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I am breathing, I promise
To all of you, I say MEH. Meh, meh, MEH.
To you two, I say thank you.![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
scheherezhad, I especially liked the Pimp Police. *beams*
And now, since this was originally supposed to be released with the prologue:
~*~*~*~*~
Chapter 1
~*~*~*~*~
Three Months Later
June 1, 2003
Harry Potter lifted a pale hand and ran his fingers through his hair, staring morosely out the window of Hogwarts Express. If there was one thing he was beginning to hate, it was the Anti-Apparition wards that still lay on Hogwarts grounds. Although, if he were truly honest with himself, he felt nostalgic when he saw the hills and plains spanning the length of the tracks. He was going to see his friends again. What did they call me back for anyway? Harry wondered, and looked around the empty cabin as the train began to slow. The door slid open abruptly as the train finished its stop, and Harry started, his head jerking to the side. “Draco?”
“Argh!” Draco proclaimed eloquently, tossing himself in the train compartment with an irritated sigh. He plopped himself on the seat opposite of Harry and glared daggers at the piece of parchment in his hand. He rubbed the point of his quill against his bottom lip as he scowled. “What kind of stupid Muggle entertainment would focus on a singing orphan girl anyway?” Draco growled, vexed at the very idea he should know anything at all about Muggles. “She’s poor! She doesn’t have any reason to sing!”
Harry struggled against a surprised laugh and tilted his head to look at the other boy. “Annie.”
Draco jumped at the sound of Harry’s voice, and his eyes narrowed into suspicious slits. “What?”
“The ‘entertainment’ with the orphan. Annie.” Harry looked back out the window as Draco shot him a perplexed look and wrote ‘Annie’ on his sheet of parchment.
Draco surprised Harry with a delighted laugh, and Harry looked quizzically at his rival, who gave him a small smile. “I’m horrible at these things,” Draco confided, gesturing to the crossword puzzle.
Harry gave Draco an answering smile. “So am I.”
“You’ll have to walk from here,” a firm voice declared. It was the trolley lady, but the war had taken her smile along with her cart of wizarding sweets. “The battles damaged the tracks from here to the station.”
“I know,” Harry declared coolly. “I’ve been here before.” He retrieved his suitcases from the luggage rack above his head and stepped out of the room, pausing for an instant to say goodbye to the old train. The lady looked at him in confusion, and Harry sighed, brushing the fringe of his hair to the side as he showed her his famous lightning bolt scar.
The lady gasped, a slow, broad smile curving her lips. “Harry Potter! I didn’t recognize you—you’re so pale—!”
“I have things to do,” Harry interrupted shortly. “If you’ll excuse me.” He grabbed the railing next to the door and jumped off, his legs jarring a bit at the distance between the train step and the ground. Did you miss me, Hogwarts? Harry wondered. I’m back.
All right, he wasn’t precisely home yet, and he did have to meet with that idiot Fudge before anything else, but Harry was harboring a hope that Fudge had somehow managed to grow a modicum of intelligence in the time he had been gone. Unfortunately, Harry mused, hope is irrational, and a Blast-Ended Skrewt has more common sense than Fudge. Harry shook his head and took a deep breath to steel himself before he Apparated to Hogsmeade. He appeared before the entrance to The Three Broomsticks, sparing the massacre site a single glance before he began to walk, debris crunching under his feet as he made his way back to Hogwarts.
~*~*~
It was with some trepidation that Harry found himself outside Minister Fudge’s office, waiting for his presence to be announced. Fudge was using a suite of rooms near the Great Hall as his office during his temporary stay, and Harry couldn’t help but wonder if this section of the wing moved around, and if it did, if it would be so kind as to lose Fudge and all of his retinue for a week or so.
A door swung open, and a girl about Harry’s age stepped out briskly. Is that Lisa Turpin? He wondered as she strode up to him. “The Minister will see you now, Mr. Potter.” Harry got up and followed her into the next room, straightening his shoulders defiantly as Fudge glared at him. Lisa left the room, and Fudge planted his hands on his desk.
“Let’s make one thing clear here, Potter,” Fudge intoned sternly. “I never wanted you back, but Black says he needs you.” Fudge scooted out from behind his desk and strode over to Harry, looking out the window and trying to appear imposing. Harry was kind enough not to tell him it wasn’t working. “Now he has you.” Fudge turned his head and glared at Harry. “I’m not happy with this arrangement, Potter, I hope you understand that.”
“I do, sir,” Harry stated politely.
Fudge smoothed down his robes and sighed. “Conference is in a half hour. You’re there for show. You sit down and you don’t speak a word. Do we understand each other? Good.” Fudge ushered Harry out of his office and shut the door with a resounding click.
“Well, that went about as I expected.” Harry muttered to himself, pushing his hand through his hair. “Lisa?” he called, and she swung around in mid-step.
“Yes?” Lisa asked, clearly impatient to continue her tasks.
“Where are my things?” Harry asked politely, looking about for his suitcases.
“The house elves have taken them,” Lisa declared curtly. “If you’ll excuse me—” She was gone before Harry could say another word, and Harry shrugged, making his way out of the Minister’s wing.
So, a half an hour. Happy days are here again, Harry thought wryly to himself as he made his way to the front stairs. He heard music playing on the lawn near the lake and made his way over to the small audience. There were no seats left, as it was an impromptu concert, so Harry leaned against a tree, closing his eyes and letting the notes wash over him in a comforting wave. He applauded politely with the rest of the audience as the musicians concluded their music, and chatted with a few of the people as they stacked chairs up for another day.
A fluttering piece of paper caught Harry’s attention, and he leaned down to find it was a makeshift program for the music that had been playing. Bach.
Incredulously, “Are you telling me you like Bach?”
“Oi! Harry!” Harry turned and found himself enveloped in strong arms, bright red hair tickling his nose. “Good to have you back!”
“Ron!” Harry couldn’t stop an answering grin from appearing as he pulled back and looked at his best friend. “I think you’ve grown while I was gone!”
Ron rolled his eyes, patting Harry on the back. “It’s only been a month, you wanker! Maybe you just shrank.” Harry shot a glare at Ron, and Ron grinned. Then he sighed, his expression turning sober as they began to walk. “We’ve all missed you, you know.”
“I missed all of you, too,” Harry answered honestly, offering Ron a smile. “So, tell me! How is—”
A tiny, warm smile, elegant fingers sliding over the wood of a wand, thawed, amused eyes. “You really are an idiot, aren’t you, Potter?”
“—everyone?”
“It’s been really stressful around here, but hey! Neville and Ginny got married last week! We would have sent you an invitation, but we didn’t know whether or not—”
“Oh, everyone has forgotten me. Woe!” Harry laughed and put the program he was still holding into his jacket pocket, hunching his shoulders. “You’ve been doing all right?”
Ron nodded, and then toed the ground, looking a little guilty. “Sirius sent me down here to tell you—”
“I know why I’m here, Ron,” Harry cut his friend short. “You’ve lost Ivy.”
Ron grimaced. “Yeah.”
“Okay, lead me to the conference room, and fill me in on the way,” Harry suggested, and Ron nodded.
“Okay, here’s what happened.” Ron began. “Scarborough intercept station started getting a weird signal. One word, every hour, out of Sainte-Assise. ‘Alkali.’”
Harry frowned. “Alkali?”
Ron nodded. “It’s a flow—”
Harry rolled his eyes. “For Merlin’s sake, Ron, I know it’s a flower! Aquilegia. Columbine. “ At Ron’s surprised look, he blushed. “I did pay attention in Herbology sometimes, you know. What I want to know is what it means.”
Ron swallowed heavily and put a hand on Harry’s shoulder, stopping him. “It means ‘change the rune code.’”
Harry took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose absently. Sometimes, he hated being right.
~*~*~*~*~
TBC…
To you two, I say thank you.
scheherezhad, I especially liked the Pimp Police. *beams*And now, since this was originally supposed to be released with the prologue:
~*~*~*~*~
Chapter 1
~*~*~*~*~
Three Months Later
June 1, 2003
Harry Potter lifted a pale hand and ran his fingers through his hair, staring morosely out the window of Hogwarts Express. If there was one thing he was beginning to hate, it was the Anti-Apparition wards that still lay on Hogwarts grounds. Although, if he were truly honest with himself, he felt nostalgic when he saw the hills and plains spanning the length of the tracks. He was going to see his friends again. What did they call me back for anyway? Harry wondered, and looked around the empty cabin as the train began to slow. The door slid open abruptly as the train finished its stop, and Harry started, his head jerking to the side. “Draco?”
“Argh!” Draco proclaimed eloquently, tossing himself in the train compartment with an irritated sigh. He plopped himself on the seat opposite of Harry and glared daggers at the piece of parchment in his hand. He rubbed the point of his quill against his bottom lip as he scowled. “What kind of stupid Muggle entertainment would focus on a singing orphan girl anyway?” Draco growled, vexed at the very idea he should know anything at all about Muggles. “She’s poor! She doesn’t have any reason to sing!”
Harry struggled against a surprised laugh and tilted his head to look at the other boy. “Annie.”
Draco jumped at the sound of Harry’s voice, and his eyes narrowed into suspicious slits. “What?”
“The ‘entertainment’ with the orphan. Annie.” Harry looked back out the window as Draco shot him a perplexed look and wrote ‘Annie’ on his sheet of parchment.
Draco surprised Harry with a delighted laugh, and Harry looked quizzically at his rival, who gave him a small smile. “I’m horrible at these things,” Draco confided, gesturing to the crossword puzzle.
Harry gave Draco an answering smile. “So am I.”
“You’ll have to walk from here,” a firm voice declared. It was the trolley lady, but the war had taken her smile along with her cart of wizarding sweets. “The battles damaged the tracks from here to the station.”
“I know,” Harry declared coolly. “I’ve been here before.” He retrieved his suitcases from the luggage rack above his head and stepped out of the room, pausing for an instant to say goodbye to the old train. The lady looked at him in confusion, and Harry sighed, brushing the fringe of his hair to the side as he showed her his famous lightning bolt scar.
The lady gasped, a slow, broad smile curving her lips. “Harry Potter! I didn’t recognize you—you’re so pale—!”
“I have things to do,” Harry interrupted shortly. “If you’ll excuse me.” He grabbed the railing next to the door and jumped off, his legs jarring a bit at the distance between the train step and the ground. Did you miss me, Hogwarts? Harry wondered. I’m back.
All right, he wasn’t precisely home yet, and he did have to meet with that idiot Fudge before anything else, but Harry was harboring a hope that Fudge had somehow managed to grow a modicum of intelligence in the time he had been gone. Unfortunately, Harry mused, hope is irrational, and a Blast-Ended Skrewt has more common sense than Fudge. Harry shook his head and took a deep breath to steel himself before he Apparated to Hogsmeade. He appeared before the entrance to The Three Broomsticks, sparing the massacre site a single glance before he began to walk, debris crunching under his feet as he made his way back to Hogwarts.
~*~*~
It was with some trepidation that Harry found himself outside Minister Fudge’s office, waiting for his presence to be announced. Fudge was using a suite of rooms near the Great Hall as his office during his temporary stay, and Harry couldn’t help but wonder if this section of the wing moved around, and if it did, if it would be so kind as to lose Fudge and all of his retinue for a week or so.
A door swung open, and a girl about Harry’s age stepped out briskly. Is that Lisa Turpin? He wondered as she strode up to him. “The Minister will see you now, Mr. Potter.” Harry got up and followed her into the next room, straightening his shoulders defiantly as Fudge glared at him. Lisa left the room, and Fudge planted his hands on his desk.
“Let’s make one thing clear here, Potter,” Fudge intoned sternly. “I never wanted you back, but Black says he needs you.” Fudge scooted out from behind his desk and strode over to Harry, looking out the window and trying to appear imposing. Harry was kind enough not to tell him it wasn’t working. “Now he has you.” Fudge turned his head and glared at Harry. “I’m not happy with this arrangement, Potter, I hope you understand that.”
“I do, sir,” Harry stated politely.
Fudge smoothed down his robes and sighed. “Conference is in a half hour. You’re there for show. You sit down and you don’t speak a word. Do we understand each other? Good.” Fudge ushered Harry out of his office and shut the door with a resounding click.
“Well, that went about as I expected.” Harry muttered to himself, pushing his hand through his hair. “Lisa?” he called, and she swung around in mid-step.
“Yes?” Lisa asked, clearly impatient to continue her tasks.
“Where are my things?” Harry asked politely, looking about for his suitcases.
“The house elves have taken them,” Lisa declared curtly. “If you’ll excuse me—” She was gone before Harry could say another word, and Harry shrugged, making his way out of the Minister’s wing.
So, a half an hour. Happy days are here again, Harry thought wryly to himself as he made his way to the front stairs. He heard music playing on the lawn near the lake and made his way over to the small audience. There were no seats left, as it was an impromptu concert, so Harry leaned against a tree, closing his eyes and letting the notes wash over him in a comforting wave. He applauded politely with the rest of the audience as the musicians concluded their music, and chatted with a few of the people as they stacked chairs up for another day.
A fluttering piece of paper caught Harry’s attention, and he leaned down to find it was a makeshift program for the music that had been playing. Bach.
Incredulously, “Are you telling me you like Bach?”
“Oi! Harry!” Harry turned and found himself enveloped in strong arms, bright red hair tickling his nose. “Good to have you back!”
“Ron!” Harry couldn’t stop an answering grin from appearing as he pulled back and looked at his best friend. “I think you’ve grown while I was gone!”
Ron rolled his eyes, patting Harry on the back. “It’s only been a month, you wanker! Maybe you just shrank.” Harry shot a glare at Ron, and Ron grinned. Then he sighed, his expression turning sober as they began to walk. “We’ve all missed you, you know.”
“I missed all of you, too,” Harry answered honestly, offering Ron a smile. “So, tell me! How is—”
A tiny, warm smile, elegant fingers sliding over the wood of a wand, thawed, amused eyes. “You really are an idiot, aren’t you, Potter?”
“—everyone?”
“It’s been really stressful around here, but hey! Neville and Ginny got married last week! We would have sent you an invitation, but we didn’t know whether or not—”
“Oh, everyone has forgotten me. Woe!” Harry laughed and put the program he was still holding into his jacket pocket, hunching his shoulders. “You’ve been doing all right?”
Ron nodded, and then toed the ground, looking a little guilty. “Sirius sent me down here to tell you—”
“I know why I’m here, Ron,” Harry cut his friend short. “You’ve lost Ivy.”
Ron grimaced. “Yeah.”
“Okay, lead me to the conference room, and fill me in on the way,” Harry suggested, and Ron nodded.
“Okay, here’s what happened.” Ron began. “Scarborough intercept station started getting a weird signal. One word, every hour, out of Sainte-Assise. ‘Alkali.’”
Harry frowned. “Alkali?”
Ron nodded. “It’s a flow—”
Harry rolled his eyes. “For Merlin’s sake, Ron, I know it’s a flower! Aquilegia. Columbine. “ At Ron’s surprised look, he blushed. “I did pay attention in Herbology sometimes, you know. What I want to know is what it means.”
Ron swallowed heavily and put a hand on Harry’s shoulder, stopping him. “It means ‘change the rune code.’”
Harry took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose absently. Sometimes, he hated being right.
~*~*~*~*~
TBC…
no subject
I love it, though. It's crafted so wonderfully - it just leaves me peering everywhere for clues and tapping my fingers for chapter two. Love it, love it, love it.
Re:
no subject
I especially love Ron in this part, though I'm not quite sure why.
And Harry. And the codes. And the suspense.
*adores*
no subject
At least you fully realize it now. ^_^
no subject
i am going to fanwhore you and stalk you until i get more.
oh, my name's kittie, by the way. *sticks out hand* how are you?
Re:
And hello. *shakes hand* I'm doing well. You?
no subject
Well...OK. I won't fanwhore you. But I'll stalk your LJ anyway, just to read more. It's a lovely beginning. Er...I think I already said that. Oh, well.
Re:
Okay. I'm in.
Don't worry about over-effects of pimpage -- I'll stay out of sight. I have no interest in making you feel more popular than you want to be. I just know better than to look the other way when Ishuca "pimps" instead of "recs."
--J
Re: Okay. I'm in.
But feel free to drop me a comment or anything if you have a question about it. Gah. Well, I hope I can keep up the standard I began with!
bwah-hahaha!
:still singing:
i'm not insane. at least, not in this case.
and don't worry. as long as you love this story like you obviously do i don't see any problem with standards.
:loves:
Re: bwah-hahaha!
no subject
*loves it to death* OH WHYYYYYYYYYY must bad things happen?
Re:
Just wait and see. ^_~