Trinity Angles (Discussion Thread)

[Kieran]

Then other possible crossovers would mesh with Castle's universe would make sense, eg. Numb3rs, White Collar, Scorpion, Bones....

Yes, which would make for a lovely Castle crossover - in fact, several of them have - but for a TYPE-MOON/Trinity crossover . . .

Of course, those are just the usual procedurals....

We run into that problem.

Perhaps going back towards the Animated universe, with TMNT/ JLA...

That's quite a leap . . .? I mean yes, either one is expansive enough for something like Trinity, but a TMNT/JLA crossover on top of that . . .?

Besides, the Turtles are (theoretically) Marvel characters, since the same ooze that created them also created Daredevil (or so goes the joke).

Or anime wise..: El-Melloi Case files?

Possibly . . .? For the actual trinity, anyway - Hermione and the rest of the Rowlingverse would have issues.

or maybe Full Metal Panic...

God, no - Second Raid destroyed that franchise for me.

But still, given their abilities, it seems we're moving into Action Hero movie / Games territory than actual RL situations....

RE *Games : done.
Evangelion: no, hell no.
SAO: done.

Yes, yes, and yes - and the RE movies, while having some merits, are . . . Uneven, to say the least.

Macross?: Love triangle, but no magic, unless fold receptors and such constitute as magic. Superhuman abilities though( as seen in Delta)

I'll take your word for it - though as I have both Palladium's Robotech and RIFTS games, a crossover could theoretically be done . . .

Nanohaverse: but magic is non-lethal there.

Only because everybody incorporates safeties - and I only have the first series, anyway.

I guess Grand order is still probably the better setting.

And isn't that terrifying to contemplate . . .?

[hatori]

I was thinking more of JLA or TMNT universes. not that it needs to crossover together.
That being said...
since Hasbro is making multiverses canon in Magic: The Gathering , maybe planeswalking would be considered, instead of reincarnations all the time.

[Kieran]

I was thinking more of JLA or TMNT universes. not that it needs to crossover together.

Ah - my mistake . . .

That being said...
since Hasbro is making multiverses canon in Magic: The Gathering , maybe planeswalking would be considered, instead of reincarnations all the time.

. . . That would require an awful lot of planeswalkers - a statistically highly unlikely amount, in fact . . . But maybe? I mean, it has a "Hogwarts" setting (Strixhaven), after all . . .

[Kieran]

Continuing . . .








New York City, United States of America
July 27, 2004








Hermione was distracted—that was her only excuse. And it was a very poor one, all things considered.

Honestly, with her experience, training, and inherent abilities, no one should have been able to get that close to her. Yes, the books she was looking at were very tantalising (even the ones that could serve as Takara’s birthday present), and she was tired from being up in daylight hours, but that should have made her more on guard, not less; she was almost more annoyed with herself than with her attacker, for allowing him to pull it off.

Almost.

She got lucky, irritating as that was—he’d come equipped for a human opponent. In fairness, it was a large-calibre gun, and the shock of it did send her flying; his only mistake was closing in for a headshot while she was on the ground, to finish the job—which, in truth, would probably have killed her, if it had done enough damage to her brain. Even if it hadn’t, she’d have been helpless until sunset, and probably forced to escape from whatever morgue she landed in.

(It was never fun eliminating traces of her presence when that happened—so many Obliviations, so many digital and chemical wipe-downs . . .)

Fortunately, he was professional enough to want to make a thorough job of it—and she was hardly dependent on most of the organs he’d pulverised. Also, while her capabilities might be limited to human levels during daylight hours, Hermione was still a highly-trained fighter—along with fangs designed to pierce flesh and instincts designed to go for major arteries. And with fresh blood in her system, she could access some of her vampiric abilities, even with the sun in the sky. Healing, for one; Legilimency, for another.

Garret Ward, she pulled from his head. Not his actual name, but a working alias—and . . . Time travel?!

What the . . .?

It was bizarre, seeing as the man was, so far as Hermione could tell, a bog-standard mundane; not even aware of magic, or he’d have come better equipped to fight her. Really, that he’d managed what he had was sheer luck on his part, rooted at least halfway in her own inattentiveness.

But that meant—a scientific method of time travel . . .? And she was his intended target . . .?

“Garrett Ward” was a fascist, who’d been looking for her in New York, of all places—because this was where she was, according to history. Where she, Takara and Galen were, for at least a decade, along with—

Oh. OH! They were . . . Well, Galen would be pleased, at least—he enjoyed Castle, even if some of the decisions of later seasons made very little sense. It was too late to stop the major tragedy; but perhaps they could see their way to fixing some of the smaller things.

But first, they’d need an excuse to move house—or at least, to intervene . . .








12 Grimmauld Place
London, England
March 2, 2009
(One week before Season 1/”Flowers For Your Grave”)








Richard Castle said matter-of-factly, “No matter how many times I come here, this place is SO COOL . . .!”

OK, so it was a dark and dreary(-ish) townhouse that wouldn’t look out of place in a Gothic or Victorian thriller—all it needed was a thunderstorm to complete the look—but it was a magical dark and dreary(-ish) townhouse, and that made it awesome!

It was also the one place Alexis could practice her magic outside of school, legally, by virtue of being the paid babysitter. And if her non-magical (he was anything but “mundane,” thank you) dad happened to be around when she was undertaking the job, well . . .

Castle so wished he could take pictures—all the pictures. Between the house, and watching his little girl do actual magic . . .

Pride warred regularly with envy within him; thus far, pride had won out, however barely. And that, more than anything else, drove him to be a bit better-behaved than normal—though there might have been threats made involving lily pads, too.

Still, whatever might (reasonably) be said about Richard Castle’s maturity level (or complete lack thereof), he was far from a stupid man, and he loved his daughter fiercely. There was a lot of rule-bending being done here—he’d been told about it upfront, and he was sure there was more to it that he hadn’t been told—and it wasn’t being done for his sake. These people believed in Alexis; not just in her gift for magic, but in the wealth of talents she brought to the table simply by being his brilliant, beautiful baby girl. They had a faith in his daughter’s potential, in what she could become, that even she didn’t—and that support, offered without pressure, buoyed her in ways that the ultra-competitive mundane schools didn’t.

For that, Richard Castle could behave himself—at least for a little while.

Still, watching Alexis entertain the munchkin by conjuring and directing little balls of coloured light (and the two cats of the household, as well) he felt obligated to offer a quid pro quo, of sorts . . .

“Listen,” he said lightly, if not quite as casually as he made it sound. “I really want to thank you guys for everything you do for us, and you’re kind of hard to buy for, y’know? But I’m having a book launch party next week. Free booze, good food, a few celebrities—you guys should come. I figure Alexis would appreciate having other adults she could talk to besides me and my mother, at least . . .”

There was, Castle figured, a fifty-fifty chance that any of them would take him up on it; being magical and a special-ops team that hid from even the government, they had a penchant for staying out of the spotlight, and this was absolutely dead-centre of it. On the other hand, he knew they did read his books—proving their good taste—and he’d talked them into things before.

But not poker, ever again—not unless he wanted to see people cry, anyways. Doctor Salvatore played with the deck like a born stage magician, Professor Granger was a natural card-counter, and Professor Salvatore was both stone-faced and impossible to bluff. Their friends weren’t much better, either; no, Castle’s bank account was much better off if they stayed far away from any groups that he was involved in.

. . . Well, maybe he’d give one or more of them a call if he got tired of Patterson’s ribbing him about doing just one book a year (the overachieving bastard)—that might be worth it.

The three traded looks briefly, and Castle wondered again how good they were at those mind-reading tricks they’d taught Alexis defences for; good enough to literally hold a silent conversation, maybe? Alexis admitted that she had no real talent for the art, mostly by being so good at its opposite, so he had no idea how much broad its applications could be.

(Not that he would ever complain about that. The fact that “Occlumency’s” mental organisation capabilities kept her on top of doing both her magical and mundane schooling at the same time, without burning her out, was a blessing; but just icing on the cake, in the end. Knowing, on the other hand, that his daughter’s mind was protected—even to the point of throwing off some drugs, or at least being able to detect them—was more than worth the trade of being unable to satisfy his curiosity.)

“One or more of us can probably make that, Mister Castle,” the oh-so-pale Professor Granger said.

She was, frankly, a fascinating subject: model-pretty, brilliant in her field (which was, as Castle understood it, officially equivalent to high-level physics, and unofficially all of them), and someone whose story . . .

Well, honestly, he could get an entire series out of these people without much work—just the hints he’d gotten from what Alexis had overheard implied that every year they’d spent at Hogwarts was worth a book; and some of the references they’d made about their pre-Hogwarts days might be worth at least one or two, themselves.

Still, Hermione Granger was one of the more interesting people in the group; the “reluctant vampire” thing was big, nowadays, and the reality of it was as fascinating as it was tragic. She would make a hell of a protagonist; hell, any of them would—and God knew, it would be more fun than writing Derrick Storm was, lately. But if he tried that, even if he put extra care into disguising things, more than he ever had with his work, and someone still put the pieces together . . .

They would hold Alexis responsible—and at best, she would literally be erased from his life, and likely spend her own in prison. At worst, the former would still happen, and they’d execute her for it.

In his more introspective moments—which, on principle, he avoided like the plague—Richard Castle would admit that he was often selfish and egocentric. But not to that degree, and never where his daughter’s health and safety was concerned.

And so, regrettably, the saga of the Wizarding World would remain unwritten . . .

It was a shame, really; he could see such potential. Not just books, but movies, stage productions (Mother would be a natural as Hogwarts’ headmistress), merchandising—maybe even a theme park! How cool would that be . . .?

The author was drawn out of his thoughts by another speaker—the only other man in the room.

“I wouldn’t want to miss it, Mister Castle,” Galen Salvatore said politely, with an unexpected tinge of enthusiasm that nevertheless put the writer on edge and set his imagination to whirring.

Because if he’d learned nothing else about the wizard since meeting him, it was the man’s absolute loathing of social events like this one—but Castle also knew that learning to predict the future was an actual class at Hogwarts, and that Galen occasionally knew things. Things that no one should or even could know, even with the ability to read minds . . .

Casually, Castle said, “It’s just a fancy party—I throw them all the time.”

Salvatore flashed his teeth in that expression of his that said, “I know what you’re doing, but I’ll play along because it amuses me.”

Still, he only shook his head slightly, and said, “And I have gone this long without seeing one for myself; a state of affairs that simply must be corrected.”

Now Alexis was looking at the wizard oddly, her eyes wide with surprise before narrowing suspiciously. Castle couldn’t blame her; there was a deliberate theatricality in his choice of words and tone of voice—he was teasing them with something.

“Well,” the author said leadingly, “I hope we manage to show you something spectacular, then.”

Salvatore smiled serenely.

“Of that, I have no doubt whatsoever, Mister Castle.”

. . . Damn it—now he really wanted it to be next week already . . .!








New York City
February 13, 2012
(Season 4, Episode 15 “Pandora”)








The initial attack had come without warning—a black vehicle slamming into the back of their car, forcing them off the pier.

By contrast, they had seemingly all the time in the world to watch the car sink to the bottom of the water—and the water to rise inside the vehicle.

This is a lot cooler to see on a screen than to live through, Castle thought, as Beckett jerked beside him, trying to free herself from her seatbelt.

“I’m stuck!” she snapped. “Castle, see if you can find my gun . . .!”

Her plan was obvious: shoot out the glass, swim to the surface. And knowing Beckett, she’d stick to it so long as it got him out—but it wasn’t viable if Beckett was pinned to her seat. And wet bullets had a habit of misfiring anyway . . .

“No,” he said, after a beat.

“What?” the detective blurted. “CASTLE—!”

“There’s another way, Kate,” he said heavily, even as he rooted around in his pocket.

It was there, of course: a smartphone in a protective case covered in decorative runic designs, or so it appeared. In point of fact, it was no such thing: it was just a mirror. A mirror that had been especially designed to never be broken or taken from him, or even noticed; to be able to be activated by even someone as non-magical as him, so long as he could touch it—so that in cases exactly like this, he could call for help.

It was unquestionably illegal as all hell, but after the nuke—and especially after the freezer—Alexis had insisted he have something for that kind of situation and damn the consequences. And while he wasn’t sure what they could do from so far away, right now he was glad she had.

Pulling it out, Castle said his daughter’s name clearly, drawing a questioning look from his partner—though that might be because the “phone” was bone-dry, despite coming out of submersion—and he almost passed out in relief when the surface fogged over briefly, before revealing her face.

“Dad,” she said anxiously.

“Hi, pumpkin,” he said with a cheerfulness he didn’t really feel. “Beckett and I are kind of stuck here—is there anything you can do . . .?”

He panned the mirror around to show her the situation, deliberately keeping its surface out of his sight because he didn’t want to see Alexis’ reaction to their circumstances. It didn’t stop a stab of pain going through his heart anyway when she screamed at the top of her lungs, “PROFESSOR . . .!”

“Castle, what the hell are you doing?” Beckett demanded in nearly as panicked a tone, though it got angrier with every word she spoke. “Alexis is at boarding school—and why the HELL would you make her WATCH THIS?!”

This was more than the woman who’d become friendly with Alexis talking. This was more than veteran homicide cop—the detective who honoured the victims, fought for closure for their families—talking, either. This was the daughter who’d come home to find her mother had been murdered, absolutely outraged to see another daughter being made to see her parent’s death happen . . .

(And Castle knew he really shouldn’t find Kate Beckett in full-bore fury as sexy as he did, but—)

“Mister Castle, Miss Beckett,” came another voice—an unexpected one, but not unfamiliar. Still, Headmistress McGonagall was nothing if not capable of projecting authority, and both of them instinctively stopped and paid attention when she spoke.

“Take deep breaths,” she instructed, “hold them, and then cover your heads and ears—now.”

Castle did as he was told, and nudged Beckett to follow suit. Shortly after that, there was a crash, and the water swept in . . .

Something in the water seized him, and dragged him away—








They tumbled onto a hardwood floor with a boom that rattled nearby windows, and Castle felt more than a few places on his body that were undoubtedly going to be hellishly bruised—but despite feeling, cold, wet, and like he’d been abruptly pulled through a spaghetti strainer, there was suddenly a distinct lack of water and an abundance of air and light.

He counted that as a good thing.

“Kate . . .?” he called uncertainly.

“Here,” the detective groaned, apparently not having had quite as easy a time—but then, he had some experience with magical travel.

“Good,” came a hoarse voice—and Castle looked up to find that not only were they in his loft, but Galen Salvatore was leaning, grey-faced and trembling, against his kitchen island.

“DAD!” Alexis called frantically. “Are you OK?”

“Beckett and I seem to be all in one piece, Alexis,” he said reassuringly. “Your history professor, on the other hand, looks like he’s about to keel over.”

(Seriously, he was panting like he’d run a marathon—except that Castle had actually seen him run a marathon, on a bet, and it never seemed to faze him. Until this very moment, he almost hadn’t believed that the wizard could get tired, or out of breath.)

“Apparating through Hogwarts’ protections over three thousand miles—and then Side-Alonging two passengers Merlin only knows how far—will do that, Mister Castle,” McGonagall said tartly. “Even knowing Mister Salvatore as I do, I am astonished that he managed such a feat.”

And that basically said it all, Castle thought. More than once over the years he’d heard Galen Salvatore proclaimed, indirectly or outright, as not only the most powerful wizard known on Earth in terms of sheer power (though only the second-most powerful magic user), but as specialising in Apparition . . .

He nodded in acceptance of the unspoken declaration of just how damned lucky he was.

“Castle, what just happened?” Beckett demanded. “What the HELL is going on?!”

Swallowing hard and hoping he hadn’t just used up all of said luck, the writer turned to his partner in crime.

“Well, Beckett, it’s like this . . .”








Writer's Notes: Turns out there was a little more in the tank on this one, though it took me longer than I'd hoped to get it out . . .

[hatori]

Excellent
Now if only i can find a working torrent for all the seasons ofnCastle..

[Arbitrarity]

Wow, that is quite a bit of jumping around in the timeline. Interleaving those with the previous snippets generally fits together coherently, though I don't quite know all of the scenes that are being implied in between. It does seem like things are mostly hands-off, which is probably a good way to keep things relatively on track. I can see why you don't expect to be able to make a full story out of this, though. I was initially thinking you might be able to embed Luna or Ginny part-time, but even they would probably wreck a lot of situations unless they were heavily constrained by the Statute of Secrecy.


Alexis is a babysitter in Grimmauld Place. I guess I need to jump back to the Twilight thread for canon reference... and yes, that's a four-year-old, fits perfectly. I feel like I should know their name, but I mostly can find the names of Shirou and Ilya's children. Really interesting to see Castle's writer's perspective on things, feels a bit meta, but he has a pretty distinct voice.

Galen is a Professor now, at least, as his day job. History of Magic, I guess?

[hatori]

Since Bill was only for a year, It wouldnt take much for him to get his Mastery ( dont forget, Illya had her Defense Mastery less than 6 months after graduation)

[Kieran]

Excellent
Now if only i can find a working torrent for all the seasons ofnCastle..

Can't help you, I'm afraid - I get by on the DVDs.

Wow, that is quite a bit of jumping around in the timeline. Interleaving those with the previous snippets generally fits together coherently, though I don't quite know all of the scenes that are being implied in between.

The first is a bit vague, for which I'm sorry - but since I needed an excuse for them to become aware of Castle's presence (and move to New York), and time travel is implied to be a thing in the series (quite cleverly, too), it was too good not to use. "Flowers For Your Grave" is the series pilot (wherein Detective Beckett brings Castle in for questioning about murders copycatted from his books - at the aforementioned book signing), and "Pandora" . . . Was the first and easiest place I could think of to bring them in directly.

It does seem like things are mostly hands-off, which is probably a good way to keep things relatively on track.

Yes.

I can see why you don't expect to be able to make a full story out of this, though.

Yeah - though, given that there are likely offscreen cases, maybe I could do something . . .?

It is awfully fun to contemplate, though.

I was initially thinking you might be able to embed Luna or Ginny part-time, but even they would probably wreck a lot of situations unless they were heavily constrained by the Statute of Secrecy.

Yes - though the strait-laced Detective Beckett versus Luna would likely be hysterical.

Alexis is a babysitter in Grimmauld Place. I guess I need to jump back to the Twilight thread for canon reference... and yes, that's a four-year-old, fits perfectly. I feel like I should know their name, but I mostly can find the names of Shirou and Ilya's children.

Elise is usually the girl who appears in snippets like these.

Really interesting to see Castle's writer's perspective on things, feels a bit meta, but he has a pretty distinct voice.

Given that he's been known to (indirectly) reference Firefly on multiple occasions, "a bit meta" is really accurate. But yes, Castle is very distinctive (due in no small part to Nathan Fillion's brilliant portrayal and natural talents), and would be half the fun of doing this particular crossover.

Galen is a Professor now, at least, as his day job. History of Magic, I guess?

Yes - and more comprehensively than Binns' curriculum.

[Kieran]

Hotel de Ginestou, Place Cachée
Montmartre, Paris, France
June 20, 1999








The penthouse suite was as luxurious as magic and wealth could make it—which, given the potential of either property, never mind both in tandem, was considerable.

Nevertheless, Luviagelita Edelfelt considered it “merely adequate” by her standards; though in fairness, she supposed they could do no better. After all, this was a hotel, not a family property with generations’ worth of magic and wealth to build it to the level of opulence (indeed, decadence) to which she was accustomed. And as such, she made a mental note to check on when, precisely, the manor’s renovations would be completed. Willing she might be to stay in this place in order to allow her paramour easy access to both her place of work and Luvia herself, but neither was she inclined to do so for any longer than absolutely necessary.

A wicked smile crossed the blonde witch’s face as she contemplated the other reason to wish the manor a speedy completion. Simply put, the reaction of the nearly pathologically frugal Rin to the blatantly excessive home she had in mind would be hilarious, and no doubt lead to an explosion of passion—in several definitions of the term. . .

So lost in pleasant daydreams was she, and flushed with contemplating the possibilities of them, that Luvia did not immediately realise that the room was getting chilly. Had she been more aware of the fact that magically controlled temperature of the room was dropping, she might have realised that she was under attack sooner; alas, it was not until a puff of her own breath wafted visibly in front of her eyes that Luvia realised anything was wrong. . .

And by then, it was far too late.

To her credit, Luvia had her wand out and was casting defensive enchantments almost immediately, sealing the room against intruders and conjuring her Patronus, a dazzlingly brilliant swan, against the most likely culprit of the effect (though she had no idea where Dementors would’ve come from)—

Window glass frosted over, the effects spreading into the moisture in the wall, before the whole outer façade of the room crumbled, forced to shatter by the spreading ice. Luvia’s enchantments crumbled with it, as there was no longer anything for them to be anchored to; she’d not considered strengthening the walls against temperature extremes, after all. Worse, the outer, summery air caused a heavy blanket of fog to form within the room as it met such unseasonable—indeed, outright unnatural—cold.

Still, she was swift, directing her Patronus to dart forward, pouring strength into it; if not Dementors, hopefully the sheer brightness of the construct would disorient her attack long enough to la—

A whisper of something, like an Arctic breeze, blew her Patronus into silver mist—and in the next instant, Luvia found her wand tearing itself from her hand even as she was hoisted up into the air by her ankle, her limbs bound to her sides. There was no sound as her attacker approached; only the sensation of wafting air as someone passed through the room, and only barely. To all intents and purposes, it might as well be a Dementor, or a ghost, who had attacked her.

But what emerged from the mist was far more tangible than any ghost, if perhaps even more terrible than a Dementor . . .

She would be pretty, Luvia thought, with the effortless grace of her movements, the lithe, dancer’s build, and the long, dark hair which trailed her like a bridal veil, casting hints of blue in its otherwise dark depths. Indeed, she would be stunning, if not for the sweeping, inexorable sense of how she crossed the room, like an oncoming glacier, or an avalanche. If not for the terrible emptiness of her face; a death-mask that might as well be carved from gilded marble, rather than pale gold flesh. Delicate, Asiatic features—similar to the ones she found so exotically attractive in Rin—adorned that face, with eyes that were a trifle too large to be purely Japanese. Then, too, there was their colour—rings of gleaming silver that shone with the cold brilliance of the stars on a midwinter’s midnight . . .

And with even less pity.

“You aren’t Rin,” the girl said, in French that was oddly accented, but perfectly clear, and a voice as cold and soft as falling snow.

“I would apologise,” she continued, “but I’m not in the mood—and if I’m not sincere, what’s the point?”

Under other circumstances, Luvia would agree with her, and even admire her candour and clear thinking. As it was, however . . .

“Who the hell do you think you are?!” the blonde witch demanded.

“Very angry,” was the sharp answer, such that Luvia would’ve checked her body for bleeding cuts, if she could move . . .

A sudden thundering on the stairs, followed by a shower of glittering, glowing orbs (those odd “stored spell grenades” her beloved was so fond of, she realised belatedly) whipping past her brought Luvia sudden hope: Rin was here—

With a flick of the intruder’s hand, the glowing stones halted in midair (silent Freezing Charm?), and a second, sweeping motion had chunks of ice and wall hurtle towards Rin, briefly obscuring her from view . . . And when she reappeared, Rin had joined her in position and orientation.

And all of that, Luvia suddenly realised, had been done without a wand . . .

“TAKARA?!” Rin exploded suddenly; shock visible on her features. “WHAT THE HELL—?!”

“That’s my question,” said the foreign witch. “And this,” she gestured, “is to remind you that I’m no less dangerous than Shirou—or Galen.”

Luvia watched Rin pale; she didn’t have to know Legilimency to hear her sudden thought of “Oh, crap.”

“If I wanted you dead,” Takara said conversationally, “you would be, and I’d be interrogating your ghost right now—that’s still an option,” she added sharply.

“So, consider that carefully, because I’m only going to ask you this once: where is my fiancé . . .?”








Another world entirely
Outside Snowfield, Nevada
June 20, 2009 (same relative time period)








“I must be even further out of my mind than normal,” Galen muttered. “Willingly entering another Holy Grail War . . .?”

And one, he reminded himself, that he knew almost nothing about—save that the Grail involved wasn’t the Einzbern one, and thus, might actually be capable of granting his wish. And if there was another way to break Hermione’s curse, he hadn’t found it yet—and who know how much harder it might become to break over time . . .?

Still, even aside from the expected difficulty of a Grail War, he knew there had to be more to it. The Grail wasn’t tainted or cursed in the usual way, but Zelretch had found his timing “convenient”—and since the last time he’d wanted an outside observer involved was the Prisma Illya series, odds were good he was walking into potential humanity- and/or planet-destroying issues, regardless.

Still, he had a good knowledge of Servant identities, access to his wizardry thanks to Zelretch’s “patronage,” and he’d have a Servant’s help, this time—the odds were as good as they were going to get, for him.

Here goes everything, I guess . . .

Trinity/strange fake

Writer's Notes: Because I missed last week (sorry, it was a very literally crappy week), and this Sunday is Hermione's birthday, I thought an alternate take might be interesting . . .?

[Arbitrarity]

I really feel like I should have gotten that sooner, but it took the Levicorpus before it fit. I had forgotten about the elemental effcts, and that's actually more impressive than the last time, which... I think was the Tournament? I guess she's older now. And very angry.

I... am also not happy with Galen on this one. Going into something with this level of risk for that reason feels really self-destructive, especially without consulting about it. That reminds me a lot of some of his worse behaviours in earlier years, mostly... The Chosen, I think? It sounds like there has been a lot of off-screen angsting about Hermione's condition. I'd be interested in seeing how he got to the point where this seemed like a good idea.

and since the last time he’d wanted an outside observer involved was the Prisma Illya series

Normally I get these references, but I have no idea what this is talking about, unless it's an off-screen event where Galen was asked to help with that mess. With Strange/fake that mostly makes me think of the Watcher.

precisely, the manor’s reservations would be completed

Renovations?

[Kieran]

I really feel like I should have gotten that sooner, but it took the Levicorpus before it fit. I had forgotten about the elemental effcts, and that's actually more impressive than the last time, which... I think was the Tournament? I guess she's older now. And very angry.

Yup. I decided that I hadn't had her show off in a while, so it was time.

I... am also not happy with Galen on this one. Going into something with this level of risk for that reason feels really self-destructive, especially without consulting about it. That reminds me a lot of some of his worse behaviours in earlier years, mostly... The Chosen, I think? It sounds like there has been a lot of off-screen angsting about Hermione's condition. I'd be interested in seeing how he got to the point where this seemed like a good idea.

It mostly boiled down to "could he get desperate enough to use a Grail wish to fix Hermione?" Answer: yes, if he thought there was a chance it would actually work . . . Naturally, that lets out the Fuyuki Grail, but there are others . . .

Strange/fake isn't my preferred option, but it was the one I thought had at least some chance of making sense . . .

Normally I get these references, but I have no idea what this is talking about, unless it's an off-screen event where Galen was asked to help with that mess. With Strange/fake that mostly makes me think of the Watcher.

Pulled from the TYPE-MOON wiki (with the relevant part bolded):

"In order to not directly observe the world line and fixate it as truth, Kischur Zelretch Schweinorg decided to chose Ayaka as an outsider to participate the Fake Holy Grail War, with her playing the part of the Person A in the Semina Apartments ghost story. Ayaka was a Fuyuki native and she had travelled to the United States. She was gifted with five command spells and at the same time cursed by a mysterious woman."

. . .In Prisma Illya, a similar excuse is used to justify his not intervening there, either.

Renovations?

Ack - how on Earth did I . . .? *Sighs* Thank you, fixed.

[Arbitrarity]

It mostly boiled down to "could he get desperate enough to use a Grail wish to fix Hermione?" Answer: yes, if he thought there was a chance it would actually work . . . Naturally, that lets out the Fuyuki Grail, but there are others . . .

Strange/fake isn't my preferred option, but it was the one I thought had at least some chance of making sense . . .

It works, and makes sense, I'm annoyed with him in-character :P Obviously he didn't tell Takara because she'd stop him, since he's recklessly endangering himself. Hermione... I might expect to know, depending on the entire blood-Legilimancy thing, but I don't remember what state that is in at end-of-series. (as I recall, the Elixir made directly consuming blood hazardous)
Alternatively, he could be extremely confident in his ability to win this, but he seems to have a pretty good idea of the problems that he's about to walk into.

"In order to not directly observe the world line and fixate it as truth, Kischur Zelretch Schweinorg decided to chose Ayaka as an outsider to participate the Fake Holy Grail War...

. . .In Prisma Illya, a similar excuse is used to justify his not intervening there, either.

Right, I remember the thing about Zelretch's observation fixing/canonizing outcomes, and I vaguely recall that excuse being used in Prisma Illya. What I don't remember is when he "wanted an outside observer involved" during Prisma Illya. I guess Rin/Luvia take that role, and I just forgot that he gave that as the reason for sending them. Topical with your choice of introduction hook.

I'm clearly not familiar enough with Strange/Fake that I missed that Godafrid has taken Ayaka's job, though >.<

[Kieran]

Just missed your reply, sorry!

It works, and makes sense, I'm annoyed with him in-character :P

That's fair.

Obviously he didn't tell Takara because she'd stop him, since he's recklessly endangering himself. Hermione... I might expect to know, depending on the entire blood-Legilimancy thing, but I don't remember what state that is in at end-of-series. (as I recall, the Elixir made directly consuming blood hazardous)

And then there's the question of if it works across facets of the Kaleidoscope . . .

Alternatively, he could be extremely confident in his ability to win this, but he seems to have a pretty good idea of the problems that he's about to walk into.

It's a Holy Grail War - basically, it's automatically worse than he thinks . . .

Right, I remember the thing about Zelretch's observation fixing/canonizing outcomes, and I vaguely recall that excuse being used in Prisma Illya. What I don't remember is when he "wanted an outside observer involved" during Prisma Illya. I guess Rin/Luvia take that role, and I just forgot that he gave that as the reason for sending them.

A bit of extrapolating on my part, I admit.

Topical with your choice of introduction hook.

I try.

I'm clearly not familiar enough with Strange/Fake that I missed that Godafrid has taken Ayaka's job, though >.<

I figured it made at least as much sense as she did (given that she's apparently not actually Ayaka, who is attending Waver's class) . . .

[Xamusel]

So... Happy Birthday to Hermione Granger!

[Kieran]

One hopes so.

[Xamusel]

Also, is it just me, or did her birthday conveniently fall on International Talk Like A Pirate Day on purpose? :P

Okay, in all seriousness, I hope you continue that snippet series of Galen in the True and False Holy Grail War.

[Kieran]

Also, is it just me, or did her birthday conveniently fall on International Talk Like A Pirate Day on purpose? :P

I take your point - but I think that's giving Rowling too much credit, personally . . .

Okay, in all seriousness, I hope you continue that snippet series of Galen in the True and False Holy Grail War.

I admit, I'm tempted - I'm just not sure that this is the right Holy Grail War. Aside from the fact that I have no access to the materials beyond what the wiki (and TVTropes) tells me about what happens, it's still ongoing; and I hate working with ongoing media, because changes and reveals they make can screw with my plot so easily . . . Aside from that, this Grail War in particular is stupidly complicated, even if I do like the symmetry of some of the themes (it's part of a plan to reveal magecraft to the world at large, which the trinity is also trying to do on their world, for example).

On the other hand, it's not like I'm exactly spoiled for choice; the Prisma Illya Grail is Miyu, the Moon Cell can't do what Galen's looking to do (unless it's possible to upload Hermione, hack her cyberframe data to read "human," and bring her out that way),any war involving the Fuyuki Grail is pointless, between the Rhinegold Curse and the presence of Angra Mainyu - which includes both Fate/apocrypha and Fate/type redline. So it's the strange/fake Grail or nothing, it seems, unless I want to try and delve into the madness that is Fate/Grand Order . . .And again, ongoing storyline, on top of everything else.

So, I'm at a bit of a loss, to be honest.

[Kieran]

London, England
June 17, 2017
(AKA, Nineteen Years Later . . .)








Riley Matthews was the world’s greatest big sister (according to her little brother), the apple of her father’s eye (which was not a saying she’d ever really understood, but she liked apples, so she didn’t mind the comparison), and in general, she was “a little ball of sunshine,” according to many of her friends and family . . . But since moving to England—since leaving her friends, her home, behind—Riley didn’t feel much like shining.

She wanted to blame her mother. It would be easy to blame her mother; Mom didn’t need to accept the job offer, after all. Auggie was doing that . . . But Auggie was seven, and she was more than twice that—and she was her father’s student as well as his daughter. Hadn’t he taught her that change, while scary, was a part of life? That while things rarely stayed the same—and never stayed the same forever—the things which meant something could keep on going?

Of course, that didn’t stop her from missing her room, her boyfriend, Maya—or stop her from being half-asleep at eight o’clock in the morning. Of course, that might be because her body, still on New York time, insisted that it was only three AM . . . But while Riley didn’t feel much like shining, the actual sun apparently did, and so she was up, if not actually ready to face the day.

She looked out the bay window—but it wasn’t her bay window, even though it was in the bedroom that she’d slept in. Her bay window would have Maya crawling through it by now, ready for breakfast and picking clothes for school . . . Still, it was a bay window, and it was why she’d gotten this room, so she would have something familiar, in a strange new place. And that was another reason why Riley couldn’t blame her mom—because she knew who made sure that all her things were in this room when they got here . . .

She sat at the-bay-window-that-wasn’t-really-hers (yet?), opened it, and sat with her back to it, trying to feel like it was . . . Like she could close her eyes, and Maya would come climbing in, like she always had, ready to resume their lives.

Riley closed her eyes, and sang quietly, “Tra-la-la-la, Tra-la-la-la . . .”

She lost herself in the singing for a while, and in the memories of the things that singing in the bay window (in her bay window) had led to.

“Tra-la-la-la, Tra-la-la-la—”

“Miaow?”

The sudden cry startled her, and Riley jumped back with a shriek—which promptly turned into a sudden fall to the floor.

There was a sound of branches moving, and a cat suddenly appeared on her windowsill, looking down at her with wide golden eyes. It was sleek, so black she’d missed it in the shadows of the tree outside and moved gracefully along the sill despite arching its back to keep its balance.

“Miaow?” it repeated, sounding even more piteous the second time.

“Kitty!” Riley replied, her brain still rebooting. “You startled me—where did you come from?”

An ear flicked towards the tree, but other than that, the cat didn’t reply. Not that Riley expected it to; that would be silly, for a cat to talk, but it would’ve been awfully neat if it could’ve—

The cat meowed again, dropping down off the sill onto the window seat, and then to the floor, before wandering over to her and climbing onto her thigh.

“Well, you’re friendly,” she commented, reaching out to stroke to the back that was already arching to meet her hand. “I like making new friends, too—even when I miss my old ones.”

The cat leaned against her body, purring, eyes slitted in that half-asleep sort of way that Lucas had told her meant a cat was happy. Riley loved that he knew things like that—she loved him, and she missed him so much—but really, the sort of lazy, amused expression of the kitty was more familiar to her because it looked so much like . . .

“One of them smiled like you’re doing now, a lot,” she murmured. “I know it’s probably not your real name, but would you mind it if I called you ‘Maya,’ kitty . . .?”

Her eyes were getting blurry all of a sudden, so she didn’t quite see the kitty’s response, but there were suddenly paws on her chest, then against her shoulder—and a rough, warm tongue lapping up the tears going down her cheek, accompanied by even louder purring.

“. . . You are just the sweetest kitty in the whole world,” Riley said with a giggle. “And I really wish I could keep you—but you belong to somebody, don’t you? You have to, if you’re this friendly to a stranger.”

Another meow, this time sounding a bit indignant. Riley believed that if the kitty could talk, it would say that whatever other humans were involved belonged to it, rather than the other way around—and the idea made her laugh again.

The kitty crawled its—her, Riley determined—way against her, until she had to bring her arms around for support. She’d never held one before, but the kitty was shorter than Maya’s ferret, and only almost as wiggly, so it wasn’t hard to figure out how. The kitty seemed to know how to be held by humans, too—another point to it having a family, somewhere—because she wriggled easily into a comfortable position, shifting to make sure that she had support when Riley didn’t do so.

It was nice, having this warm, purring weight against her body. The kitty’s fur was very soft, like her mom’s cashmere coat, and feeling the kitty relax against Riley made her relax, in turn—and the occasional, unexpected kisses were sweet, even if they felt rough.

The bedroom door opened, and her mother’s voice called out, “Riley, breakfast is—where did you get a cat?”

“She crawled in through my window,” Riley answered, looking up at her (which she didn’t normally have to do, being taller than her mother, but since she was on the floor . . .) “I think she wants to be friends.”

“They always do,” Topanga Lawrence-Matthews said softly, shaking her head—though whether she was referring to the “wanting to be friends” part or the “crawling through the window” part, Riley wasn’t sure. Maybe both?

Auggie chose that moment to pop his curly-haired head in. “Riley has a cat?” His eyes locked on the ball of furry adorableness in her arms. “I wanna pet it!”

“Her,” Riley said, “And I don’t have her, exactly—I’m pretty sure she has a family, somewhere.”

But for now, it was nice to have someone to pet, and snuggle with, so she didn’t have to think about things.

The doorbell rang at that moment, and their mother sighed. “If that’s not them, then somebody better have a really good reason for disturbing us at this hour of the morning . . .”








“Once more, I’m terribly sorry for the trouble,” the woman at the door, a wavy-haired brunette who’d introduced herself as “Hermione Granger,” said. “In many ways, it’s unusual for her—in others, not so much. Mirai has a knack for finding potential new friends . . .”

She hesitated, then added gently, her amber-brown eyes soft, “Particularly if they seem to need one . . .?”

Topanga might’ve bristled at the invasiveness of the question, especially from a total stranger who looked like a college sophomore—but she held herself like a mature woman, and she’d been willing to share her Thermos of coffee. As Cory and Topanga were still trying to work out the differences in the UK’s electrical system (alright, it was mostly Cory), and had fried the current coffeemaker twenty minutes ago, this was a gift for which she was willing to forgive many sins.

Cory, being more naturally open, freely admitted, “It’s been hard for Riley and Auggie, giving up all their friends so suddenly, but it’s only been a few days—” He was cut off by the sudden sound of giggles. “Well, that’s a welcome sound.”

The adults glanced over at Auggie, who was presently being almost literally dogpiled and licked with enthusiastic abandon by a canine who was a little larger than Topanga was strictly comfortable with around her seven-year-old. Riley looked on fondly at her brother, the black cat still in her lap, while a second cat—a much larger orange one (though smaller than the dog), with a somewhat-squashed face—sat placidly in their other guest’s lap.

“Ollie tends to follow his mum’s lead,” Hermione chuckled. “If she’s decided the children are friends, then that’s all he needs to know.”

“His mother . . .?” Topanga repeated, puzzled. Then the pieces clicked together, and her eyes widened. “You mean the cat?”

Hermione smiled. “She was the one who found him and brought him to our attention—as I said, she has a remarkable talent for sniffing out someone who needs a friend . . .” Dryly, she added, “The fact that she also soaks up attention like a sponge absorbs water makes it a remarkably useful one.

“In any case,” she continued, “it’s not likely that she’ll come sneaking in again—aside from our yard exercises, she’s very much an indoor cat—but if you think your children could use some ‘fur therapy,’ as it were, you’re quite welcome to come visit.” She glanced over at the two girls, smiling at the animation in the blue-eyed girl who’d accompanied her. “I doubt Elise will mind, either, though it might be difficult once she leaves for school . . .”

“Leaves?” Topanga echoed worriedly. Given that Riley was already dealing with leaving her friendships behind, was it wise to have her form another one she’d have to give up, so soon?

“Elise is enrolled in a boarding school up in Scotland,” Hermione explained. “Attendance is something of a family tradition—and her father teaches there, in fact.”

Cory chuckled, remarking, “I guess Riley can give her pointers on how to deal with having her father as a teacher . . .”

“I suspect Galen might enjoy some pointers on how to deal with having one’s daughter as a student, as well,” Hermione countered. “You teach, Mister Matthews? What subject?”

“History—though I also consider my syllabus to be as much about life lessons as the actual subject matter,” he admitted. With a small amount of pride, he remarked, “Up until now, I think it’s done my students good.”

Cory paused, before adding hopefully, “I don’t suppose the school has any openings . . .?”

Hermione blinked, her eyes suddenly going wide. Startled, Topanga thought, being too familiar with that kind of expression on her husband and daughter’s faces, though she couldn’t see why—

“Ah—I’m afraid not,” Hermione said. “As it happens, Galen teaches the same subject—though I imagine he might welcome a potential substitute . . .”




“We may have a problem . . .” Hermione reported grimly, once she’d wrangled Elise and the pets back home.








Takara glanced between her husband and her wife (legalities aside, that was the truth of it), and asked bluntly, “How worrisome is this, exactly?”

“. . . On the face of it, not at all,” Galen said, “leaving aside the fact that Girl Meets World ended with Topanga not accepting the job in London. It’s an oddity, but while the setting can be a bit meta, at times, it’s got nothing to do with us . . .”

“Except . . .?” she prodded, knowing her husband better than that.

“Except that Cory Matthews really is a good, thoughtful teacher who cares about and wants the best for his students, and I’d do a lot to have him working at Hogwarts, even in Mundane Studies,” Galen said bluntly. “He’s the kind of man we need on our side if integration is really going to take hold as an option.”

“Except that neither he nor his wife are magical, nor is Riley,” Hermione pointed out. “The youngest might be, but that’s a stretch—”

“Yeah,” Galen sighed. “Still, the Matthews have protagonist power going for them, if nothing else, of the Disney sort. It’s not quite witchcraft or wizardry, but it’s something like magic . . .” He frowned.

“What is it?” Takara asked.

“Maya,” Hermione answered at the same time as he did, causing the Japanese witch to sigh.

“Let me guess—a young girl who is, or will be, heartbroken?” Takara asked rhetorically.

“It’s in character,” Hermione agreed, “but genuinely a concern. Maya Hart is a talented young girl with a troubled past, who describes herself as broken. In the series, she makes progress growing past that—but she has regressed, from time to time, and much of her development for the better has depended on Riley’s presence.”

“Maya has serious abandonment issues, to the point that she grew up with the motto that hope was for suckers,” Galen said. “And while the series canon ending disproved that belief—she had a new father who loved her, Riley wasn’t leaving her—this just basically affirms all her worst fears and leaves her without the Matthews’ good influence.”

“Which is terrible,” Takara agreed, “and something we should try to help fix, I agree in principle—but how? I presume that Maya isn’t magical—and she’s also an ocean away! We’ve got no legal recourse to intervene; and while we might be able to dance our way around the Ministry and Whitehall, MACUSA’s a different story.”

“I know,” Galen growled. “. . . For now, we give it time, and think. With luck, maybe the Matthews can fix the problem themselves—they’re good at that, it’s why I want their help as much as I want to help them. And today’s generation has an easier time with long-distance relationships, with online communication as it is—”

Takara arched a brow. “You do remember how much trouble we had installing and operating an Internet connection with all the ambient magic in the neighbourhood?”

Grimmauld Place was hardly on par with Hogwarts when it came to its overall magic interfering with electronics, but being cloaked in “every defence known to wizardkind,” to say nothing of a few they’d invented, didn’t keep the background levels low . . .

“. . . Bloody hell,” he muttered.








1993 Jacobs St., Apartment 26
Greenwich Village, New York City
July 7, 2017









Maya Hunter (a name she was still getting used to) curled in the bay window, as she often did—as much as it hurt to do it without Riley, it was as close as she could get to her. Besides, even if her safe place (Riley) was gone, she still had the place she’d first felt its presence. The bay window had been Riley’s farewell gift, and spurning it, as tempting as that felt sometimes, was so abhorrent to her that the thought of it hurt almost as much as Riley’s absence.

They all tried, of course—her friends, even though they missed Riley too, knew what she was like, knew what she was missing. Her mother was more attentive than she’d ever been, which was nice, her grandmother was more affectionate, and Shawn—

Shawn—Dad (which was also taking getting used to)—knew exactly what she was going through, and the fact that he’d seen his Riley again—knowing that it was possible—was sometimes the only thing that got her through the day, because she and Riley had already proven they were superior to “Cory and Shawn.” If they could do it, she and Riley could.

But other days . . .

It was hard to connect—bad Internet in England, or something—but Maya had gotten messages. Pictures of a new friend Riley had made; a younger girl with eyes that were blue like hers but big like Riley’s, and a whole lot of pets for Riley to adore. And she’d sent something just today: a Japanese legend (she didn’t even know Japan was part of London!), she said, about a couple divided by the gods who were allowed to reunite for one night—tonight, apparently—after forming a bridge from the stars . . .

It was poetic, and sappy, and exactly the sort of romantic thing that Riley would love; but to Maya, it was proof that Riley was moving on. She was doing well, making new friends, shining, as she always had—without her. Meanwhile, she was left without the sun that Riley had always brought to her world (not that she’d ever say something like that out loud).

“Promise me this,” Riley had asked of her. “Time and distance have no power over us. You and I are together for as long as we live.”

“I’m trying, Riley,” she whispered, glancing at the ring which had always symbolised their bond, “but it’s so hard . . .” She glared at her reflection in the bay window, snorting. “I wish it was as easy as saying ‘Ring power!’” She thrust her arm out. “Thund—”

Thunder exploded at that moment, sending her diving to the floor with a shriek. Because for a moment, she’d honestly feared the glass was about to break—it was like a bomb had gone off . . .

Uncertainly, Maya rose to her feet, cautiously looking at the miraculously whole windowpane, and the lack of anything visibly on fire in the distance.

“. . . That,” she finished lamely. “Yeah.”

Anger flared suddenly in her chest, the blonde turning to glare at the heavens (or the ceiling, at least). “And now, you’re just MOCKING ME—!”

“Who’s mocking you, Peaches?”

Maya whipped around behind her so quickly that she fell again, landing on her bed, this time—and that being the case, she wondered briefly if she was dreaming.

“. . . Riles?”

The brunette finished climbing through the bay window, and Maya stared. This couldn’t be happening—Riley was on the other side of the world, good things didn’t happen to her—!

“Hope is not for suckers, Maya,” Riley said primly, frowning in disapproval. Then she smiled, and it was like watching the sun break through clouds. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“. . . Are you?” Maya breathed, thinking that if she was dreaming, she’d rather die than wake up . . .

“C’mere, Peaches,” Riley invited—and when Maya hesitated, fearful of breaking the illusion, she barked, “Ring power!”

It was a bit odd for Riley to turn that around on Maya, for a change, but the blonde was so stunned that she was halfway across the room before it registered. The next thing she knew, the taller girl had her wrapped in a hug—and she knew this feeling.

“Riley . . .” she breathed. “HOW?”

“I can’t say—I promised, Maya,” she said firmly.

(And Maya really wanted to know now, just as much as she was afraid to question the miracle.)

“And I can’t stay forever,” Riley said sadly, making Maya’s heart plummet. “But we’re better off than the legend, because I can stay the weekend. And if we’re very lucky, this is just the first time . . .”

It was Riley’s line—it was Riley’s trademark, almost—but this time, Maya couldn’t help it.

“Y-AAAAAAAAY!”








Writer's Notes: Nostalgia and writer's block are a combination that is either terrifying or wonderful - and I'm not sure which this is . . .


As with several potential crossovers I'd enjoy, there doesn't seem to be a lot to this - the main characters are either too old or too young for Hogwarts, to say nothing of being in the wrong country . . . But the same part of me that likes sending the Scarlet Seven out on missions of Christmas charity likes the idea of the positivity of this series (which really is quite meta, in some places, to say nothing of its predecessor) being included.

As with many such series, it was ended before its deserved time; and if you haven't heard of it, I hope this brings you some enjoyment anyway.

[Arbitrarity]

Well, that's definitely a series I'm not familiar with. I didn't watch a lot of those Disney channel shows growing up, though some of them I ended up learning about accidentally. Seems wholesome, as one might expect, though I really appreciate the dark tinge from the canon divergence (actually moving Riley, and consequences thereof), tempered by intervention. I don't particularly know the characters, though I'd assume abandonment issues were something explored in the canon, but it feels a bit edgier than I'd expect a Disney show to go deep into for long.

One of the ways I frequently described Trinity in my head is "scaled up and darker", and this certainly seems to fit that characterization. Also, have to love the little character touches.

"Let me guess—a young girl who is, or will be, heartbroken?"

Resignation incarnate.
Mundane Studies is also a nice inclusion, though I have to admit the connotation of "mundane" feels a bit silly there.

[Kieran]

Well, that's definitely a series I'm not familiar with.

I expected people might not be, as it's a seven-year-old spinoff of a '90s-era family sitcom; I included the links because you really need the context to get some of the references.

I didn't watch a lot of those Disney channel shows growing up, though some of them I ended up learning about accidentally.

When I was growing up, there wasn't actually a Disney channel until I was a teenager . . . But I take your point. I only managed to catch Girl Meets World thanks to a change in our cable packaging - and even Boy Meets World I only started following several years in.

Seems wholesome, as one might expect,

Oh, very much so, and Riley especially. The girl is one cartoon animal sidekick away from being a Disney Princess

though I really appreciate the dark tinge from the canon divergence (actually moving Riley, and consequences thereof), tempered by intervention.

It seemed a natural crossing point - more natural than, say, moving any of the trinity to New York.

I don't particularly know the characters, though I'd assume abandonment issues were something explored in the canon, but it feels a bit edgier than I'd expect a Disney show to go deep into for long.

Yes and no - they are brought up, and frequently, since Maya is the series' tritagonist; it is a Disney show, however, on the Disney channel (as opposed to its more mature sibling networks like ABC or Freeform), so you're right in that it isn't as deeply explored as it could be.

On the other hand, the show frequently makes a point of just how much Riley and Maya depend on one another to be their best selves, which is part of what spurred this . . .

One clip I couldn't find (and arguably my favourite episode) has the entire class in detention, eventually splitting them into "Rileytown" (full of "goodness and rainbows, and everyone folds their hands like so") and "Mayaville" (which is "no rules, no laws, no hand-holding and nobody says 'no.'"). The influence of the latter eventually wins over everyone but her, and when called to account afterwards, Riley is asked why she didn't go wild like the rest of the class. She replies, "I was without Maya - without Maya, I might never unfold my hands." When noted as being the ringleader and first out the door, Maya remarks, "I was without Riley - without Riley, I might never come back."

It's further driven home when Maya is given an extra hour of detention, alone - she sits quietly for a beat, but after about thirty seconds, starts fidgeting and eventually screws up her face and calls out for Riley - who pops up on the other side of the classroom door and says "Right here," before sliding back down to sit against the door and wait for her to get out.

It's sweet, and in many ways, I found it beautiful to watch - but it implies some scary things about how fragile Maya can actually be.

One of the ways I frequently described Trinity in my head is "scaled up and darker", and this certainly seems to fit that characterization.

Thank you - and amusingly, I actually could do this, I think, and be semi-justified. I didn't think of it at the time, but Riley's mention of a talking cat reminded me of Salem, the sarcastic feline familiar of Sabrina the Teenage Witch (who made her own cameo in Trinity) - which was also a show on ABC, and crossed with Boy Meets World (as well as two other shows in that programming bloc) at least once, in a time-travel story.

. . . Which sounds like pure '90s fantasy (which it absolutely was), except that it's apparently canon, because in Girl Meets World, there's a photograph of Cory, Topanga and Salem in the Matthews' apartment.

Also, have to love the little character touches.

Resignation incarnate.

She knows her husband well.

Mundane Studies is also a nice inclusion, though I have to admit the connotation of "mundane" feels a bit silly there.

That's down to entrenched tradition and politics - you wouldn't believe the fight it took to change it in the first place . . .