R O D N E Y spells love
Working on two stories at once is trying for someone with a fairly flaky attention span. I'm just about 6,000 words into my crossover fic, yet only about 1,000 into the Ernie sequel. Huh. Both shall get done eventually, though.
As I'm unsure of what sort of readership this crossover will get, since I'm writing it mainly for my own and for civilbloodshed's amusement, I've decided to post a snippet of Rodney in Slytherin. No, he's not british, and everyone else is their own nationality from SGA. I promise it works in the context of the story, and I promise it's not stupid. Also, this is set in the HP universe year 2011. So I've fucked with everyone's ages, but it's all good. Also, also, there are only a smattering of HP canon characters, and not the one's you'd probably expect. Well, unless you know which minor characters I tend to favor. And no, the Professor Weasley mentioned in this part is not Ron. Also, also, also, even though this is mainly me throwing SGA characters into the HP world, there will be a surpising amount of stargate-ish references. I think. This one's bound to be longer than my other pieces.
Thoughts about Rodney's characterization (and the others', too) are most welcome.
“If you do not hurry, there will be no time for pancakes,” Radek stated, giving them a hard stare over the rims of his glasses, “and I will make you all pay.”
The stare was effective enough to get Stackhouse and Flicker moving, and the mention of pancakes managed to bolster Rodney out of bed and into his robes, book-heavy satchel draped over his shoulder. He’d learned how to spell it light years ago, thank god, or he’d have surely been a hunchback by then.
Cadman and Bates were waiting impatiently at the bottom of the steps, and Rodney snapped, “Why the hell is breakfast always a group effort?” but without much heat. He didn’t really have the energy for proper scoldings before his first cup of coffee. Bleary-eyed glares were usually the best he could do until after ten.
In the Great Hall, the Gryffindors were ridiculously wound up. Rodney wondered absently about it for a second, got distracted by a donut, and then Cadman started blathering on about Carson and uniforms and Rodney thought, Oh, right. Quidditch. First game of the year.
Rodney was torn between the novelty of having a Friday afternoon free of classes and the obvious monumental waste of time.
Opposite him, Radek eyed him curiously. “So. How was last night?”
Rodney swallowed a bit of eggs and grinned smugly. “Good. Perfect. I’ve got the book, so now it’s just a matter of reshaping the courtyard.” They couldn’t actually destroy the webbing of magic, since anyone with half a brain knew that something that drastic would instantly alert either the Headmistress or Professor Weasley.
Bates gave a warning growl, and Rodney glanced up to see a jittery young Gyrffindor approaching their table, black hair slicked back in a high ponytail, small fingers twisting the front of her robe. He thought he’d heard Sheppard address her as Miko before, but he wasn’t sure, nor did he really care. He tended to just call her, “You,” and occasionally, “Jojo the dancing monkey” - although that one often made her cry, and a sobbing, wet Gryffindor was possibly worse than an un-cowed Hufflepuff. She had a relatively good brain, though, and was excellent at following directions, so he shot Bates a ‘back off’ glare before scowling up at her. Well, sort of over at her, actually, since she was also very, very tiny, despite being a fourth year - and he only knew that, of course, because he refused to let anyone younger than that work on his pet experiments.
“Jojo,” he said sharply, and her lower lip only quivered a very little bit - honestly, it was high time she just got used to his abrasiveness; it wasn’t as if it was personal - “what have you got for me today?”
“Um,” she pushed her glasses up her snub nose and drew a scroll out of her robes, unrolling it so slowly that Rodney snapped his fingers impatiently in a hurry-up motion. She cleared her throat. “Um, well. It turned blue.”
Rodney stared at her. “Blue.”
“Yes, we-”
“Blue, when it was completely impossible for it to turn blue, unless you added bezoar, which I clearly stated would ruin the whole potion.” He snatched the parchment out of her hands, skimming through the cataloged step-by-step results.
Miko blinked. “I don’t recal-”
“Of course you don’t. Why would you?” he snarled. “It was only written in large bold print, but I’ve obviously misjudged your level of reading comprehension, and what do you mean ‘we?’” He eyed her suspiciously. Rodney’s forays in spell reform, efficiency, and potion effectiveness versus potion effects were not common knowledge. Well, not common knowledge in the way that everyone knew about them, but nobody said anything. And, also, his minions did not share projects without his express permission.
The girl actually blushed. “The third step was giving me trouble, the numbers weren’t adding up, and Calvin was on his way back from-”
“Calvin?” Rodney cut in, incredulous. “Calvin Kavanagh? You let that imbecile near my-oh. Oh god. I feel dirty. Did he touch this?” He dropped the curving parchment onto the tabletop and leaned away, disgusted sneer on this face. “I can feel my genius being sucked right out through my pores.”
“Calm down, Rodney,” Radek said, rolling his eyes. “You cannot catch his stupidity, remember?”
“I remember,” Rodney stressed, gaze still narrowed on the offending paper, “but that doesn’t mean I should take unnecessary risks, does it?” Rodney had been constantly surprised by magic his entire life. There was always something new to learn, some variant making itself known for the first time, some mutation or bastardization of a magical thread that no one had seen before. He’d learned early on how to manipulate the world around him, how to create and destroy in his own sort of shorthand, but that only meant he was even more aware of all the possible ways magic could go wrong. And not just dark magic, which was a common misconception. All magic; elemental, ancient, hybrid, light, dark. All of it was just an accident waiting to happen.
“You,” he growled at Miko. “Take this and disappear.” He palmed his wand and set about scourgifying the wooden surface and his left hand. “I swear, they’re getting more incompetent each year.”
“I do not see how,” Radek said, “with your sweet disposition.”
“Like you’re one to talk,” Rodney scoffed. “Half the first year Ravenclaws are terrified you’ll eat them.”
Radek shrugged. “You made a Hufflepuff wet his pants last term.”
Rodney grimaced. “God, don’t remind me. Not my best moment. Or his.”
“You’re both scary,” Cadman put in cheerfully, and not for the first time, Rodney really wondered what she was doing in Slytherin. Although she was really good at explosive spells and bugging the crap out of Rodney. He figured that might’ve been enough for the Sorting Hat. If she hadn’t been placed under it before him, he would’ve suspected that she’d asked for Slytherin, just to be as gratingly close to him as possible.
Bates growled again, but it was slightly belated, and Rodney felt a heavy hand fall on his shoulder.
“McKay,” Sheppard said from behind him, all polite and sharp. “Can I have a word?”
“I’m eating,” Rodney groused, tearing apart a piece of biscuit. The Gryffindor’s grip tightened and Rodney gave a pained yelp. “Fine, all right, let go, you savage!”
Sheppard backed up, hands at his sides and a tight, not at all nice grin on his face.
Rodney huffed and got to his feet, straightening out his robes before arching a questioning brow.
“Over here,” Sheppard said, and crooked a finger for him to follow.
Sometimes, he suspected Sheppard merely tolerated him. Rodney inspired a large amount of fear and hate, an occasional bout of misplaced hero-worship, but not many people bothered to tolerate him. It was entirely too passive-aggressive an approach to his larger-than-life personality. He genuinely liked Sheppard, though, so he waded through their odd friendship and pathetically lived for the times when he could make the other boy smile.
He was afraid he was obvious about it, but Cadman and Radek were the only ones who ever called him on it.
Sheppard crossed his arms over his chest and turned to face Rodney once they stepped out of the Hall. “You made Miko cry,” he said.
“She made an incredibly moronic mistake, and set me back weeks. Well, probably not weeks,” Rodney amended. “Weeks for anyone else, yes, but if I work through it myself, I should be able to-”
“McKay,” Sheppard drawled, and his entire stance was one long, lean warning. How he did that while wearing billowing robes, Rodney didn’t have a clue.
“She’s overly sensitive,” Rodney protested. “I didn’t set out to make her cry. It just happened!”
“I don’t care. You’re gonna have to apologize.”
“Apolo-oh, you have got to be kidding me.” Rodney McKay didn’t apologize. Everyone would say he’d gone soft. Hufflepuffs would start trying to have conversations with him. It would be pure anarchy.
Sheppard just stared at him, hazel eyes hard. He was ridiculously stubborn about the strangest things.
“Oh, fine. But if Ford approaches me without you-”
“You’ll be civil and mannerly,” Sheppard finished for him.
Rodney glared and the Gryffindor finally broke out into a loose grin, unhooking his arms and sliding one over the stiff set of Rodney’s shoulders. He urged him around and back into the Hall, and Rodney’s lips twisted sourly for show, since the weight of Sheppard against him always made him slightly giddy.
“You’ll be at the game later, right?” Sheppard asked, tone playful.
Rodney sniffed. “If I have nothing better to do.”
As I'm unsure of what sort of readership this crossover will get, since I'm writing it mainly for my own and for civilbloodshed's amusement, I've decided to post a snippet of Rodney in Slytherin. No, he's not british, and everyone else is their own nationality from SGA. I promise it works in the context of the story, and I promise it's not stupid. Also, this is set in the HP universe year 2011. So I've fucked with everyone's ages, but it's all good. Also, also, there are only a smattering of HP canon characters, and not the one's you'd probably expect. Well, unless you know which minor characters I tend to favor. And no, the Professor Weasley mentioned in this part is not Ron. Also, also, also, even though this is mainly me throwing SGA characters into the HP world, there will be a surpising amount of stargate-ish references. I think. This one's bound to be longer than my other pieces.
Thoughts about Rodney's characterization (and the others', too) are most welcome.
“If you do not hurry, there will be no time for pancakes,” Radek stated, giving them a hard stare over the rims of his glasses, “and I will make you all pay.”
The stare was effective enough to get Stackhouse and Flicker moving, and the mention of pancakes managed to bolster Rodney out of bed and into his robes, book-heavy satchel draped over his shoulder. He’d learned how to spell it light years ago, thank god, or he’d have surely been a hunchback by then.
Cadman and Bates were waiting impatiently at the bottom of the steps, and Rodney snapped, “Why the hell is breakfast always a group effort?” but without much heat. He didn’t really have the energy for proper scoldings before his first cup of coffee. Bleary-eyed glares were usually the best he could do until after ten.
In the Great Hall, the Gryffindors were ridiculously wound up. Rodney wondered absently about it for a second, got distracted by a donut, and then Cadman started blathering on about Carson and uniforms and Rodney thought, Oh, right. Quidditch. First game of the year.
Rodney was torn between the novelty of having a Friday afternoon free of classes and the obvious monumental waste of time.
Opposite him, Radek eyed him curiously. “So. How was last night?”
Rodney swallowed a bit of eggs and grinned smugly. “Good. Perfect. I’ve got the book, so now it’s just a matter of reshaping the courtyard.” They couldn’t actually destroy the webbing of magic, since anyone with half a brain knew that something that drastic would instantly alert either the Headmistress or Professor Weasley.
Bates gave a warning growl, and Rodney glanced up to see a jittery young Gyrffindor approaching their table, black hair slicked back in a high ponytail, small fingers twisting the front of her robe. He thought he’d heard Sheppard address her as Miko before, but he wasn’t sure, nor did he really care. He tended to just call her, “You,” and occasionally, “Jojo the dancing monkey” - although that one often made her cry, and a sobbing, wet Gryffindor was possibly worse than an un-cowed Hufflepuff. She had a relatively good brain, though, and was excellent at following directions, so he shot Bates a ‘back off’ glare before scowling up at her. Well, sort of over at her, actually, since she was also very, very tiny, despite being a fourth year - and he only knew that, of course, because he refused to let anyone younger than that work on his pet experiments.
“Jojo,” he said sharply, and her lower lip only quivered a very little bit - honestly, it was high time she just got used to his abrasiveness; it wasn’t as if it was personal - “what have you got for me today?”
“Um,” she pushed her glasses up her snub nose and drew a scroll out of her robes, unrolling it so slowly that Rodney snapped his fingers impatiently in a hurry-up motion. She cleared her throat. “Um, well. It turned blue.”
Rodney stared at her. “Blue.”
“Yes, we-”
“Blue, when it was completely impossible for it to turn blue, unless you added bezoar, which I clearly stated would ruin the whole potion.” He snatched the parchment out of her hands, skimming through the cataloged step-by-step results.
Miko blinked. “I don’t recal-”
“Of course you don’t. Why would you?” he snarled. “It was only written in large bold print, but I’ve obviously misjudged your level of reading comprehension, and what do you mean ‘we?’” He eyed her suspiciously. Rodney’s forays in spell reform, efficiency, and potion effectiveness versus potion effects were not common knowledge. Well, not common knowledge in the way that everyone knew about them, but nobody said anything. And, also, his minions did not share projects without his express permission.
The girl actually blushed. “The third step was giving me trouble, the numbers weren’t adding up, and Calvin was on his way back from-”
“Calvin?” Rodney cut in, incredulous. “Calvin Kavanagh? You let that imbecile near my-oh. Oh god. I feel dirty. Did he touch this?” He dropped the curving parchment onto the tabletop and leaned away, disgusted sneer on this face. “I can feel my genius being sucked right out through my pores.”
“Calm down, Rodney,” Radek said, rolling his eyes. “You cannot catch his stupidity, remember?”
“I remember,” Rodney stressed, gaze still narrowed on the offending paper, “but that doesn’t mean I should take unnecessary risks, does it?” Rodney had been constantly surprised by magic his entire life. There was always something new to learn, some variant making itself known for the first time, some mutation or bastardization of a magical thread that no one had seen before. He’d learned early on how to manipulate the world around him, how to create and destroy in his own sort of shorthand, but that only meant he was even more aware of all the possible ways magic could go wrong. And not just dark magic, which was a common misconception. All magic; elemental, ancient, hybrid, light, dark. All of it was just an accident waiting to happen.
“You,” he growled at Miko. “Take this and disappear.” He palmed his wand and set about scourgifying the wooden surface and his left hand. “I swear, they’re getting more incompetent each year.”
“I do not see how,” Radek said, “with your sweet disposition.”
“Like you’re one to talk,” Rodney scoffed. “Half the first year Ravenclaws are terrified you’ll eat them.”
Radek shrugged. “You made a Hufflepuff wet his pants last term.”
Rodney grimaced. “God, don’t remind me. Not my best moment. Or his.”
“You’re both scary,” Cadman put in cheerfully, and not for the first time, Rodney really wondered what she was doing in Slytherin. Although she was really good at explosive spells and bugging the crap out of Rodney. He figured that might’ve been enough for the Sorting Hat. If she hadn’t been placed under it before him, he would’ve suspected that she’d asked for Slytherin, just to be as gratingly close to him as possible.
Bates growled again, but it was slightly belated, and Rodney felt a heavy hand fall on his shoulder.
“McKay,” Sheppard said from behind him, all polite and sharp. “Can I have a word?”
“I’m eating,” Rodney groused, tearing apart a piece of biscuit. The Gryffindor’s grip tightened and Rodney gave a pained yelp. “Fine, all right, let go, you savage!”
Sheppard backed up, hands at his sides and a tight, not at all nice grin on his face.
Rodney huffed and got to his feet, straightening out his robes before arching a questioning brow.
“Over here,” Sheppard said, and crooked a finger for him to follow.
Sometimes, he suspected Sheppard merely tolerated him. Rodney inspired a large amount of fear and hate, an occasional bout of misplaced hero-worship, but not many people bothered to tolerate him. It was entirely too passive-aggressive an approach to his larger-than-life personality. He genuinely liked Sheppard, though, so he waded through their odd friendship and pathetically lived for the times when he could make the other boy smile.
He was afraid he was obvious about it, but Cadman and Radek were the only ones who ever called him on it.
Sheppard crossed his arms over his chest and turned to face Rodney once they stepped out of the Hall. “You made Miko cry,” he said.
“She made an incredibly moronic mistake, and set me back weeks. Well, probably not weeks,” Rodney amended. “Weeks for anyone else, yes, but if I work through it myself, I should be able to-”
“McKay,” Sheppard drawled, and his entire stance was one long, lean warning. How he did that while wearing billowing robes, Rodney didn’t have a clue.
“She’s overly sensitive,” Rodney protested. “I didn’t set out to make her cry. It just happened!”
“I don’t care. You’re gonna have to apologize.”
“Apolo-oh, you have got to be kidding me.” Rodney McKay didn’t apologize. Everyone would say he’d gone soft. Hufflepuffs would start trying to have conversations with him. It would be pure anarchy.
Sheppard just stared at him, hazel eyes hard. He was ridiculously stubborn about the strangest things.
“Oh, fine. But if Ford approaches me without you-”
“You’ll be civil and mannerly,” Sheppard finished for him.
Rodney glared and the Gryffindor finally broke out into a loose grin, unhooking his arms and sliding one over the stiff set of Rodney’s shoulders. He urged him around and back into the Hall, and Rodney’s lips twisted sourly for show, since the weight of Sheppard against him always made him slightly giddy.
“You’ll be at the game later, right?” Sheppard asked, tone playful.
Rodney sniffed. “If I have nothing better to do.”