So, here we are with chapters three and four of “Child of Grace.” Remember how I said it’s going to get worse before it gets better—and how it doesn’t get any better? Yeah. Keep that in mind, please.
Mervin: And here we are! I saw “we” because there are two of us this time. *menacingly* Right, Sands?
Sands: *dully* Whatever.
Mervin: I made him come along this time. He’ll be present for a while now. He’s behaving.
Sands: *takes off his clothes and gets comfortable*
Mervin: …mostly. I don’t know what he’s complaining about, really—this first part is going to be scripted.
Audience: *is thrown unceremoniously onto the Knight Bus*
Me: …how the hell did we get here? Last I saw, Hagrid was knocking on the door!
Holly: *calls Hagrid fat*
Me: *boils with rage*
Holly: Magic is totally real!
Flashback: *badly marked, as usual*
Holly: *answers the door* A giant! How unexpected!
Hagrid: I’m Hagrid!
Holly: *reads his mind for no reason other than to sense some confusion that is there also for no reason*
Hagrid: You look kind of like your “mom,” but you’ve got your dad’s hair!
Me: Oh, great—another one of those, “You’ve got James Potter’s hair.” This person has GOT to have read Rose Potter. Seriously!
Holly: I think it’s time I make mention that the Dursleys beat me again. Now’s as good a time as any! Holly, suddenly remembering the manners that the Dursleys had all but beaten into her, curtsied.
Hagrid: *comes in*
Vernon: Who is it! *bellows*
Holly: *doesn’t answer*
Vernon and Petunia: *are infuriated—both burst through the kitchen door and stomped up to their niece, violence and retribution written across their faces*
Me: *sighs* I’m really sick of this. I really am. How many times is the author going to bring it up until she realizes the audience doesn’t care?
Vernon: *bruises her wrist jerking her away from the door—somehow completely missing Hagrid*
Me: I guess she’s never gonna realize the audience doesn’t care. But how the hell do you miss Hagrid? HE’S HALF-GIANT.
Hagrid: *yells and points his umbrella*
Dursleys: *panic and leave*
Me: Well! That was sudden.
Hagrid: *steers Holly to the couch and sits her down* You’re a witch.
Holly: Oh boy!
Hagrid: You’re just like your parents.
Holly: *has a single tear*
Me: *throws up in disgusts* OH, YOU’VE MANAGED TO AVOID THE SINGLE TEAR OF DOOM™ UP UNTIL NOW. BUT NO, YOU COULDN’T RESIST IT. NO ANGSTY, EMO LITTLE IDIOT CAN RESIST THE SINGLE TEAR OF DOOM™. CLICHÉ STAMP #253,648 IS OFFICIALLY ON THIS FIC.
Holly: You knew my parents?
Hagrid: Oh yeah, I knew ‘em.
Holly: *has a random flashback about Voldemort killing her parents and has another epiphany*
Me: All right! You, sir! How about a shave?
Holly: My parents didn’t die in a car crash, did they?
Author: See? My character figured it out right away. That makes her better than Harry, and therefore more likeable.
Me: You know, there are more ways than one to be a “know-it-all.”
Hagrid: Bloody Muggles. They told you that, didn’t they? *is angry*
Holly: In her experience, no good came from angry adults.
Me: *silently fumes—if there is one more mention, will destroy Tokyo again*
Holly: *breathed out slowly; she might as well tell the truth. Oftentimes, it hurt far less to do so*
Me: *promptly destroys downtown Tokyo*
Hagrid: *without being asked about Voldemort, promptly launches into a very truncated, very short, very inadequate explanation of Voldemort*
Canon: *entire Voldemort story is summarized into a single sentence*
Holly: *eyes glistening with unshed tears* That’s horrible.
Me: Isn’t it, though? Oh, wait, you mean that particular story, not the fic itself. Never mind.
Hagrid: *proceeded to tell Holly all about Hogwarts or rather a summarised version there of: four houses, Dumbledore as the headmaster, classes, professors, and more*
Me: See what I meant at the first of the prologue when she said she was paraphrasing stuff?
Hagrid: So, you coming?
Flashback: *as per usual, ends badly*
Me: What’s the point of all these flashbacks? Why not tell them as is, instead of in flashback form? What’s the reasoning behind turning it into a flashback, when it would’ve worked perfectly well as the intro to the chapter?
Mervin: *pokes Sands*
Sands: *jerks awake* Mmm?
Mervin: You weren’t paying a bit of attention to that script, were you?
Sands: Here, lemme think about it—no.
Mervin: *sighs* Here we go.
Another loud bang brought Holly out of her reverie.
Sands: *loads another shell into his shotgun* Don’t worry—this time, I won’t miss.
“Ah, finally,” Hagrid mumbled, a look of pure nausea crossing his face.
Sands: I hope it used the traffic signal.
“I hate travellin’ like this.”
Mervin: Well, I hate reading this—it’s annoying.
Both giant and child stood, one lumbering to his feet and the other gracefully unfolding herself.
Mervin: Especially stuff like that. Unnecessary insertions to show just how awesome her character is. The big things make her a big Sue, but the little things make her an even bigger Sue.
Hagrid staggered off the bus and onto a crowded sidewalk, Holly following in his wake. The man leaned on the pink umbrella still clutched tightly in his fist.
Sands: How the hell is he leaning on that umbrella? It’s tiny!
Holly simply raised both eyebrows,
Mervin: —for no reason—
studying her surroundings.
They were on a bustling and busy street, filled with ever moving people.
Sands: Then Holly noticed that they were all carrying sporks and eyeing her rather suspiciously.
Still, no one seemed to notice the triple-decker bus. None of the hurrying people seemed to see the shabby looking pub Holly and Hagrid stood in front of either.
Mervin: No dashes, no commas—gad, that hurts me.
It was almost as if the eyes of the passers-by slid from the record shop on one side to the bookstore on the other.
Mervin: Hmm—Sands, do you think people’s eyes are sliding from the record shop on one side to the bookstore on the other?
Sands: Nah. Couldn’t be.
Nevertheless, while what she saw did not openly appear magical, Holly remained silent. She kept her concerns to herself as she studied the sign, which hung precariously above the door. She knew that appearances could be deceiving. For all she knew, The Leaky Cauldron could be a portal to some magical world.
Mervin: (Author): See how much better Holly is than Harry?
Sands: You know, little jabs like that piss me the hell off. It’s really irritating to have to hear constant, constant repetition of the author having her precious OC doing the opposite of what Harry did. Well, you know what? Harry’s confusion and questioning of the things he was seeing made him real. Nobody, especially someone told their whole life that it wasn’t real, would just automatically fit right in and accept every little thing about magic if it was suddenly dumped on them in a huge info dump like it was here. It simply isn’t possible—human beings don’t work that way.
Mervin: Quite a diatribe from you, Sands.
Sands: I just wanna get this over with, so I’m being cooperative.
Hagrid gulped heavily and lumbered to the door of the pub. “We haf to go in here to get to Diagon Alley.” He paused, noting her confusion. “Diagon Alley… it’s where we buy yer school stuff.”
Mervin: I shall now say one good thing about this author—she appears to have a pretty good grasp of Hagrid’s accent.
Holly simply nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She stepped up behind Hagrid in order to follow him inside.
Hagrid again hesitated.
“Remember what I told yeh?” he asked gently, his skin quickly losing its green tints. “About yer fame,” he added. “Well, I reckon some folks are likely ter mob yeh when yeh get inside.”
Mervin: She does not, however, have a good grasp of his character. As much as I love Hagrid, he’s got his flaws—one of them being that he doesn’t really think ahead too much. So stop correcting his flaws, too, so your character can have an easier time of it. Dammit.
Of course, Hagrid was quite correct.
Sands: I’m curious—you said this author has obviously read Rose Potter. Will she take the Rose Potter, “Oh, how do I hold up?” routine, or will she go the, “Oh, I love my fame!” routine?
Mervin: I’m not sure. Too early to tell.
Everything started out quietly enough. The girl and the giant entered the establishment, greeting the owner.
The bald man grinned at them, showing them his toothless mouth.
Mervin: See, that’s how Harry describes people—he finds the negative or really noticeable traits first—and that also applies when describing himself. Coming from people like this, however, it’s arrogant, because she’s always describing herself in flattering terms. That’s why I hate people who do Girl-Who-Lived stories. They never do it properly.
“The usual, Hagrid?”
“Can’t, Tom. I’m on Hogwarts business,” Hagrid answered smoothly.
Sands: A word that should never be used to describe Hagrid. Hagrid ain’t Snape, sweetpea.
He gently placed an enormous hand on Holly’s shoulder.
“Great Maker,” Tom whispered, peering at her.
Mervin: Great Maker? What the hell is that? *wary* If she throws in Druids or some such crap as that…
Sands: She probably will. Have to make sure she’s ten times better than Harry, after all!
“Is this… can this be… bless my soul, Holly Potter!” he exclaimed suddenly, causing several people to glance up from their meals.
Dozens of eyes travelled instantly to the now very excited owner. Upon noticing the dark-haired girl with a lightening bolt scar, the patrons of the Leaky Caldron gaped for a moment. And immediately after recovering, they descended her.
Mervin: —into a well and left her there to die. Everyone was much happier for it.
After many vigorous handshakes, where one man kept coming back for more, back pats, and awed introductions, Holly finally made headway to the rear
Mervin: Oh, so mature, Sands.
Sands: Who said I was mature?
of the Leaky Cauldron and the entrance to Diagon Alley. But there was one more obstacle in her way, a stuttering man.
Mervin: Sands, brace yourself.
Mervin: Remember how obvious it was that Rose Potter had read ahead?
Mervin: It’s even more obvious with this chick.
He was young looking, maybe in his late twenties, with exceptionally pasty skin. His dark eyes gleamed peculiarly under the purple turban perched atop his head, studying her intently, as if searching for some hidden weakness.
Mervin: See what I mean?
Sands: You know, if JK had gone this route, there would’ve been no mystery. The story would’ve been very boring. As such, this story is now boring. Oh, you can argue all you like that it would’ve been boring anyway, because the readers already know it’s Quirrell, but hell, where’s the mystery for the characters if you completely ruin it like this? There is none.
Apparently, he was a teacher at Hogwarts, a Professor Quirrell.
Sands: As opposed to a Professor Snape, the preferable species of teacher.
Holly faked a smile as he introduced himself. There was a feeling of malice deep under the surface, faint and almost unperceivable but still present.
Mervin: I hate “I’ve read ahead” syndrome. I hate Sues who can tag all the bad guys right off simply because the author knows who’s bad and who isn’t. I really do.
She ghosted his thoughts, only receiving the image of a blank wall for her efforts and the pervading sense of malevolence.
Sands: Oh, look—she gets a brownie point for having her precious mind-reading skills not being able to penetrate the mind of an Occlumens. Maybe, anyway—it all depends on what she does with Snape and Dumbledore.
Holly fought the urge to shudder.
Mervin: I’m sure not. I can’t help but shudder when I look at this fic.
Sure, he stuttered and simpered, but to Holly, it all seemed a façade… an act. There was some strange and lingering feeling of cruelty, a deep hatred that did belong with the simpering man on the outside.
Sands: (Author): *hides her book* Holly’s just intuitive! It isn’t that I’ve already read it and know that Quirrell is the bad guy!
Hagrid exchanged pleasantries with the professor for a moment before leading Holly to the back of the pub and a blank, brick wall.
Mervin: Which appropriately describes what it would be like if I were to, say, argue with the author about how her fic stinks and she needs to start over.
He happily lifted his umbrella and tapped a pattern onto the wall, which she studied and committed to memory.
Sands: Because she’s cooler and better than Harry.
The final brick disappeared, vanishing into thin air. The others magically began to pull away from the spot, forming an entranceway large enough for even Hagrid to easily pass through.
“Welcome to Diagon Alley,” he stated with his widest grin yet. Hagrid noted Holly’s look of pure awe,
Mervin: I have noticed a lot of “pure (insert look)” in this chapter.
try as she might to conceal it,
Sands: And why would you want to conceal it? And if you even think about bringing up that it’s because you were abused, I will kill you.
and patted her on the back as he gently led her through the gateway.
Sands: She should be face-down on the ground right now—if Harry was nearly bowled-over by a pat on the back from Hagrid, then this skin-and-bones replacement wouldn’t stand a chance of keeping on her feet.
Yet, even as she stepped through the doorway and into Diagon Alley, Holly could feel eyes boring into her back.
Mervin: And hopefully, they’ll poke holes in her and let all the sap run out. Then she’ll die, because surely she can’t survive without all her sappy angst.
The perilous feeling from earlier remained.
Mervin and Sands: DUN DUN DUN!!!!
AN: I know that it is a little short on the descriptions of Hogwarts and Voldemort, but I figured that you already knew all about the subjects, so they were only briefly mentioned.
Mervin: That’s all good and nice, except you forget one VERY important thing, Miss Suethor. Sands, can you tell me what it is she forgot?
Sands: I sure can. SHE FORGOT THAT WHILE THE AUDIENCE KNOWS ALL ABOUT IT, HER STUPID LITTLE OC DOESN’T.
Mervin: Very good, Sands, ten points to Slytherin.
Sands: I try.
Mervin: Anyway, to further elaborate on that, no, her character doesn’t know anything about it—and now she still doesn’t, but is going to go on like she does. This author should think of her audience, yes, but she should also think of her characters. They have to know these things—and as boring as it would be, as much as we’d already know what Hagrid was talking about, it needs to be said so that the CHARACTER is informed—and that shitty piece of exposition was absolutely nothing for what she needed, as well as being completely random and jumping around like a frog in the dynamite pond.
Sands: HAH! *pwns Mervin with his trusty two-by-four*
Mervin: Sorry, but that crossover line was appropriate, and I’m not in that movie, so I can do whatever I want. *whacks him in the kneecap with a seven iron*
And here we go, straight into chapter four! My apologies now if there is very little to no sporking—it’s a particularly awful chapter, with long and boring and drawn-out descriptions of things we don’t care about and very little canon actually in it and some nice subtle hints at Dumbledore!bashing to come and some not-so-subtle hints of Slytherin!glorifying. So, onwards to the script!
Holly: Oh, it’s simply magical!
Me: Ain’t that original.
Holly: *green eyes were constantly flicking, side to side, up and down, as she tried to take in all of the sights. Her lips seemed to be frozen into a perpetual smile, but her mouth was also constantly twitching since it was taking ever ounce of self-control she possessed to keep her jaw from hanging open. However, she continued to exert the effort; she did not want to appear the fool in front of the denizens of her new world*
Me: Oh yes. You took your fame in stride, little girl, and it’s already gone to your head. How nice to see. Oh, and that was a badly disguised jab at Harry as well, which pisses me off. How nice indeed.
Holly: Even though this is all great and wonderful, I cannot go for more than two minutes without a “woe is me” comment, so, here we go. Oh, woe is me! The mental voices of everybody in Diagon Alley are almost too much for me! Insert long and detailed description of how I taught myself how to control the ability because I’m that awesome. I have to exert all control over my totally awesome powers to filter all the sound out. I’m just that good, though. Don’t you love me more than Harry?
Holly: Where are we going?
Hagrid: Gringotts, to get money. And don’t worry, you have a vault.
Holly: *all this time, while she was half-starving and forced to wear clothing that was falling apart, she had had money. Her fingers were now gripping her skirt so hard that her knuckles turned white. A sudden, swift feeling arose within her, not unlike a cold fury, but it was quickly quenched as an idea came to mind*
Me: You know, Harry didn’t react with rage. Oh, that’s right—because the Dursleys WEREN’T half-starving him! They mistreated him, but they weren’t BEATING HIM CONSTANTLY AND REFUSING TO LET HIM EAT AT THE TABLE LIKE SOME KIND OF ANIMAL. My apologies. Oh yes, and I love the nod to Rose Potter there. This is so much fun, seeing all the similarities. Should I review, I will definitely ask if you have heard of her.
Holly: *eyes gleam enchantingly*
Me: Not unlike Tom Riddle’s, I imagine.
Holly: Can we buy some things not on the list? I’ll need clothes and OTHER books for school. *emerald eyes were nearly glowing*
Me: Stop with those stupid insertions to talk about how lovely your character is! I hate that! No one can see their own eyes to be able to describe them!!
Holly: *reads the first two lines of the inscription*
Me: What’s going on?
Holly: *a bizarre feeling rose within Holly, stopping her from reading the rest. She shook her head forcefully, whipping her two braids through the air. Something deep within her was telling Holly to not continue*
Me: You know, this is the section time I’ve seen this done—once in Halcyon’s fic, and now here. What is the deal?
Holly: Eww, the goblins are ugly!
Canon: *entire vault scene is summarized into one sentence and then we are launched headfirst back into the outdoors*
Me: *is dizzy from all the summarizing*
Holly: How come Hagrid didn’t notice my state of dress? He should, dammit, and he should also ask me about it so I can launch into a very angsty, “woe is me” tale of how I was only given hand-me-downs and have been forced to wear clothes I don’t like for my entire life!
Holly: I need to go purchase new clothing. Can I? *for some reason, is inwardly smirking as if she’s pulling some kind of fast one over Hagrid*
Me: I’m really, really confused about her inner smugness. It makes no sense—I guess she’s being smug just to be smug. Now that she’s found out she’s famous, I guess she’s going to indulge in it every chance she gets.
Hagrid: Here, you go on in, I need something to drink. Meet me at Flourish and Blotts.
Holly: I “acquiesce graciously.”
Me: And I’m disinclined to acquiesce to your flowery writing and your arrogance.
Madame Malkin: *greets her sedately*
Holly: Clearly, she was not aware who she was waiting upon.
Well! Rose Potter, you officially have to eat your heart out. I don’t think Rose ever pulled the, “Do you know who you’re talking to?” routine so…so blatantly!
Holly: *taking all her lessons from the Dursleys in respect to authority figures to heart, she bowed her head courteously*
Me: WILL YOU PLEASE LEAVE THAT ALONE? I’M GETTING TIRED OF IT.
Madame Malkin: I assume you want other clothes, too.
Holly: Oh, this’ll be easier than I thought!
Me: And why the hell would it be hard? Oh, if this is more of her, “Oh, I am so afraid of adults because I was abused” crap spewing up out of the asshole she calls her mouth, I’m gonna kill her. And I will do it!
Holly: *merely nods to Draco Malfoy*
Draco: *is very polite and smiles back*
Author: *HINT HINT*
Me: *is bored*
Story: *takes a turn for the boring—at least half a page of describing all the things she buys, including a nonsense turn to describe her underwear (Hello, Rose Potter!), and how lovely it all is, and how she buys things to match her lovely eyes, and receives compliments from Madame Malkin, and by the end of it, we all just want to tear our eyes out*
Holly: And here I am, two hours later, wearing an awesome dress! Suddenly, I sense a familiar presence! Who could it be?
Nameless Person: *walks like some kind of cowed person down the street*
Me: Great—she’s angstifying him, too.
Holly: I instantly know what to say. Moony!
Remus: *shock, gasp*
Story: *goes completely nonsensical and the dialogue makes no sense whatsoever until we finally arrive at recognition*
Remus: You’re Holly Potter, aren’t you? *is in awe*
Holly: *drinks it all in* I’ll read his mind! *reads his mind*
Remus’s Mind: I was told to avoid her like the plague and stay away, what do I do? *hints at some traumatic past life experience of Holly’s involving him*
Dialogue: *clunky and embarrassing*
Remus’s Mind: Surely she’s with McGonagall or Flitwick.
Holly: How suspicious! I am here with Hagrid, not them! But I say nothing.
Remus’s Mind: *hints that he knows she was left with the Dursleys*
Holly: Gasp! How does he know that? Oh, Hagrid is coming!
Remus: I cannot be seen with her! Listen, can I write to you? *pitifully* And you can write back, if you want…
Me: My GOD. Who is this pussy little lickspittle and what has he done with Remus Lupin?
Holly: BE AMAZED, audience, by my remarkable calm. Yes, I’d love to. And somehow, I know he knew my parents.
Remus: *calls her “pup”*
Me: Oh, look—that particular cliché. Where would we be without it? And I tend to think that someone treated like a dog all her life would be quite offended to be actually called a dog, don’t you?
Holly: Imagine the odds, imagine the odds of running into him on my very first trip to Diagon Alley. Must be fate.
Me: Or the author, your choice.
Hagrid: Let’s go get your books!
Holly: And this is now the most “exhilarating experience of my young life!”
Me: A bookstore. After all you’ve seen in Diagon Alley, all that has happened…the bookstore is what impresses you the most. I just know this is somehow another jab at Harry.
Holly: I’m going to pick up as many books as I can, simply because I can, and because it makes me better than Harry. I even ask about second-year texts, I’m that much cooler than Harry. Love me. LOOOOOOOVE MEEEEEEEE.
Holly: *very, very long descriptions of all the awesome books she’s getting, and how much better she is than Harry for getting them, including books by all the teachers*
Me: …the teachers of Hogwarts, save maybe Dumbledore, never wrote books, and certainly not Snape. I know exactly where this is going—this is somehow going to lead to Half-Blood Prince, when you eventually start cribbing from it, and how you recognize who it is immediately. I just know it.
Holly: *naturally has to get Curses and Counter Curses, because what Sue would be without it?*
Me: I see that in every fic that is a Girl-Who-Lived. Invariably, they pick up that book. What is WITH that book? People treat it like it’s some kind of Holy Grail!
Holly: Even though I have a ton of books that I have no possible way of taking with me to Hogwarts, I am still not satisfied! I need more books! *collects more books*
Me: This is becoming very tedious.
Holly: Time to show off how modest I am. I don’t even think about getting any books on me. I’m that modest.
Me: Yes, you’re so modest you felt the need to mention it. It didn’t even cross Harry’s mind that there might be books about him out there.
Holly: *stumbles across two people*
Me: Oh boy. Brace yourselves.
Holly: Fortunately for me, I have fast reflexes and sidestep.
Me: It’s Rose again! She just keeps coming up!
Two People: *size her up in a most unpleasant manner*
Me: I don’t think the author meant to imply that the two people are about to molest her, right then and there.
Mystery Man: I’m Blaise Zabini and I am charmingly polite and not at all stuck-up as in canon. This is my cousin, and she has the nice Sue name of Aléjandra Zabini-Rookwood.
Aléjandra: Please call me Alé.
Blaise: Please note that I am not “black.” I am “caramel-colored.”
Me: She gets no pass—even though this was written pre-HBP, she’s gone back and edited things.
Holly: *shakes with the girl* Gasp! A tingle when I shake her hands! Whatever could it mean?
Blaise and Alé: We are honest and sincere in our desire to greet you, because we’re OOC.
Holly: I’m Holly Potter.
Blaise and Alé: *don’t look at her scar* We’re that awesome, you know, to not look at your scar, unlike SOME people will later in the story.
Me: I’d like to know why they didn’t look at her scar. The author never explains it, other than with her blanket statement of “Slytherins are more awesome than anybody else in the story.”
Blaise: Well, it’s a pleasure! *shakes her hand*
Holly: More gasp! It’s more like an electric jolt with Blaise! And it lingers!
Blaise: I notice it too, but say nothing.
Holly: I wonder if this’ll happen every time I shake somebody’s hand who is magical! Oh, I love talking with Blaise, he loves books, too! *and they promptly start discussing Shakespeare’s hidden meanings*
Me: …they’re ELEVEN. *sigh* Rose Potter.
Alé: I’m a Third-Year Ravenclaw. You and Blaise are Ravenclaw material!
Blaise: Oh, I’m a prankster, so I may be Slytherin material.
Me: So much for that whole “ambition” thing. No, being a goofball is enough to get you in.
Blaise: I could always be in Hufflepuff, too!
Me: Look, Blaise was decidedly Slytherin. We learned that in HBP. You should know this by now.
Holly: I’ll bet you missed some “woe is me,” didn’t you? Well, I’m happy to oblige! Throughout the entire exchange, Holly had watched with growing amusement and happiness. She had never before been spoken to like this, like she was both an equal and a friend. Not like she was a worthless freak.
Me: *tears off her own head in an effort to ease the pain*
Holly: What about Gryffindor?
Alé: Not all Gryffindors are bad—see how unprejudiced I am? I’m friends with one Alicia Spinnet. And the Weasley twins are surely Slytherins, what with all their prank shenanigans!
Me: BEING A PRANKSTER DOES NOT MAKE YOU A SLYTHERIN.
Alé: Oh yes, and the Sorting Hat tells you which House to go to.
Holly: Please tell me about the four Houses!
Conversation: *is summarized into a single sentence, as per usual*
Blaise: Oh, look, it’s Draco!
Draco: *comes around the corner*
Holly: *for some weird reason, sizes him up* I’m Holly Potter.
Draco: I also do not look at your forehead, despite the fact that in canon, I came back to see you strictly because your famous and gawked at your forehead.
Me: Look, you can spout your “Slytherins are misunderstood” crap all you want, but Draco was most assuredly NOT misunderstood. From start to finish, he was an icky little twerp who didn’t receive enough spankings when he was younger. So don’t make him out to be some kind of polite person—because he was not only an icky little twerp, but he was also rude as hell.
Hagrid: *jerks her away from the crowd* I now spout my prejudices against Slytherin.
Me: Here’s the paragraph on her thoughts about Draco Malfoy.
Holly listened intently, mentally disagreeing but not voicing her doubts. Although she had been around Draco for mere seconds, she had still managed to adequately get his measure, and she was not the least bit wary of him, in spite of Hagrid’s worries. She had felt nothing but sincerity at their meeting. Holly honestly felt that, while it wise to be wary of his parents due to their past association with Voldemort, Draco Malfoy would make an excellent acquaintance and possibly, and quite hopefully, a friend.
I already stated that Draco Malfoy was not a “misunderstood Slytherin.” I’m tempted to repeat, it, but I won’t. I’m not like this Suethor.
Hagrid: *presents her with Hedwig*
Holly: *is appropriately thankful*
Me: Now I think I’ve gone long enough without sporking. Here’s the Ollivander scene.
Holly entered the dusty and dark store uneasily, warning bells going off in her head.
Because she’s paranoid, apparently.
She approached the counter carefully but whirled around as she felt another mind coming up behind her.
I’m beginning to hate that little ability of hers, because I’m tired of her lording it over us to show how superior she is to Harry.
This seemed to startle the old man, who was now standing directly in front of the girl, and his whitish-silver eyes narrowed.
I still can’t figure out what POV this is told from, you know. Third Person Limited, or Third Person Omniscient.
“Hello,” Holly stated, bowing her head faintly.
And STOP DOING THAT.
“Are you Mr. Ollivander?” she asked, remembering the name on the outside of the store.
Unlike that buttmunch, Harry.
“Ah, yes. Yes, I am.” He was clearly impressed by the fact that he had not been able to sneak up on her
Well, naturally—and if he wasn’t impressed, she would remind him to be.
And I doubt Ollivander purposely goes about sneaking up on people.
and gazed at her forehead for a second.
Ollivander will look at her forehead, but Draco Malfoy, the boy obsessed with fame and fortune, won’t. Yeeeeeaaaaaaaaaah. Right.
“And you must be Miss Potter. I thought that I would be seeing you soon.” His odd smile widened.
My tolerance for this fic did not.
“You have your mother’s eyes. It seems like only yesterday that she was in here, buying her first wand. Ten-and-a-quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow.
(Holly): Willow—what an excellent way to describe my nubile young body!
Sorry—Rose Potter corrupted me, and these two are so similar that it works.
Nice wand for charm work.”
Mr. Ollivander again glanced at Holly’s forehead, his thoughts of Voldemort and the wand he had sold him.
Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew and very powerful.
As opposed to just SAYING it as in canon. Because it’s much cooler to have her read his mind, because it makes her look much better than Harry.
He shook the thought from his head and continued, telling her of both her father’s and Hagrid’s wands. That embarrassed the giant and caused him to clutch his pink umbrella more firmly.
And thus summarizing canon into a single sentence, because she thinks the audience doesn’t need to know. I’m not sure which is worse—this version of canon or Rose Potter’s version of canon.
From there, Mr. Ollivander asked about her wand arm, her right.
Well, at least she has that—
Holly did know how to write with her left due to a broken right wrist, courtesy of one Dudley Dursley, a few years back.
…never mind. That’s worse than Rose’s version, because it’s GODDAMNED MORE ANGST.
The older man then began to measure her: from shoulder to finger, wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit, round her head, etc. and describe the various attributes of Ollivander wands.
No mention that it’s doing it by itself, and none of the funny from it, either.
He pulled various wands off the shelf, giving them to the girl with an order to, “Give it a wave.”
After dozens of attempts, Holly was beginning to show inward, but not outward, signs of annoyance.
I’m showing serious signs of outward annoyance at the moment, bitch. Believe me.
‘Surely,’ she thought rather harshly, ‘there must be a better way to do this. A spell perhaps?’
Oh. You just got to the wizarding world and you immediately know all the superior ways to run it. Oh. Isn’t that great.
She opened her mouth and actually voiced this idea to Mr. Ollivander, giving him another surprise and earning herself a shrewd, calculating look.
(Ollivander): My God—I never expected the Girl-Who-Lived to be so impertinent.
The older man smiled at her suggestion. He pointed his wand at her and quickly muttered several words, which Holly still managed to hear.
“Accio Magum Adaequo.”
For a second, I read “magnum” and was hoping he was Summoning a gun.
On a distant shelf, a dusty box flew open, and a shiny wand shot out.
And it was a magical dildo! As it turned out, our Sue was a Tootsitramp in disguise.
Speaking of Suewarts Houses, I can’t figure out which house she belongs in.
It flew through the air and landed neatly in Mr. Ollivander’s outstretched hand. His grin increased ten-fold as he studied the wand in his hand.
So, basically, you’re telling me that he goes through the entire wand process for shits and giggles. So he can annoy people.
“Unusual combination – holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple,” he told Holly proudly as he handed it to her.
“Holly, you say,” she stated, emphasising the word that was both her name and the material of the wand.
And why was it needed to be emphasized? Do you think it makes you speshuler? Because it doesn’t.
Holly reached forward and grasped the wand… and wonderful warmth filled her as she touched it. The constant hum of voices in her head faded to silence as the most magnificent melody entered her mind.
It was the Anvil Chorus.
Magic rose up inside of her, and she felt it coursing through her veins. She waved the wand gracefully,
As opposed to that braindead bug Harry, who just swished it.
shooting out three differing coloured sparks: gold, silver, and odd crystal-like ones that changed colour as the strange lighting of the store hit them.
Oh boy. I can’t wait to find out how the Suethor explains that.
Both Hagrid and Mr. Ollivander seemed shocked into silence: Hagrid from the entire spectacle of casting a spell to find her a wand and Mr. Ollivander by the sparks she had created.
What Sue would be complete without shocking people into silence with her awesomeness? Certainly not this one.
After several moments, in which the girl merrily but rather sedately scrutinised her new wand, Mr. Ollivander finally found his voice.
You know, she hasn’t been freed from her evil tormenters but a day and she’s already the smug bitch that Rose Potter was.
“Curious. Curious...” Seeing her unvoiced question, he went on, “I remember every wand I’ve ever sold, Miss Potter. Every single wand.” He paused and gave her a very pointed look.
(Ollivander): I’ll gladly forget you, though.
“It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather. Just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother – why, its brother gave you that scar.”
Emerald eyes gazed at him in half-wonder, half-wariness before returning to her wand. “That is rather curious, Mr. Ollivander,” Holly acquiesced evenly after several moments.
I’m sick of her evenly acquiescing to everything. It’s very irritating and reminds me even more of Rose Potter. How many times is this person going to remind me of Rose Potter before I just stamp her as the new Rose Potter, I wonder?
Soon after the interesting encounter,
Yes, it’s interesting.
she paid seven Galleons for her wand and was led out of the store and down the street.
Even days afterward she would still remember the odd look on Mr. Ollivander’s face as he watched her leave. Those silvery, mist eyes studied her, as though he knew something very important.
Little did she know that the first thing he was doing after that was calling the PPC.
Something that try as she might, Holly could not glean from his surface thoughts.
Then how did she read his mind in the first place?!
*sets the sirens blowing* ANGST ALERT!!! ANGST ALERT!!! ANGST ALERT!!! EVERYONE GET INTO THEIR SAFE ROOMS!!!
Holly laid in the creaky bed of her new bedroom. Upon returning from her first foray into the wizarding world, Hagrid had taken the Dursleys aside and set a few ground rules for the family. The girl was not entirely sure what the talking to had entailed, Hagrid not letting her attend, but whatever had occurred, the Dursleys were now sufficiently cowed. They would not be bothering her anytime soon.
Her eyes sparkled as Holly gazed around the room. Formally Dudley’s second bedroom, it was now her room.
“My room,” she whispered to the shadows, beaming. She had never truly had a bedroom before; the cupboard under the stairs definitely did not count.
“Come to think of it,” she mused softly, “I haven’t really had much of anything before. Not many clothes, no books… I’ve never really owned anything,” she added wistfully, “except…”
A hand travel to her neck and the thin, metallic chain encircling it. She gently lifted a locket to her eyes, and her fingers smoothed over the exterior, opening it. Holly gazed longingly at the happy faces within as her finger ran across the exposed surface, caressing their faces.
Green eyes blinked sharply, fighting back tears.
*snip the end, which includes a lame poem on the back of her locket*
All clear. And does anyone else find it annoying that, once she finds out she now has her own room, new freedoms, her own possessions, is a magical being, has a fortune, etc., etc., the first thing she does is ANGST ABOUT IT?
Accio Magum Adaequo: Come Magical Match. Verbal and non-verbal. Summons a wand to match the magical core of a person.
Something that I truly doubt is possible.
AN: I know the whole Blaise and Draco as Harry’s – or in this case, Holly’s – friends has been done before, but I am still going to use them as characters.
I see. You admit it’s cliché, but you just don’t care. I wonder what else you acknowledge is cliché but don’t care about.
Since so much about both of them is unknown, I can basically characterise them anyway I want.
No. No, you can’t. I mean, you really can’t. That really rubs me the really really really wrong way. She just flat out said, “I can do what I want, bitches.” Well, guess what? We know PLENTY about Draco. We know he’s a prejudiced little snot, we know his father is a loyal Death Eater at least up until DH, and we know Draco supports the Death Eater cause (but is too much of a wiener to actually walk the walk). Draco is established as an antagonist. That doesn’t make him misunderstood—that makes him an antagonist.
And NO, YOU MAY NOT CHARACTERIZE PEOPLE HOW YOU WANT, ESPECIALLY IF THEY’RE CHARACTERIZATIONS ARE ALREADY ESTABLISHED IN CANON!!!! DON’T YOU DARE SAY YOU CAN DO WHATEVER THE FUCK YOU WANT WITH SOMEBODY ELSE’S CANON!!!!!!
This way Holly has friends who aren’t OCs. I intend to also do this with other obscure canon characters.
So, I’m guessing that Ron and Hermione can just go take a long walk off a short pier. Oh, goodie! I’m so excited! *heaves*
Also, I threw Remus in here because I didn’t want Holly to wait to the third book to meet him.
Well, you sure did just throw him in here. His appearance was totally random, here and there and then gone and extremely out of place. It was poorly done—in all likelihood because while you can crib and summarize from canon until the cow’s come home, the mere thought of writing something original curdles your guts—oh, hey! It’s Rose Potter!
Diagon Alley seemed the perfect place to toss him into the story.
I maintain that it is entirely possible that Remus was actually there in canon during Harry’s first trip, but Harry either didn’t see him or Hagrid steered him away.
Did anyone ever think that Remus didn’t tell Harry anything about Sirius because the subject was very painful to him, believing that one of his very best friends murdered three others of his? Or that maybe no, he wasn’t there, because his type are not very welcome in the mainstream Wizarding World?
Still, it is possible but very doubtful.
So why’d you do it if it’s so friggin’ doubtful?!