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Do you know what mold problems can be caused by a leaky basement? If you do not know, we are here to inform you. Read below to learn about potential mold problems caused by leaky basements and how to resolve… Read More
Posts Tagged 'main cause of mold problems in your home'
How To Control Mold Problems Caused By A Leaky Basement
- January 24th, 2012
- Posted in Health Risks, Indoor Environments, mold contractor, mold growth prevention
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Tags: a toxic black mold, cause mold problems, contact Advance Mold Remediation, contain and complete remediation of the mold in your home, damaged area and remove mold, Facebook and Twitter, For professional help and questions on remediation, great danger to your health, home inspected to remove, How To Control Mold Problems Caused By A Leaky Basement, Indoor Air Quality (IAQ) Professional, main cause of mold problems in your home, Mold Assessment, Mold can grow in walls, Mold can reduce your property value and cause structural damage, Mold is a stachybotrys chartarum, mold not visible to the eye lurking, mold problems can be caused by a leaky basement, Mold Problems That Can Be Caused by A Leaky Basement, mold remediation, Mold Remediation services stop moisture at its source and remove toxic mold from the infected area, potential mold problems caused by leaky basements and how to resolve the mold problems, Professional Remediation services use specialized tools to diagnose where moisture, serious liability to you as a homeowner, test your home for quality control and safety, under flooring and behind your drywall, What is Mold?, you find excellent long-term solutions to mold problems


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Daniel Lee has not received any gifts yet
Hi Daniel ,
I live in evanston.. Woud you like to hit this weekend? Sorry couldnt reply to your previous post as i just got back here
4.0 player. I'd love to hit when the weather warms up!
Hi, I'm Mark, the founder of Tennisopolis, the world's largest and most active tennis network. Please share Tennisopolis with your friends by supporting our Facebook page. Click here for a Guide to Meet Tennis Partners.
Have a look at our introduction page which will help you navigate the massive network which now has over 44,000 members and 650 local tennis groups.
Also, I recommend that you upload a profile pic; it can be of anything, but people with pics meet more players.
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Mark, The Mayor of Tennisopolis
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If you've been following the rather protracted case of Apple Vs Psystar, you'll already know that they're suing each other over the smaller firm's sale of non-official computers running Mac OS X.
While any kind of legal action is both tedious and predictable (hint – the big guy usually wins), it's encouraging to note that the two parties have now agreed to try to find a solution out of court.
Cover story?
Psystar and Apple have signed up to arbitration in California that will both keep costs down and prevent the end result from becoming public knowledge.
There is some speculation that the Alternative Dispute Resolution process will actually be used as a cover for Apple to simply buy Psystar and put an end to what it sees as licence infringement that way.
That could be the case if Apple wants to prevent public scrutiny of its OS X licence agreement, although avoiding the antitrust allegations that Psystar has levelled is a more likely scenario.


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'Bourne', 'Avengers' Star Jeremy Renner Pops Viagra Before 10-Hour Flight
Jeremy Renner won't soon forget a recent painful 10-plus hour flight from Los Angeles to London. It wasn't the turbulence, the layovers or the bad service that made the flight unbearable – it was the uncomfortable, unnatural swelling going on … in his pants.
The 'Avengers' and 'Bourne Legacy' actor got a little personal with People recently (Too personal?), telling them he accidentally popped a Viagra a friend gave him before the flight. No, Renner wasn't looking to up his Mile High Club status, he thought the pill was Ambien and was hoping to spend the entire flight dozing.
Instead, he spent the flight squirming and icing his junk and probably hoping for a flight attendant who was willing to go above and beyond the usual call of service.
He didn't get a wink the entire tine, and he had to deal with the "camping" (his terms) going on below the belt. Luckily, the flight staff was prepared for such an event. They had plenty of ice to place on Hawkeye's pointy hawkeye to keep the swelling down.
"If I had to go to the restroom, it was so embarrassing," he said about the whole ordeal.
Yep, if we had to choose one word to describe this story, "embarrassing" would be it.


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The 58th Aircraft Maintenance Unit�s Support Section put into service a new toolbox specifically used for tire and brake changes in yet another example of the continuous improvements happening with the F-35 Lightning II program at the 33rd Fighter Wing.
The 58th Aircraft Maintenance Unit�s Support Section put into service a new toolbox specifically used for tire and brake changes in yet another example of the continuous improvements happening with the F-35 Lightning II program at the 33rd Fighter Wing.
According to Master Sgt. Michael Chavez, 58th AMU support section chief, a reduc-tion in accountability of items and equipment was one of the main goals of creating the box.
There are 287 total items to be accounted for in the three boxes required by the tech data,� he said. �With our new tire change kit, there are only 52 items. That�s an 81 percent reduction in tools and equipment.�
Previously, in order to perform a tire change, maintainers were required to check out three different tool kits because the box required by the program did not have the specific tools needed to do the job.
For the maintainers, having all the required tools in one box makes life easier. It allows them to spend about 50 percent less time checking out tools and lessens the chance of a lost tool potentially damaging an aircraft. Also, there is less difficulty transporting the tool cases to the flight line.
�It takes a lot less time now, compared to lugging out three boxes and a huge cart,� said Staff Sgt. Derek Wilkins, a 58th AMU crew chief. �Also, there�s a lot less risk of losing tools now with one box as opposed to three boxes.�
Staff Sgt. Joseph Vera, the 58th AMU support section�s composite tool kit program manager, obtained a list of basic requirements and put the box together. By reutilizing tools left over from the 58th AMU�s previous incarnation as an F-15 unit, he was able to create a portable, custom tool box while saving the government the cost of buying a completely new kit.
�The tire change box is complete,� Chavez said. �It is a 100 percent locally developed box using legacy tools, minus two large sockets at a cost of $53.�
To make the tool box serviceable, the old identification numbers were removed from the tools and new ones added. The tools also had to be shadowed in foam to create specific spots for each item. These two tasks were performed for accountability pur-poses. Vera and other support section Airmen created the box during a three-day period.
After a couple of trial runs and input from maintainers, the box was upgraded to its current configuration.
�The new box now has room to secure the majority of the extra tools required to perform the task, such as a grease gun and torque wrenches,� Vera said. �The biggest thing was getting it organized and cutting the foam.�
Col. Andrew Toth, the 33rd Fighter Wing commander, praised the outside-the-box thinking used to create the new tool kit.
�It shows the quality of maintainers we have in the 33rd Fighter Wing,� he said. �Everyone at every level is dedicated to improving our capabilities and making the F-35 program a success as it continues to move forward.�


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Apple fans can give a cheer this morning. Cupertino confirmed a long rumored event for October 23rd in which the company will announce new additions to the Apple family of products, according to Wired.
The question, as always, is exactly what the company will announce. Apple has perfected the art of mystery around its releases — which builds greater anticipation from loyal fans — and this event is no different. The leading rumor for is an iPad Mini. The current iPad is 9.5 by 7.81 inches, a bit too large to hold and type with one hand. Google's Nexus 7 and Samsung's Galaxy Note tablets both fit in a single hand and many have wondered if, and when, Apple would follow suit.
Larger screened smartphones like the Samsung Galaxy S3 have also started to eat into the tablet market. Apple's latest iPhone 5 increased its screen size from 3.5 inches to 4.0 inches (diagonally) over the iPhone 4 to keep pace.
For next week's event, "consistently reliable sources" tell Apple fan blog 9to5Mac that a 13-inch MacBook Pro with Retina Display and a new Mac Mini are on the way.
But again, these are still rumors. Apple has not confirmed what the event will be about.
Apple products typically take a couple weeks to hit stores after they're announced. Whatever the company unveils will have plenty of time to be on shoppers' minds for Black Friday and the holiday season.
[Cross-posted from SFGate's Tech Chronicles blog.]


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Overview of SCORM
What is SCORM?
Wikipedia: SCORM (Sharable Content Object Reference Model) is a collection of standards and specifications for web-based e-learning. It defines:
-- How to create Web-based learning content that can be delivered and tracked by different SCORM-compliant learning management systems
-- How content may be packaged into a transferable ZIP file.


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Phoebe Friendship Bracelet by Estella Bartlett. Tiny seed beads in gold, turquoise and black on cord Friendship Bracelet with a gold star charm. Gold plated and beautifully packaged with the words "Live as you dream".
- Beads: 2 mm
- Length: adjustable to 180 mm
- Gold Plated
- Collection: Charm
- Category: Bracelets
- Brand: Estella Bartlett
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We offer FREE UK mainland and Northern Ireland delivery as standard and it will appear as such on your basket & order confirmation which is e-mailed to you upon completion. MORE
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If your item is time sensitive or required by the next day we recommend that you select "Special Delivery" at checkout, this option is available after you have entered your postcode. MORE
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If you require your item to be delivered before 1.00 p.m on a Saturday, please select "Saturday Delivery" at checkout before midday on Friday, this option is available after you have entered your postcode. MORE
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Orders placed before 1.00 p.m. Monday to Thursday are processed and dispatched same day, by royal mail "internationally signed for", all packages will require a signature upon delivery. MORE
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Jewellery4.com hope you are delighted with your order. If however, for any reason, you're not completely satisfied with your purchase we offer a no-quibble money back guarantee. MORE
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At Jewellery4.com, our aim is your satisfaction. We gladly accept returns or exchanges within 14-days of you receiving your order. MORE
Items must be returned to us in the condition in which they were received. MORE
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We use Feefo to gather impartial feedback from our customers and have received their highest accolade "Gold Trusted Merchant Award" for 3 consecutive years!
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- Estella Bartlett Moon & Star Necklace
- Estella Bartlett Lucky Wishbone Necklace
- Estella Bartlett Silver Heart Necklace
- Estella Bartlett Pineapple Necklace
- Estella Bartlett Coco Friendship Bracelet
- Estella Bartlett Love Heart Earrings
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- Estella Bartlett Elephant Charm Necklace
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- Estella Bartlett Louise Heart Friendship Bracelet
- Estella Bartlett Locket Necklace
- Estella Bartlett Tiny Wishbone Necklace
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- Estella Bartlett Louise Star Friendship Bracelet
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- Estella Bartlett Lucky Wish Bone Bracelet
- Estella Bartlett Cowrie Shell Pendant
Estella Bartlett a wonderful new brand created by brother and sister duo Nick and Louise Bartlett in June 2014. With 20 years experience in the fashion and jewellery industry between them, Louise uses her creative flair to design the exquisite collections.
The Estella Bartlett collections include; necklaces, bracelets and earrings with tiny delicate whimsical charms featuring hearts, flower, stars, feathers, birds and animals. Each piece is silver or gold plated and beautifully packaged to make the ideal heart felt gift for someone special.
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Speed Cam Contractor Responds To Challenged Tickets By Cropping Photos, Moving Cameras
from the if-you-can't-fix-the-system,-just-'fix'-the-output dept
While the discussion over whether red light and speed cameras are helping or hurting continues, there's no denying they're very profitable. In most communities, the beneficiaries of the additional income are extremely reluctant to unplug the cash cow (if you will...). The beneficiary least likely to welcome any dip in income are the companies supplying the camera systems.
American Traffic Solutions is one of two major traffic cam contractors. Its DC-Maryland camera system has recently run into a few snags in the money-making department due to challenged tickets. In one documented case, a driver had his ticket thrown out because the photographic "evidence" showed two vehicles in frame -- and in radar range. (This leads one to speculate whether ATS simply decided to issue two tickets...)
Rather than simply toss out any questionable photos, ATS has decided it would be simpler (read: more profitable) to do a little creative work to alter the output.
The firms operating red light cameras and speed cameras in the District of Columbia and Maryland are working to suppress evidence that could be used to prove the innocence of a photo enforcement ticket recipient. In Washington, the Arizona-based vendor American Traffic Solutions has repositioned cameras and cropped photos so that it is impossible to determine whether another object or vehicle happens to be within the radar unit's field of view.Even though the cameras are also video-capable, no corroborating video evidence is provided to ticketed drivers. The efforts being undertaken to ensure ATS can "write" as many tickets as possible are questionable at best. As The Newspaper notes, they bear every resemblance to suppression of evidence. Cropping a second vehicle out of frame in order to push a ticket through unchallenged is legally dubious. Ethically, it's just plain wrong.
The change is important since DC hearing adjudicators have been throwing out citations whenever another vehicle was visible, creating the possibility of a spurious radar reading (view ruling). The cropping also makes it extremely difficult to use pavement lines to perform a secondary check of the speed estimate provided by the radar. Lines painted on the road for this purpose are visible in one photo, but not the other (view first photo, view second photo).
This isn't ATS' only experience in the ethically/legally dubious arena. Its system in Florida now sports one of the shortest yellow lights in the country, just a shade above the absolute minimum. Decreasing a yellow light by a half-second can result in double the amount of tickets issued. Of course, it also increases the number of accidents, but that's hardly of concern to the red light cam contractor. (It would seem to be a problem for the complicit DOTs, but the ultra-cheap source of revenue is apparently too good to pass up -- or even use responsibly.)
And it's not just law enforcement and traffic cam contractors reaping the benefits of cropped photos and shortened yellow lights -- the money goes all the way up. A reform bill aimed at red light/speed camera systems tanked earlier this year in the Maryland legislature, thanks to nearly $100,000 in direct contributions from camera companies (and their subcontractors) to lawmakers in Annapolis.
There's nothing behind these programs that indicate "safety" or "better driving" is the intended outcome, not when a camera contractor needs to resort to cropping photos and moving cameras just to ensure the income continues to roll in. The complicit government entities are only making it worse with their tendency to become swiftly addicted to new "revenue streams" -- ones that often complement campaign contributions from these same contractors.
The losers here are members of the public who are now more likely than ever to be slapped with bogus tickets, often without any reliable form of recourse.
Filed Under: cropping, evidence, photos, speed cameras
Companies: american traffic solutions


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HTC One full review
The HTC One is the flagship Android smartphone from HTC. It has a vibrant and clear Full HD screen, quad-core processor offering high-end performance, and an intriguing Ultrapixel camera that promises better shots in low light. Software wise the HTC One runs Android 4.1 Jelly Bean with HTC Sense - not quite the latest Google OS, but very close to it. So how does the HTC One perform in a market that now includes Apple's new iPhones, the Galaxy Note 3 and the Xperia Z1?
Find out more about this high-end Android smartphone and how it fits in in our HTC One review. Also see our article: 13 best smartphones: The best phone you can buy in 2013?
HTC One review: UK price
SIM free you can pick up the 32GB varient of the HTC One for around £450 inc VAT. That's actually relatively cheap - the Xperia Z1 and Galaxy Note 3 cost just a smidgeon more (and perform a little better, as you'll find out below). It's much cheaper than buying outright an iPhone. Contract deals in which the handset is 'free' start at £27.50 a month and are available from all major operators including EE, Three, Vodafone, O2, Orange and T-Mobile. Again, that's pretty cheap for a top-quality smartphone. PAYG deals start at £449 inc VAT from T-Mobile, Orange, O2, Vodafone and Three.
HTC One review: the best Android phone?
The HTC One is part of a wider push by HTC to make itself known as a serious and stylish player at the top end of the smartphone market. As such you'll note that it has more a premium 'feel' than other great handsets such as the Sony Xperia Z and the Samsung Galaxy S4. That means that out of the box the HTC One looks and feels like something expensive and luxurious. Since the HTC One hit the market, however, we've reviewed several great new handsets including the new iPhone 5S and iPhone 5C, the Note 3 and the Xperia Z1. Only the 5S of these has the same metallic finish as the HTC.
But remember that the aluminium from which the HTC One is constructed is both light and strong, but prone to picking up scratches. Like the iPhone 5 and Apple iPhone 5S the HTC One may require a case in order to protect it in pristine condition, and that's not something you could say about the Xperia or Galaxy phones, or other phones such as the Nokia Lumia 925 (and other Windows phones), and the BlackBerry Z10.
What is categorically the case is what we outline in this in-depth HTC One review: this is a great phone. It offers performance, features and build that only a handful of the best smartphones can.
(Stay on this page for our take on the HTC One's performance and build quality. On page two we look at HTC One display, audio and media. Click through to page three to find out about the HTC One camera and page four is where you find our review of the HTC One software and setup.)
HTC One review: Design and build quality
The new HTC One is a beautiful object. HTC says it has the best build quality of any phone on the market. It would. That is of course a subjective claim that cannot be proved or disproved. Let's say only this: in terms of the feel of the materials, and the way they fit together, we can name no smartphone that obviously bests the HTC One. It's like a bigger iPhone 5 with rounded edges, or a non-metallic Sony Xperia Z (without the flappy ports).
It is virtually all metal, aluminium in fact. Indeed the only part of the HTC One's shell that isn't obviously made of lightweight metal is the Gorilla Glass screen and a slim plasticky band that runs around the edge.
Like the iPhone 5 and Xperia Z the HTC One is also light for such a well-put-together device, yet it feels solid. HTC claims the new HTC One weighs 143g. According to the PC Advisor scales it is a much more significant 144g. But what's a gramme between colleagues? The key point is that it is big and solid, but surprisingly light. The iPhone 5 is a much lighter 112g, but the case in which I keep mine adds another 17g - this is a personal opinion, but I want to protect the iPhone, whereas the HTC feels like it could withstand the slings and arrows of life in my pocket unscathed. It's like the BlackBerry Z10 in that respect, only it feels like a much more desirable object. By contrast the Xperia Z1 weighs 170g, and the Note 3 168g. Both these phones are more plastic in construction, of course.
The Sony Xperia Z is probably the closest matched device in terms of size, shape and want-me coolness - that phone is marginally thinner at its widest point: 7.9mm as opposed to the HTC One's 9.45mm. But both weigh almost exactly the same. The Xperia Z1 is 8.7mm and the Note 3 8.3mm. These are both big screen phones, so the HTC One is arguable wider than it ought to be.
Like the Xperia Z1, the HTC One is perfectly balanced. That weight and size isn't a problem - it fits neatly into my trouser pocket. One minor down side is that the display isn't quite edge to edge, although the bezel is far from huge.
We have to point out the all-aluminium back. We wanted to be sceptical after HTC made such claims for the design and build of the new HTC One, but this sheet of brushed metal is the finishing touch on a beautifully put together device. This is a shiny precious thing you will want to have and hold.
There is one caveat, however. As I was testing the HTC One the back got hot to the touch. Not too hot to hold, but enough to make me worry about its long-term health. I was running benchmarks at the time which put enormous strain on the components, but it's not something you like to feel. (We've read reports elsewhere of this phenomenon, so it is an important consideration.)
We continue our new HTC One review with a look at its impressive display, and audio visual playback capabilities.
HTC One review: Performance, specs and benchmarks
We normally start with a smartphone's design and build, but we have to talk about the HTC One's performance, because when first we tested it, the HTC One was the fastest phone we have tested. That is no longer the case, but the HTC has nothing to be ashamed of. Read: HTC One mini vs HTC One comparison review.
Straight out of the box it feels zippy. And there is good reason for that. The HTC One combines a Qualcomm Snapdragon 600, quad-core, 1.7GHz processor with 2GB DDR2 RAM. It aced our GeekBench 2 synthetic performance benchmark, turning in an average score of 2721 points. At the time of testing this was a record: to put that into perspective the previous record holder was the Nexus 4 with a speedy 2009 points. The Sony Xperia Z - no slouch itself - scores 1986, and the iPhone 5 1650. None of those phones is slow, so you can see just how fast is the HTC One. Unfortunately it is no longer our record holder, having been superceded by several phones. These include the Note 3 (4057), and the Sony Xperia Z1 (3673). See also: iPhone 5 vs HTC One comparison review.
The good times continue when we tested graphics performance in our GLBenchmark HD framerate benchmark. The new HTC One smashed that test, too, turning in a top quality score of 34fps. That's not quite top of the shop - the iPhone 5 achieved a massive 38fps, and the Nexus 4 39fps. More recently we've seen better scores from the iPhone 5S (53fps), Xperia Z1 (53fps) and the record goes to the Galaxy Note 3 (54fps). What that bewildering array of stats actually means is this: the HTC One is one of a few phones that offer stunning graphics performance, although it has been considerable bettered since it launched.
In the SunSpider 2 test that measures JavaScript performance the HTC One is again close to the best. Our current gold standard is the iPhone 5S with a blink and you'll miss it time of 417ms. The HTC One can't get close to this with an average score of 1213ms. By contrast the Xperia Z1 and Note 3 are again the stellar performers, getting close to the latest iPhone with scores of 738ms and 589ms. Web browsing and Javascript performance on the new HTC One is swift and snappy - just not best ever.
In terms of storage you will have a choice of 32GB or 64GB. Sadly there is no expandable storage. There's an internal GPS antenna, GLONASS and a digital compass, as well as a gyro sensor, accelerometer, proximity sensor, and ambient light sensor. In terms of connectivity you get a 3.5mm stereo audio jack, NFC, Bluetooth 4.0, Wi-Fi and a micro-USB 2.0 (5-pin) port with mobile high-definition video link.
The HTC One is a smartphone boasting performance that is in the same class as the best of the rest in all key areas. It's just not the best at anything. See also: Group test: what's the best Android phone?
HTC One review: Audio and media
With a built-in amplifier, Beats Audio and two front-facing speakers the HTC One delivers a big sound with or without headphones. And in the box you get a pair of surprisingly decent in-ear headphones. They are black and red in a style suspiciously like Beats phones, although they are not those. HTC has equipped the HTC One with what it calls studio-quality sound with Beats Audio. In our tests the bundled headphones combined with the HTC One's audio subsystem provided a sound that is clear and well-rounded (we often find Beats branded audio to be over bassy).
In the demonstrations we saw - or heard - at the HTC One launch the dual frontal stereo speakers with built-in amplifiers delivered a decent sound in a reasonably sized room full of people. It's not like having a proper soundbar, but the handset alone will suffice in plenty of social occasions, which is saying something. (What is less socially acceptable is the marketing term HTC has appended to this audio set up: 'BoomSound'. Give me strength.)
The music player software has also been given a revamp. In essence you can see the lyrics while music plays. Which is, you know, nice. We saw this and can confirm that it works as advertised. It's not a deal-breaker for me, but I used to buy my CDs and tapes from Our Price, so it's possible I'm not the desired demographic.
In terms of making calls there's an HDR microphone and what HTC calls 'Sense Voice'. These features should make voice call quality better. We made a couple of calls that sounded good to both sides - but that's the case with all high-end smartphones, isn't it?
One little upgrade we did like the idea of, is the combination of infrared hidden in the power button and HTC Sense that allows you to use your HTC One as a TV remote. This may cause marital break down in homes with multiple HTC phones, of course, but it also offers a kind of EPG for finding programs.
The TV app is fairly simple to set up, simply select which devices you which to control and which manufacturer they are made by. You're then given test buttons until it works. We got it working with a Philips TV but failed with the TalkTalk YouView box.
We like the EPG guide but the other sections promoting what programmes are on are confusion and the on demand section cheekily tries to persuade you to buy films on HTC Watch. It's nothing amazing but handy when you've lost the remote control.
HTC One review: display
The HTC One's 4.7in Super LCD 3 display has the highest pixel density of any phone I have seen, or indeed any smartphone PC Advisor has tested. This Full HD 1080p display crams 468 pixels into every inch. That stat is incredible and almost meaningless. Suffice to say it is sharp.
It's razor sharp - not quite as colourful as the SuperAMOLED displays sported by the top Samsung handsets, but brilliant at rendering details in photos and video even under the stip lights of a room with no natural light. Viewing angles are good - a couple of people could probably watch a movie together at a push. The touchscreen is very responsive, too.
HTC One review: Camera
With the HTC One, HTC makes a bold move to redefine what we should expect from a smartphone camera. It's trying to get away from the megapixels arms race and focus on larger pixels in order to allow for greater light absorbtion. Or, to put it another way, it has only a 4Mp camera at the rear and a 2.1Mp, 88 degree wide angle lens with HDR capability at the front. I'm tipping my hat to HTC for getting away from the ludicrously large sensors now packed into phones. There are many more important parts to a camera than the sensor.
But is it any good? The short answer is yes: this is a decent smartphone camera. The faster sensor means you can quickly capture shots - critical for a smartphone snapper. And there are good options: you can change exposure and contrast, tweak ISO levels and adjust sharpness. There's also an HDR mode, but you don't get the shot-selection modes offered by other high-end phones, however.
Pictures taken were pretty good: occasionally noisy which we didn't expect from a camera with such a low pixel count, but good in low-light conditions. It's not a camera for serious photographers, but it will let you take multiple decent snaps in a timely fashion - even in a dingy bar.
We've included some photo and video below, but it is also worth pointing out that HTC says the camera is best at shooting images that are then viewed on the HTC One's screen.
HTC has added some interesting software features to its camera that seem compelling. Following BoomSound into the Ministry of Silly Names is 'HTC Zoe', which captures an HD video every time you take a photo by grabbing an image 0.6 seconds before you press the shutter button, and then capturing info for three seconds afterwards. The images and videos from a given event are then stitched together on the fly in order to create an up to 30-second video which you can export as a MPEG4. Expect to see a lot of this on Facebook.
NEXT PAGE: HTC ONE, test clips, software, setup and battery life >>
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ACParadise Network: American Cosplay Paradise American Cosplay Experience American Cosplay Snapshots
Hmm....I actually suck at intros so I'll just smile and nod. ^_^
Recent Updates
Newest Favorites
Newest Fans
Recent Comments
- Sephirayne says, "Fantastic costume. Love the scythe"
- For Abel Nightroad from Trinity Blood
- LadyTenkage says, "Awesome-ness!!"
- For Chrono from Chrono Crusade


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What is Multi Lingo?
Multi Lingo is a PHP class which lets you to translate your website into every language you want.
With this simple but powerful class, you can define phrases in admin panel and set the text written instead of it in each language.
Also, you can define collaborators for each language to help you during the translation process!
Version log
v1.1 (Feb. 8, 2013): Fixed the bug with UTF-8 (thanks to Icemanmx)
- Installing easily with 2 lines of coding.
- Automatic recognition of RTL languages.
- Defining words in collaboration system.
- DB-Based translation to improve flexibility and security.
- Easy to manage languages.
- News section in administration panel to inform collaborators about latest updates.


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Story highlights
- Elizabeth Mayo says she and her husband met in their teens
- She says her dad was outraged to learn she was dating a man who's half-black
- She says she hid romance from dad for years, then confronted him when she planned to wed
- Mayo: Dad finally accepted love of her life, showing change is possible, forgiveness important
Elizabeth Mayo is a digital producer for CNN's "Early Start" and "Starting Point." All this week, "AC360°" airs its special series "Kids on Race: The Hidden Picture" at 8 and 10 p.m. ET on CNN. Thursday's installment will focus on interracial dating.
(CNN)It all started on my second date with Alex. It was 1997 and on a whim we went into Manhattan to see the ball drop on New Year's Eve in Times Square. The closest we could get was 55th Street and Seventh Avenue. That's pretty far away, but we could still see the glittering ball touching the sky. He was 19, I was 17.
For him, I was his childhood dream girl: I'm tall, have curly brown hair and I play cello, so I was the real-life version of Sigourney Weaver's character in "Ghostbusters" (his favorite movie). To me, he was smart, doting and hilarious.
On what had to be the coldest night in the history of the ball drop, we shivered next to each other waiting patiently, with a few thousand spectators, to get one year closer to the millennium. At midnight, the ball dropped and the crowd erupted.
We looked at each other in anticipation and we kissed. Fireworks went off. Literally, behind us in Central Park fireworks set the sky ablaze to commemorate the 100th anniversary of the five boroughs constituting New York City. And when the heck did that saxophone player show up playing "Auld Lang Syne"? We took this only-in-the-movies moment as a sign from the universe that we were meant to be together.
There was one problem: Alex is half-black. I am white, half-Spanish in fact.
In the back of my mind, I knew Alex's race would pose a problem for my family. Not to get explicit, but racial epithets were common in my house. My dad emigrated from Spain in the early 1970s and worked in construction.
The culture on the job, coupled with his solid self-righteousness and Old World thinking, led to an intense hatred of anything "different." The N-word, the C-word, the other C-word, the G-word, the S-word -- they all echoed in my house regularly. My mom, who moved to New York from Iowa, was indifferent on race but wasn't about to challenge my dad's way of thinking.
How did I come out of this house without being a racist? That I can't answer. Race wasn't an issue for me. I grew up in Queens and was exposed to all races when I was young. When I met Alex, it sounds corny, but I never saw a color -- I just saw Alex.
Fast-forward to senior prom: I decided this would be the time for my parents to meet the guy I'd been dating. I looked stunning in my red-sequined Jessica McClintock ball gown, and Alex was dapper in a tux and top hat. We had already, by that point, said we loved each other and knew this was something special. I thought that introducing him to my parents in a public place where my dad couldn't freak out was the way to go.
The conversation in the parking lot at the prom literally went like this:
"Dad, this is Alex."
"Nice to meet you, Alex."
"Nice to meet you, sir."
"OK, have a good time." Then my dad walked away.
Alex and I danced through the night and left the next day for the customary fun weekend to the Jersey Shore with my classmates. I returned home a day later.
Saying a nuclear bomb went off in my family would not begin to describe what happened. My dad lost it. He had stewed while I was away, waiting to unleash his fury. I was led to the basement to receive the lecture of my life. No way was his daughter going to date a black man.
"Do you want to be a big mama ... barefoot and pregnant for the rest of your life? Do you want a bunch of black babies?" he screamed. "You're going to throw your life away on that n-----?"
Those are just some of the lines I remember. It went on for hours, and he said a lot more, but I had shut my brain off after the first few minutes. In my mind, I was just dating Alex. In my dad's mind, my life was over.
The fallout continued for months. My dad refused to talk to me or co-sign my school loan papers for college. I was kicked out of the house on more than one occasion. Alex felt helpless, livid at being judged by a handshake and his skin color, but he knew it didn't have anything to do with him. It was all in my dad's head.
From what I'd heard about Alex's parents, it sounded like we were on track to repeat history. Alex's mom, a white woman from Long Island, had a troubled relationship with her own father as a result of her dating Alex's dad, a black man from Georgia. I was grateful that she let me hide out in her apartment and served as my refuge, and she stayed out of the drama. We had to figure this out on our own.
All the fighting never changed my feelings for Alex, and I never considered breaking up with him to appease my family. I knew Alex was "the one," and I wasn't about to let my racist father get in the way of my happiness.
For the next eight years, I dated Alex in secret. My dad didn't know a thing. It didn't matter since we barely talked. My mom had an inkling, but I didn't tell her much. Alex and I had milestones, we went to friends' weddings, became honorary aunts and uncles. We even moved in together, and for years my parents were none the wiser.
By 2006, I was well into my job at CNN. My colleagues knew what was going on and encouraged me to talk to my dad again, this time as a strong adult woman who was succeeding in a career and no longer financially dependent on my parents. They were right. It was eating me up inside that I had to pretend that a huge part of my life didn't exist.
I took my parents to lunch, hoping again that there would be safety in a public space. Sometime before the entrée, I explained that I was still dating the same man who was rejected so ferociously nearly 10 years earlier. I told my dad I understood he was trying to protect his daughter, but he should have trusted me to make the right decision for myself. I said I couldn't pretend I wasn't with Alex, we wanted to get married, and to be a part of my life, they had to accept it.
"Do you love him? And does he love you?" my dad asked cautiously.
"Yes. He's my soul mate," I answered.
After eight years of tears and anxiety, my dad conceded.
I sometimes wonder why my dad had a change of heart, because all discussion on the matter ended that day. I don't think he had one "aha" moment, but maybe it just took years of rolling it over in his head and realizing that his preconceived notions of what would happen to me if I dated Alex were wrong. I was neither a "big mama" (what does that even mean?) or barefoot, pregnant or destitute. I was solidly in my adult life and happy in love.
Alex and I were married on August 4, 2007. My dad walked me down the aisle
It's been 14 years since the roller coaster started. It almost seems like the lying, the hurt and the drama happened to someone else. Alex is my family, my other half, the love of my life. He's just as much a member of the family as anyone else. Alex visits my parents often, and my dad sometimes calls him just to chat. Sometimes my dad will jokingly refer to him as "chocolate milk" or "Barack Obama," maybe as way of relieving some tension around the intense hatred he had once possessed.
We even took a family trip to my dad's childhood home in Spain. I think my dad was secretly thrilled to have Alex to share his stories of walking for miles as a 5-year-old to see my grandmother in the hospital, or throwing a cat on a horse's back just to watch both animals squeal. Slowly, my dad shared the family myths and stories with my husband and we grew closer.
As we get ready to start our own family, I think about how I will explain this all to my future child (or children -- that's still up for discussion) about what we went through to be together. Cheesy as it sounds, I think I'll tell them that love really conquers all, and time, with a dash of patience, heals many wounds. I'll teach them that change is always possible, even when you think it's not. And I'd emphasize that forgiveness for someone else's misperception doesn't have to come from an apology, but can be a way of allowing yourself to deal with a situation that is out of your control.
And I'll make sure not to censor anything, because they deserve to know how we found a way to break through hatred to find acceptance.
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I just got here on these forums because I wanted to become more knowledgeable about network security (euphemism alert) and similar topics, but I get distracted easily and end up moving naturally to the more political discussions.
I have read through a lot of post in the political section and I keep seeing a recurring theme that is enormously grounded in certainty. That is the fact that evil is a natural human characteristic. I would not argue against the many examples that show this, I have only this to ask at the moment: If evil and wrongdoing was as hard-wired as you claim it is in people, then why is it considered evil? Doesn't the nature of evil require that it be rooted in the minority?
(I know mod senses are tingling about this being mis-categorized, so I'll bring it home with a political example to keep this discussion from being too much about nothing)
Communism! No more evil words have ever been spoken in America. Such a misguided idea, but why? The assumption I keep seeing is that there is only one kind of communism, that being state socialism. There is another assumption, that being the opposite and better version of socialism is democracy, but democracy and socialism are describing two different systems. Democracy is majority rule. Socialism is an economic system where all people, not just a select few, control the means of production and gain from the profits on a democratically decided system. (What the hell is your point man! I know, I'm getting there soon, just bear with me.)
America does not have a true democratic system. If we did, we would vote on all issues rather than just for people. That is your reason for the world moving in the wrong direction. The power is in the hands of the few, the evil, the minority. These few people can be bought and sold, but nobody has the resources to buy off a ruling majority (at least not for an extended period).
Those few people controlling everything depend on us feeling contempt for others and their ways. We should stop and ask ourselves "Am I evil? Are my family and friends evil?" Though everyone would answer differently, I think the overwhelming majority would say no. The people in power wouldn't stand a chance against an empowered population.


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So what if this chromed Shelby Cobra replica was mere eye candy in a garage-floor supplier's SEMA booth. Someone had to strip and high-polish the thing, and make sure the plastic parts were properly mocked and coated for maximum effect. Maybe it's not even close to tasteful, and would likely be wanted for murder on South Florida highway in August. But radness comes in all sizes, shapes and level of retina threat.
MTM's Polished Audi A8 [internal]


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Im not feeling to good today, I have a swollen face (I think I've got an infection or something, gross. Soz!) and Im generally just feeling a bit under the weather. Its so cold here in London today I can hardly feel my fingers, even as I type this I cant feel my hands! Considering I'm inside my flat this is not a good thing! Think I'm going to have to get some gloves suitable to typing! Today I went to a Missguided Press day and saw the lovely Sara, Tonight I sort of invited myself to a event, then got properly invited to, that Kate is doing for some haircare brands.
I'm probably going to wear something else to the event tonight, but I wore this to Missguided press event today. I was running late so threw the easiest and simplest thing on! The coat is my bargain of the whole sale season, down to £10 from a whopping £59.99 (srsly new look?). Sara said it looked like a coat a Grandad would wear! I totally see it as my Grandad used to wear the same, all I need now is a flat cap! Too far? I had to wear a gilet under it purely because I was so cold! It looked kinda bulky but I like that look if it makes sense? I like to have all my layers on top!


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Author Quest 2020
Open to young authors age 10 - 13, Author Quest is 4 days/3 nights of writing courses, instruction, and classes in beautiful northern lower Michigan. Oh, there will be lots of other fun activities, too . . . but this camp's main focus is on becoming an even better writer! Instructors include Johnathan Rand and other published authors! No matter what kind of writing you enjoy: fiction, non-fiction, fantasy, thriller/horror, humor, mystery, poetry, history . . . this camp is designed for writers who have this in common: they LOVE to write, and they want to improve their skills!
What will you do at Author Quest? You will write. Then, you'll write more. And more. This camp is ONLY for students who take their writing seriously, and, if your application is accepted, you'll write more in four days than you may have ever written before . . . and have a great time doing it! Of course, there will be many other activities to enjoy, including some *special* surprise events!
Cost is $400 per student, which includes all meals and activities. A refundable $100 deposit is required upon the acceptance of your application. Note that each student will be responsible for various necessities such as toiletry items, bedding, etc. A map to camp and a list of what to bring and what not to bring will be included in your application packet upon acceptance to Author Quest. (Advance warning: NO PHONES, video games, mp3 or CD players will be allowed! These will be confiscated and sold at auction on-line. Camp counselors will split the money! You've been warned!)
If you'd like to be considered for Author Quest, here's what you need to do:
1) If you're between the ages of 10 and 13, discuss with your parent(s)/guardian about why you'd like to attend Author Quest, and if it would be possible.
2020 Dates: June 24 - 27 CANCELLED; August 12 - 15. No, it's NOT too early to register! All camps fill to capacity. 2020 Camps will be held at Ocqueoc Outdoor Center (Presque Isle County, Millersburg, Michigan).
2) Download and fill out the official Author Quest application worksheet, and include a 100-word essay about why you wish to attend Author Quest, and what you expect to achieve. Please note that not all applicants will be selected to attend Author Quest, so do your very best! Only 60 young authors will be selected to attend each camp, so it will be important that you fill out your application request and send it in right away. ONCE AGAIN: ALL CAMPS FILL TO CAPACITY. If you wish to attend, don't delay.
Questions about Author Quest?


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We've featured some wonderfully befuddling Polish movie posters before, but Andrzej Pagowski's design for Close Encounters of the Third Kind transforms the movie into a dreadful family comedy with McDonald's dance-offs. It's on eBay if you're in need of a conversation piece. And for more movies lost in translation, see the painted posters of Ghana.
[Via Boing Boing]


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Reading A-Z resources organized into weekly content-based units and differentiated instruction options.
Informational (nonfiction), 1,715 words, Level Z (Grade 5), Lexile 1050L
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Genetics at Work explores the role that genetics plays in our growing world. The field of genetics is an ever-changing and rapidly expanding branch of science. From farming to crime fighting and disease prevention, genetics is shaping our future. Students will have the opportunity to learn more about these advancements while practicing the skills of summarizing and identifying main ideas and supporting details. The book and lesson are also available for levels Z1 and Z2.
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Being a new mom is hard. Being a new working mom is even harder. On top of the anxiety you feel as a new parent, you're also dealing with responsibilities at the office, trying to get back on your feet after being away for an extended period of time, missing your baby, and -- of course -- working mom guilt. We asked, "What did you do that helped you make the transition back from maternity leave back to work a bit more managable?" Here are a few top tips from your fellow working mothers:
1.) Come back on a Thursday. A two-day week is easier to deal with than a full five-day week.
2.) Visit your baby on your lunch hour. If your childcare provider is not near by, use your lunch time to do exercise, organize, or plan, so that you have more free time to be with your baby once you get home.
3.) Phase work back in to your life. See if your employer will allow you to work part-time for a few weeks before you return to work full-time. (The Family and Medical Leave Act allows for it, but the final decision is up to your company.)
4.) Give yourself permission to feel conflicted/elated/guilty/happy/angry/tired. Your emotions are normal, and it's OK.
5.) Set your schedule -- and stick to it. If the hours your boss wants you to work make it difficult for you to juggle career and parenthood, talk about it and try to set hours that work for you. If possible, avoid setting a bad precedent; if you work late "just this once," you might end up working late every week.
6.) If you're continuing to breastfeed, pump regularly and often to keep your milk supply up.
7.) If you're not pumping, give yourself breaks throughout the day anyway. It will help keep your energy levels up and your mind clear.
8.) See if your boss will allow you to work from home one or more days per week.
9.) Get your support network ready. Know who you can call if you need to vent, and try to network with other women who have been through what you're going through (there are plenty of us here at Work It, Mom!)
10.) Take your time. Transitions aren't instantaneous; it may take you a couple of months -- or more -- to feel like you're really back in the swing of things.


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Technical Problem With This Chapter?
Author: Antosha
Story: The F Words 4: Family
Part: Family
Rating: Teens
Setting: Post-DH
Status: Completed
Reviews: 17
Words: 6,617
Updated: May 4, 2008, 3:39pm
The Weasleys gathered outside the Burrow and, as a group, peered up at the third floor.
"Reckon it's safe to go in?" Ron asked Charlie. Charlie simply shrugged.
"Well," murmured George, "can't have lasted long."
Charlie wrinkled his nose. "Not the first time, at any rate."
"Oh, dear," sighed Percy, "there is that."
Fleur giggled, wan as she was, and Bill joined her, while Ron's face contorted in disgust. "Merlin," he groaned, "how many times d'you think—?"
"Boys!" barked their father, "How can you possibly imagine…?"
Molly turned what she thought of as her dragon's eye on her children and then upon her husband. "I don't notice you being in a hurry to burst in there, Arthur Weasley."
They all shrank from the door.
With a snort she turned from them and walked into her kitchen.
: :
If Harry was touching Ginny a bit more than was strictly necessary in order to put the kettle on, he could be forgiven, perhaps, for jumping when the front door burst open and Molly Weasley swept in, looking very much as she had the first time he visited the Burrow. He had seen what she was capable of with a wand all too recently, and so it wasn't unnatural for him to note her resemblance to a large, protective beast of prey.
"Hey, Mum!" Ginny chirped. "We've just started tea."
Mrs. Weasley froze in the doorway, and for a moment Harry's heart was in his throat. Then she blinked, smiled and strode into the room. "Tea would be lovely, dear," she said, a little higher than usual, perhaps, as she hung her summer cloak on the hook just inside the door, and sat at the table.
Harry turned to Ginny, about to ask what he should or shouldn't do, but Ginny just winked, which left Harry rather speechless.
In all honesty, all that Harry could think about in that moment was her face. Her smile. The smell of her hair. The feel of her skin beneath his fingers. Hopes and dreams…
There was a quiet scuffle at the front door as all of the Weasley men—and Fleur—shuffled in, each seeming to want to be the last to enter. Somehow, by dint of lack of seniority perhaps, Ron ended up in front. "Hey, Ginny. Hey, Harry. Nice weather, i'n'it?"
"Yup," said Harry. He turned to Mr. Weasley. "Nice at Shell Cottage?"
"Oh, yes," said Arthur. "Very lovely."
"London, too," coughed Charlie, and all of the Weasley men coughed in agreement. Fleur giggled again, and Harry could feel Ginny's back vibrating against his.
"Shall we have a seat, gentlemen, Fleur?" asked Percy, even more stiffly than usual, but rather than take the mickey out of him, his brothers all nodded solemnly and arranged themselves at the table, staring down at their hands.
"Oh, Harry," Ginny said, her voice low in a way that Harry had never heard it except under very private circumstances, "maybe we should have cleaned the table. After, you know—"
"Ginny!" squealed Harry, as all of the members of her family—even Fleur and Mrs. Weasley—leapt to their feet with looks of horror on their faces.
Ginny snorted, threw her arms around Harry's shoulders from behind, snorted again, and finally burst out into loud trumpet peels of laughter. "YOUR FACES!" she howled. "Merlin, your faces, it's just priceless!"
The assembled Weasleys stared at her, and then at Harry, and he felt more than a bit of a threat behind their blank expressions. "Ginny," Harry whispered with growing desperation.
"And you, Mum!" snorted Ginny into Harry's shoulder. "'How can you even think that a good boy like Harry would get up to anything disrespectful—' HA!"
"Ginevra—" began Mrs. Weasley in a low voice.
"W-we just t-talked," Harry spluttered, "really."
Before her mother could answer, Ginny crowed, "And snogged a good bit!" As her family's faces all began to turn white, she added, "No more than I've seen every single one of you lot do—even you, Mum!"
And they all turned red.
The kettle began to whistle the tune to "A Cauldron Full of Hot Strong Love," but no one thought to remove it from the flame for what felt to Harry like an entire lifetime. Finally, Molly Weasley sat once again in her chair, the one closest to the stove. Without turning back to Harry and her daughter, she said, with something of her usual cheerful authority, "PG Tips, dears, in the cupboard to the right of the sink. Third shelf from the top."
Ginny prepared the tea, and Harry Levitated cups and saucers to everyone. Ron, who refused to look Harry in the face, the hypocrite, followed his preternatural sixth sense to where a stash of freshly bake scones were hidden. Charlie Summoned a pot of lemon curd from the fridge, and, as Ginny poured out, Harry watched as the color in everyone's face returned to normal.
Their expressions ranged from mortified—Percy—to bemused—Bill and George—to perplexed—Charlie and Mr. Weasley—to positively flummoxed. Ron, of course.
Mrs. Weasley looked as if nothing more or less were happening than a family tea, while Ginny looked happier than Harry had ever seen her, and as she finally sat beside him, a wave of affection overcame his sense of self-preservation; he grasped her hand right there in plain view. For a man who had felt very close to dying for the second time in a month, Harry was feeling quite wonderful.
Ron, of course, was distracted by food and by his thoughts, whatever they might be. As the youngest Weasley brother dug into his third scone, Harry broke the silence. "Blimey, Ron. You ought to be careful, turning that color! I haven't seen anyone go quite that shade of magenta since…"
As Ron blinked at him, chewing on, Harry suddenly realized that there was something that he had forgot. "Mr. Weasley?"
"Er, yes, Harry?" Arthur Weasley peered at Harry over the top of his cup with trepidation.
"How are my relatives?"
"Your—?" Mr. Weasley's anxiety melted into sheer confusion.
"Aunt Petunia, Dudley, Uncle…" Harry pointed at Ron, who had stopped mid-chew, but was still blinking. "Mr. Diggle and Hestia Jones took them off someplace safe, but, I mean…" Harry was suddenly aware that the entire table was staring at him. "Are they…? Well, I mean, do they even know the war is over?"
"Bugger," hissed Bill, earning slaps on the back of either hand from his wife and his mother. Ignoring their rebukes, Bill muttered, "Mad-Eye was their main contact. And Remus was the backup. I don't know that anyone even knows where they are."
"Well," Ron said, swallowing at last, "it's not like you care, is it, Harry?"
Looking around at them, at the sea of freckled faces that were more his family than the Dursleys had ever been, he surprised himself as much as them by answering, "Yeah. Yeah, I think I do."
: :
As it turned out, Kingsley knew exactly where they were, since Remus had decided that, Moody being dead, he himself needed a backup. The interim Minister insisted—despite protests from half a dozen secretaries (Percy among them)—on accompanying Harry to the Dursleys' safe haven on the Channel Islands.
Ginny insisted on coming along, but it was generally decided, much to Ron's chagrin, that the sight of any of the other Weasleys was more likely to put the Dursleys on guard than at ease. Ginny made very sympathetic comments to her brother about how difficult it must be to be left behind, which made George laugh and Hermione titter. Ron wisely shut up, for which Hermione kissed him.
This kiss was the main topic of conversation at the Burrow for the next two days.
Of course, it did ease Ron's disappointment that Kingsley's schedule forced the party to leave at just after dawn. Ron decided that, all things being equal, a lie-in might be a better choice than visiting Harry's relatives after all.
As they strode out the Weasleys' front door, Kingsley wasted no time turning to Harry and asking, "So, Harry, what are your plans?"
Ginny bristled, stepping protectively between Kingsley and her boyfriend, but Harry just laughed. "You're the third Minister for Magic to ask me that."
"Well, it's a real question," Kingsley said with a sad smirk. "I may not be as desperate for your help as my predecessors were, but there's no question that everyone—inside the Ministry and out—is curious about where you're headed."
"Mr. Shacklebolt…"
"Come on, Harry. Kingsley, please."
Harry shook his head and placed his hands on Ginny's square shoulders. "Kingsley. I like you a lot more than I did Minister Scrimgeour, but I'll say the same to you as I did to him. I don't want to be anyone's poster boy."
"Who said anything about a poster boy?" Kingsley chortled. "You're a celebrity, it's true, but you're also a bloody talented wizard, and we could use you in any number of places. The Ministry is desperately short-handed these days; between the casualties from the war and sweeping out some of the trash, there's not a department that couldn't use you."
"I…" Harry blinked, and pulled Ginny closer to him. "I was thinking of going back to Hogwarts."
"Huh," grunted Kingsley. "I suppose I can't blame you." He winked at Ginny, but his expression remained thoughtful as they started walking towards the Burrow's boundaries once again.
Harry and Ginny's hands swung between them. He felt suddenly, blissfully free.
They had nearly reached the paddock when Ginny suddenly squeezed Harry's hand and stopped. "Mi—Kingsley?"
Ginny looked back at Harry, a funny expression on her face that put him in mind, for some reason, of Lupin. "If Harry'd said yes, what would you have asked him to do?"
Kingsley peered at the two of them. "Minerva tells me you wanted to be an Auror, Harry. Is that true?"
Harry had so many things running through his head in that instant that he couldn't even begin to think what to say beyond, "Yeah."
"Still considering it?" Kingsley's eyes narrowed slightly, and Harry was suddenly aware that dark circles showed through the dark skin beneath them.
Harry peered down at Ginny, whose face was now gathered in exactly the same thoughtful, sad smile she had given him at Dumbledore's funeral so long ago. "I… I hadn't really thought about it. I've been a bit… distracted."
Kingsley smiled. "I can't think why. Well, the Auror department was decimated; we haven't had a new trainee since Tonks's class anyway—constant cutbacks shut down the academy. There were casualties during the war, and I'm sad to say that some of us turned out to be… unfit. Fully staffed, the department is meant to have thirty-six Aurors in the field, plus another fifty or so support staff. I can field a dozen now, and most of them are reaching an age where de-gnoming the garden sounds a lot more attractive than facing some madman spitting curses. We need new blood badly, and I won't deny having Harry Potter join the department would make people feel a lot safer, not to mention making the Wizengamot more willing to open up the purse a bit."
"Thought you didn't want a poster boy," grumbled Harry.
"I don't. I've seen you fight, son, and I know your character. You'd do the Aurors proud. But politics is also politics, and sadly I'm the one stuck with the job of running this mess until we can get a proper election organized and I can go back to having fun on the job, dodging hexes." Kingsley laughed, rumbling, contagious, like a very tall, very dark-skinned Father Christmas. Ginny joined him, and even Harry couldn't help but smile. "So, what do you think?"
Harry shrugged again and looked down at Ginny.
Again she gave him that bemused look, though there was more of a smile there this time. "He's got a people-saving thing," she said to Kingsley.
"Thank Merlin for that!" Kingsley chuckled. Then he peered at the couple a bit shrewdly. "I'll need to open up the academy again, and the old building's so thoroughly cursed we'll have to pull it down and rebuild. And we're too short-handed to maintain much of an Auror presence up at Hogwarts, despite the fact that the school's boundary spells were compromised during the battle, and they'll need even more help this year." He smiled. "I don't suppose Minerva and the governors would mind if I were to run the Auror academy out of the school for a year or two, do you?"
Ginny's smile brightened, and Harry could feel himself begin to grin too. "No, sir. I don't."
"I think my brother Ron would be interested in joining as well," Ginny added. "And a few of the other members of the DA—Susan Bones, for sure, and Terry Boot."
"Wonderful," said Kingsley. "The more the merrier—you trained those DA tykes well, Harry, and any Bones is always welcome in MLE." He extended his hand. "So, are we on?"
After another look at Ginny, who nodded, Harry took it. "Yeah," he said. "Absolutely."
"Welcome to the family!" boomed Kingsley, pumping Harry's hand, and they all laughed.
: :
They arrived on Fee Sark a few moments later, where the sun was shining and the coast of Normandy glimmered on the horizon.
"Nice weather," said Kingsley, and seemed more than a bit put off when Harry and Ginny began to giggle. Stiffening to his full, imposing height, he muttered, "Well, you don't always get that on the Channel."
"Never been, sir," Harry managed to say before he and Ginny both burst into guffaws.
Shaking his head, Kingsley led them across the tiny island towards a low, lone house that stood near the eastern cliffs. As they approached, Harry began to feel nervous; the house seemed to be missing parts of two walls and there didn't seem to be any signs of life. "Kingsley? It… It looks deserted."
"Ah!" said Kingsley, knocking a fist against his own forehead. "Sorry, I forgot. Look at me, both of you, please." When they had complied, he looked around for a moment and then whispered, "The Dursleys are concealed at Siren Farm."
Harry was confused—why bother to tell them that? But when he turned back to their destination, he understood. What had looked like a single, abandoned farmhouse was a small collection of buildings: a house, a garage—though where one would drive to, Harry had no idea—and several smaller outbuildings, including what looked to Harry to be a broom shed. All where brightly painted, sparkling in the early morning sunshine.
At the front of the house, a figure knelt, working on a flowerbed, and Harry knew even from this distance that it was Aunt Petunia, even as he knew without being able to say why that something was wrong. Different.
"Is that your aunt?" Ginny whispered as the trail they were walking brought them to the end of a fallow field and up to the garden gate.
"Yeah," Harry murmured, though he felt as if he almost couldn't recognize her; something about her posture…
"She doesn't look so bad," Ginny murmured.
Harry was about to answer—how, he wasn't sure—when Aunt Petunia looked up. She gave a startled smile and stood.
As Kingsley opened the gate, three more figures appeared. Dedalus Diggle, wearing a bright purple dressing gown not terribly different from his usual robes, stepped out of the house, wand drawn in one hand, a tray with two steaming mugs in the other, while the door to the small building that Harry had thought was a broom shed burst open, revealing Hestia Jones and a shirtless, sweaty person who Harry could only assume was Dudley.
"That's your fat cousin?" muttered Ginny under her breath.
The blond hair was right. The height was right. Even the red face looked very Dursley-ish. But this boy was chiseled, muscular and lean as some marble sculpture, and he stood in front of Hestia, a metal bar grasped threateningly before him.
"Blimey," Harry gasped, "Big D, you look good."
Dudley—for Dudley it had to be—frowned, but before he could respond, Dedalus barked, "Where did Harry Potter and I first meet?"
Harry blinked. It was amazing how in just a few short weeks the habits of suspicion and distrust had been forgotten. "Uh. At the Leaky Cauldron, I think. Hagrid was bringing me to buy my wand."
Dedalus nodded, and when he lowered his wand, Hestia and Dudley stood down as well.
Suddenly, Harry was wrapped in a set of thin arms that had never held him so tenderly before. Aunt Petunia sobbed as she grasped him. "Oh! I'm so glad that you're all right!"
Harry had no idea how to answer this—it was even more alien to his expectations than a fit Dudley or an aggressive Dedalus Diggle. He patted her back and stared, first at Ginny, who gazed back at him with her jaw open, and then at Dedalus, at Hestia and at Dudley.
"Been right worried about you, Harry," Dudley said, standing at ease, though his biceps still bulged.
"You have?" Harry said, stunned.
Hestia chuckled. "Of course we all have. You're our hope. Is everything all right? We haven't heard a thing all these months."
"Did have a spot of bother just after Easter," chirped Dedalus, much more his cheerful self. "Death Eaters attacked Hestia and Dudley while they were out on a training run."
"Dudley took out the first," added Hestia, looking proud. "Roundhouse kick nearly knocked the stupid git's head off. Served him right. I got the other two while they were gaping."
"Always said you'd have made a good Auror, Hestia," laughed Kingsley.
"And spend all that time writing reports and drinking bad tea? Not on your life." The three older wizards all chuckled. Petunia continued to sniffle into Harry's shirt.
"Where's… Uncle Vernon?" Harry asked. It wasn't that he wanted to see his uncle, certainly, but there was something odd going on, and Harry still couldn't put his finger on it.
"Ah," said Dedalus Diggle, sober again.
"Er," mumbled Dudley.
"He passed away," Aunt Petunia said. "Heart failure."
It shouldn't have made Harry sad. Merlin, the obvious humor of it should have made him want to laugh. And yet he found himself saying, "Oh, I'm so sorry," and meaning it.
"Thank you," Petunia said. She still had not released Harry. Looking up at him, she said, "I realize that there was not much love lost between you, but he always did try to do what we thought was best for you. And those last months here, well…" Unaccountably, Aunt Petunia began to pinken. "Not having work to go to, not having all of our responsibilities… His last few months really were like a second honeymoon for us. It was like spending time with the Vernon I fell in love with all those years ago all over again." She beamed up at Harry.
"Er," he began.
"Not a bad way to go, either, lucky old bastard," snorted Hestia.
Beside him, Dudley hissed, "Hessie!"
Harry had no idea what they were talking about—the idea of a happy Vernon Dursley, a Vernon Dursley content with something other than yelling at people, was so far beyond his understanding that whatever it was that Hestia was trying to say about the way he died…
Harry looked at Ginny, who seemed as perplexed as he was; Kinglsey was sniggering. Aunt Petunia…
Aunt Petunia was blushing like a schoolgirl, and suddenly Harry felt certain he knew just what Hestia had been talking about. Looking at the gruff witch standing with her elbow on his cousin's shoulder, Harry spluttered, "You mean, Uncle Vernon died…?"
"With his boots on," snorted Hestia.
Dedalus Diggle tittered. Dudley winced, and Harry couldn't help but join him.
Aunt Petunia recovered her speech first. "I will always know that he went… happy."
Ginny was looking dangerously close to laughter, which Harry implored her silently to hold in. "Well, that's good, then," he said. "Still, I'm sorry."
"Thank you, Harry," Petunia said. Then she straightened up, releasing him at last. With four crisp swipes of her fingers, she erased any evidence that she had been doing anything but gardening for the past half-hour. "Now, are things going well?"
"Is You-Know-Who still in control of the Ministry?" Dedalus piped up.
Dudley added, "Those masked bastards made it sound like hell out there."
"They were quite happy to tell us you were dead, Harry," Hestia spat, "though none of us believed them. When I Obliviated them, I made sure to add a memory in of running into you and a small army over in Brittany. Hopefully that confused the bastards a bit."
Again Kingsley laughed. Harry looked down at his aunt. "It's over," he said. "I killed Voldemort. We won."
"You… killed him?" Petunia's eyes grew wide.
Harry nodded. "Well, he killed himself, really."
"Way to go, Harry!" said Dudley.
"He was brilliant," said Ginny, grinning.
Petunia turned, noticing Ginny apparently for the first time. "Oh!" She stepped back, hand to her chest, looking much more like the Aunt Petunia that Harry knew.
"Um, Aunt Petunia, Dudley," Harry said stepping over to Ginny and taking her hand, "this is Ginny, Ginny Weasley. She's…" He looked down at her. What was she? Anything that he could call her seemed either too enormous or too small.
"I'm Harry's girlfriend," Ginny supplied. Smiling brightly with the morning sun blazing in her face.
"Of course you are," Petunia said, still looking shocked. "It's just…"
"I look like Harry's mum?"
"Not… Not really. You don't look terribly like Lily at all. But when I first saw you, there is something, yes, it was quite uncanny."
Harry looked down at Ginny. His clearest images of his mother were all from her girlhood. From Severus Snape's memories. The girl in those memories was taller than Ginny, clear-skinned and auburn-haired, with the green, almond-shaped eyes that greeted Harry every time he looked into a mirror. She looked nothing like Ginny.
But there was something, Aunt Petunia was right. A fire. Something.
There was, too—it made Harry's heart hurt to realize—the fact that Snape's memories of Lily Evans were colored with the same desperate combination of admiration and desire that Harry himself felt for Ginny. The main difference there was that Snape had spoiled any chance he might have had with Lily. Harry—through luck and his girlfriend's apparently bottomless capacity to forgive—had managed to see things through to the other side.
"In any case," Harry said, finally, to his relatives and their minders, "it's over. You're all free to return." Four blank faces greeted his gaze. "You needn't stay here."
"Well," burbled Dedalus, "that's wonderful news about You-Know-Who's defeat, at any rate!"
"Here, here," agreed Hestia, who was frowning at Dudley.
"We… We can go home?" Petunia asked, though she did not look terribly excited at the prospect.
"Well," Kingsley said with a cough, "I'm afraid that the night the charm broke… The Death Eaters destroyed your house in Little Whinging."
"Oh," said Petunia, as if he had told her that a television program would be delayed because of a news bulletin. Harry was astonished that his relatives' house had been destroyed, but flabbergasted that his aunt barely seemed concerned.
"I have breakfast ready," Dedalus said, "or rather, Bunty has. She always makes too much, so I'm sure there's more than enough for the three of you—kippers, tomatoes, bubble-and-squeak, eggs, chipolatas—Bunty does make the most marvelous chipolatas. Everybody, do come in and let us continue our conversation over a lovely meal." He handed one of the still-steaming mugs in his hand to Harry's aunt, and the two of them turned and strode towards the house.
Hestia threw Dudley a t-shirt and followed the other two. Kingsley and Ginny were looking at Harry as if he understood what was going on, which he didn't. As Dudley pulled his shirt on, Harry asked, "Uh, Dudley?"
"Yeah, Harry?" The shirts sleeves stained to contain Dudley's arms.
There seemed to be so many things to ask. "Bunty? Who's Bunty?"
Dudley, who had been starting to follow his mother and the others, stopped in his tracks. "You…? You don't know Bunty?"
Harry gaped at Ginny and Kingsley, looking for some sort of help. They had none to give.
"She knows you!" Dudley chuckled. "Goes on about you all the bloody time. Your biggest bloody fan. C'mon," he added. "Dedders's not kidding, she puts out a great spread for breakfast. You don't want to miss it. Hell, just thinking about it, I'm starving." With another low chuckle, Dudley strode towards the house.
Harry looked back at Kingsley once again, but the Minister for Magic was looking rather sheepish. "Can you handle a side-along back to Devon, Harry?"
"Of course he can," Ginny piped in, her lips pursed in what Harry assumed was either disapproval or curiosity; he felt both.
"Banquets and parties every night for the past fortnight," said Kingsley, shrugging his large shoulders. "Mrs. Shacklebolt has me on a strict diet, and a second, full breakfast definitely isn't on the menu. Besides, I hadn't planned on staying, didn't think there'd be anything to do but deliver the message and send them on their way. I really do need to get back to the Ministry; we've got Thicknesse's trial this morning, and I can't be late for that."
"Of course not," Harry conceded. He might have felt more anxiety had Ginny not been there with him. He extended his hand. "Thanks for getting us here."
"My pleasure!" Kingsley answered, smiling broadly as his enormous fingers closed around Harry's. "Old Talionis Fairbanks is taking care of running Magical Law Enforcement at the moment. I'll have him get in touch, shall I?"
"Yeah!" Harry agreed, surprised at his own enthusiasm.
"And have the others owl him too!" Kingsley called. When they waved in acknowledgement, he grinned, leapt the gate, and disappeared.
Ginny took his hand, and Harry felt, once again, supremely, idiotically happy. "Head in for some kippers and sausages, shall we?"
"Sure," Harry said. "But first—"
They hadn't had an opportunity for a good snog since his first day back at the Burrow. They quickly remedied that situation, and then strode into the farmhouse hand in hand.
: :
Harry somehow ended up separated from Ginny at breakfast. He was seated between his cousin and aunt, while she sat across from him, between Dedalus and Hestia. Her foot, however, had managed to find his beneath the table. At least, he hoped it was Ginny's foot.
The table was piled high with food—enough, Harry thought, to feed most of Gryffindor and possible some of Hufflepuff. Dudley ate like a man who hadn't seen food in weeks; this wasn't a surprise, as he'd always had what Aunt Petunia had insisted on calling a healthy appetite. What shocked Harry, however, was the fact that his cousin seemed to eat the vegetables and fresh fruit with the same gusto as what Harry had to agree was the first-rate fry-up.
"So, Bunty cooked all of this?" Harry asked his aunt. It was odd to be sitting beside her during a meal; odd to have her pass him the tray of sausages or the tea.
"Yes," Aunt Petunia said, her face set in a kind of rapture that Harry had only ever seen when she had persuaded Uncle Vernon to buy a gleaming, self-cleaning oven for her kitchen when Harry was seven. "She's quite marvelous."
"Um, so is this her house?" Ginny asked, clearly seeing that Harry was confused.
"Her…?" Aunt Petunia's eyebrows shot up, making her face look even longer than normal.
"No, Harry," chuckled Dedalus, "this is your house. One of four, as I understand it, including the old Headquarters."
"Four?" Harry goggled. Across the table from him, Ginny shrugged, eyes wide.
"Well, there's this one, it was your grandparents' summer home; as everyone knows, there's the one in Godric's Hollow, though, sadly, that's obviously not… Well, then, of course there's the Blacks' old home on Grimmauld Place, and the cottage in Hogsmeade."
"Though that one's got a reputation for being haunted," said Hestia, neatly filleting a kipper with her wand.
"Haunted?" said Dudley, stopping his remarkable demonstration of food consumption for the first time since Harry and Ginny had sat.
"Well, it's only in the last quarter-century or so," Dedalus answered. "When I went to school with Carlus—your grandfather, Harry, you look so much like him, same knobby knees—he would take me there on Hogsmeade weekends and we'd visit his parents. Your great-grandmother, Harry, was a Prewett, and Miss Weasley here can tell you what wonderful bakers Prewetts are wont to be." He sighed happily. "Alas, when last I visited Hogsmeade, the house was quite shut up. As Hestia says, it had got a reputation as—"
"The most haunted house in Britain," Harry gasped. "The…" Again he looked at Ginny. Again she shrugged, though she was smiling now. "My family owned the Shrieking Shack?"
"Owns it still, as I understand it," said Hestia.
"Oi, Harry," snorted Dudley around a slice of orange, "must be rough knowing where to go to bed at night!"
"I didn't know," Harry said, and then turned to his aunt and repeated, "I didn't. Honest."
"No," said Petunia. Her face remained relaxed, but she seemed to be thinking something through.
"Ghosts, though," said Dudley with an exaggerated shudder.
"Nah," Harry said, his head swirling, "that was just a story Dumbledore put about so Lupin could have a place to hide during the full moon. My dad, they were friends, it must have been my dad's… Lupin's…. He was a werewolf." A wave of sorrow—never far away these days—began to wash over him; Ginny reached between a tray of chipolatas and a basket of bananas and squeezed his hand.
"Werewolf?" said Dudley.
"Remus?" gasped Dedalus and Petunia, together.
"You say 'was', Harry?" gasped Hestia.
"He died," Harry whispered. "In the last battle, at Hogwarts." Everyone at the table nodded. Harry and Ginny had given them a very quick summary of the events of the past year, but they hadn't spelled out the full cost of the war. "He and Tonks, both."
"Oh, damn." Hestia, whom Harry had never seen who any emotion aside from good humor and—once—rage, began to cry. "Oh. Poor… Is Andie all right? That must have hit her something awful."
"Yeah," Harry said. "I mean, she's okay. But yeah. She's raising Tonks and Remus's son, Teddy, my godson, he's great, and… I think she and her sister Narcissa have kind of patched things up a bit, which is nice."
"Never could stand Cissy," sighed Hestia. "Empty-headed bint. But life's too short, and family is family."
Inexplicably, Aunt Petunia patted Harry's hand—which was still covered by Ginny's—and smiled.
"Yeah." He shook his head. "So, um, this Bunty? Is she… a cousin of mine or something?"
Again, the Siren Farm inhabitants looked both amused and perplexed by his question.
"Harry," said Ginny, voice and face warm, "I think she's got to be a house-elf."
"Oh." Harry felt incredibly stupid. Of course, meals like the one before him, and a cook hidden away, serving the house… Then a cold weight settled on him. "Oh. Merlin. She belongs to me too, is that it?"
"Well," said Dedalus brightly, "she is bound to the house, and the house is yours, so yes, I suppose that she does!"
"Oh," Harry said. He didn't want another elf, another creature bound to him, for which he was responsible—
"Dobby wasn't your elf, Harry," Ginny said quietly from across the room. "He was your friend. That's what he told everyone who would listen."
"Yeah," Harry conceded. Knowing that Dobby had died by his own choice relieved Harry's sense of guilt in some ways, but deepened it in others. He took a deep breath and nodded. "Yeah. So, um… Bunty?" he called.
There was a crack, and a round head appeared immediately behind Ginny's shoulder. "Yes, M-master?" came a squeaky voice.
Harry stood and walked around the table. Bunty was short, even for an elf, and prodigiously plump; clearly where years alone had left Kreacher half mad, they had given Bunty a chance to sample her own wares. Harry had heard Ron joke that you should never trust a skinny cook; if so, Bunty clearly was to be trusted. Kneeling down so that they were the same height, Harry said, "It's, uh, nice to meet you."
"Oh!" Bunty cried, tears beginning to run along her wide nose. "Master Harry is already meeting Bunty, but Master Harry was only a baby when he is meeting Bunty, perhaps Master Harry does not remember—?"
"No, no," Harry said. Elves' emotional outbursts were no longer new to Harry, but they continued to overwhelm him. "I… I'm sorry that I haven't visited—"
"Oh!" cried Bunty again, "But Master Harry is here now! If Bunty had only known that Master Harry would be coming back to Siren Farm, Bunty would not have prepared such a poor breakfast for his welcome—!"
"It's wonderful," Harry blurted. "Wonderful meal, isn't it, everyone?"
All of the people at the table agreed loudly that it was.
"Master Harry is too kind to say so!" Bunty blubbered. "Oh, it has been so lovely these last ten months, serving guests and family of the Potters once again."
"And you have done very well, Bunty," said Aunt Petunia, with a great, happy show of noblesse oblige.
"Master Harry's aunt is very kind," Bunty sniffled. "Master Harry's aunt is always very kind to Bunty."
Harry looked from Petunia to the elf and back. "That's… good."
Petunia smiled that new-oven smile again, and Harry could see it: the one creature in the whole magical world of which his aunt would not disapprove, that would, in fact, make his aunt's every dream come true. A house-elf.
"Aunt Petunia, Dudley, I'm really sorry that your home… That the Death Eaters destroyed the house on Privet Drive looking for me."
Petunia frowned slightly; Dudley shrugged.
"Would you like to stay here?"
Now Petunia's face became radiant. "Oh, Harry. I… That would be lovely."
"Would that be all right, Bunty?"
The house-elf dissolved into tears, throwing her chubby arms around Harry's shoulders.
Harry patted her on the back, gently detaching her. "I'll take that as a yes. What about you, Big D?"
Dudley chewed on one chiseled cheek and looked at Hestia; for a moment, Harry was worried—Hestia Jones was not an unhandsome witch, by any stretch of the imagination, but she was easily twenty-five years Dudley's senior…
Hestia patted Harry's cousin on the shoulder in a manner that smacked more of comradeship than romance, and Harry felt relieved. "He's got something he wants to do," she said.
"Er," grunted Dudley awkwardly, shoulder muscles bunching under his shirt. "Yeah." He glanced at his mother, who nodded, misty-eyed as she often was around her son. "Gonna join the army," Dudley said at last.
"The army?"
Dudley nodded. "It's because of you, see?" When Harry shook his head, Dudley plowed on. "When we first got here, nothing to do, Hestia here started training me, just to keep me from going off my nut with boredom, you know? And so's I wouldn't be useless if it came to a fight. And we talked about you, and the Order, and how you lot were all risking your lives to help people, to save people, and I thought, right, here's the one thing I know I'm good at, only I want to do it for good reasons, you know, instead of…"
Instead of beating up ten-year-olds in the park, Harry thought. "Yeah."
"Couldn't join the Order, though, could you?" joked Hestia.
"Nah," answered Dudley with a smile. "Then after Dad… er. Yeah. Well, I was kind of angry, and nothing else to do but train and fight, and then those masked bastards showed up, and we showed them what for, me and Hessie, and I thought, right. Going to join the army when this is over. SAS eventually. If they'll have me."
Hestia grunted, "They'll have you."
"Wow," said Harry.
"Yeah," said Dudley.
"Oh, Dudley," gushed Aunt Petunia as she had done so often, "I'm so proud of you."
And for once, Harry could not disagree with her.
: :
When Ginny and Harry finally waddled out the front door, the inhabitants of Siren Farm—Harry's summer home—waved warmly in farewell. Aside from Dudley, none of them would be leaving any time soon. Dedalus's house too had been destroyed, though he seemed even less concerned than the Dursleys, and Hestia lived with her sister, Gwenog, who would be deep in training for the upcoming Quidditch season and would, Hestia said with a laugh, "be a right bint for the next two months."
"Thanks for coming," Harry said, squeezing Ginny's hand.
"Are you joking?" she laughed, "I got to meet the famous Dursleys—two of them, any way—see yet another of your houses, and talk to Gwenog Jones's sister!" Ginny and Hestia had talked about the Holyhead Harpies for a while, quite losing the Dursleys, though Harry and Dedalus tried to explain the ins and outs of Quidditch to them. Mostly, Harry watched Ginny, who seemed positively giddy once she realized that she was talking to her idol's sister; seeing her beaming left Harry feeling quite giddy himself.
As they hopped the fence—which was a lot harder for them than the much taller Kingsley—Harry asked, "So, um, do you think your parents would mind if we stopped off someplace on the way back?"
"Oh?" said Ginny with a grin that was more than a little wicked, "Going to show me yet another of your houses, are you?" When he didn't answer, but merely stood there, mouth open, she laughed. "Mum always promised to bring me to Godric's Hollow when I was little, to see the statue and the house. Somehow, she never did. And of course…" She stopped short, suddenly looking up at him more timidly than she had done in years.
"Of course?"
"Merlin, Harry, I'm sorry, I just thought…" She shook her head. "I mean, it wouldn't be the same for you. I'm sorry, never mind."
"No, what?"
"Well," she said, blushing, "there's a rose garden there, at the back of the house. It's supposed to be, you know, one of the most romantic spots in Britain."
Grinning, he kissed her, and was pleased when she abandoned her embarrassment and kissed him back. "That sounds great," Harry said. "Definitely. We can stop there second."
"I… I was thinking maybe we could drop in at Mrs. Tonks's and see Teddy. I haven't seen him this week. Do you think she'd mind?"
"'Course not," answered Ginny; her lips found his again, and he could feel them smile against his own. "Family's always welcome."
Family. "Okay," Harry said, taking her hand and turning.
: :
Fume (Epilogue Drabble)
As Harry made faces, Teddy giggled brightly.
Ginny didn't notice that Andromeda had sat beside her until the older woman whispered, "He'll make a good father some day."
"Don't," Ginny said.
"What?" Andromeda chuckled, "Too much like your mum?"
Ginny answered slowly, "That…."
"And?" Andromeda waited, her gaze palpable. "Don't try telling me you don't love him."
"Not that."
"A fool could see he loves you."
The boys laughed, oblivious. Teddy mirrored Harry's coloration; they laughed again.
"No." Ginny barely spoke. "Angry. Because he left. Because…"
"Ah. He knows?"
Harry looked up, grinning.
"You'll be fine," sighed Andromeda.
A/N: Thanks to my pre-beta, aberforths_rug, and my beta, Sherylyn. This fic is the fourth in a cycle of stories called The F Words; the first three were Friends, Fame, and The F Word.
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Film: The Artist
Released: 2011
Director: Michel Hazanavicius
Stars: Jean Dujardin, Bérénice Bejo, John Goodman, James Cromwell, Penelope Ann Miller, Missi Pyle, Malcolm McDowell
Hollywood, 1927: As silent movie star George Valentin wonders if the arrival of talking pictures will cause him to fade into oblivion, he sparks with Peppy Miller, a young dancer set for a big break.
What I thought of it:
In an incredibly bold move, Hazanavicius has eschewed the big-budget reboots, remkes and franchises to bring us something both fresh that harks back to the earlier days of cinema complete with intertitles. In looking at the difficulties of a silent movie star to adapt to performaing in "talkies", one realises that the modern filmstars will have had similar difficulties in protraying the exaggerated mannerisms of the silent movie era – something completely alien to today's more natural style of acting.
Dujardin and Bejo both pull off this feat magnificently. Dujardin looks like a cross between David Niven and Vincent Price, with the elegance of Fred Astaire and the charm of Clark Gable (all stars of the later era of film-making, but no less important in their oeuvre). Bejo's face perfectly encapsulates both the leading ladies of the silent era and the early talkies, with her "peppy" style truly living up to her character's name, Peppy Miller.
It's beautifully shot and the lack of sound other than the dramatic and theatrical score is wondrful. There is, however, one very clever scene that involves sound – George Valentin's dream sequence – that serves to juxtapose his dilemma and inability to make the transition from silence to sound.
I can see why this film has been sweeping the awards season this year, and it really does deserve the recognition for stepping away from the "safe" arena of the blockbuster and giving us something spectacularly different. It's not my favourite of the Oscar nominated films, but it's pretty close and I think this one will once again win the coveted Best Film, Best Director and Best Actor as it did so recently at the BAFTAS. I can also see it scooping Art Direction, Cinematography and Costume Design, but I think Bejo will miss out on the Best Actress statue as she suffers the same misfortune as Michelle Williams in being pitted against Streep in one of her best ever performances as Margaret Thatcher in The Iron Lady.
This is a must-see for fans of cinema and film history as well as for those who just enjoy seeing a really great film. It's a joy to see and it will surely be seen as a timeless masterpiece and a classic over time. It is a pity that more production companies don't take the risk and dare to be as different in their projects as this, because the results here are nothing short of stunning.
My hubby's review HERE.
I realise I have rated several Oscar-nominated films as 5/5 and this is very unusual for me, but they are all deserving of the highest rating I can give. There is very little in it and they all have the same rating, however here they are in order of my personal preference:
- Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close
- The Artist
- My Week with Marilyn
- The Iron Lady
Of course, this is only my personal preference and will most likely not be reflected in the choices of the judging panel of the Academy Awards, but I thought it was worth mentioning in case anyone wondered which films I enjoyed the most of those I had rated so highly.