fatecanberewritten-writer

[fatecanberewritten-writer]

Circulus Viciosus | Chapter One: An Act of Love

Stars Series | Circulus Viciosus

It was a slow Tuesday morning in Diagon Alley, the April rain clouds creating a soft grey hue that fell over the shops and streets. The filtered light streamed through the east-facing windows, the painted words of ‘Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour’ casting a shadow against the shop floor, perfectly legible if one could read backwards. And she could.

The young girl sat atop the counter, one leg curled beneath her, the other swinging rhythmically off the edge, her untied laces dancing with the movement. Her jaw was in constant movement, working away at a piece of chewing gum, but her soft brown eyes were keenly focused on the book in her hands, a book that she was nearly at the end of.

The soft sound of a broom sweeping the floors accompanied her chewing and page flipping, but the shop was quiet aside from that. As the enchanted broom, sweeping entirely on its own, moved closer to her, the girl did little more than lift her foot out of its path and continue reading. Two pages to go.

A door in the back of the shop opened and footsteps could be heard approaching, but still the girl did not turn away from the book in her hands. A man stepped out from the back room, stopping at the sight of the girl, a smile working its way onto his chapped lips. Everyday, the girl was looking more and more like her mother, and now, it seemed, she was acting like her. “Alice,” the man called.

The girl’s small index finger shot up towards her father almost as quickly as the words “One second, please!” escaped her lips, all the while, her eyes moved rapidly from side to side, drinking in the last words of her book. This only caused the smile on her father’s face to broaden. As she finished the last sentence of the last chapter, Alice took a deep breath, snapped the book shut, and turned to her father with a smile as bright as his. “Hi Dad,” she grinned.

Her father chuckled. “Was the story just as good the second time around?”

“Third time, actually,” Alice quipped, hopping down from the counter and tucking Enchanted Encounters: Book Two under her arm. “Fifi LaFolle just announced that she’ll be releasing the third one by the end of the month.”

“I heard,” her father started with a knowing grin, “that she’ll be doing a book signing right next door.”

Alice ceased her gum chewing for a moment as she gaped, wide-eyed, at her father. “At Farnsworth’s?” she exclaimed in a high pitched voice. “She won’t be doing it at Flourish and Blotts? Farnsworth’s is just a second-hand bookshop - why’s she doing it there? Not that I’m complaining, of course!”

Her father chuckled again. “Apparently she’s friends with the new owner.”

Once again, Alice’s jaw dropped. “Mrs. Thrasher is friends with Fifi LaFolle?”

“Kind of makes you regret not taking my suggestion of helping her set up shop last month, doesn’t it?” her father smirked, and Alice grew red with embarrassment.

“If I’d’ve known - ”

“That’s not why we do kind things, Alice, and you know it,” her father cut in, waving his wand toward the enchanted broom, which ceased its sweeping.

Alice sighed, her shoulders drooping. “You’re right,” she conceded, her chin falling to her chest with a pout.

“But,” her father continued, lifting her chin with his ever-cold fingertips, “Mrs. Thrasher does not seem the type to hold that against a young girl. She’s a kind woman.”

The young girl’s pink lips curved into a soft smile at her father’s reassurance. “I think you’re right about that. She actually gave me this gum while I was watering the plants this morning,” Alice told her father, pulling the Drooble’s Best Blowing Gum wrapper from her cardigan pocket. The sight of it gave her father a plethora of ideas, but that was far from something new for Florean Fortescue, a widely known jack of all trades. Two ideas stuck in his mind, and while one struck him like a dagger to the heart, he chose to voice the other to his daughter.

“You should offer to water her plants, too, darling,” he suggested, stepping around her to grab the broom and put it away. “You’ve always had such a green thumb - and I’m sure she’d appreciate it. Might even get some more chewing gum out of it.”

“I could do that,” Alice agreed with a gentle nod of her head. The girl loved to be outside anyway, and she’d much rather prefer that to her chores of cleaning out old ice cream bins. 

Her chewing gum beginning to lose its flavor, Alice unraveled the old chewing wrapping and brought it to her lips, rolling the gum to the front of her mouth. Florean, preoccupied, watched this from the corner of his eye, but as he processed what was happening, the man jumped with a “Wait!” and startled his daughter.

“What is it?” Alice exasperated with wide eyes.

Florean was breathing a bit harder with the sudden jump of his heart, but he quickly tried to calm himself, so as not to further frighten his daughter. “Why don’t you use a napkin, darling?” he gently urged, summoning one over to her. The nine year old was looking at him as if he were crazy. “I can take the wrapper from you.”

With her eyebrows furrowed, Alice looked from her father, to the gum wrapper in her hands, and back up to her father. She started to giggle. “What d’you want with my gum wrapper, Dad?”

“It’s a surprise,” her father grinned.

“It’s a surprise?” she repeated in disbelief.

“Yes, a surprise,” he chuckled. “Think of it as an act of love.”

“An act of love,” she parroted slowly. “Giving you my gum wrapper is an act of love?”

“Yes.”

This simple yet strange interaction threw father and daughter headfirst into an intense staring contest, brown eyes battling blue-green, both determined to see the other blink first. Though the girl had inherited her father’s stubbornness, her own could never seem to match up to his, and while she sighed, Florean smiled victoriously.

“Alright,” Alice gave in, surrendering her wrapper to her father and spitting her gum into the napkin he had gotten for her. She watched her father’s face brighten as he took the wrapper, bringing her to shake her head. She was only nine, but already, she wondered if she was more mature than her father. “You’re so weird,” she commented with a chuckle.

Without missing a beat, her father responded, “Thank you,” and began to head back to the back room, carrying Alice’s gum wrapper like his most prized possession. Alice watched him with a smile as he went. She well knew that her father wasn’t your typical wizard, and while he could be extremely embarrassing sometimes, she wouldn’t change a thing about him.

The smile fell from her face as quickly as the book fell from her hands as she felt a sudden flash of the most intense pain she’s ever felt. Her mouth fell open as she doubled over, but the scream was stuck in her throat, not a sound being emitted. The pain stopped momentarily, but came back even stronger a second later, her vision flashing white.

“Dad!” she screamed out.

But his figure retreated into the back room of their ice cream shop without even sparing a glance in her direction.

#circulus viciosus #cv #stars series #fatecanberewritten #fatecanberewritten-writer #fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #alice & frank fanfiction #alice & frank #alice & frank longbottom #original order of the phoenix #ao3 fanfiction #wattpad fanfiction #alice fortescue #florean fortescue

[fatecanberewritten-writer]

Circulus Viciosus | Alice & Frank Longbottom

An act of love. Not always easy to understand, but sometimes, the only thing we can do.

Frank and Alice spent years just barely missing each other, years of peace, but years of feeling as though something was missing. But war has a funny way of bringing people together.

And a cruel way of tearing them apart.

Warning: This story is rated Mature for dark themes and graphic depictions of violence. Reader discretion advised. I will always provide a warning for chapters containing particularly rough scenes.

Read on AO3; read on Wattpad.

Stars Series

PART I | GUM WRAPPERS & KNITTING NEEDLES

Chapter One: An Act of Love

#circulus viciosus #cv #stars series #fatecanberewritten #fatecanberewritten-writer #harry potter fanfiction #alice & frank #alice & frank longbottom #alice & frank fanfiction #original order of the phoenix #ao3 fanfiction #wattpad fanfiction

[fatecanberewritten-writer]

By the Light of the Moon | Chapter One: Monster

Stars Series | By the Light of the Moon

Trigger Warnings: Blood, Aftermath of Violence

The dark red against the dirty snow was a sickly sight to see, but it had nothing on the two mangled bodies of children that lay not far away. The two boys, each about ten years old, were hardly recognizable. Whatever had attacked them had not just killed them - it had torn them to shreds.

The man’s stomach felt uneasy as he stood from where he was crouched beside the bodies. In his job, he’d seen things like this several times before, but this had to have been the most bloody. With a shudder, he turned away from the bodies and caught sight of something that until then had been overlooked - a single bloody footprint in the snow. Only, it wasn’t human.

Taking a deep breath, the man turned from the scene entirely, ducking under the caution tape to join his partner. 

“It was Mrs. Randall, there, that found them,” a uniformed police officer told his partner as he approached them. They all looked in the direction of the nearest house, where a plump woman was standing on her back porch, her horrified eyes still fixed on the bodies. “Will you be needing to speak with her as well?”

“No,” answered the partner. “I think we’ll be alright with what you’ve told us already.”

“Anything else I can do to help, let me know,” the policeman said with a solemn bow of his head. 

“Before you go,” the man intervened, stopping the officer before he could walk away. “I did have one question.”

The officer looked cautiously from the man to his partner, then back. “Of course, Mr. - uh - ”

“Scamander.”

The officer’s confusion only grew. “Mr. Scamander.”

“Was there anyone around,” started Mr. Scamander, “anyone suspicious reported within the last couple of days?”

As he said this, his partner’s face slacked with the sudden realization, but the officer looked more astounded than ever. “No way could a person do this!” he exclaimed. “This was a beast! I’m sure of it!”

“Answer the question, Officer Roberts,” Scamander’s partner said, almost lazily. 

Officer Roberts looked extremely taken aback at this, as if he would’ve expected the man to be on his side instead of his partner’s. He gaped at both of the men, and answered hesitantly. “There’s been an uptick in the homeless population in this area, but they’re mostly drunks or shell-shocked vets! None of them could’ve done this, I’ll tell you that!”

“Those vagrants are more trouble than they’re worth, Roberts, and you know it!” shouted Mrs. Randall from her porch, in obvious disagreement. “Especially that horde of young ones that hang around in these here woods, scaring the wits out of everyone in the neighborhood!”

Both Mr. Scamander and his partner tilted their heads toward a red-faced Officer Roberts, their eyebrows raised at Mrs. Randall’s words. “Like I said,” Officer Roberts continued, flustered, “drunks! Probably just some Uni dropouts trying to live like beatniks. But there’s no way they could have done this! No human could have done this!”

Mr. Scamander ignored him, stepping towards the home of Mrs. Randall. “Do you think you could describe them to me, Mrs. Randall? Perhaps we could get a sketch or two going?”

“Certainly!” beamed Mrs. Randall, very glad to be of importance.

“Now hang on just one second!” cried Officer Roberts, fuming. “This is nothing more than an animal attack, Scamander! Surely this still falls under local jurisdiction! Now, I was happy to keep you Feds in the loop, but I will not stand by and let you take over my investigation!”

“Despite what you may think,” said Scamander, hardly even turning around, “this is no longer your jurisdiction, Roberts. Mr. Lupin,” he said, addressing his partner, “would you please escort Officer Roberts from the scene?”

“Certainly,” answered Lyall Lupin. Once Mr. Scamander had escorted Mrs. Randall back into her home and out of view, Lupin pulled out his wand, held it to Officer Robert’s temple, and uttered a simple word: “Obliviate.”

Nearly a month had passed before the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, headed by Dalton Scamander, were able to track down the ‘horde of young vagrants’ Mrs. Randall had described to them. As he suspected, two of the seven young men were listed on the Werewolf Registry, albeit under different names. All but one of the seven had reliable alibis for the night in question, including the two known werewolves. Only one remained.

“Get your hands off me, you fuckin’ coppers!” spat Fenrir Greyback to the two men struggling to bring him into the dark room. The rough-looking young man, with his hands restrained behind his back with a set of Muggle handcuffs violently shrugged the two men off of him, but as the door was shut and he turned to face a room full of about a half-dozen men, he made the wise decision not to struggle any more. 

An intimidated look on his weather-beaten face, Greyback moved towards the empty, metal chair at the center of the table. He turned his back to it, attempting to awkwardly pull it from the table with his bound hands. With no more than a slight twirl of Dalton Scamander’s wand, the metal cuffs fell to the floor with a clang, and Greyback blanched. “Have a seat, Mr. Greyback.”

“How the hell did you just - ”

“Have a seat,” said Scamander again, the patience gone from his voice. Hesitantly, Greyback did as he was told.

“What is all this?” Greyback asked immediately, his voice a bit shaky as he looked around at the strange men. “Why go to all this trouble? I admit it, I stole that bloody whiskey! Throw me in that damn cell like you always do and let me out the next day - it was just a petty theft! Don’t you people have more important things to deal with?” 

A few eyes of the Committee members drifted cautiously over to Scamander, but he seemed to ignore Greyback’s speech completely. “Do you know where you are, Mr. Greyback?”

Greyback’s eyes scanned around the room again, trying to meet the more sympathetic ones. After a moment he answered, “No.”

“You’re in the Ministry of Magic,” Scamander answered coolly, sitting forward and into the light. Greyback watched his face carefully, memorizing it. “In the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, to be more specific.”

There was a silence, a silence in which Greyback’s wide, wild eyes did not leave the calculative ones of Dalton Scamander. Slowly, he began to chuckle, and his chuckle quickly evolved into an all out laugh. “Quit pulling my fucking leg, copper, I haven’t gone mad yet! Magic? Creatures? What kind of sick joke are you tryin’ to - ”

“It’s no joke!” cut in an angry voice at the far end of the table. Greyback’s eyes drifted over to a man he would soon know as Lyall Lupin. “And it’s no petty theft you’re in for today!”

The amusement gone from his face, Greyback slowly turned back to Scamander, the obvious man in charge. “What’s he talking about?”

“Mr. Greyback,” Scamander drawled, interlocking his fingers on the table in front of him, “where were you on the night of the seventeenth of January?”

Greyback’s eyes narrowed, his bushy brows furrowing. “That was almost a fucking month ago!” he exclaimed. “How am I supposed to remember? What the hell do you think I’ve done?”

“On the morning of the eighteenth of January, two children were found dead at the edge of the forest that you and your friends have frequented for nearly a year. Now, I think you should try your hardest to remember where exactly you were on the night of the seventeenth of January.” 

His eyes were wide and glossy now. “K-Kids? You think I had something to do with the death of two kids?”

Impatiently, Scamander repeated, “Where were you the night of the seventeenth of January?”

“Probably at a bar with my mates!” he exclaimed defensively. “Ask Danny Anders, he’ll tell you!”

“We’ve already spoken to Mr. Anders, Mr. Greyback,” came a voice to the left of Scamander, an older man with square spectacles. “He was confirmed to be at the local pub on the night in question, alongside Mr. Lowe, Bates, and Silva. The other members of your little gang, Mr. Adkins and Mr. Garza, were confirmed to be out of town on that same night. None of them gave any mention whatsoever of you, Mr. Greyback.”

“Well they’re fucking lying, then!” shouted Greyback. “I was with Anders and the rest of them at that fucking pub!”

Scamander cut in again. “Are you aware, Mr. Greyback, that Abraham Lamb and Paul Massey, or as you would know them, Kyle Adkins and Bradley Garza, are both registered werewolves?”

“Werewolves?” The chuckle was back in Greyback’s voice. “Like that storybook creature from Little Red Riding Hood? Are you sure you’re not the one that’s gone mad?”

From his right, Mears leaned over to Scamander. “You sure about this, Dalton? He may not have a solid alibi, but he seems like nothing more than a Muggle tramp to me, like Anders and the rest of them were.”

“Don’t call me no fucking names!” Greyback growled. “What the hell is a Muggle, anyway?”

“Mears has got a point,” said Graff, and three more of the investigators nodded in agreement. “I don’t think he’s our man. Maybe we should check back in with Lamb and Massey.”

“Hang on,” Lupin cut in, looking incredulously at the rest of the investigators. “Don’t tell me you’re falling for this! This man’s got all the tell-tale signs of a werewolf! He’s covered in scars, he’s agitated, and he looks sick!”

“Lupin, this man’s a Muggle beggar!” exclaimed Graff. “He lives on the streets, like the rest of them! He’s probably just sick because he’s malnourished!”

“Or because the full moon’s approaching!”

“You’re grasping at strings here, Lupin,” chuckled Newell. Lupin, while respected, wasn’t very well liked among his colleagues. After getting rid of that Boggart in Strathtully, he’s had a bit of a hero complex.

“Yeah, a man without an alibi on the night of the attack with relations to known werewolves - really grasping at strings!” Lupin fumed. He turned to Scamander. “Dalton, come on. This is our man.”

Before Scamander could respond, Newell was chuckling again. “Lyall, you just stick to Welsh Boggarts, that’s what you’re good at.”

At the hardening look on Lupin’s face, Scamander quickly felt like he was losing control of his Committee. “And what if we set him free, and I’m right?” Lupin bit back, staring at Newell. “D’you want his next bloody murder of Muggle children on your conscience, Newell?”

“Lyall, please,” Scamander cut in, “even if we do release him, he’ll be surveilled until we find the werewolf responsible.”

“Then why don’t we just keep him in custody?” Lupin pleaded with Scamander. “The next moon’s only in twenty-four hours. Why don’t we just keep him until then?”

Newell scoffed. “You’re gonna make Scamander jump through all those administrative hoops just for twenty-four hours?”

“You’re suggesting we set him free just to avoid the paperwork?” Lupin seethed, getting to his feet. In a burst of rage, he slammed his fist on the table, and pointed angrily to Greyback with his other hand. “This is the werewolf! This monster tore those two kids to shreds! You saw it, Scamander! You saw what he did! He’s soulless, evil, and deserving of nothing but death, like all his other werewolf friends!”

The room went silent, and as Dalton Scamander swallowed and closed his eyes, he missed the dark shadow that passed over Fenrir Greyback’s face. “Take a walk, Lupin,” Scamander said quietly, restraint in his voice.

“Dalton - ”

“I said take a walk.”

For several moments, Lyall did not move, merely gaping at his superior, a man he respected above all others, a man that he thought for sure would be on his side. His eyes shifted to a smirking Newell, and he shut his mouth, storming out of the room without another word.

After another breathless moment, Scamander looked up at Greyback, who sat back in his chair, still as a statue. “I apologize on behalf of Mr. Lupin’s outburst,” he said rather reluctantly. “Let’s continue on with the investigation, shall we?”

The investigation didn’t last much longer. With Lupin gone, Scamander was the only one that wasn’t fully convinced that Fenrir Greyback was just a lowly Muggle tramp, and without any damning evidence, Dalton was forced to follow procedure, and release him. Newell and Mears stood to escort him out and obliviate him, but surprisingly Scamander stood with them.

He took Greyback a little roughly by the arm as they left the room, and hissed into his ear, “Don’t think that you’ve gotten off yet, Greyback. You might have them all convinced, but not me. I’ll be seeing you again, I can promise you that.” And he turned away, stalking angrily down the hall, leaving Greyback to Newell and Mears. His back to him, Scamander once again missed the dark shadow that fell over Greyback’s face, this time accompanied with the slightest smirk.

Yes, thought the werewolf, I can promise you that, too.

#by the light of the moon #btlotm #stars series #fatecanberewritten #fatecanberewritten-writer #fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #remus lupin fanfiction #marauders era fanfiction #marauders era #marauders fanfiction #ao3 fanfiction #wattpad fanfiction #remus x oc #bi!remus #tw: blood #tw: aftermath of violence #oc: dalton scamander #lyall lupin #oc: charles roberts #oc: normal randall #fenrir greyback #oc: forest mears #oc: haywood graff #oc: randell newell #oc: tad corbett #oc: byron maddox

[fatecanberewritten-writer]

By the Light of the Moon | Remus Lupin

Remus Lupin and Thaddeus Scamander were not a pair many would put together. One a Gryffindor, the other a Slytherin, the two seemed to be about as different as they could be, but it was not their similarities that brought them together - it was a shared past.

They had a common monster in their closet, and while it was able to get one of them, the other had been able to escape by the luck of his raw, uncontrolled magic. And yet, they are both haunted.

As war looms ever closer, the oh-so-different boys find themselves side-by-side, brutally torn apart, and side-by-side yet again. Two boys are forced to become men, horribly alone for both the same and vastly different reasons. Could they find comfort and safety in the form of one another, or will they be forever cursed by the light of the moon?

Warning: This story is rated Mature for dark themes and graphic depictions of violence. Reader discretion advised. I will always provide a warning for chapters containing particularly rough scenes. 

Read on AO3; read on Wattpad

Stars Series

PART I | THE DARKEST NIGHT

Chapter One: Monster 

#by the light of the moon #btlotm #stars series #fatecanberewritten #fatecanberewritten-writer #fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #remus lupin fanfiction #remus x oc #remus x male oc #bi!remus #marauders era #marauders era fanfiction

[fatecanberewritten-writer]

Crucio | Chapter Five: The Deal

Stars Series | Crucio

Cross followed Riddle silently through the Slytherin common room. He had to hold himself back from speaking aloud the barrage of questions he had for him, knowing he would be scolded or worse if he said anything now. They left the common room altogether.

He was thankful when Riddle led him into the first empty classroom they came upon, locking the door and casting a silencing charm. Cross went to speak, but when he saw the angry flare in Riddle’s eye as he turned back to him, he held his tongue. “Don’t ever do that again.”

Ulises looked genuinely confused. “What, wait up for you?”

“Yes,” hissed Riddle.

Cross gaped at him. A flare of his own was slowly igniting. He tilted his head, his voice rising. “You didn’t seem to have a problem with Kenter waiting up for you!”

“She is exactly why you shouldn’t have done that,” Riddle retorted. “Do you seriously think she would have waited for me if you hadn’t been doing it first? She’s smarter than she looks, you know. Did she at any point ask you why you were waiting for me?”

Cross’s face paled. “Tom, she doesn’t - ”

“She bloody well could!” shouted Riddle. His anger grew when Cross didn’t even flinch. “I have a fucking agenda to follow, Cross. I don’t have time to be Damage Control for you.”

“She doesn’t suspect anything!” Ulises shouted with just as much vigor. Tom’s face fell slightly, feeling that same alien emotion again. He was defending her. “And even if she does - ” his voice had softened as he saw genuine emotion on Riddle’s face for the first time - “I’ll take care of it. I know, Eliza - she’s manageable.”

Riddle looked away from him. “For your sake, I hope she is.” His voice was quieter but even more vicious than usual. He turned sharply towards the door.

“What happened with Dippet?” Cross asked quickly, stopping him.

Riddle chuckled darkly as he swiveled back around. Cross’s face softened slightly at this, but he still held a confused expression. “You won’t believe it,” he started, laughing again. This was the first time Ulises had ever seen Tom genuinely laugh, and it was as unnerving as it was intriguing. “He wants me to help him find the person behind the attacks. Of everyone, he’s put me in charge of it.”

A wide grin slowly broke on Cross’s face, and soon enough, he was laughing with Riddle. “Only you, Riddle,” he said in awe, “only you could have pulled off something like that.”

Still smiling, Tom tilted his chin down a little at the compliment. “I still can’t believe my luck.” When he looked back up at Ulises, the dark amusement was gone from his face. “But we can’t rely on luck, can we?”

Cross’s grin fell quickly. He cleared his throat. “What have you got planned?” he asked timidly.

Riddle tutted, shaking his head. “You’re quite the lucky bastard too, Cross. Last I heard, Lewis hasn’t regained consciousness, and we’re going to make sure that when he does, he won’t be able to tell a soul what he saw.”

Cross’s eyebrows knitted together. “You want him to wake up? I thought for sure that we’d - ”

“We’re not going to kill him,” Riddle deadpanned. “It would draw too much attention.”

“Isn’t that the whole point?” asked Cross, his confusion only growing. “Aren’t the attacks of the Heir of Slytherin meant to be a signal to Mudbloods that they’re not welcome?”

“No one knows that these attacks are the work of the Heir of Slytherin, and no one’s meant to,” Riddle said in a strained voice.

“What? Why?”

Riddle said nothing. He couldn’t even manage to look Ulises in the eye, and after a moment of watching him, it suddenly dawned on him. Riddle had made a mistake.

“Someone else knows, don’t they?” Ulises said gently, watching a muscle in Tom’s jaw twitch. “I’m not the only one that knows that you’re the Heir of Slytherin.”

“Yes,” Riddle hissed suddenly, not wanting to hear him say it again. “Yes, someone else knows, and if these attacks were traced back to me, Dumbledore would not be - ”

“Dumbledore?”

Tom took a deep breath, staring down at the floor between his feet and Ulises’. There wasn’t much of a gap.

Ulises noticed at once the rapid tapping of Tom’s fingers against his thigh, and realized that he was witnessing yet another genuine emotion of Tom Riddle, something so rare he didn’t think it existed. He was hesitant to ask, but he didn’t know what else to say. “How?”

Riddle glared as he finally looked up at Cross. He didn’t know if he was angered more by his boldness in asking in the first place, or by the comforting concern in his voice. “He was the first wizard I met,” he started sharply, “and as a naive child who saw someone like him for the first time, I asked too many questions - told him too much. I told him I could speak to snakes.” He watched as Cross’ jaw dropped, and before he could speak, Riddle spoke up in defense of himself. “I didn’t know how rare it was, but I did the second I saw his face.”

Cross scoffed, shaking his head. “That’s fucking bold of you to try something like this with him knowing.”

“Dumbledore doesn’t scare me,” Riddle hissed, though he refused to meet Cross’s eye.

“He should,” Ulises continued. “You do realize that the only reason Gellert Grindelwald hasn’t outright attacked the UK yet is out of fear of Dumbledore?”

“And yet Grindelwald has been taking over the wizarding world for nearly half a century and Dumbledore has done nothing,” Riddle seethed, snapping his eyes up to meet Cross’s. Losing his breath, Ulises took the slightest step back. Anger had flashed in his fellow Slytherin’s eyes again, but with this came something more. In the dim moonlight, Tom Riddle’s eyes almost looked red. “Whatever power he may possess is offset by his cowardice. While Dumbledore may suspect me, he won’t do a damned thing. D’you know why?”

Breathless, Ulises offered him no answer.

“Because he is weak.” 

A silence hung in the air as Riddle finished. Cross was absolutely astounded by this - anyone he had ever known had either been deeply fearful of Dumbledore or had a unsurmounted respect for the wizard. Tom Riddle was the first person he had ever known to call the undisputed greatest wizard in modern British history weak. 

“Now,” Tom continued, straightening out his robes, “unless you’d like to question me any further - and I can assure you that you don’t - we have a job to do.”

Without another word of dispute, Cross stood at attention like a soldier in the presence of his commanding officer. “Right,” he said. “What are we doing with the Mudblood?”

“Well,” Riddle started, his evil grin returning. “I thought I might use this opportunity to experiment a little.”

Cross’s eyebrows furrowed. “What d’you mean by that?”

With a slight chuckle, Riddle said, “You’ll see. But first we’ll need to get to the Hospital Wing. Now, Dippet’s tightened up on security tonight. The only prefects that are on duty are the Head Boy and Girl - the rest of patrol are Professors, so this won’t be a walk in the park. The Hospital Wing will be the most heavily guarded. They all fear that the attacker will come back to finish off his victims.”

Though there hadn’t been a hint of amusement in Riddle’s voice, his speech was interrupted by the deep, menacing laughter of Cross. “Wonder why they’d think that,” Ulises mused, ignoring Tom’s glare.

“This isn’t a joke,” Riddle snapped.

“Seems like it to me,” Cross jested under his breath.

Tom looked away from his bright blue eyes, forcibly ignoring his comment. “How is your Disillusionment charm?”

“Absolute shit,” he answered without missing a beat. “Do I strike you as someone who has to hide?”

“I’ll have to perform one for the both of us, then,” he concluded, stepping closer to Cross, only vaguely acknowledging the way his breath hitched as Riddle grabbed his wrist. “I know, at least, that you can cast a decent silencing charm, so quiet our footsteps and don’t say a fucking word until I say.”

Ulises parted his lips to say something, but without even a moment’s hesitation, Riddle had silently cast his Disillusionment charm, and with the feeling of a raw egg being cracked atop his head, Ulises watched Tom’s figure fade into the background as he disappeared as well. The empty classroom now felt truly empty, and he had only the feeling of Tom’s warm fingers around his wrist to assure him that he was not alone.

“Well?” came Tom’s almost sultry voice to his left. “Are you going to hold up your end of the deal, Ulises?”

His breath left him as he heard his name fall from Tom’s lips, but with a painful inhale, Ulises raised his wand. “Silencio.”

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Crucio | Chapter Four: Waiting

Stars Series | Crucio

Very few remained in the Slytherin common room that late at night. With the fear and excitement that had overtaken the castle at the news of the second attack, many of the students retired to their dormitories earlier than usual, thinking that they might be safe in the comfort of their beds. Left in the common room was a sixth year couple, a group of three seventh years still vehemently discussing theories about the attacks, and a lone fifth year who sat in a shadowy corner of the room, waiting.

The relatively quiet room was awakened with a sudden jolt of noise - the shifting of stones as the entrance revealed itself. All of the remaining students turned to see who was entering, but upon seeing only the Slytherin prefects returning from their emergency meeting, most of them turned their attention back to their respective conversations. Only the fifth year kept his focus on the prefects.

Boys led the group, the sixth and seventh year prefects, walking solemnly beside one another. The girls came shortly after, the two older ones whispering worriedly to each other, the fifth year only walking in their shadow. The boy in the corner sat up, craning his neck towards the entrance, his stomach dropping as he watched it fade back to smooth stone. No one else was coming. 

The movement caught Elizabeth Kenter’s eye. She broke away from her fellow prefects, making her way towards the boy. “Ulises?” Her voice was just loud enough for him to hear her, and as he turned to meet her eyes, Eliza almost recoiled. She’d never seen him so worried. “It’s late,” she continued after a minute, watching him with furrowed eyebrows, “shouldn’t you be in bed?”

“Where’s Riddle?” Cross retorted, ignoring her question completely.

His bright blue eyes watching hers carefully, Eliza felt a foreign rush that caused her heartbeat to quicken, which left her more flustered than ever. Growing up in Pureblood society, she’d known Ulises for most of her life, but she had never before felt like this when he looked at her. She couldn’t quite place it, but there was something different in his eyes - something almost caring.

“Eliza,” Ulises drawled, waving a hand in front of her face. She blinked, suddenly embarrassed at how long she had been staring at him in silence.

“Professor Dippet asked him to stay behind after the meeting, he should be - ” but she stopped, noticing how wide Ulises’ eyes had gotten. “What’s wrong?” she asked sharply, a mirroring worry washing over her features.

“Nothing,” he answered quickly. He sat back in his chair, falling into the shadowy corner, and turned away from her. Even shadowed, she could see his mind working. “Nothing’s wrong. It’s late. You should be in bed.”

Hearing her own words repeated back to her, Eliza’s shoulders drooped. She hesitated for a moment, knowing it was probably best to leave it alone. She knew she should walk away from him and go up to her dormitory, but in one fleeting moment of bravery, she walked closer to him.

Cross glanced up curiously as she took the seat beside him, her careful eyes watching him intently. “What are you doing?” he asked her. It came out more harshly than he had intended.

That didn’t seem to faze her. “Waiting with you,” she said simply. She crossed one leg over the other and tried not to appear intimidated by him.

“Why?”

She raised her innocent blue eyes to meet his, and for a moment, Ulises saw her in a slightly different light as well. “To make sure Tom gets back okay. He’s my friend too, you know.”

Cross scoffed at this, and would have full on laughed had he not seen the way her eyes narrowed at him. He knew for a fact that Elizabeth Kenter and Tom Riddle were not friends - hell, he was hardly Riddle’s friend. The prefects were acquaintances at most. He went to ask her why on earth she thought they were friends when it suddenly dawned on him. Eliza didn’t really have any friends.

“Alright,” he finally said. “Have it your way, then.” 

The two sat in silence for a while, Ulises watching the entrance to the common room, Eliza watching him. 

Ulises had always been curious to her, but his relationship with Riddle, especially in the last week, was easily the most curious thing about him to her now. After Ulises had drawn her away from Riddle on their patrol last week, she didn’t see Riddle until their patrol had come to an end, and from then until now, the two boys didn’t speak to each other. She wanted to know what had happened that night, and what made Ulises so worried about Tom’s absence now.

“D’you have any idea what Dippet wanted to talk to him about?” Cross asked, pulling her out of her thoughts. His left foot was tapping nervously against the concrete floor. She suddenly realized that they were the only ones left in the common room.

“No,” she said, “but, I mean, Dippet’s always favored him more than any of the other prefects. It’s probably nothing bad.”

Cross considered this momentarily, then nodded. Eliza was probably right. It was stupid of him, really, to think that Riddle was caught already.

“Why are you so worried about him?”

His face paled as he cautiously looked at Eliza. He prayed that she wasn’t suspicious of him. He didn’t have a problem with dealing with the Mudblood in any way Riddle saw fit, but he didn’t know if he could bring himself to do anything that would hurt Eliza, even if it was to save Riddle and himself. “I’m not worried about him.”

As she watched him pensively, Ulises was becoming more and more panicked, though he hid it very well. “Do you - ?”

But Eliza was silenced before she could finish her question. Both of their blue eyes snapped in the direction of the entrance as they heard it begin to open once more.

Tom Riddle, who had walked back from Dippet’s office very quickly, stopped just inside the Slytherin common room, his eyes raking over the dark, empty room, until finally, they settled on a figure sitting in a shadowy corner.

“Cross,” he said pointedly as he made his way towards the boy, his charismatic façade faltering. He stopped suddenly as he got closer, noticing the second figure sitting beside Ulises. Riddle forced a smile that, to Kenter, looked very natural. “Eliza,” he greeted. He looked between the two of them, and for the first time, felt a small tinge of emotion in his chest that he couldn’t quite name. He quickly buried it. “You two didn’t have to wait up for me.” He tried to sound grateful.

“Just wanted to make sure you got back safely,” mused Eliza, rising from her place beside Cross. “With everything going on, you know?”

“I - well - ” Riddle looked genuinely touched. Cross cocked an eyebrow as he saw this. “Thank you.”

“Not a problem at all. I’m sure you’d do the same for me.” Eliza was the only one who thought this to be true. “Well,” she continued, stifling a yawn. “It’s late, we should probably get to bed.”

Eliza started in the direction of the dormitories, but stopped when she realized neither Tom nor Ulises had moved. As she turned back to them, she noticed that Riddle was watching her from the corner of his eye, but Ulises’ bright blue eyes were keenly fixed on Tom. She couldn’t help but wish that it had been the other way around.

“Aren’t you coming?” she prodded, causing Riddle to look at her fully, though Ulises didn’t even flinch.

“Of course,” Riddle answered. It took only one glance from him to get Cross to stand. They walked together to the awaiting Eliza, and the trio carried on in silence until they had to split ways at their separate dormitory entrances.

“Goodnight,” smiled Kenter.

“Goodnight,” responded Riddle.

Cross said nothing. Eliza’s eyes lingered on him for a second longer before she defeatedly started up the stairs to her dormitory.

Tom and Ulises did the same, but only a few steps up, Riddle grabbed Cross’s wrist and held a slender finger to his lips. They waited, listening to the sound of Kenter’s footsteps. As they heard the door to her dormitory close behind her, they walked back into the common room.

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[fatecanberewritten-writer]

Crucio | Chapter Three: Disobedience

Stars Series | Crucio

True to his Slytherin nature, Ulises Cross was determined to the point of stubbornness. Riddle had taken to completely ignoring and avoiding him at any chance he could, and it was a strange sight to see for those around them. Cross had always been Riddle’s second, but now he was cast to the side, as if he meant nothing at all to him. Of course, according to Riddle, he had never meant anything to him in the first place.

That was until a week after the confrontation, when Cross came crashing down beside Riddle at the breakfast table, knocking his morning tea onto the lap of Avery across from him. Cross, who had never really been fond of Avery, laughed as he screeched and jumped out of his seat. Avery, who had never really been fond of Cross, sneered at him as he Scourgified his robes.

“Quite a rude awakening,” growled Riddle, tugging out his robe from where Cross had sat on it.

At his words, Cross smiled, looking to the boy sitting next to Avery. “See that, cousin? Told you he’d come around to me.” Lestrange shook his head with a slight grin, but at Riddle’s glare, quickly looked down at his half-eaten breakfast. Cross laughed more at this, then filled another mug with Earl Grey, knowing it was Riddle’s favorite, and slid it over to him. For a moment, Riddle did nothing, refusing to acknowledge the boy. But after the moment had passed and the rest of the group had turned away, Riddle reached out to hold the warm mug between his cold hands. The corner of Cross’s lip twitched upward.

“What’s got you so bright and cheery?” grumbled Avery just before he shoveled more porridge into his mouth.

Cross looked around at the group, more excited than he had ever been. “What? Didn’t you hear the news?” Riddle’s heartbeat quickened as he looked at him from the corner of his eye. 

From the other side of Riddle, Nott scoffed. “What news?” It had been three weeks since that Mudblood had been petrified, and not much had happened since. While most of the castle was still buzzing about it, rumors flying around like owls, the older Slytherins had begun to get bored.

Cross leaned his elbows on the table, looking around the Great Hall before he leaned in closer to the group. All Riddle could hear at that moment was his own heartbeat, quickening still. Surely, Riddle thought, Cross isn’t stupid enough to tell them all. Especially here. Riddle’s eyes were fixated on his lips as they parted, about to speak, before a shout interrupted them all.

“It’s happened again!” cried out a distressed Hufflepuff at the entrance of the Great Hall. “Another Muggleborn’s been attacked!”

There was an uproar of gasps and cries throughout the Hall, and most of the professors, Headmaster Dippet leading the way, made their way to the young girl. Cross just sat back with a smirk, and for the first time in a week, Riddle looked him dead in the eye.

Then, in the chaos that followed, Riddle grabbed him by the back of his robes and pulled him from the Great Hall.

Cross gladly allowed himself to be pulled away. This confrontation was what he had been waiting for, and he couldn’t help but smile as he thought about where Riddle might take him. An empty classroom, maybe, or the dungeons. Really, he wanted to be taken to the infamous Chamber of Secrets, see where Riddle was planning it all, see Slytherin’s Monster. He wondered if the Monster was just Tom.

Instead, he was dragged out a side door and outside to the snow. Cross stumbled as Riddle shoved him into a corner of the castle walls, the windows of the Great Hall several feet above them. He laughed as he nearly fell into a snowbank, but he was quickly silenced as Riddle pushed him up against the cold brick wall, his wand to his throat. Cross kept his eyes on Riddle’s, his grin slowly growing again.

“What did you do?” Riddle hissed.

Cross laughed, though it was strained. “What I had to to get your attention.”

Riddle, not amused, pressed his wand deeper into Cross’s throat. 

“I helped, Tom,” he choked out, his grin faltering just slightly. “I don’t care if you don’t want it, I’m giving it to you because we want the same fucking thing.”

Riddle held him there for a moment more, tempted to just end him now for disobeying him, but ultimately decided against it. He had power, but within Hogwarts, Riddle was not untouchable enough to get away with something like that. With an angry sigh, he stepped back, putting his wand away. 

“What exactly did you do?” he asked again, his voice slightly calmer.

Cross smirked. “You’re not the only one around here that uses Unforgivables.”

Riddle’s eyes widened immediately. “What did you use?”

“Your calling card, apparently. The Cruciatus Curse.” Cross’s eyes narrowed in confusion as Riddle began pacing in front of him. “Except unlike you, I didn’t show the bastard mercy.”

“You idiot,” seethed Riddle. Once again, he bounded towards his fellow Slytherin. Cross flinched slightly as Riddle grabbed the front of his robes in his fist. “You fucking idiot, Cross.” Riddle pulled him closer, his lips only a centimeter from Cross’s ear. Cross could feel his breath against his cheek. “D’you think it’ll fit, Cross? The first victim petrified, the second tortured out of his fucking mind? There’s a reason Slytherin left this as a job for his heir. You wanted to help, hm? Well, now you’re gonna help me clean up your fucking mess. I hope you know what you’ve signed up for.”

Riddle let go of him and quickly put distance between the two of them as he heard the door they had come out of opening. From the corner of his eye, he could see Dumbledore, could feel him trying to pry his way into his mind.

“Five points from Slytherin, Cross,” he said quickly, “for making light of a very serious situation. It’s a horrible thing that’s happened to those Muggleborns, and you shouldn’t be making jokes about it.”

He didn’t look at Cross as he turned and made his way towards Dumbledore, keeping his eyes fixed on the snow of his path. As he climbed the steps up to the door, he looked up to meet Dumbledore’s careful gaze. “Professor Dumbledore,” he greeted with a nod. Dumbledore, his mouth slightly agape, made no reply. Riddle slipped past him into the warmth of the castle.

Slowly, Dumbledore turned to look back at Ulises Cross, and in his flustered look, Dumbledore saw his younger, naive self. Student and Professor stood in silence for a moment, both too much in shock to say a word. Finally, Cross began to walk towards the door. 

“Mr. Cross,” Dumbledore started as the boy reached him. He received no more than a glance from the fifth year before he slipped past him, following Tom Riddle.

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[fatecanberewritten-writer]

Crucio | Chapter Two: Help

Stars Series | Crucio

Ulises Cross, now a highly respected fifth year Slytherin, walked briskly down the empty Hogwarts corridors with only the dim moonlight illuminating his path. It was past curfew, but Cross couldn’t care less. No one would dare to cross him. He may not have been a prefect, but all but one of them lived in fear of him.

Pridefully, he walked, his lip curving upward at the sight of two figures turning the corner in his direction a distance away. He lifted his arms from his sides, palms forward, as if to embrace the two, who were just close enough to hear his bounding footsteps. “Riddle! Kenter! Just who I was looking for,” Cross exclaimed, receiving a resounding shhh from the tired portraits hung around the corridor, to which he responded, “hush, Skeletons.”

“I could give you detention for this, you know,” responded Kenter, a pretty Pureblood prefect from Dover. Her family, all with blue eyes, fair skin and even fairer hair, was nearly as wealthy as Cross’s, but not nearly as influential. The two had known each other years before the train ride, years before the sorting, placing them both in the house of the Pure.

“Sweet Eliza,” Cross started, “you wouldn’t do that, now, would you?” There was something malicious in his voice.

Tom Riddle, towering beside his fellow prefect, huffed out a brief chuckle. Kenter looked up at Riddle, her mouth agape, almost more shocked at the person allowing the action to happen than the one actually doing it. This was common for her. She lacked the confidence to be a proper prefect.

“As you mention it, though,” Cross continued, “I did pass a young Ravenclaw by the Great Hall on my way here. Why not enforce the rules on someone they might actually apply to?”

Elizabeth Kenter rolled her wide eyes, and after a glance to her patrol partner of the night, brushed past Cross in the direction of the Great Hall, alone.

Riddle shook his head, smiling as Cross took Kenter’s place beside him, watching the girl’s retreating figure. “You really should treat her with a bit more respect,” said Riddle. Cross straightened his posture a little at the boy’s deep, smooth voice. “She’s a nice girl.”

“You’re right,” he answered. “I’ll probably marry her one day.” He didn’t know if Kenter could hear them still. He didn’t care.

The two stood in silence, watching, waiting, until Kenter disappeared around a corner at the end of the corridor. Cross turned to Riddle and found his head already turned towards him, a look on his face that couldn’t explicitly be read. A moment of unabashed eye-contact was broken by Cross, tightening his jaw, looking down. Riddle remained.

Clearing his throat, Cross spoke up. “Could I steal you for a moment, Riddle?”

“You already have,” Riddle responded amusedly, motioning to the empty hallway. Riddle watched as Cross looked around, dumbfounded, his apparent plan not going the way he saw it. Cross was the only one Riddle had ever come across that actually amused him. All others he associated with were nothing more than followers.

“Right,” said Cross, “uh, in here?” 

With hesitance, Riddle followed Cross into an empty classroom behind them. He watched as his fellow Slytherin shut and locked the door, muttering a quick silencing charm about the room. Riddle stood more with curiosity than fear, but, nonetheless, his wand was out, held behind his back. Cross exhaled before turning to his classmate.

“I know it’s you.”

Riddle’s grip on his wand tightened, but he did not withdraw it from behind his back. He briefly shut his eyes, and tightly smiled. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Oh, come on, Tom - ”

“Don’t call me that.” His tone was even, yet vicious. Still, Cross ignored him.

He began pacing. “The other Slytherins - they underestimate you because you’re Half-Blood, but not me. See, Tom, I know you. I’ve known since that first train ride who you were and what you were capable of. I mean, after all, Heir of Slytherin isn’t a title that amounts to nothing, now, is it?” A gleam could be seen in Cross’s eye as he finished, stepping closer to Riddle. Never before has he seen such unease written on Riddle’s face. “You’ve opened the Chamber of Secrets, haven’t you? You’re the one that attacked that Mudblood.”

Riddle fiddled with his wand behind his back, desperately trying to think of what to do. He could tamper with the boy’s mind, but he hadn’t quite perfected memory charms yet, and didn’t want to experiment on such a useful mind. Torture was really his forte - it always has been, but he didn’t know if the situation called for it. Was Cross someone he could trust?

“I suppose,” started Riddle slowly, “you’re going to report me to Dippet now, aren’t you?”

“Report you?” said Cross, bewildered. “No - no, Tom, I want to help you.”

He wanted to torture him just for his insistent use of his father’s name.

“You see, I knew there was something special about you - something that demanded respect - and for years, I couldn’t quite place it, but I think I finally have. You’re here to carry out Salazar Slytherin’s most noble work - to finally rid Hogwarts of all the Mudbloods that clog its halls - and I want to do anything I can to help.”

Riddle stood in awe at his counterpart’s plea, taking his time before speaking. “That is flattering, Cross. Really, it is - but I don’t want your help.”

“Tom - ” Cross was attempting to step closer to him, but was stopped by Riddle’s wand, only an inch from his face.

“I thought I told you not to call me that?” Riddle purred maliciously.

Wandless, Cross stepped back, raising his hands in defense as Riddle stepped forward, backing him into a wall.

“Oh, Ulises. You say that you know me - that you’ve known me since you first met me, but I have some news for you.” Ulises Cross watched fearfully as the corner of Riddle’s lip curved upward in a smirk. “You don’t know me at all. Crucio!”

Cross’s vision flashed white as he fell to the floor, the most intense pain he had ever felt reverberating throughout his bones. He was no stranger to this curse - his father had used it on him multiple times growing up, but it had never been anything like this. Never anything as painful as this. He screamed despite the fact he knew not a soul in the castle could hear him. All the while, Riddle’s face remained unchanged.

He didn’t know how long it had been since the curse had started - seconds, minutes - but eventually, he was released from it, shaking, panting, cowering against the wall. He watched as Riddle turned away, and he took that moment to gather his strength again.

“You’re right.”

Riddle had not expected him to speak, nor had he expected to see him standing up as he turned back around. He watched him curiously, admiring his resilience. 

“I don’t know you, Tom.” He smiled victoriously as he saw annoyance flash in Riddle’s eyes. “But oh, do I want to.”

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[fatecanberewritten-writer]

Crucio | Chapter One: Riddle

Stars Series | Crucio

A young boy sat alone in a deserted train station one rainy London morning. He had been to King’s Cross train station several times before and each and every time, no matter how early or late, the building was always bustling with people. Where he sat now, however, it was desolate and nearly silent. All that could be heard was the sound of a distant train whistle, still at least ten minutes out.

Of all the other times he had come to King’s Cross, he had seen only one side of it. In life as well, until very recently, the boy had seen it only one-sided despite how odd it had always felt for him. He was never meant to be on that side of the world and he knew it - but there, in the silent emptiness of Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, he for once felt at peace.

The scarlet train entitled The Hogwarts Express arrived soon enough and, as if they had been outside waiting for it, people - wizards - began appearing through the same wall the boy had entered through. He stood with his little belongings and hurried to board the train before anyone else. Securing a compartment in the very back, he sat alone and waited.

What felt like a century of interrupted silence ensued before finally the train began to move. This is it, the boy thought. After months of anticipation, he finally was off to his new life hoping to never return to his old one ever again.

The boy had always preferred to be secluded, and though several children had come by his compartment, he had sent them running each time with a simple scowl. That was until about a half an hour into the train ride.

Another boy who couldn’t be any older than the first opened the compartment door without ever seeing the first’s glare. He was fuming, and probably wouldn’t have noticed the first boy even if he had been shouting at him. “Mudbloods everywhere,” said the new boy with a bitterness in his voice. The first boy would still rather be alone, but he suddenly found the new one a bit more intriguing. The compartment was filled with a collective bitterness. “Can you believe it? Not a single compartment without a Mudblood. Disgusting.”

The boys connected gazes then, the first realizing that the second had finally acknowledged him - spoken to him, as if they had already known each other. “Yeah,” responded the first. “Disgusting.”

The new boy narrowed his bright blue eyes at the first, leaning forward, as if to get a better look at him. “I don’t recognize you. You’re Pureblood, right?”

The first’s lips parted, his eyes darting to the right a bit, as if he truly had to think about this question. The second clenched his teeth and stood from his seat.

“You’re one of them, aren’t you? Ridiculous! Not a single compartment pure of Muggle blood! What a waste, truly - ”

“Wait, no - I am,” the first quickly intervened, suddenly wanting to know more from this boy who seemed to have as much hatred toward the non-magical as he did. “I am Pureblood.”

The second paused, sneering at the other. “Really? Who’re your parents, then? Why don’t I recognize you?”

“I’m an orphan,” answered the first. This stunned the other for a moment - he grew up in a society in which family, one’s family name in particular, was central to everything. Thinking even for a moment of what it might be like to not have those caused him to sit back down.

“So, you grew up as an honorary Muggle.”

The first rolled his eyes, beginning to think of ways he could make the other leave, or at least hurt him. “I grew up hating them, but if you have to put it that way, then I guess I did.”

“How do you even know you’re Pureblood?”

This stopped the first, but only momentarily. He knew that there was no way his parents could be Muggles. He was much too powerful. He told the other this, but the other merely laughed.

“D’you know who your parents are, at least? I know the Pureblood families well. I could confirm that you are.”

“I don’t need to prove myself to you,” the first angrily responded, a glare on his face that almost looked murderous in the moment. Again, all the other did was laugh.

“You don’t know much at all about the Wizarding community, do you? A name is everything here - everything.” The second boy looked as though he spoke from experience, and the first decided then and there that he would stick around this boy. He needed to know as much about this world as he could, and this seemed to be a good way to do it. 

“My father was Riddle.”

“Okay, what’s the riddle?” the second immediately responded, leaning his elbows onto his knees as if he were truly ready to solve a riddle for his counterpart’s father.

A smirk of a smile appeared on Riddle’s face, not because he found the other to be humorous, but because he knew at that moment that he was superior. “No,” he said slowly, suddenly taking control of the conversation. “That’s his name. Riddle.”

The second’s eyebrows furrowed as he thought. “Don’t recognize it. May not be local - most likely it’s Muggle.” Riddle glared once again, and the other quickly continued. “And your mother?”

That quieted Riddle. The head of his orphanage had told him very little about his mother aside from her untimely death at his birth and the fact that she was a circus worker, something Riddle had never truly believed. All he knew about her other than that was the name that appeared on his birth certificate. “I don’t know her family name - she was Riddle when she died. Merope Riddle.”

The silence he received from the other boy was different than it had been in the past couple of minutes, and Riddle knew that it meant something. He could watch the boy’s mind working. “Merope,” he said slowly, his eyes unfocused. Finally, he looked at Riddle. “D’you know any of your extended family on her side? Grandparents? Uncles?”

Riddle figured the blank stare he was giving the boy was enough of an answer. 

“Not even names?” continued the boy. “Merope’s not too common a name among wizards, but I seriously doubt it’s Muggle. And if what I’m thinking is right, well. . .” He didn’t finish his thought, but the smile that was rising on his face caused Riddle’s stomach to flip. This boy knew something, and Riddle needed to know what it was.

“What about Marvolo?” said Riddle immediately. “That’s my middle name. Doesn’t sound Muggle to me.”

He watched as the corner of the other’s mouth began to curve upward into a smirk. “Would you look at that,” he finally said. “The Heir of Slytherin’s finally come to Hogwarts. You’re a Gaunt, my friend. One of the last living members of Salazar Slytherin’s great, Pureblood line.”

Though Riddle didn’t know exactly what he meant, he understood that he was in fact meant to be in this world. In this world, he was an heir, a legend. But there was one thing the boy said that Riddle didn’t agree with. “What led you to believe we were friends?”

The boy leaned back in his seat, appearing almost hurt by Riddle’s comment. “Come on,” he said. “Even the darkest of wizards need friends.” Riddle, for some reason, couldn’t tell him in that moment just how wrong he was. “What was your name, anyway? Something Riddle, I’m assuming.”

“Tom,” answered Riddle distastefully. He’s always hated his name, and the thought that it might sound ‘too Muggle’ caused him to hate it even more.

“Cross,” responded the other, holding out his hand for Tom to shake. A sign of friendship. Riddle stared at it. “Ulises Cross.”

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[fatecanberewritten-writer]

Black Sheep | Chapter Four: Legacy

Stars Series | Black Sheep

Danielle Herbison was the last person you would ever find wandering. She wasn’t a girl that left her comfort zone, not at all - especially on the train ride to Hogwarts. Even when she was a first year, the girl had said goodbye to her family, boarded the train and gone into the very first compartment she found, not caring if there was anyone else in it. That was actually how she had met and befriended Cori McMahan, and now, five years later, it was that friendship that had her uncomfortably wandering the corridors of the Hogwarts Express.

The girl let out a breath of relief as she came into the next train car, finally spotting her friend at the end of it, exiting a compartment with a fairly large group of people. It took Danielle a second to realize that she had wandered all the way up to the prefect carriages. “Cori!”

In the middle of all the prefects as they were being dismissed from the meeting, Cori looked around as she heard her name being called. For a second, she thought that she was just hearing things, but as she heard it again, the Slytherin stood on the tips of her toes to see over her fellow prefects and found a familiar head of dark hair at the end of the corridor. Smiling at her friend, she started to weave her way through the crowded corridor. Slipping away, she missed Percy Weasley trying to get her attention.

“What’s all that about?” Danielle questioned as Cori reached her. “Are you a prefect? Why are - ” but with a gasp, the girl cut herself off, her eyes finding her friend’s badge - “You are - why didn’t you tell me?” This last bit was paired with a meant-to-be-soft smack on the arm.

“Hello to you, too,” Cori muttered sarcastically, rubbing her arm.

With an eye roll, Danielle took Cori’s arm. “Come on,” she said, “let’s go to our compartment, you know I hate being out in the hall when the train’s moving.”

As Danielle steered her away, Cori gave one more glance back at the prefects, most of whom stood outside the prefect’s carriage socializing. Her eyes met that same pair of hazel ones they kept finding that day, and like before, it seemed as though the boy had already been looking at her. Cori spared the Gryffindor, still stuck in the crowd, a small smile before Danielle whisked her away.

“Alright,” Danielle said a few minutes later as the girls settled into their usual compartment, shared today with a couple of second year Hufflepuffs. They didn’t pay them any mind. “Spill.”

Cori sighed. In many ways, Danielle reminded her of Gus. “It’s not really a big deal.” As Danielle scoffed, Cori quickly continued, “I didn’t see it as a big deal, nor want to make a big deal of it. So I’m a prefect - doesn’t really change much, does it?”

“Aside from the fact that you’ll be loads more busy now,” Danielle countered grumpily. “It’s already bad enough that we’re in different houses, now with this, I’ll hardly ever get to see you. You are my only friend, you know.”

“You know I’ll always make time for you, Danielle,” Cori said in a docile tone, her head tilting to the side a bit. “But look on the bright side - now you could have time to join that Herbology club you always talk about!”

Danielle went to protest, but stopped short as she processed what her friend had suggested. Ever since third year, Danielle had wanted to join the Herbology club, but she’d opted out of it to spend her extra time with Cori, who was absolutely terrible at Herbology. She sat back now, starting to see the positives. “You’ve got a point there,” she mused. “Anyway, how was it? What’s it like being a prefect?”

She chuckled a little at the sudden change of attitude. “Right now, it just feels like a club that I’m very new to. Everyone except for me and a couple other fifth years seem to be friends.”

“Ooh, who are the other prefects in our year? Start with my house.”

Cori scrunched her eyebrows as she tried to recall the names - the meeting had taken nearly an hour. “Noe Monian and Penelope Clearwater.”

“Really?” Danielle commented with raised eyebrows. “Penelope Clearwater?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Well, she wouldn’t be my first choice. Sure, she’s brainy, but she’s never seemed like someone who’d take charge. Honestly, I think she’s a bit of a pushover. Doesn’t really have any friends, either.”

“She seemed a bit shy,” Cori shrugged, “but I’m sure she’ll be fine - Flitwick wouldn’t have picked her otherwise, right?”

“She’s always showing off in Charms - maybe that’s why he picked her,” Danielle grumbled.

With a bit of a smirk, Cori quirked an eyebrow at her friend. “Is she really a show off, or is she just better than you?”

A somewhat playful glare swiped over Danielle’s face, and she opted to change the subject instead of answering. “Who’s the other Slytherin?”

“Felix Manning.”

“I can see that,” Danielle quipped. “He’s always seemed the type. Who else?”

“Frank Edwards and Dorothy Anderson from Hufflepuff, and Bridget Corner and Percy Weasley from Gryffindor.”

The Ravenclaw squinted her eyes at the last name. “Weasley,” she pondered, as if trying to figure out where she’d heard the name. “Wasn’t that the Gryffindor seeker? I thought he graduated?”

“That was Charlie Weasley, and he did graduate,” Cori clarified. “They must be brothers. But you have to know Weasley - he’s always the first to answer a question in class.”

Danielle squinted her eyes more, as if she was having a lot of trouble recalling him. “Ginger with glasses, right?”

“That’s me,” came a voice from the door neither of them realized had opened again. They both jumped, Danielle yelping a little as they looked up to find the very ginger they were talking about. The second year Hufflepuffs by the window giggled at Danielle’s reaction, only laughing more as the Ravenclaw glared at them. Danielle Herbison was about the least intimidating person you could find. “Didn’t mean to startle you,” Percy said apologetically, though an amused smile was working at his lips. Cori sat up a little straighter as his hazel eyes found hers.

“That’s alright,” Danielle said, turning back from the Hufflepuffs. “Weasley, right?” He nodded. “Congratulations on making prefect.”

“Thank you,” he responded. His hands behind his back, Percy stood proudly. It was clear to Cori then that he had taken the appointment of prefect very differently than she had.

“What can we help you with?” Cori asked, saving him from Danielle’s inevitable what do you want? There was a reason the girl only had Cori as a friend.

Percy’s eyes turned brightly to the Slytherin. “I wanted to see if you wanted to patrol the train with me. Ward said it’s always better to do it in pairs, and the other Gryffindor prefect has busied herself with her boyfriend.”

“Oh, um,” Cori started, trying her best to ignore Danielle’s raised eyebrows and wide eyes fixed on her. “Yeah, sure, I’d love to.”

Danielle couldn’t hold back her scoff, and Cori figured she really had no intention to. Percy looked over to the Ravenclaw with a crease between his brows, but she was staring at her friend like he wasn’t even there. “Ditching me already? We haven’t even talked about our summers yet! I have stories about Portugal.”

“Dani, it’s not even one,” Cori started, her voice lowered a little in her embarrassment. “We’ll just go up and down the train once. I’ll be back before the trolley cart gets here.”

Her appalled look formed quickly into a glare as she looked up at Weasley. She was looking at him as she said, “I’m holding you to that.”

Percy chuckled, albeit nervously, thinking that she was joking, but as he realized she was deadly serious, he tried to pass off his chuckling as a cough. He looked at Cori for help, and with a deep breath, she stood, bid her friend goodbye, and stepped out of the compartment with the Gryffindor. “Sorry about that,” she started as soon as there was a closed door between them and Danielle. “She can be a bit tenacious.”

“Nothing to be sorry about,” Percy said quickly. “I should be the one apologizing - I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“Oh, no, it’s alright,” Cori continued, nervously tucking some of her hair behind her ear as they started their trek down the train. “I’ve got to get used to the responsibility of being a prefect - might as well start now.”

The crease was back between his brows as he turned to her. “You don’t want the responsibility?”

“Not that, necessarily,” she said, trying not to stumble over her words. “I just - I didn’t expect it, I guess.”

“I’ve wanted to be a prefect since before I came to Hogwarts,” Percy divulged, and though his tone was confident, a slight blush was creeping across his cheeks. “Both of my older brothers were prefects when they were here. My brother Bill was even Head Boy.”

“You’ve got a legacy to live up to, then,” Cori quipped playfully, smiling as the Gryffindor turned nearly as red as his hair. “Were they in Gryffindor as well?”

“Yeah,” Percy said, glad the conversation turned a bit more casual. He held the door open for her as they reached the end of the train car, offering her his hand to step over the gap between the cars. Her hand was cold, but it left a feeling of warmth where she had touched his skin, a warmth that spread to his chest rapidly. On the next train car, he closed the door and continued, “My whole family’s been - parents, brothers, uncles. . . My youngest brother, Ron, is starting this year, and he’ll probably be in Gryffindor, too.”

“What if he wasn’t?” Cori asked with genuine curiosity. “Say he was sorted into Slytherin?”

Percy chuckled, forgetting who he was talking to. “Slytherin? They’d probably disowned him. Oh, I mean - ” he realized in the midst of saying it that the prefect he was walking beside was a Slytherin - “not that there’s anything wrong with Slytherin - ”

But the Slytherin’s laughter stopped him from further fumbling over an apology. It did more than that, actually - her musical laugh made him forget what they were talking about, where they were, even, for a moment, how to breathe. “It’s alright,” she said to him with a smile that brought him happily back down to earth. “My family’s the same way. I don’t even want to imagine what my oldest brother would have done if the rest of us hadn’t been sorted into Slytherin. Merlin knows what he’d’ve done if one of us was in Gryffindor.”

“A family of Slytherins, huh?”

“Uh-huh,” she nodded. “Makes for an interesting home life, as would a family of Gryffindors, I’m sure.”

“Interesting’s definitely a word for it,” Percy chuckled. “How many siblings do you have?”

“Five.”

“Ah, I’ve got you beat,” the Gryffindor jested. “I’ve got six.”

The prefects stopped, looking attentively down the corridor as a compartment in the middle of the train car erupted with noise - screams, gasps, and even some cheers. Cori watched as Percy’s face became more serious, his position as a prefect coming to the forefront of his personality.

“I’ll bet you anything,” he said almost darkly, “that that’s two of them now.”

Percy leading the way, the pair of prefects walked purposely towards the rowdy compartment, and as they reached it, he slid the door open without hesitation. Coming up behind him, Cori audibly gasped and took a slight step back. The crowded compartment of what looked to be third years - mainly Gryffindors, but with a few Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws - had their wide eyes fixed on one of two things: the two prefects coming to ruin their fun, or the large tarantula currently levitating in the middle of the compartment. 

“Fred!” Percy scolded, his eyes focused on the red-haired boy with his wand currently pointing at the floating creature. Cori’s eyes found the boy as well, and as they scanned over to the boy’s identical twin on the other side of the compartment, it clicked for her. That was why the Weasley name was so familiar - of course everyone knew Charlie Weasley, the Quidditch star, but the Weasley twins were infamous. Aside from the red hair, Cori found it hard to believe that Percy was related to them. “Put that down. Now.”

A glimmer of joy quickly came into Fred Weasley’s eyes. “Whatever you say, prefect.” With one knowing look at his twin, Fred released the levitation charm he had on the tarantula, and it fell to the ground.

The crowded compartment erupted into pandemonium as the tarantula was set loose, boys and girls alike screaming and jumping onto the seats to try and get away from it. The Weasley twins were enjoying themselves, Lee Jordan was terrified he was about to lose his tarantula, Percy was furious at his brothers - but as the furry, eight-legged creature came scurrying towards her, Cori was the only one that responded appropriately. “Immobulus!”

Quiet and breaths of relief followed the Slytherin’s exclamation as the tarantula froze mere inches from her shoes. With a quiet utterance, she levitated the creature into the center of the compartment once again, looking around at the shocked third years. 

“Who does this belong to?” she said calmly, unaware that the students were now looking at her as they would look at Professor McGonagall. 

Beside the other twin, a dark-skinned boy with dreadlocks hesitantly raised his hand.

“Right,” she continued, “and who might you be?”

The boy swallowed. “Lee Jordan.”

“You are aware, Mr. Jordan, that pets allowed at Hogwarts are restricted to owls, cats, or toads?” He nodded, eyes still wide. “Is this one of those pets transfigured to look like a tarantula?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Do you have a permission slip signed by a faculty member allowing you to have this creature at Hogwarts?”

His shoulders drooping, Lee answered again, “No, ma’am.”

“Alright then,” settled Cori, her voice still very calm with a previously unknown but uncanny ability to command respect. Seeing the box in the boy’s lap, she lowered his tarantula into it and magically secured its lid before releasing the creature of her freezing charm. “You’re in Gryffindor, yes?” she asked Lee.

“Yes,” he answered with a wince, assuming he was about to lose House points before even getting to Hogwarts.

“I’ll be informing Professor McGonagall when we arrive at Hogwarts. In the meantime, please keep it in its box. I’m sure you all can find something else to occupy your time.”

As the Slytherin prefect turned away from the compartment, she didn’t take notice of the shameful look on Lee Jordan’s face, or the looks of awe on the faces of the students who had desperately tried to get away from the loose spider, or the glares on the freckled faces of the Weasley twins. When she turned to look at Percy, however, she couldn’t miss the look of sheer admiration on his face. She blushed slightly, nervously biting her bottom lip as she closed the door to the compartment and led the way further down the train.

“That was bloody brilliant!” Percy burst as he broke out of his stupor, following after her. “Forget getting used to being a prefect, you’re a natural!”

Cori reddened even more, but before she could respond - 

“Percy!”

They stopped, pivoting around to find the Weasley twins just outside of their compartment, glares still on their faces, their squinted, suspicious eyes fixed on Cori.

“What are you doing hanging around her?” seethed George.

“I beg your pardon?” Percy responded sharply, his own eyes narrowing. “She happens to be a prefect, if the two of you couldn’t see that already.”

“She’s a McMahan!” Fred exclaimed, and as the thirteen-year-old gestured angrily at her, Cori shrunk away from the Weasleys. She knew where this was going.

“What does that have to do with anything?” said Percy, the defensiveness in his voice mixing with genuine confusion.

“Her whole family’s bad news,” said George, glaring more harshly at the girl.

“Trust us, we’re in class with her brother,” said Fred.

“That’s ridicu- ” Percy started, but he stopped as he felt her brushing past him, heading back in the direction she came. “Wait, Cori!”

“It’s alright,” Cori said as she turned around to face the Weasleys. She faced the twins’ glares with a forced smile, but as her eyes found Percy’s, it softened. She shrugged, her demeanor so much less confident than it had been in the compartment. “You can’t get away from family legacy.”

#black sheep #bs #stars series #fatecanberewritten #fatecanberewritten-writer #harry potter fanfiction #percy weasley fanfiction #oc: danielle herbison #oc: cori mcmahan #percy weasley #oc: uliana elin #oc: gigi allegro #fred weasley #george weasley #lee jordan #lee jordan's tarantula

[fatecanberewritten-writer]

Black Sheep | Chapter Three: Nicknamers

Stars Series | Black Sheep

Kings Cross station was just as crowded as it had always been, but that day, it didn’t bother Percy Weasley in the slightest. Striding confidently ahead of his family with his brand new owl sitting comfortably in his cage, he didn’t think that a single thing could have bothered him. It was his first official day as a prefect.

He smiled a little to himself as he thought about it. As he glided towards the barrier between platforms nine and ten, he hardly even acknowledged the five of his eight family members walking behind him. In his mind he was alone - and he quite liked it that way. “Percy!” His mother’s piercing voice quickly brought him back to reality.

Shaking himself out of his reverie, the fifteen year old stopped, turning around to find that the rest of his family had stopped as well, though it looked as if his siblings had done it reluctantly. His mother wasn’t looking at him or any of them - with her hand still tightly holding Ginny’s, his mother was looking pensively at a young boy talking to a Muggle station guard not far away. Percy turned his cart back and went over to see what was wrong.

“What is it?” he asked curiously.

“Oh, you know,” started Fred, “Mum’s just demonstrating the art of people watching.”

As Percy rolled his eyes, his mother shushed them all. “I thought I heard that boy say ‘Hogwarts’ as we passed him.”

His ginger eyebrows furrowed as he followed his mother’s line of sight. The boy was small, but all the same he could be Ron’s age, Percy’s youngest brother who was starting at Hogwarts this year. The bespeckled boy had messy black hair and clothes that were much too big for him, but atop his cart sat a caged snowy owl. “Think he’s a Muggleborn?” Percy quipped to his mother.

“That’d be my guess,” she answered with a similar look on her face. “I wonder why he’s all alone. Where are his parents?”

“How do Muggleborns find the platform?” Ron thought aloud.

“I think they’re meant to be told when they get their letter,” the matriarch answered distractedly, her mind obviously elsewhere.

As the boy got more desperate and the guard he was talking to got more frustrated, Percy knew exactly what his mother was thinking. “Should we go and help him?” Percy asked, and as he did, he puffed his chest out a little bit, his prefect badge proudly shining from where it was pinned on the breast pocket of his Muggle shirt. He sharply turned his shoulder away from the twins as they sniggered at him.

“No, no,” Molly said quickly. “I think we’d overwhelm the poor boy. I think it’s best if we caught his attention a little more discreetly. Come on, let’s walk by him again, and follow my lead.”

So the Weasleys turned back, walked past the boy again, stopped, made themselves look busy for a moment, then restarted their trek to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. By this time the Muggle guard had walked away from the boy and he looked hopelessly deserted.

“Lovely morning, isn’t it?” their mother started casually as they started to get closer to the boy. “Percy, come on this side of me so he can see your owl,” she ordered in a whisper, and as Percy followed his mother’s instructions, her loud, causal voice returned. “The walk from the Floo was quite nice, don’t you agree? King’s Cross hasn’t changed in the slightest - packed with Muggles, of course, but that’s to be expected.”

Percy didn’t look back, but the fact that his mother had stopped talking made him assume that she had successfully caught his attention. Sure enough, if he listened hard enough, he could hear the wheels of another cart following close behind them. Leading the way again, Percy slowed to a stop not far from the barrier, and as he turned back to his family, there was the Muggleborn, standing not far behind them, listening. 

“Now, what’s the platform number?”

“Nine and three-quarters!” piped little Ginny, right on cue. “Mum, can’t I go . . .”

“You’re not old enough, Ginny, now be quiet. All right, Percy,” his mother said to him, and with her look, Percy knew that she wanted him to be an example for the lone boy. “You go first.”

With an understanding nod to his mother, Percy straightened his posture, turned his cart around, and walked confidently to the barrier, well aware of the bespeckled boy’s eyes on him. As he passed through the barrier onto Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, Percy smiled triumphantly, feeling as though he had exemplified proper prefect behavior in how he helped both his mother and that lost boy. Without looking back, he confidently strode through the crowd to the front of the Hogwarts Express to find the prefect’s carriage.

Alone once again, Percy fell back into the confident, unbothered step he had had before, catching snippets of conversations, dodging carts and running children, squeezing through the gaps in the crowds towards the scarlet steam engine - all without breaking his stride in the slightest. It wasn’t until he was actually on board, loading Hermes into one of the designated prefect compartments, that anything was able to tear his attention away - and that came in the form of the red beam of a hex nearly hitting him as he stepped out of the compartment.

He reared himself up, almost excited to administer his first punishment as a prefect, but someone beat him to it. “Maebh!” called out a stern, feminine voice.

“But Gus said - ”

“I don’t care what Gus said, do not hex your brother!”

Still recovering from nearly being hit by a stray hex, Percy blinked a couple of times and focused in on the two girls at the end of the corridor. They looked fairly similar in age though one was considerably shorter, and with their dark brown hair, dark eyes and distinctive Irish accents, they were unmistakably sisters. His eyes fixed on them, Percy hardly noticed a boy with similar dark hair slip past him towards the girls. Only then did he realize that all three of them were wearing Slytherin robes.

“What makes you think you’ve got more authority than Gus? It’s not like you’re a prefect,” the boy said as he approached the girls. Both of the girls glared at the boy, but the taller one’s face quickly fell as she noticed Percy watching them.

“Go on,” she told the both of them, pushing them away from the prefect carriages. Percy took that as his cue to leave as well, and he went off to change into his robes. By the time Cori McMahan had turned to apologize on the behalf of her siblings, he was gone.

With his Hogwarts robes and shiny red-and-gold badge, the whole thing was starting to feel more official. He walked proudly along the platform, his new robes billowing behind him as he searched for his family to give his mother and sister his last goodbyes. He found them near the very end of the train, looking up at him as he approached. He couldn’t help but notice the look of pride in his mother’s watery eyes.

“Can’t stay long, Mother,” he said as he reached the group. “I’m up front, the prefects have got two compartments to themselves - ”

“Oh, are you a prefect, Percy?” Fred cut in, a feigned surprise in his voice. “You should have said something, we had no idea.”

“Hang on, I think I remember him saying something about it,” said George, and Percy sighed, knowing exactly what was coming. “Once - ”

“Or twice - ”

“A minute - ”

“All summer - ”

“Oh, shut up,” Percy finally cracked, losing his professional demeanor.

“How come Percy gets new robes, anyway?” said George reproachfully, and all at once, Percy felt the weight of guilt fall onto his shoulders. That was the one thing he did feel bad about, especially with how it had made his younger siblings look at him. It wasn’t a secret to anyone that he and his family didn’t have much money, and while he felt he was deserving of the owl his parents had given him in honor of being made prefect, as this was what they had done for Bill and Charlie, the new robes were a bit unexpected. He had seen his mother’s face when he had pinned his badge to his faded hand-me-down robes the day he had gotten it in the mail, and while a small part of him felt the same, he would have gladly gotten used to the looks he would receive from his wealthier peers - it wasn’t anything new. Instead, his mother had splurged and he got the same looks, but this time from his brothers.

“Because he’s a prefect,” his mother said fondly, and he knew that she could not be blamed for the conflicted feeling in his chest. She had only wanted what was best for him, after all. “All right, dear, well, have a good term - send me an owl when you get there.”

His mother kissed him on the cheek, and smiling at both her and Ginny, he turned and strode back to the front of the train, trying to force the guilt from his mind.

By the time he had returned to the prefect’s carriage, it was filled with other badge-wearing students, Percy among the youngest of them. He looked around for familiar faces, but didn’t have much luck. Though it was his fifth year at Hogwarts, Percy didn’t have many friends. In previous years, he would spend nearly all of his time studying, aiding the professors, tutoring, and on occasion, spending time with his brothers (mostly Bill and Charlie - he was much too different from Fred and George to hang around them at Hogwarts). He was surprised to see that Bridget Corner had been appointed as the other fifth year Gryffindor prefect. Sure, she was sociable, exemplified by her current situation of leading a conversation with several sixth years, but she never struck him as someone that was particularly responsible. Instead of trying to insert himself into that conversation, Percy elected to sit by the door of the compartment beside a shy-looking blonde with square glasses.

“Hello,” Percy greeted, sitting beside her. She was familiar to him, and with her Ravenclaw robes he figured she was likely in the same Charms class as him, but he couldn’t place her name. “I’m Percy Weasley.”

“I know,” the girl said, crimsoning. “I mean - uh - ” she stuttered - “we’ve had some classes together - ”

“Charms, right?” Percy offered with a sympathetic smile. “I recognize you, too. What was your name again?”

With a thankful smile, she said, “Penelope Clearwater.”

“Congratulations on making prefect, Penelope, it’s really - ”

But the sight of another girl entering the compartment tore his attention away from the Ravenclaw. Though not many even acknowledged her, one of the last coming into the prefect’s carriage, Percy couldn’t stop himself from staring up at the girl he had seen earlier, reprimanding her sister. He was confused more than anything - hadn’t he overheard the girl’s brother saying she wasn’t a prefect?

The Slytherin’s golden brown eyes met the Gryffindor’s soft hazel ones for no more than a second before, with a tight smile, she turned away from him, sitting in the opposite corner by the window.

“Thank you,” Penelope said to him with the smallest hint of sadness. Though not quite picking up on this, Percy turned back to her apologetically.

With a lurch, the train departed from Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, and the first official prefect meeting of the year was underway. “Alright,” started a tall, dark haired seventh year in Gryffindor robes, standing in front of the closed compartment doors. “Looks like you’ve all managed to find your way here, so let’s get this party started, shall we?”

A slender Ravenclaw with strawberry blonde hair sighed as she took her place beside him. “Welcome back to Hogwarts everyone, I hope you’ve all had a nice, restful summer. I’m Virginia Ward, your newly appointed Head Girl.” There was a round of applause for her, complete with some cheers and congratulatory whistles from the older prefects. Smiling, Ward curtsied for them all.

“And I’m Immanuel Tanouye, long awaited Head Boy,” said the tall Gryffindor, and he received an applause just as loud as Ward���s, but with a bit more whooping from the seventh years. As Tanouye did an exaggerated bow, Percy tried his best to hide his sneer.

“Now, before we kick things off, I’d like to do a quick roll call for our newcomers to make sure we have everyone, and of course, to get everyone better acquainted,” continued Ward, pulling out a parchment from her robes. As Tanouye leaned closer to her to get a better look at the list, Percy sat up a little straighter, preparing himself. “From Ravenclaw, Penelope Clearwater and Noe Monian?”

Beside him, the ever shy Penelope Clearwater raised her hand, along with a boy sitting by Bridget Corner. Tanouye and Ward looked up at them, smiling and nodding respectively.

“From Gryffindor,” Tanouye started slowly, squinting at the parchment in the Head Girl’s hands. Percy felt his stomach lurch and sat up even more. “Bridget Corner,” he looked up at her as the brunette raised her hand, “and Perceus Weasley?”

“Percy,” Percy said automatically.

The Head Boy looked around at him with furrowed eyebrows. “What?”

“It’s just Percy,” he continued awkwardly, feeling the heavy stares of everyone around him. “Percy Weasley.”

“Right,” Tanouye said slowly. “Percy, got it.”

As the attention shifted away from him, Percy sat back, his face warming. It wasn’t at all the introduction he had been hoping for. Why had his full name been written?

The Head Girl moved on quickly, and Percy was rather thankful for that. “From Hufflepuff, Dorothy Anderson and Frank Edwards?” The fifth year Hufflepuffs made themselves known.

“And finally,” Tanouye said theatrically, taking the parchment from Ward entirely, “from Slytherin, Felix Manning and Corinna McMahan?”

“I go by Cori.”

The timid voice pulled Percy from his self-pity. With attentive eyes, he looked up and across the compartment to the girl he didn’t even think should be here - a girl with deceptively bright eyes and chocolate brown hair that had been moved just enough from her shoulder to show a green-and-silver prefect badge.

The Head Boy (and practically everyone else, though he didn’t notice) looked from the Slytherin, Cori McMahan, to the Gryffindor, Percy Weasley. “Alright,” Tanouye chuckled amusedly. “We’ve got our nicknamers: Cori and Percy. Nothing to be ashamed of,” he assured as he saw their faces paling. “There are always a couple in a class. Hell, sometimes I go by Manny.”

“No one calls you that, Immanuel,” the Head Girl deadpanned, but Percy did not laugh along with the rest of the prefects. He honestly hadn’t even heard her - his eyes were fixed on the other ‘nicknamer’.

Cori did little more than offer a half-hearted smile as those around her laughed at the antics of the Head Boy and Girl. As she looked up, her eyes met those of Percy Weasley as if there was a magnetic force willing them to do so. She was shocked to see his eyes already on her, and she knew exactly what was on his mind - how was Cori McMahan a prefect? He had been the one that her sister had nearly hexed earlier, the one who had heard her thirteen year old brother squash any authority she had tried to convince herself she had. She had seen the way he had looked at her as she walked into the compartment.

But that wasn’t what Percy was thinking at all. He was thinking that of all the other prefects in this compartment, and certainly of all the other fifth years, he was probably most like his fellow nicknamer. He offered her a smile, and felt a warmth in his chest as she returned it.

#black sheep #bs #stars series #fatecanberewritten #fatecanberewritten-writer #harry potter fanfiction #percy weasley fanfiction #percy weasley #molly weasley #fred weasley #george weasley #ron weasley #ginny weasley #harry potter #oc: cori mcmahan #oc: maebh mcmahan #oc: paddy mcmahan #oc: immanuel tanouye #oc: virginia ward #oc: bridget corner #oc: frank edwards #oc: dorothy anderson #oc: noe monian #penelope clearwater #oc: felix manning #hermes the owl #hedwig the owl

[fatecanberewritten-writer]

Black Sheep | Chapter Two: Little Miss Prefect

Stars Series | Black Sheep

She took a deep, labored breath and forced herself to look at her reflection, and to her relief, she still looked remarkably the same. Same chocolate brown hair settling like waves over her shoulders, same deceptively bright golden brown eyes, same thin, nimble fingers that shook slightly as she subconsciously smoothed over her robes. The only thing that was even remotely different was the shiny badge pinned to the breast of her robes, a silver serpent curling around a very prominent ‘P’.

A pounding on the bathroom door made her jump, tearing her out of an almost trance-like state.

“Would you hurry up?” her sister called aggressively, and though there was a door that separated the two of them, she always managed to sound like she was right next to her. “There are other people in this house that have to get ready, you know!”

With a slight eye roll, Cori McMahan spared herself one more glance in the mirror, moved her hair to cover her badge, and pulled the bathroom door open.

“Finally!” Maebh drawled as soon as the door was opened. Cori stood a good two inches taller than her sister, but it still felt like a steam roller when the small girl pushed past her into the cramped bathroom. 

“Merlin!” Cori gasped, the air nearly being knocked out of her. “It’s only nine thirty, Maebh. What’s with the urgency?”

“She’s trying to pretty herself up for Lucian Bole,” said a deep voice that she was still having trouble recognizing. Halfway in the bathroom, she turned her head to the right and had to look up slightly to meet the eyes of her youngest sibling. At the beginning of the summer, Padraig had been as small as Maebh with a young, boyish voice to match. Now, it looked as though the thirteen-year-old had been put through a stretcher and his voice had gone down a whole octave. “Too bad that volcano of a pimple on her forehead won’t be easy to cover up.”

Though it was aimed for her brother, Cori had to press herself against the wall to dodge the hex of her sister’s. She opened her mouth to scold her, knowing she’d have to get used to the responsibility, but was thankful when someone else beat her to it.

“Hey!” a voice boomed from the dark hallway. Cori watched as her sister’s face paled and a smirk arose on her brother’s, but Gustave’s sharp eyes were fixed on both of them as he emerged from the hallway. “How many times do I have to tell you not to use magic in the house? D’you want Mum to get another warning from the Ministry?”

Maebh’s shoulders slumped. “No,” she said in a quiet voice. Though Gus was only a year and a half older than Cori, he’d always seemed to command a sort of parent-like respect from his younger siblings.

“Good,” Gus continued in a calmer voice, eyes scanning over to see the sneer on the youngest’s face. “Wait an hour and a half until we’re on the train, then you’re welcome to hex the living hell out of Paddy. I’m sure he deserves it.”

Very quickly, Padraig’s face paled and Maebh took up the smirk he had dropped. Panic stricken, Padraig looked helplessly from Gus to Cori, and when he found that neither looked keen on helping him, he dove into an apology to Maebh. 

Ignoring the thirteen-year-old’s groveling, Cori looked up at her older brother. She felt color drain from her own face when she noticed how his eyes were fixed on the badge she hadn’t realized had been exposed. Quickly, she brushed her hair over it again, but at that point, it was too late. Gus caught her eye, and with an almost sympathetic look, nodded in the direction he had come. Hesitantly, Cori followed him away from the bickering of the two youngest.

They walked together until they were both out of earshot and out of view of the others. Only then did Gus stop again, turning to his sister with his arms crossed over his chest. Cowering back slightly, Cori tried to look as innocent as possible. 

“So,” Gus started casually, “when were you gonna tell us?”

Cori bit the inside of her cheek, tugging at the ends of her hair, making sure that the badge was covered again. “I don’t know - ”

With an eye roll, Gus swiped his wand at her, blowing her hair back from her shoulders and revealing her prefect’s badge. 

“Hey!” Cori exclaimed. “Practice what you preach, Gus!”

He rolled his eyes again, though he put his wand away. “Two days ‘til I’m of age - ”

“Then you can wait, can’t you?” she retorted with a cocked eyebrow, her tone playful. Of her five siblings, Cori had always been closest with Gus.

“It’s not a big - ” Gus started, flustered, but he quickly stopped, realizing what his sister was doing. “Don’t change the subject! Why didn’t you tell us you were made prefect?”

Cori tried to make herself as small as possible, her brief confidence ebbing away again. Looking away from her brother, she mumbled an explanation.

“Say that again?”

“I didn’t think anyone would care,” she said a little louder. 

She felt guilt flood her as she saw the hurt expression on Gus’s face. “Why would you think that?”

“Well,” she started awkwardly, “no one else in the family’s ever been a prefect - no one’s even expressed interest in it - ”

“What, you think just because Isaac, Mattie and I weren’t prefects that we wouldn’t be proud of you for being one?”

Cori said nothing because she didn’t think he’d react well to her saying yes, yes exactly that. Gus may be able to put his pride aside, but she had never known her two oldest siblings to be able to do that. She could hear the sneer of her older sister now - little miss prefect, thinks she’s so much better than the rest of us. Matilda McMahan was a lot of things, but supportive was not one of them.

She was pulled from her thoughts as Gus put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “This is something to celebrate, Cori! It’s a huge achievement, and I, for one, couldn’t be more proud of you.”

A small but genuine smile broke out across Cori’s face. 

“And I know that everyone else is gonna feel the exact same way,” he continued.

Her smile quickly fell. “Please, Gus, can we not tell them?”

His eyebrows furrowed. “Do you really think you can hide it from everyone? Maebh and Padraig will find out at Hogwarts - ”

“I don’t care about Maebh and Paddy - ”

“ - and you know the first thing Maebh’s going to do when she finds out is write home about it.”

“That’s fine,” Cori responded a little too quickly. She swallowed nervously at his look of confusion, knowing she owed him an explanation. She lowered her voice to almost a whisper. “I just don’t want to be here when - when they find out.”

His immediate reaction was to refute her, to assure her that Isaac and Matilda would be just as proud as he was, but he caught himself just as he was opening his mouth. Though he had never really understood it, he knew that there had always been a disconnect between Cori and the eldest McMahans, something unspoken yet undisputed. Who was he to force her to tell them about this? “But,” he started, and Cori sucked in a breath, “what about Mum?”

Cori looked down, almost ashamed. She hadn’t even thought about telling her mother. “I don’t know. . .”

“Come on, you really don’t think finding out one of her children was made prefect would make her happy?”

“Nothing really makes her happy anymore.”

She hadn’t realized she had said that out loud until she saw Gus’s chin fall to his chest, his shoulders slumping. For a while, a solemn silence hung around the siblings, only to be broken a minute or so later by Matilda’s voice downstairs, calling out that it was time to leave.

Taking a deep breath, Cori took a step toward the stairs but was stopped by Gus’s outstretched arm. “Put it away, then,” he said in a low voice.

Cori was caught off guard. “What?”

“Your badge,” he clarified. “Maebh and Paddy may not have noticed it, but Mattie and Isaac are a lot more observant. If you don’t want them to know, put it away.”

Slowly, as if shocked, Cori followed his reluctant advice. She offered him a soft smile, though it didn’t reach her deceptively bright eyes. “Thank you, Gus.”

He nodded, and she turned away, but before she could get too far, he called out, “Hey, Cori?” Almost to the stairs, she turned back to face him. “You’re gonna make a great prefect.”

#black sheep #bs #stars series #fatecanberewritten #fatecanberewritten-writer #harry potter fanfiction #percy weasley fanfiction #oc: cori mcmahan #oc: maebh mcmahan #oc: paddy mcmahan #oc: gus mcmahan #oc: mattie mcmahan

[fatecanberewritten-writer]

Avenger | Chapter One: The Replacement

Stars Series | Avenger

It was still dark when she woke. Gently, so as not to let the old bunk bed creak with her movement, she rolled over and glanced at the alarm clock below. The thin hand was still two minutes out, but it was inching ever closer to five in the morning. With a small dose of rushing anxiety, she quietly moved towards the ladder at the end of bed, hoping to beat the alarm. There was no need to wake her sister.

Careful to step over the squeaky floorboard at the base of the bed, she turned off the alarm with thirty seconds to spare. The blonde head of her sister lay with her back to her, undisturbed. She let out the breath she was holding.

Light on her feet, she grabbed a hair tie, warm clothes, as well as the camouflage gear she had set out the night before, and glided into the hallway, scampering across it to the bathroom. Only there did she finally feel like she could breathe. 

In a house of ten, this was the first time the eight year old had ever seen it quiet, and she didn’t dare to disturb it. She dressed quickly, brushed her teeth, and braided her thick brown hair so it lay against her back aligned with her spine. When she had finished, she looked at herself in the mirror and smiled. She’s been waiting for this day. She placed the hat her father had given her upon her head and made her way out of the bathroom.

Stepping back out into the hallway, she froze as she saw the door to her room standing ajar - hadn’t she closed it? With furrowed eyebrows, she crept over and peered into the room, and was slightly put off to find her sister’s bed empty. The thought left her mind as she heard bits of tense whispers down below, muffled by the old floorboards. Cautiously, she grabbed hold of the bannister and peered down the stairs. She was only slightly surprised to see her sister sitting near the bottom, her back to her, so she could only really see her blonde hair and the back of her pink pajamas.

“Tessa,” she whispered as she quietly approached her sister, trying not to startle her. Tessa didn’t flinch in the slightest.

“They’re fighting about you,” was all she responded with, not even turning to greet her twin as she sat beside her, the camo clashing greatly against the pink pajamas.

Neither of them said anything as they listened to the tense whispers of their parents, their ears pressed to the wall of the stairs that bordered their parents’ room.

“She’s too young, Frank!” came their mother’s tired, determined voice. With the slight cooing accompanying her words, the twins could see her now, pacing slightly, bouncing little Otis, the youngest, on her hip. 

“She’s not too young,” assured their father. “I was just about her age when I first went out with my father.”

“Why can’t you take Irving instead?” their mother whined.

“Anne, you and I both know that Irving has no interest in hunting - Frankie does!”

“Only because you instilled it in her since birth!” Anne venomously bit back. Frank was quiet. “She’s not him, you know. No matter how much you try to shape her into him, she’s her own person. You can’t keep expecting her to replace him.”

Ears ringing, Frankie didn’t hear her father’s response, if there even was one. She knew, of course, that she was named after her late, eldest brother, but she had always thought that it was to honor his memory, not to continue it. She was frozen, unsure of how to breathe, how to blink, how to think. She didn’t know what to think, how to react - but she jumped as she felt her sister’s warm hand close around her own.

The next thing she knew, the figure of her father was at the bottom of the stairs, as if he had always been there. “Frankie,” he called up, his warm brown eyes fixed on her. The look they held was different. For a moment, no one said a word, the three of them frozen in time. And then - “It’s time.”

There was a softness to the dark as the father-daughter pair stepped through the fallen leaves of the forest, the ground damp with the morning dew. The silence between them was expected, but much heavier than they once thought. Frankie was acutely aware of it, her mind heavy with the thoughts of what she had overheard, but her father tried to ignore it. He was never the best at confrontation.

“I think here’s as good a place as any,” Frank said lowly to his daughter, a step or two behind him. His forced smile fell slightly as she stopped, still a few feet between the two of them. This was meant to be enjoyable for the both of them, a time of bonding - this was the first time that Frank Zelmar, the most accredited hunting guide in all of Devon, had taken one of his children out hunting with him - and while this wasn’t the child he initially saw this moment occurring with, he was glad to have Frankie by his side. Then her mother went and put unnecessary thoughts in her head.

By the time the darkness had given way to the soft pink hue of the rising sun, Frank and Frankie had settled in. Their hunting weapons were loaded and ready, eyes alert, yet there was still a thick silence between them - a silence that was weighing more and more on Frank with each passing minute. Finally, he couldn’t take it. “Frankie, about what you overheard this morning - ”

“It’s alright, Dad,” responded the eight year old. “Tessa and I shouldn’t have been listening in, anyway.”

Frank opened his mouth to reply, but as Frankie turned away, he let his lips close, the silence hanging between them like a thick curtain.

Without looking at him, Frankie spoke again, her warm breath coming out in clouds in front of her nose. “When do the stags normally come out?” 

She wasn’t sure when, but their positions had changed - now all Frankie wanted was her hunting lesson, and Frank had trouble keeping his mind on it. “Should be out any minute now,” he answered habitually, watching his daughter’s profile as she looked out across the forest. “Frankie - ”

“Really, Dad, it’s okay - ”

“Let me finish, love,” he cut in softly. “I just wanted to say that I’m glad that you’re out here with me. There’s no one else I’d rather have by my side.”

The silence returned. They both knew he was lying.

With a swelling of emotion, Frankie closed her eyes for a moment. With a sharp inhale she opened them, and her soft brown eyes met the man that had given them to her. She’s never seen him look like this before - so vulnerable. He’s only ever been the hunter, yet now he had the eyes of the prey. “What was he like?” she said, swallowing hard.

His eyes only widened. “Who?” he said, but they both knew who.

“Frankie.”

The name hung in the air for no more than a second before Franklin and Francesca Zelmar’s attention was snapped forward at the smallest snapping of a branch. Both raised their weapons, and though Frank was the more seasoned hunter, it was Frankie that had her finger on the trigger, ready to shoot. This would be it - her first kill. She may not have been the child her father had wanted to follow in his footsteps, but she’d be damned if she didn’t excel. 

“Hang on,” came her father’s voice in her ear, his gloved hand gently placed over top the barrel of the rifle, lowering it. “That’s no stag.”

And, feeling the air emptying out of her lungs, Frankie saw that her father was right. It wasn’t a deer emerging from the brush across the forest - it was a pale young boy in a dark green cloak, a strange looking broomstick resting atop his shoulder.

#avenger #stars series #fatecanberewritten #fatecanberewritten-writer #harry potter fanfiction #cedric diggory fanfiction #ao3 fanfiction #wattpad fanfiction #oc: frankie zelmar #oc: tessa zelmar #oc: frank zelmar #oc: anne zelmar #oc: otis zelmar #cedric diggory

[fatecanberewritten-writer]

Bewitched | Chapter Four: Magic

Stars Series | Bewitched

For some reason, what Narcissa took notice of in that situation was the fact that she could see her breath. It was like a cold, bitter goodbye to summer. A cold, bitter goodbye to a lot of things.

“What d’you mean, you know about magic already?”

She could also see the breath of the wandless woman standing before her. Her blue eyes still wide and fixed on Narcissa, the woman opened her mouth, but didn’t seem to know what to say. Narcissa gripped the wand held at her side more tightly.

The empty sound of rain was suddenly broken by loud voices approaching the alley. In her fright, Narcissa grabbed the woman, put her hand over her mouth in case she decided to make any noises, and Disapparated the two of them to a rooftop on the other side of the street.

Crouching behind the walled edge of the rooftop, she carefully peered down onto the street. She let out a breath of relief as she saw only the four rowdy men from Young Buck’s loudly walking through the rain. She felt herself relax, but then she felt how tense the woman she was holding was, and how fearful her eyes now looked as she met them. Slowly, she removed her hand from her mouth.

“Sorry,” Narcissa breathed. She figured she’d have to obliviate her now anyway, even if she had somehow known about magic.

Petunia Evans seemed to know exactly what she was thinking. “Please don’t obliviate me,” she pleaded. “I really do know about magic - my sister’s a witch.”

For a while, the two only stared at each other, neither having any clue of what to do next. Finally, Narcissa scrunched her eyes closed, let out a heavy sigh, and fell back, sitting with her back pressed against the walled edge of the roof next to Petunia. Petunia let out the breath she had been holding.

Eyes still closed, Narcissa swirled her wand, and Petunia watched in amazement as a clear, shimmering, force-field-like magic formed around the small space the two of them took up, shielding them from the rain. Curiously, she inched her fingertips towards it - daring to touch it, yet still afraid to. As she got closer and closer to it, the air seemed warmer, and the molecules around it seemed to hum. She brought her hand back quickly as she heard the blonde woman scoff.

“If you ‘know about magic already,’ why are you looking like this is the first time you’ve seen it?” Narcissa in a tired voice, though there was still a bit of harshness in it. 

Petunia’s eyes were doe-like when she looked at Narcissa. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen it,” she said. “My sister’s still in school, and she can’t use magic outside of it. Something about your laws - ”

Narcissa sighed, catching on. “Ah, yes, underage magic. I forgot how serious that can be if you’re around Muggles.” She took another deep breath, looking back down at the street momentarily before she finally turned back to the Muggle, giving her a haughty look. “So you’re a Mudblood’s sister?”

Petunia’s eyes narrowed a bit, recognizing the term. “I don’t think they like to be called that.”

Narcissa shrugged. “It’s what they are,” she said casually. “They’ve got dirty blood.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Petunia’s face was getting hot, “neither my sister nor I have ‘dirty blood.’”

“Magic is pure,” the witch cut in coldly. She spoke these words as if she was just stating facts. “Those without magic, or those who come from people without magic, are not pure. Now tell me, what would you consider to be the opposite of pure?”

“That’s rich, coming from somebody who’s apparently making her family the laughing stock of Pureblood society,” Petunia angrily snapped.

Narcissa’s face darkened, her eyes narrowing at the Muggle. “Eavesdropping on me, were you?” she hissed. “You’re not giving a very good representation of your kind.”

“Neither are you,” growled Petunia, glaring back. Her eyes widened again, her face paling, as she watched the woman swiftly take out her wand.

“You be careful now,” Narcissa warned, “I can do a lot worse than obliviating you.”

Petunia was silent as she stared at the end of the witch’s dark-wooded wand, a wand that was much more intricate, much more regal-looking than Lily’s. As she watched it, her fear slowly ebbed away, and she carefully looked back up at Narcissa with a daring gleam in her eye. “You’re not going to do anything,” she challenged.

Narcissa’s grip tightened on her wand. “Oh yeah?” she responded, trying to hide the shakiness of her voice. “What makes you so sure?”

“You would’ve done it already,” Petunia answered matter-of-factly, a small smirk across her lips. “A witch like you coming across a Muggle like me? You wouldn’t’ve brought me up here with you. You wouldn’t’ve even lowered your wand. If you were like the rest of them, you’d’ve obliviated me, or worse, right then and there. You’re not like them. You’re not a - ” she paused for a moment, trying to remember the term her sister had told her just this last summer - “you’re not a Death Eater.”

Narcissa was silent, utterly transfixed by this woman and her observations. She knew about magic, alright - a lot more than more than what she figured the sister of a Mudblood would. She was daring, a bit reckless, and definitely over-confident, but more than anything, she was brave. Somehow, this Muggle saw right through her, and Narcissa couldn’t deny the comforting feeling that came with her last musing. You’re not a Death Eater.

She didn’t know when she had put down her wand, but she quickly took notice of the cocky look on the Muggle’s face. She could practically hear her saying check mate. “Alright,” Narcissa gave in, “you’re right about that, I’m not a Death Eater - ” the smug look on the brunette’s face only grew - “but don’t think I won’t still obliviate you. Might just do it ‘cause you’re annoying me.”

Petunia’s face instantly fell, and Narcissa smirked victoriously. The witch chuckled a bit, though it wasn’t dark or unsettling to Petunia. It was almost playful. She started to smile.

With a sudden crack, the moment was ruined.

Both girls nearly yelped at the sound, but the yelp threatened to turn to a horrified scream as Petunia saw what had appeared before them. Narcissa was quick with her wand, silencing the girl before she drew them too much attention.

“Litzy,” Narcissa said calmly, addressing the small, frantic House Elf that had joined them on the roof.

“Mistress Narcissa must hurry!” squeaked the Elf. “My Master and Mistress have returned! My mother can only stall them for so long! Mistress Narcissa must return home immediately!”

“Shit,” Narcissa cursed. She thought she’d have more time. She looked from Litzy to the wide-eyed woman beside her and tried to think quickly. Almost reluctantly, she removed the silencing charm from the woman.

“What the hell - ”

“Hush!” she ordered Petunia, and out of shock, Petunia obeyed. Narcissa turned back to the Elf. “Litzy, I want you to take this woman back down to the street.”

“Now hang on just a - ” 

Narcissa ignored the Muggle as she tired to cut in. “This is a Muggle street, so you must stay out of sight. There is an alley halfway up the block - take her there.”

The Elf’s large, green eyes flickered over to the woman hesitantly. When she spoke next, it was reluctant, as if she feared punishment for it. “Is the woman a Muggle, Mistress?”

Swallowing, Narcissa looked at Petunia and said nothing.

“Would Mistress Narcissa like Litzy to modify the Muggle’s memory?”

“No!” shouted Petunia, and at the same time, with almost the same amount of fever -

“That won’t be necessary, Litzy.”

The young, nervous House Elf looked between the two women as they stared nervously at one another. She was reminded, very suddenly, of her disowned Mistress, the one she was forbidden to speak of, and the Mudblood that had ruined her.

As if knowing what Litzy was thinking, a wave of fear washed over Narcissa, and she sharply turned back to the Elf. “Litzy,” she started rabidly. “You are forbidden to speak of this to anyone. To anyone, do you understand?”

A fearful look in her eye, Litzy nodded.

“Now do as you’ve been ordered.”

Obediently, Litzy began to move towards Petunia, and Petunia cowered further against the wall, looking frantically at the witch. The magic protecting them from the rain disappeared. “Wait!” Petunia cried to Narcissa. She wasn’t just going to leave her with this thing, was she?

“It’s alright,” Narcissa soothed, placing a delicate hand on her shoulder. Petunia felt butterflies at her touch. “She has to do as I say,” she told her. “She’ll take care of you, but - but I have to go.”

Before Petunia got even the slightest chance to say anything more, Narcissa stood, and with no more than a crack, she was gone. The rain pouring down on her, Petunia stared at the spot the witch had last been, feeling her heart breaking as she realized she’d probably never see her again.

The Elf begrudgingly reached out to touch the girl, and with no warning at all, Petunia felt herself being pulled through the nothingness of space and landed roughly on the grimy, wet concrete of the alley. She felt sick, but whether it was from the alcohol, the magic, or the cold touch of the strangest creature she’d ever seen in her life, she wasn’t sure. She looked up into the glaring green eyes of the creatures called ‘Litzy’.

“Stay away from my Mistress,” growled the creature, and then she too, was gone.

#bewitched #stars series #fatecanberewritten #fatecanberewritten-writer #harry potter fanficion #marauders era fanfiction #marauders era #harry potter rarepairs #rarepairs #narcissa black x petunia evans #narcissa x petunia #narcissa black #petunia evans #oc: arthur baker #oc: roger james #oc: larry bryant #oc: terry taylor #oc: litzy the house elf

[fatecanberewritten-writer]

Avenger | Cedric Diggory

Frankie Zelmar had a lot to live up to. With the pressure of trying to stand out as the middle child of nine, of trying to distinguish her individuality in a world that refused to see her as anything other than one half of a matched set, of trying to be someone for her father, someone that was long gone - she needed something to give. She needed him.

Cedric Diggory had a bright future. From a young age, the boy had talent, potential, intelligence - by only eight, the young boy was showing promise of becoming a powerful wizard that would take the world by storm. And no one was routing for him more than she was.

But as the Triwizard Tournament comes to its fateful end, the wizarding world loses the promising wizard meant to take it by storm, and gains a young girl with nothing to lose, bringing the storm upon them.

Read on AO3; read on Wattpad.

Stars Series

PART I | CEDRIC

Chapter One: The Replacement

#avenger #stars series #fatecanberewritten #fatecanberewritten-writer #harry potter fanfiction #cedric diggory fanfiction #ao3 fanfiction #wattpad fanfiction

[fatecanberewritten-writer]

Bewitched | Chapter Three: Shandy

Stars Series | Bewitched

By her third glass of cheap wine, she was about ready to burn the letter. 

Only the buzzing light in the kitchen lit the single-room flat. Petunia Evans sat on the floor, leaning against the mattress the room had come with, listening to the growing storm outside, swirling the last bit of wine in her plastic wine glass, and staring spitefully at her sister’s letter. Her lighter was in her other hand.

Though she hadn’t read many of her sister’s letters as of late, she had never before burned one, and though they had parted this summer on bad terms, Petunia wasn’t sure if she was ready to burn that bridge. She felt numb as she sat her wine glass down, picked up the unopened letter, and brought the lighter to the bottom corner of it.

Her thumb hovered over the sparkwheel, but her eyes were focused on the scrawl on the envelope. All that was on it was her name. No address, no stamp, no return address (why would they need any of that? Somehow, owls just knew.) Her name was written in perfect cursive - of course it was. Everything about Lily Evans was perfect.

Her sister was a witch born into a non-magical family, but somehow she made Petunia look like the defective one. Of course, she never did that consciously - no, because Lily Evans was perfect. Such a kind, innocent girl with high morals. Their parents’ favorite. Her father always said he didn’t have a favorite child, but her mother had no shame in admitting it. Why can’t you be more like your sister?

At this thought, she pressed her thumb against the sparkwheel, a low growl coming from deep within her throat, but in a single moment, a clear thought worked its way past her rage, and she flung the lighter across the room. She couldn’t do it. Despite it all - despite her mother constantly degrading her, despite her sorrowful wonderings of why it hadn’t been her - Petunia cared deeply about her sister. She wasn’t about to throw it all away in a moment of drunken rage.

But she couldn’t bring herself to open the letter, either. She stood, put the new letter with the others in her bedside drawer, grabbed her coat and an umbrella, and left.

She opened her umbrella, stepped out into the street and just walked. She had no idea where she would go - she only ever seemed to be at her job or her apartment - but she had to put distance between her and that letter before she did something rash. So, Petunia hastened out to the main street and walked along it for several blocks. Eventually, the rain and wind had gotten bad enough that she felt puddles in her shoes, so she decided she’d better find some shelter. That shelter came in the form of an average-looking pub on a corner called Young Buck’s.

Laughter erupted as she entered the pub and she paused in the midst of closing her umbrella, looking contentiously around her. The group of men that had rowdily laughed seemed to have taken no notice of her at all. The four of them sat at a table to the right of the bar, and it looked as though one of them had spilled beer on his shirt. She let out a breath of relief as she realized they had not laughed at her at all - it had all just been bad timing.

A man in his mid twenties with light brown hair and kind eyes came out from behind the bar, giving the men a towel before his eyes set on Petunia. “Evenin’,” he greeted brightly. Petunia had never seen a bartender who seemed to love his job as much as this one. He moved back to the bar. “There’s an umbrella stand on the other side of the coat rack, you’re welcome to use both.”

While she turned sheepishly to discard her umbrella and coat, Petunia felt oddly comfortable in this pub, which was strange because Petunia didn’t exactly feel comfortable anywhere. She’d always been an anxious person, and she wondered what it was about this place that put her at ease. She remembered the wine she’d had before she had left her flat.

Keeping her distance from the group of men, Petunia made her way up to the bar, sitting in the middle of it. The bartender, drying a glass, gave her another friendly smile, which she returned. “What can I get you, miss?”

“I - um - ” Petunia started, looking flustered. At eighteen, this was the first time she’d ever come to a bar alone, and she suddenly couldn’t think of a single drink. “Could I get - ” she could feel her face reddening - “could I get a beer mixed with lemonade?”

The bartender chuckled. “A shandy? ‘Course.”

Petunia kicked herself when she heard the name of the drink. It had been on the tip of her tongue, and she felt stupid now, not having known it.

“New to the bar scene?” the bartender continued as he began to make her drink.

“Is it that obvious?” Petunia grimaced.

He shrugged, laughing lightheartedly. “Nothing to be ashamed of. And it’s better to start with a shandy than something harder. Let me take a stab at it - you nicked some of your parents’ beer when you were young, didn’t like the taste, so you added lemonade?”

At his words, Petunia could almost feel the rooftop beneath her. She had been the older one at sixteen, but it had been Lily, only fourteen, who had gotten ahold of their parent’s alcohol. She could still see the look on her face as she extended the bottle out to her like an olive branch. “I don’t want that if you used magic to get it,” Petunia had said sharply.

“Oh, come on Tuney, you know I can’t use magic outside of school,” Lily had responded with a laugh. To this day, Petunia still had a clear image of her sister that night, the sunset seeming to set her auburn hair ablaze, her kind face so full of life. She’d always been jealous of her sister’s looks.

Petunia had been reluctant to take the beer from her sister, but eventually she did, and Lily sat beside her on their roof, shoulder to shoulder. She had wanted to snap at her, asking her why she wasn’t with that Spinner’s End boy, but something about the moment had stopped her. All animosities were at a standstill, and even if it was just for that one moment, they were just sisters.

They had opened the beers simultaneously, bringing the bottles to their lips together, and nearly spat it out at the same time, their scrunched faces more similar than they ever had been. 

“Oh, that’s awful.”

“Why do people drink this stuff?”

“It needs something. Something to hide the taste.”

“Lemonade?”

“Ah, the discovery of shandy,” the bartender mused, sliding eighteen-year-old Petunia her drink. Shaking off the memory, she gave him a shy smile and took a small sip of her drink.

Petunia tried not to think of much at all as she drank her shandy. That memory had snuck up on her and left her feeling unsteady - she didn’t want to think about her sister at all, not in a good light nor a bad one. That was why she had come to London in the first place, to distance herself from all of that, to finally focus on herself instead of her conflicted feelings towards her family. She took no notice of a couple that entered the pub, but, with her glass nearly empty, she was pulled out of her thoughts as a woman came in.

“Gin and tonic, please,” she told the bartender, leaning against the bar not far from Petunia. She couldn’t help herself from gawking at the woman - the very air around her seemed different than everyone else in the pub. She looked like a noblewoman to Petunia, like a duchess wearing a disguise so she could see how the lower class lived. Her soft brown hair was hardly even wet, though the rain was still thundering down. She obviously hadn’t been outside long. 

Slowly the woman turned towards Petunia, and the second her wide brown eyes met her own, Petunia looked back down at her glass, embarrassed. 

“Should I open a tab for you, miss?” the bartender asked the woman, handing her her gin and tonic. Petunia thought that her drink fit the woman well, both seeming very aristocratic to Petunia, who could hardly afford the shandy.

“No, but the person I’ll be meeting will take a shandy when she gets here,” she answered.

For a brief moment, Petunia stopped fiddling with her glass, looking up just in time to see the look the bartender shot her way. She smiled nervously at him, then turned her head just slightly to watch the woman walk away from the bar, settling herself into a secluded booth in the back.

Petunia spent the next few minutes trying to understand why the woman was so intriguing to her. She was beautiful, there was no denying that, but that’s not quite what drew her attention to her. There was something about her, something mystical.

Her stomach dropped as the thought occurred to her. Was it possible that the woman was like her sister? But it couldn’t be - from what she’d heard from Lily, most high society witches, which this woman undoubtedly would be, wouldn’t go near a place as Muggle as this.

“Al!”

Petunia had been too immersed in her thoughts to have heard the bell on the door chime, but the booming male voice behind her definitely caught her attention. She sat up straighter and looked around at the man approaching the bar. The first thing she noticed was his receding hairline.

“Will!” the bartender happily responded, moving closer to greet the man. Only a stool stood between her and this Will, who was radiating heat despite the freezing rain outside. Petunia awkwardly shifted in her seat.

Petunia tried her hardest not to eavesdrop on this conversation, but with how close they were to her and how loudly they were speaking, she was forced to hear every word of the bartender and Will’s conversation. They were apparently brothers-in-law, Will married to the bartender’s sister, who was eight months pregnant.

“Have you thought of any names yet?” the bartender, Al, asked.

“Haven’t narrowed it down, but we’re thinking something starting with an ‘O’,” answered Will. He seemed to be very excited to become a father, but Al seemed even more excited to become an uncle. “Something like Oscar.”

“What about Olen? That was our grandfather’s name.”

With the sound of the bell chiming on the door, Petunia didn’t get to hear Will’s opinion on the name Olen. The entire pub went silent, everyone’s attention keenly focused on the figure in the doorway.

As Petunia turned to the doorway, her breath caught in her throat. If the woman who ordered the gin and tonic was beautiful, then there were absolutely no words Petunia could use to describe this new woman. She was angelic. As her blonde hair fell out of her jacket as she pulled her hood off, Petunia thought that she was the sun itself. A shining light in the darkness.

The woman’s blue eyes flickered over the room, and though it was only a split second, her gaze met Petunia’s, and she felt a wave of nerves wash over her. The moment passed very quickly, her eyes settling on the woman in the secluded booth. She rushed past Petunia to her.

“Got another shandy drinker,” Al said offhandedly to Petunia, catching her off guard. Noticing this, Al smirked as he finished making the blonde woman’s drink. He smiled smugly at Petunia before he made his way over to the pub’s newest arrival.

Though the two women looked very serious, Petunia caught sight of the woman’s smile as she thanked Al for the drink, and she felt absolutely bewitched. 

“Some might call it fate.” The bartender had spoken this so softly as he passed Petunia again that she almost didn’t catch it. She looked up at him abruptly, but he was already back to his casual conversation with his brother-in-law. The pub’s atmosphere went back to normal.

Petunia was trying desperately to listen into the women’s conversation, though with Al and Will talking loudly, the group of men getting rowdier by the minute, and an argument breaking out between the couple sitting by the window, Petunia was having a difficult time hearing them. It didn’t help that they were talking in very hushed voices. 

She watched them from the corner of her eye. She couldn’t quite place their relationship to one another - they sat closely and had hugged when they had seen each other, but that could be so many things. They looked similar enough to be related, so Petunia settled her mind, calling them sisters. This was confirmed when Petunia picked up the word ‘Mum’.

But it was another word that nearly caused her heart to stop. Pureblood. Petunia tried to convince herself that she had misheard them, that maybe they had said ‘purebred’ or something like that, maybe talking about dogs, but she knew it wasn’t that. The blonde woman had said the word ‘Pureblood,’ a word Petunia had only ever heard Lily and that Snape boy use. Her assumption about the brunette woman had been correct, she was - they both were - witches.

The arguing couple left, making it a little easier for Petunia to overhear the witches.

“An infertile, a Blood Traitor and a lesbian?” she heard the blonde woman saying. “They’d be the laughing stock of Pureblood society. The damage is done with the two of you, so they’re focusing their attention on me.”

A silence ensued between the two of them, the brunette looking shocked, the blonde looking angry. Petunia watched in amazement as the blonde picked up her full drink, raised it in the air, then downed the entire thing in one go. She had to keep her mouth from falling open.

Her mind fuzzy, Petunia got Al’s attention and ordered another drink.

She was sufficiently intoxicated by the time the women stood from their booth and made their way towards the door. She pulled out her wallet, quickly counting out the money she owed for the drinks.

“Leaving so soon?” Al questioned with raised eyebrows, his eyes flicking to the door as the witches left. 

Petunia gave him a look, tilting her chin down. “Yes,” she answered him firmly.

Al innocently raised his hands. “Alright,” he said in a playful manner. “Your life, your decisions.”

As Petunia watched him, her scowled morphed into a smile. She wanted to tell him that she’d be back, but he seemed to already know. Petunia hopped off her stool, her balance a bit off, but she quickly regained it, grabbing her coat and stepping back out into the rain.

“You forgot your - ” Al tried to call after her, but she was already gone.

“So what do they do? What do they do when someone like me sees magic?”

“Nothing. You know about magic because of me, so they wouldn’t do anything.”

The words were echoing through her head as she stumbled through the rain after the witches. This sudden memory was just as unwanted as the last one, but Petunia couldn’t find the willpower to push it out of her mind.

“You know what I mean. Say I didn’t have a witch for a sister and someone did magic in front of me. What would they do to keep their secret?”

She could almost see the uneasy look that had overtaken her sister’s face after she had said this. In the darkness and rain, she nearly missed it as the witches turned sharply into an alley. Petunia walked slowly to the opening, stopping just short of it, trying her hardest to listen to them.

“They would obliviate you.”

Petunia heard a loud crack and, thinking she missed them, stepped into the alley.

Hands raised, Petunia stood frozen before the blonde woman, her wand drawn and only inches from Petunia’s nose.

“No, please,” she started desperately. “You don’t need to obliviate me. I know all about magic already.”

Narcissa was silent, but slowly, she lowered her wand.

#bewitched #stars series #fatecanberewritten #fatecanberewritten-writer #harry potter fanfiction #marauders era fanfiction #marauders era #harry potter rarepair #rarepair #narcissa black x petunia evans #narcissa x petunia #petunia evans #oc: arthur baker #oc: roger james #oc: larry bryant #oc: terry taylor #oc: alan reed #oc: ruth nelson #oc: usman chandpuri #andromeda tonks #oc: william gray #narcissa black

[fatecanberewritten-writer]

Bewitched | Chapter Two: Out

Stars Series | Bewitched

The clouds were just beginning to part when the owl tapped on her window. 

Andromeda Tonks looked up at the sound with relief - she had been trying, for no less than twenty minutes, to detangle her four year old’s hair. Today, little Dora had made it long, fiery red, and with more curls than Andromeda knew what to do with. She was thankful to step away for a moment, leaving her daughter to her plush Hippogriff toy.

Approaching the window above the kitchen sink, Andromeda fully expected the owl of her husband’s boss, a quick note from Ted saying Arthur had asked him to stay late again, but when she was close enough to see the owl, she stopped in shock. She opened the window, and let in the owl of the family that had disowned her.

Wispy hooted at her in recognition, attempting to nuzzle her head against Andromeda’s hand as she took the letter. With a heavy heart and a broken smile, Andromeda stroked the bird’s feathers, and satisfied, Wispy took off, heading back to her rightful home. The disowned Black turned shakily to the letter.

A weight lifted off her shoulders as she noticed the narrow cursive of her little sister, but as she opened the letter she was concerned. Narcissa knew not to use Wispy to write to her. There were only a few lines of writing inside the letter.

I need to talk in person. Meet at the old pub, tonight at seven. 

It was her third time reading it over when the front door opened.

“Evening, love,” greeted her husband as he shuffled into the kitchen. “Glad to see the rain hasn’t reached here yet - Dora’d be crushed if her fort’s been rained out.”

Ted Tonks was just beginning to recognize the worried look on his wife’s face when his daughter came running into the room. “Daddy!” she cried out happily, long locks of curly red hair flowing behind her. 

He looked at Dora, a gleeful smile overtaking his face. “Look at you! Red hair like that, you could be a Weasley!” He lifted his daughter up as she reached him, holding her high up as she wildly giggled, before settling her on his hip. He turned to his wife. “Everything alright, Dromeda?”

Without a word, she handed Ted the letter, and as he read it, Dora peered over curiously, though she couldn’t read a word.

“Your sister?” he asked, as the letter wasn’t signed.

“Yes,” she answered immediately, “and she’s getting sloppy. She sent my father’s owl.” Ted’s eyes widened at this. He’d worried for some time what might happen if her family ever found out about Andromeda’s correspondence with her younger sister. They’d been quick to disown her when she told them about him, and if they knew that she was influencing another sacred member of the House of Black, he was worried they might retaliate. “I think something’s happened.”

“You should go.” Despite it all, Ted knew Andromeda cared about her family deeply, especially Narcissa, the only one she still thought she had a chance at saving.

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely,” responded Ted, pulling his wife into him with his free hand, softly kissing her temple. “It sounds like she needs you.”

She smiled softly as she looked from her husband to her daughter. “You two will be alright without me tonight?”

“Oh, we’ll be alright,” Ted said, bouncing Dora on his hip. “Dora and I are gonna go put an enchantment on her fort and play in there until we have dinner.” Nymphadora looked increasingly excited at her father’s words.

Andromeda gasped excitedly as she watched her daughter. “Doesn’t that sound like fun, Dora?” She reached out, tickling the little girl’s tummy and smiling at the giggles she received. “Sorry I’ll be missing out on all the fun.”

“I’ll have tea waiting for you when you get back, and I’ll tell you all about it,” said Ted, though they both knew Andromeda would be the one with something to tell.

She looked lovingly at her little family, and brought them both into a hug, kissing their cheeks. Andromeda had made many mistakes in her life, but marrying Ted was not one of them.  “I love you both.”

“We love you too, Mummy,” said Nymphadora.

Ted looked proudly at his daughter, then turned to his wife. “What she said,” he muttered, leaning in to kiss her.

An hour and a half later, Andromeda was getting her Muggle coat on. The rain had followed her husband home, and now they were in a downpour, but she was grateful for it. The cover would save her the trouble of apparating into Diagon Alley and walking clear across town to the pub. Pulling her hood over her head, Andromeda looked out into her backyard to her daughter’s fort, and caught Ted’s eye. They shared a gentle smile, and she disapparated.

A crack of thunder hid the crack of her apparation as Andromeda appeared in an empty alleyway. She looked around, and aside from a stray cat eating out of a can next to the dumpster, she hadn’t been seen. She sighed and walked out to the street.

She walked no more than a block before coming in sight of Young Buck’s, an average pub that had become her and her sister’s middle ground. It was entirely Muggle, which meant the two witches would be completely off their family’s radar.

But tonight, Andromeda was especially alert. In all the time of their secret communications, Narcissa had never used the family owl, and while Andromeda was hoping it only meant that their parents were out when the letter was sent, fear nagged at the back of her mind. She could very well be walking into a trap.

The bell chimed as she entered the pub and removed her hood.

“Evenin’ ma’am,” greeted the bartender. He seemed to be the only one working tonight, and understandably so. Beside herself and the bartender, Andromeda counted seven people, a couple by the window, a group of four men talking rowdily to each other, and a lone woman sitting in the middle of the bar, her glass nearly empty. It was, after all, a Tuesday.

“Evening,” responded Andromeda. She walked to the bar, a small distance between her and the woman, and ordered a gin and tonic. As it was being made, she let her eyes wander to the woman, and just as they reached her, she looked down, having obviously been looking at her as well. She fiddled with her nearly empty glass.

“Should I open a tab for you, miss?” asked the bartender as he handed Andromeda her drink.

“No, but the person I’ll be meeting will take a shandy when she gets here,” she answered. Without looking back at the lonely woman, Andromeda paid for the drinks, then found a fairly secluded booth in the back. 

She sat anxiously, looking at the clock on the wall far more often than she was taking sips of her drink. By six fifty-five, her worry was peaking - Narcissa was always one to be early, yet she was nowhere to be seen. 

Her head shot up at the sound of the bell chiming with the opening door, but looked down again, disgruntled, when a man with a receding hairline came in, greeting the bartender like a regular. She noticed the woman at the bar shift in her seat as the man sat next to her, only a stool between them. The man, however, didn’t take much notice of her, already deep in a conversation with the bartender. 

Time went on, Andromeda’s eyes switching from the clock to the door every couple of seconds. She was glad the bar was dimly lit - anyone who saw her would probably think she was mad. The bell on the door chimed again at seven o’four, and Andromeda sighed in relief at the sight of her little sister.

Narcissa Black stopped in the doorway of Young Buck’s pub, removing the hood from the most Muggle-like cloak she could find in her parents’ extremely anti-Muggle household. Her eyes darted around the room as the room went silent momentarily, all the patrons’ attention drawn to her. She immediately worried that her cloak wasn’t Muggle enough, but the jealous remark a woman by the window had made to her date dismissed that fear. There were only three women beside herself in the pub - a now upset-with-her-date brunette, a young woman sitting by herself at the bar, and, in a secluded booth in the back of the pub, her sister. Narcissa went to her immediately. 

The youngest of the Black sisters had moved so quickly to the booth that Andromeda hadn’t even gotten the chance to stand and greet her. She slid in beside her instead of taking a chair across from her, so they both could have a clear vantage of the door. By the way Narcissa hugged her, Andromeda knew that there was something very wrong.

“What is it?” she said in a hushed voice. Narcissa looked like she was about to cry. 

“Here’s your drink, ma’am,” said the bartender before she could speak, placing her shandy in front of her. The sisters both looked up and smiled at the man.

“Thank you,” Narcissa said in a strained voice. The man nodded, returned the smile, and went back to the bar. The general atmosphere of the pub returned to normal to all but the sisters in the secluded booth and the woman at the bar, who, though appearing disinterested, was stealing glances and trying to listen in to the sisters’ conversation. Neither of them noticed.

Narcissa looked back to her sister after the bartender had left, and from her look of clear desperation and sorrow, Andromeda didn’t want to let her go back to their horrid family, though she didn’t even know what this was about yet. “You sent Wispy. Do - ” started Andromeda - “do they know?”

Narcissa quickly shook her head. “No, um,” she rested her chin in the palm of her hand to try to hide the fact that she was wiping away tears, “they - they were with Bella when I sent her.”

“Why couldn’t you send Shonda’s owl, like you normally do?”

Narcissa tightly closed her eyes at this, and Andromeda sat back slightly, fearing the worst. “Mum made me end things with her.” Andromeda could feel the heartbreak radiating off her sister’s words.

Though she was greatly relieved that Narcissa had not informed her of Shonda’s death, she took her sister’s hand comfortingly, knowing this result couldn’t be much easier on her. But Andromeda was confused. Their parents had found out about Narcissa and Shonda’s relationship months ago, and, as Shonda was Pureblood, they had been relatively okay with it. What had changed their minds?  

“This fucking Pureblood mania,” Narcissa seethed. “So desperate to keep the line going that nothing seems to matter besides that.”

“What d’you mean?” asked Andromeda. “Bella will be able to continue on the line, she - ”

But Andromeda was stopped by the shaking of her sister’s head. “They can’t have children.”

Andromeda’s mouth fell open. “Are they sure it’s her? I mean, her marriage was never about love. Couldn’t she just leave - ”

“It’s not Rodolphus, Dromeda, it’s her. Bellatrix has seen ten different Healers about it now, and they’re all sure it’s her. I was able to send Wispy and come here tonight because Mum and Dad are begging the Lestranges not to divorce her. But before they went to do that, Mum went to the Travers’ and outed Shonda.”

Andromeda sucked in a breath. “Why would she - ”

“To ensure that her parents would never allow her to see me again.” With glossy eyes, Narcissa looked up at the ceiling. “She said to me, ‘We will have a respectable marriage in this family. The Black family will have an heir.’”

Andromeda tried not to think too much about how she could have prevented this. “Can’t that responsibility fall onto our cousins?”

Narcissa scoffed. “Sirius’ll be disowned before he’s seventeen if he hasn’t been already. And Regulus . . . ” she trailed off, shaking her head. “But it doesn’t matter anyway. It’s all to make them feel like they’re less of a failure. An infertile, a Blood Traitor and a lesbian?” She scoffed again. “They’d be the laughing stock of Pureblood society. The damage is done with the two of you, so they’re focusing their attention on me.”

The sisters sat in a shocked and angry silence. It was then that Narcissa took notice of her drink. She took hold of it, raised her glass to the horrible situation she was thrust into, and downed the entire thing in one go. At the bar, the lone woman watched her in awe.

“And to top it all off, Father’s already looking into possible suitors for me. Wanna take a stab at who’s at the top of his list?”

Andromeda’s eyes widened. “No.”

“Yes,” Narcissa answered, her nostrils flaring. “Lucius - fucking - Malfoy.”

All of what Narcissa had been telling her sister was bad, but this was probably the worst of it. Lucius Malfoy had been a year below Andromeda at Hogwarts, and two years above Narcissa. For some ungodly reason, Malfoy, the last of his ‘noble’ line, thought that he was entitled to the best, and as the Blacks were seen as wizarding royalty, Malfoy was convinced that he would have a claim over one of the girls. From the moment the boy had come to the school, his attention had been keenly focused on the Black sisters. He gave up on Bella when she had been betrothed to Lestrange, and on Andromeda when he had seen her associating herself with Muggleborns, but he became obsessed with Narcissa. No matter what she would do, she couldn’t seem to shake him - he was like her own personal stalker. She thought she had finally rid herself of him when he graduated and became very involved in the Ministry, and as she suspects, the Death Eaters, yet here he was again - getting closer and closer to claiming his prize. Narcissa shuddered at the thought.

Her lip was trembling when she turned back to her sister. “How did you do it?” she asked in a small voice. “How did you get out?”

Andromeda felt tears welling, and she took a deep breath to calm them. “I’ll help you, okay? Ted and I will help you - ”

“No, Dromeda,” Narcissa cried. “I can’t let you do that. They’re desperate now. They won’t just disown me, they’ll retaliate. I can’t let you put your family in danger for me.”

Andromeda stared at her sister, knowing she was right, but still refusing to accept it. She pulled her into a hug. “We’ll find a way,” she whispered to her.

They didn’t stay in the pub much longer. Together, they donned their Muggle and Muggle-like cloaks and stepped back out into the rain. It was much darker than when they had first arrived, and as they walked arm-in-arm down the street, they didn’t realize they were being followed. They turned into an alley that could shield their disapparation. 

Andromeda pulled her sister into another tight hug, as if she were going off to battle. “Give me some time to talk to Ted. He and I will find a way to help get you out safely. In the meantime, just lay low, okay? See if you can come stay here in town with Aunt Walburga.”

Narcissa shot her an incredulous look.

“I know she’s no better than Mum and Dad, but at least you can get out of that damned house. Besides, it sounds like she’s got her own troubles with Sirius to worry about, so I don’t think she’ll pry much. And it’ll be easier for me to talk to you if you’re in London. But don’t worry - this whole thing will take time, and we’ll get you out before anything happens, okay?”

She nodded, hugging her sister once more before stepping away from her. Andromeda gave her a reassuring smile, and disapparated.

Narcissa was about to do so herself, but with the sudden feeling that she was no longer alone, she pulled out her wand and turned sharply to the end of the alley. She met the blue eyes of the woman who had been at the bar, her wandless hands raised in defense.

#bewitched #stars series #fatecanberewritten #fatecanberewritten-writer #harry potter fanfiction #marauders era fanfiction #marauders era #harry potter rarepair #rarepair #narcissa black x petunia evans #narcissa x petunia #andromeda tonks #nymphadora tonks #ted tonks #oc: alan reed #oc: ruth nelson #oc: usman chandpuri #oc: arthur baker #oc: roger james #oc: larry bryant #oc: terry taylor #petunia evans #oc: william gray #narcissa black