Old Stuff Galore 14 - Fangirl!!!!1#@^
There are two major fandoms that I consider myself a part of: the Lord of the Rings fandom and the Harry Potter fandom. As you may know, both of these fandoms are characterized by the fantastic amount of fanfiction they inspire.
Well, I've never been able somehow to write a decent Lord of the Rings fanfic. The only attempt that lasted for a while was too shameful to post here, and I do believe I destroyed all evidence of it.
As for Harry Potter, there have been a couple of attempts. I will post them here, as they're both a part of my Old Stuff.
The first was written in highschool. I published it in the mugglenet fanfiction section, and received some reviews that made me feel all warm (like eating chocolate after repelling dementors!). So I'm not ashamed.
It's rather longer than most of my entries here, so it's waiting for you just behind the cut.
---------------------------------
Blessed Be (Lycanthropy)
As a sharp wind was ruffling the snow-clad tree boughs, a boy was staring glumly out the window. Three more boys were in the room, all as cheerless as the first, just as nonplussed and timid. Every now and again they’d send a fleeting look at the boy near the window.
Sirius was across the room from him, somewhat pale and gracefully worried. Peter was worried, too, blinking incessantly as he glanced anxiously at Remus. James, ever the practical one, was sitting on his bed, leaning against the wall. His mind was reeling, looking for the proper words to say, but he discarded them one by one. Eventually, he became limp with despair.
At the window, Remus was painfully aware of their glances. He was painfully aware of everything, inside and out, from the neat pile of broken quills on the floor to the raging storm rushing through Hogwarts grounds and through his own flesh. He stared intently out the window: his father’s face seemed to be reflected in the iced-over lake, which was utterly impossible, of course. He tore his gaze from the lake - and it fell instead on the walls of Hagrid’s cabin, half covered with snow. For some reason, they reminded him of his mother: a warm, wooden brown, flecked with white, just like her hair used to be.
Remus groaned, shutting his eyes and the curtains against ruthless reminiscences. The other boys looked at him sharply.
“Moony,” Sirius uttered. The word was wrenched from him - he hadn’t meant to speak at all. But then Remus looked at him, and words began to spill like water.
“Moony I’m sorry it’s terrible but don’t worry you’ll get by we’ll never leave you well that’s what friends are for isn’t it - “
“Padfoot,” James interrupted. “Calm down, mate.”
Sirius bit his lip to stem the tide, and looked at Remus, who hadn’t responded to his disruption. Remus was a statue of ice, and when he spoke his voice was silent but stern.
“I don’t want you to show up tonight. Any of you,” he clarified, looking around at the three.
The boys were stunned into near-identical expressions of indignation.
“We won’t leave you alone, Moony,” said James with conviction. “Not tonight.”
The moon hadn’t risen yet, but the sunset filtered through the curtains and spilled its life’s blood onto Remus’ shoulders, and iron into his voice.
“You will,” he said. “There’s no telling how bad tonight will be… I might hurt you.”
That last sentence hovered in the air, and tied the boys like a Full Body Bind spell. Remus crossed the room and left, and the spell was lifted.
“Come on,” said Sirius immediately. His hand was already on the doorknob when he turned to look at the other two.
“Well?” he demanded, seeing they hadn’t moved.
But Peter was staring at James, almost begging; and James - steadfast, loyal James - shook his head slowly, muttering, “You heard him. He’s right.”
Sirius stood dumbfounded for a moment. This was a highly uncharacteristic approach. When he recovered, he waved his hand, impatient.
“Oh honestly,” he said. “You know that’s rubbish, the wolf doesn’t depend on Remus’ state.”
“No,” James agreed, “not unless there’s something significant. I don’t know, mate, but I think his parents’ death is bloody significant.”
Sirius almost seemed to wilt. “What are we going to do, then?” he whispered.
“We’re going to sit in the common room,” said James, “just like everyone else, and study.”
Twenty minutes later, they were sitting on soft chairs around a table. The table was loaded with books. They looked anticipant, as though waiting to be read, but the only one who had a book open was James. His dripping quill was suspended over his parchment, as though he was about to copy from the book, but he’d been staring at the same spot for the past fifteen minutes. Peter peeked at the parchment hopefully, but he leaned back, disappointed, when he saw that there was nothing on it but ink stains. As for Sirius - he hadn’t touched any of the books. He was tapping the floor nervously with his foot, in tempo with the wolf’s howls.
They filled the Grounds and drenched the castle with agony. Some of the younger students were exchanging horrified whispers, no doubt trading gossip about the maddened ghosts who supposedly lived in the shack. None of the Marauders ever remembered hearing the wolf scream like that, not even before they could keep him company in their animal forms.
It only took a few excruciating minutes before Sirius stopped tapping the floor. His fists landed on the table with a crash and he stood up.
“Right,” he growled, every bit the infuriated dog. “I’m going.”
“To the kitchens?” asked Peter, lighting up at once. “Brilliant, I’m starving - “
“Not to the kitchens, no,” Sirius cut across him. “To the Shack.”
“But I thought Moony said - “
“I don’t care, I’m going. James - “ Sirius turned to his other friend.
James didn’t ask for explanations, but nodded solemnly. “I’ll be waiting to open the door for you,” he said gravely, “when you bring him back.”
Sirius looked at him for a moment, grateful beyond words, and ran out.
Remus Lupin was looking for comfort. Unfortunately, comfort was not to be found on the rough wooden floor of the Shrieking Shack where he sat.
He was huddled in a corner, leaning against the wall at the moment. He’d been moving about the Shack for hours - migrating - from corner to corner, bed to floor, floor to door, door to barred window. The Shack was cold and endless, like space, so vast he couldn’t find his place. He was trapped within it, chained to its confines.
He felt the wolf approach. His golden eyes could follow the moon, though it was still hidden by the earth and the floor. He stood up and moved again, closer to where the moon would rise - closer, to loosen his anger. Blessed be, lycanthropy.
---------------------------------
It was supposed to be a longish fic, centered around the relationship of Sirius and Remus. Each chapter was to be named a little differently: this is "Blessed Be (Lycanthropy)", and there was to be "Blessed Be (Whatever)" and "Blessed Be (I Haven't Really Thought About It)".
If you care enough to ask why it stopped, I couldn't tell you. I just don't know what to do with it now.
Ideas?
P.S: Hey you! Yes, of course I'm talking to you, there's no one else around. If you're reading this, be kind and leave a comment to save me from the terrible feeling that here I am, spilling my heart, and no one even knows I'm doing it. Thanks so much.
Well, I've never been able somehow to write a decent Lord of the Rings fanfic. The only attempt that lasted for a while was too shameful to post here, and I do believe I destroyed all evidence of it.
As for Harry Potter, there have been a couple of attempts. I will post them here, as they're both a part of my Old Stuff.
The first was written in highschool. I published it in the mugglenet fanfiction section, and received some reviews that made me feel all warm (like eating chocolate after repelling dementors!). So I'm not ashamed.
It's rather longer than most of my entries here, so it's waiting for you just behind the cut.
---------------------------------
Blessed Be (Lycanthropy)
As a sharp wind was ruffling the snow-clad tree boughs, a boy was staring glumly out the window. Three more boys were in the room, all as cheerless as the first, just as nonplussed and timid. Every now and again they’d send a fleeting look at the boy near the window.
Sirius was across the room from him, somewhat pale and gracefully worried. Peter was worried, too, blinking incessantly as he glanced anxiously at Remus. James, ever the practical one, was sitting on his bed, leaning against the wall. His mind was reeling, looking for the proper words to say, but he discarded them one by one. Eventually, he became limp with despair.
At the window, Remus was painfully aware of their glances. He was painfully aware of everything, inside and out, from the neat pile of broken quills on the floor to the raging storm rushing through Hogwarts grounds and through his own flesh. He stared intently out the window: his father’s face seemed to be reflected in the iced-over lake, which was utterly impossible, of course. He tore his gaze from the lake - and it fell instead on the walls of Hagrid’s cabin, half covered with snow. For some reason, they reminded him of his mother: a warm, wooden brown, flecked with white, just like her hair used to be.
Remus groaned, shutting his eyes and the curtains against ruthless reminiscences. The other boys looked at him sharply.
“Moony,” Sirius uttered. The word was wrenched from him - he hadn’t meant to speak at all. But then Remus looked at him, and words began to spill like water.
“Moony I’m sorry it’s terrible but don’t worry you’ll get by we’ll never leave you well that’s what friends are for isn’t it - “
“Padfoot,” James interrupted. “Calm down, mate.”
Sirius bit his lip to stem the tide, and looked at Remus, who hadn’t responded to his disruption. Remus was a statue of ice, and when he spoke his voice was silent but stern.
“I don’t want you to show up tonight. Any of you,” he clarified, looking around at the three.
The boys were stunned into near-identical expressions of indignation.
“We won’t leave you alone, Moony,” said James with conviction. “Not tonight.”
The moon hadn’t risen yet, but the sunset filtered through the curtains and spilled its life’s blood onto Remus’ shoulders, and iron into his voice.
“You will,” he said. “There’s no telling how bad tonight will be… I might hurt you.”
That last sentence hovered in the air, and tied the boys like a Full Body Bind spell. Remus crossed the room and left, and the spell was lifted.
“Come on,” said Sirius immediately. His hand was already on the doorknob when he turned to look at the other two.
“Well?” he demanded, seeing they hadn’t moved.
But Peter was staring at James, almost begging; and James - steadfast, loyal James - shook his head slowly, muttering, “You heard him. He’s right.”
Sirius stood dumbfounded for a moment. This was a highly uncharacteristic approach. When he recovered, he waved his hand, impatient.
“Oh honestly,” he said. “You know that’s rubbish, the wolf doesn’t depend on Remus’ state.”
“No,” James agreed, “not unless there’s something significant. I don’t know, mate, but I think his parents’ death is bloody significant.”
Sirius almost seemed to wilt. “What are we going to do, then?” he whispered.
“We’re going to sit in the common room,” said James, “just like everyone else, and study.”
Twenty minutes later, they were sitting on soft chairs around a table. The table was loaded with books. They looked anticipant, as though waiting to be read, but the only one who had a book open was James. His dripping quill was suspended over his parchment, as though he was about to copy from the book, but he’d been staring at the same spot for the past fifteen minutes. Peter peeked at the parchment hopefully, but he leaned back, disappointed, when he saw that there was nothing on it but ink stains. As for Sirius - he hadn’t touched any of the books. He was tapping the floor nervously with his foot, in tempo with the wolf’s howls.
They filled the Grounds and drenched the castle with agony. Some of the younger students were exchanging horrified whispers, no doubt trading gossip about the maddened ghosts who supposedly lived in the shack. None of the Marauders ever remembered hearing the wolf scream like that, not even before they could keep him company in their animal forms.
It only took a few excruciating minutes before Sirius stopped tapping the floor. His fists landed on the table with a crash and he stood up.
“Right,” he growled, every bit the infuriated dog. “I’m going.”
“To the kitchens?” asked Peter, lighting up at once. “Brilliant, I’m starving - “
“Not to the kitchens, no,” Sirius cut across him. “To the Shack.”
“But I thought Moony said - “
“I don’t care, I’m going. James - “ Sirius turned to his other friend.
James didn’t ask for explanations, but nodded solemnly. “I’ll be waiting to open the door for you,” he said gravely, “when you bring him back.”
Sirius looked at him for a moment, grateful beyond words, and ran out.
Remus Lupin was looking for comfort. Unfortunately, comfort was not to be found on the rough wooden floor of the Shrieking Shack where he sat.
He was huddled in a corner, leaning against the wall at the moment. He’d been moving about the Shack for hours - migrating - from corner to corner, bed to floor, floor to door, door to barred window. The Shack was cold and endless, like space, so vast he couldn’t find his place. He was trapped within it, chained to its confines.
He felt the wolf approach. His golden eyes could follow the moon, though it was still hidden by the earth and the floor. He stood up and moved again, closer to where the moon would rise - closer, to loosen his anger. Blessed be, lycanthropy.
---------------------------------
It was supposed to be a longish fic, centered around the relationship of Sirius and Remus. Each chapter was to be named a little differently: this is "Blessed Be (Lycanthropy)", and there was to be "Blessed Be (Whatever)" and "Blessed Be (I Haven't Really Thought About It)".
If you care enough to ask why it stopped, I couldn't tell you. I just don't know what to do with it now.
Ideas?
P.S: Hey you! Yes, of course I'm talking to you, there's no one else around. If you're reading this, be kind and leave a comment to save me from the terrible feeling that here I am, spilling my heart, and no one even knows I'm doing it. Thanks so much.