It takes three epidemics.
Then Love comes along, plucky and persistent, and proceeds to drink all her scotch.
This was written as the most generous gift for me, and it is glorious.
This story is such a marvelous conception, the way it settles into the corners of canon and shows how Minerva's life unfolds, with the beautiful bittersweetness that Eldritcher manage to instill in all their stories.
Their inventive ideas about magic and how it interacts with characters' souls and lives are absolutely genius.
The idea of love for an ailing Abraxas as motivating Riddle's actions is genius, and so different from most of the conceptions we have of Voldemort. I adore that canon Dumbledore was so very wrong about his inability to understand love being his great handicap. The irony the author has given that stance here is absolutely delicious.
Same goes for Minerva's defining, unrequited love for Alastor.
And the idea of how Hogwarts Castle's magic and the Headmaster's work in symbiosis is absolutely canon in my head now -- so inventive and wonderful.
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