#Escaping death by [...] deputy headmistress

[ramblings-of-a-mad-cat]

The Snake Who Lived and The Prisoner of Azkaban

What if Harry was Sorted into Slytherin?

Year 1

Year 2

A few reminders going into POA. One, Hermione’s dead. So we don’t have any Time Turner shenanigans this time. Ron blames himself and, come to think of it, this would probably have made him extremely determined to catch The Heir of Slytherin back in COS. He was probably the one to accuse Draco and suggested Harry confront Hagrid, though Harry never did this. These notes are kind of retroactive but oh well. 

Owl Post remains more or less the same, minus Hermione’s letter and present of course. Dumbledore also sends a letter probably saying something to the effect of how their trip to Godric’s Hollow needs to be postponed because of the escape of Sirius Black, a known Death Eater. I’m not sure if McGonagall sent Harry the letter about Hogsmeade because she was his Head of House or because she was Deputy Headmistress, but I love the idea of Snape sending Harry a passive-aggressive letter with Alan Rickman’s tone. Anyway, Harry has another surprise visitor in the night - Dobby. Who, if you recall, was not freed at the end of COS, Harry simply had no opportunity to do it. He sympathizes with the Elf, as he is a slave to The Malfoys after all. But he’s also frustrated as Dobby is once again here to plead with him not to return to Hogwarts - this time, it is the threat of Sirius Black that frightens him. Harry refuses, and warns Dobby that any attempt to keep him here will be prevented by Dumbledore, just like last time. When they overhear one of the Dursleys getting up to use the bathroom, Dobby quickly disapparates. 

Aunt Marge would still be a colossal asshole, and Harry’s behavior would, according to Vernon, determine whether or not the Hogsmeade permission form gets signed. But this time, I think Dobby would actually sabotage the visit. I don’t think it would go the same way. Marge may still get inflated, but Harry may or may not be the one to do so. Before she can even instigate him, Dobby’s magic comes into play. He’d do things like flood all the toilets, make the lights burn out, make Ripper attack the Dursleys. Anything to make believe Harry was doing magic. I could still see this ending with Marge’s inflation. Harry is sent to his room because, guilty or not, he is blamed. Dobby is there - attempting to silence The Sneakoscope - and Harry, now provoked and angry, attacks him with magic - whether accidental or deliberate.

Thing is, the Ministry is going to blame Harry too. They didn't believe Harry last time, why should they this time? He realizes he is well and truly screwed now, and there’s no going back, so like before, he decides to run for it. He may even have to body-bind The Dursleys on his way out, but something tells me he doesn’t mind that. He goes to Mrs. Figg for help, trying to explain the situation. She uses floo powder to call who Harry hopes will be Dumbledore but turns out to be - Snape. Hooray. Snape absolutely rips Harry apart when he finds out what Harry has done, causing an argument that frightens all the poor cats. Harry bites back that Snape would have done the same if he’d ever spent years being relentlessly bullied. Oh, you all know what’s coming. Snape, with immense satisfaction, outlines exactly how James and his gang used to treat Snape, up to and including a vague allusion to The Prank. “He even tried to have me killed, and as ever, Dumbledore looked the other way.” This stuns Harry, who can’t believe what he’s hearing. 

So, no Knight Bus. Dumbledore agrees to let Harry stay with Figg rather than Snape as he sorts out the business with The Dursleys and desperately tries to maintain Harry's annual stay there. Memory charms may have to be involved, but we'll come back to that. But now we have a situation on our hands. No Knight Bus, and the Knight Bus was the only thing that stopped Harry from meeting Sirius, remember? I imagine Sirius would try to get into Figg’s house to talk to Harry just the same, but unfortunately for him, she has twelve cats. Yeah, they howl up a storm and Padfoot takes off into the night, but not before Harry glimpses his retreating form. He tries again a few nights later, this time taking a chance and approaching the door as a man. This too, fails, as Figg is a former member of The Order, and recognizes him through the window. She screams and Sirius retreats once more. 

Harry doesn’t yet know that the appearance of the escaped convict and the stray dog he glimpsed are at all related. But after this, he is moved to Diagon Alley for the remainder of the summer where he’ll be safer. Staying with Florean Fortecue because he was totally meant to be an Order member and Rowling just forgot to say so. Harry buys all the books he needs for his new classes, including The Monster Book of Monsters, and he also sees The Firebolt. He also gets a personal visit from Fudge who warns him that it is now officially on his record that he attacked muggles with underage magic - but, in the interest of keeping Harry out of the spotlight and off Sirius’ radar, they’re going to be dropping the charges. Still, it may come up later, especially in OOTP. We’ll have to see. 

Harry runs into Ron, who still went on that vacation to Egypt. (I mean hell, Percy’s girlfriend died, he could use a break.) They also both meet Crookshanks in the pet shop. Except this time, Hermione doesn’t adopt him. But I think Harry does. He has a new appreciation for cats and he can always relate to being an unwanted orphan. Obviously, Ron isn’t happy, nor is Hedwig for that matter, but they’ll learn to live with it. Hogwarts students aren’t really allowed to have two pets but then again, they’re not supposed to have Rats either. With the level of special treatment Harry is typically given, I think he gets away with this. Actually, Snape and Dumbledore would likely *prefer* He focuses his attention on pets, rather than lawless adventures. 

I don’t know if Harry would overhear Arthur and Molly’s discussion about Sirius, but do you know who could? Ginny. And she would relay it to Harry, since they’re closer pals now. Molly and Arthur are especially worried since Harry came within an inch of Sirius back at Little Whinging. While Harry isn’t exactly their surrogate son this time around, he has now befriended both Ron and Ginny, and I think he’s reaching the point where Molly in particular would activate her mama bear instincts, especially once Ron tells her some of the stories Harry would have recounted about The Dursleys. Arthur would likely still warn Harry not to search for Sirius, though as this is probably their first meeting, it comes off as even weirder to Harry. 

Hogwarts Express time, and that means Dementor time. Harry has a bunch of horrible memories for the Dementor to feast on. There are the ones from canon, but there’s also his time being possessed. Yikes, I knew going to Slytherin would be hard on him, but still. He probably sits with Ron and Ginny. No way to be sure they’d happen to pick the same compartment as Remus, but it doesn’t especially matter. No matter where he’s sitting, he’d summon a Patronus and send the Dementor off the train. Ginny probably has an easier time with the Dementors than she does in the canon timeline but she'd still have some horrible Possession memories of her own to grapple with. Ron likewise remembers calling Hermione a nightmare, and later learning that she was killed.

Though Harry is overjoyed to learn that Hagrid is teaching one of his new subjects, he is equally dismayed to hear that The Dementors are going to be a mainstay. Draco mocks him for fainting but Nott privately admits that The Dementor upset him too - he reimagined his mother’s death when it passed by. The next day, Harry tries to visit Dumbledore’s office but cannot guess the password, so he instead goes to Snape and asks how long the Dementors are going to be at the school. When he is told that they’ll be around until Sirius is caught, Harry voices the idea that Sirius can’t be worse than them. With a deadly look in his eyes, Snape remarks that Sirius is much worse. But, he adds, Harry had best be careful not to run afoul of the Dementors. “They are only here to protect your ungrateful skin, Potter.” 

Time for new classes. Let’s cover the odd one out first. Muggle Studies. The only student we know took Muggle Studies is Ernie MacMillan. Now, is Ernie more apologetic toward Harry for falsely suspecting him last year? Not remotely. Keep in mind, the rumor around the school is that Harry went down into The Chamber and left a message warning the school staff not to close Hogwarts. Officially yes, Dumbledore would have cleared it up and said that he was kidnapped, and The Heir would have been identified as Voldemort. But Harry *did* command the Basilisk as well, he’s a Parselmouth and the Monster was a Snake, not to mention he’s in Slytherin…I think a number of students still consider the whole scenario to be a bit dodgy. No one complained about the school staying open but…Penelope still died.

So yeah, Harry’s not popular with anyone right now apart from maybe the Slytherins, and that would be for the wrong reasons anyway, so Harry would not want it. His only true friends at this point are Ron, Ginny, Hagrid, and Nott. He could have other Slytherin friends who are decent to him - girls like Greengrass and Tracey Davis are never confirmed to be part of Pansy's gang, but it's likely that they are. Either way, these characters they’re basically blank slates so I am hesitant to use them. Theodore at least has a bit more to go on. Still, I find it more realistic that Harry make friends over time. Sadly, I doubt any of them would be taking Muggle Studies, and I’m getting way off topic anyway. Harry is eager to learn about muggles and Charity Burbage is intrigued to have him in her class, as she rarely gets Slytherins. I think they’d have a good relationship...for the most part. Harry’s still not that dedicated as far as students go. 

The Hippogriff and Tea Leaf lessons go more or less the same way. Trelawney predicts Harry’s death, might even predict him falling to the dark side if she wants to follow the rumors, and Draco ruins everything in Care of Magical Creatures. In fact, I think he deliberately provoked Buckbeak this time. I think the moment he learned of Hagrid’s appointment, he knew how to take his revenge. After all, he’s losing Snape’s favor, and he blames Harry for that. So this time. Draco goes ham. He misses classes, keeps going back to the Hospital Wing, has Lucius come down to the school and raise hell, demanding Hagrid be sacked. Lucius knows full well that it’s just a scratch but he also wants Hagrid fired anyway, so he plays along.

However, this backfires on Draco. He plays up the arm injury so much that Marcus Flint decides to hold renewed tryouts for Seeker. Whether Draco is faking it or not, if he’s not going to have his arm out of the sling in time for the first match, he can’t play. At the encouragement of his Slytherin friends (Nott, Greengrass, Davis) Harry attends Tryouts. Maybe acquaintances is a better word but they get along decently well and at least some of them have to find Draco annoying, or would rather hedge their bets on the celebrity. Either way, Harry tries out and given his natural talent, he gets chosen as the new Slytherin Seeker. 

Draco is pissed off. He tries to get his father to make it go away, but honestly there’s nothing Lucius can really do. He can’t ask Flint to play a Seeker with an injury that would impede his Seeking ability. Also, the Slytherin team have had their Nimbus 2001s for a year now, so the window for Lucius to take them back has kind of already closed. In this situation I’m not sure what he would do, but Draco? Knowing him, he gives away that he’s faking the injury in the effort to keep his Seeker position, which means he loses on basically all counts. Buckbeak’s troubles are probably over, but we’ll see. 

Boggart time. Neville’s Boggart is still Snape, and I think Harry would have a unique appreciation for that. Between this and Harry saving his Remembrall back in Year 1, I think Neville would likely grow fond of Harry, though being a Slytherin he may still be intimidated by him. Harry still assumes his Boggart to be a Dementor and Remus still stops him from facing it, but here’s another change. Ron’s Boggart could still be a spider, for sure, but his arachnophobia wouldn’t be as strong this time, since the encounter with Aragog never happened. No, instead, I think his Boggart transforms into Hermione. Little First Year Hermione who never got to grow older, and Ron believes it’s his fault.

Here’s a minor change. I think Harry, as a Slytherin, would be surrounded by people who would suggest that he forge The Dursley’s signature a lot sooner. This did happen with Dean Thomas in the original books, but only after Harry had already asked McGonagall to sign it for him. I don’t see him asking Snape, and I can see Theodore or maybe Daphne offering to forge it for him. Like I mentioned, I think this year sees at least a few Slytherins migrating from Draco’s side of the rivalry to Harry’s. Since Harry may consort with blood traitors and Gryffindors…but Draco’s just a pain in the ass. Either way, Harry is still barred from Hogsmeade on Halloween. Here’s the thing: Dumbledore was never going to actually let him go. The lack of permission slip was just a good excuse. But as far as anyone knows, Sirius Black is out there and aiming to kill Harry, so no way the staff are letting him leave school. Harry’s pretty incensed at this injustice. 

He tries to go see Ron at Gryffindor Tower, who didn’t go into Hogsmeade, to check on him. However, he cannot get past The Fat Lady. So instead, he meets with Remus for tea, they discuss the Boggart and Remus explains why he didn’t let Harry face it, impressing Harry by actually saying Voldemort’s name. Harry witnesses Snape delivering the Wolfsbane Potion. I don’t think any of this changes, but Remus would definitely be intrigued to see James and Lily’s son in Slytherin of all things. Sirius attacks The Fat Lady (man, even in the original books, this was weird. It’s the only time he ever acts outwardly violent toward someone who is totally innocent, but I digress.) Though this time, Harry is mostly concerned about Ron. 

At this point in the original timeline, the teachers crack down on watching Harry. McGonagall even tries to stop Harry from playing Quidditch but he talks her out of it. Snape would not be so easily swayed, and he likes to torment Harry, so he would straight up inform Harry that he’s off the Slytherin Team and Draco will have his old spot back. Harry doesn’t take this well, and goes to Flint and Hooch, who go to Dumbledore, and it’s agreed that, since Harry has been practicing for the first match already, he can at least play in that. 

But the first match is not going to go well. It’s not against Hufflepuff, but against Gryffindor, and I suspect Ginny would be playing Seeker. Not sure who would have played it the last two years, probably just someone we don’t know, but Ginny is a second year now and we know she’s got Quidditch talent. Either way, it doesn't matter who Harry is facing. He still sees The Grim, and falls off his broom thanks to the Dementors. Slytherin loses the match, Harry’s in disgrace, and now he really is off the team. He’d been banking on proving himself in this match to try and change that outcome but now his fate is sealed, and Draco can visit The Hospital Wing to gloat. 

Dobby appears once again, after hours, in a scene not unlike the one from Chamber of Secrets. He’s obviously not responsible for the Grim, or the Dementors, but as far as he’s concerned, they prove his point. He begs Harry to go home, as Harry begins to notice that Dobby looks awful. Bruised and battered. He’s been punishing himself nonstop for getting Harry in trouble with the Ministry. Now beginning to feel pity, Harry tells him to stop. Instead, he suggests that Dobby can make it up to him by using his Elf Magic to tail Sirius Black. If you listen hard, you can hear Hermione rolling in her grave.

Which reminds me, Crookshanks is in contact with Sirius like before, he’s hunting Scabbers like before, and it causes a rift between Harry and Ron, though not a significant one. Even if Scabbers eventually fakes his death, the boys live in different Houses, so Crookshanks could hardly be responsible. Meanwhile, Snape takes over teaching Defense Against The Dark Arts while Remus is ill, and gives the Werewolf Essay. 

I don’t think the Weasley twins give Harry the Marauder’s Map in this timeline. They’d like him okay, they’d trust him at least a little, but they haven’t really spent much time with him at this point. Also, they’d have heard about Ron’s ordeal of seeing Hermione again as a Boggart. So maybe they give the Map to Ron instead. But I assume Ron would share it with Harry anyway, show him what it is and how it works. Still, he’s the one who’s keeping it for the time being. Either way, they sneak into Hogsmeade. Harry doesn’t have the Invisibility Cloak either, as it’s in Dumbledore’s custody, so just like before, he and Ron hide under the table to avoid being seen by the string of adult characters who arrive, and proceed to drop an exposition bomb about Sirius Black. That he was The Secret Keeper, and James’ best friend. 

Even in the originals, what follows is possibly the lowest, darkest point that Harry ever had, where he genuinely considers the idea of hunting down and killing Sirius. He goes to confront Snape, and asks what Snape knows about the death of his parents, and who was responsible. For his part, Snape has frozen in place, his expression unreadable, but he definitely thinks Harry is referring to something else before Harry presses on. “I know they were friends. Black and-and my Dad. It wasn’t him who tried to kill you, it was Black, wasn’t it?” Snape coldly remarks that it was both of them, that James simply got cold feet after the fact, but now Harry is convinced that whatever bad behavior his dad may (or may not) have exhibited toward Snape in school came from the influence of Sirius. 

Ron isn’t able to shake Harry from his cold rage, nor is Hagrid or any of his Slytherin friends. You know who I think does, though? Ginny. She and Harry have a unique bond where she can call him out when he’s being stupid, and he’ll listen. She points out that if Sirius is caught by the Dementors, he’ll suffer a lot more than whatever Harry could hope to do to him. So instead, Harry turns his attention back to restoring his spot on the Quidditch team. (As well as helping Hagrid with Buckbeak’s case, if we assume Buckbeak is still on the hotseat. I doubt he is, though.) His Slytherin friends have been advising him to buy a racing broom of his own. He’s a better flier than Draco, and he’s got the gold for it, so why not? Before Harry can pursue this idea, however, Christmas comes and he gets the Firebolt anyway. 

This instantly makes Harry more popular among the Slytherins, inspires the awe and envy of his Weasley pals, and is enough to convince Flint to once again replace Draco with Harry. Though Hermione isn’t here to tell McGonagall about The Firebolt, it would quickly become the talk of the school anyway, and it would reach the ear of the teachers. Meaning Snape likewise confiscates it as McGonagall did, though he’s certainly more of a bully about it, with his typical sneer and everything. When Harry protests, Snape can shut him up by admitting that yes, Sirius was the brains behind the attempt on his life, so Harry had best take this seriously. 

At this point, Dobby reappears and is unable to provide any information about Sirius. He searched Hogsmeade and the surrounding areas, he searched Diagon and Knockturn Alley, he even called upon Sirius’ old family home and spoke with the Black family elf Kreacher, but Kreacher had not seen him in years. Dobby does have an interesting story to provide though. While searching Diagon Alley, he witnessed Harry Potter’s cat visiting Gringotts, carrying a slip of parchment in his mouth. Dobby was unable to eavesdrop, but Crookshanks subsequently left Gringotts and went over to…Quality Quidditch Supplies. Harry is flabbergasted. Crookshanks bought him The Firebolt? It can’t be, right? Dobby further reveals that he’s seen Crookshanks hanging out with a mysterious black dog. Yeah, it’s safe to say that Harry begins to wonder about his cat. 

Harry begins his Patronus lessons with Remus, I don’t see why that would change. He likewise learns that Remus knew James and Sirius during their time at Hogwarts, though as before, Remus wouldn’t let on just how close they actually were. Harry struggles for a while, but eventually settles on the memory of looking into The Mirror of Erised in Dumbledore’s Office, which remains one of the happiest moments of his life. This proves effective at helping him conjure a basic Patronus. Meanwhile, Harry has to tell Flint that he’s lost the Firebolt, and Flint probably doubts Harry ever had one to begin with. Or, if he’s already seen it, he can just say that Harry has to get it back if he wants to be on the team. Either way: No Firebolt, no Seeking for him.

Scabbers disappears. Ron initially blames Crookshanks but later concedes that it would have been damn near impossible for him to be responsible. Harry, remembering Dobby’s tale, is privately not so sure. He is given back The Firebolt, probably by McGonagall still as Snape wouldn’t want to return it, and she can make some professional rival’s comment encouraging him to work hard, because it’s going to take more than a good broomstick to defeat Gryffindor. That kind of thing. I think McGonagall is rather fond of Harry, even if she doesn’t know him as well this time. She’d have seen him hanging with Ron and Ginny, after all. 

At some point in the latter half of this year, Hermione dropped Divination. Harry is now back on the Quidditch team, much to Draco’s anger, so he has less time to study, and since he’s taking three electives, he can technically drop one. Would be easy to say Muggle Studies as that’s the new addition, but I actually feel like, of the three, he’d be most likely to drop Divination as well. He never liked it much, and Trelawney opened this year by predicting his death. So he drops Divination at around this point and therefore he never hears the second Prediction. 

Harry’s next Quidditch match could happen here, whether against Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw doesn’t really matter. While this is where he first met Cho, when he faced her in Quidditch, I think Harry’s less likely to crush on her this time. Sure, she’s pretty, and he’d notice, but he’s also been spending a lot of time with Ginny, and for bonus points, let’s say at least one of his new Slytherin friends is now on the team as well. No way to know if this would happen in the original universe but we do have to take some liberties here. Harry may have been too late to be in this match anyway, but let’s say he was. I think either way, he wins, and a similar sequence plays out where Draco attempts to sabotage him by dressing up as Dementors with Crabbe and Goyle. Harry conjures a Corporeal Patronus for the first time but doesn’t even notice as he’s too busy chasing the Snitch. Remus notices though, and he notices its form. 

Sirius breaks into Gryffindor Tower and appears over Ron’s bed before Ron screams and Sirius manages to escape. Everyone is hard pressed to understand why Sirius keeps going after Gryffindor Tower. It has to be common knowledge at this point that Harry isn’t there, right? Harry half-wonders if Sirius isn’t deliberately targeting the Weasleys to hurt him, and his anger is stoked even further. When he talks about this with Theo and the others, he is oddly tempted by their description of The Unforgivable Curses, and how, if Harry really wants to take the fight to Sirius, he’ll need that kind of magic on his side. (I have to assume that he would have heard about the Curses a bit sooner in that Common Room.) 

The next Hogsmeade visit would play out similarly. I think this is where Ginny finds out about The Marauder’s Map, and while she normally appreciates a good bit of mischief, she finds The Map disturbing. It reminds her of Tom Riddle’s diary, which, once Harry sees it, he cannot unsee it, and is now hesitant to trust The Map as well. Ron argues that it has only ever helped them and Harry eventually agrees to go to Hogsmeade with him, but Ginny insists on coming as well, and she’s not taking no for an answer. She wants to look out for them. 

What’s different about this sequence is that Harry does not have The Cloak with him, so he wouldn’t go around throwing mud at Draco because he’d get seen. Draco may wind up seeing him anyway, but Harry still makes it back to Hogwarts before Snape is told, so there’s still no proof. In this timeline, he doesn’t even have The Marauder’s Map, so Remus doesn’t get brought in, he doesn’t find out Harry has the Map, and he doesn’t confiscate it. Now *that* is going to make a hell of a lot of difference in a short while.

Quidditch Final time. Again, I don’t think it matters which House Slytherin winds up facing. Either way, Harry’s on a Firebolt, and he’s a brilliant Seeker, not to mention the rest of the team is on Nimbus 2001s. So I think it’s safe to say Slytherin wins, which bolsters Harry’s reputation among his Housemates by a lot. Draco, meanwhile, is sinking into unpopularity and hating it. He’s never hated Harry more.  Exams begin, but Harry’s no longer in Divination, so he doesn’t hear the Prediction. No one else was there, so it goes unheard. 

So how does the climax play out? Probably plays out mostly the same, at least at first. Assuming that Crookshanks accompanies Harry around to various places, he’d likely be there when Harry visits Hagrid. Ron may also be there, Ginny might be too, but given their different schedules it’s not a guarantee and honestly it doesn’t change much. Either way, it was Ron who found Scabbers in the original timeline, but it could easily be Crookshanks, and either way, Crookshanks goes in for the kill. He grabs Scabbers in his mouth and takes off through the open window. 

Harry and Ron give chase, pursuing Crookshanks to the ominous Whomping Willow, where he seems to vanish behind the branches. Both boys are concerned for their animal companions, and Harry is not one to give up, so a few black eyes and sprained ankles later, they discover the secret entrance and make their way inside. Ron has the Marauder’s Map, but it wouldn’t extend all the way to the Shack, meaning they wouldn’t see the damning names of Sirius and Peter. So when they arrive, they find Sirius Black sitting with Crookshanks, holding Scabbers in a binding spell. (Sirius totally worked out that Crookshanks was Harry’s cat and is all the more fond of him because of it.)

Sirius likely incapacitates Ron in some fashion, binding him with ropes, body-binding him, silencing him, or something to that effect. Harry attacks Sirius, and given how he's lived in the Slytherin Dungeons for the last three years, odds are he knows of The Unforgivables. Him not knowing them was basically the only reason he didn't use them here, in the original timeline. Would he kill Sirius? I doubt he has it in him, but you know what Harry could and likely would do? Crucio. I feel sick just saying it but Harry did have an unfortunate pattern of using that spell even in the original books. Ron is horrified, and Sirius, amid his screams, pleads with Harry. Asks for the chance to tell his side of the story. Harry relents, just for a moment, and agrees to listen. If nothing else, he wants to know why Sirius did it, right?

Sirius insists that Peter is alive and begs for the chance to prove it. Either Harry agrees, or Sirius manages to disarm him. Either way, he then force Peter to resume human form, before explaining everything to Harry. He also releases Ron from his own binding, as a gesture of good will. He likely assumes Ron is Harry’s friend, and figures a warning not to run will suffice. (As if Ron was ever going to abandon a friend.) But anyway, onto the story. The story of how he and his friends became Animagi, (though leaving out certain details like about Remus being a Werewolf) how he, Sirius, was initially The Secret Keeper but the plan was changed at the last second under the belief that Voldemort would never suspect a wimp like Peter of being the Keeper. But Peter had been a spy for Voldemort for a while by that point. Peter denies everything, but cannot explain how he himself is alive.

The pieces all fall into place as they do in the original timeline - such as Scabbers having always been missing a toe, or how he was stressed and sick before he met Crookshanks, at around the point Sirius’ escape was reported. All of that still checks out, Ron still went on that trip to Egypt and all. But here’s an important change - Remus never got his hands on The Map. Therefore, he didn’t see Peter’s name on it, and didn’t head down to The Willow. Therefore, Snape didn’t either. Therefore, Remus doesn’t miss his last dose of Wolfsbane and transforms safely in his office. 

This is the final nail in the coffin for our poor little traitor. Harry not being quite as close to Ron, as well as Ron’s early traumas, meant that Fred and George were always going to give him the Map instead of Harry. If Harry never gets it, Remus never confiscates it, and without Remus having the Map, he isn’t involved in Peter’s capture. It was only Remus’ transformation that gave Peter the opening to escape. So how about that. Harry being a Slytherin means that Peter doesn’t get away at all. His back to the wall, he could try blackmail - threatening to reveal Sirius is an Animagus and that Harry used an Unforgivable. But both of them are probably undeterred. Sirius, Harry, and Ron all carefully lead him through the Willow’s secret passage and back up to the castle. 

(Of course, in both timelines, they literally could have just stunned Peter, and taken the risk of him trying to escape completely out of the equation. I have no damn clue why Sirius doesn’t think of this. Harry doesn’t know the stunning spell yet but both Sirius and Remus should. Oh well. It may be a plot hole but it ain’t MY plot hole.) 

The only real tricky part is getting into the Castle, getting past the Dementors. But Harry can conjure his Patronus properly for the first time here. It’s not as cool as using it to save his past self, but it will suffice. Sirius also conjures his big ol’ puppy dog Patronus, and together they clear the way. Actually making it inside the castle is tricky, as seeing Sirius Black would lead to people firing first and asking questions later. But Harry could jump in front of him to shield him, and with Crookshanks nearby, the chance of Peter trying to sneak off or succeeding at such is unlikely. 

What happens next depends heavily on who Harry actually encounters first. Probably Peeves or Filch, and if it’s the latter, he would be of no help at all and I could honestly see Sirius just hexing him out of frustration. If Snape shows up, that’s an absolute nightmare, you all know he wouldn’t listen to Harry or Ron. But I have to assume McGonagall, the absolute queen of punctuality and also the second in command at Hogwarts, would get there shortly after Snape if not before. She would listen to reason, and both she and Snape would, of course, recognize Peter. We can have a nice moment where McGonagall apologizes to Sirius for doubting him and expresses disappointment in Peter.

With the spy apprehended and sent to Azkaban, Sirius is exonerated. Course, Peter probably blabs, in an attempt to get a reduced sentence. Sirius could just as easily be thrown right back into a cell for being an unregistered Animagus. Snape would certainly be pushing for that to happen. But I think Dumbledore would be able to persuade Fudge that such a sentence should be commuted. After all, Sirius did spend 12 years in Azkaban for a crime he didn’t commit. At that point the Ministry should be willing to call it even. I have my suspicions that Dumbledore may not want Sirius around, as he cannot control him the way he can The Weasleys, but Sirius still has a legitimate claim to guardianship over Harry. Still, Dumbledore also wants to stay in Harry’s good books, and there’s no legitimate reason Sirius wouldn’t be acquitted here. 

As for Harry, I can see that being overlooked as well, though this will have consequences down the road. The Trace doesn't seem capable of detecting if an underage wizard uses an Unforgivable, but if a genuine accusation was made, Priori Incantatem would prove Harry's guilt. Nonetheless, he's thirteen years old, he had a justifiable catalyst, and Sirius, the victim of the equation, isn't exactly pressing charges. I think Dumbledore could make these charges go away. However, Fudge's patience is starting to wear thin. I also think Ron's friendship with Harry has now suffered another fracture, even if Ron doesn't actually discuss it with Harry outright. For his part, Harry feels awful about having done that to Sirius, who immediately and unconditionally forgives him, because of course he does.

So what does this mean moving forward? Well, we have a few points to go over. First of all, because Remus never misses his Potion and never gets loose on the grounds in Wolf form…does he even still resign? Well, knowing the job is jinxed, I think he does still have to leave somehow. It occurs to me that, Remus missing his potion or not, Snape could still out him. And while Remus did have a close call in the original timeline, that was never the real reason Snape exposed him - he was angry that Sirius got away. Harry helping to clear Sirius’ name would inspire similar rage, and I think Snape would still tell the Slytherins about Remus. Harry doesn’t (initially) view this as a horrible betrayal because he didn’t even know Remus was a Werewolf. He is instead confused and upset, especially since his Slytherin pals (and Ron) would speak horribly of Werewolves. He’d ask Snape if it was true, and later go see Remus. 

I think this meeting, as well as a later one with Sirius, would begin to turn Harry’s mind around. It is here that he would learn why The Marauders became Animagi, that they wrote the Map. Harry realizes that Ron has it, though he may or may not tell Ron. I think Harry talks to Sirius as well, and he asks Sirius if he and James really tried to kill Snape. Sirius would downplay this, act as though it was no big deal, but Remus would not think it was so funny. Harry would reflect on the endless conflict between his father and Snape, comparing it to his own with Draco. 

So what happens to Harry? I think it’s at this point that Harry wants to go live with Sirius, if Sirius will have him, and we all know he will. Dumbledore would likely tell them about The Blood Wards at this point, because I don’t think Sirius is going to just accept that #DumbledoreHasHisReasons. He’ll want to know why on earth Harry is expected to stay with Lily’s horrid sister, and once he finds out about the abuse Harry suffered at the hands of the Dursleys - he’s going to hit the fucking roof. What's more, he's seen James's son, who was Sorted into Slytherin to be taught be Snivellus and he's already learning Unforgivables. If Dumbledore and Sirius can agree on one thing, it's that Harry badly needs proper guidance.

So, because of the Blood Wards, Sirius begrudgingly agrees that Harry can stay at Privet Drive for a couple of weeks a year if Sirius can stay with him. As Padfoot or otherwise. (The Dursleys are going to love that.) Remus is out of a job at this point but Sirius and Harry both have money, so ultimately, he probably stays with them. (My Wolfstar shipping heart is racing, but I’ll stay focused.) The main question is where Sirius will go to live at this point.

Logically, he’d stay at Grimmauld Place, but he hates it there. That’s the house he grew up in and was abused in. He has the money to live somewhere else, but finding a three bedroom flat in London on short notice, when he’d have to translate that money into muggle money…I feel like this is one of those situations where he’d plan to find somewhere else to live, but would initially, reluctantly, move back home until he gets his life re-established, only to be stuck in a rut in that same house.

Couple more points about Sirius. One, I think he demands that Harry’s Cloak be returned permanently, and Dumbledore concedes on the condition that Harry promises not to use it irresponsibly. Sirius also doesn’t need to write Harry and Ron from afar and rather than Ron receiving Pigwidgeon, I wonder if Harry doesn’t give one of his pets to Ron. Since, y’know, he lost his rat and all. Whether it’s Hedwig, so that he can have an owl, or Crookshanks. The latter idea is considerably funnier, but Harry would have bonded with Crookshanks by this point as well, and Sirius would have too. Anyway, that about wraps up “Owl Post Again.” The Dementors are still removed from Hogwarts as Sirius is cleared, and he signs Harry’s Hogsmeade permission slip like always. 

We're starting to see the fractures. The timeline is changing more and more. Cannot wait to see what becomes of this in GOF!

[fa-headhoncho]

Unlike The Rest: Part 2

George Weasley x Reader (eventually)

Prompt: The school year has finally begun and things already seem to be going wrong.

Word Count: 2555

Reader: Female

Warning: Let me know what I could work on and what you would like to see in this series. I expect this to be a longer one and I have a lot of ideas for the future but I’m stuck on some filler chapters. So, please let me know.

Masterlist Series Masterlist

======

The carriage ride up to the castle was very uncomfortable, to say the least. Cedric tried to get you to talk but once his friends started talking, they made you feel out of place. His friends talked about all the wild adventures they had this summer and reminisced about years past together. All stuff that didn’t include or relate to you. 

The only time Cedric’s friends seemed to have an interest in you when they spoke about Quidditch merely because you were a chaser on the team. And when you did talk, they just ignored you or rolled their eyes. You just wished you could do first year all over again and reintroduce yourself to everyone. 

Nonetheless, you did appreciate Cedric for trying to help you make new friends but you’d rather keep to yourself. Making friends is hard when all people see is your last name.

Walking into the Great Hall with the group, you gaze up at the tall ceiling. It’s bewitched to emulate the sky outside. Every year you are welcomed by it. You believe it helps with the new year jitters and the claustrophobia of hundreds of children in one room.

You start to trail behind Cedric and his friends, taking it all in. This is your home. The floating candles, the professors sitting at the front of the room, the natural warmth of the castle just screams belonging. A large smile appears on your face once again, something that only this place can bring. 

This year you are determined to focus on your studies… specifically Care of Magical Creatures. You’ve been reading all summer to get ahead in that class. Being a Malfoy, people don’t see your family as the caring or gentle type. They’ve proven that. Which, unfortunately, Care of Magical Creatures is all about. But, unlike the rest of the Malfoys, Hagrid has said you have a special talent when it comes to caring for creatures. You are gentle and caring. Hence the reason why you were put into Hufflepuff. So, you want to prove to everyone else, and your family, that a Malfoy can have a heart.

“Daydreaming yet again, Yeti?” Cedric’s chuckle interrupts your thoughts. He noticed you straying away from the group and saw you just standing there, staring up at the sky. This didn’t surprise him, you’ve always seemed to be in your own world or gathered up in thoughts. 

You shake your head fondly at the nickname. It originated one day when he was trying to cheer you up after he found you crying in the hallway. You had failed your team at the last Quidditch match, falling off your broom and knocking Cedric off along the way. Ultimately costing the winning catch that secured the team a tremendous lead in the rankings.

The team collectively decided that they didn’t need you anymore so they never told when practices were. The backlash from your house was horrid too. People who taunted you in the hallways or blamed the fact that “Malfoy needed to have all the attention”. Hufflepuff has always been known as the kinder house but oh were they brutal. 

It all led up to your break down in Charms when someone told you that maybe jinxing yourself to the broom might be helpful. Cedric, as big-hearted as he is, followed you out and comforted you. At first, you thought it was a sick joke, going off on him. In return he just called you a Yeti, comparing the fact that no one could ever get close enough to see the real way you live. Plus the fact that you were madly aggressive on the pitch. You knew that you made a friend after that. 

“I was just thinking.” You confess, falling into step beside him as you make your way to the Hufflepuff table.

“That’s never good.”

“Oh, shut it, Diggory.” You laugh, giving his arm a slight slap. “I’m just excited about this year… Hagrid told me about all the new creatures Professor Kettleburn has in store for us.”

“Well, that is good then.” He corrects himself, taking a seat next to one of the beaters on the team. “I’m glad you’re excited about something. I know you talked about how nervous you were about Draco coming this year in your letters.”

You sigh, in the few letters you and Cedric shared during the summer, you’d confide in him about what’s been going at home; The newfound hope in Draco to carry on the Malfoy name with pride and loyalty. How they'd just left you in your room all summer to survive on your own while they made sure Draco had everything he needed to do so. It made you feel like shit. At first, when summer began, you thought things were getting better at home when you were welcomed with kind arms. Unfortunately, it was cut short when the realization of Draco’s first year was in a few months.

“Hey,” Cedric, once again, cuts your thoughts off. By this point he knows when you’re spiraling in your own head. “maybe it won’t be so bad after all.”

Right on cue, the first years all file in. Either looking lost or excited, it brings back memories of your first year. Remembering being so terrified of all the older kids staring as you walked past them. Wondering how Draco would fall in, you try looking for him. He wasn’t hard to find since in the front of the crowd, a devious smirk on his face as always. He knows what house he’s going to be in and he’s probably been boasting about it all the way here. It’s been drilled into his brain that he belongs in Slytherin, the house of the most powerful and legendary wizards. Which, according to your parents, Hufflepuff doesn’t have the means to accomplish. 

Draco then takes a glance at said table. Seeing you looking out of place as ever and he rolls his eyes at it. Turning back to his friends and whispering something to them while pointing. They erupt into laughter and you frown slightly.

“Well, I don’t think your brother could be as bad as you were.” Malcolm Preece, another chaser on the team, decides to open his big mouth. He’s a fifth-year and he always has something to say. You grab the nearest thing and throw it at him, he dodges it. “Aye, I said were.” He defends himself and then casually goes back to his own conversation.

You bite your tongue and shoot daggers into the side of his head.

“Oh, I’ve missed you, (Y/N).” Cedric wraps an arm around your shoulders and gives you a small hug.

=====

“...this has to be a joke, Ced.” You whisper to him while Professor Quirrell goes on about the spell you’ll be learning this week. “How will this be useful in the eye of a duel?” You rhetorically ask him. “There’s no way this git is qualified to work here.”

“Oh, don’t be so harsh, (Y/N).” Cedric scolds as Quirrell commands the students to review their notes, “I’m sure he’s more than proven himself to Dumbledore to be here.”

“It’s a bloody tickling curse!” You stress, utterly dumbfounded on why you would be learning this. “In the midst of a battle, I don’t think my murderer would think of making me laugh to death.”

He just shakes his head at you, a small laugh escaping his lips at the image of it.

“It would be a good way to go.” Fred Weasley, the brute of all jokes himself, cuts in. Obviously, you weren’t whispering quiet enough. “Wouldn’t it be, Georgie?” He turns to his twin sitting beside him.

“I think so, Freddie.” He immediately agrees, you roll your eyes at the two. You know where this is going.

“Here we go,” You mumble.

“Imagine it,” George puts his hands in front of himself, widely gesturing with his quill. “Going toe to toe in battle, shouting wild curses at each other, wands waving, spells casting, and then, out of nowhere—” He suddenly stops, pointing his quill at you. 

“Rictusempra!” The other one continues, “And, boom! You’re on the ground within seconds, laughing like a complete mad man. Utterly painless.” Some of your classmates laugh at them, you shake your head at the show. “A bliss way to die.” They both stare dreamingly into nothing, a small smile on both of their faces.

“You both are morons.” You deadpan, George just smirks while Fred has an exasperated look on his face.

“Morons?” He gasps, “Then, how would you like to die then, Malfoy?” He probes, his eyebrow hitched up. “A slow, painful death at the hands of a Dementor?” A few laugh.

“Preferably, yes.”

=====

You try to keep up with the fast steps of the Deputy Headmistress. Almost tripping over your robe as she speeds down the corridors, her own robes whizzing behind her. The fact that McGonagall is even accompanying you in a class switch makes your mind boggle since your head of house is Sprout.

“But, Professor, I don’t want to change subjects.” You beg, “It must be a mistake, I chose to take Muggle Studies this year, what happened?”

“Your father, Miss Malfoy.” She suddenly stops, you almost bump into her. “He demands you transfer into a different subject that doesn’t ‘deteriorate the brain’.” She quotes, “And I have to deal with it because Professor Sprout refuses to read his letters after the terrible scriptures he sent her over the last two years. I’ve got enough on my plate with my own students to be worried about hers.”

Your mouth drops, of course, he would’ve. You knew your father was mad about your house placement but you never thought he would go as far as to berated your head of house. At Hogwarts, your house is supposed to be your family no matter what and your father disrespecting your head was utterly disgusting.

“You shouldn’t be surprised, Miss Malfoy.” She continues to speak, obviously furious. “You knew this would happen when you signed up for the elective last year.”

You knew this would happen when you involuntarily signed up to be a Malfoy.

You frown, knowing she’s right about the whole thing. You thought your parents were too focused on Draco to even think about you and your classes this year. Hell, they’ve been too focused on him to even acknowledge your existence during the summer so why did they care about your classes.

“I truly do apologize, Professor McGonagall.” You look down at your shoes, too nervous to look her in her eyes. “I didn’t realize my father was doing that… nor would he interfere with my schooling. I just…” You let out a long sigh. “I just thought the class would be interesting and a bit different, is all, compared to what I’ve learned about muggles at home.”

The woman’s face immediately softens. She knew that getting sorted into Hufflepuff was going to be an issue from the moment the hat shouted it. You were clearly unhappy and confused, mumbling curse words at the hat as you made your way to the Hufflepuff table. The Malfoys have been Slytherins since she was in her own school days so when she heard the hat say something otherwise, she knew something would come out of it. 

Your father had insisted it was a mistake in every letter he sent to Dumbledore talking about how the hat was a fake and it must've been a ploy against the Malfoy name. But Dumbledore was just as persistent with backing the hat and it’s house assigning criteria.

“It is out of my control, Miss Malfoy.” McGonagall puts a comforting hand on your shoulder. “As an underage wizard, you do not have a say in the matter. We must listen to your guardians.”

“I understand, Professor.”

=====

The scent of musty floral perfume hits you like bricks as you walk into the room. Following McGonagall between the risers, you hold your books tighter to your chest. You look around once you get into the “stage” area of the classroom. The curtains are drawn, giving the room a somber vibe. The different levels hold a bit too many tables for the number of students actually attending the class. Taking a glance at the students, some are either sleeping or staring at you, glad for the interruption. 

“Professor Trelawney,” McGonagall interrupts the short woman gazing into a crystal ball. Her large eyes immediately snap to the two of you. “I have a transfer from Muggle Studies.”

The eccentric witch gets up and looks over to you, the whole classes’ eyes follow her. “Ahhh,” She sighs, pointing a finger. “I knew you would end up here, (Y/N) Malfoy.” She gives a knowing smile, Professor McGonagall just rolls her eyes while she continues to go on about what she saw in the ball about a visitor here to stay.

“Well, I have other things to attend to regarding my Quidditch team if you would kindly show Miss Malfoy to her seat,” McGonagall commands with a firm nod.

“Of course, of course!” She excitedly affirms, putting a hand to your back and guiding you towards the front of the strange classroom. You give the Charms Professor pleading eyes as she leaves the room but she just ignores you and continues on her way.

“Now,” She turns you both to the whole class. “Who would like to do the honor of having Miss Malfoy as a partner? I sense she will be a great help in this class,” She asks, everyone sits in silence. There are a few students without partners but they’d rather be alone than be with you. 

“Well, a little unpopular we are, I see,” Trelawney mumbles to no one in particular, you immediately look down at your feet. “How ‘bout you find your own seat, love?” 

You go straight to the back and take the first seat in the row, not daring to look at anyone on the way up.

“Oh, what type of wicked witch did I cross to get a curse like this?” The familiar disgust of one of the Weasley boys hits your ears. Your head snaps to him, trying to quickly identify which twin you would be spending the year with. 

“Hush it, George.” You sneer, not in the mood for his shit. “Or are you Fred?” You squint, the dim candlelight not helping distinguish which. “No, Fred is much more clever with his insults.”

George just rolls his eyes at you, “He might have the brains but I’ve got the looks.” He leans back in his chair, putting his arms behind his head and his feet on the table. “Don’t you agree, Malfie?” He eggs, a smirk on his face.

You let out a scoff. “You both look like gnomes stacked on each other under a robe… Especially with that carrot top of a head of yours.” You push his feet off the table, setting your books where they were. The shove sends his balance off and he falls back onto the floor.

“Well, you were right about Fred having the brains, huh?” You stare down at him. The redhead sticks his tongue out at you like a five-year-old. “This is going to be a long year.” You mumble under your breath.

[thelibranarchives]

For @giucorreias Flufftober prompts. Day 1- Touch.

'Bellatrix Lestrange,' Harry Potter said, voice so toneless and flat that Draco Malfoy shuddered suddenly with the goosebumps that cropped up. He didn't dare lift his eyes from the ground, though. Not that he could, with the blue-black bruise over his left eye. The entirety of the nearly twenty foot great hall was silent, half of them ashamed at being admonished and the other half, listening with rapt attention to the saviour of the wizarding world.

'I'm pretty sure,' Potter went on, 'that with the exception of the first years, a majority of the rest have had first hand experiences with her.'

A few voices in the back made mumbling noises as though protesting. Potter looked sharply at them.

'Or wasn't that your excuse to start physically and verbally abusing the Slytherins?' Weasley snarled in their direction, hands on his hips.

More voices rose and Draco swept a quick look around the hall. The students at the four tables were now standing up and starting to talk over each other while those at the fifth table that housed the eighth years were fuming silently. Blaise, Pansy, Millie and Daphne were standing next to him, all of them holding hands like a group of five year olds about to cross a road.

Draco knew they had brought this upon themselves and the students were, at least slightly justified in their actions. Their attitude wasn't really shocking. It was Potter's stance that was surprising everyone. Just like it did four months ago when all three of the Golden Trio testified for Draco and his mother.

Potter had smiled at him after he had been acquitted, a smile Draco had trouble fathoming even months later. Draco had thought it felt like a truce that day. He didn't know how to define what was happening now.

'Since many of you seem to have trouble recalling Bellatrix even though we have on record that she visited our school on the weekends,' Potter said loudly, quieting the hall once again, 'how about someone who I know is still in your nightmares?'

Granger whipped her head around to Potter at that, eyes widening in realisation. Draco closed his eyes, grunting in pain and squeezing Blaise's fingers into paralysis.

'Fenrir Greyback!' Potter said and everyone flinched before they were aware of what they gave away.

'That was who Draco stood against and lied to. A dangerously powerful Legilimens and a frightening werewolf.'

'He bullied you. He bullied us. They all did!' A sixth year Hufflepuff screamed.

'Malfoy was the reason the Death Eaters could enter Hogwarts,' another chorused.

'And what makes you think he didn't suffer like you?' Granger snapped, turning back to them. 'Would a pensieve memory of Draco shrieking under a Cruciatus be enough or would you like to go back in time and watch it happen yourself?'

'Draco,' a soft, lilting voice called that Draco found himself unknowingly turning towards. 'I haven't ever thanked you for healing my injuries, have I?'

Luna Lovegood walked down the aisle between the tables to stand before him. 'Thank you,' she smiled, engulfing him in a hug.

Draco saw more than heard the gasps that followed. His grip on Blaise's hand loosened momentarily.

'If we stood beside each other, how many do you think will mistake us for siblings?' Lovegood pulled back and went on, either truly oblivious to the bulging eyes or deliberately choosing to ignore them.

'Quite a lot, I'd say,' Ginevra Weasley said, coming up behind her and wrapping a hand around her shoulders. She scrunched her face, looking from Lovegood to Draco and back again, nodding as if she found the similarities already.

'Are none of you hungry?' Longbottom asked from the eighth year table.

'We'll be right there, Neville,' Ginevra replied, steering Lovegood away. She stopped when she reached Daphne.

'Oh Daphne,' she said conversationally, 'did all the first years you helped escape make it?'

'They did,' Millie nodded. 'We uh, we diverted the Dea- the Dea- we diverted them elsewhere when they came for us.'

'That's what I heard,' Ginevra nodded back. 'Don't you like plum cake? That's our dessert today,' she continued, looping her other hand around Daphne's neck, signalling Millie and walking off.

'You heard her,' Weasley said, looking at Blaise and Pansy, 'the food's going to go cold.' He motioned them both to join him.

Blaise, Pansy and Draco exchanged looks and started to move when Potter grabbed Draco's wrist and held him back, his expression inscrutable. Potter stared at him for a long time before he tightened his hold and turned back to face the room.

'Voldemort,' he started, uncaring of the wince the name induced in the others, 'causelessly believed that purebloods and Slytherins were better than muggleborns and mobilised an army of like minded people to take over the world. If you were any better than him, you wouldn't judge someone on the basis of their blood or house affiliation.'

Draco idly thought Potter had grown into quite the person, drilling silence into others. A wandering part of his brain also wondered if defeating Voldemort gave one such powers.

'He was your worst enemy!' A boy from Ravenclaw shrieked.

'Voldemort was my worst enemy. Draco was only my opponent at school and we've made our peace with each other,' Potter snapped. 'If this is only about him, then why are the other younger year Slytherins also taking a trip to the Infirmary twice a day? Have they bullied you or insulted you? Did you know that none of the Slytherins here killed anyone?'

'They tortured us.' This time it was a Gryffindor. 'Last year. You don't know what it was like. You weren't here.'

Potter rolled his eyes. 'Yes, I was pole dancing in France.' 

Draco couldn't help the snort but covered it up with a cough just as Potter became serious again. 'You all were threatened to torture each other by the Carrows. Either point your fingers in the right direction or don't point at all. This alienation of Slytherins and blaming them for everything that happened is no different than Voldemort ostracising muggle borns. No one is asking you to befriend them but this kind of behaviour will not be tolerated further.'

Potter didn't wait for their response. He turned to Draco, took his chin in his hand and lifted his wand to Draco's swollen and bloody face. He locked eyes with Draco once before whispering, 'Episkey.'

Draco's injuries healed with a crack and snap as Potter slithered his arm around his shoulders and walked them to the eighth year table. He forced Draco down in between himself and Finnigan and piled his plate with food before pushing it towards him.

'Eat. You look like you are starving,' he said, pouring some soup into his own bowl.

'Thank you,' Draco whispered, shocked into gratitude and something that felt like affection.

Potter smiled wider at that and in another absolutely astonishing gesture, knocked their heads together. 'No problem, now eat.'

Down the table, Ginevra Weasley and Lovegood were in a conversation with Daphne and Millie. On his right, Blaise, Longbottom and Weasley were chatting about the new single from the Weird Sisters. Opposite him, Pansy and Granger were being painfully awkward until finally they both snickered when they reached for steak at the same time. Potter was complaining about his Transfiguration essay to Dean Thomas on his left and Headmistress McGonagall had moved to the podium and announced that she was scrapping the system of house tables from the great hall, informing everyone that they had to mingle or else.

Deputy Headmaster Flitwick had deducted fifty points each from Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff and Hagrid and Firenze toasted to Potter. Draco was, however, deaf to it all. He was stuck in that timeless moment when Potter smiled at him.

He now knew how to define it. Change. That was what this was.

In the occasional bouts of lucidity he had the past year, when he was not obsessing about the result of the war, Draco had found himself obsessing about the aftermath. The changes that would be brought forth seemed to range from working for the Ministry brewing illegal potions and teaching Dark Arts at Hogwarts if Voldemort won to either grovelling in poverty, famished, desolate and lost or locked up in Azkaban for life if the Light side won. Therefore to Draco, this outcome of the war was unexpected to say the least.

The touch of change had always carried with it a sensation of dread in the past. But now it appeared to contain an inexplicable elation that whispered of hope. If the post war atmosphere included Lovegood, Granger, Longbottom and the Weasleys backing him and Potter leaning into Draco as he unconsciously ran his fingers through the mess at the nape of Potter's neck, then change definitely wasn't something to be feared.

Since he was completely lost in experiencing the new touch, only Blaise noticed that Draco's wrist was still in Potter's grip.

There will be more fluff in the coming days. This was onlymeant to lay the foundation for it.

[pulaasul]

Siriusly Healing

Days have passed since Sirius had surrendered himself to Billy's custody, he was currently under hospital arrest by the Ministry for having escaped a prison facility, to which the Ministry agreed not to send him back.

Ao3 I FFN

----

Days have passed since Sirius had surrendered himself to Billy's custody, he was currently under hospital arrest by the Ministry for having escaped a prison facility, to which the Ministry agreed not to send him back.

The hospital in question was St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. The reason for Sirius's incarceration in the said hospital was to treat his mind from the constant attacks by the dementors, alongside treating him for other ailments that were caused by being incarcerated in Azkaban.

"So, how are you doing Mr. Black?" William questioned as he sat on the chair next to the supposed Death Eater.

"How do muggles respond to that question – Peachy," Sirius shrugged. "I'm just happy that I'm out of that hell hole."

"Aren't dementors dark creatures?" William tilted his head. "Why is your ministry using them?"

"Blame the purebloods."

"You called for me Padfoot?" Remus stated as he stood behind William.

"Yeah, could you get a pet for me Moony?" Sirius requested. "I want to get that Weasley boy a new pet, you say Pettigrew was his pet before."

"The Weasleys called the rat, Scabbers," William supplied.

"With his arrest…"

"He escaped," William corrected. "Fudge says otherwise."

"Seriously?!" Sirius exclaimed. "Does the Ministry ever do anything right?!"

"In any case, with his escape, Ron doesn't have a pet and I kinda owe him for that."

Remus merely raised an eyebrow at the admittance.

"I think you find yourself indebted to a lot of other people Sirius."

"Why do you say so?" Sirius challenged.

"First, you owe one Neville Longbottom an apology, you had Hermione's pet steal the passwords the boy was having trouble committing to memory."

"The Longbottoms That's right!" Sirius exclaimed. "What happened to them?! Dumbledore had James and Frank hide their families due to something that Dumbledore doesn't want to state, at least to the other members of the Order."

"Shortly after the attack on Potters, your cousin, the Lestranges, and Crouch's son used the Cruciatus curse on them, in an attempt to find Voldemort. "

A few of the people present flinched upon hearing the Dark Lord's name.

"Barely anyone had a clue as to what happened, of course, the attackers didn't get any answers."

"Where's the kid staying?"

"Neville's been staying with his grandmother ever since."

"What about the victims?" William asked. "The Longbottoms?"

"They're still alive," Remus answered. "Although they lost all their sense of self, can't even remember their past, some would say that their continuous exposure to the torture curse has rendered them insane."

"The Longbottoms suffered a fate worse than death."

"Is it okay if I visit them?" William questioned. "I'd like to pay my respects, and see if there's some hope for them."

"William, the Cruciatus curse was used on them, like the other two unforgivable curses, there's no counter-curse for it." Remus shook his head.

"You never know," William offered. "Billy and I just discovered the existence of magical beasts and people in the Philippines, a country south of Japan. Besides, the way I see it, the Longbottoms still have a chance at recovery, when there's life, there's hope."

"If that's the case, you'll need Augusta Longbottom's permission, she's Frank's mother."

"So? Who's the other one that I owe an apology?"

"Who else? Mcgonagall!" Remus raised an eyebrow. "I swear, your stunt with stealing the passwords Neville listed has scraped a lot of years from her life."

"It was that bad?"

"Can't say I blame the Deputy Headmistress." William offered.

"Why is that?!"

"Padfoot, before the reveal that Pettigrew was living his life as the Weasley's pet rat, you were touted as Voldemort's right-hand man."

"What?! That title belongs to Bellatrix, that madwoman."

"Even still, everyone was under the impression that you were the Potters' secret keeper and you supposedly told your master of their whereabouts."

"From what I heard, it doesn't help that your grief-stricken rant was counted as an admission to the deed." William chimed in.

"Naturally, every staff member of Hogwarts panicked at your stunt. Remus sighed.

"It's not like I had any intention of hurting anyone else." Sirius pouted.

"In any case, I'll buy Ron an owl, I feel sorry for their family owl, it looked like it's seen better days." Remus chuckled.

"What can you tell during that night, Mr. Black?" William questioned.

[lowkeysaurus]

Queen of Mean ; Part 2

summary: a recap of y/n’s escapades through the first two movies... before we get into the real story. pairings: harry potter/reader warnings: n/a notes: for the sake of the story, some things are not as they were in canon. an example of this, is that dumbledore appears significantly younger than how he is in the movies. Simply, I write him to be a slightly older version of Jude Law!Dumbledore.

Copyright Disclaimer under section 107 of the Copyright Act of 1976, allowance is made for “fair use” for purposes such as criticism, comment, news reporting, teaching, scholarship, education and research, thereby I do not own the rights to any of the characters shown in the below writing.

- SORTING CEREMONY - You remember it as if it were yesterday. Because you lived so close to the castle, you obviously didn’t have to take the train ride there- although, as it was part of the experience of being a first year, you did have to take the boat ride across the lake. Arthur and Flynn had previously assured you that you would see them on the other side, especially as they taught A History of Magic and Muggle Studies respectively, and those were both classes that were mandatory to take for the first two years. During the boat ride you’d become friends with two other girls, Aquila Crane and Lyra Prewett. Aquila was a very pretty, dark-skinned girl who wore her hair straight- you weren’t sure if it was a weave, extensions or her natural hair, and hadn’t felt like asking in the end, either. Lyra was also ridiculously pretty, with fairer skin, though not pale; and wore her natural hair proudly. They were boisterous girls, but that was fine, it was nice to have girls around for once. It went unspoken, but there seemed some sort of unspoken respect for each other through you all, as you quickly learned that Aquila’s mother was an auror who had been murdered, dare you say it; during the blast that had killed that boy, Peter Pettigrew. Lyra’s father had been Gideon Prewett, and upon learning that you’d wanted to start gushing about that story that Flynn had told you before- about how it took five Death Eaters to kill Gideon and his brother. They had both been great wizards. And then it came time to be sorted rather quickly. As soon as the doors flung open you immediately began searching for your cousins, and quickly found them, along with their grandfather. Flynn and Arthur sat on either side of Uncle Albus, though you’d have to start calling them by their surnames now; Professor Dumbledore, and the Professors Warren. There was a seat beside Arthur empty that you assumed to be the stern Professor McGonagall’s, and that sounded quite fitting, considering she happened to be Deputy Headmistress. You tried very hard to ignore the sorting ceremony, not wanting to spoil your mood when you heard their names, but even you were curious what house the heroic Harry Potter would be placed. It came as no shock that Draco was a Slytherin, your cousin’s entire line had been, but when it took almost two minutes to decide for Harry, your interest was piqued- and then the hat let out a mighty roar of “GRYFFINDOR!” You had immediately decided that you didn’t want to be a Gryffindor. Lyra was a Gryffindor like her father and his brother, and their father, and his father and so on, and she looked mighty proud of herself, was that tears in her eyes?; however Aquila had been sorted into Ravenclaw. Previously, it wouldn’t have struck you that she was pretty, but that was evidently stereotypes seeping in that no pretty girl could be clever, too. It wasn’t until after a Zabini, Blaise (who was a Slytherin), that you were called. The last person, as if that wasn’t daunting at all. The entire hall fell silent upon hearing the shaky “Black, Y/N” that escaped Professor McGonagall’s thin lips. You could feel each student and teacher’s eyes on you, and it was terrifying. You felt as if you were vibrating where you stood, however the encouraging gazes of each of your relatives, Flynn, Uncle Albus, Arthur and even Draco; pushed you onward. You lifted your skirt slightly above your knees as you ascended the stairs, and eventually you turned and sat on the little stool, and the hat was placed on your head. Its voice filled your head and you shook slightly, but otherwise remained silent and still. “Y/N Black, eh? It’s been a long time since I’ve had to sort any of you lot, Miss Black. And here, two possibilities; Gryffindor or Slytherin, you’ve certainly got the bravery for Gryffindor and the cunning for Slytherin, although I’m afraid to say you might be a little lacking on the kindness for Hufflepuff, Miss Black.” it mused, and you might have been offended if only you didn’t think it were true. Ever since seeing Harry Potter at Diagon Alley you’d been raving, to put it frank. Gerard had gotten fed up with it after less than a week.  “The only question is, which do you want to be in?” it asked, and suddenly your heart stopped. The hat was very smart with what it said and what it asked, and it had just asked you the hardest question there was for you to answer. It was as if it were asking ‘Do you hate Malfoy or Potter more?’ and that was not a fair question because blast it all, you couldn’t decide which of them was worse. So you said what you thought. “I don’t know.” only, your voice didn’t come out quite as strong as you’d have liked. It suddenly occurred to you that the entire hall was still silent, save perhaps various whispers. You could hear the soles of someone’s shoes as they walked up behind you and laid a hand across your shoulder, rough and calloused with thick, long fingers. Undoubtedly a man. “You may return to your seat, Professor McGonagall. I’ll stay with her.” and oh, Merlin. You didn’t want all of this fuss to be about you, you’d already come to terms with the fact that your very name would garner you more attention than you’d ever be comfortable with, and now Flynn had drawn even more attention, if that were even possible. You could hear McGonagall’s heels tap, tap, tapping as she returned to her seat.

“Pay no attention to them. it’s just us two, right now. if you must think of it as a... level of hatred for the two boys, to decide on your answer, so be it.” the hat spoke again, and you almost thought that everyone in the hall might be able to hear it. Oh, to hell with it. Your father had been in Slytherin, though nothing good ever came of being in that forsaken house, and your uncle had been a Gryffindor, not that you liked to think much of him and his affiliation with the man who killed your father. In the end, you decided on Gryffindor- but only for Lyra, you told yourself that night as you tried to fall asleep. For Lyra, and Flynn, and Arthur. - MIRROR OF ERISED - You followed Harry and Ron there the night before, under your own invisibility cloak. You’d seen the portrait open when they left, and stuck on your cloak to follow the sound of feet noisily slapping against the cold, stone ground. It had led you here, and after they’d left, you’d decided to look in the mirror yourself. You know, out of curiosity, just to see what you saw, since they both saw different things. You saw your parents, too. The sight had caused tears to gather in your eyes and you had nearly sobbed then and there, but you refused. This would be the only memory you ever had of them, although they weren’t truly there, and you couldn’t spoil it by crying. You’d seen you living at the cottage with your cousins and your parents. You saw your father wrap his arms around your waist and your mother lean her head on his shoulder, and your cousins smiling with their hands on your mother and father’s shoulders too. Explainable, really, why you would come back the next day- only this time, you walked in to see your Uncle Albus. With a name like that, you could see why Aquila, who had grown up with her muggle grandparents, had thought he’d look like some old man with a long, white beard and sparkly robes. But no, your Uncle Albus didn’t look that... daft. He was a tall man, with a short, bushy grey beard with a patch of white on his chin, and short grey hair that might have been blonde or brown once. His hairline, admittedly, had seen better days however. He wore golden, circular spectacles on the bridge of his nose, and he had large, kind blue eyes that peered through them with a gentle smile on thin lips. He wasn’t large around the middle, either, even after eating so well at Hogwarts for his extensive teaching career. He wore a blue three-piece today, with oxfords, and his grey-blue coat hung over his arm, the same colour hat in his hands. For his age, he still looked rather young. Aquila had been shocked, and you’d simply chuckled, but thinking back- if you knew your Headmaster was over one hundred, you’d be under the impression he looked like Merlin himself, too. But you didn’t have time to speak, for as you took off your invisibility cloak, Albus began speaking to someone else- and oh, that was Harry Potter. Here again? Two or three nights in a row, you supposed. You stood off to the side and let them talk. it was evident he was more interested in the boy than you anyway, you thought with a frustrated huff. Uncle Albus’ eyes flickered back to you as if he’d heard the thought, but he said nothing, and neither did you. "So," Uncle Albus started, slipping off the desk to sit on the floor with Harry, "you, like hundreds before you, have discovered the delights of the Mirror of Erised." Albus looked particularly deep in thought as he said that, leaning forward so that his back was hunched and his elbows rested on his kneecap, chin in hand. "I didn't know it was called that, Sir." Potter mumbled, and you snorted. His eyes flickered back to you, he looked, with his frazzled hair, as if he’d been struck by lightning in that moment- wide eyes and messy, and all that, and he seemed vaguely irritated at your presence. You smiled. Albus shot you another look, and your smile dropped, but even still you were glad you’d managed to irritate the great Harry Potter, even if it wasn’t as much as his mere presence enraged you half the time. If looks could kill, you supposed the Killing Curse would be shooting from your Uncle Albus’ eyes right about now. He returned to talking to harry, either way. "But I expect you've realized by now what it does?" "It -- well -- it shows me my family--" Your heart stopped. it shouldn’t have been that much of a shock to you as it was, you knew of his parents and how they’d died, it was part of the reason you loathed him so very much, but as your blood turned to ice in your veins it struck you that perhaps you and the boy with the lightning scar were more similar than you’d given your money’s worth for. "And it showed your friend Ron himself as head boy." he knew more than he let on, your Uncle Albus. It was his school, it had been his even when Dippet had been Headmaster- students tended to look to him for advice even when he was just the Defence Against The Dark Arts teacher. "How did you know -- ?" "I don't need a cloak to become invisible," Uncle Albus spoke gently. He stood then, gracefully as he was, and began to move about the room, heel touching the ground first and then rolling onto his toes with each step. "Now, can you think what the Mirror of Erised shows us all?" Harry shook his head dumbly, and you snorted. Both of them, this time, shot you a deadly look. "Let me explain.” Dumbledore began, leaning back on his heels and raising his head so that his face was pointed at the ceiling, as if he were thinking of just how to explain. His arms pulled behind his back and his hands linked, shoulders back as well. It struck you in that moment where each of your cousins and yourself had gotten your posture from. Finally, he moved again, and circled around Harry slowly as he spoke. “The happiest man on earth would be able to use the Mirror of Erised like a normal mirror, that is, he would look into it and see himself exactly as he is. Does that help?" oh. Albus smiled as if he knew that suddenly it had clicked in both of your heads, and it occured to you that in that moment, he wasn’t talking to just Harry potter, but also you. His smile seemed to grow. Harry spoke up, he sounded unsure beyond belief, but he voiced what both of you in that moment had been thinking. "It shows us what we want... whatever we want..." "Yes.” Albus nodded, and then stopped at Harry’s right side, tilted his head slightly to the right, raised his eyes to the ceiling and hummed slightly as he said, “And no.” “It shows us nothing more..” he continued on, finally explaining properly. he’d always had a tenancy to beat around the bush, hadn’t he? Sometimes you wish he wished he wouldn’t speak in riddles, although it quite added to his, eh, grandpa charm.  “or less than the deepest, most desperate desire of our hearts.”  and there it was, that explanation you’d been waiting diligently for, but he continued on, elaborating on points here and there that perhaps neither of you understood. “You two, who have never known your family, see them standing around you. Ronald Weasley, who has always been... overshadowed, by his brothers, sees himself standing alone, the best of all of them. However!” and he stopped with a jolt, you wondered if he was going to topple forward. “This mirror will give us neither knowledge...  nor truth. Men have...” he paused slightly, sighed, and continued. “wasted away before it, entranced by what they have seen, or been driven mad, not knowing if what it shows is real or even... possible, for that matter." “The Mirror will be moved to a new home tomorrow, and I ask you both not to go looking for it again.” suddenly his voice was stern, and any fragment of a smile he might have worn had left his face, to be overshadowed by a grim look, the corners of his mouth gently downturned. “If you ever do run across it, you will now be prepared. It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that. Now, why don't you put those cloaks of yours back on, and get off to bed?" Harry stood up, and you, who had already been standing, simply moved to place your cloak over your head when you stopped, the other Gryffindor’s voice pulling your attention. "Sir -- Professor Dumbledore? Can I ask you something?" and of course, curiosity would win you over, for you find your head turning to look at the young Headmaster and the Chosen One with barely concealed intrigue. "Obviously, you've just done so," Uncle Albus replied with a strained smile, as if he knew what question was coming and was dreading it. "You may ask me one more thing, however." "What do you see when you look in the mirror?" You sucked in a breath. You knew of the stories, most of the Wizarding World did, and though these days it was rather common knowledge that your Uncle Albus was gay, he still didn’t like to talk much about it- sensetive memories, you supposed, from a time when he’d had to hide his sexuality so heavily that he’d married a woman, Genevieve Prewett, and had children with her. Gerard refused to speak about it almost as much as your Uncle, and you knew that was because his father had been very... conservative, and had been rather ashamed of his father’s sexuality- had gone as far as to wed a Malfoy woman rather early in his life to escape him, actually. You wondered whether Genevieve had known, and if she had, what had she thought. "I? I see myself holding a pair of thick, woolen socks." You both stared, nearly dumbstruck. He, because it was rather a silly thing to see, and you because you knew much different."One can never have enough socks," said Dumbledore, as if to solidify what he’d said, though his gaze turned to me slowly. He didn’t look quite so happy now as when we’d first entered the room. "Another Christmas has come and gone and I didn't get a single pair. People will insist on giving me books."

[violet-knox]

Conflict of Interest

Part 1

Pairing: Reader x Snape

Summary: Fed up with the dangers the new Muggle Studies and Defense Professors cause, you storm into the Headmaster’s chambers, hoping to convey your concerns, but when the conversation takes a turn you don’t expect, you are left unsure of what to do. 

Prompt: “Give me a reason to stay!”

Warnings: Angst

Word Count: 5036

A/N: So I saw this prompt and got this image stuck in my head. I tried to ignore the urge to write and focus on my studies, but I caved (obviously). I had to pause writing for finals but I’m back and pretty happy with how this turned out. Anyways, thank you @moonlight-thestral for the prompt and for the writing challenge, it was a lot of fun to do (and a great distraction stress reliever) and I hope to participate in more in the future. I hope you enjoy it! I may or may not do a part 2 who knows 

~

The harsh sound of your shoes clicking against the hard-concrete floors of Hogwarts echoed down the empty corridor leading out of the Great Hall. The students had all been instructed to return to their dorms, escorted by their Head of House, all except those injured in the duel that had taken place not moments ago. Those less fortunate lay hanging between the thin veil separating the living from the dead were taken to the infirmary as Madam Pomfrey worked overtime. 

You’d stayed back to help clean up the mess left behind. Pools of blood reflecting the twinkling stars from above by student and Death Eater alike. It was really in this moment you’d come to truly appreciate Mr. Flich and his adequate ability to keep the halls of this great castle so clean without the use of magic. You pitied him really, always struggling to steer those around him from the sad truth of his less than magical abilities with the unreasonable expectation to keep up the pristine condition of a school so large. Others presumed he filled his time chasing Peeves, or punishing some less fortunate students caught after dark, assigned the task of cleaning without the ability to simply flick their wand and watch the dust clear off the hanging portraits or the trail of mud left behind by students. But the truth was much more bleak than that.  

Perhaps that’s why you found yourself repairing Slytherin’s broken table and the crumbled pillars lining the walls, listening to a bitter old man mumble under his breath in the far corner as his cat eyed you, sitting upon the head table, providing a less than helpful vitality. Or perhaps it was your last attempt to gather yourself before every thought you’d bottled up this year burst out of you like confetti. But, alas, a moment alone, away from the madness, had done you no good, that much was clear as you found yourself unable to walk at a pace less resembling that of a graceful peacock and more of a tiger chasing after its prey.  

A duel. That’s what the Carrows were calling it rather than what it really was. A feeble attempt at an execution. A mere display of power from the Death Eaters who’d invaded the school that employed you over the past few short years, provided you with a home, a sense of safety. Where was that shelter now? Where could you, or anyone for that matter, seeking a place away from the danger of falling at the hand of a Dark Wizard run off to? Surely not here. Not anymore. 

It seemed like just yesterday you’d received a letter from Dumbledore asking to chat over tea and discuss the possibility of sharing a classroom with Professor McGonagall. It had shocked you at first; the offer he made was one you’d never imagined receiving. You were well aware the Deputy Headmistress had too much on her plate, trying to balance her duties for Dumbledore with the needs of the Order, all while teaching a core subject at Hogwarts. It would be too much for anyone to handle, so it wasn’t much of a surprise to hear they were searching for someone to ease her workload and teach Transfiguration to the younger students. What did take you back was the fact that Dumbledore had come to you for the position. You’d never taught before and you’d barely passed your N.E.W.Ts in the subject. You were hardly a fit candidate for the job.    

Of course, it became abundantly clear after a few short minutes chatting with the old Wizard that the reason you’d been considered was because of the glowing recommendation given by none other than Severus Snape himself. The cunning Head of Slytherin, the fearful Potions Master of Hogwarts recommending you, a simple saleswoman bouncing from any shop willing to employ her. Teaching at Hogwarts was naturally a much better career choice than what you had going for you at the time, but you couldn’t help but feel underqualified, like you’d cheated the system, all because of the love that blossomed between you and one of their most admirable professors to teach in a century. 

Nevertheless, you’d been assured you had what it took to guide the students of Hogwarts and sure enough, you had quickly found yourself loving your job. You cherished the look on your students' faces when they managed to transfigure a match into a needle or switch the position of their quill and parchment. And the best part was, you got to retire each night alongside Severus. No more coming home to an empty house. No more restless nights because you had no one beside you. You had each other, and it only strengthened your relationship despite the fact you’d kept it hidden from everyone, except from Dumbledore of course. But he was gone now. You needn’t worry about your little secret spilling without your knowledge, you had the power to publicise your relationship and yet, you stayed hidden. In fact, it seemed as though it had been hidden so well, you wondered at times if you were even still together. Separate chambers, separate visions, separate futures, separate lives. What was left to share?

Finally, you arrived at your destination; the Headmaster’s chamber, a place you no longer felt welcome, but you had to be here. You had to voice your concerns. If he’d listen to anyone, it’d be you. 

Hand over the knob, you closed your eyes and took in a deep breath. One final chance to do this without a head filled with rage. Still it was no use. Your anger stayed bubbled at the surface, ready to burst. Reluctantly, you twisted open the door, the creaking of hinges making your presence known. 

There he was, sitting in his armchair, arms folded under his chin liked he’d been impatiently waiting for you to come home for hours. You stood frozen, examining the heavy lines between his brows and under his eyes that formed over the last few years. Finding the courage you needed, you quickly shut the door, ready to give him an ear full only to have your thoughts snatched away from you. 

“Don’t.” His tone was flat, and you suddenly understood why students were always so terrified of him. “I already know what you’re going to say.” Your mind went completely blank, everything you had been planning to say, all the lectures you wanted to give him, had suddenly disappeared, evaporated as if he’d performed the vanishing charm, like he’d stolen the words right off your tongue, keeping them as his own. 

“Oh?” Your words may be gone, but your rage, making itself apparent, clear as day, certainly made up for that fact. You made your way over and stood behind the couch, adjacent to where he sat. “Well don’t keep me waiting then,” you placed your hands on the soft fabric of the sofa before you continued, “Please Severus, do enlighten me. What is it I’m going to say?”

He eyed you before pushing himself to his feet, making his way around the armchair to face you. He stood there a foot taller than you and it was only then you’d notice his chest had been heaving, no doubt his blood boiling as his heart worked overtime, trying to make up for whatever it was pumping through his veins causing that bloodshot in his eyes. He was angry, that much was clear. But there was something else weighing him, something else driving him to clench his fists shut. 

“You’re going to tell me that I shouldn’t have let what happened today get as far as it did. That it’s somehow my fault, that I should have stopped them.” Words spilled from his mouth, each one carrying a louder acoustic than the last. All he’d ever wanted was to make something of himself. To be something more than the half-blood living in muggle poverty. That need intensified when he met you, wanting to make you proud. But it seemed all he’d ever managed to do thus far was fail and disappoint you.  

“And why didn’t you?” He was right. He knew exactly what you wanted to say and he knew exactly what was troubling you… because he felt it too.

“You know why,” his voice dropped a few octaves as his eyes narrowed. Was he talking about his position as a spy? Would he really let such a thing disrupt his morals? Would he really let innocent children take the fall just to keep suspicion off of him?

“You’re Headmaster Severus, you have the authority to tell them off,” you tried to reason with him, tried to knock a bit of sense into him, hoping to remind him he had power now. He was no longer a simple Potions Master, but the Headmaster of Hogwarts. He had the ability to make real change to the school. Under You-Know-Who’s command or not, it just wasn’t acceptable for him to stand there and watch the world burn around him when you knew he could do something about it.

“Thank you (Y/N) for enlightening me of my position,” his sarcasm stung. You hadn’t expected such a sharp comment from him in a heated moment such as this. 

“Don’t give me that tone!” you spat back, index finger pointed straight at his chest as you would your wand. If he was going to shoot at you like that, you had no issue shooting back. “It’s not my fault you don’t know how to do your job.”

“How to do my job!?” his voice rose with yours, “Need I remind you that I am the reason you even work at this school in the first place!” His tongue burned as the words escaped his lips. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt you, but that defensive part of him, that part James Potter brought out all those years ago, just sprang up when he’d feel threatened, like a butterfly changing the colour of its wings to blend into its surroundings. 

“Then perhaps I should just relinquish my position if it’s so tainted.” You fought back tears. Not because of the acute strain carried by his words, but because you actually meant what you said, and it hurt to think about leaving his side at a time like this. But what would you do here? You were absolutely powerless staying as a part-time teacher. Worse than that, you were forced to play pretend every day, to act as though you were beneath those who’d chosen the Dark Lord’s side. 

You loved Severus, you did, but what he was doing, it just wasn’t something you could encourage any longer. If you left Hogwarts, you could join whatever was left of the Order, help in any way you could on the front line of the battlefield, hunting down Death Eaters. But to sacrifice all you had with the man you’d fallen so deeply in love with would be an absolute tragedy. He was something special, what you had with him was special. Whatever it was that made him so mesmerizing, you just knew you would never find elsewhere, and that simple fact was why you held on so long. Why you felt it worth one last shot to stay with him and try to make sense of the mess of a life you were now living. 

“Severus, those children could have died. Longbottom almost…” your gaze dropped to the floor, remembering the beating that poor boy took, all because he had stood up for a young Ravenclaw against those savages. “You have to make them stop.” Desperation emulated in your voice. Your last chance to try and steer Severus to help your students. You had to make it count. 

“I can’t make them do anything without jeopardizing my position with the Dark Lord, you know this!” he pressed on those last few words as if it would end the conversation. But you weren’t done. You weren’t giving up just yet. There had to be something he could do, anything to help ease the suffering reminiscing through the school. He hadn’t even tried to discuss options with you and instead had gone straight to dismissing your concerns. All you wanted was to know he’d at least grazed the possibility of telling off the Carrows or replacing them entirely. All you wanted was to see that the man you’d fallen in love with was still alive in there somewhere.

“So you’ll just stand by and watch them kill innocent children!”

“Don’t be dramatic (Y/N). No one’s died, I’ve made sure of that,” and it really wasn’t an easy task to accomplish. Not with the friends Potter left behind running around the castle, breaking into his office, essentially begging to give the Carrows an excuse to sentence them to death. They were truly testing the boundaries of the Death Eaters, one Severus wasn’t sure he’d manage to keep them from breaking even if the culprits were Pure Bloods, the Carrows had become so restless, it just didn’t seem enough to keep them at bay. 

“Longbottom came close today!” you exclaimed. How easily he’d seemed to have forgotten the events that led you here. “You saw what happened! And you just stood there!” You searched his eyes, hoping to find some sort of regret, anything to tell you he understood his actions today were unacceptable. But you found nothing. “He’s a student of Hogwarts and is under our care! Under your care!” 

He couldn’t deny the truth bleeding from your statement. He knew it was his duty to protect the boy, no matter how many times he spoke out of term in class or snuck about the castle. But it wasn’t his job as Headmaster, it wasn’t even the orders Dumbledore barked at him, even from beyond the grave that bound Severus to the obligation of keeping Longbottom and those delinquents safe. It was the same reason he was here now, willing to play the villain, willing to risk everything, his life, his career, his future with you. Redemption. Forgiveness. All for the simple mistake he’d made as a young ignorant boy, betraying the one good person in his life at the time. 

“That’s not fair-”

“No it’s not fair! It’s not fair the students have to live in fear. It’s not fair they’re being tortured as punishment for speaking out of terms or struggling to perform a spell,” your voice carried despair as you continued, “It’s not fair that we, as professors, are powerless to stop it! It’s not fair that I have to sit here as your partner, pretending everything is alright when we both know it’s not!” 

What was he supposed to do? Tell you that the reason he simply stood there today was because the toll put on him was so great that he’d frozen when Alecto drew her wand, blasting a spell of his own creation into the crowd of students? That he’d been so taken aback by the abrupt action, he didn’t react in time to keep the children from harm? That Longbottom had paid the price for his brief moment of dismay because the candle he’d been burning at both ends was fizzling out. 

No one said it would be easy. No one said it would be a simple task and of course it didn’t turn out to be. But never in his years had he imagined a scenario like this. He knew what he signed up for the moment he turned to Dumbledore, begging him to save Lily. And when he was asked to play the spy a second time, he didn’t blink an eye because it was the right thing to do, because it’s what Lily would have wanted. He accepted the pain that came with the responsibility of the job, he bit his tongue when Dumbledore asked too much of him. But what made the weight he felt so much worse, was finding love and letting it die all for the mission of taking down the Dark Lord. 

“Why are you talking to me as if I’m unaware of these things? You think I like the way everyone looks at me now? Sixteen years I spent working alongside those people and they all look at me like I’m some… traitor.” The accusations weren’t all wrong of course. He had killed Dumbledore (under his orders), throwing him off the astronomy tower. If only they knew the truth. “And you think I haven’t noticed the tension between us? How you practically flinch every time I walk into a room. You think I enjoy seeing those kids suffer? I. DON’T!”

You felt your heart painfully skip a beat as he shouted at you, but you stayed collected, firmly planting your feet in the hopes it would keep you from falling to pieces. Had he really noticed all those changes? You had to keep up appearances in public, but had you really kept up your guard on the rare occasions you’d find alone time together? You’d told yourself it was lack of time. Between classes, patrolling the halls, Severus’ never-ending duties, you never had time to see one another, confide in one another like you used to. But those were simple excuses, they were a mere facade for the truth; you no longer felt the need to be around him, to be with him. 

Straightening your back and lifting your chin, you took in a deep breath, slowly exhaling before you calmly continued, “Then do something about it.”

“I’ve done everything I could. I’ve sacrificed so much.” A brief moment passed as you watched his shield break, complete despair seeping through those heavy washed out black eyes of his. Years under Dumbledore’s order had completely washed out the small twinkle you’d loved so much when you first met, and you suddenly felt a great deal of sorrow for him. You’d never given much thought to the strain he’d taken over the years. How could you when he’d stopped talking to you about it? It’s better you don’t know, he’d say, It’s too much for you to handle. 

Severus turned his back on you as he stood there, his head hung low as he felt himself finally letting go. Just one quick moment of weakness. It’s all he needed. Let me have this. A tear slowly trickled down his cheek as he tried to pick up the pieces of his soul that never seemed to fit together anymore. He wanted to blame Dumbledore or Potter, even the Dark Lord, but he had no one to blame but himself for the predicament he’d gotten himself in. 

“I didn’t want this. It wasn’t supposed to be this way,” his voice so low, you could barely hear the words stumbling out of his mouth. You’d never seen him like this before, so fragile, so vulnerable, so defeated. You let out a heavy breath, wondering if you’d gone too far, if you’d pushed him too far.

When he took the teaching position at Hogwarts, he thought becoming Headmaster one day would help fulfill his need for a sense of purpose, that it wasn’t a dream out of his reach. He thought perhaps he’d become McGonagall’s deputy Headmaster and later become the second Slytherin to be pasted the goblet and responsibilities of such a high valued position. That he’d finally earn the respect from the wizarding world he craved so much. The world would know his name as a reputable Headmaster, one that would challenge the reputations of his predecessors. 

Not once would he ever imagine this reality as the legacy he’d leave behind. Severus Sanpe: murder, traitor, merciless, cruel... Death Eater. Was that all he had to his name now? Was that all he’d made of himself?

You took a step closer, gently placing a hand on his shoulder, feeling the slight vibrations under your palm as his body shock. He was holding back, that much was clear. All this time, he’d been hurting, suffering alone when you thought he simply didn’t care enough to help the students. Shame swept through you as you thought back to all the times you’d shut him out, ignored his feelings or avoided spending time with him alone.  

“Severus…” His body went stiff as you placed your free hand over his waist, hoping to show him though you hadn’t been there to listen to him before, you were willing to now. The air felt coarse, a feeling you’d gotten used to when being around him. It had to change. Everything had to change if you were to make this work. 

Wrapping both arms around his narrow waist, you pressed your lips to his shoulder as you hugged him. Words were not enough for this moment. Nothing you could say would ever compare to the affection you offered him now.  

“You should go,” he spoke softly, his voice filled with regret, his words taking you back. Just when you finally felt as though you’d made some sort of progress, here he was pulling back, retreating into the cave he’d banished you from months ago. 

“Severus-” you took a step back, leaving your hands over his waist before he suddenly walked forward, pushing himself away.

“Just go!” he shouted, standing parallel to the armrest of the couch. His lips twitched in a frown, his brows furrowed in anger, but his eyes betrayed him, the pain he felt still floating through his black orbs.  

“No!” You turned and walked around the couch, taking a seat, anchoring yourself to the room. “We’re not done.” You placed a hand on the empty spot beside you, hoping he’d take the hint, but as he’s arms crossed, you could tell that shell he’d formed wasn’t coming down any time soon. 

“Need to yell at me some more?” He shot a brow at you as he shifted his weight to one side. 

“Severus!” your voice stern as if speaking to one of your students. You let out a huff of air in frustration, trying to come up with another snarky comment to shoot back, “ I-I-I’ve said everything I’ve had to say,” you couldn’t let his words get to you now that the dust had cleared and you understood how he felt, you had to show him he could trust you. “I want to be there for you, Sev! Please!” 

“You’ve made it abundantly clear these last few months you want nothing to do with me.” He kept his expression laying neutral, but you could tell he felt resentful towards you, his right hand squeezing his arm, pushing it closer to his chest. 

He was wrong. You cared for him, you wanted to be with him, but you’d let this war, this mission get in the way, clouding your opinion of him with animosity and fear. He played his part so well in front of others, it had become hard for you to see past the mask he wore. 

“That’s-That’s not true! I love you-”

“Stop,” his arms finally unfolded as he took a quick step forward, hunching over so his face was closer to yours. A move of intimidation he used all too often. “Stop lying to yourself. Stop lying to me!”

“Don’t do that!” you pushed forward, raising your voice, matching his pressuring stance.  

“Do what? Tell you the truth?” he placed his hands over the armrest, and you watched his knuckles turn a paler shade, something you didn’t think possible. 

“Don’t push me away! You always do this! You always push away anytime you open yourself up!”

“I never should have opened myself up, don’t you understand that! If I do so, I become vulnerable, and anyone I care for-” he stopped, letting his sentence trail off in fear that if he said it out loud, it would come true. The thought of once again losing the only positive thing in his life, was one he could never bring himself to consider. He had to protect you, even if that meant pushing you away. You were oblivious of course, but he’d given you his heart and he had to keep it safe. It was all he had left, the only thing he still valued. “I can’t have that on my conscience.” he looked away, pushing himself back to his feet. 

The Dark Lord had taken Lily from him, taken his love, his life, what would stop him from doing so again if he deemed it appropriate? Absolutely nothing. After twelve long years of willowing alone, an empty shell seeking to find a soul, he’d finally found one. He’d found you and he couldn’t go through it again. He’d die this time if it happened again.  

“It’s not your job to worry over me. It was my decision to stay, my decision to be with you despite-” you’d been talking so fast, desperate to make him understand, you hadn’t noticed the words you let slip your tongue. Stopping in your tracks, you let out a soft breath as your back straightened, looking him straight in the eye, “despite everything.”

“That was before...before all of this.” Why would you choose to stay now after everything? You had to have regretted the choice you’d made to stay with him after he’d informed you of what he was now that everything had gone so sideways. Surely this wasn’t what you’d signed up for and he wouldn’t blame you if you decided it was too much, that he wasn’t worth the effort. 

“This. This situation we are in, doesn’t change anything. It shouldn’t change anything, and I’m sorry I let it.” You could see him relaxing as you spoke. Finally, that damn wall was coming down. “But Sev, I’m here for you. You just have to talk to me, you just have to let me in, and we can figure all of this out together.” Scooting towards him, you reached over the armrest and grabbed his hand, holding on tightly as he let his fingers hang weakly. He couldn’t let himself falter and lean into the crutch you’d provided him with all these years. He had to be strong, to be resilient to keep you safe. “I can help you with the Carrows, with the burden you carry.”

Severus watched as your eyes begged for that piece of him he’d kept locked away from you all these years. He fought the urge to curl his fingers as he felt your hand tighten around his. The need to open himself up rising higher the longer he stood there, stunned by your gaze, your touch, your affection. 

“No,” he pulled his limp hand away from you, letting his eyes wander, trying to fix on anything other than you. It hurt too much to look at you, thinking about you in his position, he could never let that happen. “That’s not your job and it’s-”

“Too much for me to handle?” you finished his sentence, knowing exactly where this conversation was going; exactly the same place as all the others you’d had anytime his life as a spy came up. “Maybe I should just leave then.” What was the point of staying on this carousel of empty promises and regretful remarks if it was never going to stop? 

You waited. Waited for the words of predilection to slip his tongue. Words you’d been hoping to hear all night, but they never came. It was a lost cause indeed. You’d been fooled once more into thinking you were special, that you’d be the one person on this planet he could trust. Perhaps you should have heeded his advice and ran away when he gave you the chance all those years ago. If you knew this is where every conversation would lead, that he’d never trust you enough to share his burdens with you, would you have stayed? 

Placing your hands on the edge of the sofa, you began pushing yourself up to make headway on your previous statement having run out of patience, when you heard his broken voice coming out as a whisper, a tone new to your ears. 

“Don’t go.” His eyes glazed with tears when he saw your notion to leave. He couldn’t let it end this way. He didn’t mean what he said before, he wanted you beside him. The only light he had in this sea of darkness, he couldn’t let it burn out. 

“Give me a reason to stay!” you shouted, finally pushing yourself off the couch completely. Your eyes desperately searched his as you stood, praying he’d take this chance to take back what he’d said. But once again, you were disappointed by the silence that filled the room. The ambiance dead around you as it had been these last few months. Was this really it? Was it over?

Severus’ chest heaved as he let out short panicked breaths as though he’d just chased a snitch halfway across the world, and in a way, you supposed he had. This relationship had brought you such euphoria in the past, neither of you quite realized how painful it had become as you both desperately tried to hunt down what you had before. Blinded by love, you’d both failed to see the toxicity you’d surround yourself with, tip toeing around one another, hoping the other wouldn’t notice the sudden shift in aura, pretending as though everything was as it once was. It was time you both opened your eyes to the truth; so long as this conflict existed, neither of you would ever be truly happy. 

“I can’t do this. I’m done,” you shook your head, his lack of words telling you all you needed to know, before heading towards the door. Severus watching your every movement, a ping piercing his heart each time you took a step away from him. The conversation was over, and you’d made up your mind. Reaching for the door knob, you gave it a tug and the door swung open. Turning your head, you looked back, the flame you both tried so hard to keep lit died down as you uttered the last two words he’d ever hear you speak before stepping out of the door, leaving your heart behind. 

“I quit.”

~ 

Part 2

[heartscfvalor]

Let’s Fuckin’ Recap Shall We

Canon Harry:

Son of Lily Evans and James Potter

Looks exactly like James but with Lily’s eyes

Has a lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead after Lily died shielding him from Lord Voldemort’s Killing Curse.

Sent to live -- and be abused -- by the entire Dursley family. Did not fully escape them until after Dumbledore’s death.

Gryffindor. 

Youngest Seeker in a century in Quidditch history. 

Reckless. Hot Tempered. 

Not magically inclined unless in Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Doesn’t take his studies very seriously at all; often has to mooch off of Hermione Granger’s work and sense of perfection in order to pass most classes.

Never becomes a Prefect, but he does become Gryffindor’s Quidditch captain. 

Has a stag Patronus. 

Astonishingly oblivious to most things. 

Gets into brawls if he has no choice, just, always ready to Throw Hands. 

Cluelessly bisexual. 

Absolutely despises Snape up until the guy dies. 

Loses his godfather, his uncle, and several others that he loves during the War. 

He gave Lord Voldemort a second change during the Battle of Hogwarts. 

Becomes an Auror after everything is said and done.

Harriet Potter AU:

Daughter of Lily Evans and Severus Snape.

Looks exactly like Snape, but with Lily’s eyes.

Has a lightning bolt shaped scar on her forehead over her right eye after Lily died shielding her from Lord Voldemort’s Killing Curse.

Sent to live with the Dursleys after the tragedy and is abused for most of her life by Vernon and Petunia, while Dudley is an ally for her.

Slytherin. 

Not all that interested in Quidditch; only ever joins the team if Draco begs her to in second year. 

Calculating. 

Logical. 

Very magically inclined; Potions is her top subject.

Harriet takes her studies incredibly seriously; she may be the Chosen One, and Voldemort may make an appearance every year, but that’s no fucking reason to slack off, and she gets very snappy with people who interrupt her study time.

She has a raven Patronus. 

Incredibly observant, and very charismatic. 

Her trauma makes her more withdrawn. If she ever has to fight, she never gets caught, nor does she get her hands dirty. 

Very aware of her bisexuality, she just doesn’t have time for dating. 

Becomes Slytherin’s Girl Prefect by fifth year; would have been competing for Head Girl against Hermione Granger if she hadn’t had to go on the run. 

Snape rescues her from the Dursleys after her first year; she idolizes her father and wants to make him proud. 

She’s able to save Sirius, Lupin, Tonks and Fred during the War. 

She does not give Voldemort a second chance during the Battle of Hogwarts, she aims to kill. 

After everything is said and done, she becomes Hogwarts next Potions professor if Severus lives and retires, or dies during the Battle of Hogwarts. When she is old enough, she even climbs the ranks to be Deputy Headmistress as Professor McGonagall’s right hand. Whether she herself becomes Headmistress of Hogwarts or not is a mystery.

I call Harriet an R!63 muse because, sure, she’s very loosely based off of canon!Harry. But her storyline is different, her personality is different. Except for a few similarities, Harriet is basically an OC. I expect y’all to treat her as such.

[theworststoryteller]

The living dead (Post s4 finale sad ficlet.)

There’s one thing we did not think about” Hecate muttered softly.

Ada was lying in bed, an array of tissues scattered across the sheets which the brunette vanished every so often. Her eyes were red and puffy while grey circles were engraved below them. On her nightstand, next to her glasses stood a mug filled with tea which had long went cold as it was left untouched. Hecate resorted to casting warming spells despite knowing her beloved wife was not going to touch it.

“What would that be?” the blonde questioned, blowing her nose.

“It’s...Geraldine” Hecate sighed “Someone needs to tell her. She has a right to know”

“You’re right” Ada nodded.

Hecate stood from her chair “I won’t be long” she lifted her wrist

“No” Ada placed a hand on her forearm “She was my sister. I should be the one”

“Are you sure? You’re not in a state to-“

“I’m sure” Ada shot her a gaze that didn’t grant room for objections as she rose, fastening the belt of her pink robe. “Plus you’ll be there if anything happens” _____________________________________________________________

Geraldine shifted in the portrait that had served as her glassy prison for the last three years. She placed her palm against the cold edge of the frame, suction being her only assistance in remaining balanced.

She had been laying there for hours, isolated from the outside world without a clue on what had ensued since Agatha had flipped the photograph that morning. She had soon came to conclude that a silencing spell was muffling her protests. Thus, she adjourned herself to the corner of the frame, fighting to tame the agony that was gnawing at her loins with great intensity. Her mistress always had a good reason for every single one of her actions. She had to remain reasonable. And if waiting blinded and muted was how she would be best useful in this so be it. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to.

She had to trust her although she didn’t quite understand how being in this state raised any less suspicions than visibly occupying the space by herself. She knew that deep down, Agatha did that to protect her. To prevent her from taking the fall as well if something was to go awry. And to seal her from bearing witness to a tragedy. And that tragedy had occurred, albeit elsewhere.

As her world stopped spinning and she stood on solid ground again, she was met with Agatha’s ever so calming gaze. The momentary flatter of elation and relief in her heart seized upon the realization that this was in fact the jovial headmistress. Only she wasn’t so jovial this time. The panic started to race through her veins at the sight of the expression of defeat that befallen on the youngest twin’s features.

“No” she shook her head violently as Ada fiddled with her handkerchief, pondering for a second longer on how to force out the words that were caught in her throat, refusing to be spoken.

“No” she muttered out loud this time as Ada gave Hecate one last look, seeking encouragement. But of course, she couldn’t be heard.

Her eyes shifted to the annoying deputy who looked paler than usual, looking despairingly for a sign of anger. But her expression was rather solemn than murderous. Merciful even. Confirmation of Geraldine’s fears as to the kind of announcement they had come to make.

Ada swallowed hard, as in pain and wrinkles appeared on her forehead “Miss Gullet, as you are aware, last night my sister left her place in the painting. You also must know of her intentions to take the school over. What you don’t know is the outcome of her plan. Agatha’s actions brought great pother to everyone as the lives and well-being of multiple people, including children were put at stake. Thankfully, the situation was resolved, and no one was harmed. However, Agatha…she was subdued.” She brought the handkerchief to her eyes as a tear escaped. Hecate placed a hand on her shoulder in concern.

The former spell science teacher’s stomach twisted into a knot as she fought her own tears. “There’s no easy way to announce something like this” the older witch regarded the deputy who must have repeated these words many times before. Now her hand rested over Ada’s as the difficult part was now coming “But I’m afraid something terrible has happened. Agatha-“ a sob interrupted her words “She’s no longer with us”

A scream tore through the redhead’s lungs,who up to that point cradled onto the hope that she had got this all wrong. Her heart shattered into a million pieces just like glass before her as she threw her first against it,violently. Her knees succumbed to her weight, weak.

She felt the gentle sensation of a fixing spell that restored the damage and her ability to be heard as pink sparkles blurred her vision. “Geraldine, despite the many differences that set us apart, I am aware that we both harbor great love for Agatha and offered your support through hard times, even if in unorthodox ways. I also know that Agatha held you in especially high regard. If there is anything that I can do for you, let me know and I’ll see what I can do to help”

She knew what this was: forgiving of all ill evil after one has passed. Post Morten clemency. She had tasted the bitter flavor of it before, when her father died and suddenly, all the condemn he had received while among the living turned to sympathy. It was disgusting back then and remained disgusting now. They had never loved Agatha. Not for who she really was. Not like she did. They loved the Agatha they wanted her to become. A false idea of who she was.

She didn’t want their pretentious help “I just want to know one thing: How...How did it happen?” she asked, not lifting her gaze.

“She sent herself to vanishment” she heard the potions’ mistress stating bluntly before she could be stopped.

New waves of pain shook Miss Gullet’s body. Grief was now mixed with betrayal. Her mistress had chosen self-destruction. It wasn’t an accident or the result of a duel. It wasn’t a death sentence. There was no one to blame, no one to hate for it. No one to show fury towards. She was gone on her own accord. Without caring about her feelings. And the worst part of it was that she had chosen this instead of returning to her.

Was it her fault? Had she failed to show her how much she meant to her? What was she meant to do now? What was her purpose in life now?

“I believe we should grand you some privacy” Ada sighed, squeezing Hecate’s hand before turning around.

The taller witch studied her for a second, hesitating before a flick of her wrist resulted in a black handkerchief materializing in the picture in front of her.

“I’m very sorry for your loss”

“I don’t need your pity, Hardbroom” she spat bitterly as the other retrieved towards the exit.

The deputy stopped in her tracks

“It’s not pity. I just know what it’s like to lose someone. Someone that means the world to you”.

And with that she transported herself away. Read and review on AO3

[dailyprophetnehqs]

Fear spreads through the wizarding community today, as what was meant to be a celebration turned into a disaster from the past. Albus Severus Potter, son of Harry Potter, the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and saviour of the Wizarding World, was murdered last night after triumphing over the other Septiwizard Champions. The circumstances of his murder are unknown, but the Department of Magical Law Enforcement are launching a full investigation into the murder. 

Due to the circumstances, Harry Potter, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, was unavailable to provide us with a statement, but we received this from his Deputy, Lany Finus, “Albus Potter’s death has come as a shock to us all, but we are working hard and diligently to find out what happened. At this time, we believe this is not connected to the Dark Arts and was a result of the Septiwizard Tournament. We ask the public to remain calm during this unsettling time.” 

Despite the Deputy's statement, The Daily Prophet had received inside information that the murder may not be as innocent as the Ministry are trying to claim. It is rumoured that Albus Potter gripped tightly onto a note, which was pried from his hands by Headmistress, Professor Minerva McGonagall. According to a reliable source, the note read ‘I warned you there is no escape from the past’. The source also reported that a similar message was carved into a golden egg, from the second task, warning that the Septiwizard Champion would be murdered, just like Cedric Diggory from the 1994 Triwizard Tournament. We contacted Professor McGonagall for a statement, but she is yet to respond. 

If the note is correct, then things can only get worse from here on. Will this be the return of the Dark Arts after such a long reign of peace? 

If you have any information on the tragic death of Albus Potter, please get in contact with us. 

[everly-kindred]

Everly’s Diary - Entry #31

Synopsis: Eve details the festivities happening around Hogwarts, and the spooky happenings that have occurred. 

Words: 3,698

Date: 27th of October, 2026

Dear Diary, 

Things have gotten really spooky around the castle now that Halloween is approaching. We did pumpkin carving, went trick-or-treating, had the Halloween Bash, and I threw a Death Day Party for the ghosts of Hogwarts! There’s also been some strange things happening, and I’ve had another vision. This time, it was scary. 

I’ll start with the pumpkin carving, which we did on Friday. I carved a pumpkin with some stars and a moon, drank cider and ate pumpkin pie, and all of that was quite nice. I got to carve with Bonnie and meet this pumpkin person she had made in artificer club. I’ve decided I’m going to start going to artificer club because this pumpkin person was amazing! He has a little pumpkin for a head, a barrel for a body, and brooms and sticks for his arms and legs. He can move around and is very silly! He even tried to carve a pumpkin of his own. 

During pumpkin carving, there was a lot of shouting. One Ravenclaw girl was throwing a fit and pumpkin guts at the professors. I can’t remember why. There was also Nora, a girl in my house, a third-year I think. She had this sign that said that carving was murder and said that if we carved pumpkins, we wouldn’t get presents from ‘the great pumpkin’ on Halloween night. I’ve never heard of such a thing! Eventually, she fled, but not before screaming, ‘MURDER!’ which caused an older girl, a Slytherin I think, to flee screaming like she was actually being murdered. 

That night, Bonnie and I went around the castle to do trick-or-treating (and she brought her little pumpkin person! She calls him a punkeen. He had his own little bucket to collect candy for Bonnie.) I didn’t want to wear my full costume until the bash, but I did wear the tights and hat from my costume, and a black sweater dress. We knocked on eighteen doors in total, and got tricked a few times! 

I started in the dungeons, deciding to go from the bottom of the castle up to the top - or I tried to, anyway. I think Professor Waldgrave’s door was the first one I knocked on. His door was tricked with spiders that crawl out and then vanish. I really thought they were real! The other door I knocked on down in the dungeons was the Ghoul Studies room. I got candy that time, but then when another round of students approached the door, they got attacked with water balloons… I, unfortunately, was in the crossfire and got wet. But at least I got candy! 

Next, we went up to the second floor. This really colourful professor gave us chocolate frogs, but they started multiplying until we were buried in them! I managed to escape, and they vanished, but not before I could splat one on her door! But then she came back out and gave us real chocolate frogs and chocolate wands. 

Then, we went to the tapestry corridor, where a really grouchy professor gave us candy. Bonnie’s candy eventually turned into a pair of dirty socks, which was disgusting, but my candy remained normal. After that, we went to the long gallery, which is where most of the doors were, I think. The first door we went to there was opened by a very kind looking professor with a round face and a dimple in her cheek. She gave us this pumpkin to open, and when we did, it exploded! Purple firecrackers and glitter in the shape of bats and orange, green, purple and black streamers flew out and got tangled in my braids! But then we managed to get actual candy from her, too. 

The door after that was Professor Banks’. I got some pumpkin-shaped candies from her, but then when another group went by, I guess they got tricked. The hall started to fill with the smell of stink sap! So we got out of there pretty fast. After that, we went up and knocked on Professor Rask’s door. I really do have such a problem with not staring at Veela, and she’s no different! Every single time, I always end up going all moony-eyed like an idiot. Anyways, she gave us candy that made our voices sound like animals, which was pretty cool. 

Bonnie and I stopped to talk and watched as some students got pranked by flying, screaming books that came from Professor Reuter’s room. We knocked on his door and got tea flavoured chocolates, which might be my favourite candy that I got that night! I’ll have to ask him where he got it! 

We went to the Mythology professor’s room next, and when she opened the door, there was this loud sound and this puppet fell from the ceiling! It had a huge face and looked kind of like a creepy dog or… lion with three eyes. It certainly gave me a fright! I’ll have to ask her about it at our next class, I know she likes to do a lot of stuff involving her homeland, Japan. Then, she gave us candies shaped like the pretty flowers on top of lily-pads. Bonnie says they’re called lotuses. 

Eventually, we found our way to the Defense Against The Dark Arts tower, which was probably where the weirdest encounter was. There was already a group of kids there before we got to the door, and when they knocked on it… The door sprouted eyes, and began crying really loudly and spraying everyone with its… tears? Anyways, we braced ourselves and approached the door, and when we knocked, it actually opened. There stood Professor Lane, and he was like… I mean… He had Christmas music playing? And was dressed like he was going out into a blizzard, and he had this board thing? Anyways he gave us these chocolate pie things that his wife had made. They were really good! 

We went up to the charms room next. Professor Idylwild gave us these Turkish delights that tasted like butterbeer, and they made me feel all warm. She also gave us these orange and cinnamon flavoured ones, and they made me burp fire! I told Bonnie I was being transfigured into a dragon. Wouldn’t that be so fun?

We got some taffy from Professor Green, and I took a bite of it, but… It made me all confused. Bonnie had to hold my hand for a while, because I didn’t know which way was up! I ended up throwing those taffies away. 

Then we went to the Hospital Wing, and got some lavender lollipops from Matron O’Rourke. After that, we used the clocktower to go down to the grounds, because I wanted to check the groundskeeper’s hut and the owelry. When we went to the hut, we got rained on by these rainbow candies and some confetti, and I swear I could hear Professor Eastwood laughing. But then, Professor Dracheblume came out gave us some candy. There wasn’t anything at the owelry.

We went up to the sixth floor and found Deputy Headmistress Blightly’s room. The door was sort of ajar, so we stepped in. Blightly looked like she’d been possessed, and we heard this voice and turned around to see a ghost who looked just like her! But then, the real Blightly started laughing and explained the ghost was her dead twin. 

At this point, Bonnie was wanting to trick someone in return. She said that when you get tricked and don’t get candy, you get to trick the professor in return! So Bonnie did the gemino curse on the wood of the door and stuck a note on it for the trick-or-treaters to only touch the metal knocker - doubly clever so that the students know, but the Deputy Headmistress doesn’t. If someone touches the wood, the door will multiply! I wonder what it looked like when Blightly discovered that! 

Next, we discovered Vikander’s door. When he first opened it, he tied the shoe-laces of my boots together! That didn’t stop me from knocking again, though, and when I did he gave me Feathersweet chocolates, and told me not to get myself killed…

Then we went down to the Muggle Studies classroom, and got some fudge rockets from Professor Hellstar, though he did try to give us bogie-flavoured candy first, which I, of course, threw away! After him, we found the flying professor’s door. He gave us a prank broom at first, that popped into snitch-shaped bubbles, but then after that, he gave us actual candy - also inside of these weird brooms that we had to break open. 

He was the last door of the night. After that, I went back to my dorms to count out my sweets and stash them away. All the candy I got actually saves me a trip to Hogsmeade, which is good considering I had to set up for the death day party, anyways.

When I woke up on Saturday morning, there was this blaring organ music playing. Apparently, it comes from the clock tower! I want to go visit it, but Aures sent me a letter begging me not to. It fills the castle with ticking sounds, weird raspy laughter, and music that reminds me of the Phantom of the Opera. I’ve also heard whispers that it’ll steal your voice if you touch it! Or I did, anyway, but this was all later proved to be unfortunately all too true. 

I had finished my pumpkin costume, which was fairly comfortable as far as Hallowe’en costumes go! I stitched it up with felt and orange thread and painted on it with black paint. I made a hat with the same felt and some stuffing, and then wore my matching orange and black striped tights. I also made some leaves out of green felt and used green thread to sew them into my tights so that they looked like vines. 

We all waited outside of the Great Hall when the time drew near. Everyone’s costumes looked brilliant! Aures dressed as a faun, I saw a few students who wore white with blood spatter, a lot of winged creatures (Bonnie went as a dragon) and I overheard Talula saying she was the queen of thestrals, or something like that. 

I’m not sure how, but the professors managed to turn the inside of the Great Hall into what I imagine the forbidden forest looks like - but with a lot more jack-o-lanterns. It was absolutely amazing! Like what Professor Gallo had done to the divinations room, but more spooky! 

The Deputy Headmistress and Headmistress O’Keeffe showed up together, and Blightly was wearing a suit and a mustache! The Headmistress was wearing a black dress, but… It was fairly different from her other dresses. More, uh, showy I suppose. She looked brilliant! 

I talked to a girl, a Gryffindor prefect,  I think, who was dressed like an angel. She spoke so softly, and seemed sort of… distracted. Like she wasn’t all on earth, which is a feeling I think I feel very often. She had asked me if I knew the theme ahead of time since there were so many jack-o-lanterns and I was dressed as one. I said I hadn’t, and she mentioned something about foresight… and then quickly said that most people don’t believe in that, though. I told her I did (I know it all too well) and there seemed to be some sort of… an understanding between us. 

After that, Levi approached me. He actually remembered me this time and thanked me for not covering my face up too much, since his memory is so bad. He came dressed as a ringmaster and showed me he actually had to write it down on his hand to remember what he looked like. I showed him my hand, which still had ink on it from when I was reading on Thursday. I write down page numbers on my hands if I don’t have a bookmark. That, names, important times, things like that. He seemed happy that someone else writes stuff down on their hands, too. I suggested he use a notebook to write things down, in case a professor tries to clean the ink or something with magic. I told him if he wanted to go trick-or-treating, we could go together, since he gets lost so easy. 

I ate cakes and drank punch, and danced until I got too tired. I tried to sleep, though I had a hard time. The organ kept waking me up, and that night, I had the vision. It was such a vivid nightmare, but I knew it wasn’t just a dream. I dreamed I was looking into the Defense Against the Dark Arts room and saw a class was happening. I saw students, but I couldn’t figure out any of their faces. Vikander stood at the head of the class. He was covered in blood and was laughing evilly. Organ pipes had burst through the floor and filled the room with this awful off-key sound. It seemed like I was going to go deaf, and it felt like I couldn’t breathe. And then there was a whirlwind, and I was watching one of the large statues in the school fall over, and crush someone underneath it. I couldn’t tell who it was, and I couldn’t get to them in time to stop it. I woke up crying. 

This morning, I went to the owelry and wrote the same letter to as many of my friends as I could think of. ‘Stay away from DADA, and keep your distance from the statues.’ Cheryl wrote back and told me I should go to the hospital wing and talk to a healer, and that everything would be fine… Because she doesn’t know that what I saw wasn’t just a nightmare. 

Bonnie helped me set up the Death Day party. We got some of the rotting pumpkins from the patch by Dracheblume’s hut, and from the patch the Hufflepuffs had grown over by the greenhouses. We went to the kitchens and got rotting fish and meats from the garbage, and bribed the house elves for the stinkiest cheeses that they had. Bonnie even transfigured some black buttons into ravens! 

Then, she used magic to hang up these black silk curtains in the dueling room, to really make it look spooky. We even threw some spiderwebs on them! Then, we set up two tables. One table full of the smelly stuff for the ghosts, because I read that they like it and fly through it because it’s the closest thing to eating, while the other was filled with some of the untouched food from the bash. Bonnie also transfigured some cool lights that looked like creepy hands coming out of the floor, holding lanterns. 

Bonnie talked to me about being a prefect and Head Girl, which made me wonder if I would ever be chosen to be one. I ended up telling Bonnie about my dream, my worries and the reason I wrote the letter. And… I told her that I’m a seer. And she believed me! She told me I should tell O’Keeffe or Blightly, and then she left to go to Hogsmeade with the other prefects. I left and got dressed in the outfit I had planned - black from my neck to my toes. A silky shirt with ruffles, and a skirt that went down to my feet with gold detailing on the bottom. I used black ribbons in my hair, too. 

Then, it was time for the Death Day party. I stood at the door and offered coffee beans to everyone, for them to stick in their nostrils to block out the smell. The room had gotten really gross smelling at that point, after all, and I didn’t want to chase anyone away.

At first, Bobby was the only living person who’d shown up. I saw a lot of the ghosts I was familiar with, and some I wasn’t… Like there was this one ghost who had a cat face and a tail! So she must have died by some sort of transfiguration or potions mishap, I imagine. She even had paws. There was also another ghost who was the Ghoul Studies professor a long time ago, and I think he was saying the organ took his voice. Another ghost I saw was one with a big bloody slit across his throat. I wanted so badly to ask them how they died, but I know that questions like those are huge no-nos when it comes to ghosts. They’re sensitive about it and all. 

 While we were at the party, an owl post announcement was sent that anyone who goes to the clocktower will be suspended, because of how dangerous the organ has become. I find this sad, as the clocktower is one of my favourite places to go. That, the wooden bridge outside of the clocktower courtyard, the owelry, the pitch… I’m sure there are others, but those are the first few that come to mind. 

The cat-ghost suggested that the organ is stealing voices because it needs a voice of its own. The professor ghost pointed out when another voice was stolen as well, because a new chord was played all throughout the castle. Through a little bit of charades, he told us that when the chord changes, it means a new voice was stolen. 

The bloody ghost - whose name I learned was Castiel - asked me why I wanted to throw all the ghosts a death-day party. I told him the truth, of course - that we’d been learning about ghosts in Ghoul Studies, and I wanted to be kind and show that they’re appreciated. He said that of course I’m a Hufflepuff, which I’m not sure if I should take offense to or not. I suppose not. There’s nothing bad about being kind. 

The professor ghost used charades to tell me he used to teach ghoul studies. I asked him a few questions about the Battle of Hogwarts and all that, and then noticed that he had a cat with him. They seemed very close. Imagine being so close with your familiar that they’re there when you die! I read that Egyptians liked to be buried with their cats, I think because they’re meant to be protective. It makes sense if I think about it since Puck has been very sweet and protective towards me. Whenever I’ve felt sad or homesick, he’s come to my side. 

Then the other ghost, Castiel, asked me to guess how old he was. His appearance suggested the victorian era. He said he was born in 1895, and told me to stay away from vampires. I assume that’s how he died, but I know better than to ask. 

Jane joined us at one point, said hi, and then left, Marigold and Anton also visited, and then Deputy Headmistress Blightly arrived. She asked if we could speak, so we stepped into the hallway. Well, speak is a funny choice of word, because she had lost her voice to the organ. So it was more like… I was speaking, and she was using her wand to write words in the air. At first, I thought maybe Bonnie had said something to the professor, but actually, it was Essa! I had sent her a letter as well, and Blightly began asking me why I’d told Essa to avoid Vikander’s class. I told her I was a seer and she… immediately believed me. Just like Bonnie had. I’m starting to wonder if the curse of foresight is real, after all. 

Anyways, I told her I had a vision in my dream, and she asked me to describe it, so I did. I told her about Vikander, the organ, the statue - everything. All the while, the organ was using the voices it had stolen to make creepy choir music, laugh, and basically create enough nightmares for me to last a lifetime. It even shouted! But then, it got worse…

It spoke to me in my mother’s voice… Called me Bumblebee, told me it needed me to go to the clocktower. I thought for a second that it had gotten her, that I had to go rescue her. Its voice pulled me like a fish on a line! If Professor Blightly hadn’t been there, I don’t know what I would’ve done… I might’ve run down there and lost my voice just like she had! She had to do a lot to convince me to stay put. It even made me hear my mother screaming, asking for help. I don’t think I’ll ever forget that sound. Essa walked me to the hospital wing so I could get a calming draught because the sounds were making me hysterical, and I also got a pair of the special earmuffs we wear when we handle mandrakes. Taking Cheryl’s advice, I also got a bottle of sleeping draught and dreamless sleep, because I sure as heck wasn’t going to fall asleep and not have nightmares without it. 

Essa mentioned having the ‘Sight’ as she put it, which I asked her about. She told me the future comes to her, which means… When Bonnie told me I wasn’t the only seer in the school, she was right. Of course, I told Essa that I also get the visions. It’s nice to know that I’m not alone.

So as you can tell, there has been a lot of good, and bad these past few days. Other than all of that happening, Bobby gave me his scarf, which was very kind of him because it was honestly freezing in the dueling room, surrounded by all of those ghosts. There’s something very… sweet and heartwarming about knowing that the scarf I’m wearing belongs to a dear friend. Honestly though, I felt like my fingers were going to fall off by the end of the party! I also sent a lot of pumpkin grams to my friends, but I haven’t gotten any yet. I wonder if I will. I think that’s all I have. My wrists hurt pretty bad and I’m completely exhausted, so I’m going to go to bed now, and think of what I want to do when Hallowe’en (or Samhain!) finally arrives.

Much love, Everly

About the Character: Everlina Rosemary Kindred is an imaginative Hufflepuff attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She keeps up with her magical journey through a series of diary entries, dream journals, and tarot readings, all documented for future reflection. Her diary is a small glimpse into her enchanted life, and her adventure into the wizarding world and all its splendors. If you’d like more information about Eve, visit her wiki page. 

About the Author: My name is Katherine! I am a 21-year-old Hufflepuff & Pukwudgie from Louisville, Kentucky. This page is my creative journey into the magical world, through the lenses of Second Life. Here I post diary entries, dream journals, and tarot readings all from my character’s perspective. If you’d like more information about me, visit my Flickr! 

[yahoder]

UNPOPULAR OPINON

Bellatrix Lestrange could have beaten Severus Snape in a duel. o:

1. “But Snape held off those professors!” Did he? In his brief duel with McGongall, they seemed about even, and Snape was definitely playing to win IMO. He fled when Flitwick arrived, realizing the Deputy Headmistress and former dueling champion would overpower him.

2. “Snape is a lot more serious and focused. Bella is erratic.” Is she? She takes charge of several situations in the books (Battle of the Department of Mysteries, Malfoy Manor), and is most likely a skilled Occlumens. And Occlumency requires the ability to control one’s emotions, suggesting she’s probably a pretty focused person.

3. “Snape knows more about the Dark Arts!” Does he? Bellatrix was trained by Voldemort, and between her escape in 1996 and death in 1998 she would have a lot of time to learn from Voldemort. It’s not like she’s out shopping at Diagon Alley and he doesn’t seem to being too much until he starts hunting for the Elder Wand. She may even have learned to fly; are we ever told she doesn’t know how to?

4. “Snape has knowledge in more subjects!” Does he? We don’t know this. For being a fan (and one of my personal) favorites, she really doesn’t have that much page time. We don’t know the full extent of her magic, other than the Dark Arts, dueling and Occlumency.

5. Let’s not underestimate just how much ass Bellatrix Lestrange kicked in Battle of the Department of Mysteries. By the time the Order shows up, she’s on of the Death Eaters who hasn’t been injured. She in relatively quick succession takes out Tonks (a young but talented Auror who was trained by Moody), Sirius Black (a universally recognized talent) and Kingsley Shacklebolt (easily one of the Orders best, most experienced duelers) and then manages to deflect a direct hit from Dumbledore. And in the book, she basically has Harry Potter cornered when Voldemort shows up. Her reaction times are so fast Harry can barely overcome them.

6. And in the Battle of Hogwarts, I know taking on three school girls isn’t exactly overly impressive. But thinking about it, taking on even three young (but incredibly talented) witches would be difficult; its a lot of spells to deflect and keep track of.

7. Also Molly Weasley beating Bellatrix Lestrange is some bullshit. :) She deserved a better death fight.

[silvokrent]

All in the Job - 1

In which Glynda contemplates submitting her two weeks notice.

Of all the responsibilities she held, courtesy of her numerous job titles—Huntress, Professor, Academy Liaison, Deputy Headmistress of Beacon—there were some that Glynda could have done well without.

Which wasn’t to say she resented her job—far from it. Ruthlessly ambitious almost to a fault, Glynda relished a challenge, and would have never contented herself with anything short of what passed for the layperson as occupational masochism. Hence why she’d spent the majority of her career fine-tuning the ability to juggle her professional obligations, which included everything from organizing interdepartmental faculty meetings, to sorting out whatever problems Ozpin couldn’t (or didn’t want to) deal with that day. She had distinguished herself early on as a multitasker with a sharp mind, uniquely qualified for the task of corralling her students and putting out the (sometimes literal) fires that were as much a staple of the school year as the homework and detentions were.

No. Glynda enjoyed a challenge. And working at a school for trained killers presented no shortage of that. Destroying Grimm, dismantling crime syndicates, foiling terrorist plots: all occupational hazards, most with which she had minimal qualms.

The caveat, she’d discovered, well into her tenure and past the point of no return, was the political nature of her job. Something that Ozpin had conveniently “forgotten” to disclose when she’d first signed her contract.

Years later, and she had a pretty good idea as to why.

With no small amount of effort, Glynda dug through her handback and produced the necessary documents for the door greeter. “I’m here representing Beacon Academy, as is my employer,” she said. And that was as far as she got before she sneezed.

The porter recoiled, his face creased in disgust. That expression deepened when she none-too-subtly swallowed down the mouthful of phlegm that had dislodged itself from her lungs.

He held the invitation and license at arm’s length, delicately pinched between two fingers. “I should remind you,” he said, “that all guests in attendance are required to leave any weapons outside the building. That includes—”

“Yes, yes,” Glynda snapped, “I’m well aware. As you can see, I’m unarmed.” Unless one happened to look up her dress and notice the crop holstered against the inside of her leg, but really, what was the point of arguing semantics? “I hardly pose a threat to anyone here.”

“Not unless you cough on the buffet table,” he muttered, and Glynda made sure to fix him with her patented Disapproving Teacher Scowl. The porter flinched at the steel in her gaze.

“Your belongings.” He was quick to push the offending items back into her hands, then brush his palms down the front of his vest. “Enjoy the party, Professor Goodwitch.”

I most certainly won’t. But she kept that comment to herself. Glynda inclined her head, once. “Thank you for the—” and she stopped to give a dramatic intake of breath, lips curled in the beginnings of an unmistakable sneeze. She watched through half-narrowed eyes as he pinwheeled backward, nearly tripping over himself to escape the blast radius. Panic, quickly replaced with indignation, colored his face as Glynda delicately pinched the bridge of her nose. “False alarm,” she assured him, in a falsely-cheery voice. And with that said and done, Glynda turned and strode inside.

She blamed the vindictiveness on the store brand cough medicine, half of which she’d downed before leaving her apartment; then, as an afterthought, had shoved the rest of the bottle into her handbag. Given the circumstances, it felt warranted.

The reception, while not on par with the ostentatious standards upkept by Atlas’ and Mistral’s elite, was still headache-inducing. Embroidered, fabric banners canopied the ceiling, fluttering gently whenever the waitstaff scurried by. Backed against the far wall she spotted the aforementioned buffet, and it certainly was a spectacle, wafting clouds of steam from the assorted dishes and hors d'oeuvres. The guest tables were subject to the same lavish treatment, with ornate centerpieces encircled by dozens of candles that flickered whenever disturbed by the motions of a passing guest. Glynda scoffed. Of course they’d have no problem with fire hazards, but gods forbid she be permitted to walk around with an unbrandished riding crop.

And there, tying it all together, branded on every wall lest any of them forget why they were here, was Vale’s coat-of-arms.

The soirée was about the self-congratulatory pomp for the councilors as much as it was a display of gratitude for their sponsors. Election cycles ran on campaign promises as much as they did on bribes and charity, and not a single attendee was under any delusions otherwise. The post-election parties were little more than a formality at this point, a tradition kept alive because someone, somewhere, years ago had convinced themselves that these little displays of wealth and power were enough of a testimony their newly-reformed government wouldn’t relapse into an all-consuming bloodbath.

Glynda snorted aloud, only to regret the gesture when it sent her into a coughing fit.

As Ozpin’s intended successor, she was expected to attend. Sick or otherwise.

At least, she mused to herself, when Ozpin took leave of his office—by death or retirement, though almost certainly the former—she would be spared from the nightmare of having to run for reelection. It was an intentional quirk legislated by the King of Vale in the aftermath of the Great War: not only were the leaders of the Huntsmen Academies automatically granted Council seats, but they were immune to term limits and had to be nominated by a coalition of their peers. Decades later, and it was still something that politicians liked to moan about when gossip grew stale or Ozpin had done enough to piss off his colleagues.

Which was the second reason why she had dragged herself through the snow and consigned herself to this torture: because Ozpin had asked.

She thought “asked,” but truthfully, “begged” was more appropriate.

Ozpin was a great many things—cordial, shrewd, altruistic, and relentlessly devoted to his school—but even his patience had limits. The downside to his position was that while it granted him the political influence of a councilor, it also meant that he was working two jobs under the guise of one. Which wasn’t to say that Oz wasn’t qualified for the task—far from it—only that he was a Huntsman first, politician second. Training fledgling Hunters to defend humanity was something he was peerless at, and never a day passed where Glynda didn’t admire that trait, the circumstances of his curse notwithstanding.

What made these parties (and his job) so unbearable was that his colleagues were a bunch of donkey-faced bastards.

Ozpin disliked them for trying to interfere at Beacon. The other councilors despised him for being untouchable. Frankly, it was a miracle he hadn’t shoved his cane up their nether regions. And unlike Glynda, whose absence would be noted but otherwise inconsequential, Ozpin didn’t have the luxury of taking a sick day. She wasn’t merciless enough to leave him trapped here making small talk in this bureaucratic hellscape, so instead, she’d sucked up her cold and come.

A server extended a tray to her, and without thinking Glynda took the offered champagne flute.

“—gone too far this time! You’ve overstepped your boundaries, and I refuse to sanction this lunacy.”

“Then I suppose it’s a good thing I don’t require your permission to proceed,” came the mild reply, “given that the school is under my jurisdiction.”

Speaking of which.

With a long-suffering sigh, Glynda moved on autopilot toward the conversation, the throng of people around her parting as she brushed past. There was an equal likelihood of that being due to the thunderous expression on her face as it was the mucus that she could feel glistening above her lips. For one treacherous moment, she lamented the fact she’d chosen a sleeveless dress. Her nose was starting to itch.

She spotted them by the windows. Ozpin stood with his left hand braced against the silver pommel of his cane, a half-empty coupe in his right. The man across from him showed his age, slightly hunched and half-balding, and with a rather unfortunate gut that the tweed suit and pleated shirt did nothing to hide.

“I fail to see why this has you so distraught,” Ozpin said. He tipped his head to one side. “We’ve used this procedure for years, and to my knowledge no one has voiced any objections.”

“Sometimes,” the councilman growled, “I wonder if you even bother to read the requisition forms your staff submits before you sign off on them. Otherwise, you’d fully understand my ‘objections.’”

“I review every document given to me, as you well know.” Ozpin raised the glass to his lips, his expression betraying nothing. “If you’d be so kind as to enlighten me on the issue, perhaps I can help mollify those concerns.”

“‘Concerns,’ he says.” The councilman sneered. “As if importing Alpha Beowolves is a mere trifle, and not a matter of kingdom defense!”

Glynda lurked just beyond Ozpin’s periphery. She’d bail him out if it became necessary. For now, though, she leaned against the nearby column, content to watch her friend verbally assassinate the other man.

“That’s what this is about?” A hint of surprise colored his inflection, and Glynda recognized it for the façade that it was. They would’ve been stupid to not anticipate a bit of an uproar over that particular request, which was why she’d offered to have it submitted during the tail-end of the elections. This time of year, overworked and success-drunk politicians tended to say “yes” to the mounting paperwork stack on their desk just to make it go away.

Burrell, bless his shriveled black heart, was apparently the exception.

“We’ve successfully handled live Grimm transport for years,” Ozpin pointed out. “Need I remind you that procurement is necessary for my students, so that they have ample training fodder?”

The other man’s complexion paled by a shade or two. “You’re telling me,” he said, in a disquieted tone, “that you regularly pit your students against high-level Grimm variants reserved for licensed Huntsmen?”

“Of course not.” Ozpin sounded amused. “We have Boarbatusks for that.”

Burrell’s jaw clenched.

“The far more dangerous subspecies, however, are necessary for the research conducted on-campus,” Ozpin amended. He regarded the wine in his glass. “Of which the Council has been made well aware in the past, so why the sudden protests? The containment facilities are up to code. If you’d like, I can produce the documents from last year’s inspection—”

“I don’t know what I find more disturbing,” he said. “The fact that you equate transporting Alphas with Boarbatusks, or your cavalier attitude regarding civilian endangerment.”

It was subtle, and to the untrained eye would have gone unnoticed. She didn’t miss the way Ozpin’s grip tightened on his cane.

“The risks involved haven’t changed, Burrell. Merely your overestimation of them.”

“Entirely unnecessary risks at that,” Burrell spat. “You run a combat school, not Merlot Industries. You’re supposed to be killing Grimm, not u-hauling them into Vale just so your staff can dissect them."

“The now-defunct Merlot Industries was the only global corporation with a scientific agenda concerning Grimm. Since their disbanding, there has been a gap in the field of Grimm research. Our ability to fight them is contingent on our understanding of them, which is why the school’s laboratory work is just as important as its field counterpart.” His expression hardened. “And if you would be so kind as to not equate Beacon Academy with that organization.”

“Why?” Burrell asked. “Because you think that what you’re doing is any saner? Care to explain to me the difference?”

Ozpin rested his glass on the table to their right, both hands now firmly clasped over the cane. “The difference,” he said, “is ethics. Dr. Merlot was a Machiavellian cultist whose obsession with the Grimm led to him no longer following safety protocol, so he could acquire more specimens faster. My staff adheres to a set of strict guidelines when conducting research, so that we may prevent catastrophes like Mountain Glenn.”

“It took the kingdom years to recover from that.” The councilman motioned with his drink. “The losses we endured at Mountain Glenn were substantial, never mind the resources we funneled into that project only for them to be wasted.” He went to take a draught from his glass.

“I’m relieved to see that your concerns about the lien weren’t misplaced. For a moment, I feared you might actually be worried about the casualties,” Ozpin said.

Glynda watched as Burrell proceeded to choke on his drink.

Ozpin waited until he resurfaced from his glass, his cheeks flushed and flecked with beads of wine. He glowered over the rim of his coupe, to bet met with a carefully-neutral expression by Oz.

“What,” he asked, “did you just say?”

“I could be off my mark,” Ozpin acknowledged, as though he were theorizing on the end of a charming novel, and not lampooning his colleague. “But as I understand, you spoke out at length against how much of Vale’s annual budget was allocated to my school. I believe the phrase you used was ‘indiscriminate black hole of lien.’ And while I can agree on a need to review funding distribution, strangely, you didn’t seem to have any suggestions for where that money could be spent otherwise.”

The councilman’s expression was slowly morphing through the entire color spectrum, from a sickly off-green to a now livid red.

“When one of my teachers first sought approval for capturing and transporting Grimm,” Ozpin continued, “we went through a significant amount of red tape. A committee was even formed to not only redefine Grimm trafficking and establish special research permits, but to investigate the motive behind the request. As I recall, you headed that committee.”

“I assume you’re getting to a point.”

Ozpin went to retrieve his glass. “I find it strange,” he admitted, “that after everything else we’ve brought to the school—Ursai, Creeps, Nevermores—you would suddenly object now. A more suspicious man might go so far as to note how coincidental it is that the approval period for the request coincides with Vale’s fiscal review. A timely opportunity to boycott the request on the premise of its potential dangers, and then take the lien that was diverted from us and spend it elsewhere. Some might go so far as to call it a conflict of interest.”

The look Burrell gave him was incendiary. Glynda was surprised Oz’s lapels hadn’t begun to smoke.

“This is all conjecture, of course. I would hate to implicate you in something so scandalous and unequivocally untrue, so shortly after you secured your Council seat. For your own sake, it may be in your best interest to defer to my judgment on the matter, lest more suspicious men subject you to their scrutiny.”

Ozpin raised his glass in a toast.

“You have no right—how dare you—I would never—” Eloquence deserted him. The councilman made a peculiar gargling sound in the back of his throat, like a blender full of rocks. “My concern,” he ground out through clenched teeth, “has and will always be the welfare of Vale’s people. If you think I’ll allow you to jeopardize that by letting one of your crackpot fool teachers hoard Grimm in the city—”

There was a subtle shift in Ozpin’s demeanor. Glynda stiffened. “The professor who oversees them is a highly esteemed and capable Huntsman. It is thanks to his work that major crises have been averted. You would do well to remember that.”

Indignation (and alcohol) did a lot to deaden a person to social cues, and Burrell continued to talk like a man who didn’t care if he woke up with a knife between his ribs. The intensity of Ozpin’s stare didn’t waver. “I remember him now. Fat bloke, rowdy, prone to self-aggrandizement. Rather hard to expect someone like him to manage Grimm when he can’t seem to manage his weight.”

Coming from the man that resembled a walrus in a suit.

But the councilman had found Ozpin’s trigger, and was twisting the knife with each word that left his mouth. “Yes,” he said, his speech slowing, becoming more deliberate. “Your subordinates were always a peculiar lot. For a prestigious academy, your staff does little to uphold its reputation. Trigger-happy celebrities with no sense of decorum”—he gestured to Ozpin’s green suit—“whose willingness to gamble with public safety borders on masturbatory, given how much of your career involves suicidal thrill-seeki—”

“Good evening, councilors.” Burrell jumped. Ozpin gave his own version of being startled, a fluttering tap-tap of his cane against the floor. His expression thawed somewhat as Glynda took up the spot to his left, the tension easing from his shoulders. “Burrell, I never had the chance to congratulate you on your reelection. The Council seat is lucky to find itself occupied by you once again.”

Burrell squinted at her, as if gauging the sincerity of her words. She could practically feel Ozpin’s eyebrows receding into his hairline, and she discreetly stepped on his foot.

“I appreciate the sentiment,” he said at last. He didn’t seem to begrudge the change in topic; not when it meant having a chance to talk about himself. “These last few weeks have been monstrously busy. One wonders how I’ve found the opportunity to rest. You would think insomnia were a prerequisite for the job.”

“A necessary evil. One that we’re all familiar with,” Glynda agreed. “Our work doesn’t sleep, and neither do we.”

“Which is exactly why we need events like this. To indulge and relax. An escape from the stress of our everyday lives.”

Or a source of additional stress, depending on who you asked.

“Not for all of us.” Glynda turned to Ozpin. “I was looking for you, actually. We need to discuss the travel arrangements for that upcoming mission in Atlas. I’m afraid it can’t wait until tomorrow.”

Ozpin made a noncommittal noise. “Too right you are, I suppose.” He accepted the arm she offered him, threading it through hers and giving Burrell the faintest inclination of his head. “Enjoy your evening.”

She ignored the glare that followed them as she steered Ozpin across the room. Waited until they’d put enough people between them before she leaned into her friend’s side.

“Play nice,” she murmured.

Ozpin sighed. “You say that as if I have no self-control.”

“I noticed they let you through the door with your cane. Were you planning on using it, or did I only imagine that look on your face back there?”

He carefully extricated himself from her grip. His arm free, Oz went to take another sip from his glass, his expression the closest she’d ever seen to guileless. “They wouldn’t part an old man from his walking stick, would they?” he mused.

Glynda fought the urge to roll her eyes. “If you keep talking like that you’ll only give Burrell another reason to call for your resignation.”

She didn’t miss that brief flicker of dislike. “Over my dead body.”

“He’d probably find that quite agreeable.” Out of habit, she went to pinch the bridge of her nose, only to belatedly peel her fingers away from the cartilage. Glynda pursed her lips at the tacky feeling. To her surprise, she suddenly found a napkin being pressed into her hand.

“Here,” Ozpin said. She murmured her thanks as she blew into the napkin, while Ozpin looked on, his face etched with worry. “You look like death warmed over, Glynda.”

“That’s putting it charitably.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t stay home.”

“Don’t change the subject,” she snapped, even as she felt the last dregs of chastisement slipping from her. Another sigh, this one a concession of defeat, as she wadded up the napkin and discarded it into a nearby bin. “Did you honestly think I wouldn’t come?” she asked instead.

Ozpin averted his gaze, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. “I merely wish you’d taken tonight to get well. Not that I don’t appreciate the company, only that I’d rather it not come at your expense.”

“It’s a cold, Ozpin, not the plague. I’m not about to be carried out on a stretcher by paramedics.” The sniffle at the end of her words belied her somewhat. “Besides,” said Glynda, ignoring the persistent itch climbing up the back of her throat. “Someone needed to be here to make sure you didn’t ‘accidentally’ maim one of your colleagues.”

The indulgent, vague amusement faded from Ozpin’s voice. “I think I’m capable of being out in public without a chaperone.”

Glynda stood with arms akimbo. “Even I wanted to individually break all of his fingers. I can only imagine what indecent thoughts were going through your head.”

“Then perhaps those thoughts are best left unsaid, for your peace of mind.” Which was about as much of an admission as she’d expected to get out of him, but even so, she wasn’t entirely surprised to see him frowning at his drink. “I’ve spent a lifetime having less-than-flattering comments hurdled at me. There’s very little one can say to me that I haven’t heard before, and even less that can genuinely upset me. But to so blatantly disrespect my staff, and expect me to stand by and tolerate it…”

Wordlessly, Glynda took her champagne flute and tipped its contents into his glass. The gesture of solidarity wasn’t lost on him, and he offered a grateful, albeit humorless smile.

Ozpin inspected the carbonated liquid. “There isn’t enough alcohol in this building,” he said wryly, “that can get me tipsy, let alone drunk.” Nevertheless, he polished it off in three long swallows.

“The downside to having a robust Aura and a magic liver,” Glynda said. That managed to elicit a soft laugh from Ozpin.

“The enhanced resistance to illness and injury is helpful,” he conceded. “Certain other side effects, however, I could do without.” He hailed one of the waitstaff and exchanged the empty coupe for a crystal goblet, fizzing with a burgundy liquid that Glynda couldn’t name. “Beacon’s medical staff are convinced I’m some sort of biological anomaly.”

“Which is code for, ‘they didn’t teach me this in graduate school, and now I’m questioning my education because the headmaster’s medical chart scares me.’” Curse or not, Ozpin’s ambiguous immortality had its share of perks: greater stamina, considerable pain tolerance, and an increased damage threshold for his Aura. It couldn’t protect him from everything, but as far as combat failsafes went, you couldn’t ask for much more.

Apart from asking to not be cursed in the first place, but thousands of years later and the gods didn’t seem inclined to budge on those terms.

“I think most of them have adopted the mindset of ‘the less I know, the better I’ll sleep at night.’ Something that I can’t entirely fault them for,” Ozpin added. He drained nearly a fourth of his glass in a single take. Idly, she wondered how many more of Qrow’s bad habits he planned on picking up.

“Is that actually doing anything to you?” Glynda asked instead.

He swirled the wine in his goblet. “I can become inebriated, if the alcohol is potent enough,” he said at last. “Or if I drink a considerable amount. But I doubt the drinks here have a high enough ethanol concentration to affect me. And as much as it would get me out of…mandatory socialization…I’d rather not spend the night running back and forth to the restroom.”

“If I didn’t know any better”—she did—“I’d say you were trying to get drunk from the placebo effect.”

“Trying,” said a familiar voice from behind, “and failing miserably by the looks of it.”

There was a delayed reaction on her part, where she turned to face the owner of said voice and found the neurons in her brain momentarily forgetting how to synapse. Brought on by a sudden bout of mental fatigue, and the slow-acting cough medicine that was probably doing more harm than good at this point.

“I know the suit looks bad, but you don’t need to give me that look,” he said in mock-affront.

Lucidity returned, and now Glynda partially understood the source of her muddled brain’s confusion. “What are you doing here, Qrow?”

Qrow rolled his eyes. “Nice to see you too.”

If the setting itself wasn’t throwing her off, then his attire certainly was, a worn khaki suit with gold accents that hung loosely around his shoulders and waist, perfecting the scruffy homeless look he had going. His presence here was dissonant enough, without having to contemplate his outfit and who he must have mugged to get it.

A sudden, nagging realization hit her.

Glynda rounded on Ozpin. “You liar. You thought I wasn’t coming.”

His composure faltered, if only for a heartbeat, smoothed over with the image of ageless tranquility and concern he’d long ago perfected (and she’d long ago stopped falling for). “That hardly seems like a fair accusation.”

She leveled him a flat look. “Branwen,” she repeated. “What are you doing here?”

Qrow took a swig from the flask that he’d somehow smuggled past security. “Plus one,” he said, with a sidelong smirk at Ozpin.

He had the grace to look sheepish.

“I can’t believe you.” Glynda couldn’t decide what annoyed her more: that he was so terrified by the prospect of being stranded here, with no one for company except the voice in his head, that he invited Qrow Branwen; or that she’d been replaced with Qrow Branwen. “After all the things I have willfully put myself through over the years for you, did you seriously think that a party was going to be my breaking point?”

“I can’t believe you volunteered to do this,” Qrow said, and Glynda didn’t imagine the brief flash of alarm on Ozpin’s face.

“Meaning?” she asked.

“Meaning you need to step up your negotiation tactics,” Qrow told her. “Because you’re out of your mind if you seriously think I agreed to do this out of the goodness of my heart.”

Tonight was clearly meant to test how much lower she could set the bar where her expectations were concerned. So far, it had yet to disappoint.

“You bribed him.” It wasn’t a question.

“I promised to compensate him as a thank you for going out of his way and doing me the favor,” Ozpin clarified, though he paused to give Qrow a look of mild exasperation. “Something which you seem determined to make me regret.”

Qrow shrugged. “My discretion costs extra. Not that I’m opposed to bargaining,” he said, with a grin that immediately sent a conga line of unholy thoughts through Glynda’s head. A hint of color crept into Ozpin’s face that had absolutely nothing to do with the alcohol in his hand.

She sighed. “I’m already feeling nauseous from the postnasal drip. Please don’t make me vomit, or I will aim for your suit.”

“It’s not mine, so be my guest.” He plucked at one of the sleeves. “A little splash of color would probably liven up the palette anyway.”

She watched as Qrow toyed with a loose thread on the cuff seam. “I know you disdain formalities, but even you have standards where appearance is concerned. You couldn’t have bothered to show up in something less—”

“Offensive?” Qrow offered. He flashed her a razorblade smile, taking the time to indulge in a stretch that showcased the outfit’s shabbiness. “Sorry I didn’t rob a boutique for the occasion. I had to borrow a suit from Tai at the last minute. It’s not like I keep fancy clothes lying around in my closet for formal events, at least not since—”

Not since Summer’s funeral.

An uncomfortable truth, one he clearly hadn’t meant to stumble upon so unwittingly if the way he cleared his throat was anything to go by. A hand reached up to comb through unkempt hair, an idiosyncrasy Glynda recognized for what it was: unease.

It was immediately countered by a second idiosyncrasy: a bracing nip from his flask, which he then pocketed as though nothing had happened.

“Y’know”—Qrow tossed an accusing look in Ozpin’s direction—“maybe if my boss paid me more I’d be able to afford a nice suit.”

“I’m noticing that tonight’s conversations have a theme,” Ozpin said. He was tactful enough to follow Qrow’s lead. “If you take issue with your salary then you’ll have to negotiate with your current employer. Though as I understand it, Signal pays its teachers relatively well.”

“Because my teaching gig isn’t a cover for my super-secret field job,” Qrow said, and he gave Ozpin a light jab in the shoulder. “Come off it, Oz. Like you don’t have a say in what goes on over there at that madhouse.”

“Madhouse?” Glynda asked, at the same time Ozpin said, “Last I checked, Signal has a headmaster that thankfully isn’t me.”

“And she regularly consults you on course content and staffing, which is the reason why I work there. Q.E.D.” He folded his arms over his chest. “You ever had to teach a classroom full of prepubescent kids? It’s like herding lemmings—the attention span of a rodent mixed with suicidal tendencies. You’d think they all have hero complexes with how often they try to throw themselves into the Grimms’ mouths.”

“If I recall, two of those ‘lemmings’ are your nieces,” Glynda pointed out, and she glared in Ozpin’s direction when he had the audacity to smile into his drink. Because enabling the man responsible for impressionable children was such a fantastic idea.

Again, he shrugged. “They’ve got good heads on their shoulders, and between the two of them I’m not worried. They’re not about to go do something stupid; Tai and I made sure of that. The rest of their classmates, on the other hand…” Long fingers reached up and kneaded at his temples. “You’d want a raise too if you had to deal with the bullshit I did.”

“Perhaps if you didn’t spend all of your paychecks on alcohol you could afford a new suit,” Glynda remarked, a tad waspishly. As if to prove her point, he froze mid-motion in the act of snatching an unattended flute from off one of the serving trays. Their gazes met, and he offered her a rakish grin that did nothing to impress, sidling back to Ozpin’s side now brandishing his prize.

“I teach, therefore I drink.” His eyes lingered on the headmaster long enough to at last goad a response out of him.

Ozpin adjusted his glasses. “I stand by my previous statement. And even if I were inclined to believe your salary was insufficient, I’d like to point out that procuring lien has become no less tedious an undertaking.” Qrow cocked a brow, and Ozpin suppressed a sound that bore some distant relation to a snort. “Do you think I have the ability to just magically will money into existence?”

“Yes,” said Qrow.

Glynda found herself making an expression that mirrored Ozpin’s own flat one.

“What?” he asked. “With all the weird fucking shit I’ve seen you do, you seriously expect me to stop suspending my disbelief now? After what you did to me and Raven—”

“Qrow,” Glynda warned.

His jaw shut with a near-audible click of teeth. “Anyone that hears us isn’t going to care, and anyone that would care can’t hear us.”

She grudgingly conceded that he had a point. The background ambiance created by the guests and the music on the speakers was as good of a smokescreen as any for their conversation. There were, admittedly, worse ways to tempt fate.

Didn’t mean she had to give him the satisfaction of being right.

“Unlike him, I’m not about to bargain for your discretion,” she muttered. “At least try to pretend you know what ‘subtlety’ means.”

“Perhaps we should relocate to the balcony,” Ozpin suggested, with a quelling look aimed at Qrow before he could continue to argue for argument’s sake. Years of loyalty won out, and the other man relented with a “yeah, okay” under his breath.

“Believe it or not, my abilities aren’t limited by imagination. They do come with certain constraints.” Ozpin began to herd them in the direction of the staircase. It didn’t escape her notice that he was scanning the crowd, no doubt checking that the coast was clear and they weren’t about to be ambushed by any marauding politicians. Evidently satisfied, he continued: “Even though it bypasses our traditional understanding of reality, magic still operates within definable parameters. No amount of wishful thinking can get around them, however convenient those powers appear.”

“Get back to me when you figure out how to turn water into wine,” Qrow said. “Then I’ll hear whatever you have to say about ‘definable parameters.’”

“He has a point, Oz.” Glynda had the momentary satisfaction of watching them both glance back over their shoulders to stare at her in surprise. “After all,” she continued, “you managed to turn a drunk into a bird.” Her gaze slid in Qrow’s direction. “Too bad you couldn’t give him the magical power of sobriety.”

Qrow flipped her off. “You’re hilarious.”

Ozpin turned to climb the stairs, but not before she caught his amused expression. “Let’s not go asking for miracles, Glynda.”

“It’s when you say stuff like that,” Qrow muttered. “What the hell qualifies as a miracle for someone who can literally break the fabric of reality?”

“It would be more accurate to say I ‘bend’ it,” Ozpin replied, and suddenly Glynda had a newfound insight for where he got his teaching philosophies from. “I thought you would have known that, seeing as we’ve had this conversation before.”

“We have?”

“On more than one occasion.”

“Weird how I don’t remember that.”

“As I’ve mentioned before,” Ozpin said, “the curse allows, and sometimes even requires, temporary violations of spacetime and conservation of mass. As for restrictions, some of them come from not just continuous and voluntary usage, but passive siphoning. With every reincarnation cycle, each new host receives fractionally less magic than before, which limits what I, my predecessors, and my successors are capable of—”

“Oh wait, I remember now.” Qrow mounted the last step and leaned against the handrail. “How do you make magic sound so boring.”

“The same way you make it sound absurd by suggesting I wave my hand and conjure lien from the ether,” Ozpin retorted. Glynda took up the spot to his right, watching the guests mill below the balcony.

“A part of me almost wishes you could, and I don’t mean that entirely in jest,” she said. “Ulterior motive or not, Burrell does have a say in funding. If he chooses to contest the matter we’ll have more to worry about than just Peter’s disappointment.”

“You already got cornered by that greasy jackass?” Qrow stopped fingering the lights wrapped around the balustrade to look at him. “No wonder you were meerkating the room. The hell did he want?”

“The same thing he always does,” Glynda muttered.

Ozpin propped his cane against the railing. “I wouldn’t worry too much,” he said, only to be met with a dubious noise from Glynda. “This isn’t the first time he’s attempted to sabotage me, and it won’t be the last. He loses a little credibility every time he pulls a stunt like this, and he knows it, so I don’t think he’s willing to press his luck. I suspect that tonight was about testing the chinks in my armor as much as it was antagonizing me for its own sake. His way of reminding me that he could be a…threat, if he so chose.”

“Please.” Qrow snorted. “My corgi could kick his ass.”

“Though I suppose,” he went on, in more airy tone, “if our budget was somehow cut, we’d be faced with the interesting dilemma of how to keep the lights on at the school. Of course the Grimm housed in the containment facilities would have to be either killed or released…”

“Transport’s a no-go,” Qrow said. “I mean, if we can’t afford to pay the electric bill for running the Atlas-tech enclosures, and Burrell’s tightening the regs on relocating Grimm, then we’d have to release them somewhere local.” There was a hint of menace in his smile. “How about his living room?”

Glynda opened her mouth, about to weigh in, when she noticed Qrow turn to look down the opposite end of the balcony. Something akin to resignation soured his expression, however briefly, before he sighed and went digging for his flask.

“Speaking of Atlas-tech,” Qrow said.

This time she didn’t have to suffer through the embarrassment of a delayed reaction. Though if she was being honest with herself, nothing short of amnesia could ever make James Ironwood unrecognizable to her. His aesthetic was memorable in a deliberately imposing way, a white tailcoat with navy accents atop a slate-gray military dress shirt. As he neared their posse, Glynda could make out the medals pinned to his uniform, and the Atlesian aiguillettes that denoted his status as a Council member.

“Ozpin!” He reached them in three long strides. The headmasters shook hands. “It’s been a few months. How have you been?”

“Not as well as I’d like, but better than you’d originally assumed,” Ozpin answered, a little cryptically.

Whatever that meant, James apparently understood, because his face lit up. “I’m pleased to hear it.” His gaze fell to her, and he smiled. “You look lovely, Glynda.”

“I have an upper respiratory tract infection and I’m currently coughing up enough mucus to drown a slug.” This time, Glynda did roll her eyes. “Flattery hasn’t worked on me in ten years, James. Try again.”

James held up his hands in a placating gesture. “Keep my distance. Message received.” At last his eyes lighted upon Qrow (who was in the middle of spiking his own glass with the contents of his flask), and his demeanor abruptly shifted. “I didn’t realize that these events were open to the public.”

“They aren’t, and I’m not ‘the public,’” Qrow said, eyes narrowed. “Oz invited me.”

James clasped his arms behind his back. “Glad to see that nothing’s changed since my last visit,” he said, with a pointed look at Qrow’s suit.

Qrow made a noise in the back of his throat. “I think I almost forgot how much I missed you, Jimmy.”

“Behave,” Glynda said. “Both of you.”

“I didn’t realize that you were going to be here,” Ozpin interrupted. He sipped at his drink. “Why didn’t you tell us that you were the Atlas Council’s representative? We would have met up with you upon your arrival.”

“It was a last-minute decision,” James admitted. “Originally we were going to send Hyland, but something came up and she wasn’t available. We couldn’t very well not send someone, so…” He shrugged. “We drew straws. I lost.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t jump at the chance to come, with how often you rave about Jacques Schnee’s parties,” Qrow said, unable to keep the contempt out of his voice.

James’ brow furrowed. “Attending his social functions is more of a formality at this point. He’s a useful ally, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

“So this isn’t your kind of scene,” Qrow said.

“No.”

“Really. It’s stilted, boring, and mechanical—just like you.”

His jawline tightened. “At least my mere presence doesn’t endanger the people around me.”

Perhaps it was too much to hope for, Glynda thought brokenly, that they could go one night without antagonizing each other.

Qrow laughed, low and dark and devoid of mirth. “Trust me, I wouldn’t be here if I thought my Semblance was going to bring down the building.”

Some of the combativeness faded from James’ expression, replaced with curiosity. “Then what are you doing here?” he asked. “Clearly you didn’t come for the drinks or conversation.”

“Yeah, no, fuck that. I’ve got all the drinks I want right here.” He lifted his flask and gave it an emphatic shake. “Like I said, invitation. I’m here to pull the fire alarm when Oz gives me the signal so we can make our little jailbreak and run for it.”

“You make me sound as incorrigible as the students,” Ozpin said. He pursed his lips. “If you’d be so kind as to refrain from anything that might get me fired, I’d appreciate it.”

Qrow smirked into his drink. “Is that an order or a request?”

“Qrow.” “Order it is, then.” He took a deep draught of whatever poison he’d mixed for himself, grimacing as it went down. “We still need to think of an exit strategy for later. I don’t suppose you can turn on the sprinkler system from here?” he asked James.

“Even if I wanted to,” the other man replied evenly, “my implants wouldn’t be able to remotely access them. They’re only meant to interface with my prostheses, which are a closed system.”

“Maybe that’s for the better,” Qrow mused. “I don’t think this venue has enough rice so we’re fucked if you get wet—”

“How’s Amber doing in Atlas?” Glynda pointedly asked, glaring at Qrow as she spoke. He mouthed a “it’s a valid concern” at her as he retreated into his alcohol.

Years of military conditioning had given him an ironclad grip on his temper, so James merely scowled at Qrow as opposed to dropkicking him off the balcony. “She’s settling in,” he said, his inflection considerably warming. “Though I think the climate is taking some getting used to. On her second day there she left the campus to go shopping in the city; something about blouses being ‘incompatible with the weather’…”

“I told her to pack warmly,” Glynda sighed. “Atlas’ winters aren’t Vale’s. She’s going to get sick.”

“Said the woman in the sleeveless dress.” Qrow arched a brow.

She debated the pros and cons of ignoring that remark, before realizing that he would find a way to lord it over her anyway. “Yes, I’m aware that I’m sick, thank you for stating the obvious. I’d like to point out that I had this cold before tonight.”

“Just saying.”

“Kindly don’t.”

“Is Amber keeping up with her training?” Ozpin politely inquired. He glanced between the two, as if debating whether to intervene, or ignore them and simply let nature take its course. He’d clearly opted for the latter.

“She’s currently enrolled in a few classes at the Academy, and I directly oversee her training whenever I can spare the time,” James assured. “I’ve also asked Winter to step in every so often and give her private sparring sessions.”

Ozpin frowned. “Is that wise, James? I know you place a good deal of trust in your subordinates, but the less people we involve, the safer it is.”

“Amber knows not to use her powers out in the open, and Winter’s only assisting with weapon proficiency. They can still train together if Amber relies solely on her staff. It’ll be good experience for her to spar against an older, more agile opponent.” He clapped a hand on Ozpin’s shoulder. “And even in the event of a worst-case scenario, you needn’t worry about Winter. Atlesian Special Operatives are trained to be discreet with handling sensitive information. I trust her.”

Ozpin considered this. “As long as certain precautions are taken, I’ll allow it.” His eyes crinkled in a smile. “You speak highly of her.”

“Why wouldn’t I? She graduated top of her class and is easily one of my best specialists,” James said. He straightened. “I couldn’t have asked for a better operative. She’s ambitious, loyal, a ruthless fencer—”

“—emotionally constipated, a frigid bitch,” Qrow added.

James closed his eyes and inhaled. “You know,” he said, in a voice clearly strained with effort, “I’m sure if you both sat down and talked about your problems like adults, you would get along.”

He cast him a sidelong look. “I’d rather have you shoot me.”

“That could be arranged.”

“Gentlemen,” Ozpin said, but it didn’t sound like a reprimand. Rather, his voice had taken on an apprehensive quality that Glynda couldn’t quite place. Only when she followed his line of sight toward the stairs did a sense of déjà vu creep over her.

“I wondered where you’d disappeared to,” said the newcomer, a woman in matching black slacks and blazer, with a long sheet of silvery-blonde hair. She regarded the headmasters with an expression that was unreadable, though not unfriendly. “How was your flight, General?”

“Uneventful, but I’m not complaining.” James dipped his head. “It’s good to see you again, Councilor Integra.”

“Likewise.”

Ozpin cleared his throat. “Did you need me for something, Integra?”

“For work? No. At least, nothing that can’t wait until next week,” she said, but with the casual evasiveness of a person who’d been waiting for an opportunity to get their foot in the door, and now had one. “But I did however receive a few concerns I need to address with you.”

“Concerns?” Ozpin echoed. “In regards to what?”

If Glynda had been expecting to hear Burrell’s name coming out of her mouth, she was sorely mistaken. “Do me the courtesy of not looming over the guests. Your combined presence is starting to unnerve people. Either disperse and mingle with the crowd or wallflower if you must, as long as you do it on the first floor.”

Not bothering to wait and see if they’d comply, she turned on her heel and swept back down the stairs.

“…a pity she’s retiring next year,” Ozpin said, after a moment. “I’ve always found her the most reasonable of Vale’s Council.”

James exhaled. “That was unlucky.”

“Well, it’s not like we were making an effort to hide,” Qrow said, his fingers wrapping around the banister. “And Huntsmen in groups do tend to draw attention, she’s not wrong about that.” He swore softly under his breath. “So much for waiting out the storm up here.”

Ozpin’s eyes fluttered shut, and he leaned into his cane. “We don’t need to stay for the full duration,” he murmured. “Merely another hour or so.”

“You make your job sound like an endurance test,” Qrow said.

James swapped a look with Ozpin. “It isn’t? That’s the first I’ve heard of it.”

“Not the words I would have used,” Ozpin said, peering contemplatively at his glass, “but I suppose anything more accurate would involve profan—”

Glynda sneezed.

It took effort to not gag on the mucus sliding along the back of her throat. With a grimace, she coughed it back down, unable to suppress the knee-jerk shudder that followed. Lifting her head back up, she was caught off guard by Qrow’s rather intent expression, which was now disconcertingly closer than it had been a moment ago.

“Can I help you?” she asked. sandpaper.

He peered at her a heartbeat longer before declaring, somewhat unnecessarily, “You look terrible.”

“You don’t say,” she said through clenched teeth.

Her first thought was that he was clearly more drunk than he was letting on, only to then have that thought fizzle out like a wet firecracker when he reached forward and, before she could flinch out of range, graze his fingertips across her forehead.

She swatted his hand away. “What are you doing?”

“You look really terrible, Glynda.” He folded his arms across his chest, head tipped to the side in feigned deliberation. “I think you might have a fever. We should get you home so you can sleep.”

“For the last time, Branwen, it’s a cold, I’m not going to—” Her thoughts came to screeching halt and hastily backpedaled. “You can’t be serious.”

“I don’t see you coming up with any better ideas,” Qrow retorted. “Unless you want to stay here and eat shitty appetizers all night.” He turned to his superior. “You in?”

It spoke volumes of Ozpin’s loss of fucks to give via alcohol that he didn’t even try pretending to object. “James and I will notify Integra and the other kingdom representatives.”

“You’ll notify her,” James corrected him. “It makes sense for you to leave under the guise of taking her home, and Qrow’s not obligated to stay so no one will begrudge him leaving. But I can’t imagine anyone being happy if I left, too. You don’t need a three-man escort.” A rueful smile ghosted over his face. “See to it that you actually do get some rest.”

“You can see to it yourself,” Glynda insisted. There was a part of her that would, in retrospect, take the time to process everything she was saying. Right now, that part of her brain was taking backseat to twenty milligrams of cough medicine and an acute headache. Consequences be damned; she wasn’t about to abandon him. “Correct me if I’m wrong,” she began, “but didn’t we just get done telling Burrell that we needed to finalize our preparations for the Atlas mission?”

Ozpin narrowed his eyes in thought. “We did,” he said.

“If I’m indisposed, you’ll need someone to step in and help oversee those plans,” she concluded. “And who better to take over than the Councilor in whose kingdom said mission will take place? We’re cutting it rather close with the deadline, so the sooner you two leave, the sooner you can prepare.”

She could count on one hand the number of times she’d seen James gape. It was gratifying to know that her underhandedness ranked up there with the discovery that magic existed.

Qrow whistled. “Think it’ll work?”

James scrubbed at his face, before his hand came to rest at his chin. “Like you said, it’s not as if we have any other ideas.” But beneath the cool composure was an earnest hopefulness that he wasn’t quite able to mask, that betrayed just how miserable he would be at the prospect of the alternative.

It wasn’t her most eloquent plan, but desperate times…

“We’ll meet you outside.” A hand snaked around her shoulder before Glynda could protest, and she found herself being guided down the stairs. “Gotta make it look convincing if we want to sell it,” Qrow said by way of explanation. He discarded his partially-drained flute on a passing table. “Try coughing on one of the servers. That ought to do the trick.”

“You’re enjoying this,” she accused, without any heat.

“And you’re not? Don’t try to deny it,” he said, “you wanted an excuse to nope the fuck out of here as much as any of us.”

Even if she had the energy to deny it, she wouldn’t have bothered. It was late, she was sick, and gods, was it really that cold out? Glynda reflexively reached her hands up to wrap them around her arms as they stepped through the doorway. Crisp winter air burned in her lungs, and her breath fogged around her face. She stamped out the treasonous impulse to duck back inside the venue.

“What's taking them so long?” she heard Qrow mutter.

Then, not even fifteen seconds later, they appeared silhouetted against the building entrance. They stopped long enough to exchange words with the porter before crossing the street to join them.

“I can’t believe that worked,” James marveled. “I thought we’d have to—” His eyes jumped to Glynda when she failed to suppress a shiver. “Glynda, you’re freezing. Here”—he was already shrugging out of his overcoat—“I have a shirt on underneath, take my coat—”

“You don’t have to—” The protest died off as he draped the heavy fabric across her shoulders. The effect was immediate, and she allowed herself to sag into the garment, enjoying the residual warmth leftover from his body heat. “Thank you, James.”

His features softened. “Of course.”

Ozpin reached for his glasses. He’d produced an eyeglass cleaner from somewhere on his person, and was now running the cloth over the lens. “James and I were saying that we rarely have an opportunity to get together, outside of work. Would either of you be interested in getting dinner, now that our night is free?” He donned his spectacles, and in the lamplight his smile held a hint of mischief. “It’s the very least I can do for inconveniencing you both.”

Qrow shoved his hands in his pockets. “You paying?” he asked.

“I think I can manage to cover dinner,” he said. “My financial troubles notwithstanding.”

She caught James’ perplexed frown. “Don’t ask,” she sighed.

“It will have to be a restaurant where other guests won’t find us,” Ozpin added. “I imagine they wouldn’t take kindly to hearing that we…exaggerated your illness and used our jobs as Huntsmen to get out of a mandatory event.”

“Oh don’t worry, Oz.” Qrow smirked. “I know a place.”

I like to headcanon that the Wizard’s magic is a bit like the serum used on Steve Rogers, so Oz, his predecessors, and Oscar are all stuck with the side effect of magically-enforced sobriety.

For those of you that that were curious, and want to know what the chapter title translates to:

Latin: veni, vidi, vinavi – “I came, I saw, I drank.”

vīnum – “wine”

– > [ vīn- ] – stem – > [ vīn- ] + [ -āre ] – verb-forming suffix for the present infinitive, “to wine” or “to [drink] wine” – > [ vīnāre ] + [ -āvī ] – conjugated for first-person singular perfect active indicative, “I drank wine” = vinavi – final omission of macrons

I’m pretty sure that somewhere I just made a Latin enthusiast cry, but oh well.

[riven-ish]

That time she left a child on a doorstep in NOVEMBER in nothing but a blanket with people she herself deemed horrible. That time that she then never bothered to once check up on said child in person dispite the child being the son of her favorite students and what she knew of the relatives. That time that she didn’t introduce Harry to the wizarding world after the letters failed to reach said recipient. That time she failed to notice what a kid who had been neglected might look like dispite being the deputy headmistress and said child’s head of house. That time following a display of reckless endangerment of a child on behalf of an fellow student’s property she rewards that behavior for her goal of a trophy. That time she fails to notice a distinct and persistent lack of regard for self in a student. That time she fails to see the incompetence of sending children to their dorms,two of which are in the dungeons, when they are in a fortified potion with multiple highly trained staff. That time she gives kids detention in a place off limits to students. That time she disregards and repremands students worried about a man object placed inside a building full of children that is designed to attract a murdering psychopath. That time she designs a measure to protect said object that children can beat but also potentially be killed with. That time she does nothing about an entire school bullying a student. That time she never takes attendance or suggests students stick together until almost the end of the year. The time she doesn’t make sure that’s known trouble makers are present in their dorms so they can’t go off to kill death snakes at twelve. That time she again doesn’t notice a death wish in one of her students and is complicit in awarding that behavior again. That time she gives a reality breaking object to a 13 year old. That time she is openly dismissive of a fellow colleague in front of children. That time she isn’t watching Harry like a hawk because there is a murderer on the loose and the child is shown to seek trouble. That time she doesn’t sit Harry down and tell him about his godfather and why it might be a bad idea to confront murderers. That time she allowed someone to play a sport that involves heights to play near something that has been shown to have a extreme negative effect to said child. That time that whole loss of consciousness thing doesn’t jog her mind to maybe this get might have seen TOO MUCH TRUMA. That time when her student again is involved in an extremely dangerous situation she intervenes in no way. That time she lets a still escaped convict (even if he didn’t do the crime) sign official documents for a child. That time she barely puts up a fight against the inclusion of a 14 kid with a death wish in a tournament that had been canceled for too many deaths. That time she AGAIN allows a student body to bully a student. That time she does nothing to help prepare her underage student to face a dragon despite likening the disregard for the rules of the mural era and that it’s an established practice in the tournament. That time she thinks it’s an ok idea/is not seen protesting in any way having people be kidnapped, put unconscious and in a position where the might drowned in a lake in Scotland in the middle of February. That time she sees a student return from a portkey with a dead body and yet again does not think this might have been a bad experience for them. That time she tells a student who was being tortured by another teacher to suck it up even though that would have been enough evidence to get rid of a terrible toad. That time she again lets students be bullied and slandered. That time she only sits down with her students for counseling in their fifth year. That time a student starts to have horrifying pain and her only response is to go to Dumbledore. That time that she only ever listen and fights for Harry is to get back at a bitch of a toad. That time that her students again are involved in a fucking traumatic event and she does nothing. A fucking epic

Honestly I could go on and I missed a bunch too

Every Adult In “Harry Potter” Let Us Down At Some Point And That’s Important a 900 page dissertation by me

[echovalley-rp]

VEDIKA MUKTI / 30 YEARS OLD / POLICE OFFICER AT ECHO VALLEY POLICE DEPARTMENT / EASTCLIFFE

FULL NAME:

Vedika “Veda” Priyanka Mukti

BIRTHDAY:

23 March, 1987

SPECIES:

Black Mataku

AREA OF RESIDENCE:

Lives alone in an apartment in Eastcliffe

BIOGRAPHY: (tw:  trigger, trigger)

Vedika was the middle of three wild daughters who from their very first steps were responsible for every grey hair on the heads of their parents and all their extended family. She and Anandi and Maina crashed through their childhood home in the mountains of Nepal like feral creatures, leaving destruction in their wake wherever they went. Their grandparents and aunties and uncles, of which there were many, used to tut and shake their heads, and their parents used to try and make them behave with stories of monsters coming in the night to gobble up bad children. But the girls seemed to already know their own power, and they weren’t afraid… Perhaps they should have been.

Sometime in their youth, the girls all awoke at the same time in the middle of the night, and without speaking made their way out into the mountainous wilderness together until they reached a dark and winding cave. Within, they met Banjhākri & Banjhākrini, a wedded pair of demons who were notorious for devouring mischievous children. But they wanted something else from the triplets that night… The girls were put through rigorous magical testing, for not only are the Banjhākri demons, but also powerful shamans of the highest order- gods in fearsome form. Night after night the girls returned to the cave silently in the dead of night, and each night their testing was inconclusive. It was hard to determine the value of the triplets- individually they each had their flaws- inhibition, indecisiveness, recklessness… but together… oh the three of them were possibly one of the most promising magical forces they had seen. Finally, the demon gods agreed to assess their powers in a few years, when they had more fully developed… They were warned that their final tests would be much more difficult…

Shortly thereafter, their parents chose (for their own good) to move them from their beloved village in the dense wilderness, to a girl’s academy in Scandinavia, which specialized in the teaching of young women with magical potential. The girls protested, as they knew the dangers of abandoning their training with the Banjhākri, but numerous plots to run away from home were foiled, and soon they had no choice but to leave. Each mile of distance maddened them, to the point that they were like uncaged animals at school. They each felt a driving need during their studies there to return to Nepal, to the cave of the demons. And as a result of their restlessness, they often misbehaved and in fact ruled over the other girls at the school with a sort of gang of delinquents. Chief among them was none other than Vedika herself, notorious for crafting a weapon out of anything, and a penchant for sneaking out after hours which was strictly forbidden. There wasn’t a single professor that could match her, magical though they were, and she often found herself in the Headmistress’s office for private and mandatory lessons in control and restraint. But in the end, the great Lady of the school only managed to put a pretty wrapper around Veda’s ambition. A cage that a tiger can walk freely in and out of is still a cage after all…

Regardless, Anandi, Vedika, and Maina all completed their training together with quite promising marks, and a delinquency report longer than their arms. The second they were free of the place, they all returned to their village, to the cave, where Banjhākri & Banjhākrini were impatiently waiting. Here…the sisters learned their lesson about recklessness… Of the two survivors, neither of them could explain exactly what went wrong with their final test, just that the youngest of them, Maina, was devoured in front of them. And when they emerged they forgot so much more, all of their tests, and even what they encountered inside the cave. But the horrors of that faithful night still come to them in terrible vision… and Vedika emerged with something worse…

The scar the incident left on her mind has never ceased in swelling and irritating her already unstable psyche. Strange dreams that once haunted her in her early childhood have returned with a vengeance, and after the incident she often found herself sleepwalking… waking up in a place with no memory of how she’d gotten there, or what had happened in her unconscious state. Desperately, after years of wandering aimlessly she returned to the only other place she felt any sense of belonging- the Academy. She owes the Headmistress her life for so graciously taking her in, and upon evaluating her power and control making her the Deputy Headmistress, a position that came with responsibilities and distractions. It was her duty to discipline the very girls she counted herself among in her own school days- she roamed the halls at night and sent misbehaving girls back to their rooms. She saw to their protection and well-being every night, and taught them each day the values of discipline and restraint… for none knew better than she the potential consequences of faltering.

For years, she grew close to these girls and guarded them, and for a while she felt better, even though she still occasionally woke up in odd places. She felt removed enough from the demon’s influence that the nightmares didn’t feel as real as they had before, and she convinced herself that the sleepwalking came from her irregular schedule and the odd hours she kept for the sake of her girls. But she would quickly find that there was still very much for her to be fearful of in the night.

One evening, she woke to find herself standing in a cold, wet field, facing the east and the bloody red sunrise… and when she turned back, the Academy she had grown to love so dearly was engulfed in flames. She got most of them out, but a student and two professors succumbed to the smoke and flames… and what student of course but her most beloved… The cause of the fire was never determined, but afterwards Veda could not remain there, the charred halls brought back too many painful memories, and her grip on reality faltered. To escape, she moved again to the other side of the world, to an island her family often spoke of as a haven for magical folk such as her; Echo Valley. The place was instantly calming… a powerful forest stood testament to the potent magical forces there, forces she knew she could learn from, for the desire in her to be the best shaman she could had not faded, even after her vital lesson about control. As soon as she moved there she felt right again, comfortable, and she fell back into some of her old ways. Still a wild child, she sought every opportunity to display her power, and eventually landed a job with the local police department; most notably due to her reference from the Headmistress lauding her as a considerable security force, and her ability and willingness to take down any manner of perpetrator with efficient competence. She found her home among the other “Mataku” as they were called here, and was determined to continue her pursuit of knowledge and influence, making a home for herself alone in Eastcliffe with a considerable collection of grimoires.

But the nightmares followed her even here, and she only had a few nights of uninterrupted sleep before she started waking again to find herself in odd places, like the edge of the forest, or in the middle of the city in her nightgown. She chalked it up to moving so far from home, and from the new traumas she experienced across the globe. She felt safe here, her midnight visions of demons were certainly only dreams… surely nothing could follow her so far away… And then came the wildfire, in the forest… Vedika disappeared on the night the fire began… and even her coworkers on the police force have begun to doubt if she will ever emerge again… Despite their determination to find her, many are beginning to lose hope…

But… what’s this? Magic users along the forest’s edge have grown restless and uneasy with a sudden surge of magical energy and emotions… What could such a presence be, and why has it suddenly come into being where nothing was felt before?

Extra Details:

 “Vedika” means ‘altar’, or ‘full of knowledge’. The eldest triplet is Anandi (which means ‘jovial’), and the youngest was Maina (which means ‘singing bird’). Their mother is named Nandita (meaning ‘cheerful’ or ‘happy’), and their father is Ravi (meaning ‘sun’). Their surname “Mukti” means ‘freedom from life and death’.

Vedika’s tattoos cover both her arms down to her hands, half of both legs, and her entire chest and back. She collected them in the years following Maina’s death, when she restlessly traveled around to different places both alone and in the company of her surviving sister, Anandi. Each piece has considerably meaning to her, but she has yet to speak of any of it to her acquaintances here. Those that ask about them often find themselves on the receiving end of a pointed glare, and as a result most that know her have learned to mind their own business. However, they only serve to further complicate the elaborate rumors about her past, and at this point she might be keeping their stories secret as a way to entertain herself.

Anandi is an airline stewardess that lives primarily out of London with her husband and their two children. Vedika still keeps in regular contact with her, but she hasn’t seen her sister or her niece and nephew in person for years.

Around her neck, Vedika always has a small glass vial which contains a pinch of black ash, and a small shard of bone. She doesn’t talk about it, and most of the time she doesn’t even acknowledge or seem to recognize its presence there, but the bone shard is Maina’s recovered from her cremation ceremony. She never takes it off, but she often touches it when thinking of her sister. It’s another one of those things she simply doesn’t talk about, and that people have learned not to ask about… not because she gets angry with them, but because any questions about it confuse her to such a degree that no one can get a straight answer out of her.

PERSONALITY:

Vedika has always been one of the most gossiped-about people wherever she goes, and her odd personality is the likely culprit in this. All at once, she can be brash and open- she will embrace strangers openly as her friends, and her vibrancy draws people of all kinds to her, a talent which suits both her line of work and her fiery demeanor. And at the same time, there is something cold and guarded about her, like a steel plate put into a wall. She can be very exacting and disciplinary when it comes to others putting themselves in harm’s way, that’s the nurturing school guard in her… And she has her secrets, in fact she’s likely told no one here about the earlier hardships of her life… But it’s obvious to anyone with a sense of these things that she has been touched by trauma and fear. She still acts out, even as a law enforcement officer, but they’re used to their reckless cops here and so she blends in more than she probably should. She’s gone back to being a bit reckless, although she’ll still reprimand others for the same, and she can be quick to anger or to act. She notoriously does not wait for backup when she should… She’s just very confident in her abilities and the level of control she’s managed thus far. Veda knows she can get herself out of nearly any dangerous situation she might encounter, and there is very little on this island that frightens her more than the storm of emotional confusion inside her own head. No one will hear her talk about the nightmares, or the sleepwalking, in fact she doesn’t talk much about herself at all. That, added to the fact that she is utterly covered in intricate tattoos have led some to believe that she’s in Echo Valley to escape a notorious East Asian crime syndicate, and she laughs along with these stories and others that people have come up with about her. She’s more than content to be mysterious, for she has often found that fear and respect go hand in hand.

FACE CLAIM: DICHEN LACHMAN ✗ MUN: Mae, EST, 26, She/Her

[braverytaught]

okay, because i like to suffer and it’s been a whole week since i posted a meta, let’s talk about minerva and the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad year, aka the 1997-1998 school year.

okay, jokes aside, this was. pretty much The Worst Year Ever, and she’s had some pretty rough years. in the late 1970s (through 1981) she was heavily involved in fighting a war while also teaching at the same time, and it was a losing war, too. in 1992 a damn basilisk was attacking her students throughout the year. in 1995 she was actively fighting umbridge’s awful reforms, which of course culminated in her being hit by four stunners and nearly dying.

but none of it holds a candle to 1997. at the end of the spring term, she loses albus dumbledore and, rather than having time to grieve, immediately takes up the mantle of headmistress, deals with the ministry, organizes the funeral, etc, etc. of course, she’s technically provisional headmistress, just as she was in 1993 and 1996 when dumbledore was forced to leave the school, but the expectation was that, as deputy headmistress, she would be appointed official headmistress during the summer.

that doesn’t happen. instead, voldemort takes over the ministry, and minerva is told that she is being ousted and replaced by the very man who murdered albus dumbledore. she is, most graciously, allowed to retain her position as head of gryffindor house, but she is no longer deputy headmistress either; that honor goes jointly to alecto and amycus carrow.

so minerva has, in a manner of weeks, lost her mentor and very close friend, taken up his position in the wake of his death, and then been ousted from it by the man she believes to have betrayed her and everything she stands for. she did, very briefly, consider resigning in protest - but only in a moment of frustration and despair; it was never a serious option. if anything, it was more important than ever that she remain at hogwarts, to protect her students from what was sure to be a terrible regime.

and so she does. she remains at hogwarts. she is there for snape’s start-of-term speech, where he discusses the changes in discipline the school can expect to see. she is there to see a much smaller group of first years be sorted; there are no muggleborns among them. when several gryffindors - harry potter and hermione granger among them - don’t show up, minerva is questioned for knowledge of their whereabouts. 

the carrows are given full disciplinary authority. teachers who see misbehavior are to report it to the carrows, who will carry out their detentions - detentions that, it quickly becomes clear, are little less than torture. 

so minerva stops giving detentions. she gives warnings, she takes points - but she does not report her students unless forced to. she refuses to contribute to their suffering.

when messages from dumbledore’s army start appearing - dumbledore’s army, still recruiting spray-painted on the walls, vandalism, pamphlets and rumors spreading like wildfire - minerva has little trouble picking out the ringleaders: neville longbottom, ginny weasley, and luna lovegood were the closest of potter’s group still left at hogwarts, and she doesn’t miss the way they congregate. 

she is torn between pride and an awful, awful fear. they’re putting themselves in danger. they’re putting themselves directly in the path of the carrows, who have no qualms about causing pain. minerva tries to protect them. she tries to stand in the carrows’ way. she intervenes when she can, prevents the carrows from meting out detentions for offenses that can’t be proved, but her power to help is limited; she can’t always be there, and dumbledore’s army seem determined to take risks beyond the scope of her protection.

and minerva isn’t immune to the carrows’ displeasure. they can’t drive her from the school, because they know she is more dangerous outside of hogwarts and unsupervised than she is inside of it and half a prisoner. but they can hurt her. 

when they first start forcing students to use the cruciatus curse on other students in amycus’s class, minerva storms into the headmaster’s office to demand a stop be put to it. snape orders her out without retribution, but amycus takes it upon himself to cruciate her for her trouble. she bears it without screaming, and returns to her office alone and shaking with fury and pain.

when she stands in the way of a second-year alecto is attempting to terrorize, alecto blasts her out of the way with such force that she breaks several ribs and spends the night in the hospital wing.

when neville longbottom mysteriously vanishes after minerva was told to escort him to the headmaster’s office, they curse her to such an extent that poppy has to call for st. mungo’s. (she wasn’t involved in his escape, but she does have a suspicion as to where he’s gone. she doesn’t tell them.)

out of all the teachers, she is the most vocal in her opposition to snape and the carrows. this isn’t to discount the other staff members, like pomona and filius and poppy, all of whom are doing their best for their students, all of whom are equally angry and scared - but minerva is the most rash, the most hot-headed, the most righteously angry, and she is head of gryffindor house, after all; her students are targeted more than any others. so she is the one who most often questions snape, most often antagonizes the carrows, who makes no attempt to treat them with anything other than haughty coldness.

but this means that when the punishments increase, when the carrows begin torturing students in the hallways and slashing their faces to ribbons when they speak out of turn, when snape makes it clear that any teacher who intervenes will face the same treatment - this means that she carries the most guilt. she is torn, constantly torn, between pride and fear, between anger and guilt. if she speaks, she risks bringing retribution down upon her own students and colleagues. if she is silent then she gives in to everything she hates.

and all the time her students are hurting. first years scuttle from class to class, meek and terrified. seventh years seethe silently for the slow death of the school that has seen them grow up. children come to her classes with bleeding cuts and mottled bruises and she has to teach them and pretend that nothing is wrong. she cannot comfort them. she cannot speak freely to them. she cannot hide them from the evil that has invaded her school. nothing she does is enough. for every student she saves from harm there are three more being cruciated. she doesn’t know whether to support the students who rebel or to beg them to stop, to keep themselves safe.

and slowly her students disappear. luna lovegood never returns after christmas break. ginny weasley doesn’t come back after easter. neville longbottom vanishes, and other sixth and seventh years slowly disappear after him. the castle grows quieter and quieter as students disappear and the ones who remain are cowed into silence. it feels like a prison. it feels like a graveyard.

she has very little contact with the order. she exchanges messages with remus lupin or kingsley shacklebolt when she can, but many of the order are on the run, forced into hiding, and she herself feels less and less safe leaving the castle as time goes on. in previous years, she would often slip away to attend meetings or carry out order business - now, she’s terrified that if she leaves her students alone for any length of time, she’ll come back to find that the carrows have done something more terrible than ever in her absence. so she resigns herself to isolation, and has very little knowledge of what is going on in the outside world - she gets copies of the quibbler when she can, until xenophilius lovegood is targeted and the magazine falls under the death eaters’ control; she gleans what news she can from the biased prattlings of the daily prophet; and she treasures any news she can get from the order. but it grows increasingly few and far between, and most of it is bad.

she doesn’t sleep enough, and what sleep she gets is often rife with nightmares. she is often in pain. she is nearly always angry, or scared, or despairing, or all three at once. she and pomona keep as constant checks on each other as they can manage; minerva often spends what free time she has in the greenhouse with pomona, raging or speaking anxiously or, occasionally, crying. the staff do what they can to support and encourage each other, all of them, but especially minerva, pomona, filius, and poppy. but there is no lightheartedness in their company now, and no laughter. they support each other because they are all they have left.

it is a relief, when harry returns and the dam breaks and the battle begins. as much as minerva fears the outcome, as much as she fears losing more lives, anything is better than remaining under snape’s reign any longer. when she lends harry her support, it is unquestioning; when she charges into battle, it is with all the anger of a year of watching her students suffer. when she says we duel to kill, she absolutely means it.

[writingdumpster-o]

Chapter Five:

The train arrived at its destination at nightfall, as usual. Magdalene found her cat waiting for her on the platform. They followed Blaise to the carriages and found one waiting for them. Unsurprisingly, they could also see the Thestral pulling the carriage.

Magdalene’s eyes widened. “What in the name of Salazar is that?”

“That’s a Thestral.” A familiar voice chimed in. Luna approached them, and then went to pet the beast.

“Um excuse me, but aren’t they supposed to be dangerous?” Magdalene asked, trying to keep her composure.

“No. They’re feared because only people who have seen death can see them. But they’re harmless, otherwise.” Luna explained as she fed the Thestral a slice of raw meat.

Magdalene eyed the pair suspiciously. “Right. I’m hungry, though, so let’s head to Hogwarts.”

Blaise suppressed a grin at Magdalene’s nervousness and hopped into the carriage. They waited for five minutes until the last students, who happened to be Theodore Nott and Daphne Greengrass, joined them. The conversations during the ride happened between Magdalene and Luna, and Blaise with his two childhood friends. They split with Luna when they got to the Great Hall and found empty spots on the Slytherin benches, not far from the Malfoys, who stayed at the back, away from the rest.

The Deputy Headmaster, Professor Slughorn, took the responsibility of the Sorting Ceremony, thus welcoming six new Slytherin students, ten Gryffindors, nine Ravenclaws, and fifteen Hufflepuffs. Theo made a snide remark about the high number of Hufflepuffs, making anyone within earshot roll their eyes. He grinned widely nonetheless, proud of his wit. As Professor Slughorn then announced, Hermione Granger was then named Head Girl, and, to his surprise, Blaise Zabini was named Head Boy.

“Why are you so surprised?” Magdalene asked, after the cheers died down at the Slytherin table.

“It should be Draco, he’s always behind Granger and I’m always behind him, in our studies.” Blaise murmured, eyeing Draco over Maggie’s head.

“Maybe he declined the offer?” Magdalene offered, unsure.

Blaise pursed his lips and nodded stiffly. “Maybe… I’ll have to ask him.”

Magdalene nodded and turned to the front of the room to find Professor McGonagall, the new Headmistress, giving a speech.

“And now, the master of ceremony and previous winner of the Triwizard Tournament is going to tell all the newcomers about the Tournament.”

Just then, Harry Potter walked from Gryffindor table to stand next to McGonagall. Cheers erupted from Gryffindor table. He introduced the Triwizard Tournament in quite the same way as Dumbledore had, years ago, and he told the students about the same age restriction. A plan began forming in Magdalene’s head, which would help her financially once she was out of Hogwarts. She had zoned out, her gaze trained on Potter, when she felt a nudge on her right arm. She turned to see Theo, leaning down to whisper to her.

“We need to have a talk before going back to the common room.”

“Will you explain to me why you’ve been acting weirdly since I got back to Hogwarts last year?” She asked challengingly.

He swallowed hard. “Something like that.”

***

Theodore Nott had a secret, one he was hoping to keep for as long as he could. Ever since receiving an owl from his father upon Middleton’s return to Hogwarts in the year that had Snape as headmaster. It was January 1998 and Hogwarts had never felt so unwelcoming. Theo, though he tried to hide it, had never wanted to be farther away from the castle. He had been at the breakfast table, Slytherin table being the fullest of all four, just like the Slytherin hourglass. Anything was an opportunity to dock points from Gryffindor, mostly. Suddenly, a dark-feathered owl swooped right over Slytherin table and dropped a folded piece of parchment destined for Theo. He opened it, and upon reading its contents, his life changed. What was written about Magdalene Middleton made him treat her differently.

As Filch singlehandedly led all of Slytherin House to the dungeons, Theodore kept his eyes trained on Middleton’s back. He never broke eye contact with her dark hair until he felt a smaller hand slip into his, and he looked to his right at Nancy Burke, his 6th year on and off girlfriend, who looked terrified. He squeezed her hand once and looked back up only to find that Middleton had disappeared. His head whipped left, right, and back. She was nowhere to be seen, and a lump had begun to form in Theodore’s throat.

He spent their entire forty-five minutes of being locked looking for her without arousing suspicion among his housemates, but to no avail. When the gate of their cell blew up, he wasted no time in running out, leaving Nancy with her friends to deal with her. He had to find her.

He dodged spells and hexes and just as he tried looking in the greenhouses, he collided violently with the most familiar person he could: Draco Malfoy. And he just so happened to be with Magdalene Middleton.

“What’s going on with you lot?” Theo asked, panting.

“What’s it look like?” Middleton retorted, already meaning to escape their company.

“We’re going to check on Blaise, he was Stunned before we had time to run away.” Draco explained, and the three of them marched towards the corridor in which Blaise was still unconscious.

Magdalene ran towards Zabini and knelt at his side, hyperventilating. She fussed over his pulse and breathing, and Theo would never be able to place the feeling that knotted his stomach at the sight. He knelt beside her and pulled out her wand.

“Rennervate!”

“What the bloody hell happened?” Blaise sputtered, blinking several times before rubbing his eyelids hard.

“You got Stunned.” Magdalene declared simply. She fixed the collar of his white shirt and the knot of his tie.

“Oh. Okay.” He replied sheepishly.

“Come on; let’s get you out of here.” Magdalene helped Zabini up.

“We all need out,” Theo remarked, eyeing Magdalene meaningfully.

“I need to find Victoria,” Draco spoke urgently, “we need to get to Zabini Manor, it’s the only place where we’ll be safe, we need to find them all and take them there.”

“And I’m the only one who can get you through the wards.”

“I’ll help you—”

Theo interrupted Middleton’s volunteering. “No, you need to leave. You’re Muggle-Born, they’ll let you out easier than us, we need to find Slughorn to be able to leave.”

“I need to find him too, not everyone knows I’m Muggle-Born—”

Theodore’s temper got the better of him and he grabbed her roughly by the arm. He dragged her off to the seventh floor where they found Ginny Weasley and Tonks, the Auror.

“She needs to get out of here.” He announced, finally releasing the struggling teen.

“Why? Afraid her relatives might find her?” Weasley sneered, eyeing Magdalene distastefully.

“She’s Muggle-Born, you little—”

“Hey, cool it, you two. Okay, we’ll take her to Aberforth.” Tonks pacified, opening the closet she had just come out from. “Climb through the portrait and continue until the end, you’ll meet Aberforth Dumbledore.”

“I need—”

“For Salazar’s sake, Middleton, just get the hell out of here!” Theo bellowed, making Tonks raise an eyebrow.

“I want an explanation, Nott.” She said decisively before surrendering and penetrating the Room of Requirement.

Even then, Theo knew that the explanation would take months, if not years, to come. How could he possibly tell Middleton about the contents of that letter? He took Middleton aside.

“You don’t know everything about your ancestry.”

“Could you be any more vague?” She asked sarcastically.

“Just don’t think you know everything about your parents.” He hissed, his breathing hitting her face.

The mention of his parents made her face light up with grief. “Don’t talk about my parents, ever again.” She hissed venomously, earning her green tie stereotype.

His features softened, just like his grip on her arm. “I’m sorry… I… I know what happened, I just… There’s stuff that you need to know, and your mum didn’t have time to tell you.”

“How would you know the first thing about my mum and what she needed to tell me?” Magdalene hissed, holding his gaze.

“I know more than you, and more than you can even imagine. Just be careful whom you meddle with.” Theodore warned before stomping to his dormitory.

                                                         ***

Meanwhile, Victoria stuck to Draco who had been earning glares ever since they had gotten inside the castle. She knew that everyone secretly despised him for her uncle’s actions, and what Draco had been forced to do for the Death Eaters and the Dark Lord himself. At some point, they walked into Goyle, but even he, their childhood friend, was acting odd toward Draco. A glare from Victoria made him flee their company as the blonde sympathetically tightened her grip on her cousin’s arm. She looked up at him as he glared into space, his expression overly mysterious. She frowned but decided to let him sleep on it before asking her questions, she knew not to overwhelm him with questions. He said the password to the Slytherin common room, and got inside still holding his cousin’s hand tightly to his chest.

“Can I ask you something?” She asked nonetheless.

He gave her a tired look. “Can it wait until tomorrow?”

She gave it a thought as other Slytherins squeezed past her. “I guess most of it can,” she muttered finally.

He smirked feebly. “Most?” He repeated.

“I actually have a scheme of questions for you, but one of them can’t wait until tomorrow. Can I?” She asked, giving him a rare toothy grin.

He chuckled. “Of course”

She cleared her throat. “Are you okay?”

His slight grin disappeared for confusion to settle. “Of course I am, why would you ask?”

“I have eyes, Draco. I see how everyone is looking at you,” she murmured, putting a hand over his arm.

He eyed her hand curiously; she almost never made physical contact. “And may I know how they’re looking at me?”

She noticed his glance and withdrew her hand before muttering almost silently, “They’re looking at you like you’re the Dark Lord…”

To her greatest surprise, he snorted. “That’s it? The contrary would have surprised me greatly, Vicky. I’ve been preparing for this the entire summer, it doesn’t bother me the tiniest bit, I swear,” he reassured her, putting both hands on her slumped shoulders, a peaceful smile on his face. “Will you stop worrying so much, now?”

She shrugged his hands off her and straightened her composure before draining her face of emotion. “Who said I was worrying? I’m just curious, don’t overestimate yourself,” she walked away from him toward the girls’ dormitory.

He smiled and muttered, “So very true, Miss Malfoy,” before going to the boys’ dormitory himself.