A series of Events

Hermione blinked once, twice and then realized that what she was seeing was real.

In front of her was Hogwarts, in all its glory. It could have been from any memory and she would have gone with that, except that her eyes were seeing signs of patch-up jobs and hastily done reparo's. Years with Guiomer had made her rather sensitive to reparo spells, especially if they were badly done.

To seal the deal, her body seemed to be translucent.

Before she could wonder what that meant, and test it out, somebody just passed beside her, a preoccupied air about him. It was a good thing he didn't pass through her. Hermione didn't want to test how that would go just yet.

Hermione did a Heather and trailed after him before she could think too much about it. (Because really, thinking too much would get her in serious trouble one day, to quote Luna.)

Though…now that she thought about it, why was the young man headed towards Hogwarts when it was obvious that he looked to have graduated long ago? And was his hair color teal?

"Teddy Lupin!" a merry voice boomed.

Reflexively, Hermione grinned at that. Hagrid, barely changed except by the mass of curls braided back. He was proudly wielding a new crossbow and…was that a pink apron?

Several theories that she had floating around in her head immediately crossed themselves out. Hermione was still holding out on the idea of a potion-induced hallucination – slash – dream instead of the more logical yet at the same time far-fetched idea of a vision from their old world.

Hermione Granger, also known as Lady Enid, did not do visions.

And also, she may have seen Hagrid bake his rock cakes wearing fluffy orange mittens but she had never seen him wear a pink apron with unicorns and yellow dragons frolicking in it.

Oooh! Scrap that image. Brain error! Brain error!

The potion-induced dream was sounding more and more logical.

" – have an appointment with the headmaster," the young man was saying. "Is that a new crossbow, Hagrid?"

Wait a moment…she thought.

"Yup," Hagrid beamed. "The centaurs bartered me for some potions. They always make the best ones." He sighed. "Well, I better not keep you long. Headmaster Longbottom is usually busy."

"Alright, Hagrid," the young man said with a fond smile. "I'll see you when I'm done."

"See you around, young Mr. Lupin," Hagrid waved.

"Lupin? Longbottom?" Hermione muttered. She watched as Lupin entered the school. Her brain restarted and she hurried after him. "Oh, I have got to see this!"

Hogwarts itself was largely unchanged. True, there may have been lesser armors and more batered looking stone gargoyle, but if you ignored that, it looked timeless. She half-expected to see Heather cringing along the hallway, giving cow-eyes at Blaise Zabini.

It was a bit of a shock though to see Neville seated on Albus Dumbledore's chair.

The shock was probably because Neville looked aged. The young, battle-scarred face from her last memory of him was matured. The scars were faded, the hair graying and longer. A set of silver spectacles perched on his nose.

"Headmaster," Lupin greeted. "How may I help you?"

Neville smiled and Hermione blinked again. She could see the boy he had been in that smile.

"Don't be so formal with us, Teddy," he said. "Come and sit with me .How's your time in the obliviators? Hannah told me that she heard rumors that you transferred squads again."

Teddy could be seen rolling his eyes. "Why," he whined. "Are you married to a barmaid anyway?"

Neville shot him a look and Hermione started. That one was directly ripped off Professor McGonagall. She should know, she got it more often than not, being friends with a trouble-magnet named Heather.

The young man huffed, even as his teal hair turned brown. "I am fine," Teddy insisted. "You nosy man!"

The atmosphere relaxed and they started discussing things. Hermione didn't bother to give her complete attention to it. She allowed her mind to catalogue things and filed it to asses later.

Her attention was grabbed back at the sudden shift in atmosphere. Relaxed and happy had morphed into sad and melancholic.

"Bill sent me a copy of the letter from Gringotts," Neville said. "They've declared Heather dead."

Teddy's face was a study of sadness, curiosity and strangely, caution. "Oh," Teddy said. "They've opened the vaults then?"

Neville sighed, removing his spectacles to run a hand through his face. He looked tired.

"It was empty, Teddy. That means she left willingly," he exhaled explosively. "I always did wonder where Hermione and Luna went. They probably left together."

Teddy's hair cycled through colors and finally settled on a mousy brown. The color seemed to turn Neville's mood even worse when he saw it.

"So she left before she could be told about me," Teddy whispered. There was a world of what-if's in his voice. "Do you think she would be proud of me Neville?"

"Of course, Teddy," Neville said with strong conviction. "Heather loved your father and I am certain she would have loved you too. And what you do may not be something she approves of, she would have been proud of the man you have become."

Oh, Hermione thought. This is Professor Lupin's son.

Hermione woke up and wondered if what she dreamed was true.

After a moments thought, she decided that she would tell the others once things had settled down.

If it was true…

Hermione sighed and bowed her head; thinking of that young wizard that looked like he desperately needed the kind of confidence that Heather would have given. Any acquaintance with Heather would give you confidence.

Initially, Hermione became confident because Heather wasn't. Heather literally needed somebody to be confident for her. Then Heather got better, but her friends still needed confidence because Heather got into scrapes that needed composure to be able to bullshit your way out of.

Oh, Merlin…

Heather's day started with a summons.

Well, it wasn't obviously a summons, the nervous-looking messenger didn't say that quite so blatantly, but he did allude to it with a nervous twitch.

She didn't blame him since Fearghal was looming over her shoulder and being an intimidating little bugger. She had never seen anyone's face drain of color that fast.

Theoden was already turning over the Goldenhall and sending everybody, from the knights to the servants, into a tizzy. As the easily excitable messenger boy told her, the king had turned a delightful red when he'd found half of the knights surrounding his room, heads bowed in grief and some of the servants preparing the funeral flowers.

"And I suppose you were there when he cursed them all to the halls of Mandos?" she asked the brat dryly.

He didn't even need to answer. It was obvious how delighted the little brat was that he'd witnessed the king being so vulgar.

"It was beautiful," he sighed.

Heather had to breathe hard through her nose in an effort not to laugh.

The messenger really had a very precise way of using his words. The Goldenhall bustled. Servants ran to and fro, looking so harried that they would not have looked out of place in the company of headless chickens, except that they were so pleased too.

Heather supposed that a possessed king wasn't one to give good orders. All of them must have been bored to death, and the other half toeing treason in questioning their king's sanity.

Four guards saluted her outside the kings chambers, grins lighting up their faces. While Heather was pretty sure that the king only needed one pair to watch his door, she didn't begrudge them being so protective. It must have been an exquisite sort of helplessness, to watch and be unable to help.

"How's his majesty?" the messenger asked, a smirk on his young, impish face.

One of the guards aimed a kick at his middle, laughing lightly. "Stop hanging around, Merrehelm. The king hasn't sent a maid out in tears for a while now."

As the door closed behind her, Heather heard Merrehelm ask, "It wasn't about the blue washing, was it? Wasn't Lord Eomer responsible for that?"

She had to smother a chuckle.

Theoden was propped up in the bed, somehow managing to look like he was holding court instead of having to hold on to the bed posts in order to stay upright and not lean back to the pillows. Well, he was holding court. There was one housekeeper, a steward, a general and one other soldier taking notes on a scroll of parchment, all of them surrounding the king.

They should have loomed over him, yet they didn't. He somehow radiated enough presence that the looming didn't happen.

Heather wondered how he did it.

"Theoden, my friend," she greeted him when the stream of instructions stopped and all of them looked at her.

"Lady Gryffon," Theoden said, inclining his head regally.

He gave a sharp gesture and all of them left, leaving the two leaders alone.

Any other person would have been intimidated. Theoden had survived a war, resurfaced scarred yet unbroken. It spoke of something that a contingent of bloodthirsty, horse-riding warriors followed him. His will was formidable, perhaps more formidable than Heathers, given his age.

But Heather had faced down a Dark Lord. She had faced an angry school of wizards in her second year and fourth year. Trolls, orcs and goblins had hardened her.

She was his equal, and both of them knew that.

"I hope you don't think me a hypocrite for telling you," he started. "But you look terrible."

Heather experienced a very acute sense of déjà vu. The evidence of Eomer's and Theoden's kinship showed very clearly in this moment.

"Eomer said the same thing," she said. "And I wondered how you were related."

Theoden finally smiled and it did wonders to the gauntness on his face. His constitution truly was remarkable, to only come out of a possession with only exhaustion and mild trauma.

Actually…

"You did recover quite fast," she said. "Most people I know don't quite get up from it at all."

A proud look settled on his face, his chin jutting out, eyes brightening. "We are descendants of the Numenor," he stated simply. "And our ancestors were blessed by the Valar."

'Someday' Heather thought. 'I really would like to know what that means.'

"Blessed or not," she said instead. "Do you feel any pain? That was the first time I've ever done it."

Draco would have said, "That makes me feel so much better." Theoden only said, "You did a wonderful job." Then he heaved a heavy gust of air. It was an exhalation of pure exhaustion.

The part of Heather that was the sister of Eilys the Healer, quailed at it. She wanted to make him lie down, bank the fire and cover him up with blankets.

"What do these symbols mean?" Theoden asked. He did not sound weary despite looking like death warmed over.

Heather sighed, giving up on letting him rest. She respected his resolve to remain a pillar of steadiness for his people. If she called him out on it, she'd be a bloody hypocrite.

"Those are runes, a language my sister studies. It means: strength, healing and protection," she answered.

His eyes gleamed. "Thank you, my friend," he whispered. His eyes closed, a gesture of heartfelt relief.

She didn't know if it was because she had kept correspondence with him for years. She only knew that Theoden was so weary and that he was thanking her for more than just removing that parasite from his body and mind.

"Of course, Theoden," she answered even if she was as confused as anything.

Her intuition was silent. Heather wanted to bash her head on something sharp.

Thank Varda Theodred dashed in at that moment, looking so gleeful and happy at seeing his fathers lucid state, even if he was paler than anything and looked like a stiff wind could knock him over.

They both started talking in rapid Rohirric, completely forgetting Heather.

She walked off with a huff, just as the first vision in years hits her.

It started with a jolt of…difference, like being plunged into cold water, except that wasn't quite so accurate either because it wasn't painful, neither did the temperature change.

She had never tried that with visions, usually they just came and the repercussions came in the form of nightmares for her next sleep. Maybe it was because she had not had a true vision in years.

Nevertheless, she instinctively knew it was a vision and it started with trees.

Big, ancient trees, with branches and leaves so abundant that very little light filtered down the first floor, leaving it a teeming mass of fertilizer composed of dead leaves and other things.

Goblins and orcs marched, trampling through what little grew underneath. No trolls, none would fit between the trees and they would be easy pickings.

Just as suddenly, the dark army stopped as arrows rained down from the trees. Small movement among the branches that could easily be mistaken as leaves being rustled by the wind but they were elves. Elves clad in browns and greens and so camouflaged that you would lose sight of them if you blinked.

They did not need help. They were winning.

The vision shifted at that thought and she saw dwarves and men of Esgaroth, by the crest of it, fighting back to back. This horde of darkness was far larger than what the elves were dealing with.

The tactical part of Heather's mind recognized the brilliance of the strategy. The sympathetic part of her cried out because if the dwarves and men ever faltered, just for a second, the dark army would push through and the elves would be in the middle of two armies. And completely slaughtered.

Heather came out of her vision with a gasp of suppressed pain. She had been clenching her hands and her nails came out bloody, having caused gouges into her palms.

"Are you alright?" came the stupid question. Heather nearly snarled.

"No," she hissed.

Heather did not question why her visions, which had been positively murky for the past few years, had suddenly cleared to give her that.

"Get me the fastest messenger," she started as someone helped her stand steady. "No, scrap that. Does anywhere in Edoras have messenger owls?"

Heather met Theoden's eyes and saw his knowledge. He knew, in some measure, what she had seen. Instead of despair, like what any lesser man would have felt, she saw his resolve and the steel will that his family line was famous for.

"Prepare for war," Theoden said simply, softly yet it reverberated like a gong in the entire room.

Hermione was in the middle of arguing with Draco – though she didn't really know about what subject. With his temper so short, he needed people to argue with lest he explode on innocent and unsuspecting by-standers. Still, people noticed and it wore on all of them.

Then she felt the inner wards tingle as a familiar presence crossed them and the argument broke off. Draco had felt him as well and she nearly smiled at the eagerness that crossed his face.

Well, Faramir had always been more Draco's student than hers.

"My lady, my lord," a runner said, panting a little. "That fellow that was my lord's student is here, with his brother."

Hermione had to look down in order not to broadcast to the nosy people – and to Draco, the very large smile of relief she had on her face. It was impossible to repress.

She had not seen Draco smile in years. It was like drinking cool water after being so parched that you could almost taste your own blood. Refreshing and slightly painful.

That bloody dark lord really needed to go soon.

"Lord Hodur," Faramir greeted. "Lady Enid."

The smile on Faramir's face truly had not changed a bit. It was still warm, welcoming and kind. Hed managed to make it feel like a warm blanket covering you.

He had aged but it didn't seem to matter terribly because hed kept all the things that defined him best.

Boromir hovered a bit uncertainly behind his brother.

"You've expanded," he said. "I hardly recognized it when we arrived."

Hermione laughed. "You really should have visited more often," she said. "The shock would have been gradual."

"I don't think so," Boromir insisted. "Gondor's buildings are never this ostentatious."

Draco cut in, mirth lighting up his face. "Your powers of observation seemed to have deteriorated, Lord Boromir. Have you seen what the Halls of the Steward are made of?"

Seeing as it was made of white granite mined straight from the mountains, he had no place to talk about ostentatious.

Hermione bit her lip to stop her laughter.

The hilarity fled when she accidentally brushed against Boromir, and nearly vomited.

Darkness, which she had always felt faintly around people, clung to him and emanated in waves. There was no way Draco could not have seen it.

"Draco," she gasped. There was a tightness to Draco's expression that she had not noticed previously.

"I know," he responded curtly. "There are purifying chambers near the Rising Eagle."

Hermione hoped it would work against the thick, sludge-like taint clinging to the brothers. What in Arda had they been doing that caused such a thing to cling to them? Merlin only knew the effect it had on their minds.

"What is amiss?"Faramir asked sharply.

Hermione looked to Draco. By the tense line of his shoulders, what he was seeing must have been terrible. More terrible than usual.

"I have to pass you both by the Purifying Chambers first," Hermione said, the lie coming out on the spot. It was rather inspired as both brothers didn't know Heather that well to spot the lie, and Boromir hadn't even met her. "Gryffon wants all visitors to pass by the purifying chambers first. It's a bit of a standard protocal nowadays."

There were no protests and the brothers were given a room all for themselves once the guards saw the two founders with them.

The people watched but Hermione didn't care. She had to steady Boromir as he staggered. Faramir went pale and slowed his walk. Everywhere, all the crystals that surrounded the chamber flared an eye-burning white as it sucked up the darkness and changed it to pure energy.

Faramir had to sit but Boromir knelt, heaving up the contents of his stomach. Hermione hurriedly vanished the emission and summoned a wash cloth, wiping away at his face. Something was coming out of his eyes.

"Oh, Magic of Morgana," she whispered.

"Get him out of here," Draco snapped. "It's gotten hold of his insides. It will tear him apart as it goes out."

Oh Merlin. Oh bugger. They had never had a case this bad.

"Kreacher!" Hermione yelled, breathless and slightly hysterical.

With a Pop! The house-elf arrived, took one look at Boromir and nodded. In an instant, Boromir was gone, escorted out with Kreachers capable hands.

Faramir was out cold. A healthy flush had taken over his cheeks. Draco leaned against the wall, tired from the sudden burst of adrenaline.

"In magics name," he said hoarsely. "That was insane."

Hermione wanted to laugh but she restrained herself because she had a feeling it would come out sounding a bit crazy.

"You need to hit the cauldrons," she said.

He nodded, for once not arguing against an order. "I need to start inventing something against this."

In unison, they picked up Faramir, hauling an arm over each shoulder.

By all the gods of magic, what had the brothers been doing? She wasn't sure if she wanted to know.

Luna frowned as she received the reports of the Order.

Her organization seemed to thrive with all the skirmishes happening with the Dark Lord. Membership peaked with citizens from different towns and countries applying. Saldians actually allocated a portion of their income to donate to their cause and no Order member ever had difficulties when passing by Rohan.

Though, while there were still occasions when they really needed funds, Draco had solved that by giving her the Greenhouses. The Order was now receiving a portion of the profits from selling potions.

Mainly, what was making her frown was her sudden urge to go east.

She hadn't had an urge to wander in a while and it made her pout because she thought she'd cured it. Ever since she was a little girl, she'd get these impulses to do things, mainly to dance or to go over the pond to talk to Ginny. These usually gave her something, a bit of chocolate stepped on in the middle of prancing and getting a sparkly hair-tie when visiting Ginny.

In Hogwarts, the urge was to explore. This led to her being bullied. Everything was too interesting and her instincts usually led her somewhere where no one had ever gone before and to suddenly notice her own vanishing shoes was too much of a hassle so she'd gone without.

This….this sudden urge to go east was troubling. She'd always followed her urges because they led to good things but this time, she had to think of other people, like her siblings and her nephew's family. And the others like her assistants. And the Saldians.

The wards would stand without her and Heather but it would be significantly weaker and nothing at all like how it should be when all of them powered it.

Oh, how did the founders defend Hogwarts in its first few decades? She doubted they ever had to deal with a dark lord and its armies, but this was insane.

Though...now that she thought about it…

None of her siblings ever finished their last year of education and she was even missing two years of a witch's standard education. She didn't count the year under the Carrow's. That was torture and brain washing disguised as education.

It really was a wonder that they managed to build Saldia at all.

"You look like you swallowed one of Lord Hodur's experimental potions," Deimos said from the doorway. "The ones that really hurt bad."

Fatherhood had mellowed Deimos, but not by much. He was actually teaching little Mayren how to string people up with just words.

"I don't make a face when I drink Hodur's potions," Luna disagreed. "It would just be rude. I do enjoy telling him how it tastes like. He turns such a lovely shade of green. For a person in his profession, he is extremely squeamish."

Deimos snorted. "And you call me malicious." He stepped into the room and Luna could see the concern shining from his eyes. "Truly, my lady. What is the matter?" he asked.

He had such adorable eyes and he knew it too. He wielded it mercilessly as he looked at her. Luna caved. Really, there was no surprise there.

"I'm getting this really strong craving to travel east," she said. "But with how dark things are, I can't just leave or Saldia will be weakened."

Deimos looked incredulous. "My lady, have you seen our army?" he asked. "And the Brotherhood that troop through everyday getting supplies from the barracks? Don't even get me started on the Order. Those healers could bring down a troll and still act bashful about it. It's bloody annoying."

Luna disguised a laugh as a cough. "I take it you speak from experience?" she asked. There was a smile in her voice that she couldn't remove fully.

"It was a completely unnerving thing to see," he muttered. "Some of those healers are smaller than Lady Gryffon."

Luna finally let out a laugh and his eyes snapped to her. "That't not the point," he protested. "If you wish to, you can go on your pilgrimage for a month and nothing would happen."

Oooh! That was so tempting. Luna fairly swooned at the idea.

"I'll just go ask my siblings," she murmured, feeling a bit ridiculous for hesitating. But the idea of a vacation was something that none of them ever contemplated seriously. There was always something to do – and for workaholic people like her sibling, the very idea of a vacation must have been foreign to them. Vacation and work were two things that were synonymous once you loved what you were working on.

Deimos finally took one look around her office and sighed. It was littered with paperwork that was scattered haphazardly in different piles that teetered and seemed to be on the brink of toppling over.

"I'll just fetch Phobos," he muttered. "This is going to take a while."

From the look of it, the back log went back for weeks. As long as the newspaper nonsense had been going.

Oh, Manwe.

This was going to take a really long while.

Heather found herself leaving Rohan against her will.

It was an unpleasant experience, she decided. She supposed no one would find being tied up like a chicken and tossed in a burlap sack pleasant. Being covered while in the aforementioned burlap sack was even worse.

What sealed the deal for her, however, were the whimpering cries she heard in her second day of captivity.

She could deal with being kidnapped from Rohan when it was preparing for war. Theoden had a handle on that.

She could deal with being tied since her magic could untie her willy-nilly.

She could even deal with the rough handling since she'd faced worse with Voldemort.

What she could not deal with was the whimpering cries of a child.

Bloody bugger it, but this was getting out of hand.

With a deft flick of her wrist, her bonds dissolved and she withdrew from its temporal space pocket the Elder wand.

It took an ingenious use of the severing charm, as well as some accio's and – in one satisfying moment – a bombarda. Her captors died quickly, they were just goblins and it seemed almost a waste to use magic on them. A good bludgeoning could have worked as well as the next thing – and it would have been such a beautiful stress relief.

Ah, how anti-climatic.

She took a deep breath to steady her emotions and her rioting thoughts. In the same breath, she vanished the goblin corpses and opened the other burlap sack carrying the second kidnapping victim.

And promptly had a bloody buggering migraine.

The little brunette girl had Fearghal's eyes. Any doubts on her parentage flew out the window when she glowered at Heather.

"Who are you?" she asked. "Where's my papa? Why am I here?"

The last question recalled Heather as to why she recognized the girl. Heather remembered playing with her for a moment, teaching her some knife tricks beore blacking out. Presumably, she had been taken then. Of course the only witness was going to be taken too.

Fearghal was going to murder all goblins, if he didn't murder her first.

Bugger it.

A screech caught her attention. Ah, Hafny. Heather had sent out a pulse of magic to catch her attention and it seemed the intellegent eagle-owl finally caught up.

It was quick work to write a note to the no doubt panicking father. Hafny flew off and Heather turned to the girl who was holding her little booth knife and eyeing her warily.

"What do you say about going on an adventure?" she asked the girl, making her perk up. "My name is Gryffon and I taught your papa how to wield a sword."

If eyes could sparkle in adoration, her eyes would have done it. Heather watched in amusement as all wary thoughts flew out and the little girl gushed. There truly was no other word for it.

"Really?" she exclaimed. "We are? Papa doesn't allow me to. Do you think he won't mind?"

Heather felt her eyebrows climb up.

Character Introspection: Teddy Lupin

When Teddy was old enough, he was often told that he ought to be a good boy, because all good boys got good things.

He lived with his grandmother and he knew she said that just so he would eat his vegetables.

Broccoli, yuck!

When he was ten, he saw a picture of a thin girl with a big smile. She looked like she wanted to laugh at something but was holding back because that would be rude. He asked his Gran, and that's how he learned about hi godmother.

"We never found her," Gran said softly, in that way she had when she was trying not to cry. "All searches led to failure. I looked too, because I wanted to tell her about you."

Teddy was confused. "You mean, she didn't know about me?" he asked.

She nodded. "I looked to tell her. During the war, there was simply no time. And after the war, she just...left."

When Teddy was thirteen and smart enough to understand the books in the Library, he thought back to that conversation and finally understood why his Gran cried.

The methods magic had in searching for somebody was extensive and thorough. For someone not be found, after so many years, only said one thing. She was dead, or had forgotten her own name - and the latter wasn't even likely.

He asked the Headmaster and received a better response, simply because he knew her as a friend.

"Heather?" the Headmaster repeated. "She wasn't exactly happy in Hogwarts. She loved this place, yeah, but she hated gossip and slander, and she received that by the bucket load. But when she was happy, she could really be happy. Like an overpowered cheering charm."

And as much as Teddy enjoyed hearing about her, he'd prefer not to. If he listened, he'd start wishing for what he couldn't have and that would make him angry and pissed off.

"What do you think happened to her?" he asked instead.

He regretted asking the Headmaster that because he looked really tired and sad.

"The last I saw of Heather," he whispered. "She was pale and tired and she looked like she wanted to die. I don't know what to think, Mr. Lupin."

Gran always told him to be optimistic. But Heather was such a fleeting wish that never came true. So after twenty-five years, when the Potter vaults was finally declared dormant and the owner dead, Teddy Lupin released the old dreams he had.

Teddy finally buried his hope of seeing his godmother.

DELETED SCENES:

Mayren and the Incident with the paint

Draco didn't even need to open his eyes anymore, or use his gift.

"Don't even think about it," he said loudly.

The footsteps stopped and there was a loud sigh.

"How do you know?" Mayren demanded. "How do you always know?"

He smirked. "Dear little minx, you always ask the simple questions. The better question is, why do I always know it's you?" It was unsaid that he read minds or something even more sinister.

The little girl paled a little and then fled, leaving behind the bucket of paint that she would have upended over his head.

Meiran, watching the entire thing behind a bookshelf, sighed. "Every single time," she muttered. "I tell her no, don't do it. And she does it anyway. The most contrary child in Middle-Earth."

Draco laughed. "And you wonder how she's related to you?" he remarked.

Yes, Irmo sent Hermione that vision. Yes it is real. Hermione got that vision and not the others because out of all of them, only Hermione ever really thinks about their old world. Draco wouldn't care, Luna would probably find some Luna-ish way to wake up and Heather would be all angst and regret and she wouldn't function so well anymore.

Heather's vision was the Battle Under the Trees. This happened when the Fellowship was travelling south. (Yes, this happened in the book and this is the reason why no elves or dwarves ever helped Rohan or Gondor when the Dark War happened.)

I thought that the Palantir that Denethor used (This is in the book) was tainted. Since Boromir worked more closely with his father than Faramir, he would be more covered with the taint. The Palantir (lost seeing stones) were gifts from the Valar. It was touched by Melkor and his servant and things went insane for others that touched it. (This is my take on things, don't think this is all fact, okay?)

And Gosh, I just put a scene with Mayren, seeing as I completely forgot that I knocked up Meiran a couple of chapters back….

Questions:

Detailed Descriptions of Saldia and its cities:

Oh, gods. This is the part where I wish I knew how to draw. I even bought a "How to draw" for Dummies, or something. I'll try. I really will. I love Saldia, there's this really vivid image of it in my head (and somehow there's Luna in one corner, dancing). Maybe I can find a friend to draw it for me as I describe it, or maybe I can finally find the right words to describe it.

Can Heather speak Parseltongue?

Used to. Went away when her dark lord died.

Are either of the pets immortal?

Nope. Hafny has an extended lifespan when Heather bonded with her, but she will eventually die. Fenny…actually, I wrote this lovely one shot about Fenny and Luna in my tumblr. If you read it, you can actually feel the foreshadowing. (Won't say it here, will spoil other people)

On the matter of Ronald Weasley:

Hmm, he actually got a bit sidelined. In the prequel fic for this fic, titled: Ice, Stone and Snow, Heather is timid, Hermione is forceful and bossy. When they met Ron, Hermione went, "I don't like him," and you know how she holds on to grudges. Heather was too timid to say, "he's changed a bit already, let's befriend him," as the school year went on.

Actually hadn't put this in Ice, Stone and Snow yet. Sorry. (Just checked now.)

People (I counted five) usually tell me that "they passed by this fic and just read it now because the summary is not brilliant or eyecatching enough…" soo…

I have a question. Should I change my summary? And if yes, then give me a suggestion.

~Hallen

P.S. I did so not get lazy once I hit my 1000 review mark. I graduated…and then got a job. The transition is jarring. I don't have much free time anymore. *sob*