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This diary entry is written by alyssss. ( View all entries )
Previous entry: Diary 28 January 2011 in category (general)

Hermione's Story.Category: (general)
Saturday, 29 January 2011
03:18:39 PM (GMT)
As some of you may well know, i like to write... stuff.
I have been told to try writing stories using my own material but i am still writing
Harry-Potter related fan-fics. If you check out my kupipage (srhpfftdhany), then you
can read the first in a selection of stories i am writing in addition to the one I am
currently working on. I have this annoying habit of half-finishing stories, which i
am VERY sorry for. So here's the first chapter of another story i may write, or may
not. If you like it, please say. If you think it can be improved, please say. Any
other comments, please say. I will be grateful.
The Letter
I closed my eyes against the cool summer air and ran, as fast as I could, desperate to get away. I didn’t want to listen to what my mother had to say and I didn’t want to know. Thinking that if I didn’t hear what she said then it wasn’t true; I jammed my fingers into my ears and turned into the park, streaking through the gate, leaping lightly over the low fence and across the playground, making the roundabout spin as I sped past. I ran into the forest and downhill, dodging trees and jumping over puddles of mud as I stumbled down the path. As the forest thickened, I was forced to remove my fingers from my ears in order to use my hands to hold onto the trees as I descended. I could hear my mother shouting me from the top of the hill, begging me to go no further, to stop and think about what I was doing, to come back and listen to what she had to say. I ignored her. I overheard her talking to my father, in the kitchen, when they thought I was watching TV. She said something about having been to the hospital- my dad asked her if she was pregnant again, like it would have been some sort of nightmare situation. I wanted to drown out their conversation- I didn’t want to have to listen to them talking about… about doing it. But then she said ‘No.’ She said that she’d been for tests, she said that she was ill, that she had cancer. I wanted to pretend that what I’d heard was a lie- that I’d heard it wrong. Then I heard my father sobbing and sitting down at the kitchen table, my mum crying and sitting next to him. They started talking in quiet voices about how they were going to tell me, because apparently, I had to know. But I didn’t want to know. That was when I seized my chance- I crept from the living room, silently past the kitchen and upstairs to my room. I grabbed a jacket from the cupboard and pulled it on, before opening the window and sliding down the drainpipe, landing ninja-like on the grass below and leaping over the gate at the back of the garden, which led to the street behind. So there I was, running down the hill, dodging trees, when I reached a clearing. The canopy above me was still thick and the clearing was only small, but it was enough. I stopped in the centre and looked cautiously around me- keeping my ears open for any sounds that would suggest my mother was approaching. Sitting down on one of the large, knarled roots of an old oak tree, I sat down to catch my breath and started to think. My entire life was falling apart- my mother had cancer, my dad was struggling to get work and strange things always seemed to happen around me, always seemed to follow me around. I’d gotten used to them by now- my bushy hair turning bright red when I got angry, green when I was jealous and blue when I was sad. My nose changing shapes unexpectedly, my height changing nearly everyday and my eyes constantly changing colour had become normal for me- although it was a problem when I went to school. People would marvel at how my eyes were never the same colour, and that somehow one day I had freckles and the next, none. I was home schooled to begin with, but then my grandma fell ill and my mother had to put me into a normal school so that she could care for her. The other children picked on me for being ‘special’ and I soon learned to keep my ‘powers’ under control- although sometimes my emotions got the better of me and I was forced to run into an out-of-bounds corner of the playground or the toilets to regain my usual appearance. I heard the snapping of a twig and looked up from the beetle I had been gazing absent-mindedly at while I thought. I got to my feet and looked around cautiously- had I been followed by my mother? Or perhaps my father? It was starting to go dark and I didn’t trust the woods at the best of times, least of all when there seemed to be someone there, and the light was fading fast. Whether they be visible to me or not, I was certain they were a threat. A dark figure emerged from behind a tree a short distance away and started towards me. I turned away from them and began to walk quickly in the opposite direction- whoever it was, they’d appeared out of mid air, and that was never a good sign. “Stop.” Asked a voice- it belonged to a man. It was deep and strict, but soft at the same time. I did as it asked- I knew from experience to listen to people that might hurt you. “I’m not going to hurt you, Miss Granger. Turn around.” I turned to face the man, and was shocked to find him standing directly behind me. How had he known what I was thinking? He removed his hood to show himself- he had white skin, a hooked nose and greasy black curtains of hair, which hung limply at the side of his face. His black eyes seemed to be boring into me, reading me. I noticed that he was wearing a long black cloak, most unusual attire for someone of this day and age. I took a step back as he slipped a hand into his cloak, but my worst fears were not correct- from the inside pocket of his cloak, he drew an envelope, and held it out for me to take. He watched me apprehensively as I read my name, written in glistening green ink on the front, then turned the envelope over and slipped my finger under the green wax seal on the back, which bore a large letter ‘H’. I pulled two pieces of thick parchment from the envelope, and inhaled the heavenly smell of crisp, fresh parchment. I’d always preferred parchment to ordinary paper. Tucking the second piece of parchment between my middle and index finger, I opened the first and read the letter, under the watchful eye of the strange man who had delivered it to me. HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore (Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Source., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards) Dear Miss Granger, We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31. Yours Sincerely. Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress “She awaits my owl?” I wondered outloud, momentarily forgetting the strange person standing before me. I read the letter several more times, expecting it to be a prank, but then something caught my eye. Hogwarts. Witchcraft and Wizardry. I was confident neither of those things existed, but then there was no other explanation as to how the man had gotten here without me hearing him. “Owl post is the main method of communication in our world, Miss Granger. I suggest you lead me to your place of residence, so that I may explain this… what I think must be a strange situation, to your parents.” “Wait… how do I know you’re speaking the truth?” “I have already answered one of your questions. The rest, I will answer in due time. Now, let us get out of this godforsaken forest. You have no idea of the danger we will both be in, should be remain here much longer.” The stranger grabbed my arm and twisted away from me. Everything went black, and suddenly I found it rather hard to breath. It felt as though bricks were falling upon my head, iron strips were wrapping themselves around me and squashing my chest, and as though invisible vines had wrapped themselves around each of my limbs and were attempting to take them from me. My feet once again touched solid ground and the incredibly unpleasant sensation that had taken hold vanished, and when I opened my eyes I discovered that I was standing on the pavement in front of my house, with the strange man standing next to me, casually tucking a stick of wood into the inside pocket of his cloak. “What…?” “All in good time, Miss Granger.” I walked up the path and knocked lightly upon my front door. After a few seconds it was wrenched open by my mother, who grabbed me instantly and pulled me to her chest, holding me like she would never let go. I was instantly reminded of the unpleasant experience which had occurred seconds earlier. Gasping, I pulled myself away from here and looked questioningly at the man who had brought me here. I was still tightly clutching the parchment and the envelope. “Mrs Granger, I assume?” The man spoke, bowing slightly and stepping into the house. I lead him down the hallway and into the living room. He took the armchair closest to the fireplace and I sat on the edge of the sofa, leaning forward, eager for him to being his explanation. My mother followed us into the room and sat beside me on the sofa. My father was already sitting in the other armchair, his feet up on the footstool, reading a newspaper and apparently completely unaware of the strange man sitting across from him, and the return of his momentarily missing daughter. The visitor gave a slight cough and my father jumped, dropping the newspaper and looking enquiringly at the man, before turning towards the sofa and spotting me. “Oh, back from our little outing, are we?” he questioned. I silently nodded and kept my attention on the strange man, who was watching the scene unfold with great interest. “My name is Severus Snape, and I am a teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.” He began. He paused – apparently used to being rudely interrupted at this point in his speech, but my mother and father were both staring at him in shocked silence. “I should probably explain to you both that your daughter is an extremely talented muggle-born witch. By this, I mean that she was born from non-magical parents, and is able to perform magic. The ministry of magic keeps tabs on every single act of magic performed by under elevens. The most magical children from around the country are chosen to attend Hogwarts to develop their magical abilities. I shall now point out that around forty truly magical children are born each year in the United Kingdom, from either Pure-Blood, Half-Blood or Muggle-Born families. Each of these children is given a place at Hogwarts. There are five boys and five girls of each year in each house, and there are four houses, and seven years. The houses will become their families whilst they are at the school. Your daughter has the official letter from the school, which includes a booklist and instructions concerning transport to the school. If you wish, she shall attend the school for the next seven years, meeting other witches and wizards from around the country and learning numerous subjects such as transfiguration, charms, potions, astronomy, herbology and defence against the dark arts, and studying more subjects as her time at the school goes on. I could take your reply back to the headmaster when I leave you, or I could leave you to arrange an owl and send the reply yourself. Either way, I need some idea of what you intend on doing now.” My parents sat in shocked silence for a moment. My dad looked at my mother, my mother looked at my father, and at the same time, they nodded. “Then I shall see you in September, Miss Granger.” The professor said, getting to his feet and shaking my hand. He then gave a quick explanation of how to get to Diagon Alley, before turning on the spot and vanishing in swirl of billowing black robes.
Here's some other random shizz. You don't have to read it, it's up to you, but they're just some random other projects i started and never finished. -From the dark side-
Chapter 1 Severus Snape marched up the long, dark corridor and burst into a large, dimly lit room, which was mostly filled by a long oak table. Numerous torches were attached to the wall, illuminating the pale faces of several people sitting around the table, and casting Snape’s sunken eyes into shadow beneath his greasy curtain of ivory black hair and highlighting his abnormally large, bent nose and pale yellow skin. His black cloak wafted around his ankles like a vertical sea of swirling darkness as he walked to the head of the table and took a seat next to the figure that was clearly in charge. “My lord, the prophecy, it has been delivered.” He gasped, panting for breath as though he had just sprinted all the way from Hogsmeade to the south of England, despite having apparated. The figure sitting at the head of the table inclined his head slightly and rested his elbows atop the table, placing the tip of his fingers together and peering over the top of them at the latest addition to the party. “Continue, Severus.” The figure said, his handsome eyes glinting in the torchlight as he turned to face his most loyal servant. Snape rose to his feet, looked around at the pale faces peering up at him and cleared his throat. “The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not…and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives…the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies.” He recited perfectly, slowly, closing his eyes as he neared the end so as to remember more clearly what the fortune-teller had told his old headmaster. Snape sat back down and looked expectedly at his master. The figure at the head of the table closed his eyes and looked down at the polished brown oak, running his hands through his chocolate brown hair. After several minutes, he rose to his feet and addressed the rest of the room, who had been watching him with earnest. “My loyal death eaters, what Severus has told me can mean two things. I know of two wizarding families in the UK who are expecting a child at the end of July- the Potters and the Longbottoms. This child, according to the prophecy, will have the power to defeat me, and have powers that I do not know exist. It also states that ‘neither can live while the other survives’. Do you all agree that this must mean I must kill the child in order to allow my own survival?” A few of his followers looked around uncertainly as several of the more bloodthirsty death eaters nodded in agreement. “Then it is settled. I shall wait until both children are born- and decide which is more of a threat to me. I shall kill that child first, then the other just to be sure of my own safety. Surely, once the only people who are able to stop me are dead, then I shall be unstoppable, immortal? Wizards everywhere fear my name, the mere thought of me sends many mad with fear… once I have done this, destroyed their last ounce of hope… oh, the opportunities. I shall be more than just Lord Voldemort! I shall be… the minister for magic… the world!” He roared, triumph in his voice. Sitting back down, he stroked the large snake that had found itself a resting place on the back of his chair and hissed softly to it, in a language that only the two of them out of all of the people in the room could understand. The death eaters sat nervously, perched on the edge of their seats, unsure over whether they should get up and leave, or speak, or simply sit in silence. “My lord…” Snape whispered, looking up at his master with large watery eyes. “What are you lot still doing here?” He snapped, “Get out of my sight!” All of the death eaters jumped to their feet and rushed from the room, except one. Snape remained at his seat, blinking up at the Dark Lord. “Sire,” “Why are you still here, Severus?” “Sire, I beg you. Please, do not harm Lily Potter.” “Severus, would I be mistaken in thinking that you have a soft spot for that mudblood?” “My lord… I…” “It is quite alright, Severus. I only intend on killing the child- Lily and her husband are free to live. James is a pureblood wizard after all, and it would be such a waste to kill him. Of course, it is such a shame that he married that muggle, but some things…” he sighed heavily and closed his eyes. “They cannot be helped. Severus, I have a favour to ask of you.” Chapter 2 October 31st, 1981 The dark lord looked around at his surroundings- he had just apparated into the graveyard in Godric’s Hollow. Glancing up at the street signs, he rushed down the cobbled street, searching. According to Wormtail’s instructions, it was around here somewhere. Nearing the edge of the village, he spied a row of evenly spaced, neat Victorian cottages. A group of muggle children, dressed in wizards cloaks and hats and clutching pretend broomsticks rushed past, munching on handfuls of teeth-rotting, sugar-loaded sweets. The dark lord instinctively reached inside his robes for his wand, but stopped himself. Sure enough, Halloween was the best time of year to commit this sickening act, as nobody cast a second glance at his wizards clothing, probably assuming that he was on his way to some tacky party. Finally, he reached the last house in the row. If he had visited this place merely a few hours before, he would not have been able to see the house, but thanks to another his trusty servants, Wormtail, he was now not only able to see the property, but now also able to enter and kill the boy that had the power to end his reign of terror upon the wizarding world. He drew his wand from inside his robes, pushed open the gate and walked up the path, extremely calm considering the task ahead of him. The hem of his cloak dragged along the ground behind him, disturbing a year’s worth of dust. Stopping at the door, he went over his plan in his head. Now that the time had arrived, he realised that his plan didn’t make much sense, and wasn’t likely to work. After standing on the threshold for some time trying to think up a more workable plan, he gave up and knocked upon the door, deciding just to kill the child and parents if need be. After a few seconds, a man, slightly smaller than the dark lord, with messy black hair and round glasses, opened the door. He gasped in horror at the sight of ‘he-who-must-not-be-named’ and shouted to his wife. “Lily! It’s him! I’ll try and hold him off! Protect…” “AVADA KEDAVARA!” A flash of green light, and his knees crumpled beneath his weight, sending his limp body crashing down onto the floor. Shock, fear and determination to protect his wife and child were etched upon his face, the emptiness of his eyes reflected in his glasses. The dark lord stepped over James Potter’s corpse with ease and took his time walking up the stairs, thinking in relish of the panic going through Lily Potter’s mind as she desperately tried to protect her son. He twirled his wand around his fingers as he stepped up to the door with the sky-blue sign stuck to it: “Harry’s Room”. Pointing his wand at the centre of the door, he blasted the wood into splinters and stepped into the room, his long black cloak flapping around his ankles with every step he took towards the petrified pair in the far corner of the room. “Give me the boy, Lily.” He saw that she was unarmed, and sne

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