Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Transposition

or

. . .

Disclaimer: Don't own Worm. Don't own Harry Potter. Didn't invent the Worm/HP crossover, but I did write this one.

Like Pinky and the Brain I'm keeping this to a T rating, which I interpret as "Nothing I haven't seen on over-the-air network TV."

~*T*~

Taylor woke up, bereft and alone, cold, wrapped in a single threadbare blanket, with no sign of her wives, in a bed that was much too small, and in the wrong spot - she stubbed her fingertips on the wood-paneled wall patting the cold bed in the forlorn hope she'd find Amy or Lisa there.

She forced herself up to her knees, bashing her head into the low stepped roof. She scratched her hand on a nail poking out of it when she went to rub the sore spot, and hissed a bit.

She sucked on her bleeding hand, sat on her heels, and looked about for her glasses in the small, dark room. She finally saw a glint of light, and patted for it. The glasses had thick black frames and round lenses, but she put them on anyway. Her passenger was still there, but her range was tiny, just a little bigger than the house she was in. The fire, and her alternate form as Nanagou, was missing. Worse, her tail was missing, the two-thirds of an entity that should be connected to the base of her spine . . . wasn't.

Her belly clenched, her stomach roiled, shoulders hunched, her breath shortened. She recognized the symptoms, forced her shoulders back, "I took down Lung. I survived, blinded, beaten, and escaped a burning building in the middle of a gunfight. I'm less strong, but I am not weak." Her range flared under her determination, encompassing the houses on three sides, and the street in front. The shame retreated, and she turned her attention to the rest of the room she found herself in.

Three walls were straight up and down, and the last stair stepped up to being the roof. The mattress under her on had no frame, but it did have a fitted flannel sheet, and there was another blanket, slid off the edge onto the floor.

The door had slats, and, on the edge closer to her, a lever in a slot. Taylor sighed, and crossed her arms over her chest, "This is some real Roald Dahl shit, huh, Taylor?" She asked, having noticed instantly, but ignored for now, the fact that her bosom was a lot flatter than it had been, not that it was all that much to begin with. She took in a deep breath, let it out, and opened the door in search of a bathroom.

It was upstairs, and Taylor used the toilet, noted the different tackle and lack of pubic hair, and finally looked at herself in the mirror as she rinsed off her clean hands.

The green eyes were pretty, the short black hair adorably tousled, but would look much nicer a bit longer, the face prepubescently androgynous. The scar on her forehead looked fresh, maybe a few months old, still bright pink and inflamed, a jagged zigzag. She grinned Nono's grin at herself, missing the fire, but able, if not ready, to take on the world.

She clattered down the stairs and into the back yard. With a sigh, she started. First she checked her flexibility, which sucked worse than it ever had before. Her forms were just as bad, proportions wrong, balance funny, limbs not moving right. Strength and endurance were lacking, too, thirty push ups and twenty frog-hops to muscle failure. She lay on her back for a minute before she got up and started some static cool-down stretches, barely managing to get her fingertips over her toes, forehead nowhere near her knees. The other way was worse, and her splits . . .

She pulled her legs in, rose to a standing position, arms crossed, "Lots of work to do."

That work, apparently, included cooking breakfast for a whale, a heron, and a pony. Luckily she knew what they wanted, where it was kept, and how they liked it. Unluckily, she also remembered why she knew that.

And her new body's name: Harry Potter.

~*T*~

Notes: Since this was a common question in the reviews: This Taylor is almost the one from my story Pinky and the Brain. Amy made a couple choices differently, but the main flow of events was the same.

Chapter Text

~*T*~

Harry woke up, tucked into a warm bed, neck cricked from a too-tall pillow, another pillow pulled into his arms, cuddled tight where Luna or Hermione should be. A wandless summoning charm grabbed for his wand even as he rolled out of bed, already feeling foolish as he crouched, nightgown dangling around his thighs, looking around the unfamiliar room, the single twin bed, small desk, little bookcase. The feeling of being a fool washed away as panic surged, his summoning spell fizzling in that particular way that marked trying to summon something that didn't exist.

The peculiar feeling of being himself, and, the number came impossibly easily, 3981 others at the same time, did not help at all.

His breath quickened, a frantic buzzing coming from all around as the rest of him freaked out, too, even as he got bigger, encompassed the closest 42 houses.

"Taylor? Are you OK?" a male voice called up the stairs.

Harry held his breath a moment, forcing calm, before he replied, "I'm fine."

He straightened with a sigh, and headed for the bathroom. A sniff of an armpit, and he sheds the pale-blue overlong t-shirt, glancing at himself in the mirror after he noted the breasts, a good bit smaller than Luna's. Soft, young face, slender, but enough fat to hide the ribs, wild black hair, but more 17-year-old Hermione than 11-year-old. His glasses are rounded trapezoid shapes, with thin frames. He couldn't remember if he put them on or if he woke up wearing them.

He shed his grey panties and climbed into the shower to wash off the fear sweat.

Once the water was adjusted, he concentrated on the joyous memory of Hermione and Luna in his lap, kissing,"Expecto Patronum!"

His long-legged weasel patronus, (Hermione said it was a wolverine, but Luna said it was a honey badger, Harry was just happy it didn't remind him of Snape) formed in front of him, prowled about the bathtub a moment before phantom claws tore phantom holes into his flesh as it climbed up onto his shoulder. It gave him a weaselly grin, waiting.

"I'm fine, I'm a girl, I attend Winslow, I don't have a wand," He paused, "I love you," he said, chest clenching.

His patronus jumped from his shoulder and vanished through the wall. His heart unclenched, and he let the tears of relief flow, hidden by the shower, and soaped up.

His dad, Danny, had breakfast waiting when he got downstairs, dressed in black jeans, a little tighter than he liked with useless girl pockets, and a black t-shirt that showed off the definition of his arms and de-emphasized the roundness of his belly.

His heart clenched, and he blinked the sudden rush of sad-happy-grateful back, and gathered the taller, skinny man into a hug, "Thank you."

"You're welcome?" he said, hugging him back.

"My girls are always telling me to practice gratitude," Harry answered, resting his head on the man's chest, feeling strangely safe in a way that he hadn't since Sirius hugged him, Christmas of fifth year.

"Your girls? Emma and?"

"No, you haven't met them," he sighs, "Hopefully soon. Emma turned into a complete asshole when she hooked up with Sophia Hess. They put me in the locker."

"Your girls?" he asked, tensing in her arms.

Harry hugged him tighter, "Of course not, Emma, Sophia, and Madison."

He tried to pull away, "I'm going to-"

Harry shook his head, not letting go, "Do nothing. One or more of them has the school in their pocket. They're going to be famous, soon, but not yet."

"What do you mean?"

"I have a feeling they'll be overreaching, soon."

"Will you be OK?"

"I'll be fine," Harry pulled back with a smile, "They failed to kill me, so now it's time for me to win."

"That's not how it works, Taylor."

"That's how it always works, dad," Harry said, "'And, my friends, in this story you have a history of this entire movement. First they ignore you. Then they ridicule you. And then they attack you and want to burn you. And then they build monuments to you. And that, is what is going to happen to the Amalgamated Clothing Workers of America.' Nicholas Klein."

"Sometimes they build you monuments because you are dead."

"Often," Harry nods, "But I'm pretty hard to kill."

"A lot of my guys are pretty good fighters," Danny starts.

Harry nods, "Let me talk to my girls, but I think that sounds like a good idea."

~*T*~

Notes: Harry isn't from a story I've written yet. Luna was a little braver, showed a little more vulnerability, and both Harry and Hermione responded.

Chapter Text

~*T*~

"Mrs. Figg's broken her leg," the heron repeated, having already told Harry the week before, "So she can't watch you."

"I'm ten. I can watch myself here, or make myself scarce somewhere else," Taylor said, calmly.

"Or you can come with us and not make trouble."

"I end trouble, I don't start it," Taylor said, smiling.

The heron blinked down at her.

"Keep your little pony away from me at the zoo, or give me the five quid you'd pay to get me in, and I'll stay out of your hair until tomorrow."

"If you get picked up by the police we won't get you until Monday."

"That's fine," Taylor held out her hand.

The heron handed her a five pound note, "Be back after church tomorrow."

Taylor gave her a lazy salute, "Roger," and started out the door.

~*i*~

Taylor walked along, smiling at the passerby, who cringed gratifyingly and got out of her way, and mapped her new neighborhood, filling in what Harry remembered with her prioperception, cellars, storm and septic sewers, the layouts of the houses, which vary more than the outsides. As she walked, she pondered, wondering how she would find Amy and Lisa, if they were even here with her, and her age. If they were in England, they were still two out of millions, in any of a thousand little towns, and there was no internet, well, there was, but it was tiny. She spotted a newspaper, rolled, on a porch, no, front step, and smiled.

She walked up to the door, knocked, waited, knocked again, then sat down, took the rubber band off, and flipped through the paper, looking for the classifieds, then the personals, women seeking, "Amy is looking for Taylor and Lisa, please call, 01293 438000" *note: this is the Crawley Borough Council number in real life

She straightened the paper out, rolled it back up, and put the rubber band back before she left it on the step where she found it, stretched, and went in search of a pay phone.

~*i*~

"Hello?" an older woman answers the phone.

"Yes, this is Taylor, and I'm calling for Amy?"

"Hermione?"

Taylor blinks, then nods, "Maybe? We're pen-pals and she asked me to call."

"Hermione!" the other end is muffled, like there is a hand over the microphone, "Taylor's on the phone!"

Even more muffled, "Really! Already?! Don't let her hang up!"

"You hear that?" the other woman asked a bit of a laugh in her voice.

"I did."

"I think this is the first time she's had a friend call, ever."

"Ouch. Could you give her a hug for me?"

"Sure," and there was a real chuckle this time.

The phone was handed over, and Amy squeaked, startled by something. "Taylor?" she asked.

"Hey pretty lady. Sounds like you're ten, too."

"Eleven, twelve in September, but who's counting."

"Sure. I'll be eleven at the end of the month."

"Awesome, you'll probably get a letter from Hogwarts, too."

"Hogwarts?"

"Magic school."

"Interesting."

"Yeah, I've got an appointment to get my school stuff Thursday of next week, wanna meet up?"

"Sure, where at?"

"King's Cross station, in London, Pancras Road west side entrance."

"I'll be there. How's your family this time? I got a heron, the whale she married, and the pony they spawned. The heron's my aunt."

"A pair of dentists, in the Little Shop of Horrors mold. It's lovely."

"Not used to hugs?"

"Not from adults, no."

~*i*~

"We really should at least have a convenience store in easy walking distance," Taylor grumbled, continuing the three mile trek to the closest fast food place, a Mosburger.

"Why," Taylor asked the manager while she waited for her burger on a bun of pressed rice, "Do you have a Japanese chain restaurant in Surrey?"

"Because the Author loves you, and wants you to be happy."

"Have you been talking to Amy?"

"No, I don't think so. Actually, the owner visited one in Japan, and thought it was amazing. We're totally an unlicensed knockoff, really."

"Hmm."

Taylor took her burger when it was ready, sat at a table with a clear view out the window and of the door, her back to a wall, and ate it slowly, sipping her water.

~*i*~

Taylor sat in the swing, feet dangling, further from the Dursley house than the rumors about Harry had spread.

A smile curled her lips, watching the young mothers talking and the little kids at play. She looked at her left hand, palm facing away, fingers spread out flat, "Yeah, it'll be a bit longer now, won't it," she sighed, one corner of her mouth pulling down, then relaxing, "More time with my wives, and we'll be all grown up again before long at all."

Even so her hands clenched tighter on the swing chains as a screaming baby quieted suddenly, surprised and distracted by the nipple before sucking greedily. The baby's mother stroked his, he was in yellow, so Taylor was guessing, hair, smiling. The baby squirmed, protesting the distraction. Taylor hopped off the swing and left the park.

~*i*~

Taylor woke as her concrete bed shook under the load of an artic, looked up at the underside of the road above her, and sighed, "Add this to the list of things that sound better in theory than practice," shifted position, and tried to go back to sleep.

The concrete sucked the heat from her slight body, and the lack of blankets didn't help, but the little cubby under the bridge was dry and out of the wind.

"Could be worse," she grumbled, and turned over again, onto her right side, pillowed her head on her arm, tucked her other hand between her knees, and went still again.

~*T*~

Chapter Text

~*T*~

Harry was most of the way to school when a paper airplane dove down the front of his shirt.

He put his back against a convenient building, and unfolded the letter:

"Harry James Granger Lovegood Potter," the letter started, without even a "Dear."

"Female's interesting, wandless matches me, but is annoying. Fine is not nearly descriptive enough. Please use the checklist below to clarify, check all that apply:

[ ] Emotionally distressed
[ ] Broken bone[s]

[ ] arm
[ ] leg
[ ] other

[ ] bleeding
[ ] bruises
[ ] other [elaborate]

I attend Arcadia, had a massive crush on my adoptive sister, which she's fucking clueless about, and cuss. A lot.

Luna hasn't gotten in touch with me yet, but I'm sending her a note when I send this one.

Call me Amy."

Harry nodded to himself, checked the boxes labeled "Emotionally distressed" and "other," then wrote "missing my girls terribly," under it.

He then crossed out Amy, and wrote in "Ishmael." He clicked his pen in, then back out again, and added "My name is Taylor."

Pen back in pocket, he folded the paper back into an airplane, and it flew off to the southwest.

A block from the school Harry stopped, watching the buses arrive, and the kids get off. They look so young. At last the girl he's looking for arrives, and he yells her name, "Sophia, so glad to see ya."

The tall, slender girl startles, turned to look, "What do you want, Hebert?"

"I want you to come over here and throw the first punch, arsehole."

Sophia crossed her arms, tilted her head a little to the side, "Why would I do that?"

"Because otherwise you admit you're a coward, afraid to pick on a girl smaller than you without a pair of cling-ons and the teachers ready to take your side," Harry waved her closer, palms up, "Are you brave enough? Or are you a weak little girl, scared not only of your shadow, but of me?"

"You're not worth my time," Sophia turned to go.

"No? We know you can't leave me alone for some reason. The whole school knows. Is the problem that you're a coward, who'll only enter a fight you've already rigged? Or is it that you have a crush on me, and are trying to show it like a little boy pulling a little girl's hair?"

"What did you say?" Sophia growled, turned back.

"You should bring me frogs or something, instead of tripping me in the halls and ruining my schoolwork, if you want to do the little-boy courtship."

"I'm not courting you."

"Really. Rebecca Schaeffer ring any bells, miss stalker?"

"What did you say?"

"I called you a dangerous lunatic."

Sophia growled, dropped her backpack, and started across the street without looking.

HONK blared the car's horn while it's brakes squeaked, then came to a stop inches from Sophia, who didn't even turn to look at it.

"So, one free shot, coward."

Sophia took it, a hard right jab to the ribs.

Harry faded with the blow, struck up with his right palm toward's Sophia's chin. She jerked aside, taking a glancing blow to the cheekbone.

Harry stepped forward, stomping his left foot down flat behind and to the outside of Sophia's right, striking up with his left palm even as he grabbed her left shoulder and pulled.

She swept the blow aside with her right hand, stumbled off balance, but not falling.

Harry smiled, another step forward, another right palm aimed at her chin, another block.

Sophia curled, hands going to her crotch, while Harry planted his foot, grabbed the back of her neck, and brought her face down into his other knee.

He let her fall to the ground, and took a step back.

The secretary and the security guard looked both ways before crossing the street.

"You're going to be expelled for fighting at school!" the secretary pointed at Harry.

"I don't think so," Harry answered, "She didn't get expelled for pushing me down stairs, vandalizing my locker, or trying to kill me on school property, so I don't think you can expel me for defending myself off school property."

"You were baiting her!"

"Really? And it's my fault that she took the bait?"

"She's black! It's a hate crime!"

"It's perfectly legal to hate someone because they are an arsehole."

"But she was a disadvantaged youth."

"Look at her clothes, she's better off than I am."

Sophia groaned, pushed weakly at the ground.

"Come on, arsehole, these two idiots are going to leave you here," Harry said, pulling the taller girl's arm over his shoulder, "Let's get you to the nurse's office," and stood up, looking both ways before starting across the street.

The secretary and the security guard followed along behind.

~*i*~

"Yer a good un," Sophia slurred while Harry supported her to the nurses office, "Too much respect for authority, shoulda kicked my ass ages ago."

"Quite often," Harry paused, "It's rarely a good idea to get into a fight you can't win. When fighting humans submitting is a fairly reliable way to survive, and you can't continue the fight if you're dead."

"So you were just waiting for the right time to befriend me?"

Harry blinked at her, then nodded, "That's a way to look at it."

"I totally missed the knee to the crotch. Good shot, totally distracted me from the fight," she hugged Harry firmly about the shoulders.

Harry looked at her sideways, "Thank you."

"Good job getting me off school property and pissed off, too, gotta control the fight as much as you can."

"You almost got hit by a car."

"That's fine, don't worry about me in traffic."

"OK."

~*T*~

Chapter Text

~*T*~

Taylor waited for the wash of blue light clinging to every surface around her to fade, then teleported to another sunny spot, closer to the station. The light was almost hidden, nearly invisible in the direct sun, faint in the shadows, but obvious.

That, she figured, was how they knew it was Harry's fault when he teleported at school.

Working line-of-sight was faster than walking, and kept people from noticing her appear, or disappear, out of nowhere in a wash of heatless blue flame. Roof to roof, tree to tree, ten to thirty seconds a jump, as little as a half mile, or as much as ten at a time, she traversed the suburbs of London, into its dark heart.

She walked the last couple blocks, got a soda from a kiosk, and sat down to wait.

~*i*~

"Amy?" Taylor greeted the bushy-haired girl, a little taller than she was, with gorgeous golden-brown eyes.

"Taylor!" Amy grabbed her up into a hug and swung her around in circles.

"Here you are!" and a flying tackle hug took them all to the ground.

Once she had her glasses back on, Taylor stared at the blue-eyed blonde who had them pinned, "Lisa."

That familiar vulpine grin spread under those slightly bulging blue eyes, and Taylor leaned up for a kiss.

She got a quick peck on the lips, as did Amy. Lisa's grin spread as Amy pinned Taylor's shoulders down, and kissed her soundly.

A throat is cleared, again, and this time Amy broke the kiss, then sat back on Taylor's hips. She wiped her lips with her hand, grinned down at the other two, "I missed you."

"We missed you too, Amy."

"Are you going to introduce your friends?" Hermione's mother asked.

"Obviously good friends," her father said.

"Oh," Hermione got to her feet, then helped the other two up, "Yes, this is Taylor," she gestured.

"Harry Potter," Taylor said, with a little curtsey, which was, as always, a bit funny-looking in trousers.

"And Lisa."

"Luna Lovegood," Lisa bowed, with a flourish of imaginary hat.

"Let's go," Amy said, then held out her left elbow.

Taylor tucked her hand under, and leaned against Amy's shoulder.

Lisa grabbed Taylor's free hand, and leaned into Taylor's shoulder as Amy led them all off.

~*i*~

"Good Morning," Lisa greeted the goblin behind the desk, who growled back. She clapped her hands and laughed.

"What'd'ya want?"

"To rule the world," Lisa answered, "But I'll settle for access to our vaults."

"Your vault, miss?"

"Lovegood. Luna Lovegood," Lisa said, giving the goblin a toothy grin, "My partners are Harry Potter and Hermione Granger. Potter has a vault, and I believe Granger has inherited one, due to the recent unpleasantness."

"You may well be right. Let us see if we can get your gold flowing, then," the goblin passed over a single black quill, and three pieces of parchment, which glitter with strange, almost invisible, golden letters, "Write your names."

"Given or chosen?"

The goblin laughs, "Either. It tells the spell what name to use for you and provides a blood sample that is matched against anyone who's ever signed an official document in Gringotts," He bustled about behind his counter, and set a box on top of it.

"Oh, nice," Lisa said, and signed "Luna Lovegood," before handing the quill to Taylor.

Taylor quickly signed "Taylor Potter," and passed the quill to Amy.

Amy signed "Amy Granger," and passed the quill back to the goblin, who put it away.

"Lovegood, you first," the goblin held out a hand for her parchment.

She handed it over, and he put it in the box, which made "tick-tock" noises for a minute before going "Bing."

He pulled the parchment out, set it down, and held out his hand for Taylor's parchment.

It is handed over, and he picked up Lisa's paper while the box ticked, "Lovegood: vault 712, restricted to 24 galleons a day; vault 333, unlimited access; vault 13, unlimited access."

He held out his hand for Amy's parchment even as he pulled Taylor's from the box. While the box ticked he read off, "Potter: vault 687, unlimited access; vault 19, unlimited access; vault 3, unlimited access."

He set that parchment down, and read the last, "Granger: vault 451, unlimited access."

He added the last parchment to the stack, and slid it to Lisa, "This will be eight galleons each."

"Take it from vault 712. We need to inspect our vaults before we order keys, or consolidate them. If we do not have the 14 knuts available after checking our vaults, I authorize two sickles from vault 712 tomorrow."

"Very well. Griphook! Vaults 712, 687, 451, 333, 19, 13, and 3."

Griphook blinked, pulled out a pad of paper, "Say again all after 712," he said, writing down that number.

"687, 451, 333, 19, 13, 3. Inspection. Collect 24 galleons from vault 712, that's the withdrawal limit there, no limits on the others."

Griphook nodded, "Understood," He looked at the two adults and three girls, "Come on."

~*T*~

Notes: In The Princess Bride Goldman has a point where he talks about how S. Morgenstern spent three pages talking about Buttercup's wardrobe, and how it was regarded as a great point of satire in the original, but was boring, so he elided it.

In similar vein, the visit to Gringotts and the shopping trip has been quite done to death, so here only the points of difference are left: Vault 712 is Xenophilius's vault, so Luna has restricted access ($1200/day in 1991 money, but they are very well off), but the others trickled down to these three as their late owners, and subsequent heirs, died in the recent unpleasantness. Per canon, the lower the vault number, the older the family.

And Vault 451 is a nod to Bradbury.

Chapter Text

~*T*~

A strange blonde, in a cute red dress, flounced into Harry's World Issues class, told Mr. Gladly, "I need Taylor Hebert," and gestured Harry to her, palm down. He started to pack up, waiting to see if she would have the rest of the passphrase.

"Why?"

"The aardvark said to bring her," He stood up at "aardvark," and started towards the door.

"Aardvark?" Gladly asked.

"Principle Blackwell, you wouldn't understand."

Gladly just nodded, unwilling to admit not understanding.

Luna had him spun around, back against the lockers opposite, before the door is entirely closed, and was kissing him before he could even say hello.

"Well, this is different," Luna said with a sigh, "I'd hoped being taller would put us closer to the same height, but you're even taller than before."

"Have you seen Hermione yet?"

"No, but she sent me a note, so I wrote her back."

"It's nice to see you, but I don't think you're a student here."

"Nope," Luna leaned in close, dropped her voice to almost inaudible, but didn't whisper, "You're holding the supervillian known as Tattletale."

"Wow," Harry stepped back, holding her by the shoulders, "Pretty spiffy."

"Isn't it?" Luna grinned a strange foxy grin.

Harry leaned in and kissed her again.

"Come along, let's go find Hermione."

Harry contemplated the last three, well, two and a half, classes of the day, shrugged, and held out his arm.

Luna wrapped her arm around his waist, tucked up against his hip, and led him down the hall. Harry stutter-stepped, then wrapped his arm around her shoulders, following.

"I can drive a car," Luna said.

"Oh dear."

"I drove a big white van here."

"Oh dear."

"I ordered a big sticker that says 'Free Candy' for it."

"You didn't."

"Of course I did."

"It already has a speaker set to play ice cream truck music."

Harry started giggling, which turned into a helpless cackle very quickly.

"You evil, evil woman," Luna said sadly, with a very cute pout.

"You know I love you madly, right?"

Luna looked him up and down, "I think you need to show me, in the back of my big white van."

"OK, after we pick up Hermione."

~*i*~

"We're looking for a Herman Grangler? He requested pick up and molestation?" Luna said into the van's microphone, and it promptly blared out over the crowd of students departing Arcadia High.

"No," Harry said into the mike, taking it from Luna, "That's Herm-i-on-e Granger, I'm sure."

"Granger, then," Luna took the mike back, "Please present yourself at the side door of the van for pickup and molestation."

A short, pretty, but normal looking girl with shoulder length brown hair banged on the side door with her fist, "You lot are the worst taxi company ever," she said loudly, "Pickup and transportation! Not pickup and molestation."

"Aww, we brought the van and everything," Luna said into the mike, smiling, "Pickup and transportation, then," she unkeyed the mike, then clicked it again, "We could include the molestation at no charge?"

Hermione took the mike, keyed it, "Just drive."

"Ryoukai!" Luna floored it, then put the van back in drive. The rear wheels chirped once, twice, then smoked the whole way to the first turn.

Harry flopped back into the passenger seat, and buckled up, with Hermione in his lap.

"This really isn't safe," Hermione complained, "I know far too much about motor vehicle accidents now, so slow the fuck down and let me get my own seatbelt."

Luna merged violently onto the highway out of town, then slowed to the speed limit in the right lane. Horns blared behind her, and she laughed as they passed her at a good thirty over the 55 speed limit, "Everyone drives 75 through here, they should just raise the speed limit to what people drive."

"That would make too much sense," Hermione said, buckled in her own seat, "You mentioned molestation?"

"Yeah, we're gonna go somewhere we won't be bothered for a few hours for that."

"Sounds good," Hermione said, before pulling out a cell phone and making a call, "Hello! This is Amy Dallon, I'm not going to be in until," she looked at Luna.

Luna held up her right hand, spread all of her fingers, closed them, then spread them again.

Hermione smiled, "About eight. I'll have two hours, so triage for that, please," she nodded, "That would be fine. Thank you. You too. I'll see you at eight."

"Two thirty plus ten hours is not eight," Luna said, with another cute pout.

"No, but I doubt any of us has enough stamina for even five hours right now, and I'll want some dinner before my shift."

"You're the healer Panacea, I have all the bugs, what do you have, Tattletale?"

"Sherlock Holmes has nothing on me. I can piece together minimal data into amazing rafts of information."

"Oh?" Harry asked.

"That green Subaru?" Luna pointed with her chin.

"Yes?" Hermione asked, leaning forward between the front seats.

"Manual transmission, three kid seats, hasn't been washed in months, owner's his, no, her own mechanic, has been really bad off in the past, isn't doing too hot right now, separated from her wife, driving to pick up the kids for a few weeks. Looks forward to playing with the kids, doesn't look forward to replacing her transmission mount, which is worn out and is making her shifts sloppy."

"All that from two cars back?"

"Yep," Luna sighed, downshifted, floored the accelerator, and passed the seven cars in front of her without signaling.

"The green Subaru's driver had short hair, beard stubble, and male pattern baldness," Harry reported, letting go of the panic handle on the dash.

"FTM?" Luna asked herself, "No, MTF, procrastinating, or non-op . . . " she shrugged, "I'd have to talk to her to tell."

~*T*~

Chapter Text

~*T*~

After many giggling calls of "Faster!" Griphook answered, "One speed only."

"That sucks!" Taylor called back.

Hermione's parents were huddled, wrapped it each others arms, eyes closed, on the back bench of the cart, and groaned as one at that claim.

Amy reached back and patted them on the head, "There there."

Lisa bit her knuckle to keep from laughing at them.

~*i*~

After looking through seven vaults of money, heirlooms, and other McGuffins, and much loading of pockets and stuffing of impossibly long, thick, hard (and sometimes throbbing) things in unreasonably tight places that they shouldn't fit, Harry counted out four galleons and twenty-four sickles, which he handed to Griphook.

"What's this for?" Griphook asked, even as he pocketed the coins.

"A tip, or gratuity, is used to show appreciation for the work performed. Generally it is 20% of what one paid for a meal, or in this case, 20% of our banking fees today."

"That sounds . . . profitable."

"It can be."

~*i*~

They shopped. Robes. Trunks. Owls. A funny orange cat. Books, books, and more books. Wands from a grubby little shop down a grubby little side street. Wands from a grubby little shop on the main drag. More books. Back down the grubby little side street for even more books. At last nothing more can be stuffed in unreasonably tight, but very stretchy, places, and the girls carried their last purchases out of the magical shopping arcade, which, to Taylor's mild disappointment, was not named Abenobashi.

"Miss Granger! We've been looking for you all day!" a tall, black-haired, severe-looking witch with lovely blue eyes greeted them.

"We ran into Luna, and she's taken us around for our shopping," Amy answered, with a bright smile, "We didn't see you, and thought you must have been distracted."

One of the boys in the witch's group made a break for it, disappearing into the pet shop.

"It's probably better we weren't with you, you seem to have your hands full already," Taylor said, smiling gently, "We'll see you at school."

"Ta ta for now," Luna agreed. She picked her cloth bag of books back up, and started toward the grimy pub at the entrance.

"Ta ta," she agreed, then led her gagglefuck of students to the pet store.

~*i*~

"What are we eating?"

"Fish and chips!" Taylor said, "Or curry. Standard British street food, but it's not anything I've ever had."

Amy nodded, "I want a lamb vindaloo."

"That sounds perfect," Luna agreed.

"How have you never had fish and chips?" Hermione's mother asked.

"I've had school fish and chips, but that's not the same."

"No, I don't suppose it would be."

~*i*~

Amy dragged all three of them into the latrine once they got back to King's Cross, pressed the shorter two into the back corner of a stall, and wrapped her arms around them, "So," she sighed, "Down to just our passengers?"

"Yup," Lisa said, popping her 'P' for emphasis. "No sign of the rest of our entities, so we shouldn't have to worry about random parahumans popping up. Wizarding World crazies are going to be enough trouble all by themselves."

"Oh?" Taylor asked.

"That scar? You got it when a magical terrorist leader tried to kill you, and faked his death."

"Oh, that's lovely," Amy sighed, hugged them tighter.

"It gets better. Most of them claimed they were mastered, and served no time, nor suffered any real fines. One of them owns the current Minister of Magic.

"Where does he live?"

"The Minister?"

"The terrorist with him in his pocket."

"Wiltshire, somewhere."

"Find out more exactly, please."

"Ryoukai."

"You guys learn any cool magic yet? Hermione could change the color of clothes," Amy sighed, "She'd teleported once, but didn't work on that once she knew about magic."

"Harry did too. I have to really work myself up to manage it so far."

Lisa laughed, "Not only can I teleport, but I can read minds."

"So we can interrogate the terrorist instead of just killing him without warning?"

"Probably,"

"Good."

"Taylor," Lisa actually blushed, then scratched the side of her nose, "Maybe I am interested. It's really weird. I want the cuddling and closeness, but I'm almost entirely not horny."

"That's a way to put it," Taylor laughed, "Almost entirely."

"Your scar has a mind," Lisa frowned, chewing on her lip, "And he's all sorts of pissed off."

"Well, that's no good," Amy said, "Pull him off?" she asked, feeling for Taylor's physical state. She hissed, "What happened to you?"

"Normal childhood bumps and scrapes, with normal 1750s treatment, and not enough food."

"Huh. May I fix that?"

"Let's wait until after we start school."

"No, we should leave the chunk of magical terrorist for a bit," Lisa answered the earlier question, "I think we can find something fun to do with him."

"I guess this is where we part," Taylor sighed, rubbing her face against Amy's shoulder.

"We should go to Hermione's house, so then we can teleport back."

"That sounds good," Taylor nodded.

"I'm pretty sure we can have a bath together and share my bed, but we'll have to keep it down."

"Are you sure? I might have outed us to your dad."

"It's probably fine," Amy said, "I think he thinks there's no chances of accidental pregnancies this way."

"What?" Taylor pulled back to look into Amy's face.

"Yeah, same sex accidental pregnancies are a thing here," Lisa agreed.

"That's," Taylor paused, "Kinda cool, I guess, but inconvenient."

"I know," Amy drew out the second word to about three syllables.

~*T*~

Note: You may have noticed a trend, of characters going on very detailed shopping trips, which talk up rafts of things they buy. Rafts of things that are never mentioned again.

I'd probably be more interested in these trips if they were used to explore the abused and deprived character's emotional reaction to being well-to-do, but I haven't seen that yet.

Chapter Text

~*T*~

Harry brushed Luna's long, sweaty, blonde hair back from her face, "Your eyes are impossibly green. That's really pretty."

Luna laughed in his face, "Now you notice."

"Um, boy," he said, then groaned as Hermione groped something that isn't a normal boy-part.

"Really?" Hermione asked.

"Yep."

~*i*~

"So," Hermione started, looked at Harry.

Harry blinked, "Ara."

Luna fell about laughing, "And now you notice, again."

"Notice what?" Hermione asked.

"Your eyes are golden."

"No, they're not."

"They kinda are."

"Humans don't have golden eyes."

"Look in the mirror."

Hermione turned to do just that, and Harry grabbed her bare shoulder, "Clothes?" he said.

"There's no one out here," Hermione said, looking to Luna for confirmation.

"If you say so," Luna said, in her sweetest, gentlest, you're-totally-wrong voice.

Hermione sighed, and started looking for her trousers, eventually finding them, and her phone, "Already six? How far out of town are we?"

"About an hour at the speed limits, twenty minutes if I drive like Harry flies."

Hermione's lips tightened, then she sighed, "Let's get cleaned up, I'm hungry."

Luna dug out an industrial-sized bag of baby wipes, and they barely managed to keep from getting distracted while they cleaned up, but eventually they were dressed. Harry and Hermione pulled deodorant from their bags, and Luna laughed at them.

"Some people," Hermione started.

"Don't like anyone to know they had any fun," Luna took over, "Your hair's mussed and sweaty, and you're smiling at everything."

"That doesn't mean they know," Hermione said, pulling a hairbrush from her bag.

Harry took the brush from her, and started brushing Hermione's hair.

"Considering Amy's rep as "the cape most likely to go postal," at Winslow," Harry teased gently, working his way up from the ends of Hermione's hair.

A minute later he handed the brush back, "Done already?" Hermione asked with a sigh.

"Your hair's like you used sleakeasy's on it," Harry said, "I think I've got the crazy hair this time."

"Let me see," Hermione started brushing Harry's hair, also from the ends, continued after a few strokes of the brush, "Yep, fifth-year hair, little less fine, so it shouldn't tangle as much, but we should put it up before we have sex."

"You really seemed to enjoy pulling it, though," Harry said, leaning into her.

"It is so long," Hermione said.

"And poofy!" Luna added, "Would your old hair have been like that if you grew it out?"

"I don't know," Harry said, eyes closed, as he enjoyed Hermione working out the tangles, "I kinda froze it at horrible with accidental magic when I was younger."

"Froze it?"

"Yeah, Aunt Petunia gave me this terrible buzz-cut with little tufts, I freaked out, my hair was back the way it was before she cut it the next morning, and never changed."

Luna gave him a hug, "I guess we'd better get going," Luna leaned forward, and received a kiss from Hermione, "Buckle up!"

Hermione and Harry buckled themselves into the back seat quickly.

Luna checked her mirrors, cranked up the motor, toggled the switch labeled 4WD, cranked the wheel over, "Hold on," she grinned, the loud pedal floored before she dropped the shifter into reverse.

Gravel flew from under all four wheels, and she lifted off the gas, shifted into 3 while still going backwards, then floored it again while metal shrieked, groaned, and clicked, continued to slide backwards a moment even as the wheels spun, threw gravel behind them and ticking along the sides of the van.

The engine roar changed as the wheels finally gripped, and the van rocked back, then forward, raced down the gravel road back to the highway.

Harry whooped in joy. Hermione buried her head against his shoulder, and clung to him tightly.

Luna jerked the wheel just a little, tapped the brakes, turning almost broadside on the road, then went full pedal again. The van drifted up onto the highway, suspension almost bottomed out, then rebounded, two feet of air under the wheels.

Hermione shrieked as the van's body rolled side to side, jerked left to right as Luna fought to straighten out their path. Foot off the gas, shifter in neutral, toggle the 4WD button, shifter to OD, pedal to the floor again, and Luna cackled gleefully while the engine spooled up again.

~*i*~

Luna bounced the van into the hospital parking lot, raced towards an empty spot straight ahead of them, shifted her grip on the wheel, jammed the parking brake down with her left foot, whipped the wheel around, took one hand off the wheel and released the parking brake as the van bumped into the parking barrier with the back wheels.

She put the van in park, set the parking brake again, and smiled at Hermione, "Are you buying dinner?"

"Are we there yet?" Hermione asked, eyes closed, curled around Harry's shoulder.

"Parked in the parking lot."

"Why's the engine still running?"

"Waiting for the turbos to cool," Luna pulled one of the levers under her seat, and turned it to face them.

"Turbos?"

"E-85 and kinda stupid boost, 'cause the V10s aren't that strong. It should last a few years, hopefully," Luna said, "What are you getting us to eat?" she looked Hermione and Harry up and down.

Hermione blushed to the neck of her shirt, "Hospital food, 'cause there's nothing good for a half-mile around here."

"Sigh," Luna glanced over her shoulder at the instrument cluster, "It'll be cooling for another couple minutes, probably, we could drive."

"Slowly."

"Yeah, the cops are looking for us by now," Luna glanced at the dash again, "I should get this thing a turbo timer."

"Which is?" Hermione asked, letting herself be distracted.

~*T*~

Note: The van is an extended-length 2009 Ford E-350 SuperDuty that's had at least it's purchase price in upgrades done. Luna's still gonna break it if she keeps driving like that.

Chapter Text

~*T*~

"Better put your hands up and get in the van; or else you'll get blown away," the girls started into the last verse, danced as they sang. Amy's new parents laughed helplessly, hands over their faces while they peeked between their fingers.

"Stagin' a coup like yeah," Taylor sang,

"Brainwashin' moles like yeah," Amy sang a line.

"We only torture the folks we don't like; You're probably gonna be OK," Lisa sang, but that line was supposed to be a bit awkward.

"Yeee-aaa-hhh, it's a party in the CIA," they harmonized.

"Yeee-aaa-hhh, it's a party in the CIA."

Clapping filled the train car, and Taylor curtsied. Lisa and Amy bowed.

~*i*~

"So, other than songwriting, what do you three do for fun?" Hermione's mother asked.

Amy blushed from the tips of her ears to the collar of her shirt. Taylor grabbed her hand, completely blank-faced. Lisa looked at them, looked at Hermione's snickering parents, then cackled like the wicked witch she was.

"Moving off that topic," Hermione's father said quickly, which startled a laugh out of Taylor, "You are looking forward to magic school?"

"Mostly," Lisa suddenly smiled, shifted her accent a bit, "Mostly," she said again.

"What?" Hermione's mother, Michelle, asked.

"We'd better get back, because it's going to get dark soon, and they mostly come at night," Taylor quoted, paused, "Mostly."

"Your parents let you watch that?" Hermione's father, Ian, asked.

"My parents were killed by a magical terrorist who faked his death when I was 15 months old," Taylor answered, "Worst thing was, the Wizarding World bought it, hook, line, and sinker."

"So you don't think he's dead?" Michelle totally went with the diversion.

"No body, no wand. He scarpered," Lisa said, "The Wizarding World knows it, too, even if they won't admit it. He had a Taboo on his nom-de-guerre, and no one uses it to this very day, they refer to him as You-Know-Who, not even using his given name, Tom Marvolo Riddle.

"Do they even know his real name?"

"That's a really good question," Lisa agreed, "We'll have to check the Profit's archives."

"If they haven't published it already, it'll be really hard to get them to publish it now."

"A banner in the Ministry?"

"Nobody, not even Wizards, are dumb enough to buy that," Taylor said firmly.

~*i*~

"Bath," Amy said, once their excess bags are dropped in her room.

Taylor and Lisa shared a glance, "Do we have to?" Lisa whined perfectly, "We're not even dirty."

"We can totally fix that," Amy said, then grabbed the other two's hands, and led them from her room.

"Do we want to?" Taylor asked.

Lisa closed the bathroom door behind them, and pulled her dress off before answering, "The almost entirely not horny is convenient, I'm sure. It gives us about three hours a day back for other things," she cupped her teen-boy-flat boobs, "Plus it'd feel weird, at least for a bit."

Amy dropped her shirt on the floor before she leaned in and kissed Lisa, "Whatever you're comfortable with."

Lisa moaned into the kiss, pressed firmly against her wife. Amy clutched her back.

Taylor whimpered, "Almost completely," she said, and busied herself running the bath.

She shucked off and got in the hot water as soon as the temperature was almost right.

Amy and Lisa joined her a moment later.

"Not comfortable with this tackle," Taylor said, gesturing at the water, "And only almost completely not horny."

"I can fix that, too."

"Maybe later, I'm famous, and we may need that fame," Taylor sunk down under the water a bit more, up to her nose.

Lisa leaned in and kissed her scar, pulled back, and said something.

Taylor shifted, getting her ears out of the water, "What?"

"Mr. Riddle's quite confused. He craves love, but it hurts him at the same time. The more loved you are, the weaker he gets, the closer he gets to you. He'd give almost anything to be loved like you are, Taylor, but is so scared of losing himself."

"Really," Taylor asked.

Amy slid herself into Taylor's lap, wrapped her arms around her, and kissed her soundly.

"Really," Lisa affirmed, smiling, then kissed Taylor's scar again.

"That scared longing," Taylor smiled, "That's him."

Amy pulled Taylor's head down, and kissed her scar.

Lisa cackled, "Resistance is futile, Mister Riddle, your magical and technological distinctiveness will be added to our own," she said, before kissing her wives again.

Taylor rubbed her forehead on Lisa's shoulder, smiling, almost grinning.

~*T*~

The little girl expects no declaration of tenderness from her doll.
She loves it - and that's all. It is thus that we should love. - DeGourmont

~*T*~

Notes: It was about here that the Author made some design choices about this story.

The meta-amusing one: This Dumbledore isn't good, he isn't bad, he's just nice. He knows a lot of things, but he isn't wise. He was completely right about love being key to solving the dark lord problem, and completely screwed the pooch anyway.

He's totally Peter Principled himself: He is an awesome Transfiguration teacher, and while he could do an adequate job at any two of his major responsibilities, he's completely overwhelmed trying to accomplish all of them.

He also overfunctions under stress, which is why he Peter Principled himself, and willfully doesn't understand children, or adults, expecting them to behave as rational, trusting agents, instead of irrational beings who mistrust anything they haven't seen or experienced themselves.

The author hadn't read a non-wicked, non-senile Dumbledore in a while, so this seemed funny.

And the Author heard Weird Al's "Party in the CIA" for the first time just after the first draft of this, too.

And Lisa and Taylor are quoting Aliens, of course

Chapter Text

~*T*~

After a forgettable meal in the hospital canteen they followed Hermione on her rounds.

Luna baffled the two people who looked like they would complain, and Harry collated an inductive understanding of the issues.

"They triaged for you," he said, "So a dozen major injuries, and a dozen cases of long-term metabolic abuse."

"Yup. Amy just reset them to normal, told them to eat less sugar, and let them go."

"Bet that didn't help much."

"No, not really."

"What do you want to do about it?"

"Eh," Hermione shrugged, "We'll see after the test cases."

Luna gave her a hug, "Good job."

~*i*~

Luna reversed into Harry's driveway, parking next to his dad's truck.

"Hey, dad!"

"Hey," Danny got up from the couch, "I was getting worried, the school called, said you got in a fight."

"Yep. Off school property, but," he shrugged, "Whupped on Sophia. She's decided she wants to be my friend now."

"What?"

"Yeah," Luna said, "That's what I thought. She seems really happy about it for some reason, so," she lifted one shoulder, dropped it, held out her hand, "Luna McFeely."

Hermione snorted back a laugh, held out her own hand, "Amy Dallon," got her own handshake.

Harry plopped onto the couch. Hermione and Luna exchanged a glance, then Hermione dropped into his lap and Luna sat down beside them, cuddled to their side.

"So these are your girls, then?" Danny asked, relocating to the chair to one side.

"Yes," Hermione answered, "We corresponded recently, then managed to meet up. They really make me happy."

"I can see that," an uncomfortable smile twisted his lips and crinkled his eyes, "I'd prefer not to know too many details, but if you need to talk, about anything, I'll listen. Probably won't be able to help, but Taylor's mom managed to teach me how to listen."

"Thank you," Hermione said, "My folks aren't so good at listening, they get to the point they think they know what's going on and jump to trying to solve it."

"Better than mine,' Luna said, "They figured out I had powers and jumped straight to "how can we profit." from "you should have saved your brother," never mind I got powers after he committed suicide."

Harry hugged her tighter a moment, and Hermione kissed her temple.

"Would you like to spend the night? We have some extra bedding," he asked.

"I'll need to call my parents."

~*i*~

Harry skinned off quickly, pulled on his nightgown with his back to the girls.

"Oh," Luna smiled, suddenly staring at Hermione, "You can do cosmetic changes."

"Yeah?"

"Harry's still all ashamed of his pudgy tummy."

"But we like his pudgy tummy."

"He doesn't, do you, Harry?"

"I like this body, it works well, is kinda tall, has lovely hair that Hermione likes to play with, runs fast, there's nothing worth complaining about."

"See, he wants that tummy fat moved," Luna blinked, "And his eyes fixed, if it isn't too much trouble."

"I can do both easily," Hermione pulled Harry's nightgown back up over his head, tossed it on the bed, grabbed his shoulder as he blushed, "Where should I put it?"

"A little bit to the boobs," Luna looks Harry's flushed form up and down, "The rest to his thighs, hips, and butt."

"How's that?"

Harry looked down, flexed his tummy muscles.

"A little more, he wants his tummy muscles to show when he flexes."

His skin tightened a little more over his abdomen, showing some definition. He relaxed, and his tummy smoothed out, "Perfect," he said.

Luna laughed.

"I like this new shade of green," Hermione said, pulling his glasses off.

"Yes, let's keep that for now, he hasn't even noticed yet."

"What? I'm a boy, I don't pay as much attention to eye color as some people," Harry defended.

Luna stretched, which attracted both sets of eyes in the room to her pale, naked skin.

"I'm getting a feeling you'd like something, too,' Hermione raked her eyes up and down, "I'm not sure what, though."

"Do you think my tummy's too pudgy?" Luna asked.

"Nope."

"Not at all."

"It's pudgier than yours was, Harry."

"It looks better on you, you've got enough hip and breast to balance it out," he snorts, "Being told I looked like an upright frog didn't help, I'm sure. Taylor didn't like her tummy either."

"What he said."

"I just wanted to be tall enough to kiss Harry without having to go up on my toes," Luna said, "If that wouldn't be too much trouble."

"Stand up, then, let's see," Hermione said.

"See, Harry's lips to my eyeball," Luna said, "And you're lips to my nose, which is better."

"So just a little taller than me?" Hermione said, "I think that'd work fine."

~*i*~

"Tso," Hermione started, wrapped in Harry's arms in Taylor's too small bathtub.

Luna kissed the back of her neck to distract her.

"Totally blunt," she continued, refusing the distraction, "Why don't you want to be a boy again physically?"

"Think about it," Harry said, "Male role models in my life before?" he waited a moment, continued, "Danny has a daughter, and," he went quiet.

Hermione nodded, "I can understand that. My old parents? I contemplated some dumb things to keep them safe and happy."

"How's your new parents?"

"Suck."

"Monkey butts," Luna continued Hermione's answer.

"If you decide you want a male body again, just let me know."

"I will," Harry shrugged, "So long as you're with me," he trailed off again.

Luna leaned over Hermione's shoulder, and kissed Harry slowly, thoroughly, and with tongue. She broke the kiss, caught her breath, "Same."

"Always," Hermione agreed.

~*T*~

Chapter Text

~*T*~

"So," Taylor asked, from Amy's side, Lisa curled up against her back, "Same sex accidental pregnancy?"

"Stir up a lot of magic," Lisa started.

"Have sex," Amy clarified.

"And think about babies. Particularly think about having babies with your partner."

"I have never thought about babies while having sex," Taylor said.

"I have," Amy curled up a bit, hiding, and continued, "Remember the first time we had sex?"

"Yeah?"

"Barely talked myself out of unprotected, get me and Lisa pregnant sex."

"You could do that?"

"Thirty second's work. Stretch some parts, a bit of spermatogenesis, poof, parahuman teen moms, if I guessed the timing right."

"So you can fix my tackle, too?"

"Yeah, ovaries are a little more difficult than a few million sperm, but it wouldn't be difficult."

"Later, if it gets too annoying."

"I need another set of kisses goodnight, now," Lisa said.

It was about twenty kisses later that they went to sleep.

~*i*~

After a very good breakfast, Lisa grabbed her bag in her left hand, snapped to attention, tapping her bare heels together, and snapped Amy a picture-perfect salute, "Permission to depart?"

Amy returned the salute, "Dismissed."

Lisa teleports with a crack like a gunshot.

Taylor thought about repeating the dog and pony show, then gave Amy a hug instead, "See you soon."

"See you."

Taylor teleported out silently, in swirl of pale blue light that clung to every surface for a few moments after she left.

~*i*~

Taylor pulled bags, boxes, and two trunks, out of her pockets, then stuffed the boxes and trunks into a bag, and put the bag in a hole in the wall of her room, hidden by her mattress. She leaned back against that wall, a book in her hands, and began to read.

~*i*~

Lisa walked boldly though the front gates of Hogwarts, up the path, and climbed the steps to the front door of the keep. It did not open at her first touch, and she frowned at it. It sagged open, and she walked through.

"Woke up this morning," she sang, not skipping, but dancing along to the pounding beat in her head, "Started to sneeze, had a cigarette and a cuppa tea," she started up the steps, smiled at a portrait, "Looked in the mirror, what did I see? A nine-stone weakling with knobbly knees. Did my knees bend, press ups, touched my toes," she twirled on the landing, "Had another sneeze and I blew my nose," started up the next flight, "I looked in the mirror at my pigeon chest, had to put on my clothes because it made me depressed," she bebopped along as the backup singers sang in her head.

"I wanna be like Superman," bob bob bob, "Wish I could fly like Superman."

She stopped in front of a bare patch of wall, gave it an Arnold Rimmer salute, then traced an elaborate pattern on the stone before stepping into it.

"Superman," she sang in the dark, "Superman. Wish I could fly like Superman."

Light floods in as a wall is pushed open, and Lisa steps out, bobbing along, silently, to the song.

A locked cabinet succumbed, after a few minutes, to her persuasion, and she pulls out a thick book, which obligingly opened where she wanted, and she smiled.

"The wood is full of shining eyes, the wood is full of creeping feet, the wood is full of tiny cries, you must not go to the wood at night," she sang as she leafed through to the next year's list, found the entry for Luna Lovegood, and pinched it between her fingers, "Showed me how to catch a lark, with a straw and a nut and a whispered word, penny worth of ginger wrapped up in a leaf," pulled it off the page, held it while she flipped back to the current year, and dropped it back onto the page, right after "Hermione Granger." The later entries shifted down to make room, and in a moment one could hardly tell a change had been made.

"He asked me my name and where I lived: I told him a name from my book of tales," Lisa stepped back into the dark passage, closing it behind her, "He asked me to come with him into the wood, and dance with the kings from under the hills."

She sang as she stepped out again, through the stone, "The wood is full of shining eyes, the wood is full of creeping feet, the wood is full of tiny cries, you must not go to the wood at night," and bounced down the stairs.

~*i*~

"Hey pretty girl," Taylor stood behind the garden shed, long owl talons pricked through her skin into her arm, and offered the snowy owl an owl treat.

The golden-eyed female on her arm took it, then made a noise something like "Pre-ek."

"A rat would be hard. I can get you as many bugs as you'd like-"

"Eck."

"How about a mouse?"

"Pre."

"It'll take me a bit," Taylor said, "Do you mind if I pet you?"

"Pre."

Taylor stroked her breast feathers with her knuckles, "Do you have a name?"

"Prek Ack Prep-prep,"

"I'd totally mangle that name. Can I call you Hermione? I don't think Amy's going to use that name much anymore."

"Eck."

"Yeah, I guess that could get confusing," Taylor bent her knees to catch the mouse as it jumped out of the grass. She grabbed it by the tail as it writhed and twisted, scratching and biting at the arthropods that drove it to captivity and death. It went limp as the fleas and mites tormenting it dropped off, too tired to react as it was offered to the owl.

The owl tilted her head, leaned forward, and cracked the mouse's spine with a quick pinch of her beak, then swallowed the dying creature whole, its tail flipping up and down as it followed the rest of the mouse into her gizzard.

"How about Minerva? Goddess of wisdom, associated with owls?"

"Eck."

"Oh, so the professor's name is Minerva. Hmm."

"Prek."

"Hedwig, huh?"

"Pre."

"Have you seen Hedwig and the Angry Inch? It's been a long time since I saw it, but you don't remind me of her at all."

"Pre-eck."

"Really, the movie doesn't come out until 2001? Huh. I thought it was a lot older than that."

~*i*~

"What happened to your arm, boy?" the heron asked.

Taylor contemplated mentioning owls, decided it was not a good idea, and went with the truth, "It got scratched while I was gardening."

"Make sure you clean it, disinfect it, and wrap it properly. I don't want to have to wipe up your blood, and we shouldn't have to pay because you get an infection by not taking care of it."

Taylor looked at the deep, slowly-seeping wounds in her arm, "I got distracted, it hardly hurts at all."

"Come on," the heron said, "Let's go clean that up."

Taylor followed. She couldn't remember the heron ever helping Harry clean his wounds.

~*T*~

Note: Lisa is mauling "Superman" by The Kinks, and "The Magic Wood" by Joan Baez

Chapter Text

~*T*~

"What's the matter Emma?" Harry asked, "You look upset."

Emma glared, her eyes darting to Sophia, who's leaned back next to Harry's locker, trying to be friendly.

"Are you worried that you've lost a girlfriend?" he smiled, "or are you upset that the one you have left won't put out."

"I'd nev-" Madison starts.

Harry stepped in front of her, tilted her chin up, stared down into her eyes, smiling a tiny little smile which lifted the corner of Harry's eyes, even as he thought happy, lascivious thoughts.

After nearly a minute, he asked, "Sex?" in his huskiest, breathiest voice.

"Yes," Madison answered, even as she leaned forward, going up on her toes.

"See, you just have to ask, Emma."

Sophia laughed out loud, "That was fucking awesome."

"I'm not some deviant like you, Taylor," Emma counterattacked, finally.

"No, you're a deviant who didn't get laid last night. You should try it, it really improves one's mood, relieves stress, strengthens one's bonds to the ones one loves," Harry stroked his hand gently through Emma's hair, a gentle caress, "Make love not war, Emma, before someone decides you're actually a threat."

Sophia cackled, totally ruining the moment, "When did you become such an evil be-aitch?"

"When I woke up and realized that I couldn't win Emma's game."

~*i*~

"How the fu-" Madison cut herself off, "I don't think I even like girls, but," she blushed, "How did you do that? Can you teach me?"

"Luna taught me, I'll ask her if she's willing?"

"Thank you. Who's Luna?"

"One of my girls, she's decided she wants to drive a taxi."

"Really?"

"Yeah, she came by and picked me up yesterday."

"The pretty blonde with a big white molester van?"

Harry laughed, "Yep. We totally made that joke when we picked up Amy."

"Amy Dallon?"

"Let me guess, we're all over PHO."

"They have before and after memes."

Harry's lips twitched, "Really."

"Really. The answer's definitely still yes."

Harry broke out laughing.

Madison managed a face that's both sad and angry, "You asked!"

"I was demonstrating for Emma."

"Emma's certainly not as good as you."

"Eh, I'll ask Luna and Amy. Don't get your hopes up."

Madison pulled down the neckline of her shirt, exposing a little more cleavage, "Please?"

~*i*~

"It's not funny," Harry said.

Luna continued to laugh at him, "All three of the girls who were tormenting Taylor now have a crush on you."

"Ah, maybe that's funny," he smiled at her, "Madison wants to be taught the seductive eye thing."

"Let me guess - that's why she's got a crush on you."

"Yeah, I was hassling Emma, and she was collateral."

"You shouldn't," Luna sighs, "Yeah, she was treating you as collateral damage for her popularity, so," she trailed off.

"The hangers-on are all confused, and I think are trying to figure out where the in group went."

"Yeah, women are particularly prone to picking on people to try and fit in."

"Not just women, men just tend to be a little more likely to be violent about it."

Luna took her eyes off the road even as the van's body rolls back, following the swerve she made around a slower-moving motorcycle.

"Yusef Hawkins," Luna nodded, putting her eyes back on the road in time to swerve around an ugly boxy car.

Harry grabbed the panic bar to stay off the dash as Luna braked hard, let off, swung into the pickup lane at Arcadia, and braked hard, throwing Harry toward the dash again. She left the engine running, set the parking brake, and grabbed a roll of paper, which she handed to Harry, "Help me put the stickers on while we wait."

"Stickers?"

Luna cackled, nodding.

"Hold this," she said, having spread a sticker that says "Free Candy" in a nicely serifed font against the side of the van. There was a Chunk noise as the van, which had noticed that it was still running with the keys inside, locked itself.

Luna stepped back, then shifted the sticker, looked again, made a mark with a grease pencil. She pulled out a spirit level, and made another mark, then nodded happily.

"Stick it," she said, grabbing another sticker and heading to the other side of the van.

Harry had the sticker lined up, and was trying to get it stuck down without bubbles or creases when Hermione came out, saw what he was doing, and started laughing.

"That's going to be so much trouble," she said.

"You haven't seen the other stickers I've ordered!" Luna called from the other side of the van.

~*i*~

"I'm gonna wait in the van," Hermione sighed after watching Harry play with the sticker a moment. She grabbed the front door handle, pushed the button, and gave it a tug.

It didn't open.

"Yeah, the van locked itself. Harry can fix it, or we can call a locksmith."

"What?"

"Apparently it's a feature. I'll have to figure out how to turn it off."

~*i*~

Harry held the window gasket back as another two-inch long, winged cockroach climbed between the window and the doorframe, then back up on the inside. Four of them dive-mobbing the lock button finally unlocked the van.

~*T*~

Note: The van I saw this happen with wasn't a 2009, but it was a Ford Econoline.

Chapter Text

~*T*~

"Get," the whale started, even as Taylor was hopping down, scooping the last piece of bacon off her plate.

"The mail," Taylor said, snitching the pony's last bacon strip as she passed.

She paused, finished the bacon, wiped her hands on her trousers, and picked up the mail, bill, bill, letter from Hogwarts, bill, invite to boring dinner party. She tossed the Hogwarts letter through the slats into her room as she passed, and handed the rest to the heron.

"Thank you, Harry."

Taylor blinked at her, then stole the heron's plate while she was distracted, scraping it onto her own plate and stacking it underneath.

The pony and the whale pushed their plates over as well. The whale, as always, hadn't touched his beans, bubble and squeak, mushrooms, or black pudding. The pony had left her a banger, a slice of toast, and she'd already finished his bacon.

The whale hid behind his newspaper until she picked up the plates to carry them to the sink.

~*i*~

"Deliver this to Minerva," Taylor told Hedwig, and held out the letter.

"Pre," Hedwig answered, nodding.

"Do you want me to tie it?"

"Eck," Hedwig grabbed it with one taloned hand, and took off. She vanished after a few wingbeats in a silent flare of blue light.

Taylor took off the old gardening jacket the heron gave her, and hung it back on its hook in the shed.

~*i*~

Lisa grabbed Taylor first, and pulled her in for a thorough snog. She pulled back, smiled at the scar, and gave it a kiss, too, "You obviously needed a lot more love and attention as a child, Mr. Riddle," and kissed it again.

"I've noticed it seems to be healing up."

"Yeah, he doesn't know how to deal with love at all," Lisa said, then sang, badly, "Love is like oxygen, you get too much, you get too high," her voice cracked painfully in the middle of the last word, "Not enough and you're gonna die."

Amy clapped her lips over Lisa's to make her stop singing.

It was a few minutes before she kissed Taylor, and her scar.

~*i*~

"Yeah, eight men, six women, two house elves," Taylor said, sitting on a tree branch next to Lisa and Amy, "Five kids, one baby. I think they're having a party."

"That'll make it hard to keep this quiet."

"Should we come back later?" Lisa asked.

"Since one of the women and two of the men seem to be locked up in a dungeon, I don't think so," Taylor said. She closed her eyes, forming a swarm-clone in the basement.

"Is this a game, or do you need a rescue?" the clone asked. Taylor couldn't see that well yet, the eyeball bugs still trying to find a way into the dark dungeon, but she could make out the woman's face as it turned towards the clone.

"Does this look like a game?" the captive asked.

"Some people enjoy the attention and pretend danger," the clone said.

"No, not a game, he killed Brad, I don't know what happened to Janet, and there were five of them down here earlier, they said they'd be back for 'fun' in a little while."

"OK, let's see if we can get you out, then."

"Send in the Bedem," Lisa said.

Taylor nodded, "Graboids should be able to tunnel in, the wardline has badger dens cutting through it."

"Bring me some biomass," Amy said, "And I need to get to the seaside before we head to Hogwarts."

Millions of bugs drove dozens of small mammals with them to Amy's waiting hands.

The four tunnelers dove, one by one, into the ground, out of sight of the Malfoy ward line.

As expected, the 'mundane' animals were ignored by the wards, ripping gaping holes into the floor of the dungeon.

"The graboids won't harm you. Get in the tunnels, follow the fireflies," the clone said

"Do you have any firefly bushes yet?" Taylor asked, "I haven't found any near your house."

"I was too busy with the Bedem, I," Amy went quiet, "Distracted myself," she said, "Get me some more biomass."

Taylor guided the captives out, dispersed her swarm clone about the dungeon, had the graboids dig to either side of the stairs into the dungeon, and flew a few thousand bugs to Amy.

"The men and one of the women are in a parlor, word-wanking what they're going to do to the captives, the other women are in a different parlor, watching the kids play outside, discussing politics."

"Hmm," Lisa frowned, thoughtfully, "See if you can bring me Malfoy alive."

"I think I can do that," Taylor said, even as she felt the first few fireflies take off, driven by their implanted instincts to disperse as widely as possible before digging in and metamorphosing into a bush.

"They should be spread all over Great Britain by the fall, and possibly Ireland," Amy said, "Total first-world problem, but do you know how hard it is to collect uranium without access to seawater?"

"I'm guessing pretty difficult."

"It took me most of a month to collect six and a half kilos for eight Bedem. Producing the antimatter was easier."

"I hope we won't need that much boom any time soon."

"Some things are hard to kill."

~*T*~

Note: Graboids are inspired by the creatures from the movie Tremors, the fireflies Amy makes are full of kerosene and thermite, and the Bedem are inspired by the bioweapons from Iczer-1, with 16 long, slimy, metal-tipped tentacles each. Each tentacle tip has a tiny amount of antimatter and 50 grams of depleted uranium, formed into a 4-ton yield explosive device.

Maxim 37: There is no "overkill." There is only "open fire" and "reload."

Chapter Text

~*T*~

Hermione hid her face behind her hand as the big white van labeled "Free Candy" pulled up to the park. "We're gonna get arrested."

"This is a public service announcement, with Guitars," Luna sang then said in a normal voice, "Well, candy."

"Oh?" Harry asked.

"Yup. Pull the table out, Harry," she said, as she rolled down the windows, "And the chairs, Hermione."

Luna dropped the three cases of candy bars on the table, turned back for more.

She opened the boxes and stood behind the table as a small crowd gathered.

"All right, does everyone have a parent or guardian, or a friend who's out of snatching range with a cell phone?"

All of the kids nodded.

"How about you adults?"

The adults looked around, and a couple blushed.

"That's what I thought. What's the plate number of the van?"

A couple kids edged around the front and back of the van, "001 AMK." they reported almost simultaneously.

"Good. What's your favorite?"

The front kid got a bag of M&Ms, the back kid a Milky Way.

"Why do you need to know that?"

"So we can tell the police who kidnapped our friend?"

"Yep." She got a bag of Reece's Pieces.

"Here's a hard one," Luna said, "Why do people kidnap people, adults or little kids?"

"To hold them for ransom, like pirates!" an older kid called. He got a Snickers.

"Or?"

"Because they're crazy, want a kid, and decide to steal one." She got a bag of Skittles.

"Or?"

The adults look at each other askance.

"It's illegal to have sex with someone under twelve," a girl called out, "And twelve's only legal if their partner's less than four years older. Some people decide they might as well add kidnapping to molestation and/or statutory rape." She got a Hershey Bar With Almonds.

"Or?"

"Just plain crazy, and want to eat you, or use you for parts, or just listen to you scream." He got a bag of M&Ms.

"So, do you think it's a good idea to get dragged into a windowless van by people you don't know?"

"Probably not even by people you do know!" a man at the back yelled. He got a Hershey Bar With Almonds.

"Call the cops if you see someone getting kidnapped!" yelled an older girl near the back. She got a bag of Reece's Pieces.

"Now," Hermione stood up, leaned both hands on the table, "It might seem that we're saying sex is bad. Sex with people you want to have sex with, and want to have sex with you, is pretty awesome." She grinned at her audience.

Several laughed back at her.

"If you don't want to have sex with someone, tell them no. Don't be rude about it unless they don't accept that no, but be firm. Some people have been trained that "No" means "ask me again in five minutes," so you need to make sure you don't say "Yes" just so they'll stop bugging you.

"You also shouldn't use "No" to mean "Yes" without making sure you and your partner have agreed on a word for "No."

"Don't be too harsh in your "No" unless they don't take the first "No." You might change your mind, whether the kid you said "No" to was a dweeby little geek named Bill Gates or the plain girl who's only skills are dancing and licking her eyebrows."

Luna licked her eyebrows, left, then right.

The whole crowd laughed.

Harry whinged, "You haven't made it so I can lick my eyebrows," with crossed arms and a cute pout.

The crowd laughed again.

"Any way it happens," Hermione continued, "Telling someone you'd never have sex with them in a million years makes it a lot less likely they'll say yes if you ever change your mind, much less if you're really rude."

"Why would anyone want to have sex before they're old?" a boy asked. He got a bag of Reece's Pieces.

"Well, I had people I wanted to have sex with when I was te-, twelve," Luna said, "and they wanted to have sex with me, but I didn't tell them, and they didn't tell me, so we didn't have sex until we were older. Even if you do want to, you should wait until you're legal. No one has ever died from blue balls, despite what some of the older boys may tell you."

A laugh from the adults.

"One reason not to have sex until you're legal is birth control and condoms can fail. People have gotten pregnant the first time they had sex. Condoms, when used properly, are 87% effective. That means that out of 100 couples having sex regularly, 13 will get pregnant within a year. We had at least one woman in the U.S. who was a grandmother at 21."

Several of the kids looked shocked, and a murmur of quiet conversation broke out.

"Yeah. I'm not ready to be a mother, much less a grandmother. I doubt most of you kids are ready to be parents, and I don't think your parents want to be grandparents yet. Think really hard before you have sex with anyone."

Harry called, "If you got some candy already, wait for everyone else. One candy at a time, once everyone has some candy you can check about seconds."

The kids swarm the table, and Harry turned to Hermione, "Umph, Umph," he whined pleadingly, then stuck out his tongue.

Hermione looked at him a bit side-eyed, then reached out, grabbed the tip of his tongue, and pulled it up to his eyebrow.

"Thankth, Amy," he said, "How come Luna doethn't thound funny?"

"Because I had time to practice," Luna said.

"Excuse me, miss," a little girl said, as polite as she could, "Could I get my tongue fixed instead of a candy?"

"Have a candy," Hermione told her, "If your parent or guardian says it's OK, I'll fix your tongue because you asked so nicely."

Hermione ended up pulling a lot of tongues.

~*T*~

Note: inspired by Weird Al's "That boy could dance" and a joke:

These two buddies are sitting at the bar in a singles' club and talking about another guy sitting at the other end of the bar.

"I don't get it," complained the first guy, "He's not good looking, he has absolutely no taste in clothes, and he drives a beat up wreck of a car, yet he always manages to go home with the most beautiful women here!"

"Yeah," replies his buddy, "He's not even very good conversationally, all he does is sit there and lick his eyebrows."

Chapter Text

~*T*~

The girls had gotten bored by the time Malfoy and his guests finally headed to the dungeon, and were kicking their feet on their tree branch as they waited.

Taylor's swarm attacked as soon as the door at the top of the stairs closed, climbed in screaming mouths, down noses, filled lungs to the point of gasping, immobile panic.

A graboid knocked down Malfoy, separated him from his wand, and pulled him by his robe towards the tunnels.

Behind him the guests expired one by one, suffocated slowly.

~*i*~

A bakers dozen fireflies circled when Malfoy was dragged out, dirty, disheveled, his face and mouth full of dirt, his breath shallow and fast, one lung full of arthropods, the other with a few who'd gotten lost.

Taylor frowned, disappointed, then smiled. The graboid turned him over, and a small swarm of bugs climbed over his face to pick off all the loose dirt.

"Mr. Malfoy," Lisa said, grinning, "We have a mission for you, whether or not you chose to accept it."

"What?" he gasped, "Do you think I will talk?"

"No, Mr. Malfoy, I expect you to die," Amy said, dropping off the branch to the ground. She pressed a sandaled foot to his side, worked a toe through a tear in his robe. He screamed, convulsed, passed out from lack of oxygen.

"He's really resistant to pain," Lisa said, "I didn't get anything useful."

"Hmm," Amy ripped the hole in his robes bigger, then woke him up. He gasped, moaned, arching his back, clenching his thighs together.

"That's better," Lisa said, "A little pain, please. Perfect." She went quiet for a bit, "He's got something the Dark Lord left with him, something important," she smiled, "It's a soul jar, with another bit of Mr. Riddle's soul."

Malfoy lost bladder control.

"He thinks the Dark Lord will kill him for letting us find that out. In a way, he's right."

Tears have leaked down Malfoy's face, and his fingertips were bloody from digging into the rocky soil, but he kept scraping away at it.

"How to get it, that's the question. Graboids are conspicuous."

"Land crabs?" Taylor asked.

"Yeah, but there's got to be a more general purpose . . . " Amy trailed off a moment, "Invid."

Lisa and Taylor looked at each other, then smiled, "Paranoids."

Amy laughed out loud, stepping back from Malfoy, who collapsed, curling into a ball, wrapping his bloody hands around his knees.

"We need to recycle the graboids anyway," Amy said, waved one of them towards her.

Taylor walked it over to her. Amy quickly formed it an exoskeleton of thick chitin, colored a dull medium grey, humanoid, with two arms, two legs, hands with fingers. She pulled the living cells out and formed it into an amorphous blob of muscles, nerves, a decentralized brain, and attachments.

Taylor had it squirm back into its exoskeleton. It shook itself, waved its arms and legs, ran through something much like a tai chi routine to acclimate itself to its new shape, then it took off at an awkward run that smoothed as it dove into the tunnels and ran toward the Malfoy dungeons.

Lisa's directions opened the vault under the drawing room, and the paranoid ran back with the dark lord's treasure.

Amy, meanwhile, had her hands back on Malfoy.

"Whatcha doing?"

"You're gonna fill his chest with fireflies," Amy said, "So I thought it would be nice to have his dark mark catch fire, too."

"Oh, that'd be lovely."

Taylor brought up the other graboids, "What do you want to do with these?"

"Cowbells," Amy said, suiting action to words, and quickly changed the graboids into clouds of giant, high-explosive beetles.

"So, how are we going to use him?"

"I think the paranoid can puppet him to the Ministry of Magic," Amy said.

The paranoid bobbed it's torso, since it didn't have a mobile neck to its armor, then put both of its thumbs up.

"Go for it," Taylor told it.

It climbed out of its exoskeleton, and blobbed, like an amoeboid inch worm, over to Malfoy's curled, crying form.

Malfoy tried to scream as the paranoid climbed down his throat. He clutched at his throat, turned a little blue, then went limp. A few minutes later Malfoy started twitching, then wiggled a bit, then got to his feet. He made some strange noises, then words, "It's nice to be able to talk," the paranoid said softly.

Taylor landed the 13th firefly on the paranoid's abandoned exoskeleton.

The paranoid made Malfoy watch as Taylor lit the firefly. The chitin stunk as it burned, the thermite dripped though to the ground, and burned into it.

"Yeah, like that," Lisa told him.

The paranoid held Malfoy's mouth open while the other twelve fireflies climbed inside.

"You know the script?" Lisa asked.

"Yes," said the paranoid.

"This doesn't have to, shouldn't be, a suicide mission. Come back when you can," Amy told it.

It nodded Malfoy's head.

"If you can learn how to teleport you'll make it back quicker," Taylor said.

A big grin crossed Malfoy's face, and he vanished with a pop, reappearing a few feet away with another pop. He disappeared with another pop.

~*T*~

Note: Cowbells resemble Goliathus Orientalis in size, shape and markings, but are colored to camouflage with the local environment. They also have an explosive yield equivalent to 30 grams of RDX.

Invid are, of course, from Genesis Climber Mospeada, which was used for the third part of Robotech.

The paranoid is inspired by the Paranoids from "Gal Force: Eternal Story." There is a scene about 15 minutes in where several Paranoids change their skeletons.

Chapter Text

~*T*~

"Amy would be so pissed with you," Hermione said, loading the last of the chairs back into the van.

"Oh?"

"Totally outed me as more than "just" a healer."

"Maybe, maybe not. You just healed my tongue from being too short," Harry smiled, "Hey, I didn't lithp that time. Shite."

"You've almost got the hang of it," Luna said before she leaned up and licked his nose.

"Soon, I hope."

~*i*~

Hermione walked up to the old woman, "Let me help you with that," she said, holding out her hand.

She clutched her bag of groceries tighter, hunched over a little more, scowled, "I've got it, thank you, dear."

Hermione smiled at her, "My name is Amy, and I am not so hard up as to steal groceries from old ladies," she said, "I saw that this isn't easy for you, and would like to help."

She obviously thought about it a moment.

Hermione held out a bare arm, the weather warm enough for March that her t-shirt doesn't stick out too much.

"Thank you, dear," she said, and tucked her hand under Hermione's, the shopping bag slipping down her arm, "My name's Martha."

"Where are we going, Martha?"

~*i*~

"Let's go meet my team," Luna said, as they climbed into the van after Hermione's hospital shift.

"Sure."

"I won't have to heal anyone, will I?"

"Not unless you can, and want to, fix Rachel's power-damage."

~*i*~

"So, this is Brian, Alec, and Rachel. They're my team, paid by Coil, and like me without a way out. I was recruited at gunpoint, Coil's promising Brian help with his sister's custody, Alec needs to stay under the radar and away from his dad, and Rachel's wanted for murder from her trigger."

"Taylor, or Harry. I control bugs."

"Amy, or Hermione. I heal people."

"Yeah, call me Luna. Lisa was nice while it lasted, but it's time to move on."

"You gave out a lot of our secrets just now."

"Coil has no intention of losing his leverage over you, so I'm just letting him know that if he doesn't leave town, he's going to be backed into such a tight corner he'll never get out of it."

"Really?"

"Yup," Luna smiled, "He's got this place bugged, but not rigged to blow, unlike his lair."

Luna's phone rang.

She laughed, "Yeah, you want to threaten my girls, and my team, Thomas."

Her phone stopped ringing.

"I called you in to Piggot and Reinke this morning, your friendship with the chief director won't save you this time."

Her phone rang again, "I called Legend, too. He's already disillusioned about the chief director, and quite willing to bring his team after you."

Her phone stopped ringing again.

~*i*~

"So," Luna told her team, "Rich now."

"So you're taking over the Undersiders?"

"If you want to be heroes I'll keep paying you. Corporate heroes, show up, look pretty, get paid. Free lawyers."

"What for?"

"Get Rachel cleared. Get Brian custody of Aisha. Arrange clemency for Hijack."

Alec leaned back, clearly thinking. Brian frowned. Rachel looked confused, "They know I'm here, and haven't bothered me. I don't need any help."

"If you get cleared, we can set you up a charity, and then your dogs will have plenty of room, and people to look after them."

"So, the lawyers can get me money for my dogs."

"Yes," Luna answered.

"Do it."

"What she said," Alec said.

"Yeah," Brian nodded.

~*i*~

"May I?" Hermione held out her hand to Rachel.

"What?"

"See what your powers have done to you?"

"Look only," Rachel said, taking Hermione's hand, "No fixing without talking."

Hermione nodded, "Luna said you weren't good at talking."

"I never was," Rachel said, "It got better. Now I can talk to dogs real good, people," she shook her head, "People are fucking weird."

"Yeah, I can see that. I can help your brain build up the parts that are supposed to understand humans, without damaging the parts that understand dogs. You'll need to eat your livers, kidneys, hearts, and spleens, though."

"You're not telling me to eat more veggies?"

"Those are important, too, but the livers and kidneys will help you more right now."

"You're just going to help me understand people?"

"If that's what you want."

"Yeah."

"OK. Eat more liver and kidneys, talk to people. As your brain builds up the parts, you'll need to train it to understand people. Luna will find you some, and once your warrants are pulled we'll get you time in public."

"I don't like people."

"That's OK, but understanding them will help you deal with them."

"Good."

~*i*~

"Two down, three to go," Luna said happily, swinging into the driver's seat of her van.

"Gangs?" Harry asked.

Hermione nodded, buckling up in the passenger seat.

"Parents?" Luna asked, looking at Hermione.

"Sure," Hermione sighed, "These ones kinda suck. Worse than my dentists, and they weren't that much better than your aunt, Harry."

~*T*~

Note: Luna was talking about the deputy director, and mispronounced his name on purpose.

Chapter Text

~*T*~

Malfoy walked out of the floo into the atrium of the Ministry of Magic, clutching his left forearm in his right hand. His hair was disheveled, and he was pale, short of breath, eyes wide.

"Mr. Malfoy, can I help you?" the attendant hurried from behind the wand-check desk.

"Bones," Malfoy gasped, "Madam Bones," gasp, "Get her," gasp, "Get Fudge," gasp, "Here," wheeze, "By the statue."

The attendant dashed back to the desk, even as Malfoy staggered to lean against the statue of magical brethren. A crowd gathered, staring.

Madam Bones hurried in first, "What's going on?"

"Good," Malfoy wheezed.

"Why did you call us, Mr. Malfoy?" Madam Bones' tone was much less respectful than the attendant's.

"Hard," gasp, "To talk," gasp, "Fudge."

"Lucius," Fudge gasped when he saw the man leaning weakly against the statue.

Malfoy nodded, "The Dark Lord," gasp.

Gasps sounded from the crowd, too.

Malfoy waited for quiet, "is upset," gasp, "to see," gasp, "his followers," gasp, "eat, drink," gasp, "and make merry," gasp, "while he," gasp, "languishes," gasp, "in exile."

"He is dead!" Fudge yelled.

"No body," gasp, "no wand," gasp. "He returns."

Malfoy's left arm snapped out to the side, which ripped the sleeve off his robe to show the deep green tattoo of the Dark Mark. The green started to glow red, accompanied by a smell of cooking meat, then smoke obscured the mark as it burned.

Malfoy opened his mouth, and screamed. The scream cut off abruptly as a smell of kerosene and a burst of flame escaped his mouth, a bit of smoke out his nose, and he fell forward. Sizzling and popping noises escaped, along with puffs of smoke, from under his still-twitching corpse.

~*i*~

"Malfoy's wand cast the Dark Mark over his house," the Auror says, running a hand through his thinning hair, "The women didn't hear anything, didn't know there was anything wrong until one of the children saw the Mark."

"The guests in the basement?" Bones asked.

"All marked. All suffocated slowly as their lungs filled with bugs."

"Were they forced in?"

"No, they crawled in, it looks like. Perhaps attracted by a potion that made the victim's lungs, and thus their breath, extraordinarily attractive to the bugs."

"Any sign of such a potion? Or them being forced to drink it?"

"It is very likely they came down here to, how did Malfoy put it, "Make merry,"" his lips turned down, "The prisoners were taken, likely by whatever dug the tunnels through the wards."

"Through?"

"Yes, through. The marks are most consistent with large dogs."

"Put the dogs under the Imperius, make them dig, then Vanish them when he was done," Bones nodded, agreeing.

"Dogs would account for the tooth patterns on Malfoy's robes," Dawlish said, nodding, "And the drag damage."

"Go on."

"Use a smaller dog, with a confundus, to get the victims to drink the potion. Capture Malfoy, drag him out of the wards, torture him, then send him to the Ministry with his message."

"And the women?"

"None of them were marked."

"So the Dark Lord is cleaning house, starting with his richest followers," Bones' lips twitched, then her face settled into a studied seriousness, "We should make sure the rest of his followers know that he might be coming for them. Have the Profit publish a warning, with all of the marked Death Eater's names and addresses, to make sure they are notified."

Dawlish blinked, his lips turned up, then he got serious and he nodded, "I'll get right on it, boss!"

~*i*~

Published Under Orders From the Minister of Magic!

Screamed the headline, then, in only slightly smaller letters, Dark Lord Returns! Warns Death Eaters he "Is upset to see his followers eat, drink, and make merry while he languishes in exile."

Below that was a picture of Malfoy Manor, with the Dark Mark hovering over it.

Taylor read the article, and began to laugh.

~*i*~

Amy balanced a giant figeater beetle, iridescent green and yellow, about two inches long and an inch and a half wide, on her fingertip, checking it over again, and smiled. She put it on her arm, and pressed it towards her. It chirped. She pressed it two more times, getting another two chirps, and then it bit her.

Amy cackled as the CommBeetle lapped up the blood welling slowly from the bite.

~*i*~

Lisa giggled as the CommBeetle flew, swirling, awkward, slow, and held out a hand.

It landed awkwardly on her palm, and she chivied it up her arm, and gave it three presses.

~*i*~

Taylor felt the spreading CommBeetle network days before she saw anyone in Little Whinging with one.

~*T*~

Note: The references to the Daily Prophet newspaper as the Profit are intentional and disparaging by the various speakers.

And CommBeetles!

Chapter Text

~*T*~

"Carol Dallon," Hermione gestured, hand up at head height, slightly cupped, a picture of teenaged disdain, at the woman, "Mark Dallon," a matched gesture indicated the man.

He gave half a wave at the introduction.

"Vicky," this gesture is more shoulder-height, but hardly more respectful.

"Luna," Hermione pointed with her chin, and Luna bowed, flourished an imaginary hat.

"And Taylor," she pointed with her chin again, and Harry curtsied, the gesture, as always, looking a little silly in trousers.

Hermione crossed her arms, shoulders back, feet spread, glaring.

"Oh my god! They're adorable!" Vicky gushed, darting over.

Harry brought his hands up, took a step back, hands open, palms forward, right hand back, knees bent.

Luna had her fists up, one up to guard her face, the other back by her chest, even as she took three, quick, low steps toward Hermione.

"And so protective!" Vicky crossed her own fists at her breast, hugged herself with a joyous wiggle, "No wonder you always hated the dates I dragged you on!"

Carol looked at her daughters, looked at Amy's girlfriends who had relaxed a little, but still had their hands up, met Amy's glare, and began to cry.

Hermione blinked, stared, her arms relaxing, completely nonplussed.

~*i*~

Mark had made hot chocolate, and everyone was seated at the kitchen table. Carol was at one end, Mark at the other. Vicky was on one long side, and Hermione was on the other, with Harry and Luna to either side.

"I'm sorry," Carol said, after a few minutes of silently staring into her mug.

"What for?" Hermione asked after a while.

"I was too busy waiting for you to turn into your father to remember you were just a kid, with her own hopes, dreams, and ambitions."

Hermione blinked at her confused, "What are you talking about?"

"You know you're adopted, right?"

"I hoped I was adopted."

Carol flinched, "I deserve that," she took a sip, stared into her mug, "Your father was Marquis. We attacked his house one night, used you as a hostage when he stepped in front of the closet you were hidden in to protect you," she went silent again.

Luna stared, glancing around the table a minute, then burst out, "You fucking idiots! You attacked the least-bad villain in town, in his own house, stole his daughter, and then unmasked?" Only Hermione's having quickly grabbed her hair kept Luna from banging her head on the table, "You're lucky to have only lost Fleur."

Carol looked like she wanted to protest.

Mark nodded sadly, "We were lucky. Do you think the Teeth would have given us Vicky back intact if they were using her as a hostage?"

Carol's face fell like a three-year-old's, and she sobbed on the table. Mark got up, walked around behind Vicky, and gathered his wife into his arms.

Hermione blinked, conflicted, at them, eyes shiny. Harry gathered her in his arms, and Luna gave her a kiss on the temple.

"Don't worry," Luna said softly, "It'll take a lot more than this for her to stop being the paranoid bitch you know so well."

~*i*~

"There is a tradition, you may have noticed," Carol started. She went silent, hid her face behind her hands, clasped around her mug.

Hermione, cuddled into Harry's lap, protective arms around her waist, eventually said "A tradition?"

"Not to talk about one's trigger events," Carol went silent again.

"Probably part of why we have so many messed up parahumans," Luna said, "We're really designed to share our problems."

"Maybe," Carol sighed, stared into her cup.

Harry sighed as well, "My best, kinda only, friend turned on me the summer before high school. She was popular, and I cared too much, was hurt by her behavior. They let up after Thanksgiving, then, when I got back at the beginning of January, I found they had filled my locker with used feminine hygiene products, which were decomposing, but not enough, still smelled like blood, and rotting meat, and the bugs," he shrugged, clutched Hermione tighter, "Slammed my head into the back of the locker hard enough to give me a concussion, shoved me in, locked the door behind me, left laughing. I puked sometime about then," he shrugged again, "And proceeded to freak the fuck out, and triggered over it. I mostly don't remember anything from then until I got a handle on things in the hospital a week later."

"It wasn't being kidnapped, or the weeks of imprisonment, those were just setup, it was the feeling of betrayal when I realized that the kidnapper who'd been nicest to us was just as bad as the rest of them," Carol smiled a smile that came no where near her eyes, "And I feel so dumb for being surprised, for expecting, no, believing, a kidnapper wouldn't be an . . . " she trailed off. "It was almost thirty years ago, I should be over it by now."

"Some things just have to be shared and accepted," Luna said, "I'd almost use normalized, but that's not quite the right word."

~*i*~

Carol hugged Luna, then Harry, then, with a noticeable flinch, Hermione, "I suck. I suck really a lot. I should have been a better mother."

Hermione nodded, stiff in Carol's arms.

"I want to do better. I'll try to do better. Will you let me?" Carol squeezed her tighter.

"Yes," Hermione said in a small voice. She relaxed a little, hugged Carol back, a gentle squeeze.

~*T*~

Chapter Text

~*T*~

"Yaxley," Hermione said, read off the sign on the front gate, as the faint blue glow from Taylor's teleport faded quickly in the sunlight.

"Only one with a dungeon," Taylor said, "Or only one with people in their dungeon."

"Other people?"

"Nope, just him, and his four involuntary guests. He's adjusted his wards, no animals in or out."

"What are we going to do?"

"Bring them down," Lisa said, "Ripple-fire them, to create destructive resonance."

Cowbells converged on the wards by the dozens, by the hundreds.

BOOM. BA-BOOM. BOO-BOO-BOO-BOO-BOO-M.

The explosions started with a single cowbell, then three, rapidly increased into a steady, rolling thunder of high explosives, then faded away.

Inside the house, a man had his hands over his mouth and nose. He breathed shallowly, already a tiny bit blue. The intermittent, painful stings and bites kept him from concentrating enough to apparate.

BOOM. BOOM.

A cowbell blew in the front window, and another opened the door.

Amy tilted Yaxley's head back, and Lisa smiled, "Oh, your friends have been over? That's nice to know. The auror's have a watch on your house? Really? How come they didn't - oh, you've shared? With who? He's not as pain-resistant, could you, thank you, Amy, no, you aren't going to live through this, the easier you make this the quicker your death. You don't want to die like Malfoy, burned alive from inside? Tell me what I want to know. Money, codes, safe houses, everything, of course. Oh, you have floo passwords? The Dark Lord had a password? In parseltongue? I think that earns you a quick death, what do you think, Amy? Taylor?"

Taylor landed a cowbell on Yaxley's face. His eyes crossed, trying to look at it.

"Yes, I think a quick death would be a suitable reward," Amy let go, stepped back.

BOOM.

Lisa picked up Yaxley's wand, "Can we release the prisoners?"

"They're chained, so not without showing ourselves," Taylor said.

BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.

BOOM. BOOM.

"They should be found, now."

Lisa cast the Dark Mark from Yaxley's front step, dropped his wand, and they teleported away.

~*i*~

"We were on-scene within 30 seconds of the Dark Mark being cast," the auror said, "Yaxley asked us to monitor, because he was afraid he'd be a target."

"The neighbors mentioned thunder on a clear day," Director Bones stated, "Why didn't you respond then?"

"I set up a magic-detection charm, and went to get a sandwich, because I was hungry. I'd been gone maybe seven minutes, and had just gotten my sandwich when the charm triggered. I apparated back, and found the Mark over his house, the wards down, him dead of an apparent blasting curse to the face, and a blasted-open dungeon with four prisoners."

~*i*~

Dolohov collapsed backward, grabbing for the giant beetle that landed on his face.

BOOM.

~*i*~

"Ten out of seventy, today," Director Bones told Minister Fudge and Chief Warlock Dumbledore, "I think he is worried they'll run."

"He can call them back, and track them, using the Dark Mark on their arm," Dumbledore said, stroking his beard, "Why would he be worried about them getting away?"

"Maybe he thinks it would be, undignified, maybe, if he had to chase them?"

"And all of them have died from explosive curses or that unknown fire potion," Dumbledore shook his head, "He used to favor the Unforgivables."

"He may know, Malfoy knew, that we modified his Taboo to pinpoint the use of the torture and killing curses."

"I still think we should have watched for the Imperius," Fudge said, "But the Unspeakables could only stretch the Taboo so far, and Bagnold insisted on the torture curse."

Dumbledore nodded, "I thought the Imperius was a bigger threat myself, but Crouch backed Bagnold."

"Can the Unspeakables adjust the Taboo again, or will it break?"

"I don't know," Fudge said, "I'll have them look into it."

"We should keep this out of the papers," Dumbledore said, "We don't want to start a panic over so many prominent citizens being murdered."

"No, we don't want that," Fudge agreed fervently, "Talk to Lovegood, please. The Prophet won't publish anything like this unless we tell them to, but I'll have a word with the editor to make sure."

Dumbledore nodded, "I will talk to Xenophilius."

~*i*~

Comm Beetle Menace?

London: The streets are full of them, and they're on more and more shirts every day. They provide an alternative phone network, and speak in Majel Barrett's voice. Many people have asked what they want, why they have been released, and who makes money off free communications.

When they go through their setup routine, they won't assign a contact number until the Terms and Conditions are agreed to. Ask a Comm Beetle to read these Terms and Conditions, or read the copy we transcribed on Page 3, and the answers to those questions become readily apparent.

The first few pages are normal enough legalese, describing the relationship between the User and Hebert Communications, limiting the user's rights to interfere with the service, troll other users, and so on. After that it becomes more interesting.

All communications are recorded, and some are monitored, for "Training and Quality Assurance." The Comm Beetle listens and watches, both for voice commands and for "user safety."

The user grants Taylor, Amy, and Luna Hebert a limited power of attorney, including the right to call Police, Child Protective, or Emergency services for the user, and custody of the user's minor children at the discretion of the Heberts.

We talked with our legal department, and it would be difficult to enforce these terms in court, but until they are challenged, they are presumed valid.

So, the question becomes, do you trust Hebert Communications? And more importantly, how far do you trust Taylor, Amy, and Luna? Only time will tell if our trust is misplaced.

~*T*~

Chapter Text

~*T*~

"Why are we waking up in the van again?" Harry asked, as he cuddled closer to Luna.

"Because I wanted to have sex with you two, and didn't want my kidnapper-parents, your dad, or Luna's team in the same building listening when we did."

"One of us should have learned a wandless silencing spell."

"One of us will learn a wandless silencing spell. Just not within a time period that I'm willing to forego sex for," Hermione leaned over Luna, and gave Harry a morning-breath kiss.

He carded his fingers through her hair, then sat up, crossed his legs, tailor-, he snorted, style, and started to take his pigtails out.

Luna looked at Hermione, who nodded, and they pounced Harry before he got too far.

~*i*~

"So," Harry said, pulling out a notebook, and turning it to a blank page, "What's next?"

In the center of the page he wrote "Rule Brockton Bay with an Iron Fist" before he drew a big circle around it. In the upper left he wrote "Destroy the gangs" with Undersiders, Coil, Merchants, ABB, and E88 under it, indented a little. He crossed out Undersiders and Coil.

"Co-Opt the Protectorate, PRT, and BBPD," Luna said. Harry wrote that down.

"PR," Hermione said, "We need to appear legitimate if we are going to stay in power once we seize it."

Harry wrote down PR, then asked, "Why aren't you protesting taking over this time?"

"The Wizarding World was such a crapsack that I could no longer see any way of making it better without killing everyone."

"Not everyone," Luna protested, "75% should have sufficed."

"Yeah, ignoring the idiots seemed much more fun than trying to rule them," Hermione said.

"But these guys seem worth conquering?"

"We're not going to conquer them," Hermione smiled, "We are going to save them."

Luna laughed, "I don't think that difference is a difference."

Harry just laughed.

~*i*~

"Empire 88," Harry nodded, "I can hear through my bugs, but my range is still pretty small," he sighed, "We'd get noticed hanging around them to listen, even if we weren't driving a big white van labeled "Free Candy.""

"Let me see one of your bugs," Hermione said.

Harry dropped a spider down into Hermione's hand on a line of webbing. It lifted a foreleg and waved at her.

"Do that again!"

Harry had the spider wave, then dance a bit, "Drivin' that train, high on cocaine, Casey Jones you better watch your speed."

The spider twisted, nauseatingly, then painfully, then, poof, his range expanded, "You got it."

"Hmm," Hermione said, then the spider thinned, lengthened, grew wings, and flew out of the van, "It'll plant itself, and grow range-extender bushes."

Luna got to her first, and snogged her thoroughly.

Harry waited impatiently until Luna pulled back, short of breath, then snogged Hermione himself.

~*i*~

Hermione knelt, one knee on the ground, and clicked her tongue, "Hey there," she said, "Come here, old lady," she cajoled.

The boney old cat gave her a look, and flicked her tail.

Hermione clicked a couple times, holding out her hand.

The old cat flicked her tail again, then walked, a little gingerly, over, sniffed Hermione's hand, and allowed a pet.

"Let's see," Hermione told her, gathering the cat gently into her arms, "Malnutrition, old age, spayed," she scratched under the cat's chin, on the white side.

The calico purred, leaning into the caress.

"That should take care of the arthritis, and," the cat turned her head, wanting the other side of her face scratched, "This should help with the malnutrition," she scratched the white side again, "That should let me find you in a while to check on you."

She pet the cat for a few more minutes, until the calico decided it was time to be on her way. Hermione watched the cat walk smoothly away, and smiled.

~*i*~

Luna circled, fists up to guard her head, breath a little roughened, but steady.

Harry circled the other way, palms forward, also breathing a little hard.

Luna darted forward, trying to get inside Harry's longer reach, striking with hard, straight blows.

Harry countered with sweeping, circular deflections, pushed Luna's right fist down and across her body to the side with one hand as his other followed towards her face.

Luna got her left fist over and intercepted the strike, even as she stepped back and to the left, faded with the blow. Her right foot followed, right knee nearly to her chin. Her right fist came up high, drew Harry's eyes, and her right heel took him in the solar plexus, winding him even as it pushed him back.

~*i*~

They bounced along the boardwalk, well, Luna bounced, Harry and Hermione walked, mostly, occasionally skipped when Luna cajoled them enough.

Luna window shopped for all three of them. She dragged them into various stores to look at things, or occasionally coerced them into trying things on.

"No," Hermione said, looking at the red straw hat, "I ain't gonna do it."

"Please?" Luna said, her eyes watery and big. Her lips trembled, and she whimpered almost inaudibly. She held the hat up, and sniffled.

"Fine," Hermione huffed, putting on the hat and looking in the mirror, "Creep."

Luna smiled and laughed, "I knew that'd look good on you." She leaned in and gave Hermione a kiss on the lips.

Hermione clutched her fingers in Luna's hair, pulled her closer, and deepened the kiss.

Hermione paid for, and wore out of the store, the hat.

~*T*~