TBAY: Grief Management

[abigailnus]

No: HPFGUIDX 58369


Abigail scanned the deserted TBAY street, wrapping her cloak around herself for warmth.  
In better days it would have been bustling with theorists ambling to and fro, stopping to 
gawk at various monuments or to good-naturedly lob rotten vegetables at those whose 
theories they found particularly objectionable.  All gone.  Shops had been boarded shut, 
their doors hung with hastily scrawled signs promising the owners' swift return when the 
storm had abated.  Abigail wondered if there would be anything to come back to.

She had no time for morbid thoughts, however.  The dorms on Canon College had been 
shut down, the semester cancelled.  She needed a place to stay for the night.  Gazing out 
at the Bay, Abigail considered returning to her berth on the Imperius!Arthur trimaran.  It 
was a risky move, venturing aboarding a ship, even one supported by a triple canon, so 
close to Hurricane Jo's arrival.  Well, there was no point in deciding tonight.  The 
trimaran wasn't moored, and no one would be willing to sail Abigail to it at this time of 
night.  Shivering, Abigail walked on.  She needed to get inside quickly.  She made her 
way to the Royal George where, sure enough, she could see the glow of friendly lights.  
And hear raised voices.

Abigail sighed contentedly.  Some things never change.  

She entered quietly, trying to ensure as little of the cold and fog seeped into the warm, 
well-lit room.  An ominous cloud of white smoke hung motionless in the still air, the 
ventilation system whirring pointlessly in the background.  A clutch of theorists sat in 
straightback chairs facing the bar, balancing small plates of cheap snacks on their knees, 
their sharp eyes darting suspiciously at their neighbors.  Abigail recognized Pippin, 
Eileen, Derannimer, Dicentra and several Elkinses.  And also Cindy, rising slowly from her 
chair and lumbering to the make-shift plywood podium near the bar.  She reached for a 
pitcher of tepid water and poured it into her glass, her hands shaking only slightly, and 
took a small sip.  Placing her glass carefully on the tottering podium, she finally looked 
up at the crowd.  "My name is Captain Cindy, and I'm a Rage-aholic."

"HELLO, CINDY!" boomed the theorists in unison.

Pouring herself a cup of tepid coffee, Abigail settled in a chair in the back row.  George 
was slowly coaxing from Cindy the reason for her presence at the meeting.  Haltingly, 
Cindy admitted she feared that something about OOP would make her really mad.

"OoP isn't even released yet, and already I'm getting ticked off."   Cindy said glumly.  
"Just the other day, I read in the Wall Street Journal that JKR is *not* going to tour the 
U.S. to promote OoP.  What is up with *that?*  She takes three years to write the darn 
book, and then she can't be bothered to leave her mansion and hop in her private jet and 
chat for 10 minutes with Connie Chung?"

Abigail stood up so fast she spilled coffee over herself.  "You can't be serious!"  She 
cried.

"Abigail!"  George exclaimed.  "I know you've never been to one of these meetings 
before, but do try to avoid such harsh language!  We are not here to judge each other."

"The hell we aren't!"  Abigail insisted, walking up to the podium, wagging her finger 
directly in Cindy's face.  "I hardly think it necessary to remind you, Cindy, that JKR has a 
baby at home who is not yet three months old.  Is this really the time for a nursing 
mother, whose child is probably not even sleeping through the night, to hop a jet over 
the atlantic and add jet lag to her troubles?  Is this the healthy thing to do, for either the 
mother or the child?"  

The room was silent.  Cindy's gaze was fixed on Abigail's finger, and something about 
that gaze made Abigail wish very hard that the offending digit were a completely 
seperate entity from herself.  George delicately inserted himself between the two women, 
deftly pulling Abigail away.

"Do I have to remind you, Abigail," he hissed, dragging her back to her seat, "that this is 
a group of *rage-aholics*?  And that that is Captain Cindy speaking?"  He drew a 
handkerchief from the pocket of his waistcoat and dabbed at his sweaty face.  "If you 
really have no concern for your personal safety, at least consider how delicate this 
process is.  Cindy was making such progress."

Abigail glowered, but proffered a half-hearted apology and promised to keep to her 
seat.

George returned to Cindy, already looking longingly at the door and the umbrella rack 
where, Abigail now recalled, she had seen a decidedly big-looking paddle.  Somehow, 
however, George was working his magic.  Cindy returned to the podium and began 
speaking again.  What she said next, however, sent ripples of shock through the crowd.

 "I think JKR is going to *BOTCH* OoP!  How about *that* for a reason to be angry?"
 
A horrified gasp filled the room, and one theorist raced out the side door, her trembling 
hand covering her mouth.  George frantically tried to keep the remaining theorists in 
their seats.  When the mayhem ended, he found Abigail standing, her hand reaching for 
the ceiling.  Gingerly, he motioned her to speak.

Abigail nodded her thanks.  "I would just like to compliment Cindy on her honesty, and 
tell her that I feel the same way.  However, I think I can offer a word of hope.  I don't 
know how long Cindy has been reading Harry Potter, but I've been a fan since before PoA 
came out, and I remember very well the hype preceeding GoF.  I was in agony during the 
weeks before that book arrived, terrified that JKR would drop the ball.  As you all know, 
she didn't, and I think that with that she earned our trust.  I know that we often claim 
otherwise on this group, but this is JKR's world, and she does know what she's doing.  
We should have faith in her - she hasn't steered us wrong yet."

Abigail sat down, while George lead the group in some short-lived applause.  Cindy, 
however, seemed less than convinced.

"But," she insisted, leaning her elbows on the podium, which rocked dangerously under 
her considerable weight.  "I think OoP will suffer from 'Low Hanging Fruit Syndrome'!"

"Low Hanging Fruit Syndrome?" Amanda echoed blankly.

"That's right," Cindy said.  "OoP will be filled with wonderful opportunities for JKR to do 
the unexpected.  But she won't.  She'll go for the safe bet.  The easy way out.  *The Low 
Hanging Fruit.*  We have a situation where JKR seems to have set he obvious, and I'm 
thinking she is just going to go for the obvious.  Like MemoryCharm!Neville.  It would be 
so much more daring and interesting for her to go with ReverseMemoryCharm!Neville or 
one of the other complex Neville theories.  But she won't, will she?  You know she won't.  
She'll give us MemoryCharmButtKicking!Neville, who is as *PREDICTABLE* as he can 
possibly be!" she shrieked.

"Hmmpf."  Came a sound from the back row.

"Abigail, you have something to add to this discussion?"  George asked sweetly.

Abigail stood again.  "I'm just wondering how exactly Cindy is defining obvious.  I never 
considered MemoryCharm!Neville until I came to this group.  I certainly don't think that 
it's obvious that we're seeing a Memory Charm at work on him - bloody likely, yes, but 
obvious?  Of course, if the choice is between MemoryCharm!Neville and 
ReverseMemoryCharm!Neville, the former is obvious, since the latter is, you know, 
completely bereft of canon, but on its own?  Certainly, we can't assume that it is obvious 
that any sort of Memory Charm theory will be introduced in GoF."

"But that's only an example" Cindy howled, "Mrs. Figg will be Good!  Real Moody will be 
Good!   Hagrid will be Good to the bitter end!  If JKR takes the Low Hanging Fruit, I will 
scream a long and deadly scream that will pierce the walls of her big ol' Scottish 
mansion!  And then I will throw my book straight into George's fireplace!  But it will do 
no good.   Because OoP will already be *RUINED!*"

"Hmmpf."  From Abigail again.  Then she smiled.  "So, what you're really hoping to see in 
OOP is MAGIC DISHWASHER?"

Cindy stared at her, speechless.

"I mean, most theorists around here agree that it is the least likely theory on the Bay."  
Abigail continued, smiling innocently.  "Even the MDDT claim that there will probably 
never be support for MD in canon.  If what you really want is for JKR to go for the least 
obvious choice, then you must really be hoping that MD pans out."

Cindy was silent.

"I thought not."  Abigail said, walking once more to the front of the room.  "This isn't 
really about what's obvious, is it?  ReverseMemoryCharm!Neville is your baby, Cindy.  
And you don't want it taken away from you."

Cindy looked away.  Abigail couldn't swear to it, but she thought she saw moisture on 
her face.

"I understand completely."  She said softly.  "We've had a wonderful time these last three 
years.  I know we've all complained and whined and practically salivated for OOP, but it 
was nice, wasn't it?  To have to Potterverse to ourselves?  To play around in it and invent 
a million different theories, each more improabable then the one before.  I mean, look 
around you."  She gestured at the saloon, and at the world beyond.  "What is TBAY, after 
all, if not the furthest extreme of appropriating JKR's world for ourselves."  She pointed 
at George and Avery.  "We even created our own characters!  We made ourselves the 
writer.  We second-guessed, we interpreted JKR's every word and punctuation mark, we 
criticized her motives and methods, we said 'I would do it this way', and then we said 
'this is how it should happen'.  There's nothing wrong with all of this.  Some of what we 
said is true - heaven knows there are theories that I consider too obvious - LOLLIPOPS, 
Vampire!Snape, Harry as the Heir of Gryffindor - which I suspect will turn out to be true.  
But now the fun is over.  The writer is coming back for her own, and as she builds a new 
world for us to play in, she will destroy our delicate, lovingly- crafted creations."

"We have two choices.  We can retreat further into our own version of the Potterverse - 
isn't that what fanfic is all about, after all?  Or, we can accept JKR's gift with love.  When 
the storm blows over, there will be a great deal of destruction, but JKR is bountiful,  She 
will give us new bricks with which to build a bigger, better TBAY.  And face it, isn't it 
time?"

Abigail looked around, meeing each theorist's eye in turn.  "Haven't we been repeating 
ourselves long enough?  Isn't it time for new ideas, born of new canon?"

The room was silent.  Every theorist seemd lost in his or her own thougths.  None looked 
too happy.  Abigail walked over to George, glumly pondering his own mortality.  She 
tugged at his sleeve.  "George, you have a dingy you use for deliveries, don't you?"

He nodded silently.  Abigail drew a deep breath, and said, "Do you think I could take it?  I 
need to get to the trimaran."

"But,"  he sputtered, "what you just said... You know what's coming, you know your 
odds."

"I do."  Abigail said.  "But Auror!Arthur is my creation, and I supported Imperius!Arthur 
when the weather was fair.  I can't leave them now.  If I'm wrong, I'm wrong, and I'll get 
wet.  I trust JKR.  This is her story, it belongs to her and she'll steer us true, but those 
thoeries are mine.  True or false, I made them, or helped to, and nothing can take that 
away from me."

Abigail
Who would like to offer an apology if anyone found this post too maudlin or weird, and a 
special apology for Cindy if I've misrepresented her motives, and for making her TBAY 
self cry.