#Ilvermorny

[iatnen]

Modern Ilvermorny Frat pt.2

RAAAAAAHHH 🇺🇸

I’ve been thinking…….. what Ilvermorny house would they be in….. Maybe Wampus ????!!! Idk what do you think chat

Bonus solo Dan - I wasn’t sure if I wanted to post this one but I’ve been slacking so I mean… I gotta give you guys SOMETHING

[gce-hiiragimare]

[thatsoanjie]

When the wind settles

Sebastian Sallow x reader

Summary : After Ranrok was ended, a Goblin rebellion happened. This is 5 months after the rebellion, and everyone thought you were gone for good. Sebastian revisits Feldcroft in an attempt to find traces of you again, not knowing what's to come.

Word count : 1.5k

Notes : This one was a little heavier to write! Just had to get this one out of my mind.

TW : Mentions of su!c!dal ideation... read at your own discretion.

Read my disclaimer and fair use notice here

The ruins of Feldcroft lay still, a silent testament to the war that had ravaged the land. The village, once vibrant with life, was now a graveyard of memories, its cottages reduced to charred skeletons, its streets choked with debris. The air was heavy with the scent of damp earth and ashes, a grim reminder of all that had been lost. Snow had begun to fall again, soft and steady, as if the sky itself was mourning.

Sebastian Sallow stood in the center of what had once been his home, his heart as cold and lifeless as the stones scattered around him. It had been five months since the final battle of the Goblin Rebellion, five months since he had lost almost everything that mattered. Ominis and Anne were safe, and for that, he was grateful, but the knowledge did nothing to fill the void inside him.

Because you were gone.

The thought was a knife in his chest, a pain that had become as familiar as his own heartbeat. You had been his anchor, his hope, his everything. And now you were nothing more than a memory—a ghost that haunted his every waking moment. They had told him you were dead, that you had been lost in the chaos of the battle, your body never found. He had refused to believe it at first, had scoured the wreckage for any sign of you, but as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, the terrible truth had settled in.

You were gone. And there was nothing he could do to change that.

The guilt was a constant companion, a weight he could never shake. You had been the best of them, the light that had kept him going through the darkest times. And now that light was extinguished, leaving him to stumble through the shadows alone.

He had come back to Feldcroft because there was nowhere else to go. The world outside was trying to rebuild, to move on, but Sebastian was stuck in the past, trapped in a moment that he couldn’t escape. The ruins of Feldcroft were all that was left of his old life, a desolate reflection of the emptiness he carried inside him. 

He wandered through the village, his steps slow and heavy, his mind lost in the memories of what had once been. He could still see it, as if the echoes of the past were imprinted on the air—the laughter of children playing in the streets, the warm glow of lanterns in the windows, the scent of freshly baked bread wafting from the cottages. But those memories were like ghosts, insubstantial and fleeting, impossible to hold on to.

Just like you.

Sebastian’s breath hitched as he reached the edge of the village, where the land sloped down toward the river. This had been your favorite spot, the place where you had always come to find peace, to escape from the burdens of the world. He could almost see you there, standing by the water, your hair catching the light as you turned to smile at him.

But it was just a memory. Just another ghost.

He closed his eyes, the ache in his chest unbearable. He didn’t know how to keep going without you, didn’t want to keep going. The world was a darker place without you in it, and he was so tired of stumbling through the shadows, of trying to find his way in a world that no longer made sense.

But then, through the silence, he heard it—a sound so soft, so faint, that at first, he thought it was just the wind. But it came again, more distinct this time, a footstep crunching in the snow behind him.

His heart stopped, his breath catching in his throat. He turned slowly, afraid to look, afraid to hope. And then he saw you.

You were standing just a few feet away, your figure half-hidden by the falling snow, your eyes wide with shock and something else—something that mirrored the grief and yearning that had been eating away at him for so long.

For a moment, he couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. His mind struggled to process what he was seeing, to reconcile the image of you standing before him with the brutal reality he had been living in. It couldn’t be real. You were gone. You were a ghost.

“Sebastian,” you whispered, your voice trembling as if you, too, were afraid that this was just a dream, that you might wake up at any moment and find yourself alone again.

He shook his head, his eyes wide with disbelief. “You’re not real,” he said, his voice breaking as he took a step back, his hands trembling at his sides. “You can’t be real.”

“Sebastian, it’s me,” you insisted, your voice thick with emotion as you took a step toward him, your hand reaching out as if to reassure him, to prove that you were real, that you were here.

He flinched, his heart pounding in his chest as he stared at you, his mind screaming that this couldn’t be happening, that you were just a figment of his imagination, conjured by his grief and longing. “You’re dead,” he whispered, his voice raw with the pain that had been festering inside him for months. “They told me you were dead.”

“I almost was,” you admitted, your voice barely more than a breath. “I was hurt, Sebastian—badly. But I survived. I made it to one of the camps, and they healed me. After that, I helped wherever I could—healing, rebuilding, trying to make sense of everything that had happened. But my work there was done, I had nothing keeping me there. I had to find you.”

He stared at you, his heart breaking all over again at the sight of the tears in your eyes, the grief and love that shone in them. “I thought I’d lost you,” he whispered, his voice trembling with the weight of his emotions. “I thought you were gone, and I didn’t know how to keep going without you.”

You took another step closer, your hand brushing against his arm, warm and solid and so achingly real. “I’m here now,” you whispered, your voice filled with a quiet, unshakable determination. “We’re both here, Sebastian. We survived.”

He swallowed hard, his throat tight with the tears he had been holding back for so long. “It should’ve been me,” he choked out, the words slipping out before he could stop them. “You didn’t deserve this. You didn’t deserve to suffer like that. I should’ve been the one to die, not you.”

“No,” you said firmly, your voice laced with a fierce, desperate kind of love. “Don’t you ever say that, Sebastian. We both fought, we both survived. And now we’re here. Alive.”

He hesitated, his heart warring with his mind, his grief and guilt battling against the overwhelming relief of having you in his arms again. “I thought I’d lost you,” he repeated, his voice breaking as he finally let himself believe what he was seeing, let himself believe that you were really here, that this wasn’t just a cruel trick of his imagination.

You reached up, your hand cupping his cheek, your touch grounding him, anchoring him in the reality of the moment. “I’m right here,” you whispered, your voice trembling with the depth of your emotions. “And I’m not going anywhere. I’m not leaving you, Sebastian. Not now. Not ever.”

He couldn’t hold back any longer. With a broken sob, he pulled you into his arms, holding you as tightly as he could, as if he could somehow make up for all the lost time, for all the moments he had thought he would never have with you again. You clung to him just as fiercely, your tears soaking into his shirt as you buried your face in his chest, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you tried to steady yourself.

“I love you,” he whispered, the words spilling out of him in a rush, as if he had been holding them back for too long. “I love you. I should have told you before, but I was too scared, too afraid of what might happen. But I’m not going to make that mistake again.”

“I love you too,” you whispered, your voice trembling with the weight of the words. “I always have, Sebastian. And I’m not going to let you go. Not now. Not ever.”

He kissed you then, slow and deep, pouring all of his love, all of his grief, all of his yearning into that one kiss. It was a kiss filled with the promise of tomorrow, with the hope of a future that he had thought was lost. And as he held you in his arms, surrounded by the ruins of Feldcroft, the wind swirling around you like a shroud, he knew that he had found you again.

And that was enough.

***

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed. Requests are open.

[pinkiemachine]

What up, Hogwarts?! Say hello to your new AMERICAN EXCHANGE STUDENTS!!! Don’t you ever come at me, OR my cranky Hufflepuff sister! Wizard Thug Life, fr fr.

Alternatively, while at home in the good old U.S. of A: Don’t you mess with me and my Thunderbird homies, or my sis and her Pukwudgie squad! Ilvermorny, represent!

[l-egionaire]

You know what? I'm bored, and I've got some ideas, so here are my Ilvermony headcanons.

The separate houses are treated as little more than an aesthetic difference by the students. While there might be rivalries and prank wars between the houses, it never gets to the levels of near discrimination that it gets to at Hogwarts. The students all just consider themselves students of the same school and members of the houses intermingle and hang out with each other all the time. They're even allowed to be in each other's dorms for limited amounts of time each day. The teachers encourage it as they often say that each house represents a part of what every great wizard needs, and coming together helps bring them all together towards the ideal wizard.

It's not uncommon for there to be students from other countries who don't speak English perfectly. Thankfully, there are charms to help translate their speech for the teacher, and the only part of their work that needs to be spoken English are their incantations. Though some might still ask for help in getting the pronunciation correct.

The dining hall students eat in is vastly different from Hogwarts's Great Hall, being a large room with mahogany walls filled with multiple circular tables covered in red tablecloths with gold trim and set with silver untensils, fine blue China plates, and crystal glasses. In the center of the room is a vast roaring fireplace with a picture of the Sayre family overtop of it. During feasts, the Pukwudgies bring out platters and pitchers of food and drink that stay magically hot and cold until the students serve themselves from them. Students are allowed to sit at whatever table they please, and the staff eat at a massive table in the middle of all the others.

The dorms are just different buildings of the castle that have five floors of T-shaped hallways with long red and gold rugs bearing the houses symbol. Along the walls of each hallways are dorm rooms for each years students. Students are assigned two each to a dorm, with their roommates's names being included with the letters they receive at the start of each new year. Roommates can't be changed unless two students agree to trade with each other. The dorms all have two large half poster beds with red and gold sheets and blankets, the blankets also carrying their houses symbol and pillows with blue pillow cases. There's also two desks, half dressers, wardrobes, and a set of three shelves above the dressers on both sides (the rooms are enhanced with expansion charms to give them extra space). The halls for younger students all have a dorm manager in them, an older student who was chosen to sleep on their floor to act as a chaperone and disciplinary figure to the students.

The students get to the school by way of multiple magical single decker busses that all arrive at Rockfeller Center in New York. They drive for around an hour before making a stop at a magically hidden pit stop where the students can get snacks, drinks and use the bathroom before the rest of the journey.

Thanksgivings at Ilvermony are always huge. The decorations include fall leaves that flutter and blow themselves through the halls, realistic turkey figures that jump around and gobble, and in the center of each dining room table is a red and gold hat that plays music. Each table gets its own turkey to carve (any leftovers are served over the next few days as sandwiches) along with boats of gravy and cranberry sauce, bowls of corn, mashed potatoes and carrots. And for dessert, a veritable buffet of pies, including Ilvermony's famous cranberry pie, the recipe said to have been invented by Isolt Sayre herself.

Any students without a wand before coming to school is allowed to select one from the hall of wands just past the sorting room. The hall holds hundreds of wands stacked inside their case along the walls. The room holds both wands so new they were just ordered yesterday and so old they were created at the very start of the school. After each sorting ceremony, the head of the school helps each first year's find a wand that "chooses" them, a process that can take up to an hour at most. It's also heavily guarded at all times by both a pair of heavily armed, muscular Pukwudgies and a rotating member of the staff as it's a prime target for thievery either by students or dark wizards.

Ilvermorny boasts a massive roaster of international magical studies electives. In each one, students can study the government, magical creatures, and magical history of the country of their choosing. Some even go on summer trips to those countries to further their studies.

Rather than O.W.L.s, Ilvermorny students takes the W.I.T. or Wizarding Intuition Tests, something similar to an SAT tests. The tests are taken twice, once during sixth year and once during seventh year for each class the students take, and the combined scores of each year are added together, and that average becomes their score. The better the score in certain subjects, the more job opportunities the students have.

To receive mail, students go to the mail room in a tall tower at the southern side of the castle where every owl goes to bring packages and letters for their deliveriees to receive. The mail room is student run and students are selected at random to do the job.

[hogwartsthenextgeneration]

I have the idea that Hogwarts does an international 4 month long school exchange every student can be involved in during their 6th year. Ngl haven’t actually wrote anything but here are the schools I would have them go to!

James - Pacific Islands School

Albus - Mahoutokoro (Japan)

Lily - Uagadou (Uganda)

Teddy - Durmstrang (Scandinavia)

Vic - Beauxbatons (France)

Dom - Caribbean Islands School

Louis - Ilvermorny (USA)

Rose - Ilvermorny (USA)

Hugo - Beauxbatons (France)

Roxanne - Pacific Islands School

Fred - Castelobruxo (Brazil)

Molly - Durmstrang (Scandinavia)

Lucy - Castelobruxo (Brazil)

Scorpius - Mahoutokoro (Japan)

Alice - Uagadou (Uganda)

Frank - Caribbean Islands School

[lenoreamidala]

wizarding schools, pt .1

[boxdstars]

Double Trouble!

Niyeah and Vince finally have fully fleshed out designs! These two are the triple-great descendants of Amara and Natsai. These cousins are menaces to society and their international student adventures at Hogwarts lead to all sorts of mischief. Typical Americans.

[nizar-dreams]

As amazing as Fantastic Beast is with all of the interesting creatures and additional lore, I loathe the take on the American Magical World. And not because American pride (‘Merica🇺🇸🦅🇺🇸🦅🇺🇸🦅) but because that might work in New York, but that social structure sure as fuck don’t work the farther west you get.

Each state is different, it gives them their charms, and each state also has… drumroll please 🥁🥁🥁🥁

NATIVE AMERICANS!!! Yes the people who’ve been on these lands since before the first of the 13 colonies even existed!!!

Can you imagine Magical America? The creatures who lived alongside tribes? The giant forests? Hell, the other sentient beings like the centaurs, goblins, elves, etc.? Imagine:

The great Rivers and Lakes guarded by the merfolk and swimming with the great salmons, occasionally assisting the tribes along their borders so they all may share what the waters have to offer them

The great Plains and Forests with centaur tribes being mighty and powerful, guardians of the lands and occasionally allying with the human tribes

Elves that are still short but mighty and healthy and who get mistaken for native children when they live alongside human tribes

Goblins living deep in the caves of mountains, living happily with little human interaction besides for trading for safe passages and materials.

Imagine the werewolves loving their inner wolves and having their own tribes and living peacefully in their homes.

Imagine that, for thousands, and hundreds of years they lived in peace, occasionally waring against themselves but things happen of course but they way the magic and earth had never been so healthy as it was. Gods imagine Yellowstone or the Grand Canyon? Or the Mojave Desert? The great basins, the plateaus…

And then, when the Europeans started claiming the land that the magical beings fought to protect the lands they have lived on for centuries, the creatures of the forest hiding the remnants of their great lands from human eyes and hands, protecting the magic that slowly dies as the land gets destroyed and the magical beings who called those lands home started to die and could no longer protect the land.

That they tried to cling and hide and fight for their homes with whatever they could, but when the magical Europeans got involved it just went to hell for the magical beings.

The Native Reservations, National Parks/Lands, and deep into the mountains, are some of the few places that magical creatures can live in relative peace. The centaurs are not as many, and the elves either live on the reservations or the forests. The goblins are not like their European kin, but they are not the same as they were, now instead of trade for safe passage it is trade for protection of human materials or trading for goblin creations. The merfolk have perished in most lakes and rivers where humans have polluted or hunted their food to extinction. The magical creatures who once lived on the land are either hunted down for sport or for being declared born of hell.

Now imagine Ilvermorny, created by a mother who wanted her children to learn magic, and turned into a way for tribes to take shelter and teach their ways as well as learn other ways for magic. The school cropping up in the midst of Magical Americas downfall becomes a place that the few tribes not driven out of their home learn different form of magic while creating a foundation for Native American magic to survive and be taught in the school. Imagine multiple sister schools (because America is too big for there ti be only one school) to the original Ilvermorny being created to teach, to embrace and preserve a culture they refuse to let be erased.

Years later and it is a core course that gets taught, and keeps a part of a culture alive that was on the bring of complete erasure.

Imagine that when African slaves started appearing and become enslave, those who escaped and found themselves at Ilvermorny schools, they started teaching their magics as well. Then as more minorities started to appear in America, so did the lessons in certain Ilvermorny schools where these minorities were prevalent.

America is a cauldron full of magical cultures being mixed, and Ilvermorny is the first to openly teach different magical cultures. The southern schools involve more Mexican, Spaniard, some French, and African magical courses, while the north is more French. The east coast is more influenced by British magics, while the west coast is influenced by the Spaniard, Chinese, and Russian.

They all had their own mix and all have the main course shared by the people who lived their first, but magical america is sooo much more more fascinating and so young still! There is still so much that I can’t possibly cover without a month of research! And we haven’t even reached the southern hemisphere!

Fantastic Beast is great, but it’s missing the uniqueness and complexity of America. And I can only dip a finger into the endless possibilities of the magical American world.

[caffeine-cryptidz]

i love the idea of an ilvermorney student transferring to hogwarts and not knowing british wizarding icons

british wizard: wait excuse me, you don’t know who Harry Potter is?! THE Harry Potter?!?!

american wizard: oh nah, not big on politics

[loganparker]

Ilvernmorny School Witchcraft and Wizardry

[milady-pink]

Also on AO3:

[gce-hiiragimare]

🥰the sisters

[thatsoanjie]

Lessons in tension

Sebastian Sallow x reader

Summary : You and Sebastian resolve the skirmish in Feldcroft, where Sebastian gets to witness your magical abilities firsthand. Family drama ensues. Back at Hogwarts, will things have changed for good between you and Sebastian? Or will the friendship last the lessons in tension?

Word count : 6.3k

Notes : Whew! Glad to get this one out there. This was an idea i've been sitting on for a while. Enjoy!

CW : Writing in details about a part of the In The Shadow Of Time quest... 1-2 lines that are gorier if you're not too fond of it lol.

Read my disclaimer and fair use notice here

The distant rumble of battle reverberated through the air as you and Sebastian hurried along the path to Feldcroft, the familiar cobblestone crunching under your feet. In the distance, you could see the dark plumes of smoke rising from the small village, curling like tendrils of a nightmare. The sky above had dulled, casting the entire landscape in an eerie, muted glow. There was a chill in the wind, one that cut through your robes and sent a ripple of unease through you.

Sebastian’s expression was grim, his jaw clenched so tightly that the muscles in his face stood out sharply. He hadn’t said much since the first signs of attack reached Hogwarts, but you could feel the worry radiating off him in waves. The desperation to protect what was left of his family—of his sister—was palpable, and you felt it too.

As the village came into view, chaos unfolded before you. Goblins swarmed the streets, their voices harsh and guttural as they gave orders to one another. Solomon’s home stood at the far end, fortifications shimmering as he worked tirelessly to hold off the onslaught, protecting Anne, who you knew was tucked safely inside.

Sebastian slowed, scanning the scene. “They’ve breached the perimeter,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. His hand hovered near his wand, every muscle in his body tensed, ready to spring into action. “Anne’s inside. She’s safe. Solomon’s strong enough to hold for a while, but...”

His words trailed off as his eyes flicked to you. There was a silent understanding between you. There wasn’t time for hesitation. Without a word, Sebastian drew his wand, and you both plunged into the fray.

You couldn’t help but admire the way he moved, his wand a seamless extension of himself. The spells that shot from his fingertips were precise, sharp, and relentless. He dodged a goblin’s swing with effortless grace, retaliating with a barrage of quick-fire hexes that sent his opponent sprawling. His movements were so fluid, so practiced, that for a brief moment, you allowed yourself to simply watch.

He was relentless—driven by something deeper than the need to fight. His need to protect Anne, his need to redeem himself for past choices, all of it was in the way he fought, his expression a storm of determination and pain.

You followed his lead at first, relying on your own wandwork, though the familiar hum of ancient magic buzzed faintly under your skin. You’d told him once, about the magic you could wield. The kind that didn’t rely on incantations or hand movements. The kind that answered to something far more primal. But Sebastian had brushed it off, teasing you at first, then simply chalking it up to exaggeration, to the overblown tales that often circulated among students. He had never believed it fully.

Not until now.

A goblin lunged at you from your left, its weapon raised high, and instinct took over. You sidestepped, your wand flicking as you sent a blast of Depulso into its chest. The goblin staggered back but didn’t fall. There were too many. They kept multiplying, flooding the village like a relentless tide.

Your magic stirred again—stronger this time. And you knew it was only a matter of time before you’d have to stop holding it back.

Sebastian glanced at you between spells, the same flicker of concern shadowing his features. He didn’t say it, but you could tell he was worried. Feldcroft was slipping, and you both knew that simple spells wouldn’t be enough. Not for long.

Another group of goblins surged from the far end of the village, overwhelming the villagers and the few Aurors who had managed to arrive. You cast another spell, but the creatures barely slowed. And then, just as one raised its axe toward Sebastian, you acted on instinct.

You didn’t shout an incantation. You didn’t need to.

The ancient magic surged forward as if it had been waiting, thrumming through your veins, your fingertips tingling with raw power. You raised your hand, and the air around you seemed to ripple, distorting for a brief moment. The goblin was lifted off its feet, caught in the invisible force, and before anyone could react, you slammed it into the ground with a deafening crack. The earth trembled beneath your feet, and dust rose from the crater left in the goblin’s wake.

For a second, everything stopped.

Sebastian turned toward you, his face drained of color, eyes wide. There was no teasing in his expression this time—only disbelief, awe, and something darker, something closer to fear. He had seen you cast powerful spells before, but this was different. This was raw, unfiltered, ancient power, and you could see the realization dawning in his eyes.

But there wasn’t time for him to fully process it. The battle raged on.

You could feel it now, the pull of the magic inside you, urging you to let it loose. And with each passing moment, the goblins kept coming, their numbers seemingly endless. Your wand movements grew faster, more frantic, as the realization struck you that even with this magic, you might not be able to stop them all.

“Sebastian!” you called over the noise, as another group of goblins appeared on the horizon. “We can’t hold them like this. There’s too many!”

He nodded, his eyes still darting between you and the goblins. “I know.” His voice was rough, strained. “But we don’t have a choice.”

That was when you felt it again—the overwhelming surge of power, more potent than before, more insistent. Your ancient magic flared, burning brighter, and you knew what had to be done. Without a word, you stepped forward, letting the magic take control.

The sky above you darkened further, clouds swirling as a tempest gathered overhead. You raised your wand, the air around you crackling with energy. Blue light arced from the tip of your wand, a wild, electric storm forming in the sky. You could hear the low rumble of thunder, the buildup of something immense, something destructive.

And then, with a single motion, you brought your wand down.

Light blue thunder, brilliant and blinding, streaked down from the heavens, striking the goblins in front of you with terrifying precision. Four of them collapsed instantly, their bodies convulsing in the electric storm before they lay still, smoke curling from their forms.

The village fell silent. Even the remaining goblins hesitated, staring at the destruction you had wrought. The storm above you dissipated slowly, the last remnants of the blue light fading into the clouds. You stood there, breathless, your hand still tingling from the raw energy that had coursed through it.

Sebastian was staring at you again, but this time, he wasn’t moving. His wand was still at his side, forgotten. His face was unreadable, a storm of emotions fighting for dominance. He swallowed hard, taking a hesitant step toward you.

“You… you weren’t exaggerating,” he said, his voice hoarse. His eyes were wide, still locked onto you as if he couldn’t quite believe what he had seen. “I thought you were just—” He shook his head, unable to finish the sentence. “That was...”

You waited for him to continue, unsure of what he might say. The battlefield was littered with the bodies of goblins, and yet, all you could focus on was the way he looked at you now—both terrified and captivated, both in awe and at a loss for words.

Sebastian finally stopped in front of you, close enough that you could see the rapid rise and fall of his chest. His eyes were darker now, filled with something deeper. “You could’ve told me,” he murmured, a hint of something accusatory in his tone. But then his lips twitched, a ghost of a smile, and he added, “Not that I would’ve believed you.”

You gave a small, breathless laugh, feeling the tension slowly ease out of your body. “I did tell you,” you reminded him. “You just didn’t want to listen.”

His expression softened, and for a moment, the two of you stood there in the quiet aftermath of the battle, the sounds of distant conflict fading into the background. The magic had left its mark on both of you, but there was a new understanding between you now. A shift that neither of you could ignore.

“I didn’t know,” he admitted, his voice quieter now, almost reverent. “But I do now.”

And in the lingering silence, you knew that things had changed. This was no longer just a fight for Feldcroft. Something far deeper had been unleashed—something that neither of you could walk away from.

The goblins' numbers had dwindled, their forces scattering like shadows as the last of their kind fell beneath the weight of your combined spells. The crackling tension in the air began to settle, but the smell of smoke and blood still clung to the village. Your chest heaved with the effort, each breath pulling in the heavy scent of battle as you and Sebastian dispatched the final goblin together.

But before the adrenaline could fully subside, a new danger emerged. In the corner of your eye, you saw her—Anne. She had stepped outside the house, no longer under Solomon's watchful guard. Her knees buckled, and she sank to the ground, weakened and unaware of the goblin charging toward her, its jagged blade raised high.

Sebastian’s body moved before yours could react, his expression darkening with the speed of his choice. His wand snapped out in a motion that was almost instinctive, and with a sharp flick, he cast the spell you never expected him to use.

“Imperio!”

The curse shot from his wand, striking the goblin mere feet from Anne. Time seemed to slow, and in an instant, the goblin’s wild charge halted. Its eyes glazed over, the frenzy of battle drained from its features as Sebastian’s control took hold. The goblin’s hand, still gripping its weapon, trembled slightly as it turned, locking eyes with Sebastian. There was no sound, no words spoken aloud, but you could feel the silent command pass between them like a whisper in the air.

The goblin raised the blade to its own throat.

And with a sickening, fluid motion, it dragged the weapon across its neck. Blood sprayed the ground as the goblin collapsed, lifeless, at Anne’s feet.

For a long moment, the village fell into an eerie silence. The only sound was the soft gasp of breath escaping Anne’s lips as she stared at the scene before her, wide-eyed, her face ashen with shock.

Sebastian was panting beside you, his wand still raised, his chest rising and falling with each labored breath. His eyes were wild, filled with equal parts relief and fury. He had saved his sister. But in doing so, he had crossed a line.

You could see it in the way his shoulders hunched slightly, as if the weight of the curse itself had pressed into him. He turned toward Anne, taking a step forward, but before he could reach her, a cold, familiar voice sliced through the tension like a blade.

“Boy, what have you done?”

Solomon’s voice was thick with disbelief, his expression one of horror and anger as he stood in the doorway, his wand clutched tightly in his hand. He had witnessed everything—the curse, the bloodshed, the moment Sebastian had made his choice. His eyes locked onto Sebastian, and there was something bitter in them, something that stung deeper than mere anger.

Sebastian flinched at the sound, spinning to face his uncle, but the defiance was still there in his eyes. His hand tightened around his wand as he faced Solomon, unrepentant.

Sebastian shouted, his voice raw with emotion. “Saved my sister, I—”

“With an Unforgivable Curse!” Solomon's voice boomed, drowning out Sebastian’s protest. His face twisted with a mix of fury and betrayal, his eyes flickering to the blood-soaked goblin on the ground. “From that damned book, no doubt!”

You watched as Solomon’s words hit Sebastian like a physical blow. The mention of the book—Salazar Slytherin's personal book of spells and magic —seemed to pull the air from his lungs. For a brief moment, you saw the boy you had known for so long, the one who was always so sure of himself, crumble under the weight of Solomon’s accusation.

Solomon shook his head, disgust etched into every line of his face. He turned toward Anne, who still sat on the ground, her hands trembling as she stared blankly ahead, clearly in shock from the ordeal. With a gentleness that seemed at odds with the fury radiating from him, Solomon bent down and scooped her into his arms.

Anne didn’t resist. She didn’t say a word. She only looked at Sebastian as if seeing him for the first time, her eyes filled with something you couldn’t quite place. Fear? Sadness? Disappointment? Whatever it was, it cut through the air between them like a knife.

“Your father would be ashamed,” Solomon said bitterly as he straightened, cradling Anne against him. His voice was quiet now, but no less harsh. “You’ve gone too far, Sebastian.”

Sebastian took a step forward, his face pale, his hands trembling. “Solomon, I—”

“Stay away from her.” Solomon’s voice was ice, his eyes burning with an unyielding anger. He looked at Sebastian with such disdain that it made your stomach turn. “From all of us.”

And with that, Solomon turned his back on him, leading Anne back inside the house without another word. The door shut with a dull thud, leaving the two of you standing alone in the fading light of Feldcroft.

Sebastian didn’t move. He stood frozen, staring at the closed door, his face a mask of shock and disbelief. His wand hung limply at his side, and for the first time since the battle had started, you saw the weight of his actions crash down on him all at once.

The silence between you was deafening.

You didn’t know what to say. There was nothing that could fix this—nothing that could take back what had just happened. You watched him, waiting for something, anything. But he just stood there, his chest heaving, his eyes fixed on the house where his sister and uncle had disappeared.

When he finally spoke, his voice was barely a whisper. “I had to.”

There was no conviction in his words. No fire. Just the raw, unfiltered pain of someone who had believed, truly believed, that they were doing the right thing—only to be cast out for it.

You stepped closer, placing a hand on his arm, hoping to ground him in the present. “Sebastian…”

But he pulled away, his face twisting into something desperate and broken. “I had to,” he repeated, as if trying to convince himself more than you. His voice cracked, and for the first time, he looked at you—not with the stubborn defiance you had come to expect, but with the hollow, haunted look of someone who had lost everything.

You stood there, watching Sebastian as the last light of day slipped beneath the horizon, leaving the two of you in a twilight that felt colder than it should have. You opened your mouth to speak, to say something that might reach him, but the words felt clumsy, inadequate. What could you say to someone who had just been cast out by his own family?

“Sebastian…” you began softly, trying to keep your voice calm, steady. You reached out again, tentatively placing your hand on his arm. “You did what you thought was right.”

For a brief moment, you thought you saw a flicker of something in his eyes—regret, pain, maybe even relief. But it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by that same indignant fire that had been burning in him since the moment Solomon had spoken.

“Don’t,” he snapped, shrugging your hand off his arm as if it burned him. “Don’t try to make this better. You saw what happened.”

“I know,” you replied, trying to keep your voice level. “I was there. But that doesn’t mean—”

“I saved her!” Sebastian interrupted, his voice rising. “I did what I had to. You heard him—he would’ve let that goblin kill her if it meant sticking to his precious rules.”

You could feel the tension building between you, thickening with every word. He was spiraling, his emotions crashing together in a storm that he couldn’t contain. You’d seen this before—the way he lashed out when he felt cornered, when he didn’t know how to deal with the mess of feelings inside him. But this time, it was different. This time, the stakes were higher, and the damage was already done.

“I know you did,” you said, keeping your voice low, trying to pull him back from the edge. “But Imperio, Sebastian? You—”

“What?” he barked, rounding on you, eyes blazing. “You’re going to lecture me now, too? I did what I had to. What was I supposed to do, let her die?”

“No, but—”

“Then don’t,” he snarled, his chest heaving with anger. “Don’t stand there and act like I’m the one who’s done something wrong. I saved her. I saved my sister, and I’d do it again. I don’t care what Solomon thinks.”

His words stung, more than you wanted to admit. You weren’t trying to make him feel worse, but it was like he couldn’t see past the hurt and rage burning inside him. Every attempt you made to comfort him seemed to ricochet back, twisted into something bitter.

“I’m not saying you did the wrong thing,” you said carefully, taking a step toward him. “But you have to—”

“I have to what?” His voice cracked, the emotion pouring out in sharp bursts. “I have to follow their rules? Their pathetic rules that don’t protect anyone? Look where that got us!”

“Sebastian, I’m trying to help you—”

“Well, don’t!” he shouted, cutting you off again. His face was flushed now, the anger radiating from him in waves. “I don’t need your help. I don’t need anyone’s help.”

The words hit harder than you expected, and you felt a sharp pang in your chest. It wasn’t true. You knew it wasn’t true. But right now, Sebastian was too blinded by his own pain to see anything else.

“You’re not thinking straight,” you said, your own frustration starting to seep into your voice. “You’re upset, and I get that, but—”

“Of course I’m upset!” he shouted, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “My uncle just threw me out of my own family, in front of my sister, for saving her life!”

You stepped closer, trying to close the gap between you. “But I’m here, Sebastian. I’m with you. You don’t have to deal with this alone.”

His face twisted, a mix of frustration and something raw, something vulnerable that he was trying to hide. He turned away from you, his hand running through his hair, gripping at the strands as if he could pull himself back together.

“I need space,” he muttered, his voice low and strained. “I can’t… I can’t do this right now.”

The words caught you off guard. You’d been so focused on getting through to him, on making him see reason, that you hadn’t expected him to pull away like this.

“Sebastian—”

“I need space,” he repeated, more forcefully this time. He finally turned to face you again, his eyes dark, filled with the same turmoil you’d seen in him since the skirmish started. “I can’t… I just can’t deal with this. Not with you, not with anyone.”

The finality in his voice struck deep, and before you could respond, before you could even process what he was saying, he had already pulled away from you entirely.

He took a step back, his wand raised slightly. “I need time to think.”

And then, with a sharp twist, he Disapparated, the familiar crack echoing through the village, leaving you alone in the quiet devastation of Feldcroft.

The moment Sebastian vanished, the quiet in Feldcroft became unbearable. The weight of his words, the tension that had crackled between you—it all lingered in the air, settling into your bones like the cold creeping through the evening mist. The village around you felt distant now, the battle's aftermath fading into the background as your mind raced.

You glanced toward the sky, feeling the familiar tug of your broom at your side, and without hesitation, you mounted it, kicking off the ground and soaring into the air. The wind whipped through your hair, the cold bite of the evening air sharp against your skin, but it did little to clear your thoughts. Each beat of your broom’s ascent felt heavy, your heart still pounding from the argument that had just unfolded.

He needs space. That was the last thing he’d said, his voice raw and defensive. He couldn’t even look at you when he said it. But the way he’d stormed off, the fire in his eyes—it wasn’t just anger at Solomon, or the situation. It was directed at you too. That’s what hurt the most.

You flew faster, the familiar outline of Hogwarts in the distance growing closer, but the rush of wind and speed wasn’t enough to quiet the storm in your mind.

Why didn’t he listen? you thought, replaying the conversation in your head, again and again. Every word felt like a puzzle piece that didn’t quite fit. You had been trying to help him—trying to make him see that he wasn’t alone in this. But he couldn’t hear you. Or maybe he didn’t want to.

Your hands tightened on the broom handle as the memory of his voice, sharp and bitter, echoed in your mind. “I don’t need your help. I don’t need anyone’s help.” The way he said it—it felt like he was pushing you away on purpose. But why? Was it just the heat of the moment, or was there something deeper?

The wind howled in your ears as you banked sharply to the left, circling over the Forbidden Forest. The trees blurred beneath you, but your mind stayed locked on him. Sebastian had always been stubborn. He’d always acted out when things didn’t go his way. But this… this was different. There had been a darkness in his eyes back there, something you hadn’t seen before. Something that unsettled you.

He’s not thinking clearly, you told yourself, trying to make sense of it all. He’s hurt. He’s scared for Anne. That’s why he lashed out. But even as you thought it, doubt crept in. The look on his face, the way he had recoiled from you when you tried to comfort him—it was more than just fear or anger. It was something deeper, something that felt like betrayal.

You flew faster, pushing your broom harder, the wind stinging your eyes as Hogwarts loomed closer on the horizon. The castle, usually a comforting sight, felt distant now, its towering spires indifferent to the turmoil brewing inside you.

You couldn’t stop the questions from flooding your mind. What if I pushed him too far? What if trying to help only made things worse? You replayed the moment he pulled away, the way his voice cracked when he said he needed space. What if that space turned into something more? What if he didn’t come back? What if, in trying to help him, you’d only driven him further away?

The thought chilled you more than the wind cutting through the air.

You were nearing the castle grounds now, the familiar stone walls and sprawling courtyards coming into view. The students milling about below were oblivious to the chaos you’d just left behind, to the storm raging inside your mind. The last of the daylight faded, and the lanterns along the grounds flickered to life, casting a warm glow over the cobblestone paths.

But you didn’t land.

Instead, you hovered above the grounds, circling aimlessly, unable to bring yourself back down to reality. You needed to calm down, to think clearly. But the more you tried, the harder it became to silence the thoughts spiraling through your head.

Was this all your fault? You had tried to make him see reason, to stop him from slipping further down the path he’d been walking ever since he found that cursed book. But had you pushed too hard? Was there something else you should have said? Something else you could have done?

You shook your head, frustrated with yourself. He’s the one who cast Imperio, you reminded yourself. He’s the one who made the choice. But the justification felt hollow. You had known Sebastian for years. You knew the weight of his choices, how he carried every decision like a burden. And now, after what happened with Solomon, that burden had only grown heavier.

The cold wind brushed against your face, bringing a shiver as your broom slowed, drifting above the castle’s silhouette. You sighed, the weight of it all pressing down on you as your mind raced with possibilities.

Maybe he needed space. Maybe he just needed time to come to terms with everything that had happened. But there was a part of you—an ever-growing part—that feared he wouldn’t come back. That the darkness you’d seen in his eyes tonight had taken root, and no amount of space or time would pull him back from it.

You lingered in the air for a long moment, staring down at the familiar grounds of Hogwarts below, where everything seemed so normal, so untouched by the chaos that had unfolded in Feldcroft.

The weekend had stretched out in front of you like an endless expanse of silence. You hadn’t seen Sebastian since he Disapparated from Feldcroft, and though you’d spent those two days trying to focus on anything else, your thoughts kept returning to him. Each moment alone was a reminder of the unresolved tension hanging between you, like a string pulled too taut, threatening to snap.

Monday morning came, and with it, the cold clarity of routine. You entered the Potions classroom with a knot of nerves coiled tight in your stomach, trying to steel yourself for what was bound to be an awkward day. The moment you crossed the threshold, your eyes instinctively sought him out, and there he was—Sebastian, sitting beside Ominis near the back of the room.

They were quiet, both of them. Ominis had that usual calm presence about him, but there was something different in the air today. The easy banter between them was missing, replaced by a muted stillness. Sebastian hadn’t said a word since you walked in, though you could feel the weight of his presence like a shadow in the room.

You chose a seat farther from them than usual, trying to give him the space he’d asked for. It felt unnatural, the distance between you, but you respected his need for it. Every part of you wanted to bridge that gap, to reach out and talk to him—to fix things—but the memory of his voice, sharp and defensive, echoed in your mind.

I need space.

So, you gave it to him. You sat through the first half of the class in silence, your attention only half on Professor Sharp’s lecture. Occasionally, your gaze would flick toward him, but he never once looked your way. He and Ominis exchanged a few quiet words, but otherwise, the two of them seemed almost as isolated as you felt.

Your mind wandered to Feldcroft, to the skirmish, to the way Sebastian had looked at you after Solomon’s outburst. His face had been so full of conflicting emotions—anger, fear, hurt. You wondered if any of those feelings still lingered. Or if he had simply shut them all away, the way he sometimes did when the weight of everything became too much.

Professor Sharp’s voice droned on in the background as you absently twirled your quill between your fingers, your thoughts far from the classroom. It wasn’t until a sudden jolt of motion beside you that your focus snapped back to the present.

A cauldron at the front of the class had begun to bubble over, its contents spilling out in a cascade of thick, green smoke. Professor Sharp muttered something under his breath, trying to contain the mess, but the fumes had already started to spread through the room, filling the air with a strange, acrid scent. Students began to shift uneasily in their seats, some coughing, others pulling their robes tighter around themselves to shield from the stench.

You grabbed your wand, instinctively readying yourself to cast a charm to clear the smoke, when a sharp tug of laughter reached your ears.

It was Sebastian.

He was laughing, quietly at first, but the sound grew louder as the chaos in the classroom unfolded. You looked over at him, and for the first time all day, you saw a flicker of something familiar in his eyes—amusement. Ominis had a bemused smile on his face too, though he remained much more composed.

Professor Sharp was too preoccupied with the cauldron to notice, but you couldn’t help it. You chuckled, the tension in your chest easing just slightly. It was ridiculous, really, the scene in front of you. A class full of advanced students, and here you all were, helpless against a puff of noxious fumes.

Sebastian must have caught the sound of your laughter, because his gaze flickered toward you, just for a moment. Your eyes met across the room, and there was something in his expression—something softer, less guarded than it had been all morning.

He gave a small, almost imperceptible shake of his head, as if to say, Can you believe this?

The gesture was simple, but it was enough to crack the ice that had settled between you. The knot in your stomach loosened, and for the first time since the fight, you felt like you could breathe again.

Professor Sharp finally managed to clear the smoke, waving his wand with a flourish that was a bit too dramatic for the situation. The class settled down, students murmuring amongst themselves as they tried to recover from the brief interruption.

You caught Sebastian’s eye again, and this time, there was no tension in his gaze—just the slightest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. It wasn’t much, but it was something. It was a start.

Ominis, ever perceptive, leaned toward Sebastian and muttered something under his breath, and though you couldn’t hear what he said, you saw the way Sebastian’s lips twitched in response, the way his shoulders relaxed ever so slightly.

You didn’t speak for the rest of the class, but the silence between you felt different now. Less heavy, less strained. There was still so much unresolved, so much left unsaid, but that moment—the shared laughter, the glance across the room—it was enough to remind you that not everything between you was broken.

When the class finally ended, students began filing out, chattering amongst themselves as they headed to their next lessons. You lingered for a moment, gathering your things slowly, not wanting to rush off just yet.

Sebastian and Ominis stood by the door, talking quietly. Ominis gave Sebastian a gentle nudge, and though you couldn’t be sure, it looked like he was encouraging him. And then, before you could fully register what was happening, Sebastian’s gaze found yours again.

This time, he didn’t look away.

He nodded, a small, almost tentative gesture, but it was enough to make your heart skip a beat. You nodded back, the corners of your mouth lifting in a tentative smile.

It wasn’t much. But it was enough to give you hope.

The evening was quiet, the soft hum of the common room fading as students retreated to their dormitories for the night. The day had been long, and though your body ached for rest, your mind was still too restless to surrender to sleep. You lay in bed, the faint glow of moonlight filtering through the window, casting silver streaks across the room. The events of the day played in your head on a loop, but none of it felt settled. The space between you and Sebastian, though cracked, still felt like it hung in a delicate balance.

Just as your thoughts began to spiral again, a gentle tap at the window broke through the stillness. You sat up, recognizing the familiar silhouette of Sebastian’s owl, Brescia. Her dark feathers gleamed in the moonlight as she pressed her beak to the glass, an unmistakable glint of impatience in her eyes.

You hurried over to let her in, heart already quickening. With a soft flutter, she landed on your desk, a letter tied to her leg. Her gaze followed your movements with a knowing look, as if she was privy to all the unsaid words between you and Sebastian.

With a slight smirk, you untied the letter, your fingers brushing against the parchment as you unfolded it. His handwriting, sharp and deliberate, sprawled across the page:

---

I suppose you’re still fuming at me for Disapparating like that? Or maybe you’re grateful I saved you the trouble of lecturing me any further?

Anyway, I’ll spare you a thousand apologies, as I’m sure you’ve already rehearsed a list of reasons I’m an idiot. You’re not wrong, of course. But if you’re keeping count, I did technically save the day… in my own way.

Don’t give me that look—I know you’re reading this with a sigh.

I won’t pretend to have everything figured out, and yes, I’ve made a mess of things. But you already knew that about me, didn’t you?

Rest easy, yeah? You’ll need your energy if you plan on scolding me more tomorrow.

— S.S.

---

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his cheeky tone, though the corners of your mouth lifted in a smile. There was a warmth in his words, a familiar playfulness that felt like the Sebastian you knew—sharp but softened, still the same boy beneath the layers of pride and defensiveness.

Grabbing a quill and parchment, you leaned over your desk, quickly scribbling a response:

---

Fuming? Perhaps just a little. I’d say you have a flair for dramatic exits.

But you’re right—you are an idiot. I’ve known that for a while. And just so we’re clear, you saving the day doesn’t absolve you from everything else. So, no, don’t think you’re getting away that easily.

But I suppose you’re lucky I find your cheekiness tolerable. Maybe even charming…

Sleep well, Sallow. Try not to get into any more trouble before the morning.

---

You attached the note to Brescia, who gave you a brief but knowing look before taking off through the window again. You didn’t have to wait long. Within minutes, you heard the familiar flutter of wings outside, and sure enough, Brescia returned, another letter in tow.

Unfolding the parchment, you immediately recognized the shift in his tone:

---

Charming, am I? I’ll take that as a victory.

Though, if you ask me, you’re the one who's dangerously charming. Do you have any idea how distracting it is trying to concentrate with you around?

I suppose I’ll have to find a way to get through the day despite it.

But since we’re being honest…

Wouldn’t mind a distraction right now.

Yours,

— S.S.

---

You felt a warmth rise in your chest, the playfulness of his words blending with something more. The tension that had weighed heavily between you seemed to shift, lightening with each exchange. It felt like a dance, a back-and-forth that was so familiar yet laced with new, unspoken feelings.

You grinned, grabbing your quill again:

---

Distracting? I’d say that’s mutual. It’s almost unfair, really.

And I’m certain you’ve mastered the art of being a distraction yourself.

But don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll find ways to make it through the day.

As for right now… well, I could say the same about distractions. But it’s late, and you’ll have to survive without me for one night.

Try not to get too restless, Sallow.

---

You sent Brescia off again, your heart racing slightly as you settled back against your pillows. The dormitory was quiet now, the soft sounds of your fellow students sleeping filling the air, but your mind was far from calm.

Another few minutes passed before Brescia returned, her claws tapping lightly on the desk. The final letter was slightly longer, the ink on the parchment bolder, as if he’d written it with more intent:

---

You’re making this difficult, you know. But I suppose that’s only fair.

Anyway, I’ve been thinking…

How about we put these distractions to good use? Meet me in the library tomorrow night for some studying. I promise to behave. Mostly.

And who knows, maybe you’ll find it more productive than you expect.

See you there?

— S. S. 

---

Your heart skipped a beat as you read the last line. It wasn’t just the idea of studying—it was the way he asked, the unspoken invitation to put aside the tension and be together again. A subtle olive branch, wrapped in flirtation but carrying something deeper. Something that felt like a step forward.

You quickly penned your response, a smile tugging at your lips as you wrote:

---

Studying? Are you sure you can handle that kind of focus around me?

But fine. I’ll meet you in the library.

Just don’t expect me to go easy on you, Sallow.

Yours,

---

Brescia took off for the final time that night, disappearing into the dark sky, and you finally allowed yourself to relax. You lay back in bed, the warmth of his words still lingering in your mind, a mix of excitement and anticipation blooming in your chest.

Tomorrow would bring its own challenges, but for now, there was hope. And perhaps something more waiting for you in the library tomorrow night.

***

Another long one! I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. As usual, requests are open. Happy month of October!!

[xoxonxo]

ron weasley x ilvermorny transfer? friends to lovers where we see a lot of their friendship/dynamic with some relationship fluff too! I also see reader being like best friends w the twins😇 thank u angel

everything has changed

a/n: no warnings, hope you like it ml !! 2.3k+

version on AO3

She felt a loud smack on the cold, polished wooden surface that had etched intricate designs. The young woman’s neck swiveled left and right before catching a glimpse of red hair towering over her. She dug her fingers into her hair and sighed before managing to mumble out an incoherent string of words. “Do you two ever get tired of teasing me?” The twins exchanged smirks, glancing at one another before replying simultaneously, “Never.” She scoffed, shoving a half-eaten piece of toast thinly coated in marmalade into her mouth. Fred and George sat themselves beside her, beginning to chatter about the upcoming Quidditch season. “Are you going the game?” George asked. A sigh left her mouth, clearing her throat and shaking her head, “No, George. I already told you I have to catch up on all my European Magic History, they taught it differently at Ilvermorny.” She turned to her side, facing Ron’s plate, with was piled with scones and biscuits served throughout the table. “Blimey, [Y/N], is there anything they taught you correctly at that ridiculous school? First no Quidditch, and now American Magic History— its an outrage.” She smiled wryly as she pressed a warm mug to her lips, taking a sip of her odd-tasting coffee. “Good morning to you too, Ron.” The boy scrunched his nose as he took a large bite from a blueberry scone, letting the crumbs fall onto his lap. “You’re gross, seriously Ron. Did your mother forget to teach you manners?”, she teased, shaking her head mockingly. Fred shot her a defensive glare, then returned to his conversation with George. “That’s rich coming from you. Insulting my own mother.” He crossed his arms before the two suppressed a slight laugh. Taking one last sip from her bitter coffee, she stood up from from the bench and reached for her knitted, black bag, “I think I should start getting to Potions, I might get lost again,” she added with a smile. The twins nodded, diving back to their discussion about the House Cup. Ron barley acknowledged her, too engrossed in the selection food mounted on his plate. She grinned at Ron’s appetite, then turned around and sighed to herself.

It was going to be a long day.

Potions, was nothing short of a nuisance for any Gryffindor on Snape’s bad side, especially if you were acquainted with Harry Potter in any way, shape, or form. His story shook her; back home, there wasn’t ever a renowned Dark Wizard who terrorized the magical community, (or at least not one she knew of). [Y/N] possibly couldn’t understand how Snape hated Harry, even after everything he went through, but being friends with Fred and George, meant being friends with Ron, which inevitably meant being friends with Harry. The eerie atmosphere of the classroom sent shivers down her spine as she settled into her chair, reaching in her bag’s contents for her Potions textbook. She flipped the pages open, her fingers delicately tracing the leather and stitched letterings on its spine. The clocktower chimed, indicating the start of the class session. She glanced to her left and watched as Ron plopped himself in the empty chair besides her. [Y/N] felt goosebumps rise on her neck as the footsteps behind her swooshed behind her. Her breath quickened before she heard Ron’s book hit the marbled floor, “Late again, Weasley.” Her posture straightened as Snape paced behind her and Ron, his voice echoed coldly. “Twenty points from Gryffindor. If you happen to be late again, I would have no choice but to deduct fifty more.” She grimaced at the deduction before Snape sharply turned towards her, his eyes narrowing in her direction, “I would suppose that in Ilvermorny they too punish tardiness, [Y/L/N]. I would keep an eye on your little friends in the future if you’d like to have a chance at getting third place in the House Cup. There will be no exceptions.” Her throat tightened as Snape walked away and stood near the front of the classroom. Her eyes trailed over to Ron, who was uttering curses under his breath. She snorted, tucking a strand of loose hair behind her ear. “Could you try to be a couple seconds earlier next time?” Ron scoffed, leaning towards hers, “I was only late because of Hermione. She was bloody furious when she found out I copied from her essay. What was I ‘posed to do? It’s mental, really.” She shook her head, biting her inner cheek, in order to stifle her laugh, “Next time you can copy mine, just, please try to be on time.” Ron’s face brightened, meeting a stern look from Snape, causing him to clear his throat. “Erm, yeah. I’d appreciate that, [Y/N], really.” Potions seriously couldn’t go by faster.

By the time lunch had rolled around, [Y/N] felt famished. Potions felt like it had lasted hours on end, and Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor Umbridge was tedious as ever. She plopped herself on the freshly mowed grass near the Great Lake, sighing with relief as she leaned back against the dark oak tree. She pressed her knees against her stomach clutching her stomach as it growled back at her. “Have some.” Fred sat himself in front of her, and the handed her a loosely wrapped sandwich and an unopened bottle of pumpkin juice, while George pulled out a bottle of his own, “You’re gonna need it.” Gratefully, she took what was handed to her and scarfed it down. “Thanks, Fred,” she spoke in between her bites, “I thought I was going to die if I had to be in Snape’s class any longer.” After washing her food down with the remaining pumpkin juice, [Y/N] skimmed the area around her. In the distance, she caught eye of a familiar group walking her way, followed by bickering getting closer.

“Harry is focused on Quidditch too, Hermione! You don’t seem to care.” Ron’s voice cut through the air. “Yes, Ronald, but Harry didn’t forget to turn in the paper for our group assignment! Get your head out of that stupid sport, and please, for the love of Merlin, when we go to Hogsmeade this weekend, you better remember to finish reading the latest chapter on Jinxes.”Ron’s nose scrunched as he and Hermione settled beside the twins, “Hogsmeade?” Hermione paused, briefly taken aback by [Y/N]’s question, then cleared her throat,“Yes, Hogsmeade. Haven’t you been there before?” Fred and George exchanged glances, preparing to interject before Ron spoke up.“You can come,” he spoke quickly before glancing down at his lap, “I mean, it would be your first time and it would be fun.” Fred smirked, elbowing his twin’s side, “Oh, I’m sure it would be,” causing George to grin mischievously. [Y/N] nodded eagerly, almost honored by his invitation. “I would like that, Ron.” The twins, almost instantly faced [Y/N], forming plans and ideas about what to do when the day arrived. “You still have to finish your homework, Ronald,” Hermione added in a sing-song voice before returning to the book propped up on her lap, eliciting a long groan out of Ron.

To say she had been excited to go to Hogsmeade was an understatement. For the rest of the week, she pestered Fred and George over what shops they were planning on visiting, checked in with Harry if he was tagging along, and even had Hermione help her with her outfit. When the day had arrived, it was warm and clear. “Fred, George! Over here!” She waved enthusiastically until the twins had spotted her. “I haven’t seen you this excited since I told you that there was a class for Magical Creatures,” George snorted, crossing his arms, “Harry, Ron, and Hermione should be here any minute. They got caught up.” The three watched the path expectantly before hearing voices behind them. “Ready to go?”Harry and Ron strolled towards them, Hermione following closely behind. [Y/N] turned around almost instantly and grinned, “Obviously.” Once they arrived to Hogsmeade, she felt her heart begin to race. There were rows of small shops with colorful displays to catch the attention of younger students from Hogwarts, and bustling crowds bumping shoulders on their way to get somewhere. It was practically everything she had dreamed of. Eventually, they had split up— Harry, Ron, and Hermione decided to get some supplies they needed while Fred and George gave her a quick tour of the place before heading to the three broomsticks. [Y/N] had spent a small fortune for sweets at Honeydukes, stylish robes at Madam Malkin’s, and supplies for her pet owl she had run out of. As they stepped into the pub, the three walked over to Harry, Ron, and Hermione who had already ordered a round of Butterbeer for the six of them. “Blood Hell, [Y/N]! Did you buy all of Hogsmeade? How many bags do you have,” Ron exclaimed, his eyes wide. She rolled her eyes as she settled into her seat, grabbing the jug of Butterbeer and bringing it to her lips. “Seven. I was going to share the caramel fudge I bought, but since you decided to be an arse I suppose you wont be getting any.” She wiped off the foam from her lips with the back of her wrist, ignoring the gasps and apologizes coming from Ron. Fred and George exchanged a look and cackled, causing Harry and Hermione to join in he laughter.“Uh, you have a bit of,” Ron began, leaning in to wipe off the smear of sweet foam she had left on her lip with his thumb. The touch was brief, but didn’t fail to send a shiver down her spine, causing her ears to turn pink. The pub went quieted briefly, all but a couple whispers and clinks of glasses were heard. She felt her face heat up as she managed to clear her throat, “Thank you.” Ron laughed nervously, “No problem.” He returned to his own Butterbeer and chugged the rest, calling the bar keeper to bring him another. “Merlin, Ron. You’re hopeless,” George added, causing [Y/N] to look away. Sensing the tension, Hermione smiled sternly and faced [Y/N], “I think you should come to the Quidditch game, [Y/N]. It would be nice having someone watch with me.” She glanced at the eager twins before letting a soft sigh escape her mouth, “Fine, I’ll go. But don’t expect me to understand anything.” As the chatter in the pub resumed its buzz, Ron and [Y/N] exchanged glances, smiling.

The first Quidditch game of the season happened to be Gryffindor against Slytherin, which was highly anticipated. Hermione and [Y/N], who happened to be decked out in everything Gryffindor or red they could find, sat near the front. The student section was roaring with excitement, cursing at the other side, and cheering for their own. She knew very little about the game— Harry, the Seeker had to catch the snitch; Fred and George were something called Beaters; and that Ron was a Keeper. To be quite frank, she didn’t know half of the rules. She didn’t understand what each position did, or how they were different, and was baffled as to why the game ended once the Snitch was caught— because wouldn’t that make everything else in the game pointless? But she didn’t dare ask Hermione because all she could do was stare at Ron. She barely noticed that the game had started if it weren’t for Ron flying over Harry to get to his position by the goalpost. Points were scored on both sides, though there were times that [Y/N] had thought Gryffindor was wrongfully penalized (or maybe she was quite biased). The cheers from the stands were deafening. For a game that she didn’t care about, she was on the edge of her seat for the entirety of the match. Suddenly, two hours into the game, the crowd erupted into cheers, but [Y/N] couldn’t keep her eyes off Ron. He took over her mind ever since Hogsmeade—or maybe ever before. Hermione shook her, pointing excitedly to Harry, who had the snitch in his hand, showcasing it to his teammates and the Gryffindor student section. She began to cheer as fellow Gryffindors raced into the field, congratulating Harry. But [Y/N] knew who she looking for. The twins ran over to her, asking her if she saw the times they made a goal, she nodded absentmindedly and smiled as she scanned the field for red hair. She glanced to her left and saw Ron. He was sweaty, and his hair was pushed back. She waisted no time and made her way to him, oblivious to the screams of her name coming from behind her. “Ron!” she called out to him, breathless as she approached him. He turned towards her, his toothy grin spreading across his face. “You did it!” with a swift motion, he pulled her by the waist and pressed his lips against hers, cupping her cheek. The kiss caught her off guard, leaving her breathless, melting at his touch. Before she could react he pulled away, his expression mixed with smugness and satisfaction. “Sorry, I had to do that.” He searched her eyes for any hesitation. She grabbed his shirt in a twist and pulled him closer, kissing him once more. This time the kiss was hungrier, letting her hands tangle into his hair as he pulled her by the waist. When they pulled away once more, she attempted to conceal her excitement by biting her lip, but then quickly gave up and laughed. The sounds of triumph and celebration resumed as Ron’s thumb traced her jawline. “You know,” He started, as he brushed a loose strand of hair from her face, “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.” Red coated her cheeks, letting her gaze settle on his, “I’m glad you did.” Fred and George interrupted them with a loud roar. Fred nudged at his twin’s side, his hand outstretched, “Five galleons, George,” they chuckled.

They won their first match, but Ron won [Y/N]’s heart too.

[mrssarablack]

Share the story of how you got your wand.

Ilvermorny does things differently. We don't get our wands before the school year starts. Instead of going to a shop we go directly from out sorting ceremony into a separate room called the Hall of Wands for a secondary ceremony.

It's a very large room, set up kind of like a trophy room that's lined with wands on display. Some are other students wands that are kept in house over the summer or if you are a student that lives off campus they're stored there over night. Legally, we can't have our wands until we're 18, because of course we can't.

Anyway, after the sorting happens the doors open to this room and we are directed to go inside where there is a purveyor of the wands, and where the rest of the class that had been sorted was waiting for the Sorting to end. We were divided into our houses and told to stand along the wall of the circular room.

The purveyor of wands is like a librarian in this setting. She tells you about the process, how the wand picks out who it wants to choose. Of my wand ceremony I remember feeling incredibly nervous. The thought of what if there is no wand for me definitely crossed my mind but she was very kind and directed me towards the wall of options, and this was only made worse by being at the latter end of the alphabet. I watched as students blew things up and struggled or picked with ease in some cases. We ran the gambit but eventually it was my turn and I stepped forward.

She seemed to sense my nerves as I looked up at the wall of wands and assured me that if I didn't find one on display she had more she could dig up to try. She told me to trust my gut and find the one that felt right. I nodded at her and proceeded to walk slowly down the line of shelves taking in the look of each wand. There were a few I liked the look of, and I could have tried them. She encouraged me to even but I wanted to be sure.

I kept one stepping and running my eyes over the colors and the textures, the designs, of all the options noting certain things until on the second walk back I decided I very much liked the look of one in particular. It had caught my eye on the two previous slow walks and I told her that one. She smiled at me and noted the make of it:  red oak with a thestral hair core, 10 3/4" and slightly yielding in bend. To be honest that meant very little to ten year old me because I was struck by the feel of it's weight and how balanced it was. Like a good conductors baton it just felt nice to hold. Then she told me to give it a go. I remember giving her a puzzled look and she simply demonstrated a flick of her own wand and I did the same. Almost immediately it began to glow and feel warm in my hand but not in an alarming something had gone wrong sort of way. I remember staring at it in happy disbelief that it had actually worked and my gut had been right on which wand was mine. The woman clapped and happily congratulated me before telling me to join my class. I hadn't even noticed that a second set of doors had swung open to yet another hall where yet again the rest of my class, save a few later letters, were waiting. I posted up next to Jakub as he was in my house and Anna was not... he made a quip of some sort, and we were fast friends after that.