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THE GAIAN PRESS - Issue 12.0 - January '06


IN THIS ISSUE:
1. The Neighborhood Watch - Gaian news for our attention deficit generation.
2. Honorable Mentions - Writing submitted and scouted by the best.
3. Point! What's Your Point? - Anti-social, anti-state, anti-you.
4. Best of Issue - As voted by the members of the Press.
5. Writer's Aide - Brought to you by Gypsy Hart!
6. The Afterthought - Light banter from the editor and a possible preview for the next issue.



Gaian's Beta Guild:
___We would like to give a warm welcome to our newest affiliate! Like peanut butter and jelly, Marge and Homer, The Gaian Press and Gaia's Beta Guild have come together at last. So look no further, fellow writers, at last a good editor is just a click away! Click: ]http://www.gaiaonline.com/guilds/index.php?gmode=index&guild_id=8620












PART I. Poetry and Prose
Listed in alphabetical order by author.

Half Cooked Christmas, by Wasted_Dawn
Laughing Peace, by Ran
Screwed in Our Brains, by Scary_Fairy



Half Cooked Christmas
By Wasted_Dawn

Cigarette butts in the corner
Stare at you as you slide down
A shattered piece of broken mirror
Reflecting the face of a clown

No one cares how you feel
Now it's Christmas it's for us
No one cares how hard you tried
Just that you've gone bust

All your shattered dreams of salvation
Are washed up in the sink
With bits of half cooked turkey
And the dreams you knew would sink

And the selfless masquerade you've drawn
Falls to bits in your hands
For you know as long as you are wrong
You'll never touch the promise lands

Laughing Peace
By Ran

Remorseful,
A hermit not by choice,
The devil dove sits on the sill,
laughs as he steals
his peace from you.

Ribbons of crimson thread,
strewn in puddles,
stain the carpet,
the potted olive tree laughs,
as his message is lost.

Abandoned,
a mutt no longer needed.
The needle is replaced by the blade,
The rainbow fades out side,
laughing as he leaves you too.

Screwed in Our Brains
By Scary_Fairy

Perhaps our painted strands of hair
were captives in a native snare.

And we watched, our arms clothed
in music notes we've always loathed,
as the phonographs cried,
"How can you be satisfied
with such static and sound?"
The paintbrushes were never found.

So we dealt with the woodworks
with our legs knee-deep in smirks
and the clickings of our mouse.

All our CDs were lost in that house.



PART II. Fiction
Listed in alphbetical order by author.

Angels Thirty, by Judas.
The Badger Brigade, by Hemp Fandango
The Death of Orion, by Dayhawk68



Angels Thirty
By Judas.

"This is the pilot speaking, we have reached our cruising altitude and are en route to your destination, please relax until we near the drop zone."

I hate those chip voices. They keep trying to convince you that there's someone at the helm, someone human. There isn't. We've entrusted our lives to a mass of processors and silicon and twisted silver wire that makes up the AI of our Roc-class transport. It's Issuant, I think.

Good grade. Not the best, but the best available.

True; any higher and it may destablize, go crazy, and kill us all.

Just a bit sooner, then? This isn't exactly the safest occupation.

I sigh and settle into the thin padding over the hard, metal seats lining the bay. All around me there are more soldiers preparing for the jump in their own ways. I can see a few praying, gloved hands clasped in front of impassive visors. One man's staring at his open palms, or maybe the gun across his knees. I look down the row to the bulkhead in front, ceramic plate over steel frame. Comforting, in a way. That's not going anywhere, and I appreciate knowing that. One more solid wall in the box that protects me.

The other side worries me. The door, a plate of ceramic and steel riding on hydraulics. The gate opening to thirty thousand feet of air, and I'm going through that damn gate in the next hour.

It's been four years since I signed up for the Venitian "Reactionary Force". Four years in this military where I didn't have to do anything. Why the hell did this have to start, anyway?

Four years ago, war was a relic of bygone eras. I signed on to the force as a job, that's all. They pushed me through basic; God, those weeks were hell. March, PT, shoot, shout, march, PT, and on and on. Then we were out. The sweet taste of freedom? Not quite, but it was good enough.

The man next to me turns and says, "This your first jump?"

"Yeah. You?"

"Third." He extends a hand. "I'm Lance Kelly. Stick with me, got it? I'll try to get you out."

I shake the offered hand; I can't feel it, and I know that he can't either through his gloves. "Thanks, Corporal. I'll try."

"Good, good. Rig net?" He extends the cable from the side of his helmet. I nod and plug it into mine.

About six months after basic they gave us our rigs. Mark XVI Personal Military Cyber Deck and Communications Array, technically, but to anyone who uses one, it's the rig. I still love them, a helmet that connects to the light armor we wear with a connection to the Field-net, radio bands according to rank, and if we can get one back to barracks, connection to the Inter-Spire-Network. Not officially sanctioned, but they told us how to do that.

They're supposed to keep every soldier on the battlefield connected with his superiors and provided with up to the second information. Mostly they're convenient radios and companions. Each one has a processor and ROM's to make up its AI. Ambulants for most of us, but every now and then a lucky recruit gets a Passant. Keeps thinking, and talks to you. Supposedly they were designed to keep tabs on soldiers for the brass, but now they do a lot more. You can talk to them, right Robert?

My pleasure. I do menial calculations for you, how long you'll spend moving to your target, and all that you're too lazy to do yourself.

That's one way to put it. Robert's been the little voice in my head for a long time now, he's kept me sane and alive, I keep him...

Nothing really. He gives, I take. Strange for something so nearly human to not want more.

I have what I want.

"Finished. I'll be on your HUD now. Get ready, jumpmaster's on his way."

The senior jumpmaster's been moving along the rows, checking harnesses. He's in front of me now.

"Stand up." I do and put my arms out. He cinches a few straps down tighter. "Turn around." He opens my chute bag, checks the fabric and the static lines. "Primary chute is good, pull check." I lightly tug the line to release the canopy. "Good. As you were." He picks up my CLS-7 carbine, inspects it quickly and throws it into my arms. "You're ready soldier. Good luck on your first drop."

"Thank you sir!"

"As you were, soldier!" I sit back down and rest the carbine on my knees. He moves to Kelly and repeats the process.

The soldier on the other side turns and speaks. "Long way from jump school, aren't we? Wish Sargeant Jackson could see us now, eh, Gordon?" I nod distractedly to my fellow rookie. Damn, he's right- it's been three years now since we went through jump training. They were pretty thorough there; we spent five weeks on how to fold and pack your own chute. We need that, so it makes sense. Hours spent in the classroom, under hot tents packed around long tables with the fabric spread out. Sergeant Curran walking along the lines offering advice and criticism.

Then we left the classroom for field practice with Sarge Jackson. That man is the military for me. Hard-a** b*****d, he picked us apart for every detail in our uniform and harness. I still don't know if his speeches were to inspire or terrify. "All right, you pathetic excuse for soldiers! Listen up! We're going for our first live jump- as you can see, it's daytime, little wind and clear skies. Can't ask for a better day, can you? yet somehow, one in every twenty greens dies on this jump! If you can't handle this perfection, how will you take a real HALO drop?"

One in twenty dies with perfect conditions. We'll be dropping into a "hot zone", covered with flak and anti-aircraft guns. Twenty millimeter cannons leave marks, even penetrate a Roc's shell. What will my flesh be like against it?

"This is the bridge speaking, our ETA is in five minutes. Ready yourselves." Five minutes until I jump, until I die. They prepare us to die, you know.

Ten hours ago, ten short hours we were all in the cathedral, arrayed by squad and company, rank and file. Chaplains and priests moved among us, stopping by each man long enough to perform his last rites. "Confess your sins now, brother, for thy soul is in mortal peril! This oil on thy brow in His mark is His blessing, that thy soul may walk in safety! Eat, of this bread, let His body be thy last meal!" A thousand times repeated among the dead that lived. Among us soldiers, going for our jump.

The sergeants run along the rows glancing over our gear as the senior jumpmaster calls for final checks. I slap the battery of my carbine, making sure it's seated well. It feels small in my hands compared to the full-size CLS-13 rifle I'm used to. My hands are shaking. I don't know why I'm this nervous- this isn't my first action.

Two years ago I was a Marine attached to the cruiser Imperial Right, watching some trade route or other. Pirates had been attacking every ship that came through, and that couldn't stand. Our ship found the pirate cruiser, and a platoon was shuttled over to deal with them. We landed in the cargo bay; no one was there, not even a single laser shot met us. The door was locked. We prepared to blast, the sergeant handed another rookie the charge and ordered him to place it. Then detonate it. The explosion tore the door from its hinges, and we all charged in. The other rookie took five shots before the door settled, and another ten before he hit the ground. I was farther back in the formation, but I was able to get my fair share of action in that clearance- two confirmed kills.

Every day I do two things: clean my weapons and thank the Lord that I was not the rookie chosen for the point.

I'm shaking like I did then, like I've never seen a firefight, never shot at a living target. I'm a somewhat experienced soldier, dammit. I'm a Private, First Class, decorated once for removal of pirates in the trade lanes. Then why is this so scary?

The lights at the door now glow a soft amber. "Thirty seconds!" shout the sergeants, and Lance Kelly points to me and another two soldiers.

"Blake, Evans, Mahoney, you're in my drop lance, listen for it." The jumpmaster is ordering the lances for the drop. The lights turn yellow. The door swings down, creating a ramp to the air. Green.

"Go go go!" The first team jumps out and plummets immediately below and behind as we race through the blackened sky. Another four falling into the black. I see the glow of the primary engine thirty meters beyond the edge. Another lance. It's supposed to confuse gunners on the ground who may be relying on infrared to target us. Another four. Two left now. "Kelly, get your lance ready!"

"Sir! Lance ready?" I lock my carbine to my chest plate and grip the release handles for my chute.

Brace yourself Another four fall. I see a glowing streak flying up at the Roc. Kelly screams something over the radio, but I don't take time to listen. I flatten myself against the seats as the flak shell impacts the overhanging fuselage of the transport and explodes, throwing twisted metal through the cargo bay.

The top half of the Lance Corporal of the team before us lands next to me, his entrails catch on a snag and pull out. "Get up and out!" Kelly is already on his feet and halfway to the edge. I clamber to my feet and start towards the gate, stumbling on the slick blood of the Corporal. Kelly jumps, Evans is right behind me when I propel myself into the darkness.

Black.

Flying.

Falling.

My own screaming fills my helmet.

"Shut up!" Kelly orders. He's about fifty meters below me, "Turn head first, get some speed up." I do, and I catch up with him after a few seconds.

The ground is blinking, streams of tracers vomited forth from ack-ack guns, huge canisters of explosives and twisted metal from flak cannons. Three hundred meters to my right, and slightly below, a lance is returning fire. I start to unclip my carbine to do the same, but Kelly stops me. "Watch."

After a few seconds, the gunners find the annoyance, and a flak shell detonates in center of the lance. The lasers fall still.

All around me is the sound of explosions and bullets. Below me is the enemy, above me is heaven. Around me are fellow soldiers.

The oil on my forehead runs with my sweat.

The Badger Brigade
By Hemp Fandango

Chapter Ten: Back to the Future Part One
Yes, there will be a part two. You know, eventually.

The world lurched as Alex stumbled from the vortex, still reeling from the nightmarish swirl of colours and noise she had faced a few moments earlier. Her knees weakened and she fell forward, catching herself on her palms. She groaned and pressed her heated forehead against the cool stone ground, suppressing the urge to vomit.

"'m not doing that again," she muttered thickly. Spots flashed in front of her eyes and her stomach roiled. She remained in her submissive position until she felt confident she could stand without vomiting. She pulled herself unsteadily to her feet and examined her surroundings.

Dust. Cobwebs. Old desks. The stale stench of failure.

'Must be an old classroom,' she decided.

She sighed and then sneezed a moment later.

"...lex..?" a buzzing, disjointed voice called out. Alex jumped up, startled. "Al...x." the voice called again.

Alex leaned against the stonewall, frowning at the ceiling.

"God...?" she ventured.

"Alex!" the voice said, coming in sharp and clear, and now sounding very familiar.

"Sara...?" she muttered to herself. She smacked herself in the forehead. That's right. She grasped the badge on the front of her robes, which was emitting a faint sound of static, and pulled it off. "Sara?" she said again, louder this time.

"Alex!" said Sara, through the badge. A sharp squealing sound emitted soon after. "It worked! It worked! It bloody worked! I am a genius!"

"Sara?"

"I'm going to patent this and make millions," the badge went on. "I'm going to be the richest witch since that awful singer from Weird Sisters-"

"Sara."

"I'm going to go live in Italy, like I always wanted! I'll see Rome!"

"SARA!"

There was a brief silence from the badge. "Right. To business." Alex rolled her eyes. "First, where are you?"

Alex sighed and let herself fall back into a chair, causing a small cloud of dust to rise. She sneezed again. "I'm in a bloody abandoned classroom. Again. Just how many old classrooms does this school have?"

"How would I know?" the badge asked. "Is it a secure location?"

"The door's closed, if that's what you mean."

"I don't suppose you could put a silencing charm around the room, could you?" the badge asked peevishly.

"No."

There was a sigh from the badge. "And why not?" it asked warily.

Alex's eyes narrowed. After four years of dealing with Sara, she could tell when a lecture was forthcoming. "Because it's a little late for that isn't it?"

She didn't hear the deep breath Sara always took before a lecture or see the gleeful gleam in her eyes, but she could imagine it clearly. "Look," she said cutting off Sara before she could begin, "I've just walked through a tunnel of hell to come twenty years to the past so I can... deal with of a bunch of insane bints so spare me the lecture, professor." The last words came out with such force that Sara was cowed into silence.

"Alright, fine," the badge said. "Although I do think you're being awfully dramatic with your "portal of hell" business." it added reproachfully.

"Duly noted," Alex said. "Now what?"

"Right. Find the TGs and make taffy out of them," the badge said.

There was a silence.

"What, that's it?" Alex asked.

"You were expecting more?" Alex heard another voice speak softly, but with the distortion and static of the badge she couldn't make out what was being said. "Ah, good point, Liz," the badge said. "Right, there is one more thing..."

Alex nodded, satisfied. There was always something else with Sara.

"Don't, for the love of God, tell anyone when you're from. Ever. You'll be endangering the course of time as well as breaking about a hundred laws."

Alex nodded and then felt silly for doing so. "Er, right. Of course."

"Seriously. You'll be thrown in Azkaban."

"Yes, I understand."

"I mean, the Ministry would be on you like white on rice."

"Hah! I don't know if you've noticed, Sara, but the Ministry hasn't done jack s**t since this invasion started," Alex snarled.

"Alex!" the badge said, sounding scandalized. "Language!"

"I'm in the seventies, I'll swear if I bloody well please!" Alex snapped. She knew she was in an usually filthy temper but her head still pounded and she still saw faint blue spots when she blinked.

"Fine, I'm not going to argue with you."

"That's new," she remarked.

"However, you should get a move on and get back as soon as possible. I'm not sure how long these badges will last..."

Alex paled. "What?"

"Oh, don't worry. I'm almost entirely sure that they'll last."

Alex opened her mouth to snarl a reply. But the badge squeaked out a final "Good luck!" and went silent. She glared at the golden disk for a while and swore again, because it made her feel slightly better. She gave a long-suffering sigh and reattached the badge to the front of her robes.

"Alright," she said to the world in general. "Let's get to it."

***

Megan stomped out of the L-Space, scowling. It had been quite the exhausting walk and to her tremendous disgust she had started sweating. And the path had been covered in dust and now her clothes and hair were dusty. And they had been nice clothes, too. A pastel blue t-shirt with-

'No more of that,' that very annoying voice in her head said.

'Shut up!' Megan snarled. 'I shall do as I please!' She took a purposeful step forward, toward the exit...

... and gasped, doubling over. Something inside of her was moving. It felt as though her brain was squirming. Her skin tingled and the air suddenly became dry and strange. She gasped again and fell to her knees and - because she wouldn't be a proper TG if she wasn't dramatic - clutched at her head, screaming tearfully.

"DON'T! YOU NEED ME!" There was no response, but the bizarre feeling intensified. Megan shrieked in frustration and fury. She let out a final "THIS ISN'T OVER!" and collapsed in a faint.

There was nothing but silence in the library, broken only by a faint drumming sound on the windows. It was raining.

Megan shuddered. She lifted her head, wincing, breathing hard and looked at a world that seemed larger focused once more through a curtain of limp curls. She groaned and pulled herself into a sitting position.

'How're you, kid?' the voice of Muffins asked.

Megan shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. 'I've been better,' she thought back flatly.

'Are we in the past?' he asked.

'I think so. I won't really know until I'm out there,' she said while tearing off a strip of her blue shirt. 'It feels like I've been walking for twenty years.' She paused. 'Wait, "we"?'

Behind her, someone sneezed. She shuffled around to face the dusty form of her surprisingly faithful black cat.

'I'm pretty sure it doesn't work like that,' he said, settling on his haunches. Megan blinked.

'I didn't think you'd follow.' she said softly.

Muffins shrugged. 'Never been through time before. Besides, that trip was slightly more relaxing than our last encounter in the L-Space.'

Megan turned away and smiled, just a little. She tied her hair back with the blue strip and pulled herself to her feet.

"Right," she said aloud. "Let's go hunt some... girls."

***

Alex made her way down the near-empty halls of Hogwarts. Over the sound of rain, she could just make out the clatter of cutlery and the roar of distant voices. It was dinnertime.

Alex walked without incident, mulling her options and what her next move should be when she heard the sound of heavy, quickened footsteps. A figure came barreling around the corner, robes fluttering out behind them. Alex quickly side stepped to avoid being run over. She watched with mild interest as the speeding figure continued down the hall.

"You should hitch up your robes, boy," she called out. "Or you'll-" The figure's foot caught on the hem of his robe and caused a spectacular face plant, slamming his chin hard against the stone floor. Alex winced.

"Yeah, that," she muttered as she walked over to his fallen form. He groaned as she gingerly helped him back onto his feet. "What the hell could you have been running from- ah, never mind. I bet I know the answer to that one. Hey, is that blood?" she asked as the boy's pale hand flew to his oozing mouth.

"Well it's not bloody raspberry jam, now is it?" came the muffled reply. A pair of black eyes glared at Alex through a curtain of black hair. Alex's eyes widened and her face clouded with dread. "Who are you?" he asked after he pulled his now bloody hand away from his ashen face.

Alex stepped back. "Alex," she answered cautiously. "Alex... Mirth. Alex Mirth. Yep. Fifth year Hufflepuff." She swallowed, dreading the answer her next question might receive. "And who are you...?"

The boy's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "You don't know?"

"I think I might," Alex said miserably. The boy watched her carefully, looking for signs of a joke. He straightened up, as dignified as he possibly could with a bloody mouth.

"I am-"

"SEVVIE-CHAN!"

Alex didn't think it would be possible, but the boy became even paler. "Oh hells, it's her." he groaned.

At the end of the hall stood a stunning beauty in Gryffindor robes. She minced over to them, beaming; her duck-egg blue hair flying out behind her like a banner, revealing her delicately pointed ears.

"Sevvie?" Alex asked. "As in... Severus? Severus Snape?"

Before he could answer, the blue haired vixen was upon them. Her smile had faded with the last few steps. She fixed Alex with a hateful glare from her bubblegum pink eyes.

"Who's she, Sevvie?" she asked dangerously, her pert nose wrinkling with anger.

"I don't care," Snape moaned, burying his head in his hands.

She strode up to Alex, until they were toe to toe. "My name is Lexis Azure Swiftmoon. Are you after my Sevvie-chan?"

Alex looked as if she was going to be spectacularly ill. "No," she managed.

This, for some reason, seemed to be the wrong answer. The girl's face reddened and the specks of silver in her eyes began to expand. "And why not?"

As Alex struggled to sort out the thousands of reasons that instantly came to mind, Snape, seeing Lexis' attention diverted elsewhere, took the opportunity to sidle Hee! away silently.

Alex wasn't entirely sure what happened next. One second Lexis was glaring at her and accusing her of getting between her and "Sevvie-chan's" love, and the next moment she was standing in front of Snape, who had frozen mid-sidle.

"Where are you going, Sevvie-chan?" she asked sweetly.

Snape cursed. "How many ways to I have to tell you to leave me alone before you start listening?"

Lexis giggled and threw her arms around his neck, nuzzling her head into his shoulder. It was Snape's turn to look ill.

Lexis pulled away, clutching his robes tight in her small fists, and stared up at him, her soulful emerald eyes shining with unshed tears. "You'd never leave me for some Hufflepuff slut, would you?" she asked, her voice trembling.

Alex was torn between the surprise of one of the TG recognizing the Hufflepuff house's existence, and the fact that she hadn't been hit with something Unforgivable by now. It was Snape, after all.

Wasn't it? He froze, looking terrified and awkward. Alex stared. Later, she would reflect on how many times she was caught speechless in a single hour.

Lexis buried her head in Snape's robes, sobbing about how "I would never cheat on him, especially with Remus who has offered by the way on many occasions I could even have a threesome with Sirius and Remus if I wanted to but I don't FOR YOU".

Alex stood there, uncertain about what to do. She considered leaving, as she didn't feel she owed Snape any favours. But, then again, she was here to... get rid of all of the TG. Leaving one behind would be one too many. Besides, when would she get a better shot than right now? Lexis wasn't even paying attention.

She raised her wand slowly and focused on the words.

"Purus Morbus!"

The attack flew straight and true. Snape watched in fascination. Lexis paid no mind, even as it slammed into her back.

She continued to sob dramatically, unharmed. The spell had faded, unnoticed. Alex and Snape stared.

"LEXIS WHAT ARE YOU DOING??"

Alex jumped as if electrocuted and pocketed her wand quickly as another TG strode down the hall towards the scene. Lexis pulled away from her snuggle bunny to glare at the newcomer. As the new TG drew level with them, Alex could see she had sable hair knotted into two small buns at the top of her head with red, violet, and orange streaks and stormy grey-blue eyes. She was, unsurprisingly, not wearing the school uniform, but instead a black laced corset and tight black leather pants with various straps and chains hanging from the spiky skull leather belt.

The black haired beauty scowled and struck a sassy pose. "Well?" she asked, with one delicately eyebrow arched. "Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

Lexis stared angrily at her feet, her lovely visage reddening. She mumbled something.

"What was that?" the other TG demanded.

"I said I'm in love with him!" Lexis burst out. "I'm a faerie princess and he's the only one to treat me like a regular person instead of like royalty! I love him, okay?! So don't try to stand between us, Orion!"

Orion snarled in response, revealing two sharp fangs, eyes flashing. The air around her kicked up, causing her clothes to billow threateningly. "You little spore! I'm going to-" She cut herself off. She closed her eyes and visually calmed down.

"Okay," she said after several deep breaths. "I'm not going to eviscerate you, as much as I'd like to. I am going to give you a warning and this will be your last warning." She opened her eyes, which were now a calm steel blue, like the colour of the ocean just before a storm. "Stay the hell away from my twin brother."

Lexis looked up from her feet and glared, her pupils becoming cat-like slits. The area around her seemed to become colder and darker. A soft breeze stirred up. "Never."

"I didn't know you had a sister," Alex commented. Snape had sidled over to where she stood well forgotten on the sidelines.

"Neither did I," he said miserably, frowning. "I thought you had said you didn't know who I was?"

Alex looked away. "Lapse in memory. Did that one just say she was a fairy?"

"Did they? I thought I was hearing things."

Alex and Snape froze.

Alex, very slowly, reached into her robes and pulled out her badge, which was crackling with faint static.

"Of course," the badge went on, "everything sounds muffled for some reason."

Alex stared at the badge. Snape stared at Alex. Still moving slowly and with care, she brought the badge to her lips and spoke.

"Now's not such a great time, Liz." she muttered, trying to speak without moving her lips.

"Why not? Sara told me I could look after the badge while she took care of the dragon-death lady."

Alex paled. "Hang on a mo'," she whispered to the badge. She carefully stuffed it back into her pockets and gave Snape a sickly sweet smile. "I'll just be a minute," she said weakly, gesturing vaguely to another classroom.

She pulled the door shut behind her, muffling the sounds of melodrama just outside.

"What do you mean, "take care of"? What's happened to the TG?" she demanded in hoarse whisper, her face ashen. "Is the portal still open?"

There was a silence on the other end. "Er. Maybe you should talk to Sara. Hang on."

"Liz!" Alex shouted desperately. Silence. She sank to her knees. Her worst fears had come to fruition. She was stuck in the past.

***

The soft sound of rain continued as Megan walked through yet another hallway. She sighed.

'I think I've been here before,' she thought miserably.

'Face it, we're walking around in circles.' Muffins said, trotting along at her heels.

They had been traveling for some time and the small amount of optimism she had worked up in the library had long ago died. They had found nothing. No mournful voices raised in song, no wildly snogging couples in the Astronomy Tower, no majestically flying Phoenixes to be seen, no nothing. Megan had thought she had seen a flash of light as they left the Astronomy Tower, but closer inspection revealed that it was simply lightning.

Although, come to think of it, there hadn't been any lightning before or after that. Megan frowned.

'Can't you smell them out or something?' she asked irritably.

He leveled her with a look. 'What am I supposed to sniff for? Stupidity?'

'A lot of them smell of strawberries and cinnamon,' Megan pointed out. Muffins shrugged and shook his head. She sighed and leaned onto a windowsill, resting the side of her forehead against the cool glass.

'Can't you just tell where they are? Don't you have some kind of sixth sense?' Muffins asked, settling down to rest.

Megan gave no response. She sat motionless, her eyes closed, listening to the sounds of dinner far below. Muffins stared at her for a few seconds, shrugged, and began cleaning himself.

'No,' she said at last.

Muffins looked at her in mild surprise. 'I wasn't being serious, you know.'

'Oh.'

'At least you tried,' he said, stretching.

'Er, yes.' She sighed. 'We may as well just keep walking. If it's Orion and them, then they shouldn't be too hard to find.' She slid to her feet. 'Let's go. We'll head towards the Great Hall.'

No sooner had they began walking, when they heard a soft sound. It sounded as if someone was crying. A sliver of light escaped could be seen under the door of a near by classroom. Megan stiffened.

'Sounds like we've struck pay dirt,' Muffins said, twitching his ears. 'At least they're not singing.'

Megan frowned. She flattened her back against the wall and began to sidle slowly towards the slightly ajar door.

'What are you doing? You don't have a weapon,' Muffins hissed. Megan very slowly reached into her pocket and wrapped her fist around an object.

'Don't worry,' she said, pulling her hand out again. Muffins saw, briefly, a small, filled leather sack concealed in her palm, fastened with a strap around the back of her hand. A Blackjack.

Megan paused at the door, listening quietly. She could just make out the sound of sniffling over the sound of the rain against the windowpanes. She took a deep breath, gathered her courage, and twitched the door open. She held her breath. Nothing. She, slowly and carefully, peered inside.

A small figure sat at a desk, head buried in arms and shoulders trembling, red and gold trimmed robes identifying them as a Gryffindor. Megan crept quietly into the room, her fingers wrapped tightly around her weapon. The figure seemed too lumpy to be one of them. Megan relaxed.

"What are you doing?" she asked. The figure flinched and looked blearily up at her through watery eyes. It was a he. His face was red and glazed with tears, and his thin blond hair was tousled. He straightened up instantly and rubbed his face with his sleeve.

"Nothin'," he muttered. "What are you doing?" he shot back, glaring from behind his sleeve. "Shouldn't you be eating dinner with the rest of them?"

Megan shrugged and stuffed her hands into her pockets. "I was just looking for some people," she said.

His glare vanished almost instantly. He paled.

"You aren't- Shouldn't you be- Why aren't you wearing the school uniform?" he demanded, his eyes wide. He scrambled up and whipped out his wand, aiming directly at her chest. "You're one of them. Stay away from me!"

Megan held up her now empty hands placatingly and gave him a weak smile. "I'm not one of them," she lied. "And I'm not going to hurt you."

His hands were trembling. "I don't believe you," he quavered, glaring. "You people've done something to my friends and I want to know what."

The smile faded from Megan's face. She exhaled and lowered her hands slowly, her eyes fixed on the wand. "I don't know what you're talking about," she said, her tone light. She saw a brief movement in the shadows behind the Gryffindor. Yellow eyes peered out of the darkness.

"Don't lie!" he snarled. "You've done something to them! They treat me like Snivellus now!" He looked close to tears once more. "They treat me worse than him, and they only started acting like this after your kind showed up!"

Megan's eyes narrowed. "I told you, they're not my kind," she said quietly. "You're overreacting."

The boy laughed harshly. "Probably," he spat. "But you would too if your best mates suddenly turn against you, and these girls keep calling you a supporter of You-Know-Who as if I were some kind of Slytherin!" A small shower of sparks erupted as he emphasized his speech with a jab of his wand. Megan flinched.

"Let's try to be reasonable here," she said, reaching for the weapon in her pocket. "I'm sure we can talk this out like adults."

The boy didn't say a word and didn't move his wand. Megan held her breath, her fist tightening around the blackjack. They locked gazes.

'It's been a while since I've had a proper fight.'

'This wouldn't be proper,' Muffins said. 'He's a powderpuff. He'd go down like a tonne of bricks.'

'Yeah,' Megan agreed. 'But that wand...'

The boy bit his lip, his eyes darting wildly around the room. "I should hex you," he said. "I should hex you."

"Or we could talk," Megan suggested. "What's your name?"

The boy still fidgeted, his wand didn't move. "Peter Pettigrew."

Megan nodded. "Nice to meet you, Peter Pettigrew. I'm Megan."

Peter glared at her suspiciously. "Megan what?"

"Elm."

"Megan Elm? No middle names?"

Megan shook her head. "Too posh."

Peter relaxed and lowered his wand. Although his experiences with the TG had been limited, he suspected they wouldn't appear before him as a disheveled, dusty girl named Megan. The clothes were still suspicious, though. He didn't trust them.

Wait, since when are middle names posh?

The door burst open again. Megan and Peter, both still twitchy from their experience, whirled around, Peter with his wand pointing and Megan with her blackjack in hand.

"Oh my," said the tall girl who stood in the doorframe. "I didn't mean to intrude on anything..."

Megan cursed and stuffed the blackjack in her pocket. "Really? Then why did you throw the door open?" she asked.

The newcomer gave Megan a cool look. "To ensure I wasn't intruding on anything. Snogging in empty classrooms is a popular sport these days." She turned away and gave Peter a sunny smile. "Peter Pettigrew, I presume?"

"Yeah," Peter said warily.

"I'm Elsie Shadwell. People usually call me Shadsie." Her dark hair was immaculate, Megan noticed. It was short - very short, and had been combed down to press flat against her scalp. She was tall and bony, with pronounced cheekbones and a wide, thin-lipped mouth. Her eyes were dark and her expression seemed to be fixed in a permanent look of mild amusement. Her Ravenclaw uniform was equally neat and well ironed.

Everything about her bothered Megan. She looked... familiar.

"I've never seen you around here before," Peter said suspiciously.

"Of course not, dear boy," she said briskly. "How can you be expected to keep track of every student in Hogwarts? Especially one who isn't in your house or year?"

Peter didn't look convinced. "What's your middle name?"

"Smithen...son," she said. Peter opened his mouth to make a reply, but she turned suddenly on Megan. "And what's your name?"

Her mouth smiled but her eyes were hard. Megan met the stare with her own impassive expression. "Megan Elm."

Elsie's expression changed instantly, the smile fading entirely from her face. "You... what?"

"What's wrong?" asked Peter.

Elsie turned away from Megan's confused expression. She gave Peter a sunny smile. "Absolutely nothing, old boy! So," she said, rubbing her hands together, "I've come here for shelter against the madness. Why are you all here?"

"For the same reasons as you, actually," Peter said.

"I'm here to get rid of those girls," Megan said flatly, still examining Elsie closely. "There's another girl like me here, in Hufflepuff robes. She was sent here for the same reasons as me, except she'll die if she tries anything."

Silence.

"What?" said Peter.

"Really," said Elsie, quietly. "Well, then," she said, raising her voice. "I daresay we can help each other, yes? After all," she went on jovially, "nobody wants to die alone."

Peter glanced at Elsie and Megan. "Why do you two keep talking about death? I don't think we're going to die, that's stupid."

"Yes, yes, you're probably right, old boy!" Elsie said. "It's best to keep our spirits up and so forth, eh?" she asked, slapping Megan playfully on the back. "So, let us sally forth and tackle them by the horns with a crumbling cookie, et cetera."

Peter gave her a strange look and shook his head. "Whatever you say," he muttered as he left.

Megan started for the door, but was stopped by a hand on her shoulder. She stiffened.

"Elm, you say?" Elsie asked. Megan didn't turn. "You wouldn't happen to have any other last names, would you?" Her grip tightened.

Megan could only hear the sound of rain against the window and the blood pounding in her ears for what seemed like years. She didn't turn to see Elsie's expression, and was thankful Elsie couldn't see hers. She swallowed.

"Nope," she said innocently, and pulled away. Muffins slinked after her, hissing at Elsie as he passed.

Elsie stared at the door for moments after Megan had left, gnawing at the tip of her thumb thoughtfully.

"Well, this is a confusing development," she announced to the room, throwing her hands up. "And there's another girl from the future here? That complicates things." She frowned. "Why am I monologue-ing? This isn't a play, Shadsie. Get a grip, girl..." she trailed off, muttering, as she left.

The Death of Orion
By Dayhawk68

I was willing to love him, me, Artemis--goddess of the hunt, the woods, the moon, and chastity. But as I hoped for the best, all went irrupt.

My father, Zeus, loved Apollo, my twin, more than me. It was clear as day and night. So when I received the lowest and furthest apartments on the Mt. Olympus palace, I was not surprised. I was, however, shocked that he even let me stay, when his wife Hera loathed me, and his favorite daughter Athena despises my every being.
I rarely spent my time on Mt. Olympus, instead I hunted in the woods of Crete near Mt. Ida and the Sea. Other then being bombarded with presences of my nephew Pan, my loyal nymphs, and Aphrodite asking me my advice, I was at peace there. Hunting with the wolfs, at times dancing like my Amazons with Aphrodite on the top of Mt. Ida, or just laying on the beach enjoying my brother's bright daystar brought me joy each day.
All was well until one night after I had shot the moon (a crescent) into the sky with my silver bow, my father summoned me to his grand hall. There I stood in front of him on his grand throne decked with rubies and gold. I kneeled till he spoke, my hair flowing like ebony scarves the way he had said made me my most handsome.
"Artemis I am very displeased with you," he projected his booming voice. " I have heard from Athena that you have criticized Hera and Hestia for their petty roles as goddesses and say that they should act more like you."
Lying b***h! Aphrodite and I have always been the victims of her abhorrent lies!
"Father I have said no such thing!"
"Then you say Athena, wise, pious, and truthful Athena is a liar!?"
Yes.
"No, just mistaken."
"Now she is as incoherent as you or any of the other goddesses are?"
"No, just..."
"Enough!" he yelled shaking the ground beneath me. "Artemis, for such a vile act to the fellow goddess and your queen, you are sentenced to finding a husband within the next five years, or you will never return to Mt.Olympus and will be stripped of the powers due to a full goddess. You will be a demi-god and will never set foot in a woodland again."
What harshness! How completely rash he was, and how I hated him for it! Five years to mortals is a long while, to me it seemed like brief moments. Impossible! And I, vowing to be a virgin, had now to be a hypocrite and marry. My most precious gift was to be gone if I was ever to again indulge in my love for the woods.
So, afterwards, Aphrodite visited me on the beach that night as I sulked and moaned. Of course, she was ecstatic! She had wanted to pay me back for all the help I had given her, and now was her chance. To find me a husband. But of course a god or demi-god that was unmarried was a difficult task to conjure.
"Hercules?" she asked.
"No."
"Jason?"
"No."
"Levilian?"
"Is he not both male and female like your son or daughter Hermaphrodite?"
"Ok bad idea." Then it hit her like Cupid's arrows. "I know... I know who!"
"Who?"
"Orion! By the gods! He is perfect for you! He's your uncle Poseidon�s son, ya know. He's a hunter, you�re a huntress, it just makes perfect sense!!! I'll have him come to these woods and meet you!" And with her giddiness, she vanished, and at last I was alone with my thoughts.
A week or so later, She brought me to one of my sacred temples at the very west side of Mt. Ida, where I saw a man, tall, thick shouldered, with dark thick hair kneel at my statue. I could not see his face at first, but once he finished with his prayer and turned around, I needed Aphrodite's help no longer. With a broad and strong chin and jade piecing eyes gaping at me, I fell in love as he peered into my eyes like no man had before. He was the most handsome man I'd ever saw. There was a kindness in his presence, and he had hunter's hands that were thick and strong.
"My goddess, what honor do I deserve your grace?� he had said, but I ignored the question.
"Orion, my faithful subject, would you hunt with me in these wood?"
"Yes, milady, till you wish me away."
And so for two and a half years we were in each other�s company at all times. I hunted with him, danced with him on Mt. Ida (not like my Amazons), and laid with him on the beach soaking the sun. Until one day I asked him to marry me and be the god of the hunt. He did not hesitate in saying yes. And in that summer our wedding took place.
On the beach where we had spent our most intimate moments was where the wedding took place. Everyone was there, even Hera, Athena ,and my father, to celebrate the wedding. My brother glowed with happiness for me, Pan played his most cheerful music and Aphrodite could not contain her merriment.
Dressed in all white with my hair flowing down to my shoulders, I waited for Orion. As was costumed in all godly marriages I, the bride, had to faithfully wait till my husband came to court me to the alter. But it took longer than I expected. As we all waited, I asked Aphrodite to look for him and my brother and Athena challenged me to a game.
"See that fish swimming in the sea, amongst the waves?" he asked. I peered without using my godly powers.
"Yes."
"Well I challenge you and Athena to shoot an arrow at it without using your powers, in order to see who is the best archeress on Mt. Olympus."
"You are on my twin if you are Athena?"
"But of course," she said with a smirk. "I shoot first, though." And I nodded in agreement.
On a rock she set an arrow to her bow. Aiming towards the sea, she released the arrow and missed the target completely. I laughed as she sulked down the rock. I haughtily walked onto the rock, set the arrow, aimed and released the arrow, nailing my target perfectly. As I was prancing about, Aphrodite appeared and said that Orion was nowhere near to be found. I felt a sudden strike of sadness. Had he left me?
An hour or so later, a body washed up onto shore. It was Orion, bleeding to death from my arrow that had hit him right above the heart. Grief harrowed, I kneeled to him. Only to hear his last words to me.
"I loved thee, my goddess, my wife in soul."
Then he breathed his last, and I wept like no other creature ever created wept for their love. I asked my father if I could place his body in the heavens. In the only act of mercy he showed me, he allowed for his corpse to be a constellation in the sky, near where I shoot the moon every night. My father and I in his golden chariot placed his body in the sky, but I wept as I did so.

Years went by and my sadness never subdued, but it turned to vengeful rage when I heard from Pan (a most sly spy) that Apollo and Athena had plotted to be rid of Orion. I understood Athena's motive, but not my dear brother's! And so started the parting of the Twins of Olympus.