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braveclementine · 7 days

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Chapter 15

Warnings: None, Readers under 18 can read this book. It is solely fluff- nothing sexual

Copyright: I do not own any Wizarding World characters that J.K. Rowling wrote. I do however own Elizabeth Kane (main character) and Trang Nyguen (best friend). There should be no use of these two names without my permission. I also do not condone any copying of this.

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𝕴 𝖜𝖔𝖐𝖊 𝖚𝖕 in the hospital wing.

To my surprise, Professor Snape was sitting there with Professor Dumbledore. They were sitting on standard wooden chairs. Dumbledore looked rather comfortable, one leg crossed over the other, almost leaning back. Snape did not. He sat rather stiffly, arms crossed over his chest, his legs bent and feet flat on the floor. His jaw was set.

I sat up slowly, feeling along the beside table for my glasses before remembering that I hadn't worn them for at least nine months. Looking around, I saw Harry laying in another bed, sleeping. I touched my head gingerly and found that it had been bandaged.

"How do you feel Elizabeth?" Dumbledore asked gently.

"Umm, good, I think?" I answered uncertainly. Then I panicked, "Oh! I need to send my father a letter! I told him about what was going-"

Dumbledore raised a hand. "I already owled him."

"Oh good." I said, relaxing, also wondering how Dumbledore knew who my father was. "How's Harry?"

"He's well. I saved him just in time."

I nodded, wondering what he was doing here.

"You knew all this was going to happen beforehand, did you not?" Professor Dumbledore asked kindly.

I shot Snape an annoyed, embarrassed look. He looked away so that I couldn't see his face.

"Yes, Severus told me about your futuristic visions, I believe that's what you called them?" Dumbledore asked calmly.

I reluctantly said, "Well, I saw the future of this adventure, but only if Harry, Hermione, and Ron had gone without me. I don't know why I wasn't in it, but yeah."

Professor Dumbledore nodded. "But in the end, you do know the future, correct?"

I hesitated. "No and yes. I can only see things up to the end of the year. The school year, anyways. It's weird but I don't really see things until they start happening. For instance, I didn't really know that Quirrell was the one trying to steal the stone until he tried to kill Harry during the Quidditch match. Unfortunately, Hermione only saw Professor Snape and thought he was the one trying to kill Harry." I shot another look at Professor Snape. He looked surly now.

"I see." Professor Dumbledore said. "Now, I'd like you to tell me what happened down there, at least until you were on the chess board."

I repeated what had happened and how, in the end, I knew I'd have to be sacrificed so that the others continued.

Professor Dumbledore and Snape listened carefully. I tried to describe the hazy experienced I'd had when we'd come out of the underground, and got frustrated by not being able to explain it. Dumbledore held up a hand and I stopped talking.

"You've been through enough and I won't press you anymore. Get some rest." He stood calmly and smiled at me. Then he left, leaving me with Professor Snape.

We stared at each other for a moment. I, glaring at him, he staring back- unfazed. "He needed to know Elizabeth."

I sighed, looking away. I really wasn't angry at him. "I hate when people know." I muttered. "Then they always ask what's going to happen and sometimes I don't know."

"Yes." Snape said slyly, smirking. "Because so many other people know about your little secret."

I blushed deeply and quickly changed the subject. "How did I get here? The last thing I remember was being in a hallway. . ."

"I carried you." Professor Snape said, frowning now. "When you fell, you were clutching your head. I wasn't sure what was happening and Miss Granger mentioned you might be having a vision. Well, Mr. Weasley and Professor McGonagall were confused, but I knew what she was talking about of course. So, I picked you up and brought you here. I really wasn't sure what else to do."

I sighed, rubbing my forehead. "I'd never had a vision like that before. It was like I was Harry instead of just visualizing the future. So when Quirrell and Voldemort caused Harry pain, it was like I could feel it too."

"I'd rather you don't say the Dark Lord's name." Snape said stiffly.

I rolled my eyes, "Fine."

There was an awkward silence where we stared at each other for a moment. Professor Snape finally stood.

"Professor!" I said quickly. "Umm. . .I was reading one of your Dark Arts books about Vampires. Er, do you think I could read it while I'm in here?"

He dipped his head, "I'll get it for you."

He was gone and back in a few minutes, handing me the book. I took it eagerly, opening back up to the page I had been on about vampires living among humans.

Professor Snape headed for the hospital wing doors before pausing. "Get better soon." He turned to leave and then stopped at the door. "And, Miss Kane? If you still want those private Potion lessons, we can start next year."

I smiled, feeling elated. "Yes, please!"

He seemed a little taken aback and then he did something with his mouth that might've been a smile and left the room.

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𝕴 𝖑𝖊𝖋𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖊 hospital wing the next day and found myself bombarded with people who wanted to know what had happened. I wondered how they'd found out that I'd been there.

Of course, Hermione and Ron were being questioned by people too. Perhaps one of them had mentioned something about me being there. Or perhaps it had been because I had been in the hospital wing with Harry.

I mostly told exactly what had happened up to the point of the wizards' chess board. Most people thought I was brave, taking the sacrifice. Some people asked me why I wasn't in Gryffindor. It was slightly overwhelming.

To escape such things, I spent an unusual amount of time in Hagrid's cabin, Snape's bedroom/library, or in the Forbidden Forest conversing with Firenze, Ronan, and many other Centaurs.

Hagrid had cried a fair deal, blaming himself for the state Harry was in. I tried to calm him down and helped Hagrid make Harry's new picture album. The plus side being I could see my parents, while also being seen on the outside as someone simply helping with a present.

Sirius was in some of the pictures as well. The wedding picture being my favorite where he was best man. There were no pictures of me, my parents had never sent any of me out. But there was baby Harry in some of the pictures. I loved looking at the photos and if there were any duplicates, I slipped them off the table when Hagrid wasn't looking and put them in my bag. There were more pictures here than Lupin had at home.

Speaking of dad. . .

He was both extremely angry and extremely pleased with my performance. He was, of course, upset that I had put myself in such a dangerous position but also admitted that it was something that probably both my parents- but definitely James- would've done.

I was also grounded this summer.

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𝕸𝖆𝖉𝖆𝖒 𝕻𝖔𝖒𝖋𝖗𝖊𝖞 𝖈𝖆𝖒𝖊 out to let us know that we had five minutes to talk to Harry though I knew in the end we'd get about 15.

"Harry!" Hermione cried, rushing over, looking like she was going to throw her arms around him. I swallowed hard, a little jealous. Were Harry and I good enough friends that I could hug him? But Hermione didn't throw her arms around him and my stomach settled a little better.

"Oh, Harry, we were sure you were going to- Dumbledore was so worried-" Hermione started and stopped and started again.

"The whole school's talking about it" Ron said.

"Yeah," I interjected. "Everyone has their own theories." I said with a smile, leaning against the wall.

"What really happened?" Ron asked.

Harry started off where he passed through the flames and saw that it wasn't Snape or Voldemort. "It was Quirrell, and of course, I was surprised. I couldn't believe that it was him. So I guess you were right Elizabeth." He said reluctantly. I nodded, trying not to feel superior. I did have insider knowledge.

"Anyways, then I said that Snape tried to kill me. Quirrell said that he tried to kill me. Snape was actually trying to save me, muttering a counter-curse. But he said that Snape knocked him over when Hermione set fire to Snape and that he himself got set on fire and was a bit distracted by that." Harry said with a grin. "Guess that was you, wasn't it Elizabeth?"

I shrugged. "Just to be on the safe side of course."

"Of course." Harry said.

"That's why Snape wanted to referee the next game!" Hermione said. "So that he could protect you if Quirrell tried to kill you again."

Harry nodded. "But Quirrell couldn't do anything with Dumbledore there. Quirrell then tied me up with ropes from the ceiling. I couldn't move. He thought that we'd seen him try and get the stone on Halloween. He was the one that let the Troll in."

"Of course." Hermione whispered. "The troll was the Defense Against the Dark Arts obstacle. I should've known."

"You can't blame yourself Hermione." Harry said. "Anyways, he was looking into the Mirror of Erised. That was Dumbledores' obstacle. I asked Quirrell about seeing Snape and him in the forest. He said that Snape was already on to him, as we already should've known judging by Halloween. He said that Snape tried to frighten him back onto the other side. Then I asked why Snape hated me so much. It's because he went to Hogwarts with my father, but he never wanted me dead. So then, I told him I heard him sobbing in the empty room the other day. Fear flitted across his face. He told me that he finds it hard to follow his master's instructions."

Hermione gasped in horror. "You-know-who was in the room with him?"

Harry nodded, and gave a little shudder. "He said 'He is with me wherever I go'. He said that he was the one who had tried to break into Gringotts. That was when I remembered that I had seen him in the Leaky Cauldron the same day I'd been there- the same day that Gringotts had been broken into! I couldn't distract Quirrell anymore, I didn't have anymore questions. He thought that perhaps the stone was inside the mirror and he had to break it. I realized that if I wanted to find the stone more than Quirrell, I should see where it was so I tried to move in front of the mirror. Then, a voice spoke out of nowhere saying 'Use the boy. . . use the boy. . ."

Hermione was shivering on the bed, listening intently to Harry's story. Ron was sitting there with his mouth partially open. I had goosebumps on my arms. I rubbed them.

"I couldn't see where the voice was coming from but Quirrell unbound me and made me stand in front of the mirror. I walked in front of the mirror, preparing myself to lie. I saw my own reflection, and wondered if it was even the same mirror but then my reflection smiled at me, and put its hand in its pocket and pulled out a blood-red stone-"

An image of the stone flashed in my mind again. Blood-red and sparkling on a stone stairs. I blinked my eyes quickly.

"-I'd gotten the stone. He asked me what I'd seen and I said I saw myself shaking hands with Dumbledore because I'd won the house cup for Gryffindor. Quirrell pushed me aside and I could feel the Sorcerer's stone against my leg. I was going to make a run for it, but my legs wouldn't move. The voice spoke again, 'He lies. . . he lies.' Quirrell told me to come back and asked me what I had really seen. The voice spoke once again, in an even higher pitch, 'Let me speak to him. . . face-to-face'. Quirrell got really nervous about that but then he started taking off his turban. When he turned around, Voldemort's face was on the back of Quirrell's head."

Hermione screamed, making me jump. Ron gasped. "yeesh Hermione." I muttered, sticking a finger in my ear and moving it around. I was going to go deaf and I already had a bit of a hearing problem.

Harry chuckled at me, and continued with his story, "He was the one that was drinking the unicorn blood the night we had detention. Quirrell's been drinking the blood so that he can keep Voldemort alive. Then, he told me to give him the stone out of my pocket. So really, he already knew I had it which is incredible considering he couldn't even see me before. I was finally able to move my legs and I stumbled backwards. He- he umm" Harry frowned. "He then told me that my dad had died first."

My heart lurched. Dad had died first? Those weren't things that could be told to people or seen in visions.

"Apparently dad put up a courageous fight." Harry said, with a small, twisted smile. "But he said mum needn't have died and she only died because she was trying to protect me."

I couldn't breathe. I was frozen in place. I had never known. . . mum never had to have died? She could've been spared and it would've been just me and her. No, I shouldn't have thought like that. But. . .

I had an image, a normal daydream, that she had stepped aside. Voldemort would've spared her. It would've been me and her. . . I could've avenged Dad and Harry as I'd grown up. . .

But that selfish and wrong. I should be glad that mum had died for Harry. After all, now I was going to get to know my brother, even if I would never know my parents. You could replace parents- you couldn't replace siblings. Not really anyways.

"He told me to give up the stone or die. I told him I would never give him the stone. I tried to run back towards the flame door, but Quirrell managed to catch me. When he touched my skin, my scar started to burn, more painfully than it did in the forest. Quirrell let go because his hand was blistering. He couldn't touch me without hurting himself. Of course, there were other ways to kill me and that was what he was going to do but I obviously wasn't going to let that happen. So I reached up and grabbed his face which also started blistering."

I flinched. Harry and I had to be more connected because when he felt pain, I felt it too, just differently. But how? Besides our blood we had no connection. I had no scar. Our minds couldn't possibly be linked- that was just a twin myth. So why did I feel the locket burn when Harry's scar burned?

"Anyways, I blacked out. Professor Dumbledore told me that he had just nearly saved me in time. When I awoke, he was already here. Apparently Fred and George tried sending me a toilet seat." Harry's lips twitched as he waved his hand to where stacks of boxes of candy were.

I laughed along with Ron. Hermione only looked slightly amused.

"He said the stone was going to be destroyed. I also asked him if Voldemort was going to try and come back. He said that he was out there, looking for another body. Dumbledore also told me that the reason Quirrell could not touch me was because my mother had died to save me. I think he said exactly, 'love as powerful as your mother's for you leaves its own mark.' Apparently its supposed to be very old magic. Oh, and Dumbledore was the one who sent me the invisibility cloak."

"Really?" Ron, Hermione, and I all asked. I had to admit, I hadn't seen that one coming.

And now I was really glad that mum had died for Harry. Voldemort could not touch him now.

"I also asked Dumbledore if Snape really hated my father. Apparently they hated each other, like Malfoy and me. But apparently my father saved Snape's life which is why Dumbledore thinks he tried so hard to keep me safe." Harry suddenly shot me a strange look. "Is it true that Quirrell already tried to kill you twice this year?"

I blushed deep red. I'd hoped that never had to come up. "Oh, erm, well uh. . . yes?"

"Why didn't you tell us?" Ron asked, throwing his arms up in frustration.

I blushed even deeper. "I couldn't. Every time I opened my mouth to tell you guys I always ended up saying something else or not being able to say anything at all!"

"Might've been some sort of tongue-twisted curse Quirrell put on you before." Hermione said, thinking that not telling them was related to something magical rather than my visions. Or maybe, I really couldn't have told them. After all, my visions were a type of magic. "I can't believe you were in so much danger."

"Professor Snape already suspected so he was able to put the clues together without me being able to tell him much." I said, able to tell them everything now. "That's why he started tutoring me in Defense Against the Dark Arts- so that I never had to be in a room with Quirrell ever again."

"Why were you in trouble with him in the first place?" Harry asked, sitting up a little farther and grabbing a box of Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans and prying it open.

"I was studying in a completely empty room. I lost track of time and I could hear people talking in another room. I recognized Quirrell's voice but there was another voice that I could hear. Obviously, I knew I shouldn't have been listening and I could get in trouble so I packed up my stuff to leave. Either I was too loud, or Voldemort knew the same way that he knew Harry had the stone in my pocket. Either way, he chased me around the castle and I only barely managed to escape. The second time, I wasn't watching where I was going and I ended up walking straight into him. He brought me into an empty classroom and locked the door but I escaped by jumping through a window."

"That was you!" Hermione screeched, making me jump again. I rubbed my ear, annoyed. "I heard about that!"

"What? Sorry?" Ron asked. "I'm confused."

"A girl apparently jumped through a window and used the flying spell right before she landed. Everyone thought she was doing a stunt." Hermione said. "That was so dangerous Elizabeth!"

"Believe me, I know. I was there." I said, my lips twitching as I tried not to smile. I was still a little proud of myself for doing that. Maybe I'd do it once every year as a stunt. It could be my signature move. . . Dad might kill me though.

"So," Ron said attentively looking back up at Harry, "The stones' gone? Flamel's just going to die?"

"That's what I said, but Dumbledore thinks that- what was it? -'to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure.'"

"I always said he was off his rocker." Ron said. He looked impressed. I almost laughed.

"So what about you three?" Harry asked, probably glad he could stop talking.

"Well I got back all right." Hermione said. "I brought Elizabeth around which only took a few minutes though it took Ron longer to come around. Then we flew back up out of the dungeons and we ran into Professor Snape and McGonagall who were coming to the third-floor corridor. That's when we knew you weren't facing Snape down there. Dumbledore came along and hurtled off to the third-floor corridor. He seemed to already know you're down there, much to everyone's shock and then-" Hermione shot me a look. "Elizabeth kind've fainted, I'm not sure. But she seemed to be in pain and that. . . scared?. . . Professor Snape. He quickly picked her up off the ground and carried her to the hospital wing. I think even McGonagall was shocked about his attitude."

I blushed deeper then I had ever blushed before and put my head in my hands. I instantly regretted it, feeling the cut on my head and winced, jerking my head up out of my hands.

"D'you think he meant you to do it? Sending you your father's cloak and everything?" Ron asked hesitantly, looking at Harry. He was talking about Dumbledore.

"Well! If he did- I mean to say- that's terrible! You could have been killed!" Hermione exploded angrily.

"No it isn't." Harry said, slowly, thinking it through. He looked up at the ceiling. "He's a funny man, Dumbledore. I think he sort of wanted to give me a chance. I think he knows more or less everything that goes on here, you know. I reckon he had a pretty good idea we were going to try, and instead of stopping us, he just taught us we were going to try, and instead of stopping us, he just taught us enough to help. I don't think it was an accident he let me find out how the mirror worked. It's almost like he thought I had the right to face Voldemort if I could. . ."

"Yeah, Dumbledore's off his rocker, all right." Ron said, sounding almost proud now.

"Not a very good system is it?" I asked, amused. The other three looked at me. "I mean, Hogwarts is a great school, but if first years can get through the defenses, are they really that great? I think Dumbledore should've just kept the stone in his pocket. No one would've dared get it then!"

They laughed. Then Ron said, "Yeah, but you're more like a fourth-year or something so you don't count." And we all laughed again. Ron turned to Harry again, "Listen, you've got to be up for the end-of-year feast tomorrow. The points are all in and Slytherin won, of course- you missed the last Quidditch match, we were steamrolled by Ravenclaw without you- but the food'll be good."

"Gryffindor's last, Hufflepuff's third, Ravenclaw's second, and Slytherin's first." I muttered for Harry's sake.

Hermione shook her head and started to say, "I thought Hufflepuff was in-"

Madam Pomfrey came over, waving a bottle of medicine at us. "You've had nearly twenty minutes, now OUT!"

I never found out what Hermione was going to say.

I drifted away from them and then found myself running outside to the forest. The trees became blurs and I ran for a few minutes before there was a burn in my stomach. I didn't even look to see where I was. I dropped to my knees, put my hands in my face, and started to cry for my parents, for Harry, and for me.

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𝕴 𝖘𝖆𝖙 𝖇𝖊𝖙𝖜𝖊𝖊𝖓 Susan and Hannah and we waited for the feast to start, a little down about the winners of the house cup- again. Harry walked into the room at that moment and the entire Great Hall went quiet for a moment, and then started back up as people started to talk again.

I waited, patiently, instead of joining in on the conversations. The truth had not gotten around to people. Dumbledore thought it would be best not to start a panic with the idea that Voldemort had been in the classroom with all the students for a year now. Even if Voldemort hadn't had a body of his own.

Dumbledore arrived a few moments later. Conversation died away, and everyone turned their heads up to the High Table. I stared in distaste at the large green banner on the back wall, sporting a silver snake.

"Another year, gone! And I must trouble you with an old man's wheezing waffle before we sink our teeth into our delicious feast. What a year it has been! Hopefully your heads are all a little fuller than they were. . . you have the whole summer to get them nice and empty before next year starts. . ." Dumbledore said quite cheerfully.

I shook my head, If I forgot anything, it would be a miracle and a tragedy.

"Now, as I understand it, the house cup here needs awarding and the points stand thus. In fourth place, Gryffindor, with three hundred and twelve points; in third, Ravenclaw;-" the name gave me a jolt. That didn't line up with the end of first year vision at all "-with four hundred and seventeen points; Hufflepuff has four hundred and twenty-two and Slytherin, four hundred and seventy-two."

A storm of cheering broke my thoughts, and stamping feet broke out from Slytherin table. I didn't look over though I could hear the banging of goblets on the wooden table behind me. I looked up briefly at the High Table where Snape looked, for perhaps the first time, something close to happy. Or at least, he had a somewhat smile on his face. Maybe he was being mean again. What was that word again. . . Gloating! That's it. He was gloating.

"Yes, yes, well done, Slytherin." Dumbledore said, an odd glint in his eyes, "However, recent events must be taken into account."

The room went very still, I didn't think perhaps anyone except me was breathing. I glanced behind me and saw that none of the Slytherin's were smiling anymore, goblets frozen in their hands.

"Ahem. I have a few last-minute points to dish out. Let me see. Yes. . ." Dumbledore drifted off and then said. "First- to Miss Elizabeth Kane. . ."

I grew bright red and mortified. No, I thought, No, why are you announcing me in front of the entire school!

". . .There are many categories of courage, the courage of survival and the courage of knowing that one must sacrifice itself so that others have the opportunity to continue. I award Hufflepuff house, fifty points."

The Hufflepuffs mentally added that up and then cheered. Then there were whispers that broke out among the tables. We were tied exactly with the Slytherin's. Susan and Hannah were both hugging me, and I was stunned. Not enough, I thought randomly, but I was still pleased.

"To Mr. Ronald Weasley, for the best-played game of chess Hogwarts has ever seen in many years, I award Gryffindor house fifty points."

I could hear Percy over the Gryffindors cheers shouting, "My brother, you know! My younger brother! Got past McGonagall's giant chess set!"

"Second- to Miss Hermione Granger. . .for the use of cool logic in the face of fire. I award Gryffindor house fifty points."

Hermione buried her face in her arms and I caught eyes with Harry and grinned. The other Gryffindors were beside themselves. The Hufflepuffs had gained a little bit of their dignity and were staring a little happily, and little upset at the idea that we'd been so close to winning and yet now, so far. A little cruel of Dumbledore, perhaps he should've just not given me points, I thought, but I was more amused than anything else.

"Third- to Mr. Harry Potter. . .for pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor house sixty points."

It was perhaps at that moment that I realized I was now deaf. Gryffindor was tied with Hufflepuff and Slytherin and all three tables were yelling. I threw a glance at Ravenclaw, they just looked completely stunned. If only Dumbledore had given either Harry or me one extra point.

Dumbledore raised his hand and the tables stopped making noise. "There are all kinds of courage," Dumbledore said, "as we've stated already," and he motioned towards me and I grew red again. "It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends. I therefore award ten points to Mr. Neville Longbottom."

Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Gryffindor all upped and started- well I think they were cheering. I had stuffed my fingers in my ears. Susan pulled me up so that we could all act like we were cheering.

I was happy- I was- but I really do hate screaming. Dumbledore said something and clapped his hands. The silver and green turned into gold and red with lions.

I looked up at the high table again. Snape was shaking McGonagall's hand with a forced smile on his face. His eyes met mine and his expression softened for a half a second and then he turned away. I felt something odd stirring in my body and I quickly looked away from the table. It was time to celebrate the downfall of Slytherin.

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𝕴 𝖐𝖓𝖔𝖈𝖐𝖊𝖉 𝖔𝖓 the office door and heard a voice say, "Come in."

"Ah, Miss Kane." Professor McGonagall said as I opened the door, "Please, sit down."

The room was extremely proper. There was a bookcase on one of the walls, a rainbow of books on the shelves that I was itching to go check out. Her desk sat in front of a fireplace, a red, faded carpet in front of it. The desk was made of Mahogany wood, an ink pot on the corner of the desk, a quill stuck in it. There was also a few magical instruments on the other side of the desk. A pile of parchment was sitting in front of her. In front of her desk was a wooden chair.

I sat down, confused. "Er- you wanted to see me?"

"I wanted to ask how your head is doing." she sounded a bit nervous, if she could sound anything but stern. "After all, it's my fault you were hurt in the first place."

"Oh, no, no!" I exclaimed, realizing what this talk was about. "It's fine, really. Your job was to keep intruders out. You didn't think kids were going to be going in. Besides, I trust you. I knew the statues wouldn't kill us because you'd want the intruders alive. Really, my head is fine- you don't need to worry about it."

Professor McGonagall seemed hesitant and then she said, "you really do see much more than other students, don't you?"

I hesitated, trying to figure out the answer to her question. "Yes. . . perhaps. . . but I just think that I make connections faster."

We stared at each other for a moment. Finally she said, "Those tutoring lessons, do you still want them?"

I'm sure my eyes lit up, but I thought about the reality. "I'd love too, but I need to check my schedule next year and I am sorry about that. It will depend on if I make the Hufflepuff Quidditch team or not, the times of the practices if I make the team, and the days that Flitwick and Snape are going to tutor me as well. But if I have room, I would love to add your tutoring sessions as well!"

Professor McGonagall gave me a rare smile. "You really are the brightest student of the year aren't you?"

"No Professor." I said seriously. "That's Hermione Granger. But I do think that I want to learn the most out of everyone."

"That will be all." She said, looking just slightly puzzled.

"Have a nice summer Professor." I said as I left the room.

I felt giddy as I left the room. Three tutoring sessions?! I needed to learn Transfiguration more than I did charms. I didn't know as many transfiguration spells. But Flitwick was also my first tutor and I really didn't want to drop him or Snape. I already told dad that I would get on the Quidditch team- he had bought me that expensive broom after all.

"Hey Kane!" Came a sly voice behind me. My joy popped instantaneously.

Stupidly, I turned. It was Malfoy and his two cronies. "What do you guys want?" I asked coldly.

"Oh, we just wanted to ask if you objected to a little duel?" Draco asked, getting in my face. His friends cracked their knuckles and I wondered if they meant a physical duel.

I drew my wand and smiled pleasantly at him. "Not at all." I was aware of the fact that my back was quite literally against the wall.

Draco also drew his wand, pointing it towards my face. "I do happen to think that getting rid of Quirrell was a bad idea. You should've let him get the stone."

"Why? Because Voldemort was on the back of his head? Want to see the Dark Lord rise again?" I asked, dropping my pleasant face. "Or perhaps your daddy wanted him to rise to have someone to serve-"

Malfoy's face flushed and he raised his wand quickly.

"Draco, what are you doing?" A different voice came down the hallway. Professor Snape. I didn't lower my wand until Draco did.

"Oh, hello there Professor Snape!" Draco said in a simmering voice. "Elizabeth thought she ought to test us"

"Yes." Professor Snape said slowly. "I'm sure that was the case considering she was the one with her back pressed against the wall and you three surrounding her."

Draco blushed red. "Well-"

"Fair warning Draco, I may favor my Slytherin students, but I do not favor bullying either." He turned towards me. "Follow me Miss Kane."

I followed him without giving the others a backwards look. We found ourselves in an empty classroom.

"How's your head?" Snape asked after the door closed behind us.

"You brought me all the way in here to ask me how my head is?" I asked, crossing my arms. He didn't relent. "It's fine." I muttered. "Why's everyone so worried about my stupid head?"

His lips twitched as though he was trying not to smile. He sighed, "Actually, Elizabeth-"

"Why do you call me Elizabeth when we're not around anyone but call me by my last name when I'm around people?" I asked, not accusatorily but curiously.

A light tinge of colour appeared on his cheeks. "Sorry, I never noticed."

I shrugged. "It doesn't matter to me, I was simply curious."

He seemed to have lost his train of thought, instead, stared at me, confused. "Never mind." he finally said. "It seems I've forgotten what I was going to say. You're infuriating, did you know that?"

I rolled my eyes and sighed. "Don't you have a potion that could cure that?"

"Well as you'll learn next year, we don't have a potion for everything." Snape said but this time he smiled. I was a bit shocked, I'd never seen a true smile on him before.

I saw the vision of him and my mum again, he was smiling there, that was true. I yelped, my hand darting up to my forehead though nothing was there. There'd been a flash of another vision, something black and dark and I couldn't see.

"Are you alright?" Snape asked, frowning now. "Is your-"

"If you ask me about my bloody head one more time. . ." I muttered threateningly.

"Very well." He sounded amused again. "that will be all."

We walked towards the door and then I stopped and turned and hugged him quickly. His entire body froze and he made a sound like air being let out of a balloon. I nearly laughed but managed to say, "Thank you for everything this year Professor."

Then, without looking up to see his reaction, I darted out the door and down the hallway, a victorious smile on my face.

❤️

𝖂𝖊 𝖌𝖔𝖙 𝖔𝖚𝖗 exam results back before school ended. Hermione and I compared our scores to see who had the highest score. We were tied. I had a higher grade in charms and Herbology but her transfiguration score and astronomy made up the difference. The Weasley twins and Lee were amused by this and endlessly teased us about our scores.

I packed my trunk, having less space going home than I had coming here considering I had brought books from Christmas. I decided not to put my school bag in my trunk and filled my bag with a majority of the books. I put all my letters and new pictures in a small pocket of my bag.

Harry, Ron, Hermione, Fred, George, Lee, and I all shared a compartment on the way back. They asked us for a full account of what happened down in the dungeons. Then, we played a laughing game and whoever laughed had to eat one Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. I had a hard time with this game since I laughed easily. Luckily, I got mostly good ones though I had grass twice and dirt once.

We pulled up to Kings Cross Station and Fred, George, and Lee exited first and we stayed behind in the carriage for a moment, picking up spare items we'd brought with us.

"You must come and stay this summer," Ron was saying a few steps ahead of us to Harry. He shouted back, "All of you- I'll send you guys an owl."

"Thanks, I'll need something to look forward to." Harry said. We stepped off the train and other students started to call out to us- well Harry anyways.

"Bye Harry!"

"See you, Potter!"

"Still famous?" Ron asked, grinning at Harry.

"Not where I'm going, I promise you." Harry said. The four of us went through the barrier.

On the other side, I immediately spotted dad, hanging back from the other parents. Ron led the three of us over to his mother. Mrs. Weasley smiled at Harry. "Busy year?" She asked.

"Very. Thanks for the fudge and the sweater, Mrs. Weasley."

"Oh, it was nothing, dear." She said. "And you two are?"

"Oh this is Hermione Granger and Elizabeth Kane." Ron said. "Friends of mine."

"Nice to meet you." I said, shaking her hand. Hermione did the same.

"Ready, are you?"

I looked up at the sound of a new voice. There was a very fat man standing there. He had absolutely no neck and and very little hair. But he did have a very big mustache. Behind him was a young boy, perhaps my age, nearly as big as him, and a woman quite the opposite of them. She was tall and thin with a lot of hair. She looked very professional and feminine. I quite liked the way she dressed. Very proper.

"You must be Harry's family!" Mrs. Weasley said.

So then, this was my uncle, nephew, and aunt? I looked them over again. Hmmm. . .

I locked eyes with my Aunt. Multiple emotions flashed over her face and she stared at me in horror and fear. Maybe I looked too much like my mother. Her eyes locked in on the silver locket. I'd started wearing it on the outside of my clothes so if it did burn me, I would feel the heat through my clothes. Of course, she would recognize it. Her face paled greatly. I quickly tucked the locket under my clothes.

"See you guys next year." I said hurriedly to Hermione and Ron. I hugged Hermione and hurried over to where my father was standing. I didn't want my aunt to say anything in front of Harry. I didn't want to hear anything about if I was his sister or not.

"Hi?" I said uncertainly, looking up at my father's tired face. He stared down at me for a long moment, and then he smiled, and swept me up into his arms. I locked my body around his so I could stay aloft longer.

"Oh I've missed you so much." He said, kissing my cheek. His arms were strong, safe, and I felt happy.

"You're not mad anymore?" I asked hopefully, kissing his cheek back. I could see my Aunt craning her neck to see who I was hugging out of the corner of my eye.

"Oh I'm furious." He said, a twinkle in his eyes as he set me down again. "But I've missed you. I'm just glad you're safe."

I risked another glance at my Aunt who was still staring at me. "Let's go home." I said, taking his large comforting hand in my tiny one.

I couldn't wait to come back next year

⬅️➡️

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drarrily-we-row-along · 3 years

Text

Day 106: Eyes

"Malfoy," a voice called as his hair was pushed out of his face and his chin was tilted slightly. "Malfoy," the voice repeated.

Draco was quite certain he must be hallucinating, there was no way that it was who it sounded like.

"Draco," that voice said again, "Wake up."

His eyes fluttered open and he groaned in pain as the light seared through his retinas and straight into his brain.

"Hey," Harry bloody Potter said.

He opened his mouth and spit out a bit of blood.

"Merlin," Potter said, "Do you think you can stand?"

"Yeah," he grunted. "Yes. I'm fine. Thank you for your assistance, Potter."

The other boy huffed a laugh, "Sure. Come on. Let me help you get to Madam Pomfrey."

He shook his head, "Don't let me keep you from your important life," Draco said as he stood up and reached out to steady himself on the wall.

"Draco," he said.

Looking through his swollen eye, he tried to glare at the other boy. "Harry." he parroted.

"You don't have to be so stubborn," he said with a laugh.

He took a step toward the infirmary and his knees buckled.

Potter caught him and put an arm around his waist. "Come on."

(Read more below the cut)

"What? No one else to save?" Draco asked through clenched teeth as he started to hobble off down the hallway using Potter as little as possible.

"Not at the moment, no," Potter quipped. "You want to tell me who did this to you?"

He let out a humorless chuckle, "It doesn't matter."

Potter hummed and caught Draco when he started to slip a bit. "I've got you," he murmured.

Draco tried not to let the words go to his head.

----------

After they'd reached the infirmary Potter tried again to get Draco to tell him what had happened but there was honestly no point.

Madam Pomfrey had shooed Potter out and then Draco had a few hours of peace and quiet while his wounds were healed. Fortunately he had a good book in his school bag, which Potter had carried up for him.

"Why don't you stay over night, love," Madam Pomfrey said and Draco looked up from his book. "You're not quite ready to go back yet and it's just about bed time anyway."

"Thank you," he replied, giving her a little smile before going back to his book.

Shortly thereafter, the door to the infirmary flew open and Draco's head snapped up. Normally an entry of that magnitude meant that something horrible had happened.

But it was just Potter, looking thunderous as he stormed over to Draco's bed.

"Madam Pomfrey's just gone to bed," he said as he closed his book and set it on his lap. "If you've come here to inflict more damage, perhaps you could wait until the morning for her sake."

That stopped the other man in his tracks. "I'm sorry. What?"

"Just, whatever it is that's made you look murderous, I'm sure it's warranted but I do think that Madam Pomfrey deserves a good rest, don't you?"

"I'm not," he shook his head, "I'm not here to hurt you."

"Oh."

Potter rubbed a hand over his face. "I found Smith."

"Ah," he replied.

"He said that you didn't even raise your wand to cast a shield charm to protect yourself," Potter said as though he was personally offended by this.

Draco shrugged.

"Why?" Potter asked. "Hermione thinks it's because the Ministry has told you what spells you can and can't cast, and if that's the case, I'll write a letter to Kingsley right now-"

"It's not because of the Ministry," he interrupted.

"Then why-" he started before pulling over a chair and plopping down next to Draco's bed, "Why do you keep letting this happen to you?"

"I don't see them," Draco replied, staring at his hands that were twisting together in his lap.

"Look me in the eye and tell me that you don't see them," Potter replied.

He shook his head, "Why does it matter?"

"Draco," he said, "You can tell me-"

"There's nothing to tell," he snapped.

"Look, I know that the war was hard on all of us-"

"You have no idea what the war was like for people like me," he interrupted, trying to keep his breathing under control and his voice low.

"No, I suppose you're right," Potter replied and Draco couldn't help but look over at him. "Would you like to tell me?"

"No!" he exclaimed. "There is nothing to tell! Just like there's no reason for me to tell you who keeps cursing me. And there is no reason for me to tell you that I don't stop them because I deserve it!"

They both sat in stunned silence; Draco breathing heavily, his heart hammering away in his chest and Potter just stared at him.

Potter broke first, "You-"

"Don't," Draco said, shaking his head. "Circe, Potter, don't say it. Don't tell me that I don't deserve it because we both know that isn't true."

"Draco," he breathed and it was like he was shoving a jagged, rusty knife straight through his chest.

"Don't," he repeated, begging this time.

"Draco, listen to me."

He shook his head and to his mounting horror a tear spilled from his eyes.

"It wasn't your fault," Potter said.

"Don't," he begged, wrapping his arms around his stomach as though it could stop the way his entire body felt like it was unraveling. "People died-"

"Yes," Potter agreed. "People died on both sides. From your actions, from death eaters actions, from the Order's actions, from my actions; people died. You never actually killed anyone, though. You don't have it in you."

"Potter, I am culpable for-"

"You never killed anyone." Potter repeated. "You didn't want to hurt people, you didn't want to kill people, you just wanted to protect your mum."

"Don't." He shook his head, "You don't understand."

"I actually killed someone," the other boy replied.

"The Dark Lord doesn't coun-"

"When I was eleven," Potter started and Draco was so shocked by those words that he didn't even interrupt. "You remember all of the commotion at the end of the year or first year?"

He nodded slowly.

"I killed Professor Quirrell," he said. "Long story short, because of the blood magic protecting me, he couldn't touch me and it killed him."

"But that's not-"

"Second year, Tom Riddle was sucking Ginny's life force so that he could come back, I killed him. I stabbed the horocrux with a basilisk fang and I didn't even think about it," he continued.

"But-"

"Last year, Pettigrew died because he owed me a life debt and he tried to kill me."

"But-"

"I not only was responsible for Voldemort's death the first time and the second time, I was responsible for killing seven pieces of his soul."

"But it's not the same!" he finally managed to get in.

"Why?"

"Because you were on the right side of things and I wasn't!"

The other boy shook his head, "Yeah but it's not like you wanted to be on that side."

"When I was young-"

"Oh sure," he agreed, "you were a complete arse. But we wouldn't have won if you had turned me in, if you hadn't given me your wand, if you'd killed Dumbledore. It's not who you are any more."

"Still," Draco whispered. "I fixed that closet."

He nodded, "And I can't count the number of things that I've done to cause deaths. Godric, Draco," he shook his head, "I don't sleep well as it is, but I'd never sleep if I held myself responsible for all of the horrible things that happened because of my actions."

"Potter-"

"Look, it doesn't have to happen in a day, but you can't keep doing this, Draco. You can't keep letting people hurt you to atone for your perceived sins."

He let his head fall back against the pillows. As much as he would love to live in the delusions that Potter was offering he couldn't imagine that world actually existed.

"Be my friend."

"Excuse me?" he asked, looking over at the other boy.

"Be my friend," Potter said. "Please."

"Why?"

He sighed, "Because..." he trailed off.

"I'm not a broken thing for you to fix."

"No," he agreed easily. "I'm the broken thing."

Draco stared at him, "You make no sense to me."

Potter grinned like he'd complimented him.

"Will it shut you up if I say yes?" he grumbled.

"For now," he replied with a nod.

"Fine."

"Alright," Potter said, sitting back and making himself comfortable in the chair.

"What are you doing?"

He gave him a little grin, "Being a friend. You're stuck with me like glue now."

"That's a boyfriend not a friend, you're confused."

Potter shrugged and said through a yawn, "Boyfriend, then. That title is fine with me."

"What-?" he started.

But Potter leaned over and pressed a kiss to his forehead as though it was the most natural thing in the world and every word that Draco knew evaporated. "Good night, Draco Malfoy. Sleep well."

He was so stunned that he said nothing in reply and by the time he'd gotten his thoughts in any semblance of order Potter was fast asleep; his head resting on his hand as he snored.

Draco shook his head and decided that he would just have to wait until the morning to straighten all of this out.

For now, he decided that it might be alright to spend the next few hours with the tiny, fragile ball of joy unfurling in his chest.

--------------

Day 105: Cuddle | Day 107: Charge

#100 drarry drabbles in 100 days #Day 106 #Eyes #hogwarts eighth year #Dealing with Trauma #cw: ptsd #becoming friends #drarry #drarry drabbles #drarry ficlets #This one got a little bit long-sorry!!

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stagbells · 3 years

Text

Written Work

From: @imsorrythisexists

To: @dooblebugs

Written works under readmore!

In Hallownest, summer brought with it the resurgence of wildlife. Winter typically killed off some of the bugs, and Hornet would hunt down most of the rest. Of course, she was incredibly careful to not over hunt any specific area. Greenpath and the gardens were usually the most abundant with prey, so she tended to stick around there while hunting. She couldn’t always hunt in the greenery though, so she had found herself in the Howling Cliffs.

There wasn’t much prey in the area, but the squits did make rather tasty jerky. Hornet wandered around for a while, jumping from platform to platform. She caught any squit that she saw, and placed it inside of the bag she had brought. After catching half a dozen of them, she decided to head back into town. She wanted to have the jerky ready before dinner, and it was already mid morning. Sly usually took about 5 hours to make and package the jerky, so even if she took her time she should be fine.

While passing the cave that housed the grimm troupe’s lantern, she noticed a flash of blue out of the corner of her eye. Her adrenaline spiked slightly, and she whirled around, keeping a hand on her needle. Her eyes cautiously scanned the surroundings, keeping an eye out for any movement. Out of the corner of her eye she saw that same flash of blue, and she lashed out with her weapon.

“WAIT HORNET-”

Oh fuck-

Hornet turned, and her momentum propelled her into the side of the cliff, barely missing the ant standing right next to where her needle landed. She stood there for a moment, panting as the adrenaline rush started to die down. Once that was gone however, all that remained was irritation. Hornet removed the tip of her needle from where it had pierced the rock, and slowly turned to face Tiso.

Tiso shrank back slightly under the force of her glare, but he shrugged it off and met it with a glare of his own. There was silence for a few moments, before Hornet let out a breath and closed her eyes. She reached a hand up to rub down her face, and Tiso relaxed as well. She reopened her eyes, and they immediately focused on Tiso.

She rolled her eyes, amazed at just how stupid he could be sometimes. “What were you thinking, you idiot?”, she questioned, “You know what happens when you surprise me.” Tiso huffed, crossing his arms.

“Hollow asked me to come find you, they almost have lunch done.” Hornet jolted slightly. It seemed her internal clock had been off, if it was already time for lunch. She had to hurry then if she wanted to get the jerky prepped in time. Brushing past Tiso without a word, she continued to make her way back to Dirtmouth.

‘Wha- Hey! You’re welcome asshole!”, Tiso shouted at her retreating back. Hornet heard him grumble under his breath, and then she heard his footsteps start to follow her. Hollow must have invited him over for dinner again. They do have a habit of adopting strays, she mused.

Tiso had become a common sight in dirtmouth after he had been saved from the mawlek. Even after he had healed, he stuck around. He was annoying as hell, and quite the pest with his antics, but she put up with him for Ghost’s sake. Her sibling deserved to have friends, and despite being a prick, Tiso did genuinely seem to care for the vessel. Besides, it wasn’t like she was going to get attached to him.

------------------------------------------------------------------

Tiso left the pale siblings’ house, throwing a quick goodbye over his shoulder. Lunch had been relatively calm, other than the usual chaos that came with the siblings. It was only the four of them, as Quirrel, Myla, and Cloth had been busy. Hollow had made some kind of soup Tiso couldn’t remember the name of, and as always it had been incredible. He had only had a small bowl though, as he didn’t want them to think that he was actually hungry, even if he was. Either way, he had gone without food longer than a few hours, so he’d be fine.

Tiso had tried to leave right after eating, but Ghost had wanted to spar. He got his ass kicked, but he tried not to let it bruise his pride too much. The squib was a damn good fighter, seeing as how they had managed to beat the Colosseum. Hollow hadn’t joined them, as they wanted to work in their garden. Hornet probably would’ve loved the chance to one up Tiso, but she had left almost immediately, saying that she had to go deal with something.

As Tiso continued towards his camp (not home, never home), he allowed his thoughts to circle back to the Colosseum. He was an idiot for ever thinking that he would be able to complete the challenges. He had only really started to learn how to fight after Spencer- after he left the colony. God I was a fucking moron. His expression twisted into a frown, and he kicked at the rocks under his feet. He was starting to spiral, and he didn’t have any kind of distraction.

Thankfully, he managed to find one almost immediately. Hornet was sitting next to the cliffside that led to the Howling cliffs. It looked like she was messing with some kind of package in her hands. She seemed busy, so it was the perfect time to go bother her. Tiso walked over, a smirk on his face. He deliberately made his footsteps loud, not looking for a repeat of earlier. Hornet glanced up, and her face immediately became irritated. Unfortunately for her, this only made Tiso’s grin widen, even as some of the turbulent emotions from earlier remained.

He sat down about two feet away from her, just out of her immediate reach. Hornet kept her eyes on him, but quickly returned her attention to what she was originally doing. Tiso just kept staring at her, watching as her patience began to thin. She never managed to hold out for long when he did this, and it seemed that this time was no exception. He could see her expression become more and more annoyed, and her hands started to clench around the item in her hands. I wonder how long it’ll take before-

“Would you stop staring at me already!” There it is. Tiso met Hornet’s glare with a smug smirk, and he didn’t bother trying to hide his amusement. “What do you even want, Tiso.”

Tiso neatly sidestepped the question with one of his own, “What’s that?” He nodded to indicate the package in her hands. It looked like something from Sly’s store. The shopkeeper had a habit of stamping his address on all of his items, so people would know where to go if they wanted to buy anything. While Tiso was caught up in examining the package, he almost missed Hornet’s answer.

“It’s jerky,” she answered, sounding slightly hesitant, “do you want some?” Tiso could immediately feel the answer on the tip of his tongue. Jerky was incredible, and he was still starving. He wanted to say yes so, so, badly. But he couldn’t. He didn’t need handouts, he was doing fine on his own. Plus, Hornet didn’t eat enough anyways, so he couldn’t take any food away from her.

“I’m good, princess.” Hornet gave him a look for the nickname, but she let it slide for once. Tiso thought that he saw a brief glimpse of confusion in her eyes, but it was quickly wiped away as she turned back to the jerky. Tiso stared at the sky, trying to hide the want he felt. He could hear the wrapper crinkling and all he wanted to do was retract his previous statement.

Then Hornet tore open the package and oh fuck. Tiso could feel his mouth start to water, and he desperately wanted to be able to taste it. He refused to give in though, he refused to take food away from Hornet. However, his body had other ideas, and his stomach let out a loud growl. Tiso froze completely, and the noise from next to him ceased as well. He kept his gaze glued to the sky, even as he could feel Hornet’s eyes boring holes into the side of his head. He swallowed the saliva that had built up, and his face was burning.

He felt Hornet shift next to him, and he braced for the onslaught of teasing. “Tiso-” He went rigid, and she cut herself off. The formerly comfortable silence had grown tense and awkward, and neither of them would look at the other. Tiso let out a breath, and grabbed his shield, preparing to get the hell out of there.

“Anyways, i’ve gotta go, I usually train right now and I don’t want to skip that-”

“Tiso.” Hornet’s interjection stopped his ramble in its tracks, and he shut up. Tiso decided to take a chance, and he glanced over at Hornet. She was staring right at him, and he could feel the heat returning to his face in full force. He searched her face for any trace of mockery or pity, but all he found was exhaustion and sincerity. Despite the anxiety he felt, he slowly returned to his original position, and turned back to the sky. He was acutely aware of every movement Hornet made, but he still jumped when she tapped his shoulder.

He jerked his head around to face her, and found himself facing a strip of the jerky. His eyes flicked up to meet hers, and he struggled not to blush again when he saw the amusement dancing in her eyes. Hornet shook the jerky slightly, and Tiso glanced between her and the food one last time to double check. Hornet shook it again, more insistently this time, so he reached out and took it from her. He took a bite of it, and nearly melted when he could finally taste it. His eyes closed out of bliss, but they snapped back open when he heard muffled laughter. He shot a glare at Hornet, but for once, there was no heat behind it.

He elbowed her lightly in the side, and she shoved him back with a grin. The atmosphere around them lightened, and they started a quiet conversation. For a while, it was peaceful, and they happily shared the rest of the jerky. And then Hornet insulted Tiso, so he insulted her back. Hornet then tackled him.

#hollow knight #stagbells #summer stagbells 2021 #hornet #tiso #written work

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saveourskinship · 3 years

Text

What Happens When I’m Asked To Write A Tomione Seven Gins Deep

This is dedicated to @highgaarden for issuing me a challenge to complete a Tomione/Hogwarts Professors/HEA while intoxicated. It is also dedicated to @akorah for putting up with both of us. (Minimal edits have been applied for grammar mostly.)

Warning: Below lies crackfic insanity and more ineptitude than I generally aspire to emulate.

“Professor Granger.”

He said it brusquely as if propriety were the only thing keeping it afloat in the sea of students between them.

But that was Tom’s way.

No, Professor Riddle’s.

“Professor Mystery. Professor Enigma. Pro-hic-fessor goddamn fucking Crux-Whore.”

“Girl, you wasted,” McGonagall slurred, brandishing more wine as Hermione swung from the portrait of Headmaster Snape, blowing raspberries at him.

“It’s always like this,” Hermione pouted.

“It be like that,” McGonagall corrected. “Psssh, Granger, get with the times.”

“The times? The times? It always is times Minnie-ervy-erva!” Hermione yelled, sounding angry but really it was just righteous. Righteousness always sounded angry because it was so often spoken through a bullhorn.

“Grangerrrr-bo-beaver-fo-fever-wo-weaver,” McGonagall said seriously.

Hermione stilled, “You sound serious,” she told her mentor.

“I am always serious,” McGonagall replied with a very serious tongue-waggle. “But right now I seriously suggest you visit Professor Conundrum and give him what for.”

“What for?” Hermione asked, confused. “What for?”

Clarifyingly this time.

“You need to ask him what his tone means and what it’s for,” McGonagall nodded, sincerity bleeding out of her eyes. Which was vaguely alarming, but rather normal since the war a hundred bajillion years ago.

McGonagall and Hermione stormed to Professor Dilemma’s private quarters.

They hopped off their rainclouds and banged on the door.

“Thomasthomasthomasthomasthomasthomas,” Hermione shouted. Which, incidentally is much closer to indignation than righteousness if one had to categorise it.

“It’s just Tom, actually,” a weary voice sighed behind them.

“No, it’s not,” McGonagall scoffed.

“Um, no, it is,” Tom Riddle, fit as a fiddle, bashfully admitted. If he could be bashful. (’Every bashful person is LYING, just be shy or not, geez...’ thought Hermione.)

“No one is just called Tom,” McGonagall insisted, fingers itching with fanciful insistingness.

Hermione pointed a rancorous and accusatory finger at him. She dressed it like Ace Attorney for the occasion and it’s little suit looked rather lovely in the dungeon light.

“You! Professor Quandary!” she pontificated (let’s not get into what THAT was close to. It’s really, really not worth it).

“Quirrell?” McGonagall queried.

“Not quite,” Hermione sniffed. “A long time ago.”

“Oh, times have changed,” Minerva bobbled. Hermione goggled at her with all the shock of someone who had been chastised for something similarly time-based not too long ago. I.e. A lot.

“Jesus Christ,” Plain Old Tom pleaded to the heavens.

“He won’t help you,” Hermione pouted, “I’ve tried. Told me he’s more into the ‘grand scheme of things’ rather than some ‘silly little witch’s problems’.”

“I think we’d get on,” Tom shrugged.

“What for, Tom!” McGonagall shrieked, limbs akimbo before coming together in a Wonder Woman pose.

Hermione copied her, naturally.

“If that even is his name,” Minerva edged out the side of her mouth.

“I highly doubt it,” Hermione replied, sensibly.

“Look, before you ask, I can answer. So will you let me?” So-Called-Tom raised placating hands at them.

“Fucking Riddles, always knowing the answers and posing questions anyway,” Hermione grumbled with rising arousal.

“I’ll let you for a club sandwich and a pint of strawberry bourbon,” McGonagall bargained. Rather reasonably, Hermione believed with an impressed nod of her head.

“But...” Tom floundered. “Gamp’s Laws!”

“So?” Minerva sassed her head and raised her hands in a ‘Who’s your momma’ kind of way.

Tom sighed again and summoned the requested items.

“Score!” McGongall fist-pumped and wandered away.

“Thank God,” Tom exhaled. He turned to address her, “Hermione.”

It was said with caramel.

Wait, no, with sweetness.

Hermione blinked and shook her drunken head.

“Why were you mean to me?” she stuck her lip out. Then bit it as she thought maybe she looked a bit like a puckering mongoose in the first instance.

“It’s the first of the month.”

Tom took her shoulders in his hands which were slight and droopy with overwork.

“Which means,” he continued with the stretch of infinity pulled like gum between teeth and a finger. Or perhaps something more romantic. “That you will get off your gourd with McGonagall and I have to stake out her office to make sure you get back to your room safely. And hopefully not stumble into Myrtle’s bathroom to try her next batch of toilet wine like last time.”

“Oh,” Hermione contemplated him like a 3-Michelin star prize dish. “How come we didn’t see you then!”

“I mentioned you are off your gourd right?” he reminded her. “Why do you think I was right behind you?”

“Oh yeah... Is this interest?” Hermione pointed between them.

“I suppose... No. Yes. Yes, it is.” Tom stated.

“Good, invite me in then. Let’s sleep together,” Hermione wafted him away to open the door.

Unlike malleable and friendly smoke though, he stayed. The bastard.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said.

“Probably not,” Hermione retorted, “But you shouldn’t go trying new things this far into your many lives. It’s bad for your back.”

“What?” he flexed in a perplexed fashion.

“For!” Hermione cheered with a clap of her hands. “Come on, then. We’ll make it a competition. I bet I can sleep so much better than you-u-u,” she ended it on a yawn to prove her point.

Tom looked at her like a puppy looks at a tennis ball in the hand of its best friend. “Oh, Hermione. Okay, sure. I’ll take that bet.”

And he opened the door.

#tomione #tom x hermione #crackfic #ficlet #author went on to have two more gins #author woke up not dead #twas a miracle

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lightrises · 3 years

Text

"Only in allowing her to pass..." — Hornet, The Radiance, and the means by which Hallownest turned its victims against each other

A quick note: I read Hollow Knight as an anti-colonialist text. As such I'll be touching on topics related to colonialism as it's depicted in the world of the game, and said analysis will reflect both a sympathetic take on The Radiance and a critique of The Pale King that won't pull its punches. If this sounds up your alley, hello and thank you for the read! Let us be sad about these bugs together.

———

So!! A while back I realized something about pre-canon that felt rather... "curious" is one way to put it, I think. To wit: for all the effort and scheming and determination The Pale King poured into trying to get rid of The Radiance, neither of his plans involved directly killing her.

Was that his long game? Well, sure, that seems clear enough. His tack changed from luring the moths away from their god and creator to a more literal form of incarceration once the infection became a factor, but at its core the end goal never really changed—The Pale King very sincerely wished to destroy Radiance via obsolescence. The Seer lends us foreshadowing to confirm as much:

[Image descriptions: Two screenshots from Hollow Knight, showing the Seer and Ghost in the Seer's alcove at the Resting Grounds. Across both screenshots, the Seer tells Ghost the following: "None of us can live forever, and so we ask those who survive to remember us. Hold something in your mind and it lives on with you, but forget it and you seal it away forever. That is the only death that matters." End description.]

(Which, by the way and given the context, talk about an extremely unsubtle allusion to cultural genocide huh!!! Whew.)

In any case, we're left with a whole bunch of machinations which build up to... well, two very roundabout attempts at committing deicide. That's kind of weird, all things considered! Why not just do the deed in one fell swoop and get it over with?

This could be for any number of reasons. Maybe the king was devoid of the means to instantly kill another higher being. Maybe his personal sense of scruples stopped him short of signing off on MURDER murder (although, y'know, the aforementioned genocide + eternal imprisonment = still cool and copasectic apparently!). Maybe the long drawn-out cruelty was the point. Maybe the idea of playing fuckign 4D chess with the circumstances was too delicious for him to pass up—that man did love to tinker and stick his claws where they sure as hell didn't belong—or maybe it was a little bit of All The Things. Who knows!!

But interrogating The Pale King's methodology on this count isn't what I'm here for, at least not really. The main reason I raise this question at all is that in her own way, Hornet did too.

"I'd urge you to take that harder path... "

See, going by The Pale King's actions and what The White Lady explicitly says, they both foresaw two outcomes wrt the infection: it can be allowed to spread, or it can be contained. At Teacher's Archives, Quirrel acknowledges the fact that Ghost is expected to do... something about this, but he doesn't elaborate on what HE thinks that's supposed to be apart from the obvious "Gotta bust into Black Egg Temple first". Hornet is the one person who presents to us—to Ghost—what's framed as a third option: confront and destroy the infection at its source.

And she doesn't bring it up like it's just another tactic for Ghost to consider, prim and indifferent to what they would do. She nudges them towards it, actively, up to the point where she throws herself into the fray against Hollow at a juncture that's uniquely dangerous to her and her alone just to make that option feasible.

Even when she's couching it in disclaimers that this is still Ghost's decision to make (and let's be fair, she's extremely not wrong about that lol), no one can pretend Hornet is unbiased. It's obvious in that buttoned-down Hornet kind of way that she is way the hell done with the increasingly tenuous stalemate that's kept Hallownest's desiccated corpse from collapsing in on itself. Personally it's hard for me not to read some Toriel Undertale-esque "My father was too entrenched in his own foolishness to pursue any course of action that would have DEFINITIVELY ended this" shade into her stance here, regardless of whether that's strictly true in canon.

And that bit—Hornet's hopes for an end to Hallownest's stasis, moreover her grim calculation of what needs to be done to get there—that's the bit I find super interesting but likewise tragic and depressing as shit, on multiple levels. In no small part because a) canon itself gestures towards Hornet feeling conflicted about the very plan she's pushing, and moreover b) she has at least two (2) damn good reasons to feel that way.

So, what do I mean by that? Let's look here first:

[Image description: A screenshot from Hollow Knight, of Hornet and Ghost inside the Temple of the Black Egg, standing in front of the unsealed egg itself. Hornet has been struck by the Dream Nail and her dialogue is displayed as follows: "... Could it achieve that impossible thing? Should it?" End description.]

As the curtain is about to drop on things one way or another, Hornet thinks,

... Could it achieve that impossible thing? Should it?

Now, looking at that last bit it's easy to go "Oh no, Hornet's worried that Ghost won't survive killing The Radiance!" And I do think that's part of it: Hornet is, categorically, not her father. By endgame it's clear she's not content to view her Void-borne siblings as tools to be used then disposed of. She's also well aware that as a healthy autonomous Vessel amongst the countless dead, Ghost is the only person left alive who has a fighting chance against The Radiance. Knowing someone is the only qualified candidate for the job doesn't make encouraging them to embrace a probable death sentence any less of a bitter pill to swallow, though. And odds are on that this sentiment extends to Hollow too, who IS going to die no matter what happens here. To put it bluntly, it's more than reasonable to conclude that Hornet hates the absolute fuck out of this.

But I don't think that's all there is to it either. Remember what I said earlier about The Pale King's bids for genocide? Well, it's not like the man deigned to limit his efforts to just the moth tribe.

"We do not choose our mothers... "

On top of everything else—an infected Hallownest being all she's ever known, the fact that she only exists because of the infection, the list goes on—Hornet has spent her life wedged into a position that's been uncomfortable and terminally unglamorous at best: she is both a daughter of her father's kingdom and of Deepnest.

Deepnest, which like the moths and many others was here long before the wyrm and his lady wife swanned onto the scene and the God Become Bug laid claim to everything the Light touched plus a considerable amount of change. THAT Deepnest, which has fought claw and thread to retain its sovereignty against same-said settler king, and for which Herrah not only surrendered her life but also agreed to bed her worst enemy, all in hopes of securing a viable future for her people (put a pin in that last part by the way, I'll come back to it soon).

Two Worlds, One Family (Ft. An Indigenous Woman Trying Her Damndest To Work With What She's Got Versus An Imperialist Who Only Signed Up For This Because He Needed The Political Favor THAT Badly, So It's The Height Of Dysfunctional Actually). Fun times!!!!

The baggage this entails for Hornet is gnarly enough without implications made by The White Lady and the pre-canon timeline of events and even Team Cherry's dev notes that the king may well have looked at baby Hornet, gone "YOINK", then ensured she spent the lion's share of her childhood reared within the pearly auspices of his Pale Court*. That would be rather advantageous for Him Specifically after all, the potential to mold a born foe into a future ally and even have her trained in combat under the same tutelage as her doomed sibling. And far be it from him to stop a grown Hornet—his own flesh and blood too!—from making Deepnest her forever home if she so pleased. He totally wouldn't be reneging on his "fair bargain made" by doing this one simple thing until Hornet came of age, not t e c h nic c a l l y.

If that is indeed the case, there's a non-zero chance Hornet's formative years were a hot mess of cultural alienation and being a good deal more privy than most to just how much of a bastard her father could be. There's an equally non-zero chance that at some point she stood or sat within earshot as The Pale King finally, finally dropped all pretense and euphemism to name the Light for precisely what (for who) it was.

See, in conjunction with the question that started this whole dang train of thought I've been asking this one too: Does Hornet know? When she speaks of confronting "the heart of [the] infection" does she know she's talking about not just a literal person but someone very specific? The Radiance, who god though she may be shares skin in the game alongside Hornet as a native woman screwed over by the same settler king, likewise deprived of her kin and saddled with a life gone horrendously pear-shaped?

I'll assume for the sake of exploring the possibility and because I think it's a likely one anyway that yes, Hornet does know. She knows, and despite everything can't help empathizing. She might even look at Radiance and see bits and pieces both reflected and slightly inversed in her own mother: Radiance was forced to the sidelines while her people—her children, the brood she was meant to lead and care for—died out under The Pale King's rule, and it's no stretch to assume she's at least as upset about that as she has been about everything else; Herrah too took drastic measures for her people's sake, trying to head off annihilation by relegating herself to the sidelines in an act that was as much calculated risk as an attempt to find wiggle room and leverage in the face of a nasty proposition.

A calculated risk that, if things continue as they are, might well amount to nothing as the rest of Deepnest gets eaten alive by the infection. It survived The Pale King's advances for so so long, only to fall here. Herrah's sacrifice would be for naught; the other tribes—themselves the king's victims—would keep succumbing to the infection too.

And this is where things fall apart.

"... or the circumstance into which we are born."

Let's be clear: I think Hornet is wise enough to know what's what here, that all the carnage and suffering falls on her father's head for starting this slow-motion trainwreck in the first place. Hallownest wasn't always Hallownest. This domain was Radiance's home first, along with many others. It was the worm-turned-king who rolled up on the scene unsolicited and decided this was a ""'problem""" that had to be """solved""".

But the fact of the matter is that he's gone and The Radiance is here, raging, seemingly inconsolable. Above and beyond being Deepnest's rightful heir, Hornet isn't in a position to countenance more splash damage even if the grief and fury fueling it makes perfect sense. She can understand without ever bringing herself to love Radiance, and she can bend her knee to practicality even if she hates the everloving shit out of it because the fact that it "has" to end this way isn't fair.

This lends itself to one last awful conclusion: that Hornet has probably considered and (rightly or wrongly) discarded the possibility that Radiance can be saved, at least not without dragging more collateral along for the ride. If even her mother and every other enemy to the king seemed to dismiss talking Radiance down as an option way back when... well. Why should Hornet hope for any better after things have escalated so far?

Again, it's practical. A practical net good is what Hornet strives for. And again, it fucking sucks.

For extra tragedy points, this makes Hornet's extended crypticness around Ghost followed by her last minute casting about for a reason to tell them "Wait, don't; not just yet" that she never voices even more of a gut punch. She can't bring herself to burden Ghost with the context that haunts her so, least of all when it might weaken their resolve to go through with what (she thinks) needs doing.

It's the "same song, different verse" which led to the mantis tribe and Deepnest being pitted against each other: Hallownest rigged the game so that two women who could have been powerful allies—who have a mutual vested interest in driving out settler rule—wound up poised as enemies instead. And how awful is that? The king for all his being extremely fucking dead still gets the last laugh, because outside of a miracle the game never manifests Hornet can salvage what her mother started and look forward to a future where Deepnest pulls itself back from the brink if and only if The Radiance dies.

Resolution comes at the price of a completed genocide. Add two more dead siblings to the unconscionable pile thereof, while we're at it. That's what it boils down to whether or not Hornet can bear to articulate it as such, and there's no grace or even a properly bittersweet ending to wring from this clusterfuck. And that is rough.

———

* This has been better explained elsewhere, but a quick rundown: The White Lady tells Ghost that Hornet and Herrah "were permitted little time together." On its surface this can be taken to mean that Hornet was still very young when Herrah was shipped off to Eternal Dreamland—except this doesn't jive with the fact that we meet Hornet as an adult. If the stasis kicked in once the Dreamers went to their rest, which in turn halted the aging process for every living bug in Hallownest, AND before all this Hornet experienced little by the way of quality time with her birth mother... I think you can see where I'm going with this.

To top it off we've got Team Cherry weighing in ominously from their dev notes on Herrah: "As part of the agreement for her alliance and her role as a dreamer, King gave her a child (Hornet). Was she allowed to keep this child or was she taken away?" This isn't confirmation by itself of course, but given additional canon details (see above): Can I get a "yikes" in the chat fellas.

#hollow knight #hornet (hollow knight)#hornet hollow knight #hk hornet #the radiance #hk radiance #herrah #hk herrah #hollow knight meta #sup folks it's been a minute since i dropped a whole dang essay but Here We Go!!!!!!

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writesowhatnext · 4 years

Text

and I’ve been thinking about it lately // george weasley

Summary: friends // it was easy to be friends with george weasley

Request: nee

A/N: once again!!! I used Y/L/N which is last name :) this is part 2 of the fic I just posted!!!! obviously?? anyways I loved this

Reader: female, Slytherin

Warnings: swearing

enemies // friends // lovers // epilogue

“Looks like we’re partners,” George said, sliding into the seat next to yours and grinning. He felt a little nervous given your turbulent history, but it seemed that you were about to surprise him, as you always managed to.

“Just my luck,” you retorted, your voice lacking its usual amount of bite despite your scowl.

He smirked at your tone, surprised at much he enjoyed your new-found acquaintanceship.

“Can’t believe you got paired up with that loser, Weasley,” Malfoy said to you from behind, leaning over his desk so his annoyingly pompous voice carried. “Which one are you again?”

Before George could open his mouth and put the little git in his place, he was beaten to the punch.

“And why are you talking to me, Malfoy?” you said slowly, not even looking at him as you opened your textbook. You smiled slightly at his angry muttering and the scrape of his chair on the floor.

When you looked at George, only to see him making smug faces at Malfoy before turning to you and smirking, you rolled your eyes, still finding his ability to rile your feathers disturbingly uncanny.

“You can do the uses-“

“Why?” he said loudly, returning your scowl as you glared at him.

“Because I told you to.”

“And so, what? I should just do it?”

“Yes.”

“Well, in that case, your highness.”

You shot him a dark look and he opened his mouth to continue your bickering when a dark figure loomed behind you.

“Mr Weasley, Ms Y/L/N.” Snape’s voice cut through the silence of the room. “Do you find squabbling like children in my class to be a good use of your time?”

Following Snape’s little scolding, you tried desperately to avoid his wrath for the rest of the lesson. This was a goal that proved harder than initially anticipated given the nature of the boy sitting next to you. Halfway through the lesson, you found yourself biting your nails, trying to figure out the purpose of adding Eye of Newt when George caught your eye. He winked and you glowered in return, but he could see the upward curve of your lips and considered himself once again pleasantly surprised.

He could barely contain his laughter, though, when around ten minutes later you stuck your tongue out at him when you caught him looking around the room for a distraction. It was strange, you though, to be so light-hearted with him; not bad though, not at all.

He snickered until he felt Snape’s eyes on him and immediately ducked his head, not eager to receive another detention after the last Thursday night he spent polishing trophies. The idea of George getting in trouble made you smirk, though, and you looked over to tease him only to see Snape’s sour expression.

Your eyes widened as you quickly looked down again and pursed your lips tightly. You both watched him walk in front of your desk slowly, gliding past you, the weight of his gaze heavy on your shoulders. George snorted and you kicked him under the table, finding it almost impossible to contain your own laughter with Snape watching you so closely.

The man himself, like a dark shadow, loomed over your bench and reluctantly, you both looked up. Snape’s eyes flickered from yours to George’s slowly, suspiciously. As you both waited silently for the inevitable punishment, you couldn’t help your amusement brewing and you cursed George and his stupidity for always somehow making you laugh.

��Class…” Snape drawled, his dark gaze never leaving your faces. “Dismissed.”

You concealed your laughter until you got outside the room where you immediately burst into giggles. You shoved George lamely with your hand, shaking your head.

“You are the worst!” you insisted, huffing as he grinned. You scoffed, biting your lip.

Both you and George stared at each other for a moment, your combined breathing the only sound in the hallway as your laughter died down. The air turned thick rather quickly and wading through the awkward silence, you remembered that you really ought to get to your next class. You made to leave, not wanting to extend the odd tension for any longer when George stopped you, his hand on your arm. You stiffened under his touch and he lifted his palm quicker than you’d thought possible. Your insides churned.

“Defence Against the Dark Arts, right?” he said, his eyebrows raised, an oddly guarded look in his eye.

You narrowed your eyes suspiciously.

“…Yes.”

“Oh, brilliant,” he said, throwing his arm over your shoulder and ushering you in the right direction. “We can walk there together.”

You grunted and pushed him off indelicately, shooting him a deadpan look when he grinned. You urged yourself to be normal - whatever that was.

“Joyous,” you said so dryly he barked a loud laugh, a laugh that made you forget how weird you’d felt only minutes before. You were glad to return to more familiar territory.

“Don’t pretend you don’t like me,” he said glibly, hoping that you couldn’t tell how unsure he was about the idea. Why did he even care if you liked him? He barely even liked you a week ago. You rolled your eyes again and he swallowed against the tightness of his throat.

“I assure you, there’s no pretence involved whatsoever.”

Either he didn’t have a witty response or just chose to ignore you, but he only hummed as you both wandered to the third floor.

Professor Lupin, you discovered quickly, was thankfully nothing like Professors Quirrell or Lockhart; that was in the sense that he actually seemed somewhat competent at his job. You were quite enjoying the lesson until he introduced the boggart, something that you definitely did not want to face, especially not in a room full of people that you didn’t know, didn’t like and George, who you were unsure about where he sat in that particular Venn diagram. With a poorly concealed rush, you joined the back of the queue that curled around the room as Fred and George, ever the showmen joined the front.

You expected George’s worst fear to be something stupid; something like clowns or people not laughing at his dumb jokes. What you did not expect was to see the boggart turn into George himself; how you could tell the difference between him and Fred was not something you dared to question. The boggart was holding a white rose and stood there in a suit, the type you’d never believe that George would ever wear, and as he faced it, he gulped. You frowned, something about the whole thing piquing your interest. Maybe George Weasley wasn’t everything you thought he was.

“Riddikulus!” he shouted, watching with wide eyes as the boggart’s white rose crumbled into dozens of pieces, each hitting the ground with a sharp thud. Its face morphed into Filch’s and suddenly the whole classroom was alive with laughter at the sight of Filch attempting to find footing on a floor of marbles. Finding you across the class, pleased to see a faint smirk on your lips, George winked. You scoffed, shaking your head. Maybe George Weasley was exactly what you thought he was.

“Pretty impressive, eh?” he said cockily as he walked over. The rest of the class shrieked in laughter as another fear turned into something hilarious, but you weren’t paying attention.

“You’re an imbecile.”

“Oh, is that right?”

“Most definitely.”

“I dare you to do something better,” he said, his competitive streak showing. He watched, though, with intrigue, as your face turned pale and your expression uncomfortable.

“I don’t have to prove anything to you,” you snapped, perhaps too harshly. He glowered, dozens of cruel retorts collecting on his tongue before he stopped, noticing the way your fingers pulled nervously at your sleeve and your eyes darted around the room.

For the first time since knowing you, George realised that you were actually scared of something and despite how much he loved to irritate you, your fearful expression didn’t sit well with him at all.

“Did you hear that Neville turned his into Snape wearing his grandma’s clothes?” he said, his stare far too obvious for his tone to be so casual. He tried, though, and you almost appreciated his attempt to be subtle as he avoided mentioning your conversational hand grenade. He watched confusion, and then recognition, flash over your features.

“I can’t believe Longbottom’s boggart was Snape,” you scoffed, crossing your arms tightly. George frowned, opening his mouth to defend him. Whilst he and Neville weren’t the best of friends, George wasn’t a fan of people teasing him, especially Slytherins. From all he knew about you, he could only expect mockery to tumble lazily from your lips.

“Neville’s-“

“How psychotic do you have to be for a kid to fear you like that?”

George’s mouth dried up a little and for the first time in a long time, he was rendered speechless. His eyes trailed over your scowling face.

“I’ll say,” he said softly, watching you closely to gauge your reaction. “I figured you’d like Snape; being a Slytherin and all.”

You made a face. “He’s a bully. Fantastic wizard, mind, but an awful person.”

George mused on your words for a moment. He didn’t really know what to say, but he was saved by the point of Fred’s wand and the sight of a younger, screaming Ron Weasley legging it away from a gigantic spider. You exhaled out of your nose as Fred came over, clapping his brother on the shoulder.

“That was brilliant, mate,” George said to his brother, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

“What did you think Y/N?” Fred asked, flicking his hair over his shoulder. “Am I a comedic genius or what?”

“I think I’ll have to go with ‘or what’ on that one,” you hummed, smiling at their stupidly dramatic reactions.

Much to your surprise, it wasn’t just the twins that you’d come to tolerate. As you walked over to the Gryffindor table, your fingers drumming against your leg, you thought about how, against all odds, you’d developed a very unexpected friendship with Hermione Granger. Hours of polite co-existing at the library managed to do that to a person.

“Oi, Granger,” you said, stopping behind Ron, ignoring the way his face soured when he saw you. “Do you have that book I leant you on muggle war history?”

“Oh,” she exclaimed, throwing her hand to her chest before she rifled through her bag and handed over a thick hardback. “Yes, here, thank you.”

You nodded at her before turning to walk away, catching Harry’s eye in the process. You circled back, an amused smirk working its way onto your lips.

“Saw you flying that hippogriff earlier, Potter. Must say, I’m quite impressed. Especially after what it did to Malfoy’s arm.”

“Uh,” he said, not quite sure where to look. “Thanks, Y/N.”

“Ooh,” George said, sitting down next to Harry as Fred sat opposite him.

“Has someone got a crush?” Fred asked, goading you with his teasing tone.

“Someone’s about to get crushed,” you replied happily, your overly cheerful voice sending the twins into hysterics.

You pursed your lips, but the amused smile on your face didn’t escape Hermione’s keen eye.

“Excited for quidditch tomorrow then, Y/N?” George said with a cocky grin. “We’re gonna absolutely decimate the Hufflepuffs.”

“Like that’s hard,” Fred added, nodding his head.

“As much as I would love to see you two do absolutely nothing for a few hours,” you smirked as their expressions wilted. “I have no interest in torturing myself watching a game I can’t play.”

“Why can’t you play?” Harry asked, a confused frown knitting his brows together.

“Flint banned me for three matches; says it’ll ‘help remind me where my loyalties should lie’. Smug bastard.”

You rolled your eyes, remembering the dumb look on his face and the haughtiness of his tone.

“What? He’s not letting you play because of that enchanted bludger last year? But you were only helping Harry!” Hermione said, her voice indignant.

“I think that’s the issue, Hermione,” Harry said almost guiltily.

“Well, that’s hardly fair, is it?” Ron said, the words tumbling from his mouth before he could stop them. He winced as he prepared himself for your reaction, quite surprised really when you only shrugged and kissed your teeth.

“Not to worry, he’ll put me back in after the Ravenclaw match,” you insisted, the clock on the wall catching your eye. “I’m irreplaceable.”

You winked at Ron as you walked backwards, finding it best not to be late for Snape’s study session given your recent antics with George. Your laughter followed you out the hall as you left Ron blushing bright pink in your wake.

There was a large possibility that you might have lied. Or perhaps you just hadn’t made up your mind yet. It really didn’t matter though because Potter sure was lucky that you’d dragged yourself to see the match in the end. You obviously hadn’t anticipated him falling so hard so fast, but given that you’d been lurking by the players’ entrance to the pitch to get the best view of the game, you were by far the first to reach him when he hit the ground with a resounding thud.

You perched on the bed opposite him, sitting on the railing and hoping that Madam Pomfrey was too occupied with the injured Hufflepuffs to scold you.

“He looks a bit peaky,” Ron said, leaning over Harry who, admittedly, did look rather pale. “Doesn’t he?”

You cursed yourself for being so worried about Harry Potter, of all people, but despite your best intentions, you had a soft spot for the kid and you reasoned that anybody falling out of the sky would’ve earnt exactly the same response.

“Peaky?” George scoffed, looking at his little brother.

“I’d expect,” Fred snorted.

“He fell over a hundred feet.”

“Yeah, Ron. Let’s walk you off the Astronomy Tower.”

“See what you look like.”

You rolled your eyes. They really were idiots.

“Probably a darn sight better than he usually does,” Harry said, his voice croaky. You snorted, leaning forward to get a better look at Hogwarts’ resident skydiver. George glanced at you, grinning at the noise you’d made as he moved to sit by Harry.

“You gave us a right good scare there, mate,” he said, shaking his head. Despite your oath to never do so, you had to agree with him. Harry’s eyes flicked from George to the twigs that were left of his broomstick nestled in Ron’s arms, and then finally to you.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, frowning.

You chuckled as you stood up and made towards the bed, walking past Longbottom, who edged away away from you nervously.

“Just checking you’re still alive, Potter,” you said lazily, catching George’s eye as you turned to leave.

“She helped bring you in,” he said, looking at you for a moment before bringing his attention back to Harry.

“Seems like she’s your guardian angel on that quidditch pitch,” Fred joked, his laughter echoing down the corridor as you took a leisurely stroll back to the dungeon.

You didn’t see Fred or George for a while after that which was worrying, to say the least; if not only because that meant that they were planning something. You managed to muster a smile for Harry in the hallway one time, figuring he needed it with all the rumours going around about Sirius Black being his godfather. It probably came out like more of a grimace, you mused.

It felt normal, though, to return to your life before your truce with George Weasley; back to your normal friends and normal problems that didn’t involve teenagers falling from the sky. Disappointingly, with your friends busy revising for the upcoming Transfiguration test, a test you knew that you’d ace, you almost convinced yourself to ditch Hogsmeade for the day. However, something about the fresh snow on the ground or the idea of Christmas just around the corner swayed you and you found yourself huddled in your coat, rushing through the halls of Hogwarts.

The last people you expected (or wanted) to see were Fred and George, walking through the quad with matching woolly hats and coats. You debated it for a moment. You could just ignore them, but no doubt they’d notice you shadowing them at some point. And you were friends now, right?

The thought struck you with less distaste than you imagined it would and it seemed, at that point, that your mind was made up.

“Aren’t you two supposed to be at Hogsmeade?” you shouted, quirking an eyebrow at them as they turned around, waiting for you to catch up.

“Couldn’t we ask you the same thing?” George said, grinning cheekily.

“I was just leaving, actually.”

“Oh, splendid,” Fred said, his tone mocking. “We absolutely have to go together, then.”

“If we must,” you said, the perfect picture of resignation.

“You know you love us, Y/N,” George said, elbowing you in the ribs.

“I’ll pretend that’s true for your own sake.”

“You see that, George?” Fred asked, pointing at his brother as you walked between them. “And they say Slytherin’s aren’t kind.”

You couldn’t help the smile that lifted your cheeks.

It was unfortunate, really, because you couldn’t shake that smile for the rest of the day. Against your better judgement, you joined the twins in the Three Broomsticks, laughing and joking over pints of butterbeer. If anybody asked, the whole experience was deplorable, but in reality, you were actually enjoying yourself. So much so that you didn’t even notice the stares you were getting from across the pub.

“Can you believe that?” Seamus asked, jerking a thumb at you. “Did you ever think the bloody Weasley twins would be friends with a Slytherin?”

Dean shook his head, snickering into his glass. “No chance, mate.”

harry potter tag list:

@creator-appreciator

@decadentwastelandtrash

@loveisblindness

@xinyourdreamsx

@brainlesspasta

@hariosborn

@staringmoony

@rexorangecouny

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@obsessedwithrandomthings

@dreamer821

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@in-slytherin-we-trust

@haphazardhufflepuff

@princesof-theuniverse

@whovianayesha

@ickle-ronniekins

@harrysweasleys

@theweirdsideofstuff

@igotmindcontrol

@fandomscombine

@mytreec

@tallyovie

@strawberriesonsummer

@parkeroffline

#george weasley #george weasley imagine #george weasley x reader #harry potter #Harry Potter imagine #writing #imagine

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sk1fanfiction · 3 years

Note

Hello! I saw that you reblogged the "I wish you would write a fic where..." post, and I have two ideas for the Running From My Destiny verse that might make neat scenes. The first I can't really make a summary for since it's such a general idea, but I'd really like to see a Quirrellmort POV. For the second one:

Malfada Prewett meets the Weasleys. This... does not go as well as her parents thought it would, even if they didn't have particularly high hopes.

Malfada absolutely does not get along with her cousins; she loves them anyways, though.

I hope the prompt(s) is(are?) fun! It's cool that you're doing this; it seems like it'd be an interesting experience. Have a nice night! :)

Thanks so much for the prompts! They were both very cool ideas! Hope you have a nice morning/afternoon/night as well!

ᑫᑌIᖇᖇEᒪᒪᗰOᖇT/TᑌᖇᑎIᑎG TO ᗩᔕᕼEᔕ

(spark)

Quirinus Quirrell surveyed his classroom, then glanced down at his attendance sheet, running a shaking finger down his list of names.

“P-Parkinson, P-Pansy?”

“Here, Professor.”

“P-Patil, P-P-Parvati?”

He’d always been ashamed of his stutter. There wasn’t a time he remembered not feeling afraid of his own voice. He expected peers, now students, to laugh at him and make him feel smaller and smaller, until he was annhilated.

“Here, sir.”

He pushed his reading glasses up his nose and focused on the next name.

His heartbeat stuttered in his ears. Something seemed to click. To focus. And when he spoke, his voice was as composed and steady as he’d always dreamed.

“Potter, Harry.”

“Present, sir.”

He could not help but look up at the speaker. But it wasn’t as if he was one looking. Rather, someone or something else had nudged their way to the front of his brain, gazing at the small first-year in the second row, scrawny, bespectacled and overall unremarkable, except for the round-rimmed glasses and bright green eyes that seemed to stir some distant memory, as if he had seen them both on another person.

Dead. And yet he felt more alive than ever.

He shuddered, and moved on, taking note of the remaining few Gryffindor and Slytherin students.

(ember)

It had been mere days since Quirinus had returned to the school; mere weeks since Voldemort’s disembodied spirit promised him everything he’d ever dreamed of.

No longer would he be the bullied, cowed Professor of Muggle Studies.

No longer would he be an afterthought.

There is no good and evil, only power, he reminded himself. Whether he vanquished Voldemort or brought him back to life, he would be great. And that was all that mattered.

And so, he had found himself standing in front of the Mirror of Erised, performing spells that he did not understand (but the other, strange new part of him did) and renewing the runes drawn around an ancient bloodstain.

But now, he was sitting in his office. And that green-eyed, unremarkable boy was sitting across from him (though the part of him that was Voldemort whispered, Quirinus, he is the one).

“Do you think I should be worried at all about the shadows?"

Harry Potter’s voice seemed to be coming through several miles of water. For his part, Quirinus felt frozen, and yet, more clever and powerful and strong than he ever had. His limbs had new life, every square centimetre of his being thrummed with magic, and he felt a strange, vast understanding of everything around him; even the boy’s mind.

"You were right to come to me, Harry Potter.” And there came the new, clear voice again, but it faded quickly. “If you are at all interested in learning to... control... to develop... your power, I may just be able to point you in the right d-d-direction."

(flame)

Halfway through the Quidditch match, something strange had come over Quirinus. That same terrible focus and perhaps not-so-mysterious power.

And every nerve in his body sang with the same fierce joy: Kill him, kill him, kill him! They’ll never trace it to you! Dumbledore is not here to see! KILL HIM!

Quirinus had not taken even a single year of Ancient Runes while he was at Hogwarts, and his affinity for the Dark Arts had always been weak. But now, he sat quite calmly in the professors’ box, muttering an Ogham chant and tainting the air with foul magic.

He saw what the others could not; Harry Potter was being consumed by his own shadows. The boy reached for his broom, hanging on with the last of his material form. His eyes were glassy and empty, and everything in Quirinus sung with the triumphant knowledge that his strange enemy was close to death. The Reaper was coming.

The two Weasley boys circled around him, trying to save him (foolish children, none can save him from Lord Death himself!).

It was the girl that snapped him out of his focus; she threw herself into the box like a wildcat let loose and despite the protests of the professors around him.

But it mattered not. Her precious brother was fast losing his grip, and soon the great Boy-Who-Lived would be nothing but a stain on the grass below; a tragic accident—

“INCENDIO!I”

The box crackled with flame, and the thing inside Quirinus howled in anger; yes, she should not know that, but fire would save the boy, sap the shadows.

Even as Snape shouted at her, it was her victory, not his, because Harry Potter had pulled himself back on the broom to safety.

How hard is it to kill an eleven-year-old child already cursed by a parasitic monster? You are just as much of a failure as they say you are!

And yet, thought Quirinus, he did not know if it was the thing, or himself howling in fury at his inability to kill the boy.

(ashes)

He did not like her. He did not like either of the Potter children at all.

Perhaps he liked Harry Potter sometimes, when he delved into his mind and forced the Obscurus to manifest, savoured his terror and the fear-filled memories of his Muggle relatives. When he entertained the idea of using him as a weapon against Dumbledore, now that he had shielded the boy from Legilimency from anyone but him and instilled within him a fear of his Headmaster.

Perhaps he liked Harry Potter when the Dark magic had burned out, and he lay helpless on the floor of Quirrell’s office.

Quirinus found that he liked to toy with the child; make him feel as helpless and utterly annihilated as he once had felt.

After all, he would one day kill Harry Potter. He would make the life bleed out of those green eyes and watch them go still and glassy (like his mother’s, he remembered now), someday soon.

Even as he Obliviated the second child who dared to intercept his search for the Stone, Quirinus knew the end was dawning.

With shaking hands, he lifted the cigarette to his mouth and inhaled death. The weak, prim Quirinus who would have balked at the very idea of polluting his body with such a thing was no longer important to him. After all, what was nicotine and tar and his disgust at the idea of a smoking habit when the spirit of the Dark Lord lived within him?

No. He had been chosen for greater things.

Tonight was the night the end begun.

Quirinus signed the bottom of his letter of resignation, put out the cigarette, and placed in it his brand-new ashtray.

And yet, he cried.

“I have given you my all, My Lord,” he said, and his voice, his own voice was steady. “And now I am nothing.”

𝙼𝚊𝚏𝚊𝚕𝚍𝚊 𝙿𝚛𝚎𝚠𝚎𝚝𝚝/𝚃𝚘 𝙰𝚕𝚕 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚜 𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙳𝚛𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝙼𝚎 𝚄𝚙 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚆𝚊𝚕𝚕

August, 1986

“Just give it a chance, will you?” asked her dad, taking her luggage out the boot. “You won’t know you hate it until you try it.”

Everyone seemed to be giving her the same stupid advice today. When they stopped to get petrol during the drive from London, some weirdo in the petrol station had told her “Cheer up love, it might not happen!” She had responded by sticking her tongue out at them.

Mafalda frowned, crossed her arms, and leaned against the car.

“I don’t see why I can’t go to Roedean.”

“Well, you’re a witch, Mafalda.” He wiped his forehead and frowned. “Bloody hot, isn’t it?”

Witch. She hated the word already. Yeah, some of the girls at school were into Ouija boards and palm-reading and whatnot, but Mafalda didn’t go in for all of that nonsense.

The kind of nonsense that got Uncle Fabian and Uncle Gideon killed.

“And what do they call you and Mum again?”

Her dad sighed. “Squibs.”

“Yes, Dad! It’s not very nice, is it?”

She glared at the house as if it had personally offended her. It was tall, maybe four or five stories and so crooked that there was no way it hadn’t fallen down by now. A couple of brown chickens hobbled around the yard.

And in here lived the people who had sent her father off to Muggle boarding school, as far away from them as they could possibly manage, as soon as they could.

As her dad strode towards the door, Mafalda followed, kicking a rusty cauldron as she went by.

Before Mafalda could make her great escape, her dad knocked on the door and a plump, short, red-headed someone opened it almost immediately.

“Alfred?” she asked in a squeaky, shocked voice. Then, she glanced furtively behind her as if to check that no one was listening. “Alfred, what are you doing here?”

Her dad frowned, fanned himself with the collar of his shirt, and beckoned her closer so that the rude woman could look her up and down.

“Come on, Mals,” he whispered. “In for a penny, in for a pound, eh?”

Yeah, her hair probably looked a mess and the dress Mum had forced her to wear was all creased, but Mafalda didn’t think she would look particularly nice if she’d just spent three and a half hours in a stinky, sweaty car.

“Well,” said her dad, “this is your niece, Molly, and she’s a witch just like you. Got her Hogwarts letter last week and everything; Professor McGonagall said we should come over and see you. Of course, her mum and I know next to nothing about the wizarding world and Mals just barely remembers your brothers—“

Mafalda couldn’t help herself.

“You’re my aunt? Uncle Fabian and Uncle Gideon’s sister? Why’d you never come to see me?”

The woman — Aunt Molly — went red in the face.

“Come in, Mafalda,” she said tiredly. And at her father’s hard look, she added: “Come on then. Both of you. In.”

Once they were inside the cramped, cluttered kitchen, she was introduced to her cousins. Mafalda kind of tuned out for most of it because most of them were younger than her, bloody annoyingly loud, and she wasn’t the World’s Biggest Fan of small children, but she did pay attention to Charlie (thirteen and Gryffindor Seeker) and Bill (fifteen and a Prefect of Gryffindor House). The youngest boy was crying his eyes out because someone turned his teddy bear into a giant spider, but Aunt Molly didn’t seem to care. A ugly-looking sweater was knitting itself on the sofa.

While she obviously knew what a Prefect was, Mafalda had no idea what a Seeker was or why everyone was making such a big deal over Gryffindor or more to the point what Gryffindor even was!

“Who’s that, Mummy?” asked the youngest, a little girl with hair the same violent red as Mafalda’s.

“Your cousin, dear,” said Aunt Molly tiredly. “She’s just come to meet us, her father’s a Squib you see—“

The little girl screwed her face up.

“I don’t wanna Squib cousin!” she yelled.

Despite herself, Mafalda flinched, and her dad did, too.

“Don’t worry, dear. She’s a witch, just like you.”

As if that made it any better.

“I don’t wanna,” the girl repeated, glowering at Mafalda.

“Look,” said Mafalda harshly. “We’ll just leave, get our Squib selves out of your way and on the three-and-a-half-hour drive back to London. Thanks for nothing.”

“You didn’t call, Alfred,” said Aunt Molly.

Her dad pinched the bridge of his nose, looking frustrated.

“There’s no way to contact you, Molly. No phone, and you don’t get our kind of mail. Where am I going to get my hands on a trained owl?”

“She can sleep with Ginny,” said Aunt Molly, nodding towards the little girl.

Mafalda gave Bill, who seemed like the most sensible one of the bunch, a look that clearly said, I am not going to bloody sleep with that demon and that’s final.

“I can sleep with Charlie, Mum, and Mafalda can have my bed.”

Aunt Molly beamed. “What an angel,” she said. And to Mafalda. “Come, dear, let me take your trunk. We’ll all go shopping in Diagon Alley tomorrow, doesn’t that sound nice? Alfred, you wouldn’t mind—”

“—Not letting the world know you have a secret Squib cousin, you have nothing to fear, I’m well practiced, Molly.”

Charlie stood up. “Can I show her around the house, Mum?”

The youngest boy looked up, too.

“And can I have a piggy-back ride from her?”

“You’re too old, Ron!” said the snootiest-looking boy, who was sitting in the middle and had the least amount of dirt in his face.

“I’m not too old!” shrieked Ginny, waving her freckled arms. “I’m only five years old, Mum! I want a piggyback-ride!”

“When your dad gets home from work,” said Aunt Molly.

“You’ll get used to us,” Bill whispered.

I don’t have to like you, thought Mafalda.

“So are you coming?” asked Charlie. “We’ve got to de-gnome the garden. You should come too, Uncle Alfred.”

Dad said he’d come with them, but would rather watch. De-gnoming apparently seemed to involve spinning the tiny, screaming, spiteful little (animals? creatures?) until they shrieked with giddiness, then tossing them as far as you possibly could, which Mafalda was very good at, and Bill and Charlie were all too happy to cheer her on, even convincing her dad to join in, too.

"Don't mind Ginny," said Bill as he flung a particularly angry gnome over the hedge. "She doesn't know anything about anything. And it was wrong of Mum to push you away, but I hope we can be friends still, and that you'll come to Hogwarts with us."

Mafalda, despite herself, thought that was an entirely reasonable proposal.

Maybe she wasn’t going to hate the wizarding world.

It turned out that unfortunately for the sake of her sanity, Charlie loved to talk while he was working.

“Have you heard about Quidditch, Mafalda — oh, good one, Uncle Alfred! That must have gone like twenty yards! Did you know the Antipodean Opaleye has no pupils? What House are you going to be in?”

And yet, she found herself (ew) getting a bit fond of them already.

#quirrellmort #quirinus quirrell #mafalda prewett #mafalda weasley #harry potter fanfiction #hp fanfic #bill weasley #charlie weasley #harry potter

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rainydayhogwartsimagines · 4 years

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Hey there! Could I please get a fred Weasley x reader where the reader is a Slytherin, but befriends everyone all the same, maybe with the trope of her being best friends w the twins and everyone trying to set her and Fred up bc there's so much tension? But they're terribly oblivious? I absolutely love this trope lmaoo. Thank you and have a wonderful day!✨❤️

This is cute-- How in the world do you guys come up with this adorable stuff omfg.

Warnings: Abuse, swearing, panic attacks, slight NSFW conversations, set in a non voldy world.

You were a strange one. A Slytherin with a Hufflepuff personality. Honestly anyone that knew you questioned if for once the sorting hat was wrong for the first time. You had friends EVERYWHERE. Fred and George had heard of you, people saying even Filch could find you enjoyable to be around. Once they heard that, oh boy, they had to meet you. Fred and George finally did by the lake one day. Fred was talking to George, noticing a few cracks from limbs in the tree they were standing under here and there. Finally they had an answer as to what was making it do that when they heard “OH SHIT” followed by “INCOMING!” followed by you falling right into Fred’s arms. “My bad, I was trying to get a bird back in its nest.” You apologized, hopping down the the ground. Fred blinked a couple of times, looking at the tree and then you. “Uh... twig.” George said, pointing to his head to indicate you had a twig in your hair. “Hmm? Oh! thank you!” You realized. “Did... You just fall out of a tree?” Fred asked. “You’d be surprised on how much that happens. Oh are you those twins I’ve been hearing about?” You asked. “Probably. I’m Fred--” “That’s George, yep I know.” You nodded. “...Who are you?” George asked. “Oh-- I’m Y/n!” You said. “Ohhhhh. See this is beginning to make sense now.” George nodded. Fred was just... Staring at you. It wasn’t a perplexed face of “What the fuck just happened”. It was more: “This girl is.. Pretty?”

The twins started having more interactions with you. But there was the day you three became friends that neither of the boys will forget. Fred and George were sitting in the library. Reading? No. Napping? Yes. Well, until you slid into a seat. “Y/n?” Fred yawned. “Act. natural.” You said with this wild eyed look making George raise a brow. Then Draco ran in... With green hair. Fred was now awake and you were hiding your face in a book. “Have you seen Y/n!?” Draco growled. “No... But I see you decided to wear your Slytherin pride today.” George snorted. “You.” Draco growled. Then he noticed you laughing. He pulled down the book. “YOU!” He shouted. “Shit!” You gasped before Fred slid a chair in front of Draco, George bolting with you. You all hid in the one place Draco would never be caught dead in. The Gryffindor common room. You collapsed out of breath on the couch laughing with the boys. “What in the world made you do that?” George wheezed. “He decided to be a dick to my friend this morning. I got revenge. Tomorrow I’m thinking blue. He’s been giving Ravenclaw trouble lately.” You laughed making Fred snort. “Your idea is amazing, might I suggest we rig an exploding ink pen?” George said. “With silver ink, because red just seems to clash with that boy’s eyes.” You said making the boys laugh harder. “Oh I think we’re going to enjoy having you around, won’t we Freddie boy?” George asked. “Indeed Georgie. Indeed.” Fred chuckled.

So the mischievous three were introduced to the world. You had this policy though: Only prank the assholes. So that automatically meant a lot of kids from Slytherin. With each prank you got closer to the boys. Specifically Fred. Something about him just drew you in, like a moth to a flame. George wasn’t stupid either, he could see the looks you two would give each other. When you all entered your fourth year, you had started helping out with their little underground business. You spent the first two weeks of summer that year at home but actually ended up staying with the Weasleys’. You seemed... A little off though. Fred and George both noticed you begin to space out at times, giving off almost this sad look. Whenever they’d talk to you though, you looked at them like you normally would. Something was wrong. They could feel it. It wasn’t until they met your father at the station they realized what was going on. He seemed to snap at you a lot, making you go completely silent. To anyone that didn’t know you this was a normal response. To the boys though, you always had something to say. If you were quiet, this was because you were afraid. Not disciplined. You sat on the train in complete silence. Neither of the boys were sure if they should ask you about your dad. You focused on the rain drops on the window. “I’ve always liked the rain. What about you guys?” You finally asked. “Makes me tired as shit.” George said making you crack a smile. “Heard one of Harry’s uncles is teaching this year.” Fred said. “I think I remembered him mentioning that. The Remus guy?” You asked. “He’s standing in while Quirrell is away.” George nodded. “As long as it isn’t like last year’s substitute.” You groaned. “Fucking Gilderoy.” All of you said in unison making each other laugh. “I swear a simple breeze makes Quirrell catch something.” George sighed. “He does end up getting sick a lot. Remember when he got chicken pox?” You asked. “You would’ve thought the bastard was dying.” Fred nodded. ”He has the immune system of an infant, I swear.” you laughed.

You all sat around in the Great Hall, you catching a glimpse of who the new substitute professor was. He had a scar on his face and it reminded you of something. You just couldn’t figure out what. Eventually though, you came to like the way Remus taught. He had a sense of humor. Not that Quirrell didn’t it was just very awkward when he did finally crack a damn joke. Remus rose a brow when he saw your first and last name on the roll call. “Miss Y/n, is your mother perhaps Persephone L/n?” Remus asked. Fred rose a brow. “She was sir.” you said, making George look up. “Was?” Remus asked. “She passed on when I was eight sir. Why, did you know her?” you asked, earning a couple of students to glance at your response. “I did. Very kind woman. Who did she marry?” Remus asked. “Cassian Lestrange sir.” You responded, making everyone now halt. “...I see.” Remus nodded. “Something wrong?” You asked. “No offense.. I truly mean none. But I genuinely cannot see Cassian as a father.” Remus admitted. You nodded looking down. “He’s... An interesting man.” You muttered, your look distant and pained. Remus noticed, but changed the subject. Fred looked back at his desk. He had no idea about any of this, much less a distant relation to Draco. Judging by your reaction to the questions though, Fred decided it was best to leave it be. You enjoyed Remus’ class, him noticing a few similarities to your mother as you interacted with other students. You always had a smile on your face when you spoke to others. But the one thing he always noticed was the looks that you and Fred would share. George usually paired up with a girl but Fred ALWAYS paired up with you. You two worked well together. It almost reminded him of two other people he knew... Today though, wasn’t the best of days. It was time to practice Boggarts. You already knew what yours was, but you weren’t ready to exactly displayed to the class. You however walked forward and did it anyways, holding your breath as the Boggart began to shift. Finally it did.

Into your father. You opened your mouth to say a spell but nothing came out, your hands shaking as it inched forward. Fred looked at you and then the boggart, quickly pulling you back with one arm and shouting “riddikulus”. You couldn’t still your breathing and it only seemed to be getting worse. “Y/n? Look at me.” Fred said, ignoring the students watching you. Remus locked the closet and you hyperventilated. “Class dismissed.” Remus said, shuffling the other students out. “I-I can’t-- b-breathe.” you whimpered. George ran over and you gripped your head. “Y/n. I’m right here Love, follow my breathing.” Fred said softly. You followed his movements. “What’s your favorite book?” George asked making Remus raise a brow. “S-sense and Sensibility.” You answered, still regulating your breathing. “Personally I’m more of a short story man, what about you Freddie?” George asked. “Not big on reading. More of a napping fellow.” Fred answered. You let out a small laugh and straightened your posture. “What’s your favorite class?” Fred asked. “P-probably this one.. with the exception of t-today.” you answered. Remus reached into his drawer and handed you chocolate and a bottled water. “Thank you professor.” You muttered. You sat down and sighed. “Y/n... I hate to ask this, truly I do. But is there anything going on at home?” Remus asked. You didn’t say anything. “I... Don’t want to answer that question.” You finally said. Fred frowned and George exchanged a look. “Boys, do you mind leaving us for a few moments?” Remus asked. Fred kneeled to you, looking at your face. “I’ll be outside if you need me. Okay?” He asked. You nodded and he got up, leaving with George.

The door closed and Fred let out a long sigh. “I am going to kill her father, want to help?” Fred said. “Hand me a shovel.” George said simply. “Why didn’t she say anything?” Fred asked. “She doesn’t even want to talk to Lupin Fred. You saw her face, she most likely didn’t want to remember.” George said. Fred looked at the door and sighed. “We can’t let her go home George. Not this summer.” Fred said. “I’m with you.” George agreed. The two boys became a bit more protective over you. But they found it so strange that you still kept the happy go lucky personality despite going through all of this. Then Fred found you one night in the astronomy tower with a blanket. You were propped up against one of the stone arch’s and looking at the night sky. “Y/n?” Fred asked. You looked over at him. “Hey Fred.” You said with that smile. He sat across from you. “What brings you up here?” Fred asked. “Insomnia. And cookies.” You said. “Cookies?” Fred asked. You scooched closer to him, pushing a tin of cookies to him. He took one and you sighed looking at the stars. “Can I ask you something?” He said. “Sure.” You nodded. “What keeps that smile on your face all the time?” He asked. You let out a long breath, thinking over a detailed answer. “Lots of reasons. I have two kickass best friends that will fight for me no matter what, I have really cool teachers, I have friends who are like family.” you answered. “But... I keep that smile because some times someone just needs to see the good in the world. I won’t lie to you. My life is much darker than I think you accounted for. But if my smile provides someone else some light then damn it I’ll keep this up.” You said. Fred looked at you surprised. “Y/n...” He muttered. You looked at Fred and he said nothing, pulling you into his arms. You slowly hugged him back and he sighed. “I swear if anyone tries anything with you again, I will personally send them to their grave.” Fred said making you laugh. “I’m serious!” Fred said, not being able to keep a straight face seeing your smile. “Shut up and take a cookie.” You laughed.

You two were found passed out the next morning my Luna. You were in Fred’s arms and he was holding you close. You two never brought it up, despite the fact that both of you were blushing like crazy when you woke up. It was now CRYSTAL fucking clear how Fred felt about you to George after witnessing a snowball fight between you two that resulted in Fred tickling your sides and making you laugh during a Hogsmeade trip. You smiled in his arms, faces inches apart. If Fred and George’s jackass brother hadn’t gotten into a fight with Draco, George was 95% sure you two would’ve kissed.

You seemed distracted by something else though, and that was your professor. The scar on his face- why did it look familiar? And why was Remus going to Snape for a secret potion? You noticed that he was pretty secretive about his personal life and Harry never answered the question of where the mark came from. You took what you like to call “The Granger Approach.” Which was basically reading until you had a reliable answer. Fred sat with you the entire time, napping or talking to George while you read. Both boys were passed out by the time you found an answer. “Oh... Shit.” you realized, making Fred open an eye. “Find what you’re looking for?” George yawned. “...Yeah and I think Remus is going to be absent tomorrow.” You said looking at the full moon through the large glass windows. “Why’s that?” Fred asked. “He’s a werewolf.” You said in a whisper. Both boys looked at you with a “You can’t be serious” expression. “What makes you say that?” Fred asked. “Ron said something. Harry’s class saw his boggart. It was the moon.” You said. George blinked. “If our little brother is your proof that’s not exactly reliable.” George said. “How do you explain the potions he gets from Snape, or the scar on his face, or the fact that he was leaving campus this afternoon?” You asked. “He was?” Fred asked. “He was sneaking around but I noticed him.” You shrugged. “Alright. Say he doesn’t show up tomorrow. Who fills in for a substitute?” George asked. “Probably Snape.” you grumbled. “You’re a Slytherin and you don’t like Snape? My God you really are a strange one.” Fred teased making you smile. George rolled his eyes. “Do we ask him about this?” George asked. “No. We leave this alone unless Remus needs help.” you said. “How in the hell were you not sorted into Hufflepuff? Like honestly?” Fred asked. “I have no idea. Luna says its never wrong though.” You shrugged.

Sure enough, Remus didn’t show up and Snape took over class that day. Fred, George and you all exchanged knowing glances but overall didn’t say anything. The school year finally came to a close and you were honestly sad to see Remus go. The crazy thing was: That day when you explained your boggart to Remus, he told you that his door was open to you if you needed to leave home. You declined but Fred was hellbent on you staying with them for the summer. He hated the idea of you being potentially in harm’s way. This offer you accepted. You showed up, bags in hand with that same beautiful smile. Molly was of course excited to see you and you were happy to be there. The Burrow honestly felt like home. You and Fred had so many moments though that made the whole family go “Dude. Kiss already. PLEASE.” Specifically when you saw a spider and screamed, practically climbing up Fred while he killed the damn thing. “You managed to go into the forbidden forest alone and came back unscathed but a small spider scares you?” Fred asked, your legs having a death grip around his torso. “THEY ARE FUCKING CREEPY FRED!” You whined. “It’s smaller than you!” He laughed, holding you up. “SO IS A GRENADE!” you whined. You hopped down and eyed the dead spider. “Afraid it’ll crawl--” “FRED IT HAD BABIES!” You screamed, climbing right back up him, more directed to his face. “Oh for Christ’s sake--” He said, enchanting a broom to sweep them out. “You’re a Slytherin. All of you have creepy creatures for pets and you are terrified of..” “Fred faced you as you were linked to his side, inches away from him. You looked in his eyes, almost as if you were looking for something, swallowing hard. “What the hell happened here?” Ron asked, seeing the two of you. “I saw a spider.” “OH GOD WHERE--”

George was tired of this tension. Yes, it was cute to see his brother head over heels. But my GOD WERE YOU FUCKING DENSE. BOTH OF YOU. How could you two have so many OBVIOUS moments that would make people who barely knew you go “Oh so they like each other” But you two still be clueless to the other’s intentions. You two also talked endlessly to George and Ginny. Both of them would sit there listening wanting to say something, but kept their oaths of silence. This year things were bound to change though. You see: this year was a Triwizard tournament. Other schools were coming to this shindig. And a boy from Durmstrang seemed awfully fixated on you. You were friendly, inviting him to sit and Fred would just be internally screaming the whole time watching you. The Durmstrang boy would do things that literally made Fred’s eye fucking twitch: playing with your hair, complimenting your smile, constantly looking at you. You were oblivious to this being flirty though, unaware of the boy’s crush on you. Finally one day Fred had to talk to you about it. He could not stand watching this little fucker with you. “You should talk to her Fred. Tell her how you feel.” George said. “And if she doesn’t feel the same way?” Fred asked. George practically slammed his head down onto the table in frustration, releasing a long groan. “JUST. ASK. HER.” George whined, making Fred jump. “Good God man, what’s gotten into you!?” Fred asked. “NOTHING FRED. ABSOLUTELY NOTHING.” George groaned, getting up and making Ginny nearly die of silent laughter.

You were in the library, grabbing a few books for a herbology project when Fred popped up, scaring the shit out of you. “Christ! Say something when you’re behind me!” You breathed. “Sorry! Sorry.” Fred apologized. “What do you need?” You asked curiously. “What’s going on with you and that Durmstrang kid?” Fred asked. “What do you mean?” you asked, moving down the aisle, looking for a specific book. “Do you like him?” Fred asked. “He’s cool.” You shrugged. “Not like that Y/n.” Fred huffed. “Like what?” You asked. “Romantically. Do you like him romantically?” Fred asked. “Wha-- no!” You gagged. Fred felt a wave of relief wash over him. “Why did you want to know?” You asked. “It’s just... He acts like he likes you. That’s all.” Fred said. You stopped and turned around, a questioning squint on your face. “Would it have bothered you if I did?” You asked. “Yes.” Fred answered, no hesitation in his words. “Why?” you asked. Fuck. Fred did not think this through. “It just would’ve.” Fred said. “Again, why would this have bothered you?” You asked. “No particular reason!” He lied. “Answer the god damn question before I ask out Luka out of spite!” You snapped. “You do that and I ask Angela out!” He said back. You glared. “Oh that bothers you!?” Fred noticed the expression. “Yes it bothers me!” You said. “Why!?” Fred asked. “I asked you first, you dolt!” You said. Both of you were quickly becoming aggravated, glaring at each other. Fred couldn’t take it anymore and slammed his lips onto yours, resulting in you dropping the book in your hands and cupping his cheeks. You two eventually pulled away for this stupid thing called air and you let out a small laugh. “Well shit Fred, if you would’ve just started with that I wouldn’t have had to ask.” You laughed. He smiled, his hands around your waist. “You’re lucky we’re in public or else I would’ve done a lot more than that Princess.” Fred said in your ear. You looked at him with a smirk “If I knew making you jealous would make you act like this, my God I would’ve made friends with this kid ages ago.” You laughed. “Oh bite your tongue.” He chuckled. “Hmm, I’m thinking I leave that to you.” you teased. He shook his head, kissing you again.

George caught you two and he actually screamed “HALLEFUCKINGLUJAH” at the top of his lungs, making both of you jump. You three ended up in detention (you and Fred were in trouble for the book mess), George telling you two how the past few months were absolute hell. “I have been watching you two jackasses, trying to get you to DATE since LAST JANUARY. IT’S OCTOBER.” George complained. “It wasn’t that bad!” You laughed. “Not that bad-- NOT THAT BAD!? FRED TALKS MY GOD DAMN EAR OFF ABOUT YOU AT NIGHT-- I DON’T SLEEP” George whined. “Has he now?” You asked, smirking at Fred who was smiling. “You’re always on the bastard’s mind! And I have to listen to Ginny complain to me with the same issue-- ‘Y/n was talking about Fred again to Hermione. Something about if given the chance she’d definitely shag him’.” George quoted making you choke on air and cough as Fred looked at you with an amused smirk. “Would you now?” Fred asked. You rolled your eyes “What was it you said to me a few hours ago-- ‘You’re lucky we’re in public or else--’” “I remember what I said Darling, I just wanted to know where your mind was.” Fred teased. “Oh you know exactly what I’m thinking you little shit.” You griped making him snort. “Oh God Mcgonagall better come back soon, I’m locked in a room with two randy jackasses.” George prayed aloud. “Relax we’re not going to shag.” Fred said. “Thank god.” George sighed. “That’s not until three.” Fred yawned making you snort and George slammed his head on his desk. “DRINK HOLY WATER YOU UNGODLY SINNERS”

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x you #fred weasley

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rosiegeee · 3 years

Text

Final Chapters of my Harry Potter Re-Write Are Out

Special thanks for chapter 15 to my brother who helped me write the chess scene. Anyway here are some passages from all three chapters:

Chapter 15: Through the Trapdoor

Harry took a deep breath, although Professor McGonagall was the head of Gryffindor, Harry had learned her to be fair, strict, but fair. He decided the only way to get through to her was to tell as much of the truth as possible.

'We know about the Philosopher's Stone, and we have come across a plot to steal it, we need to warn Dumbledore.'

Whatever Professor McGonagall had expected, it wasn't that. The books she was carrying tumbled out of her arms but she didn't pick them up.

'How do you know-?' she spluttered.

'There is no time for that, we know that who wants to steal it knows how to get by at least two of the charms below the trap door, and we know they know know how to get by Fluffy the dog, and that they have just been waiting for Dumbledore to get out of the way. Professor, I think the owl was a fake, I think the thief plans on stealing the Stone today or tonight.'

She eyed him with complete shock, but she seemed to believe him.

'Harry, you have got to tell me how you know all this, then I can know how to help.'

This was a road block however, he couldn't mention how he knew about the stone as that would almost certainly lose Hagrid his job and despite his biases Harry liked Hagrid, he also couldn't mention that it is Snape as she would assume he was just angry at his head of house, and he couldn't say Voldemort as she wouldn't believe him. Harry hung his head low.

'I-I, it's one of the teachers, that is all I can say.'

'Who Harry?'

Chapter 16: The Man With Two Faces

Harry couldn’t take it in. It couldn’t be true. Sirius had said he knew Quirrell in school, and unlike when he mentioned Snape or his family he talked about Quirrell with no animosity.

‘But Snape tried to kill me!’

‘No, no, no. I tried to kill you. When your friend Miss Davis cast that Titillando jink on Snape he ended up knocking me over, which I think he did on purpose. It broke my eye contact with you. Another few seconds and I’d have gotten you flung off your broom. I'd have managed it before then if Snape hadn’t been muttering a counter-cure, trying to save you.’

‘Snape was trying to save me?’

‘Of course,’ said Quirrell coolly. ‘Why do you think he wanted to referee your next match? He was trying to make sure I didn’t do it again. Funny really...he needn’t have bothered. I couldn’t do anything with Dumbledore watching. All the other teachers thought Snape was trying to stop Ravenclaw winning, he did make himself unpopular...and what a waste of time, when after all that, I’m going to kill you tonight.’

Chapter 17: All's Well That Ends Well

‘HARRY!’

The three of them dashed to his side. Tracey gave him a hug which despite appreciating, still hurt his sore body.

‘Harry you did it, but we were so scared.’

‘You and Allison were unconscious for so long.’

‘But now the entire school is talking about what you did on Friday,’ said Allison. ‘But every tale sounds different, Theo filled me in on what happened after I was knocked out, but what happened once you went through the fire.’

It was one of those rare occasions when the true story is even more strange and exciting than the wild rumours. Harry told them everything: Quirrell; the Mirror; the Stone and Voldemort. The trio were a very good audience; they gasped in all the right places and, when Harry told them what was under Quirrell’s turban, Theodore let out a fearful squeal.

‘So the Stone has been destroyed?’ said Tracey finally. ‘That means Flamel will die?’

‘That’s what I said, but Dumbledore thinks that-what was it?-“to the well-organised mind, death is But the next great adventure”.’

Suddenly Allison started laughing, ‘The old man has lost it, good for him.’ And they all had a chuckle.

‘So what happened to you three?’ asked Harry.

‘Well, once Theodore emerged I ran back to the key room and got the brooms like you said, and the two of us were carefully bring Allison back when Dumbledore came flying in.’

‘He just looked at us and said, “Harry’s gone after him, hasn’t he?” and sped by us. Anyway we managed to get Snape’s attention, that was a surprise, and he helped bring McGonagall and Allison to Madam Pomfrey. McGonagall woke up not long after dawn, and Allison finally came to that afternoon.’

‘I still got the bump to show what I did.’

They continued talking and catching up, Harry just felt better being with his friends. Tracey finally broke the knees about the house cup.

‘We’re in last place, Ravenclaw beat Gryffindor in Quidditch, not enough to take away the quidditch championship from us, but enough to pull ahead in the school points system.’

Keep reading chapter 15 here or here, 16 here or here, and 17 here or here

Art under the cut

Here is all the art done for the book, the art is by @noktoraspali and @letraspal respectively.

Drawing of Allison Runcorn and her cat Shabaz

Drawing to celebrate Canini coming out, I love Canini so much and I hope to write about her more in the future.

And This is Harry coming home for Easter break, it is so sweet and I love all three of these drawings so much. You two are amazing artists.

#Harry Potter #wolfstar #Sirius Black #Remus Lupin #hogwarts #slytherin #runcorn #terence higgs #theodore nott #tracey davis #trans #trans rights #fuck jk rowling #snape #severus snape #Quirinus Quirrell #voldemort #mtf

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drarryruinedme7 · 4 years

Text

Two Thousand

I promised I’d write something for you all… and here it is! I love you, I’m so happy to share this fandom life with you, so I really hope you’ll like this!

Drarry | Word Count: 3,5k | Rating: Teens (mention of wanking) | Tags: Draco-centric, paper cranes, Pansy and Draco friendship, 8th year (with a great deal of years from 1 to 5 too), and they were roommates (in the end, like, really end, like the last 400 words), coming out, Lucius is a Fun Dad | Beta: the magical @fictional, tagging @shealwaysreads and @keyflight790 too :3

Two Thousand

It took Draco two thousand times.

He still remembered the first one. Eleven years old, Slytherin common room. It was the second day, but the hierarchy was already established. Draco was sitting on the big leather black armchair in front of the hearth, Goyle and Crabbe at his sides. Pansy sitting on the green velvety carpet, painting her nails.

Looking back at it, Draco laughed. They looked so presumptuous, so entitled. He really believed he was superior. What a big bag of bullshit.

So, that’s how they were positioned the first time. Draco huffed, crossing his arms in front of his chest, eyebrows drawn close. Pansy looked up at him, cocking her head. “What?”

Draco’s posture only stiffened more. He was so pissed. “It’s about…!” He uncrossed his arms, gesturing widely in the air as he spoke. “It’s about Potter! Stupid, famous, scarhead Potter! Did you see the way he turned me down? The impudence!”

Goyle and Crabbe nodded next to him, fueling Draco’s anger. He went on. “He doesn’t know who he got as an enemy! I’ll make him regret this!”

Pansy snorted, and Draco stopped to glare at her. She shook her head, amused. “Wow. Potter, again. It’s our second day of school and you’re still talking about that. You took it well, huh?”

“It’s just so unfair! That’s not how it was supposed to go!” Draco slumped against the back of the armchair, feeling a lump forming in his throat. He had thought of that moment for the entire summer, he always got what he wanted, that simply wasn’t how—

Pansy shook him out of his thoughts. “Aw, poor Draco. Look I’m sorry you’re grieving because the boy of your dreams didn’t shake your hand—”

“He’s not the boy of my dreams, Pansy!”

“— but there’s little you can do now. Now you’re enemies, right? So, stop talking about him. It’s getting boring,” Pansy concluded, taking up the nail polish and starting to put it on again.

Draco’s eyes widened. He gasped, outraged. “It’s not like he’s everything I talk about, you’re my friend and I need to talk about it, so—”

“Okay, I’m gonna stop you right there,” Pansy said, rolling her eyes. She got up from the carpet, gesturing with her hands as to say she’d be back in a moment and disappearing into the girls’ dorms. She reemerged shortly after, a shit-eating smile on her face and a jar in her hands.

“I present to you, the Potter jar. Every time you talk about him, you’re gonna make a paper crane and put it in here.” She smiled satisfied. Draco looked at her as she’d just suggested going skiing on the frozen Black Lake.

“Are you mental? Why a paper crane? I’m not gonna do it!”

“Because you’re crap at origami and maybe after two times obliged to do it you will stop talking about Potter altogether, knackered from paper cuts.”

Someone, a stringy boy with brown hair and almost as pale skin as Draco’s, snickered next to them. Draco turned, scowling at him. “Got any problems?”

The boy shrugged. “Ah, I would never. I just find it funny. You do talk a lot about Harry Potter.”

“What’s your name?” Pansy asked, narrowing her eyes at him.

“Theodore Nott.”

Draco’s mouth formed a little ‘o’. He knew the boy’s father — Father used to mention him from time to time when talking about the War. From what he remembered, Nott’s family was pureblood from tradition. And surely he would have known everything about Draco too.

“Well, Nott, no one asked for your opinion,” Draco said. “And it’s not true I’m bad at origami! I’ll show you.” He grabbed his bag, fished out his notebook, tore a page apart and started folding it carefully, cursing under his breath at every wobbly line. Pansy laughed and snapped her fingers at Crabbe to make him move and sit next to Draco.

Ten or eleven paper cuts later, Draco clapped his hands, showing proudly his creation, and discovering annoyed that Pansy had started chatting with the Nott guy, Crabbe and Goyle had fallen asleep on the couch and another guy with thick curly hair and dark brown skin had joined them.

“Oh look, he’s done it,” the boy said. “Blaise Zabini, nice to meet you.” He stretched his hand towards Draco and Draco raised an eyebrow at it, his mind quickly scanning information. Zabini. Wasn’t he the kid with the Veela mother? That looked cool. Draco shook his hand and nodded to him.

Pansy took the paper crane and put it in the jar. “Good, Draco, it only took you four tentatives and several cuts.” They all laughed, waking up Crabbe and Goyle. Draco scowled at them, faking offence.

How dare they make fun of him when they had just met him? Besides, it didn’t mean anything. Of course he would have stopped talking about Potter — he wasn’t that important.

———

At the end of the year, Draco was packing his trunk, only distantly hearing Nott and Zabini’s voices in the background. He was still thinking about the rumors that spread like marmalade in the last few days.

“Do you believe it?” Draco asked as he locked the trunk. Crabbe and Goyle immediately turned to him, perplexed expressions on their faces.

Blaise and Theo’s were no exception. “Um, what are you talking about?”

“What the entire school is talking about! Potter and his duel with Quirrell, apparently—”

Blaise’s snort startled him, closely followed by Theo’s. He pointed to the Potter Jar and choked out between waves of laughter, “Paper crane, now!”

Draco stomped his foot, gasping. “Oh, c’mon! Don’t tell me you haven’t wondered about it either!”

“I did,” Crabbe said. Goyle nodded next to him. “Y-yeah, we did. We think it’s true. I mean, you’ve seen him in classes, he’s powerf—”

“Shut up!” Draco cried, already Accioing a piece of paper. “Okay, okay! I don’t— let’s not talk about it! I’ll make the damn crane.”

Theo and Blaise nodded to him, returning to whatever they were talking about. Draco finished his paper crane in mere seconds and put it in the jar, chewing on his bottom lip. Of course he became so good at origami: the jar was already filled with what Draco suspected were more than a hundred paper cranes.

———

“Did you hear him? That was Parseltongue!”

“Potter jar!” Pansy snickered. “Immediately.”

“Oh, c’mon! Parseltongue, Pans! How do you expect me not to talk about this?!”

“You always have an excuse, Draco. Jar. Now.” Blaise grabbed it and shoved it into Draco’s chest, rolling his eyes.

“There’s no space anymore.” Draco tried, as he was already folding the page into the familiar structure.

“Shrink them,” Theo replied, not bothering to look up from the book he was reading. “There’s no escaping it. Either you stop talking about him, or you make the crane. For as much as I care, you’ll end up filling the entire common room with origami, but you will make them. It’s principle.”

Draco huffed and put the crane in the jar, shrinking the ones already in it. They didn’t understand! Everyone was so fixated with Potter and his heroics, but Draco knew he was only a spoiled brat like anybody else, who bragged about his fame and acted as if the school was his. Draco knew it was just a matter of time before anyone realised it.

———

“Oh Merlin, did you hear it? It looks like Potter fainted on the train, can you belie—”

“Jar.” Pansy conjured it, shooing him away with the other hand. “I’m eating.”

“But! He fainted, Pansy!” Draco scrunched up his nose as he quickly folded a piece of paper into a small crane and pushed it into the jar.

“And you cried, jumping on my lap, hugging me. You’re even, happy?” Blaise smirked, finishing to butter up his bread and elbowing Theo who blinked at Draco.

Draco felt his face heating up. He muttered, “You’re supposed to be my friends…”

“That’s why we won’t tell him,” Blaise chimed in.

“Well, I bloody well hope not, you bastards!” Draco gritted out, pushing his plate away. He suddenly wasn’t hungry anymore.

“Ah, Blaise wasn’t talking about that. Everyone knows you cried anyway, you were so loud,” Theo added, lowering his voice.

Pansy choked on her piece of bread, eyes quickly filling up with tears while laughing. Draco pulled his tongue at her, narrowing his eyes at Theo. “And what, then?”

Theo, Blaise and Pansy exchanged a look, their lips quirking up in devilish smiles. “That you’re in love with him!” Blaise exclaimed as Theo tightened his lips probably trying to hold back his laughter.

“What the fuck are you on about?” Draco spluttered, heart hammering in his chest. Why, why the fuck was his heart racing like that at a stupid joke?

“Oh, c’mon Dray, we’re just kidding.” Pansy pushed the plate towards Draco again, her eyes softening. “Eat something.”

Draco stood up, so suddenly that all the Slytherins’ eyes turned to him at once. “Fuck you,” he managed to spit before speeding to the doors of the Great Hall, eyes stinging.

That was the start of everything. If he had only reached the sum of three hundreds of paper cranes until then, the number increased spirally from that moment on.

His friends were wrong. First of all, he wasn’t gay. He couldn’t be gay. He was a Malfoy, the only male heir, no way. And second, he hated Potter. And he intended to demonstrate it to his friends as much as he could.

“I’ll scare the shit out of him during Quidditch!”

“Jar!”

“I made these pins, do you like them? Ha, love him. As if!”

“Draco, you’re completely insane. We were kidding! And these are worth at least fifty paper cranes. Jar. Start working now!”

“Walk faster, I wanna see Potter drowning in the Black Lake.”

“Jar.”

“So, they say Potter successfully resisted the Imperius Curse, huh.”

“I’m not even saying it anymore.” Blaise Accioed the jar and gave it to Draco without saying a word. Draco took it and smiled. His plan was proceeding in the best way.

“I bet Potter will get lost in the labyrinth after barely ten minutes in.”

“Jar, jar, jaaaar! Now!”

Draco took the jar and spelled it to reveal the number of objects it contained. One thousand. He wiggled his eyebrows and cleared his throat. “See, Pansy, I told you. Not in love. Every single one of this is impregnated with hatred.”

Pansy cocked her head, exchanging a quick look with Blaise. “Sure, Draco.”

———

“Do you think it’s true? What Potter says… You-Know-Who’s come back?” Draco asked his father during dinner. The next day he’d be back at Hogwarts, and while he managed to not talk about it the entire summer, he couldn’t go back to school with the doubt in his mind.

Lucius slowly raised his head, fixing his arctic eyes on him. Draco gulped audibly, looking for his mother’s eyes. But Narcissa’s gaze was still trained on her dish.

“Draco, you disappoint me, as always. Who do you believe, Potter or the Ministry? You-Know-Who’s dead.”

Draco nodded, feeling his teeth hurt for how much he was clenching his jaws. He took a deep breath when Lucius spoke again. “And also. Jar.”

Draco’s eyes almost fell out of his head as he saw out of the corner of them Narcissa smiling at the plate. He abruptly turned his neck to his father, cracking, “W-what? I— what?”

Lucius conjured the Potter jar and pushed it to Draco. “Pansy gave it to me at the beginning of summer, telling me to check on you. I find it rather disgusting that you need a jar to restrain from talking about Potter, Draco. I should hope you have more self-control than this.”

Draco stared at him in disbelief, trying to decide if he was dreaming or if it was happening for real. Surely his father wouldn’t? But then he saw Lucius raising his eyebrows and stretching his lips in the closest depiction of a smile he’d ever seen him doing and Draco let himself breathe evenly.

“I can’t believe this,” he murmured, folding the napkin into a paper crane. “I’ll kill Pansy.”

———

“I love you, Pans,” Blaise snorted as he listened to Draco telling them about what had happened the previous day at dinner.

“Shut it! You’re an idiot. What were you thinking?!”

Pansy smiled, patting the seat free next to her for Draco. “Come here, git. Narcissa found it amusing. She actually told me you never stop babbling about Potter at home too. You’re so cute with your crush.”

“Again with this story! I don’t have a crush!” Draco cried, standing up. The Hogwarts Express came to a stop and Draco stormed out of their compartment, the others following him, still snickering or sending him fake kisses.

On the platform, they ran into Potter and his gang. He looked gloomy, Ron and Hermione a step behind him, bickering. Draco walked past him, bumping shoulders with him, spitting something mean. Potter shoved him back, and when their eyes met Draco saw almost tears in Potter’s, something dark veiling them. He shut up, speeding to surpass them.

“What was that?” Pansy asked once they were in the common room again.

“Potter looked sad,” Draco said, thinking. He didn’t even wait for them to remind him — he took a piece of paper and started folding his crane. He didn’t even care. He wanted to talk about it.

“Like, really sad.”

“So what?” Blaise intervened from his position on the carpet.

“So…” Draco started, short for words. So what, indeed. He shouldn’t care. Instead, he couldn’t forget Potter’s eyes, how it looked like he could explode any moment, like he could lose control of his life in a blink. Draco knew how that felt. He felt like that every time the thought of other blokes crossed his mind, and he couldn’t help but wank furiously, sighing all the wrong names.

“Don’t tell me you’re worried,” Theo piped in.

“Of course, I’m not.”

———

Draco wrenched his head away from the memories unfurling one after the other in front of his eyes. He knew what would come next. He couldn’t bear to look at his Sixth or Seventh Year memories.

Massaging his temples, Draco sat on the sofa again, the paper crane all crumpled in his hand. After his father ended up in Azkaban in Fifth Year the number of cranes in the jar increased a bit to rapidly decrease until it reached zero during Sixth and Seventh Year.

He was around one thousand and fifty when it happened. The truth was that those couple of years were the loneliest of Draco’s life. He isolated himself from his friends, from everyone, stopped talking about anything. But if he’d had to fold a crane for every time he thought about Potter during those two years — well, then Draco knew he would have reached an embarrassing amount of them.

Instead, when they started the Eighth Year, the jar was still stationary at one thousand and sixty-two. When McGonagall said they’d be all together in the same tower and when she then proceeded to list who they were roomed up with, Pansy agreed to stop with the Potter jar.

“Okay, I can see this would be pushing it too far. You’re roomed with him now, end of games. Enjoy your crush!”

Draco didn’t bother replying anymore. His feelings towards Potter were a complete mess by then.

He had spent a couple of years convinced he really despised him, to arrive in Sixth Year at craving him like he didn’t think it was ever possible. He dreamt of showing up to Potter, confessing to him he had taken the Dark Mark and begging him to take Draco with him, to protect him. He would have done anything. He would have even spied for him.

He dreamt of letting it go with him, finally. To cry and hug him, and ask for forgiveness and to receive it.

All his dreams broke when Potter cast the Sectumsempra. Draco stepped too far and he got to pay the consequences of it. But then during the War, Potter saved his life in the Room of Requirement and when asked to identify him, Draco refused. He couldn’t. He would never. Potter didn’t deserve to die, even Draco knew it.

Now his feelings were shifting from gratitude to something scary and too deep for Draco to grasp. Something that made him whimper during nights and shy away from every attempt Potter made to talk with him at days. He just couldn’t.

Couldn’t let himself believe he could be friends with him. Couldn’t let his feelings grow any more than this.

“I need to talk with you,” Draco said, torturing the paper crane in his hand, tears in his eyes.

Pansy took his face in her hands, placed a kiss on his cheek. “Sure, darling. Come in.”

Draco stepped into her room which she shared with Granger and Bulstrode and sat on Pansy’s bed.

“What is it? Do you want some water?”

Draco shook his head. “I think—” He started, then choked on his own saliva. He sniffed, cleared his throat. “I think I’m gay.”

Pansy’s lips trembled before she composed herself and sighed. She took his hands in hers. “Draco, darling. Why do you say so?”

“I just. No. I don’t think I’m gay. I know I am.” Saying it out loud for the first time felt like taking off tight shoes. It was freeing, it was amazing and terrifying at the same time.

Pansy smiled. It was warm, loving. “Oh, Draco.” She hugged him, clutching him tight against her chest, covering his head with kisses. “It’s okay,” she breathed into his hair. “It’s okay. You can do this. It’s okay. You’re okay.”

Draco didn’t know he needed to hear those words until they rang with Pansy’s voice and he started sobbing on her neck. “This is a fucking disaster, Pansy. My father is already looking for a wife for me, and I’m, I’m—”

“Sssh. Stop it. We’ll make him understand. It’ll be okay. You’ll be okay.” She lulled him back and forth, whispering encouragements into his ear.

“I watched some memories,” Draco said after a while, voice grasping with cries. “I’m confused. I, Potter, he… shit, I like him.”

Pansy went still, her arms tightening around Draco. In a second he felt her shaking against him and he pulled out of her hug, looking at her indignantly. “You’re laughing! You’re laughing, you horrible human being!”

“I can’t believe you, Draco. I just—” A grunt escaped her while she tried to talk and laugh at the same time. “I knew it, oh Salazar. I fucking knew it.”

———

“I have something for you.”

Potter blinked at Draco, his face flushing prettily. “Err, excuse me?”

“I know,” Draco said, feeling his hands tremble and shoving them in his pockets to hide them. “I know I’ve been shitty to you.”

Potter raised a hand and Draco cut him off. “No, let me speak. You saved my life in the Room of Requirement. You spoke on my behalf at my mother and mine’s trials. You returned my wand. And I haven’t even said thanks. Or I’m sorry, for that matter. Well, I am. Sorry, I mean. And thank you. For everything.”

Potter looked at him with his head tilted, a smile trying to pull at his lips. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay. As in, I don’t need your apologies or your gratitude. I did what I felt was right. And, for my part, I don’t hold anything against you. I actually tried to talk to you these past months.”

Draco felt himself blush and damned his pale skin. “I know and I’m sorry. That’s why—”

“We could talk over a pint of butterbeer, then, maybe?” Potter’s voice was steady, his smile now open and confident. Draco found himself agreeing without even realising it, almost forgetting about what he wanted to give Potter in the first place.

Until later that night, when Potter’s breath ghosted over Draco’s cheek as he tipsily leaned over him at the pub, to whisper something to him. Draco felt his cock harden in his pants, the proximity almost unbearable. He needed a distraction, anything.

“Ah!” He exclaimed, making Potter jump in his seat. “I w-wanted to give you something, so, right, erm.” He fished out the crumpled crane and gave it to him.

Potter regarded it for a second, then shifted his gaze to Draco’s face. “Um, thank you?”

“Yeah, well. Right. That’s the two-thousandth crane I’ve made.”

“Congratulations, Malfoy, I didn’t know you had a passion for origami,” Potter said, looking suddenly sober and serious again.

“I don’t. I just… well, that’s for you.”

Potter smiled at him and placed a wet kiss on Draco’s face, murmuring against his cheek, “Your skin’s so soft.”

Draco smiled, his heart doing somersaults in his chest.

He’d tell it one day. He’d tell the story of the jar and how Draco discovered he was in love with Harry Potter.

Of how it took him two thousand paper cranes before he realised and never looked back again.

#drarry #drarry squad #drarry fanfic #drarry ficlet #harry potter #Draco malfoy #mywriting #thanks to all of my followers #this is for you #I hope you like it!#Draco x harry #r: Teen #8th year #Hogwarts era #drarry is canon

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nompunhere · 2 years

Text

Alright, so I’ve been thinking about making a post like this for a while, because I have WAY too many fic ideas, but I can only write one at a time. Right now, I guess I’m working on Bug Bites 3, but I’m not sure what to do after that. So, I’d like your opinions!

I’m going to list out my outlines or otherwise mostly-planned out fics below the cut, and you can send an ask, reblog, or reply with what you’d like to see most. You may choose up to 3, to make things easier. There are.. a lot of these. Spoiler warnings for H/ollow K/night of course, but also B/ug F/ables, C/eleste a bit, and I guess S/tardew V/alley? Don’t get too excited, the vast majority of the ideas are still H/K.

(I’m also working on some art right now so you can look forward to that maybe sometime soon. It’s gay bugs again, because of course it is)

The Hunter noms Ghost. This was pretty much the first vore thought I ever had for Hollow Knight, and it mostly follows the plot of this post. Rather simple, methinks. The vore is safe, soft, willing, and basically G/t

The next installment of The Traveler and the Tiny Ghost AU. This has been on my to-do list for I think over a year now? Recently went back and added to the outline. In summary, Ghost and Quirrel go to the Archives and have a relatively Bad Time. Would be maybe 4 chapters long? The third chapter would be the vore chapter, but the rest would just be G/t. Wrote the first chapter last year--it’s pretty much just build-up, but the writing holds up to my current standards, so I don’t think I’ll have to edit it much. Safe, soft, semi-willing, and G/t, but angsty.

Was thinking of rewriting my first vore fic, A Nailsage’s Weakness. I think I already talked about that in another post, though

I’ve got two Voretober 2021 prompt ideas that I outlined but never wrote. The first is for prompt 11, Jungle. The Hunter noms Quirrel, who needs to exercise a bit of creativity to get out safely. They both come out of the situation unharmed, but that was almost not the case. Safe, soft (idk why I bother including that, they’re all soft vore), unwilling, and half-size

The other unwritten Voretober prompt was 31, Seek. The Nosk eats Ghost during the boss fight. It doesn’t go well. I guess this one is technically fatal? But in like a fantasy violence sort of way. They were both trying to kill each other anyway, and Ghost still has their respawn ability, so you know they’ll be fine. Not technically digestion, but Infection burns like acid, so it might as well be. Definitely unwilling, and near-G/t

Here’s a fun one: a series of 3 fics (so far) that elaborate on this thing, involving Oro, Tiso, and Quirrel (because ofc I have to involve everyone’s favorite bean man in got damb everything, don’t I). They’d be posted in reverse order (both timeline-wise and in order of when I wrote the outlines) because that’s what makes the most sense to me in terms of pacing and understanding the story. Tiso introduces Oro to his new boyfriend, but o snap! They already knew each other! and then the next two fics expand on what relationship Oro and Quirrel previously had, way back before Quirrel ever had to go out into the Wastes. They got up to some wacky shenanigans. No actual vore in the first fic, though it is heavily discussed in the latter half. Safe, willing, half-size vore in the other two fics, with the last fic also having G/t vore and a nice aftercare scene or two.

Hopy ship, non Hollow Knight content?? Starting with Bug Fables, because that’s what I’m most invested in currently: I only have one idea outlined so far, and it’s not the most obvious starting point in writing for a new fandom, but-- Doppel noms Kabbu. Basically, Kabbu can’t sleep at all and goes to spend time at the Underground Tavern. Alone. There are some strange bugs there that night, who dose him with shrinking potion, just for funsies. Doppel intercepts to protect the now-tiny hero from the other drunk patrons. Safe, unwilling, and G/t. Bit of a scary time.

Celeste! (Spoiler for Chapter 5) Also not an obvious starting point, but it was for Voretober 2021 prompt 9, Glitch. Madeline gets eaten by one of those eye monsters (they’re called Seekers, apparently) after a poorly (or perfectly?) timed jump. She wasn’t hurt, so she didn’t respawn, and now she’s stuck. Time to find a way out. Safe(?), unwilling, half-size. Kind of a shorter fic.

Stardew Valley, yayyy! The farmer accidentally eats Krobus. Listen, it’s not their fault their new roommate tastes like black licorice, or that they enjoy black licorice, or that their sleeping brain decided that it would really like to consume some black licorice. And Krobus didn’t know what was going on, so can you really blame him for going along with it? Safe, unaware/semi-willing, and half-size. A rather silly idea.

That’s all I have for fully-outlined fics, but I have some ideas in the idea doc that are thought out enough to almost be considered outlined themselves. Over this past year, I’ve started getting a lot more detailed when I jot down ideas, so there are quite a few of these too. (The last two (9 and 10) are quite angsty, so be mindful of the warnings)

Hegemol noms the Pale King. It’s the idea described at the end of this post. Safe, willing, G/t. Pretty simple.

Oro very reluctantly eats a bunch of Hivelings. It’s what I was referring to with this idea, just replace “pred” with Oro, replace “tinies” with bees, and replace “communal home” with the Hive. The bees give him a jar of honey as thanks, which actually gets used in a ficlet that’s going to be in Bug Bites 4. It’s quite silly, but there’d be a bit of an emeto warning for when he gets them out, beecause that’s.. a lot of bees. Takes place not too far before the start of the game.

Sly has each of his students nom him as a more advanced test of their meditation abilities. Easy to tell how calm someone is when you can hear their heartbeat and breathing so clearly. Mato does okay, Sheo does great, and Oro... doesn’t take it well. Emeto warning again, because Oro cannot catch a break apparently

Xero gets evicted from his apartment in the City and moves into Markoth. I mean with Markoth. ...But yeah, in Markoth. Hurt/comfort type fic. Long-term vore negotiations. Etc. Either G/t or doll-size vore. (Doll-size is underrated, I agree)

The Hunter eats Moss!Tiso. I had the idea like, a day after I made this post. The Hunter finds a weird ant passed out in a meadow and takes the opportunity to eat him, because why wouldn’t he? Tiso wakes up and freaks out, of course. Ghost eventually finds the Hunter relaxing after his meal, and manages to save their friend. ...The Hunter later eats Tiso again, because he didn’t promise not to eat the ant, he only said he wouldn’t kill him. Unwilling, half/quarter-size vore. I’m gonna say Unn gave Tiso a bit of acid resistance, so he’d still be fine by the time he gets out

Quirrelmon (this fusion/body-sharer) is bored, and wants to perform an “experiment.” Tiso is all too happy to participate. Their other friends are less happy with it, but get dragged in anyway. Tiso ends up with a tum full of shrunken friends, mildly regretting his life choices. Quirrel, Monomon (the two can still think separately), and Ghost seem content enough in there, much to the rest of the party’s annoyance. Safe and G/t, but with a number of prey, with varying levels of willingness

Either Ghost or Quirrel (or Quirrelmon?) finds a body-swapping spell, and they decide that Tiso and Oro could stand to get along better. Maybe walking a mile in the other’s shoes would help. Cue your standard bodyswap shenanigans when they wake up the next morning to find that someone magically messed with them in their sleep. Tiso eventually gets the bright idea of taking the opportunity to turn the tables on the bug who keeps eating him all the time. Oro is not happy. Safe, unwilling, half-size.

Bug Fables again! (Seriously, major spoiler warning) Leif accidentally eats.. the Wasp King? Takes place post-game, so after Hoaxe became a tree. Said tree grew a fruit, and something compels Leif to eat it. It gives him a bit of a stomachache. A few hours later, a tiny mimic fly wakes up in his belly and immediately starts questioning his surroundings. Well, this is awkward. Safe, G/t, and unaware/unwilling.

[Warning for.. not digestion, but something digestion-adjacent. Not fatal. Also warning for weird bug stuff] Sheo noms Greenpath Vessel, but it doesn’t go quite as expected. They’ve pupated before, so they’re bigger than when he first met them, but what he doesn’t know is that they’re about ready to pupate again. The thing is, GPV doesn’t really want to pupate again, because they fear they’ll be too big to fit in their favorite hideaway. So they go for one last nap in their caretaker’s belly, and pupation kicks in, since they’re resting nice and safe in their “chrysalis.” When Sheo wakes up, the little Leaflet is gone. He has a good long cry about it, until eventually, they show up again. In his head. :) ...Would probably be two chapters long.

[Not sexual at all of course, but strong warning for possible comparisons to non-con vibes. Also peer pressure. Willing-to-unwilling vore. Lesser warning for alcohol use, but not on the POV character’s part] Quirrel has a Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad first experience with vore. The young adult pillbug has been forcibly given a day off from work in the Archives to go have fun in the City, where a group of nobles on their way to the Pleasure House find him cute and invite him along. They’re very convincing. They’re also convincing in getting him to try out getting eaten. It’s very comfortable, you see, and perfectly safe! And you wouldn’t want to disappoint this strong, honorable Great Sentry, would you? He’s very hungry after a long day of work. Quirrel changes his mind halfway through, but it’s too late to back out by that point. It’s a long night. The Great Sentry wakes up the next morning with a hangover and the awkward responsibility of consoling the kid he ate while drunk.

Thanks for reading all that, lmao. Like I said, I have a lot of ideas. Responses would help greatly! I’m more motivated for some of these ideas than others (some of the written outlines have been lying around a while), so I might gather up a few options and pick the one I wanna write most.

Choose up to three! And you can use the numbers, but then specify if they’re from set one or set two, eheh, sorry about that;; You can use 1 through 19 to refer to them I suppose

—————————————-

DNI NSFW blogs, blogs that post exclusively hard and/or fatal vore, weight gain blogs, proshippers, TERFs, ace exclusionists, etc.

#talking about my WIPs #extensively #vore ideas #my writing #hk vore #bf vore #long post #hk spoilers #bf spoilers #fandom vore #there are two other fandoms but they only appear once so

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braveclementine · 8 days

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Chapter 9

Warnings: None, Readers under 18 can read this book. It is solely fluff- nothing sexual

𝕴 𝖜𝖗𝖔𝖙𝖊 𝖆 letter to dad the next morning:

Dear Dad, I was wondering with the Christmas holidays coming up, if you want me to come back home. I know full moon is December 21, but I would hate for you to be alone during the holidays. I won't come back if you would rather I stay here. Totally up to you, I don't mind either option. Also, I've been trying to find out who Nicholas Flamel is. I know I've heard the name before but I can't remember who he is. I know he is famous for something. . . a little help please! Oh yeah, Harry's the seeker for the Gryffindor team. They made an exception for him and he's really good. He probably got the ability from James. Anyways, his broom was acting up in mid-air during the game, like it was trying to buck him off. Both Professor Snape and Professor Quirrell looked like they were trying to jinx him, but I think one was muttering a counter-jinx or else I believe he wouldn't have stay on the broom as long as he did if both of them had been trying to curse him, right? Hermione, Ron, and Harry all think that Snape was trying to kill Harry. None of them saw Quirrell. I don't think it was Snape, because I think it's Quirrell. What do you think? Lots of love, Elizabeth

I stopped by the Great Hall and picked up some bacon in a napkin for Sadie, and made my way up to the Owlery. Fred Weasley joined me mid-way there, twirling a letter between two of his fingers.

"Sup Liz." He said, falling in stride with me.

"Hey Fred, where's George?" They were almost always together.

"Still sleeping. Lazy ass." Fred said, making an exaggerated face. "Why, did you want to see him rather than me?"

I laughed, feeling lighter than I had since the game yesterday. "No, you two are just never apart. Also, good game yesterday. I'm glad you and George were trying to save Harry too."

Fred nodded, distant for a moment. Then he came back to the present. "Wonder how his broom did that anyways." Then he smirked and said, "We're a bunch of heroes, aren't we?"

I rolled my eyes and punched him in the arm, not commenting on the possible why's or possible how's on Harry's broom.

We started climbing the steps to the owlery. Fred was making jokes and I laughed at all of them. In the owlery, he went over to another owl and sent off a letter, while I tied Dad's letter to Sadie's leg. I fed her a piece of bacon, letting her eat out of my hand. "Safe flight." I murmured softly and she flew out into the early dawn.

I turned to face Fred and noticed, at that moment, a large snowy owl sitting up in the rafters. Peering at her a little closer, I realized that it was the same snowy owl that I had seen in Diagon Alley. The one that I had wanted but felt I should leave for someone else to get. Hedwig, Harry's owl. I smiled, reaching up, and fed her my last piece of bacon. She hooted softly in thanks. Maybe she remembered me, maybe she just liked the bacon. Either way, I knew she had been meant for a good home. I was suddenly glad I hadn't bought her.

Fred and I walked back down and went out separate ways. I found myself wandering, since it was a free period, and I found myself back near the corridor with the Mirror of Erised. I hesitated, looking at the closed door, and then found myself walking towards it.

I said I would never come back here again, I thought, trying to make myself turn around. My feet continued towards the door and I opened it, slipped inside, and closed it again. I dropped my bag down by the door, turned, and froze

Professor Snape had been standing in front of the mirror. At my noisy entrance, he'd turned to face me, a guarded look on his face.

"S-sorry." I stuttered, reaching down to pick up my bag and leave. "I didn't know anyone would be in here."

"Come here." Professor Snape commanded in a soft voice. I didn't dare disobey.

I left my bag where it was and trailed over to where he was standing, apprehensive. He didn't look angry. He looked away from me and back in the mirror. His eyes were sad and full of longing.

"You see Lily Potter." I blurted out before I could stop myself. "With James and Harry. All of them alive."

Professor Snape looked at me quickly, angrily, and possibly a little frightened. "How did you know that?" He asked, sharply. He'd probably never told a single person what he saw in the mirror.

I hesitated. I decided on the truth. Dad had always said that the truth was the best option. "I see a lot of things, in my head, I mean." I started out hesitantly and then realized that I probably sounded crazy and tried to clarify. "Mostly things of the future, but sometimes random things of the past." I blushed red, adding, "I see a lot of things about you."

"Like what?" Snape asked, no longer looking at me, nor at the mirror.

I thought about it carefully. "Before Lily died, you used to see yourself getting married to her, at least in the Mirror." As I spoke it, I saw the vision again. The one where Lily had brown eyes. That was the thing though. . . mum didn't have brown eyes- she had green eyes. "Or. . ." I voiced aloud.

"Or what?" Snape asked.

"Or maybe it wasn't mum after all." I whispered under my breath. I had brown eyes. I looked like mum. But it wasn't possible. No one knew I existed, he couldn't possibly have seen me in the mirror. He had to have seen Lily.

"What did you say?" Snape asked, looking down. He didn't appear confused, but he didn't seem to have heard me anyways.

"Nothing." I said quickly. There was no way I was voicing that option aloud. After all, it had been a slightly hazy vision and I couldn't marry a Professor. It had to be mum. "But I know that you're trying to stop Quirrell from getting past the three-headed dog. That's how you got bitten on Halloween night. The dogs guarding the stone."

The stone? Of course, the Sorcerer's stone. That was what Nicholas Flamel was famous for. He had created the one and only Sorcerer's stone. Looking into the future quickly, I saw that Hermione would figure it out and tell Harry and Ron anyways.

"You shouldn't know about that." Snape said sharply. "Just like-" He cut off, turning away.

I shrugged though now I felt as though I was in trouble. "There's a lot of stuff I shouldn't know. I know what Dumbledore sees when he looks in the mirror, what Harry sees, that Quirrell was the one trying to curse Harry off his broom, that next year will be a dangerous year though I'm sure of the exact danger. I can't help it. I don't know why I have these visions." I hesitated again. "you're the only one I've told." Dad had told me not to tell anyone. I hadn't even told Hermione. Why was I spilling all my secrets to Professor Snape?

We stood in silence for a moment and then he moved over. Putting a hand on my shoulder he asked, "What do you see when you look into the mirror?"

I stood in front of the mirror, but it was different from the last time. Now, in addition to mum, dad, Lupin, Sirius, and Harry- there was also Professor Dumbledore, Professor Snape, Lavender Brown, a small boy with a camera, Uncle Moody, Fred, Cedric Diggory, another Professor- I think the one who taught Muggle studies- a woman with bright pink hair, and a small house-elf with green eyes. It was the strangest thing ever and I didn't know why they were there. I didn't even know half the people in the mirror.

I noticed that Professor Snape was closest to me, besides Lupin, and that our hands were just touching briefly, by our fingers. The mirror unsettled me. These were the most random people ever. I wasn't even friends with Lavender, what was she doing in here? Surely, not all of these people were people I wanted to know.

So I lied. "I see myself creating a cure for werewolves." I whispered softly. "I see myself curing my dad." Then I slipped out from under his hand and ran back towards the door, grabbing my bag.

He said nothing as I left the room, standing where I had stood, and looking into the eyes of my dead mum.

Or so I thought.

❤️

𝕯𝖆𝖉'𝖘 𝖑𝖊𝖙𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖈𝖆𝖒𝖊 back four days later.

Dear Elizabeth, I would love if you came back for the holidays. That is, if you don't mind me being gone on the 21st. Your grandfather is going to come over and visit with us from the 20th to New Years so you won't have to worry about being alone on the 21st. I don't know what to make of Harry's broom acting like that. It could've been either Professor though I'm inclined to say it most likely wasn't Severus. I can't believe that he would harm Lily's son, even with his hatred for James. I can't believe either Professor would have attempted that. Was Dumbledore in the crowd? It was a risky move, whichever Professor (if it was a Professor) did it. Nicholas Flamel is the famous alchemist who created the sorcerers' stone. That's the stone that creates base metals into gold and also the Elixir of life. I'd love to have that stone (mostly joking). Write back soon if you do plan on coming home for Christmas. All my love, Dad

Writing back, I said I would be coming home for Christmas, which made me start wondering about what to get Dad, Trang, Hermione, Ron, Fred, Hagrid and Harry for Christmas. I might as well throw George in there so there was no bias.

In the end, the gifts were quite simple. I got Fred and George fireworks from the joke shop in Hogsmeade. I also gave Fred an extra gift of Fizzing Wizzbees. I got Ron a box of sugar quills. I got Hagrid a book on Dragon care, a knowing smile on my face when I bought that one.

For Harry, I bought a large plastic container of sherbet levitation balls. For Hermione, I bought a bunch of children wizarding books for her. I decided I would wait until I was back home to buy Dad and Trang's gifts.

❤️

𝕺𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖊𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖉 to last day before break, I walked towards the Great Hall, and saw Hagrid carrying a large Christmas tree, still slightly snow-frosted. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were walking behind him. I ran to catch up, my bag banging against my hip.

"I hate them both. Malfoy and Snape." Harry was saying, scowling. Reaching into my visions I saw that moments before, Snape had taken house points from Gryffindor because of Malfoy. Past-event visions were much easier to twist and shape now that I had a rough hang on them.

"Come on, cheer up, it's nearly Christmas." Hagrid was saying, "Oh hello there Elizabeth."

"Hi Hagrid." I said, looking around.

The hall looked wonderful. Holly and mistletoe were plastered to the walls and hung from the ceiling. There were twelve large Christmas trees, so big I was surprised that even Hagrid had been able to carry them in. They were decorated with baubles, candles, holly, candy canes, and icicles. Magic and decorating truly went together.

"How many days you got left until yer holidays?" Hagrid asked, setting the last tree down in the corner.

"Just one." Hermione replied, "And that reminds me- Harry, Elizabeth, Ron, we've got half an hour before lunch, we should be in the library."

I discretely rolled my eyes while Ron said slowly, "Oh yeah, you're right."

"The library?" Hagrid asked, following us out of Great hall into the bustling corridor. "Just before the holidays? Bit keen, aren't yeh?"

If I'd been alone, I would've said yes. I used the Christmas, Easter, and Summer holidays as time to catch up on my Muggle school studies in addition to my magical studies. But I wasn't alone and I was still a little self-conscious about the fact that I was doing Muggle homework.

"Oh, we're not working." Harry said in a bright voice. I grinned, and then hid my smile, feeling just a little bad for Hagrid cause he probably felt terrible for spilling the name. "Ever since you mentioned Nicolas Flamel we've been trying to find out who he is."

"Yer what?" Hagrid sounded appalled and ashamed, and my sympathy increased tenfold. "Listen here- I've told yeh- drop it. It's nothin' to you what that dog's guardin'".

"We just want to know who Nicolas Flamel is, that's all." Hermione said innocently.

I know, I know, I could've told them. But I'd gotten good at this futuristic vision thing by now. They could figure it out on their own without me, and there was a specific timeline of when they needed to figure out certain things. I could tell them, just not at this exact moment. After Christmas break I could. Harry needed to try out the invisibility cloak first.

"Unless you'd like to tell us and save us the trouble?" Harry asked innocently. He was very good at the innocent look. "We must've been through hundreds of books already and we can't find him anywhere- just give us a hint- I know I've read his name somewhere."

"I'm sayin' nothin'" said Hagrid flatly.

"Just have to find out for ourselves then." Ron said. They left for the library, but I stayed behind with Hagrid, telling Hermione I'd catch up with them in a moment. Hagrid looked after them, disgruntled and anxious.

"Hagrid, it's going to be okay. They're not going to find anything until way after Christmas." I said. I shifted the books in my arms. I wanted to get out to the greenhouse before lunch and check up on my plant before leaving for the holidays. I needed a good grade on this project.

"You seem sure about that," Hagrid grunted, walking through the castle with me. I wrapped myself in my jacket and scarf as we exited the castle.

"I am." I said firmly, putting my books into my side bag. "You shouldn't worry about them, they-we- can handle ourselves."

Hagrid stroked his beard and was quiet for a moment, the only sound was our boots tramping on the freshly fallen snow. "Perhaps, but Harry has already had enough trouble, he doesn't need ter get mixed up in this."

"The stone will be safe whether or not Harry and them find out about it." I said, reassuring Hagrid.

Hagrid gave a start. "You know?"

"Hagrid, I know quite a bit." I said, exasperated, but felt my insides squirming guiltily. "I knew who Nicolas Flamel was a long time ago. I just haven't told them yet because now isn't the right time for them to know, if you get what I mean. There's a time for everything, and now isn't it."

Hagrid looked troubled when I left him. I felt relieved. Professor Sprout was the only other person in the greenhouse, checking out everyone else's plants. She beamed at me as I shrugged out of my robes, setting them on a hook near the entrance with my bookbag.

"Miss Kane! Come to check up on your plant, have you?" She asked, making another note on her clipboard.

I nodded, walking over to where my dandelions were growing. "I just hope they're doing well."

"It's one of the best plants in here." She said. "Along with Miss Grangers and Mr Longbottoms."

"Neville's doing well." I grinned.

She nodded. "It's his best subject, or so I'm told."

I checked out my plant, having to grab a step-stool to reach the counter. It did seem to be blossoming beautifully. I checked the drainage and the roots, feeling the soil with my bare finger. Everything seemed to be in perfect condition and there really was nothing else left for me to do to the plant.

"What are you going to be doing for Christmas?" Professor Sprout asked, stopping over a flower that was doing quite poorly and frowning at it, scribbling furiously on the clipboard. I wondered who's plant it was and hoped it was Dracos'.

"I'm going home to my dad's." I said, pulling off a stray, somewhat dead leaf from my plant. "It'll be just us for Christmas, although he mentioned that his dad may come over. I hope so, I haven't seen my grandfather in a couple of years."

She smiled, noting a dead leaf on someone's plant. She tsked, and wrote something down on her clipboard.

"Professor, is there anything else I can do to learn more?" I asked cautiously. I'd asked McGonagall and Snape for extra lessons of course but they'd both turned me down and I didn't want to be turned down by a third teacher.

She looked up at me, slightly amused, slightly confused. "You know you're doing much more than anyone else is doing. Not just in this class I've heard. Professor Flitwick says that you've been getting private lessons from him, and Professor McGonagall said that you asked the same of her. If anything, I'd concentrate on that Astronomy grade of yours from what I hear."

I sighed, disappointed. "Astronomy, Autonomy."

Professor Sprout looked only amused now. "Every magical class is just as important as the other."

I sighed again, knowing that the information was important whether or not I liked it. "I know. I just wish I could find it as interesting as my other classes." I hesitated and then asked, "There really isn't anything else I can do?"

Professor Sprout looked at me for a long moment, a rare, serious look on her face. Then, she handed me the clipboard she'd been using to grade the students. "Here, you can help me grade other students. . . as long as you're fair, of course. Perhaps you could be a PA."

I was pleased. Most students couldn't become Professor Assistants until fifth year.

❤️

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝖓𝖊𝖝𝖙 𝖉𝖆𝖞 I left with Hermione to board the Hogwarts Express. We sat in a compartment with Susan Bones and talked about what we were going to do over the holiday. Both of them voiced opinions on what I should get my Dad and Muggle girlfriend for Christmas.

When the Trolley witch came along, I realized that I could send Trang candy. Of course, I'd have to be careful to send her something that wasn't magical. Sugar quills that looked like real quills and she could suck on them all day in class. Of course, in America, they probably used ballpoint pens but still, she was a Brit.

Dad was waiting for me at the station, looking a bit ill. There were about a week or so left before the 21st so I wasn't all that surprised. He almost always looked ill, just in different degrees.

He hugged me tightly. "Ah, I've missed you a lot Elizabeth."

"Me too dad." I said, squeezing him tightly. I felt like I was ten again, just a kid, and not someone who seemed to have the fate of the world on her shoulders. Cause after all, if Quirrell got that stone. . . well who knew what would happen. . .but probably nothing good. I couldn't imagine him taking it for himself, he was to much of a coward. So he must be stealing it for someone more important than him, more powerful, someone who could protect him, right? I just hoped it wasn't Voldemort. . .

Dad decided on side-along apparition to get home quickly. I found it a bit nauseating, but was pleased to be home. Sadie was already here, waiting in my bedroom. I'd told her to stay at the house when she delivered my message to dad.

I spent the rest of the day cleaning up my bedroom. Having not lived in it for a few months, everything had collected dust.

The day after that, I got up early and wrote a note to dad telling him that I had gone to Diagon Alley to look for Christmas presents. I took the floo network and was in Diagon Alley in no time. I searched the shops, looking for anything that stood out for dad and even for Trang- sometimes there were innocent things that were fascinating, but also simple.

Finally, for dad, I found a handsome locket. It wasn't a girly necklace in the shape of a heart or anything like that. It was made of old bronze, but had lost value because of the tarnish- it wasn't goblin made. It was circular shaped and hollow on the inside, tines in place for pictures. It was as big as an American Half-dollar. I paid 37 Galleons and pocketed it.

I had no idea what to get Trang. Sending her just candy seemed to be a bit of a horrible thing to do. I wanted to give her something that she could keep. I went to Flourish and Blotts to see if they had any interesting books that didn't have moving pictures in it.

A majority of books did, but finally I decided to send her a copy of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. Considering even in the Muggle world, fantastic beasts were something of the known, though mystical. And the drawings in here were watercolor and they rarely moved. Hopefully, Trang didn't look to closely and if she did. . .well I was sure I could explain it. After all, technology advanced all the time, right?

I visited the broom shop, looking through brooms again. I hesitated at the Nimbus 2000. It was 300 Galleons, more money than I had ever spent in my life. I had the money, I had nearly 10,000 Galleons in my vault yet. . .

I turned away and walked out of the shop. I restated my deal in my head. If I made Hufflepuff Quidditch team next year, then I would buy the broom. Plus, by that time, the price would drop to 220 Galleons and save me money. (That wasn't a futuristic vision- that was just economical math).

Back home, I wrapped Trang's gifts and set them aside. I would send Sadie off with them later today. Or could I? Maybe I'd have to send them through Muggle packages. Could Sadie make a trip over the sea?

I got a moving photo of me from Dad's study, duplicated it, and transfigured it so that it would fit the circular shape of the locket. I fitted it in and stuck it with a permanent sticking charm on the back because I wasn't sure the tines would be strong enough to hold it. On the other side, I placed a lock of my hair. It was something signature in the Wizarding world. I put a thin wrap of plastic over it, using the sticking charm again. I closed the locket, placing it in an ornate box and wrapping it.

I felt my own locket bouncing against my chest and I pulled it out and opened it. Mum and dad smiled up at me, and baby Harry waved his small fist, looking up into mum's face. I smiled and stared at the pictures for a long time until I heard dad come in the room. I snapped it closed and stood up quickly. I shoved the wrapped box into the closet.

Grandfather came a day early and dad left the house the afternoon of the 20th for the forest.

❤️

𝕮𝖍𝖗𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖒𝖆𝖘 𝕯𝖆𝖞 𝖈𝖆𝖒𝖊 and I woke up early. I crept down the stairs so I didn't wake dad or grandfather.

There were more presents under the tree than I was used to, and there was also a large something with a blanket over it. Noises were coming from it- moving noises- and I was quite tempted to look under it. I refrained myself from looking in case it was a magical creature. I'd much rather have dad around if something went wrong.

I cooked breakfast instead- for the adults at least. I was quite content with eating only candy, cookies, and sweets today. I made cheesy scrambled eggs (because that was how Grandfather liked them) and then two separate sunny side up eggs for Dad (his favorite). Then there was bacon and sausage links. I put a pot of water on the stove to boil for tea.

Dad and grandfather woke up around nine. Well, actually, I got impatient and woke them up. Most of the presents were for me, though Dad did like his locket. (Or at least he said he did but he was a horrible liar, so I was quite content he was telling the truth). I didn't expect him to wear it either because it wasn't that great of a gift, but he slipped it around his neck when I wasn't looking and tucked it under his robes. Grandfather had gotten him new work robes and also some books, though I wasn't entirely sure what they were on.

Hermione had given me some of her favorite Muggle history books along with a couple of fiction ones too. She'd given me a new book called The Awakening: Volume I. It was about a girl named Elena Gilbert and two brothers Stefan and Damon Salvatore. It had vampires, witches, and werewolves in it and I couldn't wait to read it. Plus, looking at the characters on the cover. . . Damon was hot.

Ron and George had both gotten me Chocolate Frogs. Unfortunately, I didn't get any new cards to add to my collection. However, it did put my number of Helga Hufflepuff cards to an even 46.

From Hagrid, I got a carved statuette in the shape of a rabbit. It was standing on its hind legs, both ears pointed upwards. It was adorable and I was incredibly happy that Hagrid had taken the time to make it for me. I put it up on a partly empty shelf in my bedroom above my dresser.

Fred had sent me a box of sour gummies from Honey Dukes, along with a small woven bracelet with small bands on it that were meant for separate charms. It came with a broom charm. I put it on right away.

Trang had sent me a rather large box with a divider down the middle. On one side, she had sent me a bunch of books that she had found in America, including the same copy of the Vampire Diary book that Hermione had sent me. Luckily, that was the only duplicate. On the other side was a bunch of different American sweets that I had never heard before. Zotz, Mega Warheads, Tear Jerkers, Sour jacks, pop rocks, a container with a singular mega jawbreaker, DinoSour Eggs, and something called an astro pop. I could only assume that they weren't dangerous because they were Muggle candy.

Harry had also given me a book and also different patterned bookmarks, which I hadn't expected but rather liked. Most of them were Quidditch designed and all in Hufflepuff colors except for one which was in Gryffindor colors. The book was also on Quidditch.

I finally set those aside, leaving two presents from dad, and one present from grandfather. Neither of those included whatever was under the blanket.

The first thing from dad was a small box. Undoing the wrapping paper, I opened it and saw that it was a small bracelet. It was made of small linked chains, possibly of silver. There was a small moon charm on it and I grinned. My fingers fumbled with the clasp but I managed to get it on my wrist right next to Fred's bracelet.

"Thanks Dad." I said, grinning up at him.

He chuckled. "You haven't even opened the better present."

I reached under the tree and pulled out a longer package. I felt it in my hands and looked up at dad in shock. "A broomstick?"

He simply smiled.

I tore off the wrapping paper and there was the Nimbus 2000 that I had been looking at in the store only six days ago. "But-why- how- I mean- this" I stuttered over my words, trying to express my gratitude, while also expressing my worry over the money.

"I thought it was about time that you had a proper broom." Dad said. "I know you're worried about the money, but don't worry about it, okay?"

I jumped up, ran over, and hugged him tightly, unable to express my thanks in words properly.

"You will make the team next year, right?" Grandfather joked. "Would be a shame if you didn't make it."

I nodded multiple times, still speechless.

Grandfather's gift was a necklace. It had been grandmother's at one point and he wanted me to have it. Since I was already wearing everyone's jewelry, I slipped it on as well. It came to rest a couple of inches above my belly button, but it had been designed to be longer. There was a sapphire at the bottom of it and the chain was silver.

I pointed to the blanket apprehensively. "What's under there?"

Both Lupin and Lyall laughed. "Go ahead and take a look." Grandfather said with a grin.

I approached it slowly, unsure what sort of creature was going to leap up at me. There were multiple different magical creatures that could be kept as pets, but I already had Sadie. Oh, perhaps it was a crup puppy? Those were incredibly cute. Or a Kneazle kit?

I pulled the blanket off and it took me a moment to realize what I was seeing. I fell to my knees, opened the cage door, and pulled out the adorable little bunny that was sitting in it. I squealed with delight as I held it on my shoulder ,and it licked my ear, pushing its soft tiny nose against my cheek. I nearly fainted with happiness, joy, and enthusiasm. As it was, I squealed.

"Thank you Grandfather, thank you so much." I said. I ran back over to the couch and sat between them.

"Well you're very welcome sweetheart." He said, putting an arm around my shoulder.

"And thank you dad." I said, unable to stop smiling. "This has really been one of the best Christmas I've ever had." I beamed up at him.

The rest of the day went well. The bunny ran around as I cooked Christmas dinner which was ham, mashed potatoes, stuffing, green bean casserole, pickled beets, black olives, banana peppers, pumpkin pie, apple cider, and grape cider. Grandfather was impressed by how well I was doing in the kitchen, even though I was only eleven. I overheard them talking in the breakfast room.

"She's taught herself to cook ever since she was seven." Lupin said quietly. I obviously wasn't supposed overhear. "She would bring home cookbooks and look for ingredients, or ask me to take her to the store so she could get them and then she'd make it. I'm ashamed to admit that I thought she was going to burn the house down, at first, but she's really gotten excellent at it. She's the smartest girl I know. I actually got a complimentary letter from Professor Sprout saying she's one of her most dedicated students. I don't know what Elizabeth's doing up at Hogwarts, but I'd say she's excelling indeed."

Professor Sprout had actually done that? I wondered if Professor McGonagall had sent one to Hermione's parents. Then again, Professor McGonagall and Professor Sprout were very different. Professor Sprout had probably sent out several letters to student's parents.

At that moment, a vision came out of nowhere. Harry had gotten Dad's invisibility cloak. I dived deeper into the vision, in order to see what dad's cloak had looked like. Harry was trying it on in front of Ron. Everything but his head disappeared. I wished, at that moment, that I had something of dad's or mum's.

Then, I immediately felt ashamed of myself, and wrenched out of the vision. How could I think like that? After everything Lupin had done for me! After the incredibly expensive gift that he'd given me today. And he was willing to do everything for me. How could I be so ungrateful?

I carefully placed the wooden spoon that I was using to mix the mashed potatoes down on the counter. I quickly turned everything off on the stove and put lids over the food so the heat would stay in. I hurried past dad and grandfather so that I could get upstairs to the bathroom.

"Elizabeth?" Dad asked, concerned as I passed.

I didn't turn around and just said, "bathroom" as normally as possible. I raced up the stairs and hurried into the bathroom.

I stared at myself in the mirror as though the word selfish would be printed across my forehead in capital letters. I observed myself. I no longer wore my glasses, and I could now see the resemblance I had to mum. My brown hair had more red tints and my face was starting to shape like hers. The brown eyes were the only difference, the difference between the two of us looking nearly identical.

"I'm selfish." I whispered aloud. I sounded much younger than I wanted to. "I can't be selfish anymore." Never again, would I wish for anything. I would make the most out of everything. That stupid mirror!

There was a knock at the door. "Elizabeth?" Dad asked in concern. "Are you alright?"

I opened the door. "Yeah, I just had a vision." I said.

His brow creased in concern. "About what?"

I hesitated and then said, "Well I saw what Harry had gotten for Christmas. Dumbledore gave him James's old invisibility cloak. I had a momentary fleeting wish that I had something of mums' or James' and immediately felt horrible because you've already given me so much that I shouldn't be wishing for anything else. Especially the broom! I love the broom! How could I be so selfish and want more?"

Dad stared at me for a second and then, to my shock and slight horror, he burst out laughing. "Elizabeth, you're young! You're supposed to be selfish and want more than you have. It's natural. Especially those who grow up without a lot of money, it's natural to want something every once in a while."

I shook my head, feeling frustrated and slightly abashed. Was Dad saying it was alright to be selfish? "I don't want to be selfish. I really am satisfied with what I have. I swear, it was just a fleeting thought."

Dad laughed aloud again and that was the end of the conversation. I felt much better as I went downstairs to finish off dinner. If he was laughing, then there really wasn't anything to worry about.

It was dark and cold after dinner, but I still took the broomstick out with dad to a nearby clearing in the woods nearby that was empty and had good tree coverage. I took off on the broomstick, feeling the wind on the my face, stinging my eyes. It was freezing, but I was exhilarated. We didn't stay long though, and we headed back to the house for dessert and I played with the bunny rabbit.

He was a lion-lop (lionhead x English lop mix) rabbit with white and gray coloring. He had lots of baby fur around his face and on his butt, covering his tail. I called him Sushi which was an adorable name. Eventually, I thought, I'm going to get him a girl rabbit so they could mate and play. And I'll name her. . . well what color would she be? If she's brown it'll be cinnamon. If she's black she'll be. . . chocolate. No? What good food is black cause chocolates brown. . .Licorice? Coffee? Ink Pasta? Hmm. . . I just won't get a black rabbit. A white rabbit's easy though- Marshmallow, rice, cracker, or vanilla. Probably Rice. Rice and Sushi.'

Grandfather left for his home on New Year's Day and I spent quality time with Daddy and Sushi. Sadie came back with a letter from Trang, asking how I had managed to get such a wonderfully trained owl, and also thank you for the presents. I had forgotten to send the presents by Muggle post, but Trang's letter didn't seem to care much, only finding the situation amusing, and her host parents thought it was amazing and asked if all Brits did that for Christmas.

Dad and I talked about my visions and what we thought some of them might mean. I confessed that I knew Harry, Ron, and Hermione were going to go after the stone if Dumbledore left Hogwarts, and I knew that he would eventually, though I didn't know when. I also confessed that I was torn between going with them and telling an adult.

Dad didn't say much on it, only saying that James would've gone, and Lily would've told a teacher.

"Either way, you'll be doing as your parents would've done and I know that matters a lot to you." He said kindly but I wondered if he felt sad on a deeper level.

"What would you have done?" I asked. "Or really, what would you do?"

"Does my opinion matter that much to you?" He asked lightly. I climbed up off the floor where I was playing with Sushi and curled up next to him on the couch, resting my head on his shoulder. His arm went around my shoulder.

"Your opinion means the world to me." I whispered.

"Follow your heart, I think. I'm not entirely sure what I would do if I was in your position. I suppose I would've gone, I think, James definitely could've gotten me to go. But ultimately, the choice is up to you. If there's a bad outcome, you need to tell a teacher. Only you know how the situation is going to play out."

"Hagrid's going to get a dragon." I said, changing the subject. "That ought to be interesting, he'll want us to help raise it."

Dad shuddered with horror so we didn't talk about my visions any more after that. Then eventually it was time to go back to Hogwarts and I went, leaving my broomstick and Sushi behind. I brought nearly everything else with me except for a couple books that I couldn't fit into my trunk.

"I'll see you when school ends." Dad said, kissing my cheek good-bye. I returned the kiss. "But please, stay safe, and stay hidden in the crowds. I'd hate to think about any other alternatives where you're not safe."

I think that was his way of saying what he thought. He was telling me not to go on that adventure with Harry.

But would I listen when the time came?

⬅️➡️

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thewidowsghost · 3 years

Text

The Unknown Muggleborn - Chapter 10

3rd Person POV

Quirrell, however, must have been braver than Harry, Ron, and Hermione had thought. In the weeks that follow he did seem to be getting paler and thinner, but it didn't look as though he had cracked it.

Every time they pass the third-floor corridor, Harry and Ron would press their ears to the door to check that Fluffy is growling inside.

Whenever Harry passes Quirrell he gives him a small smile, and Ron started telling people off for his stutter.

Hermione and (Y/n) had more on their minds than the Sorcerer's Stone. Hermione had started drawing up study schedules and the two had been color-coding all their notes. Ron and Harry watch in amazement as (Y/n) launches into some complicated Potions thing at Hermione's request and the brunette begins jotting down notes.

Harry and wouldn't have minded, but Hermione kept nagging them to do the same.

"Hermione, the exams are ages away."

"Ten weeks," Hermione snaps.

"That's not ages," (Y/n) pipes up, "that's like a second to Nicholas Flamel."

"But we're not six hundred years old," Ron reminds her. "Anyway, what are you four studying for, you all ready know it all!"

"What are we studying for?" (Y/n) exclaims. "Are you crazy? You realize we need to pass these exams to get into our second year? They're very important, we should have started studying a month ago."

"I don't know what's gotten into me," Hermione chimes in.

Unfortunately, the teachers seem to be thinking along the same lines as Hermione and (Y/n). They pile so much homework on them that the Easter holidays weren't nearly as much fun as the Christmas ones. It is hard to relax with Hermione and (Y/n) next to you reciting the twelve uses of dragon's blood or practicing wand movements. Moaning and yawning, Harry and Ron spent most of their free time in the library with them, trying to get through all their extra work.

"I'll never remember this," Ron bursts out one afternoon, throwing down his quill and looking longingly out of the library windows. It is the first really fine day they'd had in months. The sky is a clear, forget-me-not blue, and there is a feeling in the air of summer coming.

Harry, who is looking up "Dittany" in One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, didn't look up until he hears Ron says, "Hagrid! What are you doing in the library?"

Hagrid shuffles into view, hiding something behind his back. He looks very out of place in his moleskin overcoat.

"Jus' lookin'," he says, in a shifty voice that gets their interest at once. "An'what're you lot up ter?" He looks suddenly suspicious. "Yer not still lookin' fer Nicolas Flamel, are yeh?"

"Oh, we found out who he is ages ago," says Ron impressively. "And we know what that dog's guarding, it's a Sorcerer's St —"

"Shhhh!" Hagrid looks around quickly to see if anyone is listening."Don' go shoutin' about it, what's the matter with yeh?"

"There are a few things we wanted to ask you, as a matter of fact," says Harry, "about what's guarding the Stone, apart from Fluffy -"

"Don't rope me into this," (Y/n) says, not looking up from her potions notes.

"SHHH!" says Hagrid again. "Listen - come an' see me later, I'm not promisin' I'll tell yeh anythin', mind, but don' go rabbitin' about it in here, studens aren' s'pposed ter know. They'll think I've told yeh-"

"See you later, then," says Harry.

Hagrid shuffles off.

"What was he hiding behind his back?" says Hermione thoughtfully.

"Do you think it had anything to do with the Stone?" Harry wonders.

"I'm going to see what section he was in," says Ron, who'd had enough of working. He comes back a minute later with a pile of books in his arms and slams them down on the table. "Dragons!" he whispers. "Hagrid was looking up stuff about dragons!Look at these: Dragon Species of Great Britain and Ireland; From Egg to Inferno, A Dragon Keeper's Guide."

"Hagrid's always wanted a dragon, he told me so the first time I ever met him."

"But it's against our laws," (Y/n) comments, still gazing down at her notes, Snape had told her that he was giving her a more advanced exam than everyone else's. "Dragon breeding was outlawed by the Warlocks' Convention of 1709."

"Everyone knows that," Ron agrees. "It's hard to stop Muggles from noticing us if we're keeping dragons in the back garden - anyway, you can't tame dragons, it's dangerous. You should see the burns Charlie's got of wild ones in Romania."

"But there aren't wild dragons in Britain?" asks Harry.

"Of course there are," says Ron. "Common Welsh Green and Hebridean Blacks. The Ministry of Magic has a job hushing them up, I can tell you. Our kind have to keep putting spells on Muggles have spotted them, to make them forget."

"So what on earth is Hagrid up to?" wonders Hermione wonders aloud.

. . .

When they knock on the gamekeeper's hut an hour later, they are surprised to see that ll the curtains are closed. Hagrid calls, "Who is it?" before he had let them in, and then shuts the door quickly behind them.

It is stifling hot inside, and (Y/n) rolls up the sleeves of her shirt and Fang jumps into her lap.

"So - yeh wanted to ask me something?"

"Yes," says Harry, seeing no point in beating around the bush. "We were -"

"Not me, just to be clear," (Y/n) interjects and Hagrid glances gratefully at her.

"Wondering," Harry continues, "if you could tell us what's guarding eh Sorcerer's Stone apart from Fluffy."

Hagrid frowns at him. "O' course I can't," he says. "Number one, I don' know meself. Number two, yeh know too much already, so I wouldn' tell yeh if I could. That Stone's here fer a good reason. It was almost stolen outta Gringotts — Is'ppose yeh've worked that out an' all? Beats me how yeh even know abou' Fluffy."

"Oh, come on, Hagrid, you might want to tell us," Hermione begins."But you do know, you know everything that goes on around here," she finishes in a warm, flattering voice. Hagrid's beard twitches and they can tell he is smiling."We only wondered who had done the guarding, really," Hermione continues. "We wondered who Dumbledore had trusted enough to help him, apart from you."

Hagrid's chest swells at the last words and Harry and Ron beam at Hermione, (Y/n) scratching Fang behind the ears.

"Well, I don' s'pose it could hurt ter tell yeh that . . . let's see . . . he borrowed Fluffy from me . . . then some o' the teachers did enchantments . . .Professor Sprout — Professor Flitwick — Professor McGonagall —" he ticks them off on his fingers, "Professor Quirrell — an' Dumbledore himself did somethin', o' course. Hang on, I've forgotten someone. Oh yeah, Professor Snape."

"Snape?" Harry asks.

"Yeah — yer not still on abou' that, are yeh? Look, Snape helped protect the Stone, he's not about ter steal it."

Harry knows Ron and Hermione are thinking the same as he is. If Snape had been in on protecting the Stone, it must have been easy to find out how the other teachers had guarded it. He probably knew everything — except, it seemed, Quirrell's spell and how to get past Fluffy.

"You're the only one who knows how to get past Fluffy, aren't you, Hagrid?" asks Harry anxiously. "And you wouldn't tell anyone, would you? Not even one of the teachers?"

"Not a soul knows except me an' Dumbledore," says Hagrid proudly.

"Well, that's something," Harry mutters to the others, (Y/n) rolling her eyes. "Hagrid, can we have a window open? I'm boiling."

"Can't, Harry, sorry," says Hagrid. (Y/n) notices him glance at the fire, and she looks at it, too.

"Hagrid — what's that?" But she already knows what is. In the very heart of the fire, underneath the kettle, is a huge, black egg. She nudges Fang off her and crouches in front of the fire.

"Ah," says Hagrid, fiddling nervously with his beard, "That's — er . . ."

"Where did you get it, Hagrid?" (Y/n) asks, studying the black egg.

"It must've cost you a fortune," Ron pipes up, crouching beside (Y/n).

"Won it," answers Hagrid. "Las' night. I was down in the village havin' a few drinks an' got into a game o' cards with a stranger. Think he was quite glad ter get rid of it, ter be honest."

"But what are you going to do with it when it's hatched?" wonders Hermione.

"Well, I've bin doin' some readin'," says Hagrid, pulling a large book from under his pillow. "Got this outta the library — Dragon Breeding for Pleasure and Profit — it's a bit outta date, o' course, but it's all in here. Keep the eggi n the fire, 'cause their mothers breathe on 'em, see, an' when it hatches, feed it on a bucket o' brandy mixed with chicken blood every half hour. An' see here — how ter recognize diff'rent eggs — what I got there's a Norwegian Ridgeback. They're rare, them."

Hagrid looks very pleased with himself, but Hermione doesn't look pleased at all. "Hagrid," she exclaims, "you live in a wooden house!" But Hagrid isn't listening. He is humming merrily as he stokes the fire.

. . .

So now they have something else to worry about: what might happen to Hagrid if anyone found out he's hiding an illegal dragon in his hut.

"Wonder what it's like to have a peaceful life," Ron sighs, as evening after evening they struggle through all the extra homework they were getting. Hermione had started making study schedules for Harry and Ron, too. And it was driving them nuts.

Then, one breakfast time, Hedwig brings Harry a note from Hagrid. He had written only two words: It's hatching.

Ron wanted to skip Herbology and go straight down to the hut, but Hermione wouldn't hear of it.

"Hermione, how many times in our lives are we going to see a dragon hatching?" Ron asks.

"We've got lessons, we'll get into trouble, and that's nothing to what Hagrid's going to be in when someone finds out what he's doing -"

"Shut up!" Harry whispers.

Malfoy was only a few feet away and he had stopped dead to listen. (Y/n) turns to give him a glare and the blond scampers off, reminding (Y/n) of a little ferret.

Ron and Hermione argue all the way to Herbology and in the end, she agrees to run down Hagrid's with the other five during morning break. When the bell sounds from the castle at the end of their lesson, the three of them drop their trowels at once and hurry through the grounds to the edge of the forest. Hagrid greet them, looking flushed and excited.

"It's nearly out," Hagrid ushers them inside.

The egg is lying on the table. There are deep cracks in it. Something is moving inside; a funny clicking noise was coming from it.

The five draw their chairs up to the table and watch with bated breath.

All at once there is a scraping noise and the egg splits open. The baby dragon flops onto the table. It isn't exactly pretty, Harry thinks. It's spiny wings are huge compared to it's skinny jet body, it has a long snout with wide nostrils, the stubs of horns and bulging, orange eyes.

It sneezes, a couple of sparks flying out of it's snout.

"Isn't he beautiful?" Hagrid murmurs. He reaches out a hand to stroke the dragon's head. It snaps at his fingers, showing pointed fangs. "Bless him, look, he knows his mummy!" exclaims Hagrid.

"Hagrid," says Hermione, "how fast do Norwegian Ridgebacks grow, exactly?"

Hagrid is about to answer when the color suddenly drained from his face - he leaps to his feet and runs to the window.

"What's the matter?" (Y/n) asks.

"Someone was lookin' through the gap in the curtains - it's a kid - he's runnin' back up ter the school."

(Y/n) bolts to the door and looks out. Even at a distance there is no mistaking him.

Malfoy had seen the dragon.

. . .

Something about the smile lurking on Malfoy's face during the last week made Harry, Ron, Hermione and (Y/n) very nervous. They spend most of their free time in Hagrid's darkened hut, trying to reason with him.

"Just let him go," Harry urges.

"I can't he'll die," Hagrid says. "He's too little."

They look at the dragon. It had grown three times in length in just a week, smoke furling out of its nostrils. Hagrid hadn't been doing his gamekeeping duties because the dragon was keeping him so busy. There are empty brandy bottles and chicken feathers all over the floor.

"I've decided to call him Norbert," says Hagrid, looking at the dragon with misty eyes. "He really knows me now, watch. Norbert! Norbert! Where's Mummy?"

"He's lost his marbles," Ron mutters in Harry's ear.

"Hagrid," says Hermione loudly, "give it two weeks and Norbert's going to be as long as your house. Malfoy could go to Dumbledore at any moment."

Hagrid bites his lip. "I — I know I can't keep him forever, but I can't jus' dump him, I can't."

Harry suddenly turns to Ron."Charlie," he says.

"You're losing it, too," said Ron. "I'm Ron, remember?"

"No — Charlie — your brother, Charlie. In Romania. Studying dragons. We could send Norbert to him. Charlie can take care of him and then put him back in the wild!"

"Brilliant!" exclaims Ron. "How about it, Hagrid?"

And in the end, Hagrid agrees that they could send an owl to Charlie to ask him.

The following week drags by. Wednesday night found Hermione, Harry, and (Y/n) sitting alone in the common room, long after everyone else had gone to bed. The clock on the wall had just chimed midnight when the portrait hole burst open. Ron appears out of nowhere as he pulled off Harry's Invisibility Cloak. He had been down at Hagrid's hut, helping him feed Norbert, who was now eating dead rats by the crate.

"It bit me!" he says, showing them his hand, which was wrapped in a bloody handkerchief. "I'm not going to be able to hold a quill for a week. I tell you, that dragon's the most horrible animal I've ever met, but the way Hagrid goes on about it, you'd think it was a fluffy little bunny rabbit. When it bit me he told me off for frightening it. And when I left, he was singing it a lullaby."

There is a tap on the dark window.

"It's Hedwig!" (Y/n) says, hurrying to let her in. "She'll have Charlie's answer!"

The six of them put their heads together to read the note.

Dear Ron,

How are you? Thanks for the letter — I'd be glad to take the Norwegian Ridgeback, but it won't be easy getting him here. I think the best thing will be to send him over with some friends of mine who are coming to visit me next week. Trouble is, they mustn't be seen carrying an illegal dragon.

Could you get the Ridgeback up the tallest tower at midnight on Saturday? They can meet you there and take him away while it's till dark.

Send me an answer as soon as possible.

Love, Charlie

They look at one another.

"We've got the Invisibility Cloak," says Harry. "It shouldn't be too difficult - I think the cloak's big enough to cover three of us and Norbert."

It was a mark of how bad the last week had been that the other five agree with him. Anything to get rid of Norbert - and Malfoy.

There was a hitch. By the next morning, Ron's bitten hand had swollen to twice its usual size. He didn't know whether it was safe to go to Madam Pomfrey - would she recognize a dragon bite? By the afternoon, though, he had no choice. The cut had turned a nasty shade of green. It looked as if Norbert's fangs were poisonous.

Harry, Hermione, and (Y/n) rush up to the hospital wing at the end of the day to find Ron in a terrible state in bed.

"It's not just my hand," he whispers, "although that feels like it's about to fall off. Malfoy told Madam Pomfrey he wanted to borrow one of my books so he could come and have a good laugh at me. He kept threatening to tell her what really bit me — I've told her it was a dog, but I don't think she believes me — I shouldn't have hit him at the Quidditch match, that's why he's doing this."

The other three try to calm Ron down.

"It'll all be over at midnight on Saturday," says Iliana gently, but this didn't soothe Ron at all. On the contrary, he sits bolt upright and broke into a sweat.

"Midnight on Saturday!" he says in a hoarse voice. "Oh no — oh no —I've just remembered — Charlie's letter was in that book Malfoy took, he's going to know we're getting rid of Norbert."

The others didn't get a chance to answer. Madam Pomfrey came over at that moment and made them leave, saying Ron needed sleep.

. . .

"It's too late to change the plan now," (Y/n) murmurs to the others. "We haven't got time to send Charlie another owl."

"This could be our only chance to get rid of Norbert," Harry adds. "We'll have to risk it, and we have got the Invisibility Cloak, Malfoy doesn't know about that."

They find Fang sitting outside with a bandaged tail when they go to tell Hagrid, who opens a window to talk to them.

(Y/n) crouches beside the large boarhound, scratching behind Fang's ears.

"I won't let you in," Hagrid puffs. "Norbert's at a tricky stage — nothin' I can't handle."

When they tell him about Charlie's letter, his eyes fill with tears, although that might have just been because Norbert had just bitten him on the leg.

"Aargh! It's all right, he only got my boot — jus' playin'— he's only a baby, after all."

The 'baby' bangs its tail on the wall, making the windows rattle. Harry, Hermione, and (Y/n) walk back to the castle, feeling as though Saturday couldn't come quickly enough.

. . .

They would have felt sorry for Hagrid when the time came to say good-bye to Norbert if they hadn't been so worried about what they had to do.

It was a very dark, cloudy night, and they were a bit late arriving at Hagrid's hut because they'd have to wait for Peeves to get out of their way in the entrance hall, where he'd been playing tennis against teh wall.

Hagrid had Norbert packed and ready in a large crate.

"He's got lots o' rats an' some brandy fer the journey," says Hagrid in a muffled voice. "An' I've packed his teddy bear in case he gets lonely."

From inside the crate comes ripping noises that sound to (Y/n) as though the teddy is having his head torn off.

"Bye-bye, Norbert!" Hagrid sobs, as Harry, (Y/n), and Hermione cover the crate with the Invisibility Cloak and step underneath it themselves."Mummy will never forget you!"

How they managed to get the crate back up to the castle, they never knew.Midnight ticks nearer as they heave Norbert up the marble staircase in the entrance hall and along the dark corridors. Up another staircase, then another— even one of Harry's shortcuts didn't make the work much easier.

"Nearly there!" Harry pants as they reach the corridor beneath the tallest tower.

Then a sudden movement ahead of them makes them almost drop the crate. Forgetting that they were already invisible, they shrink into the shadows, staring at the dark outlines of two people grappling with each other, ten feet away.

A lamp flares.

Professor McGonagall, in a tartan bathrobe and a hair net, has Malfoy by the ear. "Detention!" she shouts. "And twenty points from Slytherin! Wandering around in the middle of the night, how dare you —"

"You don't understand, Professor. Harry Potter and (Y/n) (L/n) are coming — they've got a dragon!"

"What utter rubbish! How dare you tell such lies! Come on - I shall see Professor Snape about you, Malfoy!"

The steep spiral staircase up to the top of the tower seems the easiest thing in the world after that. Not until they'd stepped out into the cold night air, did they throw off the Cloak, glad to be able do breathe properly again. Hermione does a sort of jig.

"Malfoy's got detention! I could sing!"

"Don't," (Y/n) smiles warmly at her sister. "You know that's my thing."

Chuckling about Malfoy, they wait, Norbert thrashing about in his crate. About ten minutes later, four broomsticks come swooping down out of the darkness.

Charlie's friends were a cheery lot. They show Harry, Hermione, and (Y/n) the harness they'd rigged up, so they could suspend Norbert between them. They all help buckle Norbert safely into it and then Harry, (Y/n), and Hermione shake hands with the others and thank them very much.

At last, Norbert was going . . . going . . . gone.

Harry and Hermione slip back down the spiral staircase and (Y/n) grabs the Invisibility Cloak. She darts down the stairs when she hears a noise coming from the end of the hall and throws the Cloak over Harry and Hermione.

As the figure steps out, Filch's have looms suddenly out of the darkness. "Well, well, well," he leers at (Y/n). "You are in trouble, aren't you.

Harry and Hermione watch in shock and horror as Filch grabs (Y/n)'s upper arm and begins dragging her down the corridor.

Word Count: 3574 words

#hermione granger x sister reader

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