#Weird Owl Invisibility Cloak | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

angrenwen · 3 months ago

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When dementors glided in rustles and chill quiet onto the Hogwarts Express in the beginning of her third year, Harry went down. She heard her mother scream, her father shout, and Tom Riddle laugh, high and terrible.

Madame Pomfrey had grown back her bones after Dobby’s bludgeoning bludger and Lockhart’s terrible attempt to help. She’d patched Harry up after the third floor passage in her first year, after the Chamber in the second, after the dementors this year, tutting sternly behind her teeth.

After stuffing her full of chocolate, she pulled Harry into her office at the beginning of that third year and said, “You’ll need signed permission from your guardian, but if you’re interested in undergoing magically-aided transition that’s something this infirmary is capable of.”

“But my aunt and uncle, they’re–” Harry started, miserably. She had already had this fight with McGonagall, about Hogsmeade. “They’re Muggles,” she said, but that didn’t explain anything here.

“I’m sorry,” said Madame Pomfrey and she sounded like she was. “But there are restrictions.” She sighed and brushed a hand over the white kerchief tied over her hair. “I’m sorry, Harry. You do go by Harry, right?”

“Yeah,” she said. “That’s fine.”

“Harry,” she said. “Is it alright if I give your contact information to some of the other trans students in the school? There’s been a sort of unofficial mentorship program, between the years, and some of them have asked about approaching you.”

“Uh,” said Harry. “Um, yeah?”

Madame Pomfrey made a little note on her clipboard.

Harry had thought about changing her name– to Lily, maybe. But she liked the way Harry sounded– shouted across Quidditch pitches; hissed by Ron outside her barred window in a flying car, freckled and grinning-wide; the name her parents had given her. It was hers. Very little was hers– Hedwig, a locked bank vault she’d happily trade for two living parents– but this was.

“Weird little Potter!” Draco said loudly from Slytherin table, after. “Girly after all, fainting like that.”

“You know,” said Fred, leaning in close to Harry. “Draco came running, crying, into our compartment, after.” Harry snickered into her mashed potatoes.

Lupin had gotten a letter in Hermione’s certain hand about Harry’s proper pronouns, just like every teacher in Hogwarts had. When Harry came to him for help with the dementors, Lupin fetched a boggart and taught her about Patronuses. He also stopped her one day, and handed her a scrap of paper.

“These are the addresses of some friends of mine,” Lupin said. “They’re like you. If you wanted to send them some letters, by owl post, I’m sure they’d be happy to write back.”

The Patronus was hard, not because Harry didn’t have happy memories buried in her, but because this was the only chance she had ever had to hear her mother and her father. Even in fear, even in their last gasped desperations, she wanted to know them.

But she couldn’t let anyone take Quidditch from her– so she thought about flying. She squeezed her eyes tight. But it wasn’t quite the right kind of happiness, so she woke up on Lupin’s office floor and he gave her some chocolate.

Sometimes Ron wasn’t there to snap at hissed taunts. Sometimes Harry didn’t feel like snapping back her own self, as sharp and vicious as she knew how to be. Sometimes she wanted empty spaces, and so she’d grab the Invisibility Cloak and just go– climbing up towers, counting cobwebs, sitting unseen at the feet of suits of armor and imagining ancient old battles.

One chill afternoon in her third year she grabbed the Cloak and went out to the grounds. She thought about going to Hagrid’s for tea, or taking a nap in his overgrown pumpkin patch, but her feet turned her toward the greenhouses.

The door to the non-dangerous greenhouses was not locked. it creaked open under Harry’s hand. Inside, the glass walls dripped with condensation, the ground steaming, the air enfolding. It had been brisk outside but Harry felt her shoulders relax into the warm. She shut the door behind her and then froze.

“I know you’re there, sweetheart,” said a round, bright voice. Despite its robust cheer, the voice did not shatter the peace so much as fill it, like it was just an extension of the sunlight streaming through the glass.

Harry squeezed the Cloak more tightly around her, turning. Professor Sprout had been working quietly at a bench, filling ceramic pots with rich soil, drainage, and cuttings. She looked up, smiling, at the rustle of fabric, and Harry let her hood fall back. “Sorry, I–”

“Little Miss Potter,” said Sprout, her smile not flickering. “Want to do some potting?” She chuckled to herself.

So Harry folded up the cloak and sat on the rickety bench beside her. Sprout told her about root systems– how they can be deep, or wide and shallow, or thick and hoary, breaking stones over years and years. She told Harry about molds and aphids, about trellising and types of soil.

When Harry wanted peace, sometimes she grabbed her cloak and walked, unseen, wherever she wanted. Sometimes she came here.

Sprout talked, a bubbling little chatter that touched every leaf and sprout in the space. She also listened. Her hands streaked with dirt and green juices from careful cuttings, Harry told Sprout, haltingly, that she felt unnatural, strange, terrible.

“Do you really?” said Professor Sprout. “Or is it just the things that other people say?” She pulled a trowel gently from Harry’s sticky hands and set it on the table. She pushed Harry’s growing bangs out of her eyes– her mother’s eyes, they said. “Because you, my dear, are natural.”

She touched Harry’s nose and left a streak of dirt on it.

Sprout said, “This nose? All skin and blood and cartilage, just like any other nose. This hair? Did you know it’s all dead, hair?” Sprout patted her own voluminous bush of grey hair. “Fingernails, too. Do you know about shelled creatures? Have you been to the sea? But all those shells, one shell, two shell, they build them out of themselves, these old dead lovely things. The heart is alive, the flesh, but they build themselves homes to carry on their backs.” She scrubbed at her cheek, leaving her own streak of dirt. “I think I got distracted.”

“Dead things?” offered Harry.

“Oh!” said Sprout. “Yes, I have it.” She leaned forward, smiling, with her big cloud of hair, her thick nose, her rumpled, rolled-up robes. “You’re perfect. Ignore the rest of them.”

When Madame Pomfrey’s unofficial mentorship program contacted Harry, she didn’t immediately recognize it. She stiffened, she kept her fork firmly in hand, and she eyed Blaise Zabini warily. He smiled at her and said, “Could I join you?”

“This isn’t your table,” Ron said, glancing over from his chess game with Dean down the table.

“Madame Pomfrey sent me,” Blaise continued, still smiling. Harry blinked and looked at him more curiously.

“Harry, you good?” Ron called.

“Yeah,” Harry said slowly. Blaise sat down, poured himself some tea, and grabbed a piece of toast.

Harry kept gripping her fork, watching him closely.

“You already don’t like me, don’t you?” Blaise said, stirring his tea with a small spoon he must have brought himself.

“I haven’t had the best experiences with Slytherins.”

“What do you know about Slytherin?” Blaise asked.

Harry considered him, his slight smug smile, his perfect hair, his perfectly casual shoulders. Blaise was a teenager, his legs a little too long and his acne as spelled away as he could manage. Harry shrugged and said, “Voldemort killed my parents. Yesterday Malfoy tripped Ron and he fell in a hedge.”

“Ah, Draco,” said Blaise. “You know, last week Pansy conjured a bee into the Common Room, because he’d said something about her nose, and the poor lad shrieked and ran like a girl.”

“Hey,” said Harry. “I’m a girl.”

“Like a Draco, then,” said Blaise, and Harry grinned.

The twins gifted her with the Marauder’s Map– she had two unsigned permission slips in her pockets and they could help with one of them. She snuck out to visit the candy shop and the Three Broomsticks, with Ron and Hermione, once with Blaise, who spent the whole time explaining old wizarding families’ rules of comportment.

When Blaise figured out she didn’t know the first things about make-up, hair, or other skills– “Of course,” he said. “I should have known. Who would teach you? That Granger girl?”

“Careful, Blaise.”

“Or Muggles?” He shuddered.

“I’ll let that pass but only because it’s Aunt Petunia,” said Harry.

When Blaise learned that, he dragged her up to a fancy Slytherin prefects’ bathroom (“You’re not a prefect.” “So?”) with a bag full of supplies. “I know all of this,” he said.

“How?” said Harry.

Blaise smiled. “My mother is quite the lady,” he said. “She’s caught four husbands, and she was rather ready for me to continue the family business of collecting inheritances.”

“Did she take it well? You turning out to be a boy?”

“Oh, there are plenty of rich heiresses about, too. Present company included, of course.” Blaise winked. “And knowing how to primp a lady is as useful in being one as in catching one. If you can talk a good talk about contouring, and walk a good walk about bra sizings, well, you make a lot of friends.” He waggled his eyebrows.

“You’re not my type, Blaise.”

“I don’t curse and spit enough, do I? You want a sailor, I can tell. You’ll wrestle in meadows instead of picnicking, and have romantic dates all painted up and hollering at Quidditch matches. Ugh, I can see it now. Matching tattoos. Home improvement projects done by hand. The sort of dog that slobbers on things. Maybe a goose.”

“A goose?” said Harry.

“Excellent watchdogs. Unfriendly, loyal, a little smelly.”

Harry had a watchdog that year, though she didn’t know it. Sirius was there to see how James and Lily’s child was. He was also there for Peter. That was the choice, wasn’t it? Was he here to watch the living, or avenge the dead? Or to avenge himself?

In the Shrieking Shack, Ron went pale with pain on the bed, and Hermione flushed with upset. Harry stepped between her father’s best friends and his worst betrayer. In any world, she wanted them to be better than this. And for her, they were.

But it was not fair– it never had been fair. They did the right thing and still the moon rose. They let Peter live, and so he turned and ran, taking Sirius’s alibi with him. The dementors swarmed. Harry tried to think happy thoughts– about warm future homes she now wouldn’t be able to have, about winning the Quidditch House Cup, about Christmas morning, the first time there are been presents, real presents for her– and the world went black anyway.

But sometimes you get second chances. Hours later, or at the same moment, depending on your frame of reference, Harry stood on the edge of a freezing lake and watched herself begin to die on the other side.

She was the only one who could do this, and so she did. She thought about the thick heat of the greenhouses and the way the plants breathed. She remembered chess with Ron, and full plates around the battered kitchen table of the Burrow, and Hermione pouring over books trying to find the words Harry needed.

White burst from her wand. They set two innocent souls free that night, and Harry went home to the Dursleys.

When Sirius looked at her, he would still see James. He tried to see Lily, and when Harry smirked just so, he could. Those were her eyes, after all, and her heart. He called his goddaughter Harry.

To their train home from school that year, Sirius sent a small unnamed owl. It carried a letter, and two permission slips signed by Harry’s legal wizarding guardian– one for Hogsmeade and one for Madame Pomfrey.

Harry wrote letters all summer– to Sirius, with his bright-plumaged messengers; to Ginny, about Quidditch, about Dudley getting stupider, about whatever Muggle artifact (a ball point pen! a push lawnmower! a calculator!) Arthur had brought home from work that week; and to Lupin’s friends. One of his friends wrote so academically she had to get Hermione to help her translate. Another used terribly foul language that Harry stored away for future need. The last reminded her of Molly Weasley, quite a lot, up to the worrying, but was much better at understanding what was going on.

Molly tried her best. When Harry had told them, Arthur had asked excitedly, “is this a Muggle thing?” and Hermione had hurried out a “no!” and a frantic history of gender diversity in the wizarding world.

“It’s just that I’m a girl,” Harry had said. and Arthur had nodded and asked her about how telephone booths worked. He would call her by the right pronouns until the day he died at the respectable old age of one hundred and thirty three, and he would make it seem easy.

But Molly had to try. Hermione explained things faster and higher-pitched every time Molly messed up a pronoun, which was often. Molly frowned and muttered and put extra potatoes on Harry’s plate at breakfast. Harry slept on Ron’s floor at the Burrow, which didn’t bother either of them but which made Hermione scowl and scowl.

Harry got boxes of sweets and holiday presents and warm hugs, as Molly chewed things over. For her fifteenth Christmas, the Weasley sweater she would receive would be a bright, friendly, terrible pink.

The next time Harry visited the Weasleys, for the Quidditch World Cup, Molly put her on Ginny’s floor with Hermione to sleep– for some definition of sleep that involved Hermione hissing threats at three in the morning if Harry and Ginny didn’t shut up about Wronski feints, do you know what time it is.

“Next time,” Hermione muttered heatedly at breakfast, staring down into a steaming mug of tea, “I’m sleeping in Ron’s room, or Bill’s, or outside with the gnomes.”

(She didn’t. Molly dug up a pair of earmuffs from the attic for her, and Harry scooted close to Ginny’s narrow cot, crossing her arms on the edge of the mattress, cheek on her bicep.

They whispered until morning: “Krum’s dive!”

“But the Irish Chasers, Harry. Did you see that no-look pass?”

Death Eaters had come marching through the Cup, but they would both, even now, especially now, rather talk about Quidditch. Harry rubbed her forehead. Ginny rubbed her writing hand, massaged the callused dent that her quill had left on her middle finger.).

Harry had been letting her hair grow out. When she went home for summer, Petunia had always made her cut it– the summer after first year, the second. That summer, after her third year, her limbs strung out and shaking, Petunia had gotten out the scissors and Harry had said no.

She’d been saying no for years, but this time her hand had flexed on her wand. Petunia’s eyes had dropped to the terrible little rod of wood and phoenix feather. “I won’t let you,” she’d said. She hadn’t been sure she was bluffing, and neither had her aunt.

Harry’s head grew heavier, dark curls forming softly around her ears, then framing her stubborn chin. When her name came out of the Goblet of Fire, she wanted to hide behind the short, dark curtain of it, but instead she let herself be pushed to her feet and to the antechamber in the back with the other champions.

When Hagrid showed her the dragons in the forest, the first task, she went to tell Cedric. In games, she believed in fair play. In life, less so, but that was more because of experience than ideals.

“Thanks, man,” Cedric said, warm and bright, and then flushed. “I call girls ‘man,’ too, um, sorry. Thanks, ma'am?”

“Just Harry,” says Harry. “See you on the field.”

She braided her growing hair back into a little horsetail, to keep it out of her eyes when she played Quidditch, or evaded dragons while robbing them of golden eggs. Parvati taught her how to braid, that fourth year, cross-legged on the couches in the Common Room. Harry wondered if her mother would have taught her. She wondered if her parents would have cut her hair short and boyish, every summer. They had died for her– or did they die for a son? Would they have died for her, if they knew?

She paged through the picture album Hagrid had made for her, out on her invisible afternoons curled up behind the greenhouses. She looked at their smiling faces. She wondered what they would have called her.

When they visited Padfoot out in the cave by Hogsmeade, Ron asked him about eating rats and Hermione elbowed Ron sternly. And then Harry wet her lips and squeezed her hands and asked about her parents.

“What about them?” said Sirius.

“Would they have–” Her hair was long now, and she let it fall forward into her eyes, cover her face. “Would they have been good, about all of this?”

Sirius knelt down in front of her, taking her hands. “Hey,” he said, gruff and upset, so young still, though she wouldn’t realize that this man kneeling in the rocky dirt was young, still, even now, until after he was dead. “Hey,” he said. “They loved you so much.”

“That doesn’t mean they’d have understood,” she whispered.

“Yeah it does,” he said. “Harry, hey, it means they would have tried. They’d have believed you, and if they didn’t get it they would have learned how.” He lifted his hand and she let him push her hair back behind her ear.

“Would mom have braided my hair, you think?” she said.

Sirius shook his head and said hurriedly, when her face fell, “No, James. James would have. He did Lily’s hair, whenever they both had time, since the first month they started dating. He got good, too.”

Harry laughed, a little wetly. Sirius smiled and it was a little damp, too. “He’d have braided your hair and taken you flying and spoiled you rotten with presents. If Moony and I didn’t spoil you, first, and Lily didn’t stop the lot of us. Lily would have taught you how to make her famous ginger cookies, and to throw a punch, and how to curse like a real lady.”

“Yeah?” said Harry.

“Yeah,” he said.

Harry had slept in the boys’ dormitory her first three and a half years. On a whim, Hermione snuck her up into the girls’ dormitory before the Yule Ball, to get ready with the other girls, and the Tower let Harry in without a murmur of disagreement.

Parvati turned Harry down for the Ball. “I’m straight,” she said, very apologetically, and Harry stared and then beamed. Parvati blinked, then grinned back and invited her to procrastinate on her homework with her and Lavender by painting their nails. “Lav got this fancy stuff that means the designs will move.”

Padma Patil, much less straight, took Harry up on the offer, but Harry ended up leaving the ball early to go help Lav and Parvati and Hermione move all her stuff from the boys’ dorm to the girls’ dorm. She slept on a pad of blankets on the floor.

“Like a sleepover!” said Hermione.

“A what?” said Parvati.

“It’s a Muggle thing,” said Hermione. “But I never went to any back at my Muggle school. I just heard about them.”

McGonagall, who got tattled to a week later, told them to move Harry back to her old dorm. They didn’t, which McGonagall found out another week later. She sternly supervised as they moved Harry’s things back to the boys’ dorm. “There are rules, Ms. Potter, Ms. Granger, Ms. Patil, Ms. Brown.” Another week later, McGonagall found out they had returned all Harry’s things to the girls’ dorms that very night. This continued.

The Triwizard Cup continued, too. Draco’s badges called Harry names that made her want to shrink. Rita Skeeter’s pen scrawled out coy little concerns about her, only Skeeter wrote 'him.’ Hermione fumed, reading it at breakfast, spitting mad.

Harry picked at her eggs. She went out that afternoon and watered plants in the hot close air of the greenhouses. A friendly little creeping tendril wrapped around her shin, blooming five-petaled little bursts of pink and white, and Harry tried to pretend this was the most important thing in her life. No hedge mazes, no ugly articles, just roots sunk deep, just the way this little thing turned its leaves toward the light.

She dragged Blaise along to tea at Hagrid’s– “You teach me about eyeliner. I’ll teach you about being nice.”

“This dog slobbers,” said Blaise.

“Yes,” said Harry. “Now pet him and tell him he’s a good boy, aren’t you Fang?”

The third task came. Harry knew her curses, her Expelliarmus and her Lumos. She knew how to duck, and how to run. She heard Fleur scream. She saw Krum, moving stiff, unnatural, controlled. She answered the sphinx’s riddle and she made it to the center of the maze.

She had thought this was a game. They called her names, they wrote nasty articles and flashed ugly badges in her face– but this part, on the field, the challenges and the competition– she thought this was a game.

She was used to life being unfair. A cupboard under the stairs, Sirius a fugitive when he could have been her home instead, the way people hissed mudblood at Hermione– she knew about unfairness. But this wasn’t supposed to be like that.

That was a lie– she knew unfairness on the playing field, too. Life had a way of sneaking into her games. Dementors on the Quidditch pitch in the match against Hufflepuff, or Dobby’s demented bludger the year before and her precious broom shattered to splinters. When she had gone into the lake, she would have saved all four of them if she had to. It was a game, but the water was cold, the light green. They had looked dead, floating there, and she had made sure they all made it back to shore.

And so, at the end of it all, she stood there by the Cup with Cedric and they both tried to make a game fair that never had been. Harry had been growing things in the greenhouses for years, now, under the tutelage of Cedric’s own Head of House– the House of loyalty, of fair play, of tolerance. Harry wanted to be brave, to be clever, to be wise, but she wished she could be fair.

They reached out, together– debts paid, favors returned. The hedge maze flickered out and the graveyard rushed into view.

Tom Riddle had thought he had chosen an equal– a half-blood boy, powerful, dark-haired, prophesied, the child of the thrice-defiant. But Harry stood there with wisps of that same dark hair escaping her braid, angry tears on her cheeks for Cedric. The specter from the diary had sneered at her, too, only a little older than she was now and ugly with hate.

But Tom had her blood in him now– blood of the enemy. Her mother’s love. He could touch her and he did, one cold finger to her cheek. She remembered Professor Sprout leaving dirt on her cheek with a friendly warmth, remembered Molly Weasley scrubbing dirt off her face with a brisk absent-mindedness, like she was one of Molly’s own. She wrenched her head away from his grasp.

Tom Riddle thought he had chosen an equal– when their curses met mid-air, the world shook. The light grew. The ghosts came, their deaths ripped out of Voldemort’s wand. Maybe not ghosts, then– memories. Things carried, dead things carried with you, like a shell, like a home that grew and grew with you.

Harry brought Cedric’s body back to Hogwarts, because he had asked her to. She didn’t see Amos Diggory fall to his knees. She didn’t feel Moody take her away, or hear Ginny shout her name. When the teachers came for Moody, for Barty Jr., she noticed but only barely. She got back to her bed in the dormitory, somehow. She went to sleep. She went back to 4 Privet Drive. It was weeks into summer before she woke up enough to cry herself back to sleep.

Ginny’s letters were one of the things that kept her sane that summer. It felt like no one was listening to her. The papers were useless and Dumbeldore was a warning weight on everyone else. Voldemort was back– she had seen him, he had touched her– and no one was listening.

So she told Ginny about the graveyard, in rambling inches and inches of parchment. She threw things on the page– the names she had heard that they would hear in classrooms all the next year; the weight of Cedric’s body, not yet cold; the ghosts who had guarded her.

They were not happy letters, but Harry had never really been after happiness.

Ginny wrote, for the first time, about Tom. In letters smudged a little with dirt from the apple orchard, Ginny wrote about the things he had said, or implied, or what she had realized only in retrospect. She talked about his charm, the layers that lied and then struck, the way it felt when his mind slid slowly into yours. He hated butterscotch, and feared death, and thought he was smarter than almost everyone. She called him Tom.

When Harry came back to school for her fifth year, McGonagall stopped her as she got off the carriages. Harry had been dreaming of Cedric all summer, of green flashes and dry grass and cold stone. She was thinking of a war to come, though she hadn’t named it that yet. She had all of Ginny’s letters tucked in her book bag and it was a welcome weight.

“Yes, professor?” she said, expecting bad news, expecting advice, expecting sympathy she’d just as soon trade for anything else.

“I’ve spoken to the house elves and edited the rosters to more accurately reflect the situation,” McGonagall said. Harry blinked, confused, and McGonagall went on, “Your luggage should be in the fifth year girls’ dorm. A new four-poster has been supplied. I expect no nonsense, Ms. Potter.”

Harry hugged her around the middle and McGonagall, flustered, said, “It’s just my job.”

When they met up in the Hog’s Head to form the DA, the drab tavern filled with robes of Hogwarts black, with yellow scarves and red trim and blue mittens. As Hermione stacked her papers neatly for the eighth time, getting ready to start, the door swung open again to admit three green scarves and three pairs of flushed cheeks.

Blaise smirked at the quiet room. “Sorry we’re late.”

“You’re not sorry,” Harry said. Blaise grinned at her as the Greengrass sisters found places to sit in the crowd.

“I like learning!” Astoria was saying brightly, as Ginny asked the Slytherin curiously about what she was doing here.

“And I like Astoria not doing dumb stuff without me,” said Daphne, eyeing the Weasley twins suspiciously.

Blaise sidled over to Harry, who was trying not to smile. He shrugged fluidly. “Millicent said she’d rather nap, and I didn’t ask Pansy,” he said.

“Thank you,” said Harry. “I’m not sure I’d have let you in, if you brought Pansy.”

The Room of Requirement gave you what you needed. It gave Harry dummys for her students to practice on, gave her books and supplies and wide open space. It have her hair ties when she needed to get her hair out of her face.

Neville tried hardest, of all of them. Fred and George badgered Ginny into showing off her Bat Bogey Hex. Astoria Greengrass and Susan Bones were poor students, always off in the corner getting distracted by fervent discussions of the minute details of magical law enforcement. Daphne looked on, bemused and uncomfortable, while Blaise took quickly to flirting with Marietta and Lavender, sending them off into fits of giggles.

When Harry went out to the greenhouses these days, Neville was there, sometimes, or Hannah Abbott. They didn’t talk, just passed shears and water cans between each other. They didn’t ask about the DA schedule, or Umbridge’s latest edicts, or how each of them got out here as after-hours movement grew more and more restricted. Sprout gave them projects and gentle advice, sandwiches and iced tea (“My grandmother immigrated from Virginia, ages back; yes, it’s rather sweet, isn’t it? Good for the heat in here.”)

Umbridge confiscated Harry, Fred, and George’s brooms and kicked them off the team. Ginny took Harry’s place on the team, though Harry knew from years of summer letters that Ginny would have preferred Chaser to Seeker any day.

Blaise sat with Harry for the first game her team played without her, wrapped up in his green scarf and clapping with polite boredom for any goal, regardless of team. Ginny’s hair was a fiery tail behind her as she bent close over her broom and dove after a flash of fluttering gold.

“She really is quite pretty,” Blaise said.

“Uh,” said Harry. “She. She flies good.”

Blaise slanted a glance over at her and Harry kept her eyes fixed on the field. “I’m really not your type, am I?” he said.

“That’s– that’s not what I,” said Harry. “She’s Ron’s sister.”

“Yeah,” said Blaise. “And she really is quite pretty.” He patted Harry on the shoulder.

As winter moved to spring, that year, Luna took her out to the Forest and showed her the thestrals. They went walking with raw cuts of meat in their hands and Harry remembered nursing black eyes back in her cupboard.

“Sometimes I’m not a girl,” Luna said, casually, in the middle of talking about invisible head-circling mites and what might be on for dessert at supper. “You know. Things just change, sometimes. Sometimes I’m not anything.” Harry was frowning and Luna turned and smiled at her. “I don’t think it’s like that with you. You don’t change much.”

“Don’t I?” said Harry, tucking her hair behind her ears.

“I don’t think so,” said Luna. “I think you’re just you. But you tell me.”

Harry thought about her cupboard again, as they rode the thestrals over a London light to the Ministry. She thought about all the little wounds she had nursed there, in that cobwebbed darkness. She thought about what pains she would be willing to carry, to have a home to go to that loved her as much as her godfather did.

She had once regrown all the bones of her arm. She had gone down under the dementors, their hoods falling back as they stepped in close. She had felt every centimeter of her skin break open under Wormtail’s knife, tied up in that graveyard, Cedric’s body a lump in the dark. She knew about pain. She could cast her Patronus anyway.

Ron and Ginny stomped through the Ministry halls, hair bright, and Harry remembered visions of Arthur, bleeding out on this tile. Hermione’s hair was a cloud, Luna’s a slant of moonlight, Neville’s earth. Harry had been to the greenhouses so much less this year, spending so many spare moments in the Room, nurturing people instead of plants. She was tired. She thought she might always be this tired, and this scared.

A blight, a mold, a dying limb, browning leaves– none of them left that night unscathed. None of them would hate her when they woke up the next morning aching. And they would wake up, the next morning.

They had gone to save Sirius, and Sirius wasn’t there. But he came– wand out, hair wild. He was young. He would always be young. She would spend more of her life remembering him than knowing him.

A flash of green. Sirius went backwards through the Veil and Harry watched him go.

It’s silly, she wrote to Ginny that summer, curled up in the hedge where no one could find her, but I really thought that one of these days he was going to come take me away. I thought I’d hear the motorbike coming down the street. You know Hagrid brought me here on that motorbike? All the neighbors would come to their windows and stare, because no one has motorbikes in Privet Drive. And I would know it was for me, and open the door, and he’d say “get your things, kiddo,” and no one would be able to stop us.

Do you want me to borrow Dad’s car? Ginny wrote back. Just say the word.

The next year, Voldemort was still back but this time people believed her. The year went slow. She flew through Potions with the help of a textbook that Hermione didn’t trust. Neither did Ginny. “It just makes me nervous,” Ginny said. “Books with personality. You know.”

“Oh,” said Harry.

“Just be careful.”

Ron started dating Lavender–loudly–and that made for an awkward sixth-year girls’ dormitory. Parvati kept saying pointed things about Hermione’s aura while Hermione snapped back about psuedo-magic. Harry practiced her Silencios. They didn’t fight much when she was trying to sleep, but she was still having nightmares.

Dumbledore had been telling her bedtime stories about the Gaunts, about young Tom and the pieces of his soul. Harry had faced Voldemort, now, more times than almost anyone else had and lived. She was sixteen years old and she was tired.

The next time Blaise tracked her down, planning to laze about by the Lake with a bag of sweets from his mother, Harry sat quietly on the green grass for a long time. Blaise filled the silence easily, but she could feel him keeping an eye on her.

“Why did you come up to me?” Harry said eventually. Blaise stopped hypothesizing about the Giant Squid’s intelligence level. “You’re friends with Draco and his lot,” Harry said. “I know you are. Your family– they’re not on my side of the war, are they?”

“This is school,” said Blaise. “Not war. Schoolyard taunts. It’s not that big of a line to step over.”

“Yes, it is,” said Harry. “Why did you?”

Blaise tipped his head back, leaning on his elbows. When he stood up his robes wouldn’t be a touch grass-stained. “It’s about sticking with your people, right? Packs, cliques– no that’s not quite what I mean.” His voice had gone soft, thoughtful. “A Hufflepuff girl did this for me, once. Nymphadora. She…” He shook his head. “She didn’t have to. And Madame Pomfrey talked about, you know, paying it back– you get, and you give back.”

“That’s not it.”

“I know it’s not. Let me finish.” He tipped his head back further, not looking at her. “I am not kind– she was kind. You, also, are not kind, but you’re good, and I am not good. But you’re my people. I have been where you are, or something like it. There are things about me that Millicent and Daphne are never going to quite understand. But I recognize me, in you, and that means something to me.”

“You’re very strange,” said Harry.

Blaise smiled, dropping his chin. “You’ll meet my mother, someday. You’ll understand.”

She thought about taking Blaise to Slughorn’s dinner party, but for all they were friends, they were still friends quietly. She asked Luna and beamed when Luna offered to lend her some earrings, so they could be matching.

Harry thought, later, that she should have known Dumbledore didn’t plan on coming back from that rock in the sea. There was something in the way he stood, maybe, or the way he smiled at her. Those crescent-moon glasses, that long nose, the way he had been dropping stories in her hands all year and making her carry them.

But she didn’t know, when he asked her to come with him, when they Apparated out, when the salt wind struck her in the face with a cold slap. He told her her blood was more precious than his, and she still thought he wanted to be okay. He drank from the poisoned water, and she still thought he was going to come home. On the Astronomy Tower, Harry frozen under their feet, Dumbledore begged Snape– not for his life, but his death.

But Harry didn’t know that then. Dumbledore did. Snape did. Harry ran down the lawn after him, lit by fire and magic, hoarse with grief.

Her hair was long. Her eyes were green, furious. When Snape looked at her, he saw Lily. “I am not a coward,” Severus said, and Harry screamed in his face.

They buried Dumbledore. Harry had never been to a funeral before. There hadn’t been one for Sirius.

Before they left for the Horcrux hunt, before Ginny and Neville and Luna and Blaise boarded a train back to Hogwarts, there was a celebration. Bill Weasley, partial werewolf, married Fleur, partblood veela. “Their kids are gonna be so pretty, and eat so much rare steak,” Hermione said thoughtfully.

Luna came in a yellow dress. “It’s lucky,” she told Harry and Harry resisted the urge to say, “Good, they might need it.”

Fleur was luminescent. Harry was not surprised, but she skirted the edge of the happy, anxious crowd. She brushed her palms down the dress Blaise had taken her out to find, which was a green just a shade darker than her eyes. Maybe that was a lucky color, too. Maybe she just looked good, standing here with her hair all brushed out and loose, and that felt nice in the middle of all of this.

She stayed on the edge of the tent, watching Luna and her father waggle their arms and turn in circles, watching Bill beam in Fleur’s direction without stopping, his scars creasing. Ginny came over with her bridesmaid’s skirts all bunched up in her hands and bumped Harry’s shoulder. “You look pretty,” Harry said.

“I hate skirts,” Ginny said, dropping the fabric with a grimace. “You look lovely. I like the green. Want to dance?”

All that year, Harry wrote Ginny from that road.

They didn’t kiss at the wedding, but Harry thought about it. She thought about the way their hands touched, dancing, and how close Ginny was standing. She thought about what it might be like after the wedding, as people put out the candles and took down the tents, as they walked home. She thought about taking Ginny’s hand in hers, slowing their stride so everyone moved ahead and left them under the quiet sky, starlit, what it might be like to turn and tip her chin up a little and lean in–

But the wedding ended in warnings, a scattering to the winds. Hermione grabbed Harry’s hand and Ron’s. Their quest began. And so here Harry was, curled up in their tent while Ron fiddled with the radio and Hermione inventoried her bag of plenty.

Harry scratched out letters she couldn’t send, talking about the rocks they slept on, about Ron’s hunching shoulders, she and Hermione braiding each other’s hair, the landscapes Harry had never seen before, how tired she was of prepackaged pumpkin pasties, how bright the stars were this far from human lights. She wrote, I think I would have tried to kiss you, after the wedding. I like to think I would have been brave enough. She had no way to send them, so she didn’t.

R.A.B– Regulus Black had died in the name of Voldemort’s death. Harry turned the locket over and over in her hand, once they’d freed it from Umbridge’s ownership. So had Dumbledore. Her parents had died for her life. She thought, if it came to it, that she would die to stop Tom Riddle, but she’d rather live for the people left behind than die for them.

Before she had left Hogwarts for the Burrow and then this long cold road, she and Blaise had gone out to sit beside the lake. She had told him, “The Hat offered me Slytherin,” and he had laughed.

“See?” he’d said. “I told you you were one of mine.”

Blaise did not sit with Dumbledore’s Army on the Express back to Hogwarts. He shared a compartment with Daphne and a displeased Astoria, who had wanted to sit with Susan. “She got to sit in on some Wizengamot sessions this summer,” Astoria said. “She was going to tell me all about it.”

Blaise watched one of the Carrow twins pace the corridor outside and said, “We don’t want them to see us friendly with troublemakers.”

“But we are friends,” said Astoria.

“And good friends take care of each other,” said Blaise. “Let’s be good.”

Snape, as Headmaster, was rarely seen. Alecto and Amycus Carrow ran the school. It was the smallest first year class Hogwarts had seen since the height of the First Wizarding War. “Defense Against” was taken off the class title of DADA.

Hannah Abbott and Anthony Goldstein took charge of the first years, learning every name and nightmare, checking in with chocolate and comfort, and deciding which ones needed to be disappeared. Neville and Ginny were hiding in the Room of Requirement before the first month was out, and they took in the kids who needed it.

Susan Bones and Justin Finch-Fletchley were the best at lying low, playing nice, and so they stayed out in the open the longest (excepting all the Slytherins but Astoria, who went into hiding around month two, after she cursed Alecto for making a third year cry). Blaise smiled and flattered and made Amycus laugh. He passed on what secrets he learned, stole what supplies he could, and slipped laxatives into the Death Eaters’ tea.

Sequestered in the Room, busy setting traps and causing trouble, Neville and Hannah couldn’t make it out to Sprout’s greenhouses. A new doorway opened off the Chamber the first time Neville buried his hands in his hair and tugged hard enough to hurt. Inside were pots of dark soil, benches of tools, packets of seeds. Every wall was windows, even the one that led back to the main Room. They were cloudy and impossible to see through, but the sunlight streamed in and the air steamed.

Blaise did not sleep one night in the Room of Requirement. He played chess in the Slytherin Common Room with purebloods who thought Hogwarts was finally getting its act together. He recognized their sneers and it was easy to copy the tilts of their smug chins.

He did not sleep one night in the Room, but he snuck out of his dormitory to spend many sleepless nights there, pouring over shifting maps of Hogwarts, advising on traps and enemy positions and timing, the things he had heard them planning. Susan Bones took notes in court shorthand. Ginny listened close and drew up their battleplans. Blaise told the younger kids bedtime stories, the ones his mother had told him, the ones where the clever little kid always always wins. He got back to his bed before sunrise, most of the nights that he did that, and slept through History of Magic, but that honestly wasn’t new.

Out on the road, Ron left, and came back, and struck the locket down in the forest with the sword of a true Gryffindor. Hermione pulled miracles from her bag. Bellatrix Lestrange wrote Mudblood into her arm. They found Luna and lost Dobby, and then they went home.

When Harry came back to Hogwarts, she had a messy bundle of letters tied together in the bottom of her bag. She had a destroyed locket, a cup, and an idea where the diadem might be.

Voldemort’s ultimatum hanging over all their heads, Pansy Parkinson gave up Harry Potter in the Great Hall, her finger pointing, her hands shaking. “Why not?” Pansy said. “Just give him Potter.”

Gryffindor raised their wands on her; then Hufflepuff; then Ravenclaw. Their backs were to Harry, black-robed shoulders like shields. The school decided to fight, and McGonagall told Slytherin House to go wait in the dungeons for it to all be over.

Blaise was turning his wand idly in his hand, eyes slanted down. Astoria rose up on her tiptoes in outrage, but it was Susan Bones who stepped forward. “No, Professor,” Susan said, and McGonagall’s brows furrowed. “They’re part of this fight, too.”

Daphne pulled out of the crowd to stand by Astoria’s shoulder. Hannah Abbott stepped over, then Anthony Goldstein, the Creevey brothers, and Seamas and his singed eyebrows.

“We’ll send the others out one of the passages,” Susan said. “To Hogsmeade. Somewhere safer than here, if they don’t want to fight with us. Anyone, from any House, who’s afraid to stay, we’ll send them.”

McGonagall raised the statues and protections with Flitwick while Slughorn escorted first and second years, some scattered other students, and the bulk of Slytherin House out the tunnels to Hogsmeade. Blaise stretched out his wrists while Astoria and Susan sat with their shoulders pressed warm together, waiting.

Harry had a diadem to find, and Hermione and Ron a bag of basilisk fangs to hunt down. Ginny had a small army to marshall, but Harry hesitated beside where Ginny was tying her hair back and arguing with Seamas about explosives.

“Hey, um,” said Harry. Seamas glanced between them and then headed off, calling something acquiescing over his shoulder.

“Hey,” said Ginny. All around them, the Hall was a flurry of preparation fluxing around small quiet pockets of people touching each other, saying good luck and maybe goodbye.

Harry dug through her bag until she found a stack of folded papers at the bottom, tied with twine. “Uh,” she said, “I couldn’t send them, but,” and she pushed the letters in Ginny’s direction.

Ginny, smiling, took them with one freckled hand but she reached out her other, touched Harry’s jaw, and kissed her.

“I wrote you, too,” she said, when she pulled back. “But I don’t have them on me, you sap.”

“I’m carrying everything I own,” Harry protested. “I’ve been camping for months.”

“I don’t have them on me,” Ginny repeated. “I’ll give them to you later, so you make sure there’s a later, okay?”

Harry smiled. She didn’t know, yet, about Snape’s last story, about the pieces of soul that lived quietly in her marrow. She didn’t know her death would be the cost of Ginny’s life, so she said, “I’ll do my best.”

Daphne and Astoria got separated in the first half hour of the fight– holding a fiercely contested corridor with flung curses, they saw a trio of robed figures heading for the back of a pack of Ravenclaws. “You go,” said Daphne. “I’ll guard your back.”

Professor Sprout rose grasping, suffocating weeds out of the stones of the main courtyard, Neville and Hannah guarding her back. Out in that mess of crushed greenery, Colin Creevey took down three Death Eaters and then took an Avada Kedavra to the chest.

Fred died laughing. Tonks and Lupin went within moments of each other. Parvati and Professor Trelawney carried Lavender’s body back to the Hall.

Harry watched Snape die out in the boat shed, ugly and drawn out and painful. She learned about where the last piece of Voldemort’s soul was hiding, unknown even to him. There was a choice here, but she could only see one answer she could live with. Well, not live with, or at least not for very long.

She wrapped herself in the Cloak, like she had at thirteen, looking for peace in empty spaces and invisibility. The greenhouses were dark shapes in the night, making the stars behind them go wavery as their light moved through warped glass.

Under the bowed limbs of the trees, she turned the Stone over three times. Ghostly figures rose into view– the family she might have had in a kinder life. James smiled. Sirius looked tall, and clean, and rested, and still far too old for the bare three decades he had lived. Harry had seen Lupin just a few hours before. Harry had seen Lupin just moments before she had pulled on her Cloak and walked out to die– his body on the Great Hall floor, beside Tonks.

Lily’s ghost reached out and touched Harry’s cheek as though she’d like to push her hair back out of her face. “You’re beautiful,” she said. “We are so proud of you.” Harry couldn’t feel her mother’s fingers on her cheek, but she could see her mother’s trembling, translucent smile.

Warm hands had touched her cheek over the years. It wasn’t like knowing her mother– not the sunlight of Professor Sprout’s greenhouses, or the full plates at Molly’s– but she knew what this touch was supposed to feel like, and that was something. That was hers: Sirius, kneeling in a cave outside Hogsmeade, pushing the hair out of her eyes and telling her her parents loved her.

“Mom, I’m scared,” she said. “Were you scared? I’m sorry. You died so I could live, and I can’t, I’m so sorry, I can’t.”

“Of course I was scared, baby,” she said. “But it was worth it. Everything you have done, everything you have been.”

Harry wanted her mother to squeeze her hands, tight and comforting, so she squeezed her own. She closed her eyes tight.

“Now you have to be brave, just one more time.”

When Harry opened her eyes, they were gone.

She didn’t draw her wand, when she stepped into the clearing to face the shell of Tom Riddle. She tried not to be afraid. There was a flash of green light, and then she woke up in a King’s Cross Station that was too clean to be true.

She was given a choice to go forward, or to go back. “There will be people who love you waiting there for you,” said Dumbledore, smiling, sitting on a bench bathed in light. “It will be easy, and so little has been easy for you.”

But Harry had people who loved her waiting back at Hogwarts, too. She was tired, but they were waiting– Ron and Hermione, who had come so far for her; Blaise, who said he wasn’t kind. She had months of Ginny’s letters to read. She had made a promise.

Harry woke up cheek-down in forest mulch. Narcissa lied for her. Neville pulled the sword from the Hat and took down the snake. Harry killed Voldemort in a flash of green light, and his body hit the ground with an ugly thud.

After the war, Harry planted beds of flowers around the Burrow. She chose plants and charmed them so that there would be something blooming in every season.

She joined the Aurors and slept a lot of nights on the pull-out couch in Hermione and Ginny’s little apartment outside the local wizarding college– Hermione was taking a double class load (no Time Turner, just good scheduling), and Ginny was playing for the school Quidditch team and dazzling scouts.

Other nights Harry spent in one of Blaise’s lovely spare rooms, until she finally found her own little place to stay. Her flat wasn’t much bigger than a cupboard under some stairs, but she liked it. She made friends with the spiders under the sink and the little snakes who lived in the lot out back.

Neville took over for Professor Sprout, who sent Harry postcards and plant clippings from her retirement world tour. Ginny moved out of Hermione’s the week Ron moved in, saying she was about as close with her brother and future sister-in-law (“what?” squeaked Ron) as she was comfortable being.

Blaise rolled his eyes over drinks one night, as Ginny complained about bad water pressure in her new place, and said he was getting rid of the hat collection that was taking up one of his spare rooms. Harry stirred her drink idly and Blaise added, sighing at their inability to take a hint, that he’d been thinking of letting the room out. “You can even move your spiders in,” he told Harry. “You know,” he added to Ginny, conspiratorially and commiserating, “I had to tell her you were pretty. And I think she only noticed because you were on a broom.”

“Seems about right,” said Ginny brightly. “I think I’ll keep her.”

When the Aurors started talking about promotions and bigger office spaces, Harry hesitated. She went home to the room they’d rid of Blaise’s fancy heirloom furniture and filled with wobbly-legged Weasley exports and Molly’s quilts. Harry laid her head on Ginny’s lap and got dripped on by her hair, freshly washed after Quidditch practice. “I don’t think I want to keep doing this,” said Harry.

“You don’t have to,” said Ginny. “Hey, I hear the Cannons need a Seeker, if you don’t mind us beating you in every match.”

Harry laughed.

“You’ve fought for most of your life,” said Ginny. “And you’re good at it, but it’s not because you like it.”

Harry thought about the things in her life that she had loved and not just lived through, and then she sent an application in to Hogwarts for a teaching position.

Blaise’s bathroom taps were hilariously ornate, and Harry always made sure to talk to the little snakes carved into them, to see if any would open up something unexpected. His didn’t, but when they visited Astoria and Daphne she found a secret tunnel out to the woodshed that opened to Parseltongue.

There was a poker in Blaise’s living room, though, that had a little sculpted snake that would tell you riddles if you asked nice and in its own tongue. One night, when Hermione (with Harry’s translation help and Ron’s emotional support) was jousting with the the riddling thing, Harry wrote a letter to Sprout, asking for advice.

Everyone needs something, Professor Sprout wrote back, cramped, on a postcard from the Galapagos Islands. You won’t be the answer for every kid, but look for the ones you can help. Offer them what you have, but they’re the only ones who can take it. Be an ear, be a kindness, be safe. You can’t help them all, but you can save some.

On Harry’s (second) first day at Hogwarts, she had the Marauder’s Map folded in her pocket. Blaise had picked out her earrings. Ginny had stuffed a muffin in her hand, kissed her good-bye, and pushed her out the door. Hermione had been quizzing her on the curriculum standards for weeks.

A half hour before her students were supposed to arrive, Harry climbed up to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Morning light poured through the window, washing over the desks and bookshelves, the stone walls, the young woman in dark robes who was squeezing her hands together.

Harry breathed. She went to the desk and sat down to her notes, which were stained with Hermione’s annotations and the bottom of Ginny’s favorite mug. Out the window she could see the tops of the Forbidden Forest’s tallest trees, waving in a wind that didn’t touch her. It felt like home. She meant to stay. All curses end, in time.

The scar on her forehead hadn’t ached in years, and it never would again."

hey would you ever do a "what if harry potter had been a girl" story? or a trans girl? i don't know how much gender would change things except other people's perceptions but...

Hermione went to the library, when Harry first confided in her. Whatever the faculty, the administration, or the Ministry believed or didn’t believe, the Hogwarts library gave the children what they needed and always would.

Hermione came back with books and books on gender in wizarding history, on the spells and words wizards had used for centuries or decades or mere years, and she and Harry bent their heads together and figured out what words Harry felt best told her story. From her hometown library, after that first summer, Hermione brought back memoirs and brightly-colored pamphlets that Harry read through instead of finishing her Potions homework.

When Harry looked in the Mirror of Erised, she still saw her mother, her father, all her gathered, lost kin. The specter of her father gathered up her hands in his. Her mother pushed back the long dark hair Petunia had always made her cut short and she called her beautiful.

When she looked into it again, after Devil’s Snare and winged keys, giant chess and Ron lying prone on the floor, Hermione wringing her eleven year old hands in the potion riddle room– When Harry looked into the Mirror again, she saw herself, just herself. The girl in the mirror winked and smiled and slipped the Stone in Harry’s pocket. No matter what other wishes and want laid on her narrow shoulders, at the end of the day the thing Harry wanted most was to help. Harry brushed one hand over the lump of rock in her robe pocket, and then brushed her other over her mess of hair, which was feet shorter than the girl in the mirror’s.

She woke up in the hospital wing, bedside table piled high with candy.

Once Harry and Hermione had sussed out between them what the words were for what was going on here, they had explained it to Ron. Harry didn’t come out to anyone else until partway through second year, though, at the height of the Heir of Slytherin nonsense.

She was fed up, then. She just wanted to be left alone, and this wouldn’t help with that, but they were all already staring. Keeping this to herself felt like a vice around her chest. Hogwarts was supposed to be better.

After, Ron came almost to blows with anyone who goggled or sniffed or rolled their eyes. Seamas learned to swallow his tongue. Draco Malfoy didn’t. Hermione wrote up an explanatory note about appropriate pronouns in her best penmanship and then copied it with flicks of her wand. With Harry’s embarrassed permission, she gave it to every professor Harry had or would ever have.

Colin Creevey stopped her in the Great Hall with a tug on her sleeve. She turned, shoulders rising, and the kid said in his piping voice, “You’re still my hero.”

That was better than it could have been, but she wasn’t sure she liked the “still.”

Peeves, though he was nasty about everything else–ickle firsties and orphan girls–got it immediately. For all six years of her Hogwarts tenure, he dropped water balloons on the heads of anyone who misgendered her. Professor Binns never quite figured it out, but he didn’t know any student’s name. Nearly Headless Nick gallantly and somewhat awkwardly called her lady and tried to hold open doors for her, despite the fact that he couldn’t open them.

Snape called Harry “Mr. Potter” for all seven years that he was in Harry’s life. Around year three, Ron stopped counting the detentions he got for his increasingly sarcastic responses to this.

The whispers about the Heir of Slytherin grew louder and louder, keeping pace with “Uh, I thought it was the Boy Who Lived?” Fred and George Weasley took it upon themselves to walk Harry to and from class when they could, talking loudly enough to drown everything out.

Then Hermione got Petrified and the Heir whispers stopped abruptly. Harry, if she hadn’t been busy with Ron trading off reading their assigned textbooks aloud to Hermione in the infirmary, might have felt gratified that the whole school knew how much this bushy-haired kid meant to her. Alright, so they thought she might murder Muggleborns with a mysterious monster, or sic a snake on her opponent in a dueling club? But they knew she wouldn’t hurt Hermione for anything.

In the Chamber, she met Tom Riddle. He was supposed to be her mirror, though she didn’t quite know that yet. He was supposed to be her shadow, the chain around her ankle, the other half (or another eighth) of her story and his soul.

Ginny had been trying to speak for months– to tell someone, to open the diary and the bag under her bed full of chicken-blood-stained robes and to thrust them into the light. But Percy had shushed her, all his assumptions orbiting his own importance to her story. The teachers had patted her on the head. She had been frightened, eleven years old with Tom whispering in her ear, guiding her hands.

Harry had been trying to speak for years– to explain to someone the way she did not feel like Dudley, like Vernon, like the boys in the locker room at school. Hermione had listened. Hermione had given her books and books of people who felt like her. Ron had listened, and taught her wizard’s chess, and kicked Draco in the shins.

But here Harry was, standing alone– a red-haired lump at her feet, dark robes sodden with moldy water. Hermione was frozen. Ron was trapped behind a rock fall and Tom was pacing, gloating, glowing. Ginny was breathing. Ginny had to be breathing. Harry was going to save her. She had to, because no one had listened to the kid, not even Harry.

The phoenix tears left no scars on Harry’s arm. Riddle, the Chamber, the life going out of her, everything that had happened in that long year– none of it left scars on Ginny, or at least none that anyone could see.

When Harry got back to 4 Privet Drive that summer, she suffered through Aunt Petunia’s annual hair cut and then she curled up with Hedwig and wrote a letter. She wrote about the Muggle candies she missed when at Hogwarts, and how her cousin thought she was weird for being excited about summer homework. She asked Ginny how she was.

Ginny wrote back after a long week. She didn’t answer the question, but she wrote about helping Dad on the car, about the apple harvest coming, and Fred and George playing pranks on the ghoul in the attic.

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nothingbettertodotoday · 3 years ago

Text

Xavier Thorpe x reader (y/n)

No pronouns mentioned (i think) - just mention of the female dorms but this can be ignored?

Warnings; none :) might be spoilers later but not in this part!!

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4

Word Count: 1150

Author notes: this takes place the year before wednesday arrives, i've only written the first part and have no idea on the direction just yet so any ideas are welcome in messages!! This is also the first fic i have ever actually posted - let me know what you think :D

______________________________________________________________

The rain had just started, you could see specs across your window as it slowly covered the entire pane, the moonlight shone through, creating patterns of light throughout your room, you were sitting at your desk, doodling across your homework. Your favourite class was definitely botanical science with Miss Thornhill, but at the end of the day homework was still homework.

You flicked your pen back and forth, glancing around your room, looking for any distraction. Unfortunately your roommate had to leave the academy earlier in the semester, leaving you alone. You usually loved having the room to yourself, but some nights it really did feel lonely, you could hear every creak from the footsteps above, laughs from the corridor and rooms next door, it was maddening.

You decided enough was enough, you were bored and needed to do something stimulating. Thankfully, your species allowed you to keep entertained fairly easily - you were a poltergeist.

You died at a young age, but your bloodline had worked closely with witches, a spell allowed your parents to bring you back to life, but not quite as they imagined.

Your powers allowed you to do things many couldn't, you could pass through things such as walls, levitate, turn invisible (which you called ‘cloaking’), and you had a certain way with pyrotechnics. Your parents believed when you were brought back that you changed, your mood, attitude, whole personality even, mischief (which poltergeists are known for) seemed to overtake your new life. It was difficult at times - even the outcasts viewed you as weird. An outcast in a school of outcasts. You had a handful of friends here and there, but no one made you feel really safe and included.

You left your homework and pushed away from your desk. Nevermore had a curfew of students in their dorms by 10pm on weekdays, but it wasn't rare for students to break this rule. You cloaked yourself and passed through your door, your nails dragged across each door of Ophelia Hall as you left the building. You loved that you could torment people and they would never know it was you.

You had already explored most of the academy, so this time you decided to explore the woods. You followed a stream leading you deep into the woods, listening to the sound of flowing water, the further you went into the woods the creepier it got. The once light drizzle was now getting significantly heavier, owls were hooting, while the wind whistled and then suddenly a snap. A branch. Something or someone was behind you. You turned quickly but to your surprise, no one was there. As you turned you noticed a shed through a clearing, there was a dimly lit light glowing from inside. You walked towards, curious as to what could be going on.

You appeared outside the shed, you noticed an open padlock and chain hung around one of the door handles. You could hear loud music playing inside. Someone was definitely in there. You made sure your cloak was on and passed through the door, once inside you noticed drawings, paintings, artwork dotted everywhere, the walls were plastered, each desk had a sketchbook and some sort of material to be used, even the floor was littered with crumpled up paper and pencil shavings.

You looked towards the end of the shed, where the light was focused, you could see someone sitting on a stool, encased in their drawing, they were oblivious to you in the shed, being invisible did help. You looked around slowly at the artwork, you decided to flip through one of the sketchbooks closest to you, gently moving the pages so as to not alert the individual with you. One of the drawings caught your interest, an ink drawing of a statue, not just any statue, the Edger Allen Poe statue, you knew where this one on campus, the interesting thing about the drawing was that in the background there was an array of books, almost like a library behind the statue, but you knew this wasn't the case, you had scoured most the academy.

You decided to tear the page out, forgetting you weren't alone. The individual spoke out. “Who's there?”, they asked. You dropped the page and turned, you could now see the individual's face, it was Xavier. You and Xavier had a few classes together, mutual friends, but not much of a conversation ever existed between the two of you.

“I said who’s there?” Xavier asked aloud again.

You remembered you were still cloaked, you decided it would be more fun to mess with him instead of reveal yourself. You walk towards him, making your footsteps heavy so they bang on the floor with each step, you drag your hands across the desks, pulling drawings across the floor, you do your best ghost impression and let out a long ghostly moan, you even let out a few giggles on the way. Xavier looks scared, shocked, confused. You move closer to him, levitating slightly so you are face to face, all within a moment you uncloak yourself and let out the smallest “boo”, Xavier shouts and falls back into the easel behind him.

You drop to the group and apologise, all while laughing so much it hurts.

“Not cool, Y/N”, “What are you even doing here?” Xavier asks.

You offer out your hand to help him up, Xavier rolls his eyes and takes your hand.

“Maybe I should ask you the same question, you know it's past your curfew Xavier.” You say back to him. Xavier scoffed.

“Tell me then, what even are you?” he asked.

“What am I? Can you not guess, I think that would be much more fun.” you replied.

“You're a pain in the ass for one thing.”

You looked up at Xavier, his eyes seemed glossy, like he had been crying, not that you would say a word to him about it. You glanced at the drawing behind him, walking towards it, you brushed your hand across the canvas, it was a vase of dead flowers. How morbid you thought. Xavier pulled his hand over the drawing, bringing one of the dead flowers out of the canvas, he gave it to you.

“I'm a poltergeist by the way”, you said trying to diffuse the situation, not many people responded well when you told them, which is why it was a secret you usually kept to yourself.

“That's cool,” Xavier responded.

You and Xavier didn't need to say much to each other, he invited you to hang out in his art shed, which you happily accepted given your love for drawing. You spent the evening sharing glances, drawing, and giggling. For some reason you felt like you could trust Xavier, he was open and honest which was rare for students here. Everyone always seemed to have some sort of mystery about them.

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chdarling-tle · 4 years ago

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Shadow-cloaked corridors and the heavy, thick silence of a post-curfew corridor. Glitter of starlight through a blur of window-glass. The distant hoot of an owl. Then: “Ouch! That was my foot, Prongs.”

“Sorry, sorry…it’s harder to fit two of us under this cloak than I anticipated. What did you have to go and get so tall for? It’s damned inconvenient.”

“Your grumbling has been noted. Here, did you mark down this door?”

Peter sat nestled in James’s pocket as a rat, paws perched on the hem, watching their progression through the shimmer of the Invisibility Cloak. Sirius held his wand aloft for light while James made a note on the scroll of parchment he carried with them.

They’d spent every evening of the week prior down in the dungeons, trying and failing to find a secret path into the Slytherin dorms. When none revealed itself, they’d moved on to canvasing the castle, each night conquering a different floor, jotting down every door, window, and statue in their path. They had to take turns since only two of them could fit under the Cloak…plus Peter, of course. They were on the third floor tonight, and so far it had been uneventful. Still, James assured them this work was essential.

“Cartography 101,” he’d said. “Get a lay of the land.”

James insisted that if there wasn’t a rat-sized way into the Slytherin dormitory from the dungeons, then surely there must be from above. Nowhere in the castle was impenetrable. Peter, however, was not so sure, and though he’d never dare voice this opinion, he rather thought James was overreacting to Snape having his little vial of Felix Felicis. So the git got one lucky day. What harm could he do with it, really? For reasons that Peter would never quite understand, Sirius Black seemed to be bulletproof; Dumbledore himself had made it clear that Remus was protected, so who was actually in danger here?

Me, thought Peter glumly. He had very little desire to sneak into the Slytherin common room unaccompanied, disguised as a rat or not. No one seemed to be very concerned with what happened to him.

Read on AO3

----

Posting a little early tonight because tomorrow’s going to be a bit busy...Enjoy this weird little chapter!

#peter pettigrew #marauders fanfiction #tle2 #The Last Enemy: Dark Marks

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serpent-under-the-flower · 4 years ago

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You know what lives rent-free in my brain? Drarry Genealogy AU. I’m gonna bulletpoint this thing and post it without proofreading, as one does.

After the War, Harry is Not Okay. He tries to be everything that everyone expects of him but it’s too overwhelming and he’s just so tired. So he disappears into Grimmauld Place because it’s the only place he has ever had any kind of emotional connection to and he watches the outside world pass him by. UNTIL!!!

One day, the old Black family tapestry (still stuck fast to the wall) catches his eye and he starts thinking about all of those people he saw in the Mirror of Erised when he was 11 and wondering who they were. Let’s face it, research has never been his strength, so he contacts the foremost magical genealogist in England. (Hermione doesn’t make eye contact with him for some reason when she gives him the information for Magical Lineage Associates. Hmm…weird.)

He understands perfectly why Hermione didn’t make eye contact with him when Draco Malfoy shows up at his door wearing a wary look and a fitted button down shirt that was rolled up to show off his forearms and unbuttoned enough to flash a bit of collarbone and blonde chest hair. BLONDE CHEST HAIR!!! Harry slams the door. This is too much. The Malfoy he remembers didn’t have COLLARBONES. He decides his only course of action is to oblivate himself when he hears an owl pecking on his window. He opens it to find it holding a piece of parchment that says…

“Your grandmother loved African violets so much that your grandfather built window boxes without magic for every single window on their house and charmed them so that the violets would grow year-round, regardless of the weather. If you want to know more, open the door.”

Harry opens the door.

The next few months are a whirlwind of Draco dragging Harry from place to place to look at old ledgers and records in tiny ancient Muggle churches in the country and to talk to paintings in manor houses and museums. Draco will show up at his door a few times a week, talking incessantly, and bully Harry into some decent clothes and out the door on a new adventure to recover a piece of information about his ancestors. Harry keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop with Draco but it never does. He’s still snooty and condescending and annoying as fuck but he challenges Harry and makes him feel excited and interested in life in a way he hasn’t felt in forever.

Draco finds a childhood journal from Harry’s 6x great-grandmother and they end up getting chased by a very large and angry sheep when they dig for buried treasure that the woman supposedly buried in a field as a child and Draco grabs him and apparates away while laughing breathlessly. And they sneak into The National Gallery under the invisibility cloak after hours to speak to a portrait but they have to make a run for it when a painting of hunting dogs catches their scent and the dogs pursue them from room to room. They end up sitting shoulder to shoulder against a building in Picadilly Circus, talking into the night, Draco’s hair almost pink in the glow of the lights where it brushes Harry’s cheek.

One day when they are eating ice cream by the seaside in a little town where Harry’s great-great-great-great uncle Jihan became a Muggle urban legend when he almost drowned while performing an elaborate courting ritual involving explosions, 40 pints of ale, and a whale, Harry finally asks Draco how he got into the magical genealogy business. Draco sits quietly, letting the ice cream melt and drip down his hand a bit and Harry does not think about licking it off and then he speaks passionately about how many people lost their families during the Wars and his desire to reconnect people with loved ones they lost as a way of atoning.

Oh. Oh!

Harry is in trouble. 😍

They continue exploring Harry’s heritage together and Harry even starts helping him with other cases and he finds that he loves it. As an orphan who always yearned for a connection with the family he never had the chance to know, he finds an incredible satisfaction and joy in introducing clients to previously lost pieces of their heritage. Draco never charges for his services, preferring to use the Malfoy fortune for good deeds for once (his words, not Harry’s).

Harry manages to keep his feelings for Draco under wraps until Christmas when Draco hesitantly hands him a small box and he opens it to discover his grandmother’s wedding ring that Draco secretly spent months tracking down in Edinburgh after going through the Potter estate sale records. He’s crying a little bit when he kisses Draco but neither of them mind.

He ends up using the ring when he proposes a year later. They buy a cottage together and Draco, sweating and swearing, builds window boxes for every single window of their home without magic and charms them so that African violets will grow year-round. ❤️

#that’s the story that lives rent-free in my head #of course it’s filled with more hijinks but you can fill in the rest with your imagination #I’m flying out first thing in the morning and am getting MARRIED on Saturday #so I won’t be here much for the next week #but there’s stuff in the queue and werewolf wednesday will still happen haha #Drarry #Draco malfoy #Harry James potter #Harry Potter

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marauder-exe · 5 years ago

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Melodramatic- Draco Malfoy x Reader

Request: 107, 108 and 109 with Draco Malfoy, plzzz?

Prompts: 107. ‘And your wondering why your still single’

108. ‘Remind me to kick you, please?

109. Thats a little melodramatic, don't you think?’

Warnings: Sexual themes (no smut just talk of sex, and a steamy scene), pre-established relationship

Word Count: 800

Draco was sat at the Slytherin table during breakfast, recounting the story of the previous weeks conquest, the surrounding Slytherins hanging o every word he said. You walked over to him, going to sit down, hearing the remnants of his conversation.

“And I never owled her back, bet she's heartbroken.” He laughed. You pulled a disgusted face.

“Merlin Draco, And you wonder why your still single” The way he treated some women were disgusting, he never treated you that way, because you had never met him, you where always the one to call him out on stuff, that's what he loved about you.

“Don't be jealous, (Y/N)” He chuckled, throwing a glance at you.

“You wish I was jealous, Malfoy” He did. You where. But neither of you knew that. You both hid behind secret make outs and ‘just friends’, but you loved each other. You looked towards the Gryffindor table, and spotter Hermione staring over at him. You looked down at your plate, suddenly very interested in your food.

“Hermiones looking at you again” He looked over toward you, then at Hermione.

“She probably just wants the D from Draco” He burst out laughing. You scrunched your face up in disgust.

“Remind me to kick you later” You said with a sarcastic smile, which he returned. “Right, im off to potions, later losers” You said walking away, throwing a smirk at Draco.

“I better join her, in case she gets lost” He laughed loudly, nut you just threw a middle finger at him and sped up your pace. Your friends thought it was weird, you didn't have potions, you had transfiguration.

You sped down a seemingly empty corridor, patiently waiting for Draco. He quickly rounded the corner, already undoing his tie. You giggled and shed your robe. His lips where immediately attached to yours.

“Your conquests, huh? They sound pretty fun” You breathed out, already warm from Draco's lips being attached to your neck.

“They're nothing compared to you, love”

“Id hope so” You giggled as your lips attached to his neck.

“You think anyone knows about us?” He questioned. You doubted it.

“Nah, were pretty good actors if you ask me” You giggled.

“Good.” He responded curtly, before lifting you up so you could wrap your legs around his waist. You giggle but quickly stopped as you heard the footsteps down the corridor.

“Draco.. Draco! There's people coming!” he quickly put you down. You moved to leave, not before turning around to give him a quick kiss. “See you at dinner!” You skipped away. He put a hand on his cheek, where you just kissed and smiled, beginning to walk off to potions. Just as he left, Luna pulled off her invisibility cloak, and started to walk to potions.

After your respective lessons, you decided to meet Draco when he came from potions, and headed to the dungeons. Draco was packing up all of his things from potions, blissfully unaware that Luna was waiting to talk to him outside. He said goodbye to Snape, ad headed out the door, coming to a stop before he bumped into Luna.

“Oh, hi Luna.”

“I know about you and (Y/N).” He gaped at her, how could she know. They where so secretive. Well as secretive as snogging in a corridor can be.

“i saw you. Before potions. Don't worry I wont tell anyone” She said in that voice of hers. “I wont tell anyone, I just don't want you to use her” Draco couldn't help but get a little offended.

“Listen Luna, I love that woman, she doesn't know it but I do. Honestly, she's my everything.”

You stopped walking as you heard Draco talking to someone. Luna knew about you both. Oh God.

“Listen Luna, I love that woman, she doesn't know it but I do. Honestly, she's my everything.” You heart filled at the thought of Draco confessing his love for you.

“Id take a killing curse for her” He was always a dramatic.

“That's a little melodramatic, don't you think?” You smiled, as Draco whipped around to look at you. Luna smiled, and nodded, walking away.

“(Y/N)? i-”

“If its any consolation, I love you too” You giggled, Staring into his eyes.

“Come ere’” He grabbed your waist and pushed his lips against yours, smiling into the kiss.

#Draco #Draco Malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x y/n #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #draco malfoy fanfiction

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twoidiotwriters1 · 5 years ago

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

A/N: How are we feeling after the last chapter? I encourage you to sit, relax, and enjoy what’s coming bc I promise it’s great -Danny

Words: 6,220

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Listen to: This -By Ed Sheeran.

Chapter Twenty-Eight: The Dark Days.

Mel remembers going back to bed after a whole hour well spent with Harry.

They talked for most of the time, silly nothings just to keep hearing each other. Between unfinished sentences and bashful glances, whether if it was love or mere attraction, Mel was certain they were falling into it together.

The next morning she woke up with a fuzzy feeling she couldn't quite place at first. Then it came to her: Harry and her, talking quietly in the common room and...

She let out a short, excited squeal, hoping that the rest of the girls were still sleeping. Mel peered through her curtain and saw her classmates resting. She fell back on the mattress, smiling to herself, reminiscing...

When she walked out of the room with Hermione, talking about Krum –he'd asked her to go and spend a week with him during summer– she felt on the verge of confessing the events of the previous night, but Ginny walked up to them as soon as they got to the common room, eager to hear about what they had to go through to be part of the second task.

Mel felt a tug on her stomach, she was elated to confirm Harry liked her back, but she couldn't reveal it to Hermione or Ginny, she knew how easy some secrets could slip from Hermione's mouth when she wasn't thinking, it didn't happen often but she couldn't risk Ginny finding out that way... not that it would ruin their friendship, but she figured it would still hurt her, and she hated the possibility.

She was in the middle of this crisis when she caught sight of Harry in the middle of a bunch of Gryffindors, all asking him about the second task and what he'd done to solve it. He hadn't seen her yet, and Mel watched him speak with an easy smile on his face as he retold his adventure to Fred and George. That boy right there had kissed her not so many hours ago.

When they were about ten feet away the crowd dispersed and Harry finally noticed her. It was ridiculous really, the way he would smile at the sight of her.

"Good morning," Mel tried to sound calm, but it came out a bit strangled.

"Hi," Harry retorted with the same eagerness, Ron merely glanced up at them from his food.

It was Saturday, which meant they had the whole day to themselves. How was she supposed to keep her mind busy and her hands to herself if they had nothing to do but spend time together?

Thankfully, she didn't have to worry for long. Students would walk up to them throughout the day to ask Harry, Hermione, and her all about their experience –as a nice extra, some even asked Ron about his experience with the committee. Mel and Harry kept it simple, but Hermione grew grumpy after the third hour cause their classmates would tease her about being Krum's favourite person. Oddly enough, none of them teased Harry and her, and she realized that it was because they thought they were dating, just like Cho. She didn't feel the need to prove them wrong.

Harry still could remember the feeling.

At first, he waited anxiously for her reaction, but as soon as her hands pulled him closer he forgot about everything. It was the two of them only and a whole world for themselves with time to spare. Mel was the only important thing he could think of, the only thing that truly was worth it.

Her touch, her hair falling against the back of his hands... every time he thought about it he couldn't help but smile, couldn't even be bothered to be mad at the strangers walking up to him asking about the second task. He kept thinking about that brief moment when they finally broke apart after their first kiss. She looked up at him and Harry said, half-joking and half-worrying:

"Does this mean we're not just friends?"

She laughed shortly, and he forgot about the question when Mel pulled him in for another kiss.

Harry was eager to find a quiet, private place so he could ask more questions, or just to make sure she was okay. It felt like the whole school was trying to work against him, interrupting every opportunity.

Nevertheless, it came to him the same way all things you most desperately want: After long, long waiting. After dinner he made sure to stay behind and, in pure Mel fashion, she read his mind and also took her time, climbing up the stairs slowly.

"Did you have a good day?"

It was weird to see her flustered and know it was him the one who was causing it. He liked it, made him feel taller and older, even though he was still the same height as her and about four weeks younger too.

"The best," He smiled, "you?"

"It was okay," She smiled timidly. "I think it's the first time people run to me and not away from me."

He laughed.

"Must be nice."

"Yeah, though I really wanted them to leave us alone, at least for a second..." She avoided his eyes when she said it.

"Yeah..." They reached the tower, Hermione and Ron walked in first. Harry heard plenty of people there, and he couldn't help but feel a bit annoyed at all of the lot.

"Well..." She stopped at the entrance, keeping the entrance open.

Harry was wondering why wasn't she moving when he realized she was waiting for him to do something. He wasn't quite sure of what, but he was desperate to have any kind of contact. He stepped forward and kissed her.

It was short, just enough to revive the funny little feeling in the pit of his stomach. Mel's face was flushed. When he got into bed that night, Harry felt like he was already dreaming.

Well into March an owl appeared during breakfast bringing Sirius's note.

'Be at stile at end of road out of Hogsmeade (past Dervish and Banges) at two o'clock on Saturday afternoon. Bring as much food as you can.'

"He hasn't come back to Hogsmeade?" said Ron incredulously.

"It looks like it, doesn't it?" said Hermione.

"I can't believe him," Harry frowned, "if he's caught..."

"Made it so far, though, hasn't he?" said Ron. "And it's not like the place is swarming with dementors anymore."

"That doesn't excuse him," Mel said.

"It's time for Potions," Harry announced, standing up and folding the letter. "We should go..."

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were standing close together with Pansy Parkinson and her friends. When the girl saw them arrive at the dungeon, she spoke up:

"There they are, there they are! You might find something to interest you in there, Granger!" Pansy threw a magazine at Hermione, who caught it roughly.

They sat at the back and when Snape wasn't looking, Hermione read through the magazine quickly. She stopped abruptly in one page, and they all huddled together to read it:

Harry Potter's Secret Heartache

A boy like no other, perhaps — yet a boy suffering all the usual pangs of adolescence, writes Rita Skeeter. Deprived of love since the tragic demise of his parents, fourteen-year-old Harry Potter thought he had found solace in his steady girlfriend at Hogwarts, Muggle-born Hermione Granger. Little did he know that he would shortly be suffering yet another emotional blow in a life already littered with personal loss.

Miss Granger, a plain but ambitious girl, seems to have a taste for famous wizards that Harry alone cannot satisfy. Since the arrival at Hogwarts of Viktor Krum, Bulgarian Seeker and hero of the last World Quidditch Cup, Miss Granger has been toying with both boys' affections. Krum, who is openly smitten with the devious Miss Granger, has already invited her to visit him in Bulgaria over the summer holidays, and insists that he has "never felt this way about any other girl."

However, it might not be Miss Granger's doubtful natural charms that have captured these unfortunate boys' interest.

"She's really ugly," says Pansy Parkinson, a pretty and vivacious fourth-year student, "but she'd be well up to making a Love Potion, she's quite brainy. I think that's how she's doing it."

Love Potions are, of course, banned at Hogwarts, and no doubt Albus Dumbledore will want to investigate these claims. In the meantime, Harry Potter's well-wishers must hope that, next time, he bestows his heart on a worthier candidate. We wonder as well, where is Mel Dumbledore in all this and is she aware of her friend's betrayal?

"I told you!" Ron hissed. "I told you not to annoy Rita Skeeter! She's made you out to be some sort of — of scarlet woman!" Hermione snorted.

"Scarlet woman?" She repeated with a grin.

"It's what my mum calls them," Ron muttered.

"If that's the best Rita can do, she's losing her touch," said Hermione, still amused. "What a pile of old rubbish. I'm sorry about my betrayal, Mel. I hope you and Harry recover."

Mel laughed, if only Skeeter knew... Hermione gave the Slytherin girls a sarcastic smile and waved.

"There's something funny, though," She said later. "How could Rita Skeeter have known..?"

"Known what?" said Ron. "You haven't been mixing up Love Potions, have you?"

"Don't be stupid," Hermione frowned. "No, it's just... how did she know Viktor asked me to visit him over the summer?"

"What?" Ron dropped what he was doing to gape at her.

"He asked me right after he'd pulled me out of the lake," Hermione was blushing and avoided Ron's eyes at all cost. "After he'd got rid of his shark's head. Madam Pomfrey gave us both blankets and then he sort of pulled me away from the judges so they wouldn't hear, and he said if I wasn't doing anything over the summer, would I like to —"

"And what did you say?" said Ron, who wasn't even paying attention to what his own hands were doing.

"And he did say he'd never felt the same way about anyone else," Hermione went on, her hands shaking, "but how could Rita Skeeter have heard him? She wasn't there... or was she? Maybe she has got an Invisibility Cloak; maybe she sneaked onto the grounds to watch the second task..."

"And what did you say?" Ron repeated.

"Well, you were there!"

"I was distracted trying to see if Harry and Mel were okay!"

"I was busy seeing if Harry and Mel were okay too —"

"Fascinating though your social life undoubtedly is, Miss Granger," Snape had come out of nowhere. "I must ask you not to discuss it in my class. Ten points from Gryffindor... Ah, reading magazines under the table as well?" Snape quickly took the magazine from their seats. "A further ten points from Gryffindor... oh but of course," He was now skimming through the article in which the magazine was still open. "Potter has to keep up with his press cuttings..."

The Slytherins laughed and mocked them, Snape took cruel pleasure in reading the words out loud.

" 'Harry Potter's Secret Heartache... dear, dear, Potter, what's ailing you now? 'A boy like no other, perhaps '... Harry Potter's well-wishers must hope that, next time, he bestows his heart upon a worthier candidate.' How very touching. Well, I think I had better separate the four of you, so you can keep your minds on your potions rather than on your tangled love lives. Weasley and Dumbledore you stay here. Miss Granger, over there, beside Miss Parkinson. Potter — that table in front of my desk. Move. Now."

"Well, tomorrow's a new day where I can earn those ten points back," Mel sighed as she watched their friends leave the table.

"How are you not upset?" Ron snapped.

"Am I supposed to believe Harry and Hermione have been dating behind our backs?"

"No! But you... you like Harry!"

"Yeah, but Hermione's not his girlfriend!" She replied.

"What about Krum? Aren't you upset about Hermione hiding all that from you?" Mel stared at him pointedly. "You knew?"

"Of course I knew, Ron! Hermione's my best friend..."

"She's my best friend too!"

"It's different..."

"How come?"

"Last time you were rude to her even though you're the one who's got the obsession with Krum. I thought you'd be beyond happy with the news, if Krum and Hermione get together you'd be friends with him! Isn't that what you wanted?"

"I never said I wanted that," He threw the ingredients into the cauldron rather forcefully. "Why, he doesn't look like he could take a joke!"

"Honestly, Ron," She snorted, "if I didn't know you any better, I'd say you're stinking jealous."

Ron made the strangest noise, dropping the ginger roots on accident as he looked away.

"Don't be stupid," He said, then continued under his breath. "Jealous... Yeah, right."

Mel glanced at him. Could it be..?

No, Ron was just terrible, it'd been exactly the same when he knew about Erick, he just didn't enjoy the idea of splitting the group with different people. It was as simple as that.

Unless...

She shook her head and continued working, she was being silly! Just because Harry had liked her all this time didn't necessarily mean that Ron was the same... she would've noticed! Ron was a terrible liar!

Then again, Harry was a terrible liar too, and she never saw that he liked her back until a few weeks prior...

Karkaroff entered the Dungeon and went directly to the teacher's desk. Mel watched both men argue before Snape turned his back to him and continued the lesson, Karkaroff remained in one corner. When the lesson ended, Harry approached with concern.

"Karkaroff and Snape are hiding something for sure," He stated.

He narrated the scene and the four of them wondered what could Karkaroff possibly be hiding in his arm. He told them about Snape threatening Harry with using a truth potion to make him confess he'd stolen ingredients from his office. Harry wasn't guilty -not that time, at least- but he did worry that Snape could make him confess about Sirius and... other things, he said, looking intently at Mel.

The weather was nice those days, Harry liked it cause he and Mel could walk around the school grounds for hours. Ron and Hermione would also go with them, but they seemed to sense something was going on between them and would give them space.

However, that weekend they had to forget about their walks and head to Hogsmeade, where they were supposed to find Sirius. Harry's bag was filled with plenty of food, enough for at least two days.

They stopped at a shop to buy a present for Dobby, at least an hour went by before they concluded they had enough socks to fill the elf's wardrobe. Mel and Harry secretly thanked him for somehow playing a part in their story, but none of them ever shared their thoughts to the other.

Once reaching the part where the houses were fewer and people weren't often seeing outside, Harry and Mel let their friends take the lead, pretending like it was nothing, they held hands with an easy-going smile on their faces.

Mel's mind wandered away to one of her daydreams, maybe next year once they were a bit older and the tournament was over, they'd be free to walk together everywhere, even held each other closer... maybe kiss...

An animal sound brought her back and her attention turned to the large, shaggy dog waiting for them on the fence. He had a newspaper in his mouth and was wagging his tail excitedly.

"Hello, Sirius," said Harry, letting go of her hand -which saddened her just a little- and patting the dog's head lightly.

The dog examined Harry's bag with a quick sniff and started to walk away to the foot of the nearest mountain. After merely two minutes of climbing, the kids were losing their breath, sweating now under the sun, Mel hoped his hiding spot would be nearer now, she didn't think she would like to keep going much longer.

Finally, they reached a narrow entrance and followed Sirius inside. The cave was big enough to fit all of them, and to Mel's surprise, Buckbeak. The four of them bowed at the creature, Buckbeak bowed back and allowed both girls to touch him.

"Chicken!" She heard Sirius said roughly. She noticed the old robes -the same ones he'd been wearing since leaving Azkaban- and how skinny he looked. "Thanks– I've been living off rats mostly. Can't steal too much food from Hogsmeade; I'd draw attention to myself."

He grinned like it was nothing to be worried about, and Harry smiled awkwardly, obviously worried. Mel felt a sting of annoyance, how could he live like this? Why?

"What're you doing here, Sirius?" Harry said.

"Fulfilling my duty as godfather. Don't worry about it, I'm pretending to be a lovable stray."

"It's not funny," Mel frowned. "You look awfully skinny, Sirius. If you would've told us something we would've sent you food..."

"That would've been too risky, a bunch of owls leaving large packages in the mountain... no, I'm fine," Sirius noticed the look of both and added sternly. "I want to be on the spot. Your last letter... well, let's just say things are getting fishier. I've been stealing the paper every time someone throws one out, and by the looks of things, I'm not the only one who's getting worried." Ron picked the paper from the dirty ground and examined it.

"What if they catch you? What if you're seen?" Harry inquired.

"You four and Dumbledore are the only ones around here who know I'm an Animagus," Sirius shrugged.

"You could've just stayed with my mum, it's close enough," Mel added. Sirius had known her parents enough to recognize her antics.

"Emily told me Harry's relatives have seen my picture in the news, suppose they look over the fence one day and see me calmly drinking tea in your kitchen? You think they would keep it to themselves?"

"I... I guess you have a point."

Sirius nodded silently, still eating. Ron handed the Daily Prophets, 'Mystery Illness of Bartemius Crouch', and the 'Ministry Witch Still Missing — Minister of Magic Now Personally Involved.'

"They're making it sound like he's dying," Harry mentioned, talking about the headline that mentioned Crouch. "But he can't be that ill if he managed to get up here..."

"My brother's Crouch's personal assistant," Ron told Sirius. "He says Crouch is suffering from overwork."

"Mind you, he did look ill, last time I saw him up close," said Harry. "The night my name came out of the goblet..."

"He didn't look ill," Mel said. "He looked... I don't know, worried. I just assumed he was like that because of Harry."

"Getting his comeuppance for sacking Winky, isn't he?" said Hermione, still stroking Buckbeak's head. "I bet he wishes he hadn't done it now — bet he feels the difference now she's not there to look after him."

"Hermione's obsessed with house-elves," Ron mumbled only for Sirius to hear.

"Crouch sacked his house-elf?" Sirius asked with a lot of interest.

"Yeah, at the Quidditch World Cup..." said Harry, and he proceeded to tell him the whole story about the Quidditch final.

"Let me get this straight," Sirius was now pacing around the cave, still holding a piece of chicken. "You first saw the elf in the Top Box. She was saving Crouch a seat, right?"

"Right."

"But Crouch didn't turn up for the match?"

"No. I think he said he'd been too busy."

"Harry, did you check your pockets for your wand after you'd left the Top Box?"

"Erm... No. I didn't need to use it before we got in the forest. And then I put my hand in my pocket, and all that was in there were my Omnioculars. Are you saying whoever conjured the Mark stole my wand in the Top Box?"

"It's possible," said Sirius.

"Winky didn't steal that wand!" Hermione insisted.

"The elf wasn't the only one in that box– Who else was sitting behind you?"

"Loads of people. Some Bulgarian ministers... Cornelius Fudge... the Malfoys..."

"The Malfoys!" said Ron. "I bet it was Lucius Malfoy!"

"What for?" Mel frowned. "He had a very good wand, and someone would've noticed if he took it, being as far as he was."

"Anyone else?" said Sirius.

"No one," said Harry.

"Yes, there was, there was Ludo Bagman," Hermione added quickly.

"Oh yeah..."

"I don't know anything about Bagman except that he used to be Beater for the Wimbourne Wasps," said Sirius. "What's he like?"

"He's okay," said Harry. "He keeps offering to help me with the Triwizard Tournament."

"Does he, now? I wonder why he'd do that?"

"Says he's taken a liking to me."

"Hmm..."

"Wouldn't be surprised if he's bet on you winning the tournament," Mel huffed. "Mr Weasley said to my mum he's very keen on beating on almost everything."

"We saw him in the forest just before the Dark Mark appeared, remember?" Hermione told them.

"Yeah, but he didn't stay in the forest, did he?" said Ron. "The moment we told him about the riot, he went off to the campsite."

"How d'you know? How d'you know where he Disapparated to?"

"Come off it," said Ron. "Are you saying you reckon Ludo Bagman conjured the Dark Mark?"

"It's more likely he did it than Winky," said Hermione.

"Told you," Ron rolled his eyes, "told you she's obsessed with house—"

"When the Dark Mark had been conjured, and the elf had been discovered holding Harry's wand, what did Crouch do?" Sirius interrupted.

"Went to look in the bushes," Harry continued, "but there wasn't anyone else there."

"Of course... of course, he'd want to pin it on anyone but his own elf... and then he sacked her?"

"Yes," Hermione kept going angrily, "he sacked her, just because she hadn't stayed in her tent and let herself get trampled —"

"Hermione, will you give it a rest with the elf!"

"She's got the measure of Crouch better than you have, Ron. If you want to know what a man's like, take a good look at how he treats his inferiors, not his equals." Sirius pointed wisely. "All these absences of Barty Crouch's... he goes to the trouble of making sure his house-elf saves him a seat at the Quidditch World Cup, but doesn't bother to turn up and watch. He worked very hard to reinstate the Triwizard Tournament, and then stops coming to that too... It's not like Crouch. If he's ever taken a day off work because of illness before this, I'll eat Buckbeak."

"D'you know Crouch, then?" Harry questioned.

"Oh, I know Crouch all right. He was the one who gave the order for me to be sent to Azkaban — without a trial."

"What?"

"You're kidding!"

"No, I'm not. Crouch used to be Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, didn't you know? He was tipped for the next Minister of Magic, he's a great wizard, Barty Crouch, powerfully magical — and power-hungry. Oh, never a Voldemort supporter... No, Barty Crouch was always very outspoken against the Dark Side. But then a lot of people who were against the Dark Side... well, you wouldn't understand... you're too young..."

"That's what my dad said at the World Cup," Ron scoffed. "Try us, why don't you?"

"All right, I'll try you..." A flash of a smirk appeared on the man's face. "Imagine that Voldemort's powerful now. You don't know who his supporters are, you don't know who's working for him and who isn't; you know he can control people so that they do terrible things without being able to stop themselves. You're scared for yourself, and your family, and your friends. Every week, news comes of more deaths, more disappearances, more torturing... the Ministry of Magic's in disarray, they don't know what to do, they're trying to keep everything hidden from the Muggles, but meanwhile, Muggles are dying too. Terror everywhere... panic... confusion... that's how it used to be."

"My mum found both of her parents dead... her own father had already retired, he wasn't on duty..."

"Times like that bring out the best in some people and the worst in others," Sirius nodded. "Crouch's principles might've been good in the beginning — I wouldn't know. He rose quickly through the Ministry, and he started ordering very harsh measures against Voldemort's supporters. The Aurors were given new powers — powers to kill rather than capture, for instance. And I wasn't the only one who was handed straight to the dementors without trial.

"Crouch fought violence with violence and authorized the use of the Unforgivable Curses against suspects. I would say he became as ruthless and cruel as many on the Dark Side. He had his supporters, mind you — plenty of people thought he was going about things the right way, and there were a lot of witches and wizards clamouring for him to take over as Minister of Magic. When Voldemort disappeared, it looked like only a matter of time until Crouch got the top job. But then something rather unfortunate happened... Crouch's own son was caught with a group of Death Eaters who'd managed to talk their way out of Azkaban. Apparently, they were trying to find Voldemort and return him to power."

"Crouch's son was caught?" Hermione asked in disbelief.

"Yep," Sirius was done with the chicken and was now digging through the loaf of bread. "Nasty little shock for old Barty, I'd imagine. Should have spent a bit more time at home with his family, shouldn't he? Ought to have left the office early once in a while... gotten to know his own son."

"Was his son a Death Eater?"

"No idea, I was in Azkaban myself when he was brought in. This is mostly stuff I've found out since I got out. Emily and Remus made sure to update me... the boy was definitely caught in the company of people I'd bet my life were Death Eaters — but he might have been in the wrong place at the wrong time, just like the house-elf."

"Did Crouch try and get his son off?" Hermione tried.

"Crouch let his son off? I thought you had the measure of him, Hermione!" Sirius laughed. "Anything that threatened to tarnish his reputation had to go; he had dedicated his whole life to becoming Minister of Magic. You saw him dismiss a devoted house-elf because she associated him with the Dark Mark again — doesn't that tell you what he's like? Crouch's fatherly affection stretched just far enough to give his son a trial, and by all accounts, it wasn't much more than an excuse for Crouch to show how much he hated the boy... then he sent him straight to Azkaban."

"He gave his own son to the dementors?"

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

Mel ached for the way Sirius' eyes darkened with anguish. The things that man lived on his own, innocent without the world knowing, without any friends...

"So he's still in Azkaban?" Harry brought her back from her wondering.

"No... he's not in there anymore. He died about a year after they brought him in. He wasn't the only one, most go mad in there, and plenty stop eating in the end. They lose the will to live. You could always tell when a death was coming because the dementors could sense it, they got excited. That boy looked pretty sickly when he arrived. Crouch being an important Ministry member, he and his wife were allowed a deathbed visit. That was the last time I saw Barty Crouch, half carrying his wife past my cell. She died herself, apparently, shortly afterward. Grief. Wasted away just like the boy. Crouch never came for his son's body. The dementors buried him outside the fortress; I watched them do it."

Harry reached silently for her hand and squeezed lightly, it made her feel a bit better.

"So old Crouch lost it all, just when he thought he had it made. One moment, a hero, poised to become Minister of Magic... next, his son dead, his wife dead, the family name dishonoured, and, so I've heard since I escaped, a big drop in popularity. Once the boy had died, people started feeling a bit more sympathetic toward the son and started asking how a nice young lad from a good family had gone so badly astray. The conclusion was that his father never cared much for him. So Cornelius Fudge got the top job, and Crouch was shunted sideways into the Department of International Magical Cooperation."

"Moody says Crouch is obsessed with catching Dark wizards," Harry told him, still very much holding her hand.

"Yeah, I've heard it's become a bit of a mania with him... If you ask me, he still thinks he can bring back the old popularity by catching one more Death Eater."

"And he sneaked up here to search Snape's office!" said Ron.

"Yes, and that doesn't make sense at all," said Sirius.

"Yeah, it does!"

"Listen, if Crouch wants to investigate Snape, why hasn't he been coming to judge the tournament? It would be an ideal excuse to make regular visits to Hogwarts and keep an eye on him."

"So you think Snape could be up to something, then?" asked Harry.

"Look, I don't care what you say, Dumbledore trusts Snape —" Hermione interrupted.

"Oh give it a rest, Hermione," said Ron impatiently. "I know Dumbledore's brilliant and everything, but that doesn't mean a really clever Dark wizard couldn't fool him —"

"Why did Snape save Harry's life in the first year, then? Why didn't he just let him die?"

"I dunno — maybe he thought Dumbledore would kick him out —"

"That would make sense," Mel nodded, wanting to give Ron a victory. "We heard it before, Snape's on his second chance already, maybe he's eager to gain Dumbledore's trust by helping us, but it doesn't mean he's reliable now... Maybe he saw no point in helping Voldemort, weak as he was..."

"What d'you think, Sirius?" Harry said, his grip so firm that she couldn't find it in herself to pull away.

"I think all of you got a point," said Sirius. "Ever since I found out Snape was teaching here, I've wondered why Dumbledore hired him. Snape's always been fascinated by the Dark Arts, he was famous for it at school. Slimy, oily, greasy-haired kid, he was... Snape knew more curses when he arrived at school than half the kids in seventh year, and he was part of a gang of Slytherins who nearly all turned out to be Death Eaters– Rosier and Wilkes — they were both killed by Aurors the year before Voldemort fell. The Lestranges — they're a married couple — they're in Azkaban. Avery — from what I've heard he wormed his way out of trouble by saying he'd been acting under the Imperius Curse — he's still at large. But as far as I know, Snape was never even accused of being a Death Eater — not that that means much. Plenty of them were never caught. And Snape's certainly clever and cunning enough to keep himself out of trouble."

"Snape knows Karkaroff pretty well, but he wants to keep that quiet," said Ron.

"Yeah, you should've seen Snape's face when Karkaroff turned up in Potions yesterday!" said Harry. "Karkaroff wanted to talk to Snape, he says Snape's been avoiding him. Karkaroff looked really worried. He showed Snape something on his arm, but I couldn't see what it was."

"He showed Snape something on his arm?" said Sirius. "Well, I've no idea what that's about... but if Karkaroff's genuinely worried, and he's going to Snape for answers..." He shook his head in mild frustration. "There's still the fact that Dumbledore trusts Snape, and I know Dumbledore trusts where a lot of other people wouldn't, but I just can't see him letting Snape teach at Hogwarts if he'd ever worked for Voldemort."

"What if he just wants to keep an eye on him? It's better to have him under his watch than free doing Merlin knows what," Mel offered.

"Why are Moody and Crouch so keen to get into Snape's office then?" Ron added, agreeing with her.

"Well, I wouldn't put it past Mad-Eye to have searched every single teacher's office when he got to Hogwarts. He takes his Defense Against the Dark Arts seriously, Moody. I'm not sure he trusts anyone at all, and after the things he's seen, it's not surprising. I'll say this for Moody, though, he never killed if he could help it. Always brought people in alive where possible. He was tough, but he never descended to the level of the Death Eaters. Crouch, though... he's a different matter... is he really ill? If he is, why did he make the effort to drag himself up to Snape's office? And if he's not... what's he up to? What was he doing at the World Cup that was so important he didn't turn up in the Top Box? What's he been doing while he should have been judging the tournament?"

Mel finally let go of Harry's hand to reread the Prophet's article.

"You say your brother's Crouch's personal assistant? Any chance you could ask him if he's seen Crouch lately?" Sirius asked Ron.

"I can try... Better not make it sound like I reckon Crouch is up to anything dodgy, though. Percy loves Crouch."

"And you might try and find out whether they've got any leads on Bertha Jorkins while you're at it," added Sirius.

"Bagman told me they hadn't," said Harry.

"Yes, he's quoted in the article in there: Blustering on about how bad Bertha's memory is. Well, maybe she's changed since I knew her, but the Bertha I knew wasn't forgetful at all — quite the reverse. She was a bit dim, but she had an excellent memory for gossip. It used to get her into a lot of trouble; she never knew when to keep her mouth shut. I can see her being a bit of a liability at the Ministry of Magic... maybe that's why Bagman didn't bother to look for her for so long..." Sirius drowned a yawn and rubbed his eyes tiredly. "What's the time?"

"It's half-past three," said Hermione.

"You'd better get back to school," Sirius said. "Now listen... I don't want you lot sneaking out of school to see me, all right? Just send notes to me here. I still want to hear about anything odd. But you're not to go leaving Hogwarts without permission; it would be an ideal opportunity for someone to attack you."

"No one's tried to attack me so far, except a dragon and a couple of grindylows," Harry said, then sent a playful smirk at her. "And Mel, when I don't listen to what she says."

"Very funny..."

"I'll breathe freely again when this tournament's over," Sirius shook his head, "and that's not until June. And don't forget, if you're talking about me among yourselves, call me Snuffles, okay?"

Mel snorted, but Sirius raised a brow at her.

"Are you serious?"

Sirius smirked.

"Yes, I am," He handed back the container that used to have food. "I'll walk to the edge of the village with you, see if I can scrounge another paper."

"We could send you ones so you don't have to go out there as often..."

"No, I like my walks," Sirius assured her. "It's good for me, see the sunlight every day... I'd missed it."

"Sirius, please reconsider my mum's offer," She said gently so it wouldn't sound like an accusation this time. "Please..." The look Sirius gave her was quite like anything else she'd seen, she didn't know what to call it. She only knew he wasn't pleased.

"We'll wait and see how things go, then we can revisit that, all right?" He sentenced, squeezing her shoulder gently. "Now let's get out of here."

"Wonder if Percy knows all that stuff about Crouch?" Ron asked them. "But maybe he doesn't care... it'd probably just make him admire Crouch even more. Yeah, Percy loves rules. He'd just say Crouch was refusing to break them for his own son."

"Percy would never throw any of his family to the dementors," Hermione assured them with certainty.

"I don't know," Ron grimaced. "If he thought we were standing in the way of his career... Percy's really ambitious, you know..."

"We know," Mel sighed, unconsciously reaching out for Harry's hand and holding it tightly.

"Poor old Snuffles," said Ron once they reached the castle. "He must really like you, Harry... Imagine having to live off rats."

Harry said nothing but he didn't let go of her for the rest of their walk.

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

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

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

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mostlikelyshutup · 5 years ago

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thoughts while watching the first harry potter:

listen i started this list a little late im ngl but notable thoughts so far are me thinking of dumbledore as a gay idiot and still loving hagrid

do you think hes speaking in parseltongue in the zoo when hes speaking to the snake

forgot boats existed

these idiots do scream a lot dont they

i forgot how light hearted this universe really is in the first couple movies

yer a wizard harry, okay hagrid maybe slide him into it a little better

we get it tuney you have fucking trauma, doesnt mean you should abuse a child

hasnt everyone had their name down since they were born, hagrid? theres a list

i like that his umbrella is pink

are you paying for those damages hargid? stop taking the door off the hinges

though, if the dursleys are, keep breaking shit

speaking about dragons on the the fucking tube, its a miracle harry didnt get in trouble with the ministry sooner

what is hagrid's usual? does anyone know???

fucking Quirrell, cant wait for your epic love story with the dark lord

maybe we should tell the 12 year old how the fuck everyone knows his name, just maybe

they do a great job of getting the wonder down pat

how much money and licensing do you think it took for them to get all these owls on set

ahh yes, antisemitism the bank

how many vaults are in gringotts?? also if harry's vault is the potters vault, a literal like sacred 28 family, one of the original families, and its number 600 something, how many were there before the potters?? did the potters get a vault recently? or is this james and lily's vault?? how rich were james and lily if so??

look at ollivander, crazy tinker uncle, love him

this might be the socialist in me but why do people have to pay for wands if everyone needs one??

why is the dark lords twin wand just sitting around on the shelf, ollie me boy??

do you think thats Harry's true wand or do you think thats because of the horcux thing?? do you harry had to get another wand after he died?? did he? i dont remember the last movie

is ollie me boys actor wearing contacts or are his eyes just like that??

thats a very weird way of showing Halloween 81, very misleading

hagrid said ill predict voldys rise in the first movie so we can have some plot development

hagrid is late to everything isnt he? i can feel it in my bones

i swear ive seen these movies, and ive even read the first book, i just dont remember shit

youd think theyd have someone in the know stationed close to the entrance for the platform, for any muggleborns

ginnys actress really had no fucking lines in this movie did she, just had to stand there

oh wait she said good luck

amazing work ginny

ooh a warm filter

can muggles see the express? like just running from london to scotland

wicked!

you didnt have to show the woman the sad sandwich ron

i think the trolly replenishes magically, i think thats how thats how that works, i want to believe that

god i cant tell if i would love or hate hermione, shes pretentious but so was i at that age

god dont fucking point your wand right in someones face mione

how does mione know who harry is?? why does she care?

look at the tiny first years, might just go and pinch theyre cheeks

MINNIEEEE i love you minnie

looking stunning minnie, the green brings out the sternness in your brow

you go minnie, give your speech, thats my head of house

shut up draco, youre not bond

you pretentious fuckwit, your hair is brassy anyways

if this is a class of kids born in the middle of a war, how big are the usual class sizes wtf

THE FUCKING CLAP

fucking propaganda ron, you slytherin hater

what order are these names going in, did they just randomized the list

oooh we get quiet for the boy who lived, jesus let him keep living

the fact that for the rest of these people its just silent is so fucking funny to me, Harry's just fucking whispering to himself

get their attention minnie

me dads a muggle, mums a witch, bit of a shock for him when he found out

NICK, love to see you buddy

i have no emotional attachment to peeves but i feel i should mention him here

the stairs still piss me off, why the fuck would you make moving stair cases

who sets out gloves for the next day? am i the weird one who doesnt??

Minnie, you are the love of my life

shut up snape you dramatic bloodpurist incel

i know theyre setting him up to be mistaken as the villain but jesus christ hes still an asshole

your robes Neville, you forgot your robes

its weird how they have to learn all these latin charms yet only have to say up to get their brooms to work

why wont you go after him, hes obviously not exactly in control, Hooch

does Hooch only teach first years? she is quite literally the equivalent of a history teacher who coaches football

what the fuck is Quirells classroom

they dont make the house teams because no first years can try out, Ron

MINNIE PLAYED QUIDDITCH?!?!? WHY DIDN'T I KNOW THIS

why didnt you speak up earlier Mione wtf

bc the fire wont give you away, harry, better hide

FLUFFY, WHOS A GOOD BOY

they have much worse things locked up in the school, Ron

Oliver wood is a bloody liar because i still dont fuckign understand quidditch, also theres like 500 rules, wtf

thats a shitty explanation of how the game works, Oliver

BLOW IT UP SEAMUS

SHES TWO FEET BEHIND YOU RON YOU IDIOT

carrot cake? on halloween?

dont shrug as if you didnt literally bully her ron

thought youd oughta know, bit of an understatement Quirell

no duh the trolls left the dungeon ron

lying: the best start to any friendship

we're at a net zero points for gryffindor for the year at the moment

the amount of interaction these kids have with professors is so weird to me, is this what small class size do to kids?? its weird

not comforting Oliver

Okay i understand Oliver simps now, I get it okay

are there no backups or subs for quidditch? feels like there should be, like of all the games

set him on fire mione, i know hes not the villain of the movie but god he sucks

fancy flying from harry fucking potter

okay but also i feel like there are some things we should not trust hagrid with, like hes not that great at keeping secrets

why is harry excited about christmas if he thinks hes not getting presents? i knw there are other aspects but like thats the only reasont o get up early

i always remember this scene at night for some reason??

not just an invisibility cloak, THE invisibility cloak ron

btw who gives it to harry? is it remus? is it dumbledore? is it like an inheritance thing? whats up with that?

there are jumpscares in harry potter

he very much can hide, filch

stop being a narc mrs norris

does harry even know what his parents look like at this point? how does he know who the fuck is in the mirror of erised?? he doesnt have that stupid scrapbook yet does he

oh they nod, sure lets clear up that plot hole

they shouldve put sirius and remus in the mirror in that scene, shown his whole family, wouldve been a nice setup

how does rupert grint already look so tired as a twelve year old

big speech to give to a twelve year old Dumbledore, when you wont even tell him what you see

Emma really does just slam that book on Daniels hand, thats mustve fucking sucked

the fact that ive watched two movies that had Nicholas Flamel in two very different roles this year is very strange to me

well thats probably on account of it being a fucking dragon egg hagrid, now isnt it?

was hagrid a hufflepuff? i think he was, maybe a ravenclaw

yes four, you blonde idiot

that shot is really nice, it sets them apart

what happened to filch to make him such a miserable man?

ooh mention of werewolves, awooo werewolves of london

yeah just dip your whole hand in hagrid, dont be scared of the strange liquid, take a nice little bath

i loev that dog, i want that dog, i want to hug that dog

god just the look of that forest is so bloody cool

wait so is that quirell walking fucking backwards?

maybe ask who the fuck youre talking to before asking other questions??? wtf harry

why are yout talking to the centaur like hes your old friend harry, youve literally never met him before

snape doesnt want the stone at all Harry

god hagrid you sweet stupid man

snape is completely valid for that, if a twelve year old ever looked at me like that i would punch them

Do you think people ever loose invisibility cloaks? like theyre invisible do you think they ever just never get found again

i hate the look of the dog spit, that is so gross

they really left everything in except for the fucking potions didnt they, damn

harry potter walked so queens gambit could run

hermione, posted up

rons stupid in the later movies because he got a concussion as a twelve year old

god harry really posted up to beat up snape in fucking khakis

"I knew you were a danger to me!" Hes twelve, Quirell

let me wait for this weird dude to unravel his head scarf instead of running away

the magic in this movie is real fucking conditional isnt it

just some casual necromancy for the stone? you sure about that voldy, you two faced bitch?

let me choke out this twelve year old real quick

oh yeah why is he able to just avengers endgame Quirell? is there an answer to that? like was that ever found out

do you think voldy passing by him while he hold the stone actually killed him but since he holds the stone hes functionally unkillable and then some magic gets put into him and thats why he can return to life later when he actually goes to the whole afterlife place?

ohhh we're vouching on the blood magic for the endgaming of Quirell

do you think dumbledore came across the vomit flavored bean before or after his sister died?

Mione's got a headband! Looking snazzy!

how did Hufflepuff only get 352 points? Gryffindor literally lost 150 points this year and they only beat them by 50, wtf, is it because they kept getting caught with weed

I wont even speak on the fucking outrage that is this point awarding, its already been spoken on. However, Neville shouldve gotten more points

What if someone just stood up and started challenging Dumbledores math, that would be so funny

some of these extras are really attractive

but james potter is somehow so fucking ugly why did they do that to my mans

hagrid deserves the last shot of this film, i love him, he deserves everything, that stupid sweet man

#harry potter #sorcerer's stone #harry potter and the sorcerer's stone #harry potter and the philosopher's stone #hermione granger #ron weasley #k mumbles #fred weasley #george weasley #ginny weasley #hagrid #rubeus hagrid #albus dumbledore #long post #james potter #sirius black #remus lupin

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bush-viper-cutie · 5 years ago

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“Shrieking Shack Ghosts” || YEAR 3 – Ch.28 (HP au)

Chapter List

<-- Last Chapter Next Chapter -->

Day posted: 10/16/2020

Word count: 3, 207

Relationship: EVENTUAL severus X oc (slow burn)

Rating: E for everyone

Warnings: none

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A/N: This is my first fan fic I’m writing mainly as a way to practice. This is a retelling of the hp books with an inserted character. Although most every character will be written about, this is mostly for the pro snape fandom. Please do not fear, although this is a severus x oc story, it is an incredibly slow burn as I do not intend for them to get together at all until after the final book events. Chapters will be posted twice a week.

This derivative work follows the events of the Harry Potter books by Jk Rowling and is intended as a fun way to practice my writing. Thank you for reading :D

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“Oh, of course you don’t look suspicious at all.” Heather crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her foot as Harry and Ron came down the stairs towards her. “Who would ever suspect you, carrying your school bag on a Saturday morning?”

Harry moved his bag to rest behind him instead of to his side. He crossed his arms back at her. “I’m just going to do some studying in the library after Ron leaves.” He looked around at the empty corridor but there was no need, everyone was at breakfast already, eager to get the day started.

She rolled her eyes. “We’ll both ‘go study’ today.”

They sat down with everyone and ate, trying to look somewhere between sad and bored and not at all excited to get down to Hogsmeade. They were careful not to look down the table at Hermione, who had told Harry last night she’d tell on him and get the map confiscated if she thought they were leaving the castle. Ron left, winking at them and saying ‘See you soon’, leaving them to finish eating their food slowly, looking miserable, as everyone else got up to leave and line up for Hogsmeade.

Hermione walked up to them, pushing against the river of students and sat down next to Harry, pushing her frizzy hair behind her ear. “I’m sorry. I really am but you must understand… It’s for your own good.”

“It’s ok. We’re just going to be studying in the library, I guess. Get some homework done so we have more free time.” Harry looked absolutely pitiful as he moved his breakfast around with his fork.

“Alright… I’m sorry.” Hermione got up and hugged Heather before running out the great hall.

The only people left were the second and first years, and a couple of teachers who hadn’t finished breakfast yet. They calmly got up and walked out, making sure to head up the entrance hall stairs before waving down to Ron and Hermione who both waved up at them with very different looks.

They hurried up to the third floor and opened up the one eyed witch. While Harry shoved his bag inside Heather opened up the map and scanned the halls. A tiny set of footprints were heading their way.

“Harry!” she hissed. “Neville’s coming!”

“How close?”

“Harry! Heather!” Neville had spotted them around the corner.

Harry quickly closed the witch’s hump and stepped back. They stood against the opposite wall as far back from the witch as possible to avoid suspicion.

“Neville. You aren’t going to Hogsmeade?” Heather slipped Harry the map and he stuffed it in his pocket. “Oh, I forgot.”

Neville stopped right next to them. “It’s part of my punishment. Hey what are you two doing? We could play exploding snap together! I’ve gotten good… kind of.”

Heather and Harry looked at each other.

Harry nodded. “Oh, that’d be great… But I have that vampire essay to do for Lupin. We’ll be in the library…”

Neville’s eyes brightened. “Oh, could I join? I haven’t done it either – ”

“N-no… oh Harry, remember we did it last night?” Heather put her hand on Neville’s shoulder. “Sorry we can’t work on it together.”

“You could help me with it then!”

It was clear Neville was desperate for company. They must be the only three people in their year not down in Hogsmeade right now. Maybe they could bring him along? Although it’d be hard to hide under the cloak with him… he was a bit larger than Ron and it was hard enough with just the two of them.

“Er – ” Harry was about to respond when Neville gasped and stepped all the way in front of them, looking over their shoulders.

They turned around and saw Professor Snape walked up to them with arms crossed and narrowed eyes.

“And what… are you three doing here?” His eyes slid from Neville to Heather and stayed on Harry. “An odd place to meet up with friends, isn’t it? – Potter.”

Heather watched Professor Snape’s eyes flick to either side of them, to the closed classroom doors, and then to the one-eyed witch a few feet away. He narrowed his eyes at it and raised a single black brow, looking back at them. He looked as suspicious as Hermione had during breakfast, the same doubtful kind of suspicion.

“We didn’t mean to meet up here we just – ” Harry looked at Heather, “…happened to.”

“Really.” Professor Snape drummed his fingers on his elbow and took a few more seconds to cast them wary eyes. “It’s often your habit to turn up in places you aren’t supposed to be in – especially – places you shouldn’t be in.” He looked from Harry to Heather and she looked down. “I suggest the three of you find somewhere else to be, like your common rooms. I believe I should have assigned enough essays to keep you busy this weekend?”

They nodded and turned on their heels, heading away. Harry turned to look back at him as they rounded a corner but Heather pulled him forward. They walked all the way up to Gryffindor Tower when Heather stopped and pulled Harry to a halt.

“Harry, will you drop me off at my common room?”

Neville was holding the portrait open.

“Oh – er – yeah. It’s on the way to the library and… I forgot I left the essay there last night. See you, Neville.”

“I’ll get my textbook down,” he said and went inside.

“I feel bad for lying to him. Can’t we – ”

“No.” Harry pulled her away and took out the map as he went down the stairs. Once they were away from the security trolls guarding the portrait he pulled it up to his nose and squinted at the tiny words. “Passage is clear. Snape’s on the second floor. Why’s he always just walking around?”

They headed down the stairs to the third floor again, examining the map one last time for anyone nearby.

“His office now. And – ” Harry continued. “He examined the statue. D’you think he knows about it?”

Heather opened the witch’s hump and waited for him to clear the map and put it away. “No, or he would have found your bag.” She pushed it aside and walked in, careful not to slip and fall down the incline. She lit her wand the second the statue closed behind her, before they could be cast in total darkness.

The passage walls looked rough where the light hit as they walked, their steps echoing slightly. It was an odd kind of quiet inside, like the whole world was suddenly muffled. Outside the tunnel, walking around even the quietest of passageways, distant talking or laughter or even birds singing and cawing outside could be heard. Inside the tunnel, it was like silence was the permanent state of things and the thought of talking felt rude and disrespectful to the darkness up ahead.

They walked for several minutes before the eeriness set in, and her mind wandered to places it shouldn’t. The same kind of fear that they weren’t alone in the tunnel, and that Sirius Black would be waiting for them some feet ahead crept in more powerfully than the first time they walked through the tunnel. She was leading the way and hesitating with each step she took, holding her wand out as far as she could, willing the light to reach farther ahead.

“D’you think Ron and Hermione will ever be friends again?” she asked, attempting to distract her mind and calm her racing heart as they walked.

“Why would he examine the statue? He must think something.”

She couldn’t believe he was still stuck on Professor Snape. “Harry. He isn’t an idiot you know. All Slytherins know he can smell out trouble a floor away and you’re always getting in the middle of things that get us into trouble. I’m pretty sure I’d be top of his class if he didn’t hold a grudge against me because of you.”

“But I haven’t done anything this year.”

“You’re doing something right now.”

“WE’RE doing something.”

She decided not to respond. They reached the end of the tunnel eventually and, under the invisibility cloak, they emerged out of Honeydukes and looked around for Ron, spotting him sitting on a bench across the street, eating candy.

They walked up to him and Heather kicked his foot lightly. “Here. Finally.”

“What took you so long!” Ron frowned and got up, stuffing his candy back in his pockets. “It’s been an hour.”

They set off down the street walking next to Ron as he tried his best not to look like he was talking to himself.

“Snape was hanging around the statue.”

“Harry thinks it’s weird Professor Snape was suspicious of us.”

“He was suspicious of the statue.”

“If he knew about it he would have told Dumbledore.” Ron tried to keep most of his mouth shut as he talked. “Or he would have hidden in the tunnel waiting to catch you. It would’ve made his day – or life – depending on how many detentions that gets you.”

“Or he’s caught Fred and George around there too.” Heather wondered how Fred and George managed their mischief with him around. She never saw them in the same room together, apart from breakfast and dinner. Maybe they purposefully stay as far away from him as possible… with the map that would have been easy, just taking opposite stairs or walking down different passageways.

“In here,” Ron said out of the corner of his mouth, stopping right outside the Owl Post.

He pretended to look at cards to send to his brother Bill in Egypt while her and Harry looked around. The Owl post was a small looking shop two levels high, except it had only one floor. Walking in, there was a front desk and hundreds of different letter-related things in organized clear drawers all around the first level walls. Then, up high above their heads were hundreds of owls hooting and looking down at them, twisting their heads in curiosity.

Heather had the feeling they could see them under the cloak, but none came down to inspect them, not even when Heather tempted fate and held her arm up under the cloak to see if one would land on it. Harry pinched her and she tried not to yelp, quickly putting her arm back down.

“Where are you?” Ron muttered.

They pulled on his sweater and they left.

“Zonko’s next.”

They followed Ron into the shop and found it incredibly hard to remain hidden surrounded by so many students and children packed all around looking at products. Heather hated it inside, being reminded of the only time they’d been in a toy store with Dudley and his greedy hands touching every toy he could reach. Back then she’d been taller than both Harry and Dudley and was forced to reach up and grab things for him. The fact she nor Harry were allowed to touch anything made the experience much worse.

Harry, however, happily gave Ron coins to buy several jokes and tricks. He stuffed his pockets with Dungbombs, Hiccup Sweets, Frog Spawn Soap, and Nose-Biting Teacup apiece.

“I hope you aren’t planning on using those.”

“Who are you? Hermione?” Ron said bitterly.

What little Hagrid’s talk did for Ron yesterday had been quickly erased by Hermione’s threat and he was back to hating her. The wind threatened to blow the cloak off them and they decided it’d be best to get away from the town. It was a nice day aside from the cold and Ron thought it would be less scary to visit the Shrieking Shack.

“I tried going up here last time with – well you know who – but the snow made it hard to look at properly. I thought there was someone on the lawn but it was just a snowflake stuck to my eyelash.”

For it supposedly being the most haunted dwelling in all of Britain, it didn’t look so scary. It looked like it was swaying in the wind, ready to topple onto itself any second. The paint was a dark cream color and the roof a light grey. The windows were all boarded up and the door had several chains on it. There were surprisingly no visible holes or missing boards but it still looked like it was falling apart. It looked lonely and sad, not scary.

“Creepy,” Harry said.

“What’s supposed to be so scary about it?”

Ron leaned on the fence and swallowed. “No one can get into it – Fred and George tried of course – but it’s sealed shut. But everyone in town swears at one point or another, they’ve heard terrifying sounds coming from inside. I asked some of the ghosts about it and they say they avoid it and warn students to avoid it too.”

It was the only house on the hill and hidden safely behind a forest of short and thin grey trees with almost black looking leaves all dried but still hanging onto their branches. Whatever noises the town heard must come from something incredibly loud to travel all the way down passed the woods.

“It’s getting hot under here.” Harry reached for the bottom of the cloak when he stopped.

Heather heard Draco before seeing him climb over the hill, walking the dirt path between the tree lines towards them.

“ – remind me about the owl I’ll be getting from my Father. I’m sure the hearings going well. He’s telling them I couldn’t use my arm for three whole months.”

Crabbe and Goyle sniggered behind them, a little more winded than him from climbing.

“Imagine that big hairy moron trying to defend that stupid bird. ‘He won’ ‘arm anyone, honest. He’s innocent, he is – ‘ can you imagine?” He shook his head and spotted Ron suddenly. His smile turned into a wicked grin and his quick steps slowed and smoothed. “Ah, Weasley. House hunting, are you? Bit of a dream house for you though, isn’t it?”

Ron’s face went red as he scowled. “Leave me alone Malfoy.”

“I supposed it’d be a big step up. Maybe with this one, your family won’t have to all sleep in the same room. And you won’t be sleeping in a cupboard – oh wait, that the Potters, isn’t it?” Draco laughed and looked at Crabbe and Goyle happily as they laughed too.

Heather felt her own cheeks go red at the mention of their old room situation. Ron took a step forward but Harry pulled on the back of his shirt.

“I’ll take care of him,” Harry hissed into Ron’s red ear.

“No!” Heather tried protesting but there wasn’t much she could do unless she wanted Harry to walk away, cloak and all.

Heather followed Harry around behind Crabbe and Goyle and crouched down with him as he picked up mud.

“Don’t,” she tried again but he didn’t listen.

“We were just talking about that oaf friend of yours. Well, you know him best. D’you think he’ll cry at the mention of that hippogriff getting its head – ”

Harry quickly stuck his muddy hand out from under the cloak and flung as hard as he could, hitting the back of Draco’s head, covering his silver-blonde hair with thick brown muck.

Draco whipped around, looking angrily behind them. “What was that!” His anger melted into confusion when his frantic eyes spotted no one.

Harry and Heather had crept back around to stand to their far left. Harry picked up a moss covered stick and flung it, hitting Crabbe wetly on his neck.

“Argh!” Crabe started punching the air, taking quick steps towards them with every punch he gave.

“I think you made the house mad, Malfoy.” Ron leaned against the fence, pointing a thumb towards the swaying shack.

Draco finished rubbing the mud off him when he seized Ron’s sweater. “You’re doing this!”

SPLAT.

“It’s got me!” Goyle wiped green-ish mud off his uniform.

Draco swirled around, looking at Goyle and Crabbe hitting and kicking at the air. Heather was crouching down, covering her mouth with her hands trying not to burst out laughing. Harry was standing above her, ready to throw a stick when one of Crabbe’s kicks caught a bit of the cloak and pulled it down.

Harry quickly caught it at his neck and pulled it back up but Draco had already spotted him, pointing and screaming at where Harry’s head had appeared and then disappeared. Crabbe and Goyle hadn’t seen but ran back down the hill as soon as Draco yelled. Draco ran after them, looking somewhere between angry and scared.

Ron pointed down the hill. “You guys better run! He’s probably on his way to tell on you! Get to the castle fast – ”

“See you!” Harry yelled and pulled Heather up by her arms.

She had been frozen with dread the second Draco had pointed in their direction and screamed. As they ran down the path to Hogsmeade, she couldn’t help but picture him bursting through the doors screaming at the top of his lungs that he’d ‘just seen Potter in Hogsmeade!’ at everyone.

They got down to the town and the first thing she spotted was the apothecary sign swaying in the wind across from the Three Broomsticks.

“Wait!” She ducked out from under and ran in.

If she was going to get in trouble for going into Hogsmeade, then she had to make it at least worth it. She slammed the list down on the counter and huffed at the old man staring at her red and sweaty face. He took it without a word and started putting it all together in a white cloth bag. She could hardly enjoy the experience, thinking about whether anyone would believe Draco. It wasn’t common to have a cloak, and Draco probably thought Harry or any other non-pureblood wouldn’t have one… but Professor Dumbledore knew they did. And she was sure Professor Snape, even if he didn’t know about the cloak, would be highly suspicious of them.

The old man set the bag of ingredients on the counter and waited for her to count up her coins. He gave her a polite nod as she handed them over and picked up her things, running back out of the store. She looked around wildly but found absolutely no hint of where Harry was. Did he leave her?

Just as her panic began to worsen, she felt something push her into the alley between shops and she ducked under the cloak again.

“You’re mad!” Harry hissed. “Let’s go!”

The apothecary hadn’t taken any longer than five minutes max, but it felt like she had doomed them already. She stuffed the bag strings through her skirt belt loops and tied it closed, stuffing the bag up into her sweater and stuffing the sweater end into her skirt, keeping the bag of ingredients tucked inside neatly.

They ran inside Honeydukes, slipped in the back shop door, and down the stairs into the trap door. Heather could only hope, as they ran as fast as they could, wands lit and extended out, that the tunnel was a shorter distance than the path leading up to the school.

~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~

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#harry potter #heather potter #pro snape #severus snape x oc #severus snape x reader #severus x oc #severus x reader #snape x oc #snape x reader #snape fanfic #snape fanfiction #snape fan fiction #fanfic #fan fiction #fanfiction

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acciocrzychickfics · 5 years ago

Text

Getting Use To

Author’s Note: Just a little something I wrote at work today after I mused on a HC about how I think Tonks and Remus prepped for their Order mission’s with a drink. Might be OOC but I thought why not. Could be set in canon, probably OotP, if you want it to be.

Tonks was nervous. She knew she shouldn’t be. It was like any other night. She was just going out with Remus for drinks. They were just friends. Nothing more. They always did this the night they were given an Order assignment. To mule it over. Discuss it. Make their plan of attack. However, she thought friends didn’t kiss or wake up in bed together.

She wasn’t sure how it happened. It just happened. Both had a little too much to drink that night.

“Come on, Remus. Just one more game” Tonks pleads, grabbing his hand so he can’t leave.

Looking back at her, “one more. But I get to choose”

“Oh, and what will that be?” Tonks asks sipping on her brandy. For some reason, she decided she was going to not have her regular, rum.

“Hold your fingers up, love,” Remus commands mirroring her holding his own five fingers up. It didn’t even occur to either one of them, that Remus had called her love instead of Tonks. “Now, I will say something I have never done. If you have ever done it, you put your finger done. Once all five fingers are down, you must finish your drink.” He has played this when he was in school with his friends.

Tonks eyes him suspiciously trying to gauge how this new game will go. “You start.”

“I have never flown to pick up a baby dragon in secret.” Remus begins eyeing the woman across from him to see her reaction.

“How did you find out?” Tonks asks her dark eyes wide open. “Did Charlie tell you?”

“My sources must remain anonymous.” Remus muses, subconsciously moving closer to her as she puts a finger down.

“I have never been underground,” Tonks replies knowing that he knew she was targeting him.

Remus puts a finger down and takes another sip of his whisky. “I have never sat across from a more beautiful woman.”

Tonks looks up, her dark eyes meeting his brown “what did you say?”

“Um,” Remus hesitates summoning up the courage to repeat what he had just said “I said I had never...”

“I know what you said but about me?” Tonks asks knowing that her strong exterior was fading fast the more she had to drink.

Remus, not knowing if it was the alcohol or that he just wanted to move closer, inching closer to her “how could you ever not think you are beautiful?”

Not meeting his eyes and shrugging her shoulders, he cups her chin and looking into her eyes, “I can tell you, I have never interacted with a more beautiful creature than you.”

Running her hand through his sandy brown hair “the feeling is mutual, you know?”

Both of them intensely gazing at each other as if there was no one else in the room before Remus whispers confidently “want to get out of here?

Tonks glances at the man trying to gauge what will happen next, nods taking his hand and lacing her fingers in his.

—-

Walking towards their regular table at the Hog’s Head, she notices Remus mulling over his already half full butterbeer. Agreeing silently that if they were going to have this conversation, they would need to do it sober.

“Wotcher, Remus” Tonks calls waiving awkwardly to him as she takes a seat across from him.

Remus looking up as if he just now notices he’s not the only one in the pub and nods.

“Got the orders?” Tonks continues trying to make up for her weird hello.

Pulling out of his satchel a series of parchment, he begins to look over them “basically it’s just watching the door at the department of mysteries.”

“Moody mentioned he would let us borrow his extra invisibility cloak. He mentioned it to me before I left. It all makes sense now” Tonks elaborates remembering the confused look on her face wondering what Auror assignment she would be assigned that would require her an invisibility cloak.

Both of them seemed to be dancing around the elephant in the room. However, Tonks did not want to bring it up and Remus didn’t.

“Tonks, is that you?” a voice asks from across the room.

“So much for laying low, huh?” Tonks whispers to Remus as he cracks a smile. “Penny, what are you doing here?”

“I noticed you through the window. I thought I’d come by.” Penny answers not understanding what was going on with her school friend.

“Ah, I was just about to leave actually. Auror interview.” Tonks elaborates trying her best not to let her friend know she was in a secret society. Most wizards and witches still believed the Ministry’s propaganda that Lord Voldemort had not returned. It was not that she did not trust Penny, it was more if she did not trust the environment they were in.

“Oh, interviewing werewolves, I see” Penny whispers just enough for Remus to hear.

“No, actually it’s for the Sirius Black case.” Tonks corrects her knowing she had seen the Daily a Prophet article about Remus teaching at Hogwarts. Trying to stay calm, Remus squeezes her hand under the table letting her know it was alright. “It has nothing to do with him being a werewolf.”

“Oh” Penny admits trying not to be embarrassed at her misunderstanding “Sorry”

“It’s alright. I get that a lot” Remus muses then eyeing Tonks with those beautiful eyes “are we done?”

“Yes, the interview is done” Tonks replies hoping he would stay around. She could always apparate back to Grimmauld.

“Well I’ll let you be, Tonks” Penny exclaims “We need to catch up.”

“We do” Tonks mutters in a reply. “I’ll owl you.”

Once Penny was out of sight, Tonks catches up with Remus “I don’t regret it.” Turning around, Remus stops in his place. Chuckling, “I have a feeling based on your face, you do not either.”

He did not realize that he had a smile plastered on his face. “I’m still trying to grapple with the concept that you don’t mind being with a man, who is too old, dangerous, and poor for you.”

“I don’t care, you know” Tonks answers trying her best not to smile but falling short. Pulling his jacket towards her by his lapels, bringing him in for a kiss. “you know I could get used to this.”

#Remadora #remus lupin #nymphadora tonks #remus x tonks #penny haywood #hp fanfiction #remadora fanfiction

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missnight0wl · 5 years ago

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Jam City fused Y6 and Y7 - the analysis

So, I mentioned a couple of times in the past that the Statue Curse starting already in Y6 just doesn’t really make sense. I’ve been also discussing recently how Y6 is a hot mess to put it lightly, and one of the conversations with @nightingaletrash – who inspired that analysis with some of her ideas - made me realise that it really does feel like the current year in the game has content from two separate years. Because if you start to dig through that pile of rubbish, you kind of get two routes which make a little more sense on their own than what we’re seeing now. So… let’s get deeper into it. Why am I doing this? I mean, they fucked up so badly by now that it doesn’t really matter. But I dunno, I guess I just feel like organising something.

Oh, and just to give you a better picture of my thought process. The way I imagine how Jam City works right now is that they have the original concept for the story, but it’s still just a concept. Like, it has the main events and perhaps some details, but when they have to figure out things on their own, they get lost – hence all inconsistencies etc.

Now, without further ado, let’s discuss how those years should’ve looked like based on what we know already.

YEAR 6

All right, so I’m basically certain that Y6 was supposed to be dedicated to ONLY Rakepick, Jacob, and R (possibly also the Cabal and all that good juice in general). The funny thing here is that if the Statue Curse indeed wasn’t planned for Y6, it’d actually explain why Jacob didn’t ask about it even once. It always bothers me about him, to be honest. Not only it contradicts past Jacob (who was always worried about victims of the curses), but it’s also… pretty stupid? Like, dude. You want to catch Rakepick, she’s after the final vault, so by finding the vault, you’ll find Rakepick. Dontcha think that getting interested in the curse could be useful? But let’s start from the beginning.

So, Y6 starts pretty much the same. New Ben, angry Merula, “problems” with Beatrice, yadda yadda yadda… Then, we have the first change: Beatrice doesn’t find the petrified victim. We just go to the Divination class and get the prophecy. Trying to decipher it with the Weasleys inspires us to go to the Centaurs for help, and so we go on our gifts hunt (y’know, the herbs, the astronomy chart, and Hagrid’s Rock Cakes). We go to the Centaurs Camp. Then, we can throw some Haywoods drama in between (though I’d remove it….), we see a missing skull in the Artefact Room, so we follow Ben to Knockturn Alley. There, we meet Fletcher who tells us that the Wizard in White from Y5 is back. We talk about it with Dumbledore who suggests that the Wizard in White is from Mahoutokoro. Later, we meet with Charlie who also brings us to Bill’s surprise visit. Bill offers us (and our friends) private DADA lessons… but oh no! The twins are missing! We search for them, the Weasleys are extra worried because there might be SOME new curse at Hogwarts (remember, there’s no Statue Curse here). We finally find the twins, and they tell us that they followed Jacob – allegedly. This sends us on another hunt, this time after Jacob. We hear a lot of suspicious things about him (his weird behaviour at the Library and at the Flourish & Blotts), and finally, we find him in Knockturn Alley. Jacob tells us that R sent the assassin after us and Merula. We duel, and Jacob runs away again. We go back to Hogwarts, we meet Cedric (or not, because we don’t really need it), and BUM! Sickleworth with the White Quill! And so we chase that little rascal! Now, here’s another little change: when MC loses track of Sickleworth, they decide to go to the Hospital Wing because Rakepick might be trying to investigate the victims. Interestingly, it’s the ONLY time anybody talks about the possibility of her being interested in this, even though she paid a lot of attention to the victims of the Sleepwalking Curse and the Portrait Curse (so it has to be important from the curse-breaking point of view). Therefore, I’d say that it was a one-time fluke that Jam City remembered to mention that after the changes to the original concept…

All right, but we’re after Sickleworth again. He leads us to Jacob’s room where we also find Jacob himself. We ask him wtf is he doing there and how he even got in (like, aren’t we using Tulip’s lock anymore? anyone can enter there?). AND HERE’S WHERE WE START THE PLOT WITH THE MINISTRY HEIST. And I know what you’re going to say, BUT… I still believe that it was planned by Rakepick. Because look, there are just too many convenient coincidences on our way to find out about her Dark artefacts (allegedly required for the final vault) for it to ACTUALLY be a coincidence. As a reminder, this is how it goes:

After we get the White Quill from Sickleworth, Jacob wants to follow the Niffler to find Rakepick. He doesn’t let us go with him, but he let us go find the white owl (which is suspicious as fuck because dude believes that the White Quill was sent by R, so technically he sends us ALONE to find someone from R who has a white owl). Our investigation eventually leads us to the Hog’s Head Inn where Aberforth tells us that the white owl belongs to Rakepick (a reminder: Aberfoth was seen talking to Jacob before his expulsion). Like, just think about it for a moment: Rakepick was in the middle of a day in a very public place in Hogsmeade, where even students go occasionally, with A FREAKING WHITE OWL. She had to want to be followed. And so, we follow her to Knockturn Alley. There, Fletcher told us that Rakepick was angry, and that she needs some Dark artefacts from Hogwarts. Fletcher told us that. A guy who’s terrified of Rakepick. I mean, if those artefacts were really that important, Rakepick would tell Fletcher to not tell anyone about it, especially MC! And he’s too scared of her to not listen! (Also, another reminder: during our Legilimency session in Y5 with the Headmaster, we saw a memory of Dumbledore talking with Fletcher. Interesting coincidence, hm?) So again, we go back to Hogwarts, and we eventually go to Snape who - instead of telling us to get lost - informs us kindly that the artefacts were protected with some unknown magic. He also let us know that he passed them to Dumbledore. And what Dumbledore does? He tells us that the artefacts are in the Ministry. And look, Albus might be a jackass, but he’s not stupid. He knew that MC would try to break into the Ministry. So why he told us about it? Because for some reason, it’s important to both him and Rakepick that MC would get to those damn artefacts. I actually had a thought recently that it was the first attempt to let MC know about things we learnt in Y5Ch35 (more on that meeting: here).

Anyway, we start planning our heist, with an Invisibility Cloak (borrowed from Badeea because fuck you, Alistair) and all. Unfortunately, freaking Moody interrupts us and tell us about the escapee who’s after us. We assume that it’s the same assassin Jacob talked about. The school freaks out because of that – and NOT because of Madam Pomfrey getting petrified. We also sneak out at the Lakeshore because while there’s still no curse, we do have the Trident, so we can as well start searching around the Black Lake (because in this scenario, MC actually can use their brain cells, at least sometimes). We get “attacked” by the Wizard in White, and we get detention (or not because it was totally meaningless). In the meantime, Talbott tells us that he saw the white owl dropping a letter. We decipher the message about more White Quills, we go at the Lake to find them, we learn about Dementors coming to Hogwarts. Moody sells us his bullshit that Jacob saved us from the assassin, so we want to find our brother in his room, but instead, we find with Ben another Black Quill. THAT Black Quill addressed to Jacob about their meeting in the Forest Grove. We decide to go to that meeting. Rowan dies (or “dies”).

The events after Rowan’s death are pretty much the same, including the formation of the Circle of Khanna. We still have Charlie, Barnaby, and Liz working on creatures in the Black Lake, even though the curse is not active yet, but we have enough clues to suspect that (the Trident + MC actually remembers the note found in the Weird Sisters TLSQ about the Sunken Vault). One change: we confront Moody more strongly about where the hell was he. Because he was allegedly responsible for the Dementors at Hogwarts, so why he even still has his job? We also learn more about whether or not there’s any investigation, about Rowan’s parents etc. Alanza arrives, and here things are also pretty much the same so far. Bill convinces us to go back to the crime scene where we actually find the necklace – which was the obvious connection to the Ministry heist - or anything else important. We meet Torvus who tells us that Firenze has the interpretation of our prophecy, which is foreshadowing for our future confrontation with vault!Jacob (more here). Hearing about another loss, we feel the need to meet our brother. We go to Duncan, to the Boathouse, and we finally meet Jacob. We confront him about where the fuck he was when Rowan died, what happened with the assassin when he allegedly chased him, and what the fuck was it about with that letter which R wrote to him. He sells us some bullshit: that Rakepick manipulated him after his expulsion and that he went after the Cursed Vaults because he felt worthless, yadda yadda yadda. We call him out on that or we talk with someone else about it: that Jacob always wanted to protect his loved ones and Hogwarts, and that’s why he got involved with the Vaults. Therefore, what he’s saying now doesn’t make any sense. Then, our meeting with Jacob is interrupted by Beatrice in the Lake. Although, I’d personally remove that part as well as her whole chapter - unless we could learn from that something important about Y5. In its current form, it didn’t really add anything. But either way, this is the point when we went to Hagrid and Kettleburn to ask about Grindylows (Y6Ch28), which eventually led to the Whomping Willow. You know, that “the most stupid transition in the history of writing”:

creatures in the Black Lake -> Giant Squid -> big dangerous creatures -> big dangerous things -> Whomping Willow

But here’s something interesting. George in his friendship activities has this question:

I assume it has to be a left-over from the original concept. Because it doesn’t really make sense for George to help us with that in the future if we’ve already spent time researching the Whomping Willow. So, I believe that George (or both twins) were supposed to help us with that part instead of Ben and Merula. Here’s my proposition:

After we confront Jacob about Rowan’s death, whether or not we find Beatrice in the Lake, we later meet George/the twins who told us that Jacob disappeared mysteriously around the Whomping Willow. It can be also connected to the Marauder’s Map. Let’s say that they confess that they saw it on the Map, and perhaps even when they went missing earlier this year, they didn’t actually see Jacob, but they saw his name on the Map. I mean, I assume that the Map had to return at some point in some way. Either way, it reminds MC that Jacob had some notes on the Whomping Willow in his room, we search for it with George, we also find some of Rowan’s notes. We go to the Whomping Willow, with the twins or someone else, and we find the Black Quill containing the message about the meeting at the Borgin and Burkes. And here’s where the big role is played by our team dedicated to spying:

I know that technically a lot of them take part in the whole action (Tonks, Jae, Andre), but it’s just bizarre to me that they weren’t addressed as THE TEAM who was created for situations like this. Also, Tulip wasn’t even included in any of that. I’m pretty sure that Jam City ignored it because they switched their focus to the Black Lake plot a little earlier, and they got fucking lost.

The rest can go pretty much the same: we find out about the mole etc. Except, WE STICK TO THAT. We find out that Merula who is the mole, and that leads us to the end of the year, with the conclusions about Jacob, Rakepick, R, and the connections between all of that.

YEAR 7

Of course, a lot depends on how Y6 would actually end, but in general, we have to put in here everything which we removed from Y6. So, shortly after the start of the new school year, someone (might be still Beatrice) finds the first victim of the Statue Curse. We put more focus on the “creatures team” (Charlie, Barnaby, Liz) who were slowly doing their research all that time, step by step. Badeea and Talbott also had more time to work on their map. Eventually, Madam Pomfrey gets petrified, so we have to speed up. We enter the Black Lake, we meet the Merwoman, and we move to the whole plot with music and the Weird Sisters. And the best in all of that is that the Maestro’s Music Shop in Hogsmeade is indeed a location unlocked in Y7:

So, it all fits perfectly.

I dunno, I feel that even if MC was still dumb and all, such separation of themes in Y6 makes things a little clearer, and simply makes more sense. Also, maybe it’s just me, but I feel like the inconsistencies happen more often in the subplots related to the final vault. For example, when Moody told us about the escapee, MC used their brain cells to figure out that it might be the same assassin Jacob talked about earlier. Kind of similar situation was when we found the necklace in the Forest before Rowan’s death: MC actually remembered that Rakepick’s Dark artefacts are supposed to be at the Ministry. But when it comes to the final vault, a lot of things are being repeated over and over again, MC didn’t remember that Pince and Binns already research the Merpeople, Alanza didn’t remember that we met the Weird Sisters a couple of chapters earlier etc. It’s as if the writers didn’t keep track of what they already moved from Y7...

I have no idea why they decided to mix everything up, though. They clearly don’t have a good grasp of the story, so no wonder we’re getting a hot mess. Again, why? Perhaps they’re buying some time before the grand reveal about Jacob/Rakepick/Rowan? It’s the only thing that comes to my mind, to be honest, though it’s still stupid. If you want to build up suspense among the players, we need some clues to what could really be happening etc. But no. They had in their notes to make Alanza mention that Rakepick smells like cinnamon, but it was too hard to figure out that maybe it’d be a good idea to use it in the context of her Polyjuice Potion etc. Sigh…

Anyway, we’re doomed – but it could’ve been not bad! Like, I didn’t really change much, just organised it a bit. And the weird thing is that mixing plots won’t create more content for them. It’d be the same in the length, just more confusing for everyone. I mean, they won’t manage to finish both plots (with R AND the final vault) by the end of Y6. One of them or both will have to be moved to Y7. So, it should’ve stayed separate, to begin with, if you ask me.

#long post #hogwarts mystery #hphm #hphm mc #jacob's sibling #hphm jacob #hphm r #patricia rakepick #wizard in white #alastor moody #albus dumbledore #aberforth dumbledore #mundungus fletcher #circle of khanna #sunken vault #jam city #year 6 #analysis post

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gameofdrarry · 4 years ago

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Wizards Hearts Recs: Quidditch Player!Draco

Wizards Hearts was a four-month-long Drarry reading fest. Players were given a playing deck of 52 tropes, and were asked to find 52 different fics to read and comment on to fill their decks. To prevent the same few fics from being read, fics were restricted to only being used for the game three times before being considered ineligible for further points. The tropes and submissions list can be found here.

Check out the masterlist of fics for this trope below the cut!

📜 Seeker, Chaser, Keeper by VivacissimoVoce Rated: Mature Words: 59181 Tags: Quidditch, Romance, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Humor, Falling In Love, Competition, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Post-Hogwarts, Snark Summary: Rumor has it that a wealthy investor is starting up a brand new professional Quidditch team and he’s looking for players. Harry and Draco both want to make the team, but there can be only one Seeker. Will competing for the position bring them closer or drive them further apart? ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Coming Home by PalenDrome (nerdherderette) Rated: Mature Words: 9828 Tags: Major Character Death, Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Ghost Draco Malfoy, Auror Harry Potter, Quidditch Player Draco Malfoy, Loss, Grief/Mourning, Angst and Feels, Marital Bonds, Bonds Beyond Time, Flashbacks, Domestic Fluff, Mild Sexual Content, Ghost Sex, Mentions of Offscreen Canon-Typical Violence, Loneliness, Drinking, Reckless Driving, Hopeful Ending, Moving On, H/D Hurt!Fest 2020 Summary: Three years after his world was shattered, Harry tries to pick up the pieces at the place he once called home. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 The Guest by BummedOutWriter Rated: Mature Words: 59826 Tags: Kid Fic, Mpreg, Time Travel, Boggarts, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Auror Harry Potter, Quidditch Player Draco Malfoy, Seer Draco Malfoy, Grimmauld Place, Chudley Cannons, Slytherins Being Slytherins, Visions, Potions Accident, Prophecy, Truth Serum, Humor, Animagus, Family, Bottom Draco Malfoy Summary: In consequence of an accidental spell, Harry and Draco's five-year-old daughter is sent ten years into the past, where she meets her teenaged parents. Awkwardness ensues. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 The Falmouth Falcons Conundrum by slytherco Rated: Teen And Up Words: 1177 Tags: Press and Tabloids, Quidditch, Quidditch Player Harry Potter, Quidditch Player Draco Malfoy, Getting Together, The Daily Prophet, Press Articles, Gossip, Secret Relationship, Fanart, Snippets, Illustrated Summary: A collection of The Daily Prophet snippets over the years after The Falmouth Falcons recruit a new Beater, one Draco Malfoy. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Closer by fanfictionbubbles Rated: Explicit Words: 11480 Tags: Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Quidditch, Magic Theory, Quidditch Player Draco Malfoy, Quidditch Team Owner Harry Potter, Quidditch Injuries, Injured Draco Malfoy, Bets & Wagers, Post-Hogwarts, Oblivious Harry Potter, Sexy Draco Malfoy, Stubborn Harry Potter, Humor, One Shot, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, H/D Fan Fair 2019, Secondary Theme: Book Fair Summary: Harry makes a bet with Ron when he's not paying attention and ends up one Quidditch team up. Fine, he can deal with that. But then he finds out who the Seeker is and suddenly there's a whole lot more to deal with. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Pottering with Potter by keyflight790 Rated: Mature Words: 3606 Tags: Wizard Wireless Network, Dirty Talk,cListening for that Smut, Bad Radio Shows, Bad Slogans, even worse puns, Some Dad Jokes, Draco thinks Harrys homophobic but he's definitely not, The boys really need to learn how to talk to each other, No apologies are made by the writer for the bad jokes, Mentions of Sex, hearing, TasteofSmut 2020 Summary: Harry doesn't know why he has a wireless show either, but he's going to make the best of it. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Rookie Moves by Elle Gray Rated: Explicit Words: 60061 Tags: Quidditch, Auror Harry Potter, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Hotels, Charlie Weasley is a pillar of gayness and a great confidant, Friendly Squib, French National Team, Harry wondering if he's a bit gay, Witch Weekly meddling again, Rookie Aurors, shit coffee, Draco in a towel, Benedict Cumberbatch is probably a wizard, Nobody has forgotten the fiendfire, Scientific explorations of gayness, Shower shananigans, Blowjob or sandwich?, wanking, Blatant and enthusiastic nudity, shit got explicit!, a tiny bit of bondage, Bickering, Humour, Harry ties a few really good knots, Kink, but only entry-level kink, Explosions, Toast, a lot of tea, Veritaserum, frottage?, Lots of conjured lube, Hermione's chicken pie, That weird owl is back again, Switching, Wandless Magic, Español | Spanish, Eggs Benedict, English National Team, Dodgy Transfiguration, Misunderstandings, Funny, Snarky Draco Malfoy, Banter, Coming In Pants, Lemon Scented Draco Malfoy, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Outercourse, Robards has no boundaries, Chanero, Slut Shaming, A 16 year old human has SEX, oh no, Quidditch Player Draco Malfoy, Bodyguard, accidental magic, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Shibari, Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, Bisexuality, Bisexual Harry Potter, Gay Draco Malfoy, Sex God But Still Insecure Draco Summary: So the war's over and Harry's a Rookie Auror, and everything seems... fine? I mean, he's single, his life is mostly work and he hasn't been out in ages and he's tired and annoyed most of the time, and he should probably be a bit more social, but the last time he kissed a girl he had to Obliviate her... but that's normal, right? And then Robards throws him a file, yells at him a bit and he finds himself guarding Malfoy of all people, and maybe that little feeling in his gut he thought he'd disproved as indigestion once and for all.... maybe was something else. Something lots gayer. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Of Mirrors, Farms and Quidditch; AKA Luna Fixes Everything by twistedmiracle Rated: Mature Words: 23554 Tags: Masturbation, Blow Jobs, Mutual Masturbation, Harry Potter/OMC - Freeform, Community: hd_erised, Post-Hogwarts, Quidditch, harry is a farmer, Draco plays professional Quidditch, Luna and Pansy run a matchmaking service, Ron and Hermione have a teething infant and a sleep deficit, Don't copy to another site Summary: Harry's got his whole life under control, and everything is great! Well, except for the bloody, hideous press. And he's kinda… lonely. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 The Kisses Don’t Count, If No One Else Knows by oldenuf2nb Rated: Explicit Words: 41492 Tags: FeelsFriends With Benefits, Secret Relationship, Pretend Relationship, Misunderstandings, Switching, Sexual Tension, Blow Jobs, Rimming, Anal Fingering, Snarky Draco Malfoy, Sexy Draco Malfoy, Long-Haired Draco Malfoy, Pining Harry Potter, Quidditch Player Draco Malfoy, Minister for Magic Harry Potter, Head Auror Ron Weasley, Undersecretary Hermione Granger, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Post-Second War with Voldemort, Wizarding Politics (Harry Potter), Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, H/D Sex Fair 2020 Summary: Minister for Magic Harry Potter does not love his job. The one bright point in his life is his secret relationship with Quidditch Super Star Draco Malfoy. When they're 'outed' by a peeping tom with a camera, Harry has to decide what's really important. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Nimble Fingers by Ladderofyears Rated: Explicit Words: 2627 Tags: Quidditch Player Harry Potter, Quidditch Player Draco Malfoy, Masturbation in Shower, Inappropriate Erections, Fantasizing, Banter, Flirty Language, Invisibility Cloak (Harry Potter), Nudity, showering, Mutual Masturbation, Voyeurism, Exhibitionism, Peeping, Orgasm, Happy Ending Summary: Draco is happily masturbating in the showers after Quidditch practice when he gets a surprising visitor. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Do I Make You Cringe? by Theartfulldodger Rated: Mature Words: 4710 Tags: Quidditch, Professional Quidditch, Angst, Angry Harry, Seeker Draco Malfoy, Beater Harry Potter, Pining, Mild Sexual Content, Adult Language, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Alcohol, Falmouth Falcons, Shower Sex, Sort Of, Hand Jobs, Quidditch Player Harry Potter, Quidditch Player Draco Malfoy, Casual Sex, Friends With Benefits, POV Alternating, Harry does not deal with trauma very well, Draco has caught the feels and just wants to help, Tattooed Harry Potter Summary: Harry and Draco play for the Falmouth Falcons, a professional quidditch team known for its questionable sportsmanship. While they've been sleeping together casually for months, Draco wonders if Harry's means of coping with his past might prevent them from having more. ❤️ Read on AO3

#quidditch #quidditch player draco #drarry #drarry recs #game of drarry #wizards hearts #wh masterlist

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xstick-noodlesx · 5 years ago

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My sister and I talked about weird things in the wizarding world (1/?)

@akira-vargas

-the castle is way too big

-the stairs keep moving and I bet every student was late because of that at least once

-candles everywhere are a fire hazard, especially floating ones

-all the dangerous things that Dumbledore keeps should NOT be kept in a school for children or the surrounding woods (eg. trolls, three-headed dogs, giant fuck-off snakes, giant spiders, the stone, …)

-Dumbledore is an irresponsible principal

-he just hires teachers that he likes without any background checks

-he hires Remus and doesn’t check whether or not he goes somewhere safe or takes his potion during full moons

-kids can participate in deadly tournaments

-the “treasures” are literally other children that were basically taken and put on the bottom of a lake

-one of the teachers bullies children to the point that one child’s biggest fear is literally that teacher

-instead of sending kids to normal detention, he has them walk around the dangerous, beast filled forest in the middle of the night

-someone is petrifying students and Dumbledore doesn’t think of sending the students home

-kids could literally fall from the moving staircases if they move while the kids are on them

-talking pictures are creepy and you can’t convince me not at least one of the pictures creeps on the kids

-when Hogwarts presumes Sirius is looking for Harry, they just go along with their day and don’t try to give him extra protection at all

-no phones, sending important messages through owls would take way too long

-the whole Sirius situation proves how incompetent the ministry is and no one – not even Dumbledore – thought twice of locking someone up without proper trial

-they have literal house elve slaves

-the Black family is literally abusing their kids and no one thinks twice about it and why? because they're an old wizard family

-travelling through toilets

-Dumbledore's first instinct after finding little Harry with his parents dead is to give him to his aunt and uncle who he knows hate wizards

-why can’t Harry just bring a gun or a knife or smth to a fight

-why do they have to use feathers and not pens – just the thought of writing my A-Levels with a feather instead of a pen physically pains me

-they don’t use ANY muggle technology like lamps, telephones, etc.

-the only muggle technology they use are like toilets and before that, they literally shat on the floor

-the only prison we ever hear of is Azkaban but imagine going to Azkaban and being in the cell next door to a murderer for stealing an owl

-also, the fact that Azkaban is supposed to be high security and literally every other person breaks out

-are there any people working at Azkaban or do the Dementors cook the meals for the prisoners??

-the only thing the Dementors really do is inconvenience and nearly kill children

-why isn’t time travel used more like if you’re careful it should be fine

-care for magical creatures is way too dangerous for children, it’s like us interacting with wild bears

-the fact that Dobby could block the entrance to the platform 9 ¾ without any problems so that two students couldn’t get to school is “dumb as shit” (quote, my sister); it’s like some random dude coming up to your school, locking the door and keeping you out and no one does anything about it

-why send first years across a lake at night in little boats with only the groundskeeper to supervise them; safety hazard

-they have not enough teachers I feel

-are there only like ten beds for each year for each house? what if there’s one student more?

-the fact that they have to use a password to get into their house

-the fact that the Ravenclaws have to solve a riddle to get into their house so what if someone else just happens to solve the riddle???

-they use the same old hat to sort every student and what if one of the students have lice then every first year after that student will have lice

-how much food gets thrown away every day at Hogwarts???

-are there more wizarding schools than the four we know of? like is there one in Germany? Or Poland? Or Iceland? Or South America? Imagine being an eleven-year-old German child and being sent to Hogwarts and knowing little to no English because, well, you’re an eleven-year-old child

-is there sex ed in Hogwarts??

-Gryffindor wins everything; you can tell they are Dumbledore’s favourites

-the wizarding world basically has the death penalty or the soul-sucking penalty which is just as bad

-prisoners are basically abused and/or neglected when in Azkaban

-they had one detention where a student has to sign autographs late at night with his teacher

-the only competent defence against dark arts teacher gets fired because he transformed into a werewolf on school grounds which is something that Dumbledore should have been able to prevent

-Snape isn’t only bullying children, he also bullies his colleagues and NO ONE gives a frick

-the fact that a little girl died on the school grounds and another student was framed and convicted; none of the teachers faced repercussions because of the negligence

-the fact that that little girl is now a ghost and peeping on other students on the toilets

-the fact that there are no safety measures taken during quidditch?? what if a student falls from their broom??? What if someone gets a bludger to the face???

-why is there a restricted section in the school library??? If the books are dangerous why are they in a school library???

-why does harry get to keep the invisibility cloak??

-don’t they have PE for like the students that don’t want to play a dangerous broom flying sport??

-why is there a literal roller coaster with a dragon down in the bank basement??? Why is it such an inconvenience to get some money from the bank???

-the houses themselves make no sense?? Like personalities can change??

-some student died during the tournament and there are no repercussions?? No one is sued??? No one is angry at Dumbledore or the other headmasters???

-what if you need to talk to Dumbledore but don’t know his stupid office password??

-why do they have one book that just screams at you when you open it???

-or a book that tries to eat you as soon as you open it??? And you need to like pet it to open it

-why is everyone angry that one of the teachers is a werewolf but no one cares about giant squids, murderous mermaids in the lake, giant spiders, giant snakes, etc??

-if I was a parent and my child would be bullied by Snape you can bet your butt that I’d have him fired

-Dumbledore is constantly encouraging Harry’s reckless behaviour

-the fact that you have to get parental permission to go to Hogsmeade

-how is a cat or a toad supposed to bring you your mail??

-why can every student bring a pet?? That seems like such a mess to me. What if I’m allergic to cat hair and my roommate has a cat?? What if his cat murders my owl??

-why are the Weasleys allowed to bring a rat?

-why is no one talking about how Peter Pettigrew was literally sleeping in the same bed as an eleven-year-old boy as a rat??

-the owls are in little cages??

-the fact that students get to turn their animals into objects should count as animal abuse

-why are there so many cats but not a single litter box?

-did the other cats try to get with McGonaggal??

-why did the school allow the Ministry to literally slaughter Buckbeak on school property?

-there was a cell at the ready for Sirius at Hogwarts and they talk about dungeons under the school? Why? it’s a school for children

-has a student ever walked in on McGonaggal while she was licking her own butthole?

-did she take part in the cats movie? And was she part of the butthole cut??

-am I allowed to bring Mr Mistoffelees, a magical cat, to school with me?

-the fact that Madame Hooch left all the kids alone with their brooms to take care of Neville

-how can a giant squid survive in a literal lake?

-were they planning on basically executing Sirius on school grounds?

-do they have a police force that takes care of minor crimes like shoplifting?

-do they have wheelchair ramps at Hogwarts? Do people get to bring their seeing-eye dog

-the long staircases to the towers

-why is the Slytherin house literally underground? Like no sunlight?

-Having houses only encourages bullying

-can I get a normal job or university place with my Hogwarts degree?

#i know some of therse may be explained on pottermore but i don't care #long post #original post #rant #harry potter #harry potter and the philosophers stone #harry potter and the chamber of secrets #harry potter and the order of the phoenix #harry potter and the goblet of fire #harry potter and the prisoner of azkaban #Albus Dumbledore #ron weasley #sirius black #remus lupin

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inv1s1bleghost1345 · 5 years ago

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🦉Harry Potter Asks🦉

👶Harry: Do you consider yourself brave?

Yes I try to be

📖Hermione: What is your favorite book at the moment?

Lost roses and Midnight at Austenland

👨‍🦰Ron: Are you scared of spiders:

No but I'm not a big fan of them

🐍Voldemort: What 3 items would you choose to be your horcruxes ?

Nokia 3310 -Blue

Furby

A flower inside a deadly plant

🧙‍♂️Dumbledore: Do you have many secrets?

Yes but only spoken to the right person

😑Snape: If you could read anyone's mind for a day who would it be?

lol I’m good

🐶🌕Remus:If you faced a boggart, which form would it take?

Emptiness

🐕Sirius: If you became an animagus which animal would you choose ?

A bat

(Just for a laugh a chicken no one would expect it)

😤Draco: Be honset ,do you worry about social status?

No not at all

👩‍🦰Ginny: Who would you let read your diary ?

Someone who is very special

🌱Neville: Are you passionate about any social causes?

Yes recycling clean energy and climate change

🌙Luna:Do others tend to think of you as strange?

Very much so but the best people are

🎆Fred: Have you ever played a prank on someone?

Of course who hasn't?

🎇George:Is humor important when considering a significant other?

Very much so ,I have to have someone to joke and play around with.

🥶Bellatrix: Are you easily manipulated by confident or powerful people?

Nope I’m pretty much my own person

🐾Hagrid:If you could have ant creature as a pet (regardless of the law) which would you choose?

Muggle world:

Giraffe

Giant tortoise

Bat

Wizard World

Fire crab

Bowtruckle

Hippogriff

🏏Viktor:Are you athletic?

I try to be, just I’m not very good at it

🌬Fleur: Is physical appearance important to you?

Nope not at all personality is way more important.

🥳Tonks: If you could change yoir hair to any unnatural color without damage,cost or regrowth which color would you choose?

Teal or vibrant purple

🐷Kreacher:Would you protect your friends and family's secrets at all costs?

Indeed I would they trusted me to do so unless it would harm them or others.

👁Mad eye: Are you trusting of other people?

Not at all but I do try my best too.

🙉Lockhart: Do you ever elaborate on personal stories to improve your image?

No I pretty much suck at everything so hard to hide that lol

Dobby:

What is your favorite item?

My stuffed animals

🦉---------------------------------🦉

48 Harry Potter Themed Asks

Hogwarts House:

🦡Hufflepuff🦡

Patronous:

🐬Dolphin🐬

Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade:

Diagon Alley

Butterbeer,fire whiskey or Pumpkin juice?

🍻Butterbeer🍻

Favorite shop:

🍨Honeydukes and Olivanders 🥢

You quidditch team:

🦅The Holy Harpies🦅

Top favorite ships:

Remus and Sirius

Luna and Snape (platonic)

Harry and Draco

Ginny and Luna

Scorpious and Albus

Otp:

Scorpious and Albus

Notp:

Snape and Dumbledore

Hogwarts,Beauxbatons or Drumstrang?

Hogwarts

Your wand:

Firwood unicorn haircore 11inch reasonably flexibility

Owl cat or Toad?

Owl

Character you most identify with?

Luna and Neville

Character you would bring back to life?

Fred and Hedwig

Character you just hate with no good reason.

Colon Creevy

Character you just want to be happy:

Draco and Neville

What does amortenia smell like to you?

Wonderful things *blushes and refuses to answer*

Favorite Hogwarts class

Potion Care of magical creatures and Herbology

Least favorite Hogwarts class

History of Hogwarts

Favorite professor

Professor Sprout or Mcgonagall

Centaurs mermaids or ghosts?

All of them!

Chocolate frogs or Bertie and Botts beans ?

Chocolate frogs

Zonkos or Weasleys Wizard Wheezes?

Weasley's Wizard Wheezes

The Leakey cauldron or the The Three Broomsticks?

The Leaky Cauldron

Lowkey ships

Tom and Ginny Weasley

Dean and Seamus

Favorite Marauder?

Remus Lupin

The knight bus or broomstick travel?

Broomstick travel

Unicorn or Thestrals?

Thestrals

Your go to spell?

Oculus reparo

Expecto patronum

Scourgifey

Protego

Accio

Quidditch postion or spectator?

Yes on the Hufflepuff team as a chaser

Favorite friendship

Oliver Wood and Harrt

Ginny and Luna

Dean and Seamues

Animagus?

Yes I would be a bat

Wizarding world job?

Herbologist or Magizoologist

Dream Yule ball date?

My fangaroo

Gobstone or wizards chest?

Wizards chest

Crookshake or Pidwidgeon ?

Pidwidgeon

Potion expert or charms expert?

Probably charms but its hard to pick

Your broomstick type?

Nimbus2000

Favorite common room

Ofc the Hufflepuff one ;)

The Quibbler or Daily Prophet?

The Quibbler

Favorite of the Golden Trio?

Hermione

Fantastic beasts or cursed child?

Fantastic beasts

Invisibility cloak ,elder wand or resurrection stone?

Invisibility cloak

Favorite minor character

Sir Cadogan

Weird Sisters

Lee Jordan

Harris or Gambon?

Gambon

Would you apparate?

Yes always everywhere

Favorite book?

The Prisoner of Azkaban

And Half Blood Prince

Who would be your BFF?

Ginny Neville and Luna would be my crew lol

🦉---------------------------------🦉

#personal #hogwarts sona #hogwats mystery #hogwarts sorting #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #harry potter #hogwarts oc #September 1st #back to hogwarts #huffleproud #hufflepunk #hufflepuff

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alindakb · 5 years ago

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Letters to my Parents - Thursday 5 Augustus 1993 - by Alinda

Thursday 5 Augustus 1993

Dear mom and dad,

I ran away from home yesterday. Don’t get mad, please. It’s just that Aunt Marge came to visit. She’s a horrible person. And I kind of lost my temper when she insulted you both. The week had started off so good. On the night of my birthday, I received a letter from Draco, the first one this summer. He was okay and still allowed to go to Hogwarts the coming school year. He said it had helped that Hermione hadn’t had enough time to study for her exams, making it possible for him to become the top of our class. It had helped his mother to convince his father. Not that they are on speaking turns. Draco says they are fighting all the time. He hides away in his wing of the house (I still can’t believe he has his own wing, I’m already glad I finally have my own room) to avoid them the best he can.

Included with Draco’s letter was my first ever birthday card. I placed it on my bedside table while I read his letter. But I was interrupted a couple of times. Firstly by Hedwig who came back with a birthday card from Hermione. She’s in France, enjoying her holiday by learning about the local history of witchcraft. A little later Ron’s family owl Errol showed up with a card from Ron. He is in Egypt with his family after they won the Daily Prophet Grand Prize Galleon Draw. Ron is also getting a new wand next year, which is good because that broken wand of his causes more problems than it solves.

I also received a card from Greg. His family didn’t go on holiday, says they haven’t for years. Not since his brother died anyway. I still need to ask him about that and tell him I’m sorry. My trying to kill myself brought back a lot of nasty memories for him. He told me he’s been to visit Draco once this holiday and that Draco looks to be doing okay. He only talks about me all the time now I’m not around him. Greg begged me to tell him to stop obsessing about me so they can talk about Quidditch and stuff.

Hagrid send me a card that included a present. And off course, it was no ordinary present. I hadn’t even unwrapped it fully when the parcel quivered and started to snap loudly. I took my lamp and raised it over my head so I could strike if it was necessary and then pulled off the rest of the wrapping paper. A large book fell out of it with a beautiful green cover. Before the book scuttled sideways and then fell off the bed with a loud clunk I could read the title, written in golden letters. The monster book of Monsters it said. The book hid under my desk. When I tried to grab it, it snapped shut on my hand. When it tried to escape I jumped on it and then held it closed with a belt tightly buckled around it.

Together with Hagrid’s package came also my Hogwarts letter for the coming year. It was the normal stuff, informing me that the school year will start on the 1st of September and a list with the books and supplies I will need. But it also included a permission form to visit Hogsmeade. That made me a little sad because there was no way Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia were going to sign it for me.

By then it was already two o’clock when I could sit down in peace with my flashlight and the letter Draco had sent me. I read it a couple of times until I almost knew every word by heart. As I said, he’s hiding out in his own wing. He finished all his homework in the first week of the holiday and is now reading this interesting book about potions. He misses me a lot, says it’s weird to sleep alone in his massive bed. His mother is taking him to Diagon Alley to get his supplies the Sunday before school starts and he hopes I can go that day as well, so we can finally see each other again. He misses kissing me. And to be honest, so do I. His lips are always so soft. I dream about them at night.

The next morning Aunt Marge came to visit. You know I’ve told you about her before. She’s Uncle Vernon’s sister, the one and only bulldog breeder. She was the one that beat me with her walking stick on Dudley’s fifth birthday to stop me from winning musical statues. And a few years later she gave me dog biscuits for Christmas. And the year before I went to Hogwarts I accidentally (and maybe a little bit on purpose) I stepped on the tail of her favourite dog. The beast had chased me into a tree and Aunt Marge didn’t call him off until long after midnight. And now that nightmare was visiting again, for a whole week. It was the worst birthday present I ever got from the Dursleys.

So for an entire week, I had to pretend that I went to St. Brutus’s Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys, was not allowed to do any ‘funny’ stuff and I was to keep a civil tongue when talking to her. I woke up Hedwig as soon as Uncle Vernon left to tell her to go stay at the Weasley’s for a week, that it wouldn’t be safe for her to stay with Aunt Marge around. I’m sure one of her dogs would go after her. After that, I made sure all my cards and letters from friends, just like my schoolbooks were put away safely.

And it was a nightmare, from start to finish. First, she said that if I had been dropped on her doorstep she would have sent me straight to an orphanage. Then Uncle Vernon made me pretend that they use the cane at St. Brutus to please Aunt Marge, who assumed straight away that I probably got beaten all the time. The next couple of days Aunt Marge made sure I stayed close so she could compare me to Dudley and to boom out suggestions for my improvement.

On the third day of her visit, she crossed a line. She told Uncle Vernon that it was not his fault that I turned out o be an unsatisfactory person. That if there was something rotten on the inside, there was nothing anyone can do. I had to fight tears when she said that, it reminded me of all the bullying that I had received in my first and the start of second year at Hogwarts. She continued by comparing me to her breeding dogs. She said that if there was something wrong with the bitch, there’ll be something wrong with the pup. I got so upset when she said that. I could feel my magic flare through me and Aunt Marge her wineglass exploded in her hands. It didn’t seem to bother her at all, she thought she had just squeezed it too hard. I fled the room after that, afraid I would get another warning from the Ministry about using magic outside of school.

The warning never came, but the insults from Aunt Marge continued. And then yesterday, just after dinner when Aunt Marge was hammered from the wine she turned on me again. Told me I had a mean, runty look, just like some dogs. And then she told us that she had Colonel Fubster drown one of her dogs last year because it was weak. I looked down at my hands when she continued, small tears falling from my eyes. She went on, explaining it all comes down o blood and that Aunt Petunia’s sister was a bad egg. That she was stupid to run off with a wastrel and that I was the result of that. She then asked what you did for a living, dad and Uncle Vernon said you were unemployed. And then Aunt Marge just went on, saying you were a no-account, good-for-nothing, lazy scrounger and I just snapped. I pushed my chair back, stood up and screamed at her that you were not. She laughed at me, joked about the tears I was shedding and then she suggested that you died because you were driving drunk I couldn’t take it and yelled that you didn’t die in a car crash. This made Aunt Marge angry, she, of course, doesn’t know the truth and still believes you dying in a car crash is the trued. She called me a nasty little liar, an insolent, ungrateful little something. She couldn’t finish her sentence, her body was swelling, her face expanded, her tiny eyes bulged, and her mouth stretched too tightly for speech. Then the buttons from her tweed jacket burst. She just kept swelling. I knew I was doing it, but I couldn’t stop it. I was so angry. I’ve never been that angry before, it scared me a little.

I don’t know what happened to Aunt Marge after that, I ran out of the room towards the cupboard under the stairs. The door burst open before I reached it. I think I did that too with my magic. I took my trunk out of the cupboard and then raced upstairs to grab the pillowcase with my books, letters and birthday cards. I sprinted back down and placed the pillowcase in my trunk. At that moment Uncle Vernon came into the hallway and ordered me to come back and put her right. I don’t know why, but I wanted to hurt Uncle Vernon at that moment. I grabbed my wand and pointed it at him. For a couple of seconds, I wanted to jinx him, to hurt him and punish him like he used to punish me. And then I thought of Draco and how disappointed he would be if I wouldn’t show up at school because I was in jail. And I thought of you, knowing you wouldn’t want me to hurt anyone. So I just opened the door behind me and left without saying a word.

It took me a while to calm down. Dragging along my heavy trunk helped with that. When I reached Magnolia Crescent I collapsed onto a low wall. It didn’t take long before I started to panic then. I was sure I would get expelled from Hogwarts because I did magic and even harmed a Muggle doing so. I was afraid I was going to get arrested, or outlawed from the wizarding world. And that made me think of Draco, and how I would have to leave him if that was true. I couldn’t force Draco to leave the wizarding world, he knows nothing about Muggles and their ways. I started to cry again, wishing I could be with Draco at that moment. I needed him more than ever.

After another while, I decided that since I would already get expelled I would just use some more magic to bewitch the trunk to make it feather-light. That way I could tie it to my broomstick, cover myself with the invisibility cloak and then fly to London to get my money from Gringotts and start my life as an outcast. I opened my trunk to look for the cloak when I felt like someone was watching me. I looked at the black alleyway behind me, even used a Lumos to see it better. And that is when I saw it, a hulking outline of something very big, with wide, gleaming eyes. It scared me to death. I stepped backwards, I hit my trunk and tripped. My wand slipped out of my hand and then there was this massive bang sound and I was surrounded by blinding lights.

I yelled and rolled back onto the pavement, just before a purple triple-decker bus stopped beside me. The name ‘The Knight Bus’ was spelt in gold lettering over the windshield. A conductor leapt out of the bus and introduced himself as Stan Shunpike. He spoke loudly into the thin air until he noticed that I was sitting on the ground. I got back up, looked for the massive black dog I had seen only moments before, but it was gone.

It turns out the Knight Bus can take stranded wizards and witches anywhere they need. I didn’t want to put too much attention on me so I pretended my name was Greg Goyle. I’m sure Greg won’t mind, I’m sure he will find this story funny once Draco tells him when he goes back to school. It would take me 14 Sickles to get to Malfoy Manor in Wiltshire, so I looked for my last coins and paid Stan. He helped me get my trunk into the bus and off we were. Stan wanted to know why I wanted to go to the Malfoy’s and I told him that I knew Draco Malfoy from Hogwarts and that I was going to stay with them for a while because my mother wasn’t feeling well. Luckily they believed my story and didn’t ask any other questions.

The Knight Bus doesn’t have normal seats, instead, it’s filled with half a dozen brass bedsteads. Once I set down on mine the bus took off with another loud bang. It threw me back flat on my bed because of the speed of the bus. I felt really nervous on the bus. The driver, Ernie wasn’t a very good one. We kept mounting the pavement, only the bus didn’t hit anything. Everything jumped out of the way of the bus as it approached and back into position once it had passed.

I couldn’t sleep, so I took the Daily Prophet that Stan offered me. On the front page was a large photo of Sirius Black, an escaped prisoner. I had also seen him on the Muggle news. It turns out he murdered thirteen people with a single curse twelve years ago. He looked just like a vampire in the picture. Stan saw me looking and told me that Black had been a big supporter of Voldemort. And once Voldemort was gone and he was cornered In the middle of a street he blasted half the street apart, killing one wizard and a dozen Muggles. And after that, he just stood there and laughed, like it was one big joke. It seems that this Black is off his head. And he’s the first one ever to break out of Azkaban.

After all the other wizards and witches had left the bus we came to a stop on a small country road. Stan said we were at Malfoy Manor. When I got out I could see a large hedge stretching in both directions. In front of us was a gravel driveway, and the large hedge curved with it and continued alongside the driveway. I took my trunk and started my way up this driveway until I reached a large iron gate. The gate contorted into a face and asked me if I knew what time it was. I told it, that I was sorry for bothering him that late, but that I really needed to speak to Draco Malfoy. The gate informed me that the young master Draco had already gone to bed and that I would have to come back after sunrise. I tried to convince the gate that I had nowhere to go, but it wouldn’t let me pass. After a while, the face disappeared and I was stranded in front of the gate. I set down on my trunk and tried to think of a way to let Draco know that I was at his house. No good ideas came to mind and after a while, I felt stupid for even thinking I could just rock up at Malfoy Manor and that everything would be okay. Draco’s father hates me after all and me showing up, as a criminal, won’t help matters much for Draco.

I decided to turn around, walk back to the road and call for the Knight Bus again and go to London. I could wait till morning and then get my money and disappear. I would write to Draco and tell him what happened and maybe meet up with him somewhere to say goodbye.

Just as I started walking someone stepped through the gates. I looked around and saw Draco’s mother Narcissa standing with her arms folded around her. She was wearing a long black jacket and a purple scarf. She asked me if I was leafing already and pointed out that Draco would be very disappointed when he would hear I didn’t even stay to say hello in the morning. I couldn’t help myself, I started crying again at that point. All the tension and fear leaping out of me at once. Draco’s mother was very kind, she hugged me and told me it was all going to be okay. She guided me through the gates, it was very weird, they didn’t open at all, just turned into some black smoke and were back being a solid gate once we passed it. The rest of the driveway was shielded by the large hedge all the way up to the house. It was dark, so I couldn’t see it properly, but I knew it was larger than any house I’ve ever seen before. I hope I get to see it a bit better later today, but for now, I’m stuck in Draco’s wing to make sure that his father doesn’t see me.

Narcissa brought me to a room on the first floor that held a bed and some other small furniture. She order a house elf to get me something to drink and eat and then made sure I told her what had happened. She told me I could sleep here for now, but that it wasn’t wise to keep me at the manor since Lucius still didn’t approve of me and Draco’s relationship. She told me Draco was only two doors away, asleep in his own bed. I can’t believe how kind Narcissa is, she insisted I call her that, that miss Malfoy makes her sound old. And I like it when she smiles at me, it reminds me of Draco’s smiles.

Once Narcissa had left me alone to sleep I crept out of the room to find Draco’s bedroom. It wasn’t hard at all and I was stunned by how big it was. Draco has a king-sized bed. It’s fairly simple, just a bed base with a mattress on top of it. Now that I’ve seen it in the light of day it really looks amazing. It has two simple black boxes next to it as bedside tables and a large desk stands on the other side of the room. One of his walls is filled with Quidditch posters and the picture of us together that Dean made for him is really stuck underneath Draco’s pillow. And Draco has a walk-in closet filled with all his clothes. Oh, and he has a massive en suite bathroom with a massive bath and a cabinet filled with all his crazy hair products.

Of course, Draco was really surprised to see me sneak into his room yesterday, but he didn’t hesitate for one moment, he just lifted his blanket and let me crawl into bed with him. He asked me if he was dreaming. I told him I was really here. Then he asked me why I was at his house and I told him that I had run away and that I was afraid that I won’t be going back to Hogwarts because I did magic. Draco said it would be okay, that the Ministry would understand that it was an accident and that I shouldn’t worry. He kissed me then and that made my worries ebb away. I fell asleep in his arm and woke up with him staring at me. It was really nice.

Narcissa came to look for us in the early morning and wasn’t even upset when she found me in her son’s bed. She told us to stay in Draco’s wing until Lucius would have left for the day. She told us the elves would bring us breakfast and now we’re just waiting for it to arrive. Draco keeps asking me when I’m going to put my book down and pay him some attention. I told him I had to tell you all about what happened and he stopped complaining after that. He’s reading a book right now, his hand entwined with mine on the bed. I’m really happy I’m here now and somehow I’m not that worried anymore about what is going to happen next.

I will let you both know as soon as I do what is going to happen now. If I get expelled or not and if I can stay here for the rest of the summer. I really hope I can.

Love you,

Harry James Potter

#letters to my parents #drarry #harry in slytherin #dursley family #running away from home #narcissa malfoy #malfoy manor #Draco Malfoy #AlindasStories

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