magicbystarlight - Tumblr blog

magicbystarlight · 6 days

Note

You should post the full screenshots, in light of everything that has happened. Not to start drama, but people should know who not to continue having a relationship with on here and block. The community feels so unsafe now that we know anyone you are talking to could be laughing at you on discord or doxxing you on social media. I only come to tumblr for the hotd fandom and it just seems to get worse here every month.

Hello, anon.

I was going to let this lie, truly I was. I was reached out to by the person behind the comments made approximately half an hour after posting, an exchange in which I was gaslighted and levied with implied threats in a style I am very much familiar with from this person. I did, however, state that I would not escalate matters without provocation. Learning about past events, while upsetting, is not a new provocation.

That has changed upon learning that my good friend Ange, @ewanmitchellcrumbs, has been receiving screenshots of specific things these users have been saying in a group chat with originally six members, now five, via burner accounts. Presumably, this is the efforts of one/two members trying to deflect from what Ange has learned about @rafeism's doxxing efforts by suggesting it was another member in the group responsible. And in the last hour, burner accounts have been attempting to share very obviously doctored screenshots attempting to assign mean-spirited comments about other writers in the community to Ange. I believe this is the work of one or both of the original two people I called out in this post, and I strongly suspect that my answering this ask will invite continued instances of this behaviour or even a direct public post incorporating edited screenshots to defame us and divert from accountability. And finally, I was informed via anon that a lawyer would come after me on the basis of lies and misrepresentation, which is a direct threat and something I will not abide.

I said I was going to expose it all if I learned of any fresh fuckery. And alas, I have. This was asked for, and now my hands are tied.

My original post was about Bel, otherwise known as @succnfuccubus or @valeskafics, and Fae, @eyelinerandcigarettes or @barbiedragon, both of whom have been historically prominent figures in the House of the Dragon fanfiction community on Tumblr.

In July of last year, Bel made a commentary post criticising fanfiction writers who did not write anal intercourse with an appropriate amount of attention paid to preparation. This was perceived to be an attack against another fanfiction writer with whom she had noted enmity at the time, @arcielee, who had written a fanfiction work that arguably did or did not meet this criteria. I do not know and cannot claim expertise on this, as @arcielee and I have mutually blocked each other some time ago. What I do know is that several of @arcielee's mutuals observed the possibility that Bel's post was about this fic; the user Cal, @bucknastysbabe or @bnb-atnite, despite having had absolutely no prior connection to Bel, decided to call her out in a public post for it. Ange, with no context other than thinking a mutual of hers (Bel) had been targeted by this user, defended Bel, believing at the time that the post was not aimed at this writer or at any specific writer she was aware of.

This prompted Cal to divert her attention from Bel and turn it toward Ange, claiming that she had been told by "dozens of people" that Ange was quote-unquote toxic and abusive, claiming to have screenshots of this though she never shared proof, and essentially spending a good several hours (the specificity of which I can no longer recall, though it was certainly over the span of 24+ hours) responding to asks that 'came forward' with incredibly inappropriate commentary about Ange's personal life and friendships under the guise of "exposing her", without however actually committing to concrete proof beyond this. I will note that several of these posts discussed the nature of Ange's marriage to her husband and outright stated that Ange was parasocially fixated on Ewan Mitchell, without proof of this. I was a peripheral target of this, though it was clear the issue was with Ange specifically. This seemed to be the efforts of a few isolated users with personal grudges against her, masquerading as anonymous users to create the perception that this toxicity was widespread. I still do not know what prompted this explosive behaviour, and have absolutely no interest in hearing from this user directly to find out.

All in all, this served to bring Bel, Ange and I together, and we created a group chat on Discord on the 26th of July 2023 so that we could discuss the effects of this effort.

Fae was added a day later, as a close friend of Bel's and an ongoing mutual of both mine and Ange. Fae had previously had a conflict with another user named Shruie over her perception that Shruie had borrowed elements of her story writing to create her own works. Shruie received hate over this, which Fae had previously stated to me was not her work. Shruie went to Cal's blog, submitted an ask publicly slandering her and us by association, and thus it was decided that Fae would join the group too.

This group originally revolved around venting over the ongoing effects of Cal's decision to publicly slander us, and the fallout of this. We received a few hate anons and several people unfollowed or distanced themselves from us all because of it, and we were all understandably angry and upset about this. This anger is justified, and I absolutely still maintain that.

However, I and others in the writing community learned that Shruie had received a number of anons with racist connotations, specifically that she had been called a 'paki' and sent rat emojis. I still am not aware of the culprit behind the 'paki' anon, but Bel herself admitted to sending the rat emojis to Shruie:

I would like to note that Fae reacted to this with the react.

I did not call this out. I should have. But given that Bel was capable of this, the idea of addressing her behaviour directly made me nervous, and so I ignored this revelation and tried to cling to the hope that if I concentrated on building closer friendships with these two women, the hate Cal was levying would die down. Eventually, it did.

However, the vitriol these two women would participate in over the course of the months we identified as 'friends' was nothing short of ugly. They did not want to speak about writing-related topics at all; the entirety of their conversation revolved around making inappropriate and at times downright nasty comments about other writers in the community, many of whom I was completely unaware of. A great deal of the time, I would ask who someone was, as I did not know them at all. Other times, I would 'lol' at a comment to further the conversation along, and I will admit to also participating in some unkind venting about people I feel had been unfair to myself or to Ange. I have already reached out to these people specifically and apologised for this behaviour, as it does not reflect who I am as a person.

Further complicating things, Bel shared the private details of a user whom we had all blocked due to her association with Cal, including the sharing of her full legal name and her private social media account. I have screenshotted this and redacted heavily as evidence it exists, but I do not wish for this information to be known public. I have already initiated conversations privately with this person to provide them evidence.

I need to be clear. This is a crime. The ONLY fortunate thing about this matter is that this information was shared specifically to Ange, Fae and I, and Ange nor I are the type of person to have acted upon the sharing of this information. To this user, I am sorry I did not reach out before now. I am sorry that I allowed our previous longstanding enmity to fuel my inaction. To this user, I promise that my knowledge of your real name or social media presence will not be revealed to anyone. I have not shared this information in any way whatsoever, though you are already aware I have spoken to a close friend of yours and asked them to pass the bare facts forward to you.

Even worse, Bel has also shared this person's image and mocked her physical appearance, which again I have a redacted screenshot of:

During the months in which I was friends with Bel and Fae, I was influenced to believe in several untruths. First of all, Ange and I were informed by Bel that a user we shall call E had deliberately chosen to speed-write a fanfiction work about Ettore in order to post it before Ange could finish her Ettore series as a means to 'drown out' her update. This fact had originally made Ange upset enough to complain without naming E directly in my public Discord server, something which spurred E to receive numerous hate anons and spark the conflict that I currently believe eventually spiralled into Cal's decision to publicly slander us. I requested evidence of this from Bel while I was writing a public post about it, so I could attach evidence. I should have known that her inability to provide it was a problem.

I was influenced to believe that another user, @targaryen-dynasty, had created her server as a means to spread inappropriate rumours about me and Ange to her mutuals. I created a falsified Discord account and joined her server to see if this fact was true; when I failed to find evidence of this after a period of time, I exited the server. I have already apologised to Laura for this, and freely admit it was stupid of me to do so. She has not engaged in inappropriate commentary about me on her server and I am happy to publicly share this. We have mended bridges, and moved on. I have also apologised to Sam, @randomdragonfires, for being unkind about her in response to Fae's upset that she had written a Daemon fanfiction work. There are many people I have been unkind about that I earnestly wish I had not been, and I have done my best to apologise for these things.

What I have not done is engage in the following.

I have a number of screenshots wherein these two women admit to sending anonymous hate messages to various users. I have reached out to who I can to provide them unredacted versions, but I will be redacting names for privacy reasons. These are throughout and as I have a photo limit, I cannot provide every single one. Here is an example:

I wish to also share the further evidence I have of racial escalations from these two women against a writer of German heritage. I have reached out to this user to share directly, but will redact the name for privacy reasons.

There are numerous instances of further hate to many, many writers. To those of you who suspect you may have had comments made about you, I invite you to reach out to me in private if you wish to know exactly what has been said. To those of you who I have already informed, I am deeply sorry I allowed myself to be silent.

Over the course of this 'friendship', I began to pull away from the internet. I barely interacted online, even with Ange, who is one of my absolute best friends on here. I did not write at all. I couldn't. I was paranoid, anxious, full of anger and fear. I was ruined. Fandom was ruined. These women ruined me. I watched on from a distance as Ange began to grow distant with Fae and Bel in the group chat, as it had been MONTHS and they were still behaving in the exact same angry, bitter way they had when they first joined the group chat. Ange grew increasingly frustrated because Bel had commenced a pattern of using Ange's content to heavily inspire her own.

It all came to a head when Bel learned that her 'enemies', Jo and Karina, had unblocked E and @arcielee and mended bridges. She decided to do the same, and in doing so apparently informed E that Ange was at fault for any and all conflict that had occurred, and I presume any and all hate anons that had been sent to E. Ange learned this because E reached out to her and sent a barrage of furious messages telling her that Bel had 'told her the truth', which Ange was completely bewildered by. Here is the exchange that effectively ended the group chat:

You will note that Bel's story is different here. I do not have screenshots verifying what Bel specifically told Ange the conversation was about, as it was a private conversation. If Ange wishes to add to this and bring this conversation up specifically, she is invited to do so.

Not long after this, seeing little point, I ejected Fae from the group and decided to leave it for the time being. You see, after learning this last fact as above, I had a very unfortunate suspicion that things were going to turn sour for us. I was right, and boy am I glad I have the evidence to dismantle the lies that have been told about us.

For a time, we existed in limbo. Bel and Fae and Ange and I had a series of lukewarm interactions that were largely brief in nature. I think we all knew that the friendship was about to come to an end.

Then, Ange reblogged an opinion post about her dislike of the bimbo trope being used for Michael Gavey fics, believing many examples of this to be an incorrect and wildly offensive representation of what writers thought was the ‘bimbo’ trope. This prompted Cal to go on another rampage, ugly and public, and one I will not post screenshots of because let’s face it, everyone is aware that it occurred. I do have them, though. I can provide them if anyone insists. She spent further time calling Ange out for being ‘toxic’, eventually having it die down when her posts failed to gain much attention. I did hit out at a few of her mutuals who tried to claim for some reason that Ange was a racist (?) because she expressed worry about Ewan attending a Con, and hoped his fans wouldn’t behave inappropriately to him. I digress. Irrelevant. The result of this all was that Bel, without warning or notice, reached out to Cal to ‘make amends’, despite having gone through all the above. Despite the fact that she was supposedly friends with Ange, who had had her marriage, her life mocked and insulted by this woman. Over what? A perception that Ange was insulting her for her love of the bimbo trope.

Ange told Bel directly that she wasn’t a fan of it but that she didn’t care either way that Bel wrote it if it made her happy, and Bel told her this was fine. Bel choosing to befriend Cal was something Ange and I felt was a massive, massive betrayal. We blocked Bel, and we moved on.

This was one of my final interactions with Fae:

I ended up blocking Fae because I learned she unfollowed me, and I presumed it was because of her friendship with Bel. I knew what Fae was like, didn’t want her to have access to my anon inbox, and so I blocked. For a very brief time, things were somewhat approaching peaceful. Until I started learning that people I barely associated with were being targeted. I learned that @marthawrites had been blocked by Chris and from her, that Bel/Fae/Cal/Chris had made reference to a quote-unquote “frightening degree of hatred” for me and Ange. From her, I also learned that Bel evidently had a burner she used to “camp out” on my blog and make screenshots of everything I said so she could mock it in her group chat. She did the same to Ange. I received a number of strange or unkind anons during this period, and so I can only speculate as to the person involved. I also learned that Bel has a habit of calling me “pedo” or “Pedo Em”, which I can only assume has something to do with the fact that my main character in my fanfiction is 17 when she is married. In A Song of Ice and Fire, this is tame.

I was deeply upset to learn this, and I made a vague-post. Within hours, I received the anon from this post, prompting me to respond in the manner I did. See, me being called a pedo is not a widely-circulated insult from my knowledge. It had to have been Bel to send it. Interestingly enough, she reached out to me not even an hour after my post went up, claiming she’d been sent a screenshot of it. I don’t believe this. Here is the exchange:

What surprised me most was when a formerly incredibly staunch friend of Cal and Chris, and Bel and Fae by association, reached out to me via her a different account before completely deactivating. She grew tired of the relentless hatred circulated in the group chat she previously shared with them, and left. This prompted the entire group to block her, only after Chris called her names and Cal had what was described to me as an “absolutely psychotic” rant at her. She is struggling. She was very close friends with them, and despite having engaged peripherally in the commentary they have circulated against me and Ange for a while, I cannot hold it in my heart to be angry with her for believing lies her friends have told her. She has told me that they would repeatedly mock me and Ange, constantly trash-talked about us for months, make claims of all manner of insane things, and yet never provide a SINGLE instance of proof for this.

I would like to now provide clarification for some of the specific rumours that this former mutual informed me have been spread around about me and Ange.

Ange and I are racists who told Bel off for wanting to write Bollywood HOTD fanfiction. This is categorically untrue: see this screenshot for proof that this was never mentioned.

Ange and I bullied Fae whenever she mentioned getting her treatments for her condition (which, by the way, she has discussed online and is therefore ALSO not doxxing). See the screenshots for proof that Fae has never once mentioned it. There are specific phrases that can be searched for also, but because she has not been specific about her illness online I will not disclose the nature of this.

I have made nasty comments about Chris’s child. See the screenshot below for evidence that it is in fact Bel who called the child “a little fucker”, among other things.

Ange and I have doxxed people. See…… all the above as proof we have not. This was likely a pre-emptive deflection, and I am disappointed but not surprised by it.

That I have sent hate anons to the group, which they claimed was verifiable through their 'hacker' mutual. However, the former mutual of theirs that reached out to me has sought professional feedback about this claim, and it has been concluded that the so-called hacker was "right-clicking on page analytics" in a manner that cannot possibly reveal the identity of the anon-er. Furthermore, I didn't. They have been blocked by me.

I am responsible for @emilykaldwen blocking Cal and others. See this exchange wherein Nat informs me she already had Cal blocked. As for the accusations of a block list, this is categorically untrue. I have no screenshots to share because there ar1e no screenshots at all. Because I did not do this.

I don’t know at this stage what else has been said. If anyone has anything further they’d want clarification for, I’m sure I could find evidence to disprove it.

None of this should have happened. None of this should have happened. How DARE you all. You have spent FAR too long abusing this fandom for your own sick, selfish amusement, and I am done. Nothing that has ever happened here was begun by either myself or Ange, and the fact that even NOW you are all attempting to redirect the blame on us or even on each OTHER is truly, truly shameful.

What was the purpose, ladies? What is possibly going on in your life that being so angry, so hateful filled you with so much joy? Now, you’ve gone past the point of no return. You cannot come back from this. You cannot deflect from this. I’m sure you’re going to try to, maybe even to come up with “evidence” that none of this is true. You’ll lie, you’ll scramble, and you will not apologise, I’m sure. You should. Do you understand how far past the line you have crossed? Do you understand that we are actual, real people? This isn’t a game where you’re making sport out of upsetting a bunch of pixels. Ange is a journalist. I am a teacher. We are adults with full time jobs and full time lives and full time human experiences, and you have done your absolute level best to destroy us. I don’t understand why. I don’t understand how you could do this to another person. I don’t know what to do to make you stop. Do I need to deactivate? What do I need to do? You have terrified me beyond belief. I am so, so afraid of you. Does that make you happy?

I’m just speechless.

And to those of you still—STILL—clinging to supporting these women… You’re either stupid or just as horrible. I really don’t know what your problem is with us. With me. We’ve been holed up doing nothing for months, and that STILL wasn’t enough for you. This isn’t a game. This isn’t something you can win. This is real life, and you are making people suffer. For fucking fanfiction.

I am open to letting bygones be bygones if you genuinely didn’t know any of the above information. However, to the four of you—Bel, Fae, Chris, Cal—I do not wish you kindness. I do not wish you empathy. I do not wish for anything at all but for you to leave us alone, finally. You have burned just about every bridge possible, and the only people at fault are you. If you attempt to ‘reconcile’, your burners will be reported. If you attempt to further slander us, your posts will be reported. We are in the process of figuring out what legal recourse there is, because this has gone beyond ‘mean’ and straight to cyberstalking and criminal offence. I want you to take a good, long think about why on earth you ever thought any of this behaviour was okay. And then, I want you to stop. Stop. No one’s safety is worth your ego on Tumblr.com.

To everyone else. Please don’t get involved. Do not send any anons, any messages, any vitriol to these women. Let them reflect in peace and silence. Or let them bang at the walls of the prison of their own making. Let them lie to themselves as much as they wish.

I don’t know what to do anymore. But if anyone does have a similar story to tell about these women, please reblog this and share it. It'd be nice to know I'm not alone.

#That’s insane #hotd fandom drama

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magicbystarlight · 9 days

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Riele, my love, Gunthar seems like a walking red flag 😂 An absolute flirt. It’s part of the appeal lol

I love how opposite they are too. Tormund becoming more solemn and Gunthar responding by being more fictitious! There’s pros and cons & it’ll be interesting how their opposing personalities have them butting heads. And how Lotus is going to react to them! I swear I can taste the jealousy 😫

Currently with Into the Mist

Another peak into the original work I've been doing, this time with our lover boy's pov. Lover Boy and his baby brother, as they prepare for our Princess' arrival.

I love their playful dynamic, which will be a big part of Tormund's story. How they rely on each other, and why. Their backstory, that is, and the family dynamics at play. I’m not certain how much of it will survive once the final product is finished and edits have been made, but I’m gonna write it anyways because it’s part of the world building and I deeply love that ish! 🥹

“How am I to hide this, Gunth?”

“It is likely she will not see.”

“Are a woman’s eyes truly so blind?”

“Perhaps not blind,” He utters, shifting forward in the saddle, “But shielded. Veiled, by our efforts combined.”

I say nothing to that, humming in thought.

“Do not worry your heart over it. I expect she shall be too enraptured by your beauty to mind much else.”

I roll my eyes, but my anxieties wane some at the snicker which leaves his lips.

“Keep her well in bed and our efforts need not be so mighty.”

“Must you always be so crass?” I admonish, watching him grin and abide me with a tilt of his head.

“Were I not, I fear our lives would be far more grating.” Gunthar licks his lips, surveying the people we pass. Roths, some who arrived some time before today, their clothing clean and bellies fat, but their faces still worry with the war. Gunthar acknowledges them with a small grin, causing the young maidens to blush. “Besides, you will hail my reverie once your bride arrives. My spirit makes for widely desired company amongst our royal guests.”

“The Princess will not be a guest, brother.” I say it sternly, though I know he hears the amusement in my tone. “She is your future Queen, to be sat at my side when I presume the Seat of Valbren.”

“I do not forget the Lady’s pedigree, nor imply any disrespect. I only speak to her comforts as a newcomer in our Court.”

I nod. I knew what he meant; the warning given perhaps more than was necessary. But it was as much a reminder for him as it was for me.

#riele writes #into the mist #riele ❤️❤️❤️#yes please tag me 🥹

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magicbystarlight · 12 days

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i resent people implying that cooper howard is the first hot ghoul in the fallout franchise

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magicbystarlight · 15 days

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There’s a fic on fanfiction(.)net that I’ve kept tabs on for years to see if it’s been updated or not. While I’m no longer even in the fandom it’s written for, it just has one of the greatest storylines I’ve ever read. Last time it was updated was 2011.

The other day, I decided to reread the entire thing and leave a very in-depth review of what I thought of each chapter. I also mentioned how I started reading it when I was 13 and am now 21, but always came back to see if it was ever finished because I loved it so dearly.

Today, said author sent me a private message saying that her analytics showed that the story was still getting views even after all these years, but no one ever bothered to leave reviews other than “update soon!!!”, so she never felt motivated enough to finish it. She said that me reviewing every single chapter with lengthy paragraphs made her cry and meant the world to her. She also mentioned that she felt encouraged to write the two remaining chapters needed to complete the story and that she would send me a message the night before she updates the fic.

I’m literally sobbing. I’m so excited :’)

Please always remember to leave a review when reading fanfiction!!! It means a lot to a writer.

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magicbystarlight · 17 days

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Currently with Into the Mist

Another peak into the original work I've been doing, this time with our lover boy's pov. Lover Boy and his baby brother, as they prepare for our Princess' arrival.

“How am I to hide this, Gunth?”

“It is likely she will not see.”

“Are a woman’s eyes truly so blind?”

“Perhaps not blind,” He utters, shifting forward in the saddle, “But shielded. Veiled, by our efforts combined.”

I say nothing to that, humming in thought.

“Do not worry your heart over it. I expect she shall be too enraptured by your beauty to mind much else.”

I roll my eyes, but my anxieties wane some at the snicker which leaves his lips.

“Keep her well in bed and our efforts need not be so mighty.”

“Must you always be so crass?” I admonish, watching him grin and abide me with a tilt of his head.

“I do not forget the Lady’s pedigree, nor imply any disrespect. I only speak to her comforts as a newcomer in our Court.”

I nod. I knew what he meant; the warning given perhaps more than was necessary. But it was as much a reminder for him as it was for me.

#into the mist #riele ❤️❤️❤️#look at these cuties

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magicbystarlight · 17 days

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How did I miss this 😭😭😭😭😭

It’s been sitting here this whole time?

Tormund already being so respectful and loving towards his future wife before he’s even set eyes on her? If it weren’t for the fact that I fear Gunthar will be the love of my life, he’d be the perfect man

Currently with Into the Mist

Another peak into the original work I've been doing, this time with our lover boy's pov. Lover Boy and his baby brother, as they prepare for our Princess' arrival.

“How am I to hide this, Gunth?”

“It is likely she will not see.”

“Are a woman’s eyes truly so blind?”

“Perhaps not blind,” He utters, shifting forward in the saddle, “But shielded. Veiled, by our efforts combined.”

I say nothing to that, humming in thought.

“Do not worry your heart over it. I expect she shall be too enraptured by your beauty to mind much else.”

I roll my eyes, but my anxieties wane some at the snicker which leaves his lips.

“Keep her well in bed and our efforts need not be so mighty.”

“Must you always be so crass?” I admonish, watching him grin and abide me with a tilt of his head.

“I do not forget the Lady’s pedigree, nor imply any disrespect. I only speak to her comforts as a newcomer in our Court.”

I nod. I knew what he meant; the warning given perhaps more than was necessary. But it was as much a reminder for him as it was for me.

#into the mist #their dynamic is precious #id be blushing too girls #riele ❤️❤️❤️

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magicbystarlight · 17 days

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Cormac really made himself unlikable 😂 i hope you weren’t too tired for the lecture!

One For Sorrow, Two For Joy - Part Eight

Masterlist, Part One

Part Eight of Eighteen

Summary: For the last three years, you’ve been working a repetitive Ministry job and wrapped your life around an unhappy relationship. After realizing how empty your life has become, you leave everything behind and stumbles across an unlikely job for you - Office Manager for Weaselys’ Wizard Wheezes. There you wish to find something you lost in the war: hope.

Word Count: 3704

Warnings: 18+, drinking. Minors DNI.

HP Tag List: @bamboozledflamplant @charmingandfantasticfics

One For Sorrow, Two For Joy Taglist: @byelannie @sugasthreedollarkookie @bethanystan @maralisa124 @confusedcrayon @ikkleroniekins

Three owls were waiting patiently outside your window when you got home. Audrey, Ginny, and Cho had sent letters to check up on you after the disastrous night. Writing them back, you let them know you were okay and told Audrey you could have dinner that night. It was plenty of time for you to go back to sleep. Sleep that didn't involve George holding you.

Pecking at the window pulled you out of near sleep. Who wrote back so quickly?

See at noon!

Dean

You had completely forgotten about your lunch plans today. It was something you were supposed to cancel or postpone, but it was too late for that now without being rude. Maybe it was a good thing. Another thing to get your mind off of last night and something else you could talk with Audrey about at dinner. You wrote back and asked if he could do lunch at the Hog's Head instead. Aberforth's Cottage Pie was the only thing that could make this day better.

A few minutes till, you Apparated into the small village. Not much had changed since your youth. All but one of the shops had reopened following the war and it had managed to stay fully intact. There had been many good memories made there and it was a comfort to know that it still stood much like it had before.

Dean greeted you warmly outside of Honeydukes and you walked together into the Hog's Head. Apparently, Seamus had wanted to come along, but had gotten stuck at work. Despite how nervous you were, Dean was rather easy to talk to. Being around him was only ever a problem when he wanted to talk about the few months he had spent with Dad and Sarah, otherwise, you got on swimmingly.

"So," he said after Aberforth took our orders, "I have something for you." He pulled something out of his jacket pocket.

"Well, it's technically from Erasmus, er, uh, your dad." He slid across a black, bulky, leather square. A muggle wallet. Exactly like the one Dad had always carried around.

You gently picked it up, running a finger over the outside before opening it. Dad hadn't really used it for its intended purpose. Instead, he had used it as a place to put pictures so he could always have them. Inside the clear pocket, he put his favorite photo. Christmas Eve 1993. The last Christmas you were all together.

You had complained about wearing the matching sweaters for the picture, but Mum was insistent. She hated the sweaters too but Dad loved them. After everything he had given up to be with her, she would do any silly thing that would make him happy. "We're his only family now. He gave up so much for us, I think we can give him a cheesy photo and a couple hours in the sweaters." You envied the girl in the photo as she smiled up at her parents. She hadn't known that this would be the last time the three of you would get to take a photo together. She hadn't known the pain of losing them. She was still unscarred, unbroken, and filled with innocence.

You closed the wallet, blinking back tears. "Where did you get this?"

"When we were...found...your dad helped Sarah and I escape, but Sarah got separated. He made me hide, told me to bury anything important to me so the Snatchers wouldn't find it. Asked me to bury this with it. He left to find Sarah and he-" Dean stopped suddenly.

My hand clasped over his on the table. This conversation wasn't easy for him either.

"Seamus helped me find where I had buried everything about a year ago. I hadn't been able to go back before."

Guilt filled you as you realized that Dean had been trying to give this to you for months. He faced his own trauma to bring this little part of your father back to you and you hadn't given him the time of day. "Thank you, Dean. This means so much to me."

You wiped away the tears that had slid down your face as Aberforth brought out our lunches. Coming to the Hogshead had been a good choice. His Cottage Pie had been the first thing you ate in the days after their deaths.

"They talked about you a lot," Dean said before taking a bite of his chips. The corner of his mouth lifted in a half-smile as he chewed. "Erasmus and Ted were always bragging about you and Nymphadora. And you were in almost every story Sarah had."

A grin spread across your face. They had missed you as much as you had missed them.

Dean chuckled, "You know, Sarah would probably be very happy that you're working with George."

"What?" you asked horrified, cheeks heating up. She didn't.

Dean tried hard to keep a straight face, but failed miserably. "She, uh, may have mentioned a, uh, crush you had on him at Hogwarts. We were listening to Potterwatch and she was asking if I knew which twin was which over the radio. I didn't. She wished you were there because, according to her, you could always tell who was who since First Year when you - again, according to her - you had fallen head over heels in love with George."

Your hands covered your face and you sunk into the booth, hoping it would swallow you whole. It didn't. "That witch! I wasn't in love with him, it was a silly little crush I had when we were kids." A crush that had recently come back with a vengeance.

Dean laughed. "Don't worry, I won't say anything." You had no doubts that he wouldn't share the secret with anyone. Dean was a good man.

You shared the pain of losing your dad and Sarah in ways no one else could understand. He had saved your life when he wrote to Seamus to get you to safety - your uncle wouldn't have had any hesitation in disposing of you.

"Thank you. There's already enough rumors without that getting out. And he'd never let me live it down if he found out."

The rest of lunch was quite pleasant. You avoided embarrassing and painful topics, sticking to things that were a little more lighthearted. You found that you truly enjoyed his company and the ease you were able to talk. Guilt reminded you that this conversation could have happened a long time ago if you hadn't been so stubborn. Lunch ended with a promise to meet again soon.

That night, you met Audrey at her and Percy's shared apartment. Gratefully, he had gone out with a few friends for the night and it was just the two of you. She fretted over you the moment you walked in, rewording the same question over and over: Are you okay?

"Honestly, I'm fine," you reassured her. She scrutinized you, unbelieving.

Honestly, you weren’t fine, but it had little to do with Cormac. It had hurt. It hurt a lot last night and even this morning. But it was a hurt that dulled quickly and left nothing more than a bitter after taste. Now you were just disappointed with him. You had never known him to be vulgar or vile and to see him try to stoop so low lost any remaining respect you had for him.

George, however, had been haunting every thought since you left lunch.

"I'm sorry. If I hadn't pushed you to go out, none of that ever would have happened." She looked absolutely miserable.

Your laugh startled her. "I had fun last night. Yeah, it ended pretty badly, but that isn't anyone's fault but Cormac's. And he paid a pretty hefty price for it." A smile tugged at your lips. He'd been hit by several spells - most likely hexes and jinxes - by some very talented witches and wizards. Ginny's was probably the worst. Hopefully he enjoyed spending the New Year in St. Mungo's.

She smiled back at you, relieved. "I'm glad you had fun. Maybe we should do it again - sans loser exes."

It was a little past ten when you popped into Horsham, fueled by the wine Audrey had offered. Not much had changed in the week since you’d been there last. Most homes still had their lights up and on and snow still littered the ground. Yet your outlook on the world had changed drastically.

You weren’t alone anymore. You had stopped pushing people away. People cared and worried about you. The toxic relationship you had clung to for over three years no longer had any pull on you. Even though everything with George complicated matters, you were happy.

Your parent's house - your house now - still stood dark, but the full moon illuminated the details you had easily missed. Overgrown weeds peeked through the snow, dead grass was matted around the edges of the house, several parts of the fence surrounding the lawn were broken or missing, and the stairs were layered in dust and grime. The house had fallen in disrepair thanks to your neglect.

The neighborhood was entirely Muggle, so fixing it with magic wasn't an option. They were all far too nosy to not notice such a change. No, it'd have to be fixed their way.

As you were mentally calculating how much time it would take for you to pull the weeds if you started right then, your old neighbor Mrs. Peters came out.

"Oh! How good to see you, my dear!" She approached you, tightly wrapped in her coat, with a broad smile on her face. She was much older, a grandmother to kids only a decade your junior, but she had never lost any of her energy.

"Hi, Mrs. Peters. It's good to see you, too."

"What are you doing out here so late? Has living in London messed with your sense of time?" She half teased. Any time past nine was considered late to her.

"I was actually coming to survey the damage to the house. Seems like it's time I fix it. Mum would be distraught if she ever knew how bad I let it get."

Mrs. Peters gazed at the house. "It certainly is time to clean it up. Some of the others on the street have tried to do it themselves, calling it an eyesore. I didn't let them touch it, of course. It wouldn't have been right to do it before you were ready." She never was one to beat around the bush. "But now that you are, I think the gardening club would very much enjoy helping out here."

Relief washed over you. You wouldn't have to do this alone either. "That would be lovely," you said.

She nodded. "I'll let them know tomorrow, we have a meeting in the evening."

"Thank you."

She wished you a good night and set back off to her own home next door, probably very happy that she could finally stop living next to a dilapidated house. There was no doubt in your mind that she had chased off several of our other neighbors, but that didn't mean she didn't hate it just as much as they did.

The outside would at least be taken care of. Now you had to worry about the inside. At least there you could use some magic with closed curtains. Before you could fix it, however, you actually needed to step inside. Bouncing on your heels, you debated if you should go in now or come back. If you don't go in now, you probably never would.

The weight of the wallet in your jacket gave you the last bit of strength you needed to push yourself to walk through the door.

In your entire twenty two years of living, you had never been late. Not once. Even after being literally tortured, you still managed to make it to class on time. But today you were running late. Your watch let you know that you were running thirty seven minutes late to be exact. Wonderful.

You rushed into the office just as George was putting on a coat. "Where have you been? I was getting worried and about to go looking for you!" He said, embracing you tightly.

"I'm sorry. I got home late and forgot to set my alarm," you said. Your voice was muffled by his well toned chest. Did he get a new detergent?

He pulled back and opened his mouth before promptly closing it. "I'm glad you're safe. I thought something horrible had to have happened. You've never been late," he finally said.

"I'm sorry," you repeated.

The rest of the day, you did everything you could to be busy. Fulfilled orders, paid invoices, went over the logbook, checked payroll. Anything that could be an excuse not to talk. George was whisked away early to help out in the shop. People were always eager to see him.

Eventually, he did return to the office, with only an hour before you were out. You tried to focus on the numbers in front of you, but drowsiness was blurring them all together.

"You alright?" he asked.

"Tired, is all."

He was quiet for a moment, but you could hear his foot tapping as he swirled his quill. "Did you go out last night?"

"No," you rubbed my eyes, "I was at my parents' house trying to clean it up." Technically, everything was clean now. You had gotten rid of all the dust and cobwebs with a couple of spells. But it was going to be a long process to do everything else. There was so much stuff to sort through, but it felt wrong to do it all magically. Dad had embraced so many ways of the muggle world, he was owed that last honor.

"Why?"

Before you could explain the meeting with Dean, Hermione and Ron walked through the door. They both seemed rather tense.

“Oh, h–“

Hermione cut off George's greeting, "McLaggen's going to try to press charges."

Fucking bastard. Of course he would. "He's really going to try to take on a bunch of highly respected witches and wizards? After what he did? After what he said? The press will eat him alive. He'll drop it when he realizes it will destroy his reputation." He'd drop it by the end of the week.

"He's actually only filed a complaint against one of us," Ron said. He looked straight at George.

A few very vulgar threats slipped out of your mouth as you went to storm out of the office. You were done with Cormac and his petty shit. He did not get to stroll in and make the lives of those around your

miserable because they were better company than him.

George grasped your wrist before you could walk out the door. "Where are you going?"

"To get him to drop this. I'm not going to let him drag your name in the mud." He didn't let go as you tried to tug your hand away.

"You can't do that," Hermione said. "He could try to claim intimidation and it could make things worse."

Son of a... "So I'm just supposed to sit back and let him attack George? Do you know what this could do to the store?" Your eyes pleaded with George, hoping he would see reason and let you go.

He shook his head. "It doesn't matter. Let him try. Like you said, it'll ruin his reputation. We'll be okay." He seemed resolved. How could Cormac do this to him? To you? "Promise me you won't do anything about it."

Feeling defeated, you agreed.

You didn't get much sleep that night either. A few hours had been spent tossing and turning, and when sleep finally found you, a very vivid dream of George being thrown into Azkaban woke you. That's how you found yourself at your parents' house before the sun even rose. If you couldn't sleep, you’d be productive.

It didn't work very well for a distraction and you found yourself on the verge of storming into the loft you had once shared with Cormac and giving him a piece of your mind. Just because he had made up this idea of you being in a relationship with George, didn't mean he could try to mess it up. Imaginary or not, he didn't get to decide how you lived your life or who you chose to live it with.

Instead, you went to work. At least there George could keep an eye on you when he got in. It was early, so he wasn't there yet. No one was. You busied yourself with any and every task you could find until Naenia came in. She looked at you as if you were a nutter when you greeted her. You slinked into the office, not knowing what you had done to deserve such a bizarre greeting.

It felt like an eternity before George showed up looking grim. It wasn't right that someone who had just started enjoying his life again was being pushed back into a corner.

"Did you see the article?" he asked. Oh no.

You pinched the bridge of your nose. "Cormac already went to the press? How bad is it?"

"It's not about that, but it's, um, it's not good." George pulled out a copy of Witches Weekly and set it down in front of you. Your face was staring right back at you. It looked like someone had taken it the day of the launch. "The Gryffindor Seeker" stood in scarlet letters above the photo.

The article started on page sixteen under the same caption accompanied by three additional photos. They were all of you. The first was an old photo of Cormac and you that was taken for work. The next one was of George spinning you around while you held him tightly, both smiling. That one was also taken the day of the launch. The third was Dean and you sitting in the booth at the Hog's Head.

An ex employee of the Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells, seems to have an affinity for former Gryffindor Quidditch Players. Despite appearing to be a fairly average-looking young woman, she was recently at the center of a very public bar fight between her former lover Cormac McLaggen and new beau George Weasley. While it's unclear exactly what transpired between the three during the New Year's Eve brawl, eyewitnesses tell us that she and Mr. Weasley left together and she was spotted leaving his loft the following morning in the same ill-fitting dress as the night before.

It seems, however, that two men fighting over her is not enough as she was spotted that very same day having lunch with Dean Thomas, the shopkeeper at Flourish and Blott's. There they were seen laughing and holding hands. A very reliable source claims that they departed with the promise to see one another very soon. One can only imagine the pain poor Mr. Weasley must be feeling.

The article continued for a few more paragraphs, but you couldn't bear to read anymore. You had never been the center of attention, you’d actively avoided it for your entire life, and knowing that hundreds of people would be reading this made you feel nauseous. Knowing people would believe that you were some kind of homewrecking harlot leading on two beloved members of the community made you actually vomit into the trash can next to the desk. Had she done any research, she'd have seen at least one of her accusations was impossible.

George was quick to rush to your side, holding back your hair as you lost the little food you had eaten in the past twelve hours and offering you a tissue once it was all out.

"Why would someone write this?" you asked, mostly to yourself. Your life wasn't something to be written about, it was unexceptional and dull. The only interesting thing about it was where you worked, but that wasn't even mentioned. No, just like Cormac, they had created these imaginary relationships and slandered your previously non-existent reputation.

"It's by Rita Skeeter, she's a horrible woman. Just ask Hermione." Of course it was Rita Skeeter. The lady liked to bash fourteen year olds, it shouldn't be surprising that she'd still be watching their circle for any interesting news. Instead, she found you. "Did you want to take the day off?"

"No. I can't trust myself alone today, I nearly went to Cormac's this morning. Besides, hiding won't make the article go away." It'd probably make it worse if you didn't continue on as normal.

"So how do we handle this?" Your face must have betrayed your confusion because he clarified, "People are going to ask if we're dating. Same with you and Dean."

"Oh."

"So, are you, um, dating Dean?"

You scoffed, "You don't know about Dean and Seamus? They've been dating for almost a year now. Dean and I had lunch so he could give me this. It was my dad's. They were together right before the...right before he died." George held the wallet carefully as he opened it, pausing briefly to look at the photo inside, and closed it.

"Okay. I'll let the clerks know that the article is rubbish. Ginny has a couple of friends at the Prophet, maybe they can run a counter article or something. Lee can also make a statement, if I go now I can catch him before the show."

George was an amazing person. Here he was trying to fix all your problems even though you had caused so many for him. "I'll talk to the clerks and send an owl to Ginny. Just see if you can catch Lee."

"Okay, I'll be back soon." He got up to leave, but stopped. "It'll be okay, I promise." He leaned down and kissed the top of your head, much like he had Christma Eve, and left to catch Lee.

The flutter in your heart was readily ignored as you set off to try to minimize the damage of Rita Skeeter.

#jealous George is 🥰#ofstfj

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magicbystarlight · 19 days

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magicbystarlight · 19 days

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Don't you think you owe it to readers to give them what they want?

No? What an odd take. Read my fic or don't.

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magicbystarlight · 19 days

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self care is writing a fic that you’re literally the sole target audience for

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magicbystarlight · 21 days

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twitter's bot problem has gotten out of hand

#report and block every post #it won’t stop them but it will inconvenience them

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magicbystarlight · 21 days

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Venomous - Part Twelve

Masterlist, Part One

Summary: A wife. A mother. A witch with someone else's name. That’s the life you didn’t want. So Tom offered you more.

Word Count: 3.3K

Warnings: 18+, minor character death, gore, injury, blood, a little angst. Minors DNI.

A/N: I know this isn’t the one everyone wants updated, but this one brings me a lot of joy to write at the moment

Tom Riddle made you weak. You hated being weak.

You hated that you'd been so easy to trick. You hated the way you clung to yourself. You hated how the coldness of the floor seeped through your tights. You hated the sounds that came out of you. You hated that he was seeing you cry. You hated most that you couldn’t stop.

A hand touched your shoulder and you swatted it away, ready to scream at him for touching you again. But it was Dumbledore.

“It’s alright. Let it out.”

And as you clung to him, his arms wrapping around you like a father would a child, you did.

It could have been minutes or it could have been hours that you were there. After was a blur. He guided you around the broken mirrors and then you blinked and were in his office. “When you’re ready, I’d like to hear what happened,” he said, offering a cup of tea. You should tell him. The truth. All of it. From the moment Tom held you captive in the abyss of his gaze to the last second. Ruin his life like he’d ruined yours. It was only fair. It was only justice.

Except, you still had further to fall. If anyone knew—if Abraxas found out what happened between you…Yes, you had much further down you could go. You wouldn’t let him drag you any more.

“I cracked my wand.” It was on his desk now, green hairs singed at the ends. Useless. Not even a spark to defend you.

He took his seat and sipped his own tea. “And how did that happen?”

“I don’t know.” You flinched as the words left your mouth.

“You were using the restroom and it just cracked?”

That sounded unbelievable. “No, I cracked it last week when I fainted.” This was news to him. He seemed to believe the Healer’s diagnosis of menstruation less than you had. Stress he accepted, however. You clung to it and explained how the wand had been finecky since and how it, the weight of the wedding, and school had all compounded until you—and the mirrors—exploded. “I’ll pay for them.”

He shook his head. “The mirrors aren’t my concern. My concern is that it was Tom Riddle who just happened to be the one to find you. In the girl’s lavatory.”

“He was there?” The tea was warm as it slid down your throat. “Is that how you found me?”

“I happened to be in Galatea’s office when he came bursting in saying you needed help.”

What a hero, you thought with disgust. Playing the good samaritan, bringing help before someone stumbled across you. What an exemplary Head Boy he was.

“If he did something I need you to tell me,” Dumbledore said, face etched with gentle concern. “Don’t let him get away with hurting you again.”

The blue of his eyes bore into yours. The scene sped through your head again. I don’t know. I don’t know. I dont know I don’t know I don’t know idon’tknowidon’tknowidon’tknowidon’tknowidon’t knowidon’tknowidon’tknowidon’tknowidon’tknow.

You blinked.

Again.

He knew? No, he couldn’t. Suspected. He suspected Tom was a monster. He suspected he’d done something. But he knew nothing.

“I didn’t even know he was there.”

His disappointment was plain to see. It didn’t matter. Whatever issues they had were theirs, not yours. And Dumbledore had more important antagonists to focus on. “If anything changes, please don’t hesitate to talk to me.” He picked up your wand. “For now, I think it’s best we retrieve a new wand for you. Are you up for a trip to Diagon Alley?”

—

Diagon Alley was deserted. Only two people passed as you made your way from the Leaky Cauldron to Ollivander’s. It felt unnatural.

“Albus, what brings you in today?” the younger Ollivander greeted. His father had bequeathed him the shop a couple years before you’d gone off to Hogwarts, but you’d never met him.

Dumbledore set your wand on the counter, Ollivander’s brows shooting high at its abysmal condition. “Miss Selwyn is in need of a new wand.”

The shopkeep examined it slowly, lips pulled taut. “Kelpie hair. I always told my father it’s not a suitable core, especially not paired with a wood as sensitive as hazel. Though I’ve never seen one react quite like this.” His eyes narrowed as he looked past the broken wood to you. “When did you get your wand?”

“October 21st, 1934,” you answered. You were seven.

“From my father?” He tisked when you nodded. “Much too young for a wand. He should never have allowed that. We change so much so quickly in our youth, what wand suits you one day may be completely wrong the next.”

Your mother said that every witch should have a wand, no matter the age. After all, what was a witch without a wand?

“It worked well enough.”

“Perhaps,” he said, setting it back on the counter, “but well enough is not good enough, in my opinion.”

He turned sharply, hands floating over the boxes lining the wall. Without reason, he plucked one from the shelf. “Black walnut, unicorn hair, ten inches. A bit swishy.” You’d barely touched it before he was taking it away with a, “No, no.” He produced another one. “Ebony and dragon heartstring.” Another no. “Maple and phoenix feather.” It shocked you when you lifted it. “No…”

It went on and on. The growing pile of wands was making you queasy.

"Perhaps we should try…"

Dumbledore trailed off as Ollivander nodded and turned, retrieving yet another box. "Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."

You picked it up and nothing. Strangely that seemed to relieve Dumbledore.

Something in the back caught the wand maker’s attention, sending him behind the wall of boxes and out of sight. A commotion of some sort. Whistling?

He was back a moment later, another box in hand. But this was different from the others. Older, dust caked so tightly on its surface that his fingers barely disturbed it. “This,” he said, pulling back the lid to reveal a dark stained wand intricately carved with winding vines and tiny roses, “was one of my grandfathers from when he traveled through America. 12 ½ inches, climbing rose vine, horn of a horned serpent for a core. Rigid, unusual for a vine wood.”

You could feel it. Static dancing between it and your fingertips as you reached for it. How right it felt in your hand. Like you’d never felt magic, true magic before.

“They made that core illegal to harvest more than half a century ago,” Ollivander said, almost wistfully. “Too many slain horned serpents. A shame. Very powerful in the right hands, especially one as well paired as this. Vine.” His gaze shot back to you, his eyes so silver you could see yourself reflected back. “Yes, yes, don’t let its beauty deceive you. Very powerful indeed.”

Powerful. Not how you’d describe yourself after today. What great things could you ever truly accomplish when you had been relegated to the life of a wife, a mother, and a witch with someone else’s name? The future Mrs. Malfoy.

You paid the man seven galleons. It seemed too much and too little to pay for such a beautiful instrument that would never be used to its fullest potential.

“What would you say to dinner at the Leaky Cauldron?” Dumbledore asked when the door shut behind him.

Time away from stares and whispers? How could you decline?

The usually busy pub was as deserted as Diagon Alley. He led you to a corner booth meant for large parties, the waitress seeming a tad annoyed you’d come in at all. The food came soon after you ordered. A hint to get out quickly. Conversation had stuck to the safe subject of Transfiguration for a bit. But you weren’t able to hold back your biggest question for long. “Have you seen Rick recently?”

From his expression, he’d been waiting for your question. And dreading. “No, not recently.”

There was more you could ask. More you wanted to know to help you figure out why he’d become so distant. “If you see him before I do, can you tell him I miss him?” you asked instead.

His hesitation to affirm that he would was disheartening. You pushed a few potatoes around on your plate for a couple silent minutes before a ruckus outside had you turning your head to the window. A group of muggle women passed, smiling and chattering loudly. A new question struck you.

“Could we go out there?” you asked, watching them disappear out of sight.

“To the Muggle world?”

You looked at him with pleading eyes. “I’ve never really seen it.” He’s less hesitant to agree to that. You tried not to wonder why. When he asks if there’s anywhere in particular all you say is you wanted to see as much as possible.

It felt unreal to be walking the quickly emptying cobbled streets. Dumbledore explained that few people stayed out after dark thanks to the possibility of an air raid. You take in the architecture, amazed. They’d done all that without magic? Then you see the first markings of war. A building half demolished. Dumbledore called it a church. The further you walked the more you saw the Ministry’s lies. An entire block in ruins. Holes in the street. Charred stones. Evidence of a building attempting to be repaired only to have been struck again.

You aren’t given much time to lament. When you glanced back to admire a stagnant stained glass window again, you saw the same woman you’d seen four blocks back. She wasn’t hiding her interest in watching you.

Had Tom sent someone? Or was it himself in another disguise?

“We're being followed,” Dumbledore said lowly.

How delusional was Tom Riddle? He’d gotten away with everything. Why keep pushing? And in front of the one other person who saw right through him?

Quietly the professor instructed, “Turn down the next alley. I’ll Apparate us back to Hogsmeade. Be sure to hold tight.”

It wouldn’t stop him from following you. Tom and his goons would follow you anywhere. But you did as you were told and turned when a space opened between buildings. You’ve made it a few meters in when three people appeared at the other end of it, wands raised. Another trap you’d walked into.

Dumbledore was quick to stand protectively in front of you. You turned on your heel, new wand quickly raised, to face the woman as she blocked the way you’d come. “Not another step,” you warned.

“You are adorable,” the woman said through a heavy accent.

Dumbledore spoke loudly. “Whatever you want from me, leave her out of it. She’s just a child.”

A smile twisted on her lips. “Is that true? Are you just a child?” In spite of your warning she stepped further. “It was a pleasant surprise, Albus, to see you strolling through London. We expected you to be at Hogwarts.”

Oh. Oh. Fuck. This had nothing to do with you. This wasn’t Tom. They served someone far worse.

She didn’t let his non response end the conversation. “A storm is coming. Can you feel it?”

“Grindelwald’s coming here?” Dumbledore asked.

“Not yet,” said one of the others behind you. “But soon.”

“Freedom will come with him, as all wizardkind deserves. It’s not too late to join the right side of history.”

Anger prickled your skin, dulling whatever fear you’d felt. Any person who promised freedom in exchange for submission was a liar. “Save your spiel for someone who’ll believe it.”

Her head tilted, amused. “Are all Selwyns so obstinate?”

“Oh you should meet my mother,” you get out before the reality of what she’s said crashed into you. She knew who you were. She knew, maybe even fought, Warrick.

“Let her leave, Vinda. She has nothing to do with this.”

“Doesn’t she, Albus?” She took another step closer. “What concessions do you think her brother would make for her safe return? Her fiancé?” There was a gut twisting gleam in her eyes. “Your own minister?”

Venom filled your mouth. You would not be responsible to England’s fall to a madman.

The spell hit her in the chest, sending her flying backwards. You don’t see where she landed. Dumbledore had taken hold of your arm and spun. Black consumed your vision, the air squeezed from your lungs. You were stretched and pulled through a too small pipe, every part of you compressed unbearably.

Frigid wind ruffled your robes and you gulped the stinging air. You blinked in the world slowly. Trees. White covered ground. The sky grey and bright , disconcertingly so compared to the darkness that had been London.

Flashes of light.

Shit.

Dumbledore was beside you blocking spells from two of Grindelwald's followers. The third laid motionless in quickly reddening snow, missing half his head. You can’t think about it. Blood was dripping from Dumbledore. One collapsed under one of your Stunners. The other deflected it, but didn’t recover in time to stop Dumbledore’s.

The next second Dumbledore’s stumbling back, barely managing to stay standing even after you're there to hold him up. “I’m sorry,” he said breathlessly, clutching his side. You quieted him, shouldering part of his weight to escape the gruesome scene. You walked and walked and walked until he couldn’t anymore, just at the edge of a quickly running stream.

His breathing was labored as you guided him to the ground. You finally see why. A large, deep gash down his side. Another across his thigh. Splinched. Probably from trying to fight off the others mid-Apparition. The forest must not have been his original destination.

He’d lost a lot of blood.

Your hands shook as you attempted a healing charm. It did nearly nothing, just clotting along the edges of the bigger gash. You try again and again until they’re entirely scabbed over. It was supposed to heal them completely.

“It’s good enough,” Dumbledore said, pushing down your hand. “I feel much better.” He was sweating and nearly pale as the snow.

“They’ll be waking up soon.” Your eyes strayed to the footprints and drops of red. With a quick flick, new snow blew over the trail. Even with that you’d be easy to track in the bright night. “How far do you think we are from Hogsmeade?”

He shook his head. “Too far to walk, I'm sure. This isn’t the Forbidden Forest.”

You were lost. He couldn’t handle Appariting with his blood loss. Making a Portkey required a potion that you didn’t have. There was no fireplace around to use the Floo Network. You had no brooms and even if you did you didn’t think either of you would be able to fly them. Walking was the only option. If you followed the water there's a decent chance you'd come across civilization at least.

“We’ve got to keep moving.”

Neither of you were wearing clothing appropriate to go hiking through the forest. You didn’t have the same issue with transfiguaring clothes as you’d had with healing. A comfort, at least, that your new wand worked for more than just a few Stunning Spells. Your skirt stretched itself easily into pants, both robes and gloves thickened, your shoes stretched and hardened into winter boots. Despite the dire circumstances, Dumbledore commended your efforts. “Wonderfully done. Fifteen points to Ravenclaw.”

Having him stand again was a struggle, but you managed. To cover your tracks you walk the water. It wasn’t deep and your Transfigured boots kept the cold and wet away, but the mud that at the stream’s bottom slowed progress. You had no idea if you were heading the right way. You walked and walked and walked until your hopes that the water would lead you to salvation were dashed when it widened into a small pond.

It was at Dumbledore‘s suggestion that you stop. He didn’t seem like he could go much further. You do what you can to make him comfortable. Transfiguring a large rock into a cot, a smaller one into a cup. Warming water for him to drink. It was a good thing you’d eaten before this. You had no idea how to fish, hunt, or scavenge.

“Rest,” you told him. “I’ll keep watch.”

He resisted at first, but his eyes were already drooping as you cast the first Shield Charm. By time the glow of the Disillusionment Charm disappeared he’d fallen fast asleep. You considered sleep yourself. The idea was dismissed quickly. If they came looking, you didn’t want to be surprised. So instead you spent the hours memorizing every detail of your wand while you picked over everything you’d done wrong.

You hadn’t taken their wands. You couldn’t Apparate. You couldn’t heal Dumbledore. You hadn’t immediately covered your tracks. You’d followed a dead end with the stream.

Even with something as powerful as your beautiful new wand, you were still stranded in the middle of who knows where possibly being hunted by international war criminals. How could a witch be left so powerless? What would your mother say?

The only sign of morning was the increased activity of forest’s creatures. An eagle flying above. A rabbit hopping back and forth. A squirrel scurrying across a branch. Another eagle. A group of deer walking through the trees. Another eagle.

No. The same eagle.

Your eagle.

The horrid sensation of walking out the protective charms didn’t deter you. “Drein,” you cried as she landed on a low branch. She chirped happily under your pets. A rolled parchment was tied to her leg.

Where are you? Larissa said you never came to bed last night.

It was Abigail’s handwriting.

Bless them.

With no ink or quill or parchment of your own, you made due with what you had. The ink lifted easily from the parchment. You put it in the cup you’d given Dumbledore for water. A stick quickly whittled into a pointed end.

Unknown forest. Grindelwald’s followers attacked. Dumbledore hurt. Send help. Bring Blood Restore.

Someone would have to do a Trace. They would need something of yours. Something that you’d had recently. You went to pull your ring off only to realize it wasn’t there. An earring instead then. You rolled the parchment tight around the earring and tied it back to her leg. “Be quick, please.”

With a chirp and flap of her wings, she was off.

You weren’t sure how much time passed. Your only tell of time was the rabbit hopping back and forth in the snow. By his sixth time crossing your eyes were feeling heavy. It wouldn’t hurt to rest them for a bit. Help would be there soon.

Only as your head began to lull to the side a sound came that didn’t belong in the tranquil forest. The crunch of boots on snow. You shot up in a mix of hope and terror. Who’d found you first?

A pit formed in your stomach. The woman. The one Dumbledore called Vinda. She was alone at least. There was no urgency either as she approached. That calmed you. She was investigating and when she found nothing she would move on. So you watched silently, hand clenched tightly around your wand. Back and forth she went on the opposite bank. Searching back and forth. She moved on, circling along the shore. Back and forth. She was only a meter away. But your Charms held. She continued back and forth until she was at the mouth again. Nothing. You’d covered your tracks too well. She gave a final sweeping glance and turned.

Dumbledore groaned.

You shot a Silencing Charm at him.

She stopped.

You didn’t breathe.

The rabbit bounded across the snow.

She watched it disappear.

She started walking again until she too disappeared from sight.

You listened as her footsteps faded.

You waited.

And waited.

The rabbit bounded back across the snow.

You barely stifled a scream when a hand touched your shoulder.

Next Part

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