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benefits1986 · 5 months ago

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Healing the inner child means going into the woods not to be stuck, but to revisit the lessons of all the adventures and misadventures.

One reason why I don't buy any Harry Potter Lego set is because it's perpetually added to my cart and I'm waiting for a legit price drop. I'm not keen on buying it online, too. There's a certain kind of kick whenever I pass by a Lego store even when I abhor yellow. And the prices are not joking, too. After 38 years, here I am finishing off my first ever intricate piece which is the Expecto Patronum set.

My brother egged me that since I'm innately bored and severely impatient, chances are, I'd end up asking his panganay, a Gen Alpha Lego fan to build it for me. Hinamon tayo. I spent my Saturday building up this set. I have errands in between. To capture the mood, I also rewatched The Prisoner of Azkaban. I told myself that it was about time for another encore.

Of course, I knew the scenes, but this time around, the subtext hits differently. Here's my tiny list of reminders which I must say is totes JIT.

1 The pain of losing someone you love will never end. But, choosing not to shut down any form of intimate connections will make that unfathomable and eternal pain worthless.

LUH. Boogsh. Ang aga-aga mo na naman, dhzai. I'll explain this once the right time comes. For now, I'm leaving it here as is, where is.

2 Dementors are depression blows. Their kiss signifies the spiral that leads to the most ego-shattering and heart-crushing meltdowns.

I've been putting off this thought for a long time, however, we're growing up and biking our way through this short life.

3 Patronus is the tiny spark that you have no matter how fucked up things get. That tiny spark is enough to let your light shine at its dullest and brightest, too. Choose your own adventure na lang talaga.

When Harry waited for James to save him during a near-encounter featuring the almost lifeless Sirius Black, Hermione told him it's impossible for James to do so. Harry felt so defeated because it meant his Mirror of Erised wish was but a fallacy, after all. Harry grumpily held up his wand and produced a really crazy-ass Patronus charm... a first, and an epic one, by the way.

Rewatching this yesterday made my tummy knot. OA na naman kasi malimit talaga nonchalant na ako when watching Harry Potter movies. Panget ng SFX pati CGI. Pati lifting from the books. LELS.

This is where I say that even when JK Rowling is obviously very ugh in terms of being anti-trans people among other cancel-worthy pakawala niya consistently, you separate the art from the artist.

The way she does subtext is just so magical and mundane. Grabehan. Iba talaga 'pag ang kwento mo ay hugot na hugot sa mga graphic lived experience like pagbasa ng mga letters from those na trapped sa conflicts na bloody, noh? Iba e. From the pusali, the pusakals, and the putang inang why naman kasi may ganito sa earth levels, however, it's a reminder to just do it, all for the greater good. Always. EMS. Kahit mahirap saka nakakatamad. LUH.

4 We are good and bad sentient beings. We're all guilty and not guilty, however, what matters most is choosing the things that take us closer to what defines us and what doesn't.

The scene where Voldemort tried to get into Harry hit so differently yesterday. It's very graphic in an untog sa marmol na pader or as toilet bowl vibe level. I said this so many times, but let me reshare: We are the choices we choose. In the same manner, we don't realize that we are also the choices we did not choose. Parang mas maganda lapag niyang statement na 'yan today. Or baka nga, super aga pa at maganda ang PL natin rn.

5 Bullying and being the bully is a legit combo for a fucked up adult life. It's pretty much like high school all day, every day.

As a batang 90s, for me, bullying and being the bully are part of the grind. Ganun talaga noon even for Gen X and Gen Z. Siguro for boomers, mga about war and post-war 'yung trauma.

The thing is that these triggers also fire you up and knock you out. Baka ako lang 'yan a. My rule of thumb remains the same: Bully ka ba or ikaw nambu-bully? Subukan mong 'wag magsimula lalo na't 'pag kaya mo namang palampasin. Also, 'pag sinimulan ka, siguruhin mong tatapusin mo at dudurugin mo ng pinong-pino. LOL.

I'll keep it here na lang muna because I'm dealing with a trigger na tinatawid natin na kinda recent. Hahahahahaha. Itatawid natin 'to ng pinong-pino with a baseball bat. Abangan! Hirap to choose peace pero we're trying our best to get there, kaso, wala e. Trigger is real na real. So far, the bright side is winning kahit g na g na g talaga ang dark side lalo kapag may any window ng shit na naganap. So, disengage na muna para less chances of pulling the trigger.

Lesson: 'Wag na 'wag ka na talagang magpalampas ng mga ungas kahit joke lang. ;-) Para ma-easyhan mo lang ang pinong-pinong pagtatapos na mala-baseball bat ang hagupit. And I, thank you.

6 Will you may turn back time, the truth is that you can never freeze time and the memories that come with it.

Syempre, feel na feel ko na Harry-Dumbledore kami ng nanay ko at tito kong mga Taurus. Eto na naman po. Sumisibat. However, I'm at the point of no return. WAW. Sana etong time na 'to e sa ngalan na ng pakak 14 going 40, ano po. Again, 'di ko sure if I'll reach 40, but, sige. Sa ngalan ng Europa at mga Harry Potter sets on the way to Diagon Alley and Platform 9 3/4, subukan natin.

There were so many delulu solulu times na gusto ko ng Time-Turner 'yung birthday wish ko. HAHAHAHA. Kasi feeling ko talaga, I can save my mom and my tito. 'Yung kaya ko pang itawid na mga senior citizens slaying life sila levels. Pero, mhie. Iyak-tawa ang ending. Kasi nga, their health conditions are slaying the trolls in the dungeons.

Matigas ulo ko e. Legit din. So, habang walang bakas most of my birthdays when they expired o kaya naman may malalang BTS mga pa-birthday surprises sa akin, gets ko na. Okay? Okay na! Hahahahaha. Tanggap ko na kahit ayoko pa rin 100% na: Time wasted beautifully is not wasted time.

Mom is time-rich. Tito is cash-rich. Both of them super OA na nonchalant ang takada. Passive-aggressive levels: Out of this cosmos. OCD: Wagas pero 'di halata unless may task na nilapag.

O 'di ba? Both ended their stories before they reached their 60s. Mga Taurus talaga cancer ng universe ko. LOL. And while I'm gonna be dealing with this twin loss na colossal damage talaga sa human nature ng noona n'yo, andito na tayo sa point na sige na nga. Sige na. Tama na pag-replay ng scenes to punish myself na ano pa bang dapat at hindi ko dapat ginawa? Finally? Sana! We're taking it one day at a time na ngayong H2 onwards. EMS.

Syempre, andun pa rin ako sa "almost is never (ever) enough" in Venti, pero, medyo may character arc development na tayo salamat sa pag-focus sa mga bagay na out of focus the past 12 years like: You can only do so much, so tumigil ka na diyan sa mga what if mo ng nakaraan, mhie. Malaki na bat wings and apron belly mo for those shit na poetic pero horrific. Lekat ka. Pak.

I can go on and on but, let's practice restraint. EME. Akala mo naman napaka legit ng mga lessons e 95% completion pa lang ang Expecto Patronum kasi nga, bobo tayo sa mga left and right and perspective. Eto 'yung time na gusto ko call a friend 'yung tagaggawa ko ng drafting plates ages ago na walang kapalit maliban sa kasungitan ko. HAHAHAHAHA. Pero big girl na tayo kaya isang leg na lang kulang and we're officially off to our next Lego build, baby.

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joannerowling · 1 year ago

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I'm a JKR blog. You get one guess as to why i comment on posts tagged JKR (and tbh i hadn't even noticed your url). If you don't want people engaging with your tumblr, you only have two options: block them or stop tagging.

the belief that her past experiences determine the way the whole world works

That is not quite what you've said in your original post though. That sounds more like what "terfs" or radfems actually talk about, which is sharing their experiences of sexual assault, or the precautions they've taken in life to avoid risking being sexually assaulted. These women bring up JKR's experience because they can relate, usually. I don't see how that's gross and disgusting. What i find gross and disgusting is the way the Sun (or was it the Daily Mail) published a picture of her ex-husband with the caption "yeah i slapped JK Rowling" the day after she had published her essay, in which she explains her reasons for not adhering to self-identification policies.

And on your fourth point: that has never been "terfs", or radfems's, argument. Most genuine feminists have never argued for trans women to be put in danger, whether it be in places with lower risks (such as public bathrooms) or those places with higher risks (like prisons). What women have asked for is the preservation of female exclusive spaces, which is entirely different than militating for no trans inclusive spaces. You mention shelters: most women requiring those shelters are deeply traumatised by men, and need time to process that trauma away from triggers. Your triggering effect on these women is not a moral failure on their part, no matter how much it hurts. Women have earned, fought for, the right to refuse male involvement in their lives, which were controlled by men for centuries pretty much every place and time on Earth, and continue to be to an extent. And, in the UK at least, that right is still protected by law.

All trying to force women into acceptance and ignoring their boundaries has done is radicalise more and more people *against* trans people and start creating actual transphobia where there used to be mostly compassion and empathy.

i wont convince you, you won't convince me, so this is also worthless and useless

Feel free to feel that way, but i don't think this sort of conversation is ever useless even if none of us changes our mind. The point isn't to convince you, the point is to show you that people can disagree with you and have their reasons and these reasons don't necessarily amount to "i hate you, i think you're a mentally deranged freak and a rapist by default, i want you dead". I'm not saying no "terf" feels this way. But i do know that JKR doesn't.

i will say that i think it's gross and somewhat cruel that people feel so entitled to discuss jkr's past sexual assault. i know she's talked about it openly but still. both terfs and anti terfs way too often talk about how she's either entitled to act like this because she's traumatized or go in detail about why they assume her trauma causes her this way but none of us are her therapists. we don't know shit bro. so what if you think her hyper vigilance of trans people comes from trauma? this is meaningless to the discussion. it changes nothing in any way. it doesn't give her a pass or make her look worse. it's ultimately unimportant. why are you bringing it up at all?

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moonlightdancer26 · 2 years ago

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Sirius Black is not gay, darling. JK Rowling has denied that. He had girlfriends at Hogwarts. Just because you don't have a love life doesn't mean you can say the same thing about Sirius. Cry more.

I’ve literally laughed at this ask for 5 minutes straight (🌚).

Anon, I have a genuine question: When did I ever say he was canonically gay? Are people not allowed to have headcanons about characters? If you’re one of those people who think this, then this is very clearly a you problem.

JK Rowling has denied that.

When did she ever?

He had girlfriends at Hogwarts.

Proof? Because the only “hints” with Sirius and women I can remember in the Harry Potter books are this:

He [Sirius] was very good-looking [...] and a girl sitting behind him was eyeing him hopefully, though he didn’t seem to have noticed.

A girl staring at him—basically only there to emphasise how attractive Sirius was is.

and this:

There were many pictures of Muggle motorcycles, and also (Harry had to admire Sirius’s nerve) several posters of bikini-clad Muggle girls.

Posters of Muggle girls—only there to piss his parents off. The keyword is Muggle, not girls.

and this line said by Remus on Pottermore:

“He always got the women” [after Tonks commented about post Azkaban!Sirius’s appearance]

This line is by far the “hintiest” one out of the three, but it could still mean “He always got women’s attention,” which is backed up by the fact that there was the girl staring at him during the O.W.L.s exam in SWM.

Newsflash: Sirius fucking Black had zero romantic history with both men and women. Sirius fucking Black could be straight, aro/ace, bisexual, gay, etc, for all we know. I have no idea why he has to be straight and why this whateverthisis means so much to you, anon. People can make headcanons about characters, how does me thinking he’s gay (pray tell where I ever said it was canon?) affect you in any way?

Just because you don't have a love life

*laughs in has-never-been-in-a-relationship-and-is-disgusted-by-everyone-except-fictional-characters-and-celebrities*

Darling, what makes you think you have the right to assume anything about me in real life when you can’t even go off anon and have a proper conversation with me?

doesn't mean you can say the same thing about Sirius.

“say the same thing about Sirius” …I headcanon him as gay??? How does that spell out “he didn’t have a love life” to you? Where did you even get this from… I literally ship him with people-

Cry more.

See this is funny because you’re here all butthurt and then insult me—a real person—for a headcanon I made about a fictional character’s sexuality. I don’t think it’s me who’s crying here, love. 💀

#siriusly why is anon so mad about this?? 💀#sirius black #harry potter #hp #ask #asks

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pottergerms · 3 years ago

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Hi, I saw your post about "mourning" the HP series. I feel like lots of fans feel the same way, and I'm very sorry. But I see also a bright side over all the JK Rowling controversy. I'm a trans woman, I'm a writer (somewhat) and HP was one of the books I'd read when young that inspired me to be a writer. Yes, I am angry and hurt by JK and her transphobic ideas, but I don't mourn HP because I don't think HP belongs to Rowling ever since the moment she decided to publish it. Yes, I'm aware of the huge forture she earns and will continue to earn from it, yet I believe that "publishing" means "take to the public/to the people". We are the public.

Karl Marx said something (I won't remember where) that "once an idea is spoken out loud it doesn't belong to the one who said it anymore". Of course he was talking about the political movements that his ideas inspired in Russia, But I think he was right. About any and every idea.

People saying to "leave the fandom", or "read other books", are very simplistic. I went to Malaga and visited the Pablo Picasso Institution fully knowing Pablo Picasso was a sexist pig and a women abuser - and okay, maybe I wouldn't have done if he was alive and profiting from it - but what I mean is: I did not feel conflicted about enjoying his paintings, because for me it was more important to me how ~I~ felt about them, than what they were supposed to mean by the painter. I do the same about HP now.

I ask everyone: don't leave. No, The Harry Potter fandom always been an expert on not giving two shits about JK. Fanfiction has always been an act of freedom and rebellion. Why are people feeling less inclined to write / read fanfics now that JK is openly a bitch? It should be the other way around, no?

Write as many HP characters as possible as trans! Make it be the answer to the bigotry coming from the author mentioned in the disclamer!

When I was young, I always related to Draco Malfoy and I was ashamed to say he was my favourite character. But I couldn't help it. I also did go to a private school, I also felt like I need to be the best to impress my parents, I was a meanie, I was closeted (I always read Draco as a closeted gay kid) and I also came from a somewhat rich background. And my mother also spoke french.

I used to read lots of mpreg Drarry fanfics, mostly the ones with pregnant Draco. I didn't know yet why that concept of a man getting pregnant, the gender-swap and the (sometimes awful) feminization of my favourite character, fascinated me. Years later... Ta-da! I'm trans.

I am still very much in love with this fandom. And now, I have the pleasure to watch it's creator die of hatred for what she has created, because somehow, in a way, it created me.

I am speechless by this. Thank you SO MUCH for sharing all of that 🥺

I don’t have much to add because your experiences are yours 💛 but I want to share that I’ve also related to Draco for this reason… and being out as bisexual really did change my life. I would not have done it without this fandom, and without fanfiction especially.

JKR is the fucking worst, but I agree that we took Harry Potter from her a long time ago, even before her Twitter account. We always knew she wasn’t good enough to own its canon.

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thessalian · 2 years ago

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Thess vs Transphobic Bullshit

JK Rowling continues on with her TERF bullshit.

Basically the situation is this: Graham Norton, a very well-known and reasonably well-respected TV host, happened to say to a journalist that, if people have questions about trans issues, they should talk to trans people, trans experts, and the parents of trans children. (I assume that last is either to help them understand how to be supportive of trans people below the age of majority, or to understand just how shitty a transphobe can make a trans person’s life.) Basically it was, “I’m not the one to ask this stuff; ask the people who are actually affected by it”. Which is a good thing. Owning your privilege feels like it should automatically include handing the people who are being oppressed the microphone and just standing back.

This was her response. Basically she was saying that because Norton said, “Hey, how about hearing from the people who are affected by this instead of getting your takes on things from a cis celebrity”, what he actually meant was, “I am defining what a woman is and am also totally cool with the death threats and rape threats that TERFs get for disagreeing”.

Apparently, this took off with her various followers to the point where Graham Norton got hounded off Twitter. His account is now shut down. General consensus is that he took it down himself. I gather there’s only so much people are willing to take in these sorts of situations.

I got this from Reddit, from a subreddit I follow that talks about what’s going on in this fucking country. The flare used for this post, and posts like it, is “TERF Island”. And honestly, the responses in that self-same forum just highlight the problem that is, unfortunately, a national thing. A small but incredibly vocal minority saying shit like, “I don’t want men using women’s bathrooms no matter how successfully they’ve convinced themselves they’re not men, or how much like women they look”. Which ... we have been over this countless times. A trans woman is not going to get her dick out in front of people in a woman’s bathroom, because there are cubicles. Also consider that trans women may well be straight trans women and have no interest in men that way, so why the hell would they bother? And finally, no one, cis or trans, with sexual assault on their minds is going to stop because of the sign on a fucking door. Not to mention the fact that this obsession with people’s genitals is just creepy and weird. And yet, this country is changing its laws to allow trans women to be banned from women-only spaces “if it seems justified”. Which ... I mean, this country’s government ‘justifies’ the most egregious shit, so...

I am tired of it. I am tired of people being entirely defined by their birth genitalia - and I don’t just mean in terms of their gender expression. I mean that no one talks about trans men sexually assaulting cis men and boys in the men’s room. Because apparently, according to these so-called “feminists”, you can only sexually assault someone if you have a penis. The implication is, in fact, that it’s the penis that makes you want to sexually assault people. Which is just a gross way to look at men. I’m tired of the “men are defined and ruled entirely by their genitalia” bullshit. I mean, we’ve all seen the news stories of women who have committed sexual assault on men, often minors, when in positions of authority (like a teacher to her student, for instance), and it honestly disgusts me that so many people are just like, “Well, I bet he enjoyed it. He’s a guy; what guy wouldn’t?” Sexual assault is a shitty thing and it has nothing to do with what’s in their pants. Sometimes, some people are monumental shitlords. That’s not their genitalia; that’s just them.

So, yeah, JK Rowling does not deserve anyone’s money or praise. Harry Potter wasn’t good enough to absolve her of this. Nothing she has ever written or will ever write could possibly be good enough to absolve her of this.

#Thess vs TERFS #tw: rape #(sort of)

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remuslupinfortherapist · 2 years ago

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Chapter 1 of my fic, I’m Fine! The rest can be found on ao3 or ff.net. Please see pinned post!

TW: SELF HARM

This story contains mentions of self-harm. If you struggle with this, please know you are not alone and you are loved. If this is triggering to you, please don't read or skip over the SH parts. A story I'm writing to cope with my struggles is not worth messing up your mental health, ever. If anyone ever needs to chat, my inbox is always open:)

This story takes place in an AU timeline where Sirius and Remus rescue Harry from the Dursleys when he was young (around 4). They both teach at Hogwarts. This is Wolfstar, but it isn't the main focus of the fic.

I don't own the rights to Harry Potter in any way shape or form. That belongs to JK Rowling. In addition, I love the HP universe, but I do not support JK's transphobic comments and other hurtful remarks and beliefs. You are loved just as you are. You are enough and worthy of love.

———————————————————————-

Sirius Black smiled as his 5th year Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs filed into History of Magic. While he wished he was teaching a subject that was a bit more exciting, he knew Dumbledore did not want him in the cursed position of DADA. Besides, his upbringing more than prepared him in the history of magic, especially where purebloods were concerned.

Sirius shook his head at himself and greeted some students as they came in.

"Hello, Mr. Finch-Fletchley."

"Good afternoon, Ms. Patil."

"Hi, Mr. Longbottom. How's Trevor?" He asked, hearing about what happened to him in potions.

Snape, the greasy git, had tested a shrinking potion on him, without Neville's consent, of course. Neville and the other Gryffindors were horrified and it added to the strain of the stressful year for the poor 5th years. They not only had their OWLs this year, but Voldemort had returned, Cedric had died, and the revolting toad, Umbridge, was their DADA professor. Sirius held back a shudder thinking of the slimy woman.

"He's doing much better, thanks, Professor!" Neville said. "In fact-". Neville kept talking, but Sirius didn't hear the rest of what he had to say. He noticed Ron and Hermione were walking in, looking concerned, and Harry was several feet behind him, walking on slowly, not looking happy at all.

Sirius nodded at Neville before studying his godson again. He had bags underneath his eyes and Sirius hasn't been seeing him eat much at meals in the Great Hall. He's been avoiding Sirius and Remus for months and only interact with them when necessary. He hasn't talked as much and the trauma he went through is weighing heavy on his shoulders.

Sirius has talked to Remus about this, knowing that Harry has had no outlet and they were both so worried about him. They wanted to allow him to process and come to him when he was ready, but they knew they would have to intervene soon.

"-Thanks again for asking, professor," Neville said, finishing his story.

"Of course, Neville," Sirius said, smiling genuinely at the kind boy before walking over to Harry.

"Hi, Mr. Potter. Glad you're here." Sirius said, trying to catch Harry's eye.

"Uh, hello, Professor," Harry mumbled, briefly looking at Sirius before turning his gaze on the ground, making his way to his seat.

Sirius bit his cheek, knowing that it was not the time or moment to say anything, but knowing that he couldn't let this go on further.

He greeted a few more students before making his way to his desk and writing Remus a quick note. Sirius sealed it in an envelope, wrote Remus' name on it, and tapped it with his wand before the note went flying out of the classroom, the door shutting behind it.

Sirius scanned the classroom and clapped his hands together, effectively getting the attention of the class. "Good afternoon 5th years! Alright, it looks like you're all here today except for Ms. Abbott. Is she okay?" Sirius asked.

"Professor Black, sir, she's in the hospital wing. She's fine, just had an accident with a spell. She'll be out by tomorrow." Susan Bones said, raising her hand.

"Thank you, Ms. Bones. Please send her my regards. I will try to see her soon." Sirius said, sending her a crooked smile.

Susan smiled back at him and nodded.

"So, for today's class I am going to lecture for a bit while you lot take notes-" He was cut off by groaning from most of the class.

Sirius held his hands up. "Hey, I've got to get you ready for your OWLs. Besides, you didn't let me finish. I'll lecture for a bit and then I'll give you all time to come up with questions and talk to each other deciding what to ask and if you all can help each other. Then we'll come back together and go over the questions. I'll even let you out 15 minutes early if you can suffer through the lecturing."

Many of the students perked up at that last part and got out their quill and parchment, ready to take notes.

Sirius allowed the students a moment to prepare before beginning.

"So, the Goblin War of 1796." He wrote that on the board and turned back to his class, continuing to talk.

Sirius lectured for the first 20 minutes or so of class and wrote on the chalkboard. He answered a few questions during the lesson, all but one coming from Ms. Granger.

While he was lecturing, he noticed most of the students were listening and taking notes. One was trying not to nod off in the back. Harry, on the other hand, looked exhausted, but very awake. He took some notes but didn't take them all. Sirius noticed him clenching and unclenching his fist and rubbing his hand. Sirius knew something was up, but he couldn't place it until Harry pushed his sleeves up.

There.

Sirius could tell Harry had a weak concealment charm on his one hand and another on his arm.

Pushing down his worry, Sirius turned away from Harry and kept lecturing, trying to finish his topic so he could talk to Harry.

"Okay, you have 10-15 minutes to collect your thoughts and then we'll come back together," Sirius said, nodding at his class.

The students turned to each other and started talking. Since they were comfortable with each other and Sirius, it didn't take long for the classroom to get loud enough that Sirius could make his way to Harry who was just sitting there.

"Got any questions?" Sirius asked Harry kindly.

"Uh- not right now," Harry said.

"Harry, are you okay? I'd ask this after class, but you've ignored me every time I've tried to hold you after and you don't come early. I hardly see you. Please, what's going on?" Sirius asked, keeping his voice quiet enough so no one else could hear.

"I'm fine," Harry said firmly.

"Why do you have two weak concealment charms on your arms, then? Why have you taken half a page of notes when it should have been at least two pages. Did you fall during Quidditch? What's wrong?" Sirius pushed.

"I said, I'm fine," Harry said forcefully, pushing his sleeves down.

"No, you're not. You're not eating or sleeping. You haven't visited. You haven't talked to us. And Harry, I know you can do a concealment charm without me noticing. You've got to be exhausted to cast it like that. Why the glamour?" Sirius asked, not willing to give up on Harry.

"Leave me alone," Harry growled, his eyes ablaze.

Sirius may have worked on his temper over the years, but he certainly hasn't squashed it.

"That's it." He muttered, quickly grabbing Harry's hand and muttering "Finite Incantem."

Slowly, but surely, bright, angry lines began to appear that looked like words. It didn't take another second for the words to appear in all their glory.

I must not tell lies.

Sirius and Harry both froze for a second, but Sirius just managed to beat Harry.

Harry had stood up before Sirius waved his wand. Harry tried to take another step, but he was stuck.

"Class dismissed," Sirius said loudly, his voice cold. "We'll pick up where we left out next class."

"But Professor-" Hermione began.

"Leave," Sirius said, his anger threatening to boil over.

Those students scampered out of that class as fast as they would detention with Snape. Never have they seen their teacher so angry before.

Harry, once realizing he was stuck, bit his lip in anger. He quickly tasted blood and sat down, starting to stuff his backpack. He wanted no part in this. He didn't even ask for this!

When the last student left, Sirius pulled a desk over to face Harry.

"What happened?" He asked, his voice shaking with anger.

Harry didn't reply, clenching his fists.

"Harry, this is serious."

Somewhere, deep inside, Harry knew it was indeed serious because Sirius never used that word unless to joke about himself.

However, Harry had no humor right now. He couldn't 't even make a Sirius/serious joke. He was hurt and angry and wanted to leave.

"Harry James Potter!" Sirius said loudly, standing up.

Harry didn't even look up but flinched at the use of his full name and loud voice.

Sirius sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He walked over to his desk and wrote another note to Remus, this time telling him to come to the classroom as soon as he could. Sirius flicked his wand and this time the letter flew out the window.

Sirius knew he needed to calm down. He took a few breaths and looked outside before walking back over to Harry.

"Harry, pup, how did you get that?" He asked gently, trying to look in his face.

"Unstick me. I-I can't be stuck." Harry said, trying to keep the panic out of his voice.

The last time he was stuck in a spot was when Voldemort had returned. Cedric had died.

Cedric had died.

Sirius nodded but before he said anything he said, "You can't just run, Harry, do you understand?"

Harry nodded, just wanting to be unstuck.

Sirius once again waved his wand and Harry felt his feet become free and he let out a breath, feeling better.

"Now about your hand-" Sirius started.

"Sir, it's from a detention I don't really want to". Harry started, but now it was Sirius' turn to cut him off.

"A DETENTION? WHO DID THIS TO YOU? WHAT HAPPENED?" Sirius shouted, enraged.

"STOP! That's what they want, okay? Just leave it be!" Harry said, standing up.

"Who wants? What? No! No one can hurt students in detentions! Who is hurting you?" Sirius asked again, shock still clear in his voice.

Harry tugged at his sleeve, not knowing what to say next.

"Is that what the other charm is, too?" Sirius asked.

Before Harry could even deny it, Sirius canceled the glamour on Harry and he saw scars, but these didn't make words. They were lines. Some were red and angry, and others were faded pink.

Sirius blanched. "Harry. Harry!" He whispered, grabbing his godson into a hug.

Harry yanked away as soon as he could, feeling overwhelmed.

Sirius knew this, too. He saw the energy around Harry and could feel it.

"Harry, you need to calm down. We're going to talk about this, but first, we need to calm you down."

Sirius knows how powerful Harry is and he hadn't had an accidental magic outburst in years. He knew that this wouldn't be good and he didn't want his godson any more hurt than he already was.

"No! You had no right! Just leave me alone!" Harry shouted.

"I'm your professor and godfather! I have every right!" Sirius said, raising his voice.

"Fine, professor!" Harry spat, grabbing his stuff and taking a few steps back.

"Harry, what is going on, you need to talk to me," Sirius said, his voice stern.

"I'm FINE! LEAVE ME ALONE!" Harry said, running out of the room.

Sirius ran after his godson. "Harry, Harry! Harry stop!" He shouted.

Unfortunately, Harry was faster and not only ignored Sirius, but nearly knocked down Remus.

"Whoa, whoa whoa! What is going on?" Remus asked, looking at his friend and where Harry just ran.

Sirius ran a hand through his hair and muttered, "Come on." Leading Remus into the empty classroom they were by. Sirius cast a silencing charm and began to explain.

Remus was Hogwarts' resident therapist and guidance counselor. Remus loved his job. He advocated for it, knowing how he needed someone like that as a student, and much to his relief, Dumbledore agreed. Remus not only went to school to be a professor but also studied at St. Mungo's on their psychiatric floor. Remus will teach the first and second years with Sirius and switch off and the rest of the time, he will be in his office. He sees students and has talked to staff and alumni. Remus has also been known to tutor students as well.

Currently, Remus was finishing up a session with a second-year Hufflepuff when Sirius' first letter arrived.

He quickly scanned it and said, "I apologize, Claire, please continue."

While the contents worried him, he knew he only had another 10 minutes with her and wanted to finish up.

When Claire left, Remus added a few notes to his files but was not able to shake the worry he had.

He quickly finished up before leaving his office, but only to take two steps out before finding a fight was about to break out.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Remus said, disarming the students. "Let's chat." He said.

Remus listened to them and mediated for them. He was watching them walk off before Sirius' second letter came to him.

This time, Remus went into a run.

It is certainly not normal to see Remus running in the halls, but it normally happens once a year so it wasn't completely unheard of. Most of the students were in class, anyways so it wasn't crowded.

Remus, still running was almost bowled over by Harry, whose magic was literally radiating off of him. Remus looked at Sirius who brought him into an empty classroom and put up a silencing charm.

"What is going on!?" Remus asked.

Sirius, in tears, let out an anguished yell.

Remus went into therapist mode. "Padfoot, take a breath. You're okay. What happened? Is Harry okay?"

"No, he's not. You- you need to go to him." Sirius said, falling against the wall and sliding down to sit down.

Remus followed him.

"I will, but first you need to tell me what happened?"

"I asked him what was wrong. He kept avoiding us and I needed to know."

Remus already knew this wasn't good and he didn't even know half of it.

"I then saw the glamour charms he had. He can do them, we know that, but these were poorly done. I took one off and Remus, this boy had words carved into the back of his hand. I must not tell lies."

Remus' head shot up and Remus knew it would be hard to keep Moony under control.

"I know that and that's the work of a BLOODY BLOOD QUILL!" Sirius shouted. "Harry said he got it from detention. I don't know who gave it to him, he hasn't said."

Remus could tell that this wasn't the end, but he didn't know how it could get worse.

"Remus, I removed the other glamour and there were lines. Remus, he's hurting himself." Sirius choked out.

Remus' neck snapped up and looked at Sirius. "Are you positive?" He asked, his eyes becoming more amber.

Sirius nodded sadly. "I'm sure. I-I remember what it looks like." Sirius admitted.

Remus swallowed the lump in his throat and hugged his partner before kissing him on the head.

"I need to get to Harry. Are you okay until I'm back?" Remus asked.

"I'll go with you!" Sirius said, jumping up.

Remus smiled sadly. "Sirius, I love you and so does Harry. Right now, I just need it to be us."

"Remy!" Sirius whined, wanting to help his pup.

Remus shook his head.

"Fine, but we don't even know where Harry is," Sirius said.

Remus pulled the parchment from his cardigan pocket.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." He said, tapping his wand.

They opened up the map and looked for Harry, trying to find him.

"There!" Sirius shouted. "There he is!"

Remus sighed with relief. "I'll be back. Go to our quarters. Have tea and chocolate. We'll be okay." Remus said hurrying out, talking over his shoulder.

Sirius did not feel like crying where anyone could stumble upon him so he took a breath and did exactly what the doctor said before breaking down in their quarters.

Remus didn't run but did hurry his way to Harry.

He was in a somewhat secret part of the castle. It was hidden and where Harry has had a password, but it did not use to be secret. When Hogwarts did not need the classrooms anymore, they decided to lock that part away, knowing the castle was confusing enough without empty rooms.

Remus was trying to keep his therapist head with him and push down Moony who wanted to scoop his cub up and run away and watch him forever. Remus knew he couldn't do that.

Remus, once at the door Harry was in, double-checked the map before muttering, "Mischief managed," and pocketing it.

Remus took a deep breath and opened the door to the classroom

#harry potter #remus lupin #sirius black #ao3 fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #fanfic #triggering stuff #self h@rm #be safe #chapter 1 #please reblog

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sapphiclizziebennet · 2 years ago

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sometimes i wish i could view gender in a heteronormative way and only that because that would make it so much more simple. in a heteronormative society, i know for sure that i am not a woman and do not want to be seen as a woman. i don't connect with that at all. but outside of that? where anything is everything? am i a woman? i kind of hate the idea, i don't want to wear that label and man it would exhaust me being a woman all the time even outside of that, but there is still that blip in my mind that worries that i'm faking it. that i'm only this way because i'm just internally misogynistic, or hate what heteronormativity tells women they should be, or whatever.

i fucking hate the idea that you have to be trans only in one way. gender dysphoria does exist for me but i still question whether it's from inside or whether it's from outer sources, even though i was binding my chest as a young teenager and loving how i was perceived when i cosplayed men. there is still. that. voice. not because i'm not trans, but because heteronormativity and subsequently that lack of it is something my brain is trying so hard to hold onto like a tether but it just won't let go.

admittedly, i've been doomscrolling a lot of trans hate recently. been rooting around on r/detrans (which is not intrinsically trans hate but man a lot of former trans men detransition and become terfs), reading terf threads on twitter from teenagers who think being a radical feminist is edgy, the replies on jk rowling's posts, libs of tiktok, the list goes on and on. it's just really scary to be anything but the norm right now. i'm really scared. i think this gender thing goes down far deeper than i ever anticipated it to. i don't know how to ask people to sometimes use "he" pronouns for me, or what it means that i still wear dresses and supposedly act feminine to others when i do it (although via the aforementioned heteronormativity anything i do is feminine, even when i basically often see myself as a man in a dress of sorts. it's a masculine dress lmao). friends irl, newer ones who have only known me with they/them pronouns, still mess them up and god it does hurt every time. it cuts so deep.

i also was looking at some artists on twitter that i had to unfollow a while ago, both of whom recently came out as transmasc and still present rather femininely, they're dating and living the life i want. i want to be them and the jealousy boils in me like a fever i can't sweat out. i wish i was thin, so people would see me differently, i wish my voice was deeper, so people would see me differently, i wish i was beautiful or handsome or cool or coordinated or nice, so people would see me differently. all of those things. i am not handsome i am not pretty i am not anything and that still makes me question all of this. who would i be if i did not hate my body? i think i've done okay separating it from dysphoria, but i still question things.

my mother hates everything queer about me. when i try to say something about it she goes silent. the other day i referred to an old friend with their pronouns, they/them, and she said "oh, (name) is a they now?" and the conversation ended with "well that's one way to confuse people." and yeah, she'd never kick me out for being gay or trans, but i feel it. i know it. i am not the thing you made in your womb to you. i am something else entirely and i wish i could figure it out.

some people would say this turmoil is a sign that i'm not trans and that terrifies me to my core. but this is what being trans in a world that doesn't like it looks like. i only hate it because of what is being served to me. i love gender so much but god everything sucks in the world right now. i wish people would fucking believe me. i wish people who meant well didn't mess up my pronouns. i know they see me as a woman. i just know it. i hate it.

sorry i wrote this much i just have a lot of thoughts tonight. thanks if you read this far i guess

#really detailed thoughts about gender. sorry about it #sarah why

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yellowsuitcase · 4 years ago

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Betwixt; Draco Malfoy: Chapter - The Job

Introduction(please read!)

First and foremost, warnings will be posted at the beginning of each chapter, but as a forewarning this story will contain mentions of sexual assault as well as swearing/strong language, and smut.

There are some characters in this story that are mine, however, the majority of them are based off of characters in JK Rowling's Harry Potter series. I do not support JK Rowling.

This is a Royalty AU, magic as seen in the Harry Potter series does not exist within this universe.

This series is also being posted on Wattpad @Tonix27 and it is currently In progress / Completed

I plan to create a Spotify playlist for this story, when I do it'll be posted in my masterlist for Betwixt.

Cover and Beta work by @10amnoodles on Instagram and Twitch

Please do not repost. There are trends on Tik Tok of people taking sections of writing from their favorite fanfics and posting them, I do not want this done with my work. However, you may post a screenshot of the fanfic's cover with the summary.

A/N: First chapter of the series I’ve been working on! I’m so excited for you guys to read this!!!!

Summary: To make ends meet after her mother's death, Y/N, a young mom, living within the kingdom of Sithrawl, lands a job at the castle working for the Royal Family, specifically for the prince, Draco Malfoy. What starts as a way to make money for her son quickly turns into an unexpected romance between her and the prince. Y/N soon finds herself stuck between her responsibilities as a mother and her longing for love and adventure

Warning(s): Swearing

Word Count: 5.9k

Credits: @10amnoodles Check her out! her artwork is incredible and this series wouldn’t be happening without her :)

Directory

I shut the rickety door and leaned against it, the weight of my body keeping it closed. A deep sigh left my lips, and I relaxed my shoulders, finally feeling safe. It was silent in my home. Jasper must be asleep. I pushed myself off the door and crept around the corner. The wall was cold to the touch, and I was surprised to feel an indent underneath my fingertips. I pulled my hand away to see a long crack embedded in the plaster. There were already so many in this damn house, not to mention the little holes in the roofing and the lack of insulation. It was getting colder every day.

Sighing to myself, I made a mental note of the new damage and peeked into the bedroom. There he was, his dirty blonde hair cast over his eyes as he slept. I put my hand on his shoulder and gently shook him, waking him up. He rubbed his eyes sleepily. Upon seeing me, he jumped up. “Mummy!” he said excitedly. My heart swelled as I took my boy into my arms and hoisted him onto my hip.

“How are you, my love? Hungry?” I ask. He nodded eagerly. I chuckled lightly at his toothy grin. He was always hungry, but weren’t all six-year-olds? Luckily for him, I managed to get some bread for free down at the market. Mrs. Weasley, the kind woman at the bakery, has been sneaking me food for the past two weeks. And although I was grateful for it, I was also ashamed. I would’ve been able to pay for her tasty treats, but my family’s funds had been stretching thinner and thinner ever since my mother passed.

She died on the first of October, just as the cold was setting in. It wasn’t sudden; she’d been sick for a month or so before finally laying to rest. I had tried to take up her old job. She worked as a maid for a relatively wealthy family, the Greengrass’. However, when I knocked upon their door, a middle-aged woman dressed in my mother’s old uniform answered. That had told me everything I needed to know. Since then, I’ve been scouring the village for potential work. I’d managed to get a few odd jobs here and there, but nothing long term, and I needed to feed my boy.

“What did you get today, Mum?” Jasper questioned. I turned to him and kissed his forehead.

“Just some bread. Is that alright?” I asked hopefully. He’d never been the type of kid to complain, but I knew that, as he grew, so did his appetite. Bread was quickly becoming dull. Sooner or later, he’d voice his distaste for it. To my surprise, Jasper smiled and squeezed his arms around my neck, giving me a tight hug. “Yep!” he replied cheerfully. My anxiety quickly faded away. I kissed his cheek and sat him down at the table.

“Did you do anything fun today?” I asked as I began slicing the loaf. Jasper hummed, thinking to himself.

“I pretended to be a cow!” he declared, looking proud of himself. Jasper had always been quite the fan of cows. His favorite activity was trotting around the house, mooing. In my opinion, it was the cutest thing ever, but I may be a bit biased.

“Did you? And how did you do that?” I asked, eyebrows raised. Jasper smirked and puffed out his chest. “I ate grass!” he announced loudly. I shook my head in bewilderment. “You ate grass?” Jasper nodded proudly. “Yup! And look,” he reached inside his pocket and pulled out a bundle of green grass, dumping it onto the table. “I saved some for you,” he finished, pushing the greenery towards me. I did my best to hide my grimace and gently placed his plate of bread in front of him. “That’s...wonderful, uhm, sweetheart, it’s not good to eat grass. You could get sick,” I said quietly, trying to deliver this news gently. A frown appeared on Jasper’s face, and he dropped his head, his eyes now staring at his lap.

“Oh, Jas, it’s alright. I know you were only playing, but humans can’t eat grass,” I said while taking my own seat at the table. He reluctantly looked up, his pouty lips on full display. “Come on, love, eat some of your bread. The sun is going down, and I don’t like washing dishes in the dark,” I spoke sternly, trying to get him to eat. He sighed but picked up his bread and shoved it in his mouth. I made sure he didn’t choke since he had a tendency to take bigger bites than he should. I gnawed on my own piece.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. It was nearly nightfall. Who would be at the door at this time? I quickly got to my feet as the person knocked again. “Who’s that, Mum?” Jasper asked, his mouth full of bread. “Finish your bite before speaking, Jas. And I don’t know, let’s find out.” I approached the door, brushed off my dress, and turned the knob. Standing outside was Ron Weasley, the bakers’ youngest son.

“Ron? Come in, come in. What’s going on?” I asked, a bit concerned he was here to tell me his parents wouldn’t be able to give me food anymore. The ginger-haired boy rushed past me and into my home and eagerly slapped a flyer onto the table. “Look,” he told me as he pointed to the parchment. I gave him a skeptical look but walked over to the table and picked it up.

The Malfoy family is seeking a servant to the young prince. If interested, arrive at the castle at dawn on the 19th of October.

SALARY: 4 galleons per hour

The person selected to be the Prince’s servant will furthermore reside in the castle.

As I took in the information on the flyer, Jasper took the parchment from my grasp. He held it out in front of him and stared at it intently. I considered berating him for taking what doesn’t belong to him, but I chose not to, and instead, I turned to Ron, who had an enormous grin on his face. “Ron, you can’t be serious…”

“It’s perfect! It’s four galleons an hour, and if you’re working dawn till dusk, that’s roughly eleven hours. Forty-four galleons a day, Y/N. You can’t pass this up. You’d be mad not to at least try,” he told me. I wasn’t quite sold, “Yeah, that sounds like a dream, but what would I…” I paused and held my hand up to Ron, signaling him to give me a moment. Then I faced Jasper. “Darling, put your plate in the sink and go wash up; I’ll be there soon to get you ready for bed, alright?” I instructed him. His pouty lips returned.

“But I wanna know what’s going on!” the boy insisted. He dropped the paper, crossed his arms over his chest, and promptly glared at me. I held back my laugh at his attempt at intimidation and put a hand on my hip. “Do as I say.” Jasper sighed but slid off his chair and trod off to the bathroom. I turned back to Ron. “If I live at the castle, how can I take care of Jasper? I can’t just leave him here alone; he’s only six, not to mention he’s ill,” I explained as I picked the parchment back up again. Ever since Jasper had turned four, he started having trouble breathing. There had been times where I was unsure if he’d survive through the night. Ron knew about this, but he wasn’t budging. “Y/N, the castle isn’t far. You could sneak out at dusk and spend the night with Jasper, no problem.”

“With all due respect, Ron, I don’t think it’ll be that easy. I’d have to get past people in the castle, the guards, and who knows who else?” I said, shaking my head. My eyes drifted to the flyer in my hand. A servant to the prince. What did that even mean? There was a serious lack of detail in the advertisement. My lip curled in distaste. The Royal Family was known to be quite the arrogant bunch. Malfoy, their surname, directly translates to ‘bad faith’. They didn’t treat their citizens well; nearly every town outside of Orton’s walls was neglected. Totbury, my town, especially.

Nevertheless, the Malfoy’s knew that, despite treating their people terribly, people would scramble for the chance to land this job. Simply based on the look of the family’s servants, they weren’t looking for people like me. If they found out where I live, they’ll surely dismiss me.

“Y/N, you’re underestimating yourself. That castle has numerous secret passageways, just find one of those, and you’re all set. And even if that doesn’t work, then you just make an excuse. Say the Prince himself sent you into the city, what are the guards going to say to that?” Ron argued. I threw him a look of confusion as I put the flyer down, my eyes lingering on the young prince. “How would you even know about secret passageways?” I asked. Ron cocked an eyebrow. “You don’t believe they exist?” he asked incredulously. I scoffed and walked over to the sink.

“Ron, they’re only rumors. I’m sure they have a couple of lesser-known corridors, but not a secret passageway. That’s absurd,” I began rinsing off the plates and silverware, “And besides, I wouldn’t get chosen. Have you forgotten who I am? They’re not going to hire a peasant from Totbury, Ronald. I mean, have you seen the sheer amount of guards that line up around the Prince? They won’t let anyone touch him, so what makes you think they’d let me be his personal servant?” I asked, not really expecting a legitimate answer. However, it seemed as though Ron had all the answers that day.

“That’s easy, just lie. Say you’re from Orton. The population is big enough that they wouldn’t know the difference. And it’s not like the King and Queen even leave the castle. I bet they couldn’t tell the difference between a Sithrawliean from a Perwenese,” Ron claimed. Perwen was the neighboring kingdom to Sithrawl.

“That may be true, but even if I lied, I don’t look the part. I’ve got maybe two dresses, and they both have holes in them. They’ll see right through me,” I pointed out yet another problem with Ron’s plan while I scrubbed the chipped plates in my sink. He remained silent for a moment but then snapped his fingers.

“You’re about the same age as Ginny, aren’t you?” he asked, eyes looking hopeful. Indeed, I was around his sister’s age. I told him so, and he smiled. “Then you could borrow one of her dresses, in fact, I think Mum just bought her a new one!” he suggested excitedly. Once I put down the now clean plates, I dried my hands and spun around to face Ron.

“I’m not taking Ginny’s new dress; that’s ridiculous,” I replied. Ron opened his mouth to retaliate, but I interrupted him. “Look, I appreciate you looking out for Jasper and me, but I can’t...I can’t just lie to the Royal Family. And I don’t want to leave my son at home all day.”

“But haven’t you already been doing that? You’ve been scouring the streets for weeks looking for a job. I just thought that maybe this would be a good—”

I cut him off, my patience lost. “Yes, well, you thought wrong! I’m not going off and living in a lavish castle while my child is all alone in this shithole. It’s unfair to him, and I’m not doing it. End of story.”

Ron’s previously bright smile had faded into a regretful frown. He nodded his head and looked at the floor as if he was afraid to look me in the eye. I began to feel guilt seep into my stomach. He was only trying to help, and here I was giving him a hard time. Nice going, Y/N.

“You’re right. I’m sorry for suggesting it. I’ll just...get going, and don’t worry, I’ll tell Mum you say hello,” Ron said solemnly as he headed for the door. I held my tongue and walked him out, waving as he strode down the road. When I closed the door behind him, I let out a heavy sigh and ran my hands through my hair. There was no need for me to have acted like such a pain, but alas, the apology Ron deserves would have to wait until tomorrow. Tonight, I need to care for my boy.

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{The next morning}

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I woke with a start, sitting straight up in my bed. My back was drenched with sweat, and my skin felt hotter than hell. I had no clue as to why I'd woken up in such a state, but I didn't have the energy to care. Slowly, as to not wake Jasper, I lifted the covers and slid out of our bed. As I got to my feet and walked into the kitchen, I noticed the sun wasn’t even up yet. I stepped closer to the window and peered out, looking for the town clock. When I spotted it, I saw that it was roughly half-past five. Dawn wasn’t until seven.

Exhausted, I rubbed my eyes lightly and turned around. There on the table was the flyer. I stepped towards it and lifted it up. “...arrive at the castle at dawn…” My head turned towards the window once again. If I got ready now, I could make it. But did I dare? I’d have to find someone to watch Jasper. Does Ron’s offer even stand now? I supposed there was only one way to find out. I rushed to the bathroom and quickly turned on the water in the bath. A slow stream trickled out of the spout.

“Come on,” I whispered. As if the universe had heard me, the water pressure grew stronger, and the tub began to fill. Anxiously, I stripped my clothing and jumped inside, despite the lack of water. We always kept a wooden bowl by the bathtub, so I reached for it and dunked it under the faucet, letting it gather enough liquid before I dumped it onto my head. The temperature was less than ideal, but I made do, and within fifteen minutes, I was out of the bath and drying off.

Quickly, I threw on my dress, slipped on my shoes, and ran out the door, but not before kissing a sleeping Jasper goodbye. He’ll be okay, I assured myself. The Weasleys were luckily only a few blocks down, so I hustled down the street and up to their door. Yet, once I found myself on their cozy porch, I was unable to knock. My fist hovered above the wooden door, decorated with fresh winter flowers. It’s now or never, a voice in my head whispered. Somehow, I found my courage and rapped my knuckle against the firm wood.

After only a few moments, Mr. Weasley opened the door. “Y/N? What brings you here so early? Has something happened?” he asked initially. Then he saw my wet hair and my shivering frame. “Good heavens! Come inside, you’ll freeze,” he exclaimed, motioning for me to come towards him. I scampered in, and Mr. Weasley shut the door. I could tell he was bursting with questions, but I filled him in before he could speak.

“Thank you, Mr. Weasley. I’m here because yesterday Ronald stopped by and told me the Royal Family was looking for a servant. And well, at first, I wasn’t going to apply for it, but now...now I wish to,” I spoke softly. The man stood tall as he processed this information.

“Well, that sounds grand. But if I may, why are you here?” he questioned. Before I could tell him, Ron entered the foyer from around the corner. “Y/N? You’re here, have you changed your mind?” he asked, his voice sounding hopeful. With a bit of lingering hesitation, I nodded my head. “I have.”

Ron smiled brightly. “Brilliant, wait here,” he instructed before he headed into a different room, leaving his father and me by the door. Soon enough, however, he emerged with a green and white dress. It was paired with a leather brown underbust corset. Although simple, it was perfect. “That’s beautiful, wow. Are you sure about this?” I checked with Ron. He nodded and motioned behind him.

“Ginny’s awake; she’ll help you into it,” he told me. Right on cue, a sweet young girl with long red hair strolled into the foyer. She waved at me softly, and I waved back.

“Splendid, off you go then. Ginny, find her a towel to dry her hair, won’t you?” Mr. Weasley asked his daughter. She nodded, took me by the hand, and dragged me into what I assumed was her room. The Weasley’s home looked bigger than the rest in Totbury, but I never suspected that one of their children would have their own bedroom. I was led to the center of Ginny’s room. She shut the door and quickly began helping me out of my day dress.

“Are you nervous?” she asked immediately. Her inquiry caught me off guard and reminded me of the butterflies in my tummy. I scrambled for an answer as she wrapped my hair in a dark brown towel.

“Of course, I am. I’m leaving my son alone all day,” I told her finally. Ginny smiled softly as she laid my dress on her bed, leaving me in my undergarments. She knew I had dodged her question but didn’t mention it.

“We can have him stay with us today if you want. It’s really no problem,” Ginny offered. This wasn’t the first time the Weasley’s had said they could watch Jasper. While it was very kind of them, I never took them up on it; I couldn’t. My mother never gave me over to another family when she went to work. She would always tell me, “Don’t go outside. I’ll return before nightfall.” And that was that. I stayed put and waited for her to come home. Sure, it was a lonely childhood, but she did what she had to do to provide for me. Now, I wanted to do that for my own child, but it was becoming clearer to me that I wouldn’t be able to do things like my mother. If I get the job, I’ll be in the castle, I won’t be able to come running if something happens. Deep down, I knew the safest option for my boy was to let him stay with the Weasleys.

“Are you sure?” I asked. Ginny smiled and nodded her head. “Of course. He’ll be safe and sound while you do what you need to do.” I gnawed on my lip as she slipped the dress over my head and onto my body.

“I really appreciate this, you know? Things have just been… difficult lately, and I’m trying to do right by Jasper, but I’m still figuring out how, if that makes sense,” I said to her, not really knowing why I was suddenly confiding in her. Ginny was only a year younger than me, twenty-one. We’d never talked much growing up. Better late than never, I suppose.

“You’re doing great, Y/N. Don’t be so hard on yourself, seriously,” Ginny said gently while she began tying up my corset. I took a moment to admire myself in the ornate mirror in front of me. I was now adorned in an ankle-length, deep green dress. It was significantly nicer than any piece of clothing I’d ever owned.

“Where did you get this, Ginny? It’s so beautiful,” I asked. Ginny shrugged as she pulled and adjusted the fabric, seemingly her final touches.

“I’m not sure. Mum never said where she got it. But it’s gorgeous on you.” I felt my face flush as I stared back at myself in the mirror. I looked unfamiliar. Hesitantly, I gave Ginny a little twirl, feeling a grin creep onto my lips as the skirt flared around me in a perfect circle. I felt young. I felt new.

“Thank you for lending it to me. Hopefully, everything goes well, and I’ll make enough money to buy you many more dresses such as this one,” I said, smiling at Ginny. Then I caught sight of a nearby window. The sun wasn’t in the sky quite yet, but the darkness of the night was beginning to lift. “Speaking of which, I’d better get going. I’ll be back before nightfall to get Jasper; he should still be sleeping at home,” I rambled while heading for the door, Ginny close behind.

“Don’t worry, I’ll go fetch him. You’re right though, you’d better get a move on; sun’ll be up in an hour.” I nodded and tore the towel from my head, letting my semi-dry and now wavy hair fall to my shoulders and back. The other Weasleys lifted their heads as I rushed to the door. I quickly waved goodbye and said my thanks as I ran outside, the chorus of their farewells barely reaching my ears. I was already several paces down the street.

Luckily for me, I knew my way to the castle. Once I reached my teenage years, I’d often sneak through the woods and journey to the capital. And when I got near enough, I’d take a right and go the long way ‘round. That way, I could get up close and personal to the walls of Orton. I couldn’t see anything, of course, but I loved to sit my back against the cool stone bricks and simply listen to the hustle and bustle. As a young girl, I often daydreamed of what life might be like within those walls. Now, I may get the chance to find out.

The trip was just how I’d remembered it, although a bit shorter. First, I’d walk straight between the long stretches of farmland. Sometimes I’d even get to see livestock. But after that, the land would transition into dense forest, filled with various wildflowers as well as a little creek. Once through there, one found themselves at the start of a cobblestone road leading straight to the gates of Orton. That’s where I was now. The sun was beginning to pierce the sky, and I didn’t feel ready. Then I thought of Jasper, and my foot moved forwards, the other following after it. Soon enough, I was face to face with two tall men dressed in silver armor. Behind them, cast iron doors concealing the city beyond them.

“State your name and business,” the man on the left said. His eyes wouldn’t even meet mine. Bile tempted to spill into my mouth, but I swallowed it down and did as he asked.

“Y/N of Orton. I come to find work, specifically for the position at the castle,” I said in a tone as confident as I could muster. The guard raised his eyebrows.

“I’ve never seen you or heard of you. You certain you’re from here?” he asked, jutting his finger towards the doors. I nodded firmly. Fake it till you make it.

“Yes, sir. I haven’t been home in many months as I’ve been looking after my cousin in Totbury. He’s been very ill, and I’ve been afraid to leave his side. Yet, I fear I am without much money. Hence why I’m here now.” I looked at the men, trying to gauge whether or not they detected my lies. I’d only just cooked up that tall tale fifteen minutes ago, and I didn’t have anything past that. My fingers squeezed each other behind my back as I waited for them to reply. One looked to the other, who shrugged, then they turned back to me.

“Very well, welcome back,” he said. My sigh of relief was covered up by the loud creaking of the doors as the men pushed them open, revealing the awaking city. I quickly walked through them before the guards could change their minds. Mother of God. I couldn’t believe I was actually here. But I knew I didn’t have time to explore, I had to get to the castle. Hardly anyone was outside their homes yet, so I took off running, my worn shoe soles slapping on the cobblestone. I didn’t know my way, of course. I was simply going by the spiral at the top of a tower. I could see it from the city streets, so I rushed through the city’s twist and turns until arriving at a long stone bridge. It led all the way to a tall archway, beyond it, the entrance to the castle.

I did my best not to break out into a sprint and instead speed-walked across it, wondering why there was nobody else in sight. I didn’t have time to ponder it further as I had already made it to the entrance. I told the guards here the same thing I’d said to the ones at the gates. They let me in seconds after I said I was there for the job opening.

The beauty of the castle stopped me in my tracks. Candles flickered above me in the high-hanging chandeliers, their light shining on the polished wooden floors. Gold framed portraits decorated the warm stone walls. Everything was so clean, so elegant. My eyes had no idea where to look. Get a hold of yourself. You’re not here to look around. I scanned the foyer but realized I had no idea where to go. But then a soft voice startled me.

“It’s up the stairs and to the left, dear. Better hurry. The Prince is almost done with his breakfast.” I turned around to see a short old woman with stark blonde hair. At first glance, she reminded me of my mother. She smiled when she saw my face. “Go on, wouldn’t want to be late now,” she ushered. I hastily nodded my head as I hurried up the steps, taking a left just as she had told me. I was now facing a long hallway, at the end of which were open doors leading into a large room. As I drew nearer, I could see a long line of people, all with their hands behind their back and chests puffed out. Intimidation tickled my skin. They all looked so proper.

Trying to push away my thoughts, I stepped into the room, which I realized was the throne room, and claimed my place beside a young woman. She looked to be around my age, as did many of the women. I quickly noticed that there were only women here. That’s odd. Surely at least some men would wish to be the Prince’s servant. Although, I suppose it’s not the same as being his right-hand man or advisor. My thoughts were interrupted by a loud toot of a trumpet. I turned to my right to see a well-dressed man with a silver instrument pressed to his lips. He played a little tune before lowering the trumpet.

“His Majesty, the King, and her Majesty, the Queen.” The man stepped aside, and two figures entered the room. The man was tall, had blonde hair, and a pale, pointed face. His eyes seemed to pierce my soul when he made eye contact. He carried a black and silver cane with him as he walked. The woman at his side looked just as unnerving as her husband. She, too, was tall, although not as tall as the King. Her hair was long and blonde, just as pale as her skin. The slimness of her waist was rather alarming, and her eyes were ice cold.

The couple took their seats on their respective thrones and turned towards the door. The previous man spoke again. “His Royal Highness, Prince Draco.” The man of the hour, Draco Malfoy, strutted into the room. A perfect combination of his parents, his skin was cool white, nearly the same as his platinum hair. His high cheekbones and pointed chin resembled his father’s, but, unlike the King, Draco’s hair was cut short, a few stray strands hovered over his forehead. When he took a seat next to his mother, I could see her eyes soften as she looked at him.

The trumpeter exited, leaving the Royal Family alone with the line of girls in front of them, save for a few guards. The King cleared his throat and rose to his feet, clutching his snake-headed cane as he did.

“In a few moments, my son will choose his new servant. I trust you will all be respectful and do as you’re told. If the prince dismisses you, then you leave. If the prince asks you a question, you answer it truthfully. And finally, if the prince chooses you, you will be led to your living quarters and will immediately begin your training. The prince will be taking the throne in exactly two hundred and thirty days; he is a busy young man, and we cannot waste any more time. Do I make myself clear?” he asked. Nobody said a word. “Good. Draco,” he called, motioning to us.

The prince stood up from his throne and made his way down the marble steps. He stopped a few feet in front of a girl a couple of people down from me. He stared at her for a few seconds before waving his hand and saying, “Dismissed.” The girl didn’t move, she looked confused and a bit shocked. Draco scoffed. “Weren’t you listening to my father? If I dismiss you, you leave. The door is to your right; run along now,” he ordered. I watched in disbelief as the girl bowed her head and rushed from the room, tears in her eyes. “Daft cow,” Draco muttered. Anger began to stir in my chest. What an absolute prick. Christ, I knew the Malfoys were a cold bunch, but I never thought the crown prince would be this much of an arsehole.

He continued going down the line, dismissing girls left and right. It didn’t seem like he had a particular order. No, he was merely kicking out the girls who didn’t please his eye. I knew this because he’d tell them what he didn’t find appealing as they left.

“Big nose.”

“Thin lips.”

“Too tall.”

“Repulsive complexion.”

He dismissed and dismissed until only three girls remained, including me. He stopped in front of a black-haired woman. She wore a cream-colored gown. It was much fancier than mine and contrasted beautifully with her dark skin.

“What’s your name?” Draco asked. The woman replied that her name was Alyssa. “Hi, Alyssa. Tell me, what makes you want this job?” It was silent for a few moments before the woman answered.

“My mother suggested it, Your Highness.” Draco clasped his hands behind his back and studied Alyssa’s face and body. His calm demeanor was frightening, to say the least.

“So your mother wants you to have this position, but tell me, Alyssa, do you want this position? Or are we just wasting our time here trying to fulfill the wishes of a woman who isn’t even here?” he seethed. Alyssa stuttered but shook her head and insisted she, too, wanted the job. I could tell from his face that Draco didn’t buy what she was selling, but he didn’t dismiss her. Instead, he shuffled his feet until he stood in front of me. My heart started pounding in my chest, but I kept my head up, my mother’s words echoing in my head. “Don’t be afraid to make eye contact.”

Draco said nothing for nearly an entire minute. He only stood still, eyes never leaving mine. It felt like a staring contest, but without the playful energy. I could see now that his eyes were grey. They looked empty like they were searching for something. I narrowed my own, trying to figure out why they looked this way. It seemed as though this upset Draco.

“What’re you looking at?” he spat. I quickly replied. I could practically feel his anger, and I did not want to add to it by being slow to respond.

“Nothing, Your Highness.”

“Liar. Try again, sweetheart.” Perceptive. Or perhaps just angry. Whichever it was, he now left me with a decision—another lie or the simple truth. I weighed the options in my head; neither seemed favorable.

“Your eyes,” I replied. Draco raised an eyebrow. I took this to mean he wanted me to elaborate. “They’re grey.” Upon hearing this, he rolled them.

“Brilliant deduction,” he said, sarcasm dripping from his tongue. “But why were you staring at them so...intently?” he questioned me further. However, he seemed afraid almost. Like he didn’t want to hear my answer. Regardless, I shrugged.

“Well, they appear sad and honestly, vacant.” I could feel the entire room tense as I spoke. Behind Draco, I saw The King jump to his feet, his wife’s hand on his arm in a feeble attempt at holding him back.

“Guards…” he started, but then Draco lifted a hand, halting his father as well as the guards who’d begun to take a few steps forward.

“That won’t be necessary. Send for Olive. She can show her to her new room,” Draco spoke gently. His voice was even and firm, and yet, nobody moved to fulfill his request.

“Surely you’re not picking her, son?” The King asked, desperation evident in his voice. It was easy to see that he disapproved of this decision. Draco, whose eyes still hadn’t moved from mine, adjusted his hands. They now rested on his thighs, fingers intertwined.

“You’re from Orton, yes?” I nodded, not trusting my voice. “You’re healthy, no deathly illnesses?” Again, I nodded. “And you want this job?” This time I decided to speak.

“Yes, Your Highness, very much so.” I curled my toes, hoping my conviction was enough. The smile that stretched across Draco’s face hinted that it was. However, his next words confirmed it.

“Perfect. Yes, Father, I have picked her. Now can somebody please fetch Olive? I don’t quite know why nobody did so even though I specifically remember telling you less than two minutes ago,” he said fiercely. Within seconds, a guard rushed out the door to do as The Prince had ordered. The two girls beside me took this as their cue to exit as well. Alyssa looked gutted, and the other girl seemed relieved. I felt a bit sad to see them go, but my thoughts of them were overridden by the increasingly uncomfortable feeling growing in my stomach.

The distress in the air felt thick, almost suffocating. It seemed that the vacant man standing in front of me was quite the threatening presence. While this let me know I should tread lightly when in his company, it didn’t instill fear. Yes, I had been intimidated and afraid when I initially walked into the Malfoy’s throne room, but once I’d gotten a good look at the youngest of the bunch, those feelings dissipated.

His eyes told me all I needed to know. Draco was nothing but talk. He was closer to a boy than he was a man, and more importantly, he had no guts to do anything substantial. Sure, words could hurt, but when it came down to it, they were nothing more than words.

As I was led to my room by Olive, the kind older woman I’d met at the doorway, I wondered what I had gotten myself into.

Taglist (I used my All Draco Works taglist for this, if you DO NOT want to be on this taglist for Betwixt, please let me know!): @beiahadid @pastelpuffbar @cutie1365 @dracoxmgg @lumlfy @sambucky8 @emilianamason @raplinethereal @DixieTheMorab24 @xoxohollands @prongsandprancer @ch0kemedracomalfoy @avlauriaa @purpleskymalfoy @mariah-can-dream @drxcomvlfx @sydnee-kom-spacekru @dracosgoodgirl @voilawind @gloryekaterina @anchoeritic @ragxsxragxs @exoticlizard @dlmmdl @siriusblklftv @Writtenbyadramaqueen @amourtentiaa @keidensu

#draco lucius malfoy #Draco Malfoy #draco fanfiction #draco malfoy smut #draco malfoy x yn #Draco #draco x y/n #draco x reader #draco x you #draco royalty #royalty au #Ron Weasley #hogwarts royalty #hogwarts royalty au #harry potter fanfiction #Harry Potter #draco malfoy fanfiction #royal fanfiction

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vivithefolle · 4 years ago

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I'm a bit confused. You said in one post that you thoroughly dislike Hermione and that you had no respect for her at all. Yet ... you like Romione? idk, it seems contradictory tbh. I like when Romione shippers acknowledge her flaws and messed up moments but when someone that dislike and even hate her character that much ships Romione and I see them posting about them and calling them "cute" just seems weird

I’ll share with you my whole thought process so you can understand where I’m coming from:

Itty-bitty Vivi who read Harry Potter for the first time (at 13/14, so not so itty-bitty I guess, oops): Woaaah Hermione and Ron yaay!!! They're awesome I love them! They're my OTP always and forever!! Best thing to happen in Harry Potter!! JKR is a genius!

Slightly less itty-bitty Vivi discovering the Harry Potter fandom online (thankfully years after the ship wars, else I probably wouldn't have survived): Why is there so much hate towards Ron? And why are people so opposed to Romione?? It was meant to be since the first book! Or, okay, the second book is when I realized it was gonna happen, but still! Oh well, here is a fic where Hermione berates Ron for everything and he is the only one actually working for their relationship. Cool, more Romione!

Even less itty-bitty Vivi starting her own Tumblr and going around, adding her grain of salt to debates and talking about stuff: Yeah! Ron is great! He's done bad things of course but Hermione has done her fair share of bad things too! Actually, now that I'm rereading the books, I'm reminded of this person I used to call a friend, who was quite smart and cultured but would often be very harsh to me because they claimed it was “for your own good" and “because I'm more mature than you"… I still wanted to be around them, because they were just so smart and passionate, but we often rowed and eventually they really just went too far and tried to make ME out to be the bad guy and most people believed them because they had a reputation as someone cool and logical while I was known for being emotional… wait, what the fuck, that's… that's exactly what happens in the fandom with Ron and Hermione! What the fuck, was I Ron? Admired their intelligence, praised and supported them, fell in love even but was met with scorn and open disdain?!… no, no, come on. Hermione wasn't that bad.

Vivi rereading Half-Blood Prince (and no, this wasn't about the canaries, but about what Hermione was doing after): Oh my god she was that bad.

Vivi as she ponders alternately: Wait, what about JK Rowling? What does she think about all that? What was her intention, what did she want to accomplish with the characters? I know books belong to their readers but if I want as objective an analysis as possible I must try to understand her thought process while she wrote.

Vivi learning about a staple of British literature called “literary alchemy”: The quarreling couple!! Sulfur and Mercury, the Red King and the White Queen, who must marry for the story to end happily!! And their union is represented by… a rose!! Oh my god, that is brilliant, that is so cool! Romione was ALWAYS going to happen, I knew it! Ha!

Vivi discovering the “[Ron] needed to make himself worthy of Hermione” quote: Wha… but… what? Worthy? As if Hermione was some sort of precious trophy or whatever? What the hell? Wait, Ron had to make himself worthy of her but Hermione didn't have to make herself worthy of him? Is it because Ron is the boy or some shit like that??

Vivi going through JK Rowling's interviews and finding sexism and double-standards galore: Yep, it's because he's the boy. And that bit about Hermione being based off herself when she was younger… ouch. And to top it off the scriptwriter pretty much worshipped Hermione…

Vivi rereading the books again: Is it just me, or does Ron hardly ever get any praise or acknowledgement from the adult characters? Meanwhile Harry and Hermione get stuff like “as good as Charlie Weasley" or “brightest witch of her age"! And, damn, I used to side with Hermione because I love cats, but she was completely awful in POA! She apologized but then the plot made her out to be right even then?? And I always thought her Yule Ball entrance was kinda over-the-top, but damn if that's not compensating for something! Also what the hell, I get that Harry is suffering and all but will someone PLEASE pay attention to the fact that Ron is being bullied BY A FOURTH OF THE STUDENT BODY AND NOBODY SEEMS EVEN REMOTELY CONCERNED????? Also what the hell is wrong with the sixth book, I never liked it much but it's like it's trying to make every character look bad, wtf?? And, and, holy shit I never noticed but Ron was asking legit questions during the Horcrux Hunt debate but Harry kept deflecting or mocking him but it's still Ron who had to apologize in the end??? And I've read a whole post about how Hermione punching Ron is the appropriate reaction for a very small child and not a supposedly “mature" character, and that Harry had to SHIELD RON FROM HER, oh my god?? It's… oh my god, what the fuck is wrong with JK Rowling?

Vivi, in denial: Well, Harry Potter is decidedly not a romance. It's about love, but romantic love is quite far down the priority list when it comes to it. JKR has herself confessed that she wasn't too good at writing romance, and I don't blame her because writing romance is hard. But I did enjoy Romione! When I was little I saw it coming from a mile away, granted I was already savvy in literature but that must have been because she was doing something right! And then the sixth book happened… the sixth book which… which was released after the Harry Potter movies were being filmed, wasn't it?

Vivi looking up the timelines: Oh my god. Oh my god it's even worse, the movies were being discussed before Goblet of Fire came out. Come to think of it, I always found that the Trio felt… different, after Prisoner of Azkaban. Harry and Ron especially felt like they had gotten dumber? And Hermione was suddenly explaining everything when exposition used to be split between her and Ron…

Vivi, in mourning: So that's what happened. Ron ended up being shortchanged to make Hermione look better, because Rowling was fonder of Hermione than she was of Ron, and the scriptwriter too come to think of it. Curse you, Steve Kloves!!!

Vivi, who is nothing if not what Pokémon fans call a nostalgiafag: But… but… yeah, it sucks that Ron was shortchanged, and actually yeah it's a freaking travesty and I WILL freaking spread the world about this, mark my words, but, but I still… I can't help it, when Hermione “looked up at Ron and her frostiness seemed to melt" I melt too. When Ron compliments Hermione or tries to take care of her as much as he can I… it still does something to me, I still find myself rooting for them even if I know there's the awful sixth book and the stupid post-Locket beatdown. Their kiss, for God's sake, I've just realized that Ron may have swept Hermione off her feet physically, but it's Hermione who jumped him, you could say Hermione metaphorically swept Ron off his feet!! God damn it, that's good, that's so good!

Vivi, at war with herself: No, I can't let myself be blinded by nostalgia!! The facts are that Hermione shows borderline abusive - even actually abusive - behaviour, this can't be denied! I don't want to root for an abusive relationship! I don't want to root for a relationship that relies on my favourite character being dumbed down to work!!!

Vivi, about to uncover the secrets of the universe: … wait a second. I don't have to.

Vivi, having an epiphany: Reading Solstice Muse's Romione fanfics gives me such happiness because she just gets the characters! She doesn't portray Hermione as perfect and never fucking up, and she always treats what happens to Ron with respect… Well, especially since she can't play them off as a joke since she often makes Ron the POV character. But, yeah! I can still like Romione… if it's well-written. Which, well, isn't the case in the original books… at least, isn't the case anymore after Rowling's bias got the best of her. Even though they do have their great moments.

Vivi, finding purpose in her life: I am going to spread awareness. I am going to tell the world. Fuck, just rereading the books, I've noticed how blatant the favouritism is and how unbalanced it can be. No wonder the fandom seems to collectively scoff at Ron - the books themselves do whenever it's convenient for them! The fandom plays favourites, because the author herself played favourites, and the worst part is that she didn't even realize it! Imagine you spend your life getting into traumatic situations out of love for your friends who always receive compassion and validation for their feelings about said traumas, but YOUR trauma is hardly touched upon and in the rare case it is, it's only to be mocked or used against you… Fuck! You're a piece of work, JKR! And the fandom just swallows it whole like a bunch of lobotomized snakes! Screw it! Screw it, I'm going to say it like it is, and I'm going to say it LOUDLY! People are going to hear about what Ron goes through and we'll see if Harry and Hermione look like the only ones worthy of therapy then!!

Present day Vivi, as she scrolls through the (heavily filtered) Romione tag on AO3: Ugh, another Drarry… and another… and another… oh, a Hinny-centric fic for a change, cool but I'm looking for more Romione than that, sorry. Gah, why is it that Romione appears as a secondary ship everywhere but they can't get their own stories? I've just seen a Snupin come up for God's sake! Oh, finally, a full Romione!! *clicks* … … … awww that was so sweet. Kudos! Okay back to the search… oh, another one!! *clicks* … … … it's Ron-bashing. It's Ron-bashing and it's not tagged Ron-bashing and that's why it showed up in my search AND I'M GOING TO FREAKING RIOT-

#vivi answers #ask #romione #ron weasley #hermione granger #ron weasley defense squad #ron weasley defence squad #ron x hermione #harry potter series #anti jk rowling

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antihero-writings · 4 years ago

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The Boy with the Unspeakable Name (Ch1)

Fandom: Harry Potter (and the Chamber or Secrets)

Fic Summary: Tom Riddle may have won his battle with Harry in the Chamber of Secrets, but there were a few unforeseen consequences; loss of Tom’s memory being the most obnoxious of them. Is it possible to stop Tom’s past from becoming his future? Or is the young Tom Riddle doomed to repeat his mistakes?

Notes: I’ve actually had this idea ever since the first or second time I read Chamber of Secrets. Though Tom has never been my favorite character, I found young Tom interesting, and I always thought things would have gone differently if he had come back when he was Harry’s age. I was always curious if he could have been redeemed if things had gone this way. Now, I know JK Rowling purposely wanted to create an irredeemable villain, so she wouldn’t have redeemed him even then, but I wanted to write a fic playing with that idea myself.

Despite having had this idea for a long time, I didn’t write it because I was afraid I’d bite off more than I could chew, and wouldn’t finish. But this last time I read Chamber of Secrets, I decided I’d just go for it. I’m still afraid I won’t finish, as this is the longest premise of any of my fics posted, (and I haven’t finished any of my other, shorter, long fics…) but I didn’t want that to stop me from at least trying out the idea. Even if I don’t finish it, at least I’ll have something to show for it!

All that being said, if you like this fic and do want me to continue please consider commenting, and/or reblogging. Sometimes one comment can mean the difference between me continuing, and me leaving the fic behind. It really helps to know people are interested.

Above art from the internet.

Chapter 1:

He didn’t know how fitting it was.

Tom Riddle didn’t know just how fitting it was that the first two things he sensed after waking up were the sound of crying, and the stench of blood.

He didn’t remember how much of his past—or perhaps one could call it his future—was comprised of tears, blood, muffled screaming, and the words avada kadavra! hissed in a cold, high voice that was surely not his own.

Right now, he didn’t remember much of anything at all.

Sixteen years or sixty, he remembered none of pain, the loss, or the victory.

All he knew in this moment was that world was damp and cold, it smelled like death, and someone was weeping.

That was the world to him; an ink spill on living canvas. A hole made in screaming pages.

The sound of weeping was the first thing he knew in this new life—(or this old life, made new)—it echoed and filled the place—whatever the place was—like the slow drip of water in an empty cave; tiny on its own, mistakable in a crowd, but sharp, vast, and overpowering when the world was hollow.

And the world did feel hollow.

He did not wake to a warm, dry hospital bed, a fire, and a heap of get-well cards. His family did not surround him, showering him with love and gratitude, asking what he did and did not remember, and what had happened to their sweet boy. No one held up pictures, pointing to the scenes and people within them fervently demanding remember?!, praying amnesia would leave him sooner rather than later.

Instead he woke to a place in which every sensation burned: cold searched for weaknesses in his damp cloak and slithered across his skin; the smell of blood bored into his nostrils, enough he could almost taste it; and the longer he heard the wailing it burned in his ears too.

Burned because it hurt his heart not just his ears? Because it was sad? Because it mattered, and he needed to know what was wrong?

Surely not.

Burned because it was annoying, and he wanted to shut it up. Burned because it wasn’t a nice sound to wake up to, and whoever they were ought to have more courtesy for orphan boys who just wanted to wake up in peace.

Everything burned because something about feeling, sensing anything at all, was…oddly unfamiliar. Not strange as in a new way; it was like something he once knew well that had been forgotten, left behind for a while, like nostalgia.

And if simply living was this foreign…how long had it been since he was last alive? How long had he been a ghost? And what brought him back to his body?

He opened his eyes.

Sight didn’t change the impression he had received from his other senses; mostly it just added ‘dark’ to the list of not-very-nice things the world was made of. And due to this fact, sight didn’t burn nearly as much as his other senses. Still, the world was crisper, more colorful, somehow, despite its drab nature…

He was in a chamber, a dungeon of sorts—probably underground. Stones and statues, turned brownish-green in the humid atmosphere, lined the walls. Snakes poked their heads out at him from the walls, their eyes glittering as if they’d come alive at any moment. And before him was a particularly large statue of a man.

But, as he sat up, his clothing—long, black robes, with a green patch on the chest—clinging to him uncomfortably, there were a few things sight showed him worth noting:

The first, most obvious, was the gigantic snake lying beneath the statue some ways down the chamber, its scaly green tail glistening in the low light. It was clearly dead; lying still, its belly up. There was blood where its lifeless eyes had been scratched blind, and a hole in the roof of in its gaping mouth, one of its front fangs missing. This was most likely the source of the foul smell. How long had it been dead? Couldn’t have been long, considering the other things around the room…

The second, what may have once been a book. This one was very close to himself. Its pages were ripped out of their bindings, in shreds, surrounding him like fresh snowfall. The leather cover had many holes and gashes in it, apparently made by the missing fang, which also lay beside the book, blackened ink on its tip—(but can words bleed?)—the book mutilated beyond repair. This was one of the strangest sights. It was almost as if someone—probably the person crying—blamed it for their problems and took their anger out on it, before that anger became the sorrow that resonated through the chamber now.

The third was a gleaming orange and red bird, long tail feathers unfurled on the floor, like a flame, its head held high, sitting quietly beside the mourner. It didn’t look like it didn’t belonged in such a grim place—like a rich person walking in a slum.

There was another glittering thing beside him: a silver sword with jewels encrusted in the hilt. This was likely the cause of the snake’s death, especially considering it had blood coating it.

A little way from it was a pile of raggedy brown fabric. …He couldn’t quite tell what it was supposed to be.

The sixth: the source of the crying, a boy. He had unruly black hair, and his black robes—(the same robes, he noted, that he himself was wearing, or very similar)—were christened with the blood and slime of beasts—(and maybe men, he couldn’t know)—and ink. He was possessed by the demon that was tragedy; his entire form shaking, heaving, whether from sadness or rage, or both, only time, and a healthy dose of good questioning would tell.

The last thing of note, and what was most likely the source of the tears: a corpse. A girl specifically, with red hair—almost as fiery as the bird’s feathers—ashen skin, and, once again, the black robes—(must be a uniform of some sort). Perhaps they were at a school? Quite a dreary school it was, if so. She was small, apparently young.

The scene was both a lot, and not much, to go on.

Three living things—one without memory, another without peace—two dead, and four inanimate, one of the inanimate things more mauled than any of the living or dead.

His mind started to provide theories about the scene,

Theory one:

The snake had killed the girl, the boy had taken up the sword and killed it in outrage.

Made sense, but that still left the diary, the bird, and himself. As well as the pile of fabric…

He didn’t see the bird having a big role in this; his best guess was that it belonged to the boy, as it seemed loyal to him, sharing his grief, and that its role was the scratch marks on the snake’s eyes, helping the boy defeat it.

Theory two: The girl had written something in her diary the boy didn’t like, perhaps something about he himself. He had torn the diary apart, and in a jealous rage sent his pet snake after her, but regretted it after the snake went too far and killed her, and decided to kill it after all.

Theory three: Reverse of roles; the diary was the boy’s, and she had found it, and he was either mad she found it and tore it, or she had after finding something she didn’t like in it, potentially about him, and the offended party let loose the snake.

Theory four: The snake belonged to neither of them, it was by accident they happened to wake it, or stumble into its home while fighting about this diary.

But why did they find an underground chamber the best place for an argument? Did they live here? Was this a normal place for them to spend time? Like some sort of secret hideaway? Were they in hiding from something?

Four(a): Or else were they on some quest to find it—was the snake guarding treasure? Did the diary hold the map to it, and they tore it simply to keep anyone else from finding it, or else falling into the same trap?

Theory five: The diary was his own; not the boy's or the girl's. He had some relationship to one or both of them that went awry.

Five(a): The snake was his own, and he had set it loose on the girl for some reason, perhaps he was the jealous and angry party here.

Theory six: The snake didn’t kill the girl.

Six(a): She was already dead or dying before the snake even arrived. Maybe the snake's venom, or something else about this chamber, was meant to cure her and failed.

Six(b): The boy killed her. Perhaps in his aforementioned jealous rage he had took the sword to her himself, and now he regretted it.

Six(c): He himself killed her.

He sat up, blinking at the dreary universe. The boy didn’t hear him, just kept on crying. It was a very tiresome noise to hear so constantly.

He reached over and, quietly as possible, drew the diary closer. What made its disfigurement all the stranger was that every page he could see appeared blank. People didn’t usually have qualms with blank diaries—it was the words that people were so touchy about.

When he lifted up the cover, he could see beneath the gashes a name: Tom Marvolo Riddle.

The sight of the name sent a curious sensation through his stomach; he didn’t remember who it belonged to, but the name set a fire boiling in his gut, a bubbling, swirling, writhing fire within him. A fire that threatened to destroy everything around it too.

He looked up at the mourner. Was that his name? Or was the girl, in fact, a very petite, long-haired boy? Did the diary belong to no one present, and it was the secrets within, not the owner, that mattered? But there were no words at all, let alone any secrets…

Or…was it perhaps his own? His own name that he didn’t even remember.

Sitting here theorizing wasn’t going to get him any closer to the truth.

It didn’t seem like a good idea to disturb the boy in his grief, but he didn’t have much choice—losing your memory is an ordeal of its own, you know.

He got to his feet—this sensation too didn’t feel completely mundane to him. Everything felt nostalgic—like in some fond childhood he walked, and smelled, and saw, and heard, but as he grew up, sense left him, and he forgot what it meant to be alive. His damp clothes clung to his body, making him shiver.

His footstep broke the atmosphere; the first new sound in the stagnant place, the pieces of peace cutting through the tears. The boy gasped—the kind of raw gasp, full of dread and despair, one takes when they realize the dragon is awake.

But the dragon in this particular chamber was slain…

His slow steps filled the chamber, an ominous repetition, the ticking of a clock.

When he got close, the boy’s hand wrapped around the hilt of the sword, the metal twinkling in the dim light, scraping and clattering on the stone as it moved.

“I’d stay back if I were you,” his voice was soft but solid, dangerous, wet with tears, shaking with rage, hoarse from screaming.

He stopped. He didn’t know what that meant, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to find out.

Hmm…What to ask? ‘Why’s that?’ ‘What happened here?’ ‘Who are you, who was she, and, while you’re at it, who am I?’

The scene was still fresh; if he touched the embers it might reignite.

“And…If you were me, what would you do?” he decided to ask. Speech, words forming on his tongue, felt odd too… but it was the sound of his voice that caught him most off guard…why? Had he been expecting to hear something different?

It was an odd question; he could tell the boy wasn’t expecting it. He paused. Then he scoffed,

“I’ll never be like you.” Then his voice grew quiet and dangerous, “But if I were in your place…I would run. As far away as I could, and as fast as I could, before I found out what the famous Harry Potter is capable of when you take something important from him.”

An even odder response.

The boy turned. One of his most defining features was the circular-rimmed, cracked glasses he wore. That, and the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead, which was red and irritated. Seeing this scar, for some reason, made ire rise in Tom’s throat too. His glasses shielded eyes of a bright green which also heralded from a distant memory.

Bright, but dark. A green that pierced the veil of shadows, yet reflected the rest of the world. He wondered if he had ever seen such hatred in someone’s eyes before, in that past he didn’t remember. They burned as bright as the bird by his side, bright as the girl’s hair. They were bright enough to set the chamber ablaze, dark enough to enact the threats in all the room’s corners. Yet his name didn’t immediately come to mind.

Harry Potter. That was what he said his name was. Once said aloud, the name was more familiar than sensation itself; a burning scar upon his mind, never quite healed. The name was rage, and humiliation itself to him…though he couldn’t place the source of these emotions; no memories came to mind.

They were enemies.

Only two names he knew so far, and both sent the same sort of mad fury through him. Curious.

He couldn’t be more than twelve years old. Twelve years old was quite the young age to be defeating monsters, watching girls die, and to hold such hatred in one’s eyes. Very young to be so hated by he himself.

He was just a kid. Did this Harry Potter really deserve all this?

Why did they hate each other so much? Was it normal for him to hate twelve-year-old boys?

Come to think of it, how old was he himself? He sounded young, not much older than him. But he didn’t feel young.

Why did he hate him so much?

It was starting to look like Theory six(c) might be the most likely.

He didn’t take his advice. He didn’t know much about himself, but he didn’t think he was one to take people’s advice, especially not that of his enemies. In ignorant defiance he took a step forward.

“Stay back!” Harry Potter barked, as vicious as a loyal guard dog.

That same hatred he felt buzzed behind his words.

Another step.

He held up the sword.

“I’m warning you.” Tom knew the threat in his voice was very real.

Yet he came closer. Close enough to see the face of the girl.

He didn’t recognize her. Predictable, but aggravating. He had hoped that perhaps seeing her would bring him to his senses. Alas, she was just a dead girl.

He leaned in closer.

“DON’T YOU DARE TOUCH HER!!” the boy’s words, along with the sword, were at his throat without a second to spare.

He simply flicked his gaze to him; no sign of shock or emotion at his outburst on his features.

The world must burn for this boy too. Burn, not because of sensation itself was strange, but because what he felt was currently was too much to bear.

Hatred, horror, heartbreak…hell. It all blazed and overflowed in his eyes.

He backed up one step, then another, and kept backing away until the sword was no longer close to his skin. Harry could have easily followed him, keeping the threat alive, but it seemed staying by the girl, protecting her lifeless body was his highest priority—Why? What could he possibly do now that she was dead? Was he prone to mutilate dead girls? Was his touch repugnant enough on its own to warrant such violence?

The anger was still white-hot, but confusion was in the boys’ eyes too now.

Yes, six(c) seemed pretty likely.

So, how had he lost his memory? He himself didn’t seem hurt in the slightest physically, he didn’t even have so much as a spitting headache to tell him he’d knocked his head hard enough to lose his memory. It didn’t appear as though he and the boy had dueled, despite the indication they were opponents, and the sword in his hand. Nothing indicated how he could lose his memory, or why…or, come to think of it, why he was still alive.

If it was true he had killed her, that they were enemies, why hadn’t Harry killed him in his sleep? He surely had the chance, in the midst of all the wailing. Why didn’t he walk up to him, send that sword through him and be done with it? Why didn’t he fight him, run him through, now? Tom was clearly unarmed, and Harry was likely the one who killed the snake, clearly he had the upper hand, the power to do so. It all made too much sense.

He could tell he wanted to.

…The diary. It must be connected to everything. Would it reveal the truth of the situation, and his lost memories? Everything seemed to trace back to it. From the looks of things, it was the source of the scene…and it was the most confusing part of the scenario. If he started with it, perhaps he could get somewhere.

He sauntered back to it, crouched down and picked up the mangled cover, staring at the name, the holes where someone—presumably Harry—had stabbed it, a few blank pages hanging limply out of the binding. But why would he hurt an inanimate diary?

“Who’s Tom Riddle?” he asked.

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dinosaurtsukki · 4 years ago

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haikyuu!! characters and their fave musicals

pretty much an hc’s for funsies type of thing. which characters are absolute nerds for musicals and which ones couldn’t care less? i know not everyone likes musicals but if this is your thing, feel free to read!

Hinata: he’s one of those people who watched Shrek the Musical unironically and ended up getting really hooked on it but no way is he going to tell anyone

Kageyama: thinks that the Shrek trilogy are counted as movie musicals because ‘the characters sing and everything’. will fall asleep in a theatre so don’t bring him you’ll be disappointed

Tsukishima: loves Avenue Q and The Producers because the humor is right up his alley. also has tASTE and his fave is probs something like Hadestown because it is the best musical. loves to break down the lyrics and listens to an album non-stop when he’s obsessed

Yamaguchi: he tried to watch Grease but ended up throwing popcorn at the tv-screen because of the blatant sexism. yams is not About That. gets his recommendations from Tsukki and has never looked back

Tanaka: likes anything with awesome choreography and really cool special-effects like Hamilton or Be More Chill. when you ask him about the story though he’s like ???

Noya: doesn’t get the concept of musicals. ‘she’s singing about the guy but he’s right there??? doesn’t he hear everything????’ ‘WHY ARE THEY SINGING JUST FIGHT ALREADY’

Ennoshita: also has Taste. watches pretty much anything and loves to keep track of new productions and new casting. if you ask him about his favorite musical he’ll probably specifically mention the cast and where it was performed

Asahi: y’all are gonna hate me y’all are gonna hate me but JESUS CHRIST SUPERSTAR haha jk. one hundred percent a Dear Evan Hansen kinda guy because he relates to the main guy’s personality. has waving through a window on repeat

Sugawara: LOVES the classics: Les Miserables, Phantom of the Opera, Miss Saigon. knows every song and movement by heart. sings them everywhere. would not listen to anything else. also Moulin Rouge because he’s one Classy Bitch

Daichi: appreciates any good musical recommended to him but the kind of person who presses ‘shuffle’ when listening to the recording and all the fans around him die inside. does this more than once just for that reaction

Kiyoko: loves anything with awesome female roles, particularly Legally Blonde and Six the Musical. raises an eyebrow at you if you say you like Grease and you land on her list of people she would barely talk to

Yachi: practically raised on disney movie musicals. loves to watch and re-watch videos from Broadway Princess Party a lot. is basically a disney princess herself and loves to put some songs on when she cleans the house.

Kuroo: one of those people who got really into Hamilton back in the day. would sing the vocals, the back-up vocals, the chorus parts, and hum the intros. says he’s a musical fan but that’s the only one he’s watched/listened to.

Kenma: someone recommended Be More Chill to him (probably tsukki) and he ended up actually liking it. once in a while you’ll hear him humming ‘christiiiiIIiine’ under his breath. likes to listen to michael in the bathroom at 2 am

Yaku: hates musicals ever since Nekoma had a movie night and then decided to watch Lion King and lev dead-ass lifted him up over his head like what rafiki did to simba in That Scene.

Lev: another one who likes disney musicals but like, the basic ones (frozen, tangled, beauty and the beast). mostly because they’re his sister’s favorites tho. has more than once did the whole ‘do you want to build a snowman’ thing with alisa and probably his teammates

Oikawa: thinks that liking Heathers makes him edgy it doesn’t. practically paid hanamaki and matsukawa to sing Candy Store with him and using iwa as veronica. absolutely vibes to the Mean Girls musical

Iwaizumi: a hard High School Musical stan, now and forever. thinks that Ryan and Chad are definitely gay. one time oikawa was giving them a pep talk and said ‘what team?’ and iwa yelled ‘WILDCATS’ and then everybody looked at him because they KNEW they KNEW HE NEVER GOT OVER THAT PHASE--

Matsukawa: Cats. The Movie.* wrote a long-ass thread on twitter about why the female cats should be given six boob and tagged Tom Hooper. was blocked.

Hanamaki: *see above. probably had his sexual awakening when he saw Idris Elba as a sexy cat. there’s nothing gendered about a sexy cat

Kyoutani: likes the leather jacket aesthetic in Grease. looked up the lyrics to ‘Greased Lightning’ once and shut off his laptop when he saw the innuendos. may have tried to replicate the choreography at one point but fell off a table

Yahaba: a romantic at heart. has a copy of the West Side Story DvD and loves to sing ‘Maria’ and ‘One Hand, One Heart.’ he and Oikawa love to duet ‘I Feel Pretty.’ also tried to copy the choreography and sUCCEEDED

Ushijima: you’ve taken him to see an array of musicals, from the much-loved classics to the inventive modern musicals. every time, you glance at him hoping for any reaction. he always leaves the theater saying ‘it was good.’ only one musical has managed to make him crack a smile: The Muppets (the movie ver.)

Tendou: another boy with Quality Taste. is a hardcore stan of any musical by Team Starkid (also loves that they’re all on Youtube). makes so many references to them but nobody else understands. will yell ‘TIGERFUCKER TIGERFUCKER’ out of the blue

Shirabu: thinks that La La Land is Peak Taste. got angry when tendou showed him a video of ryan gosling scenes in the movie but it’s all replaced by barry, the bee from Bee Movie. now La La Land is ruined because he keeps on remembering ‘you like jazz?’ in barry’s voice

Semi: tells you that he just doesn’t watch musicals but he secretly had such a Les Miz phase. writes enjolras x reader fanfics and his longest one was 200k words. if he hears anything that vaguely sounds like ‘do you hear the people sing’, a tear will fall out of the corner of his eye

Goshiki: was looking for slime tutorials one and stumbled on ‘not hamilton just a 2 hr slime tutorial’ y’all kno what i’m talking about and watched the whole thing. was disappointed that there weren’t any slimes but is now into hamilton

Akaashi: knows and understands the peak performance quality and biblical philosophy of Jesus Christ Superstar. doesn’t tell anyone about it though because they all assume its all church music. ‘it’s not’, he sobs. ‘it’s more.’

Bokuto: akaashi recommended Jesus Christ Superstar to him and he watched it, thinking that he’d see jesus playing an electric guitar. he was very disappointed and sulked about it for a week. LOVES disney musicals though

Atsumu: was one of those kids who would look up the Harry Potter Puppet Pals videos on youtube and stumbled in to A Very Potter Musical. ever since jk rowling’s snake side came out he began accepting that fan musical as canon. likes to piss rowling off by posting screenshots of the musical and saying its from the movie

Osamu: the Disney fan but with Quality Taste. loves Hunchback of Notre Dame, Princess and the Frog, Prince of Egypt, and Anastasia (the last two aren’t disney but animated musicals). cries at the sound of Phil Collins’ sultry voice.

Kita: is in love with Phantom of the Opera because his grandmother loves listening to it. he’d sing THE ENTIRE SOUNDTRACK pretty much every day until his teammates catch him singing in the locker rooms while they were changing AND NAILING ALL OF CHRISTINE’S HIGH NOTES LIKE ITS NOTHING

Terushima: doesn’t like musicals so his friend recommended that he watch The Guy Who Didn’t Like Musicals by Team Starkid because of the crackhead humor. watched Robert Manion perform and ending up going on google and searching ‘does watching men move their hips real nice make me bi?’

Koganegawa: y’all are gonna be surprised but this one’s a hardcore Wicked fan. has watched all of the different castings of it. he loves to imitate Elphaba’s iconic ‘FIEEEEROOOOOOO’ line in the showers and records it, just to see if he’s close to how it sounds onstage. has Idina Menzel’s autograph

Futakuchi: bitch does nothing but roast everyone else’s musical tastes. hamilton? ‘wow, mainstream much?’ dear evan hansen? ‘psshh, basic.’ be more chill? ‘think you’re edgy or something?’ the greatest show? ‘what are you? five?’ his favorite musical is actually Cats

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu!! headcanons #hc's for funsies #haikyuu!! characters + their fave musicals #i watch a certain amount of musicals #and i thought this would be fun #don't mind me lowkey dragging some of y'all's musical tastes #feel free to download

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onelonelystory · 3 years ago

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I posted 3,294 times in 2021

139 posts created (4%)

3155 posts reblogged (96%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 22.7 posts.

I added 134 tags in 2021

#0 - 12 posts

#hockey tag - 45 posts

#ask - 21 posts

#happy new year - 13 posts

#mim says happy new year! - 12 posts

#ask meme - 8 posts

#anon - 7 posts

#my gorgeous friend - 7 posts

#lmao - 5 posts

#<3 - 4 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#supernatural be like we are going to spend a decade calling this man weird and queer and strange while encouraging our audience to id with h

My Top Posts in 2021

159 notes • Posted 2021-04-09 13:37:09 GMT

Every time I see a “guys jk rowling is a transphobe and we know that now but acting like it was obvious in her work is a false narrative” I am so frustratingly conflicted because on the one hand it is true. Most of the notable transphobic tropes are minute details that certainly didn’t stand out to me at the time, especially as a child, and acting like it was always an inherent part of her work and motivations probably neglects a very relevant timeline of radicalization. I don’t think saying “oh she’s always been transphobic you could have seen it in the books if you paid attention” is very helpful analysis.

That being said people of color have been telling you she was racist since the books first came out, and nobody listened. Like that shit was textual, but you couldn’t get a white fan to stop talking about hogwarts houses long enough for it to matter to them. People were pointing out explicit racism, fatphobia, xenophobia in those books from the very beginning and it did not stop it from becoming the largest book series ever, or from white fans telling the rest of us we were interpreting it in bad faith.

So I can’t help wondering, like. If someone had noticed, if there were young trans fans seeing themselves villainized, like. Would they have felt like bringing it up? Or would they have felt like they didn’t have enough “evidence” for a legitimate interpretation? Were there enough fans at the time willing to consider it a concern worth having? Or would it have been easier to shrug it off, keep the criticism to corners of the internet where people can’t look back on it?

239 notes • Posted 2021-08-15 02:22:22 GMT

Hey can I just say it really fucks me up when people out here act like tuberculosis is some kind of extinct romantic victorian disease.

612 notes • Posted 2021-01-30 22:28:14 GMT

If this cruella spin off is just about her being evil and bad but also sexy I’ll enjoy it. However because we live in hell I look forward to seeing y’all in two months for “the dogs were an acceptable sacrifice” discourse

1286 notes • Posted 2021-02-17 16:44:28 GMT

Happy new year

57946 notes • Posted 2021-01-01 06:44:15 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#did yesterday 2020 vision post inescapable #y'all know I still get notes on that? it's december

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bush-viper-cutie · 4 years ago

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“No One Listens” || YEAR 3 – Ch.40 (HP au)

Chapter List

<-- Last Chapter Next Chapter -->

Day posted: 2/6/2021

Word count: 2,888

Relationship: EVENTUAL severus X oc (slow burn)

Rating: E for everyone

Warnings: none

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A/N: This is my first fan fic I’m writing mainly as a way to practice. This is a retelling of the hp books with an inserted character. Although most every character will be written about, this is mostly for the pro snape fandom. Please do not fear, although this is a severus x oc story, it is an incredibly slow burn as I do not intend for them to get together at all until after the final book events. Chapters will be posted twice a week.

This derivative work follows the events of the Harry Potter books by Jk Rowling and is intended as a fun way to practice my writing. Thank you for reading :D

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~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~

Heather and Hermione followed Madam Pomfrey as she moved Harry into a bed next to Ron. He looked pale and there were beads of sweat trickling down his temples.

“When will he wake up?” Hermione asked.

Madam Pomfrey placed a cold towel on his forehead and sighed. “Soon I suspect. How many where there?”

“Dozens, maybe hundreds… or more…” Heather tried to count all the misty cloaks in her memory but they all morphed into one nightmare-ish cloud of anguish and torment.

“Oh dear.” Madam Pomfrey shook her head and moved onto Ron again.

Heather and Hermione sat on the chairs by Harry’s bed and waited for something to happen. Hermione seemed to be waiting for Harry and Ron to wake up, but now that Harry was safe under Madam Pomfrey’s care, Heather waited for Professor Dumbledore to show up like he always did after these events.

She would settle everything with Professor Dumbledore as soon as he arrived and save Sirius, their only chance at a better home. She and Hermione would tell him everything that happened and their reputations as good students should at least warrant an investigation into it all.

“Shocking business…” a grim voice sounded from outside the hospital wing, just barely audible enough in the quiet chamber. “Shocking…”

Heather turned and strained her hearing.

“Miracle none of them died…”

Heather turned to Hermione and whispered, “I think that’s Fudge.”

Hermione nodded. “Is he alone?”

The voice was growing louder. He must be walking down the hall towards them! Heather moved to stand at the foot of Harry’s bed, ready to face the Minister of Magic with the unbelievable truth they’d all learned tonight.

“Never heard the like… by thunder, it was lucky you were there, Snape…”

“Thank you, Minister,” Snape said courtly.

Heather’s courage began to diminish. If Professor Snape was the one he was conversing with, then her reputation as a good student would surely be ruined if he mentioned her attack on him to Cornelius Fudge. She wondered if it was possible for her school file to transfer to a ministry file. Would her future employers be able to open up a file and know all the reasons for her detentions? Maybe she should hide again…

“Order of Merlin, Second Class, I’d say. First Class, if I can wrangle it!”

“Thank you very much indeed, Minister.” Professor Snape had never sounded more kindly.

Heather and Hermione exchanged wide-eyed looks. Although Professor Snape had done nothing for uncovering Peter Pettigrew and his whereabouts or listened to Sirius plead his innocence OR saved them all from Professor Lupin’s werewolf attack… She supposed she could look the other way, considering Harry was safe in bed next to her and not at the mercy of hundred or more soul-thirsty dementors.

“Nasty cut you’ve got there… Black’s work, I suppose?”

Her courage drained completely.

“As a matter of fact, it was the Potters.” He now sounded right on the other side of the hospital doors.

Furdge gasped. “You don’t say! Why, I wouldn’t have thought Harry to be the kind to – ”

“Black had them bewitched. I recognized it immediately. A Confundus Charm on each one, Weasley and Granger included, judging by their behavior. They seemed to believe there was a possibility he was innocent. They weren’t responsible for their actions… However, their interference might have led to more serious consequences had I not regained my consciousness in time. I believe they thought they were going to catch Black single-handed. Had their previous bad behavior not been excused, I’m sure they wouldn’t have even attempted it. They’ve gotten away with a great deal before now… I’m afraid it’s given them a rather high opinion of themselves… And of course the Potters have always been allowed an extraordinary amount of license by the Headmaster – I can hardly manage the girl with the boy being permitted just about anything.”

Heather closed her gaping mouth and crossed her arms. ‘Manage’? Her frown was as deep as Hermione’s. How were they to convince him if Professor Snape was going around saying they had been Confunded!

“Ah, well, Snape…. You know how it is, with Harry Potter and of course his sister… We’ve all got a bit of a blind spot where they’re concerned.”

“And yet – is it good for them to be given so much special treatment? Personally, I try to treat them like any other student. And any other student would be suspended – at the very least – for leading their friends into such dangers. Consider, Minister… against all school rules set in place for them, after all the precautions the Ministry put in place for them, they found themselves out-of-bounds, after hours, consorting with a werewolf and a murderer – and I have reason to believe they’ve been visiting Hogsmeade illegally too – ”

“Yes, yes, well… We shall see. We shall see… They have been undoubtedly foolish – ”

“Foolish. Half-witted. Irresponsible. Imprudent – ”

“They are children after all – say, you’ve really no idea what made all the dementors retreat?”

“No, Minister… By the time I had come ‘round, they were all heading back to their positions at the entrances.”

“Oh dear… Their behavior both amazes me and frightens – to be perfectly honest. You don’t think Black had commanded them in any way before he fell to their effects?”

“Trust me, Minister, Black hasn’t the skill or capacity for the knowledge. He is merely a dangerous murderer through sheer excitement for chaos and his atrocious disregard for lives. Potter is lucky to be alive. If the dementors hadn’t exhausted Black half to death – ”

Heather jumped. Was Sirius really half dead? But he wasn’t being treated in the hospital wing… Hermione looked to her with concern. She hoped Professor Snape would leave already so they could have the Minister’s ears to themselves.

“I am sure this night would have ended quite differently,” Professor Snape finished.

“Ah, you’re awake!”

Heather turned to Madam Pomfrey and saw her looking down at Harry. She was carrying the largest brick of chocolate she’d ever seen.

She took out a little wooden mallet from her nurse’s apron pocket and began crushing it on Harry’s bedside table. “Belgian dark chocolate, only used for emergencies. And don’t mind the cocoa solids if you find any, those’ll perk you right up – What do you think you’re doing, Mr. Potter?”

Harry sat up and slid his glasses up his nose. “How’s Ron?”

“He’ll live – Just one moment, Potter – ” She tried to push him back into bed but he wiggled out before she could.

“We need to see the Headmaster,” Harry said hoarsely.

“Fudge is right outside,” Heather told him. “When he comes in here we can, but first – hey!”

“Good then let’s go tell him right now.” Harry pushed passed Hermione and Heather and headed for the door.

“Potter,” Madam Pomfrey said as soothingly as possible. She had come around the bed and planted herself in his way. “It’s all right. They’ve got Black. He’s likely already locked away upstairs. The dementors should be performing the kiss any moment – ”

“WHAT?” all three of them yelled.

Madam Pomfrey angrily sushed them. “Mr. Weasley is resting – as you should be, Mr. Potter.”

The hospital doors swung open and Professor Snape and Cornelius Fudge stepped in, having heard their exclamation. Fudge didn’t look very pleased, seeing Harry out of bed and trying to get around Madam Pomfrey.

“You should be in bed, Harry.” He turned to Madam Pomfrey, “Has he had any chocolate?”

“Excuse me, Minister, please,” Heather cut in before Madam Pomfrey could drag Harry away. “Please, its important – ”

“Sirius Black is innocent,” Harry began talking over Heather. “We saw Peter Pettigrew tonight! He faked his death – we can’t let the dementors do that thing to Sirius! He’s – ”

Hermione joined in the explanation. “He was Ron’s rat, Scabbers, of course we didn’t know that – he’s an animagus you see and – ”

Fudge was shaking his head and waving his hands around, trying to halt their talking. “Harry, children – Please, you’re all very confused. This dreadful night has been far too much, hasn’t it? Let’s get you back in bed, Harry. Madam Pomfrey, please. Don’t worry, we have everything under control, children – ”

“BUT YOU HAVEN’T!” Harry yelled. “YOU”VE GOT THE WRONG MAN!”

Heather clasped her hands together pleadingly, desperate. “It’s true, please believe us, he’s innocent and Peter Pettigrew is getting away – ”

Professor Snape approached from behind Fudge’s shoulder. “See, Minister?” he whispered. “Completely confunded… Black’s done quite the job on them all.”

“NONE OF US ARE CONFUNDED!” Harry roared, throwing his arms up angrily.

“Minister! Professor! This conversation is distressing my patients and I must insist that you both leave.” Madam Pomfrey now began motioning them both away. “Mr. Potter, Miss Granger – this way to bed, please.”

“No! I’m not distressed! I’m trying to tell them what happened if they’d just listen!” Harry said furiously but Madam Pomfrey had found the perfect opportunity at the last word and stuffed a chunk of dark chocolate in his mouth.

Madam Pomfrey pulled Harry by the arm and forced him into bed. She turned back around and pointed at the door. “Now, visiting hours are over, please, Minister.”

But before Madam Pomfrey could shoo them out, the door opened and Professor Dumbledore came in, spotting them immediately.

Heather ran up to him and walked by his side as he approached the group. “Professor! Peter Pettigrew is gone – and Sirius Black is – ”

He walked on, ignoring her completely without even a look her way. Her heart dropped. Everyone was ignoring them! An innocent man was about to die and not a single person in the room was willing to hear them out!

“Headmaster, I’m trying to deliver the proper care to these students. I must insist that everyone leave so that they may calm down – ”

“Of course, Poppy, my apologies. However I do need a word with the Potters and Miss Granger for just a moment.” Professor Dumbledore looked at Harry, “I’ve just been talking to Sirius Black – ”

Professor Snape scoffed in revulsion. “And is he still telling the same fairy tale he’s planted in their minds? Something about a rat and Pettigrew being alive – ”

“That very one,” said Professor Dumbledore, regarding Professor Snape closely over his half-moon glasses.

“And does my evidence count for nothing?” Professor Snape spat. “Peter Pettigrew was not in the Shrieking Shack, nor did I see any sign of him on the grounds.”

“That was because you were knocked out!” Heather said too quickly to rethink her words.

“And who’s fault was that!” he snarled.

“But it’s true,” Hermione began, sounding like she often did in class. “If you had only arrived in time to hear – ”

“Miss Granger, HOLD YOUR TONGUE!”

The Minister jumped at Professor Snape’s tone. “Now, Snape. They are clearly disturbed in the mind. After what happened, we must make allowances – ”

“I would like to speak to Harry, Heather, and Hermione alone,” Professor Dumbledore cut him off. “Cornelius, Severus, Poppy – Please leave us.”

“Albus! But they need rest and – ” Madam Pomfrey frowned at Professor Dumbledore’s polite smile and huffed. She marched off across the room and slammed her office door shut.

Fudge took out a large golden pocket watch from his waistcoat and consulted it. “The dementors should have arrived by now.” He looked out the window and shivered, turning back to Professor Dumbledore. “I’ll meet you upstairs.” He walked to the door and held it open for Professor Snape.

Professor Snape made no intention to leave and Fudge walked out, letting the door close on its own.

“You surely don’t believe a word of Black’s story?” Professor Snape whispered, his eyes fixed on Professor Dumbledore’s half-lidded eyes.

“I wish to speak to Harry, Heather, and Hermione alone,” Professor Dumbledore repeated politely.

Professor Snape took a step closer. “Sirius Black showed he was capable of murder at the age of sixteen,” he breathed. “You haven’t forgotten that, Headmaster? You haven’t forgotten that he once tried to kill ME?”

“My memory is as good as it ever was, Severus,” Professor Dumbledore said quietly. He stared down at Professor Snape for several seconds until he turned on his heel and stormed out of the room, slamming the door louder than even Madam Pomfrey.

As soon as it turned quiet, the three of them began speaking at once.

“Sirius is telling the truth! We saw Peter Pettigrew escape – ”

“ – he’s an animagus and ran when Professor Lupin turned into a werewolf and – ”

“ – a rat with only four fingers – ”

“ – is completely innocent and it’s really Pettigrew who – ”

Professor Dumbledore pressed his finger to his lips and they immediately stopped talking.

“You three must listen very closely, and there is no time for interruptions,” he said calmly. “It is your word – the word of three thirteen year olds who have already been accused of being confunded – and the word of a convicted criminal against the Minister’s and a member of my staff – a head of house no less – with no shred of proof to discredit the street full of eyewitness accounts who swear they saw Sirius murder Pettigrew. I myself gave evidence to the Ministry that Sirius had been the Potter’s Secret-Keeper.”

“But Professor Lupin can – ” Hermione was cut off by Professor Dumbledore’s hand held up to stop her.

“Professor Lupin is currently running deep within the forest, unable to tell anyone anything. By the time he is human again, it will have been too late for Sirius. Even if Professor Lupin could give his account to the details of tonight it would count for very little. Werewolves are deeply mistrusted by most of our kind and the fact that he and Sirius are old friends – ”

Harry was shaking his head. “But – ”

“Listen to me, Harry. It is too late for explanations. By the time you get anyone to listen to you, Sirius will be worse than dead. Professor Snape’s version of events is far more convincing than any of yours.”

“He refuses to listen because he hates Sirius!” Hermione wiped the tears that had started running down her cheek. “That’s why he refused to listen in the shack. All because of some stupid trick that Sirius played on him YEARS AGO – ”

“Sirius’ actions this year have not helped his reputation. The attack on the Fat Lady, entering Gryffindor Tower with a knife, none of those are actions of an innocent man. We would need Pettigrew, alive or dead, to have any chance at overturning Sirius’ sentence.”

Heather frowned. “But if you believe us, Professor… Can’t you – ”

Professor Dumbledore shook his head. “I have no power to make these men see the truth, or to overrule the Minister of Magic.”

Heather’s lips began to tremble as she ran out of ideas. What could they do? Their word didn’t matter. Sirius’ word didn’t matter. Professor Lupin couldn’t give his word and even if he did it wouldn’t matter. In a matter of seconds Sirius could be given the kiss and not even Professor Dumbledore could save him. Do they just give up?

She hugged herself and squeezed tight, wishing she could go back in time and act more enthusiastic about possibly living with Sirius. She regretted feeling so cautious about him and not participating in their special moment in the tunnel, godfather and godchildren reunited. “So then, what can we do? What do we do?”

Professor Dumbledore’s tone changed and he spoke very slowly, “Sirius is locked in a prison cell inside Professor Flitwick’s office on the seventh floor. Thirteenth window from the right of the West Tower. To save Sirius… we’ll need – ” His eyes moved to Hermione. “more time.”

Heather stared at Hermione intensely as she pieced together what Professor Dumbledore was saying.

“But – Oh!”

Professor Dumbledore smiled. “Keep in mind, you must not be seen. Miss Granger, you know the law – and you know what’s at stake… Do – not – be – seen.” He turned on his heel and was already across the room by the time Harry had realized their conversation had ended.

“B-but what – I don’t – ” Harry sputtered.

Professor Dumbledore opened the door and looked at them over his shoulder. “I’m going to lock you in. It is – ” he pulled out a pocket watch and flipped it open, “five minutes to midnight. Three turns should do it. Good luck.”

He closed the door and a click echoed through the chamber. Harry whirled around and stared at Hermione with Heather – who was crossing her arms over her chest, still staring but with an added frown.

Hermione ignored them and pulled on a golden chain around her neck, pulling a little trinket out from under her sweater. “Come here, both of you, quick!”

Harry moved towards her and Heather was pulled into them before she could open her mouth to start her long string of complaints. Hermione threw the chain around the three of them.

“Ready?” Hermione didn’t look up at them for confirmation. She picked up the trinket – it was a tiny golden hourglass with sand that sparkled with the light – and began twisting.

Heather watched her closely. “And when were you going to tell us about – ”

At the third twist, the hospital chamber dissolved.

~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~

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