#fic: committee for the disposal of dangerous creatures

[uefb]

Driving to in-laws today and we’re listening to Prisoner of Azkaban in the car. I had forgotten this committee existed, and the reminder thus inspired a Fantastic Beasts fic. (Obviously.)

Here’s the opening scene:

This started out straight-up humor, but it took on a significant amount of angst before yeeting itself straight into the interwar/WWII/Grindelwald-era of my With It’s Head Under One Wing ‘verse. I think it’s still gonna be an entertaining (and hopefully also still a little funny—I mean, their kid has a puffskein she’s attached to because it clears out the mucus from her allergies, that’s—I think—pretty objectively humorous) one-shot.

[bush-viper-cutie]

“Retrieving the Cloak” || YEAR 3 – Ch.34 (HP au)

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Day posted: 12/11/2020

Word count: 3, 071

Relationship: EVENTUAL severus X oc (slow burn)

Rating: E for everyone

Warnings: none

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

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

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Heather, Harry, Ron, and Hermione stood gaping down at Cornelius Fudge and the man they guessed was the executioner as they waited for Buckbeak’s appeal.

Fudge dabbed at his sweaty forehead with his cloak and looked around, quickly spotting Harry. “Ah! Harry! Hello there!” His eyes shifted to look at Heather. “Ah, Mrs. Heather Potter, very nice to finally meet you! Come down, come down.” He motioned them towards him.

The four of them slowly descended the stairs and stopped to his left, far away from the black-hooded man.

“Hello,” Heather whispered.

“I suspect you’ve all just had an exam?” He raised his eyebrows and waited as they nodded their heads. “I remember those. Pesky things indeed, aren’t they?”

Harry and Ron nodded as the four of them slowly took steps back. Heather could imagine what it must feel like in Harry’s head right now. First Fudge gets Harry completely off the hook for blowing up their aunt, then – unbeknownst to himself – spills painful information about their father and Sirius black, and now he was the one being sent to help execute poor Buckbeak.  

“Harry, Heather, I do want to let you know we’re doing everything in our power to catch that Sirius Black. So don’t you two worry – or at least not for much longer. He’ll be in our grasps any day now.“ He smiled at them, attempting a look of reassurance before casting his gaze out beyond the open castle doors. “Lovely day. I’ve always loved the colors in the hours before sunset… The pinks, the oranges… Ah, pity. Real pity.”

Heather did her best not to glare at him. How could he be admiring the loveliness of the day, hours before Buckbeak’s… It wasn’t right. She rolled her eyes as the Minister of Magic sighed deeply.

Fudge shook his head and looked down at Harry. “Unfortunately I’m here on an unpleasant mission for the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures. They require a witness to the execution of a mad hippogriff and I just happened to be scheduled to visit your Headmaster.”

“It won’t be unpleasant if the hippogriff gets off. Then you won’t have to witness an execution at all,” Ron said stoutly.

The man with the large blade pulled back his hood and growled lowly, running a large finger along the blade. They stepped back and headed down passed the Great Hall and behind the large columns.

Ron pounded his fists on the stone. “We’ve got to do something!”

“And fast.” Hermione looked at Harry and waited for him to say something.

Harry turned to Heather. “Any ideas? We’ve lost the cloak and there’s no way we can get it back with Snape and Filch guarding it. And if we can’t get it back, we can’t leave.”

Heather huffed and looked around, thinking. “Well… Who says Snape’s guarding it now? It’s dinner time, he must be inside eating.”

Ron smiled. “You’re right! Let’s go get it right now!” He turned and walked out from behind the column.

Heather caught his robe sleeve and stopped him just as Professor Dumbledore exited the Great Hall in front of them and met up with Fudge.

“Let us leave the unpleasantness for last.”

Fudge nodded and followed Professor Dumbledore up the Entrance Hall stairs out of sight.

“We need a plan, Ron!” They rejoined the others and Heather leaned in. “Here’s my idea. Harry, Ron, you two go into the Great Hall and sit for dinner like every night. If Snape’s not there, come out and catch up to Hermione and me.”

“And if he IS there?”

Heather sighed. “Then both of you stay and act normal. Don’t rush, or he’ll get suspicious.”

Harry frowned. “And what’ll you two do?”

“We’ll get the cloak.”

Ron scoffed. “You and Hermione?”

“Well we get in trouble the least. If we aren’t there for dinner, then we’d be studying, now wouldn’t we?” Hermione smiled at Ron’s undecipherable grumbles.

“Come on then. Dessert better be extra good.” Ron pulled Harry along with him.

Heather and Hermione headed up to the third floor, looking before every corner, careful not to get caught. They made it to the third floor undetected, walked down several corridors, and stopped at the corner before the one where the one-eyed-witch sat.

“Look over,” Heather whispered, crouching down next to Hermione.

Hermione nodded and peered around the corner, jumping back quickly. “It’s Mrs. Norris!” she hissed. “What do we do?”

Heather looked around and spotted a thin brown spider hanging from a suit of armor. “I’ll distract her and get her to chase me up the stairs as far as I can. You hide behind there and when Mrs. Norris is out of sight go to the statue and say ‘Dissendium’ to get it to open up. The cloak’s in the tunnel near the entrance, you won’t have to go far.”

Hermione nodded.

Heather looked at the spider. It was sitting still on its web when an invisible forced plucked it clean off and levitated it down to several inches above the floor. It kicked its many legs as if fighting to be let down but to no avail. Heather kept her eyes on the spider like she’d done a great many times during potions, and ever so slowly the spider moved along the air and around the corner. Heather squinted as the spider seemed to shrink as it neared Mrs. Norris.

Mrs. Norris was laying on the stone, waving her tail lazily through the dust, as the wriggling spider came into view. Instantly, Mrs. Norris’ ears perked and she was on her feet, ready to attack the creature that had crept into her line of sight.

Mrs. Norris pounced, and the spider dashed forward.

She stuck her rear in the air and wiggled, adjusting her paws ever so slightly, and pounced once more, this time going after the spider as it flew through the air and up the stairs.

Heather wiped away beads of sweat as she climbed the stairs like a crab, trying to keep out of eye sight of Mrs. Norris as she led her up, stair case after stair case. She gasped, unable to keep the spider up in the air any longer. The spider dropped, dashing quickly up the wall where Mrs. Norris caught it between her paws, pressing them closed to make sure the creature could not escape.

Heather stood and climbed the few steps up to the fifth floor and walked down the corridor towards the other set of stairs leading back down. She turned the corner and bumped into a very prickly mass.

“OH, my dear,” Professor Trelawney gripped Heather’s shoulders to stabilize herself. “You didn’t see me!”

How could she have if she’d only just turned the corner? “Sorry, Professor. I didn’t expect you there.”

“I didn’t expect myself here either, but when I Saw that today’s dessert was Blued Sugar cakes I knew it was a Sign – see they’re my favorite – ”

“Of course,” Heather interrupted and walked around her. “It’s always so fascinating how the Signs speak to us.”

“Indeed.” Professor Trelawney smiled and turned to leave, halting mid-spin. “How is your brother? He must be so upset over his exam results. So adamant about his Sight skills – ”

Heather frowned. “Why would he be upset? What did he see in the crystal ball?”

Professor Trelawney shook her head. “Poor thing kept insisting he didn’t see that hippogriff lose its head. It can be so hard to know one will never have the Gift”

“Hagrid’s appeal hasn’t happened yet. Buckbeak could get off – ”

Professor Trelawney interrupted her with a hand placed heavily on her shoulder. “Beguiling is the bliss of those unaware of time’s abounding cyclic flow of past present and future...”

Heather bit her tongue as Professor Trelawney condescendingly patted her wool wrapped chest with her bead covered hands. Heather nodded and pulled away, but Professor Trelawney’s hand stayed gripping her shoulder.

Heather looked at her and saw her small smile had dropped and she was now staring blankly at her. “Professor – Ow!” Heather reached for Professor Trelawney’s thin hand before her nails could dig into her skin any further.

“It Will Happen Tonight.”

Heather’s head snapped up as a harsh voice escaped from Professor Trelawney’s lips. “What?”

Professor Trelawney’s eyes started to roll as her grip on Heather’s shoulder increased. She jerked her head back and stretched her neck out before snapping back to look at Heather who was stuck horrified to her spot.

She spoke again in the same raspy voice as before. “The Dark Lord Lies Alone And Friendless, Abandoned By His Followers. His Servant Has Been Chained These Twelve Years. Tonight, Before Midnight . . . The Servant Will Break Free And Set Out To Rejoin His Master. The Dark Lord Will Rise Again With His Servant’s Aid, Greater And More Terrible Than Ever Before. Tonight . . . Before Midnight . . . The Servant . . . Will Set Out . . . To Rejoin . . . His . . . Master . . .”

Heather kept holding her breath, unsure if she was finished.

Professor Trelawney stood still for several more seconds before suddenly sneezing into her wooly shawl. “The dust in this castle –  ” She looked at Heather as if just noticing her. “My dear… you look ill.”

“I-I think… you were-you were in the Beyond and – ”

She laughed and finally let go of Heather’s shoulder. “I would know if I was in the Beyond, dear girl. It is not something one blinks into,” she laughed. “Now… I must get to those cakes.” She turned and shuffled around the corner.

Heather massaged her shoulder as she walked down the stairs and did her best to keep from trembling violently.

The Dark Lord will rise again? Voldemort? His servant… “Sirius Black,” she whispered. Sirius Black will get back to Voldemort tonight! Heather’s eyes widened. She bolted down the stairs and ran to Professor Lupin’s classroom door.

“Professor!” She smacked the door with her open hand. “Professor Lupin! Please!”

After a minute, the door creaked open and Professor Lupin’s darkened eyes look down at her. “Heather? What is it?”

“May I enter? There’s something very import – ”

“I’m not feeling well – ”

“Please!” Heather stood, catching her breath as Professor Lupin looked at the state of her.

He opened the door further and stepped aside. Heather marched inside and noticed it was not just the classroom that was shrouded in darkness. Not a single candle could be seen beyond his open office door, not even the fireplace.

She turned and watched as he lit several candles in the back. He looked sickly gray in the candlelight, with sunken eyes and clothes that seemed to hang off his shoulders.

He watched her take him in and sighed through his nose. “How can I help?”

She looked away and calmed herself before speaking. “Sirius black is going to go back to Voldemort – ”

“Don’t use – ”

“Tonight!” she finished. “That’s why it’s been so calm here! That’s why they haven’t caught him yet!”

He put his hands up. “Heather – ”

“No, listen – He’s been tricking the Ministry! They’re looking for him here because of the attacks but that only allowed him to freely search for the Dark Lord! And he’ll find him tonight!”

“Heather – Heather – Where are you pulling this from?” He dropped his hands and smirked. “The Dark Lord’s dead and gone thanks to Harry – and you of course.”

“But Professor Trelawney – ”

“Ah.” He pressed a weak finger to his smile. “Heather. I can assure you she can’t See much farther than the end of her nose. She – she told me to practice tighter embraces to avoid death. I’d call her unhinged if I didn’t suspect she puts on the theatrics in order to stay cooped up in that stuffy nest of hers.”

Heather looked down at her hands, taking in what he was saying. She supposed, being a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Lupin would know how truly likely it all was. He didn’t seem the least bit concerned. Perhaps Sirius Black really wasn’t half way across the continent and was instead just waiting in the shadows nearby, ready to strike. Was that better?

She sighed and looked up. “I suppose… You could be right.”

“I am.” He smiled. “Now, I think I should get back to grading.”

Heather nodded and walked out of the classroom, hearing the door close shut behind her. She stopped at a stone bench and sat, closing her eyes shut. Professor Lupin was right. Professor Trelawney was a kook and no amount of Grims or Dark Lords could prove otherwise.

She headed down to the Great Hall and saw Hermione had joined Harry and Ron. Heather sat at the very end of the Slytherin table next to some second-years and ate the Blued Sugar cakes in silence, trying to calm her racing thoughts.

As the Blued Sugar cakes were emptied from their platters, house after house left the Great Hall and headed to their houses. Heather kept her eyes on Harry and followed several steps behind into a deserted chamber off the Entrance Hall.

The four of them waited in silence as the last few footsteps could be heard and a door slammed shut in the distance.

“Let’s go,” Harry whispered.

They all ducked under the cloak, awkwardly shuffled out of the room, waddled across the hall, squeezed through the entrance doors, and tiptoed down the stone stairs onto the grounds. They kept the cloak on the whole way, as the sun was only starting to dip beyond the tree line and they would be perfectly visible on the grassy hills without it.

They reached Hagrid’s hut and knocked under the cloak, hoping Fudge wasn’t there yet. He was a few minutes in answering, and eventually poked his red puffy face out and sighed, knowing full well what was going on.

“It’s us!” Harry hissed.

“I know. An’ I told yeh not to come!” He stood back and let them through.

Hagrid shut the door quickly and they threw off the cloak. He wasn’t crying, nor was he trembling or throwing himself onto Harry and Ron. He looked given up and hopeless, which was far, far worse to see than tears and snot.

“Oh Hagrid… Where’s Buckbeak?” Hermione asked, looking around.

“Took him out behind. Tethered him tuh me pumpkin patch so he can enjoy the trees an’ sky b… before – ” He fell onto one of his chairs and reached a trembling hand for his jug of milk, shaking it so violently it spilled on the table on its way to his lips.

Hermione pulled a rag from a drawer and started cleaning up the spilled milk. “It’s alright Hagrid, the appeal – ”

“It won’t matter.” Hagrid dropped his head to his chest and squeezed his eyes with his fingers.

Ron shook his head and shooked Hagrid’s arm. “That’s not true! We heard Dumbledore and it seemed he would join them when they came down! Dumbledore would help you – they HAVE to listen to him – ”

“Dumbledore’s got no power ter overrule the Committee. Malfoy’s set their minds. Threatened them good. The executioner, Macnair? He’s an old pal o’ Malfoy’s…” Hagrid sniffed. “It’ll be clean though… Quick… an’ I’ll be righ’ there next tuh Beaky…” Hagrid swallowed. “Dumbledore wrote to me… he’s coming down ter be with me while – while it happens… Great man, Dumbledore… I even prepared a long speech fer the appeal to – to give Beaky more time.” He blinked quickly and looked around at the ceiling.

“We’ll stay too,” Hermione sobbed.

“No, no.” Hagrid shook his woolly hair. “Yur to go back up tur the castle. I’m not lettin’ yeh watch… not even fer me. An’ yeh shouldn’t be down ‘ere anyway… Harry, Heather, yeh’ll both be in big trouble if Fudge an’ Dumbledore catch yeh – an’ all of yeh – out without permission. ESPECIALLY this close before nightfall.”

Ron wiped away his tears and Harry sniffed. Heather hugged the silvery cloak tight and looked at Hermione who was trying her best to keep from breaking down crying.

“I-I’ll make us some tea and then – and then we’ll go.” She found Hagrid’s kettle and started filling it with water when something squeaked from inside. Hermione looked in and gasped. “I don’t believe it! Ron! Look, it’s Scabbers!”

Ron shook his head and took the kettle from her hands, pouring it onto the table. Sure enough, the rat tumbled out and tried clawing its way back into the dented copper kettle.

“Scabbers! There you are! What are you doing all the way out here?” Ron scooped him up and held him to his chest, avoiding eye contact with Hermione.

Heather glanced at Harry and back at the rat in Ron’s hand. “Are you sure that thing’s Scabbers?”

Ron held the struggling rat up to the light. It was thin all over with a round belly like it had swallowed a ball and had large missing tufts of hair all over leaving red patches of dry skin showing.

“It’s ok Scabbers! There’re no cats here, nothing to hurt you!” Ron pinned Scabber’s little arms down and held him, rocking him back and forth as soothingly as possible.

Hermione crossed her arms. “Is there anything you’d like to say to me Ron?” She glared.

Ron looked over at her. “Yeah. Apologize to Scabbers for letting your cat scare him all the way up here. Look at the state of him!”

“Oh, you’re asking ME to apologize – ?”

Hagrid stood suddenly, staring out the window, his red puffy face had gone pale and rigid with worry.

“They’re comin’… They’re comin’ down righ’ now!” he hissed, looking over at them.

The four of them turned and watched Professor Dumbledore coming down the castle steps in the distance, talking and pointing and motioning over the grounds. Fudge and Macnair slowly trailed a few feet behind as they tried their best to navigate the pebbly downhill path from the castle.

A purple darkness was slowly seeping out from behind the castle, mixing with the orange pink of the sky. It was like doom followed the group of men as they neared. Heather fought tears, hoping for this not to be Buckbeak’s last sunset.

They looked at each other, tears brimming and reflecting the dying day.

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[ciestessde]

Phantasma Magica Ch. 6

STORY SUMMARY

Clockwork and the Observants send Danny to Hogwarts on a special mission. But, cryptic as ever, that Old Stopwatch never actually told him what would happen on it!!! “All you need to do right now, Daniel, is stay focused on your mission. And remember, the-” “‘The Lions with the time-turner, lightning-bolt scar, and hair like fire are friends; watch out for the rat; and the black dog is not a threat.’ Yeah, you’ve only repeated that a few dozen times today.”

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When Danny returned later the next day, things were mostly how he had expected to find them: most of the students had left for the holidays, the Trio were talking in front of the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room, and Harry looked absolutely exhausted. Against what he had expected, however, the other two weren’t trying to comfort Harry. Ron was getting angry. Hermione was on the verge of tears. They were trying to convince Harry not to go after Black. That it was too dangerous. That the dementors and other authorities would catch him. That the biggest piece of Pettigrew they could find (after Black blew him up) was his finger.

Danny didn’t interfere; it really wasn’t his place to. But if Harry wanted to go after Black, he would gladly help him. Ron gave up, suggesting they should go visit Hagrid. Harry, wanting to ask Hagrid why he had never told him about Black, readily agreed, and Danny (both because he dared not let Harry out of sight in this state, and because he wanted to hear more about Black himself) followed them to the hut -- which was far too close to the dementors’ patrols for the phantasm’s comfort.

But when they arrived, it was far from a happy holiday greeting that they received -- the half-giant was sobbing and, after letting them inside his small hut, shoved a letter toward Harry to read. Danny, having learned his lesson about getting distracted and tuning people out, listened… But was still slightly distracted, not by the large dog, but by the EVEN LARGER… horse… eagle… hybrid creature- it looked like if someone had decided to make a pegasus, but added the head of the bird too. BUT! Danny did manage to listen past his shock (for the most part). The letter was some court order, saying that Hagrid’s “hippogriff” (which, he figured out, was the not-a-pegasus) named “Buckbeak” did something bad, and, after a hearing (which sounded like it would be completely bogus), the Ministry’s “Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures” were likely going to execute the poor thing.

Ron, Hermione, and even Harry -- his anger now thoroughly diffused -- did their best to comfort Hagrid, promising they’d help him make a good case for Buckbeak’s innocence. Calmer, petting his dog’s head and with a cup of hot tea in front of him, Hagrid admitted, “I’ve not bin meself lately. Worried abou’ Buckbeak, an’ no one likin’ me classes--” “We do like them!” Hermione said, lying rather convincingly. “Yeah, they’re great!” Danny noticed Ron’s fingers crossed under the table. “Er-- how are the flobberworms?” “Dead,” Hagrid said gloomily, “Too much lettuce.” “Oh no!” Ron’s lip twitched, making his lie rather unconvincing.

“An’ them dementors make me feel ruddy terrible an’ all.” Hagrid shuddered. “Gotta walk past ‘em ev’ry time I want a drink in the Three Broomsticks. ‘S like bein’ back in Azkaban--” He cut off, and the room went silent. ‘Azkaban…?’ “Is it awful in there, Hagrid?” Hermione asked timidly. “Yeh’ve no idea. Never bin anywhere like it. Thought I was goin’ mad…” He described, to Danny’s disgust, a prison guarded by dementors sucking the happiness and, eventually, the very life-essence out of every prisoner, night and day.

“But you were innocent!” Hermione cried. Hagrid snorted. “Think that matters to them? They don’ care. Long as they’ve got a couple o’ hundred humans stuck there with ‘em, so they can leech all the happiness out of ‘em, they don’ give a damn who’s guilty an’ who’s not.” He was quiet, then said, “Thought o’ jus’ letting Buckbeak go… tryin’ ter make him fly away… but how d’yeh explain ter a hippogriff it’s gotta go inter hidin’? An’--an’ I’m scared o’ breakin’ the law…” He looked up, tears leaking out his eyes, “I don’ ever want ter go back ter Azkaban.”

If there was anything that his best friend Sam had rubbed off on him while he was still human, it was her dual loves of nature and freedom. And Danny already had not-so-friendly feelings for the dementors around this castle. So to hear about a prison guarded by them, and then a section of government devoted to “disposing” of creatures they disapproved of… Danny was developing some not-so-friendly feelings for the wizards’ “Ministry” as well…

So Danny was quite eager to help with the Trio’s research in building a defense for Buckbeak. He helped them pour over volume after volume, and article after article, for anything even remotely relevant to Buckbeak’s case (He had clawed the arm of a student -- ‘Malfoy. Why is it always Malfoy???’ -- who’d provoked him, directly against Hagrid’s instructions to the class). The research, to Hermione and Ron’s relief, also distracted Harry from searching for and worrying over Sirius Black.

Eventually, Danny needed a break. He’d been stuck inside this castle (which, though big, consisted of the same rooms as ever) for too long, his eyes were swimming with fancy law terms and news articles, and his visit to the side-town “Hogsmeade” was cut short before. So, after satisfying himself that his friends would be safe for a few hours without him, Danny followed the tunnel under the Whomping Willow -- eager to investigate why it had been blocked off.

The tree’s flailing branches passed right through him, and he entered a tunnel that was dark even for Danny’s night-vision. It let out into what seemed to be an abandoned house -- only this one had scratches and claw-marks all over the inside. ‘I wonder what this place is…?’ Turning invisible and intangible, Danny flew straight up and through the ceiling and the roof, then turned around. ‘Oh! This must be the “Shrieking Shack!”’

He had heard about some of the highlights of Hogsmeade from Ron and Hermione. Judging by the run-down appearance of the house below him, and the fence around the yard, this was the house that was supposed to be haunted. ‘I don’t feel any presences, though… Except maybe a few animals. But I guess that’s not surprising! Figures that it’s not actually haunted, heh!’

Danny surveyed the rest of Hogsmeade from above. He couldn’t buy anything, but it could be fun to look around the shops anyway. Especially that joke shop! ‘I’ll leave that for last!’ He floated down to street-level, deciding to start with the post-office. It was like a busy zoo enclosure, with owls of all sizes flying around and waiting to have letters attached to them. Next was the candy store -- which seemed almost like a joke shop unto itself! There were some free samples, too, which he took a few of for later. In one barrel was some blood-flavored lollipops, though… which reminded him: ‘There’s something to mention to Professor Lupin later… Phantasms’ worst enemies aren’t dementors, they’re vampires. Guess they’re part of this… “magical community.” Better keep my eyes out.’

The joke shop was just as fun as he thought it’d be and better. There were several items he knew Tucker (his other best friend…) would’ve gotten a kick out of -- and plenty he knew Sam could’ve found all sorts of uses for! ‘Oh, man… A quill that misspells EVERYTHING you write…! I mean, I would’ve had to convince him to use a quill first -- but Mr. Lancer would have HATED this thing…!’ So, with a mental list of things he wanted for Christmas (in case anyone asked), Danny turned back toward the Shrieking Shack for one last look at it before returning to the castle.

‘How did this place get SO torn up…’ There were claw marks going from ceiling to floor. The floor itself was a network of scratches in every direction. There wasn’t a single piece of untouched furniture… ‘Well, something clearly used to live here--’ His tour came to a halt when he entered a bedroom. Sitting on the bed, staring him straight in the eyes… A face from a wanted poster flashed through Danny’s mind…

‘Sirius Black…’

Silently, and before the man could react, Danny dove, grabbed him by the throat, and pinned him to the wall. His ethereal flames danced in his right hand; the claws of his left pricked the skin of Black’s throat, dripping a tiny bit of blood on his prison uniform -- before the wounds froze over, frost covering his shoulder and the wall behind. The windows faced away from the sun -- Danny was the only light in the room. Sirius was frozen -- though not literally. His mind was back in Azkaban. Except… this wasn’t a dementor in front of him- WHAT WAS THIS?!

Danny couldn’t decide whether to kill him now -- ‘I’m NOT an animal! I am NOT a MURDERER!!’ -- or bring him to the castle -- ‘They’ll just kill him anyway!’ Danny growled, frustrated and hungry -- vibrating and shaking Sirius’ heart in his chest. Which was all Sirius needed to snap out of it and remember how he escaped the dementors--

Danny couldn’t do a thing as he watched the criminal morph -- into a BLACK DOG -- ‘The black dog is not a threat’ -- escape his grip -- ‘Black dog is not a threat’ -- and run for the tunnel under the Whomping Willow...

‘Black is not a threat…’ …

Danny floated there, in that bedroom, with his arm outstretched, for a good half-hour out of shock.

‘What… do I do now… ‘Clockwork…?’

~~~~~

You can now follow the Podfic Version of this story on AO3. I’ll also try to remember to post links to individual chapters here on Tumblr, as well, though!

As always, if you like this, please REBLOG!

(Updates every Wednesday until completion.)

Other places you can find this fic: Fanfiction.net/~ciestess ArchiveOfOurOwn.org/users/Ciestess/profile Deviantart.com/Ciestess

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[uefb]

Fantastic Beasts One-Shot

The Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures link

Summary

It's June 1943, and Newt Scamander and Tina Goldstein are living in Dorset with their first child while Tina heads the American Auror initiative in Europe. Meanwhile, the Ministry of Magic has just begun working with the Allies to plan for the invasion of Nazi-occupied Europe through Normandy, via Dorset's neighbouring English Channel. Newt and the rest of Dumbledore's team are still on Grindelwald's radar, and news of Ministry reconnaissance employing a certain magizoologist and a kelpie ends up in the wrong hands. Newt is brought before his own department for Animal Welfare violations, but it quickly becomes clear that this isn't really about the kelpie at all: war is about subtle threats as much as it is about violence itself, and--with the weight of his daughter strapped to his back and the memories of missions gone wrong in his mind--it doesn't take much to remind him of that. // This is equal parts adorable domestic fluff and historical-based angst.

EXCERPT*

June 7, 1943 - 8:45 AM Seaside Dorset, England, UK

Newt was juggling a child under one arm and a crutch under the other when an owl carrying a bright red, Ministry-embossed envelope swooped in through the open window of their house in Dorset. He ignored the owl for several minutes in favour of heating Leora’s porridge and preparing his own tea, absentmindedly reciting the taxonomic ranks of magical and non-magical salamanders to keep his daughter entertained while he worked.

When he’d finally gotten them both settled at the table (only dropping her bottle and his crutch twice) and triggered the daily charm that gently shovelled porridge into her mouth long enough for him to read their morning post and skim the Prophet, Ghost, and muggle headlines, he was surprised to find the address on the scarlet envelope stamped with the crest of the Beasts Division, as opposed to the urgent letters he was more used to receiving from the Auror Office these days.

He glanced up at Leora and cleaned off her chin with a calloused thumb and warm smile, and then slipped on his glasses and ripped into the letter.

He immediately blinked.

The thin stack of papers was topped with his own division’s letterhead, but then typed firmly below it in the blanks of an auto-filled, enchanted department form (that he had, decades ago, designed one of the charms for):

The Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures and the Animal Welfare Office summon Newton Artemis Fido Scamander for unauthorised possession, transport, and misuse of a beast (kelpie); the endangerment of a beast (kelpie); the injury of a British citizen (wizard, civilian) by an untamable or mishandled beast (kelpie); and a Grade 5 infraction of the International Statute of Secrecy (ICW) for all of the above.

Newt stared at the page, reached down to scratch at the deep, slowly healing bite inflicted by the referenced kelpie (Moira), and then actually, truly laughed.

He was authorised (blanket-authorised to work with kelpies actually!) and the only injury—due to his own stupid mistake—had been his own.

What the hell was going on?

Sentencing: Up to and including disposal of the beast (kelpie) and/or 30 months in Azkaban (Scamander). Hearing to commence: Noon today (June 7) on Level 4 (Department for the Regulation & Control of Magical Creatures) at the Ministry of Magic, London.

Typical threats for the accusations and—though a thoroughly inconvenient timeframe (even if not an unusual one, given how often handlers tried to dispose of evidence)—he wasn’t particularly concerned by them. His work and care for the kelpie had been—even if off-the-record—assigned by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and that should speak for itself. However, as he read through the full two pages of the summons while Leora babbled musically beside him, it became—quickly—significantly less humorous…

…and unregistered transport of a creature from Britain to an international waterway for labour-related purposes constitutes unlawful trafficking. Furthermore, use of the beast in a non-native habitat (saline and/or brackish) outside its natural biome (freshwater: inland) should be considered particularly egregious. Note: Report and recommendations prepared by Alice Abbott, junior investigator (Beasts Division - Animal Welfare). Original investigation completed by Antony Flint, senior investigator (Beasts Division - Illegal Trade).

The details in his summons—frankly—should not have been known by anyone outside of the joint wartime DMLE-Muggle Liaison task force he’d recently been brought onto, in response to the Allies’ decision to breach the Nazi’s Atlantic Wall at France, via the English Channel. [1, 2, 3] The Ministry had finally become invested in the Muggle war when it was made clear a few years before that Grindelwald and his supporters were not at all above hiding behind—and occasionally utilising—Muggle warfare and Nazi ideology to thoroughly infiltrate every crack of the continent, and entire world.

But the task force was classified. And rather highly so. Newt had barely made the cut himself. (Which, to be fair, really wasn’t that surprising.)

He flipped to the final page to review the list of all the academic references Abbott and Flint had used to justify his summons, and then he immediately found himself blinking again, before another disbelieving (and uncharacteristically loud) laugh burst forth—

“Are you kidding me!?”

Leora made a sound of mild concern at his exclamation, so Newt looked up long enough to offer a simple explanation in soothing tones. (So sorry — I know that was an unusual noise from Daddy, little light. But that’s, um - ��just one way humans express, er - frustrated amusement? Can you remember that? He didn’t think she really needed such explicit instruction—even at 14-months her eyes tracked faces just like Tina’s—but Newt wasn’t taking any chances.)

She opened her mouth again for the levitating spoon of porridge, so he flattened the parchment back down and hunched over to skim... *I’m sorry if you’ve already read part of this excerpt when I posted a snippet earlier -- there’s not a good choice for flow besides this one!

[uefb]

Ten First Lines

Tagged by Tolkien buddies (thanks @spiced-wine-fic & @roselightfairy!), but I am posting here instead of UnnamedElement because my fic has been for Fantastic Beasts recently, I am mostly active in the FB fandom at the moment, and since most of the ficwriters I interact with currently are on this blog.

Rules: share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written fewer than ten, don’t be shy and share anyway. If you are mostly an artist or meta-writer, please feel free to find a way to participate, if you would like :)

The Business of Worrying link

Newt is five-and-three-quarter years old when his mother takes him to St. Mungo’s for the first time.

Charms and Bluebells and Summer 1912 link

Exams were three weeks away.

The Most Vicious Creatures on the Planet link

Newt Scamander could never claim to have had a particular, in-born affinity with the human race.

A Home by the Sea link

It was in the early years of their marriage—after Tina had accepted an assignment in Europe—that she and Newt really got to know each other.

Head Full of Fairies link

The day had not been going the way Tina Goldstein Scamander had hoped.

With Its Head Under One Wing link

Dearest Tina,

The Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures link

Newt was juggling a child under one arm and a crutch under the other when an owl carrying a bright red, Ministry-embossed envelope swooped in through the open window of their house in Dorset.

In Desperate Need link

Newt Scamander was twelve years old, and he had never loved a place as much as he loved Hogwarts.

Flowers Will Come Again link

Laelas shifted a lamp to her right as she pulled another stack of damaged papers toward her.

Painted with the maps of newly stolen rivers link

That the sun rose the morning after the second longest night of his life was almost more of a surprise than the shattering of their world the day before.

Tagging @afrenchaugurey @katisfania @exasperatedtinagoldstein @bluelikeajay @themysteriousphoenix @scamanderishredmayniac @brisemolaire @salamanderscamander @eveneechan —I don’t even know if some of y’all post fic, and I’m certain I’ve forgotten someone. Apologies.

[scamanderishredmayniac]

That was really interesting and really good. I didn’t expect it to go like that. It started off humongous, so I was expecting something funny. But it got serious, in a good way that makes the reader want to know how things will resolve. A very well written little ficklett. Thanks for sharing with us. Definitely recommend.

Fantastic Beasts One-Shot

The Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures link

Summary

It’s June 1943, and Newt Scamander and Tina Goldstein are living in Dorset with their first child while Tina heads the American Auror initiative in Europe. Meanwhile, the Ministry of Magic has just begun working with the Allies to plan for the invasion of Nazi-occupied Europe through Normandy, via Dorset’s neighbouring English Channel. Newt and the rest of Dumbledore’s team are still on Grindelwald’s radar, and news of Ministry reconnaissance employing a certain magizoologist and a kelpie ends up in the wrong hands. Newt is brought before his own department for Animal Welfare violations, but it quickly becomes clear that this isn’t really about the kelpie at all: war is about subtle threats as much as it is about violence itself, and–with the weight of his daughter strapped to his back and the memories of missions gone wrong in his mind–it doesn’t take much to remind him of that. // This is equal parts adorable domestic fluff and historical-based angst.

EXCERPT*

June 7, 1943 - 8:45 AM Seaside Dorset, England, UK

Newt was juggling a child under one arm and a crutch under the other when an owl carrying a bright red, Ministry-embossed envelope swooped in through the open window of their house in Dorset. He ignored the owl for several minutes in favour of heating Leora’s porridge and preparing his own tea, absentmindedly reciting the taxonomic ranks of magical and non-magical salamanders to keep his daughter entertained while he worked.

When he’d finally gotten them both settled at the table (only dropping her bottle and his crutch twice) and triggered the daily charm that gently shovelled porridge into her mouth long enough for him to read their morning post and skim the Prophet, Ghost, and muggle headlines, he was surprised to find the address on the scarlet envelope stamped with the crest of the Beasts Division, as opposed to the urgent letters he was more used to receiving from the Auror Office these days.

He glanced up at Leora and cleaned off her chin with a calloused thumb and warm smile, and then slipped on his glasses and ripped into the letter.

He immediately blinked.

The thin stack of papers was topped with his own division’s letterhead, but then typed firmly below it in the blanks of an auto-filled, enchanted department form (that he had, decades ago, designed one of the charms for):

The Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures and the Animal Welfare Office summon Newton Artemis Fido Scamander for unauthorised possession, transport, and misuse of a beast (kelpie); the endangerment of a beast (kelpie); the injury of a British citizen (wizard, civilian) by an untamable or mishandled beast (kelpie); and a Grade 5 infraction of the International Statute of Secrecy (ICW) for all of the above.

Newt stared at the page, reached down to scratch at the deep, slowly healing bite inflicted by the referenced kelpie (Moira), and then actually, truly laughed.

He was authorised (blanket-authorised to work with kelpies actually!) and the only injury—due to his own stupid mistake—had been his own.

What the hell was going on?

Sentencing: Up to and including disposal of the beast (kelpie) and/or 30 months in Azkaban (Scamander). Hearing to commence: Noon today (June 7) on Level 4 (Department for the Regulation & Control of Magical Creatures) at the Ministry of Magic, London.

Typical threats for the accusations and—though a thoroughly inconvenient timeframe (even if not an unusual one, given how often handlers tried to dispose of evidence)—he wasn’t particularly concerned by them. His work and care for the kelpie had been—even if off-the-record—assigned by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and that should speak for itself. However, as he read through the full two pages of the summons while Leora babbled musically beside him, it became—quickly—significantly less humorous…

…and unregistered transport of a creature from Britain to an international waterway for labour-related purposes constitutes unlawful trafficking. Furthermore, use of the beast in a non-native habitat (saline and/or brackish) outside its natural biome (freshwater: inland) should be considered particularly egregious. Note: Report and recommendations prepared by Alice Abbott, junior investigator (Beasts Division - Animal Welfare). Original investigation completed by Antony Flint, senior investigator (Beasts Division - Illegal Trade).

The details in his summons—frankly—should not have been known by anyone outside of the joint wartime DMLE-Muggle Liaison task force he’d recently been brought onto, in response to the Allies’ decision to breach the Nazi’s Atlantic Wall at France, via the English Channel. [1, 2, 3] The Ministry had finally become invested in the Muggle war when it was made clear a few years before that Grindelwald and his supporters were not at all above hiding behind—and occasionally utilising—Muggle warfare and Nazi ideology to thoroughly infiltrate every crack of the continent, and entire world.

But the task force was classified. And rather highly so. Newt had barely made the cut himself. (Which, to be fair, really wasn’t that surprising.)

He flipped to the final page to review the list of all the academic references Abbott and Flint had used to justify his summons, and then he immediately found himself blinking again, before another disbelieving (and uncharacteristically loud) laugh burst forth—

“Are you kidding me!?”

Leora made a sound of mild concern at his exclamation, so Newt looked up long enough to offer a simple explanation in soothing tones. (So sorry — I know that was an unusual noise from Daddy, little light. But that’s, um -  just one way humans express, er - frustrated amusement? Can you remember that? He didn’t think she really needed such explicit instruction—even at 14-months her eyes tracked faces just like Tina’s—but Newt wasn’t taking any chances.)

She opened her mouth again for the levitating spoon of porridge, so he flattened the parchment back down and hunched over to skim… *I’m sorry if you’ve already read part of this excerpt when I posted a snippet earlier – there’s not a good choice for flow besides this one!

[uefb]

@scamanderishredmayniac - Yep, they absolutely are, haha. I’ve written this part of the department as functioning on a largely automated report system, mostly manned by newbies. In order to blind their junior investigators to bias, they’re not given the name of the actual identity of the accused until they’ve turned in their report to head of department. It’s about to be awkward for everyone, especially because he’d ultimately been working with the kelpie at the request of another ministry department, and because the works cited to justify the accusation are just all of Newt’s own 😆

(I’ll probably post it on AO3 around Tuesday & I’ll try to remember to tag you)

Driving to in-laws today and we’re listening to Prisoner of Azkaban in the car. I had forgotten this committee existed, and the reminder thus inspired a Fantastic Beasts fic. (Obviously.)

Here’s the opening scene:

This started out straight-up humor, but it took on a significant amount of angst before yeeting itself straight into the interwar/WWII/Grindelwald-era of my With It’s Head Under One Wing ‘verse. I think it’s still gonna be an entertaining (and hopefully also still a little funny—I mean, their kid has a puffskein she’s attached to because it clears out the mucus from her allergies, that’s—I think—pretty objectively humorous) one-shot.