Authors' Note

Well, well, well. What do we have here?

So you've found us then? Stumbled your way in our little den of -

Way to make it sound creepy man.

Welcome to our first foray into fanfiction.

Nice Alliteration.

Ta my dude. Anyway, as mentioned, this is our first story together. We're two friends that love writing and love Harry Potter.

We do indeed. So we thought, why the heck not, and produced this monstrosity. (An affectionate term.)

And we thought why not share our little abomination (an affectionate term) with fellow fans or fiends.

Thus, here we are!

Chapter One: The Part Where Ragnorok Hits Rural Lincolnshire* (The Midlands do exist)

It has often been assumed that great quests, considerable challenges of character and endurance, are always bequeathed to the most upstanding of heroes. Figures of strength and nobility, with relentless dedication to a mighty cause. What few realise, or perhaps just don't want to admit, is that the cause itself is of little importance; usually deemed 'the greater good', whilst doing its level best to avoid any questions of exactly which greater good, or good for whom. What really matter are the individuals who carry it out. The ambition and strength and, more often than not, pure tenacity with which they conduct themselves so that their own understanding of what is right can prevail.

It is with seemingly great misfortune, therefore, that very early one morning whatever culturally ambiguous deity was using the world as its playpen appeared not to get the memo, as one of the greatest expeditions ever to have occurred almost literally fell into the lap of two pyjama-clad teenagers.

'It's starting!' Ella shouted excitedly, before wincing at her own volume.

Her friend Adele's parents were upstairs, asleep, and she didn't want to wake them. It had been hard enough to convince her own parents that a Harry Potter movie marathon was absolutely essential to her school career, a necessary de-stressing ritual in all the panic of exams. There had been a lot of umming and ahhing during this explanation, and at one point, Ella had been worried she would need to crack out the PowerPoint Presentation she and Addy kept on standby for such occasions. Or the interpretative dance number, but that was only as an absolute last resort. She'd look ridiculous without Addy there to do the lift.

It was nearing 2:00AM by this point and most reasonable individuals were tucked up in bed, dreaming of farmyard animals or turning up to work with no trousers on. Fortunately, the pair prided themselves on being thoroughly unreasonable, or, a little awkward as some might say. Forward planning, Addy declared, was for gumps. Hence, it had already been quite late at night when Ella had driven over to rendezvous with her friend for an evening/morning of pure J. K. Rowling magic (which they were definitely not too old for, despite what her mother may say). Two movies later, they showed no signs of slowing, despite the dark circles that were slowly forming beneath the girls' eyes.

'Hold the damn fort,' Addy yelled back, clearly less concerned about her family's week-night sleeping schedules than Ella was. 'You're gonna need to pause it. I'm having a situation with the hot-chocolate maker.'

Ella rolled her eyes amusedly.

'Have you tried turning it off and on again?'

She received no reply. Her friend was both technologically inept and a very stubborn host. She'd accept no aid in the kitchen until she'd figured it out herself. Ella couldn't help the fondness that washed over her then, as she imagined Addy attacking said hot-chocolate maker with a spoon and threatening to put it up for adoption. Still, time was ticking. Ella leant down from the sofa and reached to pick the remote up, pausing the film mid-way through the opening credits. She smiled a little to herself, knowing full-well that Addy would make her rewind them again to watch from the beginning. All twenty-four seconds of it.

Ten minutes later, Addy walked through the living room door, sporting a leopard print blanket cape and clutching two steaming mugs of hot chocolate in her steady hands.

'Just decided to turn it off and on again,' she said, handing Ella a mug and plopping herself down next to her. 'It was a stroke of genius on my part, really. Could you rewind it please?'

An hour or so into the movie, and both girls were grinning with the mania of die-hard fans as they watched their beloved characters interact on screen; visiting Hogsmeade for the first time, exploiting the Invisibility Cloak for general shenaniganry and, most importantly, Hermione giving Draco a shiner that he would remember for the rest of his life. Tiredness had begun to set in, but they were determined to power through at least the rest of Prisoner of Azkaban, if not Goblet of Fire.

'Gary Oldman is a top-notch bloke,' Addy noted, scrolling through the actor's imdb. 'Did you know that his sister plays Big Mo in EastEnders?'

'I do,' Ella replied. 'Because you've told me the past three times we've watched this film.'

Ella herself was concentrating on the performance of the newly instated Michael Gambon as Dumbledore. She had mixed feelings about Gambon, having preferred the choice of Ian McKellen for the old twinkly-eyed wizard after Richard Harris had passed. She understood and respected why McKellen had declined, what with Harris' contempt towards him as an actor, but couldn't help but feel that McKellen would have absolutely nailed the role. After all, look at what the man did with Gandalf.

'You're pondering Gambon again, aren't you?' Addy asked, closing her tabs on the family iPad and popping the device down on the arm of the sofa, next to a well-read and well-loved copy of the Prisoner of Azkaban. The girls were planning on doing this sleepover properly, and that meant surrounding themselves with various merchandise. All seven books were dotted around the living room, with the illustrated copies of the first three books taking precedence at the centre of the rug. Addy had made sure that her editions of Quidditch through the Ages and Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them were on hand for impromptu fact checking, while Ella had brought her own beautifully bound copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard from home, along with her wand and the quidditch jersey which she wore to bed.

'I still think that he's a good choice, despite the whole HARRY DIDYA PUT YER NAME IN DA GOBLET OF FIYAH incident' she continued, sounding more like Brian Blessed than Michael Gambon but rolling with it anyway.

'Yeah, I know. And I do think he's good at playing the darker side of Dumbledore when needed. I just don't think he has the same sort of gravitas that McKellen or Harris provide. Mind you, he is good as playing Dumbledore as quite young and spritely, which I don't think Harris could have done, magnificent as he was.' Ella responded.

'I agree, but Harris did manage to sport some spectacular robes - that man can rock a cloak like nobody's business. It's wizardry in itself. Plus, I think that he was excellent in the first two films he did, introducing Harry to the Wizarding world and such-like. A wise-Grandpa figure.'

This was one of many Harry Potter based debates they rehashed in one another's company. Others included the pairing of Harry and Ginny ('I'm just not a fan of the two together, I think he'd be good with Luna.' 'I actually think Ron would be better with Luna.' 'Woah there.') and which book was better, with Addy strongly favouring the third ('Sirius Black and time travel! Hermione hits Draco!') and Ella rooting for the second ('They're still so young and adorable! Harry gets a sword! DOBBY!').

Time and time again they bickered over fan theory, casting choices and the old 'is Snape good or bad' discussion, which was often resolved with the conclusion that he was an arsehole, but ultimately a hero. After deliberating Gambon's Dumbledore for a little while, they reached the scene where the Grim reveals himself to be, in fact, Sirius Black. This revelation prompted raucous cheers from the girls until Ella once more remembered Addy's sleeping family.

'Alright, I'm going to ask it. Which Marauder do you think we'd be?' Ella said tiredly, watching David Thewlis and Gary Oldman hug it out as Sirius Black and Remus Lupin respectively, and thinking to herself that they would have made the ultimate couple. But then Tonks. But then Wolfstar.

'Well, I know who you'd be, but it just so happened that I prepared for this very instance about thirty seconds ago,' Addy replied, once more scrolling through the iPad. 'You don't just keep me around for my good looks. Check your phone, I've sent you a link.'

'What do you mean you know who I'd be? I'm indefinable-'

'-ah yes, a very enigma,' Addy affirmed.

'-I cannot be categorised,' Ella finished, getting up to unplug her phone from where it sat charging. Her face fell when she checked the battery. 'Oh, crap. Twelve percent. I forgot to turn the plug on.' She left her phone where it was, flicking the switch and squatting by it to see what Addy had sent her. Opening the messenger app, she rolled her eyes with a grin. 'Of course it would be a Buzzfeed quiz, how did I not see that coming?'

'A must, if we are to seek out great and inordinate truths about our character. Pun intended. Buzzfeed knows all,' Addy said, solemnly. 'There is no other way, Ella, but this.'

'I'm so greatly, greatly ashamed for ever doubting the omniscient powers of Buzzfeed. I hope the quizzing overlord forgives me for such a heinous act of betrayal' she said, opening up a quiz entitled: Answer These Seven Questions and We'll Reveal Which "Harry Potter" Marauder You Are.

'Well, now you're just being sexist. Who's to say it's not an overlady?'

'Well now you're just being speciesist. Who's to say it's not an overdolphin?'

'Well now you're being -

'Addy, shut up and take the damn quiz.'

'Noted.'

The pair settled down in relative silence to find out which Marauder they were, Addy briefly getting distracted by a trending quiz that determined your cheese type (integral information, wait, what if she ended up being mild cheddar?), before deciding to bank that one for later to send to her sister.

Prisoner of Azkaban was still playing on television in the background, Dumbledore quietly encouraging Hermione to use her time-turner so that she and Harry could save 'more than one innocent life'. Goddammit Dumbledore, could you be any more cryptic?

As Ella began to take the quiz, choosing her preferred house (Ravenclaw of course, Pottermore never lies) she noticed that the television had begun to buffer, flickering with static that she hadn't seen since she'd last watched Return of the Jedi on video (which immediately had her planning a Star Wars marathon for the near future).

'Ad, your TV's freaking out a little.'

Addy looked up. The screen was dancing between colours, black, white, green, red, occasionally pausing on the film itself, a frozen picture of Hermione clutching the time-turner.

'I told dad that we needed to get a new DVD player,' she remarked, shimmying off the sofa and moving closer to the screen.

'Maybe there's a scratch on the disk?' Ella offered. As Ella spoke a noise began to emit from the TV, an aggressive digital static that grated against her nerve endings, making her wince.

Addy gritted her teeth as she attempted to lower the volume manually on the box, but alas, the sound continued.

'Bloody tits, turn it off Ella.'

Ella reached for the remote and pressed the power button but found that it made no difference. Perplexed, she tried again, to no avail. She took off the back casing of the remote and switched round the batteries before attempting it once more. Nothing.

'It's not working.'

'Whack it on the arm of the sofa, that usually does the trick.' Addy replied, rubbing her face irritably.

Muttering something under her breath about violence against household objects, Ella did as Addy suggested, gently patting the remote afterwards as if to make up for her abuse. Still nada.

'Right, that's it. I'm unplugging the damn thing. I'll rejig it all in the morning.' Addy paused, noting the clock. 'Well, later in the morning.'

She advanced towards the socket in order to unplug the television but was met with a sudden cold blast of air coming through the nearby window. The force of it sent her reeling and she stumbled over. Her limbs flailing with the grace of a newborn deer onto the carpeted floor, the corner of a hardback Order of the Phoenix jabbing into her upper thigh, like the pants of teenage boy that'd just discovered Baywatch.

'Oof. What the- that sent me arse over tit!'

'The window's open,' Ella said, long-familiar with her friend's wonderfully dramatic antics (the girl could not trip without looking like a Shakespearean character on-stage) and already moving towards her to help her up. 'I could have sworn I shut it earlier.'

'Well, apparently not.'

Ella frowned. She distinctly remembered closing the window a couple of hours ago. Despite it being August, English weather was never quite up to scratch and the evenings were almost always cold. Plus, the very task had been a struggle for her. Addy's parents had recently replaced their windows (the old ones were almost falling out) and the new handles were stiff with disuse. Her five-foot two stature didn't help the issue either, as she stood on the very tips of her toes to reach the top sheet of glass, body smushed (a technical term) against the windowpane like a short-sighted bird.

She walked over to the window, shivering a little bit at the cold air that seemed to be gushing through the crack, and reached up to shut it but found she couldn't. She pulled the white handle forward with all her might, tiptoes lifting off the floor as she dangled from the plasticised handgrip like a deranged yoyo.

'Ad, can I have a little help here?' She said, voice slightly strained as she continued to pull. Her biceps were taut under the pressure. 'You need to tell your parents they were ripped-off with these windows. Badly.'

Before Addy could move to help her friend, the window shattered, shards of glass skimming the surface of her living-room carpet and table like jagged snowflakes. By some unknown force, Ella shot back, almost bowling into the unlit fireplace. Her shoulder slammed against the brick wall, impacting the surface with an almighty crack of bone and delayed snap of tendon. Ella's eyes shut as she clutched her shoulder, groaning as a cold ache began to writhe its way through her upper body, sharpening into an intense burn as it crawled along her nerves.

The cold wind rushed in with renewed vigour, as if their attempts to quell it had only angered it further. The girls could almost see the gusts, aggressively swirling and twirling, gathering momentum. A taciturn howl unfriendly to their ears lifted papers and knick-knacks: the fruit-bowl, the cordless telephone, knocking them against walls and caressing them against surfaces embedded with glass. It blustered around the room, lost and wailing, its cruel assault biting at the girls faces.

'I think you're right,' Addy yelled, her voice competing to be heard over the savage storm, 'they definitely got ripped off. What the balls is going on?'

'I don't know' Ella groaned, clutching at her shoulder, which was now wet and warm with blood. 'I'd say hurricane but it's rural Lincolnshire. Armageddon can't have started this early.'

'You're hurt!' Addy exclaimed, stumbling over to her friend and noticing her slowly reddening nightshirt. Airborne shards of glass pricked at her exposed skin: wasps in a sticky summer heat. 'Come on, we need to get out of here.'

Addy offered Ella her hand who took it, pulling herself up with a silent wince. She'd climbed enough trees as a child to know when she'd broken a bone, and her shoulder was a dirty break. She gritted her teeth as she followed her friend, hand in hand, squeezing Addy's palm ever-so-slightly when she felt a particularly painful throb, but staying as quiet as she could. Addy may joke like her life depended on it but she was a worrier, especially when it came to those she cared about, and fiercely protective. Ella didn't want to add to the panic she could already feel radiating off of her.

While they were making their way to the door, the girls noticed the books on the floor begin to slowly peel back with the drive of the wind. Paperbacks first, covers sluggishly opening to expose the first few pages. Then hardbacks, whose paperboard covers dropped against the carpet like dead weight. The books began to flutter in motion, flitting swiftly from page to page as if being read by an invisible force. As the hostile onslaught of the wind raged on, the paper began to tear from the books, hoisting them into the air like a plethora of long-forgotten kites. The books began to rip and shred: dust-covers mutilating themselves, violently tearing from their home, chapters lifting themselves from their binding, breaking free into the open like liberated prisoners. The air was cluttered with thousands of pages, darting aggressively with the motion of the wind.

The two girls found themselves struggling to move against the wind's momentum, their legs slowing and straining as they fought their way to the door. They pushed against the belligerent drag that seemed to want them at the room's centre, reaching with all their might for the door handle until they themselves were swept off their feet.

Ella swore, the wind arresting her injured shoulder as she began to rotate in the air amid the pages and other miscellaneous items from Addy's home. She was beginning to feel lethargic, the blood coming out in gushes now, and the pain of her splintered bone prompting a dizziness and nausea that wasn't helped by the repetitive spinning motion of the wind. She knocked against the airborne coffee table, forgotten mug of hot-chocolate sloshing the last dregs over her nightshirt, nearly blacking out from pain as the hard wood jammed into her shoulder.

Addy sailed violently through the air, moving towards what appeared to be the eye of the storm at the centre of the room. She grabbed at one of the ceiling lamps as she was dragged across the room, managing to cling onto a single metal branch from her mother's pendant light. She saw Ella ahead of her, caught in a violent gust. Her eyes were shut, and she was being rocked back and forth by the spiralling gale. The pages began to stick together on the ceiling above her, the ink running across the yellowed paper, coagulating to form a twisting whirlpool of midnight blue. She could hear voices now, above the wind, screaming and yelling in fear, foreboding groans, low moans and what sounded to Addy like running water. The wind was dragging Ella closer and closer to its centre, her splayed body near limp from blood loss and nausea. Addy watched as Ella entered the maelstrom, legs first, her lower body gradually disappearing from view.

'No, no way. Not going to happen.'

Cursing, Addy let go of the ceiling light and surged towards her friend, grabbing her hand just in time to be swallowed into the portal too.

*For all those non-English readers, Lincolnshire is a rural county, mostly fields and sheep. It's the second largest in England, situated in the East Midlands. Homeland of the great Lincolnshire sausage (Not a euphemism.).