Post by LE Member on Jul 10, 2008 23:47:33 GMT -5
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In the Department of Mysteries, deep in the dungeons beneath the Ministry of Magic there is room that is always locked. Or at least, it’s always supposed to be…
Pandora Twiddle hadn’t meant for it to happen. All she wanted was a decent mark on her final exam, and a research grant to work as an Unspeakable. She hadn’t meant to leave the door unlocked, but she’d been stressed, and yeah, okay, more than a little hungover.
Just two more days and she’d have handed in her thesis and shut down the project. She’d thought her subject was fascinating – there weren’t many magical theorists working on eromancy, and scant little research on Queer theory in the field. Most of the best-respected researchers were still caught up in parental and filial love, which was where all the funding was.
Her work would have changed that. She’d used cutting edge particle magic theory to study trace remnants of old magic. She’d proven even to her hard-headed supervisor that the love magic the founders had used to place some of the oldest protective spells on Hogwarts School was – well – pretty damn gay.
One minute’s carelessness in the pursuit of jam doughnuts later, and everything was ruined. The protective field where she’d set up her model of the Hufflepuff/Ravenclaw Bonding Charm stood before her, empty and mocking.
With a shifty look around to make sure she was still alone, Pandora waved her wand and the field disappeared. She’d say she finished early and ended the spell. And nobody need ever, ever know what she’d just done.
Miles away a fluttering line of thin silver light flew rapidly northwards through a clear blue sky. It slowed as it drew close to an old castle, perched above a Scottish lake. It settled over the highest tower, making the turret glow briefly. Then it spread out again, and faded away in a wide circle, leaving an odd ripple in it’s wake, like the slight distortions of curved glass. The charm was reflected all over Great Britain within the next few days, the caster apparently going a little trigger happy, fixing itself into the home's of witches and wizards everywhere.
Nobody saw it happen, but they’d start to feel its effects soon enough.
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In the Department of Mysteries, deep in the dungeons beneath the Ministry of Magic there is room that is always locked. Or at least, it’s always supposed to be…
Pandora Twiddle hadn’t meant for it to happen. All she wanted was a decent mark on her final exam, and a research grant to work as an Unspeakable. She hadn’t meant to leave the door unlocked, but she’d been stressed, and yeah, okay, more than a little hungover.
Just two more days and she’d have handed in her thesis and shut down the project. She’d thought her subject was fascinating – there weren’t many magical theorists working on eromancy, and scant little research on Queer theory in the field. Most of the best-respected researchers were still caught up in parental and filial love, which was where all the funding was.
Her work would have changed that. She’d used cutting edge particle magic theory to study trace remnants of old magic. She’d proven even to her hard-headed supervisor that the love magic the founders had used to place some of the oldest protective spells on Hogwarts School was – well – pretty damn gay.
One minute’s carelessness in the pursuit of jam doughnuts later, and everything was ruined. The protective field where she’d set up her model of the Hufflepuff/Ravenclaw Bonding Charm stood before her, empty and mocking.
With a shifty look around to make sure she was still alone, Pandora waved her wand and the field disappeared. She’d say she finished early and ended the spell. And nobody need ever, ever know what she’d just done.
Miles away a fluttering line of thin silver light flew rapidly northwards through a clear blue sky. It slowed as it drew close to an old castle, perched above a Scottish lake. It settled over the highest tower, making the turret glow briefly. Then it spread out again, and faded away in a wide circle, leaving an odd ripple in it’s wake, like the slight distortions of curved glass. The charm was reflected all over Great Britain within the next few days, the caster apparently going a little trigger happy, fixing itself into the home's of witches and wizards everywhere.
Nobody saw it happen, but they’d start to feel its effects soon enough.
[RULES] [CANONS] [TEMPLATE][/align][/font]