Summary: Charlie's recruitment of foreign wizards is yielding results, one by the name of Edward Elric. Getting him the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts position is only the first step to convince him to join the Order. X-over with OotP

Disclaimer: All characters, locations in Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. Edward Elric and the homunculus belong to Hiromu Arakawa.

Kings Cross Station, a major railway station in London, one of several in fact. It was neither the biggest nor the busiest, yet it was from this station that the Hogwarts Express decided to make its departure. Of all the ways humans invented to travel, Edward Elric always preferred trains. It reminded him of the years he spent in Amestris, travelling with Al. Amestris was a world he got, he grew up in it. The same could not be said for this world.

Edward took out his ticket for the hundredth's time this morning, and for the hundredth time, the ticket read "Platform nine and three quarters".

"Who the hell numbers platforms in quarters?" he asked on one in particular. The question was rhetorical. Wizards, that's who. He stared glumly at the space between platforms 9 and 10, hoping to find a small, magical sign pointing to platform 9 3/4. The large clock hanging over the arrivals board read dangerous close to 11. Edward did not want to contemplate the consequences of missing this train.

It occurred to him that where ever platform 9 3/4 was, its location was common knowledge in the magical community. Since he couldn't ask for directions without revealing his ignorance of this world - not that the normal people in the station could help much, it is a magical place - Edward was on the prowl for the magical folk. One thing he learned very early following his induction in to the world of wizardry, was the most efficient – and inconspicuous – way blend in with the magical world is to follow other wizards. As the saying goes, "when in Rome…"

Magical folks were easy to spot, if you knew what you were looking for. It always amazed Edward, how isolated magical people are from their non-magical counter-parts, even when they lived in the same house. Magic developed in the absence of technology allowed the persistence of centuries old traditions and values, while the evolution of machines in the non-magical world forced its people to change to their environment. Sometimes, quite often actually, old magical families simply did not keep up with the lifestyle of the non-magical populace. This became glaringly obvious when they are forced to intermingle on occasions such as this.

He scanned the platforms for anyone who did not quite fit in, carrying uncommon pieces of luggage or wearing odd clothing. In his periphery, he spotted a small family. The father was tall with long, pale blond hair and a pointed face. He wore a long green cloak and an ornate cane. His wife was as tall as him. She was in a long, sweeping black dress that Edward thought was more suited for dinner at a high class restaurant than a trip on the train. They looked like aristocrats nearly a century out of date.

'Bingo,' he thought as a wide grin broke out of his face. 'Stand out like a sore thumb in this place.'

Only their son, having inherited the same pointed face as his father, seemed to have the fashion matching the times, though the owl on his trolley made him stand out as much as his parents. He watched as the three approached the barrier separating platform 9 from platform 10, and in the blink of an eye, disappeared. The rational part of him thought he lost track the family in the crowd at first. Then he remembered the odd customs of wizards and witches.

"Right, secret entrances," he mumbled, picking up his own suitcase and headed to the barrier. It looked as solid as a rock. But looks can be deceiving, especially if magic's involved, Edward couldn't help but wonder if there was some secret latch he was supposed to pull first. Or maybe a sequential series of taps. Before he could test any of his theory, a boy of no older than twelve pushed his trolley right up to the barrier and disappeared behind it. There were no secret movements… he just simply walked up to the wall, and disappeared. Mustering up his courage, Edward marched resolutely towards the barrier and prayed to whatever deity that listened he wasn't about to make a fool of himself by walking into a wall, not that he believed in gods. He was an atheist after all.

The train was packed with children, students no doubt. Given the difficulty he had finding to the platform, there were hardly any empty compartments left. The only one he found was at the very end. He barely managed to stow his battered leather suitcase atop the luggage rack when the compartment door opened. A small, blond girl looked at him with disappointed, glassy blue eyes. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but whatever she was about to say was cut off as the door involuntarily slid close.

Having given his suitcase one last push to make sure it was secure, Edward pulled the door back.

"Excuse me, you were about to say something," Edward asked. The girl turned back, her eyes widened in surprise.

"Y-Yes," her voice had a dreamy quality, "Is this compartment taken?"

Edward shook his head in reply, stepped away from the door to let the girl enter. She had her wand tucked behind her ear and was wearing a necklace strung of beer caps. It didn't take a genius to figure out that she was one of the stranger magical folk. Somehow, Edward suspected strangeness was inherited among wizards. She pulled out a magazine from her trunk before stowing it in the overhead compartment, and was rapidly engrossed. For a lack of better things to do, Edward turned his gaze back to the platform, more specifically, the barrier between the two platforms. He wondered forlornly how many more hidden barriers he would have to cross before he can get back home. It was then he noticed a man with a head of shocking red hair coming through.

'Charlie?' he thought.

On closer inspection, he was not. Charlie was shorter and stockier. This boy was much too young. He was accompanied by thin, balding man in pinstriped pants with an old bomber jacket, and a girl with big bushy brown hair. They made to join a larger group consisting of a plump red-head woman, spectacled boy with messy black hair and an old lady wearing a purple porkpie hat being serviced by a porter. As they loaded their luggage, he noticed the porter was sporting a limp and not helping the passengers at all. He seemed more intent on muttering to the old lady. They were joined by a set of twins and a younger girl, all with the same flaming red hair, accompanied by a graying middle-aged man in very tattered clothes. The plump woman was giving out multiple hugs, to which the older, probably late teens, twin boys showed much objection, and left the group swiftly to join their friends. It made Edward nostalgic of the times Winry, Mustang, or Armstrong – or even Hughes – would see the Elric brothers off on their journey. Of course, there was no one but him now, not even his father (who died about 30 years ago, or so the records say).

Before he had time to contemplate the lingering presence of the limpy porter, skiving off his job, Edwards spotted a large shaggy black dog wagging its tail among the eclectic group. Edward froze as a wave of recognition hit. The train whistle blew and for a brief moment, the dog stood on its hind legs and padded the bespectacled boy with messy black hair on the shoulder.

"Dog-man," he gasped and leapt out of his seat.

He ran towards the front of the train, not bothering to apologize to the people he bumped into, but the doors were already shut.

"Sorry lad, the train's moving," said the attendant.

"But –" Edward argued, pushing the attendant out of the way. He pressed his hands on the door, and was about to alchemize the door open, when the sight of the dog running after the train stopped him.

'There's no doubt about it. It's him,' Edward thought. 'It's Sirius.'

Almost a year after Edward crossed the Gate, he found refuge in his father's cottage on the east coast of England. He was there in hopes of gaining more information about this world and to find a way to get back. He took to running in the early mornings to stay in shape and to clear his mind. It was during one of these runs that he found a large black dog washed up on the beach. As he approached the pathetic creature, the dog promptly turned into a man. At first, Edward thought he'd ran into Envy, but the man simply laid there, unconscious. He dragged the dog-turned-man to his room and set about installing the strongest barricade possible, just in case it really was Envy. A search of his soggy, tattered black robes revealed only a copy of a newspaper that remained remarkably dry in which the pictures moved.

The Dog-man did not regain consciousness until the next morning. After a thorough interrogation, confirming he wasn't the blasted homunculus, Edward proceeded to extract as much information as possible about his transformation. From this man, Edward learned the existence of 'magic' and the users of said 'magic'. He spent the next three days in the cottage, days which Edward spent writing down everything he was saying – coded, of course.

The Dog-man's name, he learned (mostly because his face was plastered on every newspaper for a week), was Sirius Black - a wanted mass murderer. He sometimes wondered if he'd have taken the man in if he knew this beforehand. Not that Sirius showed any murderous tendencies towards Edward. On the contrary, he made for quite interesting company. He was most intrigued when Edward challenged the science behind "magic". In the end, Sirius directed him to Daigon Alley in London, where he "might find better minds to have a debate with", with a friendly advice, "try not to act like a muggle." (A "muggle" was someone who did not possess magic, which according to Sirius, Edward was not.) By the time Edward found out about his fugitive status, Sirius was long gone. His parting gift was a copy of the magical newspaper "Daily Prophet", though missing a photograph.

"Excuse me," said the peeved attendant, tapping Edward on the shoulder. "But I'm going to have to ask you to return to your seat."

"Ah, sorry," he said hastily. "I thought I saw an old acquaintance."

The attendant raised a skeptical eyebrow, and Edward made his way back to the end of the train.

From what he'd learned upon his arrival in London, Sirius Black was a dangerous criminal who murdered twelve muggles (non-magical people) and one wizard (magical person) in broad daylight. He was also, supposedly, the right-hand man of an extremely evil wizard (whom everyone knows, but no one must name), and an extreme muggle-hater. By association, this made Sirius an avid muggle-hater. The thirteen murders certainly seem to support this. Yet in his time spent with the convicted criminal, he did not give the aura of a killer. Having been in the army since he was twelve, Edward had intimate knowledge of the ways of killers. On the contrary, he seemed quite amused by Edward's "muggle" ways. For in the first meeting, he made no secret he didn't believe in magic, even as he watched Sirius change from man to dog and back again half a dozen times. (Envy could do that too, and it wasn't because of magic.)

"Magic is what people call things they don't understand," he stubbornly insisted.

Since their impromptu meeting two years ago, Edward's been keeping an ear out for his whereabouts, but to no avail. King's Cross was the last place he expected to see Sirius. Seeing the way he was happily bounding after the train, he might as well be Den. And perhaps it was Winry, Granny Pinako, Mustang, and Armstrong behind him on the platform. He scoffed, but he still felt the dull pang of loss in his heart. When he returned to his compartment, it took him a second to realize it had three new arrivals.

Harry and Neville were in the middle of stowing their trunks when the compartment door slid open. It was a handsome boy he did not recognize. He had piercing gold eyes and long blond hair tied in a pony tail behind his back, with long messy bangs hanging at the sides of his face. He was wearing thick white gloves and large red coat that obscured much of his person. Harry thought he couldn't have been much older than himself.

"Sorry, but this compartment's full," said Ginny.

Golden eyes widened for a fraction of a second before turning to Luna, then Harry and Neville in one full sweep.

"I was here first," he pointed to a beaten leather suitcase on the steps that Harry previously thought belonged to the girl named Luna. He spoke an odd accent that Harry couldn't place.

"Oh, I didn't see," she sent a glance to Luna, who had not taken her gaze off of Harry. "Sorry," Ginny said hastily, a distinct blush creeping up her cheeks.

He waved his hand in dismissal and moved in to take the window seat.

"I'm Ginny Weasley by the way."

"Edward Elric," then he added, "You wouldn't be... do you have a brother named Charlie?"

Ginny blinked in surprise. "Yeah. How did you know him?"

"He mentioned he had a sister. And the hair is pretty much a dead giveaway." He let out a chuckle as Ginny flushed a colour that rivaled her hair. Harry noticed he didn't really answer the question.

"Um… yes, it is rather… identifiable."

His eyes seem to light up as he caught sight of Harry and the corner of his lips tipped slightly upward.

"Had a good summer, Luna?" Ginny asked, drawing the subject away from the Weasley hair.

"Yes," Luna replied, she had been watching unblinkingly over her upside down magazine. "Yes, it was quite enjoyable, you know. You're Harry Potter," she added.

"I know I am," said Harry. He stole a sideways glance at this Elric person, who looked quite amused.

Neville chuckled. Luna turned her pale eyes upon him instead.

"And I don't know who you are."

"I'm nobody," said Neville hurriedly.

"No you're not," said Ginny sharply. "Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood. Luna's in my year, but in Ravenclaw."

"Wit beyond measure in man's greatest treasure," said Luna in a singsong voice.

She raised her magazine, high enough to hide her face and fell silent. The two boys looked at each other with their eyebrows raised. Ginny suppressed a giggle.

"Harry, Neville, and I are all Gryffindors," she explained. "So which house are you in?"

The four houses were something Edward read about, as research in preparation for his job. Each of the founders of Hogwarts valued one quality above all else. So every student, since the founding of the school, has been sorted into one of these houses. The house of Gryffindor valued bravery and chivalry, Hufflepuff was loyalty and dedication, Ravenclaw was wit, and... There was one house, as he recall, the one Mustang would fit right at home. Ambition, determination and self-preservation: a complete description of the Colonel. It had a symbol of a snake, Ss... Sly...

"Slytherin?" He didn't realize he said it out loud until he saw the blanched looks on Harry, Neville, and Ginny while the look of permanent surprise didn't change much on Luna.

"Oh," Ginny uttered.

"No, that's not what I mean. I'm not –" Having finally understood what's going on, Edward did his best to clear up the misunderstanding. But before he could explain, there was a sharp knock on the door followed by a cheerful voice.

"Anything from the trolleys, dear?"

Harry got out rather quickly, and came back with an armful of wizard candy, most of which Edward did not recognize. After the devouring of candy, which Edward was not a part of – not that he minded, wizard candy was not really to his tastes – Neville began talking about the cactus-looking thing that was his birthday present.

Edward took the time scrutinizing the bespectacled boy – Harry. He was sure Sirius patted him on the shoulder at the platform. He was just as sure that the crowd of redheads he saw was the rambunctious family Charlie so often talked about. So that means the Weasleys adopted Sirius? He almost wanted to laugh. Given the chance, he was sure Al would've adopted all the stray cats in Amestris. Then again, there was no danger of the cats secretly being murderers. On the other hand – maybe Sirius sought them out.

The picture missing from the news paper accompanied an article on a family of lottery winners – the Weasleys. Did Sirius leave to find the Weasleys because they came into money, so that he could secure himself a well-off family? He must've stayed as a dog to avoid detection. This explains why nobody has been able to catch him these last two years. Yet, he still couldn't shake the nagging feeling of suspicion. In his time with the military, he learned about infiltration: blending in with your surroundings as to catch your target off guard. Their family, though large, arrived in small, inconspicuous groups. Then there was that limpy porter. It had to be a disguise. Porters, while common in train stations, were rarely handicapped.

He was jolted out of his thought by a sharp scream, followed immediately by a splash of thick, slimy, green goo. It was thanks to his quick reflexes, developed under the tutelage of Izumi Curtis and honed through years in the army, that he managed not to get any of the goo on his face. His coat, on the other hand, was completely ruined.

"What the hell's this?" Edward yelled before Neville had the chance to apologize. The entire compartment was covered, and the smell of rancid manure was making him nauseous.

"S-sorry," Neville gasped. "I haven't tried that before... Didn't realize... Don't worry, though, Stinksap's not poisonous," he added as Harry spat a mouthful onto the floor. It appeared Harry was the only one to get a face full, save his eyes behind his glasses, maybe it had to do with the toad he was holding.

The door slid open and a girl with long black hair was standing in the doorway, smiling at Harry.

"Oh... hi," Harry said.

"Um... Well... Just thought I'd say hello...'bye then." And the girl left.

Harry slumped back in his seat and groaned.

"Who was that?" Edward asked.

"Cho Chang, the Ravenclaw seeker," Ginny explained, shaking her head. She pulled out her wand. "Never mind. Look, we can get rid of all this easily. Scourgify!"

The Stinksap vanished. Edward was quite fascinated. He knew the Stinksap did not disappear, that would be against the Conservation of Mass, but where it went to, he did not want to find out. During his two years in the magical community, spells often confounded him with their blatant negligence of Equivalent Exchange. But further research showed one cannot always judge a book by its cover, or in this case, a spell by its cosmetic effect. What seemed like conjuration out of thin air was actually the reconstruction of an object from the decomposition of the same object elsewhere in a known or unknown location – proven by the fact that one cannot conjure something that does not exist. Spells, he discovered, were a compression of several alchemic pathways, each with its own array, into one movement of the wand. Edward, in all his genius, could only manage a few simple spells. He could do much more with the use of his wand, but then he would not have access to the combinations of arrays that produced the spell, not to mention it would go against everything he believed in as a scientist.

The train ride became pretty uneventful afterwards and Edward felt the irresistible pull of sleep. He did not notice the arrival of two more people: the lanky redhead he first thought was Charlie, and the bushy-haired girl he saw on the platform.

He was woken by the sound a scream of mirth, followed by metal clanks, flapping wings and a cat hissing. The laughing was from Luna, and whatever joke she heard was funny enough to send her gasping for breath.

"Have I missed something?" Edward wondered.

"No," Harry said quickly. "This is Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, they've just been made Prefects," indicating the new additions. "That's Edward Elric," he said as the bushy-haired girl offered a hand with polite smile. "He's in Slytherin."

Hermione's faltered for a split second while Ron's jaw nearly dropped to the floor.

"Nice to meet you," Hermione said, regaining her composure. Edward was beginning to get the feeling the title "Slytherin" had the same effect as "State Alchemist" did in Amestris.

"Likewise, but –"

"He knows Charlie," Harry interrupted, sharing a look with Hermione.

"Err... Yeah, we met in Romania."

"Really? Charlie never talked about anyone named 'Elric' before," Ron said, having picked up his jaw.

"I've only met him a couple of months ago."

"What were you doing in Romania?" Harry asked.

"Research."

"On what?" Hermione asked.

"Dragons, among others." His tone had a note of finality. The exact nature of his research was for Edward, and Edward alone, to know. There was a lull in the conversation and Harry took this opportunity to read Luna's magazine.

"Where are you from?" Hermione asked. The question caught Edward by surprise. "I mean, your accent. You don't sound like you're from around here," Hermione pressed.

"I travel a lot," he said, hiding his eyes behind his bangs.

He did have an accent. While he found the language spoken in London was almost the same as Amestris, there were some glaring pronunciation and semantic differences. This caused no small amount of confusion when he first came, but it also became his scapegoat when he revealed himself as hopelessly uninformed in current events. Added to that, a year in Germany probably permanently marked his pronunciation of 'v's and 'w's.

Edward was saved from further questioning when Harry closed the magazine, and all attention turn on him.

"Anything good in there?" Ron asked.

"Of course not," said Hermione scathingly. "The Quibbler's rubbish, everyone knows that."

"Excuse me," said Luna, her voice had suddenly lost its dreamy quality. "My Father's the editor."

"I - oh," said Hermione.

Luna snatched the magazine back and disappeared behind its pages (upside down) just as the compartment door opened once more.

Edward recognized the tall blond with the pointed face, but he did not recognize the two larger boys flanking his sides. The size match-up was like the teenage version of Izumi and Sig, if only Izumi was blond and Sig had a brother.

"What?" Harry said aggressively, before any of them could open their mouths. Edward wondered if he was this aggressive to everybody.

"Manners, Potter, or I'll have to give you a detention," said the boy, whose voice seemed to drawl on. "You see, I, unlike you, have been made a prefect, which means that I, unlike you, have the power to hand out punishments."

He was distinctly reminded of Lt. Yoki from the mining town of Youswell.

"Yeah, Malfoy," said Harry. "But you, unlike me, are a git, so get out and leave us alone."

Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Neville laughed. Edward found himself laughing too.

"Picking up a fan club, Potter?" he sneered. "Who's the pipsqueak joining your pack?"

With a flurry of red, Edward landed a punch on Malfoy's face. "WHO ARE YOU CALLING A RUNT SO TINY HE COULD ONLY BE SEEN WITH A MAGNIFYING GLASS, YOU JERK!"

Harry, Ron, Hermione were frozen in shock, so were Crabbe and Goyle. Several heads were poking out of the other compartments, trying to catch what's going on.

"ARGG! You'll pay for this!" said Malfoy, pulling out his wand. "Attacking a prefect!"

Harry, Ron and Hermione immediately stood up and were pulling out their wands. But before Malfoy could cast a spell, he was sideswiped in the head and he was sent flying to the floor. His wand rolled down the corridor. The two larger boys lunged at Edward. In two swift movements, they too were on the floor.

"Nobody calls me a pipsqueak and gets away with it!" Dark shadows obscured the top half of Edwards face, leaving only his angry eyes visible. Stepping over the prone forms of the two larger boys, Edward raised his fist as if in preparation for another fight. "So now, you were saying something?"

Malfoy gulped in fear. His eyes darted back and forth between his wand and the figure standing above him. He picked himself off floor and carefully walked around Edward. "Crabbe, Goyle, we're leaving." said Malfoy patting the dust off his pants, Malfoy regained his sneer. "Watch yourself, Potter, because I'll be dogging your every step."

"Go away!" screeched Hermione. A cheer erupted some compartments down. She turned to look at Harry, sharing another look.

"Way to go!" said one of the redheaded twins, making their way to their compartment.

"That was a mean left hook," the other twin added.

"Figured Malfoy needed a nose job," the first one laughed, extending a hand to Edward. "I'm Fred Weasley."

"George Weasley," said the other.

"Edward Elric." He shook their hands.

"Where did you learn to throw a punch like that?" Fred asked.

"You shouldn't encourage him," Hermione interrupted, turning to Edward. "He's your prefect, attacking him like that... he could make life very difficult for you."

Edward was about to cut her off but Ron beat him to it. "Come on Hermione, that was bloody awesome! Malfoy looked like he was about to piss in his pants!"

Almost a once, all the hostility towards him dissipated. The atmosphere was like when he saved Youswell. It made him feel a better, because no matter where he was, he was still Edward Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist.

Harry didn't join the cheering and soon Fred and George went back to their own compartment. The train continued on its way north and Edward fell asleep once again. A sharp jab to the side woke him.

"We're almost at Hogwarts."

Edward groaned, staring out to the rain, and tried his best to ignoring the pain flaring up in his shoulder and leg.

"I think we should change now," said Harry, after Edward gave him no response.

Hermione and Ron pinned their badges on their robes and the train began to slow down. Edward yawned before getting up and getting his trunk.

"You know, you really should change into your uniform before we off the train," said Luna, carrying an owl.

"I don't have one." Edward answered simply. Before anyone could ask any more question, they began shuffling out of the train.

The night was cold, which was not a good thing for his auto-mail. His knee joint locked and he nearly stumbled on the first step down. He followed the students down a dark rain-washed road outside the station. He saw Harry with his friends, staring at the carriages. Edward made his way to join him.

"What are those things, d'you reckon?" Harry asked Ron, nodding to the black-winged creatures pulling the carriage.

"What things?"

They were joined by Luna, with owl still in hand. "Here you are," she said. "He's a sweet little owl, isn't he?"

"Er... yeah... He's all right," said Ron gruffly, taking the owl. "Well, come on then, let's get in... what were you saying, Harry?"

"I was saying, what are those horse things?"

"What horse things?"

"The horse things pulling the carriages!" said Harry impatiently, standing not further than three feet away to the strange, skeletal creatures standing quietly in the chill night air, their blank white eyes gleaming.

Edward had seen them once before, in the forest of Albania, and he had been warned to stay away. In fact, he was the only one out of his three companions at the time to see these winged creatures.

"Some people can't see them," Edward said, as Harry turned to look at him, still wearing in his red coat. "And some people can."

"See what?"

"The things pulling the carriages," he replied.

"You can see them too," Luna's dreamy voice drifted from behind him.

"Yes," Edward sighed, approaching in which Hermione and Ginny were already sitting. "Shall we get in then?"

"Yeah," said Harry. "Yeah, go on..."

"You're not in uniform," Hermione pointed out as soon as Edward sat down.

"I know."

"You're going to have points taken off when the professors see you."

"Who cares, Snape'll give you the points right back in the next potions class," said Ron.

"That's not the point, Ron," Hermione reprimanded.

Harry did not want to have to listen to another one of Ron and Hermione's arguments and there was much he wanted to ask about the horses.

"So what are they?"

"Thestrals," Edward muttered, more to himself than Harry. His eyes did not depart from the winged horses. "I didn't know they had them here."

"Thestrals?" Hermione asked, eyes slightly narrowing.

"Yeah, outside pulling these carriages." Everyone turned to Edward, most showing clear surprise.

"There's nothing pulling these carriages," said Ginny. "The carriages pull themselves."

Edward scoffed. "Just because you can't see them, doesn't mean they're not there."

"Are there really thestrals pulling these carriages?" Hermione asked.

"Yes, that's what I said. Isn't it?" said Edward, sounding very annoyed.

"What are these 'thestrals'?" Harry asked, feeling out of the loop. "And why can't anybody see them?"

"That's because the only people who can see thestrals," Hermione said shakily, looking uncertainly at Edward. "are people who have seen death."

"Death? As in dead people?"

"No, Ron," said Hermione, exasperated. "Death as in seeing someone die."

The cabin was enveloped by an uncomfortable silence. Harry couldn't help but wonder whose death Edward saw. The carriages jingled to a halt near the stone steps leading up to the oak front doors and Harry got out of the carriage first. He turned his eyes upon the thestrals. Its black nostrils forming vapors in the chilly night and it was watching him with empty white eyes.

"Are you coming or what?" said Ron beside him.

"Oh . . . yeah," said Harry quickly, and they joined the crowd hurrying up the stone steps into the castle.

Author's Note: Well... this has been sitting in my computer for over a year. After many system re-installs, I was afraid I'd loose this. I've already lost a later draft of the story (buried in some back-up that I probably forgot to file and then decided to wipe the hard drive thinking it's got nothing important). So I thought: 'what the heck, might as well just put it out there.'

I'm NOT a prolific writer... so expect infrequent updates.