Trinity Angles (Discussion Thread)

[Kieran]

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.

All right - I ask partly out of curiosity, and partly because if I'm doing something right, I like to know what, so I can keep doing it . . .

[Xamusel]

Just have Galen be an author again, please. I think we all deserve to know what the success of his books will be like, all things considered.

[Arbitrarity]

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.

Yeah, I can see it. His aside about the Bloody Baron stands out as having that sort of long-suffering wryness about women I associate more with Galen, in particular. I generally agree most of the rest seems like him playing the role of disciplinarian.

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

Exactly, it's great. Even when confident, Neville's self-talk is never quite that over-the-top, even when he's trying to motivate himself.

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.

Ah, nice detail. Agreed the connotation seems more appropriate.

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

With only two clarifications required. I suppose it's not really relevant to cousin-hood that Shirou was adopted.

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 . . .

Auuugh.

Still, since this isn't Dumbledore's original device (since he had no reason to leave it to anyone)

Huh, now I'm wondering about what happened to some of Dumbledore's other artifacts. Yes, he didn't have a reason to explicitly leave it to anyone... so it's probably rotting in Aberforth's possession or something? I don't exactly remember. He seemed less-prepared than canon, so perhaps.
Now I'm kind of wondering if a magical portrait can fill in for a will, if you haven't made other preparations. Deathstone would be just be cheating though.

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).

I don't think that Galen's date of death is solidly established enough for that to be a plot hole; I might infer that it was at the same year as he ends up in Fuyuki (though dimensional bullshit means that may not be the case, could be earlier or later; I don't actually know when you started writing, due to the Great Forum Purge, but I'd assume that would line up)
I can't actually find many references to the year in the prologues; it's apparently after 2008 in Truth and Consequences. Takara canonically has seen all the movies, sopost-2011, but you were writing before that. The Dress is 2005, so there's lots of margin.

When reading, I tend to treat it as "recent enough", but the 10+ year gap at this point for extended canon does merit some explanation.

[Kieran]

Just have Galen be an author again, please. I think we all deserve to know what the success of his books will be like, all things considered.

Ah - OK, that makes sense. Thank you.

And I'll say this because I'm not sure it'll come up, otherwise: while he does enjoy it, Galen's being an author is actually part of Gwydion's cover. Why? Because it's amazing what people will let you get away with, or get access to, on the basis of "doing research" . . .

Yeah, I can see it. His aside about the Bloody Baron stands out as having that sort of long-suffering wryness about women I associate more with Galen, in particular.

That has more to do with the fact that Neville is very (justifiably) afraid of Takara showing up at Hogwarts with Mellinoe in her hands and murder in her eyes, in the event her baby brother is hurt . . . He'd much rather she take it out on the Baron than him.

I generally agree most of the rest seems like him playing the role of disciplinarian.

I'm glad it works that well, at least.

Exactly, it's great. Even when confident, Neville's self-talk is never quite that over-the-top, even when he's trying to motivate himself.

He's a fairly modest, down-to-earth guy; even bonded to a grizzly bear's spirit, he's fairly easygoing (because they really don't have many things that can threaten them) - but those same elements can make him very naturally terrifying to normal people. Plus, he's used to using the trinity as his "awesomeness/over-the-top" scale, so he just thinks of himself as "competent" in any area short of Herbology or raw strength. And there is the fact that he's had to learn to moderate his strength (and downplay his size) in order not to frighten people, as well . . . Or just to get along in a world built for and populated by smaller people, for that matter. Ginny's over a foot shorter than he is, for example, and about half his mass - it's required careful adjustments, over the years.

Ah, nice detail. Agreed the connotation seems more appropriate.

*Nods* I'm still trying to decide exactly what Alex thinks of Galen, mind you. I suspect he admires and is jealous of him, by turns - after all, Galen is in a relationship with Alex's two favourite witches - but how that manifests in their day-to-day interactions, I'm not sure . . .

With only two clarifications required. I suppose it's not really relevant to cousin-hood that Shirou was adopted.

Technically, Alex is (part of) the adopted part of the family.

Auuugh.

Yeah - I like Mads Mikkelsen, but did they really need to rip off reference Doctor Strange that badly, just because he joined the franchise . . .?

Although, the film did prove useful to me in another, major way, so I suppose I can't complain too much.

Huh, now I'm wondering about what happened to some of Dumbledore's other artifacts. Yes, he didn't have a reason to explicitly leave it to anyone... so it's probably rotting in Aberforth's possession or something? I don't exactly remember. He seemed less-prepared than canon, so perhaps.

It's an interesting question, since Scrimgeour refers to the Deluminator as "an important magical artefact." Presumably it winds up in Aberforth's possession, but that line implies that it might be considered a museum-worthy piece, or deserving of "national treasure" status, for some reason - so perhaps the Ministry retains possession of it . . .? Or Hogwarts - but it's still an open question as to why. It's not as obviously important as something like the Sword of Gryffindor, or the Goblet of Fire, so why Scrimgeour would place attention on it like that is a mystery . . . Of course, he might simply have been trying to find a lever to get Harry to work with him, given the context in canon, so perhaps it's of no importance at all.

For the purposes of my canon, however, Shirou was interested in enchanting, and Hermione likes intellectual challenges with complicated magic, so it seemed like a fun little project to try and (re)create it - and the fact that it was something they could sell netted them a bit of income, as well. Sure, Shirou's family is wealthy enough not to really need it, but Hermione could use both the funds and the cachet of having unravelled enchantments created by Albus Dumbledore himself.

Now I'm kind of wondering if a magical portrait can fill in for a will, if you haven't made other preparations.

That sounds like a question of Ministry bureaucracy . . . Hm - is there a reason to involve Percy Weasley here . . .? It'd be either his or Hermione's bailiwick, I suppose.

Deathstone would be just be cheating though.

Oh, certainly - and how would you explain how you obtained the knowledge?

I don't think that Galen's date of death is solidly established enough for that to be a plot hole; I might infer that it was at the same year as he ends up in Fuyuki (though dimensional bullshit means that may not be the case, could be earlier or later; I don't actually know when you started writing, due to the Great Forum Purge, but I'd assume that would line up)

Legacies of Fate was circa 2005, when I joined the original forum - but I'll admit that I no longer remember when Trinity proper was begun (and my original files were on floppy disks, so I can't reliably check for a "created on" date).

I can't actually find many references to the year in the prologues; it's apparently after 2008 in Truth and Consequences. Takara canonically has seen all the movies, sopost-2011, but you were writing before that. The Dress is 2005, so there's lots of margin.

Takara's TYPE-MOON birth year was set as 2001, since I was under the impression Tsukihime took place in 2000; as such, the Sixth Holy Grail War is set in 2018, a few weeks prior to her seventeenth birthday. As such, she has a reason to have seen them all. I was 26 when I started writing, and wrote Galen accordingly at the time - but there was a certain level of ambiguity, even then, I suppose.

When reading, I tend to treat it as "recent enough", but the 10+ year gap at this point for extended canon does merit some explanation.

Yeah, it does. Fortunately, the Kaleidostick is a previously-introduced element in Trinity's canon, so I have some leeway there.

[Xamusel]

True, the act of being an author is good for having a cover story, I get that. I just hope you get to explore it more with your characters.

[Kieran]

We shall see . . .

[Xamusel]

Oh, Kieran, could you please go back to the Grail Works story you have going on still? It's been months since the last chapter.

[Kieran]

Oh, Kieran, could you please go back to the Grail Works story you have going on still? It's been months since the last chapter.

So, after a month of trying to focus on that, I'm at roughly 3 pages done out of my usual 10 per chapter - which is about half a page more than I had prior to that. I think I'm better off writing whatever comes to mind until my muse feels like cooperating, because at least then, something will be written . . .

[Arbitrarity]

I sort of figured after the second week. Can't necessarily force that sort of thing.

Not sure if planning future scenes would help spark your interest, though you've probably come at it from a few different directions. Hopefully it'll percolate given time; I've definitely experienced being stuck in a rut with an idea until it gets enough time in the back of my mind.

[Xamusel]

Sorry about that, Kieran. I'm honestly that annoyed that I was bugging you to do more than you could.

[Kieran]

I sort of figured after the second week. Can't necessarily force that sort of thing.

No, unfortunately - but I thought I'd try . . .

Not sure if planning future scenes would help spark your interest, though you've probably come at it from a few different directions.

I've done one - kind of - but I had it ready before this, so does it really count . . .?

Hopefully it'll percolate given time; I've definitely experienced being stuck in a rut with an idea until it gets enough time in the back of my mind.

Yeah, and this is hardly the first time, either. But to use the oft-quoted phrase, "I hate it when that happens . . ."

Sorry about that, Kieran. I'm honestly that annoyed that I was bugging you to do more than you could.

*Shakes head* No, it's a good thing - I occasionally need a kick in the proverbial posterior, either as a reminder (because I have a memory like a sieve, these days), or to keep me from slipping into a routine. Once I put something off once, it becomes easier to do so again, and to keep putting it off until it withers away. That's not something I want to have happen, so the periodic slap upside the head is handy. Thank you.

. . . That said, though, I think I'm likely to write snippets (and probably Trinity-themed ones) for a bit longer, because it's what the imagination seems to want to write - but it will keep me writing to a schedule, which is important. Sorry.

[Xamusel]

You're welcome, Kieran, loathe as I am to say it like that... I don't want to pester you to do anything you're not ready for.

[Kieran]

Continuing from an earlier (or later, depending on your point of view) sequence . . .








12 Grimmauld Place
London, England
December 30, 2006








To Takara’s complete unsurprise, upon looking for Galen, she found him sitting in the reading nook with a cat in his lap. The identity of the cat, however, was a surprise.

“OK, I’ll bite—what did you bribe Crookshanks with that would get him away from Hermione?” the eldest Aozaki daughter asked.

He’d basically refused to let Hermione out of his sight since she’d become human again, as if afraid she’d revert to vampirism at any moment . . . It was a fear that, if Takara was honest, she couldn’t quite dismiss. Nor could any of them, really—it was still so new, so miraculous, that none of them really had their heads wrapped around it yet, even almost a week later.

But that would change, eventually—so this conversation needed to be had before that happened . . .

“Hermione’s in the bath,” Galen answered her question, even as a lazy drawl entered his voice to match the equally lazy smile stretching across his face. “With all the bubbles.”

“Ah,” Takara acknowledged in understanding. While the cats could enjoy bubble wands, bubble bath was a sticky, horrible-tasting menace—and much too similar to the shampoo used on their fur for their peace of mind.

“So,” her husband continued, “being the clever cat that he is, Hermione’s best boy decided that it was time to collect his rightful tribute.”

Crookshanks huffed, as though annoyed—but he leaned in when Galen scratched behind an ear.

Like witch, like familiar, Takara thought with amusement. Though by that logic, anyone who knew us at school might assume that Crookshanks was mine, and Mirai was Hermione’s . . .

But that did give her an opening—and so Takara said, quietly but clearly, “Or perhaps he’s spotted what Hermione hasn’t . . . Not yet, at least.”

While she’d refined what Legilimency talent and techniques she had, Takara knew, objectively, that they were half-remembered, at best—or at worst, recreated from what damaged or all-but-destroyed records that Aoko had managed to salvage. Her success in the field largely relied on the fact that she was basically the third-most powerful witch on Earth, and those techniques were specifically designed to break things, be they Occlumency protections or people. By contrast, her husband had spent the last decade building himself into a comparative master of the Mind Arts, on top of the fact that he was likely the most powerful wizard on Earth, and second only to Ilya in terms of raw magical power . . . All of which was a very convoluted way of saying that if Galen really didn’t want her to know something, he could hide it from her.

As such, Takara took it as a point of pride that when he sighed, his body language was resigned more than defensive; he had no intention of hiding this from her, or even deflecting, and it pleased her to see how far he’d come from their school days.

We’ve done well.

“I can practically see the storm clouds gathering around you,” she continued carefully, “but I’m not sure why. What could you possibly be angry about, with Hermione finally cured?”

“It’s frustrating,” he grumbled, scowling as he did so. “After ten years of hunting every historical or mythological fragment I could find, twisting everything I knew about vampirism upside-down and inside out, looking for anything that might give me a lever to undo what had been done to her . . . All of it, not just useless, but ultimately wasted.” He laughed bitterly. “I ought to have known she’d find the cure herself—if anybody was capable of it, it was Hermione.”

Takara carefully did not remind him that as with his lycanthropy, Hermione had unexpectedly stumbled upon the cure, rather than seeking it out—she was sure that there was more to his mood than that and didn’t want to derail the conversation. Instead, she picked a response that would encourage him to continue.

“It is a bit aggravating,” she said, admitting to her own frustration with the matter. A decade of alchemical studies and failed attempts wore on her, after all—and to have them rendered ultimately pointless . . .

“But at least,” she noted, “I can turn what I’ve learned and done into other projects—and to be fair, you’ve accomplished some important things in the course of your studies, too.”

“Which helps ameliorate the failures of them,” Galen countered, “You know that as well as I do, I’m sure . . . But it doesn’t deal with the underlying anger, Takara.”

Crookshanks proved why he was Hermione’s cat: he was clever enough to jump off and dart out of the way before Galen got up and started pacing.

“I couldn’t protect her—couldn’t stop from being turned,” he growled. “I couldn’t avenge her, anyone responsible died too quickly—so I channelled all my frustrations, all my rage, into saving her . . . And I couldn’t even do that.” He stopped, closed his eyes, and inhaled deeply, before exhaling slowly; one of his standard calming techniques.

Galen opened his eyes, and looked at her, “And I hate the fact, at least as much as all the rest, that I can be so fucking petty as to feel that way, when she’s finally whole again—”

This once, Takara would overlook the profanity, given the circumstances—besides, Elise was sleeping, so she couldn’t hear it.

“I understand,” she interrupted. “It’s not like I don’t feel the same, at least to some degree.”

Galen scowled. “I know—which is another reason I’m angry at myself. I’m an Occlumens, I should have better control of myself . . .”

He sighed. “But all those promises to help her regain her humanity, and in the end, I’m bloody useless.”

“Is that what you think?”

Takara’s mouth hung open—because she hadn’t replied.








Hermione stared at her husband and wife in disbelief, glancing back and forth between them. Galen got the lion’s share, of course, but from Takara’s expression, she did feel at least a portion of his feelings, as well.

I told you everything about what happened, the British witch thought furiously. How on earth could you—you, of all people—listen to every word I said, and still completely miss the point . . .?

After a beat, Hermione remembered that she couldn’t project to him anymore, and she mirrored Galen’s calming technique.

“. . . I’ve never actually thanked you before, have I?” Hermione said suddenly, glancing between Galen and Takara. “Either of you, really.”

Galen and Takara blinked in a near-synchronised fashion, traded glances, and then looked back at her.

“For . . .?” Galen prompted, genuinely puzzled.

“Well . . .” Hermione bit her lip, suddenly unsure, before beginning in a breathless tone. “I can see all your memories, remember? And while, like all of the characters, Emma was a softened portrayal for the big screen, my literary counterpart wasn’t always a nice person—or even a good one.”

“No one’s perfect, Hermione,” Galen said kindly. “And it was clear to me that Hermione Granger generally did things with the best of intentions, regardless of the medium—”

“Even Emma Obliviated her own parents from behind,” Hermione said sharply. “And I might’ve looked like her, but you had no way of knowing I wouldn’t be closer to the books—Heroic Spirits can be twisted to resemble what people expect to see, after all.” The British witch shook her head. “No, you took a risk, befriending me, and you knew it when you did it.”

“And you know why,” Galen said quietly, with a trace of weariness that was born of self-recrimination.

Hermione glared at him. “If you were as much of a rabid fanboy as you think, then once the troll and the threats to my life were dealt with, that would’ve been all. You’d have been sufficiently blinded by obsession not to think beyond the idea that because I was Hermione, I was flawless and always right—but you did more than that. I wasn’t able to see it at the time, but with the context of the films, the books, and the perspective that age—that hindsight—brings, I can see it clearly.

“You spent years helping me to smooth over my worst qualities, and polish up my better ones,” she said quietly, “and teaching me why I should try to.”

Galen shrugged. “As you said—with the perspective of age and hindsight, I was hoping to at least keep you from making my mistakes, if not your canon ones.”

“Because . . .?” the British witch prompted. “The honest answer, Galen.”

“. . . I was hoping you’d be happier,” he said finally. “Even outside of the war’s events, there was very little description of smiles and laughter where you were concerned, as things went on—and that seemed unfair.”

“And for that, you were willing to put up with a bossy little know-it-all with buckteeth and positively frightful hair—”

“Stop fishing, Hermione,” Galen said dryly. “You have been through my memories, so you know perfectly well that you were adorable.”

“Only to you and my parents,” she countered, equally dryly.

“I beg to differ, chérie,” Takara interjected with a teasing smile. “You didn’t see yourself waltzing around the common room with Crookshanks.”

A corner of Hermione’s mind noted that she was adapting to blush reactions much faster than some of her newly-restored biological functions—and found that unsurprising, seeing as her spouses seemed determined to elicit one from her in every conversation . . .

“In any case,” Hermione said firmly, “you made it clear that you accepted me, unconditionally, even if I didn’t understand why.

“Yes—'it was a fanboy crush,’ I know,” she cut off Galen’s attempt to interrupt. “But that’s how all attraction starts—and you treated me like a person, not an idol. And it wouldn’t explain her.”

“I was six when the last book about your part of the franchise came out,” Takara said. “Ten, for the last movies. And while I might’ve been more interested in the boy hero who reminded me of Father—especially when the actor playing him had blue eyes—I admired a lot about you, Hermione.”

Hermione blinked, surprised to find that even after so long together, parts of Takara’s past were still unknown to her; she took a bit of comfort from that fact that, going by his expression, that was true for Galen, too . . .

No! She refused to get sidetracked now—they were going to have this out, once and for all!

“Regardless of the reasons, you were my first friends,” Hermione said sharply. “You supported me, encouraged me, and even in our lowest times, I still, in my heart of hearts, believed that if I ever really needed you, you’d be there—no matter how angry we were at each other . . .

“And then I died,” she said bluntly, “and you proved it.”

She focussed on Galen, eyes narrowed. “You were an utter idiot—risking your life and soul on a theory that even you were half-convinced was a delusion of wishful thinking—and I told you that then . . . But I also know that you never considered not trying; and it wasn’t because you were feeling suicidal—not really. You were just determined not to let me go. I meant that much to you.

“And you are even more impressive, in a way,” Hermione continued, shifting her attention to Takara. “I became your walking, waking nightmare . . . And you managed to see past it.” Seeing her wife about to raise an objection, she continued fiercely, “That you didn’t do so immediately means nothing in the face of the fact that you were able to do it at all, Takara—and it was just as important, if not more so, in the end.”

She glanced between them. “Do neither of you see it? The two of you kept me human, kept me hoping—because in spite of every dead end, every failure, you never doubted that we’d find some way to break the curse. You refused to give up, however long it might take, because you loved me . . . Honestly—do you think a revenant vampire could’ve passed the judgement?” Hermione’s voice darkened as she demanded, “Do you think I would’ve been any different from one of them, without you? After a decade of bloodthirst eating at my humanity, assuming I’d retained any when I rose?”

Hermione shook her head. “I earned the cure because of who I am—but you are the reason that I could. And even though I’m not immortal anymore, I will love you both forever, for everything you’ve done for me.”

She fixed her eyes on Galen and said quietly “I know you’re angry; you want something to fight, to beat . . . But you did. You beat them the moment you made the choice to feed me willingly, out of love; every time you fought for my rights, for our relationship—when either of you did—you beat them.

“My father told you years ago: you did save me,” she concluded fiercely. “And he was righter than any of us knew.”

Takara smiled. “We love you, too, Hermione.”

“Obviously,” she drawled.

“. . . Thank you, Hermione,” Galen said, a touch hoarsely—and though she wasn’t quite certain about it, he did seem calmer, lighter.

“As I said, I should be saying that to you,” Hermione countered, before suddenly shivering—the warm glow of pride in her chest, it seemed, was no match for the chill of wearing nothing but a bathrobe in December.

“But if you really want to thank me,” she added, “either share some of that excess body heat of yours, or Summon me some clothes, would you . . .?”










Writer's Notes: This scene has been bugging me for a week . . .

[Arbitrarity]

Takara carefully did not remind him that as with his lycanthropy, Hermione had unexpectedly stumbled upon the cure, rather than seeking it out
[...]
Honestly—do you think a revenant vampire could’ve passed the judgement?

A couple of small hints here, hm. Not obviously alchemical, nor vampire-myth-related, and she was judged, in presumably a moral sense. Looking at my other hints, that continues to point at unicorns or phoenixes, though it does raise my estimation on unicorns somewhat; they're known for being quite picky, but I usually don't think of them as capable of complex moral judgement. At the same time though, it fits in too many other ways to throw out. I initially had some other guesses but forgot to cross-reference first.

Beyond rampant speculation, this is a very sweet snippet, doing the full cathartic cycle from the first conflict. I especially like the distinction drawn with

“You spent years helping me to smooth over my worst qualities, and polish up my better ones,” she said quietly, “and teaching me why I should try to.”

as a dismissal of Galen's fanboy deflection; it's subtle but sufficient, and has some depth to it. It pairs well with some older conversations, though there are more little things than I can really list.

Also coming back to the anger is an elegant redirection. Well-structured persuasion, lovely language choices and tying it back in a way that should stick.

[Kieran]

A couple of small hints here, hm. Not obviously alchemical, nor vampire-myth-related, and she was judged, in presumably a moral sense. Looking at my other hints, that continues to point at unicorns or phoenixes, though it does raise my estimation on unicorns somewhat; they're known for being quite picky, but I usually don't think of them as capable of complex moral judgement. At the same time though, it fits in too many other ways to throw out. I initially had some other guesses but forgot to cross-reference first.

As I said in the initial snippet, you really won't have enough information (probably, at least) to guess unless or until I actually do write it out in full . . . Some decent guesses, though.

Beyond rampant speculation, this is a very sweet snippet, doing the full cathartic cycle from the first conflict.

Thank you.

I especially like the distinction drawn with “You spent years helping me to smooth over my worst qualities, and polish up my better ones,” she said quietly, “and teaching me why I should try to.”

as a dismissal of Galen's fanboy deflection; it's subtle but sufficient, and has some depth to it. It pairs well with some older conversations, though there are more little things than I can really list.

The one line I couldn't manage to fit in was that Galen wanted Hermione "to have - to be - the best you possibly could." That, ultimately, was the means he chose to reach his goal - which was that she be happier. And whatever else vampirism did for or to her, it gave her the insight into his thoughts, while allowing her to retain her outside observational perspective, to let her understand that . . . It just took her some time and maturity to fully appreciate it - but that happens as a part of growing up.

Also coming back to the anger is an elegant redirection. Well-structured persuasion, lovely language choices and tying it back in a way that should stick.

It was an issue I thought needed addressing, because Galen was murderously furious when she was turned; and he had no one and nothing to take it out on, because Riddle and the Tohnos died before he could get to them. So he channelled it into finding a cure, whatever it took - and when it finally happened, it had nothing to do with him. To say that he'd be beyond frustrated would be one of those criminal understatements; all the more so because he hates wasted effort, and because he's self-aware enough by now to realise he's being petty, and hate that. too . . .

Hence the reminder - he did need it.

[Kieran]

DISCLAIMER: Certain dialogue is taken from the Power Rangers RPG: Core Rulebook (I'm certain you can guess which), which is developed by Renegade Game Studios. Power Rangers itself is the creation Haim Saban and Shuki Levy, among others, and currently the property of Hasbro.



Hogwarts Castle, Scotland
May 2, 1998








Nobody saw it coming, although they should have.

They had already collected most of the obvious facts involved, after all: Voldemort was fully capable of concocting and executing convoluted plans with backups and fail-safes, often taking years to reach fruition. He was also a vindictive son of a bitch, perfectly willing to destroy what he couldn’t possess; and he’d broken into the Ministry years before—to hear a prophecy, they’d thought at the time, and he’d certainly tried, but he’d also laid a Portkey enchantment as a later trap, allowing him to kidnap Neville’s grandmother long afterwards.

. . . Really, it should’ve come as no surprise that, on his way through the Department of Mysteries, he might’ve made another stop. But it hadn’t occurred to any of them, either at the time or years later—and so Voldemort’s dying curse, a final strike at his enemies, went unnoticed, until it was too late.

With the death of the Dark Lord, the Department of Mysteries ended its lockdown, returning once more to “normal” reality; and the enchantment, sensing the link to its master’s life having been severed, did as it was meant to do—and blew the veiled arch in the Room of Death to pieces.

And it took the world—or at least, a very significant part of that world—with it.











The world dissolved into a rainbow of colours, and Takara found herself blinking white spots out of her eyes as it seemed to reform around her . . .

Instinctively, she reached for her weapons, but neither Mellinoë nor her wand answered her call, her fingers clenching for things that suddenly weren’t there—and nor, she realised with a rising horror, was the magic she would use to do so. But if her magic was a deepening hollow in her being, there was nothing wrong with her reflexes, and the Nanaya heiress’ muscles tensed in wariness at the realisation that she’d fallen into a very dangerous trap . . .

Her eyes scanned her surroundings—not especially well-lit, with a lot of consoles and towers with blinking lights that would’ve looked high-tech in a 1980s sci-fi film (Heaven knew, she’d watched enough of them on “mandatory movie nights”). Of particular interest was the large globe off to one side—but it was far too ludicrously oversized to be a crystal ball. A central column in the room seemed to be a tube, filled with blue liquid or gas of some kind . . .

In the fraction of a second it took Takara to comprehend that, she turned her attention to her friends.

Luna looked curious, but otherwise outwardly unruffled. No surprise there; she frequently baffled Hermione, the smartest person Takara knew, as well as both her boys—and that took talent . . .

Neville and Ginny were both wary glancing around. They had settled into that mutual stance of theirs which would allow Neville to cover her from nearly any direction—and Ginny to launch an attack, similarly . . .

Hermione was noticeably pale, considering that she hadn’t dropped her human guise. More than that, she was wide-eyed and hyperventilating; if Takara didn’t know better, she’d think the vampire witch was having a heart attack—

. . . And upon realising that neither Galen nor Shirou was present, Takara felt a clenching in her own chest.

Energy flared suddenly, centring on that blue-substance-filled tube, and revealing (or Conjuring) a humanoid face within it.

“Greetings, humans,” said the giant floating head. “I am Zordon, an interdimensional being caught in a time warp.”

Part of the technological detritus suddenly stood upright, revealing itself to be a humanoid form with a saucer-shaped head, which introduced itself as “Alpha-5.”

“I have called you five here,” continued Zordon, “because your planet is in grave danger. Behold the viewing globe . . .”

As he continued, Takara tried to puzzle out the sense of déjà vu this was giving her—but it wasn’t until Zordon said the words “Power Rangers” that it finally clicked.

Right—this is the American Super Sentai rip-off then . . .

Takara would have been annoyed at herself for not recognising it sooner, but the series had been old when she was born; and this looked nothing like the movie that had been released the first time she was a teenager. Galen probably would’ve recognised it—

A pang shot through her at the thought. Where was he . . .?

“Though General Repulsa threatens the entire Earth, she focuses the majority of her attacks here in Angel Grove,” Zordon explained. “She knows that the Zeo Crystal. buried well beneath what is now the city of Angel Grove. powers the defenses that protect this planet from her invasion fleet. That is why you have been summoned here, to the Command Center just outside of Angel Grove city. It is here that we will train you in the use of your powers, your equipment, and your own personal intuitive A.I.-reactive giant armored battle mech, otherwise known as your ‘Zords.’ Endowed with the power of thunder, these Zords will be your ultimate weapons in battle.

“Neville, stalwart and strong—you shall possess the Lion Thunderzord,” the alien intoned. “Luna, curious and graceful, the Firebird Thunderzord will answer your call. Hermione, clever and nimble; the Unicorn Thunderzord will carry you into battle. Ginny, cunning and fierce; the Griffin Thunderzord is yours. And Takara, as the leader of the Power Rangers, you shall command the mighty White Tigerzord.”

A surreptitious brushing of Hermione’s fingers against her elbow caused Takara to glance at her—and in that glance, she understood that something about what Zordon had said was not right.

(For that matter, it didn’t sound right to her, either—weren’t the Zords supposed to be dinosaurs . . .?)

“May we have a moment to discuss this in privacy, please?” she said at last. “This is fairly overwhelming.”

“I understand, Takara,” Zordon said graciously. “Alpha, if you would . . .?”

Alpha-5 touched a control, and a doorway made of light slid open.

“You may leave the Command Centre—but please, do not go far,” the giant floating head requested. “Our defences can only shield you from detection while in close proximity to them.”

“We understand, Zordon,” Takara said. “We shouldn’t be long . . .”








“All right—what in Merlin’s name is going on?” Ginny demanded. “How did we get here, where the heck is here—?!”

Her litany of demands was cut off by Luna suddenly squealing, and lunging at Hermione in the sort of crushing glomp that was normally the vampire witch’s own specialty.

“—And why are you doing that, Luna . . .?” she sighed exasperatedly.

Luna whirled, beaming. “Because she’s OK, of course!”

Takara studied Hermione critically. Based on her colour, and the way she was wheezing, “OK” wouldn’t have been her choice when it came to describing . . .

Takara stopped, and really looked at the way Hermione was breathing, her blush reactions—all the little reflexive actions that were automatic to a living being—

“You’re human,” Takara breathed. “Hermione, how—?”

The older witch’s expression looked pained.

“I don’t know,” she said. “Not ‘how,’ at least—but I can certainly guess ‘who.’”

Is that why he’s gone . . .?

The question was just as clearly written on Hermione’s face, and Takara’s stomach felt like it dropped out of her body—because aside from Galen or Ilya, Hermione would be the one to know.

“Where is he?” Neville asked. “Where’s Shirou? And where are we . . .?”

Hermione drew in a breath, visibly centring herself.

“I can’t answer the first two questions,” she admitted. “This place, though, is a setting called Power Rangers—where Earth is defended from alien and monstrous attacks by groups of ‘teenagers with attitudes.’”

“Ah,” Luna said suddenly. “That makes perfect sense, then.”

Takara blinked, before asking the obvious question. “What does?”

“Why neither Galen, Shirou, nor Ilya are here, of course,” the little blonde said airily. “They’re not teenagers, after all—not really.”

“. . . Neither am I, when you put it like that,” Takara pointed out, feeling mildly insulted.

“No, she has a point,” Hermione mused. “In terms of years lived, yes, you’re not a teenager—but you’ve never really gotten out of your teenaged years, either . . . And I suppose that in the absence of Shirou, who’d obviously qualify for the Red Ranger position and Red Dragon Thunderzord, your being our leader makes sense. As do the Thunderzords, I suppose; the Tigerzord is one of the few that can combine with all the others of its line into a Megazord . . .

“Though some of this still doesn’t add up,” she continued. “That wasn’t Zordon’s original speech, obviously—and more importantly, he never referred to Rita as ‘General Repulsa.’” She bit her lip worriedly. “Something else is going on here.”

Takara wanted to simultaneously groan and smile; the first, because of the implied issues—and the second, because Hermione sounded so much like Galen in her choice of words and tone of voice, and didn’t even seem to realise it . . .

If you were here, you’d know what was going on, what to do—or at least, you’d be able to make us believe you did, and the reassurance would be worth almost as much.

And that, Takara realised, was what she needed to do, now.

“There always is,” she said firmly, “and we’ll handle it together, like we always have . . . And I’m sure we’ll run into Galen and Shirou at some point,” Takara added. “The Power Rangers universe is vast; they have decades of sentai series to steal from—”

“Thirty-six that Galen was aware of, at last count,” Hermione added, with a sort of grim amusement. “And the way it’s laid out here means that they could be in another city, or another galaxy.”

“Like KO-35?” Ginny asked suddenly. “Whenever I think of ‘home,’ that’s what comes up.”

“A human colony on another planet,” Hermione said automatically. “Its members developed telekinetic abilities . . . Of course, that’s the stand-in for magic. It definitely sounds like Ilya’s ‘adaptation spell’ at work—and with Galen’s touch.”

“They’re definitely out there,” Takara said fiercely. “And they’re still looking out for us . . . Which means it's up to us to look after things here until we can find them.”

The group traded looks and nodded among themselves.

“So,” Neville said carefully, “just how, exactly, does this ‘Power Ranger’ thing work . . .?”
















Forward Operating Base, Angel Grove
Three weeks later

















It was the radio that woke him. Aside from the fact that the music wasn’t remotely to his taste, the lyrics struck a little too close to home . . .

Shirou blinked, then reflexively began ordering things in his mind.

So, I’m not a wizard any longer—or a magic-user of any kind. In fact, I’m a lawyer, like I originally intended to be, at least as a secondary career . . . I’m also still married, with a daughter.

A bit of tension unknotted within Shirou’s being. Being without Ilya would’ve been bad—bad enough, honestly, but not unforeseen, with his personal and family history—but losing Ai . . .?

I’d have burned this world to ashes or died in the attempt, and nothing would’ve stopped me.

Instead, he still had his family, but there was no sign of his friends in his memories—not even Takara, who he arguably had the most shared background with.

Which is weird, because this “Global Initiative Joint Operations Entity” sounds right up her alley . . .

Ai’s sudden cries caused Ilya to stir beneath him and rise to attend to her.

“Ilya?” he asked once she’d settled within the room. “What’s going on?”

“. . . How much are your memories telling you?” she asked after a beat, using shifting Ai’s nursing position as cover for the pause.

“I belong to a U.N.-sponsored special operations unit,” Shirou answered, consulting his “native” persona. “Though I’m currently still a trainee, at the moment, I’m tasked to investigate the city of Angel Grove and its ‘Power Rangers’ phenomena, because they seem most often involved with teenagers, and I can pass . . . The mission is to locate or dismiss possible links to the terrorist organisation we’re generally tasked to counter—or worse, the possibility they might be able to get their hands on some of the capabilities these things are purported to be able to have . . .”

He stopped, blinking, before frowning at his wife.

“. . . And have I mentioned how much I hate these memory dumps?”

“It’s not my doing this time,” Ilya said defensively. “I’m strictly human, in every sense—I had no control over the spell, or what it did.”

It was on the tip of Shirou’s tongue to ask who did, when a more important question sprang to mind.

“Will Dad remember?”

“. . . Everyone who used a Kaleidostick should be protected,” Ilya said, after a moment. “They’re what I based the protections on, after all—so Papa, Uncle Shiki if we can find him . . . Rin, if she’s here.

“And all your friends, either because they’re the focus of the spell, like Takara and Galen, or associated with a power that could invoke it,” Ilya added. “The Wand, to ‘beat’ the influence of entering another paradigm; the Stone to ‘summon’ the soul, unchanged, despite the paradigm, or the Cloak, to ‘conceal’ oneself from it . . .

“Though where they’ve ended up,” Ilya finished, “I couldn’t tell you.”

“Ten bucks says somewhere in Angel Grove, if it’s as central a location as it seems,” Shirou piped up.

Ilya pouted. “. . . Darn it, Shirou—that should be my line!”

With no small amount of irony, Shirou replied, deadpan, “Never bet against G. I. JOE.”
















Even later
Beneath Angel Grove
















No matter how many they smashed through, there always seemed to be a dozen more Putty Patrollers, blocking their way—even with their new allies’ help.

Still, the Rangers fought on, desperate to keep the Zeo Crystal out of enemy hands—even as the crystal itself sent pulses of energy throughout the cave in increasing intensity, accompanied by a high-pitched sound akin to a chorus, calling out “ZEO!” . . .

“You’re too late, Power Punks!” snarled Goldar.

The winged alien, who resembled a cross between one of the Wicked Witch’s flying monkeys and Zuul from the Ghostbusters films (and clad in golden armour that screamed “Gilgamesh envy,” Shirou had remarked) had yet to actually enter the fight. Still, past performance suggested that he’d be an even match for most or all of them, even discounting the potential help of the skeletal Rito Revolto—who was as powerful as he was stupid.

“In moments, we will have the Zeo Crystal,” he boasted. “My Empress will possess ultimate power, and your world will be defenceless!”

*ZEO!*

Hermione winced as the latest pulse flashed through the cave, even shielded as she was from the brightness by her helmet visor—the crystal had power, but no means of focussing it to protect itself . . .

The Blue Ranger froze, as she suddenly spotted something on the walls of the cave, between the stalactites. It might have been a trick of the rock layering, or of light and shadow—but if it was real . . .

“Eagle Eye!” she called. “I need you to repeat this phrase—in as loud and deep a voice as you can!”

Shirou looked baffled but accommodated her request, even as she relayed a second one to Takara.

“Freedom is the right of all sentient beings,” he intoned.

“Pretty final words, human,” Goldar growled, “but—"

“. . .We cannot let the humans pay for our mistakes!” the White Ranger finished, her voice ringing like steel.

“. . . Er, what?” the golden warrior sputtered. “That makes no sense . . .! But no matter. Feigning madness will not save you; nothing can save y—”

Suddenly, the cavern was filled with a beam of light as long and wide as Goldar was tall.








O̶̢̧̢͖̞̣̘͔̰̣̙̺͔̥̥̬̍͂̐͑̈́̾̈̾̊̿̔̃͗͋͜͠͝p̶̡̫̼̣̦̜̹̣̉͛͗̈͜ ̨͚̪̗̣͙ţ̴̨̨̮̱͚͔̰̰̺͕͖̟̻̱̈́̋̈́͜į̶̣̳͍͕̟̗̝̪͓͐̌ͅm̷̛͒̇̋̈́̕ ͉͎̺̥̺̗̮̳͉͕̫̳̗͊̑͗̽̉̚͜ù̵̢̥̙̜͚̗̹̳͊̐̍̐̀͗͑͋́̓͒͌̏̿̇͜͜͝ͅ s̵̨̥͚̜͚͓̖̙̙̹̘̫̲̦̲̳̆̒͐̾̋́̉̂̃͊̊͆̊͜͝ ̸̨̨̨̪̗̥̖̞̼̼̗̻̳̟̣͑͂̾̔̀̀̇̄̚͜ͅ.̵̢̦̱̼͉͉̙͔̽̃́̄̐̐̈̀͝ ͖̮̦͚ ̵̡̡̰̥̈́͊̉̌͑.̵̢̜̪̘̮̗̭̣̘̞̅̾̏̆͐̈́̆̅͛̉̎͘͝ͅ ̴̼̖̪̩̼̝̼͓̱̥̺̤̋̽́̇.̶̨̢̛̦̐̌̉̋̃͘?̴̡̰̦̰̱̳͔̲̟͈̱̪͈̞͍̽̓́̽ ̯



[Systems online. Power reserves at 68% and climbing. Beginning diagnostic . . .]




Ņ̵̱͍̰̍̑̆̚o̷̡̢̨̜͕̠̦̤̯̠̪̱͓͙̟̬̻͗—̴̢̛̰̬̀͒̃̐̕͝͝Ḯ̶̆̋̍̀ ̲̹̥̜̠̦̾̑͆̉̎̃͗̉̀͝͠[̷̧̢͙̗͕̘̤͙̲̖̭͂̉̔͆/̵̨̢̭̟͔̠̱͇̫̗͈̮͕̦̙̓̔̇̉̅͜͝I̴͔͆̓́̒̀̇̍͒̾͐̂̉͘͝͠]̸̢̡͚̪͇̮̖͈̮̹̗̲́̚ ̶̡̘̪͖͛́̐̀̓͒̓̈́́͑̚k̷̛̭̲̥͕͚͖͙̐̒͐̊̾̿̽̕͝n̴̼̻̆͜o̷͛̆̃̐̅̅͆ ̮̘̙͎̭͍̄̏̀͋w̵̧̛̯̠̼͉͙͕̻̘̩͐͐͗̐̈́̿͘͝ ̶̛̛͕͈̞̼͆̅̐͒̿̔̓͘͘͝ͅ[̴̡̢̡͙̝̙͕̩̳̩̲̹͔̉͆́͛Į̷̛̣̙͇̬̯̜̥̗̽͛̽̇̾̐̑̃͐̏͊̓͐͆͝͝ ͖̭]̷̡̢̼͇̱͍̘͕̜̜̟̜̲̲͉̒̈́͆̆̊̀̅̀́̊̓̌͝͝t̵̡̧̜̜͊̓́̆̉͆̓̈́̅̈́͗͂̂͘ ̧̡̨̫͈̮͓̦̺̜̲͓̪h̴̛͕̱͍̭̗̥̥̅̆̇̈̀̿͛̽a̴̧̨̱̯͍͇̹̙͓͖͝t̴͐̄̓̑ ͚̰̩̻̱̱̣͍̽͋̃̊̈́̑̅̌̃͆͘͝͝ ̵̡̹͈̩̝̥͚̯̰̞̩͚̩̓̋̃̋̆̓͗̅v̷̧̙̻̹͉͔͇͔̬̱͛̓͘ó̸̃̽̈̉̓̈́̂͋́͘ ̧͈̼̬͎͔̍̈́͘͘į̶̜͓̩̻̟͉̠̻̹̲̟͋c̶̨̛̯̭̲̼̼͇̮̞̮̲̖̣̝͐̎̈́̋̊e̵̕ ̡̡͈͙̹̰̝̭̩̦̗̞͇ ̷̤̏̋̏.̴̠̣̞͕͔͖͇̦̰͗͌̓̉̅͒͘ͅ ̷̛̖̲͔̮͕̘̙̰̣̥͈̯̫̯̤̄͌̃̈́̆̔͗̄̑͊̃͂̕͜ͅ.̵̧̛̙̣̻͖͕̳̭̭̼̙͕̃͗ͅ ͈̻ ̸̨̝̤͓̭̤͕̺̙̫͍̮̰͔̀͋ͅ.̶̧̭̭̞͈̤̭̙̝͍̽̈́̅̂̈͑̚




[Memory error detected: deep scan recommended. Engaging stasis lock—]



Ơ̷̛̞͚͔̪͎̻͎̣̇̽́̆̒̌̈͑̑̏̈́̕v̴̢̢̛̱͔̝̹̖̊̓̃͛e̶̢̯̜̖̠̰̽̓̃͘ ̢̡͕̗͉̮̩̘̰̬ŕ̶͚̖̃̓̔̿͋̓̽̚͘͝͝ . . . Override.



[Warning: proceeding without scan may result in fatal memory errors. Danger: extreme.]

OVERRIDE, DAMN IT!

[. . . Your funeral.]

Sensors came online first—audio tracking commenced immediately. Upon deciphering what was actually being said, the next function to be brought online was weapons systems.

Angles were calculated, systems calibrated, and power diverted, followed by a single shot to the most dangerous target perceivable in the chamber.

. . . Regrettably, he missed.








“Daaad,” groaned a half-conscious Rito, his tool for reaching the Zeo Crystal through its protective enchantments a destroyed stump in his hands. “Rita’s picking on me again . . .”

“Urrr—get off me, you dolt!” Goldar raged, hurling the semi-conscious brother of his commander away, before climbing to his feet and confronting the new threat, emerging from where it had apparently been entombed in the stone of the cavern.

It looked like a Zord, shaped in the form of some animal no doubt native to this world—large, yes (if small for a Zord), but he’d fought bigger and won.

“I warn you, beast,” Goldar intoned. “I am the right hand of General Repulsa, favoured servant of Lord Zedd, and I fear nothing and no o—”

In a sudden flash of light, the beast’s size doubled, and a maw the size of his torso abruptly looked more than large enough to swallow him whole . . . And then, of course, a light ignited in the depths of its maw, signalling another blast.

“Er, Goldar, old buddy?” Rito said nervously. “Maybe we ought to give this one up—not only is that a big gun, but that’s a big dog—and I’m made of bones, y’see . . .?”

The winged warrior took stock—that blast had not only (temporarily) stunned Rito and himself, and blown through several cave walls, it had vaporised most of the Putties, leaving the Rangers free to regroup.

Goldar snarled in frustration. “Next time, Rangers . . .!”

He teleported away.

Rito started, before doing the same.

“Hey, wait for me . . .!”








“Uh, if this is a Zord,” Ginny said cautiously, “then whose is it? And can they call it off . . .?”

“It’s not a Zord,” Hermione said softly. She didn’t blame Ginny for not seeing the details in the darkness of the cavern—the Zeo Crystal’s strobing effect harmed as much as it helped, in that regard—but knowing what she was seeing, it was impossible to mistake for anything else.

The mechanical beast growled warningly.

“Don’t take that tone with me!” Hermione snapped. “And drop the act. You might have played it off if you’d appeared after the first, but you reacted to both lines, which are part of the same scene but not the same speech—and your favourite part of the whole movie.”

“. . . Are you telling me,” Takara said slowly, “that that’s—”

With another abrupt flash of light, the behemoth shrank to its original size—and then, with a high-tech sound, began to change . . .

When it was done, a humanoid robot stood before them, coloured largely in silver and pewter—save, most strikingly, for a pair of cobalt-blue eyes.

“Hello everyone,” said the robot (no—Autobot, Hermione corrected herself) in Galen’s voice. “Small world, isn’t it . . .?”






Even later








“Why are you a Transformer?” Hermione demanded, before Takara could ask the same question.

“. . . Because this universe has vampires, and alien species that resemble them,” he said heavily, at last. “But we shared blood and magic, and I wasn’t cursed.”

Takara would freely admit that Hermione was smarter than she was, but the Japanese girl was no slouch—and specifically trained in the nature of curses and healing their damage.

“. . . I can’t be understanding this correctly,” she said. “Details, please.”

“The simple version,” the Autobot towering over her replied, “is that one of those of us coming through was always going to register as ‘not human’—I just picked me . . .”










Writer's Notes: Sorry this was late - I was up 'til 1:30 trying to finish and post it, and the site ate it once I was done . . . Naturally, I gave up and went to bed.

. . .So, yeah - that Power Rangers RPG I mentioned in the Mission Dossier thread? There's a whole line of Hasbro-themed games, all compatible with one another (in fact, there's an entire book devoted to that) - my inner 8-year-old is loving it. And with the release of My Little Pony game this week (also compatible), those long-ago snippets could now become canon . . .


This has been bugging me for weeks - maybe now I can get back to work on A Royal Mess . . .

[Arbitrarity]

Wait a minute, they have mechanically-compatible Transformers and My Little Pony? Madness.

The magical-themed Zords are a nice touch. It's kinda funny that Takara's isn't a thunder Zord, but it would be too awkward to word otherwise.
The Seven do seem like a coherent Power Rangers team. I also like how Takara is in the spotlight as team leader; more focus on Neville/Ginny/Luna is also welcome, though it's kind of jumped over by the nature of this being snippets. Galen being actually-inhuman has some similarities to things like making him a Foreigner in Grand Order snippets. Feels like he might end up in a more remote supportive role; it might be hard for him to participate in day-to-day team-building and so on.

[Kieran]

[QUOTE=Arbitrarity;3278069]Wait a minute, they have mechanically-compatible Transformers and My Little Pony? Madness.

And yet . . .

And while the ponies aren't included (because their game wasn't out when it was released), they're not only mechanically more-or-less the same, they've released a sourcebook specifically for the purpose of crossing over the games . . . And the ponies are mentioned as a possibility in it, anyways.

The magical-themed Zords are a nice touch.

Yeah - figuring out which Zords to give them was tricky. I initially had their Patronuses in mind, but I couldn't see them combining into a coherent Megazord (and fan fiction has already done "Patronus Rangers"). But since the game is a little wibbly-wobbly (to borrow from Doctor Who on its continuity, I thought this would work out fairly well.

It's kinda funny that Takara's isn't a thunder Zord, but it would be too awkward to word otherwise.

Yup . . . Amusingly, if Galen had ever managed a Patronus, it would've been a white tiger.

The Seven do seem like a coherent Power Rangers team.

I thought so.

I also like how Takara is in the spotlight as team leader; more focus on Neville/Ginny/Luna is also welcome, though it's kind of jumped over by the nature of this being snippets.

True - I didn't even include the rest of Shirou's squad, which I meant to do.

Galen being actually-inhuman has some similarities to things like making him a Foreigner in Grand Order snippets. Feels like he might end up in a more remote supportive role; it might be hard for him to participate in day-to-day team-building and so on.

Depends on his exact loadout - Pretenders are a thing . . .

[Kieran]

. . . OK, lacking the energy and focus to do anything else this weekend, I WAS going to create and put up Shirou, Takara and Galen's character sheets, just so you could see how they statted out - but it's turning out to be more work than I expected. Not simply finishing them (which is taking longer than I thought it would), but figuring out how to display them for you, without having to write them out twice.

So, in lieu of skipping things entirely this week, I'll simply post this picture, and note that if you swap the green one's colour for black, you'd have the Seven's Ranger forms:






. . . Terribly sorry about all this.

[Kieran]

The Crossed Roads Tavern
Knockturn Alley, London
August 31, 1998








Tracey Davis, on the whole, was not looking forward to going back to Hogwarts.

Unlike the prior year, this was not because she was under the direct eye of the Dark Lord, with a torturous death being very possible if she failed in any major aspect of supporting his aims and ambitions, or if she crossed the wrong rival in doing so. No, it was because the Dark Lord had failed, and she was undoubtedly going to be tarred with the same brush as his devoted followers when dealing with the victors of the recent conflict. No matter that she’d avoided Azkaban; willingly or otherwise, she’d been an agent of the Death Eaters. As such, facing the students of Hogwarts might not be as inherently lethal a situation as the one she’d just left, but it would be just as disastrous to her future prospects.

Then again, given seven of those students in particular, it was possible that returning to Hogwarts would be even more dangerous than fraternizing with the Death Eaters had been . . .

After all, she doubted any of them would just shrug off her role, however tangential or under duress, in the kidnapping of Takara Aozaki, and all that had followed—no, they absolutely wouldn’t. And since the Battle of Hogwarts had proven all of them to be some of the most dangerous witches and wizards on the planet, that made her future very bleak and uncertain, in Tracey’s estimation.

Or certain to be very brief, looking at it another way; after all, Galen Salvatore could apparently kill a werewolf bare-handed, by all reports, not to mention the fact that it seemed he just wouldn’t die no matter what happened, as everyone had been convinced of his death prior to his reappearance . . . And that was leaving aside what Aozaki herself might do, having a confirmed body count in the double digits, to say nothing of managing to slay a nesting mother dragon with a sword at fourteen—and then there were her friends, all of whom would undoubtedly want to see their own paid back . . .

No, Tracey held no illusions about her quality of life, or life expectancy, should she return to Hogwarts. Unfortunately, few other options were open to her—Durmstrang was undergoing stringent investigation, Beauxbatons was unlikely to welcome her, given that two alumna were being celebrated as “Heroes of Hogwarts,” and all other schools in Europe were not nearly so well-regarded. Ilvermorny, in America, had historical ties to Hogwarts, and as for Asia . . .

She recalled Shin Tohno, and shuddered.

Fortunately, she’d had a year to consider this possibility, and access to the movers and shakers of Britain—and their connections—for nearly as long. After all, as a rising star in youth following the Dark Lord, she’d been a bright spark to watch, and curry future favours with . . .

The moonstone had been a recent find, having been confiscated by the DMLE with a load of flying carpets. They’d been unable to use the Unspeakables to verify its powers (and no one had wanted to present the Dark Lord with a fraud), but by all accounts, it ought to contain one of those wish-granting creatures from its native folklore.

(Of course, those creatures in the stories ranged from mere tricksters to outright malevolent, but Tracey was a Slytherin—dealing with the type was first nature to her, never mind second.)

Perhaps it wouldn’t work, of course—but Tracey was desperate enough to try. As such, she’d thought long and hard about the wording of her wish, and spoke thus:

“I wish that Lord Voldemort had been defeated without the intervention of those referred to as the Scarlet Seven,” she proclaimed firmly.

As the moonstone glowed at her words, and a fierce wind begin to rise, the Slytherin witch felt hope—

But if she’d known the results of her wish, she might’ve instead chosen to never utter them . . .










Writer's Notes: and from that, we either jump to the canon Rowlingverse, or the Fourth Holy Grail War; I just couldn't decide which . . .