#The Shadow of the Staff: A Wizard’s Revenge

[thedrarrylibrarian]

HELLO!

Sorry to bother you guys, but I was wondering if there are some fics where Harry and Draco are both professors, but they are dating

Bônus points if some students don't know

My patrons are never a bother! So glad you've come to visit the library, and just in time! Your holds have arrived!

Professors List 2

Drarry by @drarrily-we-row-along (1,138 words, rated T)

Harry closed the door and looked around the hallway. “They’re shipping us!” he hissed.

“Pardon?”

“The kids!” he exclaimed. “I overheard them. They’re smashing our names together!”

Is it true what the rumors say, Professor? by @drarrily-we-row-along (1,876 words, rated T)

Draco knows without a shadow of a doubt that hiring Harry Potter to be the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor midway through the school year is going to be an unmitigated disaster.

Still, when he sees the other man struggling with being a first-year teacher, he can't help but take pity on him and see how he can help.

Unspoken Affection by @janieohio (2,616 words, rated M)

Harry finds a stack of post-its, and what starts as simply leaving Draco a reminder with a bit of romance turns into a lifetime of memories.

The Decoy Date by @gallifrey1sburning (3,750 words, rated T)

Harry wants Draco to come with him to an upcoming charity gala. Draco can't figure out why Harry would want him, of all people, to be his fake date for the evening. Surely there must be better options?

Bubbles, Baths, and Bad Luck by @manixzen (5,004 words, rated E)

A poisonous potion covering Professor Potter nearly head-to-toe would normally be a pretty big deal. It should be as bad as his day gets. But that’s before he’s informed that the cure involves a steamy, hot bath with an unrequited crush.

The Ghosts of Hogwarts Past by @writcraft (30,071 words, rated E)

Draco has hardly had time to bask in his promotion to Head of Slytherin House when he gets news of Harry Potter’s return to Hogwarts. With his increased workload, the reappearance of the ex he never got over, the ghost that won’t let him sleep, and some curious coded diaries, it’s shaping up to be a hell of a year.

Water, Shadow, and Stone by Omi_ohmy (53,206 words, rated E)

Potions professor Draco notices DADA professor Potter’s increasing absences. He hates himself for caring, but where is he going? What is he doing?

Can't Afford to Fall by @p1013 (100,543 words, rated E)

Looking at Harry Potter, the Savior of the Wizarding World, curled in on himself on a classroom floor, Draco can't help but think of that scared sixteen-year-old version of himself. All he wanted was for someone to help, to save him from his own choices. And here he is, with Harry Potter pooled before him like blood on tile, needing the same.

Draco takes a hesitant step forward. He's on the edge of something, though he doesn't know what it is yet. But there's a choice before him, one he almost doesn't want to make.

Bolts by @lqtraintracks (114,500 words, rated E)

Harry joins the Hogwarts staff as the new History of Magic Professor, while Draco has already been teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts for the past year. When Samantha, a first year, is being bullied one day and throws a made-up Truth curse at her harasser, only to accidentally hit Harry instead, Harry becomes cursed to tell the truth, and not only that, he has to regularly tell it to Draco Malfoy. Samantha is clearly gifted, maybe the most powerful witch or wizard to ever come through Hogwarts, and yet she has no idea how to take the curse off. As they work to remove it—and also teach Samantha how to control a power that's becoming more dangerous by the day—will Harry's truths become too much to handle? And will whatever’s going on with Draco just make everything exponentially worse?

All Life is Yours to Miss by Saras_Girl (114,741 words, rated M)

Professor Malfoy's world is contained, controlled, and as solitary as he can make it, but when an act of petty revenge goes horribly awry, he and his trusty six-legged friend are thrown into Hogwarts life at the deep end and must learn to live, love and let go.

For those going back to school soon, I'm sending you support! I know many teachers have been working to get their classrooms set up for weeks. I know students have been buying supplies and textbooks and beginning to feel nervous. I wish everyone luck for the new school year!

❤️ As always, if you find a fic you enjoy, please remember to leave the author a kudos or a comment! ❤️

Lots of Love and Happy Reading!

#fic rec list #drarry fic rec list #rec list #drarry rec list #drarry fanfic rec list #drarry fanfiction #drarry professors #drarry #harry potter #the drarry librarian #draco malfoy #thedrarrylibrarian #harry/draco #draco/harry #harry x draco #lots of love and happy reading

[chs-miraculous-prompts]

Brazilian Miracle Box:

Before anything, read the rules.

Considering I am from Brazil, and I am legitimately worried about the Rio Special (I am not from Rio, but it’s still my country). My country has already been portrayed as just Soccer, Carnaval and coffee by other movies, so, I feel scared it will happen again.

So, I decided to create some Miraculous based on my country (since they are probably not going to be used at their fullest).

Just warning: Some of the miraculouses were inspired by Brazilian animals, others by some myths, and some random because I was getting out of ideas. Some powers make sense, and some are random.

 1-Blue Arara Miraculous

Concept: Restoration.

Kwami: Cieel.

Power: Heal and deactivate the power of any Miraculous.

Weapon: Wizard Staff.

Object: Glasses.

 2-Ant Miraculous

Concept: Union.

Kwami: Hill.

Power: Create Psychological connections to anyone.

Weapon: Gauntlets.

Object: Anklet.

 3-Boto Miraculous:

Concept: Manipulation.

Kwami: Ynno.

Power: Hypnosis.

Weapon: Trident.

Object: Choker.

 4-Serpent Miraculous:

Concept: Maturation.

Kwami: Boii.

Power: Growing in Size.

Weapon: Whipp. Object: The Buckle of a Belt.

 5-Crocodile Miraculous:

Concept: Revenge.

Kwami: Speel.

Power: Something similar to akumatization, except that, instead of something that enters an object, it sticks into the skin.

Weapon: Bow and Arrow.

Object: Nose Piercing.

 6-Salamander Miraculous:

Concept: Connection.

Kwami: Portt.

Power: Creating portals between dimensions that work similarly to doors. The user also has access to some powers thematic of each dimension.

Weapon: Keyblade.

Object: Key shaped pendant.

 7-Mule Miraculous:

Concept: Judgement.

Kwami: Flamm.

Power: Unmasking someone’s true identity.

Weapon: Hammer.

Object: Hair Clips.

 8-Wolf Miraculous:

Concept: Adaptation.

Kwami: Karaam.

Power: Copying other holder’s ability.

Weapon: Spear.

Object: Bracelet.

 9-Golden Lion Tamarin Miraculous:

Concept: Lumination.

Kwami: Golddi.

Power: Shadow and Light manipulation.

Weapon: Sword.

Object: Ring.

#miraculous #miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug prompts #miraculous prompts #miraculous rio special #miraculous rio #thomas astruc salt #writting salt #original miraculous #original kwami #brazilian miraculous #brazilian miraculouses #fan miraculous #fan miraculouses #prompt #au prompt #writting prompt #writting prompts

[wildjuniperjones]

↪ character aesthetics tag

For brevity's sake, I'm doing both main characters in the same one, Sere in bold, Leo in italics

Serefiné Najma al Nagari, or Sere Leocadio Darius Quinonez-Ortiz, or Leo

colors ;

red / orange / yellow / green / blue / purple / pink / brown / black / white / grey / silver / gold / bronze / metallic / matte / royal blue / forest green / blood red / navy blue / cream / mint green / neons / pastels / jewel tones

body ;

claws / long fingers / fangs / teeth / wings / tails / lips / bare feet / freckles / bruises / scars / scratches / wounds / burns / spikes / feathers / webs / fur / eyes / hands / heart / blood / sweat / tears / animalistic / thin / lithe / chubby / curvy / short / tall / average height / muscular / piercings / tattoos / body modifications

weapons ;

fists / sword / dagger / knives / spear / bow / crossbow / hammer / shield / poison / gun / axe / throwing weapons / whip / pepper spray / tasers / cannon / catapult / slingshot / explosives / nunchaku / mace / staff / shadows / wand / magic / magical item / non-magical powers / stone / teeth / nails / fear

materials ;

gold / silver / platinum / titanium / diamonds / pearls / rubies / sapphires / emeralds / amethyst / iron / rust / steel / pyrite / glass / wood / porcelain / paper / wool / fur / lace / leather / silk / velvet / denim / linen / cotton / charcoal / clay / stone / asphalt / brick / marble / dust / glitter / blood / dirt / mud / smoke / ash / shadow / rubber / synthetics

animals ;

lions / wolves / eagles / owls / bears / boars / falcons / hawks / swans / snakes / turtles / ducks / bugs / spiders / crickets / sparrows / whales / dolphins / fish / sharks / horses / cats / dogs / rabbits / mantises / crows / ravens / mice / rats / lizards / foxes / peacocks / livestock / werewolves / unicorns / pegasi / dragons / gryphons / deer

food & drink ;

sugar / salt / candy / bubblegum / wine / champagne / hard liquor / beer / coffee / tea / milk / spices / herbs / apples / oranges / lemons / cherries / strawberries / watermelons / berries / bread / vegetables / meats / fish / ambrosia / pies / cakes / desserts / vanilla / chocolate / honey / cream / caramel / nuts / cinnamon / hamburgers / burritos / pizza / french fries

hobbies ;

music / art / theater / gardening / woodworking / smithing / sculpting / painting / sketching / fighting / riding / reading / writing / composing / cooking / sewing / training / dancing / acting / singing / martial arts / self-defense / sports / technology / cameras / video games / movies / comics / cds / vinyls / cassettes / piano / strings / guitar / harmonica / harp / woodwinds / brass / percussion / gambling / chess / biking / climbing / running / exploring / hunting / caregiving

style ;

lingerie / leotard / cape / dress / tunic / vest / dress shirt / sweater / boots / heels / leggings / trousers / jeans / skirt / earrings / necklace / choker / bracelet / ring / pendant / hat / crown / circlet / helmet / scarf / brocade / cloaks / corsets / doublet / armor / bracers / belt / sash / fur coat / leather jacket / duster / trench coat / hood / gloves / socks / stockings / mask / cowl / bracers / wristwatch / pocket-watch / glasses / sunglasses / contacts / makeup / blindfold / eye-patch / uniform

misc ;

balloons / bubbles / cityscape / light / dark / candles / war / peace / greed / wealth / power / clocks / photographs / mirrors / pets / journals / madness / sanity / sadness / happiness / optimism / pessimism / nihilism / kindness / loneliness / family / friends / allies / followers / enemies / smoking / drugs / love / revenge / living / dead / undead / half dead / immortal / heartless

Consider this an open tag, but I'd love to hear from @worldstogetlostin, @the-likeable-wizard-mack, or @sevenpocketsofstarlight (if y'all haven't done this one already).

#tag game #blorbos #blorbo 1 #blorbo 2 #despite talking about plays a lot in this story #it's actually referring to movies #and audio/visual media in general #serials are specifically tv shows #but can be as long as our standard movies (2h runtime) #edited bc i forgot to tag anyone #in this fucking TAG GAME #bonds of trust shitposting

[readersmagnet]

Military veteran M.A. Haddad’s attempt to church out a story that readers will find entertaining and fun to read commence with “The Shadow of the Staff: A Wizard’s Revenge”.

The story features likable fantasy character with several charming moments of introspection.

Discover a captivating fantasy adventure story in M.A. Haddad’s “The Shadow of the Staff: A Wizard’s Revenge.” Purchase today on https://mahaddadnovels.com/book/

#M.A. Haddad #The Shadow of the Staff: A Wizard’s Revenge #fantasy adventure #fantasy novel #novel #book #books #books and libraries #readersmagnet #readers magnet #self-publishing

[gorogues]

Spoilers for this week’s episode of Stargirl!

So the Shade is acting kind of sinister at times (dare I say...shady), but it seems he has benign intentions.  He has been seeking the black diamond to obtain Eclipso, but it's probably to prevent him from getting loose because Shade knows how dangerous he is.  He acts pretty creepy around Barbara when he sneaks up behind her in the storage room to find the black diamond, but he never actually hurts her and is more benevolent in his later scenes.  He seems to want to protect the JSA kids from getting too involved with Eclipso, restrains but doesn't hurt them with his shadow creatures, and notes at the end that Eclipso will kill them.  The kids seem to amuse him and he's condescendingly smug around them, but that's pretty understandable for someone as old and powerful as he is.  All in all, I'd say he's very true to his comics self thus far.

Also, yikes at how powerful he is to shove the Thunderbolt back into his pen.  The only thing he has a problem with is grasping Stargirl's staff, but of course that thing shines with very bright light.

In the show's first episode we saw Dr Mid-Nite being dragged away by some kind of shadow creature, and when Beth learns about this she wants revenge for Chuck, but Shade tells her she doesn't know what she's talking about.  So, did the Shade kill Chuck, or was it someone else?  Or is Chuck not even really dead?  Maybe he's stuck in the shadow dimension, which would be oddly fitting for Dr Mid-Nite.  Beth would be thrilled if he came back, although maybe not really because she'd also feel obliged to let him retake his mantle...but he may not even want it anymore.  His return in some way would also be fitting because Eclipso either killed or did something horrible to Chuck's daughter in the past (possibly possessed her as a new host), so maybe he can help with the coming fight.

And Isaac Bowin makes another cameo in Courtney and Yolanda's summer school class, glancing back when he hears them whispering about the Shade.  Does he recognize that name, or did his mother keep him too protected from knowing about the ISA?

As an aside, I'm here for Shade's ongoing interest in tea, which is what I'm always drinking when I watch TV :>  That's an amazing silver tea service he's got at the Wizard's house, so I hope he went back for it later!

#the Shade #Eclipso #the Fiddler #Dr Mid Nite #Stargirl #Pat Dugan #spoilers: Stargirl #Stargirl TV series #reviews #screencaps

[katerina-q]

Your favorite and least favorite toa season?

Trollhunters is definitely the best, it’s the best characters, creatures and overall story.

My least favourite is Wizards because of its rushed story and exposition. The main time travel based plotline was rough to say the least. I'll say it again, Tales of Arcadia is not, and never will be, a time traveling story. I have no clue why they implemented the idea in the first place because it continued to falter in the new movie. Then, they totally side stepped tons of possible character development and hardly took the time to properly introduce the new characters outside of those with meaning to the story (especially that tech girl who was also a wizard and dated Douxie, who the hell was she? She appeared as a side character/store clerk in earlier stories but not as a whole character, let alone one we should care about). They also forced Steve to take Toby's place as "comedic support" when he, in all honesty, deserved more development than what he received. They touched on the subject of Jim's further development but mostly made him out to be a "captive princess" throughout the season despite his numerous attempts at saving the people he cared about and despite we all know that troll Jim is OP asf.

And the time-travel messed with Trollhunters, which was good as it was. Why touch it?

Am I to believe after the whole time-travel fiasco, going back and watching the original series, that Blinky and Aaarrrgggh wouldn’t have said or mentioned anything?

And wouldn’t Morgana have recognised Claire, her ‘handmaiden’? Oh yeah, how the hell does Claire be a better shadow mistress than Margana WITHOUT A STAFF and spending less than a year trying to do so?

And Douxie "defeated" Morgana in Wizards? seriously? In Trollhunters we can see how Morgana hated Merlin and wanted revenge, while she didn't care about Douxie. Why did they change it? Too many plot holes.

I know they copped out of it with the few sentences from Merlin about not being able to ‘fix’ time, but PLEASE, how stupid do you think we are? Imao

I don't dislike Wizards, but it's the weakest series of the whole show, sadly (movie excluded).

#trollhunters #tales of arcadia #toa wizards #douxie #jim lake jr #claire nuñez #toa merlin #toa #toby domzalski #toa morgana #3below

[five-rivers]

Goals

Hey!  @puns-are-great-and-so-is-danny!  Here is your gift fic!  It got a little out of hand, and it doesn’t have a super solid ending, but I hope you like it.  :)  

.

.

.

Dear Albus,

I hope this letter finds you well.  I know these are trying and troubling times, both here and in Britain, and part of me hesitates to ask this of you for exactly that reason. But, as ever, circumstances leave us with few viable options.

News of what happened to Amity Park this Spring has spread far and wide at this point, so I won’t waste your time repeating what you already know.  What is not common knowledge, however, is that after the dust settled, the Aurors assigned to the case encountered several irregularities, not the least of which was a disturbingly high number of completely untrained young witches and wizards.  

Once news of them gets out, I have no doubt the official line will be that they simply fell through the cracks, that, unfortunately, our spells for finding young magically-gifted persons are imperfect, that the nature of Amity Park obscured them from view.  This, I fear, is a lie.  

I have no proof, but I believe they were deliberately removed from MACUSA files on account of their heritage.  Albus, they are descended from Scourers.  

Perhaps that should be obvious, perhaps you had already guessed, considering the so-called reasoning behind the attack on Amity Park, the ideals those murderers professed, but I want to make myself and my own reasoning clear.  Though it shames me deeply to say it, those children will not be safe at Ilvermorny, nor, I believe, will they be at any other school on this continent.  For all the time that has passed, the Barebones Incident and its repercussions are too fresh in the minds of the people.  

There are seven of them.  Well, seven that are of concern to me.  The others have found or are seeking alternate arrangements.  They have been staying at the school, for the time being.  My colleagues and I have been attempting to give them a good grounding in magical basics. They would not come to you without foundations.

Albus, I am begging you, accept these students into Hogwarts.  I know this is a poor time.  I have heard rumors, horrible, horrible rumors, about what is happening in Britain, about what happened at Hogwarts last year, but I fear for these children’s future, for their spirits, should they be forced into a place where they will be hated simply because of who their ancestors were.  

I know that even in Hogwarts they would be unable to escape that, but it would be less.  Britain does not have the same history with Scourers that we do.  More, for some of them, they would not be forced to walk in the same halls as the kin of their parents’ murderers.

I will understand if you refuse, but I am relying on your compassion.  

Eagerly awaiting your reply,

Agilbert Fontaine

Headmaster of the Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

.

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore looked down at the letter from his old friend and colleague and sighed, his heart heavy. Agilbert was not a member of the Order of the Phoenix.  Albus knew more about the situation in Amity Park than Agilbert assumed and likely was aware of things that Agilbert himself was not.  

For example, while the bulk of the group that had devastated and decimated Amity Park were indeed Magical Separatists and those looking for generations-late revenge on Scourers, their core leadership included American Death Eaters.  

He was also aware of the children Agilbert had mentioned.  Most of the truly astonishing number of magically inclined children and adults in Amity Park had chosen to find private tutors, go through correspondence or summer courses, or attend one of several small schools in North America that had quickly shuffled to make accommodations for them, on the condition that they hide their origins.  

The seven mentioned…  Well.  They didn’t really have those options.  Either their names were too infamous, or they had no one to stay with while they puzzled through correspondence courses.  Or both.

And the names.  Even here, some of them were well known.

Albus could understand why Agilbert had asked for his help.

But was it responsible to drag these children here while Voldemort was lurking in the shadows, building up his power base once again? To offer them safety he could not give?

For those students already attending Hogwarts, it was one thing, they were already involved, simply by virtue of where they were born and where they lived.  But those seven, in America, they would be—

Well.  Not safe, perhaps, not with their parents killed and their home ravaged by hostile magic. But… farther away from the direct line of fire.  

But would they be?  Beyond simply spreading fear and hate, was there another reason for the attack on Amity Park?

Albus heaved another sigh.  

At times he enjoyed making decisions like this.  Enjoyed power, knowledge, experience, those things people tended to mistake for wisdom, even though he had made more mistakes than anyone else he knew, and all the privileges and responsibilities that came with it, all the control over other peoples’ lives.  This was a failing, a flaw, he knew, and time and time again it had come back to bite him.  Karmic vengeance for being an old man who kept too many secrets.  

But times like these…  In times like these, he despised the choices he was forced to make.  

“What troubles you, Albus?  I can hear you sighing from the other room.”

Albus did not flinch or startle at the ghost’s approach and gently chiding tone.  He looked up and smiled thinly at his former and present colleague.  It seemed Cuthbert was having a good day.  It was a pity so few students saw him at his best, and regarded his lessons as utterly boring, but Albus could never find the heart to replace him.  Nor, sadly, the budget.  Damn the board of directors.

In answer, Albus turned the letter to face him.  Cuthbert Binns was not a member of the Order, either, but he, like every other member of the Hogwarts staff, had been informed of what had transpired at the end of the Tri-Wizard Tournament.  He would understand Albus’s dilemma.  

“Amity Park?” murmured Cuthbert, tapping the second paragraph.  “That sounds… familiar.  That—” Cuthbert broke off.  

If Albus had not spent significant portions of his life surrounded by ghosts, he would not have caught the subtle change in Cuthbert’s silvery complexion.  

“Perhaps you heard about the tragedy that happened there recently.”  Which would be a first, even alive, Cuthbert had never really cared about anything that happened more recently than a hundred years ago, but not impossible.

“Tragedy?  No.” Cuthbert shook his head.  “Amity Park it’s—It is…”  He trailed off, looking down at the letter, disturbed.  “Albus, I have known you for many years.  You have been here for many years, with all us ghosts, and…  You know there are things the dead do not speak of to the living.”

Albus did know.  “Are you saying Amity Park is related to one of those things?”  Could this be another attempt on Voldemort’s part to defeat death? His suspicion regarding horcruxes was bad enough, what that could mean for Harry…  But if that man had yet another way to stave off death…

Cuthbert dithered, and Albus wished fiercely that he could trust him enough to tell him about the Order, about Voldemort’s plans, to impress upon him how important this was, how vital that Albus know.  

But he couldn’t.  It would just take one bad day, and one misplaced question from a student related to someone unfortunate, and everything would come tumbling down.  

No.  Albus could not push him.  

“I—I must go,” said Cuthbert, halfway through the wall. “I have to look into something. I’ll be back before you know it.”

He was not.

.

Albus had still not made a decision on Agilbert’s letter the next night.  He had consulted Minerva, Severus, and the other teachers who were also in the Order on the matter, and had distracted himself with other, arguably more important, matters.  

(The eyes on Number Four Privet Drive, the movements in and out of the Malfoy residence, the horribly dangerous games Severus was playing, the master schedule for the next school year, the still-empty Defense Against the Dark Arts post, extra protections on Hogwarts’ boundaries, how to keep the Order safe…)

But he shouldn’t put something like this off for much longer.

It would be much easier to deny Agilbert’s request.  As tragic as the seven students’ circumstances were, they weren’t his responsibility, and he had so many.  

Would you feel the same if the attackers had been Gellert’s people?

They’re children.  Like your students.  Like Adri—

Albus closed his eyes and forced the tiny and vicious voice away, out of his mind.

“Sir Nicholas wants to speak to you,” said one of the portraits.  

Surprised, Albus turned his head to face the image of his predecessor.  “Of course. Could you tell him he can come in?”

A few minutes later, the Gryffindor ghost floated through the wall.  “Hello, Albus,” he said, the outlines of his figure crisper than they usually were, and continued before Albus could greet him, “I am sorry to interrupt you like this, but is it true?  Seven students from Amity Park?”

“Cuthbert told you?”

“He told all of us,” said Sir Nicholas, shrugging in a way that made his head roll unsettlingly.  “You should accept them.”

Albus raised his eyebrows.  

“There is a certain element of risk involved,” the ghost’s voice was careful, “but if they come to Hogwarts, there is a possibility that you may gain a powerful ally, and that…”  Here, Sir Nicholas hesitated.  “Certain ancient wrongs might be righted.”

“I suppose it is that second the ghosts are interested in?” asked Albus, both curious and, despite himself, amused.  

Sir Nicholas gave him a gentle smile.  “Do not imagine that we are careless of your struggles, Albus, but many of us were long dead before you were born.  We care, but… sometimes the picture in front of our eyes is not the same as the one before yours.”

That was reasonable.  

However.

“Can you give me any more detail?” asked Albus, hopefully.

“I’m afraid not,” said the ghost, drifting backwards.

.

The next letter from Agilbert was much thicker and contained the records of seven new Hogwarts students.  

.

The wand turning in his fingers was made of pear wood.  Not that Danny could tell, just by looking, but the wandmaker, who had accompanied her wares to Ilvermorny, had been very talkative, even when Danny had… not.  

Pear wood, cut from a tree that had grown up through a chain-link fence on the wandmaker’s property.  She had meant to cut it out, she said, but by the time she had gotten around to doing so, there had been bowtruckles in it, and she wasn’t about to cut down a good wand wood tree.

Danny still wasn’t entirely sure what bowtruckles were to be honest.  

The wood of the wand was normal.  The core, apparently, was not.  It was hair from a magical creature, which most wand cores were, but the wandmaker had cheerfully admitted to having no idea what the hair was from. It had shown up in her workshop one day, in a little box, black and white, in neat little bundles.  

Danny had suspicions about where it had come from.  

Suspicions that had been exacerbated by the fact that both Sam and Tucker had been ‘chosen’ by wands with the same core.  

Anyway, Danny had liked the wandmaker, even if he thought she was a bit weird, for using components that just showed up out of nowhere in her work.  

(She reminded him a bit of Mom.)

Danny wasn’t sure why he was thinking of her.  It had been months since then.  But he was feeling lonely, even though his friends were just in the next room, and Jazz was here, and maybe she was the closest he would let his mind get to…

To…

“If you keep doing that,” said Jazz, “you’re going to put your eye out.”  

Danny glanced over at her.  There was an east-facing window behind her, and the sun was shining through her shoulder, lighting her up like stained glass.  

“If they catch you in color, they’re going to have questions.”

Jazz rolled her golden eyes, but the color drained out of her, leaving her ‘properly’ silver and gray.  “If they actually listened, instead of dismissing everything weird in Amity as untrained magic acting up, then they wouldn’t need to have questions.”

“Yeah, but they didn’t, and I don’t think they’re going to. So, considering what we have to do…”

“We need all our advantages.  You don’t have to tell me again,” said Jazz.  She pulled a face.  “Well, you did, actually, I guess.  I’m sorry about that.”

“It’s fine,” muttered Danny.  “You only died a couple months ago.  It takes time to recalibrate.”

“Mm,” said Jazz, sticking her head through the windowpanes and looking down.  She pulled back.  “Your escort’s coming up.”

“Oh?  Yeah?”

“Or at least someone.  It’s hard to tell who, what with the hats and all…”

It was time to go, then.  Danny gathered his things and joined the others in the common area.

.

Hours later, as the sun was setting, nine Americans stepped out of a fireplace in the Ministry of Magic.  Seven were students.  One was a very haggard chaperon.  The last was a ghost whom aurors and representatives from the Department of Spectral Affairs hadn’t quite been able to dissuade from haunting her brother.  

Such was life.  Such was death.  

“Alright, kids,” said the chaperon, chivying them towards a central area.  “We just have to go through customs, and then we can find a place to relax until the representatives from Hogwarts get here.”

“I thought we already went through customs,” protested Dash.

“Yeah,” said Paulina.  “The American side.  To make sure we weren’t smuggling anything out.  Now we have to go through the British side, to make sure we aren’t smuggling anything in.”

“Smuggling isn’t really the main issue,” said the chaperon, “but, yes.  MACUSA knows you aren’t in the states anymore, and we have to make sure the Ministry over here knows you are, so you can comply with their laws and such.  Oh, and so you can get the Trace, but that isn’t important.”

“The Trace?” asked Sam, doubling her word count for the day. Ever since the attack, she had been rather taciturn.  

“It’s how they keep track of underage magic over here,” explained the chaperon.  “MACUSA phased it out a few years ago.  It isn’t very reliable, and besides, recent studies show that magical persons of any age can use magic accidentally, and there’s no good way to tell if there is a magical adult nearby, so…”  She gave herself a little shake.  “But it’s the law here, and it doesn’t matter.  You’ll be at Hogwarts the whole time, anyway.”

“You mean they’ll be tracking us?” asked Danny, trying to keep the alarm from his voice.  That could be… problematic.  Considering what he was really here for, and all.  

“Not you in particular,” said the chaperon, snagging Tucker by the back of his shirt before he could make a detour to investigate a guarded cart of ominously sparking electronics.  She pulled him back.  “It’s my understanding that every child with the trace on them shows up as a dot on a map, and the dot changes color if magic is performed near them.  Some of the more sophisticated versions can determine what kind of magic, but, well… it isn’t like they ever know which dot belongs to which person, so unless you’re living with all no-maj family members—They call them muggles, here, I think—in a particular house, it is very difficult for them to determine who did what.  I’d tell you more, but this isn’t my area of expertise.  Perhaps the customs agents will know more?  You should ask when we go through…”

Danny began to tune her out.  He caught Sam’s eye, then Tucker’s, and they all nodded at each other a little bit.  Not that they had a plan or anything, but sometimes it helped to know that other people also found a situation to be sucky.  

Where would the Minister of Magic be in all this mess, anyway? Danny let his eyes rove over the hall. There was no guarantee that he was even here today, and Danny wasn’t to the point where he wanted to reveal himself. He had been given lots of instructions, but one of them had been to keep himself safe.  Clockwork had even said it was a priority.  

Best to stick to letters, for now.  Even if none of them had been answered, yet.

They reached the long, winding line that was customs, had their luggage gone through yet again.  Tucker lost another PDA, and Danny had to wonder how many more he had hidden.  The American side of customs had done a pretty good job of finding them.  Sam got taken aside for questioning, because some of her goth paraphernalia had a passing resemblance to ‘Dark’ objects.  Star had to explain her medications.  Valerie set off some sort of magical metal detector, and the customs agents started arguing about what had caused it.  No one had found out about her suit yet.

Meanwhile, Danny was sent to another table, to fill out forms for Jazz.  Again. Because, for reasons Danny didn’t fully understand, even with everything Clockwork and the other Ancients told him, wizards thought they could control and regulate what ghosts did and where they went.  

Danny did not particularly care for wizards, as a group. The paperwork—The stupid, pointless paperwork, because Jazz was going to do what she wanted and no one would stop her, he’d make sure of it—made him angry.  A lot of things made him angry, lately, when they didn’t just make him depressed or sullen.  

“Breathe, Danny,” said Jazz, leaning down, next to his ear. “The language in this is stupid, but I don’t mind being called names.  We both know they’re wrong, and what they think isn’t important anyway, yeah?”

“Yeah,” said Danny, forcing his muscles to relax.  He finished the paperwork.  

They passed through the last customs barrier together, and soon found themselves in a large atrium with a large, extremely gaudy, gold fountain in the center.  

Now, Danny had to admit, he had only the briefest of encounters with house elves and goblins, and none at all with centaurs, but he couldn’t imagine that the look of adoration on their faces was at all accurate. At least not for the species as a whole.

He tried to imagine the statue with a ghost in it, with a half-ghost in it, and he just—

Yeah.  No.

Wizards.  

Or, at least, these wizards.  Whatever.  

They found a bench off to one side, to wait for the Hogwarts representatives.  Danny had to wonder how they’d find them.  Would they hold signs?  Seemed probable.  Everything in the ‘wizarding world’ seemed to be stuck fifty years back in time, if not more.

Or, maybe, the chaperon knew who they were meeting and would wave at them.  Like she was doing now.  

Okay, so, Danny had to check himself to make sure he wasn’t coming up with random prejudices.  Ancients.  If his first encounter with the supernatural had been those people in cloaks showing up out of thin air and starting to kill people, he’d probably never be able to pull himself out of that mindset.  

Not all wizards were terrible.  Like the wandmaker.  She was okay.

He took the time to assess the two witches who had come to pick them up.  They were opposites of each other, at least in appearance.  One was tall, thin, and severe, almost sharp.  The other was short and round and sort of soft around the edges.  The only areas in which they demonstrated similarity were their age and apparent gender.

“Alright, kids.  This is Professor McGonagall,” she gestured to the taller woman, “and this is Professor Sprout.  They’re the heads of Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, respectively.  Minerva, Pomona, these are Dash Baxter, Daniel Fenton, Tucker Foley, Valerie Grey, Samantha Manson, Paulina Sanchez, and Star Thunder.”

“And Jazz,” said Danny, annoyed that his sister had, once again, been left out.

“Hey,” said Jazz.  “Nice to meet you.”

Professor McGonagall nodded.  “We will be taking you to Diagon Alley to pick up school supplies for the year before we go to Hogwarts.”

“Yeah,” said Star, eyes tracking a flock of apparently animate paper airplanes, “we know.”

McGonagall raised an eyebrow but otherwise didn’t comment. “Do you want to come with us, Cerise?”

“No, I have a few other things to do on this side of the Atlantic.  That’s why they sent me.  Have a good time in Diagon Alley, kids, it’s a historic place!”

.

Danny had to wonder about goblins.  Did they just… really like banks, or were they forbidden from holding jobs elsewhere?  Or effectively forbidden by prejudice?  Because, thus far, he had only seen goblins when changing currency.  ‘No-maj’ money to the denominations used by American wizards, and now from that to the infinitely more confusing British ‘galleons.’

It would probably be rude to ask.  

Maybe he could find a book…

But were these people self-aware enough to write about stuff like that?  He shook his head.  Prejudice, prejudice…  He barely knew anything about any of these people, he shouldn’t jump to conclusions prematurely.  

Not that he didn’t already know several unsavory things about their system of governance, thanks to the Ancients.  And their not-so-little terrorist problem.  And the fact that they thought erasing people’s memories with a spell that could cause long-term brain damage was A-Okay.

Yeah.  But that didn’t mean all of them were bad.  Just that their government sucked.  Which was true for almost all governments, so it didn’t mean anything.

McGonagall and Sprout were very efficient as they went through the shops, giving the impression that they had done this, or something like this, many times before.  They did not allow detours, despite the many, many distracting things on display on the street and in the windows.  Professor Sprout, however, kept up a running commentary on what things were, so it wasn’t too frustrating.  

About halfway through the shopping trip, they stopped at the place that sold uniforms.  Sprout stayed with them, while McGonagall left to go get other supplies.  It was an experience.  Other than his jumpsuit, Danny had never had any clothing fitted specifically for him before.  

The fitting made him… nervous.  

The tape measures and needles flew close to his skin.  The seamstress who had been assigned to him also kept touching him, which was part of her job, and it wasn’t invasive or anything, but still.  Also, there were a lot of other teens, and even some preteen kids, in the store, getting their uniforms, and they were all staring.

What they were staring at wasn’t the same from person to person, Paulina and Jazz seemed to be the biggest targets for whatever reason, but it was still staring.  The parents waiting with their kids were staring as well, and Danny started to fidget. Which meant that he got stabbed by the needle a few times.  Which wasn’t fun.  

But eventually that was over, and they were on their way to Hogwarts.  

.

Considering that Agilbert had tried to compress years’ worth of magical education into the space of a few months for these students, the results were remarkable.  True, with one notable exception, none of them were on a fifth-year level in Transfiguration, but Minerva didn’t feel the need to put them all in first-year or remedial classes, either.  

She could only hope they did as well in their assessments in other subjects.  They would have a hard enough time figuring out schedules for these seven, without having to account for them bouncing across year levels.  

She picked up the written assessment from the one student she would be accepting into fifth-year Transfiguration.  His penmanship was shaky, none of them had quite mastered writing with quills, and his grasp of the theory behind the spells was incomplete, but it was better than some.  She tried not to roll her eyes as she thought of Crabbe and Goyle.  

As a teacher, she should be above that.  Alas.  

Mr. Fenton did have some insights in his essay questions that were truly extraordinary for a person who didn’t even know magic existed at the beginning of the year.  Perhaps they had another Hermione on their hands, although he didn’t give off the same air as she did.  Or he had spent the summer focusing only on Transfiguration.  Or Mr. Fenton had a singular talent in Transfiguration. Regardless, gifted and motivated students were always a pleasure to teach.  

Minerva gathered her papers and left to meet Filius, who had tested the students before her.  She was tempted to go look in on them now and see how the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor was handling her first teaching experience but suppressed the urge.  She would see them, and, sadly, Delores Umbridge, at lunch in only an hour.

Which was why she was so surprised to find the children in a hall so far away from Delores’ room.  

Then she reminded herself that, appearances aside, these were not fifth-year students.  They had no experience navigating the castle.  

“Are you lost?” she asked.

The students exchanged glances.  “Uh, sort of?” said Miss Sanchez, twirling a curl of hair around her fingers.  “We weren’t sure if we should try to find Mr. Snape, or if we should go to the lunch hall.”

“Professor Snape,” corrected Minerva, mildly.  “Did you already finish Professor Umbridge’s assessment?”

“She didn’t give us an assessment,” said Miss Manson, angrily.  

Minerva’s eyebrows went up.  “Excuse me?”

“Yeah,” said Mr. Fenton.  “She basically said that she was doing the same curriculum for everyone, so she didn’t need to.  So, we were wondering if we should move on to, um, potions?  Potions.  Or if we should go to lunch, or just hang out, or what.”  

“Professor Snape is unlikely to be expecting you at this point,” said Minerva, feeling a headache growing behind her eyes.  What was Delores thinking?  The same curriculum for all years?  For eleven-year-olds and eighteen-year-olds?  There would be riots.  Or at least hexes.  “I can take you to the Great Hall.”

“Thanks, Ms. McGonagall,” said Mr. Foley.  And what was that he was hiding in his robes?  How many cursed muggle machines had he smuggled in?

Minerva sighed.  Honestly, it was probably harmless, though she possibly should speak to Charity about it.  “Professor McGonagall.”

“Sorry,” said Mr. Fenton.  “It’s just… hard to adjust.”  He rubbed the back of his neck.  

“I suppose it is,” she said.  “This way, children.”

.

Jazz floated through a wall, carefully avoiding the paintings.  Their inhabitants weren’t quite ghosts, from what she and Danny could tell, but they also weren’t not ghosts.  

It hadn’t taken her long last night to find the actual wizarding ghosts.  They’d been expecting her, in more ways than one.  But they had been weird.  Empty. They didn’t have any ectoplasm in them, and the intensity that was a part of every other ghost Jazz had ever met, Danny included, was absent.  

Clockwork and the Lady had warned them about that, before sending Danny, and by extension Jazz, Sam, and Tucker, off on his mission. Jazz just hadn’t quite believed it.  

Wizarding ghosts weren’t made of passion, need, want, duty, or even stubbornness.  They were made of fear.  Fear, by itself, didn’t hold ectoplasm well, especially not fear of death.  Wizarding ghosts might as well be mere imprints for all the power they had.

From the beginning, Jazz had been less than enthusiastic about pretending to be one of them.  Now, she was even less so.

It wasn’t their fault, though.  At least, it wasn’t entirely their fault.  None of the ghosts here were around back when the Ancients and the wizards of the day came together and put their names to the Tenebris Carta, and they were trying to make amends.  It sounded like they hoped the old treaty could be renegotiated, or that they hoped Danny and Jazz could get them an exception.  

Jazz didn’t hate them.  Didn’t dislike them or anything, and Danny would probably try to help them, so long as they didn’t turn evil or anything.  That was just the kind of person Danny was.  

She just needed more time to… adjust to them.  And the paintings.  Because wow.  

“Ah, Miss Fenton!”  

Jazz twisted herself over, mid-air.  “You can call me Jazz, if you want, Sir Nicholas.”

The silvery ghost smiled.  “If you insist.  We’re going down to the Great Hall, to introduce ourselves to your companions over lunch.  I was wondering if you would like to join us.”

“Sure,” said Jazz, descending to float by the other ghost. “But who do you mean by ‘we?’”

“All the castle ghosts,” said Sir Nicholas, “and possibly Peeves, though he won’t be invited.”

“Peeves?”

“The poltergeist.  He isn’t really a ghost.  At least…  he’s not a ghost like us.”

“Mhm,” said Jazz.  “Should I look forward to meeting him, or should I be very afraid?”

“Ah, neither, I suppose?  He tends to play pranks, but he never does anything terribly dangerous, and he couldn’t hurt you if he tried.”

“Well,” said Jazz, “as long as he doesn’t mess with my brother, we’ll probably get along just fine.”  She flexed her hands to disperse the pale green flames that had started to creep up her fingers.  “If he does, I’ll tear him apart.”

“Speaking of your brother, do you have any guesses as to which house he will be joining?”

“I wasn’t under the impression it was a choice,” said Jazz.

“It isn’t, exactly.  Students are sorted into the houses with, well, I don’t want to spoil the surprise, but houses are selected based on a student’s personality, aptitudes, and values.  Normally, if they came in as first-years, they would be sorted on the first, but given the circumstances, they’ll be sorted tonight.  I’m rather hoping to have a few new students for my house.”

Jazz grinned, detecting a note of competition.  “And what does your house look for?  Gryffindor, right?”

“Bravery,” said Sir Nicholas, proudly.  “Considering your brother’s accomplishments, I’m looking forward to seeing him join.”

“He is the bravest person I know,” said Jazz.  

.

Several dozen ghosts phasing through the walls didn’t just set off Danny’s fight-or-flight response.  Sam readied her wrist-lasers, while Tucker grabbed Danny’s wrist and started hunting for a place to hide Danny so his transformation wouldn’t be noticeable.  Dash and Star took cover under one of the tables.  Paulina pulled out her wand.  Valerie materialized a hand blaster.  

It wasn’t entirely clear what weapon went off first, but it didn’t really matter.  The end result was chaos.

“Oops,” said Jazz.  

.

“I am so, so, sorry,” said Jazz, hovering over Danny. Literally.  

“It’s fine,” said Danny.  “Really.”

“No, it isn’t.  I should have realized how everyone would react.  I should have told them to stop it, or something.”

“They were already on their way through the walls when you got there, weren’t you?” asked Tucker, swinging his legs back and forth as he sat on the end of the hospital bed.  

No one had been seriously injured, but a few tables had been exploded before the teachers had calmed everyone down and confiscated the ‘bizarre muggle weapons.’  On the other hand, everyone had a number of inconvenient scrapes and bruises that Madam Pomfrey insisted on taking a look at.

“Still,” said Jazz.  “I know all of you have PTSD from repeated ghost attacks and those people, I should have known what that would look like to you.”

“Er,” said Dash.  “It really is fine.”

“Yeah,” grunted Valerie, which was surprising.  

Outside of ‘Team Phantom,’ none of the others interacted with Jazz very much.  They didn’t seem to know how.  Valerie, however, outright avoided Jazz most of the time.  

Which, well.  Danny wasn’t about to call her behavior reasonable, but it was definitely in-character. This seemed like a good sign, though.

“Yes, dear,” agreed Madam Pomfrey.  “It isn’t your fault.  We adults should have said something before things got out of hand like that.”  She waved her wand back and forth over Star’s prominent black eye, and the bruise just… vanished.  Like Star had never been hurt.  

Danny inhaled slowly.  It wasn’t the first time he had seen magical healing—The aurors who had arrived a few hours after the attack on Amity Park had done a great deal—but if there was anything of magic that Danny wanted to learn, it was that.  And anything protective.  

“Is there a class for that?” he asked.  

“For what?”

“Healing.”

“Yes, it’s an elective,” said Madam Pomfrey.  “Though it does have a few required courses. Perhaps you will be able to take it next year?”

Danny swallowed down envy and nodded.  “Yeah, I guess we aren’t going to have time for electives, for the most part.”

“You may be surprised.  Now, I think you’re all set, unless you’re hiding something from me?”

The students shook their heads.  

“Good.  I believe Professor Snape is expecting you?”

.

“Did that seem… weirdly easy to you?” asked Sam.  

Danny thought about it for a second.  “Not the ‘what does this plant or animal part do’ questions,” he said, finally, “but the practical part of it?  Yeah.  It was just… cooking.  Really fiddly cooking, but still cooking.”

“Speaking of,” said Tucker, “how did you get by the parts where you had to use animal body parts.”

“Oh, I didn’t,” said Sam.  “I just skipped those.  I’m pretty sure I failed, judging by the look on Professor Snape’s face.  My end result was pretty nasty-looking.  It smelled bad, too.”

“You’re the reason we were stuck in an unventilated basement breathing in burnt hair fumes?” asked Paulina.

“Yeah.  I mean, it didn’t smell like burnt hair to me, but probably.”

Paulina sighed.  “I have to hand it to you, girl, you stand by your convictions.”

“I don’t think it’s unventilated,” said Star, contemplatively. “I wasn’t really paying attention, but there was definitely movement in all the, uh, vapors, or whatever. Professor Snape totally needs a better teacher face, though.  Like, does he just have the one expression, or what?”

“No, no,” said Sam.  “The look he gave me when I turned in my disaster was way more pronounced.”

“Still needs more than disdain and mega-disdain,” said Tucker. “Even Lancer had a wider range.”

“Come on, guys,” said Danny, “he can’t be much more than, what, thirty?  He has time to develop more emotions.”

“Yeah,” said Valerie, flatly.  “Give it a couple more years, and maybe he’ll nail down hyper-disdain.”

This surprised a snicker out of everyone.  Almost everyone.

“Uh, guys?” said Dash.  “I think I might have been the one who made it smell like burnt hair.  What was it supposed to smell like?”

“I’m so glad I don’t need to breathe,” said Jazz.  

“Oh my gosh, Jazz, that’s way too soon.”

.

“What do you think?” asked the hat.  

The hat.  

Danny could understand the paintings.  He could almost understand how the paintings worked, even.  They had the shapes of people who had once lived, their image, their likeness, and had by virtue of magic snagged a piece of their soul as they left this world.

But a hat.  Who would try to give a hat sentience?  And how?  Was the thing possessed by an extraordinarily unfortunate ghost?

“Um,” said Danny, shaking off the shock.  “I liked it!”

“Sorry,” said Star, “I’m just a little surprised.   Are you really a… a hat?”

“Yes, I am the Sorting Hat!  It is my job to divine which of our four houses each of you should belong to.  Weren’t you listening?”

“We were,” assured Star, “it’s just…”

“You’re a hat,” finished Tucker.  “Did you used to be a wizard or something?”

“Goodness, no, I was Godric Gryffindor’s hat!  He enchanted me.”

“So, are you like a computer program?” continued Tucker. “Are you an AI?”

“No Skynet,” muttered Sam.  

“Why do you guys keep thinking I’m going to make Skynet?”

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat.  The other teachers were all present, except for the headmaster and Professor Umbridge.  Their absences had not been explained.  

“When you hear your name,” said McGonagall, “please come up and put the Sorting Hat on.  It also usually helps if you sit down on the stool.  Once the hat has determined your house, take it off, and put it down for the next person to use.”

Alright.  That sounded easy enough.  Danny wasn’t quite sure why such a big production was being made of this.  A few comments from the teachers and the ghosts—not that Danny had talked to them very much, this was the first full day they’d been at the school—suggested there was some kind of rivalry between the houses, but it couldn’t be that bad.  It was school.  

Except Casper High had its nasty cliques, too, and he could just imagine how school-sanctioned cliques would work out. Especially if they were backed up by centuries of history and a magic personality test.  

Fun.  

Not.

He hoped he, Sam, and Tucker would all be in the same house. And that Dash wouldn’t revert to being a bully as soon as other students were added to the mix.  And that…  Oh, he hoped a lot of things, but he would be thankful if the ‘school’ part of this whole ordeal was as easy and drama-free as possible.

After all, he had other things to worry about.

“Baxter, Dash,” said McGonagall, evenly.  

“Good luck, man,” said Tucker, holding up his thumbs. Everyone mirrored him.  

Dash looked very strange, sitting on that small stool, but he wasn’t on it for more than a second before the hat shouted, “GRYFFINDOR!”

The hat was very loud.  Dash returned to the bench with a confused expression on his face.

“Fenton, Daniel.”

Danny stood up slowly.  He had expected something more like a conversation.  Was this a mind reading hat?  Was the ‘take a peek inside your head’ bit literal?  

Ugh, this was going to be a pain.  Good thing he had a lot of practice in compartmentalizing.  

“Ah, a burgeoning occlumens!” said the hat in its warm voice. “How unusual.”

“I have no idea what that means,” said Danny, mildly.  

“Oh, I’m sure your teachers will explain it to you.  I won’t take the pleasure from them.”  

The voice was, Danny decided, more than half in his head, which was…  Unsettling. Voices in his head usually either meant mind control, some jerk with telepathy, or someone trying to overshadow him. He didn’t like this.  He really didn’t like this.  

“No need to be so nervous,” said the hat.  “I keep everything strictly confidential.”

“Forgive me if I’m not reassured,” said Danny.  

“Hmf.  In any case, you have traits that would do you well in any of the houses.  Perhaps not Ravenclaw, though.  As clever as you are, you are behind academically.  You need a more nurturing environment, I imagine. As for the others… You are brave. You love your friends.  You’d do anything for them?”

“Yeah,” said Danny.  

“And there’s… something else you need to do?”

Danny was silent.  

“I can’t see it very clearly, but it is an important task?”

Danny shrugged.  

“A goal.”

“Sure.”

“I think, then, the choice is between the badger and the snake,” said the hat.  “But I believe the decisive phrase here is ‘do anything.’  Therefore, you will be SLYTHERIN!”

Wow.  Even bracing himself, that had been loud.

Danny stood up and carefully deposited the hat back on the stool.  He noticed on his way back to the bench that more than one teacher looked flabbergasted, and several spectating ghosts looked disappointed.  Almost crushed.  He resisted the urge to roll his eyes.  Yes, he was a celebrity among the undead, no he couldn’t be in two houses at once. They should have prepared themselves.

Not to mention that, as important as education was, it was somewhat secondary to his true goals here.  Which the ghosts partially knew about.  

“Foley, Tucker.”

.

“I can’t believe it,” said Filius later that evening when all the teachers (sans Umbridge) gathered for a drink.  

“I did say you would find the results surprising,” said Sybill, smugly.  

“Two muggle-born American transfer students in Slytherin,” said Filius, wonderingly.  “I didn’t expect to get any of them for Ravenclaw, but Slytherin?”

“I would appreciate it if you didn’t denigrate my house, Filius,” said Severus.  

The diminutive teacher waved his hand.  “Oh, that’s not my intention.  But you have to admit, it seems like a strange choice.”

“They aren’t really muggle-born, though, are they?” asked Wilhelmina Grubbly-Plank, opting for tea instead of wine.  “I’m not sure about the Sanchezes, but the Fentons were quite prominent, back in the day, weren’t they?  At least, one of their ancestors wrote the first English book on new world magical creatures.”

“Muggle-borns and half-bloods are chosen for Slytherin all the time,” said Severus, annoyance clearly increasing.  “Not, perhaps, as often as for the other houses, but it does happen regularly.  You don’t have to be so shocked.”

“It’s nothing against Slytherin,” assured Pomona.  “We were just expecting them to get split between Hufflepuff and Gryffindor.  American stereotypes in play, I suppose.”

“Mm,” said Septima, who was doodling equations on the back of her wrist.  “On my end, my thought process was more that they wouldn’t do well trying to play catchup in Ravenclaw, and they wouldn’t have the ambition and drive to hold their own in Slytherin.  The Sorting Hat disagreed.”

“Evidently,” said Severus.  He didn’t look especially pleased, but then he never did.  

“Better you than me,” said Filius, after a few minutes.  “I can’t imagine it will be easy integrating them.”

Minerva, who had three of the students, laughed, “You aren’t getting out of it that easy, Filius.  They still have charms.  How did they do, by the way?  We never really got around to discussing it.”

“None of them were brilliant,” said Filius.  “But they have promise.  I was wondering what you all thought about doing an accelerated class for some of them, to get them to a higher year-level.”

.

Being on the Hogwarts Express without Ron at his side felt wrong.  Sure, he wasn’t entirely alone, Ginny was with him, and Hegwig, but it felt different. He felt exposed.  

Although, that might have had something to do with all the people staring and pointing at him.  

The Daily Prophet had spent most of the summer convincing everyone he was a lying show-off.  The only things that had really competed with the ‘Harry Potter is delusional’ articles were the ‘haha, America is going to hell in a handbasket, aren’t we glad we aren’t them?’ articles.  

(Harry wouldn’t have even cast a glance at the second, except that he and the others had overheard some of the Order members mention Death Eaters had been behind the attack on the muggle town.  Even so, reading them made him feel grimy.)

They had to go all the way to the end of the train to get away from the unfriendly eyes, and that’s where they found Neville.  

“Hi, Harry,” he said, out of breath.  “Hi, Ginny…  Everywhere’s full… I can’t find a seat…”

Ginny squeezed past him to look at the compartments behind him.  “What are you talking about?  There’s room in this one, there’s only Loony Lovegood in here—”

“I don’t want to disturb her—”

“Don’t be silly, she’s alright.”  She slid the door open and pulled her trunk in.  “Hi, Luna.  Is it okay if we take these seats?”

It took a couple minutes to get situated in the compartment, during which time Harry tried not to stare at Luna Lovegood very much.  The blonde girl was surrounded by an aura of almost impenetrable oddness.  

“Have a good summer, Luna?” asked Ginny.  

Luna opened her mouth to answer, then closed it, frowning. “No, actually.  My father had some friends in Amity Park.  The town in America, you know.”  She turned her head slightly.  “You’re Harry Potter.”

“I know I am,” said Harry.  

The four of them then proceeded to have a fairly enjoyable conversation, right up until Neville’s mimbulus mimbletonia sprayed them all with rancid sap and Cho Chang opened the compartment door.  

Cho Chang who he had a crush on.

Yeah.

Harry had a strong desire to curl up and die.  

Ron and Hermione did not turn up for over an hour, by which time the food trolley had come and gone, and most of the bounty acquired from it had been eaten.  

“Oh, you have food.  Brilliant,” said Ron, taking a Chocolate frog from Harry and throwing himself into the seat next to him.  “You won’t believe what happened.”

“Malfoy’s Slytherin prefect?” asked Harry.  The fear had been buzzing in the back of his head ever since Ron and Hermione had gotten their badges.  

“Well, yeah,” said Ron.  

“And that complete cow Pansy Parkinson,” said Hermione.  

“But that’s not the real surprise,” said Ron, oddly dismissive. “You remember all those articles in the Prophet?  Not the ones about you.  About that town, in America?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, some of kids who survived were wizards.”

“And witches,” added Hermione.  She pulled Crookshanks into her lap.  

“Well, apparently their ministry didn’t think they’d be safe over there, so they sent them here.  Seven of ‘em.”

“What?  They think it’s safe here?” In Hogwarts, maybe it was, except Harry had been snatched away even with all eyes on him, in the middle of a heavily attended competition.  “With Voldemort on the loose?”

Everyone flinched.  

“Well, that isn’t exactly being publicized,” said Hermione. “Not—Not in the right way.  Besides, none of them knew about magic before this summer.  They’re all our age, though.  It must have been a shock.  Especially after losing their families like that.”  She shuddered.  “We’ve been asked to help them acclimate.  That’s why the meeting ran so long.”  

“Are they in Gryffindor, then?” asked Luna.  

“They’re sort of spread out,” said Hermione.  “They’re in all the houses but Ravenclaw.”

“And I’m still not sure how they got put into Slytherin if they’re muggleborn,” said Ron, who had tilted his head back to stare at the ceiling.  “It doesn’t make sense,” he complained.

“Merlin was muggleborn,” said Luna.  “He was a Slytherin.  I’m sure there were others.”

Ron pulled a face.  

(Harry thought about Voldemort—About Tom Riddle and his muggle father.)

“Anyway,” said Hermione.  “We have three of them.  Hufflepuff and Slytherin each have two.”

First Death Eaters in America, and now Slytherins from there?  Harry shook himself internally.  No, it probably didn’t mean anything.  

“We probably won’t see much of them,” said Ron.  “They’re taking mostly remedial classes.  First and second year stuff.”

“Say,” said Luna, “do you know who the prefects are for the other houses?”

“Anthony Goldstein and Padma Patil for Ravenclaw,” said Hermione.  

“And Ernie Macmillian and Hannah Abbot for Hufflepuff,” added Ron.  “You know, other than helping keep track of the younger kids and patrolling corridors every so often, there’s not really much we’re supposed to do as prefects.  From how Percy talked about it, I always sort of thought there’d be more.”  Then he grinned.  “We can give punishments out if people are misbehaving.  I can’t wait to get Crabbe and Goyle for something…”

Predictably, this set off Hermione.

.

“There’s nothing else about the Americans?” asked Draco, frowning. “I’m not sure how we’re expected to ‘help them acclimate’ with so little information.”

The Head Girl rolled her eyes.  “You’re expected to talk to them,” she said.  “Considering that they’re real human beings and all. They’ve been through a lot, apparently, and I can appreciate them not wanting to have it spread around.”

Unspoken was the ‘do you?’ at the end of her sentence.  Draco let his lip curl.  People from other houses were always so eager to think the worst of Slytherin when all they were trying to be was logical.  

“I’ll do that, then,” said Draco, stepping out of the prefects’ carriage.  He needed to find Crabbe and Goyle.  Annoying. As much as he was their leader, and he watched them, they were also there to watch him and—

(Draco chose not to think of the people who had arrived at Malfoy Manor over the Summer, of the things he’d seen.)

(When he was quite young, he’d read a book about muggle Germany during the time of Grindelwald, and how Grindelwald had subtly influenced things in that country.  He’d always been struck by the use of informants, of how everyone had been convinced to watch one another and report those who stepped out of line.  He found he could appreciate it even more now that he was inside a similar trap.)

But the Americans.  It was so odd.  They couldn’t have any lineage to speak of.  Not if they were living like muggles in some backwater town.  

… some backwater town the Dark Lord had seen fit to destroy.

… ‘Fenton’ sounded vaguely familiar.  

… Perhaps ‘Sanchez’ was from a Spanish pureblood line.

Draco would have to do research.  He was good at that.  But whatever he found, he’d have to keep an eye on the Americans.  

If nothing else, it would be good to have friends overseas.

.

“We’ll be in different dorms after this,” said Danny, vaguely depressed.  “Different classes, too, most of the time.”

“We can still see each other during the day,” said Sam.  “I think the only meal that’s segregated by house is dinner, anyway.  We should be able to hang out at all the other times.”

Danny sighed.  He had yet to have much success in his missions.  

He’d felt something wrong on the seventh floor, but he hadn’t been able to pinpoint it.  He’d found a giant inaccessible dungeon full of snake statues, a snake skeleton, and a number of other somewhat questionable things underneath the school. There had been an echo of something there, but whatever it was had been long gone by the time Danny got there. He also had the faint sense of a ghost—a real ghost—beginning to form there, and he hoped he hadn’t messed it up by spreading his ectoplasm around.  

On the second front, he hadn’t heard anything from any of the leaders of the wizarding world.  Unless he counted a reply from a secretary who thought he was disturbed.  

But there was one bright spot.  They’d met the Headmaster yesterday, and Danny was certain the man’s wand was one of the two subjects of his third quest.  Which was hilarious.  Out of everything, he’d thought the Hallows would be the hardest to find.  

Not that he could just take it.  Not now.  Not yet. Not with everything else still so uncertain and Clockwork’s quiet assurance that he would find most of what he needed to at Hogwarts.  

(Clockwork and the Lady had made a deal with him, bound in old magic and ghost law.  Three tasks. Three nearly impossible quests, but at the end of them, the one who had destroyed half of his world, who had harmed his people, would be gone, and in the meantime Amity Park would be protected. Danny knew he had gotten the better half of the deal, with Clockwork practically on his side.  Even with the… other requirements.  Still, he couldn’t help but feel discouraged.)

So, he’d stay, and wait, and keep a careful eye on the Headmaster, and try to find the thing on the seventh floor, and figure out what spells worked on ghosts and if he could circumvent them, and figure out how to intercept at least one magical head of state, and, and, and…

Ugh.  

“If we aren’t too busy,” said Danny.  

“You know we’re here to help,” said Tucker, prodding Danny’s side.  “And even if the rest of them don’t know about, you know, I think they’d be willing to help, too.”

“Within reason,” said Sam.  

It was true.  Surviving near-death experiences together tended to make people—well.  Not necessarily friends, but something more than mere acquaintances.  Allies, at the very least.

(Especially if a lot of other people had died at the same time, and the survivors were holding on to the relationships they still had with all their strength.)

“I know,” said Danny.  He bit his lip.  “There’s something on the seventh floor, I think.  Need more time to figure out what, though.”

“We’ll keep an eye out,” promised Sam.  

“And an ear, too,” said Tucker, tapping his.  “I’m sure there’ll be lots of rumors and legends in a place like this.”

“Me too.  Jazz has been interrogating the paintings, you know.”  He frowned.  “They’re so weird.”

“Everything about this is weird,” said Sam.  “Can’t believe we thought ghosts were the whole extent of the supernatural.  It seems so dumb, now.”

“Not really,” said Danny.  “I mean, ghosts were all that we saw, and they didn’t really mention anything else.”  He sighed. “Guess we should get ready for the feast or whatever?”

“Yeah,” said Sam, standing.  “Good luck meeting your classmates.  Housemates?  How are we even supposed to say that?”

“I don’t know,” said Danny.  He sighed.  “At least we each have at least one person from Casper with us.”

“That’s true,” said Tucker.  “Can’t say I feel like I have much in common with Star, though. Other than,” he gestured, vaguely, “all the Amity Park stuff.”

Sam raised an eyebrow.  “And you think I have a lot in common with Dash?”

“You have a lot in common with Valerie,” offered Tucker.

Sam shrugged.  “We do both fight ghosts.”

Tucker’s grin turned slightly wicked.  “And have a crush on the same guy.”

“Take a walk off a

Danny let himself smile.  It had been a while since the three of them had gotten some good banter in. It was hard to verbally spar when you were depressed.  

.

Sitting next to Paulina at an otherwise empty table felt strange.  But it would feel even stranger to sit not next to Paulina at the very large empty table.  Danny let his eyes drift over to the other three house tables.  It seemed that the others were of the same opinion, sitting together in little, painfully awkward clusters.  

All the close friend groups had been pulled apart, after all.

“Danny,” said Paulina.  Her voice wavered at the end.

“Yeah?”

“The wizard kids will have cliques.”

“I mean, yeah, they’re still human, right?”  And even ghosts formed groups.  

Paulina nodded and clenched her jaw.  “We’re going to get into one,” she said, firmly.  “We’ll have to find the best one, and fast, otherwise we’ll wind up at the bottom of the pecking order.  You know how much that sucks.”

“Yeah,” said Danny, his eyebrows raised.  He was a little surprised to be included.  

“The wizards we’ve met so far are pretty weird.  You know how to deal with weird.”

“Uh,” said Danny.  “Is this a strategy thing?  Isn’t it a bit too late for that?”

“It’s never too late to salvage social standing, and we haven’t even started,” said Paulina.  “Anyway, you’re the backup plan, in case they’re aliens who don’t fall for my charm.”  She put a hand to her heart and fluttered her eyelashes.

“Should we even use charm like that here?  I mean, since it’s a class, now.”

“Hmf.  I’m good at that, too.”  She examined her fingernails.  “We’ll probably attract a bunch of people, just because we’re here and visible and new.  We just need to make sure that people stay interested in us.”

“I’m not sure I want attention, Paulina.”

“Then pay attention and follow my lead.  If you’re in the right clique, you can fade into the background.  Like Star. No one notices the stuff she gets up to. They’re all too focused on yours truly. As they should be.”

This was true, actually.  People didn’t really pay any attention to Star, except in her person as Paulina’s satellite.  Even Danny, before becoming Phantom and gaining a new perspective on life and the people in it, hadn’t.  

“Besides,” continued Paulina, “now that we, well.” She didn’t quite blush.  “You guys don’t suck as much as I thought you did.”

“Uh, thanks.  You, too?”

Wow.  That was quite possibly the worst response he could have had.  

Paulina sighed heavily.  

However, she was distracted from whatever she might have said to him by the first of the Hogwarts students coming in.  Paulina turned her attention away, her eyes flicking from one set of green and silver highlights to the next.  Whenever a student looked their way she smiled and waved, pouring on the charm.  

Danny didn’t know how she did it.  Social engineering was never going to be his strong point.

(Perhaps he could set Paulina and Star on the Minister of Magic’s trail.  They might have more luck.)

Before he could follow the train of thought, they were surrounded.  In a simply physical sense.  There was no malice and very little aggression from the students that sat near them, more than one of whom had prefects badges.  Still, Danny did have to fight down a knee-jerk reaction.  He saw Paulina shift uncomfortably as well, and he gave her robe what he hoped was a steadying tug.  

She returned it with a tight smile.  

There wasn’t much time to talk before Professor McGonagall stood up with the hat and started calling names.  Everyone went very quiet during the sorting, except for the cheer that rose with the hat’s every shout.  

Then there was food.  A lot of food.  Most of it was recognizable, but some of it was sort of weird.  Many things were pumpkin flavored.  There was even something Danny was fairly certain was pumpkin juice.

He didn’t know how to feel about that.

Paulina took the time to engage in social engineering. Danny took the time to watch.  They were both watched back, of course, but Paulina naturally drew more attention.  

However, there was one boy who kept staring at Danny. He was about their age and had pale blonde hair.  Really pale blonde hair.  

(Danny had thought Star and Dash were blonde.)

“You’re Daniel Fenton, correct?” asked the boy.  

“Um.  Yes. And you are?”

“Draco Malfoy.  I’m the fifth-year prefect.”

“Oh, Draco like the constellation?”

Draco blinked.  “Yes.”

“Did your parents like astronomy a lot, then?”

“Astrology,” corrected Draco.  “Astronomy is what muggles do.”

Danny carefully forced down the white-hot rage he felt at that statement.  Yeah, he had more than a normal admiration for astronomy, and, therefore, a more intense than normal reaction to astronomy and astrology being confused, but magic was real, apparently, so maybe astrology wasn’t useless.  Right.  Yeah.  And they were both about stars, planets, and space. Nothing to get mad at.

“It’s been a tradition in my mother’s family for generations,” Draco was saying, “although we occasionally make some allowances for other traditions.  My mother’s name is Narcissa, for example.  Is there anything similar in your family?”

“Dad’s side does ‘J’ names for the first born.  Jazz got stuck with that.”

The boy’s eyebrows went up.  “You have a sister?  She isn’t magical?”

“Magical enough to haunt me,” said Danny.  

“Pardon?”

“She died.  She’s around here somewhere, though.”  He gestured vaguely.  “Didn’t want to be around big crowds.  I think she said she was going to hang out with Myrtle?”

“Myrtle?  Do you mean Moaning Myrtle?  Who haunts the bathrooms?”

This time, the reaction Danny suppressed was a cringe, the emotion embarrassment on behalf of the young witch ghost.  “She just introduced herself as Myrtle.  Well, Myrtle Warren, but…  Yeah.  It’s kind of rude to describe someone as moaning, isn’t it?”

The boy puffed up, slightly, clearly offended.  

Oh, dear.  

.

The Americans were… interesting, Harry thought.  

Ron and Hermione had sat near them as part of their ‘prefect duties,’ with Harry and therefore Ginny and Neville following after.  

Well.  That may have had more to do with curiosity than anything else.  

They introduced themselves by their first names only. Dash, Valerie, and Sam.  Dash was… well.  Harry had encountered people like him both before and after coming to Hogwarts.  For example, McClaggen.  Harry hadn’t ever interacted much with McClaggen, even if they were in the same house, but Dash definitely gave off the same feeling.  Meanwhile, Valerie just sort of glared at everyone, resisting all attempts at conversation while tearing at her food with extreme aggression.  Sam had managed to engage Hermione and Katie Bell in a conversation about dark magic that was getting Hermione progressively more flustered.  

Harry couldn’t tell if it was because of the misconceptions Sam had about magic in general, or because Sam seemed to think some kinds of dark magic should be legal.  

He was starting to get a very bad feeling about these Americans.

.

“Hey,” whispered Tucker, while the students around them were distracted by something a rather round ghost was saying.  

“What?” whispered Star.

“Is it just me, or is everyone here sort of depressed? Like, I can understand us being depressed, but…”

“No, no it’s not just you.  Wasn’t there something about a student death?  Some kind of freak accident.”

“Oh,” said the student sitting across from them.  “You heard about Cedric.”

.

Danny wondered if he could get to the Minister of Magic through Dolores Umbridge.  He hadn’t gotten a good read on her during their very brief encounters the previous week, but now...  She gave off the impression of having some kind of political power.  His understanding was that the headmaster had a lot of influence among the wizards and witches of this country, so for her to be interrupting him like that…

Or maybe he was like Danny and weak against social awkwardness.

Also, her speech seemed to have a deeper meaning he couldn’t decode.  He didn’t understand wizarding culture or their political climate enough, despite his research.

Eh.  He’d have to get a better grasp of her personality and position.  Hopefully, that wouldn’t be too hard.  He did have a class with her.  

.

“The events of last spring have left a mark on the whole school,” said Severus Snape into the muffled quiet of the Slytherin common room, his voice just barely more emotive than during the placement test he had given the Casper High students, “and no doubt on many of your home lives as well. I want you to know that if you have any… concerns… regarding the behaviors of fellow students or… more sensitive topics, you can come to me.”

The man blinked slowly at them.  

“That is all,” he said, finally, and with an overly dramatic swish of his cloak he departed.  

The room quickly filled with light chatter, students breaking off into little cliques, some of them slipping away down shadowy corridors.

Paulina tugged him towards one of those groups.  

“Hi, Pansy,” she said, giving the girl a little wave, “hi, Draco.  We were wondering if you guys could show us around?  We were told our stuff would be moved here, but…”  She trailed off, shrugging elegantly.  

Danny tried to echo the movement.  

He most likely did not succeed.

(It wasn’t like he could tell.  His superpowers did not include seeing himself from the outside—Or maybe they did.  There could be a spell for that, he supposed.)

He had to admit, as the prefects made a (just slightly supercilious) show of presenting the Slytherin dormitories to them, that he rather liked the space.  It was surprisingly well-ventilated and warm, but there was still a general air of closeness, of security of bone-deep chill that spoke so well to his ghost half.  

Of course, a lot of that would probably evaporate once Danny tried to sleep in a room with half a dozen strangers, but, well, he’d deal with that when he got there.

.

Magic was great and all, but Tucker would trade it all away in a second if only to get his PDA to work properly.  

In the tent formed by his bedsheet and his body, Tucker hissed and rapped on the staticky screen, hoping an impact adjustment would do… something.  He didn’t know what.  The last three hadn’t done anything.  

The way the metal casing was heating up under his hand was disturbing.  Quickly, he thumbed the power button.  He didn’t have a lot of these left, and he wanted to be able to use them to communicate with Danny and Sam.  He missed their late-night Doom sessions.  

(Along with everything else about his life in Amity Park. He at least had the power to make talking to his friends possible.  The rest? Not so much.)

He groaned into his pillow.  He’d been working on this off and on all week.  Another night wouldn’t matter in the long run.  

Maybe one of his classes would help him understand what he was doing wrong.

.

Sam had sort of enjoyed needling Hermione (the girl reminded her a lot of Jazz), even if she knew she shouldn’t, but the nasty fight between some of the fifth year boys in the common room had really ruined the mood. Hermione’s friend, Harry, was apparently some sort of celebrity.  Like, in the same way Phantom had been a celebrity following Walker’s invasion.  

So.  Not really a great thing for him.  

Ugh.  Sympathy. Feelings.  She sighed and stared up at the red and gold ceiling.  If the color scheme didn’t do her in…

.

Danny met Jazz in the air over the school.  

“I didn’t see you much today,” he said, twisting hands that he is keeping carefully transparent.

“Yeah,” said Jazz.  “I’m just…  I’m still adjusting.  I think you’ll like Myrtle, by the way.  She’s lonely, but fun.  I think there might actually be a bit of ectoplasm in her, believe it or not.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.  She can flood the toilets, apparently.  Although… I’m not sure if she meant the toilets themselves, or just the room in general.”  She frowned. “Because she said something about sinks…”  She shook her head.  “Not important.  Want to hear what she told me about the secret underground room and the giant snake skeleton?  Not to mention all the other ridiculous stuff that’s happened here.  If this is ‘safer,’ I don’t want to know what the rest of the wizarding world is like.”

“Like what happened in Amity, I guess,” said Danny. “But!  Yes.  Please tell me what you found out.”

.

Breakfast was nice.  Especially when Sam, Danny, and Tucker compared schedules and realized that they had more classes together than they expected.  Not with all three of them at once, but even just two of them together was better than nothing.  

Yes, they got a lot of strange looks, especially when Jazz joined them.  Evidently, eating breakfast with people from other houses just wasn’t done.  Which was stupid, in Sam’s opinion.  Actually, the whole house system felt increasingly stupid to Sam.  She just didn’t understand the point.  Was it for sports?

It was probably for sports.  Sports were the root of all evil.  Just look at Dash.  He hadn’t had any sports for a whole Summer, and now he was acting like an actual decent human being.  

Okay.  That reasoning was suspect.  Sam would have to come back to this when she was more awake.  Early mornings were the worst.  

Anyway.  She had an acceptable breakfast with her friends and the people she’d grown to tolerate, then she set out to find History.  

Which is how she overheard the conversation between Hermione and her friends.  

“What’s S.P.E.W.?” she asked.

Hermione’s two friends glared at Sam.  Probably for the sin of eating with people from another house. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

“Well,” said Hermione, just slightly hesitant.  “It’s the Society for the Promotion of Elvish Welfare…”

(Sam found a new cause to get incandescently angry about. Wizard society sucked.)

.

Harry was surprised to see five of the Americans, the three Gryffindors and the two Slytherins, standing by the door to Defense Against the Dark Arts, quietly talking to each other.  

“What’re they doing, then?” asked Ron, scowling. “Consorting with the enemy?”

“Honestly, Ron,” said Hermione, rolling her eyes.  “They aren’t the enemy.  And they’re from the same place.  It must be difficult, being so far away from home.”

Ron grunted and shrugged.  “What d’you think Umbridge’ll be like, anyway?” he asked, changing the subject.  

They filed into the classroom, the remainder of the class, including the Slytherins, their green looking horribly out of place amongst all the red trim, following shortly after.  No one knew what Umbridge would be like, regarding punishment, so they didn’t want to immediately get on her bad side.  

“Well,” she said, in a sickly-sweet tone, “good afternoon!”

There was a mumbled response.  

Umbridge said “Tut, tut.”  She actually said tut tut.  Out loud.  “That won’t do, now, will it?  I should like you, please, to reply ‘Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge.’  One more time, please.  Good afternoon, class!”

“Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge,” said the class, in something approaching unison and the least enthusiastic tone Harry had heard since Ron had tried to convince Hermione to help him with his Divination homework last year.

“There, now,” said Professor Umbridge.  “That wasn’t too difficult, was it?  Wands away and quills out, please.”

Many of the students exchanged gloomy or exasperated looks. Lessons without wands tended to be uninteresting, with very few exceptions.  

(Instead of quills, the Americans produced pencils and pens from their bookbags.)

Umbridge opened her handbag and pulled out her own wand, which was as stubby as she was, and tapped the blackboard.  Words appeared on the board at once:  Defense Against the Dark Arts, A Return to Basic Principles.

Harry couldn’t quite repress a groan.  Luckily, he wasn’t the only one.  

“Well now, your teaching in this subject had been rather disrupted, hasn’t it?” stated Professor Umbridge.  She turned to face the class, her eyes briefly lingering on Harry, and then the Americans.  “Or completely nonexistent.  The constant changing of teachers, many of whom do not seem to have followed any Ministry-approved curriculum, has unfortunately resulted in your being far below the standard we would expect to see in your O.W.L. year.

“You will be pleased to know, however,” she continued, still acting like she was talking to kindergarteners, “that these problems are now to be rectified. We will be following a carefully structured, theory-centered, Ministry-approved course of defensive magic this year.”

Each word Umbridge spoke made Harry’s heart drop farther. How could Dumbledore let this woman teach them?  This year?  When knowing how to fight dark magic was more important than ever?

Umbridge rapped the board again, and new words appeared. Course aims:  1. Understanding the principles underlying defensive magic. 2. Learning to recognize situations in which defensive magic can legally be used.  3. Placing the use of defensive magic in a context for practical use.  

Oh.  This year was going to be bad.  As for the day, it got worse when Umbridge assigned a reading from what had to be the dullest book Harry had ever read.  Including that one time—No.  Focus.

He massaged his temples and wondered if he needed to get a new prescription for his glasses.  The words on the page refused to stay sharp.  

Harry looked up when the Americans started to whisper among themselves and caught sight of one of the most shocking things he had ever witnessed: Hermione not reading.  

Soon, everyone was staring either at Hermione or the Americans, who had left off whispering after some pointed glaring from Umbridge but had replaced the whispers with passionate gesturing at something in the back of the book.  Those, too, died down after a while, in favor of looking at Hermione.  

Eventually, Umbridge could no longer ignore the situation.  

“Did you want to ask something about the chapter, dear?”

“Not about the chapter, no.”

“Well, we’re reading just now.”  Umbridge smiled.  It wasn’t pleasant.  “If you have other queries, we can deal with them at the end of class.”

“I’ve got a query about your course aims,” said Hermione, undeterred.  

“And your name is—?”

“Hermione Granger.”

“Well, Miss Granger, I think the course aims are perfectly clear if you read them through carefully.”  

“Well, I don’t.  There’s nothing written up there about using defensive spells.”

“There’s nothing in the book about using spells, either!” said the Slytherin boy, waving his copy angrily.  “There aren’t even any of the, um.”  He paused and looked at Sam for a second.  

“Incantations,” said Sam.  “I mean, that’s what I’d call them?  I don’t know the official term.”

Umbridge inhaled through her teeth.  

“Using defensive spells?” she asked, voice pitched unnaturally high.  “Why, I can’t imagine any situation arising in my classroom that would require you to use a defensive spell, Miss—”

“And what about outside of the classroom?” interrupted the Slytherin boy.  

“Like, this is supposed to teach us how to not die, right?” asked the girl next to him, examining her fingernails.  

“You have to practice self-defense to actually get good at it,” agreed Valerie, crossing her arms.  “What’s the point of this class if we’re not going to actually learn how to do stuff?”

“Yes,” agreed Hermione, “surely the whole point of Defense Against the Dark Arts is to practice defensive spells?”

“Students,” gritted Umbridge, “will raise their hands when they wish to speak in my class.”

At once, a dozen hands went up.

“Miss Granger?” Umbridge asked, voice dangerous.  

“Isn’t the whole point of Defense Against the Dark Arts to practice defensive spells?”

“Miss Granger,” said Umbridge.  “As you are not a Ministry-trained educational expert, you are not qualified to decide what the ‘whole point’ of this, or any, class is. Wizards much older and cleverer than you have—”

“I really doubt that,” interjected Ron.  

Umbridge took another deep breath.  “You will be learning about defensive spells in a secure, risk-free way—”

“What’s the use of that?” demanded Harry, loudly.  “If we’re going to be attacked, it won’t be in a—”

“Hand, Mr. Potter!”

Predictably, Umbridge turned her back on him as soon as he thrust his fist into the air.  Instead, she called on Dean Thomas.  

(The part of Harry’s brain that wasn’t vibrating in frustration noted that the Americans were passing notes between each other.)

“Well, it’s like Harry said, isn’t it?” he asked, once she had gotten done with interrogating him about his name.  “If we’re going to be attacked, it won’t be risk-free—”

“Do you expect to be attacked in class?”

Harry was very tempted to say yes, considering that three of his four previous DADA teachers had wound up attacking him.  

… Did Professor Lupin’s werewolf form having a go at him bring the count up to four?

Umbridge talked over Dean.  “I do not wish to criticize the way things have been run in this school,” she said, with the air of someone who was about to do just that, “but you have been exposed to some very irresponsible wizards in this class, very irresponsible indeed—not to mention,” she gave a nasty little laugh, “extremely dangerous half-breeds.”

The Slytherin boy stood up, chair scraping across the floor. Sam, next to him, had gone pale. Her fingers were wrapped tightly around her wand.  

“Sit down, Mr.-?”

“I’m leaving,” said the boy, not deigning to give Umbridge his name.  He picked up his bag.  “Maybe I can sit in on an actually useful lesson.  I mean, if I can figure out how to make a pineapple tap dance, I can get it to fly into someone’s face.  At least that’s something.”

“Sit down,” repeated Umbridge.  “I do not know what your classmates have told you, but you, all of you,” she said to the class, “have been frightened into believe that you are likely to meet Dark attacks every other day—”

“We haven’t been frightened into believing anything!” exclaimed Dash, also rising from his seat.  “Our entire city was attacked!  We need—"

“Which was a tragedy.  One that is unlikely to be repeated!  Now, sit down.”

The other Americans stood up.  

“We heard about Cedric Diggory, you know,” said the Slytherin girl, coldly.  “And a lot of the people who attacked us were never caught.”

“We also know about the giant murder snake that apparently lived here,” said the boy.  

“I, for one, can’t believe that wizards are less likely to be murders than any other human,” said Valerie.  “If normal people need to take self-defense classes, I don’t see why we shouldn’t be able to.”

“The government preventing people from learning how to defend themselves is historically a bad sign,” said Sam.  “Of course, slavery is also a bad sign, and you all have been ignoring that for God only knows how long.  There are actual slaves in this school.”

“Wait,” said the Slytherin boy, horrified.  “Are you serious?  Is that what you were talking about before?  Oh my God—"

“Children!” exclaimed Umbridge.  “Your hands are not up.”  

The looks Umbridge got after that outburst were filled with incredulity, not

Parvati Patil raised her hand.  

“Yes?” asked Umbridge.

Harry was beginning to wonder if she was looking for punishment.  

“Isn’t there supposed to be a practical bit in our Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L.?”

“As long as you have studied the theory hard enough, there’s no reason you shouldn’t be able to—”

The room exploded into a flurry of objections, spurred on by the Americans.  

“Who exactly do you think is going to attack you?” shouted Umbridge over the ruckus.  

“I don’t know!” shouted Harry back, even though part of him knew this was a bad idea.  “How about Lord Voldemort?”

Silence.  

“Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr. Potter?”

“Points?” whispered Dash.  No one else spoke.  

The Slytherin boy was looking at Harry with something like hunger in his eyes.  

“Now, let me make a few quite plain.  You have been told that a certain Dark wizard had returned from the dead—”

“He wasn’t dead,” said Harry, “but yeah, he’s returned!”

“Do not make matters worse for yourself, Mr. Potter!” exclaimed Umbridge shrilly.  “As I was saying, you have been informed that a certain Dark wizard is at large once again. This is a lie.”

“It is NOT a lie!  I saw him! I fought him!”

Glee spread across Umbridge’s toad-like face. “Detention, Mr. Potter.  Tomorrow evening.  Five—  What do you think you’re doing?”

“Um,” said the Slytherin boy, who like the rest of the Americans was halfway to the door.  “Leaving. Like we said?”  He hadn’t stopped walking.

“You will do no such thing!  All five of you will be joining Mr. Potter for detention.”

“Pass.”  His eyes flicked towards Harry again.

“Excuse me?”

“We have better things to do than humor someone who’s refusing to do their job,” said Sam.  

The classroom doors slammed shut right in front of the Slytherin boy’s nose, and he took half a step back.  

“Tomorrow evening, at five o’clock, all six of you will join me for detention in my office.  Now.  The rumors of that Dark wizard’s return are lies.  The Ministry guarantees that you are not in danger from any Dark wizard.  If you are still worried, if someone is alarming you with fibs about reborn Dark wizards, come see me outside of class hours, I would like to hear about it.  I am here to help.  I am your friend.  Now, kindly, continue your reading.  Page five, ‘Basics for Beginners.’”

The Americans slunk back to their seats but pulled a variety of colorful transfiguration textbooks from their bags instead of Defensive Magical Theory.

With an air of triumph, Umbridge sat down behind her desk.

Harry stood up.  

“Harry, no!” whispered Hermione, tugging at his sleeve.

Harry ignored her.  (Which was, in all honesty, a stupid move.  Ignoring Hermione rarely had positive consequences.)

(In his defense, the preceding several minutes had been… stressful.)

“So, according to you, Cedric Diggory dropped dead of his own accord, did he?”

“Cedric Diggory’s death was a tragic accid—”

“Just like Amity Park, huh?”

“A tragic accident,” continued Umbridge, voice full of ice.  

“It was murder.”  Harry was shaking.  He felt like he was under a spotlight, and he wanted to be anywhere but here, talking about this.  “Voldemort killed him, and you know it.”

For a second, Harry thought Umbridge would start screaming, but instead her lips curled up into a parody of a smile.  “Come here, Mr. Potter, dear.”

As Harry walked forward, Umbridge started scribbling on a small, pink, piece of paper, angled so that Harry couldn’t see what she was writing.  Something moved out of the corner of his eye, and Harry flinched.  

The…  What were they even doing?  Why were they sitting like that?

“Take this to Professor McGonagall, dear,” said Umbridge, holding out a roll of pink paper.  

Harry took it from her without a word, turned on his heel, threw open the door, and—

Was almost trampled by the Americans all escaping the room at once.  

Dash grabbed him by the upper arm, and soon all six of them were running down the hallway.  It took several seconds for Umbridge to start shrieking, and, by that point, the Slytherin boy had pulled them all into a secret passage that someone who hadn’t been at Hogwarts for even a month shouldn’t know about.  

“Wow,” said Sam.  “You work fast, Danny.”

“Thanks,” said Danny, giving her a thumbs up.  “Got to thank the Bloody Baron, though.”  He paused.  “Still can’t believe that’s his actual name…”

“Sorry about dragging you with us, by the way,” said the Slytherin girl.  “I’m Paulina. This is Danny.  You already know these three, I think?”

“Er,” said Harry, not at all sure how to deal with this situation.  Part of him just wanted to shout.  He was still vibrating with suppressed rage.  

“I didn’t really catch your name in all that, though,” she continued, gesturing behind them.  

“It’s Harry.  Potter.”

It was… interesting, how his name didn’t spark any recognition in them.  At least not at first.  Then Danny stiffened and—

“The poltergeist is coming this way,” he said, mildly.  

“You can tell?” asked Paulina.

“I could always tell.  Why do you think I was always in the bathroom when ghosts were around?”

Valerie scowled, and shot a truly venomous glare at her watch.

“Do you think we can convince him to bug Umbridge?” asked Sam.

Danny shot a look of surprise at her.  Then he smiled.  “Maybe,” he said.  He turned back to Harry.  “It was nice meeting you.  I hope we can talk again sometime.  It sounds like you’ve been through a lot, and, well…”  He shrugged.

Harry suddenly remembered that the Americans were here, for the most part, because their families were dead.

“But you should probably track down Professor McGonagall sooner than later.  I’d bet that Umbridge put a timer on that.  If that’s possible.  Is that possible?”

“I don’t know,” said Harry, suddenly a hundred times more anxious about the paper clenched in his hand.  

“Gosh, imagine if Lancer could do that,” said Dash.

“I’d take Lancer any day,” said Danny.  “He actually tried to teach stuff.  Anyway, I’m going to go head off Peeves.  You might want to go around.  I hear he can be kind of a jerk?”

“Right,” said Harry, walking further down the secret passage, because he had been here for a proper length of time and had learned about it properly.  

… Although he supposed that asking the ghosts was a proper way to go about learning the secret passages.  

No, he had to focus on how to explain getting kicked out of class to Professor McGonagall, not on the weirdest interaction with Slytherins he’d had to date.

#danny phantom #harry potter #fic #gift fic #prize #winner

[fakesurprise]

Evil Wizard Rants

Sadly, he never got to use one of them But Tomas - who went into the far realms by accident via breaking a Staff of Power- returned for revenge. He had Legendary Actions entirely for rants, some of them written down ahead of time :)

“Let me show you the wonders of the universe! This is a meteor!” => casts Major image as a meteor shower.

“I have seen things you will never understand! I have done things no one will ever know. I have made deals that make the birth of a goddess seem like nothing. I have walked in places where shadows fear to exist. I have seen the place I was before I was, I have seen what awaits even gods in their end!”

“I have danced with entropy and bent even chaos to my will. I have seen things I can never unsee. I have learned things nothing mortal was ever meant to learn. I have been remade, a sacrifice of myself to myself. “You think I am weak because I am changed, but I am STRONG!! I have passed through fire and through ice and was forged in an anvil you cannot begin to understand!”

“You think you understand magic? It is alive. It is aware. It yearns. It has designs beyond the skeins of gods and the fumblings of the arcane. I am a becoming, but here and now I can make myself small enough for revenge! There is no light, no shadow. There is no safety.”

“There is only power, and those who are terrified of it build the conscience - a noose around the necks of the strong!”

“Your dreams are so small; in the true world beyond this one there are no dreams. What is a dream but a thought, and what is thought if not a failure of action?”

“I am not being unfair. When you act, you incur responsibility. I bring you death as a kindness: imagine if death were only the gateway to a realm of your gods; you would never be able to escape yourselves.”

“I have spoken with Nerull and I know he will return. Tell your precious goddess this and let her know fear in her own tower! Let her remember that to be mortal is to fear and she has not escaped that. NOT AS I HAVE!”

#game1 #Dnd 5e #tul'zen

[darthkvznblogs]

Dp- What would a world run by the magical world look like? I expect it to be glorious revenge for the creatures that were subjugated and killed and the gods who lost worshippers to the Abraham if religions. If Merlin was the first sorcerer supreme, did he resign or die? If he did die, how did Douxie(who is presumably in kryptonverse) become a wizard?

I guess it would depend on when the timeline diverges; if the split happens pretty early on, before creatures of magic start getting hunted down, then I'd imagine it'd be a pretty interesting and civil meld, but if it's post magic genocide, then yeah, revenge is likely.

Merlin was not the first Sorcerer Supreme; the first one to bear that title was Agamotto, around 2300 BCE. The first to fulfill the role, way before the Masters of the Mystic Arts were an institution, was the sorcerer Bellroc, some 127,000 years back. Much like in Trollhunters canon, Merlin died around the year 1000 CE. His death left the position of Sorcerer Supreme vacant for almost three centuries, until the Celtic sorceress now known only as the Ancient One took over.

Douxie's story is more or less the same. He was Merlin's apprentice in Camelot, he escaped with Archie after Camelot fell and King Arthur's court disbanded, eventually met a fellow wizard in Zoé, and now resides in Arcadia. He taught Claire how to wield the Shadow Staff in the three years since Jim went into the Darklands, and he and Zoé are practically Trollhunters themselves.

#ask box #anon ask #kryptonverse #tales of arcadia #trollhunters #toa wizards

[bloodyblade]

Tremble For My Beloved [1]

Pairing: Thorin x Fem!Reader Summary: AU in which the daughter of a nobleman was running for her life after an orc attack, and after being welcomed under Gandalf's wings, joins the quest to reconquer Erebor. Sort of. Warnings: Mentions of violence and gore, a tiny bit sad. Word Count: 2.353 words.

[Ao3]

Chapter One.

The earth beneath your feet was shaking and trembling, or perhaps it was your legs that were too spent from running in a desperate and unprepared sprint. Entering a crumbling house, you hide behind a wall, standing on a crouch to be able to take a peek on the outside from the window. Holding the machete tightly to your chest, your eyes sweeped the hiding place you chose looking for possible exits.

Sweat was running down your face, lingering at the eyebrows and making their way down. Your heart was beating as strong and fast as a drum, you could feel it in your chest, throat and the sound in your ears. Harsh breaths were coming out silently as you could manage. You were trembling. Exhausted, scared and hurt. Dirt was accumulating under your fingernails along with specs of blood that also tainted the green dress you wore, shoes and thighs, finer than many could ever wish for, had its beauty and delicacy ruined. You looked ruined.

Your hair, that before was put in an intricate updo, was now almost completely loose and caked with sweat and blood that wasn’t yours. Askell, who you grew up having him as your shadow, died for you. He was your protector, always have been. A knight dedicated to you, before you could even walk and always accompanied you through your most important feats -learning how to walk, riding a horse for the first time and then falling epically on your ass, watching you from afar on your every name day. God, it was his blood on your hair, face, chest, dress. The blow was so hard on his head that he fell over you, who were behind him just like he demanded you should be. You scrambled back but part of his body landed on you, knocking you to the ground with him before you could push his body off, Askell’s heavy armour making everything even more difficult. Just as the enemy turned around, you finally managed to get free and balance your protector’s weapon by your side. It was pointy and shone under the candle lights, as if it had never been used before. Because it hasn’t, Askell never needed to. No one in your father’s state ever needed too.

But looking up and coming face to face to this… creature’s face, your blood ran cold. It was pale and ugly, uglier than any story could ever make up. So you got up at your fastest pace and with as much strength you could gather, took the knight’s weapon and ran. Ran until your lungs were on fire and felt like your deep, uneven breaths weren’t enough to keep your body going. Everything passed in a blur, as if your body alone knew what it was doing and so you dodge the fights and screaming and crying people, successfully making your way out of your forever home and the whole manor and what else it consisted of. As you slowed down, you ventured into a small city, knowing you must have ran a lot, for the city your caregivers always spoke of was certainly a few miles away.

And that’s how you found yourself where you are now. You didn’t look back in fear of what you could see and in fear of your enemies, which was most definitely a stupid decision but you couldn’t go back now. You knew your father had enemies, but never thought anyone would be so cruel to try and murder not just your family line but other nobles that were present at the feast your father was giving. Did someone hire them? Did your father somehow get on these creature’s bad side and leave them seeking revenge? How would dad even get in their way?

Don’t think about it. Those things didn’t matter, not anymore at least. Askell was dead, your father was most certainly dead right now and your mother died the moment you took your first breath. You heard how people would whisper that when you came out of your mother’s womb, you stole her breath and ultimately caused her death, and that it was a sign of a curse they were certain you carried: anyone to ever love you would most likely face an awful and painful death. So far, they weren’t wrong. Perhaps you were cursed.

You stayed alert for a while, besides the sounds of your now normalizing breaths, all you could hear were the sounds of nature that surrounded the place. Overgrown grass surrounded the house, allowing for all kinds of bugs to make home there. She could see the flickering soft light of the fireflies, hear the cicadas and buzz of wings that flew past your face, way too close for your liking. And you started to lose track of time, your legs growing tired from carrying your weight in the same position for too long. Slipping slowly towards the ground, you let yourself rest for a moment, closing your eyes and puffing a shaky breath past your lips. You were so tired. It felt like a fever dream, the people chatting and laughing and eating and mingling around. The sound of your father’s boisterous laughter ringing loud and accompanied by many others. A song played on the background softly, a few people fluttering on the ground with grace and kids running around, being chased and chatiest by their caretakers. Braids more intricate than others, some showing off and proudly stating their status, either as rich as piss or happily married, courting. Beads as beautiful and delicate than many could ever wish for. Gosh, you did wish to have one on her hair at some point in life. But now all that seemed so… shallow and unimportant.

How could such futile happiness become a bloodbath so quickly? Thankfully you didn’t see any children hurt and held ignorant hope that they managed to flee to somewhere safe. Gosh, you could hardly believe that, on her way there, she slashed one of the monsters, the hard blade buried itself on his shoulder as he screamed in rage and pain, blood trickling down it’s bare chest and after tugging once, twice to get it out of him, it’s blood rushed out like a horror story would detail, making him stumble and set its eyes on you form, but before he could do anything, you hit it with the machete hard on the knee, making him fall on his face. Although the goal was to kill it with a hard strike to his chest, the weight of the weapon didn’t allow you to do so. But this creature was the same that killed Askell, so you felt a hint of satisfaction to cause it enough damage to somehow avenge him.

But it’s not like you didn’t get hurt at all, you were no fighter, even if Askell did try to give you self defense classes with a smaller sword. Main word being try. You could manage, but doubted you could handle yourself in battle, but he assured you that you would never need to go into battle as long as you had him. Your hairline was definitely sore and the skin open, allowing a little blood to pool around and dirty your face worse than it already was. On your run, you tripped and fell on your hands and knees, getting your palms scrapped and pulsing with pain from the fall and having to carry a heavy weapon your unprepared hands were unused to.

And you waited for something, anything. But nothing came. Were they waiting for you to leave the place or go back to the manor? It was better to stay here until morning, wasn’t it? Probably, yes. So, with your knees to your chest, you put your head between them, allowing your body to relax a little and feeling yourself going a tiny bit slack, your machete close by your side.

If it weren’t from the footsteps on the house terrain, you would’ve fallen asleep for your eyes were heavy and mind fatigued. Standing up slowly and carefully, trying to step as lightly as elves would, you picked up your weapon and walked towards the front door. Whoever was outside, their steps were light, but not light enough that you couldn’t hear them. You could also notice how confidently they were walking, so it couldn’t be children either, and by the sounds of it, they were alone.

Your head was pounding and your hands were shaking again, you were reaching the peak of exhaustion. You held your breath as three knocks sounded one after the other on the door. After not giving any kind of response, the door opened slowly and creaked loudly and a tall, slim robbed figure stood at the door, against the moonlight only their silhouette can be seen.Holding the weapon in front of you with both hands, you took a fighting instance, or what you thought could be described as it.

“Reveal yourself.” You demanded with a slight tremble and agitation to your voice, only to have the figure step forward with a chuckle. It was a man, with a long staff and grey robes that reached the ground and covered the length of his body. And he was old, a long beard adorning his face. A pointed blue hat complemented his appearance, making him look like… like he wanted to seem like a wizard.

“Ah, I figured you would be here, Y/N daughter of Sindel, son of Serill.” The senile man began, walking closer so you make out his features. His beard was as long as she initially made out, and as white as his long hair, just like the scarf he wore. His bushy eyebrows framed his eyes, wrinkled due to the warm smile he was trying to convey.

“Who are you and how do you know my name? How do you know my father?” You asked, keeping yourself unmoving where you stood. He sighed deeply but didn’t let his lips turn any other way.

“I’m Gandalf, the grey.” He brought his unoccupied hand to his chest, introducing himself kindly, before letting it fall along with a sorrowful expression on his face. “I’m deeply sorry for your loss, but I vowed your father to take care of you should… the unexpected turn of events happened before time was right.” He motioned for you to lower your hands, and you did it hesitantly. If he wanted, he could’ve hit you that staff he was holding, but he probably needed aid to keep standing. He looked very old. “In fact, you’re not safe at all while you’re here, come.” He motioned for you to follow him as he turned around but you didn’t move an inch. How did he know your father and did this man owe him anything? Did you even know your father at all? He looked back at you, taking carefully your fear struck features and ratted clothes and understood. Of course he knew there was a slight possibility you didn’t know anything at all about who your father truly was but more importantly, who you truly were and just how important you are.

“How do you know you’re not one of them?” You finally voiced your main concern at the moment, Gandalf cocked his head to the side. “My… My family was murdered. How do I know you’re just trying to lure me out here so they can finish what they began?” You took another step back, waiting for an answer. He didn’t look exactly threatening but you couldn’t afford to trust anyone, not right now.

“Would that answer your question?” He asked as he handed you the object that was in his possession. Where did he get this? It was a dagger. Your mother’s dagger. One of the belongings she left for you, passed from mother to daughter in your family’s lineage. The design on the hilt was intricate and beautiful. It was rather dusty and had a few marks of use, but you were sure it would’ve been from her. Your father often told you how skilled she was, but never allowed you to use it. It was merely something decorative laying proudly on your nightstand. Until you lost it. You cried for days and dared not to tell your father, he would most likely be furious. Askell told you once how your parents knew your mother could possibly not survive after birth and how she separated and dedicated something for you, her first and only child. Your dad did ask you once about it, he probably already knew by them, but you decided to pretend everything was where it was supposed to be. Which was wherever you wanted it. That earned you a pointed and warning glare for him but you only smiled sweetly back then. Now you had a slight idea where it went.

And it could be a copy, a very good one, for there were several skilled blacksmiths your father knew about. If it weren’t for one detail, you would not have believed him: two designs on the blade. The vessels of the sun and moon. Your mother has always been so devoted to Mahal. Your eyes glazed over, but you didn’t allow yourself to cry. Straightening yourself, you looked at the man that was waiting patiently for you to analyze what was yours by right. You looked at him with determination and a chuckle left his lips as he smiled again.

“Come, let’s get you somewhere safe for the time being.” He beckoned you closer again and this time you obeyed.

“Where are you taking me?” You questioned as you looked around warily, searching silently with a calculated gaze for any threats. Night time was never kind for those endangered and that’s exactly what you were. You could trust him, maybe. But you didn’t know if you could protect yourself and the old man as well. What’s with the pointy hat anyway?

“Well, my dear,” he began, waiting for you to fall into step besides him “You most definitely are in desperate need of a shower.”

#bb writes #thorin x reader #thorin x you #the hobbit imagine #thorin oakenshield x reader

[blo0swing46]

Underwing Challenge Day 6!

What does your portfolio look like? Talk about as many other WIPS as you'd like here.

My portfolio is very mixed, but mostly contains different types of Fantasy or Adventure stories, occasionally drifting into side genres like Science Fiction, Actions, or Mystery/suspense! I also mainly write chapter books, as that's what I find most entertaining!

I have a few WIPs, so we'd better get started!

Quiet Instincts: Melissa is a young girl who's become good friends with a group of runaway kids who live in school that was abandoned after 5 students went missing nearly 30-40 years ago. Melissa starts feeling like she's being watched and sees shadows following her. While doing further research into this, she runs into an old man who gives her a book that details events very similar to her own. With the help of a few of her friends, she investigates an area near her town said to be connected with these strange events. Much to their surprise, they quickly end up in over their heads.

Trapped Underground: While exploring the outskirts of their city, Callan and his friend, Felix, find a strange cave. During school the next day, they convince two of their friends to join them in exploring it, and are quickly joined by the "teachers pet", as she thinks they'll just cause harm to the cave. They meet up later that night and go to the cave, only to be trapped inside by a sudden rockslide. The five of them, plus another student who'd accidently got caught in with them, try to find an exit before they run out of supplies. They soon start to think that the rockslide might not have been an accident, as strange occurrences start to happen and one of them seems to be the target. Callan.

Codename Starships: Overconfident, anti-villan, Ryker Clint, is half way between roaming the galaxy as an independent bounty hunter-type person and running around doing tasks for the agency that's been tasked with protecting the galaxy. He keeps his ship running with his self aware computer, Pigeon, and his young mechanic, Kayl. The two of them are going through their normal routine when one of their closest allies is attacked and robbed of a powerful item, one of many scattered throughout the galaxy. Seeking revenge, Ryker and Kayl try and find the people responsible, but their paths are crossed with the Agency's who are looking for the same people, and they quickly realize that these thieves are a bigger threat then they thought, as they've collected multiple of the powerful objects and are possibly putting the whole universe at risk.

*my less developed stories-*

Operation Magic (Working on name): In a galaxy full of indepent hero-like agencies who help defend the worlds their located on, three young students are trying to find a way to start up their own agency when they are suddenly wrapped up in another agency's conflicts. Two of them leave while the one takes on being an apprentice for that agency's wizard (All agencies have a mix of medical staff, wizards, and engineers, as well as fighters/defenders. They can all take on apprentices/interns.) However, when the apprentice is mysteriously injured just a few days later, the other two come back and try to figure out what happened to their friend. Suddenly, the whole agency is sabatoged, leaving them distraught and confused. However, they quickly get their act together and peruse the traitor to try to stop him from starting a civil war admist the very tense situation the solar system finds themself in.

Kingdom Siege (working on name): A story that takes place in a fantasy-Medieval setting. A jolly guard from a waterbased kingdom who came to one of the biggest, and most inclusive kingdoms on land to find work is now one of the highest ranking commanders. However, after the Prince is secretly kidnapped, the King is blackmailed by a group of extremists. The Water Guard and a few of his friends are exiled when they get suspicious of the King's changing behavior. However, they don't give up on the King and his family. Together with a few people on the inside, they plot to retake the kingdom and save the royal family, which includes endeavors little sneaking into the castle, spying, and even interrupting an execution.

I have more, but these are the ones I feel the most confident talking about!

That's all for now! Thank you so much for reading and I hope you all have great day!

#underwing Challenge #underwing Challenge Day 6 #Quiet Instincts #Trapped Underground #Codename Starships #Operation Magic #Kingdom Siege

[wizardouxie]

Since Morgana was on Merlin's side in the evil!Douxie au, what happened to Angor Rot? Did he make a more benevolent bargain with Morgana? Did Hisirdoux or the Arcane Order steal his soul? Or did something else happen to our favorite eyeball-removing assassin?

EYEBALL-REMOVING ASSASSIN I SNORTED --

Okay, so I did joke around with the fact that Strickler sent Angor Rot after the protagonists only for Morgana to successfully turn him over to their side. To be honest I’m gonna slightly change that.

Also disclaimer: I didn’t know how to properly format this so it’s gonna be Canon vs AU!

Canon: Angor Rot needed Morgana to give him the power to protect his people. Morgana gives it, but not before trapping Angor Rot’s soul in the Inferna Copula (the ring) so that she could use him to try and free herself. He goes hunting trollhunters under her wishes and even tries to hunt down Merlin.

AU: Angor Rot goes to Hisirdoux to get the power, but Hisirdoux refuses to intervene in the matters of others. Instead he tells Angor to have faith in the trollhunter, who has always helped magical creatures. Hisirdoux does not know about the amulet or the fact that it was made by Merlin. Unfortunately, Angor’s village is decimated. The warrior is driven mad by grief and vows to hunt trollhunters to make them pay for their inability to protect his people. He tries to hunt Merlin as well, who he knows is the creator of the trollhunter amulet but fails when the wizard seals his soul away in the Inferna Copula and imprisons the warrior in a temple far away from it.

Canon, no change: Strickler finds the Inferna Copula. Everything that happens until Angor Rot’s death before Jim goes to the Darklands remains unchanged.

Canon: Gunmar and Morgana revive Angor Rot to find the Staff of Avalon and bring Eternal Night.

AU: Hisirdoux learns of Merlin’s existence and revives Angor Rot, soul and all, to force him to help Gunmar and find the Staff of Avalon before Merlin does. In the AU both Merlin and Morgana had sealed away their staffs, but Claire finds Morgana’s. We then see Hisirdoux loom over the Arcadia Gang, where he sees Claire being taught by Merlin. Out of jealousy, he possesses Jim through dark magic, but not shadow magic. While Merlin binds Jim, Claire learns to snap Jim out of it with the shadow magic skills she learns. It’s similar to how Strickler teaches Jim how to get rid of the grave sand’s effects -- by emotionally connecting to them. Merlin does not recognize Hisirdoux’s voice and makes a note to seek this sorcerer out later.

Canon: Morgana brings upon Eternal Night and offers Angor Rot the chance of killing the trollhunter.

AU: Hisirdoux senses Angor Rot’s hesitancy after seeing Gunmar kill the Gumm-Gumms without remorse. The warrior is reminded of the time when his people were killed; as a result, he makes the decision to make amends with the trollhunter. Unfortunately Hisirdoux does not have the Inferna Copula so he cannot control Angor Rot.

Morgana is the first to welcome Angor Rot, which is a surprise because of how she felt when Barbara was hurt. He develops a soft spot for her and refers to her as ‘the Pale Lady’. Toby doesn’t forgive for what he did to Aaarrrgghh, but Angor is understanding of that. He tells them the information he gained from within and spars with Jim after he turns into a troll.

Gunmar is able to bring upon Eternal Night with the Staff of Avalon since he’s fueled with heartstone energy.

Two possibilities:

Angor Rot sacrifices himself to protect Jim from Gunmar’s fatal blow.

He helps Jim deliver the final blow and survives.

Either way Merlin reclaims the staff and he and Morgana reverse Eternal Night.

Hisirdoux wants to intervene. To battle Merlin like in his vision. But the Arcane Order holds him back. He’s done enough. There will come a future chance where he can exact his revenge. Cue Wizards.

In the case that Angor lives, he stays back to help the trolls in Arcadia and turns over a new leaf. He entertains the little whelps and shoos away thieves from Bagdwella’s shop. He smiles. He feels as though he’s returned home from a long, long war.

#HOO BOY THIS WAS A DOOZIE #OR SHOULD I SAY #A DOUXIE #okay i really need to stop #but seriously this was fun to do #i will say though that douxie being both morgana and arthur was a bit complicated #because merlin can't know that it's him until wizards #but thank god for puberty so voice changes are a thing #oh god here comes the tags #toa #tales of arcadia #toa trollhunters #tales of arcadia trollhunters #trollhunters #jim #james lake junior #james lake jr #jim lake junior #jim lake jr #claire nuñez #claire #toby domzalski #toby #blinky #blinkous galadrigal #aaarrrgghh #merlin #morgana le fay #morgana pendragon #morgana

[sockablock]

JAY I FORGOT TO ADD "the mighty nein visit whitestone and tell them abt trent dickithong" TO MY PROMPT LIST. (any of those prompts are fine ofc) (and i'm going off to read your 'clays at whitestone' fic too!)

@samael76 and @transvaxildan boy we sure do hate trent and frankly I think that’s very sexy of us (the OG post, for reference!)

—

Percy was sure that they’d been trying to sell him something up until the moment the Zemnian man rolled up his sleeves.

And then, he’d leaned back into his chair.

He heard Vex’ahlia’s sharp intake of breath, felt her brush by his shoulder to peer in. Cassandra, on his left, let out an angry swear, and the group before him—the Mighty Nein—seemed to almost sag with relief.

Like they hadn’t been convinced he’d believed them, until now.

Granted, he hadn’t. But such was Percy’s life.

“This is…how long ago was this?” Vex demanded. “The scars…they look rather old.”

“They are,” the wizard gave a nod. “But we have…well, evidence that this is still going on.”

“In new and exciting ways,” the monk spat. “You should really get a better sense of where your shit goes.”

The half-orc at her side winced slightly, raised a hand as if to apologize, but Percy quickly waved him off.

“No, no, she is right,” he sighed. “I suppose we’re more the fools to not have known this sooner.”

“Though,” Cassandra interjected, “we ourselves certainly do our due diligence. It is the re-sale market that can be…unscrupulous.”

“Of course, I understand that,” the wizard murmured. His forearms were, once again, fully covered. “Still, though, we hope that this can persuade you to hear out our plea.”

“For what, darling?” Vex’ahlia asked. She glanced over the group before her—save for perhaps the firbolg, all of them were younger.

“For help!” The blue tiefling girl held up a hand. “We think we can lure Shitface out for good. And…hopefully, put an end to this.”

“Is that so?” Percy raised an eyebrow. He leaned back in and steepled his fingers. “Please, by all means, do share.”

“We want you to hold a grand ball,” the half-orc said. “One where you invite foreign dignitaries from all over. Shitface—that’s Ikithon, by the way—doesn’t leave his tower as much, these days. But you guys are the biggest source of residuum in the world. And if you insist that he comes, he’ll show.”

Cassandra pursed her lips. She nodded along.

“And I assume, once this ball is in place, you will try to assassinate him?”

“Yes,” the smallest figure nodded. Her hood was too far over her face, but Percy could’ve sworn—

“We will assassinate him,” the firbolg rumbled.

His attention turned back towards the others. He scratched the side of his chin.

“That…I can see where you are coming from,” he murmured, “but you have to understand, should he die in my castle, that could put us at war with your empire.”

“Not our empire,” the half-orc said quickly. “And we…we’ve thought that through, too.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” the monk nodded. “I’m going to kill him, and declare war from the Cobalt Soul. I’ve talked it through with my, uh…superiors, and they’ve finally agreed to my plan. It’s not enough, anymore, to hide from the shadows. And that’s not what our organization’s about. We’re supposed to spread truth, not guard secrets! So that’s exactly what we’ll do.”

She put her hand on the wooden table. And when she pulled away, she revealed a small stone.

Upon it was carved an eye, atop a staff.

Percy and Vex had seen this rune before.

“The second this happens, back at home, the Cobalt Soul will be ready to move,” the monk continued. “We’ve got hundreds and hundreds of agents across the continent, plus our sister branches here, in Tal’Dorei. But it isn’t just the numbers that’ll let us win. We have proof of what the Assembly has been doing. And the second we expose all that proof to the light—”

“Public opinion will shift,” the wizard murmured. “Finally. And we will start a revolution.”

The Mighty Nein stared intently at the de Rolos, waiting for a reaction.

And then, Percy sat back. Vex crossed her arms against her chest.

Cassandra tapped her brother on the shoulder.

“Well?” she murmured. “What do you say? It’s a bit like old times, don’t you think?”

“You mean when my soul was possessed?” he muttered. “Back when I didn’t have children to worry about?”

“Vesper is already twenty now,” Vex murmured. “And I’m sure she’d be thrilled to participate.”

Percy took his glasses off. He sighed.

He made eye contact with the monk, then the wizard.

“And you will do this?” he asked. “Not—not you?”

Caleb shook his head, and leaned in.

“The time for revenge is over,” he agreed. “Now there are other people’s lives to consider.”

“Plus,” Beau said, “he’s got shitty aim.”

Percy snorted. He set his glasses down.

He stuck out a hand for her to shake.

“Well, alright, then,” he nodded. “Let’s throw a ball.”

—

✨Ko-fi link in my bio✨ | Finished fic requests right here! 💜

#critical role #critrole #critfic #fic #fanfic #cr2 #cr1 #YALL THIS FICLET WENT TO SOME PLACES HUH #sdjkfshkj #thank you both for sending it in!!!! #jay writes #jay fills requests #5k fic request #long post #text #fanfiction #assasinate trent 2k19 PLEASE #tw scars

[auredosa]

Eye to Eye

She was digging through the Foreign Worlds section of the library, because she wants to know, has to know who they were before. Because back then, they had the same light blue eyes. They weren’t so different after all, they almost looked almost the same, back then.

Who were they, back then, when they last saw eye to eye?

Ophisa Dominique got it that sometimes when you ask the Spiral a question, the answer you’ll get, and the one you’ll have to put up with, is, “magic.” But, she’s also pretty sure that basic human biology still applies, too.

As in, Malistaire and Cyrus Drake were supposed to be identical twin brothers, right? (“What, I call them by their names. What of it?”) Meaning that they should look similar-very similar. And yet, for some aggravating reason that neither Professor Balestrom nor Professor Wu could explain, in every portrait and painting of the Master of Death himself, he has hair and eyes as black as a raven down, and skin so pale she wonders how he never got sunburnt living Dragonspyre.

She knew that much, at least, that they grew up in Dragonspyre.

One day, when she was digging through the Foreign Worlds section of the library, because she wants to know, has to know who they were before, Ophisa finds a photograph. It’s in full color, printed in a book proudly titled The Dragon’s Hoard: An Overview of Dragonspyre’s Elites. The first name that falls under “D” is Drake, and along with it is a card-sized picture of the then-current household. All four of them.

It was so surreal to look at. Their mother wasn’t who she expected her to be. Iphedina Drake was strong, almost as tall as her husband, with a determined air about her and the family crest embroidered on her battle robes. She looked more warrior than mother. In her hand she held a perfectly polished war scythe. In the back of her mind, Ophisa knew she’d seen something like it before.

“Is that for display only, Professor?”

“No, Dominique, but you’re still not allowed to touch it. Now take that bestiary back to Balestrom and leave me alone.”

Their father, on the other hand, was about as evil-looking and menacing as it got. Did he choose to dress like a vampire for his family gathering? She couldn’t tell where his dark beard ended and the collar of his robe began. His hands were gloved in some shiny, well worn fabric. Right, he was a pyromancer, she learned by skimming the brief biography of each family member. The only spots of color on his person were the blood-red gems that stuf the cuffs and sockets of his entire imposing ensemble. There was one set into a gold brooch underneath his chin. So it’s a family heirloom, huh?

“You ever see that senior necromancer walking around? Name’s Daulton, or something. Why he’s gone and covered his staff in rubies? Aren’t those for fire wizards?”

“I don’t know, man, he says he does it in honor of his old mentor. No clue who that is.”

And then, there were the Drake brothers themselves. Ophisa didn’t know where to begin. She couldn’t believe that the grouchy Myth professor who snarled at her every day once had an afro-seriously, what happened? He looked so much . . . happier back then, a tiny smile on his fresh face. What happened?

But while Professor Drake’s old looks might’ve been surprising, it was nothing compared to her astonishment when she saw Malistaire. The big guy, the man who went mad after hid wife died of a cold, yeah, sure, and tried to destroy the Spiral to enact his revenge, or something along those lines. Ophisa had only heard of him in stories, seem his name engraved outside the Death school house, been told not to ask about by the other teachers. But before the legend, there had to be a man, right? And before the man, there had to be a boy. A boy with short raven hair and a tiny thing hand on a simple magic staff, with his father’s hand on his shoulder and his brother beside him.

The caption underneath him told her nothing new, he was an aspiring necromancer shadowing his father at the Command Academy. It’s their eyes that make her start to wonder; who were they before? Because back then, they had the same light blue eyes. They weren’t so different after all, they almost looked almost the same, back then.

Who were they, back then, when they last saw eye to eye?

 He knew of only one student that would have the audacity to visit his classroom so late after school’s gotten out, and he didn’t exactly have the patience to see her right now.

“Come in,” he said flatly, not looking up from the paper he was grading.

“Hello, Professor Drake,” she chirps. She was holding something. “How has you day been?”

She wasn’t asking to be nice; he knew that for a fact. “Manageable, Dominque. What are you here for?”

She held out the creased envelope. It was filled with many things, from how thick it was. A letter? When did she start playing messenger for Ambrose?

“I recently had to do a research project about Dragonspyre. I found some pictures that I thought you’d like to have.”

Ah yes, because he needed more reminders of the home world he’d lost all those years ago. He knew what it looked like before. What could possibly be in this envelope that wasn’t already burned into his brain?

“I’m not trying to waste your time. Please, at least have a look,” she adds, and Cyrus noticed that her usual condescending tone was nowhere to be found. Odd. Well, it was Ophisa Dominique; it had to be something interesting at the very least, right?

He wordlessly took the envelope from her, slicing it open with a sharp letter opener. Cyrus removed its contents, and when he sees the first clipping, he’s immediately taken aback. These were pictures of people. People he knows, people he knew.

An old family portrait before he was shipped to the Command Academy, a picture of him and his brother in their old jewel-tone tunics before they were swapped out for a battle mage’s cloak and a soldier’s suit of armor, a headshot of him barely bigger than a stamp in his batallion. The last one he flips through was from right after they’d been discharged when the insurgency started. They’d both scraped through their own hells, and for the first time in what must have been an eternity, they understood each other. They still shared their eyes, back then.

None of them were particularly happy times, and they’re far from the golden moments he wanted them to be. But they’re moments from before, when these people were only across the base, not across the Spiral, and he can’t go back.

These scraps of paper are all he has left of a family that he can’t get back, and that’s more than enough for him.

Ophisa watched his reaction carefully, holding her breath as he thumbed through them again one by one. Then, he picks out the first one of Malistaire back in their Dragonspyre Academy days. Cyrus looked at the photo for a long, silent moment.

“He should be here,” he finally mutters. “His voice and laugh.”

He turned back to Ophisa. “Thank you for finding these.”

“Always-uh-you’re welcome, “ she stammers. “Have a good evening, Professor Drake.”

The doors have already closed and Ophisa’s gone before he can find his words.

“Thank you . . .”

#wizard101 #w101 #wizzyfandom #wizzy101 #cyrus drake #malistaire drake #ophisa dominique #fanfiction

[readersmagnet]

Wondering what would be a good adventure book to read? Please check out this book series called "The Shadow of the Staff" by Mark Haddad. 

With the first book in this series of novels entitled "The Shadow of The Staff, A Wizard's Revenge," the adventures of the peoples of Hatu would interest you. Currently, the second volume of the series, "The Shadow of the Staff, Tomorrow is Just a Day Away," is progressing for release as early as spring of 2021. 

Check out this novel series and order your copy through this website - mahaddadnovels.com/order.

#The Shadow of the Staff #The Shadow of the Staff: A Wizard’s Revenge #Mark Haddad #adventure books #book #books #books and libraries #readersmagnet #readers magnet #readersmagnet publishing

[unabasheddeanhairdobailiff]

The Amulet of Elemental. By Abriel woodoford.

Chapter 5.

Once the gang havn't cheak the upstairs yet. Ian heard a sound and purple Magic even around him.

"Oh not again" Ian felt pain with dark Magic around him.

"Ian!" Sadalia freaked out

They hear a laugh the evil witch Rena has returned.

"We meet again Iandore lightfoot" Rena said as she brought the monsters along.

"Rena" Ian said he held his staff at her. "What are you doing?!"

"For Revenge" said Rena "I still can't believe you defected me after these years I'm the darkness witch now you're gonna get it!"

"No!" Sadalia stood in front of Ian to protect him. "I won't let you do this to him!"

"What she said" said Athena

"Man you kids stick together" said Rena "monsters get that wizard!"

The monsters were gonna get Ian.

"Yep we're running for it!" Said Ian

Ian and his friends ran upstairs. Rena told the monsters to go after Ian.

"They're behind us!" Said Penelope

"I think they're only after Ian" said Gurge

Running in and out the doors until the monsters lost them.

"Great we lost him" said Wolfy

"Are you kidding me?!" Rena asked "Keep searching for Ian lightfoot and bring him over don't fail me!"

As they walked away the teens were in the room Sadalia quietly closed the door.

"That was close" said Sadalia

"You're right Gurge they really are after Ian" said Penelope

"Is there anything we can do Ian?" Sadalia asked but he didn't answer "Ian?"

She turned around Ian sat down on a floor and he was sad.

"Ian are you okay?" Sadalia asked

"I Just don't understand" Ian said a tears falls from his eyes "why are they coming after me? And why there dark magic inside me? I needed answers I don't know what's going on. I'm sorry guys this is my fault"

"Ian don't blame yourself" said Sadalia "It's not your fault you did so well even with your Amulet even Barley supports you"

"Really?" Asked Ian

"Of course the time I saw you defected the dragon with your Magic" said Sadalia "And you brought your dad back you are Magical Ian and we'll never leave your side. Right guys?"

The others agreed with Sadalia.

"Yeah" Colt said through the earpiece "you're the one with a staff after all"

Ian smiled "Thanks guys"

Suddenly blue Magic in the room Ian pulled the lever a wall opened he got the blue Jewel.

"The last Jewel was here!" Ian said

"It is!" Sadalia smiled "now we can open the door"

"That's right" Ian said "Come on gang let's go in that room!"

The gang rushed out the room then Ian put the Jewels on a door it opened by itself they go in.

"What is that?" Asked Athena

"It looks like some laboratory room" said Ian "strange"

Ian walked to look around to find the answer when he did the answer was he was cursed.

"What?" Ian asked he saw the answer mysterious Shadow cursed Ian with purple Magic.

"Woah that's one creepy mysterious shadow" Athena said

"You okay Ian?" Asked Penelope seeing Ian looked like he's about to freak out.

"The curse..." Ian's gonna panic.

"Ian?" Sadaia got worried about Ian.

"I was cursed?!" Ian screamed

"Yep he's freaking out" said Athena

"Ian try to stay calm it's gonna be alright" Sadalia placed the hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry I just can't believe my eyes" said Ian.

"Uh Ian you might wanna run" said Colt through the earpiece

"Huh?" Ian heard someone's coming.

"Ah ha got you!" Said Rena

"Seriously?" Asked Ian then said "Looks like our only thing is to make a stand"

Ian gets his staff and battle Rena

The gang watch Ian in action.

"You got this Ian" said Sadalia

"You can do it Master Iandore!" Said Bunny

"We all believe in you!" Said Kitty

Ian casts the spells then the. Amulet glows for Element Magic.

#pixar onward #ian lightfoot #sadalia brushthorn