Blog Post NaPoWriMo 11/30/2017 - Status and wrapup for this year, plus a sample of Sweetie Belle - Hogwarts Exchange Student · 4:11am Dec 1st, 2017
First, I’d like to encourage all of you to go over to Novel-Idea’s blog post on this years NaPoWriMo effort and marvel. If I got that much done in five years, I’d be busy. Applause! And thanks to everybody who participated this year, including Tumbleweed, who needs a few words of encouragement from you guys. And last but not least, Cold in Gardez would like to remind you that there's a Writeoff this weekend.
Now, my numbers in wordcount for this month, and after the break, a sample:
Twilight Makes a Coltfriend = 5k (and done, to be posted next week)
Farmer Bruener Has Some Ponies - 2k
>Sweetie Belle - Hogwarts Exchange Student - 18k
Total
25k out of my 100k target, and 18k of that on the story I was supposed to be working on.
Not bad, considering I got nailed by a shoulder cramp about a week into it, and just shook off the muscle relaxants and pain pills this week. (FYI: If I chatted with you recently and I sounded weird, that’s it.) I have new respect for JK Rowling and her story weaving, as well as the tremendous fanbase of background that has sprung up over the last few years. What a wonderful world she’s created, and I appreciate my visits there.
And now, as I promised, the first draft of my first chapter. This will be a split-POV story, covering the exchange students Sweetie Belle, a unicorn in her first year at Hogwarts as well as Theodore Nott, a Slytherin who would have been in his seventh year at Hogwarts and his N.E.W.T. examinations, if not for the events of the last book and the death of Lord Voldemort. In their journeys, they will each make new friends, learn about the strange world they’ve been sent to, and overcome powerful dark forces. But first, the teaser:
- - Ω - -
Uncounted mages, wizards, warlocks, dragons, druids, illusionists, necromancers and such would be willing to swear that they knew how to control magic, bend it to their will, and force it to do what they wanted.
They’re all wrong.
Only a few of the most powerful know the truth.
Magic appreciates the attention.
Oh, there are rules where if a practitioner of the art were to wriggle his eyebrows just right while putting a pedal extremity forth and speaking a certain phrase, magic will bring a fire into being, but then again, the same practitioner will happily open a container of food for their pet when subjected to a plaintive ‘meow’ and nose-rub while not seeing the parallel at all.
It was a blind spot which most wizards were (of course) blind about, particularly the type of wizard who attempted to reach for unattainable power by warping and twisting magic into shapes which it did not like.
However…
Even the most insane wizard has certain lines they will not cross, crypts they will not open, or spells they keep locked away, not only against their multitudinous enemies, but against any allies they might have also. Remember, they are not the only creatures in the world who desire power, and one universal truth of the power-mad is a reluctance to share.
And a second truth is: once they are gone, what they have locked away remains.
This is why when heroes arise to battle the forces of darkness and cast them down into destruction, they should be very careful afterwards instead of celebrating their victory. Sometimes, what lies in wait for them is worse than what they just defeated.
After all, the deeper darkness is very patient.
And hungry.
- - Ω - -
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had been tattered and battered over its thousand years of existence, with generation after generation of alumni adding to the enchantments that layered its walls and protected the students inside. The end result of Lord Voldemort’s destruction a few months ago had been an enormous reshuffling of the ancient protective wards, both from the destruction rained down on the castle during the assault and the vigorous rebuilding afterwards. Every living wizard and witch who had ever walked its halls wanted to return, some merely to be comforted at the final death of the Dark wizard who had terrified them all for so long, others simply to help.
Regardless of their talent or ability, the school welcomed all of their assistance, and in the end, even the most stubborn members of the school council determined that Hogwarts was as well-defended as ever. Even a budding student of magic knows better than to mix two small spells for fear of them interacting in an explosive fashion, but these far wiser and older heads had no problem layering enchantments of vast complexity against the older spells until not even the wisest or most senile of their lot could make heads or tails out of the result.
Once the dust had settled and the final enchantments laid against the foundations, Headmistress McGonagall returned to work with all the confidence of a fireworks saleslady in the middle of a forest fire.
Despite her age and experience, she did not understand just why Hogwarts had not gone up in a whoosh of flame when the reconstruction was all over, but of course, one does not need to understand something to influence it, or the race of mankind would have died out centuries ago. Sometimes, all that was needed was a little compassion, a few flowers planted along the southern beds, and long hours spent listening to the creaks and groans of the ancient structure while nodding on occasion. It was something which Deputy Headmistress McGonagall had already puzzled about for decades before losing the Deputy part of her title and gaining a patched pointed hat which would have constantly fallen down over her eyes if she had dared to wear it.
What was worse, the whistle of wind through the ancient structure and the pops of thermal expansion and contraction were starting to make sense, but only when she was focusing her attention on other school-related tasks, such as sending letters.
“Wein, Alexander.” After the short list of names, a reluctant silence settled into the headmaster’s office, mostly muted due to the various whirling or burbling pieces of wizardly knick-knacks and oddments which the current Headmistress had not seen fit to remove, and which provided an uncomfortable reminder of the fate of the last two headmasters. The portraits of the previous headmasters all were either empty or the elderly wizards and witches were dozing in their painted chairs, with the exception of Headmaster Dumbledore’s portrait, which was empty at the moment, and one spot that Minerva McGonagall had determined would never hold Headmaster Snape’s portrait as long as she drew breath.
The Heads of Houses had gathered to oversee the task of sending out Letters for the next class year, just the four of them around the hulking oak monstrosity of a desk that even Dumbledore had cursed over when a sticky drawer refused to budge. She needed the human companionship far more than ever, because she never could have gotten through this one simple task without their assistance, although one other thing was on all of their minds.
Voldemort is dead. What now?
It was the question that showed in all three of their tense faces, from Flitwick who had taken to cultivating the arrangement of his mustache and toupee one hair at a time, to Pomona Sprout’s packages of Fitwell’s Fading Fudge which she tried to share with all of her fellow teachers, and even Horace Slughorn who had developed a faint redness to his nose and reeked of firewhisky at the most inappropriate times of the morning.
“So,” said Slughorn. “That’s it, I suppose. Twenty students in the whole new class at most, and I doubt if two or three will be Slytherin. That is if any of them actually show up.”
“You can’t really blame the parents,” said Professor Sprout, who had silently twisted one of the fudge wrappers into a foil flower while listening to the names being read off.
“They blame us, or at least some of them do.” Minerva raised her wand and let the desk do most of the work, duplicating the introductory letter and list of requirements for each of the young wizards or witches who would attend Hogwarts in the upcoming year. “I can’t say I blame them for it one bit. It’s human nature, after all. I doubt if half of the Wizengamot are the same people as I saw just last year, what with all of the resignations and accusations.”
“And deaths,” said Flitwick, in a most unexpectedly grim tone for his squeaky voice. “The goblins are restless, for starters, and a number of the forces who defied Voldemort to assist our side are quietly chafing at what they see as an inadequate amount of appreciation for their sacrifice. Remember.” He paused and placed his wand on the old desk with the faintest click of ancient wood against wood. “A house elf died to save Harry Potter. Very little has been said about what happened at Malfoy Manor, but a house elf attacked and disarmed a wizard, that much is certain. All of the wizarding Houses have house elves. Every one of them. What would become of our world if they decided to pick up wands to shape it, instead of being shaped by it? All of the wizarding world could be shaken to its foundations. It is no wonder the students are afraid.”
“It’s not just the new students who are reluctant.” Professor McGonagall took a stack of letters off the sideboard of the desk and placed them on the table between them. “So many of them wrote saying they want to step back for a year or two. The main hall will be so empty.”
Professor Sprout placed her folded foil flower on top of the pile, where it took root and began to bloom. “As long as a single student wishes to return to Hogwarts, I’ll be here to teach them. Minerva, I know you’ve talked about sending the students to other schools, but where would you send them? Durmstrang? They’re in a worse tizzy than anywhere else. Beauxbatons might take them, particularly if Hagrid were to do the asking, but they’d never be accepted as fellow students. And Ilvermorny?” Professor Sprout rolled her eyes. “They’d be dressing in breach-clothes and running half naked around the forest.”
“The Americans are not that bad, Pomona,” scolded Professor McGonagall mildly. “Besides, it would only be for a year while we…”
She trailed off, absently looking up at where Fawkes was quietly preening. There had been almost a noise of some sort, a settling of stones deep in the castle structure that caused a light breeze to blow in from the open window, and a voice that might have said something she could have understood if she were a building too.
“While the school crumbles, and the wizarding world becomes more disjointed,” said Flitwick. “It will not be any easier to open the school after a year, or two, or even three. The school lives because wizards are united. Send the children away and there is no reason for the school to exist at all.”
Professor Slughorn plucked a piece of fudge from the open box and began opening the foil wrapper. “Well, there’s one student I wouldn’t mind sending away. It’s always the quiet ones with the best scores who are the most dangerous. You can’t tell what they’re thinking, and when they’re in my house, that’s never good. He’s coming back this year to finish up his N.E.W.T. examinations and heavens only knows what else.”
“Several of the students who otherwise would have graduated are returning for their exams and to provide assistance,” said Professor McGonagall, flicking her wand to lay out a number of letters on the table. “You should be grateful. They will provide a semblance of order among the other students.”
“Or a bunch of Weasleys' Wildfire Whiz-bangs dropped into the fireworks box,” countered Professor Slughorn before popping the chunk of fudge into his mouth and chewing with a very dissatisfied expression.
The rustling of envelope stuffing at the table stopped and Headmaster McGonagall picked up the stack of addressed letters, ready to be delivered to the Owlery and out to the students. That is all of the letters except for one, which had not found an envelope.
“Strange,” said Flitwick as he reached for the letter, only to pull his hand back and give a short nod to the headmistress. McGonagall scooped up the letter instead, giving it a short perusal and stopping at the name.
“Sweetie Belle? It’s spelled differently than Katie, so it could be a different family.” She passed the letter around the circle of teachers for each of them to examine, but all of them were just as baffled.
“The castle magic has never sent an incorrect letter,” said Flitwick. “Ever. Not since the founding of the school.”
They were all still puzzling over the errant acceptance letter when there was a flare of light and heat, and suddenly there were two phoenix sitting on Fawkes’ perch, one of which was slightly smaller and more colorful than the other. They exchanged a series of calls and clicking beaks, rubbed their necks together, then began to chirp and click back and forth like two old women who had not seen each other in weeks catching up on gossip.
“Oh, bloody hell,” said Slughorn. “There’s two of them.”
Flitwick picked up his wand and gave it a flick, causing an unnoticed letter to swoop up into the air from under the perch and land on the table in front of McGonagall, although all four teachers gave it a long and slightly disconcerted stare.
To: Headmaster, Hogwarts School for Witches and Wizards. Most urgent.
“I still feel like I’m reading somebody else’s mail,” muttered McGonagall while using her wand to open the envelope and remove the letter, keeping the rest of her comments to herself. There were quite a few sheets of thick paper inside, and as she finished one, she passed it along to the next head of house, until they all were engrossed in the reading.
“Preposterous,” scoffed Slughorn. “Most probably a prank from that Weasley fellow.”
“Doubtful,” said Professor McGonagall. She floated over a quill and settled down at the desk to write a response, under the assumption that the new phoenix ‘Philomena’ could be coaxed into returning a letter, if bribed with one of the Weasley Wizard Wheezes candies that Fawkes found so tasty. “If not, we may have found a solution for your Mister Nott. How would you feel about an exchange student in your classes.”
Slughorn merely frowned and grumbled. “In exchange for what kind scheming, plotting weasel?”
As a Hogwarts fan I am looking forward to this one.
I'm not a Harry Potter fan, but a crossover with a good writer behind it tends to work out pretty well in my experience.
That does look fairly interesting, yes. I think it is safe to say I am hyped.
Your writing is fantastic, and as Harry Potter is one of my foundational nerd-doms...I can't wait!
Oh this is looking glorious. I especially liked the intro. Cool and ominous!
And it's all in great-as-ever Georg style.
I await future developments eagerly.
Big fan of HP. Really looking forward to this.
Of course the castle is taking well to all those additional enchantments laid down by alumni. How many old dogs perk up when the kids return from college to visit?
Wait, so is Teddy Knott going to study in Equestria? This story gets better by the minute!
You know, I've read some MLP/HP crossovers before. Something occurs to me: Unicorn makes up the wand core of a lot of wands, right? A magic wand is the core, plus the wood. Have any unicorns in Equestria or at Hogwarts ever tried getting a Rowan or Ash cone that fits around their horn, in the hopes that it might amplify their magic?
4739769 You just need to watch out for what type of unicorn you get those hairs from.