FicWad

Author's Notes: Wow, ten pages on my laptop, hopefully this'll make up for the wait. Also, for those of you disappointed that Harry and Luna didn't "get it on" again in the last chapter, good news! No, they don't have sex in this chapter either, but if you skip down to the end, you'll find . . . well, head over to Fanfiction.net if you don't want to read "graphic" materials.

One last thing: In Son of a Snake, I made the offer that if enough people asked me to identify who would have what position in Harry 's harem, I would post it in a list in the Author's notes (I only got one 'yes," so I haven't). This was after I made a similar offer to identify all the ladies in question (which I've mostly done already for this story). So, now I'm making to same offer to you guys: If enough of you request it in the Reviews, I'll post the list.

Now, on with the show!
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The Black Lake; Hogwarts; North of Hogsmeade, Scotland; Earth 1; September 12, 1995; 10:22a.m.

"Good morning, Hermione," Luna called, walking up towards her and Harry.

Hermione herself responded with a curt, "Good morning, Luna," but, considering she had been near crying the night before, Harry took it as a good sign. He gave his bushy-haired friend more points because she was being polite after Luna had surprised her; it looked like sneaking up on people was his consort's normal greeting.

After he had confessed to Hermione that Luna knew what was going on, they hadn't spoken for the rest of the night. Then, when Harry walked down the stairs of his room, Hermione had been standing outside the door, waiting for him. "We need to speak with Luna," she'd said.

When Harry had, naturally, failed to understand, she explained, "I-we need to understand how she knows what she knows, and how much she knows that we don't. And, besides . . ." Hermione bit her lip. "It would be better if we all work together, don't you think?"

All work together . . . those three words were like a spell designed to send Harry's insides into chaos. There was the joy at finally being open with Hermione—of all three of them being together, fear that they might drive her away, and the hope that—in spite of everything—she would believe them and would . . . love him like he loved her.

Now was the moment of truth. Luna hadn't expressed any reluctance when he'd approached her earlier to ask for this meeting. She'd just smiled and said, "Oh, perfect! I was wondering when we'd be able to draw her in!" Looking at her now, though, Harry wasn't sure she had been totally honest with him. There was a hesitance to her movements, and her eyes constantly seemed to flick back to Hermione. And, the way she'd paused after greeting her, staring intently at the other girl, standing just a little too stiff . . . Luna was unusual in so many ways, but she wasn't invulnerable.

" . . . has Harry told you why we need to talk?" Hermione asked. If anything, she seemed more vulnerable than Luna, surprisingly enough. She was not only biting her lip but was shuffling her feet a little. Her hands were at her sides, but they couldn't seem to keep still; they kept clenching and unclenching. Her fingers tapped her thighs, spread wide then snapped shut, smoothed her robes until the sides were flat as desk tops . . .

"Yes, he has," Luna replied. "I know you'll find it hard to believe, but—no," she shook her head. "Hermione, I'd like to apologize to you, and to you, Harry," she said, turning to her husband. You're Harry's oldest and dearest friend, Hermione, and I put him in a position where he had to keep a terrible, powerful secret from you. I'm very sorry. Can you forgive me, please?" Luna asked, finally finding the courage to approach Hermione and take the other witch's hands into her own. She also looked at Harry, with those big, sorrowful eyes he was growing to hate.

"It's not your fault, Luna!" he said, instantly moving to her side. "You never asked me to keep any of this from Hermione; that was my dumb call. I'm the one who owes her an apology, not you!"

"But, if I hadn't told you-" Luna started.

"Then, I might have gone mental," Harry cut her off. Wrapping his arms around her, he said, "Luna, I didn't know what to do or what was going on. I was in a dark place, and you pulled me out of it. I will always be grateful for that, Love." While Luna softly cried against him, Harry looked up at Hermione, and his heart screamed in pain at the look on her face. Hermione looked like it was all she could do not to either break down and cry or turn and run away. Lifting one arm off Luna's back, he offered it to her. "'Mione . . . I am so, so sorry that I kept this from you, and I can't excuse it. Can you . . . could you please forgive me?" he asked, walking towards her a little. Luna moved with him even in her crying state.

Hermoine looked at Harry's outstretched hand, and walked into his embrace. Harry grunted as Hermione's surprisingly powerful arms wrapped him in her trademark strangling hug. She didn't cry like Luna did, just held him with all her might, and it felt good. Then, Luna pulled one of her arms from around him and embraced Hermione's shoulders, and it brought a small smile to his face.

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"We're soulmates, Hermione," Luna said. The three were sitting down on the shores beside the Black Lake. They'd expelled their tears together, and, while no one was really happy, they all felt better. Well enough to discuss things, at any rate.

"That's . . . very nice," Hermione said, not sounding "nice" but not angry either.

Harry was confused for a moment, before a usually dark light bulb went off in his head. "Oh! Ah, Hermione," he stuttered. She turned to look at him. Oh, boy, he thought. How do I do this? "When Luna said 'We're soulmates,' she didn't mean she and I—no, that's wrong. She did mean she and I, but . . ."

"What I meant to say," Luna said with a smile, "was Harry, myself, and you, are all soulmates, together."

" . . . what?" Hermione squeaked. In any other circumstance, the look of utter confusion on her face would have been amazingly funny. Downright hilarious, even.

"Well . . ." Harry offered. "Luna's definition of soulmate is probably different from yours."

"I see," Hermione said(1). It was kind of obvious that was the case.

"Soulmates," Luna explained, "are those who are destined to always reunite with one another when they are reborn into a new Age."

"Reincarnation?" Hermione asked.

Luna nodded. "Quite right. You, Harry, and myself have always and always will find one another each and every time we are born into a new Age. Sometimes, we are lovers, sometimes, we are parents and children. What is constant is that we are together—oh, and so are the others."

Harry cringed at that last phrase. While they eventually would have to tell Hermione about the whole "multiple-lovers-thing," he'd been hoping to put it off.

"'Others?'" Hermione asked.

"Six others," Harry muttered, placing his head in his hands. This was not going well.

"So, you believe your children," she said, looking at the two of them, "will be your 'soulmates?'" Hermione asked.

"Oh, no," Luna said. "This time none of us are related to Harry. So, we're all going to be his consorts, wives, and concubines." She finished with a smile.

Harry buried his head in his hands, waiting for Mount Hermione's inevitable eruption. Strangely, it didn't come.

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Hermione held her head in her hands. You can't keep a secret forever, her mother had warned her as a child. If you don't break down and let it out, people will find out on their own, and where will you be then? It looked like she was about to find out. "I'm sorry, Harry," she said.

"For what?" he asked, genuinely surprised.

"I-I never told you . . . I've read a lot about wizarding law . . . There . . . there's one related to marriage. A wizard can only marry once . . . unless he's the heir of two families. . . Then . . . he can marry again . . . one wife for each name . . ."

"Oh," Harry said. Turning to Luna he remarked, "You didn't mention that."

"Oh, sorry," she said. "In the middle of everything else, it slipped my mind."

Hermione continued as though she hadn't heard them. "You're the heir of the Potter family by birth . . . Sirius—he's head of the Black family . . . There's no way he'll ever let that title pass to . . . that prat, Malfoy . . . So . . . Harry . . . that means you'll need to marry two women . . . One to be 'Mrs. Potter,' and . . . one to be 'Mrs. Black.'" Though she didn't notice it at that moment, she was crying.

Harry, however, did, and moved over to embrace her. Hermione leaned into him as she continued, vaguely aware that Luna was hugging her from behind. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you," she went on. "You must hate me . . . bloody little . . . hypocrite that I am." And she was, shunning him all night for hiding secrets from her, when she'd been keeping this one for years . . .

"Shshsh." Harry whispered, stroking her hair. "I don't hate you, 'Mione. You're not a hypocrite."

The head buried in his shoulder shook itself violently.

Harry frowned, looking for something to convince her, when Luna spoke. "Hermione," she asked, gently. "Why did you keep this a secret from Harry?"

"Because . . ." the brunette gasped. "I . . . I didn't want to lose him."

Harry's eyebrows shot up fifty feet. "Lose him"—lose me? he thought.

While Harry struggled with this impossible idea, Luna went on. "Oh, Hermione," she cried, holding her soulmate tighter, "how could you ever think that? You could never lose Harry, not to me or to anyone. Everyone at this school can see how close you are. Did you know there's a betting poll on how long until you start dating?" Leaning closer, she whispered into Hermione's ear, "Hermione, of all of us, you are the only one how has no reason to be afraid of losing him. It could never, ever happen." When Hermione didn't respond, Luna looked up at Harry and mouthed, Kiss her.

Her consort needed no further incentive. Gently—oh so gently—he raised Hermione's head and brought his lips down on hers in a sweet kiss.

Hermione immediately responded to it, moving her lips against his and wrapping her arms even more tightly around his lean frame. Some corner in the back of her mind felt Luna lay her head down on her shoulder.

"No!" Hermione said, pushing Harry back. Harry sqwaked a little and almost toppled over. Luna let out an "Oi!" and actually did fall over on her back. Hermione paid no attention to either of them. "Harry," she said, "we can't!"

"Why not?" Harry asked, righting himself. He looked over Hermione's shoulders to see that Luna was all right, although she did not look happy.

"Harry, you're with Luna!" his oldest friend cried.

"So?" the blond in question asked, getting up now. Hermione swiveled around to look at her and saw the other witch was frowning . . . and, apparently ignoring the grass that was stuck in her hair. When the bushy-haired witch failed to come up with a response—and wasn't that a landmark moment—Luna huffed and added. "Hermione, he's going to be 'with' eight of us. I don't think I'll survive very long if I'm the only one Harry's allowed to kiss."

"Luna . . . polygamy is illegal!" Hermione sputtered.

"In most of the Muggle world, yes," Luna agreed, "but it's perfectly legal in the Magical one."

"It's immoral!"

"Is it?" Luna asked. "Who decided that, Hermione? The Greeks? The Romans? They only supported monogamy because it was convenient; they had their heirs with one woman, then enjoyed all the prostitutes Hermione, how often do couples separate because of infidelity? It's more common in the Muggle world, but that's only because divorce is frowned on in the Magical one. Is trying to keep someone's love all to yourself really very healthy?"

"Polygamy is wrong!" Hermione shouted, even though, a small part of her was actively rebelling against what society had taught her, a part that wanted Harry and didn't care what it took to get him. "It's deeming to women-"

"According to who?" Luna countered. "Have you ever heard of the Vikings or the Native Americans, Hermione? They allowed men to marry more than one wife, but both those societies were far ahead of their times in women's rights; both women to seek divorces, and the Vikings allowed women to be warriors. Native American societies often allowed women to become advisors to the chief; some even became chiefs themselves."(2) Luna thought a moment. "You've heard of William Moulten Marston?"

"He was an American psychologist," Hermione answered. "He invented the polygraph lie-detector and radical feminist theorist."

Luna nodded. "Correct. His fundamental theory was that women are more caring by nature and are thus the superior sex. Also, he got the idea for the polygraph from his wife, Elizabeth." Looking at the brunet witch, Luna asked casually, "Did you know he had a mistress, Hermione?"

"He what?" both Hermione and Harry cried together.

"Well, 'mistress' is the wrong term," Luna corrected herself. "The truth is that another woman, named Olive Byrne, lived with them and had children with Mr. Marston. In fact, Elizebeth named her daughter "Olive Ann." Then, after her husband's death in 1947, she worked to support both her own children and Olive's, and took care of the other woman until Olive herself died in the '80s."

" . . . why?" Hermione asked.

"Because she loved her husband, and, one way or another, loved Olive, too." Wrapping her arms around Hermione again, Luna continued. "I love Harry, Hermione. I know that he loves me, too, and that you both love each other; I know that I could grow to love you."

"You really want to . . . share Harry?" Hermione asked.

"I don't think of it as sharing," Luna answered. "I think of it as being part of a group of people. Remember, we are soulmates, all of us together. We're not eight couples which happen to all have the same man; we're . . ."

"A family?" Harry offered.

Luna nodded to him. "Yes, a family."

Hermione was silent for a long time. Then, "I don't know if I can do this," she said. "but I'm willing to give it a shot, for Harry."

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Luna and Harry did their best to explain what Harry's dreams meant and the larger picture of the situation to Hermione . . . as well as the fact that they were already married.

"HARRY JAMES POTTER, DO YOU EVER THINK BEFORE YOU JUMP HEAD-FIRST INTO THINGS YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND?" Hermione was not exactly happy at this little piece of news.

"I didn't know saying the oath was going to marry us," Harry offered.

"But, I did," Luna said. "And for that, Hermione, I am sorry." Hermione, who at this point was taking in air to launch another roar, was disarmed by the statement. Luna went on, "I wasn't thinking about how anyone else would feel about our marriage. I was thinking only of myself, and I am very sorry if I hurt you or anyone else's feelings."

"Thank you . . . Luna," Hermione managed. It was clear Luna's simple, honest apology had thrown a very large monkey wrench into the wheels in her head. She recovered quickly, however, "But, why did you do it, in the first place?"

"Oh, well, I'm sorry about that, too," Luna said. "I married him because it was the only way Harry would agree to make love to me."

"To . . . make . . ." Hermione stuttered.

"I'm sorry, Hermione," Luna repeated. "I wasn't thinking of anyone else at the time; I was just so happy and in love with Harry . . ."

"No," Harry said. "It's my fault. If I had been a little stronger, I could have-" He was cut off when Hermione burst out laughing.

"Oh . . . my . . . you two . . ." Once again, Hermione threw her arms around the pair, and shook with emotion, but, this time, she was laughing. Harry looked at Luna, who, (for once) looked as confused as he did. Still, it was hard not to smile as they held Hermione and rode out her fit of joy.

Finally, Hermione stopped. Sitting up again, she had tears in her eyes, but was smiling. "All right, I accept both your apologies, even though I think they are a tad ridiculous." Harry and Luna both tried to protest, but Hermione cut them off, "I'm making a new rule: no self-flagellation or excessive apologies. No, not another word about this. Yes, I'm sorry I wasn't Harry's first," she admitted with a blush. "But, thinking about it, I know I'm not ready for that. So, I can't really complain if you two are."

"Hermione-" Harry tried.

"New rule, Harry," Hermione reminded him.

Luna hugged her new friend a little tighter. "You're really not mad at us?"

Hermione sighed. "I'm disappointed, but there's no changing it, so—as long as you used protection," Harry cringed while Luna (who was grinning at Harry's discomfort) nodded calmly, "I guess there's nothing else I can complain about. What I don't understand though, is, how you were able to marry each other while you're still underage."

"Only I am, really" Luna said. "As heir of his house, Harry had the right to claim his majority when he turned fourteen."

"I was never told that," Harry said.

"Which makes it a good thing you listened to your godfather and never told Dumbledore about what's been going on lately," Luna said. When the other two looked at her, she sighed. "I've had some . . . odd Viewings when I look at him. I don't know what precisely they mean—they aren't always exact, you know—but I don't think we should talk to him about this."

Hermione looked like she wanted to launch into a lecture, but Harry just sighed, "It's not like he's been much interested in me so far this year, so I guess it doesn't matter."

Hermione looked at her "soulmates" and huff-ed. "All right, I don't like it, but I won't talk to the Headmaster about all of this, not that I'm certain I believe it all, anyway."

"Do you have a better explanation as to why Harry is having perfectly accurate, full sensory dreams about people and events he's never heard of?"

"No," Hermione admitted. "But, how can you explain the existence of three previous human civilizations that the Muggle world has never heard of, and the Magical world regards as only existing in children's stories?"

Harry winced at the growing tension; he always knew that convincing Hermione of all this would be difficult, although he did admit that she raised a good point.

"Well," Luna replied, "according to Muggle scientists, our ancestors supposedly achieved 'behavioral modernity' 50,000 years ago, although it's believe humanity had attained 'anatomical modernity' 150,000 years before that: 200,000 years ago. Is it really so hard to believe that some parts of our early history were lost in all that time. Certainly when Atlantis fell, the continents shifted and a number of island nations sank, wiping out most of the evidence that they had ever been more than stories."

Harry tired and failed to wrap his brain around the concept of 200 millenia. Hermione, however, was in awe of the blond waif. "Luna, how do you know that?" she asked. "Most agicals . . ."

"Don't care about what Muggles have learned or what they write, I know," Luna shrugged. "My daddy is very fond of reading Muggle biology texts, trying to broaden his understanding of the more wonderful creatures of the world. I've read them, too."

Hermione nodded, not commenting on what she thought of some of the "more wonderful creatures Luna and her father believed in. "That reminds me, you never explained how you were able to marry Harry when you were a minor. What about your parents? Surely, they'll have something to say about this."

"My mother is dead," Luna said calmly. "She has been since I was a little girl. It's just Daddy and me, and . . . well, our relationship is . . . strained at times."

"What do you mean, Luna?" Harry asked, his "saving-people-thing," as Hermione called it, was combining with his own hurtful homelife and joining with the love he felt for his consort.

"I don't want to talk about it, Harry," Luna replied. "To answer your other question, Hermione, the oath doesn't care about legal maturity. That I am, more or less, sexually mature and genuinely in love with Harry is enough for the bond to form. It's . . . well, magic."

"Of course," Harry muttered, smiling a little, but, in his heart, he couldn't let go of the subject Luna was so eager to avoid.

"I suppose that makes sense," Hermione allowed. A thought occurred to her. "Is that how you knew about Marston, Luna, reading your father's texts?"

"Oh, no," Luna replied. "I looked him up because I wanted to know more about him. You see, he also created my favorite character, Amazonia of DC comics.(3) That's a funny name, isn't it: Detective Comics Comics?"

"You read comicbooks, Luna?" Hermione asked.

"Of course," Luna replied. "You may not have noticed it, Hermione, but fiction in the Wizarding world leaves a lot to be desired."

Slytherin Dormitories; Hogwarts; North of Hogsmeade, Scotland; Earth 1; September 12, 1995; 11:39 p.m.

Daphne shot upright in her bed. Her breath came out in pants, and her face, if it had been visible, would have been red as a Weasly's head. She had been having the most realistic dream of her life. She'd been bathing in a tent, but not as herself-at least, she didn't think so; Daphne's hair was golden, not red. Then, suddenly, a man had walked in on her. Daphne'd screamed, and then . . . something had happened. She'd seen some strange ribbons of light, and then found herself in the middle of a snow bank in a storm!

In Scotland, it got very cold in the winter, but that was nothing compared the old she'd felt in that moment. It was cold beyond cold; certain death in a soft, white package. She would have died, too, if it hadn't been for the Red-Headed Man. He'd saved her; he'd followed after her with blankets and used some kind of magic to create an igloo for them. She'd been so relieved at what he'd done, so grateful . . . so in love.

They'd made love, together.(4)

It had been so realistic. She'd actually felt every wonderful moment of it (along with the not-so-wonderful moments of pain). And then, just before the end, the man had changed. Suddenly, he wasn't the Red-Haired Man With Grey Eyes; he was the Black-Haired Boy With Green Eyes.

Daphne lay back down. Was that . . .? Was it . . .? Honestly, she didn't know what it was or what it meant, except that she was too keyed up to go to sleep again any time soon. So, Daphne did something she rarely did; she swore.

"Fuck!" she muttered. Quietly, so as not to disturb her roommates, she got out of bed and grabbed her wand and her towel. Walking on tip-toe, she left her dorm, and walked down the hall to the girls' lavatory. As befitting the House of Pride and Ambition, it was a beautiful work of architecture, black marble tile and polished dark wood stalls. The nozzles and taps were silver and gold, and everything sparkled every minute of every day. Daphne had made it a habit to leave a few sweets in the room late at night whenever she got anything from home; House Elves like to be appreciated, too, and the ones who cleaned the Slytherin loos deserved it more than most.

She walked into one of the private booths used for showers (unlike Muggle locker-rooms, the idea of "open shower stalls" had never caught on in the Magical world). She locked it behind her and cast Sæculaclauditis, so the door couldn't be opened with Alohamora.(5) She didn't expect anyone to disturb her at this time of night, but the blond witch wasn't in the mood to take chances.

Turning on the shower, she set her wand on the ledge beside it and hung her towel on the hook. Then, she reached around and undid the strings of her grey nightgown so that, when she pulled off the shoulder straps, it fluttered to her feet. Then, she slid her panties down her long, smooth legs. She placed them beside her wand and walked into the warm water.

There were soaps and shampoos in a little alcove for the students who forgot to back their own because it wasn't on the list of school supplies (mostly Muggle-borns who were too enthralled with the discovery of magic to think straight, but everyone forgot something at some point), but Daphne wasn't taking this shower to get clean; that would come in the morning.

Instead, she sat down on the bench and spread her legs.

LemonLemonLemonLemonLemonLemonLemonLemonLemonLemonLemonLemonLemonLemonLemonLemonLemonLemon
Daphne ran her right hand down her flat stomach. She pushed it through her trimmed, tawny hair and began rubbing her swollen nether lips, hard.(6) “Yes,” the blond teen whispered as she continued her actions. She wondered how the school would react if they knew what she was doing now: the prim and proper Slytherin Ice Queen unable to stop from pleasing herself because of some dream. She wondered how Hermione, the only girl in the school with a reputation for control like hers would react, how . . . Harry would react. It only made her arousal double. “H-shshshshshsh,” she hissed, cupping her breast with her left hand. She squeezed it gently, mewling as she massaged her pink inner walls with her three fingers and continued to spread her womanhood with the other two. Then, Daphne inserted her middle finger into the tiny hole within it.

“Guhh! Heh-heh-heh!” The young witch’s left hand moved; she left the majority of her breast alone and began to pinch and twist the nipple. Daphne continued gasping as she rapidly thrust her digit in and out of her tight heat. Adding to her euphoria, she maneuvered her thumb to her clit and began viciously abusing it. Her back arched, and her head tilted back as she cried. The hot spray of the shower provided a wonderful contrast to the bolts of pleasure shooting through her veins, as her body shivered on the bench. Her right leg fell off, and she had to lift it back up to its resting place; she needed two tries.

As she neared the peak, Daphne thought again about a certain green-eyed wizard and brown-eyed witch. She thought about those green and brown eyes riveted on her, glued to her shaking breasts, soaked body, her open sex . . . Perhaps it’d be enough to make them join her! With that thought fueling her, she shoved two of her remaining fingers in with the first and sped up her movements. And then, something strange happened. The images of Harry and Hermione pleasing themselves as they watched her were joined by six other female visions. . .

That was it; biting her lip, Daphne’s mind went blank as she climaxed under her own attentions. Again, her back arched, this time, using her head as an anchor against the wall as her pelvis shot up. Instinctively, she ground herself against her fingers, trying to wring every drop of pleasure out of herself as her opening spat out its fluids.
She sat there for a few minutes, exhausted body and mind. Eventually, her breathing steadied, and she could think clearly again. Analyzing her recent actions, her flushed face became even more red. She tried to recall the images properly, but—to her chagrin—she couldn’t see the “newcomers” clearly, although she got a certain sense of familiarity from some especially the petite blond . . .

Daphne felt her gut wrench slightly. Did I just imagine being part of some sort of masturbation orgy? she asked herself. Yet, the guilt was far less than what she expected; maybe the orgasm was just too good, but she wasn’t really bothered by her . . . musings.

What Daphne didn’t realize was, at that moment, a pair of dark-skinned girls in two different Houses were going through the same thing. In Ravenclaw, Padma withdrew her hand from her panties; she thought about cleaning it, but it took a few minutes for her other hand to relax enough for her to fight it out of its death grip on her sheets. Meanwhile, in Gryffindor, Parvati extracted a dildo she had enchanted to vibrate from her own spasming pussy. She removed the toy and, with a few expert licks, “cleaned” it; the vibrations felt almost as good in her mouth they had in her sex. Then, she dropped the device onto the bed beside her and grabbed her wand to undo the spell. Unlike her sister, Parvati couldn’t use her other hand to manipulate her magic, as she was currently removing the index finger from her other hole . . .

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Author's Note: OK, I think that went well. That section at the beginning may have been the most gut-wrenching thing I ever wrote, which is part of the reason I'm including the masturbation scene on Ficwad. Partially it's to show Daphne moving forward in her feelings for Harry, (which is also kind of why I put in that line about the Patils at the very end; they haven't gotten any screentime, thus far, and I felt I should get them involved somehow to justify adding them to Harry's harem later. but also because, as I was writing, I got pretty down, so I decided to write something to cheer everyone up (I actually went back and filled the middle in later, so I don't know if it's necessary anymore, but I felt the need to write a little lemon-flavored goodness.

Also, I know at least a few of you will wonder, "Why should Daphne feel bad?" Like I said, the girl just imagined herself as part of an orgy (and mutual masturbation is sex, I--and Daphne--believe; the girl feels a little shook up.

I hope I'm not being too OC with Luna; my interpretation is, having spent so much of her life being rejected like Harry has, she'd be just as sensitive to doing anything that might hurt those who actually get close to her or might drive away her only friends. Also, I've noticed most fanfictions portray Luna and her father as having a happy, loving relationship (the notable exception being zArkham's Rejected Path. Be warned: it is not for the weak of heart or mind), but I can't get over what he did in Deathly Hollows, so . . .

Footnotes:

(1) Characters who say "I see," when they don't really understand what's going on beyond the broadest possible sweeps is a running gag in the Artemis Fowl stories. Minor spoiler: Artemis and his world are (more or less) part of another World on the Tree and will show up in future books. Think you can guess which one?

(2) This is all pretty much true. A bunch of Native American tribes, such as the Sioux, for example, did allow polygamy, but gave their women more rights than the monogamous White Men gave to theirs. In fact, when the Sioux began running out of male chiefs during their wars with the U.S. government, women became chiefs. Heck, sometimes, a man's wife would be the one to urge him to take a second bride (a sister or friend, usually). Since women weren't allowed to hunt, every woman needed a hunter and a warrior to provide for her and her offspring, and sharing a husband made sense when so many died in wars or on hunts. A lot of people seem to see monogamy as a trademark of civilization, but that's only because of Europeans forcing it on other cultures they came into contact with, or other cultures adopting it as they tried to modernize.

That said, I'm not going to have all the major guy characters in this series be polygamous. Some will be (and the more I think on it, the larger than number grows. Oh, boy), but some will find all the love and companionship they need from a single woman. Also, SPOILER ALERT, there's going to be a few cases in this story alone where one lady will find herself with multiple guys. Fair's fair, after all.

(3) Yeah, that's all true, at least according to Wikipedia and MovieBob. Except, the character wasn't "Amazonia," she was Wonderwoman ("Amazonia" was the name of an Elseworlds story that took place on Earth 34). Marston was one heck of an amazing guy. Not only did he (under the penname Charles Moulton) create arguably the most iconic female comic character of all time (whose personality was allegedly based on Elizabeth and her appearance on Olive, who was also a tall, black-haired woman and who wore big, silver bracelets for some unknown reason) he argued that comicbooks could be a legitimate literary form decades before the likes of Alan Moore or Niel Gaiman were making tidal waves by doing just that.

Additionally, he once stated that Elizabeth gave him the idea for the polygraph: she noticed that her blood pressure rose when she got excited. Later scholars would credit her research as furthering Marston's own work on the invention. That's right, Elizabeth was a scientist too, and he let her keep working in a time when most women retired when they conceived their first child if they hadn't already when they married.

(4) This is an actual scene from Wheel of Time, a scene I never actually read, and so may have gotten slightly wrong, but . . . Incidentally, Channeling, unlike most forms of magic, isn't something the practioner feels. Channelers see the elements they manipulate as different colored strands of Power. This will be explained more in depth as the story goes on.

(5) "Sæculaclauditis," is Latin for "Ever lock." Rowling, so far as I know, never explained what the Charm was that kept doors locked, so I made up my own.

(6) Contrary to what you might expect from the Internet or trashy romance novels, a person's pubic hair is not necessarily the same color as his or her "head hair." Case in point, my own is . . . Hey, wait a minute, why am I discussing my uglies with you lot?

OK, I'm sure some of you are wondering why I changed good ole Diana's name for some other character. Well, here's a hint, World Tree Book III.