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thelastarchangelaskblog · 3 months ago

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Sixth Year Bonus Scene 12

This is completely unedited. So likely a lot of typos and the like. But I'll polish it up when I put it on AO3.

Why does Sixth Year have so many bonus scenes? Why?

This is Harry's POV of the infamous tower scene. The one where everyone was convinced I'd already done Draco's POV

Please...thoughts? This is 8,600 words.

Bonus Scene 1

Bonus Scene 2

Bonus Scene 3

Bonus Scene 4

Bonus Scene 5

Bonus Scene 6

Bonus Scene 7

Bonus Scene 8

Bonus Scene 9

Bonus Scene 10

Bonus Scene 11

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If he weren’t so frantic to reach the Astronomy Tower first, Harry would have been rather vindictively pleased that his worries about Hopkins being two-faced had come true. After months of Ron and Hermione brushing his concerns off and telling him he was reading too much into things, it was nice to realize that no, he really had been right.

Only he would rather not have been right here; being wrong would have been better. Because Malfoy had let Death Eaters into Hogwarts and Dumbledore was walking directly into a trap.

It wasn’t going to be fine. It wasn’t going to be fine at all.

He cursed the amount of stairs that the Astronomy Tower had, lungs burning as he gasped for air. But he finally made it to the top, stumbling through the door and into the freezing cold of the night. Dumbledore was there, facing Hopkins, who was looking out towards the landscape, his back to Harry and Dumbledore.

Harry yanked the Invisibility Cloak off, gasping for air. “Professor Dumbledore!” He had to stop, pulling in more breaths. “Don’t – he and Malfoy let Death Eaters into the castle! They’re coming here!”

They both turned to face him. Hopkins didn’t even look surprised, more exasperated, as he skimmed over Harry and then at the doorway, likely looking for Malfoy.

“You shouldn’t be here, Harry,” Dumbledore said, worried.

“I - what?” Harry blinked, disbelieving. Did Dumbledore not understand? This was a trap! “Did you not hear me?”

“I know they’re here,” Dumbledore said. “Wayne did not lure me here under false pretenses, as I’m sure you’re imagining right now.”

“But—”

“Get under your cloak, Harry,” Dumbledore urged. “Quickly now. And hide the others while you’re at it.”

“Others?” Harry barely had time to wonder who Dumbledore was referring to as “others” when shuffling sounds came from behind him. He whirled, surprised to see Neville, Ginny, and Luna there. Ginny and Luna both looked worried, but Neville seemed a little guilty.

“Sorry,” Neville said. “Harry snuck past first, and then Ginny went after him. I had to go, too.”

They didn’t even seem surprised. “You knew?” he accused.

“Of course we did,” Ginny answered bluntly. “We’re his friends.”

How did they not stop Hopkins then? Why did they just let it happen?

There was a small head shake from Luna as she looked past Harry. She seemed very worried.

“Get under the cloak,” Hopkins said. “And don’t interfere.”

Were they just supposed to let it happen? Harry had come here to get Dumbledore out of this, but now they were just going to let Malfoy waltz up here with his Death Eaters?

Ginny snatched his cloak out of his hands, huffing. She unfurled it with a snap, moving closer to Neville and Luna and giving Harry a look that very clearly meant get over here, idiot. Harry hastily stepped in closer, feeling the familiar silky feel of the cloak settle over his shoulders as they all pressed against the wall right by the door.

It was cramped. Harry had only ever hidden three people at one time under this cloak. With four it was a very tight squeeze and he and Neville both had to bend over to make sure that no ankles would show.

“You led us all the way out here instead of to Dumbledore’s office?” An unfamiliar man’s voice drifted out from the shadows beyond the door. “Why? Hoping you can push one of us off the tower?”

“I might have to bring you here, but the last thing you’ll do is mess around in Hogwarts,” Malfoy said tightly, voice flat. “He’s going to be here.”

“Do you have a copy of his schedule?” a sneering female voice asked. “Or did he tell you he was going to be on the tower at midnight?”

The first person Harry saw was Malfoy, his blond hair the lightest part of him in the night. He was flanked by two Death Eaters, apparently the two who Harry had just heard speaking. They were clad in threadbare robes. On closer inspection, they seemed to be two of the ones who had recently escaped Azkaban.

Harry knew there were others. He had seen more names appear on the map before he had bolted out of the Gryffindor dorms. He hadn’t managed to count them but knew it was more than two, and he had recognized Fenrir Greyback’s name among them.

“Is this a joke?” the unknown male snarled, pointing his wand at Hopkins. “Did you bring us here to face him?”

“Idiot.” This voice was deeper, more guttural and animalistic. “Dumbledore’s right there.”

There were six Death Eaters behind Malfoy, each of them stepping out of the doorway and into the open air. They all wore similar threadbare robes, except for Snape. What was Snape doing here?

Next to Harry, Ginny’s breathing was very loud, and he heard her swallow.

Aside from Snape and Greyback, Harry didn’t recognize any of the others present. One, a wizard with blond hair, towered over the others. There was another with a brutal face and light-colored hair. The third one was the most nondescript, fading into the background.

“Fenrir Greyback.” Dumbledore’s voice was quiet and calm. “I had not expected to see you here.”

Greyback’s teeth were sharp and yellow when he bared them. The moonlight cast harsh shadows on his face, highlighting the jagged scars. “How could I resist?”

“Alecto and Amycus Carrow…” Dumbledore’s eyes drifted to the two who were directly next to Malfoy. “Working together as always I see.”

“Well, I didn’t think you’d actually do it, Draco,” Alecto said, grinning. “I thought you’d choke and then we could have our fun.”

��I wouldn’t let you,” Malfoy snapped. “Now, you know why you’re here.”

“What are you planning, Draco?” Snape asked.

Malfoy barely deigned to glance at Snape. “Can’t you guess? Or do I need to spell everything out to you?”

“Don’t draw your wand there,” Amycus told Dumbledore. “My hand’s itching to Disarm you or push you right off, but we’ve been told this is Draco’s job.”

Malfoy looked startled, his wand twitching. “You were told what?”

“Did you think we’d do your dirty work for you? That maybe we’d die instead?” Amycus smirked. “Oh no. The Dark Lord thought you might pull something like this. Why do you think he sent so many of us?”

As the reality of the situation set in, Malfoy looked increasingly panicked. He didn’t seem to know what to do, his plan falling down around him.

“It’s your job to kill him.” Alecto’s voice was more of a sing-song than speech. “And weren’t you clever indeed? Bringing him out here, revealing yourself… If anyone knows anything about Albus Dumbledore, it’s the soft spot he has for his students.”

“You don’t need to do this, Draco.” Dumbledore’s voice was gentle.

The panic didn’t disappear, but Malfoy was back to pointing his wand at Dumbledore. “Yes, I do! You think you can keep him safe? You think you can keep any of us safe? You’re not even aware of the Death Eaters under your nose!”

Was that Malfoy’s angle? That he was doing this to keep them all safe? Was he stupid?

Dumbledore frowned slightly. “Do you think this will keep you safe?”

“It’s not about me,” Malfoy said. “If it had just been me I’d have thrown it back in his face because I never wanted this.” There was a slight crack in his voice.

Harry didn’t realize he’d gasped until Ginny stepped on his foot. That was–

“But because he brought Wayne into this, I couldn’t say no. So, yes, I have to do this.” Malfoy’s voice did break here. “I have to.”

Hopkins? This was about Hopkins?

Harry couldn’t even look for where Hopkins was to see his own reaction to this. He tightened his grip on his wand, fully prepared to do whatever he needed to in case spells started firing.

“You’re not a killer, Draco,” Dumbledore said quietly. “Don’t let him turn you into one.”

“Your friend doesn’t seem to care, does he?” Alecto sneered. “He’s letting you do this, isn’t he?”

“He didn’t want me to either,” Malfoy snapped angrily. “He told me—” He broke off, biting his lip hard. His wand hand was shaking.

“I told you there were options.” Hopkins’s voice was a surprise. But he wasn’t where Harry had last seen him, instead standing next to Malfoy.

“How’d he get there?” the brute-faced Death Eater hissed, voicing Harry’s own confusion. “Wasn’t he just over there?”

Hopkins ignored the Death Eaters, his attention solely on Malfoy. He didn’t have a wand in hand; he didn’t even seem nervous. He was just very intent on Malfoy. “But you have to make this choice. I can’t do it for you. Neither can Dumbledore.”

“I said I would,” Malfoy insisted, but he looked sick. He didn’t even look like he could cast a simple first-year charm, let alone the more advanced magic that killing someone would require. He inhaled, shoulders shifting. “I told you I would, didn’t I?”

Hopkins didn’t blink. “Then can you do it?”

Was Hopkins advocating for Malfoy killing Dumbledore or not? What was he here for?

“What are you doing, boy?” Snape demanded, his voice much louder than Hopkins’s quiet question.

Hopkins did look away from Malfoy now, albeit only briefly as he glanced at Snape and shook his head. When he spoke next, he sounded a little irritated. “Asking Draco a question and giving him a choice. You’re not in this.” And then he actually raised a finger, much like a professor hushing a student, then turned back to Malfoy. “Draco?” His voice had gentled again.

“I can,” Malfoy ground out, though his hand hadn’t stopped shaking. “I can.”

Hopkins didn’t look away from him. No one else did either, all of the Death Eaters and even Dumbledore watching Malfoy. For some odd reason, Snape waved his wand up at his throat, face pinching at whatever he was attempting to do.

The other three under the cloak with Harry either didn’t seem to be breathing or were breathing very loudly. Ginny was practically vibrating where she was pressed up against Harry.

Malfoy didn’t do anything beyond holding his wand on Dumbledore. He seemed almost paralyzed with indecision, shaking and trembling. His eyes were too wide and his skin far paler than usual.

“We’re waiting,” Greyback growled impatiently. “You know the consequences, boy.”

Malfoy’s eyes squeezed shut, and Hopkins glanced at Greyback, face impassively stony. For some reason Greyback took a step back, like he was actually scared of Hopkins.

“Damn it,” Malfoy whispered, “I can’t. I can’t.”

Something seemed to relax in Hopkins’s shoulders. “You can’t?”

Malfoy shook his head, several tears trickling down his cheeks. “I - fuck.”

“You don’t have to,” Hopkins murmured. Somehow his voice was the loudest thing there, gentle and quiet. He shifted closer to Malfoy, so close he could touch. “Draco, if you don’t want to, you don’t have to.”

Malfoy stared at him, wide-eyed, tears wetting his cheeks. “I’m doing this for you.”

Why, Harry thought wildly. Why was Malfoy doing this for Hopkins?

“Do you trust me, Draco?” Hopkins asked, still in that gentle tone.

Malfoy blinked. “Of course I–”

“Do you trust me, Draco?” Hopkins repeated. There was an edge now, something almost desperate. “Do you trust that I can protect you?”

Greyback snarled, going to step forward. “You think you can–” His voice died from one syllable to the next. A clawed hand flew up to his throat, Greyback’s eyes widening as he mouthed silent words.

No one else spoke. Harry felt almost like he couldn’t speak or move, something holding him in place. He didn’t know what to think of what was happening here. Why Malfoy was doing all this for Hopkins; why Hopkins had even done this for Malfoy; why this was even happening.

It seemed like Malfoy hadn’t ever wanted to be a Death Eater, and that was something else throwing Harry for a loop because for as long as he knew Malfoy had been synonymous with being a Death Eater. Even with what had happened last year with the DA; that had been an anomaly. Malfoy’s behavior this year had been more predictable and normal.

Now it seemed like it had all been a ruse?

Malfoy didn’t look away from Hopkins. He seemed to be searching for something. And, eventually, he seemed to find whatever he was looking for. “I do,” he whispered. “And I don’t… I don’t want to kill anyone.” He looked at Dumbledore. “I’m not going to kill anyone.”

Hopkins’s “Good” was so quiet Harry could have missed it if it weren’t so quiet. He reached out to push Malfoy’s wrist down, taking his wand out of the equation. And then he was grinning, bright and warm and completely out of place. “Thank you, Draco.”

Why was he grinning like that when they were surrounded by bloodthirsty Death Eaters? Malfoy’s decision to not become a murderer tonight wasn’t cause for that much celebration.

Greyback’s growl was bloodcurdling, Harry’s hairs rising on end at the sound. The werewolf didn’t move, baring his teeth and continuing that low, terrifying growl.

Malfoy shoved Hopkins behind him, stepping protectively in front of him. “Don’t you dare!”

“You dare defy our Lord?” Amycus brandished his wand. “You’re dead meat.”

“I don’t think so.” Dumbledore’s pleasant tone was entirely at odds with the spell that left his wand, missing Amycus but hitting the brute-faced Death Eater and knocking him prone.

Ginny reacted faster than Harry could, whipping off the cloak and firing a jinx at Alecto that tripped her up, but Harry wasn’t far behind her, firing off his own jinx at Amycus. Neville and Luna were a little slower, their own spells joining Ginny’s.

Malfoy sounded startled. “Where did–”

Harry ducked a curse that flew over his shoulder, almost elbowing Ginny in her shoulder before he managed to sidestep.

“Wayne!” Malfoy’s cry was distraught, terrified, cutting through the chaos of the spells flying through the air.

Harry turned, then stopped on seeing Greyback with his teeth in Hopkins’s arm. Malfoy was on the stones behind them, looking up at them with an expression of utter terror and disbelief. It wasn’t an expression Harry had ever seen on him before.

Hopkins didn’t even flinch at the teeth in his arm. He seemed faintly disgusted but not in pain.

There was a pained whimper, and Greyback staggered backwards, hands covering his mouth. There were multiple teeth embedded in Hopkins’s sleeve where Greyback had bitten him, and they were shaken off a second later with a dismissive hand. There was no blood despite how Greyback had bitten down.

Hopkins narrowed his eyes at Greyback, straightening. “I suppose despite your appearance, you’re still more man than beast, Fenrir Greyback.”

Greyback spat out a mouthful of blood on the stone, looking up at Hopkins with watery eyes. “What—”

“Sometimes I have to look,” Hopkins continued in a conversational tone, “but with you? I don’t even have to try. Your name’s splashed across history: the man who took the werewolf curse and decided to spread it to everyone he could. The man who isn’t even a man anymore.”

Malfoy had managed to get to his feet, reaching out to touch Hopkins’s back. “Wayne. What are you–”

“What did he threaten you with, Draco?”

Malfoy stuttered, eyes widening. The ashen cast to his face, which had never disappeared, worsened. “He – you—” he stammered, terror in his voice.

Hopkins didn’t look away from Greyback, something too bright in his eyes. And Harry abruptly remembered that Hopkins had said he was a Legilimens. “You threatened to turn him? No��you threatened to turn him and watch him kill me?” He tilted his head. “Creative enough, I suppose. I have to give you credit for that.”

There was something so casual about how Hopkins spoke, even as shivers ran down Harry’s spine at the tone. There was nothing casual at all about how Hopkins approached Greyback, who seemed frozen in place. And then, curling his fingers in, Hopkins pressed his index and middle fingers to Greyback’s forehead. “You enjoy the taste of human flesh that much? Try your own.”

Harry blinked in confusion. That hadn’t - oh what the bloody hell.

Greyback had bitten into his own hand, tearing off a gigantic piece of skin and muscle and swallowing it. And then he took another bite.

Harry gagged, then swallowed, clapping a hand over his mouth.

“Greyback!” Alecto snapped, horrified. “Snap out of it!”

Greyback did not snap out of it. There was a distinct snapping sound as Greyback bit through bone and swallowed, blood and gore and skin smeared around the skin of his mouth.

“Greyback!” Alecto cried. “Finite Incantatum!”

The spell splashed off Greyback and did nothing. Greyback ripped off what remained of his arm with his free hand, blood spraying like a water fountain.

A bloody water fountain, Harry thought hysterically. What the bloody hell was going on?

“You bastard!” Alecto whirled on Hopkins. “What did you do? Take it off! Now!”

A purple-colored spell left her wand, unerringly aimed at Hopkins. He didn’t move, seeming more bored than anything else as he watched the beam of light approach before he raised an eyebrow and the spell suddenly reversed. Alecto quickly sidestepped it, eyes wide as she stared at him.

A squelching sound had Harry looking back at Greyback, only to see Greyback digging through his own stomach. “He isn’t–” He couldn’t voice it, nausea roiling his stomach.

He was. Greyback pulled out what looked like a roundish mass and bit into it like it was an apple. It made a very unpleasant squishing sound as this happened.

“Oh my God,” Ginny moaned. She was looking very green, her hand over her mouth. To her side, Neville seemed just as green and Luna wasn’t even looking, eyes squeezed shut. “Michael–”

Michael?

Hopkins’s eyes glowed briefly, a blinding white, before the light faded back to the normal brown. He didn’t seem even remotely surprised at what was happening before him.

The rest of what was likely Greyback’s stomach was stuffed into his mouth, and then he was digging into his own chest, those deadly claws piercing through skin and muscle and bone, ripping apart his own rib cage with loud cracks.

Another curse was cast, this one by the nondescript Death Eater, but it was also reversed and hit the caster in the stomach, drawing out a pained wheeze and a curse from the brute-faced Death Eater. No one had raised a wand to block it; Hopkins hadn’t even turned around.

“Stop this.” Dumbledore sounded horrified and disgusted.

Hopkins said nothing, not looking away from Greyback as the werewolf finally pulled out a beating heart. Implausibly, it still pulsed with life in his grasp. Until Greyback stuffed all of it into his mouth. The last of it had just disappeared behind bloody gums and teeth when Greyback finally stilled, one hand still at his mouth.

“I did,” Hopkins said as Greyback slowly slumped to the bloody stones, lifeless. “The lack of teeth made it a little more difficult than expected.”

Harry didn’t know who started speaking, but he did hear the “Avada—” before it abruptly cut off with a hand wave from Hopkins.

“Enough. I’m not here for you.” For some reason, Hopkins looked at Amycus, who paled dramatically. Well, if Harry were him, he would also be reconsidering all his life choices.

Malfoy certainly looked like he was reevaluating everything he’d known of Hopkins. It was crystal clear he hadn’t known about Hopkins’s little tendency towards Dark magic.

“I’m sorry.” Hopkins actually sounded like he meant it. He walked through the blood on the ground, disregarding the pieces of bone and half-eaten muscle and skin on the stone. “This wasn’t how I wanted to tell you.”

“Tell me what?” Malfoy’s voice was choked. “That you – you’re a Dark Lord?”

“Never that,” Hopkins denied despite all evidence to the contrary. He even looked down at Greyback’s body. “No. I told you the truth. I want him dead. And I intend on seeing that through. But first…would you give me your arm?”

Malfoy took a step back and even turned to the side to hide his left arm.

Hopkins actually looked pained. “I won’t hurt you,” he said quietly. “I never will. Do you remember what I told you before?”

Malfoy didn’t respond, breathing shaky.

When it became clear Malfoy wouldn’t answer, Hopkins continued, “I won’t judge you.”

For some reason, this had Ginny, Luna, and Neville drawing in sharp breaths.

Malfoy didn’t respond, though something flickered over his face. He didn’t otherwise move, staring at Hopkins.

Harry felt just as paralyzed as Malfoy. Even if he wanted to move, he couldn’t. No one else moved either, all of them watching the two. Even the Death Eaters seemed motionless.

But then, slowly, Malfoy did extend his left arm towards Hopkins. It was shaking.

Hopkins reached out, pulling back the sleeve and baring the Dark Mark. It was a dark black against Malfoy’s white skin. “This might sting a little.”

Compared to what? Eating his own heart?

Except instead of anything else that he could have done, Hopkins ran his hand down over Malfoy’s arm and when he lifted it the skin was smooth and utterly bare of any marks. Hopkins’s hand was curled, something sparking in his grasp like he was holding something.

Hopkins was smiling slightly, soft and gentle and warm. He didn’t look away from Malfoy. “You never wanted it?” He huffed. “I wanted to take it off the moment I saw it, but I couldn’t. I’m sorry.”

“You were there?” Malfoy blurted out, eyes wide. “I - I heard you!”

“I was,” Hopkins admitted. “I was going to kill Voldemort then but…” He let Malfoy’s hand go, stepping back and opening his own hand to reveal the sparking thing he had been holding in his hand.

None of this made any sense. Hopkins wanted to kill Voldemort? Well, he could get in line with everyone else, but why did he seem so confident about it?

Harry hesitated, then looked down at Greyback’s corpse. Fine, he could understand why Hopkins would be so confident with that.

Hopkins made an odd gesture like plucking a string, one finger brushing through the writhing shape of something he had in his hand. A beat later, five cracks resonated through the air, and there were five thuds as more bodies hit the floor. One had a familiar silver arm.

One of the figures promptly disappeared a moment later, leaving behind only four. And one…

One was Voldemort. Only he looked different, scarred and bleeding from countless oozing scars that were inscribed into his skin. On closer look, it was countless Dark Marks.

A large snake was curled up on the stones next to him, hissing swears and curses at having been unceremoniously teleported.

Voldemort stared up at Hopkins, something on his face that Harry had never seen before. There was anger, but there was also… Voldemort was afraid.

“Michael.” Voldemort slowly stood, drawing himself to his full height, black robes billowing around him. “Or should I say Wayne Hopkins? Yes,” he hissed, “I found out who you really are. You are not half as clever as you think you are.”

“I wasn’t trying to be,” Hopkins said, eyes moving up from Nagini towards Voldemort. “I’ll be honest. I’ve never taken care of the same person twice.”

“And you won’t,” Voldemort stated, red eyes narrowed in on Hopkins. “You could join me, you know. With your abilities, you and I…we could be great. And your friends would be safe.”

There was a low laugh from Hopkins. It sounded vaguely incredulous. “You are full of yourself, aren’t you? What do you think you can offer me, child?”

Child? Child?

“You haven’t even broken your first century,” Hopkins continued speaking, like he wasn’t talking down to a Dark Lord.

“Bold words from a boy not even out of Hogwarts.”

“I think you more than anyone should be able to understand that one’s physical vessel doesn’t mean anything.” Hopkins gave a slow smile, the sight of it sending shivers down Harry’s spine. “Tell me…have you even cast a spell since you came back?”

Voldemort’s hand flexed around the grip of his wand. “You know not of what you speak!”

“Don’t I?” Hopkins’s tone was idle, much like he was delivering a lecture. “It’s an interesting piece of magic. Do they even know what you did? That the brand you put on their skin feeds on their magic? One doesn’t make much of a difference, but with the amount you have on your skin? I’d be surprised if you even have enough for a simple Lumos.”

“My Lord?” Pettigrew’s voice wavered. “What does he speak of?”

“Nothing, Pettigrew,” Voldemort snapped, red eyes fixed on Hopkins. “You are not as all-powerful as you would pretend to be. And you cannot kill me; no one can.”

“Your Horcruxes,” Dumbledore said quietly, “how many did you make, Tom? Seven?”

That was the issue. Without the Horcruxes being gone, it didn’t matter what Hopkins could do. It seemed like he had been the one responsible for killing Voldemort last time, but it clearly hadn’t stuck because of the Horcruxes.

Hopkins raised his eyebrows but didn’t otherwise seem surprised. “Is that what they’re called? Horcrux?”

It was something about how he said it… “You don’t seem surprised,” Harry slowly said. It was almost as if Hopkins had run into them himself.

“Not seven,” Hopkins continued, drawing the words out, “but eight. Eight soul echoes – eight of these Horcruxes. You made another. You—” He snapped his mouth shut, an emotion crossing his face that looked very much like fury, though it was far colder than anything Harry had ever seen. “Do you realize what you did to yourself? Echo after echo after echo, until what you possess isn’t even your soul anymore but the smallest echo of what you once held. And then you have the audacity to do it again?”

“I have transcended human limits!” Voldemort declared. “I have gone where no one dared to tread, and even you cannot stop me!”

“You transcended nothing,” Hopkins said flatly. “Even demons wouldn’t dare to do what you’ve done, Tom, and demons dare a great deal.”

Demons? None of this was making any sense.

“You defiled my Father’s gift,” Hopkins continued, “and for that…” He looked away from Voldemort, attention shifting to Nagini; he knelt down on the stones with one knee. “Come here.” His tone was gentle, entirely different from how he had been speaking to Voldemort. There were some sharp gasps from the others, though this didn’t seem any more unusual than anything else Hopkins had done so far; it was perhaps the most normal action of the night. “You’re carrying something that doesn’t belong to you.”

“Nagini!” Voldemort made a gesture but then seemed to be frozen.

Nagini, that giant snake that had attacked and nearly killed Mr. Weasley, slithered up to Hopkins and picked up her head until she was nose-to-nose with him, her tongue flicking out. She said nothing and neither did Hopkins, but he did touch her head. His lips moved, though Harry heard nothing, and then the hand at her head sunk in.

Harry flinched back, something in him aching at the sight. Nagini was writhing but Hopkins somehow had her held fast. Her entire body flickered with light that splintered over her scales like lightning. Her hissing sounded like screaming even though it wasn’t anything like a human’s screams.

Malfoy was frozen behind Hopkins, watching everything with wide eyes. He seemed just as confused as Harry about the entire affair. Glancing at Hopkins’s other three friends showed they weren’t confused but they were wary.

As suddenly as the light had started, it disappeared, and Hopkins’s hand reemerged with something dark crackling between his fingers. Nagini collapsed to the floor, the only sign of life the heaving breaths she was pulling in and the occasional flickering of her tongue.

Hopkins looked up at Voldemort, holding the thing in his hand. “One,” he said calmly, and then his hand flared with white light. The crackling dark energy disappeared with something like a faint scream of rage and agony that sounded all too familiar. Hopkins brushed his hand off on his robes, then slowly stood. “Seven more, you said?” he said to Dumbledore.

Dumbledore was silent, his expression blank. He seemed at an utter loss.

“You cannot find them,” Voldemort said desperately. “You cannot!”

“I’ll grant you that it took me a while,” Hopkins said dryly. “But can’t?” He splayed his hand open, palm facing up, and an old book suddenly appeared. He threw it up into the air, stating, “Two.” The book disappeared a moment later into thin air. Hopkins flicked his fingers like throwing a coin into a fountain, and a small band flew through the air, glistening faintly before it disappeared like the book had. “Three.” He held out a clenched hand, only to release it and for a golden locket with a sparkling green S on it to slip out, twirling on a chain. “Four.” He pulled the locket back up into his hand, and when he next opened his hand a small golden cup with a badger on it was sitting in the palm of his hand. “Five.” The cup disappeared into his hand once more and when he turned his hand around a silver crown swung around a finger once before also vanishing. “Six.” And then, inexplicably, he pointed to Harry. “Seven.”

What? Why was he pointing at Harry–

“And eight.” Hopkins pointed at Voldemort, lips curling. “Eight soul echoes – eight Horcruxes as you like to name them. You’ve nothing left, Tom.”

“You lie,” Voldemort hissed, eyes wide and nostrils flaring. “I did nothing to Potter!”

Beyond attempting to kill Harry multiple times… Was Hopkins insinuating Harry had been a Horcrux? Why else would he be pointing to Harry after just having pulled out a variety of different objects that he was claiming had belonged to Voldemort?

Harry glanced at Dumbledore, but he couldn’t pick up anything on his face. Dumbledore didn’t look at him; the Headmaster was looking at Voldemort and Hopkins.

“Really?” Hopkins sounded a little surprised. “I suppose it happened when your first attempt at killing him went so terribly awry.”

“Let me go,” Voldemort said, taking a step back as Hopkins went to move closer. “Let me go, and I will share my knowledge with you!”

“Lucifer himself couldn’t tempt me,” Hopkins said quietly. “What makes you think you could, boy?”

There was something so wrong about seeing Wayne Hopkins mock and call Voldemort a boy and somehow sincerely mean it. Somehow Hopkins even made it work, injecting the appropriate amount of scorn and derision.

“You fear death so much?” Hopkins continued, each word clearly enunciated. He snapped his fingers, the sound echoing through the space. “Then meet him.”

Hopkins’s friends seemed as confused as everyone else was. They exchanged glances, then looked back at Hopkins. Malfoy hadn’t moved from his position beyond taking a few steps away from Nagini.

There was otherwise no sound beyond the sound of the wind and the rustling of fabric.

Something should happen, right? There was supposed to be something–

A tall, skeletal-like being walked into being next to Hopkins, tapping a cane against the stones. His skin was white, paper thin, drawn tight over high cheekbones; his black hair was neatly combed back and his suit finely pressed. He looked like someone about to go to a funeral.

The man…the being - because he did not seem human no matter how much he looked like one - drew in a long breath, opening his eyes and turning his head to look at Hopkins. “Hello, Michael.”

It was that name again. The one Ginny had used and then Voldemort and now this one. Was Hopkins not Hopkins? Was he someone else?

Hopkins - Michael dropped his hand. He actually looked a little surprised, even though he had been the one to dramatically snap his fingers to begin with. “You’re here.”

“You did call, didn’t you?” The being said in a very mild tone that had shivers running down Harry’s spine. It was the type of tone that bode ill. “A call for judgment no less… You haven’t wielded your sword thus in years, Michael. Of course I was a little curious.” His smile was amused.

Harry opened his mouth, unsure of what exactly he was going to say, to ask, but Ginny elbowed him, hissing “Don’t. Say. A word.”

On taking in the sight once more, Harry closed his mouth. He could probably ask questions later if they all made it out of this.

“Who are you?” Voldemort demanded, clearly under no such compunctions to remain silent. “What are you?”

“Two entirely different questions, I think,” the being said, fixing dark eyes on Voldemort. Harry was suddenly very glad that he wasn’t the one currently being scrutinized like a bug under a magnifying glass. “But for you, Tom Marvolo Riddle? Michael kindly did you the liberty of making the appointment you’ve missed several times.”

The being glanced at Michael. “I don’t typically make house calls, but for you… Yes, I see the judgment is apt. Lack of practice hasn’t dulled your senses, Michael.”

“I’ve had some practice recently,” Michael said with a faint, chilly smile. “My first try didn’t go quite so well.” He gestured towards Voldemort, his hand gesture encompassing all of him.

“Well, you can’t always get it right immediately.” That cane tapped against the ground once, the sound echoing. “Come, Tom. Your time is up.”

Voldemort shook his head, eyes wild. “It isn’t—” And suddenly the being was next to Voldemort, touching his shoulder and then the being was gone and Voldemort hit the ground like a sack of potatoes.

Pettigrew let out a cry of dismay. “My Lord!” He ran to Voldemort’s side, fluttering around anxiously until he finally touched him, shaking him lightly.

If Harry were in his position, he probably also wouldn’t have wanted to touch Voldemort so casually like that.

“Well?” Alecto demanded. “What happened?”

Pettigrew looked up, face drawn. “He’s dead. The Dark Lord is dead!” He sounded horrified.

He was dead? Just like that? A hand on the shoulder and then…nothing? How did that even work?

“Dead as he was before?” the enormous blond Death Eater asked. “Narcissa thought he was dead as well if you recall.”

“He has no more Horcruxes,” Dumbledore said with finality. “If what…Wayne here showed was true, then Voldemort has nothing tying him to this world.”

“He’s dead.” Hopkins - Michael’s voice was flat, forbidding any argument. He tilted his head, eyes scanning all the present Death Eaters. “For good this time. Now…the rest of you…”

There was a small shuffle, Luna stepping forward. “Michael…”

Michael did stop, eyes flicking from the Death Eaters to Luna, Ginny, and Neville. He even looked briefly at Harry. He did not look back at Malfoy, but Malfoy hadn’t looked away from Michael, eyes fixed on his back.

Finally, Michael let out a small breath that sounded like a sigh, something like regret flickering over his face. “I’ll let them take care of you.” He gestured towards Dumbledore and Snape. “Your master is dead, so I’d put your wands down.”

“You think he’s dead?” Amycus shouted. “You think the Dark Lord – the greatest wizard of our time – is dead? He died once before! And we refused to bow! We refused to forsake him! Do you think you scare us?”

Why were some Death Eaters without any sense of self-preservation? They had just seen unimaginable magic right in front of them, their master dead, and now they were going to continue to provoke the being responsible?

Harry glanced at Pettigrew, who was still kneeling over Voldemort. He tightened his fingers around his wand, breathing in and out slowly.

“I thought you would be more intelligent than this, yes,” Michael said off to the side. His tone was ice cold, anger licking at the edges of his words. “Especially you, Amycus.”

“He will come back!” Amycus proclaimed. “And you will not be the one to stop us!”

The silence seemed very pointed. Harry didn’t look away from Pettigrew.

“Crucio!” Alecto cried.

Oh, fine. There were a few Disarming spells from his friends, but Harry went straight for the ropes, wrapping them around Pettigrew before the rat could even think of running away. He was not going to let this chance slip away from him another time.

He lunged forwards, ducking under the rapid spell fire that had started up again, and then spun towards the enormous blond Death Eater to shoot a hex his way. He almost tripped over another Death Eater who had ended up on the floor, then almost slipped on a puddle of blood and gore.

“Avada Kedavra!”

“Wayne!”

Harry did slip this time, the ground shaking beneath his feet, and he fell over before he could catch his balance. There were loud crashing sounds, and there was something too bright that hurt his eyes. He ducked his head to hide behind his arms, something else telling him to hide.

Something screeched, rang, echoed, the ground shaking again. The stones vibrated underneath him, and it even felt like his bones were shaking. There was a brief moment of silence, and then a shorter cacophony of sound before it cut off again.

When the silence lasted a little longer this time, Harry chanced looking up, relieved when his eyes didn’t hurt. But he did see Michael on the edge of the Tower, broken stones scattered around him. His expression was stony but somehow Harry still had the impression that he was absolutely furious.

“Your colleagues in the Ministry tried that spell once before; they suffered for it.” His hand swept to the side like he was brushing aside a curtain. Those Death Eaters who were still standing suddenly found themselves knocked to the walls with heavy thuds. And then suddenly Michael was no longer standing there but instead in front of Amycus, one hand at his throat and bodily lifting the man a foot in the air. “What did I say before?” His tone was idle, like he was having a conversation about the weather. “That you were already dead?”

“You don’t have to kill him!” Malfoy cried. He swallowed, face whiter than usual. “Wa - Michael.”

Michael didn’t let a purpling, choking Amycus go. “He tried to kill you.”

“But you don’t have to kill him,” Malfoy said tentatively. Slowly, hesitantly, he started moving forward.

“Draco,” Snape hissed in warning.

Malfoy waved him off, continuing to approach Michael until he was standing right next to him. “You said that to me. I…I don’t really know who you are, but I know you said that.”

There was a surprised shriek from Alecto as her wand suddenly shattered in her hand.

Michael didn’t move aside from turning his head to look at Malfoy. He said nothing and neither did Malfoy. The two of them just stared at each other. Malfoy looked absolutely terrified still but was holding his ground.

Eventually, Michael’s mouth twisted, something pained flickering over his face. His grip on Amycus’s throat loosened, the Death Eater falling to the ground in a gasping heap. There was gagging, Amycus desperately trying to catch his breath.

“I find,” Michael said, looking between each of the Death Eaters, “that humans can sometimes be all too forgiving.” He met his friends’ eyes. “I’m afraid I have only so much to give. And you?” He lifted a hand, fingers curling in. At the same time, Amycus rose from the ground like a grisly marionette. “Judgment doesn’t always require death.”

Harry didn’t even have time to wonder what Michael meant when Michael laid a hand over Amycus’s Dark Mark and his right sunk into Amycus’s chest.

There was no blood. There was no - there was no blood. It was just - it didn’t even seem like Michael had punctured a hole into Amycus’s chest; it was more like his arm had merged with Amycus like the world’s worst roadside circus show.

Amycus wasn’t screaming, but it seemed like that was more because he was in too much pain to vocalize than because it was painless. His bulging eyes and the protruding veins on his neck said it all.

It was a few seconds before Michael pulled his hand out, something odd crackling in it that was eviscerated. Simultaneously, some of the other Death Eaters shrieked while a few just collapsed to their knees, clutching at their chests while light flashed over their skin like lightning. Snape dropped his wand, digging his fingers into his chest but not saying a word.

Amycus collapsed to the stone floor in an ungainly heap, gasping and clutching at his own chest. It was still whole, with no sign that Michael had a hand in there. Harry would have said it was impossible if not for what he had just seen.

”Thank you.” Malfoy’s voice was barely discernible among the pained whimpers of the Death Eaters.

Michael turned towards him, a faint smile briefly crossing his face. It seemed pained. “The only thing I didn’t tell you was my name. You do know me, Draco.”

Malfoy didn’t look away from Michael. “But a name hides a past and you…you’re not human, are you?”

There was a low mutter from one of the few Death Eaters still standing, followed by a cry of dismay. “It’s - it’s not working! Expelliarmus!”

Harry jerked to counter, only to pause on noticing that there was no response from the man’s wand.

“Bombarda! Crucio! Work, damn it!” This was another one, his own wand similarly unresponsive.

Something was wrong. Harry glanced at Snape, seeing him stare at his own wand in blatant horror.

Something was wrong and Harry didn’t quite know what.

Michael seemed utterly unconcerned about it. Of course. He was the one responsible for it, wasn’t he? ”I’m leaving the Death Eaters to you, Albus.”

Dumbledore didn’t seem to know what to do with that. “Thank you. They will be appropriately taken care of.” His eyes fell on one who had been vainly trying to cast Lumos.

Michael nodded, turning around and walking towards his friends.

Some of the awful pressure that had settled on Harry’s shoulders lifted and he found he could breathe more easily. He dropped his eyes to where Pettigrew lay bound in ropes on the stone floor. He seemed on the verge of passing out, no blood in his face.

This was the one good thing to come from this night, Harry thought. This and Voldemort’s death. He wouldn’t ever have to go back to the Dursleys.

”They wouldn’t tell us who they were.” Amycus’s voice was hoarse.

A slow chill traveled down Harry’s spine. He lifted his head, eyes immediately landing on Michael where he had frozen.

”We said we’d let them go if they told us who you were, but they both said no.” Amycus didn’t seem to realize what exactly he was courting. Or maybe he did and didn’t care.

Harry saw a flicker of white light in Michael’s eyes. Something too bright and almost painful to look at it before it was gone. There was no discernible emotion on his face. Behind Michael, Malfoy blanched.

”I wanted to play,” Amycus continued, a disgusting leer on his face. “Your mother especially… She wasn’t bad looking for a filthy Muggle-lover. I hear things about those women - would have been nice to know if they were true.”

��Please stop talking,” Luna begged, voicing Harry’s thoughts. She was also staring at Michael, eyes wide and something like terror beginning to form. It was the first time Harry had seen that emotion on her face tonight. “Please.”

Amycus didn’t look away from Michael’s terrifyingly impassive visage. “Your father died too quick—” His voice cut off in a strangled gurgle, his eyes bulging. He scrabbled at his throat, making an awful gasping noise.

”You have no sense of self-preservation, do you?” Michael’s voice was blank and all the more horrifying for how there were faint flickers of silvery, too-bright light in his eyes. Something about his body seemed almost shimmery, his skin almost glowing. “I would have let you go. I would have let you live.”

”You - you won’t.” Amycus sounded like he was choking, grasping at his throat. “Not with the Malfoy boy telling you no.”

Harry looked at Malfoy, at how he was so white so as to look ill. Even still, he looked dark next to the shimmering aura around Michael.

He didn’t know how Malfoy could move, but Malfoy did, touching Michael’s arm. He didn’t seem at all affected by the terrible pressure weighing down on Harry’s shoulders - on the desire to make himself as small as possible.

”I won’t stop you,” Malfoy said, eyes on Amycus.

Harry didn’t blink but suddenly Michael was no longer where he had been before. No, he was before Amycus, one hand diving into Amycus’s chest and then emerging with a white something that almost seemed to be screaming. It looked vaguely humanoid shape but fizzled at the edges, like it had trouble keeping its shape.

The ethereal glow of Michael’s body had strengthened, along with the silvery sheen to his eyes, though the worst of the glow was centered on what he was holding. At his feet, Amycus looked to be dead.

”Did you never think about why your master told you to send someone in your place?” Michael asked, seeming to be speaking to the thing he was holding. His voice was emotionless yet Harry had the impression he was utterly furious. “Why he told you to do it quickly and without giving them time to call someone? Without giving you time to alert me?”

There was something that hurt Harry’s ears, and he could see the others flinching back. Snape shook his head, though Neville was full on covering his ears with a pained wince.

”I’d throw you into Hell,” Michael continued, almost nonsensically except at this point nothing seemed impossible for him, “but there’s no Hell here for me to reach. So while that option isn’t available…I did pick some tricks up from my brother.” His other hand sunk into what looked like the middle of the thing he was holding, and Harry’s ears rung with something that was almost on the edge of his hearing. “You might know him as Lucifer.”

Lucifer? Harry was inundated with images of red-skinned devils with horns, beaky noses, mustaches, fangs, and slitted eyes. Lucifer the devil?

At this point it was all just going to happen.

There was a shriek that pierced through Harry’s head, and the ground shook beneath his feet. He wobbled, one hand covering an ear while the other kept a firm grip of his wand.

Harry couldn’t hear anything else over the sounds of that agonized shrieking, but he saw Luna lunge forward to clutch Michael into a hug from behind, seeming uncaring of how brightly he was glowing and what he was doing to whatever he was holding.

There was only the slightest hint of emotion now on Michael’s face, something Harry couldn’t entirely interpret but seemed hard.

Then another moment passed, and the emotionless mask broke to something else, Michael’s eyes closing and his mouth twisting. The shrieking abated slightly.

Luna still held onto Michael, though Harry had trouble seeing her with the light around them.

Suddenly the terrible pressure was gone and whatever Michael was holding just floated there, suspended in midair. It looked almost fractured, fading in and out like a bad TV connection, and it coalesced into something more like a ball than the humanoid shape from earlier.

Michael had curled in on himself, one hand pressed to his mouth and his eyes still tightly shut. “Let - let go.” His voice was strangled, nothing like the blank tone from earlier, “or I’m going to hurt you.”

If Luna said anything, Harry couldn’t hear it, but he did see Malfoy reaching out to touch Michael’s shoulder and actually stepping closer.

It was a moment before Michael gave a breathless laugh, one that sounded more genuine that the last one he’d given to Voldemort. “I’m not sure those lucky potions were designed with angels in mind.”

Angels?

A look back at Michael’s friends showed no surprise on their faces. Naturally.

The terrible glow around Michael had faded with the pressure, and it was now only the glow from the crackling, fractured thing before him. Harry could see that Luna was no longer holding onto him as tightly.

“It worked tonight, didn’t it?” Luna said, presumably in response to Michael’s comment on lucky potions.

Michael said nothing else in response, looking down at the glowing ball. His expression was complicated. For an instant that blank look was back again before it shifted to weariness. He pulled away from Luna, picking up the glowing ball and then just shoving it into Amycus’s chest. (That had been Amycus?!)

Crackling light burst through Amycus’s chest at the same time as he dragged in a heaving breath and let it out in a pained moan that had Harry’s chest aching in sympathy for an instant before he reminded himself of what Amycus had been responsible for.

(Guiltily, Harry didn’t know if he would have done any different if he’d been in Michael’s position.)

“I’m leaving,” Michael said, looking at some point off in the distance over the grounds, “before someone else decides they’d like to test their luck.”

“You’re leaving?” Malfoy sounded panicked. He looked almost like he wanted to reach out and take hold of Michael’s arm.

Michael’s answering smile looked ridiculously normal for someone who had just single-handedly taken care of Voldemort and his Death Eaters and also tortured Amycus. “Just for now. And you..if you want something…just call my name. I’m going to go somewhere that’s not Pluto.”

Pluto? Harry took a moment of thinking of the animated dog before Michael disappeared and Harry thought of the other Pluto that had actually disappeared for a little earlier this year. ….At this point why was he even surprised that Michael was talking about Pluto the planet? Was it hyperbole? Could he actually Apparate to Pluto? If he was an angel as he claimed, that would be possible, right?

…Did angels even Apparate?

Harry pressed his fingers to his eyes, feeling tension press in at his forehead. This night hadn’t gone at all as he expected, in both good and bad ways.

“Are you okay?” Ginny asked Luna. “You’re not hurt, are you?”

“He wouldn’t hurt me.” Luna said it with absolute faith and in complete contradiction of everything they’d seen earlier tonight.

Harry did not look at Greyback’s corpse.

“Did the potion tell you that?” Neville asked.

“No.” Luna turned then, looking at Malfoy, who was staring at the space where Michael had been only moments ago. “How are you?”

Malfoy startled, head jerking up. He seemed only half aware of things, a little dazed. He looked between Ginny, Neville, and Luna, glanced at Harry, looked at Dumbledore and Snape, and then looked between all the Death Eaters that were in various states of incapacitation on the ground. “...Yes,” he said eventually, nonsensically.

Luna frowned, though Dumbledore clearing his throat stalled her from saying anything else. “A change in locations is in order, I believe. As is contacting the Ministry so they can take everyone off our hands.” He frowned down at Nagini, who hadn’t said a word or even moved since Michael had destroyed the Horcrux in her. She seemed to be unconscious.

Snape seemed supremely uncomfortable, clenching and unclenching his hands before finally crossing his arms over his chest.

Well, everyone was uncomfortable. A change in locations would be good. Along with answers. Answers would also be nice.

Ron and Hermione weren’t going to believe him.

#first born #my writing #the last archangel #michael #bonus scene #sixth year

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mourningliliesmorningglories · 3 months ago

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that one gracie abrams song that goes “you know me, you know me” except it should be an edit of harry watching draco in sixth year

#harry potter #draco malfoy #sixth year #dark mark #drarry #hpdm #harry really said “don’t you think malfoy is acting weird?#and draco was acting weird

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miareadsstuff · 18 days ago

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GUYS I NEED HELP

i read this romione fic like 4 months ago and i can’t remember the name for the life of me.

it was during sixth year when lavender and ron were still dating, and it had like jeopardy game in it where ron and hermione kept pretending not to know the answers that were abt each other but then they gave in and lavender and ron broke up cuz hermione and ron were making goo goo eyes at each other the whole time

PLSSSSS HELP I RLY NEED TO READ IT AGAIN

#romione #romione fanfic #ron weasley #hermione granger #ron x hermione #harry potter #lavender brown #sixth year

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oxfordelise · 8 months ago

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Chapter Twenty-Nine: Reflect

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Reflect

| AO3 | FFN |

Draco reflects on everything that happened when he was summoned and tries to recover on his own. Hermione realizes something that might, quite possibly, change everything.

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unveiledlegacy42 · 5 months ago

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Trust My Rage

《Content Warning: vigilante, v!olence, anger, 4ssault, snippet of future sixth year Alfie》

Something changed Alfie in the Summer months after his fifth year, he couldn't explain the feeling nor could he really feel it beneath his skin. This inexplicable feeling within his chest, pulling taut as if part of him wants to be untethered. When Alfie returned to Hogwarts, there was a certain darkness that accompanied him, that lengthened his shadow casting behind him, where horns grew from his head.

The whispers and chatters from students felt like those orbs of eyes around Professor Hecat's classroom, unsettling, unnerving. Alfie's shoulders would often be raised, as each step he took, each days passed, he began to be less and less in tune with the world around him as he knew it. The parts of him, innocent and mischievous, had snapped from its tethers the moment he knelt in front of a funeral pyre, where he had rest his heated forehead against his cold wrists, where tears fell and his heart ached with unbearable pain.

Each time he ventures beyond the castle walls, his shadow would follow, the kind that loomed over camps of dark wizards and poachers. His coat would flutter in the wind, swirling with skulls, his gloved fingers tightening around the hilt of his wand as his breath cooled the surface of his mask. His shadow was the first they ever saw, like wings spreading outwards, the sight of the skull on his ensemble only meant their demise.

He would have never expected to turn on his classmates so quickly. Although they still didn't know better than to mess with a kid whose anger swirled like a hurricane within him. They wouldn't know as they accidentally hit Alfie's back with gobstone marbles, staining the fabric with a foul stench.

They wouldn't know until he rose from his seat, gripping his quill with his right hand as he turned towards them. They would only know, when the inked end of the quill meets flesh of a boy's hand, when the leather tome from another desk lands squarely on another's nose and the feather end of the quill sliced open another boy's cheek. Only then they would see the anger swirling in his emerald green eyes, hear the heavy breaths expelled from his lips. Once, twice, three times before a chuckle as deep as a beast within a cavern, rose from his chest.

Only then did they hear the response to their jeers of Professor Fig's demise and Sebastian Sallow's misfortune but only Alfie knew where those words tumble from his lips -- spoken by a goblin long gone:

"Choose your next words wisely."

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fandom #hogwarts legacy screenshots #hogwarts legacy mc #alfie l moon #slytherin #hogwarts #hogwarts oc #hogwarts sixth year #sixth year

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voldemorts-tap-shoes · 1 year ago

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Second submission for Era #1 of @cruelsummer-ficfest! This is a sequel to @adenei ‘s Should’ve Said No, so check that out if you haven’t already!

Mastermind

The ticking of the clock is endless as Ron sits on the sofa in front of the fireplace in Gryffindor’s common room. Not even his chess set can distract him anymore. It’s been hours, or so it seems, and Hermione’s still not back from the party.

The party they were supposed to attend together. Before he’d fucked it all up.

He’d known kissing Lavender was a bad idea from the get go, but he was too mad at the thought of Hermione snogging anyone else to care what the repercussions would be. Blind rage fueled his actions, and suddenly he was ensnared in a relationship with a girl he wasn’t remotely interested in.

He supposes that was the first time life has shown him a lot can change in one evening. Tonight is the second. Lavender is no longer his girlfriend. She made sure of that after Hermione’s scene earlier. Not that Ron cares. If anything, he’s happy to be rid of Lavender Brown, even if that means his ego has been bruised by a public dumping.

At least now he can confront Hermione in peace. And he won’t feel guilty if his eyes linger on her a little too long.

Ron never understood how the simple touch of a hand could send shockwaves throughout his entire body, making for some awkward situations if he wasn’t wearing robes or sitting without a book handy to conceal his lap. But after seeing Hermione emerge from the girls’ dorm in a stunner of a dress, it all clicked into place. He’d tried to play off his attraction as typical teenage boy stuff. When you’re best friends with a girl, you’re bound to feel something. Right?

After seeing her in that tight dress, showing off more skin than he thinks he’s ever seen, there’s no doubt in his mind he wants her. As more than just a friend.

Sure, she snogged Viktor, and he could still be pissed about her keeping that from him. And now he’d snogged Lavender, so they’re even. Did it have to come to that? No, probably not.

But maybe if Hermione had intended for tonight to be a date, then she should have made that clear from the start. It was unfair for her to accuse him of misinterpreting the meaning when she’d asked in the middle of a class. Even Harry couldn’t oppose that; it sounded like a pity invite. If there was another reason she wanted him to go other than for the sake of including him, she should have specified that.

‘But she did, you wanker.’

‘Sure, she did tonight. A lot of good that’s done, isn’t it?’

Ron shakes his head. He doesn’t need to engage in imaginary conversations. He needs to focus. Tossing his head back on the sofa, he closes his eyes and strategizes for the battle ahead. Every move needs to be carefully calculated. He needs to have a plan or he’ll fail for sure, losing his chance to make things right.

Just then, he hears the portrait hole creak open, the Fat Lady slurring and muttering something about curfews and how teachers shouldn’t be hosting soirees outside of strictly set hours.

If Ron wasn’t so annoyed with Hermione’s masterful scheme, he’d crack some joke about the Fat Lady just wanting to get drunk in peace, but he keeps his focus on the task at hand. Seconds later, Hermione appears in the common room, not bothering to look around as she makes a bee line for the stairs.

“Oi!”

Smooth, Ron.

He has no idea if that’s going to do anything to stop her, but his mind has gone blank. All because of that damn maroon dress and the way her hips sway—

“Yes?”

Ron can barely believe she stopped, let alone is waiting for him to respond. He needs to say something. She could disappear up to her dorm any moment, yet he can’t seem to arrange his thoughts as fast as he’d like.

“I—” He pauses, causing Hermione to huff and spin on her heel, continuing her trek toward the stairs, just as he’d feared.

Ron lunges forward, his arm outstretched as he latches on to her hand and pulls her to him.

“Ron, what are you—”

“We need to talk.”

She tugs her hand away but doesn’t make any other moves. It’s almost as if she’s ready for a fight. “Oh, do we? Does your girlfriend know you’re down here?”

“Don’t have one.” Maybe he should have kept her guessing a little longer, but something compels him to be open and honest for once.

With a scoff, Hermione crosses her arms in front of her chest. The stance accentuates her cleavage and Ron may spontaneously combust if he doesn’t look away.

Fucking hell. Does she even know what she’s doing?

“Please don’t lie to me, Ron. I’d rather suffer the silent treatment than be sheltered from the truth.”

“It is the truth! She dumped me after you told me I needed to go with you tonight then stood me up!”

“I did no such thing!”

“Yeah, you did.”

“Please.” She rolls her eyes. “I’d only be standing you up if you actually wanted to go. Clearly, you didn’t. Why would you when you could be snogging someone else’s face off?”

Merlin, she is so infuriating. “You think I’d rather be snogging Lav? Are you mental?”

“Am I? Sorry, but isn’t that what you’ve been doing for the last month?”

“Yeah, only because you snogged Viktor Krum!”

Even though the information slips out, it catches Hermione off-guard. Her eyes widen and eyebrows shoot toward the sky, lips parting ever so slightly that it has him thinking how easily he could just capture them with his own.

“I—excuse me?” And then, she somehow puts the pieces together. He’s seen that face before. It’s the same one she makes when she’s cracked a tough Runes code. “Do not tell me that the only reason you subsequently snogged and then dated Lavender was because Viktor kissed me once after the Yule Ball. Two years ago! Is that the reason you didn’t speak to me for two weeks?”

Oh, fuck.

“It wasn’t just because you snogged him!”

“Kissed.”

Of course, Hermione Granger would choose to argue the word itself and not the action. “What? Oh, bloody hell, does that even matter?”

“Yes, it does! Snogging is what you’ve been doing for a month now, in case you haven’t noticed. You two have been sucking each other’s faces off every second you get! At least I kept my affairs private and haven’t flaunted anything in your face. Not that it was anything worth flaunting. It was a goodnight peck on the lips that I wasn’t expecting nor did I want. And—”

White hot rage blinds Ron, severing his train of thought from their previous argument so he can only focus on the fact that she didn’t want it.

“Don’t tell me he fucking kissed you without permission,” he growls.

“Oh, that’s your takeaway from all of this?”

“Hermione…”

“It’s fine, Ron. He took the hint. No harm was done. Now, can we please focus on why you ruined everything?”

That snaps him out of it. “I ruined everything?”

“Yes. You stopped talking to me. You chose to go out with Lavender after committing to me. All because of something I did when I was fifteen. Honestly…”

“Committing—Hermione, what the fuck? You asked me in the middle of Herbology! You didn’t even specify that it was a date!”

Her face turns the color of her dress and he catches the tiniest stamp of her foot. “I shouldn’t have had to! I thought—after all summer—Merlin’s balls, Ron, you really are thick, aren’t you?”

Jaw dropping, Ron gapes at her. “Did you just—”

He has no words. His brain is broken. Hermione just said Merlin’s balls. Ron has never seen her this flustered before. He catches the slightest pout on her bottom lip and his primal instincts scream at him to pull her close and kiss it away, but he can’t. He won’t. Not yet.

In the midst of his inner turmoil, she finds her words and conveys her frustration as succinctly as possible. “Let me spell it out for you since earlier it wasn't clear enough to permeate your thick skull. Yes, I fancy you. Yes, I wanted you to be my date for the party tonight. And yes, I would have wanted that party to end in a kiss and quite possibly even a relationship. Instead, you stopped speaking to me, snogged my dormmate, and cast me—your best friend—to the curb.

“Well, guess what? Even if you didn’t feel the same way about me, I wasn’t going to lose my best friend. So, if forcing your hand and making you think you still needed to be my ‘plus one’ was the only way to get you to talk to me, then that’s what I did. Bonus points to me for getting Lav to dump you though. Who knew making a scene and having you think I was going to the party alone would work out this well for me?”

The slyest of smiles creeps wider on her lips as she divulges her diabolical plan, and Ron is stunned. Was there far more at stake here than he’d realized? Was he truly in jeopardy of losing her? And was this not just another row they’d get over eventually and at some point go back to normal?

Or was the whole purpose because she doesn’t want to go back to normal? Does he want to go back to normal? What is normal anyway? Just friends? Fuck that.

Hermione has made it perfectly clear what she wants and finally, Ron takes the hint. He doesn’t wait another second as he reaches forward, wraps his long, lanky arm around her midsection and pulls her close. When she tilts her head up to look at him, they’re nose to nose. Her eyes flicker to his lips and that’s all the confirmation he needs.

His head dips down and he captures her lips with his. The sweet and spicy taste of spearmint invades his senses. It’s so much better than the sticky sweet bubble gum flavor Lavender always had to have plastered to her lips. He should have known kissing Hermione would be so much better than he ever expected.

Her hands slide up his chest and wrap around his neck. His slip down to the small of her back, pulling her even closer than she was before, so that their bodies are pressed close. Ron never wants this feeling to end, but it does. Far too soon.

As Hermione backs away, he swears he hears her mutter “Checkmate” under her breath.

“Sorry?” he asks.

“Nothing.” But the smirk on her face tells a different story.

“No, you just said checkmate. Why?”

She glances at the fireplace and plays with the locks of hair at the nape of his neck. The sensation makes his knees go weak. He could get used to this. Fuck, he’s already used to this.

“I couldn’t lose. What if I told you none of it was accidental? The first night I saw you with her, I knew nothing was going to stop me. I laid all of the groundwork, and tonight, just like clockwork, the dominoes cascaded in a line.”

Despite the sincerity as she explains her entire plan, Ron bursts into laughter. He can’t help it. None of this should have surprised him at all, especially given her track record. From taking every possible class third year, to starting S.P.E.W. and spearheading Dumbledore’s Army. Even locking Rita Skeeter in a jar as a beetle. Nothing stops Hermione Granger from serving justice in her own way, and this is no different.

He can’t even be mad.

“Want to know a secret?” she whispers, bringing him back to the present.

“Always.”

She leans up on her tiptoes and murmurs in his ear. “I never even went to the party. I hid in the library.”

Ron simply gapes at her in disbelief. “You went to the library in that dress? You’re mental.”

If only he’d known, he would have sought her out. Perhaps they could have settled this hours sooner and spent all that time in between making up. Of course, none of that really matters now.

Planting a soft peck on his lips, she smiles. “I told you, I’m a mastermind. And now you’re mine.”

#romione #ron weasley #hermione granger #ron x hermione #romione fanfiction #fanfic #cruel summer fic fest #sixth year

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draqo-pctter · 1 year ago

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never meant for good // an epistolary sixth year drarry

Sixth Year began much as Harry expected. His summer was cut short by the beginning of the Second Wizarding War, Fudge was fired from the Ministry, two Ministry employees were found dead, and Slughorn hardly agreed willingly to return to Hogwarts. Not to mention Draco Malfoy acting stranger than usual and attacking him on the Hogwarts Express. What wasn't expected was an enchanted note appearing on his bed the first night back at Hogwarts. For weeks, he didn't know who the sender was; only that, with each note that they exchanged, Harry was growing more attached to the carefully written letters folded in neat and tidy squares. When the sender turned out to be Draco Malfoy, and Harry ended up falling in love with him, the beginnings of war became even more complicated.

wip / weekly updates of 4 chapters until completion written for the @pbafest tags: sixth year, angst with a touch of soft, falling in love, promise of an eventual happy ending, mostly canon compliant

click here to read on ao3

#drarry #draco malfoy #harry james potter #draco x harry #harry x draco #draco malfoy x harry potter #harry potter x draco malfoy #drarry ff #drarry fanfic #drarry fanfiction #hp fanfiction #sixth year #ohthedrarry ao3

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braveclementine · 6 months ago

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Chapter 20

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

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

🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎

𝕴 𝖕𝖆𝖈𝖊𝖉 𝖙𝖍𝖊 room nervously, unsure of what was going to happen. I was tired, Remus didn't like sleep as much as Severus and I did. But that wasn't why I was pacing.

Susan, Ernie, Trang, Ginny, and Justin were all waiting with me, all of us unsure of whether or not the Slytherins were going to end up coming at all. They were already five minutes late.

"We'll give it a few more minutes." Susan said sadly, her enthusiasm that the four houses would participate was slowly diminishing.

We waited five more minutes and then Ernie got up from where he was sitting, "Let's face it, they aren't showing-"

The door opened and there was a seventh-year Slytherin that I didn't know coming through the room, other seventh-years following.

There was an awkward silence as the rest of the Slytherin house filed in. I caught sight of Pansy who nodded slightly when our eyes met, and there was Zabini, standing next to her, and a grumpy Draco behind them.

Ernie and I exchanged a glance and then I grabbed the container of green markers. The leading Seventh-year approached and grabbed a green writing utensil and turned to sign the paper. I saw the look of surprise appeared on his face, and he turned back to us.

"Who drew this?" He asked in a deep voice.

The other Hufflepuffs, Ginny, and Trang all turned to look at me and a slight flush appeared on my cheeks. "That would be me."

"The whole thing?" He asked, motioning to the drawing.

"Yes." I said.

We stared at each other for a moment, his eyes appraising and mine apprehensive. Without another word, he turned back to the drawing and signed.

That seemed to be the deal for everyone. They all lined up, moving through the line, pushing and shoving to get to the front. Three people signed at a time. Some, like the first seventh-year were surprised. Others simply signed and left.

It took about two and a half hours, shorter than the others but then again, the other houses had showered more praise on me. I think I preferred the Slytherin approach.

"That. . ." Trang said.

"-went better than expected?" Ernie finished for her.

"Yes." Ginny finished.

The finished drawing had all the Professors and now, signatures in Blue, Red, Gold, and Green. "It's great." I said with a smile. "We'll present it to the Professors on the last day of school."

"I hope they like it." Justin said fervently.

Susan scoffed, "Of course they will. It was our idea, Elizabeth drew it, and everyone from every house signed it. What's not to like?"

They all left, leaving me to roll up the drawing. I asked for a secret compartment to put it in so that no one (since everyone in the school minus Professors had been here) could come in and take it. It would only open at my touch.

The only thing I wished was different about the drawing were I wished for other signatures. I would've liked Fred, George, Oliver, Percy, Angelina, Alicia, Cedric, and other students that had been here to sign it as well. Perhaps I could eventually get signatures. Just not before we presented it to the Professors.

I left the room. I walked down the hall, hurrying towards where Severus and I were staying. I slipped in through the door, hurrying upstairs.

Severus was in the office, holding Remus in one arm, grading homework at top speed with the other. I laughed a little and took Remus from his arms.

"Are you hungry?" I asked in that annoying voice that adults use with little kids. I couldn't help it, it kind've just slipped out.

I let him drink (Severus and I had agreed to breast-feeding as the best source of food for Remus) and held him by the window, looking out on the sunny grounds.

I murmured incoherent things under my breath to Remus. Words so soft, I could barely hear them, and Severus could not hear them, and Remus probably couldn't hear them, and even if he could, he wouldn't understand them.

He fell asleep in my arms and I held him for a long time, wishing I could be outside with him. But the students didn't know about Remus and they couldn't. I hoped they didn't find out for a while.

"The day's coming." Severus said and I looked over at him, knowing what he was talking about. He had abandoned the homework, leaning back in his chair carelessly, staring at me and Remus.

"Yes." I said quietly. "Soon."

The chair dropped down onto all fours and Severus stood, coming over to embrace the two of us. "We're going to be fine." He whispered.

"Yes." I agreed. "We will." I reached up to kiss him.

🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎

"𝕮𝖔𝖒𝖊 𝖎𝖓." 𝕬 tired voice said from behind the door and I pushed it open and stepped into Professor Dumbledore's room. "Elizabeth! To what do I owe this pleasure?"

It was a few days after the Slytherins had signed the artwork. I felt that this was a necessary thing to do.

"I want to tell you something." I said, tears springing to my eyes, just thinking about it. I quickly took a deep breath, trying to forget what I had seen while also trying to conjure it up into my mind to tell Dumbledore. "I need to tell you something."

"Is something wrong?" Dumbledore asked, sounding slightly alarmed.

"Not yet." I said with a small smile, "But this will take some time."

Dumbledore gestured to the seat in front of his desk. Many of the portraits on the wall were awake, listening intently.

"I want to tell you about the future." I said in as firm a voice as possible. "Because you won't be able to interfere with it."

"Because Severus is going to kill me." Dumbledore acknowledged.

"Yes." I said.

"When will it happen?" Dumbledore asked.

I took in another deep breath. The conversation would go much faster if I didn't let my emotions get a hold of me. "Soon. The day that you find a horcrux which of course, is inside the cave that Tom Riddle brought those two children to. It's the locket, or so you believe. When you get back, Draco Malfoy will have let the Death Eaters into the school. He will tell you more about how he accomplished it at the top of the Astronomy tower. Severus will. . . Severus will come and. . ." I drifted off and Dumbledore nodded.

"But you want to tell me more than just my death, don't you?" Dumbledore said gently.

"Yes." I said, taking another deep breath. "It all just came crashing down an hour ago. I was in. . . in the Room of Requirement, I'll show you why momentarily because it's important."

"This was an hour ago?" Dumbledore asked curiously, folding his hands on the desk.

"Yes." I said. "I would have gotten here sooner, but I had something like a mental breakdown when I. . . when I saw everyone that died."

"I see."

"Harry accomplishes what you sent him to do." I said. "The locket, the real one, is found on Dolores Umbridge. Harry infiltrates the ministry and gets it. I'm not sure of all the fine details, this is the broad spectrum."

"Of course." Dumbledore said, motioning with his blackened hand, "continue."

I explain everything in great detail- taking Harry from his house, Uncle Moody's death, the wedding, Harry, Ron, and Hermione breaking into the Ministry, Ron leaving, Ron coming back, the trip to Lovegood's house, the Malfoy Manor, and then I paused before the battle of Hogwarts.

I open my eyes, gazing into Dumbledore's shining blue ones. Not shining because they are light, but shining because he is crying. It's much different than watching a man like Hagrid cry. Somehow, Dumbledore makes it almost beautiful, symbolic. "Who do we lose?"

I licked my lips, unable to get the names out and start with the names of the people that I'm slightly more okay with, "The fallen fifty, however I don't know all fifty, just some of the names. Colin Creevy." I can picture where he signed his name on the drawing- right underneath Mrs. Norris' tail. "Lavender Brown." She signed near Professor McGonagall's hat. I took another shuddering breath, "Fred Weasley." I opened my mouth and then closed it, unable to say anymore.

"Lupin." Dumbledore says it for me and I nod, tears leaking over my eyes and I wipe them away.

"And Tonks." I choke out. "And. . . and. . ."

"Severus." Dumbledore finishes for me again and I burst into tears, finally unable to hold them back.

"It's not fair." I whisper, "It's not fair at all! We just had a child. Dad and Tonks will have a child too!"

"You plan on trying to change their deaths, don't you?" Dumbledore asked. He never missed anything, did he.

I nodded, wiping underneath my eyes again. "Felix Felicis. I know it can only do so much but if they're luckier than their opponents. . ."

"It is a good plan." Dumbledore says softly. "How do Lupin, Tonks, and Severus die?"

"Bellatrix kills Tonks. Dolohov kills Dad, and Voldemort uses Nagini to kill Severus." I whispered, my voice nearly breaking again.

Dumbledore nodded, reaching out absentmindedly to pet Fawkes. "but Voldemort is ended?"

"Yes." I whisper. "Neville cuts Nagini's head off and Harry kills him."

"Alastor is a good man." Dumbledore muttered, almost to himself. I felt the tears spring up again, thinking of my sweet (though he rarely showed that side of him) Uncle. I didn't want to lose him. Could I stop his death?

There is silence. The portraits are not discussing this outcome yet, but are looking at each other. Dumbledore seemed to be thinking deep in thought.

"If I lived," Dumbledore started suddenly, "Do you think the future would change?"

I hesitated, "I think. . . I think it could be possible. The others. . . they would probably expect you to finish Voldemort as you are the only one he has ever feared. But. . . the curse on your hand. . . even if Severus did not kill you in a few days. . . it would still kill you before the battle. But when Severus kills you, it makes Voldemort put more faith in him."

"And yet Voldemort will still kill him?" Dumbledore asked. He seemed to be trying to figure something out, "And with the snake?"

"Yes." I said. "Because he will steal your wand from you. He thinks the reason the wand doesn't work for him is because Severus killed you and therefore, the wand belongs to Severus. However, it actually belongs to Draco because Draco will disarm you. Then the wand becomes Harry's when he disarms Draco at the Malfoy's Manor. That is why Harry is able to destroy Voldemort, because the wand that Voldemort tries to use on Harry really belongs to him."

"And Severus dies for nothing." Dumbledore whispered.

"I have a plan." I said desperately. "It's not well thought out yet but I'm working on it. I can use Runes for protection, carving them on Severus' neck and heart. This way, when the snake bites, it will bite farther from the heart, giving me just a little more time to heal him. Mr. Weasley was bitten by the same snake so if he tells me what the healer used. And a little Felix Felicis can't hurt, though I know it's ridiculous to think the luck potion will heal and-"

"It's a well thought out plan Miss Kane." Dumbledore said gently. "I will see if I can help you before I die."

"Thank you." I whispered.

There was a silence. Fawkes let out a quavering cry and Dumbledore straightened his glasses. "You said there was something you wanted to show me in the Room of Requirement?"

"Yes." I said, standing, "It won't take long, only a few minutes of your time."

Dumbledore smiled, "We've been here for a half hour, Elizabeth. You may take a few more minutes of my time."

He followed me out of his office and we went down the revolving stairs. He followed me up a few flights of stairs to the seventh-floor. I paced back and forth three times, imagining the art studio and then opening my eyes and wrenched the door open. Dumbledore followed me in.

"This is a marvelous studio Miss Kane." Dumbledore said, standing in the entry way while I went over to the lock container, putting my hand against the hiding place and the lid popped open. I pulled out the drawing, carrying it carefully over to the table and unrolled it, setting weights on either end to keep it open.

I reached into a bucket that stood on one of the many shelves with the art supplies and pulled out a black writing utensil.

"I want you to sign this." I said. "None of the teachers are supposed to sign it, it's supposed to be a gift for you guys for teaching, but since. . . well I thought it would be a nice gesture if you signed it."

Dumbledore was looking down at the art, smiling, "You captured everyone with great detail." He chuckled, "Kettleburn was always a bit, ah, enthusiastic about his work, no matter how many limbs he lost."

"The ones I met or only saw for a year were the harder ones." I admitted, "Especially Quirrell since I never had much to do with him. Dad and Uncle Moody were the easiest."

"They are quite realistic." Dumbledore said, tracing a finger lightly over Firenze's bow. "I'm quite regretful he will not be able to return to the forest."

"As am I." I said.

"I forgot, you were great friends with him in the forest."

"And out of it." I admitted. "I made friends with a few Centaurs but once they started getting possessive with the forest. . ."

Dumbledore took the black utensil from my hand gently and wrote his name in the same calligraphy I'd used for the funny portraits at the top of the page: Albus Dumbledore.

He put the sharpie back in a bucket and after observing the banner one last time said, "You should give this to the Professors sooner rather than later. I would like to see their faces when you give it to them."

With that, he walked from the room, leaving me there alone, remembering the first time the future flashed across my vision revealing that everyone I loved was going to die.

I collapsed to the floor, the visions of Dad and Tonks laying on palettes in the Great Hall dead swimming in front of my eyes. Their fingers were inches apart as though they had fallen that way. Their wands across their chests.

Severus was inside the Whomping Willow. Nagini lunged at his throat. His last words to Harry were, "you have her eyes."

Fred was standing in a hallway. It exploded as Acromantula burst into the castle. I wasn't sure yet if it was a spell or a flying brick that killed him.

Lavender Brown was lying on the ground, Fenrir Greyback on top of her, ripping her neck out.

Colin Creevy in Neville's arms being carried back up to the castle.

Professor McGonagall, Professor Flitwick, and Kingsley were fighting three on one against Voldemort. Mrs. Weasley kills Bellatrix Lestrange, causing Voldemort to push the three of them back in a rage.

I sobbed into my hands, tears falling through my fingers and hitting the floor with tiny pings. Visions seemed to flash faster and faster through my eyes, so quickly there were only snatches of people's faces and places.

Dobby's wide green eyes and then-

Uncle Moody falling from a broom and then-

An electric blue eye underneath a brass nameplate that read Dolores Umbridge and then-

George was missing an ear-

Nagini was slithering-

Ollivander-

Rook-

Wand-

Doe-

Lake-

Sword-

"NO!" I screamed, getting up from the floor. I wiped the tears away and back, my hands running through my hair.

I was shaking and sobbing and shivering and sweating and hating myself and whoever had given me this horrible power of seeing the future. I'd always relied on it, always been glad of it. It had always given me an edge, something that I could hold over others, always one step ahead because I knew what was going to happen, what was going to be said, what should be said. I had never really hated it before.

Now I detested it. I would've given anything to not see these visions, to not see that I was going to lose literally everyone in one fight.

I'd already lost my parents and my godfather and a best friend. Now I was going to lose my second set of parents, my uncle, another best friend, and my husband. I was going to lose everyone in a few months.

I grabbed the back of a chair, sitting in it, trying to get a grip on myself before I went back out into the world.

"What about Trang?" I asked aloud. "What happens to her?"

I could not see Trang's future because Trang was linked to me. She was not a separate entity. Without me, she would not have discovered magic, she would not have been here. Because of me, I could not see her future for the future war.

I got to my feet shakily, wishing for a mirror, and one appeared. I stood in front of it. My entire face was pale except for my eyes were were pink around the edges, the corneas red. My hair was sticking out everywhere as though I'd been electrocuted. I was perhaps exactly what a mad woman in an old movie looked like.

I sighed, wishing for a brush and carefully brushed out my hair until it was smooth and silky, not a hair out of place. There was nothing I could do about the eyes except rest them and so, after I rolled up the drawing, I closed my eyes, imagining other things that had nothing to do with the future.

It took me a few hours to leave the room.

I walked with purpose towards the Hufflepuff common room. People saw me with the drawing tucked up under my arm, and pointed, whispers breaking out in excitement. I tried not to smile and then thought smiling might do me some good and so I smiled.

"We're going to give it to them tomorrow?" Susan asked in surprise. "I thought we were waiting until the last day of school?"

That was going to come sooner than expected.

"Yes." I said to the room of Hufflepuffs. "I have my reasons, mostly so that we can appreciate the art with enough time. I would rather the Professors be able to express their admiration or distaste for the drawing over a course of time rather than hurried exclamations of praise in a few hours because they're rushing us off to the train."

"Hear hear." Ernie said pompously. I could always count on Ernie.

I smiled at all of them, my heart heavy, and I went up to the girls' dorm. There was no drawer that was large enough to keep it in and so I put it on the other side of the wardrobe, propped up. It was very large and it nearly touched the ceiling which was quite a feat considering the ceiling nearly reached thirteen feet.

"Is something wrong?" Hannah asked more perceptibly when I had come down. Hannah, Susan, Ernie, Justin, Zacharias, and Rose were all waiting for me, to congratulate me.

I looked around, noticing that many Hufflepuffs were off in their own groups though a few were keen to listen in.

"Let's. . . go on a walk." I said brightly. "It's a nice day out."

They followed me, mixed looks of confusion and apprehension on all of their faces.

Once we were outside, we walked down to the lake. There was no one around and I quickly turned to them.

"What's happening?" Zacharias demanded.

"Death Eaters." I said.

Ernie and Susan's expressions stayed stoic though the others showed signs of horror.

"Originally." I said. "Hermione was going to send out the day that the Death Eaters attack by using the D.A. coins. Only Luna and Neville answered the call. But I thought, you know, if I told you guys ahead of time. If you guys want to fight-"

"I will." Susan said in a hard voice.

"We could be killed!" Justin said in a voice that almost sounded repulsed.

"Well they won't penetrate the Common rooms." I said, "So if you stay in your dorms you'll be fine. It's only if your out in the corridors. . .and besides, I have a way so that we don't get killed."

"How?" Zacharias asked skeptically, his face a little pale.

"Felix Felicis." I stated simply and then remembered that only Ernie was in my potions class. "It's a luck potion. If we all have some-"

"Then we'll be lucky and won't die." Ernie said. "Brilliant."

"I mean, you could die, you know?" I asked, smirking slightly. "If you jumped off the tower or something. It doesn't make you invincible. But it should give an edge so that you avoid being killed."

"So-" Rose started but I interrupted her.

"You, Rose, are staying in the dorm. You don't know enough yet to be in a real battle. I want you to stay in the common room."

Rose pouted, but said nothing.

"I just wanted to let you all know." I said gently. "If you have your D.A. coin, you'll know when they are going to attack."

"What about Dumbledore?" Justin asked desperately.

"He's been leaving the castle frequently." I said. "Tonks, Professor Lupin, and Bill Weasley will be part of the guard protecting the castle, including all the Professors. They won't have expected this. I already saw Dumbledore. He will take necessary precautions, but we can't think that the Death Eaters won't find a way in regardless."

"Alright." Ernie said.

"That's why you want to give the Professors the drawing tomorrow." Zacharias said. "Not because of all the crap you spewed in the common room."

I smirked, "You know me so well Zach."

He scowled, "Don't call me Zach."

"Anyways." I said, having no more information to tell them. "I thought you guys should know, no matter what path you guys decide to take." I slipped the two bottles of Felix Felicis from my pocket and handed it to Ernie. "This is in case I'm not there. They both have twenty-four hours worth inside of them. I wasn't sure how much would be needed. I wouldn't drink an excessive amount and I wouldn't drink it unless you plan on being at the fight. Save it for the fight, don't drink any before. Ernie, I'm entrusting you with this, okay?"

"Why?" Ernie asked surprised, but also took the bottles, holding them gingerly in his hands.

"Because," I said. "You're kind've like the leader in my book. And plus, if you aren't around, both Susan and Hannah can get into your room whereas boys can't get into girls' dorms. It's also more convenient if you have them."

"Practical." Ernie said with a nod.

There seemed almost a sort of pact that was surrounding us, including Rose though she was still pouting.

My throat seemed unusually tight. I knew the futures of Ernie and Susan and Hannah. I knew that Zacharias Smith would flee the battle of Hogwarts next year, pushing first-years out of the way to escape. I wondered how I could be friends with a person like that and yet, there was a fondness I had with him. I supposed that there was a part of people that didn't choose who they made friends with: it was all up to chance.

I did not know Roses' future and I did not know Justin's. For all I knew, they both would die next year. Justin being a muggle-born, of course, would definitely be on the kill list. Rose was a half-blood and young, but yet determined to fight. Just like Colin. My throat closed again.

"I just. . ." I said softly. "Not necessarily this year. . . but next year. . . no matter what happens. . . I am proud to call all of you my friends."

Ernie swallowed, putting his hand out and I put my hand over it. Susan and Hannah reached out, touching our hands and Rose's tinier hand joined ours. Zacharias hesitated while Justin reached a hesitant hand out. We did not wait long but Zacharias finally put his hand over Justin's. We all let go at the same time, heading back up to the castle in silence.

IT. That's what the circle outside reminded me of. The kids in IT had made a promise, they'd always come back to each other. Of course, there was no promise between us, but it felt something like that.

Of course, they'd also cut their hands open with a coke bottle and let their blood mix together. At least we hadn't done that.

Once inside the castle, we went out separate ways.

I found Trang sitting with Anthony Goldstein and Padma Patil and Terry Boot and few other Ravenclaws.

"Hey Kane!" Anthony greeted me brightly. "What's up?"

I held out two bottles of Felix Felicis. "Do you guys know what this is?"

"Yeah," Terry said. "That's Felix Felicis. Did you get that from Slughorn?"

"No," I said, shaking my head to emphasize the word. "I brewed it myself."

The Ravenclaws looked around at each other, clearly impressed. Trang however, was gazing at me in a worried look.

"So. . ." Trang said slowly, "What are you giving us two bottles of luck potion?"

I hesitated, "I can't go into the details yet. . .but if you guys still have your D.A. coins, I would pay attention to those."

Smiles started to fade from the Ravenclaws faces.

"When you get that message, I would drink some of this, those of you who want to anyways."

"There's going to be an attack, isn't there?" Padma asked.

I hesitated and then said, "Something like that, yes, but if you don't want to fight, you can stay in the dorm. The attacks will only happen in the corridors." I held the bottles out to Anthony. He seemed to be the best candidate. He'd wanted to come to the Ministry last year. I was almost confident that he would fight. Or, we would find that all his talk last year had been just that- talk. He hesitated for a second and then reached out, and took them, pocketing them.

I got up and left the library. I felt lighter than I had before. I had one more potion that would go to the Gryffindors after I told them about the D.A. coins. Then I would have my own small potion that was back in my room with Severus.

"Elizabeth!" Trang's voice was sharp as she called down the hallway after me. I sighed, slightly unhappy with what was going to happen next.

"Hi. Trang." I said, not stopping as she caught up with me. I was making my way up to the Gryffindor Tower.

"You won't be participating in the fight, right?" Trang asked.

I stopped walking, "You won't be fighting either, right?"

We stared at each other, measuring each other.

"You have a child." Trang said.

"You don't know enough to fight." I said sharply. "Besides, that's what the Felix Felicis is for, luck. I won't get hurt when I drink it."

"And you're sure about that?" Trang asked skeptically.

"You should put more stock into magical potions." I said, walking again. Perhaps I would find a single Gryffindor and tell them to spread around the idea of D.A. coins. "Besides, what I can see, no one dies."

"Did you see everyone your enlisting in the fight?"

"No, because when Hermione used the D.A. coin, only Luna and Neville answered the call. That's why I made more Felix Felicis."

Trang sighed, "Is there anything I can say that will keep you from fighting and staying alive for Remus?"

I turned on her, angry. "Do you think this is easy, Trang? When I say no one is going to die, I mean, no one who fights. But Bill will be bitten by Greyback which will leave a scar and Dumbledore's going to die."

"Dumbledore's going to die?" Trang asked in horror.

I looked around carefully but the few people walking through the hallways were fifth-years worrying over their O.W.L. exams that I knew (but they didn't) were going to be canceled because Dumbledore was going to die.

"Severus kills him." I whispered.

"Oh my God, Elizabeth, I'm so sorry." Trang whispered.

"Dumbledore asked him to." I said.

Trang's sad face drew back into a puzzled one. "What?"

"Dumbledore called it a last act of loyalty."

"Dumbledore's crazy!"

"You can't tell anyone, it's imperative that they all think Severus betrayed us." I said glumly.

"I'm sorry." Trang said more sincerely. "That's got to be tough."

"Let's just hope that I don't spill that he was killing him on Dumbledore's word." I said sadly.

Seamus and Dean walked past us with Parvati and Lavender.

"Dean!" I called and the four of them turned.

"What's up Elizabeth?" Dean asked.

I couldn't bring myself to look at Lavender.

"Um, do you guys still have your D.A. coins?" I asked in a casual voice.

"Yeah." Parvati said.

"Somewhere." Seamus said with a shrug.

"Why?" Dean asked.

"Find them." I said. "And let anyone else from Gryffindor who was in the club know, but around our age or older, okay? And here, take this." I thrusted the bottle of Felix Felicis at Dean.

"What is this?" He asked.

"Felix Felicis." I said and I wondered how many more times I had to say those two words. "Luck potion."

The words seemed to mean different things to different people and it was Parvati who figured out what I meant.

"There's going to be an attack, isn't there?" She asked. She was just like her sister. "And Dumbledore isn't going to be able to stop it."

I nodded, "Dumbledore won't even be here. There'll be the teachers of course, and a few extra protectors, but not enough. I didn't originally see you all fighting, any of your for that matter, but that was only because you guys don't check your D.A. coins. Of course, Harry hasn't scheduled meetings so that's not your fault. Originally, it would only be Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Luna, and Neville."

"Just like the Ministry." Lavender said but I tried blocking out her voice.

"Something like that, yes." I said.

"We'll find our coins." Dean promised.

"Thanks." I said with a half-hearted smile. "But-"

They turned back to face me.

"Don't come if you're not up to it. And remember, that's twenty-four hours worth so you guys should split it between yourselves. When the coin burns, join Hermione and Ron. Staying in the common rooms will keep you safe if you're not up to the fight."

I turned and walked off with Trang towards the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom and respectively: Severus and Remus.

"At least you're warning them." Trang said lightly.

"Yes." I said. "Let's just hope that Draco doesn't catch wind of what we're spreading around. Surely he has to expect that I would've foreseen this, right?"

"Your nervous that he hasn't done anything to incapacitate you?" Trang asked curiously.

I frowned as we approached the classroom door. "I would think he would try keeping tabs on me so see if I tell anyone but I've doubled back and checked my surroundings triple times, I haven't found any signs."

"Maybe under his stress he forgot." Trang said with a shrug, "He's been looking sick recently."

"That is true. . ." I said hesitantly.

We entered the office. Severus had fallen asleep by the crib, his head resting on the bars of the crib, his mouth slack. Remus was also sleeping.

"He is precious." Trang said with a smile and forgetting our argument, we took Remus out of the crib and took turns holding him.

A knock at the door woke Severus and startled both Trang and me. Severus was on his feet in an instant. Trang and I hurried behind his desk, pretending as though we were in detention. I held Remus to my chest tightly, though not enough to hurt him.

"Oh, Professor McGonagall." Severus said in an uncomfortable voice.

"I was to give you this." Professor McGonagall's voice floated through the door. Severus left a huff of breath as though he was carrying something heavy and the door closed shut. I turned to see him holding a large package in his hands.

"What's that?" I asked curiously, handing Remus over to Trang so that I could go and take a look.

"No idea." Severus said, budging the door to our bedroom open and dumped the box on the bed.

He opened the package with care and kind've just stared into the box and then said, "It's obviously from Dumbledore. . . I think."

I peered into the box and saw the strangest things that I would have ever expected to see in the box. There were muggle baby toys and clothes.

"Oh." I said in surprise. "I wonder when he had time to get these."

Trang came over now, holding Remus in her arms and said, "Isn't he a little young for rattles?"

"But not stuffed animals." I said and though I was still confused, I reached in to take out a small panda bear toy before Severus took my hand carefully.

"Let me just go over it quickly, okay?" He asked. "For any dark arts. There's no name, I simply assumed it was from Dumbledore which was not a good idea."

"Test it for what exactly?" Trang asked, sounding skeptical.

"Poison, hexes, jinxes." I recited. "Transfiguration spells, anything really."

"Oh." Trang said and she held Remus farther away from the box.

"Check the panda bear toy first, please Sev." I said. "I'd like to give that to him right away."

"Will do." Severus said gently.

Trang and I took Remus back out to the main area and we played with him for a long time before Trang retired to the Ravenclaw common room.

Severus had moved Remus' crib into the bedroom in case someone unexpected came in without knocking and so I went back into the bedroom and laid Remus in his crib, carefully covering him with a blanket. He cooed and I looked down at him, smiling.

Meanwhile, Severus had separated the toys into two piles, though I didn't know what it meant. "Anything dangerous?" I asked.

"Nothing from what I've seen." Sev sighed, putting his wand down on the desk. "But I thought we should sleep with the stuffed animals before we give it to him."

I smiled, trying not to laugh at the silliness of the idea, and put a hand against his cheek. "You're a great dad, you know that?"

Severus was still fretting. "I mean, I did try reverse charms and revealing spells and I even hugged the damn thing, but I still don't know if it's safe."

Another knock on the door. Severus quickly swept through the bedroom door, snatching his wand from the table and shut the door behind him.

The voices were muffled though I knew the visitor was a man though I didn't recognize any one distinct voice.

He came back after a few minutes and picked up the panda bear, putting it in the crib with Remus and then turned to me, "It was Dumbledore." He said grudgingly, cheeks red. "I got paranoid."

I chuckled, helping him place all the other toys and clothes into the box they had come in. "Like I said, a great dad."

Severus pulled me into bed so that we could enjoy the night together. But like I said before: Remus doesn't like sleep.

⬅️➡️

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