#ravenclaw boy propaganda

[bouwrites]

Show Your Fangs: Chapter 15

Sink In

First, Previous.

Ao3.

Story under read-more.

Harry awakens with a warm hand in his and a splitting headache made worse by Madam Bones a bed to his right barking orders at her aurors.

He opens his eyes, blinking against the harsh light exacerbating his splitting skull. He locks eyes just for a moment with Madam Bones. She softens all at once, smiles at him relieved and friendly and kind, and then green healer’s robes block his view.

“Harry! How’re you feeling?”

Harry vaguely registers the healer asking the same, but he looks at Michael when he answers, “Headache…”

A vial is pressed to his free hand. “Drink this,” says the healer. “It should help.”

Michael helps him lift the potion to his lips, but when he downs it, he does feel better. The splitting pain flows out of him, his head clears, and his hand steadies.

“What happened?” Harry asks Michael. “How long was I out?”

“Just overnight.” Michael smiles. His thumb gently strokes the back of Harry’s hand. “Don’t know how much you remember… after Voldemort tried to possess you, you stayed up with me until the healers said you needed to rest. You conked out right on the spot. You must’ve been exhausted.”

Right… it’s starting to come back. Everything after he meets eyes with Voldemort is kind of fuzzy, but it’s coming together. Michael tells him last night that everyone is okay, but… “The prophecy?”

“We weren’t allowed to take it out of the Ministry,” Michael answers with a roll of his eyes. “But since you’d signed the forms for us to hear it, Madam Bones was able to listen to it before they put it back in the Department of Mysteries. She said she’ll tell us all when you’re ready. Or, we can go back in. But You-Know-Who didn’t get it.”

“Madam Bones telling us will be fine,” says Harry. He doesn’t want to go back into the Ministry anytime soon. He knows he’ll have to to take his O.W.L.s soon enough, but he sees no reason to subject himself to that any more than necessary.

And he trusts Madam Bones.

“I can’t believe you looked Lord Voldemort in the eyes and declared a game of keepy uppy,” Harry says as he continues to process everything that happens last night. “What’s wrong with you?”

Michael laughs helplessly. “I panicked, okay? Sure, it wasn’t my best moment, but it worked, didn’t it? Mr. Theseus knew exactly what I meant!”

Harry giggles so hard his head starts hurting again. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Oh, come on,” Michael protests, though he’s laughing too. “That wasn’t even the most absurd thing to happen last night. I mean, Mr. Theseus hulking out and giving You-Know-Who a muggle beatdown? Highlight of my life, honestly.”

“You played keepy uppy with the Dark Lord and you still won’t even say his name?”

Michael coughs and blushes. “It’s habit. Sorry. Although you have a point. Weirdly enough, despite him totally winning that fight and all and definitely trying to kill us… seeing Mr. Theseus punch him in the face really makes him a lot less scary.”

“God,” gasps Harry, “that should be today’s headline. ‘Theseus Scamander Punches He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named In His Great Ugly Mug.’ …Speaking of, what is the Prophet saying about it all?”

“They haven’t given any details, yet. Everyone knows it was- Voldemort, but really the only substance on the report is that Fudge is going to make a statement about it today. I expect tomorrow’s edition to have more information.”

“Oh,” says Harry. “Good. Can we be not here when that happens?”

Michael smiles sympathetically. “Dunno. I’m stuck either way for a couple weeks before the internship, but you can leave as soon as the healers clear you and Mr. Theseus. Assuming there’s no complication with you from the possession, it shouldn’t take long. Mr. Theseus is still sleeping, but his leg is already healing, and he wasn’t really hurt otherwise. Madam Bones was worst off, but as you can see,” he nods to where Madam Bones is threatening a cowering auror with something students probably shouldn’t be hearing, “she’s raring to go.”

Susan, a wicked glint in her eyes glancing back at the scene her aunt is causing with the people (presumably from her department in the Ministry) running in and out of the wing they’re resting in, comes over to Harry and Michael’s side. “She’s just grumpy because she’s not allowed back in the office,” Susan giggles. “With all the Death Eaters to process through the courts and arranging their delivery to Azkaban and all that, she’s busier than ever but the healers tell her she has to stay put at least for today. I reckon she’s going to push herself too hard and be stuck here for tomorrow, too, before the healers get sick of fighting her and just let her go. But she’s fine. If she wasn’t, she wouldn’t be so impatient.”

“How’re you feeling, Harry?” asks Terry, who pops up over Michael’s shoulder. He comes over from Theseus’ bed when he sees Harry awake.

Harry can’t honestly answer that he’s feeling totally fine, but, “Not bad. Well enough to get out of here.”

Terry snorts. “Well, fortunately, you’re not the one making that decision.”

It occurs to Harry just then, with memories of all his times in the Hogwarts Hospital Wing filling his head, that some people who would normally be here are missing. Having Susan, and Michael, and Terry with him, and Anthony is here too by Theseus’ bed, is welcome, but, “Where are Ron and Hermione?”

“Oh!” Michael chuckles. “It’s too early for visiting hours. We actually spent the night here as well. For observation, they said. But we’re more or less unharmed so there’s no need for us to be confined to bed.”

“More or less?” Harry repeats, alarmed.

“Bumps and scratches.” Michael shrugs. “Anthony was jinxed – took it for Terry – but it was just a small thing and easily fixed within the first hour we were here. We’re all okay, Harry.”

With Michael’s reassurance, Harry slowly relaxes again.

“So…” says Susan. “Did you want to hear the prophecy now, or after your other friends get here?”

Maybe Harry should wait for Ron and Hermione, but the original plan is to go without them, anyway. Harry only goes to the Ministry to hear the thing because Dumbledore still doesn’t trust him to handle hearing it. And though they have his back when he meets Dumbledore at Grimmauld…

Part of Harry just isn’t ready to forgive them. If they trust Dumbledore’s judgement on what’s safe and not so much, then they can wait to hear the prophecy until Dumbledore thinks they’re ready.

If nothing else, Harry can decide to tell them about it when they get here.

“Now,” he answers. He looks over to Madam Bones looking just about ready to beat an auror over the head with the clipboard in her hands and balks. “Whenever your aunt is ready.”

Susan looks, over, laughs, and saunters back to her aunt’s bed to whisper in her ear.

Madam Bones nods, barks at the aurors to get out, then calls Harry over. “I’m under strict orders not to get out of this bed,” Madam Bones grouses as Harry attempts to stand. “Unfortunately, I have to set a good example to the cadets, so I can’t just tell the healers where to stick their precautions…”

Harry chuckles. His feet support him. His head swims, just a little, but Michael with his arm around Harry keeps him steady over the short distance to Madam Bones’ bed. She flicks her wand, casting a spell so that no one will overhear them.

“So, are you sure you’re ready to hear this prophecy?” she asks.

Dumbledore will say no, but that’s exactly why Harry insists, “I am. It’s about me, I deserve to know.”

Madam Bones nods sharply. “I quite agree with you, Mr. Potter. And know that I am with you. I’ll support you through this damn thing, as I’m sure my niece will as well no matter my protests.”

Susan sends Harry a clever wink.

“The prophecy says: The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies… and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not… and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives… the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…”

Harry and company take a moment to let it soak in. Brows furrow and surreptitious glances are cast.

Then, Harry roars, “That’s it?”

Michael snorts. Madam Bones just drily examines him. “Expecting something different?” she asks.

Harry is fuming. “Dumbledore made such a big deal about it! He acted like it’s this great weapon, that if Voldemort hears it, he’ll know exactly how to kill me and win his stupid war! What part of that gives Voldemort any advantage? At all? What part gives us any advantage? It only says what we all already know! That Voldemort won’t ever leave me alone, so I’m going to have to kill him somehow or die trying.”

He tugs at his hair in frustration. “Maybe if Voldemort had heard it from the start, he’d have been more cautious about attacking me as a baby? It would’ve been wiser to wait and see, considering Neville also could’ve been the baby in the prophecy until Voldemort marked me… but there’s nothing he can do about it now. Why did we go through all that to keep it from Voldemort when it gives him nothing? Why does Dumbledo-” Harry’s breath wells up and clogs his throat. He chokes over the thought. “Why did Dumbledore keep it from me?”

“Maybe Dumbledore didn’t know?” Susan offers. “Only that there is a prophecy and that it might give You-Know-Who something?”

“No,” Terry shakes his head immediately. “Remember the label? The prophecy was initially delivered to A.P.W.B.D. Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. He knew the whole thing from the start.”

Michael holds Harry’s hand tightly, allowing Harry to squeeze for all he’s worth without complaint. Still, he snickers. “That’s really Dumbledore’s full name?”

Terry mutters back, “Read a book, Michael.”

Madam Bones watches them all stoically until an opening appears when she asks, “Potter. …Harry. Tell me now and tell me honestly… do you want to fight? You-Know-Who is back, and there will be war. You are fated to defeat him, but do not consider that for now. Do you intend to fight in the coming battles?”

Well, those are two different questions. Harry sees where she’s going with it, though, so he answers the intent. “Yes,” he says. “I’m not just going to sit back and be hunted down while everyone else is risking their lives against Voldemort.”

Madam Bones closes her eyes and dips her head. She hums lightly, not quite approval but not disapproving, either. “Very well. In that case, we will be working very closely together for the foreseeable future.”

Susan beams at her aunt’s decision. Harry blinks, still confused. “Wha-?”

“I sincerely apologize,” says Madam Bones. “A child should not feel the need to fight someone like this. It is our duty as adults, and my job as head of the DMLE, to fight that battle for you. But owing to your role in the prophecy, and according to the Reasonable Concessions for Fated Actions Act of 1855, I would rather have you with me, trained and with a team of people willing to help you, than going rogue on your own or left defenseless as Voldemort himself pursues you.”

Harry stares. “You mean…”

“Yes. Like I said, I will support you through this. And nowhere in the prophecy does it say that you have to defeat the Dark Lord alone. You will have the full might of the DMLE with you.” She hums. “You are staying this summer in America, yes? With the Scamanders?”

“Y-yes, ma’am.”

“Good. Theseus can begin your training. His sister-in-law, Porpetina Scamander would also be a good resource for you. She was an auror in America in her day, and will have insights and tactics not common here in Britain.” Her eyes cast out to Michael, Terry, and Anthony. “They can also oversee the training of any of your friends there who are determined to fight by your side. Once you return to Hogwarts, I will organize for you to undergo basic training outside of your lessons. Or perhaps I’ll simply get you excused from Defense Against the Dark Arts and replace it… I’ll negotiate it with Dumbledore and the Governors.

“This does not mean that you must become an auror, naturally, nor does it mean that you will be fast tracked to a badge should you decide to become one in the future, but if you are going to be fighting in the coming war, I will see you properly prepared for it.” Her stern eyes fix him in place. “I trust you have no objection?”

“N-no ma’am.” Actually, that sounds wonderful. Harry can be sure at least that Madam Bones isn’t going to coddle him. She won’t treat him like a child after he faces down Voldemort and survives… what, four times, now? She treats him from the start, from even before they hear this prophecy, like someone who understands the cost of fighting. A teenager, yes, someone to protect rather than someone to order to do the protecting like she tells Theseus to do, but not innocent or naive.

Dumbledore has so many opportunities to prepare Harry for what’s coming and he takes none of them. Amelia Bones learns that she can’t keep Harry out of the war and promises him every tool she has at her disposal to help him survive it. That’s the difference. That’s why Harry doesn’t hesitate even a moment to agree.

That’s why he trusts her.

Proving why no one should ever call him a coward, however, Terry steps up between Harry and Madam Bones. “I have an objection,” he says firmly.

Madam Bones raises her brow. “Speak, Mr. Boot.”

Michael looks at Terry like he’s mad, and Susan frowns gently, but Terry only raises his chin and maintains his steady glare. “I do mean no offence,” he starts diplomatically, “but do you honestly expect us to trust the Ministry? Your organization couldn’t be more corrupt if you tried. The Minister himself has proven himself willing to slander, endanger, and outright attack school children as young as eleven. Your Ministry attempted to murder Harry personally, at his home. Why should Harry ever cooperate with you in any capacity?”

Harry watches as Michael and Susan’s faces both go from incredulous to, “Well, actually, yeah, he’s got a point,” and Harry knows he has exactly the same expression on his own face.

Because… well, actually, yeah, he’s got a point. Harry likes and is willing to trust Madam Bones, but the department behind her… that’s a different story.

But as eyes turn to her, even her own niece’s, Madam Bones merely hums once, sharply, and answers, “I am in no way trying to entrap Mr. Potter. If he has any objections at any point, he can bring them up with me or withdraw entirely. I admit, you would all be great fools to trust the Ministry at this point, but I am only asking you to trust me. Again, you are not joining the auror force, and you are not becoming a part of the Ministry. I am merely offering the resources I have at my disposal. They can be used at your good judgement.”

Terry stands tall, bristled up with his hard stare for a moment longer, then he allows the tension to bleed away. He slumps, drops his eyes to the floor, then slides his gaze around back to Harry. “What do you think?”

“I trust Madam Bones,” Harry says. That part is easy. “I’m not sure about anyone else, but I trust her. And I do need help if I’m going to survive Voldemort.”

Terry holds his gaze for a moment, searching for something within Harry’s answer. Then, he nods and steps aside. “Alright. I’m with you.”

“Very good.” Madam Bones nods. “I expect regular updates, and we will remain in constant communication to organize everything. Do not ever hesitate to contact me, for any reason.” Her countenance softens considerably, then, and Harry thinks he sees more of the mother that Susan must know than the Director of the DMLE. “We will get you through this, Harry. I promise.”

-----

Seeing as the thing is practically worthless, Harry does share the prophecy with Ron and Hermione when they ask, and he tells them about Madam Bones’ plan as well. They immediately volunteer to join training with him, promising to fight by his side through it all.

What takes Harry by surprise, however, is that when Dumbledore comes to talk to him, he is more relieved than anything. Even when Harry shouts at him about the prophecy and keeping secrets, Dumbledore nods and accepts it and even admits that he is wrong to hide it from Harry. He apologizes.

And most of Harry’s fight kind of leaves him, then. He tells Dumbledore that he doesn’t know how much he can trust him, and that he thinks that while he knows that Dumbledore wants the best for him, and he’s going to fight alongside him, Harry is, for now, firmly on Amelia Bones’ side of it all, not the Order of the Phoenix’.

He is asked how much he trusts the DMLE and he laughs in Dumbledore’s face. Terry already covers this. But Harry does trust Amelia Bones, and that counts for a whole lot. It’s not like Harry can trust Dumbledore or his Order any more than the Ministry, anyway. They all, even the Ministry (broadly speaking, not on an individual level, which is his whole point), want to defeat Voldemort. Harry trusts that. He doesn’t trust anything else.

Once all the confrontations are over, everyone is up and all of the children are cleared to leave so the plan is to head back to Hogwarts where Harry will reside temporarily until Theseus is let go (probably tomorrow) and help the others pack up for summer.

But at the moment, it’s Harry and Michael huddled on a bed together, with Michael’s hand in his hair as they wait for their escort to the castle.

“Hey, Michael…?” says Harry. “What are you telling people about Tiger?”

Michael hums quietly as he gently rakes his nails along Harry’s scalp. It tingles. In a good way. “You said I could tell Mom and Dad the truth. Everyone at school… they think you’re back home with Rosie. Why?”

Harry’s cheeks blaze. “Because-” he admits haltingly, “I like being Tiger. I, er, don’t really know how I would make that work, but… I still want to be Tiger.”

There’s quiet. The silence stretches.

“Don’t judge me.”

Michael starts. “Sorry, I wasn’t- I was thinking of how we could pull that off, actually. I wasn’t…” He clears his throat, ignoring his own pink cheeks. “I’m glad you said that. I’d miss Tiger, too. Like… even though I love being with you like this… I feel like I’d be missing part of you, you know? There’s a side to you that comes out a lot more when you’re a cat. And besides that, I never want you to feel like you can’t be everything that you are. You’re an animagus, and even if you can’t show that off to people, I want you to be comfortable with it with me. I’ll never judge you for being a cat sometimes. Or wanting to be a cat.”

Harry slackens, falling limp. “You know a bit about my relatives,” he murmurs. “It’s safe there, but… there’s no love. Not for me. They don’t care about me. When I ran away, and I got picked up by the Magical Menagerie… It’s going to sound stupid, but I’ve never been… takencareof, like that. No name, no fame, no reason, even when I acted out and caused trouble.

“I was actually tempted for a bit to just be a pet. Figured if I went all in with it, I could get away with it. Peter Pettigrew did for twelve years, and he was only caught because Sirius knew about him being an animagus.”

“It’s not stupid.” Michael’s arm surrounds him, pulls him in tight. “I can’t imagine, but… I love you just the same as a cat or as a human. You’re you, either way. I’m happy to take care of you, either way.”

Harry hums. He knows that’s true, but… “I think it’s easier for me to accept when I’m a cat,” he admits. “I got to work on that.”

“I’ll help,” says Michael. “Exposure therapy. If I love you long enough, you’ll accept it eventually.”

Harry snorts. Michael sticks out his tongue teasingly.

“But it is also just… part of me,” says Harry. “I like being a cat, and not only for unhealthy reasons. It’s fun, and I like how it feels to- to cuddle with you, and how you pet me…” He chuckles awkwardly and is quick to add, “And I don’t have to walk anywhere if I don’t want to. I can just make someone carry me. The Hogwarts staircases are a thing of the past.” He sighs dreamily, exaggeratedly for his joke.

Michael giggles along. “Do I have to worry about you getting fat?” He hums, runs his hands temptingly along Harry’s abdomen. “That’s alright. You’ll look good with a little more fat on your bones. You’re too skinny, anyway.”

Yeah, thank his relatives for that. But since he’ll be spending the summer with the Scamanders this year, he won’t have the usual yearly setback in his diet. …Not that he has any idea how cat food factors into a healthy diet for him, but he supposes he’ll figure that out later. If it’s healthy for cats, it’s probably healthy enough for him while he is one. The complication comes upon changing back and forth.

He should probably ask about that, actually, once he’s in America. One of the Scamanders is sure to know, or be able to find out, the dietary specifications of an animagus.

“…You know… I get it, now.”

Harry hums a question.

Michael sighs. “I was so… bitter. About Ginny, I mean. I’m not anymore. I know why she did what she did. It was hard on her, too, all the secrets to keep me safe. That’s why she broke up with me. I was so angry about how she was treating me that I didn’t realize she was struggling, too.

“Ron and Hermione, as well. They’re in the same boat. I never understood why you kept standing by them, kept putting your trust in them, when they treated you like they did over the summer. I guess I was projecting my feelings about Ginny onto you, too. But…”

Michael hums thoughtfully. “What happened in the Ministry… that’s not something you just turn your back on. I get that, now. You went through so many things with Ron and Hermione and I didn’t realize just what that does to you. Like… Susan. Before this, she was, what? An acquaintance at best? Skirting the line of a friend? But now, after she saved my life from Death Eaters? That woman is my best friend in the world and I’m not letting her go for anything. Even if she does terrify me.”

Harry chuckles. “Yeah. In first year, Ron and I weren’t really friends with Hermione. In fact, it was Ron that insulted her and made her cry and miss the Halloween Feast. But then we went to warn her about the troll, and it turned out the troll was there, and we fought it together, and we’ve just been inseparable ever since.”

He idly plays with Michael’s sleeve. “I was worried at first about bringing them and you guys together, but… after what happened in the Ministry… I know Ron and Hermione will accept you guys, no question. You defended me, you fought with me, and that means- a lot- to us. I’m pretty sure they already think of you guys as part of the group now.”

“And all I had to do was risk my life. You’ve such a welcoming club, Harry.”

“Pfft. Shut up. You brought it up.”

Michael grins impishly, but it quickly fades. “Nah, for real, I get it. They’re protective of you. Even if they make some errors in judgement, like listening to Dumbledore last summer, they’re still trying to look out for you. You got to respect that much. I understand now why you still trust them despite everything. I’ve started to trust them, despite everything. Anyone who goes through that kind of Gryffindor nonsense with you can’t be all bad.”

“True, but that was not my fault. I went through the official channels and everything! It’s not like I broke into the Ministry to do something stupid like steal the prophecy before Voldemort could or something.”

“I didn’t say it was your fault,” Michael chuckles. “I’m just saying it’s Grade A Gryffindor Brand Nonsense. Honestly, we go to the Ministry of Magic and get wrapped up in a full-scale attack by Death Eaters! That doesn’t happen in Ravenclaw!”

“More than half the people there were Ravenclaw, you know. And technically I’m not even a Gryffindor, so there actually weren’t any Gryffindors present.”

“Hehe, whatever makes you feel better, dear heart.”

“Don’t get cute with me just because you’re wrong.”

“I’m always cute, though?”

Harry very maturely sticks out his tongue. Michael ruffles his hair. “Was it ever confirmed if you’ll be resorted? Did they go over that in your readmittance meeting?”

“I don’t have to be,” Harry says. “Since I’m on record as being a Gryffindor I can just rejoin the house when I come back. Technically, I should be resorted, but I can be placed if I choose it.” He shrugs. “I think I’ll just stick with Gryffindor. It’d be interesting to do the sorting again, but I just don’t want that kind of attention.”

“But then that means you’re not in Ravenclaw with me…” Michael whines. “What about sleeping together?”

Harry grins mischievously. “What do you mean? No one would keep Tiger out of your dormitory.”

Michael’s pout quickly turns into a beaming smile. He laughs and plants a kiss on Harry’s cheek. “You’re so right. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

-----

“So, where are Stephen and Kevin?”

“Out,” answers Terry. “This is an odd time to pack.”

Harry grunts. It is that. Technically there are still a few more days of term left. The Hogwarts Express won’t be bringing everyone back to King’s Cross until Thursday, and even the early packers won’t be doing so in the middle of a nice day like this. They’ll be enjoying the last of their time with their friends before summer.

Harry wanders to Terry’s desk as the three Ravenclaw boys gather up their trunks to begin organizing. He snatches up some Transfiguration notes and hums, examining them, then folds it up and slips it in his pocket.

“You can ask to borrow my notes, you know.”

Harry sends him a grin and a wink. “I know, but that’s not half as fun.”

Terry rolls his eyes. “Kleptomania is the worst habit you picked up by being a cat.”

“I disagree,” says Michael before Harry can protest. “The worst habit is that he’s distracted by little lights.”

Harry squawks. “I am not!”

“Vermillious.”

Harry’s eyes track the red sparks that shoot from Michael’s wand and- yeah, okay, they’re distracting. He draws his own wand. “Finite- That means nothing.”

“It’s cute, though,” says Michael.

The boys snicker at him, which makes him pout. “Anthony, your friends are bullying me.”

“Don’t be mean,” says Anthony, eyes never leaving his own packing.

Harry puffs up triumphantly. “Ha!”

“Besides,” says Anthony, “his worst habit is easily knocking things off of tables for no reason.”

Harry scrunches up his nose as the boys laugh. “I have only ever done that on purpose.”

“Yeah, that’s not a good defense, mate,” giggles Terry.

“Still, it’s not habit if it’s deliberate every time.”

Anthony rolls his eyes. “Touché.”

Letting the chuckle fade, Michael holds up one of his winter cloaks. “Hey, Anthony, is it cold in America?”

Anthony hums a noncommittal sort of noise. “Not cold enough for that. At the reserve, definitely not unless you’re in a habitat made to be that way. At the Scamanders’ house, though, it’s a bit cooler. They live in New York. The reserve is mostly in Texas.”

“…Isn’t that really far?”

Anthony chuckles. “It’s America. Compared to Britain, everything is far. They’ve got a special floo specifically for travel between their home and the reserve, but yeah, they do have to contend with the time difference.”

“So, where will we be staying?” asks Terry. “Harry is going to live with them, of course, and I imagine you will, too, but will there be room for Michael and I or will we be lodging on the reserve like most out-of-area interns would?”

Anthony keeps a wry smirk. “The four of us will share a keeper residence on the reserve, actually. But as we’re all underage and they are my cousins, we’ll all be expected at the house regularly. Expect Rolf to stop by often to check on us, too. And we’ll probably have most of our meals with them whether we like it or not.”

“Sounds good to me,” says Michael.

It does sound good. Kind of similar to how they are here at Hogwarts. Living together and going to class and doing assignments together.

Harry sighs. It’s similar, except that they’re going to begin training to fight Voldemort. A large part of Harry really doesn’t want them involved. He’s scared for them. He knows how strong Voldemort is, he knows how dangerous fighting him is, and every second that they decide to fight with Harry is another where they can die.

But Michael hits the nail on the head earlier today. The same reason Harry accepts Ron and Hermione there at his side in the fight is the same reason he has to accept Michael, Terry, and Anthony.

Harry can’t abandon them even if he wants to. He can’t even really say for sure that their choice to fight is solely motivated by his role in the coming war, but if he considers that it isn’t, if Harry has the opportunity they do, to back out and choose to stay out of it and stay safe, he’d fight, too. He won’t even consider allowing any one of them to go out there without being at their side.

So, he shouldn’t be a hypocrite and ask them to stand back. He’d only invite resentment. Like Dumbledore keeping Harry out of the loop in the name of keeping him “safe.”

Safe is important, but even more important than that is that they’re happy with their choice. That they have a choice to begin with.

“Harry?” Michael asks softly. “You alright?”

Harry looks up at the boys who come to mean so much to him so quickly, who understand him, who listen to him when no one else does, who involve him when the people he relies on are unwilling to. And he can’t keep the question from his tongue. It stings his lips; he knows he shouldn’t ask, but he does anyway, “Are you all really sure about this? Training to fight Voldemort… You have the chance to walk away, to stay safe.”

The boys all go quiet. Anthony, surprisingly, speaks up first in a low, intimidating growl. “No, I don’t,” he says. “That chance walked away when Voldemort threatened the people I care about. I will- always- lift my wand for you guys. Any of you.”

Harry swallows thickly. Anthony is by far the protective one, so it’s not out of left field, but… Harry knows he hates fighting. Harry knows he’s not as bold, can’t brush it off as easily, as Ron and Hermione do over the years.

“We told you the day you trusted us to know you’re an animagus, didn’t we?” asks Terry calmly. “You’re our friend. It doesn’t matter what we face. An impossible problem, or an unbeatable enemy. We’re in it together.”

Terry… Terry is the most unsuited for combat. Anthony at least has those protective instincts driving him to face down whatever he must, even if he breaks a little afterwards when he’s safe again. But Terry isn’t made for confrontation. He’s in near hysterics in the Ministry, and he’s chosen to talk to Fudge and Madam Bones during the Umbridge thing for a reason. He’s a brilliant, brilliant man, but he’s good at talking, at logic and deduction, and at reading situations. He’s not good for a firefight.

There’s nothing shameful about that. Frankly, Harry is the opposite. He sucks hard at all the things Terry is best at. They need a Terry, but Harry worries that putting him into combat…

No, Terry is stronger than he looks. He holds his own in the Ministry, too, and his quick thinking is invaluable. And… he’s no less determined to be there for his friends. He’s even braver than Harry.

Michael’s gentle hands cup Harry’s cheeks, turning him so that they come face to face. Michael smiles softly, kisses Harry’s forehead, and whispers, “We’re sure. We know, and we’re sure. Just like you are.”

Just like he is. They know the danger, just like Harry does. They’re resolved, just like Harry is. They’re not being kept in ignorance. They make their choice with Voldemort’s claws flashing before them, and they show their fangs, anyway.

How can he deny them, that?

“Thank you,” Harry whispers. He gulps for a second. His eyes linger in Michael’s dark ones, then sink to his lips, then come back up.

He reaches up, grabs Michael’s face, and kisses him on the mouth.

For a blissful second, it’s just their kiss, their first real one, though they occasionally kiss on the cheek or forehead before this. Technically they don’t even have their first date, yet, but Harry thinks fighting together against Death Eaters and Voldemort counts as a bonding moment.

And then Anthony makes a gagging sort of sound, and Terry wolf-whistles, and Harry and Michael break apart with identical groans of exasperation and embarrassment.

Michael glares weakly at his two best friends. “You couldn’t have just let me have it?”

Terry snickers. “That’s what she said.”

“I hate you.”

Harry holds tight to Michael and laughs. He laughs until Michael laughs, too, and all four of them chuckle until they’re all chuckled out and they go to sit on each of their respective beds, quietly agreeing to just relax for a moment.

Harry considers joining Michael in his bed, but he doesn’t want to push it, and he does initiate their first kiss just then. He doesn’t think Michael will mind, but he thinks it’s a good idea for him to take a moment and sort through that new development in their relationship himself before doing anything else.

So, he climbs up over Terry instead, to the spare top bunk no one actually sleeps in, and jumps thoughtlessly onto the mattress.

There’s a small, muffled poof and Harry and the bed is engulfed in a noxious stench cloud.

The boys all jump up to attention even as Harry slowly registers what just happens.

The spare bed… a stink pellet hidden in the sheets…

“Wha- who-?” asks Michael.

Harry closes his eyes. He takes a deep, steadying breath and regrets it because of the stench. “Did… Did I just prank myself?” he asks no one. God, or Fate, maybe. He can’t believe he forgets about that stupid stink pellet!

A beat passes. Then the howling starts.

Michael is inconsolable. In seconds there are tears streaming down his face for laughing so hard. He’s wheezing and very nearly falling off the bed. Terry shouts, “Ha! Karma!” and laughs just as eagerly.

Harry looks to Anthony, his one ally in this cruel world. Anthony shakes his head, a smile on his lips, and says, “Sorry, Tiger. Not getting you out of this one.”

“I’m betrayed,” moans Harry.

Michael falls out of his bunk. The only thing keeping Harry from breaking into laughter himself is the temporary concern over whether he’s okay falling from the top bunk like that. He’s fine, though, literally prone on the floor cackling like a hyena.

“Abandoned. Forsaken.”

“It’s just the consequences of your own actions,” says Terry.

“I have never done anything wrong, ever, in my life,” declares Harry. Michael is just a trembling ball on the floor. No help at all.

Anthony scoffs. “That doesn’t even work when you’re a cat.”

“I have no allies left in this world.”

“Drama queen.”

“Well, he is a cat.”

“You all are so mean,” Harry whines. “I love you guys.”

“We love you, too. I’m still not going to save you.”

“…Rude.”

[t1oui]

thinking about the rosier twins during (and before) the war

cw: mentions of death, war, self-harm, etc. nothing overly explicit.

pandora and evan rosier never believed in all the pureblood propaganda they were subjected to as children, but they never said so, because they aren’t idiots. both were almost put into ravenclaw, but were sent to slytherin instead, because something about this way of thinking seems to make good snakes.

while pandora befriends her dorm mate dorcas, evan befriends regulus and barty. the five of them grow up as the best of friends.

by their fifth year, evan finds himself falling for barty. barty, who has had sex with half the school when evan doesn’t want to have sex at all. barty, who hates his father more than evan does. barty, who laps up all the pureblood nonsense evan and pandora have spent years turning away from.

and yet, when he and barty are together, when they kiss and hold each other and never have to do anything more, evan can almost forget that they’re doomed.

the night barty shows evan his dark mark, evan cries and holds onto him and kisses him because he knows it might be the last time. one of them is in the wrong, clearly, but they’re both hurting because they both think it’s evan.

why, barty wonders, won’t he come with me? why can’t we build a new life together?

maybe, evan thinks, i should follow him. maybe i’m the one on the wrong side of this.

but no matter how many nights they spend together, how many times evan cries into barty’s arms while barty begs evan to follow him, evan knows he won’t. he knows he’ll join the order with pandora, follow her to the right side, fight against everything barty believes in with everything he does.

and he knows, no matter how long they put it off, they’re going to have to say goodbye, because two people on opposite sides of a war don’t get to have a happy ending.

as the war amps up, evan stays behind in raids and fights because what if he has to fight one of them?

he watches dorcas fall in love with marlene mckinnon, and pandora find xenophilius lovegood. he hears about marriages and deaths and arrests. regulus dies and he doesn’t come out of his apartment for three days.

the war ends, and he doesn’t see barty again, because barty is in azkaban. he deserves it, evan thinks, but he never really believes it.

dorcas is dead. regulus is dead. barty is in prison. pandora is alive, and that’s a blessing. evan is alive, and he thinks it might be a curse.

luna is three. evan’s only met her once. harry potter, the boy who lived, the boy pandora took in out of the goodness of her heart, is four. evan’s only seen him in newspapers.

luna is three when barty dies. she doesn’t know who he is, and neither does harry, but they both know that their mum is very upset. they can’t figure out why, and they hate it.

pandora rosier is 24 when her brother dies. why’d you give up? she wants to scream. why’d you have to stop trying because of him? couldn’t you keep trying for me?

but she remembers all those nights holding evan as he cried, remembers how skinny he got starving himself until pandora forced herself into his house and made him eat. why’d you have to give up? she thinks, but maybe it’s better that he did.

pandora’s 24, and she’s alive, and none of her friends are. she’s just glad they’ve stopped hurting.

[tamagosandesu]

SSMonth 2022

Title: in these little interactions we had Prompt: crossovers (day 5) Summary: Ever since the day they first met at Hogwarts, they were both captivated by one another. The first time their gazes met, there was this electrifying feeling in between. Who knew it these growing encounters did they find true love? Author’s Notes: So, when I saw day 5 was crossovers, I immediately thought of harry potter. While I’m not really a complete fan of it, I still enjoy the HP movies. I also once saw a smutfic in twitter where sakura was the ravenclaw headmaster and sasuke was the slytherin one and I thought it was such a great idea. This is a very fluffy one since I don’t have the time to thinks about complicated plots. Credits to onemorepineapple on twitter for the inspiration!

__________________________

Ever since the day they first met at Hogwarts, they were both captivated by one another

Sakura was a mudblood, born to a loving muggle couple above average. She had a normal childhood, going into pre-school and learning the same subjects as muggles, unaware of the world of magic that lies beyond their very own world.

That was, of course, until her letter of acceptance arrived from Hogwarts—brought by an old-fashioned looking man, and had her name written, and sealed with a stamp that differs from other. When she saw the Hogwarts name, she tried to look it up whenever she had the free time to roam around the library freely. But none came up. As far as she knows, Hogwarts was a school that doesn’t exist.

At first, she ignored the invitation. And as much as it piqued her interest to know that it was delivered by a man that had a…broom with him, she dropped the issue as if it was nothing, and that it was just another one of those sham mails, she assumed.

But when the mails returned, and seemed to be more persistent than before—almost flooding their mailbox—she finally regarded the letter serious, and finally had the courage to open.

“Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry…?” she reads the name of the school aloud. Witchcraft? Is this some sort of dark propaganda?

She had doubts, high doubts that this is actually a legitimate school that people in at her age go to. Being at a young age, and of course of curios nature, Sakura asks her parents about the matter. Her curiosity only grew when her parents practically gasped so dramatically upon seeing the letter, with such great fascination and wonder that it makes her think for a moment if the school does actually exist.

Her parents later explained to her what this Hogwarts is all about, and the amazing fact that she has a witch’s blood running through her. One of her ancestors were a wizard, and also graduated in this certain school.

Sakura understood this, with an open mind and an understanding soul that she continued her study in Hogwarts, without really knowing what was waiting for her.

Especially about a certain ink-haired man who she has fallen so deeply in love with.

__________________________

They first met at the sorting ceremony, like how every other newcomer did. And yet, at the same time, theirs was entirely different. The first time their gazes met, there was this electrifying feeling that ran through her entire body after seeing such deep, piercing onyx eyes. So fathomless, and yet at the same time it was so, utterly mysterious. The moment she set eyes on him, she couldn’t take her eyes away from his handsome face, chiseled jaw, aristocratic nose, and a purely beautiful being.

He was the very personification of dark, mysterious, and so handsome. He was the complete contrast of her being—a colorful mixture of bubblegum pink, and green eyes that made her stand out like a sore thumb.

Though Sakura thought that it was such a waste that they ended up being sorted into different houses. She was assigned as a Ravenclaw—exceptional wizards and witches that excels in wit, intelligence, and intellect. While the mysterious boy, on the other hand, was a Slytherin—ambitious, clever, and determined beings that are the root of evil most of times, or so she heard.

The first banquet of the year was held right after the sorting ceremony in the Great Hall, that depicts the wonders of magic from the walls, the lights, the roof, even to the food.

Sakura was all new to this, and she knows her eyes are wide right now in amazement and utter interest, and her mouth probably gaping. Everywhere you look was fascinating, even the food was well done.

While that was already so much to take it, little did Sakura know that right there, was only the start of an adventure.

__________________________

Sakura was fifteen when she developed a deep fondness towards medicine. In the muggle world, medicine was modern—created in laboratories, pharmaceuticals, clinically-tested, and underwent many, many processes of experimentation. But in the wizarding world, medicine was peculiar, but much more effective. Honestly, she shouldn’t be surprised about these matters since she knew she’s no longer in the normal world deprived of magic. And yet, every time an herb grew in Hogwarts does its wonders, she can’t help but still be in awe after everything.

It didn’t take long for her fondness towards medicine to grow into a full-fledged love affair, having her devote almost all of her time towards learning all there is to know about certain medications in Hogwarts. She was a Ravenclaw, after all, always craving knowledge, wanting to know, wanting to explore almost everything.

And besides the newfound devotion towards a new hobby-turned-into-passion, she also found love. Never, in Sakura’s life, has she ever looked at a man in deep, profound, and ever-growing attraction that she did with Uchiha Sasuke. The man was growing even more handsome every year, and every time she sees him after their well-deserved break from school, he just grows more and more interesting.

At first she only thought that her inevitable curiosity towards the young boy was nothing but young infatuation—seeing someone so absolutely gorgeous wasn’t a sight she experienced every day at her muggle school. But as she was aging, maturing, and growing-up, she later realized that she developed a genuine liking towards the man.

__________________________

Sakura was seventeen when she and Sasuke have more frequent interactions than before.

The longer she was at Hogwarts, the more responsibility she gets. After being taken under Professor Shizune’s wing—their herbology teacher that also deals with poisons, she gained more tasks to do at school. Instead of going directly to the Ravenclaw tower after school, she now has to run around the hallways to find certain people for certain things, and navigate her way into classrooms to finish certain duties.

Sasuke, on the other hand, became Slytherin’s Quidditch team captain and was also taken personally by the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor Orochimaru under his tutelage.

Their interactions were never longer than a few civilized sentences exchanged for either academic’s sake, or formality’s sake. Still, that didn’t become a reason for Sakura to like him less. Because every time they would see each other, whatever time of the day, he’s still so achingly handsome that it’s unfair. Long days of school are stressful, and Sakura’s physical appearance mostly mirrors what she feels inside. If she feels exhausted, her shoulders sag. When she feels mentally stressed, her hair dishevels and stands in an unruly way that it becomes messy.

But with Sasuke, it doesn’t happen. Even if both houses had a long day ahead of them, Sasuke still manages to look effortlessly gorgeous that she practically swoons. Even after being in the air for a long time due to Quidditch matches, he’s still able to look handsome despite being sweaty.

Their interactions aren’t special, or personal. But it’s in those moments that Sakura is able to speak freely to him. And honestly, she’s satisfied.

__________________________

She was eighteen and in her final year in Hogwarts when things between them and Sasuke got more serious.

From simple, short conversations about important matters, to clandestine meet-ups in a more secluded area in the library to talk much longer than before.

It all started when Sakura got lost along her way of looking for the Xylomancy room to give an important message when coincidentally, Sasuke was also there in the same hallway.

“Hey Sasuke,” while they might not be close, they’ve come to an understanding still of allowing each other to drop the honorifics and talk casually to each other. Because after all, they’re just the same age, and plus, their encounters were so frequent it seemed hard to continue being so formal with each other.

The man in question looks at her in acknowledgement, and hums. “What?”

“I seem to be lost…” she shyly confesses, “I was looking for the Xylomancy classroom to pass on and important message, but I can’t find the room.”

“I know where it is,” he responds simple, shrugging.

“Can you help me?” Sakura asks.

“Sure.”

Sasuke takes the lead while Sakura silently followed behind. They’ve had enough encounters to know where each other was comfortable. Sasuke prefers silence more than anything, and Sakura wants nothing more than this young man’s company. So, whenever they’re together, they fall in a routine that’s almost unconsciously natural.

When they finally found the classroom, Sakura heads in and expects Sasuke to leave her alone now after helping her. But she’s somewhat surprised when she saw him leaning at the door, arms crossed that made him look so utterly handsome, staring right at her and waiting patiently for her to come back.

She didn’t question what was his intentions though. Knowing Sasuke, he sort-of has a reputation at school of being anti-social and almost an asshole. But these, for Sakura, are nothing more than mere rumors and wrong notions. Because for her, and whenever she’s with him, he never shows these alleged attitudes towards her.

Walking along the hallway, Sasuke asks her how her day was, making small conversation that seemed so unlikely of him. But she still complied, however, and gladly told him today’s occurrence in her life.

That was the start. From civilized talks, they slowly transitioned out and their conversations turned into more personal, and somewhat trivial things about each other. They would coincidentally meet-up in the library, study together, and sometimes chat away, or play chess against each other. Their dynamic was refreshing in some way—the silent comfort of the library and the ever-so-peaceful ambience of each other’s company was something they both liked, deep down.

Sakura can’t really tell what they are, or if there’s something going on between them. They flirt, (again so unlikely of Sasuke), sometimes she slumbers away at the comfort of his shoulder, they eat lunch together at secluded areas of the school, they meet-up at certain times of the night, and they meld into a routine that isn’t quite normal for people that are considered to be acquaintances, nor friends.

So, they might be more than friends, but she also knows they aren’t above lovers either.

__________________________  

It was graduation night when Sasuke formally asks her to be his girlfriend, and sweetly stole her first ever kiss.

After weeks, and months of having a shift towards their relationship, they grew more comfortable with each other, more than ever. Since both of them still has obligations and responsibilities in the school despite being graduated, they can’t really have all the time for themselves.

So instead, they continue their clandestine meetings late at night, or at lunch to sneak out and eat somewhere else alone with only each other’s company.

There are times when Sakura craves, wants something more than what they have. There are times when she suddenly seeks the comfort of Sasuke’s embrace and warmth at the most random of times, and wished for them to spend more time with each other. It’s not that they’re drifting apart, but because she fears they will.

There are so many more fishes in the sea, and much more appealing woman that could very much catch Sasuke’s attention and leave Sakura for her. Behind her, there are women lining to be his lover, especially that their relationship is so private only a handful of people knows the truth.

Sakura never voices out her concerns, until Sasuke practically had to drag the truth out of her to realize what was wrong, and even to confess to Sakura that he also feels the same a lot of times. Sakura is way too hardworking and driven to notice the number of boys that hounds her. She’s beautiful, it doesn’t take a genius to realize that. The first time he laid eyes on her in the Great Hall, he was so mesmerized by her being that his mind was plagued and easily distracted by pink everywhere for a whole week after seeing her. And besides her otherworldly beauty, she was kind, so charming, and witty that’ll surely attract everyone.

When Sasuke and Sakura started to have common interactions with each other, Sasuke was thankful. Thankful that he’s given the chance to be graced by her beauty, by her charm, despite what she might think she looks like. He’s heard her complain a lot about how exhausted she looks, but he doesn’t see that. What he finds in her is that she’s adorable, so cute when she pouts, when she raises an eyebrow in genuine curiosity, and when she beams at him with a grin so wide it brightens up his whole day.

He started to be attracted, then he started to see her as a woman he potentially likes, up until it came to the point that he dreams of her because of being absolutely smitten with her.

So, when he finally drew courage and took urges to get to know her, he was so satisfied that he finally got her. And he knew he will do anything to keep her.

__________________________

Sakura and Sakura were twenty-five and newly promoted as their respective house’s Headmasters when their relationship was finally known by almost everyone. Slytherin house was now under Sasuke, and Ravenclaw’s new headmaster was now Sakura, and their relationship was the juiciest gossip that was circulating at school.

The big revelations happened after Sasuke was asked if he likes someone while he was drunk, then bluntly blurted out, “I have a girlfriend,” to which promptly surprises everyone. And it seems Sasuke was very, very, drunk because he says that the love of his life was Sakura, a confession that made professors stumble out of their chairs, and the Gryffindor headmaster—Naruto—choke on his drink.

And because of that, both of them are constantly teased whenever they would be seen even only a tad bit close to one another. Literally, whenever Sasuke visits her classroom—she now also teaches herbology and Sasuke teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts—to ask for something about charms, her students would yell and tease her non-stop that only makes Sasuke smirk from her deep embarrassment.

No one really understands how their love works—they could go hours without talking, just sitting right beside each other, a simple glance could be an exchange of a thousand words, and a mere moment beside each other was as precious as a gem for them. But still, no one doubted their affections towards each other were nothing but deep, genuine, and surely mutual.

__________________________

It didn’t take long after that for Sasuke to pop the question with the help of everyone. He made sure his proposal would be magical, much more magical than Hogwarts itself.

First, he led her to their favorite part of Hogwarts—a certain tower where they would sit and look down at the school for hours—disguising it as a date to lure Sakura to it. Next, he had everyone cast spells to create fireworks, spelling out the words will you marry me before Sasuke goes down on one knee and presents a majestic ruby-adorned ring.

And of course, Sakura didn’t hesitate to say yes.

Their life in Hogwarts might not include anything extraordinary like villains trying to raid it or an evil-spawn waging war. But at the very least, it was especially meaningful.

[prfctethereal]

My Everything - Tom Riddle x Reader

pairing: tom riddle x reader

word count: 3,175

a/n: uhh this is my first one shot imagine thing so i hope it doesnt stink. I’ve already posted this on ao3 but i thought i might give tumblr a try. -kennedy

***

A cold winter’s day was nothing as the potions classroom steamed up in the heat. Stressed students in their last year of school fumbled with their cauldrons, scribbling notes onto their parchment, trying to remember everything they would need for their NEWTs coming up in June. Smokey fog misted the room, suffocating the students. If only someone could crack open a window - too bad they were in the dungeons.

On today’s agenda, Amortentia, the most powerful love potion in the world. It was only revision but since I had done so poorly on it last year, I was determined to get a higher score this year. Luckily, we could choose our potions partners in our seventh year, so I partnered up with my best friend, and exceedingly talented potions maker, Tom Riddle.

I’ve known Tom ever since year one. My nervous self lost on a train in a sea of strangers, unsure of where to go, unsure of where to step. Everyone seemed so intimidating and daunting; I struggled to even speak up and talk to anyone. Alone I sat, in an empty compartment, scanning my new textbooks so I wouldn’t seem so daft.

It was hard being muggleborn. I thought I would’ve been behind everyone academically, only just learning about the wizarding world last May when I turned eleven and got my Hogwarts letter. Of course, I was ecstatic - who wouldn’t be? The idea of magic had always fascinated me, growing up on fairytales and myths. But then, I traded in Snow White for Standard Book of Spells: Volume One.

Yet, as I saw the compartment door open and I locked eyes with a reserved, charming boy, I sat my book down and gave a small smile. He returned the smile with a wave, before turning his attention to the spell book in my lap, cocking an eyebrow up.

“Getting a head start?” The strange boy had asked. At that moment, I had to decide what to say. I could tell the truth and reveal that I was a nervous muggleborn who was afraid of knowing nothing in my classes, but I had already heard about the prejudice around muggleborns. Many people believed they were inferior to pureblood wizards and I wasn’t sure if this boy was one of those people. I was in no position to pass up a friendship. So I lied.

“I was just so happy to be going to Hogwarts that I just wanted to get right into the learning. I mean, I've been waiting to go for my entire life.” I stuttered out, praying that I had said the right thing. The strange boy’s face relaxed as he heard that and held his hand out in front of him, waiting for me to shake it. Hesitantly, I leaned over, taking his hand in mine. His fingers were cold and slender, curling around mine in a menacing manner. All my thoughts told me to get out of there, to run away before anything bad could happen, but I was so alone. I wanted a friend more than anything.

“My name is Tom Riddle.” His voice was smooth like melted silver, enchanting me. I could feel a pink tint rise on my cheeks, encapsulating my face in a blush. Looking down to avoid his piercing blue eyes, I smiled softly. I shook his hand as he wanted, pulling away. His hands were foreign and they felt strange wrapped around mine. Yet, so alluring.

“I’m [Y/N L/N].” I blurted, placing my hands in my lap nervously. Regret flushed into my veins as I watched his mind process what I had told him. Was my name too muggle-like? Had I given away my secret already? Yet, he smirked. A good sign, I had decided.

We talked casually for the rest of the train ride. Avoiding as many questions about my family as possible, I noticed Tom doing the exact same thing. So I never brought it up and he didn’t either. He seemed interesting though. Like his last name entailed, he was a riddle and I was curious to solve him. I was never going to get anywhere though with just small talk. I wanted to be closer to him.

At the sorting ceremony, I watched as he went up to the sorting hat. Immediately after the hat was placed upon his head, it exclaimed “Slytherin!” I had at least read up on the different houses at Hogwarts. I knew what Slytherins were about; their pureblood propaganda was almost impossible to avoid when reading Hogwarts: A History. As I saw the glint of passion in Tom’s eyes when he heard the house, I realised I had made the right choice to lie about my blood on the bus. He was ever so pleased to be a Slytherin.

When my name was called, I begged not to be in Slytherin. Tom would find out my secret if I was around him too much, so I asked the sorting hat not to place me in the house of serpents. The most I remember from that sorting ceremony was hearing “Ravenclaw” come out of the sorting hat’s mouth and fainting onto the cool ground.

Waking up in the hospital wing, my eyes fluttered open to see none other than Tom Riddle sitting in the chair next to me. He was looking out for me and at the moment, he became my best friend for the next seven years.

But now, we were seventeen years old, sleeves rolled up, sweat beading at our foreheads. I wiped it away panting heavily. I couldn’t mess up Amortentia for a second time; I would never hear the end of it from Tom. We were both top students in all our classes but in potions, he was definitely on top. As I shrugged my cardigan off, I heard him snigger under his breath, shaking his head while chuckling. I gave him dagger eyes before turning back to my potion. I knew he was mocking me for being stressed. Not everyone could be so calm while potion making.

“Do you need some help?” I heard Tom’s voice from behind me, as I flicked my head around, revealing his cocky grin, watching me from over my shoulder. My lips were pursed tight as I gave him a small smile, trying not to reveal that I was struggling. Yet, as I was about to add bat wings to the cauldron, Tom put his hands on mine, pulling it away from the bubbling mixture. “I think you do if you’re going to add uncut bat wings into the potion.”

Frantically, I looked over at my potions book, seeing that Tom was correct - they needed to be roughly chopped. Taking a deep breath, I listened to his laughs as I grabbed my knife out, chopping them up into big chunks before adding them into the deep, velvety mixture, and stirred it three times anti-clockwise. All I needed now was to wait for it to simmer, so I sat back in my chair, tying my hair up to get it off my face.

Joining me peacefully, Tom sat beside me, a smug look on his face. His potion was simmering now too. We were both very quick at making potions, even if his potions were of a better quality than mine. I closed my eyes, taking a whiff of the aromas in the room. Nothing distinct could be smelt by me, except for the boy sitting next to me. All I wished to do was fall asleep right now, but I knew that I couldn't do that, so I sat up to take the potion off the heat. It should be finished by now.

Tom followed me up and I looked into my cauldron, unsure if it was any good. Questionably, I turned my head over to Tom, hoping he could smell it and test if it was working right. Tom trusted me with the information that he was born out of a love potion and couldn’t love anyone, so if he couldn’t smell anything, it should be perfect. As I gestured to my finished potion, I offered him to smell it and he leaned in. When the fumes raised up to his nose, his eyes widened in shock, his pupils dilating.

“Well, I can smell something in there.” He laughed, but I just sighed, on the verge of tears. I really needed to make it correctly but I had messed up again. Tom noticed that I was about to break down and placed his arm around my shoulders, pulling me into a small hug. His soft hands came to my cheeks, taking his thumb and rubbing my flushed cheekbone. “Hey, hey, hey, it's okay. Maybe we can restart it before Professor Slughorn comes to check on it?”

But, it was too late. Professor Slughorn had noticed the lack of us doing anything and had wandered over to us, excitedly. I tried to hide my scarlet cheeks from the old man, burying myself in Tom’s torso, yet Slughorn had arrived, eagerly wanting to smell my potion. Reluctantly, I took the lid off my cauldron and moved out of the way to let Professor Slughorn smell my Amortentia.

Surprisingly, Professor Slughorn smiled as he smelt my potion. Confused, I tried to study his face and find out what he was smiling about. My question was answered soon after. “It’s perfect, Miss [L/N], it’s absolutely perfect. I can smell my late wife perfectly. Outstanding work! A big improvement from last year, aye?”

I was so shocked by what Slughorn had just said that I just nodded and gulped, looking over to Tom next to me. He looked even more nervous than me, avoiding eye contact with me as Professor Slughorn walked off. “You said you could smell something,” I asked Tom, “so why did you lie?”

“I didn’t.” Tom said quietly, leaning over his own cauldron. He took his bottom lip between his teeth, chewing nervously. I wasn’t paying much attention though, as I bent down over my own cauldron, taking in the aroma of the Amortentia. Old parchment, fire, and -

Tom caught my eye. His face looked pale, as if all the colour had been drained. Shyly, I looked away, turning my attention away from Tom and towards our teacher, folding my hands awkwardly in my lap.

“So, that’s the last lesson of the term. Over the holidays, I would like two rolls of parchment on the effects of Amortentia on a person. You may go now.” Slughorn said, before dismissing us. I grabbed my book bag before heading swiftly out of the potion classroom. As I left, I was met with a great gust of wind, sending shivers down my spine, cooling me down immediately, to a point where the sweat felt like icicles. Opening my bag, I searched for my cardigan, realising I had left it in the classroom.

Clumsily, I reentered the classroom, to see that the only one left in the room was Tom. He turned to me as I walked in, so I flashed him a calm smile. Strolling back to my seat, I took my cardigan in my hands, wrapping it around my cold body. Leaving the class, Tom followed after me, catching up to me and engaging me in conversation.

“So, everyone leaves tomorrow for the holidays.” Tom started, “What do you want to do first?” A dangerous smirk raised on his face, waiting for my answer. As a tradition, every year we stayed at school together, two of the only people who stayed, and caused mayhem to all the teachers and remaining students. It was the most exciting time of year. It always ended with us falling asleep on Christmas Eve in the Astronomy Tower, watching all the stars into the night. Unfortunately, this year was different.

“I have to go home this year.” Tom’s face fell as I said these words, his eyes filling with sadness. Before he could ask why, I answered his question. “I’m going to be eighteen soon and that means I’m going to get married. My parents want me to go home and meet my new fiancé that I’m going to have to marry. I’m sorry Tom.”

“Y-you’re getting married?” Tom stuttered, and he never stuttered. I looked away from him ashamed. He looked at me like I was some foreign person, someone who he didn’t know. I couldn’t even look at me.

“I’m sorry.” I spluttered out, as I turned the corner towards the Ravenclaw tower, leaving Tom down in the dungeons. I turned back towards him before quietly saying, “goodbye Tom.”

***

Morning broke and I woke up early to pack my suitcase up. Of course, I didn't want to go home. I didn’t want to be a victim to some muggle arranged marriage. In all honesty, my parents were ashamed of me being a witch. That’s why I never returned home each winter holiday, only going back to them in the summer holidays, when I needed to. Hoping that it would squash out the magic in my blood, my parents were forcing me to marry the blandest, most normal man they could find.

I decided to skip breakfast this morning, being unable to even look at Tom. Last night at dinner had been sufficiently awkward enough, even while ignoring him as much as possible. Yet, I could feel his eyes burning the back of my head the entire time. I couldn’t handle that again so I decided I could just get something to eat on the train.

It was currently nine o’clock in the morning. The train was scheduled to leave at ten so I had to hurry up, shoving as many as my muggle clothes in my bag as possible. If this day couldn’t get any worse, outside my window I could see the clouds closing in, small raindrops falling onto my window pane. Sighing, I pulled out an old sweater that I had given to Tom to borrow earlier this term. It still smelt like him - the smell was alluring.

The plan was to get out of the castle and onto the platform as soon as possible. I could talk to Tom one on one again once I had gotten back from my trip, but I was still terrified of what would happen. He was my best friend, surely he would understand?

Taking a carriage out of Hogwarts, I arrived in Hogsmeade, ready to take the train. With my suitcase in hand, I reached up to grab onto the train, yet I was pulled back onto the platform. 9:50am. The train would leave in ten minutes and I needed to get on. Also, it was raining harder now, and I wasn’t happy about getting soaked.

I knew it was Tom who pulled me away and I couldn’t disagree with his feelings. I had left him with nothing. I had ignored him for the past sixteen hours. I was being a bad friend, I know, but I couldn’t stand to see him sad and miserable. It hurt me. It hurt him. I hated seeing him hurt

9:52am. We had finally reached our destination. A small secluded area away from the platform. It may have been quiet but I was still being pummeled by the rain, shivering in my thin sweater. I looked up through my dew-covered eyelashes up to Tom, who stood much taller than me. His normally perfect curls were damp and limp, clinging tightly to his pale face. His eyes had a look of disappointment and confusion in them. His hands were resting on the sides of my arms, not letting me go. For a few moments, we just stood there, staring at each other, breathing heavily, until Tom finally spoke.

“Don’t go.” Tom finally said. 9:54am. I couldn’t find the words to say, the only thing coming out of my mouth was incomprehensible sounds.

“I have to go. My parents-”

“I don’t care about them. Stay here. With me.”

“What about my marri-?”

Tom looked away and I stopped talking. Out of instinct, I took my rain-sodden hand up to his cheek, turning him towards me. I leaned in closer to him, trying to get him to see where I was coming from. Yet, my heart fluttered at our closeness. He no longer felt cold, like when I first met him. His hands were warm. His eyes were kind. He was different.

“You will regret it if you go.” Tom muttered. “I know you will. I know you. And no man will ever know you like I do.”

9:56am. I really had to go, but I couldn’t leave Tom here. Slowly, I released him from my grasp and went back in, wrapping my arms around his neck, pulling him into a warm hug. His arms fell perfectly around my waist, pulling me in tighter. I never wanted to move, but I felt his hand leave my waist. My heart fell for a moment until he reattached his hand to my chin, tilting my head upwards. That’s when his lips connected with mine.

His lips were soft, something I didn’t expect. Truthfully, I didn’t expect a kiss at all. It was innocent as small as first, slowly releasing me, but it wasn’t enough. My heart wanted more, so I cupped his cheeks with my hands and pulled him in for another kiss, more passionate than the first. Our lips were synchronised perfectly, our touch igniting each other. It was as if I had never been happy before and Tom filled me with all the joy I needed. Then, he pulled away, placing a piece of my wet hair behind my ear. “Don’t go.”

9:58am. “I have to go. I can’t stay here. I’m not enough.” I looked down but Tom’s hand pulled me upwards again so I could feel his breath on my ear.

“I love-”

I pulled away before he could finish. He was making a mistake. He had no idea who I really was and it seemed like time to finally tell him.

“Tom, I am not who you think I am.” I started, feeling Tom’s eyes watching me intently. “I’m nothing more than a muggle born witch. I’m a mudblood. I’m nothing compared to you.”

9:59am. He didn't hesitate. He didn’t say anything. I was waiting for him to say something, to end this awkward silence, but instead, he just pulled me into another kiss.

“[Y/N] [L/N], I do not care that you are muggle born. You aren’t nothing. You are my everything and I love you. I love you so much.”

For one last time, he pulled me into a tight kiss and none of us let go. The rain poured down, keeping us in a tight bubble of our own heat. I could never let go.

10:00am.

I heard the train’s horn go but I didn’t care.

I pulled away, much to Tom’s despair, but whispered something, almost inaudibly.

“I love you too.”

[pixiesdontlieido]

Characters like Voldemort, Horace Slughorn, Severus Snape, among others, displayed many attributes of Slytherin that made them better wizards than most. There’s also the fact that Slytherin House has feats and achievements that people from Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw didn’t match, and it’s worth looking into how Slytherin may just be the best House. Go online try to find some articles out there that claim to show why Slytherin is the best house. You won’t be able to find many that are good. You can see they aren’t very deep and don’t have very genuine reasons. Some of are even biased and say that Slytherins are evil.

When an 11-year-old boy is chanting ‘NOT SLYTHERIN! NOT SLYTHERIN!’ endlessly into a Sorting Hat, you may get the impression that this Hogwarts house has an iffy reputation.

Slytherins are encouraged to bend the rules and express themselves, so you can get away with a lot more than any other house. Even if you get caught, Snape will bail you out and place the blame on innocent students in Gryffindor.

The Slytherin common room is located behind a wall in the Hogwarts dungeons, and the decor is filled with skulls, snakes, and green-tinted light. This sounds infinitely better than having to converse with a temperamental Fat Lady every time you want to chill with your housemates.

Slytherin’s most dominant trait is ambition, and as everyone knows, ambition is the biggest key to success. You don’t really see any duds coming out of this house (cough Hufflepuff cough), so even if some of the members can be a little twisted, at least they’re making something of themselves.

Unlike Gryffindor’s garish red and gold colors, Slytherin’s green and silver are dark, elegant, and mysterious. The Slytherins are the only ones who look good in their school robes, and honestly, what’s more important than appearance?

Let’s be real: Gryffindor’s ghost, Nearly Headless Nick, is rather annoying. Slytherin's ghost, on the other hand, is multidimensional and infinitely more interesting. The Bloody Baron is the only one who can control Peeves, so that’s one more nuisance you can avoid.

Before Harry arrived at Hogwarts, Slytherin won both the House Cup and Quidditch Cup almost every single year, and after Harry left, I’ll bet they started winning everything again. Yes, Snape favored them a little, but that can only get you so far! Slytherin obviously has the talent too.

Just because most of the Slytherins we got to know in the series were pathetic, evil human beings does not mean that all Slytherins are.

Harry Potter is only 11 years old when Hagrid tells him that wizards who go bad are often Slytherins. And he believes him, even though Hagrid is frequently wrong (Aragog, anyone?). Later, Harry meets Ron Weasley, who reaffirms this anti-Slytherin propaganda and convinces him to settle for literally any other house. In the same way that Republicans and Democrats often make sweeping generalizations about each other, I think Gryffindors just love talking smack about Slytherin (and vice versa). It's the thing to do. Meanwhile, you never catch Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff coming at each other. Maybe if we weren't introduced to bitter Gryffindors at the beginning of Harry Potter, we'd think positively about Slytherin house.

The sorting hat places Harry in Slytherin but our hero thinks he knows better in his first week as a wizard. And we're talking 1991, before Google and school websites could give him an unbiased understanding of house characteristics. So he's heard the term Slytherin maybe three times, and feels confident making a decision that will affect him for the next seven years.

He even double checks a year later and the sorting hat is like, "yup, I stand by my decision." I don't know when we started unquestionably trusting the judgment of preteen boys, but I think that means the savior of the entire wizarding world is technically a Slytherin. Which would suggest that greatness and Slytherin go hand in hand.

I’ll stop now as I’m in a class. But I’m not done yet, and I shall return with Why Slytherin is The Best.

[boop-le-snoot]

masterpost • main masterlist • taglist & faq

previously on...

Chapter 1! Reader's job has no chill and Wanda means well (Tony does too), but, as we know, the road to Hell is paved with good intentions. Reader discovers the source of some peculiar things and can't help but be overcome with curiosity. F-bombs galore!

Fun fact: this story's main soundtrack is Claire de Lune, for some reason. Usually I can't stand classical music.

I didn't anticipate my first day at the bodega to be remarkful in any way but I was quickly proven wrong. My expectations were low: few customers, some of them flat-earthers of the garden variety, perhaps one or two of those 'witches' from social media blogging platforms and an overzealous Satanist or two, since I was pretty sure I saw an Ouija board and a silver pentagram hanging in Odette's office on the day of the interview.

Boy was I wrong.

We averaged a customer every fifteen minutes with each person requesting increasingly strange items: healing quartz and sage were on the closer end of normal; I felt like I had teleported to Hogwarts and was now attending Professor Snape's Advanced Potions class, having to race between the high shelves and memorize the exact location of each and every ingredient. In the end, I sacrificed a few dollars and bought one of the beautiful, leather-bound notebooks off Odette to write down the shelf and position number for the most commonly requested items and planned to begin memorizing them at home.

There's a little bit of Ravenclaw in all of us, I supposed. My curiosity only extended further: sometimes, a haggard looking person would come up and declare they had an appointment with Odette and was quickly whisked away by my boss to her office, coming out looking slightly less haggard in about half an hour or so.

I adapted to the routine fairly quickly, choosing to make my personal peace with the strange customers and Odette's mysterious meetings: after all, I got the job because I needed money - who was I to judge her for doing Tarot readings and spiritual séances for an extra dollar?

The bodega's atmosphere did grow on me rather quickly, as I had thought it would. It was warm and homely even on the rainiest afternoons, there was an unlimited supply of herbal tea, free of charge, and I grew to appreciate it just like I learned to find the positives in my job at the café. That remained a constant, mildly interesting affair too - my regulars, especially the superheroes, had started coming in during the morning hours and we were able to resume our chit-chats without a hitch.

Wanda still fished for my most recent, memorable reading and Dr. Banner left his incomprehensible scribbles on every napkin within an arm's reach for me to return to him on his next visit. The fully grown man with multiple PhDs didn't fail to blush like a schoolgirl every single time it happened, causing Mr. Stark to double on his own salacious jokes, should the engineer have had come with. They often came together, blabbering things I couldn't even fathom understanding even with the help of Google.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Wanda sounded surprisingly chipper for it was freaking seven in the morning.

I blanched, banging my arm against the display door painfully with a softly muttered, "Fuck!".

The witch frowned. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," I muttered, hoping my face wasn't portraying the mixture of confusion and fear that I felt. "Something weird happened at my other job yesterday, I'm still processing," I replied honestly, looking to the side.

In fairness, I didn't know what to think. The situation wasn't something that should have shocked me, with aliens and magic people an abundance in NYC, but seeing it with my own two eyes had been jarring.

A limping, paranoid young man had arrived for an appointment with Odette shortly before closing time; I had escorted him to her office without as much as a blink, only noticing he was dripping oddly colored blood when the door behind him had closed. I cleaned it up, dead set on confronting Odette about the obviously injured person - the blood, it was more of an attempt to clean it, since it merely stuck to the rag, refusing to wash off it with water or any of the organic cleaning solutions kept under the sink.

I had to leave the rag in a paper bag, acutely aware of the fact it could not have belonged to a normal person. My best guess was that a man was a mutant - NYC had plenty of them living behind a blue wall. Odette's office wasn't soundproof: I heard a pained yelp and then a vocalisation of relief as whatever was causing the man to bleed had been removed. In a few minutes while I was closing the cash register, he came out looking almost brand new - and as I paid him a more careful look, he was missing his scleras, leaving his eyes to look slightly terrifying.

And then he winked at me, a surprisingly human, boyish gesture - the smile that crawled up my face was purely automatic. I was sure it looked frozen. He disappeared without a word as Odette herself emerged from the backrooms, a tired sheen to her brow.

"Did you manage to clean up?" She asked, eyebrows raised at the lack of stains on the hardwood floors.

"It stuck to the rag," I replied, eyeing her warily. "The rag is in the unmarked bag next to the sink. I didn't know what else to do with it."

"Sometimes it does that," her sigh was very telling. This was to be expected to become a regular occurrence. She motioned for the notebook I got to keep track of everything in the store, rattling off a recipe for a cleaner and solvent combo, made purely from the items she had inside the store, giving me stern instructions to add the ingredients in the exact order I was told. I sighed but added the footnote. Odette was a far cry from the greasy git from Hogwarts so she deserved the benefit of the doubt at least.

I didn't dare to ask any more questions about the strange man; not that day, not after I had suprised Wanda with a quick recap of my story. It's not like I had anything against mutants - as long as they were peaceful and didn't harm humans with their abilities, I was content to co-habit, share my space and even be friends with them. A very nice old lady who came by three times a week had gills peeking out of the top of her turtleneck and she was just the most polite, sweetest thing.

Wanda's curiosity was understandable and not suspicious in any way: I was under the impression she was a mutant, too, along with her twin brother - so the feeling of dread that blossomed within me as soon as the two suited figures entered the small store I attributed to the larger size of the man and vulture eyes of the woman. They both appeared extremely out of place with their black two-pieces and badly hidden pistol holsters, topped off with badges I couldn't take a good look at without losing my customer service facade.

I decided to play it dumb, self-conscious of the thudding of my heart in my ribcage. My body screamed 'danger' at me. "Hello, how can I help you?"

The woman cast an observant look over me, my plain clothes, lingering on my star-patterned scarf and matching hair band. "Are you the owner of this store?"

"No," I frowned, not liking where this was going. "Do you have an appointment with Odette?"

"We'd like to see her," the man pointedly moved his arm, exposing the gun and the badge.

I dropped the nice act, staring him down in earnest. I never liked self-righteous, pushy government officials; even less so, when they didn't follow protocol and started the conversation with demands instead of proper introductions. As I shot a quick text to Odette, noting that there were 'strange people in uniform' looking for her, my suspicions were only confirmed when the woman looked around the store with eyes that knew what they were looking for. Those two definitely weren't cops or even feds, they were straight up shady.

Odette all but flew to the bodega, the imposing, suffocating aura I'd seen only once on full display. It was hard to breathe standing so close to her; with muted satisfaction, I noticed both agents squirm, their fingers twitching, as they took in shuddering inhales through their, undoubtedly, lying mouths.

The whole spectacle was over quickly. I had managed to serve and quickly usher out Ike, one of the Satanists (yes, we did, in fact, have a few of those as regulars) with his paper bag full of powdered goat horn and a fresh cat skull under his armpit before the curtains parted and the two agents left without saying a word. I thought their eyes looked - wrong, like glass marbles, dull, lifeless and unseeing.

Odette dismissed my worries with a frivolously waved hand: "They won't be bothering us anytime soon," closing the door to her office - it reeked of strong incense and horseradish, for some reason. Like she'd been making some hell salad in front of the two nosy officials.

I took a deep breath in and then a deep breath out. The weirdness should've bothered me more, I knew, but I couldn't bring myself to decide whether I wanted to know what that interaction was actually about or live in blissful ignorance, where my boss might be some sort of a mutant or an actual witch that helps other mutants.

The longer I thought about it, the louder anti-mutant propaganda articles screamed at me: children being killed or abandoned because one day, they woke up and could fly or move things with their mind; every potential situation could end up like Carrie or Brightburn - two movies so blatantly obvious in their point to instill fear against children that could grow to work alongside Earth's Mightiest Defenders.

Needless to say, my conscious calmed down pretty quickly. I had felt the hairs on my nape stand up as soon as the agents entered the room and in my experience, a reaction like that was never good. I had been taught to trust my gut.

Odette had cancelled her visits for the day, holing up in her office as the whole store rapidly filled up with the stench of horseradish, old blood and sage. The occasional noise came from the office, interrupted by mumbling, and I was quickly told to just turn up the old, vintage radio if it bothered me.

I was too busy taking in the contents of her office - the table that previously stood in the far end of it, stood in the middle, folded out into the shape of a circle. Something was drawn on it, something the color of dried blood, and there were light candles, white and blue, littered on almost every possible surface. The air was clouded with incense smoke, so thick, it made my eyes water.

Odette's grin was sardonic as she met my eyes, wide and shocked, that had previously landed on what looked like a pot- or a cauldron, emanating the strongest bitter stench that wafted even through the lead curtain of incense. No wonder the whole store reeked.

Before she gently shut the door in my face, I caught the centerfold of the whole show - an extremely large, tattered, leatherbound tome with yellowed pages and a heavy metal padlock laying next to it. Overcome by stupor, I didn't manage to make out the intricate silver letters on its cover.

Needless to say, walking home that day was an adventure. In part, I was cautious that the agents would find me, follow me home, interrogate me - I've never been arrested even by usual cops and it was unlikely that shady government agencies were delicate in their approach. A larger part of my brain was wondering about the implications of what I had seen, I'd nearly chewed off my fingernails remembering the vacant, lost face expressions on the agents' faces.

As soon as I got home, I set to do some serious googling. And find information, I did. Plethora of minor details - candle colors, herbs used, deeply individual incantations and mythical deities that chose to work with a particular witch. It was nothing short of a whole science; I'd go as far as to say it was a complete lifestyle. The use of magick bled into every aspect of daily life, from sleep to food to communication with others.

Part of me felt incredulity at the implication of sacrificing so much to get results that might be the opposite of the ones desired. A larger, braver part of me - the very same that used to push me to explore abandoned buildings with my friends and drink booze given by a stranger - admired the work and the dedication my boss and her kind put into their work.

Having received my first paycheck and successfully having made it through rent day without having to make excuses, my conscious allowed me to treat myself to a few items - I decided to give into my curiosity and placed an order for a few books on modern witchcraft, happily waiting for the package to arrive next afternoon. I went to sleep with my head full and a new world at my feet to explore.

The books were late - or more like, never showed. The refund couldn't come soon enough. My curiosity began to reach unbearable levels the longer I worked the front desk at Odette's. These days I didn't need much assistance anymore, ready to help any new or returning customer with the help of my notebook. Time after time, I noticed a certain working order, a pattern to things if you may - and was able to recommend a few things here and there. In short, I stepped over my initial apprehension and dove into the world of natural remedies and energetic manipulation headfirst.

It made all the sense that Odette would start to take absence from the bodega as my training progressed. On the days she had fewer or no appointments, she would don her favourite scarf and trot out the front door, large purse in tow, to run errands or restock on the rare, pricy items that couldn't get delivered directly to the shop. I'd grown accustomed to locking up on my own; the spare key to the entrance door was my pride and joy, the dull silver a warm comfort hanging on a chain around my neck. Its antique design made a fairly pretty necklace.

The customer coming to pick up a special order hardly disrupted my time. I had Janis Joplin blaring from the old radio, my skirt swayed to the rhythm of the song together with me. The elevated mood while working in the shop was something I appreciated fully - with a kind smile, I departed for the backrooms to search for the package with the customer's name, not finding it anywhere near the proper place. A call later, I was opening Odette's office and extracting the paper-wrapped shoebox from the fridge, passing it into the customer's arms with utmost care: 'FRAGILE. KEEP REFRIGERATED AT ALL TIMES.' read on it in Odette's sharp cursive.

The bell above the door rang as the woman departed but I was already inching behind the curtain, overcome by sudden inquisitiveness.

The book. It stood right in the middle of Odette's desk, shut, but missing its padlock, beckoning with the thick gothic letters spelling out 'PRACTICAL ALCHEMY'. I noticed it as soon as I stepped into the office, confused and puzzled by my own unbearable desire to approach it immediately. I knew something was amiss, yet, my legs had a mind of their own and my hands firmly placed themselves upon the heavy cover of the book, seemingly without the input from my brain.

"What the hell..." I muttered to myself, finding the books contents to be - for the lack of a better word - peculiar. "Protect a babe born on all Hallows Eve..." I numbly mouthed the first words that my eyes registered. The pages made a soft noise as my shaking fingers turned them, one after the other. "Bestow healing upon a barren womb... Punish a thief..." There were - spells, and potions, and so many plants I've never even heard about before.

The pages turned and handwritings changed - at the start, words were written out precisely, the cursive neat and sharp, obviously written by an ink pen. Some things were scribbles, pencil or charcoal, so barely intelligible I had to guess about a third of the words written. Towards the end of the book pages made with a typewriter appeared - blocky letters and numbers, language modern, ash and cigarette smell coming from the paper.

I couldn't believe what I was seeing. The longer my hands touched the pages, the stronger the tingling sensation became - I failed to notice it at first, attributing it to the exhilaration of finding something so strange yet so precious, but as I was finishing a page that contained a fairly short spell for protection of a witches' home, the discomfort of my palms rose into a mild stinging pain.

"Fuck," I yelped, casting a look at my fingers. They were hot, angry, as if I had briefly touched boiling oil - and the skin on my fingertips began to blister, little white pustules forming where I had gingerly held the pages of the book in place. "What the fuck?" Was my reasonable question to nobody in particular.

The books contents were, no doubt, interesting but I was more concerned with the state of my hands - had I ignored the pain for five more minutes, I might have had to go to the hospital to treat what was beginning to look like a second-degree burn. I slammed it shut none-too-gently, placing it exactly as I found it and winced when barely a second of touching it brought on more excruciating pain.

The healing peppermint oil salve I knew people bought for mild burns only soothed the initial sting, so I had to suffer until I clocked out, stopping by a drugstore on my way home to purchase some much-needed burn cream. And while it didn't make it worse, I knew that my next day at work was going to be Hell.

Most thankful, however, I was to my voice-to-text option on my cell. Not only it allowed me to communicate with my friends without hurting my abused skin even more, but it also dutifully saved the short, simple spell that was supposed to protect my house. There was no harm in trying it, I supposed, after seeing what I didn't doubt was the book's own protection wreak havoc on my snoopy little hands.

The tag list is open until the story is finished.

@couldntbedamned @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @mostly-marvel-musings @persephonehemingway @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites

[harry-potter-fics-stuff]

Anonymous asked:

ooh femslash fics please. maybe some hcs on hogwarts girls in love, and how they survived during the umbridge era

Here’s the thing: we all know Dolores Umbridge is homophobic. She’s the type to be prejudiced and this is just one of the many beliefs she holds.

She genuinely does not think through the loophole of the decree declaring that boys and girls remain eight inches apart. When she sees same-sex couples floating around the hallways, she makes a decree declaring that nobody can be within eight inches of each other.

But Hogwarts is a school of magic and soon the female students band together in a show of solidarity against the most foul, horrid woman (whom they shudder to share the same gender with) who has ever walked its halls.

Parvati and Lavender are beautifully in-sync as always. When Trelawney is fired, they lie together in their bed (which bed? their two beds are basically one) and dream up future universes. They start planting tea leaves on Umbridge’s desk, shaped like all sorts of weapons and curse movements, and pour the tea itself on the floor. They break crystal balls and leave glass shards on her chair. They carve Trelawney’s initials into her cat pictures with their perfectly painted nails. Their love for the only teacher who has never mocked their overt femininity and interest for Divination turns out to be the thing that makes them realize their love for each other.

Luna and Ginny balance each other out. One is calm and serene, and the other feisty and fiery. Umbridge makes the mistake of insulting Xenophilius Lovegood in front of everyone in the class. Luna does not react, but later that evening she lets loose a series of creatures previously thought non-existent in Umbridge’s office (both at Hogwarts and the Ministry). Ginny steals all of Umbridge’s quills and replace them with ones that don’t cut into students’ skin, but mails the blood quills to the French ministry of magic (being the future sister-in-law to the Delacours has this one advantage).

Hermione and Pansy are unlikely allies. They bond together after Umbridge hurls insults at Pansy’s habit of mouthing off to everybody and makes comments about her mother. Pansy is enraged, but she is a Slytherin beyond her rage, and she decides to join the Squad when Umbridge offers. She meets up with Hermione in the library and asks for help in taking the pink-clad woman down. Hermione takes little time to realize that Pansy makes a very good spy. She can always be sure to avoid Umbridge and Malfoy and their cronies. It turns out, too, that Pansy is great at DADA when Umbridge is not here - and she helps Hermione annotate textbooks to distribute to other students. And if Pansy demands a kiss for her service? It’s the least Hermione can do, after all.

Marietta, in this timeline, is not recruited into any group. Cho knows that she wouldn’t join. Instead she is to give Cho information about the Ministry, so Cho can keep others safe and think of ways to counteract against the Ministry’s propaganda. She talks a lot about Cedric’s death, and though it hurts her, she knows it’s ultimately best that others know about the bravest and sweetest boy she’s ever had the honor to know.

Padma, Lisa Turpin and Sue Li hide behind their books as befits a Ravenclaw girl. The thing is, though, nobody really checks to see what they’re reading as long as the cover isn’t anything too suspicious. They sneak copies of the Quibbler while disguising it as Witch Weekly. They bring in books that Umbridge had banned and give it out to other students, making sure to have translation spells for those who read best in their mother tongue.

Hannah, Susan and Megan Jones benefit from the reputation of their house. Nobody suspects them of anything, since they’re the quiet ones at the back of the room who don’t do much. They’re the ones who secretly rearrange Umbridge’s belongings, shifting them slightly to the left or right. They also ensure to befriend Peeves, keeping him a vital ally.

Millicent Bulstrode, Tracey Davis, and the Greengrass sisters are the most terrifying quartet who have ever thrived together in Slytherin. The most close-knit group of female friends in the nineties. They all infiltrate the Inquisitorial Squad and take it down from the inside, causing chaos. Plus, with Death Eaters for close relatives, they know best how to cause pain discreetly.

Lily Moon and Sally-Anne Perks are the ones nobody see coming. They are the ones who bring everyone together. The soft-spoken peacemakers who grew up in households where women wielded power through appearances of docility. They’re the ones who attract Umbridge’s praise and take up her time. They’re the ones who calm any disagreements.

Romilda Vane and Leanne, who finally confessed their feelings for each other, are the ones who keep everything running. They distribute Skiving Snackboxes, Dungbombs and Fanged Frisbee’s. They write anonymous, threatening letters to Fudge and Umbridge. Romilda, the most talented potioneer of her year, brews all sorts of non-fatal but terribly inconvenient potions to be slipped into Umbridge’s food. Leanne, who has a criminal record in the Muggle world for stealing, nicks all of Umbridge’s Veritaserum and Spellotape and cat plates. She also plants a little artifact in Umbridge’s fireplace so that smoke blows at her face each time she attempts to contact anybody.

Angelina, Alicia and Katie (the queens of Gryffindor, the cutest ship and the third wheel/captain/may or may not be with them) run Quidditch practices for anyone who wants to hone their skills or pick up a new sport. They get brooms from Merlin-knows-where and make sure that everybody’s safe and that nobody gives anything away. And ultimately the trio are so nice that nobody really wants to anyway.

Minerva McGonagall, Aurora Sinistra, Pomona Sprout, Charity Burbage, Bathsheda Babbling, Septima Vector and Poppy Pomfrey (or as the students call them, the seven wonders of the castle) may or may not be working to help them as best they can. Poppy heals all the injuries, Charity instructs the girls who were raised by Muggles how best to blend into the wizarding world, Pomona gifts them plants and teaches them the coded language of flowers, Minerva transfigures the evidence of what goes on into innocuous things (and helps a lot herself), Septima and Aurora keep a lookout for Umbridge and those that sympathize with her, and Bathsheda is the one to teach runic codes to help students communicate.

Ultimately, Dolores Umbridge leaves. She never sees the girls working behind the scenes, whispering in darkness, writing coded notes, kissing and holding hands and loving each other and blossoming in adolescence. It’s only when she’s in Azkaban, reading articles from days-old newspapers, that she realizes just how much she has underestimated the majority of her former students.

[mostlikelyshutup]

thoughts while watching the first harry potter:

listen i started this list a little late im ngl but notable thoughts so far are me thinking of dumbledore as a gay idiot and still loving hagrid

do you think hes speaking in parseltongue in the zoo when hes speaking to the snake

forgot boats existed

these idiots do scream a lot dont they

i forgot how light hearted this universe really is in the first couple movies

yer a wizard harry, okay hagrid maybe slide him into it a little better

we get it tuney you have fucking trauma, doesnt mean you should abuse a child

hasnt everyone had their name down since they were born, hagrid? theres a list

i like that his umbrella is pink

are you paying for those damages hargid? stop taking the door off the hinges

though, if the dursleys are, keep breaking shit

speaking about dragons on the the fucking tube, its a miracle harry didnt get in trouble with the ministry sooner

what is hagrid's usual? does anyone know???

fucking Quirrell, cant wait for your epic love story with the dark lord

maybe we should tell the 12 year old how the fuck everyone knows his name, just maybe

they do a great job of getting the wonder down pat

how much money and licensing do you think it took for them to get all these owls on set

ahh yes, antisemitism the bank

how many vaults are in gringotts?? also if harry's vault is the potters vault, a literal like sacred 28 family, one of the original families, and its number 600 something, how many were there before the potters?? did the potters get a vault recently? or is this james and lily's vault?? how rich were james and lily if so??

look at ollivander, crazy tinker uncle, love him

this might be the socialist in me but why do people have to pay for wands if everyone needs one??

why is the dark lords twin wand just sitting around on the shelf, ollie me boy??

do you think thats Harry's true wand or do you think thats because of the horcux thing?? do you harry had to get another wand after he died?? did he? i dont remember the last movie

is ollie me boys actor wearing contacts or are his eyes just like that??

thats a very weird way of showing Halloween 81, very misleading

hagrid said ill predict voldys rise in the first movie so we can have some plot development

hagrid is late to everything isnt he? i can feel it in my bones

i swear ive seen these movies, and ive even read the first book, i just dont remember shit

youd think theyd have someone in the know stationed close to the entrance for the platform, for any muggleborns

ginnys actress really had no fucking lines in this movie did she, just had to stand there

oh wait she said good luck

amazing work ginny

ooh a warm filter

can muggles see the express? like just running from london to scotland

wicked!

you didnt have to show the woman the sad sandwich ron

i think the trolly replenishes magically, i think thats how thats how that works, i want to believe that

god i cant tell if i would love or hate hermione, shes pretentious but so was i at that age

god dont fucking point your wand right in someones face mione

how does mione know who harry is?? why does she care?

look at the tiny first years, might just go and pinch theyre cheeks

MINNIEEEE i love you minnie

looking stunning minnie, the green brings out the sternness in your brow

you go minnie, give your speech, thats my head of house

shut up draco, youre not bond

you pretentious fuckwit, your hair is brassy anyways

if this is a class of kids born in the middle of a war, how big are the usual class sizes wtf

THE FUCKING CLAP

fucking propaganda ron, you slytherin hater

what order are these names going in, did they just randomized the list

oooh we get quiet for the boy who lived, jesus let him keep living

the fact that for the rest of these people its just silent is so fucking funny to me, Harry's just fucking whispering to himself

get their attention minnie

me dads a muggle, mums a witch, bit of a shock for him when he found out

NICK, love to see you buddy

i have no emotional attachment to peeves but i feel i should mention him here

the stairs still piss me off, why the fuck would you make moving stair cases

who sets out gloves for the next day? am i the weird one who doesnt??

Minnie, you are the love of my life

shut up snape you dramatic bloodpurist incel

i know theyre setting him up to be mistaken as the villain but jesus christ hes still an asshole

your robes Neville, you forgot your robes

its weird how they have to learn all these latin charms yet only have to say up to get their brooms to work

why wont you go after him, hes obviously not exactly in control, Hooch

does Hooch only teach first years? she is quite literally the equivalent of a history teacher who coaches football

what the fuck is Quirells classroom

they dont make the house teams because no first years can try out, Ron

MINNIE PLAYED QUIDDITCH?!?!? WHY DIDN'T I KNOW THIS

why didnt you speak up earlier Mione wtf

bc the fire wont give you away, harry, better hide

FLUFFY, WHOS A GOOD BOY

they have much worse things locked up in the school, Ron

Oliver wood is a bloody liar because i still dont fuckign understand quidditch, also theres like 500 rules, wtf

thats a shitty explanation of how the game works, Oliver

BLOW IT UP SEAMUS

SHES TWO FEET BEHIND YOU RON YOU IDIOT

carrot cake? on halloween?

dont shrug as if you didnt literally bully her ron

thought youd oughta know, bit of an understatement Quirell

no duh the trolls left the dungeon ron

lying: the best start to any friendship

we're at a net zero points for gryffindor for the year at the moment

the amount of interaction these kids have with professors is so weird to me, is this what small class size do to kids?? its weird

not comforting Oliver

Okay i understand Oliver simps now, I get it okay

are there no backups or subs for quidditch? feels like there should be, like of all the games

set him on fire mione, i know hes not the villain of the movie but god he sucks

fancy flying from harry fucking potter

okay but also i feel like there are some things we should not trust hagrid with, like hes not that great at keeping secrets

why is harry excited about christmas if he thinks hes not getting presents? i knw there are other aspects but like thats the only reasont o get up early

i always remember this scene at night for some reason??

not just an invisibility cloak, THE invisibility cloak ron

btw who gives it to harry? is it remus? is it dumbledore? is it like an inheritance thing? whats up with that?

there are jumpscares in harry potter

he very much can hide, filch

stop being a narc mrs norris

does harry even know what his parents look like at this point? how does he know who the fuck is in the mirror of erised?? he doesnt have that stupid scrapbook yet does he

oh they nod, sure lets clear up that plot hole

they shouldve put sirius and remus in the mirror in that scene, shown his whole family, wouldve been a nice setup

how does rupert grint already look so tired as a twelve year old

big speech to give to a twelve year old Dumbledore, when you wont even tell him what you see

Emma really does just slam that book on Daniels hand, thats mustve fucking sucked

the fact that ive watched two movies that had Nicholas Flamel in two very different roles this year is very strange to me

well thats probably on account of it being a fucking dragon egg hagrid, now isnt it?

was hagrid a hufflepuff? i think he was, maybe a ravenclaw

yes four, you blonde idiot

that shot is really nice, it sets them apart

what happened to filch to make him such a miserable man?

ooh mention of werewolves, awooo werewolves of london

yeah just dip your whole hand in hagrid, dont be scared of the strange liquid, take a nice little bath

i loev that dog, i want that dog, i want to hug that dog

god just the look of that forest is so bloody cool

wait so is that quirell walking fucking backwards?

maybe ask who the fuck youre talking to before asking other questions??? wtf harry

why are yout talking to the centaur like hes your old friend harry, youve literally never met him before

snape doesnt want the stone at all Harry

god hagrid you sweet stupid man

snape is completely valid for that, if a twelve year old ever looked at me like that i would punch them

Do you think people ever loose invisibility cloaks? like theyre invisible do you think they ever just never get found again

i hate the look of the dog spit, that is so gross

they really left everything in except for the fucking potions didnt they, damn

harry potter walked so queens gambit could run

hermione, posted up

rons stupid in the later movies because he got a concussion as a twelve year old

god harry really posted up to beat up snape in fucking khakis

"I knew you were a danger to me!" Hes twelve, Quirell

let me wait for this weird dude to unravel his head scarf instead of running away

the magic in this movie is real fucking conditional isnt it

just some casual necromancy for the stone? you sure about that voldy, you two faced bitch?

let me choke out this twelve year old real quick

oh yeah why is he able to just avengers endgame Quirell? is there an answer to that? like was that ever found out

do you think voldy passing by him while he hold the stone actually killed him but since he holds the stone hes functionally unkillable and then some magic gets put into him and thats why he can return to life later when he actually goes to the whole afterlife place?

ohhh we're vouching on the blood magic for the endgaming of Quirell

do you think dumbledore came across the vomit flavored bean before or after his sister died?

Mione's got a headband! Looking snazzy!

how did Hufflepuff only get 352 points? Gryffindor literally lost 150 points this year and they only beat them by 50, wtf, is it because they kept getting caught with weed

I wont even speak on the fucking outrage that is this point awarding, its already been spoken on. However, Neville shouldve gotten more points

What if someone just stood up and started challenging Dumbledores math, that would be so funny

some of these extras are really attractive

but james potter is somehow so fucking ugly why did they do that to my mans

hagrid deserves the last shot of this film, i love him, he deserves everything, that stupid sweet man

[firestartersan]

AEW Dynamite (6/11/21)

I like the program Matt and Christian are developing. The opening match was good.

The Cody interview was effective. I liked how they set up Brock to succeed. QT is good at being a prick.

I loved the Trios match between The Elite and PAC/Penta/Kingston. I enjoyed Frankies post visit.

The propaganda piece by Kenny and Don was funny.

The Pinnacle's group program was good. MJF closed it out strong. The Inner Circle did their typical pressed antics...it was effective tho.

Darby and Sting's vignette hit different from everything else on the show. I felt tension in it. Obviously Darby going solo temporarily isn't Ravenclaw thinking.

Evil Uno's pre-match vignette was really good. The match vs Miro was GOOD. Miro is killing it.

Andrade's vignette was a step up from last week. Keep building up momentum.

The Kenny and Jungle Boy segment did exactly what it needed to do. More build for Jungle Boy's threat level.

Page/Sky said their piece and bounced.

Mark and Jade were fun together.

Leyla vs Nyla was one of the best matches on the card. DMD brought the heat in her promo.

The main event landed with me. I enjoyed seeing Ricky slap fire out of Cage. Time to get him out of the group. The final image of the episode was sweet.

[anotherunreadblog]

ALl the harry potter asks for Kat?

1. What is their blood status (pureblood, muggleborn, etc)? What are their thoughts on the concept of blood status?

Kat grew up hearing about blood purity, but never from inside her house. The Potters never ascribed to the ideology, but Kat was aware of it and how her family stood up against anyone who tried to push

2. What is their wand wood and core?

Ebony and Phoenix Feather. 

3. Do they bring a pet to Hogwarts with them?

Her first year, Kat brings the family cat, Tabitha. In Kat’s fourth year, Tabitha dies of old age and after that her pet is an owl named Alistair.

4. What Hogwarts house were they sorted into? Why did the hat put them in that house over the others? Was it a quick sorting or a hatstall? Are they happy with their sorting? What Hogwarts house would they least fit into?

Sorting happens in alphabetical order, I think? So James is sorted in Gryffindor right before Kat’s sorting, they were already hoping to get Gryffindor, but when he’s sorted Kat knows there’s no way she isn’t going in the same house as her twin.

So when the hat touches her head it tells her “Gryffindor, huh?” and he tells her and it might do her good to not be in her brother’s shadow, but she’s made up her mind and it’s a good fit so he gives her what she wants. The whole thing is 15 seconds max. 

Kat would least fit into Ravenclaw, she might be witty and a talented student, but she doesn’t give much importance to those things. Unlike her loyalty that rivals a Hufflepuff’s or her resourcefulness and leadership skills that would make her a great Slytherin.

5. What subject is their favorite at Hogwarts? Which is their least favorite? Is their favorite the same as their best subject?

Kat’s fave is DADA, anything that can help her in a duel. She doesn’t have green thumb so herbology is a bit of a struggle. She’s slightly above average in lots of classes, but the only ones where she comes close to top of the class are Transfiguration and DADA.

6. What electives do they chose in third year?

Care of Magical Beasts and Muggle Studies, she on particularly good terms with her Muggles Studies professor because Kat is very invested in the class and there’s debate on abolishing the class and whether or not it’s “muggle propaganda” during the war. 

7. Do they earn more house points or do they lose more?

She definitely loses more because of pranks or fights she picks with Slytherins, however she does earn some of them back in class. 

8. How do they do on their OWLs? On their NEWTs?

She does pretty well on her OWLs, but by the time she has to take her NEWTs it’s clear her focus is on the war and not her grades so she does okay, but not because she studied.

9. Thoughts on Quidditch? Do they play? And if so what position do they play?

Kat is the Quidditch commentary from her third year and on. She is the official alternate for the Gryffindor seeker though, so twice in her time at Hogwarts she replaces an injured seeker. 

10. What Wizarding treat (bertie botts, chocolate frogs, etc.) is their favorite?

She’s a big fan of chocolate frogs. Doesn’t really care for the cards, she just likes that they jump. And Peter a keeps a constant stock of Bertie Botts in the boy’s dorms so it is a comfort candy. 

Chocolate Cauldrons are at the top of her list though, it’s chocolate AND Firewhisky it speaks for itself. 

11. What is their Patronus? What happy memory do the use to conjure it?

Her patronus is a fox, same as her Animagus form just like Jame’s patronus matches his animagus form. She has two memories she goes back to in order to conjure her Patronus. Either when the Marauders finished the map or when they all mastered their Animagi forms, they’re both very happy because she’s the proudest and the closest to her friends in those moments. 

12. What is their Boggart? What happens to it when they cast Riddikulus?

I got more into her Boggart and it’s origin in this ask. Basically it’s a monster that sorts of resemble a dementor over Jame’s body. When she casts Riddikulus, the monster turns into a cloak that falls on a now alive James, that struggles to get out from under it, flailing about like he does when he gets stuck in his invisibility cloak.

13. What does Amortentia smell like to them?

The Potter’s summer home in Godric’s Hollow, the Quidditch pitch after a rainy day, and leather. 

14. What spell is their favorite? Which do they use the most?

Hard one, she loves offensive spells like Stupedy or Expulso. But the spell she uses the most on the regular is more likely Accio or minor transfiguration spells.

15. If they needed it, what form would the Room of Requirement take for them?

Probably a place to hide from Finch when she’s sneaking around after curfew.

16. If they trained as an Animagus what form would they take?

She does train with the rest of the Marauders and her form is a red fox.

17. What do they do/want to do after Hogwarts?

Before shit hits the fan and her priority became being an activit and fighting in the war she would have probably said Quidditch Referee or Curse-Breaker.

18. Which Unforgivable Curse would they be most likely to use? What would be the reason for it?

Kat has been under the Cruciatus Curse during her sixth year, so she knows how terrible it is and would never use it on anyone ever. 

19. Which Unforgivable Curse would they hate to have used on them the most?

The Cruciatus Curse, it was an absolute nightmare the first time around, when she learns what happened to the Longbottom’s she is chilled to the bone.

20. Which Deathly Hallow (wand, stone, or cloak) would they want? Why?

The cloak, having been read the Death Hallow as a child she knows the lesson is death always wins and the cloak is the only way to escape him. Plus, it’s cool and useful to sneak out at night in Hogwarts. Which she knows because James literally owns the cloak.

[bouwrites]

Show Your Fangs: Chapter 14

Devourer

First, Previous, Last.

Ao3.

Story under read-more.

“Harry!” Harry is once more tackled in a crushing hug, but this one he meets head on, just as eager for it as the boy embracing him. “I missed you!”

It’s only been a few days, but… Harry misses Michael, too. A lot. “I missed you, too,” he breathes. “What’re you doing here?”

Michael grins. “Susan and Terry talked our way into visiting. We had our last exam today, so the adults agreed to let us come this far. Whether we actually go into the Ministry with you is your choice, though.”

“Of course, I want you there!”

Harry doesn’t think twice about showing how familiar he is with the Ravenclaw boys in front of Susan, who arrives with the rest of them, since Susan assumes they know each other anyway from how she tells them to contact Harry when the charges against him are dropped rather than looking for Ron and Hermione.

Maybe… they talk through letters sent through Anthony’s relatives, and get to know each other that way? That might work. He’ll let Terry come up with something if Susan asks, though. Terry’s the best at improvising reasonable excuses.

And he’s nervous about going to listen to this prophecy. Having the boys and Susan there puts him at ease way more than Theseus and Madam Bones can. Not that he doesn’t trust the adults, he knows those two are good ones, but his friends just have his back in a way the adults can’t.

“Did Ron give you your cloak back?” Anthony asks. “I noticed he and Hermione left the castle when you came back to pick up your things.”

“He did,” Harry confirms.

Terry makes a face like he really wants to not trust Ron and Hermione and is put out that they prove their trustworthiness in that regard. Michael is the same way. Anthony rolls his eyes. “Ignore those two. Here.” And from his pocket, Anthony pulls out a folded bit of parchment. “Figured you’d want this back with your things, too.”

“Thanks, Anthony.” Harry takes it like a treasure. Harry honestly doesn’t consider it – he figures he’ll pick the map up when he gets back to Hogwarts for sixth year – but he feels better having it back in his hands. A weight he doesn’t realize is there lifts from his heart.

Susan lifts her brow at the inconspicuous scrap of parchment being treated like something so important, and the mention of an equally important cloak, but thankfully doesn’t ask.

“Ready to go, everyone?” asks Theseus. “We need to leave soon if we’re to make it to the Ministry on time.”

“Oh, wait!” Michael exclaims. “I want to do something first!” He takes a deep breath, grabs both of Harry’s hands in his and looks him intently in the eye. After a beat, a quiet breath, his brow furrows and his dark eyes dart to the side at everyone else. “Get out.”

Anthony balks and swiftly retreats. Terry, thoroughly amused, grins at Harry and gives him two thumbs up as he backs out of the room. Susan rolls her eyes with a wry smirk and tells Harry it’s good to see him as she follows the others’ lead.

Theseus just openly laughs and tells them not to take too long before he’s out the door and shutting it behind him.

“…Michael?” Harry asks tentatively.

Michael turns back to him, grins that familiar grin Harry loves to see, and says, “So, Harry… I’ve wanted to ask you this for a while, but I didn’t think I should until you were cleared and could go out without being a cat.”

Harry blinks. What is happening right now?

“Will you let me take you on a date?”

Oh.

Oh.

Oh, “Yeah,” Harry breathes dumbly. His voice comes out a bit like he’s just struck in the chest by a hippogriff, but he doesn’t hesitate to answer. “Yeah, I’d love that.”

Michael really just asks him…?

“Really?” Harry can’t help but ask.

Michael’s cheeks pink. “Honestly,” he says, “remember when I had to take some time to sort through how I felt about everything? After I found out you’re Tiger? Well, one of the things I figured out then is that I kind of fancy you. Like I said, I didn’t think I should say anything until all the mess with the Ministry being after you was sorted out. You had more than enough to deal with without thinking about trying to date while on the run. But I promised myself I’d ask when you were cleared, so… now’s the time.

“That’s okay? You really mean to say yes?”

“Yes,” Harry laughs. “Of course, I’ll go out with you.”

“Ha! Yes!” Michael throws himself at Harry once more, landing in a tight embrace. “A proper date might have to wait until we’re in America, but don’t worry, I’ll think of something for us to do.”

“I figured,” Harry says. And he does. There isn’t much opportunity for them to get together before term officially ends or even after while Harry will be studying for his own exams in the Scamander household while Michael is getting ready to leave for his internship. “But we’ll have all summer together.”

“I know! I’m so excited! You just wait, Harry, I’m going to sweep you off your feet.”

That’s a bold thing to say. Harry flushes a little not because of Michael’s confidence in that statement, but because of his own secret acknowledgement that Michael has already succeeded.

“Come on.” Michael lets go only enough to slide his hand down Harry’s arm and lace their fingers together as he starts for the door. “Mr. Theseus said we can’t take too long. We have to get to the Ministry.”

That’s true. Harry lets himself be pulled along by the gravity of Michael’s beaming smile.

When they leave the room, Terry looks at Michael’s expression, their joined hands, and Harry’s dazed look, and says, “It went well, then?”

“Please, like you ever doubted.” Anthony rolls his eyes. “You two. I’m happy for you and everything, but keep the funny business to the Gryffindor dorms. Please.”

Harry instantly turns scarlet, suddenly imagining getting into… funny business with Michael. Michael laughs it off, though. “But what if he’s sorted into Ravenclaw this time?”

Anthony grabs Michael by the collar. “You will silence your curtains,” he growls.

Terry snorts. “Anthony’s hairy heart aside, seriously do silence the curtains, guys. I don’t want to hear it, either.”

“Guys!” Harry squeaks.

“If we get to that point,” Michael says easily, “we’ll remember to silence the curtains. But seriously, guys, he’s only agreed to one date.”

Anthony and Terry share a significant look. Harry drops his head into his hands. Is he that obvious?

“You guys are cute,” Susan declares, which makes all four of them blush. “But we really do need to get moving. My aunt is waiting for us.”

“Right, sorry,” says Terry. “Let’s move, then.”

The whole group follows Theseus to the floo, which they have permission to use this time to enter the Ministry mostly courtesy of Madam Bones in allowance to the relatively large group they have.

Harry stumbles from the floo into the Ministry atrium, where he’s greeted by stern-faced Madam Bones herself. “Welcome back,” she says. Her expression cracks into a smile, then, and she opens her arms for Susan to give her a hug, “Hey, Susan.”

Susan smiles at her aunt but quickly brushes past the greetings. “Let’s go, auntie. I know you’re dying to hear this prophecy.”

Madam Bones purses her lips. It’s clear she’s trying not to smile. “Follow me, everyone.”

She takes them all through check-in and down to the Department of Mysteries, where they are met by an Unspeakable who guides them through to an enormous, dark room filled with rows and rows of tall shelves holding orbs of all sizes. Each one is meticulously labeled.

Everyone keeps their hands close as they follow the Unspeakable through the shelves, knowing well that touching anything in the Department of Mysteries without permission is a horrible idea.

“Here we are,” announces the Unspeakable. “Potter. Only you can remove it from the shelf.”

Harry gulps as he approaches the shelf labelled ninety-seven, eyes landing on a smaller sphere that glows with a dull inner light. It’s very dusty, obviously untouched, except for small fingermarks that glow brighter from the dust being shifted. Harry nervously glances at the Unspeakable, wondering if the silent man even notices that, and wondering who tries to grab this prophecy, and what happens to them when they do.

Below the sphere on its stand, a small yellowed label lists in spidery writing a date of some sixteen years ago and below that, “S.P.T. to A.P.W.B.D. Dark Lord and (?) Harry Potter”

Summoning his courage, Harry reaches up, plucks the sphere off the shelf, and brings it down to him. He stares at it. The others move in closer around him, gazing at the orb as he brushes it free of the clogging dust.

And then, from right behind them, a drawling voice speaks.

“Very good, Potter. Now turn around, nice and slowly, and give that to me.”

Harry’s blood goes cold. He feels Michael stiffen over his shoulder. But he does turn, nice and slowly, to face the Unspeakable.

“Rookwood,” Madam Bones growls. She, like Harry, is rapidly taking stock of the situation. Black shapes emerge out of thin air all around them, blocking their way left and right, eyes glinting through slits in familiar masks. A dozen lit wand-tips are pointing directly at their hearts. “What is the meaning of this?”

“To me, Potter,” Unspeakable Rookwood repeats as he holds out his hand, palm up. “You are, after all, the only one who can safely remove the prophecy from its stand. But this is not the time or place for a battle… Give it to me, and you will be on your way, unharmed.”

“And you believe you will walk away unharmed?” Madam Bones asks imperiously. “I will have each of you in Azkaban before the day is done.”

“Not if you wish the children to leave unscathed, Madam Director,” counters Rookwood smoothly. “Or do you believe, in all your might, that you can subdue every one of us and protect them at the same time?”

Madam Bones grinds her teeth. Rookwood is right. Madam Bones can and will face down all of these Death Eaters, but she isn’t sure she can do it while preventing any of the students from getting caught in the crossfire. Even with Theseus Scamander backing her up… this situation is bad.

Harry sees Madam Bones’ moment of hesitation. He sees Terry’s pale face, hears Anthony’s breath ragged with fear, feels the tension in Michael so ready to spring.

It’s not worth it. Harry tightens his grip on the prophecy. “They walk away now,” he demands. “Then, I give it to you. One wrong move, I smash it.”

Rookwood slowly tilts his head. “The boys can leave now, as a show of good faith. Mr. Scamander will go with them. The girl stays. You can’t expect us to give up our greatest leverage against the esteemed Director, here.”

“Harry, no,” Michael hisses.

Harry hisses right back as the Death Eaters part to allow Michael, Terry, and Anthony through. “Get out,” he says. “We’ll be fine.”

Terry steps forward first, to Michael’s offense, but he shares a look with Susan, and with Madam Bones, and grabs Michael’s robe to pull him through the group of Death Eaters towards the exit. Anthony, after some hesitation, follows. Michael is all tense and coiled and his eyes beg Harry not to send him away. It breaks Harry’s heart to do it, but he needs them to be safe.

“I’ve got them,” Theseus murmurs to Harry before he too separates from the group and herds the Ravenclaw boys along.

But as soon as they’re on the other side of the Death Eaters, as soon as the ranks close once more and Harry’s grip on the prophecy starts to loosen, Susan steps up. “Rookwood, was it?” she asks.

“Miss Bones,” the Unspeakable nods in greeting.

“Susan-” Madam Bones starts in warning, but Susan ignores her.

“You’re really going to let us go?”

“The Dark Lord will deal with Potter, but now is not the time or place for that. When we have what we need… yes, you will be free to go.”

Susan hums. She taps her wand into her open palm, just like Umbridge does back in her office. “That’s good to know,” she says, sounding legitimately relieved.

“It’s too bad we don’t negotiate with terrorists.”

“Glacius!”

“Incarcerous!”

“Depulso!”

Most of the Death Eaters, who turn back to focus on Harry and Madam Bones, don’t see the three Ravenclaw boys’ spells coming. Susan smirks and shouts, “Protego!”

Ice sweeps across the floor moments before a long rope flies at speed across the whole group’s ankles, toppling them all on top of each other, and then Terry’s spell hits, blasting the pile of Death Eaters right into Susan’s shield.

Madam Bones and Harry don’t waste a second. Both shout, “Incarcerous!” immediately, tying up as many Death Eaters as they can manage in one go.

Well… that’s not what Harry plans, but he supposes they’re fighting now. He should know better than to believe those boys will actually walk away and be safe.

“Get down!” Madam Bones roars. Susan jumps atop Harry without hesitation, her arm over him, forcing him to crouch as she shields the both of them. Harry adds his wand to the shield to reinforce it.

Madam Bones whips her wand around in a large circle, water condenses in the air, following her wand’s movements like a raging tsunami. In a second, a thin stream becomes a crashing flood and the aisle they all stand in is overwhelmed.

Harry watches wide-eyed in awe behind their shield as the Death Eaters are washed up in the flood, but the shelves and prophecy orbs appear untouched. Madam Bones twists her wand and yanks back. Harry sees his breath before him. In an instant, the flood flash-freezes, locking the majority of the Death Eaters in ice.

Only a few manage to counter Madam Bones spell, but they’re immediately on the attack. “Avada-”

Michael seizes the man around the knees, tackling him to the ground before he can finish his incantation.

Anthony shouts, “Stupefy!” to block another Death Eater from attacking him in return as Terry summons Michael back by his clothes so that Theseus can smugly step up and wordlessly hit two of the remaining Death Eaters with the dancing feet spell, which makes them flail their legs uncontrollably in a comical way.

The lot of them turn to the sole remaining Death Eater, Rookwood himself. For that sublime second, it appears as if they’ve won. Then Rookwood snarls, twirls his wand in a complicated pattern, and Madam Bones’ ice explodes.

“Run, Susan!” Madam Bones’ order echoes over the cacophony of spellfire that follows. “Get the boys out! Order Gamma Violet! Scamander, you better keep those brats safe, or I’ll kill you myself!”

“Defodio! Reducto!” Susan shouts immediately, seizing Harry by his collar and shoving him forward, urging him to run through the path she creates. “Incendio Draconis!” An enormous gout of searing fire surges from Susan’s wand, filling the aisle entirely, forcing the Death Eaters to jump out of the way into a neighboring aisle. She growls, swings her wand down, and screams, “Aberto!”

The flames, which linger viciously in the air, part right down the middle, allowing Harry and Susan to dash through what feels like the inside of an oven with the flames on either side of them.

(Anthony is right. Susan is terrifying.)

Theseus bustles the two of them behind him with the rest of the kids as soon as they reach him, and the group at once turns to run. With a wink, Theseus waves his wand at the prophecy, which shakes for a moment, then pops into two identical spheres. Theseus nimbly catches the duplicate, doubles a few more, then waves his wand once more and says, “Geminio.”

“Accio Prophecy!” shouts a Death Eater. Harry conjures a shield before they finish the incantation, but two other copies of the prophecy fly through the air to the Death Eater. They victoriously grab hold of one, then recoil in horror when the orb starts duplicating again and again, burying them under a pile of fakes.

Theseus cackles at the Death Eater’s misfortune. “Flagrante!”

Harry winces as the screaming starts.

“You’re enjoying this,” Terry gasps with horror.

“I was top auror for a reason, kiddo! Ah, it’s been too long!”

The next Death Eater that catches up to them finds Michael beaning him in the face with the copy of the prophecy that Theseus gives him, and Michael’s own shout of, “Flagrante!” to make the rapidly duplicating copy heat up to burn the Death Eater on touch.

Michael gawks for a moment, then laughs. Theseus cackles madly. “You learn quick, kid!”

They spot the door, then. “Grab onto each other!” Michael shouts. Harry latches on to the back of Michael’s robes, and feels Terry grasp his forearm. Michael reaches into his pocket and draws a small clump of tightly-packed black powder. He throws it at the floor, and everything is engulfed in darkness.

They run blindly through the Instant-Darkness Powder towards where they last see the door. Anthony’s grunt implies he actually runs straight into it. There’s a tense moment of fumbling, shouts are heard from Death Eaters trying to find them, and then someone gets the door open. They tumble through. Terry gasps, “Colloportus!” the moment they slam the door behind them.

They pause to breathe for a moment. Footsteps and shouts echo from behind the door they just seal. Harry puts his ear close to the door to listen and hears Rookwood roar, “Leave him, leave him – his injuries are nothing to the Dark Lord compared to losing that prophecy. Rodolphus, Rabastan, go right – Dolohov, Jugson, the left! Damn it- Bones! Scatter! She’s alone now, surround her!”

“Will Madam Bones be alright?” Anthony asks quietly.

“Auntie will be fine,” Susan says stiffly. “But we’re not safe until we’re out of the Ministry. We’ve rested long enough. Let’s go.”

Theseus, with a bit more care, gently says, “No one gets to her position without being able to handle a few Death Eaters. We can’t worry about her.”

Anthony gulps, closes his eyes, then reluctantly nods. “Okay. Where to?”

Theseus guides them, retracing their steps through the Department of Mysteries to get back to the elevator that brings them back up to the atrium. Aside from the distant sounds of fighting deep in the Department, which fade entirely as they rise in the elevator, there is no sign of the Death Eaters pursuing them. Madam Bones evidently manages to keep them all occupied.

The atrium is empty now, though. Harry gulps thickly. Has enough time passed that this place should be empty? He doubts it. So, where do they all go?

“Harry Potter.”

Tall, thin and black-hooded, his terrible snake-like face white and gaunt, his scarlet, sli-pupiled eyes staring… Lord Voldemort appears in the middle of the hall, his wand pointing at Harry who stands frozen, quite unable to move.

“I see you have brought me my prophecy…” says Voldemort. “Accio.”

The prophecy slips out of Harry’s grip.

“Ebublio!”

The sphere’s trajectory across the hall is stopped suddenly as it is encased in a large bubble.

Voldemort, and everyone really, turns to look at the caster of the jinx. Michael pales, a manic sort of panic across his face, and he shouts, “Keepy Uppy!”

“What-?”

Theseus surges forward, hits the bubble with the prophecy high into the air, and with a flick of his wand separates himself and Voldemort from the students with a tall wall of fire that erupts from the floor.

Anthony shouts, “Grandpa!”

All the laughing glee from their battle and flight from the Death Eaters is wiped clean off of Theseus’ face. He’s dead serious, dead determined, in a way that frightens Harry deeply. It might be the first time Harry sees Theseus without that air of ease around him. This Theseus is ready for war.

Voldemort eyes him, not intimated but wary enough of someone he knows to be a talented wizard.

“Anthony,” Theseus says sternly. “I need you to keep your friends back.”

“But- Grandpa-!”

“Do as I say, Anthony.”

Anthony winces. There are tears in his eyes. “…Yes, sir.”

“A duel it is to be, then, hm?” comes Voldemort’s high, cold voice. “Very well, Theseus Scamander. Though I admit, I did not anticipate that you would be here. I thought you were content with your family in America. Such a shame. They will miss you, I’m sure.”

Theseus, stony faced, takes but a single breath. “Protego Maxima. Fianto Duri. Repello Inimicum.”

With each spell, as a translucent barrier replaces the flames, separating the entire section of the hall that the kids are at from the rest, the teenagers grow ashier and paler.

Theseus’ eyes blaze, focused on Voldemort. “You will touch these children only after I am dead.”

Voldemort is unbothered. “So eager for death, are you? Avada Kedavra.”

Theseus vanishes at once, reappearing behind Voldemort. He swings his wand, and a chunk of the statue in the center of the room breaks off and swings around at enormous speed like a club, intent for Voldemort’s head.

A silver barrier blocks the attack, crumbling the statue to dust. Voldemort raises his wand as though brandishing a whip, and a thin stream of fire lashes at Theseus.

He takes cover behind the statue, which with a tap comes to life. The statue witch and wizard step off the pedestal, and the magical creatures surrounding them scurry about, leaping off the fountain to the floor below. Conjured birds fill the air, cacophonous song so deafening it’s hard to think. After a moment, Harry can barely see straight.

Voldemort raises his attention to deal with the birds, and a dark metal chain wraps tight around his wrist, then his other wrist. One attaches itself to the statue centaur, the other in Theseus’ hand. Wasting no time, the centaur gallops off, and Theseus yanks hard, and Voldemort howls as he’s pulled in two different directions as if Theseus is trying to rip him apart.

A sharp crack, and Voldemort is gone. There’s a burst of flame above Theseus just as Voldemort reappears atop the plinth in the middle of the fountain pool.

“Look out!” Harry yells.

But even as Harry shouts, another jet of green light flies at Theseus from Voldemort’s wand and a flaming snake emerges, fangs bared mid-strike, from above.

Theseus disapparates with a crack, reappears whole and unharmed a few feet away, out of the path of both attacks. He twirls his wand. The plinth under Voldemort’s feet turns into a tusked pig that raises its head to gore him as he stumbles.

Voldemort blasts the pig away. The flaming snake swallows it whole. A moment later the snake explodes and evanesces into smoke, though the pig is also gone.

Theseus follows up by turning the water in the pool around Voldemort’s feet to ice. Voldemort raises the ice up, up, up, reaching atop his tall pillar for the prophecy orb floating high near the ceiling in Michael’s bubble.

Theseus blasts the base of the pillar with a spell that even from where Harry is makes his hair stand on end with the power of it, and Voldemort falls through the air from a great height.

He vanishes midair, appears again behind Theseus, a cutting curse leaves his wand, slices open the back of Theseus’ knee. Theseus cries out, collapses unable to support himself with that leg. Anthony whimpers, but physically restrains Michael when Michael tries to jump forward out of the cover of Theseus’ protective spells.

They all hold their breath as Voldemort walks slowly up behind Theseus. “You are more talented than I expected,” Voldemort praises. “Few can stand against me as long as you have. But still, in the end, I am the better wizard.”

Theseus’ knuckles turn white around his wand.

“What can we do?” Terry whispers. “Can we call someone? A patronus?”

“To who?” asks Susan.

“Dumbledore?” Harry hisses back.

Michael glances fiercely to them. “Do it,” he growls. “I’ll cover the light of the patronus.” He waves his wand, and Terry sends off a streaming flash of silver light that races up out of the Ministry.

“Out of respect for a skilled opponent,” says Voldemort, “I will allow you your last words to those children you failed to save…”

Theseus snarls. He spins on his injured knee, good leg extended, to physically sweep Voldemort’s legs out from under him. The moment Voldemort hits the wooden floor, Theseus is on top of him. His own wand is discarded, Voldemort’s wrenched from his grip and tossed away as well, both too far for Voldemort to easily grab and use to defend himself.

Anthony is the only one that doesn’t gasp at the horror and strangeness of witnessing a wizard wrestle Lord Voldemort to the earth like they’re both nothing more than muggles. Theseus being obviously far more familiar with physical combat, quickly pins Voldemort and raises his fist, landing one blow, then the next, to his white, gaunt, snake-like face. His other hand is tight around Voldemort’s throat. There’s blood on his bared teeth from where Voldemort strikes him with his elbow, and his face is twisted into a feral, furious rage.

Harry wonders for a moment if that’s it, if all it really takes to subdue Voldemort is to come at him like a mad muggle. But Theseus’ advantage doesn’t last. Voldemort, being physically stronger than such an old man and with Theseus still contending with his useless leg, manages to overpower Theseus and throw him off to the side.

Voldemort sweeps to his feet, rushing to where his wand lay a few meters away. Theseus crawls desperately to his own wand and grabs hold moments before Voldemort straightens. Both pairs of furious eyes meet as they round on each other once more. A brilliant, wicked axe appears whistling through the air for Voldemort’s neck. A jet of bright green light lances for Theseus.

At the very same moment that Voldemort disapparates out of the way of the axe, the cage bars of the elevator crumple and shoot between Theseus and the killing curse. A pile of smoldering scrap hits the floor a meter away, but Theseus is still alive.

Anthony makes a sound something like a sob.

From the elevator, revealing just who saves Theseus in the nick of time, Amelia Bones storms into the hall. She has a bad burn peeking over the collar of her robes, crawling up her neck. She has the slightest of limps, and her robes are torn and tattered. Her hair is wild, loosened from the tight bun it’s usually in and fluttering around her like there’s a swift breeze. But considering she comes from a fight with something like twelve Death Eaters, she looks remarkably unscathed.

“Voldemort,” she barks. “It was a mistake to come here. Your followers have been detained. You’ve failed. Surrender, now.”

“Madam Bones,” Voldemort greets calmly. The split lip and black eye do nothing to make him less intimidating, even when he’s observing niceties like greetings. “You could not have overpowered all of my Death Eaters alone…”

Madam Bones smirks. “I didn’t need to. I’ve had people watching the Department of Mysteries since we found Arthur Weasley outside attacked by your snake. You all but announced your intentions to anyone not stupid enough to shut their eyes to it. I’ve been ready for this attack for months. You never had a chance.”

Harry breathes out. So, she has backup. Even though Harry never sees them, there are people stationed around that go to support her when she’s down there fighting the Death Eaters. That pulls a heavy weight off Harry’s heart, knowing that they don’t just abandon her all alone down there to hold the line against all of Voldemort’s available Death Eaters at once.

Harry clings helplessly to Michael. He hates that he can’t do anything but watch, but he knows stepping out there will only get in the adults’ way. Not to mention it’s likely to not just get him killed, but all his friends who will rush out after him, as well. Anthony and Terry grab hold of Susan, trying to comfort her or restrain her depending on what’s necessary, as they watch her aunt fearlessly face down Voldemort.

He casts the killing curse. She twirls out of the way and counters with a curse of her own. Something more akin to a traditional duel in that way goes on for a few volleys, but Madam Bones doesn’t have to hold out for long because mere moments into her face-off with Voldemort, there’s the green flare of a floo behind Harry and the others. They all whirl around to see, “Dumbledore!” Harry shouts. A kind of electric charge surges through every particle of Harry’s body – they’re saved.

Voldemort’s attention slips, eyes turning to the new arrival. Madam Bones’ hex strikes him in the shoulder, making him rear back with a hiss.

Dumbledore glides past the teenagers with barely a glance. He passes the threshold of Theseus’ protective spells without flinching, and immediately fires off an intense, flashing spell for Voldemort.

Voldemort summons a silver shield. Dumbledore’s spell, fizzling with energy, doesn’t appear to damage the shield, but the strike produces an echoing gong-like sound that chills Harry to the bone.

“You do not seek to kill me, Dumbledore?” calls Voldemort, his scarlet eyes narrowed over the shield. “Above such brutality, are you?”

“We both know that there are other ways of destroying a man, Tom,” says Dumbledore calmly, continuing to walk toward Voldemort as if he doesn’t have a fear in the world, as if nothing at all happens to interrupt his stroll up the hall. “Merely taking your life would not satisfy me, I admit-”

“There is nothing worse than death, Dumbledore!” Voldemort snarls.

“You are quite wrong,” says Dumbledore, continuing his advance. “Indeed, your failure to understand that there are things much worse than death has always been your greatest weakness.”

Voldemort’s eyes flash dangerously. He takes a step back, pinned between Dumbledore and Madam Bones, even Theseus who still holds his wand, though he’s immobilized further back. Voldemort’s scarlet eyes dart between his two opponents, then catch Harry’s.

Harry gasps. Voldemort vanishes.

There is a long, quiet moment. Just enough time for Harry to wonder if Voldemort decides to flee. Then there’s a pressure that makes Harry double over. An intense squeezing of his head. His mental shields shatter like glass. Harry’s scar bursts open and he knows he is dead: it is pain beyond imagining, pain past endurance –

The hall is gone. Harry sees a glimpse of the sky, a familiar mindscape – his own, what his develops with his occlumency through Anthony’s tutelage. He is locked in the coils of a creature with red eyes, so tightly bound that Harry does not know where his body ends and the creature’s begins. They are fused together, bound by pain, and there is no escape.

And when the creature speaks, it uses Harry’s mouth, so that in his agony he feels his jaw move…

“Kill me now, Dumbledore…”

Harry is dying, he knows it. Every part of him screams for release. The creature uses him again…

“If death is nothing, Dumbledore, kill the boy…”

Let the pain stop, thinks Harry. End it. Death is nothing compared to this.

Familiar hands cup his face. A familiar scent fills his nose. Gentle fingers card through his hair and scratch him behind the ear just the way he likes. For some reason, the memory that comes to him isn’t any of their more recent ones, not even their best ones, but one of their first.

Rosie asks what Michael is going to call him. “It needs to be something fierce, I think,” says Michael. “He is a little Tiger.”

And as Harry’s heart fills with emotion, spurred on by the familiar touch and the familiar scent and the knowledge that Michael is still with him, that Michael expects him to fight, that Michael hopes desperately for him to live, the creature’s coils loosen. The pain is gone; Harry lays peacefully, his shivering the only sign he is not relaxing under a tree, on a picnic date, with his head in Michael’s lap, Michael’s fingers pulling a purr from his chest as they stroke his head.

He opens his eyes to find Michael’s dark ones inches from his own. “If there weren’t so many people watching us,” Michael murmurs under his breath, only for Harry’s ears, “I would kiss you right now.”

People? Watching them? Harry shakes so violently he can’t hold his head up properly when he tries, but he sees – the atrium is full of people; the floor reflects the emerald-green flames that burst to life in all the fireplaces along one wall. Fudge splutters about something, talks to Dumbledore. Harry only feels capable of focusing on Michael, so that’s all he worries about.

“Are you okay?” Harry asks.

Michael laughs incredulously. “Me? You’re the one who was bloody possessed, you idiot!” Desperate, relieved laughter escapes him in fits that fall dangerously close to sobs. “Tell me you’re alright.”

“Yeah,” Harry breathes. Michael never stops petting him. Harry closes his eyes again, soaking up the feeling. “I think so. Is everyone else…?”

“Yeah, Harry,” says Michael softly. “Anthony’s with his grandpa, so’s Terry. Susan’s with her aunt. They’re all getting ready to go to St. Mungo’s. I’ll bring you there, too. I, er, I don’t know if it’s a great idea to sleep after a possession. Maybe it’s like a concussion or something?”

Harry snorts weakly. “I don’t think it’s like a concussion.”

“Well, I don’t know! Either way, keep talking to me. At least until the healers see you. It’ll make me feel better.”

“You just want to keep hearing my voice,” Harry accuses. He says it because the reverse is true. Harry doesn’t want to stop talking, either, because he doesn’t want Michael to stop talking, yet. He wants to keep Michael’s gentle tone ringing through him. He holds it close, and it warms him from the iciness that pervades him.

“Obviously,” responds Michael. “But you love me, so you’ll indulge me, won’t you?”

Ha. Haha. Yes, he will. Harry does love him, so of course, he will. Anything.

[missbrunettebarbie]

So, I decided I would also publish a few chapters of my newest fic here. Enjoy!

Your heart's desire

Summary:

Regulus Black betrays the Dark Lord and lives to tell the tale.

Years later a strange boy appers out of nowhere claiming to be the son of James Potter and Regulus' own wife. Life as a former Death Eater just became complicated

Chapter 1: The traitor

It was a rare sight to see Albus Dumbledore going into shock. The defeater of Grindelwand, Master of the Elder Wand, Supreme Mugwamp, Chief Warlock and Headmaster of Hogwarts was a hard person to surprise. Yet, now he look like he might have a heart attack.

“Voldemort made a Horcrux?!”

The last word was almost spat out, like a curse. The boy that was facing the venerable wizard nodded. He was young, too young to have such a haunted gaze and so many lines on his face. But like many that were caught in Voldemort’s war, Regulus had grown up fast.

“Oh, I am quite sure he made several Horcruxes. The Dark Lord will want to have as many safety nets as possible.”

The boy fell silent again waiting for a response that would not come. Albus looked deeply troubled by these news. Luckily, his companions weren’t as well informed about the Dark Arts, so the idea of Horcruxes didn’t alarm them at all.

“Right. And you claim have one of these Hor-things, little brother?”

The speaker was another young boy, almost a man, who looked very similar to Regulus. Perhaps the biggest difference between them were Sirius’ muggle clothes and the hateful look on his face.

Sirius didn’t believe for a second his brother’s claims. Regulus could have not turned on the Dark Lord. Not when he had always been following mummy around, got into Slytherin and even took the Dark Mark. Regulus was the perfect pureblood, and Sirius hated him for it.

When the letter first came to the Potters’ house, he had assumed his little brother was laying a trap for him.

Come to the Leaky Cauldron. I have important thing to discuss with you. My allegiances may be changing

As if Sirius would truly believe that. Sadly, Albus had insisted they go and find put what Regulus wanted, though the man had been far more cautious back than. But ever since Regulus had told him Kreacher’s tale (Kreachers?! Honestly, if there was anyone Sirius would trust less than Regulus, it was the mad House Elf), Albus seemed to lose all his common sense, trusting every single word that came out of the Death Eater’s mouth.

“I do not claim to have it, merely that I know what it is and where it is.” Regulus clarified, with a glare at the other Black. Then, turning to Dumbledore: “We must find it and destroy it now. I am sure the Dark Lord will soon find out about my betrayal.”

“No doubt, you want some assurances about your safety when that happens”

Finally, Dumbledore seemed to remember who he was talking to. Regulus just looked at him with a straight face:

“Can you blame me for wanting to live, Headmaster?”

“No, I cannot, my boy. I have to confess, I have never imagined you of all people would turn against the Pureblood ideaology”

“You think I care about useless Pureblood propaganda when Voldemort had the temerity to create a Horcrux? You know what this means, Proffesor. He is truly….truly a monster”

Sirius Black and James Potter snorted at the rather late realization, but Dumbledore only nodded as if Regulus made perfect sense.

“Indeed, it seems we have a common enemy, Regulus Black. So I must ask you: are you willing to oppose Voldemort and risk your life and the lives of all who you love in the process?”

“My life has been hanging by a thread since the day I took the Dark Mark. As for the people I love, well, I only really care about Kreacher right now.”

Sirius groaned at the mention of the hated creature, while James snickered at the idea of a Death Eater caring about a House Elf.

“In this case, Mr Black, let us talk about this…. Locket”

Regulus nodded and started to explain everything he knew. Which wasn’t much. From Kreacher’s knowledge and the Dark Lord’s occasional ramblings he had deduced that Voldemort had turned Slytherin’s locket into a Horcrux. He also knew that whatever potion was there to protect it must be something extremely dangerous, maybe even deathly. He had entertained the idea of going into the cave himself and drinking the potion, but that meant he would most likely day. And even more, he will die before the locket could be destroyed which meant such a sacrifice would be most likely for nothing. He could give the locket to Kreacher, but who could say the foul object won’t try to harm the House Elf?

Sadly, his only option was trusting Albus Dumbledore and his merry band of do-gooders. Do-gooders that included Sirius and James freaking Potter.

Regulus liked to think he was above school grudges, but he would not hesitate for a second to curse the man that had led his friends into playing pranks on Slytherin House for seven years. If there was one good thing in being a Death Eater was being able to curse anyone you wanted without worrying to much about consequences (unless the person you wanted to hex was a more influential Death Eater than you, of course). Alas, it seemed he will have to tolerate James Potter for the time being.

For his part, Albus Dumbledore wasn’t very happy with this turn of events. Of course, the fact they finally had a lead to destroying Tom once and for all filled him with joy. Joy that was overshadowed by he knowledge that his former student has fallen so deep into the Dark Arts he used one of humanity’s worst creations to preserve his life. There was also the matter of Regulus Black. The boy seemed genuine and his information was invaluable, but Albus still couldn’t banish the uneasy sensation he felt at the thought of fully trusting this person who had been raised to believe in the superiority of his blood, who had spent seven years with Slytherins who had filled his head with nonsense about Tom’ greatness and who, after graduating, had pledged himself to Britain’s worst Dark Lord. There was also the matter that he was a Black. Yes, it was hypocritical considering Sirius was a Black as well, but Albus had seen Sirius reject all of his family’s teaching ever since he was sorted into Gryffindor. On the other hand, Regulus had actively embraced them. Until now, when he conveniently switched sides and brought with him the means of Voldemort’s demise. Could it be a trap? Could Tom be cunning enough to try and trick them like this? To what end? And why use Regulus? Because he had thought Sirius would trust his brother? In that case, Tom would have miscalculated. Sirius distrusted him more than anyone else. Maybe Riddle had thought Albus will offer a second chance to a young boy more readily than to a grown wizard?

There were too many questions and their time was too short. In the unlikely case the young Black was telling the truth they needed to act now. The Horcrux must be found as soon as possible. Yet, he could not forget the like hood of a trap.

“Alright, Mister Black, let’s assume I believe you and I am willing to offer my protection. You do understand you will have to tell me exactly where the Horcrux can be found. After that, you will come with me to the Order of the Phoenix’ headquarters – I assume you know what the Order is from your master – and tell us everything you know.”

“No.”

The firm word was so surprising that Potter and the older Black gasped and even Dumbledore’s eyes widen in surprise.

“You, Death Eater scum, have the temerity to..”

“Enough, James. Let’s hear him out”

Regulus took a deep breath. It was clear that he did not found it easy to oppose the great Albus Dumbledore. In his own way, the headmaster was as frightening as the Dark Lord. Yet, he had already chosen to stand against one, he will not let himself be bullied by another.

“Let’s make something clear, Dumbledore, I had once decided to join an illegal organization and follow blindly the orders of a very powerful, but slightly mad wizard, and as a result I have no intention of doing it again. I am not one of your Gryffindors who you can order around like a puppy…”

“Why, you liitle shit..”

Regulus paid no mind to either the interruption or the insult.

“…. nor am I a Ravenclaw or a Hufflepuff who’s willing to work for you for a greater cause amd as such will excuse you a great many things. I am a Slytherin, one that has already defied the Dark Lord. I refuse to trade him for you, Professor. I will fight against him and as such I will fight by your side, but do not think me another puppet. So, I will not tell you where the Horcrux is. I will show you. I want to be there when it is destroyed once and for all. After that…. We’ll see.”

If the older man was insulted by his harsh words he did not show it, he just nodded.

“I suppose I can agree with these terms. However, it will not be just the two of us that go to retrieve the Horcrux, we will be accompanied by a number of trusted people. And Kreacher.”

At the House Elf’s name both James and Sirius looked confused, while Regulus fought down the urge to swear. While asking for Kreacher to come with them was a rational demand as the elf was the only one who had entered the cave beforehand it was also a strategic move. Dumbledore did not trust Regulus and needed insurance it was not a trap. It did seem like the old man believed him when he had said Kreacher was the only creature he still loved. Sadly, the former Death Eater had no choice but to agree.

“One more thing, Mister Black.”

“Oh?”

The young man struggled to keep his face a mask of politeness, but it all fell apart at Dumbledore’s next question:

“Have you ever killed anyone?”

“Yes.”

He was proud of how steady his voice came. Meanwhile, Sirius and James were getting angry again and started pointing their wands at him. Reg fought the urge to do the same. He had too many unpleasant memories of being hexed by the Marauders at Hogwarts. He forced himself to not think about it.

“I killed two muggles. Mother and daughter two months ago.”

“You, bastard! How could you do something like that?!”

“Oh, shut up, Sirius. You tried to kill a classmate at he age of fifteen!”

“How… how do you know that? Did Snivellus..”

“Sirius” Albus tried to silence the Gryffindor. They could not afford to lose track of their objective. “Excuse me, Mr. Black, but I fell to see how your brother’s sins absolve your own.

This sobered Regulus.

“They do not. I know it does not mean much, but I did not want to kill them. The other Death Eater, they were torturing them. It was… horrible. I don’t even know why they were in the Dark Lord’s house but they were screaming and …”

And the woman kept begging me to help her daughter. I should have tried something, anything but I was too much of a coward.

“… and I killed them to end their suffering.”

He searched the faces of the first three who he had ever heard this confession. Potter looked disturbed, Sirius a bit mollified while Dumbledore betrayed no emotion. Just like the Dark Lord, indeed.

“I see. How did Voldemort react to your act of mercy?”

“I lied to him and told him that I thought any kind of attention given to Muggles is a waste of a wizard’s time. He seemed to believe me.”

Ironically, the other three did not seem as convinced. But Regulus has had enough chit-chat.

“Well, Albus” he used the Headmaster’s first name on purpose “if there is nothing else, I would like if we start our Horcrux hunt.”

“Yes, I believe that will be best”

[dyingpleasehelp]

tagged by @treehouse-of-horror thank you i lov u ;~;

Nickname: Puff

Zodiac: Scorpio

Height: 5’5

Hogwarts house: Honestly it hard to choose between all except gryff but I usually just stick with ravenclaw :0

Last thing I googled: “ceiling water damage”. for a drawing.

Song stuck in my head: Thank you for the music. We’re singing it in choir and we just had our Saturday trip rehearsals

Amount of sleep: weekdays with my alarm? 6-2 hours. weekends with no alarm? 8-11 hours. today? 4 hours

Lucky numbers: 3, 5, 7, 13, 20 

Dream job: Drawing and art :) Though there honestly many careers I wish I could have, but I love art.

Wearing: My favorite pair of jeans, a pull over with a neat design and a hoodie over that with a neat design.

Favorite songs (currently): man im bad at these

The Riddle - Dr.Otto Soundtrack

Propaganda - Sparks

The Calm - TF2 Soundtrack

Blonde Boyz - Cyndago

honestly i dont think i can think of anything anything else

Instruments: I play the ol’ vocal chords but i’m also shitty on the piano and harmonica.

Random facts: Idk? what do i have thats not in my bio..  - I have 2 retained baby teeth  - i had to leave this post open and my computer on because i was going to see a movie and i had to leave right in the middle of making this (We went and saw the boy 2, i enjoyed it very much but the ending sequence with all them in the basement was kind of disappointing, but i liked it. though it makes me miss big boy brahms in the first movie.) but yeah its been like. 4 and a half hours.

Aesthetics: science, 80s sheit, spooky, halloween, horror, neon, skelmington; religious, grunge, bl00d, urbex, (honestly this group is just an “Outlast” series aesthetic) 

tagging: mutuals!! i dont like singling people out so just. ALL of my mutuals! free to do this. and anyone who wants to of course :)c

[patricia-von-arundel]

Ravenclaw asks: 1, 4, 11, 22?

1. Do you have a passion project? What is it?

The stupid, stupid Shards Trilogy. ;D Alternately, I guess my cross-stitching? Which I really need to get back to. 

4. Where in the world would you most like to visit?

Norway doesn’t count, does it?

Sweden! I’m still kicking myself I didn’t go when I lived over there. 

11. Which historical figure fascinates you and why?

Another one - let’s go with King Richard III this time! I’ve been absolutely fascinated by Richard since I was a teenager. I’m a firm believer that most of what we know about him is Tudor propaganda, and I’d love to know the truth about the Princes in the Tower. There’s so much complexity to the politics of that period, and he’s rather the culmination of it - he’d grown up during a war caused by a boy king, could he not have just wanted to spare his nephews the same as what happened to Henry VI in seizing the throne? I want to know, dammit! 

22. If you could learn one language overnight, which would you choose?

Japanese, so I didn’t have to deal with waiting years for games to be translated! 

[beatlesandbards]

Writing Ask Game

Shared by @inexorableblob :) their highly entertaining answers

My answers are for my WIP, Rising.

1.  Describe the plot in 1 sentence.  

        When science promises to put human nations at the height of world power, someone intends to unleash an ancient and deadly magic in the name of elvenkind, and a small band of humans and elves must try to find and stop this threat before it destroys them all.

2.  Pick one sight, smell, sound, feel, and taste to describe the aesthetic of your novel.  

       The soft maroon glow that emanates from a Zenithar tree, the crackle of electricity, the dry sting of a desert afternoon, and the rich taste of Guinness.

(though in the book Guinness will have its own name, when I get to that XD)

3.   Which 3+ songs would make up a playlist for the novel?

    1. What’s Left of the Flag by Flogging Molly

    2. Gold Dust Woman by Fleetwood Mac

    3. Hell’s Bells by AC-DC

    4. What’s It to You? by Clay Walker

    5. Lonely is the Night by Billy Squier

These do not make sense as a playlist on their own...but it’s a sampling.

4.    What’s the time period and location in which the novel takes place?

     In-world version of our 1985ish

5.    Is this a standalone or a part in a series?

       One book of a duology. The second book will be Phoenix, set 16 years after the end of Rising.

6.    Are there any former titles you’ve considered but discarded?

       Oh boy. Back in high school, before this was a duology, my first title idea was Rebels with a Cause. Even writing it makes me cringe now. Then it was The Prophecy of the Blackened Crown. Then it became a trilogy, adding two prequels (which morphed into Rising eventually) The Princess’ Secret and The Queen’s Revenge. Then those got scrapped and I waffled between the two prequel titles. And finally, in the last couple years, I’ve left that mess behind.

7.  What’s the first line of your novel?

        The night Mendelevi learned she was to become Queen of Kirame, Aerlind’s ordinarily green hills were covered in snow, brittle brown sticks popping up from the marshes where summer reeds had waved.

8.  What’s a line of dialogue you’re particularly proud of?

         So far: “That orb killed over thirty good people today, Sam. We cannot afford to play it safe.”          “No,” Jason corrected. “We can’t afford to lose.”

9.  Which line from the novel most represents it as a whole?

         “I won’t force you to be something you’re not,” she said. “Essence knows I understand how that feels.”

10.   Who are your character faceclaims?

        To be revealed in the next couple weeks as I post character intros including some of my recent artwork :)

11.   Sort your characters into harry potter houses!

        Queen Mendelevi (chief antagonist): Ravenclaw. Her cunning, not ambition, is what defines her, and part of what’s made her a very successful ruler.

         Dalainada (protagonist 1): Hufflepuff. At a glance one might say Ravenclaw based on her prodigious skills with magic, but the core of her character is her empathy.

         Nicoli (protagonist 2): I’m really torn with him, but he deals with the stigma and magical limits of being half-elven and yet decides to fight against the oppression he sees, so I think I’ll go with Gryffindor.

12.   Which character’s name do you like the most?

         Melquina (Mell-KEE-nah) Al-Nassar

13.   Describe each character’s daily outfit.

        Mendelevi wears rich, bright colors that draw the attention of every eye in the room and magnify her presence.

        Dalainada varies a lot, but she’s partial to flowy clothes with swirls and splashes of color, especially enchanted ones that change with movement, etc.

        Nicoli misses his doctor’s white coat, so he often wears a longer jacket when he’s not undercover and disguised

14.  Do any characters have distinctive birthmarks/scars?

         Jason, another main character, has an X-shaped scar on his left cheek from an unfriendly encounter with an interrogator’s knife

15.  Which character most fits a character trope? which trope?

         I like to think my characters defy or twist conventional tropes, but speaking very, very broadly, Jason is The Spy who Falls in Love and Risks His Mission

16.  Which character is the best writer? worst?

        In terms of storytelling, Mendelevi is an accomplished liar running a decades-long propaganda campaign to maintain political control, so she probably wins out. Nicoli may or may not have specifically developed his “doctor’s scrawl” to get OUT of having to write things because he hates it. He’d rather stick to one-liners and brainstorming.

17.  Which character is the best liar? worst?

        Mendelevi’s the most successful liar historically, but Jason is a professional chameleon whose lies about his identity stumped five linguists and the best interrogator in the country, so the jury’s out. Tashina, another main character, is easily the worst liar--she’s direct, and firm, and succinct, and lies tend to make her break all three of those habits.

18.  Which character swears the most? least?

        Nicoli comes from a city similar to our Dublin, and his cursing is extremely colorful. Dalainada, raised on propriety above all else, hardly ever swears at all.

19.  Which character has the best handwriting? worst?

        As discussed before, Nicoli’s is the worst. Dalainada’s upbringing shines again here--she could’ve been a calligrapher.

20.  Which character is most like you? least like you?

         Nicoli has my sense of humor, Dalainada values empathy the way I do, Melquina has my height (or lack thereof), Tashina has my love for the outdoors, but Jason is probably the most like me at the core. Above all else he can’t stand seeing something wrong without jumping in to fix it.

21.  Which character would you most like to be?

          I think I’d love to be Tashina. Her job as an intelligence analyst is a fascinating challenge, she (spoiler) gets a kickass girlfriend, and she’s a lot taller than me.

I hereby tag @forlornraven @reeseweston @adeleiswriting @nyxnevin and @thewritertiffany .  Anyone else game? Jump in! You know you wanna procrastinate on that next chapter.

[thoughtful-text-posts]

A bellamione fic

It all started when Hermione was sat next to Bellatrix in their Defense Against The Dark Arts class. They didn’t talk much but they were both talented witches and fairly knowledgeable. Bellatrix had a talent with the dark arts while Hermione had a plethora of knowledge to offer the class. Hermione was the student called upon most to answer questions and Bellatrix was the student called upon most to help with examples.

Their professor tried not to show favoritism during the first quarter but by the second he barely called on anybody but the girls. It wasn’t as if students were lining up to answer questions, in his defense. It was strange though. A Gryffindor and a Slytherin were the top of the class and leading their houses to the top of the points leaderboard.

Hermione would’ve been lying if she said she didn’t admire Bellatrix in the least. The young woman was always casting her spells perfectly yet seemingly effortlessly. She even managed to pass tests without studying! How could someone do that? It was one thing to scrape by as though you didn’t care what your marks were but another to pass them with flying colors without even trying. The mere idea of not studying was baffling.

Still, as days turned into weeks and weeks into months Hermione noticed her schoolmate growing paler. She began falling behind on her class work and her grades were slipping. Sometimes Bellatrix failed to show up to class at all and their professor would always look at her empty seat with what seemed to be a sad, faraway expression before taking attendance. When the raven haired witch did show up for class she stopped paying attention. Sometimes she would have a bruise on her arm that she perhaps forgot to cover up with makeup or a charm and other times her eyes would be bloodshot and glassy. Hermione supposed she had simply cried, perhaps over boy troubles.

The professor assigned the class a project. An essay of sorts that would require a presentation and demonstration on the spell they chose to write about and study. As the girls packed up at the end of the class the professor called to them.

“Bellatrix, Hermione, please stay for a moment.” Bellatrix huffed and Hermione raised a brow questioningly but they both complied without argument. As they walked over to his desk with their bags over their shoulders he began speaking again, “Bellatrix it is no secret you’re falling behind in class and this project can make or break your grade. I’d like you to partner up with Hermione because as you know she’s currently top of the class and could be of great help to you.” He then turned to Hermione and continued, “On the flip side of that, Hermione you know Bellatrix is a very capable and talented witch. You’re a very intelligent student but where you sometimes lack in spell casting. I am certain she can help you.” Bella snorted and was probably about to say something particularly rude but Hermione beat her to the punch.

“Professor, with all due respect I’m not sure we’d make the best team. We’re two very different people and haven’t paid each other more than a glance the entire time we’ve had this class. Are you sure this is a good idea?” The professor rubbed his chin and squinted as he thought for a moment before nodding as if he just had an entire mental conversation with himself and came to a sudden conclusion.

“Yes. You two compliment each other more than any of the other class partnerships. People usually pair up with their friends because they know they’ll get along and their views will always be the same. They don’t consider being partners with people that makeup for what they lack.” Bella snorted again and chuckled to herself but this time she spoke before Hermione could cut her off.

“You’re trying to pair up a Slytherin and a Gryffindor. I hate to break it to you, professor, but I’m not sure it’ll work the way you hope it will. Granger here is a bookworm and I happen to enjoy spending my free time out and about with friends. As you can imagine she’ll probably end up doing all the work.” This admission puzzled Hermione. Surely Bellatrix would want a partner that would willingly do the entire project on her own? Why wouldn’t she want to subject a Gryffindor into doing her schoolwork for her?

“Miss Black I’m sure you’ve realized those friends you enjoy hanging around with are part of the reason your grades are slipping. I believe Miss Granger will be nothing if not a good influence on you and I hate to do this to you, but if you refuse to partner up with Hermione I will have no choice but to flunk you this quarter.” Bellatrix bristled at this and slammed her hands down on the professor’s desk causing the book bag she’d previously slung over one shoulder to slip down to her wrist.

“You can’t do that!”

“I can and I will.” His eyes shot between the two women before him as he put his hands together and leaned forward on his desk. “Now, do either of you have any questions?”

“Just one” Hermione finally piped up, causing Bellatrix to give her a bored look “Professor what the fuck?” This caused Bellatrix to laugh so hard she doubled over and grabbed her stomach. The professor simply grinned though she couldn’t quite decide whether his faint smile formed out of amusement or because he felt he won a battle.

—————————————————————

The project would be a large portion of their final grade for the semester so Hermione tried drafting the essay as soon as possible in the quiet of the library. The only problem was she wasn’t sure what spell they should use and it just so happened she had no idea where her partner had run off to. As soon as they exited their classroom Bellatrix had gone in the opposite direction of Hermione without even paying so much as a glance. Frustrated by the lack of help, she decided she’d better find her supposed partner and ask her what her thoughts were. She’d probably the one to cast the spell in front of the class anyways, so Hermione supposed her input was fairly important for obvious reasons.

She packed up her bag and began walking through the halls towards the Slytherin common room. She was halfway there when she looked out a window and saw the woman she was looking for talking to a particularly shady looking Ravenclaw. They seemed to be fighting and as Hermione looked on she saw the witch push the man into the wall of the school and push her wand up to his throat. She wasn’t sure what the witch asked him but she saw him shake his head. Bellatrix pushed him again and stormed off. Hermione figured she’d better catch up to Bellatrix before her trail went cold. She didn’t feel like waiting until the last minute to begin their project and her curiosity was piqued by whatever it was that she’d just seen.

So she turned around and began walking towards the closest staircase hoping she could get outside and find the witch before curfew and before any faculty members caught either of them.

As she rounded a corner on the first floor she almost bumped into the man she saw Bellatrix arguing with. She stopped dead in her tracks and looked him up and down.

“Problem?” He practically growled.

“No. Do you know where Bellatrix is? I saw you two...talking earlier.” She offered him a slight smile hoping he would be of some help.

“Black? That bitch probably ran to her usual spot. She likes to pout nearby the forbidden forest, and if she isn’t pacing around like a lunatic outside of it she’s probably blowing up some trees or something in it. Now get out of my way, I have places to be and people to talk to.” Hermione raised a brow and stepped in front of him as he tried to sidestep her to walk by.

“Just a minute. What were you two fighting about?” He glared practical daggers at her.

“Fighting? I thought you said you saw us talking. I see you’ve been spying on us, mudblood.” The ravenclaw realized his mistake as soon as the witch raised her wand and pointed at his throat. She wasn’t as good as Bellatrix at magic but she knew enough for her threats to carry weight.

“Now you listen to me. I don’t care what you believe in be it stupid propaganda or ridiculous rumors you better never call me a mudblood again or so help me I will bombarda you into another room. I don’t care how thick the school walls are or how many of your bones I’ll need to break to make it happen! You’ll find yourself limp and struggling to breathe before you can even utter that slur again.” The wizard swallowed and she realized her breathing was heavy and she was holding her wand so tight her knuckles were white.

“Well...um...we were fighting about something she wanted. I can’t really tell you about it, it’s not my place. P-please don’t hurt me!”

“Miss Granger!” Hermione went stiff and felt the color drain from her face. Her wand shot down to her side as she instantly turned around to face professor McGonagall.

“Hello professor” she offered, trying to sound chipper but her voice was a pitch too high and McGonagall was looking none too impressed.

“Mister Claudius please go wherever it is you’re supposed to be. Miss Granger, come with me. You certainly have some explaining to do!” Hermione glared at the boy as he walked away and snickered. She wasn’t usually one to hold grudges but she felt she wouldn’t forget what he said anytime soon. Why should she?

McGonagall turned around and gestured for Hermione to follow her. They walked side by side in silence for a few moments before Hermione decided she ought to begin defending herself sooner rather than later if she wanted to have any time to find her DADA partner today so they could begin their draft.

“Professor I was only defending myself” she offered weakly. The older witch raised a brow and gazed at her questioningly for a moment before averting her gaze back ahead.

“Miss Granger having someone against the wall with your wand against their throat seems a bit excessive in terms of self defense, I’m sure you’d agree despite the situation.”

“He called me a mudblood.” At this the older woman sighed and seemed to mull over what to say in her head. She stopped walking and faced her student.

“I suppose I can’t be too upset with you defending your name but I can’t let you go unpunished. You were clearly threatening to use magic on another student, after all. So what do you suppose I do?”

“Well you could always give me a warning and send me on my way” at this the professor’a eyebrows furrowed and Hermione cringed slightly. “or I suppose you could deduct points from Gryffindor and give me detention...”

“I think the latter will suffice” she said, “now run along Miss Granger and do stay out of trouble. It’s unlike you to have to receive punishment.”

“Thank you, professor” she said as she bowed her head in both respect and shame. She still had to find the other witch. Part of her wondered if finding her was even worth all this effort. Surely she could just talk to her about their project tomorrow in class. With a sigh she began walking towards the Gryffindor common room but stopped walking when she saw a witch enter the ladies bathroom. More specifically, she stopped in her tracks when she saw Bellatrix Black run into the bathroom with a hand over her mouth.

Curious, Hermione followed.

—————————————————————

Here’s part of what I have, it’s a rough draft and shits likely to change but I figured I’d give a taste cause why not

@incorrect-bellamione