I've hit a writer's block.

[catkeytiger]

In recent weeks I've been using my spare time to try and work out some things in my Deck Master series. Little things like Sakura's class list and character profiles. And along the way a few scenes from farther along in the story popped into my head. Seeing how it seems it will take nearly forever to actually get to writing them out in the propper story, I've decided to go ahead and post them here so that anyone bothering to read these can know that I haven't actually abandoned the storyline and where my mind is going with these.

This first scene takes place about a week into the start of the school year, Harry confronts Dumbledore about the presence of exchange students during such dangerous times.

“Professor!” Harry called, marching up to the old man before he could duck around a corner. “Why are there exchange students here?! I TOLD you that Voldemort was back, and still you invited them? I wasn’t lying, you know!” the emerald-eyed boy fumed.

“I am perfectly well aware that you were telling the truth, Harry.” The old man said, but he seemed to be brushing Harry off with the distracted way he kept looking off in the distance.

This fact only served to annoy Harry further. “Then what are they doing here?”

“Pre-wartimes is the best point to secure foreign allies. You can rest assured that the reason Voldemort has not yet made a move is that he is busy doing the same.”

“ ‘Allies’? You’re putting an innocent eleven-year-old boy in danger-in the same house as all of Voldemort’s supporters-for the sake of ‘allies’?!”

“Mr. Potter, to be so prejudice against your fellow classmates for the colour of their badge is to be no better than Voldemort and his Death Eaters persecuting others for the state of their birth.”

“That’s besides the point!”

“You’re wrong, Mr. Potter. That is exactly the point. For all of wizardry to stand united against him and his cause is the only true way to win this fight. And to do that, such differences as house and heritage must be put behind us and some sacrifices must be made in the name of the greater good.”

“And do these ‘sacrifices’ include the safety of an innocent kid?”

“Sadly, some times they do…”

“You know, maybe the Prophet was right, I may not be lying, but I think you HAVE gone senile.” And with that, Harry angrily stalked away.


About 3 to 4 weeks into classes, Harry goes in search of answers involving this mistery of "sorcerers" from an unusual source.

“Um… Nick…?? Could I… ask you something in privet?” Harry questioned nervously to the ghost.

“Of course, Harry!” the spirit reassured. It took a little bit of searching to find a private room, but when they did, the Gryffindor mascot looked at the fifteen year old questioningly.

“You know that I wasn’t raised in a wizarding home, right?” Sir Nick nodded, “Well, it’s just… on the train here I was in a compartment with a bunch of pure-bloods, and they got to talking… Somehow the conversation went to a subject that they all seemed to know about, and I didn’t want to sound stupid, so I didn’t ask at the time, but… what is the difference between a wizard and a sorcerer?”

This was obviously the last thing in the world that Nearly-Headless Nick was expecting from the look on his face. But after a moment of trying to gather his thoughts, he finally began. “Well, Harry, that is a very complicated question… you see, no one really knows what the difference is, just that a Sorcerer has to be bread, they can’t just be born anywhere like Wizards can.”

At the continual blank look he was receiving, he tried again. “Perhaps if I told you the legend, you’d understand better… you see, long, long ago, magic in humans was far more chaotic. We hadn’t yet learned to channel it through wands, yet, and there were no schools to teach magic in either. You basically had to find yourself a master and become an apprentice until you became a master yourself. Most that had the gift of magic, never learned what it was or how to use it, because they never met with a master. That’s where the beliefs that pure-bloods are stronger then Muggle-born, merely because the pure-blood children had access to the knowledge quite readily, while the others did not.

“So understand that no one knows the real truth behind the forming of Sorcerers, but what I’m telling you is the accepted truth. They say that there was a guild forming… an elite society of wizards and witches from all over the world that were the best of the best of their time. All that is really positive is that they called themselves the Sorcerers Guild, though how many of them there were, and what they did to themselves is all purely speculation. Some say that it was a group of only a few, somewhere between five to twenty, while others even go so far as to say that it had to be a good few hundred, but whatever their numbers, they did something to themselves.

“Whether it was through potion, or fancy spell work, I can’t say, but they somehow managed to mutate themselves, becoming part of the magic that most can only harness. The intense power that flowed through them was looked at as something to flaunt in the faces of the rest of the magic world. It installed an arrogance that lead to discommunication between our sector and theirs. What little is known, is that over the millennia that they have existed, they stuck to the old style of master-and-apprentice, and eventually bread themselves to near extinction.

“To actually find a Sorcerer nowadays is near impossible, and even if you did stumble across one, the only ones who know how to tell them apart from any other person is a fellow Sorcerer. I wouldn’t worry yourself over it, the only things that even pure-bloods are ever told anymore are just bed-time fables about them. Did that help at all, though, Harry?”

“Yes, thank you, Sir Nicholas… I best be getting to the Great Hall for dinner now. See you later!” Harry called over his shoulder as he scurried out of the room. After all his thinking and planning about who to go to to get the answers without being pressured into breaking his promise to Eriol, it had only sufficed to open hundreds of more questions in his head. From what he heard on the train, there had to be at least five Sorcerers here in Hogwarts this very instant… and yet for all of them to be living life, not only hiding what they were from the Muggles like any other magic user, but from the wizards who they lived with and were friends with…

And yet, Luna had spoken of knowing when Eriol was walking up, and seeing it in his eyes that he was no wizard, so were they really so very alone? Or was this secret Guild being preformed right under the teachers’ noses? Suddenly nothing that he and his friends had done seemed so very amazing. That there could be a whole secret society taking place at Hogwarts just seemed so… beyond what him and his friends had ever done. Even the Order of the Phoenix didn’t seem all that impressive as this Guild would have had to have been taking place here in Hogwarts, and everywhere in the world in every school, Magic or Muggle, for thousands of years…

Yes, in the comparison to that, all the sneaking around that he did seemed miniscule. But now, he wanted to talk to Eriol. His curiosity was perked, and he wanted to know all that he could find out about the world of Sorcerers. Maybe, just maybe, they may be interested in helping out against Voldemort. [Maybe a Sorcerer was the weapon he was looking for? Maybe he himself is a Sorcerer? No, Nearly-Headless Nick said it took breeding, they wouldn’t just let one of them be born without supervision, would they? And what about the potion that he used, was that a sorcerer’s potion? Was the hand he gave Wormtail a sorcerer’s spell?]

Around and around the questions rang through his ears, until he hadn’t even noticed that he had sat down and started eating over with the fourth-years until Ginny finally gave him a hard enough poke in the ribs.


In the school, Snape has many reasons to dispise many students, staff, and ghosts. But while stalking the halls after dinner one Friday night, he stumbles across an instance that makes him realize that maybe not everyone here is all that bad...

Severus Snape stalked down the hallway to his office, his dark robes billowing. Another week of his miserable life was over. Now he had two precious days to indulge in himself, to ignore those noisy, disrespectful children who were all so full of waving their wands in the air that they would never stop long enough to contemplate the finer arts of potion making.

No, potions took a perfection of mind, it took an understanding of not only the products used and the directions given, but also the purpose you desire. It was more a science then a magic really, and it took that determined, analytical mind to be proficient at it. But then, no one-not even most adults-could understand and appreciate that fact.

Snape was disrupted from his internal monolog about his passion by a light like that of a torch flooding from under the doorway of his classroom. He knew at once that no one should be in there, that he had no further classes until second period on Monday. But all the same, there was someone in there, he could even faintly smell the sent of a familiar potion, though he wasn't quite sure which.

The door was ajar, just enough for Snape to get a look into the classroom. There, in his line of sight, were two of the cauldrons filled with the Sleeping Draught that he had been teaching his first years the Tuesday before. Both were varying shades of purple, qualifying passing-if not top-marks, and fumed beautifully, but each lacked that spacific matalic sheen that the potion would obtain when brewed to optimum efficency.

Curiosity now perked, Snape pushed gently on his door to see who would brew so much of this potion and for what purpose. Expecting, perhaps, to see the Weasley twins and their freind Jordan, who were briliant in potions if not quite troublesom, he found instead the form of a first year, hunched over level with the table, occupying themselves on something.

Stepping quietly in, he noticed that it was none other than a student from his own house, the young Minister-to-be Xaio Lang Li. Inching around, he spotted the open notes laying to the side, a direct word-for-word copy of what he had written on the board, with different things scribbled on the sidelines in Chinese. At the moment, Li was bent level with the table, and was maticulously cutting the valerian root, using a mesuring stick to make sure they were cut to one centimeter segments exactly.

When reaching the end, finding that the last segment was under a centimeter, it was disgarded into a pile of unsatisfactory potions ingredients. Tripple counting just to make sure, Syaoran laid out the seven piles of three that would have to be added on the five minute intervols near the end of the task.

Taking his eyes off what the boy was doing for only a moment, Snape noted the lionfish spines ground to such a fine pouder that it was no more then dust, and a vial of pepermint juice with a dropper in the top so not to pour too much in by accident. Snape sat down behind his student, oddly intent to watch the first year toil away with exact mesurements.

For two hours Snape sat in silence, watching yet another near success of his student. So focused on what his task was, Syaoran did not even look around himself to notice he was being observed. Upon the realisation that he had once again failed to create the potion to it's optimum Sleeping Draught, Syaoran let out an audible moan of frustration and sunk his head into his arms in defeat.

Snape turned his head, after watching the motions of the boy in his prosess of creating the potion, and came to an understanding. This was no attempt to use this potion for prank or personal use, but rather a mere attempt at perfection. No one would waist this much time or make half so many notes if it were any other perpose.

A genuin smile of pride and familarity met Snape's lips. Perhaps, just perhaps, he had finally found a student he could really work with, really teach. The determination, the concentration, the patience and perciverance... they were all there, the only thing that was stopping this boy was the understanding.

“You stir too slowly.” Snape pointed out, causing his would-be pupil to jump in surprise. “And also, you don't mesure your ingredients corectly.”

Syaoran, as always, did his best to appear like he was in control, but Snape could see in his amber eyes a swell of confusion, frustration, and even fear. “But Professor, your instructions said...” he let the end of the sentice eb away, his own insicurities halting his tongue from arguing further.

“But you are ignoring the fact that each root has an individual width, as well as knobs and bends that add to the length.” He said impatiently, drawing up a stool oposite Syaoran's and pulling a fresh sheet of partchment from his pile. Picking up a quil, Snape began to write quickly. “Look here, Potions is more then just following directions, you have to use your head and think about everything you're doing. Everything is cause and effect. If you know what you want to make, you can figure out how to make it.”

Syaoran nodded, though Snape wasn't too sure if he was being polite or if he really understood. He had his eyes focused soully on Snape's writing, reading it upside down as he went. Valerian root-7x3; Peperment juice-15... “Its all a matter of ratio, the grose net amount of each substance and how it reacts with the other substances. The rate you add it, the speed you stir, the strength of the boil, these determin how thurowly the ingrediance is mixed. If the potion is hot, you stir quickly, and you add your ingreedients slowly, then the result is a very evenly-destributed ingredients.”

“But you have to be careful, because the effect of some potions ingreedients can be nullified by too much heat. And for some effects, you may not want the ingreedients to mix completely. But all of this is pointless if the ingreedents themselves are wrong. You have to look instead of the length, at the total volume, and you have to understand what the ingreedients are and what they're used for.”

“Valerian root is used in every single sleeping potion, it's what gives them the purple colour. Its effect is to relax the muscles, but too much and you can relax them to the point of stopping the heart from beating and the diaphram from moving. Pepermint is used in potions as a calming effect, it puts the user in a light-headed state of mind and if too much is used it can cause temperary laziness.”

“Lionfish spines shut off the nervous system, and can be lethal if injested strait or in too large a dosage. And the hellbore suryp is used to drain emotions of negitivity, hence it's uses in such potions as the Draught of Peace.” he continued to explain, and couldn't keep the smirk off his face as he saw the glow of comprehention and true confidence within Syaoran's eyes.

“The engredients we use in China for sleeping potions are very different, sir, we use herbs, animal products, and minerals native to our area, but the theory is just the same... Were I am from, the sleeping potion we use is diluted with water and strengthened by steaming it.” Syaoran explained.

“Not the Sleeping Draught, though, the water would just sit on top. What you would need to dilute Sleeping Draught would be less Valerian to the amount of potion you make. But if the potion is already completed, you can add five drops of pepermint and half a tablespoon of hellbore suryp for every leter of potion. That is, as long as the potion has the sheen it's suposed to. Otherwise you would need to make the nesisary calculations in acordance to the colour of the potion.”

Syaoran nodded, and lost some of his usual spunk. “But, I am not yet able to create a proper Sleeping Draught...”

Snape looked at the first year for a moment before getting up and walking out of the room. Syaoran had barely began cleaning up the failed potions, however, when Snape returned with what appeared to be a set of scales. With the simplest flicks of his wand, Snape emptied the cauldrons with the unsuccessful potion in them and set the scales on the table where Syaoran had been working before.

Uncertainly, Syaoran moved to stand before Snape. The cold black eyes met the thick honey of the pupil and he gave a curt nod. “Good, now pay attention, I will not show you how to do this twice.” and with that, Snape began walking Syaoran through, step-by-step, exactly how to make the Sleeping Draught potion.


So it came to my notice right near the beginning of this project that Harry's big event in this book is the creation and continuation of Dumbledore's Army. And seeing as I'm crossing over the storylines for this, it seemed somehow wrong to not have Sakura-tachi attend. But why would any of the Golden Trio invite a triad of first years to this event? Well the answer turned out surprisingly simple.

"U-um..." Hermione spoke up shyly. Why did he always have to have that group of girls around him? All the same he politely turned around and smiled at her in his usual friendly way. "I-I was wondering... if-if you aren't going to Hogsmeed w-with anyone..."

A look of comprehension flashed in his eyes and he was about to answer when his little fan club jumped in in his place. "What, you looking to add Yuki to your little collection?"

"Yeah, you snatched Krum up, and now you're after him too, aren't you?"

"Go away, little girl, Yuki isn't interested in you."

"Now, hold on here!" Yukito objected. He pushed his way back past them and smiled at Hermione again. She knew she was blushing at the sight of his charming radiance, but she couldn't help it. "It's... Miss Granger, right? You're one of the Prefects from fifth year." He acknowledged, his fans were horrified, and Hermione was bashful.

"Y-yes, H-Hermione Granger."

"Right... you have a pretty name, it's Shakespirain, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"Well, Miss Granger, I am very honoured that you would consider including me in your trip to the village, but I'm afraid that I will not be going."

"Oh..." Hermione nodded shyly, but before she left she reached into her bag and pulled out a slip of paper. "I-if you want, me and my friends are meeting here. Come and see us if you change your mind." with that she turned and fled in embarrassment.

"You aren't really going to go, are you!?" demanded one of his fans.

A voice spoke up from farther along the hallway, "Tsukishiro can't be kept away from his precious Kinomotos for too long."

For a moment Yukito actually looked angry at the sight of Nakuru, but quickly covered it up with a polite, if not strained, smile. "Akizuki-san... a pleasure as always, I'm sure..."

Following his lead, Nakuru put on her own sugary sweet smile. "Oh, indeed!" she confirmed. "And how is everyone's favourite little pet doing today?"

The smile on Yukito's face became more strained, "Oh, Kero-chan is fine. What about you and Spinel?"

"I was talking about the other pet." Nakuru pointed out. "And we're both perfectly fine. I'm so looking forward to this Hogsmeed trip! I haven't been there is such a long time!"

"Indeed? Is it a nice scenery?" Yukito asked out of pure politeness.

"Oh yes, it's absolutely stunning." She put her hand on Sakura's hair to ruffle it as she passed, and Yukito had to struggle to stop Yue from bursting out and firing a half million magic missiles at her for touching his precious Mistress. "Too bad you can't go, having to stay here and watch Sakura-chan and all... Ah well, ja ne!"

Sakura watched as Nakuru walked away, both politely said their goodbyes to her before Sakura turned to Yukito. "You were talking about that trip that the older kids go on to go to that town, weren't you?"

"Hai." Yukito responded, as always her word putting all else from his mind.

"Do you want to go?" she asked, as always concerned for other's feelings.

"It's alright, I am happiest at my Mistress's side." He told her, kneeling down and taking her hand.

Sakura frowned slightly at this. "Go ahead and go back to sleep, Yue. I'll be fine here by myself for a day, I have Keifu and Syaoran-kun here with me."

"Are-are you sure?"

"Hai. You go! Have fun!" Sakura insisted. Yukito glanced at the piece of paper for a moment, then smiled back at Sakura in thanks, before being harassed anew on invitations for dates.


And while Yukito is distracted by the above scene, Sakura and Syaoran enjoy some private time in an unusual way.

It was after she caught him looking at his bag where his work was for the fifth time that Sakura finally spoke up. “I am being a distraction, aren't I?”

“N-no! I...” Syaoran stammered, spinning around to look at her once more, blushing deeply at being caught. “I'm sorry, it's just it's important that the work gets done, and my mother expects me to do it, and...”

“Well, I'm sure Keifu would be free right now, you don't have to feel obligated if you're busy.” Sakura pressed once more.

“No! I want--” he flushed and averted his eyes, “just having Sakura near is so nice. Please don't go... I'm sorry I'm not being good company, but please...”

At his heartfelt words, Sakura's cheeks turned to match his own and smiled shyly. “I, too, like being able to be with Syaoran-kun like this, but if I'm in the way of your work, I understand that it's very important...”

“It's no fair, that I have to do all this work all the time and can't be with you...” Syaoran complained.

“Is... I don't suppose there's any way that I could help you, is there?” Sakura bemoaned.

Looking up and blinking at her for a moment, Syaoran got a flash of memory-one of the few things he still recalled about his father-of his own parents working hard together over the official documents, and the idea of such a homely interaction between the two of them made his blush return once more. Then, thinking a little more on it, he came to a decision. “Well, there is one way you could help...”

“Hoe?” Sakura asked as he pulled out the scrolls and laid them out in front of her.

“This here is a list of sales comparing last year to this one. These numbers here are the amounts by month and divided by product. I need to compare them to know any trends that need to be minded. You know: invest in things that are doing well, pull out of products that are failing, things like that. If you could go through and circle where the numbers look different, it would save me a lot of time to just go through and find the red circles and look at them only rather than having to look through everything... that is, if you want to.”

“Un! Leave it to me! I'm so happy that I get to help you!” and with one last bashful smile, the two eleven-year-olds got to work, Sakura on the financing and Syaoran pulled out the homework he had to do on one of the extra classes his mother expected him to keep on top of along with everything else.


And lastly, not everyone who is connected to our heros acutally believe in Harry's story. Some are rather faithful to the Ministry actually, but that doesn't make them bad people. Here's a snippet from Sakura's new friend on the matter.


“So you believe what Harry Potter and Professor Dumbledore are saying?” Rose asked, one brown eyebrow carefully raising an inch.

“Hai... does Rose-chan not?” Sakura asked.

“No, I do not.” she stated proudly. “I believe in the Ministry, we voted Minister Fudge into power so we must have faith in him that he has our best interests at heart. It's fine what you choose to believe, and it's fine that I don't agree with you. There's nothing wrong with us having a difference of opinions.” she assured her oriental friend.

“However,” Rose continued after a slight pause, “Professor Dumbledore is an old man that believes in people quite easily. The Minister listened to what each of them had to say on the matter and says that there's no proof to support any of it. Harry Potter had a very traumatic experience, having to watch that Diggory boy die in the tournament like that, and he was suffering from post-traumatic stress and his mind started playing tricks on him. And with Professor Dumbledore feeding him ideas as an old man starting to go in the head-as old people do-they jumped to conclusions and fabricated one big story up.

“He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is dead. He died before you or me were ever even born, and until there's proof of it otherwise, I'm supporting the Ministry and saying that Harry Potter's a nice young man who enjoys attention a little too much and has become confused from listening too much to a very old man reliving his glory-days.”


And other than that, I've been working some on a prequil that will hopefully clear up some continuity errors that came into play when I first began this project involving events at the end of the manga and the end of the anime and my conecting the two for the sake of this story and my own personal twist on the second movie. Who knows when I'll get it done...