Dark Gods In The BloodEpilogueBy HayseedA/N: Long, rambling author’s notes follow. Thanks for reading! Disclaimer: Nothing you read here (save the plot and bits of the text itself) belongs to me. Harry Potter and his cronies are the property of JK Rowling and Warner Bros. (and someone else, probably, but not me). All chapter headings are properly credited to their sources. The offing was barred by a black bank of clouds, and My dearest Hermione, I find myself dreaming about you sometimes. Nothing inappropriate, mind. But nice dreams all the same. Last night, for instance, I dreamed that you and Harry and I were sitting beside the lake at Hogwarts, chatting. ‘I’m glad you’re happy,’ Harry said in my dream and for once, I’m able to believe him. His ghost is naught but a tickle in the back of my mind, these days. A good tickle, mostly. And you may tell my little monkey, Alice, that she’s taken your five Galleons. I have indeed shaved off my infernal beard (see enclosed photograph, taken by a pair of lovely German tourists the last time I was in town). The final delousing was the last straw, you see. I’m not surprised that Harry’s little Looking-Glass girl has turned out to be the first Slytherin Potter in -- what was it you said? -- seven generations. She always was a devious little scamp. It is a shame that she won’t wind up Gryffindor’s Seeker, though. I have been looking forward to her Quidditch debut for many years now. Feel free to read this portion of my letter to her, by the way. I’m sure she’ll be amused and offended, as she always is when I hear from her. Also feel free to pass on my congratulations to Nicholas -- Head Boy, wow! His mum must be thrilled. Personally, I knew he was bound for Head Boy the minute I heard he’d made prefect. Make sure to warn him about the twins, though. They’ll give him hell all year. I’m sure he’s gotten quite good at defending himself, though, for a Ravenclaw. I’ve moved again, this past month, and finally managed to run across your monks. Master Xi sends his regards, by the by. Why on Earth didn’t you warn me about his rather intriguing way of introducing himself? ‘Hallo, I’m Ron Weasley,’ I told him. ‘I believe you know my old school friend, Hermione Granger.’ ‘I know,’ he said in pretty good English, before belting me in the face with an open fist and landing me flat on my back with a single kick. In the thirty minutes he insisted we spar, I think he ‘killed’ me no less than fifteen times. Only then did he confirm that he was, indeed, Master Xi. He was, however, kind enough to wait for me to remember how to breathe once again before beginning our next lesson -- Weeding for Morons. You owe me big time, Butterfly. Oh, yes. I know all about your monks now. They’ve told me many interesting stories. I’m particularly fascinated by the one that somehow wound up with you in the middle of a snowstorm wearing only a bath towel. And here I was, thinking you took to Zen like a duck to water. Watch it or I’ll send a letter to your Severus telling him all about it. How is the old bat these days, anyhow? Nicholas never did tell me how the last Battle for the Playstation Master of the Universe made out, and he usually rather enjoys giving me a blow-by-blow account of how he slaughtered Snape at Ultra-Mega-Triple-Death-Wars or whatever the newest game is. I suppose Snape has improved somewhat and Nicholas has finally lost his edge -- don’t tell me you finally gave in and let him get his own Playstation. I told you that letting him wire Dumbledore’s old estate for Muggle electricity was a big mistake. Although I suppose that the idea of anyone telling Severus Snape what to do is laughable at best. I’m sure you come closer than most, though. And I know Françoise is still quietly scandalized at you two, still living in sin after all these years. How oddly against her French background, really, but Françoise has always been a rather strange blend of French sophistication and English pragmatism. I don’t know anyone else that gets along with my mother and Petunia Dursley equally well. I try not to think about Françoise and mostly fail. Now, don’t frown at that, Butterfly. It’s not what you think. Well ... that’s not true. It’s exactly what you think, but don’t believe for a second that I don’t know what a bad idea it always was. I’m well aware. She writes me sometimes. The fact that she still uses Hedwig is a good reminder. Sometimes I try to convince myself that the reason she’s still unmarried after all these years is because she’s waiting for me to come and sweep her off her feet. But then the illusion shatters and I remember that she’s waiting for Harry. Always for Harry. You see, Hermione. You see that I’ve changed. I think I now understand why you stayed in Tibet as long as you did. The Path is awfully compelling -- perhaps some day I will know what Master Xi means when he tells me that I must not travel on the road to enlightenment, that the road must first come to me. Sort of makes me think about what you said to me all of those years ago, when I asked you what you’d been doing for all the time you were gone. Learning to be still. Are you still now, Butterfly? If I recall, at the time, I told you it was a difficult thing to imagine -- you being still. And now that I’ve learned Master Xi’s definition of the word, it’s difficult on most days to think of myself as being still. But today, maybe. Watching the sun rise over the mountain peaks, thinking about you as I write this, thinking about all you’ve told me through the years. A man once wanted to rid himself of his shadow. He ran and ran and ran under the hot sun, trying to escape it. Eventually, his heart burst from the exertion and he fell down, dead. Funny, if he’d only gone and sat under a nice, shady tree, his shadow would have disappeared.** Stillness ... Hermione, I hope that at the end of every day, you come home from the Aurory, ignore Kingsley Shacklebolt’s owls (I know he sends them, don’t bother denying it), and curl up in your manor with your Severus on something comfortable and push the shadows back into the corners. Be still. And I know you can. You’ve always been a better student than I. Although, I admit that this particular course of instruction is somewhat more appealing than our old schoolwork used to be. I like waking up at the crack of dawn. I like meditation. I like the simplicity of pulling the weeds from the ground. Somehow, I feel larger, living this small life, as if I’m part of some sort of pattern. It makes me think of what Albus used to say once in a while. ‘The whole is usually greater than the sum of its parts, Ron Weasley,’ he would tell me with that damnable twinkle in his eye. Maybe one day I’ll know what he means. My roundabout, rambling point is that my heart still hurts, most days. But it’s a good hurt and one that I may come to understand, in time. I may, one day, wake up and find that I am truly still. And now, my lovely Butterfly, Master Xi comes tapping at my door -- the onions wait for no man. Love, Ron P.S. As per usual, tell your Severus that if he breaks your heart, I’ll hunt him down and use his skull to practice the newest tricks Master Xi has taught me. I’m sure a few of my brothers (and Ginny, too, undoubtedly) would gladly assist me. FINIS **Footnote -- This is, indeed, a Taoist epigram (loosely translated from the English source I read it from, I’m sure). I am uncertain of its origins, but be assured that I’m nowhere near bright enough to come up with something so profound on my own. Endnotes: Dark Gods in the Blood very nearly didn’t get written on at least a dozen different counts, the largest reason being that I was afraid that I couldn’t tackle a story of the scope that I knew it would wind up being. Having said that, though, it’s been an enjoyable, albeit intense, ride. And I would like to take a moment, briefly, to acknowledge a few people and answer a few commonly asked questions. First of all, thanks a heap for reading and thanks an even bigger heap for reviewing. While I read each and every one of my reviews, I am unfortunately lax in replying to them. But if you did review, be assured that I paid attention to your comments. I wound up adding at least five pages (according to my formatting scheme, this comes out to a little more than 3000 words, roughly) of tweaking to a story that I had considered complete based on my reviews. While I didn’t, you know, add in extra chapters or anything, I did add short scenes and exposition bits. So a big thanks for telling me what you thought about my little tale. Now, onto the pertinent questions. Or, at least, the most common comments. I should probably say right off the bat that I never, ever intended Dark Gods to be a whodunit-type story, meaning I never intended it to be particularly possible for the reader to follow the evidence and “guess” the killer along with Hermione and Severus (although I like to think that knowing the conclusion, you can re-read the story and see that I’ve dropped subtle clues). But when I started receiving conjectures as to the identity of the killer as I posted chapters, I just couldn’t bring myself to say that -- I thought it might dispel all of that lovely tension I was attempting to build and render Severus’ introduction to our buddy Stan anti-climactic. Besides, some of your theories were absolutely fascinating. I think that every single character I even off-handedly mentioned in the story was a suspect, from eighteen-month old Alice Potter to not-even-appearing-for-a-full-scene, obvious-red-herring Draco Malfoy, with Dumbledore, Neville, and Dudley as the most-suggested suspects. My personal favorite theory, however, was the suggestion that the video game Soulblade had something to do with Harry’s death. Fifty points for originality ... Another issue that I received a fair number of comments/questions on was, of course, the romance question. There were, naturally, several potential pairings here (Ron/Hermione was suggested from the get-go, but as a natural Snape/Hermione ‘shipper, I find that pairing difficult to even read, much less write), and if I’d been writing a WIP, I suppose I could have been persuaded to have more of an overall romantic flavor to the story. But I’d decided in my, what, second outline that Françoise was going to attempt to seduce Ron and that Severus and Hermione were going to wind up “getting together” after the story ended, thus prompting the epilogue, actually. I wanted to allude to their relationship to give it some closure. Ron, though, has a way of whispering in my ear and he turned the epilogue into much more of a statement than the simple sum-up I’d originally intended. As I said, then, Dark Gods was about understanding, and I went back and forth on the romance issue myself in the writing. In the end, I decided that the characters I’d drawn here were far too hesitant and had entirely too many trust issues to come together within the timeframe of the actual story. Because, again, as with Ordinary People (shameless plug for my own work, yes?), I’d always intended this to be a very character-driven tale. An exploration of the quote that one of my old high-school teachers used to attribute to Karl Jung: “There is no coming to consciousness except through pain.” In many ways, I saw the ‘serial killer’ thread as secondary to this idea. Although quite necessary to the plot, both as resolution to Harry’s death and as a method of making this more than three hundred pages of people talking. And I will go ahead and confirm the rumors -- yes, I am a fan (not avid, just familiar enough to have read the entire Hannibal trilogy) of the work of Thomas Harris, and for the most part, the parallels people have drawn between certain elements of Silence of the Lambs and this story were deliberate. I wanted a broader tale, though, in that I was looking for more of a study of grief and loss through the human heart of darkness rather than Harris’ more explicit exploration of the heart itself. How Ron and Hermione, and ultimately even Severus himself, are transformed by this tragedy and its eventual resolution. I went creeping back through my old outlines and notes and I found something I wrote some months ago as I was struggling with some characterization issues (probably at three AM and jazzed out on caffeine) that sums up what I was trying to achieve with Dark Gods rather nicely: “I like to think that each of the main characters finds stillness (to borrow Ron’s phrase), in their own fashions -- an inner peace that was lacking, an acknowledgement of shadow-within-self ...” And you see why I thought this story was entirely too ambitious for me ... One last final thanks and then I’ll go away, I promise. To the one person with whom I talked about this story incessantly, about plot points and dialogue bits and every aspect of the writing process that writers find fascinating but no one else wants to hear about. But she listened to me at least ninety percent of the time, and for that I am eternally grateful. Anyway, if this story is dedicated to anyone, it’s dedicated to her. She knows who she is ... hayseed Started: 10 August 2003 |