rest of the story. Back to my disclaimer, I own nothing, not this computer, not the characters. But I do own Luna's thoughts, which doesn't really seem to be a good thing, as she's coming out like a total mad woman... I mean werewolf :)

"Are you doing all right?" Harry asked me as he, Hermione, Buckbeak, and I hobbled out the door of Hagrid's cabin, me leaning heavily on Hermione. We had torn a piece of my already wrecked robe to form a tight bandage of sorts around my still bleeding and throbbing shin.

"Mmm hmmm. I'm fine. What about you two?"

"Good," they said together.

I grinned. "Oh, and thank you for saving my life," I said. "That stag was more beautiful than the face of the moon." I stared at the moon suddenly. So this was it. She had marked me as her own. I thought about that. Yes, I was a werewolf, so what does that make me? A Moon-Minion? A Moonling? Mini-Moon?

"Hey, look! That- executioner man- Macnair- he's gone to get the dementors for Sirius!" Hermione said, breaking the silence.

"This is it!" Harry said. He turned to me. "Are you sure you're okay for this flight? Honestly, you're bleeding through the bandage!"

"If I don't come with you, I won't get back in time for Professor Dumbledore to lock me back in with you two- thus something amazingly awful will happen… Like maybe I'll never get to go back in time, or somehow it will tie up my self so that it will come to be that I never existed-"

Hermione gave me a rather pained look. "Luna, please don't list the ways in which we could mess this up and cause our demise or something."

"Okay, but it would still be fun." I submitted. The possibilities were wonderful though. It gives you a sort of power, and distraction, which was kind of what I most needed at that moment. Just try to imagine- with the ability to change the past, I could probably affect my birth to the point where I was born a Crumple-Horned-Snorkack or a hippogriff. Or maybe I could make myself not be a werewolf? Ahh, don't dwell on negative things- you can't change it, so Lycanthropy is hereby declared a wondrous blessing by order of Luna Lovegood! Hey, maybe I could be like one of those Muggle super heroes with the capes, and swoop about saving people, and calling myself the Magically Magestical Moonling- Wolf-Woman!

I glanced at Harry realizing he had said something.

"Err, Luna, need help getting on?" He asked.

"Oh, no, I should be fine." I hopped over to Beaky and asked him if he would kindly let me on his back. He snorted and backed away from me. Had I been rude to him? No- no, surely not-

"I think he… he's afraid of you Luna. He- he can... sense... who-wh-what you are..." Hermione whispered nervously in my ear. "I hope not," I said, in as cheerful a way as I could muster. Be happy, always something to be happy about… Like now, for instance. I'm here with my only friends. Well, they risked their lives for me anyway, and that's almost as good as being the discoverer of the Customized-Penmanship-Auto-Quill (you know, the ones that can be taught to swear.) Wait, wasn't I supposed to be having a moving realization that Harry and Hermione saved my life? Hmm, guess not. Let's get on Beaky now!

I put my hand on Buckbeak's side, but he trundled to the side, away from me. He could sense the magic that my newfound curse was apparently radiating.

I turned to him. "Buckbeak. You are going to let me on your back right this instant," I said coldly. I was rather offended. I mean, seriously, a bloody cat with wings is judging me? Talk about hypocritical loons. I began to hum some morbid drinking song that the sixth years had been teaching everybody- Nice song, it's all about a lad who drinks so much Firewhiskey that he spontaneously turns into any one of the professors they feel like insulting- Usually Professor Snape. But they probably do have a point there. It's like this- Professor Snape was a human once but- I mentally reached this part and stopped abruptly. Snape was a human. Snape was a human. And I wasn't.Well, so what- I'm cooler. And I bet if I cut my finger, I can use my blood for all sorts of cool potions. Yes, I will quite probably be the envy of potions students everywhere! I quickly dismissed this thought as unseemingly futile and swung myself onto Beaky's back.

He gave a few grunts of indignation, but remained mostly silent as Harry and Hermione clambered up in front of me.

"You two all ready?" Harry asked us. I latched my arms to Hermione's waist, and she did so to Harry. "Hold on tight-"

He nudged Beaky's side with his heels and we rocked off. It was a distinctly uncomfortable sensation, as though I was being gripped in the claws of a monstrous bird and whacked repeatedly against the force of the wind. Which was of course, exactly what we were doing. Except for the claws. That was just some clever description. Sort of.

"Oh- dear- I don't like this- I really don't like this at all-" Hermione kept muttering. I sighed as we smoothly glided toward the upper floors of the castle. Harry yanked around with Beaky's ropes, the said hippogriff hardly seeming to notice our weight. We counted the windows as they shot fast, and then-

"Woah!" said Harry, stopping Buckbeak, though he (Beaky, not Harry. Harry hasn't got wings that I know of… hmmm, I bet he does and hasn't told us. Yes, that's it! And that's how he's so good with flying on things- broomsticks and hippogriffs. Now I only wonder where he got them…. Oh, I bet he simply grew them himself… or, no… HARRY POTTER IS HALF HIPPOGRIFF! Oh, wait until The Quibbler gets a load of this one!) continued to beat his wings to remain airborne.

"He's there!" Harry pointed at the dim silhouette of Sirius Black. Harry struggled to open it, but the window just refused to give.

"Stand back!" Hermione called to Black, pulling out her wand. I wondered briefly what her wand was made of. My wand had been in my Mum's family for ages, and it almost had the same properties as Da's wand. 11 inches, with the feather of a griffin in it. Course, it was more than that. See, when the wand was made, the feather was immersed in the venom of a basilisk for twenty-four hours, and that somehow made it super powerful. I never found out what wood it was- never really cared. Anyway- I was betting Hermione's would have either dragon heartstring or a unicorn hair- what do I know though.

"Alohomora!" Hermione cried, and the window sprang open.

"How-how-?" Black said in a weak voice, staring at us, shocked. I couldn't blame him. If I was in his position, I would have just assumed it was all madness and not worth bothering with. But I would have bothered with it anyway, because all things are interesting, when not told from the voice of Professor Binns.

"Get on- there's not much time," Harry said, holding Buckbeak steady. Black slipped through the window and pulled himself on behind me.

"You've got to get out of here- the dementors are coming- Macnair's gone to get them."

"Please take us up to that tower Beaky dear. I don't frankly care if you don't like me. If you let Harry or Hermione get hurt Hagrid'll never forgive you."

Beaky began flying, and snorted a lot, displaying his immense dislike of me. Pity, really, he was such a nice hippogriff. A little bigoted against werewolves but- I couldn't really blame him. He swept his wings through the air once and we were there. We landed with a sort of crash. Harry and Hermione slid down at once, and grasped my waist and helped me get down without making my leg much worse than it already was. The pain flared up again as I found myself leaning on it, and I bit back a whimper and smiled.

"What's your middle name?" I asked Black. "Err, Orion." He he said, suprised, as though wondering why the spider monkey I would care what his middle name was..

"That's quite pleasant. Like the stars." I said vaguely. Well, I guess if it matters at all, I sort of say everything in that sort of tone. It's just my natural tone. It makes me sound daft, I think. Oh, well, I haven't got the best voice, as Professor Lupin had learned.

I breathed in sharply. Professor Lupin. He was going to hate himself. Well… I could hope I was wrong, anyway. Maybe it wasn't Professor Lupin, I thought hopefully. Dung, of course it is, I chided myself.

"Sirius, you'd better go, quick. They'll reach Flitwick's office any moment, they'll find out you're gone." Harry panted. Poor thing, all out of breath.

"What happened to the other boy? Ron?" Sirius Orion said in a creaky voice. I immediately decided that I never wished to hear him sing the Phantom of the Opera.

"He's in the hospital wing, he'll be better by tomorrow, I bet." I said idly. Sirius Orion seemed to really notice me for the first time.

"What happened to you?"

"I made Professor Lupin listen to my singing, and he didn't enjoy it as much as I did."

"You mean-"

"Sirius, you have to go!" Harry said.

"How can I ever thank-"

"GO!" Harry and Hermione shouted as one. "Live long and prosper, Sirius Orion," I said, quoting that Muggle T.V. show that one of my cousins was so obsessed with.

Sirius Orion Black gave me a strange, almost pitying look, and I bristled. I didn't want pity, and I didn't need it- there are worse off people. He, himself, for one. He shifted to gaze at Harry, while wheeling Beaky around.

"We'll see each other again," he said to Harry. "You are- truly your father's son, Harry."

I deeply wished for a camera, this was truly a Kimirac moment, or whatever that Muggle commercial is. It was so pretty, I almost cried from the sheer beauty of that scene. It was truly moving. I felt a tear trickle down my cheek. I sniffed. Sirius took off into the sky, and Harry, hearing my snuffling, glanced at me, and I could almost suppose he thought me mad. Well, him and the rest of the narrow-minded universe.

"Harry! Luna!" Hermione said. "We've got exactly ten minutes to get back down to the hospital wing without anybody seeing us- before Dumbledore locks the door-"

"Hmm, that rhymed. Dumbledore-Door." I observed. Harry shook his head. "Let's go. Lean on me, Luna."

I leaned heavily on Harry's shoulder, hopping along with them as quietly as I could. The three of us snuck through the doorway behind them and encountered a long, tightly spiraling staircase. I put an arm around Harry and Hermione's shoulders, and we got down as quickly and stealthily as I could. We must have looked like awesome secret agents, and that Muggle part of me that seems to so enjoy Broadway productions was silently yearning to hex someone, blow on the edge of the wand and say, "Lovegood. Luna Lovegood. I like my martinis stirred, not shaken." Or something. It would fit so perfectly. But something told me that if I chose such a course of action, Hermione would quite possibly murder me. Poor dear, she was so stressed.

We finally reached the bottom of the staircase, only to hear voices. We flattened ourselves against the wall and listened carefully. Fudge and Snape. Again. Don't they have anything better to do? Skiing? Teaching dementors to waltz? This was getting sad. Oh, they were going to be simply crushed when they learned of Sirius Orion's escape.

"…only hope Dumbledore's not going to make difficulties. The Kiss will be performed immediately?" Snape was saying. That man was seriously disturbed.

"As soon as Macnair returns with the dementors. This whole Black affair has been highly embarrassing. I can't tell you how much I'm looking forward to informing the Daily Prophet that we've got him at last…."

I didn't pay much attention to the rest of what he said. I was silently fuming. The Daily Prophet! That horrible, useless, biased, idiotic paper! Oh, how I despised that name. It was The Quibbler's competition, and it was such a stupid paper. They were completely biased against, like, everybody at some point, and they leaned on Fudge's word so much that they were completely unreliable as a source of information. At least The Quibbler publishes important things that the public truly needs to know, not just articles expressing the wonder that is Cornelius Fudge.

The Dumb Duo passed by us; we could see Snape smirking with unrepressed, malintended, joy.

We waited a minute, to be sure they had left, then took off again. This time, Harry just plain carried me. I threw my arms around his neck, silently expressing thanks for being thin, and for Harry having upper-arm strength. It was rather nice actually. With him carrying me, I was able to imagine that I was some sort of beautiful heroine in a classical romance novel, and now my prince was rescuing me. "Ah, the wonder that is an imagination". Yes, another quote straight from Da.

Down a staircase, up a corridor, through another- then we heard this completely wicked cackling.

"Peeves!" Harry muttered. "In here!" And he lumbered into an abandoned classroom, putting me down so he could rest, and softly shutting the door just in time, as Peeves came bouncing down corridor.

Peeves. Now that's a funny name. He floats about calling me "Looney, Loco, Luna" all the time, but he has a name like Peeves. Really. Hmmm, funny nicknames for him. "Pitiful Pisshead Peeves"? "Prowling, Pathetic, Peeves"? "Peeves the Pig"? "Peeves the Porcine Prat"? No, nothing can actually be used to describe him but "Peeves the Poltergeist". Pity.

I think Peeves is in love with Mrs. Norris. It's quite logical, to be honest. It surely explains his unending hatred for Mr. Filch. See, Mr. Filch married Mistress Norris before Peeves ever came into the picture, but- alas! The moment Peeves saw that demonic feline, his cold, prankster's heart just broke with flowing passion for her. But he was too late. Mrs. Norris was the wife of the ever-vigilant Argus Filch, and nothing could remedy the situation. So the lonely Peeves took up a life of a hooligan poltergeist, his sole purpose in life- or limbo, or whatever he's got- being to win Mrs. Norris over.

I feel for him in this sad tale, and so I don't get too upset when he calls me names, because I know that deep down, he is just a broken spirit, consumed by his love for a cat, and dying for love unrequited.

I can only sit here and wonder why these people are so in love with a bloody cat.

"Oh, he's horrible," Hermione was saying. "I bet he's all excited because the dementors are going to finish off Sirius… Three minutes!"

We waited until Peeves's gloating voice had faded away; then Harry swung me up into his arms again, and we sped down the hall. We said nothing, knowing that if we didn't get back in time, we were probably doomed. Or something like that.

"One minute!" Hermione moaned, checking her watch as we went. We hurried to the end of the corridor with the hospital wing entrance. "Okay- I can hear Dumbledore, come on!"

We crept along the corridor. The door opened and Dumbledore's back appeared. I briefly wondered why he always wore the blue robes. I mean, nothing wrong with a little color variation sometimes.

"I'm going to lock you in. It is five minutes to midnight. Miss Granger, three turns should do it. Good luck." Said Dumbledore, backing out of the room and closing the door. We panicked and ran forward, Harry starting to strain from my weight.

We reached the headmaster, and Harry put me down carefully, trying not to ram my foot onto the floor or something.

Dumbledore eyebrows rose at the sight of me, but he gave us a small smile. "Well? How did this happen?"

"It's a very long story, but we did it! Sirius is gone, on Buckbeak…."

Dumbledore beamed at us.

"Well done. I think-" He listened intently for any sound within the room. We could distantly hear my voice: "Don't…. Mum… Time-Turner…."

I could feel myself blushing. There was now silence in the wing. Yes, I think you've gone too- get inside- I'll lock you in- I'll be back later for details, if you please." We slipped back into the dormitory. It was empty except for Ron, who was still unconscious, though that could be expected, since only a minute had really passed since we had left. Ironic really. Lives can change in less than a moment. Weren't we living proof?

I crept-hopped back to my bed, and snuggled inside, knowing I would have to go back to the sideline audience until Dumbledore returned. Suddenly the thought occurred to me- what if he made me leave Hogwarts! I doubted he would- he had allowed Professor Lupin to stay, but well… look what that had gotten him. Poor Professor Lupin… oh, guilt be a monster of many guises.

It wasn't his fault…. But I somehow knew he would think it was.

Harry and Hermione crept back to their respective beds, Hermione tucking the time turner under her robes. Not more than a moment later, Madame Pomfrey came stomping back out of her office.

"Did I hear the headmaster leaving? Am I allowed to look after my patients now?"

She struck me as being about as cheerful as an aggravated acromantula. Just because she is hung over from that big Weird Sisters concert last night, doesn't mean she has to take it out on we the students. She still did not notice my unimportant presence within the realms of her most wondrous wing, but, like I've said, I didn't mind much. I watched Harry and Hermione eating their chocolate, not that they needed at this point. They would just get hyper and be up all night. Wouldn't that be fun? "PARTAY IN THE HOSPITAL WING!" And Madame P. could guest star! Madame P…. Nice name for her. Spiffy, no?

Anyhoo, Harry and Herms kept eating their rich, sugary delicacies, and shooting glances at Ronald and me. After several minutes of this uneventful silence, we heard this utter howl come from someplace above us. No, it wasn't a howl; it was more of a bellowing roar. My first thought was that somebody had let an enraged, psycho moose into the castle, and my mind sped through a list of reasons as to why somebody would let a moose run rampant in Hogwarts. I then wondered why a goose in plural is geese and why multiple moose shouldn't be meese.

Then I remembered that we had just sent Sirius Orion Black away to freedom, on the back of a gallant steed, and that was going to seriously piss someone off. Sirius… Siriusly…. Hahahahaha. I actually laughed aloud, and Harry and Hermie shot me a look. Madame Pomfrey on the other hand, just stared above and asked, "What was that?"

I was quite tempted to tell her of the evil rampaging meese. The noise of the seriously pissed off people- or meese- was growling louder, and venturing closer to the door of the hospital wing.

"Really- they'll wake everybody up! What do they think they're doing?"

If I hadn't felt like keeping quiet as to avoid attracting any attention to my still throbbing and bleeding leg, I would have informed her that these were Moose-Men, and could therefore not prevent themselves from randomly bellowing sometimes. The Meese seemed to be coming closer, because we could actually make out coherent words, which were probably issuing from Moose Fudge.

"He must have Dissapparated, Severus. We should have left somebody in the room with him. When this gets out-"

"HE DIDN'T DISAPPARATE!" Moose Snape roared, his voice seemingly getting closer. I decided that perhaps he wasn't a moose, but some sort of… heliopath… no, Severus Snape was a banshee, nothing more nothing less… wait- yes, something more…. A super magnified banshee! "The Banshee With the Voice of a Thousand Fingernails Raking Ruthlessly Across a Blackboard" at that! I dismissed that particular description, however, because it mostly sounded as though I was describing myself.

"YOU CAN'T APPARATE OR DISAPPARATE INSIDE THIS CASTLE! THIS-HAS-SOMETHING-TO-DO-WITH-POTTER!"

"Severus- be reasonable- Harry has been locked up-"

BAM!

As the door burst open, that magic I had been feeling- you know, like a Calming Draught- returned, but slightly stronger. Harry was watching the door fixedly, but Hermione glanced my way briefly, and saw me staring at the wall, rigid and shaking. I tried to keep my mind on the yelling, and the figures who were now intruding into the wing. The feeling was making me feel slightly lightheaded and dizzy. To put it bluntly, I felt kinda drunk. But not in a good way. More of an "Oh, Boggart, I Seem To Have Been Bitten By A Werewolf Who Is Going To Feel Insanely Guilty For Cursing Me In The Morning Even Though It Wasn't His Fault, And Anyway, The Curse Is Making Me Feel Drunk, Not In A Good Way, But In The Kind of "Oh, Boggart, I Seem…."" way.

That statement was rather pointless, I suppose, but you at least have a generalized idea of how I was feeling physically. Oddly, I was mentally fine, though my peers and mentors might disagree with me on that point. But, see, I wasn't freaked out that I was a werewolf. I really wasn't in any position to feel anything about it until the first full moon or something. I didn't mind it though. It made me feel… whole…. and drunk, but you knew that already.

Hermione looked at me, concerned. Before I could acknowledge her look, or feel immense gratitude that somebody other than my father actually cared about me, both of us found our attention captured by Snape and his deranged antics of an angered banshee.

"OUT WITH IT POTTER! WHAT DID YOU DO?"

Now, I am well aware that I should have remained silent, but his yell made my head start to throb, and at that second, my ears began to sting. I wasn't sure why, so I reached up and touched the radish earrings which hung from my ears with a silver base. And then my hands began to sting. I hurriedly pulled the earrings from my ears and stuck my fingers in my mouth, sucking on them, and massaging my ears, which felt almost worse than my leg (odd, no?) with my other hand. What had happened? Surely…. Oh, dear… Oh, dear… I was allergic to silver. Because of the werewolf thing.

Everybody stared at me- Snape, Fudge, Dumbledore, Harry and Herms, and Madame P. I wasn't about to tell them why my ears felt like burning irons, though by her look, and the way her hands flew to her mouth, Hermione guessed.

"And what are you doing here?" Fudge asked, as though I wasn't allowed to be here.

"I injured my arm, and then I injured my leg, Moo- Minister." I said, catching myself. And hey, I wasn't lying.

Snape looked furious that I was interrupting his serenade of eternal hatred for Sirius Black and Harry Potter. Or maybe he was just furious. When life makes you a banshee moose man, it might be hard to crack a smile.

Since they had finally decided to notice me, I figured I would add to this most lovely scenario.

"Harry and Hermione have been here since before I came in, so they couldn't have done anything, Professor." Feigning ignorance, I asked "Sirius Black escaped!", adopting a horrified and appalled expression.

None of them answered me, and Fudge cast a disdainful look at my leg, which was thankfully hidden beneath the sheets.

"What happened to your leg?"

"I got bit."

"What by?"

Under no circumstances was I going to say "Oh, a werewolf- my favorite professor by the way." To the bigoted, goblin-eating, jerk that was the Moose of Magic. Suddenly, I received inspiration from something that Harry and Hermione had told me earlier.

"Some big black dog, sir. I sort of snuck out to Hagrid's to see if he had any pumpkins in the patch- I wanted to steal one, but this great, huge black dog that looked like death itself leapt on me and bit me in the leg before I could ward him off."

This seemed logical as anything. And this way, were they ever to catch wind of Sirius Black's Animagus shape, they would think that he had mauled me. Then again, in actuality, I wasn't mauled- what is the definition of MAUL anyway? Wait, who really cared. The only things mauled were my ears, and that was only because I had lacked the foresight to wake up this morning and consider the possibility that I could get hurtled back in time and become a werewolf during the course of the day. So, that was my fault, but if Sirius Black wanted the credit for causing the stinging ears, then he could have it; I wasn't going to copyright it as my doing and mine alone. I'd be glad to share.

Professor McGonagall once told me that if I spent as much time deeply considering the existence of my homework, then I would be achieving a higher grade in her class.

She got mad at me because I replied, quite honestly, that I often pondered the existence of my homework, and yet still could not find the purpose for it.

She had not been amused.

Back to my most wondrous and beautiful story, right? Snape-The-Banshee cast a kind of unreadable glance in my direction, glanced at my blistering hand, my probably blistering ears, and the jewelry, which glared threateningly at me from the nightstand, and gave a sort of nasty grin. And I do mean nasty. If looks could kill, then I would have been lying in a hospital wing, looking like an animal mauled me. Hmm, funny thing…

"It was Potter." He said curtly, and strode from the hospital wing, giving off an aura of pure malice.

"Fellow seems quite unbalance. I'd watch out for him if I were you, Dumbledore.

"Oh, he's not unbalanced. He's just suffered a severe disappointment." Said our glorious headmaster quietly.

I sort of tuned out the rest of the conversation; the waves of magic had returned. I began to sweat, and twitch violently. I wasn't going to transform- not tonight. Something told me that. But it felt as though I was. The hair on my arms seemed bigger, and everything everyone said seemed ten times louder, like I was standing next to a loud spoken person with the Sonorous spell on them.

Suddenly, I felt a hand on my shoulder. It brought me back. A potion of sorts was poured down my throat, and the world slowly stopped spinning, and the fired-up feeling that had overtaken me had stopped.

I looked around. Harry and Herms were beside my bed now, heedless of whatever Madame Pomfrey might have said. Professor Dumbledore had his hand on my shoulder, and removed it only when I looked around. Madame Pomfrey laid a hand upon my forehead, taking my temperature.

"Miss Lovegood, could you please explain what just happened?" Professor Dumbledore asked.

I didn't want to tell him. Professor Lupin would get in trouble. I would quite possibly get in trouble too, I thought.

Harry prodded me gently in the shoulder.

"You can tell him, Luna."

I stared at him for a moment; he was giving me a really funny look and I couldn't figure out why. Before I could ask, Hermione answered.

"Your eyes are… err…. yellow." She said. I gave a sort of deranged smile. "That's awesome!"

Harry and Hermione settled for giving me funny looks, while Dumbledore repeated his question: "Miss Lovegood…?"

I sighed deeply. Oh, how I wanted to go outside, into the forest, and run. Run and bite and claw. WHAT THE DEUCE AM I THINKING?

"Well… It's rather complicated, but I sort of got myself bit by Professor Lupin."

Madame Pomfrey gasped and squeezed my shoulder tightly.

"But it really wasn't Lupin's fault, and if anybody ever finds out and asks me how it happened, I'll tell them it was a feral!"

Dumbledore looked grim. That ever-persistent twinkle in his eyes was still there, but thoroughly diminished, like a candle under a snuffer. I like snuffers. I once got one for my birthday, and I spent a month just walking around with it in my belt, pretending to be part of some super-secret branch of the Ministry that exists solely to snuff candles. I only ever stopped when some whacky old lady called me a fraud and a dirty liar, and said that I was no better than the bitch that whelped me.

If I remember correctly, this was my first case of accidental magic, and the time when we found out that I did, indeed, carry magical blood. Because shortly thereafter the aforementioned woman suddenly lost the ability to speak, and turned a rather alarming shade of purple or magenta, depending on how you looked at her.

I still have the picture hanging in my dormitory, right next to the autographed picture of the American president- Elvis Presley.

But you wanted to know about Dumbledore, didn't you?

"Miss Lovegood," he said. "We are going to give you a sleeping potion now, lest you repeat that last episode again. We will speak of this in the morning, when Professor Lupin is present."

I visibly gulped, and that was before I had gulped the potion and fallen asleep.

Apparently, I gulp just like a fish, and twice as often.

THE NOTES IF THE AUTHOR:
Ah, there's another chapter through with. I had to do this chapter- I didn't really want to, but something tells me that it would have looked freakishly stupid to just say "Sirius escaped and Dumbledore drugged me. And the dude who escaped has the middle name Orion. Thus he is an SOB. But anyway, this was just like, a nescessary chapter, and I've got some sawwweeeet plans for the future. Thanks for reading, I love my 7 reviews very much, and if I met the reviewers, I would hug them soooo much that they would pass out. Speaking of which, reviewers, I'll write you all lil' notes in the next chapter declaring how much I love you. Reviews are inspirational! AND I AM RAMBLING!