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How A Boy Who Lived Became A Legend
Ten years ago as we well know.... a boy became a wizard in The Socerer's Stone.
A year older then, wand raised with no regrets, he boldly took on his darkest enemy in The Chamber of Secrets.
Daunting dementors, and taunting rivals, whirling at him in the third year at hand, he uncovered the past, and discovered a man, a Prisoner of Azkaban. To the Dursley's he never did wish to go back, once met he his godfather, the noble Sirius Black.
Fighting dragons, rash wild branches, and mermaids in the toss and toil of black waves, not to mention a twisting tangle of a maze, was naught compared to what young Harry would face upon being stolen away to a forlorn dark grave. Losing dear friend, a most horrid sight to see, t'was the wrongful end of dear Mr. Diggory. So happened this ressurrestion of a dark enemy's ire, how Harry did suffer at the whim of The Goblet of Fire.
Age fifteen, no longer a boy but a man, Harry is haunted by dreams from a most pale, deathly hand. Oppressed by authorative ty
May the Spell be Unbroken
Harry cast Draco a look of utter disgust, which was of course returned with the same snide smirk. Draco Malfoy lay sprawled across the handsome couch in the Gryffindor common room, as if he owned the place, his head resting comfortably in Ally's lap. Ally's delicate fingers begin stroking Malfoy's white blonde hair gingerly, and Harry was reminded of a similar scene. He thought back to the many hours he'd spent aboard the Hogwarts Express, and remembered how Pansy used to stoke Malfoy's hair, beaming down at him, her eager fingers never stopping. Then he had to smother a chuckle as he also remembered her accidently catching his eye lid with her long nails.
Draco too remembered. He rubbed his eye, marveling how much better Ally was at this. She puts you to shame, Pansy, he thought amusingly, laying his arm across his stomach in a leisurely manner. Pansy Parkinson, a fellow Slyther
He's Here To Pick Up The Pieces
He broke my heart. I watched him, this supposed to be shining knight, the prince I'd always dreamed of, pretend to cherish it as he took it in his hands. But once my heart was his, once this gleaming heart shaped orb was in his palm, he trifled with it. Recklessly. Up in the air it went, behind his back, back and forth, hand to hand as if it were nothing more than a toy. Then.... he tossed it up far too high, he was simply not quick enough, and with tear striken eyes, I watched the delicate glass of my heart, shatter into thousands of shards. He looked at me, right into my emerald eyes, and then swiftly walked away, as if none of it had ever happened. He left me there, and I fell to my knees. He left me too look upon the ruins of the love I so willingly gave him. He left me with nothing but brokeness, and haunting memories. Memories I once treasured, memories that dillusioned me into thinking he'd one day be mine. Weeping I reached for the broken pieces, their knife like edges leaving
To Kiss A King
"The wizard boy has enchanted you, I know this....." Loki said to her softly, turning his raven-haired head just slightly as he stroked her long, sweeping curls. "For every frustation the two of you appear to be a matching set......But I am honored to hold the light of your favor for however long it lasts, even if its brilliance is as fleeting as the day." He offered her a coy half smile, his piercing blue eyes filling with light as he took her hand. "For truly, how might even I hold such beauty forever? Allyssa Summerhaze grinned and blushed, very much enjoying the Asguardian's soft, gentle touch, feeling oddly soothed by his very presence, longing to be closer to him. She looked up into such startling blue eyes, with bashful admiration, running her thumb across the top of his fingers. "If my favor is the light you hold, then you hold the very sun in your hands, even now, fair Loki."
Loki couldn't help it. He grinned his widest and most dazzling yet, his eyes softening, crinkling at t
Sherlock And The Pretty Girl in the Posh Pea Coat
The fog thickened in the faint light of an all white rising sun, and settled into London's Trafalgar Square, as if the clouds themselves had descended from the glowing grey heavens above, blanketing all in mist and mistique. The normally bustling beloved locale was nearly vacant due to the earliness of the hour, and the strangeness of the weather. There was however, one lovely young woman seated on a bench in the square, not repelled by the fog like so many, but attracted to it like one chasing a dream. This was heaven, her heaven, when modern day London was transformed by all the alluring secrets, and mysterious beauty of the past into the setting of stories she so loved, the very air alive with romance, danger, and intrigue. A feeling that was left in another time, that beckoned to her, reaching for her even now. She smiled softly to herself, breathing it all in, letting it overwhelm her senses. She pulled her posh lavender pea coat a bit tighter, smiling to herself, watching the whi
Prisoner of Vengeance Part 2, In Enemy Hands.
I stared out into space, quite literally, I thought with a slightly amused half smile, thousands upon thousands of diamond stars whirling by, as I peered out from the bridge of my speeding prison, the towering terror that was Kahn's Vengeance. Even with my back turned to him, I could feel those cool calculating jade eyes upon me, focusing intently. The chills racing down my spine were the unnecessary confirmation of that....... I could almost see him back there, leaning back leisurely in his Captain's chair, the bit of his sleek black hair that had hung so wildly in his eyes had been slicked back in its proper place, his long, muscular arms on the rests, his reaching, slender fingers tapping the space just above the controls repeatedly as he watched me, as if I was the only one there with him in the crowded bridge. Every so often he would answer a question, give an order, verify coordinates, yet still those eyes never left my turned back. I knew what he was doing. I knew he
Prisoner of Vengeance Part 4 Embracing Danger Sc 1
The explosion shot violently across the scorching desert sky in fiery plumes, the image searing my eyes, and resounding in my afflicted mind. The deafening roar, the horrified, confused screams, the prolonged groan of mangled titanium making swift impact with the dunes, burning sand raining down, all of it culminating in such a symphony of sorrow, causing me to shake. The speeding starship, ablaze, screaming at breakneck speed towards its doom, desecrated, getting torn to silver shreds. There's a faint sound of shattering glass accompanying the more painful roars as an officer is thrown through the bridge window, dropping hard into the swirling sands, already dead. There's nothing left to identify the ill-fated vessel now, save for some badly burned off lettering, and I can only make out a barely intelligible, "VAL."
I felt my body toss and turn, shaking violently now. The ship ceased its groaning, dead. The screams felt louder and louder until they consumed my entire conscious. Starfl
Prisoner of Vengeance Part 3, Fighting Kirk's War
The young captain's usually striking bright blue eyes, lacked their usual boyish charm, looking exhausted today, as Starfleet as a whole was reduced to complete and utter chaos. His regulation transmitter had been beeping angrily since five yesterday, and he couldn't remember a time when it sat calm and still, not accusing him of raging careless failure. Right now, he stood in the newly reconstructed Daystrom Institute, his transmitter buzzing on the edge of the table, nearly about to fall off, while the captains and first officers of every vessel in the fleet, all spoke at once, in panicked tones, asking him the thousands of questions that he'd already tried asking himself but still couldn't answer. How many dead? Had the hyper-gravity device been faulty? How could Khan possibly know of the takedown? What was his next move? How many more would die? What could Starfleet do in terms of defensive maneuvers? How did Khan appear to be on course to fly over the desert when he so obviously w
STAR TREK, Prisoner of Vengeance
The overhead sun with its sweltering rage, beat down relentlessly upon me, as if fulfilling a personal vendetta. Beads of sweat rolled down the curve of my back, causing the black fabric of my tank top to stick and cling to it. I could almost feel my pale skin burning beneath the rays, and my long, brunette curls hung heavy and hot around my neck and shoulders. Wearily, I reached around the back of my head, pulling my hair to the side, the hazy, unforgiving sun zapping my strength, as I nearly collapsed onto the ground, letting the sleek black bag I had shouldered, fall beside me into the burning sand. Breathing laboriously, I rose up onto my knees over the bag, unzipping it with extreme care. As hot and miserable as it was, I could feel the tremors of excitement in my fingers as I eased the long and narrow bag the rest of the way open. I had a mission. A real, Starfleet Mission, from none other than Captain Kirk, himself!! A mission...... that could potentially save the world.
Original Character, Ally Summerhaze
My orignal character's name is Ally Summerhaze, and she's based very much on me She is a Gryffindor, very close to Harry, Ron, and Hermione, and she is a prodigy in Transfiguration. She came to Hogwarts her third year where she made quick friends with The Boy Who Lived, and he's become like a brother to her. Harry despises that she's dating his arch enemy Draco Malfoy, and is convinced that the sneaky Slytherin is up to some nefarious plot to hurt her. Hogwarts has never seen a Slytherin and Gryffindor get along... much less fall in love.
Ally is about 5' 6 with spiraling chocolate curls, an angular chin, and sweet emerald eyes a touch lighter than Harry's. She's just as pale as her Slytherin Prince, known for her bubbly personality, love of books, and enchantment with Hogwarts most powerful and popular Slytherin.
To depression, for creating days without endWake up to the realization that you've been awake
for seconds, minutes, hours.
You've been awake in this warm, dark room
and you don't know how long it's been
but now you're conscious
and it starts again--
the pain, strong and steady, in your chest.
You gain consciousness in this too warm morning
and your thoughts whir in endless loops
because it's either that or face the weight in your chest.
Light breaks though the window, soft and unwelcome
but you take it as a reluctant gift--
a new distraction from the feelings awake in your chest.
Awake, but not conscious.
So you think yourself in circles a little while longer
waiting for those quiet pains
(the constant reminder)
to gain consciousness.
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More