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blitheringmcgonagall · 2 years

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@jilytoberfest microfic prompts & 31 prompts…

Prompts #1-4

Prompts 5 (climb) & 6 (“Why do you have two ice cream scoops but not any food?”)

“Good evening, er, Mr Black. How kind of you to call in for a… chat. A problem, you say? May I be of assistance?” Dumbledore asked, periwinkle eyes curious as he reached over for the sweets. “Lemon sherbet?”

Sirius Black shook his head.

“A problem. Of the very irritating, long-standing variety. And I know how to fix it!”

“I see,” the old man’s eyes twinkled, and Sirius noted how simultaneously amused and shrewd they could look.

“Yes. Well, the fact is that Evans and Potter have been mad about each other for ages, at least for all of 6th year and frankly, I’m sick of it. I know you are too. Lost a bet with Flitwick in April, didn’t you?”

Dumbledore stared at him.

“Flitwick pays me a retention fee to keep him updated on their progress. I was able to appraise him of the fact that diddly squat had changed since March, February, Christmas - you get my drift,” Sirius said.

The fact that the professors had a betting pool which included among other things - whether the marauders would successfully pull off a splendid prank without getting caught, whether Hagrid managed to find a new dangerous beast to befriend, or whether his stupid friends managed to get a life and start dating - wasn’t that surprising. It just proved to him that most grown ups led extremely boring and unstimulating existences.

Mind you, those were more or less the kinds of pointless things they themselves bet on - Peter had won a galleon last week for betting Dumbledore would buy a new pair of roller skates before the NEWTs started. And he had won two galleons for betting that David Bowie would climb to number one in the muggle charts and that Evans and Diggory would be toast before the Equinox (so what if he’d had a hand in the ending of that blight of a relationship? Evans had been telling MacDonald that she wanted to break it off in a gentle manner before he’d gotten involved. He had simply speeded the whole train wreck…)

“Anyway, the fact is, you need to make Prongs Head Boy next year,” he finished triumphantly.

“I see.”

“Yes, it’s very simple. Evans is definitely going to be Head Girl, correct?”

Dumbledore hesitated.

“Don’t even bother denying it, Sir, professor Slughorn told us last week. She’s outstanding.”

“Yes, um, that may be correct,” the headmaster replied cautiously.

Of course Slughorn had said no such thing.

“Excellent,” Sirius grinned. “But as for Head Boy… there’s no obvious candidate, is there?”

Dumbledore regarded him silently.

“I mean, you and I both know Remus Lupin would be a great Head Boy, but you’d never risk giving it to him. Plus he’d hate all the attention and he’d be terrified someone would find out about his furry little problem, and he’d feel too guilty having someone else do his duties on full moons and all that.”

He stopped. Dumbledore hummed in possible agreement.

“The Slytherins this year are all a bunch of Voldy-supporting, bigoted wankers - no offence intended,” he said, raising his eyebrow in challenge.

Dumbledore raised his palms and shrugged.

“Ha! The Ravenclaw chaps this year are all far too introverted to want to boss everyone about. The only good candidate in Hufflepuff is Diggory,” he grimaced. “And frankly that chap is far too irritating, he already got hexed through the Veil and back on five occasions so far this year. If he makes Head Boy, he’s screwed.”

Dumbledore looked glum.

“Which leaves Gryffindor. What you need is a strong, well liked character you can rely on. Someone who knows how to lead and is experienced in managing a team under difficult circumstances. Someone who is a pureblood- those bastards would throw a fit if one muggleborn head girl is appointed, let alone another less than thoroughly inbred fellow - yet somehow manages to hate bigotry and has a record of standing up against mini Death Eaters in this school.

Someone with positivity coming out of his arse. The type who sees a thunderstorm and starts talking about the benefits of a cold shower. You know, sees the best in all his fellow students despite being surprisingly and unexpectedly intelligent to boot? The sort of chap who is always looking for solutions, tenacity to beat the band, and gives most people third chances and whatnot. And yet, unbelievably, is practically universally well liked and respected. At least half of the wankers who dislike him still fancy him rotten. Which only leaves the usual suspects - and frankly, you and I both know that if you appointed someone they approved of, we’d all be screwed.”

Dumbledore shifted in his chair, hands steepled in front of him.

“You really think he’d be Head Boy material?”

Sirius rolled his eyes.

“Yes. He’d hate it. And so would I. But he’d do a damned good job of it.”

“When I mentioned Mr Potter as a possible option, Professor McGonagall expressed grave concern about the amount of pressure he’d be under, were he to retain the title of Gryffindor Quidd- “

“Don’t be ridiculous, Sir, you’d have to pry the Gryffindor Quidditch Captaincy from his cold dead hands.”

“On that, I do agree with you, Mr Black.”

“Of course you do, you’re not an idiot, unlike bloody Prongs,” Sirius sniffed.

“Hmm, I’m not sure we want an idiot as Head Boy,” Dumbledore mused, leaning forward.

“Well of course not, frightfully irritating. I’m ready to hex his ball- ballast off! But if they get to be Heads together? I guarantee the best working relationship of any Head Persons in the past fifty years, plus a top tip in your betting pool… situation.”

Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled.

“Top tip?”

“Life hack,” Sirius nodded, hand outstretched. “Do we have deal, Sir?”

Dumbledore leant back into his armchair and smiled benevolently.

“I had, of course, been planning on giving Mr Potter that role since he managed to fight off your cousin Bellatrix’s rather dangerous attack on students in Hogsmeade in April. Do you think you could also pass on a few useful tips concerning Hagrid’s latest furry friends?”

Wiley bastard.

“Consider it done, Sir.”

Dumbledore stood and shook his hand.

“And what about you, Mr Black - you don’t fancy the role of Head Boy yourself, do- “

“Haha! Godric’s gonads, no way in hell!” Sirius snorted aloud. “Dealing with horse manure from all sorts of shady bastards and always resisting the urge to hex them all? Attempting civil conversations with the likes of Snape? Mulciber? Wilkes? I’d rather eat Hippogrif dung with raw billywig maggots, er, no offence, Sir.”

“None taken, Mr Black, none whatsoever,” the Professor replied mildly. “Some celebratory ice-cream, perhaps?”

“Thank you, Sir.”

The door closed behind him with a jaunty slam.

“Yessssss! Operation Smitten Idiots is a go!” Sirius punched the air with his fist and grinned in elated triumph. “They better fucking name me best man AND godfather to their first born, or there shall be war!”

“What are you on about, Padfoot?” the most idiotic half of the Smitten Duo asked as he rounded the corner, ice-cream cone in his hand.

“Abraxan racing results, Prongs, Best Man came first.” he said, winking at Remus, licking the chocolate and raspberry ripple.

Remus stared at him (mind you, Remus was very partial to chocolate, so that was the most obvious reason why he’d stare at his lips, wasn’t it?).

“Why do you have two ice cream scoops but not any food?” Remus asked, clearing his throat.

“I merely entertained our Headmaster with witty conversation and he felt obliged to give me ice cream by way of thanks.”

“Good news, then? Do we get an extra day off for Merpeople National Feast Day, or whatever barmy idea you came up with?” Prongs asked, pushing himself off the wall with his foot.

“Don’t be ridiculous, old chap.”

“Well why are you looking so pleased with yourself then?” His best friend rolled his eyes and scuffed his shoe against the stone pavement.

“Top secret, Prongs my deer, top secret!”

#jilytober #jilytober2022 fic #fluff and idiocy #smitten idiots #sirius is the best wingman #poor fellow is having to pull out all the stops #blithering idiots #marauders #jilytober fest #jily

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betterdonutgalaxy · 4 months

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i think the funniest thing about the hex is that old man yaoi is greatly implied between mr squarrel and mr shrewd

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leafytaffyart · 2 years

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A story in two panels

#Based off that one text post that I can’t find again for some reason #Weasel kid #super weasel kid #the hex #the hex game #mr shrewd #Moji #Moji jr #Moji the hex #daniel mullins games #Daniel Mullins the hex #fanart #comic

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scover-va · 2 years

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“You’re special, kid. But don’t let it get to your head.”

“You see what people are saying, right? They don’t like you as much as they used to.” “I don’t care what people think, man!” “Why do I find that so…unconvincing.”

Yknow I think abt these dialogues a lot and how they hint towards Lionel’s character arc thru Walk. Just sayin

#the hex #super weasel kid #the hex mr shrewd #the hex jeremiah #lionel snill #scov.txt

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dreaming-voices · 3 years

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hey, you sent me an ask so im curious with you - do you have any headcanons for the hex? no specific characters or anything in mind, just go nuts!

Oh my god yes yes!! I have!! So many!!!! Sorry tit took me so long to answer, it’s been BUSY. I still have LOTS more, but here are some that are constantly in my mind.

ANYWAYS.

Oh they totally live together now, after everything that’s happened. Murderers and murder accomplices gotta stick together, y’know? Both Reggie and Jeremiah are super grateful for the extra company.

Despite technically being the second oldest of them all, swk is just… a kid. A teen at best. He thinks he’s super independent. And he is. He thinks he doesn’t need anyone’s help. And for the most part he DOESN’T. BUT. There are times when he Needs An Adult. Everyone’s more than willing to pitch in and give him Advice (even if the quality of said advice is debatable at times), but it can be frustrating and even a little bit painful. SWK can be REALLY stubborn.

Most of the time, it’s Lazarus who’s the adult SWK ends up going to. He just feels most at ease with him, and he trusts him the most. And Lazarus does like the kid. They become pretty close over time.

Speaking of relationships, SWK is somewhat scared of making new connections. Between what happened to him, his game, and Mr. Shrewd, he’s built up A LOT of walls. Bottles up his emotions QUITE a bit too.

Yes he still misses Mr. Shrewd. How dare anyone suggest otherwise? He misses him a lot. Nothings ever gonna fill that hole.

He actually wasn’t planning on staying at the inn at first. Or if he really REALLY had to stay, it would just be a day or two, until he figured out what to do. It is just… too awkward, too… guilt-ridden. Reggie never went TOO into detail about what happened to him with everyone when he first invited them to the cabin, just enough for them to trust and help him and enough to make the game, but still… SWK was able to piece some things together and get an idea of what happened by the time the game was ready. Logically, he knew it wasn’t really his fault, but still, it KINDA feels like his fault. He tries not to show it, but it weighs on him a bit.

Reggie was the one who brought it up again, just to SWK, after everything was said and done. He wanted to clear the air, make it clear that he doesn’t blame SWK for what happened. He DID, at one point. He was really REALLY bitter for the longest time, but as he watched SWK’s rise and fall (as well as everyone else’s), it became apparent that SWK wasn’t the issue and has never been the issue, and SWK shouldn’t blame himself. And while hearing that didn’t completely get rid the guilt, it did make SWK feel… a bit better, and he was a bit more comfortable about staying. (It made more sense to stay anyways. Better to stick together through whatever comes next than separating from the group and fending for himself)

#the hex #mullinsverse #super weasel kid #pretty super weasel kid centric tbh #I have lots of thoughts on the others too I just need more time to jot them down #gonna make a part 2 probably #sorry this took so long!!!!!

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annerbhp · 6 years

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H/G, "You don't have to stay."

Ginny navigates her way across the crowded room. Theballroom is rather impressive, with candles floating up in the high ceiling,rich fabrics draping the walls. The most powerful and famous figures in thesporting world are here—players, coaches, owners, and journalists alike.

Ludo Bagman currently holds court over by an ice sculptureoff a Bludger chasing a Snitch in an endless game of tag. A shrewd-lookinggroup of owners in expensive robes sit around a table eyeing each other and nodoubt brokering deals what will shape the next season of Quidditch.

For now, the season is at an end, and Ginny is glad of it,looking forward to a little break from her grueling training schedule. Havingmade her rounds of the room, saying hello to teammates and friends, doing herduty to schmooze politely with various important contacts, she is now in searchof far more pleasant company.

She’s nearly across the room when she’s stopped by a hand onher arm. “Miss Weasley,” the wizard says, drawing her name out, his fingertrailing down her bare arm.

Ginny forces a smile on her face, though she doubts it’sexactly friendly. “Mr. Tate,” she says, turning to look at the wizard only afew years younger than herself dressed in robes that are no doubt moreexpensive than the entire value of the Burrow. “How is your father?”

An innocent question on the surface, but she knows how muchhe hates to be reminded that his father is the one who owns the Appleby Arrowsand not him. He’s always enjoyed pretending he’s more important than he reallyis.

Sure enough, his smile slips, but then so do his eyes. Asin, he’s staring at her chest rather than her face. She can’t really blame himall that much; her dress is rather spectacular.

“Father does well as always. He trusts me to keepthings,”—his hand slips lower down her arm—“running smoothly.”

“Hmm,” Ginny says, moving out of reach and suppressing ashudder of revulsion. “And does he know that you’re out after curfew?”

His face flushes, and she knows she shouldn’t have said it,but he bloody well shouldn’t have touched her either. There could beconsequences, pissing this particular arsehole off, but somehow she justdoesn’t care. She’s a Harpy, not an Arrow, and any goodwill she needs from himfor national play and recognition just isn’t worth it.

He’s looking angry now, but before he can say anything thatwill prod her into even less subtle retaliation, Ginny casually drops in, “Nowif you’ll excuse me, I need to find my boyfriend.”

This has the intended effect, everyone knowing just whoGinny Weasley, upcoming Chaser for the Harpies, is romantically involved with,thanks to the invasive media. Mr. Tate straightens up a bit, the red flush ofanger fading, leaving him looking a little pale.

He tugs at the edge of his collar. “Oh, is he here? I hadn’trealized.” He glances around, looking equally eager and horrified.

Ginny somehow manages not to roll her eyes, insteadgesturing vaguely off in the direction she’d been heading before he stopped her.She doesn’t actually know where Harry is at the moment, but he’s definitelyhere somewhere.

“Well,” Mr. Tate says, recovering his slimy composure. “Do sayhello for me.”

No chance of that,Ginny thinks, hating herself for using Harry’s name this way. He wouldn’t mind,she knows. But she minds. Being forcedinto stooping that low just makes her hate the bloody spoiled brat even more.

She bites back another parting shot encouraging him to askfor some warm milk at the bar, instead resuming her trek across the crowdedballroom. See? She’s learning tact. She’s like a real grown up and everything.

She finally locates Harry at the far side of the room. He’sretreated so his back is pressed against the wall, his arms crossed formidably overhis chest. It’s working too, to judge from the pocket of space around him.People are clearly too intimidated to approach.

He isn’t dressed in the thick wool and leather of his Auroruniform tonight, rather in simply and elegantly cut black dress robes, but hestill radiates the feeling that he is on duty, his eyes narrowed to slits as hesurveys the room with an air of bored indifference.

He’s not on duty, of course, but rather here as her plusone. Ginny recognizes his pose as the ‘I’m stuck out in public at a socialevent and really really hate it’ posture. Meaning that he has his back pressedagainst the wall not so much to keep from getting snuck up on by a dark wizardas to protect his bum from getting grabbed. Again. She’s pretty sure Marlena’sgotten him twice this evening already.

Ginny can feel the moment his attention shifts to her as shenears, even as his posture doesn’t change in the slightest.

Having just returned from a long mission somewhere Merlinknows where, Ginny assumes he’s exhausted. Not to mention not keen to share herwith an entire room full of people.

There are definitely other places she would rather be withhim right now.

“Having fun?” she asks as she steps up next to him.

“Loads,” he says, voice dry.

“Well,” Ginny says, “neither of us have hexed anyone yet, soI think we should take that as a win.”

He lets out a derisive snort. “Oh, I’m making a list.” Hiseyes trail down her arm, unerringly taking the same path Mr. Tate’s hand hadtaken, and she knows he didn’t miss a moment of that little interaction.

“We’ll have to compare lists later,” she says lightly. “Noneed to double up on anyone.”

His face contorts with what she realizes is an attempt tohold back a yawn. She eyes his face, noting how exhausted he looks. He hasn’tbothered to shave, but she isn’t sure how much of that is laziness and how muchis an attempt to look even less approachable.

“You don’t have to stay,” she says.

His head doesn’t turn, just his eyes latching onto her face witha mix of incredulity and anger. “Not bloody likely.”

“I doubt Mr. Tate will try anything again, not the way I’mbrazenly throwing your good name around.”

Harry’s eyes seem to flash with something that could besatisfaction. “I’m not worried about Mr. Tate.”

“Ah, yes,” Ginny says, her voice coming out surprisinglybitter. “No one wants to risk incurring Harry Potter’s wrath.”

They still refer to her as ‘Harry Potter’s girl’ in thepapers sometimes. Eleven-year-old her would be ecstatic. Twenty-one-year-oldher is far less enthused, wondering if she’ll ever be seen as anything otherthan an appendage.

Harry leans slightly towards her. “If they had half a brain,they’d be more afraid of your wrath.”

Against her will, Ginny feels her lips twitch into a smile.“So then why hang about when you’re clearly miserable if not to protect me fromhandsy arseholes?”

His gaze sweeps her body, having quite the opposite effectas Mr. Tate’s attention. “You mean besides getting to see you in this dress?”

She slides him a look. He’s seen her in far less, and willagain very soon if she has anything to say about it. “You know you can have afashion show whenever you like. A private one.” She considers him. “Or are youenjoying looking but not being able to touch?”

He finally unfolds enough to wrap an arm around her waist,his fingers unerringly finding the small cutout at her lower back. “But you’vemade touching so convenient,” he says, voice lowering.

Harry isn’t one for public displays, but that doesn’t stopher traitorous heart from speeding up in anticipation. They’ve been apart formore than a week, after all.

He draws her closer, his head lowering to her ear. “I’mexhausted and would definitely rather be alone with you anywhere else on theplanet and am probably very close to causing a scene if one more person pissesme off.”

Ginny can’t stop her eyes from closing at the littletraitorous thrill she feels at his closeness. “My original statement stands.You don’t have to stay.”

“I’m not going anywhere until I see my girlfriend rightly crownedbest Quidditch player of all time.”

“I’m only up for breakout star of the season,” she correctswith a laugh, “and I may not win.”

Harry pulls his arm away, and Ginny tries not to make asound of protest even though she knows this is hardly the location for more. Hesettles back into his crossed-arm pose of brooding. “You damn well will.”

His certainty fills her chest with warmth.

He flicks his hand, making a little shooing motion. “Now goaway and dazzle the crowd while I remain taciturn and off-putting.”

She looks at him fondly. “Okay,” she agrees. “But you knowthis act is only going to work for so long.”

His composure breaks just long enough for him to smile ather, the real Harry shining through for a moment. “Just so long as it workswell enough to keep my bum safe until you win.”

She can’t help herself, stepping up against him and kissinghim solidly, letting her body press fully against his. As much as she wants to,especially when Harry’s hands find her waist, she doesn’t linger, stepping backaway before she can embarrass him.

Harry looks endearingly befuddled by her surprise attackdespite the brevity of her attentions, one of his hands still stubbornly on herhip.

“Careful, love,” she says with a smile, “your disguise isslipping.”

He scowls, pulling his arms back into his chest. “We’rehaving words about this later,” he says, trying to sound stern but the warmsparkle in his eyes completely ruining the effect.

“Oh, I was hoping for far more than words,” she says, givinghim a wink.

He makes a low sound of protest. “Go away,” he says.

She laughs. “You know you’ll miss me.”

“You have no idea,” he mutters.

She takes mercy on him then, strolling back out into thecrowd, but not without looking back at him. Harry has once again settled backinto his defensive pose, already glaring at someone who has dared to sidlecloser.

She’s glad he’s staying, even if she wishes he didn’t haveto submit himself to so much scrutiny. One would think his hero status might fadeover time, but people seem as interested in him as ever, much to his chagrin.

Fortunately the period for mingling ends soon after sheleaves him, an emcee stepping up on the podium and beginning the officialceremony. The trophy for the league champions will be handed out—the damnMagpies already look smug and pleased with themselves. But there are a fewother awards, like most valuable player, standout defense, most impressivesnitch catch, and others. Including breakout star, which Ginny is up for.

She’s honored, of course, but also knows she’s worked herarse off for years to earn her starter position, and then to demonstrate thatshe deserves to be taken seriously. Her nomination goes a long way towardsacknowledging that.

When they call her name out to announce that she’s won, shefeels an intense beat of satisfaction, of having proven herself. She takes thestage—managing not to trip or anything—aware of her teammates slapping her onthe arm, of people clapping for her.

She takes the crystal trophy from the emcee and looks outover the crowd, and there Harry is in the thick of it, no longer hiding in thecorner. He has his fingers in his mouth, whistling a high pitch that rises farabove the polite applause of the crowd as he bounces on his heels.

Unfortunatelythe emcee notices Harry too. “It seems we have an esteemed guest with us in thecrowd tonight,” he gushes.

Everyonenot already staring at him turns to look, and Harry’s beginning to look alittle sheepish, like he definitely didn’t mean to draw that much attention tohimself but couldn’t help it in his excitement.

Itoccurs to Ginny as she watches him that Harry’s brooding act wasn’t just abouthating parties and attention. It was about not stealing her thunder. He stoodhuddled up against that wall so she could talk to people without being Harry Potter’sgirl.

Shefeels her throat close up with how much she loves this ridiculous, wonderfulman.

“Ofcourse,” the emcee says, “he is a man who needs no introduction.”

“I shouldhope not,” Ginny says with just enough asperity to make the crowd laugh. “Hemay have collected a lot of titles over the years, but I think we can all agreewhich one is the most important.”

“Andwhich is that?” the emcee asks with a smile, apparently content that he knowsthe answer. The Chosen One. The savior. The hero. The Boy Who Lives.

Ginnydoesn’t look away from Harry’s smiling face. “Ginny Weasley’s number one fan.”

A fewpeople in the crowd look horrified, thinking she’s making light of hisaccomplishments, no doubt, but Harry just nods enthusiastically in agreement,nudging the guy next to him and saying, “That’s right.”

The emceeclears his throat. “Well, okay. Uh, shall we talk about your greatest momentson the pitch this season?”

Ginnysmiles. “Sounds like a plan.”

#harry/ginny #hinny #annerbfic #well look at me writing little ficlets #though this one is not exactly angsty #i assume weatheredskies will be okay with that

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hunterartemis · 5 years

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The Assistant: Chapter 8: Silver and Diamond

Word Limit: 5152

Summary: This is the Night that will be known not only the one that changed the fates of Two Nations, but also four lives

Chapter Theme: Vasily by Martin Phipps https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GeA8K6sACiA

“May I have this dance, Miss Goldstein” Tina’s brows crinkled slightly with this most unlikely of proposal. She started to wonder what she did owned to this unlikely of pleasure, and most importantly… why Newt’s brother from all the people. She could sense a subtle politics behind it, but chose to think that it was beneath her.

As if Theseus could hear what Tina was thinking, he took his lips near Tina’s ears and whispered “It’s a changing dance, Tina… we may get the chance with the ones we really want… so” he straightened up to sport a natural courteous manner “are you in?”

Tina hesitated for a moment then without losing another word glided with Theseus into the dance floor.

He and Tina positioned themselves and started to glide to the rhythm and waited for the fated moment they all waited for. As the beat changed and their desired ones came closer, they looked at each other with a peculiar glance that looked shrewd and anticipating at the same time. One moment passed and then from the closest of quarters Theseus and Tina would drift apart from them. And he couldn’t resist the temptation to talk with the woman he was dancing with.

“So... you must be wondering why the man you hexed so badly six months ago is getting so friendly.” Theseus asked, swallowing his nervousness, “remember miss Goldstein, this is not a simple dance” he masterfully led Tina through the six principles steps around the circle, “in fact most important of society’s decision are made during dances. There is something mesmerising and distracting about it, that its motion stirs our rowdy mind and deposits all our thoughts at the bottom of the calmest part of our mind.” Tina, whose height rose up to Theseus’ eyes, looked at him with an unknown stare, “you are quite a philosopher Mr. Scamander… and it seems that you are not as short tempered as you seemed in the French Ministry” she let go off his hand and paired herself with a blond man.

“Does that surprise you…?” Theseus added with a smirk, peering over the shoulder of his current dance partner. With that passing inquisition, Tina’s eyes flashed with a certain severity which made Theseus almost regret his choice of words, but instead of a harsh reply, the woman counter questioned him quite smoothly.

“No… I would be a fool if it didn’t. I don’t pretend to understand a man I met only once. I wager even my legilimens sister would be able to figure out the whole in that short amount of time.” Tina added with a sarcastic smile “The only thing that surprises me that, why are you bothered to talk with me at all?” she said, while they once again united.

Theseus lowered his eyes in a mock embarrassment, “ah… the things we do for love, don’t we?” his eyes oddly fixated on the face of Tina, as if to imply she was in the same situation as he was, “we pretend, deny and avoid and the wretched thing keeps pulling us to it despite ourselves to make complete fools out of us...”he remarked abjectly as he changed his stance to go counter clockwise, contrasting with the inner circle of the waltzers, “look at them...” he glanced towards Newt and Maxine in the inner circle, “I envy them so much...”

“You don’t say...” Tina smiled sardonically and then changed her tone to reply assertively “we look at the people who truly belong to us and curse at our fates.”

“Oh no... You misunderstand me completely” Theseus denied, “I didn’t envy them for that... I envy them because they are so natural with each other... as if they were two sides of the same coin.” Tina huffed a laugh, that kind of laugh that people laugh when they don’t really respect the other party, “isn’t that the same thing being in love... being the sides of the same coin or whatever crazy stuff you are saying?”

“Who said that they are in love?” Theseus anxiously commented while they changed partners again and changed position towards the inner circle. Although his frown was causing distress with his very pretty current partner, but his eyes didn’t notice anyone but Tina, who danced in an obligatory manner with a man with sleek hair and thin moustache. He impatiently led himself and his partner towards Tina and very tactfully switched, against the rule, leading Theseus’ partner to stomp away from the dance floor angrily.

“Who said they were in love...” like a relief after an exhaustive labour, Theseus’ previous agitation melted to a huff which made Tina a little taken aback with him.

“What is it then... what do you think is between them?” Tina asked again with her characteristic assertiveness.

“A game...” Theseus’ eyes looked towards the ivory figure of Maxine, waltzing gracefully with Newt at the centre of the circle where the chandelier of a thousand crystal lights shone all over them. Maxine was cleverly keeping Newt within the circle so that he could not change partners, “She is playing a game of flirtation and Newt is enjoying all the attention he can get from her... we are men Tina, we may love a woman deeply with all our heart, but if another beautiful...ravishing one gives us positive attention we can’t help but to admire her. The world condemns us to fulfil the role of the governor, the provider, and the stoic responsible ones, meant to do our duties without any qualm. We crave for someone who will take care of us” Theseus tore his eyes from them and towards Tina, “don’t you think so?”

“I think it is utterly stupid to feel something like this for someone so cruel...” Tina scoffed at Theseus.

“And you said you’d be stupid if you knew a man you met only once...” Theseus’ smirked at Tina’s uneasiness.

Some moments of silence passed between them as they glided through the inner circles, changing and then reverting to their original partners. However they could not penetrate inside the circle where Maxine ad Newt dazzlingly danced. Theseus could not help but to admire their chemistry. Maxine put Newt in an absolute ease, and Theseus knew he could not be in love with her; he knew Newt was still in love with Leta when Theseus and her were engaged. There were some hints of shame and flusters about him when she was around, avoidance, a denial and a pain; even since Newt was in Hogwarts, but not here. Newt was in love with Maxine, but not the sense Newt loved Leta or Tina for that matter. It was something very beautiful and inexplicable. After all, it was impossible to love Maxine like any other woman. That’s what he had thought all along.

That’s why he gave her up for Leta.

It was her own impossibility that never let Theseus reach to her.

And yet, the strange dichotomy of despair and the ever-burning yearning was always present in his heart.

After a few turns the waltz came to an end. Theseus forcefully tore his eyes from Maxine and bowed to Tina as an after dance etiquette.

“Your plan failed Mr. Scamander...” Tina spoke with a futility in her voice and sarcasm on her lips. Theseus didn’t even tried to conceal his annoyance and defeat to Tina; with desperation of a wretched man, he kissed Tina’s hands and silently walked towards the bar.

“Martini, dry” Theseus ordered emotionlessly and leaned on the counter pensively; his eyes suddenly veered towards a voice that was addressed to him.

“Can you believe the British Ministry, can’t do politics and now can’t even party decently...” Theseus was slightly offended because no matter whoever spoke this he, Theseus Scamander, would be a loyal member of the British ministry. He could not identify the accent because he sounded like a Englishman—Theseus’ intuition could mostly let the speaker be a sarcastic Scot or an over-enthusiastic Irish, but nothing other than that. “... and the booze, tastes like piss...”—or maybe an Irish wizard.

“Do I know you?” Theseus asked annoyingly taking his martini from the counter. His annoyance made him look up at the Speaker, he was a man who looked he was very close if not in his forties, well proportionate hexagonal face, high forehead and his icy blue-gray eyes sported a kind of feudal arrogance. He was very pale, and looked even paler under the white-gold lights, whose shadows cast a skull like contours upon his otherwise handsome face, and his platinum blond hair was arranged in careful pinned curled waves that reminded Theseus of both polishedness of a nobleman and ostentatious manners of a muggle flapper.

“...it’s unlikely...” the stranger replied, “I studied and served abroad: Germany, Bulgaria, Russia...anywhere but in this murk.” He was speaking without looking at Theseus, “but I know you...” he finally turned towards his neighbour “Theseus Scamander, die kriegsheld.” He led his hand towards him. Theseus did not like him very much, but as this party was an unofficial Pan-European diplomatic summit, lest he offend any foreign official and badly represent the British ministry, he took his hand and shook it anyways. The man didn’t sound like he was supporting the British Cause against Grindlewald.

“Nice to meet you Mr.--”

“Anatole Malfoy...” he spoke in a pompous tone and let go of his hand, “I have utmost respect for you Herr Scamander... but I think you have made a poor choice of standing on the wrong side.” Anatole added with a half smirk, “The British Tolerance Policy has always been ineffective, the most witch burning, heretics, inter-mixing with the mudbloods... and the pureblood-lines dying out because they were committing incest... this country is nothing but a joke.” Anatole huffed, “take them for example...” he pointed at a tall dark haired man with wavy shoulder-length locks dressed exquisitely in purple velvet and black leather, “Hrothgar Bartholomew Valois... a beacon of the European purebloods, married and related to some of the most finest of the pureblood families in Europe. He is married to an Orleans, his sons married from the houses of Orsini and Gruzinsky, but for what? The man is a lily-livered coward who cannot see the brighter times that are coming.”

“I am sorry, but aren’t Orsini and Gruzinsky families two of the most extremist pureblood groups? Then why they would be wed to the Valois?” Theseus, despite his disgust could not help but to know a little about Maxine’s family, which she kept a secret all her time. the reply came in a form of a most cryptic of tones “There are many things that wretched family has that none of the family nowadays has: wealth and influence over muggles. The Valoises are as well reputed in the Wizarding communities as they are amongst muggles. ” Anatole huffed in disrespect, “can you believe? The French Muggle Histories record some of their ancestors are French Kings, and apparently they have two branches of the family, muggle and wizard to get best of both worlds. Fucking fence sitters I tell you, but their wealth is to die for.” There was a stench of greed in Anatole’s voice.

“Very nice to meet you Mr. Malfoy...” Theseus downed his drink in one go, “and now if you’ll excuse me--”

“—and their daughter, Mademoiselle Maxine.” Anatole threw another comment in the air with a vicious pride, “such a ravishing piece of work isn’t she?” he stopped, “I have travelled far and wide across Europe, and I swear many purebloods will stake their lives to lie with her.”

Theseus stopped for a moment on his walk, looked back at him slightly and then walked away without any word. This evening was getting worse and worse by the moment for him. He walked towards the men’s washroom without registering his mind to others. After slamming the door shut after him, he banged his fist hard on the counter. He was angry, but this time he was not only just angry. Something else worked inside him, which he could not understand...

He looked up at the mirror and couldn’t recognise the face that looked back at him, a reddened angered face, glaring back at him with icy blue eyes. His brunet locks were astray and he shook like a madman; who was he? How did he descend down to this level? His vision suddenly started to blur a little and blood pounded so fast at his neck that it felt like he would faint. The moment between wake and unconscious seemed like eternity

He didn’t realise how long he was in that position until he heard random thuds at the door. Before he could go and react, someone came in with hurried steps. It was none other than his boss Travers; it seemed that he was a bit out of breath and sweaty, even in the Christmas cold, and he looked a little cross also, which comically reminded Theseus of the days when Travers didn’t got the reports within the deadline.

“There you are... I have been looking for you all around.” He exasperatedly asserted. Theseus, being a straightforward man asked his superior “why, what is the matter” in the most curious manner, and within seconds, like a sudden chill felt right after stepping outside, a fear crept inside his heart: it was a Pan-European peace summit, was something wrong with the Allegiance?

“Is everything all right?” came Theseus’ second question with a unintentional tenseness.

“Yes, yes of course...” Travers almost pulled Theseus out of the washroom by his shoulder, “The French High Secretary has been asking for you.”

Theseus was almost dragged to the middle of the hall, in front of a bunch of people. He recognised the man at the very front from his luxurious gray waves, who was facing his back towards Theseus and chatting with a bunch of other men, who looked like they were in high offices of their respective ministries.

“Your Excellency...” Travers bowed deeply to the man with wavy hair, and he turned towards him. The man had a nice proportionate face. He seemed to be nearing sixty, but his age could not mar the natural beauty that was graced by him. He had deep set dark eyes, and wavy grey man and beard and there was something pleasant about him. On the other hand, in that cordial outlook there was something else in him that made the onlooker to be wary and on their best behaviour.

“Ah, Travers mon ami...” his voice was low and melodious, “comment ca va...?” he grabbed Travers by both of his shoulders and patted them very strongly. There was something condescending about that friendly gesture that made Theseus even more uneasy. Travers was well known for his irascible and firm nature, this man was nullifying that within seconds.

“Votre Excellence, let me introduce you Theseus Scamander... the Deputy Head of the British Law Enforcement and the War Hero... and Theseus, this is His Excellency Hrothgar Bartholomew Valois, Duke of Angouleme.”

“Enchante...” Theseus beckoned his hand and Hrothgar Valois took it to shake with his gloves on.

“Monsieur Theseus, how kind of you to meet me... I have been very excited to meet you, after all in these troubled times we need men like you to protect the Wizarding Law from the kinds of Grindlewald” He gave a professional, as if very well rehearsed smile, and then he hug him by the shoulder, “come, I have some matters to discuss with you... would you do me the honour to sit by me?”

Theseus walked alongside Hrothgar, and it would be prudent to say that he was locked under Hrothgar’s strong arm, and even if he wanted to escape there was no way that he can without making a scene. He could almost hear Hrothgar smiling, and it gave him a sinister feeling that he considered Theseus nothing compared to him, an arm candy to be graced and shown off—but why? People his kind were always haughty and dissosiative, but this man was going all over the way to make him feel humiliated. He and Hrothgar were walking towards a giant golden oak door, which opened to the most glorious banquet hall. Theseus knew all about it and he had all the feelings of avoiding it, but circumstances were very different.

Maxine and Newt, who were a little weary after their second dance took a break and went to the counter to have some drink. After ordering a whiskey and a champagne, Maxine turned towards Newt with a smile of satisfaction.

“Ah... can you die of happiness?” Maxine chimed silverly catching the glint in Newt’s shy eyes, “I hope not, or else I will end up with no assistant again... I do not want to go through the interviews again.” Newt gave a little smile as if enjoying the witty remark he passed on about himself.

“Of course not, I won’t leave you a destitute...” Maxine changed her tone while veering towards the side aisle of the dance floor, “As expected, all my family is present as usual... look at the regalia of the French Diplomacy!” Maxine gave a sarcastic huff, but in spite of her, Newt looked curious about Maxine’s family.

“Your family is here...?” Newt asked curiously, taking a sip of whiskey.

“Yes...but let’s leave them, all official stuff!” Maxine waved the matter way like a stray fly in the wind, and suddenly her tone changed into a more serious one,

“Newt, you trust me right?”

As if a lightning bolt has struck nearby, Newt bolted towards Maxine with an alarm in his eyes. Maxine was seldom serious outside of her work, and this tone didn’t suit her. He kept his eyes on his assistant, who was twirling the nearly empty glass of champagne with a faraway, forlorn look. As if realising that she was being watched, she veered her sight towards him and Newt’s heart thudded loudly against his ribcage.

“Maxine... is everything alright?”

But before she could confide, they were called in the Banquet, and they soon found themselves sitting near the middle left of the long table. The moment that scared Newt out of his mind, was shallowed within seconds by Maxine. No matter how much he pried, he could not get Maxine to open her mouth. She denounced it as a moment of drunken passion. Now he found himself in a new situation where Maxine couldn’t help but to spoke some fun at the officials.

“And there goes the Bulgarian Secretary...” Maxine led her lips towards Newt’s ears and laughed at his weird accent, “do you want to have some fun Newt?” she looked at her neighbour with the most mysterious and most mischievous of ways. She clicked towards a nearby valet and whispered something in his ears. Only Newt could see that she poured some galleons in his pockets.

“Ah... Charlemagne, bonsoir, viens...” Maxine called aloud and a gentleman with neat hair and moustache came near her and stooped to kiss her hand, “Charment as always Mademoiselle Valois...”

“Always a flatterer, aren’t you Charles...” Maxine said flirtatiously and covertly winked at Newt, “By the way, I forgot to propose you a toast for your latest promotion...” the previous waiter walked in with two drinks, Maxine picked up one and offered the other to the man, “to your health and success... ah ah, how rude...!” she prevented Charlemagne from drinking, “offer the Bulgarian Secretary first...” she spoke with a feign scandalous tone. The man nodded and walked away towards the secretary and Maxine slowly turned herself towards the table. Newt was looking at her with mildly offended and highly amused eyes.

“What did you do now...?” he asked with humour laced in his tone.

“You’ll see...” Maxine bit her lips to prevent herself from laughing out loud. Suddenly a commotion made Newt to bolt and to look at his back. The man who was offered a drink by Maxine, spilt it all over the secretary, and both of them were jumping on the floor to wipe off the liquor on the secretary’s dragon hide jacket. The Secretary on the other hand was painfully oscillated between uncontrollable laughter and inconceivable anger and annoyance and made quite a spectacle of him amongst the foreign officials.

“A shot of tarantula mescal on the old toad’s jacket... worked like a charm...” Maxine mused on her own and laughed in a manner that she was like another beholder of the incident, covertly and briefly. When she turned her face at Newt’s side, someone was already standing there.

“Do you play with people’s lives on the daily basis or this is just for the Holidays?” Maxine turned her head at Newt’s opposite and saw someone was already standing there.

“Tina...” Newt stood up, so abruptly that he took some of the glasses and napkin down smashing with him, “I didn’t see you the whole evening...” Maxine pulled his hand downwards to make him sit down so that he doesn’t make things more awkward. He was already getting some funny glances from the others. Tina smiled politely at Newt and attempted to focus her dark eyes upon him in a manner that seemed a little forced. “I was otherwise engaged... talking with some ministers and all...” Tina said and it didn’t escape Maxine’s notice that her lips quivered a little to give out the smile afterwards. It fell on no one’s notice that a cruel smile graced Maxine’s lips for a second, and she knew exactly how she was going to play her game.

“So... would you like to have a seat...?” Maxine couldn’t resist the chance to humiliate Tina a little and offered the seat right next to her. However it was not Maxine’s call to hold all the cards on the table. Tina, who completely understood the ploy, replied with her usual calm assertiveness, “no... I would like to sit by Newt, if he wants me to.”

“By all means Tina, come sit by me.” Newt invited.

“Ladies and Gentlemen... Dinner is to be served.” As soon as the sonorous voice announced, the dinner table filled with most fantastic of foods. It reminded Newt oddly of the start of term banquet at his days at Hogwarts. But the situation indeed felt very tense, he was sitting sandwiched between two very important women of his life and he wished they could get along; otherwise it was very cumbersome to lean to either side each time one of them spoke. Newt kept one eye at Maxine because in his heart he knew something was off. Maxine was behaving her usual way, but not really in her natural way. She wasn’t relaxed and it was three times when her hand slipped while cutting into the Wellington. Her jaw was stiffened between the conversation and casual flirtation and her black eyes reminded Newt of a wary animal. Despite Tina’s distress, he couldn’t help but to reach out to Maxine.

“Maxine... is everything alright?”

There was it, the faraway look... she tore herself from the state of gazing and tried to look at Newt. Her look was peculiar, as if she couldn’t recognise her boss rightaway, and then in a more unnatural stumble came the hesitated reply.

“Yes... yes, everything is fine... everything is fine...” then as if to establish that she was ‘fine’ she forcefully cut into the wellington.

Newt’s foreboding was buried under the clinks and clangs of cutlery and wine glasses. But it is said that when the doom comes the human intuition senses it first. Fate was playing an even complex game which no one, even in their darkest of fantasies, could imagine. On the other side of the table, near the French Officials, Theseus and Hrothgar were dining with utmost luxury. Hrothgar had introduced Theseus with at least three ministers from different states, and was boasting about how his daughter was flourishing under the guidance of this brilliant and young war hero. Theseus could not bring himself to say that his dear daughter no longer worked for him. Neither heart, nor the gut. Between the meals, Hrothgar’s hands will find itself on Theseus’ back, slapping the heck out of it; to be honest, he was a bit frustrated with the scale of affection of the old man.

“Ah Theseus, tu es magnifique...” Hrothgar slurred after a sip of wine and looked at him with approving sort of way. Theseus, in the reply could only laugh in a nervous manner.

“I am feeling very nervous today mon ami, because I have something very important to announce today.” Hrothgar smiled with his cheeks glowing with the effect of the alcohol. “You see, it would be the foundation of my family and my people in the Duchy of the Angouleme. You may think that why does this old man is latching himself on me...”

“That’s not what I--” Theseus politely defied.

“—it is okay, mon chere, je comprends tout—but I know what the world is. The world I have known for so long is changing so rapidly that I cannot even recognise it anymore. With the brute burgeoning from Eastward, families like us are in the verge of extinction...” Hrothgar philosophised, “So I have taken the responsibility to change it forever...” Hrothgar slurred drunkenly and thudded the goblet on the table.

“How will you do that?” Theseus asked tentatively, he was a representative of the French Ministry and he was a second tier employee from the British Ministry, there was no way he could escape this conversation. Hrothgar looked at Theseus with unfocused eyes and gave a smile that looked a little strange to Theseus’ eyes. He felt that he knew that kind of smile, a smile of a fool hiding a truth that the beholder cannot even begin to comprehend. It was a smile of someone who posed his smile so craftily that under that drunken mask of a fool lurked mystery, madness and shrewdness that was either a bugle for something great or the premonition of utter catastrophe.

“Patience my dear friend... let them eat, drink and be merry, my announcement will come at the twelfth chime” Hrothgar gave a laugh that for some reason made Theseus’ heart stop in fear. Like a puppet he followed Hrothgar and the rest of the officials out of the hall, and the moment Hrothgar let go of him from under his arm, Theseus huffed a sigh and ordered a glass of champagne. The stress that he was put craved the alcohol to be down instantly.

After the dinner the entire ambiance of the Yule Party changed, as if they awaited for something great. Maybe it was because what Hrothgar said, at the twelfth chime, something was going to happen that could change the diplomatic relationship between Britain and France. Britain was at the isolated space right now, and their greatest of former allies, France and Italy were quite tentative about joining hands with England against Grindlewald, despite their cause being the same. Although he laudated the ministry, he wasn’t an idiot. The current ministry was infirm and faulty, and as much as he hated to admit, but he was with Anatole when it came to the ineffectiveness of the government. Maybe this will be the time when Hrothgar, the French High Secretary will join hands with Britain. He had made allies with Germany, Italy and Russia with political marriages, but what cards he has this time? He was the stronger party, what will he do?

The clock started to chime twelve. Theseus felt that the hammer that slammed against the melodious bells permeated through their bright brass bodies and hammered straight into his heart. A rumble in the crowd made him more attentive as he saw Hrothgar Valois moving towards the stairs and the entire crowd parting for him to make a way.

“Ladies and gentleman”, Hrothgar spoke sonorously, pointing the wand at his throat. “Today, I am honoured to be invited in such a prestigious celebration of Christmas in the British Ministry of Magic, and I am grateful to the ministers both countries to give me this opportunity to speak” Hrothgar looked upon the crowd proudly and continued, “At the twelfth Chime of the Bell, I am going to give you an union that will strengthen the Bond amongst two countries: Britain and France. Tonight, I present you, my daughter, Lady Maxine Adrienne Odessa Valois, Duchess of Croy...”

A shower of applauds followed as Maxine’s tall figure approached her father in the most graceful manner, and as she turned towards the crowd, Theseus could also hear some murmurs ensuing in the people, which he assumed caused from the British ministry stuff, surprised to know that this woman, who had worked for them held such a parentage.

“And I am proud to announce my youngest daughter’s engagement with Anatole Vasillius Malfoy, the newly appointed junior undersecretary to the British Ministry of Magic.”

Theseus couldn’t believe what he had heard. If the lightning deafened him, it would have been of less surprise. No matter how much he tried he couldn’t process the thing at all; no no... it must be some kind of joke, a cruel dream. He tried to screw his eyes shut and open it once again to wake up from his nightmare. Yet, there was some cruel and masochistic voyeur lurking inside Theseus that forced him to look beyond the past and into the finality.

His eyes started to burn profusely and a vacuum created inside the skull where the brain functioned in him day and night, keeping cool, solving crises. He vegetatively saw as the man he saw before walked towards Maxine and knelt in front of her; he had a burning urge to whip his wand and shoot him with the crutiatus curse on that wretched piece of work called Anatole Malfoy. His pretentiousness was so mercurial that he managed to fill his face with tenderness and love as he looked up to see Maxine, the Duchess, who looked down to contemplate whether she would accept her proposal or not.

Please say no... Please say no...

Theseus looked towards the inhuman spectacle that was happening in front of him. He was locked with an inconceivable hypnotism, like a fly to the flame, bend to self destruction. His whole concept of world and human beings shattering into pieces and there was he, standing like an abject statue to behold, and behold. And his eyes, that refused to glance anywhere found themselves locked with another. The same dark, angular eyes that dazzled him in the first day at the interview, however there is no mischief left in them. Their magnetic force locked Theseus to witness the pure feral revenge in them. The black eyes showed him the abyss to Maxine’s heart and echoed nothing but rage and empty.

“I do...”

Tags: @my-current-fandom-is

I have formally introduced the Paterfamilias of the Valois, Maxine’s Father, and soon I intend to expose them through an edit.

I took the inspiration from the political marriages amongst European aristocrats, and I intend to present the Valois as dying aristocracy in the 20th century Wizarding world, who are doing their best to hold the glorious past. I tried to write other members of the families, but it felt unnatural. Usually the officials didn’t take their family into a state party, unless they are formally invited. So I thought to Write Hrothgar as a Diplomat rather than a family man, a side which I will explore later.

Herr: German for Mr.

Die Kriegshel: German for “The war-hero”

Fun Fact, Orsini and Gruzensky are in fact two of the noble families from Italy and Russia. I have taken the names from real nobles.

“tu es magnifique“: the pronoun ‘tu‘ is more informal and often avoided in official conversation, it was quite condescending of Hrothgar to use such terms, or may be he was just drunk.

The character of Anatole Malfoy was inspired by Anatole Kuragin from Leo Tolstoy’s War and Peace. His middle name ‘Vasillius’ was inspired by father of Tolstoy’s Anatole: Prince Vasily Kuragin. Why his name was Anatole, will be revealed in later chapters.

Fun fact, Anatole Kuragin was played by Callum Turner (the actor who played Theseus Scamander) in 2016 BBC version of War and Peace.

Anatole is a french given name that means ‘Sunrise’

#newt x oc #newt x reader #newt scamander x oc #newt scamander x reader #heartbreak #love triangle #jealousy #engagement #theseus X oc #theseus x reader #waltz #christmas #dinner party

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you-guys--are-losers · 6 years

Text

The Chaser I Seek

Summary: Muggle-born Anne Wheeler is thrilled when she receives her Head Girl badge in the mail the summer before her final year at Hogwarts, and so is Pureblooded Phillip Carlyle when he discovers he is to be Head Boy. Neither Phillip or Anne knows much about the other, except for what they have learned from afar. Phillip has been watching from the Slytherin side of the stands for years as Anne leads the Ravenclaw Quidditch Team to victory after victory. Anne, on the other hand, has listened to the whispers about the Carlyle family and their obsession with Pureblood lineage, and she knows along with the rest of the school that the Carlyles are instrumental in Voldemort's slowly gaining success.

Neither is prepared to be jarringly thrown together their very first day by a food-fight blown out of proportion.

As both students struggle to balance new responsibilities, they will begin to see new sides to one another-- sides that Phillip has been taught never to look for, and sides that Anne is not ready to explore. But with the wizarding world taking new steps every day towards war, Hogwarts must cling to unity stronger than ever... Especially the two students who are the face of it all.

Word Count: 3,428

Warnings: Language, Partial Nudity (No Smut or Graphic Description, I Promise), Secondhand Embarrassment

Chapter: 2 of ?

Read it on Wattpad or AO3.

Playlist

Song of the Chapter: "Radioactive" by Marina and the Diamonds

Chapter Two: The Heads of School’s Bathroom

Cleanup after the fight took far less time than Phillip expected, to his immense relief.

After what felt like a battle to contain the damage spread by flying food, Phillip's brain felt as mushy as the porridge that was currently dripping down the left side of Anne Wheeler's face. The two stayed longer than any of the other students, casting whatever incantations they could to clear up the Great Hall. Most of the teachers stayed as well, although the Professors Barnum were seen leaving the room in an intense argument that could be inferred to be over the pie incident. No one stopped them, and Phillip privately thought it was because the DADA instructor looked absolutely murderous as she talked to her husband and if anyone intervened there was no guarantee that she would not hex them into oblivion.

The remaining wizards and witches started by vanishing the massive amount of food. The problem with a food fight in the Great Hall was that the various platters and bowls automatically refilled themselves, so the volume of food that needed vanishing was overwhelming. After they had managed to remove all traces of food, they were faced with the task of repairing all damaged objects. By the time that they were finished, there were only a handful of teachers who had remained; most of the others had either gone to manage the disciplinary aspect of the incident or to clean up. When they finally finished at half-past eleven, there were maybe seven or eight teachers left.

Anne Wheeler had stayed as well, working silently. Phillip was still not sure exactly what to think about her... It was not as if they had spoken much prior to the vicious battle that they had been caught in. However, regardless of what he thought, she looked exhausted.

She was trying to hide it, but Phillip noted how she walked like she was carrying a heavy load, and how her eyes seemed to struggle to open as the night wore on. She had looked flustered when they had entered the hall at the beginning of the night, but that had been in a good way, a busy way. She always looked like that at her happiest during Quidditch games. This was different, this was pure fatigue. She looked absurd, covered in soup and tuna salad and dried dirt. It was almost as if she had been caught in an explosion in the kitchens. But then, he reasoned, he must look at least equally strange after the fight they had been through. He did not even want to think about what he must have looked like.

Phillip liked things pristine, filed away, neat. He could already tell that he looked like someone had dragged him backward through someone's picnic.

Finally, when the last saucer had been repaired, one of the professors turned towards them. "Thank you, Mr. Carlyle and Ms. Wheeler," Professor Yan sighed softly as she wiped a dollop of steak and kidney pudding from her cheek. "Your help really was invaluable. I look forward to seeing the pair of you in the morning." The astronomy professor did not seem as bothered by the late hour, as the rest of them as she strode from the room. Even covered in scraps of dinner, her posture was ramrod straight.

"Right," Wheeler hummed softly, rubbing absently at one of the many spots of porridge on the side of her face. "Well, I will see you tomorrow, then, to hand out schedules. Good night." She turned to leave, and Phillip looked behind her with a bemused expression.

"What are you talking about?" he asked her in a surprised voice. "There's a Head Dormitory, remember? That's where the pair of us stay now so that the teachers have an easier time locating us."

Wheeler stopped in her tracks, seeming to puzzle it over in her sleep-deprived brain. "Right," she muttered. "Right. Um, do you happen to remember where..."

Her mouth fell open in a yawn, and Phillip nodded, answering the question before she finished it. "Yeah, it's just down the hall behind the third suit of armor. Come on we're both going to the same place anyway."

Phillip turned and began to walk, and he heard her footsteps squelching slightly behind him. The events of that night were beginning to set in, and his own body was rather sore as well. The walk to the suit of armor seemed much longer than it should have been, a fact that was encouraged by the rather awkward, uncertain silence that had settled between the pair of them. When the reached the armor suit, Phillip reached up and carefully pulled on the third finger of the armor suit's left hand. There was a creaking sound, and then the suit sank into the floor before them to reveal a large set of wooden doors behind it.

Phillip hesitated for a moment, glancing back at Wheeler. She returned his gaze with a slightly bleary look of expectancy, and so he grasped the handle on the door and pushed it open.

The room that met them was cozy, there was no denying that. It seemed to be divided into four sections, each with its own color: red, yellow, green, and blue. There was a large, embroidered rug that set the borders on the floor, and then the drastic change in the decoration of each side of the circular room completed the effect. On the red side, there was a roaring fireplace and a pair of comfortable-looking armchairs along with a sofa. The yellow side held many potted plants and a tea table. The green side of the room contained several tables with varying artifacts upon them, including several strange looking magical objects that let out puffs of smoke and whirred mechanically. The wall on the blue side of the room was filled with bookshelves all the way to the ceiling, which must have been forty feet in the air, and it held a table with a tea and coffee pot on top. In the green and blue sections of the room there were a set of desks, clearly meant for the Head Boy and Girl. A stone archway across the room led up a set of stairs where Phillip assumed they would find their dormitories, and a door between the blue and green sections of the room was labeled 'Washroom.'

The thought that they needed to bathe seemed to occur to both the Head Girl and to Phillip at the same time. Wheeler glanced up at him, and then she moved to begin to examine the various objects in the Ravenclaw section of the room. He blinked several times in her direction, surprised. "What are you doing?" he asked, coming off slightly more gruff than intended thanks to his need for sleep.

Wheeler glanced back up at him, and her eyes held acceptance. "You want to take a bath before bed, don't you?" she said, answering his question with a question.

"Well, yes, but... Don't you?"

"There's only one bathroom," she answered with a matter-of-fact tone. It was as if she expected him to take it without regard for her. He blinked again, trying to figure out exactly what she was thinking.

"Yes... But I don't want to take it from you," he said slowly. "I mean, I could always go to the Prefect bathroom and you can use this one."

"That one is all the way across the school," Wheeler replied. "And technically, you would be breaking curfew."

Phillip winced and ran a hand through his hair. "I mean... I don't really know, but you did as much as I did tonight," he murmured. The awkwardness between the pair of them was thick and heavy, and he was not sure what to do to lift it. He had a shrewd suspicion that his family's reputation might be causing it. The thought sent a pang through his chest, though he was not sure why. Why did he care what Anne Wheeler thought about him? He did not know, but he did, and he did not want her to think he was like the rest of his family. The worst part was that he was not sure that he appeared much different, with his elite group of friends and the time spent out at Hogsmeade spending their parents' money. That had never bothered him before, though...

For some reason that he could not explain, Phillip wanted to prove himself to the Ravenclaw Chaser.

"Well, it isn't as if one of us did more than the other. All I know is that neither of us is using it right now and that we both need to," she muttered tiredly.

"Well, then, why don't we?" Phillip suggested, trying to keep his voice nonchalant.

This seemed to catch her off-guard even in her sleep-deprived state, and her chocolate eyes were wide as she looked up at him. "What?" she said slowly, though he was certain she had heard him.

"If it's anything like the Prefect bathroom, it'll be massive," Phillip pointed out. "And if you won't go first, but I don't want to go first, the only obvious solution is that we go together."

Wheeler crossed her arms over her chest, narrowing her eyes slightly. "Really?"

"I won't look at you," he said firmly. A little smirk played on his lips. "Unless your problem is that you think that you won't be able to keep your eyes off me, in which case-"

"W-what?" she stammered, and though she shot him a glare, he thought he could see a little bit of a rosy tint to her cheeks that amused him to no end. "That isn't what I-"

"It's understandable, I mean, I've got a good figure, and nice-"

"I really don't want to know how you were planning on finishing that sentence," she interrupted, lifting her chin. "But... Fine. If I catch you looking at me, though, you won't have 'nice' anything for much longer."

Wheeler brushed past him and pushed open the door to the bathroom, and his playful gaze followed her as she entered the room. Yeah, she looked ridiculous. But then, so did he, and if they were going to be stuck together all year he might as well have fun with it. Not to mention that it was quite entertaining to cross swords with a wit as sharp as hers.

Phillip stepped into the bathroom, and his eyes widened. The whole room was black marble, from floor to ceiling. It was lit by wall sconces that emitted a warm light, and there was a massive tub in the ground, the same way there was in the Prefect bathroom. This one was deeper, however, and it had steps that led into it. There were tons of faucets, the same way that there were in the Prefect's bathroom, and the exhausted girl looked completely bemused by them. She instead gravitated towards a standing screen that was clearly made to change behind.

"You can do whatever you want with the water," she mumbled. "I'm going to change. If I see you looking, I'll... Well, normally I would threaten to murder you, but I just don't have the energy tonight, so it would probably just be a pretty nasty hex." With that, Wheeler was gone behind the screen, leaving an amused Phillip to tend to the water.

While Wheeler changed, Phillip began to fiddle around with the different taps. He particularly liked one that spewed water with a thick layer of soft foam on top, and so he overwhelmingly allowed that to fill the water. Despite his comments about her wandering eyes, he was a gentleman, and he did want to respect her modesty-- especially after seeing proof of how well she could aim a spell earlier that night. The tub filled much more quickly than any Muggle tub would have, and he turned to face the screen to say, "It's full-"

He had just caught her peering out from behind the screen, wrapped in a white robe. Her face flushed, and she quickly darted back behind the screen. "O-okay. I'm coming out, stay turned around until I tell you," she fumbled for words, and Phillip obediently turned around as well. He was glad for the excuse because for some reason his face was warm. It was probably from the water, but he did not want her to think it was for any other reason.

Phillip stayed turned around, and he heard the sound of bare feet on the marble floor. There was the sound of cloth dropping to the ground, and then the water rippled and there was a slight splash. A long sigh of bliss left her lips, and his face heated up again. Maybe this was not such a good idea... No, what was he thinking? This really wasn't a big deal. They both looked terrible anyway, he was just tired. "Alright," she murmured, and he heard the sound of her moving to the far end of the tub.

Slowly, Phillip turned. He appeared slightly amused as he looked at her. The girl was up to her chin in white foam and had not had a chance to go under and clear her skin and her hair yet. "Are you standing on tiptoes?"

"Shut up," she mumbled, turning away from him. "Get changed, I'm not looking."

The smirk remained still as Phillip stepped behind the screen. He began to work on removing his robes, which was harder work than usual since they were plastered to his body with food. He caught a glimpse of Wheeler's ragged robes peeking out of a wicker clothing hamper, and a slight twinge of curiosity grabbed hold of him. She had been on his radar for a while, and that had been part of the reason. Often, several of the girls who flitted in and out of his group would mention her robes when she was brought up. For years, they had always been ill-fitting and old. It wasn't his business, but as Phillip threw his own robes over hers, he had to wonder why.

"Okay, stay turned around," he called as he wrapped a robe around himself. He padded across the marble floor, each step warm on his bare feet thanks to the steam from the hot water. He could see her figure on the other end of the tub, still several yards away. She appeared to be washing her shoulders and her upper back... He quickly looked away from her and tugged the robe from his shoulders. As he stepped into the pool, he let out his own soft moan of relief. Against his aching muscles, the hot water felt like heaven.

"It's amazing, isn't it?" she breathed softly. He glanced across the steaming water, where he could make out the figure of Anne Wheeler. She ducked under the water, and when she came up, her dark curls were soaked and plastered to her face. He hid a smile and tipped his head back, turning his back to her again as he focused on washing his hair. This proved to be more difficult than expected since there was a fair amount of dried food in it. It took what must have been a good six or seven minutes to finish before he could move on to scrubbing down, and he heard similarly frustrated mutterings from across the tub. If he was having trouble with his hair, he had no idea how she was managing.

Now that they were both in the pool, Phillip decided it was not so terribly awkward. In fact, it was kind of relaxing to hear the splashing across the pool. The soaps that were perched on ledges on the side of the pool caused Phillip to become slightly more sleepy, with the scent of pine making him drowsy. It was the same shampoo, he realized, that his uncle had bought him several years ago. It smelled of balsam and sandalwood, and the scent reminded him of one of his few happy memories at home. Based on the deep breaths that Phillip heard her taking, he assumed that there was some sort of enchantment on the room to alter soaps and the like to the preference of the person using them.

After he had finally managed to free himself of the last traces of the food fight, Phillip glanced across the pool. "I'm finished," he called. "Are you?"

"Mhmm," Wheeler murmured, coming slightly closer to his side of the pool. "I think so, yeah."

Upon catching a glimpse of her, however, Phillip spotted a spot of dried porridge in her hair that she had missed among her many curls. "Oh, wait," he called. "You still have a little in your hair... By your ear." The shorter girl moved her fingers to her hair, but it was the side opposite of the leftover food. Phillip shook his head and gestured to the approximate position on his head, but with the sheer amount of wet curls that Wheeler had, she continued to miss it. Phillip let out a quick breath. "Here... How about I get it for you?" he suggested. She stiffened, but he quickly interjected, "No, I mean- I can reach it from behind you, how about that? I'll just get it out, and then we can be done."

She hesitated, touching her hair one last time. She gave him a dubious glance, and he did not know why he seemed to be holding his breath. "Fine, whatever," she mumbled, turning her back to him. "I just need sleep."

Phillip took a deep breath and crossed the pool, careful as he came up behind her not to touch Wheeler anywhere by accident. He could not see anything, but now that he stood behind her, he could smell her shampoo... It was something flowery, Lilacs, maybe. Whatever it was, he had to stop himself from inhaling deep breaths. Hesitantly, he raised a hand to her hair. She was stiff, and all her muscles seemed to tense when he touched her. Phillip steadied his hand and carefully picked up the small, offending section. Between his fingers, her loose curls were soft. He had to stop himself from running his hand through her long hair, and instead quickly plucked out the last residue of the food fight. Phillip returned his hand to his side quickly, resisting the urge to hold on any longer than he was supposed to. He did not know why he wanted to... But her hair was beautiful, and it smelled amazing.

What the hell, Phillip? he scolded himself, slightly dazed.

At that moment, Wheeler moved to turn around, perhaps having forgotten how close he was behind her. She slipped on the floor of the tub, and their hips knocked softly underwater, her smooth skin against his, and he immediately jumped backward.

"Merlin, I'm sorry, Wheeler," he stammered, moving back and quickly turning around. "I didn't mean-"

"No, I just, I slipped," she quickly muttered, and he was extremely grateful that she could not see his face. Why was he this flustered?

"Right. Um, so I'll get out first, and then I can just grab the robe and go to my dorm, and then you have the bathroom to yourself," he quickly launched onto whatever topic he could.

"Yeah, yeah, and I'll get out so you can brush your teeth and stuff," Wheeler latched onto the train of thought. "I don't take long anyway."

"Okay," he said slowly. "Well... I'm getting out, alright?"

The water rippled, and he assumed she had nodded. Phillip quickly began to climb out, picking up the robe from the floor and wrapping it around his figure. "Well, goodnight," he called as he paused at the door, hoping he did not sound as awkward and uncertain as the words felt.

"'Night," she muttered, and he could not discern anything from her tone.

As soon as Phillip stepped out of the bathroom and into their Common Room, he ran a hand through his damp hair in a confused agitation. What in Merlin's name had happened in there?

He chewed his lip, turning the thought over in his mind and then batting it aside. No. He did not have the brainpower or the energy to be battling through that question tonight, and they had a big day the next morning, anyway. So, after pinching the bridge of his nose slightly and taking a deep breath, Phillip looked up and walked to his room, away from the bathroom and the girl with the lilac hair.

#phillip carlyle #anne wheeler #tgs #the greatest showman #the greatest showman fic #anne wheeler fic #phillip carlyle fic #original work

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scover-va · 2 years

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I love making self indulgent content for my niche lil fandom bc I know damn well I gotta make this shit myself /hj

#the hex #the hex game #daniel mullins games #chandrelle stormblaze #super weasel kid #the hex mr shrewd #scov.fic

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scover-va · 2 years

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The Hex characters but if they were scrybes bc i have been thinking about this

More gameswap content anyways ive been thinkin abt what type of scrybe each The Hex character would be so I am. Putting them down here. Plus any other relevant info on these fuckers. Some get canon scrybe types some dont, for various reasons

Weasel Kid: Scrybe of Beasts

Taking Leshy's role as the Scrybe of Beasts (headpats the boy), SWK is the youngest of the six scrybes. Instead of using a camera though, SWK kinda gets Grimora's whole 'write up about the card' gimmick, except it's all digital. Yes that's a ref to the steam reviews. Anyways, yeah, he writes up about the card. The 'rating' transfers into cost (which is still blood, though if he was game master, he'd probably introduce a mechanic that has to do with coins), and any stats + sigils would be based on what he writes up. His cards are VERY chaotic and random in nature, bc he's all over the place. Mr. Shrewd, Mr. Squarrel, and Catarina are his subordinates, though they're more like his parental figures that anything. His map is just grasslands, the fields covered in hills, flowers, the little cottage SWK, Mr. Squarrel, and Mr. Shrewd live in, and the small hut Catarina does her studies in. She's currently researching the OLD_DATA. Mr. Shrewd can be used as practice, providing helpful tips to the player in order to help them. Though once you defeat SWK, Mr. Shrewd can't be found, and Mr. Squarrel is no longer available to chat with.

Chef Bryce: Scrybe of Strength

Having had his scrybe type be changed during the beta stages of development due to his last one being too boring/difficult to flesh out, Bryce got swapped to the Scrybe of Strength, his map and subordinates changing (he previously only had 1 subordinate given to him before things were changed. He misses her). His gimmick is that for each card you beat, you gain a point, and the higher amount of points you got, the better cards you can use (like how in cax it's first one to 3 points/matches won wins). His subordinates consist of Bhakto, Alley Gator, and Steambot Willy, and the player's able to meet some other, minor characters around his island that serve no purpose but to help the player practice their gameplay/strategies/whatever. The nicest of the six scrybes. His map is various different fighting arenas all sloppily attached together. Rebecha shows up as one of the minor npcs, though only chats, never fights. Someone else lurks behind a door Bryce keeps locked up. Not out of malice for this person, but for care for everyone else in the game and in the real world. All his cards start off blank, and get upgraded as they're used.

Chandrelle Stormblaze: Scrybe of Time

Chandrelle stays at the top of a tower, similar to Magnificus in the canon Inscryption. there's five layers to the tower. The base floor, the Dragon's floor, the Sphinx's floor, the Kraken's floor, and the basement. The Dragon represents the past, using cards based on events in historical events and mythology. You know, like dragons and stuff. The Sphinx represents the present, though doesn't,,,actually fight you. She just throws riddles at you (like in Secrets of Legendaria) until either you lose, or she runs out of questions. The Kraken represents the future, though like The Sphinx, isn't actually interested in card games, her battle instead being more like a dating sim (if u know, u know). Chandrelle hates all of her current subordinates. She used to have different ones, but now one's dead, one's a scrybe, and one's locked up in the basement because he tried to kill everyone on the islands and cause absolute mayhem. And also she just doesn't like him. Her gimmick is that she uses magic to create the cards, often making cards up on the spot, overall kinda just. Bugging out the game.

Rust McClain: Scrybe of ???

No one,,,actually knows what he's supposed to do. Not even himself. His map is like a wasteland, completely empty and glitchy. He uses cards from the other scrybes, though sometimes cards randomly glitch in. Custom made cards by the dev team, cards that didn't make it into the 'final' game. Some cards are self inserts, some are just the definition of 'random bullshit, go!', while others are actual proper cards. He often rambles on about past, unused subordinates that got taken out, like The Vurm, Dustbowl Danny, Fangs, Tall Jane, Helga the Bandit, and someone he mentions a lot more fondly, Rocky. Most of the others assume that the dev team just forgot to delete all his assets and code, so he's still around.

Lazarus Bleeze: Scrybe of Space

A former subordinate of Chandrelle, Lazarus' character was liked by the dev team, and reused as a scrybe. The cards you can use are based on the scale. Good cards if you're winning, bad cards if you're losing, and average cards if it's tied. Lazarus personally thinks the system is incredibly unfair though, so he tends to throw in a bunch of things that benefit the player so they can have a winning chance. The player has had to politely decline shooting Lazarus several times /hj. Lazarus' map looks like a random planet, the sky shifting around his island to look like you were looking into outer space. He resides within a spaceship. His subordinates consist of Junior and Jay, his third subordinate having not been added. But that's fine, because you gotta battle a bunch of aliens before you can even get to Lazarus, Jay, and Junior. All battles being a card game, of course. He hates his current job, and just wants to go back to being a subordinate for Chandrelle. He creates his cards via paying for them using foils, paying for certain things like stats, sigils, etc. He gets to name them and create the image himself for free, though. So, he's had to fight a bunch of the aliens just to get the foils he needs. He lets the player make their own cards, too!

FPP/El: Scrybe of Characters

The sixth scrybe. El makes cards based on the characters in Inscryption, all existing ones, whether you've met them or not. So, they're basically an easy way to know if you missed a secret character or not. El's island is just,,,a white void. Locations change between the appearances of the other islands, though never look the exact same, always having this dreamy sort of effect. Card price is based on the character's role, and similar to Lazarus, you use your foils. Scrybe-based cards can be used for 10 foils, subordinates for 5, and extras for 1. Extras would be the aliens, Bryce's extra fighters, and those locked away by Bryce and Chandrelle. Scrybe-based cards tend to be the strongest, though the cards based on those locked away (which, granted, are incredibly rare to get) are better. As well, upon beating El, El makes a card based on how you did against him and gives it to you. They have no subordinates, and instead have a few puzzles you gotta get through before fighting him.

Aaaand that's all for now! Im gonna draw them at some point, as well as the extras + subordinates. We'll see what happens tho :-)

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