tnott

[tnott]

Home from surgery! In some pain, but it's bearable now that the doctor has given me some heavy-duty painkillers. Just woke up from a nap, and now I'm having my first non-liquid food in 36 hours.

Working till 9pm tonight, waking up at 4:30am for surgery tomorrow. Fun times.

[tnott]

Working till 9pm tonight, waking up at 4:30am for surgery tomorrow. Fun times.

[tnott]

Let me tell you a story.

Once upon a time, as the Muggles like to say, there was a little girl. This little girl had grown up hearing stories about a place called Hogwarts, a beacon of learning and magic, a place where she would meet other witches and wizards and discover the full extent of her talents.

In due course, she boarded a train that took her away from her home and to this magical school. It wasn’t quite as amazing as she’d imagined, but it was still wonderful. She made friends her own age and learned all manner of fascinating things, and while there were some students who grew awfully rude when they saw the color of her tie, for the most part she had no quarrels with her classmates.

The end of the year arrived, bringing with it the Leaving Feast, where her House would celebrate the fact that they had won the House Cup. This wasn’t like winning the Quidditch Cup. It was better, because the little girl had played a part in it. Yes, she was only a First Year, but she had studied and worked hard and behaved herself, and some of the emeralds in that hourglass were there because of her.

But just as she and her housemates were beginning to celebrate, the Headmaster stood up and made an announcement. Despite the fact that the school year was over, he was going to award some additional points. These points were given to four other First Years - all of whom, curiously enough, were in the Headmaster’s own former House. And were those points awarded for good behaviour or academic performance? No. They were awarded because those students had smashed the school rules to bits over some ludicrous story about Dark Wizards and a chess game.

The Headmaster gave those four students just enough points to bring their House up past hers. He declared that House to be the new winner, and the entire rest of the school began to celebrate.

The entire rest of the school.

Were the other two Houses celebrating that House’s victory? No, not really. They were celebrating the fact that the little girl’s House had lost.

How do you think she felt?

Let me summarize it for you: this little girl and her Housemates won the Cup, only to have it given by the Headmaster to his own former House after the term was over by awarding points to some other students for breaking the rules. And the entire rest of the school found this to be an event worth celebrating.

“Well,” thought the little girl, “this deck is obviously stacked. And my classmates all hate my whole House for no good reason.” She pondered this fact and decided, “You know what? They can go to hell.”

Can you fault her for thinking that? Can you truly call her reaction unreasonable?

And now those other three Houses complain that the little girl’s House is insular, unfriendly, elitist, even evil. But they never consider why things are that way. They never ask themselves, “What reasons do those students have to be our friends? What have we ever done to make our friendship seem worthwhile?”

No, they never ask that. It’s so much easier to blame the little girl’s House than to admit their own mistakes.

Hogwarts is divided. I don’t deny it. But if you lions, badgers, and eagles want to truly understand why, you can’t look only at the snakes. You need to look at yourselves, too.

[tnott]

Theo sees very little point in antagonizing people who have never done anything to her. So she’ll give you back that quill you left behind. She’ll let you borrow her notes. She’ll tell you when you have toilet paper stuck to the bottom of your shoe. Not because she’s a “nice person,” but because why make enemies where you don’t have to?

[tnott]

[tnott]

"Oh, sod off," Theo muttered, turning her face away and wiping her eyes on the sleeve of her jumper rather than taking the offered handkerchief. "I didn't ask for your help. And whatever grudge you're holding against the rest of the school, I don't see why it should have anything to do with me. I've never done anything to you."

That was true, or at least it was from Theo's perspective. She'd never believed in making unnecessary enemies, so from her very first night in the castle she'd been careful to remain scrupulously cordial with all her housemates -- even the odd ones, like eleven-year-old Yennefer had been with her Muggle father and humped back, and the ones she didn't even like, like Vincent Crabbe, who'd proven himself to be a total knobhead on the day Theo had first met him and showed no signs of outgrowing that affliction anytime soon. If anything, Vincent was worse than ever this year. But that was neither here nor there.

True, Theo and Yennefer had never been friends, but Theo had never antagonized the other girl, either, nor had she joined in when her classmates had entertained themselves by bullying Yennefer for her looks and her parentage. What would be the point? She had better things to do, like homework, and revising for exams, and reading whatever book had piqued her interest on a given day. As far as Theo was concerned, being a bully was a waste of both time and effort that could be better spent doing something useful.

It was rude, too, of course, but that had always been a mere secondary concern.

At any rate, there was no reason for Yennefer to be standing here gloating, or whatever it was that she was doing. Frankly, Theo wasn't even really sure why Yennefer was still here, and her condescending words and disdainfully offered handkerchief had only made Theo feel worse. She hated crying in front of other people as it was, and she hadn't expected anyone to come along when she'd chosen this spot for her homework. For all that Yennefer might insist that they were in a 'public space', Theo's experience had been that this particular little nook was rarely disturbed. In fact, today was the first time in the past five years that anyone had come across Theo while she was studying there.

Of course it would happen on the one day that Theo was crying, and of course the person in question would be someone like Yennefer rather than one of Theo's friends. If it had been Pansy or Millie or even Greg Goyle standing in front of Theo right now, she would have felt a lot better, and substantially less vulnerable. And there weren't many things in this world that Theo hated more than feeling vulnerable.

"Why are you still here?" she asked, when Yennefer had made no move to leave. "Are you enjoying this? Is watching me cry entertaining to you?"

She was aiming for a hard, cold tone, but the words came out sounding more brittle than anything else, and still slightly nasal from the congestion caused by Theo's brief moment of tears. It was plain that she would have directed the same ire at anyone who had happened to walk by at this particular moment, and Yennefer's particular identity didn't actually have much bearing on things.

In other words, it wasn't personal.

Yennefer had not been looking for Theodora. She had no interest in comforting the other girl--nor knowledge that she needed comforting to begin with. She was not ignorant of the situation, of course. She knew what her classmate was going through. Her father had been arrested and the whole school was abuzz with the news: Nott and all the other arrested Death Eaters the Potter boy had helped Dumbledore to catch last year. It was all a great scandal, and Yennefer--overly observant in class, as she had always been (it was the only way to survive) and sharing a room with the girl--couldn't help but notice the way she kept her head down now, the way people whispered behind her back--and often right in front of her face.

Theo's problems, however, were not Yennefer's. She had her own life to worry about.

It was not so long ago that Yennefer herself had been the outcast of this school. Even now with her status changed, with fellow students and professors alike treating her cordially enough, Yennefer despised the whole lot of them. She had not forgotten those early years when she had first arrived at Hogwarts; the only (known) half-blood in the Slytherin House, she had been a pariah, a laughing stock. She could recall with bitter detail the nights she'd had to open the common room door with passwords like 'pureblood,' a vivid reminder that she did not belong amongst them. It had not helped that she had looked different from the other students with her hunched back and crooked spine.

Yennefer had, of course, done everything in her power to put that life behind her, had dedicated countless hours to inventing her own beautification spells when those she found in the library proved too weak to get the job done. The young woman that stood before Theodore now could not have been more different than the strange, nervous eleven-year-old she'd once been. Now, her hair--sleek and black--lay in perfect waves over her straightened shoulders, and her posture was not only fixed but perfectly aligned, making her look taller than she really was.

Damn it, she thought. She hadn't meant to walk in on this scene. She had no desire whatsoever to be a voyeur to--well, to whatever this was. Other people's tears made her uncomfortable on principle, and she was by far the last person on the planet that anyone should come to for any sort of emotional reassurance or advice. But it was too late now to pretend she hadn't seen the girl crying.

"I want many things," Yennefer replied in the same cool, indifferent voice she always used--a voice that gave nothing away, no hint to her inner feelings. "To see half our professors eaten by the giant squid. To steal the ministry out from under Scrimgeour. To punish everyone who has ever wronged me. None of which I can get from you, certainly. Have I ever given the impression that I care about what you do? But this is a public space, Darling. It was foolish to have a private moment out in the open. It was inevitable someone would walk by eventually. Here--" With a heavy sigh, Yennefer conjured a handkerchief and handed it to Theo. "Carry on. Get it out of your system. Once it starts like this, you have to finish or the crying will eat you from the inside out. So cry your eyes out and get it over with. I shall keep watch. Then wipe your face before someone who does care what you do comes along."

[tnott]

Your Muse's Inventory!

Inventory: In a roleplaying game, inventory refers to the collection of items your character is currently carrying

Rules: List the things your muse carries in their pockets or bags in their everyday life. Repost, don’t reblog! Optional: Explain their significance.

Doing this for Theo's book bag during her Hogwarts years:

A sufficient number parchment rolls for the day's classes, five quills, and ink in two different colors (black and green).

The necessary textbooks and supplemental readings for the day's classes.

Dragon-hide gloves, if necessary for the day's classes.

A small pot of burn cream, in case of Potions class accidents.

A small journal that also functions as a sketchbook. It's enchanted to spit ink if anyone besides Theo tries to open it.

A hairbrush with three hair ties looped around the handle.

Lip balm (vanilla).

A small sewing kit.

A little pouch of owl treats (for her owl).

A separate little pouch of mixed dried fruit and nuts (for Theo).

Her emergency chocolate stash, which generally takes the form of a few chocolate frogs, but sometimes is a bar from Honeydukes, particularly if there's been a recent Hogsmeade weekend.

Tagging: @bokketo (Hermione and/or Snape and/or Harry), @burnnouts (Sirius and/or Hogwarts!Yennefer), @grimmusings (Hermione/@xbrightestwitch), @corda-comminuta (Cho and/or Pansy), and anyone else who wants to do it!

[tnott]

Theo's Wand

10 and 3/4 inches, springy, cedar and phoenix feather

Cedar:

"Whenever I meet one who carries a cedar wand, I find strength of character and unusual loyalty. My father, Gervaise Ollivander, used always to say, ‘you will never fool the cedar carrier,’ and I agree: the cedar wand finds its perfect home where there is perspicacity and perception. I would go further than my father, however, in saying that I have never yet met the owner of a cedar wand whom I would care to cross, especially if harm is done to those of whom they are fond. The witch or wizard who is well-matched with cedar carries the potential to be a frightening adversary, which often comes as a shock to those who have thoughtlessly challenged them."

Phoenix feather:

"This is the rarest core type. Phoenix feathers are capable of the greatest range of magic, though they may take longer than either unicorn or dragon cores to reveal this. They show the most initiative, sometimes acting of their own accord, a quality that many witches and wizards dislike. Phoenix feather wands are always the pickiest when it comes to potential owners, for the creature from which they are taken is one of the most independent and detached in the world. These wands are the hardest to tame and to personalise, and their allegiance is usually hard won."

[tnott]

👫 + hermione?

@bokketo || send 👫 for 4 headcanons about our muses || accepting

During their 5th Year at Hogwarts, there are times when Theo wishes that she could go back to disliking Hermione -- not because of anything Hermione has done, but because they're on different sides of the war and that's unlikely to change, and because Theo knows her father wouldn't approve of her spending time with a Muggleborn. But the thing is, she can't help that she's grown to like Hermione and enjoy their little rivalry/budding friendship, so she's left feeling very conflicted. This is compounded by the fact that Theo thinks her father would actually really like Hermione if they ever met, as long as he never found out she was Muggleborn.

It's a tough thing to do, outgrowing the biased and bigoted beliefs Theo has been steeped in since birth, and she struggles with it. But as an adult, looking back, she does feel that she should credit Hermione and the tentative friendship she offered for being one of the reasons Theo ended up shedding her father's blood-supremacist philosophy.

On a lighter note, I really like the idea that Hermione and Theo might have not just an academic rivalry, but also a little informal competition centering on who can complete the Daily Prophet's crossword puzzle the most quickly. Theo is probably at a slight advantage in this endeavor, because she grew up in the Wizarding world and thus is more familiar with Wizarding culture, but I would imagine Hermione is catching up quickly!

Theo definitely tries to reconnect with Hermione during their Eighth Year at Hogwarts and beyond, because she really was coming to enjoy Hermione's company quite a lot until the war got in the way. She'd like to put the war behind them and look to the future instead, and she thinks the future will be better if she and Hermione can be friends again.

[tnott]

👫 + snape?

@bokketo || send 👫 for 4 headcanons about our muses || accepting

Theo would have mourned Professor Snape whether he'd betrayed Voldemort or not. The revelation that he'd been secretly working for Dumbledore for decades didn't really have much impact on the grief she felt after his death. Spy or not, he was her mentor while she was a student, he encouraged her intellectual curiosity, and she certainly perceived him as being the only adult at Hogwarts who actually gave a damn about Slytherin students in general and her own well being in particular. Theo will readily acknowledge that she is sometimes selfish, and to her, the facts that matter in this case are that she struggled both socially and emotionally during her years at Hogwarts, and Professor Snape was the only staff member who ever tried to help her.

I mentioned above that Professor Snape encouraged her intellectual curiosity, and I really can't stress enough how much Theo appreciates that fact. Between writing permission slips for her to use the Restricted Section, lending her books from his own personal collection, suggesting new texts for her to read, and answering her additional questions either after class or during his office hours, Theo learned more from Professor Snape than she did from any other teacher. When she compares him to someone like Binns or Lockhart, the difference in the quality of their instruction and support is staggering. And while Slughorn, for example, was a perfectly competent potioneer, his favoritism and selective blindness meant that Theo holds him in rather low regard. When Theo becomes a professor herself, she tries to provide for her own students the level of education and encouragement that Professor Snape provided her.

I'm very much looking forward to developing our Snape Lives! AU further, because honestly? Theo wants to keep in touch. He was her favorite teacher. Academically, he was a strong influence on her, and he had an unorthodox enough approach to potions that she thinks he's unlikely to sneer at her magiarchaeology ambitions the way so many members of the older generations do. As a former student, she wants to make him proud.

All of this having been said, however, and while she does hold Professor Snape in very high regard, she also thinks that Potter choosing to saddle his younger son with the name Albus Severus was perhaps not the most well thought-out decision. Theo certainly thinks Professor Snape deserves to be commemorated and remembered, but in her opinion something like a posthumous Order of Merlin, First Class, and a notable place in the history books would be a more appropriate way to do it.

[tnott]

Send a 👫and I’ll write four headcanons I have about our muse’s relationship

[tnott]

Theodora Nott → academics

[tnott]

ever since I was a little girl I knew I wanted to know everything

[tnott]

@burnnouts (Hogwarts Yennefer)

Theo was settled on the grass where two wings of the castle butted up against one another, resting her back against the stone of the school walls. It was a quiet little nook, sheltered from the wind and out of sight, and she often went there when she didn’t want to be found.

Right now, she didn’t want to be found.

She had run through the same Arithmancy problem four times, each time failing to reach a solution that made sense, and was now sitting hunched over her book with her hands pressed against her eyes, trying in vain to keep back the tears prickling beneath her eyelids.

It was no good. She couldn’t solve it, wasn’t smart enough — what had she been thinking, signing up for the NEWT class? She couldn’t ask Vector for help, either. The woman wouldn’t even look her in the eye during class these days, let alone answer her questions.

She gave up, letting her tears fall freely. There was no one around to see, and she’d learned at a young age how to cry in silence; her father had never understood that some tears needed to be shed alone.

What she wouldn’t give for him to be here now, though. She could hear his voice in her head, reminding her to Think it through, my girl. First you carry the eight, and then—

Footsteps.

Her head snapped up, gaze locking onto the person standing before her. She wiped at the tears with her sleeve before glaring up through reddened eyes. “What do you want?” she snapped.

[tnott]

Hermione’s comment caught Theo off-guard, and she looked up from her book, careful to hide her surprise. While she and Hermione had been sharing a dormitory for nearly two months now, they'd rarely done more than exchange pleasantries or discuss their professors' assignments. For Hermione to extend the sort of invitation she'd just extended was, in all honestly, rather unexpected.

It was true that Theo had never taunted Hermione, or mocked her, or tried to jinx her, or participated in any of the thousand other little cruelties that some of her classmates had inflicted on the girl. She’d resented Granger, yes, but she’d never bullied her. That had been the province of Draco and Pansy and their respective gangs – not Theo, who had always kept herself to herself, focusing on her schoolwork rather than the mercurial intricacies of adolescent relationships. But she’d never stopped anyone from bullying Granger, either. They’d never exactly been friends, even if they had learned to cooperate with each other as they’d gotten older.

“All right,” she said after a moment, marking her place and then returning her book to her bedside table. It wasn't yet cold enough for a scarf or gloves, but she did don her cloak and a woolen hat.

As they made their way out of the room, she said, “Blaise told me yesterday that he's starting to think that we might have a normal year this year, and I realized, I don’t think we’ve ever had a normal year.” Ticking the individual years off on her fingers, she said, “In our first year, we had a teacher who quite literally had the Dark Lord sticking out of the back of his head. In second year, the Chamber of Secrets was opened. In third year, we had an escaped convict running about on the grounds. Fourth year was the Triwizard Tournament, and we all know how that ended. In fifth year we had that hag Umbridge trying to take over the school. In sixth year, actual Death Eaters broke into the school and our headmaster was murdered. You spent seventh year on the run and the rest of us spent it at the mercy of the Carrows. In the context of all that, I’m not even sure what a ‘normal’ year would entail.”

For her part, Theo had arrived at Hogwarts on September 1st expecting that the year would be, above all, awkward; both on a broader scale, with all of the missing faces, and on a more personal scale. After all, her father was a Death Eater. He’d attacked the school, attacked their classmates – for all she knew, he might have killed some of their classmates. She hadn’t asked, deciding that she’d really rather not know. He was in Azkaban now, and would be for the rest of his life, but Theo had doubted that that alone would be enough to assuage anyone’s pain. She'd suspected that some of her classmates might even try to take their anger and grief out on her. That was why she’d cast Shield Charms on every piece of clothing that she’d packed, from her uniform to her pajamas.

Fortunately, however, so far she'd experienced less than half a dozen incidents of people trying to hex her in the corridors, and she, like Blaise, was beginning to believe that their final year of education would be less eventful than she'd anticipated.

It was never a question that Hermione would return to Hogwarts for her seventh year. While many careers were willing to give Hogwarts students a pass on their N.E.W.T.s, given the circumstances, she valued knowledge too highly to let herself slide like that. Hogwarts was a much-needed return to normalcy, the site of most of the happiest memories of her life, and she thought perhaps that walking through its doors would always feel like coming home.

That wasn't to say that nothing had changed. Though most of the damage to the building itself had been repaired, the evidence of the battle was all over the castle in smaller ways: a missing portrait or suit of armor, a gleaming new bridge where the old one had collapsed, the weary smiles of people still mourning losses or trying to move on.

It was utterly strange not to be staying in Gryffindor Tower anymore, but Hermione had been quick to agree to different living arrangements. She wasn't altogether sure she wanted to return there without the girls from her dormitory, without Harry or Ron. Better just to accept that things had changed and make the best of it. Though they'd never been friends, she'd always admired Theo's cleverness--and competed against it, of course.

She didn't think any of the old rivalries still stood. There was no point in trying to out-do each other now, and Hermione had stopped drawing attention to herself in class, keeping her head down and focusing on her work. She wanted to absorb as much as she could before she had to leave, and she spent most of her evenings buried in books or working on her translation of Dumbledore's stories. As for Slytherin versus Gryffindor… well, she felt privately that Slytherin had suffered enough. Holding on to old grudges was just going to lead to the same sort of discord that Voldemort had preyed upon in the first place.

It was a surprisingly nice day, probably one of the last they would have before the weather turned bitterly cold, and a Hogsmeade weekend besides. She was pulling on a cloak and debating whether or not to leave the scarf, finally deciding it was too warm. "Are you… erm-- would you like to go down to the village?" Though they spent much of their free time in the same room, they weren't friends, or at least not that sort of friends. But Hermione thought perhaps they could be, in time.

[tnott]

Albuquerque Journal, New Mexico, December 27, 1929

[tnott]