#voldemort pov

[wwreversetropefest2024]

Beat the Sunday scaries with a reverse trope fic...

If History's Clear by @browneyesandhair (T, 1/1)

➡️ READ ON AO3

[realitybitesyouknowit]

Chapters: 5/5 Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Harry Potter/Voldemort Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Harrymort - Freeform, Choking, Hilarity, mild violence, Moral Bankruptcy, Political Nonsense, General Nonsense Really, Sadism, of the sexual sort, Rimming, Dirty Talk, Desk Sex, Dumbledore is very disappointed Summary:

Draco is sure he accidentally touched one of his father's illegal artifacts and is hallucinating as a result. Why else would he be seeing Harry-Bloody-Potter prancing around his house with Lord-Bloody-Voldemort?

[hptrash-lookaway]

Idk if literally anyone else thinks about this, but I’m also always thinking about Harry being all sad because people don’t really see him when they look at him, they see the bwl or his parents

And yeah there’s a ton of people who do see Harry as just the bwl, but like,, outside of like,, the order and a couple of others, most people probably aren’t seeing Harry’s parents in him, like Lily and James weren’t famous till they died (outside of James being the sole heir to an old line, although it does raise the question of if people took issue with him marrying Lily since she was a muggleborn, anyways how many people would care that much about James being the last Potter outside of other old family lines?) so outside of the people they personally interacted with, most probably didn’t pay that much attention to them, whereas Harry is hella famous and has been that way for most of his life

Idk if I can actually articulate my point but anyways once again thinking about a lot of people from the marauders generation ending up in the hp generation, and Harry’s all worried about no one caring about him anymore because he thinks most people only care about him as a replacement for his parents, but a lot of the people from his generation are only excited to meet them because they’re Harry’s parents

Idk it’s also funny to me to think about it being like still in the middle of the war and the order really caring about Lily and James being back and feeling more confident, and outside of like Snape, most of the death eaters and Voldemort aren’t fully sure who they’re looking at for a few seconds, like they’ve just been so focused on Harry for so long, only caring about them when that prophecy came out

(and considering it had to have come out around when Harry was born because due dates are so fickle and he was 1 when they were killed, it had to be max a year till they were found, not too long in the grand scheme of things)

Also I’m imagining that this is more teenage James and Lily, so it doesn’t help that they don’t look exactly how they did before dying

(My reasoning for most death eaters not caring about James and Lily before the prophecy is that I believe the theory that most order members weren’t public knowledge, they didn’t have to go into hiding until the prophecy was made (if DE’s cared about them, no way they wouldn’t have been in a protected house from the start), we don’t really know what defying Voldemort means so it could’ve been anything, doesn’t necessarily mean it was in a way Voldemort would’ve cared about till he sat down to figure out which family the prophecy could be about and was like “oh wait”, and some other reasons that make sense only to me and idk how to word them)

(Like I really think they’d be in the same amount of being famous as Tonks would be pre-prophecy, she’s an order member, she’s an auror like James who probably doesn’t take shit from all those death eaters who should’ve been in Azkaban and are now living normal lives, and she has a dramatic family history, her mom was completely disowned from a very well known family for marrying her dad, when they didn’t even completely disown Sirius!! And then she had a baby with a known werewolf, yet there’s not ever really a sense that she’s that famous or that death eaters care that much about her)

[underwittingly]

@into-the-midst

for the scene of Draco amongst the trophies in ch14 of Within the Hollow Crown

[lolathestoryteller]

Until the end, i’ll stay by your side (May 22 prompt; Undercover) @jilymicrofics

“Hold on,” James raises his hand, effectively stopping Harry from further explaining this, admittedly quite brilliant, yet ridiculous plan to the entire Order of the Phoenix. “You want to just stride into Hogwarts, where Voldemort’s men—”

“Don’t say his name!” Arthur Weasley interrupts sharply, and James sighs, raising his hands apologetically.

“Dad.” Harry says, drawing James’s attention back to him — his son.

His son whom he has not seen in months. Now sat before him, as though he hadn’t ran off to search for Horcruxes without ever telling them.

“This is our only chance. We have to do it tonight. Aberforth will send you all through the secret passageway right into the room of requirement and then—“

“Us?” Lily asks, her eyes set on their son as well, though her fingers squeeze his under the table with a painful amount of force. “What about you?”

Harry looks to Ron, then Hermione, before meeting her eyes. “We’ll go ahead, undercover. There’s…still a hidden Horcrux somewhere inside the castle.” he explains, though James can already feel Lily’s disapproval radiating off of her before she even speaks.

“No.” she replies, and it isn’t a suggestion.

Though, Harry seems to either not notice, or he doesn’t care. “Yes.” he insists, his green eyes filled with a fire so familiar, James would only have to look to his left, to Lily, to see it reflected. “Mum, I have to find it.”

“We’ll come with you.” she replies in a heartbeat, and James can only nod along fervently.

Harry looks like he would love to grant them their request, but James already knows they can’t. It’s something Harry and his mates have to do by themselves. It kills him that he cannot find that bloody Horcrux himself…anything so Harry wouldn’t have to.

“Alright,” he concedes, looking at Harry intently. “We’ll meet you in the great hall, just like you planned.”

“James—“ Lily looks to him in appall, but he takes her hands both in his to hush her.

“Lil, he’s right. We’ve got to let them do it. They’ve been looking for these Horcruxes for months…and…the castle will be full with his people. They need us for distraction.” he says calmly, despite the worry eating at his insides.

She looks like she’s about to cry, or scream, and he understands— never would he have imagined them sending Harry off into Voldemort’s lair by himself…but Harry isn’t a little boy anymore. “Lily, let him go.” he whispers, only for her to hear.

She blinks against the subtle, yet stubborn glimmer of tears, bravely swallowing them until, at last, she gives in. “Alright,” she resides, her voice not as convincing as he’d hoped— for Harry’s sake— though, who could blame her?

“But,” she turns back to look at their son, reaching across the table to take his hand into hers. “Promise to meet us in the great hall.”

Harry smiles ever so slightly, despite how utterly exhausted he must be. “I promise.”

“And if anything goes wrong—“

“Mum,” he interrupts Lily’s ramble with a shake of his head. “It’ll be fine.”

James wraps an arm around Lily’s shoulders, letting her fall against his side as they both stare at their grown up boy. “We’ll wait for you there, yeah?” he asks, taking Harry’s other hand into his.

Harry looks back at them with a raw, unbreakable determination. “I won’t let him win.” he promises— James doesn’t know how his son could make such a promise, when his enemy is so powerful, yet…something about the way Harry says it makes him believe it too.

“When…he comes…” Harry barely whispers, his hand now cold in James’s. “You’ll stay with me?”

It doesn’t take either of them even a second to answer;

“Until the end.” James replies, squeezing Harry’s fingers.

“Always.” Lily promises.

[tommarvoloriddlesdiary]

By the time it’s through, Harry is a panting victorious mess.

He swears some Gryffindors get dumber by the year. They were pulling the same stunt at every start of the term. I mean, Harry scoffs and thinks to himself, they couldn’t even have been bothered to pick a different corridor. It astounds Harry how persistent their hatred of Slytherins—of him especially, remains even after all these years.

Like, so what? He can talk to a few snakes, and he’s alright at quidditch, and, yeah, he defeated the Dark Lord Voldemort when he was a baby and then sorted Slytherin at eleven. It’s not like anyone told him it was some cultural taboo to accidentally end a war and sort into the mass murderer’s Hogwarts House.

Honestly, Harry has a sneaking suspicion that even if someone had told him, he’d of ended up in a similar, if not worse, situation. So he’ll take the yearly Gryffindor smackdown any day.

Surveying his handiwork, Harry gives a pleased nod to nothing in particular. These six definitely need the medi-wing, but, seeing as Harry was slighted from the Head Boy position and finishing off his final year at Hogwarts as a mere seventh-year prefect, he figures this can slip under his radar. Of course, it’s not good to slack on the first week back, and usually Harry frowns at anything of the sort, but six to one is his new personal best. So, this little lapse in duty can be a small treat for a job well done.

The pep to his step and smile on his face certainly agree with Harry’s decision as he does an about-face and walks a few paces only to come toe to toe with their latest Defence professor.

Shite.

Harry’s face shutters and he freezes in place. There’s no way he can talk his way out of this. But, more importantly, what the hell is he going to do about a bloody witness.

In the haze of panic, Harry has enough sense to correct his posture quickly. He straightens up, shoulders back, hands clasped behind him, and speaks politely, if a little blandly, “Professor Riddle.” Harry bows his head in what he hopes comes across as a sign of respect and not the blatant attempt to hide his wince that it is. How could he have been so careless?

Professor Tom Riddle is the hot new thing in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Not only for the ne’er-do-well gossip mongrels but also just- generally. He’s incredibly attractive and incredibly unknown. Sure, he has more than enough qualifications for the position, but no one has any useful information on the man other than the fact that he might have been a Slytherin in another life. And that’s only because he’s got a pet snake slithering about, allegedly.

All of that to say: Harry has no idea how his new professor will react to this. But it’s vital that he keeps his head down this year; nothing can come between him and freedom from the Dursleys. Especially not a little roughhousing with a few morons. If Professor Riddle punishes him with a detention or eight, it will be a low blow but bearable— and if he brings what Harry’s done to the Headmaster…

Harry is certain expulsion will be considered with a heavy hand. Headmaster Dumbledore did not like Harry one bit.

“Harry Potter,” Professor Riddle’s voice is deep and just on the edge of lilting. It’s a nice voice, Harry’s shocked to acknowledge. His lessons will be a huge step up from Snape’s temporary claim of the role. Thank the gods they forced him back to Potions. Though, Slughorn’s lessons and overall attitude were pleasant while they lasted.

They both stood without saying another word in tense silence. Well, tense for Harry. He’s not too sure what’s rattling around in Professor Riddle’s head that’s keeping him so quiet.

Actually, Harry couldn’t imagine being on the other end of this scenario. Like, what would he do if he’d come upon some kid, who by almost all accounts was the supposed saviour of the wizarding world, beating the shite out of six Gryffindor students? Harry doesn’t think he’d handle it as well as Professor Riddle seems to be. In fact, maybe they should both take a cue from Fake-Professor-Harry and just pretend this never happened.

Harry’s neck is just starting to strain from its lock level with the floor when Professor Riddle speaks, “Lovely day, isn’t it?”

His head snaps up at the pleasant, almost jolly tone. Professor Riddle is staring out into the courtyard, eyes glued to something far, far in the distance. Completely ignoring the six injured students mere metres away.

Dumbfounded, Harry replies, “It’s evening.” And it is evening. Harry tries to look out at whatever has Professor Riddle’s steadfast attention and can’t pinpoint a damn thing. It’s dark as all hell out there. Finally, in the awkward pause, Harry finds the wherewithal to look back and tack on a belated, “Professor.”

Professor Riddle’s eyes slip to Harry’s face, but his head remains still, and Harry comes to the startling realisation that this is meant to be an act. Anyone passing by, or any nosey portraits, would still believe him enchanted by the courtyard and not confronting a rogue student.

“I know you’re socially inept, Mr Potter. But you are not stupid.”

And with that charming, hissed comment, Harry turns about-face once again to also fake watch the courtyard. “Why yes, sir. Very lovely.”

“It seems,” Professor Riddle starts up again, “in my vacant-minded appreciation for this beautiful day, I have forgotten some paperwork in my office. Could you spare a moment to accompany me?” Harry hears the loud and clear statement as what it is: a demand.

“Of course, sir. I happen to be returning to the common room and going that direction regardless.” Harry is oddly proud of the truth of this. He is technically done with his prefect rounds now, anyhow.

“Very good. Come along.”

The walk to Professor Riddle’s office is long. It’s made longer by their run-in with a few of the Hogwarts Ghosts. Peeves has always had this odd tolerance for Harry that he’s gladly taken advantage of more times than he can count. Something about his father and his father’s friends, the best group of pranksters to ever walk these halls! or whatever. Harry’s not gonna look a gift horse in the mouth. Besides, their slight distraction with Peeves has nothing on the Grey Lady’s interaction with Professor Riddle.

She never takes an interest in anyone outside of her little Ravenclaws if Hermione is to be believed. And Hermione is rarely ever wrong. So Harry is on the deep end of surprised when she floats down the other end of the fifth-floor corridor, sees them coming, and waits. Ghosts can’t really be described as warm— unless you were talking about the Fat Friar, and only then because, even as a ghost, he appears to be wearing too many layers for this time of year— but the Grey Lady’s soft eyes for Professor Riddle is a near thing.

“Tom,” she starts as Harry follows his professor’s lead and stops to greet her. “You’re back.”

Harry tries to keep as quiet as a mouse because he very desperately wants to know what she means by that, and he doesn’t think she’s even realised he’s here yet. Harry doesn’t even think he’s ever heard her speak before, either, but her voice is as soft as her eyes. Dainty like bells.

“Yes, Lady Ravenclaw. It has been a long time.” Professor Riddle seems pleased she remembers him. But… Harry can’t put his finger on it. Something just feels off. His neck prickles with that alert sort of awareness, the kind he’s never really been able to break since he was a kid—that prickle of danger.

Grey Lady nods, “Nearly three decades.”

Three decades? Hell, that’s a long time. How old is Professor Riddle anyway? He doesn’t look a day older than thirty, but unless Grey Lady knew him pre-birth, Harry would have to reevaluate his perception of wizard ages.

Harry is vaguely aware that this is all none of his business, and he really shouldn’t be standing here listening closely and pondering on whether or not Professor Riddle was a good Ravenclaw back in the day. But knowledge is power, right? As an obvious Ravenclaw Alumni, Professor Riddle would appreciate Harry’s retention. And since Harry still has no idea how he’ll react to the little skirmish from earlier, looking out for possible blackmail wouldn’t be amiss.  

Professor Riddle looks surprised, “I don’t recall speaking with you the last time I was here.”

“Because you didn’t,” her reply is simple and to the point. Not said with any ounce of anger. It’s undoubtedly spoken with a fair amount of weight, however.

Harry hasn’t spent six, going on seven, years in the snake pit not to pick up on her clear underlying message: you didn’t see me, but I saw you. And even though it sounds like a threat, Harry is confident she only means it as a warning. A warning for what? Harry hopes to find out.

“How terribly remiss of me,” Professor Riddle shakes his head as though ashamed. “We should rectify this, of course, and speak at length when you have the time,” his accompanying smile is bright and charming. Harry almost wants to whistle in appreciation. That is some fine schmoozing if he says so himself.

But Grey Lady doesn’t respond. Instead, she floats on, and as she passes Harry, her shoulder phasing through his, he can’t help noticing her stricken face. The purse to her lips and the translucent grip of her hands, it’s almost like she’s scared.

Harry watches her go, still for a touch too long, and Professor Riddle clears his throat, “If you’ll continue following me, please, Mr Potter.”

His attention snaps back to the professor, “I had no idea you were a Ravenclaw, Professor Riddle.”

Professor Riddle looks very amused for a moment. Then, he continues walking and asks, “Whatever gave that away?”

Harry is immediately suspicious, “Ravenclaw’s Ghost. She doesn’t speak with anyone outside of her House. Even the professors have a hard time catching her attention unless they are one of her past students.” When Professor Riddle doesn’t respond right away, Harry adds, “For example, she didn’t acknowledge me once during your conversation.”

“That is true,” he nods, and that strange amusement lingers on the edges of Professor Riddle’s lips. They don’t speak for the remainder of their walk, though it isn’t without Harry trying.

Really, Harry hasn’t met anyone this paranoid in his life— maybe Moody, but the Auror is in a league all his own. However, Professor Riddle isn’t far behind, acting as though even the floors have ears. Or, at least, Harry assumes it’s paranoia stopping the Professor from answering. Maybe he’s just fed up with Harry’s questions…

As they enter the Defence classroom, Harry takes in the changes. Each Defence Professor certainly came with their own flair. Lockhart with his vain decor and opulence, Remus with his purely educational and scientific creatures posters and skeletons, Moody with his nearly claustrophobic clutter of dark curse detectors and jars of worms and bees, Umbridge with her bare-walled bleakness almost as though she could be the only thing of note in the room, Snape with his… well… Snape-ness—no one was surprised to come into the drawn curtain, candle-lit, gruesome pictured room last year.

Professor Riddle is an interesting mix, Harry thinks. Not over the top with gold and silver or anything like that, but there’s definitely a lustre to everything that speaks of fine quality. There’s a nice variety of defence posters, all topics from creatures to spells to stances to potions. How refreshing after the gloom of Snape. It’s brighter in here, Harry notes. Even in the late hour, the warm glow of the room is inviting.

Harry carefully tucks away the sight of a large empty vivarium for later questioning as Professor Riddle shows him up the staircase to his office.

“Have a seat, Mr Potter.” Professor Riddle rounds his desk, a simple wooden piece, large and already strewn with papers, and takes a seat. Harry follows suit, taking in his office with much less attention than the classroom. If only because it seems Professor Riddle hasn’t finished setting it up to his standards. Piles of books sit abandoned by the many bookshelves covering one wall, and a fair amount of boxes are open and unopened in each corner.

Harry takes a deep breath and readies to defend himself. He thinks he’s got a pretty reasonable defence (pun intended) for his Defence Professor. Even if the man has heard of Harry through gossip rags like Witch Weekly and the hardly-a-news-source Daily Prophet, Harry figures he’s still got the benefit of the doubt.

Unless, of course, Professor Riddle had strong affiliations during the war. That could always go either way. Harry’s met some pretty chill Voldemort supporters over the years and some pretty not-chill ones. The Malfoys, for instance, treat him like a second son, and Harry’s mostly sure that’s only because they think him the next Dark Lord or something. Whereas Theodore Nott, and probably his whole family, definitely hates Harry’s guts for killing Voldemort.

“Professor Riddle, about what happened earlier, I can explain—“ Harry starts and is near immediately cut off.

“You’re quite gifted in spell casting, aren’t you, Mr Potter?” Professor Riddle leans back and crosses his legs, hands in his lap. Okay…he doesn’t look like he’s about to get Harry expelled… And is that a compliment?

“Uh,” Harry stutters. He’s still not good with praise; it’s still so foreign to him. “I wouldn’t use that word, Professor. But thank you.”

Professor Riddle shakes his head, “It is nothing to thank me for if it is a fact. When I was accepted for the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor, I first requested a list of all the students and their academic placements.” He pauses to shuffle the papers around on his desk until he pulls out one long parchment, “Four years straight, you held the top of the list in Defence for your year, and your Ordinary Wizarding Levels were exemplary even though you appear to have barely scraped by in fifth-year with a Dreadful.”

Professor Riddle glances up at Harry with a world-weary look, “I have speculations about why you placed so low the last two years. A Troll for sixth-year? With the casting I saw? Highly unlikely.”

Harry blinks, “Oh,” is all he can muster. Welp, that answers how much of the duel Professor Riddle had seen. And, surely he didn’t have all the Hogwarts students’ placements memorised so thoroughly? Is it just his seventh-year classes? Is it just Harry?

For the first time all evening, Harry is struck with the sudden question: why was Professor Riddle in a random seventh-floor corridor, anyway?

Now, Harry can say what he likes about paranoid people being paranoid. Unfortunately, it didn’t mitigate the fact that Harry was a touch paranoid himself. And, even though Professor Riddle hasn’t come off as anything less than concerned-professor-addressing-his-student, Harry still hasn’t quite gotten over that prickle of danger back with Grey Lady. It would be absolutely batty to think Professor Riddle was following him, or whatever, but now that Harry’s thought about it, he can’t stop thinking about it.

“That is just Defence. You have placed consistently in the top 10 of almost all your other classes since you arrived at Hogwarts,” Professor Riddle rolls up the parchment and sets it aside. “Divination and you do not seem to agree, however.”

Harry can’t tell if Riddle is impressed, surprised, or both. Honestly, he’s kind of busy scoping out any easy exit points now that he’s spiralling down the my-new-defence-professor-might-be-stalking-me rabbit hole. Harry lets out a strained laugh and hopes that’s enough of an answer.

“You appear to be a bright young man, so why did you feel the need to fight six Gryffindor students after curfew, Mr Potter?”

Indignant, Harry decides to shelf his panic attack for later, “I didn’t feel the need. This is a yearly thing they like to do. They’ve decided they are within their rights to punish me for my audacity to sort Slytherin when I was eleven and enjoy cornering me during my prefect rounds.”

Riddle arches his brow, “This has been going on for years?”

“Yes.”

“And you’ve not gone to your Head of House?”

Harry nearly scoffs, “Snape and I do not get along.”

“Professor Snape, Mr Potter,” Riddle’s amused smile is back in full force.

Harry presses his lips into a thin line and counts backwards from ten. Twice. “Of course, sir. Professor Snape and I do not get along. He tolerates me on the best of days and probably plans out my murder in vivid detail on the worst.”

Peeves may love Harry’s father. Snape decidedly didn’t. Hardly fair, if anyone asked him, that he has to take Snape’s shitty abuse just because he looks like a man he’s never met.

Riddle nods and tilts his head. He’s silent for a moment before he asks, “And do you like Slytherin House?”

It’s such an out-of-left-field question that Harry gapes for a moment. He pulls himself together enough to give it some serious thought. Does he like being a Slytherin? He’s never been anything else, so it’s hard to say. It was pretty shitty in the beginning. Being ostracised for doing something he didn’t even remember or know about until a month before school while also adjusting to a totally new concept like magic being real was kind of awful. And he wouldn’t recommend it. Still—

“Yes,” Harry answers passionately and wholeheartedly. “I love it. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

And he means it. Because even though first-year had its fair share of torture, it was also magic. It was walls that opened with a whispered word revealing a room with a sea-floor view and green velvet sofas, it was his very own room after years of sleeping in a cupboard under the stairs, it was his first friend and his first laugh, it was wands and potions and spells and charms and magic.

Riddle does seem surprised now, as though he expected Harry to give a very different answer. His quiet turns thoughtful for a long, long while, and Harry wonders how long their meeting will drag out. It’s well after curfew and prefect hours now, isn’t it?

A dragging sound pulls them both from their silence.

Harry’s eyes quickly lock on a stack of precariously stacked boxes. They move slightly as though pushed and wobble dangerously. After a few moments of nothing, a large snake head appears from around its corner.

And that answers Harry’s question about the empty vivarium in the classroom.

The snake’s scales against the stone floor are what make the dragging sound as it carefully moves closer and closer to Harry. A quick glance at Riddle shows that he has no intentions of stopping it; great. In fact, that amusement is far too obvious once again.

Belatedly Harry realises the snake is sort of massive, far longer than any snake he’s ever seen. Including that one ball python at the zoo. The snake’s body gracefully adjusts as it creeps up and up and up until its head is level with Harry’s. A cool forked tongue quickly brushes against his cheek. Harry blinks, wide-eyed.

“Excuse Nagini, Mr Potter. She’s just curious.”

Harry knows he shouldn’t say anything. He knows it’s too risky to reply because he can’t quite control his parseltongue in front of snakes, but he can’t just sit here and not say anything. He’s still trying to get out of expulsion and maybe even a few detentions, after all. So he looks very hard at Riddle and desperately hopes the man won’t act too cruel if Harry slips up, “It’s-s fine, s-sir.”

Harry winces. Even he can tell his s sounds were a little too harsh just then, and Riddle’s brown eyes sharpen at the curious drag of his voice.

Riddle leans forward, elbows on the desk, hands clasped together, and tilts his head. “That’s right. As a Slytherin, you must not mind snakes. Comes with the territory?”

“You could,” Harry swallows, “s-ay that.” He grits his teeth. Hope is a lie. He needs to get out of here.

Somehow Riddle leans ever so closer, “It’s interesting. I was under the impression that her presence here might cause a great disturbance. Headmaster Dumbledore was very worried about student safety and their reactions.”

Harry pauses. His eyes drift back over to Nagini. What? Wait, “Student safety?”

Suddenly Riddle is up and standing. It startles Harry more than he’ll ever admit, and while he’s distracted by that, Nagini rests her large head on his shoulder and inches her way behind his neck, “A speaker? You speak parseltongue, young child?”

Riddle quickly rounds to the front of his desk, his fingers tapping a pleasant little rhythm across it. He finds a comfortable spot and casually leans back against it, arms crossed. Harry’s thigh is almost brushing the long line of Riddle’s legs. Harry wants to die, just a little.

“Mr Potter, Harry,” Riddle says his name like a curse and a blessing and very, very different from how he’s been saying it all evening. A chill runs down Harry’s spine.

Nagini interrupts before Riddle can continue, “Are you cold, young child? Tom, the boy is cold. Warm him.”

“My snake seems rather taken with you, Harry,” Riddle carries on, completely ignoring Nagini and her demands. Which makes sense because Riddle doesn’t speak parseltongue, but Harry is sorely tempted to laugh at how she sounds so used to bossing Riddle around. He doesn’t scream doting pet owner, but maybe Harry’s got a bad read on him. Or maybe the fear and adrenalin are making Harry fucking crazy.

And when did he become Harry and not Mr Potter?

Harry coughs, focusing all his attention on Riddle once more, “Cool. What concern did Dumbledore have for the children?” Nailed it.

Riddle’s answering smile is large and closed-lipped. He’s not laughing, but it sure as hell feels like he is. “Headmaster Dumbledore, Harry. And it is nothing to worry about, as I have taken measures to keep you all safe. Nagini just happens to be rather poisonous; her venom is capable of killing a man in less than a minute.”

Huh. Harry suddenly doesn’t feel all too thrilled about having Riddle’s rather large, potentially man-killing, and weirdly mothering snake getting all cosy on his shoulders. Even now, she’s still hissing nonsense words of concern and praise, and really, Harry’s not been paying too close attention to her out of fear of messing up again.

Harry nods as slowly and carefully as possible. “I get why he’d be a little worried.”

Riddle hums, not necessarily agreeing, not necessarily disagreeing. “Back to our original topic, I will not be reporting your altercation with the Gryffindors.”

The fierce surprise waging a three-way war with suspicion and hope in Harry’s chest is enough to leave him breathless. How the hell did he get this lucky? “Thank you, I really appreciate it—“ Harry stops himself from adding an instinctual sir.

Harry sits uncomfortably in the realisation that Riddle is definitely laughing at him as Riddle’s brows inch up. Harry sighs and says, “s-sir.” He clears his throat.

“Apologies, Harry. It is quite late, is it not? I wouldn’t want to keep you; the term officially starts tomorrow, after all.” Riddle straightens up from his lean, and he’s closer now than he’s ever been to Harry.

“One last thing,” Riddle says, and his hands curl around either side of Harry’s neck. Harry is dizzy in the stifling nearness. Riddle’s not touching him, but the warmth radiating off his body and hands burns until Harry is certain there’ll be blisters.

Riddle carefully takes Nagini from her perch on Harry and wraps her gently across his own shoulders, “In exchange for my silence, I expect us to meet here once a week. Outside of our class time. I shall wait until you get your timetable before picking something suitable for us both.”

Harry’s eyes are glued to the floor when he says, “Yeah. Okay.”

“Harry.”

Harry’s neck whips up at breaking speed, and for just a split second, hardly a blink, Riddle’s eyes are a scolding red.

Harry blinks once, twice, three whole times before he manages a desperate, “Yes, Professor Riddle.”

Riddle’s answering smile is the cat’s canary, and Harry certainly feels like prey to a predator right now.

[anonymouse1312437]

Hidden Away

*Sorry for being away for so long*

TRIGGER WARNING:

This book might be too depressing for some. It is going to contain a lot of angst, some slow burns, and talk of depressing topics.

This will have a series of depressing thoughts coming from the main character played as Y/N.

This contains topics such as

Depression

Anxiety

Self-harm

Suicidal thoughts

Suicidal thoughts

Sexual assault.

Physical abuse.

This is going to be something the also contains in later chapters:

Smut

Breath play

Age-gap

Degradation

Shaming

This is not intended for everyone. This in not at all to run along sign the other passage I am writing which is American Amongst The Brits. This is to be read on its own. I will try to post to both frequently but, this is a favoring one for me at the moment as it is an escape from the current feelings brought on by the seasons. I do hope you enjoy the read. I intended to write this as if it were something that someone could relate to other than the smut sections. I hope you enjoy the read.

Please comment if you enjoy the read. It does bring joy to me to see the comments.

Chapter One:

Another year at a school. However, I was sent to a new country where I knew no one. I had a cousin here who lived in the UK but I have never met or heard of them. Yet here I am about to go to school with them. I don’t even know if they know I exist. My father hated his brother. His brother was a wizard who married a witch. My father was ordinary who married an ordinary woman so when I sneezed and something to do with magic happened it was like I was disowned. Mind you from what they told me when I first sneezed, I was merely a baby.

They raised me to believe that if I were to give into the temptation of learning any magic that it was the work of the Devil and that I would be damn to hell for eternity. My dad, I think, blames me for what happened to my sister and brother. They both never had magic but, when they played with me and something weird would happen, I was the one to take the blame. It was eighteen years of this before they found out the could legally get rid of me. We have always lived in America from my understanding but, clearly my parents have lived here in the United Kingdom. They had British accents that had slowly mended into an American accent. I was born in America and to hide the past they tried their best to make sure I only had an American accent. Some how I just know this will be a problem here. It is probably best to pretend that I am mute at this school.

“Hello dear. It is so good to finally meet you. Welcome to the family home. I am Amber and this is your Uncle Tom. This is your cousin William.” They said and I looked at them and just felt out of place. They were all well-kept, and it was as even the house knew I did not belong here.

“Hi I am y/n. I guess it is nice to finally meet you. I know it’s a bit rude to say this but, I truly did not know any of you existed until just this month.” I said and Tom and Amber smiled at me.

“I knew sweetheart. That is not your fault though. We also did not know in the beginning but he did call and inform us about your abilities at your very first sneeze. He thought we had cursed you with the abilities. He never did understand that it is something you are born with.” My uncle Tom said and of course I should have assumed my dad would do the sort.

“Come now darling. Come inside. Let’s get some food inside of you.” My aunt Amber said. She grabbed onto my shoulder and pulled me into a hug inside of her house. Tom and William just waved at me and escorted me to the table alongside her. She sat beside me and in front of us was a feast. It was odd to see so much food.

“What is America like?” William asked me.

“I am not too sure. I had a lot of strict rules I was forced to follow just because of my abilities. I wasn’t allowed out of the house and once I got into trouble in kindergarten, they forced me to homeschool. I didn’t get to see much outside of my home there. My mother and father didn’t even let me spend time with my siblings.” I said and looked towards my lap. I am fighting back tears right now because I love my siblings deeply but, even they began to be ashamed of me when my parents did not let their friends come over because people forgot I existed. I was just a name they whispered and if their friends came over, they would be questioned about why I was not in school. Then they would have got into trouble and could have ended up in jail. To everyone, I no longer existed.

“You are accepted here dear. You do not have to hide who you are here. Now William is just slightly younger than you, so he is in a different grade, however they are going based off age and that puts you at the start of fifth year. It is a bit advanced. Do you have any knowledge on your magical abilities?” Tom asked.

“I-“I started to say but, I do not wish to get into trouble with them.

“If you have practiced in secret, I promise you will not get into trouble.” Tom said.

“I have practiced. I just don’t have much knowledge outside of hand magic.” I said and Tom smiled.

“Mind showing me something that you have practiced?” Tom asked.

“Really?” I asked and smiled.

“Please.” He said. I waved my hand, and the table cleared. I waved it again and it was put away. I waved my hand once more and I had cleaned up any mess that remained. I waved it for a fourth time and my bags appeared inside the house.

“I am impressed.” Tom said and I felt myself feel something that might be considered happiness.

“Really?” I asked.

“Yes. You have managed to learn a lot by being so sheltered from it. How were you able to study and practice it in my brothers’ house without him knowing?” My uncle Tom asked.

“I only practiced when everyone was asleep and only when they were not at home.” I said.

“We learned how to do that before our first year though dad.” William said and then I felt the happiness drain from me.

“That is only because you had people teaching you. You had someone there to help you practice. You had someone to applaud for everything you had done. She didn’t get the opportunity to have that though.” Tom said. William put his head down slightly.

“Sorry, I do not want to cause any trouble.” I said and looked at my hands. Things around me started to shake a little and it had felt like everything around me was unstable. Stop thinking like this. It is going to become a problem. I tried to silence my mind and when I managed to do it everything around me stopped shaking.

“My-my you are quite powerful. Does that happen often?” I heard Tom ask.

“What do you mean?” I asked him a bit confused.

“Does that happen when you are upset? Do things seem to feel unstable and become rather shaky? That does not happen to everyone. Matter of fact I haven’t heard of that happening before now.” Uncle Tom said and My Aunt Amber just looked at me with her mouth slightly ajar.

“Yes. I have tried many times to control it. No one over there knows this stuff I don’t think. So, they would think it was an earthquake and I would just have to go with it and pretend it wasn’t me who created the problem. Of course, my father would know it was me and then some stuff would happen.” I said and returned my eyes to the table.

My aunt Amber clapped her hands, and all the food reappeared in front of us but on plates.

“Are you not hungry?” She asked me. I shook my head and just played with my hands under the table.

“I do want to let you know the school you are going to relies on magic. It is taught in every subject. You have a few professors who have offered to aid in getting you caught up and trained with the necessary spells. However, there is always a problem professor, and I must warn you he has offered to assist you because he thinks it is going to be a testimony to how great of a wizard he is.” Uncle Tom said and I felt myself smile.

“Really? Everything is just purely magic?” I asked.

“Absolutely.” He said and smiled.

“The teachers there are nice?” I asked.

“They are called professors here dear. For the most part the majority are. However, I will warn you that once again the teacher that is primarily going to be helping you is not the kindest. He has a permanent scowl on his face. There is also one other who is not a teacher but has taken a temporary leave from the ministry of magic to help you get caught up as well. I do apologize if it becomes overwhelming, but it is necessary for you to get every bit of knowledge. He added and I smiled.

“Oh, that is kind of that person. Are they kind? I haven’t been around nice people before.” I said.

“Kind is not the word we would use for him. He is a Slytherin. He feels very entitled. He also has an ego that is massive. He is also arrogant. I would never use the word kind in association with him. I barely like to use his name but, it is best you know it. His name is Lucius Malfoy. He is Draco Malfoy’s father and for you I would just address him by his last name.” He said and started to eat the food in front of him. This encouraged William and Amber to eat.

“When will I be going to this school?” I asked.

“We will be leaving here shortly to get you to the platform. William will be sure to get you to classes. That is until you are able to get to them on your own.” He said and I looked towards William, and he smiled.

“Thank you I really appreciate it.” I said. They all continued to eat but, I avoided it. I don’t want to upset my stomach. There was not much I could do about it anyway. My stomach doesn’t tolerate food that well anymore. I didn’t eat properly with my family. They had these wonderful meals that would smell amazing, but I was not invited to eat with them ever. At first it hurt my feelings but, after a while it was just normal for me. The only things I was fed were peanut butter and jelly sandwiches or dry bologna sandwiches. After a while I just didn’t want to eat anymore. I will be fine though. I think this is just nerves.

“Why not go and freshen up and afterwards we will get you over to the platform to get you into the school. You two will ride by train and then William will take you to Hogsmeade to get some last-minute books. What you are not able to find there the teachers who have offered to help will give you the rest.” Tom said and I smiled.

“Where is the?” I started to ask where the bathroom was but, was interrupted by Tom.

“It is the second door in the hallway. It is on the left.” He said and I gave him a small smile and walked down the hallway. I went into the bathroom and looked in the mirror. I look awful. No wonder they asked me to freshen up. I waved my hand in front of my face and my appearance returned to something that was better suited to be around people. I walked out of the bathroom and noticed everything was cleaned up again and put away. William was standing by the door and so were Tom and Amber.

“My, you look wonderful. Sorry, I hope it did not come off as rude to have you go and freshen up.” Tom and Amber said together.

“It was not rude. I just wanted to say thank you for telling me to freshen up. I was unaware that I looked like that.” I said and looked down.

“Come now. Let’s get you over to the platform.” Tom said.

[blitheringmcgonagall]

The Very End

31st July 1980

“He looks just like you, sweetie,” Lily said, beaming up at James with a look of pure joy.

James stared again – at Harry’s tiny hands, at his surprising amount of black hair, at the shape of his forehead, at his tiny, cute lips. He rubbed his wet cheeks with the back of his hand.

“He’s far cuter,” he sighed, placing his hands on either side of her shoulders, tenderly kissing the top of her head again, like he couldn’t quite believe she was safe.

“He’s gorgeous,” she whispered, holding Harry against her chest, still in a daze.

“I love you both so much, I can’t find enough words…” James said, as though annoyed at himself, and using the front of his T-shirt to wipe his eyes.

“You don’t need to, James,” Lily said.

It didn’t matter that she was more drained than she had ever felt in her life, that she felt worse than she did coming back from Order missions that went awry. Harry was the sweetest thing she had ever seen, and he was their baby. She hadn’t known it was possible to feel such overwhelming love for someone she had just met.

September 1981

“Prongs? Prongs! Pick up your mirror! It’s me. Fuck, Merlin, fuck! I can't... I don't… fuck!"

“Merlin, Pads, calm down! Are you alright? You look like shit. What happened?”

“I think Remus is the spy... fuck! Remus is the spy, I know he is!”

“Don’t be daft.”

“This isn’t a joke, Prongs!”

“Are you out of your mind, Sirius?”

“Don’t get angry, Prongs, I swear it’s the truth.”

“Don’t you dare accuse Moony of-“

“The only people who knew about the Prewetts’ mission were-“

“Fuck off, I’m not listening to your bullshit! Get some sleep, you look exhausted, old chap.”

“I swear to you-“

“And eat something, damn it! And apologise to Moony!”

October 1981

“Pettigrew, you are aware of the concept of a sell-by date?”

“My Lord?”

“Shall I spell it out for my Gryffindor spy? If fresh fruit isn’t consumed by a certain time, it rots and is thrown away.”

“M-my Lord?”

“Find me the Potters, or else!”

🎃🎃🎃🎃

“Prongs! Thank Merlin you picked up! I’m not risking using the mirrors again after today, they have spies everywhere, I feel like someone is watching us right now. I need to be quick!”

“Padfoot, I’m worried about you, you don't sound-“

“Listen to me! I’ve done more research on the Fidelius Charm. If I die, the protection dies with me. We need a back-up plan! They’ll come for me anyway, they’ll presume it’s me, and when they do-”

“Fucking bloody fucking -“

“Shut up and listen! And when they do, they won’t realise I wasn’t the Secret Keeper. You’ll still be safe, a double layer of protection. We need to swap. We need to make Peter the Secret Keeper!”

🎃🎃🎃🎃

“Sirius, we need to talk,” Remus said.

Sirius remained seated, his haunted eyes looking up at him devoid of happiness.

“Yes, we do,” he answered eventually, reluctantly.

“Sirius, I can’t keep doing this, sharing a flat with you knowing that you believe me to be a traitor, that I’m working for Voldemort,” Remus’ voice shook.

Sirius pressed his lips together tightly.

“What do you want me to do?” Sirius said after a long pause.

“I can’t live like this,” Remus said.

There were tears in his eyes and Sirius couldn’t stand it, couldn’t stand the part of him that longed to hold Remus tight and believe everything he said.

“What do you want me to do?” Sirius said.

“I… please, Sirius, you must know I would never,” Remus’ voice sounded like he was panicking.

He couldn’t keep doing this, throwing more and more complicated wards around the flat and then lying in bed wondering would Remus let Bellatrix in, or would he be found one day, murdered by his ex-lover in his sleep. It was slowly driving him insane.

“You’re right, we can’t live like this any longer,” Sirius said quietly, digging his nails into his hands to stop him falling apart.

“Sirius, please,” Remus said. “I can explain, I’m not supposed to, but I’ll tell you everything…”

Not so long ago he would have fallen for whatever falsehoods Remus told him, anything to persuade himself that Remus was on their side.

“Don’t bother!” he said, standing up, afraid to even let Remus start to speak, in case he fell for his elaborate stories.

Hadn’t they marvelled for years at how Remus always managed to get away with pranks, the only one never to get caught?

“I don’t want to hear your lies!” he said, trying desperately to keep his voice hard.

“Sirius, you’re not yourself,” Remus whispered.

His halting voice sounding kind, how could it sound so kind, despite Sirius’ words?

“Don’t!” Sirius couldn’t keep the panic out of his own tone. “Don’t try to manipulate me. Get out!”

Remus seemed stunned now. As though he genuinely hadn’t expected this. How?

Remus nodded dumbly and started walking slowly towards his room. Where was Remus going to go? He couldn’t afford to rent anywhere, would the bastard Death – Eaters give him a place to stay, a proper place, or shove him in some hovel and –

“Wait! I’m leaving,” he called out after Remus.

Remus turned around slowly, as though composing himself.

“Pardon?” he whispered.

“I’m going, I can’t stand this place since Prongs left, since Wormy left, it’s not home, I’ll find somewhere else,” he said, throwing on his leather jacket.

“Pardon? Pad- Sirius, I can’t stay here by myself, you know I can’t afford to pay for this,” Remus said, looking at him in utter confusion.

“I don’t want your money, Merlin, fuck!” Sirius said heatedly. “I just don’t want… just stay here… so Moody can keep an eye on you!”

“What will you…?” Remus still looked lost.

“I don’t give a flying fuck what happens to me, Remus,” Sirius said, striding towards James and Lily’s old room and throwing a few of his clothes haphazardly into his black backpack.

“Sirius! Where will you go?” Remus said, and he could see the concerned expression, the worried frown.

He had to get out or he would cave.

“It doesn’t concern you any longer, Lupin,” he said, his throat closing as he tried to speak.

He watched Remus swallow.

“I won’t stop fighting Voldemort or his men, you can tell them that,” he said. “My own miserable life may be falling apart, but I never deserved any better, and that doesn’t matter, not in the greater scheme of things. The show must go on.”

“Seren1,” Remus took one step forward, looking as though he might burst into tears.

“Fuck off, Lupin, leave me alone!” Sirius gasped, frightened at his own weakness, his lack of willpower.

31st October 1981

“Marvellous news, Wormtail,” Voldemort says, griping Peter’s shoulder and causing the small man to nearly faint with shock. “I haven’t felt this elated since I can’t remember when!”

Voldemort looks positively radiant, and Peter…

Keep reading

[bluebugsy]

We finally hit 100k words 🎉

Now we just have to get to the ending ☠️☠️☠️

[limoneroblossom]

Orión muere, Regulus tiene mommy issues y va a terapia.

Au dónde Walburga y Orión Black son abogados o algo así pero en sangre pura, super ricos y prestigiosos, feroces y algo a tener en cuenta, son padres presentes físicamente pero ausentes emocionalmente, comprando su amor con dinero. Se divorcian y Regulus elige quedarse con Walburga y Sirius se queda con Orión.

Orión muere y Sirius se marcha con los Potter.

Regulus es un adolescente con Mommy issues, que va a terapia y en algún momento se da cuenta que haga lo que haga no tendrá la atención de su madre.

A raiz de la muerte de su padre [A Regulus le trastorna que no le importe demasiado], la indiferencia de su madre y el abandono de su hermano Regulus tiene una colapso mental en su habitación y decide mandar todo a la mierda.

Dejará de superarse hasta la autodestrucción, se alejará de los grupos que cree que sus padres aprobarían (ahora solo su madre, Já) he intentará encontrarse más allá de las expectativas que se autoimpuso.

(Él es un adolescente de 15 sigue estando lejos de lo racional, déjalo lidiar con los problemas adolescentes comunes y mundanos)

[providing-leverage]

So uh. How does one go about getting a beta reader

[anachronistic-falsehood]

"i just feel so angry all the time" listen harry i genuinely can't remember if that's bc of some kind of mind control but i'm ninety-nine percent sure that can be explained by the fact that u r fifteen and have recently watched one of your friends die and ur school which is ur only safe place is falling apart around u and the man who killed your parents is still alive and kicking and u are being actively neglected by one of your most important mentor figures. honestly

[allofthelights11]

Memory Lane - complete

When I open my eyes, I’m in Hogwarts’ Great Hall. I’m not surprised by this and turn slowly in place to take in my surroundings. The details are perfect. Dolohov has hired fantastic designers. I don’t know who is doing the grunt work on these, but they’re excellent. What is ‘real’? I question myself, and then shut it down. It doesn’t matter. If it feels real, isn’t it real? What’s the difference to the mind? “Alright then,” I say with purpose. “Let me have a companion for the last one, yeah?” Dolohov’s eyes light up and I know I’ve done the right thing. “Anything you like. Who do you want?”

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

Voldemort wins AU. Remaining Resistance and Order fighters held captive for the amusement of the Dark regime, and Obliviated after every encounter.

Draco is inspired to save Hermione but takes a long and hard-earned redemption arc.

Dark but HEA, rape/non-con implied but not written (sexual violence is kept abstract). Mind the tags anyway. Explicit/NSFW.

Memory Lane

[anticomedygarden]

this is a character study of sirius black. this is taken directly from my main blog, but it's honestly written more like a fic so here you go

also i did a lily and snape one as well

-

so, first, we must agree: walburga hated sirius and vice versa. to walburga, sirius was a muggle lover and blood traitor. he was the son she couldn't control. to sirius, walburga was the mother he never wanted, and she certainly wasn't the mother he could make love him (even though she was his mother and therefore supposed to love him). so this makes death eaters, voldemort, and the rest of his backwards family the people she chose over him.

it doesn't matter how old one is, how terrible one's parents are, or how undeserving one thinks they are, rejection (read: hatred) from a parent hurts. it's traumatizing. it's awful and it impacts every aspect of a person's life. it affects their relationships with other people, it pits them against the rest of their family, and it makes everything that parent likes over them feel gross and evil.

at this point in his life (the hogwarts express), sirius has already figured out his family is evil and doesn't ever want to be like them. he can't imagine anyone ever choosing this life (his life).

enter snape. sirius knows nothing of his home life. snape knows nothing of his. all they know is that their own homes suck and that hogwarts is a potential permanent escape.

for sirius, hogwarts is friends. it's people who care about him, and not just his usefulness to the family. they care about him as a person, and none more so than the blood traitor and the half blood werewolf.

but then there's snape. who is in slytherin. who makes friends with the blacks and malfoys. who somehow gains their favor. the boy who sirius sees as lily's half blood friend with no reason to hate the muggle borns, is somehow becoming what his parents wanted him to be.

it's little things at first. a stinging jinx here, a color changing hex there. maybe some mundane little pranks. then, as snape reciprocates and becomes more ingratiated within slytherin, and thereby the blacks, it grows. it's no longer a small feeling of annoyance. now it's becoming hatred. it's becoming jealousy.

because why should his mother prefer this slimy, annoying little arse over him? what does snape have that sirius doesn't? why should snape want sirius' family, when sirius' family is one of the worst in the world? beyond that, why is snape so eager to join the group that's hurting people? hurting people snape grew up with? hurting lily? what does snape have against remus, the best, kindest person sirius knows? at this point, sirius can't find fault in his actions against snape when everything snape does is so clearly to gain favor with the people ruining sirius' life as well as his friends' lives.

i don't think sirius bullied snape because he thought snape was the weird kid or because it was easy or any of the typical reasons we here in anti bullying seminars in grade school. to me, sirius saw snape as everything he wasn't, but everything his mother wanted him to be. to sirius, snape was the death eaters. he was voldemort's youth campaign, he was what was manipulating his little brother, and he was everything his family believed in. this absolutely doesn't excuse bullying someone, but, as i've said before, snape gave as good as he got. (not to mention, snape went after remus, and he lashed out at other people that weren't even involved, like lily, harry, neville, hermione, ron, several other young kids, etc. that's also inexcusable.)

as for james, he would have done anything for his friends, even if that meant morally compromising himself to make sirius forget about his horrible mother. (which is also a problem - james' actions are less defendable than sirius', but at least he realized what he was doing was wrong. again, not excusing it, at all. i stand behind lily and her "arrogant toerag" comment in that moment, but not snape. never snape)

in conclusion, bullying is bad in any form, but reciprocity can be just as bad as instigation, and as i've said before, good characters are ambiguous, but in order to be ambiguous, they have to be morally grey. fucking no one is perfect.

[dramioneasks]

The Handkerchief - Gr8t_78 - E, 140 chapters, Words: 400,277 - **this work is entirely canon compliant** The years at Hogwarts were a trying time for Harry Potter, but he was not the only wizard to experience trials and tribulations over those years. Draco Malfoy, pureblood and heir to two Noble and Ancient Houses within the Sacred 28, finds himself in a secret relationship with a muggle born witch. If his father or his fellow Slytherins found out, he's certain things won't end well for either of them. But his draw to this witch is too great. Following the perspective of Draco beginning in the first year, we see all of the things that Harry missed over the years, namely that his best friend was secretly dating his rival the entire time. How will it all end?

[styxhuntress]

Fanfic Idea #2

Rewriting scenes and creating new ones from Harry Potter (or any fandom since it’s universally compatible), but from other characters’ P.O.V.s while keeping them in character and not diverging or contradicting what’s canon.

Examples:

The night Harry’s Parents died from either Lily’s or Voldemort’s POV.

Oliver Wood’s reaction to McGonagall putting Harry on the Team and then their first practice. 

Or Ginny P.O.V. during the Chamber of Secrets. 

Or Sirius and/or Remus P.O.V. during the Prisoner of Azkaban. Or Even Peter Pettigrew’s reaction to Sirius escaping.

Cedric Diggory’s P.O.V. During the Goblet of Fire, 

Draco’s during the Half-Blood Prince, 

Dumbledore during the Order of the Phoenix, 

Voldemort’s during the Deathly Hallows or honestly any of the books/movies. 

Or even scenes with these characters that take place during or even before the books/movies that are never referenced in the books/movies because it’s not Harry’s P.O.V.

And this type of prompt is compatible with any fandom. Which makes it more awesome.