FicWad

Author's Notes: Hey, all! Sorry it took so long, but hopefully eleven pages will make up for it! This is, I think, the longest I've written for this story thus far.
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A Secret Spot on The Black Lake; Hogwarts; North of Hogsmeade, Scotland; Earth 1; September 13, 1995; 4:25 p.m.

"Luna . . . I'm not getting this," Harry groaned, dropping his hands to his sides.

Beside him, Hermione, shook her head in frustration. "This isn't working," she said. "Luna, don't you know anything more concrete about how this process is supposed to work?"

"No, Hermione," the blond witch answered. "Remember, I have never been a Channeler. I only know the basic theory."

"What's a Channeler?"

Harry's and Hermione's heads whipped behind them, but Luna just smiled and replied, "Good afternoon, Daphne. Would you like to join us?"

"I'd be happy to," the Slytherin blond replied as she walked up to the trio. Actually, she was rather annoyed; it was unfair that Luna could sneak up on just about everyone, but was apparently immune to such surprises herself. "What are you working on?"

"Channeling," Hermione replied. "It's a type of magic, or magic-like ability," she said, throwing a glance at Luna whose smile only widened, "practiced extensively in the Third Age."

"How is Channeling any different than normal magic?" Daphne asked, frowning slightly.

"No words or wands, for starters," Harry said, walking over to the girl. He blushed a little as he got closer to Daphne. Here was another one of his soulmates, but how was he supposed to deal with that? He was already married to Luna and had slept with her (and, to be perfectly honest, hoped to do so again in the near future) but had only just started dating Hermione. What would Daphne want to do?

". . . I'm assuming then, there's more to Channeling than just being able to cast wandless spells," Daphne observed. Even if there wasn't, Channeling was already sounding like a highly useful skill; casting wandlessly and casting silently were difficult enough individually. To be able to combine both feats was . . .

Luna nodded. "Quite right, Daphne, and you've just hit the big one. Channeling is not casting a spell. A spell always uses words even if they are only spoken in your mind. Channelers weave their power using pure willpower to manipulate the elements."

"There are no words at all?" Daphne asked.

"So far as we can tell, no," Hermione answered, her own face becoming uncomfortably hot. Daphne's eyebrow was arched, giving her violet eyes a feeling of intensity. They reminded Hermione of the flames she had conjured to attack Professor Snape and the Devil's Snare back in First Year.

"That should be impossible. Sorcerers have been trying to accomplish something like that since the dawn of time, but no one's ever succeeded," Daphne breathed.

"Sorcerers?" Harry asked.(1)

"Wizards who study magic itself," Hermione explained.

"Oh," he replied. "But, when I was younger, I did plenty of things by accident."

"Yes, 'by accident,'" Daphne replied. "Everyone goes through things like that." She smiled in a way that reminded Harry of a cat whose owner had left it alone with a canary and a glass of cream. "I accidently destroyed my bed when I was six because I didn't want to take a nap."

"Wow," Harry said, "the best I ever did was blow up my aunt." When the other's looked at him in horror, he quickly amended, "Like a balloon! She swelled up like a balloon and flew out the door, and floated over the city for a while."

Luna giggled, smiling. Daphne snorted, immediately covering her face. Luna's giggling increased, but Harry and Hermione just smiled at her; that image, immediately after such a vicious one, was pretty intense. Smiling back, she asked, "What was she doing?"

Harry's smile fell. "She was insulting my mum," he said.

"Oh," Daphne replied, heat crawling up her neck. "I'm sorry . . . I take it she's . . . prejudiced."

"Yes, but not in the way you're thinking," Hermione replied, as Harry looked lost. Turning to him, she said, "Harry . . . have you told Luna about the Dursleys yet?"

"No," Harry said with a shake of his head. "I don't think it's that important."

"It is, Harry," Hermione said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You have to talk about this."

"No, it . . ."

"Harry," Luna said, walking over and taking his hand in her's. "Let us in, please."

Harry didn't say anything, but his face said he was wavering. Daphne realized it was her turn now. "Harry," she said, approaching him slowly, "I realize I haven't known you—really known you—very long. The truth is, I still don't know you, but I have to. To make this work—to make any relationship work, my Mum says—we have to know each other. So . . . will you please let me know you? I . . ." Daphne's eyes tried to look away, but she forced them back onto Harry. Taking a deep breath, she continued, "I want to know you."

Harry looked at the three girls facing him and sighed. "All right," he said, sitting down. The others followed his lead. "Daphne, do you know anything about my life outside of Hogwarts?"

Daphne raised her eyebrow; she opened her mouth to reply, then closed it. She thought for a moment before replying. "I don't know, I suppose, I have a few theories, based on what I know of Pureblood customs—"

"I'm not a Pureblood!" Harry interjected. "Sorry, that came out wrong. There isn't anything wrong with being a Pureblood. It's just that I'm not one."

"No, but your father was," Daphne corrected. "It stands to reason that his relatives took you in and raised you."

"Raised me as a pampered little prince," Harry spat, "That's what Snape says, isn't it?"

Daphne cringed a little at Harry's accusation. "It is, although anyone can see that you're too kind to be the spoiled brat he says you are. Actually . . . I was thinking the other night that you didn't even act like someone who'd been raised by a noble family."

"I'm noble?" Harry asked, remembering the family tree in Grimauld Place reading The Most Ancient and Noble House of Black.

"Functionally," Hermione said. "There aren't really any truly noble families in Magical Britain anymore, just a collection of really old, usually very wealthy families.(2)

"And Houae Potter is one of the oldest and the wealthiest," Daphne remarked. She frowned, "But why don't you know all this? Didn't your relatives tell you?"

"I was left with my mum's family," Harry sighed. "They're Muggles."

"What?" Daphne cried. "Why? Any Magical family would have been happy to take you in! You're—"

"The-Boy-Who-Lived," Harry sighed, looking out on the Lake.

"Harry . . . never liked that title," Hermione explained.

"Of course not," Luna said. "Who wants to be famous for something he can't remember doing?"

"I didn't do anything," Harry interjected. The others turned to him. "My Mum's the one who stopped Voldemort." He either ignored or didn't hear Daphne suck in her breath; even confirmed Death Eaters didn't dare say the Dark Lord's name, but Harry said it like a he was talking about the weather. "Dumbledore said that she died for me; Voldemort gave her the chance to escape, but she didn't take it. He—Dumbledore—said love like that leaves a mark, protected me, somehow . . ."

"I'm sorry," Daphne whispered. She gently took his hand in hers. She tried to imagine life without her mother, knowing her parent had loved her enough to die for her, and instantly threw the thought away in pain. How could anyone take that?

Luna hugged Harry tightly from behind. In her mind, the image of her own mother dying in that lab explosion played out again and again. She tried to force it down as a few tears leaked out. She didn't know what the Pattern held for her, but she made a silent vow then and there that her's and Harry's children would never grow up without their mother—or father. No, she thought, None of them will. No matter who the mother was, none of Harry's progeny would grow up without knowing their mothers and father; she swore it.

Hermione, for her part, wondered what to do for a moment. Most girlfriends, she believed, would probably hug their love interests right now, but was that too much too soon? Forget it! she scolded herself and decided to do what she would have done had she not been Harry's girlfriend; she wrapped her arm around his head and leaned it into her shoulder.

For a moment, they were silent together. Harry's mind was racing as fast as his Firebolt, trying to understand how this was happening. How did he become the love of three (and more) girls' lives? Why were they agreeing to share him, to accept one another? It didn't make any sense, but when did anything in his life make sense?

A few moments past in silence before Daphne spoke again. "Merlin, Potter," she sighed. "How do you get away with making me feel like such a hypocrite?"

"What do you mean, Daphne?" Harry asked, lifting his head and turning towards her. Hermione and Luna did likewise. "You're not a hypocrite."

"Yes, I am," the Slytherin witch said. "I judged you based on a little bit of knowledge and a lot of assumptions. I acted just like those boys," she spat the word, "who think I'm an easy lay because they think my mother is, and those girls who assume that she's some kind of whore and that Story and I will be when we grow up . . ."

"What the fuck?" Harry cried, oblivious to the three female heads whiplashing towards him because of his profanity. None of them had "innocent ears," so to speak—indeed, there were foul-mouthed students in every House—but hearing Harry's usually clean mouth utter such a powerful explicative was . . . shocking.(3)

Harry continued. "How could they—? Those bloody—Why would they . . . ?"

The others let Harry breath heavily for a few moments before they dared speak. "People are quick to make judgments based on very little information," Luna whispered, undoing her hug to rub Harry's back gently. "We've all been there: Hermione's just some Muggle-born; I'm the insane eagle; and you can't escape the shadow of The-Boy-Who-Lived. Daphne is the same; as she said, people knew a little bit about her family and spun all kinds of conjectures and theories about her because of it."

"Why do they think those things?" Hermione asked. When everyone turned to her, she blushed. "I mean, what is it about your family—your mother—that makes people think such horrible things about you?"

"You don't know?" Luna asked, tilting her head.

"Harry doesn't either," Daphne said, "Now, I think I understand why—being raised by Muggles and all, and Hermione . . . well, she's never been overly fond of this subject."

"What subject?" Harry and Hermione both asked. Again, no rehearsals.

Daphne fidgeted a little, hesitating before she spoke. "Harry, I told you that my family is quite well off, correct."

"Right," the wizard nodded.

"And Hermione," Daphne continued. "You asked me once what my family did, and I . . . was rather evasive, I believe."

"Yes, you were," Hermione agreed, remembering the day in Ancient Runes. Daphne had inquired about Hermione's parents, expressing curiosity when Hermione explained that they were functionally healers for teeth—"They drill into the cavities? How in Merlin's name does that help?"—but when Hermione had asked about Daphne's parents she'd gotten a complicated, yet vague answer that she surmised as "either sales or shipping." "Why didn't you want to tell me? Are you ashamed of them?"

"No!" Daphne cried so quickly, it seemed reflexive. "I don't care what anyone else says; my parents are good people, and I'm proud of them! My mother has done nothing wrong, and one day I hope to follow in her footsteps," she said, clenching her fists. "It's just . . ." Her hands came undone and her voice dropped. "You don't agree with me, Hermione, and . . . I didn't want to make you uncomfortable, drive you away . . ." Her voice did not just break. Morgana take it, she couldn't lose it in front of both her crushes and the girl she could already see would be Harry's Alpha Mate.

Hermione opened her mouth to speak but Harry beat her to it. "Daph," he said, instinctively using the affectionate. Slowly, giving her a chance to see what he was dong and stop him, if she so wished, he wrapped his arms around her. She didn't stop him; in fact, she looked into his eyes the moment he said her name. "You can tell me. I won't judge; I promise. I . . . I don't know much about this 'soulmates" thing, or the Pattern, or Wyrd, or much of anything, really." Hermione opened her mouth to scold Harry for taking such a dim view of himself, but Luna leaned over and shush-ed in her ear.

"I do know that I'm crushing on you, Daphne." This caused the witch in his arms to take in a small gasp, and made Hermione's heart do funny things—not necessarily unpleasant things, mind you, which was the strangest part. "I've always kind of liked you; I thought you were pretty the minute I saw you, and I respected the way you held yourself, so full of confidence and poise. Now, in the past few days, I've seen how much you care about your sister; I've gotten an idea of the high standards you set for yourself; and I've seen how passionately you support your beliefs and your family."

"I don't know all that much about you, Daphne, but, I'd like to. I'd like to know you, as well as I know Hermione."

"Daphne," Hermione said, taking one of the other witch's hands in hers, as Daphne had done with Harry when he'd been hurting. "It's like you said to Harry. We have to be honest with one another—we have to share with one another—or there's no hope for this . . . relationship." The relationship in question was still a little hard for her mind to rationalize, despite Luna's help, but that wasn't important right now.

Luna smiled as Daphne stared back at her heart's desires in a stupor. Her husband was so very dangerous when it came to ladies, despite being totally oblivious to it (actually, when she thought about it, his sincerity was a big part of his appeal), and Hermione was no better. "It's your turn to let us in, Daphne," she said.(4)

Daphne nodded. "My family own Greengrass Publishing," she said.

"A publishing company?" Harry asked.

"For magazines," Daphne affirmed. "Our most popular being Playwizard."
"Oh," Harry said, his brain melting and dribbling out his ears. "Your family prints . . ."

"It's different than the Muggle version," Luna interrupted. "More along the lines of what Muggles would call 'glamour' photography, nude artwork, than out and out pornography." The others stared at her, and she shrugged. "My mother liked them, and Daddy and I kept most of her things when she died."

"So, one day you found them . . ." Hermione asked, trying not to make it sound like an accusation. She failed miserably.

"Oh, no," the blond Ravenclaw replied. "She showed them to me when she was alive, to help explain sex and puberty."

"But, you said your mother died years ago," Harry interrupted.

"When I was nine, yes," she replied.

"She was showing . . . that to a nine-year-old?" Hermione screamed.

"Eight, actually. My mother believed making love should be reserved for love, but she thought it was incredibly stupid to try to hide sexuality from children. We'd just find out on our own and then get into all sorts of trouble." Luna replied. "I think it was a good idea; you hear too many stories about Muggle teens becoming pregnant because they weren't properly warned. Besides . . ." Luna's voice trailed off. "Spell research is a risky job. She always knew that. So, she wanted to teach me these things as soon as possible in case . . ."

"In case she couldn't later," Daphne replied, nodding. After a moment, during which Harry wrapped his free arm around Luna and pulled her up against his side, she added, "My mother used them to teach me and Story, too. She actually made me look forward to it; I always hoped I would become as beautiful as she is."

"So, she . . ." Hermione implied, or perhaps accused.

"How do you think my parents met?" Daphne asked, arching her eyebrows. "Yes, my mother models for the magazine." Do you have a problem with that? was implied in her tone.

"And, your father's OK with that?" Harry asked, timidly.

Daphne softened a little. "Of course, like Luna said, it's artwork. There is a long tradition of nudity in artwork you know."

"Why?" Hermione asked, frowning. When the others looked at her, she clarified, "Why does she do it? Does . . . does she have to?"

Daphne felt her blood superheat for one moment, then sighed, letting it fall back to normal. She remembered on time in Arithmacy when she had first mentioned the magazine to her friend. Hermione had started railing against the objectification of women and how chauvinistic any man who read it was, all using the same passion she used to decry the "enslavement" of House Elves. Daphne had wilted then and chosen not to mention her family's connection to the magazine.

Now, however, was the time to stand up for herself and her family. "No, Hermione, she chooses to. Mum enjoys being a model, not just for our magazine but for robes and shoes and other things, too. She told me a model is always objectified, made to fit the photographer's ideas, and then interpreted by the view in his or her own way. Whether or not she's dressed doesn't make any difference in that regard. The only difference for her, she told me, is that the nude photos are all about her rather than about some product that she's supposed to advertise. It makes her feel beautiful and energetic, so she still does it, even though there's no longer any money in it since she married Dad."

"And . . . he's all right with other people seeing his wife naked?" Hermione asked?

Daphne shrugged. "I asked him about that once, he said that it didn't matter how many people looked at her, or even how many desired her. He was the one who had her, and that was what really mattered."

"So, what does this have to do with the way other people treat you?" Harry asked, suddenly remembering how this bizarre conversation had started.

Daphne sighed. "Like I said, people know a little bit about my family; they know we publish Playwizard, and that my mother models for it. There are some—mostly Muggle-borns, but there are some from every House and background—who think this means she's a slut who will sleep with anyone, and, by extension, I am, too."

Harry's muscles clenched, but his hands stayed soft as his eyes hardened. Luna saw this but did not comment, though it pleased her to see her husband reacting the same way to the implication that any of his mates were being mistreated. Likewise, Hermione's eyes were wide, and she had pulled the other witch's hand a little closer to her chest.

"Did they hurt you?" he asked.

Daphne shook her head. "No, there were plenty of . . . total creeps," Harry and Hermione were taken aback by the colloquialism coming out of Daphne's mouth, "but they weren't evil, or stupid enough to do anything."

Hermione and Harry looked oddly at her, so she explained. "House Greengrass is very wealthy and well connected; if anyone tried anything, my family could not only charge the person responsible, we could sue them for personal damages and would have a fair shot at winning. Even if we lost the suite, it would be a very expensive, not to mention embarrassing, ordeal. No one wants to make trouble like that for themselves."(5)

"'Personal damages?'" Harry asked.

"Purebloods are very strict about maintaining their daughters' so-called 'purity,'" Hermione interrupted.

"I assume you have a problem with that, Hermione?" Daphne asked, somewhat surprised.

"It's rather misogynistic that a woman's virginity is considered the most virtuous thing about her. It's not that I have anything against waiting," that would have been hypocritical, "but, I would like to believe I have other qualities to offer my partner than a little piece of flesh."

"You have plenty to offer," Harry whispered, causing her to blush.

"Definitely," Daphne agreed. When the others looked at her, she flushed. "What? You're unbelievably smart, amazingly pretty, incredibly loyal; you have astounding natural talent . . ." Her blush deepened and she decided to stop before she looked like a fangirl.

"Thank you, Daphne," Hermione breathed. She knew her friends respected her, but only teachers had ever actually praised her so much.

"It's all true, you know," Luna whispered. "All that and more."

"Really?" Hermione asked turning to the younger blond.

"Really," Harry said, answering for his consort. "You're brilliant Hermione. Absolutely brilliant."


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Later

"You've GOT to be kidding!" Hermione shrieked.

Daphne was red faced, but grinning. "I wish. It was real, all of it! I don't know how many pictures they took. I can't stand to think about it!"

After the catharsis of sharing their private torments with one another (at least, two of them had), the four soulmates had spent the past couple hours exchanging stories about their home lives. Luna had recounted her first "adventure," how, as a four-year-old, she and her parents had gone hunting in the garden for Nargles; Hermione had told the story of how a boy had nearly bitten her father's finger off during a cleaning ("He still has the scar on his index finger," she said, as Daphne stared in disbelief); and Daphne, after a good deal of blushing, had decided to tell her soulmates about the time she had gone snooping in her parents room one night they had left her home alone, and had discovered a photo album in her mother's night-side table. The contents of the photos had scarred her for life.

"Were they at least . . . under the covers?" Harry asked, cringing.

Daphne shook her head. "No, they were completely exposed to the camera, in each picture."

"Why would they make something like that?" Hermione asked.

"It sounds like fun," Luna said. "Maybe we should make a photo album like that someday, Harry." Harry's face did a wonderful impression of Rudolph the reindeer's nose. "Oh, come on, Harry, I'm sure it will make explaining all these things to the children so much easier."

"It did at that," Daphne muttered. The others turned back to her. The Slytherin witch offered a wry grin. "It was another part of Story's and my own 'home education:' an in-depth explanation of . . . proper amorous technique, to make certain we were prepared for our own marriages."

"You're expected to be virginal but you're still supposed to know what to do?" Harry asked.

"We are," Daphne nodded. "Maintaining our virtue doesn't require us to maintain our ignorance; most Purebloods actually teach their children how to perform in the bedroom." At Harry and Hermione's blushing looks, she shrugged. "My father said that it was like a mutual wedding present from both families to the new couple."

"I agree," Luna said. Turning to her husband, she smiled widely. "I'm not an expert by any stretch of the imagination, but I'll bet you were very pleased with how much I knew our first time together, Dear Husband."

Harry's blush sent her into another fit of beautiful laughter. "Oh, Harry dear, I think the Nargles got to you."

While Luna teased her husband mercilessly, Hermione was deep in thought. She looked blankly at the ground for a few moments, lightly chewing her lip before admitting, "I can't do it."

"What?" Harry turned to her. A vice gripped his heart and squeezed tightly. Does she want to leave? Is this all . . . too much? Some part of his brain was amazed that he was this devastated over the idea that one girl might be leaving him when he was told he would have seven more. The majority told that part to go jump in the Lake.

"I . . . I think I understand, sort of, how you and your mother see this, Daphne," the brunette said, turning to her Slytherin friend, "and I respect your decision. But . . . I'm sorry, I just can't do that, and I don't think I could really allow my children to do so either. I suppose I couldn't stop them, but it would cause an awful row and—"

Harry withdrew his hand from Daphne and wrapped it around his oldest friend. "Hermione, no one is going to make you do anything your uncomfortable with," the young wizard said. "I've been forced to do so much that I hated . . . How could I ever put someone else—someone I love-through that?" He pulled her into his side. "I promise I will never do that to you, any of you," he said, looking around at his consort and . . . other girlfriend? What was Daphne at this point?

The Slytherin witch nodded and held her friend's hand close to her. "Hermione . . . I understand how you feel. Story's still young, but she's already decided that she doesn't want to model for us. Mum, Dad, and I all respect her for that, and I respect you for it, too. What's right for me, isn't necessarily right for you, and, so long as you allow me to make my own choice about this, I'll support you in your's. I promise."

Hermione was on the brink of tears now, her logical mind trying, and failing to wrap itself around what was going on. Her upbringing had informed her that this was an impossible situation, so how was it working out so well? Then, Luna, who had silently let go of Harry and walked around behind them, embraced her from behind. "Never doubt that we love you, Hermione," the blond Fourth-Year whispered. "And never doubt what that means."

Hermione finally allowed herself to cry, and she smiled as she did so. And then she realized something, something she had always none, but hadn't thought about in years. Her upbringing had informed her that being a witch and learning magic was impossible. Yet, here she was.


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"We should probably head in," Daphne noted, as the Sun sank beyond the mountains. "It will be time for Dinner soon."

"Merlin," Hermione breathed. "We haven't done any homework, and there's a quiz in Defense tomorrow, and we still don't know how to Channel—"

"Breathe, Hermione," all three said at one. The four were all silent a moment before simultaneously bursting into laughter. The either doubled over or fell back, clutching their sides, and gasping for breath.

When she finally recovered, Hermione wiped the tears out of her eyes, and said, "All right, we'll do our work tonight." She paused for a moment, then turned to Daphne and Luna. "Um . . . will you two . . .?"

"I can manage on my own, Hermione, but thank you," Daphne responded, smoothing her dress.

"Likewise," Luna said, still lying on the grass.

"I guess we should get going," Harry said, moving to get up, but couldn't because Luna had pushed herself up again and wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

"Oh no, Dear Husband," she purred into his ear. "You can't tell me that after all that you aren't randy as can be."

"Luna!" Hermione gasped, her face bright red.

"Oh, leave them be, Hermione," Daphne said, standing up now. "Let's continue this discussion another time. For now," she said, eying the blushing wizard and his smirking consort, "we should leave these two to 'enjoy themselves,' as my parents would say."

"All right," the brunette witch agreed, sighing. Leaning over, she kissed the stammering Harry on the cheek. "See you later, Harry, Luna."

"We won't take too long this time," Luna promised, kissing Harry's neck and cheek, making it even harder for the poor boy to think straight.

Daphne smirked and took Hermione's hand in her own to lead the bushy-haired witch back to the Castle. Just before leaving Harry's line of sight, however, she turned around and blew him a kiss.

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"So, you're all right with this?" Hermione asked, as they walked back towards the Castle. A part of her was wondering why Daphne had taken her hand. Another part wondered why she liked it so much.

"Perfectly all right," the Slytherin replied. "I've always known I would likely have to share my husband with another; I'm the heir of House Greengrass after all, and if I don't become a consort and keep my own name, Story's chances of marrying whomever she desires will fall." Looking her friend in the eye, she continued. "You know Hermione, it's not that different for you. Should you chose, you could become Harry's consort, as the lady of House Granger."

Hermione blushed. "Thank you, Daphne, but I already know that. Perhaps you will think this strange of someone so vocally feminist, but I've always . . . The idea of changing my name to my husband's has always been rather romantic for me."

Daphne nodded. "I think I see it, but you're wrong; there's nothing strange about it. You're you, Hermione. My father told me once," she said, remembering the time she came home crying because the pureblood girls she had gone to elementary school with had called her a blood-traitor for not joining them in their game of insulting Muggles, "that people are all individuals. Just because you agree with so-called 'feminists' about one thing, doesn't mean you have to agree with them about everything." Squeezing Hermione's hand a little, she smiled. "Harry's right; you're brilliant as you are, and none of us would trade you for anything."

Hermione smiled with pink cheeks. "Thank you, Daphne."

Daphne just shrugged. "That's one of the two things friends are for, supporting one another in moments of difficulty."

"What's the other thing?"

"Based on my own observations," Daphne replied, her mouth curling with mischief. "Another is sharing secrets with one another. "So, have you and Harry . . ."

"No!" Hermione screamed. Daphne cringed, and Hermione, red-faced again, smiled a little. "We're . . . taking things slowly, and I'm not going to marry him at the drop of a hat, like Luna did."

Daphne nodded. "Smart. I think I'll wait a bit too." Though perhaps not as long; she was already planning to write to her parents tonight.

Then, she smiled what Hermione called "her Slytherin smile." It was a smile that told you someone else was about to be very sad. "Hermione, I would like to invoke both 'things' now and ask you to tell me why Harry's hand looks as though someone carved into it with a knife?"

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Author's Notes: Yeah, I finally addressed Channeling! Hopefully more on that later. By the way, I am NOT publishing a sex scene between Harry and Luna at this time! There is no reason for me to. I WILL write more scenes between the two of them later. (I've already got one planned).

Ok . . . Daphne's family and Playwizard: I've read a bunch of stories, not many of late though, where Daphne models for this magazine. I kind of liked the idea (especially as I interpretted the magazine's content), but I couldn't ignore the fact that Daphne was UNDERAGE. This is my solution. This chapter dragged on because I wanted Daphne to support her and her mother's decision and have Hermione offer the alternate view. I don't want to preach about this subject, so I just decided to present both sides of the issue. This is one of the advantages to giving Harry multiple partners.

Granted, I know some of you will still call me a pig over this. Oh well, if you haven't learned anyting else by now, I'm pretty good with different beliefs and opinions from my own.

Footnotes:

(1) This is also true in my other ongoing Harry Potter story, Son of a Snake.

(2) This is pure conjecture on my part, but Lupin said in Half-Blood Prince that "there are no princes in the Wizarding World," so I decided to reinterpret the concept of Wizarding nobility. The tapestry in Grimauld Place, as far as this story is concerned, just reflects traditional Purebood arrogance.

(3) This is a reference to Solomon Kane, another of Robert E. Howard's hereos, specifically the story Red Shadows a.k.a. Solomon Kane. Also, (hint time!) an important treasure from the Solomon Kane stories will appear later in this story, and will bridge the Howardverse with The Wheel of Time. Can you guess what. What's more(Another hint!) it be something that was thought to be impossible in WoT.

(4) Another sort-of WoT quote, when Rand admits his feelings to Min in Crown of Swords, she says he is "very dangerous."

(5) This is an inexplicably popular element I've seen in a lot of stories since The Harem War. Honestly, I don't particularly like it, partially because it's so horrible, but also because it doesn't make a lot of sense. Part of the point of putting Daphne in the harem is to show that not all Slytherins are bad. Having all the males be serial-rapists seems like the opposite.

Also, when you think about it, there's no real reason for it. The Death Eaters are kind of like Nazis, and (whatever else they did) I don't remember the Nazis (in general) accused of rape. Remember, these guys see themselves as heroes of "proper society." Assaulting that society doesn't make a lot of sense. Granted, there must be a handful of turly types who would do this, but they do not represent the whole population. The Death Eaters are evil , but only a few a capable of fully embracing Voldemort's ideas of amorality in the name of power. As I said earlier, they see themselves as the good guys.

Thirdly, I've never really gotten the idea that the Wizarding World is ultra-sexist. They have women professors, curse-breakers, police officers, business owners, reporters, even politicians. Heck, in Fantastick Beasts and Where to Find Them, there was a female head-of-state in the 18th or 19th century! As far as I'm concerned, women's rights is one thing the magical World is equal if not ahead of the mudane one.