#privet family

[detect-thief]

We are past normal, there is only magic and your belief in it. Those who do not shall not see this post. ( or is it the opposite???)

Now includes:

- Fireplace for unexpected Floo travel

- A gazillion photos of the Dursley Family (w/out Harry)

- Outdated floral wallpaper for the annoying and draining Petunia

- 3 seat dining table (coz freaks dont eat on the table)

- A cupboard ACTUALY UNDER THE STAIRS. Chaise as a makeshift bed, definitely not comfortable to lie in and super small for a growning boy.

- Dudley's room filled with posters and the latest gadgets (coz in their eyes, Dudley is absolutely perfect)

- The Dursley Couples bedroom upstairs, twin desk for work and kissingup to bosses (vernon) and making impossible chore list (petunia)

- A spider in Harry's Room (Theyre friends)

---

Morning. Not good coz Petunia's already screaming the whole house down. If only a certain dogfather can get Harry away from here.

Shushroom out!!! *uses the dursley's fireplace to floo*

[braveclementine]

Chapter 2

Warnings: None. However, future chapters will contain sexual content so readers that are under the age of 18 may have to skip those chapters (Please keep note of the warnings).

Copyright: I do not own any Wizarding World characters that J.K. Rowling wrote. I do however own Elizabeth Kane (main character) and Trang Nyguen (best friend). There should be no use of these two names without my permission. I also do not condone any copying of this.

🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎

𝕴 𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖐𝖊𝖉 𝖆𝖗𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖉 my little bedroom with a strange feeling in my chest. My trunk, owl, bag, and broom were already downstairs but I'd wanted to stay up here a little longer. I'd only spent a week here after all, and I was already leaving.

It looked so unchanged from when I'd lived here at eleven years old. The bed in the corner was the same size since Dad changed out my crib for a bed. The sheets were pale pink with roses on them, faded with age. The lace curtains in front of the singular window. The bookcase crammed full with books, the desk that held books and a few pictures in frames, the wardrobe with all my clothes in it. The pink phonograph on my desk, the box of music discs under the desk. The posters of the Beatles or Quidditch teams or singular flyers on my walls.

The only difference was a small shelf that I'd screwed into the wall that held carved figurines of different animals or magical creatures that Hagrid had carved for me every Christmas and birthday.

I felt so detached from this room. It didn't feel like my room. It felt like the room of someone who had died and I was visiting. I shivered and hurried out of the room, closing the door gently behind me with a firm snap.

Dad was downstairs, reading. Trang was home.

I went into the kitchen to make myself a cup of tea. It was 10:30 at night, and Dumbledore would be here in fifteen minutes. I dunked a tea bag in the cup, making my way back into the living room. I sat down on the couch next to dad and put my head on his shoulder. He put an arm around me.

I didn't get to see what he was reading because he snapped the book closed and tossed it lightly onto the ottoman. We sat there in silence until there was a knock at the door. Dad got up off the couch, his warm arm leaving my shoulder and I stood up too.

Dad opened the door. I sipped my tea, waiting.

"Hello Remus." Dumbledore said in the other room.

"Would you like to come in Professor?" Dad asked.

"Yes, I think I shall." Dumbledore said, and stepped through the door and smiled over at me. "Hello Elizabeth."

"Hello Professor." I said softly. "Are we- are we going?"

"In a near minute. I will discuss more of the matters at Harry's house, but I do want your father included in a bit of this discussion." Dumbledore said.

Dad and Dumbledore came into the living room. Dad sat back down on the couch next to me and Dumbledore sat in a rocking chair in the other corner of the room. Dad liked telling me that was the chair he rocked me in when reading me bed-time stories. I liked remembering those nights, especially in the winter when he would put the fire on and the flames would crackle and pop as he read fairy tales. I would constantly ask if the characters existed, because magic was real, and he would laugh, a laugh that would fill the room and make me feel warm and special.

"I know you've both suffered over the loss of Sirius and it should be said, as gently as possible that Sirius left you and Harry everything that he owned. He split everything quite evenly between the two of you, though he made sure you got the grand piano and Buckbeak." Dumbledore's voice brough me back from the past.

I swallowed hard and grabbed dad's hand who squeezed it back. "He also, left most of his books to you Remus, knowing you'd probably make more use of them than Harry, though he did say Harry gets first dibs."

Dad nodded, a hard look on his face. He might cry in front of me, but he wasn't going to cry in front of Dumbledore.

"Hagrid. . . Hagrid can have Buckbeak." I said faintly. "I believe you would have said he'd be rechristened Witherwings?"

"There really is no keeping secrets from you." Dumbledore said with a small smile. "Hagrid will be delighted."

I gave the faintest of smiles.

"I believe that is all." Dumbledore said. "If you don't mind, Remus, I will gladly move the piano-"

"No." I said softly, frowning. "No, the piano needs to stay there. . . for- for some reason. I- I'm not sure why but it should stay there."

"Well then, I suppose that's that then." Dumbledore said gently, getting to his feet. "And Remus, I understand your frustration with Greyback. I'm afraid however, I'm going to have to ask you to keep at it."

"Of course." Dad said in a determined voice. "I've got some of them, of course, but Greyback's more persuasive towards their natures."

"Yes." Dumbledore said softly. "A shame. Well, Elizabeth, we mustn't keep Harry waiting."

I hugged dad and kissed his cheek. "I'll come back for Christmas."

He kissed my temple and I got up and went into the front hall with Dumbledore. "We'll send these to the Burrow." Dumbledore said and with a wave of his wand, he sent the luggage away. Dumbledore opened the front door and I turned back to see dad, standing in the hallway, his hands in his shabby robes and I quickly darted back and gave him another hug.

"I love you dad."

"Love you too sweetheart." He mumbled and then I darted back after Dumbledore.

"Can you apparate?" Dumbledore asked as we walked down the street.

"Er- no, but I've done side along apparition a lot."

"Good, please take my left arm."

"What are you going to do when we have Harry as well?" I asked curiously, grabbing his left arm.

"We'll figure that out when we get there." Dumbledore said with a chuckle, turning on his heel. I closed my eyes and felt my feet leave the ground and in a split second, we were on a different street.

I saw Dumbledore nod to a window, and I glanced over and saw Mrs. Figg's face disappearing from a window.

"She was the witness at Harry's trial." I said as we walked down a street.

"Yes." Dumbledore said warmly. "She's watched over Harry for his entire life."

I wondered how that had been for her. Watching Harry grow up, knowing nothing about the magical world that he was famous in. I wondered if she ever felt like telling him. I wondered if he would have believed her.

We walked down the street and I looked at the houses with distaste. We were in one of those neighborhoods. Identical houses, identical lawns, identical mailboxes, and nearly identical cars although they were different colors.

"Why do Muggles always want to be the same as their neighbors?" I asked curiously, a bit put out with the neighborhood. I hadn't seen it when I'd come with the Order to save Harry last year.

"Comfort, I believe, and perhaps simplicity." Dumbledore said and we started up a sidewalk to a door. It was number 4 Privet Drive. He put out a light. He rang the doorbell.

I could hear shouting inside, a man's voice. Probably my lovely Uncle Vernon. Then the door opened and a large, fat man was standing in front of the door.

"Good evening. You must be Mr. Dursley. I daresay Harry has told you I would be coming for him?" Dumbledore asked. I heard feet on the steps.

Uncle Vernon looked from Dumbledore to me. His mustache was black and he had very tiny eyes for such a large face. He was wearing a puce dressing gown in the color of burgundy. I wondered if all Muggles had such bad taste.

"Judging by your look of stunned disbelief, Harry did not warn you that I was coming, However, let us assume that you have invited us warmly into your house. It is unwise to linger overlong on doorsteps in these troubled times." Dumbledore said and stepped over the doorstep, motioning that I should follow so I did. Dumbledore closed the front door behind me.

"It is a long time since my last visit, I must say, your agapanthus are flourishing." Dumbledore said, peering over his half-moon spectacles at Uncle Vernon.

"Wotcher Harry!" I said, grinning up at him and winking. He smiled back.

"Ah, good evening Harry. Excellent, excellent." Dumbledore said, smiling up at him.

"I don't mean to be rude-" Uncle Vernon finally spoke.

"-yet, sadly, accidental rudeness occurs alarmingly often. Best to say nothing at all, my dear man. Ah, and this must be Petunia." Dumbledore finished gravely.

I peered at the kitchen door which had opened and saw my Aunt Petunia wearing rubber gloves and a housecoat over her own nightdress. She must have been cleaning the kitchen or something though I wondered why she was doing so, so late at night. Perhaps Muggles this peculiar were nocturnal. Her face held nothing but shock.

"Albus Dumbledore. We have corresponded, of course." Dumbledore said to Aunt Petunia and I gave him a brief, curious look. "And this must be your son, Dudley."

I glanced behind Dumbledore to see my rather large Cousin Dudley looking around the living room door. His hair was blond and his head was rather large. Then again, his entire body was rather large. His mouth was gaping in what I was pretty sure was fear.

There was a bit of silence and then Dumbledore said, "Shall we assume that you have invited me into your sitting room?"

Dudley scrambled out of the way quickly as Dumbledore passed him and I followed. Harry jumped down the last few stairs and also followed us. Dumbledore had settled himself in an armchair near the fire.

"Aren't- aren't we leaving, sir?" Harry asked in an anxious voice. He had a pair of trousers in one hand and a telescope in the other.

"I see you didn't pack." I muttered out of the corner of my mouth. He grinned sheepishly.

"Yes, indeed we are, but there are a few matters we need to discuss first. And I would prefer not to do so in the open. We shall trespass upon your aunt and uncle's hospitality only a little longer." Dumbledore said calmly.

"You will, will you?" Uncle Vernon asked, entering the room with Aunt Petunia at his shoulder and Cousin Dudley behind her.

"Yes. I shall." Dumbledore said simply and I grinned. Suddenly the sofa shot over, knocked the knees out under the three Dursleys and zoomed back into place. "We may as well be comfortable." Dumbledore as pleasantly.

"Sir- what happened to you-?" Harry started, noticing Dumbledore's blackened hand.

"Later, Harry. Please sit down." Dumbledore said.

There was only one arm chair left. Harry offered to let me sit in it but I shook my head, sitting on the arm instead.

"I would assume that you were going to offer me refreshment but the evidence so far suggests that that would be optimistic to the point of foolishness." Dumbledore said and with another flick of his wand, a bottle and six glasses appeared in midair and tipped generous amounts of liquid into each one and then floated to a person in a room. "Madam Rosmerta's finest oak-matured mead." Dumbledore said, raising his glass to Harry.

"I don't know if I'm allowed to drink this." I said, taking my glass and looking at the liquid.

Dumbledore chuckled. "I'm sure Remus won't mind if you try it one night."

I took a sip and found it to be very bubbly and delicious, a bit like a sharp, sparkling juice and found that I liked it immensely. The Dursleys, however, were trying to avoid their glasses which were starting to tap them on the head as they hadn't taken it.

"It's not poison." I said though I was trying very hard not to smile. I had a sneaking suspicion that Dumbledore was enjoying himself very much.

"Well, Harry, a difficulty has arisen which I hope you will be able to solve for us. By us, I mean the Order of the Phoenix. But first of all I must tell you that Sirius's will was discovered a week ago and that he left you and Elizabeth everything he owned, divided completely down the middle though he left Elizabeth the piano and Remus, Professor Lupin, all his books, though you are supposed to go through the books first if there is anything you want to read."

"Oh, right." Harry said a bit dully, "No, Professor Lupin can have all of them."

"This is, in the main, fairly straightforward." Dumbledore went on. "You both inherit a reasonable amount of gold to your accounts at Gringotts, and you both inherit all of Sirius's personal possessions, divide them together how you want. The slightly problematic part of the legacy-"

"His godfather's dead?" Uncle Vernon asked loudly from the couch and I flinched. He attempted to beat away the wine glass, "He's dead? His godfather's dead?"

"Yes." Dumbledore said, a bit coldly. "Our problem is that Sirius also left you number twelve, Grimmauld Place."

"They've been left a house?" Uncle Vernon as greedily and I had to remember that I was in a Muggle house with the magical trace on me and that he was my uncle so that I didn't pull my wand out and hex him. Even still, it took quite a bit of willpower.

"You can keep using it as headquarters." Harry said, giving me a swift glance, "I don't care. You can have it, I don't really want it." I nodded in agreement.

"That is generous, we have, however, vacated the building temporarily." Dumbledore said.

"Why?" Harry asked.

"Well, Black family tradition decreed that the house was handed down the direct line, to the next male with the name of 'Black'. Sirius was the very last of the line as his younger brother, Regulus, predeceased him and both were childless. While his will makes it perfectly plain that he wants you two to have the house, it is nevertheless possible that some spell or enchantment has been set upon the place to ensure that it cannot be owned by anyone other than a pureblood."

"What a surprise." I said with a roll of my eyes while Harry muttered, "I bet there has."

"Quite, and if such an enchantment exists, then the ownership of the house is most likely to pass to the eldest of Sirius's living relatives, which would mean his cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange."

Harry and I both sprang to our feet at the same time and said, "No!"

"Well, obviously we would prefer that she didn't get it either. The situation is fraught with complications. We do not know whether the enchantments we ourselves have placed upon it, for example, making it Unplottable, will hold now that ownership has passed from Sirius's hands. It might be that Bellatrix will arrive on the doorstep at any moment. Naturally we had to move out until such time as he have clarified the position."

I had sat back down on the arm of the chair by now.

"But how are you going to find out if I'm allowed to own it?" Harry asked, still standing.

"Kreacher." I said.

"Yes, it's quite a simple test." Dumbledore said.

"Will you get these ruddy things off us?" Uncle Vernon bellowed.

I replied, "If you drink them, they go away."

Dudley reached out and took his in a hesitant hand and took a faint sip. Then he drank the entire thing. I was mildly surprised.

Dumbledore raised his wand and the leftover glasses from Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon disappeared. "Oh, I'm so sorry. But it would have been better manners to drink it, you know. You see," Dumbledore turned back to us, "If you have indeed inherited the house, you have also inherited-"

There was another flick of the wand and there was a loud crack and Kreacher appeared with bloodshot eyes and covered in his grimy rags. Aunt Petunia let out a hair-raising shriek that made me jump and Dudley raised his feet off the floor, and holding them up to nearly his head. Uncle Vernon asked, "What the hell is that?"

"Kreacher." Dumbledore said simply.

"Kreacher won't, Kreacher won't, Kreacher wont!" The house-elf was shouting as loudly as Uncle Vernon had been, stamping his ugly feet and pulling on his bat-like ears. "Kreacher belongs to Miss Bellatrix, oh yes, Kreacher belongs to the Blacks, Kreacher wants his new mistress, Kreacher won't go to the Potter brat, Kreacher won't go to the werewolf brat, Kreacher won't, won't, won't-"

"As you two can see, Kreacher is showing a certain reluctance to pass into your ownership." Dumbledore shouted over him.

"I don't care. I don't want him." Harry said, a look of disgust on his face.

"Won't, won't, won't, won't."

"You would prefer him to pass into the ownership of Bellatrix Lestrange? Bearing in mind that he has lived at the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix for the past year?"

"Kreacher, shut up!" I shouted.

Kreacher grabbed his throat, his mouth working furiously and his eyes bulging and then threw himself face forward onto the carpet while Aunt Petunia whimpered and beat the floor with his hands and feet.

"Well, that simplifies matters." Dumbledore said cheerfully. "Elizabeth, at least, is owner of Grimmauld Place and of Kreacher. Perhaps we should check if you are also, owner, Harry."

"Er-" Harry stared down at Kreacher, looking thoroughly put out. "Kreacher stand up."

Glaring, Kreacher stood up, still silent and we both looked at Dumbledore. "Sirius knew what he was doing." Dumbledore said pleasantly.

"Kreacher." I said and his bloodshot eyes glared at me with hate. "I want you to go to Hogwarts and work in the kitchen there with the other house-elves."

Dumbledore and Harry both gave me a look of surprise and then Kreacher was gone with another very loud crack. "Interesting choice, Elizabeth." Dumbledore said.

I shrugged my shoulders, "It was the command I foresaw Harry giving before, I just wanted to speed the conversation up."

"Lovely." Dumbledore said. "I believe that is that Harry, Elizabeth has already said Hagrid may keep Buckbeak."

Harry nodded, "Hagrid'll love that."

"Now then, is your trunk packed?"

"Erm. . ."

"Doubtful that I would turn up?" Dumbledore asked.

"I'll just go and -er- finish off." Harry said hastily, picking up his trainers and telescope and escaping from the living room. I slid off the arm of the chair into the seat, waiting.

Aunt Petunia spoke once Harry's bedroom door closed, "You're- you're his sister?" Both Uncle Vernon and Dudley looked at her in shock.

"Yes." I said, not bothering to hide it.

"Harry doesn't know, of course." Dumbledore said warmly. "It is not time for him to know."

Aunt Petunia and I looked at each other for a long moment and she looked away, looking down at her hands. For once, Uncle Vernon was speechless and Dudley was staring at me with an unusual expression on his face.

After 10 long minutes, his trunk and other things could be heard being placed by the door and then he entered the living room again, hesitating near the entrance way. "Professor- I'm ready now."

Dumbledore and I stood and Dumbledore turned to the Dursleys and said, "Good. Just one last thing, then. As you will no doubt be aware, Harry comes of age in a year's time-"

"No." Aunt Petunia said.

"I'm sorry?" Dumbledore asked politely.

"No, he doesn't. He's a month younger than Dudley, and Dudders doesn't turned eighteen until the year after next." Aunt Petunia said.

It took even more self-restraint not to snort with laughter. Dudders?

"Ah, but in the Wizarding world, we come of age at seventeen."

Uncle Vernon muttered something that I didn't catch.

"Now, as you already know, the wizard Lord Voldemort has returned to this country. The Wizarding community is currently in a state of open warfare. Harry, whom Lord Voldemort has already attempted to kill on a number of occasions, is in even greater danger now than the day when I left him upon your doorstep fifteen years ago, with a letter explaining about his parents' murder and expressing the hope that you would care for him as though he were your own."

Here, Dumbledore paused and while his voice stayed light and calm, I recognized the fact that he was extremely angry. "You did not do as I asked. You have never treated Harry as a son. He has known nothing but neglect and often cruelty as your hands. The best that can be said is that he has at least escaped the appalling damage you have inflicted upon the unfortunate boy sitting between you."

I glanced at Dudley and turned around as I erupted into silent giggles, vivid images of Harry trying to do all the things he'd done in the past five years if he was like Dudley.

"Us- mistreat Dudders? What d'you-" Uncle Vernon spluttered and fell silent. My giggles increased at the name, Dudders.

"The magic I evoked fifteen years ago means that Harry has powerful protection while he can still call this house 'home.' However miserable has has been here, however unwelcome, however badly treated, you have at least, grudgingly, allowed him houseroom. This magic will cease to operate the moment that Harry turns seventeen; in other words, at the moment he becomes a man. I ask only this: that you allow Harry to return, once more, to his house, before his seventeenth birthday, which will ensure that the protection continues until that time."

The Dursleys said nothing and I watched Dudley struggling on the couch, trying to figure out when he'd been mistreated. Aunt Petunia looked flushed. I wondered if she regretted not treating Harry better. I wondered how she would have treated me.

"Well, Harry. . . time for us to be off." Dumbledore said. "Until we meet again." He said to the Dursleys. I quickly followed him out of the room.

"Bye." Harry said quickly and then left.

"We do not want to be encumbered by these just now. I shall send them to the burrow to await us there. However, I would like you to bring your Invisibility Cloak. . . just in case." Dumbledore said.

Harry extracted his cloak from the trunk with some difficulty, trying to hide how badly packed the trunk was and both Dumbledore and I looked away politely. Dumbledore's lips were twitching behind his long beard as though he was trying not to laugh.

Then Dumbledore waved his wand and Harry's things vanished. The front door was opened and we stepped out into the cool, misty darkness.

"And now, Harry, Elizabeth, let us step out into the night and pursue that flighty temptress, adventure." Dumbledore said and he led us away from Harry's house.

Harry and I walked in silence on either side of Dumbledore. Harry seemed awkward and almost embarrassed with each step. Perhaps he was thinking about his last conversation with Dumbledore and remembering that he'd destroyed a number of his possessions and had shouted at him a bit.

"Keep your wand at the ready, you two." Dumbledore said brightly.

"But I thought I'm not allowed to use magic outside school, sir?" Harry asked as I slipped my wand out of my pocket.

"If there is an attack, I give you permission to use any counterjinx or curse that might occur to you. However, I do not think you need worry about being attacked tonight."

"Why not, sir?"

"You are with me." Dumbledore said simply and I laughed.

"We'll be fine." I said confidently, twirling my wand in my hand. "No trouble whatsoever."

"Why aren't you wearing shoes?" Harry asked.

"Oh!" I said brightly. Indeed, I was barefoot, walking on the dark blacktopped street. "Well, ever since I got back the use of my legs, I've decided not to take anything for granted. You'd never realize how different surfaces can feel, even two different streets can feel, until you really notice. But I reckon I'll start wearing shoes again once I go back to Hogwarts."

Dumbledore sounded amused when he spoke again, "This will do. You have not, Harry, passed your Apparition Test."

"No." Harry said. "I thought you had to be seventeen?"

"You do. So you will need to hold on to my arm very tightly. My left, if you don't mind- as you have noticed, my wand arm is a little fragile at the moment. Elizabeth, please take my shoulder."

I put a hand on his shoulder and held tightly while Harry grasped his arm. There was a familiar pressure about my entire body, though it was much worse than before, probably because I wasn't apparating properly. It felt as though my eyeballs were being pressed into the back of my head and as though there were bars of brick wrapping around my chest.

Harry was gulping great lungfuls of air and I took a few deep breaths myself. "Are you all right?" Dumbledore asked, looking down at Harry. "The sensation does take some getting used to."

"I'm fine." Harry said, rubbing his ears. "But I think I might prefer brooms. . ."

I laughed and Dumbledore smiled, drawing his cloak around him tighter. It was chilly for the start of July. "This way."

"So tell me, Harry. Your scar. . . has it been hurting at all?" Dumbledore asked.

"No and I've been wondering about that. I thought it would be burning all the time now Voldemort's getting so powerful again." Harry said, his hand touching his scar briefly.

"I, on the other hand, thought otherwise." Dumbledore said. "Lord Voldemort has finally realized the dangerous access to his thoughts and feelings you have been enjoying. It appears that he is now employing Occlumency against you."

"Well, I'm not complaining." Harry muttered.

"We should continue Occlumency though." I piped up. "Just in case."

Harry shuddered.

"Professor?" Harry asked.

"Harry?"

"Er- where are we exactly?"

"Budleigh Babberton." I replied.

"Sorry?" Harry asked.

I sighed. "Budleigh Babberton. Professor Dumbledore needs to get a Professor for Potions."

"Potions?" Harry asked. "Snape's gone?"

"Professor Snape, Harry. No, I've given him a different position." Dumbledore said, seeming lost in thought.

"Anyways," I said. "Horace Slughorn is his name and he likes to collect er- people, in a way. Dumbledore will explain more when we leave his house."

"Ah." Harry said in a distasteful voice and then asked, "Professor, why couldn't we just Apparate directly into this person's house?"

"Because it would be quite as rude as kicking down the front door. Courtesy dictates that we offer fellow wizards the opportunity of denying us entry. In any case, most Wizarding dwellings are magically protected from unwanted Apparators. At Hogwarts, for instance-"

"- you can't Apparate anywhere inside the buildings or ground." Harry answered quickly. "Hermione Granger told me."

"She is quite right. We turn left again."

"Sir, I saw in the Daily Prophet that Fudge has been sacked. . ." Harry said.

"Correct, he has been replaced, as I am sure you also saw, by Rufus Scrimgeour, who used to be Head of the Auror office." Dumbledore said.

"Is he. . . Do you think he's good?" Harry asked. I remembered that Trang had asked a similar question only two days ago. Blimey, that seemed like a long time ago.

"An interesting question. He is able, certainly. A more decisive and forceful personality than Cornelius."

"Yes, but I mean-"

"I know what you meant. Rufus is a man of action and having fought Dark wizards for most of his working life, does not underestimate Lord Voldemort." Dumbledore said but did not seem to be more talkative about the subject.

"And. . . sir. . . I saw about Madam Bones."

"Yes. A terrible loss. She was a great witch. Just up here, I think- ouch." He'd pointed with his burned hand.

"I tried to warn Susan." I muttered suddenly. "But it was to late, I'd foreseen the murder to late."

"She defended herself wonderfully Elizabeth. I do not believe a warning ahead of time would have deterred her from leaving home." Dumbledore said gently.

"Sir- I got a Ministry of Magic leaflet by owl, about security measures we should all take against the Death Eaters. . ." Harry said. He sure had a lot of questions but I didn't blame him.

"Yes, I received one myself." Dumbledore said, smiling. "Did you find it useful."

"Not really." Harry said honestly.

"No, I thought not. You have not asked me, for instance, what is my favorite flavor of jam, to check that I am indeed Professor Dumbledore and not an impostor." Dumbledore said and I giggled.

"I didn't. . ."

"For future reference, Harry, it is raspberry. . . although, of course, if I were a Death Eater, I would have been sure to research my own jam preferences before impersonating myself."

"That's disgusting," I blurted out and then blushed, "Sorry Professor, I didn't mean that. I'm more of a grape jelly sort of person."

Dumbledore chuckled. "My food tastes have always been a bit different than most."

"Er. . ." Harry said again, looking slightly discombobulated. "Right. Well, on that leaflet, it said something about Inferi. What exactly are they? The leaflet wasn't very clear."

"Corpses." I said. "Dead bodies that are bewitched to do a Dark Wizards bidding. A bit like zombies. . . I suppose in a Muggle sense of the word."

"That's correct." Dumbledore said. "Inferi have not been seen for a long time, however, not since Voldemort was last powerful. . . He killed enough people to make an army of them, of course. This is the place, Harry, just here. . ."

I had a vivid image of a dead Madam Bones doing work for Voldemort and gave a violent shudder.

"Oh dear. Oh dear, dear, dear." Dumbledore said.

The front door was hanging off its hinges as though the house had been broken into. I snorted. "He's faking it." I led the way inside, not bothering to even have my wand out. Dumbledore and Harry quickly followed behind me as I stepped over the threshold.

"Lumos." I lit my wand and led the way through to the sitting room. I paused for a second, appreciative of the destruction in the room. A grandfather clock was in pieces, a piano was on its side, there was a chandelier that appeared to have fallen. There were fragments of glass everywhere along with strewn piano keys. I lifted my wand higher and saw blood on the walls.

Then I approached the armchair, laying on its side and said, "Hello." I poked the armchair with my wand, a bit hard.

"Ouch!"

"Good evening, Horace!" Dumbledore said pleasantly, coming to stand next to me.

"There was no need to stick the wand in that hard. It hurt." Mr. Slughorn said, getting to his feet.

"My apologies." I said, lowering my wand. "I was afraid that if I did not stick it in with just the right amount of force, you wouldn't reveal yourself."

"What gave it away?" He grunted at Dumbledore, probably figuring that it was his plan for one of his students to stick a wand in his stomach.

"My dear Horace, if the Death Eaters really had come to call, the Dark Mark would have been set over the house." Dumbledore said, looking amused, "Of course, I can't take all the credit, Elizabeth here simply walked in and found you. I assume she probably foresaw the incident long before we even arrived on the street."

Mr. Slughorn looked at me with some sort of greed in his eyes, "The Dark Mark. Knew there was something. . . Ah well. Wouldn't have had time anyway. I'd only just put the finishing touches to my upholstery when you entered the room. A seer, ay?"

"Something like that." I muttered with distaste.

"Would you like my assistance clearing up?" Dumbledore asked.

"Please." Professor Slughorn said, putting his hand in his pocket.

I waved my wand around before either of them could bring theirs out. The furniture flew back to its original places; ornaments reformed in midair; lanterns soared onto side tables; silver picture frames flew across the room, back to the walls; torn books repaired themselves, putting themselves back on bookshelves; and dry wall flew back, fixing the holes on the walls.

"How old are you?" Mr. Slughorn asked with scrutinizing eyes.

"Fifteen almost sixteen." I chirped.

"What kind of blood was that, incidentally?" Dumbledore asked over the chiming grandfather clock.

"On the walls? Dragon." Slughorn shouted over the grinding sounds of the chandelier being repaired.

The piano was fixed with final plunks of the keys and then they turned to face each other over the silence.

"Yes, dragon. My last bottle, and prices are sky-high at the moment. Still, it might be reusable." I turned my attention away from the walrus like man and sat down on the newly improved sofa, staring at the stationary pictures on the wood desk.

"Oho, Oho!" I looked up to see Slughorn's eyes were now on Harry.

"This, is Harry Potter. Harry, Elizabeth, this is an old friend and colleague of mine, Horace Slughorn." Dumbledore said, making the introductions. I noticed he did not say my name. What was the meaning behind that?

"So that's how you thought you'd persuade me, is it? Well, the answer's no, Albus." Slughorn pushed past Harry and kept his back to us.

"I suppose we can have a drink, at least? For old time's sake?" Dumbledore asked.

"All right then, one drink." Mr. Slughorn said ungraciously.

Dumbledore smiled, directing Harry to sit in an armchair in the middle of the room.

"Hmpf." Slughorn said "Here-" He thrust a drink at Dumbledore and thrust the tray at Harry. Harry took a drink and passed the tray to me.

"Well, how have you been keeping, Horace?" Dumbledore asked.

"Not so well. Weak chest, Wheezy, Rheumatism too. Can't move like I used to. Well, that's to be expected. Old age. Fatigue. Can't move like I used to. Well, that's to be expected. Old age. Fatigue." He said at once, showing off all his flaws.

"And yet you must have moved fairly quickly to prepare such a welcome for us at such short notice. You can't have had more than three minutes' warning?" Dumbledore asked.

"Two. Didn't hear my Intruder charm go off, I was taking a bath." Slughorn was, half irritated and half proud. "Still, the fact remains that I'm an old man, Albus. A tired old man who's earned the right to a quiet life and few creature comforts."

I'd been looking around the room so I knew what he meant about 'comforts'. There were chocolates and drinks and books and soft chairs and plump cushions. If I was retired, this was exactly the type of life I'd finish my life off with, though I'd probably replace the chocolates with those sour candies from America that Trang usually sent me every year for Christmas.

"You're not yet as old as I am, Horace." Dumbledore said.

"Amen." I muttered and then quickly took a sip of the drink. It was not as good as Madam Rosmerta's drink. I put the cup back down on the coffee table.

"Well, maybe you ought to think about retirement yourself, reactions not what they were, I see." Slughorn said, his pale eyes were resting on Dumbledore's hand.

To my amazement, instead of hiding his hand, Dumbledore showed more of it. "You're quite right, I am undoubtedly slower than I was. But on the other hand. . ." He shrugged and spread his hands wide and I noticed that there was a very large ring on one of his fingers.

The ring was ugly and clumsy looking. It looked as though it were made of gold. It was probably goblin made and extremely old. There was a large black stone set in it, perhaps an onyx? Of course, there were also black diamonds, black sapphire, black pearl, obsidian, black spinel, black Zircon, and so many other black gems and stones that could have been a possible centerpiece. There was a crack going down the middle of it.

I watched as Mr. Slughorn's eyes rested on it and he frowned as though he recognized it from somewhere. And I realized then that he must've seen the ring before, that's why Dumbledore showed more of his hand then less, to reveal the ring, to show it to Slughorn. . . for some reason still unknown to me. But I was sure it would be more clear eventually.

"So, all these precautions against intruders, Horace. . . are they for the Death Eaters' benefit, or mine?" Dumbledore asked.

"What would the Death Eaters want with a poor broken-down old buffer like me?" Slughorn demanded, tearing his eyes from the ring.

"I imagine that they would want you to turn your considerable talents to coercion, torture, and murder. Are you really telling me that they haven't come recruiting yet?" Dumbledore asked, very briefly touching his glasses.

"I haven't given them a chance." Mr. Slughorn said after a moment of silence. "I've been on the move for a year. Never stay in one place more than a week. Move from Muggle house to Muggle house- the owners of this place are on holiday in the Canary Islands- it's been very pleasant, I'll be sorry to leave. It's quite easy once you know how, one simple Freezing Charm on these absurd burglar alarms they use instead of Sneakoscopes and make sure the neighbors don't spot you bringing in the piano."

I thought about how Sirius had been living in a cave, living off rats to avoid capture. I wondered if things would've ended up different if he'd been like Peter Pettigrew. He could've gone to a pet shelter, someone would've adopted him, he'd be alive. . .

Would I have done that? I was a cat, was I not? Would I have been content to be some little girls' pet for the rest of my life? No, I doubted I would've done that.

"Ingenious, but it sounds a rather tiring existence for a broken-down old buffer in search of a quiet life. Now, if you were to return to Hogwarts-"

"If you're going to tell me my life would be more peaceful at that pestilential school, you can save your breath, Albus! I might have been in hiding, but some funny rumors have reached me since Dolores Umbridge left! If that's how you treat teachers these days-"

I snorted in distaste as Dumbledore said, "Professor Umbridge ran afoul of our Centaur herd." I felt a twinge of annoyance. 'Our Centaur Herd'? "I think you, Horace, would have known better than to stride into the forest and call a horde of angry centaurs 'filthy half-breeds'. His eyes twinkled in my direction as though knowing what I was thinking.

"That's what she did, did she? Idiotic woman. Never liked her." Mr. Slughorn said.

Harry and I chuckled but Dumbledore and Slughorn looked at Harry. "Sorry." Harry said hastily. "It's just- I didn't like her either."

Dumbledore stood up suddenly and Mr. Slughorn looked up hopefully, "Are you leaving?"

"No, I was wondering whether I might use your bathroom." Dumbledore said pleasantly.

"Oh, second on the left down the hall."

Dumbledore strode from the room and once the door closed behind him, there was silence. Slughorn got up as though he needed to do something and crossed towards the fireplace, warming his massive backside against it. I wondered if he was bigger than Cousin Dudley.

"Don't think I don't know why he's brought you." Slughorn said suddenly and Harry looked at him. "You look very like your father."

"Yeah, I've been told." Harry said.

"Except for your eyes. You've got-"

"My mother's eyes, yeah." Harry said.

"And you." Slughorn said, looking at me and I looked up at him. "You look like your mum too. But you got your dad's eyes. Guess you two mixed up your eyes when you were born."

I didn't bother to correct him, and when Harry opened his mouth I sent him the briefest shake of my head.

"Hmpf. Yes, well. You shouldn't have favorites as a teacher, of course, but she was one of mine, your mother. Lily Evans. One of the brightest I ever taught. Vivacious, you know. Charming girl. I used to tell her she ought to have been in my House. Very cheeky answers I used to get back too."

"Which was your House?" Harry asked.

"Slytherin." I answered for him.

"Oh now!" Slughorn said, giving me a curious look, but noticed the expression on Harry's face too. "don't go holding that against me! You'll be Gryffindors like her, I suppose? Yes, it usually goes in the families. Not always, though. Ever heard of Sirius Black? You must have done- been in the papers for the last couple of years- died a few weeks ago-"

My heart seized in my chest and I steadied my breathing by taking a large gulp of whatever the fuck I was drinking.

"Well, anyway, he was a big pal of your father's at school. The whole Black family had been in my House, but Sirius ended up in Gryffindor! Shame- he was a talented boy. I got his brother, Regulus, when he came along, but I'd have liked the set."

"I'm in Hufflepuff." I said softly.

"Hmm." Slughorn said, not really listening, he was pouring himself more drink. "Your mother was Muggle-born, of course. Couldn't believe it when I found out. Thought she must have been pure-blood, she was so good."

"One of my best friends is Muggle-born and she's the best in our year." Harry said a bit defensively.

"Funny how that sometimes happens, isn't it?" Mr. Slughorn asked.

"Not really." Harry said in a cold voice.

He seemed surprised, "You mustn't think I'm prejudiced! No, no, no! Haven't I just said your mother was one of my all-time favorite students? And there was Dirk Cresswell in the year after her too- now Head of the Goblin Liaison Office, of course- another Muggle-born, a very gifted student, and still gives me excellent inside information on the goings-on at Gringotts!"

He was bouncing up and down now, seemingly glad Dumbledore wasn't around. He pointed at the fixed photographs. "All ex-students, all signed. You'll notice Barnabas Cuffe, editor of the Daily Prophet, he's always interested to hear my take on the day's news. And Ambrosius Flume, of Honeydukes- a hamper every birthday, and all because I was able to give him an introduction to Ciceron Harkiss, who gave him his first job! And at the back- you'll see her if you just crane your neck- that's Gwenog Jones, who of course captains the Holyhead Harpies. . . People are always astonished to hear I'm on first-name terms with the Harpies, and free tickets whenever I want them!"

"And all these people know where to find you, to send you stuff?" Harry asked.

Mr. Slughorn's smiled dropped off his face and I wished that Harry'd kept his mouth shut. "Of course not, I have been out of touch with everybody for a year." He shrugged, "Still, the prudent wizard keeps his head down in such times. All very well for Dumbledore to talk, but taking up a post at Hogwarts just now would be tantamount to declaring my public allegiance to the Order of the Phoenix! And while I'm sure they're very admirable and brave and all the rest of it, I don't personally fancy the mortality rate-"

"You don't have to join the Order." I said quietly. "Many of the teachers there aren't in it."

"I reckon the staff are safer than most people while Dumbledore's headmaster; he's supposed to be the only one Voldemort ever feared, isn't he?" Harry added and Slughorn gave a bit of a squawk and a shudder at hearing his name.

"Well, yes, it is true that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has never sought a fight with Dumbledore, and I suppose one could argue that as I have not joined the Death Eaters, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named can hardly count me a friend. . . in which case, I might well be safer a little closer to Albus. I cannot pretend that Amelia Bones's death did not shake me. . . If she, with all her Ministry contacts and protection. . ."

I was a bit irritated with him by now. So he thought contacts was what kept people safe? Knowing the right people? Bloody hell!

Luckily, the toilet flushed at that moment and Dumbledore opened the bathroom door and came back into the room.

"Oh, there you are, Albus." Slughorn said, jumping. "You've been a very long time. Upset stomach?"

"No, I was merely reading the Muggle magazines. I do love knitting patterns. Well, Harry, Elizabeth, we have trespassed upon Horace's hospitality quite long enough; I think it is time for us to leave." Dumbledore said.

Harry jumped to his feet though I got off the sofa a little slower, setting my glass down.

"You're leaving?" Mr. Slughorn asked. Despite the fact that he'd smashed the house so that we would think him dead, and despite the fact that he had wanted us to leave a long time ago, he seemed quite disappointed that we were leaving now.

"Yes, indeed. I think I know a lost cause when I see one." Dumbledore said.

"Lost. . .?" He seemed agitated.

"Well, I'm sorry you don't want the job, Horace. Hogwarts would have been glad to see you back again. Our greatly increased security notwithstanding, you will always be welcome to visit, should you wish to." Dumbledore said, raising his left hand in farewell.

"Yes. . . well. . . very gracious. . . as I say. . ."

"Good-bye, then."

"Bye." Harry and I said and we headed for the front door.

"3. . . 2. . . 1. . ." I muttered under my breath loud enough for Harry and Dumbledore to hear.

There was a shout from behind us, "All right, all right, I'll do it!"

"You will come out of retirement?" Dumbledore asked, turning to face Slughorn who was now standing in the doorway of the sitting room.

"Yes, yes, I must be mad, but yes."

"Wonderful. Then, Horace, we shall see you on the first of September."

"Yes, I daresay you will." Slughorn grunted. We set off down the garden path and then we heard him shout, "I'll want a pay raise, Dumbledore!"

Dumbledore chuckled as the garden gate shut behind us. "Well done you two."

"We didn't do anything!" Harry said in surprise. "and why'd you stop him from saying that you weren't my sister?" Harry asked me.

"Because." I said. "If you didn't notice, Harry, he likes to collect people. What was the harm in letting him think wrongly so long as it made him take the job?"

"Oh." Harry said, frowning.

"Did you like him?" Dumbledore asked, frowning just the slightest. Despite knowing that it wasn't time to tell Harry yet, he seemed quite disappointed that I wasn't telling him.

"Er-" Harry said.

"I don't know." I replied honestly. "Sometimes, I think I could like him, and then he says something, and there's an extreme feeling of annoyance."

Dumbledore chuckled. "Horace, likes his comfort. He also likes the company of the famous, the successful, and the powerful. He enjoys the feeling that he influences these people. He has never wanted to occupy the throne himself; he prefers the backseat- more room to spread out, you see. he used to handpick favorites at Hogwarts, sometimes for their ambition of their brains, sometimes for their charm or their talent, and he had an uncanny knack for choosing those who would go on to become outstanding in their various fields. Horace formed a kind of club with his favorites with himself at the center, making introduces, forging useful contacts between members, and always reaping some kind of benefit in return, whether a free box of his favorite crystalized pineapple or the chance to recommend the next junior member of the Goblin Liaison Office."

It made me thing of a spiderweb or a food web. There was something in the middle and everything branched out from there.

"I tell you all this, not to turn you against Horace- or as we must now call him, Professor Slughorn- but to put you on your guard. He will undoubtedly try to collect you, Harry. You would be the jewel of his collection; 'the Boy Who Lived'. . . or, as they call you these days, 'the Chosen One'. No doubt, he'll try to collect you as well Elizabeth, mostly to your striking resemblance to Lily Potter despite not having a true relation. And of course, once he sees your skills on the Quidditch field and your brain in the classroom, he won't even care you're not related. This will, do." Dumbledore said, stopping.

I quickly put a hand on his shoulder, grabbing it tight and there was that horrible sensation again. I think I preferred Apparating with Dad.

"Professor, I know that you want to have a private conversation with Harry though, of course, I know most of the contents of the conversation." I said lightly. "I'll just er- go into the Burrow, shall I?"

"That you may." Dumbledore said. "I'm sure Molly will let you in right away. Harry, if you'd follow me."

And so, I headed to the back door that led to the kitchen and knocked. "Who's there? Declare yourself!" Mrs. Weasley's voice said through the back door.

"Er- Elizabeth Kane." I said awkwardly.

"Elizabeth, dear! Oh, what a fright. I didn't think you'd show up till tomorrow!" She opened the door to let me in and I walked through.

"Um Dumbledore and Harry are finishing up a er- private chat." I said. "Oh! Wotcher Tonks!"

She gave me the briefest of smiles as she was the one I'd picked the line up from. I immediately felt awkward. She didn't seem to be able to meet my eyes either.

Mrs. Weasley sighed. "I suppose you know what's going on, Elizabeth?"

"Er well yeah." I muttered, sitting down at the table across from Tonks. "He won't er- budge. Not that that means anything." I said with a roll of my eyes. "I already saw the wedding ring and I know he marries you I just can't see when."

"Is it really just because he's a werewolf?" Tonks asked softly. I took her in. She looked shabby, just like dad. Her hair was brown now, the same color dad's fur might've been. I knew her patronus had changed to a werewolf now too.

"Yes." I said solidly. "He's afraid too, of course. He doesn't want to open his heart, he thinks he'll end up hurting you."

"Have you told him that you foresaw it?" Tonks asked, sounding both hopeful and also not.

I shook my head. "I don't want either of you to feel that you married because I told you I saw it. He'll come around, just give him some time, okay?"

At that moment, there was another knock on the door. "That'll be Dumbledore and Harry." I said to Mrs. Weasley who hurried to the door and opened it to let them in.

"Hello, Professor." Tonks said. "Wotcher, Harry."

"Hi, Tonks." Harry said.

I looked at Tonks. She looked ill. She almost looked how dad looked before full moons. Had she let herself get bitten? No, surely I'd have seen that! And that would definitely ruin things for her being an Auror. No, she was just sad. I could understand that.

"I'd better be off." She said, jumping up and grabbing her cloak, pulling it around her shoulders, "Thanks for the tea and sympathy, Molly."

"Please don't leave on my account." Dumbledore said, "I cannot stay, I have urgent matters to discuss with Rufus Scrimgeour."

"No, no, I need to get going. Night-"

"Dear, why not come to dinner at the weekend, Remus and Mad-Eye are coming-?" Mrs. Weasley started.

"No, really, Molly. . . thanks anyway. Good night, everyone." Tonks hurried past Dumbledore.

"Well, I shall see you at Hogwarts, Harry. Take care of yourself, Molly, your servant." Then Dumbledore left as well and Mrs. Weasley closed the door behind her and steered Harry by the shoulders into the full glow of the lantern.

"You're like Ron. Both of you look as though you've had Stretching Jinxes put on you. I swear Ron's grown four inches since I last bought him school robes. Are you hungry, Harry?"

"Yeah, I am." Harry said, sounding surprised.

"What about you Elizabeth?"

"A little bit." I said.

"So Hermione's here?" Harry asked as a large orange cat jumped up onto his lap.

"Oh yes, she arrived the day before yesterday. Everyone's in bed of course, we didn't expect you two for hours. Here you are-"

She poured Harry some onion soup. She poured me Chicken Noodle. I was immensely pleased.

"Bread, dear?"

"Thanks Mrs. Weasley." Harry said.

"I'm alright." I said.

"So you persuaded Horace Slughorn to take the job?" Mrs. Weasley said, sitting down in front of us.

Harry nodded.

"He taught Arthur and me. He was at Hogwarts for ages, started around the same time as Dumbledore, I think. Did you like him?"

I snorted and Harry gave a jerk with his head.

"I know what you mean. Of course he can be charming when he wants to be, but Arthur's never liked him much. The Ministry's littered with Slughorn's old favorites, he was always good at giving leg ups, but he never had much time for Arthur- didn't seem to think he was enough of a highflier. Well, that just shows you, even Slughorn makes mistakes. I don't know whether Ron's told you in any of his letters- it's only just happened- but Arthur's been promoted!"

"Congratulations." I said, watching Harry choke on his soup so that he could burst out with watering eyes, "That's great!"

"You two are sweet. Yes, Rufus Scrimgeour has set up several new offices in response to the present situation, and Arthur's heading the Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects. It's a big job, he's got ten people reporting to him now!"

"What exactly-?" Harry started.

"Well, you see, in all the panic about You-Know-Who, odd things have been cropping up for sale everywhere, things that are supposed to guard against You-Know-Who and the Death Eaters. You can imagine the kind of things- so-called protective potions that are really gravy with a bit of bubotuber pus added, or instructions for defensive jinxes that actually make your ears fall off. . . Well, in the main the perpetrators are just people like Mundungus Fletcher, who've never done an honest day's work in their lives and are taking advantage of how frightened everybody is, but every now and then something really nasty turns up. The other day Arthur confiscated a box of cursed Sneakoscopes that were almost certainly planted by a Death Eater. So you see, it's a very important job, and I tell him it's just silly to miss dealing with spark plugs and toasters and all the rest of that Muggle rubbish." Mrs. Weasley said.

"Well, he can always have a hobby." I said genially.

"Is Mr. Weasley still at work?" Harry asked.

"Yes he is. As a matter of fact, he's a tiny bit late. . . He said he'd be back around midnight. . ." She turned to look at her clock.

The family clock was a fantastic clock and I wondered where she'd gotten it or who'd made it. It had all of her families names on a spoon and it would hang where it should be: work, hospital, school, home and a few others. All nine hands were pointed at mortal peril right now.

"It's been like that for a while now ever since You-Know-Who came back into the open." Mrs. Weasley said in a false casual voice. "I suppose everybody's in mortal danger now. . . I don't think it can be just our family. . . but I don't know anyone else who's got a clock like this, so I can't check. Oh!"

Mr. Weasley hand had jumped to traveling.

"I think I'll go to bed now." I said, getting up from the table. "Good night Harry. Good night Mrs. Weasley. Tell Mr. Weasley I said hello." I kissed Harry's cheek and then headed up the stairs. Mrs. Weasley didn't even have to tell me where I was sleeping. I was going to be sleeping with Hermione and Ginny.

I slipped into the room and found that the cot had already been made up for me and my things were in the corner of the room. Sadie was sitting up on the wardrobe and swooped down to meet me, hooting quietly so as not to wake Ginny or Hermione who were both sleeping peacefully.

"Safe hunting." I whispered and she swooped out the window. I climbed into bed and fell into a dreamless sleep. 

⬅️➡️

[nunuxhoho]

can't believe he just left.

[hptheboywholived]

This Deleted Scene Would Have Changed Harry Potter & The Deathly Hallows | Nerdstalgic

Often When a Director Leaves a Scene on the Cutting Room Floor, it's for a Good Reason. Though when David Yates was Finishing Harry Potter & the 2 part Deathly Hallows Installments, a Deleted Scene Could Have Added a World of Closure to His life @ Number 4 Privet Drive. When Leaving his Childhood Home in the Film, it all Seems Very Quick & Emotionless. But With Just a Few Minutes of Deleted Dialogue Added Back in, it Could Have Given Audiences the Closure He Needed From the Dursley's & his Childhood Home.

[dream-with-a-fever]

ron weasley did not

come to privet drive to rescue harry from his abusive home after he hadn’t been replying to any of his letters and he was worried

almost back out of following the spiders bc they’re his biggest fear, but upon seeing hermione’s empty seat at dinner, find the courage to go

defend hermione from any and everyone who called her a mudblood

constantly worry about hermione’s workload (especially in 3rd year) and notice that whenever she disappeared

offer to teach hermione his entire family tree so that she could pretend to be pure blood to keep her safe from death eaters

defend harry to everyone (percy, seamus, half the school) when everyone thought he was lying about voldemort’s return

stand up on his broken leg in front of harry and say that “if you want to kill harry, you’ll have to kill us first!” to what they believed to be a raving lunatic mass murderer

gift dobby his newest weasley jumper and the new socks he got given for christmas

stand up against snape when he was bullying hermione (and got a detention as a result)

beg the deatheaters who were torturing hermione to “leave her alone!! take [him], have [him] instead!”

always check up on his friends when he notices something is up, even if it’s in subtle ways

immediately befriend harry on the train in ps and teach him about the wizarding world

write to charlie immediately so he could help hagrid out of trouble (re the dragon, norbert)

encourage neville to stand up to people, and praise him when he actually does it

help harry put on his pajamas after he broke his arm during quidditch

have to be physically restrained from attacking malfoy after he said he wished hermione had died in cos

worry about harry’s preoccupation with the mirror of erised and how it was affecting him

remind hermione to eat her meals and get a good night’s sleep when she’s studying 24/7 for their owl exams

display acute levels of emotional intelligence in the way he interacts with harry and hermione, essentially being the glue that keeps them all together

get splinched almost in half, lose blood and suffer agonising pain but seem more worried about the cattermoles and whether or not they were okay

realise his mistakes & own up to them, acknowledging his role in certain falling outs (especially in deathly hallows)

be genuinely hilarious and fun, and lighten the load in everyone else’s’ lives with the humour he brings to

write to his mother in ps asking her to give harry presents too because he doesn’t think he’ll received any

go to the department of mysteries to help harry without a second a thought

go on the run with harry to hunt for horcruxes without a second thought

run to hermione’s aid when malfoy hits her with a nasty hex outside snape’s classroom and take her to the hospital wing

help hermione with buckbeak’s appeal, spending hours upon hours reading up on the case

extend the first olive branch after fighting with hermione because of scabber’s “death” and apologising, after which she then apologises too

demand to re-try out for the position of keeper on the quidditch team because he wanted to earn it himself with no favouritism or help

choose to stay on the quidditch team despite the bullying from the slytherin team and his nerves about his flying ability

stand up to malfoy at every opportunity, when he was insulting him, but more importantly, insulting his family & his friends

save harry’s life in dh by pulling him out of the lake, and then kill the horcrux

remember the houseelves during the battle of hogwarts and worry about their safety

continue to admire and adore his older twin brothers despite the fact that they were sometimes cruel to him

become almost annoyingly protective of his little sister (ESPECIALLY after the diary situation)

single-handedly out smart and escape five armed and deadly snatchers

try his best to overcome his insecurities and feelings of being overlooked, in order to support the people around him

sacrifice himself without a second thought during the chess game in ps because he knew harry’s survival was more important than his

for y’all to speak on him the way you do. calling him cruel, evil, selfish etc??? open your fucking eyes

[hellsitegenetics]

My favorite animal? Well it would have to be the tailless whip scorpion. Why? By all accounts its a monster. The long pedipalps, its whip like legs, its speed, and propensity to hide in dark, damp, and narrow places.

But these certain arachnids are gentle. They have families that they can recognize. They have their own dance. In a world of apes, octopuses, and birds could something so small be so intelligent? Is that intelligence?

String identified: at aa? t a t t ta c. ? a acct t a t. T g a, t g, t , a t t a, a, a a ac.

t t cta aac a gt. T a a tat t ca cg. T a t ac. a a, ct, a c tg a tgt? tat tgc?

Closest match: Ligustrum vulgare genome assembly, chromosome: 8 Common name: Common privet

[lo-fag]

JK Rowling’s funeral will be beautiful.

The cameras, the faceless attendees, the press swarming outside the gates. The touching notes left by her followers, thanking her for building their childhoods. The radfems mourning the loss of their god.

The grey-faced family and friends, escorted out of the gates by countless bodyguards, hounded by journalists and flashing light that illuminates all of the little details in their hand-woven black clothes.

Every stitch, every seam, there on display. Every tear, every bloodshot eye for the world to see.

But then They come. After the last stragglers of the funeral have left, whether it be hours or days, We will arrive.

Black combat boots and worn Converse, crop tops and baggy jumpers, ripped jeans and tartan skirts.

We will find our way in, jumping fences and picking locks, weaving through the neglected stones of others until we reach the corner that she bought for herself.

Her gravestone is inscribed and decorated, at least twice as big as the others in the graveyard.

We read it aloud.

“Mr. and Mrs.Dursley of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. Thank you Joanne, for making our childhoods.”

We laugh. The angel over the grave, hands clasped in prayer, neck and wings strung with scarves of red, yellow, green, blue seems to smile with us.

We take the books first. Most of them are signed copies. They will make our kindling. The scarves and cloaks are too polyester-stuffed and mass produced for that.

We burn the books, dancing and laughing in the dying light, mocking her denial of the burnings back in the 40s.

The pictures are next. Portraits of her, posing elegantly, smiling gracefully. The kind face that hides bigotry and disgust at fellow human beings.

We burn them. Their ashes fuel our crazed laughter.

We celebrate our childhoods. We celebrate the world, the magical, fantasy world she crafted for us. We do not celebrate her. We celebrate her soon to be deleted Twitter account, after one last mournful post about how incredible she was.

We shall mock it, tomorrow. But tonight we celebrate.

[leclercinvegas]

instagram au

who: daniel riccardo x y/n sainz

author’s note: daniel is still racing for mclaren and pretend in the first photo carlos is wearing ferrari stuff

summary: you and daniel kept your relationship mostly privet and that included from family

y/nsainz posted!

liked by carlossainz55, daniel3.jpg, and 794,438 others

y/nsainz: i think i kinda love austrialia

comments on this post have been limited

view all 47 comments

carlossainz55: who’s is that

y/nsainz: no one :)

daniel3.jpg: and austrialia loves you

*liked by y/nsainz

danielricciardo posted!

liked by carlossainz55, y/nsainz, and 734,374 others

danielricciardo: i took her to australia and she loves it

view all 1,508 comments

user23781: is that y/n sainz? she recently posted and her caption said that she loved Australia?

user36721: that seems like a bit of a stretch but i guess maybe...?

f1wags: new wag alert?

y/nsainz: it was beautiful. the person i was with made me fall more in love with it too.

carlossainz: whos the girl daniel?

landonorris: yea daniel whos the girl?

danielricciardo: she doesn’t want you guys to know.

y/nsainz added to their story!

caption:  quick pit stop

danielricciardo posted!

liked by y/nsainz and 854,203 others

danielricciardo: bring your girlfriend to a race they said. it’ll be fun they said.

comments on this post have been limited

y/nsainz: ❤️❤️

*liked by danielricciarido

carlossainz: y/n has that hoodie...

danielricciardo: idk what you’re talking about man

y/nsainz: yea idk what you’re talking about man.you’re crazy

|

|

this is pt 1 or maybe the final part idk because i am stumped and dont know how to continue it

[ribread03]

Chris Sturniolo head cannons

AN: Just some thoughts tbh.

★ stars contain smut talk

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

☆ Chris is really big on dating to marry. You know that he's going to propose one day, this is a topic that has been openly talked about in your relationship, you don't know when or where but you know its going to be privet and somewhere nice with some family. (his brothers, his mom and dad, and your siblings, as well as your parents).

☆ He has a lot of clothes. Especially hoodies. He always has an extra one on him knowing that you'll probably ask for one. He is always offering you one too, making sure that your warm and cozy.

☆ He loves to sleep. He is always in his PJ's and falling asleep on the couch, in the car, wherever he can honestly. If he's not sleeping he's leaning on you trying to fall asleep.

☆ He is a big nickname person. Always coming up with a new one to call you. Some of his favorites are, Ma, Babe, Love, Princess, Beautiful. That's just to name some.

☆ Chris loves getting to call you his. He loves to post you online not caring what people think. He is always post the goofiest photos of the two of you. You love and hate it because now some of the worst and best photos of you are online for millions to see, but you mostly love it because he loves it.

★ Chris loves when he can get multiple orgasms out of you. The way your legs shake around him sends him over the edge every time.

★ He loves when you play with yourself. Watching you get yourself to your high makes him almost cum in his pants. He loves hearing you moan his name even tho he hasn't touched you yet.

★ Chris is dominate in bed. Thrusting into you watching as your tits bounce and hearing the headboard slam against the wall every time he hits that spot that makes you scream his name.

★ He is really big on after care. He thinks its the most important part of sex. Being able to take care of you and hold you in his arms while you catch your breath is the best thing of the whole night.

☆ Chris loves making you food. He like trying new things and trying his best to follow a recipe you send to him.

☆ Chris definitely love Pepsi more than you. You know this. He knows this. You're ok with it because you love root beer just as much.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN pt2: I don't even know if this is as many as Matt's or not. I didn't feel as motivated to write this one, but if I think or more I'll be sure to update it or post a part two or something.

[loriannbowman]

Honkai: Star Rail X Arknights | Yandere!Sunday X Sankta!Reader

You had no idea how you got to this city of bright lights and sounds. Music seems to pour in from every corner and building. The last thing you remember, is Doctor Loriann sent you to the rec-room and you decided to take a little nap. And now you're 'awake' in this bizarre and unknown city. What seems like thousands of people swarm the streets. Just where the hell are you?

"Excuse me? Are you lost?~" a sweet voice asks you.

You whip your head around to see a man with a halo... and wings sprouting from his head? Sankta have wings, yes, but never from their head... At least not the ones you've met, and you've met quite a few.

"U-Um... Y-Yeah..." you stutter out, unsure if talking to a stranger in a strange place is the best idea.

He looks at you, focusing his gaze on you. You can almost feel the deep set eyes burning into your soul.

"U-Uh... S-Sir...? Why are you-"

His stare grows harder before he looks away, letting out a sigh.

"Are you not a Halovian?"

"Ha-what? Is that some different title for a Sankta?"

"Sankta...?" he whispers under his breath. "You have a halo."

"Y-Yeah... I do..."

"So are you not a Halovian?"

"No."

His eyes seem to sharpen and a small scowl crosses his body.

He steps closer to you. You have no idea what he plans to do until-

He reaches out and touches your halo. You can't help but yelp at the cool touch from his gloved hands.

"So you can feel my touch."

You swat his hand.

"Of course I can!"

"Interesting..."

You push his away, trying to make space.

"A-Anyway, sir, do you know where I am?"

The man tilts his head confused.

"You're in Penacony."

"Pena-wha-? What's with all these names?! Never mind... D-Do you know how I got here?"

"... Did you not enter a dream pool?"

"Dream pool?! Are you-" you shake your head, now is not the time to be rude to someone, "No, no I didn't. The last thing I remember was being on the Rhodes Island Land Ship and going to take a nap."

"Rhodes Island...? I've never heard of that."

"What? Even very secluded people know of Rhodes Island..."

The man hums slightly.

"Interesting... it seems as though... we have a stowaway..."

"Stowaway?! I didn't even mean to come here!"

"Yes, I can clearly see that, however I still need to take you into custody for the protection of the Family and the citizens of Penacony. Though, as a head of the Family myself, I will be taking you with me. It's best if no one else knows of this, it might cause anxiety amongst the people."

"So I'm getting arrested... cool. Doctor, when I get back, you're getting kicked."

❥ Sunday doesn't understand how or why you got here. He monitors the coming and going of every person that enters the dreamscape, and the reverie.

❥ Sunday is confused. He tried to communicate with you through telepathy to keep the conversation privet, yet... you couldn't connect to him.

❥ Sunday keeps you under custody. That custody, however, his by his side at all times. He wants to understand what is with you.

❥ Sunday, who's every thought is slowing shifting to figuring you out. How did you come here? Where are you from? Why do you also have a halo? Why do you know nothing of Aeons and Paths?

❥ Sunday who can't help but itch wanting to pick you apart.

❥ Sunday who doesn't want to let you go, because if you do, he fears he may never see you again, he may never figure out this mystery.

[giselleloversclub]

jeno fics rec !

𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐄𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡

@thatsatricky1

Y/n didn’t have a lot going for her, rising student loan debt, a shared dodgy apartment and a shitty bank job that didn’t pay well. Could her life get any more downgraded? Apparently it could, in the form of a group of well known bank robbers deciding the bank she worked at was the perfect and simplest heist they could do for a change.

wc: 2k

! its just the preview i couldn't find the entire fic but just the preview is already too good !!

personal fav !

RIDIN' WITH YOU

@luvyeni

request. Can I request a biker jeno where the reader is almost ran over by him on a motorcycle and they start knocking into each other from there

streetracer!jeno x fem!reader

wc. 5.7k

! smut !

VOGUE LIKE THE LEE'S

wc : 3.3k

Genre: fluff, some angst, suggestive

lee jeno x carrie (oc)

SUMMER OF LOVE @lattaeyongs

The summer of 1997 was a weird time. As a person living in the modern era, you’d completely forgotten what it was like to live in the ‘90’s. In May 1997, you listened to the Backstreet Boys, flipped through TV Guide, and had an answering machine which seems so archaic now. But that isn’t the only reason why the summer of 1997 was weird. That summer was the time you fell for your brother’s best friend.

word count: 15.2k

personal fav !

MY FIRST AND LAST @leejenowrld

meet lee jeno, campus heartbreaker, fuckboy, secret nerd. he’s the notorious guy that everyone wants but he only wants you —a shy, introverted stranger who appeared from nowhere, turning his life upside down. what starts as a reputation-defying connection swiftly evolves from strangers to friends and to intense, immediate love. it’s a twist the two of you never saw coming, the opening of your hearts to someone unexpected. but as personal struggles and external issues threaten to derail your connection, the once-confident jeno is left shattered and ensnared in the tumult of a love story gone awry.

wc :37k

ALL NIGHT LONG

@writemekpop

You’re pregnant, and the baby’s kicking makes it impossible to sleep. Luckily, Jeno knows just how to take care of you.  

Word count: <1k

AFTER ALL THIS TIME

@leejenowrld

you run into jeno, your ex, at a college party. despite a tough breakup, the spark between you never faded. after a night of reconnecting and reigniting, you realize some feelings are too deep to ever truly go away.

wc : 8.2k

! smut !

CRUSH CULTURE

@lulujeno

liking jeno was a mistake. kissing him didn't make it any better.

wc : 6.3k

LOVE IN A JAR

jeno loves you so much, it is hard for him not to find you in the smallest of things that surround him. he never thought he could taste love, until he fell in love with you.

bf!jeno x female!reader

wc : 1.7k

YOUR WOUNDS WRAPPED WITH MY LOVE PT2

@slytherinshua

fluff. tiny bit of angst. mafia au.

wc: 1.5k

fiancé!jeno x reader.

WHEN IT CLICKS

@lelengerine

jeno x reader

friends to lovers

wc: 1k

MAY I HAVE THIS DANCE ?

@cupofwyn

it was all self-inflicted pressure when the spotlight finally turned to you as the final member of the family to experience a love story—the miracle that has been passed down from your parents down to your siblings and the privilege of love in marriage that has been jealoused upon the ton of high society. though the world might have run out of love stories available for you when your family took it all to their delight, or so you thought.

⠀lee jeno!prince × fem!reader

wc : 10.3k

WASTED ON YOU

@ericscroptop

after a fun night out, your boyfriend takes care of you like the gentleman he is.

wc : 3.4k

bf! jeno x gf! reader

PRIVET BUT NOT SECRET @hhie

instagram story au ?

jeno x reader established relationship

SILVER PLATTER

@odxrilove

when you get confessed to in front of your friends and band members, not everyone seems to think it's funny.

jeno x fem reader

wc : ~3k

RISK PT2

@saythenametotheworld

Firmly convinced that Love-at-First-Sight is a hoax, you never expected to be proven wrong when the universe decided to throw you, quite literally, into Lee Jeno's lap.

Lee Jeno x Reader

wc : 14.7k

[nrdmssgs]

TF 141 + Nikolai taking you home from hospital after minor injury

Masterlist

Fluff, comfort and romance.

Kyle Gaz Garrick

First of all, you are getting a plushie. Even if you are older than him, and that mature, grown up, always very serious type, you are getting a plushie!

The moment he enters your room - the whole space becomes illuminated with his happiest, bright smile. Because Kyle is your personal portable sunshine.

Prior to picking you up, Gaz spent a few hours, coming up with a nice joke, to immediately make you laugh, when he meets you. Might even have tested it on Soap to make sure, it works just as he wants it too.

Overall princess treatment. He has your comfort playlist + movie + treats ready at home. He wants you to forget about time spent in the hospital as soon as possible.

If you convince him, you are not in pain, and he can't hurt you - you won't see the end of that favorite movie of yours.

Johnny Soap MacTavish

As soon, as he helps you sit comfortable in his car - you are inundated with news about everything: from world politics to the latest stories from the life of Johnny’s family.

Talks more than usual, because he was worried sick all the time, that you spent in a hospital. Even if Johnny knew, it was nothing serious, he still hates it, when you are far from him, and he is left to wait, till they let you out.

Asks you if he should stop talking and let you rest in silence, but cant keep quiet for more than ten minutes. (you don't mind though, since you missed his voice so much)

Carries you from the car to the house. Accepts no objections.

"Johnny? You know, I'm fine and can walk on my own?" "Aye. Still a little help won't hurt?" "You'll make up any excuse just to carry me around, won't you?" "... weesht."

Captain John Price

Giving care and attention is in his very nature, so buckle up. When he enters to pick you up - he already has a full list of meds, that you'll need to fully heal.

You can feel, how tense he is, when Price approaches you. "Hey, lovely, docs say, you're doing well here, yeah?" He gives you a big warm hug, but you feel, how unusually careful he is.

John hates seeing you hurt. Mentally, he takes responsibility for everything bad, that happens to you. He should have been there, should have prevented whatever caused your injury, should have, should have, should have...

So he makes it his №1 priority to make sure you heal fast and easy. Price may forget to eat, to sleep, but he never forgets to remind you to take your meds, or go for a little walk, or have a glass of water.

Many forehead kisses. To make you feel better, to lull you to sleep, to feel you close to him finally.

Simon Ghost Riley

Pretends, It's nothing special, and he definitely hasn't been waiting for a minute, he can at last take you home. Is very calm and collected with medical personnel, but makes sure to thank every single person, who helped you.

Doesn't show any signs of extra care. But when you sit in his car, you feel something unusually soft under your back.

"Sim- Ehm, this looks, like my blanket." "It is. Your favorite one." "You brought my best blanket, just to make me cozy on our way home? That's actually sweet."

Will deny it so hard, but actually he did want to make you feel safe and cozy.

Back at home, he will sit you on a couch, sit on the floor before you and study your features in a dead silence. He needs to know if anything still bothers you, but Ghost can be sure only if he sees the answer in your eyes and in your posture.

Will trace invisible lines on your skin, not daring to lean closer and kiss it. Simon will make sure, you are alright before going any further with his touch.

Nikolai

"Nu privet, tridtzat` tri neshyastia.*" While kneeling down to meet your eye level.

He will not limit himself to a simple “how are you?”. Nikolai must know all the details. Does it hurt when you walk? And when he presses here, doesn’t it hurt? And now? Are you absolutely sure?

Won't listen to you, even if you swear, you already have all the necessary medical prescriptions on hands. He must find your doctor and talk to him personally.

When he is calmed down and convinced, that you are going to be fine - Nikolai finally takes you home.

Makes sure, you're cozy and comfortable on your first night home (ideally in his hands, so that he can wake up any minute and help you if it hurts).

Will try to hide the fact behind a thousand jokes, but he missed you so much. Don't mind him hugging you to sleep and pressing your body against his so strongly, taking in the feeling of you in his hands.

*Nu privet, 33 neshyastia - well hello 33 misfortunes

[mrk236547789]

A servant boy to a rich family has been the Eldest's son's little toy ever since he was hired, he would bring him to his own room for some 'privet cleaning' and he would be up there for hours. After one cleaning the servant becomes pregnant and the son find out and wants to help him, one night he goes into labor but survives until his shift is over. The son drags him to the living room thinking his parents are going upstairs to bed, to their horror the parents come down and they have to hide in the closets. The Son uses his phone as light and they pull down the servants pants to find the heading crowning, The son has to cup his hands over the crowning head to keep it from coming out and his parents finding out in fear that they'll punish both of them. They have to stay like that for another 2 hours until his parents finally leave and go to bed. The whole time the servant is pushing, unable to stop himself and the son has to was him suffer as he hold the head in place to keep it from being born.

In the bustling kitchen of the grand estate, the servant boy, Jasper, scrubbed pots with a brisk rhythm, his thoughts drifting to the quiet solace of his tiny room above the stables. It had been a long day of polishing silverware and dusting chandeliers, and his hands ached with the promise of a blister. The rich aroma of roasting chicken wafted through the air, a stark reminder that his meal would be the cold, leftover scraps from the Eldest son's plate.

The Eldest, Charles, had always treated Jasper with a peculiar mix of entitlement and affection, often inviting him to his private quarters for "special" cleaning duties. Jasper had learned to dread those moments, his stomach tightening as he approached the opulent chamber. But tonight, a strange sensation grew within him, a heaviness that was more than mere exhaustion.

As Jasper finished up the dishes, the kitchen staff had already retreated for the night. He took a deep breath and climbed the stairs, the burgeoning secret in his belly feeling heavier with each step. Upon reaching Charles' room, he found the door ajar, the light within casting a sliver of yellow across the hallway's gleaming floor.

Charles looked up from his desk, his eyes widening in surprise. "Jasper, what are you doing here?" he asked, his voice a mix of concern and curiosity. Jasper swallowed hard, his heart pounding in his chest.

"I... I think it's time," Jasper managed to croak out. "The... the baby."

Charles' expression shifted from confusion to horror as realization dawned. He had noticed Jasper's changing shape over the past few months, but he had hoped the servant would find a way to deal with it without his interference. Now, it was staring him in the face—or rather, about to emerge from between Jasper's trembling legs.

"Ok let’s go to the living room my parents are sleeping now," Charles whispered urgently, his eyes darting to the staircase that led to the family's private quarters. He knew they couldn’t risk his mother and father discovering Jasper in such a compromising state. The living room was a safer bet, with its plush couches and thick curtains that could muffle any sounds of distress.

The journey was an eternity, Jasper's painful steps echoing through the silent corridors as he leaned heavily on Charles for support. The chandeliers cast dramatic shadows on the walls, making the grand paintings seem like silent judges watching their frantic passage. They reached the living room and Jasper collapsed onto the floor, his body trembling with the effort of holding back his cries.

Then they heard Charles parents coming into the living room, their voices muffled but unmistakable. Jasper's eyes widened with panic as he gripped the edge of the couch, his body convulsing with the effort of keeping his baby inside. "Quick, into the closet," Charles hissed, his own heart racing. They stumbled towards the large mahogany wardrobe, the Eldest son's collection of fine coats and tailored suits hanging like a barrier between them and discovery.

Jasper's water broke with a soft gush as they tumbled in, the cold floorboards against his bare skin offering no comfort. Charles fumbled in the dark, his hand brushing against Jasper's distended belly, feeling the baby's head pressing against the world. He cursed under his breath and pulled out his phone, the screen casting a bluish glow over the cramped space. The servant's pants were soaked and he knew they had to act fast.

"We can't stay here," Jasper whispered, his voice strained. "The baby's coming now."

“Wait till hey leave, okay?" Charles pleaded, his voice strained with fear. He knew his parents’ wrath would be severe if they found Jasper like this. With trembling hands, he shone the phone light on Jasper’s exposed hole, the baby’s dark hair peeking out. Jasper nodded, gritting his teeth as another contraction hit.

“Stop pushing," Charles whispered, his voice laced with desperation. "Just hold it in."

Jasper's eyes squeezed shut as he bore down, the pain unlike anything he had ever felt before. The pressure was unbearable, and his body seemed to have a will of its own. Each contraction felt like a monstrous wave trying to drag him under.

“I can’t," Jasper whimpered, his knuckles white as he gripped the edges of the closet. The pain was too intense to ignore.

Charles put his hand on the bay’s head to hold it there the best he could, his heart racing as he felt the warmth of the baby’s skin and the sticky wetness of Jasper’s body. Jasper's cries grew more desperate with each contraction, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The light from the phone cast eerie shadows on their faces, highlighting the sweat that beaded on their foreheads.

Outside the closet, the muffled sounds of Jasper's labor were almost drowned out by the ticking grandfather clock. The plush carpet muffled the occasional thump against the closet door as Jasper's body protested his confinement. They could hear the murmur of his parents' voices, the clink of ice in their drinks as they settled in for a night of leisurely conversation.

Charles rubbed Jasper's back in a clumsy attempt to soothe him, his mind racing with the gravity of the situation. He had to think of something, anything to help Jasper without alerting his parents to their secret. The minutes stretched on, each one feeling like an hour. The tension in the air was palpable, a silent scream trapped in the confines of the closet.

Finally 2 hours later the parents went to bed. Jasper felt the last wave of contraction subside and took a deep, shuddering breath. The relief was momentary as the next wave began to build, and he knew he couldn't wait any longer. With trembling hands, Charles helped Jasper out of the cramped space, his own legs feeling like jelly from the strain of the last two hours.

They moved quickly to the couch, the soft cushions offering a modest reprieve from the cold floor. Jasper lay down, his body already pushing the baby out. "You're doing great," Charles whispered, trying to keep his voice steady as he hovered over Jasper, the phone still casting its pale light. "Just a bit more."

Jasper's face contorted with pain as the baby's head began to emerge. The sight of his son, born in the quiet secrecy of the night, filled Charles with a mix of fear and a strange, protective love. He knew he couldn't let Jasper go through this alone. "You can do this," he murmured, his hand hovering above Jasper's trembling thighs, ready to offer support or comfort where needed.

The baby's cry pierced the quiet of the night, echoing through the cavernous room. Jasper's eyes rolled back in his head, his body trembling with the effort. "It's a boy," Charles said softly, awe in his voice as he caught the tiny, slippery body. He quickly cut the umbilical cord with a piece of string and a knife from his pocket, tying it off with trembling hands.

Jasper collapsed back onto the couch, his breath coming in shallow gasps. The baby squalled, a healthy sound that filled the room with life. "We have to clean up," Charles said, his mind racing. They couldn't leave any evidence of the birth. With swift, efficient movements, he gathered up the dirty towels and the afterbirth, stuffing them into a plastic bag he had brought from his room.

Jasper's eyes met Charles' in the dim light, a silent plea for help. "What do we do now?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"We'll take him to your room," Charles decided, his mind racing with the logistics. "I'll bring some blankets and hot water." He placed the squalling baby in Jasper's arms and rushed out of the room. Jasper held the newborn tightly, his heart swelling with a love that washed away the pain. The baby's tiny fists waved in the air, and Jasper couldn't help but smile through his tears.

When Charles returned, Jasper had managed to sit up, cradling the baby against his chest. His eyes searched Charles' face for some sign of what to do next. "We'll figure this out," Charles assured him, placing a gentle hand on Jasper's shoulder. "But for now, let's get you cleaned up."

They moved quickly and quietly, Charles supporting Jasper as they climbed the stairs to his small room above the stables. The cold night air hit them like a slap as they stepped outside, but the urgency of the situation kept them moving. Jasper's room was sparse, with a single bed and a wooden cradle that had been hastily assembled from a pile of discarded crates. The clean, soft blankets Charles brought were a stark contrast to the rough wooden floor.

The moon cast a silver glow through the small, dusty window, illuminating Jasper's exhausted face as he lay back on the bed, the baby still in his arms. Charles hovered over them, a mix of emotions playing across his features—fear, excitement, and a fierce determination to keep this secret safe. "What do we do now?" Jasper asked again, his voice weaker than before.

"We can't let anyone know," Charles said, his voice low and serious. "We'll say you fell ill and I brought you to your room. We'll have to keep the baby hidden." He glanced at the cradle, knowing it was hardly suitable for a child born into such a precarious situation. "We need to think of a plan, Jasper. One that keeps you both safe."

[hptheboywholived]

Potter Family Tree

[dream-with-a-fever]

but i’m a fire and i’ll keep your brittle heart warm (snippet)

by dream-with-a-fever (me) / societysgot (ao3)

harry/ginny, oneshot, canon compliant, missing moments during OotP

“So, I take it that cave in the mountains outside Hogsmeade wouldn’t work as a meeting place with Sirius?” She said, bringing them back to their conversation in the library.

Harry shook his head. “Definitely not — how did you know about that?”

“I’m really into mountain hiking,” She replied, without missing a beat.

Harry gave her a quizzical look before her face broke out into a smile, and she laughed.

“I’m joking - I've never done it,” She said, with a snort, “Hermione mentioned doing it with her family once — no, Sirius told me about it over the summer, back at Grimmauld place.”

“You and Sirius talked?”

For some reason he hadn’t even considered the fact that the Weasleys had been staying there for several weeks before Harry’s arrival. Jealousy bubbled in him momentarily, at the thought of them all spending their summer together, while he was stuck in privet drive. They had probably shared meals, swapped stories, made jokes. He vaguely remembered the youngest Weasley holding court up one end of the table on a particular evening, chatting animatedly with Remus, Tonks and Sirius. She had almost seemed like one of the crew. He just hadn't given it much thought until now.

She gave him a quizzical look, and he realised he must’ve been silent for a beat too long.

“Yeah, is that… alright with you?”

He forced out a laugh. “Yeah- erm, of course. I just didn’t think — I don’t know.”

“Well, he’s cool. Got a great muggle music collection. You’d probably know some of ‘em? There’s one band — super good called The Beatle and—”

“The Beatles.”

“What?”

Harry suppressed a smile. “Never mind.”

“They're really good. But, he mainly talks about you, you know,” She said, after a beat, “Raves about you actually.”

Harry sighed, like this was a real inconvenience.

"Oh, I am sorry," said Harry, fighting back a grin.

"I told him, I said Sirius, I haven't got all day - but the man's relentless. Wanted to know everything."

“That must’ve been terribly boring.”

“Very," She hummed, noncommittally. "You know, Harry Potter — famously boring.”

“Glad you agree.”

“Well, we can’t have everyone inflating your ego now, can we?”

Harry spluttered for a moment, before she continued.

“Not that a bit more arrogance on your part would be bad. You could be a lot worse. Look at Percy.”

“Thanks, Ginny.”

“Very welcome,” She said, breezily before clapping her hands together, “Anyway — if the cave isn’t an option, and all the fires are being guarded…”

“Well…not all of them,” Harry said, a look of realisation crossing his face.

When he looked up she was grinning widely at him, eyebrows raised. It was then that he looked around, and realised they were outside the Gryffindor common room — the trek from the library was like muscle memory to him now, and still their arrival had come as a shock to him.

The fat lady was chatting animatedly with her friend Violet from another portrait when they approached; both shrieking with laughter like a couple of hyenas, passing a bottle back and forth of some kind of mead that most certainly was not from the fat lady’s portrait. They were completely obvious to the two students stood outside.

“I’m sorry for interrupting your study session,” Ginny suddenly said, scrunching up her nose, looking rather guilty, “I know you need all the time you can get, you know, with the OWLs coming up so soon.”

His eyebrows furrowed. “Have a lot of faith in my academic ability then, do you?”

She choked out a laugh, whipping her auburn hair out of her eyes. “Not what I meant and you know it. Though if you hanging around Ron every minute of every day is any indication of your intelligence…”

“Pretty sure you spend more time with him than me,” Harry replied, looking aghast.

“Yeah — because he’s my brother - I'm stuck with him, aren't I? But you voluntarily spend every waking moment with him. I mean, think of all the brain cells you must have lost already…”

“See, that’s—”

“But there’s still time to save yourself from ruin, I reckon. Just gotta get back to the books.”

“Well, that’ll be hard, seeing as you got me banned from going back into the library ever again…”

She elbowed him hard in the side, and Harry looked up, surprised at the contact. But Ginny seemed unfazed - like this was nothing out of the ordinary.

“I think I’ll take that chocolate egg back then,” She demanded, flicking a curtain of red hair behind her.

Harry scoffed. “Pretty sure you already ate most of it—”

And that earned him his second jab in the ribs. He glanced down at his feet, suppressing a grin.

Their slight cofuffle had caught the attention of the fat lady who now, having finally noticed their presence, began to complain at their frankly insulting dawdling (‘I don’t have all day, you two!’)

They parted ways in the common room; Crookshanks trotting over to the youngest Weasley the second she had stepped through the door; Harry making his way up to the boys’ dormitories.

He fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

(Unbeknownst to Harry, it was the best sleep he had had in weeks.)

[colossalcriminal]

Housekeeping

Pairing: Harry Potter x Fem!Reader

Summary: When Harry gets a part-time gig cleaning the house down the street to escape the Dursleys for a few hours a week during the summer, he soon recognises the residents’ daughter as his own schoolmate.

Content Warnings: None, really? Not proofread. There’s no specific time this takes place, you could say it’s the summer after fifth year. Reader is also a Ravenclaw but it doesn’t have too much of an impact. Mentions of a functional family.

“There you go, Harry. Don’t worry about the downstairs, today. Just some light dusting upstairs and wiping the windows.”

Harry nodded, smiling down at the many shiny coins that lay in his hand.

He got to work, somewhat disappointed that there wasn’t much to do today. He wondered if there really was more, but the L/Ns were too nice to ask. Dusting along several shelves that lined the wall of the upstairs hallway, he made his way to the first room. 

It’d been his first time in this one. The door, for the first time ever, was slightly ajar, a stark difference from its usual shut position. It wasn’t too clean, the trunk open and closet half empty, not yet finished with unpacking for the summer holiday. Books and trinkets were scattered about the table, bed haphazardly made. The walls were painted a pretty shade of cream, almost completely covered with posters of musicians such as Celestina Warbeck and Lorcan d’Eath, he was surprised to see them accompanied by several Ravenclaw banners and a blue and bronze tie hanging from the bedpost.

He had an inkling that the L/N family knew of magic and wizards, but for their child to attend Hogwarts? Harry did as he was paid to do, wiping the windows. Dusting the shelves, he was oddly determined to find out who lived in this bedroom.

A Ravenclaw.

Judging by the clothing style and size, which he knew very little about, she couldn’t be much younger than him. 

The boy refused to snoop through the stack of letters on her bedside table, only one name catching his eye. Dean Thomas.

Were they friends? He hadn’t noticed Dean with a girl, but lately, he hadn’t noticed much at all. Were they dating? “Who are you?” Harry murmured, sighing as he went to look at the framed moving photographs.

With narrowed eyes, the name he’d been searching for had uncovered itself in his brain. “Y/N L/N.”

△⃒⃘

It was warmer than it was a few days ago when he was wiping windows and dusting shelves, Harry walked down the street, knocking on the door of number 8 Privet Drive.

Would she be home?

The door swung open several minutes later, but it wasn’t to address him. Perhaps his knock was too quiet, too nervous, to be heard. “I’ll be back late, tonight!”

“No, Y/N! Not a single minute after twelve!”

“Let's make it twelve-thirty!” She shut the door before her parents could retaliate, eyes widening slightly at the sight of him. “Oh, I think you’re cleaning the kitchen today.” Y/N told him before scurrying off, readjusting the purse strap on her shoulder.

His eyes trailed after her as she walked away. Summer was most definitely here, one could tell from her skirt and vest, along with the sunglasses that covered what he remembered to be very pretty eyes.

Shaking his head, Harry scolded himself for looking too long, getting one last glimpse of her wonderfully styled hair before entering the house.

He’d seen her, she’d spoken a total of eight words to him.

△⃒⃘

Thursday came, the second and last day of the week he had to clean, Harry would have to wait four more days to return on Monday to find any sort of reprieve from the Dursleys.

He insisted on wiping the countertops slower, ensuring maximum shine, scrubbing with utmost precision while Mr. L/N sipped on tea in the living room and Mrs. L/N judged the flower arrangement on the dining table.

The front door shut, and no one flinched. “I’m home!”

She placed her bag onto the table her mother was sitting at. “Hair up please, darling, Harry’s just cleaned the floor.”

Y/N huffed slightly before bunching her hair up into a clip, plopping down onto the sofa next to her father. “Hi, dad.”

Her father’s eyes remained on the newspaper. “Hello, you.”

“I’m hungry.”

“Hi, hungry. I’m dad.” She pouted at the awful joke. “You should’ve eaten while you were at the burrow.”

“I wasn’t hungry at the time.”

Harry kept to himself, brows furrowed. The burrow? He’d never seen her there, it must’ve been a remarkable coincidence that their lives overlapped so heavily, yet they have yet to speak more than ten words to each other. 

“Go make a sandwich then.”

“I’m lazy.”

She retreated to her bedroom after a light chat with her mum, and soon he was due back at number 4.

△⃒⃘

“Why don’t you stay for dinner, Harry?”

“What?” Y/N almost dropped the plate she held while setting the table.

“What?” Harry’s face was one of surprise. The two spoke simultaneously. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to intrude, Mrs. L/N.”

The older woman waved him off, supplying her daughter with a fourth plate. “Nonsense, we would love to have you.”

And so the quartet sat for dinner, the teenage girl beside her father, the boy beside her mother. “This is really nice, Mrs. L/N.”

“Thank you, dear.” A short pause. “Are you and Y/N good friends in school?”

The pair weren’t sure of what to say. “We don’t talk much, mum. Different houses and that.”

“Speaking of houses, that final game for the Quidditch cup!” Mr. L/N began, eliciting a sigh from Y/N. “Absolutely ridiculous! I always tell Y/N, just because you score the first few points, doesn’t mean you calm your attack, don’t you think so, Harry?”

“I can’t say much, sir, but I know that Y/N is a great player.”

“Not great enough for Ravenclaw to beat you.” She murmured, slightly annoyed. “We would’ve won that match if Davies hadn’t substituted Chambers for Bradley.”

Harry smiled. “I have no doubt. Fair game, though?”

With hesitance, she nodded. “Fair game.”

He took notice of her face, the lipgloss she wore and the darkness of her eyelashes, a blush creeping up his neck.

As dinner soon came to a conclusion, Y/N was tasked with the light burden of walking him to the door. “See you Thursday.” She dropped the coins into his hand, their fingers brushing against each other, but only he took notice of the warmth radiating between them.

Had he been hallucinating?

△⃒⃘

“Mum and dad are out, come in.”

He nodded meekly, the confidence he’d built up since Monday dissipated. “You’re working on downstairs, today. The floors.” It was his first time seeing her at home, comfortable. Not leaving, or just returning.

But the thought of it reminded him of a particularly embarrassing day.

The upstairs flooring was completely carpeted, easier to clean than downstairs as all he had to do was a quick vacuum.

He pushed the machine along, running it over every imperfection he could spot, until he found himself before a certain door that was now shut, like always.

Harry contemplated. Her bedroom counted as upstairs, right?

The boy was itching to refresh his memory of her room, dying to know if her decor had remained the same, despite it being just a little over a week since he’d last seen it.

With an odd spur of confidence, he wrapped his hand around the old knob, twisting it and opening the door with a quiet click.

He didn’t expect her to actually be home, and he wasn’t surprised she hadn’t noticed her door open just about three inches, a bespectacled eye peeking through. It was much too loud to hear the opening of the door, with the noise of the vacuum and the melody of Celestina Warbeck’s debut album playing at a considerably loud volume.

She laid on her stomach, bed lazily made underneath her, her cheek resting on her palm, the other hand holding an arithmancy textbook.

Her legs occasionally swung back and forth in the air. Y/N was clad in just a pair of pajama shorts and a vest to combat the summer heat they weren’t used to in London, or Hogwarts. 

Harry’s breath hitched into his throat, all of his willpower being used to ensure he was not to choke and break out into a coughing fit at the sight of her chest pushed up due to her positioning. After all, he was a teenage boy.

With a gulp, he quietly shut the door, shaking his head at no one but himself.

She didn’t instantly run upstairs, instead, she returned to her seat at the dining table, picking up her quill and continuing her scribble. 

Y/N’s system was neat, efficient. Several relevant textbooks were scattered around her, each open to a different section. Multiple past essays she’d written, and scored especially high on, displayed for her to copy any impressive vocabulary. The television was on, but she didn’t seem to be distracted, instead, she hummed along to the tune of whatever Weird Sisters song was playing, continuing to write.

Grabbing the broom, he began his duties.

Minutes passed, downstairs was a lot of ground to cover.

He worked around her. “Would you like anything to eat?”

Harry’s head snapped up to find her already looking at him with a sheepish smile. “Sorry? Erm, no. Thank you, though.” She nodded, unsure of how to feel after what felt like his rejection. “Do you like music?”

The girl chuckled at his question. “I do, a lot. You?”

“I don’t listen to it much.”

“You should come over more often, then. I have a massive collection of records upstairs, we could listen together, find out what’s to your taste.”

He only nodded with a small smile, internally giddy a the thought of this being their first conversation, instigated by no one but them. His heart nearly burst at the thought of being in her room, a record turning while they chatted about whatever. “Do you go to the burrow a lot?”

“Only sometimes, to see Fred and George. I’ve never seen you there, do you go often?”

“Sometimes, yeah.”

“Must be a coincidence, we keep missing each other.”

In his effort to get the mop out and ready for use, his shoulder jerked, hitting the shelf next to him.

Multiple books had come off at the impact, falling onto the floor and landing with a harsh thud. “Here, let me help.” Harry didn’t hear her, and he didn’t notice the speed at which she’d walked around the dining table and to the shelf, too soaked up in his nervousness and silently scolding himself.

Y/N crouched down, collecting the fallen books into a pile. “Thank you, I’m sorry for the mess.” He forced out.

She let out a giggle, then another, and then a proper laugh. He only stared at her in utter bewilderment, wondering whether he was a joke, or she was a madwoman. “Sorry,” She calmed down, a few chuckles still coming between her words. “you’re just so oddly charming.”

The Ravenclaw took notice of his expression, an adorable mixture of worrisome, flushed and somewhat flattered. “It’s a good thing. You’re cute.”

“Cute?”

She shuffled closer to him to reach for the stack of books he’d picked up, the pair of them now fully sat on the cold floor. “Yes, Potter. Cute.”

He turned his head to face her, they were now aware of their proximity, the closeness. The lack of space between them. His brows furrowed nonetheless, his mouth forming a pout. “Cute? Really?”

“Would you prefer another adjective? Adorable?” Her face moved toward his, a bashful smile playing on her lips. “Harry?”

“Yes?” The call of his name didn’t aid him in snapping out of his trance, he was hypnotized by the colour of her eyes, the strawberry scent of her moisturizer filling his nostrils. “Can I kiss you?”

With her nod, their lips joined, his hand travelling to cup her cheek.

The front door shut, with a brief announcement from her parents, declaring their return. “Better get to work.” Y/N whispered, patting his chest twice before returning back to her study station.