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Quick! Iron my hands or clobber me over the head with a bottle
of Skele-Gro before I start another fan fic I don't have time
for! I really love the idea behind this one, but I've promised
myself I won't start it until either Teacups & Frogspawn or Reap
a Bitter Harvest is done...we'll see how long THAT resolution
lasts.
ANYWAY. The basic premise is that after the war (and this
somewhat AU...it's not how my Year Seven ends, so no spoilers on
that front), Harry, Hermione, and Ron find Ginny's diary but no
Ginny and they try to track her down based on what she's
written.
The
current excerpt that's hiding around is the "lead-in" to the
sequel. I'm <<not>> making any promises for a sequel, but if I
have time when Year Seven is wrapped up, I MAY write it.
**Okay, okay, so I STARTED Muggle Diaries Won't Write Back.
My spirit is willing but my flesh is weak. So shoot me.
***EDIT 1/10/06: Okay,
okay, so I WROTE the opening bit -- a teaser, if you will...
Muggle
Diaries Don’t Write Back
Ginevra – Ginny, I’d rather. Ginevra sounds pretentious. I’ve
been accused of many things but being ‘pretentious’ isn’t one of
them.
So
begins the diary of Ginny Weasley.
We
didn’t find it until after the war…months after, to be precise,
when we were the ones trying to pick up the pieces. No
one knew where she was, or even if she ‘was’ anymore. But here
was her diary and in the midst of nothingness -- in the void
left by war -- that was something. Someone, somewhere, had
salvaged the frilly pink curtains patched together from outmoded
taffeta dresses that had hung in her bedroom, and some
bewildered Hogwarts student had come bearing her Quidditch robes
– too large for her, as I remember, but with G. Weasley scrawled
across the back all the same. We tossed the curtains into a
dustbin on a street corner in Surrey, but clung to the diary and
those grass-stained robes. The sole tangible evidence that Ginny
Weasley had once existed, for war had turned her into a
nonentity, yet another name on a long trawling scroll of the
missing, a memory borne by amnesiacs...
And
so we were left to pick up the pieces, to salvage what was left
of Ginny as some kindly fool had salvaged those damn curtains.
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