(Untitled)
Amy has been coming to Milliways for a while now.
She can remember when the lake had not yet met the ocean, when there were neither mountains nor a baseball diamond, when you had to take care not to wander out of the woods and into the Dreaming.
She has seen friends transformed, attacked, enchanted, and with no idea of their own identity ( Read more... )
She can remember when the lake had not yet met the ocean, when there were neither mountains nor a baseball diamond, when you had to take care not to wander out of the woods and into the Dreaming.
She has seen friends transformed, attacked, enchanted, and with no idea of their own identity ( Read more... )
"It would seem to be 'sailor's delight' this evening, would it not, madam?"
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"And, of course, it remains to be seen if they'll need to take warning come the dawn."
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Dumbledore looks out over the landscape.
"Much like Milliways herself, I have found."
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"I know of the sea mostly by hearsay.
"I'm Amy."
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The introduction is accompanied by a courtly bow.
"I have had little opportunity to travel the waves myself. On one of the rare occasions I did so, I fear choppy seas combined with an overindulgence of pumpkin pasties led to rather disastrous results."
"I have mostly stuck to other means of travel."
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"I've enjoyed sailing, the few times I've had the opportunity.
"But I've never encountered pumpkin pastries. I shall bear in mind that should not be combined with sea travel, though, if I ever do."
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Not that he's ever had any real problems with his constitution. Nothing that a peppermint humbug or two won't cure, generally.
"Tell me, Amy, how fares the view from your perch?"
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"I didn't really climb up here for the view.
"I just haven't had the opportunity to climb a tree lately, and I was once told this one liked me.
"At least I think it was this one."
It was many years ago.
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The branches curve in a friendly sort of way, making a comfortable seat. Speaking of seats, Dumbledore takes out his wand and waves a small flourish at the ground. A plump, mossy armchair springs from the earth.
Dumbledore takes a seat, but he still has a clear eyeline to the young woman in the tree.
"Is it a lack of friendly trees, an overabundance of responsibility, or the need to keep up the camouflage of adulthood that has prevented you from climbing trees?"
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And, occasionally, pregnancy.
"That was a very neat trick, with the chair.
"Are you a wizard or a magician?"
They can be ever so particular about the terminology.
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"A wizard. In my world, at least among my kind, 'magician' fell out of fashion some time ago."
His eyes twinkle.
"I believe it was around the time Muggles began to find ways to fit rabbit-sized false bottoms into their hats and appropriated the term."
"May I ask in turn what it is that you do?"
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"And I have Court Magician.
"He's a lovely man. Lord Terence.
"Never seen him do anything with hats, though."
But then, she is from rather before the appropriation of which he has spoken.
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In any world.
"Perhaps you might suggest it to your Lord Terence. It might be the spark of an unexpected and brilliant innovation of some sort."
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"Suggest what?
"Producing rabbits from false-bottomed hats?"
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Dumbldore's countenance has taken on a decidedly mischievous look.
"Or you could just suggest a project regarding hats and see what he devises. When I was still teaching, I would occasionally give such assignments for extra credit, just to see what my students would do when allowed a bit of creativity."
"One of them did involve hats, now that I think of it. I had a student who transfigured a goose-down quilt into hat. Very warm, though it did keep sprouting wings and flying off one's head."
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"Do you reach magic, then, Albus?"
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