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liiilyevans · 1 year

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Life's a Witch

Summary: Ginny gets some bad news and goes to her sister-in-law for advice.

A/N: This was written for the @hp-12monthsofmagic challenge this month. I struggled with the prompt for a while, but then this came to me. So, buckle up for some good old fashioned angst.

Read on AO3 or FF.net

“Oh, Gin, I’m so sorry,” Harry said as he looked up from the letter. There were very few times in her life when Ginny wanted to slap her husband, but this was one of those times. His striking green eyes – the eyes that she’d fallen in love with – were filled with sympathy. If his hair hadn’t been up in a bun, Ginny was sure he’d have been running his hands through it. Instead, he settled for stroking his beard solemnly. Not like there was much to say, not really.

“Is there anything I can do?” he asked, starting to slip around the island toward her. Ginny sidestepped and immediately regretted it. Hurt filled Harry’s eyes. “Maybe it’s just a fluke.”

Ginny snorted. “Tell that to the Harpies.” Harry looked sweet in his sweatpants and loose tee, but Ginny didn’t want sweet right now. “I need some air. Will you watch the boys?”

“Gin,” he whispered.

“Please?” she said, slightly more rough than the first time.

Harry blew out a breath. “Yeah, I’ll watch the boys.”

With that, Ginny turned on her heel and marched outside. The air was brisk, but the sun was out. A nice day for October. She spun and landed in the bustling streets of Diagon Alley, the bright colors of her brother’s shop nearly blinding her. Not bothering with the annoyed looking women she’d almost run into, she opened the door and tried to adjust to the cacophony of noise.

There was always laughter in George’s shop, mainly kids’ laughter, which Ginny thought was good for him. Then there were the small explosions by the fireworks section, a whole new line of WWW products that Ginny thought was long overdue. Of course, there were the parents complaining, but Ginny never understood why they’d bring their kids into a shop like this if they were going to complain about it.

Finally, Ginny found her brother behind the counter. He was grinning down at a little kid who was rambling on about Canary Creams. His brown eyes were filled with laughter, and there was a grin on his face. Even now, Ginny was surprised at how bright it was. She suspected his wife and son had something to do with that.

“I need to talk to you,” Ginny said, interrupting the seven-year-old.

The kid’s mouth fell open as he stared at her. “You’re the famous Quidditch player.”

Ginny ground her teeth. “No shit.” She pointed at George. “I need to speak to the owner.”

The kid finally took the hint and scampered off, though he did cast a longing look over his shoulder.

“Ginny Potter, scaring her young fans more than You-Know-Poo,” George quipped as he rested his hands on the counter. “What can I do for you?”

“Where’s your fucking wife?” she asked, ignoring George’s attempt at small talk.

Her brother reeled back slightly, his eyes narrowing. “What do you want with her?” Normally, George was the first person to back Ginny up – one of her loudest supporters – even when she was wrong. The reverse was also true; she’d yelled at her mum for berating George even when he’d been plastered and ruining their family dinner. It was a closeness that had developed and strengthened after Fred passed. The only person who could change that was Angelina. George had always been defensive of her, perhaps because their mother was always too protective of them.

Normally, Ginny would admire that. Today, it just furthered her annoyance.

“Doesn’t matter,” she said, narrowing her eyes and leaning across the counter toward him. “Where is she?”

George made the wise choice to lean away from her. Then he turned and, Ginny assumed, went to find Angelina. Her annoyance continued to build as tapped her foot. A few people turned to look at her, and she wished she had thrown on a better outfit. When she’d woken up, she’d just thrown on some sweats and an old Harpies shirt that was stretched out around the collar.

Angelina appeared walking around the corner, George just behind her. Ginny’s sister-in-law always looked fabulous. Today was no exception. She was sporting a pair of tight jeans and an AC/DC shirt matched with a pair of black boots. Her braids were pulled up into a top knot that Ginny wished she could pull off.

“Hey,” Angelina said when she reached her. “What’s up?”

Ginny glanced over at her hovering brother. “Let’s take a walk.”

She didn’t bother to see if Angelina followed her as she turned on her heel and headed for the door of the shop. When she walked through the door and headed toward the Leaky Cauldron, Angelina fell into step beside her.

“So, how’s life?” Angelina said.

That wasn’t what she meant Ginny knew. Angelina used small talk as a way to get at the deeper issues; it was all in her tone. It was also one of the reasons Ginny liked her so much.

“Fine,” she answered briskly. “Got a question for you.”

Angelina stuffed her hands in her pockets. “Sure.”

Ginny stopped in front of the Leaky Caldron and faced Angelina. “What was it like when they told you couldn’t play Quidditch anymore?”

Angelina reared back in shock. It wasn’t something that she discussed often, but everyone knew that Angelina had been robbed of a professional Quidditch career before it could begin. She’d been blown back into a wall during the Battle of Hogwarts and taken a lot of damage to her spine. The Healers told her that one wrong hit from a Bludger, and she’d never play walk again.

So, Angelina had chosen a career in the Department of Magical Games and Sports, where she worked on laws that pertained to the sport and sometimes scored tickets to the bigger games throughout the season. Ginny had always wondered though; was she jealous of all those other players? Jealous of the dream she never got to chase? Angelina had never seemed bitter and it always intrigued Ginny.

“I mean, I was upset,” Angelina said, crossing her arms. “I’d trained to become a pro before the war, and it was fucking hard having to give that up.”

“And how did you figure out what you wanted to do after?” she asked.

Angelina shrugged. “I don’t know. The opportunity just kinda presented itself.” Her sister-in-law’s eyes narrowed. “Why are you asking me all these questions?”

Ginny looked away from her, spotting a young girl coming out of Quality Quidditch Supplies. She was carrying a small broom and talking excitedly with her mother about flying it when she got home.

“You probably already know that I took a bad fall in the last match.” Angelina nodded. “Well, I hit my head pretty hard when I landed, and I had my exam today to clear me to go back on the pitch.” Ginny pushed down the emotion that was rising in her throat. “But the Healer wouldn’t clear me.” She looked down at her feet. “She said that if I went back on the pitch and took a Bludger to the head or had another bad fall, there was a possibility of permanent brain damage.”

“Oh, Gin,” Angelina whispered.

“I don’t want your sympathy,” Ginny said roughly. If she wanted that, she would have gone home to her husband who would have held her while she sobbed about how the world wasn’t fair. What she wanted was to know how she moved on from here. For years, her only dream had been Quidditch. What did you do when your dreams were no longer obtainable?

“I know you don’t,” Angelina said. “But I’ve been there, and it’s . . . one of the worst feelings in the world. To know you were on the edge of having everything you wanted, only for it to be snatched away.” When Angelina grabbed her hands, Ginny finally looked at her. “And I’m so sorry, Ginny. You don’t deserve that.”

“So, tell me how you did it,” Ginny said.

Instead, Angelina pulled her into a hug. Silently, Ginny accepted it, letting the tension slowly leave her body. She had no idea how she was going to get past this. The building blocks of her life were crumbling around her, and though he might try, Harry couldn’t hold them together – no one could. So, Ginny held onto Angelina and buried her face in her neck.

“My life’s over,” she muttered.

“Your life’s not over,” Angelina said softly. “You’ve still got a family that loves you, and a brother who let you talk to his wife even though he thought you were going to beat her up.”

Ginny let out a muffled laugh. “I couldn’t beat you up.”

“You might come closer than you think.” Gently, Angelina untangled herself and offered Ginny a sad smile. “It won’t be easy, and it’s going to suck, but you’ll figure out what’s next. And then this moment will pale in comparison. Your life has just begun, Ginny. I promise.”

Nodding, she wiped at the tears that were still brimming in her eyes. “Yeah, alright.” She sniffed. “You should go before George sends out a search party.”

Angelina snorted. “He’s so overdramatic.”

“But he loves you.”

“Yeah, I guess he does.”

There was a found smile on Angelina’s lips, and Ginny couldn’t help the smile that started to form on her own.

“If you ever need to talk, come see me,” Angelina said. “No matter what time of day or night it is. I’ll be there.”

“I will,” she said. Then she Disapparated just as quickly as she had appeared. When she landed on the front porch of her house she could hear James screaming as Harry laughed. Al’s giggles were probably covered up by his brother and father. As she opened the door, she spotted Harry laying on the floor and James bouncing on his stomach. He was a ball of energy. Al was sitting on the couch laughing as he pointed at James. Merlin, her kids were amazing.

As she slipped inside, a grin overtook her face. Harry hadn’t noticed her, which was unusual because he was very observant, so she took this opportunity to watch them. As Harry reached up to tickle him, James let out a squeal and hopped up, running from the room.

“I’m gonna get you!” Harry shouted after him. James just squealed again and ran faster. Al was lowering himself slowly from the couch. Once he was on the floor, he toddled after his brother.

“You look happy.”

Harry’s head snapped toward her, his eyes softening at the sight of her. He pushed himself onto his elbows but didn’t get up or come towards her. A result of her pulling away from him earlier, no doubt.

“They were asking about you,” he said instead. “Wanted to know when you’d be back because apparently, you’re better at building forts than I am.”

“I am,” Ginny said proudly. She’d had six brothers to teach her how to do it properly. A soft smile settled over Harry’s face as he gazed at her. Within four strides, Ginny was in front of him and then she was over the top of him, sinking down to her knees so she could sit in his lap. Though he was surprised, he quickly recovered as his hands found the bottoms of her thighs. Gently, she rested her forehead against his.

“I know I’m not supposed to ask this,” he said, idly tracing patterns on her thigh. “But are you ok?”

“No,” she said simply. “But I will be.”

As she heard her son’s voice, she thought that maybe Angelina was right. Her life wasn’t over just yet.

#ginny weasley #harry potter #hinny #angelina johnson #george weasley #hp #hp12mom #twelve months of magic

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lifeofkaze · 5 months

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Stars Above

A/N: This story was written for @hp-12monthsofmagic November prompt "Remember, remember." Warning: dealing with grief, death of a family member

Castle Combe, 1979

“Orville, Gregory. Parish constable. 1671 - 1715.”

“Okay, how about this one?”

“Weaver Penelope. Seamstress. 1748 - 1782.”

“And this?”

The voices of the two children carried clearly through the older part of the Castle Combe graveyard. It wasn’t the most common place to play but people passing them by on their way into the old church of St Andrew's hardly took notice of their presence. The Campbell children had always been odd; no one really questioned them.

“Franklin, Edmond. Cheesemonger. 1815 - 1835. Struck dead by a cheese wheel falling onto his head.”

The little girl walking behind the rows of weathered graves stopped short in her tracks.

“You can’t possibly know that.”

“But I do.”

“How?”

The older boy, with the same gold-blond hair as his sister, drew his lips into a patient smile. “It’s called research, Ava.”

Ava made a frustrated noise. They had been playing for the better part of an hour now, and Jamie was five correctly guessed - no, not guessed; remembered - historical dates ahead of her. Her count had been better than average but she had messed up the baker’s daughter and the old vicar. Frustrated, she sank into the grass in front of Miller, Adelaide, 1813 - 1878.

“Why must you always be so clever?” she asked Jamie with a wrinkled nose.

“Runs in the family, I believe,” Jamie laughed, but not unkindly. “Maybe some of it will rub off on you eventually.”

“Sometimes I’m not so sure about that.” Ava paused. Quietly, she said, “It’s going to be lonely without you, once you’re back at school.”

“First term is only until Christmas. I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Promise?”

Jamie raised his hand towards Ava, little finger outstretched. “I’ll always be there for you, Ava. I’m your brother, am I not?”

Smiling, Ava hooked her little finger beneath her brother’s. “Forever?”

“For as long as there are stars above.”

1987

Castle Combe had gone dark. The wind had picked up earlier and was chasing heavy clouds over the sky. It lifted Ava’s hair off her shoulders as she slipped from her parents’ house unnoticed. Quietly, she walked through the deserted village streets. When she reached the graveyard, Jaime was already there.

He stood in front of the grave of Miller, Adelaide, pensively watching the stone that had only crumbled more and more since the last time he and Ava had visited the graveyard together.

“You’re back.”

Ava had stopped a good deal from her brother, having to raise her voice not to be drowned out by the hissing of the wind. It didn’t matter. Jamie had known she was there from the moment she had stepped foot onto the leaf-littered grass. He turned, a solemn expression on his face.

“I felt like there were some things I needed to explain.”

“Go on then.”

“I don’t think you understand what it meant to me, Ava,” he said, taking a step towards her. “The Vaults are a mystery, a myth, to all of our kind. This was my chance to find out something nobody has before, to be looked up to for what I’ve achieved.”

“I’ve always looked up to you.”

Jamie’s rush of words ceased. He fell quiet, until eventually he said urgently, as if he wanted desperately for Ava to believe him, “I never thought it would blow up like it did but I couldn’t stop. I needed to keep everybody safe.”

“You didn’t keep Olivia safe.”

She didn’t raise her voice but her words hit home regardless. The fire that had burned behind his eyes went out.

“No,” he echoed tonelessly. “No, it didn’t. But the toll needed to be paid. There was no other way.”

“Hadn’t you meddled with the Vaults to begin with, there would have been no need.”

“Why don’t you understand? I needed to know!”

He had moved forward, extending his hand toward Ava, who recoiled from him.

“There are more important things than what we want, Jamie.”

“Is there?” His eyes were flashing angrily. “As if you didn’t meddle. You followed all the clues, just like I did, and —“

“To find you, to save you! Because I thought you were my brother!”

“I am your brother, Ava,” Jamie said. His gaze had an intensity to them that would have made Ava shiver if not for the sheer force of her own will. “Believe what you will, but we’re alike, you and I. I will always be your brother…”

Ava closed her eyes, not wanting him to say the words.

“… for as long as there are stars above.”

She took a shuddering breath, making herself look the boy - the man - who had once been the centre of her world and was now a stranger in the eye. Her voice was icy as she spoke.

“You are no brother of mine.”

1988

As if to mock their grief, the sun shone down brilliantly and bright on the graveyard and the small group of mourners clad in black.

Not many people had come. It was mainly family who had gathered, some distant relatives and the odd person from the village but Ava was fine with it. Not like there were many people left to mourn her brother’s death.

The service in the cool shadows of St Andrew’s passed her by. Then they went outside, where the vicar continued droning on next to the hole in the ground that would soon harbour Jaime’s dead body. Ava kept her eyes fixed on it, as much to keep herself from snapping at the old man in front of her as to not look at the coffin waiting to be buried in the earth.

When the draw of the polished oakwood became too overwhelming she shifted, letting her eyes wander over the assembled mourners. Her relatives were there, Carolyn Pendleton with Ava’s aunts and uncles. Their - her - cousin Mina had tried taking her hand during the service earlier, but Ava had drawn away from her sympathy and pity.

Behind her, Ava’s parents were standing arm in arm, looking aged beyond their years. There was an almost physical tension extending from them towards her, burning with the need to hold her, hold onto their only remaining child, but Ava remained at a distance, just far enough to not seem strange and still be out of reach. She couldn’t bear to be touched; not by anyone, but especially not by them.

Not when it was her fault.

Everything was her fault.

Her uncles stepped forward to help lower the coffin into the ground as the mourners sang a solemn song, and Ava closed her eyes not to watch her brother’s remains disappear. Pictures flashed before her inner eye, of a dark, dark forest looming around her, and her brother’s voice telling her not to go there alone. She had thought she was clever enough, as clever as him, that she could handle finding the last Vault by herself, that she could handle the Vaults by herself.

She had been so wrong.

Rakepick had found her in a clearing, had stepped from the shadows as if she’d been a part of the darkness pervading the trees. She had drawn her wand and pointed it at Ava, eyes hard and gleaming. She had told her something about a curse, a blood toll that needed to be paid. That was what had been agreed; that was what needed to be honoured.

She had said more but Ava hadn’t understood a word. All she had seen was the glowing tip of Rakepick’s wand, aiming for her heart.

She hadn’t even known Jamie was there. She never heard his footsteps, or him shouting her name when he suddenly appeared, flinging himself between her and the curse, crumbling to the ground like a broken ragdoll.

Ava and Rakepick stared at each other, then at Jamie’s body lying on the ground. Hoarsely, Rakepick whispered, “The toll has to be paid, one way or another.”

Then, she disappeared.

She left behind deafening silence, only broken by a shuddering gasp as Ava moved forward. The gasp turned into a scream as she collapsed onto her brother’s dead body, crying, cursing, wanting him to come back, begging him to, but he didn’t, he couldn’t, he would never, never again.

Night had fallen when Ava snuck from her room and back toward the graveyard. There were flowers everywhere, left by the mourners and others who had come after the service had concluded. Ava stood over the colourful sea of petals and ribbons decking the freshly upturned earth, thinking how obscene it was to celebrate Jamie’s death in a way that his life never had been.

She sat down before the tombstone, drew her knees up to her chest and hugged them tightly. She stared at the letters etched into the stone without really seeing them, just looking, before finally - finally - the tears were starting to fall.

1999

The night was dark and drenched in rain. It fell from protruding roofs and hanging branches, cloaking the small village and its graveyard in a shroud of rainfall. Many fresh graves had been dug here lately but the one Ava was drawn to was older. She walked past the rows of crosses and stone angels like in a dream, her feet taking her on familiar paths, past memories of different times, a different life.

Orville, Gregory, parish constable.

Weaver, Penelope, seamstress.

Franklin, Edmond, unfortunate cheesemonger.

Then, Miller, Adelaide.

She stood, swallowing hard.

Campbell, Jamie.

It had been years since she’d been here. She stared at the grave in silence, barely recognising the plants and candles that had been set into the pitch-black earth. The cold wind coming from the East hit her bare neck, making the pendant resting against her skin feel like a lump of ice. Shivering, Ava wished for something to keep herself warm but there was nothing that would help. She covered the big red scar spanning her abdomen; she hadn’t felt warm in weeks.

“Things have changed,” she told Jamie’s gravestone. Her words rang through the silence of the graveyard, dropping to the ground with the rain still falling around her, heavy and cold. “I understand what you did now, and I’m sorry. For everything.”

She was met with silence. Ava closed her eyes, conjuring the memory of this same graveyard filled with hers and Jamie’s laughter. The pang of longing that hit her was so sharp that it almost made her gasp.

“I’m going to leave,” she continued quietly. “I have found a way to end it, once and for all. I have to, you know that. You always knew. It has to end. But I’m not sure if I’ll come back.” She paused. “I’m not sure if I’ll be able to.”

Reaching out, Ava touched the tombstone, fingers barely grazing its surface. Tears were burning in her chest but there weren’t any left to shed.

“I’m sorry, brother,” she whispered, words picked up and scattered into nothingness by the wind. “I’ll always remember you… as long as there are stars above.”

She took out her wand, her spell barely more than a breath. Then she turned and walked away without looking back, leaving behind a single amaryllis flower bowing its head to the rain falling from an ink-black, starless sky.

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #ava campbell #jamie campbell #ava is coming from the shadows and I'm (not only lowkey) loving it #hp12mom #twelve months of magic

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hphmmatthewluther · 9 months

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12 Months of Magic: July - Surprises

Just before the month is over, here's my @hp-12monthsofmagic post for July! Features an angy Cassandra and Jane having a surprisingly effective poker face.

What’s In a Name?

To say that Jane Luther had an interest in her extended family was something of an understatement. For the formative years of her life she had believed that the Luther family were an on the whole standard family without much going on, and that the name Luther was synonymous with the status quo. Then she’d met the Luther-Snydes, who to be brutally honest sort of blew the rest of her family out of the water. They had imaginations, they played together, they actually enjoyed themselves. Jane loved playing with her cousins, Rowan and Abigail Luther-Snyde, and loved listening to their parents’ stories of what they got up to at her age.

This curiosity extended to when she came to Hogwarts to learn magic. It seemed that a lot of people had heard about the exploits of Matthew Luther and his friends, and as a result a lot of them assumed that she was Matthew’s kid. They did share the same shade of brown hair, after all, and in time she had started off on her own series of adventures around the castle. It didn’t necessarily annoy her (in fact it often let her get her foot in the door when it came to starting a conversation), and she was happy to correct people who assumed incorrectly. There was, however, one downside to the Luther-Snydes being an extended family as opposed to immediate.

“I can’t believe I thought you might actually be their daughter!” guffawed Cassandra, not 24 hours after she, Jane, and her classmates had returned to Hogwarts for their second year. Surrounded by the Frey twins, she had immediately noticed Jane walking in for breakfast and proceeded to point her gloved finger at the girl before beginning to hurl insults her way.

“I mean really, it’s unbelievable that someone like you shares a surname with some of the greatest sorcerers to live.” she sneered.

Jane didn’t mind it too much; she’d had to deal with it for a few weeks at the tail end of their first year and now Cassandra was trying to get it going again. While her friends all looked aghast, Jane simply continued eating her breakfast.

“Oh, bother someone else for a change!” hissed Ivy, her hand ready to pull out her wand at a moment’s notice. Jane, however, shook her head.

“I get why she’d try comparing me to my wizarding relatives,” Jane explained. “They were really the talk of the school back in the 80s.”

Robyn, who had been eavesdropping from the Gryffindor table, came over with Kevin. “Hang on a second, this is what this is about?” she asked, her eyebrow raised at the gang of Slytherins. “A couple of wizards from the 80s?”

“Not just any old wizards!” Cassandra sighed, exasperated. “One of the greatest curse-breakers to ever live…Merula Snyde!”

Everyone else looked at her a little surprised. Except for Jane. Jane continued to eat her breakfast, chomping down on cereal with a smile.

Daniel cleared his throat. “I thought you were going for Matt-”

“Well that’s what a dimwit would go for because it’s her last name! I couldn’t care less if someone’s dad is Matthew Luther, but to have lived your life with Merula Snyde…”

Something changed as Cassandra continued speaking. She got a faraway look in her eye, a far cry from her normal arrogant glare. “She was the first one to try and crack the Cursed Vaults, Matthew had to be goaded into it by her, and she used that to her success! She never once followed the school’s dress code! Not once! She’s technically a Baroness of a province in Poland somewhere!”

Ivy chuckled. “Sounds like someone pays more attention to History of Magic lessons than they’d like to admit.”

Cassandra went slightly pink. “Don’t be silly. Those lessons make it all sound so boring. I grew up hearing stories about her, the way she’d break curses and not care what anybody thinks! She’s an inspiration to me! And thus, I would respect anyone actually related to her, and not anyone who’s her husband’s cousin’s daughter.”

Jane finally finished her breakfast. Putting down her spoon, she looked over at Cassandra. “You’ve thought a lot about how much you and her are alike, right? Both parts of Slytherin, both refusing to listen to anyone else, et cetera et cetera…”

“Of course!” Cassandra replied proudly. “While our fashion choices differ, the rest of our outlook on life is the same.”

“Sure, provided you’re talking about how she started out. As opposed to how she graduated Hogwarts as far less of a bully.” Jane said, simply, her expression indecipherable.

Cassandra simply scowled. “Oh, and since when were you such an expert on Merula Snyde, hmm?”

“Since talking to her during the summer.” Jane explained. “Their eldest son is coming to Hogwarts, so wanted to know what it was like…and if the kids were as mean as she was when she was young.”

“Th-that proves nothing! Nobody would want their own child to be picked on!” Cassandra screeched across the gap between Slytherin and Ravenclaw table, “If it weren’t for her “bullying” the Cursed Vaults wouldn’t have been broken! She was the most powerful witch at Hogwarts and knew it! She was better than everyone else! She was…she was…what?”

Jane had covered her mouth, presumably to hide her smile. Daniel, Ivy, Kevin and Robin’s eyes were all as wide as dinner plates. Fischer and Colby Frey slowly stepped away and ran. Cassandra slowly turned around to see a woman in her thirties wearing black combat boots, a matching black leather jacket over a red flannel shirt. But what was most striking were her facial features. She had dark pink eyes and short messy hair, with a flash of orange hair sticking out just above the midpoint between her eyes. Cassandra looked up at Merula. Merula looked down at Cassandra.

“To be honest…” she said, scratching her head with a smile. “A lot of that stuff was just for show.”

Cassandra had frozen like a deer in the headlights (not that she’d know what headlights were). She raised her hand up, waving it up and down as if that’d help her remember how to speak. “Y-You’re…b-but…that’s not…how did…”

Merula chuckled. “It’s all right. I was a lot like that when I was a kid. The same thing happened to me, actually, started mouthing off about how great I was right behind Professor Snape. It was unbelievably embarrassing.”

Cassandra blinked once or twice before asking a quiet, awed. “W-Why are you here?! D-Did Jane-”

“Jane suggested I come out here because I’d get to have some fun. Which I did. But now you get something that I would have killed for at your age: some decent pointers in the right direction.”

Cassandra took a breath, trying to collect herself. “I…I’ve always wanted to be like you…to take control of my own life and be on top after so long being…” she trailed off, scowling at herself. Daniel was going to say something, but Jane stopped him, shaking her head.

Merula nodded. “I heard, yes. The kids you were in a creche with…they made fun of your name?”

Cassandra stared at the floor. “Mmh…Vole…they said I looked like one, like some kind of weird rat.”

Robyn had to be stopped from supporting that claim by Kevin. Jane just stared, thinking about a time a few months ago when she’d seen Cassandra spend days agonising about a rash she’d got in on her cheek in Herbology.

Merula just nodded. “Kids will be cruel, especially if they find an excuse, even a flimsy one like that. I got flack for my name too. Snyde. People said it fit me too well, so I decided I’d try and prove them right. It never ended up making me happy. Look, I’m not gonna tell you not to pick on people, because that never works. I’ll just say that one day, you’ll find something that fills that hole far more than name-calling ever did.” she sighed, shaking her head again. “Eesh, that sounded cheesy. I’ve been spending too much time with Professor Khanna. Just…don’t take any crap but don’t be a prick about it. Easy enough?”

Cassandra nodded so fast that the Freys looked worried her head might come off. “Of course, thank you, um…but what were you doing here in the first place?”

Merula’s pink eyes wandered to the one table that hadn’t been involved in the conversation. Sitting there talking to a small group of friends was a boy with brown hair like Jane’s, but striking pink eyes like Merula’s too. “I just wanted to make sure Rowan was doing ok. As an ex-teacher I have those perks, see.”

Cassandra watched as Rowan looked at the group, saw his mother, and waved a little. He waved to Jane, too, but immediately looked away when it came to Cassandra. She scowled once more, but it soon faded. “...I’m…I should go to Potions…Mer-, um, Miss Snyde, thank you for the advice, I, um…” she looked around nervously, before:

“Could I get your autograph?!” she said, so loud that most people in the Great Hall almost jumped out of their seats. Jane looked on with a sense of pride, knowing that while Merula’s talk probably wouldn’t shake Cassandra out of her pattern of rumour-mongering about her friends forever, it would definitely leave her wide-eyed until at least lunchtime tomorrow.

#hp12mom #12 months of magic #hpma #jane luther #cassandra vole #merula snyde #rowan luther-snyde #ivy warrington #daniel page #robyn thistlethwaite #kevin farrell

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slytherindisaster · 1 year

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As silly as it is, here's an appreciation edit for game!Jazzie ✨️

Also, entering this as a part of @hp-12monthsofmagic challenge for February's theme "All You Need Is Love".

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #hp12mom #lizzie parker #jae kim #jazzie #my edit #i do hope to make another entry for this month's prompt #but just in case i won't make it in time here's an edit

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hp-12monthsofmagic · 8 months

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“Term begins on the 1st of September.”

The Hogwarts Express leaves today, and so this month’s theme is inspired by its destination…

Hoggy Warty Hogwarts

This theme is open to your interpretation. Anyone is welcome to contribute work, and all kinds of creations are welcomed. Work does need to be appropriately tagged and have this blog tagged. All posts added before the end of the month will be added to the 12 Months of Magic Masterlist.

Happy creating!

#hp12mom #harry potter fan art #harry potter fanfiction

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whatwouldvalerydo · 1 year

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A bitter sense of victory

Years after the battle, those who have survived still have to live with the trauma.

Part of the @hp-12monthsofmagic May challenge.

Warnings: mentions of death, blood, dark vibes here

Her focus never wavered as she stared her enemies in the face, the hoard of Death Eaters far grander than the number of opponents left outside to face. Talia knew that the first line almost always perished. Like lambs to the slaughter, but she was no lamb.

She was a wild beast, charging into battle with a blade in one hand and fire in another, eyes of fury staring them down as they approached. Her body knew what needed to be done, her mind not once wavering.

She could drown the sounds, not be distracted by a friend falling next to her. The constant sounds died slowly one by one as she concentrate on her breathing, ducking to avoid a direct attack. A blast next to her made her squint her eyes slightly and then all was silence and nothingness.

She was alone, left between hundreds of corpses piled up in the main courtyard. Looking down at her hands, blood painted her skin in thick coats. Wiping at her skin, it helped little as the crimson liquid made sickening sloshing sound, molding between her trembling fingertips.

Staring around, she called out, however upon opening her mouth, her voice refused to leave her throat.

She could not move when she tried to take a step, her eyes casting downwards to see several hands constricted against her legs, those she could not help hanging on to her with rigid limbs, eyes wide open in horror.

Reaching for her blade, she cut and cut, the sound of skin splitting apart scratching against her ears, a sound like no other.

“Talia.” A voice called out to her, however as she looked around, she was still alone, senses invaded by different smells followed by the sounds of a battle no longer being fought before her “Talia.”

Again a voice called, this time Talia sitting in front of a Death Eater she had hunted down, his wand at the ready, spell leaving the tip, hitting her directing in the stomach, sending her flying back.

She was alone, in pain, tears streaming down the sides of her face as she stared at the dark sky, hands reaching out to press against her stomach, fright making her completion pale. The baby, anything but her baby.

A scream erupted from her throat, warmth invading her as her healing powers travelled through her veins.

Being jolted awake, she squinted her eyes at the bright light in the room, Talbott running a hand across her sweaty face “It’s alright, just a nightmare.”

Feeling the baby kick, she closed her eyes, placing her hand over her belly, a sigh of relief breaking through the panic of her hectic heart.

“More like night terror. I don’t know what’s up with me, but ever since the eight month, it’s been worse.”

Leaving the bed, Talbott ventured to the kitchen, bringing her a glass of water. Sitting next to her on the bed, he offered her a reassuring smile “The battle again?”

“That and more.” She sighed placing a glass aside after drinking a few sips.

“It’s almost May, probably why.”

Scoffing, she adjusted her position “I don’t even know what day it is since going on maternity leave. I can’t sleep in any position, I’m moody, my back hurts. I just want this to end and rest.”

Chuckling, he placed a hand on her stomach as well, knowing fully well there wouldn’t be much sleep with a new born “To be fair I’m so happy I managed to convince you to take leave at seven months. I honestly thought you would be fighting bad guys until giving birth.”

She smiled, however her eyes appeared to darken “I would have. There are so many bad people out there Talbott and I am but one. We won the war, but there will always be something, someone.”

Cupping her cheeks, he placed a small kiss against her forehead “You can’t fight everyone, even though you wish to. It’s not on you.”

She bit down on her lip, refusing to say anything more. He was right, but not fully. Because she would still live to see other wars break out and she would be there to fight them.

For all eternity.

#hp12mom #Talia Crane #talbott winger #hphm

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usernoneexistent · 1 year

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What is victory when the aftermath shows only survivors...

My entry for Victory by @hp-12monthsofmagic

#hp12mom #hogwarts mystery #juniper moss #was in the feels #post battle of hogwarts #dont want to reveal too much cause i have plans for the future

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marmotish · 1 year

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Life’s a Witch

@hp-12monthsofmagic

María Soledad Rivera Santos and her twin daughters Elena (left) and Lidia (right), circa 1955.

A small tribute to Freyja’s grandmother who, when life gave her lemons, robbed and cursed the family she worked for and escaped to the UK alone.

Maria Soledad, better known as Marisol, was well aware of just how much of a bitch life could be. Despite being born with magical abilities, she was never formally educated on how to perform magic. From age 14, she worked as a domestic servant to a Spanish pureblood family. She befriended the youngest son, Luis Ángel, who over the course of several years tried to teach her some magic from his lessons and textbooks.

She worked for the family for 7 years, the last few of which she’d been in a secret relationship with Luis Ángel. While she hadn’t expected outpourings of joy from an unplanned pregnancy, she didn’t expect to be utterly betrayed by her lover. When his family found out about the relationship and resulting “little accident”, they accused her of bewitching him, hoodwinking him to succumb to her will. And what did he do? Agree with them. In the end, she had nobody to turn to for help.

Now she didn’t have a wand. Never owned one, tried one a few times with disastrous results. But what she did have was an extraordinary ability for wandless hexes and curses. So she put the house under a short-term sleeping spell, cleaned their house out of their most valuable treasures, cursed them for good measure, and ran away. She knew that escaping to a foreign country where she knew next to nothing about the culture and language was a risky move, but she also knew that if it meant her children would have a better life and education than she did, she would do it a million times over.

Fast forward 10 years, she had near-fluency in English, regular employment, a safe secluded home in Skye, two healthy daughters, and an overwhelming sense of pride and satisfaction. Life hadn’t been without its struggles, it was indeed a bitch — but it hadn’t counted on this witch.

#hogwarts mystery #hp12mom #hp-12monthsofmagic #i can’t ever remember if i gave her a surname(s) so now this is it i guess #marisol rivera santos #elena rivera #lidia rivera

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madelineorionswan · 11 months

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Victory

May's entry for @hp-12monthsofmagic

A/N: This story is my first hphm story after a long while of not writing any of it, and I hope everyone enjoys this. Also, the topic of this story is fascinating to me as I have just gone through this scenario in my life, and I'm sure everyone has had this particular experience. That being said I hope you guys enjoy this story 😊.

Summary: After the OWLs, it is finally result-time for the students of Hogwarts. But before the grande finale, the students go through a series of tension-filled moments.

Warnings: Mentions of exam stress, exams and stress in general.

It was another day at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The Great Hall was filled with students, busy chatting and having breakfast. Madeline and her friends were among those students. They all were laughing and talking, as usual, occasionally bringing up their ideas about the cursed vaults, as they always did.

Safe to say that the Great Hall quite literally sounded like a busy marketplace.

"Attention students Professor Dumbledore has an important announcement for all of you," The Great Hall was suddenly silenced by Professor Mcgonagal's loud and clear voice. The students faced the Professors expectantly and silently as Professor Dumbledore nodded at Professor McGonagall, who moved aside to let him address the students.

"Allow me to be the first to congratulate you all on a momentous occasion", Professor Dumbledore said with a small smile gracing his face, "all fifth years have survived your OWLs, thereby taking a significant step in your journey of learning here, at Hogwarts. Your results will be out soon, but till then, all classes will be held as usual."

The Hall immediately broke into collective gasps of excitement and nervousness as everyone started to whisper amongst themselves. Professor Dumbledore smiled to himself and stepped back to sit at the teacher's table. He couldn't deny that the circumstances were quite amusing to watch as they had been for the past couple of years. And this year was going to be quite an intriguing experience to see.

---

"Can you believe results will be out soon?" Penny gushed as the girls walked out of the great hall after the bombshell had been dropped about the results.

"I know. Well, I just hope I pass," Madeline concluded, not expecting much in the first place. But she hoped that her results were at least decent.

"I'm really hoping to get at least exceeds expectations in all of them," Penny said and Madeline and Rowan nodded in agreement.

"I always said that marks do not matter in life. At the end of the day, these marks are just writing on a piece of paper," Charlie shrugged while the others agreed with him.

"It would've been fine if it was just that, but this "piece of paper" decides our entire futures at our jobs and our life," Talbott pointed out as the others sighed but mentally agreed with his point. Even the most nonchalant person would have to admit that the results would have a significant effect on their careers and lives.

"You've been quiet, Ro. Is everything alright?" Madeline asked her best friend, who had been silent since this morning.

As if she had suddenly been brought out of deep thought, Rowan nodded briskly in reply.

"If you say so," Madeline narrowed her eyes with suspicion, not believing that Rowan was fine. But she knew Rowan wouldn't open up right now so she let it slide.

"Alright then, see you guys at the Three Broomsticks as usual?" Madeline asked her friends, to which they all agreed to meet as usual that evening after classes.

But who knew that the rest of the day would end up being an excruciatingly long one.

---

Madeline, Andre and Barnaby were in their charms classes, practising defence spells which Professor Flitwick had demonstrated earlier. After successfully executing the hexes when Professor Flitwick reviewed them (save for Barnaby accidentally almost freezing the professor with Glacius, which he narrowly escaped), they were all allowed to return to their places and unwind.

"Now that everyone has executed the hexes more or less successfully," Professor Flitwick glared at Barnaby from the corner of his eye, making the boy chuckle and scratch the back of his neck nervously. The professor then continued, "Since we have a few minutes at hand, I suggest we all discuss the questions of your OWLs."

Everyone groaned with annoyance, causing Professor Flitwick to tut at them. He used his wand to summon a question paper from one of the many stacks of books in his hand and started to read the questions aloud. The students all took out their books and their scrolls to note down some key points of the answers.

But every question and answer the professor read aloud differed from what most students remembered writing in their answers. Madeline and Andre scrambled to write down the answers on their scrolls while Barnaby looked at them, confused.

"I thought you said, marks didn't matter to you?" he asked, confused.

"I have a reputation to maintain Barnaby. What do you think people will say when they hear that the next biggest fashion sensation got trolls in his OWLs?!" Andre replied pointedly. Both the boys then turned to Madeline who was busy writing down the answers in her scroll.

"What?" Madeline looked at the boys incredulously, when she felt them staring at her, "just because the marks doesn't matter to me doesn't mean that it won't matter to the person who's gonna check my files for when I apply to be an auror."

"It would matter?" Barnaby asked, muddled.

"I think she means that the marks matter when it comes to getting a dream job, Barns," Andre explained to which Barnaby replied with a silent "oh". Soon everyone was starting to feel the pressure of receiving their expected marks. And they all started to think about what would happen if they didn't get what they had expected. They would surely have a lot to think about then and they certainly wouldn't be nice thoughts.

---

In care of magical creatures class, the students were going through a similar turmoil, except professor kettleburn wasn't the one adding fuel to the fire. It was the students themselves.

Some students were busy tending to the magical creatures as they had been intsructed by the professor before he whisked off to god knows where. Other's on the other hand were busy talking about how the "OWLs had been so easy even a baby could easily solve without even breaking into sweat". And among those students was namely Merula.

"Oh please! They couldn't set a harder paper? I was expecting some intense questions my way!' Merula scoffed loudly. Ismelda chuckled dryly as some of the other students started conversing about the papers.

Penny had been rather cool minded this morning. But Merula's constant mocking comments wasn't helping her stay calm like before. Charlie on the other hand, well, Penny wasn't even sure he had payed attention to who else was in class.

"Atleast some of us are actually confident in what they wrote in their answers rather than some who pretend to be confident," Merula rolled her eyes, "Isnt that right, Haywood?"

Penny humphed and turned to feed the bowtruckle who had been distracted while playing with her hair. Merula was clearly getting under her skin and she was started to get frazzled.

"How are you dealing with the stress Charlie?" Penny asked, trying to defuse the tension.

"What stress?" Charlie asked, furrowing his brows a little.

"What do you mean? I'm sure you're at least a little nervous about the results," Penny said, chuckling nervously.

"Well, whatever I wrote in the test is what I'm gonna get. I don't really bother much about it," the ginger-haired teen shrugged as he tried to feed the baby Diricawl, who was apparating and disapparating, "besides, these marks won't affect my work skills. The work is what really matters after all."

Penny scoffed and stood up to pick up the animal food bucket, making Charlie chuckle at her antics as she stomped off to return the bucket.

"Look who seems frazzled," Merula smirked and stopped Penny in her path.

"Go away Merula," Penny protested, trying to move aside but Merula just blocked her way again.

"Not so confident about your results, are you, Haywood? Well, at least some people know their true worth, unlike you," Merula mocked

"Maybe some people who know their worth, don't feel like flaunting it," Charlie shouted back, making everyone face him.

"Besides, if you're so confident about knowing all the answers, I'm sure you would be open to discussing it in class, Merula," Charlie challenged Merula, who seemed to have backed off.

Not wanting to ruin her reputation, Merula frowned angrily and let Penny go. Penny smiled proudly at her friend, who smirked confidently. After returning the creature's food, Penny and Charlie left to go to the castle

"You know, What I meant by saying that these marks don't matter, ain't that the work you put in doesn't matter. It's just that, if you did bad on this one, it doesn't mean your world is over," Charlie said.

"Yeah, you're right. It only matters if I let my failures define me. And that is something we do not do," Penny replied, smiling and high-fived Charlie. The two then snuck off to the kitchens to grab a snack before their next classes and a few more hours of terror.

---

After climbing a lifetime of stairs, Talbott and Rowan finally reached their astronomy class with Professor Sinistra.

"Take a seat, students. Today, we will learn about different star formations and their relations to the muggle zodiac signs," Professor Sinistra turned to the open night sky and began pointing to different constellations and describing them.

Talbott and Rowan, as usual, answered most of the questions asked by the professor, seeing as they were the only ones who were interested. After a long star-gazing session, she dismissed the class. Rowan and Talbott picked up their books and scrolls and left the towers to go to their common rooms.

"So, how are you feeling about the results Rowan Khanna?" Talbott asked out of the blue.

Rowan stopped for a moment and looked at Talbott. "I guess I feel okay," She replied and started to descend the stairs.

"You don't feel... anything? Like excitement or nervousness?" Talbott asked.

"Are you nervous, Talbott?" Rowan asked back. Talbott was a little taken aback.

"I guess I feel this nervousness, not about what I'm gonna get, but more about what's gonna happen afterwards. It's intimidating but exciting at the same time," Talbott replied with a sigh and shrug.

Rowan nodded in agreement. She too had a similar feeling. She knew that she wouldn't be getting less than exceeds expectation, but there was this odd feeling. Almost like a rock on her chest when she thought about her results. But she couldn't exactly pinpoint what she felt like. Talbott had just put the feeling into words for her.

"The only way to overcome it, I guess, is to experience it. I've read several books that say once you go through an obstacle, you get more used to the emotions associated with it," Rowan concluded, Talbott nodded in agreement but then replied, "I guess I'll just walk it off for now."

He descended the stairs before disappearing near the Ravenclaw Tower's entrance. Rowan turned left for the Gryffindor common room, feeling like she might be coming to terms with her emotions about this experience.

---

It was late in the evening when Bill had completed his homework. He looked at the clock in his dorm and, realising how late he was, quickly threw on a shirt and trousers and jogged down the stairs. What he saw when he went down to the common room, amused and confused him.

Madeline was lying on the couch in front of the fireplace with a book on her face while Rowan sat at her feet, meditating, her face scrunched up in concentration. Charlie, on the other hand, was busy studying some old diagrams of dragons with Ben, who was nervously biting his nails.

"Please don't tell me the other like this too", Bill said, shaking his head dismissively.

"Unfortunately, everyone decided to bail out and stay back at their dorms", Rowan replied, not bothering to open her eyes to look.

"And with good reason! You should have seen Professor Flitwick's class today", Madeline groaned with annoyance.

"Madie, you can't change what you did in the test," Rowan tried to console her, but Madeline groaned with defeat.

"Rowan, how can you be so calm when we are about to face one of the biggest changes in your life?!" Ben asked, confused as he started to get even more nervous.

"Ben, buddy, you need to calm down. Getting back your OWL results isn't that big of a thing, y'know," Charlie patted Ben's back to calm him, although it didn't help much.

Bill chuckled amusedly, shaking his head as he sat on a couch beside the bigger one. "You guys are acting just like us back when we were going to get our results," he said, "now do you get what we had to go through," Bill looked at Charlie pointedly. Charlie just rolled his eyes in reply, now regretting the times he had told Bill he was overreacting. He knew his older brother was going to tease him nonstop after this.

"Look, guys, there's no use worrying. You can't change what you did in your test. It's best to just not listen to what anyone else has to say and just go through the thing personally,” Bill advised. But all he got was a nod from Rowan while the rest just groaned.

Bill shook his head. He knew they needed to hear this, whether they liked it or not. But he also knew it would be hard for them to accept it. It had been the same for him. Soon it was time for dinner, and the group headed downstairs with the rest of the students to receive their much-dreaded results.

The Great Hall was silent and oddly so. It was very rarely that everyone remained quiet in there. But the impending news of the results had everyone busy with their thoughts. After a hushed and anxious meal, everyone turned to the teacher's table expectantly. Professor Dumbledore looked at the other teachers with a smile which everyone answered with a nod. Finally, Professor Dumbledore stood up in his place to make the much-awaited announcement.

“To all fifth years, when you step out of the Great Hall, don’t forget to collect your results from the professors. I have been reminded to tell you to be a little less boisterous, but there won’t be any consequences if you are. But I would remind you all that whatever result you receive, I want you all to know that this isn’t the end of the world. These marks are an indication of what you are capable of achieving, but they do not represent who you are and what you can become,” Dumbledore spoke solemnly, but the twinkle in his eye never faded nor did his small smile.

After dinner, everyone was escorted back to the common rooms by their prefects. After completing their duties, Charlie and Madeline went to get their result papers from Professor McGonagall at her office. The professor handed them their results, her expression not showing any of her emotions. They then returned to the common room to find it to be a literal circus. All the Gryffindor fifth years were busy conversing about their results. Some faces were bright with excitement, while others showed disappointment. The pair looked around for a bit and found Ben, Bill and Rowan waiting for them at a corner.

“It’s now or never, I suppose,” Madeline sighed once she and Charlie approached the group. They all shared a look between themselves before nervously ripping open their envelopes.

When Madeline looked at her results, she couldn’t believe what she saw. She had gotten “Exceeds Expectations” in all of her subjects! Even in potions! She let out a relieved breath that she had unconsciously held onto, her eyes lighting up. She looked to see the same happiness on Ben and Charlie’s face. Charlie smiled brightly as he showed Bill his result card. Bill smiled proudly and hugged his brother tightly. Ben too looked happy although mostly relieved.

But Rowan’s face showed disappointment and shock. Madeline quickly moved to sit beside her and looked at her results. As expected, all of them were brilliant as usual, except one. In Transfiguration, one of Rowan’s favourite classes, she had gotten an “Acceptable”.

“I-I don’t know what went wrong. I was so confident about this," Rowan couldn't complete her words because of Madeline’s tight hug.

“It’s okay, you did your best,” Madeline said hugging her best friend, “Besides, this test can never justify how brilliant you are as a friend and as a student. Let bygones be bygones, Ro.”

Rowan nodded as a small smile crept upon her face. Although she wasn't fully convinced, Madeline's words provided her with some comfort. Madeline knew she would get over this. It would take some time but eventually, she would get better.

“This victory calls for a celebration,” Madeline declared, “Butterbeers on Bill, no questions asked,” she pointed at Bill, who laughed but agreed to the terms.

It indeed was the greatest victory of the month.

#charlie weasley #hphm mc #madeline orionswan #hogwarts mystery #hphm #rowan khanna #penny haywood #ben copper #andre egwu #talbott winger #merula snyde #barnaby lee #hogwarts #hphm fanfiction #hp12mom

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the-al-chemist · 5 months

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Maybe just once a year… just for an hour or something… we could pretend we were close… we would be close… As long as I live, I’ll come… As long as I live… Philip Pullman, The Amber Spyglass

A little bit of heartbreak for @hp-12monthsofmagic’s November prompt, Remember, Remember…

#artemis hexley #rowan khanna #hogwarts mystery #harry potter fanart #hphm fanart #hp12mom

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unfortunate-arrow · 5 months

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𝓗𝓮 𝓘𝓼𝓷’𝓽 𝓒𝓸𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓑𝓪𝓬𝓴

A/N: For @hp-12monthsofmagic’s November prompt (“Remember, Remember”). Set at Whitethorn Hall in April 1892. Involves discussions of death, grief, and funerals.

The day of the funeral dawned within the midst of a blustery storm. Rain blew sideways, splattering against the windows. Wind howled, as if embodying their pain. Edmund Kennedy, aged 11, had watched the storm roll in. The firelight flickered, illuminating the study. It had barely been touched in the three days since Ferdia Kennedy’s sudden death. The only thing that had been moved was the family’s ledger, which was meant to go to the family’s hastily hired estate manager. The ledger lay draped on Edmund’s chest, and that was how Alice Kennedy found her eldest child a few hours later.

“Neddy, Ned.” Alice gently shook the boy’s shoulder. Edmund jerked away, blinking rapidly.

“Mother,” he murmured.

“Why weren’t you in bed?”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“Oh, Neddy.”

He fought the hug that came on next. He was the man of the house now. It was time that he acted like it. His mother had six other children to look after… and was expecting an eighth. She needn’t worry about him.

“I’m fine, Mother.”

“Edmund.”

“I’m fine,” he repeated, forcefully.

“Okay.” Alice eyed her eldest warily. “Can I trouble you to check on Walter?”

“Yes. Shall I help him prepare for mourning?”

“That would be wonderful, darling.”

Edmund nodded, stretching as he stood up from the wingback study chair. His mother kissed his head and left the room. He set the ledger down on the desk, exactly where he had found it… in the last place his father had put it. He still couldn’t shake the image of his father’s last breath. His father’s words echoed his head with the promise he’d made to look after Ma and Minerva and the rest.

Meanwhile, in the window seat of the library, Minerva Kennedy, also aged eleven, sat watching the storm rage. Firelight flickered nearby, illuminating the small notebook and quill that lay, untouched, in her lap. Her muse had fizzled out around the time the storm had rolled in. She couldn’t make herself get up, though. The storm was captivating, in such the way that the gothic novels she pretended to hate were captivating. It did seem like the weather was reflecting the storm inside the house, though.

“Minerva?”

She startled at the voice of her mother, turning to face the woman. Her mother looked tired, the firelight seeming to reflect dark circles underneath her eyes.

“Mama, are you alright?” she asked.

Alice sighed, crossing the room and gently lowered herself down onto the window seat. “I’m doing alright, love. As well as can be expected. How are you doing?”

“I think I’m alright. Neddy’s the one that’s not alright.”

“Your brother is doing as well as he can be. It’s not your responsibility to worry about him, darling.”

“He’s my twin.”

“I know. He was very close with your father and it hurts.”

“Papa was the best. Do you remember how he used to play pranks during holiday and birthday dinners?”

Alice let out a laugh. “He did love to make us laugh.”

Minerva sighed softly. “I miss him. I keep thinking he’s gonna be in whatever room I enter or that he’s just hiding in his study but Ned’s the only one there.”

“I know. I keep expecting him to be there too.”

“Mama, are you sad that the baby’s not gonna know Papa?”

“Yes, I am Minerva. I keep thinking that maybe I’ll name this little one after him if this baby’s a boy. Ferdia might be in Ned’s name, but it’s only a middle name.”

“I hope the baby’s a girl. Because Walter and Ned can be very annoying.”

Alice laughed, pulling her daughter into a tight hug. “Your father thought that I was going to have another girl. I think he liked just having Ned, Walter, and all you girls.

“The funeral’s in a few hours, though. I need you to go get ready. Neddy said he’d help Walter. Can I trouble you to help out Eliza and Nan?”

“Sure, Mama. Just for today.”

“Of course, darling.”

In the hours leading up to and during the funeral, the storm had cleared up enough for a procession to be held as the Kennedy family led the mourners down to the family cemetery. Ferdia Kennedy was to be buried next to his grandfather, Nolan Kennedy.

Edmund led the procession, followed closely by his mother, sister, and brother. It hadn’t been an easy decision to make, but letting her son lead the procession had been the right decision. Ned needed this more than any of her other children. He’d been so close to Ferdia, had been the only one there when Ferdia had drawn his last breath. It wouldn’t surprise Alice if her son could now see thestrals. Minerva had been close to being there too, but she had raced to the house to call for help. Alice herself had fainted when she’d heard the news. But here they were, burying the man who had been pretty much an equal partner in life. Burying her beloved husband and a beloved father of eight, although he’d only known seven of his children.

#hp12mom #edmund kennedy #minerva kennedy #alice kennedy #hp victorian era #hphl #my writing #my aesthetic #the kennedy fortescue family

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lifeofkaze · 10 months

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Say No to This

A/N: This story can be read as a standalone short, or in context with this story here. This was written for the June prompt of the @hp-12monthsofmagic challenge, which I took a little more liberally in my interpretation this time. Warning: Horrid abuse of the French language. It's been a while.

“Quite the show out there, isn’t it?”

“It’s impressive,” Dana nodded, turning away from the rumble of voices filling the arena. She had never before seen a duelling ground this packed, the benches filled up to the top with witches and wizards from all across Europe. It was the opening tournament of the international season, and everyone had come to see the show. “Is it always this full?”

“It’ll be even fuller once the round is in full swing,” Michaela Morrison, coach of the Scottish National team, replied, “what with the World Cup just around the corner and all that.”

The World Cup. Dana let the word sit on the tip of her tongue for a moment. She had dreamed of attending them since she’d been a student at Hogwarts, and now she was courted by both the English and the Scottish teams, vying for her allegiance. The Scots had gone as far as taking her backstage with them as their guest, which was exactly where Dana was at.

“Technically, the season has already started,” Michaela broke Dana from her thoughts, “but there’s still one name left I can call up for my line-up. You know that, don’t you?”

Dana tensed. Of course she knew; it was all everyone had been telling her for weeks.

“I haven’t decided yet. I’ll think about it.”

“I will need your answer soon,” Michaela said gravely. “You’re not the only witch who can pack a punch. Others would chop their arm off for an offer like that.”

“I said, I’ll think about it,” Dana repeated, sharply.

“Think quickly, then.”

With a bell ringing to signal the beginning of the tournament, Michaela left to be with her team. Dana was glad for her leaving; she was sick of being pushed to decide. The coach of the English team had stood on her doorstep not even a week after she’d won the national championship, much quicker than his Scottish rival, but Michaela had turned out to be the more insistent of the two. They’d been in contact every day since, the letters stacking up on her desk too many for Dana to count.

The competing teams were lined up at the entrance to the duelling ground. Members of the Scottish team gave Dana a smile, which she politely returned before dropping her eyes. They had been exceptionally welcoming to her, and leaving them in the balance made her feel more guilty than she cared to admit.

As the duellists entered the arena to the thundering applause of the spectators, Dana quietly left and found her seat. She had a stellar view of the stage but it was the ranks surrounding her that drew her attention. With a sinking feeling, she realised that she seemed to be the only person who had come alone. Her eyes settled on a couple sitting close to her. They looked happy, very much in love. The feeling of loneliness hovering on the edge of her mind increased as the dark-haired young wizard put an arm around his girlfriend and whispered something in her ear that made her laugh, and she quickly looked away.

She was here to learn something, after all. Her next step, a privilege. She’d better pay attention to what actually mattered.

***

The afterparty took place at a pub adjacent to the duelling grounds, reserved for the national teams and their entourage entirely. A plethora of different languages and accents filled the air, and there was food, drinks, and the promise of good company.

Dana had been reluctant to rejoin the Scottish team after the tournament had ended but hadn’t found a reason to decline their invitation either. She soon regretted her decision; she felt even more alone than she had sitting in the stands, the champagne in her hand tasting sour and making her head throb as the conversations brushed her by.

She had just left a group of Italian witches to their devices when she spotted Michaela pushing through the crowd in her direction. Hastily, Dana emptied her champagne in one big swig that made her shudder and started towards the exit in such a hurry that she didn’t see the person crossing her path until it was too late. She staggered backwards as the two of them collided, the other person letting out a strangled-sounding “Oof!” as they fell to the ground.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you at all!” Dana exclaimed, rushing to help the young man to his feet. “Are you alright?”

“It’s no bother,” he answered with a soft accent. “What you did to that champagne just now, though… that was a crime.”

Dana stared. His dark skin and curly hair were familiar to her, somehow, but it took another moment for the Sickle to drop on her.

“You’re from the French team!” she called out. “You were in the tournament earlier.”

“I believe that applies to most people here.”

“Of course.” Colour rose to Dana’s cheeks. “Your dancing charm was incredible. I’ve never seen anyone go down with such an impressive tango.”

“I like to finish my opponents off with style,” the French wizard laughed. He extended his hand. “I’m Louis de la Fayette.”

“Nice to meet you, Louis de la Fayette,” Dana smiled. “I’m Dana. Dana Parkin.”

“Parkin?” Louis’ eyes widened. “As in, Parkin Parkin?”

Dana tensed involuntarily. Her apprehension dissolved, however, when Louis whistled lowly.

“The Dana Parkin, qui l'aurait cru. Your championship duel last season was the talk of the team, even at home in Paris. Why didn’t I see you in the ring?”

“I didn’t duel today,” Dana shook her head. “I was up in the stands.”

“What would someone like you be doing on the sidelines, instead of down with us where you belong?”

His question bothered her considerably less than when Dana had asked herself the same thing. “Learning to hex someone into tangoing themselves to defeat, I guess.”

Her intention of leaving the party entirely forgotten, Louis and Dana moved to the bar, where Louis declined Dana’s offer of getting him a proper Scottish lager as a means of apology and returned with two glasses of red wine instead. Their conversation came easily, switching between English and French. Dana hadn’t spoken it in years but found she enjoyed dusting off her language skills, immensely. With every sip of wine she became more fluent, Louis’ jokes funnier, and the nagging feeling of isolation less bit by bit.

When they had emptied their glasses they moved on to the next, and when those were empty, too, and Louis made to get them new ones, Dana placed a hand on his arm and smiled.

“Laisse-moi, s’il te plaît.”

She slid off her bar stool, maybe a little bit too quickly. The room suddenly spinning, she took a step forward, the grip on Louis’ arm tightening. Her cheeks flushed, Dana leaned her head against his shoulder and laughed.

“Wow, I don’t know where that came from.”

“Je le sais,” Louis snorted, but not unkindly. “You Brits can’t handle your wine.”

Dana straightened up but didn’t move away. She giggled. “I’m Scottish, for the record.”

“Then, Scottish girl, you can’t handle your wine.”

“Sounds like I need more practice, then.”

“That could be arranged.”

The smile on Louis’ face changed. He was so close that Dana could have counted his ludicrously long lashes, should she have wished so. Before she knew it, he leaned in, pressing his lips against hers in a kiss that tasted of rich wine. For just a moment, Dana kissed him back, his hands resting on her waist and pulling her in.

Abruptly, she came back to her senses. The pressure of her hands on Louis’ chest increased, pushing him away. Horrified, Dana staggered backwards, clasping her hand in front of her mouth.

“Dana?” Louis asked, his voice sounding far away. “What’s wrong?”

Eyes wide, Dana took another step back and away from him, wheeling around and pushing through the crowd toward the exit as fast as she could. She burst through the door, gulping down the cool night air. Quick steps took her away from the light and the noise spilling from the pub. Rounding a corner, she leaned against the wall and covered her face with her hands.

What have I done, what have I done, what have I done?!

With shaking hands, Dana took out her wand. She had to talk to Dylan, now. She had to tell him. She had never meant to cheat on him. Never, never–

She cast her spell, but instead of a happy little hedgehog, only a quivering band of silver mist appeared, disbanding into nothingness only moments after. Defeated, Dana stared at where it had vanished.

All she wanted was to go home.

She returned to the pub to go and get her things when the door opened and a group of witches stepped outside, Michaela Morrison among them.

“Dana,” she smiled and waved as soon as she spotted her. “I’ve been looking for you.”

Dana swallowed heavily. “Not now, okay?”

“You can’t keep avoiding me forever,” Michaela said, stepping sideways to block Dana’s way to the door. “I only want what’s best for you. You’re wasting away your potential.”

“I’m not.”

“You are. If you stop pushing yourself, you’re going to lose your edge. Talent only gets you so far - it’s dedication that really gets you places. You want to go places, don’t you, Dana?”

“Listen, Michaela…”

“Don’t you?”

“I do,” Dana snapped. “But now is not a good time. Next year –”

“– will be too late for you. Your star is on the rise now.” Her face softened. “Think about how many people can only dream of being where you are now. This is your shot, girl. Your chance to step from your family’s shadow. Isn’t that what you always wanted?”

“I guess so.” Dana pressed her lips together. “I’ll think about it. For real, this time.”

Considering her, Michaela inclined her head and caught up to her friends. Dana looked after her, stony-faced. She thought about Michaela’s words. She felt nothing.

“Dana?”

She jumped, so lost in her thoughts that she hadn’t noticed Louis approaching. He must have taken her reaction wrongly because he stopped a couple of feet from her and raised his hands, palms facing her.

“I only wanted to see if you’re okay.”

“Yes,” Dana nodded, immediately after shaking her head. “No. No, I’m actually not okay at all.”

“If this is about me kissing you, I never meant to –”

“I have a boyfriend,” Dana blurted out, the shame at both the thought of Dylan and the look on Louis’s face making her cheeks burn. “I should have told you straightaway. I never should have kissed you. I’m so very, very sorry.”

Blowing out his cheeks, Louis ran his hand over his hair. “Just my luck. Why are the good ones always taken?”

Dana’s eyes dropped to her bright red Converse. The left one had a tiny doodle of a penguin on its side, which Dylan had drawn. It was so old that it had all but faded, but Dana knew that it was there, regardless.

“I’m honestly sorry.”

“What for? I kissed you, after all.”

“Yes, but –”

“I’m not holding it against you, really.” He tilted his head, a wry smile crossing his face. “Whoever your boyfriend is, he must be very lucky to have scored a girl like you.”

It was too much for Dana. The first tear fell, followed by more and more as the reality of how long she hadn’t seen Dylan crashed over her. She let Louis draw her into a hug, the gesture nothing but kindness.

Sobbing, she told him about Dylan - how they’d known each other, loved each other, and how terribly she missed him every moment of every day they weren’t together. How he was out there living his dream while she was here living hers. When all her tears and her frustration had eventually been spilt, she wiped her eyes and let go of Louis, feeling more tired than ever before.

“I’m sorry,” she smiled shakily and hiccoughed. “I’m usually not much of a whiner.”

Louis made a clicking sound with his tongue. “What to say? Les plus grandes douceurs et l’infortunes, c’est l’amour.”

“It’s been more pain than sweetness, lately,” said Dana sadly. “Dylan barely gets to come home as it is, but at least I’m here when he does. If I take Michaela’s offer, I wouldn’t even know where to begin to match our schedules.”

“I think you must make up your mind,” Louis hummed. “How do you Brits say? Have your cake and eat?”

“I’m Scottish. And not quite.”

“In that case, do what makes you happy, Scottish girl.” He tapped his forefinger to his nose. “Trust me, I know all about cakes. I’m French.”

His joke made Dana laugh, if only for a bit. “What if I don’t know what I want to do with my cake, though?”

“Ah, but I think you do,” Louis said with a twinkle to his eye. He pointed at his chest, right above his heart. “If you listen to this, I promise you, you can’t go wrong.”

#dana parkin #hp12mom #twelve months of magic #better late than never

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mizutoyama · 1 year

Text

The Smell of Success

A/N: This is my entry for @hp-12monthsofmagic April prompt "I Solemnly Swear That I Am Up to No Good".

Despite her strict upbringing, Tulip Karasu had always been a free spirit at heart. Her parents' rigid rules and expectations had only served to fuel her rebellious nature, which she had managed to keep hidden from them for years. However, as Tulip grew older, it became increasingly difficult for her to keep up the façade of the obedient daughter they wanted her to be. When she finally received her letter from Hogwarts, it was as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Freedom would soon be hers. Her time to shine and show her true nature would finally come.

However, she had no idea that pulling pranks at Hogwarts would not be as easy as she expected. She had to be very careful not to get caught by anyone, especially Argus Filch, Hogwarts' caretaker, who seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to detecting pranks. He was always lurking around the corners, keeping a close eye on her every move. It was as if he knew she was up to something, and anytime she tried to place one of her Dungbombs or Stink Pellets, there he was, staring at her. It was frustrating for her because she had to constantly watch her back and make sure that she wasn't caught. If it wasn't him, it was his cat, Mrs. Norris, who was always there to ruin her plans. These two were quite the anti-prank pair, making it even harder for her to execute her prank.

In fact, this constant supervision had given her an idea. Having bought all the Dungbombs and Stink Pellets she could at Gambol and Japes Wizarding Joke Shop, she was getting ready to pull off what was in her 11-year-old mind, the ultimate prank. She had to be very careful when acquiring those smelly pranks in Diagon Alley, ensuring her parents remained none the wiser. Her initial plan had just been to plant one here and there as minor stinky pranks, but with Filch's constant presence, she decided she would use them all at once. If she was going to get caught, might as well go out with a bang. The biggest of bangs. The stinkiest of bangs.

For this prank to even happen, she first needed to make sure Filch would not catch her prepping it. Being punished for an attempted prank would feel like a failure compared to being punished for a successful one. So, the first thing she had to do was figure out Filch's habits, like when he took a tea break, which area he tended to patrol at what time, did he ever sleep, etc. That was a challenge as she had to remain inconspicuous so as to not raise Filch's suspicion. This took longer than she expected, but she ended up with a schedule detailed enough to know when to put in place the elements of her plan.

The next step in her plan was to carefully consider the timing and location of her prank. She knew that the best options were either during breakfast or dinner when there would be the most people around to witness her masterful work. After careful consideration, she ultimately decided to go with breakfast. Not only did this allow her to potentially cause a stir and get classes cancelled for the day, but there would be fewer professors in the Great Hall at that time, thereby reducing the chances of getting caught. She understood that a good prank required planning and timing and felt she had made the right choice.

Once she had everything she needed to prepare her prank, she decided it was time to set it up using the cover of darkness to her advantage. Thankfully, her roommates were mostly heavy sleepers, except perhaps for that girl who was prone to nightmares about her brother, who had reportedly joined forces with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, according to some Slytherins. Although Tulip had her doubts about whether this girl would notice her absence, she took precautions by placing pillows under her covers to make it appear as though someone was still in the bed. Making sure not to make any noise as she left, she sneaked outside of the empty common room.

Avoiding Filch was no easy feat, but Tulip managed to do so with great care. She tiptoed through the Great Hall, her eyes scanning the area for the best locations to hide her collection of Dungbombs and Stink Pellets. She kept only one Dungbomb with her, as it would be the one to start the chain reaction that would cause chaos throughout the castle. Tulip had placed a Dungbomb right under the chair of the Potions Master, ensuring that he would be caught in the midst of the stench. The sleeping inhabitants of the castle were blissfully unaware of the malodorous morning that awaited them, but Tulip knew that it would be a day they would never forget. Her work done for the night, she retreated to the comfort of her bed with a sense of excitement and anticipation.

The following day, she made her way to the Great Hall with a visible glint in her eyes and a spring in her step. This was the day she would go down in Hogwarts' history as the greatest prankster this school had ever known. Sitting down at her usual spot at Ravenclaw's table, she could hardly contain her excitement, tapping her feet and fidgeting with her spoon. As she waited for more students to arrive, Tulip couldn't help but feel a bit nervous. What if her plan didn't work? What if she got caught? But she quickly shook these thoughts away, reminding herself that she had been planning this prank for weeks and it was going to be perfect.

Finally, once she figured most students were there, she bent under the table, pretending to look for something. She threw her Dungbomb toward one of the Stink Pellets and flicked her wand toward a Dungbomb hidden under the Slytherin table. The effect was instantaneous. Within seconds, the Great Hall was filled with the rancid smell of the Dungbombs and Stink Pellets, causing the students to cough and gag. Even Professor Snape, known for his stoic demeanour, was waving his arms around and trying to get the smell away from him, looking like a giant bat trying to fly away.

The chaos was absolute as students ran out of the Great Hall, coughing and wiping their teary eyes. Tulip followed them, partly to avoid looking suspicious but also because even she had been affected by the overpowering stench that was now stinging her eyes. As she stepped out into the Entrance Hall, she couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction. She had done it! She had pulled off the greatest prank in Hogwarts' history!

However, her satisfaction was short-lived as she saw Dumbledore, the Headmaster, come running down the Grand Staircase. He stood at the entrance of the Great Hall, and, with a simple flick of his wand, the putrid smell disappeared, allowing the students to finally breathe in some odourless air. Tulip was slightly disappointed that her prank had been ended so easily and that there hadn't been more chaos. On the other hand, even if Filch was eyeing her as if he knew she was the perpetrator of the prank, it seems no one knew who had started it, and there was no evidence left to point out a suspect.

While this was not the great prank she thought it would be, she couldn't help but feel proud that she still had managed to pull this off without being caught. As she walked away from the Great Hall, she couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and anticipation for what other pranks she could pull off in the future.

Unbeknownst to her, a Slytherin girl with striking purple eyes had seen what she had done but had decided to keep it to herself. She knew that having an ally like Tulip, who was willing to take risks and push boundaries, would be invaluable in her search for the Cursed Vaults.

#hp12mom #hphm #hogwarts mystery #tulip karasu #merula snyde #alice beaumont #severus snape #albus dumbledore

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