Trinity Angles (Discussion Thread)

[Xamusel]

Which movie was Hell Garou in? And when did they manage to do a rematch?

[Kieran]

Which movie was Hell Garou in?

The one Takara was part of as her twenty-sixth birthday present (sorry, I forgot to add "Continuing . . .") - obviously, not an actual Kamen Rider movie that exists in our world (darn it).

And when did they manage to do a rematch?

The rematch will be part of this special episode she's shooting now - something fans have been clamouring for over the last 15 years.

[Xamusel]

Could you please write a story about this present and rematch?

[Kieran]

Could you please write a story about this present and rematch?

Huh - that's a novel request, I have to admit . . . I almost certainly can, but what precisely are you looking to see (so I know what to focus on)? The fight scenes? Character interactions? Some other factor? All of the above?

[Arbitrarity]

Hah, the instant I saw "Garou" plus "suit actor", I knew.

I'm trying to work out how Seiko is Takara's cousin. She's Aoko's daughter, so if Shiki or Ciel counts as Aoko's sibling by adoption, they're first cousins? That tracks. There's probably some way to track it through Sirius/Galen's end, but that wouldn't apply to Takara except in-law. The annoying thing about "cousins" is that it's one of the most broad/ambiguous family relationships >.>
I was definitely expecting "Aunt" by age, but also by how Aoko insisted she was Takara's older sister.

[Xamusel]

Kieran, all of the above is my answer.

[Kieran]

Hah, the instant I saw "Garou" plus "suit actor", I knew.

Well, you have inside knowledge Seiko didn't . . .

I'm trying to work out how Seiko is Takara's cousin. She's Aoko's daughter, so if Shiki or Ciel counts as Aoko's sibling by adoption, they're first cousins? That tracks.

Yes, for starters.

There's probably some way to track it through Sirius/Galen's end, but that wouldn't apply to Takara except in-law.

But it is also true - Galen being Sirius' nephew makes him Seiko's biological cousin, whereas Takara is hers legally both prior to and because of her marriage.

The annoying thing about "cousins" is that it's one of the most broad/ambiguous family relationships >.>

You're not wrong . . .

I was definitely expecting "Aunt" by age, but also by how Aoko insisted she was Takara's older sister.

She may use that around her mother, but Takara essentially looks like she's in her early twenties; in public, it just makes Aoko seem older by association . . .

Really, she'd call Takara "big sister" if she could get away with it (they do look similar), but again, that would make her mother feel old . . . And Elise would no doubt initiate a catfight that do the Mesdames Edelfelt proud - quite possibly to the death.

Kieran, all of the above is my answer.

OK - again, this will take some planning . . . Not least because it will probably end up being multi-chapter . . . But why not? I could use some light stuff, after this week.

[Kieran]

Huh. Apparently, there's another possibility for the school uniform that Takara has traditionally been depicted wearing - and I would absolutely blame that series, with its being one of my first and favourite manga, except that I never saw the uniform in colour until now.

. . . Though now I have the urge to see if I can write a crossover . . .

[Kieran]

One of the many ideas I'm playing with right now - using my usual "Veil/Arch explodes, sends them to a new setting," would here be an interesting place . . .?

[Arbitrarity]

One of the many ideas I'm playing with right now - using my usual "Veil/Arch explodes, sends them to a new setting," would here be an interesting place . . .?

Ah, Magic the Gathering Hogwarts. Some very elegant character-college mappings, though Takara and Shirou feel a bit tricky to place (Witherbloom and Prismari? Both feel a bit off). I suppose now that it has a 5e campaign setting book, it's a bit easier to consider. There's something cute about it being a Magic University, as a follow-up to a Magic High School.

Most Magic settings are rather open-ended with their plot hooks, so I'd guess you'd usually have to roll your own plot, but I can definitely see it working.

[Kieran]

Ah, Magic the Gathering Hogwarts. Some very elegant character-college mappings, though Takara and Shirou feel a bit tricky to place (Witherbloom and Prismari? Both feel a bit off).

Yeah, the distinct lack of a "jock house" in Strixhaven is definitely felt, I have to admit . . . And to be honest, placing Galen is no easy task, either; Lorehold is the immediately obvious choice, but there are arguments to be made for Silverquill, as well.

I suppose now that it has a 5e campaign setting book, it's a bit easier to consider.

Absolutely. the "Bladesinger" option for Shirou or Takara is definitely tempting - and the possibility of Hermione being translated as either a full vampire (which can be cured by a miracle or wish spell, or being reincarnated/resurrected after being killed) or a dhampir (as she is an "experiment," which is one of the potential origins of the type) is tempting . . .

There's something cute about it being a Magic University, as a follow-up to a Magic High School.

Quite so.

Most Magic settings are rather open-ended with their plot hooks, so I'd guess you'd usually have to roll your own plot, but I can definitely see it working.

*Chuckles* Oh, I can think of a few . . .

[Xamusel]

Merry Christmas Eve, guys. I hope we eventually get the Kamen Rider chapters.

[Kieran]

Merry Christmas Eve, guys. I hope we eventually get the Kamen Rider chapters.

I'll add it to my New Year's Resolution list . . .

Trinity: The Night Before

Ministry of Magic
London, England
Friday, December 23, 2005









It would be many, many years before Seiko Aozaki understood why her parents insisted on sending her to England for Christmas Eve. The Japanese tradition for the holiday painted it as being for lovers, after all, rather than family. As such, they’d intended to make it a “date night”; being that her father was British, however, he had a love of the family traditions, and didn’t want to leave his daughter out of them . . .

Fortunately, a compromise was available.

The five-year-old looked around at the big building with all the tall, pale people, and made a connection as the sight seemed familiar. She tugged at her aunt’s sleeve and asked, “. . . Are we going to the Spook House again, Touko-oba?”

Touko-oba smiled. “No, Seiko-chan—the Spook House only appears on Halloween, and it’s almost Christmas now.”

Seiko pouted. That meant no candy! Also, no scary stuff—but she’d liked the candy!

“We’re going to see Takara-chan and her family for Christmas dinner, instead,” Touko explained.

She knew what that meant—the TV had said so for days and days!

“Are we having KFC?” she said hopefully. There was a yummy strawberry cake at KFC!

“. . . Maybe,” her aunt allowed. “I’ve never had a British Christmas dinner, either—I don’t know what’s involved.”

“KFC!” Seiko insisted. “It has strawberry cake!”

“We’ll ask Takara-chan when she gets here,” Touko said calmly.

Seiko blinked. “Nee-chan’s coming?”

“Seiko, she’s not actually your sister,” the older witch sighed.

The girl shook her head, causing the red highlights in her dark hair to flash. “Nuh-uh—Okaa-san says I look just like Nee-chan when she was little, and Otou-san says that means we’re sisters!”

Touko covered her face with her free hand so she could mutter “That’s because your father is a menace . . .”

In a more normal tone of voice, she continued, “Yes, Takara should be coming to meet us, or Galen, or—”

“Just me, I’m afraid,” came a new, very pretty voice. It sounded like Otou-san, sort of, but was obviously a lady’s voice. Seiko didn’t recognise it, though, so she hid a bit behind Touko, peeking around her coat to get a better look.

Like most people Seiko knew, she was tall, with lots of fluffy brown hair and pale skin, like a lot of the people around. She was dressed in a long black dress like them, too—her eyes were brown like most people’s back home, though, and she bowed when she saw them.

“It’s been a while, Aozaki-san, Seiko-chan,” the woman said as she straightened up. “Takara pulled the late shift, I’m sorry to say—and while Christmas is a lovely time to visit family, family arguments can create a good deal of work for the hospital.”

“I completely understand—Granger-san, correct?”

“‘Hermione’ is fine, Aozaki-san,” she said with a smile, and Seiko concentrated on the odd name, before a very important part of it registered—this was another big sister?

“Her-mai-oh-neechan . . .?” she tried.

The pale lady smiled, kneeling down to be almost eye-to-eye with her.

“That’s a very good try, Seiko-chan,” she said encouragingly. “I know my name is hard to say, so if you want to say something shorter, to make it easier, that’s all right, too, OK?”

“Mio-neechan?” she tried again.

“That’s fine by me if it’s all right by you, Seiko-chan,” she said warmly.

Seiko nodded. “Uh-huh.”

“OK, then.” Standing up, Mio-neechan turned back to Touko-oba. “We can Floo home from here, and Takara made certain to have Dreamless Sleep potions available for you, to help adjust to the time change. All three of you,” she added, glancing at the cat carrier slung over the older witch’s shoulder.

“It might be difficult to get Mikiya to take it,” Touko-oba said, “but I appreciate the thoughtfulness.”

Mio-neechan nodded. “And when you wake up tomorrow, Seiko-chan, we can write a letter to Father Christmas, so he knows what to bring you when you go to bed after dinner.”

Seiko blinked. “Who?”

“’Father Christmas’ is what we call Santa Claus in Britain, Seiko-chan,” she explained.

That name, Seiko knew. “Santa?!”

Mio-neechan nodded again. “Yes—Takara knitted a stocking for you, just so he’d have somewhere to put your presents.”

“Nee-chan did?”

“Of course,” the pale lady said seriously. “That’s why your parents wanted you to come here, after all—so that you could be sure of getting the best parts of Christmas from both of the places your Mum and Dad call home.”

“. . . Does that mean we’ll get KFC?” she said hopefully. “And strawberry cake?”

Mio-neechan laughed, and it sounded as pretty as the rest of her words (even the ones Seiko didn’t understand). “Oh, I think that can be arranged, Seiko-chan—Galen would certainly prefer that over turkey, goose or ham . . .”








“If I understand the English expression correctly, there’s a fair bit of ham in you, Hermione-san,” Touko said drily, once the girl had been put to bed—after roughly an hour of staring at the brightly-coloured lights of the Christmas tree and petting two new-to-her cats.

The younger (and young-looking, she noted) witch smiled and shrugged. “I love him dearly, but Galen is, in many ways, a terrible influence—his sentimentality around holidays, especially as regards children, being one of them.”

“That ridiculous haunted house routine being a prime example,” the Japanese witch snorted. “I am astonished that no one has called you out for a potential Statute breach with that.”

The Englishwoman recited, as if from a script, “The Spook House is an urban legend whose existence cannot be proven, as it appears for only a few hours every Halloween night, and contains nothing which can be verified as magic, as opposed to mundane special effects. Even the candy is nothing traceable—simply high-end.” She smiled with more than a little smugness. “The Department of Magical Law Enforcement has far more to concern itself with than a bit of entertainment for the local children—and the Department of Mysteries has found its activities useful in regard to an ongoing study.”

“Would this be related to a certain Christmas-related study, as well . . .?” Touko asked rhetorically. At the younger witch’s look, she said drily, “Sirius was rather vocally enthusiastic about his participation last year—if Aoko hadn’t wanted a ‘traditional’ Christmas, I’ve no doubt he’d have volunteered again.”

Hermione sighed. “I see that I’ll have to break out the strongly-worded contracts again . . .”

Touko said nothing, only studied her in silence. “And speaking of traditional Christmases, are we expecting anyone else for dinner tomorrow . . .?”

The British witch shrugged nonchalantly. “The Creeveys—and Luna’s father, of course—are in Switzerland this year, the Einzberns are in Germany this year, and the Longbottoms have their own family traditions. As for immediate family, the Lupins will be at Hogwarts, and with my sister in Uni, my parents decided to take a Riviera cruise, the Salvatores are in Florida for similar reasons . . . And to answer the question you were really asking,” she finished, “our traditional invitation to Takara’s immediate family was declined—or more accurately, ignored.

“As is also tradition,” she finished sadly, not quite under her breath.

“I see,” Touko said noncommittally.

She had no certainty in understanding the reasons for the rift between mother and daughter—the common belief was that it was related to her relationship with the witch in front of her. Touko suspected that it was, but for different reasons than assumed . . . But she couldn’t prove it (which was intriguing in several ways), not least because the behaviour of the people involved did not match expectations in far too many ways—and none of them ways which implied danger.

No matter how talented some of them could be at infiltration and mind control, it was very hard to square the girl in front of her, warmly encouraging her niece that of course fast-food fried chicken would be a suitable holiday meal, with the typical bloodsucker. And that wasn’t even mentioning the other feats she’d witnessed the girl perform over the years that a vampire simply could not do, which rendered any kind of comprehensible timeline for her turning impossible, if nothing else.

Part of Touko itched to know how, to know why—or, if she was wrong, to know what actually was going on—but the part of her that had spent nearly a decade rebuilding her family ties was wary of digging. Because she was very certain that much of that family would act to protect Hermione Granger from harm, and damn the cost or consequences . . . She had seen that reaction before, and lived through it, and its outcome.

It was not an experience she wished to revisit.

And so, barring an open invitation—or an obvious threat—she allowed the issue to remain one between the members of the British branch of the family. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t curious . . . Curious enough to accept a dinner invitation for the holidays, at least.

“Perhaps they’ll change their minds, someday,” Touko offered neutrally.

“For Takara’s sake, I hope so,” the British witch said, sounding entirely sincere.

Sincere enough that Touko couldn’t help but believe her—another odd, contradictory piece to a very confusing puzzle . . .








12 Grimmauld Place
London, England
Saturday, December 24, 2005









Seiko had had a great day. She had woken up to a late breakfast of rice porridge, with “brown sugar” mixed in. It was strange—and delicious. After that, she’d met Takara-neechan and Galen-niichan, who had helped write a letter to Father Christmas and mail it, build a snowman, and bake cookies to take home. After that, they’d had to go and finish making dinner, but there had been Mikiya to play with—and his imoto, Mirai (who was very soft and snuggly), and his otou-san, “Crooks,” who was bigger and fluffier than Mikiya, but the same bright orange.

Dinner had been KFC, with a strawberry and cream cake, just like she’d wanted—the grownups had other stuff, including a “Yule Log,” was like a rolled-up chocolate cake filled with cream and “raspberries,” which were darker than strawberries and not as sweet, but very yummy (Takara-neechan had let her try a bite). There had been a Christmas movie, and then a story before bedtime; then it was just a matter of going to sleep before Father Christmas arrived and left her presents to open when her parents came in the morning.

Except, she couldn’t sleep. She was too curious about Father Christmas. He wasn’t known for visiting Japan, and she wondered why. She wondered what it was like when he did visit—did he use a wand like her family did to do his magic, or was it something else?

So, being as quiet as she could, she crept downstairs.

Carefully, she looked at the room with the fireplace from across the hall, hiding as best she could—and it didn’t take long before it flared, revealing a white-bearded man who looked like Santa, but not quite. He wasn’t as fat, and dressed in something more like she’d seen at the travel place they’d come to before coming to the house, but it was in Santa’s colours . . .

He moved over to the table with the snacks on it for him—something called a “mince pie,” with a glass of “sherry.” Neither of them had smelled very good to Seiko, so she’d put a couple of the cookies she’d baked on the plate with the pie; Santa was supposed to like cookies, she thought.

“Cookies?” murmured the old man. “What a nice surprise—something different, for a change.” Biting into one with an “Mmm . . .”, Father Christmas levitated packages out of the sack that he'd carried on his back with a wave of his other hand, sending them into the “stocking” that had been hung for her.

“There,” he said happily. “I do hope she continues putting up her stocking—it’s always nice to have a new friend, and good little girls deserve presents at Christmas time.

“It’s also very naughty to not be in bed, asleep, when I visit,” he said sternly, turning to look at Seiko, who eeped at being caught.

“This once, though,” he said, “I won’t turn all those presents into coal, because it is your first Christmas. Next year, though, the rules are the rules, all right?”

Seiko nodded so hard she got dizzy.

“Back to bed, then,” he said, making a shooing motion with his free hand as he picked up the sack. “And Merry Christmas.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him dissolve into gold sparkles—like no type of magic she’d ever seen before—even as she raced back upstairs.

Lucky for her, Galen-niichan was very understanding when she barged into the wrong room . . .








“. . . I had honestly expected Galen to be doing that,” Touko murmured, with a touch of surprise in her voice.

“He normally would,” Hermione admitted, her eyes focussed on the mirror. A wave of her wand Vanished the beard, a second shifted her eyes from holly green to their normal dark amber. And carefully, she began undoing the wrinkles. “Self-Transfiguration, unfortunately, isn’t his best skill. And it won’t hurt to have him obviously in the house, asleep, when Father Christmas visited—less likely she’ll be suspicious.”

“Still, why do this?” Touko pressed. “My impression of you, over the years, is that you’re something of a stickler for rules . . .”

“Oh, I am,” Hermione admitted. “But I find all this rather exciting, honestly—maintaining a sense of wonder for people can be surprisingly fun.”

Touko added yet another piece to the puzzle that was Hermione Granger and reaffirmed her initial conclusion: she really couldn’t be sure of the situation and was better off staying well out of it—and if Aoko ever started poking at things, she’d tell her the same.

As confusing as it was, though, so far this Christmas had been “surprisingly fun,” as the girl had put it.

It might be worth the headache to do this again next year . . .













Writer's Notes: Just barely (albeit only technically) on time, but I made it!

[hatori]

Holy Smokes

[Kieran]

Yeah - this was not as light and fluffy as my other holiday snippets (though I hope it suffices, just the same), and not what I originally intended to write, either. It seems that that idea would work better as part of a longer fic . . .


As to the story itself - while Hermione, Galen and Takara have manipulated certain spells to prevent anyone who does know the truth from using it, neither Touko nor Aoko are stupid; there are very few reasons Ciel would act as she has, and the Aozakis' specialties give them particular insights into one of the most prominent ones . . .

But.

But, it's a ridiculously paper-thin disguise, if it is a disguise. But, Hermione isn't acting or reacting like a vampire; she's FAR too human, on multiple levels, for one, and using witchcraft - which vampires flat-out cannot do - with her original wand! Surely, if such a momentous transformation had taken place, its responsiveness to her would've changed, at the very least . . .?

It's confusing as hell, because they can't definitively say, one way or the other, whether or not Hermione is a vampire, a witch, or Abe no Seimei only knows what . . . But unlike most of the Wizarding World, the sisters can at least note that certain things aren't adding up.

[Xamusel]

Thanks for the snippet.

[Kieran]

You are, of course, very welcome.

[Arbitrarity]

Yeah - this was not as light and fluffy as my other holiday snippets (though I hope it suffices, just the same), and not what I originally intended to write, either. It seems that that idea would work better as part of a longer fic . . .

Sort of a dark-chocolate flavor. It's a good wrinkle to consider; as often as I hear about drama in fiction that would just be solved by a conversation, this one is a bit trickier. As Hermione says with the "strongly worded contracts", magic gives you some avenues for establishing limited trust, but that doesn't solve the problem either.

I can hear "Her-mai-onee-chan?" in my head perfectly, and it is adorable. How KFC managed to convince Japan that it's a holiday food remains beyond my understanding.

I do have to wonder about Sirius saying Takara is onee-chan; is this continuing the Aoko trend, or transitively implying Aoko is older? Seems like he's playing with fire.

[Kieran]

Sort of a dark-chocolate flavor.

That'll do.

It's a good wrinkle to consider; as often as I hear about drama in fiction that would just be solved by a conversation, this one is a bit trickier. As Hermione says with the "strongly worded contracts", magic gives you some avenues for establishing limited trust, but that doesn't solve the problem either.

Yeah - they can't just wave a wand and fix the problem, magic notwithstanding. And I thought it was worth exploring this, because neither Aoko nor Touko are stupid; they would absolutely have questions, and suspicions, particularly as Shiki, Alex, and even Arcueid's reactions aren't the same. And they're unaccustomed to not getting answers - so how would they handle this . . .?

. . . So, this - Hermione's vampirism is suspected as a reason for the estrangement, but for every point in favour of it, there are at least two against it, but not much else that fits the criteria of the problem; and a lot of those points can be explained by porphyria, or personal preference. But if that is the reason, then she's somehow a vampire that breaks nearly every rule known about the species . . . Or, something else is going on - and what that might be, Touko can't imagine. So maybe it just is the fact that Takara is as much married to Hermione as she is to Galen . . .?

Granted, that's a bit odd, given Ciel's relationship with Arcueid, but it's natural for a mother to want better for her daughter - and that sentiment would explain Shiki and Arcueid's stances . . .

It's contradictory and confusing, which keeps things in an uneasy detente - but I thought it was worth exploring and demonstrating, even if I hadn't planned on doing it here, initially.

I can hear "Her-mai-onee-chan?" in my head perfectly, and it is adorable.

Isn't it, though?

I have a sneaking suspicion that any of the Japanese-raised and/or primarily Japanese-speaking children call her "'Mio-neechan." (which probably is Seiko and Satsuki, primarily, but it's possible some of the Einzbern girls do, as well).

How KFC managed to convince Japan that it's a holiday food remains beyond my understanding.

A really good marketing campaign in the '70s, as I understand it; it managed to originate the saying about Christmas cakes, after all.

I do have to wonder about Sirius saying Takara is onee-chan; is this continuing the Aoko trend, or transitively implying Aoko is older? Seems like he's playing with fire.

No, he mostly just made an off-the-cuff joke in response to Aoko's comment that Seiko, as children do, took as a statement of fact - and henceforth has encouraged at every opportunity. As he said in the Kamen Rider snippet, he doesn't plan pranks anymore, but if handed one on a silver platter . . .

Aoko just thinks it's amusing, for the most part, and Touko is beginning to understand why Galen kept muttering about "a sign of the End Times" when the two got together.

[Kieran]

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.











Unknown location
Unknown time








Shirou came awake with a start, partly because he hadn’t expected to.

There had been no warning, not really; but he’d had an instinct, before it happened. Too late to do any good, but—

I should be dead . . . Why aren’t I dead?

“Because” announced Ilya from behind him, “you are very lucky that your wife—who is very good—is connected to the ultimate out-of-context problem.”

“. . . Ilya-chan,” he said in a tone that mixed almost equal parts affection and exasperation, “I have a headache that would have Galen demanding to be ‘drunk first, damn it,’ so if you could just speak plainly . . .?”

Ilya’s face turned serious. “As a Servant, Galen’s powers depended on convincing existence that his pretensions were reality—and that’s basically his nature. It’s how I wove us into the Rowlingverse in the first place; when that whatever-it-was happened, it undid that weaving as much as it tried to kill us—but he still wanted to save his friends . . .”

Shirou went cold, and turned to look at her—and realised, suddenly, that her eyes were red once again, her hair pure white.

“Ilya, what did you do—?”

“Preserve the essence, even if the form has to change,” she said distantly. “First and foremost, in the here and now, you were students, Shirou. students at a magical academy—all I had to do was find a different one. And this world, and its underlying paradign, were more accepting than most; it knows how to handle the concept of a multiverse . . .”

“Ilya!” he snapped. “Answer me, damn it!”

“What are you, Shirou?” she countered. “Tell me.”

“A bla—” He stopped. “A bladesinger . . .?”

The definition popped into his head alongside the term: wizard who combined weaponry and magic, using an ancient, ritualistic art of elven song and dance. The memories flowed in, and he struggled to absorb yet another lifetime, without the benefit of Occlumency . . .

But he was Emiya Shirou, former Counter Guardian EMIYA—not an existence unused to such things. It would take time, but he could do it. For now, he focussed on the fundamentals: the nature of bladesong, and that it had been taught to him by his adoptive parents, even though the art was, traditionally, never taught to hum—

“Ilya,” he said again, carefully, “what did you do?”

“The only thing I could that would protect us all,” she said, somewhat sadly. Reaching up, she brushed her hair back, over her ear.

Her pointed ear.

“Even if it means I’ll have to give you up, sooner than I want to—again.”








Takara’s head was spinning, and every part of her ached. When she mustered up the brainpower, she privately apologised to Galen for every transformation the full moon had inflicted on him, because she was pretty sure this was what it had felt like.

Still, something nagged at her about its being familiar to her, somehow; but that didn’t make sense. She’d taken hits and spells in sparring before, and worked and hurt herself in training, but never like this. She generally avoided pain, literally—mostly by virtue of being too fast and agile to receive it. When would she ever have felt this . . .?

Maybe I’ll remember once my head stops shrieking like the Hogwarts Exp—

Takara sat bolt upright in sudden realisation, and immediately regretted it as a wave of disorientation swept over her. Still, as nauseating as the sensation was, it only confirmed her thoughts: the last time she’d felt like this was when she, Shirou and Galen had been shunted into the world of Harry Potter.

And if it’s happened again, then where are we?

. . . And what sort of reality-shaking changes should we expect this time . . .?

“Galen . . .?” she called—croaked, really, and the sound that emerged from her throat made her flinch in pain.

But the silence that answered her was worse.

With a great effort, Takara lifted her head, and saw that she was on a cot in a room that looked not unlike Hogwarts’ Hospital Wing. Hermione lay unconscious on a nearby cot, which was concerning; either she’d been hurt to a degree her vampiric physiology couldn’t heal, somehow, or she’d dropped into her daylight rest—and without her native soil, Takara had no idea what that might do to her.

Galen would know—but there was no sign of him anywhere in the room.

Where are you . . .?

As if in answer, a door opened, bringing with it voices.

“—can’t tell what, precisely, she is,” said a woman. “Some form of dhampir, it seems, but her arcanobiology is entirely unlike anything I’ve seen before; I don’t dare treat her without some idea of how she might react to it. I’m hoping her companion will know—she, at least, seems to be fairly bog-standard for her race—but I wanted you on hand before I attempt—oh. You’re awake.”

Takara blinked. She’d seen a lot of bizarre things since awakening to the supernatural; bizarre things bordering on the absurd, when she’d been shunted to the Wizarding World—but a talking tree-woman was admittedly a new one.

“Well,” the tree-woman said cheerfully, “this is a stroke of luck—do you speak Common, dear?”

“Common what, exactly?” Takara asked warily.

“That’s a ‘yes’—good,” the other replied briskly. “Now, you and your friend here came through a snarl half an hour or so ago—possibly more than just you, given the number of bolts—and we’ve been trying to work out what happened, and how to stop it from happening again. I’d hope you feel the same, given how badly hurt you seem to be as a result. . .

“The problem,” she continued, “is that your friend’s arcanobiology, while obviously vampiric, isn’t a type I’ve seen before, and I’m reluctant to try and administer treatment for fear of doing her further harm. Can you tell me anything about what happened to you—or even just about her?”

“Living blood and time tends to be all she needs to fix her up,” Takara admitted reluctantly. “She is a vampire, after all.”

She hated having to reveal it, given the prejudices against vampires—but it was clear that it was a known fact, and hiding it would likely only serve to make these people (?) suspicious.

“Half-vampire,” the tree-woman corrected—

Wait, WHAT?!

“—but not born that way; I can tell that much.”

Takara was still stuck on what she’d said before. “What do you mean, she’s a half-vampire?”

Now it was the tree-woman’s turn to blink. “Precisely what I said, dear—so far as I can tell, she’s what’s commonly called a ‘dhampir’: a hybrid born of a vampire and another living humanoid. Usually literally born but judging by what I can determine of her implies that she was exposed to a vampiric element in a manner I don’t understand—and I don’t want to accidentally trigger a negative reaction from something that would otherwise be harmless.”

Takara found herself shaking, and not from the strain of her apparently forced reality jump. “. . . She’s—Hermione’s not undead?”

“She’s alive as you or me, dear,” the other said gently. “‘Hermione,’ did you say her name was? She’ll likely crave whatever her vampiric parent species does—which in my experience could be blood, spinal fluid, life force, dreams—”

“Blood,” Takara said quietly. “Preferably human blood, freely given . . . She doesn’t attack people for it, not unless they try to hurt her first.”

“All right,” the tree-woman said gently. “That’s good . . . In any case, most dhampirs crave it, and can use it, but dealing with the hunger is a balancing act—it can be addictive.

“However,” she added, “that’s true of the dhampirs I know of. Her nature might have facets to it I don’t—which is why I really need to know everything you can tell me about her, Miss . . .?”

“Takara Aozaki,” she offered, using the Western name order because they seemed to speak English, here. “But while I have some general knowledge, you’d really be best off asking . . . Hermione’s primary physician,” she settled on. “A human male, a head or so taller than me, pale skin, blue eyes, and brown hair with streaks of gray . . .?”

Once again, the silence was telling . . .










Writer's Notes: Because I thought you deserved something - Happy New Year!