She went to Yahoo and tried to sign into her email account. When she was told that it didn't exist, she felt a combination of disappointment and relief. *Just as well. If it was there, that would mean that there was another me out there somewhere, and that would be too weird for words. I'd be tempted to talk to myself, and I don't want to do that in any but the most conventional manner. And if my other self is as convinced that she might be crazy as I am... Now I'm confusing myself. Ah, well--I get the thrill of signing up for all new mailing lists. Joy!*

The real joy was in finding out that this version of Yahoo hadn't yet made it nearly impossible to search for adult categories in the groups. *And slash and fanfiction exists here. Yay! I don't have to invent it. But somehow the net just doesn't seem right without Harry Potter smut, and I can't write any, since it would be Real Person fiction. Okay, first I join a few lists to get my bearings...*

Soon she had a new Yahoo account set up, under youwouldntbelieveifItoldu, and was happily joining mailing lists. *No Sentinel lists. WHY are there no Sentinel lists? And no X Files...*

*Flash*

"Cause that would be Real Person fic ovah here, too."

*squeak* "Strife! Brother, it's a damn good thing I didn't have my usual mouthful of Diet Pepsi. If I hurt my computer I'd have to try to kill you."

"Nice ta know ya have yer priorities straight."

"What the hell do you mean by it would be Real Person fic?"

"Hang on." He put his arms around her so that he could reach the keyboard and started typing. "Google, right? Okay, search fah Garrett Maggart."

*typetypetype* *click* "Nothing. What happened to all of Garrett's fan sites?"

"Now search fah David Duchovney."

*typetypetype* *click* "The Duchovney family reunion--no Davids." *typetypetype* *click* "No X Files." She looked up, staring into the middle distance. "So this means that there's a Sentinel, a Guide, an obsessed FBI agent, and a super sexy green-eyed devil of a triple-agent out there somewhere?"

"Yup."

"R-i-i-i-g-h-t."

"Hell, woman, ya accepted gettin dumped in tha Potter Universe easily enough. This is a stretch?"

She thought about it for a moment. "You're right. Now I wish I'd paid more attention to the last season of X Files so I'd know how the hell it turned out." She started typing again industriously.

"Whatcha doin?"

"Hell, I'm gonna track down Blair Sandburg and try to establish an email correspondence with him."

"Good choice."

"Incidentally, what are you doing up here? The mischief I thought you were about to precipitate didn't happen--unless having the kids show up was the mischief."

"Somethin else is gonna happen soon. I c'n feel it in my bones." Scribe immediately hugged the computer, glaring at him. "Chill. I ain't screwin with yer electronics. I got bettah sense."

Neville Longbottom came into the room. "Ron said you had some sort of a magic box up here."

Scribe looked at Strife. "Do I recall you saying something about recommending Neville to Dite?"

Strife nodded. "He's gettin it early an' often."

"How old are you, Neville?"

He blinked at her. "I'm almost sixteen."

"Old enough for the R rated stuff, I guess." She crooked a finger at him. "Come over and I'll show you something really interesting. You look like a Lord of the Rings sort to me. I'm sure I can find something with Galadriel or Arwen in it for you."

Neville came over. Soon Scribe had Neville resting his chin on one of her shoulders, and Strife resting his chin on the other. "Scribe," said Neville, "what does 'they sank into a haze of sensual splendor' mean?"

"It's the literary equivalent of a fade to black, and it means no nookie details. Damn, boy, don't blush so much. I can feel the heat from your cheeks."

Strife slapped her on the shoulder. "Ya seem ta have this undah control. I'll see ya latah."

*Flash*

"I thought he'd never leave."

"Not a very nice sentiment, Neville," said Scribe.

"That wasn't me," Neville assured her.

"It wasn't? Then who...?"

A tall, supercilious looking man with long (very long) blond (very blond) hair appeared. Neville gasped. "Lucius Malfoy!"

"No! Really?" said Scribe.

"Yes, really!" Neville said earnestly. "You must believe me."

"Sarcasm, Neville. Remarks that mean the opposite of what they seem to say. Mister Malfoy, I can't believe that you're supposed to be here. Entering a place invisible would tend to indicate a certain amount of sneakiness."

"Yes, well, it isn't an official parents' visiting day, and if one simply shows up at Hogwarts, there is likely to be awkward questions. Considering my agenda, I thought it prudent to practice discretion."

Scribe looked at Neville. "Translation: he's up to something."

Lucius smiled at her. It could be considered a very charming smile--if one were a wolf, or possibly a shark. "You defame me, dear lady." He came closer. "Draco informed me of your unfortunate circumstances, and I've come to offer my sympathies, and possible assistance."

Scribe slid out of her chair and quickly pushed Neville behind her. "Watch it--he's being polite--and to a Muggle! He's definitely up to something." She reached quickly into her robes and pulled out her wand. "Stay back, Malfoy. I have a snarky wand, and I'm not afraid to use it!"

He folded his arms, raising one eyebrow. "How? To scratch your back?"

"Hey!" said Neville indignantly. "She can so use a wand. Why she's almost as good as me."

Scribe groaned at Lucius' smirk. "Thanks, Neville. Jump to my defense any old time."

He frowned. "Sarcasm again?"

"We don't have time to discuss semantics right now. Why are you here, Malfoy?"

"I couldn't pass up the chance to see an over-thirty virgin who wasn't either hideously ugly, massively deformed, or as frigid as the North Sea in winter."

"God, you people are easily amused. You've had your look, now vacate."

He nodded. "You'll do. He rather likes a snappish attitude in his new pets. He has so much fun breaking them."

Her eyes got round. "I do not believe it! Not that hoary old chestnut. Not 'the new student is singled out and kidnapped by the Arch Villain for a Fate Worse Than Death'." She regarded him narrowly. "I hardly think that just pimping for Voldy would get you the sort of power you crave. What else are you planning?"

"Well, there are a few spells that require the participation of a virgin, and at least one that requires the actual passing of the virgin state. And in some of these, if you try it with a non-virgin, the results can be... very nasty. Better safe than sorry, and do you know how hard it is to be absolutely sure? Even breaking into a gynecologist's office and riffling his records wouldn't do much good--a lot can happen between the doctor's office and home."

"Neville," she whispered in the boy's ear, "learn something here. This is one of the great advantages of fictional villains--their tendency to take the time to explain their plans instead of having a grain of sense and just getting on with it. Tell me, can you run and scream?"

"You'd better believe it."

"Good boy. Raise the roof."

Neville did. Judging from the sounds he still had a couple of years to go before his voice dropped. He pelted straight for the door, screaming in a manner that would have made any self-respecting banshee sit up and take notice.

Lucius, of course, didn't intend to allow him to escape. He drew his wand and started to gesture at Neville. It would never be known exactly what spell or curse he intended to use, because Scribe used her wand first. The thing was, she used it in the manner she knew would be most effective, given her current level of competence--she threw it. It worked better than anyone had a right to expect. It smacked Lucius square in the mouth.

"Right in the mush!" Lenny squeaked happily in her mind. "Ow. Clumsy cow." That was his response to clattering to the floor.

Neville made it out the door and started down the stairs. Whatever the boy lacked, it wasn't lung power. His yelling penetrated through even the thick stone walls of Hogwarts, and people began to notice, and gather.

In the Gryffindor common room, the student's, Strife, and Dite looked up from the pile of green robes they were stitching on. "What the bloody hell is that?" asked Ron.

Dite bounced up (nearly causing whiplash in a couple of the boys), and gasped, "That's a mama tiger yell if I ever heard one!"

As if to confirm her statement, words became audible. "You threatened a kid! No one threatens a kid!"

Strife dropped his the robe he was working on. "Oo, someone got Scribe pissed! He damn sure bettah hope she ain't still got that '*I write it, so let it be' thing goin on for here like she does in our universe."

Everyone started for the portrait. Consequently there was a hell of a traffic jam as several people tried to wiggle through at once. The Fat Lady complained bitterly, but of course, no one listened. By the time they spilled out into the hall, the noises were coming closer. Neville Longbottom was running toward them. He was wide-eyed, but he was running out of steam, and his screams were winding down toward gasps and squeaks. He fell against the wall, panting, "Mah... Mah..."

"Blimey," said Ron. "What ever it is has him calling for his Mum, and she's..."

Hermione (who had probably been studying Scribe techniques), bonked him on the head. "Pillock! He's trying to say 'Malfoy', aren't you, Neville?" Neville nodded breathlessly. "Senior or junior." Neville stretched his hand up over his head. Looks were exchanged, and everyone started running.

Members of the other houses were also being drawn toward the sounds of the altercation. Scribe could be heard yelling, "If you hurt that computer you'll only think Voldemort is a bad ass! You've never seen me when someone messes with my 'net fix!"

*thump* *crash*

There was the unmistakable whishing sound of a spell being cast.

"Hah! Gotta have better aim than that, Wandboy! Gimme that..."

Crabbe and Goyle might not be fast, but they were very good at bulling their way to the front of any group, and they led the way up the stairs. In fact, they were the first ones to come in view of the open door, just in time to hear...

"Woman, if you don't let go of that, I'll..." And a high pitched scream.

The scream was not female, though it did approach falsetto. Crabbe and Goyle both winced. Crabbe looked at Goyle. "That tears it. Women are too damn dangerous. I'm gay."

Goyle nodded. "Okay. Wanna go make out?" They left, ignoring the retching sounds of some of the other students with delicate sensibilities.

Scribe's voice floated out again. "How am I supposed to take you seriously when you look so much like that elf in the Lords of the Rings movie? I keep expecting to see pointy ears and hear you say something snotty about dwarves."

"You're mad!"

"I've never denied it."

*crack* *pop*

Hermione said, "He ported! That was the sound of air rushing into the vacuum he left."

"Thank you, Miss Science. You kids can come in, now. He's gone."

They entered cautiously. Scribe was setting her chair upright again. There was a faint, fading shimmer on the far wall, and she pointed at it. "Don't touch that. I don't know exactly what it was he threw at me, but I'm assuming it was some sort of paralyzing or unconsciousness spell. It might still be a little active."

"What happened?" asked Harry.

"Didn't Neville...? No, of course not. He probably won't be able to speak properly till dinner time. Kidnap attempt. No biggie--they only sent one. In fact, it was probably all Lucius' idea, to curry favor. He's an ambitious git. Git... God, I love British slang." Some of the teachers finally arrived. "About time. I think you people need to re-vamp your security system."

Ron said, "But they'd never use vamps as security guards! They might get hungry, and..."

Hermione bonked him again. Scribe said, "Thank you." Dumbledore came in, and she waved at him. "You missed it."

He eyed the spell residue on the wall narrowly. "So it seems. I heard Lucius Malfoy mentioned?"

"Somehow or other he found out about my maiden state." She looked pointedly at Draco, who sidled out of the room quickly. "Anyway, seems there's a call for certified virgins for various Dark Magic bits, and he thought he'd earn some brownie points by pulling me kicking and screaming to the Dark Side." She gave a fake villain's 'mwha ha ha!' laugh, then said flatly, "He miscalculated."

"So it would seem. How did you manage to best him?"

"It wasn't all that hard. I'm a woman, and a Muggle--he wasn't expecting much. I suppose he thought I'd shriek, and maybe pummel his manly chest with my dainty fists." She grinned. "Defense Against the Dark Arts are all well and good, but very little can compare with a good, solid knee to the crotch, followed up by a grab-and-twist. The robes make it a little chancier for the aim, but..."

"Yes, yes--I see." Dumbledore, and indeed all the males in the room, had turned a little green.

"He's for it now," said Harry. "The Ministry of Magic will have to arrest him."

Scribe shrugged. "They'll TRY, but I seriously doubt that he'll just slink home to lick his wounds..." She stopped abruptly, getting a wicked smile on her face. "Nooo, I'm not going to say it. It's too easy, and there are children present. Anyway, I'm sure he'll go underground quicker than a bunny in a rainstorm."

"I fear you're right," sighed Dumbledore. "Lucius is far too cunning to not have an escape plan, and a network of co-conspirators in place. Still, we must try. I'll inform the Ministry. But Scribe, how DID you keep from being hexed? Surely he tried again after he missed."

"I didn't give him a chance." She pointed to two splintered pieces of wood lying near her feet. "I broke his freakin' wand over his head."