#Professor Ronen

[yimmy-poo]

THATS RIGHT!!!

It's finally ready!

DOWNLOAD THE GAME HERE!!

(The download for the pc version will take you to dropbox, just so you don't get confused. Just click the download for dropbox to get the pc version of the game)

I HOPE YOU ALL ENJOY!!

[phinik]

His patience was wearing thin😅 Original video

[cursedonyx]

I read the post about students reacting to mc dying in their arms. You should do the professors (including Black)

Thank you for the ask! 💚

Hogwarts Legacy Professors React to MC Dying in Their Arms

Link to student reactions here

⚠️Content warning for Death and Body Horror Below the Cut⚠️

Professor Hecat

Dina Hecat had rarely found herself as impressed with a student as she was with you. Your tenacity, your aptitude for magic, your ability to pick up new and complex defensive magic was unmatched, though Sebastian made a valiant effort to maintain a solid second place behind you. Such was your prowess that Dina thought you might make an excellent Auror, and determined to tutor you privately once you expressed an interest. It was a thrill to begin with, to teach you all the tips and tricks an Auror might need in their arsenal, you picking them all up as if it was as easy as breathing, to the point that Dina grew complacent.

She’d heard tales of your exploits during your fifth year, of course, and fought beside you during the Battle for the Repository. She was confident that you could handle anything thrown at you, and you impressed her over and over and over. But all it took was one tiny misstep, one foot wrong, and all her Ministry training and the reason behind it was thrown into sharp relief.

The troll was supposed to be an easy dispatch. You’d defeated one when you were brand new to magic, after all. Dina had taught you an advanced form of confringo, or at least, she’d taught you the theory. It was a powerful spell, a short step below feindfyre, and she was eager to see it in practice. But the troll had flung its club just as you began the incantation, and everything went wrong. You were distracted as it flew towards Dina, and you lost control of the spell.

The resulting inferno was too much for mere aguamenti, and there was nothing Dina could do but wait for the flames to die down, listening to you scream as you blundered about in the middle of the fire, unable to find a way out. When the smoke cleared, all that was left of you was a charred skeleton, your clawed hand leaving sooty streaks on her skin as she took it, hoping that this was some kind of nightmare, some kind of illusion or hallucination, anything but brutal, cold reality.

There was an investigation, of course. Why was a seventh-year student out fighting trolls? Why was this student doing so under the instruction of a faculty member that should have known better? Why had this professor allowed things to get so out of control?

Dina avoided Azkaban for her neglect by a narrow margin, but she had to give up her teaching post. She passed a little over a year later, having drunk herself to death, unable to cope with the guilt.

Professor Ronen

Abraham Ronen had always had such a love of fun and games, determined to make each of his classes a joy for his students. Yes, he recycled ideas through the terms, a large timetable in his office holding large lists of games he could incorporate that was appropriate for each year of Charms classes. But even so, after several years in his position, he found these games began to grow repetitive, and he wanted to liven things up.

That’s where you came in. Your ingenuity was famous throughout Hogwarts for a reason, and so he called on you one day after class, requesting your assistance in thinking up new games to play. He gave you a list of the spells he was to teach his seventh-year students, promising to waive your homework for a month if you helped out. You took to the task like a kappa to water, assailing Abraham with a variety of ‘games’ that would help the other students learn. The problem was, most of your games involved far too much risk for his liking, including trying to steal a dragon egg. Despite your protestations that you knew where to find one, Abraham wasn’t having it. But he’d promised, and you’d promised, and a deal was a deal.

So extreme were your ideas that when you proposed the still dangerous but comparatively tame idea of delayed-action bombarda combined with glacius, Abraham thought the idea of students running through a booby-trapped field, freezing the latent explosive spells, was a positively marvellous idea.

The students were less keen. They, unexposed to your particular brand of fun, saw the folly in such a practice. But you, determined that everyone should have fun, decided to be the first across the field. Abraham realised far too late just how foolish this game was, and had barely raised his wand as you danced across the minefield before disaster struck, and you were blown apart.

He tried his best to gather the pieces of you that rained down. A severed foot here, a shattered forearm there, holding his robes like an apron and gathering you up. It was futile, of course, for once a witch or wizard’s head is detached from their body, even the very best healers only have a few seconds to make it right.

He could never get that image out of his mind. One moment you were smiling, laughing, joking, teasing the others for their hesitancy, and the next you were in bits, everything that you were tumbling from the sky in slow motion. Every student in that class was scarred for life, set to fail their Charms NEWTs, fifty promising careers suddenly thrown down the toilet. Abraham resigned in shame, and did not go home to his wife. He wandered until he became lost, and lost himself until he found a cliff. Only by shattering himself on the rocks below could he find some form of atonement for his sins.

Professor Sharp

Aesop Sharp had always preferred to be somewhat gruff and stern. It kept his pupils in line, and his firm but fair approach ensured that everyone that took his classes passed with good marks, even if they had a tendency to blow things up, a practice he’d secretly taken to calling “doing a Garreth.” You, on the other hand, slipped past his guard. Maybe it was your incredible aptitude for offensive and defensive magic, or perhaps it was your endearing wit and charm. It could have been your happy-go-lucky nature, your ability to smile no matter how dire things seemed to be, always poking fun at yourself before anyone else. He found himself growing fond of you, thinking of you as some kind of wayward nibling.

He still had to give you detentions on occasion, of course, because even you couldn’t cheek the Potions Master and get away with it, no matter how well-intentioned your words had been. He found such hours to be more of a delight than a chore, happy to talk to you about anything and everything, even laughing a little as you revealed some of the mischief you’d gotten up to, things he’d normally give more detentions for.

One evening in the dungeons, you were cheerfully scrubbing out the cauldrons, and you asked him about is days as an Auror. You told him about an Ashwinder camp you’d caught wind of, and how you wished you could eradicate them. Aesop knew he should report it to Officer Singer and keep you out of it, but hell, he’d seen you fight, and there was something in him that yearned for that spark of excitement that came with defeating his enemies. He suggested travelling with you to wipe them out, considering it worth at least three detentions. You joked that this meant you had two free passes to be cheeky in class, and he told you not to push your luck.

If only he’d known. If only he’d taken a moment to think. If only he’d listened to his Auror instincts that told him this was a bad idea.

You’d both crept up on the camp, wands at the ready. There weren’t many of them, but enough to pose a bit of a challenge. Aesop had every confidence in you, he knew your skills after all, but unfortunately, the Ashwinders did as well. The moment they saw you, they didn’t bother with their typical hexes. They knew enough about you to know they couldn’t waste a second if they wanted to live. Three Killing Curses were sent your way, and one found its mark.

Aesop thought he knew loss when his partner was killed in Scarborough, but this was something else. Watching the light go out of your eyes, the ghost of your last, confident smile on your face, broke him like nothing had broken him before. He didn’t even try to resist when the Ashwinders took him, snatching his wand and throwing him in a cage along with the kneazles they’d poached. He couldn’t get the image of you out of his mind, your still body lying amid the debris of the Forbidden Forest, already ignored and forgotten by your foes, left for whatever scavengers crept through the night to feast. He refused food and water as he was dragged from one end of the country to the other, kept prisoner by those that had killed you. It took weeks to kill him, but one morning, lying on the floor of that cold, hard cage, he just didn’t wake up.

Professor Black

Phineus Nigellus Black preferred to let the students of Hogwarts think he was a cold-hearted, pompous bastard. It was much easier to work this way, easier to make the tough decisions a Headmaster of Hogwarts needed to make. Budget cuts, cancelling quidditch, extending exam season and banning Hogsmeade visits to ensure student safety was easier to weather if his heart was already hardened to the complaints and cries of woe, the bitter mutters, the whispered insults, the playground songs made up to poke fun at him. Yes, it hurt, but he was better than that. Stronger. Prouder. He had a job to do, after all, and Merlin only knew the previous Headmaster had left a hellish mess for him to set right. He had to be hard to be kind. He preferred not to pay attention to those around him, erecting a hard wall around his heart.

You, however… you were different. He heard about what you did in your fifth year, and though he found it hard to believe at first, he paid a bit more attention to you as time went by, and found the tales of your prowess were, if anything, undersold. Phineas made an effort in your final year to take you under his wing, seeing a potential candidate for the position of Minister for Magic in your future. He wanted to teach you the finer points of politics and bootlicking, introduce you to the right people, like the Gaunts, the Blacks, the Malfoys and more to give you the boost you needed to clamber up that slippery ladder. The only gifts he knew how to give.

You were resistant, of course. What kind of firecracker would you be if you weren’t? Phineas relished the challenge, demanding more and more of your free time until you began to understand just what kind of privileges came along with knowing the right people and scratching the right backs. Ominis knew it and used it to his advantage perhaps less than he should have done, but this seemed to tip the scales in Phineas' favour, and you finally began to listen and learn from his wise tutelage. He found himself swelling with pride as you whipped about your newfound allegiances, terrifying students and teachers alike, reining you in when you frightened Hobhouse so much he wet himself, his scolding gentle and warm. He might have had five children, but you showed promise.

Unfortunately, even the shrewd and clever Phineas couldn’t have foreseen the simple dangers of existing in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

He’d taken you to the trophy room, waxing lyrical about the famous witches and wizards that had come through Hogwarts, pointing out their accolades with relish, his hand on your shoulder, a rare and affectionate gesture of genuine pride. He told you that you could achieve just as much, perhaps more, if you applied all your skills and knowledge in the right ways. He even smiled at you, and his eyes were warm.

You asked to see a particularly bright medal on a high shelf, and Phineas, taking a leaf out of your muggleborn book, decided to give the other life a try, just for once. If a muggleborn could be as impressive as you, perhaps he didn’t have to use magic for everything. He tried to reach the medal by hand, even climbing on the shelf to do so, smiling as it made you laugh. He climbed down, medal in hands, his brow furrowing as your face grew ashen. The next moment, you had barrelled into him, throwing him out of the way of the falling shelf.

By the time he picked himself up, scolding you for your behaviour, it was too late. The falling shelves and shattered glass had crushed you, slashing your neck. By the time Phineas realised you weren’t just pratting about like you usually did, you’d bled out, your skin pale, your eyes wide and unseeing. Phineas sat on the floor beside your corpse, holding your fingers closed over the medal that read:

Most Impressive Display of Honour.

Professor Garlick

Mirabel Garlick had endured her share of enamoured students, villagers, and even fellow professors in her time. She dealt with it all with the grace and decorum that was expected of such a sunny personality, treating all and sundry with the same level of ardent attention and big, bright smiles. She had a soft spot for you though, someone who appreciated magical plants for the marvels they were. She didn’t mind when you stayed after class to quiz her on the less known properties of pufferpods or the right way to tamp down earth around a mandrake to ensure maximum comfort. She’d heard all about your little adventure to see the giant venomous tentacula, and had been curious about your knowledge ever since.

She was more than happy to help you grow your plants bigger and better than what the school board advised. She even cleared out Greenhouse Four for your personal use, encouraging you to grow things most students would only ever see if they were extremely unlucky. But she trusted you. She believed you knew what you were doing, swept up by your enthusiasm, tempted by her own curiosity to see just how far you could push your skills.

So it was that the pair of you ended up breeding a new kind of Devil’s Snare, one that was resistant to light and heat. It took time, and though you both occasionally wondered what the purpose of such a plant would be, you were too excited by the prospect of your experiments bearing fruit to worry about consequences. Mirabel should have known better. The only defence against a Devil’s Snare is light and heat, and both of you pushed away thoughts of protection against such a thing. It seemed playful, intelligent, happy.

It was early on a Saturday morning when Mirabel decided to look in on Greenhouse Four. It was only by chance that she had decided to do so, and she would spend the rest of her life wishing she had been five minutes sooner. She saw the Devil’s snare distract you with dancing tendrils as it had so many times before, only this time, you were too close. It wrapped you up faster than a spider wraps a fly, crushing the life from you. No matter how many incendios she cast, no matter how much she shouted and beat at it, even conjuring a torch to hold against the vines, all it did was hurt you more as it crushed the life from you, each snap of your ribs loud above your gasping breaths, the crunch of your spine grinding in her ears, the blood from your nose splattering on the floor as your lungs punctured, your eyes bulging out of their sockets. Even still you fought to draw breath until there was no more room in your chest.

Mirabel had never felt so helpless. She sank to her knees, waiting as the Devil’s Snare took you into its core to feed upon your corpse. She didn’t resist when the vines caressed her face, then wrapped around her throat, her wand lying forgotten on the floor of Greenhouse Four.

Professor Fig

Eleazar Fig had always had a soft spot for you. He’d watched you grow from a novice to a master in the space of a year, popular and clever, beloved by your peers and professors alike. He always made sure to make time for you in his office, sharing a cup of tea as you discussed your past adventures, gossiped about the students, or just had a jolly good chinwag. You both shared a love of adventure, and made time at least once a month to get up to mischief, whether it was investigating old ruins, clearing out mongrel dens, or just running the occasional errand for those in need. You delighted in having your mentor along for the ride, and he adored helping you where he could.

Unfortunately for you, your exploits over the years made you enemies. Though you helped a good many people and made plenty of friends, there were those that were hard done by when you stole from them or caused them trouble on behalf of someone else. Eleazar knew this, and made sure to continually warn you to watch your back, clucking like a mother hen. Perhaps he warned you too much, his words of caution becoming background noise as you continually avoided retribution for your misdeeds. Eleazar did his best to keep you safe all the same, ardently researching your enemies and eliminating plots before they came to fruition.

But after almost a year of no schemes against you, he dared to relax. He invited you out to lunch at Steepley and Sons, intending to enjoy a quiet cup of tea, some nice sandwiches, and perhaps even a slice of cake, his treat, of course. He wanted to catch up properly, to make sure you were happy, on top of your homework, getting on with your friends. You wanted to know how he was coping after Miriam’s passing, if he was back on the scene, how his work as a teacher was going, and can he please get you out of detention with Professor Sharp?

Neither of you expected after all this time there were still those that held a grudge. The young wizard helping Mrs Steepley was actually an Ashwinder, and they poisoned your cup of tea. It took a moment to take effect, but once it did, the only way to save you was locked away in Hogwarts Castle. Even accio couldn’t have got the antidote to you in time.

Eleazar watched as your face went ashen, seemingly sinking in on itself as you clawed at your throat. He caught you as you listed sideways, his eyes locked on yours, trying to comfort you, soothe you as you struggled to draw breath, not even a pin able to pass through the tightness of your throat. Your nails left bloody furrows on your neck, your feet kicking feebly even as someone ran for J Pippin’s, hoping he’d be able to help. Eleazar knew better. He just held you as your body jerked, the last of your life sliding through his fingers as he tried oh so hard to hold on to it, begging you silently to just hold on a little longer. You were all he had, the last spark of joy in his cold, dark life. Once you were gone, there was nothing left for him. A swift unforgivable curse delivered to his temple as he lay in his chamber was enough to ensure he could see you and Miriam again.

witchdoctorpirate ~💚

[ketto-art]

Amit getting a B+?? aintnoway.

comms | prints

[ephemerasnape]

[girl-named-matty]

Some positive vibes for Sunday.

There's been a lot of discussion lately about this fandom so I just wanted to spread some positivity to everyone in the fandom.

Thank you to the people who still post even after a full year in the fandom when you didn't have to.

Thank you to the people who still write fanfictions, headcanons, still take and post screenshots no matter how long it takes, or how much editing or proofreading goes into it.

Thank you to the people who keep posting silly things about Hogwarts legacy.

Thank you to the people who don't get a lot of interaction but still have a lot of good content. I appreciate you very much. :)

Thank you to the people who post about underrated characters.

Thank you to everyone in this fandom that has made it worth while. It's been a bit of a bumpy ride but we're still here! Love you all so much and thank you! ❤️❤️

[accio-bagel]

Some HL professors as text posts

[blue-razzslushie]

I wanted to do this for awhile but it slipped my mind 😭. But since it's pride Month, I present to you. . .

Hogwarts Legacy Sexuality HC's (Including Rory cuz yes)

Students:

Sebastian: Pansexual, lil bro wants affection from everyone. Don't matter who. Your a boy? Girl?! Neither? He don't care tell him he's handsome

Ominis: Bisexual, He leans a bit more towards girls but him and Sebastian have a weird bromance thing going on so there's that

Garreth: Straight Ally, He supports all his friends no matter who they are attracted too. Oh you're gay? Cool, Try this concoction!

Natty: Lesbian, This may just be me projecting onto my favorite characters but I can totally see Natty as a badass lesbian. We love a women's woman who don't take shit

Poppy: Pansexual, She loves everyone regardless of gender. Everyone is hot to her, girls, guys, people in between. . . Merlin they're all so pretty

Amit: Omnisexual, He leans more toward girls but he fancies boys as well. He would just love for someone to share his stars with to be honest

Imelda: Lesbian. Straight up, no projection even needed. You can't look me dead in the eyes and tell me Imelda wouldn't be Lesbian.

Professors (just my favorites):

Professor Fig: Straight Ally, one of the most supportive straight dads you could ever think of deadass. He would wear those "free dad hug" shirts at pride fests if they existed back then

Professor Ronen: Bisexual, He's happily married to his wife but I gotta be honest when I first saw him I thought he had to be a zest fest in some way deadass.

Professor Hecat: Bisexual, She def would lean more towards girls but that's just my vision. We love a Badass Bisexual chat believe you me.

Professor Weasley: Straight Ally, yet another most supportive person you could ever think of. She wouldn't care if you were gay, trans, bisexual. She would love you regardless, and I love her for that

Professor Garlick: Lesbian. 1000%. After that letter she wrote to Sirona and all the mentions of each other they 100% are gay and I am HERE FOR IT.

Professor Sharp: AroAce. Romance? Never heard of it. Only kind of attraction he knows is how Garreth always seems to attract some sort of trouble. I know people mainly HC him as Bi and I'm here for that but I've always seen the man AroAce, He doesn't have time for romance, he has potions to brew and over powered 5th years to keep track of. . .

Rory: Lesbian. They never understood the appeal of men anyway, #1 Man hater besides like. . . A handful they can tolerate. They love women, and only women and they are the most open person about it in the WORLD.

Alright that's my headcanons, Happy pride Month chat!! ^^

[princeps-lucis]

✨️ For our HL Professors ✨️

For the World Teachers Day

Art by Yours Truly princeps-lucis)

All Professors, including our friend's OC Professor Cornelia (by Val).

—

👉 Hogwarts Legacy RP discord 👈

[lorainelegacy]

My favorite squad✨

TikTok - YouTube

[yimmy-poo]

Attend Flying and Charms class in Brooms, Charms and Glasses!

[cursedonyx]

👋 hello!

can you do a reaction about MC farting in front of the others? I did this earlier today and i want someone else to be embarrassed!!

thenk yewwww

Your wish is my command, my unfortunately flatulent friend!

(Also don't worry about it, it happens! I farted in an interview once. Didn't get the job.)

HL Characters React to You Accidentally Breaking Wind in Class 💨🍃

You’re in a lesson with your friends when a nightmare decides to make an appearance in the form of a rebellious, gaseous expulsion that is unfortunately quite loud.

Sebastian Sallow

Immediate hysterics. He’s laughing so hard his sides start hurting and his face aches. He might even fall off his chair. Your embarrassment only makes it funnier, and he’ll tease you about it for weeks. Sebastian’s a big kid at heart, and farts are hilarious. He gets points taken off him for his complete lack of self-control.

Ominis Gaunt

He’s more embarrassed than you are. He’ll do his level best to pretend he didn’t hear anything to try and preserve some of your dignity and quickly talk about absolutely anything else. You’d buy that he didn’t hear it, if it wasn’t for the fact he’s gone bright red.

Garreth Weasley

Immediately farts himself to take the heat off you. No shame.

Leander Prewett

Laughs almost as hard as Sebastian, but sobers up quickly when he sees how embarrassed you are. Manages to avoid losing points.

Poppy Sweeting

Her immediate reaction is to giggle like a kid, trying very hard to stifle it so as not to embarrass you further, but the little pig-snorts she’s doing are pretty audible. It’s cute enough to make you smile a little, at least.

Natsai Onai

She pretends she’s not heard a thing, but makes sure to find you after class and check to see if you’re alright. She might even tell a story or two of how she’s embarrassed herself in the past to try and cheer you up.

Amit Thakkar

Compliments you on your pronunciation of the Gobbledegook word for ‘endurance’.

Imelda Reyes

Howling. Tears streaming down her face. More points lost for Slytherin. She’ll take great delight in blowing raspberries whenever you’re in the vicinity for the next month or so, or until someone does something more entertaining.

Professor Sharp

Sighs and tries to restore order to the classroom before continuing on as if nothing out of the ordinary occurred.

Professor Hecat

She doesn’t even break her stride, continuing her lecture without so much as a blink. Thank Merlin for professionalism.

Professor Ronen

Tries very hard to continue with the lesson, but keeps breaking out into little giggles and grins. On your next Charms test, there's a question about Silencing Charms.

Professor Garlick

Thinks it’s one of her plants.

Professor Fig

Chuckles a little and makes a soft quip about too many beans for breakfast. This manages to cheer you up immensely, because Fig is a legend.

Masterlist

[hoarding-niffler]

If I remember correctly, you can find a letter from Black addressed to the teachers. They asked for the option to have a little get-together. I don’t want to go into detail about how restrictive Black’s reply was but instead, talk about how the teachers get along and--just like students--have little gatherings; probably on the upper floors of The Three Broomsticks if Black isn’t permitting happenings within Hogwarts (which seems impossible, he cannot possibly have his eyes on them all the time, he naps every hour). 

And let me tell you, I bet it gets *wild*. 

Professor Fig can hold his drink. He, Professor Ronen and Madam Kogawa will engage in little drinking games (Ronen will fall asleep after his second butterbeer). It’s like their own personal teacher-bingo. Will Professor Onai worry about Natsai again and leave early? Will she talk about dark things to come? Bottoms up!

Professor Shah and Howin will talk about the particular importance of the night sky not only for humans but for beasts as well (especially mooncalves and their magical dances), and forget everything around them. 

Professor Binns rambles on and on about how every beam in the room has a particular history and nobody listens to him. He doesn’t seem to mind. 

Professor Hecat, Garlick and Sharp are the gossip trio. Hecat hears all kinds of things about their students and she will absolutely ‘share with the class’. Sharp will try to predict the profession students might end up in while Garlick and Hecat take bets on their student’s love life. It’s only after at least half a bottle of firewhisky that Sharp will join in with frighteningly accurate guesses.

[georginaweasley]

MC: I'm going to Hogsmeade, do you want anything?

Sebastian: I want a cure for my sister and my parents back.

MC: I only have 12 gallons...

Professor Weasley: Abraham, we need to talk about your professionalism.

Professor Ronen, standing on a chair: Those are some mighty brave words for someone standing in lava.

MC: Can you stop him from being so cheerful?

Garreth: I don't believe there's a force in the universe that can stop Amit from being cheerful.

MC: If you put “violently” in front of anything to describe your action, it becomes funnier.

Amit: Violently studies the stars.

Garreth: Violently brews protions.

Natsai: Violently trains as animagus.

Sebastian: Violently murders people.

Ominis: Violently worries about that previous statement.

Professor Weasley: Why is it, when something disastrous and drunk happens, it is always you three?

Ominis: [covered in glitter and wearing sunglasses indoors]

MC: [sporting a hickey the size of planet earth on their neck]

Sebastian: [with a split lip and a shiner]

Professor Weasley: Just sit down, I'm making you breakfast.

Garreth, t-posing in the hallway: Good morning, aunt Matilda.

Professor Weasley, not looking up from her clipboard: Good morning, problem child.

MC: What are you bringing with you to dinner?

Sebastian: My murdering attitude, and sparkling personality.

[phinik]

@gufu-vire

:)

[aesopsharpmybeloved]

feelin cute, might post cursed shit <3