Words are flowing out like endless rain...

My Bloglist

2010-05-08T12:26:00.000-07:00

If you're cool, you'll check these out.

icanread.tumblr.com
beatlemania.tumblr.com
gleeks.tumblr.com
madisen-massacre.tumblr.com
4everundead.blogspot.com
sleeptalkinman.blogspot.com
monstercow.tumblr.com(My brother's tumblr)
irrelevantelephant.tumblr.com
theditterdiaries.blogspot.com(My best friend's blog. She doesn't have anything on it, but she would be mad if I didn't include hers.)
stepheniemeyer.com

Dinosaur Fruit Snacks

2010-05-07T21:12:00.001-07:00

I love them.

Omegle

2010-05-03T18:27:00.000-07:00

I was looking for my friend Hannah on Omegle(which is this site where you get paired with a random stranger to IM) and this one girl... Well, read the conversation. I'm 'You' and she's 'Stranger'.

You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!
You: Hannah is this you?
Stranger: OMG SARAH!!
You: OMG!
You: It worked!
Stranger: YESSSSSSS!!!
You: YUSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!
You: XD
Stranger: :P:P:P:D:D:D
You: I'm surprised it worked.
Stranger: omg thats sick!!! out of 6235 people we found each other
You: That is so weird...
You: Telepathy? XD
Stranger: i know
Stranger: :P
You: So what are you up to?
Stranger: not much it took forever to find you :P you?
You: I'm not doing much either... Watching Twilight with Michelle.
Stranger: sick! i want to have a marathon when eclipse and breaking dawn come out like watch them all
You: Yes!! I'm in
Stranger: YEA
You: I heard about this parody book about Twilight, it's called Nightlight
Stranger: hahaha on youtube!!?
You: No, it's a book. Michelle was telling me about it. She says it's really funny.
Stranger: ohhh lol:P
You: I'm gunna read it. XD
You: LOL I love in the Twilight movie when Charlie clicks his gun before Edward comes in
Stranger: i know
Stranger: who's michelle?
You: My cousin
Stranger: You don't have any cousins. You're not Sarah.
Sorry, your friend ended the conversation! ;-)
(It's true. I'm not Sarah.)

A chair is still a chair, even if nobody's sitting there

2010-05-02T21:59:00.000-07:00

I am not who I wish to be. I want to be her. I want to be that girl. The one with fire in her eye and a sparking wit on her word. The girl who can pull off red nails as classy as they can be, and even when they chip, she still looks great. The girl humming the Beatles under her breath while walking through the cool, wet grass, the sun kissing her soft hair. The girl who thinks her freckles are a thing of beauty and her eyes are the best mood ring ever. The girl who writes something every day because she has thoughts bouncing around in her head nonstop that require a meeting on paper. The girl who wears dresses like they are her religion and daydreams of words and songs… Sweet, tuneless songs that make you smile. The girl who finds poetry in sunshine, flickering lavender candles, and sweet melodies. The girl who finds joy in simple things, like a sunny day or finding quarters in your pocket. The girl who savors her solitude and relishes her friends. The girl who yearns for passion and art and creativity to flow through her veins like water. The girl who always has that knowing smile, that sparkle of kindness in her eye. The girl who sings along to even the corny songs on the radio because she is thankful for music of any sort. The girl who needs no makeup, whose cheeks have the perfect tint and eyes the perfect enhancement. The girl who is gentle with even the most harsh of beings. The girl who laughs easily and cries freely.

Life is such a rush.

Writer's Block

2010-04-30T17:22:00.000-07:00

Somebody please tell me what to write about.
By the way, new favorite name: Carlyn. Pronounced Car-Lin.

Writing

2010-04-30T16:26:00.000-07:00

Writing is a beautiful thing. I respect that. And I appriciate it. Yet in a way, I resent it. It's hard to love something so much when you know somebody out there will always say 'you can't' or 'that sucks'.
Writing is vital to my existence. If I refrain from writing for to long, I begin to go insane... Usually my symptoms include odd fetishes with musicals... Last time it was Mamma Mia.
That is why I have this blog. If I don't have anything about which to write, I ramble here. It helps replenish my sanity(but was I ever sane in the first place?).
Something about being an avid writer that is less-than-awesome is the fact that I overthink... Everything. Nothing can go thoughtless. I see a homeless person, and I can't just think, "Oh, that sucks for him." No, I have to think, "Oh, that's terrible! I wonder what happened. I bet he lost his job and then had to use the last of his money to pay off debts and then the bank took his house and now he lives in a box that's so sad!"
In short, I need to get my writing groove back on.
This will be a long night.

The Short Second Life Of Bree Tanner

2010-04-27T16:56:00.000-07:00

I know I'm turning back into a Twitard, but...

I'M SO EXITED!!!!!
Go to stepheniemeyer.com to read more!
Remember to add the site breetanner.com to your favorites in case you forget!!!!!
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!

Twilight Haters

2010-04-25T16:54:00.000-07:00

It's really nice when your friend stands up for you.
Changing names in this scenario, just in case.

(It's lunchtime. I'm reading Eclipse.)

Rachel: Ugh! Natalie! Why are you reading that?!(let it be said that Rachel has never read Twilight; Puck has)It's so retarded. *begins to punch me in the arm continuously)
Puck: Hey, shut up. You haven't even read it.
Rachel: But I hate it. It's really, really stupid.
Natalie(me): Hey, stop punching me! It's a good book. Like a guilty pleasure.
Finn: Yeah, like South Park.
Puck: Twilight is actually pretty good, Rachel.
Rachel: Whatever. I'm going to go hang out with Quinn.

(Later)
Natalie: Hey, thanks for backing me up earlier. I didn't know you like Twilight.
Puck: I don't. I don't like it at all. But hey, we get by with a little help from our friends.

(Not only did he quote The Beatles, but he stood up for me about something he hates. I will quote Glee when I say, "Thank God for Puck.")
(By the way, all those names are from Glee. I didn't want to use my friends' real names)

Irrelevant Elephant

2010-04-24T10:29:00.000-07:00

This blog is for random rambling. I made a new one for little -isms that amuse me.
irrelevantelephant.tumblr.com
Go. Now. It will rock your socks off. Off, I say!
Keep Gleeking.

Twilight Errors Part II

2010-04-21T15:10:00.000-07:00

"I didn't know how, but someday, Alice was going to pay for this."
This implies that Alice is no longer going to 'pay for this', which I don't think Stephenie Meyer intended. Just saying.

Nothing Gold Can Stay

2010-04-20T16:31:00.000-07:00

Here's an excellent poem I found in 'The Outsiders' called 'Nothing Gold Can Stay', by Robert Frost. This poem is amazing. I love it. I want to steal the copyright.

Nature's first green is gold
Her hardest hue to hold
Her early leaf’s a flower
But only so an hour
Then leaf subsides to leaf
So Eden sank to grief
So dawn goes down to day
Nothing gold can stay.

Usher's 'Confessions' & Bon Jovi's 'It's My Life'

2010-04-20T16:27:00.001-07:00

I hate both of those songs.
I cannot stand either of those singers.
But the Glee mash up is AMAZING.
This is why I love Glee.
They take terrible songs and make them great.
Glee!

Twilight Errors Part 1

2010-04-17T13:53:00.000-07:00

Today, whilst reading Eclispe, I discovered a grammatical error.

"Emmett froze. Suddenly Jasper was on his back, his teeth mere inches from his neck."

This implies that Jasper's teeth were mere inches away from Jasper's neck. Which makes zero grammatical sense. What Stephenie Meyer meant was:

"Emmett froze. Suddenly Jasper was on his back, Jasper's teeth mere inches from Emmett's neck."

However, that is not what I would have written. In case you haven't read Twilight, let it be said that Emmett is much larger than Jasper.

Here's what I would say:

"Emmett froze. Suddenly Jasper was on his back, the smaller vampire holding his teeth mere inches from the larger one's neck."

Grammatical error irks the blood out of me(pun intended).

You'll see that this post is labeled "Twilight Errors Part 1". That is because I am positive I will find more errors in the books.
Best, Natalie

Midnight Sun...

2010-04-07T21:08:00.000-07:00

...Doesn't suck. As much as I would love to loathe it, I can't. Stephenie Meyer, you have sucked me into your web of Twilight crap. And I can't get out.
I read the Twilight series and loved it, about a year and a half ago.
And Bella is possibly the most dimwitted character I have ever read about. She is just boring. Edward is much more interesting. He's a cool guy on the inside. And he's so much more intellectual. I don't mean to sound like a snob, but the coloquial Americanized English language is simply monotonous and redundant. To, like, speak like a normal, like, teen, it's, like, sooo dumb. And, it's like, she's like, like, like, like, y'know, like...
Edward, however, seems to speak in a manner which is refreshing for a word-minded alian(sorry, I'm having word trouble today) like myself. Anyway, the intellectual world as we know it is ephemeral, thusforth we need to mend it before it meets an ungodly demise. Unless we all want to sound like idiots who flunked English class. So, anyway, in conclusion:
Twilight: Bad.
Midnight Sun: Groovy.

Glee

2010-04-07T16:32:00.000-07:00

Adjective: Joy. Gleeful.

Just kidding, I'm talking about the television program. Glee. It's about a high school Glee Club. I love it. I've only seen a couple shows, because Netflix is on the slow side, but it's great.
One of the main characters is Rachel Barry, a sophomore who is absolutely obsessed with Glee Club. Rachel is just about the perfect image: Pretty, smart, great clothes, amazing singer, and so on. This is why I absolutely loathe Rachel Barry.
I guess Rachel's real problem is she has issues with giving her fellow Glee members a chance at the spot light. She wants every. Single. Female. Solo. It's really annoying. Not that Rachel isn't a good singer; she toatally is. And coming from me, that means something. I'm not trying to be a music snob, but I don't really like female singers. I don't know why. But I like a lot of different bands. The Beatles to Bob Marley to Flight Of The Conchords and Weird Al. But no females. I just don't like the way girl voices sound(Keep in mind that I am a girl...). One of my best friends is an amazing singer, and I really love her voice, but that's about the only one. (And Brelynn, if you're reading this, it's true; YOU ROCK!) But Rachel... She's a great singer. But she really annoys me.
Rachel tried to quit Glee when Tina(another member of the club) got a solo. She got really, really mad. It made me want to strangle her.
My favorite characters in Glee are Kurt, Arty, and Will. All of whom are male. But they each have awesome voices and all my favorite songs are sung by them(exept for 'Don't Stop Beleivin', which is Finn and Rachel). But Rachel is just....... UGH!!! That's what she is. Just UGH!!.
So, in conclusion, watch Glee... But don't feel bad for Rachel, because she's a jerk. Have a nice day.

Duh duh duh duh, duh duh duh

2010-04-02T22:06:00.000-07:00

You were supposed to read the title like the Indiana Jones theme.
After going on the excellent ride about everyone's favorite archeologist, I decided to read my brother's old Indy books. And since commencing two days ago, I haven't been able to put the thing down. Good thing he has like five more. All of which are by different authors, I might add.
Because of such, I, being an avid writer myself, decided I'd write one. I haven't written much, but let me tell you, it's great to have a character with a whole set of charactaristics, along with a setting and theme of your story already made up for you. It's like, deciding to make a really complicated cake and realizing the first step is already finished for you. It's awesome. Anyway, I haven't decided on a name yet, but I have a few pages and a rough plot line. It took some reasearch, but luckily, yours truly thoroughly enjoys reasearch. I knew I wanted it to be about the ancient Greeks, because I know a handfull of things about them already(Thank you, Percy Jackson books). So, the epic archeological mystery is at the Temple Of Hephaestus in Athens, Greece. I love history, how fun! After typing this I realize how dorky I am but hey, lemons are yellow and Coke is brown, let's start a riot.
So far, I have a sketchy character and a beginning of a mystery. Here's what I have so far. It's just the first chapter, however.

Chapter One

“Yes, Mr. Blofis,” The professor of archeology said lazily, addressing a tall, blond young man in the back row of his classroom.
Blofis put his hand down and asked his question. “Dr. Jones, is it possible for”
The professor didn’t hear the rest, due to a sudden and loud knock on the classroom door.
“Hold that thought, Blofis,” Dr. Jones said as he approached the door.
“Yes?”
The disrupter was a corpulent man wearing a navy blue suit and glasses which covered the better part of his face.
“Dr. Jones,” The large man greeted politely in a thick accent Dr. Jones had trouble placing, “I like to have word private with you.”
A few students snickered at the faulty English. But the professor suddenly recognized the man’s accent as Greek, a language which he could speak conversationally.
“Certainly.”
Dr. Jones stepped outside with the man and closed the door. His students immediately began to chat.
“Doctor. My name is Georgos Kaligaris.
“Indiana Jones.”
The professor held his hand out to shake. The Greek man took it timidly.
“I was under impression your name was Henry Jones, Jr.”
Indiana Jones made a face. He stopped using that name when he was nine years old, and the family dog saved him from an oncoming automobile. He’d felt guilty ever since, because the dog died in the accident instead of him. Thus, Henry Jones, Jr., adopted the name Indiana, much to his father‘s(Henry Sr.) dismay. Of course, Mr. Jones, Sr., still referred to his son as ‘Junior’.
“Pardon me, Mr. Kaligaris, but that name hasn’t applied in twenty five years. I go by Indiana.”
“If insist. Dr. Jones-”
“Call my Indy,” Dr. Jones insisted.
“Er- Indy, my point of order is archeological,” Mr. Kaligaris began. Indy’s brain took the word ‘archeological’ as a wake up call. He’d always been a man of experiencing and seeing history, yet he hadn’t done anything of the sort for almost three years. As he told his students, ‘If you want to be a great archeologist, you have to get out of the library!” The mantra worked for Indy, at least.
“Yes, Mr. Kaligaris?” He prodded hopefully.
“We require your vast knowledge and experience in such a field. An archeological error was made by a previous ‘professor’ and such an error needs to be put straight by an actual professor, and I have heard great things about you, simply exemplarily.”
Indy furrowed his brow for two reasons. The first was at the contents of that statement, and the latter was because Mr. Kaligaris had suddenly adopted an American accent.
“Mr. Kaligaris, I must say, with all due respect, that you seemed to be having trouble before. And yet now you speak in a manner which is clearly American. Might I request an explanation about such matter?” He asked politely, raising an eyebrow in Mr. Kaligaris’s direction.
“I assure you, doctor, that I have not change the manner with which I speak,” Mr. Kaligaris said hastily, laying the Greek accent which was obviously fake on thick.
“Forgive me,” Indy said suspiciously.
“Of course.”
Indy cleared his throat. “Your point of order?”
“Ah, yes. I assume you are familiar with the Temple Of Hephaestus in Athens, Greece?”
“Yes. What is the significance of such a temple? It’s defunct.” Indy replied cautiously. He noticed Kaligaris’s accent had slipped back to American. He wondered why the man was pretending to be Greek.
“You are a very intelligent man, Dr. Jones. Er, Indy. Tell me what you know about the Temple Of Hephaestus.”
Indy frowned, searching his brain. “I do not know very much, I am afraid, Mr. Kaligaris. I know only that it is one of the best preserved ancient temples in Greece. And that it was named after the god of the flame and forge, obviously, Hephaestus.”
“And you are right, professor. But there is something about it you do not know,” Kaligaris said, tempting the archeologist to inquire further.
“Enlighten me, if you please,” Indy said, still confused as to why Kaligaris chose to fake a Greek accent.
“A man was murdered there. Six years ago.”
Indy quickly did the math in his head. “In 1927?” He checked. He always made a point of validating his acquaintances’ math, because once, due to faulty math, he was almost killed.
“Yes. Six year ago. 1927. Of course.” Kaligaris injected extra Greek accent into his statement.
“What concerns should I have about this?” Indy asked, realizing he’d been absent from class for more than a few minutes. “I really should get back to class. Perhaps the two of us can meet after school and discuss such matters?”
Kaligaris nodded. “Of course. I will return at three o’clock.”

And with that, Indy bid the mysterious man goodbye and returned to class.
“Now, what was that, Blofis?”

Yet Another Feeble Attempt To Save The World Through Poetry

2010-04-02T16:19:00.000-07:00

Every single living day
Nature continues to fade away
We must change this, otherwise
The earth might meet an ungodly demise
So please, recycle and stop this pollution
We each must find our own solution
This planet needs to be saved
No more roads need to be paved
So let’s not build that new mall
Lest Mother Nature make a call
It doesn’t need to be instantaneous
One step a day will help save us
For example, throw your old math test in the recycling bin
Pick up trash at the park to help the earth win
This battle between it
And stupid humans who throw trash in the volleyball pit.

A Revised Poem For My Story

2010-03-25T17:41:00.000-07:00

Here's a revised version of the poem in the post below. I don't know which one I like more. Votes, people!
******************************

A smile that lights up the universe
Oh, the way it does glow
Like a garden full of roses
Perfect through every row
Eyes like the ocean waves
Oh, the deepest blue
The way in which they sparkle
Is reminiscent of the morning dew
I only wish those eyes could see
Exactly how special she is to me
The only other thing I wish for
Is for her to notice me a little more.

This Is For One Of My Stories

2010-03-24T06:32:00.001-07:00

(This has nothing to do with me, it's for a story.)

A smile that lights up the universe
Oh, the way it does glow
Like a garden full of roses
Perfect through every row
Eyes like the ocean waves
Oh, the deepest blue
The way they sparkle
Is reminiscent of morning dew
I only wish those eyes could see
Exactly how special she can be
The only other thing I want
Is for her to notice me.

Another Feeble Attempt To Save The World Through Poetry

2010-03-23T17:08:00.000-07:00

Somebody died today
She was a pothead feeling dismay
So of course she rolled a joint
People tell her no, but she doesn't seem to get the point
To say the most
She overdosed
And now her corpse rots
Of people like this, there are lots
Daft teens who can't take reality
Who choose to light up and and inhale their enemy
I can't say I understand
You could call this addiction a demand
They seem to live only for their drug
And later we find them dead on the rug
It really is a shame
That people choose to act so lame
If the news of their addiction gets out
They don't even so much as pout
They act like it is but a rumor
They take accusations with naught but humor
And that is where the real problem lies
When you can see the dilated pupils in their eyes
And you know thay just got high
They are convinced that they can fly
They jump off of buildings, just to try
Then ungodly punishment
Occurs when they fall on the cement
The paremedics were alerted
But it could not be diverted
The pothead was no more
Just because she found life a bore
She chose to get stoned instead
But it was only in her head
Nothing she thought was real
Because the truth She didn't want to feel
So with her habits she will continue
But someday, oh she will rue
The habits she got into
And then she does stupid things
Like maybe this teenager who from a building fell
Unbeknownst to her, she then sold her soul to hell
I hope this poem helps someone
To realize their life is not yet done
And then maybe they will see
Just how stupid drugs can be
They will make you feel cool
But the euphoria will overrule
You desicions will no longer be your own
But still, over drugs some choose to condone
If only we could rid the world of drugs for good
We'd be one step closer to making the world be like it should
And yet some people still get high
Oh, how I wish we could tell drugs goodbye.

Best Party Ideas Ever

2010-03-20T12:12:00.000-07:00

If you want to have a party, like for Valentine's Day or your birthday, and want a theme, here are a few ideas. I haven't tried all of them, but they sound pretty fun.

1. Ugly Sweater Party
FINALLY a use for that sweater you've had forever but never worn because it is so terrible.

2. Movie Party
I went to one the other night, and it was excellent. We watched two films, 'Napolean Dynamite' and 'A Few Good Men'. Next month we're watching '2001 A Space Odyssy' and 'Wayne's World'.

3. Black & White Party
Everyone wears black and white clothes. You watch an old black and white film(I suggest 'A Hard Day's Night'. You eat black and white foods, like white cake, black coffee, and popcorn with colorless butter(the microwave kind doesn't work; it's yellow).

4. Stereotype Party
Everyone dresses up like a stereotype(hippy, goth, prep, emo, ect.) and you do stereotypical things, like eat Doritoes(somehow, they're the stereotypical party food) and play Charades.

5. Lit Party
Everyone brings a book and you have a book swap. Then, you play a round of Exquisite Corpse and reccommend books to friends.

6. Tea Party
Dress properly. Serve tea, finger sandwitches, and petit fours. Discuss 'topics of general interest' and be boring.

Trying My Hand At Satire

2010-03-20T11:27:00.000-07:00

Top Ten Things Old People Need To Realize

1. If I have heaphones on, I can't hear you.
2. It freaks teen girls out when you come randomly talk to us like we know eachother.
3. It's called 'online', not 'on the line'.
4. It's called an iPod, not an iPlayer.
5. Computers can't read your mind. You have to tell them what you want.
6. We don't want your old ugly '50s shoes, Grandma. Especially the not ones with cube heels.
7. We're not wearing to much eyeliner.
8. We don't want the third book in a series if we haven't read the first two.
9. Putting ketchup on scrambled eggs(or eggs of any kind really) is weird.
10. It makes us uncomfortable if you compliment us when we don't know you.

The Painful Sting Of Reality

2010-03-19T23:27:00.000-07:00

We see it in the news
The violence which some of us ooze
It really makes me sad
To see that people can be so bad
A teenage girl, murdered in cold blood
An dead body, discarded in the mud
Random acts of terror
None of them any fairer
To me it doesn't make any sense
Why we have to be so dense
If only we could get along
Then I wouldn't have to sing this song
Why can we not live as one
After all, when everything is said and done
We are all the same
So why must we maim?
Murders are teeming
And yet it is seeming
That from our mistakes we do not learn
All we care about is the money we earn
We do not think for others' sake
For money we'd drown a human in a lake
And even when we go to jail
We still experience the fail.
So now I say to you
Let's be friends, or the world we will rue.
Peace, my friend.
Let us make this violence come to an end.

Contradicting Myself

2010-03-18T18:10:00.000-07:00

My mind is full
The heaviness of takes its toll
And yet my thoughts are blank.
To be frank,
It is always like this.
And my thoughts are always this amiss.
When I attempt to straighten them out,
I get so aggravated I want to pout.
I want to think clearly, I do,
But how I will, I have no clue.
Focus I cannot
My brain feels like it's about to rot.
I feel like a cleansed brain is overdue
And yet a cleansed brain is what I rue.

For you, my friend. Thank you for putting it to an end.

2010-03-17T17:35:00.000-07:00

If this is true,
Then I must say that I'm incredibly proud of you.
For it takes a lot of guts
To discommence what made you feel
The opposite of what is real.
This poison on which you used to rely
Well, the best thing to do is to tell it goodbye.
I'm immensely glad you did,
After all, you're still a kid.
So now I have one thing left to say:
Thank you for not throwing your life away.

To Whom It May Concern

2010-03-17T17:15:00.000-07:00

Like you yourself so wisely said,
Every good thing must end up dead.
But I say later rather then now.
So please tell me how
You are able to poison yourself so.
I think you should know
People do care about you.
However odd that may sound, it is true.
This poison may make you feel cool,
But the euphoria will overrule.
The choices will stop being your own.
Over this poison you may condone
But I hope you see the reality.
This poison is not your friend. It is in fact your enemy.

For A Certain Person Who Needs This

2010-03-17T16:19:00.000-07:00

I know you well
But I must admit
I was surprised to hear what you so unceramoniously spit.
Because of a single word text,
I knew what would come next.
I asked you a question, anticipating deny
And now I comfort myself only in that you did not lie.
You told me the truth,
However uncouth,
And now I worry.
At the time I did not express fury
For I did not feel it
But I was dissapopinted at the truth you were so willing to admit.
Even at first I knew it was possible that I was right
Yet I did not want to face the light
I refused at first
But I knew it was true, which made my heart burst.
You are my best friend
And I do not want your life to end.
Would you like it if
A year from now, you jumped off a cliff
Because you thought you could fly?
I know I would not want to say goodbye
Just because you decided you wanted to get high.
So contemplate this:
Is your life really terrible enough to miss?

Albus Fic, Chapter Two

2010-03-14T16:31:00.000-07:00

I decided the old name was dumb and, for lack of better idea, it has recently been dubbed 'Albus Fic'. Think of a better name? Tell me. R&R!

*********

“Malfoy, Scorpios,” The extremely short deputy headmaster squeaked.
I smiled encouragingly at my new friend as he walked toward Professor Flitwick. Flitwick then placed the Sorting Hat on Scorpios and, after a few moments, it Sorted him- “Gryffindor!”
Rose and I clapped along with the rest of the students and Flitwick proceeded his called the next name…
“Potter, Albus!”
Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
Rose squeezed my wrist and smiled reassuringly. I returned her smile and timidly set off towards the stool on which I was to sit.
Flitwick, who was standing on a stool, plopped the hat on my head as if it didn’t matter as to which house I was sorted. As if it wasn’t a huge deal.
I took a huge breath as the hat started whispering to me.
“Potter, eh? Your father is a great man. Yes, I can detect the timid bravery in you as well. Quite a lot like your father, quite a lot like him indeed. Well, I guess there’s but one choice here…GRYFFINDOR!”
Yes! I felt my mouth widening in joy as Flitwick took the patched and withered hat off my head. I ran to the Gryffindor table to join Scorpios.
“Tomkins, Matthew!” was sorted into Ravenclaw, “Vladimir, Jared!” to Gryffindor, and “Vantel, Scarlet!” to Hufflepuff. Then, the last name,
“Weasley, Rosalynne!”
After a nail-biting moment, my cousin was sorted to Gryffindor as well.
She came over to join me and Scorpios, a huge smile on her face.
“Good job, Rosie!”
She widened her already huge smile and took a drink of pumpkin juice. Despite the fact that she had very loving parents, we both knew my uncle would be disappointed if she didn’t make Gryffindor. My dad would be proud of me regardless, and Uncle Ron would be proud of her too, but significantly less so if she was sorted to Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw. And I think he might disown her if she made Slytherin.
The headmistress, Professor McGonagall, welcomed us to Hogwarts and we started eating the best, best food I’ve ever had. Even better then my mum’s fried chicken, which I didn’t think possible.
Steak and Kidney pie, treacle tart, mashed potatoes, baked chicken, everything. Just imagine every kind of good food on Earth. It’s there.
“I’m so glad I didn’t get Slytherin,” Scorpios said through a mouthful of potatoes.
“Oh Merlin, me too,” Rose said, wiping her mouth. “I don’t know what my dad would do, he hates Slytherin.”
“Well, the opposite is true for my father,” Scorpios said as he piled more chicken on his plate. “Reckons it’s the best house, but hates a lot that’s come out of it. Understandably.” He eyed my forehead, as if looking for the scar my dad has. Luckily, both my parents are alive, so I don’t have a lightning-bolt scar. It’s one of the few things that makes me look different from him.
Professor McGonagall stepped up to the podium again and cleared her throat.
“Your head of house will administer schedules tonight. At my word, follow your prefects to your houses and get a good night’s sleep for your first day of lessons. Now good night.” She smiled and signaled for the prefects to lead us to our houses.
“First years! This way!” Called a tall, Asian boy with dark eyes.
He lead us to a portrait of a fat lady in pink robes surrounded by grapevines.
“Veriteserum,” The prefect said. The portrait swung away to reveal a hole big enough to walk through.
We pushed through it and into the commons.
“Right, I’m Michael Chang. I’m one of the fifth year prefects. Girls, your dormitories are just up those stairs and the second room on the right. Boys, up the opposite stairs and in the third door. Any questions?”
A girl raised her hand. “Who’s our Head of House?”
“Professor Longbottom. He teaches Herbology. Slytherin is Campbell, who teaches Potions. Hufflepuff’s Merrythought, who teaches Transfiguration. And Ravenclaw is Flitwick, Charms, also the deputy headmaster. Any more questions?”
Nobody said anything.
“Okay. ‘Night.”
We went to our dorms.
Scorpios and me chose beds next to each other. Soon, the other two Gryffindor boys, Jared Vladimir and Malcolm McClaggen, came to and introduced themselves. I guess we were all pretty tired, because all three of them(Scorpios, Jared and Malcolm), fell asleep straight away. I got out a self-inking quill from my uncle George’s joke shop and penned a letter to my mum and dad.
“Mum, Dad and Lily:
Rose and I both made Gryffindor. The other guys in my dorm are nice. I met a Gryffindor first year named Scorpios Malfoy, and we hit it off right away. He’s cool. The Gryffindor prefect’s name, Chang, seems familiar to me. But I can’t place it. Do you have any idea whom it might be?
Dad, you should’ve heard the Sorting Hat talk about you. ‘Great man, your father. I can sense his bravery passed along to you.’
Love, Al”

I set it on my night table to post tomorrow. After all, I was really tired.

Chapter Nine

2010-03-13T18:09:00.000-08:00

I heard a noise outside. Being the paranoid witch I am, I ran for the front hallway. Probably just innocent passerby, but in this state of matters, you can never be to careful.
It was around seven at night. I'd arrived at Grimmauld Place, ex-headquarters of the Order, only the day before. All day, I'd been searching London for my twin whom I'd worried so much about over the past seven months or so.
Of course, the reason I bolted to the hallway was deatheaters, but I had a slight inkling in the back of my mind that it just might be Madisen, however unlikly that may seem.
Just as I slammed into the wall, thus knocking me down, the door opened and a figure stepped cautiosly inside. I picked myself up silently. It was dusk, and the lights were still off, so I didn't see whom it happened to be until she turned around and I saw my face.
Literally, I saw my face looking back at me.
Except instead of my honey-colored hair, the face was framed by hot pink hair.
Madisen.
Kreacher, the Black's old house elf who hates me, shut the door and ran to the kitchen.
"Gracious! What on earth has happened to you?!" I cried as I took her bags and put them on the floor.
She didn't answer. I could tell she was happy to see me, though. We sat down on the old, icky couch.
Kreacher came to the room and set a tray of tea and snacks on the table in front of us.
Madisen just rolled her eyes.
"Well, honestly, you of all people should be used to my shabbier side, my dear. Do you recall the night, I believe, mid summer, when we were about 13?"
I smiled in remenissance.
"Ahh, I recall all too well. I was awoken at 3am because you were climbing through the window, covered in thorns. You had a bloody nose, black eye, and several scratches, all of which were bleeding. I do believe that was the only fight anyone even came close to being a match for you."
As kids, Madisen was always rather impulsive, whilst I was ever the cautious one. I was used to tending to her cuts, scrapes and bruises.
I laugh at the memory.
Madisen's smile turned into a look of worry. "What's wrong?" I asked her.
"I have seen multiple posters of Draco. The deatheaters are looking tirelessly for him. I hate to even consider what might happen if they find him before he finds me."
"Do you think he went to, well, You know who?" I asked before my better judgments could stop me.
Unable to speak, she shook her head at me.
I couldn't think of anything to say in response, so I just took a sip of tea. It was scalding hot, but I didn't notice.
I was so worried for her. My twin sister, my best friend, this distraught. I was sad too. I couldn't beleive all the hardships she'd encountered. We had grown up fairly sheltered, despite the fact that my father was a deatheater. He never let that interfere with his four childeren. Besides, for the majority of our childhood, the Dark Lord had been dormant. He didn't stick around when full moon came. Still, our lives were sheltered. My father loved us to much. It's unfortunate that the two of us can no longer stand to be within twenty feet of one another. But I suppose everybody argues with their parents.
My sister looked down at her stomache and I could sense her resenting the child.

**************

When I awoke the next morning, I had a terrible feeling in my gut. Like something was definately wrong.
I ran through the hall to check on my sister. She was sleeping soundly in her room, snoring lightly as she always had.
Sighing in releif, I ran down stairs, still in my pajamas, and outside.
It was early, not very many people were about Grimmauld Place.
I walked around for a while before seeing, out of the corner of my eye, a very pale young man in black clothing and a dirty looking man Disapparate. The pale man in black dropped something, just as he vanished. Fearing the worst, I ran to the scene and found the object which the man had dropped: a black backpack.
I picked it up and checked the contents.
A name was embroidered in white thread on the inside.
Draco Malfoy.
Oh Merlin.
I threw the pack on my shoulder and ran back to the house. Up the stairs. I head the sound of retching and the toilet flushing. That didn't worry me. She opened the bathroom door, probably hearing my footsteps, and emerged.
"I... I j-just s-saw them... they... they took Draug.... Draco...!"
I managed.
Madisen's expression was vacant.
I showed her the contents of the backpack. Some clothes. A comb. A canteen of something. A small pack of food.
Wordlessly, she took a shirt from my hands and held it to her face. A single tear trickled down her cheek.
Despite the fact that I had never liked Draco, my heart went out to him. For there was another thing in the backpack: a note.
Madisen took a washcloth from the counter and used it to wipe her tears.
I know Madisen better than I know myself so, when she sank to the floor sobbing, I didn't comfort her. Comforting her would only greaten her depression.
"I'll make some food. Come down when you're ready."
I closed the door and went downstairs to the kitchen, and sat down at the table.
I unfolded the note and read it.
'Minä rakastan sinua.'
I knew it was meant for my sister, but if I gave it to her then she would only be saddened more. I'd give it to her later, when reading those three words would make her happy.
I read the note again.
'Minä rakastan sinua.'
Finnish for 'I love you.'

************

The Many Confusions Of One Cluless Albus Severus Potter: Chapter I

2010-03-11T21:41:00.000-08:00

This is a new fic series I'm starting, rated PG, about Albus Potter, Harry's son. So obviously this is third gen. Here's chapter one. Chapter two probably up this weekend. The fic takes place right after Deathly Hallows ends, when Harry and Ginny are bidding James and Albus goodbye. Enjoy!
***************************************************************************
I bid my parents and sister goodbye and board the gleaming Hogwarts express. Luckily, I find an empty compartment right by my family, on the platform. I lean out the window and bid them goodbye again. Mum kisses my cheek and tells me I’ll do well… But I’m not so sure.
I feel the nerves fly around my stomach like butterflies. It’s possible that I might puke. I attempt to flatten my messy black hair, much to my father’s amusement.
“It’s a lost cause, kiddo.”
“I know,” I smile, attempting to lean out the window further. Actually, I might fall if I lean any further.
The train begins to move.
“Have fun at Hogwarts, Al!” Dad calls as the train pulls away. I rummage around in my bag for the hardbound book I’d worshipped from the day I learned to read. Hogwarts: A Revised History. It came out the year I was born, because apparently the original one was to outdated and more events needed to be added. I open the worn cover and begin reading the comforting, familiar words. One of the few ways I differ from my father is my bookishness. I could sit and read for hours. But Dad barely reads a thing.
But I’m not so lucky. After less then a minute of leaving the King’s Cross, the door of my compartment slides open.
“Hey, Al, I was looking for you,” My cousin and best friend Rose says, coming in.
“Oh, hey, Rosie,” I greet her, comforted by the familiar face in the pool of strangers.
“Reading that book again?” She says, bemused, upon noticing the book clutched in my hands.
“I find comfort in routine.”
Rose rolls her eyes and takes a seat across from me.
Just then, the compartment door opens again. A tall blonde haired boy enters, looking worried.
“I’m sorry, but every other compartment is full… D’you mind if I join you?” He asks, as if fearing rejection.
“Not at all, sit down,” I say warmly, gesturing at the seat beside me.
“Thanks. I really appreciate it. I’m Scorpios, by the way,” He says, holding his hand out to shake. “Scorpios Malfoy.”
“Albus Potter.”
“And I’m his cousin, Rosalynne Weasley. Call me Rose.”
“Pleasure.” Scorpios smiles, looking significantly less frazzled.
“What House do you hope to be in?” I ask.
“Gryffindor. My mum and dad were both in Slytherin, but I think Gryffindor sounds like a better House.”
“I want to be a Gryffindor too. My parents were both in it,” Rose says.
“Me to. My dad was going to be in Slytherin, but then the Sorting Hat changed its mind and put him in Gryffindor.”
“You said your name was ‘Potter’, right?” Scorpios asks suddenly.
“Yeah, I’m Harry Potter’s son,” I confirm, anticipating his next question.
“Blimey. Great wizard, your dad.”
“Yeah.”
Scorpios looks thoughtful for a moment. “And your first name is Albus? Sounds familiar.”
I nod. “I’m named after Albus Dumbledore, ex-headmaster of Hogwarts and founder of the Order Of The Phoenix.”
Rose cuts in. “And his middle name is Severus, after Severus Snape. I suppose you’ve heard of him as well?”
“I have. My father practically worships him. Says Snape was the bravest man he ever knew.”
“That’s what Dad says.” I lower my voice in an imitation of my father. “Albus Severus, you were named after two headmasters of Hogwarts. One of them was a Slytherin and he was the bravest man I ever knew.”
We all bust up laughing. I’m just pleased to have made a friend so fast.
“Do you have any siblings, Scorpios?” Rose asks.
“Nope. I wish. You?”
“I have a little brother named Hugo.”
“Little sister named Lily and an older brother named James. A right git, he is.”
The three of us crack up laughing again. Scorpios seems like a nice bloke.
“Who are your parents?” I ask, realizing ‘Malfoy’ sounds vaguely familiar.
“Draco and Pansy Malfoy.”
“Draco Malfoy? That’s ironic.”
“Why?”
I let ever talkative Rose answer. “Because your dad and my uncle hated each other in school for some reason. My dad and yours didn‘t get along well either. Nor my mum.”
“Yeah, I dunno why,” I amend quickly.
“Really? Dad always talks as if he and your dad were friends. Thinks your dad is brave.” Scorpios pauses, eyeing Rose’s long ginger hair. “Who are your parents?”
“Ron and Hermione Weasley. I have my dad’s hair,” She adds after noticing his eyes on her hair.
“Right. So- er- your mum and Albus’s mum are sisters?” Scorpios hazards.
“My mum and her dad,” I correct. “My mum’s Ginny Potter.”
“Right. So she used to be Ginny Weasley?”
“Yeah.”
“She’s the writer of the Profit article on Quidditch? I mean, her name sounds familiar.”
I confirm. “Her pen name is Ginny Weasley-Potter.”
“I see. Is that Hogwarts, A Revised History?”
“Yeah. I’ve read it a hundred times.”
“My parents won’t let me read it. I’ve wanted to forever. Dad reckons I don’t need that much fear at age eleven.” He laughs nervously.
“Really? Have a look, then,” I say, tossing him my beloved book.
“Thanks!” He opens it begins flicking through the pages.
“Al, you should change into your robes,” Rose says to me, straightening her school sweater and glancing at her watch.
“Right. I’ll do that.” I rummage through my trunk and pull out my robes and sweater and tie.
I’ve been waiting to wear these clothes ever since I was about three, but now, as I pull them on, it kind of feels unnatural. Suddenly, I get this horrible mental image of me as a squib.
I shudder.
“Something wrong, Al?” Rose asks, noticing my shudder.
“N-nothing,” I say, arranging my face into a smile.
“You’re nervous.” Rosie smiles and giggles at the thought.
“Aren’t you?”
“A little.” Lies. Rose is never, ever nervous. It’s one of those weird Rose things.
“Blimey! Your dad defeated Voldemort!” Scorpios suddenly yells.
“Shh,” I say. “I want people to judge me for me, not my dad.”
“Right. But wow! I knew your dad helped, but to actually defeat Voldemort… Wow. The way my father speaks of the Dark lord…” Scorpios shakes his head. “It’s just really, really cool.”
“Yeah. I guess.”
“Cauldron Cake, my dears?” A old and friendly looking witch asks, pushing a trolley of food into the compartment.
“Sure,” I hand her some Sickles and buy three cakes.
“Thanks,” My friends say as I pass them some.
We eat in silence, and I imagine they’re thinking about Hogwarts, imagining how it looks, as I am. Mum, Dad and James all say it’s this really epic castle with this vast forest around it…
“Hey! Look!”
Rose’s voice pulls me out of my daydreaming. I look out the window and see a huge castle in the distance.
“Whoa.” The incredulity in my voice surprises me.
“It’s huge.”
“…Yeah,” Rose breathes, staring intently at it.
“Hogwarts!” Announces Scorpios excitedly.

Wayne's World And Percy Jackson

2010-03-11T21:05:00.000-08:00

I have a new favorite film: Wayne's World. It's about these two guys, Wayne and Garth, whom have an excellent cable access show called Wayne's World. The film is basically about their show getting picked up by a read channel and what happens to them when they're all famous. BEST MOVIE EVER. The ironic thing is, it was origionally an SNL scetch. Excellent. This is the best, most hilarious film I have ever seen. Which is weird, because it has nothing to do with Harry Potter. XD

Percy Jackson is awesome as well. If you haven't already, read the bloody thing. It is the best book series(other than all my other favorites of course) ever written.

Await a fic soon.

So, watch Wayne's World, and read Percy Jackson, and we'll get along just fine. Fail to do so and I hate you.

Party on.

Hero

2010-02-24T20:14:00.000-08:00

(This is an exerpt from my current story, Hero. It's fantasy.)

Chapter One

“Do you ever find yourself speaking in tongues?” The curt voice asks me.
“What? No,” Is my flummoxed response. The asker makes note of it on his paper.
“Do you ever have dreams that come true the next day or so?”
“Yeah, sometimes.”
“Do things ever happen when you become angry?”
I nod, still confused. “Sometimes the sink randomly turns on or it starts raining.”
“Do you have a knack for growing plants?”
“I dunno. I don’t really garden.”

The interrogation goes on. The curt, black haired man interviewing me avoids all my questions.

That is, until I ask him who he is. “Kurt Dalton, I teach mind control at Anthumys.”
I have to turn my laugh into a cough. That’s really ironic.
Kurt Dalton seems to notice. “Something amusing you, Mr. Schuster?”
“No… How do you know my name?”
He waves his hand impatiently. “That is neither here nor there, Luke.”
I silently wonder how he knew to call me ‘Luke’. My real name is Percival Marvolo Lucas Schuster VII. But that’s a really stupid name, so I go by Luke. Anyway, my father went by Percival(well, actually Percy) when he was alive. So it would be kind of confusing if I went by it as well.

Kurt recommences his interview thing, until his words change to the beeping of my alarm clock.

Chapter Two

I bolt out of bed and press snooze. I’d just had a really, really vivid dream… But that’s not exactly what got my attention. Every time I have a dream like that, it comes true within the next week. Freaky, I know, but I’ve pretty much come to terms with it.
Except this. Why would I be spontaneously interviewed by a guy named Kurt? You tell me.
Anyway. It’s irrelevant. I discard the thought as I shower and dress for school.
But when I get into the kitchen, dragging my overly heavy backpack, I realize it might not be that easy.
For one thing, Mom’s here. For another thing, there’s a stack of chocolate chip pancakes on the table.
Mom usually leaves for work before I get up. She co-hosts a live T.V. show each weekday morning, which airs around eight, but they have to run through their lines and stuff, so she has to be there by seven.
“Morning, Luke,” She says brightly. “I made pancakes. Happy birthday!”
“Oh yeah. I forgot about that. I guess it is my birthday.” I smile sheepishly and sit down for pancakes. How could I forget? I’m thirteen now.
I’m on my third one when I notice the time.
“Crap, I’m gonna be late!” I stand up and throw my backpack over my shoulder, grabbing my sweatshirt.
“Luke, wait, you have an appointment, remember?”
“No…?”
“Oh. Well, it’s been on the calendar for a month. I thought you knew. Dentist. C’mon.” Mom pulls her coat on and takes her purse off its hook. We leave our house and get into the car.
“How’d you get Jud to let you off work?” I muse, buckling my seatbelt. Jud, her super-strict boss, made her do the show the day after Grandma died. So it’s kind of weird that he’s showing reruns because I have a dentist appointment.
“He’s been in a better mood of late. I think it’s that storm.” She laughs. We always joke that bad weather makes Jud happy, because he always seems to be mad at someone. Stupid ongoing joke, I know, but for some reason we laugh every time.
Suddenly getting an idea(due to my dream), I stare really hard at the water bottle in the cup holder. Burst, burst, burst, burst, I mentally yell.
Nothing happens.
Of course nothing happened. What would happen?
Nothing. That’s what would happen.
Okay, I need to stop all this trying to burst water bottles. I’m going mental.
The car pulls up at the duplex which houses the local dentist’s office. I make to open my passenger-seat door, but Mom grabs my wrist.
“Luke, I lied to you. Sit down.”
I do as she says.
“I didn’t take you here to get your teeth cleaned. Do you know what is in the other side of this duplex?”
“Um, it’s vacated, Mom,” I remind her.
“I’m afraid it isn’t. They call the place… An ‘Interrogation Center’. I can’t go in with you. But you’re going to enter and sit down in the waiting room. When they call your name, you’re going to go to the first room on the left in the hallway and sit down. You will be accompanied by a man named Kurt Dalton. He will thus ask you a few questions. Answer truthfully; he will know if you lie. And Luke,” Mom pauses and squeezes my shoulder reassuringly. “Don’t get scared. It’s okay. Nothing in there will hurt you in any way.”
“Mom, I’m not a kid anymore. I’m thirteen.” I remind her, opening the car door again, however perplexed.
“I know, I know. Call me when you’re done. You have your phone?”
I pat my right pocket. Sure enough, my cell phone’s in there.
“Yup.”
“Okay then, good luck. See you in about an hour.”
I get out of the car and Mom drives away.
Thinking I’m probably still dreaming, I enter the other side of the duplex.
I find myself…
In the dentist’s waiting room.
I look around for some concealed door or something. Nothing. Just a set of chairs and couches, with stupid toys for little snot-nosed five-year-olds to play with. I sit down hesitantly.
As I scan the room, a certain person catches my eye.
A girl. Long red hair and gray eyes. About my age. Drawing something on a sketchpad.
For some odd reason, I can’t look away.
Her eyes leave the paper and meet mine, briefly, before we both look away. But she only looks away to close her sketchpad and get up to sit by me.
“I’m Allison. What’s your name?” She asks me cheerfully.
“Luke,” I say, a little surprised at her lack of self consciousness.
“Cool. Are you exited to be interrogated?”
“W-what?” I stammer, searching her face for familiarity.
“I know you’re a Hero. I am as well. So you can cut the clueless crud,” Allison says bluntly.
“Right. Truthfully, I have no idea what I’m doing here. And I don’t know what you meant when you said ‘Hero’,” I reply sheepishly.
“Hero. You know. People with cool powers. Like us. For example, I’m pretty sure I have air power. And you, my friend, are here to be interviewed.” Allison smiles.
“Right.”
“Are you attracted to me?” She asks.
“I- what?” I manage, wondering how she knew.
“It’s okay. Heroes get this sense of comfort and happiness in the presence of other Heroes in the human world. It’s how we detect each other. So you don’t really like me. I feel the same way about you. That’s how I knew you were a Hero; I got this warm happy feeling inside, like hot chocolate. I’ll bet that’s how you feel right now, huh?”
I nod, relieved, but also a little put-out that I don’t have a crush on Allison.
“So what power do you think you have?” She asks conversationally.
“I dunno. I have dreams that happen within the next week sometimes. And sometimes, when I’m really aggravated, the sink turns on. Once the water heater exploded.”
Allison’s smile vanished and her eyes widened. “Both of those things happen to you?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Archion’s left nostril!” She cried, jumping out of her chair.
She collected herself and sat down, albeit still incredulous.
“ ‘Archion’s left nostril?’ Really?” I joke, trying to make light of the situation, whatever it is.
“Archion. The best Hero ever. The founder of Anthumys. Surly you know what Anthumys is.”
“Nope.”
“That’s irrelevant, anyway. But seriously? You have two powers?”
I wring my hands together. “I don’t know. But both those things happen. I still have no idea what’s happening here.”
“Oh my God. The prophecy… It can’t be… Not for another hundred or so years…” She mutters to herself.
“Um, Allison? What prophecy? What’re you talking about?”
“I don’t think I should be the one to tell you.”
“Um, okay, I’ll ask Dalton then.”
She sobers and meets my eyes. “Luke, don’t ask Kurtis Dalton anything. He. Will. Not. Answer. You. Okay?” She asks in a staccato-like fashion.
“Um, right.”
“And don’t try to talk to him either. Say nothing but the answers of his questions. Don’t ask me why not, because I’m just as clueless as you. All I know is it’s a very bad idea.”
“Okay…?”
“Good. Now. Speak to no one as you leave this place. As soon as you realize you’re a Hero, the Superiors will seek you. When they do- and they will- act clueless. ‘Kay?”
“Rodger,” I say, deciding to hold all questions. They won’t get answered.
I don’t get called for twenty more minutes. Me and Allison spend the time talking about Anthumys, the camp-slash-school for Heroes.
Every time I mention the ‘prophecy’ or Kurt Dalton, her face goes white and she looks behind herself before hastily changing the subject.
“Lucas Schuster,” A pleasant female voice calls over the intercom.
“Good luck, Luke. Go in the first door on the left.” Allison smiles at me.
“I know, my mom told me already. Bye.” I enter the hallway that houses the dentist’s examination rooms and knock on the first door to the left.
“Enter,” A familiar, curt voice says in a tone that suggests he loathes me.
I do so.
“Lucas Schuster,” The black haired man sitting behind the desk says. “I am Kurt Dalton, teacher of mind control at Anthumys. You may call me Kurt. Now, your interrogation.
“Do you ever find yourself speaking in tongues?”
“No, sir.”
Kurt makes note of my response on his Steno pad. “Do you have a knack for gardening and growing plants?”
“No, sir.”
“Do you ever have dreams that come true within the next week?”
“Yes, sir.”
Kurt looks skeptical. “Provide me with an example, if you please.
“Last night I had a dream I was getting interviewed by a man named Kurt Dalton. You’re going to ask me if anything ever happens when I get mad,” I explain, hoping that that was what Kurt was looking for.
“It is so. And what is your answer?”
“Yes. Sometimes the sink randomly turns on or it starts raining. Once the water heater exploded.”
I notice the brief startled look on his sallow face. He quickly composes his features and moves on. “Both those things happen to you?”
“Yes.”
“I think we are done here. You may leave.”
I stand up and get my butt out of there.
When I get back to the waiting room, Allison’s name is being called over the intercom. She packs her sketchbook up and heads for the hall.
“I’ll see you soon, Luke,” She says cheerily to me before disappearing through Kurt’s door.

(Rather on the long side, yes, but it IS 6 pages. Feedback is my friend!)

Thank Merlin! Blogger let me log in!

2010-02-22T18:44:00.000-08:00

Yay! Blogger, which had previously disowned me, LET ME BACK ON!!! Groovy, no? Anyway. The Fisherman is at: filliburtfisherman.webs.com.
Update in the world of Natalie: Percy Jackson! Awesome book series. Read or DIE. Seriously. Hades will KILL YOU. JK.
And, the writer of that anonymous comment on my previous post, would you please clarify what you meant by that? Thanks. If you'd rather tell me privately for whatever reason, my email is nata1098@hotmail.com.
I made a YouTube account too. HalfBloodPrincess19. Add me as a friend if you have one.
An awesome website: notalwaysright.com. I LOL my head off each time I read it.
I CAN'T WAIT FOR THE SEVENTH HARRY POTTER MOVIE!!!!!!!
Sorry, that was random. But i havn't been able to post for a while, so I kinda needed that. LOL.
-Nata

The Fisherman!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

2010-01-22T21:07:00.000-08:00

I CAN'T BELEIVE IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The Fisherman is done!!!!
After five months of continuous work... It's over.
Holy McCartney. I'm kind of amazed with myself that I finished it. And, I only worked on it for five months, and I have 126 whole pages... Wow.
Click here to check out the story! I'm creating a site for it.
Farewell, my friends.

List?

2010-01-21T19:29:00.000-08:00

I just found this brilliant website called listverse.com. It's like this whole archive of lists. I love lists. So I thought I'd make my own set of lists(it seemed like a good idea).

The Books That Changed My Life Forever

1. The Lovely Bones(Alice Sebold)
"My name is Salmon, like the fish; my first name, Susie. I was fourteen when I was murdered on December 6, 1973."
About 14-year-old Susie Salmon. In the first chapter, she gets lured into an underground clubhouse, and, coincidentially, murdered by her neighbor, George Harvey. An amazing read. The movie was pretty good, to, for a movie adaption.

2. The Little Prince(Antoine De Saint Exubery)
"Such a sacred place, the land of tears."
An unnamed pilot narratares this story about a wonderful little man, reffered to as the Little Prince. I could not describe this story to you if I tried, so I will not. Read it.

3. The Robert Langdon series(Dan Brown)
"The camerlengo knew that the American professor and the Italian physisist desprately wanted to return the canister of antimatter to its subterranian hiding place, yet he kept running."
Consists of three books: The Da Vinci Code, Angels And Demons, and The Lost Symbol. I like them because Dan Brown isn't afraid to write about religious conspiracies, such as Jesus's supposed wife and daughter and the Pope having a son. Also, the whole story unravells at the very end, in a single statment or phrase. An amazing read.

4. Harry Potter series(J.K. Rowling)
"You're a wizard, Harry."
I love this series. It makes you beleive in magic and forces you to beleive that your Hogwarts acceptance letter is on its way by owl post. It's epic. You have to read it.

5. Yotsuba(Azuma)
"Let's have real curray, not fake curray this time!"
I cannot begin to explain this one either. It's Manga.

6. Small Steps: The Year I Got Polio(Peg Kehret)
"I awake to find myself unable to move..."
A memoir, about a 13 year old girl who gets polio and survives it. It's autobiographical.

7. Nightlight: A Parody(The Harvard Lampoon)
"I don't bid my mother farwell, because I suck at saying goodbye. It always comes out good-BUH."
A Twilight parody. Awesomely hilarious. Stars Belle Goose, who meets Edwart Mullen, a computer nerd with zero-interest in girls. Belle's convinced he's a vampire. Can she win his heart?

That's it for now. Await another list. Futere lists include but are not limited to:
*Weirdest things that have happened to me or someone I know
*Best movie adaptions of books
*Music that has changed my life
*A complete list of stories I have written and summeries of them
*Clothing articles I am obsessed with

In the words of my friend's phsyco little sister, hasta la bye bye.
-Nat

The Fisherman

2010-01-20T21:38:00.000-08:00

Hey, whoever's reading this! Which is nobody. Haha.
Just wanted to give you a heads up- I am almost done with my latest project, apprirpiately titled The Fisherman. I started this story sometime in early October or late September, and have 116 pages(as they would appear in a paperback, not full eight-by-ten pages). This will be the second story I actually complete. I'm so proud of myself ^_^
I'm going to open a new blog to post it on. Or I might make a website for it, depending on which works the best. This story is probably the best I've ever written, despite my avid scripture over the past five years. Nice. Well, at least I'm finally acomplishing something. My plan is to have my father read it, and then possibly send it to a publisher. I know it'll get rejected, however, seeing as the world is not ready for such a novel. Well, that and the fact that I'm a teenager, not even legally allowed to stay in a hotel room without an adult. And, it doesn't help that I happen to be female. The main character of this story is male, because I wanted a challenge, seeing as I was bored of the dry, boring peices I used to create. Well, that and a female character wouldn't fit this role.
I'm rambling. I seem to have a talent for rambling. Oh, and I might possibly have eiditic(is that spelled right?) memory. Well, I can recite whole paragraphs from books after reading them only once. I at least posess adequate retention. Oh, and if you haven't already, GO SEE THE LOVELY BONES. It is possibly the best film I have ever seen in theatres. Of course, the BEST films are Across The Universe, Help!, A Hard Day's Night, The Nightmare Before Christmas, Coraline, and Flight Of The Conchords(Shut up. I know it's not a film, but it is brilliant.)
Oh, and I might share this with you: Thoughts have mass. It's true. No, I did not just make that up. It's a feild of science called Noetics. Google it. Also a Noetic science breakthrough, the human body becomes considerably lighter in mass after meeting its demise. Seriously. Look into Noetic science. It's pretty cool.
Those of you in the cheaper seats, clap your hands. Those in the more expensive seats, if you'll just rattle your jewellry.(John Lennon, 1963)

An Unplausable Fic About Draco Malfoy And Some Other People

2010-01-17T11:52:00.000-08:00

*This is rather unplausible, I know, since Malfoy has known this girl in questain for ten years. But hey, I thought I'd explore the utter suckiness of our favorite Slytherin's life. Madisen: I still hate Draco.*

I sit, quietly sipping a butter beer in The Leaky Cauldron. I know I’m lucky to be alive, but I still can’t shake the recurring thought; I hate my life.
It’s true. My existence is utterly… Fowl. I cannot think of any other way to describe it. But foul seems as good a word as any.
Ever since the battle at Hogwarts, four years ago, I’ve been lonely and jobless. Most places won’t have me, because of my surname. Malfoy. It used to be a sought-after surname, but not since the fall of the Dark Lord that I so hated.
I never wanted to be a Deatheater. If it were not for my father, I might even have joined the Order Of The Phoenix. In fact, I’m glad we lost the war. Otherwise, I would be forced to run more ‘errands’ for Voldemort, and by errands I mean murders. Voldemort was keen on murdering.
The only reason I have a house is due to my inheritance. Despite the fall of the Deatheaters, my father remains wealthy. And in the Malfoy family, you receive your inheritance on your seventeenth birthday, as opposed to when your father meets his demise.
It was then that I heard the laugh.
It was a sound like sunshine turned to laughter. It was certainly abnormal.
And yet, it sounded vaguely familiar.
I turn my head to see the backside of a girl. I can tell she’s beautiful, even without seeing her face. Her hair is long and curly, the color of chocolate.
I felt an instantaneous attraction to this girl.
It was then that the man joined her, taking her hand and kissing her on the cheek.
The man, I recognized. Weasley. Ron Weasley. A bloke from Hogwarts. Potter’s friend. A filthy poor Gryffindor. A man I hated deeply.
It was then that I realized who the beautiful female was.
Hermione Granger. A Gryffindor mud blood.
Merlin’s beard.
Did I really just become attracted to Granger?
No. It can’t be her.
But she turns around and I know it is.
At least she won’t recognize me. My once-white-blond hair is now dark brown, and my once sneering face is now relaxed to an absent expression.
I dyed my hair to sever all ties with my father Lucius. It seemed like a good idea. But now I realize how juvenile it was. Despite my yearning to separate myself from the Malfoy family, I know that altering my appearance won’t do anything. I’m still Draco Malfoy, no matter what I do.
I suddenly get an urge to punch Weasley, like Granger did to me all those years ago. I can’t remember why it was anymore. Everything that happened before the war is rather murky, because the war changed my world so much.
I lost my long-time mentor, Severus Snape, in the war. I lost the one man that I truly respected in the war as well. I am ashamed to admit that I almost murdered him myself. Albus Dumbledore. Though I never admitted it, I always thought Dumbledore was an amazing wizard. In fact, I shamefully acted as though I hated him as much as my father did.
I didn’t even have any friends. Crabbe and Goyle were utter idiots, and Blaise was simply vile. Pansy was thick and bothersome, and her obsession with me was obvious. I don’t know why I agreed to go out with her when we were sixteen. Snape and Dumbledore were the only people I actually didn’t hate. Okay, I didn’t hate my mum or Crabbe or Goyle either.
Granger and Weasley are soon accompanied by two familiar people: Ginny Weasley and Harry Potter. They greet each other and find a table.
I bury my head in my copy of the Daily Prophet. Since the war, there really hasn’t been any news. With Voldemort dead, I don’t see how there could be.
I feel a nagging urge to go say hello to the Weasleys, Potter, and Granger. Mostly Granger.
Hermione Granger, the mud blood goody-Gryffindor.
Subconsciously, I arise. I stride over to the table inhabited by the Gryffindors. “Hi,” I say lamely.
Hermione and Ginny look up. Potter and Weasley follow, after brief hesitation.
“Hello,” Hermione says, confused.
“Mate, do I know you?” Ron asks.
“Yes.” I pause. “I mean, not really. I was, er, a year older then you in school. I was a Gryffindor. My name is…” I pause, racking my brain for a name. “Vincent Burke.”
Sod. Not my best notion. Vincent was Crabbe’s first name. And Burke, well, of Borgin and Burke’s. The store in Diagon Ally.
“Oh. Hi. Can I help you?” Harry said politely.
“Er, I just wanted to say hello, really.” I plaster a fake smile on my pathetic face and leave the pub.
When I get outside, I breath in gulp after gulp of fresh air. It feels like a relief after the pub’s smoky, alcohol scented air. I cannot stand the aroma of alcohol.
Why is my life so unfair?
Why must I fall for a girl I know I will never have? Why must I be a Malfoy? These and a multitude of other questains loom over my meaningless existence.

The First Horcrux

2010-01-09T22:12:00.000-08:00

I smile smugly as the train to London pulls to a stop. The passengers are all going home for the holidays. All exept me.
I have no intention of going to the place in which I grew up. Why would I ever go there again? It's a vile place. Terrible.
But that's irrelevant. I am going to The Riddle House. Where my dirty, cheating father lives.
I do not intend for him to survive my visit.
My grin broadens as I recall yesterday's events.

"Professor Slughorn, I was wondering if you could explain something to me."
He had looked up from the hourglass on the table. "Yes?"
"I was reading something about a bit of dark magic yesterday in the restricted section, and I saw something rather odd. A bit of magic called a horcrux. It got me thinking, are there things you are not allowed to teach us?"
Slughorn sobered. "That is very dark stuff, Tom. A horcrux is an object in which one conceals a bit of one's soul. But to make one, you must mangle your soul."
I arranged my face to look interested and surprised. "And how does one mangle one's soul?"
Slughorn now looked terrified. "To mangle one's soul, one must commit a murder."
"Could you make, say, seven horcruxes?"
"This is completely hypothetical, right, Tom?"
"Of course, Professor."
"Well, I supose one could make multiple horcruxes if one were to commit multiple murders. I say, Tom, the thought of comitting multiple murders is terrrible! Even to commit one murder!"
I nodded. "Of course, Professor. I was simply curious. Good night."

Stupid Slughorn. I laugh out loud. Luckily, Slughorn seemed to take an affinity to me. Such an affinity enabled me to ask prying questains without being suspected.

I step into King's Cross Station. I waste no time Apparating(though we've had only one Apparition course, I have mastered it for this purpose. After all, you can Apparate in Hogsmeade. That is were I practiced.) to The Riddle House. I would dispose of whoever else inhabited the house, as well.

"Alohamora."
I open the door and let myself in. I hear voices in the dining room.
I go in to see a man that looks remarkably like myself, along with a man and a women who must be his parents. Muggles. Discusting.
"Hello," I say to them.
The women looks taken aback. "How did you get in?"
"That is irrelevent. Avada kedavra." The light leaves the women's face.
"Avada kedavra." The light leaves the senior man's face.
The younger man, my father, looks terrified.
"Petrifucus totalus." He is stone.
"Hello, father. My name is Tom Riddle. I am here for the sole purpose of avenging you. You are a dishonorable Muggle. Crucio."
He can't contort his face or move at all, but I can tell he is in pain. Never have I ever meant a spell as much as that.
"Crucio." I am thouroughly enjoying this.
"Nox." I discontinue the petrifying spell. I want to see the light leave his face as I say, literally, the 'magic words'.
"Avada kedarva."
Upon his face is a frozen combonation of surprise, disgust, fear, and disquietude. I smile more copiously then I ever have as I leave the house. The Riddles deserve what they got. My grandparents, for giving birth to my father. My father for a multitude of things. Things that could never be forgiven. In fact, it pains me to share his name. Thomas. Tom. And the horrible surname Riddle. I wish only to gain a new name; one that is unique in all the world, one that will strick fear into the hearts of anyone who hears it.
Like the name I have fashioned.

Voldemort.

Il Mostro

2009-12-28T23:14:00.000-08:00

(1473 Florence, Italy)

It is dawn.

The assassin had just left the estate of Mario Sancini, an art buyer.

Sancini is no longer alive.

The assassin didn't feel alive either. But of course, he never had. He didn't even have a name. The 'wanted dead or alive' posters that decorated the town didn't have a name for him either. Il Mostro, they called him. The Monster.

Truer words had never been spoken. For even he himself know it was true.

Io sono un mostro, He thought. I am a monster.

His world was surreal. He was invincible; for despite the wanted posters, the assasin strolled freely through town. Nobody suspected him.

È perché sono un fantasma.

It is because I am a ghost.

For Il Mostro was an albino. Disowned by his parents as an infant, he was taken in by a blacksmith. His skin was ivory and his eyes challenged the color of rubies.

Florence was not the ideal place for a ghost such as Il Mostro. There were few jobs for a man like him. He could not own a shop. He could not own a cafe. He could not fix buildings. He was much to dishonorable for that.

Starving and without shelter, Il Mostro commenced a search for work. He found work.

The only career for him was the one nobody else would do.

He had no choice but to be an assassino. An assassin.

**************************************************************************

(I just got the idea and wrote this out of the purple. I don't know if I'll expand on it or not. And the Italian is terrible. Await further detail. I'm tired.)

Meet the band.

2009-12-28T21:20:00.000-08:00

(This is from a story I'm working on. Let's see if you can guess the theme.)
****************************************************************************

James Ralston.
Brian Ford.
Pete Asher.
Rill Moonn.
Four blokes.
One common talent.
One summer in Liverpool.

Meet the band.

**************************************************************************

Chapter One: James Ralston

I first met Brian at a grungy underground club in the bad part of town. It was February 7, 1958. He was playing with his band, playing guitar incorrectly and singing. He was off-key, but I appreciated the enthusiasm. It’s not every day you see a bloke singing that energetically.
Brian was obviously older then me. And I hadn’t ever met him before, though I’d seen the posters; BRIAN FORD AND THE ROCKETMEN! Advertising this venue.
As the show ended, I clapped possibly the loudest. The band left the stage.
I ran over to catch them.
“My name is James Ralston. I just wanted to tell you what a good job you did. I play guitar to.” I said, holding my hand out to shake. He just eyed it. I let my hand drop.
“Brian Ford. Let’s see what you got.” He trusted his guitar at me. Perfect.
I turned it backwards to accommodate my left handed playing. I began to play a popular Snivel Berkley tune.
“You dig okay,” Brian said approvingly to me as I gave him his guitar back.
“Thanks,” I replied.
“You should come practice with us. Tomorrow night at seven, come here.”
“Okay.”
He scrutinized me. “How old are you, kid?”
“I’m sixteen.”
His face fell slightly. “Oh, I’m seventeen. So is everyone else in the band. But that’s okay.”
We said our goodbyes and I walked home. My older brother, Jerry, was sitting at the table doing school work.
“Hey, Jer,” I said as I walked to our room and took my coat off.
“Jamie, where were you?” He asked with minute concern.
“I was at that club, listening to a skiffle band,” I replied nonchalantly.
“Groovy.”
“Yeah. I’m gonna practice with ‘em tomorrow night.”
He looks over at me. “Really? You joinin’ their band?”
I shake my head. “No, just goin’ to play.”
“Oh. Groovy.” I nod. Certainly groovy.

************************************************************************

Chapter Two: Brian Ford

“Hey, Aunt Molly,” I say as I step through the door.
“Brian, where were you?” She asks me sharply.
“I was playing with the band like I told you.”
“Well, you were out late. Come home earlier next time.” She scolded.
“Right, yeah, okay,” I say half-heartedly. I know I won’t come home early and I hate lying. But it’s inevitable when dealing with my aunt.
I go to my room and play my guitar for a few minutes, not playing anything in particular. I’m thinking about the band, wondering if I should get that James bloke to join.
He plays pretty well. I wonder if he can sing? Or play piano? Or…Play anything else? I hope he can.
I put my guitar away and get into my bed.
Drifting off to sleep, I decide I will have him join the band.
But not yet.

(I have six chapters. Maybe I'll share the rest later.)

War Is Over

2009-12-24T14:53:00.000-08:00

Happy Christmas! Was is over, if you want it. Happy Christmas from John and Yoko. Haha. That's John's Christmas song.
Oh, LOL, you probably don't know who John is. Lennon, of course. For some reason, I can't add pics anymore. It's annoying.
But go to Bing and type in 'the beatles christmas' for some fabulous Christmas cheer from evreyone's favorite band, The Beatles! Yay. Anyway... Happy Christmas.

The End Of Us(A Beatles fic)

2009-12-23T12:27:00.000-08:00

I'd spent so many hours here in the past six years of my life. Recording, writing, bugging around. Bugging around with my best friends. And now it was over.
I probably look pretty sullen, because George keeps patting my shouldier and saying, "I know," and Ringo keeps half-smiling at me. I half-smile back, but I don't mean it.
Ring and Geo are being as friendly as ever, but John refuses to talk to me. I've been trying to resolve our row, but he doesn't want to recommence our friendship. Despite the fact that we've been inseperable since I met him, more then ten years ago. It seems like a long time.
"Okay, lads, let's get rolling," The photographer says cheerfully.
I take a drag off my cigarette. I don't feel bloody cheerful.
The makeup lass finishes smearing that powder stuff on John and starts Ringo.
My shoes are bloody pinching my toes. I yank them off, along with my socks, and abandon them on the sidewalk. Nobody protests.
I adjust my suit jacket. They said to wear whatever we want, so I wore my favorite suit, even though it isn't my best. John's wearing one of his 'hip' white suits, Ringo's wearing his omnipresent black suit, and Geo's wearing some denim thing.
As I look at my mates(I refuse to think of Johnny as anything different), I realize we've all changed a lot since 1958. Then, we were a set of rebels in tight pants who could play a few songs and sing a little. We were just mates. We weren't famous, none of us could make a teenage girl faint with a single smile. Now it doesn't even take that to get a girl to swoon.
"Okay," The photographer says again. We get in a line and assemble ourselves on the crosswalk, just as planned. John goes first, then Ring, me, and George. I don't even bother abandoning my cigarette, because I know John will leave as soon as the photo is taken, and there won't be time for re-takes.
It's always been The Beatles. I've never really been Paul. I've only been Paul, the cute Beatle. Just like Ringo is Ringo, the sweet Beatle. John has always been the leader and George has always been the... I don't know. I think he's the exotic one? But anyway. It takes all four of us to be The Beatles.
Just like our manager Brian always said. But Brian died three years ago.
I think that's when we started to disband. Brian was like the tape that held us together.
The photoshoot ended. John left. I decided to go back inside the studio, Abby Road Studio, to say goodbye one last time.
This place has been our studio from the beginning. And now, we've finished recording our last album and ended The Beatles forever.
Rather, John has ended The Beatles forever. I did my best to keep us together. But even George, Ringo and I are to different to be a band anymore. George wants to focus on Indian music. Ringo... I don't even know if he wants to drum anymore. I definately don't want to end my music career. I've already decided to make a solo album.
I leave the studio. Christ, I can't get over how different we are now. I can still recall our early days, wearing matching collarless suits(inforced by Bri, of course) and our mop-top haircuts that were considered daring. Well, I have the shortest Beatle hair currently and it touckes my shouldiers in the back. The times have certainly changed.
I bid George and Ringo goodbye, leaving the place that I've spent so many hours in, and also kind of leaving the band. It feels official now, since we have our last album finished. Well, probably our last; John's pushing to release the Get Back recording sessions, along with that terrible documentary we filmed while recording. I'm only proud of two songs on that album, 'Get Back' and 'The Long And Winding Road'. But the album is nice, I guess, since it's one hundered percent us. No synthesizers, no orchestra, no choir. Just the four blokes.
It's almost poetic in a way, this break up. It's the toughest break up I've ever dealt with.
It's a sad album, that Abby Road.

Chapter Nine, Part I: Wanted

2009-12-15T07:38:00.000-08:00

Merlin's beard.
This is absolutely terrible.
In fact, so terrible that I almost trip.
But being clumsy for eighteen years rather teaches you how to catch yourself.
Oh.
Oh.
I hope he's okay. Not for his sake, but for Madisen's.
I sincerely hope they have not yet caught him.
This is just the opposite of what I was hoping for.
Does he know? Does Madisen?
Well, I know. That might be enough if I can warn him, but I cannot write him. Owls are to easily intercepted.
Oh, bloody, bloody, bloody...
I silently curse the world as I stare at the posters.
"WANTED- DRACO MALFOY"

Chapter Eight: Hunch

2009-12-14T21:23:00.000-08:00

It is strange to be a twin and be seperated from your twin.
Really, it is. But despite the distance between us, I could feel(albeit, slightly) what she was feeling. Just another odd magic twin quality.
And I felt fear, exhaustion, and misery.
I could only feel it if I was really trying. And I was, concentrating hard. Madisen was tired, scared, and miserable.
I sincerely hope neither Madisen nor Draco goes to 12 Grimmauld Place, the head quarters of the Order(and the home of the late Sirius Black, Harry Potter's godfather), because I doubt they would take the presence of people like them with open arms. And anyway, I would not be there to explain.
People like them. I shudder. I have never thought of my sister as a Deatheater. Our older sisters, I could understand, seeing as they are vile and cruel. But another quality they posess, both Isabella and Rumor, is cowardice. They were to afraid to join. So they just stayed in the United States with their little happy families(Rumor has one daughter and Isabella has a daughter and a son) and avoided all this danger.
I am not brave either. Quite the contrary. In fact, I always wondered why I got put into Gryffindor. But I am simply unable to sit back and watch the terrible fight. I have to help. In even the tinniest ways.
Despite the lack on contact, I set the guest room up. There's s towel on the chair and fresh sheets on the bed.
I just feel like she's going to come. At this point, I'd even be glad if Draco Malfoy came through my doorway. At least he would help me find Madisen.
It's time for me to do my monthly piece for The Quibbler, I realize. I load my quill and begin writing.
I write the advice collumn. In fact, there's a stack of letters on my desk ready to be answered.

Dear Natalie,
My husband hasn't been acting regular of late.
He says he is just worried, because his father is very ill and in St. Mungo's, but I know Hans very well, and somthing more must be wrong. I made his favorite onion soup for supper last nite, but he barely touched it. I'm afraid something is seriously wrong with him. What say you?
-Damsel In Distress

I shudder at the atrocious grammer and spelling. If there is one thing that annoys me enough to break something, it is misspelled words and incorrect grammer.
And also, I loathe the...Corny(I use this word only due to lack of a better one) sign-offs they use. 'Damsel In Distress'? Who would use that? I write back, regardless.

Dear Damsel In Distres,
I suggest you confront Hans about his behavior. It could very well be that he is disquieted about his father, but you will only know if you speak to him about it. Be calm when you do and ask gentle questions, for you do not wish to make your situation worse. Best of luck in consoling him!
-Natalie Grisham

As I send the package of letters and responses to Xenophilius Lovegood(The editor of The Quibbler), I suddenly have a feeling that, despite my wishes, Draco is headed to 12 Grimmauld Place.
I think this because things always seem to turn out exactly the opposite of how I want them to turn out. I am unlucky, I suppose.
But such lack of luck may be exactly what I need to find Madisen. I could go to Grimmauld Place. I know I would be welcome there. If, in fact, there is anybody inhabiting the house.
And while I am in London, I could visit the Weasly's Wizarding Wheezes, Fred and George Weasly's joke shop. It might reduce my melencholy state. And anyway, the twins are good company. They know how it feels to have a twin, obviously, seeing as they themselves are twins.
And maybe they know something about the Deatheater's recent activity that I do not.
Without thinking much more, I don my cloak, grab my bag, and Apparate to London.
But what I see as soon as I arrive makes me wish that I had not.

Chapter 7: Waiting

2009-12-13T21:15:00.000-08:00

I stare at the sheet of partchment in front of me, quill loaded and in position to write.

I let the quill fall.

I know I won't be able to write anything. I havn't written anything since Madisen contacted me, a whole seven months ago.

That is a really, really long time for a writer.
But my mind just is not working. In fact, it is amazing that I managed to write my monthly collumn for The Quibbler. But I guess I have to make money somehow.

I wonder where she is. This is the longest we've been apart, ever. A whole year and a half. Even though she was a Slytherin and I was a Gryffindor in school, sworn enemies, we worked together in Herbology or whatever class we were in together(there was always one). And we messed around in Hogsmeade together as well. Until she started going out with Draco in our fifth year. Then, usually, I went with Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood or someone. Always Gryffindors or Ravelclaws. I don't know why; I'm not usually predujuced. But I guess Slytherins just aren't like me.
Which is odd, I know, considering my whole family was in Slytherin other then me. And they're all either death eaters or they don't take sides. I'm the only one who is with the Order Of The Phoenix. Well, as much as I can be, what with being only eighteen.

Was it possibly a false alarm? Is Madisen actually okay? Or is she really pregnant, and the vile Deatheaters took it okay? I wonder if Dad knows.
No, the Deatheaters would not take it okay. They would kill both Madisen and Draco, I'd imagine.
Ugh! My mind is overfilling again. This is what happens when I refrain fron writing. I simply cannot bear it.
I get up from my desk and put a disc in my phonograph.
I know it's a Muggle contraption, but I cannot live without The Beatles music. Yes, I know they're Muggles to, but they are much better then any wizard bands.
Also, phonographs are outdated. But I couldn't use an electronic updated version, because, well, I don't have any outlets in my house.
In fact, I only know what they are because of Muggle Studies class.
I select 'Let It Be' and play it.
I listen for the first four songs, but when 'Let It Be' comes on, I begin to cry.
I am pathetic. But the song makes me think of Madisen, and I recall the first time I played it for her.
I can't remember how old we were. But it went like this:

I put the LP on.
"I like this song. Is it by that Muggle band you obsess over?" She'd asked.
"Yeah. But this song is kind of depressing."
We just listened for a little while.
"Make sure they play this at my funeral," She said, suddenly breaking the silence.
I gaped at her. "What? Are you planning on dying soon? Or before me?"
She had giggled. "No, no, Natalie. You can be so thick sometimes. I was just kidding."
"Right." I've never been good at detecting sarcasm. Which gave Madisen reason to use it profusely. It grows quite monotonous, after a while. But she enjoyed it, and I have never been one to speak out for my benefit.

So for some reason, it made me cry to hear this song. Big, pathetic, baby sobs.
I barely ever cry. And when I do, it's usually because one of my friends is sad. I cannot bear to see people sad.
My cat, Ringo(Named after Ringo Starr, the drummer of The Beatles), comes over to where I am seated on the couch and sympathetically plops down on my lap. I stroke him and collect myself.
Madisen is fine.I'm sure of it.

"...There will be an answer, let it be, let it be. Let it be, let it be! Let it be, yeah, let it be. Yeah there will be an answer, let it be..." Paul McCartney sang sadly.

"Yeah, Natalie, let it be. She's fine." I say aloud, feeling foolish. I feel mental when I talk to myself.
I know seven months is a long time to worry about someone, but Madisen is my twin sister, and we've always been...Connected. I don't know how to describe it. But it is like she is my other half.
Well, that and we look similar.
Somewhat. Madisen has dark blond hair; mine is more red. And I have more freckles, and longer hair. But other then that, we look the same. Same eyes. Same lips, nose, body. Same shoe and clothing size.
I wonder if she still looks the same? She's probably dyed her hair again. I wonder what color.

And, she may be a few sizes larger then me if her worry was legitamite.

Merlin's pants. I really should stop overthinking things so profusely. It's getting redundent.

The record ends and I return to my desk. I reload my quill and write out a letter:

Madisen,
I hope this gets to you. I'm really worried.
Please, please contact me. I know we agreed to refrain from writing eachother when we took different sides, but I am disquieted and have been unable to write anything.
Are you alright? Are you with Draco? If you are in trouble, tell me where you are. I'll Apparate over and take you to my house in a Muggle airplane(They take the place of long-distance Apparition and brooms and Floo powder). Please reply.
Love, Natalie

I give it to my owl, Annalee, and tell her to try and find Madisen.
I really, really hope she isn't dead.

Cumbersome and monotonous, I give you the word 'usually'

2009-12-11T12:24:00.001-08:00

Not long ago, in a town not far from the one in which you were born, lived a man named Wallace Ralston Filliburt. Such a man happens to be the hero of the story that can, unless you have fed every page of this book but this one into your shredder, be found on the following sheets of paper.
As a writer, I do quite fancy giving elaborate descriptions of the characters within the pages of my novels. Usually, there are no exceptions to this hobby of mine.
Yet one might find that the word ‘usually’ is rather deceiving, if one should think to deeply about it. I, for example, once thought about this word for hours as I attempted to fall asleep in my bed. As a result of my over-thinking, I inferred that the word ‘usually’ really is a terrible one, not unlike the words ‘possibly’, ‘maybe’, ‘sometimes’, and the phrases ‘a little’, ‘probably not’, ‘I think so’, and ‘if the stars are in the correct position’. Such phrases and words irk me, as none are definite. I am a person who prefers bluntness. And, though not all like blunt responses, I think most people appreciate definite answers, such as ‘yes’ or ‘no’. Such answers that are true.
For instance, and this is only an example, suppose your name is Wally. And you want to have a party. But when you ask your mother, she utters the word ‘maybe’, a word so easy to use, and goes back to whatever task she was attending to previously.
Would it not annoy you corpulently? Despite the disappointment it may bring on, would you not rather she just said, ‘no’?

As you’ve inferred from the anecdote previous to this paragraph, the word ‘usually’ is quite a cumbersome one.
For, despite the fact it is easy to dismiss a query with a simple ‘usually’ instead of just ‘yes’, it is annoyingly hard to really mean it when one utters the word ‘usually’.
For the sake of this story, let’s say that ‘usually’ is the equivelent of 'nintey percent of time’.
Such as:
“Do you like apple pie?”
One is not always in the mood for pie. “Usually.”
Suppose the person who asked you this random query wants to get you an apple pie for John Lennon Day, which is an unofficial holiday that falls on December Eighth. Most people do not celebrate John Lennon day, and those who do typically refrain from sending their friends and family pie for it. But I suppose some people are hard-core enough to send a pie to each of their friends, like the fictitious friend here.
And John Lennon day falls, but you are not in the mood for pie. It is one of those days in which the ten percent is acting up. But like most things, pie is best eaten fresh.
So this apple pie is shoved into the back of your refrigerator and forgotten about.
The pie is wasted due to the uncertainty of the word ‘usually’.

And henceforth, ‘usually’ is one of the most tedious words in the English language.

That, friends, is an exerp from my current story in the works. ^_^

You Say It's Your Birthday...

2009-12-09T17:11:00.000-08:00

Happy birthday, John!
Had he lived, John Lennon would be 70 today. And yesterday was his 29th death aneversary. Sad, I know.
But I am not here to discuss that; see the below post for the obituary. Today is his birthday.
The title refers to the Beatles's song, 'Birthday'. Grooveshark it.
The funny thing is, his birthday is in December, just like mine! Yay.
Groove on, mates. Groove on.

John Winston Ono Lennon 1940-1980

2009-12-08T21:01:00.000-08:00

John Winston Ono Lennon
December 9, 1940
December 8, 1980

John Lennon died exactly 29 years ago. He was an amazing musician, an amazing singer, and an amazing person. John wanted peace and love and for the world to be united. He said no to violence. Poor John met his early demise one cold night in December...

************

Discussing their latest album, John Lennon and his wife Yoko were walking along the near deserted streets of New York, towards their apartment building, The Dakota. It was about 10:50 P.M.
The couple failed to realize the presence of the man walking twenty paces behind them. Such a man was named Mark David Chapman.
The Lennons were oblivious. Until they heard his voice.
"Mr. Lennon!"
John and Yoko both turned their heads to see who it was.
Just a fan, thought John, for he was unable to see what this 'fan' was hiding in the folds of his coat.
But before John or Yoko could respond to the man, he pulled out a gun.
And shot five times at John. only four shots made their target, but the damage was done.
John's blood-stained glasses flew to the ground as he fell. Yoko screamed.

He was taken to the hospital, and at 11:07 P.M. on December the eigth in Anno Domini 1980, in New York, New York, John Winston Ono Lennon was pronounced dead on arrival.

************
This may sound corny, but despite the fact that John Lennon is dead, his music lives on forever.
John is immortal.

We're still imagining, just like you wanted us to.

R.I.P. The Walrus

Chapter 6: The Note

2009-12-05T08:53:00.000-08:00

I was editing my novel, but suddenly my mind filled with a voice. It sounded distressed, but still recognizable. Exept I couldn't place it. "Natalie," It said, "I miss you. I hope you'll be able to help me." And then it faded. I automatically looked behind me. Nobody was in my small cottage exept me and my cat, who was sleeping lazily on the couch. But then an owl flew through the door and I realized exactly who the voice belonged to and what she meant.

Natalie,
I know we haven't spoken in a while, and I'm sorry.
But I have a problem.
I might be pregnant.
With Draco's child.
I really hope you'll understand if I have to leave.
Write back soon,
-Madisen

I could hardly read the note, due to trembling hands. Madisen. The sister I had not seen since we graduated Hogwarts. I'd missed her so much, but I'd always known it was for the better that we refrained from contacting eachother, since she was a deatheater and I was with the Order. However, I had recently heard that my dad, Vicarian, was in Azkaban. I wasn't really worried about him; those deatheaters are very capable. I was worried about my twin sister, who was just as vulnerable as he. Madisen is really the only one who understands me. That, I imagine, is why she contacted me instead of Rumor or Isabella. Neither one of us have ever really gotton along with them, but we've always understood eachother. In fact, I don't know if we've ever fought. She knows I care deeply about her. I'll help in anyway possible.
But I haven't seen her in a year.
I pick up a quill, find some parchment, and begin to write back:

Madisen,
Of course I understand. I'll do whatever I can to help you, but it might be hard for us to meet.
Of course, you couldn't apparate, but I can meet you somewere if needed. I'd be happy to help anyway possible. If you need to come live with me, go to Drywood Cottage on the coast of the magic division in Oregon. I hope you figure out what to do. Let me know as soon as you do.
Lots of love, Natalie.

I fold my letter and hand it to the owl that brought me hers. I feed the owl an owl treat and it leaves.
I hope Draco's taking it okay. He's never really liked me, because I was the one in my family to join the Order as much as an eighteen year old girl can instead of the Deatheaters. And because of it, I haven't been able to talk to Madisen, Isabella, Rumor, or Dad. It's been driving me balistik not to talk to Madisen. Our older sisters and Dad, I can manage, but Madisen was harder. I know she feels the same way.

Then I have an epiphany. Madisen isn't a rambler, but she would probably write a longer letter then she did, on account of not seeing eachother for a year. But it was only six short sentances.
There must be more to it then her possibly being pregnant, then. I examine the handwriting. It's similar to mine. I recognize it as hers. But it's bigger and messier then usual. And there's a spot of ink on the page.
I concentrate, hard, on talking to her- the way we figured out to send telepathy messages to one another- and think three sentances.
"I hope you're okay. I miss you to. I'm here to help."

Rubber Soul

2009-11-30T19:22:00.000-08:00

Holy poptarts*. Have you ever heard Rubber Soul, the Beatles CD?
If the answer to that is no, you're missing out, mate. BEST CD EVER. Seriously. If I had some way to put it on my blog, I would. I got it last....What day was that? I think it was Monday. So a week ago. I was at this rocksome music store. It's called Hot Poop, and it's one of a kind. The Walla Walla Bing Bang Record Store. But anyway, all the Beatles's CDs were on sale for $15.00, so I bought Rubber Soul. ROCKADELIC. And it came with this mini-rockumentary about the production of the CD. It's narrarated by four of the six coolest people that ever lived(The other two coolest people being Bret McKenzie and Jemaine Clement, AKA the Rymenasoures and the Hiphopapotaums, AKA Flight Of The Conchords). And on the subject of my favorite band, I saw a groovy rockumentary about them. It lasted an hour. An hour of sheer joy. It was on the History Channel, Sunday at 2:00. But it's to late for you to watch it, unfortunately. LOL. But I'm sure you can Netflix it or buy it if you're hardcore enough.
If you're interested in the CD, here's a list of the groovy songs on it:
Drive My Car
Norwegian Wood
You Won't See Me
Nowhere Man
Think For Yourself
The Word
Michelle
What Goes On
Girl
I'm Looking Through To You
In My Life
Wait
If I Needed Someone
Run For Your Life

And visit my site!!!
All My Loving

If that doesn't work, natacatfics.webs.com
* Madisen, that was for you. All hail the Holy Poptart

Yet Another Groovy Prolougue

2009-11-14T10:11:00.001-08:00

Yay! More random story ideas! Here's one I'm calling The Time Cop:

I am responsible for solving rifts in time. I catch people who try to alter the timeline. It is my duty to constantly be on guard. If I let anything slip, the whole existence of this planet might be messed up. I am the only human that is allowed to time travel. If I fail, the Earth might suffer, along with its inhabitants.

If I fail, everything might be lost. The planet is at stake.

It is my duty to prevent such quandary, for I am the Time Cop.

Song Analysis

2009-11-08T19:56:00.000-08:00

OPERATION: ABORTED
You shan't see any more. Un-Blogger worthey, I'm afraid.

Remember that groovy prolouge a few posts down?

2009-11-06T20:39:00.000-08:00

Well, here's another! Actually, it's technically the first chapter. You might've seen my button(The one with Paul McCartney), which is for the site regarding this fic.

All My Loving

(If you like the below text, click the link above!)

************

“Aye, Ringo, why so glum?”

George Harrison asked Ringo Starr.

“No reason. I’m tired is all.” Ringo shrugged and took a sip of his drink.

Paul McCartney laughed. “More like ‘I don’t have a girl, is all,”

“Eh, lay off, Paulie,” John Lennon told Paul. “Ring’s had a tough life.” John then put his arm around Ringo’s shoulders in a falsely fraternal manner. John was always trying to be funny.

“Eh. I’m fine.” Ringo shrugged again.

“Mate, you bloody well need a girlfriend,” George decided, agreeing with the other two.

“You bloody well need an egg man and a few kittens,” Ringo said randomly under his breath. For some reason, it made him feel better to say odd things that made no sense.

“Right, but the thing is, Paul’s the git, so you can eat your phlegm,” John challenged back.

“Well, that may be, but some batches of penny cakes or liver muffins may do you good,” Paul put in.

“But, dear Paulie, there’s a snag in your plan: I’m to much of a git to make penny cakes. I’m much better at submarine explosions.” Ringo contradicted, proving he was best at his game.

“You three are amazingly arrogant. All the while, you’re forgetting the swimming pool cookie dough that needs baking.” George volunteered, despite the fact that he usually failed miserably in the game Ringo and John so liked to play.

“But what about the poor neglected mega-monkeys and all their un-known secrets?” John protested.

“They can sod off and go back to their caves,” Was Paul’s nonchalant reply.

“But what about all the pus and strawberries that fill their caves?” Ringo whined.

“Well, the caves need to be cleaned up first, obviously,” John rolled his eyes.

“Not necessarily, Johnny. We could just have them sleep in pasta buckets with anchovy spit,” Paul said, winking at George for no reason.

“Or, y’know, they could just fend for themselves,” Ringo offered.

“Mates, why are we so concerned about all the mega-monkeys when there are plenty of flabbergasted blue snakes out there that are without a home and warm syrup?” George asked, feeling proud of himself.
“It doesn’t matter. I’m going for a walk.” Paul stubbed out his cigarette and left the hotel room all four Beatles were staying at. He started down the street and into the night.

Awesomesauce Site

2009-11-01T13:47:00.000-08:00

I made a site. For a Beatles fic I'm working on. Since it's more of a long-term project, I thought I'd make a new thing for it. Blogger, in my mind, is for short term projects(Like random posts and short fics). So here's the button. Put it on your blog if you feel obliged.

My blog: My site:

Madisen's blog:

Prolouge for story

2009-10-30T22:59:00.000-07:00

'Ello, mates! Yay, tomorrow's Halloween! I'm posting a scary story that I'm working on tomorrow night. It should creep you out. And my Beatles fic is almost ready for posting, to. So it should be up by Sunday night. Madisen WORK ON THE NEXT CHAPTER OF THE HARRY POTTER FIC!!!!!!! LOL. Anyway, here's the prolouge for the story. Please E-mail me at nata1098@hotmail.com or leave a comment letting me know how suckedelical-slash-awesomesauce it is. BTW, this place(Free Spirit Lake) is 100% fictitious. But I give permission for any readers of this blog to use that name as a fictitious lake/pond/whatever mostly because I know how hard it is to come up with place names. ^_^

There is a lake in Idaho. This lake is called Free Spirit Lake. Free Spirit Lake has a story, as many places do. At this lake, in the year 1943, a seven year old Canadian girl went missing, and she was never found. But in 1953, her clothes were found. In 1963, another seven year old girl went missing. In 1973, they found her clothes. As you might’ve guessed in 1983, a third seven year old girl went missing. 2003 they found her clothes. Maybe in 2013, a fourth girl might go missing.
My family’s been going to Free Spirit lake since 1943. The first girl to go missing was my great-great-great aunt. Her brother was my great-great grandfather. My great-great-great grandfather and his brother had built that cabin were my great-great-great aunt, Lucille, was last seen. And every generation of my great-great grandfather, William’s offspring have been going ever since. The other girls who disappeared weren’t related to me at all, though. My Dad(on which whose side this is on) has a brother, but he and his wife and two kids never come here, because Uncle Martin, though he won’t admit it, is terribly afraid of the place, Dad told me. So the only people who regularly come here are my family, my cousin, Madelyne’s family(Dad’s sister Michelle’s daughter), and my grandparents are the only ones who go there.
My name is Elizabeth Audrielle Asher. And I’m about to go to a lake were three young girls went missing and were never found again.

A Tag(Gotten via Olive Tree)

2009-10-29T16:48:00.000-07:00

Wow....I've been on Blogger since late July and I've never done a tag! But this one's about music so I couldn't resist. If you're reading this I tag you.

Rules: put your iPod on shuffle (or iTunes, or your blog playlist, or whatever) and write down the song titles and artist as they come up to answer the questions!

IF SOMEONE SAYS "THIS IS OKAY" YOU SAY: Because by The Beatles(Right.....Makes sense...NOT. But I care not, I'm going to start saying that! LOL)

WHAT WOULD BEST DESCRIBE YOUR PERSONALITY? Helter Skelter by The Beatles(YES!!! 'Helter Skelter' means dissaray, BTW. Me in a nutshell!)

WHAT DO YOU LIKE IN A GUY/GIRL? Some Are by David Bowie(??)

WHAT IS YOUR LIFE'S PURPOSE? Instant Karma! by John Lennon(So, what, I want to experience Instant Karma? Okaaaaaaaaaaaaay...)

WHAT IS YOUR MOTTO? All You Need Is Love by The Beatles(Ironic...)

WHAT DO YOUR FRIENDS THINK OF YOU? Everybody's Got Somthing To Hide Exept For Me And My Monkey by The Beatles(does this mean they think I'm random and wierd? True)

WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT VERY OFTEN? Another Brick In The Wall pt. 1 by Pink Floyd(Hmmm....)

WHAT IS 2+2? The Night Comes Down by Queen(I quite like that answer. Beatles reference in the song is a plus, to!)

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR BEST FRIEND? Ziggy Stardust by David Bowie(In case you haven't heard the song, Ziggy is a big-headed musician who ends up having his hands crushed because he's to big-headed. UNTRUE)

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF A PERSON YOU LIKE? Foux De Fa Fa by Flight Of The Conchords(In French this means 'just nothing'. Doesn't make much sense...)

WHAT IS YOUR LIFE STORY? Albuquerque by Wierd Al(Listen to this song. It makes no sense.)

WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE WHEN YOU GROW UP? Paperback Writer(TRUE!!!!!! OMG this is ironic.)

WHAT DO YOUR MOM AND DAD THINK OF YOU? All Of My Love by Led Zepplin(Does this mean they love me a lot? Awwww)

WHAT WILL YOU DANCE TO AT YOUR WEDDING? Hold Me Tight by the Groovedelical Rock Gods(AKA The Beatles) (Wow I so toatally will when I get married in a million years)

WHAT WILL THEY PLAY AT YOUR FUNERAL? Lady Stardust by David Bowie(Sets the right mood)

WHAT IS YOUR HOBBY/INTERESTS? The Most Unwanted Song by David Soldier,Komar and Melmaid (Hmmm. Look this up, it's sooo LOL but in this context makes no sense.)

WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST SECRET? Band On The Run by Wings

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR FRIENDS? Ogre Battle by Queen(nope)

WHAT'S THE WORST THING THAT COULD HAPPEN? Love Is Not The Insturment Of Pain by Stew

HOW WILL YOU DIE? Amish Paradise by Wierd Al(Does this mean I'll be gang-murdered by some Amish people? AAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh!!)

WHAT'S THE ONE THING YOU REGRET? Inner City Pressure by Flight Of The Conchords

WHAT MAKES YOU LAUGH? Bike by Pink Floyd(not really...)

WHAT MAKES YOU CRY? Surfin' USA by The Beach Boys(nope...)

WILL YOU EVER GET MARRIED? Candle In The Wind by Elton John(?)

WHAT SCARES YOU THE MOST? Evacuate the Dance Floor by Cascada (um... huh?)

DOES ANYONE LIKE YOU? Doctor by The Who(Ummmm...)

IF YOU COULD GO BACK IN TIME, WHAT WOULD YOU CHANGE? Let It Be by The Beatles(Does this mean I'd change The Beatles breaking up? Sooo true.)

WHAT HURTS RIGHT NOW? Lulluby by The Cure(Nooooo...)

WHAT DO YOU MOST OFTEN EXCLAIM? Wierd Science by Oingo Boingo(Not usually...)

WHERE IS PARADISE? Jack's Obsession by Danny Elfman(More like Pepperland)

WHAT DID YOU FIRST SAY AS A BABY? Is There Anybody Out There? by Pink Floyd(My first word was NATA! because people were calling me 'Nat' and apparently I didn't like that, BTW my name is Natalie if you hadn't figured that out)

IF YOU HAD A PET, WHAT WOULD YOU NAME IT? Lovebug by The Jonas Brothers(No. And BTW, I HATE the Jonas Brothers, that's their only good song)

WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE SIGHT TO SEE? You Belong With Me by Taylor Swift(Again, I don't like many of her songs. Just a few. I can count them all on my fingurs.)

WHAT MAKES YOU GAG? Billy Jean by Micheal Jackson(??)

WHAT ARE YOU BEST AT? Honey, Honey by Mamma Mia! cast(not so much)

IF YOU WROTE A BOOK, WHAT WOULD IT BE CALLED? All You Need Is Love(maybe, but that's the second time this ssong has come on!)

WHAT DID YOU WISH FOR LAST? Paparazzi by Lady Gaga(Only good song by her, but no)

WHAT WOULD YOUR SUPERHERO NAME BE? Don't Stop Beleivin' by Journey(Cool. Do I get a cape?)

HOW SOON WILL THIS BE OVER? In Only Seven Days by Queen(That is creepy. But I hope it doesn't last THAT long!)

WHERE ARE YOU SITTING? The Girl Is Mine by Micheal Jackson and Paul McCartney(LOL random)

WHAT DO YOU MOST HATE? Venus In Furs by The Velvet Underground(I like that song!)

WHAT DO YOU MOST LOVE? (Real answer: The Beatles) Don't Eat The Yellow Snow by Frank Zappa(I only like that song a little bit)

WHAT IS YOUR SECRET NAME? I Can't Get No Satisfaction by the Rolling Stones(??? More like 'Dizzy Miss Lizzy' by The Beatles)

WHAT WILL YOU POST THIS AS? Livin' On A Prayr by Bon Jovi(EWWWWW!!! I HATE BON JOVI!!!)

That was groovedelical. Just FYI: I used Pandora AND my iPod and Grooveshark Shuffle for this. Every third song. Thought I might mix it up. Hence the song I don't like. (Bon Jovi SUCKS!!!)

-I tag awl of you.

Remember: Play nicely, childeren. Natacat wants happiness and peace!!

Speak Out Against Animal Cruelty!!

2009-10-28T21:13:00.000-07:00

I'm trying to raise awarness of animal cruelty, and I have started by joining a blog against it.
Visit this blog, and help STOP animal cruelty by clicking this button.

Groovedelical Coolness That Rocks

2009-10-25T13:22:00.000-07:00

Whaat's that picture, you ask?

Well. I posted a few weeks ago about an amazing fic starring Ringo Starr of my favorite band. And I meant to post a button, but I forgot. So...Mych more fun then the link, here you are! A lovely button made by Rebecca, the author of the groovy fic.(Yes, I did just use the word 'groovy'. And yes, I did arrive from the 1960s by time machine. Anyone wanna visit the fab four?)

Anyway. So click that button and prepare for an amazing fic experience.

Thanks for making this fic, Becca!

Plus, Becca's super nice. She even replied to the email I sent her. And an awesome writer.

GO THERE.

Natacat says MOOOOOO!!

Let It Be

2009-10-24T14:31:00.000-07:00

I was just listening to the Beatles song 'Let It Be' on the album, you guessed it, 'Let It Be'.
*snifffle* That is the saddest song I have ever heard. You can just hear the saddness in Paul's voice as he sings those depressing words. In case you didn't know, the song was written because the Beatles were breaking up and the message is basically 'Don't pester us, we're breaking up. Just let it be.' It's emensely depressing. *sniffles again*. Paul, I know you're not reading this, but if you are, then I'm sorry the Beatles broke up and I'm sad about it to. That is why I prefer to listen to The White Album and earlier, because Abby Road and Let It Be, though being fabulous peices of art, depress me. Even as I write this entry to my blog, which is named after a Beatles song Across The Universe(Words Are Flowing Out Like Endless Rain...), I'm listening to another sad song on the Let It Be album, 'The Long And Winding Road'. If you haven't heard this song, I'll just say that it makes my mind's eye envision a little puppy that was disowned and left in the street, and now he's trying to find his way back home, but he can't, and he eventually dies of cold and famin. I'm sad. And though I will forever love the Beatles, this album just makes me sad.
With that being said, my favorite Beatles songs are:
Twist And Shout
Hold Me Tight
With A Little Help From My Friends
I've Just Seen A Face
Help!
Somthing
Happiness Is A Warm Gun
Lovely Rita
Hide You're Love Away
And basically anything on Help!, Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band, or Magical Mystery Tour.
Oh, I love the Beatles. It really is to bad they broke up.
On a slightly unrelated note, I know I haven't posted any stories for like a month. But I'm working on a fic that's a little longer(I'm about half dond and it's four pages on Microsoft Word), so I'll have that up by tomorrow night.
Rock on, eat your veggies, listen to groovadelical music, and despite what Madisen says, DON'T DO DRUGS.
-Natacat

TRUE!!!!! Scary Story

2009-10-23T14:36:00.000-07:00

This is true. It happened to my cousin's friend's mom. Creeepy.(Names and details are made up)
As I'm sure you've guessed, this will be told in story form, as that is how I always prefer to write.

*clears throat*

There were five thirteen-year-old friends, Christy, Beth, Marielle, Annie, and Raina. These five girls lived in a small and boring town. One Saturday night in October, they were having a sleepover at Annie's house. They were terribly bored.
"We should sneak out," Beth suggested randomly.
"No, we'll get in trouble," Good-girl Annie protested.
"C'mon, there's nothing better to do! Let's just go."
Annie shrugged. "Whatever. I'll get a flashlight."
Beth clapped her hands ecstatically and the five friends got ready.
"Were are we going?" Christy asked.
"To the big old haunted house around the corner," Marielle decided.
"Cool," Raina agreed. The girls walked along the cold, dark road for five minutes until they got to the house.
"M-maybe we should go back to my house," Annie suggested, suddenly fearful.
"No, let's go in. I'll go first!" Beth declaired. She handed the flashlight to Christy and matter-of-factly marched through the old door.
Five minutes later, the four remaining girls still stood outside the door. Beth still hadn't emerged.
"I'll go next," Raina said. "If I don't come back in five minutes, come in after me." With that she strode through the door confideltly.
Five minutes later, Raina was nowere to be seen. "My turn," Christy said as she, to, walked through the door.
Five minutes later, Marielle went through the door. She didn't come back out.
I'm NOT going in there, Annie thought to herself. She walked around the old house and found her four best friends in the backyard, giggling like mad. They had gone through the house and out the back door.
"Ha ha, very funny," Annie said sarcastically.
The five of them walked back to Annie's house and watched a movie before falling asleep.

But five years later, at age eighteen, Beth died in a car accident.
Five years after Beth's demise, at age twenty-three, Raina died of skin cancer.
Five years after Raina's untimely death, at age twenty-seven, Christy was found murdered in the streets of New York.
Five years after Christy was found, at age thirty-three, Marielle died of food poisening.

The only one alive today is Annie, the only one who didn't go in to the house that October night when they were thirteen.

If you have any true scary stories like this one, post them on your blog and give me a link via comment box! Or, if you don't have a blog, email them to me at nata1098@hotmail.com!

Future Domrancy

2009-10-22T21:31:00.000-07:00

Dear friends and gits of the world,

Unfortunately, this blog will lay untouched and unscathed by this writer for about a while. I'll still post somtimes, but I have a deadline to work to. I have six typed pages of a story that needs to be complete by December 24th at the latest. When the story is done, I'll create a new blog on my same Blogger account to post it so all you friends and gits out there can havalooksee. I'm quite proud of this story and fancy finishing it, so my writing time will be invested in that.

Thanks and I lerve yeh all.
-Natacat

P.S., I just realized that you can't even see a fic on the startpage. That's to bad. I'm kind of mad at myself now. Maybe I'll repost somthing so I don't look like a total gitface who can't even avidly write fics for her own blog. I'm pathetic.

Awesome Widget!!

2009-10-22T19:40:00.001-07:00

Blogger is reeeeeeeeally creeping me out

2009-10-21T16:41:00.000-07:00

So one of my readers, Half Blood Princess, sent me an email. It was kind of cool, hearing from somebody who actually likes my blog. But then Blogger changed my email adress that I see in the top right-hand corner to HER email. If you see it, halfbloodprincess1099@gmail.com, DON'T try to contact me there. That IS NOT my email. I think Blogger did that because it is the only Gmail adress in my Hotmail contacts. And Blogger has a thing for Google. So it's kind of creepy. Anyway, I'd love for you to contact me at nata1098@hotmail.com, which has always been my Email and always will be. Thanks.

-Natacat

This is from my profile. RANDOM QUESTAIN. I quite like it.

2009-10-18T16:29:00.001-07:00

The children are waiting! Please tell them the story about the bald frog with the wig:

There once was a frog, named Filliburt, or Fill for short. Fill was, as ost frogs are, bald. Fill desprately wanted to be different then the rest of the frogs, so he bought a wig. He put it on and immediately got a girlfriend. They lived happily ever after. And the moral of the story is, DON'T DO DRUGS!

Okay....Let's see if this works.

2009-10-18T11:17:00.000-07:00

See that cute little button? This lets me see how many people are viewing my blog at present. Check it by typing 'how many views' into the 'search this blog' bar.

On a completely unrelated note, this is my 30th post!!!! *applause*

Anyway. Keep on rockin'.
-Natacat is not a cat and muct not be confused with one

Song Analysis Two: Don't Stop Believing

2009-10-17T19:54:00.000-07:00

Okaaay...So I know I said to expect another one soon. Didn't think I'd mean THAT soon, but I'm bored. The other thing I can do is finishing cleaning my super-messy room. I don't think that's an option. So here yeh are, Don't Stop Believing by Journey. Grooveshark it.

*clears throat again*

Just a small town girl, livin' in a lonely world

Implying 'she' kept to herself. Hence lonely(Also hence I'm the Queen Of Obvious)

She took the midnight train going anywere

Implying she likes to ride trains in the dark, regardless as to were they are headed.

Just a city boy, born and raised in south Detroit

Wait, now we're talking about a BOY? Hmmmm. Inconsistent? I think so.

He took the midnight train going anywere

So both 'she' and 'he' like to ride trains in the dark despite the fact that they go different places ever time.

A singer in a smokey room, smells of wine and cheap perfume

What? First 'she', then 'he', now there's also a SINGER??? Come. On.

For a smile they can share a night
it goes on and on and on and on

Now there's also 'they'. Whatever. Anyone else? Come join the party. This song'll take anyone.

Workin' hard to get my fill, everybody wants a thrill

So now the narrarator is someody to. Waydago, Steve.

You know what? This song is becoming to random for me to dissect. Albeit, I'm bad at choosing things. But DSMN was okay, right???

Oh, well. Maybe I'll try again tomorrow. It's Sunday. I still have one day of weekend left...

Song Analysis 1: Don't Stop Me Now

2009-10-17T19:38:00.000-07:00

I though I might take my love for oldies music to a new level. Like, write down the dissections I conjure up in my head. On this day October 17, 2009, the song of choice is by the band that first opened my eyes to music that isn't Kelly Clarkson, Queen, entitled 'Don't Stop Me Now'.

*Clears throat*

Tonight, I'm gonna have myself...A real good time...

Implying he's had a crappy time before. Like, I deserve to have fun after the hard day at word I've had.

I feel ali-i-i-iiive

Implying he felt dead before. But now he feels alive.(I think I'm going to make up yet another nickname for myself: Queen Of The Obvious.)

And the world is turnin' inside out, yeah

Implying the world seems to be different today then it was, say, yesterday.

I'm floatin' around in ecstasy

Either he's literally floating in a pool of ecstasy, or he's really really happy.

So don't stop me now

I can tell sombody doesn't fancy leaving.

'Cause I'm having a good time, having a good time!

He's having sooo much fun he has to say it twice. It's quintessential.

I'm a shootin' strar, leepin' through the sky, like a tiger

He feels so energetic like a shooting star, but the simile 'like a tiger' doesn't seem fitting in the vast tundra that is my mind.(Whic is usually filled with about three songs that happen to be stuck there, along with writing ideas and random thoughts. Oh and looooooots of critiqueing. I'm veeeeeeery judgemental.)

Defying the laws of gravity

Again, not fitting. Random.

And the song basically goes on like that. Random. Energetic. A la Freddie Mercury.

Expect another addition of

SONG

ANALYSIS! *whoooosh*

Soon.

Hold Me Tight

2009-10-11T21:34:00.000-07:00

Like always, this shall be told in story format.

Two days ago, I was bored. So I opened my HP laptop and pulled up Bing search engine. I type in 'The Beatles fanfic'. I get lots of results. I click on the third one down, because it's titled after my favorite Beatles song(Hold Me Tight). I get a page, http://www.freewebs.com/beccaeckabeatlesfic/. Hmmm, I think to myself. A Beatles fic. So I start reading it.
And before I know it, it's OMG I LOVE THIS SO SO SO SO SO SO MUCH!!!!!!!!!!! And I'm mediately hooked. See, it's this chick named Becca who writes about a girl named Becca who runs in to Ringo Starr, AKA Ritchard Starkey. The story is amazing. I love The Beatles and this fic is more then anything I've ever read on terms of awesomeness. OMG IT IS SO AWESOME. A great read for those who believe they've hit rock-bottom. I lerve it.It's just like, whoa. Amazing. The definition of ROCKADELIC. For any questains or fun facts about the Beatles, BTW, email me at nata1098@hotmail.com, or click the Email link on my profile.

Please read it. It is the best thing ever.

We love you Richard!!!

The Death Conspiricy Of One Paul McCartney

2009-10-07T20:44:00.000-07:00

So, as I'm sure you've infered by reading my previous posts, my two obsessions are Harry Potter and The Beatles. Both obsessions are not only mine but also my darling cousin Madisen's. usually, I write Harry Potter fics. But today, I thought I'd explore my other love with all of my readers(Just Madisen and the mysterious Half Blood Princess, then).

It is beleived that Paul McCartney died. In 1966.

(I'm going to write this like I believe in this crap)

Paul McCartney, singer/bassist of The Beatles, died in 1966 in a car accident. The Beatles were at the height of their fame and their manager thought it best to keep Sir Paul's death a secret. So he hired a lookalike, Billy Sheers(Refered to in Sgt. Pepper).
The other three Beatles, however, weren't pleased. They missed Paul and did not appriciate this untalented wannabe replacing him. They felt it was their duty to honor Paul correctly. So they added these secret lines into their songs, hoping somebody would figure it out and expose it:

-Paul is a dead man, miss him, miss him, miss him(Revolution9)[That is a creepy song. You could find anything in it.]
-I buried Paul(Strawberry Fields Forever)
-Dead dead dead man(Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds, backwards)
-Took her home and nearly made it(Lovely Rita, implying he died giving somebody a ride in his car)
-He didn't notice that the (traffic) light had changed(A Day In The Life)
-Service at a villa(I Am The Walrus)
-Paul, Paul, Paul, Paul, Paul, Paul(George Harrison says this)(While My Guitar Gently Weeps)[I think it says Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh]
-You were in a car crash(Don't Pass Me By)
-After Paul, Paul, Paul, ect. in WMGGW, we hear Paul's voice: Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah...
-(Car noises)LET ME OUT!!!(Revolution 9 backwards)[again, you can find anything in this creepy song.]
-If you think the band is not quite right, you're correct, there's nobody there(Only A Northern Song), Paul played bass. The band wouldn't sound right ifit had no bass.
Evidence in their album covers:

-Red backround/looking forward on Let It Be
-Barefoot in Abby Road
-Lincense plate in Abby Road says '28-IF', implying he would be 28 IF he'd survived
-After '66, he had a scar on his lip. 'minor difference' between the real Paul and the new one
-Looks propped up in Sgt Pepper
-In Sgt Pepper, the wax Beatles look sad and expressionless(HELLO?? They are not alive, therefore expressionless!!!)
-Out of step with John, George, and Ringo in Abby Road
-Raised hand above his head in Sgt Pepper imply he's marked
-The Fool On The Hill---Paul's dead body was found on a hill
-(In lyric book) Paul is shown with a crack in his head in Magical ystery Tour
-

So there you have it. Paul died in 1966.

Just kidding!

The hoax was real, of course. People still believe in it(idiots). But Sir Paul McCartney is really alive.

Bibliography:

http://www.paulisdeadhoax.com/index.php/the-beatles-white-ablum/

http://depletedcranium.com/?p=434

wikepedia, search 'paul is dead hoax'

Lemme just say this: I love the Beatles very much. THIS IS NOT TRUE. None of these 'clues' are legit. Paul is alive. These are all FAKE. End of story.

Wait.

The truth...

Paul was in a car crash. He got a scar on his upper lip from it. But that's all. He grew a mustsache after because he didn't like how his scar looked. SO THERE, CONSPERICY THEROEY FREAKS.
We love you Paul!!
In fact, Paul said the following on the theroey:

"I won't spoil this fantasy in the minds of the believers, but I will say that I am living in Scotland and very much alive."

So. Paul McCartney. Not dead.

Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds

2009-10-01T22:23:00.000-07:00

Okay...Let's get a few things straight here.

The song 'Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds', by the Beatles, has NOTHING to do with the hippie drug LSD. I'll tell this in story format, if you don't mind, as that is how words naturally come in my mind. Though just so you know, I have no idea how it happened. But I imagine it went a little somthing like this...

*clears throat*
One day, four-year-old Julian Lennon comes home, proudly brandishing a drawing. He runs up to his father, John, to show him the picture.

"Look, daddy, I drew Lucy!"

Lucy, as John knew, was the girl of Julian's fancy. The drawing was blue, like the sky, with diamonds surronding a girl. Lucy.
Nobody knew what gave little Julian the idea, but, the drawing was surprisingly skillfull for a four year old.
"Julian, what's this?" John asked his son curiously.
Julian explained what the drawing depicted.
Hmmm, thought John. Lucy in the sky with diamonds.
Then, a tune, along with an idea, hit him.
"Julian, you don't mind if I write a song about your picture, do you?"
Julian's face lit up. He loved being the center in songs for his dad's band, The Beatles. "Sure!"
John smiled. "Lovely."

Then he went off to phone Paul and tell him about the idea. Paul agreed, it was an exellent one.

Thus, the song 'Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds' was born.

See? In reality, it wasn't a sick song about how you feel on LSD, but a cute, harmless song about a drawing by an innocent preschooler.

But the suckish part was that Lucy was mad about the song, as it did sound like LSD. She was never friends with Julian Lennon again. But, just a few years ago, I beleive in 2007, Julian found out Lucy had cancer. So he got back in touch with her and they made up. But just a few days ago, Lucy died. Poor Julian.

So, Julian, if you're reading this(which I highly doubt), then I thank you for making that picture that inspired the great song, and I'm sorry about your loss. That is all.

I just wanted to set some people's minds straight. It's sickening what the public makes up. And I'm sure John Lennon was rather annoyed when he heard the rumor. After all, it was just a picture.

Lavender Brown And Her Mad Crush

2009-09-23T15:46:00.000-07:00

He's just so adorable.
The way he smiles, the way he laughs, it just gets Lavender into a fit of untamed giggles every time she sees his red haired head.
She doesn't fathom why that foul git of a Slytherin makes fun of him so much. That sad excuse for a wizard just keeps tormenting him, so his adorable mouth curves downward. It makes Lavender sad just to watch from a distance. But she's to nervous to actually go talk to him.
"Just go and ask him what the Transfiguration homework is or somthing," Parvati Patil urged her on night in the common room, following Lavender's gave.
"No! He knows as well as you do that if I forgot the homework, I'd ask you."
"Just go. He'll take the hint and flirt with you some more."
Lavender got up and scoweled at her friend.
"Fine."
She walked as slowley as possible to him. As always, he was with that terrible Granger girl and Harry Potter.
"Ummm...Ron?"
Ron looked up from the chess board on the table in front of him and Harry.
"Mmmm?"
"Ummm...What was the...um...Transfiguration homework?" Lavender asked him timidly.
"I dunno. Hermione?" He looked over at Granger.
"We're to write an essay about the use of transfiguring humans into animals and the dangers of it," Hermione said matter-of-factly.
"Oh." Lavender felt her face turing red. "Th-thanks."
She turned on her heel and walked away.
"Well?" Parvati asked when she got back.
"Didn't work. I'm going to bed." Lavender mumbled.
"G'night."

The next day, Lavender woke up ready to try again.

She went up to him at breakfast.
"I just wanted to tell you that I...I...Isawyourtryoutsforkeeperandthoughtyoudidreallywell, alotbetterthentheoldoneandIjustwantedtoletyouknow..." Lavender stopped for air. "That...You...You're a really good keeper."
Ron looked taken aback. "Uh...Thanks, Lavender,"
Lavender blushed and started to walk away, but caught the next few words of their conversation.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" She heard Ron's lazy voice ask.
"Never mind. You're to arrogant," the annoyingly smart voice of Granger replied.
"She fancies you, mate," Potter said.
"No, she just wanted to tell my I'm an okay Keeper!" Ron argued.
"You can be really thick, Ron. She obviously fancies you."
"No, she doesn't!"
Lavender felt her heart sink. He obviously didn't feel the same way about her.
She got back to her spot by Parvati.
"So...How'd it go?"
"He doesn't like me." Lavender sulked.
"You don't know that," Parvati said reassuringly.
"No. I do. He was talking to Granger and Potter and Granger could tell I fancy him, but he was denying it."
Parvati put her fork down. "That could mean he likes you but is surprised that you'll talk to him."
Lavender shook her head, no.
"That's not the way it works."
"He might like you. Don't be a git."
Lavender shook her head and went back to the commons.

Lavender hardly talked to anyone other then Parvati because she was so dissapointed.
That is, until she finally got together with Ron.

******

I must say, that was extrememly pointless and a waste of time.

The Aftermath Of A Terrible War(Rated TD for terribly depressing)

2009-09-19T22:30:00.000-07:00

What a sight it was. If an onlooker were to suddenly walk by the group of them, they'd have most certainly guess why all those people had gathered around the shiny black casket, but why all of them were in such a state as they were would be a mystery.

Hermione was crying profusely, Ron's arms around her. He was crying to, though silently.
Mr. and Mrs. Weasly were also crying in eachother's arms, with their second-eldest son, Charlie, next to them. Their third-eldest son, Percy, was next to Charlie, looking incredibly mournful. Nexe to Percy was George, who looked shattered and confused, let alone devestated. By George was Bill, his mangled face looking even more torn then usual. His arm was around his wife, Fleur, sitting next to him. Fleur had her face in her hands, crying. In front of Bill and Fleur, Ron and Hermione sat.
Next to Ron, his best friend since age eleven was sitting, looking terribly depressed. On the other side of Harry was Ginny, crying very hard into his shoulder, clinging to his right arm. He was clinging to her as well.
Everyone was extremely depressed at the funeral, though nobody was actually talking. Most funerals include guests who never even met the person who was now lying dead in a casket, though this one had none. At this funeral, no eye was tearless.
After the service, Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione would walk away from everybody else, arm in arm. All of them would be crying. Especially Ron and Ginny, for they had lost a brother.
"Fred always made funerals less horrible," Ron said as the four of them sat down on a patch of grass.
"He would," Ginny said, closing her eyes as if in surrender to her sadness.
"He could always make a sad situation better," Harry said, at a loss for words better then these.
Hermione said nothing, but cried more freely, burying her face in Ron's shoulder.
"He was-" Ginny's voice broke and she, to, burried her face in her boyfriend's shoulder. Harry put a conforting arm around her. He was thinking of Fred; of the horrible way in wich he had died. Harry knew that Fred would have prefered to live a full, happy life, but he'd have been proud to die for other people's freedom.
Harry wanted to say somthing to sum up just how amazing Fred had been in his short life of only twenty-one years. But that would have been impossible.
"We should pull ourselves together and go find George," Hermione said through teary eyes.
Everyone nodded, wiping their eyes and clearing their throats. They got up and walked back to the main group of people. They found George, still sitting in his chair, his face hidden by his ginger hair.
When he heard the four sets of footsteps, he looked up and tried to smile, but only managing to slightly twitch the left corner of his mouth. Ginny broke away from Harry and put her arms around him, hugging him tightly.
"At least......At least.....Fred.......He would've...." George stammered. Harry, Hermione, Ginny and Ron knew he was trying to keep high spirits and say somthing funny, but he was at a loss for jokes for the first time in his life. He put his hand on the side of his head were his left ear should've been.
George was silently recalling the time it had been blown off, and Fred's face while he was just regaining conciousness. It had been of sheer terror, as his face probably looked now.
George truely felt as if half of him was missing. He was never far from his twin, but now he'd never be able to laugh or joke with Fred ever again. Fred was gone.
Harry, on the other hand, had experienced this feeling five times before this: for Cedric, Sirius, Dumbledore, Remus, and Tonks. And he knew he'd experience it at least once more, for he had another funeral to attend in a month, that of Severus Snape.
Harry had mixed feelings about Snape's death. On one hand, Snape was always cruel to Harry. On another hand, Snape was genuinelly good and only killed the former headmaster of Hogwarts because they'd planned it together. On yet another hand of this metophorical deformed person, if Snape'd stayed alive, there would be trouble with the Ministry of Magic, tiresome trouble Snape would have prefered to avoid.
But maybe if Snape had survived, he wouldn't have proven himself forever loyal to Dumbledore?
The subject of death, in Harry's mind, seemed to hold countless questains he would rather not ask, nor find out the answer of.
"You okay?" Harry asked George, clasping his shoulder.
"I will be."

As the late Albus Dumbledore had once said, do not pity the dead. Pity the living.

HARRY POTTER LAND!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

2009-09-18T21:25:00.000-07:00

Merlin!!!!!!!!! There's going to be a HARRY POTTER LAND!!!!!!!!!!!!! EEEEEEEEEEEKKK!!!! I'm really exited, if you can't tell. It's with Uneversal Studios, in Orlando, Florida. There's going to be Hogwarts, Diagon Alley, and Hogsmeade. It'll open in spring, 2010. Tom Felton(AKA Draco Malfoy) will be at the opening!!!

The above picture is of the Hogwarts castle they're putting there. How perfectly marvalous!!!!!! I'm so exited I could jump for joy. Me and Madisen(4everundead.blogspot.com) want to go there together. Go to the link at the bottom of this post for more info. EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!!!!!!! Yay!! Actually, now that I think about it, this is kind of ironic, because the other day, I was like, they should make a Harry Potter land. And then, we were at a store and I was talking about naming a whole bunch of orange cats Fred, George, Ginny, Ron, Percy, Bill, and Charlie, and the store girl was like, they're making a Harry Potter land, and I was like, OMG!!!!!!!!!!! So, I figured since ginnyinthesky is all about Harry Potter fics, that I'd share with you, whoever you are. Ciao.

Chapter 5 of Madisen's fic, Mindlelss Ranting

2009-09-13T16:09:00.000-07:00

This takes place roughly a week after the last chapter.

I rake my brain for the hunderedth time since they left. What are they looking for?
The squeaky voice of Professor Flitwick pulls me out of my thoughts. "Miss Weasly! What have I just said?"

Crud. I wasn't listening. "Um...Somthing about using nonverbal spells?" I ask hopefully.

"Well...Er...Yes, but that's beside the point-" He said, defeated. I go back to my thoughts. I just want to help Harry, Hermione and my brother in their search for whatever secret thing they're looking for. I wish they had just told me. It's beating me up from the inside that I can't help them. I'm not of age yet, though, so Mum won't let me. Even though I'll be seventeen in less then five months. Flitwick told us about our homework, and I jotted down a few words about it. I only do my schoolwork so I can be an auror when I graduate. But I yearn to be there, helping them. I know I could be of use. If they'd only let me in on their secret, that is.

The bell rang, dissmissing us from class. I walked, lost in thoughts about Harry and how much I need to see him.

"Ginny?" Luna Lovegood asked me. "What's wrong now?"

I look at her. I didn't even realize she'd fallen into step with me. I was going to double Herbology with the Ravenclaws, which means I get to chat with Luna undesturbed while we water and clip our plants.

"I just want to help them," I say simply, closing the subject.

Luna understands. She wants to help them to, so does Neville. We've been trying to figure out what they're looking for for ages, meeting in the Room Of Requirement and practicing D.A. sorts of things, because the Defense Against The Dark Arts teacher has turned the class into the Dark Arts, teaching us to use spells like the Cruciatus curse. The teacher is a death eater. The school seems full of them. The only good teachers are Slughorn, Flitwick, McGonagall, Hagrid, and Sprout. The rest, as far as I know, are either deatheaters or staying out of all this Order Of The Pheonix/Deatheater stuff.

I just wish they'd tell us what their quest is about so we can help them.

******

"Harry, I just think I should go and pretend to be Bellatrix! We have enough potion and I have a few of her hairs-" Hermione pleaded.

"No." I'm sure they're expecting Hermione to go to the Malfoy Manor, and we have to keep them guessing. We can't be obvious.

"But I need to smooth things over!" She shouted at me in exasperation. "Bellatrix will be wondering were her key went! I have to return it and pretend she lost it so as to elliminate suspicion!"

Ron comes through the tent flap. "What's all this yelling?" He askes, sitting down at the table.

"Hermione wants to go to the Malfoy's, disguise herself as Bellatris Lestrange, return the key, smooth things over, and Apparate back." I explain to Ron. He looks like he's about to crush somthing.

"No, Hermione." He says firmly. "You can't."

"Besides," I add. "That key doesn't seem like somthing she'd want to lose, given what's in her vault."

"She had it in plain sight, almost, though, Harry," Ron points out.

"That may be to be obtuse, so nobody suspects somthing important in in her vault," I say, trying not to sound like I'm contredicting him.

"But Harry, you only have gold in your vault, but do you leave your key just laying around?" Ron asked me. He seemed not to know what he thought on the matter, only that Hermione isn't allowed to go.

"Well, no, but I don't hide it either," I retort.

"Maybe you should," Hermione scowls at Ron.

"But if he did, we'd forget were he put it," Ron spat.

"But we're lucky Bellatrix didn't," I hazard.

"Maybe we're not." Ron says loudly.

"Maybe we shouldn't have tried to find these horcruxes in the first place!" Hermione cried furiously.

"Well, we don't want You-Know-Who to win, do we?" I put in, trying to end the argument that was getting pointless and random.

"Well, if we just give up and go into hiding, then the war might end!" Ron says, clenching his fists.

"If we give up, though, we'll definately never win!" Hermione yells at Ron. "We're the only living ones who know about the horcruxes!"

"If you keep screaming at me, the tent will shatter!" Ron yells back at her. I silently decide to just stay out of it.

"You're so naive!" Hermione screams back. "Tents don't shatter!"

"You're just a bloody know-it-all!" He spits at her.

"It's not my fault you never learned anything in your six years at Hogwarts!" She shouts back.

"It's not my fault you won't shut up for once in your bloody life!" Ron roars.

"I'm tired of your antics!" Hermione screams.

"I'm tired of the way we live!"

"Are you trying to contridict me?" Hermione demands.

"Are you trying to shatter the bloody tent?" Ron catchezies her.

"Tents don't shatter!" Hermione yells again.

"Tents do what they want, unlike me!"

"What! You never listen to me!"

"What! I always do! You never let me do anything brave!"

"That is not true, Ronald!"

"That is true!"

"Harry always takes my concepts into consideration!" Hermione screams even louder.

"Harry always gets to do everything!"

"No he doesn't!"

"No I'm the one who doesn't!" Ron shouts fiercely.

"I don't think so!"

"I think you've gone mental!"

"Mental? What is wrong with you!"

"Mental is what's wrong with you! There's nothing wrong with me!"

"Yes! That's exactly what I mean! You never listen to me!"

"Yes? What d'you mean, bloody yes?

"You just don't listen!" Hermione yells, hotly.

"You never shut up, so it's hard to constantly keep my ears open!"

"Ears can't close!"

"Ears will do what they bloody want!"

"Is that the best you can do?"

"Is that the loudest you can yell?"

"You want me to yell louder?"

"You want the tent to shatter?"

"Again with the shattering tents! Tents! Do not! Shatter!"

"Again with the constant correcting!" Ron sounds exuberent.

"Why do you keep copying me!"

"Why do you keep asking me pointless questains!"

"He doesn't want to hear this!"

"He? Who is 'he'?"

"Harry!"

"Harry is tired of this!" I yell over their arguing, trying to end it.

They both go silent. Ron's whole body is shaking, and Hermione's face is red with fury.

"You need to stop arguing," I say, my voice sounding quiet compared to their boisterous ranting.

"What?" Ron asks, his voice horse from screaming at Hermione.

"We weren't arguing." Hermione says hotly.

"I think you were. You need to apoligize to eachother.

"Hermione is the only one who needs to apologize." Ron says, turning his head so he's no longer looking at her.

"No, Ronald, you're the guilty one." Hermione, unfortunately, is just as reluctent to apoligize.

"You both need to say you're sorry. Go on," I advise, trying to steer away from another loud argument.

"I'm sorry." Hermione says, still with a hint of anger in her voice.

"Me to." Ron says, mostly calm.

"Good. Now let's settle things. Hermione, you aren't going to the Malfoy's. You can wait for a few weeks."

She looked exasperated, then rolls her eyes. "Fine."

"And Ron; you need to let Hermione do some things. She can be of use." I try to sound firm, but I'm worried about her to. She's like a sister to me, but I recognize that she might not be able to accomplish some things. Sure, she's the smartest person I know, but she's different from Ron and me.

"Fine." Ron copies.

I nod. "Good. Now you two separate." I step away from were I was leaning on the table. "I'm going to bed."

All The Madmen

2009-09-09T00:27:00.000-07:00

Okay, so here's the scoop: This fic isn't about a Harry Potter character. Well, one is in it, but the protagonist has no idea what magic even is. And they don't get why things happen when the antagonist waves a stick and gibbergabs. I know, wierd for me. But I thought I'd differ, y'know, try to be more creative. But baby steps are key, honeymuffin. Oh, and the story is entitled 'All The Madmen', though there is only one. I did this because there is a David Bowie song called All The Madmen. Anyway. 'Kay, here goes......

I'm sitting in a bowl of pudding. How wierd. With...my cat? Hmmm. An odd dream.
BANG!!
I'm woken up from my drem when I hear a very loud crash. I wonder what that was, I think vaugely. I sit up in my bed and blink a few times, wiping the sleep from my soft brown eyes.
I bet the cat managed to break somthing again. I should probably go clean that up.
In the morning.
I lay back down and close my eyes. I'm at the odd stage of falling asleep when you're aware of everything around you but your eyes feel as if they're glued shut, when I hear another loud noise. I grudgingly get up from my bed and step out the door, yawning. I go downstairs and in to the kitchen, where the cat usually knocks things over.
When I step over the threshold of the kitchen doorway, I'm emmidiately stabbed with fear and disquitude. There's a man standing by the sink.
And not just any man; this one bore a deep forest green cape-thing. His left arm was out, fiddling with the knobs on the sink, and I noticed a rather odd tatoo on his wrist: A skull entwined with a snake. I shriek in incredulity.
As if startled by my sudden ruckus, he looks over at me. A smile works its way onto his dry mouth.
"Hello, Muggle," He says maniaclly.
Muggle? What the heck is a 'muggle'?
"W-w-" I mean to say what, but I'm so disgruntled I can't get anything else out.
The man chuckles.
"I'll kill you," He says to me, as if it was somthing he'd been pondering.
Kill? Kill me? Why? What did I do?
"Wh-why?" I manage to stutter.
"I need amusment. The Dark Lord hasn't given me any tasks for a long time. The last was using the cruciatus on a witch who knew somthing we didn't."
Krooshiatus curse? Witch? What? This man is using words that aren't even words at all.
I stepped back, my knees vacillating and hands spastically shaking.
The abstruse, atypical man chuckles agin.
I finally process the word that's been flowing through my jumbled mind since I saw the madman: RUN.
So I do.
I run up to my room, throw myself into the closet, and lock the door. I sink to the floor, bumping into a pair of rubber rain boots. I am inept at processing thoughts. Why is this guy wanting to kill me? What does 'krooshiatus' mean? And witches aren't real! Nor are curses! And who is this 'Dark Lord'?
I squeeze my eyes shut. I hear footsteps, a POP! and then a chuckle.
"Dim Muggle, you really think a locked door will discourage me?"
He paused, waiting for a response.
"Oh, well then. That's how you want to play it. Alohamora."
The door flew open.
How did he do that? All he did was wave a stick and say a nonsense word.
Wait. Witch. Wand. Gibberish. Magic.
He must be a........I can't beleive I'm even thinking this.......Wizard?
But wizards are not real.
"Avada Kedavera,"

Chapter 4 of Madisen's fic in Ron's point of view.

2009-08-30T16:33:00.000-07:00

Harry is still in the shower. I think he's mad about useing the Cruciatus curse. I've told him a million times, she's a deatheater. But he just shakes his head and doesn't say anything. It's worrying Hermione a lot. And I'm worried to. He hasn't eaten since he came back from the Malfoy Manor two nights ago. Harry used the Cruciatus curse on Draco Malfoy's girlfriend. We don't know her name, but we're on the lookout for her, according to the description Harry gave us.
"Ron!" Hermione said to me. "You've been stirring that pot for nearly ten minutes!" Oh, right. It's my turn to make dinner, and I'm making potatoe soup. Which you don't need to stir much. I put the spoon down and go join Hermione at the kitchen table of our tent. She's pouring over a book about horcruxes she Summoned from Dumbledore's office on our last day of our sixth year. That book has to have at least nine hundered pages. "Anything there worth reading?" I ask her.
"Not yet," She replies. "This book is awful! They tell you in detail how to make a horcrux. It's discusting." I smile. "Dinner's almost ready. Can you give it a stir and put it in bowls so I can go get Harry?" Hermione nods and I get up and head towards the bathroom. "HARRY! DINNER'S READY!" I call, knocking on the bathroom door. "NOT HUNGERY!" He calls back. "EAT WITHOUT ME!" "I'M TELLING HERMIONE!" I call back, smirking. I walk back to the kitchen and tell Hermione as promised. She sighs. "I'll go talk to him." She closes her book and gets up. I put the bowls of soup on the table and add spoons and napkins. At last thought, I put out some bread and butter. Hermione comes back, smiling smugly. "I told him if he didn't come to dinner, we'd make him look for horcruxs alone and go back to school. Even though he knows we'd never ditch him, he still agreed to come." She sat down by me and we started eating, not bothering to be polite and wait. Harry came out a few minutes later, fully dressed but with dripping hair and wrinkley fingers. He sat down and ate, but didn't say a word all through dinner, and dessert(ice cream Harry had bought at a Muggle store last week). He went to bed early. Hermione picked up her thick book and started reading again. I took a short shower. Then I went to sit outside our tent and watch for deatheaters. I'm just glad we already destroyed the locket, I thought to myself. If we hadn't, I'd have to wear it tonight. Oh, crud. We still have to get Hufflepuff's cup, which Malfoy probably has or knows were to find. Crud crud crud crud crud. 'You have to go.', a little voice in the back of my mind said. 'Not Hermione, not Harry, you, Ronald. Go.' I stood up. Maybe I should go. Then I can find the cup and maybe find out more about this pink haired girl Malfoy is so keen on keeping safe. I go inside. Hermione is still sitting on the kitchen chair, reading intently. "Hermione, I'm going." I say in a way that means 'don't argue; there's no point'. She puts her book down and sighs. "Are you sure that you should? We musn't be obvious, you know. They're expecting us to come back and try to get the horcrux soon, I'm certain. Maybe we should try to look for another one and get the cup last." "But by then, they might realise what we were looking for and pass it along to someone else," I argue. She always has to look at the safe side of things, but sometimes, the dangerous way is better. Like now. "Ron! No! You can't just go three days after Harry and expect to surprise them!" She scolded. "I'm going." I look at her Muggle wristwatch for the time. It's almost nine. "I'm going in about an hour and a half, so they aren't all there. They'll be mostly going out in the dark, I'd bet you." She looked thoughtful. "Ron, remember our second year at school...?" She asked, her eyes focused on a flask of somthing on the counter, "When we....?" She looked unfathomably distracted. "You can tell me your brilliant plan any day now," I said, annoyed. "Right. Sorry. Polyjuice Potion," She explained. "You want me to disguise myself as a deatheater, go to Malfoy's, and just, what, nonchalontly ask Malfoy or someone were the cup is? Like any of them will reveal their master's most valuable secret to any random deatheater," I said sarcastically. "Yes," Hermione said simply. "Enlighten me," I told her with sarcastic encouragment. She pretended my request was genuine. "Well, you'll be Malfoy or someone, and bring the subject up. We have a lot of Polyjuice Potion, so, if you excuse yourself every fifty minutes to the bathroom, you'll be able to take the potion easily and well before the hour is up. Just make sure to act like the person you transform into." She was reffering to the time in our second year when I didn't act enough like Crabbe, and Malfoy got suspicious. "Fine. But your lovely plan is missing one thing. How am I supposed to get Malfoy's hair or whatever without him noticing?" Her face fell. "Oh. I suppose you're right." She looked thoughtful, then her face lit up again. "I have some in a vial!" She said, ecstatically. I frown. "You keep Malfoy DNA in a vial?" She looks at me annoyedly. "Yes, for times like this, idiot." She leads me over to a capinet. She opens it. Inside are loads of vials containing a few hairs each, with labels like MALFOY, FRED/GEORGE, HARRY, RON, REMUS, BELLARIX, HERMIONE, MINISTRY WITCH , MINISTRY WIZARD 1, MINISTRY WIZARD 2, ROSMERTA, MUGGLE 1, MUGGLE 2, MUGGLE 3, and MUGGLE 4. "Hermione! Were did you get those?" I ask, pointing to the BELLATRIX and MALFOY vials. "Don't ask me that." Her face contorted in self-loathe. "And I don't seem to remember you pinching my hair," I point out. "You were asleep." She shrugged. I make a mental note to start sleeping with my eyes open. "Anyway, we have loads of potion. All we need to do is put an undetected enlargement spell on a flask and put enough doses in it. And mind you be careful and only take a gobletful." She narrowed her eyes. "Right, of course, yeah, let's go." She nodds and grabs a flask. She puts the spell on a flask, then fills it with clear potion. Then she sets up a calderon and ingrediants to start making some more, for later. I grabb the vial of Malfoy'd hair, but she stops me. "Ron, just go to his house and get some of him hair. We should save this." I rolled my eyes. "Fine. I'll borrow Harry's Invisibility Cloak and sneak over to Malfoy's house, and pull his hair out. But then, we're back to how the heck will I get Malfoy's hair without him noticing?" I look at her questainingly. "Oh. Yeah. Uhm..." She squeezed her eyes shut and thinks hard foor a moment. "Fine. Take one of these for the first dose, but get some of Malfoy's for the rest and bring some back to restore my vial." "Okay." Hermione was undesiseve tonight. She usually knew her plan at first try. "Hermione, is somthing wrong?" I ask. "You don't seem yourself." She looks down, avoiding my face. "Yeah, there's somthing wrong." She mumbles. "What is it?" I ask, pushing a strand of bushy brown hair away from her brown eyes. "Nothing." She says, still mumbleing. Unlike Hermione to mumble. "No, what's the matter?" She looks up at me, looking close to tears. "Harry was in a tight situation there, Ron. He could've been unable to Apparate and Snape and Malfoy's father could have had their way with him. Somehow, it doesn't matter as much about Harry then it does you. I mean, of course I love Harry, but like a brother. But you..." She broke off and looked down again. "But me...?" I prompted. "Nothing. I'd just be sad if you got hurt to. Just...Forget this ever happened." She closed the book, still laying open on the table, got up from the table. I followed her out of the kitchen, into her room. There are two rooms in the tent: Mine and Harry's room, and her room. "Hermione. Tell me why you are so frightened for my life." "Ron, it's just...I don't know...You...Well...Harry...He's just escaped deatheaters so many times, closely, because he wants to avenge his parents. But you have no one to avenge. So I don't know how well you'd do. That's all. I'm worried." felt a pang of anger at this. "So because my mum and dad are alive, I'm not as tough, as brave, as couragous, as Harry Potter? Just because I don't have a scar on my forehead?" She looked taken aback. "No! You're one of the bravest people I've ever met! But Harry's...Expirenced." "And I'm not?" I retort. "You are, but not as much." She said firmly. "You have different talents and skills and strenghtnesses then Harry." I smirked. I'd been living in the shadow of the famous Harry Potter ever since I was eleven. He's my best mate, but it's rather tiring to always be compared to him. "Like what, dare I ask?" I spat. "You were a prefect, you are an exellent keeper, you can cook, you know when enough danger is enough, and you would never use the Cruciatus on an innocent girl." "Hermione, Harry wouldn't either!" I raged. "He wasn't able to keep a clear head! You know that!" "Yes, that may be, but you musn't forget that he did, even if by accident." She was still calm. "I'm going. I'll get Malfoy imobilized then feed him a sleeping draught. Bye." I left the room, and went to the room I was sharing with Harry. I open the door. Harry's sitting on his bed, in regular clothes, looking deep in thought. "I'm going to the Malfoy Manor. I'll use Polyjuice Potion to look like Malfoy then search the house and find the cup. But I need to borrow your Cloak." I say, looking at him questainingly. "Yeah, okay, fine," He mutters, barely looking up at me. I say my thanks and get the Cloak off the back of a chair. I put it on and left the room. I said goodbye to Hermione, and she looked startled when a dissembodied voice talked to her. I sniggered silenly as I left the tent. I Apparated. After I got squeezed through the metaphorical tube of Apparition, I got out my flask and goblet and vial of hair. I emptied the vial into the flask along with a dose of potion. I waited as it turned from clear to silver to Slytherin green to forrest green. It rested at a dark green color. Essence of Malfoy. Ew. But I drink the whole goblet, and close my eyes as I traansform into the Slytherin I've always loathed. When my body was fully changed, I gave an involentary shudder. Ew. I put the Cloak, flask, and goblet back into my pocket. I take a deep breath and pull out the Maurarder's Map, which I also nicked. "I solemnly swear I am up to no good," I muttered, my wand tip on the piece of old parchment. It swirled to life and I opened it. Crud. I forgot it was only Hogwarts. Not everywere. I pushed Malfoy's white blonde hair out of my eyes and was just about to close the map when I saw somthing rather odd. A figure titled 'PERCY WEASLY' was in McGonagall's office(Which is really Dumbledore's office, but he's dead, so McGonagall is headmistress.). Along with 'RUFUS SCRIMGOUER' and 'LUDO BAGMAN' and 'MINERVA MCGONAGALL'. Scrimgouer and McGonagall, I understand, but my brother and Bagman? That made no sense. Bagman was the Head of the Magical Games And Sports Thing At The Ministry or whatever. And he's an ex-beater for Britan. Maybe he had a Quiddich thing to finalize or whatever. But Percy? Percy hates Bagman, and the Minister himself wouldn't bring such a junior assistant. He'd bring, I dunno, Umbridge or Crouch or someone of their rank. Realising I only had an hour before I need to redose my potion, I clear the map and put it away. I don the Cloak again and go up to the window. Wow, these deatheaters should definately tighten their security and secrecy. The bathroom window's wide open. I climb through and into the hall. I instinctively flatten myself against the wall when Bellatrix passes. Then I remember the Cloak and follow her. She goes up to the attic and knocks on the door. "Draco! Snape and Lucius need you in the downstairs den!" She snapped at the closed door. She left. A few seconds later, Malfoy opens the door to come out. I have my wand at the ready and think 'Petrifucus Totalus', at Malfoy. He's immediately immobalized. I can't let him see me anyway, though, so I feed him the sleeping draught from under Harry's Invisablity Cloak. He immediately dozes off. This is easier then I thought it would be. I set my watch for forty minutes, so I could refresh his imobility and sleep and take more potion. I put the Cloak over him and leave the room, closing the door. I go downstairs to what I think is the den. I shove my wand deep into my pocket so as not to be regognised. "I am here, what is the matter?" I ask calmly. I don't really sound like Malfoy though. Snape looks at me. "Draco, we have gotten Vicarian out of Azkaban, but he needs to be under tight security at present. You will handle it." Crud. How would Malfoy 'handle it'? And who the heck is 'Vicarian'? "Right. Were is he?" I ask calmly. "At the moment, he is in your room downstairs with Madisen." Lucius Malfoy said to me. Madisen. Maybe that's the girlfriend? Maybe Vicarian is her brother? "I'll tend to it." I almost felt as though I should bow to him, but fought the urge. The relasionship was more like servant and master then father and son. I walked down the stairs to the basement, were Lucius indicated. Malfoy sleeps in the basement. Wierd. I check my watch. I have half an hour before I need to go back to the attic, re-Imobilize Malfoy, and take another dose. Sitting on the bed is the girl who must be Madisen(she definately possesed the pink hair) and 'Vicarian', the man just rescued from Azkaban. "Hello, Draco," The man says to me pleasently, in an American accent. "How are you?" "Seen better times, thanks, and yourself?" I asked politely. I hope Malfoy is polite dealing with deatheaters. His face falters not, so I figure I said the right thing. "The latter, I'm afriad," He says. He sighed. "Destroying inncocent childeren's lives forever takes its toll." "Yes, I assume it would," I reply with politeness. Is this man a werewolf? I scrutinize him. His face looks tired, his hair streaked with gray. Just like Remus. Yep, definately a werewolf. I wonder why he got bit. "Darling, Dad was just telling me about the extra security for death eaters," Madisen added to me. She was also American. "It sounds horrific." "Yes, it quite does," I agree sollemnly. "So how was cleaning Nagini?" Madisen asked me. The snake. I almost feel sorry for the bloke, he has to clean the snake. "She was fairly well-behaved," I say easily. This is easier then I predicted. "Draco, I heard the voices from upstairs; are you going to preform the charms?" She asked me, her eyes boring into mine. I blinked so her stare would falter. "They said you know them."Ummm...What spells should I use? I can't help protect the death eater's headquarters. That would be going against everything I beleive in. But if I refuse, they'll get suspicious. "Yes." I pull out my wand, thankful it's the same color and length as Malfoy's. I point it to the wall and say a few spells Hermione uses on our tent. I make it Unplottable and Anti-Muggle and preform a complicated spell Hermione made up to make the basement door unseeable to everyone exept those in the house right now and Harry and Hermione. I only think Harry and Hermione's names though, so Madisen and Vicarian can't hear me. I put my wand away and sink onto a chair in the corner of the room. I look around. There's no overhead lights; just a lot of lamps. A door is ajar; I can see a sink and toilet through it. There's a double bed, a dresser, and a desk. On the desk is a disgruntled stack of parchment and an inkpot. A few quills sit in a cup. There's a photo album in the floor by the bed. A bookshelf has books with titles like 'Mastering The Dark Arts' and 'The Tales Of Beedle The Bard'. The chair I was sitting on was made of blonde wood. There was another identical chair about a foot away. Madisen and Vicarian are sitting on the dark green duvet on the bed. I looked at Madisen. She looked at me with her big deep blue eyes. Nice eyes, I realised. Nice face altogether. Her eyes were covered in dark makeup, her hair perfectly straight. Bubble gum pink hair. I wonder what the spell for that is, I think idley. I look at my watch. Ten minutes to go until I must return to the attic. "Are you okay?" Madisen asks me, still looking into my eyes, which are now a very pale blue. "Yeah," I mumble. Mumbleing is best; then he might be and he might not be. The nice thing about mumbleing is nobody can tell your emotions when you mumble. It's just easier. She somes off the bed and sits in the other chair. "No, somthing's wrong. What is it?" She asks gently. "I'm fine." Merlin, this girl is persistent. Almost as bad as Hermione. I hope she doesn't try to snog me. I might throw up if a death eater snogs me. "No, you're not." She pushes back a strand of my blonde hair. I look at my watch. It's time to redose. "I'll be right back, I just need to finish Nagini," I say and leave. Once in the attic, Malfoy is starting to stir. Both his spell and potion are starting to wear off. I pull out a few of his hairs and take the potion. I then pull on the Invisability Cloack. He can't know who or what I am, even after I'm done here. I silently redo his spell and potion. Then I throw the cloak over him. I proceed downstairs. Snape is standing alone at the foot of the stairs. "Draco," He greets me. "Odd you go back upstairs. I thought you were trying to get in as much time with Madisen as possible before the Dark Lord sends you on your next task." "I had a job left undone, sir, and I wanted to finish it," I reply smoothly and return downstairs. Madisen sits alone on the bed, a quill in her hand. She's scrawling somthing on a piece of parchment. She looks up at me. I notice a letter on the bed by her. "An owl just came from Rumor," Madisen said to me in a bland voice, as if she had no thoughts on the subject. "Really," I said casually. "What about?" "Auderielle's second birthday is coming up," Madisen replied, still in a bland voice. "Oh," I reply. This is the hard part of my plan; I know not even in the slightest who Rumor and Audrielle are. "She invited us back to America," Madisen said flatly. "Really." I relpy, in a bored voice. "Yes. To their house. For the party." She's silently begging me to do somthing, I can tell. "Hmmm." I don't egg her on. Madisen put the parchment and ink in the desk drawer and the quill in the cup. I suddenly remember what I'm here for. Horcrux. Right. I got up from the chair I had been sitting in and went over to the dresser. I opened the top drawer. Nothing in there but some girl underwear. I opened the next drawer. Shirts. The next contained pants. The last contained Malfoy's socks and underwear. No teacup. I look in the desk drawer. Nothing. Under the bed. Nope. That's about all there is in the room. "Madisen?" I ask. She looks at me. "Hmmm?" "You know those...items the Dark Lord has, that he trusts only to his most devoted followers?" I ask her, chosing my words carefully. "Ummm...Like what?" She looks perplexed. She must not know about the horcruxs. "A....Maybe...A teacup?" I ask carefully. "No. I don't recall anything like that. Are you saying you want a teacup?" "Yeah...I'll go make some tea...D'you want any?" They might put the cup in the cupboard, so as to not seem secretive. "Sure," She looks at me questainingly. I nod and stand up. I go to the kitchen. It's fully dark outside now. I open the cupboard. Every single cup is white with a crest on it. I sigh but get out two and make two muggs of the tea from the pantry. I put milk and sugar in them. I take them back downstairs, were Madisen is sitting at the desk, doing nothing. "Here you go, er, dear," I say. It's not easy talking to a death eater like you don't hate them. "Thank you," She says absently and takes the cup. She drinks from it, the puts it down like it's contaminated. "Uhm, what did you put in this?" She looks disgusted. "Sugar and milk," I say suspiciously to her. Oh, right. She's American. They don't put anything in their tea. "Oh. I thought I'd told you, I only put honey in my tea." She takes another sip, forcedly. Perhaps she's trying to be polite. "Oh. I'm sorry. I...forgot." "Unlike you to forget, darling," She tilted her mead at me as if to say, 'explain yourself'. "As you are perfectly aware, I've had a lot on my mind of late," I snap at her. She looks hurt. "I...I know. I'm sorry. I have to." She gets up and goes to lay one the bed. I do to, thinking that Malfoy probably would follow. She turns her head to look at me, so I look at her. "Seriously, what's wrong?" She asks me. The truthful answer would be 'I'm on a very important mission, posing as Malfoy, and I can't seem to find out anything about the cup, therefore I'm wasting Polyjuice Potion.', but that would give away that I'm not actually Malfoy. Thinking quickly, I get an idea. "It's all those missions the Dark Lord is sending me on, and when I come home, you still don't seem happy. All I want is for you to be happy, and for us to have a happy life and be regular." I say in a voice of false frustration. Blimey. That was pretty good. I sound like I actually love her. "Oh, Draco! I'm alright! Really. I want us to be happy to. But you have to do what you have to do." She kissed my hair. "Maybe things would be easier if-" I cut myself off. I can't suggest that, it's just about as anti-Malfoy as you can get. "What is it, hunny?" Madisen asks me. Maybe she would understand. Her eyes, her mouth, the way she looks when she's worried, it just looks so familier. Like I know her. But I know I don't. It's like...She looks like she could change sides. Be with the Order. "Maybe it would be better for us if we...change...sides?" I say slowly. "You mean...Go to the...Order?" She asks, equally slow. I can tell she's debating the pros and cons of the proposition. "Yeah. Or maybe, just stay out of all of this?" I ask her. "I would love to stop all this violence and treachary. You're right, we should switch sides or stay out of it." I don't beleive this. I've just convinced a death eater the Order is better! I guess I know how to talk to people. I check my watch. almost time to retake my potion. I sit up. "Think about it, love. I'll just go take our cups up to the sink." I grab the cups and take them up. I deposite them in the sink then go back to the attic. I opened the door. The real Malfoy still lay on the ground, though he was now exposed. "Well, well, well," The cold voice of Severus Snape said to me. "It looks as if Mr. Malfoy is able to be in two places at once."

Revised Chapter 3 Of Madisen's Fic(Better, better!!)

2009-08-29T21:40:00.000-07:00

I have to go over to that bastard's house. If I don't I might never get the Horcrux. This one will be Helga Hufflepuff's teacup, I'm pretty sure.
"Harry, are you sure this is a good idea?" My best friend, Hermione Granger asked me nervously.
"Yes! I'm going right now." I got my wand off the table.
"Be careful, mate," My other best friend, Ron Weasly, told me worridly.
"No. I'm going to get the cup or find out the wearabouts of it."
"Harry!" Hermione looked at me in the sort of way that a mother would look at a naughty child.
I scowled and left the tent Mr. Weasly's former colleague, Perkins, used to have. I counted my paces and when one hundered away, I Apparated to his house. As I 'enjoyed'(insert heavy sarcasm here) the feeling of being squeezed through a tube, I remembered all the things I hate about Malfoy: He almost killed Dumbledore, his aunt killed my godfather, his dad almost got Hagrid's hippogriff, Buckbeak, killed, he always had a reason to make fun of me, Hermione, and Ron, he was a coward and took the wrong side, and he was a completly arrogant. I got the the Malfoy Manor. I opened the front door and stood in the doorway, waiting for someone to hear the door creak. I heard footsteps, coming up the basement stairs. Then the footsteps stopped. No one came through the door."Malfoy!" I called, suddenly burnt with rage over past issues. "Come out, you coward!"The door opened slowly, and he came out, wand up."Draco....? What's all this yelling?" A voice called from the basement. A girl voice. How on earth did Malfoy manage to get a girlfriend?The girl in questain, a small-ish girl with bright pink hair, staggered up through the door.In a rush of thoughts, I realised that Malfoy would be enraged if I hurt this girl, by the way he looked at her. So this is the way to him."Levicorpus!" I cried, pointing my wand at the pink-haired girl. She was immediately pulled into the air and suspended by her left ankle."Were is it, Malfoy?" I spat. "WERE IS IT?""Were is what? Why are you here?" He didn't sound angry as I suddenly felt. He just sounded startled. The pink-haired girl silently summoned her wand. But I noticed. I whipped it out of her hand and onto the floor.Then I did somthing aweful, somthing I'd only attempted once, with no avail. Somthing I swore to myself I'd never, ever use.I used an unforgivable.
"CRUCIO!"
I yelled, my wand pointed at Malfoy's girlfriend.She curled in pain. I immediately realised what I had done. No. I was supposed to be the good guy, the one who didn't resort to that kind of treachary. After all, this girl hadn't done anything. She just had bad taste in boyfriends. I looked over to her. I guess being upside down mixed with the cruciatus curse made her black out. She fell unconcious in a heap on the floor. This made Malfoy go white with anger(I didn't think that was possible, his skin being ice colored already.)."YOU CAN ATTACK ME, BUT WHEN YOU HURT HER, YOU'RE A DEAD MAN WALKING!"This was the most enraged I'd ever seen him. He lunged at me, and I felt my shirt being torn and my glasses going crooked. I don't know what he'd done, but I was bleeding a lot.
Bellatrix Lestrange pulled him off me. I tried to Apparate, but my body hurt to much and wouldn't move.
"Bloody hell, Draco, did you even think to use your wand?" Bellatrix asked him.
"I did, but I figured I'd get a right lot more pleasure about beating him up myself."Malfoy didn't sound pleased, though.
I attempted to Apparate again, but I still couldn't.
Snape and Bellatrix both laughed at what Malfoy said."Lucius, if you would be so kind as to take Potter here to-" Severus Snape started to say. But I didn't get to hear what he wanted to do with me, as I finally Apparated back successfully.
I staggared towards the tent. Hermione scrutinized me briefly. "Harry! You're a mess! What happened?"
I shared my epic tale of loosing my head, the bubble-gum-pink haired girl, my use of the cruciatus curse, and not getting anywere closer to the teacup.
"So Malfoy has a girlfriend," Ron said thoughtfully. "Never thought that would happen. What's her name?"
"I dunno," I replied. "No one said. But her hair was really vivid."

Hermione used a number of spells and charms to fix my shirt, glasses, bruises, and cuts.
"Mate, you have to be more careful next time!" Ron told me. "And don't get all mental on him."
"I know."
I got up left the tent, sitting down by the entrance.
The cruciatus curse.
I thought of the people I'd disgrased by useing that curse: My mum, my dad, Dumbledore, Sirius, all my Hogwarts teachers(apart from Snape), Remus Lupin, the DA lot, my friends, even Godric Gryffindor himself.
And I'm supposed to be in the Order.
And we're still nowhere.
And I used the cruciatus curse.
I put my head in my hands. I just sat there for hours, somewere in between sleep and self-loathe. I heard the tent door open and Hermione came out.
"Harry, your shift is up," She said gently. I felt a hand on my shoulder.
I chose to ignore her.
"Harry?" She asked.
I didn't respond. She sighed and went back inside.
I sat there for a lot longer, sinking in a pool of hate. Words were flashing through my mind:
Arrogent. Git. Just as bad as them. She was innocent. I'm supposed to be good.

But mostly,

My mum died for me.

Severus's Sorrow

2009-08-29T00:34:00.000-07:00

This is the shortest fic in the history of Ginny In The Sky. Wow. Only three paragraphs. And 15 minutes. I just felt compelled to write a fic about post-Mudblood-incedent Snape. So here you are.

Severus Snape sat alone on the swing, unmoving. He didn't see the point of actually swinging since he had no one to swing with. It was five-thirty A.M. Severus had woken up early, and, though it was summer, he was unable to sleep in. He just sat on his swing. As he looked around the deserted playground, he remembered the happier times expirienced at this very playground, on this very swing. Muggle childeren would soon come to play, sniggering at the sight of the sixteen year old boy with the greasy hair, just sitting there all alone, completely stationary. He closed his eyes and let him mind wander to his favorite memory.
He was ten years old in this particular memory. He was sitting on this very swing, watching the most beutiful girl he had ever seen in his life swinging higher and higher then the Muggle on the next swing. This lovely girl was one Lilian Evans, the girl with emerald colored eyes and perfect long, shiny dark red hair. Her eyes sparkled with laughter as she pumped higher and higher, then jumped, to the dissapointment of the Muggle girl beside her. At this moment, Severus left his swing and confronted the lovely girl. He was a wizard, you see, and he could tell she was a witch. "Hey!" He called to her. She looked at him. "Yes?" She replied sweetly. "You're not like the other girls," He said. He didn't plan to let that thought escape his lips. She looked at him. "How so?" She asked daringly. An idea had struck him. He could pretend he'd meant somthing else. "You're a witch." He said blandly. Her brow furrowed. "I'm a what?" She asked in confusion. "A witch," Severus replied. "It's okay. Witches are good. My mum's one. I'm a wizard." Lily looked at him like he must be derranged. "I'm not a witch," Lily said. "Witches have green noses and warts and wands." "No," Severus replied. "Not neccisarily. Well, they do get wands. But not green noses or warts." He shrugged. "Some of them are quite pretty," He added. Later that night they had sat in the dark of the deserted playground and discussted Hogwarts, which Severus had told her about. He explained about the letter telling her everything, Diagon Ally, Muggles, magic, and everything in between.
They had been best friends ever since. Until that aweful day, barely a month earlier, when Severus had let a word slip, and called her a Mudblood, which is a really foul name for someone whose parents are Muggles. She'd never forgiven him. Now he had to swing alone. Severus didn't see the point of going back to school. He wouldn't have any friends, and he would get made fun of by Potter, Black, Lupin, and Peddigrew even worse then ever. His life, he felt, was now pointless. He might never again talk to the girl he loved and if he did she might ignore him or yell at his ignorance. He felt wasted. He'd tried to patch things up, but Lily was firm. She wanted nothing to do with a wizard who called her 'Mudblood'.
By now, the playground had filled with Muggles spanning from ages five to eleven. They goggled at Severus sitting alone, but he didn't care. Nothing mattered now that his dreams were crushed.
His dreams of Lily somday loving him.

Spread Your Wings

2009-08-24T14:48:00.000-07:00

This is a fic about a Queen song, Spread Your Wings. It's rather depressing, althogh. Here's a link to listen to the song: http://listen.grooveshark.com/#/song/Spread_Your_Wings/64437

There once was a guy, named Sammy. He was pretty sad, just watching reruns on Nick@Night. He knew it was time to get a life, y'know, like, leave his boring self behind. But his boss contredicted him upon hearing Sammy's plans: He said, "Boy, you've better beggin to get those crazy ideas out of your head, as none of them are gonna work. Sammy, who the heck do you think that you are? You should be of a higher rank by now. Anyway, get me a coffee." But Sammy still wanted to be a better person. "Spread your wings," He told himself, "and fly away. Pull yourself together, you're better then this. After all, you're a free man." So he went abroad. He moved from his teeny flat in Little Whinging, Surry, to Manhatten, NY, in America. All the city lights lifted his spirets, although he still seemed to be spending all his nights alone in his shabby hotel room. He didn't talk to anyone, and soon began to hate new york. "Okay," he told himself, "I'll just leave." So he booked a flight to Miami, FL, still in America. But the flight wasn't for a week. Every night, he just sat alone in his hotel room and pondered what he might seek in Miami. His hatred for Manhatten grew, and he wished to put as many miles between himself and Manhatten as possible. There was nothing in Manhatten for him, nothing. Since he was typically unlucky, he didn't have the highest hopes for Miami. And he was shorter then any of the people in New York, so that lowered his hopes even more. And besides, he had no talent. Nothing came easy for him. He'd tried everything: Painting, writing, cooking, woodworking, marketing, law school, banking, math, real estate, and even animal training. Nothing turned out right. "Now it's time." He told himself. His mind was made up, as this was most likely his last chance. He called his boss, who contredicted him yet again: "You listen, idiot boy, you're always dreaming! Crazy notions! No real ambitions! Sammy, you won't get very far at all! Why can't you just find happiness in working for me again?" This really put Sammy down. Of course he had ambitions! And his ideas aren't that crazy!
He tried to tell himself to spread his wings and fly again, but he couldn't.
Sammy would never be happy, and he knew it.

Harry's Point Of Veiw Of Madisen's Fic

2009-08-20T17:19:00.000-07:00

I have to go over to that bastard's house. If I don't I might never get the Horcrx. This one will be Helga Hufflepuff's teacup, I'm pretty sure.

"Harry, are you sure this is a good idea?" My best friend, Hermione Granger asked me nervously.
"Yes! I'm going right now." I got my wand off the table.
"Be careful, mate," My other best friend, Ron Weasly, told me worridly.
"No. I'm going to get the cup or find out the wearabouts of it."
"Harry!" Hermione looked at me in the sort of way that a mother would look at a naughty child.
I scowled and left the tent Mr. Weasly's former colleague, Perkins, used to have. I counted my paces and when one hundered away, I Apparated to his house. I opened the front door and stood in the doorway, waiting for someone to hear the door creak. I heard footsteps, coming up the basement stairs. Then the footsteps stopped. No one came through the door.
"Malfoy!" I screamed, burnt with rage over past issues. "Come out, you coward!"
The door opened slowly, and he came out, wand up.
"Draco....? What's all this yelling?" A voice called from the basement. A girl voice. How on earth did Malfoy manage to get a girlfriend?
The girl in questain, a small-ish girl with bright pink hair, staggered up through the door.
In a rush of thoughts, I realised that Malfoy would be enraged if I hurt this girl, by the way he looked at her. So this is the way to him.
"Levicorpus!" I cried, pointing my wand at the pink-haired girl. She was immediately pulled into the air and suspended by her left ankle.

"Were is it, Malfoy?" I spat. "WERE IS IT?"
"Were is what? Why are you here?" He didn't sound angry as I suddenly felt. He just sounded startled.
The pink-haired girl silently summoned her wand. But I was to quick. I whipped it out of her hand and onto the floor.
Then I did somthing aweful, somthing I'd only attempted once, with no avail.
I used an unforgivable.
"CRUCIO!" I screamed, my wand pointed at Malfoy's girlfriend.
She curled in pain. I immediately realised what I had done. No. I was supposed to be the good guy, the one who didn't resort to that kind of treachary. After all, this girl hadn't done anything. She just had bad taste in boyfriends.
I guess being upside down mixed with the cruciatus curse made her balck out. She fell unconcious in a heap on the floor.
This made Malfoy go white with anger(I didn't think that was possible, his skin being ice colored already.).
"YOU CAN ATTACK ME, BUT WHEN YOU HURT HER, YOU'RE A DEAD MAN WALKING!"
This was the most enraged I'd ever seen him.
He lunged at me, and I felt my shirt being torn and my glasses going crooked. I don't know what he'd done, but I was bleeding a lot.
Bellatrix Lestrange pulled him off me. I tried to Apparate, but my body hurt to much and wouldn't move.
"Bloody hell, Draco, did you even think to use your wand?" Bellatrix asked him.
"I did, but I figured iId get a right lot more pleasure about beating him up myself."
Malfoy didn't sound pleased, though.
I attempted to Apparate again, but I still couldn't.
Snape and Bellatrix both laughed at what Malfoy said.
"Lucius, if you would be so kind as to take Potter here to-" Severus Snape started to say. But I didn't get to hear what he wanted to do with me, as I finally Apparated back successfully.
I staggared towards the tent. Hermione scrutinized me briefly. "Harry! You're a mess! What happened?"
I shared my epic tale of loosing my head, the bubble-gum-pink haired girl, my use of the cruciatus curse, and not getting anywere closer to the teacup.
"So Malfoy has a girlfriend," Ron said thoughtfully. "Never thought that would happen. What's her name?"
"I dunno," I replied. "No one said. But her hair was really vivid."
Hermione used a number of spells and charms to fix my shirt, glasses, bruises, and cuts.
"Mate, you have to be more careful next time!" Ron scolded. "And don't get all mental on him."
"I know." I got up left the tent, sitting down by the entrance.
The cruciatus curse.
And I was supposed to be in the Order.
And we're still nowhere.

Chapter One: Goodbyes At Grimmauld Place

2009-08-20T10:42:00.000-07:00

This is a chapterfic, about Madisen's cousin Natalie. It is the product of a prompt submitted annonymously. The challenge: Create a fic about Natalie, who is in love with a Weasly boy(not Bill or Ron). Rated PG. Done in 24 hours, starting at 6:30 AM on Thursday, Augaust 20, 2009.

I take no onerage of the people/places in this fic(with the exeption of Natalie, of course), as they belong to JK Rowling, the wonderful writer of the Harry Potter series. Spoilers: Not really. Godric's Hollow and Horcruxs. So 7th book I guess. Although this is post HBP.

Wish me luck!!

******

*clearing my throat*

"Love, are you sure you want to go through with this?" My boyfriend, Fred, asked worridly. Which worried me. Fred's usually a joker, and rarely worried. Plus, he harldy ever calls me 'love'. Usually Natacat."Don't worry, Fred. I'm fine. I can go monitor the happenings in Godric's Hollow by myself. Just...Stay here with everyone. I'll be back." I smiled and pulled on my cloak. I pulled the black curly wig over my long, straight red hair."That was one of the prettiest things about you," Fred said softly.He looked sad. We'd never been apart for more then a night since I graduated Hogwarts and began my work for the Order. But now, there have been lots of snakes seen in Godric's Hollow. Including one that is repotredly Nagini, Vo- sorry, You-Know-Who's snake. (I normally aren't afraid to say the V word, but it's been tabood. If you say it or think it, the deatheaters know who said it and were you are. "It's okay. It's just a wig.""Should anything happen, you come back right away. None of that 'it's for the better' crap." Fred looked sternly into my eyes. His eyes are the nicest shade of bright blue."But I can't just abandon my duties!" I wish he could come with me."I'll vouch for you. George is pretty creative when it comes to excuses.""I have to go now."He put his arms around my waist and kissed me. "I know," He said as he pulled away. I felt him put somthing in my pocket."What's this?""It's a mirror. I have the other. Just look into it and say my name. I won't summon you, as you might be busy. But I'll always be close to my mirror, should you need to...Tell me somthing relating to your task."I smiled up at him."I'll miss you.""I will to, love. But all you have to do is Apparate-""You know I'll want to. I-" But I was cut off by the sound of Fred's mum."Nata, dear, I have to do your eyes!" Mrs. Weasly called up to me.Fred let go of my waist and we walked hand in hand down the stairs of number twelve, Grimmauld Place. I smiled sadly at the thought of Sirius Black, the former occupent. I'd never had the pleasure of meeting him, I wasn't friends with Harry, Ginny, Hermione, and Ron(Or Fred's girlfriend) until after he died. Although Harry's told me in depth of what he was like, and I wish I'd known him. I felt another pang at the thought of Harry, Hermione, and Ron away in their search of horcruxs. I havn't known them long, but they're really sweet, driven wizards. I only know about their quest for horcruxs because Hermione let it slip once. I had to swear not to tell anyone.Fred and I got to the kitchen, were Mrs. Weasly was standing, holding her wand. She was going to preform a complicated spell to change my eyes from blue to brown."Good. Now, hold still and keep your eyes open." I had an immediate urge to blink but fought it."Occulus Hue!" She said, pointing her wand in between my eyes. I turned around, blinked, and looked in the mirror. I had chocolate brown eyes staring back at me. I straigtened my wig."Dear, I'll just change your hair, to. Don't bother with that silly Muggle thing." Mrs. Weasly preformed another complicated spell, and my hair turned black and wavy, just like the wig. I shrugged and took the wig off, shaking out my new hair. I've always wanted wavy hair."Anything else you want to ruin about my girlfriend?" Fred spat, annoyed."Hmm. Fred, dear, what do you think about purging her of freckles?" Mrs. Weasly scrutinized me."No." Fred sounded firm. "Not the freckles.""Fred, she does have rather a lot of them. It might be a giveaway-""Just make her nose bigger or somthing."Meanwhile, I was scrutinizing myself in the mirror. I don't look like Natalie. I look like...I don't know. I look dark."I think I look different enough."Mrs. Weasly ingnored this. "We could add another color to her hair-""Mum! No!""I'll just go upstairs and collect my bag."I went up to the attic. The boggart was there, being a dead version of Fred. I flicked my want lazilly at it. "Ridikkulus." Fred came back alive and started dancing. I faked a laugh so it would go away.I got up to the attic I was sleeping in with Ginny, Fred, and George. I found my tiny pouch that I wore around my neck, and looked inside. The undetected enlargement charm Hermione had taught me months before was still working. I threw some clothes, potien ingredients, wizard gold, muggle money, a flask of polyjuice potion, a quill, some ink, a roll of parchment, and my heavy winter coat inside. I poketed my wand and put the bag around my neck. By the time I was back downstairs, most of the current occupents of the headquarters were there to see me off.
Ginny beckoned me to the next room.
"What's up, Gin?"
She looked up. She seemed sad.
"Listen, Nat, if you see Harry-" She took a deep breath. "If you see Harry, I want you to give him this." She pulled out a piece of parchment, folded very tiny. "I won't read it."
Ginny hugged me tightly.
We went into the next room, were everyone was waiting to say goodbye. I bid farewell to my fellow Order members and stepped out the door. Fred followed.
"Be careful."
"I'll try."
"Remember the mirrors."
"Yes, sir."
"I love you."
"I love you to."
Fred brushed my hand.
I smiled sadly, looked up at him, and Apparated.

Only when I got the the Hollow, I was immediately immobalized, picked up, and forced into side-along Apparition.

A Typical Day At The Potters's(fic)

2009-08-19T22:23:00.000-07:00

My darling cousin gave me a prompt and deadline: A typical day at the Potter's, when Ginny and Harry are married. Start: 9:35 P.M. Must be finished by: 11:35 P.M. Rated: G.

People, pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease give me prompts!! In the comment box will do. I don't do anything rated more then PG13, and no slash whatsoever. I specialize in filling gaps in Harry Potter books and post HBP, but will exept any challenge. And be harsh with the deadlines.

Here goes.

Ginny was reading the Daily Prophet at the kitchen table when her sons, James and Albus, came in. Albus looked exited.

"Mummy, guess what? James told me that if I eat a slug a day, my wizard magic will work better then everyone else's!" Albus was always believing what his older brother, James, said, no matter how ludicrous. That's because Alubs is four and James is five, therefor supirior.

"Al, how many times must I remind you? Don't eat anything James tells you to."

"It's true," Her husband, Harry, agreed. He came into the kitchen holding Lily, who was a year old. "Ron always did what Fred and George told him to, and look how he turned out." Harry said warningly.

Albus's eyes widened in fear. "You mean, if I listen to James, I'll turn out like Uncle Ron?"

Ginny and Harry laughed. "Gin, look what he's saying about your brother!" Harry said, fakely shocked. "Watch out, AL. You don't want to be like anyof my brothers, especially not Ron." Ginny warned. Harry got the baby formula jar out of the cupboard. He knitted his eyebrows at it.

Ginny stood up and took it from him. "Let me." The day Harry learned how to care for infants was the day James stopped trying to make Albus eat odd things. Ginny made the baby formula and gave the bottle to Lily. Harry put two Muggle waffles in a Muggle contraption called a toaster. He had grown up with Muggle things, and kept to them. Worse, he got Albus and James to eat Muggle things too.

Later that day, Ginny was weeding the garden. James and Albus were playing on their toy broomsticks, whizzing around two feet from the ground. Just then, and owl came from Harry at work.

Gin,

I told Ron what Al said earlier. He had a right good laugh at that. Then Fred and George came to renew their property for their shop, so we told them to. they both laughed. Then George said it gave him an idea for a product line: Sweets that look normal but actually turn your face green or your hair three feet long. Remind me to be careful next time I take James there.

And Ron invited us to dinner tomorrow night, for Rose's birthday. I'll get a present on the way home. We're off to Paris for an Auror investigation, so I must go.

Love, Harry.

Ginny giggled at the thought of the new product line her brothers had thought up. They'd have to be careful about James there.

James got bored, and went inside. Therefore Albus followed suit.

Half an hour later, when Ginny was writing her weekly Quiddich collumn for the Prophet, she heard a samll explosion. No smoke was in the air, so she didn't even look up from her parchment.

After all, it was just a typical day at the Potter's.

Ginny And The Diary. Fic.

2009-08-18T16:38:00.000-07:00

This happens near the beginning of the second book, when Ginny writes to Tom Riddle(Voldemort) through his diary/horrcrux. Rated G. Spoilers: 2nd book, Harry Potter And The Chamber Of Secrets(SERIOUSLY!!! Stop reading right now if you havn't finished it.). Plus, I just said the thing about the horcrux, so I guess the 6th book, Harry Potter And The Halfblood Prince. Mind you, they say nothing of what Ginny told Tom and what he told her, so it's not crystl-clear. But whatever, I did my best.

Ginny Weasly had found a diary in the caulderon she'd gotten in Diagon Ally earlier that day. It was empty. She dipped a quill in ink and started writing:

'I start Hogwarts in two days.'

Then she paused, as she couldn't think of anything else to write. But then, all of a sudden, the words she'd scrawled dissapeared. Perplexed, she turned the page to see if they bled through. But when she'd turned the page back, there was a response!

'Really? I went to Hogwarts. What's your name?'
Ginny was amazed. A diary that responded! That was just what she needed.
'I'm Ginny Weasly. What's your name?'
She waited patiently as her words dissapeared and the response came:
'Hello Ginny Weasly, my name is Tom Marvolo Riddle. May I ask, do you have any older siblings that attend Hogwarts?'
Ginny:
'Yes, I have a brother named Percy; he's a sixth year, and then Fred and George; they're fith years, then Ron; he's a second year. And then Bill and Charlie have already graduated.'
Tom:
'Wow, six brothers. And you're the only girl?'
Ginny:
'Yes. Mum wanted to have a girl, but she ended up with six boys first. Do you have any siblings?'
Tom:
'No, I grew up in a Muggle orphanage. My mum was a witch.'
Ginny:
'And your dad? Both my parents are magic.'
Tom:
'My father was a muggle.'
Ginny:
'Oh. You're a half blood.'
Tom:
'Unfortunately so. Would you like me to tell you about the Houses?'
Ginny:
'Yes, please.'
Tom:
'Ravelclaw is the smartest people, with high wit. Hufflepuff is the loyal, friendly type. Gryffindor is for the overly brave, the wizards who will do anything for their friends and for Light magic. Slytherin is the best, for those who are brave and smart, but whom won't risk their lives for others. I was a Slytherin. I also was a prefect, then Head Boy for my final year.'
Ginny:
'Really? My brother Percy's a prefect. I wouldn't be surprised if he is appointed Head Boy next year.'

Tom:
'What about Fred and George? Are they prefects?'
Ginny:
'No, that would never happen in a million years. They wouldn't be prefects even for a hundered Galeons.'
Tom:
'They're discusted at the idea, are they?'
Ginny:
'Oh, definately. Tell me, Tom, did you make any new friends when you started school?'
Tom:
'Well, you could say that I had a few close friends, yeah.'
Ginny:
'Do you think I will make any?'

Tom:
'Frankly, Ginny, I'd be surprised to hear you don't. Everyone makes friends on the train, or at the feast, or in classes, or in their dormitorys. As will you.'
Ginny pondered that. She was shy, therefore maybe Tom was wrong. But he had said that he'd be surprised if she didn't.
"Ginny! Time for supper, dear!" Molly Weasly called up to her daughter.
Ginny:
'Tom, I have to go eat supper. Will you always be here in the diary?'
Tom:
'Yes, I will. And remember, don't tell anyone you've been writing to me.'
Ginny:
'Thanks! Okay! By, Tom!'
Ginny closed the diary and put her quill, ink, and the book away. She washed her hands and went down to supper.

After this exange, Ginny wrote to Tom almost every night. There were few nights when she wasn't seen sitting in the Gryffindor common room with her diary, telling Tom her problems and reading his advice. He also helped her with her homework. Ginny felt this diary was the best thing she had ever owned.

But one day, Filch's cat, Mrs. Norris, was found petrified, and on the wall behind her was scrawled:

The Chamber Of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the heir, beware.

And it was in blood. This alarmed Ginny because she couldn't remember anything from the time it happened, and also her right index finger had a scab on it.

Ginny opened the diary. Tom might be able to make sense of it.

Ginny:

'The caretaker's cat, Mrs. Norris, was found petrified by a wall that had a message on it, 'The chamber of secrets has been opened. Enemies of the heir, beware.' And it was written in blood. The thing is, I can't remember what I was doing at the time it was written, and there's a scab on my finger. It's worrying me.'

Tom:

'That's odd. The heir of what?'

Ginny:

'Professor Dumbledore says the heir of Slytherin, your house. I don't get why I have the scab on my finger though, and it's bothering me. Did I do that, unconciously? It just doesn't make sense.'

Tom:

'It doesn't make sense. Though I advise you not to go investigate, because it might strike the teachers as suspicious.'

Ginny:

'Right. I'm off to bed, goodnight.'

Tom:

'Goodnight.'

Ginny closed the diary. She bid her friend, Luna, goodnight and climbed into her bed. She drew the curtains and got comfortable. Then she fell asleep, trying to block out thoughts of what she might've done.

By June, Mrs. Norris, Filtch's cat, Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost, Justin Finch-Flechery, a Hufflepuff boy, Colin Creevy, a Gryffindor in Ginny's year, and Hermione Granger, Ron and Harry' friend, had been petrified. The last one was awful, because Ginny knew Hermione. The minute she found out Hermione had been petrified, she wrote Tom.

Ginny:

'Tom, I really think this diary relates to the attacks.'

Tom:

'You're wrong. Ginny, how could I have anything to do with it? I have to stay in the diary.'

Ginny had had enough. She went to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom and threw the book in water. Then she ran away.

******

The next morning(Saturday), Ginny was sitting on a squishy chair by the fireplace and working on her History Of Magic homework. She got to a difficult questain and instinctively reached into her pocket for Tom's diary, then realising it wasn't there. She sighed and went back to her homework. But a few minutes later, when she was procrastinating-slash-trying to figure out the correct answer for a problem, she overheard her brother and Harry talking in hushed voices. She strained her ears and heard the words 'diary', 'chamber', 'last night', 'Riddle', and 'girls's lavatory'. Her stomache twisted at the thought of them discovering Tom's diary. So later that day, Ginny crept up to the second-year boys's dorms and made a huge mess of the place, throwing clothes everywere. Ginny finally found the book at the bottom of Harry's trunk. She took it and went to her dorm, got onto her bed, and closed the curtains. She got out a quill and ink and wrote:

'What did you do to Harry and Ron?'

Tom:

'I don't know of any Ron, but Harry and I had a little conversation last night.'

The first thought that struck Ginny was that Tom had told Harry about her crush on him.

Ginny:

'What did you tell him?'

Tom:

'About the Chamber Of Secrets. Don't worry, I didn't tell Harry that you fancy him.'

Ginny shut the book and threw it under the bed.

The next thing she knew, she was laying in a strange room, feeling very weak and looking up at Harry, who had just saved her life. Tom Riddle was really Lord Voldemort, and he had been possessing Ginny. And Harry had found the Chamber, defeated the basalisk that had been sneaking around in the pipes pefrifiying studens(and cats and ghosts), and destroyed the diary, thus saving Ginny's life.

Now she really fancied him.

Harry Potter Fic(Severus And Lily)

2009-08-14T11:23:00.000-07:00

I know this is unusual, I usually post chapters to Lights, Camera, Murder. P.S., new chapter soon. At the moment I'm tossing around ideas for it. But here's the fic: It's rated PG, about Lily and Snape. It's my first fic, so bear with me. Anyway, here it is.

Lily Evens was on the train to Hogwarts. Sitting accross from her was her best friend, Severus Snape. They'd be entering their fith year at Hogwarts in just a few hours.
"Potter is looking at you," Severus told Lily. James Potter, Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, and Peter Pettigrew were sitting in the compartment accross the aisle from them. Sirius was talking animatedly, but James was catching glances at Lily. It was well known that James and Severus hated eachother. And to make matters worse, they both fancied the same girl.
"Sev, you know I'm not intrested. He's foul." Lily hat to remind him at least three times a week.
"I know, just saying." Severus put his hands up in surrender.
"Seriously, Sev. You need to get over this. I said I'm not interested, and I stand by that." Lily sighed.
"I know, I know. Sorry. Caulderon Cake?" Severus handed Lily a cake.
"Thanks. And by the way, why did you have to come to my house last week? Tuney was just forgiving me, but then you showed up and she ran upstairs and wouldn't come out of her room! She didn't even eat dinner."
Severus hung his head. He knew him and Lily were drifting apart(though he was desprately trying to save their friendship, as she was the first friend he'd ever had), but how could he know Petunia was just making up with her sister?
"I told you, Lils, I didn't know. I'm sorry. Really sorry. But how would you feel if she were the wizard and you were the Muggle? Honestly, I'd be bloody angry."
"I know, but still. We might never be friends again."
"Lily, she's only trying to make you think you're a freak for being a witch."
"Whatever. I'm off to the loo." Lily got up and left the compartment occupied only by her and Severus.
Severus sighed. His mind filled with an image of Lily snogging James in the loo. But they couldn't be, because his worst enemy stood at the door of the compartment.
James snickered and came through the door, flanked by Sirius Black and Remus Lupin. Severus was surprised to not see Peter Pettigrew, who worshipped the very ground James, Sirius, and Remus trode upon.
"What d'you reckon, Prongs?" Sirius asked innocently to James. "Well, I reckon Moony has somthing in his pocket that Snivellus might find...er...Amusing." James winked at Remus, who shook his head and mumbled somthing in James's ear. James sighed. "Fine, Padfoot can do it." Sirius rolled his eyes and fished somthing out of the sachel Remus was holding. It was a small green purse. Looking eager, Sirius, Remus, and James stepped out of the compartment. James shut the door most of the way so it was just open a crack, and Sirius took a pinch of black powder from the green purse, which, with a snicker, he dropped on the floor of the compartment. Remus slammed the door shut and the three culprits ran away. The whole compartment was now pitch black. Severus began coughing profusely. If that was Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder, he had to get out of the compartment now, as he was allergic to it(his throat would close up and he would lose breath) Coughing and gagging, Severus tried to open the door of the compartment. But before he could get to it, he fell to the ground and passed out.
"Severus?"
Severus regained conciousness, but was still woozy and unable to breathe properly. He opened his eyes.
"Oh, Sev!" Lily jumped on him and hugged him as tightly as he'd ever been hugged.
Severus gagged again and Lily released him. She had a tear in her eye. Severus found himself on the floor in between the two benches of the compartment, were he had collapsed. Lily brushed away her tears and pulled him up on to one of the benches.
"Oh, Sev, I thought you'd died! Your pulse was barely there! And you didn't even move at all!" Lily jumped on him again.
Severus, delighted to have the girl he loved hugging him, didn't tell her that his breathing was still sparse, and being squeezed was npt helping. He hugged her back. On impulse, he leaned over and snogged her on the lips. It was a wonderful, and not to mention his first, kiss. He caressed Lily's shiny, beutiful hair. Until Lily finally managed to push him away.
"Sev!" She pushed him playfully on the arm. Her cheeks were a beutiful, rosy color.
"Lils!" He brushed back her hair.
"Sev, you know I don't fancy you."
Now it was Severus's turn to blush."Well, umm, I, uh..." An idea hit him. "I'll just, uh, freshen up a bit." Severus stood and stumbled away and out the door. He walked to the loos but didn't go in, just stood outside the boy's lavatory door. He'd just ruined his chances with Lily, whom he'd loved since laying eyes on her. He shut his eyes and banged his head against the wall several times. Just then, James strode up to him, with all three of his mates with him. "Aw, girl problems, Snivvy?" Sirius asked.
"Shut up." Severus's hair had fallen to cover his face, which was good, as his eyes were'nt dry.
"To bad Evens won't snog you. You wrecked your chances with the prettiest girl in our year, mate." James pretended to look sorry.
"I said, shut up! Who I snog isn't any of your buisness And I am not your mate!" "Whoa, Snivellus wants a fight!" Sirius said to his friends. "What d'you reckon, Moony? Got any more of that Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder?"
Remus looked taken aback that Sirius asked this of him. "Well, yeah, but that's not the most brillient idea-"
"I'm not afraid of your dark powder!" Severus yelled.
"Well, well, looks like Snivvy wants to play!"
"Shut up!" Severus yelled at James, who had pulled out his wand and pointed it at him.
"Aw, you're just sad because Evens doesn't fancy you!"
"She likes me lots better then you, that's for sure!" Severus yelled at James.
This struck a nerve in James. His eyes got smaller, his lips pressed together tightly.
"You. Did. Not."
"Shut up!" This time it wasn't Severus who had yelled at James and his enterouge. Lily had appeared, her wand drawn.
"Right. Er, let's just...Go. See you, Evens, Sniv-" James caught himself. 'Don't call him that in front of Evens!' He scolded himself. He cleared his throat. "Severus." James felt dirty saying that name. But Lily would never like him if he called Severus 'Snivellus'.
"Thanks, Lily. And...I'm sorry I snogged you. We're just friends. Sorry." Severus shook his shoulder-length hair back and tried to smile apoligetically.
"It's okay, Sev. James is...Vile. And the way he just shuts right up whenever I tell him to...It's just stupid. I'd rather have you any day."
Those words made Severus's stomache do a flip. Lily Evens, the girl he met at the playground, would rather have him, as opposed to Potter! Severus could feel his pale cheeks flushing.
Lily liked him better. That was all he needed. For now.