Post by Scoleciphobic on Dec 28, 2004 22:59:26 GMT -5
A/N: I’m updating again—mostly because I got more reviews for this story than for my other two in ONE CHAPTER >.< Not that it matters to me or anything…heh…<br>
To thank you all personally…or to not…to…or to not…that is the question…<br>
Draco: Just get ON with it!
Fountie: Pushy, pushy, pushy. Geez…<br>
Draco: *goes and sulks in a corner*
Fountie: He’s still upset because of darkladyvamp’s story portraying him as a bully…ing ass…heh…<br>
Draco: *glares*
Fountie: Oh well…this story is dedicated to the creator’s of MOUNTAIN DEW!!!!!!!!!
Snivellus: Ahem…<br>
Fountie: Oh all right, and to the readers…*dead-pan voice*
Snivellus: COULDN’T YOU AT LEAST TYPE MY REAL NAME?!? IT’S NOT LIKE YOU HAVE TO EMBARRASS ME IN A STORY THAT’S ALREADY ABOUT ME!
Fountie: A black-mail is a black-mail…sorry…<br>
Snivellus: What IS he using as black-mail anyway?
Fountie: Um…HARRY!!!!
Harry: Disclaimer: Fountie owns nothing…except she IS borrowing the characters for muses…<br>
Fountie: Heh…<br>
--
In all reality, the day wasn’t entirely that long to you. In fact, it felt like it was only a couple of hours before you were walking down the corridor to the Great Hall for dinner. You had just gotten done with a nap and were actually hungry for once. Who would’ve thought getting in a fight with Severus would have brought back your appetite. Or perhaps that was why you were eating? Out of stress?
Eh, oh well. It didn’t really matter to you as of yet. It probably wouldn’t last that long, and you could go back to starving yourself again. Not that you were actually starving yourself.
Sighing to yourself, you walked over to the table and sat down. Sirius was the only Marauder there at the moment, and you frowned a little. Usually, James was the first one to the table and to have eaten at least a bit of everything. That was the main reason you didn’t like eating—he wasn’t the most mannerly eater in the wizarding world.
Glancing over at the Slytherin table, you noticed that Severus was nowhere to be found. That sort of pissed you off; what was the point in fighting if he wasn’t going to beg you for forgiveness? Not that you need to be forgiven, too? You’re the one who basically told him you hated his guts and wanted him to die, an annoyingly thingyy voice said in your head. For a second, you glanced at Sirius, thinking it belonged to him. But he was busy reading a Quidditch magazine, totally not paying any attention to whatever was going on around you. You sighed a little and started to pick at a biscuit.
Suddenly you were no longer hungry. Instead, a feeling filtered into your stomach, giving you the impression of impending doom. You squirmed uncomfortably and glanced around the Hall. No one else seemed to sense anything was wrong—not even Dumbledore. He was just sitting up at the teachers’ table, watching the students with his eerily intelligent eyes behind those half-moon spectacles of his.
You shivered, very cold. You noticed that James and Remus had joined you, but they had begun eating as if nothing was wrong. Why were you the only one who felt the change in the air? Were you the only one who could sense the tension? The sorrow? No one else seemed to notice that the ceiling was filling with ominously dark, grey clouds. Why were you the only one not clueless?
Suddenly, a bolt of lightning split the charmed sky.
No one jumped.
No one but you.
Sirius seemed to notice something was wrong.
“Hey, ‘Fly, you ok?” he asked, his eyes visibly yearning to be reading the magazine in front of him.
A part of you was insulted that a sport was more important to you, but that part was miniscule compared to the part that was annoyed he was acting like nothing wrong when something clearly was.
“Yeah, perfectly fine, Sirius,” you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm. He didn’t notice and turned back to his story.
Remus did, however. “You sure?” he asked.
“Yes I’m sure, does it look like anything is wrong?” you snapped. “Does Dumbledore look like he’s going to have a heart attack? No, I don’t think so.”<br>
He looked hurt for a minute, as if you’d whipped at him physically instead of verbally. Frowning slightly, he buried his nose back into the book he had been reading, obviously trying to block you out again. You sighed and were about to apologize when a bunch of gasps completely distracted you.
Looking up, you saw a pitch black raven that seemed to have burning red-and-still-somehow-blue eyes came soaring in the Great Hall. It circled above the millions of heads, before flying to the Gryffindor table and landing right in front of you.
It stared at you, and you managed to note why its eyes seemed two-toned to you at first. One eye was blue, the other red. That amused you greatly, until a sharp elbow dug into your side and you winced.
“What?” you hissed, turning to your left where James had seated himself without your knowledge.
“That’s a Mourner.” He looked at you, a deep sadness in his eyes. A pity. “It’s for you.”<br>
You felt your heart clench in horror. A Mourner, like a Howler, would self-destruct if it wasn’t opened or tried to be disposed of—or worse. Unlike a Howler, however, it wasn’t because someone was angry at you. Oh no. A Mourner was to tell you some news of great sorrow and destruction. The raven holding onto it, placed its foot out towards you, obviously wanting you to take it.
When you didn’t, it just moved closer, so that its foot was against your nearest hand. Apparently, it was used to the receivers not want to open the letter. Hands shaking, you slowly untied the letter from its ankle. As soon as it was free, the raven took off back into flight—giving a great screeching caw before flying off back into the storm.
You stared after it in shock, before looking back looking back at the dreaded envelope in your hand. It was a deep midnight blue—with a touch of indigo thrown in. It was a beautiful colour that served a horrible purpose. You flipped it over, not wanting the entire of Hogwarts to know whatever it was that the Mourner contained, and flinched at the site of the wax seal on it.
It was none other than the Grim stamped into black wax.
Bracing yourself for the unexpected, you quickly broke that seal, dropping the colourful envelope onto the plate. It burst into blue flames and disappeared…<br>
…but you didn’t see that.
Your eyes, an interesting combination of blue and violet, were already skimming the contents of the letter in your hands. Those eyes, which had enchanted many of the boys in Hogwarts and even other wizarding schools, filled with burning tears, which pushed against the barrier.
To thank you all personally…or to not…to…or to not…that is the question…<br>
Draco: Just get ON with it!
Fountie: Pushy, pushy, pushy. Geez…<br>
Draco: *goes and sulks in a corner*
Fountie: He’s still upset because of darkladyvamp’s story portraying him as a bully…ing ass…heh…<br>
Draco: *glares*
Fountie: Oh well…this story is dedicated to the creator’s of MOUNTAIN DEW!!!!!!!!!
Snivellus: Ahem…<br>
Fountie: Oh all right, and to the readers…*dead-pan voice*
Snivellus: COULDN’T YOU AT LEAST TYPE MY REAL NAME?!? IT’S NOT LIKE YOU HAVE TO EMBARRASS ME IN A STORY THAT’S ALREADY ABOUT ME!
Fountie: A black-mail is a black-mail…sorry…<br>
Snivellus: What IS he using as black-mail anyway?
Fountie: Um…HARRY!!!!
Harry: Disclaimer: Fountie owns nothing…except she IS borrowing the characters for muses…<br>
Fountie: Heh…<br>
--
In all reality, the day wasn’t entirely that long to you. In fact, it felt like it was only a couple of hours before you were walking down the corridor to the Great Hall for dinner. You had just gotten done with a nap and were actually hungry for once. Who would’ve thought getting in a fight with Severus would have brought back your appetite. Or perhaps that was why you were eating? Out of stress?
Eh, oh well. It didn’t really matter to you as of yet. It probably wouldn’t last that long, and you could go back to starving yourself again. Not that you were actually starving yourself.
Sighing to yourself, you walked over to the table and sat down. Sirius was the only Marauder there at the moment, and you frowned a little. Usually, James was the first one to the table and to have eaten at least a bit of everything. That was the main reason you didn’t like eating—he wasn’t the most mannerly eater in the wizarding world.
Glancing over at the Slytherin table, you noticed that Severus was nowhere to be found. That sort of pissed you off; what was the point in fighting if he wasn’t going to beg you for forgiveness? Not that you need to be forgiven, too? You’re the one who basically told him you hated his guts and wanted him to die, an annoyingly thingyy voice said in your head. For a second, you glanced at Sirius, thinking it belonged to him. But he was busy reading a Quidditch magazine, totally not paying any attention to whatever was going on around you. You sighed a little and started to pick at a biscuit.
Suddenly you were no longer hungry. Instead, a feeling filtered into your stomach, giving you the impression of impending doom. You squirmed uncomfortably and glanced around the Hall. No one else seemed to sense anything was wrong—not even Dumbledore. He was just sitting up at the teachers’ table, watching the students with his eerily intelligent eyes behind those half-moon spectacles of his.
You shivered, very cold. You noticed that James and Remus had joined you, but they had begun eating as if nothing was wrong. Why were you the only one who felt the change in the air? Were you the only one who could sense the tension? The sorrow? No one else seemed to notice that the ceiling was filling with ominously dark, grey clouds. Why were you the only one not clueless?
Suddenly, a bolt of lightning split the charmed sky.
No one jumped.
No one but you.
Sirius seemed to notice something was wrong.
“Hey, ‘Fly, you ok?” he asked, his eyes visibly yearning to be reading the magazine in front of him.
A part of you was insulted that a sport was more important to you, but that part was miniscule compared to the part that was annoyed he was acting like nothing wrong when something clearly was.
“Yeah, perfectly fine, Sirius,” you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm. He didn’t notice and turned back to his story.
Remus did, however. “You sure?” he asked.
“Yes I’m sure, does it look like anything is wrong?” you snapped. “Does Dumbledore look like he’s going to have a heart attack? No, I don’t think so.”<br>
He looked hurt for a minute, as if you’d whipped at him physically instead of verbally. Frowning slightly, he buried his nose back into the book he had been reading, obviously trying to block you out again. You sighed and were about to apologize when a bunch of gasps completely distracted you.
Looking up, you saw a pitch black raven that seemed to have burning red-and-still-somehow-blue eyes came soaring in the Great Hall. It circled above the millions of heads, before flying to the Gryffindor table and landing right in front of you.
It stared at you, and you managed to note why its eyes seemed two-toned to you at first. One eye was blue, the other red. That amused you greatly, until a sharp elbow dug into your side and you winced.
“What?” you hissed, turning to your left where James had seated himself without your knowledge.
“That’s a Mourner.” He looked at you, a deep sadness in his eyes. A pity. “It’s for you.”<br>
You felt your heart clench in horror. A Mourner, like a Howler, would self-destruct if it wasn’t opened or tried to be disposed of—or worse. Unlike a Howler, however, it wasn’t because someone was angry at you. Oh no. A Mourner was to tell you some news of great sorrow and destruction. The raven holding onto it, placed its foot out towards you, obviously wanting you to take it.
When you didn’t, it just moved closer, so that its foot was against your nearest hand. Apparently, it was used to the receivers not want to open the letter. Hands shaking, you slowly untied the letter from its ankle. As soon as it was free, the raven took off back into flight—giving a great screeching caw before flying off back into the storm.
You stared after it in shock, before looking back looking back at the dreaded envelope in your hand. It was a deep midnight blue—with a touch of indigo thrown in. It was a beautiful colour that served a horrible purpose. You flipped it over, not wanting the entire of Hogwarts to know whatever it was that the Mourner contained, and flinched at the site of the wax seal on it.
It was none other than the Grim stamped into black wax.
Bracing yourself for the unexpected, you quickly broke that seal, dropping the colourful envelope onto the plate. It burst into blue flames and disappeared…<br>
…but you didn’t see that.
Your eyes, an interesting combination of blue and violet, were already skimming the contents of the letter in your hands. Those eyes, which had enchanted many of the boys in Hogwarts and even other wizarding schools, filled with burning tears, which pushed against the barrier.
