Can you guess what happened to my hair since I last wrote here? No? Well, here we go. You know that I bleached it fairly white, using a mixture of straight bleach, hydrogen peroxide, and lemon juice. It seemed to work pretty well, but lately it had been growing out, and because of the contrast between my bleached hair and my unbleached hair, I ended up with what looked like a black streak down the middle of my head. So I decided to bleach my hair again, and see if I could get: 1. my already bleached hair to be absolutely white, and 2. the hair that had grown out to blend in a little better. To this end, I gathered together a few of the things I'd used last time (clorox bleach, large plastic bowl, dishwashing gloves, large rag-towel), and went outside to work on the first step. You have to be outside, otherwise the smell of the bleach will knock you out. (It very nearly did anyway.)
 
So I put the towel around my shoulders to protect my clothes (which I had made sure weren't ones I was particularly fond of in any case), put on the gloves, discovered that they were both for the left hand, muttered a bit but decided it wasn't worth the trouble to look for a right hand glove, poured a fair amount of straight bleach into the bowl, took a deep breath, and stuck my head in it. (A note: straight bleach kinda burns. You get this interesting feeling, sort of like your scalp is dissolving.) I swished my hair around a bit with my gloved hands, making sure it was all wet, then gingerly pulled my head out of the bowl and wrapped the towel around my hair. The bleach in the bowl had gone all foamy. It was very odd-looking, but I had seen it the last time I bleached my hair, so I wasn't worried. Holding the towel securely to my head with one hand, I picked up the bowl, carried it over to a russian olive, and poured it on the roots. (Theoretically this should kill it, but I'm not sure even straight bleach has a chance against that overgrown weed.)
 
Then I went back and did it again. I left the bowl upside down on the rocks by the garage door to drain completely (you can't put bleach in your drains--it does bad things), and went inside, carrying the bleach and wearing the gloves. I waited in the garage for a bit, making sure my hair was well wrapped up and wouldn't drip, and taking off the gloves (a feat I managed with difficulty) before I went into the house. I put the bleach away, and then sort of wandered around for a while, waiting for my hair to dry. When it did, I went into my bathroom with a couple mostly empty bottles of hydrogen peroxide, gingerly unwrapped the towel (holding my head over the tub), and poured as much peroxide on my head as I could. I used the gloves to make sure I was getting everything, scrubbing around blindly.
 
With the towel off my head, I thought, it seemed extraordinarily light. I hadn't noticed the weight of my head when I put the towel on the first couple of times, but now that I thought about it, hadn't my head seemed lighter than usual when I had taken it out of the bowl of bleach for the first time? I was unsure. My head had been swimming from the bleach fumes, and I hadn't been thinking or noticing things properly.
 
I finished with the second step, and rewrapped my head. It seemed to take forever for it to dry. I went and got the lemon juice out of the refrigerator while I waited. Finally I gave up. Somewhat damp, I decided, was just as good as completely dry. I went back into my bathroom and repeated the process, this time using lemon juice, rewrapped my head, put the lemon juice back, and started waiting for my hair to dry. I wandered about the house, one hand steadying the large pink towel on my head, and thought uneasily about the comparative weight of wet hair to dry.
 
Eventually it dried enough for me to remove the towel, and I went directly to the mirror. My hair was a dark, tangled mess. I wondered whether the bleaching had worked. It's true that my hair is always ridiculously dark when it's wet, or even damp, but surely it should be lighter than this, I thought. I was somewhat disturbed by this, and went to borrow Mom's hairdryer. I couldn't find it. It turned out to be in a drawer under one of the sinks in BookFreak and AnonymousGirl's bathroom. I turned it on as high as it could go, and set to work. The truth emerged fairly quickly. Under the blast of warm air, my hair dried into a fuzzy, inch-thick carpet on the top of my head. I ran my hands over it incredulously. It felt nice. I felt hysterical laughter bubbling up in my throat. The bleach had dissolved my light-colored hair almost completely. It was still there--on the sides of my head, in the back--but not on the top. I looked a bit like one of those top-bald hippies who refuse to admit that their hair isn't growing in the middle anymore. The sound of the hairdryer covered my mad giggles as I finished drying the longer hair around the sides of my head.
 
I think Mom considered disowning me when I showed her what I'd done. I asked her if she would try cutting it so the rest of it matched the top, but she wouldn't. I borrowed the razor she uses to trim the boys' hair, put on the one-inch attachment, and attempted it myself. I don't think it turned out too badly. It wasn't what I was trying for, mind you, but even Mom admits that it doesn't look too grotesque. My cousin Michael says I look sort of like Angelina Jolie in 'Hackers'. (Sadly, he's right.) On the upside, I think I'm done with bleach now. I've had enough fun.

 

Due to circumstances somewhat beyond my control, I have been trapped in an immutable time-space field for almost four months. A time field I could have handled, and have (will?). A space field is a little harder, but I have managed those as well. Both of them together, however, are difficult enough to warrant near death.

I was lucky that the stasis that prevented me from moving also slowed my aging process. My mind, however, is considerably older than it was the last time I wrote. Due to an interesting twist in the 'space' half of the field, I found myself able to hear mundane conversation in some unsuspecting Japanese household. Thanks to utter and complete boredom, I found myself attempting to decipher what I heard. Therefore, I now speak a little Japanese.

You may be wondering how I managed to escape. Well, it was more luck than anything else. Change is not encouraged inside a time-space field. If anything does manage to change, it will be promptly expelled. Naturally, change in itself is simple. The problem is timing the change. In order to understand what I mean, you must first understand a little about time and space fields.

A time field, while holding its victim in stasis, does not remain stationary within a specific time. Rather, it revolves through an infinite number of times. To escape from a time field, you must engineer some sort of mental or physical growth. However, if you ever wish to return to your own time, you must be sure to only break the field while you are in a time that is at least close to the one you want.

A space field holds its victim in stasis as well, but it is a different sort of stasis. The stasis of a time field allows movement (to a certain degree) but not mental or physical growth. I find it easier to break because of this. A space field, on the other hand, prevents movement of any kind. If you can so much as twitch a finger, you will be released. Physical strength has never been my area of greatest talent, so I find this type of field rather more difficult to break.

A space field rotates in space in the same way that a time field rotates in time. Therefore, a person trapped inside a space field may find themselves in any one of numerous galaxies, as well as on different worlds and continents. This makes it hard to get back to your own universe, much less your own neighborhood. On many occasions, I have been forced to exit the field at the nearest convenient point and simply hitchhike home. This is more difficult than it may seem.

A time-space field rotates through space and time simultaneously, preventing easy access to your own time and place. I was lucky enough to hit both time and space within a margin that was easy to correct for once I was free. So… I’m back!

I hope you’ll forgive me for my extended absence. I hope to be allowed some time to recover from my admittedly exhausting ordeal before something else like this happens, but you never do know. Until next time, then!

~Dragontongue

Once in a land of magic there dwelt an old sorcerer who desired a dragon to keep him

company. But dragons were expensive in those days so the old sorcerer (by the name of

Wynn) decided to go on a quest to capture a dragon and bring it to his home in the

mountains.

 

He packed his belongings and a case of Pepsi and set off, humming the hit song 'I Was Made

To Loaf'. He hadn't gone far, when he came to a deep, deep, trench, streching as far as he

could see to the left and right.

 

So Wynn opened his limited edition copy of “Simple Spells for the Stupefied Sorcerer” to

page 142 and read the directions that were written there. He heeded them and after gulping

down three cans of Pepsi (sugar was the one thing that calmed his nerves), belching twice and

chanting a few magic words, Wynn felt himself flying over the trench -- well, halfway over.

After he fell he sat there for a minute, dazed and trying to figure out how he was going to get

out. Wynn stood up and decided he should walk around the trench to look for a way out, so

he began to walk and hum "Meant To Eat". So on he walked till he felt something tug at his

pant leg; looking down he saw a huge dwarf. He was so surprised he screamed.   The dwarf,

apparently startled by hearing Wynn scream, looked very shocked, then horrifed as he gazed

behind Wynn and slowly crumpled to the ground in a dead faint.

 

Wynn whirled around and saw, to his amazement, an large green dragon who looked very,

very, bored. She sighed, warming Wynn considerably with the heat of her breath.

"I hope," she said, "that you didn't let him touch your hand, or your face, or your neck, or any

other part of your body that is currently unclothed?"

 

Rules: Every time you are tagged you must type the story on your post and add 2 lines and

tag 7 others. If you choose to end a story it must be more than 20 lines and you must start

another one with 2 lines and tag 7 people. Story must not exceed 50 lines. Post rules on blog

and/or comment of those you tag.

Thanks, AuthorElf!

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I found the 'ancestor' statement in the second Harry Potter book. Ah, sorry, I have to go. Bye!

~Dragontongue

Angelfire94 asked me another question. (Honestly, I'm so lazy that other people post more stuff on my blog than I do.)

What are your theories on The Deathly Hallows?

Tal Isin doesn't actually have a clue what's going to happen in the last book -- no theories, no nada. He just hopes that Voldything gets blown up, or shredded, or eaten by a giant spider, or... something....

I, however, do have a few guesses. If you remember, in one of the previous books (forgot exactly which one... need to look for that), Dumbledore says that Voldemort is the last remaining ancestor of Slytherin, rather than descendant.

At first I thought it was a typo, but apparently it's not. This leads me to believe that rather than Harry killing Voldemort, he will simply send him a fair way back in time.

Also, the prophecy says that "neither can live while the other survives", which would fit my theory -- Harry can't live unless he sends Voldemort far enough into the past that he dies before Harry is born (or vice-versa).

It does seem like JKR to do this, because if Voldemort ends up being one of Slytherin's ancestors, there would be no such thing as a pure-blood, since Voldemort is half Muggle.

Of course, you have my permission to laugh if  I'm completely off. (Hey -- I heard that! Off on my theory, not off my rocker!) :-)

Thank you, Angelfire94, for making me post something. I needed that.

~Dragontongue

PotterForPresident asked Tal Isin two more questions, both of which were extremely welcome!

1. How long did you train with the "Roadrunners"?

I've been training with the Roadrunners for about ten years, since I was just a 16-year-old kid. We played with a bunch of other wizarding families from the oil fields -- all ages. There were just enough wizards for two teams at first, but now we have three, the Oil Drips being the latest, and the the Quick Riggers the oldest.

2. Have you ever played the Seeker postion? If so, what's it like?

 If I may quote Ingolfr the Iambic (a Norwegian poet from the early 1400s),

'Oh, the thrill of the chase as I soar through the air

With the Snitch up ahead and the wind in my hair

As I draw ever closer, the crowd gives a shout

But then comes a Bludger and I am knocked out.'

I was never very good, you see. It is without doubt the hardest position I have ever had to play, especially since our one and only Snitch sometimes refuses to stay within the bounds of the field. I think the charm's faulty. Thank goodness we never have much of a crowd (almost all the wizards and witches are playing, you understand). Otherwise someone would probably have been hurt the time I -- well, never mind. I'm a much better Chaser anyway.

~Tal Isin, Rangely Roadrunners

PotterForPresident asks:

Do you think Viktor Krum should retire? If so, why?

Well I don't really know, pretty lady. I've never met him. He seems to be lightning on a broom though, so if he retires before I get to play him I'll be somewhat annoyed.

~Tal Isin, Rangely Roadrunners

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P.S. from Dragontongue.

Thanks, Hermione and SnowWolf! By the way, any new suggestions would be as welcome as new questions! I still haven't decided what to be next!

Striker asks:

Ok, what IS Quidditch and how do you play (I really don't know)??

Quidditch is a game played by wizards on broomsticks with four balls. The balls are:

The Quaffle. This ball is twelve inches in diameter, bright red, and perfectly smooth. The charms placed on it allow for easy gripping, and cause it to fall slowly when dropped.

The two Bludgers. These are ten inches in diameter and made of iron. The charms on them cause them to indiscriminately attack whatever players are closest to them.

The Golden Snitch. This ball is the size of a walnut with silvery wings. It is bewitched to avoid capture for as long as possible, and to stay within the boundaries of the field.

The game is played on a pitch that is oval-shaped,  five hundred feet long, and one hundred eighty feet wide. There is a circle about two feet in diameter in the center of the pitch for the release of the balls. There are three goal hoops on either side of the field.

Each team has seven players. Their titles and jobs are as follows:

1 Keeper: tries to keep the Chasers from putting the Quaffle through the goal hoops.

1 Seeker: tries to catch the Golden Snitch before the other team's Seeker. (Catching the Snitch gets your team 150 points.)

2 Beaters: each Beater is equipped with a magically reinforced bat, which they use to knock the Bludgers away from the members of their own and/or at the members of the opposing team.

3 Chasers: the Chasers throw the Quaffle to one another and try to put it through one of the opposing team's goal hoops. 10 points are scored every time a goal is made.

Basic rules:

1. A player can go as high as he or she likes, as long as they don't leave the boundary of the pitch. If a player strays across the boundary, his or her team has to give the Quaffle to the opposing team.

2. The team Captain can call for a time out by signaling to the referee. This is the only time a player's feet are allowed to touch the ground during a game. If the game has lasted more than twelve hours, a time out can be extended to two hours. If you don't get back on the pitch after two hours, though, your team is disqualified.

3. The referee can award penalties against a team. The Chaser taking the penalty flies from the central circle to the scoring area. All other players have to keep well back.

4. You can grab the Quaffle from another player, but you can't grab any part of their body.

5. If a player gets injured and can't play any more, the team can't bring on a substitute player -- they just have to keep going without that player.

6. You can take your wand onto the pitch, but you can't use it against opposing team members, opposing team members' brooms, the referee,  any of the balls, or anyone in the crowd.

7. A game of Quidditch only ends when the Snitch is caught, or if both team Captains agree to stop.

There are a lot of fouls, too, but listing them would take too long.

 

PotterforPresident asks:

1. How long have you been playing?

Oh, about seven years, give or take a few months.

2.What team do you play on?

The Rangely Roadrunners. We're pretty good in the States, though we haven't competed on an international scale yet. We will, though! Just give us time. *wink*

 

~Tal Isin, Rangely Roadrunners