#Some of its cause he’s an old pureblood family

[olivers-cocoapuffs]

Does anyone ever explain to Harry where all his family wealth came from? Or does he just not care?

[saintsenara]

Are you a Voldemort (“more”) or Voldemort (hard “t”) girl?

thank you very much for the ask, anon!

i'm a hard t girly without deviation, and i have two reasons as for why.

the first is that - as i've expanded on a little here - there's no way that a child from tom riddle's background would ever have formally encountered the french language and its phonetic conventions, and there's no way this would have been remedied at hogwarts, since the school doesn't [appear to] teach modern languages.

but riddle could have taught himself [some] french from books, meaning he'd be able to read the language, but not necessarily speak - and certainly not correctly pronounce - it. that is, he wouldn't realise the "t" in "mort" should be silent, and would pronounce his new name according to english phonetics.

this is a very neat distillation of who voldemort is. someone who would seek out the linguistic knowledge which many of his pureblood peers - who would very probably have been taught french as children by their governesses - had by virtue of their births to create the french-inspired moniker he uses to demonstrate his blood-supremacist importance, but who is restrained by his childhood and his class background from getting it completely right.

poor thing...

except the second reason - which is my preferred explanation - is that the hard t pronunciation is both deliberate and correct on voldemort's part, because we aren't supposed to think of "voldemort" as a french name at all.

there seems to be a fanon tendency to assume that many of the pureblood families we meet in canon have close, recent ties to france - that is, that they have french cousins or second cousins, own property in france, and speak french fluently as a native or heritage language.

and i do understand why this is, since many of the pureblood surnames we meet in canon - malfoy and lestrange being the most obvious examples - appear at first glance to be french.

but here we have something that i suspect gets lost in translation for readers outside of britain and ireland - which is why the fanon of purebloods having recent french heritage has developed - which is that these names are not [contemporary] french.

they are anglo-norman.

this is term which stems from the linguistic development which took place after england was invaded in 1066 by william the conqueror, a nobleman from normandy in northwestern france, who overthrew the reigning king - harold godwinson - and took the throne for himself.

harold and his people were speakers of old english - a germanic language, from the same language family from which dutch would emerge - while william spoke old norman - a romance language, from the same language family from which modern french and other langues d'oïl dialects would emerge.

the crashing together of two peoples, speaking languages from different linguistic families, resulted in the strange mongrel language anglo-norman, which gave way to middle english, and then to contemporary english - and it's the direct cause of why english has such a broad vocabulary, with subtle distinctions between words with ostensibly similar meanings like "deer" and "venison", "sheep" and "mutton", "kingly" and "royal", "ghost" and "spirit", "hopelessness" and "despair", "woods" and "forest", and "thoughtful" and "pensive", where other romance languages [french included] do not.

[a point which borges made far better than i do.]

to secure his position on the throne, william elevated his fellow norman conquerors to aristocratic status alongside - and often above - the existing anglo-saxon nobility.

these parvenu families had names which persist in britain today - baskerville, beaumont, clare, courtenay, d'arcy, de vere, devereux, gascoigne, harcout, lacey, latimer, lucy, mandeville, percy, purfoy, sinclair, vincent, and so on - including among families which continue to hold aristocratic titles, and among families who are not titled but who are nonetheless rich and socially prominent.

[the common joke that the royal family are, by the standards of the aristocracy, nouveau riche upstarts is because they have a germanic name - saxe-coburg-gotha - rather than an anglo-norman one.]

and within the world of harry potter, many of the pureblood [or recently pureblood] families we meet in canon have anglo-norman names which were historically aristocratic or gentry - avery, burke, crouch, fortescue, gaunt, lestrange, montague, sayre, travers, and so on. malfoy is a name jkr invented, but it conforms to the same principles - since, it should be noted, it's a play on an existing anglo-norman noble surname, purfoy [which means "pure faith" where malfoy means "bad faith"].

so names like malfoy are intended by the text to communicate that the people holding them are from old, posh, and very probably wealthy families - but from families which are nonetheless supposed to be understood as historically and culturally british.

[although not necessarily english - burke is a name widely found in ireland, for example, due to ireland's own anglo-norman colonisation.]

and one reason why these names are understood as british is linguistic - they're not pronounced in english the way they would be in french, not because they're being pronounced wrongly, but because they're part of languages which have evolved separately over the course of a millennium.

[the best examples? beauchamp - pronounced "bee-cham" - and mainwaring - pronounced "manner-ring".]

we say "malfoy", rather than "malfoi", and "lestrange" rather than "l'étrange" for this reason. and so we would - if we want to think of it as an anglo-norman, rather than a french, word - say "voldemort" rather than "voldemore".

the canonical voldemort is, without a doubt, a sincere blood- and magic-supremacist. he genuinely believes that the malfoys and lestranges are superior to those with muggle blood [even if he doesn't consider himself to fall under that category], and that this should give them social importance and power over the muggleborn and mixed-blood underclasses.

but what he isn't is someone who is deferential to the wizarding world's established class system, which assigns social importance and power on the basis of name, financial status, and adherence to social custom - since, of course, he is directly disadvantaged by this because he's born "tom riddle" and he grew up in an orphanage, no matter the antiquity of his maternal line and the immensity of his magical talent.

blood purity and magical power is certainly a significant part of this class system. but we can draw out of the text that its significance is clearly not expressed in the way voldemort thinks it should be.

we see throughout the latter half of the canon series that voldemort loathes the death eaters - such as anglo-norman legend lucius malfoy - who pretended not to have served him post-1981. and we also know that what he particularly dislikes is the idea that these death eaters disavowed him in order to continue enjoying the comfortable lives the established class system afforded them, rather than committing to his clearly more radical vision for how power relations should work in the wizarding world by refusing to disavow him:

"Lucius, my slippery friend," he whispered, halting before him. "I am told that you have not renounced the old ways, though to the world you present a respectable face. You are still ready to take the lead in a spot of Muggle-torture, I believe? Yet you never tried to find me, Lucius... Your exploits at the Quidditch World Cup were fun, I daresay... but might not your energies have been better directed toward finding and aiding your master?"

a huge amount of voldemort's relationship with the death eaters is based in his distaste for the esteem in which they hold the established class system. but, above and beyond this, it's based in the pleasure he gains from mocking them for this esteem.

he squats in their houses, refusing to follow the social conventions expected of guests by commandeering their domestic space as he sees fit. he insults his hosts when in company. he emasculates the male head of the families he has insinuated his way into by behaving like he's the person in charge of the household. he fucks at least one of their wives. he regards their children as his to do with as he wishes. he has no interest in manners or deportment or "correct" self-presentation and behaviour.

he makes them call him - a half-blood orphan who could never hope to outrank them in the system they revere - "my lord", and bow to him, and kiss the hems of his robes, and debase themselves for his favour.

we know that - as a teenager - voldemort spent a huge amount of time researching wizarding genealogy. without a doubt, the etymology of wizarding names would have been mentioned by the books and documents he used to do this.

and so it stands to reason that - in becoming lord voldemort - tom riddle deliberately assumed a name he intended to be understood as having the same anglo-norman flavour as those of his pureblood servants. whether he knew how voldemort would be pronounced in modern french or not is irrelevant - even if the hard t comes from a poor boy's ignorance of french phonetics, it doesn't diminish the actual purpose of the name in the slightest...

because what calling himself lord voldemort signifies is his contempt for - and his mockery of - the death eaters. it takes something they're so proud of - that their names indicate antiquity and nobility; that they are conferred social importance on the basis of their names alone - and shows that he considers both of these things singularly unimpressive.

why - it croons - would someone like lucius be so proud of bearing the malfoy name that he'd lie to the wizengamot and pretend he never prostrated himself at lord voldemort's feet just so the family reputation didn't have to take a hit?

why would he bother? when lord voldemort can invent a name which alludes to exactly the same linguistic principles whenever he likes and have it afforded infinitely more respect [so much respect that people literally fear to speak it!] than any of his servants' names ever have been or ever will be.

a diva!

[sundrop-writes]

if Draco walked in on you changing...

Word Count: 1360

Harry Potter Masterlist

Warnings: I have no clue when this could fit onto the general Harry Potter timeline (and tbh I don't think it does); this features the 'arranged marriage' trope; the reader is a rich pureblood (but there is no indication that the reader looks down on muggleborns the way that the Malfoys do); there is no mention of which pureblood family the reader is from, so there is no indication of her race; the reader is mentioned to be afab/has breasts and wears dresses; mentions of house elves/use of house elf labor; Draco is very cocky and entitled in this; there is some dubious consent because Draco looks at the reader while she is undressed without her consent, but she doesn't fully care; Draco calls the reader 'darling' and 'love'; the reader's parents are discussing the arranged marriage with the Malfoys without her consent; passing mention of the reader and Draco having kids together; the reader is definitely attracted to Draco and denying it. I believe that's everything.

A/N: Can you tell that I'm obsessed with the arranged marriage trope when it comes to Draco?? Yes? No? (Well you're gonna be able to tell that even more if he wins the other poll - which he probably will, and that oneshot about him is the one that I post.) I just love the idea that because he's not the best person, the reader would be forced to be in proximity to him, and she would bring out his more likeable side over time. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this! Eventually, I want to do this trope/reaction with all the characters that I mainly write for. (And maybe more, like Neville and Ginny.)

...

The past week of your life has been nothing but a hectic chaos, and you were simply trying your hardest to get through it. 

Your parents had travelled such a long way to ‘catch up’ with their old school friends, the Malfoys, some fellow purebloods that they hadn’t seen since graduating Hogwarts when they were all teenagers. This meant you had been a ‘guest’ at Malfoy Manor for the past week - seven straight days filled with nothing but fake smiling, bragging about your accomplishments, in detail (for your parents’ sake), being shown off like you were some trophy out of their case. You hated it. 

You didn’t think you could handle sitting through one more evening dinner or afternoon tea, hearing them all wax poetic about the ‘good ole days’ while their insufferable son stared at you from across the room. But, as you kept telling yourself, you could go home soon. You could soon go back to your regular life, your own house with walls that weren’t decorated in depressing dark shades - a place with a sprawling rose garden that you missed so dearly. 

Tonight, you just had to get through dinner. 

And then, you could fake some kind of illness and be left alone in the large, comfortable (if entirely dark and dreary) guest room that they had put you up in for your stay. 

Currently, you were racing around that room, wearing nothing but your black stockings and heels, and your jewellery, looking for your perfume bottle to spray some on your neck and chest before you put on your dress and attempted to go through the hassle of zipping it up on your own. You knew that the Malfoys had house elves that you could call upon, but you were really only comfortable with your own elf, Peplum, being the one to dress you. And she was back home because your mother and father didn’t allow her to travel. 

You finally found the perfume bottle and sprayed a few good pumps of it over your neck and breasts, and put one on your inner wrist for good measure. Then you took a moment to bask in the scent because you found it so enjoyable - a nice moment of calming peace from the annoyance and mental strain you had been put through during the past week. 

When you heard the door creak on its hinges, you thought you had been mistaken. 

“My goodness, what do we have here?” 

The sound of someone speaking caused you to jolt, practically jumping out of your skin, and you rushed to cover yourself - the only available covering being your own arms. You turned your back to the door, wrapping your arms around yourself to keep your chest covered, knowing that you looked entirely foolish wearing black tights that went up to your waist, black underwear, and heels - with nothing else. 

Naturally, Draco thought that you looked like a sex dream come to life. 

He could think of nothing sexier than a woman wearing black stockings. So naturally, seeing you topless while wearing those - it caused a stir in his pants that he had to concentrate on for it not to turn into a troubling hardon. He did wish that you weren’t wearing the underwear, though. 

“Don’t cover up on my account.” Draco smirked, shoving his hands into the pockets of his pantsuit (partially as a measure to hide any stirring of his cock). And then he simply continued to stand there, not taking his eyes off the round curve of your ass for even a moment. 

When he spoke again, it was only then that you knew who was there, and any shock pulsing through you at the fact of someone just waltzing in faded away in favour of pure annoyance grinding against your nerves. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You barked, glaring over your shoulder at him. “Knocking was invented for a reason!” 

Draco always found your anger attractive. He found that he liked you angry and topless even better. 

“It’s my house. I don’t have to knock.” He shrugged, sounding as entitled as ever. 

You sighed so hard at this it practically came out as a growl under your breath. Even if you liked the heat in his eyes as he looked you over, even if you found him to be somewhat attractive - that pattern of entitlement made him impossible to put up with. 

You had grown up pureblood, and definitely wealthy, but you absolutely had more humility than someone like him. 

“That is so not true!” You screeched back, entirely insulted by this notion. “Knocking is a basic courtesy that your parents should have taught you!” 

“Whatever.” Draco sighed, seeming entirely unconcerned with the social faux pas of walking in on you partially dressed - he didn’t rush to apologise or even bother to look away. “When we’re married, it won’t matter. I’ll get to look at my wife as much as I want,” 

He said these words with a filthy greed grinding against the back of his throat, the expression on his face disgustingly satisfied. He raked his eyes across your body once again, drinking in every bit of you like he was truly entitled to you. 

You turned around then, your neck aching from craning to look at him. You still had an arm covering your breasts, but his eyes definitely stuck to the puff of your cleavage that was leaking out around it. You would have yelled at him, called him a pig for staring so hard - but cared less and less about his staring as you got caught up on his words. 

“‘When we’re married’?” You echoed back, the words entirely strained on your voice. “Are you okay? Have you been snorting the Floo Powder or are you usually this out of touch?” 

Draco chuckled then, and titled his head slightly as he looked at you - it was distinctly condescending, like how someone might look down at a small child. Like he thought you were the one who was truly out of touch. 

“Darling, are you really that daft?” He asked slowly. “Do you really not know what this trip is for?” 

“What?” You croaked. 

Now, you were truly confused. 

“Our parents didn’t just feel like ‘catching up’ out of the blue. They’re trying to come to some sort of agreement. They’re match-making us. You know - bonding two powerful pureblood families.” He explained. 

“Oh… oh god.” You sighed. It all made perfect sense. The ‘hush hush’ lunches that you weren’t allowed to sit in on, the insistence from your mother that you ‘bond’ with Draco, her questions about if you wanted to have children or not when you thought that was distant years in your future. “I am gonna kill them!” 

You moved to storm out of the room, wanting to give your parents a stern talking to for not warning you about this. But - 

“You’re still naked, love.” Draco chuckled. 

You felt a flush of heat run through you - you wanted to say that it was from embarrassment, and not the wonderfully teasing nickname, and his cutesy tone. But you had other things to focus on than your non-attraction to Draco Malfoy. 

“Ugh.” You turned back around sharply and grabbed your dress off the bed, and after you stepped into it and aggressively pulled the straps up over your shoulders, you struggled to reach behind you and even begin to pull the zipper closed. 

You froze instantly when you felt Draco’s cool fingers brush against the skin of your lower back as he grabbed onto the zipper and then nimbly did it up for you. His touch was surprisingly gentle, and you told yourself that the shivers down your spine were from his cool touch, and not because of any underlying (very annoyed) attraction toward him. 

“Might not be so bad.” Draco breathed against your neck, causing more goosebumps to form on your skin. “Being married to you.” 

You felt an argument bubbling under the surface - but you saved that energy for the ensuing fight you were bound to have with your parents. Instead, you simply scoffed and rolled your eyes in response.

[reysdriver]

Stop The World | S.B.

Sirius proposes to take you away at your arranged engagement party to Lucius Malfoy — sirius x fem!pureblood!reader angst

warnings: cheating but the good kind lol, reader is in an unhappy/forced relationship

words: 0.8k

a/n: this is like loosely based on the song Stop The World I Wanna Get Off With You by Arctic Monkeys (go listen its amazing) and I may be doing a part 2 later

You were the only person wearing white in a sea of black or colours only a few shades away. That wasn't the only reason you were uncomfortable. You were surrounded by pureblood maniacs who only cared to be here so they could pester you with questions about having an heir immediately after graduating from Hogwarts.

Your family arranged a wedding between you and Lucius Malfoy, and you couldn't even voice your dismay for fear of being disowned and having nowhere to go. So, because you couldn't do anything else, you took a sip of your drink and tried to drown out the conversations around you. 

"Shall we dance?" Lucius asked you, void of emotion. 

You didn't give him a verbal reply. Instead, you just held out your hand for him to take and walked with him to the area where several other unhappy couples waltzed. 

His hands dropped down to your waist—too possessive for your liking—and you brought your hands up to rest on his shoulders. You danced, barely making eye contact or speaking or doing anything else couples do. 

Interrupting the tension of the dance, you saw Sirius Black walking closer to you and you held back a smile. Your eyes darted to the side so as to continue looking at him, and you concluded that he was, in fact, walking right over to you. 

"Malfoy." Sirius said, getting Lucius' attention. "Mind if I steal (y/n) for a dance?" 

He looked hesitant, but you knew the majority of that was just due to the rivalry between the two young men. 

You tried to get Lucius to leave, making a pointless excuse for him to go away. "Lucius, would you mind getting me another drink? And perhaps you could greet some of our guests on your way."

His mood remained largely unchanged, but he wanted to avoid making a scene over something so small at this party. He let go of you and walked away. You quickly resumed the dance with Sirius, only much more comfortable as you were in the arms of your secret boyfriend. 

"This isn't what you want. You know that." 

"And what is it that I want?" You asked with a cocky head tilt. 

"Me." The word caused you to roll your eyes, even though it was absolutely true. "But not just me. Anything but this, really."

You gazed into his silver eyes, imagining the happy life with him that he had insinuated with those few words. He was right, you wanted to get out of this life, but you felt trapped. It's not easy being a sixteen year-old with your life mapped out for you by wealthy relatives who couldn't care less about your happiness as long as the bloodline was continuing. 

"Well, it's a shame I'm already engaged." You said sadly, and he twirled you in sync with the music. 

He pulled you back into his arms, the two of you were perhaps even closer together than you had been a few moments ago. "But not married." He countered. "And even if you were, I wouldn't care. I would still offer to sweep you away and be with you."

You tried to keep your voice down. If other guests heard you having this conversation, you were sure it would not end well. "Well, my knight in shining armour, how do you plan to rescue me from this tower? I'm sure the dragons would not be pleased to hear I want out."

"You don't have to tell them. I plan on running away and living with the Potters, you should join me. I have my uncle's fortune, and I could buy us somewhere to live and keep us afloat after graduation." 

The proposal scared you more than anything, but it was everything you've ever wanted. You wanted to jump into his arms and have him carry you away that instant, but you saw Lucius coming back with a glass of champagne, and you knew you had to wrap up the conversation. 

"I'll be needing some air in ten minutes. I'll go out to the gardens, meet me there." You said quickly and quietly, then you unwrapped your arms from his shoulders and gave him a polite kiss on the cheek. 

Your betrothed—the official one—handed you the drink, and you took a sip with perfect etiquette. 

"Thank you for the dance, Sirius." You said, both of you holding back your joy from public eyes. 

"Thank you, my dear. This party is lovely, by the way." 

[indigo-scarf]

Lucius did NOT want Draco to be a Death Eater

In my last meta, I explained why Draco DID want to be a Death Eater, rather than being forced into it. In this one, I will argue that Lucius not only did not coerce Draco, but was actually opposed to his son’s taking the Mark — and for this too the story is more compelling and tragic.

Lucius’s actions suggest he became a Death Eater more out of self-interest than ardent devotion to Voldemort or his cause. For Lucius, joining the Death Eaters seems more like a pragmatic matter of being wherever power and privilege are. 

Of course he believed in pureblood supremacy, but he wouldn’t die for it, like Bellatrix. He was also not disenfranchised like Snape, so it’s not like Voldemort was his only option. Voldemort was simply a convenient option at the time, but Lucius wasn’t that attached.

That’s why he doesn’t stay loyal to Voldemort after he loses the First War. As soon as there’s nothing in it for him, Lucius dips out: “[Malfoy’s family] were some of the first to come back to our side after You-Know-Who disappeared. Said they’d been bewitched” (PS6).

Between the wars, then, Lucius forgets about Voldemort and simply puts his efforts towards other sources of influence: joining the Hogwarts Board of Governors, currying political favour through “donations to excellent causes” (GF36)...

He even acts directly against Voldemort’s wishes by smuggling Tom Riddle’s diary into Hogwarts. As Dumbledore tells Harry:

Lucius was supposed to wait for Voldemorts sayso [...]. No doubt he thought that Lucius would not dare do anything with the Horcrux other than guard it carefully, but he was counting too much upon Lucius’s fear of a master who had been gone for years and whom Lucius believed dead. [...] Had Lucius known he held a portion of his masters soul in his hands, he would undoubtedly have treated it with more reverence — but instead he went ahead and carried out the old plan for his own ends. By planting the diary upon Arthur Weasleys daughter, he hoped to discredit Arthur and get rid of a highly incriminating magical object in one stroke. (HBP23)

Lucius gets away with that for the time, and by the 1994 Quidditch World Cup he’s feeling unstoppable, gathering with the old Death Eaters in a highly public place to torture Muggles for sport. However, he’s in for a brutal surprise when Voldemort returns:

“Lucius, my slippery friend,” [Voldemort] whispered, halting before him. “I am told that you have not renounced the old ways, though to the world you present a respectable face. [...] Your exploits at the Quidditch World Cup were fun, I daresay… but might not your energies have been better directed toward finding and aiding your master? [...] You have disappointed me… I expect more faithful service in the future.” (GF33)

Plus, says Dumbledore:

“[Voldemort] was not aware, for instance, that the diary had been destroyed until he forced the truth out of Lucius Malfoy. When Voldemort discovered that the diary had been mutilated and robbed of all its powers, I am told that his anger was terrible to behold.” (HBP23)

So Lucius is fully aware that he is on thin ice with Voldemort. Retrieving the prophecy from the DoM is his chance to regain his standing, but that goes horrifically for him:

“Ah, poor Lucius… what with Voldemorts fury about the fact that he threw away the Horcrux for his own gain, and the fiasco at the Ministry last year, I would not be surprised if he is not secretly glad to be safe in Azkaban at the moment.” (HBP23)

At this point, Lucius surely realises that being a Death Eater isn’t the advantageous pursuit it once was, at least not for him. So why would he want to bring his son aboard a sinking ship?

Lucius has high expectations for Draco’s future: in the same scene where he berates Draco for not being top of his class, he also says, “I hope my son will amount to more than a thief or a plunderer, Borgin” (CS4). In the past, he might have imagined joining Voldemort would bring Draco the prestige he dreamed for his son, but by now that has no reason to remain the case.

Although Lucius’s love for Draco isn’t the healthiest, he never wanted harm to come to him. In the Nimbus 2001s and Buckbeak incidents, Lucius shows concern for Draco’s well-being, even if it might be mixed with pride and possessiveness. Lucius is not Bellatrix, who “would be glad to give [her sons] up to the service of the Dark Lord!” (HBP2) — Lucius’s son is his.

Proud, arrogant Lucius also wouldn’t want to rely on Draco to save the family. For one thing, it would only compound on Lucius’s post-DoM humiliation to need his sixteen-year-old son to fix his mistakes, to allow his son to be more competent than him.

For another, Lucius struggles to believe Draco is competent at all. As mentioned, Lucius does have high expectations of Draco, but at the same time he’s very worried that Draco can’t fulfil them. So, when it comes to being a teen Death Eater — something many people justifiably doubt Draco’s capacity for — Lucius would likely be sceptical, too.

This lack of validation is the root of Draco’s daddy issues, and that’s precisely what Voldemort exploits to concoct a beautifully evil scheme.

Voldemort lures Draco into serving him by promising Draco the recognition he never got from his father. Everyone else can tell that Draco isn’t expected to succeed (if Narcissa and Snape can, I don’t see how Lucius wouldn’t), but Draco is so desperate to prove his worth that he believes Voldemort. 

Thus, Lucius’s punishment is not simply that his son is endangered for Lucius’s failure as a Death Eater. The most cruel part of it is that Draco goes willingly — and that it’s Lucius’s own fault for his failure as a father.

It’s also thematically more logical that Lucius not be in control of the situation. He starts out as a cunning man who can manipulate his way out of anything and pull all the right strings to get what he wants, but then his arc is about losing all that due to his hubris.

After the DoM, the fitting plan for Lucius would be to distance himself and his family from Voldemort, just as he did after the First War — only now that’s no longer possible. “Slippery” Lucius can’t slip away this time, because he’s literally trapped in prison. 

He has been caught by the Light side, invoked the wrath of the Dark Lord, and now he can only watch impotently as the bigoted and callous upbringing he inflicted on Draco leads his son to towards his death.

In the end, Lucius loses command of his estate, loses his wand, loses his dignity, and very nearly loses his son. The puppet master becomes Voldemort’s helpless puppet himself.

Draco, meanwhile, tried so hard to make his father proud, but only ended up feeling more incompetent than ever. He made mistakes with lifelong consequences, while everyone, including his father, could see that he was only getting played for a naïve boy.

[infinite-criseas]

Remus stared blankly across the pages of his book. He had read the same passage a couple times, not actually comprehending anything. His mind was stuck on the same question that had been perplexing him all morning. “Why didn’t he invite me?”

….

Earlier that day, Remus was enjoying breakfast while reading about his latest fascination - high wizard society and its history. A subject which his boyfriend Sirius seemed to have infinite knowledge about, albeit not learned willingly. James ran in, sweaty after quidditch practice.

“Moony!! Want to find tuxes together this afternoon?”

“What for?” Remus replied, confused.

“The Black family gala of course!” James replied, “my parents might also have some extra suits we can try on, they might look a bit dated but I’m sure you can make dated work considering u dress like an old geezer already” James said jokingly

“I- I don’t think I’m going” Remus replied, suddenly embarrassed of himself. Sirius never said anything about a gala. Why wouldn’t he want him there? Many reasons came to mind, but he avoided thinking about them as to not spiral immediately.

“WHAT?! You have to come Mooony, Sirius will be devastated! And the whole gang is coming… Peter, Marlene, Lily, Dorcas…” James whined.

“No- I- Sirius didn’t invite me.” Remus said quickly, slammed his book shut, and ran out into the hall, leaving behind a stunned James. Remus kept running, as the spiraling thoughts began to set in. Was his boyfriend embarrassed of him? Did Sirius not want to invite a werewolf to his family? After all who would want a violent beast at such a royal event? Or was it because he wasn’t a pureblood? Did Sirius even love him as much as he thought? Tears welling up in his eyes, Remus ran into the woods.

…

Meanwhile Sirius walked into the common room, flowers in hand, excitedly searching for Remus.

Two nights ago, Remus showed him some muggle movie- the name he can’t remember- but there was a cute scene where the guy extravagantly asks the girl to be his date to the dance. Remus explained to him that muggles from across the pond had a dance in their upper levels called “PROM” and they’d ask their dates in very elaborate “prom-posals”. Sirius fell in love with the idea.

When he found out about his family’s gala, he decided to ask Remus to be his date with a “prom-posal” of his own. He consorted with Lily to get learn a spell to write out “Be my date to the gala?” in the air. James of course helped him practice the spell during which they cause a couple small fires (none deadly). And he got Peter to help him find these absolutely beautiful golden flowers, which matched the glisten in Remus’s eyes.

Sirius looked for Remus, only to find the room empty. James ran through the entrance, completely out of breath, “oh Merlin, I’ve been looking for you Pads. I’m an idiot, I accidentally told Moony about the gala and now he thinks you don’t want him there. The map says he’s somewhere in the forest” James blurted out, gasping for breath at the end, “I’m so sorry for ruining the surprise Pads”

Anger. Confusion. Reassignment. “Ah its ok Prongs we all know you’re lips are as loose as your arsehole” Sirius joked, patting James across the chest as he ran off to find Moony, once again leaving a stunned James Potter behind.

Sirius found moony under a tree, open book in his hand, tear stains streaking his face. “Oh Moony, babe” Sirius puts down the flowers and runs his arm around Remus, embracing him. Remus instinctively buries his face into his boyfriend shoulder. Sirius rubbed his hand across Remus’ back comforting him.

“I didn’t invite you to the gala because I wanted to surprise you with a promposal”

Remus looked up innocently “like the movie we watched?” He whispered softly in surprise.

“Exactly, my love” Sirius cast the spell, which began to write out “Be my date to the gala?” in sparks of colorful flames across the air. He picked the flowers off the ground next to him and gently offered them to his boyfriend who was once again in tears. Remus started giggling through the tears.

“It’s beautiful, Pads” he sniffled “I love you” Remus clasped Sirius’ face in his hands and brought their lips crashing together. The flowers fell to the floor again, as their kisses deepened each pulling the other one closer.

“So will you?” Sirius asked when the finally pulled apart for air.

“Will I what?” Remus asked

“Be my date to my cursed family’s stupid gala?” Sirius laughed

“I couldn’t possibly say no”

[xsecretkeepers]

( gwilym lee | cisman | he/him ) — was that arthur weasley passing through diagon alley? those close to them say they remind them of oil stained hands, a brain moving so quickly no one can keep up, mess which can never be sorted through, an easy smile even in the hardest of times, which i suppose seems to fit that gryffindor alumnus. they’re actually pretty curious, friendly, and flighty for a thirty-two-year-old, but i wonder if it serves them well when working in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office at the Ministry of Magic. rumor has it that the pureblood has stayed neutral… for now. i wouldn’t have guessed… but this is a conversation we should be having somewhere else.

Growing up, Arthur witnessed the impact of the Black family’s fanatical pureblood beliefs. He doesn’t think his mother ever regretted leaving the Black family, but he knew there was a sadness in her. Discussions of grandparents seemed to hit her particularly hard. Arthur did all he could to assure her that he hadn’t missed out on anything as a result of her estrangement, but he knew she never really believed it.

To the Weasleys, family was everything. His father and mother fought hard for their boys, their happiness was always the greatest priority, no matter the state of their finances. It was drilled into Arthur over and over, nothing mattered more (it seemed some of her Black upbringing did rub off on his mother, even if she channeled it in a far healthier way).

The Weasley family had not always been poor. They were one of the oldest and greatest wizarding households, no matter how they rejected the idea that blood purity mattered. Their status as blood traitors eroded their position over time. Doors were closed to them, opportunities stripped away.

This was particularly apparent for his parents. His mother’s parents launched an all out campaign after she left the family. His father’s businesses were vandalised, his uncles’ careers stalled or ended. The Blacks were careful to keep their hands clean, but everyone knew they were behind it.

Arthur’s fascination with muggle items started early. It was something he shared with his mother. She was amazed by the world that had been denied her, became a perpetual collector of everything muggle. Arthur loved going along to muggle garage sales with her, trying to guess what each item was used for, the mechanics of how they could work without magic.

He was never a stellar student. Direct instruction just wasn’t how he learnt. Arthur needed to get his hands dirty. He had to see and learn how things worked. Potions class was a standout for him, breaking a potion into its individual parts and putting them back together again was a revelation.

Slowly he learnt to do the same with his other classes. He needed to understand how a spell worked before he could cast it. He went from scoring all As in his O.W.Ls to Os and Es in his N.E.W.Ts (he may also have asked a rather cute wixen named Molly to tutor him in his N.E.W.Ts, but that was perhaps more of a distraction than a help).

When he graduated, he joined the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office at the Ministry of Magic. He expected his apprenticeship to last for two years at most, but it seemed something continuously interfered, preventing him from being promoted – a position just isn’t available at the moment he was told. He suspected the truth, someone was interfering. Likely the same people who had interfered in his father’s businesses.

He is now miles behind most of his peers at the Ministry, and it hasn’t helped his finances.

Arthur is aware of the Order, wants to do the right thing, but he has three boys at home to think about, he can’t bare the thought of something happening to him and Molly being left alone to care for the kids. Still, he helps where he can, feeding information in and out of the Ministry, pointing people in the right direction to try and aid the cause. He’s not sure he can stomach staying neutral for much longer.

[ariparri]

HPHL - Avis Ni Conraoi

Avis' portrait edit is finally done! This definitely looks so much better than her old version where I overdid it with the airbrush 😩

I know I got Rohan's drawing in the drafts, but since Avis has an image done already I may as well introduce her character! Some of this was just copied from her old bio, which I need to edit for later. Maybe I'll make a portrait edit for Rohan so he can match with Avis.

❌ NO REPOSTING ❌

Avis ni Conraoi (Oct. 14th) is a pureblood Irish witch. She is the only child of Cormac and Aisling. Despite being an only child, she grew up with many cousins, all who dote on her. She's the second youngest amongst her cousins, she was treated as the baby of the family. Avis grew up in Abbeyfeale, Ireland, before moving to Kinsale after her marriage with Rohan.

Gentle and patient, Avis cares for the well-being of her family and friends, always awaiting their return and watching over them. Both Rohan and Zelaria, however, are unable to discern her true thoughts, outside of her familial love towards them.

Avis shares her father's sentiments of avoiding needless conflict and protecting order. In reality, she severely doubts her strengths, fearing conflict and would usually not want to take part in it. Deeply moved by the sorrows she sees around her, she is empathetic to other people's strife and desires to impart hope to them. To ease her stress, Avis may compose melodies or poems. Her art is her alternative means of inspiring courage and peace of mind to herself and others.

Free-spirited and unpredictable, she is noted to act against the norms of her time, choosing to wander off on her own, much to Rohan's chagrin. Her genuine care for her family is coupled with her knowledge and she often acts as a guide for her younger followers, and even her father.

Like Rohan, the delicate and refined Avis does everything she can to declaw the stark class inequality between herself and others. Her words are perfumed with the scent of nobility yet they are kind and candid. Her composure is poised yet her casual gestures are friendly and inviting. She may be modest in receiving praise, yet her maturity and tenacity will shine through to inspire those around her. Avis follows the will of her father to exert herself for her family, enduring any trial that may come their way.

An advocate for peace, Avis believes in equality for creatures and other magical beings. Once when she was younger, she freed all the house elves in her home, emptying out her closet and giving them her clothes. Her family, while surprised by the house elves causing a commotion being freed, couldn't stay mad at Avis as they knew it was only a matter of time till she freed them. Ever since then, the family only hires people to work in their estate.

Given the amount of wisdom she has, Avis is marvelous in Divination. Her skills with fortune telling make people believe she's seer. When in actuality, it's the poetic language and her attentiveness that make her skills in divination remarkable.

As her patronus, Avis is symbolized by a butterfly, which stems from her hopeful soul. The winged insect's "dreamlike" meaning alludes to her tranquil nature.

Butterflies are commonly seen as objects of beauty yet also symbolize death and rebirth in various cultures. A few legends state that a person's remains or soul may be reincarnated as several butterflies after their passing. During Avis' passing, a kaleidoscope of butterflies appeared around her grave.

The type of ancient magic Avis possesses is kept a secret from many outside of the Conraoi family. Avis was born with 'Mystic Eyes' which neutralizes the spells and magic of any wizard or witch that meets her gaze directly, halting whatever magic they are using at the moment. This magic can also be used as a hypnosis technique, where Avis reverses the homicidal intent of anyone who meets the stare of its user directly. In other words; if someone expresses hostility toward her, Avis is able to will those opposing her into harming themselves instead of her. Unlike the predecessor before her in the family, Avis' is not permanently enabled and can be triggered at will. When activated, Avis' corneas and pupils turn a bright blue.

Avis however detests the negative effect her magic possesses, and refuses to hold any ill fiber in her to avoid using it. Besides hypnosis and neutralizing, Avis' ancient magic has another effect. Her special technique is a spell called “Dreaming Reality”, which enables her to create illusions and control the movement of it through her harp. This spell is often used for those on their deathbeds, afraid of dying alone. Avis casts this spell to put them at ease as they give their final breath.

[rroechan]

Messrs. Shipwright & Seuss

Magic detective OCs

me rambling below (theres a lot)

originally, they were hp fan characters, with houses, wands, patronuses and everything but for varying reasons, they evolved past that and I basically made up a whole world, similar but not entirely. a Lot of changes were just me fixing and then adding waaay too much detail into the magic system (because I go rabid for world building)

eg. i threw that whole witch = girl, wizard = boy thing FAR out the window. Those are basically titles now that classifies what sort of magic user are you. Regular peeps are Mages, 'Wizard' is basically like a phd, Witches are homeschooled, Warlocks are the equivalent to 'fucked around, found out'. I could go more in depth if ppl r interested,,,

Dr.Shipwright

one on the right

pseud Jeers Shipwright, real name Noah Silkryce

Holds the title of wizard, is an actual genuine doctor whom specialises in the treatment and study of magic cores (a magic user's source of magic located very literally inside their bodies)

he lives in the two story apartment above the storefront thats basically their detective office

his apartment is meant for like a family of 4 but he has So Many Books. Even copies of the same book because theyre "collector's edition" or something other. My god, one quarter of his collection is untouched and still in their packaging because he hasnt finished the ones hes already opened yet.

He'll read about anything you throw at him but he enjoys fiction the most

Eccentric (read, i projected all of my neurodivergence onto him)

aside from loving books to no end, he also enjoys wearing funky patterns. different coloured & patterned socks, arcade floor pants, etc etc. Even at a funeral, if you looked close enough, his necktie has black cat patterns on it.

(He started doing it cause one of his favourite book characters did it. Perseus is ever grateful Noah didnt pick up the character's accent as well)

he looks charming but has nearly zero social skills. Best part is that its not that he doesnt try, he just doesnt bother with it. he leaves all the talking part to Perseus

Mr. Seuss

one on the left

pseud Seuss Dreammaker, real name Perseus O. Coy

Originally part of the Magic Police but left to join Noah in becoming a detective duo. He still retains some favorability from the magic police, specifically the current police chief whom he used to apprentice under.

She, the police chief, is one of the ways the two get their cases

While Noah uses a wand for most magic, Perseus uses a foil sword disguised as a cane

the magic police use magic swords.

Perseus also just. Knows fencing cause hes from a pureblood richie magic family

yea theres blood politics in this too but in the timeline, its cooled waaay the fuck down by the time Noah and Perseus got out of secondary school

coming from a pureblood family, his tastes lean a bit more to the expensive side, especially for food.

him and his parents travelled a lot thus Perseus having a very broad flavour pallette. At some point he'd began his own secret little food journal rating and writting down dishes and recipes he's picked up. (he learnt how to cook purely because the school food was far too bland. Just imagine younger him as that one person on tiktok who cooked a wellington in their dorm)

He acts plenty reserved but he can be very excitable when it comes to new things, not just food. Though, he doesn't show it well unless prompted to.

"Decorum, remember decorum" old lessons die hard. His form of being excited or interested is just very subdued, Noah is always first to notice and will push Perseus into trying something.

I wanted to say that Noah is "La la la la" and Perseus is "Ok ok ok ok" but I failed to clarify that they're both cousins, related by their great-grandparents. This isn't something I threw in, this is relevant to the plot and how they meet each other

one last fun fact abt these two: they're technically legacy characters based off my other hp ocs who are like, great-grand uncle and aunts to these two.

its a nightmare, its insanity, but its very funny to me

[thxtandromedatonks]

She'd decided there was nothing quite like the peace and serenity of being on the canal, early morning, with a coffee and taking in the sights and sounds of an early morning sunrise. The early morning Autumn mist had started making its wispy way over the fields and into her awareness. She was really starting to enjoy canal life, far more than she had expected to. Although just recently what with things take a turn she had wondered whether they would be safer creating a home for themselves. The boat was moored up well but the colder the morning the more she had started to not be particularly keen on living on the boat. She had made her feelings known to her husband many a time. No more so than the past couple of weeks as the temperature dropped, and they had found they had to moor elsewhere.

Don't get her wrong, she really did love canal life, but it was starting to feel eerily similar to being a sitting duck at target practice. Since her cousin, who originally was a big fan of the living on a boat idea found out intelligence that the couple could potentially be under surveillance from the other side, well it hadn't sat well with any of them. So much so that she had returned to their old home a few times to try and get inspiration for their next home. Oh how much did she miss that beach. Things had changed within their life the past few months and they now needed to be far more practical with what they did from now on for moving was starting to become a far more dangerous option than it used to be. But they couldn't go back to the Cornish coast anymore for a couple of Aurors now made it their home. And what a home they had made.

If he was honest with himself the pregnancy scare his wife had recently had had made him also think twice about where they should be living. He'd decided to let her figure this one out because she knew where it would be best for her to settle. Sometimes he still saw her as the witch whom only recently had left her Pureblood family and was like a fish out of water living the completely opposite lifestyle. What he was good at forgetting was that she was well accustomed to her new life. She was good at reminding him by some of the things she did. She loved to bring him a coffee in the morning if she was up before he was, like on this particular morning.

She had her feet up upon the side of the boat, lost in thought. He knew exactly which thoughts he had disturbed as she looked up to see him sitting down opposite her. She passed him his coffee with the brightest of the smiles.

"I think we need to be gone by Halloween week." He suddenly announced to her as he looked out over the canal itself, his gaze solely fixed on the leaves that were falling from the trees. "You ok on finding a place?"

She knew better than to ask further as to why. She knew that the answer would not be good, nor would it be something she would want to hear. All this war stuff that he had to know, but couldn't tell her, got to him when he had to hear himself say it out loud.

"I'm perfectly fine in finding us somewhere new to reside. We can always create if needs be whilst under the guise of that tent. We can create our forever home. Our family home." She smiled brightly towards him, before allowing it to disappear from her face as she realised the sadness it caused her when she thought about family.

She'd always imagined if she fell pregnant with his child then nothing dreadful could or would ever happen. Those she had told were so happy for the couple that it felt like nothing could dampen their spirits. But two months after the couple had found out the news she found herself in St Mungos. She'd collapsed in Diagon Alley. How she actually got to the hospital she had heard many a different scenario about for she was visiting the Alley on her own. He had found out where she was when he started to worry far more about her than he had expected to. It'd had been the first time since they found out that he had let her go out by herself as he was wanting so much to protect them both. For him to find out something had happened to them it was like his worst fears all in one go, but to then see her, that broke his heart.

She looked the saddest he had ever seen her look. She couldn't even bring herself to look up at him due to the fact she feared he would have thought she had failed him. He had been so happy, and it had all gone so badly wrong. For what reason they were adamant that they didn't want to know. They felt like that they already knew.

There was indeed surveillance on the couple, of that she had found out whilst she was in the hospital when her younger sister had made contact. In reality it had been her younger sister that had taken her to the hospital. Andromedas' pregnancy had appeared upon the family portrait, just like her marriage to Ted had. It had been Narcissa whom had noticed this most recent change when pacing the Manor one time waiting for her now husband to come back from whatever dealing he was up to. Narcissa had been in Knockturn Alley when Andromeda had collapsed. She'd appeared wondering what all the panic was about and whom was involved. To see her elder sister there and to then hear in the hospital that the portrait wasn't lying. Neither sister knew what to say to the other.

The sight of Narcissa by her bedside had spooked something in her elder sister. It had been so long that she had forgotten that her younger sister solely lived for her family. She may competely disapprove of her husband, but their child, well that was a scenario Narcissa hadnt planned for. The sisters were aware however that this could and most certainly would be the only time they saw each other.

"I would quite like you to know, Cissy, that I am doing rather well. He treats me far better than any choice that Mother of Father could have ever found for me. I know you would dislike him immensly but Ted is whom I have chosen for myself, whom I am deeply in love with." She offered hesitantly as an explanation for the past few years.

"Oh Andie, don't be so ridiculous..." She began before lowering her tone as she realised how stand offish she sounded. "You never said goodbye to me when you left that day. I was ridiculously and bitterly mad at you for that. Not to hear a word from you in the slightest, and now I find you in this state... Oh Andie, I truly do wish I could do more for you, but we have so little time for your husband will be here imminently I would quite imagine. I would quite like you to know that I am well aware of whatever it is you are up to. I will keep my distance to keep you all safe whilst stating my disapproval. I most certainly should not be here, and this whatever this is has not happened...."

Whatever she was going to say next she refused to say for the next thing she did, to Andromeda's bemusement was appear by her side and to embrace her. That caused the tears to flow between both the sisters' as they caught up on years worth of hurt and mistrust. She'd not realised how much she had hurt her younger sister by going, but she hugged her tighter when that realisation kicked in.

"... I never meant to hurt you Cissy..." She began but the witch shook her head.

"Forgotten and forgiven dear Andie. Now I must take my leave. You take good care of yourself and maybe one day we will be back in contact, until then stay neutral and stay hidden. There's quite the reward upon your head for your return. Of which I want no part of so if my word is worth anything to you these days know that I will not be partaking in any conversation that involves yourself or your husband. He is indeed quite the smitten one from what I am aware of..."

How she knew that Andromeda wasn't even too sure. She wasn't even sure of that particular scenario even happened. It never felt real but it was one her mind needed to give herself closure on things. Narcissa wasn't one to accomadate feelings very well. Her demeanour could be very ice cold at times from what Andromeda remembered. So she put all that down to the painkillers that were helping her get by as she lasy in the hospital bed.

Ted stayed by her side for every minute of the day that she was in the hospital. Holding her hand and keeping her comforted. He wanted her to know that she wasn't going through this alone. She even told him about what she had then decided was a bit of a hallucination from the painkillers. They decided to keep it between themselves for if it indeed had happened he decided that he didn't want to use that information against her. It had been after this that the intelligence about surveilance upon them both had started to come in.

"So where do you fancy being?" He asked her as he cradled his coffee mug in his hands, allowing the warmth to spread over his hands.

"I'd quite like to be by the coast again. Maybe an uninhabited Scottish island would seem almost idyllic. Somewhere we tell no one about, well very few whom we trust with our lives I expect. Somewhere where we can be the married couple that we are. Somewhere safe enough to be able to raise a family. How about yourself?"

"I could definitely do uninhabited island and definitely could do somewhere near a beach. Not too sure if that kind of island is family friendly however."

"Highly likely not but you did ask. I'll have a look and see what is possible." She smiled as she sipped her coffee. "... Thank you. I know I haven't been that easy to live with but I do appreciate your being around. However frustrating it was at the start!"

"Oh you really didn't like me back then!" He joked

"Still don't!" She laughed as he found himself pulling nearer her, before wrapping his arm around her.

"Love hearing your laugh and seeing you smile. Not seen that for a bit."

"Not felt like it. But it's the beginning of creating a new start for us both."

[vclatiles]

caelestiasolis·:

Whereas Mary’s words once upon a time would have caused Celeste to be forced into a position of discomfort, doing her utmost best to maintain her calm and collected appearance she had worked so hard on, by now nothing but a small chuckle would come from the witch. Long gone were the limitations she’d had at Hogwarts, especially when seated within the confines of her own home. Celeste Travers no longer allowed things to slip from under hand, from within her control. “Hmm,” She smiled but they both knew that it was a gesture that hid more than it showed. “People can surprise you. I seem to notice it every day.” She flicked her wand, letting the tea float over. “Tea? I can’t let a guest go without offering them some form of refreshment.”

No matter the years, truth was Celeste hadn’t forgotten any of the times that Mary had acted as though they were the best of friends, nor had she ever lost track of the many times Mulciber had teased her. Well, teasing seemed almost too mild a word to describe just how far her fellow Slytherin had gone when it came to the Gryffindor in front of her. “I’ve found that all time spent apart from your friends is too much time. Could never go for too long without a good friend.” She paused, that perfect timing. Enough time to observe the other. The tension within the room was clear yet the witch hardly minded it, nor did she care. “Like Mulciber for example. Such a dear friend. Don’t know what I’d do without him.”

A shrug. “Well, don’t let me prattle on for too long about the good old days. I would hate to bore you.” Her delicate hands moved, one pointing toward a letter, folded yet not sealed. “I’ve heard about your healer training. Thought I should help and perhaps give you a little bit of a boost.” Nothing came without its price when it came to Celeste. Unless you were someone the former Slytherin would consider among those she cared for; those she supported. “I’ve added my own. The name should be enough to grant you as much access as you need. Just in case, though, I have taken the liberty to reach out a family friend. He’s one of the leading names within the medical field, friend of the head of St. Mungo’s. That should surely get you into anything required for expanded studies, no?” Celeste knew it would. The witch wasn’t blind to how society treated people of lesser blood.

It was cruel to take such enjoyment in the power this provided, nor the amusement she’d gotten out of Mary’s reaction to seeing Mulciber within the confines of the home she had been invited to yet to Celeste that was almost enough to make it worth it. After all that time it almost felt like payback for all those times that she herself had been forced into a position of discomfort due to the other. So, all she could do was smile, the meaning entirely different than what it may have looked like.

- -

Mary thought for a moment, pursing her lips. “I’d love a tea, thank you. It would be inappropriate to refuse, of course.” Though her tone suggested otherwise, and despite not considering Celeste a friend, much less a person with feelings, Mary knew better than to refuse a request from a person like Celeste, especially since she had no idea what the Pureblood wanted with her in the first place. Had it been a year or two earlier there would have been a fire ignited within her words and Mary would stand a little straighter - her head held high, like Mary didn’t have a care in the world. But it was hard to ignore the weight on her shoulders that Mulciber had piled onto her; and now here Celeste was parading him in front of her as if he was a saint. As if he hadn’t mentally and physically dragged her through hell.

“If you really missed me that much, Travers, you should have reached out sooner. Who would I be if not to lend a helping hand to a friend when they’re lonely?” But there was no fight to her words, instead Mary had deflated within herself the moment her eyes laid on Jason. She settled down in her seat and tried not to visibly show how uncomfortable she felt, plastering on a picture-perfect smile and smoothed out the creases in her plaid skirt to distract her shaky hands.Opening her mouth to slip out a sarcastic retort, Mary fell short at Celeste’s next words, eyes falling on the letter in question curiously; words suddenly stuck in her throat.

Her heart thudded loudly against her chest and Mary was sure it would jump out and flounder across the perfectly manicured room - yet she knew for a fact Celeste would relish in that entertainment. Eyes never leaving the letter as the woman spoke, one question formed in Mary’s mind that there was no getting past - - why? What could possibly benefit Celeste from helping Mary gain an upper hand within her training? It confused her. Mary hesitated for a few moments, finally looking up at Celeste with confusion, and yet curiosity. “Celeste.”

She didn’t know what else to say. “It’s... more than enough.” Her eyes gravitated to the letter again - knowing that without it, she would be useless to the Order. Useless to Lily, James and Sirius. Useless to Peter - Useless to Dumbledore. “Why are you doing this, Travers? What exactly do you get out of all of this?”

[allthemarrowoflife]

i've been in the middle of a hogwarts house identity crisis for a while now and that means i spend my time overanalysing every trait from every house.

so i developed a theory. this is long.

you know how slytherin is stereotypically seen as the traditionalist house, stuck in their ways and their prejudices? that stereotype actually goes very much against the slytherin values. hear me out.

an important trait of slytherin house is adaptability. they're constantly changing to match their environment, they're resourceful and deal well with new situations and ideas, they're cunning and crafty, they know that if a certain behaviour or way of thinking is no longer useful, it needs to be shed, like a snake shedding its old skin.

slytherins's faith is more bound to people than to traditions or cultures or ideals. their loyalty is selective. if they need to drop a belief for the sake of their people (and by that i mean the specific inner circle they're loyal to and protect fiercely, that can mean family, close friends, one s/o or even just themselves), they'll drop it. slytherin house is the one who does what is necessary, not what they feel is morally or traditionally right.

that trait analysis applys to other houses as well. ravenclaws value open-mindedness and constant search for new knowledge. hufflepuffs value unconditional fairness, kindness and acceptance. you know which house has no trait that goes directly against tradition and stubbornness of beliefs? gryffindor.

i genuinely mean no hate, i love and respect them a whole lot, but you can't deny that it makes sense that they would be the house that is most stuck in their ways, traditions and prejudices.

gryffindors are loyal to a cause or ideal. they're prone to a black-and-white thinking, the thought that they need to do exactly what they consider to be the morally right thing, regardless of the consequences. they're determined and tough, persisting courageously and righteously in the ideal they set their mind to. and they're not known to change their minds often.

and that is seen all over the harry potter story. the whole narrative is biased according to what harry is conditioned to believe from the very beginning. ron, who comes from a completely gryffindor family, is extremely biased against slytherins and wholeheartedly believes they're all bad people. be says there is not a single dark wizard that did not come from slytherin house. we as readers, now as not easily influenced 11 years olds, know that that is impossible. all dark wizards can't have been all from slytherin. in fact, pottermore says hufflepuff is the house with the least dark wizards. that implies there have been some there and way more from the other houses. ron is letting his prejudices speak, and those directly influence harry, who instantly sets in his mind the idea that slytherin=bad guys. and that is the way he keeps seeing things throughout the whole series.

of course, he had his reasons. the main slytherin students he was in contact with at first didn't exactly prove his ideals wrong, considering harry is as observing as wall and didn't really pay attention to any children in that house apart from malfoy and his little group made up of children of rich pureblood families. that doesn't mean all slytherin children were mini death eaters, blood supremacists or rich pretentious idiots. that is just the way harry saw them.

the whole series is seen through the perception of gryffindors. hermione is the most stubborn and square character, who refuses to change her mind and accept new differences if she doesn't have full hard reason to. take the way she treats luna for example. or how neville (who is my favourite character by the way so really no hate to him) is genuinely scared of luna at first and doesn't want to sit in the train compartment with her because she seems "crazy" and "weird". fred and george (who i also love) actually boo an 11 year old child during an opening feast because said kid had been sorted into slytherin.

harry, as good a person as he is, is an extremely biased narrator. remus himself, in one of the last books or movies if i'm not mistaken, outright tells harry that he is being blinded by his prejudices and is not analysing the situation properly. hell, even the gryffindor professors are slightly biased. minerva (bless the iconic queen) actually orders the whole slytherin house to be kept in the dungeons during the battle of hogwarts. whether she did it because she thought they weren't trustworthy or because she wanted to shelter them from facing their own death eater relatives, it is still proof that she instantly assumed all the slytherins had evil ties in the war.

did i just put more effort into a whole ass essay defending slytherin and throwing gryffindor under the bus than i put in any of my school work? absolutely and i regret nothing. let me get annoyed at people painting slytherins as the prejudiced villains when "self-righteousness and hero complex" gryffindors are right there shaping their whole lives around their simplistic morals. i am allowed this small joy, okay? just don't hate me for it and disagree if you must. but you shouldn't. cause i know i'm right.

[lordhelpme0-0]

Ikemen Vampire OC: Saint Olga of Kiev

Digital and traditional art form of Olga of Kiev is here~!

Date of Birth: April 12, C.890-925

Zodiac Signs: Aries

Height: 153.9 cm

Occupation: Rus Queen Regent, Saint queen dowager, Widow catholic

Vampiric Type: Pureblood / original line

Ethnicity: Varangian

Name/Titles: Olga of Kiev, Saint Olga of Kiev, Elena (Christian), Eleanor De Lambert (outside name)

Family Relations: Unknown but possibly Vlad grandmother

Personality: She is a calm but cunning women. Does not like small talk easily, and very resourceful. It’s said she has the wits of an owl, and the quickness of a hare. Possible someone you should be aware of. Does not involve herself much with the pureblood society for who knows what. A devoted Christian that will linger in a chapel. She has the aura so mysterious, it’s similar to Vlad in a way. Also, don’t call her babushka…unless it’s from the younger generation in the family blood.

Likes:

quiet - she needs quietness to do her routinely prayers and writing [also loves to plant flowers and herbs]

practically - she been through many things that is in need of quick wittiness and strategic ideas for all her troubles

loyalty - its vastly needed from this mysterious saint

trust - she does not give trust easily and will let people earn it through a myriad of tests

family - she rather care for her family and protect her family honor

flowers (Amarath -[fidelity] especially) - give her houseplant when visiting, it’s Russian customs

Her sons and grandchildren - she very doting and motherly

Dislike:

Blundering fools

Horrible decorum - she’s very old style

Faust unethical experiments - Olga does not take kindly at the mini and secretive deceit of poisoning going around in Vlad castle

Stupidity - basically cause it’s a waste of time for her

Being called granny or gran-gran by anyone who is not family - pray well and pray fast y’all.

Trivia!!!!:

Olga hates Faust, but enjoys the chapel itself

She is very reserved so nobody knows what’s in her head

Comte is wary knowing what she has and could do [seriously, don’t do anything you think she won’t like]

Hates Arthur still for giving her an even number of lilacs. [it’s a no-no, but he learned after that and made up with giving uneven number of flowers in pots after research]

Really hates Leonardo for polluting the area with his cigars, while in turn Leonardo smoke less or outside [she has a very quick sense of smell]

Loves when her grand babies came to give her an arrangement of houseplants and flowers with chocolate

She has grown fond of bittersweet chocolate

She enjoys Jeans Presence as the boy will always seek her out [she’s grown fond of the boy, much to Vlad dismay]

Has met Vlad battle players against Comte own battle players [things Wellington has some sort of weird aggression with his own aggression on Napoleon -key word, thinks he still in the closet but won’t point it out]

The Van Gogh brothers have gifted her an uneven arrangement of flowers and paintings [they been in her good book]

Elderly granny who always has her eyes half closed

Has whacked Vlad in the head many times, even lectured him

See Comte as a good man, still doesn’t understand why he always spend this carelessly

Lines:

“Ah, you must be the girl I’ve heard so many times. Come, take a stroll with this old lady” The middle age women smiled at me. Her eyes twinkling like red sapphires.

“[____], do you not realize who those two men your dealing with?” I quickly looked at Olga in alarm. “What do you mean? Is it Vlad? Or Comte?”

“My blood may pulse for thirst, but my devotion doesn’t taint. Come child, tell me of your wishes.” “I wish..”

Romantic: ???

Storyline plot: <yes>

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Tagging: @pieground @spoopy-fish-writes @yanderepuck

Tagging cause y’all inspired me to do some Ikevamp Oc cause why not..now I have huge list on women..yay!

[jimblejamblewritings]

yes, i’m a squib | part 30.

Summary: Y/N Black has always been a squib, to the dismay of her pureblood family. Cast out to the orphanage at a young age, she thought that was her life. Until her relative Sirius Black breaks out of Azkaban. Suddenly a letter to Hogwarts in thrusted into her hand and Y/N becomes a true part of the magical Wizarding World.

Warnings for the Series: violence, death, light smut, angst, fluff

Pairing: harry potter x black!reader, cedric diggory x black!reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Previous Part | (Series Masterlist)

Harry woke up before you. It was involuntarily when Padfoot smacked him in the face. Harry glared at the cat who jumped off the bed, seeming very satisfied with himself. He let his eyes close again so he could just hold you. You turned in his arms, burying your face in his chest. Harry almost smiled until you whimpered in pain. He wasn’t sure whether to wake you up or not, couldn’t tell if it was your dark senses or not.

You shouldn’t have been able to smell the ocean from the Astronomy Tower but the salty spray was hard to deny as it mixed with earl grey tea. The Hallows symbol burned into the floor causing you to jump. You watched the symbol separate itself into its three pieces. The triangle disappeared, leaving the circle and the line before the circle left. The line flew at you and you ducked. Standing back up, you looked at the window before you felt yourself get pushed out the tower. The scent of lemon drops followed you.  

Your eyes flew open. You looked up at Harry to see a worried face staring back at you.

“I’m okay, I’m okay.”

You grabbed your notebook from your nightstand and flipped it open to the page with the Hallows symbol and the Philosopher’s Stone symbol right next to it. Harry sat up and pulled you into his arms, making sure not to get in your way. He watched you flip to a new page and start to redraw each symbol slowly and deliberately. You flipped back and forth between the old page with the scribbles and the new page with just the two symbols.

“(Y/N), when I went to get rid of the book. I ran into Professor Trelawney trying to get in.”

“What did she want? She keeps insisting I need to at least visit her classroom, always going on about banshees being some of the best Seers.”

“That’s what she was talking about or something about that. She pulled out a card and kept muttering about disaster coming because her cards showed a lightning-struck tower an—”

“What? Harry, I just saw a tower in my sleep. A dark dream, not a normal one.”

Your quill dropped from your hand. You wiggled out of Harry’s arms. He watched you rifle through your trunks. You opened a little deck of cards.

“She gave this to me last year after Christmas… I should’ve listened to her, instead of going with everyone else.”

You threw the deck on the floor and only held the major arcana cards. Harry listened to you recite the prophecy— that he had so much to tell you about— as you pulled cards. The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. One, the magician. Born to those who have thrice defied him. Three, the empress. Born as the seventh month dies. Seven, The Chariot. And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not. Eleven, Justice. And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives. Sixteen, Death. The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies. Eight, Strength.

You laughed. “She repeated herself because she saw a seven and an eight. Eight comes after the seven dies.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Trelawney. She’s terrible at interpretation but her prophecies are perfect. Magician. That’s you, Harry. The empress is your mum. The chariot is… well, I don’t know but Justice is the fight between you and Voldemort. Death is fairly obvious. And Strength. You’re going to need that to stop him.”

You grabbed the tower card and looked at it. It was the Astronomy Tower, no doubt about it. You were in the tower. You smelled the ocean. You saw the Hallows. The line fell out of the tower. You smelled lemon drops. You crawled back on the bed and into Harry’s arms. He looked at the cards with you but didn’t know what he was looking for. Harry figured Trelawney was right that a banshee was one of the best types of Seer because he saw absolutely nothing. You repeated the prophecy again to yourself. You huffed.

“What else were you going to say before I cut you off? I think I need help figuring this out.”

“Dumbledore thinks he found another horcrux and asked me to join him. We’re leaving tonight to get it. Somewhere in a cave off the coast miles from Hogwarts. He says he put extra protection on Hogwarts but he’s taken off the charm that stops you from apparating at Hogwarts. He thinks we’ll need to apparate back.”

Harry felt you stiffen up underneath his hold. You knew that the horcrux must have been the sea that you smelled. Extra protection meant danger or death in the Astronomy tower and you weren’t sure which one just yet. Harry’s fingers drummed against you. You felt him shift before he sighed.  

“(Y/N), Professor Trelawney couldn’t get into the Room of Requirement because someone was already there and kicked her out. She says that it was—”

“Draco. I know.”

“You do?”

“He left the hospital wing when he thought I was asleep, he told me the truth when I caught him. I know about Snape and the poisons and the cabinets.”

You tilted your head back, staring at the ceiling. Harry watched your eyes close as you sighed. Tears slipped from your eyes. Harry tried to comfort you. He murmured it was alright as his hand tried to swipe at the tears that were falling too fast for him to make any progress.

“Even when they kicked me out, Draco always found a way to send me something. A Christmas present or a birthday present. I thought when I first got here, he might act like he didn’t know me but it was like we were six again. He wouldn’t be a Death Eater by choice, I swear. Draco’s not evil. He’s not, he can’t be.”

Harry didn’t say anything because he didn’t know what to say. You had so much faith in your cousin that he didn’t want to ruin it. Maybe you were right, maybe Malfoy didn’t have a choice. So he wasn’t going to tell you his opinion. But he wasn’t going to give you false hope either. You finally stopped shedding enough tears for him to wipe them away. You turned your head to look at him.

“I wanted to hate you because it meant you would be wrong about Draco,” you admitted.

“I know. I’m still sorry for hurting him.”

You looked back at the mess of cards and notebooks that sat on the bed in front of you and Harry. There wasn’t time left. You knew it. Snape’s lessons failed and now you were staring at a problem that you need to answer as quickly as possible.

“I’m technically a professor, would you stay with me in the Alchemy classroom if I wrote a note?”

Harry laughed. “Of course.”

You both slowly untangled yourselves from each other. Harry left to go back to Gryffindor and change as well as grab his stuff. You gave the note to Kreacher and took all your things to the Alchemy classroom. Harry locked the door at your instruction. You had written a note on the door telling all your classes that they were dismissed. Harry watched you erase the entire chalkboard and then draw the Philosopher’s Stone symbol and the Hallows symbol just like you did in the notebook. You wrote Harry’s prophecy above them and the cards they connected to below the symbols. On the side of the board you wrote what you had seen and smelled in your dark dream. You took a step back and looked.

“I thought that the Hallows were opposite the Philosopher’s Stone. One was the highest existence of life and one was the lowest but I was wrong. They’re equal. They’re both the highest existence. Voldemort tried to get the stone to come back, probably to live forever.”

“And now he wants the Hallows to do the same?”

You nodded. “Dumbledore has you hunting horcruxes, I think I’m supposed to hunt down these. Whatever the Hallows are.”

“But why can’t he just tell you?”

“Because he doesn’t know. I don’t think he knows for sure that his plan will work. Alright, what do we know?”

“That Trelawney’s not as crazy as everyone thinks. Voldemort has horcruxes that I have to destroy. He wants the Hallows that you have to find. The Hallows have something to do with avoiding death and you had a dark dream last night.”

“Why would Dumbledore want me to find them? He normally goes to you, Ron, and Hermione. What about this means only I can fi…”

“What is it?” Harry asked.

“I’m supposed to find them, nothing about destroying them… the old man’s insane.” You dropped to search your bag for the children’s book Dumbledore gave you.

“I’m not following.”

“I’m the only banshee known, the only death omen. The Hallows are equal but different to the Philosopher’s Stone. One created an elixir that speaks to life so the other must keep you alive by speaking directly to death.”

You pointed to the story in the book and Harry leaned over to see it. He repeated the title you were pointing to, “The Tale of Three Brothers”. You raced to the board and erased the Philosopher’s Stone symbol so you could separate the Hallows into its three parts.

“I’m a death omen. I speak directly to death and in that story so do the three brothers. That’s the Hallows, Harry. The wand, the stone, the cloak… I’d be a weapon of death if I had them and now that Voldemort is connected to be, he’d be a master of it if he gets them. That’s why they wanted me to learn how to block spells.”

“Did it work?”

“I’m a squib, of course it didn’t. We have one of them.”

“The cloak,” Harry realized. “Do you think mine is the one in the story?”

“Invisibility cloaks have never lasted as long as yours and taken such a beating. It has to be.”

“So we need the wand and the stone.”

“The wand. In my dream, it almost attacked me. Voldemort must be looking for that one.” You looked at the sunlight dwindling and the clock in the classroom. “I’ll worry about this with Ron and Hermione. You have to meet Dumbledore soon. We know what we need now, that’s all that matters.”

Harry nodded. You erased the chalkboard, fearing that someone who wasn’t supposed to might accidentally see it. The two of you left the classroom— Harry going to find Dumbledore and you going to find Ron and Hermione. Your friends weren’t too hard to find. They had been in the Gryffindor common room waiting for either you or Harry since they hadn’t seen you two all day. You didn’t know what mattered enough to explain to them so you only said the basics. There was no question that all of you were going to stay up and wait for Harry to come back. You thought you smelled salt water as you sat on the couch clutching one of the throw pillows. Ron and Hermione looked up when you suddenly jumped up. Earl grey tea and lemon drops flooded your nose and you knew that you needed to go to the Astronomy Tower. You heard the word Flitwick.

“Go find Professor Flitwick and maybe McGonagall. Something bad is going to happen tonight,” you told Ron and Hermione and began running to the Astronomy Tower.

You already heard voices when you got to the Tower. From the window, you could see the Dark Mark in the sky. You saw Dumbledore and Draco facing each other. Dumbledore’s wand was on the floor— your cousin’s wand was pointed at the old man. You had seen this. The triangle, Harry’s cloak, was nowhere to be seen and you knew it meant he was there underneath it. The circle was the stone that wasn’t in the tower as far as you knew. And there was the line on the floor. The Elder Wand from the story. A wand that was in the hands of your Headmaster. You screamed. Draco dropped his wand to cover his ears and Dumbledore merely winced— poor Harry, frozen by Dumbledore’s frozen spell, suffered in place. You ran to your cousin, placing hands on his shoulders.

“Draco, Draco, please. This isn’t you.”

He grabbed at your hands, shaking his head. “The Death Eaters are already here. He’ll kill me if I don’t. He’ll kill our whole family.”

“You can’t come back from this. You will never come back if you do this. Please.”

“Go back to Hufflepuff before they get here, (Y/N). Have Kreacher take you to Grimmauld.” Malfoy removed your hands from his shoulders.

“I’ll never forgive you if you do this.”

“As long as you’re alive.”

“Draco, we can hide you and Aunt Narcissa. The Order can come back to Grimmauld. You don’t n—”

The door burst open to the tower. Your head turned to see Death Eaters with the biggest grins on their faces. The grips on their wands loosened when they saw the sight in front of them, laughing. The two at the very front began a chant congratulating Draco on cornering Dumbledore without his wand. Draco pushed you behind him as the two others entered. You recognized Fenrir Greyback whose nails and sharp teeth were dripping with blood. He laughed at the action.

“I’m not in werewolf form, Malfoy. She wouldn’t turn if I had a little bite. I’ll leave her alive like the Dark Lord promised you.”

You looked at your cousin.

“Did you trade your life for mine?” you asked in a whisper.

The others started laughing. The one who you recognized as Alecto spoke.

“You should be dead anyway. Little Malfoy said he’d do it if the Dark Lord spared you, used you alive instead. He was the closest to the old man anyway. Well done, Draco. Now finish him. Go on!”

You pulled at your cousin’s arm. Draco didn’t have to push you off. A chill ran down your spine and you turned to see Snape with his wand aimed. You screamed but it was too late as you saw the green light jet out from his wand and hit Dumbledore. The Headmaster stumbled out of the window and the scent of lemon drops faded from around you.

Chaos erupted around you. Draco grabbed you and followed Snape. Now that Dumbledore was dead, Harry was free from the frozen spell that was placed on him. He ran to follow. The boy stopped when he saw Snape head one way while Draco took you another. Harry knew your cousin would never hurt you so he took his chances and left you to be taken wherever Malfoy was taking you.

Draco was trying to force you back to Hufflepuff. He knocked on the barrels— knowing the password because you told him every year. You finally got over the shock and screamed, making him let you go. You pushed him and hit him in the chest.

“Why didn’t you let us help you? You should have told me from the beginning!”

“AND HAVE HIM KILL YOU?! Get inside… (Y/N), get inside now!”

“Whose blood did Fenrir have on him tonight?”

Draco couldn’t answer you. He didn’t know that the Order would show up when he let the Death Eaters in. He thought everything would happen quickly and quietly. He was hoping it would because he already knew he had to deal with your banshee senses.

“Kreacher!” you called. The little elf appeared. “Make sure no one sees you and Draco go home, I want no one to think he’s responsible for anything that happened tonight. Lie to everyone. I’ve got to go make sure no one else is hurt.”

You ran to the hospital wing. Most of the Order was gone, probably fighting. You could hear some of the noise outside. But you recognized the redhead laying in a hospital bed. Madame Pomfrey was tending to Bill Weasley who looked so mangled that you only knew it was him by the longer red hair and lack of Hogwarts uniform. Madame Pomfrey was rubbing the thickest and most foul smelling ointment all over Bill, telling you that charms didn’t work on werewolf bites and she didn’t know what else to do.

You shook your head fiercely as the Burrow’s scent began to grace your nose. “He needs stronger.”

The others came running in. You immediately ran to Remus and Tonks and hugged them tightly. Everyone gathered around Bill’s bed. Their only comfort was Remus telling everyone that Bill wouldn’t be a true werewolf because he wasn’t bitten on a full moon. But he wouldn’t be the same. You pulled out your wand and grabbed Harry’s hand to cover yours.

“Accio vials and aloe.”

The last of your bubble lily nectar came zooming into the hospital. You abandoned the squib project anyway for the Hallows. It only seemed right to give up the nectar for something more important— you could always collect more later. You caught the vials in your free hand and went to Bill’s side.

“Can you hear me, Bill?”

He groaned something that you couldn’t identify but was enough for you. You grabbed a rag from Madame Pomfrey and wiped off the ointment. You poured each vial into visible wounds. Fresh blood leaked out of them as they closed up. You wiped off the blood and waited.

“It still smells… everyone cover your ears.”

You turned Bill’s head and screamed in his ear. His eyes flashed open briefly and you moved back, relieved at not smelling the Burrow anymore. You turned his head back, no longer worried that his eyes were closed. Everyone stopped watching you try to tear off a piece of your aloe plant so they could listen to Harry tell them everything. You nodded when asked questions to confirm his story— silently thanking your boyfriend that he never mentioned Draco’s name. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley came running in with Fleur. Mrs. Weasley was a mixture of sobs and thanking you.

“And he was going to be married,” she blubbered.

Fleur turned. “I still love him. It doesn’t matter, I will still love him!”

You stood up and handed the torn piece to Fleur. “Dab the gel over each wound, make sure it’s thick.”

She nodded and handed some to Mrs. Weasley. Both women began dabbing it all over Bill’s face. You felt your job was done and walked out of the hospital wing while the others discussed plans for Hogwarts. Students had heard the fighting. A bunch had gone outside and seen Dumbledore’s body before Flitwick had gotten a chance to move it. There was going to be a funeral and then everyone was going home. No one knew the future any more. Kids weren’t safe outside of Hogwarts but apparently they weren’t safe inside it either. Harry followed you as you went back to the Astrology Tower. You picked up Dumbledore’s wand that was still on the ground, so was your cousin’s.

“Kreacher! Give this back to Draco.”

You held the other wand— the Elder. Harry’s cloak was on the ground where it had been discarded. You kneeled down and folded it into the perfect triangle and placed the wand on top of it. Harry came up behind you, resting his hands on your shoulders.

“That’s two of them. They’re going to bury his wand with him,” you said.

“Shouldn’t you have it? If that’s what he wanted?”

You shook your head. “Voldemort knows Dumbledore had it. Why would he care about killing him before attacking all of us? He needs it. If I take it before he gets it, he’ll just kill me. Draco disarmed Dumbledore and I disarmed him when I screamed. It’s already mine and now we have to hand it over to Voldemort. He can’t disarm me if it’s simply laying somewhere. The wand is mine now.”

“Are you sure?”

You picked up the wand and stepped away from your boyfriend. “Accio stone.”

A golden snitch flew into the tower. You shook it, hearing something inside. You didn’t know how the stone got in there but you knew it was there. You set it down on the cloak with the wand.

“A weapon of death can find another weapon… this is it. When all the horcruxes are destroyed, we use this to stop him.”

“How can we stop him if you give him the wand?”

“As long as I’m alive, it shouldn’t work for him. Not properly… I’m not going to the funeral, I can’t. Not after my d—”

Harry hugged you. “I understand. You should go home completely.”

The two of you dropped off the wand and the snitch in Dumbledore— now McGonagall’s office. Harry continued walking with you to your room. He used his magic to pack up all your stuff. You opened the smallest trunk and pulled out two mirrors. A hand mirror and a small one that would hang on the wall. You stepped on the corner of it so a shard of glass broke off. Finding a cloth, you handed the covered shard to Harry.

“I know you’re not coming back to Hogwarts next year. My dad and I used these to talk while I was at school. I can’t go with you, Hermione, and Ron. I don’t have enough magic, it would be too dangerous. I should stay here anyway. Someone has to try and keep the younger ones safe. We can still see each other this way. Take it now before I don’t have a chance to give it to you.”

Harry took the covered shard and set it on top of the empty dresser so he wouldn’t forget to take it when you left.

“I’ll see you before we go.”

“You will?”

“Bill and Fleur’s wedding,” he said with a shrug.

You chuckled and nodded. Voldemort wouldn’t get a chance to kill you if Mrs. Weasley did first because you missed her eldest son’s wedding. Harry’s hands found your waist the same as yours found his shoulders. You two just looked at each other before hugging each other tightly. The night was too sad to end it with a kiss but you both knew that you needed each other.

(Part 31)...

[camillejeaneshphm]

Philip Yaxley’s profile:

BASIC INFO

Quote by Character: “To change the future, we’ve gotta know the past.”

Full Name: Philip Charles Yaxley

Nicknames: Phil

Gender: Cis man (he/him)

Sexuality: Homosexual

Alignment: Lawful Good

Species: Wizard

Blood Status: Pureblood

Date of Birth: 6 July 1933

Race/Ethnicity: White British

Nationality: British

Short Bio: The second-eldest of the five Yaxley children, Philip is also the second son. He’s content to live in his brother Lawrence’s shadow, and finds his calling in anthropology. 

Personality: Intelligent and soft-spoken, easily spooked 

Languages: English, French, Latin

Likes: Books, parchment, the heat

Dislikes: Oatmeal, loud noises

Greatest Flaw: Shyness

Greatest Strength: Intellect

Place of Residency: 

birth-11: Winbourne

11-17: Alternates between Winbourne and Hogwarts Castle

18-22: London, attending University College

24-retirement: London

Retirement: London

Future Career: Magical Anthropologist 

APPEARANCE

Hair Color: Brown

Eye Color: Hazel

Skin Tone: Slightly tan

Height: 6’0

Weight: 70 kg

Physique: Slightly chubby

Style Choice (what they like to wear): His aesthetic can best be described as dark academia. 

Accessories: An heirloom watch that once belonged to his great-uncle Noah. 

Inventory: His wand, tie pins, a book

Scars: Several old shaving nicks, some acne scars

Face Claim: Ben Rosenfield

Voice Claim/description of what they sound like: Ben Rosenfield

MAGIC

Wand Description/Picture: Maple, Unicorn hair, 11 ¾ inches

[I have often found that those chosen by maple wands are by nature travellers and explorers; they are not stay-at-home wands, and prefer ambition in their witch or wizard, otherwise their magic grows heavy and lacklustre. Fresh challenges and regular changes of scene cause this wand to literally shine, burnishing itself as it grows, with its partner, in ability and status. This is a beautiful and desirable wood, and wand quality maple has been among the most costly for centuries. Possession of a maple wand has long been a mark of status, because of its reputation as the wand of high achievers.]

Wand reaction when chosen: A sunny light

Boggart: Everything he loves gone up in smoke

Riddikulus Form: The fire turns out to be a pranks

Patronus: Owl

Patronus Memory: The love he feels for his family

Animagus: none

Amortentia (what they smell like): Old books, parchment, ink

Amortentia (What they smell): Unknown (she is open to this interaction!)

Mirror of Erised: Himself finally being seen for his achievements 

Misc. Magical Abilities: Wandless magic

Favorite/Created Spells: A memory spell 

SCHOOL LIFE

Hogwarts House: Ravenclaw

Ilvermorny House: n/a

Organizations Joined: Ministry for Magic

Apprenticeships: Intern Anthropologist

Professions: Anthropologist

Best Subjects: History of Magic, DADA, Mugglr Studies

Worst Subjects: Potions

Favorite Teachers: n/a

Least Favorite Teachers: n/a

Class Proficiencies (OWL grade, n /10 or ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆):

Astronomy: A

Charms: EE

DADA: O

Flying: A

Herbology: A

History of Magic: O

Potions: P

Transfiguration: EE

Ancient Runes: EE

Muggle Studies: O

STATS

Power (magic): 6/10

Power (physical strength): 4/10

Intelligence: 10/10

Skill: 8/10

Teamwork: 6/10

Speed: 9/10

Defense: 6/10

RELATIONSHIPS

FAMILY:

Father: Vincent Yaxley (@endlessly-cursed)

Mother: Margaret Yaxley (neè Taylor)

Siblings:

Lawrence Yaxley

Elizabeth “Lizzie” Yaxley

Gia Yaxley

Ruby Yaxley

Friends:

Closest In-Game Friends:

n/a

Closest MC friends:

None yet (open to interaction)

Love interest:

None yet (open to interaction)

Dorm mates:

None yet (four open spots)

Rivals:

None yet (open to interaction)

Enemies:

n/a

Pets: None

[treybriggsthewriter]

This makes me nervous, but I’m going to post it. I’m going to try my best to achieve my goals. I’ve put in a ton of work already, so I’m looking for additional help. 

From the campaign:

My name is Trey Briggs, and I'm a black woman who writes paranormal horror, speculative fiction, and other types of fiction. You can find my stories at MaybeTrey , Astrid the Devil , and on Instagram , Medium , and Wattpad .

My stories are aimed at black people who want to read dark stories that focus on original black characters that are complex and interesting. I genuinely believe Black audiences deserve a variety of genres to delve into, and I want to introduce them to paranormal horror, dark romance, and fantasy that they haven't gotten enough of in the past. I also believe that this can be done across multiple mediums, and I spend my money with black creative professionals to make these experiences extend beyond my words. For the last two years, I've run my stories on sites and Instagram to great reception. I like to craft complex experiences that offer looks at character backgrounds, side and backstories, full websites for each title, and more. I also provide encyclopedias, maps, audio journals, and other ways to get into each world. During these last few years, I've run into a lot of walls, jumped a lot of hurdles, and tried my best. I've worked with amazing black artists, voice actors, and actresses, musicians, designers, and more. I trust my ability to run a project, especially when it comes to planning and finding talent. My overall goal is to run a team of black creatives that crafts novels, graphic novels, audio experiences, and animated series for a dedicated audience.

Why I Need Help Long story short: I have the skill, I have the marketing/website building/business experience, and I have the drive. There's a lot I can do on my own, but there's also a lot that gets left behind because I don't have the money I need to proceed at a steady pace. I need help with funding so I can focus, hire the right people, and craft these stories the way they deserve to be crafted. I have thus far spent over $60,000 of my own money on my projects over the past two years - the writing and site-building are easy for me; the rest has to be hired out. I have art, site costs for hosting, domains, templates, specific plugins, and maintenance, audio (and vocal artists to pay), musical, and editing costs. I'm by no means rich or even particularly financially stable. I have taken on tons of extra clients for my digital marketing business, transcribed hundreds of hours of audio for dirt cheap, and taken out personal loans. I even worked a second full-time job along with my full-time business last year to afford to produce the content I love. It's starting to take a toll on my mental health. I plan on continuing to fund these projects out of pocket (and finding ways to do so), but having financial help, however big or small, would allow me to move a lot faster and with less stress. It would let me flesh out ideas and concepts that I have had to scrap because I can only physically handle so much extra work. I run a full-time marketing business from home, homeschool my autistic 10-year-old, and generally have a busy life. Some of the strain is taking a toll on me, and I don't want to give up. Having some financial backing could allow me to drop a client or two after a few months and focus on the work I love to do.

How You Can Help I mainly need a start—a sort of base. I want to emphasize that I plan to continue to provide the main bulk of funding for my projects. I know my goals are ambitious, and I know each step will take time and money. I welcome any help to make the process smoother and to get around the initial hurdles. I'd like to have ebooks and novels offered on my site by the end of the year (along with the free serials and stories). Funding means that I can broaden the projects, include more free aspects to my sites, and secure direct financing through sales of ebooks and audiobooks sooner. It also means that I can offer MORE stories, whether they are online only or fully fleshed out novels and sites. I am swamped with trying to work enough to cover all my bills and creative projects, so I lose a lot of time I could spend plotting and writing. If I have better funding, I can get my stories out quicker (and with fewer mistakes).

The Initial Stories Let's talk about my stories! If you're familiar with my work already, you can skip to the next section. My main story site is Maybe Trey . Currently, I have two big titles and a bunch of smaller ones that I am seeking help with funding: Astrid the Devil

Astrid the Devil is the complicated story of a girl who inherits not only her family's features and DNA, but their fears, struggles, and fights. It's the story of a condition called Devil Syndrome, the women who suffer it, and the monsters that devour them. It's the story of the fight to save the people you love at the expense of innocent lives. At its core, Astrid the Devil is the story of a woman who inherits the chaos of three generations before her. It's a look at what is truly passed down to our children, and how they're left to fight our battles in the aftermath of our failures. It's the tale of an indescribable monster and the women who struggle to defeat it. It's a journey into how their every decision could save or destroy an entire world. Astrid the Devil is the story of Astrid Snow, but her story can't be told without the story of the women before her.

Vicious: On MaybeTrey  and The Vicious site (in progress)

Somewhere, a war is brewing.  That's the only thing that's for sure to Junnie Gorton, a young horned girl suffering from a debilitating disease called Horn Rot. She typically dealt with her low survival rate and abnormally large horns by escaping the world with her best friend, Lewish. Now she's forced to figure out which side is which, save her entire species, and find out the truth behind the sudden uprising in her home. Horn Rot, a highly contagious and violent disease spreading through horned people, is causing mass amounts of madness and death. Normal horns grow in ways that will pierce, suffocate, and maim their owners, and the only one who can stop it is Junnie's mother, Lyria. As Lyria falls deeper and deeper into an anti-social revolt, the country reels. While Junnie broods, her entire species must prepare for mass extinction. Her brother plots with a group of people with less than good intentions and Lewish is quieter than usual. In a civilization brought up on extreme violence and competition, Junnie and Lewish try their best not to get swallowed by their culture, their lives, or their horns.

Bunni and Bosque :

Bunni lives. Bosque dies. We all know how this story starts. Bunni is obsessed with destruction and death. She comes from the healthiest Horned family in her country. She's from the oldest, purest bloodline in the world. And she's bored with it. Bunni spends most of her time trying to escape her duties as a pureblood. She wants things dirty, messy, foul, inconsistent. Having parents that are willing to kill to keep their bloodline pure is annoying. Knowing that she'll live a long, full life, produce more perfect children, and die unscathed is agonizing. Bunni wants something to mourn. We all know how this story ends. Bosque is destined to die an agonizing death, alone on his family's land. He's watched everyone he loved and grew up with perish. Sometimes it was because of their disease. Sometimes it was because of the malice and hatred of others. While he's absolutely withdrawn and satisfied with his life, Bosque has never had a chance to live it. He spends his days basking in the sun, bathing in wood baths, and contemplating the end. Bosque isn't interested in joining the rest of the world. He'd rather die out, alone, where his family belonged. Bosque wants to go peacefully. But neither expected to meet each other one day in a supermarket. Neither expected to fall in love, lust, and every vicious and dirty thing between. Neither expected to be so right for each other, all while being wrong for everyone else. You know the end of this story. Bunni lives, Bosque dies. But maybe something will change.

My smaller titles, Bunni and Bosque /Aite and Jude, can be found at Maybe Trey .

The Business Plan

The initial phase of my business plan is to get the sites populated with ebooks and audiobooks for sale. I also have prints that can be sold. Right now, I am in the audience-building phase while I save up for editing the full novels. 

In terms of an actual business with which to publish the stories, I already have a registered publication company in Illinois: Wolfless Studios LLC. I took this step earlier this year with plans to self-publish Astrid and Vicious. So that is paid for and done.

I have also gotten initial editing done on the first six chapters of Astrid, though it will need to be edited from the beginning again once everything is said and done. I've spent over $1000 on that so far, and it would go a lot faster if I didn't need to save up to edit each chapter.

Astrid the Devil is fully plotted, outlined, and only needs the last three chapters. Bunni and Bosque and Vicious are newer, but plotted and already deep into character development (all being shared across social and Wattpad for audience growth). Aite and Jude and other shorts are plotted, and three other unshared stories are plotted and at the editing phase.

Other costs and ways I would use the funding (I would still put in my own money and do as much on my own as possible):

Initial $30K

$6000 - $7000 Line and Copy edits for Astrid (currently at 250000+ words/expecting over 300000 at $0.02 rate)

$6000 - $7000 Line and Copy Edits for Vicious

$3000 - $4000 Line and Copy Edits for Bunni and Bosque

ISBN Purchases (Separate ISBN for each format for each book) - https://www.myidentifiers.com/identify-protect-your-book/barcode

Covers for Astrid/Vicious/B&B Print Versions

Site Hosting Costs and Maintenance for 2 Years

Site completion for all stories

Initial store and app development

40K - Marketing and Graphic Novels

Social, Print, and Web ads

Email Marketing Campaigns 

Booths at Decatur Book Festival (depending on COVID)

Social ads and promos

50 to 60 pages

First two chapters offered as free promo with email sign-ups

Audio journals for each character

Situational audio journals

Encyclopedia for Astrid (finishing up)/Vicious

65K - Hires and Next Phases

Ability to hire a Full-Time Editor 

Audio Series for each (professionally done)

Vicious Graphic Novel

Additional Title Added

Short animations for both Vicious and Astrid (with plans to fund more with book sales)

Fleshed out Story Sections (Novellas for each character of each series)

Short comic series with Astrid and Vicious side characters

Possible to plan out monthly subscription service with new stories and 'story package' deliveries

75K -

Astrid the Devil Graphic Novel

Vicious Graphic Novel

Astrid the Devil Animated Short

Ability to hire part-time Web Developer

Additional bigger title

Anything Over - I ascend into pure light. And also, I can add titles, cover more mediums, and eventually expand my publishing to other black creatives.

From there, I should be able to handle the funding via sales of books, comics, audio, and more. Again, I will always offer mostly free content across the sites.

I believe in proof of concept, and I have diehard fans on my social platforms. With no outside funding, I've been able to a lot on my own. I'd love to expand my business into one that does the same for other black authors, artists, voice actors, and animators somewhere down the line. 

Thank you so much for your consideration. I appreciate all my readers, present and future, and I appreciate any help!

See incentives and more on the actual campaign: https://www.gofundme.com/f/help-trey-publish-black-paranormal-horror-stories

Thank you so much!