Trinity Angles (Discussion Thread)

[Arbitrarity]

Apocrypha is actually the easiest one to do: [...] then Shirou Amakusa Tokisada is in for a very bad day, and Ilya will be perfectly happy to let Jeanne mediate, if she wants to.

Or you can have some mix of characters-as-Servants and characters-as-Masters, though I suppose Ilya wouldn't stand for Shirou being Archer-ified. Feels a bit weird since you just did Anarchy, which was loosely in the same setting. It certainly has the most obvious support for introducing a wide cast.

EXTRA/Extella would let me bypass a lot of issues, being basically virtual; not many of the Seven would be capable code-casters, but they'd have the experience. The "single-player deathmatch" format, though, is an issue . . .

Extella doesn't really have 1v1 deathmatches, unlike Extra. It's a Musou-style, hack and slash, big battlefields, territory control. The original plot is very Hakuno-specific though, and would require adaption. I guess you can split the Seven up in a similar sort of way (Red/Blue/Green), which could work? Throw Galen and Luna with Altera, mix up the rest. It's also quite short.

Prisma Illya already involves multiple worlds, so it's not an impossible reach. It's still ongoing, though, which bothers me. Plus, Ilya would be 10 again, and REALLY not happy about it.

Depends on where you want to drop into it. Arguably, you could make Ilya and Shirou the parents? It seems a bit crowded to drop everyone in, but might be the right scope in the Ainsworths' world.

Strange Fake is weird, even by my standards - and connected to FGO, via Babylonia. While that's a nice sequel hook, I'm not sure it's a good idea.

Haven't read this yet, so fairly unsure. It seems quite complicated, but also of a scale that could work.

Redline is an isekai story already, and one whose premise doesn't make a hell of a lot of sense (why would a light novel based on the main character's magus family history be allowed to exist, given the "preservation of the mystics" - and God, do I hate that translation

I'm assuming that should have been translated as "Preservation of Mystery". Also not really sure about this one with the wider cast. You're thinking of putting them on opposite sides, and... yeah, that might be a good way to fit the cast.

And, of course, there's F/GO - the kitchen sink which absolutely would allow this kind of thing to happen, but is intimidatingly complicated, and LONG to adapt . . .

Depends on how you want to do it. You can just imply a lot of the story if you drop them in later, or make it more of an event than messing with the main story. Though now I'm imagining them as the Crypters, which would be... huh. I'm not sure I understand enough yet to say whether that makes sense, since I haven't read LB6/7, but that could be an interesting perspective.

. . . There are other issues, of course: Hermione's vampirism,

Dead Apostles exist, but it seems like a much harder thing to deal with in a Fate or Tsukihime world. Arguably, you might be able to weaken how powerful the thirst is within a Fate world, but their current solution may not suffice. There's also whatever Consort Yu is doing. Being in a virtual world solves this, of course.

how each one slots into Clock Tower politics (or doesn't)

Politics makes me wonder about Case Files, but it's ruled out due to the lack of Grail War, gotcha.

I can sort of visualize a few of these, but others, I might need more specifics. Prisma Ilya could be interesting exploring some of those parenting/guiding themes. Extella could be a very short crossover, if you felt like doing that. I'm giggling a bit about the idea of putting the Seven in the Crypters' spot; only one that seems really tricky is LB4... maybe a straight Neville/Luna/Ginny/Galen/Hermione/Shirou/Takara? Might work better as snippets than actual long-form idea though.
I'm not sure I'm more enthusiastic about these than what you're doing with Alex or Persona 5 right now.

[Kieran]

Sorry for the delay in response - my mother decided that between my assembling my Christmas present (a LEGO "Dumbledore's Tower" set), and Dad putting together the LEGO Hogwarts Express, there was too much Harry Potter stuff in the house, so as it had been a few years, it was time to re-marathon the movies . . . Which really only spurs my impetus to keep going here, even as it eats away at my writing time.

Or you can have some mix of characters-as-Servants and characters-as-Masters, though I suppose Ilya wouldn't stand for Shirou being Archer-ified.

Or becoming a Lesser Grail, herself.

Feels a bit weird since you just did Anarchy, which was loosely in the same setting.

Agreed, but this one I could play a bit straighter, since I wouldn't need to deal with Scions or Exalts.

It certainly has the most obvious support for introducing a wide cast.

Yes, and it involves a team effort, unlike most such stories in the Nasuverse - less hand-waving necessary on my part.

Extella doesn't really have 1v1 deathmatches, unlike Extra. It's a Musou-style, hack and slash, big battlefields, territory control.

This is true, though it does canonically follow on from (a version of) EXTRA's plotline, which is the primary issue.

The original plot is very Hakuno-specific though, and would require adaption.

Yes, that's the other major problem . . .

I guess you can split the Seven up in a similar sort of way (Red/Blue/Green), which could work? Throw Galen and Luna with Altera, mix up the rest.

. . . And now I'm seeing Luna as hosting Jeanne d'Arc - I'm not sure whether to laugh or feel sorry for the Ruler.

It's also quite short.

Unless I bring in Extella/Link, anyways - but that reuses a lot of story beats, anyway.

Depends on where you want to drop into it. Arguably, you could make Ilya and Shirou the parents?

Fate/kaleid liner Prisma Ai . . .? It might work . . .

It seems a bit crowded to drop everyone in, but might be the right scope in the Ainsworths' world.

True - though that world is also insane, in a lot of ways.

Haven't read this yet, so fairly unsure. It seems quite complicated, but also of a scale that could work.

Exactly. The only thing really going for it that I can think of is that at least part of the plot revolves around

Strange Fake plot spoiler!

exposing magecraft to the wider world.

And as that is an element I've brought up in Trinity before . . .

I'm assuming that should have been translated as "Preservation of Mystery".

Yes - which makes it painful to hear every time they use THAT.

Also not really sure about this one with the wider cast. You're thinking of putting them on opposite sides, and... yeah, that might be a good way to fit the cast.

It'd at least be a place to start . . .

Depends on how you want to do it. You can just imply a lot of the story if you drop them in later, or make it more of an event than messing with the main story. Though now I'm imagining them as the Crypters, which would be... huh. I'm not sure I understand enough yet to say whether that makes sense, since I haven't read LB6/7, but that could be an interesting perspective.

It would be different, at least - and possibly more amusing if Ilya was the seventh, and Galen was the "Foreign God" . . .

Dead Apostles exist, but it seems like a much harder thing to deal with in a Fate or Tsukihime world.

Yes - which is a major argument against this (see previous note about "crapsack world.")

Arguably, you might be able to weaken how powerful the thirst is within a Fate world, but their current solution may not suffice.

The remake has a few more degrees to Dead Apostles (literally) - I suspect she'd be a Stage IV . . .?

There's also whatever Consort Yu is doing.

Plot twist: ascending to the Throne renders Hermione as a human Caster, because her most popular epithet is "The Brightest Witch of Her Age" - with the possible drawback being that Servant Hermione Granger's background is drawn from the Rowlingverse canon . . .?

Being in a virtual world solves this, of course.

This is true.

Politics makes me wonder about Case Files, but it's ruled out due to the lack of Grail War, gotcha.

Well, that, and that the Grail War that does involve it would involve crossing Shirou and Ilya's own timeline again . . . Once more - if she winds up being a twelve-year-old again, she will NOT be happy . . . And she's liable to have Herakles around to express it with.

I can sort of visualize a few of these, but others, I might need more specifics. Prisma Ilya could be interesting exploring some of those parenting/guiding themes.

This is true - though moreso in Illyasviel's world than Miyu's, probably.

Extella could be a very short crossover, if you felt like doing that.

Perhaps - on the other hand, I'm constantly writing things longer than I expect to . . .

[
QUOTE]I'm giggling a bit about the idea of putting the Seven in the Crypters' spot;[/QUOTE]

I can fully understand why.

only one that seems really tricky is LB4... maybe a straight Neville/Luna/Ginny/Galen/Hermione/Shirou/Takara?

I'm not sure I catch your meaning with that question?

Might work better as snippets than actual long-form idea though.

True . . .

I'm not sure I'm more enthusiastic about these than what you're doing with Alex or Persona 5 right now.

Good to know, and thank you.

[Arbitrarity]

Or becoming a Lesser Grail, herself.

It's not even like there explicitly IS one of those in Apocrypha, but yes, she really wouldn't like that. I always thought it was interesting Yggdermillenia had similar homunculi.

The remake has a few more degrees to Dead Apostles (literally) - I suspect she'd be a Stage IV . . .?

Arguably 5 with shapeshifting, but that may be a bit weaker than the sort of powers they're talking about.

Plot twist: ascending to the Throne renders Hermione as a human Caster, because her most popular epithet is "The Brightest Witch of Her Age" - with the possible drawback being that Servant Hermione Granger's background is drawn from the Rowlingverse canon . . .?

Modern heroes lack Mystery, so she'd likely be incredibly weak. Harry has all the fancy artifacts and feats in canon. General HP spellcasting, Polyjuice, and a Bag of Holding are neat, but not really going to stand up that well.

I'm not sure I catch your meaning with that question?

I was speculatively mapping Lostbelts to characters-as-Crypters, 1-7. Neville seemed like the obvious person to put in Kadoc's spot, and sticking Shirou in Avalon seemed fun. I thought Luna might get along well with Skadi, and Ginny could give a good spirited defense of "why is your world better than ours?" Lostbelt 4 felt like no one really made sense to put there, though I suppose Ilya or Takara might work.

[Kieran]

It's not even like there explicitly IS one of those in Apocrypha, but yes, she really wouldn't like that. I always thought it was interesting Yggdermillenia had similar homunculi.

. . . Oh, God - Ilya would be Sieg, wouldn't she? *Facepalms*

. . . Even worse - that's actually kind of motivating me to do it!

Arguably 5 with shapeshifting, but that may be a bit weaker than the sort of powers they're talking about.

I did consider that, and I'm not sure, either - it would tie into Hermione's power level vis a vis revenant vampires in her home setting, but I'm not sure if that tips her human/vampire balance too far . . .

Modern heroes lack Mystery, so she'd likely be incredibly weak. Harry has all the fancy artifacts and feats in canon. General HP spellcasting, Polyjuice, and a Bag of Holding are neat, but not really going to stand up that well.

Probably not, no - but it's amusing to think about.

I was speculatively mapping Lostbelts to characters-as-Crypters, 1-7. Neville seemed like the obvious person to put in Kadoc's spot, and sticking Shirou in Avalon seemed fun. I thought Luna might get along well with Skadi, and Ginny could give a good spirited defense of "why is your world better than ours?" Lostbelt 4 felt like no one really made sense to put there, though I suppose Ilya or Takara might work.

Ahhh . . . All right, that makes sense. I was thinking they'd take on the Singularities as the Crypters (I did kind of do that before, after all).






I will try to have a snippet finished and up tonight, but I still have one movie to go - if not, I'll get it up ASAP.

[Xamusel]

Hey, Kieran, your latest post was a reference to a novel of the same name. Just thought I'd point that out.

...for those that don't get it, look for the post number right above this post, guys.

[Kieran]

Hey, Kieran, your latest post was a reference to a novel of the same name. Just thought I'd point that out.

...for those that don't get it, look for the post number right above this post, guys.

So it is - I haven't read that book since high school . . .


Insofar as the next bit of this goes, I have most of a scene done - and in an effort to direct things a bit, is there anyone whose perspective you'd especially like to see? Any of the Seven, Alex and/or one of his friends, or our theatrical interlopers, perhaps . . .?

[Arbitrarity]

Insofar as the next bit of this goes, I have most of a scene done - and in an effort to direct things a bit, is there anyone whose perspective you'd especially like to see? Any of the Seven, Alex and/or one of his friends, or our theatrical interlopers, perhaps . . .?

Tough call. Scorpius and Albus feels like possibly revealing too much too early; I'd expect to question them, but not necessarily get complete or truthful answers. Miyu presents a similar issue.
We haven't seen Rowan's perspective yet, though she may just be an inscrutable force of nature until she has a moment where she needs to reflect.
So then we have Hermione, who is probably going to be doing the interrogating anyways. Galen is away. I could see Hermione consulting with Ilya or Takara pretty naturally. Might be interesting to get a look at Ilya and Shirou.

I suspect we may not have a very natural way to get Neville, Ginny, or Luna's perspectives. I do kind of want to see Ginny and Rowan interact at some point. Maybe they'd be helpful for talking to Scorpius and Albus?

[Kieran]

Hogwarts Castle, Scotland
November 24, 2005








“’Mio-neechan . . .”

Aozaki’s voice was so soft that Rowan barely heard it—which was saying something, in her opinion. She didn’t think he even realised he’d spoken, and a glance back basically confirmed that.

Those startlingly sky-blue eyes—his entire focus—was directed at the witch on the far side of the courtyard.

She was pretty, the lycan guessed, in that goth, “terminally-ill girl” sort of way. Her skin (what Rowan could see of it, given the layers she was wearing) was a chalky white, letting the dark circles under her eyes stand out even at this distance when she removed her sunglasses. It was too far to see what colour they were for sure, but her hair fell in chestnut waves to her shoulders, a light gilding visible when the sun hit it at the right angle. The wind carried her scent; she smelled of lycan (not lycan herself, but around one or more of them enough to leave a tangible trace), parchment and vanilla, along with a sickly overtone that all but announced her ill health. A melancholy air clung to her like a shroud . . .

Despite that, though, she moved like a hunting cat, all coordination and grace, muscle rippling across her body in a way that implied she was much stronger and more solid than her slender build implied. Her wand movements were quick and textbook perfect—and while Rowan couldn’t make out what she was actually saying, her tone of voice came across as knowing and ever so slightly posh, speaking confidently to teachers decades older than she was. Heck, they were probably loads older than Rowan, along with all her friends, put together with the witch! And even more startlingly, they still seemed to just accept whatever she said!

Aozaki had claimed that she was “Aunt Hermione,” but he called her “Nee-chan,” which Rowan had learned was Japanese for “big sister”—she wasn’t Takara Salvatore, but he spoke about her with that same title, that same respect . . .

That same longing.

Rowan, honestly, didn’t get it. To her, Takara was the witch, sure, but Aozaki was her little brother—and going by her experiences with Alfie, little brothers and big sisters mostly fought like cats in a sack. It generally made her glad she was an only child, really. Still, she supposed that maybe Takara would be cool enough to deserve that, if any big sister would . . . But then who the heck was this? How did an aunt rate such a close title?

. . . And then Alfie mentioned autographs, and Rowan got it.

She wasn’t as big into collecting Chocolate Frog Cards as he was, but she did try to grab all the “Heroes of Hogwarts” set, so she knew Hermione Granger’s name—and Rowan remembered it for reasons other than the high grades.

Unlike most lycans, Rowan had been born what she was—and she’d been lucky enough that even before the cure, Wolfsbane Potion had been commonly available from as far back as she could remember. But her mother had grown up differently, and Rowan’s parents knew exactly how much difference there was between now and how their lives could have gone . . . And they who they had to thank for it.

Takara Aozaki had invented the cure for lycanthropy, but Hermione Granger had invented LAPIS—while she was still in school!

Sure, most people remembered Baroness von Einzbern when they thought of the group (she was kind of hard to forget, after all). Or Augusta Longbottom, if they looked at the Ministry paperwork—but it was Hermione who’d had the idea and started it going, even if she’d handed it off to adults who could do more with it, later. Even Takara admitted that LAPIS had been a big help in her research towards the cure. And even though “werewolves” were a thing of the past, it continued working to help peacefully integrate lycans into the wizarding world.

OK, Rowan admitted to herself, I do kind of get it now . . .

Then she spotted someone else headed for the group and panicked—of all the people to wander over, it just had to be the one professor it was harder to hide from than Lupin . . .!








“It’s rare to see you here, Hermione,” Neville remarked as he walked into casual conversation range. “What brings you by?”

Not an immediate emergency, he was sure—or else she would’ve called him even if the Headmistress hadn’t—but anything that brought her out in daylight was generally worth worrying about.

And, Neville admitted, that bloody alarm . . .

It had sounded ridiculous, when Galen had proposed it—how often did he think Time-Turners were going to be used at Hogwarts, much less Time-Turners unauthorised to be used? Honestly, he suspected McGonagall had let him put it up just because it wouldn’t hurt anything as for any other reason. Hell, even Galen himself admitted that the need for it was unlikely, because the only reason he could think of to need one wasn’t going to happen . . .

And yet, off it had gone, and Hermione, not Galen, was the one to answer it—

She turned to face him. “Hello there, Neville!” Darting forward, she wrapped him in a hug—and though his bones remained unbroken, they did creak ominously for a beat.

Leaning into him, she whispered, “We’re being watched—my five o’clock.”

One advantage of being so tall was that you had to look down to meet almost everyone face-to-face—which made rolling his eyes up easy to conceal.

“I can see Mister Aozaki and Miss Copper, but it’s too far into the shadows for me to be sure it’s just them,” he murmured. “I’m impressed—they’re out of the wind, and at this distance, I’d have thought it was too far for heartbeats . . .?”

“Not without concentrating,” Hermione admitted, “but lycan blood always catches my attention—and there are four of them there, by the way.”

He wasn’t sure whether to be amused or disturbed by the fact that she’d basically told him, offhandedly, that the smell of her favourite food was what had given them away . . .

Pulling away to study him critically, the vampire witch commented in a normal tone of voice, “Professorship obviously agrees with you, Neville; you’re looking rather sharp. . .” In a more critical tone, she added, “A bit peaky, though—is it the kids here, or at home?”

Neville grimaced. The twins were getting better, but they had yet to master fully sleeping through the night yet.

Still, he made himself smile for Hermione, and said lightly, “As though the kids here could be anywhere near as much trouble as we were.”

“Speak for yourself,” Hermione riposted with a mock glare, in a highly offended tone that he was certain was only partly feigned. “I was a model student.”

She held the look for a beat, before they both began laughing.

In a lower tone—quiet enough that he was certain even eavesdropping lycans would overhear at that distance—Neville murmured, “How bad is it, Hermione . . .?”

“I’m honestly too puzzled to be sure,” came her answer, at a similar volume.

“But after you roust those lurking truants,” she added seriously, “you had better fire-call your wife.”








There was something ironic, she felt, in the fact that Hermione’s first comment upon seeing her enter the Hospital Wing was “You look positively ghastly, Ginny—are you alright?”

“I will be, when the twins start sleeping through the night,” she grumbled.

“Neville hinted as much,” Hermione remarked, nodding in that sympathetic-but-noncommittal way that people who weren’t parents of six-week-old newborns had. Ginny scowled, but didn’t remark on it, as Hermione was liable to find out for herself soon enough—Takara was due in April, after all . . .

“You know I’m still on maternity leave,” the redhead said instead, “so why, exactly, am I here . . .?”

“Partly because I couldn’t turn this over to Tonks, much less anyone else in the DMLE,” Hermione explained. “And while the Department of Mysteries might have precedence in this, Galen is the only one I’d trust with it—and he’s currently unavailable. And . . .” She hesitated.

Ginny’s patience was thin, at this point. Nevertheless, the Auror instinctively drew on her Occlumency training to keep her reactions controlled.

“‘And,’ Hermione?” she prompted.

The vampire witch’s eyes glanced around the room, as though she wanted to reassure herself that they were alone—and even then, her reply was in Japanese.

“And given who we’re dealing with, here, I wanted to have as many faces that they’d find familiar around as I possibly could,” she answered quietly. “You’re one of the few I could be absolutely sure they’d recognise.”

Ginny was no Legilimens and wouldn’t have dared to test Hermione’s Occlumency even if she had been one; she was a trained investigator, however, and she knew that she wasn’t getting told everything. It was just a question of why . . .

The simplest explanation is that she doesn’t trust the ears in the walls; fair enough, we never did, really, and as grown adults, we stand out a lot more in Hogwarts when we’re being secretive—no way to lose ourselves in the crowds of students. Of course, it could also be that she figures that what I don’t know, I can’t be forced to testify about—Merlin knows, Galen’s used that dodge a time or three, and Hermione’s too smart not to use that tactic if she thinks she needs it.

But what, specifically, would cause her to . . .?

It could, the red-haired witch admitted to herself, simply be that she didn’t want to force Ginny to hand over the case to the proper authorities, as her job might compel her to. Hermione’s official job was as a night clerk and general advocate in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, after all; legally, she had no reason or authority to act in this case. On the other hand, she also maintained accreditation as a Hitwitch (she was listed as a reservist, but still), and had the high security clearance that came with being a consultant to the Department of Mysteries, so she had the qualifications to be involved.

Even beyond just being Hermione, with all the knowledge and skills she brings to any given situation, Ginny thought with amusement.

Forcing herself back to the situation at hand, the redhead asked, “And who exactly are we ‘dealing with,’ Hermione?”

“A pair of Slytherins,” she answered, eyes briefly unfocussed as she concentrated on the details. “Fourth-year students, if I recall correctly—”

“Have you ever not?” Ginny fired back, chuckling at Hermione’s exasperated look.

“Who’ve been manipulated into travelling into the past,” the vampire witch finished.

“Usually, Slytherins do the manipulating,” Ginny remarked—before the rest of the statement penetrated, and she stared at Hermione.

“How do you . . .?” she demanded, before stopping, her brow furrowing in concentration. “No, wait . . . This is a Harry Potter thing, isn’t it?”

“Essentially, yes,” Hermione said. “Which is part of the problem: unlike most of our past issues, this one shouldn’t be happening without Harry Potter.”

Ginny wasn’t the most organised Occlumens on the block—that title would always belong to Hermione, she reckoned—but the skill was too useful in her line of work not to have, and she’d refined it in the near-decade since Hogwarts. As such, it didn’t take her long to work out what her old friend was obliquely hinting at.

The redhead sighed. “. . . Fred and George must never find out, because I know they have a bloody pool on it.”

Hermione blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“Weasleys are always in Gryffindor,” Ginny explained, “but they figured that between the seven of us, at least one kid or branch of them would end up somewhere else—and I’ve apparently got better odds for it than most, according to their board.” She smirked. “Something to do with my falling in with a terrible lot while I was at school, they tell me . . .”

She shook her head, sending her red tresses flying. “So, which one of ‘my’ kids landed in Slytherin?”

Hermione opened her mouth to reply, but the answer suddenly occurred to Ginny.

“No, wait,” she interrupted. “Don’t tell me—it’s the one whose initials spell ‘asp,’ isn’t it?”

A look passed between the two witches, and neither of them needed to be a Legilimens to know what the other was thinking. They’d never been able to make sense of the “unwritten law of physics” that said a person’s name always provided hints as to their nature—a werewolf named “Remus Lupin,” for example—but it always seemed to be in play . . .

And the more ridiculous it is, the more relevant it seems to be, Ginny mused.

“I’ve called the Aerie, and asked Shirou to come and have a look at the remnants of their Time-Turner,” Hermione said, “and I’ll probably go and help him, unless you’d rather I stay here and help you . . .?” She shrugged. “In all honesty, I likely resemble the aunt he remembers more than you do his mother.”

“Only in full daylight,” Ginny countered—then she shook her head, recognising the line of discussion as a distraction. “Hermione, what aren’t you telling me? This is weird, yeah—even for our lives—but you’re tenser than I’d think you really ought to be.”

Hermione frowned, before exhaling slowly.

“If they’re here,” she said slowly, “however and whyever it was done, then there’s a possibility that the person who manipulated them into time-travelling may be, as well—a Dark witch by the name of Delphini . . .Lestrange . . . Riddle.”

The first name caused Ginny to tense—to her, no fight before or since had been as hard, or as terrifying, as facing Bellatrix Lestrange—and the second to bury her face in her hands.

“Of course,” the redhead groaned. “Of course, it ends up coming back to him . . . I won’t ask why or how, Hermione—not yet anyway—but if things are that dangerous, then we need an Unspeakable here. I don’t doubt that you know pretty much any and every trick they could bring to the table for a second, but I need somebody here with the legal bona fides and bureaucratic clout who can give me probable cause to put the Department on alert.” She tilted her head inquisitively at the older witch, “How ‘unavailable’ is Galen, exactly?”

“He’s got a speaking engagement at Ilvermorny,” Hermione answered. “It’s partly a quid pro quo for being allowed to poke around for material for his next book.”

Which was far enough away that even he’d have trouble Apparating back, Ginny acknowledged. At least, he couldn’t do it in a single go . . .

“At least that means we can call him and tell him to grab a Portkey home, yesterday,” Ginny sighed. “So, while you do that, I’m going to try and get in touch with an Unspeakable I know who’s slightly less annoying than most of them. Better still, he’s a field agent, which means the Department of Mysteries is more likely to listen to him than they will to an archivist, no matter how much the Head likes him.”

The trick, Ginny knew, would be keeping the Department of Mysteries from scooping up the entire case wholesale—they had a habit of seeing themselves as only paying lip service to Ministry authority most of the time. On the other hand, that inherent autonomy would give weight to a warning of danger, no matter how vague and unlikely it all seemed at the moment; and it would allow Ginny to co-opt resources she might need, but couldn’t access under her current status.

If she could persuade the Unspeakable in question, of course.

Hermione seemingly followed along with her thoughts, because she said quietly, “I hope you know what you’re doing, Ginny—I may not follow office gossip, but even I’ve heard it said that the Unspeakables aren’t known for playing nice with other departments.”

“Speaking as a member of the DMLE, that’s one of those criminal understatements, Hermione,” Ginny snorted. “Most of us would love an excuse to lock half the tossers in Azkaban and Vanish the key, given some of the things we’ve had to swallow from them—or clean up after . . . But it makes the half-decent ones stick out, if nothing else, and the couple of times we’ve crossed paths, Gwydion’s been willing to play fair with me.”

The red-haired witch shrugged. “I’m hoping that I can talk him into at least hearing us out.”

Hermione’s eyes flashed at the name—in fact, her body language, for a moment, seemed amused—and Ginny wondered why.

On second thought, she decided, it probably wasn’t important right now. Certainly not with everything they currently had to worry about . . .










Writer's Notes: Took longer than I wanted, but it's done, so you get it a day early (kind of).

[Arbitrarity]

Ask and I shall receive, I suppose. I forgot that Neville was teaching Herbology, but of course, it's right in the epilogue. Ginny being an Auror probably tracks with her skillset; as Kiritsugu said years ago, any of them would be an asset as Aurors. Rowan's perspective seems pretty natural, and it's about as energetic as she seems from the outside.

I wasn't sure if Ginny had been read into this particular thing, but presumably if Galen set up wards specifically against this, he thinks they'd need to know. Also, people are better at keeping secrets as adults.
I hadn't considered Albus's initials, that is classic Rowling naming at work. Similarly, really hadn't considered the frankly weird implications of dealing with your alternate-timeline possible-child. That's definitely one of the most interesting possible interactions, so I'm glad you chose that direction.

Gwydion isn't a name I recognize from mainline Harry Potter, but I do remember Galen's wedding disguise, and that plus Hermione's reaction, plus Galen working in the Department seems to imply something quite silly.

[Kieran]

Ask and I shall receive, I suppose. I forgot that Neville was teaching Herbology, but of course, it's right in the epilogue.

Yup.

Ginny being an Auror probably tracks with her skillset; as Kiritsugu said years ago, any of them would be an asset as Aurors.

Quite - and it helps her build a reputation within the Ministry (and general public) in the event that she actually does decide to run for Minister, someday . . . Of course, that depends on how big a hassle the twins turn out to be.

(Side note on them, because I may not get to it: the girl is named for Shirou, because the male translation of "white" as an English name was Albus, and Ginny said "No way in hell." So, it's Arthur and Bianca Longbottom, instead. )

Rowan's perspective seems pretty natural, and it's about as energetic as she seems from the outside.

Thank you - I have a decent handle on her personality, I think, but I wasn't sure I had her thought processes down, yet.

I wasn't sure if Ginny had been read into this particular thing, but presumably if Galen set up wards specifically against this, he thinks they'd need to know. Also, people are better at keeping secrets as adults.

They have seen all eight films, including the epilogue scene - up until this point, the trinity never bothered mentioning the play, because it could never happen - or so they thought . . .

So, naturally, it has to come back to bite them.

I hadn't considered Albus's initials, that is classic Rowling naming at work.

Isn't it, though?

Similarly, really hadn't considered the frankly weird implications of dealing with your alternate-timeline possible-child. That's definitely one of the most interesting possible interactions, so I'm glad you chose that direction.

Seeing how they react to the Rowlingverse canon characters - and vice versa - is one of the bigger draws of this particular idea.

Gwydion isn't a name I recognize from mainline Harry Potter, but I do remember Galen's wedding disguise, and that plus Hermione's reaction, plus Galen working in the Department seems to imply something quite silly.

A hint, if you'd like . . . The full explanation will be made if and when I switch to Galen's perspective - and while it is silly, there's actually an internal logic (from wizards, no less!) behind it.

[Kieran]

And as an aside, of sorts - looking into Hogwarts Legacy, I have to say that I'm seriously impressed at the amount of care that's gone into some of its design; they found a way, for example, to make where Sirius was held captive in Hogwarts at the end of Prisoner of Azkaban - a differing location between the books and films - both accurate. But one thing that's caught my eye is a familiar-looking spell . . .

I suppose that's another sequel path that's possible - though no less of a complicated one than Cursed Child, really.

[hatori]

Wait.. I thought Galen WAS Gwydion.
Edit: Re-reading again, yes he is.

[Arbitrarity]

A hint, if you'd like . . . The full explanation will be made if and when I switch to Galen's perspective - and while it is silly, there's actually an internal logic (from wizards, no less!) behind it.

Wait.. I thought Galen WAS Gwydion.
Edit: Re-reading again, yes he is.

Yeah, I arrived at that from the G-starting name and other hints, wasn't sure if it was supposed to be secret (and missed checking if it had already been established). The silly part was that Ginny lacks critical information. That probably means Ilvermony is a cover story, but there might be some related reason.

And as an aside, of sorts - looking into Hogwarts Legacy, I have to say that I'm seriously impressed at the amount of care that's gone into some of its design; they found a way, for example, to make where Sirius was held captive in Hogwarts at the end of Prisoner of Azkaban - a differing location between the books and films - both accurate. But one thing that's caught my eye is a familiar-looking spell . . .

Once again, you precede canon
Not sure if that makes much more sense, given how far in the past the plot of Legacy is. You'd be invoking even more time travel shenanigans.

[Kieran]

Wait.. I thought Galen WAS Gwydion.
Edit: Re-reading again, yes he is.

Yeah, I arrived at that from the G-starting name and other hints, wasn't sure if it was supposed to be secret (and missed checking if it had already been established). The silly part was that Ginny lacks critical information. That probably means Ilvermony is a cover story, but there might be some related reason.

There is a reason, which will be explained; as I said earlier, it involves wizards using actual logic (so it's understandably not something you'd expect to happen), obviously.

On the bright side, the fact that this is happening after lunch helps - as it turns out, Ilvermorny should be five hours behind Hogwarts, time-wise, so it's possible that they'll catch him before or during breakfast, rather than mid-lecture . . .

Once again, you precede canon

So it seems.

Not sure if that makes much more sense, given how far in the past the plot of Legacy is. You'd be invoking even more time travel shenanigans.

Yes, but in some ways, it wouldn't be any worse . . .? Because according to this entry (written by Rowling herself), the Department of Mysteries can apparently track changes to the timeline, which makes the plot of Cursed Child make even LESS sense than it already does . . .

[Xamusel]

Hey, Kieran, where are you with updating a story today?

[Kieran]

Hey, Kieran, where are you with updating a story today?

*Drawls* Well . . .




Continuing . . .




Hogwarts Castle, Scotland
November 24, 2005








“Bollocks—we’re spotted!” Rowan hissed, as Professor Longbottom began striding towards them. “Everybody, scatter—he can’t catch us all!”

“There’s no point,” Alex said firmly, causing the others to freeze in mid-tense as they’d been preparing to bolt.

Rowan whirled on him. “What?”

The professor loomed larger as he approached—understandable, since until he’d met Professor Hagrid, Alex had always thought of the man as a giant. As it was, Hagrid was larger, but Professor Longbottom was far more intimidating; he had the build of a serious athlete, and the air of someone with combat training. Family training, in fact—Alex could recognise things he’d been taught, things he did himself, in the way the Professor moved.

As such, he held no doubt whatsoever that the professor was a dangerous man, for all that the wizard seemed mild-mannered. As affable and quiet-spoken as he portrayed himself to be, Neville Longbottom never projected anything but confidence, competence—it showed in his gait as he approached, sweeping across the grounds like an oncoming avalanche.

And well he ought to, Alex thought. He was one of the Seven, one of his elder sister’s peers; outside of a life-or-death struggle, attempting to overcome him was futile—and in point of fact, it was probably equally futile to try in a life-or-death struggle. But at least in that case, there would be no choice but to try, would there?

All of that did not, of course, mean that Professor Longbottom couldn’t be outwitted—but Alex needed to know what he had to work with, first . . .

“Let me handle this,” he murmured, considering the best approach, before raising his voice to a conversational volume.

It was harder to manipulate his face than his voice; his time at Mahoutokoro had taught him how to not visibly react to things, more than how to show a desired reaction. At the same time, having to defend himself (and later Ai, and Sakura) from Nihon’s dislike of foreigners had given him a fair bit of practice in exactly what he was about to attempt, so the Japanese wizard gave himself fifty-fifty odds of pulling it off, at least . . .

“Longbottom-sensei?” he said innocently, falling back on the Japanese idiom because this was one of the few teachers that would forgive his “slip,” because he understood its meaning. Alex paused, as though correcting himself before asking, “Is everything all right, sir?”

“You mean aside from the four students who are supposed to be back in their common rooms, instead of wandering the grounds, Mister Aozaki?” the man said dryly, his voice a deep rumble that would’ve done Darth Vader credit.

Alex blinked. “Were we, sir? I hadn’t heard—of course, it was hard to hear anything over the thunder, or those bells . . .”

“Your House ghosts should’ve informed you if your prefects didn’t,” the professor said sternly. “Are you telling me that none of them found you?”

“We were already in the corridors, and overheard Sir Nicholas and Miss Myrtle talking,” Alex admitted, “but I heard them mention Nii-san coming because of the bells and went off to look for him before they actually saw us. I just got excited —it’s been a long time since I’ve seen him . . .” He shrugged. “The Bloody Baron might not have told me, anyway—he really doesn’t like me, for some reason.”

“He wouldn’t, but that’s not your fault,” Professor Longbottom said grimly. “Has he caused any issues . . .?”

Alex blinked, his thoughts diverted by the sudden intensity of the question.

“. . . He glares a lot,” the younger wizard admitted, “and sounds contemptuous at the rare times he speaks, but not really, no.”

“Good,” the professor rumbled. “If that changes, you come to me immediately, understand?”

“Yes, sir . . .?” Now Alex was genuinely puzzled, and it prompted him to ask, “But what exactly can you do against a ghost—one that’s not even part of your House?”

The professor looked at him for a moment, and then said, “Well, aside from the fact that the ghosts—and the House ghosts, especially—are bound to obey school staff, I can and will remind the Baron that far worse than the Spirit Division will come for him if he doesn’t behave.”

Professor Longbottom gazed off into the distance for a moment, and muttered under his breath, “And better him for doing it, than me, for not telling her . . .”

Shaking himself, the larger wizard said, “But we’ve wandered from the main point. You shouldn’t be out here, Mister Aozaki—any of you.”

“To be fair, they were trying to stop me, Sensei,” Alex answered earnestly. “It’s the only reason they were out-of-bounds.”

The professor stared at him for a moment, then deliberately flicked his eyes to Rowan and back, and raised an eyebrow as if to ask, “Really?”

Alex winced internally—that was the weak point of his excuse. Edelfelt was a rule-follower; her doing as he’d described would make sense. And so might Alfie, since he was inclined not to borrow trouble, and the pair were housemates; but Rowan, on the other hand, was . . .

Well, she was a Gryffindor for a reason, to put it in the politest possible terms.

“I got a very good head start, and she was the easiest way to track me,” Alex tried, his voice firm. “Not to mention the easiest way to stop me in my tracks.”

He had no idea what her actual weight was, but it added up to a lot of wolf; especially for a female. And it made her running tackles very effective.

“. . . I suppose that’s possible,” Professor Longbottom allowed, “so I’ll take five points from each of you for being out-of-bounds”—they froze—“and give you all two points each, for inter-House cooperation. Likewise, if you get yourselves to Greenhouse One and stay there until I tell you otherwise—and I will know if you leave—I’ll assign no further detentions.”

Filtering the professor’s statements through his lessons in Nihonji politics, Alex regarded it as a small victory, but a victory nonetheless, even as he understood the lesson behind it. The punishment wasn’t as harsh as it could’ve been, and they’d been given points to encourage cooperating between Houses, but not so many as to make the loss a token one; to remind them they had earned a punishment for what they’d done.

“Understood, Sensei,” he said, adding a respectful bow. “We’ll be waiting for you there—”

“Not you, Aozaki,” Professor Longbottom rumbled. “You stay—the rest of you, off.”

The final word carried absolute finality—but glancing back, Alex saw that Edelfelt looked blank, Alfie was hesitating, and Rowan looked defiant.

“Go,” he mouthed to them, and Alfie reluctantly pulled at Rowan’s sleeve, tugging insistently . . .

And after a beat, she whirled and stomped away in obvious fury, but she did go.

Alex sighed in relief. He would take the larger punishment, and the rest of them were safe; that was his intent, in the end—

He was surprised when Professor Longbottom suddenly spoke up, and as much because he did so in very fluent Japanese, as because of what he actually said.

“I see you have your cousin’s charisma, Mister Aozaki, and you’ve as good a poker face as your sister had at your age—but while you’re obviously talented, you’re still a long way from being as sneaky as your brother-in-law.

“Though mind you,” he added with dry amusement, “you seem to have his self-sacrificing traits down pat.”

Alex blinked, nonplussed at that statement. His first impulse was to protest, loudly; his family had a long and literally storied history of self-sacrifice for the sake of others—Galen had just married into it! More than that, it was habit: Ai and Sakura had gotten even more harassment in Nihon than he did, and someone had to protect them at school . . .

When he’d gotten sufficient control of himself to restrain the impulse to protest, however, Alex found that he was unsure of whether he was being complimented, or chastised, or both. What he was sure of was that either Professor Longbottom was a very good guesser, or yet another adult that seemed able to see through him like he was made of glass.

Damn it—another one I can’t fool?! This isn’t fair—he’s not even a girl . . .!

Internally, he sighed, and questioned his decision to transfer to Hogwarts. It had been so much easier to get away with things at Mahoutokoro.

Is it because I look like more like one of them than I do Japanese that makes me so easy to read, Alex wondered, or just that he’s used to dealing with Takara-neechan working against me . . .?

“All of that,” the professor said, drawing the younger wizard from his thoughts, “is a very roundabout way of saying that I’ve been deceived by experts, Mister Aozaki.” He loomed over the younger wizard suddenly, his voice a growl that was better suited to an earthquake than a human frame—and just as dire a threat—as he said sharply, “Don’t try it again.”

“Yes, sir,” Alex said immediately, the same as he would when confronted with an angry Mother, or Godmother—the sense of his imminent and immediate demise was no less palpable here than it was with them in those situations.

“Good,” Professor Longbottom said firmly, before the stern disciplinarian receded, his posture and expression relaxing and his voice softening, as though he’d suddenly been Transfigured from a monstrous bear into a teddy bear . . . And as he did so, Alex’s heart and lungs began to work normally again.

“That said,” the teacher continued, in a more sympathetic tone, “I don’t know what might have brought all four of you out, but I imagine that you came for more or less the reason you explained—and I can understand that. But I’ll point out that there was a better-than-even chance that asking one of the teachers might’ve seen a meeting arranged with a lot less risk than sneaking around. Particularly your Head of House, come to that; you’re smart enough to have figured out by now that Slughorn loves to make and show off connections.”

Alex winced, though he kept it off his face. It would have been simpler . . .

“I realise that seeking forgiveness rather than permission is an inherited as well as a Slytherin trait,” Professor Longbottom said dryly, clearly amused, “but you should keep in mind that the direct approach has its perks, sometimes . . .” He chuckled. “Then again, I suppose I shouldn’t rake you too hard over the coals. Twisty, complicated plots are another inherited trait, of sorts—karmically, if nothing else.”

“Now,” he continued, “as much as I don’t like the idea of rewarding rule-breaking behaviour—however much of a hypocrite that makes me—you’re in luck, Mister Aozaki. As it happens, I think we’ll have need of an extra pair of eyes and ears in the Slytherin dorms, over the next little while—but I’ll leave that decision in the hands of the experts.”

The larger wizard began walking away, leaving Alex to stand in place, puzzled—before stopping after several paces and turning back.

“Well, come on—how’s Hermione supposed to decide if she doesn’t see you first?”

Herbology, Alex decided as he broke into a run, is my new favourite subject . . .








Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Mount Greylock (Adams), Massachusetts
November 24, 2005








Galen’s first hint that anything was wrong was when a jolt of panic shot up his spine.

Lowering the cup of coffee that he was drinking, his left hand brushed his right wrist, priming his wand holster for quick release at the programmed motion; a similar move on the opposite arm primed his gun. His Occlumentic defences were brought to full strength, and he opened his senses to high alert, eyes seeking potential targets as his mind sought the origin of the feeling—was it instinct, an attack . . .?

The source remained frustratingly vague, a sensation which redoubled not long after; but at least with that, he was able to identify the source as both external and familiar—it was Hermione he was reacting to. And given that London wasn’t so far ahead (or behind) in time zones that it would be night there, that was not good.

Unfortunately, he lacked any private way to call home. As a rule, the longer the distance, the more difficult complex communications became; there was a reason that people used owls for post and Portkeys for transport on the international level. Short of using Hermione’s “panic button” (charmed coin), he had nothing on hand—since a corporeal Patronus was still out of his reach—that would reach across the Atlantic and get any reasonable amount of detail.

Not about Galen Salvatore’s life, at least, he thought sardonically.

A sudden burning at the back of his neck some minutes later—more specifically, from the runic tattoo hidden under the hair on the back of his head—reminded him of his old favourite adage about tempting Fate.

Of all the bloody times . . .

Excusing himself to a restroom was simple enough, as was ensuring that it was empty—and casting a fairly complicated series of spells to ensure privacy—and locking himself into a cubicle for good measure. But then, and only then, did Galen pull out the Deluminator.

It was not, despite the name, Dumbledore’s original device, though it was certainly based on his design. Indeed, Hermione and Shirou had gone to some trouble to recreate it, based on what they could pull out of Galen and Ilya’s memories of what it was and how it functioned; they’d gone so far as to borrow Rin’s Kaleidostick, and have Galen download memories of a future self, just in case more about the device had been revealed beyond his original lifetime.

Thank God I’m an Occlumens, the thought flitted through his mind. Adding almost a quarter-century to my memories on top of what I’ve already got might’ve had him overwrite me, otherwise; and that miserable bastard would’ve destroyed my marriage . . .

Regardless, while its functions were far from easy to nail down, the brightest witch of her generation and the greatest artificer of his had managed to pull it off—and license its use to certain Ministry departments, at least on a “test case” basis.

He thumbed a switch on the seeming “cigarette lighter”, and the light vanished from the room. Running his thumb over one of the runes on its side and murmuring “Locus” set the destination point—one of twelve that it could store; a category that included people that spoke his name. Then he ran his thumb over another rune, and flicked a different switch; this time, light flowed from the Deluminator, but hovered in place.

Galen sighed. I really hope this doesn’t take long . . .

It was better than hoping that it wasn’t connected to whatever had woken Hermione.

He touched the point of light and vanished.







Ministry of Magic, Level 9 (Department of Mysteries)
London, England
November 24, 2005








Once garbed in the grey, non-descript cloak and robes of his uniform, Galen engaged the Floo network, and saw Ginny’s face form in the flames.

“This is Gwydion,” he said, secure in the protections woven into his garb that, among other things, concealed his identity. “What’s on your mind, Auror Longbottom?”

She showed no sign of recognising him; and barring something like a mental break, she wouldn’t, even if he blatantly gave himself away.

After the Wizarding Wars, as they’d taken to being called—specifically, between Rookwood’s spy ring in the first and the potential to abuse what was kept in the Department of Mysteries, which had happened in the second—changes had been made. Croaker had decided to step up the secrecy protocols involving Department employees; it would be harder for the Department of Mysteries and their secrets to be endangered, he’d decided, if no one knew exactly who worked there. To some extent, this had always been the case; Arthur Weasley had identified Croaker and Bode in the Goblet of Fire book because he was a Department Head himself, and knew their affiliation for administrative purposes, but the rank and file were fairly obscure to most, as were their works. Still, Croaker had wanted to improve on that, somehow . . .

And then Galen had, with a little help from Aoko and Touko Aozaki, brought him the ritual which the Tohno clan had used to conceal themselves from the Nanaya—and Kohaku from him, at Hogwarts.

Granted, he’d mostly been looking for their help in developing a countermeasure—because he would not allow what had happened to Hermione to occur again. Still, while Croaker and his staff had been more than pleased to take it apart for that purpose, they’d also adapted and adopted it for their own use.

As such, Ginny was more or less incapable of mentally connecting even her close friend, who toiled in the Department of Mysteries as a lowly research assistant, with the mysterious Unspeakable she’d met in the field. Hermione knew, of course—it was impossible for the enchantment to stick to her, when she was in his head to the degree that she was. It was part (albeit, only part) of why her security clearance was as high as it was . . .

“I’m not strictly calling in an official capacity, Gwydion,” Ginny replied, unaware of his thoughts despite the sudden frown on her face.

“Ah, yes,” Galen replied, seeing an opportunity to play up the “mysteriously all-knowing” stereotype of his profession. “I had understood that congratulations were in order—”

Ginny’s face briefly and quickly cycled through shock, disbelief, fear and annoyance.

“Well, I hope you’re as knowledgeable when it comes to why I’m actually calling,” she shot back, her temper showing in response to a perceived threat. “There’s a potential situation at Hogwarts, seemingly involving a Time-Turner; I need somebody on-site with credentials to tell me whether or not it actually is a situation.”

Which dovetailed nicely with what he was getting from Hermione, now that he was back in-country; daylight muted their connection, but the lack of an ocean between them did a good deal to strengthen it, just the same—enough for her annoyance and dread at the Cloister Bell going off to register, at least.

Regretfully, Galen said, “I’m afraid I’m in the midst of a time-sensitive assignment, Auror Longbottom . . .” As her face fell, he finished, “I can spare you thirty minutes, but no more.”

“. . . Is there a handbook for you lot, detailing the regulations that require you to be an arse?” she demanded.

“I fully understand the sentiment, but I’m afraid it’s simply talent—at least, in my own case,” Galen said with a chuckle.

And it helps reinforce the idea that I’m not Galen Salvatore, because “his” humour tends to be more self-deprecatory . . .

“Regardless,” he added aloud, “I will be at Hogwarts momentarily—is there anything specific you require from me?”

“Just speed and discretion,” Ginny answered. “I’d rather this not be announced to Department of Mysteries unless or until it absolutely has to—and the sooner it’s solved, the better.”

“Believe me, Auror,” Galen said seriously. “It’s very much in my interests that no one learn I was ever involved.”

And that I’m not late for my reading—the American sales of The Life and Legacy of Albus Dumbledore are depending on it . . .

[Xamusel]

LOL!! XD I'm glad you shared it with us, Kieran. Now, I think I'm in love with Galen for this story.

...platonically, mind you, since I'm heterosexual and all that.

[Arbitrarity]

I'm appreciating how Neville appears from Alex's outside perspective. Most of the points-of-view in Trinity don't really let us get an outside view of Neville, since they're primarily members of the Seven. He did get considerably more confident throughout The Tournament, and this is a good payoff on that.
It's interesting, but I guess not strange, that Alex refers to Galen as Nii-san. I'm slightly lost on who his cousin is, though. Would that be Shirou, since Touko would be Alex's aunt? That... seems correct, okay. I was initially thinking Ilya because Veela charisma, but couldn't work out why. I really like some of Alex's internal reactions there; "Galen had just married into it!" is great.

He had no idea what her actual weight was, but it added up to a lot of wolf; especially for a female. And it made her running tackles very effective.

Alex speaks from experience.

And we get the thorough explanation for the codename. I was assuming it was a simpler sort of anonymity, but they are taking that seriously. Galen is having about as much fun as I'd expect with it, I can definitely see why Hermione was smiling.

I still think that extra function on the Deluminator is ridiculous, even if canon, but that's certainly a convenient way to know where to travel. That use of the Kaleidostick is... huh. So he downloaded memories from an alternate self who didn't die in a car crash, and may-or-may-not be older than you. Feels like there are a lot of exploitable things you could do with that, but it certainly is easier to have Galen be up-to-date on things that happened after his original death.

[Kieran]

LOL!! XD I'm glad you shared it with us, Kieran. Now, I think I'm in love with Galen for this story.

...platonically, mind you, since I'm heterosexual and all that.

And why would that be, exactly?

I'm appreciating how Neville appears from Alex's outside perspective. Most of the points-of-view in Trinity don't really let us get an outside view of Neville, since they're primarily members of the Seven. He did get considerably more confident throughout The Tournament, and this is a good payoff on that.

Honestly, I'm not completely happy with Neville's dialogue, at points - he sounds a bit too much like Galen, to my ears - but I'm justifying it to myself as his choosing to ape McGonagall's style when he needs to be a disciplinarian. But yeah, in the current world, he's fairly well-regarded; one of the leaders of the Hogwarts Resistance, the slayer of Bellatrix Lestrange, on top of being the scion of the Longbottom family, with his grandmother's connections as a society dame . . .

In Alex's specific case where Neville's concerned . . . He's not quite a siscon as anime portrays them, but he's very well aware of what his sister has accomplished and is capable of, alongside the rest of his family - and Neville, as he says, is among her peers. Not just in terms of age or schooling, but a man who literally has stood beside her in battle. Just that fact alone would make him a badass in Alex's opinion, if he knew nothing else about Neville but they're at least acquainted; he's heard them talk, seen them train, even if it's been a while - so he knows that Neville is capable of not just standing beside Takara, but of holding his own . . .

It's why Alex says there's no point to running - if Neville wants to catch them, he will.

It's interesting, but I guess not strange, that Alex refers to Galen as Nii-san.

Alex might use "Aniki" (the actual translation of "brother-in-law" is "giri no ani," apparently), but he chose a diminutive of the more common phrase because most people in the castle have heard him use its equivalent for Takara, and he wanted to be sure Neville could make the connection . . . Because he wasn't actually expecting Neville to be as fluent in the language as he is.

I'm slightly lost on who his cousin is, though. Would that be Shirou, since Touko would be Alex's aunt? That... seems correct, okay. I was initially thinking Ilya because Veela charisma, but couldn't work out why.

Nope, it's Shirou - legally, and everything!

I really like some of Alex's internal reactions there; "Galen had just married into it!" is great.

It's not always about Galen - and Alex is nothing if not proud of his family.

Alex speaks from experience.

He is familiar with lycans; and Rowan likes to stretch her legs (all four of them) if she's cooped up in a classroom for too long and the weather's good . . .

Sadly, he did forget about that reflex of "if it moves, catch it!" that most predators have, the first time - but it makes games of tag much more challenging.

And we get the thorough explanation for the codename. I was assuming it was a simpler sort of anonymity, but they are taking that seriously.

Like Amelia Bones, Algernon Croaker is a pragmatist. His Department studies some of the most secret, powerful and dangerous things in the world - and even in Rowling's canon, they demonstrate a level of autonomy from the Ministry. So why the hell would a place like that, or a person like that, let everybody be allowed to know just who to go after if they wanted access to those things?

Galen is having about as much fun as I'd expect with it, I can definitely see why Hermione was smiling.

It does let him indulge his taste for theatrics . . .

I still think that extra function on the Deluminator is ridiculous, even if canon, but that's certainly a convenient way to know where to travel.

Oh, I absolutely agree with you - and the fact that The Secrets of Dumbledore lets it access "the mirror dimension" as well is just absolutely flat-out ludicrous . . .

Still, since this isn't Dumbledore's original device (since he had no reason to leave it to anyone), I can say that it functions more as a programmable Portkey, here (Shirou's specialty, as you may recall). In fact, under his design, the light-stealing ability is actually a side-function to that purpose: it's how the device registers destinations. Steal the ambient light, activate a rune to "read" the location (and give it back so no one gets suspicious, of course), and you've saved your transport point.

Abusable? Hell, yes. Something the Seven would absolutely use for covert or combat work? See previous answer.

That use of the Kaleidostick is... huh. So he downloaded memories from an alternate self who didn't die in a car crash, and may-or-may-not be older than you. Feels like there are a lot of exploitable things you could do with that, but it certainly is easier to have Galen be up-to-date on things that happened after his original death.

Like the franchise's extended canon - since the movies weren't actually all out when he died, back when I was originally writing, but were obviously relevant as the series went on and which he and others demonstrated full knowledge of - though I could blame Takara for that, I suppose . . .

(No, wait - I make deliberate references to The Dress, so it's technically a plot hole . . . Oh, well).

But yes, it is abusable - but not advisable to use unless you have to (see previous statement about overwrites). And since a good deal of the future (and past, such as Hogwarts Legacy) potential threats involve time travel to some extent or other (Cursed Child, Wizards Unite, etc.), Galen saw fit to work on an anti-time travel enchantment . . .

[Xamusel]

Kieran, the answer you will get from me is that Galen is an author after a fellow author's heart, and that's why the platonic love.