There are a lot of thought-provoking elements within the few short pages of this story. The outstanding impression of Susan is depression. Yes, Theodore has always been a dicey friend, playing her like a fish on a line, but she has allowed herself to be played. She knows, intellectually, that "he never had a solid foundation", but she keeps hoping that he will be something else, and failing to take care of herself.

The war has taken a big toll on her, and she has responded by isolating herself from people who could help her find her way back. A job in which she interacts mostly with strangers. A specific decision not to join the merrymakers at the Leaky Cauldron on Christmas. She complains of being alone on the holiday, but it is her choice, not her parents' fault. She focuses on what she has lost: her Aunt Amelia, "most of her immediate family" (though both her parents have survived). She faults her parents for leaving her to go on vacation (how dare they?). And she uses alcohol and loveless sex to try to fill the void in her psyche.

Not everyone who lived through the war is so far behind on the road to recovery as Susan is. I don't really see any insight on her part in this story. She has yet to take responsibility for her own happiness. It's a depressing story, and I wonder if it was depressing to write. But despite that, it's well-written, and the details all contribute to a tightly-constructed whole.

This story certainly deserves more reviews than it has received so far. It is very well-written, with no awkwardness in the phrasing or the flow, no questionable choice of words, or poor timing of the pace.

It shows us a a young Bellatrix, amoral and conscienceless but not yet criminal, focused but not yet obsessed, a bully but not yet a psychopath. I am left wondering whether Bella at this point in her life could still have been salvaged and rehabilitated, given an opportunity for that, which of course never occurred.

The glimpses of the characters of Dumbledore and Slughorn are right on -- Dumbledore who was unable to be manipulated and Slughorn who was unable to avoid being manipulated. The statement "Everybody knew the Slytherins were prejudiced, but nobody knew it went that far" exemplifies Slughorn's unfitness as Slytherin Head of House. He didn't know what was going on and could not have controlled it even if he did. His refusal to change Bella's dormitory assignment was not based on moral principles but on a fear of losing his job, a weak response.

Bella's keen interest in Rodolphus Lestrange is a bit harder to understand. Her relationship with him is the same as her relationship with other people -- manipulative and self-serving. But what does she need him for? What value does he have for her besides being handsome, smart, and pureblooded? Chapter 3 is all about her seduction of him, but to what end? Given her nature as depicted, she obviously has something up her sleeve, and love is most certainly not it. Perhaps she has some goals in life (other than eventually becoming Voldemort's most worshipful follower), something more than being the wife of a pureblood and the mother of his children. It will be interesting to find out what her plans are.

This little story has a refreshingly imaginative thesis. What I like: the "marriage bonds" which turn out to be a sort of telepathic notification of romantic/emotional feelings in one's spouse; the long time span; Hermione's constant eluding of her erstwhile husband (at first we don't know who or why); the notion that a Voldemort victory ultimately didn't make much difference to the Muggle world.

Even though we have an AU where Voldemort wins and Hermione is Imperiused to marry Draco, her character remains the character we knew in the 7 books, and when she is released from magical mind control, she is old Hermione, opposed to Voldemort and the Death Eaters, and she flees. There is no need to cudgel our brains trying to figure out why Hermione is behaving so sympathetically toward the Dark Side; she never does.

We get the feeling, even before Hermione realizes that Draco is about to die, that she has achieved a peace and tranquility in her life. The whole piece has a gentleness to it. And when she does see him for one last time, on his deathbed, there is no expressed anger, but no forgiveness either. For Hermione his death means neither triumph nor tragedy, just a final freedom.

This piece is very well-written, and the style is pleasingly different. So much is packed into just a few pages.

When I read this story, I said to myself, "I am missing something." It was like reading a random chapter out of the middle of a book, not understanding who the characters are or what has been going on. The first part of the story was tough enough, trying to figure out the fourth paragraph with its obscure references to other unnamed people and past events. But the second part of the story was a shocker. I went back to check the dates; how do these parts relate? I wondered if the italics meant it was a dream or a prologue; apparently not. But why is Michael digging a grave, for heaven's sake? Is the corpse someone he killed, or merely a body he is hiding? The mention of bad images permanently in his brain suggests that he at least witnessed, probably committed the murder.

I went online to check out this author's other stories, Is there a prologue there somewhere? Not that I could see. But as I scrolled down the list of titles, I noticed the title of this piece more closely: "To Kill For Her". What? Did Michael murder Anthony in an attempt to get Lisa back again? Say it isn't so!

This story is definitely not ordinary. In a few short pages it manages to be startling, even disturbing, beginning as an unremarkable though nicely-written love story and ending as what can only be called an act of madness. It reminded me of John Hinckley's assassination attack on President Reagan in an attempt to impress the actress Jodi Foster (he is still in a mental hospital).

Michael refers to himself as weak. he has lost what is most valuable to him because of his self-perceived weakness. Now he is going to be "strong", for once! Now the tragedy is complete.

An interesting little story, a continuation of the conversation that took place by Bill's bedside in the Hospital Wing after the battle in the tower. After Harry leaves the Hospital Wing we do not know how that conversation played out, but the author assumes that Lupin went into the Great Hall to see Dumbledore's body, then returned to the vicinity of the Hospital Wing but did not re-enter. The author gives a good exposition of Lupin's sense of being alone as, one by one, everyone who was close to him dies and he is reluctant to get close to anyone again. But he does not entertain the notion of a romantic attachment with Tonks until Molly comes out into the hall to pursue the discussion that was cut off earlier by Hagrid's arrival.

Lupin reiterates his negative opinion of himself -- he is a monster, he is a risk -- which has dominated his self-image all his life (encouraged no doubt by societal attitudes and restrictive laws), but Molly encourages him to break out of this self-imposed strait jacket, and eventually he decides to follow Lily's advice "...you don't have to let it define you." This is a realization that all disabled or damaged people will hopefully come to, sooner or later, that they can learn to manage their disability and go on to live a rewarding life that is normal in many respects.

In this story, Remus concludes that what holds him back is, first of all, fear, an emotion which comes not from Fenris Greyback or from society, but from within himself, and which he can conquer.

The story is nicely written. It's just a little slice of time, a little bit of dialogue, but a turning point for Lupin and Tonks. My only suggestion is a word choice in the final line. The word "feelings" sounds too tentative for a 37-year-old man like Lupin. It sounds like a word a teenager would use, in speaking about his first crush. Given that these were grim times, in which Lupin and Tonks would marry, have a baby, and die within the span of a year, I would have said "love".

Author's Response: Thank you for your extensive review. I always appreciate seeing my work through someone else's eyes as it gives me a sense of perspective, and I understand the critique of the story's ending. Thanks for reading! ~ Megan

I read your story through a few times to completely understand all that you were saying. This is a great story, and it deserves more reviews. It does a good job of describing a girl who wasn't malicious, but just doing what she had to do to survive. The series of vignettes establishes her careful attempts to balance her mother's advice, her place in the social milieu of Slytherin House, and her own repressed need for love.

It is posited in this story that after Draco betrays Pansy (in her mind) by marrying someone else, she decides that she wants to take revenge on him. It is a little hard for me to understand why she has this reaction. True, she hoped that after the war he would come back to her by default (having no other friends), but when he does not, why does she react so strongly? Because without him she has no future (paying job, dingy flat, nights in clubs drinking, nothing like the status she was born into, no respectable man with money to feed and clothe her)? Or because she wanted him so badly that she began to believe that it was guaranteed she would have him? My father used to remind me and my siblings that "Wantin' ain't gittin'", and I quote that wisdom often.

It is amusing to read Pansy's wild fantasies about how she might take revenge, including something as ridiculous as abducting Draco's baby. But she shows her cunning nature, which has gone far beyond mere survival now, in the elaborate plan to have Draco make a fool of himself with a prostitute in front of his wife. When at the last minute Pansy doesn't go through with her plan, what is she thinking? Sympathy for Astoria? For the baby, which whom she suddenly identifies?

There is a subtlety to this story that invites re-reading and pondering. A lot is suggested in a few sentences here and there. Well-written.

I am blown away by the sheer mass and richness of detail in this story. You must have sat up late at night thinking of more things to say about Alastor Moody. In writing like this, you run the risk of becoming repetitious or too wordy, and I read critically with an eye to phrases I would blue-pencil if I were your editor, but in truth I found very few.

The title of your story is good in that it promises the reader that, after the long build-up describing Moody's character as an Auror and his circumstances as a recently-retired pensioner, there is going to be some action eventually. Lacking that promise, a reader might give up about one-third of the way through the story (right before Moody gets out of bed for the first time).

It is hard to imagine that Barty Crouch Jr., masquerading as the false Alastor Moody, could be as detail-obsessed as the real Moody was; probably few people except Moody's four allowed visitors really had an inkling as to the extent of his detail obsession (looking for codes in the newspaper articles?), and of them only Dumbledore was at Hogwarts. How did Barty Crouch Jr. manage to impersonate such a complex character as Moody so successfully, given that he, Barty, had not seen Alastor Moody for years? How did he manage to fool Dumbledore?

The fight scene is vivid and well-described. The fight goes on for quite a while, the advantage switches back and forth from side to side, and Moody's courage is impressive. But, because he was a skilled Auror, I wonder why so few of his shots hit their mark. And Pettigrew and Crouch seem pretty skilled in fighting for men who have spent their recent years as a rat and a shut-in respectively.

I also wonder how they managed to overcome Moody's protections and blast a hole in the side of his house. We are not told of the protections that Moody had on his walls, other than the windows and door, though he believes "the house was impregnable." But nothing is perfect, even Moody's protections, and how they got in is one of those things that we will probably never know.

This story is an amazing elaboration of the personality of Alastor Moody. After reading it, one is tempted to go back through Books 4-7 and re-read the sections which include Moody to see how his depiction there reflects the descriptions in this story.

One nit: in several places the story uses the word "passed" where I think the word needed was "past". But that's a little thing. The story is awesome.

Author's Response: Hi there, so sorry for the delay in responding to your lovely review, I only just noticed it! I am so glad you liked this, I had a lot of fun writing it, and you are half right, I did spend a lot of time just sitting still in an empty room, thinking, observing, and plotting, trying to get into the head of Mad-Eye Moody, and I had a lot of fun with that, so I am glad you enjoyed. I know what you mean about being repetitious and too wordy, and I was conscious of that. It is a very wordy piece, and not a lot happens for a while, which I thought would be problematic. I was focusing more on Moody's character at the start of the piece, and less on action. I am just glad it worked, because people do seem to like the story! In terms of how Crouch managed to impersonate Moody so flawlessly, well I was basing that on that fact that Crouch kept him alive and under the imperious curse, so he could question him and learn his habits and quirks so he could fool even Dumbledore (he does say that in GOF, that he kept Moody alive to question him and learn his character and personality) I am glad you liked the fight scene. In terms of Moody being a skilled Auror and not a lot of his shots hit their mark ... well, he is older now and battle worn and scarred. He has lost his leg. I was trying to capture a hero in decline. He is not as fast, or fit or as skillful as he used to be. I wanted to capture him like that, because I think it is really sad, that his once brilliant and great Auror has to face up with the fact that he can't be brilliant forever, that everything has its time and must end, and his story is a sad one - where he was forced to retire when he himself was not ready to let go... Sorry about the issue with passed and past - I will go and fix that now - thanks for pointing it out! Anyway, thank you so much for your fantastic review, it really made my day. I am just so happy you liked this little story! Thank you so much, your review is awesome.

Together with his story "The Howling Hall", the author has given us a peek into the part of the history of St. Mungo's Hospital and the evolution of the treatment of lycanthropy. Stories such as these give us the understanding that the magical culture is not conceived as being static or immutable; developments and advances occur, as in the non-magical world. The state of the art in past generations was not what it is today.

The protagonist, Damocles Belby, is not a completely lovable hero. In Chapter 2 the young Damocles shows traces of the prickliness that marks the older Damocles in Chapter 1. This prickliness is also hinted at in the references to his failed romance with Poppy (why did she refuse him?) and his assignment to the unpopular dead-end job in Stokeley Ward (how had he offended the administrators?) Both these points could be explored in further stories; maybe the author intends to do so.

The writing is graceful and fluid. The story is easy to read, easy to follow, with interesting details that enrich the scene.

The timeline seems a little uncertain. In Chapter 2, "1959", Damocles states that he is 26 years old and has been working on the lycanthropy assignment for five years (supposedly since age 21). In Chapter 1, his age is given as 57 and he states that he has been working on it for 30 years. Since age 27? Or maybe he really meant "30-some-odd years", more precisely 36. At any rate, he seems to have developed the Wolfsbane Potion in about 1989-1990, a few years before Remus Lupin's tenure as a Hogwarts professor in 1993.

This story is a good evocation of the climate of danger and fear that existed during the final year before the downfall of Voldemort. The conversations among the students on the train are stilted. Assuming the train is bugged, they speak in code which carries double meanings. "She had copies." The first year students are described as terrified and so scared. (It would have been nice to give a bit of description of what the first-years were doing that made them appear scared.)

The author includes brief mentions of Luna's imaginary creatures. She thinks about Blibbering Humdingers and Invisible Meese, and mentions Crumple-Horned Snorkacks and Wrackspurts in passing, during the don't-mention-anything-important conversation in the compartment. These mentions serve to show us that this is still Luna, but changes in her communication style ("Luna was getting a bit better at subterfuge") show that as she matured, she became more aware of how her speech sounded to other people.

Luna understands instantly why she is being taken from the train and why she is not in immediate danger of death. Despite her outwardly dreamy demeanor, she has a grasp of the politics of the situation. "She tried to keep her tone casual" indicates that she instantly recognized how serious this development was.

When she says, "Yes, it's very nice of them" to Bellatrix, she is continuing to maintain her facade of non-threatening naivete, although we see later in the book that she is the person who survives about three months in the Malfoy dungeon and is able to cut bonds with a hidden nail.

This story is well-written, with only the one suggestion mentioned already. It avoids stereotyping Luna as out-of-touch and reveals her innate intelligence and toughness. A good job.

This story is just a snapshot, a moment in time. Nothing much occurs in the way of action. It simply illustrates how circumstances have changed.

I am reminded of the Shakespearean-age world view: society is like a giant wheel, with some people on the top and others on the bottom. At seemingly random times for random reasons the wheel turns. Those on top become on the bottom, and vice versa. The rise and fall are not connected to virtue or vice; they just happen.

This image of the wheel of fate comes strongly to mind while I read this piece. The first two paragraphs clearly lay out Draco's former status as the one on the top: rank, power, privilege, wealth, entitlement, superiority, an assured future. Then the whole wheel makes a 180-degree turn and he is on the bottom: disgraced, despised, lacking in opportunities, a very clouded and ill-defined future. How much of this outcome is due to his own sins and those of his compatriots, and how much is simply due to being one of the losers instead of one of the winners? After all, history is written by the winners, and the losers never fare well in that tale.

The Draco we see in this piece is notably more introspective than the Draco we met in the seven books. Not only is his personal world turned topsy-turvy, but his bedrock beliefs have been cast into serious doubt or even refuted. Voldemort was not a savior, despite what Draco's father said. The means can become so dreadful that they are no longer even remotely justified by the ends. One is forced to accept assistance from one's erstwhile enemies, so that the question of who is friend and who is enemy becomes confused, and the line between the good guys and the bad guys is all blurred. The only thing he knows for sure now is that the path before him is unknowable.

Pansy is portrayed more sympathetically than she often is in other stories. Draco considers her pretty, a fit consort for the Slytherin King, not merely a handy lay. She is described as tough and strong, a natural leader, but not coarse or crude. And because her involvement in the war and the events leading up to it was so much more peripheral than his, she does not comprehend the monumental changes in values so keenly as he does. For her the changes are merely inconvenient -- her father lost his job but her mother is still working. So Draco has moved far beyond Pansy, and how could she ever catch up? There is not another war to teach her the things she failed to learn in this one.

A neat detail: Draco picks some meadow flowers and asks if they are pansies. How could he not know whether or not they are pansies.? Perhaps it is because in his former life he never had to pay heed to the beautifully landscaped gardens around Malfoy Manor. Hired gardeners did all the planting and tending; they had to be the ones to know the names of what they had planted. One more symbol of what he has lost.

The author has achieved something I don't very often see in these archives: a non-action piece that avoids being merely an extended rehash of someone's emotions. The carefully chosen details of Draco's and Pansy's recent history, with (and this is a biggie) no unnecessary words, spell out perfectly the points that the author wants to make. A very enjoyable read.