Author's Note:
This is both a HP reworking of "Back to the Future" themes, and a continuation/soft reboot/reworking of the time travel tale "Hair of the Grim" by Nightmare Sired Muse. It also contains many concepts, lines and situations from the grab-bag that is "Odd Ideas" by Rorschach's Blot. Both are used with the permission of their original authors (except for "Back to the Future" of course). The Harry Potter series belongs to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. I do not own Harry Potter or anything else. Full disclaimer in the Table of Contents.
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Rated M for some violence, language, drug use and sexual references. Nothing explicit.
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Canon-compliant. HP&DH compliant (except the Epilogue). HP&CC compliant (except the conclusion). FB&WTFT compliant. Pottermore compliant (mostly). Some crossover with: Naruto, Ranma ½, Neon Genesis Evangelion and Avatar: The Last Airbender. Primarily Harry Potter though.
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Recommended Fanfiction of the Week: "Tipsy Time Travel Tale" by Yunaine.
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Question of the Week: Was anyone ever able to prove whether "My Immortal" was genuine or the greatest troll-fic ever written?
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Chapter 26 – Voyages with Vampires
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I have long ebony black hair (that's how I got my name) with purples streaks and red tips that reaches my mid-back and icy blue eyes like limpid tears. I'm a vampire but my teeth are straight and white. I have pale white skin. I'm also a witch.
– My Immortal
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Padfoot the Patronus successfully managed to lead Padfoot the animagus, his betrothed and three younger charges through the dread hordes of black-clad demons and out of the palace grounds. Stumbling through a hole in the palace's thick stone wall, the group hurried through the foliage as fast as their weary legs would take them. The atmosphere began to feel lighter the further they got from the battle. Eventually, the air lost its bone-eating chill, and their breath stopped being visible.
The three time travellers gave audible sighs of relief to be far away from the chaos and confusion.
Scorpius shivered. "I never want to be anywhere near those things again."
"Which ones?" asked Narcissa.
"The black ones. Dementors."
"Yeah," Al mumbled. "It felt like every bad thing that'd ever happened to me, all at once."
"Here's a good bolt-hole to hunker down in until the excitement's over. Should be safe enough here," Sirius announced, indicating a mass of rubble that looked to have been blown clear off the perimeter walls.
The piles of stones were large enough to provide a defensible barricade. The group slipped inside. The three younger students collapsed in exhaustion against a large fragment and slid into a sitting position, supporting each other's weight. The two older students took up guard positions and scanned the area, even though they were close to exhaustion themselves.
"Sirius … Narcissa … thanks. Thanks for getting us out of there," said Lily Luna sincerely.
"Anytime, pup," he grinned. "Though you may want to be more careful with your calculations next time."
Lily Luna nodded tiredly. With a buzz and pop, the three time travellers were gone, returned to their own present once more.
"Think we should head back?"
"In a bit," the youngest Black daughter declared. "Let's rest for the moment."
Sirius could think of no objection, especially when she had them sit and leaned into his side, burying her face in his neck. Awkwardly he placed an arm around her shoulders.
Their recuperation was interrupted by the arrival of two faded, shimmering Patroni, barely visible anymore. One was a delicate silver butterfly, the other was a vague mass of limbs and other appendages; it reminded Sirius of a fluffy cloud that one couldn't quite decide which animal it most resembled.
"Sirius, we're on our way!" the latter Patronus wheezed in Pettigrew's voice, before dissipating.
"Your timing is impeccable as ever, milord," Sirius said sarcastically. "Glad to see the cavalry's arrived; guess we can just pack up and call it a day then, eh?" The butterfly looked at him in sympathy, before it too faded away.
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The Dementors politely moved aside for Harry as he trotted past, trying to retrace the steps of his quarry. The party of five made swift progress now that the tide of battle had broken, and the demons were merely mopping up the dregs. In the distance, Harry could see Sallie slithering lazily towards the lake for a well-deserved rest. And to digest the dozens of the Inferii she'd no doubt eaten. As they continued, he realised they'd acquired an honour guard of sorts. Two Dementors flanked them on either side, one took up the rear and one led in front. All other Dementors shrank away from the one which took point.
Lily Luna stared at the black robed creature with a mixture of curiosity and nausea. "So is that one the big kahuna? The Queen Demon? What was it you called her, Camel the Easterbunny of Runes?"
"Yes, that's her. Ah, actually her name's Khamûl the Easterling, and she was once the ruler of the kingdom of Rhûn," Harry amended sheepishly. "I got the translation a bit wrong."
"Gee, what could've given that away?" she asked sarcastically. "I mean, it's pretty common for soul-sucking monsters to take on the name of cute fluffy egg-dispensing children's mascots, after all."
"Well they are called Nazgûl too – and that word sounds like one of the expressions Lily's 'wavy-gravy' parents would come up with: 'Oh Peter, it's so nazgool that you've helped our Lily-flower to see the light, daddy-o!'"
Lily Luna giggled. "And what light would that be?"
Harry waggled his eyebrows outrageously. "'Why the light of embracing her role as your freaky-deaky harem-slave and other assorted far-out debaucheries. Oy vey, that's so nazgool I could plotz!' Hmmmm not sure why they ended up so Jewish in my impression."
"I'm looking forward to meeting them once all this is over."
"This looks like the place they were last hunkered –"
"Get down!" shouted one of the officials, shoving the three teens roughly to the ground. The space where they were standing exploded into black and purple fire. Broken branches and chunks of tree trunks flew everywhere.
Harry dropped into an awkward roll and sprang half-upright, wand tracking desperately around to spot their attacker. Locking onto a dark shape, he let loose a chain of bone breaker hexes … which were casually swatted away as the figure moved out of the shadows and into the light.
"Bellatrix!"
It was indeed Bellatrix Black, the Valkyrie Beserker Bitch herself, in the flesh, in all her mad, bad and dangerous glory. She grinned down at the shaken five from her high point, madness dancing in her obsidian eyes.
This is bad, this is very very bad, worried the Otter. Three magically exhausted teens trying to take on the mighty Bellatrix Black at full strength. A Bellatrix Black who's no doubt spent the last few months doing nothing but hard training every single day ... what an evil fate …
Yet, at a second, closer glance, it became clear that Bella wasn't at full capacity. The girl was looking awfully scratched up and singed. Her left arm hung limp and useless at her side. It seemed as if she'd just escaped a vicious battle barely intact.
That's good news, commented the Lynx. In her injured state, she will have insufficient stamina or magical reserves to present a challen–
Harry dived to the left as another explosion of black and purple fire blasted his position of several seconds ago. His pause to take stock of the situation had very nearly turned him into barbeque. He felt the sickening, nausea-inducing residual energy of the dark curse wash over him.
Bella immediately followed up by casting a spell that hurled 20 glowing orange orbs down onto them. The group scattered to the wind just in time; as each ball hit the ground, or a rock or a tree or the remains of the perimeter wall, it exploded into red, liquid fire, eating through whatever it touched, dark steam hissing.
Or not, the Lynx conceded.
Oh great, whatever that is, it looks like the magical equivalent of napalm, the Otter noted sourly.
Tactical retreat would be the optimal strategy, advised the Lynx.
You got a way of doing that that doesn't involve us all being hexed in the back while we run away? asked Harry.
His feet stumbled as he scrabbled to find a defensible position. Getting dangerously close to magical exhaustion again.
And then the Dementors were upon her. Khamûl and her five underlings fell upon the dark witch from above, reaching out for her soul with their long, wizened fingers and rotting mouths. The girl shrieked and apparated back 50 feet.
"Expecto Patronem!" A large, silver hydra appeared in front of her. The seven heads bit viciously at the Dementors as they dived and wheeled, looking for a breach in the glowing white entity's defences. With liquid speed, the heads struck and snapped in all directions.
"Those creatures will not hold her back for long," announced one of the officials calmly. "Lord Malfoy, Miss Potter, Naho-sama, please stand back and recover your strength. I can see you are close to collapse. The two of us will continue this fight."
Harry was about to protest, but the two officials were already off, one racing around to flank their foe to the left and the other to the right. With shrill, high-pitched screams, the Dementors finally fled from the onslaught of the Hydra Patronus.
Bellatrix charged through the dissipating silver mist to regain her previous position, the high point which commanded the field. And spun as the earth beneath them gave a shuddering groan, then spewed forth rocks and rubble, which coalesced to form two enormous stone golems. The creatures wasted no time, grabbing huge blocks of stone that were lying on the ground (or tearing them directly out of the earth) and hurling them at the witch. Harry could see the two officials, hunked down in their respective positions, performing strange tai chi-like motions with their hands, brows furrowed in concentration.
The girl sqwawked and dived to avoid the stone missiles. And then the first golem was upon her. She dodged desperately, then fired off a curse that slammed into the golem like a freight train. Such was its mass though, that it was driven back a mere two feet. Quickly regaining its momentum, it lunged forward again, but Bella had had enough respite to pull out a broom from her pocket, unshrink it, and leap on board. The witch shot up into the air, and was quickly far beyond the golem's reach. Hovering 30 feet above it, she began casting furiously.
A shimmering lance of crackling black energy materialised over her head. With an aggressive jab of her wand, the bolt shot forward at incredible speed, piercing the golem in the chest. With a horrendous, deep baritone shriek, the stone animation exploded into slag. The official who was 'bending' it was hurled into the treeline by the force of the concussion wave.
Bellatrix gave a whoop of victory – followed by a shriek of terror as Khamûl seized her from behind and began sucking her emotions with great gusto. With a mightly heave, the witch managed to tear herself loose from the undead grip, but plummeted to the earth as she lost her hold on her broom. With a frustrated shriek, the Dementor tore the broom into two pieces and hurled them away. She then hurtled downwards after her prey.
Pop! Pop! With audible pops and cracks, Bellatrix vanished from her freefall and re-appeared half a foot from the ground. "Ooof!" The air was knocked out of her as she dropped the last bit of distance onto the hard stones.
Impressive, noted the Lynx. Apparition from freefall; and not a single splinch. Most impressive.
She wasn't down for long. Springing back to her feet, her wand leaped and pirouetted. A second energy lance appeared, but this time instead of aiming it towards the last golem, Bella shifted her gaze and fired it directly towards the second official. The man saw it coming a split-second later and desperately leaped for safety. The black missile struck his bolt-hole a moment later and detonated, the force of the blast hurling him through the air. The official howled as he rolled away down the hill. The second golem trembled, and then collapsed into a pile of inanimate rocks.
Bella heaved a sigh of relief. Her wand swifty conjured another Hydra which drove Khamûl away again.
"Looks like we're just in time for the party," came a familiar, drawling voice.
"Sevvie-pooh!" Bella squealed in delight. "What are you doing here? I thought you were taking care of business in Ame-gakure?"
"Finished early; came here to provide some back-up."
Bella beamed in an unhinged fashion.
"Dammit Snape, not you again!?" Harry snarled in frustration. "Why are you even here? What about your unbreakeable vow?"
"I only made an oath not serve the Dark Lord Voldemort, you snivelling rat," his former schoolmate sneered. "As you've no doubt already heard, there's new management in place now."
It seemed months of hard physical training and sunlight had worked wonders on the once sallow and gaunt boy. His frame had filled out, his shoulders broadened and his skin tanned lightly. His hair was cropped and less greasy than Harry had ever seen it. I looked like he'd just been on the raw end of a fierce fray too, bloody forehead, cheeks bruised, slight limp. One of the white Inferii followed him protectively.
The two Slytherins and the white creature took up a combat position, protecting Bella's flanks on left and right, wands pointed threateningly at their enemies … before Snape's wand casually swung to the left and cast a petrification hex. Bella's superb reflexes allowed her to sense and dodge the curse in a split second. She whirled to face her attacker, a retaliatory jinx on her tongue. Only to be clubbed in the back of the head at the same instant by the large, meaty fist of the Inferius. Even the fearsome Bellatrix Black had trouble deflecting simultaneous strikes at point-blank range, it seemed.
Harry, Lily Luna and Naho stared open-mouthed at Bella's sudden and unanticipated betrayal by her two allies. Until the glamours shifted and dispelled, revealing –
"Sirius! Narcissa!"
"In soundness of mind and sexiness of body!" Sirius replied, levitating his unconscious cousin and moving to join the rest of the group.
"Wow! I think we're going to have to title you Narcissa Black, the Mistress of Disguise!"
"Naturally," she sniffed in a faux-condescending tone, "one does not spend all that time learning appearance-modifying magic without picking up the odd impenetrable glamour or two."
"No kidding! You fooled everyone, even Bellatrix!"
"It wasn't difficult: I've known Bella all my life. And I've watched her and her 'Sevvy-buggins's' disgusting, vomit-inducing displays often enough to know what she'd look for." She cocked a perfect eyebrow. "You seem surprised. What did you expect? Andy's the hard-nosed head-kicker sister, Bella's the crazy bitch sister, and little Narcissa is the smart one," Narcissa preened, basking in the others' admiration.
"But how did you know what Snapie looks like these days?"
"An educated guess; if I'd appeared like he looked back in Hogwarts she'd've been on to me in an instant. But change a hairstyle, add a tan and a few pounds of muscle, and dob's your scutter. Wouldn't even matter if I was way off: Snape's out of his comfort zone, a stranger in a strange land, and out doing Merlin-knows-what dogs'-work every day. The only constant would be change." She flicked back a tangled lock of dark hair matted against her forehead. "Would've been a lot easier to use legilimency, but my sister's Occlumency is like a Nurmengard within another Nurmegard! I don't know anyone outside of Dumbledore who'd be able to Bruce force their way in. 'Course, the greatest mind shields in the world won't help you if you get suckered by a simple ruse," her voice dripped with disappointment at such inconstant vigilance.
At that point the two Imperial officials made their way cautiously into the clearing. A quick series of crude diagnostic charms (Lily was their healing specialist) seemed to indicate that the worst of their injuries were some burning, from Bella's black and purple fire, and a few cuts, scratches and bruises from when they had tumbled down the slope.
"That was some impressive fighting," Lily Luna praised. "How come you didn't say you could do magic?"
"You did not ask, Miss Potter," one replied primly.
"You've got me there," she admitted.
"No! You can't kill her! Please, Lord Black, I beg you for mercy!"
They turned to see a desperate Narcissa Black pleading with a grim-faced Pettigrew.
"She's already tried to murder me several times before. Now she's come with an army to try and murder us all! What will be next, a thermonuclear strike?" Harry demanded.
"I don't know what that is," Narcissa admitted, "but it doesn't have to come to that! We don't have to kill her to remove her from this conflict! She could be imprisoned, or placed in the muggle world, or obliviated, or have her wand arm removed! There are so many alternatives! Please, Lord Black, Please! She and Andy are my only sisters. Please!"
Harry looked into her pleading eyes and melted. He wasn't made of stone. "Okay," he conceded reluctantly, against his better judgement. "For your sake, your sister will live. But she can't stay here. Or in Europe. I won't have her involved in this war any longer, not in any capacity. For Bella, her fight is over, starting today."
He looked down at the trussed up and unconscious witch. A witch far too dangerous to leave wandering loose. He pondered what to do with her.
Why don't you do what you always did when faced with a difficult problem? drawled the Grim. No point messing with success!
That's … that's pure brilliance, Padfoot! Harry cheered.
Of course it is, the Grim replied smugly.
To preserve his own flagging magical reserves, he explained his final judgement on his wayward charge, and told Sirius and Narcissa which spells to cast.
"You've been a very bad girl, Bella," her Head of House pronounced. "And bad girls don't get any presents."
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A parliament of very slow, very full Dementors lazily floated back into Harry's bag.
"Is that all of those … things?" asked one of the officials fearfully.
Harry waved his wand in a tight cork screw. "Yep, that's the lot. Come on, I also have a very sleepy basilisk to collect. Best to get her in her nest before she drops off to sleep out there."
"Why is that?" inquired the braver official, as the group made its way back out to the lake. Harry had to hand it to him, the man barely shuddered as he stepped over numerous still or twitching corpses.
"Have you ever had to deal with a cranky 50-foot basilisk before? Trust me, it's a right pain in the ass."
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As Harry exited his Expanded Space bag after settling his pet basilisk into her nest for a nice long hibernation, his rodent danger-sense kicked in like a blow to the skull.
Danger! screamed the Dormouse. Flee!
"Incoming!" Harry shrieked, dropping to the ground and shielding his head instinctively.
Suddenly the park exploded into fire. Had there been one last wave of zombies, lying in wait to ambush any stragglers or survivors! His four companions belatedly dropped to the ground too as flames swirled around them. Very familiar magical flames, inducing a very familiar magical ecstasy. And a very familiar magical siren song. Sighing with relief, Harry stood, drinking in the last few precious microseconds of the phoenix fire that licked his soul, before it dissipated. All too soon it was gone, revealing a very familiar heptad of figures.
"Peter, my boy, never fear – the Order of the Phoenix is here to rescue you!" Headmaster of Hogwarts, Chief Warlock and Supreme Mugwump Albus Wulfric Percival Brian Dumbledore, big of nose and red of beard, declared grandly. His wand was clasped in one hand, the Sword of Gryffindor in the other. The old man seemed to have de-aged a good 60 years or so: his hair and beard were no longer white as snow, but a deep, fiery crimson, his slight hunch was gone, and he was now extremely wrinkled, instead of being one sentient mass of wrinkles.
Surrounding him in duelling stance were his most magically powerful supporters: Alastor Moody, Filius Flitwick, Newt Scamander, Porpentina Scamander-Goldstein, Rubeus Hagrid and Minerva McGonagall.
Seven people? I can't help but feel a bit jealous that the Headmaster was able to put together a party consisting of a multiple of seven, the Otter grumbled. The Arithmancy is strong in this one.
"Where are the foul miscreants?!" demanded Scamander. "I'm feeling positively Olympian right now! I even brought my liver-eating eagle for the occasion!" The impressive bird on his shoulder flapped its wings and screeched in anticipation.
Fawkes' and said Titanic eagle's large, extended wingspans formed the perfect backdrop to this dramatic scene.
Harry began a slow clap as his associates climbed shakily to their feet.
"A most impressive entrance for the Order of the Phoenix, Headmaster. Pleased as I am to see you upright and energetic once more, I'm afraid the Eye of Godric must be on the fritz. You and your acolytes are three hours late to the battle. Perhaps if you have a time turner you could go back and 'rescue us' for real? Three turns should do it, I think," he replied earnestly.
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"A new package for you, boss," announced Jim, hefting the parcel suspiciously.
"What is it?"
"Dunno, but looks foreign. There's all kinds of crazy scribblings all over it."
Curious, Hermione took the package and unwrapped it. "Huh … that's not something you get in the mail everyday." She extracted a large lump of coal from the bubble-wrap.
"Coal? Is it the Feast of Black Peter today? Why did nobody tell me?!" demanded Bob, glaring at his fellow HAHA members in outraged betrayal. "You all knew I'm 1/19th Dutch!"
Hermione was reading the attached letter with a frown. "Thanks Harry," she grumbled to herself, "just dump your problems in my lap and give me those puppy dog eyes until I fold."
Looking up at the others, she announced, "We have a problem. This lump of coal has been very naughty and needs to go to time-out." She held up the offending cluster of carbon molecules for their inspection. "Lord Malfoy wants it out of Asia and out of Europe. Permanently. So I'm going to find the worst, darkest, coldest, farthest place from here and drop it in. Then forget about it forevermore."
Bob eyed the coal thoughtfully. "It must certainly have done heinous deeds to merit such a punishment. I shudder even to speculate on what crimes a lump of coal may be capable of committing."
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"My word," the Unspeakable on duty exclaimed, "how did you get in he– oh, Director Crouch, it's you. Back again so soon?"
Hermione favoured the man with a glare that was half contempt, half boredom. "Unfortunately yes," she drawled. "Seems there were a couple of items that the Unspeakables saw fit to withhold from me the last time I was here. I'm here to retrieve them."
"I'm afraid I can't just let you requisition things like last time, Director Crouch," the 'guard' said 'regretfully'. "My, uh, superiors were quite put out by the DMLE seizing so many of the DoM's most valuable bric-a-brac – er, I mean research subjects. There's been all kinds inquiries and inter-departmental memos on the subject … plus the Department's recently suffered some damage due to certain unstable substances that somehow got loose, so a number of areas are not safe to enter …"
"You needn't worry about things above your paygrade," she chided, knowing full well the chaos her last visit has thrown the DoM and DMLE into. Revelled in it, more like. "Here's my authorisation." She lazily handed over the document.
The guard accepted the paper. "'Give the holder of this paper anything he wants, signed Minister Bagnold'. I guess we have no choice then," he sighed morosely. "Come along."
They strolled once more into the deepest, darkest depths of the Ministry, places were almost no living human had ever accessed.
"So, what can we get for the Minister today, Director?"
"I need the experimental time turners the DoM has been secretly developing. The ones that can take you back more than the five weeks' limit. Seems they weren't with the others you provided last time. No need to look so startled, young man, it was hardly as big of a secret as the Unspeakables liked to think it was," she lied.
The ashen-faced man wordlessly led her down through a dizzying labyrinth of strange and wonderful rooms, of all different shapes, sizes and colours. Eventually, he undid a complicated series of locks and screws and dragged open a heavy steel door at least three feet thick. The room beyond was perfectly spherical and its walls painted in checked azure and gold colours. They entered cautiously.
"Here they are," her host said in awe.
In the exact centre of the room stood a four-foot tall pillar with a glass dome over the top. Inside were two glistening golden machines on velvet cushions, one red, one purple. Hermione recognised the two Devices right away.
"Unfortunately," the mysterious man frowned, "they are still in their early stages of development. It's nowhere near complete."
"Any stability issues?"
"No, they're perfectly stable. Problem is, we've only managed to get them to transport the user as far back as two years. And we haven't found a way to change events within the timestream yet. So basically, they're just ordinary time turners that can take you back slightly longer than the usual. We're still stuck within a single, fixed loop of phenomena. And you can only stay at your time-point of destination for a maximum of half an hour, before the transphasic temporal beacon automatically returns you to your starting time-point."
"Good enough," she declared pompously. "I'll need both of the Devices. And all the equipment and tools used to build these two. Don't worry about providing a bag, I took the liberty of bringing one of those mokeskin bags I collected on my previous visit."
"Of course," the Unspeakable said unhappily.
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"Honey, I'm home!" Hermione announced.
Ron's head popped out from the kitchen door. "Wotcher. I was just whipping up a roast ostrich. You've got The Device?"
"Both of them," she said smugly. "And the equipment they used to make them. There won't be any more of these infernal contraptions floating around if I have anything to say about it."
"You're so fit when you get all triumphant like that," Ron growled huskily, advancing on her.
Hermione easily evaded his lunge, sidestepping with casual grace as he tumbled over the couch she'd been standing next to a fraction of a second beforehand. "Easy, Casanova. Business first, then pleasure. There's no way I'm playing find-the-Snitch with that thing in my Manor." She pointed at one very indignant Bellatrix Black, stuffed inside Umbridge's extra-large kneazle travel cage. Runes of unbreakableness etched into the wood and plastic of the carrier. The dark witch scowled and hurled silent invective at the two of them.
"Silencing wards, Ron?"
"Yep. Got sick of her constant bloody complaining."
"Well there's no more need to complain," Hermione addressed their captive. "Good news, Miss Black: looks like you'll be leaving us sooner than we thought."
The dark-haired woman raised an eyebrow inquisitively.
"No, no, of course we're not letting you go!" Hermione laughed. "How silly! No, we've finally decided what we're going to do to ensure you never raise a wand again! 'How is that good news?' I hear you mouth? It's good news to us," she said cheerfully, "since we won't have to deal with you anymore. Ta ta."
The was a flash of red, and Bella collapsed insensate.
"Well then, I have more good news for you. Found the perfect place in the muggle world to dump our baggage. Place's on the other side of the world from both Europe and Asia, extreme north-west coast of America. Pacific Ocean on one side, forest on another, mountains on another. Middle of absolutely nowhere. English-speaking, like you said. A little town called Forks. I picked it 'coz it reminded me of Fawkes," Ron announced.
"Of course it did." She smiled indulgently at him.
"It was either there or Phoenix, Arizona, but nobody should be subjected to muggle American country music," he shuddered, "not even Bellatrix."
"It was only the one time, Ron. I promised never to take you to another country music jamboree ever again in a million lifetimes, didn't I?" she said, patting his shoulder comfortingly. "Best just put it out of your mind. You want me to obliviate you, honey?"
Ron shook his head. "I'll just have to endure it. I'd rather not have any non-expert obliviator tinkering around in my head, if it's all the same to you."
"As you wish. You have the international portkey?"
"Arrived half an hour ago from the travel agent." He waved at a wooden plaque with a pair of antlers mounted upon it. "He said it was the sort of the thing that muggles did there. Make us more inconspicuous."
"I'm sure we'll blend right in," Hermione said sarcastically, eyeing the enormous horns that were half her height.
Ron finished his oven-roasted bird and had one of the house elves prepare vegetables and condiments and set the table, while Hermione focused her gigantic brain on learning the intricacies of setting time and place accurately. No way she wanted to end up in the sacred hut of some cannibal New Guinean tribe if she could help it. Finally, she felt she had an adequate grasp of the logic behind the settings.
After their meal, the expedition was prepared. Bellatrix, check. Portkey, check. Wands, check. Map, check. Muggle costumes to blend in (deerskin hats, flannel shirts, suspenders, stonewashed jeans, hiking boots), check.
"Twin Peaks." And with that activation phrase, the portkey hummed, and they were hurled clear across to the other side of the planet.
They were on the side of a dirt road. Coniferous trees surrounded them on all sides. In the distance they could see a cluster of buildings. Looking around, Ron nodded in satisfaction. "This is it all right, matches the pictures perfectly: the town of Forks, in Washing-machine. It's cold, miserable, windy, always cloudy and the rain never stops. Exactly like Scotland. She won't even notice the difference."
"Good work, Ronald. It's organisational skills like that which made me agree to date you."
"I thought it was the Firewhisky which made you agree to date me."
"Potato, Potahto."
"What do potatoes have to do with anything?"
"It was quite an epic night, wasn't it? I suppose if you're going to loosen all your morals and go wild for one night, the destruction of Voldemort is the best justification for it." She pulled out The Device.
"So why are we meddling in time? Isn't dumping her on the other side of the globe enough?"
"An extra layer of distance. Reduces the risk of our paths crossing accidentally. This way, she's not just as far away in space, she's also as far away in time as we can manage. Without performing the Rite of AshkEnte, anyway."
"Still haven't worked it out yet?"
"If you like, Ronald," she said sweetly, "you're welcome to take point on researching the arcane time and space magics of the Necronomicon. I certainly have enough on my plate to take care of, and would greatly welcome the lightening of my workload."
"That's fine," Ron said hastily. "We all know my feeble brain can't hold a candle to your genius." Then, changing the subject as quickly as he could, added, "So why aren't we going back to the time of dinosaurs and dumping her into the nearest pterosaur nest?"
"This version of the Device has a maximum range of two years into the past."
"And we're not going to split the universe or jump into another dimension or cause a world-ending paradox or anything like that?" he asked warily, eyeing the Device with considerable suspicion.
"Nope, Unspeakables haven't figured out how to do that yet. Right now it works like an overpowered time turner. Which means whatever we've done has already happened, and it hasn't destroyed the planet. So don't worry."
"Very well, if you're sure. I trust you."
"I'm sure. Close your eyes." With a low buzz and a burst of magical power, they were there. Or rather, then. "Alright, let's find a suitable patsy."
They strolled along down the road for some time, looking for a suitable opportunity. A number of passing motorists gave them strange looks. They must not see two young adults – dressed in full lumberjack regalia, one awkwardly carrying an impressively large set of antlers mounted on a plaque (and struggling to balance it in his arms without poking his eyes out), and the other one carrying a large cat-carrier cage – walking around these parts.
"Here, this place," Ron said confidently, pointing to the small house slightly off the main track.
"Why here?"
"Look at it. Clearly whoever lives here is single; no bird on the planet would let her husband let the place go like this. And it's far from the main village, which means he's probably a bit of a loner. So nobody'd be surprised or ask questions if a teenage daughter he's never spoken of before suddenly appears in his home."
"Shut up Ron– wait! That's … actually not bad reasoning. We might make an Auror out of you yet."
"Hah! Soon all shall be in Awe at my Auring!"
"Can I help you folks?" A tall, slender brown-haired man with the kind of prominent moustache the 1970's were famous for inflicting on the world, emerged from behind the hood of a police car parked in front of the house. He wiped his oily hands with a rag and tossed it over his shoulder nonchalantly.
"Excuse me, sir, but we'd like to speak to your wife," said Hermione innocently.
"Afraid you have the wrong place. I don't have a wife."
"Children, perhaps?"
"Ahh, no."
"Do you happen to have a friend or neighbour present with you at the moment?"
The man's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Just who are you? I want to see some ID, right now!"
"Certainly, officer. Here you go: Stupefy!"
Ron cast a Hominem Revelio, but it came up empty. They were the only people for some distance. They levitated the policeman's body into the dining room and lowered it onto the dinner table. Ron began muttering and incanting in a low voice, wand dancing gracefully over the man's forehead. Hermione took the opportunity to rifle through his pockets. Finding his wallet, she took it over to the study and began rifling through the papers on his desk.
Satisfied with her findings, she brought the cage to the sitting room and levitated Bellatrix onto one of the couches. Frowning at the petrified witches' robes, she muttered, "No, that won't do at all. Walking into the bedroom she was able to locate a large, worn t-shirt and shorts that would serve as pyjamas in the short term. She quickly changed the girl into the them, incinerating the castoff robes. Then she investigated the rest of the house.
"Done!" Ron called. "He's perfect. Name's Charlie Swan. Ex-wife who he barely keeps in contact with, and lives on the other side of the country. No other family, not many friends. Captain of the local Auror force. Upstanding pillar of the community and all that."
"I know," she said, holding up his driver's licence and the other papers she'd found. "Used to be married to one Renée Higginbotham Dwyer. She shacked up with some athlete after the divorce."
"He always wanted kids, but his wife didn't. Would be ecstatic to have a daughter in his life. And now he does. Congratulations, mate. It's this sort of moment that really makes the job worthwhile ya know? We're such humanitarians," he brushed away an imaginary tear. "Born while he was married, but he hasn't seen much of her since the divorce. They have a distant relationship, don't really know much about each other. She moved up here to strengthen their relations and get out of her Mum's hair … and we're done." Ron finished casting his mind magic and moved over to the unconscious Bellatrix. "And now for number two: Obliviate! Obliviate! Obliviate!"
While her boyfriend was busy wiping away every shred of Bellatrix's memories, and replacing them with new ones, Hermione worked her wand to set up a makeshift bedroom in the spare room. Levitating the spare bed from the garage into place, folding the sheets over it, moving everything the remotest bit girly in the house into the room to give it more of a lived-in feel.
"Done," panted Ron. "Mordred's shorts, that last one took a lot out of me." He slumped down into an easy chair to rest. "But probably not as much as it took out of her – she's going to be pretty blank and spaced-out for quite a while after this. Takes the mind a bit of time to get used to its new 'memories', especially since I've had to rebuild the whole thing from scratch. No time to put in much detail; I'm afraid Bella Swan here has led a pretty boring existence up 'til now."
"Bella Swan," mused Hermione. "I hope you do grow into a beautiful swan, Bellatrix. A sweet-tempered muggle swan, who wouldn't harm a hair on anyone's head. Fingers crossed."
"Dya reckon she'll manage to stay out of trouble?"
"I can only hope; there are no magical communities near here, right?"
"Nope; nearest one's a thousand miles away in a place called Ellay."
"Then she's buried in the heart of the muggle world. What trouble could she possibly get into?"
"Guess you're right, Hermione. Now all that's left to do is find this Renée Hide-bottom and give her a few memories too. I doubt she'd be as pleased as Charlie here to discover she has offspring. Not that it matters, 's not like she has to raise the crazy bitch. Strangely enough, the woman lives in Phoenix. It's a small universe."
"Kiss me!" Hermione demanded. She did so love it when Ron brought out his smart and competent side. It was rare, but she was trying to nurture it with positive reinforcement. Their lips met as they side-along apparated away.
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"Dirk?!" came the distant, tinny voice of his favourite (i.e., only) apprentice.
Dirk Murray dragged himself over to the Floo.
"Calling li'l ol' unimportant me by International Floo, boy?" Dirk smirked. "Must be costing you an arm and a leg."
"It's fine, the Japanese government's picking up the tab," Harry said dismissively.
"That so? In that case, I'm proud of you, sticking it to The Man like that! So what's this subversive Floo call in aid of?"
"Dirk? I, uh..."
"What's the matter, Peter? You know you can ask me anything."
"It's, uh... It's a little embarrassing..."
"Ohhhhh. I get it. You're almost 17 and you're starting to notice girls. Aw, crap. You don't have anyone to give you The Talk, do you?"
"Uh, no. But –"
"It's OK. I don't have any jobs this morning, so we can do that. I'll call it practice for when I have a son of my own. Now, the first thing you need to know is –"
"No! I don't need The Talk, really! It's just ..."
"Well? Spit it out! You're a good kid, Pettigrew, and I'm glad to help, but you've got to tell me the problem."
"It's, um, about my relationship with the dead."
"Oh! Professional talk! I totally missed that one. Sorry, Kiddo."
"So, um... I've done what you said and formed relationships with a ghost Headmistress and a bunch of Dementors and –"
"Stop! It isn't discussed, remember?"
"Right, but, um, I think I have to."
Dirk grimaced. He knew he didn't want to hear what Pettigrew had to say, but the kid was all alone in this, and stuck in a foreign country to boot ... "OK, go ahead. You're pretty much my apprentice. That means I have to hear you out."
"So, um, you may remember that we had a bit of a Dementor problem. Well, I managed to make contact with the eight rulers of the Dementors, over at Hogwarts. I convinced them to leave the country with me, as there were better pickings in the wild regions of Mahōnihon than in Britain, considering they were only allowed to eat the emotions of the prisoners of Azkaban. And the occasional school student," he added sourly.
"You're the one responsible for all the Dementors in Britain vanishing?!" Dirk asked incredulously. And then began laughing so hard he almost fell into the fireplace. "The DMLE and DCRMC have been going nuts trying to figure out what happened; it seemed like one day the whole hideous horde of them had just upped and caught the Knight Bus to Pluto!"
"I'm sure they're running around like headless cockatrices. More power to 'em, I say. But yes, to summarise, I've been sharing an Enclosed Space with the entire Dementor populace of Britain. Former populace. And we've had some long discussions. Where they came from, what they want, that sort of thing."
"This all sounds okay so far," Dirk said cautiously. He was glad the story was so tame. He wasn't exactly sure what he'd been expecting, but he was possibly the only necromancer around who didn't have some sort of 'special relationship' with the dead. It didn't seem to have cut into his ability to do his job, so he just kept his mouth shut and nodded knowingly when one of his peers hinted at that which wasn't discussed.
"Anyway, they've proven themselves right useful; we were attacked by an entire army of Inferii during our meeting with the magical government here. They were like nothing I'd ever seen or read about anywhere. The Dementors went right through them like a Cerberus through a daycare centre. Kissed half the bleeding lot of 'em."
"Describe the Inferii," his mentor ordered. Harry gave him a brief rundown of the battle, and what information they'd been able to gather about the strange white zombies.
"Hmmmm. Can't say I've ever heard of that particular type of Inferius," Dirk mused. "But then, I ain't never been to Magical Asia neither. You say they were vulnerable to Killing Curses and Dementor Kisses eh? Interestin'. So we know there's some sorta soul sittin' inside."
"Could you possibly have a chat with Master Dee and the rest of the Necromancy Guild for me? See if anyone knows anything more? There were probably 1000 of the bastards at least, maybe double that, I don't know. I was a bit distracted at the time. But I have a bad feeling that there's a whole lot more of them out there."
"Will do, kid!"
"Er, now about the other matter …"
"Say no more. No, you have to say more. What's the problem? Sure, that's a lot more Inferii and Dementors and ghosts than your average necromancer's likely to encounter, but I haven't heard anything too out of the usual. I think. It's hard to tell because it isn't discussed."
"Well, there's this Headmistress of the local magic school, right."
"Go on."
"Instead of having school ghosts like Hogwarts, the Headmistress of the school is a ghost. A really old one too, judging by how powerful her aura is. She's got these little glowing balls of energy that float around her and follow her wherever she goes."
"Attractive?"
"Extremely."
"Yah, I get it." Dirk had been right the first time when he thought he didn't want to hear any of this.
"The fact of the matter is, she's gone missing."
"Missing in what way?" Screwing his courage to the sticking plate, Dirk soldiered on, determined to see this uncomfortable conversation through to the end.
"I mean, she went to go look for the Emperor –"
"Emperor?"
"It's a long story. The gist of it is that she went to go protect him and nobody's seen hide nor hair of her since."
"And you're worried about your little girlfriend?"
"What? She's not my girlfriend!"
"Sure, Peter. No need to be ashamed, we're all necromancers here. Although I can't say I've ever been in that kind of situation. Nor have I ever wanted to. Or ever wanted to even think about it …"
"Hey, wait a minute –"
"Still a woman is a woman, ghost-woman or not," Dirk persevered, trying hard to be understanding, despite his own queasiness. "And an extremely attractive naughty-Professor-ghost-woman to boot! Good on you, I guess. I'm sure you'll have her cold, ectoplasmic body back in your arms in no time." He tried manfully to repress his shudders.
Pettigrew sighed. "Just find out what you can about the Inferii. And if there are any spells to track down wayward spirits, will you?"
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"There you are. Our shuseki daijin told Us We would find you up here."
Harry turned from his position, leaning over the railing of the observation deck, to regard his visitor.
"How can I help you, Your Majesty?"
"It is rather what We can do to help you." The Emperor slowly made his way over to join Harry. "Your journey will be hazardous, and your enemies powerful. You will need allies. Take these."
"Thankyou," Harry said politely, accepting the official-looking folder with gold kanji lettering. "What are they?"
"Letters of introduction from Us. There is one for Our vassal the Daimyo of the Land of Fire, deep within the wild regions. Young Hi-no-Kagutsuchi Naho is his niece, which will get you through the door, but these official requests will ensure his aid." He sighed. "A terrible civil war is brewing in the interior. We fear there is nothing that can be done to avert it. The whole area is marked off on magical and mundane maps as 'nature reserves', and there are many wards in place to prevent unauthorised personnel from entering … yet these regions have always been a violent and often lawless place. The risk of it spilling into Magical Japanese and Mundane Japanese societies is high.
He affixed Harry with a piercing gaze. "And the European interlopers are strengthening the side most likely to destabilise our entire country, magical and mundane. Perhaps your intervention may reduce the destruction. We hope so."
He paused for a while, gathering his thoughts.
"The other potential allies, though members of Mahōnihon, live in mundane Japan. They prefer the convenience of the city, no doubt. Unfortunately, this has caused Our mundane and magical governments no end of grief, owing to their inability to maintain the International Statute of Secrecy for any length of time. Their leader is the Grand Master Happōsai of the Anything Goes School of Indiscriminate Grappling, perhaps the most skilled and fearsome martial arts dojo in the country. He and his disciples would be a great boon to your efforts, should you convince them to ally with your cause."
"Not to mention having them far away in the middle of nowhere rather than in the heart of a muggle city would require far less damage control," Harry added with a smirk.
The Emperor inclined his head slightly. "The other is too bizarre a case to describe adequately. The individual and her 'associates' have been under surveillance of several magical and mundane state agencies for some time now. Our assistants will refer you to the relevant parties. There are letters of introduction from Us in that package as well. Unfortunately, Our ministers inform Us that several external organisations have been trying to seize control of this individual through various indirect means. Some of which are completely unknown to Us. They may cause you significant difficulties."
"My life has never been simple," Harry sighed. "Thankyou for your assistance, Your Highness, it is invaluable."
"Not at all. It is the least we can do, Lord Malfoy, since We cannot tempt you with the offer of a family member's hand."
"Yes … well, I mean … it's nothing against the Princess or yourself, you see … it's just that I have too many wives as it is …"
"Say no more. It is better to sleep on the roof than to share a bed with a group of bickering wives."
"Actually, there is one other thing you could do, if you'll forgive my presumption once more …"
"Speak."
"There is one more person who played a part in yesterday's battle. Without her efforts, our victory would not be certain. If you could see it in your royal heart to reward her as well …"
"Consider it done."
The two stood in companionable silence for a while, watching the reconstruction of the palace grounds below.
"Heavy is the head that wears the crown, Lord Malfoy," the Emperor said, out of nowhere. "If We may offer a word of advice – be good to your people, and they will stand with you through the greatest adversity."
"How do I do that?"
"One person at a time."
"Thankyou, Your Highness."
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"Tell me Professor, have you located all of You-Know-Who's you-know-whats?"
"Indeed I have, Mr Pettigrew. You provided the diadem and the diary. Fawkes has successfully retrieved the Gaunt Family Ring from Little Hangleton, the Hufflepuff Cup from the Lestrange family vault at Gringotts, the Slytherin locket from the Avery family vault at Gringotts, and the serpent Nagini from Sherwood Forest. That last one was rather exciting, I must say – she did not come willingly. The poor creature was most displeased at the interruption of her hibernation. All of the items have been destroyed, except for the locket and the snake, neither of which contain you-know-whats."
"Nagini's still alive? What did you do with her?"
"Our Acting COMC Instructor, Professor Kettleburn has taken her under his wing. She now abides in a specially-enchanted habitation next to the groundskeeper's hut. Professor Kettleburn has been most assiduous in recreating an ideal environment, I'm told. I also hear that many of the COMC OWL and NEWT students are delighted to have a bona fide magical viper to examine. Creatures of such size and intelligence are rare indeed. Obtaining the necessary paperwork from the DCRMC was a painful headache, but your proxy Madame Umbridge was able to speed up the process immensely."
Harry laughed and laughed. "Poor Nagini – reduced to a spectacle in a magical petting-zoo."
"A much preferable fate to being liquefied, I would imagine."
"Point."
"And if your 'experiment' with the Goblet was successful, then I very much doubt that whatever remains of Voldemort has the magical strength to create new you-know-whats. It takes great force of will and magic to carry out the ritual; never heard of a shade being able to achieve that. A greater worry is that Gellert will take inspiration from his example."
"Yikes."
"Indeed. I have been turning my mind to finding methods to counter that possibility."
"Like what, Headmaster?"
"I will be sure to let you know if I reach something concrete, Mr Pettigrew.
"So what are the Order's plans now?"
"I believe your original plan to approach the Daimyō and Kages of the 'wild regions' is a most excellent course of action."
"Better you than me, then. I'll give you the letters of introduction from the Emperor. If you're going directly into the belly of the beast, that frees me up to run some errands over in Mahōnihon. The non-wild bit."
"Oh? Doing what?"
"Trying to gather some allies that were recommended to me. That's if I can convince them to help. One lot are a group of some type of animagi, or something similar. That seems like my best bet to start off with. We have at least one thing in common."
"And what would that be, Mr Pettigrew?" the Chief Warlock asked genially, eyes twinkling.
"Uh, we're all Leos," Harry replied nervously.
"Is that so?" chuckled the-slightly-less-old-man. "Then I wish you the best of luck. Mars is rising near Leo."
"You too, Professor."
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"Another package for you, boss," announced Jim, hefting the parcel suspiciously.
"What is it?"
"Dunno, but looks foreign. There's all kinds of crazy scribblings all over it."
"What bizarre errand do you want us to run now, Harry?" Hermione grumbled to herself. She took the package and unwrapped it. "Huh … thankyou Harry, I love you too."
"Documents?" asked Bob. The other members of the HAHA gathered around to view the unboxing.
Hermione summarised the attached English letter. "It seems that, in recognition of Dolores Umbridge's invaluable aid to the Japanese government, which assisted them in withstanding a treasonous attempt on the Japanese Emperor's life, she has been awarded these by the Japanese Wizarding Board of Education."
She gestured to the three certificates, covered with kanji, and stamped with the gold-embossed seal of the Emperor of Japan himself. "Honorary Mastery in Charms, Honorary Mastery in Runes, and Honorary Mastery in Enchanting."
"Well done!" cheered Bob. "That will need to go up onto a wall!" Hurrying out of the Malfoy study, he scanned the walls of the manner until he found what he was searching for. Seizing the three pictures with the most impressive golden frames, he returned.
"Good idea," the grizzled old gym owner Jim complimented. Together they removed the Malfoy family photographs, objects of priceless sentimental value, and casually incinerated them, placing the mastery certificates therein.
"These are going straight to the Pool Room," Bob declared proudly.
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Bella stared out the window in silence.
It was beautiful, of course; she couldn't deny that. Everything was green: the trees, their trunks covered with moss, their branches hanging with a canopy of it, the ground covered with ferns. Even the air filtered down greenly through the leaves.
It was too green – an alien planet.
She went to the communal bathroom to clean herself up after her night of fitful rest. She looked at her alien face in the mirror as she brushed through her tangled, damp hair. Maybe it was the light, but it looked sallow, unhealthy. Her skin was pretty – it was very clear, almost translucent-looking – but it all depended on colour. She had no colour here.
Facing her pallid, unrecognised reflection in the mirror, she was forced to admit that she'd never fit in to her new hometown. Not that she'd ever fitted in in Phoenix, either. Maybe if she looked like a girl from Phoenix, she could work it to her advantage. But physically, she'd never measure up. She should be tan, blonde – a volleyball player, or a cheerleader – all the things that go with living in the valley of the sun. She didn't relate well to people her age. Maybe the truth was that she didn't relate well to people, period. Sometimes, she wondered if she were seeing the same things through her eyes that the rest of the world were seeing through theirs. Maybe there was a glitch in her brain. But the cause didn't matter. All that mattered was the effect. And today would be just the beginning.
Breakfast with Charlie was a quiet event. He wished her good luck for her first day at her new school and left, off to the police station that was his new wife and family. It was impossible, being in this house, not to realise that Charlie had never gotten over her Mum. That made things awkward.
Finding the school wasn't difficult, though she'd never been there before. The school was, like most other things, just off the main track. It was not obvious that it was a school; only the sign, which declared it to be the Forks High School. It looked like a collection of matching houses, built with maroon-coloured bricks. There were so many trees and shrubs she couldn't see its size at first.
"So, this is a lot different than Phoenix, huh?" some imbecile asked her, as she strode towards her first class.
"Very."
"It doesn't rain much there, does it?"
"Three or four times a year."
"Wow, what must that be like?" he wondered.
"Sunny," she said laconically, wondering how the useless dunce managed to keep breathing.
"You don't look very tanned."
"My mother is part albino," she replied dryly. The dolt studied her face with apprehension. That's it, take the hint and bury yourself under a garbage pile, you scruffy niffler-herder … wait, what in Mordred's name is a niffler-herder? And who's Mordred?
"Well, good luck," he said as she touched the handle of her classroom door. "Maybe we'll have some other classes together." He sounded hopeful. Ignoring the fool, Bella went inside.
The rest of the morning's classes passed in about the same fashion. It was later, sitting in the lunchroom, blithely ignoring the feeble efforts to make conversation attempted by the seven curious, moronic-looking lackeys that she'd somehow acquired without trying, that Bella first saw Them. They were sitting in the corner of the cafeteria, as far away from where she sat as possible in the long room. There were five of Them. They weren't talking, and they weren't eating, though They each had a tray of untouched food. They weren't gawking at her, unlike most of the other mouth-breathers, so it was safe to stare at Them. But it was none of these things that caught, and held, her attention.
They didn't look anything alike. Of the three boys, one was big, muscled like a serious weight lifter, with dark, curly hair. Another was taller, leaner, but still muscular, and honey blond. The last was lanky, less bulky, with untidy, bronze-coloured hair. He was more boyish than the Others, who looked like they could be in college, or even teachers here, rather than students. The girls were opposites. The tall one was statuesque. She had a beautiful figure, hair golden, gently waving to the middle of her back. The short girl was pixie-like, thin in the extreme, with small features. Her hair was a deep black, cropped short and pointing in every direction.
And yet, They were all exactly alike. Every one of Them was chalky pale, the palest of all the students living in this sunless town. Paler than her, the albino. They all had very dark eyes despite the range in hair tones. They also had dark shadows under those eyes – purplish, bruise-like shadows. As if They were all suffering from a sleepless night, or almost done recovering from a broken nose. Though Their noses, all Their features, were straight, perfect, angular. Devastatingly, inhumanly beautiful. They were faces you never expected to see except perhaps on the ages of a fashion magazine. It was hard to decide who was the most beautiful – maybe the perfect blonde girl, or the bronze-haired boy. Suddenly he looked at her, the thinner one, the youngest, perhaps. His dark eyes flickered to hers. He looked away quickly, more quickly than she could, though in a flush of embarrassment she dropped her eyes at once. In that brief flash of a glance, his face held nothing of interest – it was as if she had called his name, and he'd looked up in involuntary response, already having decided not to answer.
"That's Edward and Emmett Cullen, and Rosalie and Jasper Hale. The one who left was Alice Cullen; they all live together with Dr Cullen and his wife," one of Bella's minions whispered under her breath. She glanced sideways at the beautiful boy, who was looking at his tray now, picking some Jewish bread-thing to pieces with long, pale fingers.
"They are … very nice-looking." Then cursed herself for sounding so retarded.
"Yes!" unnamed minion #2 agreed with a vapid giggle. "They're all together though – Emmett and Rosalie, and Jasper and Alice, I mean. And they live together."
"Have they always lived in Forks?" Bella asked, racking her brains for memories of one of her summers here. For some reason, she was feeling particularly scatter-brained this morning. She hoped it, and the pounding headache, would soon pass.
"No," said insignificant minion #3 in a voice that implied it should be obvious, even to a new arrival like her. Bella absently made an mental note to arrange for this impudent peon to suffer some sort of spinal 'accident'. "They just moved down two years ago from somewhere in Alaska."
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The final bell rang at last. She walked slowly to the office to return her paperwork, or some such fool thing that achieved nothing but waste her precious time. The rain had drifted away, but the wind was strong, and colder. She wrapped her arms around herself. When she walked into the warm office, she almost turned around and walked back out.
Edward Cullen stood at the desk in front of her. She recognised again that tousled bronze hair. He didn't appear to notice the sound of her entrance. She stood pressed against the back wall, stealthily waiting for the receptionist to be free. He was arguing with her in a low, attractive voice. Bella quickly picked up the gist of the argument. He was trying to trade from sixth-hour Biology to another time – any other time. She just couldn't believe that this was about her. It had to be something else, something that happened before she entered the Biology room and was forced to partner with him. The look on his face must have been about another aggravation entirely. It was impossible that this stranger could take such a sudden, intense dislike to her.
Unless he's jealous of my prowess at Biology, she pondered. Just another fragile-ego'd male who can't stand a woman beating him at anything. And nobody beats me at anatomy. A vicious smirk twitched at the corners of her lips. Oh yes, Bella Swan was extremely knowledgeable about anatomy.
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"So, how was your first week of school, honey?" Charlie asked in a disturbingly-maternal manner when he arrived home, switching on the porch lights as he entered. Not that he was home late, the sun set so early here that it was dark by 5pm.
"Fine," Bella lied, voice distracted, too preoccupied to humour the moustachioed cretin she was forced to share a domicile with. She was busily compiling an extensive list of her foes, those who deserved only the most painful, humiliating and long-lasting of her (heretofore unknown) repertoire of horrific vengeances.
She wasn't quite sure where all of these deliciously delightful ideas were welling up from, but she wasn't complaining. Her enemies sure would be, though. If they were in a position to speak at all. Well, 'enemies', irritants, nuisances, hangers-on, parasites, bootlickers, lickspittles, anyone who had pissed her off in some fashion over the past week, really. Or even made her life slightly inconvenient, deliberately or no. The fool who'd come within a whisker of killing her by almost running her down with his vehicle after school, for one. That jackass who'd dared to speak to her on her way to class on Day One, for two. Unimportant minion #2, who'd dared to sass her mistress at lunch. Or was it unimportant minion #3? No matter, all seven of them deserved to make the list for interrupting her meals constantly and being thoroughly unhelpful in coughing up information concerning Edward Cullen and his cronies. Edward Cullen.
Bella put down her pen and considered the odd boy. Sneer at me in the middle of the lunch hall, will you? Be a self-absorbed, stuck-up git during Biology class, will you? Have the temerity to try and avoid classes with me, will you? Push me down onto the bitumen to 'save my life', as if I were too incompetent to simply step out of the way of that oncoming van, will you?
Oh yes. She'd have to prepare something extra-special for Edward Cullen.
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