《The Hogwarts Transfer》Chapter 10
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I'm not sure if it was the rigor of study at Hogwarts, but I lagged behind all the other students in marks and ability. I was one of the last three people in potions to finish whipping up an elementary elixir that Daphne's parents regularly produced (a simple cure for boils).
All of my classes carried that trend, with one exception.
The only class in which I was one of the top students was in Care of Magical Creatures.
During breakfast in the Great Hall, the owls all came flying in, and Benson delivered a letter from my grandpa. I gave him a treat that I had saved from Magical Creatures class, and he hoo'd in appreciation.
Opening up the letter, I immediately recognized my grandpa's handwriting.
Rollie,
My goodness, congratulations on becoming seeker! Know that your ancestors are singing your praise loudly! I'm so excited to come see your first game. When does Hufflepuff play? I can't wait! Give yourself a treat, do something fun, yes? You deserve it!
Regarding your inquiry on Zane, he has been a good friend of mine all my life. He was a Slytherin, and I was sorted into Ravenclaw, but we had some classes together when we were young, and we shared a similar sense of humor. As we grew up, we lost touch and started our own lives, but we would write letters to each other every once in a while, it was complicated staying in touch since we both married shortly after we graduated Hogwarts.
Zane took a job at Azkaban of all places and worked in their processing department. He's come in contact with some of the most dangerous criminals and dark witches and wizards you could think of, filling out their profiles for their paperwork and working in the communications department. I've never asked, but I believe he knows how to conduct those dreaded dementors. After they closed down Azkaban during that brief period after the Wizarding War, he retired and fought against the Death Eaters.
I hope that doesn't taint your perspective of him, but he's really a swell lad. Just a bit of a quiet fellow recently in life since, because much like me, his wife passed away.
Anyways, why the curiosity?
Have you made any friends yet? I know you love your British music, has it helped you meet others?
As always, great to hear from you. Have fun at Hogwarts, Rollie, take care.
Love, Grandpa.
"Rollie! Any word on Zane?" Bran asked.
"Here, check it out for yourselves," I handed them the letter.
Edna, Bran, and Daphne all took their turns reading it in the blink of an eye.
"Your grandpa seems like such a sweetheart," Edna smiled.
"By the way, it sounds like that book will be available next week, but I can't take it out of the library. Would you want to come with me when I check it out?"
"Do you think we'll even find anything?" I said.
Daphne shrugged. "Maybe he used to be in Azkaban before he started working there?"
"Worth a look," I agreed.
Later that evening I wrote back to my grandpa, explaining that I had a nightmare about Zane, even though that was a lie, I was truthful in admitting that Zane's demeanor and stoicism when I met him was unsettling. I also included the details of when the first Quidditch match was with Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff.
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On Saturday morning after breakfast, Daphne had a Quidditch meeting with Professor Sprout. Bran and Edna said they wanted to work on their homework right away, but I told them I couldn't start that until Sunday evening. Procrastination was when I handled my work motivation the best.
During that time, while everyone else was busy, I threw on my denim jacket, and took a stroll outside on the castle grounds, around the area of Hagrid's hut. Smoke billowed out from his little chimney, adding to the peaceful scenery. A layer of trees stood at the edge of the grounds, a reasonable distance before the Forbidden Forest began, one of the trees had buds that sat a little lower, so I took it as an opportunity to climb it, and nestle myself in the crook of two branches.
The tree's interior was spacious since the branches formed a ball, I laid on one edge, and across from me, I spotted a yellow spherical bird, I tried my bird whistle and held out my finger.
When I whistled, the bird glanced in my direction and hopped over a few branches, investigating me. After a gentle whistle, it fluttered up to me, landing directly on my finger. My heart skipped with delight.
It was a golden snidget.
I froze up, as the pudgy bird locked eye contact with me, tilting its head to the side.
I slipped into a memory back at Huntshrow, when I was out in the field by the castle, practicing my bird calls as I was out in the trees, around the same time last year. Farrah was so impressed.
My chest had that empty sinking feeling. I need to think about something else. This beautiful bird is in front of your face, and all you can think about is--
"We really shouldn't be out here going this deep," a familiar voice came from the Forbidden Forest.
"Oh hush up, will ya? Aren't you curious what's going on over there? What are they hiding?" a harsh voice replied.
Footsteps on the grass swished closer, and the golden snidget flew away out of the tree. The two of them were to my left, going back towards the castle.
"They're not hiding anything, you sound like a stupid git!"
"What did you call me?"
The footsteps halted. Peering through the leaves, I saw Oliver gripping his girlfriend Magdalene by the arm, glaring at her with fire in his eyes. Magdalene scowled back at him then dragged her eyes away, spotting me in the tree, her eyes widened.
"What? What're you looking at?" Oliver spun around and located me, he furrowed his brow. "What the hell are you doin' up there, yankee? Spying on people is rude here in England," Oliver dropped Magdalene's arm and picked up some nearby stones and hurled them at me.
His aim was terrific as rocks came directly at my face. I blocked it with my arm, but it knocked me off balance. He pelted another stone, and it was enough to toss me over the branch, as I plummeted, all I could hear was Oliver's howling laughter.
"Volitant!" Magdalene yelled, whipping out her wand, and then I hovered above the ground just as I was about to break my back. She lowered her wand, and I landed on the grass.
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Sitting up, I looked at her with my brow arched.
"What the hell ya lookin' at, yank?" Oliver marched over.
Magdalene clutched his hand and tugged him. "How could you do that?" she scolded, dragging him away.
"You're lucky she's here. You shouldn't spy on people, yank!" Oliver turned back around as his girlfriend hauled him along.
Magdalene stole one last glance back at me, with a look that said, "I'm so sorry."
I picked myself back up and watched them leave. As I stood there, the golden snidget from earlier flew up to my shoulder.
"Oh, hey, aren't you friendly," I smiled.
Just as I extended my arm for him to hop over to my hand, Hagrid stepped outside his hut with a watering can. He turned towards me and waved.
"Hello, Rollie, how are yeh--" he paused for a moment and gaped at the bird on my hand. "Me goodness, would yeh look at tha', a golden snidget! Amazing! Hold righ' there!"
Hagrid disappeared into his hut, as I sat there with the bird on my finger, perplexed. He came back out with a sizeable box-shaped object.
"I think yeh're supposed ter hold still, Rollie?" Hagrid held the clunky object up to his eye. "Sorry, I rarely use this thing, old Christmas gift. Still trying ter get the hang o' it," he smiled as he pressed the button, which released a blinding flash. "Okay, I think tha's good... When yeh're done stop by the hut, I have a special surprise I know yeh'll appreciate!"
The golden snidget flew off back into the trees, and as soon as it did, another bird flew on my finger, trading places, a smaller blackbird I didn't recognize. A strange purple aura emanated from the bird, like smoke.
"Rollie, tha' bird looks like it's bin cursed, be careful!" Hagrid shouted.
The dark bird stared at me for a second, as I heard a faint whisper coming from it.
"Rolliieeeeeeeeee..."
I tried shaking it off, but it tightened its talons around my finger, digging in the skin, pecking at my hand in rage, hungry for blood.
"Ah!" I screamed, stinging pain shot up through my arm. My mouth went dry as a desert.
I had no choice but to smack it off with my other hand, it flew away as if it was just an ordinary bird. I jogged over to Hagrid, who was already pacing towards me.
"Rollie, are yeh okay? Lemme see wha' happened ter your hand."
I pulled back the sleeve on my jacket, trails of red blood were running down my arm.
"Let's get yeh ter Madame Pompfrey, she'd be able ter help yeh better 'n I could."
"I don't know, I think I'll be okay. Can I get a glass of water first?"
"We should really get yeh ter Madame--"
"Please, Hagrid, let me just have a glass of water," I smiled, feeling the color draining from my face.
"All righ', one glass o' water, an' then yeh're goin' ter Madame Pompfrey!"
I sat at the table inside the cozy hut, Hagrid gave me a glass of water, and I chugged it down, I felt like I bought some time remaining conscious.
"Can I have another glass?"
“O' course," Hagrid filled it up with water again from a metal bucket and set it next to me as I nursed my bleeding hand. "Lemme show yeh quickly wha' I got since yeh're here."
Hagrid shuffled towards a black cloak draped over something in the corner. "Excuse me Fang," Hagrid reached over his sleeping dog on the ground for the cylindrical object. He brought it to the table and pulled off the cloak.
Underneath was a barred cage containing a small glowing statue. It was in the shape of a rabbit with antlers half the size of its body.
"I finally found one, after all me life searching fer one o' these, I've got it now," Hagrid marveled at it.
"What is it?" I asked.
"It's the silver jackalope. One o' the rarest magical creatures in existence."
"That thing is alive? Does it move?" I goggled at the majestic glow, it looked like a free-standing patronus.
"There isn' much known abou' the silver jackalope, except fer one thing, they like ter sit in one place. They don' really move."
"So, catching them must be pretty easy?"
"But good luck finding one, I wish I had, but Zita did. Deep in a cavern, far away from Hogwarts."
"Did you name it yet?"
“O' course, its name is Jolly."
"Can I pet it?"
"Sure, lemme jus open the latch here," Hagrid popped open the front of the cage.
Both of my hands were on the table, and just as I was leaning towards it, Jolly hopped gracefully to my damaged hand and started licking it.
With each lick, I felt my the stinging pain alleviate.
Hagrid was trying to form words, but instead, he sounded like a sputtering engine. When Jolly finished up, it returned back to its statue posture next to my arm.
I pulled back my hand and analyzed it. All the cuts from the bird had been sealed up as if the whole thing never happened. All pain disappeared.
"Hagrid, looks like I don't have to see Madame Pompfrey after all," I showed off my arm, and his jaw dropped.
"This is a breakthrough! Silver jackalope's have healing powers, or so it seems. Gosh, I'd love ter experiment," Hagrid turned around and opened up a cabinet and pulled out a knife.
He gave himself a small little cut on his knuckle and held it up to Jolly's face.
Jolly did not respond, the rabbit kept frozen stiff.
"Strange, it must really like yeh then," Hagrid scratched his chin.
"Are we going to study this more in class?'
"It's possible, but i'm goin' ter have ter talk ter Zita abou' it a little more, she's very wise, an' originally I hinted abou' it in class, but I shouldn' have, since we don' know much abou' it yet."
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The First Corridor of Old Works
But what is it, really? Old Works. They say, some do anyway, or would, if they still had tongues - it's a dream. That it's a million year old mystery connecting three planets. Some, yet other, anonymous entities, charge that it's a structure, more accurately, an architecture - a quest, even, made from, and through - corridors. Pretty inarguably, for one thing, it's a maze. Even some pronounce, if you can understand those currently vomiting blood, that it's a corporation, and yet others - the brave ones – and dead - say it's... near death. Or that it is. Death. - Death itself. But that dark thing on the horizon, that thing emerging to replace the only system we... know. - Whatever it is it couldn't be the end, of everything, could it? Eminently possible, but - it couldn't be worse? 3 civilisations/3 planets... and Old Works. 4 heroes: The Cyclops seeing out his Eye the reality of that place - and by means of that vision - greasing the many-toothed gears of that great old churning nightmare. The Writer sweating to keep the story alive that supports the great old lying structure. The Fake King who abides among all those tunnels of dreams and lies and dreams and... slaves. And the Hero Dreamt, all those slaves - to maintain that structure's even functioning, have to - at all... they dream him. They literally dream him. But that thing, from whence, who knows, arriving? What kind of sick demonic mind could even - But it can only be psychosis - Or possession. Reducing all of reality to some kind of – what would you call it? A Game? A video... joke? And that half-Cyclops, that beauty – what does she have growing – beneath her supernatural genitals? A game for him? A game/a dream; a – world? Or just Old Works. And this Wound in reality – that our writer near-died putting inside her. What is it anyway? And what reality does it bring with it. This demon or God. Through the corridors; lattices of smoke and shadows and colours; dungeons; and supernatural organs; the labyrinths made from dreams... and flesh. - What happens when they face that Wound – staring the absolute. right. in. them? - Through - What happens to all us... slaves... then? But at the end of the hallway, you see it there, I say you do, that turning - It's only the First Corridor of Old Works. This finished 104,000 word kind of LITRPGy fantasy novel, the First Corridor of Old Works will be released in daily 2000 word chapters, or equivalent [unfailingly at 20:47 GMT] Immediately followed by the Second Corridor of Old Works [161,000 words, edited, ongoing, as of 24/09/21] At first lite on stats these LITRPGy elements will become increasingly - built meticulously upon what precedes - ubiquitous, as we proceed into a world painstakingly built to support these mechanisms. After - minimum - 6 months, this manic daily release schedule will be somewhat relaxed: 5 days a week. - But don't lie to yourself it's not there. That thing watching at the end of the hallway... and where it leads. It's - Of countless, it could only be - The First Corridor of Old Works.
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High school could debatably be the hardest part of ones life, but for the students of Highcliff Highschool in Cambridge, Massachusetts, it became hell on one seemingly normal day. One that will change the course of their lives as their very dimension merges with another. How will the myriad of students and faculty survive in this new, strange, and dangerous situation? What decisions will they be forced to make to survive, and what will they end up becoming? Let's also not forget that the rest of the earth, and civilization as they know it is crumbling under the might of the newly formed dimension. They would need to act fast if they wish to keep any semblance of the home they once knew. ~~~~~~~~~~ Hello! I did it again! I made another weird one for you all to enjoy. However I just wanted to say as I'm sure you've heard multiple times, writing is a but a hobby of mine, so there is a chance I would need to drop this and focus on more important things in my life. Either way, this is going to be fun! ENJOY! XD P.S.S - Very Slow Start
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