#slytherin centric

[thechamberofcanon]

This is a beautiful story about Astoria Malfoy and her son Scorpius! ❤

Father's Legacy, Mother's Love by @midnightstargazer

OUR FIRST WORK FOR THE WHOLE FEST IS HERE! Thanks to MidnightStargazer for starting us off with this piece centering on Astoria Malfoy and the relationship with her son, Scorpius. Snippet and link below!

The middle name belonged to Astoria’s father. She knew he disapproved of Draco just as strongly as Narcissa disapproved of her, so perhaps it was only fitting that they both be represented in the name of the child who, if either of their families had gotten their way, would never have been born at all. In any case, Astoria loved her father, no matter how he felt about her choice of husband.

“Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy. Write that down on the birth certificate.”

A part of her wished she could pass down her own maiden name. The precious, innocent child in her arms had done nothing to deserve the one he was to inherit from his father. But that wasn’t how things worked, and perhaps it was for the better. Astoria could think of nothing quite so satisfying as raising her child to be the sort of person her in-laws would never want to carry their family name.

[t1oui]

i had another fic idea. (bear with me, it's a long one. read it after the cut.)

percy weasley was always the black sheep of the weasley family - the outcast, the nerd, the one who didn't quite click. so when he was sorted into slytherin, not gryffindor, it wasn't really a surprise.

the weasleys couldn't believe it, though, could they? percy was the smart one. the kid arthur and molly could brag about, the older brother fred and george could prank. slytherin was different. slytherin was a statement.

percy loved it.

for once in his life, percy was away from siblings, parents, and expectations. he was going to forge his own path, and they wouldn't have any hand in it - and that's why he was there, wasn't it? his ambitions, bigger than his family could ever imagine.

percy was still a good student, don't get me wrong. he studied hard and got good marks, and he befriended penelope clearwater, a ravenclaw who valued schoolwork even more than he did. percy was still a good student, still analytical and logical, but not nearly as uptight as his family remembered him. his parents watched as he smiled over letters with his new friends the summer after his first year, and the twins were surprised to see how often he laughed the summer after his second. when they joined him for his third year, their first, they couldn't help but grudgingly respect the easygoing, confident manor of the boy at the slytherin table.

by his fifth year, percy was fairly popular in his house. nobody made fun of him for being made prefect; instead, they congratulated him. as percy waited for his youngest brother to get sorted, he sat beside marcus flint, the two of them making small bets on which houses they thought the first years would be placed into.

neither of them put harry potter in slytherin. neither of them knew what to say when the sorting hat announced the boy who lived was a snake, and neither of them said anything as they accepted oliver wood's distant apologetic smile at the outrage of the gryffindors. harry was supposed to be theirs.

but percy knew that silence, that outrage, that surprise. the discomfort that came with expectations not being followed. so, really, waving harry over to sit beside him wasn't a difficult decision.

in harry's second year, as people spread rumors about him being the heir of slytherin, percy and marcus and oliver and penny and even cedric and cho, third and fourth years themselves, were always there to defend him. their youngest ally, their youngest friend, percy's brother. the boy who respected him, looked up to him, when his own family didn't.

ron and ginny were gryffindors, but harry was a slytherin. harry walked the halls with blaise zabini, draco malfoy, and pansy parkinson, but he also walked them with percy weasley and marcus flint.

as percy grew, watching the odd happenings that surrounded his brother, he learned not to assume the best. he never had, really, but now he knew more than ever how dangerous optimism could be. percy did not go straight into the ministry, still riding the high of being head boy. instead, he spent long evenings eating takeout in oliver's dingy london flat and meeting up with penelope and marcus to discuss books. (oliver said he would've joined their book club, really, but with puddlemere, he was far too busy, and none of them faulted him for it.)

when percy was 18, he was surprised to find tickets to the 1994 quidditch world cup in his mailbox, but he agreed to attend with his family. he received two tickets and chose to bring marcus, letting oliver use his second ticket for penelope. when death eaters arrived, the four of them stayed back to help usher people into the forest. they didn't show their faces, and even then, as he shared a look with marcus at the sight of the dark mark above their heads, percy knew what he had to do.

at the triwizard tournament, percy - now an employee of ludo bagman - found himself sitting with harry potter once again, watching him and cedric (who was already much bigger than the last time percy had seen him) compete. he saw the way harry watched cedric and cho at the yule ball and couldn't help smiling, knowing what it was and going to send oliver an owl about it as soon as he could. he's growing up, percy had scrawled, unable to contain his happiness.

when percy weasley was 19 years old, still a mere child, he didn't walk out on his family for the ministry. he didn't make his mother cry, and he didn't call harry potter a liar. he didn't deflect and forge papers for muggleborns, didn't get them to safe houses. when percy weasley was 19, he and marcus hugged oliver and penelope goodbye before leaving to take the mark, hoping that their sacrifice would be enough.

just like he had in his few months with the ministry, percy quickly rose voldemort's ranks. he smiled as he spoke of getting revenge on blood traitors like his own family, and he laughed when voldemort killed muggles before him, and he gained the dark lord's trust like no other. he sat around a table with severus snape and watched as his former head of house studied him, not realizing how similar the two of them really were.

percy did not forge papers or lead those in need to safe houses, but he didn't have to. that was oliver and penny's job, and he knew enough to know that they were doing it well. he couldn't send letters, but he could send a patronus, and when he learned of cho chang joining the order the second she was of age, he sent one offering his congratulations and telling her to stay strong. not like you aren't already, he'd said. she'd come a long way from the excited little girl who annoyed penny with talks of quidditch.

percy celebrated his 21st birthday with marcus flint and a silvery stag, curled up beside him with the promise of a reunion in the near future.

percy weasley was 21 when he arrived at hogwarts for a battle he pretended to be on the wrong side of. he kept his hood up and his mask in place, and he squeezed marcus's hand before he broke off into the crowd. he may have looked like one of the bad guys, and he may have acted like one all his life, but what was percy if not unpredictable?

when he found fred behind a crumbling wall barely separating him from three death eaters, he cast a spell. he didn't stop to see who he'd killed in favor of this boy (not his family, not anymore), and he didn't stop to revel in fred's surprise as his older brother's voice spilled from a death eater's mouth and told him to get to safety.

percy weasley did not slow down. percy weasley did not hesitate. percy weasley killed friends and foe - they were often one in the same, nowadays - and he fought until it wasn't his fight anymore. he fought until it was time for him to stand back, holding up a bleeding marcus as he watched his baby brother, the one with green eyes the same color as his tie, face off against the man he'd been reporting to for months.

percy did not cheer when voldemort fell, instead dropping marcus into oliver's arms and running foward to pull the brother he'd almost lost into a long-awaited hug.

"i'm proud of you," he whispered, and he held harry, let him sob into his shoulder, until aurors arrived and threatened to take anyone with a mark on their forearms. harry stood his ground, ready to defend, but he wasn't surprised to find percy gone. he walked back to blaise and pansy and draco, collapsed into their arms and gave a small smile to ron, the boy who'd given him company during the dark months in grimmauld.

percy weasley was tired, far more exhausted and far more mature than someone his age should've been. as he fell asleep in oliver's flat for the first time in years, squished between oliver and marcus on the couch, hands tangled in penny's hair, he couldn't help but smiling at one thought:

he was a better spy than severus snape. he was a war hero.

~

you can now read part 2, from harry's pov, here!

[norry-yippee]

This is just a little snippet of my fic since it will be a while till it’s out

inventing something together-hehenorahhehe

"That was hilariously stupid." Dorcas laughs.

"Whatever. You gonna tell me what's going on between you and Marlene." That shit her up real quick.

"She is an annoying moron." She shrugs.

"Who you fancy."

"Regulus, how many times do I have it say this. We aren't primary school children, I don't 'fancy' anyone." She uses air quotes. Regulus rolls his eyes, Cassie has always been very stubborn. And for Regulus to think that someone must be very stubborn.

"I don't know what you want me to say."

"Cas, I am saying this with all the love in my heart I have grown for you. I see the way you look at her.

“Cas, I am saying this with all the love in my heart I have grown for you. I see the way you look at her. I see your eyes, the way they are intently fixed on each other. You may think she is annoying, she is, but there is something else in there, I know it. I’m not an expert in romantic feelings, im actually pretty shit at it. But the way you look at her, the sheer desperation in your eyes. She might as well be sleep to the restless. I’m not telling you to show up with a boom box and confess your love. But please think about it, I have a feeling she feels a similar way to you.” He isn’t sure is she was actually listening, her eyes are blank and her mouth in a straight line.

“Cassie?”

“Fuck.” She whispers. “Damn it, Reggie. That was beautiful.” A sign escapes her.

“Well I’m not just beauty, I’ve got brains too.” She laughs and shoves him.

“You’re also entirely right, goddamn it. What do I do now?”

“I don’t know, talk to her, flirt a little. She has feelings for you too.”

“No she doesn’t.”

“Yes she does.”

“How do you know?” She counters.

“Yesterday, when you were braiding that little girls hair, Lizzie? She was watching so intently, there were stars in her eyes. It was the picture of romance. And I should know, I get paid to paint romance.” He shrugs and her eyes go a bit wide. “I’ll leave you to this.” He pats her shoulder and walks over back to his cabin.

[shadowjinx2906]

!NOT MY ART!

Felt like making a book cover for the ff I’m currently obsessed with while I wait for the next update 😊 (The Sensation of Screaming by itsallinthenamereggie on ao3—def recommend but it is on the heavier side of angst and I’m not sure how canon compliant it will be 🤷‍♀️ Also just realized I may have gotten the “Reggie, did you see?” quote wrong but I’m not sure..)

[olivers-cocoapuffs]

Rosekiller fics (all on ao3)

I’m not gonna teach him how to dance with you by greensenne

Aces up your sleeve by brtyls

Do you want me (or do you not) by graveryavery

I would say I love you (but it’s so hard, I won’t say it at all) by graveryavery

Yeah my boyfriends pretty cool (but not as cool as me) by paintmegrey {technically this is a starchaser fic but it’s got Rosekiller pov chapters}

Annoying by godforsaken_mess

kill your darlings by messermoon

stuck in your teeth by moonwater

like real people do by tsprongs

@roryy-the-male :)

[seriousbrat]

Do you find it difficult to write for Peter? I imagine it's hard to find the right balance in his characterization, especially considering people will be expecting him to be either totally useless and hated by the group or being totally equal and adored. I do think you do it very well though, he seems pretty realistic and in character imo

Ooh thank you so much for saying so! I really love this question.

The answer is sort of, sometimes! Honestly I don't find his voice difficult at all, I really enjoy writing him, but what I think can be a struggle with Peter is that he isn't a character that (initially) moves the plot along, compared to the others. He follows his friends, he trails behind, he's generally a passive character, so it's hard to give him active things to do within a story. I understand why people have a hard time knowing what to do with him, and either make him exit stage left during most scenes or just kind of eternally hover in the background lol. I know I've done that myself, and honestly, even though I think it was okay in part 2, it's part 3 where his arc really started to come together for me.

I'm obviously talking about the Hogwarts years here, since post-Hogwarts he has a pretty clear arc-- so during the Hogwarts years, it's all about setting up that arc, building up his motivations and foreshadowing his eventual betrayal. The way I see it he's already starting to do things that are basically small-scale versions of the betrayal, but because these actions are so minor they go completely unnoticed by the rest.

In my fic the first major turning point for Peter is during a Death Eater attack in their sixth year, when he turns into a rat and escapes, abandoning his friends who he knows are desperately trying to find him. This is never revealed to the rest of them, and Peter is at this early stage developing a habit of running from conflict and lying to his friends. During his seventh year he feels isolated from his friends and starts spending more time on his own as a rat, even failing to show up for his NEWT and lying about it later-- and in many ways that avoidance of real life is more comfortable for him. Obviously, the most extreme version of avoiding real-life consequences in this way is when he frames Sirius and then spends 12 years living as a rat.

He's terrified-- of losing his friends, of rejection, of failure, of the war-- and yet his fear is shameful to him, because cowardice is considered shameful by the in-group (Sirius and James) so he can't admit it to anyone or really face up to it. Instead he avoids it until it's too late, and then he avoids it some more by turning traitor and then by framing Sirius, then by running to Voldemort, etc etc until his death. It's almost like he's constantly in survival mode and always looking for a way out, while finding himself in situations that he feels are beyond his control but are really a result of his own avoidance.

Personally I did struggle a bit thinking of ways for Peter to move the story along or specific plot points for him during the Hogwarts years, basically ways to make him relevant, but overall I knew he was going to start unraveling early on. Peter's arc is initially very internal, nobody is ever aware of what's truly going on with him so unlike others it's difficult to tie his arc to the main plot-- but at the same time he's very observant, so he's a good vehicle through which to view other characters. He is constantly taking in information and thinking hard about that information, more than anyone else realises, which makes him a very good spy.

It can be difficult to find a balance with Peter though! As you mentioned, his standing in the group is tricky to get right, because it's somewhere between an idyllic, equal friendship and total rejection. They care about him, he is a member of their group, but they can also be disparaging, and they have no idea what's going on with him internally. They aren't consciously overlooking him, but he gets overlooked all the same. I don't think this kind of dynamic is that uncommon in real life tbh.

[scarsofstars]

My first fanfic ever (at least that one that i actually posted) is out!!

It’s a canon divergence au that loosely follows the fifth Harry Potter Book, starring Draco Malfoy!!

Summary:

When Voldemort wants Draco to become a Death Eater, Draco and his parents try everything in their power to prevent that outcome. Running away seems to be the only option to them. Seemingly successful, they ache to hide themselves in a safe house in muggle London, but things don't go as they should have.

Follow Draco's (not so) great Fifth school year, containing certain oddities, including, but not limited to, bumbling and meddling old fools, pranks on a certain toad, and a few new friendships and family bonds blooming in the wake of destruction.

———

I’ll try to post updates every week or so (don’t have concrete plans yet as i’m starting my last school year at the end of august) but i’ll try to be consistent and othesrwise post about any delays

[yantao-enthusiast]

dorlene will always be famous to me because just think about it!!!! imagine this tiny firecracker punk butch and this absolute slytherin GODDESS of a woman who dresses like a model and a deadly rbf like WHAT IF THEY KISSED WHAT IF THEY KISSED IDK IDK

[leeu16337]

Chapters: 3/9 Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Avatar: The Last Airbender (Cartoon 2005) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Regulus Black/James Potter, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, Aang & Toph Beifong & Katara & Sokka & Suki & Zuko, Toph Beifong & The Gaang, Marlene McKinnon/Dorcas Meadowes, Regulus Black & Barty Crouch Jr. & Pandora Lovegood & Dorcas Meadowes & Evan Rosier, Regulus Black & Sirius Black, Regulus Black & Kreacher, Regulus Black & Sirius Black & Bellatrix Lestrange & Narcissa Malfoy & Andromeda Tonks, Barty Crouch Jr./Evan Rosier, Mary Macdonald & Marlene McKinnon & Dorcas Meadowes & Lily Evans Potter, Mary Macdonald/Lily Evans Potter, Pandora Lovegood/Xenophilius Lovegood, Regulus Black & Luna Lovegood Characters: Regulus Black, Toph Beifong, Pandora Lovegood, Katara (Avatar), Barty Crouch Jr., Zuko (Avatar), Evan Rosier, Sokka (Avatar), Dorcas Meadowes, Suki (Avatar), Lily Evans Potter, Severus Snape, Sirius Black, James Potter, Peter Pettigrew, Remus Lupin, Narcissa Black Malfoy, Bellatrix Black Lestrange, Andromeda Black Tonks, Black Family (Harry Potter) Additional Tags: Regulus Black is Toph Beifong, Earthbender Regulus Black, Regulus Black Lives, Regulus Black Needs a Hug, The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, Regulus Black-centric, Regulus Black is a Little Shit, BAMF Regulus Black, Regulus Black & Sirius Black Have a Good Relationship, Regulus Black and Sirius Black Angst, Chaotic Regulus Black, Good Regulus Black, Waterbender Pandora Lovegood, Regulus Black & Pandora Lovegood Friendship, Pandora Lovegood Lives, Pandora Lovegood is a Malfoy, Lily Evans Potter & Severus Snape Friendship, Firebender Barty Crouch Jr., Firebender Lily Evans, Waterbender Severus Snape, Evan Rosier is a Little Shit, Severus Snape is a Little Shit, BAMF Dorcas Meadowes, Dorcas Meadowes is a Little Shit, the slytherin skittles are all little shits, Crack, Crack Crossover, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Avatar & Benders Setting, just no avatar, Fluff and Angst, Pandora Lovegood is a little shit, Regulus Black & Severus Snape Friendship, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Disabled Regulus Black, Blind Regulus Black, Animagus Regulus Black, animagus slytherin skittles + lily & sev, ALOT of references to ATLA Series: Part 1 of "Contrary to popular belief; I do, in fact, have a life outside of this fucking house, Sirius." - Regulus Arcturus Black, Slytherin Prefect, circa 1977 Summary:

There are three things most know before they ever meet the youngest of Blacks.

One: Regulus Arcturus Black is blind.

Two: Regulus Arcturus Black is capable.

Three: everyone is, to some measure, afraid of Regulus Arcturus Black.

Or: Toph Beifong’s soul is now inhabiting a body called Regulus Arcturus Black. The British Wizarding World weeps.

[idlyfretting]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Characters: Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson, Theodore Nott, Daphne Greengrass, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, Dolores Umbridge, Neville Longbottom Additional Tags: Hogwarts Fifth Year, Harry Potter is So Done, Anger, Slytherin Harry Potter, Not Canon Compliant - Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Harry gets re-sorted into Slytherin, but that's not the plot, Smart Harry Potter, Harry is a Little Shit

Summary:

“Longbottom is a worthless excuse for a wizard. He’s not even a proper Gryffindor, if there even is such a thing.” Malfoy glanced across the table at Crabbe and Goyle. “What kind of lion runs away from a snake?” The two boys and Parkinson laughed mockingly.

Harry had been content to just leave, feeling more irritated with the others than any actual anger. But as he was standing up, he caught sight of Umbridge sitting at the head table fairly close to the Slytherins, giggling into her napkin in obvious mirth.

Yeah, fuck that.

or

After being re-sorted into Slytherin at the beginning of fifth year, Harry has finally had enough of Malfoy. But instead of letting his anger take hold in a very Gryffindor way, he lets his inner snake out to play.

[strangerwheelerthings]

I know Hogwarts Houses are not the thing to do anymore, but I came across someone who called Nancy Wheeler a Slytherin, and my brain wouldn't rest until I figured out what she would actually be.

It's not that Slytherin wouldn't be a logical choice in some ways. Nancy certainly has a strong desire to prove herself and plenty of ambition. However, those things are not what drive her, what motivate her.

Nancy would think that she's a Ravenclaw. She highly values truth and knowledge, but it's a means to an end for her. It's not the end goal itself. Knowledge is important to her because of what it gives her, the power and ability to act, and to make a difference.

She is highly like Hermione in this way, but therein lies my reasoning for ultimately choosing Gryffindor. Nancy, for all her intelligence, can be the most reckless, dunderheaded ball of loyalty and courage in the world. She can be a straight-up battering ram when rules she usually respects get in her way. Her motivation ultimately ends up being centered on justice and protectiveness.

Her ambition comes from a desire to be someone who can make a difference in the world; who can be seen for who she actually is, but also just because she cares. She wants to help people, and she'll use any means she can think of to do so (legal or not, lol)

[filthy-mudeoki]

Always mine

She had known from the start that it was not true love. Yet, she had married him anyway. Perhaps this was the fates punishing her - a lesson learned, wisdom gained and all that shit... so maybe that accounts for the cheating spouse (soon to be ex), the meddling in-laws, and a new magical bond to content with. But that new fluttering craziness with her heart every time she sees him? It’s not wholly new but in a way it is now that everything is changing.

Either way, her life is a little (a lot) of a mess right now. She can’t help but think the fates are enjoying this a little too much.

Or

Ron and Hermione’s marriage comes to a startling and shattering end but her sassy, snarky lovely Slytherin’s don’t dare let her wallow in misery. They gently (and not so gently) help her heal and put back together her life, as a new bond is fighting to make itself known.

Read in AO3

[midnightstargazer]

Since I'm apparently in the mood to share my Marauders Era headcanons lately, let me introduce you to my version Evan Rosier.

He gets his Dark Mark at seventeen, before leaving school, completely by choice. He's a total bigot who 100% believes in the cause and an absolutely brutal fighter.

He's a bit of a Crabbe & Goyle type, more follower than leader, not especially cunning or ambitious. Much more competent than Crabbe and Goyle, though.

He was a childhood playmate of the Black brothers, but his friendship with Sirius fell apart when they started school. He and Regulus remain close friends up until Reg's death.

Around people he sees as his equals, Evan is actually a really nice person. Very charming, thoughtful, and friendly. But towards anyone but those few people, he's capable of incredible cruelty. He's one of the people Sirius was thinking of when he said, "look at how he treats his inferiors, not his equals."

He got kicked out of the Slug Club for calling Lily a mudblood right in front of Slughorn.

He starts dating Barty Crouch Jr. in his seventh year, Barty's sixth, and they stay together until his death. It's not sweet or cute. They bring out the worst in each other and enable each other's most unpleasant tendencies.

When Regulus starts to have doubts, but before learning about the Horcrux, Evan is one of the few people he confides in. Evan is having the time of his life as a Death Eater and dismisses Regulus's concerns.

Evan is one of the most ruthless and dangerous Death Eaters in Voldemort's army. He fights mostly via brute force, not strategy, but he's a very powerful wizard and has no hesitations about killing his opponents.

His best Unforgivable is Avada Kedavra. (Regulus's is Imperio. Barty's is Crucio. Isn't it lovely how they each have their own unique skills to bring to the table? XD)

During their school days, he got along better with the Marauders than most of the Slytherins, which is admittedly a low bar. In fact, while he considered Remus a filthy half-blood and Sirius a great disappointment, he was almost friendly with Peter Pettigrew. Do you see where this is going?

He decided early on that he would rather die than go to Azkaban. When he finds himself fighting Moody and realizes there's no way he's going to win, he refuses to surrender and fights to the death

[stackofstories]

shotgun rider | chapter four

Blaise nestled between an old beech tree and a cluster of bushes, relishing the solitude that enveloped him. To his delight, there wasn't a soul within earshot--a truly perfect spot.

The Black Lake shimmered beneath the brilliant midday sun, its surface a captivating sight. Groups of students congregated along its banks, some engrossed in various activities, be it reading, sunbathing, or playing games.

"Next time," Blaise remarked casually as he shed his outer robe, laying it out on the grassy floor. Removing his socks and shoes, he stretched out and closed his eyes, a contented smile gracing his lips. With such pleasant weather, he resolved to spend more of his free time in this serene setting--it certainly beat the confines of the dungeons or the library.

"You look comfortable."

Blaise opened an eye, squinting against the glare reflecting off Harry's round frames. Almond-shaped green eyes peered down at him with keen interest as Harry ruffled his own hair, further tousling it, before settling beside Blaise and discarding his worn socks and shoes.

"Where's Weasley?" Blaise asked after a moment.

"I dunno," Harry shrugged. "I think he’s playing chess with Seamus."

Harry's gaze drifted towards the lake, lingering thoughtfully for a beat. "Let's get closer." Without awaiting Blaise's response, he bounded up and headed towards the water's edge, settling in once his toes and ankles were submerged.

Blaise considered the option of staying put, basking in the warm sunlight, but a nagging sense told him Harry would persistently call out to him until he joined. With a resigned sigh, he rose to his feet, feeling a slight shiver as his toes skimmed the water before submerging completely.

"Do you know how to swim?" Harry suddenly asked.

"Yes," Blaise said, recalling that some of his earliest memories involved water. It was inevitable considering Italy's status as a peninsula, coupled with his family's summer villa situated on the shores of Lake Como.

Harry's cheeks tinged with a faint pink hue. "Yeah, of course. I never learned. They always took D to the pool and left me behind."

Blaise furrowed his brow. Who were 'They'? The Aunt and Uncle Harry had mentioned in Potions last Friday? Hadn't Harry said he never wanted to go back to them?

“Why wouldn’t your aunt and uncle take you too?” Blaise asked softly.

“I don’t really remember their excuses,” Harry replied, his head bowed as his feet swished just beside Blaise. “Uncle Vernon probably thought I’d get into some funny business, or Aunt Petunia said it was a Piers and Dudley event only, and Piers’s mom wasn’t sure about me.”

Blaise pursed his lips together, noting the clear disdain Harry's family held towards him.

“I hate being a kid,” Harry confessed. “It’s terrible. You can’t do anything. No one listens to you. You just have to swallow it until you get bigger. I didn’t know why I thought it would be different when I got here, but Snape, that big greasy bat, reminds me of the Dursleys.”

Blaise gazed at the cloudless sky, its bright blue expanse unobstructed. “But you have magic now and they don’t.”

Harry turned to face him. “I heard they take our wands at the end of the school year. I can’t do magic without my wand.”

Blaise snorted. “Yes, you can; in Africa, they teach their students how to mold magic without a wand. It just takes practice. As for wand removal, that applies to the Yanks. In Europe, we have the Trace. The Ministry tracks your magic until you turn seventeen.”

Harry's expression shifted. “I’ll have my wand, but the Dursleys don’t know about the Trace. I can’t do anything.”

Blaise chuckled and grinned. “So you would if you could?”

“No question,” Harry replied, his tone carrying a surprising amount of venom. “If I could, I would turn Uncle Vernon and Big D into pigs for real and serve them up. I love bacon and ham.”

“You’ll have to send me an invite for dinner, even if I wouldn’t eat such a low-class meat,” Blaise retorted, his tone dripping with haughtiness.

“Of course. You’re posh,” Harry remarked. “You probably speak three languages, have a ring on your pinkie, and go hunting in Balmoral with Mummy and Daddy.”

Blaise struggled to maintain a composed expression. “Don’t be daft. I’m not an American. Of course, I speak Italian, English, French, Latin, and German. And I do spend the first week of my summer hunting Aetolian boars and Acromantulas before retreating to our villa in Lake Como.” He held up his slim pinky, adorned with a heavy signet ring and crest.

Their eyes met, and they both erupted into laughter. Once again, Harry's proximity felt uncomfortably close. His slender shoulders brushed against Blaise's, and Blaise smelled summer sweat and quill ink.

Pulling back slightly, Blaise's smile remained undiminished.

“I might have grown up like you, like Malfoy. After all, I am the heir to the Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter,” Harry remarked, rolling his eyes. “I’d rather be Ron. He has everything, don’t you think? A house full of brothers and a mum and dad. It’s quite marvelous.”

Ah. Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, was astonishingly alone. It dawned on Blaise that Harry had been isolated and made to feel unwanted. It sounded as if Harry had been pushed aside, left to feel insignificant.

Blaise wasn’t sure how to process this information. He found himself grappling with conflicting emotions--was the idea ridiculous, sad, or perhaps a bit of both? He lay down on the sandy bank, feeling the pebbles dig into his arms and trousered pants.

Harry stretched out beside him, his pale skin reddening under the September sun.

“Dudley used to bully anyone who ever talked to me,” Harry revealed. “Now I have two friends.”

“I know Weasley. Who’s the other one?”

“Ron’s not my friend,” Harry clarified, then added, “There’s nothing wrong with him. He’s great, and I get on with him. He and his brothers are a riot.” A faint furrow appeared between his eyebrows. “I think we will be friends, but my first friends are Hedwig. And you.”

Blaise had grown up surrounded by a family full of cousins, all older and often indifferent. Being the youngest, he was often left to his own devices. His enduring friendships, like those with Flavia and Elia, were with peers from well-positioned families, two and three years older than him respectively, who attended Beauxbatons instead of Hogwarts.

On the journey to Hogwarts, Harry was Blaise's first encounter and his first, well, Blaise wasn’t too sure what to make of him. Harry stood out as the friendliest face in Hogwarts by a mile.

“I can’t have a friend who doesn’t know how to swim,” Blaise declared.

Harry responded by flinging water at him.

-

“What’s got you skulking about, Zabini?”

He spent the better part of his afternoon with Harry before writing and sending off a letter to Mamma.

Blaise whipped around to face the mocking tone. Mildly surprised, he found himself confronted by his older House classmates. They were vaguely recognizable, as was everything at Hogwarts. He had seen them at lunch and dinner, and he was sure they frequented the common room, but there had never been a reason for a conversation. Parkinson was the only face he knew, trailing behind the two brutes, her expression full of anticipation.

“All right, lads?” Blaise said coolly.

The path from the owlery to the main castle was empty. Blaise realized it now. His hand edged toward his right pocket.

“Just wondering when Hogwarts started to become the bin? They let all sorts in these days. Mudbloods. Monkeys,” the tall one with short-cut black hair and a protruding lip grinned nastily at him.

Parkinson and his companion laughed as if it was the funniest thing they had ever heard, while the black-haired one focused on Blaise with a spitting mean intelligence in his eyes. He was trying to provoke him.

Blaise curled his hand around his wand, inhaling deeply. “I wouldn’t be so quick to throw insults about blood status. I wonder what I’d find if I looked in your family tree; perhaps an unfortunate encounter with a troll.”

He took out his wand just as Blaise did. His companion was faster than both of them, shouting “Expelliarmus!”

Blaise’s wand flew from his hand and shot up in the air, clattering noisily several feet away from him. His heart thudded in his chest. Would he be fast enough to tuck and roll and aim?

Unlikely. There were three wands pointed at him, and he found himself in an empty corridor. He lifted his chin, sneering.

“Incarcerous,” Parkinson said in a clear, high voice. Blaise didn’t have time to dodge. Thick ropes flew from Pansy’s short wand and wrapped themselves around him.

He fell to the ground, bound and squirming as the thick cords rubbed harshly against him, seemingly tightening by the second.

“How does it go again?” Parkinson asked. “The song? My gran taught me. ‘Eeny meeny miney mo, catch a nigger by the toe, if he hollers let him…’ Are you going to beg us for help, Zabini?”

His heart was beating so fast it made him feel woozy. Blaise lay still on the cool tiles, staring up at Parkinson, then at the ugly black-haired one, and finally at the stocky blond.

“Look at me--” Blaise began frostily. “--look at my face. It’ll be the last good thing you see before I bring your life to rot and ruin.”

Another curse him came at him and Blaise convulsed, blood and bile filled his mouth as he fought to contain his screams. Above his bum he felt it--his tailbone--he felt the persistent and powerful knotting and then the rapid growth. It felt as if he was being torn into and pulled outward. How long it lasted, he wasn’t sure, but the end result was a long tail coiling on his leg.

Blaise turned on his side, spitting blood as the pain subsided slightly. He winced at the pinprick sensation on his bottom lip. A quick lick confirmed that his incisors had elongated and sharpened.

His three tormentors laughed in unison. "Now the outside matches the inside!" Parkinson giggled, her tone high and cold. "This was fun and all, but I'm off. Daph and Milly are expecting me."

Parkinson glided around him with delicate steps, leaving him with the two guys.

"Wickle monkey doesn’t need people’s clothes," the blond said nastily, viciously banishing Blaise’s clothing and ropes with a stroke of his wand.

Instinct propelled Blaise to reach for his wand. He lunged for it clumsily and fell to the ground. The two boys, not skilled duelists or particularly intelligent, allowed Blaise to seize his wand and prepare. It was a grave mistake.

"Duro Maximus!" Blaise said calmly, despite his heart pounding in his chest.

A brilliant white light engulfed both boys, eliciting a split-second scream before they turned to stone, their faces frozen in confused horror.

Blaise's wand radiated heat in his grip as he approached them. "Did you think I came to Hogwarts defenseless? That I would be one of those muggleborns who shoot sparks from their wands?"

The air crackled with magic. "I’m not a muggleborn, and I’m not a monkey. Perhaps if I used Reducto, it would be the lesson you all carry into your next life."

Blaise desired it too. When he closed his eyes, he envisioned them shattered on the stone tiles, tasting the bitter satisfaction of vengeance, blood for blood. They had crossed him, and it was only fair that he responded, setting boundaries to prevent such cruelty from happening again. Desire pulsed in his veins.

But Blaise exhaled heavily. "I’m not going to do that. I’m not," he said, as if convincing himself while still teetering on the edge. "When your friends ask you what happened, I suggest you tell them the truth. I showed mercy. I gave you back a couple of years on your life."

He glanced between the two statues. "I'll send someone to retrieve you," Blaise promised. However, he needed to focus on himself. He couldn’t very well roam Hogwarts in his current state. His nails dug into the wood of his wand as he stared intently at his feet.

"Accio!" he called envisioning an oversized cloak.

_

Madam Pomfrey startled easily, jumping a few feet in the air when he appeared in the Hospital Wing.

"Heavens!" she clucked her tongue disapprovingly. "You snuck up on me, dearie. Any chance you could pull the hood down for me? What can I help you with?"

Blaise wished he knew the Notice-Me-Not charm. The room appeared mostly empty, some beds had the curtains drawn shut.

Reluctantly, Blaise lowered his hood and met Madam Pomfrey's dewy brown eyes. Her round face wore a sympathetic expression. "Spell gone wrong, love? No need for the long face. It happens all the time."

"It happens all the time," reverberated in his ears, because yes, it did. It happened at six years old when his muggle primary teacher separated him from the other kids at nap time for being disruptive. It happened at ten when he was followed in a high-end store. And now, it happened here.

"My assailants need attention as well. I left them near the owlery tower," Blaise said smoothly.

It took a moment for realization to dawn on Madam Pomfrey's face. She hemmed as she struggled for words, and Blaise recognized this familiar discomfort. It was a space where he felt the need to apologize, his pain minminized an effort to accomandate and make palatable this truth; he was sorry for bringing this uncomfortable truth into the light. Mamma taught him never to apologize.

"May I have a bed and a set of clothing?" Blaise asked.

"Of course, dearie. Right over here," Madam Pomfrey said, leading him to the bed furthest from the entrance. "Without your badge, I’m not sure which house you belong to."

"Slytherin," Blaise said.

"Name and year?"

"Zabini, Blaise. First year."

"I have to report this incident to your Head of House," Madam Pomfrey said. "We have zero tolerance for bullying or discrimination of any kind at Hogwarts."

This witch, with hair as grey as storm clouds and liver spots on her gentle hands--did she really believe that? Blaise hadn't been at Hogwarts for a full week, and every day he had heard "mudblood" in the Slytherin common room. If that term circulated openly, Blaise didn't have to imagine what other thoughts swirled around Hogwarts. This wasn’t a case of a few bad apples.

"Fine. Whatever," Blaise said informally.

"We’ll have to fill a report, and if necessary, it will be escalated to the Headmaster."

Blaise closed his eyes. He had never wanted his mother more, to be back home in the safety of the familiar.

"When you find my Slytherin brethren, keep them away from me," Blaise said, looking at Madam Pomfrey. What she saw on his face, he couldn't say, but she pressed her lips together in a thin line and sharply nodded at him before leaving him alone.

Once she was gone, Blaise rose to his feet. He reached for the curtains, only to hear the familiar call of his name. So different from this morning and this afternoon.

"Potter," Blaise's lip curled. "What are you doing here? Do you have a tracking charm on me?"

Harry didn’t laugh. "I was practicing Incendio with Ron and the others and I ended up burning myself a little…" He shook his head, running a hand through his hair. "What happened to you?"

Blaise took a step back and sat on the bed. "I don't want to talk about it."

Harry’s face pinched with something like resolve. He glanced over his shoulder, then promptly closed the curtains around Blaise’s bed and sat beside him.

Blaise looked at his tail, hanging limply at his side. It was the exact shade of his hair.

Why was it the same shade as his hair? The same hair he had agonized over yesterday and spent two hours of his morning being cared for.

Parkinson’s braying laugh. The looks.

Blaise’s eyes burned. Swallowing hard, he scrubbed at them.

He wasn't--he wouldn't--

“It’s okay,” Harry said softly.

Blaise cried.

[iurissi]

hey! i wrote this series, im currently still adding too. (all the published works in it are complete.) the first two are basically general platonic barty and james interaction and stuff

the third tho is very pre-killerchaser

all are writen in barty's pov. so if your looking for barty centric fics then these are for you!

[bi4bisamjess]

Summary: There is a body buried beneath 12 Grimmauld Place. Its ghost leaks out through the walls, the pipes, the floorboards, the crown moulding. At night, it shakes the busts off their pedestals, leaves drawers hanging open like yawning, gaping mouths. It sinks steak knives into portraits, switches the silverware, moves furniture. By daybreak, it howls. It screams and moans and wails. Regulus hasn't been able to sleep for weeks. Sirius does not return to Hogwarts following 5th year. (AKA Sirius is missing, something is wrong, and the Marauders + Regulus do some mild breaking and entering)

The fourth (and penultimate) chapter of my Marauders fic is up. Target audience is as follows:

Haunting of Hill House enthusiasts

horror aficionados

non-linear narrative enjoyers

angst connoisseurs

Wolfstar and Jegulus devotees