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jamilelucato · 4 years ago

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Best Teacher, Part 1 || Fred Weasley

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Slytherin!reader

Summary: y/N is a pureblood Slytherin best friends with Harry Potter, but not yet that close to the Weasleys until she’s invited to spend Christmas with them.

PART 2 HERE

PART 3 HERE

A/N: So yeah, we’re not even close to Christmas, but this idea popped in my mind and I had to write. Yes, out of nowhere I got into this Harry Potter vibe, who can explain?

*gif below not mine

Being friends with Harry Potter had always been something you were proud to have achieved. Harry was not only a nice guy and great friend, but he was also very famous, so having his friendship gave you some kind of popularity that being a Slytherin you would not have achieved on your own.

You couldn’t exactly point a finger to when your friendship began, but it was around your second year. Now, that you are a fourth-year student, your friendship is really solid. You care deeply for Harry, proving your loyalty to him many times by now.

He had other friends, but you hadn't talked to most of them yet. Hermione was kind of cool, she didn't bother with the fact that you were a pureblood and a Slytherin since you never showed any kind of prejudice against who she was — a muggle-born.

Ron Weasley, on the other hand, was somewhat of a problem. He ignored you most of the time you were with them, avoiding talking to you. He never actually said a bad thing about you — that you had proved of — but you believed he did behind your back since any of the Weasley talked to either. They never even tried.

Percy was too old for you to even have anything in common to say, besides, by now, he's no longer a Hogwarts student. The only Weasleys left were the Twins and Ginny. Ginny was too busy to have time for you, although you had the impression that she didn't like you simply because of your friendship with Harry.

The Twins, George and Fred, were kind of mystery in this matter of "do they like me or not". They were always playing jokes against the Slytherin house, so more times than often, you were a victim of their pranks. Although you didn't think it was their purpose to hit you, they never apologised. George had spoken to you, one or two words, generally, to make fun of the situation you and Harry were involved, but Fred never said a thing.

Even when he had to study a year next to you during Snape's classes (the Professor got angry because Fred and George never shut up, and made them split), he never talked to you. Staring, though, he did a lot. You couldn't help but do the same. He was beautiful — in your opinion, the most beautiful of the Weasley, maybe being a tie when it came to George — and, since he always started the stares, you didn't felt the guilt of looking back.

It wasn't like he was disgusted by you, it felt like he was just curious. Sometimes, when you got wrong with the potions, he looked scared. You couldn't blame him, because you were a real nightmare when you got some lesson wrong.

"So, what are you doing for Christmas, Harry?" you asked your friend once you met him on the corridor, after a long period of staring Fred during one of Snape's class.

Being an orphan and living with a terrible family, Harry hated going back home for the holidays, so, most of the time, he stayed in Hogwarts. You felt so bad, that you used to insist on him to come to spend the holiday with you and your family. Maybe they weren't the happiest family during the season, but you were sure your parents would try to impress Potter since they had him in a very high status.

"I'm going the Burrow" he answered, holding his books closer to his chest. By now, you already knew the Burrow was the residence of the Weasleys, and listening to that info made you involuntarily sigh. "What's wrong?" your friend looked at you, confused.

"Nothing. I was just expecting you to finally come to spend the holiday with me and maybe I wouldn't feel so sad" you explained, making sure your puppy face was out, trying to change his mind by being too cute.

He only smiled, kinda relieved. "Well, you could always come with me. I'm sure Mrs Weasley wouldn't mind, she even said I could bring someone with me"

You showed your teeth, frowning. You were sure Mrs Weasley was a nice person, you knew how well she treated Harry, but you were no Gryffindor orphan friends with her kids.

Would be nice to be around such a happy family for Christmas though.

"Thanks, Harry, but I guess I'll have to say no to that. The Weasley didn't really invite me so..." you were saying but got interrupted.

"You surely should come. I'm a Weasley, consider yourself invited" Ginny showed up out of nowhere, accompanying you two in your walk to the Great Hall.

You looked surprised. "Still, I..."

"Come, 'cause I will warn my mom and if you aren't there, she'll find you herself," she remarked, making Harry shake his head in agreement.

"Okay, maybe I'll turn up" you finally agreed, slowly bowing your head, scared of what you just said yes to.

"Now, can I steal Harry from you for a second?" she asked, already escorting him away from you.

"Sure" you answered, but they both couldn't be seen anymore.

***

When the day to leave Hogwarts came, Harry waited for you in front of the Slytherin common room. He got some stares, but he didn't seem to care, smiling when he finally saw me.

"Harry, what are you doing here?"

"Ginny asked me to make sure you'd come. She said her mom was anxious to meet you" he answered, getting his bags from the floor.

"Still don't get it. Why would Ginny want me there? We're not really friends" you pointed out, walking down the corridor.

"I suppose she knows how much would it mean to me to have my friends around during this dark time" he answered, giving real thought to it "Shes a nice lad, Ginny"

"Yeah, I know" you commented, elbowing him, just to mess around, He blushed. "But I'm glad to be going. My parents don't believe in celebrations, so we generally just stay home, and eat dinner earlier during Christmas"

"So this will be different for you. The Weasleys stay up until late" Potter explained.

We had finally arrived inside the train.

"I think I'll like the change," you said, before settling down with Harry, Ron and Hermione in one cabin.

Ron was mostly quiet during the whole trip, but Hermione filled the silence with a bunch of random information. She was said she could not spend the holiday with the Weasleys but she didn't want you to forget to write to her everything that happened during your time there.

"Including me?" you asked, confused if she wanted you to write her as well.

"Well, of course! I need a female opinion about what happened as well" she replied, with a smile, hugging you not too tight.

You smiled back, happy with the request.

"Hermione, it's ‘what might happen’ ". It'll probably be another boring week" Ron finally spoke, shocking me to hear his voice. Remarkably because he was correcting Hermione, which is, again, a shock.

"Ha! As if Fred and George wouldn't prank anyone!" she claimed, and we all just laugh, because it was certain that they had something planned for the holiday. You just had to wait to see.

Bags in hand, you all didn't have to wait long to see Mr and Mrs Weasley in the crowd. They waved, making Ginny run in their direction. Ron walked behind her, not as happy to see his parents. Harry was next in line, leaving you with Fred and George because you were having some trouble with how heavy your bags were. It didn't occur to you that you wouldn't need as many clothes as you planned for just one week away.

One of the twins nudged the other, who then showed up right next to you. "Need any help?" the nudged one offered, throwing his only bag on his shoulder and offering you a helping hand.

It was only when you faced the twin that you realized it was Fred. He had a small freckle next to his chin that George hadn't.

The help made you confuse if you should accept or not, but George added over his shoulder. "If you don't accept, mom will be angry at us and then I'll be angry at you"

You sighted. "Okay, I'll take your help" you agreed, giving Fred one of your bags "Thanks, Fred" you added, making he amazed with the fact that you differed him from his brother.

"Always here for you" he answered, attempting to be funny, but sounding more serious than he should.

You both walked a bit faster, trying to catch up to the rest of the group. Mrs Weasley, a short warm lady was still hugging Harry in a very, very tight hug when you and Fred finally got there.

She let Harry Potter go when she caught your face. "Oh! You must be the one Ginny told me about! y/N, isn't it?" she asked, walking closer to you.

"Prepare yourself" Fred tilted his head in your direction, whispering advice. You only had time to look at his direction before being sucked into a tight hug from Mrs Weasley.

"Nice meeting you, Mrs Weasley," you said once she loosened the embrace, allowing you not just to talk but also to breath. Fred hid a smile at your side.

"Please, call me Molly" she entreated. You smiled at her, in a way of showing that you'd do as asked. She held your hand to show you where to go.

Mr Weasley only had the chance to wave at you, since Mrs Weasley was leading you surprisingly fast for such a small person, still, you managed to wave back, without dropping your bag. While walking, you could hear the laughs around you, swearing you were recognizing Fred's, because it was probably the loudest.

Harry caught up to you two, walking next to you when he commented: "I said you'd be welcomed".

***

Lastly inside the Burrow, Ginny guided you to her room, where you'd be sleeping. Fred followed you, dropping carefully your bag on the floor, just before leaving to his room.

The house was way smaller than yours, however, that wasn't a problem for you. It did feel very welcoming, with a warmth that was very welcomed in such cold weather. Ginny had a mattress on the floor for you, which was more than you could have asked, showing up like that, practically uninvited.

"I feel like I haven't thanked you properly for allowing me here, Ginny. Feels good to be around a big happy family for the holiday" you said to her when you both were going back to downstairs.

"Hey, y/N, no worries. I don't bother with a full house, and I need another girl around to handle these many boys" she retorted, making me laugh.

"Just out of curiosity, did you tell your mom everything about me?"

"Everything?" she repeated, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, like, I'm Slytherin and all" you explained.

She pulled her bright red hair back before answering. "Well, no. Not that it would matter. She would need only to look at you"

"What do you mean?" you were confused by what she had said, scared that you could have an evil face or something like that.

"You shine with power, y/N. That Sorting hat would be a scam if it hadn't put you in Slytherin" she explained, avoiding looking at you.

You were about to ask what she had meant with that when Mrs Weasley appeared in front of you. "Ginny, come, I need your help"

The girl followed her mom with a frowny face, not very happy with losing free time with Molly.

Without anyone to talk, you went outside the Burrow, just to stare at the sky, not knowing exactly what to do. You planned on finding Potter, but he wasn't outside once you got there.

"And Hermione thought I'd have something to tell" you mumbled, not to anyone, in particular, getting surprised when you noticed you had been heard.

"What did you just say?" a masculine voice asked, making you turn your face to look back.

Fred and George were walking in your direction, both with a smirk on their faces. With their faces a little away you couldn't differ each from the other, especially because they changed their shirts to red sweaters.

"Me? Nothing" you said, looking away from them.

"I heard something, didn't you too, brother?" one of them asked, in a mocking tone.

"I did, Freddie," George asked, sitting next to me on the grass "So what was it?"

"It what?" you replied, trying to mock as well.

Fred sat on your other side and look at you. "What did you complain, darling?"

The "darling" was like a weak spot for you, almost forcing you to confess. "Hermione asked me to write to her everything that happens during my time in here" you explained, a little angry at yourself for spilling the tea.

"Your complaint is because you hate writing?" George asked, looking at you confused.

"Definitely not, brother, she writes a lot more than necessary" Fred was the one that answered, smirking lightly.

You stared back at Fred, with a mix of feeling because of what he had said. Happy because he noticed, but interested in why he noticed.

"I do?" you asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

He swallowed hard before answering. "I, for instance, don't write a thing during Snape's class, but you can't keep your hand down".

You smiled. "Well, of course! I need to write down the things he says, otherwise, I get everything wrong. You just don't care about getting everything wrong."

"Potion's classes are only cool when there are explosions" Fred affirmed, closing his eyes for a second. You took the moment to contemplate his lovely face in the sunlight.

"Agreed, brother" George said on your side, stopping you from keeping with the stare. "So, y/N, what's your problem with writing to Hermione then?"

You pressed your lips together, embarrassed to answer. "It's just... I don't know any of you enough to have stories to tell her."

Fred and George exchanged a suspicious look before facing me again. George even replaced himself in the grass, so he could face me better.

"That's something we can resolve," Fred said, smiling while shaking his head up and down, nonstop.

"We can make you have tons of things to tell Hermione" George added.

"I bet she'll be happy to hear about everything the Weasley's Twins have been doing" Fred commented, making his brother laugh and making you worried.

"Why do I feel like I'm gonna regret this?"

"Oh, y/N, because you will" answered Fred, smiling so bright that all his teeth were showing.

***

Since you had arrived on a Saturday and Christmas was only on Friday, you, Fred and George had not many events to attend as such exchanging presents or singing carols.

The Twins planned to steal you to a bunch of activities, that, according to Fred, had all been schedule so every day you'd have a new prank to assist. Yeah, assist. They were not only making you their accomplice but also their partner.

It was late in the night, yet on Saturday, that your first task happened. You were sleeping on the floor of Ginny's room when you heard the slight knock on the door. Not used with sleeping in a crowded house, you were able to wake fast, visibly scared.

You ran your finger through your hair, attempting to look better even though you were with a sleep face in your nightclothes. You tried to open the door without waking Ginny up, but, by the looks of her, she would need a loud hard-core rock playing to wake.

"Fred? George? What are you guys doing here at... what time is it?" you asked, walking out of the room and closing the door behind you.

"It's almost five A.M. but that's not the point" one of them answered, but the darkness didn't allow you to distinguish which.

"Five A.M?" you repeated, a little louder than you planned, just to get a "shhh!" from the twins.

"Follow us, come on" one of them instructed, getting down by the stairs.

You followed, although scared of what were they planning. One of them said "Lumos" to get a little light on your way, which you were thankful, because you practically couldn't see a thing since the sun wasn't out yet.

When you arrived in the kitchen, they finally stopped walking.

"We decided that our first prank should be a breakfast one," one of them said, and you recognized it was Fred because of his pyjamas, it had an "F" in front of his jumper.

"What is breakfast prank?"

"y/N, you do know nothing about pranks, do you?" George asked, laughing a bit.

You nodded, ashamed. You were only close to Harry, and he wasn't much of a prankster. You had other Slytherin friends, but you used to only talk to them about your house points and to ask for help to study; therefore, besides not having someone to teach you how to fool everybody, you also didn't have someone to fool.

"George and I thought of a food colouring spell" Fred explained the plan to you, ignoring the fact that you had never pranked anybody before.

"Is there such a thing?" you questioned. You were not the smartest witch, but you had never heard of such spell before.

"I came up with it" Fred revealed, pressing his lips together, a mix of ashamed and proud.

You looked at him, amazed. The Twins didn't have the best grades in Hogwarts, but that was just because they didn't want to be good at academics. They were good at what they wanted to be good.

"It will turn everything mom cooks black like she burned it" George continued, going toward the stove.

He and Fred got their wands and cast the words, but you were still analysing the impact of such a prank.

"Doesn't seem like such a nightmare" you pointed out, once they had finished and were laughing a bit louder than they should.

They both froze at your words, turning their faces in your direction like you had just said you-know-who's name.

"What?" you didn't understand their shock.

"Did you just say we made a bad prank?" Fred asked, without relaxing his face.

"It's not bad, it's just simple" you corrected, much for their surprise, making they gasp with your words.

"A too simple prank? Did you hear that, Fred?" George faced his brother, not moving his body.

Oh, Merlin, what had you done.

"I heard that. I feel like she's challenging us" he answered, arching an eyebrow.

"We should not run from a challenge, though" George pointed out, squinting.

"And she should participate as well since she doubted us" Fred added, looking back at you.

"I thought I was already your partner in crime," you said, holding your laugh.

"Go back to bed, dear y/N. And be prepared" Fred advised, trying to make a mysterious face but failing.

"We'll find you when we're ready" George added, copying his brother's face.

You no longer could hold your laugh, letting it out but trying to make it not as loud as it usually was. Shaking your head, unable to conform with what you were hearing, you headed back to the stairs, to go to Ginny's room.

"She's mocking us, brother" you heard when you were going up the stairs.

"Indeed she is" the other twin agreed.

***

On Sunday morning, a black breakfast awaited you, one you could only smile at, trying to pretend you knew nothing about.

Ginny didn't seem confused though.

Sitting on the table, Fred and George laughed hard, listening to their mother's complaint.

"Do you boys know how many eggs I threw away before I realised you've cast a spell on my stove? Do you think the Ministery will be happy to hear you've been performing magic outside of school?" their mother snapped.

"Who said it was us, mom?" George questioned.

You were again able to differ him from his brother because of his jumper. This time, a green one, where Twin #2 could be read. You knew it had to be George since he was the second born, as pointed out by Hermione once.

" 'Who said it was us' " his mom repeated, in a mocking tone, using a newspaper to hit them in the back of their heads.

You laughed hard of the scene, almost ashamed of the doing until Harry and Ginny started laughing with you, which only made you wanna laugh more.

You sat down on the only left chair available, in the middle of Fred and Ginny. The 'Twin #1' fastly moved his head in your direction.

"We have planned the biggest prank ever" he whispered so only you could hear.

You smirked. "Do you guys ever chill?"

"Never" he answered, smiling back at you.

"Percy is coming by Wednesday but Bill and Charlie won't be able to come" Mrs Weasley informed while putting a fried egg at the plate in front of you.

"Thanks, Mrs Weasley, you didn't have to," you said but was glad by her act since you were hungry. Even though the egg was pitch black, it still smelled genuinely good.

"Molly, dear" she corrected you.

The boys next to you sighted.

"Are you kidding me? The worst of us is coming but the cool ones no?" Fred asked, frowning his forehead.

Molly hit him in the head again. "More respect with your older brother," she demanded, but he rapidly ignored, rolling his eyes followed by his twin and Ron.

You had no idea what to expect from Percy since he didn't have much fame in his household. You remembered his appearance, redhaired just like the others, but you never talked to him, so you had no idea if he was all that bad.

After breakfast, the family got outside to play quidditch, and you, not knowing how to play, stayed sitting on the grass, just observing the game. Mr Weasley stood next to you, not sitting, but facing you still.

"Not gonna play, y/N?" he asked. "They surely are missing one"

"Oh, no, Mr Weasley. I have no idea how to" you answered, embarrassed when he acknowledge your words.

"Are you serious?" he questioned. "I can't believe the boys haven't taught you yet"

"I don't think they know" you replied, looking back at them, while they were sorting their teams.

"Hey, boys!" Mr Weasley called, making your friends face in your direction. You could feel your cheeks going red. "Can you guys teach y/N how to play quidditch? She doesn't know"

"What?!" you heard and assumed it came from Fred because he was trotting in your direction. "You actually don't know how to play?"

You shook your head a 'no'.

"Well, then, you have to learn!" George urged, following his brother.

"Come on, we'll teach you". Fred, now closer to you, reached for your hand, and strongly pulled you up.

"No, guys, it doesn’t bother me not knowing..." you started but Fred interrupted.

"You have the chance to learn with the best, y/N, let's go" he bagged, distorting his face so his eyes looked bigger. "Please"

You sniffed. "Ok, fine" you surrendered, making Fred smile. He pulled you closer to him, passing one of his arms around your shoulders. When you two passed through George, he followed you, embracing you from the other side, copying his brother.

"She's on my team!" Fred shouted to the rest of the players, causing Ron to roll his eyes, Harry to laugh, and Ginny to clap fervently, jumping with happiness.

You could now, more them before, feel the red on your cheeks, and you could only imagine it was redder than the Weasleys' hair.

"Get ready to become the best at quidditch, y/N" Fred whispered on your ear when his brother let you go.

"Oh, yeah?" you faked confusion.

"After all, you have the best teacher for yourself" he explained, which caused you to burst out laughing.

___

Part 2

#fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x slytherin reader #harry potter #hp #fred and george #george weasley #imagine #hp imagine #slytherin reader #quidditch #christmas #christmas imagines

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lov3nerdstuff · 4 years ago

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Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 6.4}

*Severus Snape x OC*

Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.

General warnings: professor x student, blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 4.7k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

______________________________

The moment they were back in Snape's office, Robin got started on making them coffee. It was early afternoon by now, and she was well aware that there still was plenty of work to be done before they could move on over to the lab. Once again she offered her help with his work, but his (admittedly very much justified) objection remained that he couldn't let her grade other students' essays, and Robin had to accept that. Thus she merely sat down at the smaller table with her own coffee after handing him his, and henceforth listened to him complaining about the many stupid mistakes the second years had made in their essays. Eventually it became a real game between them, to keep a list of the most ridiculous things people had written in their essays, and to rank them by their level of idiocy. Robin, void of anything else to do for once, actually wrote it all down on a piece of parchment, both the most ridiculous statements and the ranking points they had given them.

In the end, they successfully managed to miss dinner entirely, as their game was more entertaining than either of them had anticipated. But the work was done, and Robin was proud to say that she had made it less dreadful for him after all. Even if not entirely on purpose, but still very much willingly.

"You know, you could probably fill an entire lesson just with reading out the dumbest quotes on this list and have the students figure out why it's so wrong." Robin sighed with a smirk as she stretched in her chair. The piece of parchment in front of her looked almost like a piece of art at this point, littered not only with the most desperately wrong quotes from the essays, but also Robin's corrections of them, as well as some extended elaborations on the matter and little drawings of ingredients. Yes, she had been that bored between judging ridiculous quotes.

"I could. Should I, however?" He raised an eyebrow at Robin with a not-smirk while he got up from behind his desk at last, only to sit down again across from her at the small table. Without taking his eyes off hers, he snatched the piece of parchment out from under her fingertips and only then lowered his gaze to inspect it. A few seconds passed before he frowned, and Robin smiled.

"I think you should." She remarked innocently, replying to his earlier question while leaning back in her chair. "Have them correct the mistakes, that is, not mock the person who made them."

"I am surprised that you bothered to correct them."

"Didn't have much else to do between judging students' idiocracy. Besides, at this point I really should know the second year topics, shouldn't I? Did them twice, after all."

"Twice because…?"

"Once in my own second year and then again last year when tutoring Jorien and Cas. So technically I only did them once, and then tried to teach them a second time."

"You still tutor your roommates regularly?"

"Yeah." Robin shrugged with a smile. "Not just them though, and by far not only in potions. Just this morning I actually had sixteen students, can you imagine?! Sixteen thirteen-year-olds! And they actually listened to what I said!!!"

Now Snape's eyebrows rose in surprise, but the not-smirk turned into a real one; small, but definitely visible. "I had no idea that was even a possibility."

"Me neither!" Robin laughed, then kept on grinning. "So, just in case you get a suspicious amount of high quality essays from your third years next week, you know who to blame. Or who to thank."

"We will see about that." He replied with the same smirk, but then continued on a more serious note as he took another look at the parchment in his hands. "May I keep this?"

"Sure." Robin shrugged easily, and for whatever reason her heart skipped a beat. "I hope you can decipher all of it… I didn't specifically try for readability."

"I have been reading your handwriting for years, Robin. Not only in tests or essays written specifically to be handed in, but in scribbles and working notes as well. I would even say I know it quite as well as my own."

"Good." Robin couldn't help grinning at him with enough excitement to make him frown a little in suspicion. Before he could ask however, she had already summoned her handbook out of her backpack and dropped it on the table in front of him with a dull thud. "Because there's something else I have been dying to show you."

_______________

A quiet rustling of sheets, soft breathing, hushed whispers. "Robin…" The mattress dipped gently at her side. She smiled, curling a little closer around the new source of warmth. "ROBIN!!!"

She jumped at the loud voice, sitting up with a start, and her head bumped against something hard in an instant.

"Ow…" She grumbled with a deep frown, rubbing her now aching forehead in an instant, while her eyes finally went into focus enough to see Cas sitting in front of her on her bed, rubbing her forehead just the same. Jorien sat on the other side, laughing at both their misery without a hint of guilt or pity.

"Very funny, you guys…" Robin groaned tiredly as she crossed her legs underneath her to make room for the two girls. "The last time you woke me up like this was-..."

"Happy birthday, Robin!" Both girls cheered before she could finish her sentence, and Robin had to smile despite the small mishap.

"Thank you! Is it really the twentieth already? Again?" She sighed, but by now she knew that resistance to Cas was hard, and resistance to Jorien was entirely futile.

"Twentieth of October, six o'clock in the morning!" Cas grinned, and crossed her legs as well while Jorien followed suit a few seconds later.

"Six?! Good gods…" Robin groaned exaggeratedly and frowned at them with a desperate smile. "Why on earth would you wake me up this early?"

"Because it's Thursday and our present for you requires some time before breakfast." Jorien replied factually, and Cas nodded in her usual giddy eagerness.

"Do I need to be scared?" Robin inquired with a raised eyebrow and an amused smile. She knew that look on their faces, and she knew that they were up to something. A second later, a small box very much like the one she had received last year was placed in her lap and Robin opened it with a curious smile. When her eyes fell onto the contents however, her brows furrowed, and she looked up at Cas and Jorien with a big question mark on her face.

"We're not doing anything you don't want to, of course… But you liked those onyx earrings so much when we went to Hogsmeade, so we decided to get them for you." Cas shrugged with an excited smile, and Jorien merely nodded in no less amusement.

"That is very sweet of you, but you realize that I don't actually have any holes in my ears but the ones nature demands, yes?"

"Yet. That is part of the present." Cas replied mischievously, and both girls smiled at Robin in a way that made her realize that they were absolutely serious in what they were planning to do. It humored her more than it probably should have.

"Alright." Robin said with an easy smile. "Thank you for the lovely present. If you take joy in stabbing holes into my skin, feel free to. I don't mind."

"Wait… really?!" Cas frowned incredulously. "I thought you were going to protest! I prepared an entire speech to convince you that it was for the best!"

"I told you she would be all for it." Jorien shrugged at her friend, with a humored smile similar to the one Robin wore herself. "And you didn't write a speech, you practiced saying 'please' in as many ways as possible."

"Don't tell her that!" Cas protested with a roll of her eyes, and Robin merely had to chuckle at the two of them. They were like an old married couple sometimes, and it was hilarious and adorable at once to observe. Cas turned to Robin once again. "Anyway, we asked McGonagall for a spell to pierce your ears that wouldn't blow your head off along the way, so you don't have to worry about a thing. It's all approved and safe for use."

"I'm not worried." Robin replied easily, and really she thought the idea was rather sweet. It was such a typical teenager thing to do… something of the kind she had never spent a second thinking about before now. But to Cas and Jorien it actually seemed to be of immense importance to do this themselves, and Robin felt touched that they included her in their spark of youthful rebellion. And she wouldn't mind getting her ears pierced after all. "So… You actually asked McGonagall for a spell?"

"Who did you expect us to ask?! What Professor Snape is for you, McGonagall is for Jorien. I'm just swimming on her wave." Cas explained, then motioned for Jorien to go ahead and do the actual work. A typical Cas move, giving the speech and leaving the work for someone else. "This is probably going to hurt, so you might want to grab something."

"Don't worry, it takes a lot to hurt me these days." Robin sighed and for once, she would just have to trust them; there wasn't much that could go wrong anyway. "But try to keep my head intact, alright?"

Ten minutes later, and luckily without any accidents, Robin had two neat holes in her ears and could at last make use of the gift she'd received. Two studs of black onyx, small but just as gorgeous as she remembered them to be from the two times they had looked at them through the shopwindow in Hogsmeade. She smiled when she looked at herself in the mirror, admiring the subtle new detail about her appearance. The deep black really was a sharp contrast to her ashen skin, but so was her dark hair anyway. The new piece of jewelry probably wouldn't be all too noticeable in comparison to that.

"You look absolutely gorgeous, birthday girl…" Cas declared dramatically, still lounging on Robin's bed even while Robin herself had gotten up. "Now we just need to get a little colour onto your face and you're ready to seize this day!"

Robin spun around to face them in an instant, glaring at the two girls in both horror and defense. There was a lot she would let them do to her, but that most definitely did not include turning her into a canary! "Cas no! Absolutely not!"

"Cas yes!"

"Jorien?" Robin pleaded with both her tone and her eyes while moving back over to her bed and to the girls. "I already let you make holes into my ears!"

"Sorry, but it's all part of our present." Jorien shrugged with a sympathetic half smile before she moved off the bed to get ready. "Just let it happen."

"What is your present if it includes piercing my ears and painting my face?!"

"We're making you pretty, dumbass! Like they do in the movies!" Cas groaned loudly and rolled off the bed as well to pad back towards her own. "You're bloody 17 now! And you still don't have any dates! We're trying to get you one."

"Not that again…" Robin sighed in return, hiding her head in her hands for a moment to regain some composure before she started getting dressed for the day of classes. "Don't you guys have anything better to do than meddling in my affairs?"

"No." Both Jorien and Cas replied at the same time, then giggled at their synchrony, and Robin finally had to realize that resistance was futile indeed. Sometimes living with thirteen-year-olds demanded a sacrifice; sometimes Robin just had to make concessions to their youth. And honestly, she couldn't deny them a thing, being as excited as they were about this now.

"Fine…" She sighed at last, mindlessly buttoning up her blouse with long practiced moments, then tugged it into her trousers. "You may paint my face if it means so much to you. But I'll get the bathroom first, now and all to myself. And I forbid you to use anything actually colourful."

"But colour is the best part! It's ALL colour!!!" Cas cried as she struggled into her tights. "Some charcoal would do wonders on your eyes!"

"Black isn't actually a colour but a value." Jorien corrected with a roll of her eyes. "So technically you can use all the black, white and grey you want."

"Precisely! Thank you, Jorien, your thought-out input is always very much appreciated." Robin smiled proudly at the girl, who in return grinned to herself upon the praise. "Now, do we have an agreement? I get the bathroom first and you will use no colours, but you may otherwise do with my hair and face as you please. Deal?"

"Deal!"

… … …

In the end, Robin had to make another compromise: in exchange for not getting any brown paste and powder onto her face, which Cas seemed to be very fond of unfortunately, she had to agree to let them use colours, dark colours, on her eyes. Thus Robin ended up sitting on her bed, sighing repeatedly, while Cas painted her face and Jorien braided her hair. Honestly, she still didn't know how or why exactly she (the older one!) had become their dress up doll, but under the pretext of 'making her look pretty for her birthday', Robin still found herself unable to deny them. Even if, on the inside, she very much felt like running.

When all three of them made their way towards the great hall for breakfast at last, Robin still felt mildly uncomfortable. The braid Jorien had forced her hair into was rather charming actually, and also very much useful to keep the wavy, bushy mess out of her face, but she wasn't so sure about the 'smokey' black, brown and green Cas had layered around her eyes. Robin felt more like a raccoon than herself… but in comparison to what some (few) of her classmates wore on a daily basis, or those women in the magazines Cas read instead of books, it still was subtle enough to tolerate for a day. Makeup may be fun for some other people, which was fine, but it most definitely wasn't for Robin and she had a rather strong interest in not repeating this masquerade. Oh well… she still would be racoon-Robin for a day now. Besides, it would break the girls' hearts if she didn't suffer through it with a smile on her face, so that's what she did as they hurried to breakfast.

"And where would we be coming from?" A taunting voice stopped all three of them just outside the great hall, and Robin had to smile while the other two looked rather panicked upon the unexpected appearance of their potions teacher. "Miss Miller, Miss Blakeley… Punctuality is a virtue, not an option. Breakfast started fifteen minutes ago. You are late."

"So are you, professor..." Robin replied with an innocent smile, which however turned into more of a smirk as soon as her eyes met his. "Isn't that a funny coincidence?"

Snape approached them with long strides and his usual public facade, and the closer he came, the more Cas and Jorien hid behind Robin. She still didn't understand how they could miss the humor in his face that even now was obvious as day! All they saw was the menacing scowl he wanted them to see. That they probably wanted to see as well; expectation and prejudice were the masters of deceit in one's own mind.

"Funny." He said to Robin in a particularly flat tone that made her bite her lip to keep from laughing, then he turned to look at Jorien and Cas instead. "You two would do well to be on time from now on, even if for a mere meal. I tolerate no slacking. Now find your seats before your classmates leave nothing but their empty plates for you." With that, he motioned for them to get going, clasping his hands behind his back with that indifferent look that made Robin smile even more.

"Robin…? Are you coming?" Jorien asked carefully while Cas straight out started walking off already, gaining as much distance to Snape as possible until she disappeared out of sight. Jorien still stood between Robin and the doors, looking at her insecurely.

"You should be fine without your precious Robin for five minutes, or is that too much to ask?" Snape drawled in feigned annoyance, and Robin gave him a look before turning to Jorien.

"I'll be there in five minutes, just save me a seat and some toast, will you?" She smiled at the girl as positively as possible, who only nodded with a weak smile in return before quickly following behind Cas, out of sight.

"Did you have to scold them for something so minor?" Robin finally asked as she turned back to Snape with a small frown. "They were only late because of me, or rather because of what they did for me. Today, at least…" Really, they were usually late for all meals. No matter what day it was, and no matter if they were with Robin or without her.

"Had they been any later, all they would have found left is scrapings. It might have slipped your notice, but their classmates are more animals than civilised beings when it comes to meals." He pointed out calmly, and Robin had to sigh. He was right. "Unless you wish to show them how to use the kitchens or leave them to fend for themselves in the future, I would prefer to teach them punctuality."

"Yeah, alright, I see your point." She said with another sigh. "Nevermind. I usually prefer being early anyway."

"I am aware." He replied with a not-smirk, upon which Robin had to smile again as well. "Is that colour in your face the reason for your mutual lateness?"

"Ah, well, yes." Robin chuckled awkwardly, and before she knew her fingers nervously brushed over the rough spot of skin on her neck again. "It is, uh… it's part of their birthday present to me, I guess. They insisted on it."

For a moment Snape observed her closely, with a curious frown that made Robin feel both nervous and tingly. He leaned a little closer for a second, then back again. "Something else about you is different than it was yesterday evening, but I cannot tell what it is."

"Well, uh, I also let them pierce my ears, because they really wanted to, so it's probably that." Robin shrugged with an almost apologetic frown. Did he observe everyone that closely? Probably.

His eyebrows rose in surprise, torn between incredulity, humor and irritation. "Why would you let them do all that to you? I was under the impression that people did nice things for others on their birthdays…"

"They gave me earrings, so they also had to make sure I could wear them. And as for the colour on my face… you better don't ask what made them do that to me." She shrugged again, deeming the way he said 'nice' highly amusing. "I let them do it because it quite obviously made them happy."

"It is your birthday. People are supposed to ensure you are happy."

"Oh, I'm quite happy as it is." Robin replied with a small smirk, and a soaring heart once more. "I can manage looking like a raccoon for the day. Perhaps it'll scare Morgan off at least."

A quiet snort escaped him before he could make an effort to remain stoic, and even then he seemed to struggle not to smirk. "Raccoon certainly is not what I think of when I look at you, Robin. But you make me curious about their reason to obviously try for exactly that visual."

Now Robin had to snort as well, shaking her head to herself. Damn, she didn't want to tell him… but she also knew that she could deny him even less than the two girls. What was it about the people she cared about?! The only weak spot she knew of, and they all were entirely oblivious to it.

"If you have to know, they wanted to make me look pretty for the day." She sighed, but as soon as he even made an attempt to reply, she added, "Don't. Please. No scorn or mocking on my birthday. I know I look stupid, but I have to make concessions if I want to keep my sanity when living with them, and this was such an instance. I could have looked far worse."

"I was merely going to say that they obviously have a strange concept of beauty if they are blind enough to try to cover it up with paint." He said as if it wasn't enough to make Robin's entire body feel too hot all of a sudden. Actually, he didn't even seem to realize what exactly he had just said in the first place as he went on. "I do very well understand your need to make concessions, and your diplomacy is certainly appropriate. However you don't have to tolerate everything they do to you merely because I told you to watch over them."

"I know. That's not why I do it, not at all." She sighed, regaining control over her heartbeat by simply ignoring what he hadn't even said on purpose. "They care about me, they really do, and they only want the best for me in their own kind of way. A thirteen-year-old way, which unfortunately entails trying to draw more positive attention to me."

He frowned at that, with a lingering hint of amusement. "They paint your eyes black to draw positive attention to you? How… curious."

"I know, right?" She huffed in both humor and dread. "I for my part like black better than anything else they could've put on my fave, but it's probably the wrong colour to make other people think 'pretty' and not 'scary'. I forbid them to use bright colours though, so perhaps it is my fault that I'll scare people off all day, which I do almost every day anyway, so-..."

"Robin." He quirked an eyebrow at her, and Robin took a deep breath to untangle the mess in her head that caused her to ramble.

"Yes. Sorry. Nevermind, just forget about it."

"Give me your hand." He ordered calmly an instant later, holding his own out to her with his palm facing up. Robin's heart skipped a beat, but she did as he said without question, placing her hand in his only to feel the familiar surge of electricity running up her arm and through her body.

To her surprise, he turned her hand around to rest in his with the inside facing up as well. Then, without a word, a small spark of light flickered to life inside her palm. It glowed softly in different colours that came and went so quickly it left the light white, an addition of all colours, and yet black at once in its subtraction. Robin couldn't have described it even if she'd wanted to, for her eyes and mind were too drawn to their hands to even try such a thing. The spark grew, not into a bigger light, but into a shape, a web of atoms that made up matter one by one. It grew, blossomed and rooted until at last it took on the unmistakable shape of a flower. A flower Robin had never seen before, one that was entirely black in its impossible existence, but yet consisted of all the colours in existence indeed. She couldn't take her eyes of it as it rested in her palm, all light gone but the impossible colours remained. His hand was still curled around hers, long fingers brushing against the delicate skin of her wrist beneath the cuff of her blouse… Robin didn't know which of the two fascinated, enchanted her more. Perhaps both did, in a different way.

"Now, would you expect someone to deem this flower scary?" He asked after a few seconds, dropping his hand from hers at last.

"No…" Robin replied quietly, holding the blossom in her palm like the greatest treasure. "It's beautiful, breathtaking even. I've never seen anything like it."

"Because it stems from your mind alone, which makes it entirely unique in its existence."

"But, how… I mean…" She didn't even know what to say, leave alone what to think, neither in a positive nor in a negative way. Why had he shown this beautiful piece of magic to her? Why hadn't she known that he could do something like this in the first place?! The overwhelming urge to be closer to him overcame her when she looked up at him, and it couldn't even be lessened by his perfect neutral facade. Gods, why did he always hide when she wanted to see him the most?! "Why?"

"It is nothing but a reminder that darkness does not scare everyone." He replied neutrally, neither bothering to feign indifference nor to let his honest expression shine through. A few seconds passed in silence, and they merely looked at each other as they did so often.

"Thank you." Robin finally said, giving him the most sincere smile that had graced her lips all day. "It's a lovely gift."

"It isn't a gift." He was quick to respond though, frowning first, then looking almost humored again. "But it might counteract the racoon visual nonetheless."

Robin chuckled, closing her eyes for a second to dwell in the happiness of the moment. The overwhelming bunch of emotions tied to the impossible flower in her hand. "Well, thank you either way. I appreciate your help with my facial issues."

Finally the not-smirk was back on his face, and if Robin wasn't mistaken, so was the humor in his eyes. "What kind of… person would I be if I didn't help you even with the most obscure problems?" Again he raised his eyebrows at her, and she smiled brightly enough to light up the entire hallway, until he spoke on. "That, among other things, is why I want you to be prepared at two o'clock this afternoon."

"Huh?" Robin's brows furrowed into a deep frown in an instant. "Prepared for what?"

"To play along." He smirked for real this time, quite obviously basking in her confusion. "You will see."

Then, without another word, Snape turned on his spot and disappeared down the hallway towards the dungeons before Robin could say another thing. Two seconds later, the doors to the great hall were opened by the first students already leaving breakfast, and they stormed the hallway with enough noise and chattering to break Robin free of her frozen state. Did Snape actually enjoy being that cryptic?! He probably did; insufferable idiot.

Robin sighed to herself, looking at the flower in her hand in careful consideration, then moved to tie it into her hair with a smile. Having this little piece of magic with her, his magic, would certainly make her day a lot better, even if it was prone to cause her constant tingles. Who cares… it was her birthday, she could allow herself to enjoy one single day of dwelling in her feelings. And besides, nobody had to know who had given her such an impossible flower; it wasn't a gift after all, just a point proven.

As Robin made her way into the great hall at last, hoping that at least some kind of food was left for her, she wondered what would be happening at two o'clock. She really couldn't wait to know. Then again, the anticipation and excitement of not knowing was also quite delightful. Two o'clock… that was a third into her defense against the dark arts class. And that meant whatever was going to happen, it could only be an improvement.

______________________________

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carewyncromwell · 4 years ago

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Ficlet: This’ll Be the Day that I Die [Part 3]

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YES! AT LONG LAST WE HAVE PART THREE! *collapses* Geezus, this took forever! Prepare for something long and stuffed to the brim with exposition and world-building...hopefully wrapped up in an entertaining package, but even so. I had a lot of fun trying to explore the characterization of the four Founders of Hogwarts -- although Slytherin is easily the worst of the batch as the resident blood purity nut, it was still fun to try to give him depth the same way I have Rakepick. It was also fun to give some spotlight to Carewyn and Jacob’s magical historian mother, Lane Cromwell! And my precious ghost boy Duncan. ^.^

I apologize in advance for my horrid Old English, Welsh, and Norse: take any translations I’ve done with a grain of salt, I profess no great knowledge of any of them. XD; I did do a good amount of historical research for this, though, so the pieces of that I integrated in should hopefully make the whole thing feel that bit more real, disregarding the magic and dangerous Dark creatures.

Thank you to those of you who reblogged/commented on the last part -- @samshogwarts @dat-silvers-girl @mizutoyama @ruby-and-opal-withers @missnight0wl @that-ravenpuff-witch @weasley-adoptee @cursebreakerelmswood @nightrhea-hphm and @wandsandrings! If you haven’t read the first two parts, I’d highly suggest you do so, as I fear you might be completely and totally lost otherwise. XDD And...yeah, I hope you all enjoy it! Please consider liking/reblogging/commenting if you do, and hopefully part 4 (which will be the last part) will take MUCH less time than this one did to finish!! xoxo

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

While Patricia Rakepick had told her tale to Carewyn, Jacob, and the Circle of Khanna, the battle at the Black Lake had raged, with the Hogwarts professors – led by Heads of House Minerva McGonagall, Severus Snape, Pomona Sprout, and Filius Flitwick – defending both the Lake and the castle from the forces of R. In the midst of the battle, Fawkes the phoenix was sent to the skies to track down his master, Albus Dumbledore, and bring him back to the school at once.

The reason Albus Dumbledore had left Hogwarts none of the teachers had known – for the night hadn't really gone as Dumbledore himself had originally foreseen either.

In the Fenlands of East Anglia, out of open night air, appeared two figures in the high grass surrounding a modest reservoir. One was very tall with a long, white beard, a pointed dark blue velvet hat, and flowing robes the color of a robin's egg and flecked with gold dust. The other was much smaller with shoulder-length blond hair, an off-white sweater with a chunky purple line zigzagged across the chest, and faded jeans tucked into a pair of scuffed-up black boots. This smaller figure released the taller wizard's arm as he glanced around.

“Quite deserted, as to be expected,” said Albus Dumbledore. Once he gave another look around at the stars twinkling over head, he indicated the skyline to his right. “If my navigation is correct, I'd say our destination should be about a hundred paces from here.”

The smaller woman nodded politely, before immediately setting off at a brisk walk. It was impressive that a man so much older than her was able to keep step, given how quickly she moved. As she walked, she kept her wand at her side in her right hand and a very worn scroll close to her chest in the other.

Within a few minutes the pair had reached what appeared to be an old brick warehouse. It was deserted – it was so late that anyone who worked there had no doubt already headed home for the day.

Dumbledore and his traveling companion approached the back of the warehouse, both raising their wands. They silently lit them, looking down at the muddy, wet marshland just underneath the stilts and platform holding the warehouse up and out of the water.

“I daresay Salazar Slytherin would seal any records in such a way that only a fellow Parselmouth could open it,” said Dumbledore airily.

The witch nodded.

“I haven't been able to study Parseltongue very thoroughly,” she spoke in a very soft, almost wispy sort of voice, and yet it was low enough in her throat that she clearly felt no fear or hesitation, “but I know what password Salazar would use – ”

Taking three striding steps forward, the blond-haired witch approached the edge of the marshland, the light from her wand creating dark shadows around her narrowed almond-shaped blue eyes. She opened her mouth and let out a messy cluster of hissing sounds.

At once, there was a rumbling under their feet. One by one, a set of stones burbled out of the murky water, pushing it aside, and formed a long set of cracked gray and black stairs that spiraled down in a wide spiral around and then under the brick warehouse and marshlands.

Dumbledore gave the witch a dewy smile. “Most impressive, Lane, my dear. What phrase was it that Slytherin chose, may I ask?”

“'As pure as the driven snow,'” answered Lane Cromwell, her soft voice sounding rather cool.

“Ah,” said Dumbledore, his own dreamy tone betraying some disgust despite himself, “for that was what Slytherin liked to think he was, in both blood and character. Very good.”

Holding his lit Elder wand aloft, the Hogwarts Headmaster led the way down the wet, cracked stone stairs, down into the depths of the shallow reservoir and then below it, under the ground. The murky water they passed was frozen in place almost as perfectly as the stone and earth under it.

At last they reached the base of the stairs and the small chamber it opened up into. Despite its modest size, it boasted a rather tall ceiling, as well as many completely filled bookcases full of dusty scrolls and books. In the far corner was a very old chair carved out of blackthorn wood, and in the very center of the room was a podium made out of marble, with beautifully intricate carvings of silvery, emerald-eyed serpents slithering up the base.

“Remarkable,” mused Dumbledore. “The library looks to be in very good condition, for its supposed age. This place likely hasn't seen a living soul since Slytherin first abandoned it, oh...nine hundred and fifty years ago, wouldn't you say?”

“Nine hundred and sixty-six,” said Lane gravely. “Since the day it was announced that Godric Gryffindor had passed away. But it's very possible Salazar's descendants may have come down here to check on this place over the years, to maintain it...at least until the last of them left the Fenlands, back in the seventeenth century...”

She tucked the scroll she was carrying in the waist of her jeans as she approached the podium. Bending down, the magical historian trailed a hand along the gleaming serpents carved into the podium.

“...This isn't silver,” she realized. “It's platinum.”

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. “A rather rare stone to find here, in Britain.”

“Yes, but it's been well-documented that Salazar traveled to South and Central America in his young adulthood...the forests there are the only place he could have found the type of snakewood used to make his wand. And platinum would've been much more easily found in South America, during that period – the Spanish conquistadors found quite a bit of it themselves, when they arrived there in the eighteenth century searching for gold. But these stones...they weren't carved naturally. Judging by the angles here – and here, as well...it's clear that this was constructed with magic. There's even magic inlaid in the emeralds, judging by the slight discoloration around the edges – very true to magical artifacts of that time period...”

It was striking how Lane's volume never seemed to rise, even despite the passion in her voice. The magical historian's blue eyes narrowed as she rose to her feet again and frowned at the podium.

“Salazar clearly created this podium with a special purpose in mind,” she said slowly, “more than just decoration...but I'm not sure what that purpose would be.”

“Perhaps I might be able to discern that.”

With a little nod, Dumbledore took a step toward the podium; Lane politely moved aside so that the Headmaster could examine it himself. He trailed a hand over the marble, looking over the carvings himself; he tapped the podium with his wand in several places and cast several silent, experimental spells. At last, he trailed his wand along the snake carved into the right-hand side of the base.

In an instant, the carved snakes began to glow, silvery light rippling out of their platinum grooves. Short, almost pulsing flashes of green flickered out of their eyes, and a voice seemed to echo throughout the room.

“Secgan! Ic dôð rôf Salazar Slytherin, ûphêah orgilde duguð cýf ealdefæder orgilde Hogwarts Stellan râd Foretâc.”

The voice was low, almost like a hiss, but as fierce as a king giving an order. Lane also noted a unique, rather beautiful accent, though it was hard to place exactly what kind.

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow curiously. “'Speak,' you say? Hmm...”

Trailing his wand along the carved serpent again, he spoke very firmly,

“I am Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore – Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”

The serpents' emerald eyes stopped pulsing, their light locked in place. There was an ominous hissing, and then another voice bounded off the walls of the small room – it was Albus Dumbledore's voice, echoing back at them in perfect clarity, speaking words the Headmaster had never said.

“Speak! I am the great Salazar Slytherin, one of the four noble Founders of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”

Lane couldn't hold back a gasp. Dumbledore beamed at Lane.

“It seems we have something of a translating magic here,” he said in an airy kind of amusement. “Upon hearing my response, the podium has repeated the phrase it greeted us with in my voice and language.”

Lane's eyes, identical in color and shape to her children Carewyn and Jacob's, lit up.

“Then this podium...would be able to translate anything written by Salazar Slytherin into Modern English?” she said excitedly, though again, her emotions couldn't manage to make her voice any louder.

“Yes,” said Dumbledore. “It seems that, for all of his faults, Salazar Slytherin was at least shrewd enough to discern that language changes rapidly over time. Any descendants of his might have difficulty understanding his writings, without such a measure.”

Lane immediately descended on the shelves of scrolls and books.

“His family history might also explain that,” she said as she opened several of them and skimmed their contents. “Salazar's family came from what is now modern Spain...evident by the name he was given, which had previously belonged to his maternal great-grandfather, Salazar Ordaño...and he was originally born near the coast of Ireland. People call him 'Slytherin from fen' – but in truth, the Fenlands, where we are now, are merely where Salazar settled in his later years, after he'd married and started a family.”

“Fascinating,” said Dumbledore mildly, as he settled himself down into the blackthorn chair in the corner. “I presume that explains the accent I noted in the first voice we heard – the one that must have been Slytherin's?”

“Yes. By the time Salazar was born, Ireland had transitioned into using early Middle Irish, as opposed to old Gaelic...but people living in England – where Salazar's family moved to, while Ireland faced off against the Norse Vikings – were still using what we today call Old English. That's the language Salazar would've used while speaking to the other three Founders. Early Middle English only started taking hold after Salazar died, after the Norman conquest in 1066 A.D. I daresay what we heard was something of a fusion between an Old Castillian and Middle Irish accent, speaking old English.”

“An interesting mix of cultures, indeed.”

Dumbledore's tone was very pleasant even if it wasn't even half as enthusiastic as Lane's soft-spoken, scholarly voice. He placed his wand back into his robin's-egg-blue robes at last, crossing his arms loosely over his chest and waiting patiently as Lane consulted the documents.

After about thirty minutes, Lane – an excited look in her eyes – brought a rather worn-looking leather portfolio containing a stack of parchment over to Dumbledore for him to look at.

“This looks like it might be a collection of letters...perhaps even a journal that hasn't been properly bound yet,” she said, her hushed voice rather eager. “See the dates there, in the corners?”

Dumbledore peered over his half-moon spectacles at the line of runes and sketched crescent moons in the upper corner of the top page, and then down at the written lines below.

“Yes, that is what this seems to be,” he said, and his light blue eyes twinkled. “Given that I can only read about half of it...I would guess that it contains both Old English and Middle Irish – making it more than probable that this was written in Slytherin's hand, wouldn't you say?”

Lane nodded, looking even more excited. “Yes. Would you say the dates match up too? Judging by the condition of these pages compared to everything else I've seen, I'd guess these would be the newest documents, in this library.”

“I believe you said that Salazar Slytherin left Hogwarts in July 1022, correct? Less than a year before Gryffindor's death? If so...”

Dumbledore turned several pieces of parchment over, consulting each of the dates, before settling on one near the bottom of the stack.

“...Then these moon runes match up perfectly.”

Lane's face was soon consumed by a wide, slightly crooked smile like the one her son Jacob often wore. She moved over to the platform with new confidence, removing the piece of parchment Dumbledore indicated from the stack and placing it down on top of the podium.

The podium gave another low hiss. The piece of parchment fluttered up off the marble as if trapped in a magical gust of wind, rotating in mid-air of its own accord as the podium created by Salazar Slytherin once again spoke in Albus Dumbledore's voice.

“Twentieth day of Harvest Month, 1022.

“Today marks the end of Hogwarts, as we know it.

“Despite all of my objections and disregarding all common sense, Rowena, Helga, and Godric remained obstinate in the decision to allow Mudblooded magical creatures to walk our hallowed halls in the upcoming school year. I urged them to reconsider, to the point that it bordered on pleading, and still, Godric absolutely refused to take heed. To my horror, not even the others would hear reason. I cannot fathom what virtue of theirs could possibly outweigh the safety of our school and our students – whether it is arrogance, ignorance, or just pure delusion – but whatever it was that fueled them to fight against me, it is a demonic magic that I cannot hope to exorcise.

“Although I can't stand by and let Hogwarts fall at the claws of treacherous rats that my friends would deign to call 'students'...I cannot halt my research, when I'm so close to tracking down the answer. Although we were able to petrify the Cetus, and no one should be able to access it without opening all of the Vaults in their proper order, the Beast will claw away at our enchantments the longer it takes for us to find a way to nullify its power. The magic of sacrificial love may indeed be our salvation – and yet a sacrifice made by one who has never feared Death – on the contrary, has frequently been tempted by it, like Odysseus before the Sirens – cannot possibly be powerful enough to destroy it. I only hope that the documents I'll find here in the Fen can help me track down the final answer. It may be the one thing I can still do, to protect my friends and the school we have created, now that they have fallen from grace. In the meantime, the safeguards I put in place should be able to protect the school, even in my absence, now that Garcea, Marvolo, and Amice have started their education – at least until I make my proper return, with the knowledge needed to finally slay the Cetus once and for all.”

The piece of parchment slowly stopped turning, fluttered back down onto the marble, and lay still.

Lane's eyes widened. Dumbledore's lips came together solemnly.

“I would say your hypothesis was correct, Lane,” the Headmaster said softly. “Slytherin was working on a method to destroy the artifact inside the Cursed Vaults.”

Still slightly stunned, Lane reached out to pick up the page of Slytherin's journal, holding it out and gazing down at the lines of Old English and Irish she could barely read herself.

“Even after he left the school,” she whispered, “even after he broke off from the other Founders and ended their friendship over his anti-Muggle-born bigotry...Salazar was still trying to find a way to prevent Godric from sacrificing himself.”

~*~

“Remind me again why it makes sense to unlock the inner door, if we don't want to open the column and set the Cetus free?” said Merula in an incredibly tart voice.

Duncan stuck his head back through the Vault's inner door to look down dully at Merula.

“Hey, you blokes said you wanted to find a way to stop that thing from possessing people and eating their magic, didn't you? Well, inside the inner Vault, there are four painted statues of the Founders. By common sense, those statues were carved and left there, rather than the ones out here, which were all people who got petrified. Plus there's this huge mosaic on the ceiling that sounds like the picture Carewyn saw in Rakepick's head, but there's different writing there than what Rakepick translated.”

“Therefore it's likely the Founders put those things there, as a hint of what to do when someone got inside,” said Bill logically, offering Merula an encouraging look.

“It's something we should investigate, at least,” said Rakepick in a very clipped sort of voice, her arms crossed over her chest, “considering it would take a lot longer for Duncan to jump back and forth through the door telling me each line so I can translate it.”

“You mean so we can translate it,” Jacob snarled.

“Ah yes, pardon me,” Rakepick couldn't help but scoff. “I apologize for not equating myself with a perfect amateur in reading Old English.”

“Don't bother,” Carewyn murmured dully when Jacob looked ready to snap back.

She turned to Rakepick coldly.

“Don't forget our terms, Rakepick – you'll stay under Jacob's and/or my watch at all times...so nothing you do will be just 'you.' It will be 'us.'”

“And for your information, Patty, the words on the mural aren't in Old English,” Duncan added rather coolly. “Otherwise I could've translated it just fine on my own, the Bloody Baron taught me more than enough to get by...”

Everyone turned to blink at Duncan. The ghost looked rather affronted.

“I've been dead for more than seven years, I had to fill that time somehow! Did you really think I just sulked about in the Prefect's Bathroom the whole time?!”

“Maybe not the whole time,” confessed Charlie sheepishly, “but...”

Duncan crossed his arms and gave a loud huff. “I came down to this Vault a lot after I died, I'll have you know. Deluded myself for a year or so that even if I was dead, maybe I could still find a way to break the curse...at least until I finally figured out that no, in fact, it's impossible to break much of anything when you have to give yourself a bloody migraine just to touch something...”

Jacob looked deeply ashamed and upset. The expression clearly bothered Duncan, for he rather gruffly said, “Well, come on, then!” and with a soft pop disappeared fully through the Vault's inner door.

Ben looked at Carewyn, his face betraying some doubt despite himself.

“Carewyn, are you sure we should do this? We're already going to have a hard enough time trying to keep R away from the Cetus as it is without the inner Vault being open.”

His eyes drifted over the rest of the Circle of Khanna, who were spread out over the rest of the glass-domed chamber. Diego, Talbott, Badeea, Jae, Liz, Tulip, and Tonks had started conjuring large Shield Charms around the hall. Meanwhile Beatrice, Penny, Ismelda, Andre, Cedric, and the twins had started levitating the dozens of stone statues off to the sides – as Beatrice had pointed out, it wouldn't be right to let a bunch of innocent people get smashed to pieces in their inevitable fight with R.

Carewyn bowed her head, her eyes resting solemnly on Ben's left shoulder instead of his face.

“I know...but we don't know how many members of R we'll be facing, or how long we'll be able to hold them off. If there's any chance we can destroy the Cetus's power so that no one can use it, R or otherwise – aside from Gryffindor's method, of course – we have to find out for sure.”

“Yeah...and well, just because we unlock the inner Vault now doesn't mean we can't lock it again later, right?” asked Barnaby, trying to be optimistic.

“Presumably yes,” said Rakepick. Her dark blue eyes flickered from the door to over at Carewyn. “Though I'd be hesitant to do it, considering we've come so close to the end...”

Jacob scowled, but he had to agree. He sighed and spared a reluctant nod. “...True. We don't want to take the chance that the Vault's Petrification Curse activates to protect itself, like it did last time. If that happened, we'd have to re-lock and unlock the other four Vaults all over again.”

Tulip, who'd been helping Jae seal any possible openings in the golden dome shield they'd created around the back wall, lowered her wand as she faced the others.

“Even if we don't unlock the door, R could just as easily try blasting it open like you tried to, when they get here,” she pointed out.

“Yeah,” said Jae dryly. “Then the Curse would activate, and we'd have to run for our lives – and anyone who wasn't suddenly a statue would have to go break the Vaults' curses all over again anyway.”

Bill nodded. “It is risky...but it'd be foolish not to try to find out everything we can.”

“Right!” Cedric agreed. He shot Ben a bright smile over his shoulder as he levitated a statue off of one of the stairs leading up to the Vault. “It's like my Dad says – 'nothing ventured, nothing gained.'”

With a sigh, Ben nodded, his eyes narrowing with fresh determination.

“All right, then – let's do this.”

Carewyn nodded too, her eyes just as firm as Ben's. “Merula...will you do the honors?”

Merula also gave a heavy sigh, but nonetheless strode forward, withdrew the coral key from the inside of her robes, and brought it up to the keyhole. Yet again it started to vibrate when it came within inches of the door, and the glowing white writing reappeared.

“Yeah, yeah, we know, 'don't let the Cetus out,'” Merula muttered irritably in the direction of the door.

She forced the key into the rusted keyhole and turned it. With a loud CLICK, the inner doors swung open, just as the outer doors had.

The inner Vault may have been a much smaller room, but that was only because the outer chamber was a hundred feet long with a mile-high green-tinted glass dome for a ceiling. The inner Vault was still almost as large as a standard Hogwarts classroom, though far more ornate and ancient. True to what Duncan had said, four limestone statues – two women and two men, all holding wands – stood in the four corners of the room on black zircon platforms, and on the ceiling was a gigantic, detailed mosaic identical to the picture Carewyn had seen in Rakepick's mind, made up of thousands of tiny colorful tiles. The only light in the room came from the magical blueish-white flames lashing out of the grooves cut into all four sides of the black zircon platforms, which left surreal, blue-tinted shadows on the statues' limestone faces. Even the air itself suddenly felt heavier, making them feel like a large weight had been lowered onto their shoulders, making the group all subconsciously shrink in the face of such a grand, imposing sanctuary. Strikingly, though, the gold-trimmed glass column housing the Cetus was nowhere to be seen – the statues surrounded nothing but an empty white-and-gold-tiled floor, marred by a large inky black stain that branched out like vines toward the walls and double doors.

When Carewyn moved toward the center of the room so as to try to get a better look at the mosaic, she was stopped abruptly by a terrible, booming voice.

“Gan ne latost!”

She whirled around.

The voice had come from the statue she'd just walked past – a large, broad-chested man of about 30 with a short red-painted beard and sparkling eyes made of blue-green agate. The left hand not holding his wand rested on a silver-painted sword hilt at his side.

Bill hurried over to Carewyn's side, crossing in front of the statue next to the first, only to halt in front of Carewyn and whirl around at the sound of a female voice, booming just as gravely down at him.

“FÆr sy hêore.”

The statue Bill had passed was that of a tall, willowy woman about the same age as the man with ebony-painted plaited hair so long it almost reached her feet. There was an odd-looking, silver-painted tiara resting low on her forehead and her eyes were made of smoky quartz.

Rakepick strode forward, not flinching at the sound of the woman's voice again booming“FÆr sy hêore” down at her, as she came up to stand beside Carewyn and Bill, her dark blue eyes narrowing upon the statues.

“Godric Gryffindor and Rowena Ravenclaw,” Rakepick murmured.

“I know,” said Carewyn. She glanced at Rakepick out the side of her eye. Despite knowing she was their ally now, it was hard not to still look at her with suspicion. “...What are they saying?”

“'Go no further,'” said Rakepick. “'There is danger here.'”

She also seemed to have trouble looking Carewyn in the face. Carewyn couldn't sense Rakepick's thoughts anymore, since the older woman was using her Occlumency again, but Carewyn could still surmise that Rakepick also had not expected to be working side by side with her again and was a bit uncomfortable about it.

'She should be uncomfortable,' Carewyn couldn't help but think resentfully. 'No matter what her motives were, I can't forgive her for what she did to Rowan.'

Jacob, Merula, Charlie, Barnaby, and Ben all slowly made their way into the inner Vault. All of them flinched as they walked past the two large statues of Godric Gryffindor and Rowena Ravenclaw, which once again boomed their warnings down at them.

Jacob, the one who was the least warded off by the voices, strode across the tile floor, stopping in front of the statue on the corner across from Gryffindor's – a weedy-looking gentleman of about 35 with a black-painted goatee, his left hand not holding his wand resting on a gold-painted locket resting around the high-collared neck of his robes, and striking eyes made out of grayish Blue John fluorite.

“Nanu, nanu, Slytherin, you old feck,” Jacob said coolly.

He waved an arm broadly in front of Salazar Slytherin's statue and – predictably – another booming, cold voice emanated from it.

“Linnan nû.”

“That'd be something like...'surrender now,'” Jacob translated slowly. Rakepick nodded.

With a determined look on her face, Merula approached the last statue – a round, beautiful woman a few years younger than the first two statues with long pink-painted ribbons braided into her mane of chocolate-painted curls and a pair of boulder opals for eyes, presenting a chalice in the right hand not holding her wand as if she planned to propose a toast. The so-called “Most Powerful Witch at Hogwarts” flinched when the Helga Hufflepuff statue spoke in an older, clearer voice than the rest, but she recovered very quickly.

“Beorgan!”

“'Beware,'” said Duncan idly.

He floated down from the ceiling, hovering next to Jacob's left shoulder.

“They've said those same things every other time I came in here,” he explained. “I figure there's some sort of Sensory Enchantment on them – though I gotta admit, I wouldn't have thought a spell like that could be so sensitive it could even sense a ghost's presence. But yeah...”

He floated up to the ceiling, pointing up at the mosaic.

“That's not Old English. Any guesses, Jacob?”

Jacob squinted up at the line of text. He mouthed something silently to himself, as if he were trying to imagine how the words might sound. Then his eyes lit up.

“Welsh!” he said eagerly. “Old Welsh! Helga Hufflepuff grew up in Wales – this inscription must have been written by her! And that there...”

He dashed right past Bill, Rakepick, and Carewyn to the other side of the room and pointed at another cluster of text near the bottom left corner of the mosaic.

“...That looks like some kind of early Germanic language – like Old Norse! Rowena Ravenclaw grew up in Scotland – I think the country was still only about half-formed by that point, so there would've been all sorts of languages floating around back then...”

“...One of which would've been Old Norse,” Carewyn surmised.

“Right!”

Jacob smiled almost wistfully up at the mosaic. “Aw, Mum would love this...”

Carewyn's eyes softened fondly at the thought of how thrilled magical historian Lane would be, seeing a written record by two of the Founders of Hogwarts.

“Can you read what Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw wrote, Jacob?” asked Bill.

Jacob frowned irritably. “Mm, perhaps...I haven't studied either language very thoroughly. But Old Norse, being a Germanic language, is distantly related to modern German and therefore to modern English, so it might be easy enough for me to suss out. And Welsh as a language fortunately hasn't drifted as far as English has, over the centuries – so even if Hufflepuff's is harder to read, I can always compare it to what I know of modern Welsh...”

His gaze settled on Ravenclaw's Old Norse text first.

“'Með imprisonmentrinn ór kreature'...'after the imprisonment of the creature' – no doubt the Cetus – 'we the Founders...created...a series of...false chambers.' The other Vaults, she means. 'Now that you...have opened these chambers...you can now meet it. Take heed – '”

He glanced at Carewyn, who'd come over to stand beside him and look up at the words too.

“' – Cetus...is a living thing. It eats magic to live. It will eat and eat...forever. Only the strongest...weapon – a spell...cast by selfless love...might be enough to...purify it.'”

“Then it's just like Rakepick said, after all,” muttered Charlie, sharing a glance with Carewyn out the side of his eye. “Sacrificial love is the only thing that can stop it...”

“It also means we learned absolutely nothing new, from reading that,” said Merula impatiently.

“That's not true,” said Barnaby softly. He glanced up at the picture of Ceto Annis on the mural. “It said...that the Cetus is alive. I mean, yeah, Rakepick said it's a parasite, but...from the way Ravenclaw was talking about it...it kind of sounds like a magical creature. Like a Puffskein!”

“I reckon it's a bit more like a Dementor, mate,” said Charlie darkly.

Jacob squinted up at one section of the Old Norse lines critically, frowning deeply in thought. He crossed his arms over his chest, his dark eyebrows knitting together tightly as his hollowed-out blue eyes bore into the ceiling.

“Jacob?” asked Carewyn.

Jacob shook his head. “There's something...weird, in the word choice. Ravenclaw uses the word 'ástir' in the final phrase, when discussing the magic of sacrificial love. The ending 'ir' makes it plural. A single act of love would probably use the form 'ásta' instead.”

“So does more than one person have to die, in order to kill that thing?” said Ben, his eyes narrowing.

“Let's not jump to that conclusion,” said Bill very firmly.

Carewyn nodded. “Maybe Hufflepuff wrote something that can help...”

Jacob strode back to where he started, raising his gaze to the two lines of Welsh in the upper right corner of the mosaic.

“Looks like Hufflepuff was a lot more succinct,” he said dryly.

He squinted a bit as he read the couplet several times.

“...'I gael mynediad i'r golofn'...'golofn' means column! It's talking about how to find the column! 'Mae'n rhaid...' Hmm...'you must...walk!' 'Walk'...either 'into' or 'through'...'the past?'”

“'Walk through the past?'” repeated Merula incredulously. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“Maybe we need to use a Time Turner!” suggested Barnaby.

“Doubtful,” scoffed Rakepick. “Anyone who uses a Time Turner ages the amount of years they've gone back on return trip – we'd all be dust, by the time we got back.”

Jacob rested a hand on his chin thoughtfully as he read and reread the second line several times.

“'Datgloi'r basn gyda phedwar ffrind fel allweddi,'” he murmured. His blue eyes drifted up and away, as it often did when he was thinking hard. “...'Unlock the' something...'basn,' 'basn'...”

He straightened up sharply, his whole face lighting up as if a Lumos charm had been cast behind it.

“Basin! 'Basn' means 'basin!' In order to walk through the past, we have to use what wizards in the Dark Ages used to call an 'ingemyndláu' – a 'memory dish' – ”

“A Pensieve,” realized Rakepick, her eyes growing very wide.

Duncan grinned down at Jacob. “That's it! Rather than waste space on the wall trying to write down everything she knew...Hufflepuff must've decided to leave her memories behind instead!”

“Including the memories of when she and the other Founders fought the Cetus in the past!” said Bill, his freckled face nearly as bright as Jacob's. “Brilliant!”

Carewyn looked at her brother with a new determined spark in her eyes. “How do we reach the Pensieve? What's the rest of the line, Jacob?”

“Let's see,” said Jacob, and it was clear he was getting excited too. “'Gyda phedwar'...we need four of something...four friends! 'Ffrind' is 'friends!' We need 'four friends as keys!'”

“Well, there's more than four of us in here,” said Charlie, gesturing widely around at himself and the others. “What are we supposed to do?”

Ben glanced up at the mural of the four Founders and Ceto Annis and then around at the four statues.

“Maybe we need only four people in here,” he said slowly.

He started to walk back toward the door frame. On his way, however, he passed in front of the Gryffindor statue – as soon as Ben's shadow passed over it, the Gryffindor statue's agate eyes flashed as it once again proclaimed, “Gan ne latost!”

“Ben!” said Carewyn.

Ben had noticed the flash too. He backtracked, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. Then, slowly and deliberately, he stepped back in front of Gryffindor's statue. At once, two beams of dazzling blue-green light flared out of the statue's bejeweled eyes as it said again,“Gan ne latost!”

Duncan suddenly looked more excited than anyone had ever seen him – his shoulders were hunched up and both of his translucent fists were clenched over his chest. He whirled on Jacob standing to his right, his ghostly robes flaring as he spun around.

“Jacob! Take a step back so you're in front of Hufflepuff!”

Jacob did so. The Hufflepuff statue once again warned, “Beorgan!” – but her opal eyes didn't glow like Gryffindor's had.

Jacob stepped away from the Hufflepuff statue, shooting it something of a halfhearted glare. Rakepick considered the statue carefully, her white-gloved hand coming to rest over her lower lip in thought.

“It seems that Duncan is on the right track,” she muttered, “but Jacob's placement is wrong, somehow. I've seen rooms like this before, where you need several people to stand in certain places in order to unlock whatever treasure it's hiding. There's generally some sort of correlation between the person in question and where they're standing – such as eye color compared to the color of a platform, or height compared to certain notches on the wall. I would guess any such correlation here would be related to the statues themselves.”

The once-Head Cursebreaker's dark blue eyes narrowed to slits upon Ben and the Godric Gryffindor statue as she considered this.

“...Perhaps gender is the issue.”

Rakepick strode up to stand in front of Hufflepuff's statue herself. Once again, Hufflepuff's warning echoed throughout the room, but still the opal eyes did not light up.

“Apparently not,” said Carewyn.

“Well, duh,” scoffed Duncan. “Slytherin's statue didn't respond to Jacob when he was waving his arm in front of it earlier, did it? I thought it might be an issue of order, like you have to start with Gryffindor and end with Slytherin, but...”

He trailed off, his light-less eyes flickering between Rakepick stepping away from Hufflepuff's statue and Ben standing in front of Gryffindor's statue. Then he seemed to get an idea – with his mouth spread into such a wide grin, he almost resembled his friend, Peeves the poltergeist.

“Wait just a tick – ”

In a flash, the ghost flung himself right through both Ben and the Godric Gryffindor statue (making Ben shudder from the cold) and phased right through the wall back into the outer Vault. A moment later, Duncan had reentered the Vault, soaring back over toward the Hufflepuff statue. Running through the open double doors after him were Cedric and Tulip.

“You! Puffball!” Duncan shot at Cedric. “Stand right here!”

Looking thoroughly confused, Cedric nonetheless walked into the center of the room. He and Tulip both gave a start at the sound of Ravenclaw and Gryffindor's voices bellowing down at them.

“It's okay,” Carewyn reassured them, “it's just a Sensory Enchantment – ”

“Move it!” said Duncan, sweeping around Cedric impatiently and back around to point down at the black and gold tile floor in front of Hufflepuff's statue. “We don't have all day!”

Despite the hesitant look on his face, Cedric obeyed. His eyes still very wide as he looked around, drinking in the rest of the room, he strode over to stand on the spot Duncan indicated.

Once again, the Helga Hufflepuff statue said, “Beorgan!”, but this time the blue-streaked brown gemstones lit up, just as the Gryffindor statue's eyes had.

“Yes!” hissed Duncan.

He whirled on Tulip. “You! Red! In front of Ravenclaw's statue, over there!”

With a braver and much more determined face than Cedric's, Tulip very quickly turned on her heel and darted over to stand in front of the Rowena Ravenclaw statue. Its dark brown gemstone eyes began to glow too as Ravenclaw's “FÆr sy hêore” bounded off the walls.

Jacob's eyes widened, becoming almost over-bright.

“It's house placement!” he cried in delight. “Ashe, you're a genius!”

Duncan smirked. “'Bout time you finally acknowledged it!”

Merula's pink eyes were suddenly alight with a kind of exhilaration better suited to a child before a Little League game.

“Stand back, Cromwell,” she said with a broad, smug grin at Carewyn, “I've got this!”

She darted over to the final corner to stand in front of Salazar Slytherin's statue. Its fluorite eyes blazed grayish-white as it rumbled, “Linnan nû” once more.

All of a sudden, the floor began to quake. Carewyn threw up her arms protectively in front of the others, silently urging them back, as the black and gold tiles rippled apart like water after a stone was skipped across it. Then out of the rippling floor emerged a large, shallow silver dish that looked like it was carved out of pure moonlight. Runes were carved along the edge, and it was full of a strange, half-liquid and half-gas-like substance, almost like dry ice, except fuller-bodied and ethereally sparkling.

Carewyn took a step forward and approached the Pensieve. Bending down beside it, she brought up a hand to trail along the edge, her blue eyes running over the runes carved into the shimmering metal.

“It's beautiful,” she whispered.

Rakepick couldn't stop herself from bending down beside Carewyn, looking just as awed as she was. She brought her own gloved hand onto the other side of the dish, examining the runes.

“This Pensieve is different from any I've seen before,” Rakepick said slowly. “It's too shallow to place one's head in. Judging by the runes...” she rotated the dish a corner turn to the right, “...one would have to step into it, in order to access the memories contained.”

“I did some reading about this,” said Jacob casually, and he not-so-subtly bent down too so that he created a physical barrier between Rakepick and his sister. “Pensieves have actually gone through a lot of changes, over the centuries. The model we use today is considered safer, since it's easier to remove someone from inside the memories – just grab the person by the scruff of the neck and yank their head out of it, you know? The older models, like the kind from the medieval period, ran the risk of the person becoming trapped in someone else's memories.”

“Trapped?” said Cedric anxiously.

Carewyn's eyes narrowed upon the Pensieve. Then she took a deep breath.

“...It's a risk we'll have to take. I'll go.”

“No,” Ben said very harshly.

“No way, Carey!” snarled Charlie, his voice hard with anxiety. “If you get trapped – ”

“Then I'll need to come up with a way out, somehow,” said Carewyn, as she offered her fellow Fireball a small, reassuring smile. “Just like we always have.”

She glanced at Bill. Her best friend had gone very white and his eyes were even more stricken and full of anxiety than Charlie's, but he tried to put on a brave face all the same.

“Carey's right,” Bill said softly. “We have to find a way to stop the Cetus from hurting anyone. ...This might be our only chance.”

Ben and Charlie looked very upset, but they seemed to know in their hearts that Bill was right. Charlie bowed his head and looked away; Ben strode over to Carewyn, bent down, and grabbed her shoulder.

“I'm coming with you.”

“No, Ben – I need you here,” said Carewyn. Ben tried to argue, but she cut him off as kindly as she could, “If I'm going, then you, Merula, Charlie, and Bill will need to lead. There won't be any enemies to fight in the Pensieve, but there will be plenty of them here, if R arrives before I come out. You're better at Charms than anyone else I know, and one of the best duelists too. You need to be here.”

Ben's hand holding her shoulder had started to tremble. Carewyn's eyes softened as she brought up a hand to take his holding her shoulder and give it a light, supportive squeeze. Ben's eyes narrowed in frustration – then, exhaling through his nose, he moved forward to rest his forehead on the top of Carewyn's head in something of a quasi-hug.

“Promise that you'll come back alive,” he said very lowly.

Carewyn knew Ben was thinking of that terrible night in the Forest – the night he'd refused to let Carewyn go in there alone and tried to protect her and Merula, only for Rowan to jump in front of him and take the Killing Curse meant for him. Carewyn was forced to close her eyes to obscure the pain and raw emotion that had taken them over at the memory.

“I promise,” she whispered.

With a squeeze to Carewyn's hand, Ben lifted his head and pulled away, his dark eyes harder and more determined than ever as he slowly rose to his feet.

“What I will need with me, though,” said Carewyn more solemnly, “is someone who can translate. I don't think anyone in Hufflepuff's memories will be speaking modern English...”

She looked over Jacob's shoulder at Rakepick. Rakepick held Carewyn's gaze and nodded.

“I'll go with you, Miss Cromwell,” she said lowly.

Jacob whirled on Carewyn, his blue eyes flashing.

“There's no way in Hell I'm going to let you go somewhere alone with Rakepick, Pip,” he said fiercely. “Either we go together, or you don't go at all.”

Carewyn exhaled through her nose and nodded. “Fair enough.”

“I'm coming too,” said Duncan.

Carewyn blinked at him in surprise. The ghost crossed his translucent arms irritably.

“It's not like I have anything left to lose,” he said gruffly. “And I reckon I can speak Old English just as well as old Patty here can read it – probably better.”

His light-less eyes flickered beadily in Rakepick's direction. Despite his excuses, Carewyn thought she could sense some genuine suspicion from Duncan toward the ex-professor: he was likely feeling the same kind of protectiveness that Jacob was.

Carewyn gave her brother's best friend a small, soft smile. “Thank you.”

'I guess since Duncan can phase through anything, he'd be able to get out of the Pensieve more easily, if something goes wrong,' she thought to herself.

Duncan averted his eyes uncomfortably, a stubborn grayish flush clinging to his cheeks, as Carewyn turned to Bill.

“Take care of things here – we'll be back soon.”

Bill swallowed and nodded, his shoulders straight and strong even though his freckled face was so pale.

“Please be careful, Carewyn,” said Barnaby very quietly.

Carewyn faced the silver Pensieve on the floor. Her jaw set and her left fist clenched around her wand at her side, she inhaled slowly through her nose...and stepped into the basin.

Rather than touch the bottom, her foot fell right through it as if she'd tried and failed to walk on water. In an instant, Carewyn felt herself somersaulting in mid-air. Her feet were thrown up over her head as she was yanked down into the basin's swirling, misty contents.

~*~

“Something still troubles me, however,” said Dumbledore solemnly. “If Slytherin did, in fact, discover a way to destroy the Cetus artifact...then why is it that it still exists? If he had truly found the answer, would he not have returned to Hogwarts, to cast the proper counter-curses?”

Lane strode back across the small library over to the enchanted podium, ruffling through the loose pages of Slytherin's journal as she went.

“It's a troubling question...but it doesn't prove Salazar's research didn't come to anything,” she murmured, and her soft voice was hard with determination. “Salazar died only two months after Godric did. Plenty of historians theorize that Salazar had been struggling with an illness even while he was still at Hogwarts, given that his appearance aged so dramatically in the last ten years of his life...but whether he was or wasn't, I don't think it's far-fetched to think that there was a connection. Salazar and Godric knew each other the longest out of any of the Founders – it's well-documented by Salazar's descendants that the Slytherin family settled in the area of what would become Godric's Hollow, after they first left Ireland, and that Salazar tutored Godric in magic before they worked together as equals. I remember the Sorting Hat even loved to sing about what good friends Salazar and Godric were, no matter how different they were as people.”

“Indeed, the Hat does reference that rather frequently,” granted Dumbledore. “It is interesting how much good and evil can have in common, at first glance.”

“Yes, but I'm afraid none of the Founders can be boiled down to such shallow words as 'good' and 'evil,' Professor,” said Lane, and her voice actually sounded a bit cool. “Don't forget that it was Godric who stole a sword from a goblin craftsman and then slapped his name on it to claim it as his own.”

Returning the piece of parchment she'd put on the podium back to the stack in her hands, Lane then withdrew the next page and placed it down on the marble. The podium gave another low hiss, and the piece of parchment rotated in mid-air as Dumbledore's disembodied voice again filled the room.

“Autumnal Equinox, 1022.

“Thus far, my search near home has run dry. It's remarkable how a place like the Fen, which has always been so attuned to magic, can be so utterly devoid of the very magical knowledge I need!

“Fortunately, for all of my bitterness toward my sweet Fen, there are witches and wizards here with contacts elsewhere that appear promising. I shall set off for London tomorrow, in the hopes of meeting with Eadric Bald, a wizard who specializes in the study of rare and exotic magics.

“First day of Holy Month, 1022.

“The school year has started. It pains me beyond words that I shall not be present, to welcome the newest members of my house to our school. I thought of sending an owl to Helga, passing along my best wishes for our newest class to her and the others, but in order to do that, I would have to extend those well wishes to the rats that they've seen fit to dress in student robes. And I see no reason to poke the dragon of their ire by purposefully excluding those Mudblooded magic users.

“To my frustration, I am leaving London with no more knowledge than I started with. Bald is a talented wizard, it's true, but his mind is too focused on concrete magics that one can hold in one's hand and bend to their will. Considering love is perhaps one of the least tangible magics one could hope to find, I believe him to be thoroughly unhelpful, in such a situation. Fortunately he was able to provide a Wiggenweld Tonic for my return trip home to Fen.

“Full Moon, Holy Month, 1022. Helga's birthday.

“Followed up with my neighbor Kendrick Creed about a contact of his in Yorkshire who has recently boasted about his invincibility due to a spell of sacrificial love. Although Kendrick himself doubts that the wizard is as protected as he claims, I plan to pay him a visit to make absolutely sure.

“Feast of St. Matthew, 1022.

“Kendrick's contact apparently was rescued by his lover, who threw herself in front of him in order to protect him from another wizard's Killing Curse. The wizard in question was then able to ward off his assassin with the declaration that because the witch sacrificed her life for him, he was protected by her love, and that anyone who tried to hurt him would only be hurt themselves. This worked for about one month until yet another person who this wizard had wronged caught up with him and hurled a javelin through his chest. I might have found some dark humor in the situation were I not so utterly frustrated.

“Will spend the night here in York before returning home in the morning.”

~*~

Carewyn felt as if she was floating down to the bottom of a sparkling, silvery swimming pool, and yet, her loose red hair and her brown and red “Fakepick” robes weren't weighed down with water. Instead they floated upward as if they had no gravity at all, even though Carewyn herself was slowly falling.

'Is this what Alice felt like, when she fell down the rabbit hole?' she couldn't help but wonder, thinking back on one of the Muggle fiction books she'd liked reading as a little kid.

As she fell, murmured voices and broken words she didn't understand swept past her ears. The swirling mist around her took on colors that brightened and then grew, abruptly blooming into deeper, more radiant shades with shadows and highlights and depth and warmth –

Carewyn maneuvered her legs so that when she reached the newly created gray stone floor below, she could land on her feet. She looked around, and she couldn't stop herself from letting out a soft gasp.

'It's Hogwarts...'

It was remarkable how similar her surroundings looked to the castle she'd left earlier that evening. Perhaps some of the portraits were different and everything did look considerably newer, but the gray stone walls, lit torches, and high ceilings were nearly just the same. Even the sunlight pooled through the stained glass window panes and bounded tinted light across the marble floor in just the same way.

Rakepick landed on her feet to Carewyn's right. She brushed her strawberry-blond hair out of her face as her eyes glided around, taking in their new surroundings.

“This would be the fifth floor corridor,” she murmured, “the one that leads to Gryffindor Tower...”

“And Ravenclaw Tower.”

Jacob's feet had barely touched the ground before he'd barreled over to stand between Rakepick and Carewyn again, shooting Rakepick a dirty look. Rakepick's eyes narrowed on Jacob's face in return, but she didn't reply.

Duncan swirled down in leisurely spirals to join them, coming to a halt over Carewyn. He smirked around at the hallway around them – his crossed translucent arms rested on the top of Carewyn's head just enough that it felt like she was standing under a particularly cold air vent.

“Would you look at that, it's my corridor,” said the ghost, his face consumed by a huge, cheeky, over-bright smirk. He nodded to the door just past a portrait of oranges that led to the Prefect's Bathroom. “See, there's my digs – and just past it, the eagle door knocker that guards Ravenclaw Tower. Never did understand why Ravenclaw thought riddles were a better safety measure than passwords...”

“Anyone can regurgitate a password,” said Jacob coolly. “Only clever wizards can use their brains.”

“And get a bunch of clever wizards from other houses sneaking into your dormitory,” Duncan shot back just as coolly.

“We Eagles don't mind company – as long as it's intelligent company.”

“For goodness' sake, will you two focus?” Rakepick said with a roll of her eyes. “We're on a mission.”

Carewyn pointed up the hall. “Look over there.”

Coming up the hall were two figures – a beautiful dark-skinned woman even smaller than Carewyn with a round frame and dark brown curls held out of her face by sunny yellow ribbons, talking to a slightly older, weedy-looking gentleman with thin black hair, striking gray eyes, and a black goatee. They both were around Rakepick's age and wore dress robes, the woman in modest light blue, the man in more elegant black trimmed with white ermine fur.

“Helga Hufflepuff and Salazar Slytherin, in the flesh,” breathed Jacob. “Well – not really, but...”

Hufflepuff was holding Slytherin's arm and talking very animatedly to him as they walked. Although the older man didn't look nearly as excited, his lips were still upturned slightly and his gray eyes were rather soft. Carewyn found it kind of weird to see her house founder – who she'd only ever seen as a haughty old man in his portraits and statues – with such a gentle, almost fond expression on his face.

Whatever they'd been talking about was cut abruptly short, however, by the sound of a loud CRASH outside. Both Founders stiffened, dashing over to the closest window to look out: Carewyn ran after them so she could look out too.

The Training Grounds below had been full of students dressed in black linen robes, but those students were suddenly screaming and running for cover as a horrible, inky darkness descended upon the Hogwarts grounds. It was massive – about the size of a whale – and although its consistency resembled an oddly full-bodied mist, long webbed claws, a long eel-like tail, and gnashing teeth lashed out of its smoky depths, tearing away at the school as it pursued the terrified students.

In alarm, Hufflepuff made as if to run down the hall, but Slytherin grabbed her by the arm. Looking almost more scared himself, but clenching his jaw in determination, he shoved open the window with his wand arm, climbed up onto the ledge, and then reached out a hand to Hufflepuff. She hesitated only for a second, before grabbing her comrade's hand. In an instant, Slytherin had transfigured himself and Hufflepuff into a strange kind of black and white fabric-like shape, which flapped through the air of its own accord down toward the ground.

Carewyn felt a bizarre yank in the area of her pelvis, and all at once, their surroundings had changed, becoming the grounds below. Hufflepuff and Slytherin had reached the ground and turned to face the blackness that awaited them. Hufflepuff looked very scared as she yelled something at Slytherin.

“She's asking what it is,” said Rakepick. She, Jacob, and Duncan had ended up right behind Carewyn, in the same positions they'd been in when they'd still been indoors.

Slytherin shouted something back, his gray eyes narrowing. The inky blackness turned on the two, and with the speed of a cobra, lashed out – Hufflepuff and Slytherin had to hurtle themselves out of the way before its large, fanged jaws clamped around the space they'd just been standing on.

“He called it an abomination,” Duncan said lightly. “Guess the Cetus didn't take kindly to that.”

Hufflepuff and Slytherin cast different spells in an attempt to force the creature back. Unfortunately thanks to its body's smoky consistency, the Cetus was able to twist and contort around their blasts. It once again lashed out, snapping jaws that seemed unnaturally large and grotesque even for how massive it already was. Before long, the Cetus had cornered the two, backing Hufflepuff and Slytherin into a corner. Slytherin conjured up a large gold-domed Shield Charm around himself and Hufflepuff, trying to use the barrier to shove the creature back away from them. But instead of keeping the Cetus back, the creature instead gnashed its teeth at the Shield, biting off chunks of golden light.

“It's eating Slytherin's Shield Charm!” said Carewyn, her eyes widening.

“It possesses witches and wizards in order to feed off of their magic and life force,” said Rakepick. “This must be why the Cetus is so difficult to destroy. It drains the life out of anything in its path, yet every spell you cast to try to defend yourself only strengthens it and makes it pursue you even more.”

“Magister Slytherin!”

A young witch, likely the same age as Beatrice, dashed out onto the grounds. Her curly blond hair had come loose of the hood she was wearing – Carewyn guessed the hood was the school's original variation on house ties, given that it was a bright Slytherin green with silver trim.

The Slytherin student began blasting Incendio charms at the Cetus's back. The smoky mass gave a startled, shrieking sound, but it didn't sound like it was hurt: if anything, it kind of reminded Carewyn of a dolphin...if the dolphin had somehow been turned into a vampire.

'She's trying to distract the Cetus,' Carewyn surmised. 'Make it chase after her, so that it'll back off of Slytherin and Hufflepuff...'

Slytherin shouted something at his student, but it was too late. In an instant, the Cetus had whirled around, violently slapping the air like a whip. The young witch was snatched up by the Cetus's flippered, eel-like tail and then, just as quickly, disappeared into its inky depths all together.

Hufflepuff screamed. Slytherin, his gray eyes wide with panic, ran forward, lashing out at the creature with fierce violet and black spells from his wand –

Suddenly, from out of the creature grew a large, golden dome, just like the Shield Charm Slytherin had cast mere moments ago. Slytherin's spells bounded off, right back at their owner, who had to leap out of the way once again to avoid them.

The black mist had largely dissipated to reveal the young Slytherin witch floating overhead. Her hair whipped at the air in much the same way as the Cetus's mist had and black mist trickled out of her mouth and nose and out of the corners of her pitch-black, pupil-less eyes. Her wand had fallen to the ground, discarded – the Shield Charm itself seemed to have come solely from her hands, which had grown a terrible set of black, claw-like nails.

“So that's what it looks like, when the Cetus possesses someone,” murmured Jacob.

Hufflepuff stared up at the young witch bleeding black smoke from her eyes, mouth, and nose, her hazel-brown eyes widening in horrified realization.

“Ceto?” she whispered.

Slytherin turned to look at Hufflepuff in confusion, but before he could say anything, the young witch raised a clawed hand and pointed at Slytherin. A flare of yellow burst from her finger like a blowtorch, and Hufflepuff was forced to hurl herself in front of Slytherin and conjure another Shield Charm to protect them from the blast.

“SALAZAR! HELGA!”

Gryffindor had arrived, his brown-fur-trimmed gold robes billowing behind him. His russet-colored beard was a little longer than the modest one worn by his statue back in the Vault, but his wide blue-green eyes were the exact same color as the agate gemstones inlaid into the limestone statue's eyes.

He unsheathed the silver sword at his side and charged at the person attacking his comrades. Carewyn couldn't stop herself from subconsciously lurching forward and raising her wand.

'Stop! You can't – !'

“Godric, BID!” screamed Hufflepuff.

The young witch turned around, and Gryffindor instantly froze up, his sword halting over his head – he must not have realized that it was one of their students, or that she was possessed. The Cetus, however, showed none of the hesitation Gryffindor had. As soon as he'd halted, the young witch brought up a hand to the older man's chest –

BANG.

In a large blast of white light, Gryffindor was blasted clean off his feet. He was thrown full-force into the closest wall back first, before he collapsed in a shuddering heap, the chest of his gold robes stained with scarlet.

His face blanching with terror and rage, Slytherin barreled forward. He conjured up thick black manacles that flung themselves at the young witch and lashed her to the ground. The witch threw back her head, shrieking in frustration as more black smoke leaked out of her mouth and eyes.

Slytherin and Hufflepuff both ran to Gryffindor's side. Hufflepuff immediately raised her wand and got to work trying to heal the damage to Gryffindor's chest. Slytherin appeared too scared to help; instead he was muttering something very quickly under his breath at Gryffindor.

“He's scolding Gryffindor for being so stupid,” said Duncan.

'Scolding – no,' thought Carewyn. 'That's only what it sounds like.'

Slytherin's expression was too upset and tense to truly be angry. It reminded Carewyn of when she'd disappeared for a whole 24 hours after Rowan's death and Duncan, after finding her curled up in a closet in the Astronomy Tower, yelled at her to the point of tears.

Within moments, however, the black mist trailing out of the young witch's eyes had effectively nibbled away at the chains binding her. With a loud SNAP, she broke the chains, turning on the three Founders once again. The young witch raised her hand and it lit up with violent light blue lightning –

WHAM. CRASH.

The Cetus's attack was blocked by a massive crystal ball that had abruptly materialized around Hufflepuff, Slytherin, and Gryffindor. The spell was strong enough to shatter the crystal and sent it flying, making Hufflepuff and Slytherin huddle over Gryffindor protectively to shield him from the falling shards.

Standing in front of the school with her bronze-painted wand pointed at the young witch was Rowena Ravenclaw. There were some age lines and shadows on her face that her statue didn't have, but otherwise she looked very much the same, from her floor-length black plait to her sparkling dark eyes. She was dressed in violet silk trimmed with sparkling silver embroidery the same color as the tiara resting over her brow.

As Ravenclaw rushed to confront the Cetus, Hufflepuff yelled over to her, her face very worried.

“'Rowena, look at her eyes!'” translated Duncan. “'Didn't Ceto's magic used to black out her eyes the same way, when she didn't have a wand?'”

Ravenclaw's eyes flickered with a strange, horrified light. As the young witch blasted another spell and Ravenclaw blocked it, the dark-haired Founder shouted up at her.

Rakepick and Duncan both looked oddly stricken.

“She's...appealing to it,” said Duncan.

“To her,” corrected Rakepick in a hushed voice. “She's appealing to Ceto Annis – saying she doesn't want to hurt her...”

Carewyn could tell why Rakepick and Duncan were so shocked. She could see it in Ravenclaw's face – this wasn't an act of mercy: it was a plea. It was desperation, worry, and caring, all rolled up into one.

The young witch possessed by the Cetus at first seemed to consider Ravenclaw, her posture very stiff and guarded as her pupil-less black eyes bore into her. The dark-haired Founder's face broke out into a very fragile, scared smile as she took several slow, cautious steps forward, still talking in as reassuring of a voice as she could muster.

Jacob's eyes widened too as he listened to Ravenclaw. “'Leorningcild' – did Ravenclaw just call Ceto one of her students?”

“Yeah,” breathed Duncan, his light-less eyes just as wide.

The young witch suddenly gave an abrupt lurch forward in mid-air. Her chest contorted like she was having trouble breathing.

“NE!” screamed Slytherin.

Ravenclaw just barely managed to grab hold of her comrade's arm to prevent him from attacking, but there was nothing any of them could do. In an instant, the young witch's mouth was almost ripped open by the Cetus's mass of black smoke as it left her body and returned to the air. The little Slytherin student was thrown to the ground in a motionless heap.

Slytherin tore out of Ravenclaw's grip and ran over to his student, turning her over. Her broken jaw was covered with blood, her veins were pitch black, and she was very pale and shaking from head to toe. Slytherin cradled the small girl in the crook of his left arm, murmuring as gently as he could despite the fear in his face as he trailed his wand along her arms, trying to heal the damage.

The Cetus, however, hadn't seemed to slow down at all. Ignoring Ravenclaw's continued pleas, it lurched through the air toward Hogwarts, slamming its tail against the side of the castle as it went.

“The Cetus must've taken all of the magic it could from that little girl,” said Jacob, his eyes narrowing upon the black smoke-like mass in hatred, “so it's looking for more victims to feed off of...”

Rakepick nodded grimly. “Ravenclaw's pleas were useless. The documents say that when Ceto Annis reduced herself down to her barest essence, all that was left was a parasitic shade. A monster, more than a human being. There was no point in appealing to Ceto's better instincts...because Ceto Annis the person no longer existed.”

Duncan and Carewyn exchanged a glance before they both looked up at the Cetus smashing stone off of one of Hogwarts' ramparts, shrieking that piercing, dolphin-like cry.

“Rakepick,” said Carewyn slowly, “you said that the Cetus was all that was left of Ceto's magic...and that it needs a host to strengthen and protect itself. And Ravenclaw, she said...that the Cetus eats magic to survive...”

Her almond-shaped blue eyes drifted over to Ravenclaw, who had started conjuring shields around the school to try to drive the Cetus back.

“...I think Ravenclaw must have realized...the Cetus wasn't doing any of this because it wanted to hurt people. It was made by Dark magic...but it lost any humanity or moral code when Ceto stripped herself down so much that she...well, lost 'herself' completely.”

Carewyn looked up at the Cetus. She tried to make out where its eel-like tail and sharp webbed claws were, inside the hulking smoke, but it was too opaque to see.

“Barnaby was right,” she said, her heart full of pity. “It's not a monster – it's a magical creature.”

~*~

“Fourth day of Winter Full Moon, 1022,” the podium read the next page of Slytherin's journal aloud in Dumbledore's voice, “Upon discussing the matter of sacrificial love with my dear Cyneburga, I've come to a thought I had not yet considered. There's nothing inherent in the word 'sacrifice' that slims it down to just the giving up of one's life. Is it not possible, therefore, that such magical love could be invoked by more means than dying? It's something I hope to examine further.

“Tomorrow I shall set off for Kent to follow up with the witch Merry Millard, who specializes in the study of love-centric spells and potions.

“Twentieth day of Winter Full Moon, 1022.

“Fie! My trip to Kent was a loss and a waste. I was forced to sleep in the woods outside Kent for the night before starting homeward, for all inns and residences in the area were owned by Muggles. I was able to conjure up a bluebell fire to keep me warm, but was unable to do much more for fear of drawing unwanted attention.

“All Saints Day, 1022.

“Thanks to my brother-in-law, Oswine, I was given access to the records owned by a wizard in Tamworth of a successful application of sacrificial love from the 9th century. The records testified to a young wizard who protected his younger brother during a Viking Raid. The boy was sick in bed, and the young wizard refused to leave his brother's side, no matter how the Norsemen urged him to get out of the way and let them take what they wanted. In the struggle, the young wizard was killed, and when the Norsemen made one step toward his brother's bed, they were thrown backward by a massive Shield Charm.

“I must confess that the account brought many things back to my mind that I wish it hadn't. The younger brother was even described as having bright scarlet hair.

“Full Moon, Month of Sacrifice, 1022.

“The flight home from Tamworth was delayed by heavy snow, which forced me to take shelter at the Peverell estate just outside London. My lateness greatly upset Cyneburga. She has grown very restless about my frequent traveling, expressing concerns for my health, but she needn't worry. Once the Cetus has been slain once and for all, there shall be much more time for us to enjoy each other's company.

“New Moon, Month of Sacrifice, 1022.

“The wizard I spoke to in Tamworth followed up with me by owl, forwarding me a copy of a passage from a book of White magic from the 5th century. The passage discusses another such instance of successfully applied sacrificial love, where a witch was imprisoned and later executed, only for her son to be magically shielded from harm when he was nearly killed in a duel several years later. I find it interesting that the spell she cast didn't manifest for so long – perhaps because the son's life hadn't been in life-threatening danger until that point? There are some details missing, but the question of whether or not the witch sacrificing her freedom or her life was what cast the spell would lend some credence to the idea that the sacrifice one makes does not have to be one's life.

“There has been a terrible chill in the air, as of late. I remember Godric once saying that the coldest winters exist so that you better appreciate the glory of summer – well, I certainly do long for summer, if only to thaw the ice that encases me every time I step out my door.

“Feast of St. Andrew, 1022.

“I have tracked down a promising lead just outside Oxford. Will write more, upon my return.”

~*~

Little by little, the memory of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw trying to beat the Cetus back away from Hogwarts began to blur. Carewyn watched as their surroundings melted and darkened – soon it was night, and the battle between the Founders and the Cetus raged on. There were several more students and teachers lying prone across the grounds, their veins pitch black and their bodies motionless. The four Founders had managed to steer the Cetus toward the Black Lake, encircling it in an attempt to keep it from escaping into the Forest or returning to the castle.

“Nûna!” cried Gryffindor.

At the same time, the two witches and two wizards shot blasts of blueish-white light from their wands. The light grew and grew, expanding and brightening, until it had completely enveloped the Cetus's mist. The creature shrieked in fury, its darkness lashing out; the light grew brighter still and more violent, like flames; Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin all hunched in on themselves as their wands began to quake in their hands – the blueish-white light began to crack through their wands, spilling out at both ends and lashing at their hands –

“The magic's so strong that they're having trouble controlling it,” said Jacob, his hollowed-out eyes narrowing tensely. “Wands are supposed to help you focus your magic – if what they're doing is so destructive that their wands can't channel it properly – ”

The blueish-white light attempted to suffocate the Cetus, pushing and shoving it into submission in the same way someone might try to shove some extra clothing into a suitcase. With every bit of force it used to trap the Cetus, however, that light also seemed to drain the Founders of their life and strength. Gryffindor had fallen to his knees, his wand arm visibly shaking; Ravenclaw was breathing very heavily and her eyes were so unfocused and glassy it was likely that she was barely conscious; Hufflepuff was holding her crackling, quaking wand with both hands and struggling not to collapse; Slytherin's hair and beard had turned gray and he clutched at his chest, gasping for air.

At long, long last, the Cetus was completely encased in light and began to shrink. With one last massive blue-tinted flare, the Cetus collided with the ground and fell still, encased in a thick stone shell that was about the size of an ostrich egg.

All four Founders collapsed, unable to stand and barely able to breathe. Carewyn couldn't help but walk up to them – she knew they were only memories that she couldn't touch, and in Slytherin's case, he was a blood purist bigot that she could never like as a person...but it didn't stop her from wanting to try to help them to their feet, when they were clearly in so much pain.

Jacob brought an arm around Carewyn and squeezed her against his side.

“It took that much out of them, just to imprison the Cetus,” he murmured.

“And even with that,” said Rakepick lowly, “the Cetus's power wasn't destroyed.”

She pointed to the egg-like artifact on the ground, which was already starting to form tiny black cracks.

~*~

“Sixth day of Old Yule, 1022. Godric's birthday.

“My research in Oxford has uncovered a story of a wizard who successfully applied the magic of sacrificial love in order to save his wife. The wife in question was a magic-less Muggle, so I hardly think he should have bothered – but nonetheless, the protective magic created something of a barrier around the deceased wizard's home, making it so that anyone who tried to attack the Muggle was instead injured with their own weapons. A local magical family was forced to intervene so that things didn't escalate. It's through that magical family that I acquired some interesting details –

“First, the wizard's Muggle wife was the target of the witch-hunters' wrath. Apparently it was a case of mistaken identity, where the Muggle townspeople saw some evidence of the wizard's magic and stupidly assigned blame to the one living thing in the house that wasn't able to cast magic.

“Second, the witch-hunters – since they presumed the wizard's innocence – gave him the chance to step aside, saying that he wouldn't be harmed if he bent to their will. The wizard, however, refused, and pleaded with the witch-hunters to take him in his wife's place. It was only after he refused to move that the witch-hunters attacked and killed him, and thus the protective enchantment was cast.

“These two facts reinforce what other successful cases have shown. In order to invoke the magic of sacrificial love, there must be a choice presented. Simply hurtling yourself in front of someone in the height of battle or dying with others in mind would not create that kind of postmortem shield. Therefore any sacrifice like the kind Godric has suggested would not invoke the magic needed to destroy the Cetus's power. Even if his emotions would no doubt be sincere, the Cetus would still have the power needed to eat away at the enchantments we've cast to contain it. Once it does that, it could theoretically turn our own Cursed Vaults against us and against Hogwarts itself. The Vaults we created to protect our students would attack them instead.

“Still looking into my second theory, regarding the nature of sacrifice. Hopefully I shall have a proper answer to that question, once I'm able to follow up with Johannes Eriugena.

“This winter has been colder than any I've ever seen. I may need to spend a few days in Oxford before setting off for home.”

~*~

The Black Lake dissolved, and suddenly Carewyn, Jacob, Rakepick and Duncan were inside the Cursed Vault they'd just left. It was devoid of the dozens of statues they'd seen when they arrived, so there was nothing halting Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw from running across the hall toward the Inner Vault. Both women looked a good ten years older than they'd been last, and they only looked about half-dressed, given that Hufflepuff's mane of brown curls and Ravenclaw's graying dark tresses flapped freely behind them and Ravenclaw wasn't even wearing her tiara.

Hufflepuff reached the inner doors first, taking out the same coral key Merula had used not too long ago – when the key came close to the keyhole, it began to vibrate, which alarmed Hufflepuff. She and Ravenclaw watched in horror as the silvery-white written warning appeared.

“Godric,” Hufflepuff breathed.

Ravenclaw turned to Hufflepuff, her face as white as a skull's as she frantically cried something else.

“She says he must have written that message, in case something went wrong,” said Duncan, and he actually looked rather troubled himself. He looked at Carewyn. “This was the day that...”

Carewyn nodded, her blue eyes welling up with pain as she watched Hufflepuff quickly unlock the door and the double doors swung open.

Lying in a heap on the floor beside a gold-trimmed glass column in the center of the Inner Vault's floor was the lifeless form of Godric Gryffindor. Like the two women, he looked a good ten years older than he had when he fought the Cetus, as well as quite a bit broader in the chest – but, Carewyn thought, he only looked a little older than Professor McGonagall. He was far too young to have died like this...

Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw both ran to their friend's side. Hufflepuff desperately pulled at Gryffindor's shoulders, talking rapidly as if she were begging him to wake up. Ravenclaw said nothing, instead staring down at Gryffindor helplessly through her tears. Her hands trembling, she rather quickly turned to look at the column – in a flash, she'd dashed over to it, before she raised her wand and silently lit it.

As Ravenclaw stared at the column, however, both she and Carewyn standing behind her could see a mass of inky black smoke throbbing dangerously just under the enchanted glass.

Ravenclaw's wand clattered to the floor. She covered her face in her hands and began to cry.

“She says that Gryffindor's spell failed,” said Rakepick. Her own face had lost most of its color as she stared at the inky darkness pulsing inside the column.

“'The Vaults...must remain locked,'” Duncan translated sadly.

Tears streaming down her face, Hufflepuff clutched the back of Gryffindor's red and white robes, hoisting him up and off the ground with as much strength as she could in a vain attempt to turn him over. When her strength failed her, she fell upon Gryffindor's back, and the room was filled with her scream of utter despair.

~*~

“Last Day of Yule, New Year 1023

“As expected, Johannes is a true philosopher among wizards! I think the answer to the Cetus dilemma may finally be within my grasp!

“Sacrificial love is, in truth, just that – a sacrifice, namely, anything that one would be hard pressed to lose, made solely out of the purest, most sincere love. Therefore, as you might presume, one needn't necessarily sacrifice their life in order to activate it, if there was something of equal or somehow greater value to give instead.

“The one problem this leaves us with, however, is how to purposefully cast such an enchantment – for now that I know the power that such a spell might have over the Cetus, my motivation for casting it would no longer be done out of selfless love, but for my own gain. One could always try to deceive another person into making such a sacrifice, but I would hesitate to try it, for deception is deathly poisonous to all forms of love. Nevertheless, it may be something to broach with Rowena, if she will accept my owl. Perhaps if I start with Helga, it will be easier – she knows the demons of despair Godric has faced over the years, and I know she cares for his safety as much as I.

“Will spend several more nights in London before starting the journey home. Hopefully the weather will have improved enough by then that the broom flight will be speedy.”

The last page of Slytherin's journal flapped back down onto the podium and fell still.

Lane picked it up, her blue eyes trailing helplessly over the Old English words, so much more shakily written than the ones written in the previous months. Dumbledore looked at Lane sadly.

“It looks like that's all he wrote,” he said softly.

Lane closed her eyes. “Godric's death was recorded on January 5th, 1023. Salazar would've learned of it either as soon as he got home, or en route.”

She bowed her head.

“...Salazar put in so much work, to try to save Godric's life. With Godric dead...he must have lost the will to keep fighting.”

~*~

Hufflepuff's scream echoed endlessly until it had faded away completely. Then the inner Vault's walls again began to quake, and molt, and change. The blueish-tinted darkness of the Vault was broken up by the warm, golden glow of firelight, and suddenly Jacob, Duncan, Rakepick, and Carewyn found themselves in the main room of a small cottage.

The ceilings were so much lower than back at Hogwarts – had this not been a memory, Carewyn thought that Bill and Ben would've probably hit their heads on it, were they standing at full height. The walls were made of dark red bricks and the low rafters, decorated with carvings of galloping unicorns and rearing dragons, were crafted out of warm cherry wood. There was a long table and stools set up on the far end by the sooty brick fireplace in the far right corner, while on the far left corner, there was a small library with two oak bookshelves full of well-worn books and two small, rounded Dante chairs with soft emerald green cushions.

Sitting in the Dante chair closest to the stained-glass window was Helga Hufflepuff, resting the Pensieve she'd left in the Cursed Vault for them down on a small table next to her. She looked far older now – her chocolate brown curls had gone gray, her dark skin was wrinkled and age-spotted, and she looked incredibly frail. And yet she smiled toward the empty Dante chair beside her and talked to herself with as much composure as she would at a fine feast.

Duncan and Rakepick both stiffened uncomfortably.

“What is it?” asked Carewyn.

“She said 'hello,' but...” said Duncan uneasily, “...there's nobody there.”

As Hufflepuff continued to speak, Rakepick's eyes narrowed upon her face.

“She's reassuring the chair that she's not mad,” she said, her eyebrows raised scornfully.

Her dark blue eyes then abruptly widened.

“...She knows we're listening.”

“What?” said Jacob, taken aback. “But she can't know that – this is just a memory!”

“Yes,” said Rakepick, her eyes still very wide upon Hufflepuff. “And she knows that, as well. Hufflepuff knows this memory of herself will go into the Pensieve – so she's talking as if the person who will find the Pensieve in the future is sitting with her in this room!”

Carewyn looked from Rakepick to Hufflepuff. The little old woman did indeed look like she was having a pleasant, but still serious conversation with an unseen person in the chair beside her.

With a purposeful stride, Carewyn crossed the room, settling herself down on the ground in front of the chair Hufflepuff was speaking to.

“Translate everything she's saying, to the word,” Carewyn told Rakepick firmly, keeping her eyes locked on the old woman's face.

Rakepick followed Carewyn across the room, slowly lowering herself to the ground so that she was bent down beside Carewyn, her eyes also on Hufflepuff.

“'You must have put in a lot of work, to end up here,'” Rakepick translated little by little. “'I applaud your courage – I can only hope that you either are or were one of my students.'”

Hufflepuff laughed softly, before growing much more serious.

“'The same day that Godric passed away, I received a letter from Salazar. Although he'd left the school, he'd continued his research into how to use sacrificial love – the strongest white magic there is – to purify the Cetus of its evil, parasitic power. Unfortunately his letter did not arrive soon enough to save Godric's life...and after the news of Godric's passing reached Salazar, his health declined very quickly. I never received another letter from him again.

“'Several years later, Rowena's health also started to fail. Like Salazar, she had trouble recovering from the Cetus's attack, thanks in no small part to her emotional attachment to Ceto, when she was still alive. Despite the animosity that grew between them in later years, Ceto was Rowena's first student and – I would think – something of a daughter to her, long before she gave birth to Helena. Sometimes I wonder if the reason Rowena had such difficulty relating to Helena all the way up until her death was that she never fully recovered from the heartbreak of Ceto embracing Dark magic and turning her back on Rowena's teachings.

“'This is why I am the only one who can give you this final piece of wisdom, in how best to defeat the Cetus. According to Salazar's research, a spell of sacrificial love requires that the spell's caster be given a choice of whether or not to make a sacrifice, and that they choose to make the sacrifice for someone else, for no other reason than pure, selfless love. The sacrifice needn't be one's life, but it must be something of equal or greater value that they would be hard-pressed to give up. There can also be no element of righteousness or self-gain in play. The reason Godric's sacrifice failed is not just because he struggled with whether or not to value his own life many times over the years...but because, in the end, he chose to die with the aim of defeating the Cetus and saving our school from evil – because he made the choice in order to live up to the code of honor and chivalry he aspired to, not solely to protect those he loved most and who loved him in return. Therefore he was not invoking sacrificial love, when he gave up his own life. It was a noble act – but it was not an expression of true love.'”

Rakepick's voice had become very quiet. Carewyn glanced at her out the side of her eye – she'd lowered her gaze to her gloved hand resting on her thigh.

Hufflepuff's hazel-brown eyes flickered with a bit more sadness.

“'This is, sadly, where Salazar noted a terrible paradox,'” Rakepick translated her once more. “'In your pursuit to discover a way to purify the Cetus so as to protect yourself and others, you've come seeking a way to invoke the magic of sacrificial love. But now that you know that sacrificial love could be strong enough to defeat the Cetus...any attempt you might make to use it will likely be tainted by your desire to defeat it, rather than simply being about expressing love for the people you cherish most. The magic you seek to invoke...you cannot...simply because you wish to purposefully invoke it.'”

Duncan lashed through the air down toward Hufflepuff, hovering over her with righteous anger. “WHAT?! So you're saying that even if we know what to do now, it won't even work!?”

Carewyn's face blanched. 'No – no, that can't be! There has to be some way we – !'

Hufflepuff's expression softened with a smile, but her eyes were still far too sad and full of regret to be anything happy.

“'It's possible that a third party could cast the spell of love in your place – making the sacrifice for you, without knowing that it would serve as the counter-curse you need...but for that to come true, you would have to keep the knowledge you've learned completely to yourself. The person would have to make a sacrifice...without knowing that it could save your life, or the lives of others.'”

Jacob glanced at Rakepick out the side of his eye warily.

“'I myself could never do such a thing, to anyone I truly loved...but perhaps this is why, in the end...I'll die before I can ensure the Cetus never harms my Hogwarts or my students again.'”

Hufflepuff's gaze drifted down to the seat of the chair. It almost looked like she was looking Carewyn right in the face, though of course her eyes never lit up in acknowledgment of her.

“'...You must be a very brave, clever, hard-working, and determined person to have made it this far. I almost wish I could see your face as clearly as you must see mine, in whatever future you live in. I wish I could give you all the answers – I wish I could tell you how best to protect yourself and the ones you love from the Cetus. And I'm sorry – so sorry – to leave this heavy burden on your shoulders. One thing I do know, however, is that love is most powerful when it's reciprocated. Even if you can't invoke the otherworldly protection of sacrificial love...I truly believe, with all of my heart and soul, in the power that comes from loving someone who loves you in return.'”

Hufflepuff's eyes had filled with tears as she raised her gaze back to the chair itself.

“'Cherish your friends. Embrace your differences. Think of their well-being before your own pride. Let their memory give you strength and their love give you courage.'”

Her lips spread into a soft smile as the tears trailed down her wrinkled face.

“ ...Now go. The column will be waiting for you, when you get back. The Pensieve might be a bit hard to navigate, but you should be able to pull yourself up and out with a proper Ascending Charm. It always worked well for Rowena, whenever she consulted her past memories.'”

And with one final smile, Helga Hufflepuff's old, wrinkled, tear-stained face slowly faded away and disappeared once again into endless, silvery mist.

~*~

All of a sudden, echoing through the walls of the underground library came a wonderful, otherworldly song. The sound made Lane's heart swell, despite never having heard anything quite so beautiful before in her life.

Dumbledore blinked up at the ceiling in surprise, but rose from the blackwood chair at once.

“Come, Lane – we should return to the surface, quickly.”

With a sweep of his robes, he climbed the stairs up and out of Slytherin's library, Lane at his heels.

When they reached solid ground once more, they found Fawkes the phoenix soaring down toward them. Dumbledore extended an arm for the scarlet bird to land on, taking the scroll from his shining beak and unrolling it. His light blue eyes narrowed upon each word.

“Lane, my dear,” he said very gravely, as he looked up at her, “it appears that Carewyn and Jacob have entered the final Cursed Vault.”

“Jacob?” gasped Lane. “He's...”

“He's alive,” said Dumbledore as kindly as he could. “My guess is that he seeks to atone for the mistakes he has made. Nonetheless...Hogwarts is under attack, by those who would seek to use the Cetus for their own evil ends – I must return at once – ”

Lane grabbed the older wizard by the sleeve of his robes.

“Professor, please, take me with you,” she urged him. Despite the frailness of her voice, her grip on his arm was very firm.

Dumbledore looked upon Lane with a rather concerned expression. “I understand your feelings. But I must warn you – you do not just have family on the side protecting Hogwarts.”

Lane's blue eyes narrowed upon Dumbledore's face. She clearly understood what he meant – her father and siblings were there too, trying to break into the Vault.

“This battle will be very dangerous,” said Dumbledore, “far more dangerous for you than most.”

“If I'm in danger, then so are my bairns,” Lane shot back, her soft, level voice low in the back of her throat with determination. “Please take me with you.”

The Headmaster inclined his head respectfully to Lane. “Very well. Hold on tightly.”

He raised his arm – Fawkes took flight, and Dumbledore seized hold of his pet's tail. In a flash of scarlet and gold flames, Lane and Dumbledore vanished. Mere moments later, the steps leading down to Slytherin's library melted away back into the reservoir from whence they came, leaving no trace that anyone had been there.

~*~

When Jacob and Rakepick both helped her out of the Pensieve, Carewyn soon found herself enveloped in a gigantic hug by Barnaby, Ben, Charlie, and Bill, all of whom looked very pale and relieved at the sight of her. True to Hufflepuff's words, just over Bill and Barnaby's arms, she could see a gold-trimmed glass column, identical to the ones in the other Vaults, waiting for her – Bill had said it appeared just before Duncan and Jacob first emerged from the Pensieve. Just like back in Helga’s memories, Carewyn could see a large shadow burbling behind the glass -- there were also more inky black stains covering the base of the column, not unlike the stain that spread across the white and gold tile floor.

“Not long after you left, there were these really bad rumbling sounds, coming from outside the Vault,” Charlie told Carewyn. “Liz and Tonks went to investigate, and they'd found the Giant Squid attacking what looked like four red-robed figures...”

“One had black trim around the hood of his robe,” said Bill solemnly. “Jae said he sounded like the Leader you saw at the meeting with R.”

Rakepick's shoulders straightened tensely.

“Charles Cromwell,” growled Jacob.

A chill ran down Carewyn's spine at the memory of Charles's cold, cruel face in Rakepick's mind, alongside her tortured screams and his heartless taunt.

“It's what you deserve, isn't it?”

Ben's eyes narrowed. “Badeea and I conjured up the strongest shields we could around the front doors and Talbott helped me Transfigure the doors into a wall, to keep them out, but...”

“If we don't do something soon, it could turn into a siege, Cromwell,” said Merula very solemnly. “What's the plan? How do we destroy the Cetus?”

Carewyn didn't reply for a long moment. Hufflepuff's words once again echoed in her ears.

“It's possible that a third party could cast the spell of love in your place – making the sacrifice for you, without knowing that it would serve as the counter-curse you need...'”

'I could lie to my friends, to save them,' she thought, 'just like I tried before, when I first decided to go after the last Vault alone...but...'

The memory of Rowan pushing Ben out of the way of Rakepick's Killing Curse – of her being tossed to the ground by the force, and her eyes staring unblinkingly and lifelessly up at Carewyn as she grabbed hold of her, screaming –

'Rowan's death couldn't even evoke the magic of sacrificial love because she wasn't given a choice,' thought Carewyn, and her clenched fists began to shake her sides. 'She loved us more than anyone – yet I would give just about anything, if it meant she could still be here – '

The leader of the Circle of Khanna closed her eyes. She was silent for a very long moment before she finally responded.

“We...can't destroy the Cetus, Merula.”

Everyone straightened up, startled. No one looked more surprised than Rakepick.

“Miss Cromwell – ” she started, her usually cool, haughty face betraying genuine concern.

“I will not lie to them, Rakepick!” Carewyn cut her off fiercely. Her voice lowered significantly as she regained control of her temper. “...Not this time.”

~*~

And so Carewyn gathered the entire Circle of Khanna together, just outside the inner doors of the Vault. She told them everything that she'd seen in the Pensieve. She told them about the Founders' battle with the Cetus, how much damage it had done to them, and what Helga Hufflepuff had said.

“The spell needed to destroy the Cetus's power requires an act of selfless love – something done with no thought of morality or self-gain,” said Carewyn. “But it's a spell I can't cast. Neither can Jacob. Neither can Rakepick. Because all of us are too focused on making sure that R is defeated and that the Cursed Vaults never hurt anyone again. If we tried to make that sacrifice, we'd just end up like Gryffindor – dead, with nothing to show for it.”

Carewyn bowed her head, unable to look any of her friends in the face.

“Hufflepuff said that if I kept the knowledge to myself...someone else could make the sacrifice instead, ignorant of the power it would have, and it could work...but...”

Her blue eyes welled up with pain – she closed them to try to keep her composure.

“...I cannot and will not lie to you, if it means I might lose you forever. I've already learned the cost of not trusting the ones you care for most. I do not intend to make that mistake again.”

She swallowed back the lump in her throat that made her want to cry.

“So all that's left to do...is to plan a proper evacuation.”

Everyone looked shocked.

“What?” said Talbott.

“Carewyn...” murmured Andre, looking stunned and horrified.

“Merula said it best – if we don't do something soon, this'll turn into a siege,” said Carewyn. “There's only one way in and out of this place – once R reaches those outer doors, there'll be no way out for any of us. And if my grandfather is leading the group on its way here...then he won't hesitate to kill every last person who stands between him and the Cetus.”

‘Jacob, Rakepick, and I...there is no going back for us,’ she thought. ‘We can’t run from this...but...’

Carewyn steadied her grip on her wand, forcing herself to raise her head and look up at her friends. Her blue eyes were swimming with tears, but she put on the bravest expression she could.

“I'm grateful to all of you...for everything you've done. But I don't want you becoming martyrs. So I'm disbanding the Circle of Khanna. Everyone is free to go. I'll cover your retreat. Go back to the castle. Go find the teachers and send them down here, if you want. You've all done more than I ever could've asked for or dreamed of, and...”

She choked.

“...And...thank you.”

There was a resounding silence. Then Bill came up beside Carewyn, bringing an arm around her so that he could clutch her shoulder.

“We'll cover the retreat,” he corrected firmly, “of anyone who decides to go.”

Carewyn looked up at Bill, her eyes widening.

“Bill, it's suicide. If you stay here, you'll die!”

“I'm not afraid of dying, Carey,” Bill said sharply. “You know what my Boggart is – what it's always been. It's losing the ones who mean the most to me, and that includes you.”

He used the hand he'd anchored on her shoulder to pull her closer to him so he could take hold of her other shoulder too and look her straight-on in the face.

“Carey...we started this thing together,” he said, his brown eyes boring into her blue, “and I promised myself a long time ago that we'd finish it the same way. No matter what that 'finish' is – I'm with you.”

Carewyn stared at Bill, disbelieving and speechless. Charlie strode up behind Carewyn, wrapping his arms around her from behind and leaning his head on her shoulder.

“We're with you,” he said with a small smile. “Fireballs, remember? We fight together.”

Ben took Carewyn's hand on Bill's shoulder and gave it an affectionate squeeze, his dark eyes very hard and determined. “We'll fight together and fall together.”

“Right!” said Barnaby brightly. “And we'll kick R's tail real good, too!”

“Reckon they could use a good Dungbomb to the face too, while we're at it,” said George.

“Chuck it down their throats!” laughed Fred.

Talbott looked at Carewyn very seriously. “Whatever anyone else chooses to do, Carewyn...I'm staying right here.”

“Me too,” said Penny, her eyes full of tears.

“Both of us will,” agreed Beatrice.

“All of us will,” corrected Andre.

“You bet!” said Tonks, and Liz, Jae, Diego, Tulip, and Cedric all nodded.

“We love you, Carewyn,” said Chiara gently. “Even if we can't cast that spell...Hufflepuff said love is strongest when it's reciprocated. We're stronger together than we could ever be apart.”

“You said you didn't want us to be martyrs,” said Merula harshly. “Well, you haven't presented a better option, save us leaving you to fend for yourself.”

Her pink eyes bore into Carewyn's face with a kind of fire she'd never seen before.

“If it takes every last one of us to keep R's slimy mitts off the Cetus...then so be it.”

The flood of affection was too much for Carewyn to handle. She couldn't summon any words at all – all she could do was just stand there, wrapped up in Bill and Charlie's arms and holding Ben's hand, while trying to contain the trembling in her shoulders.

Carewyn caught Jacob's eye as he stood off to the side, Duncan floating just over his shoulder. The older Cromwell's eyes were also filled with tears, his expression touched by a very soft smile. He looked like he'd never been so proud of his sister in his life.

“Thank you,” Carewyn's voice came out as a very fragile, tear-soaked whisper, even though she managed not to actually cry. “...Thank you.”

~*~

Within moments, the entire Circle of Khanna had gotten into formation in front of the Vault's inner doors like an army prepared for war. The younger students – Fred, George, Cedric, and Beatrice – were scattered among the ranks so that they each had two sixth years on either side of them who could support and protect them. Carewyn stood toward the back of the formation on the top stair in front of the Vault, flanked by Rakepick and Bill on her left and Jacob and Merula on her right.

As the Circle stood tall and waited, listening to the rumbles and crashes of Charles Cromwell and his reinforcements fighting off the Giant Squid and barraging the outside of the Vault, an eerie stillness filled the air. It made time feel like it was moving very slowly – like every lone beat of your heart echoed over several times in your ear.

Despite being a ghost who wouldn't be able to do much fighting, Duncan had nonetheless also chosen to stay. He drifted up between Jacob and Carewyn, his light-less eyes likewise focused on the reinforced outer doors of the Vault in the distance.

“I didn't think I'd have to worry about you two dying,” he said quietly. “Especially you, Carewyn.”

Jacob gave Duncan a dark smile. “You mean you didn't really think I was going to get myself killed, all those times you got mad at me for doing something dangerous?”

“Piss off,” snapped Duncan.

Jacob tried to give a light “ha” of laughter, but it died before he could fully open his mouth. The smile slid off his face as easily as if it had been wiped off with a handkerchief.

“Just promise me one thing,” Duncan said lowly.

“What?” asked Carewyn.

“Promise me that you won't stay behind.”

Jacob looked up at Duncan, startled.

“I stayed behind because I was too much of a coward to die,” mumbled Duncan, his head falling noticeably. “Because I couldn't accept that I couldn't do all the great things I'd wanted to do – that nothing I'd done really mattered – that my life was so insignificant that...nobody would really care, after I was gone.”

“Ashe...” murmured Jacob, but Duncan shook his head and forcefully cut him off.

“But you...neither of you are like me. You're not cowardly. And...there are people who love you. So...so don't stay behind. Even if you're worried about me being lonely or something stupid like that – don't. Because if this is the day you die...”

Duncan's face cracked into a bittersweet smile.

“...I want you to let go! Be free. Sing and laugh and...rest. Not...linger.”

Jacob's blue eyes were full of pain as he stared up at the ghost of his best friend. Carewyn's eyes rested on Duncan's ghostly hand instead of his face, feeling genuinely touched by the sentiment.

'You may have been hard to deal with sometimes, Duncan,' she thought, 'but I'm really glad that I got to be your friend, too...like Jacob did.'

She looked up, once again looking out at the outer doors in the distance.

'If this is the day I die...'

The thought hurt her too much to contemplate. If it was her last day, she'd never see Hogwarts again. She'd never play in Quidditch friendlies again, or challenge her friends to Wizard Duels, or sing to the creatures at the Magical Creature Preserve again. She'd never had the chance to tell Professor McGonagall how much she admired her or thank Professor Snape properly for teaching her Legilimency and Occlumency. She'd never see Orion fly with the Montrose Magpies. She'd never be able to visit Torvus again or to help Hagrid with his magical creatures. She’d never graduate school. She’d never join the Department of Magical Law Enforcement or help anyone with their legal problems, like she’d dreamed. She’d never be able to live the life she’d always wanted, free of the Cursed Vaults and R, with her brother beside her. ...She'd never see her mother again...never hug her tight again, never listen to any more of her historical lectures...never sing Christmas carols with her again.

Carewyn closed her eyes, exhaling heavily. Then she took a deep breath.

“A long, long time ago...

I can still remember how that music used to make me smile...”

On the other side of Bill, Rakepick stiffened visibly. Everyone else turned to glance at Carewyn. Her voice was very soft and low in her throat, to the point that it was almost a whisper – it was only because the Vault had been so very still and eerily quiet that her voice could've been heard at all.

“And I knew if I had my chance that I could make those people dance,

And maybe they'd be happy for a while...

But February made me shiver – with every paper I'd deliver,

Bad news on the doorstep...I couldn't take one more step...

I can't remember if I cried when I read about his widowed bride...

But something touched me deep inside...the day...the music...died...”

Carewyn's voice trailed off into silence. She brought her right hand not holding her wand up onto her shoulder, as if subconsciously wanting to shift the terrible invisible weight that rested there.

The unsettling quiet returned, settling down over everyone like a cold blanket. Then, abruptly, the silence was broken by Duncan, who had leaned backward in mid-air in a “lying down” sort of posture with his left leg crossed over his right and his arms behind his head.

“So bye, bye, Miss American Pie –

Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry.

Them good old boys were drinking whiskey and rye – ”

His voice was less melancholy than Carewyn's had been, but no less quiet. He glanced at her out the side of his eye, and Carewyn couldn't help but smile at him as she again slipped in,

“ – Singing, 'this'll be the day that I die'...'this'll be the day that I die...'”

Another voice had joined Duncan and Carewyn's on the last word. They both turned to Jacob, whose face broke into a smile as he continued the song, picking up the tempo and lightening the tone.

“Did you write the book of love, and do you have faith in God above, If the Bible tells you so? Ahh, do you believe in rock and roll? Can music save your mortal soul, and Can you teach me how to dance real sloooow?”

It didn't take long for Jacob's enthusiasm to rub off on Duncan and Carewyn. Regardless of how strange it must have looked, the three sing the song a bit louder and cheerfully, in spite of the dark Vault they were in or how heavy the hopelessness of their situation weighed on their shoulders. Duncan swirled around Jacob in lackadaisical spirals, his translucent hands passing through Jacob's shoulder and hair a few times as the two danced around each other.

“Well, I know that you're in love with him, 'cause I saw you dancin' in the gym! You both kicked off your shoes... Man, I dig those rhythm and bluuUUUES!”

Jacob's high note was excellently pitched despite the flippancy with which he sang. Merula couldn't keep the huge, amused grin off her face.

“I was a lonely teenage broncin' buck with a pink carnation and a pickup truck, But I knew I was out of luck the day the music died...”

Soon everyone else was laughing and smiling – some of the half-bloods like Penny, Beatrice, Chiara and Badeea were starting to sing along, in places. Ben, the lone Muggle-born in the group, even sang along with the chorus when they reached it again.

“I started singing,

'Bye, bye Miss American Pie!' Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry. And them good ole boys were drinking whiskey and rye, Singing 'this'll be the day that I die'...'this'll be the day that I die!'”

Before long, this miserable, rag-tag band had devolved into a laughing, singing, dancing gaggle of teenagers. Duncan, Jacob, and Carewyn took turns singing different stanzas, passing the invisible “microphone” from one to the other with over-dramatic flourishes, as those who knew the words jumped in when they could and those who didn't danced and swayed along. Diego was dancing more passionately than anyone, of course, but Tulip was giving him a run for his money. Fred and George pretty consistently shoved themselves in front of whomever was dancing so as to hilariously upstage them. Diego was even able to somehow rope Ismelda into dancing with him for a stanza. Before long, even those students raised by wizards who'd never heard the song in their lives like Andre and the Weasleys were able to sing gleefully along to the chorus.

“Oh, and there we were all in one place, a generation lost in space, With no time left to start again...

So come on, Jack be nimble, Jack be quick –

Jack Flash sat on a candlestick 'cause...fire is the devil's only frieeeend...

Oh, and as I watched him on the stage,

My hands were clenched in fists of rage – No angel born in Hell could break that Satan's spell!

And as the flames climbed high into the night to light the sacrificial rite, I saw Satan laughing with delight the day the music died... He was singing,

'Bye, bye, Miss American Pie!' Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry. Them good ole boys were drinking whiskey and rye, Singing, 'this'll be the day that I die' – 'this'll be the day that I – '”

BOOM.

Everyone came to an abrupt halt.

The rumbling, blasting sounds that had echoed over their heads previously hadn't been so close as the one they heard now. It came from the outer doors of the Vault – as if someone was ramming at the other side with a battering ram.

The entire Circle of Khanna stared at the doors once more, all cheer and laughter fading from their faces. All at once, the gravity of the situation had returned.

Any minute, R would be ramming down that door – and then they'd have to fight with everything they had, with no guarantee that they'd survive to see another day. It made them suddenly feel both incredibly stupid and so much, much younger than they'd felt just ten minutes ago.

Before the freezing cold silence could completely congeal, another lower, more resounding voice broke through.

“I met a girl who sang the blues, and I asked her for some happy news,

But she just smiled and turned away...”

It was Rakepick.

The entire Circle of Khanna turned to face the ex-professor. She'd not joined into any of their revelry, staying on the sidelines and silently watching – but in that moment, her dark blue eyes locked on the outer doors much the same way as everyone else’s had been earlier, she sang the next stanzas in a soft, crisp, untrained voice that reminded Carewyn of the crackling of autumn leaves.

“I went down to the sacred store where I'd heard the music years before, But the man there said the music wouldn't play...

And in the streets, the children screamed,

The lovers cried, and the poets dreamed, But not a word was spoken – The church bells all were broken...”

Carewyn walked over to stand beside Rakepick, watching her silently.

Was that pain in her eyes? Were there tears? Carewyn couldn't poke around in Rakepick's head – but she couldn't help but wonder how much of what Rakepick had told them, about her background with R and about all of the regrets she had about what had happened with Jacob and...well, Carewyn herself...was running through the ex-professor's mind, in that moment.

‘She learned all the words, in that time after she heard me singing American Pie, as a kid,’ thought Carewyn. ‘Even though before then, she’d turned her back on all things Muggle.’

Rakepick’s dark blue eyes grew a bit smaller, almost sadder, upon the far wall.

“And the three men I admire most – the Father, Son, and the Holy Ghost – They caught the last train for the coast the day...the music...died...”

“And they were singing – ”

Rakepick looked up, startled, as Carewyn joined her, her almond-shaped eyes also resting on the outer doors on the far end as she sang a sweet harmony part over her.

“'Bye, bye, Miss American Pie...' Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry. Them good ole boys were drinking whiskey and rye, Singing, 'this'll be the day that I die'...'this'll be the day that I die'...”

In that moment, the Circle of Khanna seemed to have regained their posture.

Yes, it was silly – yes, it was stupid, to find any bit of comfort in something so insignificant and pointless – but no, in fact, it wasn't pointless. Perhaps things were hopeless. Perhaps they would fail. Perhaps they would die and never see their loved ones again. But they were together – and in that togetherness, they felt strong. In that community, they felt courageous – enough to sing about the specter of Death looming over them with optimism and heart rather than despair.

These children were, in truth, an army.

“They were singing, ‘Bye, bye, Miss American Pie...’ Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry. Them good ole boys were drinking whiskey and rye, Singing, 'this'll be the day that I die.'”

[To be concluded...]

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gryffindor-glizzy-gobbler · 4 years ago

Text

Out Past Curfew (Pt. 3/5)

“You’re an absolute prick, you know that right?”

“And that gave you a right to use the Avis charm on me?” Draco had his head leaned back over the sink and you had your short - significantly smaller than Draco’s - fingers running through his blonde hair to comb the small yellow feathers out of his locks into the bowl of the sink. When Draco had made that comment towards you, accusing your desire to have sex with him, you were angry.

Appalled, even, that someone would have the balls to accuse something so out of pocket to you. Of course your first reaction was to cast a spell on him that wouldn’t exactly kill him, just get the hell away from you. And it did. Casting the “Avis” spell, this spell was something that wasn’t used very commonly. It’s usually used as a distraction spell, but it was taught in Defense Against the Dark Arts.

So it was defensive against something.

This spell in particular was used to produce a flock of birds - and sometimes, if cast right - will attack the person you cast it towards. So when you created the spell, the yellow canaries that sprouted out of the tip of your wand began to flap around Draco’s person and pecked at his exposed arms. He of course, screamed at you, asking “what the bloody hell is wrong with you?” which made you rephrase the question, emphasizing more on the “YOU”.

But here you are, feeling a bit bad that his hair was tangled with yellow feathers and that his arms were decorated with shallow, dryly bled cuts. You were wetting his hair with soapy water and running your fingers through his hair to comb the feathers out, and you were a bit irritated that he ended up guilt-tripping you into this.

“Where did you even learn that?” Draco grumbled as he looked up at you, his neck seemingly relaxing under your touch under the warm water. “If you actually paid attention in that class instead of fucking around with the Gryffindor students, you’d know they taught us that the first semester of school- the first week, actually. But no. You glide your way through your classes and your only purpose of actually attending this school is to ruin other people’s experiences and entertain your own sick and twisted-“

“Squibby?”

“WHAT?” You snapped, peeved that he had the audacity to interrupt your rant, and that’s when Draco pointed, his eyes trailing down to the position you had uncocniously put yourself in to make it easier to run your wet hands through his hair to brush out the feathers. Sitting on top of his lap, stranding him, you had your chest pressed against his to lean forward in order to easily pluck out the mess that was in his hair. Your legs were perfectly squeezing against his own, framing his hips and your groins were both touching each other’s.

Even if you moved off, you would have to rub up against him, and you wanted nothing more to prevent that. You were stuck, right now, sitting on his lap while you were running his hands through his hair. Might as well finish this up before you have to go through the excruciating - yet unstoppable - brief moment of pleasure that would arise from the friction between his shaft that was being hugged by his pants between your womanhood, which was pressed against his groin - only being separated from his pants by the thin fabric of your panties.

“Fuck me..”

“Only if you let me.” Draco responded with a smirk as he reached his hands up, which had been dangling by his sides, to gently rest them on your hips above the waistline of your skirt. “Get your HANDS off me-“ You emphasized the volume of ‘hands’ with a yank of his hair, and he only responded with a deep groan, which almost trekked into growling territory,.

Did he like that?

You felt a bitter taste in your mouth as his hands didn’t leave your hips, his fingers gripping into the top of your pleated skirt. “Do you want me to?”

“I wouldn’t have wanted you to if I didn’t ask, you absolute git.” You knitted your eyebrows together in frustration was the accusation left his lips, and you noticed his expression. He looked hungry. But not in the way that meant that he wanted food. He wanted something else right now, and as the realization washed over you.. your face burned a light pink before your entire body tensed up due to the sound that was echoing outside.

Footsteps.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck-“ The panic that pumped through your veins disintegrated the desire not to rub up on him more so than you already had, and as you hopped off of his lap, earning a low groan from Draco, you leaned down and grabbed his hand forcefully and pulled his wrist towards you into one of the stalls.

“I didn’t think you were so eager-“ He cooed a bit, his tone seeming a bit surprised as you pulled him into the stall and locked it. Whacking the back of your hand against his stomach, you hissed through your teeth a command that left him stunned.

“Pull me up.” “What-?” “PULL ME UP, MALFOY.” You whisper screamed, and the first thing that came to mind was not what you figured, and you were bracing yourself as he hooked his hands under your thighs and pulled you up to press against him, him leaning against the door as a teacher came into the bathroom.

The two of you had gone into the men’s bathroom to wash out his hair, but if a teacher walked in on you two being in the bathroom together... there would definitely be some questions. Some questions you didn’t know how to answer without looking suspicious.

As you were straddling his torso instead of his lap, you hooked your hands around his neck and kept your fingers steady against his nape to keep you straightened up against his front, your chests being pushed together once again. Your hips were hovering above his groin and you were practically holding your breath as a familiar pair of shoes walked into the bathroom.

“Who’s in the stall?” Professor Snape said in his familiar contained yet emotionless voice. “Just me, sir.” Draco announced, and that alone would normally piss of a teacher, but considering the nature of Draco and Snape’s relationship, that seemed to be the opposite.

“You doing your rounds, Draco?” Snape inquired as he walked into the stall to go to the bathroom. “Yes sir.” “Where would the head girl be?” “She would be in the bathroom as well, sir. Unless she walked off without me.” “Of course.” Snape responded as he sat down, the ruffling of his black robes being heard in yours and Draco’s ears.

You slowly let out your held breath through the space in between your teeth, trying to keep your exhale as quiet as possible. Draco could feel how still you were being as your thighs were squeezing his ribs, your arms now practically being hooked around his neck. You were internally begging that your body wouldn’t slip down any more than it had, since at this point your rear was hovering above Draco’s.

 And based on how his lap had felt before, the boner that had suddenly arose earlier would now be even more rock solid than it was before. You only could pray that his grip on your thighs wouldn’t loosen, even a little bit. HIs fingers were dug into the underside of your legs, understandably firm - paralleling the force you had gripping his neck. If you thought the position the two of you were in was intimate before... then you were in a whole different ball park now.

That’s when Draco made a bold move by whispering to you in an aggravated tone. He was being as completely and utterly quiet as he could so Snape couldn’t hear him in the next stall. She knew that if Snape heard, they would both be dead due to the vulgarness of the words that left his mouth.

“Squeeze me harder, why don’t ya, squibby? You make holding myself back so difficult sometimes...”

#draco malfoy #fanfic #harry potter #hogwarts #fanfiction #draco x reader

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adenei · 4 years ago

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Auror 99 - Ch. 7

Chapter 7: Changing Headquarters

When Harry arrived back up on the elevator, he and Ron walked over to Captain Holt’s office. “Come in,” they heard him say, “And shut the door.” The blinds were already drawn so that no one could see in for their particular meeting. “How was the interrogation?” Holt asked.

“Well we’ve received more information, which is promising,” Harry said. “Is there a possibility that King can be a part of this debriefing, too?”

“Ah, forgive me. I almost forgot.” Holt walked over to the portrait and said, “We are ready for Minister Shacklebolt now.” The figure in the portrait nodded and disappeared off the side of the frame. No sooner had the figure disappeared than Kinglsey appeared in their place.

Harry and Ron both looked surprised. Kingsley registered their shock and explained. “The Ministry has been working hard to develop portraits where the owner can ‘step into the frame’ if you will, to have a conversation. It’s a bit like using the floo, but works in long distance cases. It’s good to see you both! Now where do we stand? What have I missed?”

Ron spoke up. “Well, we had a lead on Gerteso yesterday. We tailed him and witnessed an exchange in Manhattan outside of McLeod’s. When the second person, who we were able to identify as Artie Rettinburg, disapparated, it spooked Jake and he broke our cover to try and arrest Gerteso. I dueled him, but it was unlike anything I’ve been in combat with before. He didn’t use a single defensive spell, and got away when he injured Jake.”

Kingsley nodded, so Ron continued. “Jake is fine, it was a low level fire curse, but I had to obliviate him and make up a muggle story for his injury with the rest of the team, which seems to be holding. We were able to bring Rettinburg in for questioning today, and he seemed to solidify some of our hunches.”

“Which are?” Kingsley asked interestedly.

“Ron believes Gerteso is a vampire, and is after someone or something with the Vampire Mob,” Harry said.

“Sanguinity?” Kingsley asked concerningly. “But Voldemort extinguished the entire population of vampires in Britain. There’s a very slim chance that Gerteso is actually a vampire, as he is British.”

“Not unless Gerteso wasn’t on any Ministry record, which we’ve found surprisingly little on him anywhere. The only way we were able to obtain his actual name was through the spells he cast while at Gringotts, and the fact that Ollivander kept meticulous records and hid them well away so Voldemort couldn’t obtain them before he was captured,” Ron countered. “Minister, er, Kingsley, he’s got the speed and agility that’s often associated with them, and the physical description matches, too. Plus, Rettinburg all but suggested he’s a vampire. He said Gerteso mentioned claiming what was rightfully his.”

“Which is? Kingsley and Holt both said at the same time.

“Something from The Cryptic. It sounds like Gerteso wants to kill him off and take his place,” Harry said.

“It all fits, even down to the muggle identity thefts. He was biding his time practicing there until he could get his hands on the wand records so he could trace and locate The Cryptic.”

“But how does the laundering fit into that?” Kingsley pressed.

“We haven’t discussed it,” Harry spoke, “but my theory is that he needs it to pay his way into the inner circles.”

Ron nodded. “That would make sense. Lackeys like Rettinburg never get close to The Cryptic. Gerteso would need gold to buy his way in, especially if his vampire status isn’t well known.”

“Forgive me for interrupting, but what I don’t understand is what revenge Gerteso is actually after. What is, as he believes, rightfully his?” Holt asked.

Kingsley looked at the three pensively. “I have a contact in Italy that may be able to clarify things for us. I should be back soon,” Kingsley walked off out the side of the portrait.

No sooner had Kingsley left, there was a knock on the door before it burst open. A short, bony blonde woman walked in with a look that crossed between equally furious and amused. “Raymond, Raymond, Raymond, did you really think you could conduct an investigation on my turf?” the woman seethed.

“I’m sorry Captain Holt, I tried to stop her,” they could hear Gina say from outside the office.

Holt ignored Gina as he said, “Wuntch. Who let you out of your cage in Satan’s hell hole?” Ron and Harry were rather taken aback at the Captain’s changed demeanor.

“You did when you decided to prance into Manhattan and arrest a man in my area! Have you lost all common courtesy to call and ask permission before waltzing in and picking up an innocent Manhattanite?”

“He wasn’t innoc-” Harry said angrily, but Captain Holt held up a hand to stop him.

“He most certainly wasn’t innocent, Madeline, but we didn’t bring him in for his crimes. We brought him in for questioning and then let him go, if you must know,” Holt said those last four words in a manner which reminded both Harry and Ron of Snape. Each word was drawn out and dripped with conviction.

“I don’t believe you,” Wuntch said, getting a little too close into Captain Holt’s face.

“You don’t have to,” Holt said without backing down.

Kingsley broke the silent stare down when he reappeared in the portrait. He quickly realized there was another person in the office and froze, but it was too late. Madeline had seen him. “Wh-what was that?” she asked. Her stone cold demeanor breaking.

“Nothing, Wuntch, Satan’s probably playing tricks on your eyes,” Holt said.

“No, Raymond, that portrait was empty a second ago and now there’s a man in there,” Wuntch insisted.

Harry grabbed hold of his wand, and, blocked partially by Ron so Wuntch couldn’t see, held it up and cast obliviate. Instantly, Wuntch was none the wiser of what just happened. Once the haze had lifted, she shot Holt another look. “I’ll be watching you closely, Raymond.” With that, Madeline Wuntch turned swiftly on the spot and marched out of the room.

Holt walked over and shut the door after she’d left and looked back to Ron, Harry and Kingsley. “I’m sorry about that rude interruption,” he said.

“Who was that?” asked Harry.

“My arch-nemesis on the force. Satan’s spawn. Thank you for your help in, wiping her memory, is it?”

Harry nodded as Ron looked at Kingsley’s portrait. “Any news?”

“Yes, actually. I think we’ve found a motive on why Gerteso is after The Cryptic. My contact tells me that The Cryptic is the head of the Sanguinity’s New York division. Apparently, Gerteso attempted to appeal to Sanguinity leaders in Italy, claiming he was a vampire, but had no records to back it up. They dismissed him and his request to start the London division anew following the second wizarding war.”

“So he’s out to claim a division of his own...what’s ‘rightfully’ his,” Harry said.

“Exactly.”

“But why would he choose New York? Why not choose a smaller, less prevalent city? Say, Boston or San Francisco?” Holt pondered.

“Probably to flex. Prove he can take down one of the most powerful leaders within the Sanguinity,” Ron offered his suspicions. “But here’s the real question. Do we stop by just catching Gerteso? Or do we let him lead us to the Cryptic and try and break the New York division as well.”

“Our jurisdiction strictly lies in the capture of Gerteso,” Kingsley said firmly. “Though I do not think that the American Aurors would disregard any leads you may have for them in relation to The Cryptic.”

Harry and Ron nodded while Kingsley continued. “Now that we know roughly what Gerteso is after, it would be wise to station you closer to Gerteso’s targeted location. MACUSA has offered their penthouse suite as a new headquarters for your team. They are currently outfitting it with all of the necessary items you’ll need for surveillance and research, including history books on the mob and history of vampires for Charlotte. I suggest you go back to your current flat and pack up your things. You’ll be able to move locations in a couple hours. You’ll use the code 2598 to gain access into the building and the bellhop will check your identity before passing on your keys. If you need me, call Holt for correspondence.” Harry and Ron nodded, as Kinglsey left the frame.

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

The penthouse suite was surreal. Of course, it was magical in nature, so they were sure that it had been manipulated to fit their needs. They walked into a spacious living room and kitchen/dining area. The living space had plenty of seating and there were several computers set up around the edge of the room for research purposes, as well as a large bookshelf, filled with whatever they might need. There were two wings with bedrooms and bathrooms. Two bedrooms on either side, making four in total. Each room had two full beds with an adjoining bathroom in the middle to share. Charles was insistent that the girls take one side, and the boys take the other, probably to prevent Nolan and Charlotte’s ‘affair’ from continuing.

It was late evening and the seven members of the team had settled into their new headquarters. Everyone had decided to disperse for bed, in order to get a good night’s sleep before tackling all of the research. When the coast was clear, Hermione had snuck over to the boy’s room and cast muffliato on the door so no one could hear their conversation. They were discussing the potential plan of setting up a watch within the wand records office in MACUSA. Ron and Harry were in agreement that they should go into MACUSA to keep an eye on things.

“...But do you really trust that the 99 is going to let you and Harry team up on this?” Hermione asked Ron. “Maybe we need to tell them. We can’t have anything mess this up! He could make his move tomorrow for all we know.”

“You heard Kingsley, we can’t Hermione! Man, I love you, but it’s a good thing you didn’t become an Auror,” Ron said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Hermione gave him a look.

“Just that you’re not thinking the right way about this mission. We’ll figure it out tomorrow when we suggest the assignments. They haven’t gone against our ideas yet, so I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Ron tried to explain.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Well, hopefully you do team up with Harry because you’re starting to adopt some of Jake’s mannerisms. When have you ever said, ‘man?’”

“Like you haven’t taken up some of Amy’s hobbies?” Ron tilted his head towards the binders in the corner of the room.

“Yeah, okay, on that note, I’m going to bed,” Harry said. “You two can share this room.”

Harry got up and headed for the door. None of them had realized that they’d relaxed their glamour charms. It was a nightly routine they’d gotten into the habit of. What was worse, was that their scars were becoming visible again, and it had all gone unnoticed thus far. Harry opened the door and stepped out, only to stop dead in his tracks. Jake and Amy were on the couch, heads close together in what looked like it could have been a snog.

#hp fanfic #hp au #hp b99 crossover

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bush-viper-cutie · 4 years ago

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Love Me Roughly: House Hunting

Pairing: Snape x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,220

Rating: M for Mature

Plot: Severus meets up with the wizard in charge of finding him a place to live. He manages to strike up a deal and purchases his new home.

A/N: This is part 3 of 7 for the week 1 schedule for Snape Appreciation Month! @snapeloveposts

DISCLAIMER: I have edited (drawn over the original) the artwork (taken from a 80′s bodice ripper novel) for the purpose of this short series and will post more information about the original work here.

Posted: 6/3/20

Chapter List

<– Last Chapter Next Chapter –>

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

Severus left his motel room, locking the door and placing the key firmly in his pocket. He picked the dog up and walked out of the parking lot, turning a corner, and heading along the outer wall to the back. He figured the center was where he was standing and started walking into the forest, counting out seventeen steps before stopping.

The woods surrounded him shielded most of the sun and made the forest seem eerie. The little dog started squirming so he set it down on some fallen leaves, watching as he shook his fur out and ran as fast as his little legs could carry him to behind a large tree.

He heard rustling and then a very familiar witch walked out form behind, carrying the dog. She wore an open cloak with three buttons clumped at the top and a hood covering most of her hair, and yet, there was no mistaking who she was.

The woman from the airport walked closer and pulled her hood down, “I never would have guessed.”

“Not exactly a compliment,” Severus looked down at the dog, “Do you always make a habit of leaving your animals unattended?”

The woman laughed, “He makes sure our clients are here on time… and also that it isn’t a Ministry trap.”

He looked down at the dog in her arms, somehow doubting this particular one was very good at his job. He approached with caution and stuck out his arm, wanting to get a move on with house hunting. She took it and immediately apparated them out of the forest.

Severus heard a thump and opened his eyes, looking around at the wooden log walls and dark oak floorboards. They stood in the open kitchen of a small log cabin, a lounging area to the left and spiraling stairs directly behind them.

She set the dog down, “This is one of the simpler houses we have available to wizards here. During the winter, the snow mounds for miles and the trees offer much privacy.” She motioned to the stairs, “And the whole of it is so small that it’s easy to set up heating charms in every inch with ease.”

He walked behind the spiral stairs and opened the door to the laundry with a toilet and sink inside. He continued up the stairs to a corridor with three rooms. The first on the left looked to be the master bedroom with a large closet. The second was a smaller bedroom, A study perhaps, right across the way of the second bathroom.

He walked back downstairs and eyed the kitchen and connected room, finding it all surprisingly agreeable. “So, what is near?”

“Well, a short hike down is a corner store and your closest neighbor. A short hike up is a cliff,” she smiled.

He chuckled, these wizards really do know the business. He’d always heard of how well of a job they did, placing would-be convicts, escapees, and celebrities in the perfect homes for their situation. He suspected it had more to do with prior knowledge of the unsuspecting client, however. I always wondered where all the supposed diviners went. Even before the first wizarding war less and less were being found, though rumor had it they were being discovered for other, more appreciated, jobs.

“Well, I think you already know I approve of it.”

She dropped a folded paper on the low wooden dining table for him to take. He opened it and read out the price of the little log cabin.

“Really,” he sneered. “For maybe one twice the size of this one.”

She rolled her eyes, “You expect a well-built cabin, hidden from the noses of the Ministry, requiring no proof of wizard registration or mention of you on any documents for any less?” She laughed and picked up her dog, who had been lying peacefully next to the heater, and extended her elbow for him to take. “Why don’t we find you one worth the money you will have to pay, then?”

He scoffed, “Enough with the theatrics. Is there no discount?”

“Discount? For what? Looking cute?” she winked.

Severus swallowed and looked away quickly, raking his hair forward, “I’m sure the discount for that would be quite pitiful.”

The floorboards creaked under her shoes as she crept forward, “Oh, I’m not so sure about that. I’d give you ten percent off for your eyes alone.”

Severus turned to her, suddenly feeling the air very hot between them. Without thinking he opened his mouth, “And what else is… worthy… of a discount?”

She smiled and came closer still, “Hmm. Ten for those lips, and twenty for that incredible nose of yours.”

His hand went straight to cover his nose as her words replayed in his head, “Very funny.”

“It’s not a joke,” she stepped back glancing at the paper in his hands, “It’s my final offer.”

He looked at her confused, waiting for any clarification but none came.

He nodded, “Deal.”

She snapped her fingers and the numbers on the paper changed to a much more affordable price, “I’ll see you tomorrow then, for the money and to give you the keys.”

She apparated away and he was left alone in the house he would have to make his home now. He smiled to himself at their exchange. His heart wasn’t racing or thumping loudly, it was calm. He wasn’t ‘lusting’ after her like how his book described… but he did find guilty amusement in the fact she had indeed flirted with him. And he flirted back… something that, surprisingly, gave him enough joy to make him smile still, minutes after she had left.

His stomach growled and he remembered what time it was. He summoned his packed trunk and took out the food from it. He made himself a simple sandwich and placed the rest in the small fridge. He noticed the light did not turn on and figured there was no electricity yet.

He shrugged and charmed the fridge with a chilling spell and the freezer twice with the same one. That’ll do for now. He sat at the table and looked around at all the windows, watching the green trees sway with the wind and the occasional bird fly by.

He didn’t want to unpack just yet, not until everything was finalized, but there was one thing he could do. He took out his book from his muggle coat pocket and opened it back up, slouching over the table. He bit into his food and turned the page.

‘Robin turned from Stephano’s outstretched hand, not wanting to believe what his manly lips were saying. How could she believe a man that large, kind, muscly, handsome, and manly wanted such a small, dainty, soft, beautiful, girl like her?’

Severus rubbed his eyes and looked up, surprised to see the sun had set already and it was dark out. He locked the back door with a spell and walked over to the front door, doing the same. He dragged his luggage up the stairs and set it at the foot of the master bedroom’s large bed.

It was dark and he could barely see, cursing himself for not bringing candles. I had so many! Why didn’t I pack them? He imagined them al melted on the floor of his old home. I should have brought my scented ones at least. He fumbled for his night shirt in the dark and changed out of his clothes, unbuttoning everything slowly. He slid one arm in after the next and pulled the night shirt down. He took out his wand and cast Lumos to inspect the quality of the sheets.

They looked fine, recently cleaned even. He shrugged and set the wand down on the floor, hopping into bed and pulling the covers up. It was cold, but nothing compared to the dungeons during the winter. He turned and tried not to think of anything. Not tonight.

. . .

“Mmm, Stop it!” He lifted the hand that had fallen out of bed and was swinging low enough for the puny dog to lick. “Why must you do this? Hmm?”

He rubbed his eyes and looked out the window at the bright blue sky and large green trees. He wasn’t sure of the time, but knew that woman was already here, unleashing her dog onto him. He picked up his wand and cast Nox, extinguishing the light.

He pushed the dog out of the bedroom door and closed it, changing behind the bed and away from the window. He combed through his hair with his hands, wiping them on his coat, and made his way down the spiral stairs. She wasn’t in the kitchen so he turned his head and leaned forward, looking into the living room where she sat on the floor, reading –

“That’s not mine!”

She looked up, laughing, “Oh isn’t it?”

Severus ran into the room, stopping himself suddenly and composed himself. “Of course not… some-someone gave it to me and – ”

“So… it is yours, then.”

“No. It’s not, because I don’t want it. I was going to throw it away,” he coughed and looked away. There was a mirror hanging on the wall and he saw his face was a deep red. He turned his back to her and walked into the kitchen, arms folded.

Stupid! Absolute idiot! How could I leave it there? The cover alone has an image of a near naked woman in the arms of a shirtless man! …And it’s pink! He breathed out to calm himself, No matter. She will be gone forever in a few minutes.

She walked in behind him and set the book on the counter, giggling quietly, “It’s alright if you’re reading it. It seems interesting enough – and quite steamy.”

“No! No, I-I… Here is your money,” he extended his hand and summoned the bag of Galleons he had prepared for her.

She took it. “Well… Here is your key.”

He took the key without looking and put it in his pocket.

“Your water will start running soon… First month is free… after that you’ll need to pay us at the start.”

Severus nodded stiffly but the woman did not leave, “Yes?”

“About our conversation yesterday… I believe I called you cute and complimented your lips.”

He looked at her finally, and noticed she was biting her lip. He didn’t need to use Legilimence to know what she was thinking… and Merlin knows he was now thinking the same thing, though he didn’t believe he could pull it off in the least. He straightened and walked closer, excited to start the conversation up again.

“I do remember. I believe you also complimented my eyes,” he smiled.

“Who wouldn’t?” she stepped closer and touched the black cloth tucked under his shirt, “I love the patterns on your cravat.”

Severus watched her smooth actions, smiling. It had been a while since he had flirted with anyone, let alone had someone so willingly participate. The last time was surely before the Dark Lord’s return and as far as he remembered, it hadn’t gone so well, not on his part.

He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. He chuckled nervously, “Forgive me, I-I don’t really know how these things go…”

“Then perhaps you’ll allow me to lead?”

She came closer, forcing him to step back against the wood walls of the kitchen. He couldn’t help feeling so giddy, he wasn’t sure why. He supposed because for the first time he didn’t have to worry about anything else getting in the way of… whatever she allowed to happen.

He leaned his head down and brought his lips to her ear, “I would like that.”

He pulled back and he could see a new fire in her eyes and a mischievous twinkle too. He lowered his head only to have her immediately attack his lips with hers, tangling her hands in his hair. He wrapped his arms around her for a few intense seconds before pulling her away and leading her up the stairs – to his surprise she was following.

It was broad daylight but that hardly seemed to matter, not to him and by the looks of it, not to her. The second they reached his room they continued their intimate embrace, slowly inching closer to the bed. The second their legs touched the mattress they pulled apart and began to undress.

He undid button after button as fast as he could while watching her and the little show she was obviously putting on for him, making him blush. She got undressed and jumped on the bed, watching as he shed layer after layer. He left his wand in the kitchen or he would have used his unbuttoning spell already, but by the look on her face she was enjoying every second of it which made him want her even more.

“Are you sure?” his voice was deep and he could hear his own excitement in it.

She reached out and touched his skin, making it feel hot and electric where she stroked. She stood on the bed and pulled him in by his shoulders and kissed him again, humming and smiling. He touched her skin and felt it smooth and silky, warm, much like herself.

“Extremely,” she giggled.

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

Chapter List

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imaginesonurface · 4 years ago

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THE UNTOLD TALE | Chapter VII

Draco Malfoy Summary: brought back to Hogwarts, Sunrise must face the truth about her past while trying to find out the real reason they’re back. This is my first HP fic, it sets in a world the books were published to hide the whole truth about magic so it’s not chronologically correct, just go with it, please. Excuse my broken English. It’s quite a trip the whole thing and it takes a while before heating up. And if you have read my other stories, YES, I DO USE THE SAME NAME! A LOT.

Right after she finished telling the stories about their fifth year in Hogwarts, Sunrise turned her party mood on. Every time somebody tried to talk to her about something serious, she’d go and scream about the song they were listening to. It was easy to pretend when they were drunk. A few drinks later, they all decided to call it a night and go to sleep.

By that time, Blaise and Ingrid were pretty intimate. Holding hand and stopping every five seconds to hook up. Draco and Sunrise were trying to babysit them to their dorms.

“I guess my mother’s life’s dream has just came true: I’m a father” joked Malfoy.

“Does that make me a mother?” teased Hewitt.

“Chill out, we’ve only kissed when we were fifteen remember?”

“Ouch! Fair enough. In my defense, Ron was about to have a heart attack, didn’t want to add up to that”

“Why not?”

“Draco, they’re still my friends”

“Do they? I mean, I know you all gathered to fight Voldemort in the end but they pretty much didn’t try to see how you were when the whole Death Eaters parents thing happened”

“I know, but they were full of things to worry about”

“Including you literally sleeping with the enemy”

“We didn’t sleep together”

“You know what I mean”

“I do... it’s just... ugh, complicated”

“What’s complicated? Just kiss already” said Ingrid hugging Sunrise.

“Very funny. I wasn’t talking about me and Draco” answered Hewitt trying to hold the girl.

“Don’t be sad, Draco, I'm pretty sure she’ll come around” cheered Blaise.

“Blaise, she’s standing right here and there’s nothing to come around” answered Draco.

“Okay, sure, we’ll keep your secrets” they both said running inside their common room.

“I should help him... Bye, Hewitt”

“Bye, Malfoy”.

“Okay, so summer at the Malfoy Manor part two, please!” required Marta.

Hermione tried to signalize her to be quiet but wasn’t very effective.

“Uh, sure. So, my parents were locked down” she stared at Marta who made a very embarrassed face “and so were Draco’s dad. As you might figure, Voldemort is not- was not the forgiving kind. There were non-stopping meetings at the Manor and during one of them he decided that Draco and I had a mission”

“Uh-oh” said Lorena predicting what she was about to say.

“Uh, yeah, exactly what you’re thinking. Voldemort wasn’t that trusting that I was on their side and he wanted to revenge the failed mission, so... that’s the story about how I became a Death Eater” the girl rolled her sleeves up so they could see the Dark Mark’s scar.

Not even Marta could find words to say. Hermione, Harry and Ron couldn’t face the girl. And Draco Malfoy, seemed very bitter.

“So, that year, when I met Harry, Ron and Hermione at Malkin’s I stayed hidden behind the clothes. I knew they’d be not that shaken by the fact I’ve spent another summer at the Malfoy Manor, but as I thought about going out, I heard Harry facing Narcissa. He said something about asking her fellow Death Eaters to help her. I froze when I heard it. And right after he said something about getting a couple cellar in Azkaban. I know you never meant it like that, but I was so scared back then that my stupid brain only processed that” she added the last part to Harry. “I was hoping for them to leave before so they wouldn’t see me”.

“Yeah, about that... I actually did sort of on purpose the whole storm out” confessed Draco.

“Oh, I’m so surprised” faked Hewitt.

“Well, at least I saved you from going inside that Weasley shitshow” he added.

“Take it back” she said.

“No” he simply answered.

“Take. It. Back” she managed to say each word slowly and calmly

“Fine. I take it back” he didn’t actually give in but he knew that with Sunrise Hewitt it was either losing the battle or spending the whole night fighting.

“I’ll be the first to admit that I truly believed Sunrise was guilty of something. Her behavior and the fact she was with Malfoy all the time when I was already suspecting of him, I don’t know... I just kinda knew” said Harry.

“So, you’ll be the first to admit you were right? So noble, Potter!” teased Malfoy.

“Shut up, Malfoy”.

“Okay, I can’t hold it back anymore cause, you see, I’m now a Drunrise shipper-” started Marta.

“What’s a Dr- that thing?” asked Ron.

“A person that thinks Draco and Sunny should end up together” explained Ingrid.

“I’d like if you stopped treating this as a young adult novel, please. I’ve avoided this kind of thing for six years for a reason” asked Sunrise.

“Not gonna happen” Ingrid, Marta, Raul and Lorena said at the same time.

“I’ll just ignore you, then”.

“So... as soon as I got inside the train all I wanted was finding my friends and seating with them but something hit me: what if they hated my guts? Or even worse: what if they saw my Mark? So, I tagged along with him. Now when Harry tried to spy on us, which only confirmed my worst fears because it meant he didn’t trust me to spy for them don’t give me that look you know I’m right, I was there and I saw him”.

“Oh I remember that day, Draco travelled laying his head on my lap” added Pansy.

“I miss the days you didn’t show to those meetings and, you know, five minutes ago when you weren’t there” said Sunrise.

“Jealous much?” teased Parkinson sitting next to Malfoy.

“Of what? Please. Moving on with the story” she tried to go on.

“I remember you stood up for Ginny, it made me feel a little bit guilty of not trusting you” said Harry.

“Of course I did! Playing the spy didn’t mean I had to pretend not liking you. It was no secret we were friends” added Hewitt.

“She’d tell how you ignored her and didn’t trust her and made her sad. And also, she knew you expected the worst of her. Oh, guess your trust issues were right” interrupted Parkinson.

“So when we were all leaving I was relieved nobody found out about Harry. It was until I heard Draco telling Pansy to go on without him. So, I came back for him. I tried to make him leave but he wouldn’t and that was when he gave up and told me stay. After all: I was one of them. I knew I couldn’t go back without him seeing and it would give away my disguise so I made a writing spell and dropped it. Tonks found it. That year was very very complicated. Harry was obsessed about Draco and he was sort of suspicious of me. He didn’t trust me to spy on Draco and I barely talked to them that whole year. The only time I did had a conversation was Harry interrogating me to see if I was part of the whole Draco’s plan”.

“And I was right!” said Harry.

“Yes, you were but I did what Dumbledore told me to do. You see, Dumbledore knew it was going to be hard for me to turn my back against them and I was better playing this spy role, he knew Snape would look after me. What he didn’t know was that Voldemort would insist that I became a Death Eater. Snape was ignored when he advised Voldemort against it and the whole thing happened. During that year, I had a mission to step up to Draco’s mission if he didn’t go through. I tried to warn Dumbledore a million times but he told me it was alright and he had everything under control. It got to a point he stopped meeting me. Snape told me everything was going to be okay but it was consuming me. I was afraid for my family and for Dumbledore, Draco was pressuring me to help him because he was also scared”.

“I wasn’t scared” Malfoy defended himself.

“Yes, you were. And it’s okay. It was a task that not even Voldemort dared to do himself. So, my friends weren’t talking to me and I was under major pressure. The only person with whom I could talk was Draco. That year we grew pretty close”.

“Hmmmm, I see” said Marta.

“So I created this fantasy that when the time came he would switch sides. I mean, he was deliberately self-sabotaging every chance he had to kill Dumbledore. That night, I was with him and I know, despite what you may say, that if the Death Eaters didn’t enter the tower, you would’ve switch sides” she added to Malfoy ignoring Marta’s comment.

“I-” the boy tried to speak but suddenly stopped.

“You were there and you didn’t stop Snape from killing Dumbledore?” asked Raul.

“First of all, Snape was told to kill Dumbledore. Second, it got me by surprise. I tried to hold back my scream but I couldn’t. So, my disguise went down the drain. Snape suggested the Death Eater to take me to Voldemort so he could decide my fate. As we escaped and Harry followed us, Snape told me and Draco to run away. That was when I managed to escape and help the Order at Hogwarts”.

“And did they believe in you?” asked Lorena.

“Of course, they did! Harry was paranoid but the rest of the Order knew I was on their side” the girl defended herself.

“I mean, I wasn’t the only one suspicious. Hermione and Ron also didn’t believe you!” protested Harry.

“But if you were staying with the Malfoys during summer... where did you go that summer?” asked Ingrid.

“Uh, can we leave the rest for tomorrow? I’m tired and those are difficult thing to talk about, you know?” asked Sunrise.

“Sure... I’m sorry” apologized Marta.

The Slytherin girl gave a shy smile and stood up to get some drink, followed by Malfoy. Meanwhile the rest of the group began chatting about their classes and regular stuff.

“So... thank you for leaving our conversation out of it” thanked Malfoy.

“I- I just- It's not something I want them to know either” she said.

“Oh sure, you don’t want them to know you actually care about me, right?” said Draco making the space between their faces smaller.

“You wish” smirked Sunrise.

“Yeah, cause saying ‘You could come with us, you heard what Dumbledore said, our families will be protected. We will be protected. You know you don’t want to do this. Come with me. Please’ was completely platonic” mocked the boy.

“Not as much as remembering it word by word” answered the girl leaving him behind to joying the conversation about the next Quidditch game.

#draco malfoy imagines #draco malfoy fanfic #draco malfoy #tom felton #tom felton imagines #tom felton fanfics #harry potter #harry potter and the half-blood prince #hp6 #daniel radcliffe #emma watson #hermione granger #ron weasley #rupert grint #hogwarts #slytherin

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siriusmuch · 5 years ago

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happy birthday, james potter!

i swear i’ll write some more later, but happy birthday james. you, who inspired me to be brave and fight for my loved ones. you, who was the definition of never giving up. and you, who always chased your dreams.

here’s a bunch of headcanons n kinda angsty plot! pls enjoy ♡

- before lily started liking james, special occasions were the days that she tolerated him a lot more.

- and this applies to his birthday. the marauders make a big deal of everyone’s birthday in their group, so how could she not know it was his birthday?

- and so, every year, when it was james’ birthday, he learned to look forward to lily saying happy birthday. and despite her best efforts to not acknowledge it, lily’s heart fluttered when james’ eyes lit up.

- before hogwarts, james’ parents baked him a quidditch-themed cake every year. how could they not? james was obsessed.

- sometimes it’d be a cake with the field, others it would be a snitch, etc.

- during fifth year, though, things were different.

- every year, james would be surrounded by his friends. but what if The Prank happened before james’ birthday? (it fits in the time frame perfectly :3c)

- sirius was off to god knows where more than half the time. james noticed, of course he did. sirius didn’t spend much time in the great hall, in their dorm, etc, and he’d always bring the map with him. he knew sirius did something terrible, but he also knew that sirius felt extremely guilty.

- but he didn’t want to ask too much from anyone. because remus just had his trust broken, and sirius felt terrible, and peter was on remus’ side because it was remus who he was friends with first.

- so, during fifth year on his birthday, he didn’t want to mention anything. he woke up early and disappeared into the room of requirement that same day.

- it was lily who found him first, actually. james barely had any clue of how long he’d been in the room, but he’d been sleeping for most the day. the other half the time, he was doing work or reading about quidditch.

- “i had a suspicion you’d be here, potter.”

- james would never admit it, but he jumped. unknowingly to him, lily visited the room of requirement almost as much as he did. it was a good place to get away from her thoughts, and her visits increased tenfold as it neared the end of the school year. she didn’t want to go back home to petunia.

- “oh, hey evans,” james would try to be casual. it didn’t work on lily.

- the two sat down and talked. for lily, it was an eyeopener to james’ more sensitive personality. and i’m a sucker for remus and lily’s friendship, so lily knows of his furry little problem. and of what happened with the whomping willow.

- and for james, it was the first time he truly let himself be more vulnerable with her. he liked lily, and it was clear as day to anyone, and it hurt getting rejected, but he didn’t mind chasing (ha). he didn’t really know how to be himself around her, but he was learning.

- james tells lily how he saved snape. lily knew that james was a decent person, but it just reinforces it. it was at that point lily understood that even though james bullied snape, at the very end, he wouldn’t allow anyone to die.

- and james tells lily about how he didn’t want to bother his friends. he tells her about how sirius was purposely avoiding everyone because he knows that remus doesn’t want to talk to him. he tells her how he knows sirius feels terrible and that if he had a choice, he wouldn’t ever do it again. he tells her how he doesn’t want to force his friends to be together and talk to each other for his sake.

- most importantly, he tells her that even though he misses how the marauders were, how he knows everyone is traumatized from the event, he tells her how he was trying to be strong too.

- it continues opening things up for lily. this was james’ best friend and brother. sirius and james had an unbreakable bond, and everyone knew that. and sirius was like a phantom, barely to be seen, and remus was coping with his trust being broken. he knows everyone was struggling. but he was too.

- james has nightmares, sometimes. about not being able to save snape and remus having to be exiled. of not knowing about it. of hesitating for a split second. he hadn’t told any of the marauders that, but lily was... lily was lily. and james felt like time stopped when it came to her. he felt safe.

- and james confesses that he doesn’t want to talk about it either because he knows that peter and remus and sirius all have nightmares about it too. he can see it in the dark circles under their eyes. he can see it in the way sirius can’t look anyone in the eye. he can see it in the way remus couldn’t focus on anything he read, constantly rereading a page over and over. he could see it in the way where peter used to study, but lacked any motivation to do so anymore.

- he didn’t want to bother him.

- and lily’s heart clenches for him. because he was a boy that she painted to be so bright and arrogant. he carried himself with confidence and was a natural genius. but she sees him a bit more, now. james potter, someone who seemed so simple to understand before, was now a lot more complex.

- he was empathetic for his friends. he carried the brave face, a shit-eating grin, but he was observant about the tiny things. he was passionate and loved his friends more than anything, and was extremely loyal.

- and lily’s heart swells some more.

- “i think we all have problems right now, james.” lily starts, her hand bringing james’ face towards her. it was the first time she ever addresses him by his name. “i think everyone in the marauders misses what you guys had before. yes, what sirius did was... terrible, frankly, but he feels bad for it. and maybe you guys can’t solve your problems now, but you guys will. because your friend group is strong. but they miss you. sirius was at the great hall for breakfast and lunch today, and he was carrying around a bulk which i can only assume is a present. peter had some snacks, but he started eating them because he couldn’t find you and got anxious. (james snorted, and lily grinned.) remus was holding a quidditch book, i think, and one of those honeyduke chocolate bars that you guys always seem to buy out the entire stock of before i get there. they miss you. things are tense, but you guys are the marauders.”

- and james nods. he didn’t notice, but his head had leaned into lily’s touch. they were still in that position before lily ends up hugging him.

- james thinks about how small and warm she was against him. he thinks about the scent of her hair, the pretty flush on her cheeks, and the way he felt like he could spill everything to her.

- lily thinks about the toned body of james, not in a perverted way (maybe a little in a perverted way), but in a way where it was reassuring and steady and made her feel safe. she thinks about how he smelt like broom oil and a faint scent of cinnamon.

- after james’ birthday, their banter was more friendly. until the snape incident, where he called her a mudblood. james was defensive over lily, but lily didn’t want to talk to him.

- it was understandable. she just lost her childhood friend after realizing what people had been warning her about was right. and lily tried blaming james for a while, because it was his fault that he egged snape on, but she never had the heart to do so. because what best friend would call you a slur? what best friend wouldn’t stop hanging out with people who made them uncomfortable for good reason?

- come sixth year. by james’ birthday, lily and james were friends again. their banter returned to being playful, but they weren’t close. james had slowly ceased his flirting and pranking.

- lily couldn’t pinpoint the exact reason why he changed, but she was happy. she didn’t have to feel bad about rejecting him. the pranks that james did still pull were funny, but it never went to the extent like it used to.

- maybe it was the war upcoming. students in hogwarts, no matter their year, seemed a lot more solemn now than before. everyone was on edge, and for good reason.

- and come seventh year. at that point, their friendship was the complete opposite of first year. because now, lily knew she was head over heels for james fleamont potter. and james knew that he was in love with lily.

- that’s when he’d ceased the flirting almost completely. because he was in love with her, and he realized that rejection hurt a lot more than before. so he kept his feelings to himself, although anyone with eyes could see just how much he loved her.

- on this birthday, there was a party. well, there was a party often, especially during birthdays, but this party marked their turning point.

- firewhiskey, muggle alcohol (who dared to sneak that in? probably remus.), butterbeer. there were tons of illegal substances, but who was stopping them? not the head boy and girl, of course.

- by the end of the party, most people had passed out in the common room. james and lily had retreated to the boys bedrooms (james knew better than to try climbing the girls side again), and they were a little drunk. liquid courage, amirite?

- it was tense, actually. they’d been on the brink of confessing their love for each other for ages, except james didn’t know that lily felt the same way. but james felt tense too, because he was scared to confess his feelings impulsively and scare lily off.

- it was lily who initiated the first kiss. james was probably talking about the future, how when he was smaller, he’d always wanted to be a quidditch player, but now he was going to be an auror. and lily just took a fistful of his shirt and pulled him in to kiss him.

- because he was just talking so much with those kissable lips, and lily couldn’t contain herself.

- and james looked frazzled, but it was a good kind. he pulled lily back in and kissed her, and he cheekily whispered, “hey, it’s not midnight yet. we could have birthday sex.” because he was a fool who was just a tad bit drunk and he was in love with her and she just kissed him.

- lily smacked his head, obviously, but kissed him again.

- they announced that they were dating the next day (but they both heard a few whispers, because “weren’t they dating already?”)

- so, happy birthday to james potter.

#james potter #harry potter #lily evans #jily #james potter x lily evans #marauders #marauders era #journal of joyivos #happy birthday james potter #!!!#sirius black #remus lupin #peter pettigrew #severus snape

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dusk-realm · 5 years ago

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Chrysanthemum [Chapter 9: Misfortunes]

Tagging: @featurelengthfics @pan-lokistan @thedungeonsbat @severussnapesupporter @southsiderepresent

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Guys, remember to check the tags for trigger warnings.

A/N: some of you asked about this chapter, and here it is! I couldn’t sleep the other day, so I used the time to finish this up early for you, enjoy!

……………

‘No.’

‘It would give us some advantage.’

‘Don’t you ever have enough? You don’t need to involve her into this.’

‘There’s no better cure for the spirit than putting oneself to work.’

‘So you’re just going to use a child for your own gain?’

‘We must protect Harry, Severus. At all costs.’

‘And her? Who will protect her? Or is she nothing more than a pawn?’

‘Feeling useful will make her good, she’ll make friends in the way.’

‘You know nothing about her. She dislikes them all!’

‘Severus-’

‘No, don’t make me repeat myself. I won’t allow this.’

*SLAM*

(Y/N) dragged herself down the stairs to the dungeons. The torches that normally kept the corridors down there dimly lit seemed to be doing a very poor job that day, as she had to cast Lumos to navigate through the dark until she arrived at the Potions classroom door, at which she knocked softly.

‘Enter.’ A deep voice answered, and she opened the door. Professor Snape was busy filling up the jars of the classroom with unknown substances for her.

‘(Y/N), what are you doing here this late?’

‘How did you know it was me? You didn’t even look!’

‘Perhaps I can read minds, after all.’ He tempted with a sardonic smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

‘Oh, knock it off. Anyway, I just came here to see if you needed help before it’s curfew after all that… mess.’

‘Hm… well, you could put these away for a start.’ The professor requested, motioning at a wide variety of bottles, jars and containers of all sorts displayed on the floor around him.

‘Sure, it won’t take long.’

The student silently began her task, carrying as many containers as she could in her arms to the storage room inside the same classroom. Severus wasn’t fond of using spells anywhere near the potions or the ingredients, so she always had to do it the hard way. Well, it was still better than knock something off its place and end up making an absolute disaster.

‘And how was your day?’

The question caught (Y/N) by surprise, as Severus was not one to engage into small talk.

‘Eh… it was… fine, I suppose.’

‘Was it? I don’t recall seeing you during dinner.’ He finally pointed out.

So that’s what this was about. The student thought.

Well, the very first day of D.A.D.A had been disastrous. Apparently, Lockhart had been giving all the classes the same quiz about his ego his books, where (Y/N) had to play guessing just to scratch some points here and there. Rumour has it that Hermione Granger was the only one to get full marks,as expected. Some students had also been chatting about something having to do with Cornish pixies, but what had happened exactly to the Gryffindors wasn’t completely clear for the girl, and just casually asking Neville wasn’t an option right now; they hadn’t talked much since their small argument in the train.

‘Ah… yes, I went to the library after classes and I got into a book a little too much and missed dinner time.’

‘And what was it about that it enticed you so deeply?’

‘Forbidden substances and spells. It was some sort of a review on how they were discovered and then limited or just prohibited.’

Severus said nothing, but a soft humming sound indicated her that he was listening, so she went on:

‘It had a quotation from a book called Moste Potente Potions, but I looked for it and I think it must be in the Restricted Section or something.’

The title of the book made Severus’ eyebrows raise in disbelief and his eyes to lock on hers, not expecting the Slytherin to be reading such things.

‘What do you want from that book?’

‘Not much,’ she shrugged, ‘I just found it interesting and I wanted to read more of the chapter.’

As they spoke, (Y/N) finished putting away the containers that the potions master had already used. Severus watched her come and go and sat down on the stone floor with his legs crossed and his cape spread everywhere.

‘Come here,’ he called softly. (Y/N) beheld him with huge, shiny eyes, ‘what do you want to know?’ he asked in a hushed tone, as if it was absolute top secret.

(Y/N) practically dropped to the floor at the speed of light and sat on her knees:

‘So, I wanted to read about the Polyjuice potion because-’

A gentle shush scaping in between Severus’ teeth made her lower her voice even more.

‘because,’ she continued in barely a whisper, ‘it is very complicated to brew and I was wondering if it has any flexibility with the ingredients?’

‘Like for example?’ Snape encouraged.

‘Like, for example… It’s made with a hair of the person you want to transform into, right? But would it work with something else? Like the saliva, a piece of skin… or blood? Or would it ruin the mix?’

‘As you may know, that potion wasn’t exactly created for… legitimate purposes-’

‘Yeah, I know tha-’

‘Shut up.’ He reprehended. ‘However, what the potion requires is something from the person you want to transform in, hence, as long as you can keep the mix stable, anything can be used.’ Severus explained. (Y/N) opened her mouth to say something, but closed it again as she noticed that the professor hadn’t finished yet. ‘Another issue is,’ he carried on, slowly dragging his voice, ‘how willing you are to drink a potion made with spit.’

The pupil chuckled and continued to ask questions, which Severus answered as if he was telling the most exciting adventure tale.

A couple of weeks went by quite fast as school got tougher.

The Slytherin was doing just fine in her classes, except for Defense. Everyone seemed to be more than happy to attend Professor Lockhart’s speeches about his numerous, incredible experiences, while (Y/N)’s head hung low every time she had to cross that door.

Her agenda was torn between classes, homework and doing occasional tasks for the professors in exchange for House Points.

Poor old Flitwick was a bit too soft with students out of his own house, so (Y/N) tended to gravitate around the Charms classroom, where there always was something to do, and always a bunch of points waiting for the young Slytherin and a cupcake.

Mcgonagall and Sprout would also let her assist them in the afternoons, but they were a bit more a aware of the position of their own Houses in the competition to give out points as easily as the Ravenclaw Head.

On the other hand, Severus hardly ever awarded points, not even to his own House, so (Y/N) spent less and less time around the dungeons and more in the library, just minding her own business and staying away from Pansy Parkinson.

That girl had taken a liking to mock (Y/N)’s efforts to improve as a student, reminding her that whatever she did would not erase the past failures.

That she would always be the shame of Slytherin.

It was almost dinner time, and Madam Pince was already giving the student reproaching looks.

Well, she had been there for the whole afternoon, so maybe it was time to call it a day.

Plus, (Y/N) didn’t want to worry Severus. He had already confronted her a couple of weeks ago over her skipping meals, so maybe it’d be good to let herself be seen in the Dining Hall.

(Y/N) sat down in the middle of the table, where it was almost empty. The groups of friends were all bunched together near the ends of the table, like colonies of insects. The girl loaded her plate with fish and vegetables to please her grumbly stomach and began eating.

Or, she did so until she heard a screechy voice call her name.

‘(Y/N)~’ Parkinson sang.

Oh my god, here we go again.

The gang soon sat down surrounding the teenager, squeezing her in between them, not letting her escape or move in the slightest. (Y/N) did her best to ignore them.

How they had the guts to come and mess with someone older than them was still a mystery for the teenager.

‘You finally crawled out of your den to fetch some food?’ The other asked in a sickly sweet tone. Parkinson was sitting to (Y/N)’s right, and she surrounded her shoulders with her left arm.

‘Well, of course,’ the other answered in an unsarcastically soft tone, ‘it’s dinner time.’

The pug-faced girl let her go for the moment and finally minded her own plate. The girls ate in silence, except the some glances and giggles here and there.

‘Nuh-uh.’ Parkinson grabbed (Y/N)’s fork as she was going to eat a piece of broccoli.

‘What?’ She protested, trying to retrieve her fork by force.

‘Haven’t you eaten enough already? This is for students, you know?’

‘Fuck off, will you?’

Bulstrode, to (Y/N)’s left, harshly pinched and twisted the skin of the smaller girl’s ribcage, making her jump in her seat with an:

‘Agh!’

‘(Y/L/N),’ said Parkinson again in a deeper, lower voice, ‘you flunked Professor Lockhart’s quiz, didn’t you? Then-’ she finally snatched (Y/N)’s fork from her hand, and continued: ‘save the food for those that put their brains to good use. Go, see if the Hufflepuffs will have a troll eating with them.’

(Y/N) barely kept it together for long enough to stand up and get out of there. Her cheeks had turned a crimson red and tears threatened to start rolling down her heated face out of pure rage. The girl stood up and… fell down backwards with a squeak, and the whole school erupted in laughter.

Gathering the little dignity she had left, (Y/N) got up, dusted off her clothes and left the hall at a brisk pace.

The next morning, (Y/N) got up late on purpose just to skip breakfast. She couldn’t bear walking into the hall after what happened last night, everyone would laugh at her for sure.

Fucking Pansy…

Her left hand found the other in the mangle of white sheets. She looked at her knuckles from behind a mess of (H/C) hair, product of not having slept in the whole night. They were sore and still red from the beating her poor pillow received in the middle of a fit.

She got up when it was only 20 minutes left for the beginning of the first period. Thankfully, the dorm was already empty, and she had the bathroom for herself.

It was the last monday of September. They had Potions in their first Period, and they’d be brewing a Sleeping Draught. Lavender, valerian, standard ingredient and flobberworm mucus. Piece of cake, considering how half of the ingredients coincided with natural muggle remedies for sleeping. What a curious thing.

Neville was slowly crushing the lavender and the standard ingredient. He had automatically paired up with (Y/N), as always, but the girl thought that he was acting weird. He was unusually quiet, but (Y/N) was too tired to deal with that. There were still some giggles here and there, some fingers pointing, probably still too amused by last evening’s incident during dinner.

Professor Snape approached them from behind, quieting down the murmurs with his sole presence. Neville lowered his head so much that his chin touched his chest, feeling the professor’s breathing on his neck.

‘I don’t want to see chunks, Longbottom.’ He said before leaving to check on another pair of students.

Neville looked appalled at (Y/N), who was setting the cauldron.

‘What?’ She whispered. ‘You only have to go on until it’s like a cream.’

The rosy-cheeked boy nodded and continued.

Neville looked extra focused that day, maybe because the majority of the ingredients were plants? For once, (Y/N) thought it would be a good idea to leave him in charge, while she assisted him for a change. She was just so tired…

But oh, what a mistake it was trusting Neville Longbottom with a cauldron.

It all happened fast.

Everything had gone alright until the last step, when the potion had to be stirred seven times clockwise. But somehow, Longbottom managed to screw up and stir counter-clockwise.

The potion began bubbling and fuming abundantly:

‘CLOCKWISE NEVILLE,CLOCKWISE!!’ (Y/N) frantically exclaimed. The girl peeked above the cauldron in an attempt to fix the situation, but the fumes blasted and expanded- (Y/N) tried to get away from the cloud of fumes, but the strong mix of ingredients still had their effect; the girl quavered and tripped with someone else’s feet, falling down head first and hitting her forehead against the table.

The voices first were muffled and distorted, then they slowly faded away, as if she was listening underwater the sounds of the surface. Then, her eyesight weakened and clouded. (Y/N)’s consciousness finally drifted off to some other place, very far away from the Potions classroom.

#tw: bullying #pro-snape #fanfic #x reader #reader insert #fanfiction #hp #potterhead #snapedom #pro snape #snape community #severus #severus snape #severus snape x reader #severus x reader #prose #chrysanthemum

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alternislatronemhq · 4 years ago

Photo

Congrats, ELLIE, you have been accepted to AL for the role of SEVERUS SNAPE (FC: aneurin barnard). HOLY CRAPOLY, ELLIE! This app was absolutely fantastic! I couldn’t pull myself away from reading it and was just seriously BLOWN AWAY. This is everything I ever could have dreamed for in a portrayal for a character as central to the plot as Severus is! You truly have a gift and I’m so excited you’re here! Please send in your blog (no sideblogs for first characters, please) in the next 24 hours and be sure to take a look at our new player checklist. Welcome home (once again), we’re so excited to have you join the family!

OOC

name — ellie. age — 20+ pronouns — she/her. timezone — GMT. activity level — i’m not a very fast writer tbh, but i don’t have any other hobbies or rl obligations to keep me from rp atm so i should be able to maintain more than 3 paras a week.

IC Overview

name — severus tobias snape. faceclaim — aneurin barnard, louis garrel, richard harmon. age — 26. gender — cis male.

sexuality — demisexual, biromantic. He lacks the terminology for it, and simply regards sex as yet another social endeavor for which he is ill-equipped.

patronus — doe. yes, it still works. no, he doesn’t understand why or how. he is most certainly not pure of heart. the memory he calls on to summon the patronus is his first dinner with the evans family, where mrs. evans piled his plate high with steak and mashed potatoes and peas, and lily snuck her broccoli onto his plate discreetly while trying not to make a face, and petunia was spending the night at a friend’s house across the street and too far away to ruin the lighthearted atmosphere. they joked and laughed and cleaned the dishes afterwards. it was the first proper family dinner he’s had in his life.

boggart — voldemort. Not, specifically, for the man himself although he is a rather striking figure on his own – but rather for what the man represents to snape. Voldemort represents how far snape’s ambition and thirst for power and knowledge will take him if left unchecked. He represents a hungry and gaping and greedy part of snape that will take and take and take, and grow hungrier and greedier still, uncaring. Losing control in such a manner – allowing himself to be led astray by a mad man and his mad men, doing their bidding and spreading pain and grief and loss, thinking himself so righteous and vindicated – the worst parts of himself, unvarnished, laid bare for him to see. Snape has long since discarded any illusions of himself he may have entertained before the war. He knows the parts that make him up. He knows what he does and why he does it. He knows how far he will go without an anchor — and he fears being unmoored and unrestrained most of all. Fears what he will allow himself to do, without a pragmatic set of rules and ethics to keep him in line.

IC In Depth

personality traits —

+Loyal: snape’s loyalty is difficult to earn, but impossible to lose. He has a thorough, comprehensive, all-or-nothing approach towards loyalty. You either have it or you don’t. All of him or none of him. He will give you his soul – his strength, his work, his honour, his dignity, his life, his word – or he will give you nothing. Thus far, the only people who have earned his loyalty are lily evans and albus dumbledore.

+Sharp: snape is clever and perceptive, his intelligence owed in large due to the many hours spent in his mother’s company as a child, listening to her stories and her theories and her careful instruction. She was not a pleasant woman, nor a kind mother, but she taught him the power of knowledge at a young age, and the sharp glint of intelligence in his eyes matched hers.

+Hardworking: say what you will about snape’s character flaws – of which he has plenty, and of which there is quite a lot to say – but his work ethic has always been and will always be impeccable, beyond reproach. He never does things by half. He is a hard worker who spares no efforts once he sets his mind to a task.

-Antagonistic: he holds firm to an unpleasant disposition and hostile countenance. It is his nature to be wary and suspicious and to hold others in low esteem until proven wrong. Snape takes most attempts at social interaction with a grain of salt, expecting mockery and insolence and responding swiftly in kind.

-Bitter: snape’s biggest motivator is spite. He’s a man of well-groomed grudges, what can he say? growing up in poverty with a bitter mother and an unpleasant father, both of whom were uncreative in how they let out their frustrations and rather liberal in tossing about blame for everything that had gone wrong in their lives, had left him with quite an armful of ill-advised coping methods and a less than stellar personality overall.

-Selfish: it’s not that he’s incapable of love and affection. He is demonstrably and regrettably capable of both. He has, as well, displayed a certain capacity for selfless action when it came to his precious few loved ones. Sometimes. But, well. Well. It’s not his default. He spent many years with his head firmly stuck up his ass, seeing and caring about nothing but his own interests and his own ambitions and dreams finally being realized — and nearly lost the only thing in his rather pathetic life that held any meaning whatsoever. And he is still selfish by nature. Even in the years since he’d come to dumbledore to yet again pledge his allegiance to yet another all powerful and all conniving old wizard – the irony of which was not lost on him, not for a moment, rest assured – selflessness is still an installed feature that he must think consciously of before implementing. And, most of the time, it is not something he chooses to do.

-Deceptive: if snape was the sort to keep count of such things – and, as a spy, he most assuredly is – he would truthfully disclose that, in every relationship he’s built in his life since he was old enough for hogwarts, there is a layer of deception that must be adhered to at all times. An intermingling web of lies and half truths and omissions that must be observed with careful attention, lest the whole thing unravel and spill out his doom. He’s a spy. At least now it’s become part and parcel of who he is. At least, he now has a quasi-noble purpose to attach to the rather sticky threads of which he is – secretly – fond. He can admit, if only to himself, that he doesn’t know how to build a relationship without some form of deception to maintain throughout.

character biography —

PROLOGUE.

he stands on his tiptoes over the wooden chair, stirring with the ladle in both hands. clockwise, clockwise, counter-clockwise…. let the ladle rest against the side of the cauldron for thirty seconds. the liquid is two shades off. he adds a pinch of powder, and the color adjusts.

mam’s sharp eyes follow his every move. she nods, stiffly. tension uncoils from his shoulders. “when you get to hogwarts,” she says, brusque, “you’ll be at the top of your class.”

it’s not explicit praise, told more like a command, really, but it’s close enough. emboldened, he asks, “will i ‘ave friends at ‘ogwarts?” he looks up. watches. “lots and lots o’ friends?”

mam blinks. the silence stretches. she pats his head, drops her hand down to his shoulder. “of course, sev. lots and lots. now help me pack everything away before your dad comes home.”

ACT I.

can a place be both hell and home?

well, if it can be — if it’s possible to love and hate a place with equal intensity, if it’s possible to feel like a jigsaw puzzle slotting into place at last and still look over your shoulder and jump at every sound — if it is, then to severus, hogwarts was that place. the home that was unsafe, the home with danger at every corner, the home with no way out. no way out but through.

it’s not s’pposed to be like this, he’d thought, eleven and still a touch naive. this can’t be right. but what did he know about homes and safety, anyway? was Spinner’s End not the same, except smaller and with less magic? did he not look over his shoulder and watch his every step just the same?

being a halfblood matters, more than he thought it would. and being a slytherin matters, but not in the way he’d thought. a poor, dirty, halfblood slytherin with a nasty attitude and an uncouth accent stood out like a rotten stink. hogwarts was magical and whimsical, but it was just a place, just like any other, and the students were just students, and the bullies were just bullies. and sev was still sev, wand or no wand. hogwarts did not fix him and make him better. it did not give him friends on a silver platter.

what it gave him, instead, was knowledge. yes, he spent years the target of relentless bullying, made more enemies than friends and few acquaintances who were in between, but the library was his home. He devoured knowledge with a single-minded intensity, filled with such joy at learning new concepts and spells that it made everything else he had to put up with worth the effort. He badgered his teachers relentlessly with increasingly complex questions, and often times concerning lines of inquiry, and experimented with new spells and potions early on — first with lily, then without — filling notebooks with ideas and information and half formed thoughts. At the age of thirteen, he’d begun working on his own grimoire, writing down his own potions recipes and his modifications to existing potions. All the great potions masters have their own grimoires, why shouldn’t he start his own now?

He isn’t sure when his views began to shift. Somewhere along the way, the facade he’d put on for his housemates began to seep through the cracks and into the boy underneath. it became so much easier to hate muggles and then muggleborns, to blame them for everything that went wrong in his life, to use this hatred as an outlet for all his frustrations he already had with his own life.

By the time the dark lord called, severus was well and truly indoctrinated. It didn’t take much to convince himself that this was the right thing to do.

ACT II.

He takes the mark.

Things… escalate.

They ask him to do terrible things, and he does them fastidiously. He does not feel satisfaction or pleasure when killing and torturing, though he hardly lets that stop him from doing exactly as he’s instructed, to the letter, and sometimes beyond. Vying for the attention and approval of the man who held his soul in the palm of his hand, indifferent to it’s fate, careless in his handling unless the little halfblood proved himself useful. And he did. He proved himself clever, gifted, loyal, ruthless. He worked hard to earn his place, knowing the alternative.

It’s not like he doesn’t know he’s in a genocidal cult. At some point, even the most indoctrinated could see what this was. The dark lord wanted servants to do his bidding, not allies to share in the glory and the power. The dark lord was strikingly clever, imposing and powerful, and stark raving mad.

But severus was marked. He couldn’t put himself at risk, couldn’t think of stepping out of line with his master’s mark upon his arm. The only way out was through.

severus was thorough. he followed instructions to completion, with a single minded focus. he did his work with a professional detachment, a nonbeliever in the guise of a devotee.

And then, he came upon a prophecy.

ACT III.

The dark lord’s fall is a gift that severus doesn’t know what to do with. He’d spent so long treading a worn thread like a tightrope over the brink of hell itself, that the thought of letting his guard down for even a moment sends his every sense screaming DANGER! DANGER! DANGER!

He feels like a man who’s been running full pelt, nonstop, like he was running his whole life and suddenly the ground is pulled from beneath him and he’s free-falling into nothingness. Lily is safe. Unhappy, but alive, and for that he is more grateful than he could’ve ever imagined.

But he is alive, too. And for all his plots and schemes, it didn’t occur to him that he’d make it to the other end of this war in one piece. Not since he turned spy.

The question mark hangs over his head all the way through the chaos following the dark lord’s fall. Severus, sitting through trial after trial, feels as though his ears are stuffed full of cotton and his senses are veiled through with fog. Only in the aftermath of his own trial, when dumbledore rests a hand upon his shoulder and grants him a proud smile does severus begin to hope.

Dumbledore saves him. He gives him a home, a job, a purpose. He guides him through the darkest hour of his life.

Even through the fog, Severus can see it: the headmaster’s true intentions. He knows he must be of some use to the headmaster still, that dumbledore is simply working to gain his true loyalty. That all severus had really done on that stormy night was trade one master for another.

But dumbledore, for all his machinations, is still a good man. There are worse masters to grovel to, as he very well knows. And lily is safe, just as promised. It’s only right that severus pay back his due.

ACT IV.

Once he finds his footing, severus gets busy. He integrates himself with the remaining loyal death eaters as seamlessly as possible, works to maintain at least civil relationships with high ranking order members — with a few notable exceptions — and begins to, brick by brick, build his life from the ground up.

The following years are filled with quiet self reflection. Severus grows more critical of himself, of his actions, of his beliefs. He pulls apart his motives and his reasons for joining the dark lord, inspects his role in the war unsympathetically, the impact he’s had on the lives of others. He does not like what he sees. but he does not look away.

He’s created violent and dark spells for the dark lord during his service. Spells with no counter, or a secret one. Spells the death eaters all knew and used. If he had died in the war as he’d come to expect to, these spells would’ve been his only legacy. His only contribution to the wizarding world. unparalleled violence.

This is who he is. This is what he’s done. He cannot undo it, he cannot be forgiven. but he can strive to be… better. And he does.

beyond the waiting and watching and listening, severus shifts the bulk of his focus upon his work. He creates and tests potions with the needs of the wizarding community in mind, puts his brilliance to good use. He follows a strict code of ethics, to the letter, holds himself to task when it is not properly adhered to. He takes responsibility for the things he releases into the world. He builds himself a respectable reputation in his fields of study, his articles and discoveries published in peer-reviewed journals and papers, his work talked about in academic circles with something like respect.

As the whispers spread and the death eaters prepare for their next move, severus shifts to a ready stance. He has more to fight for — more to live for, now — than he had five years ago. He is ready.

plot ideas —

oh, god, i’m SO excited to explore what snape post-war would’ve been like if he didn’t lose lily. what happened in the books is that lily’s death and his role in it sent him down a spiral of self loathing, guilt, and suicide ideation – and he wallowed in his grief and his guilt for the rest of his life. the trajectory of his life after lily’s death shifted to protecting her son and serving dumbledore. he stopped thinking of his own ends and started viewing himself as a means to an end, that end being the physical safety of lily’s boy (disregarding, of course, the mental wellbeing of potter’s spawn) and while there was growth in his own views over the years i can’t help but think it was greatly stunted by his own grief.

what i want to explore with snape is growth. realistic, nonlinear, steady growth over the years after the war, where he becomes more critical of both himself, his motives, his thinking, and the impact of his actions on other people and the world. he grew up a precocious child with no proper adult guidance, and all his life lessons he’s learned through first hand experience. and like any other 17-year-old, he thought he knew everything. He was reckless and arrogant, and he made terrible choices confidently, with no regard to the greater consequences. post-war snape is painfully aware of his own shortcomings, is trying to be better, not for the sake of being a good person but for the sake of proper self discipline and self control. he never wants to lose control of himself and allow his ambitions and his greed to take him to such lengths again. he wants to have a more positive impact on the world around him, even if he himself is still an objectively bad person, even if he himself is still selfish and deceptive and eaten up by greed.

so how can a bad person be good? by doing good things, even if he’s doing it for the wrong reasons. and snape is doing it for the wrong reasons, he’s well aware of that. He doesn’t have the intuitive grasp of right and wrong that lily always had. He can’t simply do what feels right, as that never turned out to be the right thing at all. Instead, he does what he calculates as having the most positive impact on the biggest number of people, regardless of whether or not it feels right to him. He acts in the interests of the greater good.

It’s a very utilitarian approach. Not dissimilar to dumbledore, who took snape in after the war and was more or less his mentor figure the years following. but unlike dumbledore, snape does not disregard or dismiss the individual lives of people he comes across, is very mindful of his own personal impact in the individual lives of the people around him. in canon, snape is horrified at dumbledore’s plan for harry. dumbledore asks him how many men and women he’s watched die, and snape’s response to that is ‘lately, only those whom i could not save.’ this interaction perfectly encapsulates the differences in morality between the two men. snape is capable of making sacrifices for the greater good and strives to work towards ending the war, making moral compromises towards that end. but his faith in the greater good is limited. When it comes down to it, snape is loyal to people, not causes. And often, since he’s made the conscious decision to become a better person, risks his life for the sake of others.

Another thing i want to explore with snape is his interpersonal relationships. Because, god. Come onnnnnnnnn. His two best friends are lily evans and lucius malfoy. For fucks sake. Lily who cut ties with him when they were 16 and whose husband he is partially responsible for sending to an indefinite coma, yikes, and lucius, for whom he feels the most straightforward affection and who he’s actually quite prepared to stab in the back when the time comes. And it will come, soon enough.

He has….. Complicated relationships. And complicated views on intimacy. He has a tendency to separate his feelings from his duty, which sometimes leads to him doing terrible things to people he cares about. Lying, stealing, manipulating, etc etc etc. it does not mean, to him, that he cares about these people any less. Regrettably, he cares too much, and can’t stop caring once he starts. It does not mean the people he cares about are safe with him. And i want to explore that, especially in his relationships with lily and lucius, as well as his fellow death eaters.

Speaking of the death eaters. Snape was already a high ranking death eater before the dark lord fell, and he’d worked very hard the last five years to integrate himself irrevocably within the ranks of the remaining death eaters. He’d observed their dynamics and worked to make himself seem as loyal and irreplaceable as can be. No doubt he formed many a bond with many a member, not all of them built on lies. And he would take special interest in the hesitant, wavering loyalties, poking and prodding to see how he can use them to further his own position within the death eaters ranks. There’s a lot of potential for inner-politics and sabotage within the DE.

extra —

Mockblog @ sevsnpe.tumblr.com

headcanons:

Snape had a thick manchester accent growing up that was very quickly packed away and replaced with ‘respectable speech’ a few weeks into his stay in the snake pit. When he’s angry or emotional he speaks very slowly and deliberately, his voice dropping in octaves and growing very soft and precise. it becomes very difficult for him to keep control of his speech. He slips on occasion when he and lily are alone.

Eileen sold wonderful ailment-soothing ‘tea’ for her neighbours. severus helped her brew these concoctions regularly as a kid, when he was still too short to reach the tabletop without standing on a chair.

Snape looks up to dumbledore and seeks his approval. It infuriates him to no end, that so much of his own decision-making hinges on the older man’s opinion of him, that he cares what albus thinks of him at all. But after the dark lord’s fall, snape was lost and fumbling, trying to make sense of the world, of himself, of his next steps. He desperately wanted to be a better man, but had neither the tools nor the guidance to do so. if albus hadn’t taken him under his wing, he doesn’t know where he’d be now.

he’s a heavy smoker. he picked up smoking post-war and is not in any hurry to quit. he can stop whenever he wants to anyway.

he maintains a private library in his rooms at hogwarts. he’s as possessive of it and as territorial as a dog. he’s accumulated a very impressive collection of rare books and journals over the years, and a long list of contacts in the private book collectors and book sellers circles to go with. a disproportionate number of his books are highly illegal and officially labelled ‘dark’.

the bulk of his focus, after the war, is split between two things. integrating himself further into the remaining circle of death eaters, and his own personal research into the mind arts, potions, and dark magic, which he conducts in his capacity as potions master and professor at hogwarts. he’s made several discoveries in potions study and published multiple articles in academic journals over the last five years, building himself a respectable reputation and body of works within his field. beyond the fact that such academic pursuits are his passion, his work gives him tangible proof that he is capable of positive contributions to the world around him. that he is capable of doing good, even if he himself is a bad person. his work and his growing reputation gives him something to look forward to after the war. it’s something unrelated to the death eaters and to lily, it’s something completely his own. he is very defensive and protective of his research.

Once or twice a month, snape visits muggle london and spends a few hours in a public library. It’s calming, reading books to simply pass the time. He won’t admit this to anyone, but the connection he has to the muggle world is something he’s learned to accept and even take comfort in from time to time.

#al:accepted #severus snape #harry potter rp #hp rp #marauders era rp

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