#I caught the last supper reference but that’s because of art school

[glassballdinosaurs]

Anyone else watch tadc and thought C&A stood for computing and analytics? No? Just me? I’ll see myself out

[secretradiobrooklyn]

SECRET RADIO | 9.26.20

Secret Radio | 9.26.20 |  Hear it here.

“We don’t know where you are but we’re glad you’re here”

Liner notes by Evan, except * means Paige

1. Ayalew Mesfin - “Hasabe (My Worries)”

This track comes to us via Marc Hawthorne in San Francisco and is some hot Ethiopian stomp. Marc has been turning me on to crucial music for years, but I feel like both of our palates have expanded in unexpected directions lately. I love how foreign and how relatable this song sounds at once — “hasabe” really does sound like a guy singing about his worries, which makes it feel like he’s speaking the same language. 

2. Witch - “Introduction”

Such a commandingly hip voice announcing the band and getting us all in the groove. Witch is Zambian rock in a pretty unhinged style — apparently WITCH stands for “We Intend To Create Havoc,” which if true is basically the greatest band name ever. 

3. Erkin Koray - “Cemelim”

Every time I hear this track I think of Jefferson Airplane’s foreboding sense of dark anticipation. The added frills of shifting into Turkish bent-note vocals takes it up another level. This track is from 1974 but carries the whole psychedelic ‘60s wave forward in an unbroken wave. As we mentioned, the video is worth checking out not just because the singer/guitarist is mesmerizing or because the bassist is inherently hilarious but because their outfits are legendary. Our thanks to Brian and Mona for the heads up.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F-k_Fr67bPQ

4. The Velvet Underground - “Coney Island Steeplechase”

“Lies and betrayals / fruit-covered nails” — naw, just kiddin, this song happens long before Pavement, or the Strokes for that matter. I never really understood what people meant when they said that the Strokes sound like VU, but listening to this song in headphones it kinda feels like the Julian Casablancas built an entire career off Lou’s vocal delivery on this song. And who could blame him? Lou wasn’t usin it anymore.

Hailu Mergia - “Sintayehu”

We got this record during the pandemic and it has been like a stress dissolver. There’s a tape that we got in Manhattan Kansas at a house show we played, a band called Casino Gardens, that I think of every time we hear this album. Not the same in particulars, but very much the same in spirit.

5. Divino Niño - “Melty Caramelo”

One of Sleepy Kitty’s first tours was with Divino Niño (thanks, Brandon!) just as they were assembling, and they have always been a band of fellows we enjoy as much as the music that they write. I did this set of dates with a broken bone in my swole-up, purple right hand, which I wouldn’t recommend to any drummers out there. I will say though that every single drummer in the bar that night told me that they had broken the same exact bone the same way. Not by drumming but by punching an inanimate object. 

6. Moodoïd - “Je suis la montagne”

I think this song is a benefit of Paige learning French for the last couple of years. Found it on a 3.5 hour French mix on Spotify.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xCuthCn8zxs

7. Sleepy Kitty - “Dreaming of Waterfalls” demo *

There are like, 7 people who have heard this song until now. This song came pretty mysteriously to me after a completely transformative trip to Kauaʻi for the wedding of ace folks and dear friends Stewart and Trenton. People who have gone to Hawaiʻi have always told me how amazing Hawaiʻi is and how it’ll change your life and it’s the best place in the entire world, and I was always like, “ok, sure whatever” until we went and now I am forever changed. I won’t get too into it here, but it’s all totally true and as amazing as they say. I can’t remember if this song was literally in the dream I had in San Diego the night we returned to the contiguous 48, or if it somehow emerged out of thinking of that dream, but it basically just appeared and I thought about it and thought about it and kept it in my head the whole plane ride back to St. Louis and recorded it pretty much immediately when we got back. I played 2 songs at our friends’ wedding on uke (where I was relieved to get approval from the Hawaiian family, ha ha) and it’s still a very unfamiliar instrument to me but it was the only answer for this song.

This is also one of a few recordings I made shortly before the first of 2 vocal surgeries around that time. It was kind of a stressful time musically; I was still figuring out what was going on, knowing something was wrong, getting hoarse all the time but not knowing what was going on yet.  Learning the songs for the wedding, and this song and this recording are positive memories in what was a very uncertain period in Sleepy Kitty life. I can definitely remember the challenges and limitations of that time, but it’s great to have this beautiful little moment that came out of that time too. When I hear this now, I like it and I’m glad to have it. It transports me back to that magical place and I’m thankful to Stewart and Trenton for having us there to celebrate with them.

8. The Fall - “Arms Control Poseur” (Bonus Version) (whatever that means)

“What do you fear?”

“Being found out.”

“The why do you always give yourself away?”

After initially being repulsed by The Fall, I eventually had what felt like essentially a religious experience after falling asleep listening to them on repeat in the tour bus — somehow their perverse aesthetic had become grafted into my DNA. I became an avid proselytizer for the band, with few takers, for years. Eventually I kind of gave up, baffled both by how intensely I felt their music and how immune everyone else apparently was to it. 

Cut to years later in an apartment on North Ave in Chicago, watching Paige bike up the street towards the window where I stood. She apologized as she walked her bike up the stairs. Sorry I’m late, she said, I just got caught up in the Fall. I don’t know how to explain it. You don’t understand, The Fall is not like other bands.

I literally thought that she was teasing me, and that I must have talked her ear off about the band at some point. But NO — she’d had the exact sort of conversion experience as me. In her case it was to “Extricate,” which was one of my very favorite albums, being the second one I personally owned. 

Still, this record’s aesthetic is completely dominant in my life. I couldn’t even guess how many times I’ve listened to it, and it still fascinates me every time.

“I quite very very much enjoyed 

his jovial lies

lying”

9. T.P. Orchestre Poly-Rythmo - “Wodeka Kpoe”

The day I found this track I was completely distracted by it. It’s so muscular and lean and intense. I love everything about the almost metallic drum sound, the dry vocals, the guitar telling its own narrative, the sharp little shaker going the whole time. It’s the closest thing to punk in Beninese music that I’ve heard. I read recently that this was on a 1983 Albarika Records comp LP (the person referred to the as “legendary,” but I don’t know to whom, or when), and when I looked it up a lot of other tracks that we love from the Soundway comp were there. But as far as I know, it’s not on any of those 21st century collections. So good!

10. Orchestre Abass - “Haka Dunia”

The cover of this 6-song burner shows a guy with a guitar behind a keyboard called TIGER 61, with his foot up on… what? the keys bench? There’s a single pedal on the floor that leads up into the keyboard. The sounds that come from that board though! This is a tone I think of as completely desirable. I guess this is also punk, this one from Togo. I mean, I have no idea what he/they think they’re doing, but to me it feels like it has all the stuff that I love in punk music.

Hailu Mergia

11. T.P. Orchestre de Cotonou Benin - “Moulon Devia”

I just realized this track can be found elsewhere, but I found it on a record credited to T.P. Orchestre Poly-Rythmo de Cotonou Benin, with a great photo of Yehouessi Leopold and Zoundegnon Papillon Bernard on the cover looking like the coolest dudes in the world cos they are. There are some great stereo panning effects, no doubt done live, on the horns at the beginning and the keys solo in the middle, which really enriches the headphone experience. This keys solo uses a suite of sounds that I absolutely love from them — and which are apparently the work of Papillon himself! I knew he was the guitarist who builds sand castles in the air of T.P. songs, but I only just realized that he’s also the guy throwing down those supper trippy Farfisa sounds! Holy smokes, that’s just ridiculous. He and Yehouessi are probably my favorite rhythm combo ever. PLUS they’ve got Bentho Gustave on bass, whose T.P. album was the first one we bought abroad. I mean, this track is so epic.

12. Patrick Juvet - “Où sont les femmes”*

I have a new awesome French teacher, who sends me cabaret songs to check out and says things like “I’m an old queen! What am I to do!” He played this song over Zoom for some live hold music while I was printing something for a recent lesson. I’m excited to hopefully hear more French music from him and also to hear more of his stories of discotheques in the 80s.

Evan adds: The video is well worth your attention as well, especially if you like red sequins glinting disco diamonds beneath deeply feathered hair. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zqc7mVZQNFo

13. Le Tigre - “Deceptacon”

This is one of the all-time top art school party songs as far as I know. And why the hell not? It’s pure Olympia, and all the hooks line up all the way down.

I video that someone made for school has essentially become the official video of the song because it’s totally awesome and fits like a pure expression of the song.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-SyBR-M2YvU

14. Themne Song Track 1  

I don’t know who performed this track or what it’s called — it’s just identified as “Themne Song Track 1,” Themne being the name of a tribe in Sierra Leone. I think it might be a “comedian story teller” called Miranda T Denkenneh, but can’t tell.

I’ve been into Janka Nabay and the Bubu Gang for a couple of years now. Nabay is a Sierra Leonan musician who came to NYC and put together a band of hip NY musicians who make this rhythmically complex yet somehow austere dance music that I find totally fascinating. Reading up on them, he was described as translating the music he came from into a more electric style. Well, it turns out that is indeed the case, based on this track from Sierra Leone. This sounds like Janka Nabay but warm and large where his music is focused and tight. I totally see both how damn danceable this Themne 

One of my favorite things about discovering this song is: the notes on the YouTube track are exclusively from ex-pats loving music from home and the old days, calling out their tribe and checking in from wherever they are. One guy, Ibrahim Noah Koroma, writes from Senegal:

tears fall down in my eyes when I listing dis song missing u SL 🇸🇱🇸🇱💪💪💪 I'm proud of my tribe temne 💯💪💪💪

15. The Sugarcubes - “Regina”

The setup of this song is such an angular, proggy spiky comic thing, definitely cool in its own way, but man, when it hits the chorus, it’s absolutely the most gorgeous thing. The lyrics are truly bizarre, and they’re making me appreciate how this band impacted Bjork’s later work. One thing I don’t understand: does she pronounce “Regina” with a hard G because that’s how that word is pronounced in Icelandic? Or is that just something she does?

16. Gétatchèw Mèkurya - “Ambassèl”

The more we learn about Ethiopian jazz and popular music before and after their political strife, the more there is to learn. In fact, one thing I learned about Mèkurya is that he played with Dutch socialist punks The Ex, a band I have admired for a couple of decades now, though mostly because I’m stuck on their album “Scrabbling at the Lock.” They apparently toured together in the aughties… and all of a sudden I can hear how their very different sounds actually relate very aptly. Man. That’s enough to fall in love with music all over again.

Also, one fact that must be acknowledged: Gétatchèw is maybe the best first name ever.

17. Jacques Dutronc - “Et moi, et moi, et moi”

I just dropped these lyrics into Google translate and it turns out he’s got a very identifiable brand of humor — wry, confident, diffident. He always makes me think of Dylan with his delivery.

18. Meas Samon - “Jol Dondeung Kone Key (Going to Get Engaged)”

So much feel! Those key dives just to open the song, man, I don’t even know. And the vocals are spilling over with character — it’s like watching a movie unfold. This is Cambodian, from the late sixties or early seventies. Every time it gets to the keys solos I think about how much I want Dave Grelle to hear this track, like, right now. It’s between this and Abass for sickest keys distortion to be found.

19. T.P. Orchestre - “Senamin” *

What is up with this song? We came across it and kind of set it aside, and then it was just in my head all. the. time. At first I wasn’t sure about the 1996 movie version “I’d Be Surprisingly Good For You” style sax (my LEAST favorite song in Evita) But, even so this song is so...majestic! And mysterious! The haunting melodies dancing around together at the end really got me.  

20. Hallelujah Chicken Run Band - “Alikilula”

The constant interaction of 3s and 4s in Chicken Run songs never fails to delight me. The shapes of the songs are almost like Guided By Voices tracks — one good idea perfectly expressed, and then they’re outta there. 

21. Antoine Dougbé - “Nou Akuenon Hwlin Me Sin Koussio”

If I could pick one album for all of my friends to spin a few times in a row… that would not be easy. But lately, that record would be “Legends of Benin,” the totally headspinning comp put out by Analog Africa. Every track is a deep insight into what rock music can be. In the liner notes, Samy Ben Redjeb takes the listener on a whole record-buying expedition through the southern coast of west Africa, describing where he picked up particular LPs, falling into conversations with some of the musicians, and generally providing insights both romantic and invaluable. (His notes on Dougbé are worth the price of admission.) In one note he mentions talking to a friend about how Africa doesn’t seem to deal well in reggae, and he considers “Nou Akuenon” one of the best attempts on the continent. It hadn’t occurred to me to think of this as reggae… and I still don’t hear it that way. But I like thinking of the band reaching for reggae and making this instead. 

22. Francoise Hardy - “Les temps de l’amour”

23. Ros Sereysothea - Chnam oun Dop-Pram Muy “I’m 16”

I love how fully developed these Cambodian songs are. They’re not aping a particular song or building replicas of songs in English or French: they’re working in pop music just like anyone else. The arrangements are so tight and well structured, and everybody is adding in more than their share on their instruments. Though Ros’s voice steals the show, the backing vocals on this song are especially good as well.

24. Aerovons - “Say Georgia”

Man, one of the pleasures of living in St. Louis was learning the story of The Aerovons, a group of high school kids who got flown across the Atlantic to record at Abbey Road with all of the same gear and technicians who were busy putting together records for The Beatles… only to have the album go unreleased for decades. It’s truly a reminder to appreciate the experience itself and not just the results. These guys experienced the absolute pinnacle of the studio recording dream — there is none higher — but that’s it. None of the fame or the attendant glory, just the knowledge of what they’d been able to do together.

“Texas Thunder Soul 1968-1974”

25. Ravi Shankar - Jazzmine - “Mishrank (Finale)”

The whole “Jazzmine” album is a mindblower, and it’s almost a shame to cut right to the finale of an album that builds its case song by song, illustrating the paths that Shankar’s raga and jazz take toward each other, from “Melodic Moods” to the amazing tabla solos of “Taalank” to “Deshank (Folk Patterns)” to crest with “Mishrank,” where Zep meets jazz club meets Somalian backroom in an Indian realm. Every solo brings a ton of new information about whose voices are adding to this total experience. And more than anything, it sounds like fun.

One thing I dig about this recording is that, as far as I can tell, more than one performance of this song is spliced together into this single track. That seems like a big no-no among jazz folks, but I really don’t mind it one bit — if anything, that helps me hear the song relative to more jarring experimental tape manipulation bands. 

[tombraiderfan900]

TRAOD: Louvre galleries V

These pictures are updated ones, that I first found in 2017. The page Louvre Galleries at my Tomb Raider art Encyclopendia is still under construction but will updated when each part of the level is revealed.  Because the level is so huge, I divided the level in parts.

Large room with the Mona Lisa - side 1

10.46 - Venus and Cupid with a Satyr

Painting made by Antionio Allegri da Corregio (1489-1534). It is called "Venus and Cupid with a Satyr" made in 1528. It is now in the Louvre.

It depicts Venus sleeping with her son Eros. Behind them, a satyr is caught while discovering the goddess. The picture is often also seen as portraying Jupiter and Antiope as, according to mythology and Ovid, Jupiter had turned himself into a satyr to rape the nymph (from wikipedia).

10.47 - Dream of Salomon 

Painting made by Luca Giordamo (1634-1705). It is called: "Dream of Salomon" made in 1594/1695. It is now in the Museo del Prado.

The story comes from the the books of kings in the Bible (1 Books of Kings 3:5-15). In it God appears in a dream before Solomon and promises Solomon anything he wants. Solomon only asks for wisdom, nothing more..

10.48 - The rape of Europa

Painting made by Titian (1488/1490-1576). It is called: "The Rape of Europa", made in 1560-1562. It is now at Isabella Steward Gardner Museum in Boston.

The title of the painting refers to the mythological story of the abduction of Europa by Zeus (Jupiter to the Romans),[1] Titian is unequivocal about the fact that this is a scene of rape (abduction): Europa is sprawled helplessly on her back, her clothes in disarray.[2] In the myth, the god assumed the form of a bull and enticed Europa to climb onto his back. Once there, the bull rode into the sea and carried her to Crete, where he revealed his real identity. Europa became the first Queen of Crete, and had three children with Zeus. The painting depicts Europa on the back of the bull, just off the shore of her homeland.

10.49 - Jupiter and Anthiope

Another painting by Titian. It is called: "Jupiter and Anthiope (Pardo Venus)" and made in 1540-1542.

They are based on the story of the seduction of Antiope by the god Zeus in Greek mythology, later imported into Roman mythology and told of the god Jupiter. According to this myth, Antiope, the beautiful daughter of King Nycteus of Thebes, was surprised and seduced by Zeus in the form of a satyr. She became pregnant and bore the twins Amphion and Zethus, who later killed Nycteus' brother Lycus in revenge for his treatment of Antiope and took over the city of Thebes.

10.50 - Mona Peta

It is well known under the AOD fans. It depict the Mona Lisa by Leonardo Da Vinci made in 1503/1506-1517. The face was edited with that from Peter Connelly, one of the developers of the game. I count this as an easter egg.

It is considered an archetypal masterpiece of the Italian Renaissance, and has been described as "the best known, the most visited, the most written about, the most sung about, the most parodied work of art in the world...The painting is likely of the Italian noblewoman Lisa Gherardini, the wife of Francesco del Giocondo, and is in oil on a white Lombardy poplar panel...

10.51 - The last Supper

Painting by Leonardo da Vinci. It is called: "The last supper" made in 1494. It original isn't a painting but a wall painting, it is at the convent of Santa Maria della Grazie in Milan.

The Last Supper portrays the reaction given by each apostle when Jesus said one of them would betray him. All twelve apostles have different reactions to the news, with various degrees of anger and shock.

10.52 - The school of Athens

Painting made by Raphael or Raffaello Sanzio da Urbino (1483-1520). It is called: "The School of Athens" made in 1509. Like the Last Supper it is a wall painting. in the Apostolic Palace in Vatican City.

The School of Athens is one of a group of four main frescoes on the walls of the Stanza (those on either side centrally interrupted by windows) that depict distinct branches of knowledge...The subject of the "School" is actually "Philosophy," or at least ancient Greek philosophy, and its overhead tondo-label, "Causarum Cognitio", tells us what kind, as it appears to echo Aristotle's emphasis on wisdom as knowing why, hence knowing the causes, in Metaphysics Book I and Physics Book II. Indeed, Plato and Aristotle appear to be the central figures in the scene.

10.53 -  The immaculate conception

Painting made by Giovanni Battista Tieplo (1696-1770). It is called: "The Immaclate Conception" and made in 1767/1768.

It represents the Immaculate Conception, a tradition of the Catholic Church stating that the Virgin Mary was conceived without original sin

[sending-the-message]

I've Had it With the Serial Killer Known as the Skin Stealer. by theproliar

I’m Spencer Cottonwood, Medical Examiner and I’ve had it with the serial killer known as the Skin Stealer. No. Really. I’ve had it. I used to have a really good life but this skin-removing asshole is ruining it.

After working years in a very busy Coroner’s office in New York, I moved back to the small town I grew up in to enjoy life. I have a small general practice during the day and at night I’m the medical examiner. There’s no one else to do it. It’s a really small town and being medical examiner adds to my salary but not to my hours worked because nothing bad ever happens. Scratch that. Nothing bad used to happen.

Now, the unspeakable is common place. People are found with their skins removed in one solid piece and the skinless corpses used to recreate famous works of art. You didn’t read that wrong. He gets the skin off in one solid piece. What a fucking jerk.

While I have to admit, the old lady with her skin removed and seemingly shocked at finding her epidermis stapled to the wall recreating Munch’s “The Scream” was hard not to chuckle at, I found his recreation of The Last Supper with alternating skinless corpses and their skins stuffed with crumpled pages of the bibles a little heavy handed.

But the real reason I hate the Skin Stealer is because I’m the guy who has to figure out which skin goes with which corpse and then try to put it back on. Do you have any idea what kind of labor this entails. It’s a giant pain in the ass, and one time I got the skin back on a corpse only to realize IT WAS THE WRONG CORPSE.

Sure, Skin Stealer you must have a great deal of skill to remove a human’s skin in one solid piece, but let’s see you try to put one back on. It’s harder and more time consuming.

At the rate the Skin Stealer strikes I’m getting pretty good at it, but it’s consuming my entire life. I’m literally getting No Sleep.

Normally, I wouldn’t even care. I would just mentally prepare myself to get very little sleep for the coming months because I’ll be taking apart corpse art and figuring out which skin goes on which body until the psycho is caught, but right now is a really bad time for me. No, that’s not right. Right now is a really great time for me and the Skin Stealer is ruining it.

I’ve just started dating, Penelope, a woman I have literally been in love with since middle school. When I moved back we reconnected and she liked the person that I had became. It looked like we were about to move into together and then Mr. Skin Stealer had to started peeling people like they were fucking oranges.

Now, I never get to see her, and, in the rare occasion that I do, I’m an exhausted mess.

It gets worse.

Just yesterday, after a long night of playing get the bloody corpse back in its skin, I stopped by the local coffee shop (there’s only the one) to get some badly needed caffeine.

Joe, the owner, asked, “Another long night?”

I nodded.

Joe said, “I noticed bunch of cop cars by the ballet studio.”

I said, “Yeah, this time that asshole recreated a Degas.” The reference went right over Joe’s head so I added, “Degas had a thing for painting ballerinas.”

Joe said, “So, skinless corpse doing ballet?”

I said, “Skinless corpse in a tutu. The skin set up with easel and paint as if the skin was Degas.”

Joe shook his head and said, “Well, I know it’s horrible but as least he doesn't kill people from here.”

I was about to tell Joe that doesn’t make it any easier to put their skin back on, but someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned and though I hadn’t seen his face in years and that face was now covered in a beard, I recognized Brad right away, Perfect Brad.

Brad said, “Spence! Oh my god. It is you. You look-“

“Utterly exhausted?”

“No,” he said, “Like you’ve done great for yourself. I always knew you would.”

Brad smiled at me like he was genuinely happy to see I had done well, and I somehow contained a powerful urge not to punch him in his perfect fucking teeth.

I wish I could say Brad was my high school bully, that he tormented me, but that wouldn’t be true. Brad’s always looked out of me. When other people shunned me in high school, he was always there to put a hand on my shoulder and offer an encouraging word. “Don’t worry, Spence. You’re just a diamond in the rough.”

God, I fucking hated him. Hated him for his athleticism, for his kindness, for his happiness, but most of all I hated him because he had what I had so desperately wanted for myself, Penelope. Brad and Penelope dated from middle school until the middle of college when they split amicably.

“Brad,” I said, “When did you…I wasn’t expecting to run into you. What have you been up to?”

“I just got back from Africa, my company builds wells.”

“Oil?”

“No. Water. My company’s a non-profit that provided clean water to-“

I couldn’t bear it anymore. I pretended my phone buzzed and looked at it as I said, “Oh, it’s an emergency have to go.”

I started to walk away and he yelled out, “Let’s catch up when you have time.”

I waved without looking back. That’s when I saw Penelope step into to the cafe. Just at the sight of her, I felt my exhaustion wash away and I was excited to see her, but then I realized she didn’t even notice me. She was staring at Brad.

She finally noticed me when I was about a foot away. She said, “Oh, Hey. “

I said, “Hey, I have to get to the office.”

P said, “You need to get some rest. Cut hours short if you can. I’ll bring you some food later.”

She made a point of kissing me on my way out.

That’s good, right?

Either way, now is not the time for some serial killer to be taking up all my time. PERFECT BRAD, Brad who builds wells in African villages with his large biceps is in town. Now is definitely not the time for your bullshit Skin Stealer. This shit has to stop but how is it going to?

No offense to local law enforcement, but these guys aren’t up to the task. I think catching fish is more of their thing. To paint a clearer picture it’s as if Hannibal Lector was up against Roscoe and Enos from the Dukes of Hazard, not exactly a fair match. Hell, they didn’t even realize the Skin Stealer was recreating works of art until I pointed it out.

Oh My God. It just hit me. If my life is ever going to go back to normal. If I’m ever going to make Penelope happy and keep her from going to Africa to build wells with Brad, there’s only one thing I can do. I have to catch the Skin Stealer.

Wish me luck, and, if you have any information about the identity of the Skin Stealer, please comment below.

[writingkiwi-blog]

Prologue

September 1972, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

"Arresto momendum," Blanche whispered into the collar of her gown, eyeing Peter Pettigrew with a devious grin. He sat a table down with his fellow friends—a quartet who began recently titling themselves as the 'Marauders.' Peter dipped his spoon into the bowl of cock-a-leekie soup before him. As he tried bringing the spoon to his mouth, he found his hand slowed to an achingly slow pace. Blanche watched slyly as his face contorted slowly.

"What are you doing, Peter?" Blanche heard James Potters' voice sound from her side of the table.

"I.. don't… know," he replied at a glacial pace, gradually squeezing out each consonant and vowel. Blanche watched as Remus Lupin broke into laughter beside Peter.

"Wingardium Leviosa," Blanche whispered in her collar again, looking directly at the spoon. Peter's slow actions couldn't catch the spoon as it left his hand. He reached up for it, but moved so slowly his hand wasn't even in the air before the spoon was nearly nine feet in the air.

"Silencio," she finished in her collar, watching as Peter opened his mouth and tried to create words but failed.

"Bit tongue-tied, are we?" Blanche heard Sirius Black mock from his spot beside James.

As Apollyon Pringle walked to their row of tables, watching the magical enchantments go down, Blanche waited carefully until he identified her as the caster. He walked toward her quickly with a bitter look on his face until he was within ten meters of her. In her collar, she whispered: "Confundo," and watched as confusion drew across his wrinkled features. By the time he stood beside Blanche, he simply shook the jumbled thoughts from his head and walked on. Her final spell had revealed to the Marauders that she was the culprit, but that was all a part of her plan.

Blanche picked up the textbook she had been reading during supper, A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration, and exited the hall—intentionally passing and halting in front of the table at which the Marauders sat.

She looked at Peter with sharp eyes. "The next time you think to call a witch more skilled than yourself a 'kiss-arse' in front of an entire class, I recommend you rethink your decision—or else you might, once again, find yourself in a predicament such as this," she hissed. "Am I clear?"

Peter opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Blanche grinned. "I'll take that as a yes."

She continued out of the Great Hall. She could hear the non-charmed Marauders laughing boisterously as she left, and a grin framed her face.

From the table between the Marauders and that at which Blanche had sat, Lily Evans watched the black-haired girl leave the hall. Lily swore she could feel a string of ice following her trail. She hadn't ever spoken to the girl, who mostly kept to herself. But she now had a sudden urge to befriend the witch who could so readily make fools out of bullies. She recalled her name was Blanche—a name which so starkly contrasted her dark features and the inky shadow she left in her path.

In Potions, Blanche usually sat by herself at the front of the class. By no means was she a 'kiss-arse' as Peter Pettigrew had claims, she just genuinely liked and excelled in Potions. It wasn't her fault Professor Slughorn doted on her, it was only an unintended result.

Today, however, a girl with vivid red hair and green eyes from Blanche's house plopped down in the seat beside her.

"Hello Blanche," she greeted with a friendly grin. Blanche looked at her with a cold interest, as she often regarded most things. Lily had noticed that Blanche was not particularly amiable, but she was determined to squeeze a friendship out of her.

"Lily," she nodded. Lily thought it was odd how only a girl of twelve could maintain such a distant disposition, but she genuinely believed she could crack through it. She knew she could when she saw Blanche's eyes from a closer range than ever before—they were the purest shade of cornflower blue. There was nothing cold in those eyes.

"Do you mind if I sit next to you?" Lily asked.

"Not at all," Blanche shrugged. Lily looked across the room to Severus who was now sitting alone—she mouthed 'sorry' to him and his lips thinned into a straight line.

"I really admired what you did last night at supper," Lily complimented. "I try to stick up to bullies, too."

Blanche sent her a fragmented smile, like she was unfamiliar to Lily's genuine kindness. "That Peter's an idiot," Blanche said and shrugged.

In the opposite corner of the room—the back left corner—Peter tilted his head and muttered under his breath to Sirius: "Looks like the two class pets have decided to share a cage."

"Careful now, Peter. If she hears you making fun of you again, she might just turn you into a rat," Sirius replied with a grin.

"Yeah," Peter scoffed. "Over my dead body."

"For some reason, I don't believe she'd have a problem with that," Sirius responded cleverly.

Together, Lily and Blanche brewed an exemplary Hate Potion. Professor Slughorn allowed the girls to take a vial for themselves, on the terms that they only use it for 'playful purposes.' Severus was the only other student to make a perfect potion, and he was also permitted a vial.

As Professor Slughorn dismissed the class, Lily and Blanche left the room together. They both laughed at the steam which had frizzed their hair and planned on whom they would use their potions. As they walked down the hall and into the courtyard, Severus Snape stood by the partition between the courtyard and the hallways surrounding it. Lily departed from Blanche with a cordial farewell and followed Severus back down the halls. Severus sent Blanche a glare before his leave with Lily—it was a very cold glare, riddled with black ice.

Blanche entered the courtyard and was glad to see a that pale frost had not yet glazed over the grass. It was warm and large enough for everyone to occupy in time between classes; Blanche preferred quiet spaces and isolation, but the spot beneath the hazel tree was shaded, inviting, and open.

Blanche retrievedher copy of Jinxes for the Jinxed and opened it on her lap. She resumed reading about the Melofors Jinx, but the slender streams of sunshine hitting the parchment pages were soon impeded by a figure that engulfed the entire book in shadow. Blanche looked up and saw Sirius Black standing before her. He was tall for a twelve year old boy, but rangy and even a bit shrimpy. His eyes and hair were dark, and he surely would have been daunting if it had not been for the prepubescent weight that still clung to his cheeks and jaw. He was not an unattractive fellow, but he was still deep within boyhood.

"That was Marauder behavior, you know," he commented vaguely, but Blanche quickly picked up on his reference.

"Only playful retribution," Blanche shrugged.

"What are you reading?"

"Jinxes for the Jinxed," she answered. "I'm picking something special for Peter."

Sirius laughed, walking forward to look at the book from upside down. "Encases head in pumpkin," he read. "Sounds perfect for him."

"I thought he was your friend?" Blanche asked him.

"Gives me all the more reason to torment him," Sirius smiled deviously. He sat beside Blanche and looked at what else the book had to offer.

September 1974, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Blanche was walking leisurely to her Defense Against the Dark Arts class when Severus Snape crossed her path in an uncharacteristically disorganized run. She soon identified its reason as James Potter and Sirius were hot on his trail, shouting "Snivellus" after him. Peter Pettigrew followed behind with his heavier set stature and missed Blanche's glare when he passed.

She followed them out into the courtyard and watched as Sirius cast the stickfast hex on Severus. Blanche raised her wand and exclaimed, "Finite Incantatum."

Severus immediately unstuck from the ground and ran.

"Now why do you have to go and spoil all the fun, Blanche?" Sirius sighed, turning toward her as he recognized her voice.

"Because she's sadistic," Peter sighed hopelessly. "Because she derives pleasure from our sorrow."

"Says the boy laughing whilst he mercilessly taunted a boy who did nothing to him," she retorted. "Don't make me cast the Jelly-Fingers Curse on your again."

Peter's ratlike face contorted in fear and he stepped back, standing into Sirius' long shadow. Sirius was now something to hide behind as he had grown taller and broader from when they'd first became friends in their second year; manhood now seemed to be someplace on the horizon, but at fourteen his chin was still smooth as silk and his cheeks full with youth.

"You couldn't pick up a spoon, fork, or knife for two days," Sirius bent over laughing at the curse Blanche had casted upon Peter last year. The two had never made amends after the Soup Scandal from second year. "I thought you'd starve."

"Sirius, let's go to Defense Against the Dark Arts," Blanche tilted her head down the hallway.

"Right, forgot about that," he reached for the books he had thrown on the ground once he reached the courtyard.

"See you later Prongs, Wormtail," he tilted his head in farewell.

"Go on Sirius—keep following her! Maybe one day she'll shag you!" James cried dramatically after Sirius. Sirius turned instantly and smacked James hard on the arm with the flat of his textbook.

"Christ! Don't get your panties in a knot!" James cried dramatically in return. Sirius ran back into the hall and caught up with Blanche, who was already on her way.

"I've this idea for Charms, Sirius," Blanche laughed once she saw his figure had caught up. "Wait, we're in class together for that, right?"

"Yeah, we have it together," he nodded.

"Perfect. Have you heard of the Caroling Jinx?" She asked him.

"Isn't that the one that forces people to sing?" He clarified.

"Yes," she nodded. "So I was thinking throughout the entire first class we cast the jinx on random students every time Flitwick tries to speak. Do you think you can do it without a wand?" She asked. Blanche was exceptionally talented at wandless magic, and it was no trouble for her; Sirius was an profound and skilled wizard, but she was unsure of his wandless ability. It was rare for anyone below sixth year to be even adequately skilled at wandless magic

"It hurts that you doubt my ability," he said with feigned sentimentality. He held a hand over his heart in dramatic ache.

"Shut up," she shook her head.

Through Defense Against the Dark Arts, Sirius and Blanche scribbled down sample songs for their prank. They decided on a Christmas song, but fought over which. They were called out by the ever-changing Dark Arts professor, now an unfamiliar Professor Bucklebee whilst they kicked one another's legs under the desk.

"Miss Lestrange and Mister Black!" Professor Bucklebee shouted from the dais in the front of the classroom.

"Yes… Professor Bumblebee?" Sirius answered. The class snickered at his response.

"I will have order in my classroom, do you understand me?" Bucklebee snapped.

"Your classroom? Or Professor Jecklin's classroom? Or Professor Lunny's? Or Professor Prewett's?" Sirius asked mockingly.

"Sit down, Mister Black," Bucklebee commanded. "That's one week of detentions for you and Miss Lestrange. If you want another week's worth, keep it up."

"She didn't do anything, Professor Bumblebee," Sirius insisted.

"For every time you speak up, you get another week. This is your last chance, Mister Black. Are you sure you want to keep this up?" Bucklebee questioned sharply.

Sirius cleared his throat and sat down. Bucklebee turned around, opening his mouth to continue. Sirius, however, interrupted.

"Salvio hexia, Professor," he announced from his seat.

"That's another week, Mister Black!"

"You asked for the counter-spell that deflected hexes from the area," Sirius clarified. "That's the answer."

Bucklebee paused, analyzing the situation. Blanche grinned beside Sirius and nudged her knee with his, congratulating him on his effective embarrassment of the new teacher. Bucklebee cleared his throat and announced as he turned toward the board: "Twenty points from Gryffindor!"

"Shitehead," Sirius muttered under his breath.

In spite of the detentions Sirius and Blanche had already received, they figured they shouldn't let their Caroling Jinx prank go to waste. It went off successfully, and Professor Flitwick had even found it quite amusing. The laughter of their first Charms class of Fourth Year washed off, however, by the time the following morning arrived. The two were scraping off gum from the underside of the desks in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.

"Fuck the Dark Arts," Sirius grumbled. "And fuck Professor Bumblebee."

"Bucklebee," Blanche corrected as a hunk of viridian gum fell into her pale.

"This is unfair," he whined.

"Stop pouting. You mouthed off to a professor. What did you expect, a sugar quill and a kiss?"

"It's unfair that you have detention, is what I meant," he cleared up. "He should have given me two weeks and you none."

"Do yourself a favor and don't play self-sacrificing gentleman with me. Nobody knows better than I that you don't mean it," she retorted.

"I do!"

"No, you're an arrogant prick who'd do anything to save his own arse," she muttered.

"Pardon me?!" Sirius exclaimed.

Blanche grinned at him from beneath the table and then looked back up, bringing her scraper to the dark underside of the wood. She felt a dense wad hit her temple just before she started working at another. She gasped and looked at her lap to where the weapon had dropped. It was a gigantic, ancient piece of thick taffy the color of rust. "Prick!" She cried, reaching for a handful from her bucket. She didn't seem to care what she put her hand into; she only knew that she wanted to throw his weapon of choice right back in his face.

Several mounds of old gum hit Sirius in the face and he screamed before reaching for another handful. Before either of them knew it, all the progress they had made was flying across the room. When both of them reached the ends of their buckets, Blanche threw it soaring across the room. It missed Sirius by an inch and shattered a vial that sat on a cupboard behind him. The two instantly broke into fits of rampant laughter.

"I can see you two've made progress," a familiar voice sighed from the entrance of the room. Lily Evans, dressed in her freshly-ironed gown and newly-shined shoes, looked at the mess they'd made with not a glimmer of surprise in her eyes.

"Oh, not Lady Snape," Sirius cursed whilst catching his breath.

"Shut up, Sirius. She's actually here per my request," Blanche walked over to her. "Albeit, a little late."

"I had to finish my Muggle Studies essay, Blanche. It was due tonight. You know that," Lily pled goodheartedly.

"Well, why's it here?" Sirius asked disdainfully. Somehow Blanche's two best friends had never met in the middle: Sirius thought Lily was an insipid goody-too-shoes, and Lily thought Sirius a pompous evildoer.

"Shut up, Sirius," Blanche silenced him. "She is here because Professor Bucklebee said we can't use magic to clean the desks."

Sirius waited for her to finish, but she left him to figure it out. When he clearly was at a loss, she completed her plan: "But he never said Lily couldn't."

"She's going to violate the rules?" Sirius laughed doubtfully, but Lily slid her wand out of her sleeve and began magically lifting the gum they had scattered and putting it back in the bucket.

"I'm actually not, seeing he never said I couldn't help," Lily smiled good-naturedly. It had taken Blanche a while to warm to Lily, but she eventually realized that there was nothing but goodness in this lovely, fire-haired girl. It was refreshing being around someone who would give everything she had just to make the world a better place.

Lily charmed both of the scrapers Blanche and Sirius held and they began to work at the gum magically, scraping at a much faster pace than did Blanche and Sirius.

"And it's not my fault he was fool enough not to watch your detention through," Lily smiled.

"New professors," Blanche sighed.

September 1975, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

There was a hill in the open space near the gamekeeper hut where the water toucher the sand softly; this was the only place on the grounds of Hogwarts where land did not drop steeply into the lake. It was not like the courtyards—it was clear and never crowded. On the hill was a yew tree, upon which Severus would read the textbook chapters before they were even assigned. Here was a peaceful place—a place free from the taunting of the Marauders and James Potter's constant gibes.

But today that peace did not linger as he saw crowds of kids from his year walking toward his sacred tree—all with Potter leading the pack.

"Come on Moony, Padfoot," James called as he withdrew his wand. Severus held his with a shaking hand, but he was too slow. "Expelliarmus!" The wand flew from Severus' weak grip.

"Nice one, James!" Peter Pettigrew called from the back.

"Impedimenta!" James shouted, freezing Severus' movements and lifting him into the air with the tip of his wand.

The crowd chanted 'Snivellus, Greasy' over and over again like a pack of wild followers. In the distance, Severus saw the flaming red hair of Lily Evans as she rushed forward. She was followed by the dark girl, Blanche, who looked lost to whose side she'd take.

"Alright—who wants to see me take of Snivelly's trousers?!" James called to the crowd and they hooted in support.

"Potter, put him down this instant!" Lily ran up to him and pushed him away, but James held his wand securely.

"Get out of here, Evans," James spoke sternly.

"Sirius, make James put him down," Blanche scowled severely at Sirius. He wavered for a minute at her order, but then ignored her. "You're as craven as him, you fool."

Blanche walked away from Sirius stiffly and pulled out her wand in an attempt to break James' charm.

"Not until you let him be! Can't you see he's helpless!" Lily cried. At that humiliation and grand vulnerability, Severus snapped.

"Liberacorpus," Blanche cast, dropping Severus to the ground and effectively breaking James' charm. Lily ran to Severus' crumpled body on the ground, but the embarrassment still pumped through his heart like fire and the sounds of the belittling chants still rang in his ear.

Severus flung himself as far from Lily and Blanche as his injured body would. "I didn't ask for your help, you blood traitor!" He shouted to Blanche. She instantly paled—even paler than she naturally was—and then he turned to Lily. "And I don't need anything from you anymore, you filthy mudblood!"

Severus pulled himself from the ground and dragged himself off, casting away everything but the blood that pumped through his cried in Blanche's arms in the Gryffindor Common Room that night. Blanche was not accustomed to tears staining her nightgown; her family was a cold one, and hugs were not found easily in their manor. Blanche had trouble sympathizing with Lily, as she had never seen a reason for friendship in Severus. Then again, Lily had never seen reason friendship in Sirius, and Blanche, too, felt like she would have trouble forgiving him for what he'd done.

"Perhaps he'll apologize, Lily," Blanche offered, but Lily immediately shook her head.

"I can't forgive him for it. He's said it, and now I know it's always been there all along in his head. I'm tired of finding excuses for this darkness inside of him. Olympia, Holly, and Kyra don't even understand why I talk to him," Lily cried. Blanche had trouble not rolling her eyes at that last bit. Their friendship really was of odd character—Blanche loathed all of Lily's other friends and Lily loathed all of Blanche's other friends. "And what about what he called you—a blood traitor? Is that how he sees people? Is everyone just some fraction of mud and magic?"

"You and I both know what Severus is. He's chosen his path, and we know what path that is," Blanche spoke darkly, thinking of the dark arts that had not only taken her family, but now Lily's family too. "But you should hear the decision come from his mouth."

Lily looked up at Blanche with tear-filled, grass green eyes. "You're right," she sniffed. "But he'll have to come to me first. Though either way—I cannot forgive him."

Blanche then realized this was Lily's first break into realisti humanity. If Severus wanted back their friendship, Lily would not give it—no matter how unhappy it made Severus. Lily would not sacrifice her self-respect to make him happy. Lily's sunlight was what drew Blanche in all along, but this break in her porcelain façade was like the break in a dam. Dark waters came rushing forth, and Blanche finally felt like she might have a real sister.

In Arithmancy, Blanche didn't sit with Sirius. Blanche knew what a blow to him this was seeing she was the only reason he took the elective—she'd begged him the entire summer between forth and fifth year to take it with her. Halfway through the class, Blanche looked across the room through the corner of her eyes and saw Sirius face down on the desk, sleeping.

As much as Blanche loved Arithmancy, she couldn't focus on the reading from Numerological Theory. Every time Sirius snored lightly, she laughed to herself and looked across the room. The Professor of Arithmancy was nearing Dumbledore's age and was as deaf as a post, and as he sat at the front of the room grading their latest exams, he had no idea Sirius was off in dreamland.

Sirius finally woke at the sensation of a Ravenclaw boy throwing a pencil at him. Blanche watched Sirius instantly look to the seat beside him to ask her how long he'd been out, but then his face fell when he realized she wasn't there.

Grumbling, Sirius stood and walked over to the table she sat at alone. He took the seat beside her and watched her closely as she lowered her face to her textbook.

"You've at least got to amuse me. I wouldn't be taking this class if I knew it would be me sitting alone for an hour twice a week," he stated flatly.

"I don't know, you looked pretty peaceful over there," she shrugged, looking at him. With sleep fresh on his face, the youth that had been fading from his face of late sprung anew. Nowadays he shaved just a few barely-there patches of hair on his chin and upper lip and the line of his jaw was coming in; but in that moment of tiredness, he was thirteen again.

Sirius looked at his lap and a stream of dark curls fell over his face. "I'm sorry about Severus. I should have listened to you."

"You didn't, though," she responded in a blank voice, drawing her eyes back over the textbook.

"We were just messing around—"

"Don't make yourself the victim," she silenced him. "I want you to apologize to him. And if James ever wants a date with Lily, I'd recommend he accompany you."

Sirius' brow furrowed at the mention of his friends very recent obsession with Lily Evans. "How did you know?"

"Ever since under the yew tree, I just knew," she shrugged. "Men aren't particularly clever. You can see it in their eyes."

Sirius grinned, looking over at her with wide eyes as grey as clouds looming over lightning. "What do you see in mine?"

"A coward," she answered. He balled his hand in a fist and hit the desk loudly in anger. The goofy look dropped from his face when he refocused his close stare.

"If I do this, will you forgive me?" He asked.

"Yes," she responded. Sirius stood and just began to walk right out of the classroom. Before he was far enough from him, she lunged for his hand and tugged him backward. He looked at her in confusion, but her face was purely devoid of emotion. "I want his forgiveness of you, but make sure he knows he shouldn't expect mine or Lily's forgiveness."

Sirius nodded stoically. If there was one thing in their minds that was equally clear, it was that the term 'blood traitor' was not a word to be used lightly. Both coming from families who valued the pure-blood agenda, they did not take being called a blood traitor kindly. After their acquaintance was nurtured into friendship over second and third year, the final bridge that made him and her best friends was what sat behind both of their last names: hatred, prejudice, and egotism. Both Blanche and Sirius were black sheep in their families for their tolerance, and over that they clung to one another.

Sirius continued out of the room with stiff shoulders. The professor never noticed that he had left—to no surprise.

Blanche unfolded the letter her snowy owl, Sulwen, had delivered in the Owlery. She nearly groaned in exasperation when she saw it was from her mother. She instantly grew irritated at how immaculately measured the creases of the letter were and how frustratingly automatic her mother's script was. It was quite funny; amongst friends and classmates alike, she was known as the structured, unwelcoming one. If only they knew her mother.

Blanche,

I hope the first few months of your last year at Hogwarts have been constructive; your father and I are very proud of your academic success. I am thrilled to tell you that your Uncle Rodolphus has become engaged to a charming woman by the name of Bellatrix Black, who is most wonderful and talented. She is the cousin of your friend Sirius. I am, in fact, writing to you about this boy. Rodophus has told me that his fiancée's cousin is a blood traitor. As Bellatrix's aunt, Walburga, has confirmed this, your father and I have decided you shall no longer be associated with this rapscallion. His familiarity with you reflects poorly on your father to the Dark Lord and dishonors us as a family. I am confused to why you affiliate with his kind; your father and I raised you the True way, and I believed you had better judgement than this. I was speaking to Walburga further of her incorrigible eldest son, and she tells me he associates himself with mudbloods. This is unacceptable behavior and I request it stop at once.

Bellatrix's and Rodolphus' wedding will be held just after your return from Hogwarts. When I see you then, I expect your deviant behavior to be rectified.

Best regards,

Lavinia Greengrass Lestrange

"Short and sweet," Blanche mumbled to herself as she crumbled the letter in her hands. Her fingers wrapped around it set it afire, and before the flames licked her skin she tossed the sooty remains on the ground and stomped on it.