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lunapwrites · 1 year

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Applied Theory Ch 7 - Drop Shot - The Humiliation

Biiiiiiig thanks to @bluesundaycake for his help with the French dialogue, of which there is... much. Y'all might need translate for this one, girlies. <3

“Sirius? J'ai reçu ton message. Est-ce que tout est—?” Regulus slid to a halt in the doorway, mouth dropping open. The corners twitched dangerously, threatening a smile. “Oh.”

Sirius glared at him. “Ne moque pas de moi.”

“Je ne moque pas,” he lied, stepping carefully into the room and thankfully closing the door behind him, silently taking in… the situation. “Depuis quand as-tu ça?”

“Je me suis réveillé comme ça.”

“Et tu—”

“Tu crois vraiment que je n'ai pas tout essayé pour l'enlever?” Sirius snapped, throwing his hands up to gesture wildly at his face. “À moins que je m'arrache la peau du visage—”

“Non, vraiment?” Regulus’ eyes lit up excitedly. “Même avec du maquillage?”

“Non. Ça ne couvre rien, ça change même de couleur.”

“Fascinant.”

“Concentre-toi, Regulus ! J'ai besoin de ton cerveau et son obsession pour les détails!”

Regulus raised a brow at him. “Si tu me le demandes comme ça...”

“Tu sais bien ce que je veux dire!”

His brother crossed his arms, and for a brief, terrifying moment, Sirius thought he might abandon him to his fate.

Instead, he did something far, far worse.

“D'accord, j'appelle Madame Maxime.”

Sirius blanched. “Pourquoi ferais-tu ça?”

“Car quelle que soit ton opinion de moi - injustifiée d'ailleurs - ce que Lupin t’a fait au visage dépasse largement même mes capacités.” And without another glance in his direction, Regulus swept out the door, leaving Sirius alone to await the inevitable.

It was over. His life, his career — all of it, over. He would never survive the humiliation, he was certain of it.

For a mercy, Regulus returned with Olympe in short order — far more quickly than he had expected, in truth. Unmercifully, she was far less contained than his brother had been, letting out a loud, booming laugh the moment she set eyes on him.

“L'œuvre de votre grand rival, je suppose?” she asked, grinning widely as she inspected the word emblazoned across his forehead. At his sullen nod, she snorted. “Ah non, courage. Il aurait pu écrire bien pire que ‘twat.’ Y avait-il un message, ou était-ce que c’était censé être la grande finale après ces grues en papier - combien y en avait-il?”

“Mille, soi-disant,” he grumbled. They had haunted him for the better part of three weeks, hiding in every corner of the castle only to fly out when he least expected it and smack him about the face. Even his own quarters hadn’t been safe. But they had come with a proper letter — not a Howler — which he pulled from his pocket and handed off to Olympe.

“... I send these cranes with the wish that you find better uses of your time — Personne ne peut l'accuser d'être passif-agressif.”

Sirius’ scowl deepened. “Lupin est un vrai comédien.”

“Et c'est un vrai sorcier, d’après son travail.” She paused, swatting him on the cheek gently with the parchment. “Ne fronce pas les sourcils comme ça, ça donne des rides.”

“Ça ne le tuerait pas d'avoir l'air son âge, à mon avis,” Regulus muttered, earning an elbow to the ribs from Sirius. “D'autant plus qu'il refuse de faire son âge.”

Olympe hummed. “Je n'ai jamais rien vu de tel. C'est incroyable, quand même.”

“Devrait-on le laisser, alors? Puisque le titre lui conv—oof!” Regulus recoiled at a firmer strike from his brother — this time to the stomach — retaliating with a swift kick to the ankle.

“Professeurs,” the Headmistress warned lightly, “n'oubliez pas que vous êtes censés enseigner aux enfants, et non les imiter.”

“Je ne peux pas enseigner comme ça,” Sirius groaned. “Si on ne peut pas l'enlever de mon visage…”

“C'est possible.” Olympe handed him the letter, all but waving it under his nose. “Tu vois? Il t'a laissé toutes les informations nécessaires ici.”

“Ah bon?” Sirius squinted down at the last line, written in Lupin’s steady, looping script. “Il ne fait que me traiter d'idiot.”

“Non. Lis comme il faut.”

Sirius pursed his lips, failing to see the value in this exercise, but obeyed nonetheless: “I’m sure someone as clever as you has already figured out the source of the problem, but just in case my fifth-years are cleverer than you— oui, très original, Lupin — then you might want to know it’s a simple localisation issue. Do let me know how you make out. Il est audacieux lui, de s'attribuer le mérite d'avoir trouvé le problème de localisation alors que c'est moi qui lui en ai parlé en premier lieu. L'arrogance—!”

“Tu ne vois pas d'autre raison pour qu’il ait pu dire ça?” Regulus asked pointedly enough to stop Sirius in his tracks.

What did Lupin gain from taking credit for this? It wasn’t as though he were making the claim publicly; it was a private letter — or would have been if he hadn’t just shared the contents. Was it a threat? Blackmail of some sort? If so it was a piss-poor attempt; he’d gotten worse from his grandmother — after she’d lost her teeth. So what was it? And now that he was looking at it more closely, why was the phrasing sitting so strangely with him?

And then, all at once, it clicked.

He dropped his face into his hands — stupid. “C'est un problème de localisation.”

“Voilà,” Olympe said, clasping his shoulder gently as she stood. “Il suffit de trouver le sort qu'il a lancé en anglais, et tu devrais pouvoir inverser l'effet, non?”

It sounded so easy when she said it like that - despite the fact that there were half a dozen spells he needed to try, and pray he came across the correct variation. But unfortunately Sirius found himself remembering a crucial bit of information from Lupin’s biography — information which could well spell his doom.

He let out a mirthless laugh. “En théorie, oui. Mais Lupin n'est pas anglais, il est gallois.”

A ringing silence met his statement, hanging in the air for several tense moments.

Regulus broke first, throwing his head back with a sharp, barking laugh so similar to his own, and he walked out of the room — still laughing, his work complete.

Olympe sniffed, shaking her head. “Faire son âge… c'est l'hôpital qui se moque de la charité,” she muttered, turning to Sirius with a sympathetic grimace. “Tu peux continuer seul à partir d'ici, oui?” At his nod, she continued: “Très bien. J'ai cru comprendre que tu prendra la parole lors de la grande conférencecet été. C'est aux États-Unis cette année, n'est-ce pas ?”

“New York,” Sirius supplied with a proud, if weak smile. His work in recursive casting methodology — which had sprung, interestingly enough, from his feud with Lupin — had finally caught not only the eye of l'Académie de la Magie, but that of the greater international community at large. To be able to present his research at IACST was an incredible honour. And one which — he hoped — he would be able to accept with a clear complexion.

“J’ai aucun doute que tu vas bien nous représenter.” She walked to the door. “Je vais couvrir tes cours de l'après-midi aujourd'hui, mais si tu n’as toujours pas trouvé la solution d'ici demain, puis-je suggérer un chapeau?”

Sirius flushed, but inclined his head gratefully. “Oui, Madame. Merci.”

Once she had left, he walked over to the mirror, pointing his wand carefully at the offensive word spelled across his forehead in bold, black lettering. “Evanesco.”

A small, simple variation, but significant enough; still, the word didn’t budge.

Sirius wondered idly what the protocol would be if he were to murder Lupin at the conference — assuming of course the prick would be there (he would; ego that size? He’d never miss it.)

Well. Hopefully he wouldn’t need to find out.

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carewyncromwell · 9 months

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"Everyone’s a writer -- painter -- poet! Everything is avant-garde or chic!

We’ll be in the know before we know it... When you’re in the know, it’s -- Oh, it’s magnifique! To find in Paris what you seek..."

~"Paris Holds the Key (to Your Heart)" from Anastasia (musical)

x~x~x~x

Jacob Cromwell's graduation from Hogwarts truly was an underdog story, to most people's minds. After getting roped into the likes of R, losing his two closest companions to petrification and death respectively, getting expelled, and finally getting trapped in a magical portrait for seven years, it was something of a miracle when he was able to turn it all around with nothing but his astounding intellect and magical talent, graduating with full honors in the spring of 1991. Many presumed that after the trauma he'd undergone, Jacob would settle into life at home with a respectable new career in the Wizarding World -- his sister Carewyn certainly did, taking a much more peaceful job at the Ministry of Magic as a lawyer.

Jacob, however, celebrated his graduation and freedom by traveling the world and doing and learning as much as he could -- and in those travels, he ended up making quite a name for himself, not as "that delinquent Jacob Cromwell," but as a freelance magical researcher. One of those people who took immediate notice of Jacob's brilliance in this regard was a witch who ended up becoming a very good friend of his -- the statuesque Headmistress of the Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, Olympe Maxime.

It all started when Jacob finally -- after pecking away at it off-and-on for about two years around his travels and random Cursebreaking expeditions -- finished a scholarly essay applying the principles of Muggle chemistry to various Potions ingredients. It was a subject he'd first experimented with in his fifth year at Hogwarts (right in the middle of his Potions OWL, ridiculous as it was), but Jacob had felt more prepared to return to the subject after doing more research and even covertly sitting in on a few Muggle chemistry classes while traveling abroad. Then over the span of the next twenty months, he wrote out a full piece on all of the research he'd done, adding in some theories about a variation of the periodic table possibly being applied to various Potions ingredients and how applying the principles of organic chemistry to Potioneering could spur the invention of new Potions. Jacob sent a copy of his essay to his former professor and friend, Horace Slughorn, and the ex-Potionsmaster reacted with great enthusiasm.

Pleasantries aside, though -- Jacob, my boy, your essay! I spent an absolutely lovely afternoon reading it over a glass of brandy, and I was simply enraptured by it! I hope you don't mind, but I've already sent a snippet of it off to a friend of mine who writes for The Practical Potioneer, to see if he'd be interested in publishing the whole thing in some future edition -- such a thing awaiting your explicit consent, of course.

Jacob enthusiastically gave Slughorn the "go-ahead" to send the rest of his essay along, if his friend expressed interest in publishing it. Later that year, when Jacob came home for Christmas, he was able to surprise his mother and sister with their own first editions of the potioneering magazine containing his essay. Lane was so delighted and proud that she actually ended up bursting into silent tears.

"The Practical Potioneer," she breathed, her wispy voice choked with emotion. "Oh, Jay...I used to read that every month, when I was in school...whenever the Hogwarts library got in a new copy that I could check out...and now..." She brought her hands up to cradle her son's cheeks, "...now my little Blue Jay's gotten published in it!"

Jacob opened his arms in anticipation of the big hug his mother gave him, squeezing her tight. Despite being just as strong of a Legilimens as Carewyn, he'd never been as good at sensing people's emotions as she was -- but in this moment, he was positive: his mother was so, so proud of him. And that feeling filled Jacob up with so much vindication and warmth that he too felt close to tears.

Both Lane and Carewyn would put Jacob's article in positions of honor. Carewyn framed all four pages of Jacob's essay and mounted them on the wall of her office under a print of Hogsmeade village Badeea had painted for her. Lane herself left the magazine with her son's essay out on the side table by her favorite "reading window" for the rest of her life, and she shared it with every single one of the few visitors she invited to her cottage.

x~x~x~x

As fate would have it, a French Potioneer traveling abroad on holiday picked up several Potioneering magazines from the countries he visited, so as to read them on his long train ride home. One of those such magazines ended up being that very edition of The Practical Potioneer, and the French wizard was thoroughly charmed by the theories presented by the British researcher called Jacob Cromwell: so much so that he translated the essay into French and then sent it and the original magazine to the French Wizarding World's main newspaper, Le Cri de la Gargouille. The paper then published the translation of Jacob's essay in their paper in February 1994, specifically as part of their Mode de Vie Magique section -- a section that was, in fact, a favorite of one Olympe Maxime.

About a week after Le Cri de La Gargouille printed Jacob's translated article, Jacob received a letter via owl post that was sealed with a light blue seal marked with a cursive "B" over two crossed wands.

Monsieur Cromwell, Firstly, I must apologize if this letter reaches you more than once. When seeking out an address for you, I was informed that you currently have no permanent address, and so I had to get creative to find a way to contact you directly. Fortunately it seems that the Owl Office in Paris is most resourceful in locating witches and wizards while they are on holiday abroad. But now, to business. A week or so ago, while reading La Cri de La Gargouille, I came across your essay regarding the application of Non-Magic chemistry to our own Potioneering, and to put it simply, I found it absolutely enthralling. I profess no expertise in Non-Magic science, aside from the psychology books I've read by Non-Magic authors, but your knowledge of the two subjects is clearly thorough, and your conclusions in comparing the two were fascinating. Your application of Non-Magic chemistry to Potioneering is a subject I would like very much to share with my older students, in preparation for their entry into the Wizarding World. And so it is because of this that I cordially invite you to the Beauxbatons Academy of Magic for a high tea on the afternoon of March 1st, at 3 o' clock. Please RSVP as soon as possible -- I hope that since my return address is so prominent, your response should not take long to reach me. Chaleureusement, Olympe Maxime Directice of the Beauxbatons Academy of Magic

x~x~x~x

To say Jacob was thrilled at the prospect of visiting the famous Beauxbatons Academy would be an understatement. He was so over the moon at the prospect that he sent letters to Carewyn, Lane, his best friend Olivia Green, Horace Slughorn, Filius Flitwick and Madam Rosmerta about it, before he finally calmed down enough to remember that he hadn't even RSVPed to Madame Maxime's invitation properly.

Salut, Madame Maxime! Mon français n'est pas très bon, mais j'ai pensé que je devais répondre dans votre langue, parce que vous m'avez écrit dans mon langue. Le français est une belle langue aussi -- c'est ma préférée des langues gallo-romantiques. J'aimerais beaucoup te rendre visite! J'ai lu beaucoup de livres sur votre école. Je ne peux pas attendre! À bientôt! Jacob Cromwell

Jacob then had to immediately set about making travel plans to France. First he took a boat from Rebun Island (his current location) to Tokyo; then he took a very long plane ride from Tokyo to Frankfurt, Germany; once he'd gotten his bearings, he then took a train to Paris, where he was able to take the Floo Network from le Place Cachée to the Wizarding village of Lapinfort, by the outskirts of Lourdes. It was in Lapinfort that Jacob was handed a response from his sister Carewyn, which had arrived via owl the previous day.

Dear Jacob, I just got your letter. I can't believe you're actually going to visit Beauxbatons Academy! I know how much you've always wanted to go there, and to know you've been invited there by Madame Maxime herself...I'm so proud of you! I'm not exaggerating when I say I'm rereading your letter as I'm writing this and I can't stop smiling. Truly, though, I hope you get on with Madame Maxime, and that your lecture for her students goes well. I met Maxime once when she accompanied my school friend Penny's penpal Aurelie Dumont on a visit to Hogwarts, and she's a very glamorous woman. But please, Jacob, I'm begging you, don't make ANY comments about her size -- she's even taller than Hagrid, and I get the feeling she's secretly very self-conscious about it. The last thing I want is for you to make a bad first impression!! As the French say, "bonne chance!" Write to me as soon as you get this, and then be sure to also write to me all about your meeting, after it's over -- I want to know everything. Love you, Carewyn

Jacob wrote Carewyn a quick note to let her know of his safe arrival. Then, once he'd finished, he went into town and found a carriage led by flying horses that could take him over the Pyranees mountains and to the famous Beauxbatons Academy of Magic.

It was truly as beautiful of a school as Jacob's books had claimed. Just as Hogwarts was a mysterious, grand stone castle, Beauxbatons was likewise a kind of palace, though one far more ornamental and delicate: a true French chateau, framed by elegant gardens trimmed with fairy lights.

As Jacob disembarked from the carriage, he found himself enchanted by the tiny seashells embedded into the cement paths that led through the gardens. He soon found himself wandering the left of these paths, rather than looking for the entrance properly, and found himself embarking on a quest to locate the center of the hedge maze he'd found himself in. It wasn't until about a half-hour later that he found his way back out and to Beauxbatons' entrance.

When Jacob reached the grand, white front doors, they sparkled with silver sparkles as they opened for him. Clearly the school knew this was a welcome guest, rather than an enemy -- Jacob's eyes lit up at this thought, and only became brighter seeing the school's interior.

The ceilings were even high than Hogwarts's, and shining as bright white as a spring-time sky full of angelic clouds. The halls were framed by large, beautiful, painted marble columns trimmed with gold, as well as countless living portraits trimmed with ornate ivory frames. There were crystal chandeliers decorated with colorful glass flowers and ivy that sparkled with even more fairy lights. Living statues were mounted in displays of honor down the hall, and they all turned their heads to look at Jacob as he passed. Everything was so bright and pristine, and yet not flimsy. There was power here, inside of this ageless, seemingly fragile beauty: the kind found in the Greek Parthenon or the palace of Versailles.

"Ah...Monsieur Cromwell."

Jacob looked up, startled, to find a very foreboding, but beautiful woman dressed all in light blue satin with a white feathered-shawl around her shoulders, approaching him. She was large before she got close, but once she had, she towered over him, nearly as tall as the ceiling.

Like Hagrid, Jacob recalled.

The thought of the friendly gamekeeper, as well as of Carewyn's letter, made Jacob grin from ear to ear.

"...You must be Madame Maxime!"

"Oui," she said lightly. "You are late, Monsieur Cromwell -- I expected you 'alf an 'our ago."

The Directice's dark eyes flitted over the much smaller man, taking in his incredibly informal white t-shirt and jeans with muted disapproval.

Jacob, however, was blissfully unaware of this.

"Oh yeah -- sorry about that!" he said brightly. "I was just exploring your gardens -- fabulous hedge maze you've got, on par with the one at Villandry Castle. I think I found at least one of its treasures in my wanderings -- that is, if you don't count the absolutely beautiful Herbology specimens...nearly got caught in that French Devil's Snare, when trying to examine your color-changing peonies. But at the center of the maze, I found your garden of wood nymphs -- "

Maxime looked very startled. "You found eet?"

"Yeah! Bloody brilliant use of Concealment Charms, though -- took me about ten tries, before I got the order of turns right...but yeah, so I found the garden in the center, and that tree...absolutely stunning! I don't even know what breed it is exactly, maybe a variation of Wiggentree, but it's exquisite! Is it unique? It surely must be -- I've never seen one so big! Anyhow, the wood nymph Queen wasn't so keen on me getting close, but once I showed her I meant no harm, she pointed the way out for me...who knew wood nymphs would be so keen on Whitney Houston? Though really, I don't blame them -- Whitney's got a wicked set of pipes -- obviously I couldn't do her song the same justice she would've, but hey..."

Many a person had found Jacob's talkativeness exhausting to deal with, in the past. Even Jacob's first friend and love Duncan Ashe had frequently had to tell Jacob to shut up now and again, whenever he'd go off the deep end in rambling. Surprisingly, however, Madame Maxime didn't seem the least bit uncomfortable or overwhelmed -- if anything, her expression bloomed into something a bit more intrigued.

"You zaid zat you not only found our garden for ze wood nymphs in less zhan an hour," she said, "but zat you also earned zheir favor? Monsieur Cromwell -- I do not zhink you are aware of quite how rare zat is."

Jacob cocked his eyebrows, smiling fully. "Why, because of your Concealing magic? Ah, well, I am a freelance Cursebreaker, a lot of the time...puzzles are my favorite thing. And magical creatures are always groovy -- you should meet my friend Hagrid, he works at Hogwarts, he's swell with creatures..."

"What I mean is zat conquering zat maze is a test all seventh year students must face 'ere at Beauxbatons, in order to graduate," Maxime said, her smile spreading more fully. "And most only reach ze garden, before 'aving to quickly leave it. Ze wood nymphs are very protective of zheir tree -- which, yes, is a one of a kind specimen: I rescued it on a trip to Greece myself," he eyes twinkled with a bit of mischief.

Jacob blinked. Then his face broke out into a bigger smile than ever, his skull-like light blue eyes positively alight with delight.

"So does that make me worthy of touring the hallowed halls of your Academy, Directice?" he asked, raising his eyebrows eagerly.

Maxime beamed. "Quite worthy, Monsieur Cromwell."

"Groovy!" cheered Jacob. "Because I was meaning to ask about your school's architecture -- everything I've read about Beauxbatons states that it was built in the 13th century, but all of the decor and landscaping I've seen since I got here is distinctly Baroque -- more properly, Rococo-inspired, which wasn't popular until the 17th century at the earliest. I would assume Beauxbatons has gone through some structural changes thorough-out the years -- understandable, given the history of war on France's borders, in contrast to the isolated Scottish Highlands where Hogwarts is situated -- but are these original from that period, or was it brought back in a revival, after the fall of Napoleon and the virulent anti-monarchist views held by the common man had calmed enough that such beauty could be celebrated again, rather than solely condemned?"

Maxime indulged Jacob's questions as they walked down the long hall and then up a grand staircase to her office. Once there, she offered Jacob some tea (which Jacob drank to be polite) and a dish of endlessly duplicating chocolate madeleines (which Jacob couldn't stop eating). While drinking their tea, Maxime asked Jacob some questions of her own about the kinds of magical research he'd been working on, which prompted Jacob to go off on a tangent about poisons and antidotes, which in turn got Maxime eagerly talking about the perfumes she mixed herself, using the flowers grown in the Beauxbatons gardens.

"Truly, it iz also not zo different from your non-Magique 'chemistry,'" said Maxime. "Just as with Potions, you zimply need zome zort of essential oil, a proper base, and zhen different 'notes,' to achieve ze desired effect. Combine jojouba oil, lavender, and rose with just a 'int of Lady's Mantle as a top note, and voila! You have a perfume zat not only makes you feel relaxed and beautiful, but makes you both smell and appear even more beautiful, to ze people around you."

Jacob's eyes lit up. "Using Beauty Potion ingredients in perfumes! What a groovy idea! I can't wait to tell my Pip -- she's always liked lavender as a scent..."

Maxime beamed, clearly very pleased by Jacob's enthusiasm. "You can zee why your piece about applying non-Magique chemistry to Potions interested me zo much. I would frankly love to 'ear 'ow you'd explain your theories to my students...if you would be willing to let me 'sit in' on your lecture."

"Of course!" Jacob said at once, without any hesitation. His grin was so big he could hardly contain it. "Mais oui! I'd be honored!"

Maxime and Jacob would go on to talk for another whole hour, long after the tea was gone. It was only then that Maxime brought Jacob downstairs toward the Potions classroom, where a set of seventh years had just filed in, and introduced Jacob to the class before settling in the very back of the room as he started his lecture. Although Jacob went on quite a few long tangents in his lecture, his enthusiasm captivated the French students, so much so that they couldn't even look down too much on the weird Briton with the crazy hair and sloppy clothes. He was so animated and intelligent when he talked that soon all of the students were raising their hands and engaging with him, asking follow-up questions and even challenging his conclusions, which Jacob reacted to with almost more enthusiasm than he did to the questions. By the time Jacob's lecture was through, Maxime's eyes positively radiated with how charmed she was by this tiny, quirky little wizard with the messy curls.

"You will have to visit again, when next you publish anozher zuch work," she said insistently.

"Oh, totally!" said Jacob eagerly. "I'd love to come again sometime. Even just to explore some more -- your school really is smashing! I'd love to see your library next time..."

"Mais oui -- but of course."

Jacob's enthusiasm clearly pleased Maxime greatly. It made her give a slightly-too-hard pat to Jacob's cheek that ended up more feeling like a slap.

"Au revoir, Monsieur Cromwell," said Maxime with a warm smile. "I do 'ope zat you shall visit France again soon."

Jacob blinked. Then he smiled a bit more awkwardly.

"Well, uh...my travels kind of keep me on the move. I don't really know when I'll be anywhere a lot of the time -- I just sort of figure it out as I go along. But that doesn't mean I wouldn't like to come back sometime, obviously! And until I do, I could always send you letters, if you'd like. I love sending letters," Jacob added with a grin.

Maxime cocked her eyebrows. "You do not zeem to like receiving zhem quite so much, if you do not have a proper return address."

Jacob laughed uncomfortably. "Oh no, it's...not me not liking receiving letters, I just...keep forgetting to file for a proper collection box, with the Owl Office. Pip's always getting on me for that -- she ends up getting most of the letters for me, and she thinks it'd be a lot easier if people just sent them straight to me, rather than her having to figure out where to send stuff to me based on what I tell her of where I'm next going..."

"Your 'Pip' iz right about zat," said Maxime with a cool smile. "I would zuppose she is just too nice to tell you to stop making 'er pick up after you."

Jacob laughed a bit more fully, though still rather uncomfortably.

"Yeah...yeah, I guess you're right..." He smiled a bit more fully. "All right -- when I get a proper collection box, I'll let you know straight away."

"Good," said Maxime. "I would not like to 'ave to zend three of ze same letter again. I am not ze zort of woman who likes to appear desperate."

Jacob laughed again despite himself. "Desperate? I wouldn't have said that. I thought that it just made you determined, honestly. It sounds like just the sort of thing my Pip would do, to make sure she reached me."

"I have met your zister before, Jacob Cromwell, however briefly," said Maxime, her wry smile widening a bit. "Zo I know, both because of 'er and because of your clear esteem for 'er, zat your comparison is a great compliment."

Jacob grinned. "Better believe it is."

Sure enough, with Madame Maxime's prodding, Jacob opened up a collection box with the Owl Office and enchanted it so that his mail could seamlessly appear in a collection tray on the desk inside his portable room in a suitcase. With this, he was able to receive and send letters a lot more quickly and efficiently -- and it was because of this that Jacob received the news of Cedric Diggory's death so quickly from both Carewyn and Maxime and he was so quick to return home to the United Kingdom in the spring of 1995. Jacob would lose touch with Madame Maxime when she went with Hagrid to negotiate with the giants, but they would reestablish contact after her during the War and especially after, when they no longer had to send messages in code.

The two would remain friends for many years to come, sending letters and gifts to each other while Jacob was traveling. One of Jacob's favorite gifts from Olympe Maxime ended up being a custom cologne she brewed for him, made of cocoa beans, leather, Egyptian musk, and Lady's Mantle. It was a scent Jacob wore chiefly on dates, when he really wanted to look and feel his best, and whenever anyone asked him about it, he was always incredibly proud to boast about his talented friend, the stately Directice of Beauxbatons herself.

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #my writing #jacob cromwell #madame maxime #carewyn cromwell #horace slughorn #lane cromwell #yay jacob content!#I kind of felt like exploring jacob's dynamics with certain characters the way I did for carewyn with umbridge #though this one's obviously a much lighter example #another relationship I wouldn't mind exploring is the bill and jacob relationship #because yeaaaaah jacob kind of resents bill even though he knows he's not a bad person and he's his sister's bestie #but bill kind of 'replaced' jacob in carewyn's life to a degree as older brother figure for a while and that stings #and because bill is so like carewyn in a lot of ways there are definitely points where jacob has secretly felt #as though bill was a better 'brother' for her than he was #not that it'd be easy for him to articulate that either because of his own pride or because he's not as smart emotionally as carey is #but yeah anyway I find it funny how much easier it is for jacob to make friends with people who are older than him than his age #rosmerta flitwick slughorn...even mia who I've written about elsewhere ends up seven years older than jacob thanks to the portrait thing

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ameliathefatcat · 1 year

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So I headcanon that wizarding Bulgaria has the largest part veela population in the wizarding world. Drumstrang has the highest half breed student population out of all the wizarding schools.

Most part veelas are Bulgaria are the daughters of players of the Bulgarian Quidditch team and the veela cheerleaders. It’s a stereotype that part veelas are good at quidditch because of this.

#harry potter #veelas #most of the women on the Bulgarian quidditch team are part veela #Fleur her sister and her cousins might have been sent to Drumstrang if it wasn’t for Madame Maxim

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magnificentandstrange · 2 years

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#Madame Maxime #harry potter and the goblet of fire

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frogofcamelot · 2 years

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where is my bearded half-giant malewife boyfriend who coddles my pets with their favorite expensive liquor and slicks his hair down with copious amounts of axle grease to look good for our date :'((

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vivwritesfics · 2 months

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In Bloom Character/driver list

Who our drivers represent in the harry potter au lestappen fic. The reader is just that, the reader. She represents nobody. Max, too, is his own 'character'

Harry Potter - Charles Leclerc

Ron Weasley - Esteban Ocon

Hermione Granger - Pierre Gasley

Draco Malfoy - Nikita Mazepin

Voldemort - Jos Verstappen

The Minister - Bernie Ecclestone

Dumbledore - Michael Schumacher

Snape - Fernando Alonso

McGonagall - Sebastian Vettel

Remus Lupin - Lewis Hamilton

Sirius Black - Nico Rosberg

Peter Pettigrew - Sergio Perez

Hagrid - Fred Vasseur

Buckbeak - Rocky (aka, Max's car)

Cedric Diggory - Jules Bianchi

Alastor Moody - Kimi Räikkönen

Viktor Krum - Carlos Sainz

Madame Olympe Maxime - Susie Wolff (Stoddart)

Igor Karkaroff - Toto Wolff

I will add to the list as they come into play

#vivi's hp crossover

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lilbeanz · 4 months

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Wow... Madame Maxime was truly thirsty for Hagrid’s giant D....

#😳

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mybutcheredtongue · 1 month

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I'll Love You 'til the Grass Around My Gravestone is Deceased

post azkaban sirius black x fem!reader

CHAPTER NINETEEN (see full series list here)

1993

Every head in the Hall turns to Harry, whose shocked and confused expression is matching your own. Your jaw has dropped to the floor.

Nobody claps, nobody cheers like they did for the other champions. Everyone just stares at Harry, who sits frozen and unmoving.

Beside you, Minerva gets to her feet and sweeps forward to whisper urgently to Dumbledore, who bends his ear towards her, frowning slightly.

You watch as Dumbledore straightens up. "Harry Potter! Harry! Up here, if you please."

Harry gets to his feet unsteadily, treading on the hem of his robes and stumbling. There's no sound but for the boy's nervous footsteps. His eyes are glued to the ground as he reaches Dumbledore.

"Well...through that door, Harry," says Dumbledore, gesturing with his hand to the door.

As if in a dream, Harry makes his way past your table. He looks at you when he passes and you do your best to give him the least pained smile you can muster. He enters the room and disappears from sight. At once, Ludo Bagman jumps to his feet, a joyous expression on his face, and hurries into the room after Harry. You glance around at the other teachers, exchanging a worried look with Minerva, before standing and walking into the room as well, with Dumbledore, Madame Maxime, Karkaroff, Minerva and Snape.

The room is lined with portraits of witches and wizards. A grand fire is roaring in the corner, the three first champions standing around it.

"Madame Maxime!" Fleur says at once, striding over to her headmistress. "Zey are saying zat zis little boy is to compete also!"

You don't miss the way Harry bristles slightly at that.

"What is ze meaning of zis, Dumbly-Dorr?" she says imperiously, the top of her head brushing the bottom of the chandelier.

"I'd rather like to know that myself, Dumbledore," agrees Karkaroff, whose blue eyes are like shards of ice. "Two Hogwarts Champions? I don't remember anyone telling me the host school is allowed two champions — or have I not read the rules carefully enough?"

He laughs nastily and you feel your gut twist.

"C'est impossible!" Madame Maxime exclaims, her left hand resting on Fleur's shoulder. "'Ogwarts cannot 'ave two champions. It is most unjust."

"We were under the impression that your Age Line would keep out younger contestants," Karkaroff snips, a steely smile on his face. Another smile that doesn't reach his eyes whatsoever. "Otherwise, we would, of course, have brought along a wider selection of candidates from our own schools."

"It's no one's fault but Potter's, Karkaroff," Snape says softly, dark eyes filled with malice and distaste as he looks at Harry. You can feel your blood start to boil. That's your godson right there! "Don't go blaming Dumbledore for Potter's determination to break school rules. He has been crossing lines ever since he arrived here — "

"Thank you, Severus," says Dumbledore firmly, and Snape goes blissfully quiet, though he continues to give Harry dirty looks.

Dumbledore looks at Harry from behind his half-moon spectacles with an indiscernible expression on his face.

"Did you put your name in the Goblet of Fire, Harry?" he asks calmly.

"No." Harry's eyes flit around him nervously. Snape makes an impatient noise of disbelief.

"Did you ask an older student to put it into the Goblet of Fire for you?" says Dumbledore, ignoring Snape.

"No," Harry answers vehemently.

Behind Dumbledore's back, Snape's eyes move to you and he points a long finger at you accusingly. You shake your head viciously. He raises his eyebrows in disbelief. You roll your eyes and give him the middle finger.

"Ah, but of course 'e is lying!" cries Madame Maxime. Snape nods enthusiastically.

"He could not have crossed the Age Line," says Minerva sharply. "I am sure we can all agree on that — "

"Dumbly-dorr must 'ave made a mistake wiz ze line," says Madame Maxime simply, shrugging.

"Professor Dumbledore didn't make a mistake," you chime in snippily.

"It is possible, of course," Dumbledore says politely.

"Dumbledore, you know perfectly well you did not make a mistake!" says Minerva angrily. "Really, what nonsense! Harry could not have crossed the line himself, and as Professor Dumbledore believes that he did not persuade an older student to do it for him, I'm sure that should be good enough for everyone else!"

She shoots a very angry look at Snape.

"Mr Crouch...Mr Bagman," says Karkaroff, "you are our — er — objective judges. Surely you will agree that this is most irregular?"

Bagman wipes his round, boyish face with a handkerchief and looks at Crouch, who is standing outside the circle of the firelight, his face half-hidden in shadow.

"We must follow the rules and the rules clearly state that those people whose names come out of the Goblet of Fire are bound to compete in the tournament."

"He can't compete," you say. "He's fourteen!"

"I insist upon resubmitting the names of the rest of my students," Karkaroff says angrily, ignoring you, a very ugly look on his face. "You will set up the Goblet of Fire once more, and we will continue adding names until each school has two champions. It is only fair, Dumbledore."

"But Karkaroff, it doesn't work like that," says Ludo Bagman. "The Goblet of Fire's just gone out — it won't reignite until the start of the next tournament — "

"In which Durmstrang will most certainly not be competing!" barks Karkaroff. "After all our meetings and negotiations and compromises, I little expected something of this nature to occur! I have half a mind to leave now!"

"Empty threat, Karkaroff," growls a voice from near the door. "You can't leave your champion now, he's got to compete. They've all got to compete. Binding magical contract, like Dumbledore said. Convenient, eh?"

Moody's just entered the room, limping towards your group, clunking his way through. You stiffen slightly at the sight of him, feeling yourself involuntarily straightening your posture.

"Convenient?" Says Karkaroff. "I'm afraid I don't understand you, Moody."

"Don't you?" Moody says quietly, glass eye swivelling in its socket. "It's very simple, Karkaroff. Someone put Potter's name in that goblet knowing he'd have to compete if it came out."

"Evidently, someone 'oo wished to give 'Ogwarts two bites at ze apple!" Madame Maxime exclaims.

"I quite agree, Madame Maxime," Karkaroff concurs. "I shall be lodging complaints with the Ministry of Magic and the International Confederation of Wizards — "

"If anyone's got reason to complain, it's Potter," Moody growls, fixing his gaze on Harry, "but...funny thing...I don't hear him saying a word..."

"Why should 'e complain?" Fleur Delacour bursts out. "'E 'as the chance to compete, 'asn't 'e? We 'ave all been 'oping to be chosen for weeks and weeks! Ze 'onour for our schools!" A thousand Galleons in prize money — zis is a chance many would die for!"

"Maybe someone's hoping Potter is going to die for it," Moody says gravelly.

An extremely tense silence follows his words and you just stare at him in disbelief.

"What are you talking about?" You say slowly.

"We all know Professor Moody considers the morning wasted if he hasn't discovered six plots to murder him before lunchtime," Karkaroff says loudly, shrugging his shoulders. "Apparently he is now teaching his students to fear assassination too. An odd quality in a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Dumbledore, but no doubt you had your reasons."

"Imagining things, am I?" Moody snarls. "Seeing things, eh? It was a skilled witch or wizard who put the boy's name in that goblet..."

"Ah, what evidence is zere of zat?" Madame Maxime says incredulously.

"Because they hoodwinked a very powerful magical object!" says Moody, tapping his staff on the stone flags. "It would have needed an exceptionally strong Confundus Charm to bamboozle that goblet into forgetting that only three schools compete in the tournament...I'm guessing they submitted Potter's name under a fourth school, to make sure he was the only one in his category..."

"How this situation arose, we do not know," Dumbledore says finally. "It seems to me, however, that we have no choice but to accept it. Both Cedric and Harry have been chosen to compete in the tournament. This, therefore, they will do..."

"I'm sorry, but have you all gone mad?" You interrupt, feeling everyone's eyes turn to you. Maybe you shouldn't have come out that strong, but hey, too late to back out now! "Harry is fourteen. He's not of age yet, and he's certainly not old enough for this tournament. This, as we all know, extremely dangerous tournament! He doesn't know half the spells a seventh-year would know, it's madness to let him go ahead — "

"If you have an alternative, I would be delighted to hear it," Dumbledore says, politely adding your name at the end.

"Hm, well, how about we just...don't let him compete, maybe? Bit of a crazy idea to you lot, I'm sure — "

"Legally binding magical contract, professor!" Ludo Bagman cuts in, beaming excitedly at you, wagging his finger. "Give the lad a chance! Let's crack on now, I think we've had enough squawking for one night!"

He turns to the rest of the group, effectively cutting you off from them. They've got to be mad. Absolutely mad. He's far too young for this. It's against the rules! And who decided to make this magically binding in the first place? What kind of fool makes a tournament that involves teenage students magically binding? You ball your hands into fists. Would you lose your job if you punched Bagman in that snotty, overly-cheerful face of his?

Yeah, probably.

Well, okay. You definitely would lose your job. You've just lost a little bit of respect for Dumbledore. He's not even trying to give Harry an out! Not even trying to fix this situation.

Men.

You glance over at your godson. He hasn't stopped fiddling with the hem of his robes since his name was called out and you feel awful. You can tell just by looking at him that he's as surprised and confused as you are, that he had no idea his name was going to come out of that goblet. There has to be a way out of this. You won't have him put in danger like that.

"The first task is designed to test your daring," comes Crouch's low voice, pulling you from your thoughts, "so we are not going to be telling you what it is. It will take place on November the twenty-fourth, in front of the other students and the panel of judges. The champions are not permitted to ask for or accept help of any kind from their teachers to complete the tasks in the tournament. The champions will face the first challenge armed only with their wands. They will receive information about the second task when the first is over. Owing to the demanding and time-consuming nature of the tournament, the champions are exempted from end-of-year tests."

Out of the corner of your eye you see Cedric subtly pump his fist at his side in quiet celebration.

Crouch turns to look at Dumbledore. "I think that's all, right, Albus?"

"I think so," says Dumbledore. "Are you sure you wouldn't like to stay the night at Hogwarts, Barty?"

Oh please no.

"No, Dumbledore, I must get back to the Ministry," Crouch answers and you breath a very quiet sigh of relief. "It is a very busy, very difficult time at the moment...I've left young Weatherby in charge...very enthusiastic...a little over-enthusiastic, truth be told..."

"You'll come and have a drink before you go, at least?"

"Come on, Barty, I'm staying!" exclaims Bagman brightly, clapping Crouch on the shoulder — which causes Crouch to jump slightly and grimace. "It's all happening at Hogwarts now, you know, much more exciting here than at the office!"

"I think not, Ludo," Crouch says, a touch of impatience in his voice.

You won't be missed!

"Professor Karkaroff, Madame Maxime — a nightcap?" Dumbledore asks, but Madame Maxime has already put her arm around Fleur's shoulders and is leading her out of the room, the two of them conversing in very rapid French — you focus on trying to catch what they're saying, but you barely catch any of it, other than a very put-out mention of a petit garçon, meaning little boy. It's obvious they're not too happy about this arrangement at all.

Karkaroff beckons Viktor and they too exit the room, though in silence.

"Harry, Cedric, I suggest you go up to bed," Dumbledore says kindly, smiling at the two boys. "I am sure Gryffindor and Hufflepuff are waiting to celebrate with you, and it would be a shame to deprive them of this excellent excuse to make a great deal of mess and noise."

Harry and Cedric glance at each other, nodding, before leaving the room together. As he passes, you give Harry a small nod and walk forward towards Dumbledore.

"Headmaster, I'd like a quick word, if you please."

"Certainly," Dumbledore says, and you lead him just outside the room, closing the door behind you so you're out of earshot. Harry and Cedric are still walking down the Hall and they both glance back at the two of you. You give them both a little wave, which is returned.

"Sir," you start quietly, wondering how to go about this as calmly as possible, "you're hardly being serious about this, right? Harry can't compete in this, he's far too young."

"I am afraid there is nothing I can do about it," Dumbledore replies simply. "His name came out of the Goblet and as per the rules he must compete."

"But you can't let him compete!" you hiss. "I don't care about the rules — you have to fix this! You're Headmaster, you just can't let him go ahead with this — "

Dumbledore says your name strongly. "I know you're concerned for Harry, I understand that. But there really is nothing I can do. In hindsight, a magically binding contract was not the most clever decision..."

You sigh, biting your lip. "What if Professor Moody is right? And someone really did do that to put Harry in danger? I can't just stand by and let that happen."

"There is a possibility, of course," Dumbledore says slowly, "but we will always be there, at every task, and if such danger arises we will handle it. I promise you that."

"Okay..." you say semi-certainly, nodding your head. "Okay, okay. You're right. You're right."

"Would you like to join us for a nightcap, perhaps?" He asks you, brightening.

"No, no, I ought to get to bed..." you say dismissively, glancing down at your watch. The thought of spending more time in there with Moody's brooding presence and Ludo Bagman's suffocating energy is rather unpleasant to you now.

"Have a good night, professor."

You smile at him and he nods as you leave and he enters the room once again.

⁠✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

Before you know it, October turns to November and the 3rd sneaks up on you, whacking you in the face with cruel realisation when you see its date circled several times in red ink on your calendar and dotted with little hearts.

Sirius' birthday.

It always feels weird. Like your wedding anniversary, like your own birthday. It's weird to not have him here with you to celebrate. It's hard to remember birthdays that you weren't together for.

♡*⁠。♡*⁠。

November, 1976

"Happy birthday!" You quickly reach up and wrap your arms around Sirius, giving him a short hug that part of you wishes was longer. It's hard to bite down the urge to just grab and kiss his beautiful lips without a care in the world.

"Thank you, dearest," Sirius says, bowing dramatically to you. James comes bounding down the dormitory stairs after him and forcefully stretches a party hat string over Sirius' head to match his own, muttering a complaint about his mop of dark hair getting in the way.

"I said it first!" James says to you competitively, wagging his finger. "As soon as he woke up, in fact! I was the first to wish him a happy sixteenth!"

Sirius raises his eyebrows. "As soon as you woke me up. Poor me, torn from my blissful sleep by an errant goblin!"

James gives Sirius a shove, who just laughs. He's got such a lovely laugh, you can't help but smile at him. He looks good this morning. He's pulled his long hair back into a half-up, half-down style, and two silver studs adorn his earlobes. You can see one of his tattoos peaking out from under the top of his unbuttoned shirt. You've never seen all of his tattoos, but from what you've been told there are many, and they're everywhere. You really want to see them all — and getting to see the rest of his body would just be an added bonus.

"Ugh, if you're really going to ogle him that much, just ask him out," comes Alice's hiss in your ear, as she and Lily come down the stairs.

You swat her hand away. "Gross."

She rolls her eyes, unimpressed, as she jabs her fingers into your sides and you jump, letting out an involuntary yelp.

"Alice, you bitch — "

"Lily!"

James has just caught sight of Lily and the pupils of his eyes dilate so much that you're expecting them to pop out of his head. Lily groans when she sees him, increasing her pace and grabbing Alice's arm, pulling her through the common room, saying something about getting breakfast. Alice shrugs her shoulders at you as she's tugged out of the portrait hole.

"Wait, Lily, wait!" James calls desperately, hurrying to catch up to his beloved Evans.

You exchange a glance with Sirius now that the two of you have been left alone, laughing at James' antics.

"Do you think she's even close to saying yes?"

"Not a chance," you respond simply, chuckling. "She hates him more than anything in the world, apparently."

"Fair. I do too," Sirius agrees and you giggle.

"Oh, I got you a present, by the way!" You remember, pulling the clasp off your bag and reaching inside to grab a hold of a small box wrapped neatly in red and gold paper.

Sirius' eyes widen. He hadn't expected you to get him a present. "You didn't have to get me anything — "

"Nonsense! We're friends, aren't we? And friends get each other presents on their birthdays," you say with a smile, handing him the box.

He raises his eyebrows, tapping the item with one of his long, dainty fingers, one adorned with two silver rings. "How do I know you're not only doing this so I have to get you a present on your next birthday?"

You grin mischievously, winking at him. "I never reveal my secrets. Now go on, open it!"

Sirius begins to tear away at the paper, revealing a brand-new red and gold scarf — Gryffindor colours. He pulls it out and holds it up, inspecting it.

"I noticed your current one has gotten a bit shoddy-looking, so..." you chuckle sheepishly.

Sirius smiles genuinely at you. "Thank you, really. I love it."

He throws it around his neck and pumps his chest out exaggeratedly, smirking expectantly at you. "Well? How do I look?"

"Fabulous, Sirius. Absolutely fabulous," you deadpan.

He grins. "I knew it. I'm gorgeous."

You roll your eyes, placing your hands on his shoulders and steering him through the common room. "So modest. Come on, I'm starved, let's get breakfast."

"Not without us, I hope," Remus says as he appears behind you, Peter in tow.

"Morning, you two," you greet with a smile.

"Mornin'," Peter replies, smiling at you before he returns to rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

You chuckle at Remus and Peter, both wearing party hats that match Sirius'. You point up at them. "Do I get one?"

"You can have mine," Remus says quickly, reaching up to pull his off. "Please."

You wave your hands. "Oh, no. You're rocking that hat, Moony. I can't take that away from you."

His shoulders slump in disappointment as you stop him from pulling the hat off, laughing.

He looks at Peter, who just shrugs defeatedly. "James will only force it back onto you if you take it off."

"He'd probably put a permanent sticking charm on it," Sirius says as your group clambers out of the portrait hole. "Then you'd never get it off."

The four of you make your way down the corridor, travelling down the spiral staircase you all know so well. You wave at a few portraits on the wall as you pass, receiving a few smiles and greetings in return.

"Oh, Peter, I finished that book you gave me," you tell him. "Saltwater Sentiments?"

"What did you think of it?"

"I loved it! Godric, I actually couldn't put it down," you say excitedly. "Like, I was brushing my teeth last night with my toothbrush in one hand and the book in the other."

"Me too! I read it in like a day," Peter responds, matching your enthusiasm.

"Oh, oh, and you know that part where Lyra has to kill Evascus? I sobbed," you say dramatically. "I was genuinely getting emotional over it and I remember audibly saying 'what the fuck' to that part."

"You're so right — "

"Oh, yeah, I read that too," Sirius chimes in suddenly, looking expectantly at the two of you.

Peter and you stop talking, turning to the birthday boy himself in slight confusion.

"Really?" you say, surprised. "You read it?"

"Yeah," he says simply. "Why do you find that so surprising?"

You shrug. "Just...doesn't really seem your type of book, if I'm honest. Didn't have you pegged as the emotional romance type."

"You never mentioned reading it before," Peter starts, confused. "I offered it to you ages ago but you said — "

"That I'd already read it!" Sirius cuts across quickly, smiling weirdly and chuckling. "You, my dear friend, have a terrible memory, haha!"

Peter just stares back at him, eyes squinted and mouth agape in confusion. Remus sighs, shaking his head as you enter the Great Hall.

You grab hold of Sirius' arm and reach up to whisper in his ear. "Nice try."

Sirius ignores the tingle that shoots down his spine at your soft voice in his ear.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he says, feigning oblivion and hurrying up to the table so he can sit himself down beside James, who is still trying to talk to Lily.

You slot yourself in beside Lily, starting to pile breakfast items onto your plate.

"Sorry that we left you back there," Lily says to you. "There was an irritating pest trying to cling to me. Seriously, we've moved places on this table about five times already and he follows us every single time."

You snort, giving Lily an unsurprised look. "Can't say I'm shocked."

"Ugh, I wish he'd just leave me alone already," she says quietly, giving him a distasteful look across the table.

"Hey, James," you say, taking a sip from your orange juice.

"Yeah?"

"Lily wants you to fuck off."

Alice chokes on her water, sending her into a violent coughing fit and Sirius puts an arm around James defensively.

"Don't say that!" he says in mock seriousness. "You know he's very sensitive."

"Hey!" James exclaims, giving Sirius a highly affronted look.

"Being sensitive isn't a bad thing, James," Alice says. "Lots of girls like guys who are sensitive."

"Any girl that'd like him would have to be mad," Lily mutters disdainfully.

James sighs, nodding his head at Lily, smiling confidently at her. "You'll fall in love with me yet, Lilyflower. Just you wait."

You gag in true disgust. "Please don't ever say that again. I think I'll actually be sick."

"Same," Lily groans. James opens his mouth to say more, but doesn't get the chance to when two pretty Hufflepuff girls approach your table.

"Happy birthday, Sirius," one of them purrs, batting her eyelashes flirtatiously at him. Something twists your gut and you watch the scene before you unfold, biting your tongue to stop yourself from saying something nasty. The same girl pulls a piece of parchment out of her pocket, and bends over to slip it into his hand, her hand lingering on his for far longer than you'd like. She very clearly has her shirt unbuttoned more than usual, giving everyone at the table a clear view of her cleavage, especially Sirius. "A little present for you, yeah?"

You look at Alice, raising your eyebrows. The girl straightens back up, smiling suggestively at Sirius, before turning with her friend and giggling their way back to the Hufflepuff table.

Sirius unfolds the parchment and you watch as his eyes skim the paper, grimacing at one point.

"What's it say?" James asks curiously, craning his neck to try and read it.

Sirius pushes him away, eyes still fixed on the note. He glances up at you at one point, expression unreadable.

"Meet me in the sixth floor corridor tonight at 7 if you want a real present," he reads aloud and you fail to hide your wince. "I can show you some of my special magic."

Your group takes in a collective, entirely grossed-out gasp.

You push your breakfast plate away from you. "Well, that just made me lose my appetite."

"I regret asking," James says, a disgusted look on his face. "I don't know what I was expecting, but a sex-capade invitation was not it."

"James!" you and Remus groan in unison.

"Who the fuck says sex-capade? Just disgusting, James. Get a grip."

"What? That's what it is!" James replies defensively. "Or are you gonna pretend that she just wants to show Sirius a bit of wingardium leviosa?"

You snort, bursting into laughter and banging your hand on the table.

"Well, I guess we all know now not to bother looking for Sirius this evening," Remus remarks, sipping from his goblet and raising his eyebrows at Sirius over the rim.

"Ha-ha. You're all very funny," Sirius says blankly, folding his arms at the lot of you. "But I won't be going."

Your eyes widen, cocking an eyebrow at him. "Oh, really? Sirius Black is passing up on the opportunity to spend the evening with a pretty girl? Who are you?"

"I'm already spending this evening with a pretty girl," he replies immediately. "One far prettier than her, I'll have you know."

Sirius Black, of course. Every time you expect him to have matured a little, to realise that perhaps running around after every girl in the school will get him nowhere and will only get him in about half the school's bad books, he goes right back to his player ways.

You like to think you take offense to his behaviour because of your strong moral code, because you can't stand for the way he jumps from person to person, forgetting that each of them have feelings and emotions he ought to care about. But, to say a truth you pretend isn't true and you don't like to admit, you just wish he'd take more interest in you instead.

"Ah, good for you," you say, a tinge of agitated displeasure sneaking into your voice. "And who might that be?"

"Well, you are going to spend time with me on my birthday, right?"

Your mouth drops open stupidly and you try to find words somewhere in your blanking brain, the opportune time for a quick rebuttal swiftly passing you by.

Alice 'oohs' loudly, giggling, and you sit straighter, attempting to appear confident and unfazed by his flirts. "Yeah, well, I'm afraid it'll take far more than saying I'm pretty to get me in your corner, Black. You've got to try a bit harder than that."

You're lying through your teeth, of course. You've been in his corner for so long now, you're not even sure it's a corner anymore. You're in his circle, his triangle, his fucking graduated cylinder for all you care. He has you hooked around his little finger and you don't think he even realises it.

From across the table, Sirius just winks at you. A silent confirmation that he's up for that challenge.

♡*⁠。♡*⁠。

→ all kinds of interaction appreciated ♡

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#sirius black x you #sirius black #sirius black x reader #harry potter #the marauders #angst #angst with a happy ending #fanfiction #hp #fanfic #marauders #ff #wizarding world #sirius orion black

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marleneoftheopera · 5 months

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Holiday Audio/Video Gifts!

For the holiday season, here are some audio gifts from various shows and one Phantom video! The link to them is here and the info is below the cut:

Happy holidays and I hope you are all having time for some rest!

Audios

POTO

Jon Robyns, Paige Blankson, Joe Griffiths-Brown, Kelly Glyptis, Matt Harrop, Adam Linstead, Francesca Ellis, David Kristopher Brown, Maiya Hikasa August 22, 2023; London

Tim Howar, Harriet Jones, Nadim Naaman, Lara Martins, Nicholas Garrett, Arvid Larsen, John Ellis, Valerie Cutko, Kelsi Boyden March 19, 2023; Greece

Josh Piterman, Corinne Cowling (u/s), Danny Whitehead, Katy Hanna (u/s), Ross Dawes, Kris Manuel (u/s), Sophie Caton (u/s), Paul Ettore Tabone, Georgia Ware October 17, 2019; London Matinee.

Jeremy Stolle (u/s), Samantha Hill, Greg Mills (u/s), Michele McConnell, Richard Poole (u/s), Tim Jerome, Ellen Harvey, Christian Sebek, Kara Klein, Scott Mikita (u/s) March 9, 2013; Broadway Matinee performance.

John Owen-Jones, Deborah Dutcher, Matthew Cammelle, Bruce Montague, Charles Shirvell, Margaret Mary Kane (u/s), Janet Murphy, Jeremy Secomb, Lucy Middleton January 5, 2002; London

Love Never Dies

Tam Mutu, Celia Graham, David Thaxton, Daniel Dowling August 25, 2011; London Tam Mutu's last performance.

Les Miserables

Christopher Jacobsen (u/s Jean Valjean), Stewart Clarke (Javert), Katie Hall (Fantine), Will Callan (Marius), Lulu-Mae Pears (Cosette), Amena El-Kindy (Eponine), Luke Kempner (Thenardier), Claire Machin (Madame Thenardier), Dejan Van der Flyert (Enjolras), Alex Shaw (Gavroche), Clohe Sullivan (Little Cosette), Tom Hext (Grantaire/Majordomo), Adam Pearce (Bishop/Claquesous), Ellie Ann Lowe (Factory Girl), Jordan Simon Pollard (u/s Foreman/Bujon), Matt Dempsey (Bamatabopis/Lesgles), Annabelle Aquino, Hazel Baldwin, Emily Olive Boyd, Ben Culleton, Matt Hayden, Sam Kipling, Anouk Van Lake, Harry Lake, Ben Oatley, Jonathan Stevens, Phoebe Williams, Ollie Wray September 28, 2023; London 15,000th show in London and the 5th show for the new company.

Sunset Boulevard

Nicole Scherzinger (Norma), Tom Francis (Joe Gillis), David Thaxton (Max von Mayerling), Grace Hodgett Young (Betty Shaefer), Ahmed Hamaad (Artie), Tyler Davis (Sheldrake), Charlotte Jaconelli (Johanna), Jon Tsouras (Cecil B. de Mille) September 28, 2023; London

Rebecca

Laureen Jones (I), Richard Carson (Maxim de Winter), Kara Lane (Mrs Danvers), Sara Harlington (Beatrice), Neil Moor (Giles), Piers Bate (Frank Crewley), David Breeds (Ben), Alex James Ward (Jack Favell), Shrley Jameson (Mrs Van Hopper), Nicholas Lumley (Colonel Julian) September 27, 2023; Off-West End

POTO Video

Ian Jon Bourg, Olivia Safe (u/s), Kyle Gonyea 2001; Hamburg, Germany VOB files. One of the most legendary Phantom's opposite one of the youngest Christine's!

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sincericida · 4 months

Note

I mean, I’m not opposed to Tobey and Andrew doing another movie together (preferably not spiderman related) but not like this……..

Exactly! I would love to see them again as their versions of Peter Parker, but not with a precarious and bad script, counting only on our love for the characters/ performers. A dirty fan service, just for the money.

Context

#ask box #my thoughts #about putting peter 2 and peter 3 in spider man 4 #sony acrew you #sony just wants to maximize profit #sony trying to make up money lost on morbius and will be lost on madame webb and kraven #sony nonsenses #i prefer the movie to be more grounded #andrew garfield #tobey maguire #tom holland #spider man no way home #ask anon #ask response

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bibbityboppitybillyharvgrove · 6 months

Text

Always There - Chapter Seven: S.Snape

Summary: Y/N Potter was left with a baby to care for after her brother and sister-in-law were murdered by Voldemort. One person was there for her, a person she didn’t expect but soon became her comfort person, Severus Snape. During Harry’s third year at Hogwarts and her third year as Herbology professor, a few old friends come around again. Y/N has to handle the feelings of these old friends being around again as well as handle her feelings for a certain potions master all while she tries to hide these things from her godson.

Series Masterlist

My full Masterlist

Pairings: Severus Snape x Female Professor Reader, Potter!Reader x friend!Remus, Sister!Reader x James Potter, Potter!Reader x Friend!Sirius

Chapter Warnings: Female Reader, Potter Reader(No physical description of reader) probably shitty writing, Harry growing up in a loving home, Happy Snape, sappy Snape, flashbacks, mentions of death, mentions of James' death

Series Warnings: Female Reader, Potter Reader (No physical description of reader) probably shitty writing, OOC Snape, Harry grows up in a loving environment, mentions of death and murder, poorly written angst, Remus is a shitty friend, poorly written pining,

Please let me know how I can improve my writing and being more inclusive to POC as I am whiter than white. Please also let me know if I have to add more to the warnings! My messages are open as well as my asks!

I am starting a taglist so leave either a comment or something in my asks if you would like to be tagged in any of my works or just this series!

Author's Note: I am going through a bit of a writers block at the moment so please bare with me. If anyone has any ideas they can give me I will gladly take some to see if I can get over this writers block.

Please let me know how I can improve or if you find any errors! Correct me, don't be afraid to! I want to improve my writing and become a better writer so any feedback or advise is welcomed!

Word Count: 1870

My asks are open for questions, suggestions and feedback!

Feedback is welcomed and encouraged!

Enjoy!

not my gif

The time had finally come for the naming of the champions, all of the students who had wanted to put their name in had already done so, only two underage wizards trying and failing to put their names into the goblet, of course those two wizards being the Weasley twins. It was right after the feast, the goblet getting placed in front of Dumbledore’s owl lectern. Y/N taking her place between Severus and Hagrid. After the three champions were called, one more name came out of the goblet, Albus grabbing the paper and reading the name in shock. “Harry Potter,” The man said. Y/N’s heart dropped as she gripped Severus’ forearm. “Harry Potter!” The named boy got up and walked into the back room where all of the other champions were.

The herbologist got up out of her chair and rushed after her nephew, the three headmasters, Barty Crouch, Minerva and Severus following after her. “Harry James Potter! How in Godric’s name did your name get into the goblet of fire!?” Y/N asked her nephew with her voice raised, she was panicking, she was scared. Somebody was targeting her nephew but she couldn’t pinpoint who it could be. She knew it wasn’t Karkaroff, Severus had already eased her mind about him, it wasn’t Madame Maxime and she knew for a fact that none of the teachers at the school would possibly endanger the boy like that.

“I don’t know! I promise Aunt Y/N, I have no idea how it happened! I didn’t put my name in and I didn’t ask anyone to put my name in! I swear!” Harry promised his godmother.

“Crouch, is there anything we could do to waive this? He can’t possibly compete in the tournament, he’s underage,” Severus asked the man.

“I’m afraid not, it has a binding spell once the name comes out of the goblet, he must compete,” Crouch responded. Y/N had damn near collapsed at the news, only staying on her feet because Severus had caught her.

“No! He can’t compete! It’s too dangerous! He could die! There must be something you can do!” Y/N shouted at the head of the Magical Law Enforcement.

“Severus, get Y/N out of here, I shall handle this,” Dumbledore directed the man. Severus had nodded and began to pull her away from the room. She was putting up one hell of a fight even though she had little to no energy in her, she would always find some for her boy, no matter what. Severus knew this and he knew just how to handle her when she was in this kind of state.

“Love, let’s go get some tea, you can talk to Harry later,” He spoke gently in her ear.

“No, I can’t leave him, you know I can’t leave him Sev!” She replied back, her voice raised. Severus gave Albus a look, shaking his head, telling him that she wasn’t going to move until she knew that Harry would be safe.

“Barty, there must be something we can do, he is far too young to compete,” Dumbledore had tried.

“I’m afraid not, Albus. The boy must compete,” Crouch responded before walking away. The headmaster dismissed the others, allowing Y/N, Severus and Harry to have the room alone. The woman and her nephew sat on the floor next to each other.

“You need to be careful Harry. You need to be extra careful. There is no way for you to get out of this, you must compete but I need you to be safe. I need you, you are my boy, you and Severus are all I have and I can’t afford to lose either of you, not yet,” She explained to her nephew who soaked in her words and listened intently.

“I understand, I’ll be careful, I promise,” Harry responded, hugging his aunt tightly, “I love you, Aunt Y/N.”

“I love you too, Harry.”

Once the pair split, Harry went back to his common room and Severus escorted Y/N to her quarters. The two sat and talked about the concerns she had, like how she hadn’t wanted Harry to die, how she didn’t want to be alone, how she didn’t want to see her only family member put their life on the line for some stupid tournament. She voiced her concerns about someone in the castle targeting Harry however she couldn’t pinpoint who it could be. There were so many new people in the castle this year, all of them could be after Harry for all she knew.

She didn’t end up sleeping that night, her mind racing with thoughts and memories. Her mind going back to the night James and Lily died, the night her life changed forever. But then a happier memory would show up and interrupt her worst.

It was her third year at Hogwarts, James and the rest of the Marauders’ fourth. She was in the library studying for her exams and doing homework, Remus sitting across from her doing the same thing. She had just learned about Boggarts in her Defense Against the Dark Arts class, having to write an essay on them after facing one. She had been quieter than usual, none of the other Marauders knowing what to do or how to approach her. James had sent Remus to try and pry out what had been bothering her, devising a plan of the two studying together like that always had and going from there.

“Boggarts, huh? Annoying bastards aren’t they?” Remus broke the silence that lingered between the two of them. She let out a hum in agreement as she continued writing her essay. It wasn’t like her, she usually gave Remus a look whenever he let out a swear word as he rarely ever did. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I’m fine,” Y/N replied, a cold tone to her voice instead of the warmth that usually graced it.

“Dove, I know something is wrong, you can tell me. You can talk to me,” Remus practically begged her.

“Seriously Rem, I’m fine. Nothing is wrong, I just need to get these exams out of the way and I’ll be back to normal.”

“If you insist. I’m gonna head back to the common room, you gonna come with?”

“No, I’m gonna stay here and finish up. Thank you for your concern Remmy, but I’m fine.” With her comment, Remus left the library. Within a few minutes, Severus took Remus’ place at the table. She was too busy with her essay to notice who it was, assuming it was her brother, “James, I’m fine, just leave me alone.”

“It’s not James,” Severus replied, making her look up in surprise.

“Oh! Sorry Severus, I hadn’t noticed it was you who sat down. My bloody brother and his friends have been pestering me all day,” She apologized to the boy who gave her a small smile.

“No need to say sorry. Why have they been bothering you all day?”

“They keep saying I’m acting strange. I will say I’m not acting like my usual self but exams are coming up and I have so much homework,” She ranted to him.

“Boggarts? Does this change have anything to do with them?” He asked her, she visibly deflated.

“Maybe,” Y/N mumbled.

“Would you like to talk about it? You know I won’t judge you,” Severus asked her, his voice softening for her.

“My boggart was my brother. It was seeing my brother dead, that was my boggart and it’s been all I think about because I don’t think I can live without him. I know he’s awful to you, trust me I’ve tried telling him to stop but he’s my best friend. He’s been with me my whole life and I can’t see my life without him.”

“What are you thinking about, love?” Severus’ voice broke her out of her trance.

“My third year when you sat with me in the library, do you remember that?”

“Of course I do, you told me about your boggart that day. I’m assuming it’s changed,” Severus replied to her, she nodded at his observation, “You want to talk about it or do you want to keep it to yourself?”

“It’s pretty much the same but instead of seeing James dead, I see Harry and you…dead. I’m scared it’s going to come true again, it was a shock enough to see that my first boggart ended up coming true, what happens if this one does?” She was worried, her first boggart was witnessing her brother dying, that ended up coming true. Now her boggart was the two most important people in her life dying in front of her, what if that ended up coming true as well? She was panicked, her mind kept racing.

“It won’t come true, not again. You have me, right at your side and together we will keep Harry safe. As long as I have you, I will be safe,” Severus reassured her. His comment did make her feel slightly better, the weight lessening on her shoulders. They talked for a while longer before he had to go meet up with Minerva and Albus. When he left, she put out a note that she would be in the greenhouses tending to her plants, taking cautious care of her venomous tentacula and wolfsbane.

She hadn’t realized it was the next day until some of her students began filing in for their first class of the day. Before she could begin her lesson, Dumbledore had interrupted. “Professor Potter is unwell and needs to rest, I will be taking over for the day. Professor, off to your quarters and rest up,” Albus had explained.

“Oh, I’m fin-”

“You didn’t sleep at all Potter, go to sleep in your quarters. It is not a question, it is an order.” She sighed but listened, heading back to her quarters where there was a plate of food and a cup of tea waiting for her on the table. A note sitting beside the plate reading ‘I sent Albus to fetch you and send you back here. You need to rest my love, eat up and take a nap. I’ll be there when you wake up. I love you ~ Severus’. Her heart melted to her feet as she read the note, it was little things like this that showed her just how much he loved her. So she did as he told her, she ate her breakfast, drank her tea and put herself to bed. The second her head hit the pillows, she was out like a light. Severus returned to her quarters right after the classes for the day had ended, finding her still fast asleep on her bed.

He sat beside her and watched as she slept, the way her eyebrows creased and her nose scrunched, the way she would smile every once in a while, and the way she reached for him the moment he sat down, knowing he was sitting right there. He swore to himself that he would keep her safe even if it ended up killing him. He swore to himself that the Potter’s would stay safe, no matter what it takes.

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