#fatecanberewritten-writer

[fatecanberewritten-writer]

Black Sheep | Chapter Three: Nicknamers

Stars Series | Black Sheep

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

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

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

“What is it?” he asked curiously.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Now, what’s the platform number?”

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

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

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

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

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

“But Gus said - ”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Or twice - ”

“A minute - ”

“All summer - ”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Percy,” Percy said automatically.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I go by Cori.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

[fatecanberewritten-writer]

Card Tricks | Chapter Two: Home

Stars Series | Card Tricks

“Christmas isn’t for another week, do we really have to go home this early?”

From the other room, George Weasley heard his brother laugh. “Yeah, see how that goes over with Mum,” Fred jested, walking out into the living room of their flat. George was sitting at the desk by the window, several notebooks filled with numbers taking up the space, not to mention about two dozen crumpled papers scattered around him. As he approached him, Fred picked up one of the crumpled pages, opening it as he leaned against the desk next to his brother. George had been trying to work out their finances.

“Can’t we just get there when Ron and Ginny get back? It’s only a couple days difference.”

Fred crumpled the sheet once again and threw it at his brother. George, who had been keenly focused on the numbers in front of him, rolled his eyes as he looked up at Fred. “We’re going,” Fred insisted. “We need the vacation, you especially.” As he said this, Fred pushed the notebook George had been scribbling on away from him.

“What we need is an accountant,” George sighed, sitting back in his chair. He ran his hands over his tired face. “Don’t you miss when we were just inventing?”

Fred smiled grimly and clapped him on the shoulder. “We’ll get back to it, Georgie. Just you wait, soon enough we’ll have much more than just Verity working for us. We’ll have a whole staff of accountants, and we can just do the fun bits.”

George sighed again, but smiled lazily at his twin.

“Now don’t make me nag you about packing,” Fred said as he pushed himself from the desk. “Mum expects us for lunch.”

With a smirk, George flicked his wand in the direction of his room, and his suitcase came flying out immediately. Fred nearly had to drop to the floor to avoid its path, and in the silent moments that followed, George had to keep himself from laughing as Fred slowly stood back up. As he put his hands on his hips, George nearly lost it as he thought about how much Fred looked like their mother at the moment. “Well,” was all Fred had to say before the two of them broke out into a fit of laughter.

-

“Fred, George! Oh, thank goodness you’re home!”

George looked over to Fred in astonishment as their mother happily bounded out of the Burrow to meet them only seconds after they had apparated into the yard. Fred, with a look that mirrored his twin, shrugged. The both of them had to crouch a bit as their mother wrapped her arms around them.

“Didn’t know you missed us this much, Mum,” Fred commented with a laugh.

As Molly pulled away from her boys, her eyebrows were knitted together. “Of course I missed you!” she claimed, but at the way she didn’t fully meet their eyes, both of the twins knew there was more to the story. Nonetheless, they didn’t protest as she swiped her wand at their cases and they disappeared from their hands, no doubt to their room. “Now,” their mother continued, leading them inside. “Your father’s still at work, so he won’t be joining us, but Bill should be back any minute now and we’ll have a proper lunch.”

“Where’s Bill?” asked George.

“Yeah,” added Fred, “I thought his holiday started on Monday. Shouldn’t he be home?”

“Is he doing something for the Order?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” said Molly with a slight nervous chuckle in her voice. As they got closer to the house, she seemed to be slowing down. “He took the Kumar kids Christmas shopping in Diagon Alley this morning. Should be back any minute, though.”

As Molly hesitantly climbed the steps up to the door, George was beginning to catch on. “Just the Kumar kids?”

Reaching the door, their mother turned and gave them a confirming look. As she opened the door, the twins looked at each other, understanding. Their mother had been left home alone with Fleur.

As they stepped into the kitchen, Fred and George were hit with a deliciously sweet smell of something baking, though as they caught a hint of orange, they knew it was something their mother had never made before. “What’re you making, Mum? It smells - ”

But George elbowed Fred before he could finish, catching sight of Fleur, with her silvery blonde hair tied in an elegant knot on top of her head, walking into the kitchen, an apron over her robes. Molly eyed Fred pointedly, as if daring him to finish his sentence. He stayed silent, going bright red.

“Allo!” Fleur greeted, her French accent thick as ever. She also seemed happier to greet them than she had in the past, and George figured that she, like their mother, was happy to no longer be alone with her future in-law. “They smell delicious, don’t they?” she said to Fred pompously. Molly quietly huffed and left the room. “Madeleines,” Fleur continued, “it’s a Delacour tradition to make them before Noël.”

“I’m sure they’ll be great,” said Fred awkwardly, and satisfied, Fleur turned back to the oven. George was trying not to laugh as he shoved his twin out of the kitchen. 

Molly had taken to getting lunch ready in the living room instead of the kitchen, and she ignored them, Fred in particular, as they came in to join her. Fred slowly walked over to her like a kicked puppy while George flung himself on the sofa, watching amusedly. 

“Sorry, Mum,” Fred said to her quietly. “If I’d’ve known - ”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she snapped, cutting him off. As she finished the last sandwich, she took a deep breath and rolled her shoulders, physically shaking off the incident. “So,” she said, much more brightly, walking over to join George on the sofa, Fred quickly following, “how’s the shop going?”

“Fantastic,” George said proudly. “It’s going really well. Don’t think we’ve had a slow day yet.”

Molly gave them a proud smile, something they rarely saw directed at them. “You know, out of everyone, I think you boys surprised me the most. Entrepreneurs,” she said with a slight I-can’t-believe-it shake of her head. “Successful entrepreneurs at only eighteen. I never would have thought. And to think, I was shaming you over how few OWLs you got.”

“Yeah, we’re doing pretty well for a couple of drop outs,” Fred commented, but as with everything he seemed to say today, he was met with a sharp look from his mother. With an awkward grimace, he leaned over to his brother. “Guess that’s still a bit of a sore subject.”

“You think?” George chuckled, and as he did, Molly’s stern expression broke a bit, to their surprise. 

But before she could say anything more, the low-burning fire in the fireplace burst green flames, and little Regulus Kumar stumbled out of it, holding several bags, and covered in soot. When he saw them sitting on the couch, his eyes widened. “Hurry!” he said, and all three of the Weasleys felt their hearts jump in terror. “Go to the kitchen! Neela and Bill have some gifts that aren’t very well concealed.” There was a collective breath of relief at this, but Regulus was still determined to get them moving. “Quick! They’ll be along any second now!”

Obliging the young boy, Molly, Fred and George stumbled back into the kitchen. Fleur was startled so badly by the sudden arrival of them that she dropped the hot pan full of fresh-out-of-the-oven Madeleines. As the French woman started loudly cursing in her native language, George caught sight of the small grin on Molly’s face. He’d never felt closer to his mother than he did in that moment. 

Only a second or so later, Bill hurried into the kitchen to comfort his fiancée. A quick wave of his wand saved the Madeleines, but Fleur was much more difficult to calm. Neela crept in behind Bill to see what was going on.

Molly gave her a questioning look, and with a thumbs up, they knew they were good to go back into the living room, and they quickly did, desperately trying to get out of Fleur’s warpath. 

“What happened in there?” Regulus asked, coming back down the stairs. 

“Some Madeleines were nearly lost and their creator was not happy about it,” said George. Neela began to laugh at his phrasing, and though it took Regulus a second to fully understand what he had said, he joined in his sister’s laughter. Even Molly chuckled a bit.

After the laughter died down and the twins gave the Kumar siblings a proper greeting, they all sat down around the living room and grabbed a sandwich. Once Fleur was calm enough, she and Bill joined them, and the tension in the house seemed to cease for a moment or two.

“How was Diagon Alley?” Molly asked Bill, Neela, and Regulus.

“We didn’t spend too much time there, actually,” said Bill through a mouthful of ham sandwich. At the confused faces that met him, he swallowed and continued. “Not many of the shops were open, so we spent most our time in Muggle London.”

“Oh,” said Molly. There was a hint of sadness in her voice, but she tried her best to hide it. “And how was that?”

Neela beamed as she answered. “It was incredible. So many people were out, and there were so many decorations - it just felt so Christmasy! We walked around some of those Christmas markets - ”

“ - and Bill took us ice skating!” Regulus excitedly cut in. “It was amazing! We’ve never done it before!”

George leaned over to his eldest brother. “I think you may have just beaten us out for their favorite Weasley,” he joked.

Molly still seemed to be worried as she looked between Bill and the twins. “Is Diagon Alley really doing that badly?”

Fred grimaced. “It’s not looking too good, Mum. Gotten even worse since summer. Half of the shops have gone under, and the other half are just barely holding on.”

“Scared me half to death when I saw the lights off at your shop,” Bill said to the twins. “Forgot you were coming here today.”

George grinned, and seeing the slightly frightened looks on the Kumars’ faces, tried to lighten the mood. “Nah, they can’t get rid of us that easily,” he said in a brighter tone. He leaned over and ruffled Regulus’s hair. “So tell us more about Muggle London!”

Smiles quickly lit the kids’ faces, and they began to prattle on and on about their experience in Muggle London, Bill adding in, and Fleur commenting every now and then. By the time all the sandwiches were eaten, Neela and Regulus looked about ready to fall asleep.

“Were you all able to get more gift wrap?” Molly asked as the conversation died down a bit. 

Bill, Neela, and Regulus’s eyes all widened, looking around at each other. Molly’s famous motherly scowl was beginning to emerge, and it was clear that that was the one thing she’d asked them to pick up.

“Er - ” started Bill, but Fred rescued him.

“Don’t worry,” he said quickly. “George and I can go into town and pick some up.” 

Everyone looked thankful, but George most of all. He didn’t want to be there when the Kumars took a nap and Fleur and Molly were forced to interact again. 

With a grateful smile, Molly reached over and patted Fred’s hand. “I’m so happy to have you boys back home.”

-

“You know, at first, I thought she was just happy to see us because she wouldn’t have to be alone with Fleur anymore,” Fred was saying. In the bright afternoon, the twins thought it’d be best to walk into town. Heavy snow wasn’t supposed to hit for at least a couple more days, so the countryside was peaceful - a frosty, picturesque landscape. With the hustle and bustle of London, George had forgotten how much he loved it out here. “But I think she genuinely missed us.”

George smiled. “I missed her, too. I can’t tell you how excited I am for dinner. Cooking for yourself everyday has got to be one of the worst things about living on your own.”

“I don’t know,” chuckled Fred, “having to do your own laundry gives cooking a run for its money.”

George nodded in agreement as they came into the outskirts of Ottery St Catchpole. “While we’re in town, I think we should pick up something nice for Mum for Christmas. You know, show her how much we appreciate her.”

“You’re on your own there,” Fred scoffed. “I’ve already got Mum a present.”

George stopped in his tracks, looking at his twin with a dramatically hurt expression, right hand to his chest. “You got her something without me?” he exasperated. “You treacherous little - we always get her something together!”

“Not this year,” Fred smirked. “We’re businessmen now, Georgie. What better way to show Mum that we’ve made it than to splurge on her a little? And good luck topping what I’ve gotten her.”

“Oh, so it’s a competition now?” He caught up again with his twin, his hurt expression replaced with a competitive gleam in his eye. They turned onto the main street of the town, a street lined with local shops and businesses, the towering steeple of the church at the very end of it. It was known to be very lively, especially at this time of year, but as it was still the early afternoon on a Wednesday, the street was fairly empty. “What’d you get her?”

Fred chuckled evilly. “Like I’d tell you that.”

“Oh, shove off,” George joked, bumping his shoulder against Fred’s. “First you don’t tell me we’re getting separate gifts, and then - ” 

He stopped mid-sentence, because as he looked up, his eyes had found probably the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, walking just on the other side of the road. Her soft brown, wavy hair blew away from her face with the gentle winter breeze and the quickness of her stride, and even from a distance, George could see the pink flush on her oval face from the cold, and he was already awe-struck by her warm brown eyes. As his words fell flat, he had stopped walking again, caught in an utter trace by her. She didn’t seem to notice him at all.

Fred stopped as well, confused by his brother’s actions until he followed his gaze. When he saw her, his grin grew, and he looked back at George smugly. While they both had attracted a fair amount of female attention while at Hogwarts, Fred had always been the one that would act on it, and while George would flirt occasionally, he had always been pretty indifferent when it came to the girls at Hogwarts. Fred had definitely never seen him like this before, and it was something he very much enjoyed seeing. 

“Looks like it’s your lucky day,” said Fred as they watched the girl walk into a store. George looked over at Fred, flushing red and trying to ignore his brother’s smirk. “She’s going into the paper shop.”

#card tricks #ct #stars series #fatecanberewritten #fatecanberewritten-writer #fanfiction #harrypotter fanfiction #george weasley fanfiction #ao3 fanfiction #wattpad fanfiction #george weasley #fred weasley #molly weasley #fleur delacour #oc: regulus kumar #bill weasley #oc: neela kumar #oc: laine gladden

[fatecanberewritten-writer]

Bewitched | Chapter One: Problems

Stars Series | Bewitched

“Grunnings Drills, what can I do for you today?”

She clenched her teeth as she noticed the three men in suits walking through the lobby. One of them, she knew, was her boss. Mr. Taylor was about the strictest it got, and one too many times already in the month she had been working here, he had caught her answering the phone ‘improperly’. She kicked herself now, praying Mr. Taylor was too busy to take notice.

Mr. Taylor, the tallest of the three men, stopped, turning to look at the desk. The other two soon followed. The only ones in the large room, all was quiet aside from the receptionist’s short phone conversation. A rather pudgy man in the back shuffled his feet, looking at the woman in pity. He watched as her eyes froze on them all for a moment, before turning away quickly, her face flushing red.

“That would be Mr. Martin in Accounting, would you like me to transfer you?” From the corner of her eye, she could see him approaching, almost slowly, like a predator hunting its prey. “I’ll transfer you now, have a great day.” Her hands were shaking as she pressed the buttons to transfer the call, then quickly put the phone back to the receiver. Nearly as soon as she did, there was a slapping sound so loud that she jumped and let out a small squeak. She looked over to see Mr. Taylor’s hands flat against her desk, his face and bald head reddening, just slightly, in anger.

“How many times do I have to tell you, Evans,” he said, his northern accent coming out strong. “There is only one way we answer the phone around here. Tell me what it is.”

The pudgy man behind Mr. Taylor frowned, feeling guilty as he looked at the woman’s wide, blue eyes. She hesitated, then closed her eyes for a brief moment, shaking thoughts back into her head. “Grunnings Drills, this is Petunia,” answered the woman in her best customer service voice, despite the nerves that wracked her. 

Mr. Taylor gave her a wicked smile. “Good,” he said, “you’re not completely incompetent.” The silence in the room continued, and as Petunia’s jaw slacked, the pudgy man and his companion shared a look of slight shock themselves. “A pretty face doesn’t get you too far answering phones, Evans, remember that,” he continued, beginning to walk away from her desk. “You’re easy to replace. You should be grateful I even hired you in the first place.” 

Through gritted teeth, Petunia replied, “Thank you, Mr. Taylor.” He returned to the other two men, and, looking down at her desk, she heard them leave. 

Thinking she was alone, Petunia brought her head to her hands, and let out a shaky breath. Nearly every day had been like this one, and she didn’t know how much more of this she could take. She thought of where she might be if she had taken that market job in Southwark, even though she would only be making half of what she was making now. She wondered if it was worth it, if the extra money was worth putting up with this. She wondered if it was worth leaving home at all.

She was startled when she looked up to find the pudgy man who had been with Mr. Taylor approaching her desk. Quickly, she forced a smile. “How can I help you, sir?”

“I wanted to apologize on behalf of Taylor,” he started, taking her off guard. She’d seen him in passing before, and the man had always seemed to be quite fond of her boss, so his actions now confused her. “He’s been like this to every receptionist we’ve hired in the past six months.” The man leaned his arm against Petunia’s desk, and spoke lowly. “You’ve lasted the longest of them all, you know. Longest they’ve lasted before you was two weeks. It’s admirable, really.”

“Maybe it’s not a problem of the receptionists you’ve been hiring, then,” answered Petunia.

The man’s sympathetic face slowly broke into a smile, and the smile spread to Petunia. “You know, I think you might be right. What was your name again?”

“Petunia,” she answered, sitting up a little straighter.

“Well, you might just have solved all our problems, Petunia. I’m Vernon,” He reached his hand over to her, and after looking at it for a moment, she took it.

Despite meeting the first decent person since she had arrived in London, Petunia counted today as yet another loss. Hand held tightly to the metro handle in the center of the train car, she rested her head against her fist, almost finding pleasure as her knuckles pressed into her temple, relieving some of the pressure in her head. She wondered if this was what a migraine felt like - if, maybe, her pain tolerance was higher than her mother’s, and she could simply stand it more than her. She quickly dismissed it. Her mother had a higher tolerance in everything.

She shut her eyes for a moment, but opened them again as she felt the train car slowing. There was a muttering over the com system, but she didn’t need to hear it to know it was her stop. After getting seriously lost the first time she had used the London metro on her own during her first week, Petunia had taken the time to memorize and master the metro system. The last thing she wanted to do was end up on the clear other side of town in the middle of the night again.

Readjusting the strap of her purse on her shoulder, Petunia moved toward the doors, exiting with a total of maybe ten people. She paused towards the top of the stairs, sighing at the sound of pouring rain. There hadn’t been a cloud in the sky when she had left for work that morning. She straightened her posture, placed her purse over her head, and continued, the clicking of her heels being lost to the rain and traffic.

After half a mile of trotting through the rain, Petunia finally reached her flat. The last block was nearly a sprint up the hill, so her breathing was labored as she closed the door behind her. She turned to find a pair of snobbish looking women, looking at her incredulously. Standing up straighter, she nodded to them, and began to walk past them.

“What, did she go for a swim?” one quietly said to the other, causing the both of them to break out in giggles as they opened their umbrellas and stepped out. Petunia felt her face reddening, and paused for a moment on the stairs. She felt a welling in her chest, and looked up at the ceiling to try to hold back the tears. It was right about now she wished she still believed in a God.

Though she knew it wouldn’t help anything, she slammed her door behind her as she reached her flat. She ripped off her drenched overcoat, threw it onto the floor beside the door, and let it lay in a soaking heap. Soon after, Petunia followed it, her back sliding against the door until she met the cold hardwood floor. 

She didn’t even cry. She just sat there in her loneliness.

“I should just go home,” she whispered to the empty room. It wouldn’t even be that difficult. Nearly everything she owned was still in boxes.

Yet, with a tap on her fourth-story window, she remembered why she couldn’t go home.

#bewitched #stars series #fatecanberewritten #fatecanberewritten-writer #harry potter fanfiction #marauders era fanfiction #marauders era #harry potter rarepair #narcissa black x petunia evans #petunia evans #oc: andrew taylor #vernon dursley #oc: timothy cox #oc: judy perry #oc: ruth henderson

[fatecanberewritten-writer]

Crucio | Tom Riddle

Every person, no matter how strong they were, no matter how well they resisted it, would come out of the Dark Lord's Cruciatus Curse either unconscious or screaming out for mercy.

He was the only one who would come out of it, laughing.

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

Read on AO3; read on Wattpad.

Stars Series

PART I | THE DIARY

Chapter One: Riddle

Chapter Two: Help

Chapter Three: Disobedience

Chapter Four: Waiting

Chapter Five: The Deal

#crucio #stars series #fatecanberewritten #fatecanberewritten-writer #harry potter fanfiction #tom riddle fanfiction #tom riddle #voldemort #tom riddle x male oc #death eaters #top death eater #ao3 fanfiction #wattpad fanfiction

[fatecanberewritten-writer]

Black Sheep | Chapter One: The Light

Stars Series | Black Sheep

For the very first time in all his memory, the only sound that he could hear was the lulling ebb and flow of the sea. The wind still howled past his ears, the seabirds still called, and if he really tried to listen, he could still hear the distant but ever-present noise of his rowdy brothers - but louder than them all was the sea. He had never felt more at peace.

Percy Weasley was only five years old, but already he found himself to be happier when he was separated from the rest of his family. He loved them, of course, but as the third of now seven children, there were moments when he just had to get away from them.

The days were starting to get colder as summer came to an end, but in this mid-day, he was still able to find a patch of warm sand to sit on. He leaned back into it now, his small, pale hands sinking into the soft sand behind his back. His face was turned toward the sun, his already-bespeckled eyes gently closed. He timed his breathing with the breath of the waves.

He could have fallen asleep like that, and he would have had a shadow not fallen over him. Scrunching his eyebrows together, the young boy opened his eyes.

“Not going to join your brothers in the water?”

“Aunt Tessie!” Percy exclaimed, as if he had been caught doing something wrong.

The old witch’s wrinkled face curved into a small smile at the young boy’s reaction. He must have expected to be scolded, but Letessa Cuffaro wasn’t the scolding type. Percy watched in awe as the hundred-and-one year old witch gracefully sat beside him in the sand.

For a while there was silence, Letessa squinting against the sun to keep an eye on the other four boys down at the shore, while Percy watched her with wide eyes, taking in every detail of her old but beautiful face. She had a very memorable face, and while it would change drastically in the next twelve years before her death, Percy would always remember it this way, with pronounced cheekbones, a sharp nose, and eyes that matched the color of the sea at high noon. If the five year old knew what the word meant, he would call her elegant.

“So, how are you liking Shell Cottage, my boy?” Letessa asked him, a couple of grey hairs escaping from her updo with the breeze.

Percy readjusted himself, looking out across the beach. Bill, Charlie and the twins were all down at the shore, their pant legs cuffed to their mid-calves, though they all still got soaked as they kicked around in the water. Further up the beach, he could see, not too far away, his Aunt Tessie’s Shell Cottage, planted firmly on the edge of one of the cliffs looking out to the sea. It looked like it could be in a painting. He wondered if anyone had ever painted it before.

“I think it’s my favorite place in the whole world,” he finally said, and nodding his head, he confirmed, “Yes, it is my favorite place in the whole world.”

Letessa chuckled, her face brightening. Percy noticed the happy lines that formed in the corners of her eyes when she smiled like that. “I’m very glad to hear that, Percy.” As she said his name, her smile changed a bit. “Do you know, Percy, that you’re named after your great-grandfather?” 

Percy looked up at her with a tender curiosity in his eyes, and for a moment, to Letessa, it felt like she was looking at her brother instead of her great-great-nephew. The young boy looked remarkably like his namesake, and she wondered if he would grow to look even more like him. With a darkening thought, she wondered if he would even get the chance. 

In her life, Letessa had seen many, many dark times. She had lived through the Great Muggle War, seen its atrocities and inhumanities, and saw how it only increased with a second World War decades later. She had seen the rise and fall of the dark wizard Gellert Grindelwald, and had buried her beloved husband because of it. She didn’t think it could get any worse than that, but what she and her family were going through now made that all feel like child’s play. 

Never had there been a greater threat than the dark wizard she only dared to call He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. He was the embodiment of the wrath of all the century-long built up tension in the world, and not a single person was left unaffected. Just four months ago she had helped her dearest Molly bury her brothers, and now she took in her great-niece and her children, as it wasn’t safe for them at home anymore. They couldn’t see a single shred of light in this dark tunnel.

But as she looked at this young boy, and out at his brothers at the shore, she knew this wasn’t true. They were the light. Letessa smiled. “This was his favorite place, too. It was all of ours. That’s why my husband and I built that cottage - so we’d never have to leave it.”

Percy almost said aloud that he wished he didn’t have to leave it either, but he quickly stopped himself. As much as he loved it here, he missed his home, with all its oddities and chaos. What he missed the most was having all of his family together again - to see them all happy again.

“Your brothers and I are going to go on a walk along the beach,” Letessa spoke up, “would you like to join us?”

Though what she offered was only the illusion of a choice, as he was only five, it made all the difference to him that she had asked. Now, though he enjoyed the peace that came with being apart from them, he chose to rejoin his family.

#black sheep #bs #stars series #fatecanberewritten #fatecanberewritten-writer #harry potter fanfiction #percy weasley fanfiction #percy weasley #bill weasley #charlie weasley #fred weasley #george weasley #aunt tessie #oc: tessie cuffaro

[fatecanberewritten-writer]

Black Sheep | Percy Weasley

"It's never a good thing, is it? Being the black sheep of your family?"

"That all depends on the family you're leaving behind."

Read on AO3; read on Wattpad.

Stars Series

PART I | HINTS OF GREY

Chapter One: The Light

Chapter Two: Little Miss Prefect

Chapter Three: Nicknamers

Chapter Four: Legacy

#black sheep #bs #stars series #fatecanberewritten #fatecanberewritten-writer #harry potter fanfiction #percy weasley fanfiction #percy weasley redemption #percy weasley #ao3 fanfiction #wattpad fanfiction

[fatecanberewritten-writer]

Card Tricks | George Weasley

“Do you want to see a magic trick?”

Laine Gladden was stuck. Stuck in the mundane, desperate for a life she'd always pictured for herself when she was young. Stuck in tragedy, wanting answers, clarity, closure. Then suddenly there's him.

“Tell me something I wouldn't believe.”

George Weasley was lost. Lost in the dark reality of war, providing a light for others. Lost in a loneliness that had made him numb, longing for something he wasn't fully aware of yet. Then suddenly there's her.

They collide like fireworks on the darkest night. Bright, shimmering. A celebration, a warning. Then nothing but the residue of smoke against an inky black sky.

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

Read on AO3; read on Wattpad.

Stars Series

PART I | OTTERY ST CATCHPOLE

Chapter One: Fireworks

Chapter Two: Home

Chapter Three: Stuck

#card tricks #ct #stars series #fatecanberewritten #fatecanberewritten-writer #harry potter fanfiction #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley #georgeweasleyxoc #ao3 fanfiction #wattpad fanfiction

[fatecanberewritten-writer]

Circulus Viciosus | Chapter One: An Act of Love

Stars Series | Circulus Viciosus

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“If I’d’ve known - ”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

“Dad!” she screamed out.

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

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

[fatecanberewritten-writer]

Circulus Viciosus | Alice & Frank Longbottom

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

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

And a cruel way of tearing them apart.

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

Read on AO3; read on Wattpad.

Stars Series

PART I | GUM WRAPPERS & KNITTING NEEDLES

Chapter One: An Act of Love

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

[fatecanberewritten-writer]

By the Light of the Moon | Chapter One: Monster

Stars Series | By the Light of the Moon

Trigger Warnings: Blood, Aftermath of Violence

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Scamander.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How the hell did you just - ”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Or because the full moon’s approaching!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dalton - ”

“I said take a walk.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

[fatecanberewritten-writer]

By the Light of the Moon | Remus Lupin

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

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

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

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

Read on AO3; read on Wattpad

Stars Series

PART I | THE DARKEST NIGHT

Chapter One: Monster 

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

[fatecanberewritten-writer]

Crucio | Chapter Five: The Deal

Stars Series | Crucio

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

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

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

“Yes,” hissed Riddle.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What? Why?”

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

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

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

“Dumbledore?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Breathless, Ulises offered him no answer.

“Because he is weak.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This isn’t a joke,” Riddle snapped.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#crucio #stars series #fatecanberewritten #fatecanberewritten-writer #fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #tom riddle fanfiction #tom riddle x male oc #death eaters #top death eater #ao3 fanfiction #wattpad fanfiction #oc: ulises cross #tom riddle

[fatecanberewritten-writer]

Crucio | Chapter Three: Disobedience

Stars Series | Crucio

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What did you do?” Riddle hissed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#crucio #stars series #fatecanberewritten #fatecanberewritten-writer #fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #tom riddle fanfiction #tom riddle x male oc #death eaters #top death eater #ao3 fanfiction #wattpad fanfiction #oc: ulises cross #tom riddle #tom marvolo riddle #oc: nickolas avery #oc: carmen lestrange #oc: emile nott #oc: selena meyers #armando dippet #albus dumbledore

[fatecanberewritten-writer]

Crucio | Chapter Two: Help

Stars Series | Crucio

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Right,” said Cross, “uh, in here?” 

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

“I know it’s you.”

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

“Oh, come on, Tom - ”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re right.”

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

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

#crucio #stars series #fatecanberewritten #fatecanberewritten-writer #fanficition #harry potter fanfiction #tom riddle fanfiction #tom riddle x male oc #death eaters #top death eater #ao3 fanfiction #wattpad fanfiction #oc: ulises cross #tom riddle #tom marvolo riddle #oc: eliza kenter

[fatecanberewritten-writer]

Crucio | Chapter One: Riddle

Stars Series | Crucio

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My father was Riddle.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#crucio #stars series #fatecanberewritten #fatecanberewritten-writer #fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #tom riddle fanfiction #tom riddle x male oc #death eaters #top death eater #ao3 fanfiction #wattpad fanfiction #tom riddle #tom marvolo riddle #oc: ulises cross

[fatecanberewritten-writer]

Black Sheep | Chapter Four: Legacy

Stars Series | Black Sheep

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, why?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Felix Manning.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A family of Slytherins, huh?”

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

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

“Five.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The boy swallowed. “Lee Jordan.”

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

“No, ma’am.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cori reddened even more, but before she could respond - 

“Percy!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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