#gred is green-red

[kaidatheghostdragon]

Gotham folks compare cults like outsiders would compare mormons and jehovah witnesses. Its just very on brand for gotham.

Also, this all kinda got side-railed from shrimp eyes to spooky vibes. Seeing more colors is gonna do more than just make danny strange. Danny can see the color of souls. The others describe it as him reading your aura, and in a reduced sense, thats what it is. But comparing danny to your average pleb spiritualist abilities is like comparing a dragon to a newt.

He sees every emotion that weighs on your heart, every every bad thing you've done that has tainted your inner light, every yearning and dream you have to be better. The individual hues splashed on by each person you've cared for and, in turn, was cared by. The saturation by the strength of emotion. The shade of how dedicated or passive you were in those bonds.

Gothamites in general are a bit darker than most other places, sooty from the things they have to do just to survive all the curses that influence their lives. But in their ash and smoke, many of them burn like embers with a desperate hope to overcome and thrive.

Danny can see which ones are waining and need encouragement, and which ones have succumbed to the dark and only live for themselves. He's a VERY good judge of character.

Within 24 hours of starting his internship at WE, he's already figured out all the bat's identities. They burn brighter than most other gothamites, and each have their own unique colors.

Batman is a bright blorange, a constant contrast of unparalleled paranoia and unrivaled hope. Hood is a vivid gred, angry at the world but deeply determined to improve it. Robin is soft yellurple, a hidden innocence being rediscovered while unlearning a wicked indoctrination. Nightwing is a colorful pure white pitch black, stubborn innocent joy in the face of untold horrors.

The others are suitably unique. Orphan is a steady candle that blazes with the strength of a supernova, untouched by even the strongest winds. Spoiler is a mirror, reflecting others' light to help them learn how to be brighter. Red Robin is a laser pointer, able to highlight - or set aflame - the smallest and seemingly most insignificant details.

Signal's meta powers allow him to refract the full spectrum of spiritual color and even direct the light around him like an invisibility cloak. But most of the time, Danny finds him hard to look at - in the "fireworks factory got set ablaze" kind of way. He's pretty sure Duke isn't fully aware of his influence on color, as his control on large swathes of the spectrum appears almost nonexistant even as he tightly manipulates certain bandwidths, haphazardly flashbanging certain colors and violently flickering in others.

Maybe he's instinctively transforming a visible color into an invisible one in the belief that he's actually turning it off? At any rate, he probably needs someone to help teach him how to "open his third eye," so to speak. Knowing his own luck, that'll probably end up being Danny. He'll have to visit Frostbite and stock up on liminal-strength migraine medication before approaching Signal.

Okay, you know how bird don't ACTUALLY look the way we think they do?

They are far more colorful? But only to the eyes of other birds?

And it has to do with how light reflects off them and how their eyes are shaped etc etc.?

Well..... humans can see the most shades of green, right? But! We sure as shit can't see UltaViolet and InfraRed? Or shades BEYOND those. Ectoplasmic colors. Magical ones. Third eye, need to see with your SOUL type ones.

Danny? Could very well still have lil baby "kitten's eyes who haven't open yet" syndrome.

He thinks the Zone is Green and his hair is white.

But it's not.

His hair is Starlight colored. Frost. His suit is specifically "the void between stars" colored. Which looks... different? Then black? No, no, guys. How can you guys not see it? It looks REALLY different! How did he not NOTICE before?! They're not ever CLOSE to the same shade! It's like calling salmon and hot pink the same. You know... if you were to compare an actual fish and some irradiated, violently glowing version of "hot pink".

......guys?

His gloves are.... guys, these ares stars. Pressed so close together there's no gap. His body is the night sky, all rearranged. He's wearing SPACE, guys.

*continues to stare at his gloves for the next five hours*

Now... why is this relevant? Because! Danny slowly, as all humans do, adjusts! It's like finally having glasses after years of blurry vision. He... forgets, what it was like, not NOT See Zone Colors. Not completely, mind you, but enough he has to be reminded.

And the Zone? A Realm of the Dead. Specifically, the great catch-all and highway of the Dead. They get EVERYBODY. Misfits and vagabonds. Those who don't quite fit. Funky lil dudes. And of course, assholes, but everybody has those! See, Zone colors?

Are DIFFERENT.

They're all of um!

It's like looking at the technicolor, stobe light, multi galaxies in one, Sun. Tingly(tm)!!! You get used to it. What helps? Is that as garish as the Zone is? The painting and grand tapestry of it all? Keeps changing. Like weather. If it's too much for you, you can stay inside your Lair until the current Color changes. Until the designs shift. Vibe changes.

There are even glasses for that! "Temperate" areas for people to set up, that get headaches or are just... kinda killjoys. Too each their own. Though the stormy areas? Those guys are freaks. Watch out for those guys. They're the kind who stare directly are stars until their eyes burn out.

Where was I? Oh yeah! Danny!

No longer a wee baby, smol baby, twig-o!

Sad. We miss it.

But he did get used to Seeing The Colors. Got a handle on his powers. And! Finally worked with his parents on how to safely turn the portal OFF. There was much booing. Cries of "kill joy" and "booo! You suck!". But? Like? Dude DID have the right to protect his home. Go to college. What can you do?

Problem with THAT is? Baby grew into his "built like a brick shit house of constantly running off to literally tackle the Supernatural excellence" Fenton genetics. He Tall. Muscles! And he PUMPING out "somethings fucked up with me" Vibes!

Add in his DEEPLY Sus off hand comments. Weird ability to tell when someone has or is about to die. Basic immunity to the cold. Fuckin EYE GLOW?

Ha ha... *Horror movie screams from his college dorm mates*

Clearly a demon!

He gets kicked out. Well... not kicked out. He's a model student and broken no rules. They'd never survive the lawsuit. But... he's? STRONGLY INCOURAGED to finish his education elsewhere. Repeatedly. By like... 15 colleges.

Sam is not just livid, she's actively foaming at the mouth.

Breathe, Sam! Remember what your doctor said! Your mortal body can't handle that kinda Vengance spiral! Think of your blood pressure! Breathe!!! (Were not for the laws of this land... and the weak, fleshy constraints of her mortal form!)

Thankfully? Tucker's been interning, remotely of course, with Wayne Industries. He asked his manager where he could find some of those scholarship forms. (Since Gotham University is just a touch out of Danny's price range.) Manager wanted to know why. And oh! Oh holy shit. Apparently? Danny is the hot new office gossip.

People in the main office are OUTRAGED. Danny's "too spooky"?! Too FUCKIN SPOOKY!? Are you KIDDING THEM? Even juicier, a Meta kid from some wacky ghost hunters turned scientists. From a line of Supernatural hunters. Wants to be a aeronautics engineer.

Ooooooh how SPOOKY! Better watch out! He'll design an ENGINE at yooooou!

Fuckin casuals. Non-Gothamites are WEAK. "Too scary" their collective asses. Yeah, maybe the kid SHOULD come too Gotham. He can be the weird kid. Mildly unsettling or something. His powers won't be SHIT in Gotham. Just remind him to buy a gas mask.

So! Danny gets his Scholarship! Merrily packs his bags for darker, Gothic hellscape hills. Unaware... that Constantine has been following reports of a "demon" that he's? 80% sure is a Banshee but MIGHT be a winter spirt with a shtick? For the past 13 colleges. He's getting closer. And this sucker is a strong one.

Not "this is going to cause me serious, life imperilling danger" strong. But more? "Man, that cat is HUUUUUGE". Could he still get mauled a lil? Yeah. Scratched to all hell and back? Probably! But DIE? Unlikely.

He just needs to know why the FUCK this spirit his hanging around colleges.

Which is made harder... by the fact that what HE sees? And what OTHER people see? When they look at this guy? Separate things. Yeah, he'd LOVE to give you guys a description! IF HE HAD ONE.

@the-witchhunter @hdgnj @hdgnj @spidori @babbling-babull @nerdpoe @lolottes

[stagerie]

sometimes i like to pretend that my followers are starving orphans named vector living in a basement begging for me to feed them

[sussustoogus]

loggos halloween promo image changed my life

[markrosewater]

If/when: merging Red and Green into the same thing to make Magic more colorblind accessible?

We’re still workshopping the name. Which do you all like better, Regreen or Gred?

[webionaire]

One way of approaching Goodman’s aesthetics, and of seeing both its unity and continuity with his work in other areas of philosophy, is by recalling some of the ideas presented in one of his early works, Fact, Fiction, and Forecast (originally published in 1954 [Goodman 1983]). There Goodman formulates what he calls “the general problem of projection” (of which the famous “new riddle of induction” is an instance). The problem is grounded in the general idea that we project predicates onto reality (a reality that is itself “constructed” by those projections, according to the constructivist approach Goodman defended from the time of A Study of Qualities [1941], hence in The Structure of Appearance [1951] and, later, in Ways of Worldmaking [1978a]). Hume famously claimed that inductions are based on regularities found in experience, and concluded that the inductive predictions may very well turn out being false. In Fact, Fiction, and Forecast, Goodman points out how “regularities” are themselves in a sense problematic. Take such objects as emeralds, which we classify by using the predicate “green.” They can also be said to be “grue,” i.e., observed up to a certain time t and found green, blue otherwise. Hence, our observations seem to equally grant two different inductions—that emeralds will remain green after t or that they will be blue. The problem is a general one, involving not just hypotheses but the projection of any predicate onto the world. Indeed, as we divide the world into green and blue things, so could we divide it into grue and bleen things (things that are observed up to t and found blue, and green otherwise). Notice that, under a description of the world using the “green/blue” predicate pair, there may be no change at time t (no change in the color of emeralds and sapphires for example), whereas there would be change under the alternative “grue/bleen” pair. Likewise, whereas there may be change, at time t, under “green/blue” (in case that, say, an emerald is painted over at t), there may be no change under the alternative pair, “grue/bleen.” The new riddle of induction—and, in general, the problem of projection—is, then, to explain what are the bases for projecting certain predicates—“green,” “blue,” “red,” etc.—onto the world, and not others—“grue,” “bleen,” “gred,” etc. For, as Goodman states it, “[r]egularities are where you find them, and you can find them anywhere” (1983, 83). There is no difference in principle between the predicates we use and those we could use, but rather a pragmatic difference in habit, or of “entrenchment” of certain predicates and not others.

[flyingbooks42]

Partially in response to your tags, I'm going to infodump a little, hopefully that's okay (this was originally intended to be a reply, but then it got too long for the replies). The word ''grue'' was first coined by the philosopher Nelson Goodman for a thought experiment to mean a color that is green until some arbitrary future date and then becomes blue. The point of the thought experiment is to contest the concept of induction, which is inferring future events from past observations. We might say that an object is green, but we cannot rule out that it is grue until the date that it becomes blue, because our observations of a green object and one that is actually grue are the exact same until that date. In fact, we can extend this to say that there are an infinite number of grues (and grurples, and greds, etc.) that change color all at different dates. And though it may seem implausible, what grounds do we have to say that it is implausible on? Only the fact that we have not seen colors change like this before, but here we get to the heart of the problem of induction: the only reasons we have to believe that induction works are based in induction, so induction is based in circular reasoning and thus not logically valid - we only think that the future is similar to the past because the present has been similar to the past.

Grue was also later used in linguistics (as sack-man is approximately using it) to mean color categories that include both blues and greens, and is the most common "composite category" for color words. This is distinct from color terms such as teal, which are mixtures of the (color opponency theory) primary colors (black, white, red, yellow, green, and blue). Such mixtures are also known as derived/intersective categories. The difference between composite and intersective categories is that composite category includes colors from multiple primary colors within the bounds of one word, while intersective categories are experienced as blends of multiple categories.

[berryregalia-blog]

I try so hard and yet lighting remains far from my grasp @A@

[booksforevermore13]

The Mystery Girl

This is my too late entry to the Hinny Ficfest. I just got to know about it a few days ago, and I just loved the concept of something solely being for Hinny fanfiction. I haven't been writing very long, but I just had to participate.

Thank you to @clarensjoy for organizing this!

Also written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition.

Huge thanks to my QLFC teammates for beta-ing this!

Prompt 68: "Are you just `going to stand there and gawk?" / "Yes." / "Well stop it. You look stupid." Prompt 23: "I'm not afraid of your sister, you're afraid of your sister." Prompt 29: "Do you even know what a whisper is?"

Summary: "I swear, if you're Draco Malfoy or another one of his cronies, I'll hex you where it'll hurt. Badly."

"I'm not," Harry replied hurriedly, though he suspected even Malfoy would answer no to that.

Missing moment in HBP between Harry and Ginny.

Read it on Fanfiction if you prefer.

...

"She's crazy," Harry heard Ron moan, "and just when you think you've reached the bottom of her craziness, there's a crazy underground garage," and winced as the latter banged his head on the table.

That morning, when the sky was barely blue with a chorus of greys, Harry had heard Ron scream bloody murder and shot up off the bed, only to see him behind a huge oval mirror — courtesy of Neville's grandmother — and went back under the covers. He'd figured that if Ron was potentially being threatened by a crazed homicidal maniac, he wouldn't have been screaming about it while standing behind a century old mirror. So he'd gone back to bed and been woken up an hour and a half later by a snickering Fred and George on a visit to Hogwarts, who'd informed him of a very distraught Ron in the Great Hall.

Of course, he'd rushed out, slipping on a shirt backwards, and scrambling towards the Great Hall, heedless of the beautiful day outside and how perfect the wind was for a game of Quidditch, closely followed by the twins, who snickered all the way there. It was only when he reached it did he fully grasp that the situation couldn't have been too bad if the twins were snickering.

Worst case was, there'd been a prank gone wrong. Ron being on the opposite side of it.

Harry squinted as he walked forward, eyebrows furrowed as he tried to discern the misshapen blob on top of Ron's head. For a second there, it did look like a spell gone wrong and Harry felt a twinge of panic as he walked faster. It was red from what he could see, and he came to a stop as he realised that it looked frighteningly like a poorly knit hat.

"Why," Harry said, still squinting, "are you wearing that?"

Ron didn't answer, instead wailing as he buried his head in his hands. Harry shared a look with a still snickering Fred and George who'd taken a seat on either side of Ron while Harry took the seat opposite.

"Beautiful hat eh, Ronniekins?" Fred said, in a vaguely condescending tone. "Though, if I might say, a poor choice for impressing darling Lav-Lav."

Ron didn't answer and let out yet another sound of anguish which sounded more like a distraught sob than a yell.

"Are you…. okay Ron?" Harry asked a second later, out of necessity more than concern.

"No I'm not okay!" Ron wailed, "I'm not bloody okay! Do I look okay? No! I'm wearing a bloody woolen hat in the middle of May!"

"We've noticed," Harry said, as he took small sips from his mug. "Why though, are you wearing a woolen hat?"

"Oh, let us," Fred said, a sly grin on his face as he bent forward and ripped Ron's hat off.

George howled in laughter as Harry choked and spluttered out his pumpkin juice, coughing violently as Ron lunged forward at Fred, who dangled the hat at arm's reach.

"You've got pink hair," Harry laughed at the same time Ron yelled at Fred to give back his hat or go and do something he dared not mention in front of Mrs. Weasley.

"Oh, Ronnikins," Fred laughed.

"you look so awfully good —" George quipped.

"— have we mentioned?"

"Suits your brows," which were also pink.

"— and your eyes —"

"— not to mention the lips." George puckered his lips slightly, making a popping sound that only managed to anger Ron even more as he looked fit to murder.

"Mind your own bloody business," he yelled at anyone who looked twice at him, or more specifically, at his head.

"It's pink!" Harry giggled again, covering his mouth as Ron shot him a glare, before dissolving in hysterics again.

"It's lavender, I'll have you know," he grumbled.

Harry laughed harder, before finding it in himself to sober down. Fred and George, though, paid no heed as they continued laughing hysterically, Fred even going to lengths to ruffle Ron's lavender hair, met by a glare and a well-placed curse word.

"What were you trying to do?" Harry said, glancing at Fred as he bit back a smile. "Match with Lavender?"

"Sure, yeah Ron," Fred added, "it'd be even more fun to stick your tongue down her throat with that head full of hair of yours. Imagine her hands tangled in your lavender hair, her lips —"

Ron punched Fred in his side, cutting him off as he doubled over laughing, while Harry drew his legs in as Ron's flung over to kick his.

"Ginny did this, not me," he defended. "And I'm going to have it out with her, I tell you. I'll dye her hair purple, or green, or-or black —"

"Wait, Ginny did this?" Harry gaped. "Wow, I mean, bad wow, very disappointed wow," he said quickly as Ron shot him a look.

"You underestimate her," Ron grumbled, "she's the devil's spawn, that one, even worse than these two gits here." He pointed at a smirking Gred and Forge.

Harry smiled to himself, his cheeks reddening rapidly as he spotted George looking at him with a suggestive grin. Fred joined in, wiggling his eyebrows, and Harry ducked down in embarrassment.

"Won-won!" he winced as heard a shriek cut through the silence, "ohh, my precious Wonnie-boo!" He cringed as he heard Lavender making kissing noises as she ran over to where they were sitting.

"Murder me, Harry," Ron muttered.

"Yeah, no," Harry replied, "you're doing a pretty good job yourself," he shook his head as he picked up a piece of toast, quickly leaving as Lavender threw herself over Ron.

…

He was screwed.

His assurance of his screwed-ness became even stronger as he heard Filch hurrying down the corridor and calling out for Mrs. Norris. The dastardly cat was going to die a horrible death, Harry was sure of it, and he cringed as he heard another pair of footsteps right outside the broom cupboard.

The small space was cramped, just high enough for Harry to rise up to his full height, and it was dark. Pitch dark, and if this was the metaphorical colour black — as Luna so wisely commented time and again — he didn't like it very much.

Harry held his breath as hurried footsteps stopped in front of the cupboard and turned around to hide his face as the door opened, eyes blinded by the light outside. He heard the door close again.

And then the blackness resumed.

That was until he felt a hand push him backwards roughly and he shrieked, his hands going up in mock defence.

"Who the hell are you?" the person demanded, and Harry discerned it to be distinctly feminine, and familiar. Very familiar, he thought.

He stayed silent though, wary of giving his identity away to a girl in a broom cupboard. Perhaps, he thought, she'd get the memo and leave, though he couldn't for his life guess why she had been hiding there in the first place.

The girl stayed silent for a second, probably waiting for a response before she said fiercely. "I swear, if you're Draco Malfoy or another one of his cronies, I'll hex you where it'll hurt. Badly."

"I'm not," Harry replied hurriedly, though he suspected even Malfoy would answer no to that. But the girl seemed satisfied as she humphed and turned around. There was a soft mellow in the mystery girl's voice and he knew he'd heard it before, he just couldn't place where.

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked, before cursing under his breath. Normal conversation generally required a 'who are you?' and mutual knowledge of their identities, but clearly, that wasn't the case here, and anyway, Harry had a slight feeling that the girl wouldn't disclose her identity even if he asked.

He waited. And then sighed as the girl remained silent.

"You're talking too loud," she said finally. "Obviously, you're hiding in here from something, or someone," she snorted there and Harry smiled, "so if you don't talk softly, then you're going to get us caught."

"Filch's cat," Harry said.

"What?"

"I'm hiding from Filch's cat."

"Oh," the girl gave a humorless chuckle, "bloody thing's going to have a miserable death. I'm sure of it."

"So I take it you're hiding from her, too?"

"Filch actually," the girl said, "and I suppose that includes the cat too."

"What did you do?"

"Set off fifteen dung bombs in his office," and Harry could swear she had a tinge of pride in her voice, and for a moment, marveled at the nerve of this girl who'd threatened to hex his parts off the first minute they'd met, now claiming to have thrashed Filch's den. There were very few in the school who had the guts to do that, and Harry felt himself flushing as he wondered whether the girl in front of him was Ginny.

Before he could say anything more though, she stepped forward and pried open the door, peeking out to look for what Harry knew now was Mrs. Norris and her owner.

He caught a glimpse of her red hair as the door opened, and his suspicions about her identity grew and almost the very next second, the girl shut the door close, and he could make out her leaning on it.

"Bloody hell," she cursed, and Harry for the second time was flooded with how familiar that sounded, and how he had heard Ginny curse like that before as he felt her push him against the back wall of the cupboard and shuffle in behind him, so that now they were just barely touching, yet not, her body shielding his. Harry felt himself smiling at how the girl, who he had now deemed about a foot shorter than him, was trying to shield him from whatever came knocking on the door. The feeling felt almost foreign for him, for nobody before the Weasleys and Hermione had ever so readily provided a shield so unanimous and here was a girl, who could very well turn out to not be Ginny, shielding him from a petty predator.

However trivial that sounded, Harry felt a warmth blossoming in his chest.

"Just remember, if we get caught, you're deaf and I don't speak English."

"Huh?"

"I think Filch's coming our way," she explained.

"What?"

"Do you even know what a whisper is?" the girl hissed, and Harry's instincts went into overdrive as he clamped his hand on what he could hope was her mouth, pushing her backwards as he shielded her petite body with his, so that he was now between her and the door.

He waited for the footsteps to pass, completely aware of how close the two of them were, and he waited with baited breath as he heard Filch's grumbles get softer. The moment the sounds became distant, Harry yelped and snatched his hand away. She'd bit him!

"Lumos Maxima," the girl whispered and her wand lit up. Harry blinked as he saw her features come into view and her bright brown eyes glare fiercely up at him before they softened.

"Harry?"

"Ginny?" Harry said, more like a fact than a question, because he'd already known who it was all the way. He just couldn't believe he hadn't recognized her the second she'd entered the cupboard. It was hard not to.

Ginny laughed, and Harry turned red, satisfaction brimming in his chest as he took in her illuminated face. Her chuckles died down as she looked up at him.

"Are you just going to stand there and gawk?" Ginny asked, a smile playing on her lips, and Harry had an unexplainable urge to just bend down and kiss her. They were just a few inches apart, probably the closest they had been since forever, and it would take him to bend just a few inches to capture her lips with his.

"Yes," Harry found himself answering truthfully.

"Well stop, you look stupid."

And Harry laughed, and Ginny joined him, and Harry found himself just looking at her and thinking how beautiful she was. And not just beautiful, she was… radiant.

His hand was still pressed beside her head and she slipped out underneath it, the light in her wand dimming as she made her way to open the door.

"Aren't you coming?" she asked as the door swung open. Harry squinted, his eyes adjusting from the dark to the light as he, for a brief second, noticed how her red hair seemed to light up against the sun, making it seem as if it was on fire.

So he followed her out, and they smiled as they met each other's eyes.

Ginny noticed him before he did.

"Shit," Ginny cursed. "We're screwed."

Filch glared at them as Mrs. Norris purred, and Harry couldn't help but agree.

…

"Oh there was a time when they used to hang students by their thumbs in the dungeons," Filch said darkly. "Those were the days."

"I suppose you were hanged like that a lot," Ginny said sweetly, and Harry nudged her, sending her a warning look.

"What did you say?"

"They probably used your toes. Seeing your thumbs weren't large enough."

"Two months scrubbing the toilets with a toothbrush," Filch screamed shrilly, and Harry pushed Ginny backwards as the man advanced on her, Mrs. Norris following him.

He stopped as he saw Harry's menacing glare. "You, boy," he said, glaring at Harry, "you're going to spend a month in the dungeons. Scrubbing the floors till they shine."

"That's not fair," Ginny bellowed, and Harry pulled her away before Filch could open his mouth. He suspected if they stayed there for a second longer, there'd be murder committed. Or at least a heinous crime.

"Two months in the toilets," she muttered darkly as they walked down the corridors, "that lying, cheating piece of scum," she growled. "And his cat—oh, I hope that cat rots in hell."

Harry laughed, and then stopped as Ginny shot him a look, both of them lapsing into silence.

"Seeing your thumbs weren't large enough," Harry chuckled, seconds later. "You don't take things seriously sometimes, you know?"

"Never take life seriously," Ginny said, and Harry looked at her, glimpsing a side of her he hadn't seen before. "No one ever comes out alive anyway."

And though those words were too crude to be true, Harry agreed with them wholeheartedly.

…

"Wait," he said as they neared the Gryffindor common room, before laughing, "you dyed Ron's hair pink."

"Lavender, actually," Ginny replied, "thought it'd match his girlfriend."

Harry chuckled, shaking his head as Ginny grinned an impish grin. "You're scary, you know." The words slipped out of his mouth before he could stop them. "Amazing, but scary."

Ginny laughed as she leaned against Harry's shoulder. "That's one of the best compliments I've ever received."

"One of the best?" Harry asked. "What's the best?"

"Oh. I don't know," Ginny shrugged, "probably on the lines of crazy ass she-demon who hides under children's beds."

"Really?" Harry laughed, "who said that?"

"Ron. I think Charlie agreed too."

Harry laughed and flushed as his hand brushed against hers. Instinct took over as he interlocked his fingers with hers and Ginny looked up in surprise, before relaxing into his hold, smiling happily. She was beautiful, Harry couldn't help but notice again as she swung their hands to and fro like two children.

But, he supposed, it probably wouldn't hurt being a child once in a while.

He'd never been one before — he'd at least never felt like one, even with Ron and Hermione. Like the entire world, they expected things from him, however few they might be. Ginny never expected; she'd always been the one to give without expecting anything in return. Never once, looking at him in pity or with a look that showed she understood everything he was going through.

She didn't, and she knew that and she made sure everyone around her knew it too. She tried to understand though, but if she wasn't able to, she didn't try further. Never pressed for more. Ginny, Harry had seen, was as open as he was withdrawn. What he saw was the truth — at least to him — and she was fiercely proud of that,almost daring anyone to oppose, but nobody ever did. He liked that.

Harry looked at her once again, smiling as he saw her glance at him through the corner of her eye.

"Oi, Harry!" He heard Ron's voice break through his reverie and felt a surge of disappointment as Ginny spotted her brother and let go of his hand. Ron was wearing that hideous woolen hat again, and Harry and Ginny exchanged glances, looking away to hide their grins.

"Heard you got into detention with Filch," Ron wheezed, "and you too." He pointed at Ginny.

Both of them nodded and Ron looked at them suspiciously before asking, "Were you two together all afternoon?"

"Yeah, well —" Harry looked at Ginny.

"We kind of fell in trouble together."

Harry smiled.

"Can't imagine why," Ron replied snarkily. "And you," he said, looking at Ginny, "don't think I haven't let you off the hook for this." He pointed at his hat, slightly grimacing.

"Didn't know I was on a hook," Ginny said cheekily. "I think you've lost your bait."

"Just taking pity on the number of toilets you have to scrub."

"I'll ask you for help if necessary."

Ron shook his head, exasperated. "He didn't do anything, right? Filch?" he asked, moments later.

"Relax, Ron," Ginny smiled, "I can take him any day."

They watched her walk away, a spring in her step, Harry with a smile on his face before Ron turned to him.

"I'm not going to see you with green hair tomorrow, am I?"

"I'm not afraid of your sister, Ron. You're afraid of your sister," Harry said and he grinned.

I think I'm in love with her.

...

[sugar-quilled]

ron weasley x reader

request

a/n: i slipped from the topic a little bit, pretty sure what i wrote isn't teasing, and if you'd like me to change it just tell me :)

summary: While visiting Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, Ron's clothes get sucked into a machine. All of them, except for his boxers.

genre: comedy and (im not sure if this counts as fluff but) fluff

word count: 1.6k

pronouns: not used

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Diagon Alley was packed, as it always was at the start of a term. Underneath a beautifully clear sky, students were seen hurrying to purchase potion ingredients and new robes. Those that had already purchased the items on their Hogwarts list were seen crowding around a new and extremely flashy building.

The store front was painted in a shocking orange color, with a large figure standing inside a window and tipping his top hat to the surrounding crowd below. In neat, gold printing, the store was identified to be none other than Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.

You entered through the door amongst other eager shoppers, and immediately heard a circus-like music, coupled with the chatter of about 50 people.

Shelves on shelves of brightly colored goods and at least 4 oddly built staircases met your eyes. Immediately to your left was a brightly colored display of candy. Your walked closer, and Fred and George Weasley popped out from a counter nearby.

"Taking a look at those nosebleed nougats are you, Y/N?"

"We've got samples over here if you like-"

"Just eat the red and you'll see the red!"

"And one bite of the other side will stop it just like that."

"And fever fudge!"

"There's only a bit of those puking pastilles left, clearly we're due for a restock, Fred."

"Well, Y/N, welcome to our shop and go enjoy yourself! Call us if you need any help and we'll be right by your side in a jiffy. Now come on, George, one kid over there looks mightily suspicious."

You smiled after the twins' backs, not even angry that they hadn't let you get a word in, when you spotted Ron Weasley taking a look at Headless Hats—now on sale for 1 galleon and 8 sickles! Your previous conversation (could you even call it a conversation?) with the twins immediately left your brain and you made your way over.

Ron had been a long time crush of yours. In fact, the two year anniversary of your feelings was yesterday, and you celebrated by having a whole-hearted sobbing fest while your friends stared awkwardly at each other and tried to console you. Not that your friendship wasn't something to be happy about, but Merlin you just wished you could hold his hand. Romantically. You didn't think Ron could ever like you, what with his being best friends with Hermione Granger who was both insanely smart and jaw-droppingly gorgeous.

"Ron! It's nice to see you!"

He immediately swung around and burst into a very toothy grin. "Y/N! It's nice to see you too! What's up?"

You smiled back. "Nothing much! Your brothers' shop is gorgeous! The, uhh, those nosebleed nougats are really fascinating. And you? How was your summer?"

Ron put a headless hat down and strode closer to you to check out a row of punching telescopes. "Quite uneventful, to be honest. But yeah this stuff they came up with? Have you seen the smart-answer quills? Blimey I'd never have to ask Hermione for help again! And those fainting fancies. Reckon Snape'll believe one of those?"

You laughed. "Are you planning to faint during a lecture? It's our N.E.W.T year, you'll need all the information you can get."

Just then, Fred and George appeared right behind you.

"Having a good conversation, Ron?" Fred said cheerfully, elbowing Ron in the ribs—"Ow, Fred leave us alone!"—"Do you two want to check out the back?"

"Just don't steal anything, Y/N," George winked.

"Unless that something is Ron's heart," Fred muttered. Or you thought he muttered. But the twins' expressions had been wiped blank so that you couldn't tell whether Fred had really said it, and Ron had busied himself in untangling two extendable ears, so whether he had blushed or hadn't, you also couldn't tell.

"Lead the way, George!" Fred chortled, and swept away.

"Alright then. Right this way, you two!"

George led you and Ron, whose mouth seemed to be clamped shut, weaving past shelves higher than you to a door at the very back of the store. A small plaque on the door said: "Weasleys Working: In Progress." He twisted open the door, and beckoned both of you in. Right in front of you was a huge lab and packaging station. You could see potions brewing to your right, and to your left, there were two witches packaging a box of puking pastilles.

"So," George started, "welcome to our work station! Y/N, you might have seen a big gray thing over there upon entrance." He pointed. You looked. "That is actually something we've just installed in and its a bit of muggle machinery. Michelle and Rosalyn over there," he nodded towards the two witches, "used to have to do all the wand work manually but this big old thing makes some parts automatic. Quite useful!"

You stared at the big metal machine. There was a sort of chute at one end, and a big pipe leading up and into the ceiling.

"Well, I'll leave you two to it, and Michelle and Rosalyn," he called, "would you mind helping me out in the main area? Fred's left to check on the upstairs, and there's too many people waiting in line for purchasing." George gave Ron a ginormous wink, and left the room. The door swung back and clicked to a close.

You walked over to the muggle machine, very aware of Ron trailing behind you.

"Blimey, that thing's big. What does it even do?"

"I don't know, it looks like something that deposits goods into this bin under it. I'm not really sure where the goods come from though."

Ron circled the massive thing twice, and the second time, he tripped over a wire. Thankfully, he managed to stand himself upright with one hand leaning on the machine.

You laughed at him, and he looked embarrassedly back with a forced chuckle.

Then there was a loud whirring noise, and as Ron turned around in fright, the thing began sucking.

You were wrong. It didn't deposit things. It took them to be deposited.

With a frantic yell and many grabs at a nearby table, Ron's clothes ripped off. The machine sent them rattling through the chute and the whirring noise came to a stop.

Well. Not all of his clothes.

Ron was left standing in a pair of heart adorned boxers. Red hearts.

He tried his best to cover himself, but seeing as he only had two hands and more than two things on display, it was quite difficult.

You realized that you were staring and quickly looked away.

Ron was carefully looking at anywhere but your face.

After quite a long time's silence, your croaked out, "nice boxers, uh... dude," while looking at the ceiling. A giggle escaped despite your attempts at keeping it in, and you were sure Ron's face now matched the color of his hair.

"If you tell this to Gred- I mean, Fred or Gor- George, I'll-" he started shakily, "I'll die."

Seeing as he wasn't threatening you and assuming this meant friendly conversation could be engaged, you stammered, "they really suit you. You know, the red and all. Although I'd suggest a green pair next time. Because of the color wheel and those two are compl-"

Ron had burst into shaky, suppressed laughter.

"Never- never mind my fashion choices, how the bloody hell am I supposed to get my clothes back?"

"Well I don't see why you want them back. I mean think of the ladies you'd get by walking down the street with this lovely attire. Maybe for accessories you can add a bit more red by eating a nosebleed nougat, I'm sure I saw a few when I entered."

Both of you were laughing now, but a yell of shock from upstairs made both of you jolt.

"Oh no, no, no," Ron muttered, darting his eyes around as if trying to find a hiding spot, "Fred's upstairs, he knows what I was wearing, oh no, no-"

The door swung open. Fred was standing in the doorway looking highly amused.

"Ron, I thought you said you'd never wear those! Aunty Muriel will be pleased her present wasn't a waste of money!" Fred exclaimed, striding into the room and circling Ron, who was shaking fiercely. "They do compliment your hair, maybe I'll have to borrow the pair one day."

You choked back a laugh, bursting a vein for sure, when Fred rounded on you.

"I didn't know you two were already on this level of your relationship. Looks like Ron here neglected to tell me some bits!" Fred said cheerfully, waving his wand so that Ron looked perfectly normal again, except that his entire face was now the same color as the hearts on the boxers underneath the normality.

"Well I daresay you two have looked around, I was up there nearly 10 minutes," Fred continued, gesturing towards the door, "and Y/N, regrettably we have no products that erase recent memories-"

"Shut up," Ron muttered, walking towards the door.

"-but the idea is certainly a brilliant one and I'll be sure to start developing it." Fred gave a hearty wink as both Ron and you had exited the room, and closed the door.

You looked at Ron. He looked back.

"Well you know I never said I wanted to erase that memory. You did look quite marvelous."

Ron laughed, though his face still looked like he supported the UK Quidditch team.

"You should really take my suggestion of that green pair, and I wouldn't mind seeing how that looks either."

Both of you doubled over in laughter.

"And," you choked, "a pair of shoes to match wouldn't hurt either, though I daresay you'd rather go barefoot? Shoes shouldn't be worn to bed, after all."

There were definitely tears coming out your eyes now, and the two of you stumbled drunkily, still shaking with laughter, out the shop and down the ever so full streets of Diagon Alley.

[lunaverseimagine]

Worth Dying For

Request: Can someone PLEASE make a Fred Weasley imagine where he died defending you at the last battle because he was the only one that knew you were pregnant with George’s baby? @writerinnight

Pairing: George x Reader, platonic!Fred x Reader

Warnings: Major character death, angst, I’ve never written angst like this before and I apologise in advance for any pain caused 👀

Word count: 1.4k

Tags: @flyingserpxnt @pcseidcnsvoid @cherrycolakxsses @justanotherblondeday @schlongbottom @wand3ringr0s3 @hemmoporro Join a taglist through the link in my bio <3

Fic:

You had so many mixed emotions when you looked at the test. Your hand flew to your mouth and tears filled your eyes. Butterflies went crazy in your stomach. You were going to bring a baby into the world. But not the sort of world you’d pictured when you imagined this moment. You allowed yourself a couple of minutes to absorb the information before taking some deep breaths and wiping the tears from your eyes. As you opened the bathroom door you collided with a firm chest.

“Blimey y/n/n, sorry, I-“ but Fred fell silent as his gaze drifted to the stick in your hand. Your eyes widened and you hid it behind your back, but it was too late. “Y/n... is that what I think it is?”

You debated lying, but there was no point, you wouldn’t be able to hide the truth from him now. Checking the hallway to make sure you were alone, you forced yourself to say the words.

“I’m pregnant.” You looked down at the floor, digging your toes into the carpet, anxiously awaiting his response. Surely Fred would be disappointed that you were pregnant now, that you were bringing a baby into this. But Fred’s arms wrapped around you and he lifted you off the ground.

“Merlin’s beard y/n/n, that’s brilliant! Georgie’s gonna be so happy-“

“I’m not telling George.” Fred put you down and looked at you with furrowed brows, hands still holding onto your arms as though he didn’t want to let go completely. “Not yet. Tomorrow is just so... huge. I don’t want him distracted or… or worrying about me.”

Seeing the resolve in your eyes, Fred knew there was no changing your mind, so he enveloped you in another hug and mumbled in your ear, “I’ll look out for you, you have my word. But If it’s going to be a secret you might want to stop waving that stick around.” You slapped him lightly, but hid the test in your pocket nonetheless.

-

You and George stood side by side, the rest of your families not far away, a united team. It was the calm before the storm, and the castle was completely silent. You couldn’t believe that this used to be your school, your home. Soon to be a battleground, inevitably covered in bloodshed. A shiver ran down your spine before you pushed those thoughts to the back of your mind. Now, more than ever before in your life, you needed to focus. You observed the grey skies, the cold bite to the air, as you listened, waiting for any sign of movement.

Something brushed against your fingers and you jumped, your hold on your wand tightening, before realising it was George. “Sorry love.” he whispered as he clasped your hand in his own and squeezed it reassuringly. You squeezed back, leaning in to him so that the side of your body was flush with his. George, your George, your boyfriend of 6 years and the soon-to-be father of your baby. You sent a silent prayer to whoever was listening, asking that you, George, and bump would survive. 

“I love you Georgie.” Your voice was barely a whisper, but in the silence he heard you perfectly.

“I love you too y/n.” You could see the fear in his eyes, watched as he bounced his leg and looked nervously around. You pressed a delicate kiss to his cheek, lips lingering on the stubbly skin.

Suddenly the shields surrounding the castle began to break, and the scene turned to utter chaos. You and George stood back to back, casting spells at death eaters, constantly scanning your surroundings in case anyone needed backup. Fred had joined you so you were now standing in a triangle, fighting enemies on all sides.

The battle was a blur, flashes of red and green all around, shouts and screams filling your ears. Pushing down thoughts of the baby, thoughts of George, and of everyone else you wanted to protect, you focused instead on what you could see, on what you could do. That is, until the moment time seemed to slow down. The moment when three death eaters apparated in front of you. You knew there was no way you’d win against all of them, but dammit you would not go down without a fight. As you lifted your wand to disarm the death eater closest to you, all three of them raised their wands, pointing them directly at you. You heard the words forming on their lips, seeming to take an eternity, words that haunted your worst nightmare. Words you had hoped never to hear in your lifetime.

“Avada-”

You watched a mess of ginger hair in front of you. 

“NO!” Your mouth formed the word, feeling disconnected from the rest of you.

You watched his arms spread wide to shield you

“Expelliarmus!” You cast, disarming one of the three evil people threatening the life of those you held dearest.

You watched as he disarmed another one, doing his best to protect you just like he promised.

“Kedavra.”

You watched as he crumpled to the floor in front of you, revealing the last death eater stood before him, the one responsible for taking his life.

You cast the curse back at him, not that you needed to because your scream had attracted attention, and curses were firing at him from all sides.

You fell to your knees next to Fred, letting out a scream that came from the depths of your lungs, your soul. You felt George beside you, turning to see him stare blankly at the lifeless face of his twin, of his other half. George was looking but not seeing, not registering, until suddenly he did, and he grabbed Fred’s hand.

“No no no no, Freddie, wake up, wake up, it’s me, it’s George.” His voice was breaking, and you cradled his head, brought it to rest in your chest as you held him, tears streaming down your face. “It’s George, you know, like Forge? Gred? I can’t be Forge or Gred on my own, I can’t do it, you have to wake up, you have to.” You clutched George tightly but his hands still held Fred’s cold one, refusing to let it go, refusing to believe that he could be gone. “You have to. You have to.”

The battle raged on around you but you couldn’t bring yourself to care, George had to know. He had to know why this happened. 

“I-” the words caught in your throat, it was so painful, your heart was aching, but George needed to know. “I know why he did it.” George lifted his head, glazed, bloodshot eyes meeting yours.

“What?”

“He- he jumped in front of me because otherwise- otherwise it would’ve been me-” at this thought your chest constricted and you had to fight to breathe, “and he didn’t want that because I’m pregnant. I’m pregnant Georgie, and he knew.” The last bit came out as a mere whisper, but George was hanging on to every word, trying to make sense of it all.

“You’re- you’re pregnant?” You merely nodded. George finally found the courage to let go of his twin’s hand, holding on to you for support because there was no way he could do this on his own, he needed you, his lifeline. He buried his face in your chest in an attempt to ground himself, and you clutched onto him, not daring to let go. The two of you rocked back and forth, unable to process the severity of the situation.

His family, his parents started to realise what had happened and were coming towards you, but you couldn’t bear to see the looks on their faces, so you pressed your face on top of George’s head, kissing him because he’s still alive and Fred isn’t and it’s not fair and your baby’s dad is alive and his uncle isn’t. 

You stayed there for hours, long after the battle ended. You’d won, but at what cost? You didn’t know if you’d ever be able to breathe without feeling the pain in your chest, the weight filling you, reminding you of what Fred had done. What he’d done for you. You couldn’t even imagine the pain George was in, losing half of himself. You didn’t know what the future would look like or how things could ever be ok again. So you did what you could. You held on to George.

End

**

Edit: There is now a part 2 and I promise it’s happier than this 👀

**

So... sorry 🥺 If you did enjoy this (or if your heart was broken) please let me know - reblogs and comments do a lot to motivate my writing, and my posts aren’t showing up in tags atm so reblogs are the only way to spread them 💖💖

Also feel free to check out my other stuff (mostly fluff I promise) and my writing challenge. Thank you for reading 💕

[thewidowsghost]

The Unknown Muggleborn - Chapter 8

3rd Person POV

Later that night, (Y/n) crawls under her covers to go to sleep; Marvel lies her small head on (Y/n)'s chest.

"'Night, girl," (Y/n) murmurs, drowsily scratching behind the cat's ears.

. . .

A few hours later, Marvel lifts her head, nuzzling (Y/n)'s face to try to wake her up. She lets out a whimper, pawing (Y/n)'s face.

The girl was sweating and her neck was resting at an awkward angle. Her breath had quickened and her eyes were moving rapidly under her closed eyelids.

Marvel jumps off the bed and streaks into Hermione's room. Hermione had always been a light sleeper, so when the cat jumped onto her bed, she wakes.

Marvel meows, and Hermione's head tilts in concern.

"What's wrong, Marvel?" Hermione asks and the black-and-white feline paws at Hermione's hand and jumps off the bed, stopping at the door, then looking back at the brunette.

What a peculiar cat, Hermione thinks, throwing back the covers and following the cat across the hall to her sister's room.

Marvel streaks over and onto the bed, her green eyes wide as she tries to nudge her companion awake again.

Realization and fear dawn in Hermione's eyes and she walks across the room and switches on (Y/n)'s bedside slight before placing a hand on her sister's shoulder, shaking it roughly.

"Come on," Hermione murmurs. "You've got to wake up."

(Y/n)'s eyes flash open, and she sits up in her bed, her eyes closed, head leaning against the headboard, her hands trembling.

Hermione sits down on the edge of (Y/n)'s bed, and takes her sister's hands in her own.

(Y/n) looks up, her eyes wide with shock - and a bright silver.

Hermione looks at her sister and (Y/n) subconsciously moves over and Hermione slides under the covers, her back leaning against the other half of (Y/n)'s pillow.

(Y/n) leans against Hermione's shoulder; Hermione, used to these nightmares, remains silent.

After a few minutes, she reaches over and turns off the bedside light.

(Y/n) turns on her side, her head resting on the pillow, and Hermione does the same.

. . .

(Y/n) and Hermione don't talk about the nightmare the night before as the two go about the rest of the break leading up until Christmas.

After breakfast Christmas morning, (Y/n), Hermione, and their parents walk into the living room.

"You girls want to pass out gifts?" Mrs. Granger asks and (Y/n) and Hermione nod.

After passing out the gifts, (Y/n) settles back down at her place in front of the couch. (Y/n) pulls the wrapping paper off one from Fred, and sitting on top was a card. It said:

(Y/n), Somebody got this picture of your first Quidditch match, I thought you'd like it.

- Fred

Lifting up the card, (Y/n) smiles seeing a picture in a frame. It was a picture of Fred and George lifting her up onto their shoulders after her first Quidditch match.

(Y/n) sets the picture and card beside her before picking up a gift from Harry. She smiles when she sees a Advanced Charms book and a book on Magical Creatures.

(Y/n) looks over at Hermione as the brunette at her side opens her gift. (Y/n) had given her sister a copy of Hogwarts: A History.

"I have a copy already," Hermione says, turning to (Y/n).

"There's a charm on it," (Y/n) explains. "Whenever something important in Hogwarts' history, it get's copied down in here. Look," (Y/n) says, opening a page. It says, October 31, 1991 - Hermione Granger, (Y/n) (L/n), Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, defeated a mountain troll in a girls toilet.

Hermione stares down at the book and a smile slowly spreads across her face. "This is really cool! I love it! But that's not how that went," Hermione says.

"Ah, but it's better than what actually happened," (Y/n) argues. "That was not my best birthday."

(Y/n) grabs another gift, pulls the paper off, and finds a box of chocolate frogs from Harry, and she sets them aside, promising to have one later.

One of (Y/n)'s last gifts is a package wrapped in glossy blue paper with wolves printed on it.

(Y/n),

Happy Christmas! I'm very proud of what you have accomplished at Hogwarts in such a short amount of time.

-Love,

Uncle Remus

(Y/n) gazes down at the card, a small smile on her face. Then she sets the card at her side and looks at the contents of the box. Inside was a small stuffed wolf with a tag on it's ear that read - (Y/n)'s first stuffed animal, a gift from Uncle Remus. Under that was a new stack of photos that (Y/n) promises herself to look at later.

(Y/n) opens a package and finds a red sweater with a silver (First Initial) on it. Under the sweater was a large box of homemade fudge and a letter.

(Y/n), My sons Ron, Fred, and George have told me a lot about you. My husband, Arthur, and I wish to meet you soon. Happy Christmas! -Molly Weasley

Grinning, (Y/n) pulls the sweater over her head and the four finishing opening all their gifts, both (Y/n) and Hermione take all their things upstairs.

3rd Person POV - with Harry - A few hours earlier

On Christmas Eve, Harry goes to bed looking forward for the next day for the food and the fun, but not expecting any presents at all. When he wakes early in the morning, however, the first thing he sees is a small pile of packages at the foot of his bed.

"Merry Christmas," says Ron sleepily as Harry scrambles out of bed and pulls on his bathrobe.

"You, too," says Harry. "Will you look at this? I've got some presents!"

"What did you expect, turnips?" says Ron, turning to his own pile, which is a lot bigger than Harry's.

Harry picks up the top parcel. It is wrapped in thick brown paper and and scrawled across it was to Harry, from Hagrid. Inside is a roughly cut wooden flute. Hagrid had obviously whittled it himself; Harry blows it - it sounded a bit like an owl.

A second, very small parcel contains a note. We received your message and enclose your Christmas present. From Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia. Taped to the note is a fifty-pence piece.

"That's friendly," says Harry.

Ron seems fascinated by the fifty pence, "Weird!" he exclaims. "What a shape! This is money!"

"You can keep it," says Harry, laughing at how pleased Ron is. "Hagrid and my aunt and uncle - so who sent these?"

"I think I know who that one's from," says Ron, turning a bit pink and pointing to a very lumpy parcel. "My mom. I told her you didn't expect any presents and - oh, no," he groans, "she's made you a Weasley sweater."

Harry had torn open the parcel to find a thick, hand-knitted sweater in emerald green and a large box of homemade fudge.

"Every year she makes us a sweater," says Ron, unwrapping his own, "and mine's always maroon."

"That's really nice of her," says Harry, trying the fudge, which was very tasty.

Harry's next present also contains candy - a large box of Chocolate Frogs from Hermione which Harry thought was kind of funny because he had gotten (Y/n) the same thing.

Harry's next parcel was from (Y/n). Opening it, he sees a small box. Feeling curious, Harry opens the box to see a couple of photos. One was of a raven haired man with amber eyes, Harry's father, and a red haired women with emerald green eyes, his mother. The two are standing with a (M/H/C) haired women, (Y/n)'s mum; all three were smiling.

Harry looks at another picture of two kids, probably about a year old. One was a boy with raven hair and emerald eyes, the other was a girl with (H/C) and green eyes - Harry himself and (Y/n).

Then, Harry sees a piece of paper sitting in the box.

Hey Harry,

I found these pictures in the box my godfather left me and I made a few copies. I figured you'd want them.

-Love,

(Y/n)

Harry smiles and picks up the final present. He picks it up and feels it. It's very light, he thinks, and he unwraps it.

Something fluid and silvery gray goes slithering to the floor where it lies in gleaming folds and Ron gasps.

"What is it?"

Harry picks up the shining, silvery cloth off the floor. It's strange to the touch, like water woven into material.

"It's an Invisibility Cloak," says Ron, a look of awe on his face. "I'm sure it is - try it on."

Harry throws the cloak around his shoulders and Ron gives a yell.

"It is! Look down!"

Harry looks down at his feet, but they are gone. He dashes to the mirror. Sure enough, his reflection looks back at him, just his head suspended in midair, his body completely invisible. He pulls the cloak over his head and his reflection vanishes completely.

"There's a note!" says Ron suddenly. "A note fell out of it!"

Harry pulls off the cloak ans seizes the letter. Written in narrow, loopy writing he had never seen before were the following words:

Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you.

Use it well

A very Merry Christmas to you

There is no signature; Harry stares at the note, while Ron is admiring the cloak.

"I'd give anything for one of these," Ron says. "Anything. What's the matter?"

"Nothing," says Harry. He fells very strange. Who had sent the cloak? Had it really once belonged to his father? he thinks.

Before he can say - or think - of anything else, but the dormitory door is flung open and Fred and George Weasley bounds in. Harry stuffs the cloak quickly out of sight. He doesn't fell like sharing it with anyone else yet.

"Merry Christmas!"

"Hey, look — Harry's got a Weasley sweater, too!"

Fred and George are wearing blue sweaters, one with a large yellow F on it,the other a G.

"Harry's is better than ours, though," says Fred, holding up Harry's sweater. "She obviously makes more of an effort if you're not family."

"Why aren't you wearing yours, Ron?" George demands. "Come on, get it on, they're lovely and warm."

"I hate maroon," Ron moans halfheartedly as he pulls it over his head.

"You haven't got a letter on yours," George observes. "I suppose she thinks you don't forget your name. But we're not stupid — we know we're called Gred and Forge."

"What's all this noise?"

Percy Weasley sticks his head through the door, looking disapproving. He had clearly gotten halfway through unwrapping his presents as he, too, carries a lumpy sweater over his arm, which Fred seizes.

"P for prefect! Get it on, Percy, come on, we're all wearing ours, even Harry got one."

"I — don't — want —" says Percy thickly, as the twins force the sweater over his head, knocking his glasses askew.

"And you're not sitting with the prefects today, either," demands George."Christmas is a time for family."

They frog-march Percy from the room, his arms pinned to his side by his sweater.

Harry had never in all his life had such a Christmas dinner. A hundred fat, roast turkeys; mountains of roast and boiled potatoes; platters of chipolatas;tureens of buttered peas, silver boats of thick, rich gravy and cranberry sauce —and stacks of wizard crackers every few feet along the table. These fantastic party favors were nothing like the feeble Muggle ones the Dursleys usually bought, with their little plastic toys and their flimsy paper hats inside. Harry pulls a wizard cracker with Fred and it didn't just bang, it went off with a blast like a cannon and engulfed them all in a cloud of blue smoke, while from the inside exploded a rear admiral's hat and several live, white mice. Up at the High Table, Dumbledore had swapped his pointed wizard's hat for a flowered bonnet,and is chuckling merrily at a joke Professor Flitwick had just read him.

Flaming Christmas puddings follow the turkey. Percy nearly breaks his teeth on a silver Sickle embedded in his slice. Harry watches Hagrid getting redder and redder in the face as he calls for more wine, finally kissing Professor McGonagall on the cheek, who, to Harry's amazement, giggles and blushes, her top hat lopsided.

When Harry finally leaves the table, he is laden down with a stack of things out of the crackers, including a pack of non-explodable, luminous balloons, a Grow Your-Own-Warts kit, and his own new wizard chess set. The white mice had disappeared and Harry has a nasty feeling they were going to end up as Mrs.Norris's Christmas dinner.

Harry and the Weasleys spent a happy afternoon having a furious snowball fight on the grounds. Then, cold, wet, and gasping for breath, they return to the fire in the Gryffindor common room, where Harry breaks in his new chess set by losing spectacularly to Ron. Harry suspects he wouldn't have lost so badly if Percy hadn't tried to help him so much.

After a meal of turkey sandwiches, crumpets, trifle, and Christmas cake, everyone feels too full and sleepy to do much before bed except sit and watch Percy chase Fred and George all over Gryffindor Tower because they'd stolen his prefect badge.

It had been Harry's best Christmas day ever. Yet something had been nagging at the back of his mind all day. Not until he climbs into bed is he free to think about it: the Invisibility Cloak and whoever had sent it.

Harry leans over the side of his own bed and pulls the cloak out from under it. His father's ... this had been his father's. He lets the material flow over his hands, smoother than silk, light as air. Use it well, the note had said.He has to try it, now. He slips out of bed and wrapped the cloak around himself. Looking down at his legs, he sees only moonlight and shadows. It's a very funny feeling.Use it well.Suddenly, Harry feels wide-awake. The whole of Hogwarts is open to him in this cloak. Excitement floods through him as he stands there in the dark and silence. He can go anywhere in this, anywhere, and Filch would never know.

Ron grunts in his sleep. Should Harry wake him? Something holds him back— his father's cloak — he felt that this time — the first time — he wants to use it alone. Harry creeps out of the dormitory, down the stairs, across the common room, and climbs through the portrait hole.

"Who's there?" squawks the Fat Lady. Harry says nothing. He walks quickly down the corridor.

Harry, his heart racing, and thought. And then it came to him. The Restricted Section in the library. He'd be able to read as long as he liked, as long as it took to find out who Flamel was. He sets off, drawing the Invisibility Cloak tight around him as he walked.The library is pitch-black and very eerie. Harry lights a lamp to see his way along the rows of books. The lamp looks as if it was floating along in midair,and even though Harry can feel his arm supporting it, the sight gives him the creeps.

The Restricted Section is right at the back of the library. Stepping carefully over the rope that separates these books from the rest of the library, he held up his lamp to read the titles. They didn't tell him much. Their peeling, faded gold letters spelled words in languages Harry couldn't understand. Some had no title at all. One book has a dark stain on it that looked horribly like blood. The hairs on the back of Harry's neck prickled. Maybe he was imagining it, maybe not, but he thought a faint whispering was coming from the books, as though they knew someone was there who shouldn't be. Harry had to start somewhere. Setting the lamp down carefully on the floor, he looked along the bottom shelf for an interesting-looking book. A large black and silver volume caught his eye. He pulls it out with difficulty, because it was very heavy, and, balancing it on his knee, lets it fall open.

A piercing, bloodcurdling shriek splits the silence — the book is screaming! Harry snaps it shut, but the shriek goes on and on, one high, unbroken, earsplitting note. He stumbles backward and knocks over his lamp, which went out at once. Panicking, he heard footsteps coming down the corridor outside —stuffing the shrieking book back on the shelf, he runs for it. He passes Filch in the doorway; Filch's pale, wild eyes looked straight through him, and Harry slips under Filch's outstretched arm and streaks off up the corridor, the book's shrieks still ringing in his ears.

Harry comes to a sudden halt in front of a tall suit of armor. He has been so busy getting away from the library, he hadn't paid attention to where he was going.Perhaps because it's dark, he didn't recognize where he was at all. There is a suit of armor near the kitchens, he knew, but he must be five floors above there.

"You asked me to come directly to you, Professor, if anyone was wandering around at night, and somebody's been in the library — Restricted Section."

Harry feels the blood drain out of his face. Wherever he is, Filch must know a shortcut, because his soft, greasy voice is getting nearer, and to his horror, it's Snape who replies, "The Restricted Section? Well, they can't be far, we'll catch them."

Harry stands rooted to the spot as Filch and Snape come around the corner ahead. They can't see him, of course, but it is a narrow corridor and if they come much nearer, they'd knock into him - the cloak didn't stop him from being solid.

Harry backs away as quickly as he can. A door stands ajar to his left. It's my only hope, Harry thinks. He squeezes through it, holding his breath, trying to to move it, and to his relief, he manages to get inside the room without their noticing anything. They walk straight past, and Harry leans against the wall, breathing deeply, listening to their footsteps dying away. They had been close, very close, It is a few seconds before he notices anything about the room he his hidden in.

It looks like an unused classroom. The dark shapes of desks and chairs are piled against the walls, and there is an upturned wastepaper basket — but propped against the wall facing him was something that didn't look as if it belonged there, something that looked as if someone had just put it there to keep it out of the way.

It is a magnificent mirror, as high as the ceiling, with an ornate gold frame,standing on two clawed feet. There is an inscription carved around the top: Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.

His panic fading now that there is no sound of Filch and Snape, Harry moves nearer to the mirror, wanting to look at himself but see no reflection again; he steps in front of it.

He has to clap his hands to his mouth to stop himself from screaming. He whirls around, his heart pounding far more furiously than when the book had screamed - for he had not seen only himself in the mirror, but a whole crowd of people standing right behind him.

But the room is empty. Breathing very fast, he turns slowly back to the mirror.

There he is, reflected in it, white ans scared-looking, and there, reflected behind him, are at least ten others. Harry looks over his shoulder - but still, no one is there. Or are they invisible, too? Is his, in fact, in a room full of invisible people and this mirrors trick is that it reflects them, invisible or not?

Harry looks in the mirror again. A woman is standing right behind his reflection is smiling at him and waving. He reaches out a hand and feels the air behind him. If she is really there, he would touch her, their reflections are so close together, but he only feels air - she and the others exist only in the mirror.

She is a very pretty woman. Dark red hair and her eyes, emerald green eyes. Harry edges closer to the to the glass. Bright green - exactly the same shape as Harry's, but then he notices that she is crying; smiling, but crying at the same time. The tall, thin, black-haired man standing next to her put his arm around her. He wears glasses and his hair is very untidy. It sticks up at the back, just as Harry's does.

Harry is so close to the mirror that his nose is nearly touching that of his reflection.

"Mom?" he whispers. "Dad?"

They just look at him, smiling. And slowly, Harry looks into the faces of the other people in the mirror, and sees other pairs of green eyes like his, other noses like his, even a little old man, who looks as though he as Harry's knobbly knees - he is looking at his entire family for the first time in his life.

The Potters smile and wave at Harry and he stares hungrily hack at them, his hands pressed flat against the glass as though he is hopping to fall right through it and reach them. He has a powerful kind of ache inside him, half joy, half terrible sadness.

How long he stands there, he doesn't know. The reflections do not fade and he looks and looks until a distant noise brings him back to his senses. He can't stay here, he has to find a way back to his bed. He tears his eyes away from his mother's face, whispers, "I'll come back," and hurries from the room.

Harry does for the next two nights and Dumbledore had found Harry the last night. Dumbledore had told Harry the purpose of the mirror, to show the deepest desire of their hearts.

Dumbledore had convinced Harry not to go looking for the Mirror of Erised again, and for the rest of the Christmas holidays the Invisibility Cloak stays folded at the bottom of his trunk. Harry wishes he could forget what he'd seen in the mirror as easily, but he can't He starts having nightmares. Over and over a again he dreams of his parents disappearing in a flash of green light, while a high voice crackles with laughter. What Harry didn't know, was that (Y/n) was having the same dreams. Repetition from the one on Christmas Eve night.

"You see, Dumbledore was right, that mirror could drive you mad," says Ron, when Harry tells them about these dreams.

Word Count: 3759 words

[sussustoogus]

red and green doodles back from the funkin forward trailer.. feels like seven million years ago

[fandomtrash264]

I have some Fred and George promts that I don't want to forget so imma put them here. If you are interested in writting them, by all means go for it, just tag me. I don't think I have a preference over who is in each scenario. I will probably write George and Fred based on what I thought but they should work with either twin. I do think they are different, im just saying that I could see the story going with either boy

• Reader and Fred pull a prank on George that changes his hair color based on mood. (Red - angry, blue - sad, green - disgust, light pink - embarrassed, hot pink - flirty, purple - in love/swooning, dark purple -lust) The 3 are sitting in the great hall eating and George is staring at reader and his hair turns purple. Reader thinks he has just zoned out and starts to bug him asking who he is thinking about. Leads to confession (and I imagine he is embarrassed so his hair is pink)

• Reader is a metamorphmagus and they like to switch between male and female so they change their physical appearance as such. (I see Fred as bi ngl) Fred gets a crush on the reader without knowing they are both people. A little while later, he falls for the other side (if that makes sense) of them and thinks he likes 2 different people. He is super torn and has no idea what to do

•This one is a Soulmate AU. The one where you can hear the music your soulmate is listening to. Reader is listening to ✨🌶 S p i c y 🌶 ✨ music and he knows its reader and he is shocked because they don't seem like they would listen to it and he is pleasantly suprised to find they are super flirty and such (he is twin of your choice lol)

•Yet again, one of our boys gets pranked. They lie about something that makes reader upset so they prank them so that everytime they try to talk, bubbles come out instead and the only way to undo it is to do somthing super embarrassing (I'll leave that to y'alls imagination's) and they refuse because they are petty but they eventually give in with this big social stunt or smth

•i imagine reader is a Ravenclaw (could really be any) who is the child of Bellatrix and *Moldy Voldy* (why ravenclaw you ask? I'll explain) They are in George and Fred's year so they are older than Harry. Reader was rescued a little before Harry was born and got to stay with someone else (probably Remus or smth. I imagine a gryfinndor so that way the Slytherin and the Gryfinndor kinda cancel out so you get Ravenclaw. Slytherin is their blood but they know its wrong so they push for the good values. I know slytherins can be good [believe me, I am very big on the fact that not all Slytherins are evil] but when its Bella and Mr. Tom, they have some bad bones) and they keep it a secret from their friends (the twins, the trio, etc.) Until Remus brings them to an OoTP meeting. He doesn't say who he just says he is bringing He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named 's child and they are terrified of how their friends will react. Kinda angsty but eventually they all understand that reader isn't evil

• Branching off of the previous, same family situation but when they were younger, they weren't seen as a child, they were a weapon. Trixie and Tommy boy would experiment on them so they are lowkey fucked up. They are super powerful and struggle to control it. Reader freaks out because they are terrified that he will be able to control them or see in their mind and good 'ole Gred and Forge help our reader to feel better and reassure them

• Reader and a twin are dating in 7th year (With Umbridge) and instead of breaking up or telling them about the plan to start a shop, they just leave and break off all contact. Years later they see each other and reader confronts them about how he couldn't even break up with them before leaving and he confesses his worries. Inspired by the song Ways to Break a Heart by Maddie Zahm [you can find it on YouTube]

• Can happen to either the reader or George or Fred but somehow by prank or accident in class, they get separated into different parts of themselves [parts like the 7 deadly sins (so they would be split into Pride and Lust) but also other things work (like Fear and Wonder)] and the other 2 have to deal with it until the problem is fixed

• (I have a lot with the boys and pranks, sorry lol) the boys get de-aged and reader has to chase them around because they are H E A T H E N S but then later on they put them to sleep and the Love Interest (twin of choice) snuggles up to them and mentions how much they love them and reader gives it no mind because "he was a baby". They snuggle and when they wake up the boys are of normal age and the Love Interest just snuggles closer and says something like "I meant it y'know. I really do love you/think you're amazing" and just. Fluff

• (I wrote George, yet again, could work with either) Reader is playing with the sleeve/hem/string of George's sweater/hoodie and he quips with a flirty comment like "you want the whole thing? Here, give it back when it smells like you" and the reader brushes it off as a flirty comment and teases "how am I supposed to know what I smell like? I'm noseblind to myself" and he gives them a scent. The scent seems familiar to them but oh well. They wear it because its soft and it smells like him and later on when they are chilling in the common room or whatever (George isn't there) they realize that's what he said he smelt in his Amortentia in potions last week and they lowkey freak out and go to ask him about it and aaaah! Cute things ensue

• [!!!TW: Depression, suicidal thoughts!!!] Can happen to either reader or one of the boys.(If it happens to a boy i see it being George as he seems insecure of being in Fred's shadow and I will write the prompt that way but it works with Fred and reader as well) George has been a little off recently and reader and Fred can't figure out what it is until reader goes to the astronomy tower late one night and finds George on the roof of the atronomy tower, seemingly fighting with himself about whether or not he should jump off. Angst, ends with fluff, reader helps him to feel better. Inspired by the song Achilles Come Down - Gang of Youths

•During their 6th year with the Triwizard Tournament, a durmstrange gent takes a liking to the reader. They start to court the reader and flirt with them, give them lots of compliments, try to show their affection. The Love Interest (again, twin of choice) get REALLY jealous tho and decides to try and out-do the durmstrang boy. This leads to really extravagant methods of flirting (ex. Sending a howler that is actually a shower of compliments or after a big quidditch match, the whole team does a choreographed dance where the suitor sings/performs to reader) all of this leading up to the yule ball. They either go with the durmstrange guy and deal with Love Interest later or they end up going with the Twin, whatever you would like

• Everyone is at the Burrow and they decide to watch a movie. While everyone is in the kitchen, the twin (who is the Love Interest) comes by and says "Oh! Are you guys watching a movie?" Readet replies "Yeah, P.S. I Love you" and he just blushes really hard and sits next to them and says "I love you too". Reader doesn't know how of if they are gonna tell him that "P.S. I Love You" is the name of the movie. Then everyone else comes back in so they have to wait until after the movie to talk about it. The whole time the movie is going all they can focus on are the "I Love You"s that escaped each others mouths. Inspired by a wolfstar text post by @starsandmoonys

• Inspired by the drarry work, Mental by sara_holmes on Ao3 (which you should totally go read like holy shit i love this idea sooooo much) written with George but as usual, can work with either. Reader is in for total shock when a joke gone sour ends with George striking them with a bad Legilimency spell. Due to this spell, they can (and have to) hear each others thoughts and see the pictures in each other's minds. What will happen when they see all that goes on in each others heads? Will they learn to communicate? Will they let one another in? Will they like who they see, or will they be scared away from the thoughts behind closed eyes?

• (TW!!!!: Dreamt character death, War) Fred and reader have been friends-with-benefits for a long time with feelings slowly growing between the 2 of them. They stay in denial until Fred has a nightmare one day where reader dies in the war. The next day he is desperate to hold them and see that they are okay. He confesses his feelings in fear of losing them. Inspired by Woke the Fuck Up - Jon Bellion

• [(TW!!! War) Fred lives] Fred and Reader had a huge fight right before Fred and George left Hogwarts and leave things on a rocky ending. Fred knows just how much he needs Reader and he desperately wants them back. Reader doesn't want to admit it but they miss him.and want him back too. They see each other again after the war and Fred breaks down in their arms and confesses how much he misses them and needs them. How hard it has been without them. Reader reciprocates these feelings and tells him. They start over, slowly building their love up again inspired by Bad Habit - Ben Platt [First verse and Pre-chorus would be Fred's feelings and second verse and Pre-chorus would be Reader. They blend on the 3rd]

• George has been strangely quiet all day. Reader is confused and a little hurt as George seems to avoid them. Leaving rooms when they walk in, not keeping eye contact and staying as physically far as he can. That is until they sit down in the great hall for lunch and Fred tells his friends (including reader) all about having put a truth serum in George's drink and all the funny things he has gotten him to admit. Reader goes to confront George about what he is hiding (because otherwise he would talk to them, right?) And they get an oddly specific but touching confession [ie. "I borrow your chapstick because that is what your lips will taste like" and "I see you in my dreams almost every night" ] inspired by Jenny - Studio Killers

• [Choose whether the person who can dance is reader or Twin of Choice. I will be writting with reader] The yule ball is coming up and reader can't dance to save their life. A certain red-heades friend comes in to help. At first, reader doesn't believe him because "c'mon, why would you know how to ballroom dance?" But they are pleasantly suprised to find they are actually really good at it. Like, REALLY good. "Mum made all of us learn. In case we ever needed it". Reader notices their feelings start to change as they spend more and more sessions together dancing until the yule ball occurs. Take it from there lol

• just a very cliche typical love potion fic. Reader volunteers to be on the receiving end of one of Fred and George's pranks- spike their drink with love potion- on one condition. The person reader will be in love with, knows about it. Reader figures this will allow them some leeway and safety against other pranks. All is going well until they spike the drink for reader to like (twin of your choice) and they realize that nothing has happened except they are a bit more flirty. Everyone is crazy confused because for everyone else they were head over heels swooning and attached at the hip until Hermionie (or somebody else) quips in with "You can't create something that already exists, y'know".

• So this one is less creative and it's also a mix of 2 tropes but bear with me. Reader is a very outgoing flirtatious type of person. They openly flirt with everyone, Fred, Ginny, Neville, Dean, etc. They don't care, its a way they show affection. Then, when they start to get a crush on George (or Fred) they star getting more shy and reserved with him. And he is completely clueless. He's lowkey hurt because "why doesn't Y/n crack jokes like that with me?" And shit like that. He is feeling down when he sees it. No, not 'it', he sees you. You and Fred flirting. He's got you cornered to the wall and your cheeks are flushed and George is big mad. (When really, Fred just cornered them so they couldn't avoid the question and was teasing and asking about their crush on George). George ends up seeing out Y/n, getting them alone and confronting them. Light angst? But ends fluffy as reader explains what actually happened

*im going to keep updating this as I get more ideas so be prepared*

[georgeweasleysbiggestfan]

WHAT I THINK THE HP CHARACTERS WOULD BE LIKE IN AMONG US

GEORGE WEASLEY/forge

George and Fred always switch with each other, but george mains dark green with the dum sticky note, he does most of his tasks as cremates and checks cams a lot. only calls emergencies if needed, and is always the first to speak. as impostor he never uses vents and always kills in electrical. everyone always suspects him as impostor.

FRED WEASLEY/gred

Fred and george swap a lot, but fred mains lime green with dum sticky note just so it’s hard to tell them apart. he does 0 tasks as a crewmate, and just follows george around. he doesnt report bodies, he’ll just walk over them, and he always causes emergency meeting just cause “they sus”. as impostor he sticks with george still but george doesn’t rat him out, he a bit trigger happy and forgets to check if someone’s on cams or if someone was near there. he always uses george as an alibi but he’s pretty easy to guess.

LUNA LOVEGOOD/loona

Luna doesn’t main any colour, she’s happy with whatever she gets, but she prefers lighter colours like white, pink or cyan. She either has the flower hat on or the party hat because “it’s someone’s birthday somewhere.” she does all her tasks as crewmate and is always the person who finds the body. as impostor she is surprisingly sneaky, and uses vents really well. overall really hard to find and hard to suspect.

RON WEASLEY/krumfan

Ron is very adamant about getting orange and doesn’t wear a hat. He does some tasks as crewmate , but stalks people and then everyone gets suspicious of him and votes him out. he’s really bad at impostor, he always gets caught running from bodies cause he didn’t know you could move in vents. overall he’s just not good.

GINNY WEASLEY/gin

Ginny is a BEAST. She mains red with the bandana hat. She does all her tasks super quickly, is super competitive and always finds the impostor first. Nobody suspects her when she is impostor and always wins by killing everyone, and she always kills ron or harry first.

HARRY POTTER/chosen1

Harry mains yellow and the crown hat. He does all of his tasks and runs away from everyone he sees, thinks everyone is sus, and is just super paranoid. It is super obvious when he is impostor because he always vents in front of people by accident and kills on cams. He is super scared to kill anyone and gets angry when he dies.

HERMIONE GRANGER/mione

Hermione mains white or black, and uses the mini crewmate hat. She finishes all her tasks and helps Ron with his tasks, is pretty good at using logic to find the impostor, but is always killed early on. As impostor she is very smart about who she kills and where, but always gets randomly voted off.

DRACO MALFOY/purebl00d

Draco mains lime green with the black hat. He is really bad at the game to be honest, doesn’t do tasks, and kills people without thinking. Blaise and Pansy try to teach him but he is to stubborn to change how he plays.

PANSY PARKINSON/panso

Pansy mains purple with the balloon hat. She is surprisingly fun to play with and is really good at the game. Her and Ginny are the BEST impostors and kill so many people. She sabotages a lot. She does all her tasks as crewmate and stays in groups.

BLAISE ZABINI/BLAISE

Blaise mains black or dark green without a hat. He is super competitive and is really quiet. He always acts sus but not sus enough to get voted off, and is really hard to catch as impostor. He usually catches the impostor off tiny mistakes and helps win the game. He sabotages lights a lot.

PERCY WEASLEY/HeadBoy

The twins made Percy play a few times , so he used dark blue because it was the only colour left, and he used the halo hat. He was very bad, but he did all his tasks. He didn’t vent or kill at all as impostor.

[tmorriscode]

Time Of Your Life

(Hogwarts Mystery Crew, Ace!Charlie Weasley x Fem!MC)

Summary: All things end. All you can do is make the best of it.

Masterpost of all my imagines can be found by clicking on the link. 

—

It’s something unpredictable, but in the end is right. I hope you had the time of your life. - Good Riddance (Time of Your Life) Green Day

As best man, Charlie’s got duties to Bill that send him to The Burrow, while you go to stay with Rowan back at Khanna farms. Though he knows you have your brother’s emergency portkey, he dosen’t really relax until you show up with the rest of the old crew for Bill’s stag-do the night before the wedding.

He’d considered holding it at The Leaky, especially since Penny promised to supply everyone with her experimental hangover potion.

But after George came back from retrieving Harry minus an ear, Charlie and Bill both agree to move the events to the old quidditch pitch behind the house.

After you arrive, you take one look at George, and blurt out: “What in Merlin’s name happened to you?”

Everyone freezes for a moment at your tactless query. But then George is in rare form, laughing off his injury and making bad ear-related puns.

The story of the Battle of the Seven Potters takes on mythic proportions immediately. It leads to a contest to try to top one another for the wildest adventure.

The stories have grown in the telling since your Hogwarts days.

Remember that time Barnaby punched a centaur? Remember when Ben got possessed and tried to kill (Y/N)? Remember Tulip’s dungbombs? Remember when Penny talked you into impersonating Snape? Remember when Professor Kettleburn lost a Chimera? Remember how Tonks nearly killed Snape with a plant? Too bad she didn’t succeed, yeah? Remember when we battled nine You-Know-Who bogarts in the cursed vaults? No, a dozen! No, twenty!

Fred later retaliates for your comment about George by turning your hair an atrocious and virulent shade of red. Tonks shifts her hair into a color halfway between the Weasley red and Tulip’s hair color. Then Fred suggests that you all head up to the Burrow and tell mum that you’ve traded useless Percy for three girls. She’s always wanted daughters, right?

Bill stops you all by rightly pointing out that you’re all too drunk to be bothering your mum at the moment.

The rest of the night is kind of a blur. In the coming years, Charlie will wish he’d remembered more of it. None of you realize it, but it’s the last time that you are all together as a group.

You all sense that this night somehow closes the book on your childhood, though. There is a feel of desperately trying to grasp something elusive that slips through your hands like water. You all drink a little more, laugh a little louder, party a little harder to ignore the edge that underlies everything.

Dawn finds you all passed out like piles of dirty laundry across the property. Charlie awakens on the riverbank, looking up into the blinking, curious eyes of a river otter. He scrambles to his feet, shaking weeds out of his hair. He finds Andre asleep atop one of the quidditch goals. Barnaby and Rowan curled up in the old treehouse. Tulip and Lizard Tuttle (when did she get here?) feeding her frog. You and Penny and Ben already up and passing out potions.

You all down them, popping off to hastily get dressed and then rush back.

—

During the wedding, you sit between Luna Lovegood and Liz Tuttle. The two of them talk over your head about Crumple Horned Snorkacks and Thestrals and Nargles. You find yourself staring at Charlie the whole time.

“Definitely a nargle infestation,” Luna says to Lizard.

“Then she’s had them since fourth year,” Lizard says back.

“Lost cause, then.” Luna sighs.

You dance with Tonks then Bill and then Gred and Forge at the same time, and after that one of Fleur’s French cousins and Victor Dumb (but oh so pretty), and a Weasley cousin you’ve never met (who can’t keep his eyes off Ginny) before you get to dance with Charlie.

You don’t slow dance. That’s not your and Charlie’s style. Instead you have an animated conversation while the two of you shuffle around one another, dodging other dancers like they’re land-based bludgers and generally giving the impression that you’ll never slow down.

“Did you notice that Tonks isn’t drinking?” You whisper gleefully to him as you twirl into his arms. “Not last night, and not today.”

Charlie shoots a concerned look over your shoulder at Tonks where she’s dancing with Remus. The older man looks quite unhappy. “Surely they’re not?”

“In the pudding club?” You grin lopsidedly. “I think they might be.”

“Bad timing,”

“We were all born in the middle of the last war,” you whisper back. “The heart wants what it wants.”

“Your brother said that, too,” Charlie says.

“Must be where I got it from.”

“Auntie Muriel is in rare form,” Charlie changes the subject as he spins you behind his back. “She wants to know when I’m giving up the dragons and settling down with a nice girl.”

“Tell her you’re a lesbian.” You say.

“Not even remotely accurate.” Charlie rolls his eyes.

“Might give her a heart attack, though.” You say mischievously.

“You’re spending too much time with Tulip again.”

“Why dosen’t Your Aunt go pester your cousin?” You look over at the redhead kid you danced with earlier. Your toes will never be the same.

“Luv, that’s Harry.” Charlie whispers in your ear.

“Actual Harry Potter, or one of his six clones?”

“Yes, Actual Harry Potter,” Charlie rolls his eyes. “We didn’t want to make it obvious he was here.”

“Ah. His mooning over Ginny seems much less icky . . .”

Before you can finish your thought, the world as you know it ends.

You always thought the expression “deafening silence” was a funny one. How can silence deafen?

But when a lynx patronus drops into the midst of the dance floor, it’s like you lose all sense of hearing. Music, conversations, even rattling teacups stop. The world narrows to the glowing animal in your midst.

Kingsley’s voice issuing from the lynx isn’t loud. But at the same time it seems like it’s shouting into the sudden, silent void.

The ministry has fallen. The minister is dead. They’re coming.

The silence shatters, along with Auntie Muriel’s good China. Then there is the sound of people popping away, and of other, less welcome people popping in as the wards fail. And the mixed screams of dozens of spells, protective and less so.

“Go!” Charlie reaches for the portkey you’ve pinned in your hair.

“What about you?” You grab his wrist, halting him.

“I’m just some lowly dragon tamer expat. You’re the Cursebreaker Of Hogwarts.”

He’s so much more, but there’s no time to argue.

“Fine,” You mutter as you activate the portkey. “You better come home in one piece.”

“Promise,” Charlie says. It’s the last thing you hear, over the cacophony of battle.

Then you feel the pull of the portkey, and you’re suddenly standing ankle-deep in snow, shivering in a summer evening dress and sending off your horntail patronus to ask one of the other handlers to kindly come let you through the reserve’s wards before you freeze.

Charlie dosen't come back for two long, sleepless days. In that time you shovel every bit of dragon dung on the reserve, search unsuccessfully for Jacob, extract promises of help from the other keepers for when the time comes (for what, you’re not sure), and pull every fraying and broken string you have to get news from England.

When at last your dragon boy does limp back into camp, he’s sporting a black eye and a grim expression.

They let him go.

With eight (they think Ron is in bed with spattergroit) family members under their thumb, they can afford to let him leave the country, secure in the knowledge that he’ll do little to oppose them (or so they think).

Of your other friends, he can say precious little. Barnaby, Penny and Rowan were allowed to return to the tree farm as a sort of house arrest. (You don’t want to speculate, but you know Barnaby’s father was in You-Know-Who’s inner circle). Most of the others fled in the confusion, scattered to the four winds.

Harry and Ron and Hermionie got away, Merlin be praised.

Charlie spoons up to you that night, holding you like he’s afraid to lose you, too. Though you say nothing to one another, neither of you sleep. The first of many such nights.

You wonder how it is that you can live alongside the most terrifying beasts known to man, yet it’s a 70 year old wizard that keeps you up at night.

You wonder if you’ll ever feel safe again.

—

*Green Day released Good Riddance (Time Of Your Life) in October 1997, so it would have actually come out two months after the wedding at The Burrow. But the song is such an iconic piece in my mind for that time in history, and it so suited what I was going for with this story that I felt I had to allude to it.

It was written after one of the band members broke up with a girlfriend (hence the title, Good Riddance) but it’s came to be one of those songs that gets played at school graduations and dances, because it’s a bit of a reflective song about remembering good times.

In the context of this story, I like to think of the title Good Riddance less in terms of “I’m glad to be rid of you,” and more “I know things are ending. Let’s make this a Good Riddance.”

[nilempireshop]

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