Heh, flawed seems like a good prompt coming just after the East Wallingford Gazette!
Flawed Hermione had to request the plans from the Librarian and her stomach fluttered as though she'd had butterflies for breakfast when she put the request in. The Librarian gazed at the request, her pince-nez spectacles slipping slightly down her nose and needing to be pushed back up with a long, bony finger, and then nodded. Fifteen minutes later the plans were laid down on a reading table and Hermione was given a magical egg-timer that indicated she could study the plans for an hour and no longer. She was used to this: after an hour the plans would simply disappear, recalled to wherever they were stored, and they would take anything too close to them with them. Including a layer of skin from her hand or face if she happened to be touching them, or had fallen asleep on them. (Naturally she'd discovered this through a process of trial and error that Ronnie Weasel still regretted.) Her first discovery highlighted a flaw in her thinking; it was not surprising but definitely annoying: the plans were now protected by an anti-copying hex and when she tried to dispel it it slipped aside from her spell somehow and she removed a layer of varnish from the reading desk. "Makes sense," she muttered, though she thought that she personally would have put a stronger protection on them. "I suppose I can hand-draw the important bits." This idea also proved flawed: the anti-copying spell caused her pens to blot, her paper to tear and her hand to spasm unexpectedly until she was ready to burn the plans in a fit of rage. She glared at the timer and then started: half her time was gone already. "Fine," she muttered, though through clenched teeth the word was barely audible. She sat down again and started working through the plans. Moorhouse was easy enough to locate as she'd found it before, so she worked backwards, figuring out how to reach it from somewhere she already knew about. The Grip'n'gore House Tower doorway seemed like the obvious place, but after fifteen minutes -- three-quarters of her time gone already! -- she realised that the plans wouldn't allow this somehow. "Intent," she murmured, thoughts stirring in the back of her mind. "You wouldn't go to Moorhouse from Grip'n'gore unless you were a lecturer because you'd have no reason to be in Grip'n'gore in the first place. So I have to start from somewhere where a student shouldn't be." With that in mind things became a little easier, and as the plans disappeared with an audible pop she sat back in her chair, confident that she knew how to get to Moorhouse now from Professor Snipe's study.
Really enjoyed the level of protection around the plans. There were some neat details there. And... well, of course that's where she'll be starting. Of course.
2 comments:
Heh, flawed seems like a good prompt coming just after the East Wallingford Gazette!
Flawed
Hermione had to request the plans from the Librarian and her stomach fluttered as though she'd had butterflies for breakfast when she put the request in. The Librarian gazed at the request, her pince-nez spectacles slipping slightly down her nose and needing to be pushed back up with a long, bony finger, and then nodded. Fifteen minutes later the plans were laid down on a reading table and Hermione was given a magical egg-timer that indicated she could study the plans for an hour and no longer. She was used to this: after an hour the plans would simply disappear, recalled to wherever they were stored, and they would take anything too close to them with them. Including a layer of skin from her hand or face if she happened to be touching them, or had fallen asleep on them. (Naturally she'd discovered this through a process of trial and error that Ronnie Weasel still regretted.)
Her first discovery highlighted a flaw in her thinking; it was not surprising but definitely annoying: the plans were now protected by an anti-copying hex and when she tried to dispel it it slipped aside from her spell somehow and she removed a layer of varnish from the reading desk.
"Makes sense," she muttered, though she thought that she personally would have put a stronger protection on them. "I suppose I can hand-draw the important bits."
This idea also proved flawed: the anti-copying spell caused her pens to blot, her paper to tear and her hand to spasm unexpectedly until she was ready to burn the plans in a fit of rage. She glared at the timer and then started: half her time was gone already.
"Fine," she muttered, though through clenched teeth the word was barely audible. She sat down again and started working through the plans.
Moorhouse was easy enough to locate as she'd found it before, so she worked backwards, figuring out how to reach it from somewhere she already knew about. The Grip'n'gore House Tower doorway seemed like the obvious place, but after fifteen minutes -- three-quarters of her time gone already! -- she realised that the plans wouldn't allow this somehow.
"Intent," she murmured, thoughts stirring in the back of her mind. "You wouldn't go to Moorhouse from Grip'n'gore unless you were a lecturer because you'd have no reason to be in Grip'n'gore in the first place. So I have to start from somewhere where a student shouldn't be."
With that in mind things became a little easier, and as the plans disappeared with an audible pop she sat back in her chair, confident that she knew how to get to Moorhouse now from Professor Snipe's study.
Greg - hah! Unintentional, but point well made.
Really enjoyed the level of protection around the plans. There were some neat details there. And... well, of course that's where she'll be starting. Of course.
Post a Comment