#and Life Inside the Harry Potter Phenomenon

[charmedreincarnation]

Hey I’ve read a little about the law and I kind of don’t care about it. I’ve manifested well without it and honestly it just seems like an over complication so I can still get into the void without using it, because most people do, but everyone on tumblr seems to disagree with that sentiment

Funny story, I actually shifted before I even properly leaned about the law.

I remember this one girl on Reddit who was a very popular shifter told everyone that the key to shifting was the law of assumption and Neville Goddard lectures. She shifted to Harry Potter after understanding his lectures and it only took her only a week after being on her journey for two years.

At this point, I was sooo depressed and down bad to shift. I had tried every single method under the sun on Reddit, Quora, amino, YouTube, and others methods derived from religion….so her telling me this man was my key was an absolute dream. Again I was down bad, so atp I would have eaten cow shit if that’s what it took to shift 😭😭 it is maddening thinking about how depressed and obsessed I was with it but whatever I’m up now.

Anyways I still never really got into the law because it was boring and his lectures made me fall asleep at the time. I was like 17 and didn’t really care how or why shifting worked, I just wanted to escape tbh. Anyways I decided to actually take the law seriously but then the creator who introduced me to the law left Reddit and shifting media because she believed she was mentally ill, and shifting was fake and she had to get therapy.

I remember I hated Neville and the law of assumption after that so I dropped it, which is super funny to me because why was I blaming a dead man for this situation. I avoided it with my life and anytime someone recommended it to me I got unhealthily mad and told them to shut up probably idk. I was 17 and depressed and in a really bad place and that situation just made me spiral beyond anything and ruined my mental health.

Anyways I focused on manifesting better mental health and a better life after that,and shifted my attention to just intention which is literally the everything inside an assumption. I ended up shifting obviously and then I dove into the law out of curiosity because after I did it I just wanted to know.. I guess the logistics behind it because it was a cool phenomenon to me.

But this wasn’t until 6 months after I shifted and now.. well I obviously love the law and understand it and have a blog dedicated to it so I obviously use and recommend it!

What I will say is everything we learn with the law, 3D and 4D, dwelling in imaginations, states, affirm and persist, the ego, I am state, persistence, you know all that good jazz that I even talk about, is simply because we wanna learn and understand it properly. If you don’t want to use the law or whatever that’s fine but understanding assumption creates reality is the bases of everything.

Just understand that and it’s literally the same thing without all the other stuff lol. I guess that’s why I love intention! it’s the premise of everything we do. Intending, wanting, desiring, whatever and then assuming it to be true is so simple and it works. At least that’s how I shifted anyways. Regardless you use the law even if you’re not aware of it, and there are people entering the void, manifesting, and shifting without knowing the law so why would that be different for you?

So if you wanna use the void (which is literally within you, so hating it means hating your pure state of consciousness which is weird)why would the discussion about it even matter unless you assume it does anyways. Idk my perception around it is completely different since I have met a lot of people with experiences with the void (like my church friend who died) but not the way the tumblr girlies use it. It’s valid regardless!

Literally just assume whatever benefits you and resonates with you will work and it will work, point blank periodt.

[bopinion]

2023 / 06

Aperçu of the Week:

"We wanted the best, but it came as usual."

(Viktor Chernomyrdin, former Russian prime minister, in 1993)

Bad News of the Week:

The image of the "People's Democratic Republic" of North Korea is often described as Stone Age communism. While the majority of the population suffers from extreme poverty and, in some cases, famine, Kim Yong Un stages himself as a monarch and operates a strange cult of nuclear weapons and long-range missiles, which he sees as life insurance for his own despotic regime. All of this is done under the eyes of China, a protective power that is difficult to understand, and in distinction from the economically successful brother nation of South Korea.

For a long time, North Korea existed like a country on another planet. Hardly any information penetrated to the outside or the inside, the communicative isolation seemed perfect, the media control total. This still works internally, but in recent months it is the World Wide Web, of all places, on whose map the country is no longer a blank spot. On the one hand, North Korea operates extremely successful hacker cohorts who, in addition to various espionage and disinformation campaigns, also managed to collect at least $1.2 billion in cryptocurrency through online fraud and data extortion. In other words, a concretely lucrative business that flushes foreign currency into the state coffers.

What is unclear, however, is the objective of what is currently the second notable North Korean Internet phenomenon: an apparently broad-based social media offensive. In a series of channels, which according to CNN are new and have been astonishingly successful in a short time, the country is staging itself as a pleasant home for seemingly normal teenagers. Who speak perfect English with a British accent. Who, for example, enjoy popsicles and love to read Harry Potter. Only the former is hardly available and the latter is even officially banned. Why is this done? Good question.

The videos "look like a well-prepared play" scripted by the North Korean government, said Park Seong-cheol, a researcher at the Database Centre for North Korean Human Rights. The scenes shown from the alleged everyday life of youngsters are not completely fake, but staged. For example, there is a water park, a movie theater and an amusement park in Pyongyang. Only these facilities are reserved for an elite class of party officials, military officers and government employees. Like the Internet access these strange influencers use - just like the smartphones that aren't actually available. What's the point when, according to the CIA fact book, only 26% of the population even has electricity? It would be nice if the North Korean tourist office, which wants to open the country's borders to international tourism, were behind this.

More likely, however, it is a red herring. With which the regime wants to influence the current narrative: North Korea is not an isolated country that could attack its neighbors and the United States with nuclear weapons. But rather an ordinary East Asian country where ordinary people like you and me live ordinary lives. Combined with the recent spate of missile launch tests, the latest expansion of the Nyŏngbyŏn nuclear facility documented with satellite imagery, and a new solid-fuel intercontinental ballistic missile (ICBM) unveiled just last Wednesday at the 75th anniversary of the founding of the armed forces, this leaves a queasy feeling.

Good News of the Week:

Probably the death toll of 28,000 from the earthquake in the Turkish-Syrian border region is out of date by the time I post this. The worst series of quakes since scientific records began has devastated an area where nearly 20 million people live. And as events unfold, a whole series of negative findings are coming to light.

The Turkish government is not implementing the regulations that actually apply to buildings in the latently earthquake-prone region. Neither Syria's ruler Bashar al-Assad nor the rebels in the north of the country are allowing solid disaster relief by foreign forces. Enemy nations cannot be stopped from attacking each other even in this situation. Even in the Near East, there are sub-zero temperatures at this time of year. And the Kurds remain constantly the biggest loosers of them all anyway.

Fortunately, many humanitarian highlights are also showing up in the face of adversity. For example, even Sweden, reviled by Erdogan, is sending aid workers to eastern Anatolia. So is the beleaguered Ukraine, which surely would have been admitted a different set of priorities. And those that don't have appropriately equipped aid workers, like the United Arab Emirates, are opening their wallets. And every day there are - still! - improbable miracles, such as the rescue of a heavily pregnant woman who was rescued yesterday after 115 hours under rubble.

What somehow makes one optimistic despite the terrible circumstances is humanity. When people stand by each other in times of need, even though the religion they believe in actually dictates enmity. When official requirements are suspended in order to allow family members who have become homeless to travel to their relatives in Germany, for example. Or when the international community thinks not only about the current rescue, but also about reconstruction afterwards - the EU has already announced a donor conference for those affected.

Even the self-proclaimed crown of creation, which likes to define itself in terms of greed, resentment, jealousy or hatred, is capable of empathy. It's nice that the term "humanity" still has a positive connotation. Even though we so often seem to go out of our way to change that. The heart is probably more than just a blood-pumping muscle after all. And conscience more than a transmission in the synapses of the brain.

Personal happy moment of the week:

I broke a bottle of red wine while shopping the other day. And moistened various purchases in the carrier bag. I noticed most of it and was able to clean and dry it. That the red wine also flowed into a box of cigarillos, I did not even notice. Not until I wanted to smoke one and had a damp, soft stem in my hand. So I put the box open on the heater in the office. And discovered two pleasant side effects of my mishap: the smell of red wine and tobacco at work has an comfortable calming effect. And the taste of the cigarillos gets a pleasant additional flavor. From that perspective, I was able to profitably recycle some of the spilled red wine.

I couldn't care less...

...whether the former head of the Office for the Protection of the Constitution, Hans-Georg Maaßen, who is increasingly conspicuous for his racist and conspiracy-theory tones, can be officially expelled from the conservative CDU. Or whether the high good of freedom of speech also protects him within the party from accountability for his unspeakable statements. The fact that an obviously extreme right-winger could rise as a political official to become the head of the most important authority for upholding the state of lawfulness, of all things, weighs considerably more heavily and calls for more consequences than which membership card he carries around with him.

As I write this...

...I'm drinking a beer not even five hours after I got up today. A tough week in many ways takes its toll. And I tackle the challenge of relaxing Bavarian style.

Post Scriptum

In the German capital Berlin, the House of Representatives will be newly elected today - as a repeat election. This is because the regional election that took place in the fall of 2021 parallel to the federal election was declared invalid by the Administrative Court due to numerous mishaps - from ballots running hout to polling stations closing too late. Realpolitically less relevant, since no result of the election would change e.g. the majority conditions in the Bundesrat, is a look on Berlin nevertheless interesting. On the one hand, out of sarcasm, since this debacle also fits perfectly with the prejudice that simply nothing works in this city. On the other hand, out of curiosity, since in the end every conceivable party constellation is indeed possible. The extent of my tendency toward the former will depend on the first projection in less than an hour on the latter.

[yarnreader]

Episode 20: "Rambling" (10/16/15)

https://youtu.be/46ZffoMbkxA

Here's this week's episode for you to enjoy! BooksUnbroken: A World War II Story of Survival, Resilience, and Redemption by Laura Hillenbrand Picture from Goodreads.com (Summery is from Goodsread.com)On a May afternoon in 1943, an Army Air Forces bomber crashed into the Pacific Ocean and disappeared, leaving only a spray of debris and a slick of oil, gasoline, and blood. Then. on the ocean surface, a face appeared. It was that of a young lieutenant, the plane's bombardier, who was struggling to a life raft and pulling himself aboard. SO began one of the most extraordinary odysseys of the Second World War.The lieutenant's name was Louis Zamperini. In boyhood, he'd been a cunning and incorrigible delinquent, breaking into houses, brawling, and fleeing his home to ride the rails. As a teenager, he had channeled his defiance into running, discovering a prodigious talent that had carried him to the Berlin Olympics and within sight of the four-minute mile. But when war had come, the athlete had become an airman, embarking on a journey that led to his doomed flight, a tiny raft, and a drift into the unknown.Ahead of Zamperini lay thousands of miles of open ocean, leaping sharks, a foundering raft, thirst and starvation, enemy aircraft, and, beyond, a trial even greater. Driven to the limits of endurance, Zamperini would answer desperation with ingenuity; suffering with hope, resolve, and humor; brutality with rebellion. His fate, whether triumph or tragedy, would be suspended on the fraying wire of his will.In her long-awaited new book, Laura Hillenbrand writes with the same rich and vivid narrative voice she displayed in Seabiscuit. telling an unforgettable story of a man's journey into extremity, Unbroken is a testament to the resilience of the human mind, body, and spirit. Love Is Hell by Melissa Marr, Scott Westerfeld, Justine Larbalestier, Gabrielle Zevin, and Laurie Faria Stolarz Picture from Goodreads.com In these supernatural stories by five of today's hottest writers - Melissa Marr (Wicked Lovely), Scott Westerfeld (Specials), Justine Larbalestier (Magic or Madness), Gabrille Zevin (Elsewhere), and Laurie Faria Stolarz (Blue is for Nightmares)- love may be twisted and turned around, but it's more potent than ever on its quest to conquer all.From two students who let the power of attraction guide them to break the hard-and-fast rules of their world to the girl who falls hard for a good-looking ghost with a score to settle, the clever, quirky characters in this exciting collection will break your heart, then leave you believing in love more than ever. Harry, A History: The True Story of a Boy Wizard, His Fans, and Life Inside the Harry Potter Phenomenon by Melissa Anelli Picture from Goodreads.com THE HARRY POTTER BOOKS WERE JUST THE BEGINNING OF THE STORY...During the brief span of just one decade, hundreds of millions of perfectly ordinary people made history: they became the only ones who would remember what it was like when the Harry Potter saga was still unfinished. What it was like to seek out friends, families, online forums, fan fiction, and podcasts to get a fix between novels. When the potential death of a character was a hotter bet than the World Series. When the unfolding story of a boy wizard changed the way books are read for all time.And a webmistress of the Leaky Cauldron, one of the most popular Harry Potter sites on the Internet, Melissa Anelli had a front row sear to it all. Whether it was helping Scholastic stop leaks and track down counterfeiters, hosting live PotterCasts at bookstores across the country, touring with the wizard rock bands Harry and the Potters, or traveling to Edinburgh to interview J.K. Rowling personally, Melissa was at the center of the Harry Potter tornado, and nothing about her life would ever be the same.The Harry Potter books are a triumph of the imagination that did far more than break sales records for all time. They restored the world's sense of wonder and took on a magical life of their own. Now the series has ended, but the story is not over. With remembrances from J.K. Rowling's editors, agents, publicists, fans and Rowling herself, Melissa Anelli takes us on a personal journey through every aspect of the Harry Potter phenomenon--from his very first spell to his lasting impact on the way we live the dream. Mississippi Jack by L.A. Meyer The Outsiders by S. E. Hinton FOs:The Easy Ombre Slouch Hat Maize Mandrake block. WIPs:Flax Light-weight Patchwork blanket Harry Potter blanket Happy Knitting! Sam<3

[anthonybialy]

Sick Experiments

Believing in science is the most unscientific idea imaginable.  Irony is confirmed by research.  A declaration of faith regarding the embodiment of skepticism shows true understanding.  Giggling while donning lab coats backward distracts from trying to figure out how to don goggles.  They just rest on your ears?

Adults struggle to be productive while keeping delinquents away from Bunsen burners.  Those who fail to grasp the subject shouldn’t even be allowed to handle safety scissors.  Confiscating autonomy is for their own safety and everyone else’s, too.  Caring about others means not letting the biggest fakers make decisions.

This method sure doesn’t seem scientific.  Those who insist on defying human nature, economics, and reality have their answers already determined, which doesn’t seem like it would please the average chemist.  A not particularly clever method for circumventing what happens next hasn’t exactly produced results.

Presume anyone who disagrees is awful as part of a commitment to kind open-mindedness.  Branding those with legitimate questions deniers is especially galling when conclusions make liberalism the equivalent of believing the Earth is shaped like a plate.  

Flailing about every temperature change makes it tough to enjoy nice seasons.  Histrionic liberals should be familiar with weather, which is a fairly common phenomenon.  In fact, it happens constantly, according to our present understanding.  That’s at least outside.  As for those who wish to reside in the past for more than its alleged relative coolness, freaking out at the thermometer does not appease climate gods.  There’s been an alarming spike in risible announcements about any high summer temperature or fire in a forest you may be aware is full of wood.

Changing to climate change didn’t trick the Earth into thinking it’s doomed.  Literally any variation prompts hollering about this apparently fragile planet’s imminent doom.  Our efforts to cool off cruelly make it hotter.  I miss when it was 60 degrees and mostly sunny every single day before the invention of air conditioning.

Gaia cultists are as good at science as they are at rhetorical trickery.  Fanatics are surely conforming to facts when they must change terms like a public relations campaign.  Global warming didn’t quite pan out, which means a rise in human-caused language melting.  We certainly aren’t going to return to fretting about global cooling like primitive dolts fretted about at the First Earth Day.  Those benighted troglodytes weren’t geniuses like today’s enlightened academics who think updating terms because their last one didn’t pan out reflects a new understanding of events.

Abortion is about controlling women as long as you ignore sonograms.  Oh: a baby can grow inside.  Noticing how life starts is portrayed as reverting to prehistoric times by those whose self-righteousness is surely logical.  People can’t afford baby food that is unavailable, anyway.

A lifetime spent denying results affects life outside of laboratories.  More gun control causes more crime as only the law-abiding obey, economies sputter when politicians attempt to compensate for their previous incursions, and unlimited complimentary health care is super unless you actually want to use some.  The case is clear in the real world.

A stubborn refusal to deviate from their precious ideology means never learning why everyone is hurting.  The unfailingly stubborn think they have evidence on their side when events contradict them right out front.

Economic science demonstrates the effect of removing motivation and rewards on humans.  Recession will remain the conclusion for several quarters.  

Deciding that a fearful knee jerk would protect us from passing along the plague is still contagious.  The magic cloak fails to perform Harry Potter-style no matter what spell clumsy politicians try.  Force people to breathe through cotton in case anxiety wasn’t severe enough without proper respiration.  Punishing us like children by making us go to our rooms failed to stop a virus.

Merely citing evidence is hateful in this wholly rational world of ours.  Not wearing a mask epitomizes selfishness unless hiding mouths did nothing more than signal virtue.  Confiscators of rights got every infiltration they desired for two years.  The outcomes made everyone sick.  People who managed not to panic are ticked after noticing what those who freaked inflicted on top of global illness.

The worst aftermath of the rampaging disease was making humanity irrationally scared.  Justifying endless infiltrations by claiming they’re for safety is a reason as lame as it is eternal.  Let’s take rights just to make sure, demand casual tyrants.  The only surety was infringing upon basic liberty without legal niceties or practical benefits.

Bothering others is their religion.  It’s tough for liberals to claim they want to separate church and state when the state is their church.  Even worse, adherents get all the doctrine wrong.  Worshiping Washington isn’t bad enough: adulating Joe Biden to form a trinity is the darkest mythology.

Distorting faith in a way that would make Pat Robertson cringe is a nice unintentional touch  The most zealous are the least likely to consider facts.  Fervency taints the experiment, as seen by how badly the American test subject has reacted to Biden’s demented notions.

Science is a process.  That fundamental opener shouldn’t need to be announced.  But its alleged defenders need remedial lessons.  The ironically ignorant know even less about it than algebra.  Rigorous testing is just another basic element they ignore.

Respecting the best present knowledge is anathema to heretics who misinterpret every prophecy.  Watch who claims to represent scientific values as they demonize increasing crop yields that prevent starvation as Frankenfoods.  Living in fields to reduce carbon footprints wouldn’t help, but it’s not like hypocrites would live up to their shrieking.

[sitp-recs]

Take the Moon by @tackytigerfic

Harry/Draco (2022, Mature, 15k)

Harry Potter has always wanted a family of his own, and when a deadly blood curse forces him into a marriage bond with his best friend Draco Malfoy, it looks like he might just have found one. It's just a shame they’d always planned to break up after a year…

Harry had always thought that love would be stable, that love was a thing that people went through together. Nothing had prepared him for this loneliness, or the helpless sick certainly that Harry was going to love both Scorpius and Draco forever, no matter what, and there was no getting out of it, no matter how removed they were, or how quickly and efficiently Draco had whisked them out of Harry’s life as soon as the year was up.

Sadly, reading this fic for the 3rd time last night did absolutely nothing to help me write this rec which I saved for last because I’m nothing if a top notch procrastinator. But once again I was left speechless and hungover with feels, body soft as pudding, mind fuzzy and unable to put my thoughts into words. I’m still not sure how I was able to leave a comment and at first it did feel too superficial and inadequate, but Tacky seemed to get it so I try not to stress too much about it (another important thing our friendship has taught me!).

This fic reunites a bunch of tags I rarely engage with - mainly forced marriage and kid fic - and softens the blow by adding wolf Harry + break up make up, two personal faves. I already knew how personal these themes were for Tacky and I wasn’t expecting to get involved on a personal level, more like an objective tender heartbreak? And to be honest everything was fine as Draco asked You’ll marry me? sending Harry through a “sort of slow creeping warmth, something peaceful and blanketing”. Everything was less than fine when Harry had his eyes alight as he mouthed Husband in a constant loop during the marriage bond ceremony, and by the time they were fucking on the kitchen’s yellow rug I was close to screaming crying throwing up. I remember reading the bond consummation scene very slowly, almost in a trance with a hand on my heart and trying to commit every word to memory. At some point my husband asked me what was going on “your face looks kinda funny, you’re smiling but it’s as if you’re about to have a breakdown”. I checked and saw that I had just read the unforgettable I’m not done, I’ll never be done with you and right then I promptly started crying. For the first time.

It’s a really interesting phenomenon to read something so distant from your reality and still feel so deeply moved by it it’s like suddenly that whole life belongs to you. Tacky is a master at making you feel not only completely immersed but emotionally invested, getting so close to the characters it’s as if we’re standing right inside their hearts - and let me tell you, this fic has A LOT of heart. It jumps straight from a hot and breathtaking bond consummation to the wreckage of a post-marriage empty house and lonely heart. Between Harry’s melancholy and pining for Draco, his tormented desire for a family of his own and his absolute devotion to Scorpius, my rib cage was torn open with the ugliest aching. As per, Tacky’s nuanced brand of angst is unbearably sweet and wistful, so full of tenderness and care that we have no choice but to embrace the hurt. There’s no doubt that Harry and Draco care deeply for each other, in a way that even transcends a lovers relationship. They’ve been friends for ages and know each other like the palm of their hands. I love how they communicate in this fic (except for the big elephant in the room 😂) and more importantly, they’d both move heaven and earth for little Scorpius. Raising Scorpius together is a major and vital component of their love story and it’s beautifully moving to see their unconditional love for him bringing them together time and again, overriding all complications the romantic side of their relationship have suffered.

Speaking of Scorpius, his arc as an autistic kid is superb and one of the main reasons why this fic hits so strongly on the solar plexus. Tacky explores the theme in a very compassionate and realistic manner, showing how challenging and heartbreaking it is for kids and parents to navigate a system that wasn’t designed (and us not willing) to accommodate those who are different. The nursery scene is visceral in this sense, and I loved seeing how Harry and Draco come together for Scorpius but diverge in their approach - Harry feisty and furious, a force of nature moved by confidence and the inherent social power he has, balanced by this quietly restrained Draco, looking “expensive and untouchable”, no less feisty but extra careful not to say the wrong word and jeopardize everything they’ve been fighting for. Beyond its realism, the scene is only this powerful because it builds on masterful characterization, tension building and dialogue.

The intensity of Harry’s longing is devastating in a way that only a bone-deep certainty that you’ll never get over someone can provoke. A very much appreciated bonus, the werewolf aspect is mentioned casually enough to make us swoon in delight. Wolf Harry is not at all the focus of this story, but it makes for incredibly spicy smut. The urgent and slightly possessive want, the subtle scenting kink!!!! As the official patron saint of wank banks I can attest this fic is sexier than a lot of E-rated content out there and many moments made me gasp out loud at how beautifully written they are. I really love the hot combo of something primal and something tender interlacing every time they fall into bed together, lovely and complicated and so very compelling. Lastly I can’t forget to mention our beloved side characters and how organically they’re introduced here, really shining in their scenes. Caring and perceptive Ron + Hermione, brilliant Astoria, and this charming and ruthless Teddy who once again stole my heart during his scene with Harry. Their witty and vibrant personalities jump off the screen and easily work their way inside our hearts.

This was such a refreshing take on the bond trope, exploring its initial euphoria and going straight into the painful aftermath. As I finished reading there was a strange little lump in my throat leaving me raw with emotion, partly satisfied with the perfect emotional resolution, partly desolate that this meant saying goodbye to these characters when I’d gladly stick around to see the life they build together. This fic was impeccably executed, it felt way longer than 15k and at the same time not long enough. It has so much heart and empathy you can tell it comes from a very special and personal place, one that was able to shake me to the core and fall in love with how selfless these two men love.

Here’s my last single rec for Wireless, and I just found out that today is fic writers’ appreciation day which is very fitting for finishing this short series! I hope you all have enjoyed these fics as much as I did. Happy Sunday!

Read on AO3

[thelesbiancitizen]

I am extremely put off by adults who only watch movies & read books that are made for children. not because I think it’s creepy (ok sometimes it’s creepy), but because it’s a massive red flag -- children’s media is designated as such because it is trying to tell stories in a simplistic way so that developing brains can understand it. it’s not that I think it’s wrong for adults to enjoy that kind of content. but there are adults -- and a lot of overlapping in begendered communities -- who obsessively engage with content made for children. I think it shows a lack of willingness or ability to engage in deeper critical thought, to confront problems which are not black and white. 

like this is a new thing, right? I swear it’s an internet age phenomenon. grown adults obsessed with My Little Pony, with anime, with Marvel, with Steven Universe, with Harry Potter, with cartoons and Disney and Pokemon. it’s not bad to like those things. but there are communities of “grown ups” who are desperately trying not to grow up. They do not want to engage in real-life issues. They do not want to confront reality. They want to live in these fantasy worlds where they are told what to think and how to act and how to feel. I think it’s really, really bizarre. There are young adults who won’t watch black and white movies, won’t watch documentaries, won’t read non-fiction because it makes them “uncomfortable” and they want to live in a world of fantastical pleasure and immediate gratification. I think it is all directly tied to the development of the new trans movement -- deeply individualistic, desperate to not grow up and to absolve themselves of responsibility to themselves and their fellow humans, narcissistic, completely detached from reality. ready-made, mass-produced “identities” to buy off the shelf. 

I think it’s very sinister. so much of content made for children these days is not even thinly veiled American imperialist propaganda. the only good TV shows for kids were the ones made for public networks. now it’s all privatized and there’s more of it than ever and gets shinier and shinier on the outside but it’s rotting and dead and hollow on the inside. there is zero good TV or movies made for girls these days, like absolutely nothing I would ever want my daughters (if I had daughters) to be watching and internalizing. this rant took a turn but seriously. the state of mass media these days is just ultra depressing. just burn it all down. we are truly living in a dystopia

[hpdabbles]

What’s in a Name?

For @ironicallypresant​ who request “some kind of fae au for the wizarding world I’ve read a few things where lily is fae but never James.”  I hope you like it!

Harry Potter settled down in the Hogwarts Express with a sigh and throwing a quick thank you to the two redheads that help him onboard. He couldn’t tell which one was Forge or Gred (what odd names), but they offer him a smile and a happy little wave. “Anything for a being of mischief!”

Harry didn’t know what that meant, but assuming it was just a wizard thing, he left it well alone. He still couldn’t quite believe he was a wizard, after all this time, all these strange unexplainable phenomenons, the sense of being misplaced in the perfectly normal family and normal neighborhood. 

It was because he is magic. Because his parents had been magic. 

Even if a month had gone by, Harry still had moments where he expected to wake up back in the cupboard and learn this had all been a cruel dream. 

“Excuse me? Can I sit here? Everywhere else is full.” 

Startled out of his thoughts Harry swings his eyes to the door where a redhead boy peaks at him expectantly. Harry never has anyone want to sit with him before, and he finds he doesn’t know how to say the words so he settles for nodding his head and waving a hand to the opposite side of him.

“Thanks,” The boy says dragging in a trunk behind him. Harry can’t help but notice how old and run down it is....maybe the boy would like to trade something to get a better trunk....Harry could offer a deal to-

Don’t try to drag people into your hustles boy! Uncle Vernon's voice sneers in his mind, making the dark hair boy jump. Ashamed he turns his gaze away from the trunk feeling his inside turn painfully for a few seconds. He clenches his fists in his lap trying to breathe through the ache in his chest until the sharpness fades away.

All of this happens in seconds and by the time the red hair child is settled in sit the Harry doesn’t show any sign of discomfort. For as long as Harry been able to remember those random pains come and go, never lasting for longer than five seconds but consist enough for teachers to point it out to his guardians. They took him to a doctor who couldn’t find anything wrong with Harry and it quickly became another “lie” Harry was famous for telling. 

It’s gotten to the point he no longer saw reason to tell people about them, after all, no one would listen anyway. He took his hand off his chest, settling it in his lap happy the pain had turned to soreness instead. 

He doesn’t think the stranger would have appreciated Harry pointing out the terrible state of his trunk. Heavens knows the shame that overcomes him whenever someone sneered at his clothes, always too big and dirty, compared to his properly dressed family members.

 He offers the boy a shy smile, trying to find something to say. “What’s your name?”

The redhead boy raises a brow, dragging his gaze pointedly to Harry’s hair before shrugging  “Whatever you like to call me.”

Harry didn’t know how to respond to that. “What?”

“Whatever you want to call me. I’ll answer to it” The boy says casually, then seems to rethink that as he hasty adds on “As long as it’s not mocking. I get that too much from Fre- ugh my twin brothers.”

“a nickname?” Harry asks feeling both off footed and a bit ecstatic. No one ever asked Harry to give them a nickname before it was almost like the boy wanted to be close to him like real friends were. 

“Nick sounds fine,” The newly dub Nick says shrugging his small shoulders. “ I appreciate the last name even if it’s just the word Name.”

Harry blinks bewildered green eyes at him, pulling at his long sleeves over his hands. A nervous habit he developed over the years. “You want me to call you Nick Name?”

“Sure mate.”

“Why?” Was he mocking Harry? 

The boy snorts,  “Mate, your hair gave you away. No offense but my Mum didn’t raise a fool. I’m not about to give away my name so easily.”

“My...hair?” Reaching up to try and smooth his wild hair Harry wonders if it fell to the side to reveal his scar. Was this about him being famous? 

“Yeah” Nick nods as if that means anything, like they somehow got on the same page now, giving Harry a smile that seems too friendly for someone making fun of him. “Not that I mind, it’s in your nature after all, but you should wait till your older to make Deals. Bit funnier that way yeah?”

The way he says that, where he can hear the capital D, makes something in Harry ding, as if though he rung a bell in his head. Harry doesn't know why but it makes him smile. 

Nick returns the grin. “Your hair is standing up.”

“What!?” Harry reaches up to slap the locks down that is for some reason, risen in the air. Not like a cowlick but closer to when he is underwater, floating about gently. He blushes, ashamed of his freak curls, and hoping Nick wouldn’t be disgusted by him. 

“It’s wicked that it does that,” Nick says, his blue eyes flickering upwards to his straight red hair. “Mine just flops uselessly like a dead mop on my head. I wish I was as cute as you.”

Harry has never been as red as he was at that moment.  “C-cute?”

No one ever thought Harry was cute before. Heck, no one thought he was anything other than a smear on society. 

“Oh!” The boy slaps his forehead as if he caught himself saying something foolish. Sheepishly he offers Harry a shrug. “I tend to put my foot in my mouth. I know I shouldn’t call your kind cute. I didn’t mean to stereotype you mate, sorry about that. Say what should I call you? Mate just sounds weird to say over and over again.”

Harry feels like the communication between them was failing. Nick was obviously speaking English but somehow it was an entirely different language. “I’m Har-”

The door opens again, this time to show a blond boy in elegant robes around their age. He gave the room a quick once over, passing Nick without a second glance. The moment his eyes land on Harry however, he does a double-take, staring at his hair with a fierce intensity. 

Then he smiles pearl white teeth. “I heard the Boy-Who-Lived was in this compartment. Is that you?”

“Oh him, I mean yeah that's me. I’m the Boy-Who-Lived.” Harry answers awkwardly still not used to his famous title. Across from him Nick looks startled. 

“Are you really?” 

Harry reaches up to lift his bangs flashing the strange scar he had for as long as he could remember. Nick's eyes widen before he breaths “That’s wicked.”

“Thanks?” He doesn't know how he should respond to the obvious awe in Nick’s face now. The blond boy clears his throat stepping forward with a hand raised.

“It’s nice to meet you.”  

Harry blinks then shakes it as well. Two people that want to talk to him. Harry is on a roll today! As he shook the hand he can’t help but notice the way the blond boy’s eyes seem to be fixed on his lips, and he wonders if he wanted a kiss. Maybe Harry could trade him something for a quick peck-

No. Harry tells himself  No hustles. No freakiness. Stop it.  Besides how weird would it be to trade something for a kiss? He wants to makes friends not scare everyone away. 

A sharp pain wrecks havoc across his torso, making him wince slightly. He fights the urge to press his palm against the pain.  

“It’s nice to meet you too-ugh sorry I didn’t get your name?” Harry says feeling nervous, his voice wavering towards the end. Had the other said it and he missed it due to the stinging ache?

The blond looks unimpressed for a moment then he snorts.  “Nice try. You can call me whatever you please”

“How about Ferret?” Nice offers with a grin obviously trying for good humor teasing. “You got the features.”

“Think that’s funny do you?” The blond snaps face clouded with displeasure. Obviously, the other took it as an insult instead.  “I don’t need to focus on your features. Just point out the red hair, hand me downs and-

Harry quickly intervenes not wanting his new possible friends to fight. Besides this is the second nickname of his life, it was special, Harry had only been on the train for a short while and already he was connecting better to the people here then all of the eleven years combine back in Privet Drive.

“How about Pearl?” He offers which brings the blond up short. He hastes to explain his reasoning feeling foolish for over-explain but unable to stop.  “Since you look really....fancy...and you have.. near oval white hair?”

He winces at the expression of consideration that overcomes the blond’s face feeling like he just messed this all up. Until the blond smiles, satisfied. “Pearl is a good name. I shall call you Emerald. You have lovely green eyes, it seems fitting”

Harry bit his lip, ducking his head to hide the sudden overwhelming happiness he got from that comment. He’s always been rather weak to them, despite how rarely he’s ever received them. 

Nick chuckles “Emerald, your hair is floating again. Must be because your feeling light after that compliment. Heh heh heh, get it?”

Harry would die for him. He doesn’t know why but that usage of puns makes him want to die for him. If anyone ever threatens him, Harry would tear them apart before they could finish their sentence. In fact, Harry was taking him home, Nick was his now, of course only if Nick wanted to come with him but his house was his now and-

“You Fae are so easy,” Pearl says rolling his eyes. “It wasn’t even a clever pun.”

Harry stops the sudden possessive thoughts to stare at him confusingly. “I’m sorry?”

“I know you like flattery-”

“You think I’m a fairy?” Harry interrupts utterly bewildered. “Why?”

For some reason, Pearl looks alarmed. “No! No! I meant no offense. I would never compare you to a fairy. I wasn’t trying to be disrespectful. Please,  accept my humble and honest apologies.” 

“But you just said I was a fairy.”

“No, he said Fae.” Nick hastily adds. “I swear he did.”

“...What’s a Fae?”

The two stare at him, then Nick forces a laugh. “Good one Emblard. Real funny.”

A fuzzy buzz sound goes off somewhere behind Harry’s eyes. He’s lying, but he can’t bring himself to point it out. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia don’t like it when Harry points out lies. It’s weird but he’ always been able to tell when someone lies to him. 

 “Thanks.” He says instead. Both boys relax. “Do either of you know anything about Hogwarts?” 

The rest of the ride was spent getting Harry up to speed on all these Hogwarts until a girl arrived looking for a toad. Before anyone can open their mouths she moves right on to introductions ignoring the fact they couldn’t respond to her inquiry of the lost toad.  “I’m Hermione Granger and this is Nevi-”

“Don’t tell him my name!” The chubby boy yelps  “Are you mad?”

Harry stares at the girl, her name wrapping around him the same way all names do. 

“Nice to meet you, Hermione” Her name rolls off his tongue like caramel. He likes the taste of it, but he fights the mad smirk that always surfaces his face when meeting new people. His aunt Petunia hates it, and usually it earns him a wack of a pan to the head. 

Sadly, like now, he can’t fight it completely and it breaks across his face slowly, sharply, and overly eager.  The three other males wince. “I’m Harry Potter.”

The girl goes white. “You’re a Fae.”

“I’m....I’m sorry I’m a what?” Harry asks smirk falling right off his face.  

“A F-Fae. I read about you...in the books” Hermione gulps looking close to shaking. “I didn’t know...I know it said the hair was a sign but I just thought you don’t use a comb or-”

“Granger stop while your ahead!” Nick shouts alarm. “Don’t insult him!”

“Wait wait,” Harry says raising his hands as the girl looks about close to bursting into tears and the other two- Pearl and Chubby boy- seem about to make a run for the door. “What on earth you all going on about?”

“You...didn't know?” Hermonie sounds shocked. Then her eyes widen “Is this a trick? Surely you are aware that you’re a Fae Harry.”

“I’m a what?”

“A Fae. Like all Potters before you.”

“My Dad was a Fae?” Harry leans closer to her hungry for anything of his parents. 

Suddenly Hermonie sat up straight,  “I’ll trade you everything I know about the Potter family that I read exchange for my real name. We can change it to a nickname....If...if you want?”

Harry is extremely embarrassed by the purr like noise that started somewhere in his throat. He just knows his hair is floating again, and he can feel his cheeks gaining a healthy flush. “Oh! Yes please, I’ll give you the best nickname ever promise!”

Hermonie mouth drops, her own face turning bright red. For a moment she seems to have stop functioning, unable to look away from Harry who is still making that odd purring noise. The other members are as equally flustered.

 “Is this the Veela Allure I read about?” Hermonie whimpers after a moment.

“No, this is a Fae Deal.” Chubby boy stutters out, hiding his eyes behind his hands. Though he is taking small peaks at Harry form between his fingers only to close them. A few seconds later he spreads his fingers again. “It’s one of the reasons they get so many Deals. People like...um...looking.”

“Hermonie! Hermonie! Hermione!” Harry calls leaning towards the girl, his voice having an odd little ring to it now “Please tell me! I’ll give you a nickname if you want but please, what is this about the Potters?”

“Give me my nickname first,” The girl says after swallowing twice. 

Harry tilts his head thinking quickly “How about Bella? It means beauty in French.”

“Bella is fine” The poor girl squeaks sounding like she is close to choking. “Bella is nice. Thank you.”

Harry's lips pull into that mad smirk once more, unknown to him making his face turn a bit....foreboding  “You owe me my information.”

She goes pale once more. “Y-yes of course.” 

It’s a very educational conversation. 

[dracosearlgreytea]

indelicate marks (5)

indelicate marks: chapter five - the first lesson

A/N: here is chapter five! if you have had enough patience to get to here i am very proud and i thank you for putting up with so many arguments haha but dont worry very soon we shall be getting to the juicy stuff! its only the beginning! lots of love - ivy 

warnings: language, pretty awful bullying, implications of suicidal thoughts, draco being mean, everyone is mean, but especially draco (im sorry)

lovely tags: @h-annahayy @okaydraco @fanficflaneuse

indelicate marks index 

Undeniably, you were utterly and completely terrified of Occlumency. The entire act of it threw you back into the Easter holidays of your previous year at Hogwarts. Hours and hours of having your parents force their way into your mind, digging through every memory and every thought. Every time it left you sobbing, shaking, begging for them to stop, often having to run to the bathroom and turn out your stomach. They were two strangers, really. You'd been a year old when they'd been sentenced to life in Azkaban. Two strangers, rummaging around in your head. You were equally terrified of having to let Draco rummage through it, too. After having counted down every day till your decided meeting, there was a slight tremor in your hand to compliment the nausea sitting in your stomach as you climbed the shifting stairs. You were grateful that everyone was in the Great Hall and wouldn't be able to see the direction you headed. Not that anyone would take notice. Not unless they'd found some new threats to hurtle at you, anyway. Although you tried very hard not to, you seemed to have taken up a new habit of paying attention to Draco and his ever worsening appearance over the past few weeks. It was as though he got more and more exhausted every day, and whilst you could feel a very similar phenomenon within yourself, the fact that Draco Malfoy was so concerned about... Whatever it was he was dealing with, was making you - as much as you loathed to admit it - worry. Not just for whatever chaos would surely ensue from it. Of course, it was bound to be related to the mark on his arm, which only made you worry more. What the hell had happened to him over the summer? Worrying about Draco and whatever his involvement with the Dark Lord was only seemed to make your own anxieties multiply. It was a spiral, a steep and downward spiral, that left you with that constant sick feeling. It was as though you were falling, slowly and quickly all at the same time. You had a million questions for him that you would never allow yourself to ask, and he would most certainly not ever answer, but they echoed in your mind into the night, keeping you tossing and turning in your bed. Did he take it willingly? No, surely not, or he wouldn't have been crying about it that time in the bathrooms. Would Draco have just let someone give him that mark? And who did? Does Voldemort have to give each Deatheater a mark individually? Oh, shit, what if I have to actually meet the Dark Lord? No, that doesn't make sense... On, and on. Hesitation overcame you as you finally arrived outside the classroom door and you had to take a deep breath to settle your nerves before you pushed it open. Dust shifted in the air as you entered, illuminated by the days last light, which flooded in through the broken, tinted windows. Desks still sat in rows, facing a chalkboard that would most likely never been used again, papers scattered and worn into the floor beneath your feet. "You're late." The drawl of an increasingly familiar voice still made you jump, and your eyes flicked to the edge of the room opposite you. You'd almost missed him, where he sat on the edge of a desk, partially hidden by the shadows. His wand hung from his fingers, and he flicked it up absentmindedly. "Colloportus." Behind you, the door clicked, locked. "Was that really necessary?" You muttered, edging away from the door, trying to ignore how the action made your heart rate increase. There was no escape. You were now locked in a room with Draco Malfoy - who, was about to delve into your most private thoughts - and was also a Deatheater.   He washed his grey gaze over you, eyes finally coming to meet yours piercingly, sending a small shiver down your spine. "Can't be too careful." He shrugged. Coming to stand a couple meters away from him, you inspected him, noting how pale he looked. More pale than usual. In fact, he looked as though he could have been sick.   "You look like you're about to fucking puke." Draco spoke again, monotone, snapping you back to the situation at hand as he withdrew. Looking you up and down, his lips dragged downward in a vague disgust. Feeling all too uneasy under his scrutiny, but passing off the feeling, you rolled your eyes. "Skip the niceties, by all means." Your mutter prompted him to smirk lightly, your gaze becoming all too focused on the way the corner of his lips then shifted upward. "I'm about to be inside your head. I wouldn't worry about niceties." Dread pooled in your gut at his blunt words, and you pulled your eyes away from him. Standing, he gave you another, rather condescending look. "You aren't about to puke, are you?" "No," You groaned, shooting him a glare. "Let's just - just get on with it." Draco only tightened his grip on his wand, adjusting his stance. "Clear your mind, and focus." Your chest was painfully tight, sending him a nod of acknowledgement. He seemed to take this as a prompt, as his wand came upward, and he spoke clearly. "Legilimens!" Panic flooded your being as his conscious plummeted into yours, thoughts loud and overbearing as you tried so hard to ignore them - but the feeling was overpowering, utterly overwhelming, and your parents voices were too loud in your ears again. Stop being so overemotional! Compartmentalise! It was too much.   The Forbidden Forest, third year. "Deatheaters like Dementors, don't they?" Laughs and shouts came from around you, their grips hard on your arms. They dragged you through the trees, your feet skimming over fallen branches, stopping you from struggling. You were shouting, protesting, but the grips were tightening more and more. There was a dip in the ground, and then you were falling, hitting the dirt with a thud and rolling over damp mud. "You'll be right at home with the Dementors. Mum and Dad ever talk about them?" Winded, you coughed, heaving as the cheers died down. Icy cold spread over your skin, the sound of deathly wheezing echoing in your ears. Footsteps, fell away and you ran your eyes over the lake - cloaked figures descending around you, predator to prey. You let out a choked sob, gripped with fear. Stumbling to your feet, you began to run, one of the vile creatures swooping in close. Your ears rang as it approached you, and the force of the kiss pushed you back to the ground. Terrified, you curled in on yourself, shivering and freezing. Just kill me, please, just kill me- Another dark blur, and then you were plunged into another setting before you could even attempt to take back an ounce of control. The Room of Requirement filled out around you, bursts of white light shooting across the room. Joy - it was such an unfamiliar feeling, but you welcomed it as your lips stretched into a grin. Hermione Granger shot you an equally wide smile as a bright, white otter swum around her, before jetting towards you, just missing you as your own patronus leaped up into the air. A laugh escaped your lips, echoing in your ears as you stared back at the creature, swiftly moving up, up, up, until - there was an awful shattering, the walls seeming to groan, lights flickering around you. The joy dissipated, and you were left with fear. Words scrawled across your hand, etched into your skin, burning. "Harry! Hey, Harry," You were in the hallway, now, after detention with Umbridge. The trio did not stop, Harry's head only turning briefly as you called. "I need to talk to you," You tried, rushing after them, and he finally stopped, only to spin and fix you with a stare. "It's over." He growled. "Stop making excuses. You told Malfoy, didn't you?" "No!" You begged. "How could you say it was me? You saw Cho-" "Don't bother talking to us again, Y/N." There was rage. A lot of rage, but it only simmered into a terrible self loathing, as you watched them walk away, burning inside. Smoldering. Before another memory could take the previous one's place, you threw yourself out of the memory violently. Stumbling away from him, you dropped to your knees, tears stinging your eyes. Bile burnt the back of your throat as gasping desperately for oxygen. That horrible feeling of rejection took a moment to fully fade, leaving you shivering and hiccuping as tears rolled down your cheeks. "Take your time." Draco sounded a lot closer than he was before, and you pushed yourself to sit upright. Dragging in long, deep breaths, your eyes shut as you wrapped your arms around your legs, curling in on yourself. Shockingly, he didn't have that usual taunt in his tone. When the dizziness finally passed, you dared to open your eyes, wiping your face and giving him a glimpse. Draco looked tense, features tight as he stared back at you. The look in his eye was intense - but other than that, you couldn't quite decipher what emotion it was reflecting. Before you could talk, he extended his hand, and you stared at it for a moment. The out of character act eased the knot of anxiety in your stomach, and you took it, allowing him to help pull you up off the floor, his eyes not leaving you once. Avoidant of that persistent gaze, you sighed. "What?" "What?" Draco raised an eyebrow. "If you've got something to say, then just bloody say it." You snapped, lips curling into a small frown. He continued to watch you, silent, for another second. "Why did you help Potter?" Draco asked, tone edged but not harsh. You blinked in surprise, lips forming a small frown. "What do you mean?" "You joined that group." He stated, as though his question had a very obvious answer. "Why? You get treated like shit by Mudbloods." Hesitating, you faltered, struggling to put words together as he continued to search your expression. "I - I guess I had something to prove," You began, carefully, narrowing your eyes at Draco. His eyes were piercing, brow furrowed with his arms crossed across his chest. "Why do you care, anyway?" "I don't." He spoke, quick, cold. "It just seems idiotic." A spark of anger flickered in your chest, and you tensed your jaw, head shifting to the side ever so slightly. "I don't need your input on my choices, Malfoy." You spoke low, warning, his eyes lighting up as his lips pulled into a small sneer of amusement at your tone. "No, I'm intrigued," Draco pushed, a cruel look flushing over his features. "Tell me why you'd want to fight for the side that took your family away from you." "Shut up." The anger was simmering, breathing shallow as you stared at him. "You really want to save the people that carved up your arm? Fed you to Dementors?" That smirk was vile as it crawled upon his lips, eyes set on you as you struggled to keep your emotions at bay, tears now stinging your eyes. "You don't know what the fuck you're talking about." "Because as much as you try to, you're not going to get away from it." The grey in his eyes was cold, the smile falling, leaving him with a dead look that chilled you to the bone. "You're always going to be the daughter of two murderers." Ripping your wand out of your pocket, you flung a wordless spell towards him - he managed to react quickly, throwing himself out the way. The spell, instead, hit the wall, leaving the brick black and singed. Draco gaped, eyes wide, from you to the wall. "That could have killed me!" "You're pathetic." You spat, hot with fury. "You will never, never, understand what it's like to not have a choice." Something flickered in his eyes, and his features pulled in painfully tight. You faltered. You'd never seen him look so angry, except for perhaps the first time you'd seen him in the bathrooms. "You think I had a choice?" Draco hissed, eyes stormy as he glared at you. "You think I fucking wanted this? If I don't do this - my mother will die, I will die!" A terrible silence fell between you. Breathing shallow and heart hammering in your chest, you stared at him, horror settling in your chest. Draco seemed to be just as stunned, shoulders rising and falling harshly, rage still echoing in his now fallen expression. "Do what?" Your voice trembled as you spoke. His eyes darted away from you, before he became vacant again. "It's none of your business." He grumbled, stalking toward the door. "We're done for today." "Draco-" But he had already unlocked the door with the flick of his wand, and you came to stand in the doorway as he strode out the room, vanishing into the darkness of the corridor.

[pulaasul]

Billy Batson and the Woes of Journalism

Billy takes Colin Creevey as an intern, as per Professor Mcgonagall's suggestion. There Billy teaches Colin on proper etiquette on taking pictures and sometimes vent on how the Daily Prophet and the entirety of Wizarding Britain's press media write their articles.

[FFN] [Ao3]

---------

Colin was nervous.

He didn't know why Gryffindor's head of house called him to her office. As far as he knew he didn't break any rules like some of his housemates did, even managed to stick by the curfew at the last second.

He has learned his lesson when the Chamber of Secrets was opened, thank you very much.

He wasn't even in the business of pranking like the Weasley twins were.

The Creevey knocked on the door and gulped down anything else that was on his mind.

"Professor Mcgonagall? You wanted to see me?"

"Yes Mr. Creevey!" Professor Mcgonagall nodded. "Come in, come in."

Colin nodded and went inside the room then closed the door behind him.

What caught Colin's immediate attention was that his transfigurations teacher wasn't alone in her office, there was another man seated by the chair facing the fireplace.

"Mr. Creevey I would like you to meet Mr. Batson from the Mudblood." Professor Mcgonagall introduced the man. "I'm sure you remember the person who taught muggle studies at the Great Hall."

Colin nodded as a response.

"Nice to meet you Mr. Creevey." The man offered his hand. "If you have forgotten my name, I'm William Batson."

"It's nice to meet you too Mr. Batson sir." Colin shyly shook the man's hand.

"William's fine." William chuckled.

"Please take a seat Mr. Creevey." Professor Mcgonagall ordered.

Colin nodded as he sat at the chair facing a table with stacks of parchment on top of it.

Professor Mcgonagall nodded as she took her seat behind the table while William took the seat beside the young boy.

"Mr. Creevey, I've received complaints regarding you and your camera. " The Deputy Headmistress cleared sorted the number of parchment on her table to the side. "You have the propensity to brandish your camera and take pictures anytime and anywhere with little regard to anyone near you." She relayed what she had heard. "Some of the staff has recommended that we confiscate your camera while some students had requested the same and even called for its destruction as, in their opinion, you became a nuisance especially for the students taking their OWLs and NEWTs."

Colin visibly sagged as he listened to Professor Mcgonagall's spiel. He knew he was being annoying when started taking pictures every chance he got. The maddest anyone has got due to his behavior was when he had the unfortunate circumstance of taking a picture of both Professor Snape and Mr. Filch, near curfew.

The flash from his camera caused Mrs. Norris to run away and almost fall down a flight of stairs.

"Holy Moley!" William exclaimed. "Surely you can't destroy a student's personal effects?"

"Naturally." Professor Mcgonagall agreed.

"That's good to know." William nodded.

The journalist opened his mouth to continue his line of thought when realization hit him. A smile adorned his face as he processed what he realized, he looked at Creevey and offered a smile.

"I see," William nodded. "I see where you're going with this Professor."

"I am here to offer you something Mr. Creevey." The deputy headmistress offered. "Hogwarts has never seen a passionate photographer in years, and one as talented as you." She handed William a piece of parchment. "In exchange for not brandishing your camera every chance you get, how would you like to be the Mudblood's youngest intern."

"I-I'm not expelled?"

"Of course not." Professor Mcgonagall shook her head. "Wherever did you get that idea Mr. Creevey?"

"I heard some students say that especially with Harry Potter's and Ron Weasley's arrival last year." Colin admitted.

"Your situation is rather minor compared to the infractions committed by Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley at the beginning of last year's term." Professor Mcgonagall huffed. "They could've just sent an owl regarding the matter at King's Cross but they had to fly Mr. Weasley's father's flying car."

"That's going to put a lot of work on the Obliviators." William winced. "And the Department of Magical Law Enforcement as well, considering the distance between Hogwarts and King's Cross station."

"An eight hour travel by train." Professor Mcgonagall nodded.

"I'm surprised Mr. Weasley's father wasn't sent to Azkaban for his son's stunt, it is a major breach of the Statute of Secrecy."

"Fortunately for the Weasley family, some muggles has come up of a reason for the phenomenon."

"That and the law regarding muggle artifacts enchanted by magic has major loopholes." William chuckled. "Mr. Weasley's father is rather clever."

"It's pure dumb luck." Professor Mcgonagall huffed. "In any case, what do you say Mr. Creevey?"

"If sir William Batson would have me."

"Nonsense Mr. Creevey, I would be delighted to have you around." William grinned. "My nephew, Billy, would love to have someone closer to his age around the offices."

"I'm sorry, nephew?"

"I'm homeschooling him since I came to his life." William admitted. "I didn't know Hogwarts would be accepting transfer students, especially someone older than a first year."

"If you don't mind me asking, how old is your nephew?"

"He's sixteen, a bit small for his age." William shrugged. "Late bloomer too, he discovered his magic during his 13th birthday."

"I can understand the need for homeschooling your nephew, although rare, some magical children do exhibit their magical gifts late." Professor Mcgonagall sighed.

"Enough about Billy." William swerved the topic back on track. "I do have questions about this arrangement with Mr. Creevey. First off, I would like for him to take pictures around the school so that I can mentor him on how to take a good photograph, especially moving ones."

Professor Mcgonagall nodded in agreement, the whole idea of letting Colin Creevey intern with the Mudblood was to hone his talent in photography both moving and still. It wouldn't be good for the boy if he were to be banned from taking pictures altogether.

"Tell me Mr. Creevey." William turned to the boy. "Did you ever ask for the consent of the people in your photographs?"

"No sir William." Colin admitted. "Once I see something I like, I would immediately try to snap a picture."

"Does that 'something you like' happen to be in the vicinity of students, teachers and staff?"

"Yes sir, most of the time."

"Well then, consider this your first lesson, you first need to ask if it's okay to take their pictures." William stated. "That way you can gain your subject's trust rather than hate you for taking unsolicited photographs that your subject might or might not find themselves in an unflattering position."

"Tell me Mr. Creevey, are your subjects in your photographs the students of this school?" Professor Mcgonagall asked.

"Not exactly professor." Colin shook his head. "Sometimes I find the sunrise at Gryffindor tower beautiful to look at so I take a picture of it."

"I see where this is going." William chuckled. "Am I right in assuming that most of the students complaining are Gryffindors?"

"Yes." The professor sighed.

"Of course they would complain, most find their sleeping positions and their wake up look unflattering, most especially if they just got out of bed, which is usually the case during early mornings in the common room." William grinned. "Next time, wait until no one is in front of your camera to take your picture, but if you really want it and people still keep on coming, especially if you're not one of the earliest risers, asking nicely would do the trick."

"I quite agree." Professor Mcgonagall nodded.

"So Colin, Can I call you Colin?"

Colin responded with a nod.

"What have you learned today Colin?" William asked.

"I need to ask for permission before taking someone's picture and if I want to capture a scenery I should wait until no one's in front of my camera or ask nicely."

"Good." William nodded. "Are you allowed to go to Hogsmead tomorrow?"

"He is." Professor Mcgonagall answered for the boy. "Provided that he has a chaperone from the staff, as I have meetings at the village almost every weekend, I can be that chaperone."

"Wouldn't that count as favoritism Professor?" William raised an eyebrow.

"Not necessarily, I've chaperoned students on parents' requests before." The deputy headmistress shook her head. "However, we still need for his parent's consent, which the two of us will ask sometime this week."

"Well then, if you are able Colin, meet me at Madam Puddifoot's tea shop, bring with you your camera and the photographs that you have already taken."

"I trust that you will not be brandishing your camera and take any unsolicited pictures Mr. Creevey?"

"Yes Professor Mcgonagall."

"You are dismissed."

Colin exited the room.

"Nephew?" Professor Mcgonagall raised an eyebrow.

"I can't have him knowing about my cursed form, now can I?" William grinned. "Besides, my supposed nephew is among the listed employees of the Mudblood."

"Isn't that a form of corruption?"

"Technically yes, I am getting paid as the Mudblood's editor-in-chief while also chucking out articles." William admitted. "My cursed form, being a separate entity, is also getting paid for producing articles hence getting double compensation. It's just fair, isn't it? I mean I am producing articles both as William and as Billy."

"I am not refuting your logic William." Professor Mcgonagall shook her head. "I would think that an auror as distinguished as you, one who has curtailed the corruption of the descendants of the scourers within MACUSA would be above that."

"So you have heard of that." William sighed.

"The Headmaster's power as the ICW's Supreme Mugwump does help out a lot when researching the backgrounds of people outside of Wizarding Britain, especially one who's arrival came as a surprise for the headmaster."

"Yeah, well, you can blame your current Minister of Magic for that." William sighed. "Seriously, every time I visit the Ministry for permits and travel authorities, the one approving my papers is the Junior Assistant, might as well make the Junior Assistant the Minister for all the work she's doing."

"Minister Fudge has qualities that's leaves a lot to be desired." Professor Mcgonagall sighed.

"What has he done?"

"He claims that Pettigrew is still under Ministry custody when in fact Madam Bones has contacted the school a week ago that he has escaped by placing a guard under the Imperious curse."

"He did what?!" William growled. "What of the Weasleys?"

"Madam Bones's hands are tied, Minister Fudge refused to put a protection detail near the Weasley's residence, and in fact he ordered the DMLE not to pursue the matter."

"Why won't Dumbledore do something about this?" William decided to ask.

"I don't know." Professor Mcgonagall shook her head. "As I understood his position, Albus's hands are tied as well, he can't oppose the Minister or Leader who he answers to."

"That pesky clause." William growled. "Didn't think that a clause that protects every magical government from usurpation from within the ICW would be unknowingly used to protect a criminal running free."

"You hold a seat at the ICW?"

"Don't count your owls yet Professor Mcgonagall." William shook his head. "With Dumbledore as the Supreme Mugwump, the ICW is powerless to act against your ministry, not unless other countries would jump to my aid, which is rather unlikely as I'm a new addition to the council and Pettigrew is largely a Britain problem and not the world."

"Anyway, back to Colin, am I right to assume that none of the students are allowed to be anywhere aside from Hogsmeade?"

"Unless there's an emergency or the headmaster gives an approval."

"Looks like I need to set up a hub at Hogsmeade then."

--------

"Glad you could make it Colin." William took a sip of tea from his cup. "Where's Professor Mcgonagall?"

"This is a lifetime opportunity Sir William sir." Colin enthusiastically replied as he too took a sip of tea. "After we saw you outside, she immediately ordered me to stay here until she would fetch me, she also told me to request you not to leave until she's here to fetch me."

"Just William's fine." William smiled. "I can live with that." He nodded. "In any case, can I see your photographs?"

Colin nodded as he enlarged a stack of photographs he retrieved from his pant pocket and handed them over to William for inspection.

"You've mastered the engorgement and shrinking charms." William commented.

"I wouldn't say I mastered them but I've used them on a lot of occasions, mainly to easily carry things around." Colin admitted. "I don't think people would appreciate me carrying around muggle backpacks, especially the Slytherin people."

"You didn't have to justify yourself Colin." William ruffled the boy's hair. "I was just commenting on your use of the spells."

William looked through the stack of photographs the young boy has taken. He first sorted through the ones Colin took during first year, most of which were still pictures, before moving on to the photographs the young boy took during the current year.

From the looks of things, the boy learnt from his mistakes, even when he was teaching himself. The boy even learned to make pictures move at the end of his first year, which was a feat in of itself.

"Tell me Colin, who taught you to make your pictures move?"

"It was Professor Flitwick sir." Colin admitted. "I might've tried to get a picture of the feather he was levitating which earned me a detention." He chuckled sheepishly as he rubbed the back of his head. "I know it wasn't one of my brightest moments."

"A Gryffindor to the core." William chuckled. "What did you do with Professor Flitwick?"

"Surprisingly, he just asked me to get something for him at the top of a shelf then taught me how to make the pictures move after developing them."

"I'm guessing, Professor Flitwick gave you access to a dark room?"

"Yes sir." Colin nodded.

"Moving on." William declared. "Would you sit beside me Colin, we'll begin lesson two."

Colin obliged and sat beside the older man as they stared at a few pictures of one Harry Potter.

"First off, you need to adjust your lens so that you'll have a proper focus on your subject or get a find a suitable location that would force your lens to focus on your subject." William pointed at Harry's wide-eyes and blurred figure. "One would think that your subject was the blond Slytherin behind Mr. Potter."

Behind the blurry but wide-eyed figures of Harry, Ron and Hermoine was Draco Malfoy with narrowed eyes.

"Tha-that's Draco Malfoy!"

"Was he your subject when you took the picture?"

"I was introducing myself to Harry at the Great Hall." Colin blushed. "For the 20th time I think."

"Someone's a fanboy." William teased.

"He's Harry Potter! The Boy-who-lived!"

"One thing you need to keep in mind Colin is that all our human subjects are indeed human, people." William shook his head. "They all have feelings, dreams and ambitions in life, it would just annoy some people with how you treat them as an object of affection rather than their own person."

"Hence we need to ask for their permission when taking their picture." Colin sighed.

"You're a quick study." William praised.

"I had the whole evening to think about what you and Professor Mcgonagall said.

"So long as you understand now, it's okay." William smiled.

William picked another photograph, another still one. He showed the picture to the young boy.

"Tell me what's wrong with this picture Colin."

The photograph showed someone eating an apple too close to the camera as others were studying in the Great Hall, judging from the girl's robes, she was a Ravenclaw student.

"Someone was in the way of my subject?" Colin questioned, unsure of the answer.

"Am I right in assuming that this person in the photograph walked in just as you captured the picture?" William questioned.

Colin nodded. "I wanted to take a picture of Harry Potter when he was studying."

"Instead you got a picture of someone eating an apple walking between you and your subject." William raised an eyebrow.

Colin had the decency to blush at the comment.

"No one can really do anything about this case, apart from the first lesson we had yesterday." William stated. "The next right thing to do would be retaking the photograph again."

The discussion between Colin and William continued on until lunch when the older man treated the young boy. As the both of them ate, the young boy enthusiastically what he thought of Hogwarts, his peers, his housemates and of course his hero, one Harry Potter.

In retrospect, it does explain the multitude of photographs of the famed boy-who-lived.

"I'm gonna have to stop you there Colin." William spoke. "You do know that Harry was only a year old when he supposedly defeated you-know-who?"

"Really?" Colin questioned. "From what I read when after buying some books was that Harry dueled against you-know-who."

"Think about it for a second Colin, what year is Harry currently?"

"Third year? Why?"

"How old is he?"

"Thirteen?"

"Do the math."

"But the books said…" Colin trailed off.

"Here's a life lesson for you Colin." William smiled at the young boy. "You shouldn't believe everything you read or hear at face value."

"Face value?"

"You shouldn't take things literally." William explained.

Colin was silent as he mulled over William's words. In retrospect, he did notice that Harry was annoyed whenever he brought up the boy-who-lived title within his earshot and the level of annoyance Harry exhibit whenever he's near is different from the level of annoyance he has observed on everyone else.

Harry was just too polite to say anything to anyone or to him, unlike some of the other students who wanted to have his camera destroyed.

"Should I apologize to him?"

"You could, but I think he doesn't blame you." William looked at the boy. "Neither do I, a lot of the adults are perpetuating the idea that Harry is some powerful wizard who managed to defeat you-know-who as a baby. Personally I blame the publishers and adults who normalized that way of thinking."

"One of the things why you started a news magazine here?" Colin asked.

"I've read some articles by the Daily Prophet and by Merlin those were bad, really bad."

"How so?"

"For one they don't follow the proper way in writing their headlines and articles." William growled." Seriously adding in, I quote: writes Rita Skeeter your special correspondent', into the article lessens its credibility."

"You really have some bone to pick with how the news are written here." Colin chuckled.

"The list of my grievances of the press media in Wizarding Britain doesn't end there." William shook his head. "I could go on and on, but we'd lose precious time with me ranting." He chuckled.

After lunch William continued inspecting Colin's photographs and imparted lessons about the proper ways to take pictures and proper etiquette when before, during and after taking them. In addition to the photography lessons that William has been teaching the young boy since their meeting with Professor Mcgonagall.

"Looks like the sun is about to set and I see Professor Mcgonagall approaching the shop." William observed. "Let's continue this next week, I'm introducing you to some of the Mudblood's employees."

"Really?"

"You're already an intern, you should know them." William shrugged.

"Thank you so much Mr. Batson sir!" Colin thanked the journalist profusely.

William merely shook his head as Colin's infectious enthusiasm put a smile on his face.

"I told you William's fine." The journalist smiled at the young boy. "Since the sun's setting, practice the spells I taught you alright?"

"Will do!"

---------

"Have you waited long Colin?" William waved at the young boy inside the shop.

"I just arrived myself William." Colin waved back. "Professor Mcgonagall told me the same thing last time."

"I had already told her that I was going to leave you with my employees for the day." William gestured for a blonde man beside him. "Oscar, this is Colin Creevey, he's the Hogwarts intern I've been telling you all about." He placed his hand on the young Creevey's head.

"Hello Colin." Oscar offered his hand to the young boy. "I'm Oscar Ollerton, I'm a pureblood Wizard." He introduced himself to the young boy.

"H-hello, I'm Colin Creevey." Colin introduced himself. "I'm a muggleborn wizard." He whispered.

"Come now Creevey, there's no need to be whisper your blood status, you do know that the Mudblood's owner is a muggleborn himself."

"I-I know." Colin nodded.

"Well I guess with the Slytherin lot, you'd have to be careful." Oscar sighed. "In any case, welcome to the Mudblood." He patted the young boy's back. "Between the three of us, I believe muggleborns are simply related to squibs that were disowned by wizarding families." He shared. "Or of half-bloods, Merlin knows there are more half-bloods than there are pureblood wizards these days."

"Especially with the three generation rule." William interjected. "Oscar I'm placing Colin and Billy in your care." He informed the other man. "Professor Mcgonagall is going to pick Colin up at the end of the day."

"You know Billy can take care of himself, right William?"

"Another pair of eyes never hurt anyone Oscar." William smiled. "Billy would be bringing the other employees who are off duty today, get Colin acquainted with you guys."

"Where will you be William?" Colin asked, curious as to why the owner won't be with them.

"I'm off to the Ministry later today, I'm preparing for my documents for my trip back to the Americas later in the month."

"We'll miss you and Billy, William." Oscar stated.

"Holy Moley, you're acting like we're leaving Wizarding Britain for good Oscar." William chuckled. "This is like the fiftieth time I'm going to the Americas since arriving here. I'm just sorting out the Mudblood papers in MACUSA and the ICW."

"Aren't the ICW meeting venues dependent on who the current Supreme Mugwump is?" Oscar questioned. "In this case, it would be here in Britain?"

"Normally yes," William nodded. "But any of the council members can request to hold meetings in other places, subject to the Supreme Mugwump's approval."

"This time it's the Americas?"

"I don't know, I have to confirm it to MACUSA's current President, President Calderon"

"Huh, I blame Professor Binns for my ignorance about the Wizarding World, especially the ICW." Oscar huffed. "Anyway, Billy and the others must be waiting for you William."

"Okay, Oscar you take charge in introducing Colin to the rest, including Billy."

"Will do."

William vanished with a lightning strike.

"What just happened?" Colin managed to ask, unable to process what has happened.

"While waiting, I'll explain to you what William and I were talking about." Oscar patted Colin's shoulder. "I do hope I'm good at explaining things than Professor Binns."

"I can't keep my eyes open whenever Professor Binns is the teacher." Colin shyly admitted.

"Only a rare few can." Oscar chuckled. "Thankfully I read all my History of Magic textbooks."

---------

"Wow Oscar." Billy grinned. "You've managed to corrupt someone yet again."

"What do you mean corrupt Billy?" Oscar replied indignantly. "Colin was curious as to what your uncle and I were talking about."

"Forgive my friend Oscar kid, he tends to talk everyone's ear off, especially to the ones who would actually listen." Billy chuckled. "Aren't you supposed to introduce us to the kid Oscar?"

"Fine." Oscar rolled his eyes. "Everyone from the Mudblood, please meet Colin Creevey, he's our photographer intern here."

"William's accepting interns now?"

"Yes, Goldstein." Oscar nodded. "Why don't you guys introduce yourselves?"

"Hello Colin," Billy grinned at the young boy. "I'm Billy Batson." He introduced himself. "I'm a no-maj born from the Americas, discovered that I had magic when I was thirteen."

"I'm Mary Atkinson." The woman beside Billy smiled. "I'm a half-blood, my deceased mother was a witch." She shared.

"I'm Frederick Fawcett, a pureblood wizard." The boy to the right of Billy introduced himself. "Did you know that William originally wanted to name the news site Fawcett but decided not to when he found out about my family."

"Does not mean William favors you Freddy." Mary rolled his eyes. "Please try to forgive him, he can be quite vain."

"Hey!"

A few more employees of the Mudblood introduced themselves to Colin, eager to meet the new intern for the company.

From what Colin observed, most of the Mudblood's employees were on the young side, the youngest was in their mid-20s and the oldest was in their late 30s, well except for Batson who's in his mid teens. In hindsight, from what Colin had gathered, the news magazine was relatively new and it made sense that the employees were relatively young.

Apart from Ollerton, Atkinson, Fawcett and Batson, Colin also met an Alves, a Maestro, a Wright, a Bailey, a Wilson, a Goldstein, a Macfusty, and an Alton during his day with the other employees of the Mudblood at Hogsmead.

"This is just half of the entire workforce of the Mudblood." Billy informed. "These guys are supposed to be on their day off, well some of them had their day offs moved to this day, just to meet you."

"I feel sorry for the people who remained at the office, hence some of us would be returning for duty after lunch." Mary sighed.

"They must be swamped with work." Freddy shivered at the thought.

"So tell us how you got to be an intern Colin?" Oscar questioned the boy. "In the years that the Mudblood has existed, William hasn't taken in any interns until now."

Colin blushed at the mere thought of how he got the internship but he nonetheless shared the story enthusiastically he then got to know his relatively older colleagues.

---------

Colin was nervous as he made his way to Professor Mcgonagall's office. He kept on thinking on what he had done for the past week and nothing came to mind as to the reason for this particular summon.

Colin hasn't violated any rules, he managed to get inside the Gryffindor common room before curfew, he hasn't even violated the deal he had struck with his head of house, while he was still wearing his camera on his neck and he didn't brandish the camera every time he wanted to capture a scene.

The Creevey knocked on the door.

"Mr. Creevey, you're just in time." Professor Mcgonagall opened the door. "Come inside, I trust that you brought your camera with you?"

"Yes Professor."

"Very good," The deputy headmistress nodded. "As it happens we were just waiting for you."

Colin was confused, why would anyone wait for him inside Professor Mcgonagall's office.

He entered the office and the room was full of people, from the entire Weasley family to William to the Headmaster himself.

"Colin?" Ginny exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

"Ginny?" Colin did a double take on who called him. "I… I don't know." He admitted.

"Am… Am I in trouble?"

"No dear boy." Dumbledore shook his head. "You are here at the request of Mr. Batson."

"William?"

"Yes Colin." William nodded. "I would like you to take photographs for the interview I'm taking."

"Children?" The Weasley matriarch called. "Could you introduce us?"

"Mum, Dad, Bill, Charlie this is Colin Creevey, a Gryffindor in Ginny's year." The Gryffindor Head Boy obliged. "Colin, this is my family, you've met the twins, Ronald and Ginny." He gestured towards the Weasleys that the Creevey knew. "This is my mother: Molly Weasley, My father: Arthur Weasley and my older brothers: Bill and Charlie Weasley."

"Nice to meet you Messers and Mrs. Weasley, I'm Colin Creevey."

"What a polite young boy." Molly praised. "You say you're in Ginny's year?"

"Yes Mrs. Weasley." Colin nodded.

"He's a big fan of Harrys." Ron supplied.

"Could give Ginny a run for her galleons." The twins snickered.

"I wasn't that bad!" Ginny huffed.

Colin blushed at how the Weasleys described him, he really gave a bad first impressions.

"Now that we're all introduced, I would like to get this interview underway." William declared. "I'm sure Messers Weasley are being missed at their respective workplaces."

The Weasleys straightened their postures as they prepared for the interview.

"Before we begin, should my paper not reveal your names for the paper, our organization values the privacy of all our subjects."

"Please do." Arthur nodded. "Knowing Scabbers was a death eater, other followers of you-know-who could strike at any moment."

"Well then, Colin remember what I taught you last week."

"Yes sir." Colin nodded. "Only take pictures of their neck below and only take still pictures, no need of the potions to move them."

"Still?" Dumbledore questioned.

"Yes still." William nodded. "Body language can still be used to identify someone if we take moving pictures, the entirety of the Weasley family could be compromised, making their request to remain anonymous moot."

"I see, carry on."

"Wait." Professor Mcgonagall interrupted. "What about Mr. and Mrs. Weasleys? Unlike their children, they aren't qualified to wear school-sanctioned robes."

"Right!" William nodded. "Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, if it's not too much to ask, can we ask you to wear these." He handed the Weasley parents two sets of robes. "Your anonymity would be compromised if people can identify you through your clothes." He explained.

"I do apologize for giving you trouble Mr. Batson." Molly apologized. "I didn't realize a simple request such as this would be so troublesome."

"Not at all." William shook his head. "We at the Mudblood value our subjects' requests and privacy." He smiled at the Weasley family. "Shall we get started then?"

William started to question the entire family starting with the family's head, Arthur Weasley then his wife, Molly and next were the children the twins and then Ginny.

Percy and Ron were the last people to be questioned as they were the first and last owners of the rat animagus.

"Thank you Mr. and Mrs. Weasley for your time." William thanked the Weasley parents. "This should shed some light as to how Pettigrew was able to escape and hide from the authorities."

"It was our pleasure." Molly smiled. "I do admit being shocked upon learning that a supposed dead man has disguised himself as my son's pet." She admitted. "The thought that someone who could have been a death eater living in our home was disconcerting to say the least."

"I know." William offered a strained smile. "I hate to be the bearer of bad news but Pettigrew has escaped Ministry custody earlier this week."

"The Daily Prophet said that he hasn't." Molly's eyes widened even with Percy's denial. "Minister Fudge said so, even your paper reported that Mr. William."

"That is the official stance of the Ministry." William nodded. "Regardless of the Minister's stance on the issue, I believe you won't lose anything if you would prepare yourselves for any event." He offered.

"Constant Vigilance, as my good friend Moody would say." Dumbledore interjected.

"Thank you for informing us Mr. Batson." Arthur thanked the news reporter. "I don't think I will gamble my family's life and safety on the Minister's words."

"That would be for the best." William nodded. "I'll send your family an owl and give you a hundred galleons in a week or two."

"No, no that won't be necessary Mr. Batson." Arthur shook his head, trying to politely decline the offer.

"Don't get me wrong Arthur, every the Mudblood subject is legible to get monetary compensation for sharing to us their side of their story." William smiled. "This will also include the monetary compensation for your children back when Pettigrew was first discovered within the castle walls."

"If that's the case, then we thank you for the compensation Mr. Batson." Arthur sighed.

"I am simply adapting the muggle press standard in the Americas." William admitted. "I am also of the opinion that the Daily Prophet and Witch Weekly adapt the same system but alas everyone's disdain for muggles here in Wizarding Britain is prominent."

"You do not include the Quibbler?" Percy questioned.

"The Quibbler hardly have as many subscribers as the Daily Prophet and Witch Weekly do." William shook his head. "I don't think Mr. Lovegood could pay for the compensation of his subjects."

The Weasleys exchanged goodbyes to everyone in the room before exiting.

"Mr. Creevey, why don't you tour Mr. Batson around the school?"

"No that's okay Headmaster." William shook his head. "Colin still has to develop the pictures he took today and I need them for tomorrow's paper." He explained. "Remember the spell to fast track the development of still pictures."

Colin nodded excitedly.

"You have brewed the potions correct?" William asked some more.

Colin continued to nod as a response.

"Off you go then, I'll send you a Patronus if I want to meet with you immediately."

"Right away William." Colin gave the Batson a salute before he exited the room.

"Are you certain you will be okay on your own Mr. Batson?" Dumbledore questioned.

"Positive." William nodded. "Although I must thank you for discovering the Patronus charm's communicating properties, it has been a literal lifesaver, especially for the MACUSA aurors."

"Think nothing of it Mr. Batson." Professor Dumbledore smiled. "It was needed during our fight against Voldemort."

"Still, thank you for divulging that particular spell to the ICW."

"Glad to be of help Mr. Batson." Professor Dumbledore nodded.

---------

William exited Professor Mcgonagall's office and leisurely walked around the castle's halls. He looked around and saw various prefects about to begin their patrol. He even saw Professor Flitwick, Percy Weasley and Colin Creevey talking with each other.

"I trust that this wouldn't be a common occurrence Creevey?" William heard Percy question. "You may have been with me and my family and took some photographs, it doesn't mean that you can wander around past curfew."

"It's quite alright Mr. Weasley." Professor Flitwick assured. "Professor Mcgonagall has informed me Mr. Creevey's circumstances, I will personally lead him to the Gryffindor common room once he is finished with his tasks."

"Please don't trouble yourself Professor." Percy shook his head. "After I've met with the prefects on duty for the night, I will see to it that Mr. Creevey will be back to the Gryffindor Tower myself."

"Mr. Creevey, please proceed to the Dark Room, just near the Ravenclaw tower." Professor Flitwick ordered. "I will negotiate with the school's head boy."

Colin merely nodded obliged with the order given to him.

"I commend you for your adherence to the rules Mr. Weasley, 10 points to Gryffindor." Professor Flitwick praised. "However, I must insist that I escort Mr. Creevey back to Gryffindor Tower as I am aware of the many tasks Mr. Creevey has on his plate." He explained. "I am there both to ensure Mr. Creevey's safety as he deals with the various tasks of printing the photographs and guide him for his first time-constrained work."

"Time-constrained?"

"You are aware that the interview you have had with the Mudblood news magazine was abrupt?"

"I must admit it was disconcerting to be called to my Head of House's office had the twins put themselves in trouble." Percy nodded.

"Mr. Creevey was also caught unaware of this interview," Professor Flitwick sighed. "And the photos are needed for tomorrow's paper, you understand?"

"I see what you mean for this being a time-constrained project." Percy nodded. "Very well, if both the headmaster and Professor Mcgonagall are aware of this arrangement, then I guess I'll concede to your directive Professor Flitwick."

The Charm's professor nodded. "Run along now, I'm sure the Head girl and the other prefects are waiting for you."

William smiled at the interaction between the student and teacher. He can already tell that Percy Weasley will be most efficient working in the Ministry, his work-ethic would leave him untainted by the Ministry's corruption, barring the Imperious curse of course.

The journalist continued on walking around the school's hallways aimlessly. William didn't have an exact location in mind to go visit, but there was this pull on his core, on his magic, on his very person that he couldn't help but let it lead him.

William arrived at the castle's seventh floor, a floor he had yet to explore. He felt that the pull was stronger here, as if it was a child impatient for their chaperone to keep up with them. He shook his head and let it lead him to a blank wall.

"This is where you were." William smiled as he caressed the wall.

Soon enough, a majestic door appeared on the wall. William pushed the door that just appeared and went inside.

[betterbemeta]

one thing I haven’t seen talked about a lot is how the police serve as a placebo and concentration for violence, inside a right-wing government structure. They’re not just the physical guards of the structure, they also serve as the psycho-social (?) guards of the structure

Like you’re going to have to forgive the shitty video game example but I am a shitty video game person-- lately, I have been studying the DOOM series for my own purposes. This is, in our modern day, one of the surviving OG Violent Video Games. Doom Eternal exists today because a corporation acknowledged the niche love for violence as something that consumers want and will sell. And people love it! I love it! Fuck!! I love watching stuff come apart, just ruining something that wants to rip my face off in kind and watching as all the sweet loot falls out. Video games have a lot of satisfaction that is like this.

But the thing is, G@merG8 was a right wing phenomenon. It appealed to people on the basis of expressing the violence cooped up inside of them, true... but the right wing of politics is not about individual expressions of thoughts and emotions, parity, or even violence. It is about hierarchies, supporting a top-down organization of life that puts the monarch autocrat boss on top, and everyone else finds meaning within their Place below. This is why most right-wing associated violence is typically an appeal to such a structure, that things have gone wrong somehow for that structure and violence is required to put everything ‘back where it belongs’-- often by killing some kind of deviant (homophobia), manipulator (antisemitism), or invader (racism) that is required to explain their obsessions.

So the right wing perspective of politics idealizes violence as a means to enforce the ‘correct will’ of their desired structures, but also forbids violence from the general public because it’s Not Your Place to wield any sort of tool that could threaten the structure. Those same dudes who acutely feel catharsis in RIP AND TEAR!!! a la Doom Eternal are the same guys who are acting like “this isn’t a protest, it’s a riot. I cannot understand those animals who use violence. Those are brutal thugs out there, smashing cars and looting stores, it’s not civil, we need to have a more restrained dialogue, please don’t make any show of force”

So how can this be? That they can get it but also not get it?

This brings me back to my original topic. The police. The police are the key to this weirdo mentality. The Police (and the military) are the sanctioned users of violence in most world societies today. In the right-wing hierarchical structure, it is Their Place to express violence. Relating to and empathizing with the police is the right wing’s intended outlet for violence among the lower and middle class, give or take a few weird gun fetishes (but only for white people.)

And because of all of this, the idea that the police are ‘for’ people who wish to express violence flourishes unsaid in the population. I believe that people who have unhealthy relationships with their inner potential for violence, or seek a life outlet, are more likely to choose law enforcement as a career. Malicious violence is, I believe, concentrated within the police because of these right-wing structures that reduce agency (and thus mobility, or the ability to rebel) in the general population. Joining the police, or worshiping the police, are then the only possibilities for that violent ability.

Maybe its cringy, of the stop-comparing-things-to-harry-potter vein. But I fully believe that doomguy would smash lines of cops advancing on, firing on protesters. I fully believe doomguy’s violence is aligned with the violence that trashes a cop car. I don’t really like discourse that focuses on how actually all the violence is a false flag by white supremacists and police, outside agitators, whatever whatever-- there is a violence that white supremacy, that any hierarchical, totalitarian state wishes to subdue at all costs. It prefers lukewarm, silent, unobtrusive, stay-in-your-place token gestures as they don’t threaten the structure of anything-- and even those are crushed, if they linger. There is a reason why the AIDS Coalition to Unleash Power was named that: ACT UP. There is a reason why nazi punching threatened less extreme conservatives and even liberals.

Unleashing some violence, in times of great need, is human. It is part of agency. The police aren’t just abusers of that agency, like so many people with situational or institutional power, they serve as the designated outlet for that agency so average civilians cannot fight for their rights.

[mojamoza]

How To Turn Your Passion Into Profits

Everyone has passion within them. All they have to do is to realize it. Everyone has some kind of passion in them; even people who deny that they aren’t passionate about anything have some kind of passion in them. Most people live without realizing their passion and among those that know they are passionate about something; the majority do not seem to care. Forget making money out of their passion; they don’t even want to acknowledge to themselves that something can be made out of it. Consider a young man who is exceptionally fond of playing drums. He might be very good, but unless he realizes that his talent for playing drums can make money for him, he won’t actually do it. But for that, he needs to do two things: - - First, accept and believe that he has the talent - Second, use that talent in marketable forms so that money might be made with it. Since we are going to talk about how you can unleash the potential of your passion for your moneymaking aspirations, the first thing you need is to understand where your passion lies. Once you do that, you have to make plans in order to start monetizing your passion. Your passion could be the thing that you like to do the most. Picture this – you are in a 9 to 5 job for your daily bread and butter. But the thing that really drives you are those weekends you spend at the beach, indulging in some parasailing. Now, there is your passion! You trudge on through the whole week just to have that one day of parasailing at the end of it. That’s your passion. This is the kind of passion you can potentially tap into. You certainly have a lot of inside knowledge through your trysts with your passion which you could tap into. You could write an eBook about it, start a website, start an online group, etc. There are several ways in which you can earn money doing things you really want to do. So, how much money can you make by digging into your passion? Spend a moment thinking about J. K. Rowling. Or think about Roger Ebert. Or think about Donald Trump. Or think about Paul Greengrass. These are people who are immensely rich. But what made them rich? They are rich not through things that they don’t like to do – they are rich through the things they really like to do, things that they think they exist for. J. K. Rowling had a passion for writing ever since she could remember. She began writing when she was a kid. Despite the various difficulties in her life, she did not give up. She continued writing whenever she could. With two kids in tow, this woman conjured the biggest fiction phenomenon of our generation – Harry Potter. When she made Harry Potter, did she think she would become richer than the Queen? Not at all. She just wrote it out. She gave vent to her passion. The rest just happened. There’s probably no cinema critic as crazy for movies as Roger Ebert is. He writes reviews for practically every movie that’s released. See how he has converted his passion for movies into his work? His movie reviews are the most highly-prized and he gets paid handsomely for watching movies and penning his keen observation about them! Need one say anything about Donald Trump? Business is his forte, his passion. And he is unstoppable there. When he has one venture running, he invests in another. He doesn’t even have the time to stop and think about the money. He is just giving vent to his innate passion, allowing it to manifest itself in whatever way it can. Paul Greengrass is known as one of the most upstart directors in Hollywood today. His directorial styles have been criticized earlier, especially his penchant for using shaky camera moves, but did he bend his style to please his early detractors? No, he didn’t! And what did he come up with? The Bourne series, that’s what! And his movies have become cult. Not forgetting, he’s become quite filthy rich. Chase your passion. Don’t listen to detraction. Are you good at something, so good that you feel it coming out of your ears? Well, then go right ahead with confidence. You have it in you to make money out of it. Some important principles that you have to base your passion-related moneymaking ventures on. It is quite possible to make money out of your passion, but as it is with any other moneymaking opportunity, you must remember that there are some principles and ethics that you need to follow. We shall take a look at some of them here. 1. It is highly important that you respect whatever it is that you are dealing with. If your passion is coin collecting, make sure you bring about the right reverence to your activities. You cannot start blatantly criticizing and abusing this subject. Well, you could criticize, but then you have to justify what you say. Remember that you are trying to make money here. Since your target audience is going to be other people who are also passionate about this subject, you will not earn anything if you sling mud at it without reason. 2. Be knowledgeable. People who will come to you already know the basics. What they want to learn is the viewpoint of another expert on the subject. Make absolutely certain that you know all the terms well and that your facts are right. 3. Keep up with the times. Things are going to change fast, whatever your scope of interest is. Always keep on the move learning new things. It could be a great idea to use Google Alerts which can tell you what’s happening around you. 4. Be responsive. When people reach out to you, they are hoping to commingle with someone else who has the same likes as them. They are reaching out with some expectations in their mind. Don’t believe these. If you do, you are effectively stopping other people from reaching out to you as well. This brings us to the fifth principle. Always network with people. If you are trying to make money out of a subject that you are very passionate about, network with other like-minded people. The more people you network with, the more you will be talked about. Running your own home business- Many individuals right now are sick of running to a daily job from 9 in the morning to 5 in the evening and so they’re seeking the best home businesses. There are numerous home businesses and the only thing that you have to do is to look around and get the correct business ideas. Running your own home business has got lots of benefits compared to working for somebody else’s business. One of the benefits is that your schedule is more flexible. This is because you get to work at whatever time that you wish and likewise in the comfort of your own home. This is really nice as you’ve time for your loved ones and friends as compared to being an employee. With a home business you are able to make as much income as you want depending on the hours that you spend in it, the effort that you put in and many other crucial factors of success. With home business, there are no bosses to follow you around and holler at you for every slight error; you become your own boss. Being your own boss means that you ought to be able to produce more and bring out high quality work. Because of the introduction of the net and websites, it is now possible to turn your passion and hobby into a very successful online home business. The point is, whatever you are good at can become a very profitable online home business! If you do decide to accomplish an online business through the Net, you are able to easily work from home without having to wake up so early to prepare, eat, dress, and go to the office. You don’t have to fret about being caught up in heavy traffic if you remain at home. Therefore, if you choose to accomplish business on the net, you’ll have more time to take care of yourself, get an awesome night’s rest and take your time. You are even able to manage your time whichever way you want it to. While you might believe that your business won’t be able to generate as much cash as your 9-5 job would, think again. You’re able to still earn as much depending upon how much time you put in. Now, your mate doesn’t have to nag you so much or quarrel with you about not being able to spend time with him or her. Your youngsters will never have to get angry at you for not playing with them. If you’re single, you’re able to spend more time with your partner, your acquaintances, or yourself and accomplish anything you wish to do. There are a lot of additional ways to bring in the cash from a home business… So do your preparation and research and see what works best for you and your interests. To your great success on your online business journey. To Get Started with Your Online Business Please Contact us HERE. We Can Help Build Your Own Online Business For Just $50! Read the full article

[yarnreader]

Book Review: Harry, a History: The True Story of a Boy Wizard, His Fans, and Life Inside the Harry Potter Phenomenon by Melissa Anelli (2/12/13)

I just finished re-reading Harry, a History: The True Story of a Boy Wizard, His Fans, and Life Inside the Harry Potter Phenomenon by Melissa Anelli. It's been a couple of years since I first read it, but it was still as great as I remembered it. Just reading Melissa's point of view of the whole series just made me wish that I could go back to that time when the books were just coming out. I just started kindergarten when the first book was published, but I wished I started them earlier then Jr High, but this book just reminded me of the nights were I stayed up reading the series and talking about them to some of my friends who were also really into the series as well. It also reminded me where I was when Deathly Hallows was finally out, I was in my first year of band camp, and when a group of my friends and I went to the mid-night screening of Deathly Hallows: Part 1, and how I cried when Dobby and Hedwig died. To read about some one's journey with Harry was a great read. I highly recommend everyone to read both this book and the Harry Potter series. I know you'll love both as I do.

[cordensangels131]

Harry, A History by Melissa Anelli: read by Renee Raudman

The True Story of a Boy Wizard, His Fans, and Life Inside the Harry Potter Phenomenon

Let’s be honest, I looked at this book because the title caught my eye. Sadly, it wasn’t the true story of Harry Styles but of another, equally famous Harry. That fandom isn’t unlike stories I’ve heard of the 1D fandom. I knew who they were but it was MITAM that sucked me down the rabbit hole of Dodgeball and Carpool Karaoke and endless videos of X Factor and 1D Day. The Potter fandom has ships, leaks and squabbles. It’s an interesting look at the overwhelming nature of fame. Not unlike the boys, the fervor for the books eventually prevented the author from participating in certain events over concerns for fan safety. Fan fiction and ships were prevalent as well as websites, fan forums, tribute bands and podcasts. It was interesting to hear it all told from an insider’s perspective and I’d love for someone (a fan who understands fandoms, not a snarky journalist who doesn’t take the time to learn and who calls all One Direction fans 10 ye old girls) to write a book about the 1D phenomenon. This was a fascinating book and if you love Harry Potter or fandoms give it a try.

[lunalovegood2]

She wasn't reading Deathly Hallows at all. Her book wasn't orange but rose and water and sand, and featured a kid on a broomstick and white unicorn. Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. She didn't notice me staring at her. 'Oh, I envy you,' I thought, but was smiling for her. She had just begun.

 Melissa Anelli, Harry, a History: The True Story of a Boy Wizard, His Fans, and Life Inside the Harry Potter Phenomenon 

[juxikenu617728-blog]

history of audiobooks : Harry, a History by Melissa Anelli | History

Listen to Harry, a History new releases history of audiobooks on your iPhone, iPad, or Android. Get any BOOK by Melissa Anelli History FREE during your Free Trial

Written By: Melissa Anelli Narrated By: Renée Raudman Publisher: Tantor Media Date: March 2009 Duration: 11 hours 0 minutes

[darkpetal16]

The Bucket List: Ambiguous Morals

A/N The other HP fanfiction that I might choose to finish once I wrap up a couple more of my stories. This one does feature a reincarnated student, and a very heavily morally gray OC. 

Reborn as Harry’s twin sister at the start of his story means a completely fun, and relaxing life.

Not.

Genre: Adventure / Fantasy

Rating: T (involves breaking the laws, and child endangerment) 

For the longest time all I felt was pain. There was no singular thought, no coherent feeling. Only pain. I felt it all throughout my body, and yet I felt like I had no body. I was flattened; spread out and steamrolled over repeatedly. The pain was unlike any I had ever experienced, and when I was finally given a relief I wanted to sob with gratitude.

The relief, unfortunately, was painfully brief.

And then the pain started again, but this time it was focused on my head. The worst possible migraine in history, I believed. Nothing - absolutely nothing - could be compared to that pain.

My body felt loose, wobbly, and utterly helpless. I had little to no motor control, and I could do nothing but cry and cry. At times I felt a rush of cold and the pain vanished instantly, but it only lasted for a minute, or two.

And then, one day, the pain abruptly stopped.

I woke up.

My eyes stared at the painted ceiling of the night sky. Stars twinkled, and I saw a comet shoot across the sky. There was a single waning moon to the far right corner, and when I turned my head to look at it, I realized that I was surrounded by wood bars on all sides of me. Confusion entered my mind, as I struggled to understand why I would be in a cage without a ceiling.

After another moment of staring at the bars, I began to look around and I realized how proportionately large (and blurry) all the furniture were around me.

I was inside a child’s room.

A… a baby’s room.

Fear, with more bewilderment, shot through me and adrenaline forced my body into action. I flailed around, unable to find the strength to do more than roll a little to the left and right. I looked down in horror at my tiny, chubby hands that I knew were not mine. The hands before me were pale and pink, and most certainly too tiny to belong to any adult. My arms were covered in fat, and stubby. I was wearing some kind of footie pajamas.

Impossible.

Impossible.

I tried to think back on my previous actions. I tried, desperately, to remember past the pain.

My head throbbed sharply for second, causing my brow to furrow as I winced.

Then I remembered.

I died.

I died. I know I did. There was no possible way for me to have survived what had happened. I was in my third year of medical school, I knew it was impossible for me to have survived. I remembered thinking how utterly disappointed I was about my life as my heart stopped beating and I could no longer breathe.

Then pain.

So how was I here?

I died - but now I’m alive?

I was -

I mean.

I was reborn?

How?

Why?

I was no one special. I was a groomed child who did everything right. I wasn’t mean to anyone. I had no grudges. I went to prep school, boarding school, absolutely everything my high-powered lawyer mother had me do. After graduating from high school with many university classes under my belt already, I tested in early to medical school and did everything expected of me. I studied. I pulled all nighters for the longer shifts at a chance for more experience. I practiced my sutures religiously.

I did everything right, so why do I have to go through it all again?

I didn’t want that. That would be a special kind of hell if I had to do it all again.

Wasn’t death supposed to be the end?

“Rosie?”

My gaze turned towards the front door of the room as the door slowly creaked open. A woman entered with startlingly bright green eyes and a halo of dark red hair. She approached me, her gaze warm and loving as she looked at me. There was a hopeful light in her eyes and her lips slowly upturned. “Rosie? Are you feeling better, sweetie?”

I didn’t know what to say. Hesitantly, I reached towards her, stretching my tiny fingers up in the sky.

Her eyes watered, and she swooped down and picked me up with ease. “Oh. Oh, my sweet little flower. Is the pain gone? James! James!”

Then a man appeared at the door way as the woman held me close and began to kiss my forehead and cheek. James, I assumed, had shaggy dark hair and deep blue eyes behind round glasses. A strong sense of familiarity hit me upon seeing him.

In his arms was a baby - perhaps three weeks, I would guess - who was sound asleep. “Lily? What’s - Rosie isn’t crying anymore?”

Lily was crying quietly by that point, kissing me over and over. “She’s safe now. She didn’t hit the one-month mark. Her magic finally stopped building in her head.”

Magic? Wait… Lily? James?

No way.

James choked back a sob as he stepped towards us and - and placed the baby in his arms in the middle of the air.

I stared in shock at the floating baby before James pulled us both into his arms and began to kiss Lily and I each on our cheeks. “I knew she would be okay. I knew it. Our little rose is as tough as they come.”

“Yes, love. Oh, Rosie Lily Potter you had us so worried.”

Rosie Lily Potter.

Potter.

Lily and James Potter.

So, in addition to being reborn, I was reborn as the daughter of Lily and James Potter. Likely twin sister to Harry James Potter, protagonist of Harry Potter.

Death is the next great adventure.

About a week later, I had mostly everything figured out. I had died and been reborn as the fraternal twin sister to Harry. I was (by that point) a month old.

Typically, a month old child would not be able to remember sentences, let alone an entire past life.

It would appear that all that pain I had felt after Lily gave birth to me was my brain having repeated aneurysms and the magic inside of the body constantly fixing it. My tiny brain was forced into rapid development to accommodate all of the memories and knowledge I possessed. In a typical sense, that would be impossible.

But in a magical sense, it was apparently entirely possible. The doctors had told Lily and James that my magic was building up inside of my head, and if it didn’t relieve within a month, they would be forced to cripple my magical core and turn me near-squib, or I would become brain dead. The phenomenon was called Death’s Kiss. It occurred in newborn magical infants, with a fatality rate of eighty percent, squib rate of fifteen percent, and everything becoming a-okay five percent.

The sheer luck I had was unprecedented. Not only was I reborn into my all time favorite series, but I survived the process, and I got to be Harry’s sister.

I could not have asked for a better “next adventure.”

How many times had I dreamed about being able to effect the Potterverse? And here I was with the greatest opportunity of lifetimes.

I was not going to mess this up.

I had a bucket list. And I would complete it before I was forced onto the next great adventure.

Lily was a wonderful mother. Although, she clearly was new, and at times seemed at lost with how to ease Harry’s cries. My darling baby brother (even if he was born ahead of me, given my true age he would always be my baby brother now) cried easily, like all newborns. He couldn’t yet sleep throughout the night and if for an instant he was left alone in the room, he would ball hysterically.

Lily did her best, though, and James tried valiantly to help. Lily would rock her son, while murmuring sweet nothings, while James would do odd bits of tricks to coax a smile or laugh. It was endearing to watch, and I felt incredibly affectionate towards the duo.

While they loved Harry, they never ignored me or showed favors between the two. The young couple showered us with love and attention in between every moment they could spare. When Lily wasn’t attending to us, she was working on complex and alien-looking schematics. James, though, would try to fix non existent problems around the house.

It wasn’t hard to surmise that we were already under the fidelius charm, with Peter as our secret keeper.

The thought made me sick. Peter was easily one of the most hated characters in the fandom. His slimy nature on top of his betrayal was simply unforgivable. I wished I could voice my thoughts, but what could I do? I barely had control over my own body; and there was simply no way they would believe me when I said that Peter would betray them. I could try to tell them I “dreamed” about Peter betraying us, but I knew in my heart that would never work.

Still, I would try. I had to at least try. When I was old enough to say words without drawing suspicion, I would tell them I dreamed of a “scary man” following “a rat” to us. That the rat opened the door to our home and the bad man came in. I couldn’t get more obvious than that short of telling them all I read about everything to come from a book.

That could have dire consequences that I didn’t understand.

But, that was still a solid four months (if I wanted to push it) to five months (to be safe) away. For now, it was watching the world around me, learning to control my body, and trying to get a hold of the magic inside of me.

I always thought, you know, that it would be painfully obvious I had magic inside of me if I was ever magical. Considering I had no magic in my first life, I thought for sure I would be able to notice the distinct difference between the bodies. Alas, the difference was not obvious enough I could easily detect it. In fact, the magic inside of me was so “quiet” I had to strain and focus for nearly an hour before I could properly feel it. I hoped that in time that would be easier (both from practice, and that my magic would grow alongside my physical body).

Only time would tell, though.

There was a crackle of fire, and whoosh of green flames before Sirius Black stepped into our living room. I raised my head up from where I sat in the playpen in the living room. Harry was snoring quietly on a pillow beside me, clutching onto a patchy stuffed deer. I had been playing with soft cubes for the past hour or so, attempting to force my fingers to pick them up and move them over, and over, in hopes of obtaining my previous life’s dexterity as soon as possible.

Lily looked up from her pages of work - she nearly covered half the living room floor with her pages and floating books. A smile lit up her face. “Sirius!”

“The one and only,” Sirius said with a grin and a gleam in his eyes. “How’s my favorite newly mother?”

Lily laughed. “I’m fine. James is upstairs if you want to see him.”

I squealed out loud.

Sirius turned his head, and his gaze widened. “Little Rosie isn’t crying anymore?”

Lily beamed, levitating herself up so she could stand up and hop over her papers. “No. Everything is fine now. She hasn’t cried all week.”

I squealed again, reaching up my hands, trying to grab the attention of one of my favorite - ah, can’t really say character anymore, could I? - person ever. Sirius’s smile stretched widely over his face and he hurried over to me to pick me up. Large hands grasped me and swung me up high. “Look at you, Rosie! Look like a little princess in that dress.”

I giggled with delight, reaching out towards his face and patting his cheek. Lily smiled at the two of us, reaching over and tucking behind a strand of dark red hair behind my ear.

“She looks exactly like you, Lily,” Sirius said, readjusting me in his arms. “Got your hair, eyes, nose, mouth - mirror image.”

“She has James’s curls,” Lily corrected.

Sirius patted the top of my head, running his fingers through my unruly hair. “That she does. She’ll be beautiful.”

The thought made me laugh. Beauty was something I had never associated with myself. Scrubs and dark circles were all I could see myself with for the past three years of my life. Even with gorgeous parents such as Lily and James, I still couldn’t imagine myself as one of the pretty girls in school. It would be neat if that happened, but I certainly wouldn’t hold out hope.

“She’ll be the most beautiful girl in the whole world,” Lily bragged, kissing my forehead.

“James and I are going to have to beat the boys away, huh,” Sirius joked.

“Or girls.”

“Or girls,” Sirius corrected.

“Padfoot?”

James’s voice drew our attention towards the stairs where he hopped off the last stepped and beamed at his best friend.

Sirius grinned. “Prongs! Been too long.”

Sirius handed me to Lily in order to man-hug James, the two men laughing and already starting to whisper mischievously to each other. Lily rolled her eyes. “You’ll have to help me keep them in line, Rosie.”

I patted her cheek. That would be an impossibility.

At five months old I had finally achieved control over my body. I still lacked the strength and stamina to do many things, but I was greatly relieved that I wasn’t quite so helpless. Since I had reached the standard age (albeit a month early) for most children to start speaking, I decided to begin talking.

It was getting dreadfully boring squealing, pointing, and crying to communicate. Although, I had to hand it to Lily, James, and Sirius for picking up on my cues relatively quickly. Sirius came by about once a week when he could. He only stayed a handful of hours - enough to play with Harry and me, and update the Potters on the warfront. I had yet to see Peter, thankfully. I wasn’t sure I would be able to not scream in rage at him for what he would do to this loving family.

And it was a loving family. It was absolutely nothing like my previous homelife. I felt no obligation, or expectation placed upon me. Lily and James were doting parents, and tried their best to keep us happy in an obviously dark time. It was admirable, and it made my heart ache even more so at how Peter would betray them.

I would do my best, though. I had to let them know without giving on how much I knew. I had no idea what would happen if someone else got their hands on all of my knowledge, so I had to be absolutely careful to not overtly give anything away.

Oh, and of course study Occlumency as soon as I was able. I was certain I would be able to have quick grasp on it, since I already had the self-discipline from my past life instilled in me.

I played with Harry’s hair in our playpen. Harry’s bright green eyes lit up while he tried to fit a cube into a circle. His hair was soft, fluffy, and bounced back up when I patted it down. Harry enjoyed having his hair played with, and we quickly found that it soothed him when he cried.

Lily was preparing dinner for us (plus Sirius), with James’s help. She waved her wand, and potatoes began to peel themselves before being placed into a  boiling cauldron. James, meanwhile, was mixing a cake batter (who knew he loved to baked?) while telling Sirius to “watch his damn language”.

My stomach rumbled, and I stood up from the playpen. I leaned heavily onto the red gate, watching the trio of adults. I cleared my throat and then said (squealed more like), “Mama!”

Everything froze. All adults turned towards the playpen, and Lily’s face morphed into sheer excitement. “Rosie?!”

“Mama!”

Lily screamed, leaping up into the air and then shooting across the room towards me. “Rosie! Did you say Mama?”

“Mama! Papa!”

James dropped his bowl of mix, his face bright as can be as he ran towards us. Lily picked me up into the air, twirling me around before James then picked both of us up. I repeated their titles in a chant, warm feeling of happiness bubbling inside of me that I could make such wonderful people so happy. When the spinning was done, James picked up Harry and ruffled his hair. “We have the brightest kids.”

“Papa hungry.”

“Look at that,” Lily exclaimed. “Her first words and sentence! She’s so early - so bright!”

Pretty sure this constitutes as cheating, but the compliment is still appreciated.

“Let’s feed the pups, then,” Sirius said, giving me a wink. He had cleaned up the mess in the kitchen during the commotion.

“Paddy!” I declared, pointing at Sirius.

Our godfather gave us a splitting grin and eagerly stole me from Lily’s arms; she whipped out her wand and threatened to hex him into tomorrow if he didn’t give me back, but he danced around the house and essentially played monkey in the middle (Lily in the middle, and I as the ball) with James. Harry squealed with delight, watching the game and sparks of magic around the house.

By the time it was done, dinner was well over burned and they had to start again, but nothing was able to shake the smile on their faces for the rest of the evening.

The next night, when Harry woke up screaming, I screamed alongside of him. It wasn’t hard to coax tears out - the hormones in my body were as powerful as puberty - and when the parents came to the bedroom Lily picked up her soon and began to rock and calm him while James picked me up and rubbed my back.

“Shh, shh,” Lily soothed. “It’s okay Harry, Mama’s here.”

James began to rock me in place. “It’s okay now, Rosie. It’s okay.”

“Rat,” I hiccuped. “Bad. Bad rat.”

James kissed the top of my head. “Bad rat?”

“Bad rat. Bring bad man.”

“The bad rat brings the bad man?” Lily murmured, taking Harry over to the changing table.

James kissed me again. “There, there, Rosie. There are no bad rats. You’re safe.”

“Bad rat brings bad man.”

“Do you think - ?”

“Of course not, Lily,” James exclaimed. “It’s simply a bad dream. The doctor told us she could have recurring bad dreams after recovering from Death’s Kiss. They’ll go away in a month, or so.”

Wait, what?

Shit.

Every night Harry woke up crying, I would cry alongside him and tell them about the bad dream. With stubbornness only a wizard could possess, James continuously dismissed the dream and reassured Lily it meant nothing. After a month passed and I continued to have the dream, James became a bit more hesitant.

The next time Sirius came by, he carried armfuls of books. I wasn’t able to see the titles, but James and Lily became engrossed in them for three days.

Upon emerging from their readings, they both looked immensely relieved.

My next nightmare of Peter betraying them, and they had me drink an odd white potion that bubbled down my throat.

Again, and again it happened. They never mentioned thinking for an instant they believed my dreams. As time went on, I got a bit more elaborate in my dreams, describing Peter as best as I could, but they never faltered.

(Later on, I would learn they would discover that children affected by Death’s Kiss were plagued by worse-case-scenario nightmares. They picked up on the worst possible outcome that could occur every night and for many years they would dream about it. It happened less than one percent of the time, but given that I was already in the five percent margin for surviving Death’s Kiss without being turned squib, they figured I was in the one percent, too. So no matter what I said, what I described, they would only ever view it as a dream and force-feed me a dreamless draught.)

I was fearful of what was to come. I wished Dumbledore would come by, but he never did. I even tried to drop hints that I needed to see him (I dreamed about him coming by, and that it made me “very happy”), but nothing worked.

Short of telling them the absolute truth, I was running out of ideas.

As we neared our one-year birthday, my mind was becoming more, and more flustered. My magic lashed out accordingly, and Lily and James were forced to put me to sleep frequently so I didn’t accidentally hurt myself or Harry.

I feared I wouldn’t be able to save them.

But, I had to keep trying.

On our one year old birthday, Harry woke up first with an excited squeal. He was levitating in his bed, slowly drifting up towards the ceiling from a burst of accidental magic.

It brought a smile on my face to see my brother so happy in the morning. He didn’t have a lot of accidents with magic, unlike me, but when he did it usually revolved around levitating or summoning items to him.

My bursts had died down the couple weeks leading up to the birthday, as I was able to get a very vague hold on them. Thankfully, I could sense my magic a lot easier after months of practice, but it was far from perfect. I still couldn’t command it to do as I wished, but that was to be expected. Apparently witches and wizards developed their magic up until the age of ten rapidly. Their magic would steadily grow, along with spurts of significant growth spurts that caused the magic to lash out. It was why children did not attend magical school until ten, because their magic would be unreliable until it leveled out in its growth. There were instances where people had bursts throughout puberty, as well, but nowhere near as common as childhood.

Magic during childhood was unreliable. It struggled to fit inside the growing body, and fought to stay calm. At times, it really seemed like it had a mind of its own. The only thing in tune with its desire, and my desire, was to keep the physical body safe and healthy.

But, I was stubborn.

If I wanted to do the things I wanted to do, I would need a hold on my magic sooner than ten years old.

So, every night after Lily and James tucked me in and fed me a dreamless potion, I laid in bed and tried to call forth my magic.

I tried to bring it towards my hand and push enough of it out of my body to see it. It took nearly an hour every night (sometimes two, if unlucky), but I had faith that dedicated practice would fruit success.

James was the first to enter our bedroom, laughing at seeing his son floating in the air.

Harry clapped his hands. “Papa!”

James reached up and plucked Harry from the air. “Morning, Harry. Happy birthday!”

“Happy birthday, Harry,” I chirped.

James waved his right hand towards me and I felt the tug of his magic. I floated out of my crib and into James’s right arm. Harry, in his left, reached towards me and hugged me. I kissed his cheek.

“Happy birthday, Rosie,” James told me.

“Happy birthday,” I echoed, patting Harry’s cheek. “Cake?”

“Later,” James promised me. “How about we head downstairs? Paddy is here!”

“Paddy!” I squealed with delight.

James carried us down stairs, and we found the living room to be lovingly decorated with banners, posters, pictures, and presents. A shaggy black dog laid on the carpet in the middle, his belly up in the air. I screamed with joy, squirming to play with Sirius in his animagus form. James laughed and sat me down on the living room floor, and then headed to the kitchen with Harry to work on our birthday cake.

My tiny toddler legs moved as quickly as I could towards the happy dog who playfully growled at me. I leapt onto his belly, hearing the soft umph from him before Sirius rolled over and grabbed my the back of my shirt before tossing me up into the air. I felt his magic coil around me, levitating me in the air before gently lowering me down. I fell onto the soft carpet onto my bum before scrambling to stand back up and proceed to chase Sirius around the carpet.

He would playfully catch me again, and again, tossing me into the air and then levitating me down.

It was an absolute delight, and I relished it.

I hadn’t gotten around to writing out James / Lily’s death. For the most part it follows canon, but when Sirius attempts to give Rosie and Harry to Hagrid Rosie throws a massive fit. She uses her magic to stick to Sirius with such stubborness Sirius ends up having to go with her to Dumbledore instead of confronting Peter. This results in Sirisu never getting sent to prison, Peter marked as the traitor, and Sirius taking guardianship over Harry and Rosie. However, Dumbledore is insistent that they live out of society, for their safety. 

The following scenes are life for the quiet family, and are pretty choppy. 

Sirius sighed quietly, and Remus poured each of them a glass of firewhiskey. I hugged my blanket around me, as I sat on the top step and peered through the railing into the living room below. The two friends sat on the couch, Sirius looking over an official-looking parchment and muttering. “Why? Why would she do this?”

“Who can say,” Remus murmured, taking a shot. “What are you going to do?”

“What can be done? I’m Lord Black now, now that that bitch died,” Sirius grumbled, then snorted. “The family I tried so desperately to escape, and now that title is bonded to me until death. That spiteful bitch.”

Remus patted Sirius on the shoulder as Sirius took another shot - that was his four that I had seen. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Not a lot can be done. Want an estate?” Remus gave Sirius a weary look. “No, thanks.”

Sirius winced. “If I leave it to rot, as an official Lord, I’ll be charged fees for abandoning a Noble and Ancient home. I can’t move the kids there, shit’s filled with dark magic.”

“Won’t Kreacher be able to maintain it?”

“That bastard is too old. I would have to purchase another House Elf to help him, at the very least.”

An idea popped in my head. “Paddy? Moony?”

Both adults turned up towards the staircase, and Remus stood up. “Rosie? What are you doing up?”

“I don’t sleep well sometimes,” I said, squeezing through the bars on the stair and tumbling into the air. Sirius immediately cast a slow-falling charm on me, and then levitated me over towards them. He caught me and placed me in his lap.

“We should get you to bed, though.”

“But, I have an idea,” I protested.

The adults chuckled at the idea of a three year old having an idea that would be prudent to their predicament.

“Bring Kreacher here,” I said.

Sirius shook his head. “He’s not someone to have around kids.”

“Bring Kreacher here,” I repeated stubbornly, “and hire a new elf to clean the old place. It’s filled with Dark, right? We might need some of those stuff later. I bet Grandpa would agree.”

Remus’s brow furrowed. “Did this come from one of your dreams, Rosie?”

“Yes,” I lied. “I dreamed about Kreacher being here. We will need him. He is a good boy.”

Sirius grimaced. “I don’t know - ”

“Sirius, remember what Dumbledore said - ”

What did Dumbledore say?

“Yeah, I - ”

“Would it hurt to try?”

A sigh. “No.”

“Kreacher?” I called out, sitting up in my bed.

Kreacher appeared in my room with a snap, tired yellow eyes glaring hatefully at me. “How can I help the young mistress?”

“Regulus’s locket.”

The elf froze, his eyes widening. “What?”

“The locket he told you to destroy - it’s very special. It can only be destroyed through basilisk venom, a dementor’s kiss, or fiendfyre. Understand?”

Kreacher gaped at me. “Y-Yes.”

“Will you be able to destroy it now?” I asked him. “Give me an honest answer.”

“Yes,” Kreacher said.

“Good. Go do it.”

And he was gone.

EMPs were not overtly difficult to make. Anyone could make them, really. They required lithium batteries, wires, soldering experience, and time. After confirming, and reaffirming, that I could use technology under the wards (but at the very edge, and not inside the heavily magicked house), I set about at creating a makeshift treehouse to use as my workshop. I needed a safe place to create several dozen EMPs for the first step of my plan.

Plus I always wanted a treehouse.

It didn’t take much asking for Sirius to get some wood and make a treehouse for me within a day. It did take a little arguing on my part for him to not put any enchantments inside of the treehouse, but he relented soon enough.

It was a small, cute little thing. He built a ladder into the large oak tree, and put together a small house-looking abode. It was big enough to accommodate children, but once I hit puberty I would have to squat and crawl around to get around the room. He put in a couple tables, and we brought out an abundance of blankets and pillows and anti-flame-spreading candles.

Harry adored the treehouse, and he frequently went up there to read his beloved books. Sirius, thankfully, consented to our rule that no adults would be allowed inside of the tree house, and when the two of us went up, he would pull out the radio and sit outside listening to our laughter, and the music. Despite being a man child, Sirius was at loathe to let us out of his sight completely.

After obtaining the treehouse, I had to get the supplies to create an EMP. The hardware store had everything I needed, and thankfully Kreacher was more than capable of obtaining the items discreetly and dropping them off in my treehouse. I also had Kreacher pick up leather gloves, as a precaution against forensic evidence.

Then, it was time to create.

I headed up into the treehouse in the early morning, Harry quietly following behind me and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

He had another nightmare, that night, and had crawled into my bed. I didn’t particularly want him to see what I was making, but it wasn’t such a big deal that I felt the need to hide it. Harry was good at keeping secrets, and if I asked him not to tell anyone else, he wouldn’t.

We crawled into the treehouse, and the candles flickered alive upon us entering. Harry immediately went towards his corner of pillows and blankets and flopped down. I pulled up a tiny chair to the bench, and dumped out the supplies from the first bag Kreacher placed upon the bench. I rummaged through everything before I pulled out the soldering gun, and numerous battery packs. I would need to use quite a few of the batteries to power the soldering gun, since we had no electrical outlets.

I set to work creating the first EMP. The process took nearly two and a half hours (because I had to be meticulous, and double check everything. It would become faster after practice, but for now it was slow-going.

Harry stopped reading his book after I finished the first EMP and looked over at what I created. “What’s that, Rosie?”

“Secret,” I told him. “Can you keep it secret?”

“Yeah,” Harry said firmly, nodding his head as his eyes grew wide. “What is it?”

“An EMP. It disrupts electricity.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s what Muggles use in place of magic.”

“Why do you need that?”

“To help keep the stature of secrecy.”

“Why?”

I turned around and pinched his nose. “Ask me when you’re older.”

Harry’s nose crinkled in distaste, but he did not ask further. He always was such a good boy.

“Kids?” We popped our heads out of the treehouse’s window as Sirius stepped outside the backdoor.

Harry grinned and waved. “Up here, Uncle Paddy!”

Sirius waved back, smiling at us. “Want some breakfast?” Harry nodded eagerly and dropped down the tree house hole onto the thick grass below.

I didn’t need the EMPs. All I needed was the cloak of invisibility, a broom, the spells Wingardium Leviosa, Silencio, and Alohomora down pat. I had spent the past three years perfecting the past three spells to the best of my ability. I could perform them without the wand, but it took great concentration, and unfortunately I still needed to speak them.

The EMPs were to provide an explanation as to why the security cameras didn’t work. I would activate the EMPs when I reached the goal, and in the thirty seconds it took for security to notice the error and call the police, I would levitate as many of the items I could under the cloak and into the expandable pouch.

With the camera’s down, they wouldn’t see the levitations, and the statue of secrecy wouldn’t be overtly violated. While they swarmed the place, I would hide in a corner on my broom under the cloak. Even if Aurors came, the cloak was far too powerful and would hide me from them. Then, I would make my escape and return home.

I had to place the EMPs around the museum - even in parts that I wouldn’t go to - and set the timer on them to trigger in ten minutes after placing them.

It wasn’t a lot of them, but I figured this would have to be fast.

If all else failed, I had the emergency portkey Sirius gave each of us. I hoped not to use it - because it was a one-time use, and explaining to Sirius why I had to use a portkey would be tricky. But, it was there.

I descended upon the V&A museum in London, adrenaline and anxiety chorusing through me.

A part of me was thrilled - I was a thief! I was stealing! Like from Skyrim, or GTA.

In my previous life, I would have never considered it. I hadn’t even shoplifted before, yet here I was about to commit numerous illegal acts for the sake of a plan that I wasn’t even sure would work.

But, I needed the money. I needed the money and power fast if I wanted to do the things I needed to do.

I couldn’t access the Potter vault any time soon; nor was I talented enough to steal from Death Eaters (as I plan to do later).

All I had was my previous life’s knowledge of technology, and magic at my disposal.

And an undeniable urge to have no regrets this time around.

At least I could hopefully cross off Become an Art Thief off my bucket list after tonight.

I hovered before the back door of the museum before I raised my finger and went through the motions of Alohomora. It took three tries, but I finally got it and the door swung open. Then, moving as quickly as I could, I began to place the EMPs around each corner. I flew around the patrolling guards, and none of them noticed.

When I reached my goal: the crown jewelry room (filled with old royal crowns, uncut diamonds and other precious jewels, as well as antique and priceless jewels). I pulled out completely ordinary rocks from my expandable pouch, and took a deep breath.

1986: before bullet-proof glass was implemented in all museums, and perfect computer security.

My timer for the EMPs went off and I threw as many rocks as I could at the cases. I urged my broom forward, grabbing what I could and stuffing it into the expandable pouch, while levitating what was too far away towards me with my other hand. I heard shouts, as security officers sprinted through the hallways.

“Security is down! I can’t call for backup?!”

“We must have intruders, someone get the police!”

“Phones are down!”

When an officer came into the room I was in, I stopped everything, pulled the cloak tighter around me and began to make my escape. Thankfully, the EMPs worked a bit too well and the prevented the gates from coming down.

I was out the backdoor and soaring through the night sky again.

It wasn’t right, what he did. No matter how bad things got, deliberately harming children to get back at their parents was never going to the answer, nor was it forgivable. It was an awful, and cruel, thing to do.

But I could understand it.

Strictly from the psychological standpoint, at least. Shunned and forced into self-loathing isolation would permanently damage anyone’s psyche. Spending years alone, longing for acceptance but mercilessly turned away at every attempt would break even the strongest men. In addition, society itself would go out of its way to harm him for simply existing. Werewolves were the snubbed-ilk that society perpetually spat upon and conveniently looked the other way when it suited their needs. Anyone would grow bitter from that. Anyone would want justice, would want someone to know how unfair society was.

Fenrir Grayback made it his life goal to convert as many as he could, to force society to acknowledge werewolves and force them to accept them.

For someone left uneducated, alone, and consistently spurned, it was the only idea he had; the only hope he had.

So while his actions were deplorable, and unforgivable, I could understand them.

 And I detested the magical society more so for it.

I didn’t understand how I knew where to find him—didn’t understand how I knew to send the owl addressed to Fenris Gray. It was one of those odd things that floated in my mind and I had to wonder if maybe I read about it on Pottermore, or something.

I made a little basket with food, water, and basic medical supplies. I added a thick blanket because it was cold, and I knew he would be sleeping outside. Then I made a little letter:

To Fenrir,

You do not know me, and we will not meet for some time. You may call me  Enáretos, and you should know that I am on the side of the werewolves. I hope the basket helps you.

Your friend,

Enáretos

A small and simple gesture, but it was the first step I had to take. 

If I wanted to fix the prejudice in society, I had to acknoledge its mistakes and try to make it right.

There would be about a years’ worth of stealing, with Dumbledore growing suspicious. During this year the MC would continue to send care baskets to Fenrir, who would distrubute them to over werewolves on her behalf. A sense of trust is built between the two, and more of Fenrir’s backstory is explained.

At long last I had the money.

A part of me still felt a built guilty from stealing—especially from perfectly nice places—but the guilt was shoved aside in favor of how the end justified the means. I had never put my stock into that saying before, but I honestly believed my cause warranted a little flexibility with the law. I was, physically, a child. The idea of sharing my knowledge with the “adults” of the world sent me into a quivering mess that I knew I would never be able to reach out for help willingly. I could—I supposed—wait until I was physically an adult, but the idea of waiting around and letting others suffer for decades because I couldn’t handle a little rule breaking made me sick. It seemed like a pretty flimsy excuse to me, especially since I could always purchase back the items I pawned off with my Potter inheritance as an adult and give it back to the museums. Or donate their value anonymously.

Returning to the point, however.

I had the money.

Using Enáretos I purchased a large stretch of land—nearly a thousand acres of land—and began to put well over half my sum of money into putting up defenses, and building empty homes and shops inside of it. I hired people to build large concrete walls with barbed wires to discourage muggles from trying to enter, and I ordered them to pave roads and plant trees. I ordered the construction of several dozen greenhouses, and hired a handful of magical herbologists to begin growing the ingredients necessary for wolfsbane potion. I hired Gringotts to put up the best wards money could buy—and boy did they cost me a pretty sum, but I hoped it would be worth it.

The whole project would take a year, which would give me time to bribe the officials and press in preparation of what was to come.

I only hoped it would work.

The first party I bribed was one of the neutral parties, led by Lord Greengrass. They sat square in the middle of most of the debates, barely swaying to either side unless it benefited them directly. I sent them pretty things, and dangerous things. I sent Lord Greengrass precious gems I had personally stolen, and I knew his daughters would adore them. The party treated my bribes with no obvious response, likely waiting to see what I wanted from them. Through letters as Enáretos I only hinted at wanting to build a sanctuary for several months. It wasn’t until the leader of the party himself asked me directly what I wanted that I answered with care.

A sanctuary for werewolves.

I would pay for it, provide security for it, and handle the distribution of wolfsbane. It didn’t need to cost their party a dime, and it would do nothing to harm them to support me. The party didn’t care for what was right or wrong, they only cared about self-serving, and their families. So I painted them pretty words of how it would put their families at ease if all the werewolves were kept in a safe place, and not forced to run wild and risk random attack. I waxed gentle pictures of how my sanctuary could—in a few years of production—turn into Britain’s largest provider of rare herbs, and save Ministry a small fortune in having to important.

I told them I would consider it a favor if they supported its construction.

And after a total of nine months of bribing, and wheedling, I had their support. Lord Greengrass even offered to be the one to put forward my proposed bill since I—Enáretos—would not be able to attend.

I accepted his offer with gracious thanks.

The next party I curried favors to was not nearly as hard to persuade. It was Madam Longbottom’s party, the more Light-Conservatives. I knew she would take offense to bribes, so I skipped straight to a long-winded debate that lasted five months. Madam Longbottom wasn’t adhered to her prejudice of werewolves, but she didn’t see the value in assisting them, either. Eventually I was able to wear her down by arguing about how it was the ethically right thing to do in a manner that made her think of her lost son.

Low-blow, I knew, but a necessary one.

Next I courted Amelia Bones and fellow law-lovers, using how practical it would be for her aurors if the werewolves lived one place; of how safer it would make the public, etc. She only took a month.

To my friend,

I’m sure you have already heard the whispers of my plan.

Yes. It is true. I hope to create a safe haven for all werewolves to live in peace. I know it will take time for me to change society to fully accept those afflicted with the curse, but in the mean time I wish to give your fellow brothers and sisters some peace. I will personally provide security for the establishment until such a time that they can provide their own law-enforcement inside. I have already set up several businesses that are more than happy to relocate and provide merchandise. I have two healers who are happy to follow their families into the sanctuary and offer their care, and one potions master—so far—who will brew the wolfsbane potion.

I know it is not the solution you want, but I hope it will provide a safe space for until the time I have fixed society.

I must thank you for your patience and belief in me, my friend. I have sent several more blankets and basic first-aid to help those you come across. Please enjoy the cookies I baked, as well.

Your friend,

Enáretos

PS: Dolores Umbridge is a viable threat to my haven. It would be helpful if she could come to understand your situation better.

To my friend,

Elena sends her thanks for the food, and my pack expresses excitement in the prospect of having a home. It feels strange to say, and had anyone else but you told me about it I would not have believed. I have scouted the land, and watched them work for a few months now. I know those wards were not cheap, and the gardens look nice.

 Have you thought of a name yet?

Your friend,

Fenris

I think Umbridge will see our view in a new light on the fifteenth.

To Rita Skeeter:

My dear, we haven’t had much chance to talk, but I thought you might want a little tidbit of juicy information. Umbrdige has been ramping up bills against werewolves for the past few months for a reason.

I think you’ll be able to find that wonderful reason if you catch her on the fifteenth this month, after the moon has risen.

Happy hunting,

Enáretos

End, for now.

By the time Hogwarts rolls around I plan to establish  Enáretos as a powerful political figure in support for equality. MC will be sorted into Slytherin with the express purpose of "saving” the house. She’ll use intimidation, bribes, and blackmail to rule over Slytherin and slowly convert others to her side. That’s the plan, at least.