Tamsyn
I think you overestimate how many better things I have to do with my time. I normally write these before going to bed or when I'm supposed to be in history class, there isn't much else I would do with that time if I don't have homework left, so don't be too flattered I'm using it to write to you. And honestly, you always talk like you're an old lady or something, you're not that much older than me.
Oh, communalism is a lot like communism, I never would have guessed. And you say that like I have any fucking clue what communism is anyway. I mean, I heard shite about the Soviets or whatever when I was kid, and I know my uncle hated them (sterling recommendation right there), but that's really it.
Fuck, Tamsyn, I really didn't need a whole history lesson. All that shite about Grindelwald and the Revolution and whatever was interesting, I guess, but it was far more than necessary to answer the question. Grindelwald fucked up the nobility and wasn't a crazy racist, that's literally all I needed to know.
Except that bit about Grindelwald and Dumbledore — is that really true, that they were a thing? I've never heard anything about that before, that's fucking wild.
By saying people will make assumptions about my politics because of Dumbledore, you mean that I'm against Grindelwald's stuff? What does that mean, exactly? Because from what little you told me about these communalist people, I'm pretty sure I'm actually not.
You realise, of course, that I don't know what "leftist" means either, so saying Common Fate is the closest thing the Wizengamot has to leftists is also meaningless to me.
Yes, I know subsuming a whole language all at once is a big step. I'm practising with Severus.
Miskatonic isn't on my list — Severus claims the ICW have sanctioned them, and don't recognise qualifications from them as legitimate, so it wasn't on the list of accredited schools I was looking at. People around here talk about Miskatonic like it's even more evil than Durmstrang, it's actually kind of comical how over the top some of my pureblood friends were about it when I asked. I assume that's shite too.
Yeah, I think Durmstrang is at the top of my list, for various reasons. It's still a ways away though, so we'll see how it all goes.
It's very annoying that the British standard is different from the one on the continent. I ordered a booklet with information about the exams from the main ICW offices, in bloody Switzerland, no point in ordering the ones for specific exams until I know what the fuck I'm doing. Looking into other subjects probably isn't a good idea, though, since I have a lot of subjects to work with already, adding new shite just seems like too much work.
Fucking hell, that's quite a name that school has. How are you even supposed to say that? Out of curiosity, I looked it up in the ICW encyclopaedia, and it is recognised by the authorities here, but I'm not really interested in going all the way to America for school, so it was never on my list. It does sound pretty neat over there, though.
And honestly I completely forgot that the natives are still around on the magical side. Makes sense, when I think about it, since the Statute happened so early into colonisation, I guess I just never did think about it. I don't know a fucking thing about the magical Americas, I should probably read up on that at some point. Bloody useless history class hasn't even gotten up to the Statute yet...
Okay, alchemy sounds pretty fucking cool, way better than transfiguration. Why the hell don't they teach that stuff here? Though of course the best kinds are illegal — this is Britain, we're not allowed to do the fun magic here.
If it makes you feel better, Severus has no idea how he did the thing with the grass either.
Yes, obviously I'm not going to just experiment with sticking jewellery I enchanted myself into my body, I'm not a complete fucking idiot, Tamsyn. It didn't occur to me immediately that I could have Severus check my work for me first, but that makes sense, he is a healer. I guess it still hasn't quite 100% sunk in that I have someone I can actually go to for this shite — and he's even my guardian and everything, so it's kind of like his job. Still weird, not used to it.
Severus actually hugged me over winter break, which if you knew Severus you'd know how bloody weird that is. I mean, I was kind of crying (long story), so it's not actually that weird when I think about it, but it seemed really fucking weird at the time. And I don't know why I decided to write about this, but I don't want to start the letter over, and there's no way I can clean all this ink out, so fuck it.
Honestly, I don't really get why people are so weird about sex either. It still seems just kind of gross to me, but there's no reason to be so embarrassed about it or whatever, practically everyone does it — they think about it often enough it'd be hard to miss. I was less trying to say you were creeping me out by giving me masturbation advice, and more just pointing out the fact that it's a weird thing to do. By normal person standards, I mean.
Yes, so much more experience and wisdom you have, being only a few years older than me. (The ones you spent trapped in a book don't count.) Definitely not just another teenager, definitely an old person, which definitely doesn't make talking at me about sex even weirder. Still creepy, Tamsyn.
Yes, I did in fact completely forget that thirteen is the age of majority in magical Britain, thank you Tamsyn. Or well, I knew that, but I didn't realise it applied to this sort of thing too. That's bloody weird.
Not that I'm saying I'm definitely going to check out magic sex shops or whatever, that still seems kind of pointless, but yeah, good to know.
Like, if the age is thirteen, does that mean it's perfectly okay for adults to go around fucking kids my age? It's occurring to me just now that I never really asked anyone about this stuff.
Very vain, Tamsyn. I mean, you are definitely pretty — though I don't think I ever admitted to staring at your arse in that flying memory, but Andy definitely was, don't know if you would have noticed that while focusing on the ritual thing. I think there's a word for people who like showing off to other people, but I don't know what it is.
Anyway, still creepy, Tamsyn.
That charm is handy (ha), and you can get off inside a pensieve. Your academic curiosity is satisfied, so we can stop talking about this now.
That you fucked up in practically the same exact way I did isn't actually reassuring. Or, after thinking about it more, I guess it kind of is, since you did manage to get it to work with Andy after that anyway, so.
You act all smooth and confident and everything, but you're just as fucked up as I am, aren't you? That whole bit about why you flipped out with Andy — and yeah, you're right, that does sound unnervingly plausible — only makes it more obvious.
When I say "Liz is broken," that right there is literally all I mean by it — that shite happened when I was growing up that permanently fucked up my brain for reasons I don't entirely understand (bodies are weird and complicated) that makes me not get a lot of normal person things, and it's not something that can be fixed, it's just the way I am now. I think you and Severus keep attaching some kind of value judgement or whatever to it, and I really don't mean it that way. It's just a statement of fact.
And also, usually when I say "Liz is broken," I'm not even referring to the parts of it that actually bother me. You know, PTSD stuff, that's related, obviously, but usually I'm not referring to that stuff. If I'm feeling particularly miserable and everything is terrible and I'm just tired of it, maybe, but not most of the time. It's mostly just the "normal people are confusing, I can barely even pretend to play along on a good day" part.
Anyway, I got to the end of your letter, so I'm going to talk about something else now. I got the dream walking thing to work, and fucking hell, that was intense. I guess I should probably expect getting high out of my mind and doing weird time-travel seer shite to be weird, but still, it was kind of more than I even expected. Really trippy, like everything looked all sharp and too-colourful, but also kept smearing around at the same time, and the sound was fucked up, and there was all this... Shite, I don't know, it was a hell of a thing.
And I tried copying the memory of it and putting it in the pensieve, and it fucking worked! And it didn't come out like what I saw, with all the trippy shite intact, but the real thing, what actually happened! Which is just so fucking cool, I don't know how to say it, being a seer can be annoying sometimes, but other times it's just the coolest thing ever, I love magic.
The included phial is a copy of just the ritual to raise the wards. Obviously nobody is speaking English, but their thoughts are perfectly clear, because apparently language barriers don't exist for mind magic. (Makes sense, just never read the mind of anyone who doesn't know any English before.) Since the trippy shite isn't in there, Slytherin is the one conducting the ritual, and Ravenclaw is the one with the knife. Gryffindor is in there too, but it's kind of hard to pick him out of all the red-heads.
I'm not sure what language the litany is in. It's definitely not Cambrian, but I don't think it's Latin either? I'm just starting Latin, so I could be wrong, but some of the endings are recognisable, and I don't think so. You can clearly see all the runes — they're in a mix of Bablylonian and Egyptian, which of course I can't read, and even some Greek, which is bloody weird, I didn't think anybody used Greek for enchanting. I guess I just have to save my own copy of the memory until I've gotten a few more years of runes class.
I'm sure you can get more out of it at the moment than I can. Have fun, you bloody nerd.
After I came back, though, something really fucking weird happened. This sounds slightly insane, but considering the ritual that went into the wards, I'm not really sure it is — obviously, their souls weren't destroyed, they're still there, just smooshed together and not really human anymore.
The thing is, I think the castle is alive? Like, conscious, that it's self-aware to some degree. I think using the wards as a focus for my dream walking thing kind of nudged the castle somehow, and it noticed I was there, and how the memory ended kind of freaked me out, and the side effects from the dream walking potion kind of suck, and, I think it was worried about me? It combed through my head and checked my body and everything before just giving me a weird warm mental hug thing and going away again. It was seriously terrifying — the thing was huge, I couldn't even see all of it, its thoughts just too big and loud for me to understand even a little bit, and I couldn't do a fucking thing about it but lay there and wait for it to end — but it was also just the strangest experience of my entire life. Because a fucking castle read my mind, seriously, what the fuck.
And, this is going to sound even weirder, but I think there's something wrong with it? I don't know. I didn't notice this at the time, but when I was going over what happened in my pensieve, it just felt off. I'm not sure how, like, you know if a radio isn't tuned properly, you'll get a little crackle on people's voices? It was kind of like that, the magic of the absurdly huge mind kind of jumping a little and, I don't know, I think there's something wrong with it. Can a castle even be ill?
I've been vaguely worried about it ever since I noticed — given how powerful the wards at Hogwarts are, if something goes terribly wrong it probably wouldn't be safe to be living here when it happens. But I have no idea what's wrong, or even for certain if something is wrong at all, so I have no fucking clue what to do about it.
Anyway, yeah, dream walking success, * hooray * Enjoy the memory, I'm going now.
Elizabeth
፠
Daphne
I know it's a little silly to be writing you a letter when we literally live across the hall from each other. But I'm not sure I'll be able to get through this conversation in person, so, bear with me. There's going to be some really private stuff in here, because I think it'll be easier to explain if you know. You haven't told anyone about what happened, as far as I can tell, so I trust you to keep this to yourself too, but if you opened this at breakfast maybe put it away and read it alone later, please.
Everyone knows by now that my relatives were terrible, what with the Prophet reporting on the hearing coming up like nosey bastards, and I know some people have made some assumptions that actually aren't that far off. But I know you've known for longer. I know you've seen the marks on my back, as early as late in first year — I didn't notice you noticing, I still don't know how you found out, but I've caught you remembering them before. And I know you guessed how they got there, probably because of Tracey.
For as long as I can remember, my relatives had been keeping me in a cupboard tucked under the stairs, near the front door, the sort of place you would stick boots or jackets or whatever. There was a tiny little bed in there, an old beat up set of drawers, between the two taking up practically all of the floor space, and that was my room as a kid, from when I was too young to remember until I was nine or so. It didn't used to be so bad, until I started doing better than my cousin in school, and my uncle took away a lot of my books and pastels and stuff — I vaguely remember I used to draw a lot, but I honestly don't even know how anymore — and put a lock on the outside of the door. I would be locked up in there as a punishment, or sometimes just when they wanted me out of the way for a few hours, which was honestly more boring than anything. He'd taken my books away, so I didn't have anything to do in there, and sometimes I wouldn't get meals, and that would suck, but it was mostly just really boring.
Until I did better than my cousin on a maths test, and when we got home he accused me of cheating off of him. Which doesn't make any fucking sense, if I was cheating off of him we'd have the same score, it's been years and that still bothers me. Anyway, that was when things started getting really bad. I started doing badly in school on purpose because of that, if you noticed my marks in first year were pretty bad that's why. Severus noticed and basically bribed me with neat magic books to stop, but yeah.
It was a belt, by the way. In case you were wondering where the marks came from.
It went on for a while, I'm not even sure how long exactly. About a year and a half? Just, whenever my uncle had an excuse, and sometimes for no reason I could think of at all, like all the time. Once a week maybe, I don't remember. It got worse and worse, not even that but also not feeding me properly and everything, and it got pretty bad, it was hard even making it through day to day.
That's why my mind magic kicked in. Normally it doesn't activate until well into puberty, but sometimes it'll come early if the kid needs to protect themself. And I made him stop, and give me the guest bedroom — yes, they had a spare bedroom the entire time but were keeping me in a cupboard anyway, I know — but that didn't mean it was over. Obviously he wasn't happy about it, and for a while he kept trying to get the upper hand again, until I'd slapped him down hard enough times for him to get the message that he couldn't do anything about it.
Maybe how I dealt with some of the other Slytherins hexing me and stuff back in first year will make sense now. I'm aware that the only ways I know how to deal with problems is to ignore them or try to scare them off by escalating big, this with my uncle is where that comes from. I still haven't gotten any better about it, as me not being able to talk to you practically at all lately should have proven again, so I guess Ronald Weasley should feel lucky I haven't put a snake in his bed yet.
And it also means my mind magic is on a hair trigger, I just strike out at anything threatening me without really thinking about it. This has caused problems before, because if the person has good enough occlumency, throwing all I can into it means I'll be completely helpless for a few seconds as my mind recharges or whatever. (Mind magic is weird and complicated, don't ask me.) Also, it's why the dementor on the train messed me up so badly: my first instinct was to compel it to leave me alone, and as you might guess, mind magic and soul-eating demons don't mix.
And it's also why I pick things up from people all the time, a habit I got into from keeping an eye on my relatives that's just ingrained by now. I can't really do occlumency at all, but occlumency is more than just stopping other people from getting in — for a mind mage, it also stops yourself from getting out. And I'm completely terrible at that. Looking at myself in my pensieve, my mind is almost painfully loud, and I can try to pull it closer in, make myself smaller, but it takes continuous, conscious effort, and it's really exhausting, so I mostly don't bother. (And if I pull myself in too far I end up completely losing track of my surroundings — and, say, getting hit with a bludger I didn't notice was there, and breaking half of the bones in my body flying into a goal post like an idiot.) Most of the time I don't look on purpose, but with my mind spread out in a big cloud around me, I just pick up things without meaning to.
That's what happened that day, at the Gate. I was kind of leaving myself open on purpose, trying to feel out the magic in there, but since you were sitting right next to me, it was really easy to accidentally see things. I wasn't reading your mind on purpose, but I saw you imagining kissing me anyway. And it was really vivid, for a second it almost felt like it was really happening.
And I completely lost it. I honestly don't know why, the things my fucked up brain does often don't make sense to me either. I was just suddenly frightened and confused, and like I usually do when I'm scared, I tried to use mind magic to make the problem go away. The problem being the confusion, which is why the asking questions and compelling you to answer. That stupid part in my head that's always looking out for my uncle was convinced I was in danger for some reason, and I really did think you were lying to me and you were trying to trick me somehow, while at the same time realising that was completely irrational and obviously ridiculous — I could feel you weren't lying, and the way you worded things wasn't leaving a lot of ambiguity to get around it, but you can't logic your way out of crazy, so.
In retrospect, I know you probably didn't mean any more by it than you did than back on my birthday, when Susan asked and hey, sure, why not — yeah, I know about that, I picked it up from Susan's head on accident before we even got ice cream, sorry — but I just wasn't thinking at the time. I can be really stupid like that.
I'm not trying to make excuses with this overly long ramble, I'm just trying to make clear what was going on, why I reacted as I did. It didn't occur to me until just a couple days ago you might think I freaked out because gay, but it really was just Liz is broken stuff. Actually, I'm mostly sure I like girls anyway (I'm not telling people that yet either, by the way) my freaking out had nothing to do with that. I wasn't offended or whatever, just confused and scared and I don't even know, you get what I mean.
I am sorry, really. That's the point I'm trying to get at in this letter that's gone on way too long at this point, holy crap. I can't help picking up things sometimes, and while I normally don't try too hard to avoid seeing things I also don't just go snooping around, and I definitely don't fuck around with people's heads. It's not something I ever would have done if I were thinking straight, and I've felt awful about it since the moment I calmed down that day, I really am sorry.
This isn't coming out right, I'm so bad at this. This has got to be the fifth version of this letter I've done, and they're getting longer every time, and I still suck at it. I don't think I've ever apologised for something before, at least not for something serious when I actually meant it. Maybe to my aunt and uncle when I was a little kid, but other than that. I have no idea what I'm doing.
But I do really hate this, it's why I've been even more awkward than normal since we got back to school, because I don't know what to say, and I'm worried you hate me now, despite being able to feel when you're around that you probably don't (but you can't logic your way out of crazy) and I am sorry, really. I just want to go back to before I fucked up like a neurotic mess, but unfortunately I can't actually undo it. I'll understand if you don't want me around anymore — Tracey didn't talk to me at all for like nine months for similar reasons — but if there's something I can do to make it up to you, say so and I will. Pretty much whatever it is, I have no shame, we all know this about me.
I feel like there should be something more to say, but this already went on way too long, and I can't think of anything, so. Even if you do hate me now, please don't tell people about some of the things I said in here. People already gossip about me too much, the shite people would come up with if they knew all this would suck.
I'm sorry,
Elizabeth
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fy nǵyfeiłes annwyl —
I suspect this letter is going to go quite long as well, and as I don't wish to leave you in suspense, I will make this clear straight away. I was never angry with you over what happened that day, Liz. I could see you were distressed, and while I don't enjoy having my mind fiddled with by any means, I was more concerned for you than offended.
And I don't hate you, of course not. That you have been avoiding me ever since we returned to school has given me the impression that you were no longer comfortable with my company. Perhaps I should have realised what was happening and done something about it, but I oughtn't press myself on you should you wish to be left alone.
My upbringing being so different from that of our peers sometimes causes me to interpret things in unanticipated ways, if perhaps not so noticeably as yourself. If I believed I was owed an apology from you, I would have said so long ago — we don't allow such things to fester at the Greenwood. I simply didn't realise you were so struggling with guilt for it. Had I known I would have put your mind at ease sooner, and for that I apologise.
We were raised into very different cultures, and it is inevitable that there will sometimes be misunderstandings between us. If you wish to do anything to make this right with me, I suggest we both commit to being open with each other when we are troubled by something, through letters instead of in person if necessary to get through difficult topics. I won't ask for you to promise not to fiddle with my mind, because I already trust you not to without such a promise.
I'm not angry with you, Liz, truly, I never was. But if you feel you need my forgiveness regardless, know that you have it.
As to the body of your letter, my, I hardly know what I'm to say. I would expect — from my experience with Tracey, as you might guess — that you don't want my pity, but when presented with such a thing there is little else that comes to mind. I know how difficult it must have been for you to put that to paper, and I regret that you feel it was necessary — again, I should have said something sooner. As distressing as it was for me to read for my part (though not to the same degree, of course not), it does help place things I've noticed over the years we've known each other into a more cohesive picture. I do feel I understand you better now, if only by a little bit. If you feel that is worth at least some of the effort you expended to write it, so much the better.
I saw the marks on your back in October our first year, by chance. It was during one of our flying lessons, after Madam Hooch had made clear that we needn't bother wearing our uniforms. On that day, you were wearing soft trousers and a blouse under your cloak — while we were flying around, the wind caught your blouse, and I was close enough to see. As you guessed, I was reminded of Tracey, and made a guess I never got confirmation was sadly correct until receiving your letter just today.
In the interest of cultivating open honesty between us, I did tell Professor Snape about it as soon as I had the opportunity. I was concerned, but I suspected you would have reacted badly if I approached you about it — we were hardly more than acquaintances at the time, after all. I didn't know what else to do. As discreet as he is, I doubt he told you, but I feel it's only right you know.
Speaking of Professor Snape and Tracey and yourself, I am aware you had something to do with Tracey going to him for help, and that she avoided you for months afterward — though she does treasure your friendship now, the turnabout was quite baffling to watch from the outside. She told me that much, but I haven't any idea what happened. Now that I know you are a mind mage and that you know of the scars on her back, I can make a guess. I suppose I shouldn't thank you for compelling her to go to Professor Snape for help, but watching the change that has come over her this last year, I can't summon any feeling other than gratitude. Thank you, Liz, truly.
It took me a moment to realise what you meant by "gay" — that is muggle slang, I honestly never once heard it before second year. (I find I quite dislike it, but there is naught to do about that.) Neither had it occurred to me that that might be the cause of your distress. Muggle culture tends to be far more judgemental of personal behaviours seen to be deviant, doubly so sexual ones, and mainline mages even more than Mistwalkers. This is not something that troubles my people in the slightest, with such surety that distaste for love between people of the same sex could even be possible is not something I was aware of before growing more familiar with other children of the nobility, in the year or two before starting at Hogwarts. I never thought for a second that that was what troubled you.
Though I had very little idea what the cause of your distress was. I assumed, from what little I knew of it, that it had something to do with your childhood, though I could guess no further than that. The thought had occurred to me that you found the thought of kissing me in particular offensive, but it's not something I seriously considered. Honestly I still don't understand why that you may love women is something worthy of keeping secret, but I will do as you wish regardless.
I imagine if our classmates knew, the news would surely find its way into the Prophet before long, and I admit that does sound unpleasant. They truly do seem unreasonably incapable of leaving you well enough alone.
I feel there is something else I must make clear, especially if you are going to be reading my mind in future. Oh, it doesn't trouble me if you do so! We have different ideas about property and privacy in the Greenwood, as you now know, and I have nothing in particular I wish to hide from you. So long as you are not altering anything you find in there, you are free to look at whatever you like. That doesn't bother me in the slightest.
But you may find thoughts and feelings there it seems you are unaware of. Those thoughts you caught from me that day are not out of the same place as what happened with Susan. You judge what happened there correctly. We are friends, and have been for some time — the Boneses visit Mistwalker communes with some regularity — and my people have different ideas of what is appropriate between friends. She asked, and I see no reason I shouldn't share a kiss now and then with a friend if they wish. But there is nothing more than friendship between us. Susan is going with Hannah now, you likely noticed.
As I told you when you asked that day, I do enjoy your company. How so was not something I was truly aware of before you prompted me to think on it. What I feel for you is more than simple friendship, that I know now.
I assure you, I don't mean to do anything about it. I am very much aware that you won't be open to anything more than simple friendship at this time, or possibly ever, and that is well with me. The only reason I am mentioning it now is because I don't want you to be startled by anything you may or may not see in my mind, and to make it clear ahead of time that they are only thoughts. I would never attempt to manipulate you into anything against your will — in fact, my people would consider doing such a thing to be not only morally despicable, but also impious — and I have no intention of trying to push for anything further. They are simply thoughts, and sometimes it's impossible to control those.
If knowing that makes you uncomfortable in my company, I won't be offended if you wish to continue avoiding me. Saddened, yes, but I will understand.
cyda ćyfeiłgarwć ac elusen,
Daphne
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Daphne
Was that "my dear friend"? Is that something people normally open letters with in Cambrian?
Anyway, now I feel like an idiot. I'm a bloody mind mage, but I'm still completely terrible at figuring out what's going on with people, that shouldn't even be possible. I've been worrying about this for weeks and it was completely pointless, because of course.
Yes, I promise I'll tell you when things are bothering me. Or I'll try to anyway, it's not impossible I might just forget. And I'll probably always have to do it through letters, I'm really not good at dealing with feelings shite, I'll just fuck it up in person.
It did suck writing that, yeah — there are things in there I haven't even told Severus about yet — but I thought it was necessary. (Again, idiot.) If you got something out of it, that'll have to do, I guess. Normal people tend to misunderstand me as badly as I misunderstand them, so if there's at least one person around who gets it at least sometimes, I guess that's something.
For fucks sake, of course it was an accident when I was wearing trousers, bloody things. Remind me to only ever wear dresses forever.
And no, Severus never told me you told him. I've never actually talked with him about them before, only kind of dancing around it, and obviously he would have seen them when I was in hospital. So it wouldn't have occurred to me to wonder how he knew about it, I mean. And maybe I would be annoyed with you for blabbing, but he would have found out anyway the first time I ended up getting myself hospitalised like an idiot, and also it's only Severus, so it's fine.
Yeah, I compelled Tracey to go to Severus. One of the days we were held late in herbology, we went to the bathroom to clean up, and her vest rode up when she was taking off her robes and I saw her scars in the mirror. She was absolutely convinced her grandfather was going to make sure she was dead before her fifteenth birthday, and I didn't know what the fuck to do about that, so I just brought her to Severus. Funnily enough, he said something pretty similar about it — he took five points from Slytherin, for using mind magic on a classmate, and then gave thirty on my way out the door. Pretty clear Snape-speak for "I can't openly approve of how you did it, but good job."
Yeah, I've realised by now that mages are different about sex stuff. Why don't you like "gay"?
How far does letting me read your mind go, exactly? Because if that's just an open invitation for whatever, I'm definitely going to end up exploiting that. Not to mess with things, obviously, just looking around I mean.
I don't really know what to say to that stuff at the end. I find it kind of hard to believe, honestly. Not that I think you're lying, exactly, but I don't know, and that's the thing, that I don't know. Why, that is, I mean, I'm me, and you're you, and I don't get it. I'm not saying this right. But I guess I don't know what I'm saying, so maybe there is no right way to say it. I just can't, I guess.
You're spot on that that's just not something that's going to happen. Maybe if things were different I woulɖ It's just not possible, and I have no idea when or if ever. That's just the way it is, unfortunately.
If you're having especially squishy thoughts when I'm around, that is going to make me uncomfortable, but I'll try not to freak out again. Now that I know what's going on, I don't think that's super likely anymore, but I can't rule out the possibility of my fucked up abused kid brain having another crazy moment, and you can't logic your way out of crazy, so, yeah.
Please don't respond to this part, I don't want to talk about it.
More Cambrian at the bottom, that's "with brotherhood and mercy"? I think? Is that a common British thing, or a Mistwalker thing? It sounds more like a Mistwalker thing. Also, is that just a different way of spelling things I've never seen before? Because I'm pretty sure it should be "nghyfeilles" and "gyda chyfeillgarwch." But you're the native speaker, so.
I'm still working up to talking to you again, give me another day or two.
Elizabeth
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fy nǵyfeiłes hyfryd —
I imagine you're mostly only studying formal speech in Cambrian class, so I'm not surprised you haven't seen these things before. "Fy nǵyfeiłes annwyl" is a perfectly ordinary salutation in a letter between friends, the equivalent of "Dear Liz" in English. You can use any adjective you want, but "annwyl" is most common — "hyfryd" is a little softer. A typical valediction in Cambrian would be "yn gywir" or "yn f-yðlon" ; my use of "cyda ćyfeiłgarwć ac elusen" — with fellowship and charity — is very much a Mistwalker thing.
People often don't use perfectly proper spelling in informal situations, like letters, in large part just to save a second here and there. (Also, we're not limited by the same concerns of efficiency for printing presses that guided how things came to be spelled.) Marking letters instead of adding an h or putting a dash in place of a repeated letter as in "f-yðlon" is quite common. It's not always the same, but it's usually not difficult to figure out what people mean.
Looking back at what I wrote, you're more likely to see "đ" than "ð" — my father's native language uses "ð," I must have picked it up from there.
And I feel stupid for not saying something earlier myself. So I guess we're both idiots.
If I think something is troubling you that might need to be addressed, I'll bring it up myself, instead of leaving it up to you to remember — in a letter, to avoid putting you on the spot.
I think your determination to never wear trousers again is going to be stymied by the duelling team uniform. Now that I'm thinking on it, you might consider wearing a slip with a high hem under your clothes, at least long enough to go over your hips. If it's too long, it might uncomfortably bunch up a little, but I suppose you could take off the last couple inches if it becomes a problem. More simply, a sash of some kind low over your hips may also work to prevent your shirt from riding up. Something to consider.
Now that you say it, that Lord Davis might have wanted to be rid of Tracey before he was expected to arrange a marriage for her should have been obvious — the thought never occurred to me, I had no idea. I feel terrible now, though I suppose the problem has already been taken care of. Again, thank you, Liz, for doing for my oldest friend what I never managed myself.
There are implications in the muggle use of "gay" that bother me. I can't put my finger on what it is, I simply don't like it.
The invitation to read my mind was, in fact, an open invitation. I have nothing to hide, and I trust you not to exploit whatever secrets you might glean. I would especially ask you to respect the secrets of others, particularly Tracey's, but the faith I see between the two of you has already shown that I needn't worry about that.
In fact, I encourage you to look — especially when I'm having "squishy feelings," as you call them. Perhaps then you will find it easier to believe.
Tracey and I were going to meet Susan and Hannah for lunch in Hogsmeade on Sunday. You're welcome to come along if you like, but if not no matter.
cyda ćyfeiłgarwć ac elusen,
Daphne
፠
Elizabeth
You doubt the wisdom I've accumulated in the long decades of my existence? Kids these days, honestly, no respect for their elders.
I suspect I could go on about politics endlessly, if I allowed myself to waste the time and paper — I do find these subjects fascinating, have ever since I was a child. Instead, I'll point you to literature you can read as you like. I tracked down a communalist bookstore in France that conveniently sells English translations, I've attached an owl-order catalogue. The Bremen Prison Diaries by Grindelwald will answer your questions about his history with Dumbledore and first-generation communalism. On Republicanism by Comtois will best explain the second-generation communalism common on the Continent at present — Comtois was the first neocommunalist Premier of France a couple decades ago now, one of the leading figures of the movement's postwar revival.
Those are plenty thorough to start with. Neither of them are restricted in Britain, though it will cause a stir if you are seen with the Diaries, so I'd read that one in private.
On the muggle side, the left proper is solely communism and anarchism, and nothing else. Social democrats think they're leftists, but the only people who believe that are themselves, liberals, and fascists. (If someone insists to you that socdems are leftists, ask them how many bullets socdems must put into proper leftists before it's justified to say they are no longer allies.) Of the two, I'm personally more familiar with communism — there were plenty of reds around London when I was a child, but not many anarchists.
In the catalogue I sent, you'll find a muggle literature section, and toward the back are smaller works. In that section you will find Wage Labour and Capital and Value, Price, and Profit by Marx — Marxism is primarily a critique of and a response to capitalism, and these two pamphlets explain the very basics of how capitalism functions and Marx's criticisms of it. They were originally intended to be handed out to factory labourers in the 19th Century, so they're very readable, using simple language and plenty of metaphors and examples. Marx's other works are extremely technical, and not worth getting into unless you want to make an in-depth study of these topics. In the main section, Socialism: Utopian and Scientific by Marx's partner Engels is also a good, relatively short read explaining more of the basics.
If you wish to get deeper into it, Lenin's Imperialism, the Highest Stage of Capitalism is all but mandatory, and Luxemburg's Reform or Revolution? is a decent stepping stone. I highly recommend a newer book I only found recently, The Wretched of the Earth by Frantz Fanon, which luckily enough this particular bookstore happens to carry. It's not actually a new book, but it's new to me, as I was in the diary when it was published, but all the same. And I think that's enough to be getting on with for now.
Though keep in mind, I said Common Fate is the closest thing the Wizengamot has to leftists, not that they are truly leftists. There are a few families, associated with old religious communes, who can be said to be communalist in character, but the furthest the rest in Common Fate will go is tepid social democracy.
The reputation of Miskatonic in Europe is less a valid reflection of the true nature of the institution, and more one of historical enmity. It is true that they have much looser laws regulating academic research and experimentation as well as the use of magic in general, but it isn't truly that much more liberal than those of some nations in the East. The problem the ICW has with Miskatonic is down to who founded it, and why.
You may or may not know that the ICW (along with China) fought a major war to force Secrecy on the Americas. As the people here, quite reasonably, didn't wish to be separated from their fellows — especially given the invasions of muggle Europeans proceeding apace — the fighting was long, vicious, and brutal. This period is far too complicated for me to explain even in brief, if you wish to learn of it I would recommend you order Bagshot's Blood in the Water: American Resistance to the Statute of Secrecy — it's not perfect, as Bagshot clearly favours the European side in the conflict, but it's likely the best general overview you're likely to find in English.
During the war, the Americans were aided by anti-Statutarian exiles, mostly from Europe and the Near East — and increasingly as the war dragged on, bloody and horrifying, by battlemages and cursebreakers defecting from the very forces sent to force the Americans into compliance. The Old World nations were, in time, successful in forcing Americans to accept the Statute, but when occupation forces returned to their homes the defectors stayed behind. There are a few tiny communities that have retained a European character to this day — Salem is not included among them, as it is associated with English colonies already in the area by the time of the Statute — though most of the defectors mixed with the locals and were assimilated within a generation or two.
The Miskatonic Valley Cooperative was founded by some of these defectors. The war against the ICW and China had been so brutal that the American leadership feared the return of invaders to their shores; and so a group of defectors, battlemages and cursebreakers and healers, made an agreement with the Americans to form a university of Western magic — the purpose of which was to delve deep into Old World arts, to analyse all that the West was capable of, so they could best prepare their American allies to fight a potential second war. The University is a general educational institution, but to this day they continue to host the magical equivalent of a weapons research and development programme, dozens and dozens of American academics determined to stay one step ahead of their rivals across the pond. The regulation of magic is looser here than most other institutions precisely that they may leave no stone unturned, the better to permit as few gaps in the Americans' preparations as possible.
Whatever else might be said of the Americans, you can be certain of one thing: if the Old World ever dares to make war on them again, they will deeply regret it.
The Cooperative is an independent state, the entire Miskatonic Valley and the University itself managed by their own governing institutions, if a quite peculiar one. I've visited the Valley, a couple times now, and the entire country all seems to revolve around the University and its professors and students — rather like a muggle college town, in a way. The University attracts students and researchers from all over the globe, and so they've developed a complex international culture of their own, it's all quite fascinating.
As dedicated as the institution may be to its mission of opposing the ICW, the people there are no different than people anywhere else. The evil reputation of Miskatonic in Europe is quite exaggerated.
Of course, the dark reputation of Durmstrang in Britain is also exaggerated, seemingly based on nothing more than the fact that Grindelwald was educated there for a time — they seem to forget that Durmstrang expelled him.
Many American languages, though by no means all of them, tend to feature quite lengthy words, but they're not difficult to pronounce once you get the hang of it. Anishinābēmowin in particular has a regular rhythm to it, which makes it easier to keep up with. Every word can be broken up into metrical feet — an iamb, in fact, a weak syllable followed by a strong syllable, the feel of the language almost Shakespearean. Long vowels can break up the pattern a little, but those come through clearly enough they're hard to miss. It can sometimes look intimidating when written out, but actually listening to it its not difficult to follow along with the rhythm and pick out what's being said.
Honestly, I found it more difficult to become familiar with the language's grammar than its pronunciation — the languages over here are completely unrelated to anything familiar to Europeans, isolated for thousands upon thousands of years, so they tend to work by a very different sort of logic. But they aren't as difficult as they seem at first glance.
The Board claims there was so little interest in an alchemy elective, so it was discontinued for that reason, but my private suspicion is that they had less practical motivations. In Britain especially, alchemy has a reputation as a deep, obscure art, the sort of thing only wealthy people with a lot of free time on their hands to expend pouring over dusty old scrolls and fiddling about with idle experimentation ever develop skill in. There's a certain prestige around alchemy in Britain, one deeply associated with the culture of the nobility.
Shortly before Hogwarts cancelled alchemy classes, certain professional guilds associated with the practice of alchemy had just voted to allow muggleborns as full members. But I'm sure that's a coincidence.
Personally, if I had a resource like Severus Snape at my disposal, I would exploit it at every opportunity, but I realise I'm far more of a manipulative bitch than you are.
I think you could do with being less conscious of what normal people would think or do. They're baffling idiots, why should you care?
I may not be that much older than you, true, but given our respective ages there are certain life experiences I am far more versed in than you. Since I've actually had sex, you see — uncounted dozens of times, even.
Thirteen is the age of contract (a purchase is considered an informal contract in British law) not the age of consent — those are categorically not the same thing. In fact, magical British laws have no concept of consent as it concerns sex whatsoever. If a person is assaulted, the head of their family may petition the DLE to intervene, with or without the participation of the injured party. This means that, essentially, consent is given not by the victim, but the head of their family — it is they who decides whether something was acceptable or not, and they who initiate charges being brought. The DLE can investigate an incident independently, but they can't move to bring charges without the participation of the head of the victim's family. If the victim feels they are being denied justice, they can petition the Council of Family Law to press charges on their behalf, overruling their head of house, but the conditions that must be met in order for that to happen are quite narrow — essentially, only if the victim substantively proves that the present situation threatens their life.
This system is, as you might imagine, absolutely rife with horrid abuses. For one, it is possible for rape charges to be brought over perfectly consensual sex, simply because the head of one of the participants' families disapproves — the DLE is very unlikely to convict in those cases, but it does happen on occasion. Another obvious fault is that there is no such thing as an age of consent: so long as their head of house approves, the sexual abuse of children is perfectly legal. The Council of Family Law is empowered to intervene, but only in extreme cases where the child's life is threatened, and the victim must petition for intervention before they can even begin proceedings — as you might imagine, there are some practical difficulties that may prevent an abused child from doing so.
Magical Britain is a corrupt, aristocratic hellhole. This affects you personally less than it might, due to you being the sole member of your own noble family, but it's a terrible system for the vast majority of the country's citizens. There are reasons that dissatisfaction and unrest continue to simmer among the lower classes, out of sight of the nobility and those few privileged comfortable commoners. The country is primed for revolution, should only the right confluence of circumstances light the tinder.
Honestly, living primarily overseas may well be a good move.
I notice you said you never admitted to staring at my arse. And if you're referring to the moment I think you are, you're correct, I was too preoccupied with the ritual to pay attention to what Andy was thinking at the time. Teasing him for staring at my arse was something of an inside joke we had at the time, and I wanted to lighten the mood before jumping.
I wouldn't say I'm particularly vain. That many people find me aesthetically pleasing is simple fact, and saying so is nothing more than acknowledging reality. False humility serves no one.
I'm joking, by the way. Was that obvious? Looking back on what I wrote I can't tell, but oh well. I'm aware I can be somewhat vain, at times, but beauty can be a power of its own — failing to properly utilise the gifts I was born with would just be wasteful.
The word you want, for when people derive sexual gratification by "showing off" to other people (often even strangers), is exhibitionism. I wouldn't say I'm an exhibitionist, though. The pleasure I get from other people's appreciation of my body, sexual or otherwise, is not itself sexual — I can't say what it is, precisely, but I can feel the difference. It's closer to how I feel about people's appreciation of my intellect, or my skill with magic, if not quite the same thing. It simply pleases me, I can't tell you why.
Just as the knowledge that you touched yourself watching me and Julie pleases me, though again, I can't tell you why. I know it's not sexual — the thought of it doesn't get me going, and I have no sexual interest in you whatsoever (as I've said before, you continue to be too young for me) — but beyond that I can't say what it might be. It simply is.
If you tire of that memory, I can send you more, though I'm not certain how many I have you'd be interested in. I've been with more men than women, and you did say you suspect you're a lesbian, so unless you want more of me and Julie my selection is limited.
Yes, Liz, I'm just as "fucked up" as you are. More so in some ways, I would argue — I suspect Severus's presence in your life is already doing you some good, and I have honestly never had an adult in my life I could depend on for shite. I seem "all smooth and confident" to you because I've had much longer to overcome my neuroses, or else accommodate the more stubborn ones. That doesn't mean I'm not still a mess where no one can see.
Also, I long ago trained myself to act cool and unflappable as consistently as possible. I don't know about you, but when I was a child any sign of weakness was an invitation for the other orphans to pounce — and if their mockery and shoving elicited pathetic enough of a reaction, it wasn't unusual I'd end up getting the shite kicked out of me. The "smooth and confident" act started as a defence mechanism, but after so long pretending this is just what I'm like now.
I understand what you mean by "Liz is broken" now. If the use of that word truly doesn't bother you, I suppose it's not my place to tell you to stop using it. But as long as you do you're going to have to deal with people assuming you intend to disparage yourself. I'm not certain what I'd say instead — despite being just as "fucked up" as you are, this honestly isn't a sentiment I've ever made a habit of expressing to people — but it's something to keep in mind.
It took me a bit of investigation to figure out what "PTSD" was referring to — I didn't realise at first it was a muggle term, and muggle psychiatry has changed much over the decades I was in that diary. It sounds quite similar to what was called shell shock in my time, though that was often written off as a sign of cowardice. (Which was obvious nonsense, of course.) So I learned something new today, how fun.
I don't think you realise the value of the gift you sent me with your last letter, Liz. Do you have any idea how much gold some people would spend to get a copy of the memory of the wards of Hogwarts being raised? Many of the arts of that time have been lost, and the Founders have become all but deified in the centuries since, even so small a glimpse into that time is an incomparable treasure. I'm serious, Liz, this is worth hundreds of galleons, maybe even thousands. When I came to the point in your letter where you explained what the phial contained, I was struck dumb for several moments, staring uncomprehendingly at the memory in my hand, hardly able to process the thought.
This is, in all honesty, the single most valuable gift anyone has ever given me of their own volition. I'm awed, truly. Thank you, Elizabeth.
Of course, I don't have a pensieve, so I can't fully appreciate it as of now — I'm designing a complex pensieve as a project for one of my classes, so I suppose I will have to wait a few more months. I've hidden the memory away in my potions supplies to keep it safe in the meanwhile.
I strongly recommend you don't give out any further copies of this memory. One of the greatest protections Hogwarts has is that nobody has seen the wardstones — allowing this memory to spread around will make Hogwarts much more vulnerable. It would be possible to blur out the runes in a complex pensieve — that is how they get commentary into those memories of historical events or duelling tournaments for sale — so if you do wish to distribute the memory please wait for me to finish my project and make a censored version first.
I realise just now I never did congratulate you on your success. You have already progressed much further in your study of these magics than I ever managed, I'm very impressed. You've done excellent work, Liz, truly.
And then you manage to astound me yet again in the space of a single letter — the castle actually made contact with you! I'm sure the experience wasn't entirely pleasant, as large and old and powerful as the wards are, but honestly, I envy you intensely right now. You realise you are likely the first person to directly communicate with the intelligence governing the wards for centuries?
That Hogwarts may be conscious to a degree is not a surprise. Now that we have confirmation that the wards were raised with sacrificial soul magic, it is even less of a surprise, but there has been conjecture there may be an awareness there for some time. One of the peculiar phenomena concerning magical accretion is that, if enough magic is gathered and held in one place at a sufficient density, it is possible for an object to spontaneously develop consciousness. An alien consciousness, certainly, as the structure of its being is shaped by the underlying enchantment in place of a biological brain, but a consciousness nonetheless. Such self-aware objects are rare, but a known phenomenon — the bloody Sorting Hat is another example, in fact, though in that case one intentionally created.
And my use of "intentionally" there is significant: the common theory is that wards may achieve consciousness spontaneously, not as a planned aspect of their design. That magic may accumulate in one place, slowly over centuries, until the wards gradually begin to develop something that might be called self-awareness. There are a handful of ancient magical structures that have developed consciousness in this manner, some sufficiently sophisticated to directly communicate with the humans who inhabit them. I suspect, from what few details you put in your letter, and what little I gleaned subsuming a copy I made of the original, that Hogwarts was intentionally designed to be conscious to some degree, this consciousness given direct control of the wards' operation — that may well be a unique accomplishment.
It has long been taken as a bland statement of fact, but it seems Slytherin and Ravenclaw truly were unparalleled geniuses of their age. That they truly accomplished such a thing, I am simply in awe.
Your feeling that something may be wrong with the wards is concerning. Let me first put your mind at ease that it is almost certainly safe to remain under the wards for the time being — it is true that the wards catastrophically failing could well be fatal for anyone under them, but you will see very clear signs something is terribly wrong long before that happens. Taking your description at face value, that the consciousness you encountered feels "crackling" and "jumping," those sound like they may be signs of interference on the wards. Interference of a magnitude great enough, it seems, that it is even carried all the way through the consciousness governing them.
As unlikely as it seems on the face of it — wards can only tolerate so much interference and remain standing — the longer I consider the possibility the more plausible it seems. As you know, Hogwarts is widely considered to be the safest place in Britain, the wards the most powerful and comprehensive of any on the island; while that may have been true once, it is not so anymore. That the wards are bearing so much interference that they no longer function as they should is an unsettling thought. It has been so long, and so little is known about them, I can't help worrying that they aren't being properly maintained.
I'm not going to demand you do as I ask — I realise your first encounter with it was quite unpleasant. But I would like you to try to make contact with the castle again. I have little better idea than you how you would go about such a thing — you are much more talented with divination than I, and you've already gotten its attention once, perhaps it is already watching. If possible, I would like you to try to ask it if something is wrong; and if so, what. I would dearly like to know whatever it may tell you.
Don't worry, I realise asking you to fix whatever may be wrong with the castle is far too much for a girl your age. I'm already looking into specialists in soul magic and warding I can ask for advice — if you have success identifying the problem, even in general terms, I can work out a plan of action with suitable experts, and bring our suggestions to someone with the authority to do something about it. If you have no interest in participating in this project, trying to get the castle to tell you what is wrong is literally the only thing I will ask of you.
Regardless of what you decide, I am deeply moved by the gift of the memory. Thank you, Liz, truly.
And you continue to be so adorable sometimes — drawing little music notes again, honestly...
Tamsyn
፠
Tamsyn
Jesus, your letter was stupid long — twelve pages this time? Seriously, we have problems, this is getting ridiculous...
You're not special, old lady, I'm equally rude to everyone.
I went ahead and ordered all the books you mentioned, because fuck it, why not. I tear through books annoyingly quickly — I asked her out of curiosity, and I actually read more on a regular basis than Hermione, which is slightly insane — and I'm running low on shite to read at the moment, so I might as well. Politics isn't something I was ever interested in before, but I might as well, if only so I don't look like an idiot when people try to talk to me about this stuff.
The history lesson about Miskatonic was interesting, I guess, but once again far more than necessary — honestly, Tamsyn, don't you have anything better to do? I also went ahead and ordered Blood on the Water — it took flipping through a couple different publishers' catalogues before I found Bagshot, bloody things — also because why not, but really, Europeans hate Miskatonic because they're racist bastards, that's literally all you needed to say.
Of course, they got rid of alchemy because we can't possibly have muggleborns studying the fancy magic, I should have expected that. British mages are never not racist bastards.
The reason I don't "exploit a resource like Severus Snape" is less because I'm not a "manipulative bitch" like you are — which I'm not, that part's true, I never really wanted shite from people so I never bothered learning how to do the enthralling or whatever you do all the time. Just when I need or want something it just doesn't occur to me that I can ask him, because I've never had an adult in my life before either. This is still really new, and weird, and it's very confusing sometimes, and it just doesn't click right away. Also, he's absurdly fucking busy — I'm serious, I have no idea when that man finds the time to sleep — and I don't want to make more trouble for him than I have to, so.
...Well shite. It just occurred to me that my instinct to try not to bother him is because I want him to like me, and I have no idea what I did to get my relatives to hate me — I realise in retrospect the thing I did was exist, but I spent years assuming I must have done something wrong, and I guess the little abused kid part of my brain is worried I'll fuck it up again. Asking people for help normally doesn't occur to me just because, but I guess it's possible I might be more cautious with bothering Severus too much. It's not that I think it's likely I'm going to make him turn on me somehow, but it's just easier to stay quiet and out of the
fuck fuck fuck that's what I used to do with my relatives, I didn't even realise what I was saying until I saw the words on the page fuck do I really still do that? It's not on purpose, but doing badly in class first year wasn't on purpose either and I doŋ
I neɗ t- go cu/se søŋɵħıɳ
And I'm back. Jesus, I fucked up some of the writing there, but I don't feel like restarting the letter, so fuck it. Yeah, so, apparently instead of being a manipulative bitch, I'm just a complete fucking mess. Noted.
The stuff about how the law works for rape and the age of consent and shite is so completely fucked up, I don't even have words. I suppose I should feel lucky Dumbledore just put me with my shitty relatives, and didn't let some of his arsehole light friends fuck me instead. I continue to hate this country.
For all I care, the Irish or the communalists or whatever can just burn this whole stupid island (or at least the magical parts). Fuck Britain, honestly.
I didn't mean to imply that I stared at your arse in that flying memory, but I guess I kind of did, using "admitted" like that. (I don't have my letter, obviously, but I cheated and used my pensieve to check, because pensieves are the coolest thing.) In retrospect, I maybe did a little, but I wasn't really aware I was doing it — I don't think the proper hormones had quite kicked in yet.
False humility, mhm, sure. You're so silly sometimes, Tamsyn.
Okay, I guess the not technically being an exhibitionist thing kind of makes sense — I'm not sure I 100% get what the difference is, but I'll take your word for it that there is one. Sending porn of yourself to some 13 year old girl you barely know is still weird. I mean, not complaining, exactly, because fucking hell, I'm just saying.
(Well, I guess not barely know, how many letters have we written? Whatever, you get what I mean.)
If you want to send me more memories, I'm not going to refuse them, I guess. Maybe one with a bloke in it would be a good idea, to confirm I'm actually gay, you know.
See, I just tried to stay quiet and out of the way, so I didn't do the pretending to be all smooth and confident thing. A lot of people think I'm really cold and creepy sometimes, but.
It honestly didn't occur to me that the memory I sent you would be so valuable. Thinking about it, I guess it maybe should have been, because mages are stupid about the Founders and their ancestors or whatever, I just wasn't thinking about it like that. I didn't really mean anything by sending it to you, but you're welcome, I guess.
Thank you for reminding me that people sell memories of duels and stuff — I'd meant to buy some of those, but I completely forgot by the time I actually got my pensieve to work. Apparently they don't send them through the post, though, I have to wait until summer comes around again to do that. I'll probably forget by then, because there's a lot going on, with the duelling team and my guardianship stuff and whatever, but oh well.
But yeah, that's probably a good idea, I promise I won't make any more copies until you get your special pensieve made.
Some things just absorb enough magic to become self-aware on their own? Fucking hell, magic is so damn cool.
I had a few minutes earlier today, so I went back to the spot I did my dream walking thing, and tried to get the castle's attention again. I'm certain it saw me, but it didn't come very close — just a little flicker, you know, kind of like someone just quick glancing in your direction. Of course, even just that much is about as overwhelming as getting into a big proper mind magic fight, this thing is fucking huge, it's a hell of a rush.
It was really fucking scary the first time, and while it is kind of intimidating — the wards could definitely crush me like a bug — it wasn't so bad this time? I mean, a hell of a rush, yeah, but. I don't know, I guess just because I know what it is now, and I know it doesn't want to hurt me, that might make up the difference. As weird as all this is, it
The wards are meant to protect us. Like how you said in your letter, that their mind would be based on the structure of the enchantment instead of a biological brain, those runes in that cavern are the very core of this thing — I don't think it would ever hurt any of us. I don't think it can, even if it wanted to. I feel far more confident of this guess than I really should be, but I'm positive I'm right, must be a seer thing.
Anyway, the point I'm getting at is that I didn't get anything more from it this time. It did notice I was there, but I don't think it even heard my question. I'll keep trying, I'll tell you if I make any progress.
Are you crazy, of course I want in on this! The wards are ALIVE, how fucking cool is that? * I LOVE * MAGIC * *
(See what I did there, if I be more adorable maybe you'll like talking to me more and want to keep me in the loop. It turns out I am a manipulative bitch too, ha ha!)
Elizabeth
Oh! Post script thing, almost forgot, update on the Daphne situation, she forgave me and we're friends again. Actually, she was never angry with me in the first place, and I was worrying so much over nothing, and I feel like a total idiot. But still, thanks for the help, it turns out it wasn't really necessary but I appreciate it anyway.
Right, bye now.
Woo, many letters, all these wordy bitches. Once again, the asterisks are supposed to be music notes, stupid FFN won't display them. The O in "I LOVE MAGIC" is also supposed to be a heart. Damn thing...
And poor Liz — just because she's had one breakthrough doesn't mean she isn't still a mess.
Also, Tamsyn tankie confirmed?! Stay tuned to find out!
(/s)
Anyway, since we got through most of the big important development points, we're actually getting close to the end of third year. My outline I made ages ago now is down to twelve items, out of an original thirty — thirty starting from VIII, summer and the arrival at school weren't counted in the outline. Out of curiosity, I just checked it over and divided scenes into chapters (and ended up deleting one I'm not using anymore, so eleven items), and I think there will be five more third year chapters...or four and a half, I guess, the second half of the last one is leaving school for summer. This is only an estimate, a couple scenes (particularly one two chapters from now) might go long and require me to adjust how I'm splitting them up, we'll see how it goes.
Like third year, there's a lot going on in the summer before fourth year, things to do with Liz's developing living situation and relationships and stuff, and also there's the summer student duelling tournament. I'm anticipating a mini-arc with the Malfoys and the Quidditch Cup too. And then, of course, fourth year is going to be long due to actual events, with the Triwizard and all, but Liz's situation is actually trending up, so there will be fewer diversions to do with that stuff. As my plans develop, I actually don't know if third or fourth year will be longer when all is said and done, we'll see.
Right, that's more than enough from me, see you all next time.