No challenge; The Letters of Albus Dumbledore, 11
Title: The Letters of Albus Dumbledore
Summary: The collected letters of Albus Dumbledore from 1899 to 1945, from his last days as a student at Hogwarts to the defeat of Gellert Grindelwald in 1945.
Characters/Pairings: Dumbledore/Grindelwald, slight hints of Doge/Dumbledore
Genre: Mock-historical letter biography, aka gen
Beta: shally-wa of fanfiction.net
Rating/Warnings: PG for suggestive...ness
Medium: multi-chapter ongoing fic
Word Count: 893
July 15th, 1899
Dear Gellert,
I am beginning to understand the heart of your argument regarding the Statute of Secrecy. Indeed I confess to spending long hours as a child wondering why I wasn't allowed to share my toy broomstick with my Muggle neighbors. Surely, I reasoned, it would delight them to experience flight, even if it was only as high as two feet off the ground. Though I persisted in asking my mother why it was necessary to keep that integral part of myself hidden, she never answered to my satisfaction. I stopped asking altogether when Ariana was a child. Now that you are here, that part of me has been reopened, and I find I am as little satisfied now as I was then.
Ariana. Would her life be easier in your ideal world? Would the absence of secrecy heal or harm? I do not know. There is much to consider. We take for granted so much of what is denied her by the volatility of her condition. She cannot do something so simple as to go out in public unsupervised, lest she cause a disturbance and alert the local Muggles to her existence. Even Aberforth would be forced to agree that this denial of independence during her formative years has done her more harm than good. Perhaps we
Where was I? Blast! I no longer recall. Perhaps I've taken too much port.
Pardon my lapse. I was interrupted by Aberforth. 'Speak of the boggart,' and all that. He wanted to know if I planned to pass tomorrow with you as usual. When I told him I did, he grunted at me and left. Apparently, the same question from me was beneath his dignity to answer.
Surely he understands that I would be happy to entertain you here if he needed to be elsewhere for the day. Why, if he told me he wanted to converse with the locals about goat husbandry in the village square I would wish him a good day and ask him to pick up a pot of ink at market. No; he must carry on as if he is making some great sacrifice in the face of my unending selfishness. Well tosh to him. I refuse to curtail my social life if he will not deign to grace me with his extremely important plans.
Here - I researched the Bard, as you requested. Find attached a cutting from last Autumn's Time Enough. It was their issue on influential writers. Sadly, as I predicted, it appears that old Beedle likely had nothing to do with our Hallows except as a chronicler, but the clipping does hold one item of interest.
Ah! I remember! I found a lead on the Elder Wand! I took the liberty of writing young Horatio Ollivander in London, the old wandmaker's apprentice. He was most happy to write at length of his rival on the continent, Vladimir Gregorovitch. He confirms that it is Gregorovitch who claims to have found the Elder Wand. The man is a Russian expatriate in Prussia, so I suppose he must be short on ways to drum up business.
Would it be terribly forward of me to propose that we find him together? You need not worry for Ariana; I believe that a little travel would do her very well. We would not be able to leave until winter, however. It will take some time for me to finalize my affairs here. But do not fret. Together, I imagine we will be quite cozy.
Remind me to buy Ariana a new feather when we go to market tomorrow. She has been spending far too much time out of doors looking for them. I have lately seen very little of her.
Yours,
Albus [Hallows symbol]
*
[clipping from Time Enough, Autumn 1898. Author unknown.]
"...and all they found of him was a single yellow shoe.
Beedle Bede (est. 1410-1490), was born in Yorkshire, England
to a half-blood family of traveling scholars. Consequently, young
Bede spent much of his childhood on the road, and there developed
a taste for how the same story varied from one locale to the next.
At the estimated age of twenty, his family settled for a time in
Godric's Hollow. There, he began to compile these stories into a
single volume that he would later distill into his most famous
work, The Tales of Beedle the Bard. Regarded as odd by..."
Great things begin and end in Godric's Hollow.
-A.
*
Notes
Vladimir Gregorovitch was the primary maker of wands for North Eastern Europe for nearly ninety years. In 1895, he began to circulate rumors that he had located the legendary Elder Wand in order to resurrect his failing business. The claim worked, and soon Witches and Wizards from all over Europe began to flock to his door in search of wands derived from the study of the Elder Wand. He was killed by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named in 1997 for the same rumor.
Horatio Ollivander was one of the most celebrated wandmakers to have ever lived. He standardized the three core system (unicorn hair, phoenix feather, and dragon heartstring), still in use in Britain today. He was held captive by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named for nearly two years for his knowledge of wandlore. His niece, Hippolyta Ollivander, inherited his business in 2001 upon her uncle's death. He was 121 years old.
Happy ThursdayTuesday!!! :D
893/30 -> 29.7 30 points for Slytherin! (That's something, right?)
Summary: The collected letters of Albus Dumbledore from 1899 to 1945, from his last days as a student at Hogwarts to the defeat of Gellert Grindelwald in 1945.
Characters/Pairings: Dumbledore/Grindelwald, slight hints of Doge/Dumbledore
Genre: Mock-historical letter biography, aka gen
Beta: shally-wa of fanfiction.net
Rating/Warnings: PG for suggestive...ness
Medium: multi-chapter ongoing fic
Word Count: 893
July 15th, 1899
Dear Gellert,
I am beginning to understand the heart of your argument regarding the Statute of Secrecy. Indeed I confess to spending long hours as a child wondering why I wasn't allowed to share my toy broomstick with my Muggle neighbors. Surely, I reasoned, it would delight them to experience flight, even if it was only as high as two feet off the ground. Though I persisted in asking my mother why it was necessary to keep that integral part of myself hidden, she never answered to my satisfaction. I stopped asking altogether when Ariana was a child. Now that you are here, that part of me has been reopened, and I find I am as little satisfied now as I was then.
Ariana. Would her life be easier in your ideal world? Would the absence of secrecy heal or harm? I do not know. There is much to consider. We take for granted so much of what is denied her by the volatility of her condition. She cannot do something so simple as to go out in public unsupervised, lest she cause a disturbance and alert the local Muggles to her existence. Even Aberforth would be forced to agree that this denial of independence during her formative years has done her more harm than good. Perhaps we
Where was I? Blast! I no longer recall. Perhaps I've taken too much port.
Pardon my lapse. I was interrupted by Aberforth. 'Speak of the boggart,' and all that. He wanted to know if I planned to pass tomorrow with you as usual. When I told him I did, he grunted at me and left. Apparently, the same question from me was beneath his dignity to answer.
Surely he understands that I would be happy to entertain you here if he needed to be elsewhere for the day. Why, if he told me he wanted to converse with the locals about goat husbandry in the village square I would wish him a good day and ask him to pick up a pot of ink at market. No; he must carry on as if he is making some great sacrifice in the face of my unending selfishness. Well tosh to him. I refuse to curtail my social life if he will not deign to grace me with his extremely important plans.
Here - I researched the Bard, as you requested. Find attached a cutting from last Autumn's Time Enough. It was their issue on influential writers. Sadly, as I predicted, it appears that old Beedle likely had nothing to do with our Hallows except as a chronicler, but the clipping does hold one item of interest.
Ah! I remember! I found a lead on the Elder Wand! I took the liberty of writing young Horatio Ollivander in London, the old wandmaker's apprentice. He was most happy to write at length of his rival on the continent, Vladimir Gregorovitch. He confirms that it is Gregorovitch who claims to have found the Elder Wand. The man is a Russian expatriate in Prussia, so I suppose he must be short on ways to drum up business.
Would it be terribly forward of me to propose that we find him together? You need not worry for Ariana; I believe that a little travel would do her very well. We would not be able to leave until winter, however. It will take some time for me to finalize my affairs here. But do not fret. Together, I imagine we will be quite cozy.
Remind me to buy Ariana a new feather when we go to market tomorrow. She has been spending far too much time out of doors looking for them. I have lately seen very little of her.
Yours,
Albus [Hallows symbol]
*
[clipping from Time Enough, Autumn 1898. Author unknown.]
"...and all they found of him was a single yellow shoe.
Beedle Bede (est. 1410-1490), was born in Yorkshire, England
to a half-blood family of traveling scholars. Consequently, young
Bede spent much of his childhood on the road, and there developed
a taste for how the same story varied from one locale to the next.
At the estimated age of twenty, his family settled for a time in
Godric's Hollow. There, he began to compile these stories into a
single volume that he would later distill into his most famous
work, The Tales of Beedle the Bard. Regarded as odd by..."
Great things begin and end in Godric's Hollow.
-A.
*
Notes
Vladimir Gregorovitch was the primary maker of wands for North Eastern Europe for nearly ninety years. In 1895, he began to circulate rumors that he had located the legendary Elder Wand in order to resurrect his failing business. The claim worked, and soon Witches and Wizards from all over Europe began to flock to his door in search of wands derived from the study of the Elder Wand. He was killed by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named in 1997 for the same rumor.
Horatio Ollivander was one of the most celebrated wandmakers to have ever lived. He standardized the three core system (unicorn hair, phoenix feather, and dragon heartstring), still in use in Britain today. He was held captive by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named for nearly two years for his knowledge of wandlore. His niece, Hippolyta Ollivander, inherited his business in 2001 upon her uncle's death. He was 121 years old.
Happy ThursdayTuesday!!! :D
893/30 -> 29.7 30 points for Slytherin! (That's something, right?)