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twoidiotwriters1 · 4 years ago

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Written In The Stars XCVIII (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: Updated: I will be dropping the next few chapters this week, so stay tuned -Danny

Words: 4,487

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Chapter Thirty-Three: The Final Task.

"He really trusts Snape, even though he knows he was a Death Eater?" Ron asked.

"Yes," said Harry.

"Rita Skeeter," Hermione mumbled rubbing her forehead with both palms.

"How can you be worrying about her now?" said Ron.

"I'm not worrying about her. I'm just thinking... remember what she said to me in the Three Broomsticks? 'I know things about Ludo Bagman that would make your hair curl.' This is what she meant, isn't it? She reported his trial, she knew he'd passed information to the Death Eaters. And Winky too, remember... 'Ludo Bagman's a bad wizard.' Mr Crouch would have been furious he got off, he would have talked about it at home."

"Yeah, but Bagman didn't pass information on purpose, did he? And Fudge reckons Madame Maxime attacked Crouch?"

"Yeah, but he's only saying that because Crouch disappeared near the Beauxbatons carriage."

"Makes no sense because then all her students were there to see, and Hagrid as well, unless he thinks Hagrid's unreliable too..." Mel added.

"We never thought of her, did we?" said Ron. "Mind you, she's definitely got giant blood, and she doesn't want to admit it —"

"Of course she doesn't! Look what happened to Hagrid when Rita found out about his mother. Look at Fudge, jumping to conclusions about her, just because she's part giant. Who needs that sort of prejudice? I'd probably say I had big bones if I knew that's what I'd get for telling the truth."

"I'm hardly a supporter of liars," Mel sighed, "but I'm with 'Mione in this one, the wizarding community can be pretty judgy when they want to."

"We haven't done any practising!" Hermione gave a start, looking at the time on her wristwatch. "We were going to do the Impediment Curse! We'll have to really get down to it tomorrow! Come on, Harry, you need to get some sleep."

Hermione and Ron stood up as well as them, then Mel stopped, watching them climb up the stairs. Harry noticed and stayed behind as well, giving her a questioning look.

"I wonder," She said quietly. "How different our lives would be if any of those things had never happened... D'you think it'd be completely different from what it is now?"

"Maybe," Harry shrugged. "My parents would be alive, we wouldn't be neighbors..."

"We would still be friends, though, wouldn't we? But maybe not best friends," She frowned. "Is it wrong that I'm a little glad that's not the case?"

"No," He smiled. "But we're not exactly friends, are we?"

"You know what I mean," She mumbled.

Harry got closer and kissed her temple. Having no height difference really was convenient for them. He finally mumbled a goodnight and left, Mel soon following his example and going to her bedroom.

"You're supposed to be studying for your exams as well, you don't need to put all your efforts into helping me," Harry told them one afternoon after lunch. "I don't mind practising on my own for a while, you know?"

"Don't worry about it," Hermione said, "at least we'll get top marks in Defense Against the Dark Arts. We'd never have found out about all these hexes in class."

"Good training for when we're all Aurors," said Ron casually.

Mel and Harry shared an amused look.

"Hermione's right," She added. "I don't do any of these in my lessons either, it's more of an academic thing, most unusual when I do practical magic. I read and read until my eyes get all heavy. I know a lot of things about magic but it's not quite the same as knowing how to do it."

"I bet it's ten times easier than this," Harry groaned, cleaning his robes after falling on his butt for the third time thanks to a hex he hadn't been able to avoid.

"You're still doing really well, though," Hermione said, reading the list she'd made to make sure Harry had a full training. "Some of these are bound to come in handy."

"Come and look at this," Ron was looking out the window, squinting. "What's Malfoy doing?"

They all huddled up in front of the window. Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle were sitting down the shadow of a big willow tree, Malfoy was holding his hand up to his mouth and speaking into it, the other two were looking around with silly smirks on their faces.

"He looks like he's using a walkie-talkie," said Harry.

"He can't be– I've told you, those sorts of things don't work around Hogwarts," Hermione shrugged it off, quickly losing interest. "Come on, Harry, let's try that Shield Charm again."

"Look at this," Harry said in a tone of exasperation, he was reading Sirius' letter to Mel. "'If Voldemort is really getting stronger again, my priority is to ensure your safety. He cannot hope to lay hands on you while you are under Dumbledore's protection, but all the same, take no risks: Concentrate on getting through that maze safely, and then we can turn our attention to other matters.' Makes me sound like I have no control!"

"He's just stressed like we all are," Mel responded lazily, barely looking up from her Charms essay. "Give it a month and he'll be back to his usual self, joking about eating rats and all..."

"I already did all I could to prepare myself," Harry folded the letter and prompted his head on one hand, watching her as she continued writing. "The task is tomorrow, I don't think there's anything else I can do..."

"You sound extremely calm about it," She said.

"I just think that whatever comes, at least this time I'm prepared. Besides, it's the end of the tournament, which means..." He raised his free hand and grabbed a lock of her hair, playing with it like he often did. "It's all going to be over, and Skeeter will be out of here."

"We won't have to worry about our love lives being published for everyone to see..." She nodded.

"And I'll be able to take you to Hogsmeade on a proper date and all..." He smiled, his mind drifting to a brighter future.

"What a gentleman," Mel put down her quill and admired her work with pride. "I'm all done! No more homework!" She looked up to meet his gaze. She frowned a little, slightly confused. "Is everything okay?"

"Espectacular," Harry smiled broadly, releasing the lock of hair and kissing her cheek.

"Snuffles sent me a good-luck card!" Harry said, sounding delighted.

She leaned closer to examine it. It was a piece of parchment with a paw print that Mel found adorable, Harry seemed to like it as well.

"Emily didn't send anything though, d'you think she dislikes me now because of all those articles?" He asked jokingly.

"Oh yes, I reckon she must hate you for being such a conceited little git," Mel snorted.

Hermione choked on her drink as she held onto the Daily Prophet an owl delivered to her a few seconds earlier.

"What?" asked her three friends.

"Nothing..." Hermione tried to hide the paper, but Ron was quicker.

"No way," He breathed. "Not today. That old cow..."

"What?" Harry insisted. "Rita Skeeter again?"

"Bad news?" Mel raised a brow.

"No," Ron said, hastily pushing the paper out of sight.

"It's about me, isn't it?" said Harry.

"No," said Ron, but his voice broke a little in the end.

Just as if on queue Draco Malfoy shouted from across the Great Hall:

"Hey, Potter! Potter! How's your head? You feeling all right? Sure you're not going to go berserk on us?"

"Oh, bloody hell," Mel frowned. "What is it now?"

"Let me see it," Harry turned to Ron. "Give it here."

Harry took the paper from a very reluctant Ron. A picture of him was displayed on the front page, with the title right under it:

HARRY POTTER "DISTURBED AND DANGEROUS"

The boy who defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is unstable and possibly dangerous, writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent. Alarming evidence has recently come to light about Harry Potter's strange behaviour, which casts doubts upon his suitability to compete in a demanding competition like the Triwizard Tournament, or even to attend Hogwarts School.

Potter, the Daily Prophet can exclusively reveal, regularly collapses at school, and is often heard to complain of pain in the scar on his forehead (a relic of the curse with which You-Know-Who attempted to kill him). On Monday last, midway through a Divination lesson, your Daily Prophet reporter witnessed Potter storming from the class, claiming that his scar was hurting too badly to continue studying.

It is possible, say top experts at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, that Potter's brain was affected by the attack inflicted upon him by You-Know-Who, and that his insistence that the scar is still hurting is an expression of his deep-seated confusion.

"He might even be pretending," said one specialist. "This could be a plea for attention."

The Daily Prophet, however, has unearthed worrying facts about Harry Potter that Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, has carefully concealed from the wizarding public.

"Potter can speak Parseltongue," reveals Draco Malfoy, a Hogwarts fourth year. "There were a lot of attacks on students a couple of years ago, and most people thought Potter was behind them after they saw him lose his temper at a dueling club and set a snake on another boy. It was all hushed up, though. But he's made friends with werewolves and giants too. We think he'd do anything for a bit of power."

Parseltongue, the ability to converse with snakes, has long been considered a Dark Art. Indeed, the most famous Parselmouth of our times is none other than You-Know-Who himself. A member of the Dark Force Defense League, who wished to remain unnamed, stated that he would regard any wizard who could speak Parseltongue "as worthy of investigation. Personally, I would be highly suspicious of anybody who could converse with snakes, as serpents are often used in the worst kinds of Dark Magic, and are historically associated with evildoers." Similarly, "anyone who seeks out the company of such vicious creatures as werewolves and giants would appear to have a fondness for violence."

Albus Dumbledore should surely consider whether a boy such as this should be allowed to compete in the Triwizard Tournament. Some fear that Potter might resort to the Dark Arts in his desperation to win the tournament, the third task of which takes place this evening.

"Gone off me a bit, hasn't she?" said Harry casually as Mel finished reading, to which she only sighed.

"How did she know your scar hurt in Divination?" Ron asked. "There's no way she was there, there's no way she could've heard —"

"The window was open," said Harry. "I opened it to breathe."

"You were at the top of North Tower!" Hermione exclaimed. "Your voice couldn't have carried all the way down to the grounds!"

"Well, you're the one who's supposed to be researching magical methods of bugging!" said Harry. "You tell me how she did it!"

"No idea," Mel shook her head. "Unless she's learned to train insects and have them all around the school, which would give the bugging a whole new meaning..."

"Bugging," said Hermione, deep in thought. "It's like... like..."

"Are you all right?" said Ron.

"Yes... I've had an idea– I think I know... because then no one would be able to see... even Moody... and she'd have been able to get onto the window ledge... but she's not allowed... she's definitely not allowed... I think we've got her! Just give me two seconds in the library — just to make sure!" She stood up at once and left the Great Hall in a hurry.

"Oi! We've got our History of Magic exam in ten minutes–! Blimey," Ron turned back to them, "she must really hate that Skeeter woman to risk missing the start of an exam. What're you going to do in Binns's class, Harry — read again?"

"S'pose so," Harry shrugged.

"I wish I'd know what she found," Mel said, looking out to where Hermione had gone. "Maybe if I go after her..." But her thoughts were interrupted as Professor McGonagall came to them.

"Potter, the champions are congregating in the chamber of the Hall after breakfast, Miss Dumbledore, you and Flint are needed at the entrance now," Before Mel could object she added, "Your teacher has been notified and knows you'll be arriving at your examination a bit late, as well as Flint. He'll give you extra time."

"But the task's not till tonight!" Harry's eyes widened.

"I'm aware of that, Potter. The champions' families are invited to watch the final task, you know. This is simply a chance for you to greet them."

Harry and Mel stared at her in disbelief after she left.

"She doesn't expect the Dursleys to turn up, does she?" Harry asked in horror.

"Dunno," said Ron. "I'd better hurry, I'm going to be late for Binns. See you later..."

"I'd better go too," Mel sighed, getting up as well. "I wouldn't worry if I were you, I doubt the Dursleys would have the nerve to show up." She kissed the top of his head, Harry gave her an anxious smile and she walked away a bit reluctantly. At the entrance she was met with a lovely sight:

Mrs Weasley, Bill, and her own mother were there, next to them were Mr and Mrs Diggory, a woman that looked a lot like Fleur along with Fleur's little sister, and two wizards that could only be Krum's parents.

"Mum!" She ran up to the woman and hugged her tightly, doing the same with Mrs Weasley and Bill. "What are you doing here?"

"Can't miss the last task now, can we?" Her mother smiled. "I tried to convince Remus to come as well, but he thought that people wouldn't react kindly after the whole scandal of last year."

Mel's attention got caught on three figures on the other side of the hall. Erick was standing next to his cousin, and on Jo's side, there was a very old man on a wheelchair. They seemed to be arguing with him.

"I'll be with you in a moment," She told her mother and the Weasleys. "Hold on..."

She walked up to Erick shyly and cleared her throat, the boy gave a start and turned to look at her.

"Yes?" He asked in a grumpy voice.

"We have to take the families to the chamber... is everything okay?"

"No– Yes," He looked over his shoulder and back at her. "My Grandad had a relapse yesterday but insisted on coming anyway. Joseph and I had to force him to sit so he doesn't tire himself out, he's throwing a tantrum."

"We can always send him back via floo," Joseph stepped in, half-joking. "Hi, Mel!"

"Hi," Mel beamed, she couldn't help but feel a little excited every time he'd talk to her.

"Well well," Mr Flint spoke over his grandson's shoulder. "You must be Miss Dumbledore!"

"Good morning Sir," She tilted her head to see him.

"My, you're pretty!" He laughed loudly, Mel found it endearing. "I see the resemblance between you and your father– Great man he was, he used to visit my store often. How's your mother?"

"She's right over there," She pointed over her shoulder. "Came to wish Harry good luck, he's my friend, you see."

"I've heard," He looked at his grandson with a knowing smile. "Oh! Haven't introduced myself, have I? Eliot Flint at your service dear girl– You've made quite the impression in my family. Erick's told me about you, and Joseph mentions you at least twice in all his letters!"

"Oh!" Mel didn't know how to respond to that, so instead, she looked at the boys.

Joseph spoke first, noticing the way Erick was positively glaring at his Grandfather.

"You're a great host," He admitted, "I dare say better than my cousin..."

"Thanks," Erick replied with a scoff.

"Well, it's true!" Joseph laughed. "I barely got to talk to you during the school year, and even then you weren't much of a talker. I'm surprised you even mentioned Mel to our Grandad– Mind you, Mel, he doesn't talk about anyone at all, sometimes I suspect he fancies–"

"I talk enough!" He snapped. "Now, if you excuse us we have to take the families to the chamber– You two stay here. Let's go..." Erick grabbed Mel's arm and pulled her away.

"You know," She chuckled, "there's nothing wrong with caring about people."

"I care about people," He replied. "Which is why I feel like I've aged five years this term."

She laughed, stopping in the middle of the large group. They all turned to look at her, which caused her to feel a bit self-conscious. Luckily for her, Erick had no problems with talking to crowds.

"If you could follow us to the chamber, you'll see your kids in a moment," He said in his best formal and controlled voice. Mel got closer to her mum.

"Harry'll be ever so pleased about you coming! He was dreading the idea of his aunt and uncle..."

"The day a Dursley sets a foot in this castle hell will freeze," Her mother laughed.

"I just couldn't miss a chance to come back, really," Bill explained. "All is exactly as I remember..."

Once in the chamber, the families divided into smaller groups. The champions walked in, all except for Harry. Erick left to present his exams and she was about to go as well when he came in, looking around curiously before his eyes landed on the Weasleys and her mum. Then he approached them with a broad smile.

"Surprise!" Mrs Weasley said once he got to them. "Thought we'd come and watch you, Harry!"

"You all right? Charlie wanted to come, but he couldn't get time off. He said you were incredible against the Horntail."

"My little boy!" Emily pulled Harry in for a hug. "You've been so brave this whole year! All the things you've done– never been more proud of you!"

"This is really nice of you," Harry muttered. "I thought for a moment — the Dursleys —"

"Hmm," said Mrs Weasley sternly.

"Sorry for that," Emily laughed, finally letting go. "But the Dursleys won't get to call themselves your family on these grounds as long as I'm alive."

Mel watched them interact, in a way, they were her little family. She couldn't wait to tell her mother about the recent events regarding her relationship with the boy.

"It's great being back here," said Bill. "Haven't seen this place for five years. Is that picture of the mad knight still around? Sir Cadogan?"

"Oh yeah," said Harry and Mel at the same time.

"And the Fat Lady?"

"She was here in my time," mentioned Mrs Weasley. "She gave me such a telling off one night when I got back to the dormitory at four in the morning —"

"What were you doing out of your dormitory at four in the morning?" Bill gaped.

"Your father and I had been for a nighttime stroll. He got caught by Apollyon Pringle — he was the caretaker in those days — your father's still got the marks."

"Fancy giving us a tour?" said Bill, looking at Mel and Harry.

"Yeah, okay," said Harry.

"Oh, I can't," She pouted, "my exams..."

"How about we walk you to class?" Emily offered. "This place is full of memories! I'd love to see the halls one more time..."

As they moved to the door, Amos Diggory spoke to Harry.

"There you are, are you?" He sneered. "Bet you're not feeling quite as full of yourself now Cedric's caught you up on points, are you?"

"What?" Harry stopped.

"Ignore him," said Cedric, giving his father a look. "He's been angry ever since Rita Skeeter's article about the Triwizard Tournament — you know when she made out you were the only Hogwarts champion."

"Didn't bother to correct her, though, did he?" said Amos Diggory. "Still... you'll show him, Ced. Beaten him once before, haven't you?"

"Rita Skeeter goes out of her way to cause trouble, Amos!" Mrs Weasley said. "I would have thought you'd know that, working at the Ministry!"

"Honestly Amos, believing a word she says it's the same as asking to a dog what he thinks about the weather," Emily added.

Mel didn't need the extra time, in the end, she finished her exam at the same time as the rest of the group. Ron asked her if Harry's relatives were in fact there and she answered with a mysterious 'you'll see'.

When they went to the Great Hall for lunch, Ron was surprised to see his brother and mum there.

"Mum — Bill! What're you doing here?" He looked at Mel's mum. "Hi, Em!"

"Come to watch Harry in the last task!" said Mrs Weasley. "I must say, it makes a lovely change, not having to cook. How was your exam?"

"Oh... okay. Couldn't remember all the goblin rebels' names, so I invented a few. It's all right," Ron said to calm her mother's spirits, "they're all called stuff like Bodrod the Bearded and Urg the Unclean; it wasn't hard."

Hermione turned up a bit later, Harry tried to find out what she'd discovered about Skeeter, however, before he could finish his sentence Hermione shut him up, her attention moving to the mothers of her friends.

"Hello, Hermione," said Mrs Weasley, rather coldly.

"Hello," said Hermione shyly.

"Mrs Weasley, you didn't believe that rubbish Rita Skeeter wrote in Witch Weekly, did you? Because Hermione's not my girlfriend," Harry was quick to point out.

"Oh! No — of course, I didn't!" Mrs Weasley blushed lightly.

"Was it all rubbish, though?" Emily asked pointedly.

"What'd you mean?" Mel asked.

"Dunno, something about you and that Diggory boy," The woman fought back a smirk, "and a french boy..."

Mel inhaled sharply and choked on her food. She shook her head energetically as Hermione patted her back harshly.

"That was rubbish too, yes," Harry added, kicking Ron's leg under the table so he wouldn't speak.

"Okay then," Emily replied. "Not that I wouldn't support you, but if my daughter's dating someone, I'd hate to find out through the Daily Prophet."

"Oh, yes," Mel glared at her mother playfully. "I'm well aware of how invested you are in my love life."

Emily winked at her without saying anything, Harry gave her a questioning look but Mel shook her head, brushing it off like it was nothing.

The way the Emily’s eyes shone throughout the day helped Harry picture her at fifteen-years-old, walking around the castle with his parents and Matthew, much like Mel: happy and beautiful. Carefree, with dreams to spare.

Mel's exams went by without any troubles, and by the time they had the feast, she sat next to him, holding his hand under the table while no one else was looking in an attempt to ease his nerves.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Dumbledore said. "In five minutes' time, I will be asking you to make your way down to the Quidditch field for the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament. Will the champions please follow Mr Bagman down to the stadium now."

As they got up, the Gryffindors broke into applause for Harry; the Weasleys, Emily and Hermione wished him good luck, and they finally left the Great Hall to enter the quiet evening.

"How're your nerves?" Erick asked her. "I must say you're keeping it together better than before..."

"I've grown used to the knot in my stomach," She shrugged. "After the tenth time, this turns into a routine."

He chuckled lowly.

"My Grandad liked you, apparently you reminded him a lot to one of his girlfriends."

"Oh," Mel frowned, "...thanks?"

"I didn't know how to respond to that either."

"I think he's nice," She said. "Very lovely."

"Yeah," Erick replied, a look of fondness betraying his usual cold demeanour.

"Hey," Harry quickly caught up with them, looking considerably more nervous than before. "You remember what the jelly-leg jinx counter spell was? Because I keep trying to remember and–"

"Glasses," Mel scowled. "Don't do that, if you keep repeating things over and over you'll get them all mixed up!"

"Focus on the fact that you got here in a quite respectable place," Erick added. "Unexpected, but definitely something to be proud of."

"Er, thanks," Harry said.

"You just pull through this one, then it'll be over," She gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "You'll be okay."

He nodded, his eyes fixed on the tall maze ahead. Erick and Mel got separated again, the boy had to guide the students to their seats making sure there were no empty spaces and Mel was with the champions.

She walked past Moody and brushed past him, a wave of something hit her and she stopped in place, feeling extremely dizzy.

"Is everything all right, Miss Dumbledore?" Moody asked, eyeing her up in a calculating way.

"I..." She stared at him, wondering why the feeling reminded her so much to Riddle's diary. "Yeah... just nervous, I think."

Moody nodded once and kept walking, Mel did the same.

"This way!" Erick told the students as he walked backwards. "McLaggen, if you can muster a bit of brain to pay attention to what I'm saying, there's a seat right behind you– No, you idiot, I said behind–!"

"Hello?" Emily said to the boy. "You may not know me, but I think you've been reading my books all summer... I'm Emily Sultens."

Erick's cheeks turned pink at the statement. He cleared his throat and raised a stiff hand to shake hers.

"Nice to meet you, ma'am," He said a bit hurriedly.

"Just wanted to let you know, if there's anything we can do to help– more books, or even have you over a few days during summer... I'm happy to help, kid."

"Thanks," He replied clumsily. "I should- uh, I should go back..."

"Sure," Emily smiled, moving out of his way. "See you..."

Erick didn't respond, he merely nodded and walked back to where the champions and his teachers were.

"We are going to be patrolling the outside of the maze," Professor McGonagall explained. "If you get into difficulty, and wish to be rescued, send red sparks into the air, and one of us will come and get you, do you understand?"

The champions nodded.

"Off you go, then!" said Bagman.

Mel gave Harry one last hug before leaving.

"Good luck," She said. "I'll be looking after you."

"I know," He smiled. "You always are."

"And I'm brilliant at it," The girl grinned, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before finally stepping back.

"Ready?" Erick asked her as they were to part in opposite directions around the maze.

"I think so," Mel replied, holding onto her wand tightly.

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@dee123ksha @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @stardusthigh @mikariell95 @vernon-dursley @thesuitelifeofafangirl @tomshollandz @kylosleftbuttcheek @reverse-hxlland @bloodorangemoonlight @omiwashere @t-rexs-world

#hp fanfic #twoidiots writing #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter xoc #WITT fic

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prlsvaus · 6 years ago

Photo

HPHM Character Profile

Thanks to @cynicaljapanophile for creating it. I’m tagging @sirfluffig, @weasleyismyking540, @heleneplays and everyone who wants to participate!

General Information -

Name: Letha Arvilla Hespera Shacklebolt

Age: 16 (currently)

Gender: Female

Nickname(s):

Capella (by mother, and maternal grandmother; from Latin capella literally “little she-goat”, this relates to her star sign)

Little Wing (by father)

Date of Birth: 19 January 1972

Astrological/ Zodiac Sign: Capricorn

Ethnicity: English, Italian (maternal grandmother), Nigerian (paternal great-grandmother)

Nationality: British

Species: Witch

Blood Type: AB Rh+

Blood Status: Pure-Blood

Family:

Father: Weldon Shacklebolt -

Despite coming from one of the oldest wizarding families absolutely despised ideology of pure-blood supremacy.

By the start of the war, he was approached by Voldemort with proposition to join his cause. After that, he took his family from their London house and hid them in the country manor. And then without wasting time contacted the Order of the Phoenix and became a member.

Needless to say Voldemort took it as a great insult but despite all his rage Weldon successfully opposed his forces almost to the end of the war.

The luck left him in 1981 when he was ambushed by superior forces of Death Eaters led by the Dark Lord himself. Voldemort took great pleasure to personally end life of a man who offended him so.

Attended Hogwarts – Slytherin.Could cast corporeal patronus - Unicorn. Wand – cypress, unicorn hair.

Later when Letha had dreams about him, he always appear in the form of a great white unicorn.

Mother: Danai Shacklebolt (née Marwood) -

Just as her mother, she is a seer of great talent. Over the years, the Department of Mysteries repeatedly tried to pressure her to work with them for the “greater good”. She had none of it.

Instead, she opened a salon where she makes predictions for a selected few for hefty sum of galleons. Cynical? Yes. But she considers it’s better alternative than to shove the results of her work on a dusty shelf somewhere in the Department of Mysteries.

Predicted her husband’s death and her son’s disappearance but were unable to stop either.

English/Italy heritage. Born in Colobraro, Italy (which is totally a magic town)

Thanks to her gift suffers from terrible migraines. Only tea from willow bark can help ease them.

Has an affinity with plants. Spends great amount of time in the manor’s greenhouse

Attended Hogwarts – Slytherin. Wand – silver lime, dragon heartstring.

Paternal Grandfather: Cyrus Shacklebolt -

English/Nigerian heritage.

Was high ranking member of Wizengamot but resigned along with Tiberius Ogden and Griselda Marchbanks in protest due to Cornelius Fudge’s appointment of Dolores Umbridge as High Inquisitor at Hogwarts and the continuing campaign by the Ministry and the Daily Prophet to discredit Albus Dumbledore and Harry Potter.

Eccentric with infinite number of special interests. His free time filled with experiments without any practical use, the only measure of success he accepts is his own entertainment.

But his main specialty is alchemy. This interest got him in close friendly relationship with Albus Dumbledore and Nicholas Flamel.

He married Alcyone Black, the only daughter of Phineas Black disowned by her famous grandfather. Their marriage were a happy one but brief. As brilliant botanist, Alcyone traveled over the world and collected interesting and dangerous plant specimen. Her life cut short in 1966 in the manor’s greenhouse by one especially devious Amazonian flower. Cyrus was unable to produce a patronus ever since.

Natural legilimens, trained Jacob and Letha in the art from a young age.

Attended Hogwarts – Gryffindor. Wand – cedar, phoenix feather.

Uncle: Kingsley Shacklebolt -

Letha’s favorite uncle and key male figure in her life after Cyrus.

Lend a great support to a crumbling family after his brother’s death and Jacob’s disappearance.

Not for a second believed Jacob was mad or wrong, on the contrary, did all what was in his power trying to search for him. Even began a full-blown investigation in the Arour Office but to no success.

It was thanks to him Letha came to Hogwarts with great experience in dueling outpacing all of her peers.

Attended Hogwarts – Ravenclaw. Wand – poplar, dragon heartstring.

Grand Uncle: Wesley Shacklebolt -

Second younger sibling of Cyrus Shacklebolt.

He’s celebrated winged horse breeder and trainer. He owns the finest stables in the UK. Although Laurentia Fletwock (his lifelong rival) can and will argue. During his (currently) thirty-year career, he conditioned sixty-two stakes winners.

Manage the estate Wesley helps his wife Lorna with her mischievous little crup Wishbone.

Letha devotes sometime of her summer holidays to work in the stables with the horses and to participate in the races.

Attended Hogwarts – Gryffindor. Wand – spruce, dragon heartstring.

Grand Aunt: Rosina Shacklebolt -

Youngest sibling of Cyrus Shacklebolt.

Renowned epidemiologist. She became well known after she created improved version of dragon pox cure. But she still hopes to find a cure that could prevent the disease.

Lives almost all the time in Nice with her partner Gerard Villepin where they experience their regular honeymoon.

Encourages Letha’s interest in medicine.

Attended Hogwarts – Ravenclaw. Wand – walnut, dragon heartstring.

Great Aunt: Marion Shacklebolt -

First child of Wesley Shacklebolt and Lorna née Fabble.

Works for the Ministry as an Auror. She and Kingsley run a competition who is more successful at their job.

Unlike Kingsley believed that Jacob brought his fate upon himself and should own it.

Will die 2 may 1998 at the battle of Hogwarts, protecting kids from Death Eaters. Order of Merlin postmortem.

Attended Hogwarts – Slytherin. Wand – blackthorn, dragon heartstring.

Great Uncle: Julius Shacklebolt -

Second child of Wesley Shacklebolt and Lorna née Fabble.

Magizoologist of some importance. Spends almost all his time driving around African continent studying local fauna.

Has especial fascination for phoenixes. Writes a book about them.

Works closely with Africans different Departments for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures helping them against poachers.

Attended Hogwarts – Hufflepuff. Wand – larch, unicorn hair.

Brother: Jacob Shacklebolt -

Big brother, Letha loves him dearly but the more she learns about him the more exasperated she becomes.

Jacob has almost Arthur Weasley level fascination with cars. That’s why he chose Muggle studies instead of Divination, but to his disappointment in this course were a lot fewer cars than he thought. His grand project was bewitching a vintage 1957 jaguar on which he spent the whole summer. On his fifth year he traveled to Hogwarts with Duncan and Olivia on it.

One summer picked up sax and actually became quite decent player.

Was Slytherin quidditch captain in a position of chaser. While he was captain Slytherin team never lost a team cup.

Attended Hogwarts – Slytherin. Wand – yew, dragon heartstring.

Affiliation(s)/ Organization(s):

Shacklebolt Family

Weldon – Order of the Phoenix.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Occupation(s):

12-18 years – Student (fifth year);

19-28 years - Independent researcher, curse breaker;

28-49 yeas – Head of the Department of Mysteries;

49 - years – Supreme Mugwump;

52 - years – Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Magical Characteristics -

Form of Boggart:

Complete obscurity. Don’t know how boggart will show this.

Form of Patronus: Phoenix

Form of Riddikulus:

No idea.

What do they see in the Mirror of Erised?:

Jacob alive and well.

Wand(s)

-Wood: Elder -Core: Phoenix feather

-Length: Thirteen and a half inches -Flexibility: Hard Description:

Elder wood - The rarest wand wood of all, and reputed to be deeply unlucky, the elder wand is trickier to master than any other. It contains powerful magic, but scorns to remain with any owner who is not the superior of his or her company; it takes a remarkable wizard to keep the elder wand for any length of time. The old superstition, ‘wand of elder, never prosper,’ has its basis in this fear of the wand, but in fact, the superstition is baseless, and those foolish wandmakers who refuse to work with elder do so more because they doubt they will be able to sell their products than from fear of working with this wood. The truth is that only a highly unusual person will find their perfect match in elder, and on the rare occasion when such a pairing occurs, I take it as certain that the witch or wizard in question is marked out for a special destiny. An additional fact that I have unearthed during my long years of study is that the owners of elder wands almost always feel a powerful affinity with those chosen by rowan.

Phoenix Feather Core - This is the rarest core type. Phoenix feathers are capable of the greatest range of magic, though they may take longer than either unicorn or dragon cores to reveal this. They show the most initiative, sometimes acting of their own accord, a quality that many witches and wizards dislike. Phoenix feather wands are always the pickiest when it comes to potential owners, for the creature from which they are taken is one of the most independent and detached in the world. These wands are the hardest to tame and to personalize, and their allegiance is usually hard won.

Hard Flexibility - A wand of this flexibility is very difficult to work with and its loyalty is not won easily. Hard wands are great for complex and advanced levels of magic, so beginning wizards and witches may find extra difficulty with this wand when it doesn’t perform well for simple magic. As such, this type of wand is best suited for wizards and witches who are gifted, stubborn, and never give up. Some people may find them intimidating or difficult to approach.

Animagus: Phoenix (unregistered)

Amortentia: Complete absence of smell.

Appearance -

Height: 5′9″ / 175 cm (currently)

Weight: 124 lbs

Complexion (skin tone/ conditions):

Dark brown

Porcelain smooth and always warm to the touch.

Generally soft, with surprisingly calloused hands.

Hair Color/ Style:

Darkest black you can imagine without the blue tinge.

Silky glossy straight mane of hairs.

Length is either to bottom of shoulder blades or just above the tops of the shoulders.

Normally wears it down or up in a ponytail.

Eye Color: Dark-brown

Hogwarts Information -

Worst Class(es): Generally speaking she doesn’t have worst or best classes, she makes a point to excel in every class even if she doesn’t like one.

Herbology - She isn’t squeamish but she doesn’t like digging around in dung either, that’s simple.

Best Class(es):

Charms – She has natural talent for charms and truly loves the subject and professor Flitwick can make any lesson magical.

Transfiguration – The nature of transfiguration fascinates her and systematic, exact magical discipline that is transfiguration provides best challenge for her scientifically inclined mind.

Potions – Despite Snape’s tangible antipathy, she truly loves this class and have an affinity for it, which he cannot but admit. Also sometimes, it can be fun to move from potions to snarking.

Alchemy – She adopted the love for this subject from her grandfather and started to learn it long before it actually started at Hogwarts (as with all other subjects actually)

Least Favourite Teacher(s):

Professor Trelawney – Knowing first hand what’s a divination really like she doesn’t understand why this old fraud still holds the position. This does a disservice to the school as a whole.

Favourite Teacher(s):

Professor Flitwick - He has always been on of her favorite teachers - great teacher, passion for his job, kind and helpful to his students, overall, understanding, and warm person.

Professor McGonagall – She greatly respects her and through her strict stern demeanor, she sees a great magnanimous and caring woman with surprising dry sense of humor.

Professor Dumbledore – Since her first year in Hogwarts Dumbledore took a great interest in her future. Conversations in his cabinet became almost a weekly occasions. She enjoys his aura of serenity, his great intellect and wisdom, his strange sense of humor. Their conversations provide her food for thought, which she craves.

Quidditch: Quidditch is not her cup of tea but still she ardently supports her friends. If we talking about magical sports she’s more winged horse racing girl.

Favourite Spell(s):

Fire spells (e.g. Incendio, Firestorm, Flagrante Curse, Fiendfyre, Protego Diabolica, Scorching Spell)

Any spells that can knock back an opponent or cause an explosion or desintegrate (e.g. Bombarda, Confringo, Depulso, Everte Statum, Reductor Curse )

Disillusionment Charm

Protego

Expecto Patronum

Sectumsempra

Obliviate

Imperius Curse

Nebulus

Protean Charm

Trivia -

(Random facts about them, future job, face claim, theme song, etc.)

Random Facts:

Speaks English and French, Italian, Latin, Ancient Greek a little Nigerian.

Plays piano

Slytherin Prefect, in future Head Girl

Has an Eagle Owl

A True Neutral

Face claim: Sienna King

Natural Legilimens as Jacob and her grandfather she often lets her mind ‘wonder’. It doesn’t mean she that she doesn’t get personal boundaries it means she choose to ignore them for her own advantage.

Positives: Charismatic, assertive and farsighted;

Negatives: Vain, manipulative and condescending;

She is manipulative not of an ill will but because she sincerely believes she knows better than everyone else does.

Has innate need to succeed at everything,

She is determined, charismatic and magnetic. People are drawn to her attitude and personality.

She can sometimes be too calculated and thus, cold. People who will cross her will get to feel her wrath. No one will ever want to mess with her again.

Even though she’s wise and intuitive, there are occasions when she’s mistaken, however rarely acknowledges it, because she believes she’s always correct.

Ultimately her goal is to leave her mark in the world.

#hogwarts mystery #hphm #jacob's sibling #letha shacklebolt #my ocs #my edits

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aidanchaser · 5 years ago

Text

Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince: Everyone Lives AU

Table of Contents beta’d by @ageofzero and @magic713m

Chapter Seven The Slug Club

Harry was burning up inside, but he didn’t know who to talk to about it. He knew, with absolute certainty, that Draco had been up to no good at Knockturn Alley, and he also knew he could not talk to anyone about it.

Harry’s parents worried about him constantly and he could not imagine a worse way to break their trust than by slipping away under the Invisibility Cloak to Knockturn Alley.

Actually, he could imagine one thing. He could have run off to face Voldemort alone without telling anyone. He imagined that would be worse than sneaking off to stalk Draco Malfoy, but probably not much.

James and Lily didn’t even know that Harry had run into Draco at all. Sirius had said nothing of the incident in Madam Malkin’s — Harry figured it was to spare himself the embarrassment of recounting an encounter with Narcissa, but he wasn’t sure. They hadn’t talked about it.

The Potters hadn’t talked about much that had happened in Diagon Alley, actually.

Hagrid had been assigned as their additional security, and it was he and Sirius who had taken Harry to get school supplies with his friends while James and Lily had gone shopping for James’s eye. Harry was glad for an opportunity to spend time with his friends, and glad they didn’t expect him to join him while they found a replacement eye for James. Harry was not sure he could have handled that guilt.

So James and Lily did not talk about their shopping trip, and Harry did not talk about his. The best they could do was discuss some of the exciting products they’d seen at Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. James and Sirius had insisted to Fred and George that a “Marauders” line could be worked in, and Fred and George said they would be happy to receive potential product from those who had, in a way, been their muses.

But that brief moment was one bright spot on an overall very bleak summer.

Remus had left as soon as he was well enough to Apparate. He hadn’t gone with them to Diagon Alley, which, while not strange, was disappointing. Harry wondered if he would come back at the end of the month for the next full moon. It would be nice to have Remus there to see him off to Hogwarts, as he had every year before, full moon permitting.

Harry found himself wishing he could confide his concerns about Draco in Remus, more than anyone else in his family. James and Lily would worry, as they always did, as they had to as his parents, and scold him for running off. Sirius might be safe to tell, but Sirius tended to overreact, and might tell James and Lily. But Remus would let Harry talk, keep a level head, and ask the right questions to help Harry truly understand what he, Ron, Neville, and Hermione had seen.

The cloak hadn’t totally covered all four of them — it fell to their knees — but Harry was fairly confident they hadn’t been seen. Knockturn Alley had enough nooks and crannies to duck into to avoid being caught. Unfortunately, though they hadn’t been seen, they hadn’t seen very much themselves, as Hermione had been very quick to point out.

“Anyone can purchase from Borgin and Burke’s without making it about You-Know-Who,” she’d said.

Harry had wanted to argue that yes, anyone could, but anyone who was purchasing from Burke was highly suspicious by default, but that was when James and Lily had approached to ask if he was ready to leave, and he hadn’t been able to finish his conversation with his friends.

He was disappointed about that on a second count as well: he’d hoped he could tell them the prophecy. The more Harry thought about it, the more he knew he needed to share his secret with Ron, Hermione, and Neville. Diagon Alley just hadn’t provided him with a good opportunity. He hoped the Hogwarts Express might work better.

The morning of September first arrived much sooner than Harry had expected. He was at once eager to get back to school with his friends and nervous to leave his parents. He’d enjoyed being home with them, all guilt and secrets aside, and he worried what trouble they would get into when he and Neville weren’t at home.

Harry, while packing up his things, recalled a lengthy letter his father had sent him during his second year. James had described the struggle of being in hiding, unable to help, but doing it because they knew it was what they needed to do to keep Harry safe. Harry felt like going to Hogwarts was like going into hiding, disappearing into Dumbledore’s protection. He imagined the irony of asking his mum to write every day, and told himself he couldn’t worry about his parents. Worrying wasn’t actually helpful.

Getting to King’s Cross Station was more work than it ever had been before. Harry remembered the year Regulus Black had first escaped Azkaban, when his family had stayed at the Leaky Cauldron to be escorted from there. This time, the Potters — and Sirius and Neville — simply Floo’ed straight to the Leaky Cauldron on September first, and were met by the Longbottoms and two Aurors.

“Cedric!” Harry said in surprise.

“Williamson,” James said, and shook the other Auror’s hand.

Williamson wore a nicely tailored red velvet suit, and had long white hair tied back in a ponytail. He shook James and Lily’s hands with equally strong grips. “Mr. and Mrs. Potter. A pleasure.” He did not sound especially pleased. “Did you have a smooth trip?” he asked, and quirked a thick white eyebrow.

“Smooth as a puffskein’s fluff,” Lily answered.

Harry wondered for a moment if his mother had mixed up a Muggle phrase with a wizard phrase, but Williamson nodded once, and they were off. It hadn’t been a silly phrase — it had been a code.

Once outside, they ran into Frank and Alice Longbottom, who were similarly given a question and responded with a slightly odd answer.

“Weather holding?” Williamson asked.

“Tight as a grindylow’s grip,” Frank had answered, then hugged Neville tightly.

Alice kissed his forehead and led him to a black car with tinted windows. “We’ll head to King’s Cross in style,” she said, and together, all nine of them climbed inside the magically expanded Muggle automobile.

“Alright?” Cedric asked as he slipped into the seat beside Harry. “Haven’t heard from you.”

“Alright,” Harry said. “Been busy. Sirius has been teaching me Healers’ stuff.”

Cedric looked impressed.

“What about you?” Harry asked. “I thought you don’t get dangerous missions while training.”

“I get the public missions,” Cedric said, “and escorting Harry Potter to King’s Cross is very public. It’s a good thing these windows are tinted, or we might end up on the front page of The Daily Prophet as the Ministry’s gold star partners. We’ll have to be careful when we get to the station.”

King’s Cross was as crowded as ever, and Harry could see Aurors walking across the station, some in robes, some in Muggle plain clothes. He recognized a few, like the Prewett brothers, and a woman in an eye-patch that he’d met just before his trial last year — Marcy, maybe?

“I wore it better,” James grunted as they swept past her and towards the back of the train, where Harry could see Ron and Hermione waving to him.

James had purchased a monocle in Diagon Alley, since glasses over a glass eye was arguably redundant, but he didn’t wear it much. He still preferred his glasses, which ultimately helped to hide the fact that one of his eyes no longer moved with the other. The color in each eye, at least, was identical, thanks to Sirius’s excellent transfiguration work. At a passing glance, James looked no different. It was only if Harry tried to hold his father’s gaze for too long that his stomach turned with guilt.

“No sign of Tonks,” Sirius said, glancing around.

“She’s on another assignment,” Cedric said. Despite his warning about The Daily Prophet, he’d stayed with the Potters, while Williamson melted into the crowd, keeping the platform safe alongside the other Aurors.

Lily kissed Harry’s cheek. “You’ll be safe.”

Harry wondered if she was trying to reassure him or herself.

“You too, Mum.” Harry hugged her. It wasn’t their first hug since he’d found out about the prophecy, but it was the first hug that Harry truly meant, in all its length and tightness. He did not want to let his mother go. She squeezed back, harder than she had all summer, and Harry felt some of the weight in his chest lighten. At least she wasn’t still suffering the effects of Bellatrix’s fiery curse, if she could give and receive such rib-crushing embraces.

Harry blinked back tears, determined not to cry in front of all these people, in front of his friends, in front of Cedric. Now, on the brink of saying goodbye to his parents for four months, all of his bitterness and guilt felt ridiculous and childish. There were so many bigger things to worry about.

When he and Lily finally separated, James clapped him on the shoulder. “We’ll see you for Quidditch, yeah? Wouldn’t miss your first game as Captain for the world.”

Harry nodded. “Yeah. End of November.”

He recounted. Three months. In three months he would see his parents, and he would know they were safe once again.

“You’ll kick Slytherin’s ass,” Sirius said.

Harry forced himself to grin, and started to ask if Remus would be there, but he cut the question off before it reached his tongue. Remus hadn’t come home for the full moon this past week. He’d said he was spending it with other werewolves. They’d all hoped it was true, and if it was, Harry wasn’t sure Quidditch games would be an option for Remus this year.

“Maybe I’ll get stationed at Hogwarts that day,” Cedric said. “Be nice to catch a Quidditch match again.”

“That’d be great,” Harry said.

The train whistle blew. Harry gave another round of hasty hugs, as did Neville, and they hurried to the back of the train.

Their reunion with Ron and Hermione was full of hugs, but unfortunately brief. Harry was just about to ask if they could find a private car — he was slowly working up the courage to tell them the prophecy — when Hermione apologized, but she and Ron had to go to the prefect’s meeting.

“Oh,” Harry said. “Alright.”

“We won’t be too long,” Ron said. “Long as the new Head Boy and Girl don’t drawl on half as long as what’s-his-name did.”

“His name was Troy,” Hermione snapped. “We just saw him a few months ago — how could you already forget it?”

Ron shrugged, and his snappy response was lost as he and Hermione disappeared down the carriage.

Neville looked at Harry, as if Harry was the one who was going to find them an empty carriage. Well, he’d certainly do his best.

Harry slipped past a trio of girls who seemed to be gaping like they’d caught Viktor Krum in a locker room, and it wasn’t until Harry moved past them and they turned that he realized they were gaping at him. Harry took a moment to register that they were unreasonably short and hurried along with Neville.

They bumped into another girl, eyes just as wide as the ones they had passed, but hers were far more dreamy.

“Luna,” Harry said, surprised by the relief in his voice.

“Hi, Harry,” she smiled. “Hi, Neville.”

Harry glanced over her shoulder, but she seemed to be alone. “Ginny’s not with you?” and he was again surprised by the disappointment as he said it.

“Haven’t seen her,” Luna said. “I expect she’s gone off to find Dean Thomas, though.”

“Right.” Dean Thomas. Her boyfriend. Of course. That was alright, Harry told himself. He hadn’t exactly planned on sharing the prophecy with Ginny anyway, and he really hadn’t considered telling Luna, even if the two of them had gone with him to the Department of Mysteries.

“Well, how are you, Luna?” Harry asked, and started checking for empty compartments as they walked. He did his best to avoid eye contact with everyone in the corridors. He felt like a basilisk, petrifying everyone into stillness if he looked at them too long. He ignored the heat rushing to his cheeks and focused on Luna’s answer.

“Very well, thank you.” She followed closely on his heels, and the way people looked away as she stared at them made Harry not mind how close she was.

Finally, Harry opened the door to an empty compartment, and he ushered Luna and Neville inside.

“Blimey, Harry,” Neville said as he closed the door behind them. “They’re all staring at us because we’re with you.”

“You were both at the Ministry, too,” Harry said. “We were all in the Prophet.”

Neville scrunched up his nose and took Trevor out of his pocket. “I suppose, but I don’t think that’s why people are staring at —”

Whatever Neville was going to explain was lost as Trevor leaped from his hand and onto the floor.

Luna lifted her feet so Neville could scramble for Trevor, and put a pair of bright pink whimsical glasses on her face. Her grey eyes vanished behind iridescent lenses.

“Will we continue the D.A. this year?” she asked, in a tone that suggested their secret, rule-breaking, anti-Ministry organization was as casual as getting together for tea once a week.

Harry shrugged. “No point now that we’ve got rid of Umbridge, is there?” He wondered what sort of a teacher Slughorn would be like. He thought of how the man appreciated his comforts and wondered if he wouldn’t be any better than Umbridge. No, because Lily at least had liked him, on some level, so he couldn’t be as bad as Umbridge. He certainly couldn’t give out detentions that carved bloody words into the back of your hand.

“I liked the D.A.,” Neville said from beneath the train seat, still digging around for Trevor.

“I liked the D.A., too,” Luna said, though her eyes were on the copy of the Quibbler in her hands. “It was like having friends.”

Harry wasn’t sure if he should comfort Luna for such a pitiful statement, or laugh because it was a little bit funny. Before he could decide if he needed to reassure her or tease her, a high-pitched giggle that was definitely not Hermione or Ginny came from the other side of the compartment door.

“No you ask him,” a girl’s voice said.

“No you,” said another.

Harry ran through the list of girls he knew and drew a blank. He could not tell who was on the other side of the door, not until one of the girls shouldered it open.

She had long, dark curls that framed her face attractively, and a strong jaw that reminded Harry a bit of Cedric’s. Her lips were fuller, though, and her nose smaller, and her smile far more ambitious.

“Hi, Harry.” She spoke loudly, and her full lips pulled back into a wide smile. “I’m Romilda, Romilda Vane. Why don’t you join us in our compartment? You don’t have to sit with —” She put her hand to her mouth to hide it from Luna and mouthed, “them.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, all his initial assumption that she was attractive burned out in just seven words. Neville was halfway under a seat, and Luna looked like a Muggle Christmas tree and been turned inside out and then flipped right way around again, but this was exactly where Harry wanted to be.

“They’re my friends,” he said, perhaps more coldly than he’d meant to.

Romilda Vane blinked. “Oh. Okay.” And she and her giggling friends left.

“People expect you to have cooler friends than us,” said Luna.

“You are cool,” Harry said, with no hesitation in addressing Luna’s unusual statement this time. He knew it was sulky, but he folded his arms and sank into his seat. He kept his back to the window into the corridor, hoping people might not notice him. “They didn’t come to the Ministry and fight off a dozen Death Eaters with me.”

Neville extricated Trevor from a dust bunny and sat back on the seat. “We didn’t face him though. You did.”

Harry was not keen on remembering his fight with Voldemort. He had a feeling that, now that he knew the prophecy, the next time he faced the Dark Lord would be his last — whether it was his end, or Voldemort’s. It was a silly feeling. He was the Boy Who Lived, who had faced Voldemort not just as an infant, but several times since. None of them had been pleasant encounters, but Harry had survived each one. Who was to say when his and Voldemort’s last encounter would be?

But somewhere in his gut he knew he didn’t have many chances left.

He considered telling Luna and Neville the prophecy right there, just blurting it out in the carriage. But Luna was brutally honest, and Harry wasn’t sure he could take that response just now. And she might repeat it to someone else. At least it was unlikely they’d take her seriously.

“Harry’s the Chosen One, you know,” she might say to another girl in Ravenclaw, or whoever it was Luna was friends with when she wasn’t with the D.A.

And the other girl might reply, “Sure, Luna, whatever you say,” and go on with her day as if Luna had merely told her that onions sprouting from the ears was a sure sign of rain approaching.

Still, Harry bit his tongue. He would wait until at least Hermione and Ron were here. He wondered if he told Luna, should he tell Ginny? But she was with Dean, and it wouldn’t be fair to put her in that kind of a spot, to have a secret from Dean because Harry had asked…

Harry didn’t let himself finish that thought. Instead, he told himself that if Luna and Ginny were included in the small circle of people who knew the prophecy, it would be because they had gone to the Ministry with him, which meant that Pearl Lais also ought to be included, wherever she was, and at that point, Harry decided he would just share it with Ron, Hermione, and Neville. Ron and Hermione were his best friends, and Neville was slowly becoming one.

“Alright, Harry?” Neville asked.

“What?”

“You disappeared for a moment. My dad does that sometimes — everything okay?”

Harry shook his head. “Sorry. Yeah, lost in thought, I guess.”

“Wrackspurts,” said Luna, a sympathy in her voice, like Harry had said he’d sprouted a large pimple instead of wondering in his own head.

“What?” Harry said, again.

“A Wrackspurt — they’re invisible. They float in through your ears and make your brain go all fuzzy. I thought I felt one zooming around in here.”

Harry and Neville each raised an eyebrow as Luna waved her hand in front of her face and about her ears like she was trying to swat a small bird out of the air, sort of like Crookshanks or Puck might.

Finally, around midday, Hermione and Ron arrived at their carriage. Ron immediately sank into the seat across from Harry and said, “I’m starving. Wish the trolley lady would hurry up.”

Hermione gave Ron a brief glance, full of distaste, then smiled at Harry and Neville. “Did you have a good rest of the summer?”

“It was very quiet,” said Neville, with a sideways glance at Harry. Neville had missed the noisiest part of summer: Sirius and Remus’s very loud fight when Remus left, but Harry had told him about it. It had been hard not to. Sirius had been in a foul mood for nearly two weeks. It didn’t clear up until Tonks visited for dinner, and she had finally been the one to talk him out of it.

“More or less,” Harry agreed. He might feel comfortable sharing the situation about Remus and Tonks with Ron and Hermione, but not with Luna. Remus’s furry little problem had become public knowledge just two years ago, thanks to Snape, but that didn’t mean it was discussed with people outside the family. He couldn’t talk about things happening at home any more than he could talk about the prophecy. Harry wasn’t sure what to say.

Thankfully, he was spared by Ron.

“Our summer wasn’t quiet — Mum was a nightmare with Fleur around. Can’t understand why. She’s so annoyed with their wedding plans.”

“She just thinks they’ve rushed things, is all,” said Hermione.

“They’ve been dating a year — they met at the Triwizard Tournament. That’s plenty of time.”

“To marry someone?” Hermione looked scandalized.

Ron rolled his eyes. “It was nice to get out to Diagon Alley and see you guys. Oh — speaking of Malfoy, guess who’s not doing prefect duty?”

Harry sat up straight and stared at Ron. “What’s he doing?”

Ron shrugged. “Nothing. Just sitting with the Slytherins. Not like him, is it? He loves to be out there bullying first years with his shiny prefect badge.”

“Maybe he’s gotten nicer,” said Neville. “Maybe now that his dad’s in jail, he and his mum are better.”

But Neville had been in Madam Malkin’s with them. Neville knew Malfoy hadn’t changed. And Harry thought that if his father had been taken to Azkaban, he wouldn’t be feeling too kind to the people who put him there.

“What do you think he’s doing?” Harry asked.

Hermione refused to indulge the suspicion in Harry’s voice. “Slacking off,” she said. “Not everything Malfoy does is nefarious. Maybe Prefect feels like a step down from Inquisitorial Squad.”

“Maybe he’s bragging to his friends about his new friend Greyback,” Harry said. That part of the conversation they’d overheard still irked him. He’d turned that name over and over, wondering why it was familiar. Finally, he’d asked James about it a week later and James had nearly dropped the bundle of linens he’d been carrying downstairs to wash.

“Where’d you hear about him?” James had asked.

“Er — someone mentioned him when we were in Diagon Alley. I just overheard it.”

James had glanced around the hall nervously, but Harry didn’t know who he was checking for, or why Greyback was some sort of secret.

“He’s not a good person, Harry. He — he’s a werewolf, and not a safe one.”

“You mean not like Remus?”

“He’s the werewolf who bit Remus.”

Harry had needed time to process that information. Though it added color to Malfoy’s conversation, he hadn’t written about it to Ron or Hermione. He had found himself unable to put to paper the tragedy that had made Remus Lupin, especially in the middle of this particular summer, when Remus’s condition was such a central part of the family’s collective worries.

“Did you find out who Greyback is?” Hermione asked keenly.

“Works with Voldemort,” Harry said, casually as he could, and ignored Neville’s shiver. “So if we needed any more proof that Malfoy —”

Harry stopped suddenly, remember what Malfoy had been doing when he had brought up Greyback. He had rolled up the sleeves of his robes and shown Borgin something on his arm, then threatened Borgin with Greyback. Greyback, the werewolf, who had been brought into the Death Eaters’ fold as one of their many tools of blackmail, and something on Malfoy’s right arm.

“He’s a Death Eater,” Harry said. “Malfoy’s a Death Eater, and he was showing Borgin his Dark Mark.”

Harry saw the protest on Hermione’s face before her mouth even opened. “Harry, he wouldn’t —”

“His dad was a Death Eater, and he’s just replaced him! Why else would he show Borgin his arm? What else would make Borgin listen to Malfoy like that?”

Ron shook his head. “Malfoy’s sixteen, mate, same as us. What would You-Know-Who be thinking, bringing Malfoy into something like that?”

But they hadn’t fought Voldemort. Harry didn’t think Voldemort would consider Malfoy’s age a deterrent.

“If he was, wouldn’t he be going off on dark missions?” asked Neville. “But he’s here on the train, going to school, same as us.”

“Unless his mission is at Hogwarts,” said Harry.

Hermione and Ron exchanged a look that said, “He’s clearly gone mad, but how do we tell him gently?”

“It makes sense,” Harry insisted.

“I think Harry’s right,” said Luna, as absently as ever. “You-Know-Who must be after the mounds of glowing garox gold buried beneath Hogwarts. The founders hid it when they built the school.”

Hermione’s raised eyebrow told Harry that it wasn’t wise to be in the same camp as Luna Lovegood. It only deterred Harry a little bit.

“I don’t think Voldemort is after gold, but I bet Malfoy —”

The door opened, and for some reason, Harry felt disappointment when he saw the young girl in the doorway. He didn’t know who he had expected, but he’d hoped it would be someone else. Someone he knew.

The small girl, no older than twelve, certainly seemed to have expected him. “Harry P-Potter? And Neville Longbottom?” she asked.

“Yeah?” Harry tried not to be annoyed with her. It wasn’t her fault his face was plastered all over The Daily Prophet each week. She couldn’t help the flush in her cheeks.

She held out two scrolls, tied with purple ribbons that looked like velvet. Harry thought the velvet should have been a giveaway, like it was familiar in a way he should understand, but he couldn’t. He accepted one of the scrolls.

Neville, face wide with bewilderment, took the scroll from her.

Ron, impatiently, demanded, “What is it?” as Harry unfurled it. Fortunately, it didn’t take long to read.

“An invitation,” Harry said.

Harry, I would be delighted if you would join me for a bite of lunch in compartment C. Sincerely, Professor H. E. F. Slughorn

“To what?” asked Ron.

“From whom?” asked Hermione.

“Professor Slughorn,” Harry said. “I mentioned him, right?”

Hermione nodded. Ron frowned.

“What do you think he wants with us?” asked Neville.

“I guess lunch,” Harry said, though he remembered Dumbledore’s warning about collecting students. But if Neville had been invited, why not Ron and Hermione? Was it just because he was a Longbottom?

Harry grabbed his bag and, as was beginning to be a habit, checked for his Invisibility Cloak. He’d carried it with him whenever he and his father went into the garden. He’d carried it with him when they went to Diagon Alley. And still, on the Hogwarts Express, he planned to carry it with him. Dumbledore had said to keep it on him at all times, so he did. Harry wondered if he could even put it to some good use.

“Let’s see if we can spy on Malfoy as we pass his compartment,” Harry said as he and Neville left, but that plan was useless. The corridor was too crowded. It was one thing to slip down Knockturn Alley, where people slunk around the edges and avoiding bumping into anyone was fairly easy. It was another to try to navigate the packed hallway of the Hogwarts Express.

As he and Neville headed for compartment C, Harry found himself wishing he could use his Invisibility Cloak for a second reason: to avoid everyone’s stares.

It wasn’t just girls whispering and giggling, and it wasn’t just first and second years gaping. The latter, Harry was fairly used to. Colin and Dennis Creevey had made sure Harry was familiar with that. This year, everyone stared. The first and second years, the third and fourth years, even the seventh years and the sixth years, who had known Harry all this time, stared. Harry didn’t need to know what they were thinking. The question was on each of their faces: “Is he the Chosen One to defeat Voldemort?”

Harry was grateful when they finally arrived at compartment Compartment C. At least Slughorn’s fawning would be different than everyone’s gaping stares. Unfortunately, the gaping stares weren’t over.

“Harry, m’boy!” Slughorn said as Harry opened the door. The large man stood, nearly filling the corridor, and shook Harry��s hand.

Behind him were several other students, and each one’s eyes widened in surprise as Harry stepped into the compartment — all except one.

Ginny Weasley was squashed into the corner, and she smiled at Harry and Neville.

As Harry shook Slughorn’s hand and looked around the compartment, he saw a couple other familiar faces: Blaise Zabini from Slytherin, who was in Harry’s year, though Harry was not sure they had ever exchanged a word, and Cormac McLaggen, a seventh-year Gryffindor who Harry knew only by reputation.

The third was a seventh-year Harry had never met, who Slughorn introduced as “Marcus Belby, I don’t know if you’ve ever — no? — well, at least this charming lady tells me she knows you,” and he gestured to Ginny.

Harry and Neville took the only two seats available and Slughorn settled into his own seat, piled with additional velvet cushions. Those, coupled with his velvet robes, made him look like he was the same sofa he had transformed himself into the night Harry had met him.

“Well, now, this is most pleasant,” Slughorn said as he put a napkin over his lap. “A chance to get to know you all better. Here, take a napkin. I’ve packed my own lunch; the trolley, as I remember it, is heavy on the licorice wands, and a poor old man’s digestive system isn’t quite up to such things…. Pheasant, Belby?”

Slughorn chatted with each of them in turn, and Harry quickly discovered how Slughorn went about “collecting” his students. Slughorn pressed Belby about a famous uncle who had invented the Wolfsbane Potion, and when Belby admitted he hardly spoke to his uncle, Slughorn moved onto McLaggen. McLaggen, whose uncle was well-known in Ministry circles that included the new Minister for Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour, and who McLaggen was very close with, was doted on by Slughorn for the rest of the lunch. Zabini had been brought in because he had a wealthy mother who moved through pureblood society and had been widowed more times than anyone ought to be. Neville was interrogated about his parents’ work with the Ministry and their connections with Scrimgeour.

The more Slughorn interrogated each student, the more Harry wondered why Ginny was here. Harry loved the Weasleys, but they didn’t have any Ministry connections or claims to the sort of greatness that Slughorn admired.

“And now,” Slughorn’s voice trilled with excitement, and his thick mustache quivered with his breath, “Harry Potter! Where to begin? I feel I barely scratched the surface when we met over the summer! ‘The Chosen One,’ they’re calling you now!”

Harry smiled awkwardly and recalled his conversation with Dumbledore. Dumbledore had warned him that Slughorn would try to collect him, to influence him. Dumbledore had not given him any advice on how to avoid Slughorn.

“Of course,” Slughorn continued, “there have been rumors for years. . . . I remember when — well — after that terrible night — Lily — James — and you survived — and the word was that you must have powers beyond the ordinary —”

Zabini cleared his throat, poorly masking a derisive snort.

“Yeah, Zabini,” Ginny snapped suddenly, though she’d been quiet for the entire lunch, “because you’re so talented — at posing.”

“Oh dear!” Slughorn laughed as if Ginny had only been poking fun. Harry understood very quickly what James and Sirius had meant when they’d said Slughorn was very easy to have fun with.

“You want to be careful, Blaise!” Slughorn continued. “I saw this young lady perform the most marvelous Bat-Bogey Hex as I was passing her carriage! I wouldn’t cross her!”

Harry smiled at Ginny, hoping she understood he was both grateful and impressed.

“Anyway,” Slughorn turned back to Harry, “such rumors this summer. Of course, one doesn’t know what to believe, the Prophet has been known to print inaccuracies, make mistakes — but there seems little doubt, given the number of witnesses, that there was quite a disturbance at the Ministry and that you were there in the thick of it all!”

Harry could not see any sense in denying that he had been there. It was all over the Prophet, so he merely shrugged.

Slughorn’s smile was wider than his mustache. “So modest, so modest, no wonder Dumbledore is so fond — you were there, then? But the rest of the stories — so sensational, of course, one doesn’t know quite what to believe — this fabled prophecy, for instance —”

“We never heard a prophecy,” Neville interrupted.

“That’s right,” Ginny said. “Neville and I were both there too, and all this ‘Chosen One’ rubbish is just the Prophet making things up as usual.”

“You were both there too, were you?” Slughorn looked between Ginny and Neville, waiting for them to share more details, but they did not. Harry was more grateful than ever for his friends, and reconsidered his plan to keep the prophecy from Ginny.

Slughorn’s excitement faltered when neither Ginny nor Neville volunteered more information about the fight at the Ministry. “Yes, well,” he dabbed the pheasant grease out of his mustache with his napkin, “it is true that the Prophet often exaggerates, of course. I remember dear Gwenog telling me — Gwenog Jones, I mean, of course, Captain of the Holyhead Harpies —”

Slughorn continued sharing stories of his past students, all who went on to fame or positions of power. They’d been members of what Slughorn called, “The Slug Club.”

Harry had not known there was someone who could talk more than Hermione, and at least when Hermione talked it was about something that wasn’t herself. Slughorn occasionally asked the students questions, but none of it was information Harry wanted to volunteer. Giving up information about himself made Harry feel like he was handing over strings of web to a spider, and giving Slughorn pieces to tug on. He hated every minute of it, and understood another reason his parents had been so determined to keep the prophecy secret.

Harry searched desperately for some polite way to extricate himself from the extended lunch, but the opportunity never seemed to arise. It wasn’t until the sunlight streamed red into the cabin, hardly a sliver on the horizon, that Slughorn seemed to realize the late hour.

“Good gracious, it’s getting dark already! I didn’t notice that they’d lit the lamps! You’d better go and change into your robes, all of you. McLaggen, you must drop by and borrow that book on nogtails. Harry, Blaise — any time you’re passing. Same goes for you, miss,” he smiled widely at Ginny. “Well, off you go, off you go!”

Zabini pushed past Harry, Ginny, and Neville to be the first down the corridor. Ginny, Neville and Harry weren’t far behind him. McLaggen and Belby seemed content to linger, which told Harry all he needed to know about the two of them.

“I’m glad that’s over,” Neville mumbled as they followed after Zabini. “Strange man, isn’t he?”

“Yeah, he is a bit.” Harry felt as distant as Luna as he watched Zabini stalk down the hall. A part of a plan was forming in his mind, just the pieces of one. “How come you ended up in there, Ginny?”

“He saw me hex Zacharias Smith,” she said. “You remember that idiot from Hufflepuff who was in the D.A.? He kept on and on asking about what happened at the Ministry and in the end he annoyed me so much I hexed him — when Slughorn came in I thought I was going to get detention, but he just thought it was a really good hex and invited me to lunch! Mad, eh?”

“Better reason for inviting someone than because their mother’s famous,” Harry said, though he wondered how much of his parents’ fame influenced his invitation, “or because their uncle —” Harry stopped as the half-formed planned reached its conclusion. He knew what he had to do.

“I’ll see you two later.” Harry yanked his Invisibility Cloak out of his bag and threw it over his head.

“But what’re you — ?” Neville asked.

“Later!” Harry hissed, and hurried after Zabini. The train rattling down the tracks masked Harry’s footsteps, and most students had found compartments to change into their robes before arriving at Hogwarts. Harry’s approach was unimpeded, but there was no way he could slip into the compartment behind Zabini so easily.

Zabini slid the door open and closed it as soon as he had stepped through, slamming it into Harry’s foot. Harry bit down a yelp as Zabini smashed the door into his foot again.

“What’s wrong with this thing?” Zabini asked irritably.

Harry shoved the door open. The force of it threw Zabini into Goyle’s lap. As Zabini went tumbling, Harry slipped into the compartment, stepped onto an empty seat, and pulled himself up onto the luggage rack. Harry worried that his trainers may have slipped out from the cloak when he slid up, but Goyle and Zabini made such a commotion he thought he was safe. Still, he didn’t like the way Malfoy’s eyes stared up at the luggage rack from his half-lying half-sitting position. Even as Goyle slammed the door shut, Zabini slunk into his own seat, and Malfoy settled his head back onto Pansy Parkinson’s lap, Malfoy’s eyes lingered on the exact spot Harry was hiding.

Harry pulled the edges of the cloak tighter, though he was sure he was completely hidden.

Without taking his eyes off of Harry’s hiding spot, Malfoy asked, “So, Zabini,” said Malfoy, “what did Slughorn want?”

“Just trying to make up to well-connected people.” Zabini, too, did not look at Malfoy as he answered. Instead he was still glaring at Goyle, as if the door fiasco was Goyle’s fault. “Not that he managed to find many.”

Malfoy frowned up at the ceiling. “Who else had he invited?”

“McLaggen from Gryffindor,” said Zabini.

Malfoy’s frown turned to a slightly impressed sneer. “Oh yeah, his uncle’s big in the Ministry,”

“— someone else called Belby, from Ravenclaw —”

Pansy paused her reverent stroking of Malfoy’s hair. “Not him, he’s a prat!”

“— and Longbottom, Potter, and that Weasley girl,” finished Zabini.

Malfoy sat up and half-snarled. “He invited Longbottom?”

“Well, I assume so, as Longbottom was there.” Zabini turned to look out the window, making his disinterest in Neville plain.

“What’s Longbottom got to interest Slughorn?”

Zabini shrugged. “His parents are famous Aurors.”

“Potter, precious Potter, obviously he wanted a look at ‘the Chosen One,’” Malfoy growled, “but that Weasley girl! What’s so special about her?”

“A lot of boys like her,” Pansy said. Her eyes were on Malfoy, and her hand still hovered in the air, waiting for him to return to her lap. “Even you think she’s good-looking, don’t you, Blaise, and we all know how hard you are to please!”

“I wouldn’t touch a filthy little blood traitor like her whatever she looked like,” Zabini snapped.

Pansy smiled and Malfoy lowered himself back into her lap. She resumed running her fingers through his hair, as if he were a cat on her lap.

“Well, I pity Slughorn’s taste,” Malfoy said. “Maybe he’s going a bit senile. Shame, my father always said he was a good wizard in his day. My father used to be a bit of a favorite of his. Slughorn probably hasn’t heard I’m on the train, or —”

“I wouldn’t bank on an invitation,” said Zabini. “He asked me about Nott’s father when I first arrived. They used to be old friends, apparently, but when he heard he’d been caught at the Ministry he didn’t look happy, and Nott didn’t get an invitation, did he? I don’t think Slughorn’s interested in Death Eaters.”

Malfoy’s normally pale face was flushed with anger, but he forced a laugh out anyway. “Well, who cares what he’s interested in? What is he, when you come down to it? Just some stupid teacher.” As if to emphasize how little he cared, Malfoy yawned. “I mean, I might not even be at Hogwarts next year, what’s it matter to me if some fat old has-been likes me or not?”

Pansy’s hand dropped from Malfoy’s hair to her seat. She frowned down at him and snapped, “What do you mean, you might not be at Hogwarts next year?”

“Well, you never know,” Malfoy said in his usual drawl. “I might have — er — moved on to bigger and better things.”

Harry’s heart raced. He resisted the urge to shift closer; he could see and hear everything just fine, but he worried he would miss what Malfoy was truly up to. He held his breath.

Crabbe and Goyle stared at Malfoy as if they could not imagine anything bigger and better than harassing first years at Hogwarts. Zabini even quirked an eyebrow at Malfoy.

Pansy’s voice was hardly a whisper as she said, “Do you mean… Him?”

Malfoy did not answer her. “Mother wants me to complete my education, but personally, I don’t see it as that important these days. I mean, think about it, when the Dark Lord takes over, is he going to care about how many O.W.L.s or N.E.W.T.s anyone’s got? Of course he isn’t. It’ll be all about the kind of service he received, the level of devotion he was shown.”

Harry remembered the loyalty Bellatrix had shown to Voldemort even as she’d been sentenced to life in Azkaban. She was the only one he saved. She was also Draco’s aunt, and maybe Draco had learned a thing or two from her.

“And you think you’ll be able to do something for him?” Zabini said with a snort. “Sixteen years old and not even fully qualified yet?”

Malfoy scowled back. “I’ve just said, haven’t I? Maybe he doesn’t care if I’m qualified. Maybe the job he wants me to do isn’t something that you need to be qualified for.”

Crabbe and Goyle were still gaping. Whatever Malfoy was talking about was news to them. That surprised Harry. He’d always imagined that, stupid as they were, Malfoy still confided in them. He remembered the Christmas Eve years ago when he and Ron had impersonated Crabbe and Goyle and snuck into the Slytherin common room. Malfoy had spoken openly and freely with them. This must have been very secretive indeed for Malfoy to brag so vaguely to friends he traditionally confided in.

Pansy brushed a wisp of hair from Malfoy’s forehead and stared at him with wonder. Zabini seemed to be the only one left who thought Malfoy was spouting fantasies.

“I can see Hogwarts,” Malfoy said, and sat up, though he looked loathe to take the attention off of himself. “We’d better get our robes on.”

Harry glanced out the window and indeed, he saw that the lights of Hogwarts castle glistened on the horizon, despite the foggy evening. He looked back at Malfoy and failed to notice Goyle reach up for his trunk. The heavy baggage hit Harry on the head as Goyle yanked it down and Harry struggled to stifle a yelp. Malfoy’s eyes darted keenly to the empty space and Harry held his breath once more.

He was not afraid of Malfoy in the least — Harry had faced thirteen Death Eaters just months ago. He’d watched them torture Neville and Cedric, and that wasn’t the first time he’d watched Cedric be tortured. Malfoy was nothing compared to Voldemort. Still, he didn’t relish being discovered spying by a band of Slytherins.

Carefully, though his head still throbbed from the blow, Harry drew his wand from his jeans.

Malfoy did not stare at the space long. He dressed in his robes like the others. The train had begun to slow, but Harry could not leave until the compartment was empty. He wished fervently that Malfoy and his friends would head to the corridors, wait at the doors to be the first ones off the train. But sixth years were hardly so eager. The corridors packed with second, third, and a few fourth years as the shoved each other to be the first onto the platform, the first to the carriages, as if they could reach the feast faster. The sixth and seventh years knew better than to fight the crowds.

The train halted as the Slytherins finished putting on what looked like winter cloaks. Harry squinted out the window, but from his vantage point he couldn’t tell how cold the platform looked. Finally, Goyle opened the door and shoved his way into the crowded corridor. Crabbe was not far behind him. Zabini and Pansy waited at the door a moment until the crowd had thinned, then Zabini left. Pansy turned back and held her hand out to Draco.

“You go on,” Malfoy said. “I just want to check something.”

Harry could not hold his breath any more than he already was. His heart, he found, could race a little faster.

Malfoy drew the blinds and turned to his trunk. Harry struggled to see what Malfoy was digging out of his trunk — could it be the object that needed mending?

Malfoy turned suddenly and said, “Petrificus Totalus!” and pointed his wand at Harry.

Harry fell to the ground on top of his cloak. His body was frozen in the position he’d been crouched in and panic surged through Harry as he realized he was completely helpless, unable to move, to even twitch his fingers.

Malfoy kicked Harry’s wand from his hand. “I thought so,” he said. The smile on his face was thin and cold. “I heard Goyle’s trunk hit you. And I thought I saw something white flash through the air after Zabini came back. You didn’t hear anything I care about, Potter, but while I’ve got you here….”

Malfoy raised his foot and brought it down on Harry’s face.

It was a strange sensation, to feel pain, to feel blood dripping from his nose, and to be unable to react. Harry could not shout, he could not flinch, he could not hold the wound and stanch the bleeding. He wondered if this was how Cedric had felt as Pyrites had cut him open while he was under the Silencing Charm.

“That’s from my father,” Malfoy said. “Now, let’s see.” Malfoy yanked the cloak out from beneath Harry and let it fall on top of him. “I don’t reckon they’ll find you until the train’s back in London. See you around, Potter. Or not.”

Malfoy made sure to get one more stomp on Harry’s hand as he left the compartment.

#harry potter #draco malfoy #Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince #hbp #hp everyone lives

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tuxxer · 6 years ago

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My thoughts on S5 of the magicians

Thoughts on Season five of the Magicians

So, as we finished Season four of The Magicians, we turn our thoughts on what is to come for the surviving members of the troop. Alas Quentin Coldwater joins the ranks of casualties during the war on magic. The Show treats death not as a finality, but merely as a plot device to advance a story line as needed. This time however the actor who plays Q, appears to have decided that there was no more to tell in his story and to leave the show on a personal high note.

I have decided that the show needs a new direction and felt that it was time to bring you the reader along for the discussion. Season five for all intents and purposes is a clean slate in terms of story. Normally the previous season would set up the story for the following season at some point during the episode run. From what I could tell, almost every outstanding story arc has been resolved and the only new story arc is the deposition of high king fen and the current whereabouts of Josh Hoberman.

The Twins have been cast into the seam, the director of the library has been killed in his attempts to achieve godhood, the fascist library state has fallen and hedge witches have gained a level of respectability in the eyes of classically trained Magicians. Only miscellaneous plot points remain. Fillory has been the subject of a hostile take over by the aptly named Dark Magician, Irene McAllister is still on the loose, the whereabouts of Santa, Panty sniffing pervert, Mayakovski, the chick from firefly I lost track of, along with Marina and Poppy.

Elliot Waugh

Farm boy from Iowa. Has excellent leadership and organizational abilities and very confident in his magical abilities, the kind of person that you would follow to hell and back for a martini. That is if you’re an insecure person that has issues and a serious need to be accepted into a cool kid clique for personal validation. Probably a nice empathic guy if he knows you on a personal level, but only if he is the dominant.

Has the ability to guide with out ordering and punishes by withdrawing friendship and patronage. Maintains a clique of disciples that adhere to his mindset, lives a lavish and flamboyant lifestyle and can level a scathing barrage of wit and sarcasm. Has intimacy issues arising from childhood and maintained a co-dependency with Margo.

Of course, that is Season one Elliot. What I expect to see in the up coming season is a broken version of that Elliot with flashes of greatness followed by wallowing in self pity. This is of course up to the producers and they may have ideas on their note pads and emails about the direction they want to go.

Elliot needs to go the way of Q in the books and become a teacher at Brakebills teaching what ever flavor of magic he has. He is ageing out of his past lifestyle and is in danger of being seen as an old person rather than the young edgy type he was. I am not someone that has the medical documentation to be able to diagnose Elliot, but I have known people like him. Living life like you don’t expect to make it past your thirtieth birthday and then waking up and realizing your no longer young and the phone no longer rings.

Margo Hanson

Young, Beautiful, and the patron saint of mean girls everywhere. She comes to us from the west coast and a scion of a rich family. Wearing an aggressive wardrobe that promotes her confidence in that when she is in a room, you will know. An aggressive spitfire who hides a secret identity, with unusual talents and achievements. Like Elliot, she is highly competent with great organizational skills, and unlike Elliot has no problem with pointing out your flaws.

Her command of invective is truly inspirational, her common sense shining when pulling out the pistol shocking the naïve Q and his prime directive in the nietherlands. Forming the second part of the co-dependency with Elliot, she enabled his lifestyle and validated him when perhaps she should have been making steps to evolve without the following seasons.

For season five I expect that she will complete the transition that she has started in season 4, fully and without apology. Congruent to that, I expect that at some point in the season she is going to throw down with Elliot and tell him in her usual fashion to grow a set of tits and man up. As Janet, she has shown that she can run a major company and as Margo, that she can rule a kingdom.

Mere time loops are not going to be a problem, this has come up before with Q and Julia arriving in Fillory sometime in WW2 England. We can expect that no matter the problem, this time Margo will be the one solving it, and probably much to Elliot’s discomfort.

Kady Diaz

Kady is the anti-Margo, much the same ingredients but nature won out over nurture with her. The daughter of a hedge witch, admitted into Brakebills and expelled for stealing items for Marina. Coming to terms with this, she forms an unlikely partnership with Julia and ends up in a very frightening situation with Reynard the Trickster.

Sharp and attractive and tends to be one of the more physical magicians in the group. Jock rather than cheerleader. When she is brave, she is fearless but when she is venerable, she goes introverted and runs. For Jade to shine she needs to be part of a team and up till now she has had nobody depending on her.

I expect in Season five, Kady is going to have problems integrating the hedge witches and interfacing with whom ever is running the library. Enough has been done to the hedges that I could be forgiven for thinking not all of those hedges are going to be live and let live.

Obviously, what I would like to see for her, is to return to the world of law enforcement and perhaps integrate that with the magical world. Much like the Auror’s do in the Harry Potter world. Bonus points if she takes up with the production of Dragon Porn.

Julia Wicker

What can we say about Julia? Gorgeous, educated and fashion confident. She is no Margo that uses clothing to announce her presence. Dealing with her, your dealing with a professional that is not immune to the fact that she is attractive and can’t have her head turned by mere flattery.

She has been in a race since Season one with Margo to see who transforms into the person that they are meant to. Combining talent and compassion and raw determination, she has gone from being a hedge witch, suffering huge personal losses and surviving, to ascension and becoming a goddess.

Losing Q will be a huge blow for her, the last surviving person that she knew from her old life and perhaps the man she would have eventually married. With her magical abilities now returned, she faces an uncertain future.

Like Elliot, the best place for Julia to be is going to be Brakebills as a teacher of some sort. Possibly even becoming the dean and taking Fogg’s place at the school. That mentorship day in Season one strikes me as a good landing spot for her.

Alice Quinn

Hyper-smart , studious with serious attention to detail. Pretty, but very insecure and fashion negative. With librarian looks and a body that’s a teenager’s wet dream, Alice tends to use clothing that either lets her ugly up and be invisible or clothing that draws attention to her natural charms while forgetting that this lady has you looking where she wants you to look.

For her magic has been real, and not just a tool that compliments the rest of a person’s abilities. If Magic does not present a solution, she attempts to find another way to solve a problem magically. Her worldview has been shaped by absentee parenting, a brother whose death led her on a quest to find him, only to find Q instead.

A loner with no use for team work, she has trouble integrating with other team members on a long-term basis, and as such she has had the most trouble finding a spot on the team and keeping it. Her collaboration with the library in the past season, and the casualties suffered by the hedges does not bode well for her, when it comes time to count the cost after the dead have been mourned.

For Season five, I expect her to go to pieces and crash and burn. Q was her rock in the same way that Charlie was. Magic will be her first go to, for returning Q to the mortal world. Short of being able to do that, she is going to have to make her way in the library as the only path open to her. Fun thought for bonus points, I expect her to form an unlikely pairing with Elliot

Penny

Penny has the least amount of thought allocated to one of the prime characters. Switched out from Penny40 to Penny23, he seems to be really kept around when you need a magical uber. Both variations on the character have strong loyalty vibes to those that deserve them, and has a strong moral compass.

Ever the outsider, he finally finds a home and friends when teamed up with the crew and I expect that will continue in Season five. If anything, I expect that he will suffer from severe sympathy fatigue and team up in some capacity with the library, or hopefully Kady’s hypothetical magical police.

Again, I should mention that I should say a few words about him, just I am drawing a blank as to where he goes from here.

Josh Hoberman

Josh is one of the older members of the team, a class ahead of Margo and Elliot and a contemporary of Poppy. Seemingly nice guy whose magical talent should be hospitality magic, if that’s even a thing, what his actual discipline is, I confess I never paid attention. It might be plant magic cause he seemed to have gotten the good drugs.

Called up from the bench a couple of years ago, he has been an advisor to the Fillory side of the crew and gotten steady promotions up till now. Due to an ill-advised Dalliance back in the day, Josh has a little problem with full moons. Leading to a surprising short-term solution and a steady squeeze that’s going to be complicated in season five.

But wait, there is potentially more. In the process of saving Elliot from the monster, Josh traveled back to Fillory to coordinate with the Fillorian magicians, and at some point, after Fillory was subject to a hostile take over from some individual. Leaving Margo and Elliot to arrive in Fillory 300 years in the future to find that Josh and Fen are missing.

The Fuck

Season five, I am going to use the books to align Josh’s future. Assuming Mayakovski is the invader, kicking Josh and Fen back to Earth seems reasonable and I am predicting Josh takes up residence in an Italian Palazzo with Fen. With no real idea how they got three hundred years into the future, Josh may have concluded that the dynamic duo have shuffled off their mortal coils and has at some point made sexy time with Fen, expect the fun to begin when Margo sends a what the fuck Bunny to express her dissatisfaction on Josh being AWOL.

What should come next.

This is the reason we need new blood, at best the current cast is only good for one more season before monster of the season starts to get boring, if the show is not canceled by then anyways. I had this thought in my head when I was watching mean girls. At the end of the movie, there is this brief shot of a couple of girls walking in the distance, clearly, they are the next generation mean girls.

Anchor the show around Brakebills, it has played a bit part in each successive season but should be the main part of the next generation. Wrap up lose ends for half of season five and then start introducing the new Elliot, Julia, Kady etc. Start up the mentoring, teaching positions with new and arrogant magicians that are gonna conquer the world, as the past crew explain why the class lost half of their people when magic went away.

#themagicians

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amarauder · 6 years ago

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chapter twenty-two ❥ original

it’s a hate-love thing original version.

james potter x reader.

"I got fifteen O.W.L.s!" gushed y/n, as she hugged Alice at King's Cross. "Can you believe it? FIFTEEN!"

"y/n, calm down," laughed Alice. "It was obvious that you'd get the highest number of O.W.L.s. Be happy that you don't have to take the N.E.W.T.s this year." She made a face.

"And you made Head Girl! That's wonderful!"

"Yeah, but guess who's Head Boy?"

"Who?"

"Longbottom! As if he hasn't already caused me enough pain, the git."

"Are you still going out with Sturges?" asked y/n nervously.

"Well, duh. I really like him. I mean, I know I'll never be able to love him like Frank, but he's all right."

"So will you say 'yes', if you asks you to marry him?"

Alice furrowed her brow and thought for a moment. "Maybe."

"Oy, n/n!" cried Arabella, waving her arms wildly at her friend. "Alice! C'mon, the train's leaving in five minutes!"

The three girls hurriedly went through the barrier between Platforms Nine and Ten, and hopped onto the scarlet train just in time. They found Jennifer and Violet already in a compartment, and joined them.

"Fifteen O.W.L.s, y/n?" cried Jennifer excitedly. "Oh Merlin, that's fantastic! I got twelve."

"That's great. What about you, Vi?"

"Eleven. I didn't get an O.W.L. for Transfiguration, Divination, or Potions, though."

"We get to choose our classes this year," continued y/n, her e/c eyes sparkling with excitement. "I'm going to choose Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charms, and Potions. I am so glad that I can ditch Divination."

"I'm not taking Potions or Transfiguration," said Violet dismally. "But I got high grades in Care of Magical Creatures, and that's perfect for working in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures."

"That's what Amos is going to do, too," said Arabella disgustedly.

Violet turned white. "Well—er—that doesn't mean I like him, you know," she responded quickly.

"Of course you don't. Who would?"

"You did," she pointed out.

Arabella scowled. "Yes, well, I did. I don't anymore, now, do I?"

"Of course not. You love Sirius. And now you can't say that you only like him; he said himself that he loved you."

A warm flush rose to her cheeks. "Yes, I love Sirius. Jen loves Remus. Y/n loves James. It's all good, right?"

Y/n choked on the sandwich that she had brought from home. "I love Potter? As if!"

Jennifer rolled her eyes. "Not this again. Anyway, how many O.W.L.s did you get, Bella?"

"Twelve, like you. I'm going to work at the Department of Magical Games and Sports. What about you?"

"Department of Mysteries. I'd love to be an Unspeakable, you know. It sounds fascinating, and you get to learn all sorts of, well, mysteries that are concealed to normal witches and wizards."

"That's very dangerous," warned Alice. "Many an Unspeakable are being killed by Voldemort and his Death Eaters. I hear that the Dementors from Azkaban are also his followers."

"You're going to be an Auror," Jennifer pointed out. "That's even more dangerous. You're going face-to-face with Voldemort himself, or along those lines, at least."

"Yes, but the best thing about being an Auror," interrupted y/n, "is that you get the pleasure of knowing that you can save many lives by risking your own. It takes a lot of endurance through the training, but it's worth it."

"It's a great sacrifice," said Violet softly. "Are you sure you want to become one, Y/n?"

"Of course, Vi. It's been my dream. Too bad I have to go through training with Potter."

Arabella laughed. "Go through training with him? You'll be married to him by the end!"

Y/n shot a look at her best friend. "Will not."

"'Course you will. You're destined for each other, and you know it."

"I know it, but I'll do anything to prevent it from happening."

"What about poor Harry then, huh? Will he never live?"

"He may as well have a different Mum, if I'm concerned," she snapped back.

Alice looked taken aback. "Oh, so you want James to marry someone like Deanna?"

"Her? I don't give a damn—"

"Ha!" cried Jennifer triumphantly. "And you call us with bad language!"

Y/n glared at her. "Oh, shut up, Jen."

"I won't!"

"Jen..."

"Oh, shut it, both of you," said Arabella wearily.

"May we join you beautiful ladies?" said a familiar voice from behind them.

The five girls turned around and saw the Marauders and Frank standing right outside of their compartment.

"Sirius!" Arabella flung herself into her boyfriend's arms, and crushed his body onto hers painfully.

"Bellsies—can't breathe—"

"Oh, right." She let go looking flustered and ignored the snickers that followed. "Hi, Frank." She waved to the gangly-looking Head Boy behind Peter.

"Arabella," acknowledged Frank with a nod of his head. "Y/n, Jennifer, Violet...Alice." His eyes brightened.

"Well, I'd better get to the prefect carriage," said Alice quickly, standing up and letting her loose golden curls fall onto her shoulders. Her blue eyes scrutinized Frank carefully. "You'd better go, too, Longbottom; you're the Head Boy."

"Right." He nodded and followed her out of the compartment, waving after the eight sixth-years.

"Poor guy," sighed James, shaking his head slightly. "His heart's breaking every moment of this."

"Didn't know you cared, Potter," said Y/n coldly.

James turned his hazel eyes onto Y/n's e/c ones with a fixed look that made her shiver. "I'm not as cold-hearted as you think, L/n. I have compassion, and I have care. Frank has been my neighbor and good mentor and friend for nearly my whole life. I care about how he feels; and right now, he's feeling terrible and guilty all at once."

The girls stared at him in awe, while the other three Marauders exchanged approving looks with each other and simply beamed at James, who was still staring at Y/n intently.

"Stop staring, Potter," she ordered, after a while.

"Why?"

"Why are you staring at me?"

"Because you're beautiful." James smiled sadly. "Can we share this compartment with you?"

"There are others. Why don't you share one with your fans? They'll be more than willing to make room."

He shook his head again. "I don't care about those girls; they're idiots with empty heads, all of them. Besides, we let you share our compartment last year on the train ride back home, remember?"

Y/n did indeed remember, and she silently cursed James for remembering as well. However, it wasn't only his sharp memory that she was in a quandary about; it was his attitude itself. He no longer had that egotistical and condescending personality, which usually made people around him feel more inferior. No, he had a brisk and genial air about him now. He walked confidently, yes, but didn't have that cold stare when passing by people who dressed shabbily; in fact, he had something in his eyes whenever he passed the less fortunate ones—pity. Y/n found it exceptionally hard to adapt to this immediate change.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked softly.

"Doing what?" said James, looking thoroughly confused. "I didn't hex Snape or anyone coming here, if that's what you mean."

"No, no." She shook her head firmly. "Why aren't you acting all snooty and patronizing?"

James blinked. He knew that he had this question coming. But what really puzzled him was the realization that he had acted all bratty throughout his last five years at Hogwarts. And that people expected it of him as well. A guilty feeling spread through him as he saw Y/n, the love of his life, thinking how he had suddenly turned nice. But hadn't he always been nice? The Marauders liked him—and many of the girls at Hogwarts had crushes on him. But he realized that the latter only liked him because of his looks. He sighed dismally.

"What's wrong?" Y/n pushed.

"I just...never knew that I've acted like such a prat for the last five years. I mean, you've told me that I've been a prat for hundreds of times, but those comments just bounced off me. And now I guess I'm more sensitive."

She snorted. "You, sensitive? I highly doubt it." But Y/n regretted saying it when she saw the apparent hurt in James' eyes.

"Well," said Sirius, breaking up the "moment", "can we share this compartment with you or what?"

"Yes," said Y/n, her eyes still glued to James' sad eyes.

"Thank you. My legs were about to fall off."

Arabella punched his arm. "Don't be so tactless," she hissed. "Can't you see that Y/n and James are having a moment? It hasn't happened since first year!"

Sirius rolled his eyes. "They were snapping at each other again. Some moment."

Remus gave Arabella a "don't even bother" look, inclining his head toward Sirius.

"I don't like you," said y/n flatly.

"I know you don't," replied James airily. "Why should you? I've been an arrogant and bullying prat for the last five years. I'm surprised that Remus and Peter can still handle Sirius and I." He winked at his best friend.

She narrowed her eyes. For a minute there, she had thought that James had changed. But he had that same egotistical aura.

"You haven't changed a bit," she spat.

He merely shrugged and smiled again. "You can't expect me to be studious and staid all the time, do you? We Marauders need to have fun in life...and I intend to have it while my life lasts. After all, I only have five years left of my life."

"As do I," said y/n in a hard voice. "But I prefer spending my life on grades."

He stared at her in disbelief. "That's boring!"

"Oh? And I suppose you find it great entertainment to be torturing Snivel—Snape."

James grinned roguishly. "Nah, torturing Snape doesn't mean much to me now. Why bother the git? He'd be wasting my time anyway."

"Since when have you been so philosophical?"

"Will you guys shut up?" growled Sirius, rubbing his forehead. "I never knew you were so boring, Prongs. We should be talking about those hot girls from Hufflepuff."

James rolled his eyes. "First of all, Padfoot, you have a girlfriend. Second of all, there are girls here, and I'm sure they wouldn't take too kindly, hearing us talk about girls. Third of all, I've no interest in those girls that you call 'hot'. You know my heart belongs to one beautiful Gryffindor, and her only."

Remus, though keeping a calm composure on the outside, was grinning like mad on the inside. James was doing a wonderful job not being so arrogant, that the former actually wondered if James had really changed, instead of just keeping an affected personality to gain y/n's love.

"Has my best friend gone mad?" whispered Sirius, poking Remus.

"He's changed," said Remus softly, "for the better. His love for y/n made him more humble."

"But—but—" spluttered Sirius. "Prongs isn't supposed to be humble! The Potters are one of the most prominent and wealthiest pureblood families in the Wizarding world. He has everything he wants. Why is he humble?"

"Because y/n's unrequited feelings for him is making him realize that even the wealthiest people cannot get what they want all the time. He wants y/n to love him, but y/n's playing hard-to-get. That's what's making him be—well—like a normal guy, instead of stuck-up like you, Padfoot."

Sirius scowled. "Hey! I'm not stuck-up!"

Jennifer snorted. "Yeah, right."

"I'm not! And you belong to Remus."

She raised a blond eyebrow. "Is that so? I'm a piece of property, like a wand? That's nice to hear."

Remus couldn't restrain himself any longer; he burst out laughing before all eight of them.

Peter looked positively alarmed. "Am I missing something?"

"Moony's gone mad," said James in wonder.

"I have not!" exclaimed Remus, still chuckling.

"Then why are you laughing?" asked Violet skeptically.

"Can't a wizard laugh once in a while?"

"If he has a reason, yes," said Jennifer coolly.

Remus promptly shut up. "I'm laughing because of you, Jen."

Her eyes widened. "Oh, yeah? So you're laughing because I'm hurting. Thanks, Remus."

"No, no! It's not like that—"

"Than what is it like?"

"I love you," he said quietly, that they could barely hear.

The Marauders' jaws dropped open, while the girls' eyes shined with tears.

"Wait to go, Moony," muttered Sirius. "Announcing your undying love in broad daylight. Such a romantic."

James worked very hard at keeping a straight face after that comment.

"You don't," said Jennifer, her blue eyes filled with tears.

Remus looked highly alarmed. "W-What? Of course I do! How can you say that, Jenny?"

She flinched at his pet name for her. "Don't call me that," she said in a steely tone. "Why did you break up with me? So you can go for another prettier and smarter girl in Ravenclaw."

"How can you even imply—"

"How can I?" she nearly screamed. "How can I? You broke my heart, Remus, with your stupid letter. I'm sorry that I sent you a Howler; I really am. But is a stupid envelope really worth a break-up?"

Remus hung his head in shame. "I'm sorry, Jenny. I just got carried away, I guess. But I guess we're a perfect couple now, since we've had a fight of our own." He smiled slightly.

Jennifer returned the smile and went over to hug her ex-boyfriend (or, rather, boyfriend). There was a chorus of "Aww's" and sniffles between the other six friends who watched the scene with great interest.

"Moony's lucky," said James to himself. "He has the girl of his dreams. So does Sirius. Only I don't."

"Who is the 'girl of your dreams', Potter?" asked Y/n curiously.

"I don't think you'd care if you knew," he replied. "You'd laugh."

"No, really."

"I won't tell. It's a secret between us Marauders and Frank, though your friends could probably guess within a nanosecond."

Y/n leaned over to Violet and whispered, "Who does Potter like?"

Violet looked at her with interest. "Oh, you mean love?"

She rolled her eyes. "Potter can't love."

"Yes, he can."

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"Who is it?" demanded Y/n impatiently.

Violet gave a toothy smile. "You."

"Excuse me?"

"James loves you, Y/n. Has ever since our fifth year, when you told him to stop hexing Snape in the corridor, and when you accidentally told him that you 'liked' him."

Y/n's mouth dropped open in surprise, as her e/c eyes widened. Whatever Violet was about to say, she was definitely not expecting this.

Potter likes me, she thought dully. Out of all the girls he could've fallen in love with, he chose me. Bookworm Y/n L/n, who studies too much for her own good. He just had to choose the girl who hated him.

"Y/n?" Violet peered at her. "Hello?"

"Wha—What?" Y/n jerked out of her daze, startled. "Where's the Snitch?"

"Excuse me?" She laughed. "Were you thinking of Jamie dearest again?"

"I'd never!"

The compartment slid open, revealing a handsome boy, whom they vaguely recognized as the Ravenclaw Quidditch Captain, and in the same year as themselves. He smiled at the girls, but his warm gray eyes were fixed steadily on Violet with a look of admiration.

"Hello, Violet," he said, his eyes still fixed onto hers. "Would you like to—maybe—go out with me sometime?"

Violet's eyes widened. "You mean...like a date?"

He smiled sheepishly. "Er—yeah. Will you?"

"Sure." She shrugged. "You're Jackson Bradley, right? Sorry, but I'm not too good with names."

Jackson grinned widely. "Yeah. You will? Really?"

Violet shrugged again. "Sure."

"Oh, that's wonderful!" He looked as if he were going to burst out singing, but decided against it after seeing the Marauders in the same compartment. He didn't want to tempt blackmail from the pranksters.

"James," he said, with a slight incline of his head.

"Jack," greeted James cordially. It was obvious that they were good friends.

Y/n smiled at her friend as Jackson left with a huge grin plastered on his face. "See, Vi? What did I tell you? Lots of boys like you! Jackson's had a crush on you since fifth year."

"Well," she said dreamily, "I guess you're not the only ignorant one."

"What's that supposed to be?" asked Y/n with a frown.

"Nothing." Violet gave James an encouraging nod of her head as the train continued to move steadily.

Y/n, to her horror, found herself staring at James Potter for the past ten minutes in the library. She scolded herself mentally for not paying any attention to her Transfiguration essay, and continued to read the extremely tedious passage about human transfiguration and how to transfigure your head into that of an animal.

"I'm glad you find me extremely charming, L/n," said James with amusement, as e/c eyes met his hazel ones.

She flushed. "Well, I am extremely sorry, Potter, to say that I don't find you attractive at the least."

James turned crimson. "Are you having trouble?" He changed the subject abruptly.

"I am, as a matter of fact. Are you here to taunt me of my poor Transfiguration skills?"

"Nah. I was just wondering if you need help. I mean, I'm fair at Transfiguration, since I have a fortunate wand."

"Fair? You get top grades in it in our year, and you've never hesitated to tell everyone that."

"Well, it's not too nice, is it? Bragging about one's accomplishments and making people feel bad."

Y/n frowned. "But that's what you're all about, Potter! You've been showing off all your life."

He was starting to lose his temper. "Oh, so that's what you think of me, eh? Someone who lives in this world just to show off his achievements and accomplishments? Well, let me tell you something, L/n. I happen to care about my family, friends, and grades as well. Sure, I don't look as if I care about my grades, but I do. I guess I just don't study too much because all this stuff comes naturally to me, as my parents and teachers say. I care about my mum and dad, and I care about Sirius, Remus, and Peter. They're like my brothers, especially Sirius, who's living with us from now on. And I care about y—" He stopped, his eyes widening and his cheeks flushed.

"Me?" said Lily gently.

James shook his head vigorously. "It doesn't matter."

"Violet said that you love me. Is it true?"

"What's it to you? You hate me."

Those words tore at y/n's heart more than she had imagined. She was hurt that James thought that she hated him...but she did, didn't she? But recently, James' unusual behavior went out to y/n; maybe the arrogant derk really did change for the better.

"I'm sorry."

"You're what?" repeated James in disbelief.

"I'm sorry."

"You're sorry? What for?"

"For hating you," she replied softly.

His angry expression disappeared. "You don't have to be sorry for hating me. I mean, I never apologized for hating you, did I?"

"No, but you've fallen in love with me."

"Don't bring it up, y/n...please."

"Why not?"

"Look, it's hurting me enough that you don't love me, or even like me, back..."

This broke y/n's heart even more, for unknown reasons. Why was she feeling this way? She hated James Potter...or so she thought. But it hurt her to hear James suffering through all this, thinking that she didn't care at all.

"Look, James, I love you," she began, "as a friend," she added, as she saw a glimmer of hope in his beautiful hazel eyes.

James smiled. "It's all right, y/n, I understand. After all, I've been a great prat; who wouldn't hate me?"

"You can have any girl you want, Potter. Why me?"

He opened his mouth, prepared to give a whole hour speech, but y/n sensed that he was going to talk a lot.

"Look, don't answer," she said hastily. "I know you're going to tell me stuff about my eyes and smile. I'll think of your offer if you can prove that you love me."

"Huh? What offer?"

"You always ask me out, silly." She winked.

His jaw dropped open and he looked as if he was going to faint.

"Prongs?" said Sirius urgently, looking at his friend in alarm.

"What?"

"You look like you're going to faint, mate. Need me to help escort you to the Hospital Wing?"

"I'm fine," he insisted.

"You're not fine, Potter," snapped Y/n.

"Oh?" He sneered. "And how do you know, Ms. L/n?"

"Because I've known you for the past five years, and I know when you're not fine."

"She's right, Prongs," said Sirius.

"I'm fine," he said, yet again. "Leave me alone!" He jumped up and ran out of the library, to Gryffindor Tower, no doubt.

Sirius looked critically at Y/n. "What did you do to him?"

"Nothing!" she exclaimed. "I just told him that I'd consider his offer if he'd stop being a prat."

"What offer?"

Her cheeks turned pink. "When he asked me to go out with him numerous times last year."

Sirius grinned widely. "Oh, you are falling for my best friend, L/n. Now, don't deny it; it's so obvious. You are head-over-heels for James Henry Potter!" He said this a bit too loudly, and everyone in the library turned to look at him, including Madam Pince, the strict librarian.

"So," said Juan Demise, raising an eyebrow, "don't think I'm good enough, eh, L/n? Going for the purebloods, are you?"

"Oh, shut up, Juan," snapped Y/n impatiently. "I'm not falling for Potter! Sirius is just being—well—Sirius. And when have you ever asked me out?"

"Last year," he replied brusquely.

"Oh, that. Well, it was because you couldn't get my best friend, so you decided to ask me, so that you can get Arabella."

Juan blushed, cringing at Sirius' cold gaze. "You're lying."

"I, a Gryffindor Prefect, lie? I though you knew me better, Demise."

"Go out with my best friend."

"What?" Y/n was taken aback. "Who's your best friend?"

"Frank Longbottom. He's just broken up with his girlfriend of two years, Alice, and he's feeling awful."

"He's with Trish Vance," said Y/n pointedly.

"So? Alice is with Sturges Diggle and Frank's about to dump Vance anyway. Since Alice is going to marry Diggle, you may as well be with Frank. He's a nice kid, he really is!"

"You're mad, Demise," commented Sirius in awe.

"Thank you, Black." He smirked. "'Sides, L/n, Frank fancies you."

"He does not! He loves Alice, and I think that they should get together. If you were his real best friend, you'd think so too."

This struck a chord in Juan, for his face turned pale white. "I've been his best friend for seven years."

"Potter's known him since birth, and has been a better friend to Frank than you."

Sirius cracked a smile. Y/n is sticking up for Prongs...that's definitely a first. Wait until I tell him!

"What are you grinning at, Black?" said Juan sharply. "Find this discourse funny, do you?"

"Leave him alone!" shrieked Y/n. "He didn't do a thing to you!"

"Oh, I thought you'd never cheat on your best friend, L/n. Now you're going out with Black?"

"I am not," she said coldly. "Sirius is my friend and nothing else."

"You are pathetic, L/n," spat Juan. "No wonder you've never gotten a boyfriend before. If it wasn't for Potter in love with you, you'd be even more down in the social status of Hogwarts."

"Out of my way, Demise." Y/n pushed past him and ran to Gryffindor Tower, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Thestrals," she said to the Fat Lady, who allowed her entrance into the common room.

"L/n?" said James gently, as he saw y/n come through the portrait hole. "What's wrong?"

"Demise..." she began, but didn't finish; she started sobbing loudly.

"It's all right, L/n." James wrapped his arm around her and let her sob into his chest. "What did Juan do?"

"Being a prat again." Y/n looked up and gave him a watery smile.

James chuckled slightly. "Figures. Don't let the git get to you."

"He said that I was pathetic, and that was the reason why I've never had a boyfriend in all my years at Hogwarts." She conveniently left out the part where Juan mentioned James.

"Don't mind him. He's just an idiot, is all. You're perfect, and I think that every guy is mad for not liking you."

She smiled. "He's right, though. I haven't had a boyfriend since...well, I've never even had a boyfriend before, period. Maybe it's time that I do loosen up and get one."

James' eyes widened. If he couldn't get y/n to be his girlfriend, then no other guy should have her, either. But before he could say another word, there was a blinding flash of light. The whole common room illuminated and three figures stumbled out of nowhere. The two sixth years stared in surprise and confusion as the light disappeared, revealing two boys and a girl.

"We're from the future," said one of the boys. "Dumbledore sent us along, 'cause—" He looked at the other boy for support.

"Because Dumbledore wants us to see the past, or something like that," said the girl quickly.

James raised an eyebrow. "Er—hello, then. I'm James Potter." He extended a hand.

"Y/n L/n." Y/n stuck out a hand as well.

One of the boys' eyes looked shocked. On closer inspection, James realized that he had the same startling green eyes as Y/n.

"You're Harry Potter!" he exclaimed rather loudly.

Y/n gasped and clutched James' arm rather tightly, though the latter secretly enjoyed it.

The redhead boy, whom they recognized to be Ron Weasley, looked over at the couple with a critical eye. "You two are supposed to hate each other," he said bluntly.

"Ron!" cried the bushy brown-haired girl sharply. "Excuse him; he's not much to manners. I'm Hermione Granger."

"We know," said Y/n, nodding, "and the red-haired boy is Ron Weasley, correct?"

"How do you know all this?" asked Harry suspiciously.

"Dumbledore told us," was said with brevity.

"How does Dumbledore know?" queried Ron, squinting. "You know, I don't think you're Harry's parents."

James rolled his eyes. "Oh? Then who is? Arabella Figg and Sirius Black?"

Y/n snorted, while the other three stared in shock, and glanced at Harry nervously.

"Oh, sorry," said James, noticing the look on Harry's face. "Sirius died, didn't he?"

Harry nodded mutely. "He was like—like the father I never knew. He was both my mother and father, and my mentor. He was always there for me and never kept me waiting. And he was killed by Bellatrix Lestrange in an attack in the Department of Mysteries."

Hermione gasped and put her hand on his mouth. "Harry!" she hissed.

"My best friend was killed by his damn cousin?" said James incredulously. "Well, then, we'll just have to Avada Kedavra Bellatrix the next time we see her."

"Potter!" exclaimed Y/n. "It's bad enough that we know this piece information! But to actually change the future—?"

"All right, sorry. Anyway, I'm James Potter, and this is Y/n L/n, my future wife. Need to know anything else?"

"Was it true, what Snape said before?" asked Harry quietly.

"Snivellus? That git? I don't know, what did he say?"

"You've always hexed him at Hogwarts," continued Harry, unfazed. "Was it true that Mum hated you?"

James glanced at Y/n and then back at his future son. "Well—er—she still hates me at this moment, but—"

"I don't hate you," Y/n interrupted, blushing.

"You don't?"

"No. I told you I loved you as a friend, didn't I?"

"See, Harry," said Ron, looking delighted. "I told you your mum and dad never hated each other. You're just worrying about nothing. See, your dad, he's a nice guy. Snape was just being a slimy git as usual."

"You cursed Snape near the lake in fifth year for no reason," accused Harry, turning to James. "And y/n intervened, and she was yelling at you like mad. She tried to help Snape, but he called her a you-know-what."

James turned red. "I'm not proud of it, mind you, Harry. I'm sorry if that was the only memory that you've had of me. I'm sure I'll get better as the years pass. I'm not doing too bad myself right now."

Suddenly, the portrait hole swung open, revealing Sirius and Remus, grinning.

"Moony, Padfoot," greeted James.

"Hey, Prongs, you'll never guess what happened! Bella, Jen, and Vi all got a detention because of us! Oh, it was brilliant."

Y/n sniffed indignantly. "Only you'd think that, Sirius."

"Oh, hello," said Remus politely, seeing the future trio standing beside his friends. "Are you new? I've never seen you in Gryffindor before."

"They're the future people, Moony," said Sirius, staring at Harry in awe. "You look just like your dad, Harry."

"Sirius!" Harry flung himself onto Sirius, and the rest of them snickered at Sirius' stricken face.

"Er—why are you so happy? Oh, I'm probably dead, right?"

Harry let go of Sirius and smiled at Remus indulgently. "Hello, Remus."

"Hi, Harry."

"Where's Wormtail?" spat Ron.

"He's in detention with the girls," replied Sirius, grinning once more at the memory.

"Good."

"Ron!" chided Hermione, yet again.

"You guys would make a great couple," said James, before he could help himself. "Fight all the time, just like Y/n and I."

Harry laughed at the expressions on Ron and Hermione's faces. "That's what I keep telling him."

"Oh, yeah?" retorted Ron. "What about you and Ginny, huh?"

The Boy-Who-Lived turned crimson. "What about Ginny and I?" he said carefully.

"Oh, pur-lease, Harry! I see the way you look at my baby sister."

"Who's Ginny?" wondered Remus.

"Oh, she's my little sister," informed Ron.

"What does she look like?"

"Bright red hair, brown eyes."

"You're a very cool kid, Harry," said James reverently. "Youngest House player in a century? Unbelievable."

Harry blushed. "Thanks, James—er—Dad. What do you want me to call you?"

"James would be fine. Or Prongs. You know about the whole—er—thing, right?"

"Yeah. It actually saved Sirius from rotting in..."

"Harry!" said Hermione, glaring at the messy-haired boy.

"Sorry, Hermione," apologized Harry nervously.

Y/n smiled. "How many O.W.L.s did you get?"

"I got fourteen," said Harry, "and so did Ron. Hermione got fifteen, the highest number."

"Oh, yeah," said James suddenly, "you're the future L/n."

"The future what?" said Hermione, confused.

"You're just like L/n: studious, top grades, perfectionist, stuff like that."

"You're a close second, Potter," teased Y/n, grinning. "Top Transfiguration and Defense Against the Dark Arts in our year."

"You're top Charms."

"You two don't hate each other," said Ron suddenly. He had been silent the whole time.

y/n and James looked at each other and shrugged. "We used to."

"Why?"

"Hey, we were first years," said James defensively.

"We still hated each other in our fourth year, too," admitted Y/n.

"But why?"

"I don't know! 'Cause we were stupid."

"We have to go soon," said Hermione sadly. "Dumbledore only wants us to stay for a few hours. Time-traveling is dangerous."

"Don't go!" said James, looking alarmed.

"We have to. I'm sorry."

"B-but you can stay here forever!"

"Voldemort's in full power now," said Harry softly. "We have to help defeat him. Or, at least I have to, in order to fulfill the prophecy."

"He's gaining power now as well," said Y/n, her eyes darkening. "I thought you defeated Voldemort."

"Well, he was never really defeated when I was a baby; he just lost his body. And now that he got it back, the dark times of twenty years ago are back."

"I'm sorry," said James, "for ever being a prat. I'm really sorry, Harry. I gave you the wrong impression of how a father really should be."

y/n's heart went out to him when he said this. She knew, finally, that James Potter had really changed, but she was still uncertain that she liked him, or if he liked her. Many people nowadays told Y/n that James loved her, but she refused to believe it more than just a simple teenage crush. How little did she know that she was extremely mistaken, but it would be a year from now before she would even consider her feelings for James as love.

"It's all right," said Harry. "I'm sorry that I thought you were an arrogant person. I didn't think. But it was wrong of you to bully Snape like that."

"Yeah. It was. But I just can't help it sometimes. I mean, he's a Death Eater, for Merlin's sake..."

"He turns to our side," interrupted Hermione. "He's a double agent, spying for us."

"Really?" James looked amazed. "Never knew Snivel—Snape had the guts to do that. Wow. He should be a Gryffindor."

y/n giggled. "I never thought I'd see the day when you said that, Potter."

"We have to go now," said Ron, looking downcast.

Hermione smiled, taking a small square from her robes and held it to Harry and Ron. The three of them grabbed it, and the same bright light bounced against the room, and disappeared along with the trio.

"I'll miss them," said y/n, sighing.

"Yeah. It was great to see Harry. He looks just like me, but he's got your eyes."

"Hey, guys." Arabella, Jennifer, Violet, and Peter came into the common room, looking rather disgruntled.

"Hey. How was detention?"

"Boring and futile. What else? We did it with Wickham, so it wasn't so bad. But imagine if it was Hurst, though; it would've been hell."

"What did you guys do?" asked Violet curiously.

"Oh, nothing much. Just talked."

"Without any pranks or insults?" said Jennifer, looking surprised.

"Yeah."

"Whoa! That's way too much for me to handle."

"Oh, shut it, Bella."

"Where's Pad—Sirius and Remus?" growled Peter. "I need to get revenge on them!"

"Don't worry Peter," said James airily. "I'll help you."

y/n looked disgusted. "I thought your pranking days were over, Potter."

James tutted. "My, my, l/n, I thought you would've at least known that my prank days will never be over." With a swish of his wand, y/n turned into a toad.

"Potter!" screeched Jennifer. "Turn her back! NOW!"

"Don't be a spoil-sport, Jennifer. After all, the color suits her, don't you think?"

y/n croaked loudly, her e/c eyes burning into James'. The latter could tell that she was angry, even if she wasn't human.

James laughed, and turned her back into a person again. When Lily was back to normal, she was about to through a diatribe at James, but seeing his head thrown back in laughter and mirth, she decided against it. After all, it would be a long time before they would be smiling again.

So instead, being the good sport she was, she laughed with him. This surprised their friends, who were expecting a full-blown tirade from y/n as soon as she turned back to normal.

"Well," commented Remus, "this is different. Y/n L/n not yelling at James Potter for a prank."

"D'you know what it means?" said Violet, her eyes shining.

"What?"

"Things are looking up for both of them, just like we always wanted it to be."

Y/n and James looked at each other again, fully aware of their friends' mutterings.

"Some things never change," said Y/n to herself, smiling.

tags; @theredheadedwinchester

masterlist

#amarauder writings #it's a hate-love thing original version #james potter x reader

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rogerdvies · 7 years ago

Note

☾ + neptune / ♥ + my friend(s) / ★ + ron weasley

@hufflefck.

☾ + your favorite planet for a url poem/quote

❝ don’t mistake kindness for weakness, it’s not the same thing. my kindness is my strength; in your worst moments i can look past what you’ve done and offer you a helping hand, and if you push it away and call me faint-hearted, weak-willed and pathetic, then me and my kindness will flip you the bird and walk away. when you areready to realize kindness and manners are strengths, i'll offer you my hand again. ❞

♥ + something that makes you happy for a blog compliment

i love your url so very very much. it’s so sassy hufflepuff, and along with your quote in your description, it just makes me feel the sass that i feel like hufflepuffs, despite our kindness, probably have. your theme is also so neat and simple and easy to navigate around and follow, i really like it. also ed sheeran and troye sivan you have great taste in music and supernatural we should like talk.

★ + your favorite hp character for a hogwarts blog rate

house. gryffindor | slytherin | hufflepuff | ravenclaw

pet. none | owl | rat | cat | toad | something illegal that would be in newt’s briefcase

class position. student | prefect | head boy/girl

elective(s). arithmancy | muggle studies | divination | ancient runes | care of magical creatures

reason for detention(s). during one of the CoMC classes a substitute professor brought in a dangerous creature that everyone knew shouldn’t have been there – it was dangerous even for highly trained professionals. you were the one who spoke your mind and told the professor that they shouldn’t have brought the creature in. true to your word, someone got hurt and the professor got sacked – but not before assigning you a detention for being disrespectful. you didn’t mean to get anyone in trouble, but you had read the textbook and knew what the creature was capable of. that’s fine, because they were only a sub for hagrid anyways.

friend squad. harry potter, dean thomas, seamus finnigan, theodore nott, hermione granger, percy weasley, ginny weasley

significant other. ron weasley | hannah abbott

associated light spell. expecto patronum | protego | lumos | episkey | accio

associated dark curse. crucio | imperio | avada kedavra

NO MORE PLEASE.

(blacklist #things for 500 friends if you don’t want to see posts)

#things for 500 friends #hufflefck

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elspethsunschampion · 8 years ago

Text

Fact or Fiction: Epilogue

Rated M for abuse, sexual content, and discussion of rape/non-con. Canon-typical violence.

Summary: It’s Ral Zarek’s sixth year at Hogwarts. And everything would be fine if Jace wasn’t totally occupied with his new girlfriend, to the point where it’s honestly kind of weird, and Ral’s starting to be concerned. Now if only everyone would stop telling Ral he’s just jealous and LISTEN to him…after all, he’s NOT just jealous, right? (Sequel to Send to Sleep.)

Ships: Jace Beleren/Ral Zarek, Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy, Luna Lovegood/Hermione Granger, Nissa Revane/Chandra Nalaar, Elspeth Tirel/Teysa Karlov

A/N: Many, many thanks to @paperclipminimizer for beta-ing and checking my timeline, as well as answering all my questions about Harry Potter. Thanks also to Juri, @dragons-suck, and everyone on Sketchydoodles’ Vorthos server for listening to me rant about this thing as it took shape.

Also available on AO3 and FFnet.

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Epilogue

The cheery music and noise of the Christmas party washed over Hermione like a particularly happy tide, and she snuggled down into the fat armchair by the fire. Her armchair today. Harry and Draco were too busy flirting dangerously near the mistletoe; Professor McGonagall was laughing and actually dancing with Professor Flitwick as bad Christmas music played, and the rest of the teachers were kindly letting Hermione have it, knowing that she’d had a touch of the curse that Liliana Vess had cast mainly on the female students. Luna was curled on the arm of the chair; every so often she would get up, get both of them more eggnog, and circle the room saying Happy Christmas and draping people with sugarplum wreathes to “keep the nargles away.”

There was a rattling noise at the window, and Hermione glanced over to see that Kallist was jiggling up and down impatiently outside, making the latch vibrate up and down. A sudden cold chill went through Hermione, and she got out of the chair to let the little cloud in. He performed a sudden, rapid loop-the-loop, and then spat a slightly damp letter at her. Hermione blinked. How on earth had he been carrying it?

She ripped the top of the envelope and rapidly skimmed the letter’s contents. To her relief, it looked as if it was nothing but a Christmas card; a still photograph fell into her hand. Ral, Jace, Teysa, and Elspeth grinned up at her, all squished together against a generic background. Teysa had an arm around Elspeth’s shoulder, and all three of them were piled around Jace in an almost protective formation. Hermione smiled as she went back to her seat.

And found it occupied. Luna gave her a wide, bright smile from her new position in the armchair.

“That’s my seat,” Hermione objected.

“Oh, well, you know, I thought it still could be?”

“O-Oh!” Hermione felt herself smiling even as she rubbed the back of her neck bashfully. “All right.” She lowered herself carefully into Luna’s lap, then, feeling daring, turned and kissed her girlfriend’s cheek. It wasn’t as if their relationship was a secret, but so far, they’d been very restrained in public. But it was a Christmas party, and it wasn’t as if there were any students around. Luna would likely not even be a teacher here after next semester.

Luna blushed and made a pleased humming noise.

“All right, now I need to read this letter from Jace,” Hermione said, and flattened it out in her lap. “I’ll read it out loud, shall I?”

Dear Professor Granger,

Happy Christmas! Ral says to thank you for the charms you gave him.

Hermione choked on her eggnog, and Luna patted her back.

“What’s wrong?” she asked mildly. “What charms is he talking about?”

“Um.” Hermione felt her face getting hot. “I, well, I, um, found Mr. Zarek in the Restricted Section cursing up a storm—literally—so I gave him some, er, some books of my own. On healing. And protective charms.”

“Ohhhhh.” Luna nodded. “You know, I really feel that sort of thing ought to be covered in class. It’s remarkably annoying how difficult it is to find the information, and it seems like every so often really quite bad things happen. Just because someone doesn’t know.”

Sighing, Hermione leaned back against her. “I mean, I agree, the first time Ron and I—erm—I just used Muggle methods, because I didn’t know where to look for the charms. But I’m not sure this is something I feel capable of bringing up with Professor McGonagall. She already gave Harry and Draco a look the other day, and all Harry’d done was put his hand on Draco’s shoulder.”

“Well, she is a bit old-fashioned, I suppose,” Luna agreed. “But I imagine if we compile some statistics, we could convince her, don’t you think?”

“There’s a load of Muggle statistics on this sort of thing, I wonder if she’d accept that,” Hermione said meditatively. She sighed. “I suppose we can try. But I’m not going to think about this till after Christmas.” She returned her attention determinedly to the letter.

I hope you’re having a good holiday. I’m doing pretty well out here in Muggleland—Ral just hit me for that. I know I sound snarky, but it’s actually great. Mr. and Mrs. Zarek are letting me sleep in Ral’s room and no one’s bothered by the screaming nightmares. I think they’re getting a bit better, slowly, I guess.

“He’s doing better.” Tears rose to Hermione’s eyes, and she brushed them away. Luna took her fingers and kissed the tips very gently.

I wanted to also let you know that I’m going to take my NEWTS at the same time as everybody else. Thanks for offering to let me delay them a term, but I don’t want to graduate later than the rest of my class. I’ll figure out how to catch up if I need to. Ral and I are planning to go on to Uni, not do any of the Auror stuff or anything like that—I’d like to make sure that I can protect people from dark wizards, but I don’t really trust the Ministry anyway, even though I’m sure Mr. Weasley is very nice.

“Well, yes, Ron’s fine,” Luna agreed, “but I think Jace is very wise to want to go to Uni.”

Hermione nodded. “I’ll see if I can look out any schools that have strong Muggle Studies programs,” she murmured. “I know Ral, and he’s going to want somewhere he can do research on applications of Muggle technology. Jace is easier; he just needs somewhere with a good Potions program. I’d say Legilimency, but honestly, from what Harry says, he’s already beyond most people’s capabilities. I’ll see if there’s anyone really highly regarded, but…” She shook her head. “Well, I’m sure he’ll look into it as well.”

Please check on Mirko for me. They tried to come back to Ral’s house on the train because I think they were worried, and it was really sweet, but I didn’t think it was a good idea for him to show up in the Muggle suburbs. Let him know I’m doing okay.

Hermione looked up to where a blurred, grey figure in an approximation of a cloak was swaying back and forth near the punch bowl with Nearly Headless Nick and a floating spoon that was probably Peeves. Mirko appeared to be having a great time, and also possibly to be tipsy, if a boggart was capable of being in such a state. She smiled to herself and made a note to tell him that Jace was doing well later on.

Thanks for everything and I’ll see you at the end of break.

Jace

Carefully, Hermione folded the letter closed. “Well, he certainly seems to be doing better now,” she said. “As well as can be expected, at any rate.”

Fingers slid between hers, and Luna’s lips were pressed into her hair. “People heal,” she said. “Honestly, they do.”

“I know,” Hermione whispered. “But I wish he didn’t have to. Not from this…”

Still. She looked across the room to where Harry had finally maneuvered Draco under the mistletoe and was kissing him energetically, over to where a pink-faced McGonagall was busily transfiguring a Christmas wreath, and then over to where Mirko was now gently drifting down the table, apparently deep in conversation with the Grey Lady, though how they could understand each other, Hermione wasn’t sure. She looked back down at the photo in her lap, at Jace surrounded tightly by three friends who would probably die for him, thought about him talking about starting at Uni soon, about not letting his experiences this semester stop him from graduating on time.

And then she turned back to look at Luna, who was now sniffing her hair in a matter not unlike an enthusiastic puppy. It was a little odd, but adorable. Things had changed since the day she’d found a crying child in the ash-covered shell of a destroyed mansion. And—not for the worse.

#mtg #readmore #fanfiction #my writing #fact or fiction #the end

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blancheludis · 8 years ago

Text

How To Be A Hero - Ch. 7

Harry Potter Fanfiction Remus Lupin / Nymphadora Tonks AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/8672524/chapters/21644933

Grim Old Conversations

Later, he could not have said what he had expected to find, but it certainly was not this. Passing Grimmauld Place’s entrance hall in a hurry, tired and quite nervous about the upcoming meeting, Remus made his way to the library, until now the only really inhabitable room in the whole house. He was supposed to meet Dora here an hour ago, to spend some time together before the scheduled Order meeting, but was delayed when Moody wanted a detailed report of some failed mission.

As it was, he hoped that the library was still whole and standing – something that was not guaranteed with how badly tempered Sirius had been since arriving here. Remus could not really hold that against his old friend but still feared what might happen if Dora was in a bad mood, too. Those two could tear the world asunder without ever breaking into a sweat. Black temper, the both of them.

So it was with quite a bit of apprehension that Remus opened the door – only to be met by his friends bowing over something on the table between them, seemingly carefree and – giggling.

“What –” Remus started, only to trail off again. Neither of them were prone to giggle, having inherited the typical bark-like laughter of their ancestors. And, what was even more disconcerting, Sirius had not laughed once since being locked up in his childhood home. Instead he had hidden himself away, fire whiskey constantly at his side, preferring to spend his days in the past, brooding and feeling guilty.

Dora, too, had been atypically downcast these past weeks since the Tournament had ended and the outbreak of the next war was looming on the horizon. Understandably, really, seeing as the Ministry and most of her co-workers chose to live on in ignorance, denying Voldemort’s resurrection and missing all their chances to properly prepare. So Dora, as an Auror and Order member, did not only have to act all unconcerned at work but was also running herself dry with missions and Moody’s additional training.

For weeks now she had been tired and irritable, torn between seeking solace in his arms, like she had done for most of her life, and standing on her own feet, insistent on doing her part. At the same time she had been adamant that Sirius should not take unnecessary risks, wishing to keep her family safe, especially as he had only just been returned to them.

Finding them in such obvious harmony was therefore quite unexpected, a nice surprise, but Remus, ever the sceptic, was looking desperately for the catch.

“What are you doing?” He tried again, his voice firmer this time, though not even the normally so daft Sirius could miss the underlying nervousness. Twin mischievous expressions met his question, which did nothing to appease his trepidation.

“Well,” Sirius drawled, seemingly completely at ease within his own skin. “Nymphie and I had a very animated discussion earlier.” His cousin, while glaring angrily at the horrid nickname, flinched at his description.

They had had a ‘discussion’, and it had certainly been animated, though she was not too sure that anyone without Black blood would call it just that. In fact, they had both done their best to scream louder than the lovely Mrs. Black – who had been overjoyed at the entertainment they offered her.

Now that she was thinking about it, Dora was still angry. She knew the Black temper, knew the Black inability to remain at the side lines, knew the gnawing pain of being locked up in this of all houses. The whole aura of the house, the stuffiness, the dank and dirty rooms, the desperation still lingering in the wallpapers and furniture – she could feel it, could feel her blood sing out to it.

Maybe it was a Black thing, maybe she had entered the house expecting all of this and was therefore feeling it worse than other Order members. Maybe it was the boiling fury she always felt when thinking of her mother’s former family, when remembering her aunt Bellatrix and the words she had hissed when they had come across each other in Diagon Alley years ago. Dora had been very young, of course, but she still remembered that fanatical gleam in the familiar eyes, the obvious insanity.

So, yes, she could understand Sirius’ unwillingness to stay in this house, knowing that his aversion must be a hundred times worse than hers, seeing as he had a childhood worth of memories playing out inside these walls. But this was not only about him. He had family and friends to think about who cared for him, wanted him free and happy and alive.

At least Remus had not been on time to witness their screaming because it surely would have hurt him. To her, Sirius was family, a long lost cousin come back to life. To Remus, he was more, the last tender connection to the life he had lived before her. And, because he always felt the need to play peace-keeper, Dora was certain, that they would have hurt him, too, hurling words at him that might have been unintentional but cut deep nonetheless.

“So, in an attempt to keep the peace,” Sirius continued, oblivious to her inner musings. “We decided to get along.”

“You decided to get along,” Remus repeated slightly dazed, though the sarcasm in his voice was almost tangible.

“Yes,” Sirius agreed happily, then smirked. “We bonded over the one thing we have in common.”

“Apart from decades of insane ancestors and a knack for creating chaos wherever you go?”

“Exactly,” Dora chirped sweetly, sharing a mischievous look with her cousin, before both of them picked something up from the table and waved with it.

“You,” they chimed together, their relation obvious in the twin, slightly maniacal grins. It took a couple moments for Remus to register that the stuff they were still holding up were pictures. Pictures of their Hogwarts days.

“You were so adorable,” Dora gushed, expertly finding one where an eleven year old Remus was huddled into one of the armchairs in Gryffindor’s Common Room, wearing a too big sweater and his face scrunched up in utter concentration as he read a thick, old tome. His hair, he saw, was cut short for once, leaving him no chance to hide his sharp cheekbones, and the last remnants of baby fat that stubbornly refused to disappear until second year, despite him being otherwise skinny to a fault, due to his condition.

“I was just telling her about the incident in second year, when James accidentally emptied that cauldron all over you.” Sirius eyes were bright and the smile he wore threatening to cut his face in half as he held up another picture.

Little Remus was here covered completely in green goo, standing miserably in Myrtle’s bathroom while his ‘friends’ could barely breathe, so hard were they laughing.

“Accidentally?” Remus asked, his voice dangerously low.

“Of course,” the man-sized child insisted – and not very convincing at that. “We never would have done that on purpose. Not even if the potion we wanted to brew did not turn out as it should because we did not listen to you. Which you were telling us repeatedly. But that is not at all a reason to shut you up with drenching you in said failed potion.”

Looking from the glaring picture-Remus to the even more glaring real-Remus, Dora could not keep the laughter back any longer, falling backwards onto the couch and holding her sides in a comical imitation of the picture-Marauders.

“You are laughing at the wrong time, dear,” Remus said in a sickly sweet tone that was somewhat negated by the involuntary twitching of his lips. “Maybe you have forgotten that I have quite the collection of pictures of your childhood, additionally to the ones Andromeda sent me regularly. And we all know how much your mother loves to embarrass you.”

That made her halt, her hair turning red at the tips. Eyeing him nervously, she asked. “You wouldn’t, right?” But then her gaze fell back on the goo-covered Remus and another laughing fit overcame her.

“You can bet that I will.” Remus regarded her almost benevolently for a moment, then turned to his friend, who watched the proceedings with a highly amused smirk. “Alas,” and here he sighed dramatically, “I’m not in the mood to go back to my flat and get those pictures. So, we’ll have to deal with you first.”

Sirius gulped audibly, knowing that particular glint in his almost-brother’s amber eyes all too well. It was the same look he wore before executing one of his more ingenious pranks against those who wronged him or his friends personally. It was the look that made Slytherins run and Wormtail hide behind his curtains. It was the look, that had always promised the most fun to James and him – when it was not directed at them.

Finally sitting down at the table with them, Remus calmly searched through the heap of pictures. “Let’s see,” he breathed while sorting through years of jokes and adventures. “Say, Dora, have I ever told you about the day James and Sirius tried to break into the Slytherin dormitory?”

“Noo,” Sirius howled and jumped up, trying to snatch the very colourful picture out of Remus’ hands. But to no avail, as Dora had already seen it, eyes growing wide as saucers, while her laughter grew even louder.

Remus nodded and, with a predatory grin, he added, “The girl’s dormitory?”

“Do you want to grab some dinner and come over to my flat?” Dora asked, after the Order meeting was concluded and their fellow members began making their way out of Grimmauld Place’s kitchen, most wearing grim expressions or talking animatedly about recent events.

When Remus did not answer at once, she stopped her observation of the bustling activity and found him regarding her with a strange intensity.

“I don’t think that is a good idea,” he finally said, his tone carefully neutral which, naturally, set off alarm bells in her head.

“What do you mean with that?” Dora intoned clearly, turning around so she could give him her full attention.

“I mean that it is probably not a good idea for us to be alone right now.” Remus was clearly uncomfortable with this topic. “It might give some people the wrong idea.”

In a good imitation of her mother, Dora raised one eyebrow in scepticism. “We have spent time alone together since I was five years old.”

Remus cringed, before nodding curtly. “Exactly.”

He then avoided her gaze, busying himself with studying the scratched table in front of them. This, more than the probable meaning of his words, rendered her speechless. A small but not insignificant part of her wanted to give in to the sudden rush of anger cursing through her, to snap at him and set him right. Another part, and that one sounded suspiciously like Remus himself, warned her to treat with caution. Lest she allowed her temper to worsen this situation.

“We never talked about it,” she then said softly, no judgement evident in her tone.

Feigning ignorance, which, Dora decided, did not suit him at all, Remus cocked his head to the side. “About what?”

“Us.”

“There is not much to –” Now obviously in denial, Remus still refused to look at her.

“About what Sirius said about us,” she specified. “About what is happening between us.”

“Nothing is happening,” he insisted, his voice so patronizing that something inside her snapped.

“It is not nothing,” Dora bellowed, attracting the attention of the few Order members that had not yet left. She never spared them a glance, though, but jumped up and dragged the unwilling Remus toward the stairs. Upon seeing that, Sirius wolf-whistled, but one patented Black death glare was enough shut him up. Which, at any other time, would have filled Dora with pride. Now, though, she had bigger problems. The crumbling of her oldest and most precious friendship, for one.

“Dora,” Remus tried to calm her, putting up resistance as soon as they were out of their colleagues’ sight, but she only fastened her stride, gripping his hand even tighter, as if she feared he would disappear if she let go of him. And that was not even that improbable.

Only when the dark door of the library shut behind them did she stop, looking at him almost pleadingly. “It is not nothing,” she repeated, her voice urgent.

“But what if it is?” Having expected loud protests and twisted logics, his answer surprised her, told her more about his struggle then his previous distance. Before she could regain her wit, though, he continued in that infuriating teacher voice of his. “It is only naturally that you find yourself interested in your male friends. You’ve done the same with Charlie and that boy from Auror training. You grow close and at some point you want to test your limits. That is not necessarily a bad thing, but in this case –”

“I want to test my limits?” Dora asked incredulously, her eyes narrowed. Normally that would have been the point where he stopped, retraced his steps and tried his best to salvage the situation. Now, though, he pushed on, intent on getting over this delicate topic.

“Yes. But I can assure you, you don’t have to. I’ve known you your whole life and we are friends. Nothing more. No matter what else you believe you’re feeling right now.”

“Just because I, unlike you, am not a master in bloody self-denial, Remus Lupin,” Dora snarled, more upset than she thought possible, “Doesn’t mean that I want things just for the sake of getting them.” Huffing like an infuriated mother dragon, she pointed her finger right at his chest. “I know what I want, and I know why I want it and –“

“And I’m not going to risk some very good friendships for a passing school girl infatuation,” Remus cut in coolly, seemingly completely unmoved, but the expression in his amber eyes was flat.

“School girl?” Dora shrieked. “This is what you see in me? Some wanton girl lusting for a professor figure.” Taking the effort to straighten herself, she tried to calm down a bit, though the angry red did not disappear from her cheeks or her hair. “Sorry to disappoint, but you were not that impressive a teacher.”

Unfazed by her snide comment, Remus nodded. “Then we seem to agree on at least one thing. Maybe we can just put this whole ugly affair behind us then?”

Dora could not believe him, his cold demeanour. The nerve of this man. She knew – she had to be right in her guess that his feelings for her were not as inexistent as he pretended them to be. Well, that assumption was mainly based on Sirius’ observation, which should have been discouraging in itself – but they had both been Marauders. They knew each other. And Remus had not protested then.

Only now, after she had decided to go on the offensive, knowing full well that Remus would never do anything ‘untoward’ on his own. He did appreciate her and her parents’ friendships too much for that. But this vehement resistance was worse than she had feared. Especially now that their world was descending into another war and no one could be sure how much time they had really left.

“No,” Dora insisted, having to fight down the childish impulse to stomp her feet. “I will not. And if you’d only stop being stubborn for one bloody minute so we can talk -”

“There is nothing to talk about.” A distinct note of finality accompanied Remus’ abrupt tone and he turned around, striding towards the door.

“But I lo-” Dora began, desperately wishing that he would just listen to her, understand that she was completely serious.

“Don’t say it,” Remus cut her off, sounding as if he was already miles away, as if he was not interrupting the confession of her feelings for him. “Because you don’t.”

“Remus,” she tried again, seeing him open the door but unable to move herself. Every step further seemed to raise walls between them, almost tangible in the tense air.

Stopping right in the doorway, he faced her once again, though his eyes were fixed on a point over her left shoulder. “Be so good to tell Andromeda that I will be unable to attend our weekly dinner tomorrow evening.”

Then he was gone, just like that, and Dora seemed to sink in on herself, all strength leaving her shoulders, staring at the space he had occupied mere moments ago. It hurt, she mused, being rejected like that. Rejected by him of all people. And, even worse, she could not even begin to think of a way to salvage this situation, their friendship. They had always trusted each other with everything. But how could they do that now?

And she was not even sure whom she was angrier at. Him, for being his usual insufferable but honourable self, doing what he thought was right instead of what might bring him happiness for once. Or herself, for complicating their relationship like that, for falling for the one person she never wanted to lose. She was sure of her feelings, but maybe it would have been better to keep them hidden, to wait whether he would realize himself what they might have. If he would only give them a chance. Maybe it would have been better to have at least part of him – the part she had come to love in the first place, because he had always been there for her – than pushing him away because she wanted more.

A sudden cough interrupted her thoughts, causing her head to snap up hopefully. Had he seen reason and come back?

But it was only Sirius, standing awkwardly in the door. His face was unreadable, so she could not surmise what he thought of the whole situation. “It seems, that didn’t go too well.”

Feeling the need to punch something, someone if her cousin dared to make another badly timed comment, she said lowly, but dangerously, “Out.”

An elegantly raised eyebrow met her command. “May I remind you that you are in my house and –“

“Out,” Dora roared, her eyes glowing furiously. Sirius, very familiar with her typically Black temper, raised his hands in a placating manner.

“All right, all right. I’m gone.”

And then he was. And she was alone.

#my work #writing #harry potter #fanfiction #remus/tonks #remus lupin #nymphadora tonks #sirius black #childhood shenanigans #remus being stubborn #how to be a hero

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