#yes I am aware they share a name with one of the blue wizards

[oakwyrm]

A forgotten Old God and the mortal who woke them.

[olympians367]

How can one minor change affect the future?

One morning, Severus Snape wakes up to find an infant on his doorstep with only a note to explain its appearance. A friend of his - one that had gone missing after Hogwarts and presumed dead - was begging him to care for her daughter, a girl who had caught the attention of the Dark Lord.

Unbeknownst to him, he has just been entrusted with the responsibility of raising the daughter of Poseidon, a child whose powers transcends that of Heracles; a child who has been fated to either save Olympus . . . or destroy it. A child like this being raised and taught by a cold and emotionally reserved man, who knows the Dark Arts and potion-making like the back of his hand, could have a less than favorable outcome.

After eleven years of being isolated from the wizarding world, Evangeline is starting her first day at Hogwarts, and is about to make a shocking discovery.

[Chapters are between two to five thousand words long.]

Chapter Four - Flying Lesson Disaster

“I hear you’ll be having flying lessons tomorrow,” Snape said, taking a sip of his tea. 

Evangeline was in her father’s office, serving her “detention”. Her punishments consisted of sitting in his office and sharing a cup of tea with him, while having a conversation on several topics. Now, Snape could just send his daughter invites to come see him, but he wants to avoid the scenario of someone questioning why she was always coming to his office and him explaining why, seeing as everyone believes him to be a cynical loner. 

“Yeah, with the Slytherins,” Evangeline replied, rolling her eyes as she took a bite from her blue chocolate chip cookie. 

“Do I sense some irritation in your tone, young lady?” Snape gives his daughter a disapproving stare, visibly telling her to watch what she says next. 

Over Evangeline’s childhood, she quickly learned when she should push her father’s buttons, which was why she didn’t watch what she said next. “Yes, you do sense some irritation because I am irritated. No offense, father, but your House is filled with snobby, racist, and entitled kids - no wonder the Sorting Hat didn’t place me there! I’m now glad it didn’t.”

Snape wanted to argue, but had no leg to stand on. Most of Slytherin’s reputation was well-deserved, and with their parents affiliation with He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named and his own experiences with them, they’re not the right influence for his daughter. A part of him was also glad the Sorting Hat hadn’t placed her into Slytherin. Snape had promised her mother to keep her safe from the Dark Lord’s clutches, and he can’t easily do that if Evangeline is constantly surrounded by people who would try to convince her to join the Dark Lord. 

“I’m aware you’ve had experience flying a broom, but are you excited to learn how to fly?” 

Evangeline’s lips curled into a joyful grin as she nodded. “Very.”

A rare smile graced Snape’s lips, one that he only showed to his family. His daughter was always an adventurous, free-spirited girl, and frankly, was unlike any witch he’s ever seen or heard of. As a child, if something sounded interesting to her, she’d try it. Evangeline has done soccer, swimming, baseball, jiu jitsu, taekwondo, boxing, gymnastics, skateboarding, surfing, baking, violin, piano, horse-riding – she was a very active child. Snape has asked why she never tried wizard sports, and her answers ranged from “They’re not my thing” to “You won’t let me” to “When you wizards stop relying on a small ball to end Quidditch and acting like a bunch of babies, then I’ll play your sports” depending on her mood. Allowing her to do these things stopped her from running around the house like a cat at 3AM. 

“I’ve been meaning to ask, Evangeline, but why didn’t you sing during the school song? Frankly, I was disappointed when I didn’t hear you - it would’ve started off my year just right.”

“I did sing,” Evangeline’s voice became quiet and slightly high-pitched, and she did her best to hide it by sipping her tea. However, her father was no fool. 

“I know what my daughter sounds like, and mouthing does not count as singing.”

“You know I don’t like singing in front of people.”

Snape furrows his brows in confusion. “Why? You have a lovely singing voice, my dear. You never had much trouble singing in front of your mother, Theodore, and me.”

“You have a nice smile,” Evangeline retorted. “Why don’t you smile for people other than mom, Theodore, and me?”

Snape and Evangeline stared at each other, her defiant eyes standing their ground against his strict ones. Despite wanting to scold her for her backtalk, Snape decided against it as she had a point. “Touché.” 

The two talked a bit more, changing the subject to the art they had been sent by Theodore, who spent every minute of every day sketching, drawing, painting, and sculpting, if he felt like it. This led to the eight-year-old boy to become a prodigy, and Theodore had said multiple times that he planned on creating his own graphic novel with a set of interesting characters. Snape always wanted to tell his son that his stories might not be accepted in the wizarding world, but he never could go through with it. 

As dinner neared, the two began cleaning up, making the office look as though no bonding had occurred. Before leaving, Snape gently ran his hands through his daughter’s hair, messing it up a bit. Evangeline’s hair would always get messy after she played sports, and somehow it looked natural on her - showed off a bit of her wild side. Now, whenever Snape sees her hair even a tad messy, he knew that she had been having fun. Snape brushed his finger at the base of Evangeline’s neck, causing her to flinch and giggle; he smiled. He tenderly kissed her forehead, whispering, “My beautiful child.”

Evangeline was certainly a beautiful girl, a fact not lost on Harry. 

The moment his green eyes caught her walking into the Great Hall, he couldn’t help but watch her every movement. Most of the students, and a few staff, watched as she strolled towards the Gryffindor table with an air of confidence, her robes billowing behind her as she sat down, filled her plate, and began eating. 

This was a common occurrence. 

The majority of Hogwarts felt Evangeline was a different breed of witch. It wasn’t because of how talented she was in her classes, it was everything else. She commanded attention and respect without needing to ask, and people regularly parted for her like the Red Sea in the halls. Her intense black eyes that shone with a fierce determination were like two onyx jewels, standing out against her pale skin that was so well-defined it had to have been created by one of the greatest sculptors of the century. Her hair, that was braided on certain days and messy on others, was parted right down the middle and framed her face like a silk curtain with soft curls. When she spoke, everyone could hear the exotic accent mixed in with the British one; it sounded like Spanish, but they weren’t sure. She was a girl that was hard to ignore. She had this thing about her, this strange aura that grabbed people’s attention. 

Harry has talked to her a few times. She was a friendly girl, but weirdly, she never spoke about her family, especially her father. 

All of Gryffindor felt bad for her as the Potions Master, Snape, would harp on her every Potions class and constantly give her detentions. Sometimes, the professor would get so angry that he’d start making weird hand gestures that would force Evangeline’s ADHD to focus on, resulting in him getting more angry. It was a surprise she hadn’t broken down crying yet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry hated Draco Malfoy more than he hated his bully of a cousin, Dudley. It was partially because the first-year Slytherin had a massive crush on Evangeline, a fact he didn’t keep quiet. Thankfully, first-year Gryffindors only had Potions with first-year Slytherins, so Harry didn’t have to hear or see Draco terribly flirt with Evangeline. Though, he did enjoy seeing the color drain from his face once he noticed the murderous glare Snape gave him as he vibrated with fury, which was a weird reaction to have when one student flirts with another.

Until . . . 

Professor McGonagall had posted a notice in the Gryffindor common room, informing the first-years that their flying lessons started on Thursday. The first-years excitement quickly diminished once they realized they’d be flying with first-year Slytherins. 

“Typical,” said Harry darkly. “Just what I always wanted, to make a fool of myself on a broomstick in front of Malfoy.”

“You don’t know that you’ll make a fool of yourself,” Ron reassured. “Anyway, I know Malfoy’s always going on about how good he is at Quidditch, but I bet that’s all talk.” 

Malfoy spoke about flying a lot, often complaining loudly about how first-years never getting placed into House Quidditch teams, and boasting about the many times he narrowly escaped Muggles in helicopters. Evangeline called him a liar as not even his father had enough money to bribe the newspapers from headlining: WEALTHY PURE-BLOOD’S SON STUPIDLY TRIES TO EXPOSE THE WIZARDING WORLD MULTIPLE TIMES. 

Although, her words were much more harsh. 

When questioned, Evangeline had confessed that she wasn’t very good at flying a broom, and the moment the magical boys heard that, they offered to teach her. Seamus Finnigan felt he was more qualified to teach her as he had spent most of his childhood zooming around the countryside on his broomstick, whereas Ron didn’t have his own broom and almost hit a hang glider. Evangeline firmly turned them down because, “If my father found out I was alone with a boy, he’d blow a gasket!”

Hermione Granger was just as nervous about flying as Neville was, and as expected, she went into the library and grabbed a book called Quidditch Through the Ages to learn everything she could about the subject. Evangeline tried to convince her that learning how to fly a broom is like learning how to ride a horse, just because you have the equipment and knowledge doesn’t mean you can control the horse. However, no convincing could stop the bushy-haired girl from lecturing her peers to boredom during breakfast on Thursday; Neville listened to her with keen ears, desperately wanting to avoid having an accident in the air and would take any form of advice.

Thankfully, for the first-years, Hermione’s lecture was interrupted by the mail. 

Harry hadn’t received a single letter since Hagrid’s note, something Malfoy was quick to notice and he was very quick to gloat about the packages of sweets he got from his parents. 

Evangeline received plenty of things from her family. Sweets dyed blue and uplifting notes from her mother, detailed drawings from her eight-year-old brother, and for some reason, her father sent her cryptic messages. 

Neville excitedly opened a small package from his grandmother, removing a glass ball the size of a large marble that was filled with white smoke. “It’s a Remembrall!” He explained, showing it off to them. “Gran knows I forget things – this tells you if there’s something you’ve forgotten to do. Look, you hold it tight like this and if it turns red – oh . . . “ At the sight of the Remembrall glowing scarlet, Neville’s face fell. “You’ve forgotten something. . .”

Neville furrowed his brows, staring inquisitively at the Remembrall as he tried his hardest to remember what he had forgotten. This was one of the things he didn’t like about himself, how he could hardly remember anything. He hoped this object would be of some use, but it wasn’t! It didn’t help at all! 

He had been so busy trying to remember that he didn’t notice Malfoy, who had just happened to be passing by, leaning in to snatch the Remembrall out of his hands. Without even looking up from the letter from her father, detailing what potion she’d have to poorly brew, Evangeline’s hand shot up and grabbed Malfoy’s wrist. 

Malfoy jumped, not having expected Evangeline to do such a thing. Her grip was tight enough that he couldn’t pull back his hand, but gentle enough that there was little to no pain. Harry and Ron, who had jumped to their feet, Seamus, whose mouth was open and about to gulp down a spoon of porridge, the Weasley twins, who stared with a look of amazement, and everyone else - except Hermione, whose nose was stuck in her book - stared at Evangeline, who still didn’t look up from her letter. 

“Let. It. Go,” was all she said. Her normal cheerful tone was gone, replaced by a casual sentence with an underlying threat in her words. 

Malfoy’s face paled, a shiver running down his spine at how she said those words. He looked around the Gryffindors closest to them and his friends, looking for reassurance that he wasn’t seeing or hearing things. Everyone was quiet, both confused and alarmed by Evangeline’s sudden change in demeanor. Malfoy jumps as Evangeline’s grip on his wrist tightens, and he immediately lets go of the Remembrall, stepping back and massaging his now free wrist. 

Professor McGonagall, who could spot trouble faster than any professor, rushed over and asked, “What’s going on?”

Before anyone could say anything, Evangeline looked up towards Professor McGonagall with a sweet smile and calmly explained, “Nothing, professor. Malfoy had simply come over to ask where we’d be having our flying lessons today, and Harry and Ron had offered to show him and his friends.”

Professor McGonagall’s stern expression softens and her lips curl into a small smile. “Oh, well, that’s very kind of you boys.” She nodded her head towards Harry and Ron before turning around and walking off. 

The moment the professor was out of earshot, Evangeline’s smile turned into an annoyed frown and her eyes became cold as she turned to look at Malfoy. She looked the boy and his friends up and down, almost inspecting them as they felt her stare into their souls every time their eyes met, before she asked, not-so-nicely, “Why are you still here?”

Immediately, the boys scampered off. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At three-thirty that afternoon, the first-year Gryffindors and Slytherins were standing on a smooth, flat lawn on the opposite side of the grounds that led to the forbidden forest, whose trees swayed darkly in the distance. In front of the students, laid in neat lines, were twenty broomsticks. 

Their professor, Madam Hooch, arrived shortly after them. She had short, spiky, gray hair and yellow eyes like a hawk. “Well, what are you all waiting for?” She barked. “Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up.”

As the students hurried to stand by a broom, Harry and Ron made sure that they got to stand by Evangeline. Despite the earlier hostile display Evangeline made, Malfoy did feel a tad jealous, especially since he couldn’t even stand in front of her. He kept looking over at her, hoping that she’d make eye contact with him, but she never did. 

Harry glanced down at his broomstick, and upon seeing how old it was and how its twigs stuck out at odd angles, he became upset at having to ride it. 

The thought of embarrassing himself in front of Evangeline sounded much worse than embarrassing himself in front of Malfoy. Harry wanted to impress her, and he’s not sure if he can do that on this broom. Although, she did say that she wasn’t the best at flying a broom, so maybe she won’t even notice. Hopefully. 

“Stick out your right hand over your broom,” called Madam Hooch, “and say ‘Up!’”

“Up!” Everyone shouted. 

Harry noted his broom was one of the few that jumped into their rider’s hands. Hermione’s had rolled over and Neville’s didn’t move at all; Evangeline’s jumped straight into her hand, and she gripped it firmly with that same fierce determination in her eyes. Her eyes watched Neville as he tried to get the broom to jump into his hand, and after a few minutes, she leaned forward and quietly advised how to command the broom. After finally managing to do it, Neville flashed Evangeline a thankful smile. 

Madam Hooch showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off at the end before walking up and down the rows, correcting their grip. While Harry and Ron were happy to hear her tell Malfoy he’d been doing it wrong for years, they were stunned to see her not correct Evangeline. They thought she would, considering Evangeline herself said she wasn’t good at flying a broom. 

“Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard,” Madam Hooch instructed, lifting her whistle to her lips. “Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle – three – two –” 

However, a thought sparked in Neville’s mind. What if he didn’t kick off on time? He might hesitate, and then he’ll be left behind. If he kicks off too late, then they’ll laugh at him, won’t they? He doesn’t want them to laugh or taunt him. He’s been making too many mistakes the past few weeks, and he’s not going to let this be another one. 

Letting his fear of being left on the ground get the better of him, Neville pushed off the ground before Madam Hooch even blew her whistle.

“Come back, boy!” she shouted, but Neville had forgotten how to come down. 

He kept rising and rising, his face losing its color as he watched the people below get smaller and smaller. His mind was swirling with voices; one scolded him for pushing off too early, another kept talking about how high they were getting, and the last freaked out about what everyone would think of him. Neville could just hear Professor Snape’s voice insulting him. “Idiot boy!” He’d say. “Thought you’d look good if you kicked off first, did you? You’re an arrogant fool. You don’t deserve the name Longbottom.”

At the slightest slip of his grip, Neville gasped, his heart skipping a beat as his eyes darted to his hands. Sweat. His hands were sweating. His eyes grew wide with fear, his breathing coming in hard and fast, and his heart skipped another beat as he lost his grip and slid off the broom.

The length of time it took for Neville to reach the ground felt like days, when it was really a few seconds. The wind rushed through his hair, cooling his face as eyes opened and closed rapidly to avoid seeing the ground and seeing how close he was getting to it. 

Fortunately, he had a soft surface to land on. Evangeline. 

With a loud thud, Neville landed on Evangeline and made her feel like she had been crushed - albeit by something that weighed as much as an apple. 

Madam Hooch rushed over to the two, pulling Neville up to his feet and quickly assessing him. Evangeline slowly sat up, being offered a hand by Malfoy. She had only raised her arm a few inches before letting out a pained cry and doubling over, clutching her side as her eyes water. A sharp sting had erupted on the right side of her chest. Like a fire in a dry forest, the stinging sensation spread and flared with each breath Evangeline took. She was too afraid to stand up, much less move; she’s broken enough bones to know this had to be a cracked rib. 

“I think he cracked my rib,” she muttered hoarsely. 

Madam Hooch knelt down, putting her hand up Evangeline’s jumper and shirt and inspecting the injury. “I think you’re right,” she says, glancing at her student who was finding it difficult to breathe without wincing. Madam Hooch helps her up, being careful to not aggravate the injury, before turning to the rest of the class. “None of you is to move while I take this girl to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you’ll be out of Hogwarts before you can say ‘Quidditch.’ Come on, dear.”

Evangeline limped back up to the castle, putting most of her weight on her left side as Madam Hooch kept her arm around her, making sure she didn’t fall. 

The second the two were out of sight, a scowling Draco Malfoy pushed Neville to the ground. Standing over him, he shouted, “You clumsy idiot! Just wait until Professor Snape hears about this!”

Harry and Ron immediately got in between Malfoy and Neville, not caring that Crabbe and Goyle, who were tall and strong-looking boys, had come up to defend Malfoy like a pair of bodyguards. “Leave him alone, Malfoy!” said Harry. 

“And why would Professor Snape care about what happened to Evangeline?” Ron inquired, smirking as he found the threat to be a poor one.

“Haven’t you heard, Weasley?” Malfoy’s tone was filled with derision as he spoke to someone he thought less of. “Evangeline is Snape’s daughter.”

There was a long pause. 

Everyone was stunned, with a few whispering, “His daughter?” “What is he talking about?” “Has Malfoy gone mad?” But then they started thinking. 

The two had the same black hair, pale skin, hooked nose, and dark eyes, except with slight differences. Snape’s hair was greasy, Evangeline’s was smoothly disheveled; Snape had sallow skin whereas Evangeline’s is practically porcelain; Snape’s hooked nose was large and Evangeline’s was barely noticeable; and lastly, Snape’s dark eyes were as cold as an ice storm, and Evangeline’s were warm like a campfire. 

They had seen it with their own eyes, but had never connected the dots. Even now, they still couldn’t believe Snape and Evangeline were father and daughter.

“Y-you’re lying,” stammered Neville, his eyes wide and his voice quivering with fear. He looked to be on the verge of tears. 

“My father saw them in Diagon Alley,” Malfoy proudly told everyone. “My father has known Professor Snape since Hogwarts, and he said that Evangeline looks exactly like him when he was young.”

Harry and Ron wanted to believe Malfoy was lying, that this was another one of those things he boasts about, but they couldn’t see anything other than the truth in his words. Neville was connecting the dots as well. He had hurt Professor Snape’s daughter. He had sent her to the Hospital Wing. 

“Professor Snape’s going to kill me,” Neville breathed out, crawling back into a tree.

Malfoy smirked, taking a step forward, his voice dropping to a foreboding whisper. “I also heard he loves his daughter more than anything in the world, and that he’d kill anyone who dared to hurt her.”

Neville whimpered. 

Without even thinking, Harry shoved Malfoy. It wasn’t a very hard shove, it only made Malfoy take two steps back. The other Slytherins moved forward, ready to pounce if need be. However, Malfoy had another idea. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he had spotted something shiny glistening in the afternoon sun. It was Neville’s Remembrall. Quickly, he snatched it up and held it high for everyone to see. “Look what we have here.”

“Hey!” Neville shouts, standing up and getting close. “That’s mine. Give it back.”

“You want it? Come and get it.” 

 Malfoy picked up his broomstick and flew off, hovering next to the topmost branches of a nearby oak tree. He threw the Remembrall in the air and caught it, taunting Neville, challenging him to pick up a broomstick and fly up after him. Except, it wasn’t Neville who picked up the broom and went after him. It was Harry. 

“No!” Hermione Granger shouted, trying to stop him. “Madam Hooch told us not to move – you’ll get us all into trouble.” 

As always, she was ignored. Harry flew up towards Malfoy, blood pounding in his ears, the breeze rushing through his hair and making his robes whip out behind him. In a split second, he realized he knew just how to maneuver his broom - it was easy, and being up there, with the wind encasing him and the rush of adrenaline flowing through his veins, he felt . . . wonderful. Like he could do anything. And right now, he was going to get Neville’s Remembrall back. 

Malfoy had a stunned look on his face as he watched Harry come towards him, the screams and gasps of the girls plus an admiring whoop from Ron echoing below. He couldn’t believe his eyes. This was Harry’s first time on a broomstick, and yet, here he was. Flying like a pro. 

“Give it here,” Harry called, “or I’ll knock you off that broom!”

Malfoy did his best to not look worried as he sneered. “Oh, yeah?”

The next thing Malfoy sees is Harry grasping his broom tightly with both hands, leaning forward, and then shooting toward him like a javelin. He managed to move out of the way before Harry could crash into him. With wide eyes, Malfoy glanced down at the Gryffindors who clapped at Harry’s spectacular display, and he felt his heart racing. 

“No Crabbe and Goyle up here to save your neck, Malfoy!” 

The same thought just came to Malfoy. He looked down so Harry wouldn’t see the worry in his eyes as he did his best to put on a brave face. The Gryffindor was right. Even if Crabbe and Goyle picked up their brooms, they’ve never flown. They wouldn’t make it up. They probably wouldn’t even get one foot off of the ground before crash landing. Malfoy needed to think of something, and he needed to think of something fast. 

As his ice-gray eyes darted in every direction, they finally landed on the Remembrall in his hands. Malfoy didn’t need to think very long before he shouted, “Catch it if you can, then!” and he threw the Remembrall high into the air, and rushed back to the ground. 

Harry’s eyes latched onto the Remembrall, and for him time slowed. He could hear the single breath he exhaled, the way the wood felt beneath his tightening grip, and his heart returning to a steady beat as he leaned forward and pointed the broom handle down, and then like a torpedo he dove, following the path of the Remembrall. Harry could hear everyone screaming, but their screams sounded distant, as if they were much farther than they truly were. He stretched out his hand, reaching for the Remembrall. Less than a foot from the ground, he pulled his broom straight, toppling gently onto the ground, Remembrall grasped tightly into his fist. 

With a proud grin, Harry stood up and walked over to Neville, handing the Remembrall back. “HARRY POTTER!”

The grin was wiped off of Harry’s face, his heart sinking as he watched Professor McGonagall running towards them. “Never – in all my time at Hogwarts – how dare you – might have broken your neck –” 

“It wasn’t his fault, professor –”

“Be quiet, Miss Patil.” 

“But Malfoy –”

“That’s enough, Mr. Weasley. Potter, follow me, now.”

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle had a triumphant look on their faces as they watched Harry numbly follow closely behind Professor McGonagall back to the castle. Malfoy crossed his arms over his chest, his triumphant look turning into a smug smirk; Ron glared at the back of his head, scenarios of what he’d do to the arrogant rich boy if he didn’t have two large boys protecting him. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Great Hall was abuzz with activity. The incidents that occurred between Neville and Evangeline and Harry and Malfoy had spread across the school, but not as much as Malfoy’s statement that Evangeline was Snape’s daughter. No one could believe that a kind girl like her could come from someone harsh like him. Many tried to disprove it, citing how different the two were, but others pointed out the similarities in appearance and mannerisms. The rumor had spread to the staff, and they were just as quick to shut it down before taking another second to think.  

Professor McGonagall stated that during the Sorting ceremony, before she called out Evangeline’s name, she felt that there was something off about it. There was a space between Evangeline and Prince, which was why she paused. The others confessed that they had noticed the change too, but weren’t sure if it was a mistake or on purpose. It was then that Headmaster Dumbledore remembered Snape’s mother’s maiden name was Prince. Professor Quirrell hypothesized that Evangeline was his sister, but with her age and the time Snape’s parents died, it was unlikely. 

“Wait, if Evangeline is his daughter,” started Professor Sprout, the realization hitting her like a sack of bricks, “then, this means Snape had sex . . . with a woman.”

The others were hit by the same realization. One of the professors suggested Evangeline was born from a one-night-stand and the woman was extremely drunk, but Nearly Headless Nick chimed in that Evangeline not only has a mother but a younger brother named Theodore. 

“He has a wife?” Professor McGonagall exclaimed in shock. 

“And a son as well,” said Professor Sinistra. “Why is this the first we’re hearing of this?”

“Severus was always a bit secretive,” said Professor Flitwick.

“Yes,” said Dumbledore, “but you’d think he’d share something important as having a family.”

They knew the majority of rumors they heard from the students were false, but Evangeline was solid proof that they were right this time. Still, they couldn’t imagine it. Snape with a wife and two kids. Flitwick always thought women were too scared of him, while Trelawney thought he was too shy to even approach a woman. They wanted to ask Snape himself how true these rumors were, but he hadn’t arrived for dinner, which was strange.

As the Great Hall wondered what Severus Snape’s wife and son looked like, with some commenting that his wife was just as bad as him and surmised the two were just as harsh with their children, the doors burst open and a salty smell filled the air.  

They all looked up, craning their heads to get a better look at the tall man with light-green skin, blue eyes, and short dark hair that stood in the doorway. A white cloth was draped around his athletic body and over his left shoulder, being held up by a golden medallion. 

“Hello, my name is Konstantinos,” he proclaimed, his eyes scanning the room with great excitement and eagerness. “I am a Tritone, a member of the God of the Seas court. I am here for his daughter.” 

[scottishkitty-arts]

Extracting Wizard from Stone (Gale x Tav, short fic)

(Note: Check out my previous post for details on my Tav. TLDR: he is a half-elf cleric of the Life Domain, sworn under Kelemvor, named Gaeleath Lhanger.)

The edges of Gaeleath’s lips turned downward. Both he and Shadowheart watched as the apparent “wizard” floundered on the soil after being oh-so-expertly freed from the faulty portal that he, himself, had conjured and proceeded to get stuck in. The two shared a glance, their silent disapproval voiced in a language that needed no words.

“Apologies,” the man started quickly, shooting up to his feet & hurriedly brushing the clinging dust from his vibrant purple robe, “I’m usually better at this.”

Though, as the man regained his composure, a warm smile flashed onto his lips & his hand quickly took up Gaeleath’s as he continued,

“I’m Gale of Waterdeep.”

Reflexively, Gaeleath’s hand recoiled from his grip & disgust furrowed his eyebrows downwards. “Gaeleath,” he responded tersely as he tucked the edges of his glove back beneath his leather bracer.

“Well, whoever you are, I’m glad for your help,” the man continued with unwavering warmth in his tone, “Though, we know each other, right- in a manner of speaking. You were on the nautaloid as well.”

A cold shiver washed down Gaeleath’s spine, the memories of the ordeal flowing with it. “Yes,” he spoke through gritted teeth, his eyes fixed on the exposed seams of his timeworn-leather gloves.

There was a moment of stringent, awkward silence.

“I… see you are a man of few words,” Gale chuckled, before clearing his throat, “Well, I’m assuming that you, too, are a recipient of a rather unwelcome insertion in the ocular region.”

Gaeleath’s eyes instantly shot up, his frigid blue eyes imparting a tepid validation alongside a not-so-subtly concealed message that the fumbling man should perhaps tread lightly.

Yet, without hesitation, the wizard returned the intensity, “Easy now, we are not enemies. At least, not at this time,” he bristled, an intensified heat to his words, “I am simply aware that the infection that ails us both will eventually result into our excruciating transformation into mind flayers. It is a process known as ceremorphosis- and I can assure you, we are both on the same page when it comes to our opinions on the matter.

There. Can you trust me now?”

The half-elf stood in place, but dropped his gaze. Gaeleath’s eyes flickered back & forth on the soil, weighing the matter in his mind.

“Y’know, he has right to be cautious,” a voice from behind him interjected; Shadowheart, “We were just kidnapped by a colony of mind flayers. Who’s to say you’re not just another veiled threat meant to trick us?”

The wizard released an exasperated sigh, drawing his hands through his finely trimmed beard, “I assure you, if those creatures wanted to lull you into a false sense of security, they would have a hundred better choices than the likes of myself,” he huffed, “besides, I feel it pertinent to mention that you were the ones to pluck me from the stone.”

The air crackled with intensity; Shadowheart’s fingers dancing on her mace whereas Gale stood tall- though his tightened fist revealed his intent to return fire if necessary (perhaps literally).

“Alright.”

The sudden, low voice drew both sets of eyes to Gaeleath,

“I trust you,” he spoke simply.

Gale's relief was immediate; answering with a sigh, dropped shoulders, and a relaxed smile. Shadowheart, however, retorted with a sharp, humourless laugh, “Just like that?”

“Yes. We require more allies if we are to survive,” the half-elf spoke over his shoulder, his refrained tone reflecting his careful calculation, “especially ones who appear to hold at least some knowledge of our condition.”

“It would be more helpful if he knew how to cure it,” Shadowheart frowned, but conceded her effort.

The newly formed trio then set off towards the ruins of the ship, hoping to pick through some more clues & perhaps encounter more hopeful allies in the process.

(As a little ending note, I'm doing these little interpretations of the cutscenes as a lil treat to myself between uni projects. I'll more than likely post more whenever I get the chance if people are interested!)

[thorinsbestie]

First time writing in english, is still hard for me to make paragraphs have sense, sorry :'3

War and Victory

Five months stood in the past since (y/n) magically appeared in front of everyone's eyes thanks to a mischief of Gandalf, after that she had been reluctantly accepted into Thorin's Company. Her relationship with the dwarves at first was not the best, however with the passing of days it improved little by little; now everyone treated her as if she were an old friend of theirs.

(Y/n) was lively, although most of her scandal and shamelessness led her to be the victim of the constant scolding that Thorin dedicated to his nephews. The three of them were somewhat common personalities, after a week or two the Li brothers and (y/n) had easily turned to nail and grime. It was no wonder why they had become best friends so quickly, both princes adored her, especially since (y/n) used to cunningly challenge their uncle, defying his words with a playfulness that drove the poor dwarf king mad and ended him musing incomprehensible words in khuzdul.

Today everyone had stopped in a town of men to reload ammunition of food and medicinal herbs. Being so late Thorin had agreed to stay in a tavern, the dwarves would share two rooms and the last one was left free for Bilbo, Gandalf and the human; luckily for (y/n) the hobbit was downstairs with the rest of the Company enjoying their free time. (Y/n) needed to talk with the Istari about a painful subject that she had been hiding in the depths of her soul since her arrival in Middle Earth.

As they approached the Lonely Mountain her heart stumbled more full of regret while remembering the tragic losses that all would suffer in the future.

"Gandalf, it's time for us to talk," she began, turning her cheerful face off with a pained expression, "you told me in the beginning that it was you who brought me here. You revealed to me that you were aware of everything I know about the future of Durin's sons and you asked me to keep the secret until I understood the purpose of my visit" the wizard looked towards the wood of the floor instead of her pleading eyes "I ... I think or rather I feel that from the first moment I came I knew what my role was. Five months have passed and my suspicions about this purpose it's now confirmed ... and I... I have made a mistake" she swallowed "a feeling that I already brought with me from my world was reinforced, I feel so desperate to prevent them from dying that…"

"Do you think it is correct to change the flow of events?"  the wizard interrupted.

"I believe… is no longer important if this is correct or not. I adore Fili and Kili, and I love Thorin. I have been in love with him since I read his story in my world!"

"And do you love him enough to lay down your life for him?"  he asked sternly. Gandalf's pale eyes piercing her soul. "You must think wisely about what you want to do, young lady. Yes, it is true that I have brought you to be the one who is choosing the destiny of Durin, and I know this is a difficult decision. But why would you lay down your life for someone whose feelings are not mutual?" his words were a hard blow to (y/n), but she remained firm "what will you gain by saving them? If Thorin lives he will be king of a kingdom of dwarves, do you think there will be an opportunity for you if you survive as well? Do not judge me as cruel, I just want to open your blind eyes from an illusion whose expectatives of being fulfilled are almost nil. If Thorin becomes king he must marry a dwarrowdam, a lady of noble birth; diplomacy does not allow a human to sit on the queen's throne or let an hybrid inherit the crown" his face became sympathetic, almost paternal "think, dear (y/n), you love Thorin however you don't need to risk your life for your feelings to be returned".

By now with such crude words spilled out from Gandalf's mouth, (y/n) was already biting the inside of her cheek as helding the fat tears that yearned to fall from her eyes.

"I don't care about my feelings! If he lives, I'll go happily into the arms of death!" she exclaimed with a broken voice, "he has been one of my greatest wishes! I am willing to fulfill it at all cost!"

The dwarves found themselves drinking huge mugs of ale that accompanied the stories and jokes that were told. The atmosphere down there was happy, even Thorin kept a tiny curve in his lips that, unfortunately, fell as soon as his eyes were fixed on the person who was coming down the distant stairs in a hurry.  The dwarf King distinguished crystal drops sliding in her face. She was crying. Why was she crying? Why was her vivacity reduced to ashes? At no time in the five months that they had been sharing Thorin had seen her discouraged like that.

Without even thinking about it Thorin apologized and got up following (y/n), who had left the tavern. He didn't just go with her out of curiosity, night was falling, it was dangerous for her to be defenseless outside but he would never admit it out loud, not yet at least.

Thorin found her curled up in the barn where the ponies rested, her arms hugging her legs that kept her face hidden. He approached carefully as she quietly sobbed. Was a matter of time when Thorin felt his throat go dry as he discovered how much he hated seeing her so blue.

"(Y/n)...? " he called soft.

When he didn't obtain an answer, he preferred to take a seat next to her. Thorin gently dropped his hand on her back for support. There he stood by his side, feeling unable to formulate a word as he heard the heartbroken whimpers that made him wonder what was the reason for such sadness. And finally, after half an hour she calmed down, straightened her back and proceeded to lean against the wall of wood; her expressionless face was soaked, eyelids as reddish as her nose, yet the pained glow reflected from her orbs was the last straw for Thorin's patience.

"Who made you cry?"  he asked demandly.

"Myself," (y/n) said in a whisper "Thorin, please answer this with honesty. If you were aware that your life is shortened with each step taken ... and if you have in your hands the possibility of preventing it, would you do it? Would you try to save yourself?"

What kind of question was that?

Upon analyzing his words, Thorin was clearly desconcert.

"What are you talking about (y/n)? Is your life in danger?" 

 "Answer my question, please" she turned her face bathed in anxiety, "would you save yourself even if it means paying with what you love the most?"

"I wouldn't, living without what I love the most would be a punishment worse than death. Tell me now, what is wrong with you? Are you ill? Should I call Óin?"

(Y/n) smiled without grace, but such action was interpreted by the dwarf as the synonym of a goodbye. A bad feeling took hold of his stomach that churned at the simple idea of ​​losing her, because Mahal, it was clear than water how much Thorin appreciated her. She was his One! His true love, and if she had fallen from another world right into his arms it was because she was predestined for no one but him; she was his by right.

"Since the first time I met you in my world you became my greatest admiration, Thorin, and for that reason I would follow you further to Mandos' halls"

 "Don't say that, (y/n), I haven't …"

"I'm sorry" she interrupted getting up and wiping another fallen tear, "keep in mind that no matter how difficult the circumstances are, I will be by your side until ... until my visit to these lands is over, I promise you."

Her words were never erased from Thorin's memory.

On Raven Hill there was no noise except for the cries of a King crying disconsolately the name of his One. She was slowly perishing in his arms. The dwarf did not cry easily since his heart was made of stone, however his hardness was cracking, cracking to release the unbearable pain that he suffered when he saw that life abandoning the human's eyes.

Why? he wondered, why had she taken her place? Why had she given her life in exchange for his?

Minutes before this heartbreaking scene, a battle had unfolded between Thorin Oakenshield and Azog the defiler. The King had no other thought than defeating the orc. At no time crossed through his mind the thought of (t/n) leaving the throne room where he had demanded her to wait for his return until the war was over. Thorin thought she had listened to him, but now the misfortune of her disobedience was manifested by a reddish thread of blood that trickled from between her lips and ran down her chin, staining her shirt more than it had already caused the deep wound on her abdomen.

"Thorin ... don't cry ..." she spoke in low whispers.

"Why have you broken your word? I asked you to stay on the throne where you'd have been protected, why have you taken death for me?! You shouldn't have ...!"  Thorin broke into sobs, "you can't abandon me, don't do it, I implore you to stay with me"

"Don't you remember what I told you? I would go by your side further to Mandos' halls. I have come to Middle Earth with a purpose that I have already fulfilled, my visit is over" she smiled weakly. "I knew your destiny. Many times I begged in my world for being able to change it and give you the happiness of enjoying your effort to recover Erebor. My wish was listened, and…. " a fit of coughing interrupted her. Each second passed her voice was hard to hear" I will leave happy knowing that you can be King, Thorin…"

The dwarf never imagined that she would actually follow him to Raven Hill, that (y/n) would wait hidden in the mist and debris to impose her goal. He didn't see her coming when she leapt to get between the sharp edge that was pointing against his torso. He even had a chance to push her away from him.

"How could you be so cruel to yourself? You didn't owe me anything! Then why did you give your life for me ?! Why did you do it ?!"

 "Because ..." her eyes narrowed, already becoming opaque, "I have admired you since I read your noble feat in a book, because I fell in love as an innocent little girl night after night, the naive illusions of meeting my hero one day in person were just lovely…." she was about to die "because I grew up adoring you and… I have loved you since the first moment I met you… Tho… rin… " her voice finally trailed off.

Her eyes finally got closed. She did not speak any more.

" (Y/n) ....? (Y/n) wake up, please open your eyes givashel, wake up, open your eyes!" cried the king in despair "please come back to me! You cannot abandon me!"

The cries returned, Thorin clung to the human's body as if he wished with all his soul to become one with her. His tears fell without frenzy, drenching the face that would have loved with such devotion if fate had not unjustly taken her away from his embrace. At that moment Thorin felt alone again as when he lost his father and grandfather during the Battle of Azanulbizar. This time Fili, Kili and (y/n) joined the memories that only came to life in his head; the three partners in shenanigans slipped from his hands like souls he could never caress or see.

In war there is no victory when lives as loved as those of your family have been lost.

[shaynawrites23]

For Family Or For Love

Pairing: adult!Remus Lupin x reader

Word count: 2492

Prompts: “Are you scared of me?” “No. Never.”

“It doesn’t matter what they think. I love you, and that’s what matters.”

Written for @johnmurphyisbisexual’s writing challenge!

Special thanks to @the-moon-and-the-book for both beta reading and coming up with the title!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The heavy door to your private chambers creaked open to reveal the room’s other occupant; your husband, Remus Lupin. He carried an enormous stack of tests to grade in one hand, two cups of coffee in the other, and he held a newspaper clenched between his teeth. He shut the door the same way he opened it; with his foot.

You leapt forward to help him, taking some of the items from where they balanced precariously in his hold, constantly on the verge of falling. He breathed a sigh of thanks, pressing a kiss to your temple as you made your way to the bed.

Upon closer inspection, you realized half the papers he had brought in were actually yours. You taught Herbology and had recently assigned an essay. You hummed in gratitude when Remus handed you a pastry and a couple of colored muggle pens. You knew the older members of the faculty preferred quill and ink, but you chose pens. They were easier to use and much less tedious to maintain.

He smiled softly, humming in acknowledgement as you both sat down to mark papers. The room lapsed into silence, the only sound being the clicking of pens and the occasional mutters of disapproval when either of you saw something you didn’t particularly like.

A tapping on the window broke you out of your concentration. You spun around, eyes searching for the source of the sound when you spotted a small brown owl perched on the windowsill, rapping its beak against the glass.

A messenger owl.

You jumped up, hurrying over to fling open the window and welcome the creature inside. The poor thing was soaked through; it was pouring outside.

“Rem, will you get me a towel for the owl?”

“Sure thing, love.” He disappeared into the adjoining bathroom and emerged moments later with a navy blue towel.

You gently wrapped the owl up in the cloth, hoping it would help the animal get warm and dry.

There was a small cylindrical vessel strapped to the owl’s back, colored a deep red, like the darkest red visible during a sunset. You undid the clasps holding it in place, popping off the cap and peering inside. The case held a sheet of paper, rolled up tightly in order to make it fit.

“Who’s it from?” Remus’s gentle voice inquired.

You didn’t reply immediately, unfurling the note and letting your eyes fly over the words first.

“My parents,” you finally answered. “They want to have us over for dinner tomorrow evening.”

“That’ll be a welcome distraction from marking papers,” he remarked.

Remus was on relatively good terms with your family. They were somewhat sceptical of his background at first, but decided they would be happy as long as you were. Your father gave a very nervous and jittery Remus his blessing shortly before he proposed, and you had been happily married ever since.

You laughed. “Definitely.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When you awoke the next morning, your hand searched the bed for Remus, for his warmth. You found nothing. Only when your fingers reached the edge of the bed, the precipice between the sheets and the floor, did you open your eyes.

You blinked blearily, letting your eyes get accustomed to the light entering through the small gap between the curtains. Remus was nowhere to be seen.

Throwing on your robes, you shuffled over to the bathroom and peered inside. Where was he? He was indeed a morning person, but there was no reason for him to be up this early in the weekend.

Your incessant internal questions were soon answered when you heard the telltale creak of the heavy wooden door. Remus entered; you could tell from his hunched shoulders he was deep in thought. The dark circles under his eyes told you he had probably not slept much the past few hours.

“Rem? Remus, is everything all right?” You placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

He wouldn’t meet your eyes, simply holding up a newspaper and muttering, “See for yourself.”

So you took the paper from him, sitting on the bed as you turned the pages in an attempt to find out what exactly was troubling him so. The sound of the paper crackling under your fingers which usually held so much satisfaction for you, gave you no pleasure this time.

“Oh no.”

You now knew what it was, you knew what had upset him. The fifth page of the paper held a picture of him; it depicted him perfectly, there was no chance of anyone not recognize him. And on the off chance someone didn’t connect the dots, his name was printed right below it. The article revealed his true nature, his lycanthropy, informing everyone who didn’t yet know that Hogwarts’s Defense Against the Dark Arts professor was a werewolf.

You glanced up. Remus stood at the open window, both hands leaning on the windowsill as he looked out over the school grounds. You could tell from his posture he was incredibly worried, and he had every right to be. No one would hire a werewolf, much less send their child to a school which had one employed as a teacher.

“Remus?”

“How could this happen?” His voice cracked and you knew he was trying his very best to keep control of his emotions. “We were so careful, how is this possible?”

“I don’t know,” you murmured. “But we’ll handle this the way we always do; together.”

“There’s nothing left to handle.”

“Remus, my love, don’t give up hope. There’s always something. Perhaps my family can help; they have a well-respected name.”

He didn’t reply immediately, instead gazing out over the field where students were playing, studying, or just hanging out.

“They don’t know yet, do they?” It was not a question, more like a statement, as you both knew it to be true.

“They don’t- they didn’t,” you sighed. “But my family knows you. We’re married, for Merlin’s sake. They’re not going to shun you.”

“We shall see about that,” he muttered, straightening up nevertheless. “In the meantime, I should probably have a talk with Minnie. I’ll see you later for lunch?”

You nodded. “As always.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fastening your hairpin, you gave yourself a final once over in the mirror. You were dressed to the nines, and yet you wouldn’t classify your attire as too fancy for the occasion. Satisfied with your appearance, you exited the bathroom adjoining your shared bedroom to go look for Remus.

“Rem?” you called. “You ready to go?

You opened the door separating your bedroom from the hallway with its incredibly high ceilings, as could be expected from any old building. Your husband stood outside, leaning against the wall as he waited.

He hummed in confirmation, a soft smile spreading over his face at the sight of you. He reached for your hand, entwining his fingers with yours as he twirled you around slowly, admiration plain in his eyes. Pulling you close, he pressed his lips to yours, gingerly, as though you were the most precious treasure one could possibly imagine.

“Rem!” you laughed, “We have to go! You know my mother hates when we’re late!”

“As my lady wishes.”

With that, he waved his wand and you disapparated, reapparating right outside your parents’ large house. Walking up the cold stone steps, you felt Remus stiffen slightly, and you squeezed his hand. A comforting gesture, one he immediately returned.

The doorbell sounded loudly, chiming once, twice, three times before falling silent. You waited as quick, light footsteps approached, flinging open the door.

“Auntie (y/n)!” the young girl cried, jumping up and down in excitement. It was your young niece Ada, dressed in a pretty pink skirt and with her hair coiffed in cute, bouncy curls. “It’s auntie (y/n)!”

Another set of footsteps approached, slower and calmer than Ada’s. Your mother appeared in the doorway, smiling and greeting you and Remus as she ushered you inside.

“Dinner’s not ready yet,” she remarked casually as she returned to the kitchen, presumably to continue preparing the meal.

Little Ada remained by your side, dragging you by your hand to come look at her latest drawing. Remus still stood in the hall, but the young girl kept you so occupied you could do little more than glance at him every few minutes.

Your father and your brother soon entered, laughing loudly at what must have been an incredibly funny joke.

“Ah, (y/n)!” your father exclaimed when he spotted you sitting in a corner with Ada on your lap and a children’s book in your hand. “I see Ada’s gotten to you already.”

“Yes, she has. I didn’t remember her having this much energy the last time,” you joked, but Ada tugged on your arm to remind you you were supposed to be reading her fairytales.

“Ah, and Remus.” You couldn’t help but notice how much less enthusiastic your father’s greeting was when it was addressed to your husband.

“How’s Edward doing?” your brother cut in. “Not causing too much trouble, I hope?”

Edward was your brother’s eldest child, older than Ava by six years. He started his first year at Hogwarts that year, and your brother was rather anxious about his progress.

“He’s doing very well in his classes,” Remus replied. “Naturally, he’s pulled a couple of pranks here and there, but that is to be expected from such an energetic young lad like him.”

“I see. And no issues with… supernatural creatures?”

Your head snapped up at that. Ada whined for you to continue reading, but you simply told her to wait a moment. You were certain there was a venomous serpent hiding somewhere in your brother’s words, and when it would jump out to ambush you, someone was sure to get hurt.

Remus remained perfectly calm. “None that I am aware of. The boy’s a very talented wizard; he has proven himself very capable of defeating any creature we presented him with.”

Your brother’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, and as if struck by a lightning bolt of insight, you know this was heading downhill. It was only a matter of moments before he’d attack Remus about his lycanthropy.

You were right.

“Lupin, you’re a danger to the children! It’s not safe for them to be around you.”

“He is not!” you burst out. You stood up and stalked over to them, the fairytale long forgotten.

“He’s a werewolf.” Your brother spoke in the same tone you’d heard him use when explaining things to Ada; things that one would expect to be obvious.

“He’s also a professor, and has been for years. Nothing’s happened.”

“Maybe not yet, but that doesn’t mean it won’t happen.”

Your mother emerged from the kitchen, clearly wondering what on earth was going on. Rather than engage herself in the argument, she stood in the doorway, arms crossed and leaning against the doorframe.

Remus’s hand searched for yours, entwining his fingers with yours as soon as he found it. You noticed your brother’s gaze fly towards the gesture, as if he feared a more nefarious action. But Remus was simply holding your hand, squeezing gently as if to say, ‘calm down, love.’

“(y/n), get away from him.” Your brother’s order hung in the air like a sword dangling above both your heads, waiting to see who would give in first. Your parents seemed to want to intervene, but you could tell they didn’t know what to do.

“No.”

“Excuse me?!”

“No, I won’t.” You felt like a defiant child arguing with a parent, but that didn’t matter to you. “He’s my husband and I love him. Werewolf or not.”

“It’s okay, darling,” Remus whispered to you, tone low enough that no one else could catch his words.

“What, are you threatening her now?” Your brother was clearly beyond seeing reason, too angry to think logically.

Remus was caught off guard by that accusation, and unfortunately for him, his split second’s hesitation was plain to see. “I merely told her it was okay, that she doesn’t need to fight for my honor.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I am not in the habit of lying. I am an honest man and am telling the truth.” There was a stark contrast between your brother’s wild accusations and Remus’s calm demeanor. You only hoped it would not simply pour more oil onto the fire.

“You’re a monster,” he finally spat, as if the words themselves were pure poison. “How do we know it’s not only a matter of time before you hurt (y/n)?”

That was a low blow and you all knew it. Your mother gasped, hand flying to her mouth in shock.

“I would never hurt her.”

“Maybe you wouldn’t, but what about the wolf?”

Neither of you could answer that, both fully aware he didn’t have that much control over his other half.

“Please excuse me,” Remus muttered, glancing at your parents before grabbing his coat and leaving the building.

“There. Look what you’ve done. That was low and we all know it,” you seethed.

“(y/n), he’s dangerous! He could kill you!”

“So what? So could any other wizard. So could you, or mom. So could Ada, if she were determined enough.” You crossed your arms as you reached deep inside yourself, attempting to maintain your composure.

“But you can trust we won’t.”

“What? I can trust the same of him. He wouldn’t hurt me, I trust him.”

“So you would trust a wolf not to attack?” Your brother took two steps forward, as if his subconscious wanted to intimidate you into losing the argument. Nice try. You weren’t easily intimidated.

“He’s not a wolf! He’s Remus. My husband.”

You saw the surprise on his face when you emphasized your relationship with Remus, and you took that opportunity to continue.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have business to attend to.” With that, you stalked out as well, waiting until you disappeared behind the hedge outside to run after Remus.

He probably heard you coming, because you found him standing around the corner, as if he were waiting. The look in his eyes told you he had probably fought with himself to decide whether or not to wait for you to catch up.

“Rem, please ignore what he said. I know it’s hard, but he’s spewing nonsense.”

“Love, are you scared of me?”

“No. Never.” He had barely gotten his words out before you replied, without a moment’s hesitation.

“Your family seems to think you should be.”

“Remus, it doesn’t matter what they think. I love you, and that’s what matters.”

His eyes glistened with unshed tears. He stepped closer to you, cradling your cheek gently, as if he were afraid you’d shatter like glass if he was just slightly too rough with you.

Leaning in slowly, he captured your lips with his in a sweet kiss. And that alone conveyed all he needed to say.

“I love you too.”

taglist: @the-moon-and-the-book @decalcomanei @emcchi

[samadiw]

"BLACK MAMBA"

Part 01 🔥

This might actually turn into a lengthy fic.

.

After Voldemort's defeat, his fathers well deserved imprisonment and mother's house arrest, Draco finds himself alone without any guidance.

Living in the Manor where so much blood was shed is more than he can bear, Draco decides to leave the Magical world behind.

He desperately needs to find himself.

His mind is in a continuous state of unrest, to rid himself of the burden of his dark past he seeks refuge with The Buddhist monks of The Shaolin Temple in China.

From his many readings about the world beyond their own, Draco knew meditation was a way to calm oneself and tame inner demons.

The journey by no means is easy, but he welcomes the hardship, he deserves the cold air beating around him and sinking into his pores, he deserves the cracked lips and bloodshot eyes.

Draco quickly learns that meditation and realization of his actions is the only way that he will be set free from the heavy burden he carries.

Nightmares plague him daily, he sees many dead faces, they plead with him to help them escape persecution but he does nothing but watch helplessly from the sidelines as Voldemort slaughters them all.

Children, wizards who displeased him, magical creatures, The Dark Lord spares no one.

The Abbot is sceptical at first, he takes in the dark circles under the young wizards eyes, his ashen skin colour, thin tall frame but mostly the troubled and disturbed eyes.

It is the pain and suffering he sees swirling in the clear grey mist that convinces him to help the foreigner.

The kindly monks share their wisdom and ways of the world with him, the boy who never lifted a finger to do anything grabs hold of the broom handle and sweeps the centuries old stone stairs.

He washes empty pots and clothes till his skin is reddened and raw, he uses no magic, his wand has lost its appeal.

He finds his work oddly gratifying, the monks know his abilities, there is not much you can hide from them.

After two years of seeking refuge, the keeper of the temple requests his presence.

They drink herbal tea in silence and Draco wonders whether he has overstayed his welcome.

The Abbot starts to speak.

A : "Mr Malfoy..."

Draco flinches, it's been years since anyone referred to him by his surname.

D : "Yes..."

A : "Has your time here been beneficial, have you found the inner peace you seek?"

Draco smiles and nods.

D : "Not yet, but it is certainly getting there."

The Abbot regards Draco intently.

A : "Do you still have nightmares?"

Draco's lip trembles, he looks down in shame.

D : "Yes, there's so many people I could've helped."

The Abbot shakes his head and slowly sips the hot tea.

A : "Ah, there was little you could've done to save them."

Draco hisses through clenched teeth.

D : "I did nothing, I am a coward."

The Abott sighs.

A : "You are wrong and I have a proposal for you, young wizard."

Draco bows his head respectfully.

D : "I will do anything you ask, master."

The Abbot smiles warmly.

A : "It is my wish that you learn the ways of Kung fu."

The old man had seen the troubled youth stare at the younger monks training and learning with an intense hunger in his eyes.

Draco can barely hide his surprise, he always watched in fascination as the monks practiced diligently and even took to trying a few memorized moves in the darkness of his small room.

He bows his head again.

It is a rare privilege, the ways of Kung fu are not taught to all.

D : "You honour me."

The Abbot smiles and nods.

A : "It will aid you greatly in your journey to peace and fulfillment."

D : "Thank you, I cannot express my gratitude."

A : "In time you will be able to perform magic without the aid of a wand."

Draco raises a brow.

D : "Wandless magic?"

The Abbot does a fluid motion with his hands and a fiery ball of red appears out of thin air before them, Draco widens his eyes in shock.

A : "Yes, I will show you the way."

For the next 6 years, Draco trains, meditates and becomes one with the temple and the monks within.

He gives up all worldly needs and wants and at long last, he finally reaches the state of inner peace he craved all his life.

To everyone's surprise, the pampered boy takes to Kung fu like a fish to water, he practices day and night and in next to no time becomes a formidable opponent.

They give him the name, "Black Mamba" it's fitting as his blows are fast, accurate and deadly.

He hardly needs a wand, as his skills in martial arts improved, his magic became stronger and he was able to wield, use and bend it to his will.

The fluttering of large wings distracts Draco from his meditative state.

He reluctantly gets to his feet and let's the large owl in.

The owl is known to him, Draco strokes the majestic birds feathers and takes the sealed letter out of the owls hooked beak.

He opens the letter, his striking grey eyes take in the beautiful hand written words and blotches of ink where tears had fallen and stained the parchment.

His fingers numb, the letter falls to floor and stares at him accusingly.

Dearest Draco,

I hope this letter finds you well.

My son, your father has succumbed to his prison term in Azkaban, it is a kindness that he passed away with his mind still intact.

His funeral wasn't the lavish affair he always wanted but an intimate gathering of myself and the house elves.

I am well aware that there was no love lost between you both, but he is your father despite his shortcomings.

I need you, Draco.

There is much about the family business and Manor that I do not understand and none to trust with it.

It is time for you to come home.

Love always,

Your mother.

Draco closes his eyes, his hands ball into fists at his side and a dark blue hue surrounds his clenched fist.

The magic in his blood rises to the surface and surrounds him whole.

His many demons put to rest, Draco opens his eyes with renewed purpose.

He was no longer the aimless, helpless boy that arrived at the Temple gates, he was now a 26 year old man with much to offer the world.

Mother was right, it was time to return.

[e-one-seven]

(I hate being a literature student. Just know that literature students have a bad habit of over-analyzing stuff, and apparently D&D games are not exceptions.)

Normally I don't talk about ships. I think that everybody is free to ship whoever character they want with who they want and I am no one to judge them. Especially if the characters in question are from a live role playing game and one of the ships in question involves a couple controlled by a couple who is married IRL. But this one. Oh boy. Laura Bailey is an absolute beast and she deserves all the respect in the world if even a fraction of what I think it's happening/going to happen will effectively happen in game.

Fjord kissed Jester. He asked for her permission and he got it. It was beautiful. And I am genuinely freaking out because I knew that was going to happen and it's even worse than I imagined it. Why am I talking about it like it is something bad? Because it's possible that Jester is not ready to be in a relationship right now, and that Jester herself is not aware of it. Let's talk about it from the beginning.

Jester likes Fjord from the beginning of the campaign, we all know that. When Jester met Fjord for the first time, she was a sheltered girl who, in her head, just met the perfect man: a proud and strong sailor who wants to live an adventurous life just like the heroes of her novels, and she easily identified herself as the heroine the hero will inevitably fall in love with. They meet the rest of the Nein, live on their adventures and Jester keeps on acting like she is the Guinevere of her personal love story inside her head, while Fjord is blissfully unaware of what is happening inside the skull of his new friend.

Then Fjord meets Avantika, a mature woman who seems to share many traits and interests with him. Jester is clearly jealous, especially after that they sleep together to seal their alliance. That is also the moment when Jester starts to see Fjord's flaws and she seems to be willing to accept them, which is actually a point in favor for a possible relationship between them. But Fjord is still unaware of what the special attention of the blue tiefling actually means.

Then she meets a real married couple, and she starts to realize that romance is not always like she imagined it was. Nott/Veth and Yeza are married and have a child, and they are not as dependent to each other like the heroes of her novels: Nott does her own things and she is a strong independent woman and Yeza is pretty much the same, they are not allowed to be as intimate as they used to be because of "Nott's condition", but they still love and support each other through and through. And at this point, Jester starts to notice that there is a member of the Mighty Nein that seems to show her that unconditional love and support that Nott and Yeza radiate with every action: Caleb Widogast.

Caleb used to be a stinky wizard, a brash individual who joined the group just because he was too squishy to survive on his own. But ever since they are in Xhorhas, he cleaned himself, he is kinder with everyone and he wants to help her organize the Traveler Con even if the event has nothing to do with him directly. Jester is visibly touched by his newfound beauty and kindness. But he still loves Astrid. He called Jester with her name when they danced together in Hupperdook. And he seems to be interested in Essek Thyless too, so she is probably imagining it. The Mighty Nein travel, grow more powerful, and Fjord manages to set himself free from Uk'utoa's influence and becomes a Paladin of the Wildmother. He finally becomes more similar to the hero Jester imagined he was when he met him for the first time, but she seems to be only minimally bothered by his change. She needs time to think because she feels that something is changing inside her. Fjord might not be the right one after all. Caleb is always there for here with all his support, and she starts to want to be there for him.

Eventually, they stop the war, they defeat a fire god and Caleb sets up wonderful magic and illusions so that the Traveler Con is a success. But then, during the last night of the gathering, something happens and Sehanine, the Moonweaver herself is angry. She is taking Artagan away, and Jester is willing to follow him in the Feywild and share his punishment... but Fjord grabs her and begs her not to go. She has still the Mighty Nein, she has still him. For the first time Fjord is being explicit about his feelings for her. Luckily everything goes well and the Mighty Nein are free to come back to Wildemount... Where she finds out about Caleb's past and his intent to save his friend Eadwulf and his former lover Astrid from Trent Ikithon. They go dance again, Caleb pushes her in Fjord's arms, and the half-orc gives her a present. There is definitely something. But there is Caleb too, but he is too busy trying to deal with his demons to pay attention to her.

Jester meets Astrid and she antagonizes her. She is jealous, she thinks that Astrid is Caleb's ideal woman and she realizes they are not alike at all. She is a talented and ambitious wizard, while she is just Jester, the cleric of an Archfey. Astrid is just like Essek, and Caleb is attracted by Essek. Jester understands if Caleb doesn't like her after all: why should he be interested into a childish cleric whose power is not even her own? They are just very good friends. That's all. He should be back with Astrid and she will support him if that will happen once that she will be free from Trent Ikithon's influence. But Caleb is still so kind, and loving, and supportive... she is really confused about it. But he is kind and loving with all of his friends, so in the end it might not be important.

And then, there is Eiselcross with its weird ancient magic. A magic as dangerous as the one they found in the Happy Fun Ball, which contained a Blue Dragon and a trap that managed to kill Nott without them being able to prevent it. Everything is dangerous and the Mighty Nein realize as the time passes by that not everyone of them could get out of there alive, especially given what and who they are trying to stop. And Jester herself falls into a trap: she is given a vision that confirms to the Mighty Nein that what they feared is true, that the Tomb Takers' objective is to bring an eldritch floating city scary enough to cause a Morkoth into voluntary exile back to Exandria, where it intends to absorb its inhabitants into its hive mind. The price to pay for the vision are 5 years of her life. "Growing old" is different than "growing up", and it happens to her in a matter of seconds. Jester is five years closer to death now, and it is possible that she is lucky they are just five. The minor changes in her appearance are a reminder of what it could have happened if she wasn't lucky, and she has no idea about what else changed about herself and what will change in her personal life and relationships because of that accident. All she knows right now is that these might be her last days alive and she is afraid she might be missing something before her untimely death.

(And she would not be silly to think about it. After all, who they are facing is reminding all of the Mighty Nein that even if they are becoming powerful they are still mortal beings.)

And when she is in the middle of a mild existential crisis and confusion reigns inside her head, Fjord declares. And Jester, still willing to believe that she is her old self, the young woman who left Nicodronas and miraculously met the man of her dreams that will lead her to live an exciting life full of love and adventures, accepts to kiss him. It is very likely that she was not thinking about anything in that moment, but one thing: "If I say yes to Fjord it means that I am still me, right? It is happening because it was supposed to happen from the beginning, because we were supposed to be together."

There is just one little problem: Jester is ignoring the fact that she has changed from the person she used to be back then, and it did not happen because a group of stone statues magically aged her up. There is still something for Fjord, she will never forget him as he is and he will always be her first love. But she has some feelings for Caleb too, and even if she is "a good liar" they might be too strong for her to simply ignoring them. After all, Caleb "I was trained to lie and kill for the Empire" Widogast did an excellent job when he was trying to hide them. There are some clues here and there that hint that Jester might love Caleb as much as he loves her and that she wants him to be happy, even with other people... just like he wants it for her. Add the trauma she is just starting to deal with, and there is almost no way that her current relationship with Fjord is going to evolve into something healthy and angst free right now. This if that kiss was the effective beginning of a serious relationship, and not the promise of a future relationship between them if she will be still available. 

But these are the vibes that the beginning of a relationship between them is giving to me right now, and nothing will be confirmed until Laura Bailey will show up to Talks Machina to talk about it. I am also curious about how she will react when she will see Essek again: when the stakes were not high she used to tease him to be with Caleb... but now she has met Astrid, she might have feelings for him and being in a relationship with another person, and Caleb states that he doesn't trust him. I guess that if she still does, it will be mostly an attempt to show to everyone that nothing changed for her and that she is fine (and that would be a huge step back into her character development, but it was her defense mechanism until the Rumblecusp arc and she is dealing with a lot of serious stuff all together right now).

I'm not saying that the ship is going to die: I'm saying that because of the circumstances behind how it was made official and the relationship between all the character involved, I would say that it is very likely that it will lead to some cute moments, but that it eventually won't last. This is especially true if it will confirmed that Jester has feelings for Caleb too, as feelings for another person are not easy to get rid off, and I am fully expecting Jester to angst and talk to someone about them at some point. She needs to achieve true clarity and accept that she is going to break someone's heart in order to be in a healthy, happy relationship. Because, let's face it, we all imagined Jester would have been much happier if she'd ever entered into a relationship, shouting about it out loud so that everyone know. There is something weird here. So, or either the kiss is a promise, or Jester's heart is not fully into it and this means trouble.

But yes, Laura Bailey promised us that she would have romanced Travis's character and she is doing it. And whatever it will be the final result, she is still a legend for having achieved the impossible once more.

PS: Obviously this post in the end means nothing, as no one owns and knows the full truth behind the intent of these characters but the actors who control them. I just wanted to give my two cents about the question. It's more likely that this development will prevent Jester to suffer from a mental breakdown in Eiselcross instead of causing her to suffer from one, but I tend to over-analyze stuff. Please forgive me for this.

PS2:  As a final note, it would have been the same even if Caleb would have been in Fjord's place, if not even worse: I wrote a post about Caleb in Eiselcross too, and between him and Jester I have no idea of who is the most messed up at the moment. Poor children...

[misterewrites]

Cheers from Newton Haven ( Mirror’s Edge)

Hey everyone E here with a surprising amount original works. haha so you can blame my good friend @hains-mae for this because she enabled me. So long story short I love writing. I love creating ideas, story plots, characters all that jazz. Often there's a lot of leftovers that i put away in word document just so I have stuff to work with or ideas i can use later. Most of the time I might write something just to get it out of my system but it usually just ends up gathering dust in my computer.

I've been getting more into modern urban fantasy stories and watching the unsleeping city which is a modern dnd show (highly recommend it. first season's free on youtube over at the dimension 20 channel) and naturally I wanted to write some so here we go.

I don't know how often I'll be writing this because this accidentally became my side project whenever I need a break from the underground but who knows might turn into another big layered project.

so basic summary is there are a group of friends, associates, reluctant allies, organizations and frenemies who work together to keep the peace of the supernatural world in check and to ensure it remains secret to everyone else while living their lives as best as they can. Today's chapter includes Finnrick Drift a private investigator wizard and his best friend Casey Remington, cleric of the hearth

that's it for me. have a great week! stay safe, take care of each other. wear your mask, wash your hands, get the vaccine if you can and I'll see you soon!

and if you wanna an easier place to read and leave me some good old comments or reviews you find the chapter right here https://archiveofourown.org/works/30599756/chapters/75486005

Not gonna lie i promised I’d try to promote myself more and it’s weird. it feels so weird. haha 

It was a busy Friday afternoon in Midtown. People in designer named suits and dresses bustled across the sidewalks in all directions, too caught up in last minute phone calls or sudden late night work orders to notice anything else. The buildings that scraped the bottom of the sky were clean with a fresh coat of paint and maintenance, a testimony to the wealth and power that was found here.

So naturally Casey felt as out of place as fish out of water in his purple baseball jersey and black shorts just standing outside some fancy restaurants doors with his friend.

“Finny” Casey started awkwardly, his sea green eyes darting back and forth awkwardly “Any reason we’re out here being creepy? I got a Neighborhood Watch meeting at like 6.”

Finnrick or Finny as Casey referred to him, was no better dress than he was for the environment. A long black trench coat that was more stitching than fabric, a matching frayed faded fedora sitting comfortably on his head. He wore a nice collared dark red shirt tucked in a black vest but even that felt cheap and tacky compared to the thousands of dollars worth of clothing that passed them on the street every second. At least his black dress pants were dark enough to hide the patch up jobs and naturally the only kept squeaky clean were his loafers.

Finnrick sucked on the thin white stick for a moment before speaking up “I’m debating if it’s worth the trouble. I didn’t realize you had a meeting tonight.”

“Well we always meet up on the fifth. You know talking about treaties, clean up jobs, if any undead hordes have been spotted. My birthday cake.”

“Ah shit” Finnrick rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, his dark brown eyes apologetic “It’s your birthday? Did you want to go? I think I can handle it alone.”

Casey lifted the hat off Finnrick’s head and playfully ruffled his already messy black hair “You getting old Finny. My birthday is the tenth.”

Finnrick waved off his assault “I’m six months younger than you.”

“But” Casey gestured to the smattering of sliver streaks in Finn’s hair “You look older.”

“At least I don’t look like I’m 15. Dude you need a haircut. Everyone here thinks you’re a hippie.”

“A good looking hippie.” Casey gave a dramatic shake, his wavy dark brown hair flowing in the breeze.

The pair burst out laughing, doubling over trying to catch their breath as the business suits eyed them distastefully.

“Alright, let’s get this over with.” Finnrick made his way over, smiles and charm as they approached the doorman.

“Your cigarette sir.” The doorman spoke dully.

Finnrick pulled out the now finished lollipop “Don’t smoke but done anyway.”

The doorman gestured to the nearby trashcan but Finnrick opt to tuck it away in coat pocket. Disgusted but professional, the doorman gave strained smile as he allowed them entry into the building.

Casey nudged Finnrick curiously “Wizards? Warlocks? God not druids.”

“Probably. This is guy doesn’t have an ounce of magic in him but I wouldn’t doubt he’s got some casters on the payroll. Try not to leave anything behind.”

“I’m a freaking walking carpet here!”

“That” Finnrick grinned playfully “Is why you need haircut.”

Casey gave a fake snarl “Shut up and call the elevator.”

Finnrick whistled, amused by the near silence of the opening doors “Such fance. Barely a sound.”

“So what’s the plan?”

Finnrick scratched the little bush of hair he had on his chin thoughtfully “Ask some questions. Probably get no answers. Be threatened more than likely.

Casey cracked the tension in his neck “Think it’s gonna get ugly?”

“Depends on how many witnesses.”

The two made their way to the seventh floor, the elevator smoothly slowing to a stop before the doors opened with a ding. Two burly men in suits were waiting, flanked on either side as they gestured to an empty restaurant dining room.

“The boss will like to speak to you.”

Finnrick and Casey shared a look.

“Sure!” Finnrick beamed cheerfully, patting both the brutes arms as he passed “I was hoping to talk to him anyway.”

The men growled in annoyance but did nothing as Casey and Finnrick made their way to the center talk, unsurprised to find two glasses of wine waiting for them.

“After you” Finnrick joked, pulling out Casey’s chair for him.

Casey gave a mocking smile “Such a gentleman.”

“Only one I bet” Finnrick whispered before taking his seat.

Casey could hear the low hissing of whatever spells were on their chairs being dispelled.

Yep there was going to be trouble.

Casey eyed the room carefully in search for options: The room itself was pretty dark, dark reddish walls with dim lights to set the mood. Most of the tables had been left alone for whatever event this room was scheduled for later with the chairs stacked in the corner. A few feet to their left was the bar, unmanned but well stocked and a window to the outside nearby.

“Well, well, well!” A voice called out from some shadowy part of the room “Who do I have the pleasure of meeting this fine Friday afternoon?”

Finnrick rose to his feet, politely motioning to himself and Casey “My name is Fredrick and this is my friend Charles.”

The man’s hazel eyes shone with suspicion “No last names?”

“Of course” Finnrick grin “But there’s no need for friends, right? We are friends Robert?”

Robert paused, a barely contained rage shimmering just under the surface. His slicked back graying hair and tailored perfect dark blue suit were signs of a precise, irrational control. This was a man that was never told what to do and considered himself above everyone and anyone.

“Of course.” He answered a moment too late. He was not happy. “Of course. What are polite manners among friends?”

“Thanks Bobby!” Finnrick gave a friendly wink before retaking his seat.

Robert fumed but followed Finnrick’s example as a trio of secret service wannabes took their spots across the room: Inhumanly beautiful men with dark suits and shades. Something was off about them but Casey couldn’t put his finger on it.

“What do I owe the pleasure Freddy?” Robert sneered, hoping to see how Finnrick a taste of his own medicine.

“Well Bobby.” Finnrick went on, purposely ignoring the older man’s jab “As you know you have been stealing countless money from your employees.”

Robert chuckled darkly “I am afraid wherever you have been getting this claim is very misinformed. I am a simple, honest businessman.”

Finnrick nodded in agreement “Of course. Of course. That’s how you can say that with a straight face. Honest businessman of mundane practices.”

Casey felt his hair on his arm stand on end as the atmosphere in the room tensed. The brutes growled unhappily, the trio of bodyguards shifted uneasily and Robert’s eyes shone with understanding.

“I see.” He spoke simply “You’re from the other side.”

“Naturally.” Finnrick confirmed “No need to peer around the bush, is there?”

“No need at all. It is refreshing for such transparency. You don’t get that often in the world of business.”

“I doubt you give much either Mister Walker.”

“Enough games. What are you doing here? Some kind of union rep for magical freaks? Blackmailing me?”

Finnrick sat up with pride “Private investigator. Building a case against you actually.”

Robert carefully studied both men before him, trying to piece together their plan, their angle.

“Either.” He spoke after a few moments “You have all you need or more than likely you have nothing and you are simply here to smoke me out, hoping I will give you something to use against me.”

Casey felt Finnrick’s hand move underneath the table and a rush of chilly air brushed his leg.

Casey gave a quick nod to let Finn know he understood.

Finnrick cleared his throat “You’re aware of the works of Tolkien Mister Walker?”

Robert was caught off guard “What?”

“Elves.” Finnrick answered with a calming voice “Elves are the most famous of his characters that aren’t humans of course but there’s more: Elves, dwarves...”

“Hob…” Robert began but Finnrick cut him off.

“That’s a legal matter but yes. Wonderfully fantastic creatures.”

Robert narrowed his eyes “And?”

Finnrick leaned in close, smile mocking and cold “I hate when people take advantage of them.”

Robert was a cold, calculating heartless man who was used to being the smartest one in the room. The one who rigged the playing field in his favor, held every ace in his hand and led his prey exactly where he wanted them to be. He played with people before he destroyed their hope. He was the apex predator in the world of business.

It was satisfying to see that swagger and pride drain out of his face.

The businessman went for the button hidden underneath his side of the table, no doubt the switch to trigger the holding spells on Casey and Finnrick’s chairs. Of course Finnrick had dispelled them first chance he got and since the only other caster in the room was Casey, no one else noticed.

Robert’s face was the second most beautiful thing Casey had ever seen (first being Jaime but there was no need to tell her that). The panic, the fear, the utter confusion. Just poetic justice at its finest.

Finnrick shot to his feet with a surprising speed given his unremarkable build. He muttered the words of power, a magical incantation as his hand made the proper gestures to complete the spell.

The shades squad went for their weapons but Finnrick had gotten the drop on all of them. He pulled his hand back, a burning flame sitting peacefully in his palm. He pitched the flame forward, lobbing directly at the closet goon. The inhumanly beautiful man rose his arms to defend himself in time. The flame, mostly pressurized air, splashed over him harmlessly as the force of the attack shoved him back into the wall.

Casey followed Finn’s example. He stood as well (not as quick as his friend), a soft gentle light glowing from his hands. He glanced at the two remaining shades and aimed directly for them. A bolt of pure light burst forth from his palms. One goon got a chest full of holy energy and skidded backwards but the other was ready. He leapt to the side and narrowly avoided the attack as he slid out of sight.

The brutes charged towards the pair, murder in their eyes. Finnrick barely spared them a look as he snapped his finger. The two flames sigils he had imprinted om them when he grabbed their arms ignited, twin fires eating at their sleeves and sending them into a panic.

“What’s the plan?” Casey shouted, sending more holy bolts towards the shades.

“Up and over the counter.” Finnrick answered, tossing another fireball.

Casey quickly made his way closer, prepping to leap over the bar when Finnrick crashed into him, a strange whistling sound piercing his ears one moment then silent the next.

“Over buddy over!” Finnrick repeated, grabbing Casey by the collar and heaving him ontop of the counter. Casey flailed for a moment before glancing backwards. Finnrick was right behind him, hand outstretched as a blue translucent field of protective magic hung before the two while the shades opened fire with crossbows, the jet black bolts barely visible in the dimness of the room. They bounced harmlessly off the barrier but Casey could see the cracks starting to form.

Casey hopped over the bar gracelessly, struggling for a moment before clearing the jump. Finnrick tucked himself backwards, allowing himself to roll over the counter top and land on the other side with a thud.

“Remember when elves were honorable?” Casey huffed, quickly scanning the various bottles.

Finnrick scoffed “They were never honorable. They just acted better than everyone.”

“Remember when we were kids?”

“Vaguely. Pass the absinthe. I want to really make this hurt.”

“Blue bottle? These are all in German and Russian.”

“Green liquid. Come on Case I taught you better.”

“Right. I miss when the cartoons used to tell us the mafia was honorable.”

“Criminals these days.” Finnrick shook his head disappointingly “Just don’t make them like they used to. It’s all corporate shit.”

Casey began picking other bottles at random, wrapping them tightly with the tape he brought “It’s disillusioning I tell you. How right is he?”

Finnrick smashed a pane of glass. He took the jagged edge and slowly inched it over the counter, catching sight of the trio of shades for a moment before a crossbow bolt shattered the glass.

He flexed his hand, trying to relax his muscles. They were elves alright. They might be dressed in suits and ears hidden by some sort of glamour illusion magic but old habits died hard. Elves habits never died given their long lives. The trio had fallen into a close knit triangle formation: one fires, one reloads with the last taking aim.

“He had this whole operation locked tight. No one was talking. Either bribed them or made an example of them. Broken bones or horns. I had enough evidence to implicate him but bringing him to trial in the mundy court was going to be pointless.”

Casey moved the bottles back and forth to ensure they wouldn’t come loose midair “So what are we doing here?”

“Given his limited knowledge and the numerous magical violations I counted in this building alone, I figured he’s not registered with the Council.”

Casey’s eyes lit up in understanding “Gotcha. How long we got?”

Finnrick shook his hand back and forth “I’d say 10 minutes knowing the Council. Magic in an unregistered area requires a subtler approach for them. “

Casey snorted “Fake beards and stilts for the gnomes you mean? Robert will be gone by then.”

Finnrick’s face scrunched in concentration “He’s still here. Cowering under the table. He’s not used to dangerous wizards up in his face. Let’s scare him put huh?”

Casey spared his friend a glance “Big shot?”

Finnrick nodded in agreement “Aim high Case.”

And with a synchronicity only achieved through years of friendship, the two stood up at once. Casey threw the makeshift bomb high into the air as Finnrick formed the magical shield once more. Arrow after arrow bounced harmlessly off its surface as the bottles sailed through the air. Finnrick focused directly in the center of the payload. The shield dropped but the elves had broken formation and were all reloading at once. Finnrick pinched his thumb and finger together, murmuring under his breath. A small spark of flame fluttered wildly on his finger. He flicked it as quickly as he could towards the bottles. The spark spun and twisted as it floated towards the payload. The spark expanded, growing in size, and intensity, rapidly without warning. The air warmed as the spark exploded, smashing the bottles and engulfing the alcohol within. Flaming liquid, glass and hot air shot out in every direction. The elves were blasted off their feet and crashed against the far wall with sickening series of crunches. The floor above now had a massive hole in it and the brutes sprawled across the floor. Robert himself was thrown onto the ground, ash and soot covering his face as he struggled to breath.

He tried to call for someone but his ears were ringing and everyone was down for the count. He tried to search for the trouble makers but the smoke that filled the room was too thick.

The elevator dinged open once more and three pale suits came scuttling out. They clung to the walls on all fours, unnatural and repulsive. Their blood red eyes shone in the dimly light room, their fangs barred and ready for blood.

“Vampires!” Casey rubbed his eyes tiredly “This fucker has vampires. Loose by the way.”

“Right?” Finnrick shook his head “There are just so many regulations being violated right now.”

The vampires did not care. They dropped to the floor, gliding effortlessly midst the smoke and flame.

Casey took a step closer to the encroaching undead. He outstretched one hand towards them while the other clasped his necklace tightly. The vampires tilted their head quizzically at the symbol that adored the chain: It was a house of all things, a simple shape of rectangles and triangles no different than what a child would draw.

The vampires chuckled, their eyes bright with hunger.

Of course in their bloodlust they had forgotten something important: It was not the symbol but the faith behind it that was their bane.

Casey held the symbol as high as he could. The vampire shrunk away from him as his eyes blazed with holy energy, the symbol of home glowing with a harsh light. The vampires barred their fangs as a symphony of noises overwhelmed their senses: the soft hum of an air conditioner, footsteps thundering about, the chill of winter, the heat of summer, the overlapping sounds of cars and buses as the roar of crowds boomed in their ears. The city, the hearth of so many people, filled this room for a moment.

The vampires drew back, white smoking curling off their charring flaky skins. They ducked back into the elevator, hiding in whatever corner they could manage until the doors shut with a satisfying ding.

“Come on” Finnrick gestured to the window “I don’t want to be written up for unauthorized magic in an unregistered area.”

Casey and Finnrick scampered to the window. Casey’s face turned a sickly green when he realized how high up they were.

“Ugh I don’t feel good.” his stomach churned queasily.

Finnrick broke the window with his elbow, the fresh smoggy air of the city bringing some color back into Casey’s cheeks “I know buddy but it’s only eight floors up.”

“I hate you so much right now.”

“Okay cool jump now!”

Robert regained enough sense to see the troublemakers leap out the window without hesitation. He struggled to his feet when flickers of something began to form. Before he knew what was going on, the previously empty room was now filled with various creatures: Elves, dwarves, a gnome on silts had appeared out of thin air. They weren’t dress in any ancient medieval garb but rather dark blue jackets, jeans and combat boots with the initials M.R.R.D stitched on their clothing. They were no different than any one on the street aside their more unique physical features.

“M.R.R.D!” the gnome cried out, brandishing a strange clockwork pistol “Everyone freeze! We sensed a magical disturbance and a violation of the Arcane Veil!”

Robert rose to his full height “I am Robert Walker and I…”

The gnome opened fire and Robert could feel exhaustion overtake him. Sleepiness began to ebb at his resolve and before he could mutter another word, he closed his eyes. A dreamless sleep until he woke up in a council prison cell a few hours later.

-----

Casey didn’t scream as he fell through the air. He was too busy trying to keep his lunch in his stomach.

Finnrick waited a moment to make sure everything was in place and with a wave of his hand, the two began to fall much slower. They landed on their feet as if they had taken a step off the sidewalk instead of several stories up.

Casey began hyperventilating, trying his best to get his stomach settled. Finnrick began fanning his face when a man walked up to him.

Casey and Finnrick said nothing, waiting for the Arcana Veil to fill in any blanks they were missing. They could’ve told this man anything but they found from experience that it was just easier to roll with whatever the magical blanket that separated the mundane world from the magical decided.

The man peered at them, his gaze unsure and confused.

“Hey, you guys okay?” he asked helpfully.

Casey and Finnrick remained silent.

His eyes glazed over for a moment, a strange shimmering sheen within his pupils telling the duo that the veil was in effect.

“You guys are oddly dressed for window washers.” the man chuckled.

Finnrick glanced back to find a ghostly image of an electrically operated scaffold behind them, water buckets and squeegees included.

They shared a look.

“Would you believe it’s national window washer day?” Casey filled in.

Finnrick added “Yeah, they let us wear whatever want today. It’s only one day out of the year anyway and most of the time we work by ourselves so no harm done.”

the man nodded like that was the most reasonable thing he had ever heard “Right sorry. I’ll just be on my way.”

Finnick and Casey ducked out of the alleyway behind him, heads low and nonchalant as the human M.R.R.D members began to shut down the restaurant from the outside.

“Well that sucked.”

“Just a little. Here let’s go some dinner on me.”

“Damn straight on you Finny. Brutes, elves, vampires?”

“Oh my.”

“Now I’m ordering extra bread for that.”

[thegodshavehorns]

Come Into My Parlor (5/5)

Chapter 5: Tentacle Therapist Slumber Rumpus

The spring draws to a close, and you go home without seeing Vriska again.

Your mother is as she always has been, seesawing between near-manic workaholism and decrepit insobriety. She buys you a new, top-of-the-line laptop. You leave her bitterly to her self-destruction.

You spend most of the boreal summer reading supernatural romances, riding Maplehoof through the woods, and talking with your online friends about everything except your shared fate. You are introduced to John. You knit yourself a new set of mittens for Antarctica, as your old ones have gotten a little small.

-------

You avoid speaking Vriska's name. You know she'll come on her own if she wants to, but you're not anxious to accelerate the process. As much as you'd like to have closure on what, exactly, her intentions are, you are also a little apprehensive. You are not sure if she was being serious or not, and if she was, you are not sure if you reciprocate, or even if you can reciprocate. How can you be sure? What is 'pale' supposed to feel like to a human? Perhaps you should have asked that Archangel, while you had the chance.

It's a bit of a shock when she appears on your doorstep in the middle of a rainstorm, but you also can't say you haven't been expecting her. Thank gods (well, thank her, you suppose) that your mother is working late.

"So, gonna let me in?" She smiles at you, hair and clothing sopping wet, and it's not even a predatory grin. She's significantly shorter and slighter than usual.

You step back, and she steps in, boots squelching. Her outfit is not one of the the form-fitting black getups that you've seen her in before, but rather baggy and grayish, almost like sweatpants. No sign of her sigil. She glances around the foyer, at the chandelier and the plush carpets and the huge wizard statue. Judging solely by appearances, she doesn't look a day over fifteen. "Fancy digs. Can't say the decor is quite my taste."

"Digs?" You finally find your voice as you shut the door.

"Isn't that the thing mortals say now? 'Digs?' Like it's, I don't know, a fucking burrow?" She's dripping on the marble floors.

"Surely," you swallow. "Surely you could have carried an umbrella? Or a raincoat? Or do you enjoy getting drenched? We get thunderstorms often here, you know."

She grins and brushes a sodden lock of hair behind an ear. "Oh, silly me, I must have... forgotten to bring one."

"Forgot to bring one in the infinitely large, yet portable, pocket dimension to which you alone have access."

"Right. Oops!"

You cross your arms and let the silence drag on a moment. The goddess continues to drip.

"Why are you here?" Your voice is softer than it had been a moment ago. "This is my time off. I don't have any more information on Eridan. "

Her black lips purse. "I didn't want any."

In truth, you hadn't really thought she did. You let out a long sigh. "You should dry off before the floor becomes dangerously slippery. Come on, we have towels in the bathroom."

She grins. "Sounds... comfortable."

You're not sure what to make of the emphasis she put on 'comfortable'. You're not sure what to make of any of this. She's not here to make you spy on Eridan. She's not here to exchange questions. What does she want from you?

Once at the hall bathroom, she touches the towels, frowning. "Don't you have any more than this?"

You blink, surprised. "Ah, yes, in the closet. This isn't enough?"

"I'll need more than this." At your expression, which could be metaphorically compared to a wild game animal in headlights, she adds, "I'm soaked."

You go to the closet, leaving the goddess to her own devices, and grab as many towels as you can hold, mounding them in your arms. You don't think she'll destroy your house while you're not looking, but you're a little on edge.

"Okay," you sigh in exasperation, returning to the bathroom. "Here's all the towels we-"

"Perfect!" Vriska grabs the towels from your hands, and drops them unceremoniously on the floor on top of the first set of towels, which had been treated likewise. She flops down on the pile of towels, crossing her legs and folding her hands behind her head.

You stare. She's completely dry, dressed in what looks like a white nightgown and blue pajama bottoms with a spiderweb motif. She looks so young she could have been one of your old classmates from the Academy. It's eerie.

"I was thinking," she says cheerfully. "That we could have a slumber party."

You stare at her, a twisting, tingling sensation rising up your throat, and you don't bother holding it back.

You burst out laughing. You double over, knees weak, and grab the bathroom doorframe for support. This is ridiculous, undignified, what are you doing here? How did this become your life?

"I don't see what's so funny," Vriska mutters, sitting up and crossing her arms. "Isn't this a normal thing humans do?"

You try to compose yourself, wiping tears from your eyes. You haven't laughed like this in a long time. "It is, it's just- it's such a normal thing, but I - you're not normal. Neither am I! You're a god, and I will be, and it's not normal, and you come in here acting like we're old friends, and why are you making yourself look like a teenager?" You take a few calming breaths and straighten up, starting to get yourself back under control. "Are you trying to get me to let my guard down?"

She blinks at you, eyes wide and blue. Her mouth twists. "No, it's not that."

"Then what?"

Vriska frowns, looks away. "Maybe there's no big reason. Maybe I just want to paint my nails and shoot the breeze and relax in a non-godly way, once in a while. And maybe it's hard to find someone else to relax that way with. Maybe instead of questioning it, you should be flattered." The goddess crosses her arms.

You sit down and cross yours as well, mirroring her pose. "Relax? Lady Vriska "Irons in the Fire" Serket? You're surely joking."

"Well, I'm full of surprises!" she snaps. "Now let's do each other's hair or get makeovers or something."

You raise an eyebrow. "Apparently. Well, you should know that I've never had a traditional slumber party, per se, but I am aware of the cultural script. And makeovers are no doubt a better option than 'truth or dare.'"

Vriska snorts. "Yeah, you're not stupid."

You set up in your room, kicking your diary under the bed as you arrange cushions for you to sit on the comforter. Vriska insists on bringing the heap of towels as well, though their purpose still eludes you.

As Vriska adds her towels to your arrangement, you go into your mother's room. You haven't bothered with makeup since your preteen dabbling with black lipstick, but you have no shame in raiding your mother's vanity. Blue would look good on Vriska, you think.

Upon returning, you see that the Thief of Light has perched herself atop a considerable-sized jumble of sheets and cushions, which is in turn piled on top of your bed. Before you can remark on this arrangement, she speaks:

"Remember how we met?"

"I could not possibly forget," you reply. "Vriska, why-"

"I didn't make a great first impression, did I?" Vriska's expression seems distant. "Since I was plastered with happy honey. It was pretty pathetic of me, wasn't it?" She smiles, sadly, and gestures towards the mess on the bed. "Join me?"

With some trepidation, you climb into the pile of upholstery. She turns away from you. "Do my hair?"

Strange as it seems, this is your life now. You might as well go along with it. "...How do you want it?"

"I don't care at all."

So, with both of you sitting cross-legged on the bed, you braid the Thief of Light's hair into pigtails. Her wavy locks are thicker and stiffer than human hair, and they feel almost rough to the touch, a contrast to their silken appearance. Still, her hair is long, not like yours, and you can braid it as you've never braided your own. There's something satisfying in that.

"Yes, you were pathetic," you agree, after a taking the time to consider. "But that's okay. There... probably aren't very many other people my age who know how to deal with drunks as well as I do."

"Hm." You can't see Vriska's expression, but she doesn't sound elated to hear that. "But, I still should have tried to make a better impression. I let my grudge against Eridan get away with me, and I acted like a scrub."

You're not entirely sure what the 'look' you're going for is, with these pigtails. Canadian lumberjane? Farmhouse-chic? Wednesday Adams? Maybe you could make her up as Dorothy Gale in The Wizard of Oz. The blue eyeshadow you stole would go nicely.

"Actually," you reply, "I didn't mind that much. I have a generally low opinion of gods in general. Your intoxicated state didn't do much to affect that." You pause, your hands stopping their motion as well and dropping down. Then you continue, your tone softer. "I minded it more when Eridan shot you."

Vriska's shoulders tense. "Well," she says, after a moment. "That doesn't matter much to me. It... wasn't the first time. But I'm sorry that you had to see it. It was probably unpleasant, to see death like that."

To your infinite surprise, she sounds sincere. "Yes," you say. "Although 'unpleasant' is rather an understatement."

Her hair is so thick, your fingers vanish into it, completely obscured in the black. If you squint, it almost looks like your hands are vanishing into tendrils of eldritch darkness.

"What did Eridan do to bother you so much?" you ask.

Vriska's head tilts downward slightly. "Nothing, really. He didn't do anything, personally."

You affix a clip-on bow with a cartoon pony decal to the goddess' hair, for no reason other than because it amuses you. Then, you tap on her bony shoulder and hand her a small mirror. "Done. So, what was it, then?"

Vriska blinks at her reflection in the mirror. Then, very suddenly, her expression scrunches up. "I killed someone," she says.

A year ago, you would have deadpanned back: "Is that really newsworthy?" and it's a testament to your maturity, or your tact, or your budding friendship, or something, that you don't. Instead, you quiet, and she turns around to face you on the linen pile. You listen.                                                                                    

"Someone I liked. Someone who didn't deserve such a bad break." She sighs, puts down the mirror, curls up her legs, and leans her forehead against her knees. "This is stupid. Why am I telling you this?"

You have the same question, frankly, but instead you just nod. "Do you normally feel this way about killing?"

Vriska's face snaps up. "No! That's the thing! I don't! I kill idiots and stuck-up assholes all the time! And sometimes for other reasons too, but it's fine. They deserve it! But," she rests her face down again, and when she speaks again she sounds... strange. "She didn't."

"Then why did you do it?" you ask, quietly.

"I was upset. She told me something... truthful. And I didn't want to hear it anymore. So I killed her. That's all. It's... it's my prerogative as a goddess to do that, isn't it?" She still sounds strange, and you realize it's because she sounds... flat. Defeated. Lady Victory, defeated.

You pause a moment to consider your reply. "You know how I feel about that."

Vriska, goddess of Light, chuckles dryly. "Yeah, I do."

"So, I'm not going to tell you that what you did is okay. Because it wasn't." You lift one hand up, reach towards her a moment, then withdraw. "But it's progress, that you feel bad about it. I think. So that's good. You still need to learn to control your temper, and be held to consequences for your actions... but it's progress."

"I hate this," grumbles Vriska. "I didn't become a goddess so I could feel bad about it."

Your lips quirk upwards. "Well, great power comes with responsibilities, or so once said a beloved superhero movie character themed after your favorite arachnid."

She rolls her eyes and lowers her legs from their fetal position. "Responsibilities? Please, no, that's so last epoch."

You frown at her irritation. "You're a goddess, does that really not come with inbuilt responsibility?"

"The responsibilities came first, then came the godhood." She leans forward, ridiculous braids and all, and takes your hand in hers. "But I suppose you're going to learn about that eventually, too." As she continues, you stare down at her hand, holding yours. "You don't like responsibility, either. But you think some things are more important than your dislike. Right?" She smiles, closes her eyes, and brings your hand to her cheek. Her skin is cool and silk-smooth. "You'll be a better goddess than me."

You stare at your hand on her face. You feel oddly mesmerized.

"Vriska Serket," you say softly. "Is this a pale solicitation?"

The goddess laughs, a little teasingly, but without mockery or cruelty. It's an unexpectedly pleasant sound. "It took you this long to figure that out?"

-------

She's a goddess, but you're not normal, either. You still don't much like how the gods run this universe, but you're becoming self-aware enough to realize that, well, you're starting to like them more as people. They are flawed, immature, selfish, sometimes cruel. But they were mortals, once. Why do you expect them to be that much better than humans?

Still. It's... good, to have someone who confides in you. Someone who's not just there to teach you, to mold you, to be your superior. Someone to keep you company when Mother is in the lab for days on end, a warm body to lean on when she is black-out drunk.

She's not your mother, not your sister, not your friend, not your lover. She runs her fingers through your hair. She lays her forehead on your shoulder and listens to your problems. You listen to hers. There are times that summer she comes in angry, upset, wings spread and words burning blue. So, you make a soft nest for you both and clean her horns, rub her shoulders, stroke her face. She calms. Is this what is meant by moirallegiance?

Maybe it's helpful. Maybe you are making a difference this way, calming her and making her more likely to show mercy on her supplicants. But you know these are justifications. The truth is, you just like it.

Maybe, for now, that's enough.

[kurtty-drabbles]

You´re a witchy, Kitty (part 8)

N/A: Inspiration hit me. Got write. I guess.

@djinmer4 @dannybagpipesarecalling @bamfoftheundead

Jean and Scott are ready to return to the X-men and their fellow friends to share their wondrous news. "Scott, the dress is perfect you´ll love it...before and after the party" Jean has innuendo and there´s no need of powers to see what the two couple are thinking, however, this is put in a halt as Jean listen Piotr shout a big NOOO so loud that interrupts any attempt of telepathic sex.

And quickly enter the mansion to see a real mess. Piotr crying and shouting the name Yana and demonic smoke (Scott can see demonic shapes coming from said smokes) in the Yana´s room.

Ororo noticed them and smiles sadly at the couple. "Jean, Scott. I´m afraid you arrived at a bad time...something strange just happened. Yana joins a demonic portal"

Scott sighs and looks at his future wife. "We´re X-men when something strange does not happen with us?" and the couple ignores Logan´s dramatic man pain.

The couple meets the newest addition to the team. Kurt Szardos, a blue furry man who can do magic and is more than willing to help in the rescue of Illyana Rasputin. If Ororo trusts him enough for the mission, the Summers will play along.

_______________________________________________________________________

Kurt Szardos is in a throne room. Is shinning too bright thanks to the sun, oh Ra must be in a good mood and the void must be in an even joyful spirit hence why the room itself looks so pristine. White, gold and rust-coloured are visible for his eyes but Kurt knows there are more colours. There´s more shape to be seen, but, what´s the price to see more?

"What a curious mind you have" a feminine voice speaks drawing his total attention on the source and Kurt wonders how he missed. On the centre of the room, there´s the throne and there a Queen sits and rules above all.

Cleopatra, but, not like Hollywood vision her. Cleopatra has a mix of beige and brown that makes her beauty seems ethereal, the gold on her ears, fingers and arms only enhance her natural beauty. Cleopatra in front of him is beautiful and also is the pure personification of Chaos.

Kurt does not look into her eyes for long and looks down. He can feel the tentacles, can feel the eyes on his very soul and knows no magic or pray can save him in case of the Queen of Dreamland want him for her meal.

"Funny indeed, however, I´m not here to eat...not today" and Kurt can sense the malicious smile. "No need to fear me, for today, cause I´m amused by your plan, wizard. The Szardos is always a disappointment, you, however, exceed all my expectations. I like to laugh too" and Kurt now is forced to look up to see the Queen gazing upon him. She mentions with her head he can speak and Kurt measures his words carefully.

"Thank you, I wouldn´t imagine my search for my soulmate to amuse you" is a careful sentence and it seems to not anger the Queen as she smiles again.

"You did, I like manipulation and you have the X-men on your hands. Interesting, and using little Yana for such purpose, I´m amused. But here´s the problem, my dear wizard" and Kurt can feel the tentacles rose up to his waist and is making him acutely aware of how close he is now with the Queen.

"And what will be, my Queen?"

"You´ll face my Belasco...Can you defeat him?"

"No, no one can defeat him, except you, and going to his realm...is dangerous and increases his chances even more"

"Good, good. Do you have a plan?"

"A few"

And the Queen smiles in a sultry way as Kurt knows that in Dreamlands you must pay off some form to a Good Queen and Kurt believes this can be label as "stories that Kitty does not need to know"

________________________________________________________________________

Piotr is taking harder as his sister really jump in the opportunity to get rid of him and even as everyone is working to devise a plan, even the wizard, Piotr realizes he can´t offer anything to the table.

Am I ....making my snowflake nervous?

This miserable thought continues to haunt him even in his nightmares as he sees Yana looking at him in disgust and saying he´s a creepy and how his love for her is tainted and gross. And...someone is laughing at him, someone is laughing at Piotr´s humiliation.

_______________________________________________________________________

" According to the wizard, Limbo is a dangerous place for your powers, Jean" Ororo explains and Jean accepts, no one will be seen when Logan starts coming to terms of his feelings for Jean and vows to get over. Meanwhile, Scott asks who will come to the mission to rescue Yana Rasputin and Ororo is ready to answer.

"Me, myself, Logan, Kurt and Rogue. Prof X is, well, with Moira at moment and we won´t waste time chasing a man that likes to hide and be chased, an innocent life is at the stake here" Ororo then concludes with a lighter tone "When we return I want to know all the details about the wedding"

Jean smiles. "Ororo, as if I could hide any secret from you" and she hugs her old friend who extends the courtesy to Scott Summers. The X-men are a family and that´s what matters.

_____________________________________________________________________

Persephone is a funny name, Yana thought, but, she has no room to judge as she´s being very kind with Yana even if...the blonde girl is not very sure of her choices.

"Miss Persephone..." Yana begins knowing how this world works and still wanting to know more. "how many peoples did you have to kill to get that spell?"

The woman turns to her with a nice smiling on her beautiful face and responds patiently. "22 demons" and watches as Yana nods know understanding her error. She only killed 17 demons today.

______________________________________________________________________

“Kitty...are you positive you can handle this?” Ororo asked and Kitty nods knowing a witch can´t lie. The wizard, a Szardos, someone that Agatha often said is dangerous kneel on her level and asked again.

“Are you really sure? Limbo is a dangerous place...far more dangerous than my foster mother” he replies kindly and Kitty listen to his words knowing that Yana trust him and she does trust on Yana too. “I know your teacher often say I must be just like my foster family, but, can you trust on us to save your friend?”

Kitty gazes back at him, no hostility nor warm welcome. “I want to help. Yana is my best friend and I can´t ...not do anything” is the truth and Hecate can´t punish her.

“Can you trust me to protect your back?”

“Yes”

And Kurt Szardos offers a smile to the teenager and nothing else can said. 

[hpdabbles]

Little Matchmaker.

“Hi. My dad said you’re famous”  

Harry looks up from where he’s trying to get Albus to hold still long enough to clean his son’s face. By their table is a small little blond boy, maybe around Albus age, staring up at him with big round grey eyes. 

For a moment he almost gets whiplash of memories because those eyes are very familiar. He hasn’t seen them in years though, the owner of them disappearing into who knows where after the war.

“Um, I’m not that famous,” Harry says awkwardly. He glances around trying to spot the kid’s parents. He thought they wouldn’t be bothered here since this was a muggle town. None of the people here should know about Harry Potter’s legend.

James is already making a face and Albus is pouting up a storm. He resisted the urge to sigh. Harry promised them this visit would be away from all the Wizarding World’s awestruck staring, would be with all his attention on them and he wishes for once he could come through for them.

Their relationship is rocking enough after the divorce. 

“My dad said you are. My dad doesn’t lie” The boy says narrowing his eyes at Harry like he’s daring him to disagree. “You’re Harry Potter. You have glasses and a scar on your forehead. You save people.”

“Go away” James grouches with all the venom of a seven-year-old. “We’re eating” 

Despite James being older and sitting in a higher chair the blond kid still manages to look down at him. Harry gets another sprung of memories but the kid turns to him again.  “You are Harry Potter, right?”

“Well I-”

“He’s my Daddy!” Albus hisses, actually hisses, and Harry whips his head around worried someone heard his boy’s parseltongue. Luckily no one is paying attention to them.  “Stop trying to steal him!”

Harry winces. Albus still thinks people varying for his attention was someone trying to steal him. Thinks it’s the reason he left their home, even though it’s been almost a year since they lived together. 

As if through the crowds screaming his name were more important to him then his family.

That’s what drove Ginny away, wasn’t it?  

Okay, maybe not the reason, both just didn’t feel like their relationship was working anymore. Both of them wanted different things and they were still great friends. She understood him in ways no one else did as he did for her but both had to admit that the spark was lost. 

Oh, it would have been easy to stay together, but then they would be living a lie. They were friends but nothing more. Staying together and dragging out the marriage wouldn’t have done them any good, may have even turned them bitter against each other and neither wanted that. 

 Ginny was tired of the “Boy-Who-Conquer’s Wife” fame, always overshadowed and reduce as a simple wife despite being one of the best bloody quidditch’s professional players out there. Harry was tried in general, tired of work, tired of fame, tired of life but then again he’s been tired since he was fourteen.

It was his kids nowadays that keeps him going. Moving out of his old house and sharing custody with Ginny over his three pride and joys was hard, harder still that she had them longer than he, but it was refreshing in a way too. 

He packed up his bags, moved to the countryside with his Potter wealth and just started to farm, away from the crowds and noise. Heaven knows it did wonders for his mental state. 

The blond kid raises one brow then hisses back  “The moon is a cow in blue heels” 

Baffled Albus closes his mouth, looking like someone slap him with a fish, making Harry chuckle. He highly doubts the strange kid knew what he was saying likely just wanting to hiss at his son. Little kids tend to mimic each other when insulted. 

James sticks out his tongue to the kid and the blond doesn’t back down copping the action with a mocking “blah” added to it. Both his boys look impressed.

“Are you Harry Potter or not?” The boy demands after a long stare off between James. He stomps his little foot making Harry raise a brow. Little spoil isn’t he? 

“I am,” He says watching the delight bloom over the kid’s face. 

“Great. You’re Harry Potter and you save people” Quick as a snake the boy spring forward wrapping his tiny finger’s around Harry’s in a death grip. “You need to save my Daddy”

Wait, what? The blond turns tugging on his hand as if though he’s strong enough to make Harry move on his own.  “He’s sad and you need to save him. I heard Uncle Blaise tell Aunt Pansy he’s going to die if he stays sad, but he needs a hero to save him from himself you see. So come save him”

Mildly alarm now Harry stops the boy by pulling him backwards.  “I’m sorry what do you mean by-”

“I can pay you!” The little boy says almost desperately and- oh no, big silver eyes are filling with tears. His sons have fallen silent, aware something terrible was happening before them. “I have four pounds and I can give you all my toys! All of them!”

Harry gets up from seat kneeling before the child who is sniffling now rubbing at his eyes. He places his hands on his shoulder’s gently. “I don’t want your toys-”

“I do!” Albus chirps in but is silenced by James who hisses “Be quiet!” so Harry ignores them. The little boy is staring at him with such broken eyes he wants to punch anyone who hurt him. It surprises him a little, such protective urges are usually only reserved for his own three angles.

“-I just want to know why you think you’re Daddy needs saving?” He says gently, reaching up to wipe at the tears spilling over the boy's cheeks. 

“Mommy went to sleep” The boy whispers.  “She not gonna wake up anymore and Daddy’s really sad...I don’t know what to do. I’m not a hero but you are..so please..please can we come live with you? Until Daddy’s happy again?”

“Er...well-I don’t think-”

“Scorpius?” A man calls. The two turn to see a blond man looking around. Harry’s breath catches in his throat. Draco Malfoy? Was that Draco Malfoy? After all these years? Or was it just some man that may look what he thinks Malfoy would look like now?

The blond man looks in their direction, and his face twists into rage. “Get your bloody hands off my boy!”

Nearly everyone on the street turns and Harry hastily backs away from the child as if he’s been burn. The blond rushes over, scooping up his child and glaring with all the might of a dragon.  “What did you do to him!? Scorpius love, did he do anything weird to you?”

“It’s Harry Potter Daddy!” The boy blurts burring his face into the blond's neck “He’s here to save you! We’re gonna live with him now”

“Potter?” The man says relaxing. He blinks silver eyes at Harry and then his lips turn into an odd smile. Warily and apologetic all rolled into one. “What’s the Wizarding Savior doing in these neck of the woods?”  

  And yes, that’s definitely Draco Malfoy. Holy shit, the time has done him so many favors.  He’s been pretty back in Hogwarts but the sharp and cold features always made him a little off-putting.

He’s got more of a softer tone to him, more mellow somehow.  Harry dumbstruck by it, unable to work his jaw around his astonishment.

Mommy went to sleep. 

Hadn’t he read in the Daily Prophet a year back, around the time Ginny and he were working out the details of their divorce about Astoria Malfoy’s death? It wasn’t that big of a deal to him then, only finding out she married Draco from the fact, her husband refused to allow Daily  Prophet to cover the funeral and the reports trashed him for it.

It hadn’t hit him that Draco Malfoy was a widow until this very moment. 

Because despite the fact he was softer there was exhaustion and sadness clinging to every weary part of the man’s body, The desperate hold he had on his son, like he may disappear too, made Harry’s stomach turn.

Without thinking he found himself saying “Having lunch with my sons. Would you two care to join us?”

Draco looked surprised but he was unable to say no to his very eager son who cheered at the idea. The Malfoys sat with them, at first stiff and unsure but somehow Albus and Scorpius started talking about some game or another and the two roped James into it.

The fathers sat back watching the new friendship blossom with faint smiles. They avoided looking at each other for too long before a weary Draco offhandedly mention creating brooms as a job now. 

Harry soon found himself discussing the man’s job while admitting he was the proud owner of a farm and the rest of the afternoon turns into an outing with the two men and their kids. It’s been a long time since Harry had this much fun, taking the boys to the local park and watching them run about screaming. 

Draco stands next to him  “I thought you had three kids?”

Harry turns to him with surprise and the blond says almost defensively  “It was all over the Daily Prophet when she was born.” 

Ah yes,  he forgot about that article. Lily was born with a heart defect that had Healers speculating her survival. At the time Harry was a mess of stress and worry not paying attention to the articles being published. When his sweet little girl pulled through he went about with sues, angry they gotten his daughter’s medical record. 

“She’s with her mom. She’s doing some witch night daughter-mother tradition” Harry wasn’t really sure what it was about but Ginny hadn’t taken no for an answer. “Tomorrow she would bring Lily over.”

 “Ah yes, The Stargazing.” Draco nods then with a slight smile he adds on “They sent Scorpius an invention mistaking him for a girl and I had to spend four hours explaining the wards wouldn’t allow him in to get him to stop asking to go.”

“Sexiest Wards” 

“I know right?” 

They share a laugh and just then Harry thinks he misses this. This weird comfortable understanding, of want and longing with the hints of desire under every word.

 He used to share it with Ginny, and he wishes he could share it with someone else. Before he can think better of it he finds the words “Say Malfoy would you mind joining me for dinner?”

Two years later, he picks up his three kids, bringing all three back to the farm and smiling as they run inside of their step-dads workshop with loud shouts of “Did you make me a broom Draco?!” in three different voices but with the same eager tones.

Scorpius’ voice rings over all of them “I did!”

followed by his husband’s very alarm “NO! THAT’S NOT FIT FOR FLYING-JAMES GET OFF OF IT!”

Harry smiles. 

[slytherinknowitall]

Potion Fumes and Cauldron Leaks

Chapter 8: A Muggle Milestone With A Magical Twist

(Click here for chapter 7!)

(Click here to start from the beginning!)

Disclaimer: I don’t own the “Harry Potter” book series. The story of “Harry Potter” is the property of J. K. Rowling, it is not my intellectual property. There is no financial gain made from this nor will any be sought. This is for entertainment purposes only.

Over the course of the next week, Severus tried his best to keep his distance from Granger. He completely ignored his apprentice and her tenacious, ever-waving right arm during regular Potions class; and for their Tuesday lesson, he simply sent her to the greenhouses to collect some Mandrake leaves as his supply had run low.

By the time their next lesson rolled around, however, he could no longer avoid the witch. The Hospital Wing was in sudden dire need of Wiggenweld Potion, causing the matron to request such a large quantity of bottles that Snape by no means could have handled it all himself. “I will need to have a word with Poppy after dinner,” the half-blood thought pettishly as he carefully measured out the required amount of salamander blood. “She ought to keep a better eye on her stock and place orders earlier. I simply cannot get any proper work done like this! My research sure is suffering terribly under these ludicrous conditions …” Of course, he would have never admitted that he was mostly trying to dodge long lab hours with the Gryffindor Princess.

On the other side of the classroom, Granger was in the midst of simultaneously stirring three gigantic copper cauldrons with a little help from her wand. She almost seemed to be in a world of her own, with her brows deeply furrowed in concentration. Severus also noticed that the skin of her lips was looking horribly battered. Needless to say, he had observed her nervous lip biting habit years ago; but today, he was purposely trying to keep his eyes away from her and her stupid, all too distracting mouth.

Just as Snape was about to start calculating how much flobberworm mucus would be needed for the potion, the heavy classroom door suddenly swung open. “Severus, my old friend!” the headmaster’s familiar voice resonated from the dungeon walls, causing him to wince. In the name of Merlin, that loony fool was the last thing he needed right now!

Looking up, he saw the infamous grey-bearded wizard strutting towards his desk. If the old man hadn’t been wearing bright green robes with metallic purple embroidery paired with a ridiculous-looking pointy hat, he might even have been a majestic sight to behold. Severus rolled his eyes melodramatically before giving his employer a curt nod of acknowledgement. “Headmaster … What can I do for you?”

Once Dumbledore came to a halt in front of him, Severus could see that strange twinkle in his eyes that he knew all too well. What is this ancient madman up to now? “My boy, I always enjoy getting the chance to converse with you,” he said with glee. “Today, however, I have come to see the lovely Miss Granger. As I can see, the two of you are getting along just great!” Severus thought that he could see his mouth form a slight smirk.

Granger’s head shot up in surprise. “Me?” she asked, a bit flustered. “But why, Professor? Did something happen? Am I needed as Head Girl? Did Harry get hurt during Quidditch practice? Or Ron? Ginny?” One could almost sense her thoughts spinning through the room at lightning speed.

The headmaster smiled softly. “Now, now, Miss Granger, no need to worry! Remember, the dangerous times are over now, aren’t they?” Snape saw her sigh in relief and nod her head, as if to reassure herself. Trying to remove himself from the situation, he walked over to the cauldrons that the young woman had now abandoned and added a handful of lionfish spines to their bubbling content. Dumbledore continued, “In fact, I am here to celebrate a joyous occasion! After all, it has come to my attention that there is a very important day coming up rather soon; and since I unfortunately won’t be on school grounds tomorrow, I thought that I should come and congratulate you today.”

While Granger seemed pleasantly surprised and even blushed a little at these words, Severus was more than confused. “Congratulate?”

“Why, yes, Severus! Don’t tell me you weren’t aware of the fact that it is Miss Granger’s birthday tomorrow?”

The Potions Master curled his lip in annoyance and redirected his attention to the potion before him, which was now in the process of turning bright yellow. “I was not. And quite frankly, I do not see why this should be of any concern or importance to me.”

“But birthdays are always of great importance!” the flamboyant man exclaimed almost dramatically. “Besides, need I remind you that it is tradition for apprentices to receive a present from their tutor on their special day? I’m sure that you must have stumbled across this wonderful practice at some point during your research.”

Come to think of it, he did recall coming across something like that when re-reading Hogwarts: A History following that fateful staff meeting two and a half weeks ago. Severus groaned. He felt like he was being punished for everything he had ever done wrong in life. Not only was he being forced to closely work with the arguably most annoying person he’d ever met, but now he also had to present her with a gift – like he was one of her idiotic little friends! And what should he even give to her? How should he, a 37-year-old man who had never had a proper relationship with a woman in his entire life, know what today’s girls were into? He grimaced at the thought of going down to Hogsmeade and buying heart-shaped candies from Honeydukes or, even worse, standing between the racks in Gladrags Wizardwear and thinking about what piece of clothing would fit the Muggle-born’s well-formed body the best.

Dumbledore for one seemed highly amused by his younger colleague’s reaction. “I’m sure you will be able to find something that is just perfect for our equally as perfect student. Now, Miss Granger, I wish you a very happy birthday, and, of course, I did not come empty-handed either. I think I made a great pick if I dare say so myself!”

He handed her a little pouch similar to the one that Snape had received at the beginning of term, only that this time it was made of neon yellow fabric with little light blue pearls sewn around the hem. The girl cautiously untied it with her delicate hands, revealing a thin golden bracelet with only one small charm dangling from it: a glossy white cowry shell.

“I came across this lovely specimen this summer during a nice, long walk along the French Riviera. If I recall correctly, you used to spend many happy days there with your family before you entered the wizarding world, is that right?”

Her honey brown eyes lit up immediately. “Yes! Oh, thank you so much, Professor! What a thoughtful gift – I will treasure it forever!” The headmaster had a content look on his face as he watched her promptly put on her new piece of jewellery.

“I do not want to ruin this precious moment,” Snape suddenly interjected, sarcasm clearly dripping from his stern voice. “But I do believe that Miss Granger is here to help me brew, not to celebrate a birthday … Especially one that is still hours away at that.”

Alarmed, his apprentice hurried back to tend to the cauldrons, whereas Dumbledore merely chuckled. Making his way to the classroom door, he turned back around one more time.

“Oh, and Severus?” he called out, causing the Potions professor to tear his eyes away from his cutting board and look up. “Thank you so very much for so quickly taking care of this whole Wiggenweld Potion situation. Poppy sure seemed terribly upset with me when I accidentally knocked her entire supply from the shelves in her storage room last night. I did feel awfully bad about it, of course; but what can I say – I guess we all just get a bit clumsier with age!” Severus glowered at the older man as he gave him a mischievous wink before disappearing into the dark dungeons at long last.

The next half hour was fortunately free of any further disruptions. He and Granger were able to finish brewing the potion relatively soon and were now carefully pouring the thick liquid into cylindric-shaped glass bottles. It was then that the Head Girl decided to break the silence.

“You know, Professor, you don’t really need to give me anything. It’s not an important birthday anyways,” she said hoarsely.

Not taking his gaze off his work for even a second, Severus waited awhile before answering. Eventually, he replied, “Miss Granger, believe me when I say that there is nothing I would rather do. However, I am already forced to take part in this imbecile apprenticeship programme as it is. So I might as well participate to the best of my abilities.” After another short pause, he added, “Not that I have much of a choice. I would never hear the end of it if the headmaster found out that I didn’t eagerly play along with his silly antics.”

“Oh, um, well …” Granger stuttered. “I would like to thank you in advance then, sir.”

Ignoring what she’d just said, he continued, “And if there is even such a thing as an important birthday, the eighteenth would surely be one of them. After all, I do believe that it equals coming of age in the Muggle world.”

He could see her frown out of the corner of his eye. “Certainly. But most witches and wizards do not seem to attach value to this. I reckon that the majority of them don’t even know that there is a difference between the wizarding and the Muggle world in this regard.”

Snape snorted. “I do hope that I would be aware of it, having a Muggle father myself!”

He only noticed his mistake when he saw her jaw almost drop to the floor, and then his breathing hitched. He had just shared personal information with a student! Having always been a very private and reserved man, this was something that he’d never ever done before, not even with his favourite Slytherins – and yet he had just now recklessly slipped up in front of one of Potter’s main sidekicks. He cursed under his breath.

“Miss Granger, it looks like there are only a few phials left to fill. I believe that you should go now.”

He could see that it took the teenager a few moments to regain her composure before she finally bobbed her head and started to gather her belongings. Once she had left the classroom, Severus put his head in his hands – he could already feel a migraine coming.

*************** *************** ***************

Hours later, Hermione made her way from the Astronomy Tower back to her private quarters. As soon as she was inside, she dropped her heavy bag onto the floor and let herself fall onto her bed. She was utterly exhausted. It was almost midnight and it had been a very long day. While she had always been a night owl, she certainly needed her sleep during the week.

She remained in this position for a few minutes before she reluctantly sat up and took off her uniform. She stood up, walked over to her closet and pulled out some worn-out pyjamas which she had received as a Christmas gift from Mrs Weasley nearly three years ago. They were terribly ugly, being of a washed-out pink colour and an atrocious floral pattern, but they were comfortable and Hermione loved them to pieces.

After finishing her nightly routine consisting of washing her face, brushing her teeth, packing her bag for the following day and casting a few protective spells – an old, hard-to-kick habit of wartime – the Gryffindor finally slipped into bed. With her eyelids already feeling heavy, she quickly wrapped herself in her fluffy blanket and pulled a happily purring Crookshanks to her chest. She’d never felt this tired before.

Hermione had almost fallen asleep when the feline in her arms suddenly started to squirm, hissing loudly. Confused and a bit drowsy, the girl turned around and noticed one of the school’s owls sitting on her windowsill. Her eyebrows knitted in surprise as she begrudgingly got back up and walked over to it. Who in their right mind would send out something so late? Exchanging the animal’s package for a few tasty bird treats, she closed the window before getting back into bed. As far as she could see, the parcel hadn’t come with any sort of note; and the only thing she uncovered after removing the brown wrapping paper was a rather old-looking book.

“Lumos,” she whispered. With the tip of her wand glowing faintly, she was able to take a better look at the publication in front of her. The title was almost completely faded, but she was still able to decipher it: Long-forgotten Secrets of the Mayan Wizarding Culture – Potions, Spells and More.

Suddenly, the famous young witch was wide-awake and even let out a minor shriek. Unbelievable! In her hands, she was holding one of only twelve known copies of one of the most sought-after literary masterpieces from the early 19th century. It was so rare that some magical scholars would quite literally give an arm and a leg just to catch a short glimpse of it. And now it seemed as though Hogwarts’ on-site know-it-all was in possession of an exemplar – Hermione was in complete shock.

Even more shocking, however, was the fact that she had actually seen this priceless book in person before – hiding in plain sight on one of many shelves in Professor Snape’s sitting room.

(Click here for chapter 9!)

[obsidianarchives]

The White Progressivism of the Harry Potter Franchises

Hi, my name is Porshèa Patterson and I have a confession: I’m a Black woman who hasn’t read books with characters’ racial/ethnic, gender, or ability identity in mind.

Growing up, I was a voracious reader consuming any fictional stories that contained magic, strong female characters, intrigue or mystery, history, or all of the above. Often these stories were about white characters who either appeared as such on book covers or were described with attributes of white people — blonde flowing hair or alabaster skin — which, to be quite honest, were not always clearly white to me. People of color can also have blonde flowing hair, blue, green, gray, or hazel eyes, and alabaster can be stark white or gradients of brown.

In fact, it was not until I attended Lincoln University, a historically Black university, as an undergraduate student that I began to question how these identities shaped my consumption of media. Upon reflection, I realized that when I read books and watched movies or TV shows, I didn't seek to identify with characters because of their racial or ethnic backgrounds, though I often bypassed extremely white shows like Friends and chose to watch shows with female leads most. The highest priority for my entertainment choices was that I was introduced to vibrant worlds and cultures where I could see fairness and accountability in play. Coming from a smallish town in Middle Tennessee, my idea of fairness was very much shaped by my white peers and teachers, whom I engaged with most during classes and social events. To them, fairness meant seeing things from ‘both sides’ and compromising on a concept that didn’t concede the point in question with ‘either side.’ These were all perspectives I had to unlearn by questioning why I was comforted by certain media over others. It just so happens that one of the book series that resonated with me most is also one of the most popular franchises of all time, Harry Potter.

Being a longtime fan of the series and a recent addition to Harry Potter fandom communities means that any news about future stories or character backgrounds was met with happiness and anticipation. Was. Yet, since the release of Magic in North America on the Pottermore website, I’ve met all news coming from official content production sources with dread and preemptive disappointment. After seeing Native American Harry Potter fans, namely Dr. Adrienne Keene and Johnnie Jae, address the issues in J.K. Rowling having a white, Scottish character create the first and only accredited Wizarding school in North America, where she moved with the same sense of ownership over the land as other colonizers, my guard went up. Following Rowling’s dismissive response once confronted, I knew that I could never read her work without also understanding that she does not care at all about how the representation, or lack thereof, of characters and communities she does not belong to reinforce ignorance, racism, sexism, classism, latent homophobia, transphobia, or ableist thinking.

I’ve been lucky enough to engage with fandom communities through Black Girls Create and The Harry Potter Alliance which have helped me to deal with and gain clarity on the ways in which the Harry Potter series lives on through activism and critical discourse. Belonging to these fan networks means engaging in fan theory, fan-created projects, and fan fiction. However, Warner Brothers limits and even impedes fan-made products and Rowling complies by trying to be our sole official Wizarding World supplier. We can see her frustration with the fandom becoming something she cannot control or intuitively understand its needs. Instead of embracing the people who have issues and are vocal about wanting to help make things better, she ignores them in favor of ‘yes’ fans, who have the same limited understanding of marginalization as she does. The promotion of the latest Fantastic Beasts movie has exacerbated all of these issues, especially after the surprise unveiling of the only Asian woman character in a speaking role in the Fantastic Beasts series with more than two lines — we hope — presumably becoming the tool of white supremacy/blood purity later in the franchise. I made my earlier confession to make it clear that because I understand my own blind spots and limitations, I am also empathetic to these issues of within us all.

I have admired the strength, creative vision, and social mores that Rowling has embodied as an author, particularly when the fandom was at its nadir. Unlike other popular authors who have similar world-building talents, Rowling never announced deadlines that she couldn't meet and remained true to her characters’ traits, instead of integrating fanfiction that made no sense into canon. That is, until recently. Rowling's prolific writing prowess aside, the feature of the Harry Potter series that resonates most with the fans I engage with are the social mores of acceptance, standing against tyranny, questioning the status quo, and doing the right thing.

By building the Harry Potter series as an allegory of these principles, Rowling has established that these values are important to her and supports these ideals in some of her interviews and tweets. Simultaneously, her remarks in the same spaces also indicate her socio-political shortcomings. While many Potterheads of Color had no choice but to grow up with a hyper-awareness of the myriad of ways in which their identities are scrutinized and discriminated against in the world, Rowling has not had this experience. Race and ethnicity, gender and sexual orientation, ability and disability each directly impact the ways in which peers, supervisors, content creators, and service providers decide how they treat us in formal and informal environments. Yet, in the Harry Potter series, there is little representation of characters who identify as any of the above and the ire they must face as someone who belongs to any of these communities. The main discriminatory thread that Rowling presents throughout the series is the concept of blood purity and the use of a slur for those regarded as impure blood being used by members of Wizarding society who are considered backward thinking by the general populace.

In many ways, the Harry Potter franchise and greater fandom are very reflective of white progressivism. Its steps and missteps look like the same conversations we have in political spaces. Directly impacted communities ask for inclusivity and the powers that be give us performative inclusivity. We voice opposition to the ways in which our lives have been presented and consumed by white people, then are told that we want too much or our opinions are invalid. In fact, one of the most egregious ways in which white liberals, including Rowling and her Harry Potter network, respond to the concerns raised by directly impacted communities is by ignoring our observations in service to their own sense of comfort. This obstinance leads Rowling to make oblivious statements like the Fantastic Beasts franchise was created in service to fans. Ironically, this statement will haunt the author, as even some of her most forgiving fans are taken aback by the latest installment of the series as evidenced by its numerous, poor reviews.

We are living in the time of peak social engagement, wherein societal blind spots are being brought to light. I urge us all to engage with those who openly share experiences that we do not have so that our shared values are as enlightened and inclusive as they are full of love.

[lombax-lombardi]

Reflections~

Summary: Being a spirit of some kind was tough. Sure you can manifest a physical form whenever you wish but sometimes you run into a reflection of yourself. And the real feelings come out.

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Characters: Direheart.

Note: Well thanks to @rii--flect I have caught the feels. Now time to write the feels asdfghjkl!

She was in love once.

Once being the keyword.

Now that was she connected with so many others, even her alternate selves, feeling all the feel made her jealous.

She wish she didn’t feel this way but she did! She didn’t deserve what happened to her if she knew it was going to make her this way!

Most of the residents of Radiant Garden, which it was now called thanks to Sora and friends, were upset at her presence. Not her presence entirely but the fact she was so sad was affecting the others.

Even the mopiest person, Cloud Strife, was starting to feel how heavy her emotions were taking a toll on the residents. The ghost had become close with the Restoration Committee during her much allotted time there.

 Yuffie, the young ninja, was laying on the floorboards of Merlin’s house while Aerith, the charming brunette in pink, sat nearby. “Something seems to be troubling you?” her voice alerted Yuffie who looked up at the brunette.

“Kinda. It’s Direheart.” Upon the mention of the spirit’s name, the brunette seemed to nod in understanding. “She looks so miserable....It’s cause...I think I heard Merlin correctly....” she sat up trying hard to remember what the old wizard had told them when another voice spoke up.

“It’s because of what type of creature she is” The girls look up to see another brunette, clad in leather. “According to him because of a lack of a heart, that red ruby on her chest acts a substitute”

“But how can it act like that Leon?” Yuffie queried, the male folded his arms across his chest. “Even Marlin doesn’t know the whole story, Direheart is very quiet about her past. All we have to go on is that she has been around for a very long time”

Aerith takes a moment to speak up. “Not to mention she is probably worried for her friend Rii”

“Yeah. Sora and Riku did NOT look pleased at all that she got taken. But it’s like her whole demeanour affects everyone-” Yuffie was about to continue on when the stuffy old wizard himself decided to poof himself right in the middle of the conversation.

“Well my dear as Leon was saying it has to do with that jewel carved into her chest. It allows her to maintain a stronger connection to others she has become rather close too. Even across worlds” the old wizard stroked his beard.

“Because when she feels miserable, the rest of you do because you are close to her. You believe you are friends yes?”

They nod in response to his question. “Good. Now according to what I have managed to learn, with what she has been able to tell me...” he pulled over a piece of parchment from his robe. “This is what she used to be like before her transformation”

The trio approached to stare at the piece of paper. It seemed to be a drawing, in colour of their ghostly friend. She had long brown hair with eyes to match and she...was smiling.

Yuffie stared wide eyed at the picture, Aerith seemed to stare in wonder and as for Leon well he was shocked to say the least. She used to look like that?

Then what in the hell happened to her to make her look like she does now?

“Now. From what I know about how she was before, she was very much like Sora. Kind, caring and all that and from what we were told by our robot visitor...” Merlin mumbles. They knew who he was referring to. 

Seven.

“She sacrificed herself to save her friends. And with being a spirit now, her connections with others are magnified on such a scale that she feels what they do”

Aerith lifts her head. “Everything? Every emotion? Thought?”

The old wizard gives the young woman a nod. “Why yes. Every single minuet thing she feels on a scale larger then normal my dear. The poor soul.”

The trio fall silent. Poor Direheart. What a miserable life she leads now.

Speaking of, said spirit was floating around the marketplace waiting for news or waiting for her friend to summon her again. Or to be called off to a different place yet again as is her wont in life now.

Well if you could call this a life. 

In her time here she had become close with Scrooge McDuck and his nephews, Huey, Dewey and Louie. Mostly because she had a fondness for children in general and the boys were always polite to her and always asked her questions. In fact she had become close with all the people here, even Cloud with all his moping.

As she floated around she saw something, no, someone motioning for her to follow. She did so, taking a moment to land. She was greeted with bright blue eyes and a smile.

“Oh...Sora...hello..” she sounded so indifferent. “Aww come on Direheart, I can’t a smile from you?”

That sounded familiar to her. Ah right...Ven. It was hard to forget that a part of him was hold up inside the Keyblade holders heart. It was hard to not smile at him.

“There she is~”

“Why are you here Sora. You didn’t make a trip this long to come see little old me..” she said, face returning to its stone cold coverage, Sora placed his hands on his hips. “Look Direheart we are still looking for Rii but this has to do with something else....I got a strange message from a friend of yours...”

He began describing the person who delivered the message. Seven. She seemed to be popping up a lot more recently, trying her best to help.

Help huh? More like nuisance...No don’t think like that! The last time something like that happened the evil I’ve buried came out!

“What did she want?” Direheart spoke, glossy blue eyes. 

“Well what she basically said is that you really need to get over your losses and move forward. You are...kind of bringing everyone down.” He felt her eyes narrow, looking right through him. “Oh really? Kind of difficult when everything you loved and cared for vanished when you woke up after so long”

He seemed to have struck a nerve. Which wasn’t his intention he said it as nicely as he could. But several people did warn him that the spirit was a bit of a firecracker.

She turned her head away from. “Just find Rii...and keep the last part of my friend safe. I need to be alone” she flew off with Sora reaching out to stop her, but he was a tad too late. Damn it.

The spirit found herself in a quiet corner of Radiant Garden, sitting on the railing. “Get over it huh? Get over it? How would SHE know ANYTHING about getting over it!!” Her anger grew, loose strands of white hair covered her vision as she gripped her head. “If I didn’t save those fools I’d still be normal! But no here I am with nothing! With no one! The person I loved is now just a derelict suit of armour and I can’t bring myself to love another because I feel I don’t deserve such happiness!!” 

Her ministrations had caused the environment around her to twist and turn, moulding into new terrifying shapes. This wasn’t just anger, this was sadness.

“I see their smiling faces, going about their lives while I’m stuck in a sort of limbo with nothing and not a soul to call my own...all I wanted...all I want...” Tears fell from her eyes, wetting spots of concrete. Seeing the remnants of Terra that day really shook her core. Even she didn’t know it. It was hidden upon layers and layers of bile, hatred, jealousy.

“I don’t want to be alone anymore....can’t I just have that....” she asked to the silence.

No response.

Typical.

She was alone.

Always.

She wasn’t even aware of the ghostly visage standing in front of her. “Oh come on now me. Moping isn’t going to help you...”

She looked up in pure shock. Standing in front of her...was herself!

Well what she looked like before she removed her heart from her body.

“Come to berate me have you?” Her reflection shook her head. 

“No I’m here to tell you to stop moping and get up!”

The one in white scoffed. “As if. You’re me, like you can tell me what to do...”

Her reflection growled in protest, lifted up the spirit by the scuff of her dress, fists clenching ever tighter around the slightly visible fabric. Brown eyes stared in cloudy blue ones, the red markings around her eyes glowed somewhat amidst the darkness.

“Now you listen here, Me. Sure you lost me when you lost your heart. Sure you got forced out of two vessels when you weren’t ready! Sure it sucks that you have this fate thrust upon you and that guy you...no we fell in love with is now so separated it may take a long time to make him whole again...”

She felt her reflection tremble slightly. “But you cannot sit here and think you aren’t worthy of feeling that way again! You may have lost me somewhere beneath all the emotions of our alternates but enough is enough!”

The white haired female stared in shock at her reflection. This what was buried underneath it all? Some shred of her original persona left?

“I can’t come back. It’s far too late for me. You’ve become something completely new....Well...we have I guess...”

“But-”

“No buts Direheart! We both know that if you are gonna stave the darkness from you, you HAVE to get over the things in the past. We need to do this Direheart. So stop sitting there thinking that Terra is your one and only and you have lost the ability to love forever.” she motions a hand to a shining portal in the distance.

“You still have your memories right?”

“Yes I do but...”

“I’m not going to say lose yourself in them. There may be new loves in your life as you hop between worlds and help our alternates. Just stop beating yourself up over it...” She shakes her head. 

“Look you have people who care about you...” Visions of the people she had grown to care for started to fill the empty void, glowing brightly.

“Not to mention our alternates”

Yes. The others who share her name.

“Now look it will be tough but he did say he will come back...not today not tomorrow, not next month but he will” She released her from her grip. She noticed something her other half didn’t.

Not until she felt a hand on her shoulder. Direheart flinched.

She turned on her heel to meet those familiar brown eyes that she fell in love with so long ago. It was him, or what she remembered of him anyway.

“It’s you...a-are you...” It was hard to get the words out. Laughter. That same laugh she heard all the time.

“Let’s just say I’m right here..” he pressed a finger against the ruby. She looked confused. She didn’t have a heart.

“But I do not-”

“Yes you do. Listen..Madilyn...” This had to be an illusion. Unless she was in the darkness. It is said that you can sometimes see your loved ones in such a place.

But this darkness wasn’t malevolent.

It was kind.

“I...may not be here with you like I used too....and even if I am...brought back to normal who knows how you’ll feel then. But perhaps one day we could but...for now I just want you to be happy”

This had to be fake.

But she didn’t care.

The tears started rolling down her cheeks faster now. “You promise?” he asked her.

She nods.

“O-Okay..I-I promise...”

He gave her a smile. “That’s the woman I remember...” It was only for a moment but she swore she felt something press against her head, when she opened her eyes again, the visions were gone.

She ended up on her back, staring up at the clouds when a bob of black hair appeared in her vision. “Direheart?”

“ACK!” It seems Yuffie had found her, as she scrambled to her feet. “You startled me!”

“Well you startled us” The ninja said, earning a raised brow from the ghost. “Merlin could see a strange light all the way from his house. We thought you were in trouble”

“We?”

Yuffie nods as she turned her head at the sound of feet coming toward them. It was Aerith and Leon. The one in the pink dress, her face lit up at the sight of her friend safe, rushing over to grab her hands.

Though still see through they felt warm. “You are alright. When that strange light appeared we all felt something was wrong...”

Oh right. That was the ruby’s power, it allowed Direheart when she met people to become attune to their hearts and their minds, which allowed her easy access to their memories and feelings for information.

“You really were worried? About me...I’m just a spirit I am not worth-” The look the brunette was giving her said it all.

“i wouldn’t say anymore if I were you”  came the voice of Leon, who was leaning against the railing. “Once she gets that face she means business. Come on let’s take you to see Merlin, with magic like he saw he wants to make sure you can properly contain it”

Direheart sighs.

How foolish she was to think about how no one really cared. Her vision showed that.

Yes what she saw was just a vision, caused by the ruby’s power. but it was what she needed the most.

Now the important question was...

What was this fuzzy feeling she felt at the sound of peoples voices?

[dowagerintraining]

Fanfiction: QE does Hogwarts

I hope, I pray, that if this does come across their attention, that none of the QE Fab Five will take offence to being immortalised in my little fanfic for Harry Potter. Guys, if you do object, by all means get in touch and say so. But it really was just for the lols and written with love. 

I can’t put this on ffnet, because one of their rules about stories is not to use any ‘real’ people in your stories. So I am going to post it on tumblr instead. I hope people enjoy it. 

If you don’t, you know where the door is. 

--

The Fab Five from QE are brought to London for an extra special UK episode. They are used to having weeks where they change lives. They’re in for a week which will change theirs too. A headmaster has nominated his old friend and long time colleague for a makeover. There’s just a few problems. 1) He teaches at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and 2) he’s currently in 1995... 

“Oh my God oh my god oh my god, this place is just soooo amazing! I mean it’s so old, really old, and you know I never use looking old as a complement but this city is just owning the looking old thing…”

Karamo smiles to himself as Jonathan goes into autowitter in the background. Tan drives ahead, focusing on the road, the only member of the Fab Five permitted to drive in London traffic, as he learned to drive on what the rest of them refer to as the ‘wrong side of the road’.

He has to admit though, London sure is pretty. There are streets here which are older than anything he’s ever seen in the southern states of America. It’s like driving around a movie set, you half expect people in frock coats to come around the corner at any moment in horses and carriages.

“So who are we doing for this ultra special UK makeover?”

The cheering ripples throughout the car as Karamo pulls out the folder. This application arrived in style, written in green ink on old parchment, with an immaculate hand drawn pencil sketch of the person who had been nominated.

“OK, so, our next guest is a Professor.”

The cheers from the back of the car intensify.

“A Professor? What, like at Oxford or something?”

“No, no, not at University, he’s a school teacher. But I don’t have the name of the school here, so I can’t see what subject. He’s been in the position for more than twenty years, and has been nominated by his boss.”

“So what’s the dude’s name?”

“Professor Filius Flitwick.”

There’s a moment of silence. None of them have ever heard a name like it before.

“Ok…” Jonathan tilts his head to one side like an inquisitive bird, turning to share a glance with Bobby, who pulls a confused grimace with high eyebrows. “So … Phil, then…”

“I guess we can go with Phil, we’ll ask when we meet him.”

“So who’s his Boss?”

“Professor Dumbledore. Albus Dumbledore.”

“Oh my Gaaaad,” Bobby rubs his forehead, “You just have to love how the British do their names.” 

“Well, apparently Filius, or Phil, is turning sixty five this year, he’s been working at the school for over twenty years, and he’s an amazing teacher, the students love him and he’s been very successful. It says here is a boarding school, so the school is pretty much Phil’s life’s work. He adores his job, but Albus is aware that he has had no time to spend on himself, and his appearance makes him look a lot older than he actually is.”

“Ahhhh, poor baby. We all know teachers work too hard,”  Antoni is full of sympathy.

“Have we got a photograph, Karamo.”

“We’ve got a sketch…” Karamo hands back the immaculate pencil drawing.

“Oh wow…”

“Um…”

“Yeah…”

Tan’s interest is piqued. He’s never heard the three in the back seat reduced to silence so swiftly. Spotting a parking space to the side of the road, he indicates and pulls in.

“Alright, this I have to see … hand it over…”

Like the others, he is stunned into silence. Firstly because the picture is a masterpiece. He’d almost swear it was alive, it could nearly live and breathe. But secondly, Filius doesn’t look sixty five. He looks closer to one hundred and sixty five. His face is obscured behind an enormous and wizened old beard. His mustache had grown out and merged with the beard, and his face, which was framed by hair which had to be snowy white, was so lined and wrinkled that he looked ancient. A pair of old fashioned half moon spectacles were perched on the edge of his nose. He was dressed in what looked to Tan liked a dressing gown, the sheen of which appeared to be worn velvet, the sort usually seen on the curtains in old school halls. Perched on his head was a bent pointy hat, which seemed to be the same material as his clothing.

“I … “ Tan passed a hand over his face. “I can’t tell, because it’s a drawing obviously, but … does this guy look a little, short? To any of you?”

“I was thinking that,” Bobby said seriously. “It might just be the drawing, but … he looks like he might be a dwarf. Like, he might be an actual dwarf. Like, what’s that actor? The famous one in Game Of Thrones…”

“Peter Dinklage!”

“Yes! That’s it exactly, like him.”

“So … we need to tread carefully here then.”

“But are we not going to talk about the rest?” Jonathan’s voice is shrill with confusion and something approaching outrage. “How on earth does this guy look so old? I mean, sixty is not old. Not these days. Not when you look at someone as dreamy as George Clooney.”

“Well,” Karamo struggles to be fair, “It’s like Antoni said. Teachers work hard, and if he’s teaching at a boarding school, he might not have time to take care of himself.”

“Where is the school, anyway?”

“It doesn’t say, but the headmaster, Albus, is going to meet us in London. Perhaps he lives here during the holidays.”

“Where are we meeting him?”

“The directions are a little confused, but he says to come to King’s Cross Station, and he’ll meet us between platform 8 and 9.”

“Ok, Karamo, are we sure this isn’t production playing a prank on us? We’re not going to end up being mocked on some late night show are we?”

“No, I talked to them, they absolutely swear it’s a real gig, but they are as confused as us. But you know, they’re always looking to include a more diverse range of guests on the show, and the money finally got sorted for us to do a UK special…”

Tan starts up the car and indicates, pulling out into traffic once more. “OK, well, we’re not far from King’s Cross, so we’ll stick the car in short term parking and go pick up Albus.”

“What do you think is with those clothes Tan?”

“Well, maybe it was a dress up day at school or something, the guy looks like some kind of wizard.”

The guys all chuckle, as Antoni and Bobby start exchanging stories about their favourite high school teachers, and the ones who definitely needed to have some kind of makeover. Karamo smiles to himself and listens without a quarter of his brain, as he scans through the flimsy file. There’s not a lot to go on, but maybe Albus can shed some more light on the matter. He’s heard that the British are a lot more reserved, so maybe the guy is just shy, and Albus doesn’t want to hand over too much incriminating evidence to embarrass his friend. That does happen from time to time, and it’s often lead to some of the most fun experiences they’ve had, helping people to blossom and come out of their shells.

“OK, everyone, we’re here!”

Parked up and car secured, the five friends head over to King’s Cross station. Jonathan skips, having overcome his jet lag considerably more quickly than most of the others. He causes a slight stir as the staid and conventional British commuters turn to see which tourist is causing all the commotion.

He doesn’t have the attention to himself for long however. There’s a far more eccentric personality standing on platform 8 who is drawing open mouthed stares from everyone around him.

“Oh my good lordy lord, who on earth is that?”

“Karamo, is that…”

“Do you think…”

“Oh my God…”

“Excuse me, are you … Mr Dumbledore?”

The man is tall, with long flowing clothes which could only be described as robes, of rich scarlet, which hang down to his ankles. His hair is silver white, reading down below his belt, and a tall pointed purple hat is perched on his head, similar to the one Filius was wearing in his portrait, only without the bend in the middle. Tan finds himself remembering snatches of a poem about an old woman, wearing purple, with a red hat, which doesn’t go, but all of those recollections flee from his mind when Albus turns to greet them.

His beard, as impressive as his hair, hangs down past his waist, and is tucked neatly into his belt. His eyes are so blue, they stand out from his face like chips of best bone china, and his smile dominates his face, which is impressive considering the impact of all the white hair. He stands with his arms wide open.

“My friends! My dear good friends, thank you for coming all this way to help an old man sort out his dear friend. I am indeed Albus Dumbledore.”

His voice is sonorous. Tan is reminded of a school trip to Stratford Upon Avon, to watch the RSC perform a Shakespeare play. He thought that only classically trained stage actors could ever speak so perfectly and so correctly.  He looks across at Jonathan, who he suspects has fallen head over heels in love at first sight with this imposing, impressive man who is absolutely in command of himself and comfortable in his delightful eccentric self.

Karamo, the first to recover, extends a hand for a hearty shake and begins the round of introductions. His experience of being the big, black, southern queer has given him a deep respect for those who stand out and proud in their difference, and an ability to take anyone at face value regardless of how the present themselves to the world.

“I cannot tell you what it means to me that you have all come so far, but I am afraid our journey is not over yet. We have a long way to go and in more ways than one.”

“So why are we meeting at Kings Cross, Albus? Is Filius here?”

“Oh, no no no, my good chap, he’s not here. We shall have to take a journey to go and see him. He’s up at the school, deep in preparation for the next year. The staff return a week before the students, to set everything to rights before everyone arrives.”

“Great, so where is the school?”

“I’m afraid I cannot tell you. But I can take you there.”

“Wait, what did you … I mean...?”

“Do not be perplexed Bobby. All will become clear. In the mean time, you will all need one of these.”

Albus is handing out tickets. But they don’t look anything like the train tickets that Tan remembers from when he lived in London. These aren’t small, orange and white striped cards. They are large, golden in colour, with immaculate copperplate writing. The destination is listed as ‘Hogsmeade’, and the platform is emblazoned across the front as ‘Platform 9 ¾ ‘

“Albus is this some kind of joke?”

“A Joke? Not at all Antoni. But I confess it will be a little confusing and will require some explanations as we go. But for now, we have a long journey to make. Could you all come with me please…

Albus leads them over to a wall between the platforms 8 and 9. He puts an arm around Jonathan, who is clearly delighted.

“Are you ready to go on an adventure dear boy?”

“With you Albus? Anywhere…!”

“Good, good, That’s good. Best do it at a bit of a run if you’re scared.”

“Do what at a bit of a run?”

“This…”

Albus suddenly, forcefully takes Jonathan by the shoulders, turns him to face the wall, and shoves him towards the wall, hard and fast.

The others move to call out, remonstrate. Karamo has a vision flash before his eyes of Jonathan lying bleeding on the floor before them. Except he isn’t. In fact, he’s nowhere to be seen.

“What… what did you … where did he go?”

“He’s on the platform. Waiting for us.”

“On the platform. Beyond the wall.”

Karamo blinks, turns to the others, who can’t explain the very simple thing they just saw happen before their own eyes.

“Beyond the wall?” says Bobby.

Albus smiles. “Yes. Beyond the wall.”

Bobby suddenly turns. Looks at the wall. Before Antoni can reach out and stop him, he runs full tilt at the wall.

And suddenly, he vanishes. Nobody can quite explain how it happens. But now Bobby is gone too.

“Albus… is that wall real?”

“Absolutely read, my dear Tan.”

“Then how did?”

“Let me ask you this … do you believe that your friends are standing on the otherside?”

“... Yes.”

“Then you are half way to believing yourself. And therefore, half way there.”

Tan turns to Antoni and holds out a hand. He turns to Karamo, repeating the gesture.

“Yes yes, that’s good. Now. After three.”

The three men all link hands.

“All together now. One, two … three!”

Feeling like school children in a playground, all three of them, alongside Albus run full tilt at the wall …

*

Bobby just has time to pull Jonathan out of the way from his skipping and cavorting routine as Karamo, Tan and Antoni crash through the wall behind them.

“Oh my God, Oh my God… guys! GUYS! You have to see this…”

Suddenly Karamo finds himself being dragged bodily around a corner. A strange sound fills his ears, a puffing, almost like a wind blowing, before a shrieking whistle fills the air. Standing before him is a scarlet steam train, the sort that used to appear in the old wild west films, apart from its startling colour. In large golden lettering, the words ‘Hogwarts Express’ are boldly embossed across the front.

“Well gentlemen,” Albus strides ahead, throwing a gleaming smile over his shoulder as he checks and snaps shut an impressive golden pocket watch. “That’s our warning. The train is about to leave. We must make sure we are all aboard…”

[leah-halliwell92]

The Adventures of Aiya Took

Summary: Aiya (Eye-ya) Blossom Took is the niece of one Bilbo Baggins of Bag End. She came to live in Bag End with her uncle when it was discovered that her parents had been ambushed by a caravan coming to the Shire from the Blue Mountains.

Aiya saw the grey point of the hat before she saw the wizard himself from her perch on a hill near Bag End and couldn't help the excitement that bubbled in her belly. She ran down the hill and made her way to where he was now talking to her uncle Bilbo.

"Gandalf!" She screamed excitement clear in her voice and features.

Gandalf's face broke into a wide smile as he got down on one knee arms open to greet the young lady hobbit running full steam his way.

”Goodness could this be little Aiya Took I’m seeing?” He asked with a twinkle in his eye.

Aiya giggles as his mustache and beard tickle her cheeks as he presses a kiss to them and nods excitedly her black waves swaying.  

“What brings you this way today Gandalf?” She asks as she pulls away.

“Oh you remember him now do you?” She heard Bilbo ask sarcastically and clearly annoyed.

Aiya looked at her uncle and said, “Of course I do Uncle. He’s the one that would tell me stories like mama and papa would. And he got me my first bow with papa too.”

Gandalf nodded sadly at the girl knowing that her parents deaths were still weighing her. Especially since going to live with Bilbo Baggins.

Aiya smirked at reading the old wizard’s thoughts and quietly muttered, “Baggins’ and their respectability.”

Gandalf gave her a knowing chuckle and wink.

“As I was telling your uncle, I’m looking for someone to share in an adventure,” he said voice filled with temptation.

Aiya squealed at the prospect of finally being able to go beyond the borders of the Shire.

“There’ll be no need for that here Gandalf,” Bilbo said hastily going to the green door, “Come back inside Blossom!”

But before he could say more to her he had gone inside tale between his legs.

Aiya shook her head and looked up at Gandalf and asked, “So...What’ll be needed for this adventure?”

Gandalf once again got down to her level and explained that in due time there would be a meeting that needed to take place and that an abundance of food will be needed for such a hefty group. He also mentioned that should she decide to go she needed to prepare for long distance travels.

Aiya nodded and bid her goodbyes.

‘There’s lots to do before the meeting,’ She thought as she slipped into Bag End for her basket and cloak to go to market.

Aiya was able to pre-make a lot of the food for the pending gathering while still leaving enough for herself and Bilbo. To outsiders, the cooking might be a bit overboard but she had a nagging feeling that most of it would be put to good use. She took great care in making her honey, herb and French bread and setting some aside for the trip.

‘That should do it,’ She thought with a satisfied grin.

“Uncle Bilbo time for half noon tea!” Aiya called setting the plates, cups and food.

“What could have that crazy wizard been thinking of coming here looking for someone to join in an adventure...we’re Baggins!” He said as he sat.

Aiya grinned at her uncle sadly and said, “As grateful as I am for you taking me in uncle, I’m no Baggins I am a Took. And tools are known for their rather in-Hobbit like traits and behaviors.”

With this said, Aiya put away her plates and tea cup and went to put her pack together. She found her mother’s knives and her father’s bow and quiver and put them on the bed. Her pack was out and already filled with two pairs of trousers, items needed to bind her breasts, shirts and vests. Her small first aid kit was soon in the pack as well. Knowing there wasn’t much room for home comforts, she didn’t even think of taking any books or the like. Aiya took note to speak to the Thain about providing a tenant for Bag Rnd should her uncle leave with them as well. Taking some handkerchiefs Aiya Took great care in wrapping the loaves of bread and making a separate pack for food, her sweeping roll and blanket.

And before either Hobbit knew the night of the gathering had arrived. Aiya had done a good job at hiding her excitement and continued arranging and rearranging her pack so it was easier to carry to keep busy and keep her uncle from guessing or discovering that she has every intention on going on this adventure.

One by one the company of what she now knew to be dwarves arrived.

“I’ll get it,” Aiya said when the first knock rang through Bag End.

She opened to door and was met with a burly looking dwarf.

“Dwalin at your service miss,” he said with a bow.

Aiya gave a curtsy of her own and replied, “Aiya Took at yours Master Dwalin please come in.”

Dwalin nodded his thanks and went through.

“Could you please remove your boots, cape and weapons and set them down here please?” She asked as she saw Bilbo come in.

“What-?” He said flabbergasted.

“Gandalf warned there would be company uncle and it would be rude to turn the out,” Aiya said as she guided Dwalin to the dining room.

Between the two the tables were prepared and the food she had finished set up.

Aiya looked up when another knock rang throuhg the smial.

“That would be me brother,” Dwalin said to Aiya.

Aiya nodded with a smile and went to receive said brother.

“Balin at your service,” said the white haired dwarf with a warm smile.

Aiya nearly teared up at the warmth.

‘Something tells me Da would have liked this dwarf,’ Aiya thought as she repeated the same curtsy and welcome she had done with Balin.

“Could you please remove your boots? There’s a place there for them as well as your cloak and weapons,” Aiya said as she turned to be greeted a pair of what she was sure were the most adorable puppies she had ever seen.

“Fíli,” the blonde said.

“And Kíli,” the dark haired one said.

And with a flourish and bow ended, “At your service.”

But before she could say anything Kíli said, “You must me Missy Took,” And proceeded to enter the smial at full speed.

“Hold it!” She said forcefully.

Both boys stopped and all those present looked at her in surprise at her outburst.

“Boots off and by Masters Dwalin’s and Balin’s along with weapons and coats or capes. I’ll not have the floor caked with mud because two boys seem to have forgone their manners,” Aiya said as she went to the kitchen to take the pies she had been baking out of the oven.

Dwalin and Balin snickered as the boys followed the instructions given as if their own mother had given them and couldn’t help but be more than a little pleased and intrigued at the small lass’ fiery personality.

Mas the rest of their group finally treacle’s in the brother made sure that all the company was made aware of their barefootedness as well as any and all weapons being placed aside as well.

“There all is prepared now Gandalf I believe introductions are in order,” Aiya said as she stepped into the foyer.

And so Gandalf introduced Oín and Gloin, Dori, Nori and Ori, Bifur, Bofur And Bomber to one (still speechless) Bilbo Baggins and Aiya Took.

Aiya curtsied and led the merry group and proceed to feed them.

“Is that blueberry?” Kíli asked eying the sweet confection.

Aiya nodded proudly and said, “Yes it is. Would you like a slice?”

The young dwarf nodded eagerly and so deserts were passed around.

Aiya was mindful to put aside a hefty portion of the food and blueberry pie for the last member of the company.

Aiya laughed along with the dwarves as they cleaned the plates and couldn’t help but giggle at her poor uncle trying to stop the lot.

Not a moment later there was a powerful knock on the door and Aiya went followed by Gandalf to greet their remaining guest.

Aiya was struck by the pair Of cerulean blue eyes that greeted her.

“Gandalf I thought you said this place was easy to find, I got lost twice looking for it,” the raven haired dwarf said.

Bilbo blustered as Gandalf revealed there was a mark left for those to enter.

“Aiya Took, Bilbo Baggins this is the leader of our company Thorin Oakenshield,” Gandalf said.

Aiya gave a low curtsy recognizing the name of he future king of the Lonely Mountain.

“So these are the hobbits,” he said looking them clearly not impressed.

“She looks more like a barmaid than a burglar,” he said of handled your and made to go into the dining room.

The room went still and the company quiet knowing that something was sure to come to pass.

“Stop right there master dwarf. King or not one does not enter another’s home and insult them when said host is going to offer you food and shelter now if you wish for either I suggest you take of your boots and weapons and places the along side those of your kin,” Aiya said he hair falling from her bun the fire in her jade green eyes leaving no room for argument.

“You better do as she says uncle she’s scary,” Aiya heard Kíli say.

With a smirk she said, “I’m not surprised they’re your nephews they act like paupers more than princes.”

Thorin was left speechless. No one had ever put the dwarf king in his place. Well no one had had enough nerve to do so at least. And the beauty in front of him has a fire he had not seen in another in a long time.

Thorin never thought that smooth cheeks and glowing jewel like green eyes would captivate him as much they had done at that moment.

Aiya looked at Thorin with raised brows and said, “Well do you wish to eat? I’ve set aside some food and blueberry pie for you.”

That seemed to snap the dwarf from his stuppor.

“Blueberry? He asked wonder in his voice.

“My mother’s recipe, so please do hurry so you can wash up to eat,” she said as if speaking to a fauntling.

Thorin nodded and hung his coat up before making his way to the kitchen to wash his hands and settle for dinner.

Thorin was impressed with the quantity the lass was able to hold for him and could not have been more grateful.

“If I may ask how did you know his title?” Balin asked curiously.

“I read a lot. I found book of dwarven kingdoms as well as their monarchs last time I went to Imladris,” Aiya said as she poured more ale into Thorin’s mug.

The dwarves shuddered at that but Balin had to admit he is impressed.

And so the meeting commenced. With Thorin eating his fill and Aiya listening quietly as the quest unfolded before her.

“You mentioned pie whilst you put me and mine in our respective places my lady,” Thorin said kindly to the surprise of all around.

Aiya smirked playfully at him and said, “That I did. But to be clear I was putting you in your place...your nephews ears have already been twisted by me.”

Thorin gave a deep chuckle and nodded appreciatively.

“Your pie sir,” she said placing a hefty slice of the pie in front of him.

Thorin was left flabbergasted for the second time that night as he savored the freshly baked pie.

‘It tastes like...home,’ he thought as he inhaled the rest of the pie.

Balin looked at the pair and just knew things were bound to get interesting from there on out.

And poor Bilbo was still processing the fact that a horde of dwarves and a wizard are in his smial.

Tag List: @fizzy-custard, @patanghill17, @fandomgalcentral, @imagines-for-multiple-fandoms, @theimaginesyouneveraskedfor, @disneymarina