in_the_blue | Writing Challenge

Magic. Now what defines it? Wands? The slight of the hand and the heart changes to a spade?

Nope. New life is magic in how it transfigures not just the people involved but the entire world.

Obliviate! It makes me forget. I know I used to have a life before motherhood ... yet I cannot remember a time when two small faces were not a part of it.

Clarificus! Okay, so there were such things as dandelion seedheads ... but now I see them. Fine, so blossoms bloomed pink on the apple tree in the yard. Now I see cerise confetti in swirls. Great, so I would buy a cauliflower for dinner ... now I am shown (quite loudly and enthusiastically) that it is a complicated fractal pattern. Look Mum; just like looking at a Christmas Tree from above!

My kids are magic in that they have transformed me. They have opened my eyes to all kinds of new wonders.

Regresso! I am back to looking at things how a child sees them. Hearing how they hear. Tasting how they taste. Seeing how they see.

Speaking how they speak ... um ... Parseltongue would be easier.

This morning I was sadly informed by one distraught daughter, "I bent my rattler on the att-o-tutto rack and it snapped all up and the mibs fell out"*

The magic was ... I knew what she meant!

And yes, ask any other parent ... we WOULD stupefy then given half a chance!!

*(Translation for the curious: My cardboard tube with the black-eyed beans bent when it hit the potato rack. The beans fell out and it no longer rattles. Got any tape? If so ... fix it, Mum!)

Charming! It always fascinates me when mums can translate toddler....

There is such magic in the way she moves. I watch her for hours at night while she’s asleep, her hair floating over the pillow in a striking fit of silvery silk, each breath moving the soft curves of her chest gently up and down, up and down, quiet dream-induced laughter forcing a grin onto that set of lips that like to pout in mock sternness.

There is much magic in her actions: when her eyes flash in anger or reproach, and I hear the softness of her accent suddenly embittered: there’s magic in that. Yes, yes, there’s magic in her innate charm; one who is part-Veela can’t escape that assessment. But that’s not what makes her magic to me. No, not at all.

When she holds me. When her arms wrap around me. When her hand, tiny and warm, sits in mine. When her lips brush against mine. When her fingers play over my skin. When she whispers into my ear; when she covers my eyes with her hands. When she faces me and looks into my eyes and tells me she loves me in her own language, her own tongue. When she laughs and it sounds like bells pealing at a faraway church: this is the greater magic.

Any witch or wizard can wave a wand and make a bouquet of flowers, or brew a love potion, or make themselves invisible. It’s ordinary, common, every-day spellwork.

But only Fleur makes my heart race this way.

I wis yo utwo the best of times t ocome. *toasts*

*waves* Hello! I play Hagrid and Molly Prewett at Milliways and saw the backroom post.

Fandom is Harry Potter, word length, including title is 299, though I chopped it down from a fic twice as long. Hopw it's okay.

Things That Can Never Be

I show not your face...

What would he see, if he were to look now? He had no doubt that he had the fortitude to withstand any charms the mirror might weave around him. He reflected back upon his life and tried to puzzle out what vision he might find within the glass. Twenty years he knew with certainty that he would have seen himself, in Death Eater’s robes, proudly donning the mask. Fifteen years ago, he might have seen his arm, unblemished by the Dark Mark, which by that time was the blight of his existence. Two years ago, he might have seen the same, or else at least a classroom free of Harry Potter, staring at him with loathing out of Lily’s eyes, but with James’s face mocking him.

What would he see today?

It was no small feat to gather the strength to find out. Was he as prepared to face the image of the thing his heart most longed for as he supposed? He had given up on hope of being truly happy, being redeemed, long ago... did he even have a heart after all of the things he had seen and done?

Well.

There was one way to find out, wasn’t there? He took a deep breath, only to let it out in a hiss as Professor McGonagall called out for help in vanishing the huge chess pieces from the large chamber that had been made to resemble a chessboard.

He stopped briefly before exiting the room, and looked back. Perhaps it was best this way. There was no point in seeing images of things that could never be. He made his choices in life, and nothing some mirror showed him would change that.

He didn’t look back again.

Wow...what would Harry see...??

*walks away chewing on nails and pondering this most excellent question*

Very thought provoking. I like it.

Kitt sat quietly to himself, just outside his motel room. The weather was warm. He almost thought it felt muggy, but given the drought, he figured that was only his own sweat if anything at all. His eyes were half closed as the sun was setting, but there - there, his gaze was focused. Gold, shining - he held it between both hands, in his cupped palms, barely able to believe what it was.

Concentrated magic.

The lock-it held magic dust, directly from the Xanthian Magic Dust Village. Pounds of it. Fifty. Perhaps more, as there were no exact measures. Enough that, did he want to, he could have four wheels instead of two feet, there where he sat. He could be both himself as he was and himself as he used to be. He could change, shift, have both forms at his disposal, and yet it almost seemed to be an anticlimax.

He had risked so much for this tiny bauble. He'd risked too much. He would've been content, though not happy, with only humanity at his disposal. Why had he struggled for this little touch of magic?

Being complete wasn't so important. Not when it was compared to being alive.

He reached up to fasten the necklace about his neck, tucking the lock-it itself under his shirt as Michael stepped out of his motel room.

"Hey, buddy," Michael greeted. "Ready for some dinner?"

"Of course," said Kitt, deciding magic wasn't worth so much at all.

‘No, you’re not concentrating!’ *snap* Wooden wand slapped against wooden tabletop.

‘But I’m tiiiii-iired!’ Medeni whined, proving the truth of the statement, as she had discovered long ago that gritting her teeth and ‘taking it like a man’ produced far better results with her tutor.

‘If you can do this while you’re tiiiii-iired, you’ll be bloody brilliant when you’re awake,’ Sirius mocked her, scowling back over folded arms. ‘Do it again, and focus this time. I know you can do it, I don’t know why you don’t.’

Something about the way he said that clicked inside Medeni’s head. She pushed her fifth-year revision notes to one side and looked back at her tall Welsh Transfiguration coach with surprised eyes. ‘You... do? I mean... how?’ In the back of her mind, she snarled at herself for having that absurd, distracting pit-a-pat reaction fluttering in her stomach. She thought she’d trained herself out of it, but every time she looked at the thick, wild black hair and coffee-deep eyes....

Sirius shifted in his seat, his stern expression cracking about the edges. ‘Beeecause... you’re very smart. I’ve seen it. You did persuade me to tutor you.’ He looked away from the younger girl, but her questioning hazel eyes and auburn hair, so atypical for a Welshwoman, hovered in his memory. Ridiculous... she’s only a fifth-year. Stop it, Black, you’ve got more appropriate interests. Ffwl. No wonder James twits you so often. His discomfort translated into reinforcing his stern tutorial frown.

Medeni noticed the change and schooled her own features. ‘Right, I’ll try it again. Trying to get everything right at the same time....’ She frowned at the large radish before her, lifted her wand, spoke ‘Mutatio’ – and a tiny rabbit kit sat on the table instead.

Magic swirled around the two of them.

I was overjoyed to see ‘Magic’ as the theme. I have tons of magical bits in my stories that could be brought out. This has been a favorite ever since I wrote it a year and a half ago. Featuring the most powerful magic I’ve written. It was 996 words down to an agonizing 363. This is from my HP AU, featuring Sirius and his goddaughter, Cayane. Sirius’ PoV. Rating: G

***

I woke in complete darkness.

Azkaban.

“NO!” I screamed in despair.

A moment later, I realized there were no Dementors. It couldn’t be Azkaban. Bringing myself under control, I summoned light. I laid upon a pallet in a featureless underground chamber. A low passage leading into darkness seemed the only way out.

I rose from the pallet, hesitating to enter the tunnel. I knew enclosed spaces could bring back the shadows… Cursing my weakness, I steeled myself and entered the tunnel.

After a time, I smelt fresher air coming from above. Feeling the ceiling, I discovered an opening covered by grass. I gratefully pulled myself through.

I stood on a empty plain under an ominous sky. The only sound a tepid wind rustling the dry grass… Was I dreaming? Nothing living could be seen... Was I alive?

‘Quit acting the fool, Black!’ I told myself furiously, ‘There are no hidden chambers in the Plains of the Dead!’

Suddenly, Cayane’s high voice shattered the silence, calling my name desperately. My heart leapt wildly. Without thinking, I shifted into Padfoot and sped in the direction of her voice. The landscape blurred into an endless band of gray, I smelled nothing except the musty grass… it made my fur stand on end.

I saw nothing, smelled nothing, heard nothing... Had I hallucinated her? Did something take her? I felt dizzy, and forced it away furiously. I had to find her! I stopped running and shifted back, “Cayane where are you!?" I bellowed helplessly.

For what seemed an eternity, I heard only the pounding of my heart.

“Sirius!” She materialized before me, running awkwardly through the grass, her hair unnaturally vibrant in the half-light. Her face was radiant with joy.... I felt my heart would burst from happiness.

“I knew I heard you!” She shrieked, leaping into my arms. For a moment, I was whole again... “I didn’t give up! I love you, I missed you, I love you so much!” she cried.

I embraced her fiercely, never wanting to let go, “I love you, too… I promise I’ll come back...”

Her green eyes were bright with tears... “I’ll wait for you.”

And she was gone.

oh god this one this one.. sitl lworks wen ti's cutto 300somethign words. ouch.
*points to you and g and crgi* if istop redign fanfic i'll mek a nexceptio nfor you three. heroins. al lof you.

and i so rec the whole au. teaches yo uhow to blend worlds. if you haven't learned so yet.
sorry for this shameless public plug.

“It just covers so much – magic, that is.”

She props her chin up in her hand, pausing a moment to think.

“I mean, we all thought the Phantom was magic – we didn’t say the word, but what else do you call – oh, all of it, the ventriloquism and the lights and the mirrors and the, the glow – they say Opera is magic, you know. Or they call it that, sometimes, at least, when it all comes together right, and you know, there is a difference, you can almost see it sometimes – the times when everything clicks, and it’s all of a sudden more than just words and notes and prima donnas prancing around the stage, it really is, you know, like a fantasy. It’s not real, but it’s – more real than real? I don’t think I’m describing it well. But maybe you know what I mean anyways.

But, I mean, around here they wouldn’t call that magic. Magic is – I dunno, what Tim does. Or any of the wizards, pointing a wand and mumbling something and turning something into another something, poof, like that.

And I guess they’re right, that is magic. I mean, it’s not science, and if it’s not science it has to be magic, right?”

She stops again.

“But after a while that gets normal, that gets commonplace. By now I don’t even blink at it. And Opera magic is always magic to me, always special, no matter how many times I see it happen.

But, you know, I’m prejudiced. Lots of people don’t even like Opera. So I guess – sorry to ramble on like this, sometimes I just can’t stop myself talking – I guess, to actually answer the question, yeah, I come from one of those worlds without magic.”

Is the magic of Harry Potter in Harry? Is it in the characters, the movies or the books? Is it a wand or a potion? Is the magic in the fandom and fan-antics that spam the globe?

Yes, but I propose the magic in Harry Potter is housed solely within the author J. K. Rowling.

Magic - n. 1) The art that purports to control or forecast natural events, effects, or forces by invoking the supernatural. 2a) the practice of using charms, spells, or rituals to attempt to produce supernatural effects or control events in nature. 2b) the charms, spells, and rituals so used. 3) The exercise of sleight of hand or conjuring for entertainment. 4) A mysterious quality of enchantment: “For me the names of those men breathed the magic of the past” (Max Beerbohm). Source – www.dictionary.com.

I like definition number four ~ A mysterious quality of enchantment. JKR designed a world that undoubtedly supports this definition of magic.

Rapt attention is focused on her every word, action or deed that might in any way give us, the unfortunate minions, a glance into her crystal ball.

With conviction I can say many, if not all, Harry Potter fans wait in frightful agony to read how this magic will end. We want year seven; we want closure. JKR will continue to feed us her magic for two more volumes. Past that no one, not even JKR knows what the world will be. JKR wrote the epilogue of book seven. In her mind, the magic is almost gone.

Our minds have two years left to hypothesize, contemplate and tremble in awe at the never ending magic. The magic that JKR transcribed to paper is engrossing and keeps us talking, speculating and creating. We, as fans, have rubbed up against JKR and come away with a little of her magic. Although, most of us will never achieve the caliber of magic JKR has created, we can dwell in the beautiful and captivating world that JKR has magically invented for us.

wyould you lease leave my brain? Notthat i was goignto write liek this for the challenge but wen i triedto mangle my lj bio a bit i had the urget tank her on my knees 9wel lsort of) for creatign suc hafantastic world to play in (adn for my case to exercise befre hopping off to my own fake worlds) and this is SO hitting the mark. thanks.

I love this little essay. Thank you for sharing it with us all.

Thanks!

Fandom - Gynx and Catholic
Character - Gynx Valentino

If the Catholic church believed in magic, Gynx wouldn’t have known, or really cared. She had gone to Catholic school from kindergarten to eighth grade, but over the course of those nine years, they had agreed that they wouldn’t acknowledge each other.

Because they had judged her by her name.

The children and their parents believed that her black hair and her name meant trouble: that she would jinx anybody who had anything to do with her. The Catholic church thought much along the same lines, in that her name was not a recognized Christian name and that the mere thought of baptizing somebody like her was paganism. They called her Clarence instead.

Some time in fourth grade, something else developed that seemed to prove these peoples’ discriminations. They noticed that when she looked in their eyes, she was looking right through them, and somehow she saw their souls.

As everybody now avoided her, she had plenty of time to think about this, and by the time she had reached high school she had decided that there was such a thing as magic in the world. Some higher power had given her an ability that some would see as witchcraft, but she believed was miraculous, and very, very solitary.

When she touched her first deck of tarot, she felt a sad connection, a loneliness and finality as she realized that these would be her tools. Her life would be magic and little else. What could she do other than that? People needed her magic to answer questions, to ease their minds, to put to rest grief or grudges. And she knew she had to do it, no matter how lonely or isolated she became.

Hope you don't mind me doing two... This one is more cohearant. From my Long Story, but written with this challenge in mind. Acacia's PoV. Rating: PG-13-R

**

I woke reluctantly, content to stay in the loving embrace of my first Bond.

Knowing I had no choice but to go, I cast a spell to deepen his sleep, and extricated myself carefully from his arms. I knew he would not question my leaving, but I wanted time to sort out my thoughts.

I never intended things to go so far. I was certain he would push me away. I never thought he could still feel this way… I never believed he could ever make me feel like this. I Bonded him for many reasons, but to my shame, love was not one of them. Yet even after all I had done to him, he still made love to me as if I were a goddess to be worshipped... a woman to be adored… I know he did not realize what he did when he touched me with his magic, nor how much of himself he showed me by doing so.

I, who had never been rendered helpless, was.

I, who forever remain apart, could be so no longer.

How had I not realized how deeply I hurt him? How had I missed the beauty of his soul for so long? What I gave him was nothing in comparison… I was unforgivably clumsy… I had no right to his awe. I wondered if he had ever taken another lover. It had been centuries since I touched him last; my heart foreboded that he had not. He still loved me unconditionally; the Light alone knew why.

I did not know what I would tell him. I had manipulated his life for 680 years; I had come to put an end to it. It was too late to do more. I had another life; I could never offer Dal more than an occasional affair. He was worth more than that.

However, as I watched him sleep beneath his absurd mossy coverlet, all I wanted to do was hold him close. To have him wake in my arms and return a fraction of he had given me so freely.

I checked myself. I was Premiere Adventuress; I knew what needed to be done and would do it.

I could not allow myself to love him.

***

make it stop!! I love the tone of her voice adn I' mglad to be surprised by getting a tiny snippet of what you've been working on for months by now.
the only picliar thign is nearly every sentence started with I. it's more ofa hmmm... ta na real 'meh' from m yside . it made the tone abit more...i cna't find the right word. te whoel of it was tragic enough. but I've read tpe of poems/ballads wth a cetia nrepetition and tis went on liek a set of very sad quiet waves on the sea.

Notto soudn liek acopy cat 9sicne i ner knew

siriusstar was goign to drop i nwith soem story bits) but it did push me over the edge .Tank you dear.
and thank YOU {{HUS} FOR THE CHALLENGE THEME! wht dis this about? the maical energy inside stars. My own invention as far as I know.
FANDOM: HP/ORIGINAL UNIVERSE i' MWORKIN WITH
Just atin ysin-off from my sirius work-in-sporadic-progress, in which he issent back for mawordl beyon the veil to have a second chance...in dog form. tther's alogn story ehid nthe birth f this particualr bunny.
Let me know if you want more details or woud like to read more. it's all unpublished. this is acharacer he'll meet atthe start of hisstory.

**************

I reached the top of the small watch tower . I was of course immmensely proud tat I was invited to join them. Women are never allowed to join in rituals of this kind. And this was a specal one, one addressed to our honorable stars. I didn't have the faintest idea that I would learn something veryuseful tonight, that I would come in contact with something very special.
Everyone knows the stars by name of course. Everyone has a favourite, one to turn to for help or for answers to questions. We know the magic they contain, we know about their energy and some of us claim to know how to use i aor ene how to bend it to their own will.
I've wanted to find mine for years, to really see it. I only read about him in books, books I wasn't supsoed to study yet. I know I shouldn't thank the man who once showed me the thin scroll of parchment on which soeone had written about Aldebaran.
And nw, after years of studying in my room behind a closed door, one of the men I admired so much had decided to make me his apprentice. I only once asked him why he smiled the smile of wich eveyrone knows what it means. This question has an answer, but it's up to you to find it out yourself.
I was pondering whether I should be proud , i was about to wonder whether I should feel ashamed of being the only female who was willing and able to work with the signs of our sky. But this wasn't the place to ask my teacer or anyone else, and the lights dimmed alread. This was the time when all thoughts would have to leave. After few momens I only heard the wind, mingling with the reguar breathing ofabout twelve people. We all gazed the clear blue sky above our heads and i saw the moon, the familiar images, the pin-pointers of constellatins that we were supposed to recognize after our first lesson. It's a strange stage of mind, as if one stands on a piece of floating wood drifting through space and passing all the familiar shapes, cloud snippets, constructions. The most fascinating part of it was the energy, the tingling in my hands and fet, tiny pins of bright light, soft whispering voices...
It seemed like just a minute of silence had passed, but in reality it must have been an hour. A hand on my shoulder made me look up and I suddenly realized I was standing alone, but for one familiar man right next to me. It was my teacher, wit the widest girn on his face that I hadn't seen in months.

"I can hardly believe you have joined me." he said.
Then pointed to a bright star a bit further away from us. "This," he said, "is why I brought you here."
I looked in his directin, tried to move myself closer. And there he was, the star I wanted to find. This was the moment for me to send my questions and hope for answes.
But I couldn't remember my questions any more. "Sirius," was all I could say. The next thing I heard was a clear voice and it called my name.
Right now I will tell you that it is of course utter nonsense, pure fantasy made up by me. No-one else has seen me, no-one heard me, my teacher merely saw himself and me watching that star. He did hand me a few scrols I had never read before and of course they were all about Sirius. I will read them, if only to find out what the famous authors of the universe know about the magic it holds. but for some strange reason I am convinced ever since that night, that I will find it all out myself.

******************
***************
Tomorrow i'l type up asusan bones one.

I like this, Yvonne. Nice job. How much more of it do you have?

I havn'et written more from her pov yet. I have about 93 kb form sirus' pov (this includes wo sesomewhat finished chapters and a draft of what I wrote further wihc hals ohas some random snipets etc.) It's nearly the onl ysirisu stuff worthwhile to read. Other stuf I wrote was sirius/hermioen and bleh. O hand there wsa the gift fic I sent yo uaobuthe motorcycle.
Oh I do have another 80 kb marauders story. I shoud lgettose polished up and published.
butthis prompted me to fill i nsoem more prologue-liek stuff. I wantto get goign with itthis week. so perhaps I'll use these characters for challenges. I'm not roleplayign any more yo usee.

Note: it's hard for me to write as Vicious. He has no music in his soul but at least I convinced him to use the word magic once in this drabble. He's an odd one.

--Gwynne

Once upon a time, there was a man. A young man, not much more than a boy, with certain expectations for the way the world should work. With certain expectations for his place in the world. And for how the world ought to treat him.

And for what the world owed him.

For the first time in his life he thought he was wanted. He thought someone loved him. He thought someone cared but no: like a snake no longer requiring its shed skin he was shunted aside, discarded, unnecessary. What they forgot--what those two forgot--was that snakes had fangs. Pushed aside didn’t mean neutered, made impotent.

Oh, no. If anything it made the snake stronger, more wiling to strike, more willing to protect its turf. Nothing unnatural about that: once a beast, always a beast; once a danger always a danger. Never underestimate a man scorned.

There would be retribution. He would get what he wanted, and it would be sweeter than the taste of blood under those fangs: even cold-blooded creatures had beating hearts. No creature in this solar system could survive without the pounding rush of blood, the give-and-take of right and wrong and of debts owed and debts paid.

The man had one tender memory untainted by pain: a kind woman’s face looking down at him, her hair black and wild around her smile, her eyes alight, her soft hand reaching out to comfort him. How old was he? Three, perhaps? Four? He cherished the memory, the only thing he knew that contained the faintest whiff of magic. The rest of the world could go to hell and he’d gladly wield his katana and help. But that one precious memory was his: no amount of debt or betrayal or bloodshed could erase it.

Snake.

My familiar sets upon my shoulder, the light of the setting sun aglow on dark chocolate silk. Magic, she purrs, is here all around us. Stretch and yawn, and cast the spell of winter slumber off. Smell the Earth as She blooms life anew, spring rain and mud, my pad prints on desk papers. Ears twitch as Her life awakes, frog song and robin warning, eagle screech high above me. See the color rises up and flow across Her face, brown to green, white to shades of indigo and pink. Preen elegant and walk among the blooms. Sit still and feel Her warm breath caress you, tail twitch in pleasure. Taste of the first fruits of Earth—leeks, morels and mice, berries and voles. The magic of life renewed. The magic of the seasons. The magic of Mother Earth.

That's... so much in such a little space. Ancient legend and Mother Nature and a modern office space and magic and cats. Wow. Thank you.

But I neglected t polish it up .Susan BOnes and Nville. 9note, I played her in an rpg.
Neville and I have been paired in Herbology a few times. I learned a lot

from him and he seems to like teaching other people what he knows.
Friday's lesson was something different though. We were cutting off

petals. I considered this a routine job by now, so I wasn’t paying much

attention. Then I cut my finger on the sharp knife. I dropped it, then

stared at the ground in shock. Both my hands were covered in juice, so I

couldn’t reach for my wand. Besides, that juice had a rather painful

effect when it mingled with the blood from my finger. My left hand was

tingling already.

"Susan?" I heard next to me. Before I could answer, Neville took my hand

and waved about it with his wand. He frowned in concentration and made

brushing movements.

"Hope it's cleaned out now," he muttered. I couldn't look, but he turned

the hand over and nodded. He gave a soft sigh of relief and I nearly

laughed. I wanted to tell him he had the full right to be proud of

himself.

He waved his wand again. "Reparoderma!"

"I heard it in the hospital last week," he mumbled. "Does it work?" he

observed the wound closely. "It does! Susan, it's healed!"

I was touched in astrange way, touched by the proud smile on his face.

"Thank you Neville," I said softly, "Thank you very much."

"Eh, it's nothing," he said with a shy smile.

It was a moment of magic for me to see how his self-confidence had grown

within a year. Harry's defence lessons had done wonders for all of us.

They’d worked magic for Neville.

1. I love the spell.
2. I love that you brought in Neville's trips to the hospital. It doesn't matter that you don't say why he was there: we know, and it all ties in with canon so nicely.
3. I love how shy they both are around each other.

I didnt' realize susa nwas acitng out of shyness. the hospital refference wsa one of those unconscious thigns trickling in. I getthat most fro mcharacters I know very well. I'l be lookign forward to write chalenges again.
YO uknow .I sem to miss doign weekly prompts *rejoins ficcommunities again.0

Blanche Malfoy, thirteen and a half years old, hated magic.

When anyone did magic around her, it took all of her will not to run from the room. She learnt about it through books so she might be able to know what she had to fear. Blanche had no hope of ever being able to do it. There was no way she would ever be able to acquire a wand.

She remembered, shortly after she’d come here to Siberia, that she had desperately wished that she’d been born a Muggle, with Muggle parents. Muggles could only imprison with bars or chains, after all.

Physical. Fallible.

Escapable.

Not so with magic. One needed knowledge to escape. One needed a wand. Two things she didn’t have and had no hope of ever having.

She looked up. Her window was open, and she could see the early spring day. She could breathe the air. She could feel it upon her face.

In a way, that made it worse.

Sometimes, she went to the ballroom, with its floor-to-ceiling windows. She would press up against them as closely as she was able, her nose pressed against the glass. She could almost feel as if she were outside, then.

Blanche put her hand up to the open window, feeling the soft breeze caress her fingers. She closed her eyes. So lovely.

Her hand strayed too far, and at the burning sensation created by the wards, she snatched her fingers back before the alarms started to go off.

Blanche Malfoy hated magic.

:( Poor Blanche.

Magic.

Elaine looked down at the pendant in her palm.

There had been magic in Elaine’s world. Mysterious and powerful, it was a skill wielded by only a precious few. Magic was something to stand in awe of. To fear.

But this—and she looked at the pendant again—this was something she’d never expected. And wasn’t sure she wanted.
Lord Arawn had told her to never take the pendant off, to wear it next to her skin. She’d done that. She had worn it every day; she even bathed with it on.

But what was it doing to her? What powers did it possess?

She was very thankful she’d been able to help Kim. It was amazing how much it had drained her! She’d slept eighteen hours the day afterwards.

But now…she’d had time to think about it. And it was quite worrisome.

Elaine generally didn’t fear much of anything. After all, she was dead, and all anyone could do was cause her pain. She could only hurt herself. She couldn’t die again.

Now, for the first time she’d come to Milliways, she feared for herself. Not terribly, because despite it all, she still trusted Arawn.

But it was there.

Oh, I'm five minutes late for my own deadline. Who bloody cares?

This is fifth-year Sirius. In case anyone can't remember the timeline...

Magic is magic is magic, isn’t it? I mean, there’s magic and then there’s Magic. Big magic, magic I’m not supposed to do, magic we’re not supposed to do. Me and James: if we get caught out, we’ll be in detention for weeks and weeks.

I don’t care, though: it’s time, and we’ve spent so long finding the bloody spells and perfecting our use of them and now it’s time, it’s time, and damn if I didn’t wait until we’d -- I’d -- found the spell that forces you back to human and made James memorise it, just in case something goes wrong.

I look at James. "Ready?"

He ruffles his hand through his hair, casual as always, although I can see some fire burning in those pale eyes of his, belying his exterior calm.

"Who’s first?"

He always asks that. In point of fact, I’m dying to go first. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if James knows this and he’s just toying with me. Bloody Quidditch players, they’re all alike.

I don’t even wait: I close my eyes and squeeze them shut tight and concentrate with every last ounce of concentration I’ve got, and say the spell to myself, and wait, and wait, and...

He’s looking at me, and he’s got a grin on his face, and he’s pointing.

"What?"

It comes out a bark.

A bark?

I’m a bloody dog?

"You try it," I want to say, but it’s just a combination of noises. And smells. And sounds, and everything looks different, and it sounds different, and it smells different, and it feels different.

It feels like magic. Big magic. And it might stay that way... if only I can stop knocking things over with my tail.

Delightful! I can just imagine his tail is a terror, too. ^_^

*smiles*

Shame on being late. But very nice. That would be a moment to see, when they first figure it out.

You should read

sff_corgi's take on the first time those two used the Animagus charm. It's right here (http://www.sugarquill.net/read.php?storyid=1464&chapno=1).

And as far as being late goes... when did Sirius ever pay attention to the rules?

Hey that was really neat. Read - Enjoyed - Reviewed. Thanks for the rec.

Cute!

Writing Challenge - Magic

Magic ...

Re: Magic ...

Re: Magic ...

Fandom: Harry Potter / featuring Bill Weasley

Re: Fandom: Harry Potter / featuring Bill Weasley

no subject

no subject

Character: Kitt Fandom: Knight Rider via Milliways

A little school story

Fandom: Harry Potter AU - Sirius Black

Re: Fandom: Harry Potter AU - Sirius Black

Character: Meg Giry, Phantom of the Opera. Set in Milliways.

More of an expose....

Re: More of an expose....

Re: More of an expose....

Re: More of an expose....

Gynx & Magic

Fandom: Zork/Mine Characters: 2nd Dungeon Mistress/3rd Dungeon Master

Re: Fandom: Zork/Mine Characters: 2nd Dungeon Mistress/3rd Dungeon Master

ok I can d this now

Re: ok I can d this now

Re: ok I can d this now

Fandom: Cowboy Bebop / featuring Vicious

no subject

no subject

wel I di dwrite this on tuesday.

Re: wel I di dwrite this on tuesday.

Re: wel I di dwrite this on tuesday.

Magic, 255 words, written in the laundromat. HP: OC/Dogstar RPG

Re: Magic, 255 words, written in the laundromat. HP: OC/Dogstar RPG

Elaine/Milliways, 205 words, started in landromat, finished at home.

Fandom: Harry Potter / featuring Sirius Black

Re: Fandom: Harry Potter / featuring Sirius Black

Re: Fandom: Harry Potter / featuring Sirius Black

Re: Fandom: Harry Potter / featuring Sirius Black

Re: Fandom: Harry Potter / featuring Sirius Black

no subject