SHIP: E.L.G.I.N.M.A.R.B.L.E.S.

[charisjulia]

A late answer here to Elkin's E.L.G.I.N.M.A.R.B.L.E.S. Didn't see it 
for some days I'm afraid as I'm not in the habit of visiting this 
chatter and didn't notice the message in the main chamber. So, I'm 
not really sure it'll actually reach anyone interested in reading it. 
But, for those of you who haven't been following this thread till now 
I would like to repeat the warning that this possibly, well probably, 
won't make much sense. Sorry!

                               *  *  *

Charis Julia is lying on a deckchair soaking in the rays. Her head is 
resting on a big, red, heart—shaped pillow and she's happily sipping 
pink lemonade. At intervals she reaches out for a strawberries and 
cream from the bowl that's by her hammock. At it's side is resting a 
long letter in Elkin's swooping hand. Doves are twittering around 
overhead and the crew of stuffed teddy—bears are lounging around 
lazily. Every now and then one of them flings himself at another's 
feet passionately swearing eternal devotion and then throws himself 
overboard into the emerald sea. An unseen radio is balefully 
wailing ". . .for I—ay—ay, will always loooove you—oo—oo—
ooooooooooo. . ."

Ah, this is the life! Laying back, doing nothing, just letting your 
imagination freely concoct the most ludicrous romantic escapades 
unchecked! No terrorizing enemy ships coming down on you, no mad 
rowing to escape, no Canons busting through the portholes. I could 
get used to this!

Thank you Elkins! Bring it to the OT—Chatter, now why didn't I think 
of that? You're our savior and, if it'll help to re—establish your 
damaged due to recent lapse pride, it is now my turn to bow down low 
self—abasingly muttering my thanks. E.L.G.I.N.M.A.R.B.L.E.S. and it's 
crew will forever honour you.

The Captain reaches out for Elkins letter once more to admire her 
genius. But Elkins is now * criticizing*. Captain scowls.

>"Sweet? Oh, noooooooo.  No, no, no, no, no.  Not at 
>all.  I, er...well, as you know, my tastes are usually, er, a 
>*little* more, um, violent and, uh, ugly, but that's...that's 
>perfectly all right, Captain.  That's just fine.  I..."

Hmmm.<contemplates>. Hmmm. <contemplates some more>.Sweet. The cherry 
filled chocolate in the Captain's stomach churns. Hmmm. She glances 
around at the pastel flowers and frilly, lilac bows. The music pounds 
in her ears.

Errr, maybe you've got a point. Maybe we did go a bit overboard on 
the sweetsie front. Captain glares accusingly down at the little—
heart—nosed First Mate. "All his fault!" she hisses to Elkins.

Right. <smartly clapping hands> Change of decorations.

Charis peruses Elkins letter a minute for ideas. Interesting. . . 
Yes, definitely some good ones in here. Centaurs! Niiiice! Trolley 
witch, excellent, still need canons even in these calm waters. 
Voldemort's wand. Good. Good. Bring that in too. We can accommodate 
all.

But. . . Charis looks up. What is a half centaur? A fawn with horses 
legs instead of a goat's?. . . She never smiled again? Not ever? 
Because of one measly meeting? . . . Death at birth? <eyes widen 
horribly> Look I know I said redecorate, but, well, enough is enough!

Look, tell you what I think needs doing here. I think you've got your 
heroines mixed up. You've got Campanula and Dimorphotheca living each 
others lives. Yes. Hmmm. . . Soooo. . .Let's just see what happens if 
you change them round, shall we? 


Elkins writes:
>And 
>besides, dear Dimorphotheca...well, truth be told, she was never the 
>brightest star in Gryffindor's firmament anyway.

What? Surely that can't be right! Dimorphotheca * was* bright. A 
dozen O.WL.s and double the number of N.E.W.T.s, I'll have you know! 
And can you guess what her best subject was? Potions! Ah, yes, 
haven't you ever wondered how Snape acquired his poetical 
appreciation of this subtle science? Was he instinctively drawn by 
the beauty of simmering cauldrons and shimmering fumes? No, no, no, 
Cherchez shakes it's head sadly. Obviously, it is the memory of cozy 
dungeon sessions pickling rat brains he is recalling here. Ah, yes, 
it was much a stronger power that crept through Snape's brain, 
ensnaring the mind, bewitching the senses. . . the Power of Love!

And do you know which potion it was Dimorphotheca had especial 
expertise on? The Polyjuice Potion.

Was it a love—thwarted Campanula who met Remus on that fateful day 
aboard the Hogwarts' Express? Was her smile consequently wiped 
forever off her face from misery caused of sighting Loved One? Did 
Morphie really return to Muggledom? Could she possibly leave the 
wizard world behind her for ever? What would she say to Muggle job 
interviewers? I'm fluent in Gobbledygook? Have we really never come 
across her anywhere in Canon? Is Dimorphotheca her real name?

No. Thankfully her parents were kinder than that and named her. . . 
Arabella Figg.

Ah, yes. Why do you think a powerful witch who's even part of The 
Crowd agreed to live in the Muggle world for so long? Why do you 
think she had such a crabby attitude? Why do you think her only 
friends were cats? And why should Dumbledore be so sure she would pit 
herself against Voldemort in the new war. What's her particular 
grudge against him? (If you notice all the good guys have one).

Devastated by the betrayal of her love Sirius and seeing her world 
crumbling around her Arabella did in fact decide to cut all ties with 
the wizarding world. All but one. Before she left Dumbledore paid her 
one last visit and asked a huge favour of her: to keep an eye on 
little Harry Potter. And how could she refuse? Her best friends' 
child! A poor little orphan! After all she wouldn't have to do much. 
Just cook up a Polyjuice Potion in the basement once a year at 
Dudley's birthday.

And this is the way the next ten years pass till Harry enrolls at 
Hogwarts. Once in the school there is no danger for him, Dumbledore 
himself can watch over the kid. But how to protect him till he gets 
there? For, to tell you the truth, the Hogwarts' Express doesn't 
strike me as the safest guard against Dark Powers. The Dementors at 
least seem to be able to hitch a ride whenever the fancy strikes 
them. So, the faithful Arabella goes along after Harry disguised as a 
dimpled trolley lady. There's no harm in it. She needn't actually 
discuss events of the wizarding world with anyone, need she?

No. Till Harry's third trip to Hogwarts that is. For right in the 
middle of it the train stops, the lights go off, screams slash the 
air. "No, no,no. . ." Her head reels, her heart pounds, horrible 
flashbacks shoot through her mind. . .  It's like then. . . Just like 
* then*! Terror, uncertainty, oh, no, it couldn't be. . . ! And then, 
the compartment door opens and there appears a face. A familiar face. 
A face from the Past. Remus Lupin is looking right at her. She feels 
faint, sick. She's back, back in a world she tried so hard to rid 
herself of. . .

"Remus! You! Here! Oh, Remus what's going on?"

He avoids her eyes. "Nothing. Azkaban guards searching the train. 
It's nothing. Nothing."

"Searching the train? But. . . why?"

And then he tells her. It's Sirius, he says. They're looking for 
Sirius. Sirius escaped.

Ah, the tormented memories that flood her! The anguish she has tried 
to suffocate for so long. . . He's free. He's out. He's * real* again.

And then, just to give her a little more angst, she ran into a 
Dementor. Terrorised shrieks fill her ears. A steely voice repeats 
itself again and again pounding at her eardrums. . . "It was he, 
Bella, it was he. . ." And is it this that Sirius has been locked up 
with for 12 year? No. . .!

So, you see her we have the real solution to THE CASE OF THE LOST 
SMILE. Not guilt over not supporting her man. Not reawaked longing 
for his embrace. No, things are much more sinister indeed. What the 
trolley witch is facing is clearly Resurfaced Fears, Long Lost Love 
and (most importantly) Conflicting Loyalties. Who shall she support? 
The Light Side or the Man She Loves? This is the real question she 
ran away from so long ago and this is what she will return to 
Dumbledore's side to at last face up to.

But, meanwhile what's happening to Campanula? According to Exchanged 
Lives she's the on with the centaur adventures. (I mean, isn't it 
obvious? She's plainly got a thing for animal—men.). But, no, she is 
not abducted into a dark Forest by a rampaging Polygonatum after 
Tragic Wedding Incident. I don't know how Centaurs behaved 2,500 
years ago, but these days they are civilized and masters of savoir 
vivre. They call a lady up and politely ask her out to tea and 
crumpets. And what's more they'll usually give her a really good time 
too, though she might have to put up with bitter tea, all the sugar 
lumps having mysteriously disappeared from the bowl. . . 

You should have done your year calculating better, Elkins. Firenze 
could not possibly be the half—centaur son of Lily's old friend. If 
he were that would make him 9 years old at the most in PS/SS and, 
well, I don't know much about centaur life expectancy, but I've 
always had the impression it was a good deal longer that humans', in 
which case 9 is not a very advanced age at all-- certainly not one at 
which a centaur might have a defined political conscience and the 
strength to defy his elders. However I do agree that this political 
conscience needs examining a bit closer. Let's concider the 
possibilities. Who else do we know who at this time might have 
serious problems with the construction of magical society?


What does Campanula do after Remus leaves her? Does she sit around 
with folded arms? Does she smile bravely over trolleys of Chocolate 
Frogs? No, I say! Campanula is a woman of action.

Her whole life has been pulled asunder and the reason is apparent. It 
is not poor Remus who is to blame. He was only doing what he thought 
was best after all. He was acting out of Love. He was forced to cut 
off their relationship because of the Pressures of 
Society! "Slander!" Campanula fumes. "Injustice! Unfair 
Discrimination! And she promptly founds PHEW for the Protection 
against Hounding of Ennocent (her spelling's not too hot) Werewolves.

In her fight for Werewolf Rights she turns for the support of her old 
friend from Hogwarts, the Centaur from the Forest down the street, 30—
something—year—old Firenze and the two unite their powers to combat 
discrimination of every kind on both fronts: wizard and centaur. 
Unfortunately however, they don't have much luck to start with. 
Wizards won't listen and Centaurs just snobbily go on about their 
ways and shame and things like that. But Campanula and Firenze can 
wait. They know there's a new generation coming up, one that didn't 
grow up in the shadow of Voldemort, scared of everything Dark and 
Dangerous. That is why when, at the end of book 4, Campanula hears of 
an opening at Hogwarts for a DADA teacher, she jumps at the chance. 
Not only will she and Firenze be in constant contact and therefore 
better able to plan their campaign, but she will also be able to 
awaken all those searching young minds to this Outrageous Abuse. At 
at Hogwarts Campanula will meet Hermione Granger, an idealistic young 
witch, who has already started her own battle against elf enslavement 
and who will later prove an energetic advocate of Equality For All 
Magical Creatures.


Elkins brings up on last matter:
>People 
>are always wondering about Voldemort's wand.  Where could Peter have 
>hid it?  Is it possible that he had an accomplice?  Did he hand it 
>over to one of the other Death Eaters sometime between the muggle-
>blasting incident and his disappearance from sight?  And if so, then 
>how did he get it *back* to give it back to Voldemort in GoF?  
>Of course Peter didn't have an accomplice among the Death Eaters. 
>How could he have? Not one of them 
>seems to be smirking to himself there in the graveyard, 
>thinking: "Boy, Pettigrew really owes me one for giving him back 
that 
>wand a few months ago."  Not one of them seems to be expecting Big 
>Rewards from Voldemort for keeping his wand safe for the past 
>thirteen years.

Ah, yes. But not all the Death Eaters are there are they? Can't you 
think of anyone who certainly is expecting Really, Really Huge 
Rewards?


But Elkins thinks that it's somebody out side the Death Eater ranks 
who's responsible here and, commenting on my unfortunately misleading 
naming, continues:

>I *see.*  *Well!*  
>
>And you people always wonder why the poor little rat went bad?
>
>Okay.  That's it.  That.  Is.  *It.*  My sense of group loyalty 
towards all of those of us who...well,
>who Learned The Truth At Seventeen, shall we just say, has now been 
invoked.  It's been invoked with a vengeance.  This time around, 
Peter's getting the girl.  

Charis frowns slightly. Almost unnoticeable, tiny fluffy pink clouds 
glide softly into the baby blue sky. Truth? What Truth? You know, I 
had to learn a fair share of Truths myself long before I turned 
seventeen and the only comfort I've ever been able to find for this 
is that it forced me to become a stronger person—not a weaker one. I 
confess I don't like Pettigrew. In fact he's probably the only person 
in the books (Voldemort doesn't count) that I truly * dislike*. Not 
because he's scrawny and small and pathetic. Not because he's selfish 
and cowardly. No, not even because he's a deceitful, underhanded, 
double—faced piece of filthy vermin who put his own useless little 
self before his best friends' lives. (Yes, definitely feeling most 
uncharitable right now) I dislike Pettigrew exactly because, as far 
as I can see, he has absolutely no grasp on Truth wharsoever.

Obviously, Pettigrew's youth was not the hottest going. It sucks 
always being set up against friends more talented and admired than 
yourself, I know. You're constantly being ticked off by McGonagall 
because your snuff—box still squeaks if you give it dried corn and 
you just can't help wishing you could be something other than what 
you are—anything will do, anything! A Keeper in the Gryffindor 
Quidditch team, a debonair wizarding Don Juan, a monthly monster, 
just anything! And maybe there's even more there that we don't know 
anything about. Could there have been perhaps Troubles At Home? 
Remember how in PoA Fudge when talking about Peter's death mentions 
only his mother? Where' Dad? Another Crouch Sr? After all, no Death 
Eater is complete without his very own Disappointing Father.

So, Pettigrew had problems. But did he face up to them? Did he search 
for the Truth behind them? Did he realise that his friends weren't 
really to blame and that only he himself could prove himself just as 
worthy and endowed than them and gain respect by his exemplary 
choices? No. He decided to go over to Voldemort. He didn't see Truth. 
In fact when Truth came knocking on his front door Pettigrew screwed 
up his eyes, put his fingers in his ears and went to hide under the 
bed.

But you feel for Peter. You believe he really isn't to blame. You'd 
like to give him a passionate Cherchez to exonerate him from blame. 
OK. Fine. We can do that. No problem. <a malicious grin starts 
spreading slowly over Charis's face-- no, not mischievous. Malicious! 
A—he,he,he,he,he!>-- Peter can have his girl all right. And what a 
girl too! Dead sexy, heavy eye—lidded, black gowned. . . 

Elkins comments on 
>Peter's otherwise seemingly-
>uncharacteristic malice in the muggle-blasting incident.
>He's not usually a particularly malicious <she says>
>person, nor a vengeful one.  We've never once seen him take any 
other 
>violent action that is not either commanded or absolutely necessary 
>to ensure his own survival.

Oh, haven't we? Oh, * haven't* we I say? What if as early as Hogwarts 
he exemplified his innocent—preying nature, if indeed in secret? He 
occasionally engaged in a little hex—hurling maybe? Against nosy, 
dimm girls who caught him behind the greenhouses?

Pettigrew had a secret affair with Florence Lestrange.

Oh, yes! Why, who else could it be? Who else do we know who has a 
penchant for weedy, little S.Y.C.O.P.H.A.N.T.S.? Who else was a 
brooding, Dark follower since Hogwarts? Who else could easily twist 
little Peter into turning spy? Florence Lestrange recruited Peter 
into the DE ranks. He was more than eager to follow of course, but 
lacked the guts to seek Voldemort out himself. She brought him in 
contact with the Dark Lord and forced him to cultivate his evil 
Darkness.

A—BWA,HA,HA,HA,HA,HA,HA!!!

In case you're wondering, of course their love was Clandestine. 
Sirius be afraid to admit a Slytherin girlfriend to his friends? 
Noooo! But Peter? It goes without saying I think. They never told a 
soul and just to make their cover—up more effective Florence ordered 
Lestrange to marry her.

Elkins writes:
>How did Sirius find Peter so 
>quickly after the Potters' deaths?  Peter *wanted* to be 
>found, you see.  He was just *dying* to get some payback for Sirius 
>stealing his girl back when they were sixteen years old.

Yes, of course Peter wanted to be caught by Sirius that night. No, 
not for payback over old girlfriend. It was his only chance of 
survival. Sirius was witness against him. He had to go. And Peter 
needed an alibi, too, and an effective disappearance. But do you 
think he came up with this elaborate plan himself? Silly, little 
Peter? No, it was Flo who thought it up. Scheming, ingenious, nasty 
Flo. For Pettigrew ran straight to her after Voldemort was destroyed. 
He was terrified, petrified! "What to do? What to do, Flosie, dear?" 
She gave him a good hard slap on each cheek and handed her orders 
out. Then, taking her master's wand she rounded up two more DE and 
headed off to find Frank Longbottom. The Cruciatus curse was cast 
using that very wand (hence the horrible result—it isn't any wand 
that can do that. You need a really strong one.) When the Magical Law 
Enforcement Squad came and rounded them up it was young Crouch who 
happened to be holding it. And he never let go of it, ever. Not in 
Azkaban, not when he returned home, never. Until, 13 years later, the 
Dark Lord came to find him and demand his help in a plot to resurrect 
him to power.


And that's about it I think.

>-- Elkins, wading wearily back to shore while muttering darkly to 
>herself: "Never.  Never again.  Never again will I set foot on 
>someone else's SHIP.  Never again am I leaving land.  Never, never, 
>never, never, never..."

That's all right. No offence taken or anything. But thanks for the 
canons. And glad we could give you a ride.

Oh, and thanks for the laughter too. `Cos I really was howling over 
your post. Did me good!

Charis Julia waves wildly as the E.L.G.I.N.M.A.R.B.L.E.S. pulls away 
from the shore, a seriously exited bunny clapping it's hands at her 
side. Still smiling she glances down at it. "What, you're still 
here?" She frowns. She growls. She smirks. As the ship disappears 
round a cliff a sickening plop reaches Elkins ears.

BWA,HA,HA,HA,HA,HA,HA!!!