#ilvermorny school of witchcraft and wizardry

[valerian138]

Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry School Uniforms

[official-ilvermorny]

I have lately been wondering about our school founder, Isolt Sayre, and I have a few questions about her.

1) Which Hogwarts house do you think she would have been sorted in, Ravenclaw or Slytherin?

2) What ultimately made Isolt a Horned Serpent? She also had many qualities from the other houses, such as the empathy of Pukwudgie, the curiosity of Thunderbird, and the courage of Wampus.

3) Does she have any descendants through Martha that attend Ilvermorny today?

1) This is purely personal conjecture, so keep that in mind. Her lineage of course suggests Slytherin — she was certainly powerful, ambitious, and clever enough, too. But it was her mind that truly set her apart from the witches of her day. She was curious about all magic, particularly the creatures of the New World. She was strategic (you have to be to start the foremost school of magic in America). She learned so much that she needed to, even wandlore, in order to help those around her. All this, at least to me, screams Ravenclaw.

2) She most certainly did! And that's something important to remember by all people — just because they are one House, or have one particular attribute, we shouldn't try to define them by that one thing. Isolt was many, many things. In fact, it wasn't until much later than her time that the idea of Horned Serpents being the House of the Mind was truly solidified. It definitely started with those trends (after all, as aforementioned, Isolt was constantly studying and researching and planning and learning), but every person has some attributes of other Houses.

3) Hmm, I don't actually know. Based on what we know about Martha Steward and her husband, it's highly likely that some of her descendants ended up with magic and went to Ilvermorny — especially now, 400 years later. I suppose someone will just have to do some family history work!

...

Also, a quick note in case anyone was wondering, we don't consider Isolt Sayre to be the only or main Founder of the school, even if she originally had more magical knowledge than the rest — the whole family definitely count as Founders as well.

~Selwyn

[thatsoanjie]

When the wind settles

Sebastian Sallow x reader

Summary : After Ranrok was ended, a Goblin rebellion happened. This is 5 months after the rebellion, and everyone thought you were gone for good. Sebastian revisits Feldcroft in an attempt to find traces of you again, not knowing what's to come.

Word count : 1.5k

Notes : This one was a little heavier to write! Just had to get this one out of my mind.

TW : Mentions of su!c!dal ideation... read at your own discretion.

Read my disclaimer and fair use notice here

The ruins of Feldcroft lay still, a silent testament to the war that had ravaged the land. The village, once vibrant with life, was now a graveyard of memories, its cottages reduced to charred skeletons, its streets choked with debris. The air was heavy with the scent of damp earth and ashes, a grim reminder of all that had been lost. Snow had begun to fall again, soft and steady, as if the sky itself was mourning.

Sebastian Sallow stood in the center of what had once been his home, his heart as cold and lifeless as the stones scattered around him. It had been five months since the final battle of the Goblin Rebellion, five months since he had lost almost everything that mattered. Ominis and Anne were safe, and for that, he was grateful, but the knowledge did nothing to fill the void inside him.

Because you were gone.

The thought was a knife in his chest, a pain that had become as familiar as his own heartbeat. You had been his anchor, his hope, his everything. And now you were nothing more than a memory—a ghost that haunted his every waking moment. They had told him you were dead, that you had been lost in the chaos of the battle, your body never found. He had refused to believe it at first, had scoured the wreckage for any sign of you, but as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, the terrible truth had settled in.

You were gone. And there was nothing he could do to change that.

The guilt was a constant companion, a weight he could never shake. You had been the best of them, the light that had kept him going through the darkest times. And now that light was extinguished, leaving him to stumble through the shadows alone.

He had come back to Feldcroft because there was nowhere else to go. The world outside was trying to rebuild, to move on, but Sebastian was stuck in the past, trapped in a moment that he couldn’t escape. The ruins of Feldcroft were all that was left of his old life, a desolate reflection of the emptiness he carried inside him. 

He wandered through the village, his steps slow and heavy, his mind lost in the memories of what had once been. He could still see it, as if the echoes of the past were imprinted on the air—the laughter of children playing in the streets, the warm glow of lanterns in the windows, the scent of freshly baked bread wafting from the cottages. But those memories were like ghosts, insubstantial and fleeting, impossible to hold on to.

Just like you.

Sebastian’s breath hitched as he reached the edge of the village, where the land sloped down toward the river. This had been your favorite spot, the place where you had always come to find peace, to escape from the burdens of the world. He could almost see you there, standing by the water, your hair catching the light as you turned to smile at him.

But it was just a memory. Just another ghost.

He closed his eyes, the ache in his chest unbearable. He didn’t know how to keep going without you, didn’t want to keep going. The world was a darker place without you in it, and he was so tired of stumbling through the shadows, of trying to find his way in a world that no longer made sense.

But then, through the silence, he heard it—a sound so soft, so faint, that at first, he thought it was just the wind. But it came again, more distinct this time, a footstep crunching in the snow behind him.

His heart stopped, his breath catching in his throat. He turned slowly, afraid to look, afraid to hope. And then he saw you.

You were standing just a few feet away, your figure half-hidden by the falling snow, your eyes wide with shock and something else—something that mirrored the grief and yearning that had been eating away at him for so long.

For a moment, he couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. His mind struggled to process what he was seeing, to reconcile the image of you standing before him with the brutal reality he had been living in. It couldn’t be real. You were gone. You were a ghost.

“Sebastian,” you whispered, your voice trembling as if you, too, were afraid that this was just a dream, that you might wake up at any moment and find yourself alone again.

He shook his head, his eyes wide with disbelief. “You’re not real,” he said, his voice breaking as he took a step back, his hands trembling at his sides. “You can’t be real.”

“Sebastian, it’s me,” you insisted, your voice thick with emotion as you took a step toward him, your hand reaching out as if to reassure him, to prove that you were real, that you were here.

He flinched, his heart pounding in his chest as he stared at you, his mind screaming that this couldn’t be happening, that you were just a figment of his imagination, conjured by his grief and longing. “You’re dead,” he whispered, his voice raw with the pain that had been festering inside him for months. “They told me you were dead.”

“I almost was,” you admitted, your voice barely more than a breath. “I was hurt, Sebastian—badly. But I survived. I made it to one of the camps, and they healed me. After that, I helped wherever I could—healing, rebuilding, trying to make sense of everything that had happened. But my work there was done, I had nothing keeping me there. I had to find you.”

He stared at you, his heart breaking all over again at the sight of the tears in your eyes, the grief and love that shone in them. “I thought I’d lost you,” he whispered, his voice trembling with the weight of his emotions. “I thought you were gone, and I didn’t know how to keep going without you.”

You took another step closer, your hand brushing against his arm, warm and solid and so achingly real. “I’m here now,” you whispered, your voice filled with a quiet, unshakable determination. “We’re both here, Sebastian. We survived.”

He swallowed hard, his throat tight with the tears he had been holding back for so long. “It should’ve been me,” he choked out, the words slipping out before he could stop them. “You didn’t deserve this. You didn’t deserve to suffer like that. I should’ve been the one to die, not you.”

“No,” you said firmly, your voice laced with a fierce, desperate kind of love. “Don’t you ever say that, Sebastian. We both fought, we both survived. And now we’re here. Alive.”

He hesitated, his heart warring with his mind, his grief and guilt battling against the overwhelming relief of having you in his arms again. “I thought I’d lost you,” he repeated, his voice breaking as he finally let himself believe what he was seeing, let himself believe that you were really here, that this wasn’t just a cruel trick of his imagination.

You reached up, your hand cupping his cheek, your touch grounding him, anchoring him in the reality of the moment. “I’m right here,” you whispered, your voice trembling with the depth of your emotions. “And I’m not going anywhere. I’m not leaving you, Sebastian. Not now. Not ever.”

He couldn’t hold back any longer. With a broken sob, he pulled you into his arms, holding you as tightly as he could, as if he could somehow make up for all the lost time, for all the moments he had thought he would never have with you again. You clung to him just as fiercely, your tears soaking into his shirt as you buried your face in his chest, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you tried to steady yourself.

“I love you,” he whispered, the words spilling out of him in a rush, as if he had been holding them back for too long. “I love you. I should have told you before, but I was too scared, too afraid of what might happen. But I’m not going to make that mistake again.”

“I love you too,” you whispered, your voice trembling with the weight of the words. “I always have, Sebastian. And I’m not going to let you go. Not now. Not ever.”

He kissed you then, slow and deep, pouring all of his love, all of his grief, all of his yearning into that one kiss. It was a kiss filled with the promise of tomorrow, with the hope of a future that he had thought was lost. And as he held you in his arms, surrounded by the ruins of Feldcroft, the wind swirling around you like a shroud, he knew that he had found you again.

And that was enough.

***

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed. Requests are open.

[l-egionaire]

You know what? I'm bored, and I've got some ideas, so here are my Ilvermony headcanons.

The separate houses are treated as little more than an aesthetic difference by the students. While there might be rivalries and prank wars between the houses, it never gets to the levels of near discrimination that it gets to at Hogwarts. The students all just consider themselves students of the same school and members of the houses intermingle and hang out with each other all the time. They're even allowed to be in each other's dorms for limited amounts of time each day. The teachers encourage it as they often say that each house represents a part of what every great wizard needs, and coming together helps bring them all together towards the ideal wizard.

It's not uncommon for there to be students from other countries who don't speak English perfectly. Thankfully, there are charms to help translate their speech for the teacher, and the only part of their work that needs to be spoken English are their incantations. Though some might still ask for help in getting the pronunciation correct.

The dining hall students eat in is vastly different from Hogwarts's Great Hall, being a large room with mahogany walls filled with multiple circular tables covered in red tablecloths with gold trim and set with silver untensils, fine blue China plates, and crystal glasses. In the center of the room is a vast roaring fireplace with a picture of the Sayre family overtop of it. During feasts, the Pukwudgies bring out platters and pitchers of food and drink that stay magically hot and cold until the students serve themselves from them. Students are allowed to sit at whatever table they please, and the staff eat at a massive table in the middle of all the others.

The dorms are just different buildings of the castle that have five floors of T-shaped hallways with long red and gold rugs bearing the houses symbol. Along the walls of each hallways are dorm rooms for each years students. Students are assigned two each to a dorm, with their roommates's names being included with the letters they receive at the start of each new year. Roommates can't be changed unless two students agree to trade with each other. The dorms all have two large half poster beds with red and gold sheets and blankets, the blankets also carrying their houses symbol and pillows with blue pillow cases. There's also two desks, half dressers, wardrobes, and a set of three shelves above the dressers on both sides (the rooms are enhanced with expansion charms to give them extra space). The halls for younger students all have a dorm manager in them, an older student who was chosen to sleep on their floor to act as a chaperone and disciplinary figure to the students.

The students get to the school by way of multiple magical single decker busses that all arrive at Rockfeller Center in New York. They drive for around an hour before making a stop at a magically hidden pit stop where the students can get snacks, drinks and use the bathroom before the rest of the journey.

Thanksgivings at Ilvermony are always huge. The decorations include fall leaves that flutter and blow themselves through the halls, realistic turkey figures that jump around and gobble, and in the center of each dining room table is a red and gold hat that plays music. Each table gets its own turkey to carve (any leftovers are served over the next few days as sandwiches) along with boats of gravy and cranberry sauce, bowls of corn, mashed potatoes and carrots. And for dessert, a veritable buffet of pies, including Ilvermony's famous cranberry pie, the recipe said to have been invented by Isolt Sayre herself.

Any students without a wand before coming to school is allowed to select one from the hall of wands just past the sorting room. The hall holds hundreds of wands stacked inside their case along the walls. The room holds both wands so new they were just ordered yesterday and so old they were created at the very start of the school. After each sorting ceremony, the head of the school helps each first year's find a wand that "chooses" them, a process that can take up to an hour at most. It's also heavily guarded at all times by both a pair of heavily armed, muscular Pukwudgies and a rotating member of the staff as it's a prime target for thievery either by students or dark wizards.

Ilvermorny boasts a massive roaster of international magical studies electives. In each one, students can study the government, magical creatures, and magical history of the country of their choosing. Some even go on summer trips to those countries to further their studies.

Rather than O.W.L.s, Ilvermorny students takes the W.I.T. or Wizarding Intuition Tests, something similar to an SAT tests. The tests are taken twice, once during sixth year and once during seventh year for each class the students take, and the combined scores of each year are added together, and that average becomes their score. The better the score in certain subjects, the more job opportunities the students have.

To receive mail, students go to the mail room in a tall tower at the southern side of the castle where every owl goes to bring packages and letters for their deliveriees to receive. The mail room is student run and students are selected at random to do the job.

[nizar-dreams]

As amazing as Fantastic Beast is with all of the interesting creatures and additional lore, I loathe the take on the American Magical World. And not because American pride (‘Merica🇺🇸🦅🇺🇸🦅🇺🇸🦅) but because that might work in New York, but that social structure sure as fuck don’t work the farther west you get.

Each state is different, it gives them their charms, and each state also has… drumroll please 🥁🥁🥁🥁

NATIVE AMERICANS!!! Yes the people who’ve been on these lands since before the first of the 13 colonies even existed!!!

Can you imagine Magical America? The creatures who lived alongside tribes? The giant forests? Hell, the other sentient beings like the centaurs, goblins, elves, etc.? Imagine:

The great Rivers and Lakes guarded by the merfolk and swimming with the great salmons, occasionally assisting the tribes along their borders so they all may share what the waters have to offer them

The great Plains and Forests with centaur tribes being mighty and powerful, guardians of the lands and occasionally allying with the human tribes

Elves that are still short but mighty and healthy and who get mistaken for native children when they live alongside human tribes

Goblins living deep in the caves of mountains, living happily with little human interaction besides for trading for safe passages and materials.

Imagine the werewolves loving their inner wolves and having their own tribes and living peacefully in their homes.

Imagine that, for thousands, and hundreds of years they lived in peace, occasionally waring against themselves but things happen of course but they way the magic and earth had never been so healthy as it was. Gods imagine Yellowstone or the Grand Canyon? Or the Mojave Desert? The great basins, the plateaus…

And then, when the Europeans started claiming the land that the magical beings fought to protect the lands they have lived on for centuries, the creatures of the forest hiding the remnants of their great lands from human eyes and hands, protecting the magic that slowly dies as the land gets destroyed and the magical beings who called those lands home started to die and could no longer protect the land.

That they tried to cling and hide and fight for their homes with whatever they could, but when the magical Europeans got involved it just went to hell for the magical beings.

The Native Reservations, National Parks/Lands, and deep into the mountains, are some of the few places that magical creatures can live in relative peace. The centaurs are not as many, and the elves either live on the reservations or the forests. The goblins are not like their European kin, but they are not the same as they were, now instead of trade for safe passage it is trade for protection of human materials or trading for goblin creations. The merfolk have perished in most lakes and rivers where humans have polluted or hunted their food to extinction. The magical creatures who once lived on the land are either hunted down for sport or for being declared born of hell.

Now imagine Ilvermorny, created by a mother who wanted her children to learn magic, and turned into a way for tribes to take shelter and teach their ways as well as learn other ways for magic. The school cropping up in the midst of Magical Americas downfall becomes a place that the few tribes not driven out of their home learn different form of magic while creating a foundation for Native American magic to survive and be taught in the school. Imagine multiple sister schools (because America is too big for there ti be only one school) to the original Ilvermorny being created to teach, to embrace and preserve a culture they refuse to let be erased.

Years later and it is a core course that gets taught, and keeps a part of a culture alive that was on the bring of complete erasure.

Imagine that when African slaves started appearing and become enslave, those who escaped and found themselves at Ilvermorny schools, they started teaching their magics as well. Then as more minorities started to appear in America, so did the lessons in certain Ilvermorny schools where these minorities were prevalent.

America is a cauldron full of magical cultures being mixed, and Ilvermorny is the first to openly teach different magical cultures. The southern schools involve more Mexican, Spaniard, some French, and African magical courses, while the north is more French. The east coast is more influenced by British magics, while the west coast is influenced by the Spaniard, Chinese, and Russian.

They all had their own mix and all have the main course shared by the people who lived their first, but magical america is sooo much more more fascinating and so young still! There is still so much that I can’t possibly cover without a month of research! And we haven’t even reached the southern hemisphere!

Fantastic Beast is great, but it’s missing the uniqueness and complexity of America. And I can only dip a finger into the endless possibilities of the magical American world.

[caffeine-cryptidz]

i love the idea of an ilvermorney student transferring to hogwarts and not knowing british wizarding icons

british wizard: wait excuse me, you don’t know who Harry Potter is?! THE Harry Potter?!?!

american wizard: oh nah, not big on politics

[xoxonxo]

ron weasley x ilvermorny transfer? friends to lovers where we see a lot of their friendship/dynamic with some relationship fluff too! I also see reader being like best friends w the twins😇 thank u angel

everything has changed

a/n: no warnings, hope you like it ml !! 2.3k+

version on AO3

She felt a loud smack on the cold, polished wooden surface that had etched intricate designs. The young woman’s neck swiveled left and right before catching a glimpse of red hair towering over her. She dug her fingers into her hair and sighed before managing to mumble out an incoherent string of words. “Do you two ever get tired of teasing me?” The twins exchanged smirks, glancing at one another before replying simultaneously, “Never.” She scoffed, shoving a half-eaten piece of toast thinly coated in marmalade into her mouth. Fred and George sat themselves beside her, beginning to chatter about the upcoming Quidditch season. “Are you going the game?” George asked. A sigh left her mouth, clearing her throat and shaking her head, “No, George. I already told you I have to catch up on all my European Magic History, they taught it differently at Ilvermorny.” She turned to her side, facing Ron’s plate, with was piled with scones and biscuits served throughout the table. “Blimey, [Y/N], is there anything they taught you correctly at that ridiculous school? First no Quidditch, and now American Magic History— its an outrage.” She smiled wryly as she pressed a warm mug to her lips, taking a sip of her odd-tasting coffee. “Good morning to you too, Ron.” The boy scrunched his nose as he took a large bite from a blueberry scone, letting the crumbs fall onto his lap. “You’re gross, seriously Ron. Did your mother forget to teach you manners?”, she teased, shaking her head mockingly. Fred shot her a defensive glare, then returned to his conversation with George. “That’s rich coming from you. Insulting my own mother.” He crossed his arms before the two suppressed a slight laugh. Taking one last sip from her bitter coffee, she stood up from from the bench and reached for her knitted, black bag, “I think I should start getting to Potions, I might get lost again,” she added with a smile. The twins nodded, diving back to their discussion about the House Cup. Ron barley acknowledged her, too engrossed in the selection food mounted on his plate. She grinned at Ron’s appetite, then turned around and sighed to herself.

It was going to be a long day.

Potions, was nothing short of a nuisance for any Gryffindor on Snape’s bad side, especially if you were acquainted with Harry Potter in any way, shape, or form. His story shook her; back home, there wasn’t ever a renowned Dark Wizard who terrorized the magical community, (or at least not one she knew of). [Y/N] possibly couldn’t understand how Snape hated Harry, even after everything he went through, but being friends with Fred and George, meant being friends with Ron, which inevitably meant being friends with Harry. The eerie atmosphere of the classroom sent shivers down her spine as she settled into her chair, reaching in her bag’s contents for her Potions textbook. She flipped the pages open, her fingers delicately tracing the leather and stitched letterings on its spine. The clocktower chimed, indicating the start of the class session. She glanced to her left and watched as Ron plopped himself in the empty chair besides her. [Y/N] felt goosebumps rise on her neck as the footsteps behind her swooshed behind her. Her breath quickened before she heard Ron’s book hit the marbled floor, “Late again, Weasley.” Her posture straightened as Snape paced behind her and Ron, his voice echoed coldly. “Twenty points from Gryffindor. If you happen to be late again, I would have no choice but to deduct fifty more.” She grimaced at the deduction before Snape sharply turned towards her, his eyes narrowing in her direction, “I would suppose that in Ilvermorny they too punish tardiness, [Y/L/N]. I would keep an eye on your little friends in the future if you’d like to have a chance at getting third place in the House Cup. There will be no exceptions.” Her throat tightened as Snape walked away and stood near the front of the classroom. Her eyes trailed over to Ron, who was uttering curses under his breath. She snorted, tucking a strand of loose hair behind her ear. “Could you try to be a couple seconds earlier next time?” Ron scoffed, leaning towards hers, “I was only late because of Hermione. She was bloody furious when she found out I copied from her essay. What was I ‘posed to do? It’s mental, really.” She shook her head, biting her inner cheek, in order to stifle her laugh, “Next time you can copy mine, just, please try to be on time.” Ron’s face brightened, meeting a stern look from Snape, causing him to clear his throat. “Erm, yeah. I’d appreciate that, [Y/N], really.” Potions seriously couldn’t go by faster.

By the time lunch had rolled around, [Y/N] felt famished. Potions felt like it had lasted hours on end, and Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor Umbridge was tedious as ever. She plopped herself on the freshly mowed grass near the Great Lake, sighing with relief as she leaned back against the dark oak tree. She pressed her knees against her stomach clutching her stomach as it growled back at her. “Have some.” Fred sat himself in front of her, and the handed her a loosely wrapped sandwich and an unopened bottle of pumpkin juice, while George pulled out a bottle of his own, “You’re gonna need it.” Gratefully, she took what was handed to her and scarfed it down. “Thanks, Fred,” she spoke in between her bites, “I thought I was going to die if I had to be in Snape’s class any longer.” After washing her food down with the remaining pumpkin juice, [Y/N] skimmed the area around her. In the distance, she caught eye of a familiar group walking her way, followed by bickering getting closer.

“Harry is focused on Quidditch too, Hermione! You don’t seem to care.” Ron’s voice cut through the air. “Yes, Ronald, but Harry didn’t forget to turn in the paper for our group assignment! Get your head out of that stupid sport, and please, for the love of Merlin, when we go to Hogsmeade this weekend, you better remember to finish reading the latest chapter on Jinxes.”Ron’s nose scrunched as he and Hermione settled beside the twins, “Hogsmeade?” Hermione paused, briefly taken aback by [Y/N]’s question, then cleared her throat,“Yes, Hogsmeade. Haven’t you been there before?” Fred and George exchanged glances, preparing to interject before Ron spoke up.“You can come,” he spoke quickly before glancing down at his lap, “I mean, it would be your first time and it would be fun.” Fred smirked, elbowing his twin’s side, “Oh, I’m sure it would be,” causing George to grin mischievously. [Y/N] nodded eagerly, almost honored by his invitation. “I would like that, Ron.” The twins, almost instantly faced [Y/N], forming plans and ideas about what to do when the day arrived. “You still have to finish your homework, Ronald,” Hermione added in a sing-song voice before returning to the book propped up on her lap, eliciting a long groan out of Ron.

To say she had been excited to go to Hogsmeade was an understatement. For the rest of the week, she pestered Fred and George over what shops they were planning on visiting, checked in with Harry if he was tagging along, and even had Hermione help her with her outfit. When the day had arrived, it was warm and clear. “Fred, George! Over here!” She waved enthusiastically until the twins had spotted her. “I haven’t seen you this excited since I told you that there was a class for Magical Creatures,” George snorted, crossing his arms, “Harry, Ron, and Hermione should be here any minute. They got caught up.” The three watched the path expectantly before hearing voices behind them. “Ready to go?”Harry and Ron strolled towards them, Hermione following closely behind. [Y/N] turned around almost instantly and grinned, “Obviously.” Once they arrived to Hogsmeade, she felt her heart begin to race. There were rows of small shops with colorful displays to catch the attention of younger students from Hogwarts, and bustling crowds bumping shoulders on their way to get somewhere. It was practically everything she had dreamed of. Eventually, they had split up— Harry, Ron, and Hermione decided to get some supplies they needed while Fred and George gave her a quick tour of the place before heading to the three broomsticks. [Y/N] had spent a small fortune for sweets at Honeydukes, stylish robes at Madam Malkin’s, and supplies for her pet owl she had run out of. As they stepped into the pub, the three walked over to Harry, Ron, and Hermione who had already ordered a round of Butterbeer for the six of them. “Blood Hell, [Y/N]! Did you buy all of Hogsmeade? How many bags do you have,” Ron exclaimed, his eyes wide. She rolled her eyes as she settled into her seat, grabbing the jug of Butterbeer and bringing it to her lips. “Seven. I was going to share the caramel fudge I bought, but since you decided to be an arse I suppose you wont be getting any.” She wiped off the foam from her lips with the back of her wrist, ignoring the gasps and apologizes coming from Ron. Fred and George exchanged a look and cackled, causing Harry and Hermione to join in he laughter.“Uh, you have a bit of,” Ron began, leaning in to wipe off the smear of sweet foam she had left on her lip with his thumb. The touch was brief, but didn’t fail to send a shiver down her spine, causing her ears to turn pink. The pub went quieted briefly, all but a couple whispers and clinks of glasses were heard. She felt her face heat up as she managed to clear her throat, “Thank you.” Ron laughed nervously, “No problem.” He returned to his own Butterbeer and chugged the rest, calling the bar keeper to bring him another. “Merlin, Ron. You’re hopeless,” George added, causing [Y/N] to look away. Sensing the tension, Hermione smiled sternly and faced [Y/N], “I think you should come to the Quidditch game, [Y/N]. It would be nice having someone watch with me.” She glanced at the eager twins before letting a soft sigh escape her mouth, “Fine, I’ll go. But don’t expect me to understand anything.” As the chatter in the pub resumed its buzz, Ron and [Y/N] exchanged glances, smiling.

The first Quidditch game of the season happened to be Gryffindor against Slytherin, which was highly anticipated. Hermione and [Y/N], who happened to be decked out in everything Gryffindor or red they could find, sat near the front. The student section was roaring with excitement, cursing at the other side, and cheering for their own. She knew very little about the game— Harry, the Seeker had to catch the snitch; Fred and George were something called Beaters; and that Ron was a Keeper. To be quite frank, she didn’t know half of the rules. She didn’t understand what each position did, or how they were different, and was baffled as to why the game ended once the Snitch was caught— because wouldn’t that make everything else in the game pointless? But she didn’t dare ask Hermione because all she could do was stare at Ron. She barely noticed that the game had started if it weren’t for Ron flying over Harry to get to his position by the goalpost. Points were scored on both sides, though there were times that [Y/N] had thought Gryffindor was wrongfully penalized (or maybe she was quite biased). The cheers from the stands were deafening. For a game that she didn’t care about, she was on the edge of her seat for the entirety of the match. Suddenly, two hours into the game, the crowd erupted into cheers, but [Y/N] couldn’t keep her eyes off Ron. He took over her mind ever since Hogsmeade—or maybe ever before. Hermione shook her, pointing excitedly to Harry, who had the snitch in his hand, showcasing it to his teammates and the Gryffindor student section. She began to cheer as fellow Gryffindors raced into the field, congratulating Harry. But [Y/N] knew who she looking for. The twins ran over to her, asking her if she saw the times they made a goal, she nodded absentmindedly and smiled as she scanned the field for red hair. She glanced to her left and saw Ron. He was sweaty, and his hair was pushed back. She waisted no time and made her way to him, oblivious to the screams of her name coming from behind her. “Ron!” she called out to him, breathless as she approached him. He turned towards her, his toothy grin spreading across his face. “You did it!” with a swift motion, he pulled her by the waist and pressed his lips against hers, cupping her cheek. The kiss caught her off guard, leaving her breathless, melting at his touch. Before she could react he pulled away, his expression mixed with smugness and satisfaction. “Sorry, I had to do that.” He searched her eyes for any hesitation. She grabbed his shirt in a twist and pulled him closer, kissing him once more. This time the kiss was hungrier, letting her hands tangle into his hair as he pulled her by the waist. When they pulled away once more, she attempted to conceal her excitement by biting her lip, but then quickly gave up and laughed. The sounds of triumph and celebration resumed as Ron’s thumb traced her jawline. “You know,” He started, as he brushed a loose strand of hair from her face, “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.” Red coated her cheeks, letting her gaze settle on his, “I’m glad you did.” Fred and George interrupted them with a loud roar. Fred nudged at his twin’s side, his hand outstretched, “Five galleons, George,” they chuckled.

They won their first match, but Ron won [Y/N]’s heart too.

[h0ly-fire]

I don't know if this has been talked about yet, but Ilvermorny set in the Appalachia. I mean Hogwarts may have scary creatures in the Forbidden Forest, but can you imagine the eldrich horrors that would reside within Appalachia? Just imagine an Ilvermorny student minding their business walking along the forest edge; they hear a noise and turn, and low and behold it's a windigo or a skinwalker about to strike. Anywho this was just something I wanted to talk about... let me know what you think.

[floriansflower]

if there was someone from ilvermorny was at hogwarts during the golden trio era or someone in the era had some brain and a gun voldemort would have been dead much sooner like god damn

[xxplaugexx]

someone threw me into harry potter again and it’s got me thinking about blaise zambini’s twin sister that grew up in america.

her name’s probably something like scarlet

correlated but like not really

when their mom and dad separated blaise stayed with his mom in london and she went with her dad to new york

she saw blaise every christmas and new years (and he came to ny every random thursday in november after she begged her dad to celebrate thanksgiving cause she’d heard around school)

she went to ilvermorny cause obviously she did, this is hp fanfiction

she was a proud thunderbird before her dad decided that she needed to go back to london

now she’s at howarts, is with her brother as a slytherin with her brother

and has every slytherin boy wrapped around her finger

(and paying for her nails cause that shit’s expensive)

[synergysilhouette]

Do you think 2 wizarding schools is enough for the Americas?

I made a post about Ilvermorny a little while ago, and one of my guesses is (based on the NA population I found) it would house over 54,000 students. Not bad, but even still I think one school for each continent isn't realistic. I could see Ilvermorny housing wizards/witches from the USA (and related territories), but not Mexico and Canada, due to their differing cultures. I'd probably make a wizarding school in Canada (I'd call it Couerderenne, or "Reindeer's Heart" in French; IDK if the name should be English or French; it's English name could be Reinheart), as well as a wizarding school in Mexico that accepted students from all over Central America (I'll call it Ventanagua, based on ventana de agua, or "water window," inspired by a Mexican belief I heard about that throwing a bucket of water out the window signifies throwing out the old year and welcoming in the new).

As for South America, I'd probably put a school in Colombia to represent Spanish-speaking wizarding communities in the continent (I'll call it Amarillaposa, based on Mariposa Amarilla, or yellow butterflies, a symbol of hope and peace in Colombia; perhaps too long a name), as well as keeping Castelobruxo in Brazil (kinda confused on why the name is Portuguese when it was founded before major Portuguese settlement), and since the other non-Spanish-speaking countries are smaller, I'd probably have them go to the schools of the colonial countries (ie Suriname students go to wizarding schools in the Netherlands, Guyana and Falkland Islands in the UK, French Guiana in France, etc.)

How do you think this would work out?

[aesthetics-for-harry-potter]

Moodboard of a Catholic Aries girl who is sorted into the Pukwudgie house at Ilvermorny.

Requested by: @freckleocalypse

[thatsoanjie]

In the stillness of the night

Sebastian Sallow x reader

Summary : Haunted by a dream, Sebastian reaches out in the dead of night, hoping that your presence can quiet his restless mind.

Word count : 1 455

Notes : I know most of my fics are drabble length... I just want to get these ideas out of my head so I can go to sleep better at night 😂 also, glad you've been enjoying what I've been putting out!

Read my disclaimer and fair use notice here

The night was still, the cool breeze slipping through your partially open window, carrying with it the whispers of the ancient walls of Hogwarts. You were cocooned in your bed, the blankets pulled up to your chin, the world outside nothing more than a distant murmur as you drifted through dreams.

But even in the most peaceful of nights, darkness has a way of finding cracks in the armor of sleep.

A gentle tapping echoed in the quiet of your room, persistent yet soft, pulling you from the comforting depths of slumber. It was a sound that belonged not to your dreams, but to the waking world. Slowly, you blinked your eyes open, the familiar shadows of your room coming into focus, illuminated only by the pale moonlight streaming through the window.

The tapping continued, more insistent now, drawing your gaze to the foot of your bed. There, perched elegantly on the bedpost, was Brescia—Sebastian’s dark brown barred owl. Her amber eyes gleamed in the low light, watching you with a quiet urgency that made your heart skip a beat.

Without hesitation, you sat up, your movements careful as you reached for the parchment tied to Brescia’s leg. Your fingers trembled slightly as you untied it, the rough texture of the parchment familiar yet charged with something new—something urgent.

As you unrolled the note, Sebastian’s handwriting jumped out at you, hurried and slightly smudged:

Meet me at the boathouse. Please. I need you.

The simple words sent a shiver down your spine, an unspoken desperation clinging to each letter. Without wasting another second, you threw on your cloak, the urgency of his message propelling you out of bed. You gave Brescia a gentle stroke, murmuring a quick thanks before slipping silently out of your room.

The castle was a labyrinth of shadows and moonlight, the corridors empty and still as you moved through them with a practiced grace. The air was thick with the weight of secrets, every creak of the ancient floorboards echoing louder than it should have in the silence. You knew the risks—being caught out of bed at this hour was no small matter, especially with Headmaster Black prowling the halls like a hawk. But your concern for Sebastian outweighed the danger.

You reached for your wand, whispering the incantation for the Disillusionment Charm. The magic rippled over your skin, cloaking you in near-invisibility, just as Sebastian had taught you. It was a spell he’d insisted you master, and now, as you moved through the castle undetected, you silently thanked him for his insistence.

The grand staircase loomed ahead, and you paused, listening carefully for any signs of movement. The silence was thick, almost oppressive, but you caught the faint sound of footsteps—heavy, deliberate. Your heart raced as you recognized the gait of Headmaster Black, his silhouette barely visible as he patrolled the corridors. You pressed yourself against the wall, holding your breath as he passed, oblivious to your presence.

Once the headmaster was out of sight, you released a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding and continued on your way, slipping past sleeping portraits and silent suits of armor. The journey was tense, your heart pounding in your chest, but the thought of Sebastian waiting for you kept you moving.

Finally, you reached the boathouse, the wooden structure standing solitary and quiet by the edge of the Black Lake. The door creaked softly as you pushed it open, the sound almost too loud in the stillness of the night. The moonlight streamed in, casting long, silvery shadows across the wooden floor.

Sebastian was there, standing at the edge of the dock, his back to you. He stood close to the water, his gaze fixed on the lake's surface, his posture tense. His hands hung loosely at his sides, his fingers flexing as if battling the weight of whatever haunted him. He didn’t turn as you approached, the night air heavy with the unspoken tension between you.

“Sebastian,” you called softly, your voice barely more than a whisper, but it carried across the stillness of the boathouse.

He didn’t turn immediately, but you saw the way his shoulders tensed further, as if bracing himself. When he finally looked over his shoulder, the expression on his face made your heart clench. There was something raw and unguarded in his eyes, something he was struggling to contain.

“You came,” he said, his voice low, the usual playful lilt missing from his tone. He tried to smile, but it was a pale imitation of his usual smirk.

“Of course I did,” you replied, stepping closer to him. “What happened? Why did you ask me to come here?”

He turned back to the lake, his grip on the railing tightening until his knuckles turned white. “It’s nothing,” he said, his tone too casual, too forced. “Just… couldn’t sleep. Thought some fresh air might help clear my head. Figured I might as well have some company.”

“Sebastian,” you said, your voice gentle but firm, “this isn’t like you. What’s really going on?”

He was silent for a long moment, the only sound the gentle lapping of the lake against the dock. Then, with a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of the world, he turned to face you fully, his eyes locking onto yours.

“I had a nightmare,” he admitted, his voice rough with emotion. “A nightmare about losing you. You were gone, and I couldn’t do anything to bring you back. It—it felt so real.”

Your heart ached at the pain in his voice, the vulnerability he was trying so hard to hide. You reached out, placing a hand on his arm, your touch gentle but grounding. “It was just a dream, Sebastian,” you said softly. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

He looked down at where your hand rested on his arm, his gaze softening as he finally allowed himself to lean into your touch. “I didn’t want to be alone,” he confessed, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Not after that.”

“You don’t have to be,” you assured him, your thumb brushing lightly against his skin. “Come with me.”

He hesitated, his eyes searching yours for something—reassurance, perhaps, or maybe just a reason to believe that you meant what you said. Whatever it was, he found it, because he nodded, a small, almost relieved smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Alright,” he said quietly. “Lead the way.”

You took his hand, your fingers intertwining with his as you led him back through the castle. The journey was silent, your movements cautious as you navigated the dark corridors, the disillusionment charm still clinging to you both like a protective cloak. But the silence wasn’t uncomfortable—if anything, it was comforting, a shared secret between the two of you.

When you reached the Room of Requirement, the door appeared as if it had been waiting for you, warm and inviting. You pushed it open, leading Sebastian inside without a word, letting the room shape itself to your needs.

The room was cozy, a safe haven bathed in soft, golden light. A large, plush bed was positioned by a bay window that overlooked the viaduct and the Black Lake, the moonlight spilling in to dance across the floor. The air was warm, the faint scent of cedar and vanilla filling the space, wrapping around you like a comforting embrace.

Sebastian hesitated at the threshold, his eyes taking in the room with a quiet awe. He turned to you, his expression softer now, the tension in his shoulders slowly melting away. “This is perfect,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

You smiled, leading him to the bed and pulling back the covers. “Come on,” you said softly. “Let’s get some rest.”

He didn’t need any more prompting. Together, you slipped into the bed, the warmth of the blankets enveloping you both. The room was quiet, the only sound the gentle crackling of the fire in the hearth, the soft glow of the moonlight spilling across the floor.

Sebastian curled up beside you, his head resting on your shoulder, his arm draped across your waist as if anchoring himself to you. He was being especially touchy tonight, his fingers lightly tracing patterns on your skin, as if afraid you might slip away if he let go. He pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your temple, the gesture so tender it made your heart swell.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice a mere breath against your skin. “For being here. For… everything.”

You turned your head slightly, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead in return. “Always,” you murmured, your voice filled with the promise he needed to hear. “I’m always here for you.”

***

Cue "aaawww". Anyways, requests are open :P Idk if you've noticed my posting schedule, but I have one new fic coming out every Monday at 4pm Eastern time!

Thank you for reading, we shall meet again in my next endeavour.

[mieladraws]

Drawing my gryffindor girlypop named Faye! Colored & Sketch

[myadmiringmind]

Thunderbird House

Ilvermorny Masterlist

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(All photos found on Pinterest)

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Founded by Chadwick Boot

Favors Adventurers

Represents the Soul

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How I see Thunderbirds:

Deja Vu

I believe they’re old souls

They yearn for adventure and discovery

They are always asking “What else is there?”

They want to make memories

Love language: Quality Time

They find it hard to stay on track because of all the things they are thinking about

Love to make up stories

I think they go more for the Fantasy genre

But I can also see them being history lovers

Pirates, dragon riders, sailors

They want to try stuff out even if they know they shouldn’t but they’re just super curious

Knows better but wants to make dumb decisions

But finds it ridiculous if others do stupid stuff

If they don’t feel that connection with you they’re dissatisfied

They try to read people after they first meet them

Not good at expressing emotions

They feel deeply though

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edited on 04/30/24

[yorsun]

I want to add in my two cents about the American wizarding world.

It has been said before but there is NO WAY there is only one American wizarding school, there just isn’t. France and Britain got their own school, why on earth would each state in the US not have its own school. I’m being so fr. They’d maybe even have two schools depending on the state’s population size. Each state could be its own country both with the physical size of the state as well as the population density, so that’s my headcannon.