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the-al-chemist · 2 years ago

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Artemis Hexley: The Wilderness Years

Chapter 1: Novel Ideas

A/N: “The Wilderness Years” have begun, and we kick off this story with Artemis at work, where she gets into a tricky situation with one of her colleagues. Warnings: Mentions of canon character death, a lot of exposition, and an episode of exploitation.

The new year had well and truly begun, and London was growing bleaker and more bitterly cold with each passing January day.

Thankfully, neither the chilly winds nor the grey skies could reach the underground offices of the Ministry of Magic. Artemis Hexley had been working for the Ministry’s Department of Magical Games and Sports for two months on a confidential project, one that was the subject of so much secrecy that only those directly involved in the organising of it were allowed to know about it: the Triwizard Tournament.

Sometimes, it felt as if even those in charge of organising the tournament knew very little about it. So far all they seemed to have done was play team-building games and have several fruitless meetings under the direction of their charismatic but somewhat inefficient department head, Ludo Bagman. Today, however, when Artemis arrived at the office, there was a more formal feel to their meeting, thanks to the addition of a stern looking and smartly dressed wizard with grey hair and a moustache at Bagman’s side.

“Who’s that?” Artemis whispered to her colleague Badeea Ali as the rest of their team took their seats. Badeea’s neatly shaped eyebrows furrowed.

“That’s Mr Crouch,” she replied. “He’s the Head of the Department of International Magical Co-Operation.”

“He looks a bit serious, doesn’t he?”

Badeea’s lips twitched, but she said nothing. Neither did Mr Crouch, who stayed silent for the majority of the meeting as Bagman chortled his way through the same points that had been made a week previously, and a week prior to that, once again without reaching any sort of tangible conclusion. With each minute, the expression on Mr Crouch’s face grew increasingly tense, until Artemis thought that the small vein protruding in his forehead might burst.

Thankfully, before any harm could come to either Mr Crouch or his forehead vein, the meeting drew to a close.

“Great work, chaps and… chapettes,” said Bagman, clapping his hands together loudly. “We’ve made some real progress today. So, how about we leave it there and reconvene-”

“Pardon my interruption,” Mr Crouch interrupted, “but what progress did you make in this exercise, exactly?”

“Oh, well, you know…”

“No, I don’t know.” Mr Crouch sighed and tutted. “Bagman, I am not certain that I have seen you make any progress in the last month whatsoever.”

Ludo Bagman shook his head, his smile not slipping from his face at all. “This is a brand new team we’ve got here, Barty, and you have to get a new team working together before you can get them working together.”

Artemis’ nose wrinkled and she cast a sceptical glance at Badeea, who began to doodle on the parchment in front of her. Across the room, Mr Crouch’s forehead vein was more prominent than ever.

“Be that as it may,” he said, an edge to his voice, “the Triwizard Tournament will officially begin in nine months, and within that timeframe we will have at least one month of our resources being stretched by the Quidditch World Cup.”

“We’ll have the Quaffle well and truly rolling by August, Barty, don’t you worry.”

“But I am worried, Bagman. I am very worried. I need to pass all the challenges through regulatory checks before they can be sanctioned, and you and your team have yet to even decide on what these will entail.”

“Ah… No, not yet. But we have set dates for all three.”

“The date is not what needs regulating, Bagman. I need to know the details for each challenge, and I need them by the end of the week.”

“End of the week?” Ludo swallowed, before the smile returned to his face and he laughed out loud. “Ah, Barty. You underestimate my team. You know, we have some of the brightest and best brains in the country working on this project.”

“If that’s true, then this deadline won’t be a problem for them, will it?” Mr Crouch gave a strained sort of smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ll see you all on Friday. Good day, Bagman. Good day, all of you.”

Mr Crouch left the room, and as the door swung closed behind him, Ludo Bagman let out a hearty guffaw.

“Well, you heard the wizard. Best get your thinking caps on. Ideas by Friday, team.”

“Wait, what?”

Nymphadora Tonks’ violet eyebrows nearly disappeared up into her hairline. Artemis sighed heavily.

“You heard,” she muttered, with a sideways glance at Badeea. “We’ve got to have plans for pretty much the whole project by Friday.”

“And you’ve done literally nothing so far except set dates?” asked Tonks.

“That and pick countries for the Quidditch World Cup sweepstake. That was the main point of our second meeting, I think.”

“Okay, but other than that you have nothing?”

Artemis put her hands in the air and shook her head in response to Tonks’ question. Beside her, though, Badeea was stirring her tea and looking as if she were deep in thought.

“Actually,” she murmured softly, “I might have an idea for one of the challenges.”

Before Badeea could elaborate further, however, the three of them were interrupted by a new arrival at their table.

Thomasina Thistlethwaite was the youngest member of the team Ludo Bagman had put together to work on the Triwizard Tournament. Barely out of Hogwarts, Thomasina was always eager to please and fit in with their colleagues, most of whom treated her with mild indifference. Artemis couldn’t help but feel sorry for her. She had known Badeea since they had attended Hogwarts themselves, and though they had lost touch in the three years since leaving school, they had quickly rekindled their friendship once they were thrown into an office together. Poor Thomasina knew no one.

“Is it okay if I sit with you?” Thomasina asked. “I was meant to be meeting my sister for lunch, but she sent a memo to the office to say she’d be late.”

“Sure,” said Artemis, moving over so Thomasina could take a seat between her and Badeea. “As long as you don’t mind us talking about work.”

“Oh, no. Not at all. Do either of you have any ideas for Mr Crouch yet?”

“I might,” said Badeea. She looked across at Artemis. “I just remembered the story you told me about that labyrinth you explored in Crete, and I think a labyrinth would maybe make a good challenge for one of the tasks. A race to the centre, with false paths and obstacles in the way to make it harder.”

“That’s a brilliant idea, Badeea!” Artemis told her.

“Really?” Badeea tilted her head to one side. “You wouldn’t mind me suggesting it to Crouch?”

“Why would I?”

“Well, I took the idea from your story about Gringotts, and I know you had stuff go on while you were working with them…”

“I’ve always had stuff going on,” muttered Artemis. “No, it’s great. Really. You should suggest it.”

“Hold on,” Thomasina Thistlethwaite frowned. “You worked at Gringotts?”

“Yeah.”

“How long for?”

“Just over two years. Did my Curse-Breaker training and then worked in Egypt for a bit before I decided to leave and come back here.”

“Oh, I thought you two used to work together because you knew each other,” said Thomasina. Artemis shook her head.

“No. We went to Hogwarts together. Tonks, too.”

“Me and Artemis shared a dormitory. Now we share a house,” Tonks said. “Honestly, I can’t get rid of her.”

“It’s my house!”

Thomasina ignored Tonks and Artemis’ bickering. “What was Egypt like?”

“Hot, mainly.” From the expression on Thomasina’s face, Artemis could tell that she had answered her question a bit too abruptly, so she smiled and continued, “I got to meet a real Sphinx.”

“Really? Did it ask you a riddle? Did you solve it?”

“My colleague did. I've never been much good at solving riddles or puzzles.”

Beside her, Tonks let out a loud snort, and Badeea’s lips twitched slightly. Thomasina frowned.

“What?” she asked, looking between the other three witches. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” said Artemis, but she could tell that Thomasina didn’t believe her. Instead, she had pursed her lips together, and her eyes were flicking from side to side as if she were piecing together a puzzle herself. As her eyes widened with a look of realisation, Artemis stiffened.

“Oh!” Thomasina’s mouth dropped open. “You’re that Hexley! The one who was into all that cursed stuff at Hogwarts!”

Artemis forced a smile. “Guilty.”

“That’s really cool. Everyone used to talk about it a lot, but I never really knew how much of it was true and how much was just rumours.”

“Classic Hogwarts,” Tonks snickered into her coffee.

“So, did you really pillage a mermish settlement?” asked Thomasina, once again paying no attention to Tonks. Artemis laughed and shook her head.

“That’s a rumour,” she said. “But we did have to make a deal with the merpeople to access one of the Cursed Vaults. It was in the lake, and we had to go through their village to get to it.”

“And what about the Acromantula? Was that a rumour, too?”

“No, we actually fought one of those.”

“Just one?” Thomasina looked almost disappointed. “I heard it was a whole bunch.”

“What? No, rumour. Trust me, one was hard enough.” Artemis cast a glance at Tonks and added, “I’ve still got the scar on my ankle to prove it.”

“Not to mention Charlie breaking his leg trying to get past that Red Cap, remember?” Badeea chipped in. Thomasina’s eyebrows shot up.

“What other creatures have you had to deal with?”

“Oh, not that much else,” said Artemis. “It was more finding ways past the spell defences of the Vaults themselves, and all the Boggarts that were released in our third year.” She paused, certain that she had forgotten something. “Oh! And the Hungarian Horntail, obviously.”

Tonks rolled her eyes. “Obviously.”

“No. No way.” Thomasina shook her head. “You’re pulling my wand. You never took on a Hungarian Horntail.”

“I did.”

“She did,” Badeea nodded. “Not alone, though.”

“No, I did have help. For pretty much all of it, actually.”

Thomasina looked impressed. Impressed and curious.

“The other rumour that went around,” she said, her voice a conspiratorial sort of whisper, “was that Professor Rakepick” - Artemis tensed at the mention of the name - “killed that girl Rowan Khanna as a sort of sacrifice.”

The atmosphere at the table had suddenly become as tense as Artemis herself. She blinked, barely even noticing the look that Badeea and Tonks shared from either side of her.

“So?” Thomasina continued, apparently oblivious to the others’ discomfort. “Is that just a rumour, or is that true, too?”

It took a great deal of effort for Artemis to swallow and speak one single word:

“True.”

“But why would she do that?”

“Um, well,” Badeea cleared her throat quietly as Tonks glared at Thomasina, “she knew about the Vaults, and she knew that they couldn’t all be opened unless the person trying to open them lost someone they cared about. The person they cared most about.”

Finally, Thomasina fell quiet for all of ten seconds, her eyes fixed on Artemis. The intensity of her gaze made Artemis uncomfortable, and she looked around the room for an excuse to leave the table before Thomasina could continue the conversation further, and failed to find one.

Unable to give a reason to leave, Artemis decided to throw her manners to the wind. She got up from her seat without saying a word, not even taking her coat with her, and walked away from the others. Once she was out of their sight, she Apparated out to the ice cold street above the Ministry, where the city smog hung in the air like a shroud.

Friday came around all too quickly, with Artemis yet to have come up with any potential Triwizard Challenges, aside from a half-baked idea that she and Tonks had cooked up the night before involving competitors racing to catch a Golden Snitch whilst being chased by a horde of Cornish Pixies. In the cold light of day, however, that seemed a far less plausible suggestion than it had the previous evening when she had just drunk half a bottle of wine.

The one advantage to her failure at being creative was that there would be less chance of Badeea’s labyrinth being overshadowed. Badeea had shown Artemis three separate designs she had come up with for mazes that could be created on the grounds of Hogwarts school, each one of them so intricate and complex that it had made Artemis’ head reel to look at them, and made it pound heavily as she remembered them this morning. If that wasn’t enough to impress Mr Crouch, then nothing would be.

She was the last member of Bagman’s team to arrive for the meeting other than Ludo Bagman himself, who arrived five minutes late looking even more worse for wear than Artemis felt. Mr Crouch gave him a withering look before turning to address the rest of the room.

“Very well, then. Best and brightest brains in the country. Let’s hear your ideas,” he said. No one moved to respond, and he sighed loudly. “Come on. Someone speak up.”

Artemis was surprised to see that the first person to do so was Thomasina Thistlethwaite, though she raised her hand timidly first and waited for Mr Crouch to nod at her impatiently before speaking.

“I had a few ideas,” she told him. “So, the winner of the tournament gets the Triwizard Cup, right? Well, I thought that we could make the Cup part of the challenge, hide it and make the contestants race to find it.”

“Hide it where, exactly?”

“In the middle of a maze,” was Thomasina’s response.

Artemis frowned. The maze had been Badeea’s idea. Of course, it might have been that Badeea had decided to collaborate with Thomasina on the plans, but judging by the look on Badeea’s face, she was just as surprised as Artemis was to hear Thomasina’s words.

“Not just a regular maze, either,” Thomasina continued. “We can make it harder by putting in lots of obstacles that the contestants have to get past to reach the centre.”

“Such as?”

“Spell-defences and creatures. Boggarts, Red Caps, maybe even an Acromantula or a Sphinx!”

Artemis’ eyebrows furrowed even deeper. That list of obstacles sounded familiar. Too familiar. Badeea looked across at her, clearly thinking the exact same thing.

“My, what a finale that would be,” said Ludo Bagman. “See, Barty? Best and brightest.”

“Yes, that is a very good idea,” Mr Crouch inclined his head. “Very good work, Miss…”

“Thistlethwaite. I had an idea for another challenge, too.”

“Did you?”

Thomasina nodded. “Yes. I thought that it would be good to make use of the Black Lake. Get the champions to go down into the lake to retrieve a treasure from the merpeople.”

Hardly able to believe what she was hearing, Artemis’ lips parted. She tried to make eye contact with Thomasina, but she was too busy discussing ‘her’ ideas with Bagman and Crouch to pay any attention to Artemis.

“What sort of treasure?” Mr Crouch was saying.

“It would have to be something of value to the champions,” replied Bagman. “No risk, no reward, after all.”

“People,” Thomasina suggested. “They should have to try and save people.”

“People?”

“Yes. One person for each of the champions. The person each of them cares about the most.”

Artemis stiffened, her body completely still and silent other than her pulse pounding in her ears. As her shock gave way to anger, she clenched her fists under the table and dug her fingernails into her palms to stop herself from losing her temper in front of everyone. In the corner of her eye, she could see a small amount of smoke start to unfurl into the air as one of her colleagues’ parchments began to singe around the edges.

Neither Bagman nor Crouch noticed Artemis’ quietly simmering anger or the slowly burning parchment, however, as they were now discussing the one remaining challenge.

Of course, Thomasina claimed to have yet another novel idea.

“Let me guess,” said Badeea, the steely look in her eyes not matching the polite smile she wore on her face. “Is it a Hungarian Horntail?”

Thomasina did not look ashamed in the slightest, neither by Badeea’s subtle accusation, nor by the nervous titters that echoed around the table under the sound of Ludo Bagman’s booming guffaw.

“Now, Miss Ali,” he said jovially. “We can’t get ahead of ourselves. We don’t want anyone getting burned, do we?”

Artemis narrowed her eyes and glowered at Thomasina, before being as surprised as everyone else to hear her own voice, as two completely unbidden words escaped from her lips:

“Don’t we?”

#artemis hexley #hpff #hphm fic #harry potter fanfiction #hphm #nymphadora tonks #badeea ali #ludo bagman #Barty crouch #goblet of fire #prisoner of azkaban #triwizard tournament #hogwarts mystery

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notanothersongaboutlovebracket · 2 years ago

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youtube

#tournament poll #ludo #heather dale #notanothersongaboutlovebracket #Youtube

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appcurators · 6 months ago

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Creating an Engaging User Experience in Real Money Games

In the highly competitive world of real money games, creating an engaging user experience (UX) is crucial for attracting and retaining players. The success of a real money gaming platform hinges not only on its ability to offer substantial rewards but also on how enjoyable and seamless the user experience is. Here, we explore key strategies for developing an engaging UX in real money games.

Intuitive User Interface (UI)

An intuitive user interface is the foundation of a great user experience. Players should be able to navigate the game effortlessly, understanding the mechanics without needing extensive instructions. This can be achieved through clear and simple design elements, logical layouts, and consistent visual cues. Buttons should be easily accessible and clearly labeled, while essential information like balance, bets, and winnings should be prominently displayed.

Visual and Audio Aesthetics

The visual and audio aesthetics of a game significantly influence user engagement. High-quality graphics, vibrant colors, and smooth animations can create an immersive environment that captivates players. Additionally, sound effects and background music should enhance the gaming experience without being overwhelming or distracting. The right combination of visual and auditory elements can make the game more enjoyable and keep players coming back.

Personalization

Personalization is a powerful tool in enhancing user experience. By allowing players to customize their avatars, game themes, or betting preferences, you create a sense of ownership and individuality. Advanced personalization can also include tailored game recommendations based on a player’s past behavior, increasing the likelihood of engagement.

Seamless Onboarding

A seamless onboarding process ensures that new players can start enjoying the game with minimal friction. This involves a straightforward registration process, clear instructions on how to play, and introductory bonuses to incentivize first-time players. Providing a tutorial or a demo version of the game can help players familiarize themselves with the mechanics without risking real money.

Engagement Features

Engagement features such as leaderboards, achievements, and social sharing options can significantly boost user involvement. Leaderboards create a competitive environment, encouraging players to improve their performance to climb the ranks. Achievements provide goals and milestones for players to strive for, adding an extra layer of motivation. Social sharing options allow players to share their accomplishments with friends, fostering a community around the game.

Regular Updates and Content

Keeping the game fresh with regular updates and new content is essential for maintaining long-term engagement. This can include new game modes, special events, seasonal themes, and limited-time offers. Regularly updating the game not only keeps it interesting for existing players but also attracts new players who are looking for the latest features and improvements.

Responsive Customer Support

Responsive and helpful customer support is vital for ensuring a positive user experience. Players should have access to multiple channels for support, such as live chat, email, and phone. Quick resolution of issues and clear communication can build trust and loyalty among players, making them more likely to continue playing and recommend the game to others.

Secure and Transparent Transactions

In real money games, the security and transparency of financial transactions are paramount. Players need to feel confident that their money is safe and that the game operates fairly. Implementing robust security measures, offering a variety of trusted payment options, and providing clear information about fees and payouts can enhance players' trust and satisfaction.

Conclusion

Creating an engaging user experience in real money games requires a holistic approach that combines intuitive design, high-quality visuals and audio, personalization, seamless onboarding, engaging features, regular updates, responsive customer support, and secure transactions. By prioritizing these elements, developers can build a platform that not only attracts players but also keeps them engaged and coming back for more.

#Fantasy Sports App Development Company #Fantasy Cricket App Development #eSports Tournament App #Ludo Game Development Company #Real Ludo earning app #Real Money Gaming Apps #real money game development company #real money game development services

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ludomin · 8 months ago

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Dive into the Thrilling World of Online Ludo Tournaments!

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#online ludo tournament

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italian-lit-tournament · 4 days ago

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Italian literature tournament - Third round.

Propaganda in support of the authors is accepted, you can write it both in the tag if reblog the poll (explaining maybe that is propaganda and you want to see posted) or in the comments. Every few days it will be recollected and posted here under the cut.

First, propaganda for Ludovico Ariosto, then for Guido Cavalcanti. The quantity of material will be colossal, so just scroll down for more.

For the Ludovico Ariosto stans:

by @larmegliamori

The opposing party has brought on the big guns, I see: us Ariosto girlies, gays and they must bare our teeth and ambitions.

So, here's my two cent on why you should vote Ludovico Ariosto!

Extreme relatability: Deeply entrenched into the politics of his time (as the firstborn of ten children, of which one was disabled and other five were women), but at the same time just wanting to stay home to live of his poetry? Dare I say iconic. Perfect representation of us literature kids.

He actually managed to marry his muse, Alessandra Benucci, and did it respectfully!

Working various jobs for patron(s) he didn't particularly like? Been there, done that, got the t-shirt.

Not to mention his most widely known work, the poem "Orlando Furioso" (The rage of Roland), has all the goos stuff us modern audiences would like! It features:

A wide, diverse cast, spanning from Ireland to India, stretching probably to the (by then) newly discovered Americas;

Fantasy elements: faeries, sorcerers, giants, orcs, the first modern iteration of the hippogryph and even a fantastical voyage to the Moon!

Citations and references galore: from Virgil to Ovid, from old chansons de geste to Boccaccio!

Proto-feminism and gender studies: Ariosto's female characters, although often very feminine, are actively involved in their story arcs. The poem also features two warrior women, Bradamante and Marfisa, the former of which is the protagonist of her own subplot. Said subplot heavily relies on gender, may it be appearances or not. And let's not forget the famous tirade at beginning of the fifth canto, where the author berates femicide! If you're willing to open your heart to his writing, Ludovico Ariosto reveals himself to be a compelling, layered, modern author, and yet there's a levity to his writing that works like a balm. Vote for Ludovico Ariosto (even if only for the memes)!

I'd also like to add that Ariosto's Orlando Furioso, in the 70s, got a theatrical AND television adaptation that was too campy for its own good.

It featured, amongst other things:

- 1500s inspired costuming (it sure was... A choice but I'm not complaining)

- Mechanic horses (that literally ran on rails) and hippogryph:

- Olympia of Holland, one of the most tragic characters in all the poem, as a vamp (slay):

(Posing with Orlando/Roland in on the left, with her lover Bireno on the right)

- Astolfo literally ENTERING INTO A HOLE TO GET TO THE MOON:

The television adaptation was partly shot in the famous Baths of Caracalla, in Rome. If you want to witness this masterpiece yourself, it's on YouTube! In two parts.

Remember to always stan Zio Ludo, and vote for him! ✨

Hello everyone! For today's Ariosto Propaganda Piece, I'd like to talk about the Satire.

Those seven pieces written in terzina dantesca (because our boy Ludo knew how to pick his role models) are an interesting insight about early 1500s society and Ariosto's character and private life. They all start from an actual event in his life and enlarge towards society as a whole, often with a critical eye towards it.

The first one, destined to his brother Alessandro and a friend, starts these absolutely iconic lines:

[Quick translation: Ruggiero, if you make me so ungrateful in the eyes of your descendants, and it bears me no advantage to have sung your worth and your mighty deeds, why should I stay here, since I don't know how to cut huns on a fork, nor how to hunt games with hawks or dogs?]

A bit of context: Ariosto's first patron, bishop Ippolito d'Este, had to move from Italy to Hungary and wanted all his court to follow him. Ariosto refused because of health and family matters, and he was threatened with the loss of all the benefits he had previously granted him. Note that Ariosto was basically a kind of personal secretary to Ippolito, carrying out different important missions for him, and even risked his life a couple times to carry them out. So it's understandable he feels disappointed at his patron's reaction... and that's why, in this more "private" writings, he complains with Ippolito's ancestor, the hero Ruggiero he had extensively wrote about in his main poem.

Honestly, a genius move. Not something you see often in poetry, is it? Another reason why you need to vote for this man ;)

For the Guido Cavalcanti stans:

Propaganda in favor of Guido Cavalcanti by @eresia-catara

May I add further propaganda for Guido: He's a noble, he disdains aristocrats, he was Florence's number one Server of Cunt, he was the city's faggot, he was heretical, he went on a random pilgrimage but interrupted it and managed to be buried in a church anyway, he had an archenemy who sent some men to murder him on said pilgrimage, he came back and tried to murder him back in plain daylight, he gave zero fucks about politics, he got exiled because he was considered a menace for the city. He SAW DANTE's poetical talent, encouraged it, shaped it, and through him the whole of italian literature. Think about it. Also they became besties until they evolved to a tormented psychosexual haunting dynamic (see break-up poem) where Dante himself actually exiled him. In the 13th century his poetry anticipates so many of the literary themes of the XXth century, going from fragmentation of the self (his is basically vivisection and dispersion of his parts), to dissociation from one's own mind and body, lack of identity, irony, desecration, his poetry is full of schizophrenic-like hallucinations, reading them is truly a trip, and yet his language is profoundly meoldic and sweet. And there's also gender-fuckery. and theater, of course, because his poems develop like a scene from a theater (adding layers to the dissociation). So really he has it all guys.

The thing is, Ariosto feels very contemporary but Guido is the og relativist and unreliable narrator. His poetry offers NO truth whatsoever you only have a sequence of schizophrenic hallucinations and what he describes only seems like it's real but who knows, the narrator is dead, how can he even speak or if he's alive he's not because he has dissociated himself from his body and is only coldly contemplating his own murder. He's not reliable because he has lost his reason, his soul has crubled into pieces and each piece has fled his body. Also he hears voices, and feels a sadistic presence in his mind in the form of a woman watching him die. This man was too ahead of his time, he was too dramatic, too eccentric, but also too acute and sensible, he must have looked deranged and we love him for it. and deserves to be voted!

Guido Cavalcanti propaganda by @girldante

GUIDO CAVALCANTI PROPAGANDA ABBIAMO:

LA DISSOCIAZIONE SCHIZOFRENICA:

IL COMICO, IL SIMPATICO BURLONE, IL MEMATORE ANTE LITTERAM:

IL MACABRO, IL GORE, I SINTOMI™

IL BREAKUP TOSSICO PASSIVO AGGRESSIVO CON DANTE

in conclusione

you can find my old propaganda here, but listen, while i do respect zio ludo's rizz, a vote for guido cavalcanti is a vote for gender roles reversal, death-life liminality, medieval atheism, antisocial freaks obsessed with philosphy who imagine their pens are talking to people about their owner's suffering (what is wrong with him), eye carving enjoyers (what the FUCK is wrong with him), sons who are sacrifical lambs, people who have long swinging necks like geese (allegedly???), and gay breakups involving dante alighieri. and also, well, I don't recall ariosto wearing a miku binder. twice.

in conclusion

Guido Cavalcanti propaganda by @apis-vergilii

Here’s my Guido propaganda: @girldante and @eresia-catara have already covered the poetry reasons, and I’m here to get metatextual about the whole thing.

Simply put, this is the Weird Niche Hellsite, and Guido is the Weird Niche Hellcandidate.

We live in an era of the cynical enshittification of the internet. In a sickened sea of dying social platforms, AI slop, and every last pixel being for sale, THIS is still the webbed site where a bunch of strangers can rediscover a lesser-known medieval poet in all his angsty, gothy glory, abandon all pretense of ironic detachment or mature indifference and go absolutely apeshit over his life and work, breathlessly and deliriously creating everything from exhaustively researched essays with footnotes, to anime fan art and inexplicable photoshops. This is the place where Goncharov happened. This is the place where we stole the president’s shoelaces. This is the place where a heretical medieval Tuscan stilnovista got himself a full-on Fandom, and we are all so much the better/worse for it.

So vote for the spirit of the old internet in all its dorky glory. Vote for the joy of learning things for fun and not for school. Vote for the bizarre Florentine emo goth. A vote for Guido Cavalcanti…is a vote for all of us.

if all else fails to convince you, well, i don't recall ariosto having an historical fantasy saga centered around him where he gains clairvoyance and gets increasingly more and more manipulated by the manifestation of his generational trauma. also he gets out of his body to have epic fights with spiritual creatures.

this should be a testimony to how his cuntserving echoed through time

Propaganda by @girldante and @eresia-catara that I guess should be read together:

well. seeing as we're on topic. Was Ariosto ever described as having

les bras d'Hercule avec des mains de nymphe by a 19th century french story? It is not made up guys, he served androgynous cunt so hard it didn't go unnoticed. Guido simply suggests fluidity.

Like. Arms like Hercules and hands like a nymph.

And Lorenzo il Magnifico also Fangirled over him in a letter to the Federico of Aragon

he (Lorenzo il Magnifico!!) was simply begging him to read his poems, and that's because they are absolutely eatable in all their irreverent, elegant, goth glory.

Finally, Boccaccio wrote about him in his Decameron (VI,9) and, truly, can you say no to him:

this little ballerina? look at how sad he looks!

would you look at that! Guido Cavalcanti propaganda is publicly sponsored by thee Lorenzo De' Medici himself!!!

as for the last bit, Boccaccio's novella from Decameron, where Guido calls out a bunch of idiots through a riddle that said idiots will take a bunch of time to understand and then proceeds to abandon them jumping over a grave, was cited by thee Italo Calvino in his Lezioni Americane as an example of his conception of lightness, as in the ability to lift oneself over the heaviness of the world.

In conclusion: Guido Cavalcanti is literally your fave's fave.

#Ludovico Ariosto #Guido Cavalcanti #IIT - third round

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hollowed-theory-hall · 8 months ago

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Justice for Barty Crouch Jr: Part 1/2

(Part 2)

This is a bit of a weird theory, and I'll confess, some of the evidence is not all that conclusive. But I didn't see anyone mention anything about this anywhere else...

When I reread the books recently, I noticed I really liked Mad-Eye Moody in Goblet of Fire. Moody in the fourth book is actually one of my favorite characters, he makes the top 10. But then I reached Order of the Phoenix and realized (again) that I hate Moody's guts.

The only conclusion I could draw was that I really liked Barty Crouch Jr. because, Moody in book 4, wasn't really Moody. So, I went back to Goblet of Fire to try and find out who Barty is, how his behavior as Moody, differed from the real deal in the later books, and why I liked him when I didn't like the real Moody.

And let's just say, I came to some interesting conclusions...

This post ended up being pretty long, so I've divided it up into two. But my thesis is:

Barty was a Death eater, but he didn't torture the Longbottoms.

He didn't want Harry to be hurt during the Tornoment and actually cared about him.

And I can prove it!

Reasons for Doubt

When reviewing all the scenes of Barty Jr, it was made clear pretty quickly that Barty wasn't really trying to fool anyone. Actually, he seemed to be actively sabotaging himself.

“Maybe someone’s hoping Potter is going to die for it,” said Moody, with the merest trace of a growl. An extremely tense silence followed these words. Ludo Bagman, who was looking very anxious indeed, bounced nervously up and down on his feet and said, “Moody, old man ... what a thing to say!” “We all know Professor Moody considers the morning wasted if he hasn’t discovered six plots to murder him before lunchtime,” said Karkaroff loudly. “Apparently he is now teaching his students to fear assassination too. An odd quality in a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Dumbledore, but no doubt you had your reasons.”

(Goblet of Fire, page 279)

From the very beginning, Barty is outright telling everyone what happened. And exactly how:

“Because they hoodwinked a very powerful magical object!” said Moody. “It would have needed an exceptionally strong Confundus Charm to bamboozle that goblet into forgetting that only three schools compete in the tournament. ... I’m guessing they submitted Potter’s name under a fourth school, to make sure he was the only one in his category. ...” “You seem to have given this a great deal of thought, Moody,” said Karkaroff coldly, “and a very ingenious theory it is — though of course, I heard you recently got it into your head that one of your birthday presents contained a cunningly disguised basilisk egg, and smashed it to pieces before realizing it was a carriage clock. So you’ll understand if we don’t take you entirely seriously. ...”

(Goblet of Fire, pages 279-280)

He goes as far as to explain how he got Harry into the tournament. To the point even Karkaroff thinks it's strange Moody would bother putting so much thought into it. And he's right, it is super strange.

Barty shouldn't be explaining that to the people he is supposedly trying to deceive. It's so incredibly revealing and counterproductive. And it's not that Barty is stupid, he shows he is both intelligent and competent to a degree it's clear that if he really wanted to not be discovered he wouldn't be (he transfigured his father's corpse to a bone and buried it in the forest when he didn't wish to be found out, clearly, he can get away with murder when he wants to). So why all of this? Why try so hard to tell them exactly what's going on? Why is he showing his hand?

It won't be out of character for Moody to not mention all of it. He could not go into as much detail easily. But, he chooses to go into detail about the very method he used to get Harry chosen for the tournament. Like he's trying to get himself caught.

“So . . . whoever conjured the Dark Mark . . .” said Hermione slowly, “were they doing it to show support for the Death Eaters, or to scare them away?” “Your guess is as good as ours, Hermione,” said Mr. Weasley. “But I’ll tell you this . . . it was only the Death Eaters who ever knew how to conjure it. I’d be very surprised if the person who did it hadn’t been a Death Eater once, even if they’re not now. . . .

(Goblet of Fire, page 143)

This is an earlier note from Hermione, and I agree with her 100%. The goal of Barty when casting the Dark Mark isn't clear. We know he is a marked Death Eater, but so are Regulus and Snape. We know not all Death Eaters agreed with everything they did, and some of them had regrets. And it's kind of interesting this idea that Barty cast the Dark Mark to scare the attackers off was planted this early in the book.

“What — what are you doing?” said Professor McGonagall, her eyes following the bouncing ferret’s progress through the air. “Teaching,” said Moody. “Teach — Moody, is that a student?” shrieked Professor McGonagall, the books spilling out of her arms. “Yep,” said Moody.

(Goblet of Fire, page 206)

I wanted to add this scene just because of the "yep" as his response to McGonagall, but this entire conversation, actually is noteworthy. Why? Well, the mannerism.

Moody whom we meet in book 5 and onwards doesn't speak or act like this. The mannerisms and speech patterns we see in this conversation are 100% Barty Crouch Jr. And this isn't the only scene in which his own mannerisms peek through because he isn't putting much effort into his act.

Here are some examples of how Moody talks in book 5, for comparison:

“Well, congratulations,” said Moody, still glaring at Ron with his normal eye, “authority figures always attract trouble, but I suppose Dumbledore thinks you can withstand most major jinxes or he wouldn’t have appointed you. . . .”

(Order of the Pheonix, page 169)

“Yeah, well,” said Moody, “there’s something funny about the Potter kid, we all know that.” “Dumbledore seemed worried about Harry when I spoke to him this morning,” whispered Mrs. Weasley. “ ’Course he’s worried,” growled Moody. “The boy’s seeing things from inside You-Know-Who’s snake. . . . Obviously, Potter doesn’t realize what that means, but if You-Know-Who’s possessing him —”

(Order of the Pheonix, page 491)

He's more gruff, more blunt, more paranoid. He isn't as gentle with Harry and Ron as Barty was (I'll showcase some of these moments later). And he shows full faith in Dumbledore's decisions. Something, Barty doesn't do even when pretending to be Moody.

Some Background

I want to talk about Barty's trial and Azkaban sentence for a bit, along with his relationship with his father as it explains a lot about him as a character...

and a boy in his late teens, who looked nothing short of petrified. He was shivering, his straw-colored hair all over his face, his freckled skin milk-white. The wispy little witch beside Crouch began to rock backward and forward in her seat, whimpering into her handkerchief. Crouch stood up. He looked down upon the four in front of him, and there was pure hatred in his face. “You have been brought here before the Council of Magical Law,” he said clearly, “so that we may pass judgment on you, for a crime so heinous —” “Father,” said the boy with the straw-colored hair. “Father . . . please . . .” “— that we have rarely heard the like of it within this court,” said Crouch, speaking more loudly, drowning out his son’s voice. “We have heard the evidence against you. The four of you stand accused of capturing an Auror — Frank Longbottom — and subjecting him to the Cruciatus Curse, believing him to have knowledge of the present whereabouts of your exiled master, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named —” “Father, I didn’t!” shrieked the boy in chains below. “I didn’t, I swear it, Father, don’t send me back to the dementors —”

(Goblet of Fire, page 594)

Does this look like a hardened Death Eater who was happy to torture the Longbottoms and proud to serve his lord?

No, this is a terrified nineteen-year-old kid who was caught in the wrong place at the wrong time with the wrong people.

Barty continues and calls:

“Mother!” screamed the boy below, and the wispy little witch beside Crouch began to sob, rocking backward and forward. “Mother, stop him, Mother, I didn’t do it, it wasn’t me!”

...

“No! Mother, no! I didn’t do it, I didn’t do it, I didn’t know! Don’t send me there, don’t let him!”

(Goblet of Fire, page 595)

Barty calls this as Bellatrix and the Lestranges are completely calm, taking credit for torturing the Longbottoms. Shouting at Crouch Sr, that Voldemort would return. Barty isn't doing that, he isn't the fanatic Death Eaters, he's a scared boy:

But the boy was trying to fight off the dementors, even though Harry could see their cold, draining power starting to affect him. The crowd was jeering, some of them on their feet, as the woman swept out of the dungeon, and the boy continued to struggle. “I’m your son!” he screamed up at Crouch. “I’m your son!” “You are no son of mine!” bellowed Mr. Crouch, his eyes bulging suddenly. “I have no son!” The wispy witch beside him gave a great gasp and slumped in her seat. She had fainted. Crouch appeared not to have noticed. “Take them away!” Crouch roared at the dementors, spit flying from his mouth. “Take them away, and may they rot there!” “Father! Father, I wasn’t involved! No! No! Father, please!”

(Goblet of Fire, page 596)

Barty keeps swearing he wasn't involved and that he didn't do it. that it wasn't him. Compared to how calm the three Lestranges are — it's clear something's up.

I think Barty is telling the truth here. I think he really didn't torture the Longbottoms.

Barty was still acting as a scared boy, just like in his trial, even in front of only dementors and Death Eaters, when there was no need to act. He is described by Sirius when he arrived in Azkaban:

I saw the dementors bringing him in, watched them through the bars in my cell door. He can’t have been more than nineteen. They took him into a cell near mine. He was screaming for his mother by nightfall. He went quiet after a few days, though . . . they all went quiet in the end . . . except when they shrieked in their sleep. . . .

(Goblet of Fire, page 528)

Barty was young and scared and kept to the same behavior even with no audience to convince — which means it wasn't a lie. It wasn't an act. He really didn't do it.

Sirius talks a little bit about Braty's childhood, his relationship with Crouch Sr and the events leading up to his trial:

“Crouch’s own son was caught with a group of Death Eaters who’d managed to talk their way out of Azkaban. Apparently they were trying to find Voldemort and return him to power.”

...

“Nasty little shock for old Barty, I’d imagine. Should have spent a bit more time at home with his family, shouldn’t he? Ought to have left the office early once in a while . . . gotten to know his own son.” He began to wolf down large pieces of bread. “Was his son a Death Eater?” said Harry. “No idea,” said Sirius, still stuffing down bread. “I was in Azkaban myself when he was brought in. This is mostly stuff I’ve found out since I got out. The boy was definitely caught in the company of people I’d bet my life were Death Eaters — but he might have been in the wrong place at the wrong time, just like the house-elf.”

...

“...Crouch’s fatherly affection stretched just far enough to give his son a trial, and by all accounts, it wasn’t much more than an excuse for Crouch to show how much he hated the boy . . . then he sent him straight to Azkaban.”

(Goblet of Fire, page 528)

Barty, at the time of his trial and sentence, wasn't even for sure a Death Eater. He wasn't actually caught doing anything, he was caught with Death Eaters who escaped an Azkaban sentence, which means Death Eaters other than the Lestranges. This means he wasn't even caught on the scene of the Longbottoms torture, but somewhere else and unrelated. It proves even more that Barty was innocent regarding the torture of Frank and Alice.

We know he was a Death Eater because he could cast the Dark Mark. But, I think he wasn't involved in torturing the Longbottoms or anyone, for that matter. I don't think he had it in him before Azkaban and years of torment by his father.

The other thing of note is Crouch's treatment of his son. He was an absent father, caring more for his ministry position than his family. And we see later in GoF that Barty despises his father. I think he disliked him even before being kept under the imperious curse for years. I think that's what pushed Barty to become a Death Eater, it was something to spite his father. To create a distance between them.

His murder of his father during GoF is probably the only murder he wanted a part of. Actually, his father is the only person we know he killed. He didn't get the chance to kill the real Moody, and he never killed anyone else.

Once the boy [Barty Jr] had died, people started feeling a bit more sympathetic toward the son and started asking how a nice young lad from a good family had gone so badly astray. The conclusion was that his father never cared much for him

(Goblet of Fire, page 529)

More from Sirius that strengthens my former point. Barty joined the Death Eaters, in large to go against his father.

This vendetta against his father is the main reason I believe Barty chooses this plan to aid Voldemort. Well, there are some other reasons, but using the tournament is a good way for him to mess with his father's reputation. That same reputation that was more important to him than his own son.

As a Teacher and Mentor

A lot of fans like to say Remus Lupin was the best DADA teacher Harry had, I'd actually argue it was Moody (aka Barty). I'm saying that because Barty-as-Moody was the one who taught Harry many of the techniques and approaches he keeps going back to in the books.

The constant vigilance that saves him multiple times is from Barty, not the real Moody.

His resistance to the imperious curse.

When Harry quotes Moody in his head under certain situations for the advice he was given, it's not advice from the real Moody but from Barty:

He raised the cup to his lips and then, just as suddenly, lowered it. One of the horrible painted kittens behind Umbridge had great round blue eyes just like Mad-Eye Moody’s magical one, and it had just occurred to Harry what Mad-Eye would say if he ever heard that Harry had drunk anything offered by a known enemy

(Order of the Phoenix, page 630)

This above quote is based on Barty's advice in GoF, not the real Moody.

Barty made Harry think of becoming an auror. He was the one who convinced him he could become one:

“You ever thought of a career as an Auror, Potter?” “No,” said Harry, taken aback. “You want to consider it,” said Moody, nodding and looking at Harry thoughtfully. “Yes, indeed . . . and incidentally . . . I’m guessing you weren’t just taking that egg for a walk tonight?” “Er — no,” said Harry, grinning. “I’ve been working out the clue.” Moody winked at him, his magical eye going haywire again. “Nothing like a nighttime stroll to give you ideas, Potter. . . . See you in the morning. . . .”

(Goblet of Fire, pages 477-478)

Barty did more for Harry's self-esteem than any other teacher.

“Now, that’s more like it!” growled Moody’s voice, and suddenly, Harry felt the empty, echoing feeling in his head disappear. He remembered exactly what was happening, and the pain in his knees seemed to double. “Look at that, you lot ... Potter fought! He fought it, and he damn near beat it! We’ll try that again, Potter, and the rest of you, pay attention — watch his eyes, that’s where you see it — very good, Potter, very good indeed! They’ll have trouble controlling you!”

(Goblet of Fire, page 232)

In the above scene, Barty is delighted by Harry's resistance of the imperious. He is so proud and fond. I already mentioned and will continue showing how Barty did very little acting when he pretended to be Moody, as such, I don't think he's pretending here either. I think he actually is delighted.

And, I mean, think about it, why would a servant loyal to Voldemort teach Harry Potter how to resist the imperius? Why would he keep practicing with him throughout the year to make sure he was good at it? Why make sure Harry knows people would want to control him and he should make it hard for them?

The only conclusion I can come to is that he is trying to help Harry from a limited position. Why and How will be discussed later.

Neville was standing alone, halfway up the passage, staring at the stone wall opposite him with the same horrified, wide-eyed look he had worn when Moody had demonstrated the Cruciatus Curse. “Neville?” Hermione said gently. “Neville, what — ?” But an odd clunking noise sounded behind them, and they turned to see Professor Moody limping toward them. All four of them fell silent, watching him apprehensively, but when he spoke, it was in a much lower and gentler growl than they had yet heard. “It’s all right, sonny,” he said to Neville. “Why don’t you come up to my office? Come on . . . we can have a cup of tea. ...” Neville looked even more frightened at the prospect of tea with Moody. He neither moved nor spoke. Moody turned his magical eye upon Harry. “You all right, are you, Potter?” “Yes,” said Harry, almost defiantly. Moody’s blue eye quivered slightly in its socket as it surveyed Harry. Then he said, “You’ve got to know. It seems harsh, maybe, but you’ve got to know. No point pretending ... well ... come on, Longbottom, I’ve got some books that might interest you.”

(Goblet of Fire, page 219)

And he wasn't only the best DADA teacher for Harry, he was the best teacher for Neville too. He actually helped the son of the Longbottoms he was sent to Azkaban for torturing.

Just, he is the only adult attempting to build up Neville's confidence in himself and his abilities. He encourages Neville's love of Herbology and doesn't ridicule him like most other adults in Neville's life.

Also in the above quote, he clearly wants to tell Harry more. "but you’ve got to know", he says. He is trying to prepare Harry for what's to come. Why would he do that if he wants him dead?

As a Defender of Harry

To continue off Barty actually steps up to defend Harry a lot throughout the book. Even at times, he won't necessarily have to. I mean, the real Moody was never this protective of Harry. Sure, he kept him safe, but he didn't really care for Harry's feelings and self-esteem. Barty did.

“Yeah, that’s Harry Potter,” said a growling voice from behind them. Professor Karkaroff spun around. Mad-Eye Moody was standing there, leaning heavily on his staff, his magical eye glaring unblinkingly at the Durmstrang headmaster. The color drained from Karkaroff’s face as Harry watched. A terrible look of mingled fury and fear came over him

(Goblet of Fire, page 258)

He's scaring Karkaroff and the Durmstrang students away from Harry. The moment before this quote had the Durmstrang students and Karkaroff noticing Harry for the first time as they were leaving the Great Hall on the day they arrived at Hogwarts. They all freeze and stare at Harry, knowing his story and probably about to ask him questions, it's not like Karkaroff would've done anything in the Great Hall. But Moody (Barty) steps in to fend off Harry's discomfort! Hes not even in actual physical danger! Just discomfort!

Harry hesitated. He’d been afraid of this — but he hadn’t told Cedric, and he certainly wasn’t going to tell Moody, that Hagrid had broken the rules. “It’s all right,” said Moody, sitting down and stretching out his wooden leg with a groan. “Cheating’s a traditional part of the Tri-wizard Tournament and always has been.” “I didn’t cheat,” said Harry sharply. “It was — a sort of accident that I found out.” Moody grinned. “I wasn’t accusing you, laddie. I’ve been telling Dumbledore from the start, he can be as high-minded as he likes, but you can bet old Karkaroff and Maxime won’t be. They’ll have told their champions everything they can. They want to win. They want to beat Dumbledore. They’d like to prove he’s only human.”

(Goblet of Fire, pages 343-344)

Moody is glad Harry knows about the dragons, and that could be explained by wanting him to win so he could get to the graveyard (that plan had so many problems in it that I'll get to later) but that isn't the only thing he reveals here. He calls out Dumbledore and his attitude. He shows his dislike towards Dumbledore and his moral flexibility regarding cheating - two things the real Moody will never say. And he would definitely not phrase them like this. This whole conversation — that's all Barty.

Barty, who is actually encouraging Harry and belittling Dumbledore.

That sentence about proving Dumbledore's human, I think Barty shares that feeling. He agrees with the other headmasters on that. Even if he hates Karkaroff's guts.

Because he actually does hate all the Death Eaters that got away genuinely, but not for the same reasons as, let's say, Bellatrix. Bellatrix dislikes them for their lack of loyalty to their lord; Barty hates them out of envy.

Barty was sent to Azkaban for his mark even if he never tortured or killed anyone. And these other Death Eaters, ones he might know killed or tortured, got out scott-free. He was fought alongside them and still sent to the dementors instead of being let go. And he is bitter.

Also, important to remember, that a year in Azkaban and then twelve years under the Imperius curse didn't leave him unscathed. He is not mentally or emotionally well or anything close to it when we meet him in the books.

“Well, I’m not going to tell you,” said Moody gruffly. “I don’t show favoritism, me. I’m just going to give you some good, general advice. And the first bit is — play to your strengths.” “I haven’t got any,” said Harry, before he could stop himself. “Excuse me,” growled Moody, “you’ve got strengths if I say you’ve got them. Think now. What are you best at?”

(Goblet of Fire, page 344)

I love this scene. Like, this is the first ever time an adult with authority, a teacher, tells Harry how great he is. I talked about the fact Harry is clever and magically powerful but has really low self-esteem. And Barty actually argues with him. Bart (as Moody) makes him believe he could become something. That he has things he is good at.

One of this book's antagonists is the first person to tell Harry he has strengths. That's just all levels of messed up.

It shows Barty Crouch Jr actually does more for Harry's emotional well-being than any other professor he had. More than McGonagall, more than Lupin. Actually, the only adult who tries to help Harry with more care than Barty, is Sirius Black, Harry's godfather. It's just insane that Barty, a Death Eater, actually understood Harry and went out of his way to help with his insecurities and make him comfortable more than Molly Weasley did.

Now, let's talk about the Farret Incident because it's interesting too. both regarding his defense of Harry and his hatred of the Death Eaters that got away.

“I don’t think so!” roared Moody, pointing his wand at the ferret again — it flew ten feet into the air, fell with a smack to the floor, and then bounced upward once more. “I don’t like people who attack when their opponent’s back’s turned,” growled Moody as the ferret bounced higher and higher, squealing in pain. “Stinking, cowardly, scummy thing to do. ...”

(Goblet of Fire, page 205)

Barty steps in to defend Harry because he does it a lot. It's why I placed this moment in this section. One would expect someone who wants Harry to die to not mind if he was cursed a bit, it's not like Draco was about to kill him, but no, he defends him even when no one sees him there.

But specifically in this incident, I want to mention how personal he gets about this. Barty's disdain towards the Death Eaters that escaped Azkaban is very real and very dangerous to Draco. He's furious they didn't need to spend a year in hell on earth only to then be enslaved by a curse for 12 years by their father who kept them like a dirty secret in the basement.

As I mentioned above, I don't think Barty is mentally sound, but I think he genuinely cares about Harry and didn't torture the Longbottoms.

In the next post, I go through the final scene of Barty in the book, and explain the whole plan Barty had.

Part 2 >>

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t1oui · 11 months ago

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i had another fic idea. (bear with me, it's a long one. read it after the cut.)

percy weasley was always the black sheep of the weasley family - the outcast, the nerd, the one who didn't quite click. so when he was sorted into slytherin, not gryffindor, it wasn't really a surprise.

the weasleys couldn't believe it, though, could they? percy was the smart one. the kid arthur and molly could brag about, the older brother fred and george could prank. slytherin was different. slytherin was a statement.

percy loved it.

for once in his life, percy was away from siblings, parents, and expectations. he was going to forge his own path, and they wouldn't have any hand in it - and that's why he was there, wasn't it? his ambitions, bigger than his family could ever imagine.

percy was still a good student, don't get me wrong. he studied hard and got good marks, and he befriended penelope clearwater, a ravenclaw who valued schoolwork even more than he did. percy was still a good student, still analytical and logical, but not nearly as uptight as his family remembered him. his parents watched as he smiled over letters with his new friends the summer after his first year, and the twins were surprised to see how often he laughed the summer after his second. when they joined him for his third year, their first, they couldn't help but grudgingly respect the easygoing, confident manor of the boy at the slytherin table.

by his fifth year, percy was fairly popular in his house. nobody made fun of him for being made prefect; instead, they congratulated him. as percy waited for his youngest brother to get sorted, he sat beside marcus flint, the two of them making small bets on which houses they thought the first years would be placed into.

neither of them put harry potter in slytherin. neither of them knew what to say when the sorting hat announced the boy who lived was a snake, and neither of them said anything as they accepted oliver wood's distant apologetic smile at the outrage of the gryffindors. harry was supposed to be theirs.

but percy knew that silence, that outrage, that surprise. the discomfort that came with expectations not being followed. so, really, waving harry over to sit beside him wasn't a difficult decision.

in harry's second year, as people spread rumors about him being the heir of slytherin, percy and marcus and oliver and penny and even cedric and cho, third and fourth years themselves, were always there to defend him. their youngest ally, their youngest friend, percy's brother. the boy who respected him, looked up to him, when his own family didn't.

ron and ginny were gryffindors, but harry was a slytherin. harry walked the halls with blaise zabini, draco malfoy, and pansy parkinson, but he also walked them with percy weasley and marcus flint.

as percy grew, watching the odd happenings that surrounded his brother, he learned not to assume the best. he never had, really, but now he knew more than ever how dangerous optimism could be. percy did not go straight into the ministry, still riding the high of being head boy. instead, he spent long evenings eating takeout in oliver's dingy london flat and meeting up with penelope and marcus to discuss books. (oliver said he would've joined their book club, really, but with puddlemere, he was far too busy, and none of them faulted him for it.)

when percy was 18, he was surprised to find tickets to the 1994 quidditch world cup in his mailbox, but he agreed to attend with his family. he received two tickets and chose to bring marcus, letting oliver use his second ticket for penelope. when death eaters arrived, the four of them stayed back to help usher people into the forest. they didn't show their faces, and even then, as he shared a look with marcus at the sight of the dark mark above their heads, percy knew what he had to do.

at the triwizard tournament, percy - now an employee of ludo bagman - found himself sitting with harry potter once again, watching him and cedric (who was already much bigger than the last time percy had seen him) compete. he saw the way harry watched cedric and cho at the yule ball and couldn't help smiling, knowing what it was and going to send oliver an owl about it as soon as he could. he's growing up, percy had scrawled, unable to contain his happiness.

when percy weasley was 19 years old, still a mere child, he didn't walk out on his family for the ministry. he didn't make his mother cry, and he didn't call harry potter a liar. he didn't deflect and forge papers for muggleborns, didn't get them to safe houses. when percy weasley was 19, he and marcus hugged oliver and penelope goodbye before leaving to take the mark, hoping that their sacrifice would be enough.

just like he had in his few months with the ministry, percy quickly rose voldemort's ranks. he smiled as he spoke of getting revenge on blood traitors like his own family, and he laughed when voldemort killed muggles before him, and he gained the dark lord's trust like no other. he sat around a table with severus snape and watched as his former head of house studied him, not realizing how similar the two of them really were.

percy did not forge papers or lead those in need to safe houses, but he didn't have to. that was oliver and penny's job, and he knew enough to know that they were doing it well. he couldn't send letters, but he could send a patronus, and when he learned of cho chang joining the order the second she was of age, he sent one offering his congratulations and telling her to stay strong. not like you aren't already, he'd said. she'd come a long way from the excited little girl who annoyed penny with talks of quidditch.

percy celebrated his 21st birthday with marcus flint and a silvery stag, curled up beside him with the promise of a reunion in the near future.

percy weasley was 21 when he arrived at hogwarts for a battle he pretended to be on the wrong side of. he kept his hood up and his mask in place, and he squeezed marcus's hand before he broke off into the crowd. he may have looked like one of the bad guys, and he may have acted like one all his life, but what was percy if not unpredictable?

when he found fred behind a crumbling wall barely separating him from three death eaters, he cast a spell. he didn't stop to see who he'd killed in favor of this boy (not his family, not anymore), and he didn't stop to revel in fred's surprise as his older brother's voice spilled from a death eater's mouth and told him to get to safety.

percy weasley did not slow down. percy weasley did not hesitate. percy weasley killed friends and foe - they were often one in the same, nowadays - and he fought until it wasn't his fight anymore. he fought until it was time for him to stand back, holding up a bleeding marcus as he watched his baby brother, the one with green eyes the same color as his tie, face off against the man he'd been reporting to for months.

percy did not cheer when voldemort fell, instead dropping marcus into oliver's arms and running foward to pull the brother he'd almost lost into a long-awaited hug.

"i'm proud of you," he whispered, and he held harry, let him sob into his shoulder, until aurors arrived and threatened to take anyone with a mark on their forearms. harry stood his ground, ready to defend, but he wasn't surprised to find percy gone. he walked back to blaise and pansy and draco, collapsed into their arms and gave a small smile to ron, the boy who'd given him company during the dark months in grimmauld.

percy weasley was tired, far more exhausted and far more mature than someone his age should've been. as he fell asleep in oliver's flat for the first time in years, squished between oliver and marcus on the couch, hands tangled in penny's hair, he couldn't help but smiling at one thought:

he was a better spy than severus snape. he was a war hero.

you can now read part 2, from harry's pov, here!

#harry potter #harry potter fandom #percy weasley #percy weasey centric #slytherin percy weasley #slytherin percy #percy weasley x oliver wood #perciver #penelope clearwater #marcus flint #oliver wood #dark percy weasley #slytherin harry

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riverxsong-ao3 · 6 months ago

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It was pandemonium on the Quidditch Pitch: Cedric Diggory had appeared at the front of the maze, his face white with terror and clutching the Triwizard Cup tightly in his hand. The crowd erupted in triumph, his fellow Hufflepuffs storming down from the stands to join their champion on the field, while Ludo Bagman declared him the winner of the Triwizard Tournament, though he sounded oddly disappointed with this result. Tom would have been disappointed too, if not for the numb horror spreading through him, his connection to Harry now distant and foggy, as though they were separated by a great, vast distance.

“Well, it’s a bit of a letdown,” Sirius was saying, his voice cutting through the panicked buzzing in Tom’s mind. “I thought for sure Harry would win – but we’ll see him in a few minutes.” He frowned, noting at last the look of horror on Tom’s face. “You alright, Tom?”

“Something’s wrong!” Tom exclaimed, casting a quick Muffliato so that only Sirius could hear him – not that it mattered over the roar of the crowd. “It’s Harry. I can’t feel him in my mind. I don’t know where he is!”

“What?!” Sirius yelped. “That’s a thing you can do? Never mind, explain that later – what’s happened?”

“I don’t know!” Tom cried. “That’s the whole problem! I don’t know how, but he’s been – taken!”

“Let’s get down to the pitch,” Sirius decided, seizing his arm. “I’m sure they’ll notice he’s missing soon enough – Dumbledore will be able to find him. It’s going to be fine, Tom.”

It wasn’t going to be fine, Tom realised, as a sharp jolt of panic not his own rushed through him. On the one hand, it meant Harry was still alive. On the other, it meant whatever he was experiencing was terrifying enough that, like Voldemort’s when he was feeling particularly angry or gleeful, Harry’s emotions could make the long journey through their connection to him. It meant that Harry was fearful for his very life.

“Stop!” Tom could hear Diggory’s voice, loud and clear above the din, no doubt amplified via Sonorus. “Everyone, stop celebrating! It’s Harry, he’s – no, stop! Let go of my hand!”

Tom tore through the crowd, using his considerable height to make himself seen above the heads of the others, making his way to Diggory. “What’s happened?” he shouted. “Diggory, where’s Harry?”

#harry potter #tom riddle #fanfiction #tomarry #harrymort #harry potter fanfiction #vitae redux #fanfic #tomarrymort

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pinkestmenace · 6 months ago

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+1 Strange Encounter With A Friendly Dark Matter! Featuring @zeros-witness Rimuri!

+1 Life Lesson!

Always ready to help, but perhaps a bit too quick to jump to conclusions, Olympea nearly attacked Dark Matter Lord Rimuri to protect the injured stranger! Thankfully they quickly cleared up the confusion and she learned that Rimuri only wanted to heal their companion, who had gotten hurt on the way to this strange tournament she keeps hearing about.

How and why they ended up playing Ludo afterwards? Who knows.

(Heeheehee, it's a bit late for propaganda, but at least I finished it before the poll ended. Unless some miracle turnaround happens today it looks like you and Rimuri are winning this round anyway. That's fine though! As for the drawing — I had a lot of difficulty figuring out their crown crystals. I'm pretty happy with how it turned out in the end. I hope I did them justice! ...And don't worry about Keigo the Pet Rock. It just wanted to join the fun and inspect these strange new people. Very closely.)

@kirbyoctournament belated propaganda, but I'm turning it in anyway.

Masterpost

#Olympea #Olympea HoY #Olympea's quest #zeros-witness #Rimuri #King Doo #Captain Doo #Keigo the Pet Rock #my art #my comic #kirby oc #kirby oc tournament #ibispaint #my drawing

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gentle-giant-swag · 2 years ago

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SECOND CHANCE/ONE WAY TRIP ON JOSEPH AIRLINES ROUND 2 GROUP 2

CAPTAINS WORDS: I want to revive the fandoms back to life so they can fight over silly trolls :3

#gentle giant swag #tumblr tournament #tumblr poll #fandom poll #one way trip on joseph airlines #gentle giant swag: second chance #david bowie labyrinth #labyrinth movie #ludo labyrinth #tales of arcadia #aaarrrgghh troll hunters #trollhunters

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braveclementine · 7 months ago

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Chapter 14

Warnings: None. However, future chapters will contain sexual content so readers that are under the age of 18 may have to skip those chapters (However they are very few so those under the age of 18 can still read a majority of this book. However please keep note of the warnings).

Copyright: I do not own any Wizarding World characters that J.K. Rowling wrote. I do however own Elizabeth Kane (main character) and Trang Nyguen (best friend). There should be no use of these two names without my permission. I also do not condone any copying of this.

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𝕾𝖔, 𝖕𝖊𝖗𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖘 𝕴 overreacted a bit.

For the remainder of Christmas break I stayed in the Hufflepuff Common room. I only left to sneak down to the kitchens late at night to get food or get up early early in the morning for breakfast.

I was hungry most of the time, but I wasn't going to dare to show my face- at least not when Professor Snape might be around. I missed Harry, Ron, and Hermione. I missed the forest and I missed Firenze but there was no way I was leaving the safety of the dorm. Every day I put off was another day to give Professor Snape time to forget what I'd said.

I finished all my homework and when I was done with that, I read and re-read all the books I'd gotten for Christmas and of course, IT.

Susan was the only one who asked me why I wasn't leaving the dorm. I don't think anyone else really noticed. I just said I was feeling tired often and didn't want to move much. I think she was concerned about me not eating though. I wasn't- Trang had sent candy from America for Christmas and I had my hot fudge cakes from Mrs. Weasley. Besides, I didn't notice hunger when I was reading or sleeping.

I had, against my better judgement, drawn some scenes from that night. I had drawn Professor Snape and I dancing- mostly because I wanted to remember it one day. I had also drawn Harry and Parvati, Ron and Padma, Cedric and Cho, and Hermione and Krum.

When I woke up on the first day of second term, I summoned up my courage and, packing my books, made my way down the stairs to the Great Hall. I sat with Hermione, Ron, and Harry, carefully keeping my back to the teachers' tables. Perhaps it was my imagination, but I couldn't help but think there were eyes on me.

I ate two helpings of food. Meanwhile, Hermione, Ron, and Harry filled me in on what had happened- after asking where'd I'd been. They then preceded to tell me about the conversation between Hagrid and Madam Maxime.

"I already knew that." I said shrugging, "Foresaw it." I shoveled eggs in my mouth. Hermione looked a bit worried about my appetite. Harry and Ron got up to go to Care of Magical Creatures and she held my arm so keep me back for a second. I'd been about to tear off to Divination.

"What happened after the Yule Ball?" She asked quietly.

"Nothing." I muttered, looking at the floor.

"Well you must've done something, no one's seen you for two weeks except the Hufflepuff girls. Have you even eaten in two weeks?"

"Of course I have!" I said a bit defensively.

Hermione shrugged, but I knew she wasn't letting it go, she just wanted to get to Care of Magical Creatures class quickly. I'm sure she'd bombard me about it again soon.

I hurried to Divination, glad that no one else was going to look at the situation to closely. But perhaps Hermione was right. Locking myself in a room for two weeks might not have been the best way to handle it.

But then again, I was quite dramatic.

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𝕴 𝖈𝖆𝖒𝖊 𝖉𝖔𝖜𝖓 to lunch feeling apprehensive. To my luck (which meant it was bad), I had potions after lunch and I was feeling very sick.

Harry and Ron looked extremely angry when they sat down and Harry tossed me a paper he was holding. It was the Daily Prophet. "Read that." Harry snapped.

DUMBLEDORE'S GIANT MISTAKE Albus Dumbledore, eccentric Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, has never been afraid to make controversial staff appointments, writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent. In September of this year, he hired Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody, the notoriously jinx-happy ex-Auror, to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, a decision that cause many raised eyebrows at the Ministry of Magic, given Moody's well-known habit of attacking anybody who makes a sudden movement in his presence. Mad-Eye Moody, however, looks responsible and kindly when set beside the part- human Dumbledore employs to teach Care of Magical Creatures. Rubeus Hagrid, who admits to being expelled from Hogwarts in his third year, has enjoyed the position of gamekeeper at the school ever since, a job secure for him by Dumbledore. Last year, however, Hagrid used his mysterious influence over the headmaster to secure the additional post of Care of Magical Creatures teacher, over the heads of many better-qualified candidates. An alarmingly large and ferocious-looking man, Hagrid has been using his newfound authority to terrify students in his care with a succession of horrific creatures. While Dumbledore turns a blind eye, Hagrid has maimed several pupils during a series of lessons that many admit to being "very frightening." "I was attacked by a hippogriff, and my friend Vincent Crabbe got a bad bite off a flobberworm," says Draco Malfoy, a fourth-year student. "We all hate Hagrid, but we're just too scared to say anything." Hagrid has no intention of ceasing his campaign of intimidation, however. In conversation with a Daily Prophet reporter last month, he admitted breeding creatures he has dubbed "Blast-Ended Skrewts," highly dangerous crosses between manticores and fire-crabs. The creation of new breeds of magical creature is, of course, an activity usually closely observed by the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Hagrid, however, considers himself to be above such petty restrictions. "I was just having some fun," he says, before hastily changing the subject. As if this were not enough, the Daily Prophet has now unearthed evidence that Hagrid is not- as he has always pretended- a pure-blood wizard. He is not, in fact, even pure human. His mother, we can exclusively reveal, is none other than the giantess Fridwulfa, whose whereabouts are currently unknown. Bloodthirsty and brutal, the giants brought themselves to the point of extinction by warring amongst themselves during the last century. The handful that remained joined the ranks of He- Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and were responsible for some of the worst mass Muggle killings of his reign of terror. While many of the giants who served He-Who- Must-Not-Be-Named were killed by Aurors working against the Dark Side, Fridwulfa was not among them. It is possible she escaped to one of the giant communities still existing in foreign mountain ranges. If his antics during Care of Magical Creatures lessons are any guide, however, Fridwulfa's son appears to have inherited her brutal nature. In a bizarre twist, Hagrid is reputed to have developed a close friendship with the boy who brought around You-Know-Who's fall from power- thereby driving Hagrid's own mother, like the rest of You-Know-Who's supporters, into hiding. Perhaps Harry Potter is unaware of the un- pleasant truth about his large friend- but Albus Dumbledore surely has a duty to ensure that Harry Potter, along with his fellow students, is warned about the dangers of associating with part-giants.

I stared blankly at the last sentence and then looked over at where Draco was sitting with the other Slytherins and I made to get up but Hermione held my arm. "Must you always act so dramatically?" Hermione asked.

Yes, I thought.

"We've got to go see him." Harry muttered, putting beef casserole on his plate. "This evening after Divination. Tell him we want him back. . . you do want him back?" He shot at Hermione.

Hermione blushed and said, "I- well, I'm not going to pretend it didn't make a nice change, having a proper Care of Magical Creatures lesson for once- but I do want Hagrid back, of course I do!" she said, quickly changing her tune at Harry's glare. He looked at me.

I shrugged, "He won't answer the door- if he's even in the cabin when you go."

Harry still decided that he was going to go after dinner anyways. I shrugged again, dreading potions. Maybe I could keep turning back the hour so I never had to go. But I decided that I was going to have to face him eventually.

I was nearly late to class and took my customary seat, staring down at the wooden table as though it was the most interesting thing I'd ever seen. Did you know you could find patterns in wood just like in clouds?

He addressed the class normally and I focused completely on my potion, blocking him out. The one time that I looked up at him, he had his back to me and I breathed a little easier.

I finished my potion before the bell rang and was packed and ready to go by the time the bell rang. I dashed from the classroom and headed to the Great Hall for dinner. I went down to the cabins with the other three and, as predicted, Hagrid never answered the door.

Over the next week, we didn't see Hagrid and part of me had to agree with Hermione as Professor Grubbly-Plank went over lessons with unicorns. I had, of course, seen unicorns before in the Forbidden Forest. But it was different, seeing them like this. Sadder, in a way, in a pen instead of free. I had half a mind to open the gate and let it run away. I wondered if I'd get a bad grade.

There was a Hogsmeade visit halfway through January and Harry wanted to go. We had left the castle in our cloaks when I looked over at the Durmstrang ship. Viktor emerged onto the deck dressed in only swimming trunks. He dived into the lake.

"He's mad!" Harry cried, "It must be freezing, it's January!"

I looked on with interest as Krum continued to swim in the water, "I should really try that out."

"It's a lot colder where he comes from. I suppose it feels quite warm to him." Hermione said reasonably.

"Yeah, but there's still the giant squid." Ron said, sounding hopeful.

Hermione and I both frowned, "He's really nice, you know. He's not at all like you'd think, coming from Durmstrang. He likes it much better here, he told me." Hermione said.

"He told me the same thing on the first day here." I said. "And he certainly isn't anything like how they portray the Durmstrang's to be. Karkaroff wasn't happy at all that he invited you to the dance, you know. Durmstrang has a very high anti-Muggle policy."

Ron kept quiet. I scanned the streets for Hagrid but didn't seem him. Harry suggested we go into the Three Broomsticks and we agreed, eager to get out of the cold. We went up to the bar and ordered four butterbeers. Madam Rosmerta peered very curiously at me- probably trying to figure out what made me so special to the teachers back up to the school. Meanwhile, I stared at the decorations hanging around until she handed us our drinks.

"Doesn't he ever go into the office?" Hermione whispered, "Look."

She pointed into the mirror behind the bar and we looked into the reflection where I saw Ludo conversing with three goblins. The goblins looked menacing, their arms crossed across their chest. He seemed stressed too.

Then, he looked up and saw us and quickly came over to us. "Harry! How are you? Been hoping to run into you! Everything going all right?"

"Fine, thanks." Harry said.

"Wonder if I could have a quick, private word, Harry? You couldn't give us a moment, you two, could you? I also need a word with you Elizabeth, if you'd wait just over to the side."

"Er-okay." Ron and I said together. Ron and Hermione headed to find a table and I took a few steps back, leaning against the wall.

Madam Rosmerta kept glancing over at me and finally, I looked over at her and said, "You know, if you have something to ask me, you can ask. I don't bite." and I gave her a warm smile. She seemed a bit relieved.

"I was just wondering if you were the Elizabeth Kane I've heard quite a bit about." she said, filling up a cup.

"I am." I verified. "I know I've been talked about in this bar too. Last year, Fudge, you, Flitwick, Hagrid, and McGonagall."

Instead of looking abashed, she looked amazed and curious, "Your foresaw that did you?"

"Parts of it." I admitted, "But I was actually just sitting at a nearby table when the conversation took place."

"Hagrid talks about you a lot and your Professors will end up talking about you if prodded." Madam Rosmerta said, still sounding a bit awed for some reason, before walking out of the bar with her drinks. She set off for a table nearby to serve the drinks.

I thought about her words. I wondered if Professor Snape would talk about me if he was asked about me. Then I remembered I was trying not to think about him and I quickly set my eyes on Ludo and Harry. They seemed to wrapping up their conversation. Harry walked off a few seconds later and Bagman approached me.

"So Elizabeth! I was just wondering-"

"You're betting wrong." I finished for him, taking a sip of my drink.

He looked guilty, dropping his voice, and said quietly but urgently, "I'm in trouble."

"I know."

We stared at each other for a moment and then I sighed. I was to nice. "If you bet that Harry and Cedric tie the competition, I think you have a higher chance of winning your gold back."

"But there can't be a tie!" Ludo said, frowning.

I shrugged, "I'm telling you what my gut feeling is. But it'll be either Cedric or Harry or both and as for now, my gut says both. Now, you need to talk to the Weasley twins too and just come clear. Alright, I'm going to go find my friends now. Take care."

I walked away, leaving him there are the bar. Fred and George were eyeing Ludo and me with vivid interest and I smiled at them as I passed by. Fred seemed like he wanted to talk but I wasn't really in the mood.

". . . for Crouch, according to Bagman. He's still ill. Hasn't been into work." Harry was saying.

"Maybe Percy's poisoning him. Probably thinks if Crouch snuffs it he'll be made head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation." Ron said.

"Funny, goblins looking for Mr. Crouch. . . They'd normally deal with the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical creatures." Hermione said, frowning.

"Crouch can speak loads of different languages, though, Maybe they need an interpreter. What did Bagman want with you, Elizabeth?" Harry asked.

I rolled my eyes. "He's having money troubles. Wanted to know a future bet."

Hermione scoffed.

"Uh oh." Ron said, staring up at the door.

I look up briefly and felt my annoyance leave, replaced by anger. She was wearing yellow robes and her nails were hot pink. She was talking very fast to her photographer. I gritted my teeth.

". . . didn't seem very keen to talk to us, did he, Bozo? Now, why would that be, do you think? And what's he doing with a pack of goblins in tow, anyway? Showing them the sights. . . what nonsense. . . he was always a bad liar. Reckon something's up? Think we should do a bit of digging? 'Disgraced Ex-Head of Magical Games and Sports, Ludo Bagman. . .' Snappy start to a sentence, Bozo- we just need to find a story to fit it-"

"Trying to ruin someone else's life?" Harry asked loudly and my eyes jumped to him.

"Harry! How lovely! Why don't you come and join-"

"I wouldn't come near with a ten-foot broomstick. What did you do that to Hagrid for, eh?" Harry said furiously.

People were getting quieter in the bar. If I wasn't so angry, I think I might've been properly embarrassed.

"Our readers have a right to the truth, Harry. I am merely doing my-"

"Who cares if he's half-giant?" I asked scathingly. "No one who actually knows him sees him as any of the ways that you portrayed him in the article."

"There's nothing wrong with him." Harry assented. The entire pub was silent. Madam Rosmerta was still filling a full cup of beer. It was about to overflow.

Rita pulled out her Quick Quotes Quill. My wand hand twitched- I wanted to set the thing on fire. "How about giving me an interview about the Hagrid you know, Harry? The man behind the muscles? Your unlikely friendship and the reasons behind it. Would you call him a father substitute?"

"Oh, shut up." I snapped suddenly. The father thing was a touchy subject for me.

"You horrible woman." Hermione said furiously, standing up. "You don't care, do you, anything for a story, and anyone will do, won't they? Even Ludo Bagman-"

"Sit down, you silly girl, and don't talk about things you don't understand. I know things about Ludo Bagman that would make your hair curl. . . not that it needs it-" Rita eyed Hermione's hair, her eyes narrowing.

"You mean the trial?" I asked lightly. "Pretty sure they never had evidence in the first place and he got off without a single charge so it's a moot point, isn't it?"

"Let's go." Hermione said. "C'mon Harry, Ron, Elizabeth."

They got up and followed her but I stayed where I was a second longer and then walked out. As I passed Rita Skeeter I whispered, "I know your future, you know. Let's just say you've got some hard times coming. You're just a little bug with zero skills." I looked up at her, smiling wickedly, and walked out of the pub. She didn't look intimidated.

Hermione, Harry, and Ron were already halfway down the street and I ran to catch up with them.

". . . don't read the Daily Prophet. She can't scare me into hiding!" Hermione was saying, striding so fast the others were running to keep up with her. I matched her pace. "And Hagrid isn't hiding anymore! He should never have let that excuse for a human being upset him! Come on!"

She broke into a run and we ran after her. The curtains were still closed in the cabin and Fang barked as we approached.

"Hagrid!" I shouted. "Let us in!"

"Hagrid! Hagrid, that's enough! We know you're in there! Nobody cares if your mum was a giantess, Hagrid! You can't let that foul Skeeter woman do this to you! Hagrid, get out here, you're just being-" Hermione said, pounding on the door in intervals.

The door opened and Hermione cried out, "About t-" before realizing that it was Dumbledore who had opened the door.

"Good afternoon." He said pleasantly, smiling down at all of us. I smiled back.

"We- er- we wanted to see Hagrid." Hermione said in a small voice.

"Yes, I surmised as much. Why don't you come in?" Dumbledore asked.

"Oh. . . um. . . okay." Hermione said while I smiled wider.

Hagrid was sitting at the table. There were two large mugs of tea on the table. His face was blotchy and his eyes were swollen . His hair was all tangled and a complete mess.

"Hi Hagrid." Harry said.

Hagrid looked up. "'Lo" he said in a bit of a hoarse voice.

I went over and put my arms around him.

"More tea, I think." Dumbledore said and raising his wand, a revolving tea tray appeared with a plate of cakes. Ron eyed the plate hungrily. There was a slight pause and then Dumbledore asked, "Did you by any chance hear what Miss Granger was shouting, Hagrid?" I giggled as Hermione went pink. "Hermione, Harry, Ron, and Elizabeth still seem to want to know you, judging by the way they were attempting to break down the door."

"Of course we still want to know you!" Harry said, staring at Hagrid.

I laughed. "you don't think anything that Skeeter cow wrote really means anything to anyone, do you?" I asked. "Pardon my French Professor, I'm a bit angry with her."

"Understandable." Professor Dumbledore said, sounding extremely amused.

"Hagrid, how could you think we'd care what that- woman- wrote about you?" Harry asked more civilly.

"Living proof of what I've been telling you, Hagrid. I have shown you the letters from the countless parents who remember you from their own days here, telling me in no uncertain terms that if I sacked you, they would have something to say about it-"

"Not all of 'em. Not all of 'em want me ter stay." Hagrid said hoarsely.

"Hagrid, you've known this already." I said, trying not to sound exasperated. "None of the Slytherins want you to stay. But that's never stopped you from teaching us Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws, and Gryffindors! Come on now!"

"Not a week has passed since I became headmaster of this school where I haven't had at leas tone owl complaining about the way I run it. But what should I do? Barricade myself in my study and refuse to talk to anybody?" Dumbledore asked.

Unable to help myself I asked, "Are all the letters from Lucius Malfoy?"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled and said, "A large majority."

"Yeh- yeh're not half-giant!" Hagrid said.

"Hagrid, look what I've got for relatives. Look at the Dursleys!" Harry said furiously but I wasn't sure what it had to do with anything.

"Look at my dad." I said softly.

"An excellent point." Dumbledore said. "My own brother, Aberforth, was prosecuted for practicing inappropriate charms on a goat. It was all over the papers, but did Aberforth hide? No, he did not! He held his head high and went about his business as usual! Of course, I'm not entirely sure he can read, so that may not have been bravery. . ."

I giggled.

"Come back and teach, Hagrid. Please come back, we really miss you." Hermione pleaded.

"I refused to accept your resignation, Hagrid, and I expect you back at work on Monday. You will join me for breakfast at eight-thirty in the Great Hall. No excuses. Good afternoon to you a-" At that moment, an owl flew and tapped on Hagrid's window. I opened it up and a tired Sadie came into the cabin.

"Thanks girl." I said, taking the letter from Sadie, seeing that it was from Trang, and opened it up right there. As I read it, the blood drained from my face.

"Elizabeth?" Dumbledore asked in mild concern.

"It's nothing." I said bitterly as I read over and over about how Trang's mother had written to Trang asking if she could ask me how my dad was because he'd been all over town trying to find a job- unsuccessfully. "Just be glad you're not a werewolf Hagrid." I angrily stuffed the letter in my pocket.

"Your dad's having a hard time finding work?" Hermione asked.

Dumbledore observed me with a serene look, a look that I couldn't read.

I nodded, jaw clenched. "I'm used to it, of course- but he told me he had a job and we said we weren't going to lie to each other. I know he doesn't want me to worry but still." I ran a hand through my hair. "I'll see you in class Tuesday Hagrid. I need to go write some letters. Bye Professor."

I left the cabin and strode up the hills. I went up to the Owlery, pulling Trang's letter out of my pocket again.

Dear Elizabeth, Thank you for the Christmas present of course. I found the peppermint imps to be absolutely fascinating. (I nearly burned the small shed we- that is to say my American host family- have in the backyard down). However, my mum has been writing to me quite frequently, asking me if I've heard anything about your dad from you. I guess she said he's been going around town looking for jobs. Apparently he's staying home a lot so I guess he didn't get a job? I don't know, you haven't talked about him a lot. I can't very well tell mum that werewolves have a hard time getting a job and I know you probably didn't want to mention it to me. I know our families are very different when it comes to money. If you want, I can help out- I know you mentioned he wouldn't take money from your vault. I'm sorry for bringing this up and hopefully it gets cleared up. Maybe by the time my letter gets there he'll have had a job and this letter won't mean anything. Or maybe mums' wrong and he's always had a job. Anyways, you don't really have to let me know, of course. Your dad is your business. But I just wanted to let you know mums' worried about him. Keep in touch, Love, Trang

I put my face in my hands, laying the letter down on the ground. I didn't cry but I felt horrible. Then, I pulled out a piece of parchment and tried to figure out what I was going to write.

Dear Dad, I just got a letter from Trang. Apparently her mum wrote her to ask me if you're okay because according to her, you're having a difficult time getting a job. I know you don't want me to worry, but I can't help it, and if she's right and you don't have a job, I don't appreciate the lie. We said we weren't going to lie to each other. I'm sending money with this letter. I'd rather you just suck it up and use it then starve or whatever you're doing to save money. I love you and forgive me for calling you a liar if you do have a job.

Also, can you send me information on Barty Crouch? Just like about his life and work? I think it might be important.

Love,

Elizabeth

I rolled it up and headed down the stairs and went back to the Hufflepuff common room to get some of my Galleons. I put seventy-five in a bag and then went back up to the Owlery. I used a weight reduction spell. Sadie was up for a trip by this time and I told her it was for dad. She held out her leg and I attached the letter and money and she flew away.

I trooped back down the stairs and went to dinner.

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𝕳𝖆𝖌𝖗𝖎𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖚𝖊𝖉 𝕻𝖗𝖔𝖋𝖊𝖘𝖘𝖔𝖗 Grubbly-planks' lesson book and had baby unicorns- called foals. They were pure gold. They were lovely and a majority of the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff girls dissolved into squeals at the sight of them. Again, I had the strangest urge to open the gate and let them go out into the forest.

In Charms, I sat at a back table with Harry, Ron, and Hermione. He told us about how he'd taken the egg down to the bathroom and the memorized poem that he'd heard which went like this:

Come seek us where our voices sound we cannot sing above the ground, and while you're searching, ponder this: We've taken what you'll sorely miss, An hour long you'll have to look And to recover what we took, But past an hour- the prospect's black, Too late, it's gone, it won't come back.

"That's why Krum was jumping into the lake." I said. "He must've been practicing for the tournament."

"Anyways." Harry said quickly with a look at Ron's face. "When I was coming back, I er, fell on the trick stair and dropped the egg and the Marauders map." He then proceeded to tell us about Snape and Filch and Moody. Mostly the conversation between Moody and Snape.

"Snape said Moody's searched his office as well? What. . . d'you reckon Moody's here to keep an eye on Snape as well as Karkaroff?" Ron whispered, trying to banish his cushion. It did fly across the room, knocking Parvati's hat off her head, but did not land in the box he was supposed to be aiming at.

I'd already banished all four of my cushions to the box. "Of course not." I scoffed.

"Well, I dunno if that's what Dumbledore asked him to do, but he's definitely doing it. Moody said Dumbledore only lets Snape stay here because he's giving him a second chance or something..." Harry said, trying to banish his cushion but it only flopped on the desk.

"What? Harry. . . maybe Moody thinks Snape put your name in the Goblet of Fire!" Ron said, his next cushion bounced off the chandelier and landed on Flitwick's' desk.

I scoffed again. "Of course not."

"We thought Snape was trying to kill Harry before and it turned out he was saving Harry's life, remember?" Hermione asked. "I don't care what Moody says. Dumbledore's not stupid. He was right to trust Hagrid and Professor Lupin, even though loads of people wouldn't have given them jobs, so why shouldn't he be right about Snape, even if Snape's a bit-"

"Evil?" Ron asked. "Come on Hermione, why are all these Dark wizard catchers searching his office then?"

"Why has Mr. Crouch been pretending to be ill?" Hermione said, changing the subject. "It's a bit funny, isn't it, that he can't manage to come to the Yule Ball, but he can get up here in the middle of the night when he wants to."

I frowned at this phrase of questioning. It was bizarre, wasn't it? And why had I foreseen the conversation but not the robbery? I was sure someone had taken something from Snape's office, but what could it have possibly been? Potion ingredients most likely, but for what?

"You just don't like Crouch because of that elf, Winky." Ron said scathingly.

"You just want to think Snape's up to something." Hermione retorted, sending her cushion into the box.

"I just want to know what Snape did with his first chance, if he's on his second one." Harry said, his cushion following Hermione's into the box.

"Nothing." I said. "It's a matter of opinion and which direction you look at it from. But you'll find out about it anyways so I won't tell."

"Typical Elizabeth answer." Ron snorted as his cushion was banished far away from the box.

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𝕳𝖆𝖗𝖗𝖞, 𝕳𝖊𝖗𝖒𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖊, 𝕽𝖔𝖓, and I searched endlessly in the library for something to help Harry breathe under water.

"You know." I said, slamming a book closed in frustration. "If you could swim on your own and hold your breath for long periods of time, you could just swim along the top. The only problem would be seeing. If you had night-vision or under-water vision, then we might get lucky."

"I can't swim well." Harry said, gritting his teeth.

"I ought to go try it out and see how deep the lake is." I said thoughtfully.

Hermione snorted, "The lake could be miles deep- it's not a pool."

Harry had gotten notes for the restriction section from Professor McGonagall and had asked Madam Pince for specific books on breathing underwater. Nothing helped and we found nothing.

"You know. . ." I said slowly. "Maybe we're looking in the wrong spot." I said a day before the task. I was going to let slip about the plant- Gillyweed, and then Fred and George came around and I shut my mouth.

"What're you two doing here?" Ron asked, looking up at them. Fred and George were never in the library.

"Looking for Hermione and Elizabeth." George said. "McGonagall wants you both in your office."

Hermione and I exchanged brief looks of shock. Well that wasn't supposed to happen. What about Ron? But I shouldn't have been so surprised. My visions had been wonky since day one. I had to stop relying on them.

"Why?" Hermione asked, looking surprised.

"Dunno. . . she was looking a bit grim, though." Fred said.

"We're supposed to take you down to her office." George said.

"We'll meet you in the common room." Hermione said, standing up and I got to my feet too. "Bring as many of these books as you can."

I followed her out of the library, feeling apprehensive. In McGonagall's office was Cho and a little blond girl who looked a bit like Fleur.

"Ah, Miss Granger, Miss Kane." Dumbledore said, smiling at us. Professor McGonagall looked a bit stressed behind him. "Wonderful, all four of you are here."

I was frowning, confused. Why me? Surely Ron would have been chosen in place for Harry.

"Now then." Dumbledore said. "There's nothing to worry about. For the next part of the tournament, each contestant is supposed to rescue you- a hostage like situation. Miss Delacour for Miss Delacour, Miss Chang for Mr. Diggory, Miss Granger for Mr. Krum, and Miss Kane for Mr. Potter. You won't be in any immediate danger and I will be putting you each in a deep sleep. The charm will break when your champion reaches you and your head comes up above water. Are there any questions?"

My hand shot up into the air like we were in class and Dumbledore looked at me. "Sir, I though you were going to use Ron Weasley for Harry."

Dumbledore smiled and said, "I was, but I thought this would be a bit interesting, and there were some hints, of course." Professor McGonagall's mouth grew thinner.

I shrugged. Alright then. Who was I to challenge Dumbledore in the first place anyways?

I wasn't very keen about spending the entire night and half the morning in the lake but since I was going to be asleep anyways, I guess it didn't really matter. Lake water did horrible things to people's hair however. I was going to have to wash it afterwards.

We all walked down to the lake. That was the last thing that I remembered.

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