#hphm albus dumbledore

[chocfrog-enjoyer]

Yeah Ben I think you defo could pull it off 👌

[hpshipbattles]

ROUND ONE SHIPS

(keep in mind these are all randomly created from a pool of 64 characters. we are not here to debate dark ships vs light ships, we are here for fun. Feel free to suggest ship names for anything you see)

Lysander Scamander x Remus Lupin (Remsander)

Augustus Rookwood x Elphias Doge (Rookdoge)

Pavarti Patil x Blaise Zabini (Blavarti)

Lorcan Scamander x Septimus Weasley (Septorcan)

Victoire Weasley x Cassandra Vole (Vicsandra)

Neville Longbottom x Severus Snape (Sneville)

Minerva McGonagall x Horace Slughorn (Wiseslug)

Hermione Granger x Cornelius Fudge (Fudgmione)

Nearly Headless Nick x Tom Marvolo Riddle (Brainteaser)

Penny Haywood x Fleur Delacour (Penfleur)

Ron Weasley x Petunia Evans (Rontunia)

Hannah Abbott x Kingsley Shacklebolt (Shacklebbott)

Rita Skeeter x Yann Fredericks (What if we just called these two Yeet?)

Dennis Creevey x Dolores Umbridge (Creevbridge)

Rowan Khanna x Dorcas Meadowes (Rorcas)

Nymphadora Tonks x Firenze the Centaur (Centonks)

James Potter x Marcus Flint (Jarcus)

Rose Granger-Weasley x Dobby the House Elf (Robby)

Delphi Riddle x Qui LeBlanc (Augurvamp)

Molly Weasley II x Barnaby Lee (Barnolly)

Luna Lovegood x Penelope Clearwater (Lovewater)

Harry Potter x Pansy Parkinson (Hansy)

Sebastian Sallow x Chiara Lobosca (Loballow)

Barty Crouch Jr. x Albus Dumbledore (Albarty)

Sirius Black x Tulip Karasu (Prankstar)

Lily Evans x Madam Rosmerta (Lilymerta)

Cho Chang x Helena Ravenclaw (Cholena)

Fabian Prewett x Grant Chapman (Grabian)

Hestia Jones x Regulus Black (Restia)

Draco Malfoy x Albus Severus Potter (Dralbus)

Lily Luna Potter x Scorpius Malfoy (Scorlily)

Lavender Brown x Percy Weasley (Paperseer)

My bad for jinxing us guys as I was spinning this I wondered if we were actually going to get Scorbus and then the wheel decided to do something funny. some of these ships are ships I’ve seen before and I was surprised by how many of them could probably actually be enjoyed by people. but yeah suggest ship names if you have any ideas I did put down the ship names for ones I knew or ones that I could easily come up with myself.

(rules and submitted characters)

[carewyncromwell]

"In my life I feel like a prisoner, in a light...

Are you feeling me?

'Cause the way you make my

Break my, shake my walls around,

I feel like I'm breaking out!

Show me your colors --

Show me your colors --

'Cause without you, I'm blue..."

~"Hurry Up and Save Me" by Tiffany Giardina

x~x~x~x

~Inspired by a concept by @ag907 💜~

In the story of Jacob and Carewyn Cromwell, the two siblings had to face a lot of tragedy in their lives. One of the single largest was the loss of Duncan Ashe, Jacob's first friend and love. But what if Duncan hadn't died prior to Jacob's expulsion? What if Duncan had been with Jacob, Peter Pettigrew, and Patricia Rakepick on that ill-fated jaunt to the Portrait Vault that resulted in Jacob's imprisonment? What if, after Rakepick's supposed "betrayal," he decided he'd force the Gringotts Cursebreaker to help him save Jacob from the Portrait Vault and R, by any means necessary? And what if Lane Cromwell and little nine-year-old Carewyn caught wind that the last person known to have been with Jacob before his disappearance was his now-graduated Slytherin classmate, Duncan Ashe?

x~x~x~x

The end of Duncan's Hogwarts career had been very turbulent. However he'd imagined ending his time at school, it certainly wouldn't have involved him becoming an Apprentice Cursebreaker at Gringotts under the tutelage of a R stooge he was currently blackmailing to keep from fleeing the country. It also hadn't included being alone at his graduation ceremony -- sure, he hadn't expected anything more than detached applause from his father and stepmother...but he'd always imagined Olivia and Jacob on either side of him, when he finally accepted his graduation scroll from Dumbledore. And he'd certainly not expected to exchange such a piercing look with the Headmaster while doing it.

"If I'm to help Jacob, then I need to know everything you know about the organization he joined, Duncan."

"I already told you, Jacob and I know next to nothing about R! Even those people who've joined it don't seem to know much about it, and they've done that on bloody purpose. I don't need your help, Professor -- I just need access to Hogwarts. Once I find the enchanted portrait again and break all the Vaults' curses in the proper order, I can save Jacob. I will save him and Olivia, damn whatever R might do."

"You might feel that way, Duncan...but as Hogwarts' Headmaster, I must care about what R might do. I won't hinder you from visiting Hogwarts, should you reach out to me -- but if you are to have free reign, you will have to convince both me and the Minister of Magic that you will not likewise give the Dark Wizards Jacob has aligned himself with access to my school and the students I protect. And you mustn't forget -- Jacob himself now poses a threat, with his own forced allegiance to R."

"...So you don't want Jacob to be free..if it means R could use him to hurt people?! Jacob would NEVER want to be with R -- he would fight them with everything in him, if he could! Whatever dark magic is in that mark they put on him, he'd be doing it against his will! Jacob would never -- !"

"I know. Truly, I do. But until R is rounded up and brought to justice, it sounds as though Jacob will still be a weapon they can use against others, whether he likes it or not. And Jacob is powerful and talented enough that he would be a very valuable weapon for such people. I don't like the situation, Duncan...but until the people holding Jacob's chains are dealt with...it may be safest for himself and others if he -- at least for the interim -- remains contained.”

His last conversation with the Hogwarts Headmaster played over Duncan's head off and on the last month, flooding the Slytherin alum with resentment and rage. It seemed to crop up most whenever he and Rakepick headed to work -- perhaps because just about every time they collided in the Leaky Cauldron, Rakepick would be shooting furtive looks over her shoulder, monitoring their surroundings.

"Take a chill pill," Duncan remarked once dryly as he walked through the brick wall into Diagon Alley, not even looking at her. "Are you expecting some knobhead in a red cloak to pop up in broad daylight?"

"Don't be a fool," Rakepick hissed back coldly.

The twenty-six-year old witch took another critical glance around as they walked side by side down the street.

"R is always watching, Duncan Ashe. Neither of us know the extent of their numbers -- even I can't assess who is a member and who isn't without touching them."

"Let 'em watch -- I don't care," scoffed Duncan. "They only really have the ability to threaten and coerce, to get their way. R has nothing I want, and what little family I do have they can threaten all they want."

Something darker passed over his face.

"I've already lost the two most important people in my life, thanks to them," he muttered. "They've lost all power they could have over me."

Rakepick's lips knit together grimly. She looked away.

"Don't underestimate just how much the wolves of R can take from you, Duncan Ashe," she said lowly. "They feed on far more than just physical flesh."

Duncan didn't answer. Instead he adjusted the collar of his dark green robes and started up the stairs of Gringotts bank.

"Did you track down the portrait yet?" he asked.

Rakepick scowled. "I checked Pettigrew's old flat, but it hasn't been touched since Black supposedly killed him, so it's not there. I frankly don't know where else he might've hidden it -- it's not like he has any friends left in the world, with him having to play dead. It's frankly a miracle I was able to pressure him to help us with the Vault in the first place..."

"If by 'help,' you mean leave us for dragon chow," Duncan said scornfully.

"Beggars can't be choosers, Mr. Ashe," Rakepick shot back coolly. "We needed at least four people if we were to fight a dragon. And I don't believe you, Jacob, or I were about to ask any of the Hogwarts faculty to help."

Duncan scowled, but otherwise dropped the issue.

"We'll have to keep looking, then. Even if we break the other Vaults' curses again in the proper order, it won't mean a thing, if we can't get back to the Portrait Vault..."

"Pettigrew and his little Hogwarts buddies had plenty of old hiding places back on the Hogwarts grounds," said Rakepick, and her lips actually quirked up with a cool smirk. "But I daresay Dumbledore will want a proper explanation for why my Apprentice Cursebreaker would want such unfettered access to the school and would demand proper oversight. The Minister and our Head Cursebreaker, as well."

Duncan shot her a glare.

"I may have been assigned to study under you, but don't forget my terms, Rakepick. I won't tell Dumbledore or anyone else about what you did to Jacob, but you need to help me set him free. Therefore I'm the one calling the shots -- don't you forget it."

"And don't you forget," Rakepick shot back just as coldly, "that you made those terms out of desperation, since the only other great wizard offering you help is more interested in dealing with R, not the Vaults. Without me, you'll never save Jacob."

Almost as soon as the two entered the bank, they were flagged down by Griphook. Rather than give them an assignment as they expected, however, the goblin looked rather critical as he handed a sealed envelope to Duncan.

"A 'Lane Cromwell' sent this to the bank very early this morning for you," he said irritably. "She did not have your current address, so she followed up here instead."

Both Duncan and Rakepick stiffened sharply at the sound of the name.

"Cromwell..." murmured Rakepick.

"I initially thought to dispose of it -- after all, I am no owl, and if the woman had any friendship with you, I would think she'd already know you've been renting a bed at the Leaky Cauldron for the last two months," Griphook said stiffly as he handed the letter to Duncan and then crossed his arms. "But thinking it could be business-related, I thought best to let you deal with the initial letter, and then only burn any subsequent ones she might try to send through me."

He was tapping his long-nailed fingers beside his forearm, seemingly awaiting an explanation. Duncan looked from the letter to up at Griphook and tried to compose himself.

"Sorry. Yes, I...I'll deal with it at once. Thank you."

Griphook gave a sniff and then trudged back toward his desk.

Duncan looked back down at the envelope warily. Written in very neat, but slightly shaky handwriting in dark blue ink were the words:

Duncan Ashe

Gringotts Bank

Diagon Alley, London

The envelope was not the sturdy, wizarding parchment variety, closed with a wax seal. Instead it was very thin and made of simple white paper: a standard Muggle-produced envelope.

Just like Jacob used to use...

Duncan could feel Rakepick watching him. Stubbornly ignoring her, he ripped the envelope open and read the note inside.

Flat 13, 43 Harrison Way

Liverpool

Dear Mr. Ashe,

We have never met, but I'm Jacob Cromwell's mother. I understand you and my son knew each other at school.

At your earliest convenience, I should dearly like to know about your last interactions with Jacob, prior to his disappearance. If a private in-person meeting could be arranged, I am available on weekends. You will need to use the Knight Bus or careful Apparition, however, as my home is in a Muggle district and my fireplace is not connected to the Floo Network. If you'd prefer to simply give me a written account, I'm willing to accommodate, but please expect follow-up questions by Owl Post, preferably at your home address. Slytherin's new Head of House Severus Snape didn't have anything on file for you aside from your family's address, but he signaled you were unlikely to still be there after your graduation.

Hope this finds you well.

Lane Cromwell

"Well?" said Rakepick.

Duncan read the letter a few more times, considering the words carefully as he swallowed.

He hadn't reached out to Jacob's mother at all after what happened. How could he? He felt guilty enough about what happened, and he didn't know the woman at all -- how could he even begin to explain everything he, Jacob, and Olivia had kept under wraps so long? It had been their secret, their goal -- even now that everything had gone so out-of-control, it was hard to reach out for help with it. Especially when Dumbledore flat-out admitted he thought it'd be too dangerous to set Jacob free as long as R still existed and had power over him...

That, and...Duncan knew how much Jacob loved his mother. Not just her, but his little sister, Carewyn. Jacob's love for his sister overwhelmed just about everything else. It had been Carewyn's life being threatened that had scared Jacob so much. It had been Rakepick saving Carewyn that had coaxed Jacob to trust her, only for Rakepick to end up being part of R too. It was Carewyn, and to a lesser extent his mother, that made Jacob do as R said...made him not just run away and change his name and start a new life in freedom far away from R and their threats, the way Duncan had thought they could...

It was Carewyn -- and Lane -- that Duncan knew Jacob would always choose. Over his own safety, over his own life...over any kind of future with Duncan.

Resentment twinged in his mouth as he bit the inside of his cheek.

Rakepick said Jacob's grandfather has links to R, he thought. Anything I might write could get intercepted...knowing them, they probably have Jacob's flat under surveillance, so they'd know if I visited too...

He reread Lane's letter one more time.

Her "L's" had the exact same swirling flourish that Jacob's did.

His eyes narrowed as he finally lowered the letter.

"We're going to meet her," he said brusquely.

Rakepick was taken aback. "What?"

"Jacob's mother wants to meet me to talk about Jacob. You're coming with me."

Rakepick gave something of an shocked, offended cough.

"Have you lost your senses completely?" she demanded. "R explicitly instructed me not to go anywhere near Jacob's family! If you or I made any contact with them, then R would retaliate against both us and them -- "

"'Beggars can't be choosers,' isn't that what you said?" Duncan recurred very dryly.

He folded up Lane's letter and put it into his robes. Rakepick's eyes flashed.

"R already tried to hurt Carewyn Cromwell once," she hissed at him. "I know -- I was there -- "

"Good," Duncan shot back. "Then you can Apparate me cleanly over to their Muggle neighborhood without us being seen."

"If I hadn't turned against my companions that day, then Jacob's sister would've been crippled or worse!" said Rakepick, and her cold, angry voice betrayed the very slightest strain. "She and her mother have already been emotionally destroyed by his disappearance. Do you truly think that Jacob would want you putting his sister in R's cross-hairs again by doing this? Do you have no moral compunctions, putting the most important people in Jacob’s life -- one of them a nine-year-old child -- on the front lines?"

Duncan met her glare head-on.

"'They've already been destroyed by Jacob's disappearance?'" he repeated accusingly. "Then you've already seen them."

Rakepick flinched. Then her eyes narrowed.

"Only Carewyn," she murmured. "And only from afar."

"Well, I’m not such a coward," said Duncan. His own voice was sharper now, more confrontational. “If you want to talk about moral compunctions, how do you justify refusing to face the family of the bloke you got trapped in a portrait?”

Rakepick’s face was almost forcibly stoic, but she could offer no verbal response. Duncan turned his back on her.

“I need a way back into Hogwarts and into the Cursed Vaults. Maybe some angry mother yanking at his beard will make Dumbledore reconsider his stance.”

[eliaswoodt]

Hyp-o-crite

[indigobackfire]

Memes for the professors

[rewritingcanon]

which sibling dynamic be reminding you of daylight by david kushner? i honestly think it could fit ANYTHING

[nicos-oc-hell]

Who’s Goddamn White Uncle Is That?

Inspired by a conversation @rosachaotic, @magicapandora and I had back when the hphm MC’s dad was revealed and since I already had established dads for my ocs, i made him one of the many uncles that are in an Italian mafia family. This story is an expanded/continuation of what I had originally posted on here.

Summary of the series: In the forest in 6th year when Rakepick ambushes Barnaby, Dimitri, Rowen and Rowan, Rowan takes the spell that was meant for Rowen and falls into a coma. Follow Dimitri as he tries to get his magic back as it was stripped from him when his uncle, Arthur, came and gave Dumbledore permission to put magic dampeners on him. It’s a wild ride, Arthur & Dumbledore are pieces of shit, Dimitri stoops very low to get his magic back and hurts others in the process.

French is in bold italics, Thoughts are in italics

It was like time was moving in slow motion when a green spell shot out towards Rowen Khanna from the tip of Patricia Rakepick’s wand. Without hesitation Rowen’s twin sister, Rowan Khanna, and his best friend, Dimitri Di Angelo, both went separate ways. Dimitri tackled Rakepick to the ground while Rowan managed to tackle her brother to the ground. The two of them were laying on the ground for a few moments before Dimitri picked his head up with a huge grin on his face as he was listening out for Rowen’s heartbeat.

“Thank god, you are ok my friend.” Dimitri’s smooth accent came out with a slight strain as Rakepick was struggling beneath him. He muttered his own spell and Rakepick was suddenly not moving any more. The smile dropped off of his face with a cock of his head as saw that Rowen did not share the same look as him but rather one of sorrow. “Roe? Are you alright?”

Dimitri quickly noticed that two of the five heartbeats in the clearing were steady as if the people weren’t just in a battle. He knew one was Rakepick as he had magically knocked her unconscious but he couldn’t identify who the second one was. Dimitri quickly scrambled to his feet and rushed over to where the twins were still on the ground. He quickly turned Rowan over so she was no longer face down on Rowen and immediately started looking for the source of the glassy look and slow heartbeat.

A lot happened at once, Dimitri and Barnaby were panicking over Rowan not responding to any stimuli while Rowen was trying to slap Rakepick awake. “Wake up! Wake the hell up! Dimitri, cancel the damn spell!” Smoke was starting to rise out of Rakepick’s clothes from where Rowen was gripping her robes. Barnaby ran over to Rowen and yanked him up off of Rakepick while sending sparks up into the air to alert anyone who was near. Rowen immediately starts struggling against Barnaby trying to get back to trying to set Rakepick on fire.

“Calm down, Rowen!” Barnaby shouted while twisting Rowen’s arms behind his back.

“Calm down?! CALM DOWN?! She did something to my sister and she will pay for it!” Rowen started to breathe very heavily with sparks coming out of his hands from his magic starting to get out of control. Suddenly his heartbeat dropped back to its normal pace, his head dropped down and he became dead weight from the quick spell Dimitri threw his way.

Dimitri turned around with Rowan in his arms and casted Leviosa on Rakepick’s body, he motioned for Barnaby to stand up with Rowen then walked away to the path back to Hogwarts.

Dimitri sat next to Rowan passed out while holding her hand in a tight grip pushing as much of his sun flames as he could. He was passed out for about a good hour before Snape had come and dragged him out of the Hospital Wing so that he could go to class. It was futile as Dimitri passed out in the middle of charms class as he had basically drained his magical core in the short two hours, he was with Rowan in the Hospital Wing.

A short while later, Dimitri woke up to low voices talking above him. He slowly opened his eyes and hissed at the bright light that hit his eyes the second he had opened them. He put his forearm over his eyes and noticed the tube in his arm after it had touched his face. “1, why is there a tube in my arm? 2, when did I get here?” Dimitri asked, taking his arm off of his face and sat up while rubbing his eyes.

Snape turned his head towards Dimitri then flicked his eyes up to above Dimitri’s head. “You’ve been here for about two hours. This is why you don’t overexert your magic, Mr. Di Angelo. It is a very dangerous thing especially for two hours straight.” Dimitri glared over at Snape with a quick sarcastic smile, he took the offered glass of water from Dumbledore and sniffed the drink before he took a sip of it. “The tube is to get fluids into your bloodstream as we can’t force anything down your throat.” Dimitri instinctively tilted his head to the side with an amused smile and Snape glared at him as soon as he noticed it.

Dimitri started looking around the room before his eyes landed on an unfamiliar face, “Who in the hell is that?” He asked, nodding his head towards the tall blonde man behind Snape. Dumbledore stepped in front of the blondie and Dimitri immediately rolled his eyes at the fact that Dumbledore was now in his direct line of sight.

“Dimit-”

“Mr. Di Angelo” Dimitri injected before Dumbledore could get the rest of his name out. “If you’re gonna lecture me, I’d rather you not try and sound like my disappointed nonno while you do it.”

He noticed the tick in Dumbledore’s jaw before he spoke again, “Mr. Di Angelo, what you did was not only dangerous but it could have lasting effects on not only your magical core but also your body. You need to realize that your actions have cons-” Dumbledore was cut off again by Dimitri rolling his eyes and moving his hand in a way a child does whenever they are mocking someone behind their back. Dimitri silently yanked the tube out of his arm and slashed his arm in a way where the person it was directed at would be pushed out of the way by a gust of air. That is when he finally noticed the metal cuffs on his wrist with the lack of a chain between them.

Dimitri opened his mouth but no words came out as he tried to put together while he had cuffs on. He let out a little laugh before he turned his attention back to Dumbledore, “Sir with all the disrespect in the world, don’t try to fucking lecture me on the fact that I’m trying to help my friend, whom as you may notice, “ He mumbled something underneath his breath that faintly sounded like probably not you useless sack of shit, “is in a coma. I don’t particularly care about ‘potentially damaging my magical core’ if it means that I can see my friend make it out of her coma.” He pointed at the man who had side stepped Dumbledore and was staring at Dimitri as if he had seen a ghost.

“You have quite the mouth on you young man.”

Dimitri held his hand out and just stared at Snape with his head fully tilted to the side. “Why has nobody answered my question on who the random white man is! He’s looking at me like it’s the first time he’s seen me in decades.” The man had finally stepped forward to introduce himself and held his hand out towards Dimitri, who just stared at the hand until the man retracted.

“My name is Arthur, I’m your uncle and your father has sent me to look after you while you recover as I’m the only one who can use wizard magic.” The man, Arthur, stated with a tight smile as he waited for the explosive reaction he was guaranteed was going to happen from the look on Dimitri’s face. Yet Dimitri just scoffed and rolled his eyes while muttering something underneath his breath. “Per your father’s request, I am to stay here until you are able to be by yourself.”

“You mentioned my father…which one are you referring to when you say that? Giotto or Sora?”

The man hesitated for a second because he wasn’t aware that the boy considered both of the brothers as his father. “Uh Giotto?”

“That man is not my father and you will not refer to him as such. He is a disgrace to the family. Also,” He turned his head back to Snape and Dumbledick who were standing next to each other watching their interaction, “This is a white man. A WHITE man, now while both my father and uncle look white they are in fact asian with a quarter of white in them, this man could not possibly be my uncle. My dad’s side of the family is Asian and Italian, he sounds like a fucking American. I know Hogwarts has some pretty shitty security but honestly you should’ve spotted this shit from a mile away.” Dimitri threw his hands in the air with an exasperated look on his face. He looked back at Arthur in disgust and muttered something underneath his breath that only Snape could hear as he was standing directly above him.

Arthur's jaw was clenched by the time Dimitri had finished his rant about him being a white American. He walked over to Dimitri, leaned down and started to whisper something in French in his ear. “Just because I am an adult, it does not mean I won’t smack the everloving shit out of you and make you have the face only a mother could love. I may be an American, I may be white but you will treat me with the respect that you show the others in the family. You hear me, Boy?” Dimitri just raised an eyebrow before he turned away from the man with a muttered you smell like onions and garlick. “You are a little shit, you know that right. Giotto should have raised you better than this.”

Dimitri pushed himself up off the bed and shoved past Dumbledore who was trying to stop him from leaving. He ignored the shouts from Dumbledore and Snape while walking up the stairs, if it was a cartoon, he would have steam rising out of his ears from how angry he was.

[dorelia23]

I haven't finished the Black sisters' tlsq yet, I'm still listening to Dumbledore talking about Bellatrix and thought, what if her password is Toujours Pur 👀

[mizutoyama]

The Smell of Success

A/N: This is my entry for @hp-12monthsofmagic April prompt "I Solemnly Swear That I Am Up to No Good".

Despite her strict upbringing, Tulip Karasu had always been a free spirit at heart. Her parents' rigid rules and expectations had only served to fuel her rebellious nature, which she had managed to keep hidden from them for years. However, as Tulip grew older, it became increasingly difficult for her to keep up the façade of the obedient daughter they wanted her to be. When she finally received her letter from Hogwarts, it was as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Freedom would soon be hers. Her time to shine and show her true nature would finally come.

However, she had no idea that pulling pranks at Hogwarts would not be as easy as she expected. She had to be very careful not to get caught by anyone, especially Argus Filch, Hogwarts' caretaker, who seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to detecting pranks. He was always lurking around the corners, keeping a close eye on her every move. It was as if he knew she was up to something, and anytime she tried to place one of her Dungbombs or Stink Pellets, there he was, staring at her. It was frustrating for her because she had to constantly watch her back and make sure that she wasn't caught. If it wasn't him, it was his cat, Mrs. Norris, who was always there to ruin her plans. These two were quite the anti-prank pair, making it even harder for her to execute her prank.

In fact, this constant supervision had given her an idea. Having bought all the Dungbombs and Stink Pellets she could at Gambol and Japes Wizarding Joke Shop, she was getting ready to pull off what was in her 11-year-old mind, the ultimate prank. She had to be very careful when acquiring those smelly pranks in Diagon Alley, ensuring her parents remained none the wiser. Her initial plan had just been to plant one here and there as minor stinky pranks, but with Filch's constant presence, she decided she would use them all at once. If she was going to get caught, might as well go out with a bang. The biggest of bangs. The stinkiest of bangs.

For this prank to even happen, she first needed to make sure Filch would not catch her prepping it. Being punished for an attempted prank would feel like a failure compared to being punished for a successful one. So, the first thing she had to do was figure out Filch's habits, like when he took a tea break, which area he tended to patrol at what time, did he ever sleep, etc. That was a challenge as she had to remain inconspicuous so as to not raise Filch's suspicion. This took longer than she expected, but she ended up with a schedule detailed enough to know when to put in place the elements of her plan.

The next step in her plan was to carefully consider the timing and location of her prank. She knew that the best options were either during breakfast or dinner when there would be the most people around to witness her masterful work. After careful consideration, she ultimately decided to go with breakfast. Not only did this allow her to potentially cause a stir and get classes cancelled for the day, but there would be fewer professors in the Great Hall at that time, thereby reducing the chances of getting caught. She understood that a good prank required planning and timing and felt she had made the right choice.

Once she had everything she needed to prepare her prank, she decided it was time to set it up using the cover of darkness to her advantage. Thankfully, her roommates were mostly heavy sleepers, except perhaps for that girl who was prone to nightmares about her brother, who had reportedly joined forces with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, according to some Slytherins. Although Tulip had her doubts about whether this girl would notice her absence, she took precautions by placing pillows under her covers to make it appear as though someone was still in the bed. Making sure not to make any noise as she left, she sneaked outside of the empty common room.

Avoiding Filch was no easy feat, but Tulip managed to do so with great care. She tiptoed through the Great Hall, her eyes scanning the area for the best locations to hide her collection of Dungbombs and Stink Pellets. She kept only one Dungbomb with her, as it would be the one to start the chain reaction that would cause chaos throughout the castle. Tulip had placed a Dungbomb right under the chair of the Potions Master, ensuring that he would be caught in the midst of the stench. The sleeping inhabitants of the castle were blissfully unaware of the malodorous morning that awaited them, but Tulip knew that it would be a day they would never forget. Her work done for the night, she retreated to the comfort of her bed with a sense of excitement and anticipation.

The following day, she made her way to the Great Hall with a visible glint in her eyes and a spring in her step. This was the day she would go down in Hogwarts' history as the greatest prankster this school had ever known. Sitting down at her usual spot at Ravenclaw's table, she could hardly contain her excitement, tapping her feet and fidgeting with her spoon. As she waited for more students to arrive, Tulip couldn't help but feel a bit nervous. What if her plan didn't work? What if she got caught? But she quickly shook these thoughts away, reminding herself that she had been planning this prank for weeks and it was going to be perfect.

Finally, once she figured most students were there, she bent under the table, pretending to look for something. She threw her Dungbomb toward one of the Stink Pellets and flicked her wand toward a Dungbomb hidden under the Slytherin table. The effect was instantaneous. Within seconds, the Great Hall was filled with the rancid smell of the Dungbombs and Stink Pellets, causing the students to cough and gag. Even Professor Snape, known for his stoic demeanour, was waving his arms around and trying to get the smell away from him, looking like a giant bat trying to fly away.

The chaos was absolute as students ran out of the Great Hall, coughing and wiping their teary eyes. Tulip followed them, partly to avoid looking suspicious but also because even she had been affected by the overpowering stench that was now stinging her eyes. As she stepped out into the Entrance Hall, she couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction. She had done it! She had pulled off the greatest prank in Hogwarts' history!

However, her satisfaction was short-lived as she saw Dumbledore, the Headmaster, come running down the Grand Staircase. He stood at the entrance of the Great Hall, and, with a simple flick of his wand, the putrid smell disappeared, allowing the students to finally breathe in some odourless air. Tulip was slightly disappointed that her prank had been ended so easily and that there hadn't been more chaos. On the other hand, even if Filch was eyeing her as if he knew she was the perpetrator of the prank, it seems no one knew who had started it, and there was no evidence left to point out a suspect.

While this was not the great prank she thought it would be, she couldn't help but feel proud that she still had managed to pull this off without being caught. As she walked away from the Great Hall, she couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and anticipation for what other pranks she could pull off in the future.

Unbeknownst to her, a Slytherin girl with striking purple eyes had seen what she had done but had decided to keep it to herself. She knew that having an ally like Tulip, who was willing to take risks and push boundaries, would be invaluable in her search for the Cursed Vaults.

[vastly-fixated-devotee-667]

new headcanon hagrid has a massive crush on dumbledore

[the-al-chemist]

Artemis Hexley and the Return to the Riddles

Chapter 23: The Truth

A/N: with Dumbledore’s help, Artemis uses her mother’s gift to help her find the answers she seeks, but they may not be the answers she wants… Warnings: This one gets dark. Very dark. Scenes and mentions of intrigue, violence, death, murder, child endangerment, child neglect.

Green flames engulfed Artemis as she and Professor Dumbledore stepped into one of the gilded fireplaces on the right side of the atrium of the Ministry of Magic. Once the flames had died down, the room outside had changed; she was back at Hogwarts, in the headmaster’s office. 

Dumbledore stepped out of the fireplace and across the office to a tall cabinet. He opened its doors to reveal a wide, shallow stone dish engraved with runic symbols and filled with a silvery liquid. A blue-ish glow radiated from it and illuminated his face.

"You have seen this before, if I remember correctly," Dumbledore said. Artemis nodded her head, her hand still gripped tightly around the vial she had thrown into the fountain almost a year previously.

"It's your Penseive. You use it to help you with all your thoughts."

"Precisely. A Pensieve allows you to deposit and keep hold of memories and streams of consciousness, to review and organise at your will. This particular Pensieve is not simply mine, however. It is the property of the Headmaster or Headmistress of Hogwarts, and has therefore belonged to every witch or wizard who has held this position, and every witch or wizard who ever shall. It contains centuries' worth of collective wisdom and knowledge." Dumbledore's eyes caught the light of the Pensieve, looking bluer than ever before. He smiled before continuing, "Between this, Kingsley Shacklebolt's investigation, and the research of both your brother and Madam Rakepick, I daresay that I have been privy to more information than almost anyone about the Cursed Vaults and the group that calls themselves…"

"R."

"R, The Ronde, the cabal. They are all the same, as you know. I believe that by now, you must also know who created the Cursed Vaults."

"Morgan Le Fay," answered Artemis. "I learnt that from the centaurs and from Merlin's portrait. She discovered a great power, and made the Vaults to keep it safe, but then she turned to dark magic. That's why she added all the curses. But-"

"And you also know of Madame Fortinbras, the professor who created the Ronde and was their first leader?" Artemis nodded and opened her mouth to speak, but Dumbledore hadn't finished with his questions. "Artemis, do you know who was the most recent leader of the Ronde?"

"Merula's aunt. Madam Buckthorn. She stopped us by the lake."

Dumbledore shook his head.

"No," he said. "Madam Buckthorn may have been the director of R, but rather than being its leader, she acted more as the caretaker of the group in the absence of a leader."

"Oh, yeah. They wanted me to lead them because of the prophecy, the one Charlie and I stole from the Department of Mysteries." Artemis bit her lip and turned to Dumbledore to add, "Um, can you forget that I said that last part?"

"I'm afraid that my hearing is not what it once was, Miss Hexley, and I did not quite catch the last few words of what you said," said Dumbledore, but his lips twitched as if he had indeed heard and was amused by it. "Was it only you that the prophecy spoke of?"

"Well, not exactly. It just said Hexley on it, so it could've been about me or Jacob. But I picked it up, and Olivia Green said only the person a prophecy is about can do that, so it must have been about me and not Jacob all along."

"Yes and no. I'm afraid that while you are correct in some respects, you are entirely wrong in others."

"What do you mean?"

"Prophecies are fickle and endlessly cryptic things, Miss Hexley. The one of which you speak may have been about you or Jacob - or indeed, several others over the course of the centuries - but by the time you came to pick it up, certain events had occurred and created the circumstances by which the prophecy became about you," Dumbledore told Artemis, who was no less mystified than before. "The prophecy speaks of an heir, one descended from Morgan Le Fay herself, and born at the start of a new season. Professor Fortinbras thought herself the heir described in the prophecy, but it could have been any other person who meets these two criteria. The most recent leader of the Ronde thought that they themselves might be the one, until your brother came along."

"I don't-"

"You will understand once you have seen the contents of that vial you hold in your hand. You see, that bottle contains memories. The memories of two people who were at one time very closely connected with the leader of the Ronde."

Artemis frowned. "But my mother said that what was inside this was half mine."

"It is. But we will revisit your memories later. First, you must go back further." Dumbledore gestured from the vial to Pensieve and told her, "Go on. Take a look."

Not really sure what she was expecting to happen, Artemis pulled the stopper from the vial and tipped its contents into the Pensieve, which began to swirl faster and glow more brightly than before. As it did so, she could see something moving inside, a shadow or a person, and she rose onto her tiptoes and leaned forward to take a closer look. 

She must have leaned too far, however, because a moment later, the ground beneath her gave a sudden lurch and she found herself falling - or perhaps being pulled - down into the Pensieve, which was far darker and colder than she had imagined it would be.

When she stopped falling, she found herself standing not in Dumbledore's office, but another room entirely. Like the office, the room had high ceilings and walls lined with books, but it was rectangular and far larger than the headmaster's office. It was filled with people, most of whom were reading or writing quietly, and all of whom were around her age or younger. It was a school library, she realised, but not that of Hogwarts, for the walls were of red brick rather than sandstone, and the students wore uniforms of blue and burgundy, not black.

"Excuse me," Artemis said to one of the students, who did not respond. She spoke louder. "Hello? Where is this?"

But the student clearly couldn't hear her, even though the library was silent. Almost silent, anyway. Two girls her own age were giggling quietly as they took books from one of the shelves and pretended to read them, all the while watching a wizard in the far corner of the room who was sitting at a desk all alone, and not wearing a uniform. Artemis wandered over to them so she could hear their hushed conversation.

"Whatever he's working on must be awfully important," said one of the girls, in an accent Artemis recognised as being American. "I've only ever seen him in the library. He's never once eaten in the hall - I'm not even sure he does eat - or anywhere else around the grounds, either. He just stays in here."

"Maybe he can't leave. Perhaps he's a vampire," whispered the second girl, and the first gasped quietly.

"Or maybe he's working on something so top secret and important that he's not even permitted to leave his desk even to have a meal."

Behind them, a third girl with her back to them shook her head, her long dark hair brushing the small of her back as it moved from side to side. She turned away from the bookshelf and joined them, a daring smile playing on her face, which was pretty and somehow familiar to Artemis, though she was not sure how.

"If you're so intrigued, why don't you go over there and ask him?" suggested the girl, raising a single eyebrow at her peers, who both blushed and shook their heads. She rolled her large hazel eyes dramatically. "Fine, then. If you two are too chicken, I'll go over and talk to him."

"But he never speaks to anyone!"

"Well, maybe he'll speak to me."

With an air of confidence, the girl pushed her dark hair back behind her shoulders and looked determinedly at the wizard on the far side of the library. Artemis frowned. She really did look familiar, as if she ought to recognise her. It was only once the girl started to walk away from her friends and straight past Artemis as if she hadn't even seen her standing there that she realised who she was.

"Ma?"

The girl who looked so much and yet not at all like Sara Hexley strode across the library in the direction of the lone wizard, Artemis following behind her, unseen and uncomprehending. As they reached the wizard, Artemis' mother leant against his desk next to him and cleared her throat. The wizard looked up at her. Now that Artemis could see his face, it was clear that he was a few years older than the students in the library. He had untidily cropped brown hair, brown eyes with a distinct ring of green around the pupil, and a face that again was distantly recognisable.

"Dad?"

"May I help you?" asked the wizard Artemis assumed must be her father, his clipped voice so contrasting with those of the girls she had listened to on the other side of the library.

"Actually, yes," Artemis' mother answered, before Artemis had a chance to speak. "My friends over there were just wondering who you are and what it is you're studying so hard that none of us have ever seen you outside of the library since you first showed up here."

"If your friends are so curious to know, why didn't they come here and ask me themselves?"

"They're  too nervous."

"I see," Leander Hexley raised his eyebrows. "You're less easily scared."

Sara shrugged. "I was junior state champion for duelling last year. It takes a lot more than some Brit with a pile of textbooks to scare me. No offence."

"None taken," said Artemis' father. "My name is Leander Hexley. I work for the British Ministry of Magic, in the Department of Mysteries."

"So, you're an international man of mystery, huh?"

"I suppose that I am."

"And what brings you to Ilvermorny Academy?"

"I'm afraid that I'm not actually allowed to talk about my work."

"Even if I promise to keep a secret?"

"You just said that your friends sent you over here to find out."

"I can make something up to tell them," Sara smiled sweetly, tilting her head to one side. "Go on. Your secret's safe with me."

As if he could tell that it was pointless to argue, Leander sighed. "Very well. I'm conducting research into Wampus cats."

"Why?"

"Too help us gain more insight into the process of thought, particularly in respect to the skill - or art, depending how you look at it - of Legilimency." Sara scowled at Leander's words, and he frowned before asking her, "You take offence at the idea?"

"You would too if your mother was a Legilimens," said Sara, and Leander's eyebrows shot upwards. She exhaled softly through her nose, her scowl softening. "Natural born, and no, I didn't inherit it. Apparently it can skip a generation or something."

"So I've heard. That must be frustrating."

"It can be. Means I've gotten pretty good at Occlumency, though." Sara shrugged again. "Hey, you know, I don't mind helping out with anything, if you..."

Leander Hexley bowed his head, smiling to himself. "That's very kind of you... Ah. What did you say your name was?"

"I didn't. But it's Sara. Sara Kowalski. But most people just call me Sally."

The library began to swirl around Artemis, and the scenery shifted. She was now standing outside in the sunshine, in a garden that she immediately recognised as that of her great-aunt and uncle in Dorset. Leander was sporting dress robes, his arm around Sara's waist. She was smiling broadly, her spare hand resting on the gentle bulge of her stomach that was poorly hidden below her white dress.

The world swirled again, and Artemis was now standing in the hallway of  the dark narrow house in Lovelace Crescent, her mother at her side. Sara was leaning against the frame of the door that led into the sitting room, where Leander was kneeling beside a small dark-haired boy, whose eyebrows were deeply furrowed in confusion.

"That puzzle is too hard for him," said Sara, folding her arms across her chest. "He's not even nine years old yet, Leander."

"He's advanced for his age," her husband replied, not looking up from the parchment he held in front of his son. "He needs to be challenged. We're raising a genius, Sally. Just think, in few years time he'll be off to school, and they won't won't know what's hit them."

He ruffled Jacob's hair and handed him the parchment, before standing up and walking across to his wife and daughter, though he behaved as if Artemis was not even there. Sara uncrossed her arms and wrapped them around him, leaning her head against his chest as she continued to watch her son.

"It'll be so quiet when he goes," she murmured. She turned her face up to her husband and told him: "We should have another one."

"We don't need another one."

"Who said anything about needing? I want another one."

More swirling, another scene, another room. Artemis’ mother's room. The scene was altogether more familiar; Sara Hexley sitting in her bed, alone. Except, she wasn't alone, for in her arms she held a baby, her forehead resting against its crown, murmuring softly to it. Artemis swallowed and stepped closer. Was that...

The bedroom door burst open, and little Jacob Hexley ran into the room, leaping up onto the bed and landing right next to his mother.

"Careful," said Sara. "You don't want to hurt your sister."

"But I wanted a brother."

"You don't get to choose," Sara laughed. "Here. You can hold her if you like." She passed the baby to Jacob and put her arm around him, repositioning his arms with her now free hands. "Jacob, this is Artemis."

Jacob blinked at the baby Artemis in his arms. "She's so little."

"I know, that's why you have to be careful. You have to look after babies, be good to them and protect them. You can do that, can't you?"

"I think so."

"I think so, too. You're clever and strong, like a big brother should be."

The baby who would eventually become Artemis herself reached up, and Artemis watched her mother place her brother's little finger into her palm. Jacob smiled and nodded his head.

"You're right. I am both of those things," he said, and Sara laughed as she placed a kiss on both her children's heads.

Artemis stepped forward, longing to join the three of them, but as she did, the scene shifted once more. Sara held a slightly older baby Artemis on her lap, reading from an open book. From outside the room came the sound of raised voices, and she paused frowning. She closed the book, and stood up, still holding her daughter, and walked towards the study, from which Jacob ran out, his face red with anger and wet with tears.

"I hate you!" he shouted back into the room. 

"Hey," said Sara, bouncing the now crying Artemis on her hip in what seemed like a pointless attempt to soothe her. "Don't say things like that."

Jacob slammed the door and ran up the stairs.

"Jacob! Come back down here and apologise to your father."

But Jacob kept running, both he and his sister clearly inconsolable.

The world shifted once more, and Artemis was no longer in the house at all, but standing on the platform of  a train station. The air around her was smoky and filled with the sound of children shouting and owls screeching, and a red engine stood waiting on the tracks. Sara, Jacob, and a little dark-haired girl who looked far more like herself than the baby from the previous memories were gathered on the platform. 

"I'm sorry your father couldn't come to say goodbye," Sara said as she released her son from a tight embrace. Jacob shook his head.

"I didn't want him to come anyway."

"Jacob..."

"It's true, Ma. I don't want him here, or anywhere near us." He exhaled, and looked around himself before pulling his mother back into another hug, whispering into her ear. Artemis leaned in closer to hear what he was saying. "Ma, you don't know him. You can't trust him, you mustn't trust him. Not with yourself, and definitely not with Missy."

"Honey, you're-"

"I mean it, Ma. Please, be careful," said Jacob. He bent down to hug the smaller Artemis, whose eyes were filled with tears. He ruffled her hair. "There's no point telling you to be careful, is there?" He crouched down as a tear rolled down Artemis' face. "I'll be back at Christmas, and I'll write to you every week until then."

"Why can't I come with you? I want to go, too."

"You will one day, Missy. Take care of mum while I'm gone."

With one last pointed look at his mother, Jacob stood up and walked away down the platform. As the train whistle blew, the scene in front of Artemis dissolved into the steam and faded to black. She felt herself turn in the air, and when her feet hit the ground, she was standing back in the headmaster's office, with Dumbledore at her side.

"What.. What was that?" she stammered.

"Memories," replied Dumbledore. "Your mother's memories."

"But why?"

"Clearly, she thought that you deserved to know the truth as much as I do."

"The truth about what?" Artemis looked at the pensieve, her eyebrows furrowing deeply. "Jacob... He said she couldn't trust our Dad."

"He did."

"And our dad... He'd be a direct descendant of Morgan le Fay too, wouldn't he?

"He would."

"He was the leader of R, wasn't he? Before he died?"

"He was," Dumbledore inclined his head. "However, he must have at some point discovered that he was not the heir of which the prophecy speaks. Whether that occurred before or after he journeyed to America, I am not sure. However, I suspect it was his interest in the Vaults that caused him to journey overseas. He said himself that he was researching Legilimency. It is my theory that he was looking for a way to open the Buried Vault. In doing so, he found your mother, the daughter of a natural-born Legilimens. The skill skipped a generation, as she said it often does, and so when Jacob and you were born, you both had the innate ability."

"Which meant we could open the Vaults, and not our dad," Artemis said. "That was why he used to do all those puzzles. It was practice for the Vaults. He was training us."

"That would be my suspicion."

"So it should've been Jacob. He always was good at the puzzles and riddles and things. Much better than I was."

"Perhaps, but as you just saw, Jacob did not trust your father, nor did he want anything to do with him and his plans," said Dumbledore, his face growing serious. "The prophecy tells of the person who will lead the way to the Cursed Vaults. It also speaks of a sacrifice."

"A life."

"Not just any life. The life of the person most dear to the one who will open the final Vault. Jacob, naturally, was not prepared to sacrifice that life. He was determined to keep the person he loved most safe."

"But the Cabal had Duncan killed anyway."

"They did. Duncan's death was an immeasurable tragedy, made even more devastating for the simple reason that it was a great waste," Dumbledore sighed sadly. "Duncan Ashe is not the person I speak of. The person Jacob loved most in the world was you." Artemis' eyes widened, and Dumbledore placed one hand on her shoulder, the other resting on the edge of the Pensieve dish. "I must warn you, Artemis, that the next memories are yours, and you will most likely be upset by them. The truth is never easy, but it is important that you know it."

Artemis shrugged. "They're just memories, Professor. I've seen them before."

"In a way, I suppose that you're right."

Before she could ask Dumbledore what he meant, the Pensieve began to swirl again, and she felt herself plummeting down through it once more. When she stopped falling, she found herself in a small, dark room with a sloping attic ceiling. Her own bedroom. In the bed, a small child was sleeping.

The door opened a little, and a narrow strip of light entered the room, shining onto the child's face. As the child squinted and rubbed her eyes, Artemis recognised her younger self. Footsteps behind her made her aware of a second person entering the room, and she turned to see her father walking across to crouch beside the bed.

"Artemis. Wake up," he said, shaking her gently. "It's time to get up."

"Is it morning already?" 

"Not yet, princess. It's still night time, but I need your help with something."

"What?" asked the younger Artemis, her head tilting and nose wrinkling in the half-light.

"Oh, I can't tell you that. It's a surprise. Do you want to help?"

The darkened room swirled, and shifted into yet another. This one, too, Artemis recognised. She had been standing in it just an hour before, and not just in a memory. 

She watched her father lead her younger self across the black tiled entrance chamber of the Department of Mysteries and through one of the identical black doors. She followed them through the door, and found herself in the great stone-stepped room with the central archway. This time, however, the veil in the arch was missing, and the room was eerily silent.

"I don't like it," said the smaller Artemis, staring at the archway with her hazel eyes narrowed in suspicion. Her father chuckled softly.

"You're not scared are you?"

"No," Artemis watched herself stick her chin out stubbornly, though there was an undeniable waver in her voice. "I'm not scared of it, I just don't like it."

"That's okay, then," said Leander. He knelt down and placed his hands on his daughters shoulders. "Because this is what I need help with. I need you to run - as fast as you can - down all these steps and through that archway. Do you think you can do that?" 

The younger Artemis nodded her head, and her father hugged her tight to his chest. "I knew you'd be good at helping, because you are really, really special. We all love you very much. You know that, don't you?" Another nod of the little girl's head, and Leander let go of her completely. "Good. Now, run."

Artemis' blood ran cold as she watched her own face split into a broad smile, and saw herself begin to run. Her dark hair was in disarray, her feet clad in slippers, her pyjamas partly covered by a knitted jumper adorned with a pattern of blue Kneazles. She scampered down the steps, running as fast as her little legs could carry her towards the daïs with its crumbling stone arch.

"ARTEMIS, NO!"

At first, she thought that she had shouted the words herself, but the voice that cried out was not hers. Both Artemises stopped and turned to see who the voice belonged to.

Sara Hexley, her face white and filled with horror, stood in the doorway.

But not for long. She ran straight past her husband and down the steps to her daughter, placing her palms to the smaller Artemis' face, her arms, her hands, her torso.

"Are you okay, honey? Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine."

Sara Hexley was apparently unconvinced, for the colour did not return to her cheeks and she continued to run her eyes over her child, pushing her sleeves up and hair back from her face as if looking for signs of damage. Sighing as if bored by this display of maternal concern, Leander made his way down the stone steps towards them.

"You." Sara pushed her daughter behind her as she turned towards her approaching husband, her voice shaking with rage and disgust. "Jacob said... I didn't believe him. I couldn't believe him." She blinked as if forcing back tears, and asked, "It's true, isn't it? These Cursed Vaults, these people who want them... You're one of them."

"We don't want the Vaults, Sally, we want what's inside them," said Leander. "We all have wanted it for so long, needed it, and now we finally have the key to getting it. Jacob is the key, he's the one. Our son can do what no one else has done for centuries."

"And our daughter?"

"She is important, too. She has her own part to play."

Leander's eyes drifted to the stone archway, and following them, Sara's own widened to perfect circles.

"No," she said, her voice weak. "No, you can't..."

"I have to."

"I won't let you."

"You don't have a choice," Leander sighed. "Either it happens now, like this, or later, in another way. The prophecy is very clear-"

"I don't give a damn about any prophecy," Sara snapped. "This is our daughter."

"You cannot prevent the inevitable, Sally. It is prophecised, it will come to pass. At least this way, we can control how."

Sara Hexley stared at her husband. Her face began to soften, and her eyes glazed over, her face becoming unreadable. Slowly, she nodded and turned back to her daughter, holding her close and whispering into her hair. Watching on, Artemis heard her words as clearly as if she were the one being spoken to.

"Artemis, honey, I want you to show me how fast you can run, okay? When I let you go, you go run back to that door and back up the stairs. Go as far as you can, and if you find somewhere to hide, you hide. Understand?"

As she stood back up straight, Sara kept one hand on Artemis' shoulder, the other reaching for her wand.

"Go!"

The silent chamber became full of noise and movement. As her mother had instructed, the younger Artemis darted back up the stone steps, her father lunging to catch her. But Artemis had always been fast, and somehow, Sara was even faster. Quick as a flash, her wand was pointed at Leander, her feet springing into an offensive duelling position, her arm moving as she hurled spells at him with more feeling, force, and skill than Artemis had even known she possessed. Leander, now having to defend himself against his wife, had no choice but to let the younger Artemis run away. 

Meanwhile, the older Artemis stayed put, watching the duel with her mouth half-open with shock and awe as her parents continued to fight. Her mother's technique was flawless, and every spell she cast was with furious intent. Leander, even though he was defending himself both with and without his wand, was clearly no match for her.

Artemis would have stayed and watched them duel for longer, but the chamber and the lights began to swirl, spinning around her and not stopping, even as the stone steps turned into black walls and doors. In the centre of the spinning room was her younger self, eyes screwed shut and little body trembling in her blue Kneazle jumper. 

"It's okay," Artemis told herself, even though she knew that she wouldn't be able to hear. "You're going to be okay. Don't be scared."

But the younger Artemis was scared. She was terrified. Artemis tried to hug her, but her arms went straight through her. 

The doors stopped spinning and one opened. Both Artemises flinched, but the person who opened the door was Sara. she wrapped her arms around the little girl the way Artemis had tried to. 

"Where's Daddy? Why were you fighting?"

"We just had a bit of argument, that’s all. He'll come home later."

Sara led little Artemis away, and the room spun again, this time settling to form the hallway at Lovelace Crescent once more. Artemis was sitting with herself at the bottom of the staircase, and the door to the sitting room was ajar. Through it, she could hear a pair of voices.

"She's scared of me, Jacob," her mother was saying, her voice choked with tears. "I can see it, every time she looks at me."

"That's why we have to do it." 

In the doorway, Artemis could see the back of her mother's head move from side to side. Beyond her, Jacob looked through the open door and sighed before making his way over to the stairs. He hugged the younger Artemis and lifted her up, carrying her across the hallway and into the sitting room, the older Artemis following behind her.

"We can't let her remember this, Ma," he whispered, and a single tear fell down Sara Hexley's cheek as she nodded her head, just once. Jacob placed the younger Artemis down, and removed his wand from his robes.

"Ma?" said the younger Artemis, and Sara Hexley closed her eyes. "Jacob?"

Artemis watched Jacob put the tip of his wand to her younger self's temple, and everything turned black. 

[redhairedgryffindor]

How have you been holding up since the battle?

Not well

All right

[eternalchaoschocolaterain]

Dumbledore remembers Merula's existence.

I don't like him. Always pretending to help when doing nothing.

[carewyncromwell]

McGonagall 🤝 Carewyn

in memory of Maggie Smith...rest in peace, sweet queen

The Battle of Hogwarts was hard-fought. With how many casualties there had been and how much the school had been damaged, it was inevitable that it would take a very long time before things would be as they once were. If nothing else, those poor students who had had to start at Hogwarts the year the Death Eaters took over would have to pretty much start all over again from the Defense Against the Dark Arts and Muggle Studies perspective, since everything they'd learned from the Carrows was both completely useless and incorrect. And that wasn't even touching just how difficult it would be for the student body to find contentment and peace again after such a traumatic school year.

Hogwarts needed strong leadership, if it hoped to get through such a difficult time. Fortunately the school was in very good hands, with Minerva McGonagall as its Headmistress. There was truly no one better to take charge in Carewyn Cromwell's mind that her old Deputy Headmistress.

"Phoenix ashes," Carewyn stated the password that she'd received in her most recent letter.

At once the gargoyle gave her entry, allowing her access to the Headmistress's Office. As she climbed the stairs, she caught the sound of two familiar voices.

"...word to Kingsley on the matter?" asked a very dreamy, serene male voice.

"I daresay our new Minister will have more than enough on his plate at present," said a much crisper, sterner female voice, before she exhaled. "But yes, I suppose I will have to. It's hardly a wonder last NEWT season was so disheveled: some retesting will be inevitable, under the circumstances..."

As Carewyn reached the landing, she found tall, austere Minerva McGonagall standing at the far back left of the office, speaking to the portrait of her predecessor, Albus Dumbledore. The Headmistress had her graying dark hair tied back in a very tight bun as always, and she was dressed in high-necked black and red tartan robes. She had her back to Carewyn when she entered, which meant that Dumbledore's portrait caught sight of the red-haired lawyer first.

"Hello, Carewyn," he said with a bright twinkle in his painted eyes.

Carewyn's red lips came together tightly. It was the first time she'd seen Dumbledore's portrait in the Headmaster's office. The last time she'd seen the man himself was nearly a year prior to his death -- hell, even the last letter she'd received from him had come through a good two years ago now.

"...Hello, Professor," she said stiffly.

She turned to McGonagall and her expression relaxed, seeing the small smile touching the older woman's features.

"Hello, Miss Cromwell."

"It's been a while, Professor."

"Indeed it has," said McGonagall. "I believe this is the first time we’ve spoken since I visited your flat at the start of the War…"

Carewyn nodded. She glanced around the Headmistress's office — it hadn’t changed that dramatically since she’d been there last, but there were a few things that felt off. Obviously the portrait of Dumbledore was new; there were a few magical instruments that had been replaced on the many shelves. The thing that caught Carewyn's eye, however, was the empty roost which years before had hosted Dumbledore’s familiar, Fawkes the phoenix.

McGonagall followed Carewyn's gaze, and her expression grew a bit more solemn.

"Fawkes left Hogwarts the night Albus died," she said, her eyes flitting back to Dumbledore’s portrait as he swept out of it and out of sight. "Neither I nor anyone else I know of has seen him since."

Carewyn bowed her head. "I daresay with how loyal he was to Dumbledore, Fawkes will mourn him longer than anyone else."

McGonagall sighed. "Yes..."

Her eyes behind her glasses appeared misty and dark — Carewyn could sense a wave of nostalgia coming off of her, as well as a Dumbledore-shaped shadow sweeping silently around the office they now occupied. Even so, as she crossed the room back over to her desk, the Headmistress walked with purpose and pride in her shoulders.

"I lament you were unable to pay your respects, after what happened," said McGonagall, "but I suppose the role you played for the Order would have been compromised by your attendance?"

Carewyn frowned uncomfortably as she looked away.

"My Legilimency has…made it more difficult for me to be in tight proximity with lots of people. And people in mourning, especially people I knew…it would've been a struggle to act detached from Bill and the others, in the midst of that. With Umbridge and Scrimgeour in attendance as potential witnesses, I couldn't risk that loss of composure, if I wanted them to think I wasn't aligned with the Order."

Her eyes darkened.

"…Even coming to Hogwarts, after the Battle…even when separated from everyone by walls, the emotions were so loud and painful that I could barely stand."

McGonagall’s face gained a bit more compassion. "I see…"

The Headmistress indicated the chair on the other side of her desk — Carewyn accepted the mute offer and sat down.

"Would you like some tea?" asked McGonagall.

"That'd be lovely, thank you."

The Headmistress waved her wand. In a moment, a teapot had bounced off of a nearby table with a newly formed pair of legs and up onto the desk, little splashes of tea spilling out as it went. Not far behind it came two teacups, also bounding up onto the desk in front of Carewyn and McGonagall, respectively. McGonagall let the teapot pour its own contents into their cups as she flipped open a lid on a box to reveal a batch of Ginger Newts, which she placed down between them so Carewyn could reach them.

"I did visit his tomb on my way in today, though," said Carewyn. She picked up her newly full cup with a quick murmured "thank you" to the enchanted teapot. "Mum asked me to drop off some flowers, for her."

"Albus would've appreciated that," said McGonagall. "He always spoke fondly of Lane…and of you and Jacob, as well. He does as well," she added, indicating the empty frame of Dumbledore's portrait with a nod of her head.

Carewyn eyed the empty frame too, but more beadily. However fond he may have been of them, Dumbledore had still expelled Jacob in a misguided attempt to protect Hogwarts from R, and that was something that even now Carewyn couldn’t forgive.

“How is Jacob?” asked McGonagall more solemnly. "I know he suffered his fair share of loss in the final Battle."

"He's doing as well as he can,” Carewyn said, grateful for the caring. "As we all are, after everyone we’ve lost in this War…"

The faces of Tonks, Lupin, Amelia Bones, Mad-Eye Moody, Fred, and Dobby ran over her memory as she glanced around the office again, her eyes lingering on each portrait.

For a brief moment, Carewyn had wondered if there would’ve been another portrait added of the Headmaster who had taken charge of Hogwarts for most of the last term — but, she reminded herself, someone would likely have to actively choose to put a portrait of him in the office for him to be there. And she had trouble thinking of anyone who’d want to hang a portrait of Severus Snape on Hogwarts grounds, after everything…

McGonagall’s own expression had become rather sad as she folded her hands on her desk.

"I daresay it will be a long time before we fully heal from all the pain we have suffered. Before our whole World heals..."

Her face then grew more serious again.

"...Fortunately, from what I understand, we have started on the proper path towards that. Is it true you've accepted the role of Chief Prosecutor, for the Ministry's upcoming trials?"

Carewyn nodded. "Minister Shacklebolt offered the role to me this last Tuesday. There's still a lot of work to do before we start, but all of the suspects the Ministry seeks to try are already in custody, so at least we don't have to worry about them causing further damage. All we have to do now is prove the extent of their crimes..." Her eyes hardened. "...And I intend to make sure they all face justice — every last one of them.”

"I have no doubt of that, Miss Cromwell." Something proud seemed to flicker across McGonagall’s features. "If there’s one thing Barty Crouch did not have while pursuing justice against Voldemort’s supporters, it was a strong moral compass…and that is something you have never lacked.”

Carewyn wasn’t able to fight back the flinch at the Dark Lord’s name; even now that he was dead, he remained her greatest fear, and the habit of not using his name was hard to break. Even so, she smiled slightly.

"…I appreciate the support, Professor. It'll take time to give everyone a thorough trial, but there are some who it will be far easier to try and convict quickly. Those captured after the Battle of Hogwarts, primarily — I would say there is little to no defense anyone could offer for the likes of Alecto and Amycus Carrow."

McGonagall scoffed. "I doubt those savage simpletons would see any reason to excuse their behavior, as opposed to justify it."

Carewyn snorted in agreement. "The Malfoys, on the other hand, might require more deliberation…particularly Narcissa." She took a sip of tea. "...Then there are those suspects who will undoubtedly claim innocence and coercion, whether it's true or not — Dolores Umbridge, for instance."

McGonagall gave a louder scoff than ever.

"Oh yes, I'm quite sure she'll try," she said spitefully. "I do hope your case will be robust enough to contradict that?"

"Don't worry," said Carewyn with a cold smile, "I have a large file of evidence against Umbridge, and it should be more than enough to condemn her. If you want to submit your own testimony as to her sadistic character, though, I'd be happy to include it in my prosecution," she added with a larger smirk.

"You may expect it by tomorrow," McGonagall said very coolly.

"Much obliged," Carewyn said with a grin.

She put down her cup of tea so she could fetch a Ginger Newt from the open tin. She took a bite, chewing slowly as she considered her next words.

"...Professor...may I ask your opinion on something?"

McGonagall raised her eyebrows. "You may certainly ask it. Though I must confess, I'm pleasantly surprised to hear you openly asking for advice."

"I don't intend to make a habit of it," Carewyn said with a light huff. Glancing away, she then admitted a bit more seriously, "...It's just...you've had to look after a lot of children as if they were yours, even if they weren't. And well...I find myself in the position that I might have to, as well."

McGonagall peered at Carewyn over her tea with interest. "Oh?"

Carewyn smiled uncomfortably, her eyes averted as she rested her hand holding the Ginger Newt on the desk.

"...I...want to foster a child," she confessed.

McGonagall blinked in surprise.

"His name is Erik Apollo," Carewyn explained. "He's one of the children I'm representing before the Wizengamot, demanding compensation. He was orphaned, cursed, and rounded up by the Muggle-Born Registration Commission during the War -- he only just barely avoided getting chucked into Azkaban, after Umbridge's trumped-up trial of him. He's twelve years old, set to start at Hogwarts this September as a first year. His home was wrecked and he has no other family. He needs somewhere stable to live in the Wizarding World, while he attends school..."

"And you want to provide that to him?" presumed McGonagall.

Carewyn nodded very firmly. "I do."

"Hm..." McGonagall's face had warmed significantly. "...Well, Miss Cromwell, I think that is a truly noble and generous thing for you to do. I would be happy to give you any counsel you wish."

She then smiled a bit more wryly.

"And I sincerely hope your new ward gets up to less trouble than you or your brother got up to, when he arrives here this September."

Carewyn laughed.

Friendship Drabble Prompt!

[chocfrog-enjoyer]

This is not at all what I expected to do… but well there’s a first time for everything! Like- making a hat for a dancing skeleton

[missnight0wl]

Why do you hate Dumbledore so much anyway??

I actually don’t hate Dumbledore. And to be completely honest, I’m quite confused about what gave you this impression. Was it any post in particular? Because I feel that the last time I really complained about him was at the beginning of Y6 of HPHM.

I can think of many people who hate Dumbledore, even within just HPHM fandom, and while I kinda see their point, I never considered myself to be a part of this group. Sure, he can be a scumbag and a manipulator, but again, I don’t hate him. In fact, I’d say it’s more like I defend him sometimes. I still believe his role in helping MC was much bigger than it seems, for example (or at least it was supposed to be in the original plans for the story). So… yeah.