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fantasywriter19 · 10 months

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1. Melody Riddle and the Sorcerer's Stone Ch.7 Friends and Family

Despite the overwhelming anxiety I felt for the choice I realized she must have made, I was still relieved to see her. With a shout of, "Mom!" I bolted towards her and wrapped my arms around her in a tight hug. She squeezed me back hard enough for me to burst, but I decided against noting on it.

Wow, it’s a great comfort to see her after so long. Now I know the meaning of the saying that 'absence makes the heart grow fonder.' “You.. you had the baby. How did that work out? Where is he.. or she?"

"Oh, it went very well!" she said, pulling away from me with a forced smile. "I did what needed to be done..." her smile reduced to a frown, and she gave a small sigh. "You and I no longer exist. As far as Jim recalls, the baby boy appeared on his doorstep from a random fling he had. Your classmates don't remember you, and none of Jim's friends remember anything about us."

She left the baby boy with him with no memory…? "Wha – but... is there never going to be a time where we get to meet him? I mean, he's likely going to grow up magical, too, right? So why couldn’t —?"

"Eventually, I'm sure," she said evasively, immediately turning to Professor Snape. "Thank you… erm… Snape."

"For what?" he asked her coldly, his black eyes icy. Icier than I’d ever seen them.

"For watching over my daughter while I took care of business," she said, ignoring his tone. "Give Dumbledore my thanks as well."

He inclined his head, and then Disapparated.

"Do you know him… personally?” I asked curiously as she led me away from the bank. Despite every fiber in my being wishing to demand she explain what her thought process was when she initiated everything, it seemed blatantly obvious from the way she’d avoided doing so that she wasn't going to talk about it, but... why not keep him? Why not tell Jim? Why couldn’t they both come? Why am I not being clued in on important details?

"Oh, yes," she said with a half-hearted shrug. “Bit of a small grudge there. Did you get into my Gringotts account all right?"

Small grudge? “You’re lucky I thought to bring this key,” I told her, fingering the chain around my neck. I vaguely wondered — since she knew Professor Snape — whether I should ask her about Professor Quirrell. He’d recognized her name without hesitation.

"Thank goodness for that. Now, let's get all your supplies! We’ll go to Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions first!" mom said, coaxing a big smile back on her face and pointing towards said shop.

When we walked inside, a squat witch dressed in mauve robes walked over to us and smiled kindly at me. "Hogwarts?" she asked.

My mom and I nodded.

She beckoned me alone to the back of the shop to two footstools, and had me stand on top of one. Then she brought some black robe fabric and draped it over my head, pinning it to just the right length for me.

A couple minutes later I saw another family walk in with a boy my age who had a pale, pointed face. He looked a lot like his dad, with pale blonde hair. Why couldn't I look like mom in that same way? Instead, I look.. like a stranger.

Another witch brought him to the back of the shop and set him on the stool next to me, doing the same measurements on him.

At first, I didn't pay much attention to him, because I noticed his parents started talking to my mom with shocked looks on their faces — her own expression being that of embarrassment. I studied their conversation, wishing I could read lips. Then they waved courteously to her before leaving.

"You starting at Hogwarts, too?" the boy asked me in a bored tone.

“Uh yeah... I’m starting this year." I said, still preoccupied with staring at my mom. She looked a little pale as she paced around.

"You have a strange accent!" he exclaimed in surprise, causing me to have to look at him in slight bewilderment. He had an extremely gleeful look on his face, and I couldn't help but think about how strange that felt for me. Someone who was actually interested in talking to me — including Fred and George Weasley but, they were oddballs anyway, so they didn't count.

"I'm from the United States, that's why,” I said. “I mean, it’s the same situation for me. Come here, and everyone else has an accent."

"Why are you here then? Isn't there that school in America — Ilvermorny?" he probed, his curiosity piqued.

"I don’t... I don't know," I said with a shrug. How much should I even tell him? I wondered. I guess mom did say I had to make friends, and if he's in my year then it counts toward something more… stable. I mean.. he seems extremely privileged, but I suppose beggars can't be choosers. "My mom just wanted me to go to Hogwarts. It's where she went before she moved to the United States."

“Oh, well, I suppose she would,” he said, still staring at me with interest. "What's your name?"

"Melody Riddle. And yours?" I asked. I guess he will be a friend?

“I’m Malfoy, Draco Malfoy.... I wonder, what do you think of.. Mudbloods at the school? D’you think it’d be any different from America’s school?” he asked.

I read that term ‘Mudblood’ somewhere. A sort of racial slur, basically, against Muggleborn witches and wizards. He's one of those people mom warned me about ... but hey, I really should avoid making enemies at school, least of all with someone as high up as he must be. But come on, I have no clue what American students are like about all this. "I could care less," I replied diplomatically. “So long as I have nothing to do with them.”

He was immediately.. strangely.. eager. “Brilliant. That must be your mother waiting for you over there, but where's your father?"

"I don't know," I said, the words leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. "I've never met my dad before."

He changed the subject, as if to spare me any more feelings of humiliation on the fact. “Do you know what House you're going to be in?"

"No, I don't." I said, pondering over it yet again. I really knew I should've done research into the Houses while I was at Hogwarts, but I only knew about the Gryffindor House because of the twins. And I’d thought with some hope that I would be in that House just because they were there. But Draco, however...

"Ah, well no one really knows, I suppose. But, I do know I'll be in Slytherin. My whole family was.”

Well, Draco just informed me of another new House. What is the whole point of these Houses? What makes them different from one another? I only hope that he won't ask anything else on the subject of a whole line of things I know nothing about. I'd probably be branded a Muggleborn and get bullied for it. Like I need that in a school I’m going to be stuck in for — what was it? — seven years?

Madam Malkin, thankfully, saved me the time as she handed me the set of robes. "All right dear, you're done."

I hopped off of the stool. “I’ll see you at Hogwarts!" I burst to Draco, running my new uniform over to my mom.

“See you on the train!” he said with considerable excitement.

I guess I made a real impression on him. He made an impression on me, too. Just how many more people in the wizarding world are like him? How many are like Fred and George who are fun and accepting?

"You made a new friend?" mom asked, still a little pale, as we walked out of the shop.

"Yes, I think so… You know his parents?" I asked.

“Oh, yes, I know them,” she said, very quietly. She'd said it in such a way that it felt smart to leave the subject alone. Something was off about it. Something always seemed to be off about her now.

Ugh, change the subject again. ”Um, mom.... What House were you in when you went to Hogwarts? And what are the different Houses for?"

"Argh! I should've told you a bit about Hogwarts before you left! All right then, there are four Houses. Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. I was in Ravenclaw. I'll find a way to explain more later, but in the meantime...." Mom steered me right into Flourish and Blotts where there were many, many large shelves of books. There was the smell of fresh pages and, interestingly enough, leather due to the strange majority of leather book bindings.

As mom showed the shop owner the list of books I needed, I couldn’t help but ask, “Then how do you know Draco's parents? They were in Slytherin.”

"How do you know that?" she asked, preferring to place her whole attention at pointing out the books on the list than to look at me.

"Well, Draco — their son — told me his whole family's been in Slytherin… I guess my choices in friends— because I met two Gryffindors back in May— place me in either Slytherin or Gryffindor."

"Don't ever tell that to Draco, or whoever you know in Gryffindor,” Mom deadpanned quickly.

“Well, why not?" I asked in surprise.

She finally turned to face me as the shop owner went to the shelves for my books and brought them back a stack at a time. "Gryffindors and Slytherins purely hate each other. So, that’s a warning to you not to vote one or the other with Draco Malfoy if he's so sure he'll be in Slytherin. Slytherins consider the Gryffindors to be— in a sense— wannabe Slytherins as Severus, Lucius and Narcissa told me when we were younger."

"Lucius and Narcissa?" I asked.

"Draco's parents."

"Oh... so you were friends with Professor Snape?"

"There you are!" the owner of the shop said, handing us the books. Mom took the chance to look over the books rather than answer the question.

“Mom,” I said. She slowly turned to look nervously over at me. A strong sense of guilt overtook me at the sight. Maybe I’ll ask everything else later, she looks immensely stressed out by my curiosity. “How are we going to carry all of this?”

“Oh, right,” she said, staring at the large pile of books before us. She took my supply list out of her pocket, "How about this? You stay here with the books. I'll go over to the Cauldron shop, buy you a pewter cauldron, and then come back. It will be able to hold all of your stuff."

“Okay,” I said. And with that, she hurried out of the store.

Shortly after, two young girls sped right in and slammed the door shut behind them. They breathed heavily with laughter as they leaned against the wall and peeked out the windows.

The one with long, dark blonde hair spoke between gasps. "Your brother... is going… to kill us!"

“Heh, he'll be fine!" the other girl said with a wave of her hand. Her short, curly brown hair bounced with her as she laughed. "Besides, I can't embarrass him in front of his friends if I'm not around. It's a win-win situation!"

"Unless he embarrasses himself by going after you," I couldn't help but quip.

"That's exactly what I'm going for!" she laughed, turning to look at me with an eager, "Hello!"

"Oh, hello!" the other girl looked over her shoulder at me with a wave, only to return to staring anxiously outside.

"Hi," I said, rubbing my arm with anticipation. Now to practice making friends with these two, “May I ask why you’re hiding from your brother?”

When she grinned, it spread so wide that it was cheshire-like, complimenting her round cheeks. “It’s my sisterly duty to be as annoying as possible! Our younger sister is a lot worse with it, so he’s lucky he’s only got me to drag around today.” She jumped up and down with excitement, “It’s going to be my first year at Hogwarts, so of course he’s going to have a hard time keeping me on a tight leash!”

“She literally means tight leash,” the other girl said, moving away from the window. “He actually attempted to put a leash on her.”

I couldn’t help my chuckle. They’d only talked to me a few minutes, but I could tell that putting a leash on her would be like trying to keep a jumping jelly bean in one spot. Making friends seemed to be easier than I originally thought.

“Oh my gosh, Addy!” the crazy girl exclaimed, turning to me to take my hand in both of hers and shake it excessively. “We’re so rude, we haven’t even introduced ourselves! I’m Becky, nice to meet you!”

Addy came over and gently pulled Becky’s hands away. ”As Becky has already said, I’m Addy. I know she’s a handful, but we’ve known each other all our lives so I can keep her… er, somewhat civil.”

Becky gave a loud chortle, “Civil? Addy, I am civil!”

“Right,” Addy replied dubiously, shaking her head slightly before turning to me with bright green eyes. “Is this your first time in the wizarding world?”

I smiled, “Yeah, how’d you know?”

“Everything looks like a new experience to you. You don’t have to worry about us, we’re not so prejudiced against Muggleborns.”

“I’m not a Muggleborn… my mom is a witch, but she raised me in the muggle world.”

“Why Hogwarts instead of Ilvermorny?” Becky asked. “I know an American when I hear one.”

“Wow,” I laughed. “You’re both very observant… my mom’s actually British. She went to Hogwarts, so she wanted me to as well.”

“Amazing… have you gotten everything you need yet?" Addy asked.

“My mom’s getting the cauldron now so I can carry all these books in it. After that, I hope I go get my wand before anything else. I’m looking forward to that,” I admitted.

"Us too!" Becky exclaimed. “The one thing I can use when I finally get in Hogwarts to prank Joey whenever I want — that’s my brother’s name, by the way.”

“I deduced as much,” I grinned.

Mom walked back into the shop with the cauldron in her arms… though she had more than just that. Inside were already the ingredients on the list and some other equipment. “Sorry I took so long, but I also went into the Apothecary for your potions ingredients and…” she put the cauldron on the counter, pointing items out as she spoke, “Wiseacre’s Wizarding Equipment for the glass phials, the brass scales and the brass telescope.”

“Hi Melody’s mother!” Becky said. “Would you mind if we steal Melody away to Ollivander’s Wand Shop?”

Mom looked up at her in surprise, “Oh, I didn’t even notice you two.” I watched as her shoulders relaxed and she smiled, “You know what? That sounds like a wonderful idea. You go ahead with your new friends, and I’ll be there shortly.”

It was all the ‘go ahead’ the girls needed to grab my hands and race out of the shop. I struggled to keep up as they continued to speed down the alley.

“I think I just saw Joey!” Addy yelled.

“Hurry up!” Becky giggled. “I can’t let my brother drag me home yet! This way!”

Within moments she led us toward a narrow, shabby shop and swiftly yanked the door open. Walking in, a bell rang somewhere within the shop and we paused to catch our breaths. I sat down on a lone, spindly chair to wait for the shop owner.

"Hello," a quiet voice said, making us all jump in surprise. The person chuckled, "Don't mean to scare."

Turning I saw an old man standing right there behind the desk, looking at me — and I do mean me…. Not Becky nor Addy — with curiously unblinking silvery-like gray eyes, much like my own. A little too much like my own. Mine and mom’s.

“Hi, Mr. Ollivander,” Addy and Becky chorused.

The owner of the shop… does he have any employees? It seems.. empty.

“Nice to see you’re both finally starting Hogwarts,” he told them politely. Looking at me, he said, “But I’m sure I’ve never met you before…”

“No, I’m from the United States. I’m Melody Riddle.”

A look of immediate recognition crossed his features as he stared at me, “Would your mother’s name happen to be Orele?”

My eyes widened, “How did you —?”

He turned to Addy before I could finish my sentence. “I will start with you, Miss Gentz.” Mr. Ollivander gestured her over, talked quietly, and then started searching through the shelves upon shelves of wand boxes while a measuring tape measured her arm in midair by itself. When he spoke at any point after that, it was out loud as he pulled out wand after wand only to swiftly snatch them from Addy’s hand when nothing happened.

“Is his memory always that good, or does he just know you two that well?” I asked Becky.

“Oh no, his memory is absolutely amazing,” Becky gushed. “He remembers my parents, Addy’s parents, my brother and Addy’s siblings. He remembers every wand he’s ever sold to every person who ever bought a wand from him.”

My mouth dropped open, “That’s impossible, isn’t it?”

"Aha!" Mr. Ollivander shouted out.

I turned back to where Addy now held a nice, goldish-looking wand with a skinny handle. It looked only slightly longer than my mom's wand.

"Applewood with dragon heartstring, twelve and a half inches, and slightly springy!" he said, putting Addy's new wand into its box and wrapping it in brown paper. He looked very excited to me, like it was the best part of his day just to do this. Every. Single. Day.

"Now, Miss Figsund," he said, beckoning her over to him as Addy went to stand next to me, holding her wand box tenderly in her hands. Again, hespoke to Becky softly before going through the same process of trying out wands with her. The only difference between Becky and Addy were the reactions of the wands that were wrong for them. Where Addy’s did nothing, for Becky’s something would explode somewhere in the room — his inkpot, a flower vase, and a wheel from his ladder.

Addy and I could only watch, glancing at each other uncertainly every time something else exploded. There were so many different wands that I wondered how on earth it was possible for him to choose what wand goes with who. And how this man was so patient to work at it until he found the perfect fit.

“How are we supposed to know which wand is the right one?” I asked Addy in a whisper.

“In Ollivander’s perspective, the wand is what chooses us. It’s really a fascinating process to watch, I’ve seen it done so many times before with my brothers and sister. I have to say though, it’s a lot more fun to do it yourself. You’ll see.”

He made an exclamation again when he found Becky's wand, it was shorter than Addy’s. Is that an indication of size, future and present? I wondered. Or… something else?

“Red Oak with unicorn hair, ten inches, and reasonably supple."

Becky bounded over to us with her wand in hand, refusing to let him box it up.

“And you," Mr. Ollivander said ominously, looking at me. I looked nervously at him and walked slowly towards him, feeling slightly awkward. “Miss Riddle, do you know which wands your parents received?" he asked.

I shook my head, admitting, “I’m surprised you know I’m not Muggleborn.”

“I have a clear idea of who your parents are based on your eyes and your face. Your name merely confirmed to me who your father was.”

My eyes widened, I look like my father?.. What does he mean by was?

“Let's see,” he said, looking up as if into his thoughts. “I remember your mother getting her wand in here as if it was just yesterday. When she got accepted to Hogwarts, she caught the interest of a fairly unique wand. It has unicorn hair, measures twelve inches, and is very reasonably supple.”

Wait, why say 'when she got accepted' when that is quite obvious due to her coming to get the wand? “Can I ask how the wand chooses?" I asked him curiously.

He looked at me with a source of interest and confusion. "The wands have personalities, too, young lady.” Then he changed the subject… to my biological dad. “Your father on the other hand earned a Yew wand, with phoenix feather, thirteen and a half inches, supple.”

He obviously knows exactly who he was. "Who was my dad?"

"I believe that's for your mother to divulge when she decides to,” Mr. Ollivander said, waving the subject away and walking into the different aisles to find me a wand.

I was slightly annoyed with him, and not only because he wouldn’t tell me about the man, but because I also realized that he hadn’t told me about the wood of mom’s wand. He told me my dad’s, but not hers… what is it with everything today?

"Which is your wand arm?" he asked, taking out the tape measure.

"My right, I suppose,” I said, holding it out.

He walked away to pull out some more wands while the tape measure did its job, even checking my height.

Each wand I tried, he snatched away as soon as I started to raise it. I was relieved that I wasn’t exploding anything, but it was still jarring for each wand to get pulled from my grasp with such force.

I didn't understand the idea that the wand chooses the wizard until he finally gave me a wand that let me know just from touching it — the comfort and feeling of protection that came with holding it. I felt warmth between my fingers, and I raised it, almost surprised Mr. Ollivander had not snatched this one away yet. Red sparks came out of the end of the wand and I felt a surge of pride and power.

"Ah," he said softly, "Spruce with dragon heartstring, twelve and a half inches, supple."

I handed my wand to him, and he began wrapping it slowly. I wondered if there was something wrong due to his pace, and the serious expression he wore as he worked on it.

Becky and Addy paid for their wands first, and mom walked in the door as I was paying for mine

“We must get going. Joey will throw a fit if we’re gone for much longer,” Becky said, her eyes glittering mischievously.

“We’ll see you on the train, Melody,” Addy said, rolling her eyes at Becky.

"I'll see you then,” I said. As they walked out the door I took my new wand over to mom, placing it gently in the cauldron. “Should we get going then?” I asked. Looking up at her though, her face was deathly pale as she stared down at her feet. “Mom, what's wrong?”

“Orele,” Mr. Ollivander said softly, causing my mom to slowly look up at him. "I would like to speak to you in private, if you please. Melody can wait in here, if you'll just come to the back of the shop with me."

Mom put down the cauldron and pointed at the spindly chair to tell me to sit down— which I did, for fear that she might lose her composure even further— and followed Mr. Ollivander while I stayed put in my seat. What does he want? Why does he want to talk to her in private? What’s going on? Mom seems to know everyone, and they all have something to say to her…

About five minutes later, mom stormed out and grabbed the cauldron. "Let's go —!”

"What happened?" I asked, aghast.

"Nothing, nothing," she lied, holding out her hand to me, "Let's just —”

“Orele,” Mr. Ollivander said sternly, coming from the back of the shop. “You have nowhere else to go. You might as well come home.”

“I’ll figure it out. I always do,” she retorted almost childishly, refusing to look at him.

I looked back and forth between them in confusion. It was one thing for mom to yell at me when I’d done something wrong, but she was arguing with him the way I might argue with her.

“You always have a home with us. Why do you think Dumbledore told you to talk to me? Your mother and I haven’t heard from you in fourteen years, and now you show up with a granddaughter we didn’t know we had.”

“… What?” I snapped.

“You think I’m going to come crawling back just for a place to live, you can think again!” mom said, pulling me to my feet.

“I believe you don’t have much of a choice, Orele,” he said, looking pointedly at me.

She looked down at me with heavy reluctance.

“Mom,” I said with realization, “you never told me about your family. Every time I asked, you changed the subject altogether…. It made me think they were all dead or something.”

“Well,” she replied, tears welling up in her eyes as she stroked my hair, “as you can see, I didn’t tell you a lot of things.” She took a deep breath and looked back at Mr. Ollivander… her father… my grandfather…. “I have a condition that you not treat me like a child while we live with you.”

He gave a broad smile as he walked to the back, “I make no promises.”

Mom grumbled but she began to follow him, cauldron of items in hand. I looked out the window at Diagon Alley to get one last look at all the magic I had missed out on in my life. How much magic will I get to see now, and in a household of a wand seller no less?

I caught a glimpse of a large, oversized man walking towards the shop with a boy about as young as me. He was much smaller than the man and had untidy black hair with broken glasses held together with tape. I looked at them curiously, a thought cropping up at the back of my head that I should try to make one more friend until mom got a key to our new home.

However, my arm was grabbed a moment later and I was dragged past cases upon cases of wands to the back of the shop. She pushed me into a chimney of all places, picking up the cauldron she’d left in there and handing it to me. Mr. Ollivander — my grandpa now, I guess — stood next to the chimney with a bowl of glittery, grayish powder.

“Take a handful,” she told me. So I did. “Keep your arms tucked in while you’re on your way to the house. Apparently, you’ll know your room when you find it, so start unpacking when you get there. I’ll be there soon, I just have to get you a few late birthday gifts…. Now, when you throw the Floo powder on the ground, you have to clearly yell ‘Ollivander Home.’ It’ll take you straight there.” She gave me a kiss on the forehead, “Go on.”

“Oh… okay,” I said uncertainly. When will you have time to answer my questions, though? That would be a great gift… I sighed, throwing the powder down in the fireplace, calling out, “Ollivander Home!”

It was like being sucked through a tube. I kept my elbows close to me as mom suggested, wondering how scraped up I would get if I spread them too much further from my body. I was tossed out, rolling into a large living room with fancy-ish furniture and crystal-like windows.

I officially hate wizard travel.

After brushing myself off and making sure everything in the cauldron was intact, I walked around the house, thinking of it as more of a small mansion. There were many different rooms, I found mine with my trunk already in it, my mother’s… with her special blue trunk in it already… some other room filled to the brim with junk, an extra large master bedroom, a plain guest room, a shockingly small kitchen, and then found another large room that looked much like a study. Peeking inside the study, I was amazed by the long, nicely polished mahogany desk and the rolls of parchment were fresh. This was so far my favorite room in the whole house.

When I started to hear a light mewling, I slowly went back downstairs to investigate what was making the noise.

Mom had appeared in the living room holding many rolls of parchment and a cage. Looking at the tag, it said "never-ending amount of parchment, always have extra." There was also never-ending ink to go with it, and the real prize for me was that the cage held a medium-sized black cat.

I giddily gasped, and mom was visibly pleased with herself.

"Happy birthday, Melody!" she said brightly.

"Oh wow," I said. "Thank you…. Jeez, how much money did the never-ending parchment and ink cost?"

"A lot, but you deserve it after I had to miss your birthday.”

“Please don't spend that much on me again,” I insisted. “Just a hug and a kiss — oh, and some answers — would be appreciated."

“But do you like your presents?” She purposely avoided my gaze.

I sighed, "Are you kidding? I appreciate my presents… I’m also glad that you were with me today to buy my things — rather than Professor Snape. Today was the best.”

She smiled widely, looking extremely grateful. "Thank you, honey."

"No, thank you." I said, making my way upstairs to begin unpacking. All I could run through my mind was one question…. When will I get to ask my questions?

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#melody riddle #harry potter fandom #voldemort's daughter #orele ollivander #draco malfoy #becky figsund #addy gentz #garrick ollivander #diagon alley

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hpffwritersguild · 4 months

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Day 5: Ollivander & Thomas, Makers of Fine Wands

#dean thomas #garrick ollivander #wandmaking #gen fic #hp fanfiction #hp fanfic #comfort zone fest 2024 #hpffwg events

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hitchell-mope · 11 months

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Well. Wrestled it away from him. But the principle is more or less the same

#harry potter #garrick ollivander #harry james potter #deathly hallows

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thecarnivorousmuffinmeta · 3 days

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i just reread a part of the first book and Ollivander says smth like "im sorry to say i sold the wand that did it" referring to Harrys scar. but he surely knows he sold that wand to Tom Riddle. does that mean Ollivander knew Tom was Voldemort all along?

He seems to, yes, in part because we see Ollivander has an impressive memory for wands. He remembers the wand he sold Lily and James and recounts as much to Harry, he seems to remember every wand he ever sold no matter how many years ago.

Tom's wand in particular is very long and made of a distinctive wood, I imagine Ollivander must have recognized it in pictures to be able to say as much.

#harry potter #harry potter meta #harry potter headcanon #tom riddle #garrick ollivander #meta #headcanon #opinion

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chunkymilk96 · 2 years

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Imagine Harry Potter goes back in time for whatever reason is convenient for the fanfiction, and when he goes and gets his wand from Ollivanders Ollivander says his line of “I remeber every wand I’ve ever sold” so he remembers Harry from his previous life

Then Ollivander can help him out or they can become friends.

#harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fandom #harry #harry potter #Garrick Ollivander #Harry Potter & Garrick Ollivander #Harry Potter fanfic #harry potter fic #fanfiction inspiration #fanfic #fanfic ideas

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fabulous-fic-quotes · 2 years

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"Dumbledore asked very politely if he could introduce Mr. Ollivander, and I was wondering what he would do if I denied his request?" Diggory laughed, and then looked surprised he'd laughed. Hadrian continued. "As in, apologies sir, you may not. Mr. Ollivander must remain anonymous, sorry, his introduction is denied." By the end of his quiet rant all three Champions were giggling, catching Dumbledore's attention, along with Krum and Ollivander.

Harrison James Orion Potter-Evans-Black - ATiredandDeadWriter

#harry potter #harry james potter #cedric diggory #fleur delacour #albus dumbledore #garrick ollivander #fic quotes #fic recs #alternate universe #canon divergence #funny quote #ok the premise of this fic is quite interesting #lets see how it pans out

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holyhead-hufflepuff · 20 days

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fred weasley x reader: unspoken words

fred weasley x reader

summary: "who knows what's in the future, but now I need you to know that I love you" - unspoken words, mxmtoon

words: 1900

warnings: none

author's note: i was going through my old works, and i honestly really proud of this. so REPOST. this is based off of mxmtoon's "unspoken words" and i hope i did this amazing song justice - gracie ♡♡

"Fred, stop it, I mean it," you cried, your hair tied back in two tight plaits. Your hand was wrapped around Fred's thin wrists as he pulled you through Diagon Alley, ignoring your cries and his mum's.

"Come on, y/n, it's not my fault you're just slow. George is keeping up just fine," Fred huffed, continuing to rush through the streets until they landed in front of Ollivander's. "I can't believe we get to go to Hogwarts. It's it, well-"

"Wicked," Fred and George said together, smirking at each other before pushing through the shop's front door.

"Fred. George. You can't just go running off," Mrs. Weasley screamed, slightly out of breath from trying to keep with the three eleven-year-olds. "Hello, Garrick, I'm afraid we'll be shopping second-hand again. We just don't have the galleons right now for two new wands."

"But, mum," Fred whined, crossing his hands over his chest as George just started at the small section of wands with worn boxes.

"I can pay for your guys' wands," you piped up, pulling out twenty-one galleons. Your mum had insisted you bring enough money to pay for the Weasley's wands as payment for housing you for the summer while she was off in Tasmania.

"Nevermind, we'll just take the used wands," Fred stated, pushing you aside to look at the second-hand wands.

"What's that supposed to mean?" you grumbled, tossing the galleons on the countertop. "You would rather have a second-hand wand then have one bought by me?"

"Good job, y/n. You got it on the first guess," Fred mocked, slowly clapping his hands.

"I hate you, Fred Weasley," you yelled, grabbing the galleons and storming out of the store.

You wrung your hands, nervous for the Order's newest mission, moving Harry Potter. It was bad enough that the wizard war was looming over your heads like a storm cloud, but now, you couldn't help but feel like something was going to go wrong.

"Okay, time to leave," you mumbled, slipping your favorite sneakers on and apparating to The Burrow.

"Y/N," you heard a familiar voice shout.

"Ginny," you shouted back, wrapping your arms around the petite girl. "Are you going on the mission tonight?"

"Are you kidding me? Mum will hardly let me out of the house," Ginny chuckled, wrapping an arm around you and leading you into the Burrow. "I can't believe Fred and George are letting you go on the mission, especially Fred."

You rolled your eyes at the redhead's wiggling eyebrows. "Sod off, Ginny. We all know that I am a strong, independent person that doesn't need to ginger twins deciding what I can and cannot do," you replied, the words almost verbatim to what you had told Fred when he told you to stay with Molly at the Burrow.

"Hey! I'm a ginger, too," Ginny exclaimed, placing a hand over her chest. "You wound me, did you know that?"

"Yeah, whatever, miss melodramatic. I'm going to put my jacket up in Fred and George's room," you announced, hurrying up the stairs and into the familiar room that smelled still smelled like smoke and candy.

You shrugged off your overcoat, tossing it on Fred's bed, and looked around the room. Everything was exactly the same as it was when you two were kids, bringing back memories of growing up with him.

"Y/N, you can't tell me you're actually thought Bulargia would win," Fred shouted from his side of the tent as you pulled your Bulgaria jersey off. "I thought you had better taste than that, but then again, you're dating Roger Davies."

"Screw you, Fred," you bit back, unsure whether or not to tell him that Roger had dumped you over the summer to try and get with Alicia Spinnet. "And, just so you know, Roger and I are, well, no longer together."

"Finally got tired of sloppy seconds, Cedric's to be precise?" Fred teased, grabbing your wrist and pulling you onto his bunk bed.

"You're a pig, Fred," you growled, leaning against the flat pillows. "Hurry up, now, I want to go out and see how the Irish are celebrating. Maybe we can even convince them to give up some firewhiskey."

"Tsk tsk, illegal underage drinking? Not perfect y/n," Fred chuckled, moving out of the way of your attempt to kick him. "Too slow- I guess that's what happens when you shag a loser like Roger Davies."

"Go to hell," you hissed, your red turning bright red. "I'll just go without you, and not that's it's your business, but I never slept with him."

You stormed out of the tent, pushing past George, who attempted to grab your wrist.

"Y/N, The Order is here," Ginny shouted, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You hurried down the wooden steps, your eyes immediately meeting with Fred's. "Hey," you breathed, running up to the redhead. "Merlin, I've hardly seen you two, and you, Fred Weasley, didn't write back after that mission. I really ought to smack you, but I'm honestly just glad you're okay."

"Wow, George, it's great to see you, too! How were you after the mission? Good? Oh, I'm so glad," George mocked in a high pitched voice.

"I'm sorry, George, the drama queen, how are you?" you asked, turning away from Fred to look at George.

"Oh, you know, disgust by your outward display of kindness to the lesser twin," George replied, but your eyes were already back on Fred.

"What happened to your cheek?" You asked, running your fingers over a faint scar. "It looks like it hurt."

"I'm fine, y/n, especially knowing that you aren't going tonight," Fred grinned. "They only need twelve 'Potters', and they want you back here, in case someone needs healing."

"But-"

"Nope, they aren't budging on the idea, and neither am I. Anyway, we're going to be off once Bill and Fleur arrive," Fred stated, brushing off your concerned look. "Oh, there they are now. I guess I better get outside with the rest of The Order, and before mum fusses over me."

You bit the bottom of your lip, the taste of blood filling your mouth. "Be safe, Freddie. I swear that I'll kill you if you don't come back to me."

"I'll be safe," Fred whispered, brushing a piece of your hair back. "I swear that I'll come back to you."

You watched Fred walk out of the door, a crushing feeling washing over you. "Please have them all return safely," you said to no one in particular, hoping that some force of nature or faith heard you. You walked into the kitchen, where Arthur was talking to Molly, and George was promising to return to Ginny. You sat down in your chair, letting memories sweep you away from the world of worries.

"How was I supposed to know that you needed a personalized goodbye," Fred argued, using his wand to paint another layer of coat on the store's walls.

"Because we're best friends, Fred. You didn't even say goodbye. You left- you just left me alone," You shouted back, flicking your wand to paint your side of the room. "You just flew away on your stupid broom and left me alone. I would've come in a heartbeat."

"I know that- do you not think I don't know anything about you? You are the most brilliant person I know, and I couldn't just take you away. You had to take your N.E.W.Ts. I didn't want you to give up your education for a shop that wasn't your dream," Fred snapped. "I wanted to ask you, and so did George. But, I told him we couldn't sweep you away just because we didn't want to miss you."

You paused, his words sinking in. "I-I didn't- I'm sorry," you relented, setting down your wand and wrapping the redhead into a hug. Then, as if it were magic, Fred returned the hug and elicited butterflies in your stomach.

You didn't need to question the feeling- you knew you were in love.

"Y/N, it's George," a voice screamed, causing you to jump off your kitchen chair and run into the living room where George was lying limply on the couch.

"Shh, George. It'll be okay," you mumbled over and over again, pulling out your wand and murmuring incantations over his body. "Shhh, George, don't cry. I'll stop the pain, I promise."

You worked on his ear and mumbled all of the spells you knew that would act as a nerve block. Finally, what felt like eternities later, George was sleeping peacefully.

"Thank you," Fred spoke up, sitting next to you. "I don't know what would've happened without you here."

"I couldn't save the skin around his ear- it was ridden with dark magic. I had to cut it off, and now, he won't be able to properly hear out of that ear. Oh, God, Fred, why is this happening to us? We're kids," you sniffled, feeling Fred wrap his arms around you and pull you into his chest. "Time is just fading away, and we don't even know anything about the future."

"You were brilliant," Fred mumbled into your ear, hugging you tighter as if you were going to disappear if he didn't. "Y/N, and I need to tell you something-"

"I love you," you blurted, pulling away from his chest. "I should've said it sooner, but now, I need you to know that I love you. You don't need to say it back, but I need you to know."

"I love you, too," Fred breathed, not entirely sure if he heard what he wanted to or if you actually said you loved him. "God, y/n, I've loved you since you offered to buy my wand in Ollivanders- Since you nearly fell over the balcony because you were so swept away with the Quidditch World Cup. I've been in love with you since the moment I met you."

"Freddie, we met when we were like four years old," You laughed, tears starting to run down your face.

"I know- why do you think that I shoved your face into a mud pie," Fred chuckled, wiping your tears off with his palm. "I didn't know how else to say I loved you."

"I love you, Fred Weasley. I don't know what the hell will happen to us, but I'm just glad we'll do it together," you admitted, pulling Fred in for a kiss.

"Ah, my plan worked," a voice weakly said, causing the two of you to break apart and look at George. "Get my ear blown off? Check. Lose a bunch of blood? Check. Cause my best friend and my twin have an existential crisis? Check. Have them finally admit they're in love? Check."

You could help but laugh, filling the room with a sound that almost seemed unfamiliar. "Thanks, George, we couldn't have admitted it without you," you joked, playing along with the redhead.

"I know- although, I wish it hadn't taken years of sexual tension between you two and my ear to come off," George grinned, laying his head back down.

"Eh, I kind of enjoyed the sexual tension," Fred joked, "it really built-up this moment."

"Shut up, and kiss me," you smiled, grabbing the front of his shirt and bringing his lips against yours.

#harry potter #harry potter oneshot #harry potter imagine #harry potter fanfiction #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x y/n #george weasley #fluff #angst #holyhead hufflepuff

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saintsenara · 3 months

Note

What are your favourite ships for Luna?

thank you so much for the ask, @thesilverstarling!

when it comes to favourite ships for luna the answer is... eh, not many. i've given my views on lunarry and snuna, and i think the same issue which i've raised in both of those - that full-fanon luna's sunny disposition and accurate understanding of the world is the only thing which makes them possible, while canon-coherent luna's personality type [sentient golden retriever joins qanon] does not - applies to the rest of luna's common non-canon ships.

both ginny and ron tend to speak to and about luna the way you might about a friend's precocious toddler - the eye-rolling behind her back is fond, but it's still eye-rolling - and so linny and lon [rona? runa?] are out.

hermione would genuinely rather take a job as rita skeeter's unpaid intern than spend her life explaining that no that's not a snorcack horn, so bye-bye lunmione.

i find the marauders-subfandom-influenced fanon that luna is related to the malfoys completely inexplicable - there is no way on god's green earth that draco malfoy knows who luna is, or that he'd be seen dead with her, given her fashion sense, so it's a no on druna.

dean is clearly grateful for her support during his miserable imprisonment, but that's as far as it goes, so i'm not going to be found handing out lean [duna?] propaganda any time soon.

and neville's canon vibe with luna is very much giving "even i look down on you" [although i'll concede that matthew lewis and evanna lynch have magnificent chemistry on screen], so sorry to lunville [nuna? these ship names do not come easily...] but it's a boot.

what i do like, however, is the idea of luna ending up in a relationship with an older man with an extremely paternalistic vibe - think friedrich bhaer with jo march [book version - he was far too nice and hot in the most recent adaptation...] - especially if that man is then gradually induced to derangement by the force of her... luna-ness - think duncan wedderburn with bella baxter [film version].

which means, if you want to go fully unhinged and deranged, there can only be one answer:

luna lovegood/garrick ollivander.

everyone's new otp.

#asks answered #asenora's opinions on ships #luna lovegood #unhinged and deranged #ship name: lollivander

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carewyncromwell · 5 months

Photo

“Torn apart by rage and fear... Hold on to what brought you here! Don't let it go...never let go!”

~“Never Let Go” by Josh Groban

x~x~x~x

From the night the Wizarding World as a whole first learned of the return of the Dark Lord Voldemort, Hermia Flume and Florean Fortescue wrote each other two letters every day, once in the morning and once in night, so as to make sure the other was safe. In those letters, there were many things said -- fears about the future, for example --

Callie just wrote to confirm the casualties from the Brockton Bridge affair -- twenty-two Muggles, including three children, all drowned in their own cars when the bridge collapsed. Apparently reports claimed You-Know-Who ordered Fudge to step down as Minister for Magic, and Fudge refused, so You-Know-Who ordered the destruction of the bridge in retaliation. Truthfully I don’t blame Fudge for this, even despite everything, but the thought of such widespread destruction ever coming here...it’s horrific to think.

I’m sorry for sounding so grim. It’s just the Death Eaters have gotten so bold, Mia, and in such little time. It’s like they were all just secretly waiting for the opportunity to go mad. With Brockton Bridge having been demolished so openly, it’s only a matter of time before the Ministry will have to choose simply saving lives over hiding things cleanly from Muggles, at which point it’ll be even harder for things to go back to normal.

Dad’s been losing himself more and more, lately. I don’t know if it’s him subconsciously wanting to mentally escape in the midst of all this, or if it’s just his age catching up with him, but either way, Mum and I are both really worried. The world is scary enough as it is right now -- if we lost Dad too, I don’t know what we’d do.

On the subject of Voldemort’s interest in Hogwarts, I wrote another letter to the Daily Prophet today, outlining that very concern. Grandfather has tried once again to tell me to keep my head down and stop writing letters to the paper, but quite frankly, I’m done with staying quiet, when all of his associates at the Ministry ever did was lie to everyone’s faces. I know you’ll understand my frustration, at least, my dear Mia...

Other times, it was wistful memories of days past, to try to bring some joy back into the other’s cheeks.

I had Purple Rain stuck in my head today at work, specifically in your voice. Oh, how I wish I could hear you sing it again now, the way you did when we got stuck in the rain on our way back to your family’s shop! Just like the words say, my dear Mia, all I want is to see you laughing.

I mixed up a brand new flavor of No-Melt Ice Cream today, in your honor! I thought a French Vanilla and Cherry would be a perfect representation for your old house colors. I remember when you first told me you were a Gryffindor, I had such trouble seeing it...only for you to then prove me wrong by jumping into that fountain without a second thought to fetch my scarf when it flew off in the wind! “Typical Gryffindor,” as I said!

Still other times, there were even arguments, about how best to fight back against the rising threat.

Your grandfather is right to worry about you, Florean. You’re not a soldier -- neither of us are.

We might never have been meant to be soldiers, but we’ve been drafted into service all the same, Mia.

You have to take care of yourself too, Florean. What good could you do for me, your family, or your business, if you’re dead?

To your question, I must ask -- if I place more value on my own life than I do on the people and world that sustain it, how can I consider myself worthy of either?

Ending most of them, though, were affirmations of the love they still felt for each other, even after so many years waiting for their families to get on the same page as them.

Florean...I know with the War going on, our families need us more than ever, and I know it’s selfish of me...but I miss you. My hands ache to touch you, and my ears long to hear you, for real, not just in my own head. I love you so much...

My Mia...oh, how I wish I could say that a million more times over, my Mia. My Mia. My dear, brave, beautiful, wonderful, brilliant Mia. However scary this world is, please take comfort knowing that you are the fire in my heart that keeps me going. You’re a candle that lights me with hope, and a passionate flare that makes me want to fight for a better world, even if it seems so far away. I love you more than I could ever say, and I hope you know that it’s out of longing for that dream of ours -- of finally marrying and starting a family of our own -- that gives me courage.

One can imagine, therefore, that when Mia did not receive her expected letter from Florean the night of July 30, 1996, she immediately got the bad feeling that something was wrong. And alas...she was right.

Mia stayed up very late that night, unable to sleep as she waited for Florean’s letter. When it still hadn’t arrived by ten o’clock, she decided to bite the bullet and write a quick letter to him herself -- just to make sure he was all right.

Dear Florean,

I didn’t receive your last letter, so I thought I’d send this along, in case it got lost in transit. With things the way they are, I’m sure owls are having to fly through a bit more than they used to...

Callie came to visit me earlier today, looking terribly upset. After making her some of my spiced hot chocolate, she confided in me that the WWN has been telling her to “brighten up” her broadcasts and not focus so much on what’s happening with the Death Eaters, so as to alleviate all the fear in the country. Admittedly this is something Callie’s always been good at, so I sort of just assumed that wouldn’t be a problem for her -- but she said she didn’t want to lie to her listeners either. Things are scary, and even if she wants to give them hope, she doesn’t want to just pretend nothing’s happening. Callie and I have never been as close as Tia and I are, even when we were little...but you know, ever since the War’s started, I’m coming to realize how similar we really are...

Speaking of Tia, she told me she hopes to take Olin and Skyler shopping in Diagon Alley later this month. Skyler’s starting his first year, and even if he hasn’t gotten his list of books yet, she thought it might be practical to get some of the usual things like robes and his cauldron early, so they wouldn’t have as much to carry home. I also suspect she wants to celebrate Skyler’s eleventh a little early, to cheer him up. I don’t suppose I can secretly buy an ice cream cake from you, as a surprise for Skyler when he visits? I’ll pay with both Galleons and several dozen kisses.

I know it’s probably just me worrying, but please send me back a letter as soon as you get this. Even if we must be separated physically, I don’t think I could bear it if we were prevented from communicating as well.

I love you,

Mia

Mia sent the owl off and then waited patiently by the window for a response. She waited for two hours -- three -- and then four -- and still no answer.

When her owl came back into sight very early the following morning at 5 AM, Mia’s heart leapt. She immediately opened the window and held her arm out for the owl to land on it, before taking its burden from its beak. Her heart clenched, though, when she saw what the owl was holding.

It was her letter, the envelope’s seal opened, with a quick note scrawled in elegant penmanship at the bottom under her name.

Miss Flume, My grandson has been taken by the Death Eaters. The Daily Prophet will release a full report in the morning.

Silas Fortescue

~*~

The Daily Prophet article the following morning was the most terrible, heart-wrenching thing to read.

According to reports, a group of masked, dark-robed Death Eaters had entered his store around closing time, only for the ice cream shop to be overwhelmed with the sound of loud pops and explosions that could only come about from a duel having broken out. It didn’t take long, though, for the five men to overpower Florean and drag him right out of his trashed shop and into the street, before Disapparating with him in front of about a dozen witnesses. The store had been cordoned off by the Aurors as they investigated, and of course the new Minister for Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour, said that the Ministry would do all it could to locate the missing shopkeeper...but all of their reassurances did little to assuage Mia’s worry. Even when she tried to follow up with Florean’s grandfather Silas, he refused to tell her anything that the Aurors had told him, which greatly upset Mia.

Mr. Fortescue, please believe me -- I want to find Florean just as much as you do. I’ll chase down whatever leads I can, talk to whomever I have to...I just need a place to start.

But Silas Fortescue seemed too stubborn and wounded to accept her help.

However much the Daily Prophet claims it doesn’t know the rationale for my grandson being taken, I know in my heart it was because of him playing with fire -- involving himself in this War and speaking out against the likes of the Dark Lord, regardless of the risk to himself. And I know my grandson well enough to know that he was never this rebellious, nor this outspoken, until he collided with you.

I am not a foolish man -- I know full well what happens when people are taken by Dark wizards. It’s exactly what happened to Florean’s parents, when he was but a young boy, before I took him in. So please, spare me your false hope, and leave this old man alone to his grief. You’ve caused me more than enough of it.

It got so bad that Mia actually tried going to the Auror Department on her own, to request the information herself. Unfortunately, because she wasn’t a member of the Fortescue family, they couldn’t tell her much without explicit permission from Florean’s only remaining family, Silas Fortescue. And what little they could say wasn’t encouraging.

“Miss Flume,” the Auror called Proudfoot said as kindly as he could. “I don’t know how well you remember the start of the first War...but many witches and wizards disappeared in that time, just as Mr. Fortescue and Mr. Ollivander have. And the vast majority of those people were never recovered...”

Mia refused to listen to another word. It was horrible enough that Silas Fortescue already presumed the worst about Florean -- she didn’t think she could bear listening to a Ministry employee telling her the same thing.

As the week went by, though, no new information about Florean surfaced in the press. It truly did seem as though everyone had come to the same conclusion that the Aurors and Silas had -- that Florean had been taken and killed, and his body would just be found eventually. But for Mia, the not knowing was torture. However much Tia tried to reassure her that “no news was good news,” Mia couldn’t live with herself, not knowing if Florean was out there somewhere, suffering and alone, with no one looking for him. And with the Auror Department not telling her anything, Mia became more and more desperate...until at last, she reached out to the one person she knew had contacts outside of the Ministry who might be able to help.

~*~

That Tuesday, Jacob received a mysterious box from Honeydukes, with a colorful, broken tart in pieces inside. Drawn into the inside of the lid was a strangely familiar spiral that Jacob recognized from his copy of Standard Book of Spells: Grade Two.

Cocking a curious eyebrow, Jacob took the right of his two wands out of his back pocket, made of blackthorn wood, and flicked it at the inside of the box.

“Reparo.”

In an instant, the tart repaired itself -- and at once, all of the strange colors made sense, for it in truth were rainbow frosting letters spelling out a message.

“We need to talk.”

~*~

Two hours later, Mia received a package in return. Inside she found another book -- The Odyssey by Homer -- with a wave-like symbol scratched into the inside left corner of the front cover. Once Mia had taken out her old Transfiguration textbook and found an identical wand movement diagram for the Water-Making Spell, she pointed her wand at the book’s interior cover.

“Aguamenti!”

The water fortunately didn’t damage the book -- inside, the letters written in the hydrochromic ink on the inside became visible.

“Meet me at the Three Broomsticks at 7.”

~*~

Just before 7:00 PM, Mia left her mother to close up Honeydukes and walked briskly to the Three Broomsticks, just down the road. The summer heat was heavier than it’d been in ages -- even just the short walk Mia took was enough to make anyone feel like they’d marched through a swamp.

When Mia arrived, she found the pub empty except for Madame Rosmerta, who looked paler than the chocolatier had ever seen her. When the barmaid caught sight of Mia, her eyes sparked with the slightest flicker of light, even despite the weariness of her face.

“Oh! Hello there, Mia.”

“Hi, Rosmerta,” Mia greeted for the sake of formality, before speaking much more urgently, “Is Cromwell here?”

This took Rosmerta aback. “Jacob?”

"I’m here.”

Jacob Cromwell came around the corner into the main room of the pub, fixing his long ponytail of thick dark curls as he went. He was dressed in a pair of jean shorts, Birkenstock sandals, and a faded blue Star Trek t-shirt that was the perfect size for his chest but about one size too small for his bulging biceps. His pale, skull-like face was oddly serious.

“Hermia,” he greeted her after a moment.

“Cromwell,” Mia responded back curtly.

She glanced at Rosmerta, who eyed them both curiously. Immediately feeling incredibly uncomfortable, Mia forced her focus back onto Jacob.

“...Cromwell, we need to talk. Privately.”

Jacob nodded. “Yeah, I presumed as much. Rosmerta, would you mind if we borrowed a room upstairs, for a moment?”

Rosmerta looked from Jacob to Mia again, once again looking perplexed, but actually seeming happy despite it.

“...Go ahead,” she said at last, as her lips unfurled in a fuller smile. “All but the first two are empty -- help yourself.”

“Thanks,” said Jacob.

He seemed perfectly oblivious to the encouraging look Rosmerta shot Mia behind his back. Mia shot her a rather sharp look in return.

“Don’t get any ideas -- it’s just business,” she muttered under her breath.

“I didn’t say anything,” Rosmerta said lightly.

“You didn’t have to,” Mia shot back coldly.

Rosmerta smiled amusedly.

“Honestly, Mia, I’m just glad you finally decided to give Jacob a break,” she said. “I thought for ages you could’ve been good friends, if you just gave him a chance...”

Mia gave a derisive snort.

“Hey, Hermia! You coming?” Jacob called from the top of the stairs.

“Yeah!” Mia called back.

Immediately getting right back to business, she darted up the stairs after him.

The two headed to the room at the far end of the hall, away from the only occupied rooms. Once Mia had closed the door behind them, she immediately whirled on him.

“I need to talk to you about -- ”

“Hold on,” said Jacob.

Taking out both his white Aspen and blackthorn wands out of his pockets, he pointed them at the windows, walls, and door in turn, whispering “Muffliato” each time.

“There,” he said. “That should do it.”

“I need to talk to you about Florean,” Mia said at once.

Jacob slowly turned around, slipping his wands into his pockets again. Then he listened as Mia told him everything she knew -- what the Daily Prophet had said about what happened, about the lack of updates -- about how the Auror Department couldn’t tell her anything.

“ -- I think they wanted to -- but since I’m not part of the Fortescue family, they couldn’t tell me anything about the investigation without Silas’s consent...”

Mia’s heart ached. She’d so desperately wanted to marry Florean when both her family and Florean’s grandfather had given their blessing to the union. If only Silas hadn’t been so stubborn, they could’ve married a year ago...maybe even earlier...

“...But you’re with Dumbledore’s group -- the Order of the Phoenix,” said Mia more urgently. “They’ve been fighting the Death Eaters all the way along, even before the Ministry was. You have to know where the Death Eaters took Florean -- why they took him. You have to know something...”

For once, Jacob was rather quiet. His expression was very grim as he considered Mia -- enough so that she actually faltered.

“...You do know something?” she pressed him. “You have to know something. Your sister works in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement -- she’s told you stuff before. You have to know something.”

Jacob bowed his head.

“...I don’t know as much as you think, but...I’ll tell you what I do know.”

He exhaled lowly.

“...Fortescue was well-known to the Order, before he was taken. He was never a member, of course -- but we definitely admired him, for what he’d been writing to the Daily Prophet. Speaking out against Vol -- that guy,” he caught himself. “Saying he was nothing but a man, no matter how much he might act otherwise -- that Dumbledore and the loyalty he commanded terrified him. Calling him a coward, too afraid to die...chasing after everything from Dark magic to the Hallows of children’s stories, as Gellert Grindelwald did before him...just to try to pretend that he’s something more than the pathetic bully he is...”

Jacob’s lips were spreading into an admiring smile despite himself.

“...The bloke really has a way with words,” he said, sounding almost charmed. “And serious nards.”

“But why did they take him?” Mia pressed him.

Jacob’s face grew more serious again.

“I don’t know. My contacts have suggested that maybe his education and schools of interest might be to blame. Fortescue got an O NEWT in History of Magic and pursued magical history as a career before opening his ice cream parlor, and old Voldie has shown some interest in magical historians, as of late. I had to help my mum go into hiding recently, for the same reason. Others think it was just a matter of the Death Eaters wanting to make an example out of him...though if it was, it seems strange that they would choose to kidnap him, rather than just kill him. Like Emmeline Vance, or the McKinnons, during the first War...even Amelia Bones was attacked in her home and killed, but not Fortescue. Not Ollivander. It’s like Vol -- that bloke wanted them taken alive.”

Mia felt like her heart was being squeezed.

“Then...you think there’s a chance?” she asked. “A chance Florean might still be alive?”

"Of course there’s a chance,” said Jacob. “It doesn’t look good, of course, and not knowing what happened is awful...but at least we don’t know for sure Fortescue’s dead. There’s certainly no concrete proof of that just yet -- otherwise we’d all have heard it.”

Something in Mia’s shoulders seemed to loosen. She felt the tenseness ebbing away little by little, almost like timid little shivers, as the weight that had been crushing her chest seemed to lighten.

After facing down all of the naysayers who refused to give her any sliver of hope or encouragement, even if she was so desperate to find Florean, Jacob’s words were a relief Mia could hardly articulate. It was like just knowing one other person -- even someone as people-dumb and obnoxious as Jacob Cromwell -- didn’t think all hope was lost was a strong man taking the weight of the world off of her shoulders just enough that she could breathe right again.

“Everyone else seems to think it’s hopeless,” Mia found herself saying despite herself.

She was startled by how earnest her voice came out. It made her flinch, immediately regretting that she’d let Mr. People-Dumb himself, Jacob Cromwell, hear such vulnerability out of her. Jacob also seemed a bit taken aback by Mia’s tone of voice. Once he’d recovered, though, he answered more honestly.

“...Sure...but the amount of hope doesn’t really matter, does it?”

To Mia’s surprise, he offered a weak attempt at a smile.

“I mean...tons of folks thought I was dead, all those years, when I was really stuck in an enchanted portrait,” he pointed out. “If Pip hadn’t been so determined to look for me, regardless of what she might find...I’d probably still be there now.”

Mia blinked. As odd as Jacob’s connection to his own situation was, she had to admit, it made sense.

“I don’t think you should give up on Fortescue,” Jacob said, his face and voice hardening with a bizarre conviction. “Back then -- when I was stuck in that portrait...I felt helpless. But when I was able to reach Pip, through our Legilimency...just knowing that Pip knew I was trapped...knowing she was still looking for me, even after everything...that saved me. Even before she saved me for real...knowing she hadn’t given up on me...that had already saved me.”

The warm, sincere love in Jacob’s solemn voice was something even hard-headed Mia couldn’t minimize. The sincere vulnerability of the sentiment stunned her a bit.

Cromwell really does love his little sister, doesn’t he? she thought to herself. Mia couldn’t think of a time she’d ever spoken so warmly about Callie -- maybe Tia, since they’d always been closest of their siblings, or maybe her father, but even so...

Well, he should feel indebted to her, after all the grief he put her and their mother through, Mia stubbornly told herself.

She pushed any flicker of admiration she might’ve felt away uncomfortably, turning her focus back to the real task at hand: the one that was kindling a small fire inside of her chest.

Florean was missing. He was not dead, or at least, no one knew that for sure. And if he was alive, then that meant that everyone had given up on finding him except for Mia. Would Florean know no one was looking? Would he hope that they still would anyway, even though all hope seemed lost...?

A passage in one of Florean’s old letters returned to Mia’s mind.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder, so I’ve heard…let it be that, and not forgetful, dear Mia.

“...knowing she was still looking for me, even after everything...that saved me.”

Mia suddenly felt like her whole being had been set ablaze.

“I’m not going to give up on him,” she said, her voice harder and firmer than ever. “I’ll never give up -- not until I find him and bring him home.”

I’ll find you, Florean. Then I’ll marry you. I’ll marry you, damn your grandfather, damn whatever he might do or say --

Her narrowed eyes were as fiery as a salamander’s as her fist clenched around her wand.

“What do I have to do?”

Jacob’s skull-like eyes actually seemed to brighten, seeing the fierce determination in Mia’s features.

“Well, I think all of us will just have to keep our ears and eyes open, for the most part,” he said. “But the first thing we should figure out is what connected Ollivander and Fortescue. There has to be a reason why they specifically were taken.”

Mia considered this.

“Well, it wouldn’t be any kind of friendship,” she said slowly. “Not that Florean didn’t like Ollivander -- just about everyone I know likes the man -- but their relationship would’ve been formal, nothing close. They would’ve known each other just as neighbors.”

Jacob nodded, his eyes drifting up to the ceiling thoughtfully. “And Ollivander has never been open in regards to his politics, so it wouldn’t have been because he was speaking out against old Moldy Shorts, the way Fortescue was.”

"Then Florean couldn’t have been taken because of what he was writing!” Mia said. “If Ollivander and Florean were taken for the same reason...”

She could hardly articulate how much this knowledge comforted her. Perhaps it was the guilt she’d felt, after reading Silas Fortescue’s letter blaming “her influence” on Florean for his disappearance.

Jacob’s mouth spread into a smile too. “Right. Which leads back to the theory about Fortescue's interest in magical history.”

“Does Ollivander share that interest?” asked Mia.

“Not exactly,” said Jacob. “Old Garrick’s focus has always been wandlore, almost exclusively. Though he does also know a fair amount about the history of Christmas carols -- we spent a whole afternoon chatting about it once, while I was showing him the new wand I picked up State-side -- ”

He indicated the blackthorn wand in his right pocket brightly.

“ -- anyway, Ollivander’s got a bent for historical knowledge too, just in a very specific field. I can’t help but feel like that knowledge is a clue about why this happened.”

“Do you think that ‘why’ will then help us figure out where Florean is?” Mia prodded.

Jacob faltered.

“Well, it would help explain it all,” he attempted uncomfortably. “Getting a big picture of what’s going on always helps...if we can find out what old Morty’s really up to, and find a way to swat him down, that could put an an end to the whole thing -- ”

“We might not have time to do that,” Mia said sharply. “We have to find out where Florean is, and soon, if we’re going to help him. Ollivander too.”

Jacob frowned, but he seemed to concede the point.

“Their exact location might be harder to figure out,” he admitted. “I still think the ‘why’ could help us figure out the ‘where’...but I can’t say for sure it’ll fill in all the blanks...”

He looked at Mia seriously.

“Maybe what you can do for me is contact your sisters and see if you can figure out which Death Eaters were involved in taking Fortescue, that night.”

Mia’s eyebrows furrowed. “How would we determine that?”

“Well, for one, we know it has to be either people who escaped Azkaban during the big break-out or who weren’t caught the first time,” Jacob explained. “But it would also have to be people who weren’t caught in the Department of Mysteries, so Lucius Malfoy and his gang of stooges have an alibi. Callie has contacts in the WWN -- she’s heard interesting gossip before, including things that would normally be off-the-record...and from what Callie’s told me, your other sister’s married to a well-respected wizard in the Ministry who knows quite a few people. Not to mention you might hear interesting things, living in the most popular Wizarding village in Britain. Maybe then I’ll have some leads I can follow up on.”

Mia nodded decisively.

“All right -- I’ll find out what I can.”

“Groovy. And if I find out anything myself, I’ll send along a ‘book’ and let you know.”

“Good.”

Mia headed for the door. When she opened it, she paused, her hand still on the doorknob. Then, swallowing back the lump of discomfort in her throat, she turned to look at Jacob.

“...You think I’m crazy, don’t you?” she asked very lowly.

“Huh?” said Jacob, confused.

“For thinking Florean’s still alive.”

Jacob frowned deeply. “I don’t think you’re crazy.”

“Then you do think he’s alive?” Mia challenged him.

Jacob crossed his arms, his shoulders rising and falling in a faint shrug.

“I don’t know.”

Seeing the piercing, almost expectant look on Mia’s face, he fumbled to come up with a better response.

“I don’t! I mean, sure, logically, there’s not much to prove he’s still alive, and Fortescue’s not likely to do whatever old Morty wants, so there’d be less reason to keep him alive...but well, like I said, there’s nothing to prove he isn’t still alive, and lack of hope doesn’t mean fact. Miracles happen -- conspiracies happen -- even just strange things happen. And you shouldn’t just accept something because a lot of other people say it’s true -- not if there’s a chance they could be wrong.”

Jacob’s expression actually softened a bit.

“...Honestly...if you believe Fortescue’s alive, then I say you should fight for him. No matter what anyone else says! It’s like my mum says -- ‘sometimes your heart just knows what’s true.’”

Once again, Mia felt as though that weight that had been pushing down on her shoulders was coming up off her shoulders. It made her posture just that little bit straighter and her eyes that little bit less narrowed.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” she said, “but I think you’re right.”

She held the door open so Jacob could take it and then shut it behind them. As the two headed down the stairs and out of the Three Broomsticks, the curly-haired man was actually smiling.

“Hm...this is actually kind of cool.”

“What is?”

“Getting on with you!” he said with a broadening grin. “I feel like ever since I collided with you back before my NEWTs, all you’ve ever wanted to do is bite my head off.”

Mia gave a very loud scoff. “Trust me, the only reason I haven’t yet is because I’d probably choke on all that hair.”

This, however, only made Jacob laugh brightly.

#my writing #jacob cromwell #hermia flume #florean fortescue #silas fortescue #madame rosmerta #garrick ollivander #my art #yes back to this series!!#I do love seeing mia's shell crack a little bit to jacob even though she's still way too stubborn to acknowledge he's not so bad #but yeah for some reason I had this hankering to draw these two in my sketchbook #and I realize what I was drawing matched up was a moment in this incomplete drabble I had in my drafts!#so yeah good excuse to finish it #I really need to finish this series so as to better chronicle jacob's activities during the second wizarding war #and pave the road to his future post-War #<33

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