#who do you guys think made the voldemort doodles?

[cerealbishh]

"We're in the exact same place we were before..."

"We are in such a different place. We're communicating, we're- we're listening to each other... We're gonna figure it out, together."

[omgrachwrites]

Falling Stars (Sequel to Tell A Tale of You and Me) Chapter Two

Pairing: Dean Thomas x Reader

Summary: In the midst of a brewing war you fall for one of your classmates, a boy that you used to know. When you have the chance to fight against evil, you fight for what you believe in.

Chapter Summary: Tensions rise between Umbridge and Harry, forcing Dean and Cass to be civil with one another. Meanwhile, competition arises on the Quidditch pitch.

Warnings: fluff, angst, mentions of death, swearing, sassy Harry

Words: 2645

Disclaimer: I haven’t read The Order of The Phoenix in so long so the timeline might be out of wack!

A/N: I hope you guys enjoy this part, please let me know what you think and if you would like to be tagged! I love you all! xxx

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Chapter Two - The Pink Toad

Dean woke up, shivering slightly in the drafty dormitories – with all the magic in Hogwarts he thought someone would have taken the initiative to make the castle warmer. He was in a bad mood already and for a moment he couldn’t think why and then, it hit him like a ton of bricks. The 5th year Gryffindors and Slytherins were going to be having their first lesson with Umbridge in Defence Against the Dark Arts. To hear other people talk about it, it seemed like she didn’t know what she was doing, they said that she should have stayed at the Ministry.

He mulled over his thoughts as he walked over to the window and watched the quiet grounds begin to stir beneath the glow of the rising sun. Dean couldn’t deal with another shit Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor. Dumbledore should have brought Lupin back – even if he was a werewolf – he had been the best Professor they’d ever had.

Though, it wasn’t all that bad, today Quidditch try outs were taking place tonight, he had wanted to try out for the team last year but all of the matches had been cancelled due to the Triwizard Tournament. He was itching to climb onto his broom and zip through the late summer air. Once Seamus was awake – he didn’t say a word to Dean, Seamus was the worst person ever in the morning – they both got dressed and made their way to The Great Hall. Dean’s insides were already aching with hunger.

Dean perked up even more when he smelled all the amazing breakfast food and he sat by Fred and George Weasley, piling toast and bacon onto his plate.

“You trying out for the team then, Thomas?” Fred asked – or it might have been George – the twins both had identical smirks on their faces. The Weasley twins had been on the Quidditch team since Dean’s first year, they were extraordinary beaters.

“Of course,” Dean grinned, feeling excitement course through his body, “tonight’s try outs are going to be a blast!”

“You guys haven’t heard?” Dean looked around at the sound of a voice and his heart dropped when he saw Harry nervously running his fingers through his hair, “the Slytherins must have gotten wind of our try outs tonight because they booked the pitch before Angelina had the chance. Our try outs have been pushed to Saturday,” he scowled.

“What?” the four boys gasped in horror and Dean looked over at the Slytherin table.

Cass was laughing with her friends as she raised a mug to her lips; her eyes flickered over to Dean for a moment before she looked back at her friends. She looked radiant and beautiful, like she didn’t have a care in the world and that pissed Dean off, he turned back to his friends with a frown.

“I bet that Cass had something to do with this, this is so like her,” he moodily stabbed at his food.

Seamus rolled his eyes as he shoved a piece of bacon into his mouth, “mate,” he started with his voice muffled, “you say that you don’t give a shit about her but, Merlin, I think you’re obsessed. Not everything that happens is her fault.”

In the back of Dean’s mind he knew himself that Seamus was right and it had probably had nothing to do with Cass. However, he was still so annoyed with her that he wouldn’t even entertain that idea.

On their way to class, Dean’s eyes impatiently searched through the sea of people in the corridor, “this isn’t a good idea mate,” Seamus scoffed.

“Please, just give us a second, yeah?” he offered his best mate a smile before going back to the task at hand and he spotted Cass as she was about to walk into class.

“Oi, Cass!” he called out to her, making her stop in her track and she gave him a surprised look as he caught up with her, “why would your team book the damn pitch for tonight? We were supposed to have our try outs.”

Cass rolled her eyes and Dean noticed the glimmer of disappointment in them and he almost felt guilty, “do I look like the team captain? Everything that goes wrong in your life isn’t my fault you know,” she hissed before storming into the classroom.

“Told ya,” Seamus snickered.

Umbridge hadn’t come down from her office yet so Dean contented himself with doodling a lion devouring a snake while Lavender and Parvati made a bird out of paper and had charmed it to soar through the air. As it flew over to Dean and Seamus, Dean laughed, “go on, Seamus. Hit it!” he goaded his best friend and Seamus landed a successful hit, blowing it off course. In the next second, it burst into flames making the class jump.

Dean scowled as a toad like woman stood at the front of the class wearing the ugliest shade of pink ever seen. He wrinkled his nose in disgust as a sickly sweet perfume smell wafted towards him. Umbridge started like all the other teaches had by explaining the importance of OWLS, before she handed out a beginners handbook.

“Your introduction to this subject has been uneven, probably due to the fact that you’ve had half breeds teaching you and whatnot,” there was mirth in her voice and it annoyed Dean massively.

“If you must know, Professor Lupin was the best teacher we’ve ever had. So what if he’s a werewolf?” most of the class murmured in agreement and Dean clenched his teeth in anger as Umbridge gave him a sweet smile.

“That will be five points from Gryffindor, Mr Thomas,” she let out a high pitched laugh that went right through Dean.

“Dean is right though! How is it Remus’ fault that he got bitten? He didn’t ask for that to happen! It shouldn’t make it impossible for him to get a job, he’s not dangerous,” Cass piped up.

Dean whirled around to look at her; her usually warm eyes were hard as she stared at Umbridge with a furious expression. Dean agreed with Cass though he hated to admit it and would never say it out loud. Cass made eye contact with Dean and her eyes softened as she smiled at him gratefully. Dean gulped and looked away.

Umbridge smirked as her nostrils flared but she didn’t tell Cass off. Instead, she smiled at a couple of people on the front row who had got their wands out, “oh, you can put those away, my dears.”

“We’re not going to be using magic?” Ron mumbled, his voice held all of the confusion that everyone else was feeling.

“Why on earth would you need to use magic dear?” she let out another annoying high pitched laugh.

“Oh, of course,” Harry gasped as he slapped a hand against his forehead, “because when Voldemort comes after all of us, the last thing we’ll need to know is defensive magic, dear me, the thought of it. Ron, how could you ask such a silly question?” sarcasm laced Harry’s voice, making Dean smirk to himself as everyone waited for Umbridge’s response with baited breath.

Umbridge barely flinched at the use of You-Know-Who’s real name and her sickly sweet smile almost faltered, “you and your tall tales, Mr Potter. The Ministry would be protecting everyone if the Dark Lord was back.”

Dean glanced over at Harry when he let out a scoff to see that Harry had his hands on the table, clenching his fists, “so, Cedric Diggory spontaneously combusted did he?” Harry’s tone was dry as he glared at Umbridge, “Voldemort killed him! And you’re an idiot for not admitting it!”

Someone near the back of the room gasped at Harry’s words and everyone got ready to watch Umbridge murder Harry. Umbridge’s face was drained of colour as she scrawled on a piece of parchment and simply said in a steady voice, “come here, Mr Potter,” when Harry stormed up to her desk, she gave him the parchment, “take this to Professor McGonagall, off you go dear,” Harry scoffed as he snatched it off her and stormed out of the room, not looking back.

The rest of the lesson continued in silence, nobody dared to speak to one another. At the end of the class, Cass caught up with Dean, “intense huh?”

Dean was still reeling from the shock of Harry’s words that he momentarily forgot the bitterness he had towards her, “yeah,” he laughed, scuffing his shoe against the floor.

“It was nice of you to speak up for Remus,” she smiled, leaning against the cold stone wall.

Dean shrugged nonchalantly as his cheeks grew hot and he tried to ignore the peaceful feeling in his chest, “thought it was only fair to defend the guy when he wasn’t there to defend himself,” he cleared his throat, “it was good of you to speak up for him too.”

“I would do anything and say anything for the people that I care about,” she looked up at him from beneath her eyelashes as she bit her lower lip and Dean swallowed nervously, “I thought you would know that by now,” she gave him a small smile and pushed off from the wall, “see you around,” she nodded at him and then she was off, walking down the corridor with Astoria.

“So, the both of you can have a civil conversation without biting each other’s head off,” Seamus smirked.

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As you stood with your back against the Quidditch stands you shivered in the freezing evening air as you watched the try outs, waiting for your turn to try out for the position of Keeper. Your teeth chattered as you stuck your hands in the inside of your coat and pulled the letter from your dad out of the inside pocket. You smiled down at the piece of parchment as you read over the words again in the perfect script. He was wishing you luck at the try outs, he knew how important Quidditch was to you.

All you wanted to do was make him proud, you knew that Harry made him proud but Harry had that effect on the adults in his life who loved him. It seemed so easy for him, he was a hero. You just wanted to make Sirius proud of who you were. Your breath came out as smoke as you watched your housemates zip through the sky in all directions. All you wanted to do was zip through the sky with them; hopefully it would warm you up. It was strange that Draco wasn’t trying out this year; he loved a bit of attention.

You jumped slightly as you felt warmth against your elbow and you glanced to the side to see Astoria holding a steaming cup of something hot, “this is for you, you look freezing,” she laughed as she passed you the cup.

You grinned at her as you lifted the cup to your lips and swallowed down the hot chocolate, humming at the thickness of it, it burned your tongue slightly but you didn’t care all that much, you were just thankful for the heat, “thank you so much,” you licked your lips as the hot drink warmed your insides, “what are you doing here? You hate Quidditch,” you narrowed your eyes as you realised just why she was here, “Draco’s not playing this year, sorry to disappoint you,” you laughed as she rolled her eyes.

“I’m not here for him Cass, I’m here for you. I know that I hate Quidditch, just don’t see the point of it all but I know how much you love it and you’re my best friend, so I came here to support you.”

Astoria’s words were so sweet and kind that you threw your arms around her in a tight hug, “I love you, you’re amazing. You know that?”

“Of course I know that,” she laughed, winking at you as she linked your arm through yours and leaned her head on your shoulder, “uh oh, incoming.”

You bit your lip as Dean, Harry, Seamus and Ron were coming out of the castle heading for the stands behind you. It seemed as though Harry and Seamus had put aside their rivalry in the name of Quidditch, the thought made you roll your eyes. What were they doing here? Were they here to sabotage you?

“What the hell are you guys doing here?” you turned around to face the Gryffindor boys, shouting against the howling wind.

Dean smirked, just enough for his dimples to be on display and even from here you could see his eyes flash with an emotion that you didn’t recognise, “I’ve missed out on Quidditch for the past two years, I’m not waiting till Saturday to be able to watch some! It’s got nothing to do with you,” he raised an eyebrow at you as he slouched against his chair, making you scowl at him.

Harry laughed as he shot you a smile, “and we wanted to see what form your players were on!” he would never tell you outright but you knew he was here to offer you some support and you appreciated it. You shook your head at the boys before turning back to watch the try outs, painfully aware of their eyes on you.

Finally, the captain looked at you, “Cass? C’mon, let’s go!” Astoria gave you a supportive smile and a pat on your shoulder as you walked onto the pitch, mounting your broom as you soared through the air to guard the hoops.

The first couple of throws the captain directed at you were easy saves; there wasn’t much spin on the Quaffle so you could have saved it with your eyes closed. However, every time you made a mediocre save, you could hear Astoria screaming as if you had made an amazing save and it made you laugh, she really didn’t understand Quidditch. You didn’t feel the cold anymore; the adrenaline you felt made it all go away

“C’mon! Give me a challenge!” you shouted to the troll like boy who was hovering on his broom, holding the Quaffle, he smirked at you as he sent the ball hard and fast with a lot of spin on it.

You kicked, caught and booted the ball with the end of your broomstick, sending it back to him and every time he caught it with a taken aback look on his face. There was a save that you almost didn’t make, it was too far off to the side but you caught it between the tips of your fingers. You heard the small crowd below you gasp and you glanced down to see Dean looked impressed – though he would never admit it – it only made him more handsome.

By the end of try outs, it was no question that you had been the best Keeper, and you were looking forward to practise the following week. As you walked towards Astoria she grinned at you, throwing an arm around your shoulders, “that was amazing! I can’t believe that you’re my best friend.”

You rolled your eyes at her words but you couldn’t help but smile a little, as you walked back into the castle together, desperate to get out of the cold night air, “oi, Cass!” you whipped around as you heard Dean calling after you.

Astoria gasped a little in delight as Dean jogged towards you, a competitive glint in his eye, “Gryffindor are going to kick your arse in the first match,” you laughed and it felt like things were better between you and Dean.

However, as the rest of the boys ran up to you, Dean’s expression dropped and his eyes went hard and cold again. It was obvious that apart from the competitive banter, nothing had changed.

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

@approved-by-dentists @thefuturelawyer @a-miserable-hufflepunk @firelordmillie @seriouslysiriuss @sleep-i-ness @play-morezeppelin @pregnant-piggy @sleepingalaska @blisfvlll @rexorangecouny @findzelda @wangmangagavroche @hxrgreeves @ghostofstudentspast @they-write-once-in-a-blue-moon @my-unique-mind @im-an-angel-of-the-lord-you-ass @kashishwrites @fific7 @blackbirddaredevil23 @siriusblackspam @mads-bri​ @lilulo-12fanfiction​ @ihavenotthepleasure​ @tinymalscoffee​ @ur-riddikulus​ @obsssedwithjustaboutanything​ @ourloveisforthelovely​ @wheezyreads​ @artemis1orion​ @sushiims​ @aspiringsloth20​ @queenl04​ @smiithys​ @elayneblack​ @amelie-black​

[drarry-fanfiction7]

True Love Touch - Part 2

Summary: “The curse was quite forward in its intent, Harry had to give it credit for that, not that it was a particularly good thing. Truly a great thing to be cursed with if one was painfully single and painfully not in love with anyone.”

Or, the one where Harry is cursed with a love spell and Draco doesn’t get any sleep.

Part 1

Words: 3.7k

(can also be read on my ao3 @/invisible_slytherin)

__________________________________

Hermione had her head buried in a book, five more scattered around her. Her fingers were stained with ink and her hair was messier than usual. A frown was on her face, but she resolutely didn't look up; not when a few second years started playing Exploding Snap, not when Seamus started telling a story in a loud tone, not when a few fourth years started giggling as they gossiped on the couch.

Ron was next to her, head resting on an open book and some drool starting to pool at the corner of his mouth. He didn't look like he would be waking up anytime soon.

The three of them had been sitting at the table since Ron and Hermione had come up from dinner, reading books and parchments, taking notes and coming up with theories. Now, it was dark outside and most people had already climbed the stairs to the dorms.

They weren't any closer to finding anything.

"Maybe we should get some sleep," Harry said, thumbing over the words 'old curse' on the book he had been trying to pay attention to.

"No, we should keep going for a little longer. We haven't found anything concrete yet."

"Hermione, we're all tired. We won't find anything in this state."

She sighed tiredly. Her elbows came up to rest on the table and she buried her face in her hands.

"We'll find something soon enough," he tried to reassure her as much as he tried to reassure himself.

"We will." Her voice wasn't quite sure and there was doubt in her eyes, but, tonight, her words were enough for Harry.

She reached out, hand outstretched to pat his, and the two of them froze. Her hand stopped midair and he retreated his own slowly from the table, placing it on his lap.

"I'm sorry," she started.

"Don't worry about it. I forget too."

She smiled at him, a small smile that was more concerned than reassuring. Then, she closed her book, golden letters spelling 'Love Spells' shinning in the dim light of the common room.

"Let's go to sleep. We'll pick this up again tomorrow."

Harry watched as she woke up Ron. She put a hand on his hair and run it through it slowly, her thumb catching on his forehead sometimes. She leaned down to whisper in his ear when he groaned sleepily and patted his back softly before stretching up again.

"Goodnight, Harry," she said, putting all her books and parchments in a neat pile at the end of the table.

Harry nodded at her and sent a smile her way, meaning to reassure her that he was alright and would be alright.

Ron was rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hands, yawning as he pushed the book he had been sleeping on to the centre of the table.

"I can't even look at words anymore," he mumbled.

Harry laughed and almost reached out to clap him over the shoulder, the reality of his situation hit him before he could.

"I'm going to bed." Ron got up from his seat. "You coming?"

"In a bit."

Ron grinned at him and didn't bother with closing the book before climbing the stairs to the dorm.

Harry still had his book in front of him, he pretended to scan the pages and take notes while he waited for the common room to empty. When there were only three fifth-years standing there, he closed the book and discarded the parchment full of the useless doodles he had made to pass time and went upstairs.

The dorm was quiet apart from the usual snores of the guys he shared with. Seamus was the loudest, but Ron was close on his heels. Dean shifted on his bed, turning to face the door as Harry entered and he stopped in his tracks as not to wake anyone. He tiptoed to his bed, opening the trucks and getting his invisibility cloak and the Marauder's Map from it.

Then, in the same careful manner as he had come in, he left the room again.

He shoved the map in his pocket and the cloak underneath his jumper and descended the stairs to the common room again. The fifth years were still sitting on the couch when he came down again and they looked up at him as he appeared.

"I thought you had gone to sleep," one of them said.

"Nah," Harry chuckled. "I actually think I'm going to get something from the kitchens. I'm really fancying a late-night snack, right now."

The three of them stared at him curiously and Harry knew that now it wasn't just because he was Harry Potter who had defeated Voldemort, now it was also because he had been skipping class and not going down to the Great Hall in over a week.

Harry ignored their looks and left the common room.

***

The kitchens were warmer than the rest of the castle. The heat a welcomed change from the shivering cool of the corridors as Harry entered. House-elves were fusing about, doing Harry wasn't even sure what. Some stopped to stare at him as they noticed his entrance.

"Harry Potter," one of them said, bowing down so low he almost kissed his own feet.

"I was wondering if you had any snacks I could have?" He asked awkwardly.

"Of course, Harry Potter. Anything Harry Potter wants," another one said excitedly, his pointy ears fluttering.

Harry smiled at them, hand raising to rub the back of his neck. This was too much attention.

He hadn't come to the kitchens this year yet. He had known that the elves were probably going to throw a figurative party around him if he appeared, but thinking they were going to it hadn't exactly prepared him for all the attention he was receiving.

One of the elves gestured for Harry to follow her and led him to an adjacent room. One with a table, snacks and a blond boy sitting on one of the chairs.

Malfoy raised his eyes from his cup of steaming liquid and stared at them as they entered. He sighed when he looked at Harry as if it annoyed him to look at him.

"So we meet again in the middle of the night, Potter," Malfoy said. "Cheers to being insomniacs."

"Then it's not just wanting to be alone." Harry pulled back one of the chairs to sit, his back protesting as he rested it against the chair.

Malfoy rolled his eyes.

"Wasn't about to spill everything to you the first time we saw each other, was I?"

"Is it more acceptable to spill everything on the second time then?"

"My insomnia is hardly new, Potter. Anyone with a brain could conjure that I probably don't have the best sleeping schedule. No one does really."

"Yeah, well, we all saw some pretty messed up things over the last years."

"That we did," Malfoy looked at him.

He blew on his cup to cool down whatever it was that he was drinking and took a sip, a small brown drop catching on his top lip.

"Drinking coffee seems hardly like a solution to your problem, Malfoy."

Malfoy stared at him with a contemplative expression. Eyes fixed on Harry as he grabbed a napkin and dabbed at his mouth.

"It's not about falling asleep, Potter. It's about staying awake."

"Why are you always so cryptic?"

Malfoy shrugged. "It's part of my charm."

"I wouldn't exactly call it charm, but whatever you want, Malfoy."

Malfoy rolled his eyes at him, but he didn't seem to mind the conversation and the remarks. He seemed to be having fun with it if the small upward curve of his lips was anything to go by.

They stayed in silence for a while, Malfoy sipping his coffee and Harry reaching out to grab a few snacks from the middle of the table, mindful of his bruises.

It felt surreal to be sharing late-night snacks with Malfoy in the kitchens while having a civilized, albeit slightly strained, conversation with him. They were so different, had always been, and they had never managed to get along. But now, sitting in front of Malfoy with snacks in front of them, seeing Malfoy sip his coffee because he didn't want to sleep and having an actual conversation with him, it seemed like they were two different people entirely. Two different people who hadn't had a rivalry and a war between them, two different people who could actually get along.

"Isn't it weird?" He ended up asking.

"Your inability to be eloquent? Yes, Potter, it is quite weird, you should fix it."

"Asshole," Harry rolled his eyes amused. "I meant the two of us, here in the middle of the night, talking as if we're friends."

"Friends isn't the word I would use."

And of course, Harry wouldn't call them friends either, he just meant that they were being more friendly toward each other than they had ever been before.

"You know what I mean."

"Yes, I do know." He sipped his coffee again, making Harry wait for an answer. "I think we both grew up, wouldn't you say."

"A bit hard not to."

"Indeed. We grew up, we learned that school rivalries are nothing when there are things that are so much bigger and dangerous. And after being involved in those things, school rivalries sound quite silly."

Harry didn't answer. Malfoy was right, they had had to grow up when faced with Voldemort, war, losing loved ones and seeing everything they had known crumble around them. They had been in opposites sides, but there were things that were universal. The suffering and fear were two of them.

"For what it's worth, I don't exactly hate you," Harry decided to say.

Malfoy chuckled, shaking his head and putting down his now empty cup.

"You're not so bad yourself, Potter."

And that had to be some high praise coming from Malfoy. More than Harry ever thought he would get from him, more than he ever thought he wanted to hear from him. Strangely, it didn't feel entirely weird to hear it, it felt heartwarming. It made leaving the past behind feel solid between them.

The silence that followed wasn't as harsh as the others had been. This one felt lighter, felt like it was there simply because they didn't know each other enough to break it and not because they weren't supposed to be talking to each other. This was the kind of silence Harry didn't mind having with Malfoy.

"Potter," he called. "Did you hit your shoulder?"

Harry furrowed his eyebrows at the question. Then, Malfoy pointed at his right shoulder and Harry twisted his head to look. Despite the angle, it was impossible not to notice the dark purple bruise that marked the skin there. Neville had pulled him back when they were leaving the dorm the day before to go into the common room and the bruise had appeared right away.

Harry considered telling him again. He didn't know why but he felt compelled to just talk about it, tell someone that didn't know already. Or maybe it was just Malfoy who was looking at him with curiosity in his eyes and tousled hair, drinking coffee in the kitchens in the middle of the night because he has insomnia and doesn't want to go to sleep. Maybe it was just him that Harry wanted to talk to.

"I-" he hesitated. "Yeah, I jammed it against the door."

"How clumsy of you, Potter," he said.

He seemed a little suspicious, but not enough to question him.

"And you're still not going to class either." Definitely suspicious then.

"It's complicated."

"Clearly."

Harry knew that Malfoy wasn't about to outright ask him what was going on, as suspicious as he was that something weird must be happening. He would wait for Harry to talk, would say things to prompt any confessions that Harry wanted to make, but not demand anything.

"I better go back to the dungeons," Malfoy said, getting up from his chair.

He was elegant about it. He dabbed at his already clean lips with the napkin in front of him, pushed the chair back without making any noise and got up with a straight back.

"I'll see you at some point, Potter."

"You will."

***

The next time he saw Malfoy was actually in daylight, for once. It was Saturday afternoon and the sun was bright despite the cold outside. Most people were either outside enjoying the cool sunshine or at Hogsmeade. Because of that, Harry had deemed it safe enough to leave the tower for once and go to the library, figuring that no one would try to touch him there.

Ron and Hermione had gone on a date. Well, they hadn't wanted to call it a date to Harry's face since Hermione seemed convinced that going on a date when they could be helping with research was quite selfish. Harry was just glad that Ron had managed to convince her that they would be able to help much more if they took some time to unwind and that going to Hogsmeade was a great way to unwind. It's not like one afternoon would lower their chances of finding anything to help Harry by much if anything.

Now, Harry was sitting alone at one of the tables. He had made the effort to grab some books about curses, had even brought some of the ones McGonaggal had provided them, but he wasn't exactly paying attention to them. He could see a Ravenclaw boy flying about in the courtyard through one of the windows and he could only feel strong envy towards him. This damn curse had taken his freedom, Hogwarts, the ability to be with his friends normally and quidditch from him. He wanted all of it back.

"Why are you in the library on this fine Saturday afternoon, Potter?"

He tore his gaze away from the window and found Malfoy on the other side of the table, three books in his hands, looking down at him.

"I'm studying."

Malfoy raised an unimpressed eyebrow and looked down at the books Harry had displayed in front of him. That was when Harry realized his mistake. None of the books was about things that were in the curriculum.

"Studying for what exactly?"

"Knowledge. I was just interested."

"I'm sure you were."

If Malfoy had been suspicious before, he was more than suspicious now. He was sure that something was going on with Harry that was making him skip classes and meals in the Great Hall and that might be related to his bruises.

Malfoy's books fell to the table with a dull sound and Harry buried his face in his crossed arms when he grabbed one of the books Harry had been reading. He didn't lift his head to see Malfoy's expression as he read the title or as he thumbed through the pages.

"Not the kind of topic I would expect you to be interested in," was the first time he said.

He was still not going to ask for answers and Harry wanted to shake him and make him demand them, that way he would have a better excuse to spill everything than just his crazy want to do it.

"People can surprise you," he said weekly, raising his head.

Malfoy's eyes were narrowed. He still had the book in his hands, eyes switching between reading some passages and staring at Harry. His expression getting increasingly more resolute as his eyes did that dance.

He closed the book and put it down on the table. Harry thought he was going to leave and not say anything about it anymore. He didn't know if he wanted that to happen or not. On the one hand, it would mean that he wouldn't feel the pressure of Malfoy's eyes anymore and would be able to relax again and go back to pretending like he was reading anything. But then he knew that if he was ever alone with Malfoy again, he would still want to tell him about all of it.

But Malfoy didn't leave. He pulled out a chair and sat in front of Harry, staring at him in silence for a while before leaning over the table and meeting Harry's eyes without much effort.

"What's going on, Potter?"

There it was. The question Harry had been waiting for to tell Malfoy everything. He wanted to tell him everything and he couldn't even fully comprehend why himself.

"I think you already know," he settled for saying.

"I'd still like for you to tell me."

Harry licked his lips and avoided Malfoy's eyes.

"I've been cursed."

Malfoy nodded and waited for him to continue talking.

"Madam Pomfrey and the professors think it was the last time we went to Hogsmeade. They don't think any student could have been so successful at a powerful dark curse."

"And what exactly is this dark curse?"

Harry opened his mouth but opted for showing him instead of just telling him. In for a little, in for a lot. He sighed and pulled his sleeves up, exposing the black and blue bruises that were littering his arm, from wrist to elbow and disappearing beneath the bundled up sleeve at his bicep. The bruises from his last days of classes hadn't faded yet and, even while being so careful, there were some new ones.

"Merlin, Potter, what the hell is that curse?"

Malfoy looked positively paler than he had always been. Eyebrows pinched together and lips parted in surprise. He reached a hand as if to touch and Harry flinched so violently that it startled the two of them.

"It happens when someone touches me," he rushed out to justify. "The curse… it basically makes bruises appear when anyone who isn't my true love touches me. True Love Touch was what they called it."

Malfoy retreated his hand, that had been hanging in the air until now, and cradled it to his chest as if he had been the one about to be bruised.

"That's why you haven't been going to class," he wasn't asking, he was weaving the threads together in his head and understanding what was happening with Harry.

"I've been staying confined to the tower. It's easier to avoid any contact, accidental or not, with people that way."

"Trouble really likes you, doesn't it?"

And that joking tone was so far from what Harry had ever expected from Malfoy, it almost seemed like he had imagined it. Harry had never heard that tone coming from Malfoy, much less aimed at him.

"I wish it didn't," he ended up saying.

"I don't think you would know how to deal with a normal life."

It was probably true. Harry was so used to having a target on his back, to researching all sorts of things - though Hermione did most of that part - and constantly looking behind his back as if he was going to be attacked at every second, that he most likely would be very put off by a 'normal' year.

Still, it would have been nice to be bored and spend some time with his friends without being cursed and consequentially being locked up in a tower as if he were a damsel in distress.

"Would you like to trade? I'd rather like a normal life."

Malfoy's face closed off, the playful expression fading into a cold one that left Harry feeling lost and strangely resentful.

"My life is far from normal, Potter," Malfoy's voice sounded like it did years ago, before their late-night conversations and weird understanding of each other.

Harry wasn't sure how what he had said that had made the mood sour so quickly, but he wanted to not have said it. He wanted Malfoy to have that open, amused expression on his face again, he wanted him to keep talking to Harry and let him talk to him.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't want to offend you."

Malfoy looked up at him, eyes narrowing as he took on Harry's face and tried to read him. Harry was sure that it wouldn't be too hard, he was terrible at concealing how he felt, after all.

"You don't understand, do you?"

"Understand what?"

"Why my life isn't the so-called normal."

"I-"

"I'm a Death Eater, Potter. My whole family is. I used to walk on money and leave proud footsteps behind me, but that doesn't happen anymore. Now, I try to hide in the shadows as much as possible and I don't want anyone to even look at me. I don't like it when people look at me for I know that there's nothing good going through their heads."

Harry hadn't considered it. He guessed that one of the things that came with being so involved in one side of the war, was how it made it hard to see the other side as anything other than the enemy. It made it hard to think that things could be not as black and white as they seem and that people who were on the other side also suffered, kept suffering after the war.

And some of them did deserve, Harry could be a good person and still think that. But there were people who maybe were victims too, Harry sometimes failed to see that. Which did not mean that Malfoy didn't deserve some backlash for what he had done during the war. He might be only eighteen, but he still made some decisions and did certain things that couldn't be overlooked.

"I didn't think of that…"

"I know," Malfoy said.

He pulled back his chair and got up, grabbing his books and leaving Harry's on the table. Before he left, he turned around and gave Harry a small, closed-off smile.

"Good luck with your curse, Potter."

He wasn't mad and that was a relief for Harry who found himself enjoying his conversations with Malfoy more and more.

"I'll need it," he said and watched as Malfoy left the library.

____________________________

Part 3

Masterlist

[homenum-revelio-hq]

Welcome (again) to the Order of the Phoenix, Bee!

You have been accepted for the role of ISLA SELWYN-MACMILLAN, with the requested faceclaim change to Adelaide Kane! We particularly enjoyed the discussion of Isla’s reasoning to join the Order, as well as the conflict with people not trusting her because of who she is. We think she’ll be an excellent addition to the cast! 

Please take a look at the new member checklist and send in your account within 24 hours! Thank you for joining the fight against Voldemort!

OUT OF CHARACTER:

NAME: Bee

AGE: 21

TIMEZONE: EST

ACTIVITY LEVEL: I’m a college student, so my activity tends to revolve around my schedule, though I tend to be online at some point every day (unless there’s a big paper to write or a project or a test or something the next day, in which case maybe not… but still probably because I am a disaster). If I had to give it a number? 7.5, 8.

ANYTHING ELSE: OOPS HI LOVELY ADMINS

CHARACTER DETAILS:

NAME: Isla Evelyn Selwyn-MacMillan

AGE: 25

GENDER, PRONOUNS, and SEXUALITY: Cis Female, She/Her, Sexuality was a weird thing for Isla- she was never entirely certain as to how to define it, or what made sense to her. Yeah, sure, guys were good, she guessed. Girls were nice too. Either or, both, sure.. But it was never really important. At least, not the sex part- not to her. She could take it or leave it. Sometimes it was nice, but most of the time she could live without. What she couldn’t live without was some sort of emotional connection. She needed someone to care about, and who cared about her- that was always what mattered most to her. In terms of labeling, she’s probably demisexual and gray ace.

BLOOD STATUS: Pureblood

HOUSE ALUMNI: Gryffindor

ANY CHANGES: I’m 100% okay with Ernie being Archie and Isla’s kid. I actually kind of love how complicated it makes their little, odd family’s life. As for faceclaims,would it be okay if I used Adelaide Kane? If not, Melisa Pamuk is perfect <3  

CHARACTER BACKGROUND:

PERSONALITY:

Isla falls into a sort of gray area when it comes to personality. She is a messy conglomeration of the things that she needed to be for her family as well as the things she wanted to be for herself- therefore, it really depends on which Isla you know. She can be vibrant and exuberant, a free spirit who loves to run wild, who loves to do things that make her happy. She can be wildly fierce, especially when it comes to taking care of people and standing up for what she believes in. She can be a whirlwind of passion and fire. She’s warmhearted, treating friends more like family and strangers like friends.

But there’s also the uncertainty of who she’s supposed to be. The feeling of being lost in who she wants to be and who she’s had to become in order to hold on to the people she cares about, to protect the people she cares about, to protect herself. It’s like living a masquerade every day of her life. Pretending and lying, giving up the things that she was so passionate about, it’s deteriorated her spirit a little bit. But the Order has given her a little bit of that fire back. She has a cause to fight- she fights for the person she once was, the person she’s lost. She fights against the stupid, archaic world that the Death Eaters and Voldemort are creating. It helps her hold onto the scraps of herself that she knew. It’s like looking into a crystal ball and seeing who you were, but not seeing any path as to who you’re supposed to be now that the chips are down and you’ve found yourself in your current situation.

BRIEF OVERVIEW OF FAMILY:

Isla has never really known where she fit in with her family. There’s a family portrait that hangs in her family home’s parlor that was done when she was about four. Her mother and father looked like the regal couple they’d always been, standing behind their four children, elegantly dressed, her mother dazzling with the diamond necklace that twinkled upon her neck, her father with a stern sort of half smile underneath his mustache. Her older sister, Maeve, sat on a fainting couch with herself and their little brother, Grant, just in front of them. All three of them in pristine, mint condition. Long, dark curls on Isla and Maeve, half tied up in white bows. Little Grant in a suit, his hair slicked back with what had to be gallons of Sleekeazy’s Hair Potion. Every single detail of the five of them was perfect, to a t. She was sure that somewhere, in the back of her parent’s minds, that’s how they’d hoped their children would stay. Perfect little angels who knew their place, who had cherubic smiles on their faces and soft giggles. As an adult, Isla would find herself staring at the middle child, squirming ever so slightly in her little white dress, her eyes glinting with just a hint of mischief, and want to tell her to run away and never look back.

But then, really, would Isla be Isla?

Isla was a ball of energy that was almost impossible to tame. Of course, she knew when not to overstep her parent’s wishes, but oh Merlin, was it fun to toe just a hair over the line. As a little girl, she wasn’t given much opportunity. She would run wild around the nursery, declaring herself a dragon on any given Tuesday, or the Quidditch World Champion for a weekend. She jumped off beds, had notebooks full of doodles, sang at the top of her lungs- she was absolutely her own person. Willful, too. From about the age of three, there was no getting Isla to do anything that Isla didn’t want to do. She would sit, stubborn as an ox, in the same spot for hours on end. It drove her mother and father absolutely mad- but her aunt had always laughed and remarked that as long as there were Selwyns, there would be willful, headstrong witches in the world.

Hogwarts was the time for freedom that Isla really needed. It was freedom, at least to a point, to explore and experience and learn what she liked, to do what she wanted. Of course, she was never encouraged to do certain things. It was almost an unspoken thing- of course her parents wanted her socializing with students from pureblood families, of course they wanted her in the Frog Choir, of course they wanted her in the Slug Club- these were things that they could brag about to their friends, things that would make their daughter sound like the creme of the crop. It was easy with Isla’s older sister- Maeve had always been the golden girl. But Isla liked to subvert expectations and do what she wanted to do. She loved flying. Soaring above the world in the red and gold of the Gryffindor House Team, a very unladylike beater’s bat in one hand, she felt freer than free. Like she never wanted to touch the ground again. She loved Care of Magical Creatures, her gentler side emerging from the usual ferocity of her spirit. She could speak to the creatures for hours. She’d watch flobberworms, and somehow, not get bored. She hid a niffler in the Gryffindor Girl’s Dormitory for a month because it had hurt itself and she wanted to heal him up (his name was Gregory, and yes, she got found out by McGonagall… Gregory got taken away, and in a rare sighting, Isla cried for hours). She’d make friends with anyone and everyone from any house, even though there were certain friends that she had to tiptoe around, lest naive Grant slip up and tell their parents. Hell, she even snogged a few guys, a few girls, a few neither, and a few both. She had a relationship or two, though nothing romantic ever really lasted. All of this was okay because it fell within the realm of education. It wasn’t the real world- not yet. Her parents didn’t care what she did, so long as she brought no irredeemable shame to them.

Soon after graduation, her mother first used the most dreaded word in all of English: marriage. And thus began Isla’s great attempt to avoid ever talking about getting married. She quickly found a quidditch team that would sign her on, and thankfully her parents indulged her ‘whim’. For five years after Hogwarts, five glorious, beautiful, amazing years, she flew professionally. Isla knew it wasn’t exactly what her parents wanted- she knew the remarks regarding their younger daughter’s occupation that ran in their little circle of pureblood friends. But Isla didn’t care. Until she had to care. Until her parents told her she couldn’t fly anymore, even though she was so close to landing a spot in the big leagues. No. That word came back to haunt her. Marriage. Isla had to get married to some nice pureblooded boy that they approved of- preferably another old name- and have little pureblood babies. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t in love with anyone, it didn’t matter that she didn’t want to get married- it was marry or be cut off. This was the only place that her parent’s held the power, where the line was drawn in flames rather than chalk. They threatened her with stories of Andromeda Tonks, who ran off with a muggleborn and had a kid, who was cut off from the family, burned off the family tree, shunned from all of society. And while Isla didn’t care about the rest of society, she did care about being cut off from her family.

Enter Archie.

Archibald Macmillan, one of Isla’s closest friends in the world, was in a similar conundrum: his parents were demanding a marriage to a nice pureblooded young lady- the catch in his particular situation was that young ladies weren’t exactly his type. Thus, the world’s most perfect plan was hatched: Archibald Macmillan would marry Isla Selwyn. They would be married for the sake of marrying- to placate their parents and the demands for traditional pureblood values and a path for an eventual heir- but have the freedom to be themselves within their own relationship. Freedom within the constraints their families had placed upon them. Thankfully, Archie hadn’t fussed when she asked… or really demanded… she keep her surname as well as take his. She was Isla Selwyn after all. Now she was just a Macmillan too.

It wasn’t until after the wedding that Isla found out why her parents had been so demanding and had threatened to cut her clean off if she hadn’t married. The reason was referred to as You-Know-Who and other darling pseudonyms. He wanted a pureblood society, full of traditional pureblood values. If you defied him and his followers, you often ended up dead. It had been her family’s way of protecting her without really explaining why. That knowledge made her blood boil. She had been so angry with her family, but so afraid that they would cut her off just like Andromeda Tonks had been burned off the Black Family Tree that she caved. But it was this… this slimy, foul, miserable wretch of a wizard who wanted a perfect world for himself to rule over. What You-Know-Who didn’t know was that he had made an enemy on her wedding day, whilst she was saying her ‘I do’s to a man she loved but wasn’t in love with, while her family sat, painted smiles on their face. He had made her choose to clip her wings. And for that, he would pay.

OCCUPATION:

Once upon a time, Isla was going to fly for the rest of her life. She was going to live on her broomstick and make it big one day. Maybe she’d even fly for the Holyhead Harpies. She’d already planned it all out. Unfortunately, Voldemort and, because of their fear of their daughter being hurt or worse, her parents, had more traditional plans for her. So Isla Selwyn MacFusty is a wife. It isn’t an occupation she wanted by any stretch of the imagination- but at least it’s a marriage to Archie, and not one of the arrogant ministry goons her mum would have picked out for her. She supposes that the Order is more of an occupation in the traditional sense- it doesn’t pay (but she doesn’t need money, what with the Selwyn and Macmillan money floating around), but it gives her something to do. She’s also taken on a new occupation- one that she wasn’t certain that she’d ever wanted. Being the mother of Ernie Macmillan was the best job she’s ever had. She’d do anything for her little boy, anything in the world.

ROLE WITHIN THE ORDER/THOUGHTS ABOUT THE ORDERS:

Isla’s fairly certain that most of the Order does not like her because of her last name… or last names. Sometimes it makes her feel like she’s sticking out like a sore thumb- the pureblood girl with the perfect pureblood life, what’s she doing fighting with the underdogs? Isla wishes that there were some way for her to reassure the Order that she’d do just about anything to help, because she doesn’t agree with anything that Voldemort says… the slimey old git. The past is the past, and it should stay there. Archaic and old, let it mold away. Fighting this fight lets her at least try to banish the past way of thinking. Plus, she believes that every good secret organization needs a few good men (or women) who have insight and connections to the enemy. Fortunately, Isla believes herself to be the exact girl for the job, She’s high enough up in pureblood society that people don’t suspect her. While most people in high society know of Isla’s fiery disposition, they believe her to be ‘tamed’ by married life, settling in as a graceful and elegant lady of the house. She can work her family’s circles to pick up intel and feed it back to the Order. Hopefully good information helps turn the tides on the war.

SURVIVAL:

Once upon a time, Isla thought she was invincible. Nothing bad would happen to her- the Death Eaters, while winning, were too dumb in her mind to think that one of the Selwyn girls was working against them. She was certain that they’d think no sweet, demure, little housewife and mother would ever be involved with an organization actively trying to take down Voldemort. Especially not with a surname like Selwyn Macmillan. But the events of October 31st 1981 have rattled the optimistic perspective of Isla. People got hurt. Really hurt. Before the Masquerade, she was fighting by sneaking around, bringing in information that could only be provided by someone in upper crust pureblood society. But the evening of the masquerade was the first time that she could actually die. Be it getting caught in the crossfire trying to save someone, or being caught working for the Order, or simply being in the wrong spot at the wrong time. And if she died, that left Archie and Ernie alone- the two people she’d do anything in the world for. If she got caught, or if she died, that put both of them at risk. Or worse, she got caught, and something happened to them- she’s not so sure if she could handle even thinking about something like that happening.

RELATIONSHIPS:

Archie Macmillan: She loves her husband to the moon and back- just not as one would normally love their husband. Marrying Archie was a no-brainer once the ultimatums began to be thrown around by her parents. He’d always been a close friend, he was someone her parents undoubtedly approved of, and he needed a safe marriage where he could be himself without sneaking around. She thinks the world of him, and she would do anything for him. Of course, the Order has put a bit of a strain on things, but she appreciates him being right by her side. It makes her feel less alone in things.

Andromeda Tonks: Isla can never decide whether or not to be jealous of Andromeda. She was free to live the life that she wanted with whom she wanted, but at the cost of losing her family. Isla is certain that she maintains a large amount of respect for the woman. She might have been the horror story her parents plagued her with, being left without a family or a home, but at least Andromeda didn’t give in to her parents. There’s a piece of Isla that eats at her every day for not fighting for just one more second of her freedom.

James Potter: Isla really cannot stand James Potter, and it’s not even his fault… or it is… it isn’t but it is. James has never had to worry about losing his family for dating who he wanted, for marrying or not marrying- he’s completely free. And even worse, he’s pitied for being in a relationship simply because Lily is a muggleborn. As if Lily Evans wasn’t smarter than ten purebloods combined… at least, in her humble opinion. All of these thoughts have given Isla a sort of prickly disposition whenever she’s around James. She doesn’t hate him, but she doesn’t like what he gets away with all because he’s James Potter and because he’s a bloke.

Emma Vanity: Emma Vanity is like looking into a mirror. A slightly more innocent, naive, little lamb of a mirror, but a mirror. She’s from a pureblood family, one that had wanted her to get married to a nice pureblood boy. And god, the girl almost did get married, and Isla still isn’t sure that that’s what the girl had wanted. She was freed from her betrothal by the untimely death of Mulciber, but Isla knows that that sort of freedom only lasts so long, especially nowadays. Hopefully, with a little bit of her help, Isla can get Emma to truly decide what she wants, and then help the girl with whatever comes next. Merlin knows Isla wishes that she had had someone who would have done that for her.

OOC EXPLORATION:

SHIPS/ANTI-SHIPS: Isla x chemistry. A warning that she will never do anything that would put Archie or her son at risk, any extramarital relationships will likely be secretive.

WHAT PRIVILEGES AND BIASES DOES YOUR CHARACTER HAVE?

Isla has led the glamorous life- she hasn’t had to worry about much of anything, ever. She never had to worry about being bullied or tormented about where she came from, let alone any other reason. Up until her time at Hogwarts, she hadn’t really met a muggleborn, let alone really understand what the muggle world was like- it wasn’t like she didn’t know that muggleborns existed, but they weren’t in the social circles that her parents ran in. So when she got to Hogwarts, she was a little bit too eager to find out things like how they got around or how they got rid of the boggarts in the attic or how they ever got their mail. There were times she was surprised how good at magic a muggleborn friend was, and as she got older, she’d kick herself for ever thinking like that. Having magic, she learned, didn’t mean you had to be good at it. For example, she was awful at transfiguration, whereas other students- muggleborn, halfblood, and pureblood alike- succeeded and even thrived at the art of changing one thing into another.

The only thing in the world she has working against her is Voldemort’s need for his rather archaic pureblood society and it’s ‘traditional’ values. Traditional in the sense that it was her job to be a delicate flower doing household magic and being demure and lovely as opposed to zooming through the air on a broomstick and feeling free. That freedom to be who she wanted to be has given her the tiniest sliver of a glimpse into a world she knows she could never dare to imagine. Ernie, she’s decided, will be raised to respect every wixen of every background. Her son will be better. She won’t let him be another pureblood thinking that he is the center of the universe, and all should bow before him.

WHAT ARE YOU MOST LOOKING FORWARD TO? I have never loved a group more, I swear to god. I am here for all the angst and in depth character writing.

PLOT DROP IDEAS: LITERALLY ANYTHING. Y’all have come up with better plot drops than I could ever imagine. But I’d love something that lets Isla really do some recon and bring back whatever information she can to the Order.

ANYTHING ELSE? AAAAAAAAAAH I LOVE YOU ALL

[sceptilemasterr]

“Vaanti Swears,” an Endless Summer crackfic

So my brain decided to blend one of my favorite Potter Puppet Pals episodes with Endless Summer, and this nonsense was the result. I may or may not have been slightly drunk at the time

Characters:

Taylor (can be any gender) as Harry

Varyyn as Hermione

Diego as Ron

Seraxa as Snape

Rourke as Voldemort

Uqzhaal as Dumbledore

A warning for ridiculous, mostly made-up “swearing” and a lot of censored bleeps. XD

*Taylor runs up to Varyyn and Diego, holding a piece of bark with writing on it*

Taylor: Guys! Uqzhaal just posted a list of words that are banned from Elyys’tel! I didn’t know Vaanti had swears.

Varyyn: Of course we do, Taylor, they’re called Vaanti Swears.

Diego: Oh! Like “Klaawi Bum!”

Taylor: ...Really? That’s adorable.

Varyyn: Oh, they’re worse than that. Read some, Taylor.

*Taylor looks at the list*

Taylor: Let’s see here… “Son of a Yeti.” That’s useful.

Varyyn: “Anlashocker,” that’s my favorite!

*Seraxa clears her throat behind them*

Seraxa: Ahem. Do my ears detect foul-mouthedness?

Varyyn: Uh, no, Seraxa--

Taylor: “ROURKE’S NIPPLES!”

Seraxa: EXCUSE ME?!

Varyyn: *smack* Taylor!

Seraxa: This filth is no longer tolerated in Elyys’tel. You will all be punished immediately for--

Diego: “CETUS BOOGERS!” :D

*Awkward silence as everyone stares at him*

Taylor: ...Everybody, run. “Island’s Crotch!”

*They all run away from Seraxa*

(I skipped the Neville part since I couldn’t think of a character to play him, sorry)

Later...

Taylor: Hey, I know! Let’s do a prank call!

*They pull out a phone and call someone*

Rourke (on phone): Everett Rourke speaking--

Taylor/Varyyn/Diego: “Sabertooth Taint!”

Rourke (on phone): What?! You idiots! If I ever find out who’s calling me, I will call all of my lawyers and send you to jail for the rest of your lives, mark my words! And then I’ll kill you! Because I’m Everett Rourke! Stop calling me--

*They hang up as Uqzhaal and Seraxa walk in*

Uqzhaal: War-Chief Seraxa would like to have a word with you three.

Varyyn: “Oryctoraptor turds”…

Seraxa: That is exactly the sort of vulgarity that we wish to eradicate from the ancient and distinguished city of Elyys’tel. The traditions of our people must be upheld and respected. The ancients would surely be--

Taylor: “Anachronist-[CENSORED] crab [CENSORED],” Seraxa!

Seraxa: WHAT?!

Taylor: You “floppy daggered Arachnid buggerer!”

*awkward silence*

Diego: …“Vaanu’s Face!”

Seraxa: Uqzhaal, I urge you to banish these monsters.

Uqzhaal: Oh, Seraxa, let them have their flop-doodle!

Seraxa: But you’re the one who banned the words in the first place…

Uqzhaal: I don’t even remember five minutes ago! Back to your skulking.

*Seraxa leaves*

Varyyn: Wow, thank you so much, Uqzhaal!

Uqzhaal: Alas! You’re welcome!

Taylor: Uqzhaal… you’re extremely old, right?

Uqzhaal: Why yes! :D

Taylor: Would you happen to know any… super-ancient, lost-to-the-ages, archaic, olden-times Vaanti swears?

*Dramatic music plays*

Uqzhaal: Ah… well, there is one…

Diego: I want to hear it!

Uqzhaal: ...The Island’s Swear. You must NEVER repeat it to anyone.

Varyyn: We promise, Uqzhaal.

Uqzhaal: Here it is:

*takes a deep breath*

Uqzhaal: “Your mother is a [CENSORED]-ing Matlakon pashtak [CENSORED] Zhen panaha soraa [CENSORED] Anlashokk [CENSORED] Sabertooth [CENSORED] Anachronist [CENSORED] Diego Soto [CENSORED] With a bucket of [CENSORED] In MASADA far away where no one can hear you [CENSORED] Sap [CENSORED] With a bucket of [CENSORED] Jake McKenzie [CENSORED] And Craig’s arm cannon [CENSORED] Time-traveling [CENSORED] Elyyshar!”

*Awkward silence*

Diego: ...Wow…

Uqzhaal: Now you know. You must never, EVER repeat it to anyone, okay?

Taylor: We promise, sir.

*During the final battle with Rourke*

Rourke: Mwahahaha! Now, prepare to--

All Catalysts and Varyyn: YOUR MOTHER IS A [CENSORED]-ING MATLAKON PASHTAK [CENSORED] ZHEN PANAHA SORAA [CENSORED] ANLASHOKK [CENSORED] SABERTOOTH… (etc)

THE END

(yeah idk either)

[irregodless]

so like. id post a real review of the bye bye man but none of you care. nor should you.

the bye bye man was just plain bad. it wasnt hilariously bad. it wasnt even cringe-ily bad. it was just plain bad.

if youre morbidly MORBIDLY curious i recommend you go see it ONLY on a nice saturday night when theres more likely to be more people watching it. those are the ONLY circumstances you should see the bye bye man under. because with any luck youll have an audience like ours where nobody took it seriously and you could all laugh about how bad it is together.

it’s not worth renting and its def not worth buying. not even for a small viewing with your friends. fifteen bucks is also a steep price to pay for a communal bonding experience, so allow me to recommend: not watching it at all. or tbh paying for a better movie and sneaking in to see it

its only any good with an audience that makes fun of it. and even then it was only good for about fifteen minutes.

in case youre morbidly curious but also dont want to LITERALLY waste your money; a review underneath:

first and foremost the bye bye man himself looks like lord palpatine and voldemort had a kid

mixed with that beauty and the beast ripoff with the guy and the tattoos

MIXED with ruvik from the evil within

now what IS it?

its a worse version of freddy krueger. nightmare on elm street had charm to it, yknow? it was kind of a comedy. it made fun of horror. freddy was an enjoyable character. there was also a story behind it, even if it took a few sequels to get to

spoilers oncoming, obviously

the bye bye man, seemingly, is an escapee from the teenagers prison part of fosters home for imaginary friends because the first and only time he was every mentioned coming up was when a kid blamed killing his entire family on “the bye bye man.”

the reason its a ripoff of freddy krueger, by the way, is because the bye bye man only exists as long as anybody knows his name. as long as someone remembers he exists he DOES exist. which makes it an obnoxious and probably lame metaphor about how we “give our thoughts power”

the film also neglects to tell what would happen if you said “bye-bye, man” to someone. we dont know if that would summon him

but basically what happens is someone learns his name and because LOL ITS SO RIDICULOUS LOL (the movie acknowledges this but acts poorly on it by not even making it interesting or a big deal) people spread it and tell others. but theres no reason hes named the bye bye man. theres no big fuck at the end where some deep hidden meaning (or even obvious meaning in that he makes you go bye bye) where it ALL MAKES SENSE AND GIVES U CHILLS

if they wanted it to be better, to prove how ridiculous it was we could “give power” to this idea and spread it because its silly they LITERALLY just should have gone with “peepee poopoo man” like honestly

but we get 0 backstory as to where he came from. not even like. “OOO EVIL INDIAN VOODOO LOL” like NOTHING WE DONT KNOW WHERE HE CAME FROM THEY DIDNT CARE THEY JUST WANTED TO THROW SOME SPOOKY AMBIANCE AND SOME JUMPSCARES TOGETHER AND MAKE SOME MONEY IT SUCKS SO MUCH

anyway

once you know the name you start hallucinating and all you can think about is the bye bye man and you end up coming into danger the longer it is until something bad happens.

HOWEVER

only one character dies because of this. she sees a car crash and a dying family and runs to save them (which is the same way the family of the person she was driving with died, which means it would have made more sense for HIM to see that and get worked up over it. not to mention she was canonically sensitive to spirits so just by being in close proximity to him itd make sense shed see their death scene which means we dont even know that the bye bye man caused that to happen. and shes the only case of the bye bye man “killing” anyone. just knowing his name torments people with intrusive thoughts and nightmares which could be explained by................................ mold or mental illness.)

so bc you know his name you get nightmares and nono thoughts and the only way to kill him is to kill everyone who knows about him so they cant spread his name. but somehow he always sticks around. BECAUSE SOME ASSHOLE WHO KNEW NOBODY COULD KNEW HIS NAME. CARVED THE BYE BYE MANS FUCKING NAME INTO A DRESSER FOR EVERYONE TO FUCKING FIND. IF HE KNEW NOBODY COULD KNOW HIS NAME. WHY DID HE PUT IT THERE? OR DID THE BYE BYE MAN PUT IT THERE? BUT CAN THE BYE BYE MAN STILL EXIST IF NOBODY KNOWS? CAN HE MANIPULATE THE PHYSICAL PLANE? if the bye bye mans name exists on paper but nobody knows it, by platos/socrates forms does he still exist in some capacity?

let me make a list of all the things the bye bye man HIMSELF has been shown to do DIRECTLY (there is no proof he even causes the nightmares)

fed his demon dog dead people

randomly appeared in the house

scratched up the bricks on the fence outside the house

poked the guy in the forehead (im not even joking. he doesnt do shit at the end. he just boops the guy on the head to the tune of the doorbell ringing and then the guy kills himself because its “too much” apparently)

the bye bye man did nothing wrong

the bye bye man LITERALLY DID NOTHING WRONG

HE DIDNT DO ANYTHING

HE JUST WANTED TO FEED HIS DOG. AND BY ALL CONCEPTS, U COULD JUST SEE THAT AS HIM BEING A DEATH GOD. THE REAPER. HIS DOG COMES AND EATS UR BODY AS A REPRESENTATION OF DECAY (since his dog is like. giant and skinless itself.)

so yeah the movie doesnt even prove that the bye bye man is doing anything actively malicious. maybe the bye bye man WANTS people to forget about him maybe he doesnt want people getting into his business

so.

-no backstory -harmless antagonist -boring jumpscares -unlikable characters (he has ONE intrusive thought his gf is cheating on him with his bff and “SOMETHING IS SERIOUSLY WRONG HERE!!!!” and immediately starts grilling them, assuming they ARE having an affair) which brings me to: -barely anything happens and they start freaking out because somethings wrong (she zoned out and doodled in her notebook and he had a nightmare, and suddenly theyre super defensive about it) -a twist at the end that doesnt even ultimately matter -FUCKING OPENING FOR A SEQUEL LIKE PLEASE FUCK OFF -stupid name with a DECENT concept that was executed horribly because they didnt know wtf they were doing. the concept, btw, was only DECENT. and even if it had been a dumb metaphor about the power we give to ideas, maybe that should have been focused more heavily on than being a throwaway line ONCE during the beginning of the movie -annoying seance scene with nonbelievers and SUPER DUPER REAL PSYCHIC, WE SWEAR

it was just bad dont watch it

EDIT: also they did nothing with the fact that “ooh, you the audience thought it was silly but u all kno his name and told ppl and everyone is @ risk.... now U ALL NEED TO DIE!!!! MUAHAHALOLHAHA”