Excerpts galore!
. . . 'Cause apparently they're trendy, according to jkrowling.com. ;-)
So -- random snippets, just to prove that I am, in fact, updating. Slowly, but somewhat surely!
And, you see, this is rather what the nightmares are like. They also tend to involve Herman sporting a black cloak and cackling quite diabolically indeed; this is disturbing for a number of reasons, the first of which is that iguanas cannot cackle.
I don't think.
-
But it couldn’t be true, could it? All right, yes, James knew perfectly well that he tended to make Lily a bit . . . irritated. But ‘hate’ was such a strong word - a word usually reserved for Dark Wizards, and those annoying little talking heads that his dad thought were so hilarious and consequently hung everywhere.
His dad really had a crap sense of humor.
-
Still, perhaps he would present to Auriga that Victoria had abandoned the two of them, and it would inspire a bit of anger on his starry-eyed twit’s part, causing her to cast Victoria out of her life forever.
After all, Auriga had instructed that they both stick around and keep her sister company.
“I’ll only be gone for a couple of hours,” she’d said, staring rather sternly at both of them. “Just keep her company while she settles in, and don’t start plotting to kill one another.”
Hah. Certainly easier said than done. After all, as soon as Auriga had left, Victoria had claimed that “you two seem to be getting on swimmingly - I think I’ll just go grade papers.”
The mental picture of her waving at him and grinning mockingly from the doorway before disappearing stirred within him a homicidal rage so paramount that it rivaled that which he’d felt when Sirius Black had somehow managed to escape Hogwarts perfectly ensouled.
“Victoria Vector will die,” he hissed viciously.
Lyra, who was placing a stack of alarmingly frilly undergarments into the top drawer of the bureau, turned and blinked at him. “What was that?”
“Nothing,” he muttered darkly.
-
This was nice, bugging Hermione. This was something he was good at - no, great at. And it was something normal. Ever since they were eleven, he’d gone out of his way to annoy her out of her mind. With her glaring at him and looking as though she’d like to kick something, everything seemed the way it should be.
Not like Harry might very well die in two days.
Ron couldn’t quite bring himself to accept it. He knew it, of course, in the way someone knew facts and things. It had been pounded into his brain pretty bloody well over the past few months. That didn’t mean he had accepted it. He hoped he wouldn’t have to.
-
“RON!” Hermione shrieked.
Ron jumped.
“Damn it, Hermione!” he exclaimed, his heart pounding in a way that definitely couldn’t be healthy. (He wasn’t forgiving her if she gave him a bloody heart attack, that was for sure.) “What??”
“Do you hear something?” she asked timidly.
“No,” he shot back. “Now, let’s get this over with.”
He grabbed her hand and dragged her down the hall until they reached the end of it. Their target stood before them, and maybe he was just going mental, but he had the unnerving suspicion that it was staring down at them.
Wouldn’t doubt it, he thought, shuddering. Considering what it is, and all.
“How does this go again?” he asked weakly.
“It’s very simple, really,” Hermione replied. He could recognize the nervousness in her tone all too well. “All you have to do is slash the letter F into the portrait, and then the evil spirit will detach itself from it and present itself in a corporeal form. From there you just say the incantation and it should be banished into the recesses of hell.”
A rather ominous silence accompanied that proclamation.
“Right then,” Ron said after a moment.
See? See? Progress.
. . . Er. Kind of.
So -- random snippets, just to prove that I am, in fact, updating. Slowly, but somewhat surely!
And, you see, this is rather what the nightmares are like. They also tend to involve Herman sporting a black cloak and cackling quite diabolically indeed; this is disturbing for a number of reasons, the first of which is that iguanas cannot cackle.
I don't think.
-
But it couldn’t be true, could it? All right, yes, James knew perfectly well that he tended to make Lily a bit . . . irritated. But ‘hate’ was such a strong word - a word usually reserved for Dark Wizards, and those annoying little talking heads that his dad thought were so hilarious and consequently hung everywhere.
His dad really had a crap sense of humor.
-
Still, perhaps he would present to Auriga that Victoria had abandoned the two of them, and it would inspire a bit of anger on his starry-eyed twit’s part, causing her to cast Victoria out of her life forever.
After all, Auriga had instructed that they both stick around and keep her sister company.
“I’ll only be gone for a couple of hours,” she’d said, staring rather sternly at both of them. “Just keep her company while she settles in, and don’t start plotting to kill one another.”
Hah. Certainly easier said than done. After all, as soon as Auriga had left, Victoria had claimed that “you two seem to be getting on swimmingly - I think I’ll just go grade papers.”
The mental picture of her waving at him and grinning mockingly from the doorway before disappearing stirred within him a homicidal rage so paramount that it rivaled that which he’d felt when Sirius Black had somehow managed to escape Hogwarts perfectly ensouled.
“Victoria Vector will die,” he hissed viciously.
Lyra, who was placing a stack of alarmingly frilly undergarments into the top drawer of the bureau, turned and blinked at him. “What was that?”
“Nothing,” he muttered darkly.
-
This was nice, bugging Hermione. This was something he was good at - no, great at. And it was something normal. Ever since they were eleven, he’d gone out of his way to annoy her out of her mind. With her glaring at him and looking as though she’d like to kick something, everything seemed the way it should be.
Not like Harry might very well die in two days.
Ron couldn’t quite bring himself to accept it. He knew it, of course, in the way someone knew facts and things. It had been pounded into his brain pretty bloody well over the past few months. That didn’t mean he had accepted it. He hoped he wouldn’t have to.
-
“RON!” Hermione shrieked.
Ron jumped.
“Damn it, Hermione!” he exclaimed, his heart pounding in a way that definitely couldn’t be healthy. (He wasn’t forgiving her if she gave him a bloody heart attack, that was for sure.) “What??”
“Do you hear something?” she asked timidly.
“No,” he shot back. “Now, let’s get this over with.”
He grabbed her hand and dragged her down the hall until they reached the end of it. Their target stood before them, and maybe he was just going mental, but he had the unnerving suspicion that it was staring down at them.
Wouldn’t doubt it, he thought, shuddering. Considering what it is, and all.
“How does this go again?” he asked weakly.
“It’s very simple, really,” Hermione replied. He could recognize the nervousness in her tone all too well. “All you have to do is slash the letter F into the portrait, and then the evil spirit will detach itself from it and present itself in a corporeal form. From there you just say the incantation and it should be banished into the recesses of hell.”
A rather ominous silence accompanied that proclamation.
“Right then,” Ron said after a moment.
See? See? Progress.
. . . Er. Kind of.