SC FICTION: The Fall of the West

SUMMARY: An account of the Shadow King and the fall of the western kingdom as a storyteller might tell it.

History is made by people, the threads of their lives weaving together to form a tapestry either beautiful or terrifying. The king of the west added a dark thread to the picture; he is the enemy. The kings of the northern, middle, and southern kingdoms stood against him; they are our heroes… for the most part. But in particular, our story follows the thread of one man’s life; a life that would change the course of a war and bring peace after so many years of terror when no others could.

When our hero was still but a small child, the King of the West began to build up his forces. He conscripted young men, women even, from every household in every town and village; through force and through terror he brought them into his fold and trained them to fight.  In twos, tens, hundreds, thousands he sent them to the edges of their land, to their neighbors, and made war with his enemies, hoping to expand and gather more power to himself. But to his great rage, his enemies fought back with the ferocity of those defending their homes. Time and time again his forces were pushed back, but still he did not give up his plans.

Pulling his forces back and feigning defeat, the king sat it his tower by the sea and he plotted. He sent out spies into all corners of the land with one simple instruction; to find for him the one thing his enemies loved most. One by one they went and came back with their news.

The King of the North, they said, took great pride in his young son and heir, having several daughters before his son was born. Unlike the Midlands, the South, and the East, you see, they didn’t allow female succession.

The King of the Midlands was not yet married, being young yet, and loved mostly himself, taking great pride in his stamina and skill as a warrior.

The King of the South greatly loved his wife and young son.

Having failed to win his war by force, the King of the West choose to continue his war with terror, and chip away at the will and confidence of his enemies by threatening or destroying those things that were most held dear.

To the north and to the south he sent skilled thieves and assassins. To them was given the order to kill the Heir to the North and South, and to kill the Southern kings beloved wife. To the Midlands he sit another kind of assassin, not with orders to kill but to disable.

Without warning they came upon their targets, and no guards were able to stop them.

While walking through his gardens one day, the King of the Midlands was attacked. The assassin was killed by the king’s guards,  but not before irreparably destroying the Kings leg and arm. From that point forward, the King of the Midlands was skilled no more, not even able to walk without help.

While riding through the woods with his guard, as was his custom, the Heir to the North and his guard were killed by arrow. They were found later that day to the great grief of the king.

While traveling home from the eastern most portion of their land, the Queen of the South and her young son, then just five years of age, were set upon by a group of armed men. Through great skill and cunning, the agents of the west separated the queen from her protectors and they killed her.

But now is where are story starts to change, for in the confusion, the agents of the west lost sight of the young prince and were not able to find him before being driven back by his protectors.

For hours the guards searched for their prince, nearly giving up in despair, when finally they found him curled up near the body of his mother. Carefully picking their charge up, they brought him and the body of their Queen home.

The enemies of the west mourned their losses, and in the south, a young boy lit the flame of his mother’s pyre and tried to be brave. This young boy is the hero of our story. His name was Emrus.

The king of the south, Emrus’ father, was a shrewd warrior, and while his grief at the death of his wife was great, it did not dull his judgement.

Discerning the strategy of the King of the West, he sent his son and heir away, into hiding, where no man could find him save the king himself. So sending his son to safety, he turned his focus of doing battle with the King of the West.

For twelve long years the King of the South lead the charge against the King of the West, with neither making much headway against the other.

All the while, young Emrus was hidden away, growing up in secret… or was he?

Unbeknownst to even his closest advisors, when the boy had grown some and was no longer immediately recognizable, the King of the South brought his son home. Emrus and his caretakers were given positions as palace servants; Emrus took a position in the stables, where his father visited him regularly, and the two grew very close.

Now Emrus looked nothing like his father, which aided their charade greatly. No one looking at the stocky blond haired king would suspect the slight brown haired youth to be his son.

As time passed, Emrus gained more and more authority as a palace servant, until eventually he was given the position as their king’s squire; being taught and trained by the king himself for battle. All the while the king maintained the ruse that his son was still hidden away, even taking time now and then to visit him. All the while Emrus stayed at the palace and cemented his position as a servant in the minds of the people.

History does not tell us how many actually suspected, but it does indicate their illusion was quite strong, deceiving many of the kings closest advisors.

On and on this went until Emrus was 17 years of age, and had begun to grow strong both as a warrior and as a leader; having no lack of practice thanks to the King of the West.

Now the King of the West had learned much from his initial campaign, and had not yet tried such a thing again. Instead he continued his new campaign of terror against the kingdom. Small groups of highly trained men would attack outposts deep within enemy territory. Important officials and their families would be found dead within their homes. Soldiers prowled the borders, killing anyone who wandered into their range that didn’t belong; sometimes even their own people fell victim. Towns and villages near the border, such as this one here, dealt with raids in the middle of the night.

There were no great battles in this war, no great victories or defeats to point to, only slow destruction and terror that penetrated into the very hearts of the kingdoms.

The King of the West had learned his lesson indeed. Some say that the warlords learned their craft from him.

Now, every so often the King of the South would go to the border lands and assess the situation, provide support, and encourage the beleaguered villagers who refused to live anywhere else. After all, it was their home, was it not?

The King of the West came to understand that nothing he did caused the resolve of the South to falter. 

So when the days came for the King of the South to tour the borderlands, he sent his best men and assassins to do battle with the forces of the south.

The battle was fierce and without parallel in all the long 12 years of the war, and in the end the forces of the south were able to beat back the forces of the north but not before their king was gravely injured; far to injured to survive.

In a tent at the edge of the battle zone, the King of the South took his most trusted advisor in one hand, and his beloved squire in the other, and made known the secret they had worked so hard to keep. And so, revealing his son, the King of the South died.

Through their grief, Emrus and the king’s advisor devised a plan. The King of the West was a formidable enemy, even though they had defended their borders against him, and he had shown himself relentless in his goals. Instead of throwing away all the work that had gone into keeping Emrus hidden, they determined to use this to throw off the King of the West. Instead of ruling openly, Emrus would rule in shadow, as unknown to his subjects as he was to the King of the West.

For ten years Emrus ruled his land in secret and did battle with the King of the West, for the first time using his own tactics against him. For ten years the people of the south lived in doubt.

Emrus saw this in his people and knew time was short, for he did not lock himself away or hide in the palace, but, along with a well trusted guard, he traveled the lands, even into the western kingdom itself at times. He knew the fear, the despair, the hope, the joys, and the needs of his people perhaps better than any king before him.

In these years the kingdom was well ruled, and even despite the threat of the west, they began to rebuild and even prosper. And yet the threat was still there, the borderlands were a place of strife, and many began to doubt the very existence of their king.

Things were coming to a head, not only within the southern kingdom, but without. For nearly twenty years the King of the West had fought this battle, and while there was no waining of his determination, he was getting old and his time was running out. As this began to settle on the the old kings thoughts, his determination only strengthen to accomplish his goals and more and more he pushed towards open war for the first time in many years.

Bigger and bigger the raiding parties became, and longer the battles to stop them, until it was undeniable that they were at war. Still Emrus was not yet willing to give up his advantage.

With his trusted guard and friend, Emrus went to the governor of the borderlands, an old friend of his father’s who knew Emrus as the king’s squire, and he offered his assistance. Trained to lead, it was not long before Emrus was leading the governors forces with his blessing. Great was his ability on the battle field and he grew in renown among the people and became much loved by them; the people he had been traveling among and coming to know throughout the years.

Yet as the battles became more fierce and it became clear that soon the fate of their kingdom would hang in the balance, he saw his people’s spirit begin to wain as there was no sign of their king.

Emrus composed a message and sent it with a courier to the palace, to his chief advisor and one of the only men who knew him for who he really was. In his message was a plan, and the plan was as follows.

Before his father died, he had begun training a group of men meant to achieve similar feats inside the western kingdom as the forces of the West achieved inside the southern kingdom. After his father died, 

Emrus continue this goal, and this group of men became his own elite force; the only soldiers in the kingdom who knew their king.

Emrus called for them now, but this time not for raids against outposts, but to strike at the very heart of the west: their king. For over ten years they have been preparing for this end, and now the time had come.

While Emrus led his forces to battle at the border, supported by reinforcements from around the kingdom, his elite force would strike out at the King of the West himself. To make sure the distraction was as complete as he could make it, Emrus would fight, not as a well liked general, but as the King of the South.

Now you may have noticed that I have said nothing about the Midlands or the North, but they too were enemies of the West and had been holding their own for as long as the South.

In the over twenty years since the war began, though, neither the North or the Midlands had the ability to do much more than defend their own borders, being riddled with strife both within and without. If it had not been for the great courage of many fine men and women living near the borderlands, the King of the West might have conquered those lands, for the leadership of both the North and the Midlands was questionable at best.

It was a time of great change in both of those lands.

After the murder of the Heir to the North, the king retreated into his grief, giving more and more power to his generals and refusing all pressure to produce another heir, instead naming a distance relative, unknown to the court, as his heir. 

When the old king died and his heir came to the throne, many of the villagers, on the front lines and beyond, complained. They felt he was an interloper and didn’t belong and very few gave their support to him, or at least gave it without complaint. It wasn’t long before there was a revolt. For the next thirty or so years the land went through a succession of rulers until settling on what is actually the present line. Not that they haven’t had their share of conflicts, but mostly among themselves.

It is truly a testimony to the spirit of the people that they didn’t fall to the West in those days. The same can be said of the Midlands, for they dealt with their own power struggles after the injury of their king.

The will and strength of the Midlands king proved greater than many thought possible. While he struggled with his injuries he did not let them crush his spirit completely. Unfortunately, the same could not be said of his body. Crushed it was, and after only a year it gave up on him and the king died; still young, still unmarried, and still without an heir. The same power vacuum as in the north.

While not as bloody as the struggles of the North, the potential heirs of the south squabbled amongst themselves for years before the matter was settled. Still, even after the matter was settled, the south could do little but defend its borders, never having been one of the strongest military powers.

And so the south remained the greatest threat and greatest hope for all peoples in the battle against the west.

After conferring with his advisors and his generals, the plan was set for both the raid and the attack on the border forces of the west. And to the great delight of all his people, Emrus took up his place as king, coming out of the shadows, and led his army in full regalia.

The battle was a fierce one, the forces of both kingdoms advancing and retreating, advancing and retreating; the forces of the south drawing out the forces of the west. And when all eyes were on the battle of the borderlands, the elite forces of the south struck. Through subterfuge, diversion, and skill, they made their way into the very heart of the west, and there they struck down the King of the West, the man who have been the driving force of terror for so many years.

On the battlefield, the forces of the south dealt harsh blows to the leadership of the west, taking out some of their strongest leaders, but still the west fought on, even when word of their king’s death reached them. They fought without direction, but still they fought.

After seven long days, and great sacrifices on both sides, the forces of the south beat back what remained of the once great war machine of the west; they had achieved victory, though it would take three more long years before they could celebrate and peace returned to their lands.

In the end, the western kingdom became a protectorate of the south, though the people were now wild and unruly. Eventually the south pulled back, the land of the west becoming the wildlands of today; lawless, fractured, ever changing.

Emrus, the shadow king of the South, ruled from the shadows no longer; ruling in peace for another 41 years until his death, the rule of the kingdom passing to his firstborn son. Many knew him as Emrus the Wayfarer, for even in peace he liked to travel the roads of his kingdom, spending time with his people and hearing their tales.

And that, my friends, concludes the tale of the Fall of the West and of Emrus, the Shadow King of the South.

Fan-Fiction Recommendations: Stargate Atlantis

Stargate atlantis has (or had, it's been awhile since I really looked) some of the highest quality fan-fiction I think I've run across in the fandoms I haunt (Stargate, Star Wars, Harry Potter, etc). Not only do the authors nail the characters, but many of their stories are both long (often novel length), well plotted, and well written. Many of these stores that I've listed are a great pleasure to read, and they represent only a fraction of what I've encountered. I only wish this could be said of the other fandoms.

Listed is a link to the author's profile on fanfiction.net, and a sample list of their stories. Again, this represents only a fraction..

http://www.fanfiction.net/u/29228/

Plumber's Helper

That Which is Broken

Running on Empty

Candle in the Dark

The Killing Frost

Breathe

http://www.fanfiction.net/u/34863/

Choosing His Team

Hidden Resources

Failure to Communicate

Sheppard Moon

Figurative Hell and Literal High Water

http://www.fanfiction.net/u/7023/

Bee in the Bonnet

Paradise

Misconstrued

Ancient Devices

Stupid Stuff

http://www.fanfiction.net/u/755674/

Wait of Water

Tokens

Sentry Duty

Bugs in the System

Fall From Grace

http://www.fanfiction.net/u/599248/

Reflections

Flying Lessons

You Can't Just Walk Away

The Reluctant Hero

SC FICTION: The Sea King

SUMMARY: An account of one of the old kings as a storyteller might tell it.

A long, long time ago, in the old days, there was a king. Well, in fact he was THE king, for it was back in the time when there was one king over all the land.

This king had a passion for all kinds of ships, ships that went on lakes, ships that went on rivers, but especially ships that went on the sea.

When he was but a new king, a young man, he searched far and wide, and found men willing to pack up their ships and make sail, looking for new lands and other adventures.

Of those that returned, for there were those that didn’t, most brought news of failure, finding only seemingly endless sea. Most didn’t seem surprised by this, for don’t all the old tales say so?

There was one man though, a great captain, who set sail toward the west and upon returning brought news of land, many islands, uninhabited but less than a weeks sailing time away.

The king was ecstatic and greatly desired to see these islands for himself, but his advisors, in concern for their king’s safety, spent countless hours reminding the king that his duty lie with his people, not in seeking adventure. The king gave in to their concerns, or so it seemed.

Still with desire in his heart, the king devised a plan and brought it before his advisors. For five days and nights they argued and planed and calculated until it was decided that a small group would be gathered, volunteers from all over the kingdom, and they would be sent to these islands with supplies to fulfill their needs, and they would make a home there.

If this new colony lasted but a year, more people would be sent and it would be considered a new realm for the kingdom; a realm the king could visit anytime he wished.

All this was done at the kings command, and several month later a small group, 100 men, women, and youth, set sail to make a new home for themselves.

It was not easy for the settlers, and the islands showed themselves to be a harsh new land, full of dangers the settlers never fathomed. A harsh toll was paid, with many falling ill or injured, and many who died of their afflictions. But the settlers were a nobel lot, strong and stubborn, and no hardships were going to be their defeat.

When a year had passed, the small settlement was still there, a little battered and bruised, but fighting still. And as the king had promised, he sent more settlers and more supplies, and before long the settlement was thriving again, built on top of the hard earned knowledge of the brave men and woman who came first.

The settlement became as a jewel to the king and he visited his subjects there often with great pleasure and these islanders thrived under his leadership and care.

Years past, and the king grew old and eventually he died, passing his throne to his son; a son that did not have the same love of the sea as his father.

The settlement, once loved, was abandoned as a foolish venture, left to survive on its own. Some of the islanders left, returning to the mainland, but still more stayed, refusing to abandoned the only home many of them had known and had worked so hard to build. And there they lived, while on the mainland their very existence faded from all but the most studious of memories.

HP FICTION: Under Her Gaze

SUMMARY: Snapshot. Remus Lupin contemplates his Hogwarts acceptance letter.

DISCLAIMER: Hogwarts, and the rest of the Wizarding World belong to J.K. Rowlings.

The boy sat quietly under the tree, his back against the trunk so he could look out into the small clearing. A soft breeze ruffled his hair, providing a hint of coolness on what would otherwise have been an unbearably hot summer day. He had been in that spot for what seemed like hours, watching only absently the comings and going of the birds and the work of the bees as they flew from flower to flower. No matter the distraction, his mind and eyes kept drifting back to the parchment he clutched in his hand, the fulfillment of a long-time dream.

He still couldn't quite believe it. For as long as he remembered he had heard about Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Both his parents were magic, that is, able to see and do magic, and had attended the school themselves. There were times, when he was younger, when they would put him to bed by telling him stories about the grand castle that housed the wizard school, of its ever changing halls, moving staircases, and even about the ghosts who lived there. He had always loved these stories, letting them fill his mind with dreams of adventures that would probably never have been allowed had he actually attended the school. Being very young, he had longed for the day when he could attend and experience everything for himself, not understanding all the hard work that would come with it.

With time and circumstances, however, all that had changed. His parents rarely ever talked about their school days around him anymore, afraid it would upset him to be reminded of what he couldn't have. A place in Hogwarts would never be given to a monster like him. His parents had tried of course. They had pleaded and begged and tried every remedy available to them until they could afford it no longer. He had been poked, prodded, and forced to drink foul potions more times then he could count. Yet it had changed nothing. His dreams of experiencing the castle and having grand adventures had become just that, dreams.

He had once read a fairy tale where the young princess's beauty was ruled by the phases of the moon. As the moon waxed her beauty grew, to be revealed in full splendor when the moon reached its own fullness. As the moon waned, so did her beauty and health, until she was as a frail old woman. Awakening only at night, the princess lived her life under the watchful and controlling gaze of the moon, until the night came when the curse was lifted by the kiss of a prince.

The parchment crackled in the breeze, the neat letters wavering in his vision. He didn't believe in dreams coming true, not anymore, not for him; that was for the realm of fairy tales, not real life. There was nothing that would lift the moon's curse from him. He would live under its control for the rest of his life. But maybe… He straightened the parchment once more, reading the words again. Maybe that wasn't the dream that needed to come true.

In the fairy tale, it was the prince's compassion and love of the old woman that lifted the curse, his acceptance of her at her worst. If he could be accepted for who he was, as the letter suggested he might be, that could be enough. It wouldn't take away the pain of the transformation, but it might make it bearable; just as his parent's love had allowed him to forget, at times, the moon's control over him.

He allowed a small smile to escape, a spark of excitement lighting his eyes. Maybe those dreams weren't as impossible as he thought. He might yet experience all those adventures his young mind had conjured. The small smile became a grin as he remembered. Carefully folding the parchment, the boy jumped up and started running, disturbing the birds who had forgotten his presence in his stillness.

AUTHOR’S NOTES:

[1] I imagine Remus being about four or five when he was bitten. Having watched nieces and nephews growing up, I have a new understanding (and sometime awe) concerning the intelligence and imagination of children that age.

[2] The fairy tale Remus refers to is “Little Daylight” by George MacDonald. It is a version of Sleeping Beauty.

HP FICTION: New Glasses

By Aelthwyn

Author's Note: This is my first ever fan-fiction. It's based on JK Rowling's characters James, Sirius, Remus, Peter, and Lily from the Harry Potter universe. Just a little scene I imagined of a fun day in the life of the Marauders :) I hope I have done them justice.

. . . . . . . .

James squinted at The Daily Prophet over his morning toast.

"Anything interesting?" Sirius asked squishing onto the bench next to him.

"If someone would care to hand over my glasses maybe I could tell." James's tone sounded distracted as if engrossed in one of the columns.

Sirius snatched it from his hands, trailing it in the butter. "Well maybe I'd better read it to you then." He said genially, clearing his throat in preparation and perusing for a choice headline. James glared at him.

"What!" Sirius did his best 'I'm innocent' expression. "You must admit my version of Hogwarts a History last night was much more entertaining anyways."

Remus smirked. Peter grinned. James glared on icily.

Sirius' smile fell and he went on in earnest. "James I swear I didn't hide them! I told you last night!"

"After leading me to believe you had turned them into a glass and I'd spent hours when I could have been writing that essay helping the house elves wash up and attempting to un-transfigure all those glasses!"

"It's not my fault if you're gullible and paranoid of your own friends."

Peter snorted at this suggestion.

Meanwhile Remus had rescued the newspaper from Sirius' wrinkling grasp, smoothed it out, and wiped the butter off the Minister for Magic's nose on the back of the front page. He regarded Sirius with a rather sinister proffessorly look over his cup of tea.

Sirius let out an exasperated sigh and magicked a quill to write something on his napkin. "I say, you're rather perfecting that Moony, someday they might just have to make you a Prof." He tossed the napkin across at him. Remus glanced down.

I will not hide James' glasses.

I will not hide James' glasses.

I will not hide James' glasses.

He tossed it back at him with a laugh.

Just then a late owl swooped in from above and dropped something in James' lap. "Anyway, I won't be needing anyone to read to me today, no thanks to you lot." He unwrapped the little package. "I ordered a new pair." He explained pulling out a shiny pair of spectacles. They were sort of… rectangular this time, and they all stared at him awkwardly for a moment taking in his new look.

"Well I can see what you think." James sniffed. "So spare me your remarks. I just thought I'd try something different." He finished loftily. Remus handed back his paper to which he pointedly turned his attention.

Remus glanced at Sirius. Sirius glanced at Peter. Peter glanced at James and then back at Sirius who muttered something (James was ignoring them), while surreptitiously flicking his wand behind the convenient screen of the Prophet. A moment later they were all choking down laughter.

James stood with a feigned expression of indignation. "Fine friends you are." He declared turning to go, but ran into Lily just coming to join them.

"Oh! James, they came!" She smiled a little too brightly as Peter shook his head vigorously behind James' back.

"Good morning Lily. What do you think?" He asked.

"Well…," she turn his head from side to side as if inspecting them. "They'll take some getting used to, but….. I think they really suit you." She replied ducking behind him to slide into the spot he had just vacated.

"Well at least someone likes them." James said to his three friends. "And if you think they're so awful, perhaps you'll consider giving back my old ones. Anyway, I'm going to go finish that essay somewhere without you three sniggering at me." He fixed them with a stare over his new glasses, not quite as successful as Remus' and strode away to a splutter of laughter.

"Hey James! Nice glasses." They heard someone call from further down the table as he passed.

"You know I think he might have got those ones just to annoy us," said Remus.

"Or else he intends to impersonate McGonnegal." Peter giggled.

"Not in those!" Sirius grinned madly.

"Those can't be the ones he ordered." Lily cut in.

"No no." Sirius assured her. "They were rectangular." Another bout of sniggers possessed Peter.

"He did tell us he wanted to try something different." Remus' eyes glittered in amusement. "Thanks for playing along, you were perfect."

"Honestly, the four of you!" Lily exclaimed, though she couldn't help giggling herself. "You know he'll get you all back for this, and I'd rather not be included."

"Oh don't go fix them yet!" Peter begged as she looked about to go after James, but he was already out the door, so she gave up and took the plate Sirius had just served up for her.

"We really are going to have to get the old ones back now though." Said Sirius, "And I Didn't take them!"

"I suppose it must have been….." Peter stopped. "Well, he lost them sometime on Friday right?"

Remus shot him a knowing glance. "Yes, we'll have to do a thorough search, later."

"I suppose I could go sniff around….." Sirius began.

"No I will." Peter cut in. "We've got potions with Slytherin today and I'd rather miss it."

Lily gave him reproving glance, mixed with sympathy.

"All right, if you can't root them out we'll put our heads together again before dinner." Remus nodded to them.

"Well I don't know what you two are still sitting around here for, but I'm not going to miss the fun!" Sirius said getting up to head after James with a pile of toast in his hand. "Pardon us Lily." He bowed gallantly at her with a wicked grin on his face and the other two rose to follow him with nods and smiles wishing her a good morning.

. . . . . . . .

"We should make the map show things as well as people." Peter whispered to Remus as they exited the great hall.

"Yes but which things?" Remus replied, "There'd be too many among all the quills and fizzing whizbees in people's pockets."

"Oh."

Sirius was munching distractedly at his toast and craning his neck for their quarry. He tapped their shoulders before pointing at the door to the library.

James was just emerging, still apparently oblivious to the Hot Pink-Rhinestoned-Cats-Eye glasses perched upon his nose. All three nearly doubled over laughing and ducked behind a pillar as James turned their direction. The hall was starting to get thick with people heading toward their first classes and they watched as people gaped and prodded each other as James passed. Several more people 'complimented' James on his glasses with dubious expressions before he began glancing around suspiciously. Then a group of Slytherins suddenly barred his way, and Sirius nudged the others to sneak 'round and back him up.

"Nice specs, Potter!" one of them sneered.

"Why thank you." He replied with sarcastically sunny politeness, just to spite them.

"Going to start a girl's band?" another laughed.

His smile froze and he reached up suspiciously. Just then plastic flowers sprouted from the corners of his glasses and squirted the lot of them as Sirius and Remus appeared at each of his shoulders for the face off. In the cries and commotion that followed there was a sudden flash and several people tripped over someone who must have slipped in the puddle.

"Great look, Flower Pot!" one who hadn't gotten wet called as the Slytherins broke up in a mixture of curses and hysterics.

"Thanks, Pal." James said through gritted teeth shoving the ridiculous glasses at Sirius as he watched them depart. Sirius put them on and beamed 'round at them. They all burst into laughter clutching each other as they staggered down the hall.

Sirius reached for the classroom door, apparently with every intention of wearing them inside.

"Wait! Give them here!" James grabbed them. On the backside they did look vaguely rectangular and innocently black, so he didn't feel too bad about not realizing sooner. "All right change them back" he prodded Sirius.

"You wanted something different!" he insisted still laughing. "Anyway, serves you right for not believing your best friend!"

"All right, all right, I'm sorry." James said grinning and shaking his head.

"Serves him right for intending to annoy us with them too." Remus put in.

Sirius made an exaggerated mournful sigh as he halfheartedly raised his wand at the glasses.

"Don't worry Sirius" Peter whispered loud enough for James to hear "I got a picture."

James made a pretend clout at Peter's head and fixed the glasses himself. "Come on!" he said grabbing Peter and Sirius by the sleeves as Remus opened the door. He shot a wink at Remus, as he pushed Sirius in before him and muttered something behind his back. Sirius' eyebrows sprouted into one thick bushy mass as he slipped into his customary seat at the back of class. "How long till someone notices?" James whispered, grinning at Remus who slipped in quietly after them.

"Well Binns certainly won't" Remus muttered, with a light in his eye that bet James it would last till next class.

. . . . . . . .

"I don't know. I think I rather like them." James said looking at himself in the bathroom mirror later that afternoon.

Sirius snorted catching sight of his enormous unibrow which he'd been pretending not to notice all day, forcing the others to keep having to stifle fits of laughter during class.

"You can't be serious James. It's like, changing your nose or something!" he exclaimed indignantly.

"You just don't look like you." Peter said.

"People change their glasses all the time. You just have to get used to it." James replied. "I think they make me look more calculating, don't you think?" he tried out a glare over the top of the narrow flat rims.

"I don't know. I think I rather like this." Sirius threatened, mimicking James' inspection of himself.

"You wouldn't!" James and Peter both cried.

"Oh I'm sure he would." Said Remus dryly. He leaned on James' shoulder to get into the mirror frame along with them so he could stare at James pointedly in it "But if you insist on keeping these, I think one of us will have to actually confiscate them."

They stared at themselves, the four of them, for a moment and then broke into laughter again as Sirius made faces in the mirror, doing his best to imitate gorillas and trolls.

. . . . . . . .

"Why don't you just enchant them to look like your old ones?" Lily suggested over dinner that evening. "Not that these are bad, but, you know…"

"Oh, now it's a matter of principle." Remus explained, talking as if James wasn't there. "I'm sure he will eventually if we stop bugging him about it."

James gave a sort of noncommittal nod.

"Anyway, sorry about this morning, James." She said as she got up to leave, her eyes lit with the amusing memory.

"Don't apologize!" Sirius cried, "Old 'Flower Pot' here deserved every minute of that and you know it."

James laughed along with them, "That really was a brilliant touch. Totally caught me off guard when I started squirting them!" He grinned broadly.

"I wish you'd gotten a picture of their faces!" Sirius laughed.

"Well I would have if I hadn't been trodden on." Peter grumbled good-naturedly.

"I think Peter deserves a reward for braving the enemy ranks in this escapade" Remus clapped his arm round Peter's shoulder. "How about repaying him those sugar quills you owe him James?"

"What! Reward him for taking that picture!"

"It has been over a month you've owed me!" Peter piped up on cue.

"Oh….well all right." James relented as they all got up from the table.

"Meet you back in Gryffindor Tower." He waved them on as he turned to head toward the one-eyed-witch.

"Where are you going?" Lily asked confused.

"Uh…..Secret stash." James glanced furtively at the others.

"Top secret" Sirius added darkly, steering Lily back to the tower with them.

Five minutes later James dropped carefully to the ground of the passage to Honeydukes and saw glowing in the darkness his old round-rimed glasses, now enchanted to shine in rainbow color sitting atop a large bag of sweets. So that's where Peter was during Potions today! He must have scoured the grounds for them that afternoon. James inspected the bag. By the number of pepper-imps he figured Sirius must have sent him with a special order, and a donation, probably from James' wallet, for the sugar quills while he was at it. He grinned, pocketed the bag and switched his glasses before hurrying back after his friends.

Harry Potter: Response

Author’s Note:
This is a short story written in response to JKR’s October “Character Development.” It made no sense given what we were told in the books, and in my opinion, took away from the story. Take that as you will.

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Response…

Harry stood in front of the door to the Headmaster’s office. He wasn’t entirely sure he should be doing this. Asking Professor Dumbledore for advice about his problems with Lord Voldemort was one thing; questions of a personal nature were another.

Before he could turn around and make his way down the stairs, the door to the office opened and Dumbledore summoned him inside. Harry didn’t remember knocking.

“Ah Harry, how are you this evening?”

“Oh…good…sir”

“Is something troubling you?”

“Well…you see… the article in the daily prophet…well…”

Harry stumbled to a stop. He didn’t know how to ask. He needn’t have worried.

“Ah yes, a most interesting article.” Dumbledore looked amused. Harry couldn’t understand why. If Rita Skeeter had said things like that about him… not that she hadn’t come close. And then there was what she had said about Hermione. Harry knew she couldn’t be trusted, but he still wondered.

“I was wondering… sir… if any … well… if any…” Harry paused. “If any of it was true, sir”.

Dumbledore sighed, loosing the amusement he had shown earlier.

“The world is a complicated place Harry. Many of the facts Miss Skeeter presents in her article are true. Yet her interpretation of those facts… and her conclusions… Facts, Harry, can be interpreted many different ways, depending on the your goals. Interpretations must be tested. Let me ask you this, given what you know of me and Miss Skeeter, do you believe her interpretation of the facts?”

Harry looked down, thinking over the list of facts Skeeter presented in her article. Dumbledore’s association with Grindlewald was strange, he admitted. He wouldn’t have thought the professor would get involved with someone like him. Still, Skeeter’s reasons seemed a little far-fetched, given what little they know about what went on. It seemed very unlikely that he would follow Grindlewald because he was in love with him. There were other reasons Harry could think of that sounded much more like the Dumbledore he knew.

Harry looked up and met Dumbledore’s eyes.

“No, sir. I don’t believe she’s right.”

“Why then, do you think, she would say what she has”

“Well, it makes people question whether they know you, whether you have been honest with them. It would make her popular with the ministry, given your conflict with them… um… it would also get her a lot of attention.”

“Very good Harry… Always remember to think carefully over what you hear about others. Test it against what you, yourself, know. And don’t just doubt what you hear about your friends. Remember that the same thing happens to those you don’t know. Believing in things before you know the facts from the people involved can be very destructive.”

Dumbledore continued.

“Now, if I am not mistaken, you have a Quidditch game tomorrow to rest up for. You wouldn’t want to disappoint Professor McGonagall by falling asleep on your broom. You know how she delights in the game. Off you go…”

Harry heard the door shut behind him. He was glad he came. Now, he just needed to remember to look for his Quidditch robes before he went to bed…

--------------------------------------------

Back in the Headmaster’s office, Albus Dumbledore sat down at his desk with a sigh. He was weary. Rita Skeeter’s article was just the latest in a string of attacks against him. There seemed to be no end in sight, and also no depths his opponents wouldn’t sink to. If they would devote as much time to hunting down dark wizards as they did when making up these ridiculous stories… Albus sighed again. No matter. He allies stood with him. He would rest in that.

HP FICTION: The Problem with Words

Title: The Problem with Words
Timeframe: MWPP Era
Genre: General, Comedy (my version at least)
Summary: James, Peter, and Remus take a trip to the library.

Disclaimer: The Marauders, Hogwarts, and the rest of the Wizarding World belong to J.K. Rowlings. I should limit my comments to that lest I get myself in trouble :)

Note: I never posted this on fanfiction.net. I wrote this after reading lots of MWPP Era fan-fictions and hearing many "Sirius/Serious" jokes. It's possible it only makes sense to me :)

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“Ow! Peter that was my foot!” --James
“Sorry” -- Peter
“Sh, quiet... I thought I heard something.” --Remus
“Stop worrying, we’re not gonna get caught.” --James
“Easy for you to say, you’ve already got detention this week” --Remus
“Now who’s the one talking” --James
“grrrrr” --Remus
several minuets pass with only the sound of shoes on stone.
“You’re sure Sirius isn’t going to wake up?” --Remus
“Positive” --James
“He won’t like it if he finds we went out without him.” --Remus
“If no one tells him, he won’t find out.” --James
silence
“Why are we doing this again?” --Peter
“We’ve been over this. It’s for the good of the school” --James
“For the good of the school? I thought it was because you’re tired of... did you hear that?” --Remus
“Hear what? Your imagining things. Look...we’re almost there.” --James
“For your information, I have good hearing.” --Remus
“Um...I can’t get the door open guys. Do they lock it at night?” --Peter
“Lock the door to the Library? Why would they do that?” --James
“Maybe because they’re tired of books disappearing in the middle of the night?” --Remus
James glares at Remus who can’t see him in the dark.
“How do we get in?” --Peter
“If both of you will just stand aside.” --Remus
“Alohomora” --Remus
“I know there was a reason we brought you.” --James
“I still don’t understand. Why don’t we just do this in the morning?” --Peter
“Because then Sirius will be with us.” --James
“Why does it matter?” --Peter
“I’d feel like an idiot?” --James
“And of course detention is much better the feeling like an idiot, so...” --Remus
James glares at Remus who doesn’t appear to be paying attention.
“I think it would be in this section.” --Remus
“Is it that one?” --Peter
“Yah, this is it.” --Remus
“What does it say.” --James
“I wouldn’t know, I haven’t opened the book yet.” --Remus
“Well hurry up, we don’t have all night.” --James
“Patience, I have to find the right section.” --Remus
“Is it in alphabeticall order?” --Peter
“Of course.” --Remus
small amount of time passes.
“Found it yet.” --James
Remus glares at James.
“It wouldn’t be taking so long if I had enought light, but someone insisted...” --Remus
“Alright, alright, will you just find the information.” --James
“Okay here...um...this might be harder then we thought.” --Remus
“What is it?” --Peter
“Look at this list” --Remus
“Well, we’ll just have to try each of them. Do you have parchment with you?” --James
“And a quill?” --Peter
“Why would I?” --Remus
“Because that’s your job!” --James
“We’ll just have to take the book back with us.” --Remus
“But He’ll see it!” --James
“Quiet! It’s just a risk we’ll have to take.” --Remus
“Ok, fine. But if he finds out, I’m blaiming it all on you.” --James
“Fine.” --Remus
“Are we going now? I thought I heard something” --Peter
“Not you too!?” --James
“Oh come on!” --Remus
“Don’t forget to relock the door.” --James
“Ow, Peter will you please watch where you’re going.” --Remus
“Sorry, but it’s so dark.” --Peter

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Sirius Black woke the next morning and found his friend’s beds empty. He wondered where they were. They usually didn’t get up any earlier than him. Getting dressed and wandering down to the common room he found them. They were over at one of the corner tables, asleep. A large book was open on the table in front of them and he could see James’ invisibility cloak draped across the back of his chair. Careful not to disturbed them, Sirius looked to see what they were reading...

Lily Evens was just coming into the common room when Sirius rushed past her, almost knocking her over. She looked back, confused, ‘What was that about’. Her confusion only increased when she heard laughter coming from the boy’s dormitory. Determined to find out what this was all about, she walked over to the remaining Marauders, who were still asleep. Just as Sirius before her, she looked down to read from the open book on the table and had to stifle a laugh. What she saw was this...

Thomas’ All-Purpose Thesaurus (for wizards and witches of all ages)
  SERIOUS (adj.)
   Can mean:
    grave (adj.) and has synonyms:
     grave
     solemn
     somber
     stern
     grim
     severe
     staid
     sober 
     unsmiling
     humorless
    important (adj.) and has synonyms:
     important
     momentous
     significant
     crucial
     vital
     critical
     considerable
     major
     fundamental
    acute (adj.) and has synonyms:
     acute
     life-threatening
     dangerous
     critical
    earnest (adj.) and has synonyms:
     earnest
     sincere
     genuine
     honest
     resolute
     decided
     determined
    thought-provoking (adj.) and has synonyms:
     thought-provoking
     meaningful
     intense
     deep
     profound
     powerful
    Antonyms and has synonyms:
     funny
     trivial
     minor
     flippant

THE END

SW FICTION: Thoughts of a Perspective Apprentice

Disclaimer: The Star Wars Universe, Jedi, etc. do not belong to me however much I would like them to. It is with great reluctance, then, that I admit that they belong to George Lucus. Kyda and Tenel Malik, I suppose, belong to me. At least I made up their names and some of their thoughts.

I really didn’t put much thought into this fic (especially the end) so don’t expect much.

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Thoughts of a Perspective Apprentice

The last of the training remotes fell to the ground as Kyda shut down her lightsaber. She had been able to block most of the shots the remotes had aimed at her, but her arm and leg were still sore from the few times the blasts had gotten though her defenses. It was a good thing they were set to low power.

Rubbing her arm and carefully sitting down at the edge of the practice room, Kyda let herself give into some of the frustration that had been creeping into her mind since the middle of the last exercise. She shouldn’t have missed any of those shots. She was a senior student at the Jedi Temple, ready to be taken as an apprentice to a Jedi Knight. That is...

Kyda tried to push the thought out of her mind. She didn’t want to think about tomorrow. Yet she knew it was impossible. Her thoughts had been so preoccupied lately with what she saw as her impending doom that she couldn’t even focus on an exercise she had performed flawlessly countless times before.

Tomorrow she was scheduled to duel with another of her agemates in front of Jedi Knight Tenel Malik, who had come to the temple in search of an apprentice. This alone was not strange. Kyda had dueled many times for masters in the hopes of becoming an apprentice ever since reaching the rank of senior student. Just as she would continue doing if tomorrow’s duel didn’t result in her becoming an apprentice. There was, supposedly, no hurry. After all, she still had time. She wouldn’t turn thirteen for another year. Many masters would come searching for apprentices in that time. She was certain that one would choose her. She would be a Jedi Knight whether or not she impressed Knight Malik tomorrow.

Yet, ever since she had been informed of this duel, she had the feeling that the Force was telling her that she needed to be accepted as Knight Malik’s apprentice. Kyda had never met her, not even heard of her before, yet when her name was mentioned she felt a strange connection with this knight. The name and the feelings that came with it seemed familiar to her even though there was no reason they should be.

Tenel Malik was, Kyda discovered, considered one of the more solitary members of the order. This explained why Kyda had never heard of her. She did not often return to the temple, nor work with others. She preferred the freedom working along gave. It was a shock (a pleasant shock in the mind of the Jedi Council), then, when she announced her intention of taking an apprentice.

Kyda knew she didn’t exactly fit the description of the perfect apprentice for Knight Malik. Not only was the knight considered solitary, she was considered to be one of the better duelers in the order. Her missions often reflected this fact. Her apprentice would need to be able to handle themselves in difficult situations from the beginning. They would need to be quite accomplished with a lightsaber. Anything less would waste the skills of the knight.

While Kyda was good with a lightsaber, she wasn’t as good as some of the others. It was possible for her to get distracted and fail at simple exercises as she proved earlier. In fact, Jacen Kendle, the student she would fight in the morning, was much better then she was. He had always been ahead of her in lightsaber skills and agility. She couldn’t escape the feeling, though, that despite all this she was the one who should be picked. She also couldn’t escape the feeling that Knight Malik wouldn’t see it her way. Kyda had always gotten the impression that knights choosing their first apprentice had higher expectations than those who had already trained an apprentice.

Kyda’s thoughts would have continued on this line for hours more, only increasing her nervousness and sense of doom, if she hadn’t be interrupted by someone entering the practice room she occupied.

The woman was tall with long dark blond hair and, like Kyda, human. She wore the traditional garb of the Jedi and had the air of an experienced knight. Coming fully into the room, allowing the door to close behind her, the knight took in her surroundings. When her eyes finally locked with Kyda’s and she smiled, Kyda felt a jolt run though her entire body. In that moment she knew, without a doubt, who the knight was. She also knew that she need not worry about her future any longer.

THE END

SW FICTION: Reflections

AUTHOR'S NOTE:
03/26/06: I'm not sure when this was actually written but it was posted to fanfiction.net on June 28th, 2003. It was the first fan-fiction I wrote (not that I've written that many since, but...). I still think it's good, but perhaps that's because it's the first :)

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Unfortunately I do not own Star Wars, either the name or the universe. That privilege belongs to Lucas. I intend to make no money or anything of that sort, like I even could. Writing and posting this story is purely for my own enjoyment and, I hope, for the enjoyment of others.

Now, on to my own comments. I have to say this for my own sake. Yes I know about green squadron but I chose to ignore my previous knowledge for this story because I needed a squadron name and I liked that one. I am also aware that the story is kind of corny in some parts (especially the last few sentences), but I couldn't think of how to write a better ending at the time. I probably shouldn't be saying any of this and just let you deal with it on your own but... oh well.

Reviews are, of course, welcome. I would like to write much more and need all the help I can get :) Especially when it comes to technical stuff. I never did get off the training levels of the X-Wing game. I'll have to read the X-Wing books again to refresh my memory on how to fly...

Now, to the story...


Reflections

As far as I could tell, I had been floating there, conscious, for hours before they came and pulled me out. The fact that I could barely remember who I was didn't bother me too much; I was too relieved to be out of the Bacta. When memory finally returned, first just trickling in and then in an unwelcome flood, I was able to at least ask the medic how the rest of my people were.

"They're fine, the last one came out of the Bacta a day ago," the sandy haired medic said. Brian, I remembered his name was.

"Just for good measure I'd like to ask you some questions." Brian said.

"Okay." I replied

"What is your name and rank?" Simple question. I still hesitated.

"Commander Cathren Collins." I said.

"How old are you Commander?"

"21"

"Good. You're going to have to stay here a little while longer, so why don't you just lie down and rest." He said and left. Why was it Medics were always in a hurry?

Lying down on the bed they offered me I began to review the events that had brought me here. People came and went, many of them giving me a better picture of what had transpired.

My squadron, Green Squadron by name, had set off from the _Freedom_ (our base) on a routine run on an unarmed Imperial convoy. It had started out fairly well. Our twelve x-wings jumped out of hyperspace right on target. The y-wings, on lone to us from Champion Squadron, disabled the freighter in minuets. Just when I was about to give the command to jump back into Hyperspace (with the Freighter, of course), two more freighters jumped into the system. Rather than risk the loss of people and equipment, I gave the order that as soon as they were clear, they were to make the jump. We never got the chance. Coming out of nowhere, the Ties were on us before we realized what had happened.

Putting my x-wing in a tight loop to the right, I tried to lose the Tie that had somehow come up behind me.

"On my mark three, dive to the left." My cockpit com squawked. To my right I saw an explosion that could only have been the Tie that had been following Green Three.

"Nice Job Six." I said.

A torrent of laser fire hitting my back shields snapped me back to my own problem. Putting all power to the back shields, I sidestepped my x-wing to the left. Completing the maneuver I cut all power to the engines and put on the reverse thrust. The result? My x-wing stopped dead in space. Laser fire bombarded my shields, but they held and just as I expected, the Tie, going to fast, overshot me. Getting my x-wing back to normal speed I came up in back of the Tie and with practiced ease, centered the cross-hairs on the ball cockpit and fired. The explosion was more spectacular than I could have hoped for.

"Nice Shot." The teasing voice of Green Five, my older brother, said.

Currently clear, I took the opportunity to assess the situation. My pilots were handling themselves well. Out of the original 24 Ties only 10 remained and from what I could see we had only lost one pilot. Puling up the file I saw that it was Ceren Kess, one of the new pilots and it was with great relief that I saw he was able to eject.

As I put my x-wing on a course that would take me back to the main battle, I saw another of my pilots go down (also ejected). Maybe it was because of my focusing on the battle ahead that I didn't notice the Tie had slipped behind me (I realized later that my R2 did not warn me). Situational Awareness is what they say keeps a pilot alive. In my case, its momentary laps nearly got me killed. Before I knew what was happening my shields had fallen and my x-wing was starting to fall apart.

I still don't remember ejecting, but my whole squadron says I did. So I will just have to take their word for it.

One of my pilots sent a distress signal to the _Freedom_, as I was told later. The _Freedom_ came, it seems, and retrieved all of its floating pilots, faithfully making sure that we were well taken care of.

Funny as it seems, I actually enjoy what I do. To me freedom is worth spending a few days in a Bacta tank and yes, even worth paying for with my life.

-THE END-