The Saga of James Stormcaller [Harry Potter AU]

[Hammer_steel]

The British have banned so many books it's a wonder they've got any actual lore left.

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I feel the exact same way. I wonder just how stunted their worldview is (at least an ordinary citizen's worldview, as I imagine the rich and powerful can acquire much more "forbidden" knowledge).

 

[Hammer_steel]

Would James being a shaman help him drive off or hurt dementors more than a normal wizard?

 

[Baked the Author]

Would James being a shaman help him drive off or hurt dementors more than a normal wizard?

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Can't answer this right now. Half because it'd be spoilers, half because those don't become relevant till much later.

 

[Hammer_steel]

Can't answer this right now. Half because it'd be spoilers, half because those don't become relevant till much later.

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Ok, no problem. Looking forward to the Hogwarts express reunion!

 

[Monmonstar]

this is grate when i kept seeing this fic i thought it was the one where human harry is raised by evil demon worshiping genocidal orcs

 

[Hammer_steel]

Hi Baked, I was wondering how the next chapter of James Stormcaller is coming along if you don't mind me asking?

 

[Have a Little Feith]

Hi Baked, I was wondering how the next chapter of James Stormcaller is coming along if you don't mind me asking?

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Begone, Foul Necromancer! Seriously, people! Look at the date of the last post before posting, and ask shit like this on the author's profile page!

 

[Baked the Author]

Yes! The PM system exists for a reason!

And to answer the question, it's still being worked on (like everything else) but no definite date of release yet.

 

[Baked the Author]

[.\|/.]
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Int. Dept. of Unique Magical Artifacts
Archive Copy​

Date of Invention's First Inspection and Demonstration: July 21, 1750 CE
Name: Hogwarts Express
Nation: Magical Ministry of Great Britain
Type: Unique Working Magical Artifact

Description: The Hogwarts Express is what shall become known as a "steam locomotive". Placed on rails, it uses a coal-burning water boiler to make steam, which turns a turbine, which powers a pair of pistons, which are used to make a set of wheels attached to the engine platform move, along a pair of parallel metal rails, which are secured with large planks spaced at regular intervals on a road of prepared crushed rock.

In addition to the engine itself, which will be fitted with a cabin to shelter the engineers from the elements, this invention will pull the following along behind it in a train, joined by wrought-metal fittings secured with locking pins:

One (1) transfiguration carriage, where up to four (4) Magicals will be creating coal from quarried stone while the Express is in operation, with the assistance of Desks of Permanence
One (1) lounge carriage for Hogwarts staff and prefects
One (1) dining carriage, fitted with booth-style table seating and a simple café; will be placed in the middle of the train (between passenger carriage 10 and 11) for student convenience
Twenty (20) magically-expanded passenger carriage, each with twenty-five (25) compartments capable of holding between four (4) and six (six) persons comfortably, with easy-to-reach overhead storage for luggage; water closets will be placed at each extreme end of each carriage, and will be unisex.

A caboose is planned, as a ride-along office for a security detachment of Aurors; respective nation's Ministry is currently reviewing and discussing the addition's necessity.

Notes and artifact history: materials used in construction are very expensive, as only magically-conductive material may be used for the entire project's material makeup, from the fittings of the engine to the rails it runs on.

Suggest further research and development be done among the Mundane population; their progress in the fields of Science and Mathematics, especially following the Statute's implementation, implies an invention boom may be imminent. Introduction of the steam locomotive may accelerate said boom and add ideas to this project.

Additionally, Goblin consultation on architecture may be necessary, particularly in regards to the planned rail path between the Express' station house and Hogsmede; to clarify, this should be the limit of their involvement, as the project is only half-finished and has already taken a sizeable chunk out of the local Ministry's allotted budget for public works projects.

The original inventor is, sadly, unknown, as they erased the very memory of their person from existence when trying to build a perpetual magical battery. The train would have had one installed; however, the steam engine was found to be much safer, and it was reproduced from the inventor's notes and a small working model they built – I know what you're going to ask, sir, and the answer is yes: even the person's name has been literally rubbed off papers. Indeed, the only reason this invention exists is because of an alarm at the local Ministry's archives, when an enchanted document of property ownership was found to have changed abruptly, triggering said alarm; local Aurors found the workshop, and surviving documents, and the project was okayed after a brief debate in the local government (Wizengamot).

As it stands, the project is horribly expensive, but is also highly sophisticated, artistic, ambitious, within the parameters of the Statute, and, above all else, safe to operate and travel within.

Approved, pending confirmation by Head Office. Photos enclosed.

Signed x F. Ogden, Senior Field Inspector, Great Britain

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[..|..]

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"It cost how much?"

-last words of ICW Chief Treasurer Ibd al-Qaid, age 110, on being told the total, final cost of building the Hogwarts Express and the rail it runs on, during a session meeting of ICW Chiefs, September 9, 1750 CE. Seconds after uttering this statement, al-Qaid died of a sudden and immediately fatal stroke, while two of his aides fainted and the French Mugwump attempted to strangle his British counterpart, apparently over a long-standing and unpaid loan debt owed by the latter

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[..|..]

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…retired to our meeting room, I asked Helga, who was the only one of us present, about our school's new "caretaker". She had, as I'd suspected, been aware of her for some time, as Helga confirmed the being's preferred sex, and elucidated further on the matter:

It would seem that this is the being that has been offering food and drink to students, old and new, as they are ferried to Hogwars via the Thestral-drawn carriages.

When I expressed my aforementioned concerns – on reflection, merely parroting Godric's worry for the students – Helga confirmed that this being was not, in fact, a member of the Fae Folk, but a Greater Spirit of Generosity.

Verily, this confirmation has more than eased my worries, and will surely keep Godric from doing something stupid. For it would seem that this "caretaker" was drawn to Hogwarts sometime after Godric and I, much to Ro…

-page fragment, burned at the edges and partially torn
text is written with iron gall ink, quill
handwriting matches that of Salazar Slytherin
date of writing unknown; possibly between 999 and 1022 CE, the latter date being the date of Founder Slytherin's last departure from Hogwarts Castle
in the permanent care of the British Magical Ministry Archive; is occasionally put on display with other collected writings of the Four Founders

.​

Dear Aunt Phessy,

Several of the more ancient members of the Wizengamot and British gentry have also kept asking me what became of the Caretaker, that matronly woman who once cleaned the halls of Hogwarts, or assisted lost students in finding their way back to their common rooms. After poking around the family library for a bit, and asking some of the dustier cretins among my country's gentry for clarification, I have most of the story figured out, though there is no desire in my heart to share my findings with those I sought for aid.

Indeed, most of the Dustbin Brigade would undoubtedly try something head-achingly stupid with the information, much like their predecessors did on other matters now aggrieving me. Regardless, I am more than happy to share what I've found with you, my teacher, as I'm sure you'll find the story informative and amusing.

That, and so long as you know, at least some of the Pact can be kept, should some idiocy happen anyway. But I've dithered enough; here's what I've found:

The Caretaker, appearing as an elderly if kind and gentle matron, is a Spirit of Generosity that has assisted Hogwarts virtually since its founding. First appearing to Rowena Ravenclaw and Salazar Slytherin outside what is today the Runes Corridor, and again to Godric Gryffindor and Helga Hufflepuff in a separate event (unrecorded outside fifth-hand accounts), the Caretaker claimed to have chosen Hogwarts, the castle grounds, and all attached assets as her "charge", and went to great lengths to ensure the school's cleanliness, upkeep, and safety. For centuries, she was content to mop and sweep and assist the Brownies in the castle's upkeep.

Regardless, and somewhat annoyingly, during my ancestor Vega Black's disturbing tenure as Headmaster, he appears to have upset the Caretaker in some way; the details are vague, Great-Uncle Vega's diary only containing mad ramblings about "exorcising the demon poisoning our children's minds". Other, more… colourful affectations are scattered throughout the record; for decency's sake, I shall not repeat them.

I extrapolate that his untimely and unlamented demise by choking to death on chicken soup was a form of, shall I say, Spiritual retribution.

Black humor aside – ha! – the Caretaker now resides solely on the Hogwarts Express, pushing a trolley containing sweetmeats and other refreshments up and down the aisles that run the length of the train, and has resided there since the opening of the railway; prior to this, she waited tables at the Three Broomsticks tavern in Hogsmede. Not once has she attempted to reenter the castle proper, nor its grounds, since making the move to the Express, but there is a rumor that she sells flowers in Hogsmede on St. Valentine's Day. Something to consider, when next you visit.

Warmest regards, and Merry Yuletide,

Phineas Nigellius Black
Headmaster of Hogwarts, Head of House Black, Your Student, etc.

-a letter from Phineas Black to High Dragon Persephone
once displayed and partially read during the ICW Summit of 1927

it should be noted that Headmaster P. Black was a Glimmervale alumnus, and studied Geomancy under Persphone's personal direction, neatly explaining how he made more additions and corrections to Hogwarts' ward stones than any other Headmaster since the Founders.

it should also be noted that, at the time, and continuing to the present, the Last High Dragon is, by British law, not allowed to enter the British Isles outside of international emergency circumstances; this letter therefore implies that P. Black and the High Dragon were violating the law. At the asking, Persephone has simply giggled and provided no other comment on the matter. There has been no prosecution on the matter, as any evidence one way or the other has proven impossible to deduce.

date of the letter's writing unknown
original letter is currently in possession of Persephone, the Fangs of Winter

[..|..]

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Chapter 4:
To Hogwarts!

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The rattle wouldn't shrink anymore.

That was what annoyed Ja- no. He needed to be Harry, at least for a while; he didn't much like it, but the world was expecting Harry Potter, the only survivor of Voldemort's last attack, and not James Stormcaller, the Shaman who befriended Faeries, talked gardening with an Occamy, and had a fledgling Griffon named after him – a fact Vera never ceased to tease him about, whenever they saw Matthew and Nadira taking little Jamie out for a walk.

Needless to say, but James preferred being James; it'd been a long time since he had to be Harry… or, well, not that long.

But the rattle wasn't shrinking, even when he told it to do so.

Vera finished putting their homemade paints – made with Wyne's help – in the proper box, closed it, and came over to sniff the bundle of objects tied to a deer rib; she tilted her head and frowned, "I don't smell anything wrong with it."

"And it doesn't feel like anything's different," Harry agreed, running a finger over the bone; a babbling brook, the hiss of wind through grass, a crackling fire in winter, and the smell of mud after a spring storm- all these sensations brushed over Harry's senses, ensuring that the Shaman rattle was working as intended.

"Small!" he commanded with his voice and magic, saying it aloud for the first time since managing to get doing it silently down, back while living with the Dursley family.

The rattle, annoyingly, did not change size even a little.

Vera wagged her tails and tilted her head the other way while frowning at the Nature focus, "Maybe it just doesn't want to change right now?"

Picking it up, Harry turned it this way and that before shrugging and tucking it into one of his sea serpent hide vest's inside pockets, which were bigger on the inside. Because, well, Harry knew the spell to make pockets bigger on the inside, and why not make pockets bigger? It just meant more room for carrying more stuff, whether that be lost Thestral teeth, flowers found on a walk, or the dagger Sir Vileclaw gave to him.

"Maybe not, but I was really hoping it would. My staff shrank, no problem," Harry jostled his tunic's sleeve, feeling the shrunken length of wood bop into the side of his wrist.

"Yeah, but the staff's just another focus thingy that you Wizards use," Vera pointed out while picking up some more boxes with her tails and tucking them into Harry's bag. "The rattle's a lot more important than them."
Harry… didn't disagree, but he still felt everything he ever made or acquired during his journey was important, from pressed leaves and flowers in the pages of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, to…

Wyne poked her head into the treehouse, the Sky Stone gleaming from where it hung on her neck, making her seem as radiant as when Landlady used one of her glamours.

On seeing Harry fully dressed, she smiled and stepped fully into the room, "Hello, James," and held a wrapped, rectangular parcel over her chest, her cheeks reddening as she hesitated on what to say.

"Hi, Wyne," he guessed he could be James for a little bit longer, just for his friend. "What's that? A book?" it was shaped like a book- more a folio, a thin if large book with much bigger pages than was seen as standard.

Wyne nodded and, avoiding Vera's curious sniffing, held it out for James to take, "I, ah, made it for you… with help. Going away presents are, um, custom, yes?"

While that was true – James had a whole trove of foods and tradable items gifted from the Faeries, a few potted succulents from the gardeners, and a pack of Griffon-feather quills from the nearby herd, all of it given yesterday – he had to insist, "Wyne, you didn't have to make me anything; and I'm not going away forever," he reminded her while taking the wrapped folio and putting it on the desk to unwrap, "Just till the winter holidays; then I'll come back, and it'll be like I never left!"

"I know," she smiled at him and adjusted her seal skin, brown eyes gleaming with happiness, "but I've spent most of the past year making this for you, with everyone's help, but especially Landlady Melfina."

Now really curious – not helped by Vera's nose picking up a lot of magic in the book – James carefully pulled the leaf wrappings off the book-

"Whoa!"

"Oooh, nice."

"I'm glad you both like it."

-revealing a cover of green, but a green that shimmered and shifted, all patterned into leaves and grasses, flowing into color closer to the middle, with flowers and a dirt path and brown-gold tree trunks and the red of Vileclaw's door; framed in the middle of the cover was the grey stone of Walnut Manor, with vines creeping over its surface, and the Great Walnut towering over it all. In the trees were the faces of Faeries, seeming to shift in and out of the green at odd times; occasionally, a Griffon or Gregory the Occamy would appear briefly.

And on the path was a boy with a large conical hat, holding a long staff tipped with a shard of glowing green, and at his side was a snow-white fox with blue swirls running over her body; both were facing the distant Manor, and just below them was a single word, carved into the surface of the book:

RIVENDELL​

"It has many images inside," James looked over at Wyne, who was fidgeting with seeming-embarrassment, "both of life in the Manor and its, um, grounds, as well as portraits of the Court's members. I, ah, didn't wish to have my own portrait in there, but Uncle Shepherd insisted; i-it's on the last page. Oh! And, I h-hope you don't take offense, but I, a-a-and Librarian Lisanna, with, ah, a few others, we made a double-wide reproduction of… ah, the G-Gate to Elysium- oh!"

James hugged his friend tightly – but not too tightly – saying earnestly, "Thank you so much, Wyne. This… this is amazing!" He was worried no one would believe him, but with this…

"Pretty sure this is priceless, too," Vera mused while opening to a random page, which showed the kitchens, with Sir Cookie and the Elves, Rafiq and Asha, all cooking up a storm. "I've never even heard of Faeries letting their portrait be done by any race other than themselves."

"Well Wyne is a Selkie, which is a type of Fair Folk," pulling back a little, he smiled and looked right into his friend's wide eyes. "I… oh, Wyne, I won't stop searching Hogwarts until I find something to pay you back for this."

"Ja… Harry Potter," she laughed, shook her head, and hugged him tightly back, whispering, "There is nothing in the world that I would accept, other than us continuing to be friends."

Laying his head on her shoulder – and with Vera jumping between them to join in on the hug with her tails – Harry muttered back, "Always, Wyne."

They stayed like that for a few minutes, three friends embracing, before Harry and Vera gathered up the last of the things they absolutely could not leave home without. With one more kiss on Wyne's cheek in farewell, Harry ran up the tumbled wall of the Willow Room, Vera leaping into his bag as he went.

Turning halfway and putting on his big brown hat, Harry called out, "Goodbye for now, Mr. Willow! Take care of Wyne while I'm gone!"

'All are safe beneath my eaves, young Shaman!' called back the Willow with a rustle of farewell, 'May your steps be sure and lead to good fortune!'

Turning back to the outside, and the grounds of Rivendell, Harry put magic into his voice and called, "YAVANNA!"

With a gust of wind and the rustle of the whole forest, the Nine-Tailed Forest Fox swirled into form right in front of Harry, her pink eyes full of curiosity and eagerness.

Climbing onto her back – and with one more wave to teary-eyed Wyne – Harry and Vera opened their Sense up to the Earth beneath them.

The River Yew bloomed in their mind's eye, and with it, the leylines beneath Britain, thrumming with raw, natural magic, and the song of the Other Realms, homes to Spirits and Fae alike, whispered in its currents; but Harry directed his focus elsewhere, and Vera refined it, as they searched the Mundane Realm for particularly bright places of magic, ones where people were gathering.

In moments, they found what they were looking for: a spot on the isle of Britain that was pulsing with magic, eagerness, and nervousness, where many were beginning to gather. The leylines, both natural and artificial – the Floo Network, Lisa the Librarian said the weaker currents were – all those magical streams and rivers were flickering as Witches and Wizards gathered at Platform 9 ¾, beads sliding together into a single point where their children could catch the train to Hogwarts.

Destination found, Harry made sure his hat was secure, wrapped an Unseen cloak around them, and pointed with a wide smile, "There, Yavanna! Fast as the Winds, take us there!"

With a bellow that filled the lands around them with magic, Yavanna swirled around her summoner and did as he asked; though she made sure to leave part of one of her tails rooted in the earth behind her. After all, she was Rivendell's caretaker.

And with that, she darted away through the trees as a swirl of stone, wood, leaves and flower petals, heading north with all speed.

Moments later, with only Wyne watching, the tail Yavanna left behind became a small kitsune, just as Nature-wrought as Yavanna herself, which let out a high-pitched bark and scurried over to the hole in the Willow Room's wall, jumping up into the giggling Selkie's arms.

Looking in the direction Yavanna had disappeared, Wyne still felt a touch of worry in her heart for her friends, even with the new kitsune licking her face in comfort, "Come back safe, Vera… Harry."

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[..|..]

.​

The exact location of Platform 9 ¾, and its attached train garage, had long been a matter of debate amongst some of the more eccentric of British Magicals; was it in the Midlands? Somewhere in South Downs? Wales, heaven forbid?

Due to the Unplottable Charm placed on the structure, and the Ward of Forgetfulness surrounding it, such debates as to the Platform's location were, generally, seen as silly things by the saner citizens of the Magical World.

As for the Platform's wide marble floor, its shops bracketing massive Floo fireplaces, and stained-glass half-dome covering the waiting area, all of it worn smooth by years and countless feet, and patinaed by many rainstorms, none could dispute that the home of the Hogwarts Express was a marvel of modern Magic.

And then there was the Express itself: its crimson engine gleaming as though it were newly made, all its carriages looking like they'd gotten a fresh coat of paint, and the indisputable, but subtle, aura of power that seemed rubbed into every grain of wood, every nail and bolt, instilling a sense of awe on all who looked at her, the first and oldest steam-powered train engine in the world.

Having recently attended a Muggle train museum with her parents, Hermione Granger likely would've found all these sights fascinating, from the custom soda vendor to the small permanent exhibit detailing the Express' construction.

She would've been ecstatic, in fact, even with hundreds of Witches and Wizards thronging the Platform with their children, her soon-to-be peers and classmates at Hogwarts.

But she wasn't, because Hermione was suffering from the worst headache of her life.

'Stupid!' she chided herself while wheeling her trunk through the crowd, dressed in her nicest robe – an off-white with blue trim shoulder-less number, under which she wore a black shirt and pants with trainers – wincing and trying not to collapse on the ground in tears, or pay too much attention to Hedwig's worried barking.

The cause of her current pain, Hermione was sure, had to do with that book on Spirits she'd been studying.

In it, there was a section on communing with natural Magic, a practice known as "Listening". With it, Hermione would be able to become more in tune with the ways Magic moved, whether through the air, or beneath the soil; there was even a whole list of benefits that came with the practice, from being able to sense how plants were doing with a simple touch, or just being near them, to whistling up unformed Spirits that could power simple golems.

That last one felt like it'd be useful, both in gardening and cleaning her room.

Hermione had done the practice, of opening her mind to the world around her, just like the book said; touched her magic, that fuzzy feeling behind her ribs, guided it to the center of her forehead, and made it into the shape of a circle.

This was followed, immediately, by a stinging pain shooting straight into her head, from which her days-long migraine followed.

Unfortunately, Hedwig was too panicked at whatever had gone wrong to take a letter from her parents to Hogwarts, asking for the nurse to take a look; in fact, Hermione was finding it hard to understand her friend after botching her first attempt at Listening, which made her worried for their Bond!

She was almost to the train, and after, a cold compress and a lie-down, when said train blew the first whistle, indicating that it would be leaving in 30 minutes.

Hermione remembered that last even as she gasped and stumbled and grabbed someone's shoulder, her head splitting from the sound.

"Whoa, there!" said the boy who she'd grabbed, turning and putting a hand on her shoulder to steady her. "What's wrong with you, then?"

"Sorry, migraine, and that whistle m-made it worse," Hermione tried to look at him through her watery eyes. Hedwig flapping over and nuzzling her head in worry helped, if only a little.

He was quite plain, honestly; brown hair, brown eyes, though his blue robes were nice enough, she supposed. Another boy was with him, who Hermione recognized from the Muggleborn trip to Diagon Alley Professor McGonnagal took her on a few weeks prior.

"Oh," the other boy said, snapping his fingers; she wished he wouldn't. "Uh, Hermione Granger, that girl who Bonded with an owl, wasn't it?" She nodded carefully, remembering how her Bonding made front page of the Prophet when it happened, even if the article was small; she thought he gave a sympathetic wince, "Justin Finch-Fletchley. Forgive me but you look terrible."

Hermione didn't think she looked that bad; a nearby blonde boy, who Justin and the other boy had been talking with apparently, seemed to agree with her.

"Honestly, Finch-Fletchley," the blonde shook his head, nodding to introduce himself and the pair of burly boys on either side of him, "Draco Malfoy, and these are Vincent Crabbe-"

"Jus' Vinnie."

"-and Gregory Goyle. Hm," Draco checked a pocket-watch, looked around, and nodded, "Right, good a time as any. MacMillan, quit gawping and let's get Granger there on the train; Vinnie, help him out." And off the blond trotted, the Goyle boy keeping close behind.

"Ponce; not even Sorted and already acting like he owns the train," 'MacMillan' huffed under his breath, drawing a pair of chuckles from the other two boys as he put a hand on Hermione's back, "Ernie MacMillan, at your service. Can you walk?" at her nod – ow – the now-named Ernie nodded back, "Right, I've got her. Justin, grab my trunk?"

"I've got 'ers," Vinnie grunted, only pausing when Hedwig growled at him.

"It's fine, Hedwig," Hermione tried to soothe her owl, but poor Hedwig still seemed frightfully worried for her. She didn't understand; it was just a magical migraine…

And speaking of which, she asked Ernie, "Is there… an infirmary, or n-nurse's office on the train?"

He blinked and shrugged as they boarded the Express, the smells changing from the riot of a crowd and food vendors to wood finish, leather, and the faint hint of oil; rather than being pleasant, they seemed to burn Hermione's nose, "Should be a Healer on board, yeah. Oi, Draco! See any signposts?"

"Yeah, but it just says one-to-ten, eleven-to-twenty, Prefect's carriage, dining car, and caboose; hmph," Draco looked around and seemed to perk up, "Ah, this compartment's empty."

"Grand. C'mon then, Ms. Granger," Ernie said, gently helping Hermione over to the rather nice compartment, with its dark wood walls and brass lights and luggage rack-

Whumph.

-soft, comfy seats. Hermione flopped face-first onto one, not caring about the boys seeing; her head felt like it was on fire.

"She don't look too good, Draco," she heard Gregory Goyle say, what seemed to be genuine concern coloring his voice as he pulled her trunk in; around a moan of pain, she heard him put her trunk up on the rack. "Uh, I got your owl too."

Hedwig barked again, hopping off Gregory's arm to land near Hermione's head; the boys were discussing something about 'looking for someone with green robes', which Hermione only barely registered as she shivered and hissed and wondered what she'd done wrong.

"What's all this then, dearies?" an older woman's voice cut through the boys' discussion. "Please don't crowd the aisle, now."

"Ah, excuse me, ma'am, but do you work here?" Ernie asked rapidly.

Hermione cracked open an eye. Gregory Goyle was still standing next to her, "Who're they talking to?"

"Some old lady wearing a Hogwarts patch on her robes," he grunted back quietly, before asking, "Your head still hurt?"

"Yeah."

"That's bunk."

Well, that was certainly a way of putting her current predicament, but then Hermione noticed the old woman, wrinkled face and wizened white hair, tottering into the compartment.

"Hello dearie. These nice young lads say you've got a headache?" at Hermione's nod, the old woman came closer and squinted at her, "Well, let's take a lookie…"

The woman then went unnaturally still, in such a way that Hermione, even with watery eyes and head splitting with pain, couldn't help but notice. Hedwig ruffled her feathers, and Gregory stepped back with a gulp.

"Hmm," the woman mumbled after a moment, asking in a different tone of voice, "I take it you were playing around with your magic, then, and tried something you weren't quite ready for. Is that right, dearie?"

Hermione blinked at the old woman- or was she a woman? "How… how did you-?"

"Oh, you're hardly the first I've seen, channeling your magic that way; problem is, out there where the Muggles live, in concrete canyons and lighted straight-lined streets of black tar, magic has trouble moving like it normally should," the woman's blue eyes seemed to gleam like distant glaciers, "Most well-meaning magic, anyway. Other things, though, they relish those conditions."

A wrinkled hand came up and pressed two fingers gently against Hermione's forehead-

-her head SPLIT-

-and then the woman pulled her hand away, and all the pain left Hermione like it'd never been there, but what was in the woman's hand…

It looked like a centipede, but made of metal and concrete, dripping black mold and smelling just as rotten. It writhed and screeched and scrabbled toward Hermione, Gregory, the other boys at the door, legs clattering as it tried to grab onto them again.

Hermione scrabbled away from it with a shriek, a primal fear lancing through her- and then Hedwig was on her lap, barking and screeching and snapping her beak at the thing in the old woman's grasp. "That thing tried to get at me!"

As for Hedwig, she ruffled up her feathers and hissed, 'Foul INSECT! Get away from my human!'

As for Gregory, he plastered himself against the wall, the pudgy boy paling whiter than the moon; of the boys at the doorway, they yelped and ducked out of sight. Only Ernie MacMillan stood his ground, pulling his wand and hissing, eyes wide and fearful, "What in Merlin's name is-?!"

"A petty daemon of… what are you, then? Greed, or Envy, or perhaps you are Fear?" the old woman asked the twitching, screeching thing held in her fingers, face still kind, but her eyes were cold as the peaks of the Alps in winter. "Ah, it matters little what ye are, or from whence ye came; the Muggle world is rotten with your ilk, and you are not welcome here."

-snap-

With a muted sound of fingers snapping together, the hideous centipede – apparently a daemon, which shocked Hermione something fierce – crinkled and crumbled and vanished into thin air.

"Hm!" the old woman dusted her hands off, the room filling with warmth as swiftly as the daemon disappeared, "That's all settled; now. Are you alright, dearie?"

Hermione twitched, looking at the… woman? …after searching her mind for the words, she finally managed to say, "I… yes, I… I think so… But I don't understand, how did it get at me in the first place?"

The old woman patted Hermione on the knee, and began rummaging in her robes while talking, "My dear, you are not the first to try listening to the world, nor do I expect you'll be the last. But out there, in the world of cold machines and belligerent logic, unless you are very careful indeed, you'll expose yourself to little fiends like the one that just tried to meld into your soul."

'I knew it was there,' Hedwig hooted at Hermione, who blinked at her friend and Bond-mate, 'It kept trying to take over, but I'm part of you already, so I kept refusing it.'

"Thank you, Hedwig," Hermione patted her owl fondly, before adding to the kindly woman, "And, thank you as well; I dunno what I would've done, if not for your help- and all of yours, too," she added further to the boys.

"Eh, it's no trouble," Gregory Goyle muttered, before shuffling awkwardly past the woman…

Who held out a bar of chocolate for Hermione; Honeyduke's, was the name on the wrapper, "Here, dearie."

"Ah, I don't eat sweets, ma'am."

"I insist," the woman took Hermione's hand with one of her warm, wrinkled hands, and placed the bar in her grip with a smile, "One piece a day, until the bar is finished, and even the echo of that little rascal's meddling will vanish from your flesh and soul."

And off she tottered, but not before Justin Finch-Fletchley asked curiously, "Um, pardon me ma'am, but are you a teacher?"

The woman laughed, a sound that reminded Hermione of her gran, "Why, of course not! I just push the snack trolley," and with that, she was gone.

Leaving Hermione with Justin, Ernie, and… "Oh, where did the other three go?" She hadn't even thanked them.

"Eh, probably to brownnose up to some upperclassmen," Ernie MacMillan said with distaste, looking in the direction Gregory had gone, adding to Hermione, who was starting to suspect Ernie might be a bully, "At least, that's what Draco would do; Vinnie and Greg just follow him around, 'cause that's what their fathers do for Draco's dad."

"Well, hope that goes well for them," Justin said, before turning back to Hermione, "Though, now that the crisis is averted, I hope you're feeling better."

Hermione reassured them, and then invited, "Would you like to sit together for the ride?"

"Sure," Ernie shrugged, hauling over a trunk he'd apparently brought with him; once it was stowed, he asked her curiously, "So, you got attacked by a fiend, but didn't you know there's reasons nobody does magic in the Muggle world?"

Hermione frowned; that didn't track, "I've used my wand just fine."

"That's a wand; compared to focused meditation, divination, or rituals, anything done with a wand is child's play," Ernie waved a hand and sat across from Hermione, Justin sitting closer to the door, which was left open; as for Hedwig, she just sat on Hermione's knee and watched the boys with as much curiosity as Hermione was. "Do it wrong, and you'll attract the wrong sort of attention."

"Like that centipede?" Justin asked.

"Oh, there's worse out there," Hermione nodded, digging in her satchel for the primer Demi-Fiends and You: How Not To Get Possessed by Gilderoy Lockhart. "I mean, Mr. Lockhart goes on about how you shouldn't venture into certain places at certain times, and to be wary of rattling closets, but I didn't know you could catch a possession from meditating!" the author certainly hadn't mentioned it!

"Me either. It's just what I've, well, experienced, while studying Herbology at my family's conservatory." Ernie admitted with a wince, eyes a bit haunted as he elaborated, "The manor it's in, my family's manor that is, it's pretty… infamous, for being the haunt of demi-fiends and ghosts."

Hermione's eyes widened; that meant he'd probably been attacked before as well, "O-Oh… I'm guessing you noticed the signs when I stumbled into Justin, huh? Oh, and sorry about that, again."

"It's fine, but nah, I didn't really notice. Then again, I think a demi-fiend possession is different from a lesser daemon possession. I mean," Ernie smirked slightly, "they're different things to begin with, after all."

Well, Hermione was always eager to learn; and while the Salome book Realms, Rites, and Rituals had a lot to say about Listening, it hadn't warned Hermione about the dangers of doing so in the Muggle world, and neither she or Mr. Lockhart made the distinction between demi-fiends and lesser daemons.

So, Hermione pulled out a fresh composition notebook and a biro, clicked the pen, and asked Ernie with a smile, one he warily returned, "What makes demi-fiends different from lesser daemons, then?"

.
[..|..]
.​

Harry saw the platform from a distance long before Yavanna arrived at it, the squat building of brown brick and glass glittering in the morning sun. Next to it, the Hogwarts Express seemed like a ferret or weasel to his and Vera's Sense, eager to get started on its latest journey, one of only four it took every year.

"They should really run it more often," Harry observed as Yavanna swirled and blew through a forest, drawing ever closer to their destination. "You can tell it's really restless, even from here."

But Vera frowned, "Uh, Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"Won't all those wizards get surprised if a big forest fox lands in their midst?"

Yavanna made a noise that sounded a bit like the call of a whale- and suddenly arrowed at one edge of the platform!

"WHOA!" Harry hollered, gripping a root on the avatar's back with one hand and holding onto his hat with the other.

"WHEE!" Vera cheered, holding onto the back strap of her Shaman's bag with her teeth, snow-white body rippling in the sudden breeze.

A strong gust of wind suddenly swept across the platform, carrying some early Autumn leaves and dirt, and rustling quite a few people in the process. Such was the clamor, nobody noticed Harry Potter sliding to a stop on his feet near the back of the train, a rather ruffled three-tailed kitsune hanging from his bag's strap by her teeth-

"Vera-" thump "-thanks. I'd rather not replace my bag…" a small jade idol fell into Harry's hand: an 8-tailed fox with closed eyes, seeming to thrum with its own heartbeat. "…huh. Didn't know she could do that."

"Me either," Vera yipped, before looking around at the crowds gathering themselves; she hid a little behind Harry, "Um… lotsa people. More than in Diagon Alley."

"Mmm, yeah," Harry nodded, feeling rather… unnerved; it was the most people he'd seen since his Uncle dropped him off at the Forest of Dean.

Deciding that the mass of humanity wasn't very interesting, Harry started looking at the nearby train cars; a caboose, and- there: a set of stairs leading onto the Express proper, where a girl with short red hair in ill-fitting and worn olive green robes was trying to get her trunk up, but it'd snagged on the bottom step.

"Oh, look Vera. A new friend."

"What is it with you and finding girls? First me, then Librarian gets all fond of you, then Wyne, and now whoever this is." Vera teased as the pair made haste to the girl and the Express let out a loud, shrill whistle; a shift in the crowd came as the last few students made hasty farewells, and those already boarded began waving goodbye to their loved ones.

"You're my familiar, Librarian's our teacher, and Wyne is my friend, so stop implying things," Harry told his sister before arriving at the now-more-struggling redhead, "Hey there."

She looked up, red-faced and angry, "What?!"

Raising a finger, Harry reached down and pulled the trunk slightly, unhooking one of its iron fittings from the bottom of the stairs, "Up you go."

"Blimey, thanks so much," the girl – who Harry had already nicknamed Red Smatter in his head, on account of the hair and freckles – said with breathless relief as Harry helped her carry the actually rather heavy trunk onto the train, "My ruddy brothers made me late and then mum started talking to the MacMillans, and the twins were s'posed to help out but ran off due to a spider one of their friends had. Seriously, thanks a million, mate," she finished as Harry put her trunk on the overhead rack.

"Oh, it's no trouble. It's just common courtesy to help someone in need," Harry smiled as he took off his hat and pulled his bag off his shoulder, smiling- oh, darn, his hands were full, "Ah, wait a moment…"

Placing the bag next to Vera, who was already on the bench and watching with amusement, Harry reached out and knocked on the wood paneling over where he was planning to sit, "Excuse me, but could I get a hook for my hat, please?"

The wood rattled briefly, and then flipped around, presenting a brass hat hook.

"Thank you," Harry hung his hat and turned back to the girl, who was blinking in surprise at him, "Harry Potter, at your service."

Now she looked real confused, but looked at the fading white scar on Harry's head all the same, "No way…" then her expression turned disbelieving, "Wait… all the pictures of you have you wearing round glasses, not oval."

Harry shrugged, "Well, I never met any of those artists. Besides, they could never get my nose or shoulders right."

"Probably because they were copying pictures of your dad, I wager," Vera piped up, before nosing around in Harry's bag for something.

"Yeah, that's probably it," Harry nodded, about to ask the girl her name, but saw she was staring at Vera's tails with clear shock.

"…is that a, um, kit-soon?" Red Smatter asked, sounding nervous.

"Yeah, this is Vera, my Bonded familiar, and it's pronounced kit-SU-neigh. And you are?"

Red started, partly due to the train beginning to move, no doubt, muttering, "Ah, bugger, manners, right." She straightened up – which made her robes pull in unfortunate ways – and curtseyed slightly, clearly trying to remember some etiquette lessons she'd learned in the past, "Thank you again for your assistance, Mr. Potter. Veronica Beatrice Weasley, at your service and your family's."

Harry bowed slightly at the waist, "Charmed, but let's not stand on ceremony. We're not in a ballroom, after all."

"Blimey, thank you," Red visibly relaxed, slumping into the seat across from Harry, "And, if you don't mind, it's just Ron."

"Ron, then," Harry replied with absolutely no intention of calling Red that outside formal or group situations, sitting down with a bit more grace and fishing out his wand at the same time, "I don't mean to be forward, but those robes look like they're two sizes too small, and I know a resizing Charm; if you like, I can-"

"Bloody hell, please." One swiftly cast spell later, Red put her hands over her tomato-red face and groaned, "I kept tellin' mum I needed new robes, but nooo, the ones I got are still in good shape." She looked through her fingers, a glint of an idea in her blue eyes, "Uh, hey, could you cast that on my other clothes?"

"I could teach you the spell, if you like," Harry replied, feeling like it'd be rather improper to go through a girl's clothes and spell them… or a boy's, for that matter; but then Red mumbled something, looking dejected, "Sorry, didn't catch that?"

"My wand doesn't work right," she replied, pulling out- oh, wow, that wand looked like it'd been around the valley and a few hills as well, "Just look: lumos."

A flickering light buzzed into existence for a few moments before fizzling out. Vera whistled while the gears in Harry's head spun, "Yeah, magic's just not flowing right, Harry."

"You can see that?" Red asked while Harry started pulling small boxes from his bag.

"Sure! Us kitsune can see the flow of magic in most things, so long's there's nothing blocking our view. In fact, I think most Spirits can do that sort of thing."

"Spirit… is that anything like a ghoul?" where had Harry put- oh, there were the samples Remus got him for his last birthday.

"Uh, no." Vera wrinkled her snout, "A ghoul is a demi-fiend that manifests from dirt, moss, and lichen, and is one of the most harmless magical creatures you can ever encounter. A Spirit is the manifested essence of an aspect of Nature, individual and conscious, and is classed as a Magical Being. So, like you Magical Humans, but, y'know, furrier."

"Huh. Bill didn't go into all that detail when he mentioned meeting a stone kitsune- oh, he's my oldest brother, and a Curse-Breaker for Gringotts," Red elaborated with pride, but then noticed Harry setting boxes next to where he was seated, "Uh, what's all that, Harry?"

"I've been learning a bit about wands and how they're made, even made one of my own with my teacher's help," Harry replied with enthusiasm; a white little lie, but revealing too much about himself so early would be unwise, even to so obvious a good soul as Red here.

"Wicked," Red breathed, looking a little envious, "Figures Dumbledore would set you up with good tutors, though."

"Actually, he never did," Harry said, "I learned most of what I know from some Fae I found in an abandoned manor."

"…pull the other one."

"No, really. A full horde of 300-odd wood sprites with a trio Scribes running the show, Exiles to a one."

"Blimey! Three hundred Faeries here?" Red looked floored, "I've only seen a little marsh sprite once or twice, while visiting the Lovegoods."

"Neighbors?"

"Yeah. Their daughter Luna's a little… odd, but she's alright."

"Nice, but yeah, I ran across the place a few years ago, after my Uncle booted me out the door."

"Wait… he…" Red looked at Vera, who gave her a sharp, angry nod; then Red's ears started getting red, which meant anger, Harry guessed, "Why the bleedin' hell would he go and abandon you?!"

"I… stumbled onto some druid-style nature magic, and, well," Harry laughed sheepishly, "ended up filling the house with rodents from all over the area, completely by accident."

"Yeah, but that's just accidental magic! Ain't no reason to kick someone out!"

"Oh, and he, and both my other relatives, hated magic. Like, called it freakish and everything. But that's in the past; honestly," Harry smiled wide, putting a hand on Vera's shoulders while Red blinked more at him, "punting me out the door was the best thing my Uncle ever did for me."

"…well, you seem happy, so… I guess, if you say so."

"I know so, and on that note, may I examine your wand, please?"

"Oh, uh, sure. Dunno what Faeries know about wands, but if it gets it working right," Red flipped the wand over and held it out to Harry handle-first.

Harry took it with a smile and nod… and immediately noticed what was wrong, "Hmm… wand hand?" he held out his hand; after a little reddening of her cheeks, Red put her right hand in Harry's palm.

"…you're not like I expected you to be," she admitted after a moment, as Harry looked between the wand and his new friend's hand, frowning all the while. "I expected you to be, um…"

"Escorted by Aurors everywhere and up myself so far I could see daylight again?"

"What? No! I meant… uh, more Muggle than Wizard."

Harry met her eyes, "To be fair, you're literally the first person my age I've talked to in almost 3 years. Only other human I've been around has been a good-mannered Werewolf, too." He let go of her hand while she digested that, and twirled her wand with pursed lips, "Also, this isn't your wand. Whose is it?"

Red fidgeted, "Um… well, my brother Charlie's gone off to Romania to study dragons, so he got himself a new wand and… gave his old one to me…" she cast her eyes down and fidgeted some more, turning red again in embarrassment.

At this point, both Harry and Vera had come to the conclusion that Red Smatter – or Ron Weasley, but that was such a plain name, they would only call her that in formal situations – their new friend's family didn't have much money; old robes, old manner of formal address, and a hand-me-down wand.

Well, never let it be said that Harry Potter wasn't a generous sort.

"Right, so, I can make you a new wand, but it'll cost you." Harry told Red gravely.

"Uh… I don't really have much money," Red admitted, looking more uncomfortable by the moment.

"That's alright, I wasn't going to ask for any money in the first place," Harry said more cheerfully, along with his stomach giving a slight growl, and Vera licking her chops, "I was actually going to ask if that was corned beef and pickle I smelled while lifting your trunk?"

Red smiled warily, laughing a little, "You… you'd make a wand… for a sandwich?"

"Is it homemade?"

"Yeah, mum made them just this morning."

"One for me and one for Vera, and you get a wand, plus two new friends. Deal?" Harry held out his hand to shake.

To her credit, Red didn't hesitate, and took his hand with a bright smile, "Deal."

Vera put her paw on their joined hands, "And so it is."

Taking back his hand, Harry nodded surely and pulled over a box, trying to ignore the occasional clattering of the train as it ran on its tracks in favor of putting himself in the mindset for crafting a wand, "Right, now, put your hand over these samples of wood, one at a time, and tell me which one makes your hand tingle the best…"

.

.

.

_\|/_

.

.

.​

 

[lusians]

oh I had forgotten about this one xD
Tnx for new chap and now I go reread to remember what was going on.

 

[Phylonemios]

YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEES !
*point a gun at you*
You should write, or things might go bad.

 

[Have a Little Feith]

I read this on FFN, but I musta still been a little tired, because I completely missed the "plus 2 new friends" bit at the end. Good chapter, though that starting snippets thing felt like it was practically half the chapter. Probably about 1/3-1/4 in practice, though. The funniest part was the "It costs how much?" Followed by the asker suffering a fatal heart attack. While the death isn't funny, the series of events leading up to it certainly was.

 

[gohomepls]

Nice to see a new chapter of one of my favorite AUs

 

[Lemonbarb]

So, past a seemingly friendly Draco, that's one "don't fuck future allies" talk away from being in cahoots with a maybe-Shaman?

Hermione nodded, digging in her satchel for the primer Demi-Fiends and You: How Not To Get Possessed by Gilderoy Lockhart.

Click to shrink...

Bar the possession near-miss. Wonder how different this Lockhart is in this AU?

Is he just a con artist, or a very creative one with burning memories by his side?

"Thank you again for your assistance, Mr. Potter. Rolanda Beatrice Weasley, at your service and your family's."

Click to shrink...

Aaaand, Ron's a bitchin', instead.

At least she's lucky to have James Harry the Shaman for a pal.

 

[corndogman]

YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEES !
*point a gun at you*
You should write, or things might go bad.

Click to shrink...

Easy, easy! They can write as fast or slow as they want. Pressuring an author is a good way to get bad writing, if you get any at all.

 

[Baked the Author]

Easy, easy! They can write as fast or slow as they want. Pressuring an author is a good way to get bad writing, if you get any at all.

Click to shrink...

To be entirely fair, it's been a year and a half since the last chapter. Hopefully the next one won't be as long a wait.

Wonder how different this Lockhart is in this AU?

Click to shrink...

Quite a bit, actually. How different will have to wait for Book 3, unfortunately.

And I say unfortunately, because he's fun to write as I've characterized him.

Good chapter, though that starting snippets thing felt like it was practically half the chapter. Probably about 1/3-1/4 in practice, though.

Click to shrink...

Closer to 1/4 in practice, yes. On the bright side, there will only be one short pre-chapter snippet in the next chapter, and said chapter will either be as long or longer than this one. There's a lot to cover, after all.

YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEES !
*point a gun at you*
You should write, or things might go bad.

Click to shrink...

*points a pseudopod at you*
I appreciate your excitement, but this is a tree you don't want to bark up. I will write as quickly or slowly as required to bring quality chapters for your viewing pleasure.

It shouldn't take a year this time, though...

 

[Nurse]

So many fics making a comeback. This really is the most wonderful time of the year. ^_^

 

[Lemonbarb]

A couple of quotes to reply to, by OP interest~

Quite a bit, actually. How different will have to wait for Book 3, unfortunately.

And I say unfortunately, because he's fun to write as I've characterized him.

Click to shrink...

Well, best playing it as a mystery. It's as if we're reading a wholely new book (rewritten et al~)

Still, Lockhart as a mystery, or if his fate would be the same. Or different with a Shaman!Harry around instead, could be another interesting angle on all sorts of lenses...

*points a pseudopod at you*
I appreciate your excitement, but this is a tree you don't want to bark up. I will write as quickly or slowly as required to bring quality chapters for your viewing pleasure.

It shouldn't take a year this time, though...

Click to shrink...

Hehe, I see pseudopod play at hand? Just hope it's from a Mimic, instead of a Shoggoth...

Eldritch jokes aside to sheathe. My lazy hunch is "probably not as bad pressure as JK Rowlings" writing. Which uh, could have taken up to two years, for "Pottermania" fans to read the last book. Or up to three on a bad year.

Heck, may even joke it took as early as "just a year" for the first sequel (and who knows how many year/s went into the first book, back when JK Rowling was having crumpets/pancakes on a train, instead of being a Twitter/X [RULE 8]).

-

I mean. Rambling aside. No need to ruffle up tree's, least they go all whomping on you.

And no doubt the Whomping Willow be such a furious tree, I'd not be surprised it'd curse as much as R2D2 on Shaman!Harry. Especially if it goes from "crush a fucking wizard", to "vent/whomp on the fucking shaman I can RAGE on", with a lot of explicit swearing (but no cursing. Curses, said tree fucking hates even more than fucking demons...)

 

[Crimson Reiter]

I get so happy every time I see an update of this wonderful story!! Thank you very much for the chapter!!

 

[Broodlord]

"A petty daemon of… what are you, then? Greed, or Envy, or perhaps you are Fear?" the old woman asked the twitching, screeching thing held in her fingers, face still kind, but her eyes were cold as the peaks of the Alps in winter. "Ah, it matters little what ye are, or from whence ye came; the Muggle world is rotten with your ilk, and you are not welcome here."

-snap-

With a muted sound of fingers snapping together, the hideous centipede – apparently a daemon, which shocked Hermione something fierce – crinkled and crumbled and vanished into thin air.

"Hm!" the old woman dusted her hands off, the room filling with warmth as swiftly as the daemon disappeared, "That's all settled; now. Are you alright, dearie?"

Hermione twitched, looking at the… woman? …after searching her mind for the words, she finally managed to say, "I… yes, I… I think so… But I don't understand, how did it get at me in the first place?"

The old woman patted Hermione on the knee, and began rummaging in her robes while talking, "My dear, you are not the first to try listening to the world, nor do I expect you'll be the last. But out there, in the world of cold machines and belligerent logic, unless you are very careful indeed, you'll expose yourself to little fiends like the one that just tried to meld into your soul."

Click to shrink...

I am very curious about this part as to what is causing the muggle world to be so infested by those creatures.

The first gut reaction I have is that it's because she used a nature spell in an industrial area and that was what caused the issue but that doesn't explain why the muggle world is so infested with those things in the first place since the very fact they are congregating there must mean that something is attracting them beyond just the lack of nature. Maybe the lack of nature means that there aren't any spirits to hunt or stop the demi-fiends which makes them a safe spot for them to grow and hunt.

However, the issue with this theory is that it would mean that industry or technology doesn't have any associated spirits or magical creatures associated with it which would make technology inherently corruptive or malicious. I find that idea a bit odd but I guess if we consider that such spirits are of the natural world then the unnatural world wouldn't have a place for them, it's not that technology and industry are darkly aligned but rather it's completely neutral and by far a large number of dark entities that feed off of humans find that kind of ground appealing than light ones, that still raises the question though why light entities that are also based on an emotion such as the spirit of generosity we see here don't also flock there as well.

Another possibility might be this is a side effect of the statue kicking in. With wizards separating themselves, any protection that would have kept these things out is gone with them and since wizards know how to protect themselves and hunt them down if they get out of hand means that they are a poor target but muggles, who now lack any such protection, are by far more vulnerable as prey so they simple went where to the easier prey rather than bash their head against the wizards.

Or perhaps this is a sign that technology and magic just cannot mix on a fundamental level for whatever reason. In practice this would mean that when the two meet, lets say by a wizard, they would get the equivalent of an 'error' message and one of those things gets spat out which would give the impression that demi-fiends are infesting the modern world when in reality it's just a fundamental incompatibility between the two systems making itself known.

Whatever the case is I am very curios to see how this develops in the future even if we will be getting whatever answers filtered through a druids viewpoints.

 

[Mastersgt]

not gonna lie, but Book 1: Chapter 10 "The Twilight Shepherds" is my favorite chapter. Always makes me cry. Definitely hoping that at some point someone(like Dumbledore or Bones or something) will ask for some memories from James's childhood, only to be given a copy of this memory. Would LOVE to see/read Dumbledore's shock from seeing that event.

 

[WanderingDragon]

So happy this is getting updated again How much did the Hogwarts Express cost though?

 

[Finale]

YEEEEEESSSSS! The best Harry Potter story I've read is still alive!

 

[Baked the Author]

YEEEEEESSSSS! The best Harry Potter story I've read is still alive!

Click to shrink...

It will never die. Ever.

No matter what other projects I'm working on, this one is always in development.

 

[Demonianism]

Yessssssssss.

TYVMFTC

 

[OmegaYgg]

Woohoo, nice chapter. I wonder does this mean that your irl issues are mostly solved that you are back to writing, or was this more of a one off Christmas/New Year special and you are still busy?

 

[Baked the Author]

Woohoo, nice chapter. I wonder does this mean that your irl issues are mostly solved that you are back to writing, or was this more of a one off Christmas/New Year special and you are still busy?

Click to shrink...

I am still incredibly busy, but I was able to find the time to finish this chapter, because I had a lot of time off this holiday.

There will be more words within the next week or so; probably not for this just yet, but for something.

 

[Spelloyal]

I just read the whole thing and it's a very interesting fic!!!

I really hope it starts to be updated more frequently.

 

[Baked the Author]

I just read the whole thing and it's a very interesting fic!!!

I really hope it starts to be updated more frequently.

Click to shrink...

*painfully looks up from notes*

Currently, I'm working on the next chapter of my Naruto fic, In Glorious Colors (which, interestingly, is the other fic I work on regularly that isn't a crossover).

As for this one, barring any interruptions from more back injuries (owie), I should have another chapter before Easter.

And damnit, I don't want to spend too much time on the Express, but I gotta. Characterization needs to happen. So, most of next chapter should be that, and then the part every Harry Potter fic writer dreads: the Sorting.

Good thing I already have that part outlined.

 

[OmegaYgg]

*painfully looks up from notes*

Currently, I'm working on the next chapter of my Naruto fic, In Glorious Colors (which, interestingly, is the other fic I work on regularly that isn't a crossover).

As for this one, barring any interruptions from more back injuries (owie), I should have another chapter before Easter.

And damnit, I don't want to spend too much time on the Express, but I gotta. Characterization needs to happen. So, most of next chapter should be that, and then the part every Harry Potter fic writer dreads: the Sorting.

Good thing I already have that part outlined.

Click to shrink...

Nice, In Glorious colors fic is how I discovered your account due to sb recommending that fic on discord server I am in, so I am excited.