#hp wizarding war | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dreamcubed · 10 months

Text

call it what you want | draco malfoy x reader

song; call it what you want [taylor swift] pairing; draco malfoy x fem!muggle!reader genre; fluff, angst, forbidden love, s2l word count; 4,3k timeline; post-second wizarding war warnings; draco's daddy issues, low-key y/n's daddy issues, references to the second wizarding war (and draco's part in it), discrimination (of muggleborns) summary; his entire life, draco had it drilled into him that anything to do with muggles was bad- impure, even. but after his father is imprisoned for life, he decides to venture into the muggle world- just as a temporary thing, of course

suggested by @tendous-pretty-hair !!

masterlist

"my baby's fly like a jet stream, high above the whole scene, loves me like i'm brand new."

also i have fucking eras tour tickets!!!

—————————————————

Draco had found himself at an emotional stand-still ever since the Second Wizarding War - more specifically the events of the Battle of Hogwarts. After he had regrettably joined Voldemort's side in the mass fallout, only for him to lose anyway. He wasn't sentenced to any time in Azkaban, since it was deemed that he had been coerced into the situation, as backed up by his mother, who had been pardoned due to saving Harry Potter's life in the final moments. His father, however, would never feel the light of happiness again, caged away in the breeding ground of fear.

It wasn't that Draco missed Lucius all that much, in fact, quite the opposite. The time away from him had allowed him and Narcissa to grow closer, and also given him the opportunity to properly question and break down the beliefs that had been hammered into his head since infancy.

Eventually, he decided to step foot into unknown territory: muggle London. He had only ever been to the magic side of it before, but he had come to the realisation that living such a sheltered life was the reason he wound up another of Voldemort's slaves. That lifestyle would be no more.

He found himself stood outside of a small music store, displayed to have vinyls, CDs and cassette tapes inside - whatever they were. Draco did know what music was, however, and wanted to understand the way that muggles experienced it. So, he stepped foot into the shop with the tinkling of a tiny silver bell above him alerting whoever was working behind the tall overflowing shelves.

There were more people perusing the shelves than he had anticipated, so he ducked his head down and headed to an emptier area of the shop. As he began scanning the labels on the shelves, his confusion grew as he realised that he recognised none of the names.

"You don't look like a death metal fan," a voice to his left caught him by surprise, making him jump.

He turned around to have his eyes meet the gaze of a woman wearing an amused smile. You couldn't help but laugh slightly at his skittishness.

"Forgive me, but it's not everyday we have a man dressed in a perfectly ironed suit come and check out the works of Morbid Angel."

After his brain caught up to him, he said, "You work here?"

You nodded, "Family business - me and my mum."

Draco didn't reply to your statement, turning back to the shelves.

"You seem a little lost, first time in a music shop?"

"Uh- yeah," he said, "My family never played music growing up." That was a lie - the Malfoys had held many a musical event, however, they took the form of private orchestral bands.

"You're joking," your expression was that of shock, "How have you lived such a musicless life?"

He shrugged.

"God, I was practically raised on music- I mean, obviously," you gestured around you, "It's everything to me."

"My father was a very strict man," he said simply, making you hum.

"I see. God, I just can't believe you've hardly listened to music - we have to change that," you said, "Do you have any idea what sort of sounds you like?"

"I think I like classical music," it was all he had ever really known.

You grinned, "Yeah, that definitely suits the way you're dressed more than death metal. Come on, I'll set you up with some stuff. Vinyls, CDs or tapes?"

From what he could gather, vinyls were the larger circles, and he was pretty sure that Malfoy Manor had a phonograph with the large brass tube attached for the purpose of playing them. Like the one he saw at the Yule Ball all those years ago. "Uh, vinyl? The big black disc?"

You bobbed your head, "They're becoming less popular these days - people mostly want CDs," you then paused for a moment, "Although my mum said they'll probably have a resurgence in another twenty years. Making an aesthetic of past trends and all that."

Draco listened curiously as you babbled on about different musicians, bands, and albums, finding himself enraptured by the way you carried yourself. Salazar, his father would throw a fit if he found out that he was willingly talking to a muggle.

But his father wasn't there.

"So, do any of these interest you?" you finished, smiling at the ever stoic man before you.

"Uh, yes- all of them," he wasn't sure if he liked the music genre you suggested or the way you talked so passionately.

"All of them?" you tilted your head, "That's- like- hundreds of pounds."

He began digging around in his pockets for the money he had exchanged earlier before coming, and your eyes widened at the sight of all the twenty pound notes.

"Right," you said in a state of shock, "I'll... ring these up for you."

As you totalled up the price and packaged the vinyls into a bag over at the till, the man watched you, as if he was meticulously detailing your every move. Weirdly, it didn't feel creepy.

"Okay that will be... £404.39," you said, in awe of the fact he seemed unfazed by the number.

He began counting out the notes, before handing them over to you: £420 worth of twenty pound notes in your hand. You counted the change out and handed it back to him, placing the receipt in the bag.

"Thank you for shopping here, come again..." you trailed off, realising you didn't know his name.

"Draco," he said, stopping himself before saying his last name. Although he knew that you wouldn't recognise it anyway.

You couldn't help but think that he had a peculiar name; regardless, you smiled, and said, "Y/N. Please come again."

He nodded, taking the bag and leaving the shop swiftly without so much as looking back once.

***

A week passed by and Draco found himself stood outside of the record shop, unsure of why he had returned. During his last visit he had purchased months worth of music, so really he had no need to be back.

Except, he did.

His social circle had been non-existent ever since the Battle of Hogwarts, not because Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson and Theodore Nott no longer wanted to be friends with him, but because he had isolated himself in Malfoy Manor with his mother. Draco was nearing being ready to owl them again, but reconnecting with them meant inevitably having to unpack the events of the war.

With a muggle stranger like you, however, there was no unpacking to do.

"Draco, you're back," you grinned, coming out from behind the till, "I was hoping you would."

"Why?"

His abrupt question caught you off guard, "Well, I- I don't know. You're an interesting character," that and you thought he was cute.

Draco stared blankly at you, making you shift uncomfortably on your feet. Eventually, you decided to change the subject.

"Here for more music?"

"Oh, uh- yes."

"Well, what were your favourites from last week's purchases?"

After he told you which ones he had enjoyed the most, you were able to develop some kind of idea as to specific kinds of music to indulge him into. Of course, you had a question burning at the back of your mind that you simply had to ask.

"If you don't mind me asking, what do you do for a living?"

He looked up at you with slightly furrowed eyebrows.

"It's just- vinyls aren't cheap, especially not in as large a quantity as you get them," you elaborated, "I assume you have a well paying job."

Draco sighed, shaking his head, "Family money."

"You mean old money?" you couldn't help but clarify.

He reluctantly nodded, "Yes, old money." He used to be so boastful and prideful of the Malfoy family legacy, but in that moment, despite you having no idea who he was, he could only feel shame when he thought of it.

"Okay, Mr. Fancy," you chuckled, "Let's continue your musical adventure."

Even as you proceeded to serve him with a chipper attitude, you couldn't help but be saddened by learning that he was old money. There was no way that you stood a chance, since old money families liked to marry each other and not someone who was simply the daughter of a small record shop.

At least you learned that piece of information about him early on, you reasoned.

***

"Back? Again?" you questioned incredulously, spying Draco stood in the doorway of your shop, "Hate to turn you away, but we're about to close."

"I know."

You paused, frowning slightly as you grasped hold of the door, "Uh, okay, then... bye?" You began slowly shutting the door.

"Wait."

Again, you paused.

"I need help."

Opening the door fully again, you placed a hand on your hip as you said, "With regards to what?"

You didn't know what to think when he presented a small battered flip phone to you on his milky white palm.

"A phone?"

"I found it. On the floor."

"Musta fell outta someone's pocket," you shrugged, "Happens - why do you need help?"

"Well, don't we need to do something about it?"

All you could do was look at him curiously.

"Is that not- is that not what you do?" maybe he was overcompensating for his past by trying desperately to do one small good deed, or maybe he was trying to prove to you that he was a good person even though you had no reason to believe otherwise. Either way, he wanted to return the muggle contraption to its rightful owner.

"I mean- I guess? If you're feeling nice," you said simply, "Can't lie, I'd probably leave it for someone else to deal with."

"How do I return it?"

You sighed, "Just call the last person they called."

"Right, okay."

Much to your confusion, Draco stared at the device as if he was trying to will it into doing what he wanted.

"You do know how to call someone, yes?" you asked, your arms now folded across your chest.

With a sigh of defeat, he shook his head.

You rolled your eyes, stepping aside, "Come in."

Once Draco was inside your shop, you shut the door and flipped the sign from 'open' to 'closed'.

"Give it," you made a grabbing motion with your fingers, and the man before you immediately handed over the device, "It's really easy-" he watched in amazement as you flipped open the phone, "-just use the arrow buttons here to go to call history- and, oh, look! Last person they called was their mum- press the green call button and bam."

You presented the now dialling phone to him.

"They have been notified now?"

"Well, her phone will be ringing- hopefully she'll pick up."

"Pick up?"

"Hello?" a voice from the phone announced, "Cadie?"

"Hello, ma'am, your daughter dropped her phone and we found it."

"Oh, I see. Thank you- I'll let her know so she can pick it up. Where's a good place?"

As you told the concerned mother the address of your record shop, you watched Draco's intrigued expression.

You hung up, placing the phone on a nearby surface and beginning to walk to the back room, "Would you like some tea?" you asked.

He stared blankly at you for a few moments, before nodding, "Please."

"How do you take it?"

"No milk, one sugar."

You chuckled to yourself at his strange way of having tea.

***

Draco watched you as you chatted mindlessly while sipping your tea, almost entirely forgetting that he had his own cup sat to his side. Your topics were classically boring - yet so interesting to him. He was enthralled to learn about the different characters in your family, and the trials and tribulations of your school years. He hadn't even realised how little he had said until you pointed it out.

"What about you?"

"Hm?" he went, snapping out of his daze.

"I feel like I've just been talking about myself this entire time. Where did you go to school?"

"Oh- uh-" he desperately pulled together all his thoughts, "A private boarding school in Scotland."

Your mouth dropped open, "Wow, that's cool."

He shrugged.

"Did you miss your family while you were away all year?"

Again, he shrugged, "My mother, yes- my father... not so much."

"I don't see my father at all," you added, to make him feel more comfortable about sharing details of his own father, "I used to... but I realised it was always me reaching out and not him so I stopped. Haven't heard from him since."

Draco nodded, "My father is in prison."

He didn't know why he told you, only realising what he had just said when you froze for a few seconds with widened eyes.

"Can I ask what for?" you asked in a squeaky voice.

"Uh... terrorism, murder... that sort of thing," he had no clue why he was being so honest. Had you put veritaserum in the tea?

You cleared your throat, wanting to delicately change the subject but lacking a way on how to do it naturally. Draco observed you, and opened his mouth to say something more when a knock sounded on the door.

"That's- uh- that's probably the phone owner," you said quickly, rushing to your feet to run out of the back room and let them in.

You opened the door to be faced with a short brunette woman.

"Cadie?" you questioned.

She nodded, "You have my phone?"

"Yes, come in."

"Thank you so much- I really can't afford a new one right now," she sighed, "I'm always losing things."

You chuckled, "I know how you feel- I'm always breaking things."

Draco appeared in the doorway to the back and picked up the phone from the counter.

Cadie sighed happily, accepting the phone and thanking the both of you profusely.

"Seriously, you have no idea how appreciative I am."

"It's no trouble, Cadie, really," you assured her.

She paused for a moment, looking around. "Is this your shop?"

You bobbed your head, "Yes, it's family-owned."

"Oh, that's so cool," she looked towards Draco, "So this is your husband?"

You were so taken aback you couldn't even form a response. Before either of you could reply, the phone began ringing.

"It's my boss! I have to take this," she said, "Thank you so much again. You two are a cute couple." And with that final comment, she departed, leaving you and Draco in an awkward silence.

"I-" you began, but you were quickly interrupted.

"Go on a date with me," Draco hurriedly said, realising he had said it like an order rather than an innocent question. He was still in some ways his old bossy teenage self, socialised in a slightly abnormal way.

You took it in good humour, however, and smiled, "I would love to."

***

The following six months were filled with the fanciest and most luxurious dates that you could ever have possibly imagined: five star restaurants, weekends in Paris, and expensive gifts. It was heaven in all ways but one - Draco always had an excuse for you not meeting his family and friends.

For a while, you had ignored the itching feeling that he was ashamed of you and so kept you a secret, but your suspicions grew until you couldn't keep it in anymore. You had to confront him about it.

"...and I was thinking, we should go out for dinner with your mother," you said, flicking through a magazine as Draco sat on the sofa in your small but homely flat.

"When?" he asked.

"Whenever's good for her."

You heard Draco's breath hitch.

"What? Can't come up with an excuse to get out of this one?" your tone held evident bite.

Draco turned around to face you, but his expression was unreadable.

"Are you ashamed of me, Draco?"

His eyes widened.

"I know I'm not rich, let alone old money, but I'd like to think that I'm a likeable person."

He shook his head, "It's not that-"

"Then what is it, Draco?" you snapped, feeling tears fill up your eyes, "You won't even introduce me to your friends! How am I supposed to feel?"

He stood up and began shifting on his feet and fidgeting with his hands, "It's more complicated than that."

"What? You're engaged to someone else?"

Again, he shook his head, "No, nothing like that."

"Then what?" you waved your hands about, "Because I can't date someone who treats me like a secret."

"You wouldn't believe me!" he yelled, clearly unintentionally.

You were shocked: you had never heard him yell before. "Try me," you said, your voice low.

He sighed, moving around helplessly for a few moments before striding over to his bag by your front door. He reached his hand in - what appeared to be deeper than the bag's actual depth, but you dismissed it due to your blurred vision - and pulled out a blank piece of paper, tinged brown.

He came over to you and placed it on the kitchen island you were stood behind, and pointed at the bottom of the page. "Sign here."

"It's blank," you thought he was insane.

"Just trust me. Please."

You gave him a skeptical look, but wiped your eyes and picked up a pen nonetheless, writing your signature in the area he pointed to. To your amazement, the second you finished the last letter of your name, writing appeared on the paper. As you scanned it, you were increasingly confused.

- By signing this non-disclosure agreement, you agree that as a muggle you shall not disclose the existence of wizardry and witchcraft to anyone not already in knowledge of it. You understand that by doing so, you would be breaking the law and could face potential criminalisation. The wizard or witch of whom has vouched for your approval to know of magic shall also face potential criminalisation in such a situation.

It will no longer be a criminal offence for wizards and witches to perform magic with you as a witness unless there are unapproved muggles also present.

You will be granted access to wizard-only areas including but not limited to Diagon Alley and Platfrom Nine and Three Quarters at King's Cross provided that you are accompanied by a wizard or witch. Please be aware that these permissions may vary in other countries depending on their laws surrounding muggle knowledge of magic and also their acceptance of the British Muggle Non-Disclosure Agreement.

Please sign your name below. -

"What is this?" you asked, your eyebrows furrowed.

"An NDA."

"Yes, I- I gathered that- but- what does it mean?"

"It means... that I'm a wizard."

Part of you wanted to burst out laughing at Draco's insane words, but the way he said it held so much depth that you couldn't help but take it seriously.

"Prove it."

You didn't know what you had expected, but you certainly didn't anticipate your boyfriend pulling out a wand and muttering what sounded like Latin under his breath.

The pen on the table before you morphed into a feather.

There were really no words to describe how you felt in that moment. You asked him to do it again - he turned the feather into a sharpener. You asked him to do it one more time - he turned the sharpener into a fork.

"Oh my God," you said at the volume of a whisper, stepping back and falling against the counter behind you, "What the actual fuck."

"I know this may come as a shock to you..."

"Really?" you said, "No, actually. Not freaking out at all. Not even a little."

He pursed his lips, "My family is what is known as pure-bloods. We haven't mixed with muggles when it comes to reproduction at any point in our bloodline - allegedly."

You stared at him.

"Sometimes, a witch or wizard can be born of muggle parents - we call them muggle-borns. Half-bloods make up the most of wizarding society - their ancestors are a mix of muggle, muggle-born, pure-blood and half-blood."

At your lack of speech, he continued.

"There is a culture of supremacy among pure-blood families - choosing to reproduce only with other pure-bloods to ensure the pure-blooded line continues as they believe themselves to be the only true witches and wizards."

"You're pure-blood," you mumbled.

Draco nodded, "I used to think like that. Used to bully muggle-borns in school - the school I went to being specifically for witches and wizards."

"You don't think like that anymore?"

"No," he quickly said, "I've had a lot of time to question everything I was taught to believe - but, I- there's something really bad I have to tell you. It may change your opinion of me forever and it's the reason why I have kept you away from my family and friends."

You nodded, mentally preparing yourself for what he was about to tell you.

"Years ago, there was a war in the wizarding world..." he began.

***

You had never seen Draco in tears before, but when he reached the details of the final showdown between Harry Potter (a heroic celebrity in the wizarding world) and Lord Voldemort (a wizard terrorist), he broke down in sobs as he recalled him walking over to the latter's side. Tears were falling down your cheeks soon too, and you quickly brought Draco into your arms and felt him collapse into you.

"I regret it every single day," he said through sobs, "Why didn't I have more of a backbone?"

"You were just a boy, Draco," you soothed him, "You didn't want your family to be killed."

He cried harder.

"My opinion of you is not changed - by the sounds of it you never actually killed anyone yourself," you thought back to the Professor Dumbledore section of the story, "In fact, it sounds like you couldn't bring yourself to."

"I can never make up for my past, Y/N."

You stroked his hair, "You dating a muggle is pretty solid evidence you're trying to."

"I'm not dating you because you're muggle," he pulled back from you and looked you in the eyes.

You chuckled slightly, wiping the tears off his cheeks with your thumbs, "That's not what I was saying. Young you would have never even considered entering the muggle world, and yet here adult you is."

He gave you a small smile, "I love you."

You beamed, but teardrops were still cascading down your cheeks, "I love you too."

"Let's have dinner with my mother on Sunday."

***

"Mr Malfoy, you may see your father now," the Azkaban worker said, who Draco couldn't help but think reminded him strongly of Filch. An old miserable man with long scraggly hair, an unmissable limp, and filthy dark-coloured robes. Then again, at least this worker had a reason to be miserable all the time: working in the breeding ground of fear and desolation. Filch was by all means in a much more cheerful environment.

Draco nodded at him, and followed his lead down shadowed narrow corridors, caked in dirt and dust. They turned a few corners and went up a few sets of dangerously steep stairs before reaching a cell block with moans and whines coming from every cell - except one.

In all honesty, Draco hadn't known what to expect when he came to see his father: he hadn't visited once since his arrest. But Lucius looked quite different than the proud man he once was, with his once well-kept long blond hair being knotty and entwined with filth, and his once healthy (albeit pale) complexion being overly skinny with sallow sunken features. He looked up at his son, still being able to produce a slight scowl.

"So, you finally decided to visit," he drawled, but his voice was too broken to hold the same threat it used to.

"Yes, father, I have some things I need to say to you," despite Lucius' weakened state, Draco still held some lifelong fear of the man, but he had to remain strong in front of him.

"And what would that be?"

"I have a girlfriend, and I plan to propose to her."

Lucius raised an eyebrow, "Your mother has not mentioned this," Narcissa frequently visited her husband.

"She didn't find out until last week."

After some seconds of silence, Lucius slowly rose to his feet and stood face-to-face with Draco at the cell gate. "What is her name?"

"Y/N L/N."

"L/N does not ring a bell. Which bloodline is she from?"

Draco felt intimidated by his father's close proximity, but still managed a smirk, "She isn't of pure blood, Father."

Lucius' eyes widened, "You don't mean to say she's- half blood? Or worse- a- a mudblood?"

"Worse," his smirk grew, "She's muggle."

The ghostly shock that flooded over Lucius' face made Draco feel a triumph over his father he had never felt before, and gave him the confidence to feel as though he had the upper hand in their interaction. He stepped closer to the cell and lowered his voice.

"And I'm going to marry her, and have children with her, and you will have to spend the rest of your life rotting in this cell knowing that the Malfoy pure blood line has been permanently tainted."

"You can't do this," Lucius said through gritted teeth, "After everything we fought for."

Draco hummed, "See, I thought it was time for me to finally fight for something good."

————————————————

masterlist

written; 02/06/2023 —> 17/07/2023 published; 17/07/2023 edited; —/—/——

taglist ; @workinatdapyramid @iluvweasleys

628 notes · View notes

gracexthoughts · 1 month

Text

Of Violent Delights

Mattheo Riddle x Potter!OC

“These violent delights have violent ends, And in their triumph die, like fire and powder, Which as they kiss consume.” -William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

masterlist

playlist | read on ao3 | intro

part 1; “Two households, both alike in dignity…From ancient grudge break to new mutiny, Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.” -William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17

part 2; “I fear too early, for my mind misgives; Some consequence, yet hanging in the stars, Shall bitterly begin” -William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 |

113 notes · View notes

ceresartsy · 2 years

Text

Sectumsempra~

My will is as strong as porcelain

Ready to break at any moment-

--------------------------------

I'm back 🙂

#dracomalfoy #draco fanart #harry potter #hp fanart #digital painting #wizarding world #digital art #hogwarts #wizarding war #harry potter fandom #slytherin #gryffindor #severus snape #sectumsempra #artists on tumblr #art #ceresartsy #fanart #dramione

2K notes · View notes

oasis-of-stars-4 · 4 months

Text

Regulus: I love being right. It’s one of my favorite personality traits.

#regulus black #slytherin #slytherin skittles #ngl could also be barty #hogwarts #death eaters #first wizarding war #marauders era #wizarding world #harry potter #hp #harry potter fandom #hp fandom #incorrect quotes #incorrect harry potter quotes #incorrect hp quotes #incorrect slytherin skittles #incorrect slytherin quotes

87 notes · View notes

quill-q · 2 years

Text

Padfoot & James

#quill-q art #drawing practice #speed drawing #harry potter #james potter #prongs and padfoot #padfoot #sirius black #hp fanart #hp marauders #marauders era #prongs #grim #dog #first wizarding war

1K notes · View notes

messrmagpie · 2 years

Text

Marauders as Teachers AU (making it's tumblr debut, because I only ever posted them to insta before)

Professor Black (Defense Against the Dark Arts)

Professor Lupin (Care of Magical Creatures)

#harry potter #illustration #marauders #fanart #remus lupin #first wizarding war #wolfstar #anything for our moony #remus loves sirius #sirius black #hp fanart

2K notes · View notes

lifeandlies-of-regulusblack · 10 months

Text

Walburga & Sirius: A Victim Seeking Their Own Victim

A headcanon.

They’re so alike and they’re also SO aware of it, it makes them want to peel off their skin just to see if it has any adverse effect on the other. What if I really am just you? If I hurt myself via self mutilation will it hurt you too? We are so alike and I hate you enough to warrant me spending hours thinking about the way I could hurt myself to hurt YOU. It’d be worth it.

To start and to clear things up: Walburga 100% started this. She was the adult who made her son hate her so much because she’s manipulative and abusive. However, her hate comes from intergenerational trauma and the fact of her belonging to a family (and a community) that’s basically shorthand for a cult. A conservative cult at that: the pureblood supremacist community. She’s also a victim of extreme misogyny.

Sirius was born with all her ferocity. Sirius was born with her natural disposition to command authority. Sirius is power, charm, and brutality — rolled into one. But Walburga was the woman who was shamed for having the same traits. Walburga, who forced her way into spaces that were never meant for her to be in. Who looked at the men staring at her with derision, and grinned. Who was a rebel in her own right, demanding to be seen. To be heard. Sirius is a raging fire but only because his mother was a raging inferno. His fire is her fire. Both have a tenacity for cruelty that snaps to strike with barely a moment’s notice, so unlike Regulus and Orion’s frigid fire that takes time to build and peak. Sirius and Walburga are the epitome of: it only takes one bad day. And the two have been given years of undeniably horrid days.

Walburga who, if she’d been a man, would’ve been made head and heir to the family. Who far outmatched her brothers. Who’d basically been running family affairs at her father’s side. She was working for her father’s approval which she did eventually get. In the form of Pollux’s insistence that she provide the family an heir, in her image. A son, just like her, with her fire, so that HE could lead.

So when Sirius comes into the world, he’s given a victim of a mother who seeks to find a victim of her own. She treats Sirius the way she sees him: a thief. His name is a debt. His status is a debt. His existence is a debt. His prestige is a debt. His tenacity is a debt. The people around them celebrate the coming of a male version of all that she is and they take it as a victory. His very existence is a debt because Walburga lost all that she was fighting for to her son. And since then it’s been a constant effort of taking, and taking, and taking, and taking as much as she can from Sirius while trying to raise the heir her father demands of her.

Sirius fights her the very same way she used to fight the men in her family. Sirius fights her with the same refusal to bow down as she once had. And all it does is set her own flames ablaze.

Sirius is made in his mother’s image only that HE was lucky to have found love, help, and family. This is what saves him. This is what makes him better than any of his parents. His kindness is learned. His compassion was something he worked hard for. His freedom was because he was lucky to have found a village and a community willing to keep him safe and encourage his moral growth. His personal development. Sirius had people who made running away feel attainable. Who told him he was given dirty water. Who told him he could throw it away.

The only time Walburga finally thought she’d taken enough away from Sirius, was the night he left to run away to the Potters, leaving Regulus behind. Her younger son choosing to stay, meant she had finally, finally taken the most important thing from Sirius. And at that, she, at last, considers them even.

*None of what i said comes close to justifying walburga's abuse of her children. It just gives it a place of origin. But none of it excuses her cruelty. Abuse is abuse and it's shitty no matter the backstory.

I can't seem to stop writing about the Black Brothers (⁠٥⁠↼⁠_⁠↼⁠). Here, have some more. Also, if you enjoyed this, please consider giving me a reblog! It's a great source of motivation~

146 notes · View notes

sunnyvids · 3 months

Text

youtube

Emmeline Vance (Marauders Era) | We're All Gonna Die

Edited by SunnyVids.

#harry potter #hp #marauders #emmeline vance #marauders era #first wizarding war #dorcaline #order of the phoenix #video #edit #mine #Youtube

59 notes · View notes

sweetmoonlight7 · 11 days

Text

There aren’t many things that Pandora is afraid of.

She has always found life to be so peculiar and fun. It was a rare sight to ever see her afraid of something.

Except for her dreams.

At first, they started out with small normal things. A girl dyes her hair in her dream, and in the next couple of days, she has her hair dyed in the same way.

But then it becomes more serious.

A flash of a boy falling off his broom, and at the next match, Barty ends up in the infirmary.

She tried to stop them. When they were bad, she did everything she could.

Tried talking Regulus out of erasing James’ memories.

Or have a match stopped before someone got hurt.

But every time she tried to intervene, nothing changed.

So when she dreamt of Regulus drowning in a cave and James and Lily dying with a flash of green, she also knew she could do nothing but watch it happen.

#pandora rosier #regulus black #james potter #lily evans #jegulus #marauders #barty crouch jr #marauders era #hp marauders #first wizarding war

40 notes · View notes

sofoulandfairaday · 4 months

Note

I actually do tend to put most of the Order we see in the photos around the same years, but my headcanon is that there were other older members but they all died by the time that photo was taken because they were trying to protect the younger kids. I like to imagine that Moody is the only surviving older Order member and he had to watch his peers die one by one and then had to watch as so many of those kids they died trying to protect were killed themselves

Soooo. I can see this working if well justified. There is a line that does justify it in canon, actually- "[...] look, I can’t promise no one’s going to get hurt, nobody can promise that, but we’re much better off than we were last time, you weren’t in the Order then, you don’t understand, last time we were outnumbered twenty to one by the Death Eaters and they were picking us off one by one...”

Voldemort would most likely send his Death Eaters after the best and strongest Order members first, even though they were more likely to take down many of his followers- it's not like he didn't have the numbers. BUT I'm afraid it's a little unrealistic. The weakest fighters in a fight to the death are those who get killed first even with protection.

Just for funsies, though, I'll give you my personal headcanon of the Order members' rough ages. I'm usually flexible if they're changed by a couple of years, but the generations should be kept.

This is the list of confirmed Order of the Phoenix members in the First Wizarding War:

Albus Dumbledore

Aberforth Dumbledore

Alastor Moody

Arabella Figg

Dedalus Diggle

Elphias Doge

Emmeline Vance

Mundungus Fletcher

Rubeus Hagrid

Sturgis Podmore

Severus Snape

Sirius Black

Remus Lupin

Peter Pettigrew (who turns spy for the Death Eaters in 1980)

All these people survive the war. Then we also have:

James Potter

Lily Evans Potter

Fabian Prewett

Gideon Prewett

Frank Longbottom

Alice Longbottom

Edgar Bones

Benji Fenwick

Caradoc Dearborn

Dorcas Meadowes

Marlene McKinnon

Now. The only girl confirmed to be one of Lily's classmates is Mary McDonald and she's not part of the Order (and I choose to believe that she wasn't; she sympathised, maybe, but I like the headcanon that she's so scarred by Mulciber and Avery's bullying - and that the event that Lily references to Severus is not the only time they use Dark Magic on her - that she wants nothing to do with the fight). I am maybe one of the two (2) people with a mild appreciation for BlackKinnon, and I don't mind Marlene as someone in the same age bracket as them (but I can also see her being older). She is murdered along her entire family, though, and it's unclear whether she was a mother, a sister, or a daughter. I will say that some of their Hogwarts years overlapped.

Dorcas I find way less likely. She was killed by Voldemort himself - the man wouldn't have bothered if she wasn't an Amelia Bones-level witch at least, which means she was mighty, which means she most likely wasn't twenty-one. I like to think that she was an Auror, or a Ministry high-ranking employee with sound principles that just would not bend to the infiltration of the DEs in the Ministry or to Barty Crouch Snr's ruthlessness.

Frank and Alice Longbottom are the same, to me. They're older than the Marauders, I would make them (just like Dorcas) around Bellatrix's age, maybe even older. That makes them around 30yrs old in 1981. Which means they would have had a full decade or more to become the most respected Aurors in the Wizarding World, so well known that what happened to them sparked major outrage, the kind that led to a manhunt for their torturers, and the sentencing of a pleading nineteen-year-old boy. (Of course, Barty jr was guilty, but they didn't know that, didn't know just how loyal to Voldemort he truly was. The Lestranges sentencing - an old wizarding family, a Lestrange had even been Minister for Magic - was clearly one sparked by public outrage. People were crying out for their blood.)

The Prewetts were Molly's older brothers, so they were way older than the Marauders. They were also killed by a group of Death Eaters led by Antonin Dolohov after what appears to have been a truly brutal fight, so nope. They weren't the Fred and George types of the Marauders Era (also. the Marauders were that!)

Edgar Bones had a wife and children and was considered to be one of the best of the era, so I doubt he was as young as the Fantastic Four. We really don't know enough about Caradoc Dearborn or Benji Fenwick to say, but I somehow doubt it.

Of those who survived.

We know that Albus, Aberforth, Moody, Elphias Doge, Mundungus, and Arabella Figg are all way older than the Marauders, and I've always pictured Dedalus Diggle as a middle aged man (but we only know he's tiny and excitable, so it could go either way). Sturgis Podmore's description fits someone that could have been in the Marauder's year or maybe slightly older, but still one of their peers.

So, really, the green-faced youths that fought with the Order were: the four Marauders, Lily, maybe Marlene and Emmeline Vance (who isn't even listed as fighting with them in the First War, only the second), and maybe Sturgis Podmore. On the side of the Death Eaters: Avery, Mulciber, Barty Crouch jr (who was two/three years younger than the Marauders!!!), Regulus Black and of course Severus Snape.

And, no. Evan Rosier's age is never disclosed, and since he brutally maims fucking Alastor Moody - possibly the greatest Auror ever - I'm inclined to believe that he was at least Bellatrix's age (so 8-9 years older than the Marauders). In my personal headcanon he's even a tad older - but no less cuntier for it. My boy serves as much cunt at 27 as he did at 17 (<3).

#hp headcanons #hp meta #the marauders #james potter #sirius black #remus lupin #peter pettigrew #lily evans #marlene mckinnon #dorcas meadows #first wizarding war #evan rosier #death eaters #order of the phoenix #god there are so many people to tag i don't know if i can do it #severus snape #asks #answered

56 notes · View notes

hollowed-theory-hall · 1 month

Text

The Riddle of Tom Riddle: Part 7/7

(Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6)

The Rise and Fall of Lord Voldemort (the second coming)

The final installment will explain some of Voldemort's odd behavior in the books themselves — from the ludicrous plan that was Goblet of Fire, to why he wasn't involved in the war and what he actually was trying to accomplish.

Alongside that, I want to make note of a few other interesting facets of Voldemort's character by the time we meet him in the books.

What the Hell was he Planning in GOF?

So, a lot of fans poke fun at Tom for the over-convoluted mess that was GOF. Because, really, there are so many moving parts here and so many failure points... and there's literally no reason to wait the whole year when Barty (Moody) could just pluck Harry whenever. I mean, it would've been better to just kidnap him on one of the chances Barty had access to Harry alone throughout the year, why the wait?

Well, I believe the plan in book 4, was not Voldemort's plan, but Barty's. And I have some evidence of what Voldemort had planned:

There was a pause, and then the man called Wormtail spoke again. “My Lord, may I ask how long we are going to stay here?” “A week,” said the cold voice. “Perhaps longer…

(Goblet of Fire, page 23)

Early on in the book, before Barty returns to his service, Tom makes the above comment. He isn't planning on staying in Riddle Manor for long. He's talking about a week, maybe a month, not a whole year. Whatever plan he had to retrieve Harry was not a year-long plan at the beginning of the book.

“Because, fool, at this very moment wizards are pouring into the country from all over the world, and every meddler from the Ministry of Magic will be on duty, on the watch for signs of unusual activity, checking and double-checking identities. They will be obsessed with security, lest the Muggles notice anything. So we wait.”

(Goblet of Fire, page 24)

And the reason for this few weeks' wait is the World Cup. Voldemort planned on waiting until the Quidditch World Cup was over and then had Pettigrew kidnap Harry somehow before Hogwarts (this conversation is in early August).

“I have my reasons for using the boy, as I have already explained to you, and I will use no other. I have waited thirteen years. A few more months will make no difference. As for the protection surrounding the boy, I believe my plan will be effective.

(Goblet of Fire, page 26)

And he makes it clear the plan is to use Harry for the ritual, but he's still talking about a few months max of delay, not a whole year. So what changed?

Barty did. Barty came along after the Quidditch World Cup and changed the plan to retrieve Harry. And why would Barty take this long?

Well, I have a post in the works about Barty Crouch Jr. that would explain just that and more. But for now, what I can say, is that the GOF plan was more Barty's than Voldemort's.

As for Voldemort's reasons for using Harry in the ritual, well, there are two reasons here:

Lily's blood protection - which Voldemort wishes to circumvent

His unhealthy obsession with Harry Potter that I talk about more in this post.

Objective in the War

So, as I covered here, Voldemort wasn't really taking an active part in the Second Wizarding World (if he was Umbridge wouldn't have been able to strut around with Slytherin's locket). So if he isn't involved in the war, what is he doing? Why did he start the war?

Well, in the first war, Voldemort's objective was magical experimentation and discovery, in the second his goals are quite different. It's seen in how much more chaotic the war is. Voldemort's goal is so much more personal and emotional to him, that he doesn't care how much collateral damage his Death Eaters cause in the second war. Because of the second war, Tom is less mentally stable than the first one. But not due to some Dark Magic bullshit, but due to his actual psychological state.

As I already covered in the past posts in this series, Tom is a perfectionist. Tom Marvolo Riddle doesn't do failure. He had 12 NWETS, all Os, he was prefect and head boy. Saying he doesn't like failing is an understatement. Honestly, I'd say failure is the one thing this man fears and hates more than death.

And what is his one failure in his perfect track record of Os and victories?

It's Harry Potter.

Harry Potter, whose very moniker: "The Boy Who Lived" mocks this very failure. Failing to kill Harry Potter.

This leads us to what Voldemort is doing in the second war: Attempting to kill Harry Potter like nothing else exists. Which leads us to the next section:

Obsession With Harry Potter

I don't feel like people realize just how obsessed Voldemort is with Harry. How much Harry is literally the only thing Voldemort cares about in the second war. More than his Death Eaters, more than the ministry, even more than his life.

Throughout his resurrection scene, we have a few interesting moments, I'm not going to cover all of them, but I wanna talk about these two:

“A little break,” said Voldemort, the slit-like nostrils dilating with excitement, “a little pause . . . That hurt, didn’t it, Harry? You don’t want me to do that again, do you?”

(Goblet of Fire, page 661)

“We are not playing hide-and-seek, Harry,” said Voldemort’s soft, cold voice, drawing nearer, as the Death Eaters laughed. “You cannot hide from me. Does this mean you are tired of our duel? Does this mean that you would prefer me to finish it now, Harry? Come out, Harry . . . come out and play, then . . . it will be quick . . . it might even be painless . . . I would not know . . . I have never died. . . .

(Goblet of Fire, page 662)

Both of these are moments I call: "playing with his food". He's playing with Harry, toying with him, and actually seems to honestly enjoy himself playing around and torturing and terrifying Harry. This is interesting because Voldemort doesn't toy around with his enemies, like, ever. He tortures and gloats in front of his Death Eaters, but not in front of enemies, with enemies he does the logical thing — try to kill them as quickly as possible.

Except with Harry. Why?

Because Harry is different. He's a whole different category for Voldemort.

Voldemort doesn't really see Harry as a person, not really, he sees him as a failure. His own failure. Harry Potter, to Voldemort, is that one slightly wrong answer in an exam that lost him the two points he needed for that perfect O. Harry is a stain on his perfect record, and therefore Voldemort treats him as such, and not as an actual person.

“Do nothing!” Voldemort shrieked to the Death Eaters, and Harry saw his red eyes wide with astonishment at what was happening, saw him fighting to break the thread of light still connecting his wand with Harry’s; Harry held onto his wand more tightly, with both hands, and the golden thread remained unbroken. “Do nothing unless I command you!” Voldemort shouted to the Death Eaters.

….

Voldemort who looked astonished, and almost fearful. . . .

(Goblet of Fire, page 664)

This is when Voldemort starts taking Harry seriously. I mentioned he didn't really believe the prophecy, well, he didn't until the graveyard when his and Harry's wands met. That fear, that's real, this is when Harry becomes a threat and not only a failure.

Additionally, we see here something Voldemort will continue doing throughout the war. Harry — well, killing Harry — is the only thing Voldemort cares about in the Second War, but it's more than that. because Harry is his failure only he is allowed to kill Harry. He doesn't care who kills Dumbledore, but only he is allowed to kill Harry even in the later books.

In OOTP, what is Voldemort doing? He's sending Death Eaters to retrieve the prophecy. Why? Because now he knows it and Harry is a real threat. It's not about the war, it's all about Harry and the prophecy connecting them. He hopes it'll tell him how to kill Harry.

In HBP, Voldemort isn't really present either. He doesn't care what his Death Eaters do, he isn't expecting Malfoy to succeed in killing Dumbledore. He only cares about figuring out what happened with his and Harry's wands because Voldemort needs to be the one to kill Harry Potter with his own wand, otherwise, he wouldn't really be rectifying his failure. In his mind.

“My Lord, the Order of the Phoenix intends to move Harry Potter from his current place of safety on Saturday next, at nightfall.” The interest around the table sharpened palpably; Some stiffened, others fidgeted, all gazing at Snape and Voldemort. “Saturday . . . at nightfall,” repeated Voldemort. His red eyes fastened upon Snape’s black ones with such intensity that some of the watchers looked away, apparently fearful that they themselves would be scorched by the ferocity of the gaze.

(Deathly Hollows, page 9)

Even when the war is in full swing by Deathly Hollows, Voldemort doesn't care for the war. He wasn't even in Britain for most of it. But when it comes to Harry Potter, a chance to kill Harry potter, for that Voldemort would grace his followers with his presence. But if it has nothing to do with Harry, he just won't be interested.

Voldemort looked up at the slowly revolving body as he went on, “ I shall attend to the boy in person. There have been too many mistakes where Harry Potter is concerned. Some of them have been my own. That Potter lives is due more to my errors than to his triumphs.” The company around the table watched Voldemort apprehensively, each of them, but his or her expression, afraid that they might be blamed for Harry Potter’s continued existence. Voldemort, however, seemed to be speaking more to himself than to any of them, still addressing the unconscious body above him. “I have been careless, and so have been thwarted by luck and chance, those wreckers of all but the best-laid plans. But I know better now. I understand those things that I did not understand before. I must be the one to kill Harry Potter, and I shall be.”

(Deathly Hollows, page 11)

here, again, Voldemort explains what I just said. He sees Harry as his failure, his error, his mistake, And Tom Riddle despises nothing more than a mistake.

And he explains why that, the fact Harry is alive is due to his mistakes, that he has to be the one to kill him. Voldemort doesn't care about winning the war, or the ministry, or his followers — he just needs to cast a killing curse at Harry and kill him. To rectify that one mistake.

More, Rowle, or shall we end it and feed you to Nagini? Lord Voldemort is not sure that he will forgive this time. . . . You called me back for this, to tell me that Harry Potter has escaped again? Draco, give Rowle another taste of our displeasure. . . . Do it, or feel my wrath yourself!”

(Deathly Hollows, page 152)

Again, Voldemort isn't in Britain, but when his followers informed him they had Harry Potter, he dropped everything and arrived in Britain. Because killing Harry is literally the only thing that matters to him by this point.

“Give me Harry Potter,” said Voldemort’s voice, “and none shall be harmed. Give me Harry Potter, and I shall leave the school untouched. Give me Harry Potter, and you should be rewarded. “You have until midnight.”

(Deathly Hollows, page 516)

And we see it again, nothing matters, no victory matters, besides killing Harry Potter.

“My wand of yew did everything of which I asked it, Severus, except to kill Harry Potter. Twice it failed. Ollivander told me under torture of the twin cores, told me to take another’s wand. I did so, but Lucius’s wand shattered upon meeting Potter’s.”

(Deathly Hollows, page 553)

Here he describes what he's been doing for the entirety of books 6 and 7. Trying to find a wand so he could kill Harry with it. Because that's the only thing that mattered to him. It's why he kidnapped and tortured Ollivanders. It's why he traveled to Germany to track down the Elder Wand. It's why he's killing Severus in this above scene.

And here again, there is an emphasis on failure, mistakes, that his wand failed him. Because that's what Harry is to him — a failure.

Because he wants to kill Harry himself with a wand. This obsession is the thing fueling all his actions in the Second War.

And still, Voldemort and Harry looked at each other, and now Voldemort tilted his head a little to the side, considering the boy standing before him, and a singularly mirthless smile curled the lipless mouth. “Harry Potter,” he said very softly His voice might have been part of the splitting fire. “The Boy Who Lived.” None of the Death Eaters moved. They were waiting: Everything was waiting. Hagrid was struggling, and Bellatrix was panting, and Harry thought inexplicably of Ginny, and her blazing look, and the feel of her lips on his— Voldemort had raised his wand. His head was still tilted to one side, like a curious child, wondering what would happen if he proceeded.

(Deathly Hollows, page 593)

And when he finally does get what he wants, he's happy, curious, and warry. He doesn't fully believe Harry would actually die (which he doesn't).

I just love this description, his head a little to the side like a curious child. Because he is childish in a way at this moment. He finally can rectify the one stain on his perfect record and he could barely believe it really is happening.

Unlike in the graveyard, here he isn't gloating. Contrary to his words, about how Harry only survived by luck, he does fear Harry. Well, his survival. Voldemort actually does believe the prophecy by this point, that there's something more than his own failure stopping him from killing Harry — and keeping him dead.

Because it's easy to believe, almost comforting even, that it's not just his mistakes.

“Yeah, it did,” said Harry. “You’re right. But before you try to kill me, I’d advise you to think about what you’ve done. . . . Think, and try for some remorse, Riddle. . . .” “What is this?” Of all the things that Harry had said to him, beyond any revelation or taunt, nothing had shocked Voldemort like this. Harry saw his pupils contact to thin slits, saw the skin around his eyes whiten. “It’s your one last chance,” said Harry, “it’s all you’ve got left. . . . I’ve seen what you’ll be otherwise. . . . Be a man . . . try . . . Try for some remorse. . . .” “You dare—?” said Voldemort again. “Yes, I dare,” said Harry, “because Dumbledore’s last plan hasn’t backfired on me at all. It’s backfired on you, Riddle.” Voldemort’s hand was trembling on the Elder Wand, and Harry gripped Draco’s very tightly. The moment, he knew, was seconds away.

(Deathly Hollows, page 625)

Right before his death, Harry gloats at him about his mistakes, and how wrong he got it all.

And there is nothing Tom Riddle hates more.

Other Notes

Now, I want to cover a few other smaller notes about Voldemort's character that just didn't really fit anywhere else:

Voldemort in the books almost never shouts. He is described as speaking: "softly" because he doesn't need to be loud. He's intimidating just by his presence alone, when he speaks, everyone shuts up and listens:

“We are not playing hide-and-seek, Harry,” said Voldemort’s soft, cold voice, drawing nearer, as the Death Eaters laughed.

(Goblet of Fire, page 662)

2. As I mentioned before in this series, Voldemort is sentimental. His own past and family, even when they hated him, he cares. He cares so much that his father's abandonment still hurts decades later:

“You stand, Harry Potter, upon the remains of my late father,” he hissed softly. “A Muggle and a fool . . . very like your dear mother. But they both had their uses, did they not? Your mother died to defend you as a child . . . and I killed my father, and see how useful he has proved himself, in death. . . .” Voldemort laughed again. Up and down he paced, looking all around him as he walked, and the snake continued to circle in the grass. “You see that house upon the hillside, Potter? My father lived there. My mother, a witch who lived here in this village, fell in love with him. But he abandoned her when she told him what she was. . . . He didn’t like magic, my father . . . “He left her and returned to his Muggle parents before I was even born, Potter, and she died giving birth to me, leaving me to be raised in a Muggle orphanage . . . but I vowed to find him . . . I revenged myself upon him, that fool who gave me his name . . . Tom Riddle. . . .” Still he paced, his red eyes darting from grave to grave. “Listen to me, reliving family history . . .” he said quietly, “why, I am growing quite sentimental. . . . But look, Harry! My true family returns. . . .”

(Goblet of Fire, page 646)

3. He loves to monologue. I think he just honestly enjoyed hearing himself talk:

“I see you all, whole and healthy, with your powers intact — such prompt appearances! — and I ask myself . . . why did this band of wizards never come to the aid of their master, to whom they swore eternal loyalty?” No one spoke. No one moved except Wormtail, who was upon the ground, still sobbing over his bleeding arm. “And I answer myself,” whispered Voldemort, “they must have believed me broken, they thought I was gone. They slipped back among my enemies, and they pleaded innocence, and ignorance, and bewitchment. . . . “And then I ask myself, but how could they have believed I would not rise again? They, who knew the steps I took, long ago, to guard myself against mortal death? They, who had seen proofs of the immensity of my power in the times when I was mightier than any wizard living? “And I answer myself, perhaps they believed a still greater power could exist, one that could vanquish even Lord Voldemort . . . perhaps they now pay allegiance to another . . . perhaps that champion of commoners, of Mudbloods and Muggles, Albus Dumbledore?” At the mention of Dumbledore’s name, the members of the circle stirred, and some muttered and shook their heads. Voldemort ignored them. “It is a disappointment to me . . . I confess myself disappointed. . . .”

(Goblet of Fire, page 648)

Also I can't help but find this scene funny. "And I ask myself" — "and I answer myself", Tom's just having fun toying with his followers and their fear here (pulse being dramatic). He, in general, does have a sense of fun. He even makes stupid puns:

“I knew that to achieve this — it is an old piece of Dark Magic, the potion that revived me tonight — I would need three powerful ingredients. Well, one of them was already at hand, was it not, Wormtail? Flesh given by a servant. . . .

(Goblet of Fire, page 656)

He's way funnier than we give him credit (and dorkier).

4. I mentioned he didn't plan to truly live forever in a past post, after all, if he did, he would've hidden his Horcruxes better. And yet, he despises the very idea of death:

“You do not seek to kill me, Dumbledore?” called Voldemort, his scarlet eyes narrowed over the top of the shield. “Above such brutality, are you?” “We both know that there are other ways of destroying a man, Tom,” Dumbledore said calmly, continuing to walk toward Voldemort as though he had not a fear in the world, as though nothing had happened to interrupt his stroll up the hall. “Merely taking your life would not satisfy me, I admit —” “There is nothing worse than death, Dumbledore!” snarled Voldemort.

(Order of the Pheonix, page 812)

Voldemort is still, at this moment, is still the orphan at the bomb shelters who doesn't want to die. Death is the worst thing to him because death means everything is over, that he had his chance at life and that's it. Death is the end of the road. It's the ultimate failing, the ultimate loss — something to overcome. At least in Voldemort's mind. Because Tom doesn't do failure. His hatred of death is exasperated by his perfectionism and because of how he sees death.

But even so, he made sure to leave an opening, a chance for him to die if he ever desired it.

Conclusions

The only thing Voldemort cared about in the Second War was killing Harry. Killing Harry Potter was the end goal that motivated all his actions.

He's a perfectionist more than anything else. Dumbledore said Tom feared death the most, but I disagree. What he feared most id failure — his own failure — death was an extension of that, in a way.

Voldemort doesn't need to raise his voice, the fact he speaks softly is a testament to how terrifying he is to others.

He's quite sentimental. I mentioned it before and I'll mention it again.

He has a sense of humor and actually loves to talk and hear his own voice.

#harry potter #harry potter thoughts #harry potter theory #hp theory #wizarding world #hollowedtheory #overthinking #hp #lord voldemort #voldemort #voldemort analysis #tom riddle #tom marvolo riddle #slytherin #first wizarding war #death eaters #hp thoughts #hp meta #harry potter meta

40 notes · View notes

jamesunderwater · 3 months

Text

Call and Response (6685 words) by itsjamespotter

Chapters: 5/5 Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Sirius Black & James Potter, Remus Lupin & James Potter, James Potter & Lily Evans Potter, James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Peter Pettigrew & James Potter, Euphemia Potter & James Potter

Summary:

A series of vignettes showcasing how, despite his own personal tragedies, James Potter never fails to show up for the ones he loves – which might be his greatest strength and his greatest weakness. Set in a world where James and Lily never got together in school, the Marauders, now twenty, are fighting in the Order at the height of the war. Consider this my love letter to James “would have died rather than betray his friends,” “would have regarded it the height of dishonor to mistrust his friends,” “until the very end” Potter.

#james potter #sirius black #the marauders #jily #lily evans #first wizarding war #marauders fic #marauders fanfic #james potter fic #james potter fanfiction #jple #jily fic #my writing #jily*#hp #remus lupin #peter pettigrew

51 notes · View notes

expectopatronum81 · 2 months

Text

Unpopular opinion

Ron and/or Hermione should have died in the deathly hallows. And I say this as someone who loves these characters (probably Hermione more than Ron), but here me out

Now let's be fucking real, I really like ron, but he really wasn't skilled or prepared enough to fight in a war against voldemort, be it magically or mentally. And that's ok! He's still 17, he's not meant to be fighting a war. And to some degree he probably knew that the chances of him actually making it were pretty slim too. But he still stuck with Harry anyways coz there's no way he was going to let his best friend go through with this alone. Because that's who ron is, he'd rather die fighting beside his best friend, for his family, his muggleborn gf and for the cause than play it safe and hide.

Now coming to Hermione, things get a tad trickier here. Yes, she is very skilled and powerful and quick on her feet. But is she powerful enough to take on an army of adult DEs who've trained for years and have experience from the first wizarding war? To win against the darkest wizard who ever lived, who's said to be worse than Grindelwald, who's the most powerful wizard in the whole world after Dumbledore? No, I'd say she isn't. Because she's also fucking 17, she's not even done with school yet. But I think she'd live longer than Ron, or that there's a better chance of her making it out alive. But if she did die it would be extra heartbreaking coz a) Harry (and the readers) just lost 2 of the people who had been there from the very beginning, b) Hermione's parents would live on in Australia, not remembering that they had a daughter, not knowing that their daughter gave her life in hopes of saving her friend and creating a better world.

I majorly have 2 specific reasons for being this sadistic. The first one is the fact that the plot dumbs down it's main villain and his followers just to make the kids win. Voldemort (during Harry's time) is probably the dumbest villain ever written, he doesn't live up to his hype. People have already discussed how stupid his gof plan was. In ootp, during the DoM fight Lucius says that voldemort can't come get the prophecy himself coz the ministry is filled with ppl and he would risk revealing himself. But it's possible for 6 mostly dumb teenagers and an army of DEs, (who hv just escaped azkaban and are sought after by the ministry) to enter in undetected? Doesn't 👏 make 👏 any 👏 sense. The supposedly feared DEs who were trained by voldemort himself can't win against a group of teenagers. It's surprising how long it takes them to take the kids down in the DoM battle. The thing is though, this is out of character for ALL of them. It seems like they were dumbed down just so the MCs could make it out alive. Voldemort during the first WW started out as absolutely no one to having the highest class of the wizarding society obeying his every command. The whole wizarding world was so afraid of him that they wouldn't even say his name. The DEs picked out member after member of the original ootp, mostly coz they were outnumbered but also coz they're fucking death eaters. And ur telling me these guys can't fight kids? Pathetic. Also it doesn't make sense that most of the adults from the first war are dead but all the kids live. Like did the war become safer or sm shit? Instead i would have loved it if the trio got away with things in the first few books, but then realised what a war against voldemort actually means later on. But they won't back down, and they'll still stick with their friend and fight for each other and the cause anyways, and that vil have real, legitimate consequences

Now, the second reason is that it would have been an amazing but heartbreaking callback to book 1. Ron sacrifices himself in a game of chess and Hermione says that there are more important things than books and cleverness, like friendship and bravery. Ron's line of "It's you who has to go on Harry, I know it! Not me, not Hermione, you!" would have also come full circle. Back then they were still 11, so they could still get their happy ending. Now they're in a real war and the stakes are higher, but they'll stick to what they started anyways. Ron sacrifices himself so the other 2 can move forwards, Hermione's intelligence gets her further but she still needs to part with Harry. Harry needs to leave them behind and face voldemort alone because that's how it was always meant to be

And finally, it would have given us a more bittersweet ending to the series instead of that vanilla 'all is well' epilogue. Harry has lost almost every one he loved. But there's still life, there's still hope, and he lives by cherishing their memories and making their sacrifice have meaning. Kinda like the ending of the hunger games. Ik this is a kids book, but Harry Potter as a series is incredibly deep and deals with a lot of fucked up shit, so I think it could handle it if it was written well.

Thank you for coming to my TedTalk

30 notes · View notes

oasis-of-stars-4 · 4 months

Text

Barty: Hey, wanna help me commit arson? Dorcas: What the hell!? Barty: Oh, sorry, my bad. Barty, whispering: Wanna help me commit arson? Dorcas, whispering: Of course. What do you need?

89 notes · View notes

cherry-pop-elf · 1 month

Text

Every Perfect Curve

George Weasley x Chubby Reader

You had given birth to your sweet little Freddy a while ago. While finally having a moment to yourself, you can’t help but feel self conscious that you haven’t ’bounced back’ like so many others have. George is there to remind you that you are just stunning. Even if you never ‘bounce back’ as they say

Warnings: 16+, Body Dysphoria, Trans Masc coded but over all discussion of weight gain, flirting, sexual content ((no sex)) nursing, postpartum, After The Deathly Hallows Content, Pregnancy

Writing Coms Open

“This used to fit-!” You sniffled, as you were fighting with your body. Trying so hard to get your pants on. You haven’t worn pants since your second trimester. You wanted to wear pants again, but it doesn’t seem like that will happen. You couldn’t even get them past your thighs. It was so frustrating, how much weight you had gained.

“Jellybean, you just had a baby. You think Mum is built like a string bean like the kids she popped out?” George tried to explain, as he was undoing his suit jacket. So happy to have the work day done with, and finally spend some time with his family. You, little Freddy, and Bill with his own pregnant wife.

Since after the war, Bill figured to return back to Gringotts. Stable job, close to George, well paying, and those goblins actually gave him medically paid vacation leave for every time the week of the full moon was coming. It was perfect. Also, he won’t lie, was nice to have a part time job at WWW. Everything was perfect, besides well….The hormones.

“But she had seven kids! I just had one-!” You sniffled. Luckily, George was a fourth kid of seven. He knows a thing or two about someone with hormones. Especially ones with postpartum. Molly had caught some after Ron, funny enough. He knew not to poke the bear, too much.

Before he could stop you, you were already crying. “I’m so fat-! Look at my chest! Look at my thighs! I’m covered in stretch marks, and I can’t wear clothes right anymore! I’m bigger than a inflatus charm! How can you even stand the sight of me?!” You sobbed, as those hormones were just destroying your head space. He let you scream it out, having long since casted a silencing charm on your shared bedroom. Just letting you scream it out. Better out than in.

“Jellybean-“ He cooed, as he would leave himself in his dress shirt now. He would sneak behind you, and wrapped his arms around your stomach. Happily tracing over your stretch marks, and resting his head on yours. Just looking into the mirror, and seeing you struggle. Wet tears and all. He didn’t see what you saw. He saw someone he loved. Every inch of you was devine. Every stretch mark, roll, and sag. That was you.

“Jeans are uncomfortable anyway.” He tried to joke with you, as he scratched his finger on the rough denim. Going to make a disgusted face at the texture. Despite your tears, you couldn’t stop your smile. Damn him. He always found a way. You hated how he made you smile, as you now over thought. Were you crying for attention now? Were you making a big deal out of nothing? Luckily, your husband was quick to distract you from such scary thoughts.

“Come on. You like my pants anyway.” He added. Given how tall he was, the fabric was able to stretch around you easier. You didn’t even have a chance to argue, before he found a pair of his old pajama pants. You figured not to fight him, and soon sat on the edge of the bed. He pulled the jeans off, and helped you into the old soft fabric. Just pampering you. Kissing those newly soft features, and admiring you. Kissing that belly, that took care of your shared little boy. Admired those thighs, and appreciated those stretch marks from that hard working body.

“Much better?” He asked, as they were able to properly fit. Given the height, there was plenty of fabric over your stomach. Enough to even pull the plaid high enough to not drag on the ground. He even worked on making sure you had some nice warm socks, so you didn’t get chilly. Making sure you were as cared for as you deserved.

“Shut up.” You huffed, but he knew you were just frustrated with your body. He knew what that was like. Losing an ear sure makes life hell. If anyone can relate to hating your own body, it’s him. He would let you be frustrated, as he tried to make sure you were comfortable. Seems your top wouldn’t be next, as you two heard noises from the living room.

“ACK-! FLEUR HELP-!” Bill shouted, followed by the devious giggles of your son. Next were the sweet giggles of the Half Veela, as she was most likely working on saving her partial werewolf groom. The giggles of your son gave you a brief smile, but your eyes were on your body again.

“Hey, look at me-“ George would soon cup your face, so to make sure you stopped looking at yourself. “You have a body of a mother, a parent. All this squish was used to make sure our little boy was born happy and healthy.” He tried to reassure you, with a kiss to your lips. With his face with yours, he reached to his dress shirt. He took it off, and soon slipped it on you. He left it unbuttoned, so your sore breasts didn’t get more irritated. Yet still feel somewhat covered.

“And these-“ He gently touched said breasts, making sure to not irritated your sore nipples. “These are big because someone here eats like a Weasley. Playing with them more than me! That little bugger-“ And you laughed. He got you to laugh, and he was grinning with pride.

Speaking of hungry, a shrill cry was soon from the living room. “He eats like a Weasley alright-“ You sighed, but felt a bit more confident now. He was right. You were big because Freddy needed a lot of nutrients. Your breasts were large because he needed to eat a lot. Your body was built for your son to thrive. Being squishy wasn’t so bad. Right?

The both of you were quick to come to your living room, and soon seen Bill trying his best to distract Freddy from his hungry belly. Tickling him, and making little animal sounds. That seemed to entertain the little ginger, as he cooed. Fleur was even doing the same, as she sat with him. The wolf, and the harpy. Chirps and barks.

“His first words are going to be growls, knock it off-!” George would, playfully, say. That made them look over. Bill was quick to cover his eye, given the other one was blind, as to give you privacy. Despite the fact he had seen you nurse before. You still appreciated the gesture, regardless.

“Oh hush-“ Fleur tsked, before she would hoist herself up. Using the side of the couch for support, as so to make sure you had all the space on the couch to feed your son on. You wanted to tell her she didn’t have to, but she was in that Tri Wizard Tournament for a reason. She knows how to be strong.

“Come here, sweetie-“ You shushed, as Bill handed you your son. Those big eyes of his just glowing, and his chubby little fingers reaching for you. Your eyes, and George’s hair. Such a sweet thing. Seeing those chubby hands made you think about your chubby figure. Much like he will, you’ll out grow yours one day. If not? Well, least you know you’ll use it to make sure your son is taken care of. Because that soft body was soothing his upset stomach already. Just snuggled into your warm breasts.

“When will I get a turn?” George asked, as you smacked his shoulder. “Hey-!” He whined, as you rolled your eyes. You would soon be on the couch, and brought your legs up. Left to rest in your husbands lap, as Bill got you some pillows for your back. Your husband rubbing your feet, as you let Freddy nurse. Gentle with his fluffy ginger hair, and admiring him.

“Oh he is so handsome-“ Fleur cooed, as she watched. She was due any time now, as well. Having her watch you nurse was very useful for her. That also made you feel better. If you didn’t get so chubby, Fleur wouldn’t get to see what would happen with her. To see how much it helps with her soon to be child. Maybe being larger wasn’t as ugly as you thought. There was so much beauty in it. Beauty in using what you had to help others.

“Hungry thing.” Bill snorted, as his wife gently smacked his own arm. “If not for the hair, that appetite says Weasley all over it.” George echoed. You rolled your eyes, as your son kept nursing away. Needing to stuff his belly full. Was ages, but he finally was satisfied. With a cloth over your shoulder, you would gently burp him.

“He’s picking up signlaguge so quickly. Swear he will be better at it than me before he’s even two-!” George scoffed, but those eyes were sparkling. He was proud of his smart baby boy. “And soon French-“ Fleur echoed. “Arabic ain’t that bad-“ Bill tagged in. “And of course Romanian.” You vouched for Charlie. “Smart ass baby.” George snorted, before you kicked his thigh.

This moment was soothing. All just parents, together, with your children. Gentle learning for Fleur, and comfort. George was right. Your body was built for something. It was built to take care of your baby boy, and help Fleur learn how to treat her own baby. Being chubby wasn’t a sin. Just as much as being skinny and muscular had its benefits, so did being soft and squishy.

“There we go-“ You smiled, as he gave his little burp. “Much better, hm?” You smiled, as you would bring him to lay on your chest. Just like that, he was knocked out. Sleeping soundly, on your soft breasts. Listening to your heart beat, and able to take a well deserved nap.

“He got that from Fred. That was the only way we could tell you two apart. Whenever Fred was done feeding, he knocked right out. You? You got more energy, and got so excited you ended up throwing up.” Bill chuckled, as that seemed to comfort George. He missed his Fred, but knowing a part of him was still around made him smile. His hand ever so gentle on his son’s back, as he gently rubbed your own stomach. Admiring your stretch marks.

“This might be soon, but do you think-?” George questioned, as he kept tracing the indents in your skin. Another kid, already? You couldn’t blame him, though. He was a magical identical twin. The idea of growing up an only child sounded horrifying. Bro to mention big families is all he knew. Maybe…..

You looked to your sleeping son, and your own body. A smile crossed your lips, as you soon help George’s hand. “Plenty of nutrients for a round two, huh?” You joked. You were able to joke about your own body, and that cleared any worry George had. The two of you were financially fine, and had plenty of support.

He kissed your lips, before kissing your son’s head. A tiny little smile crossed those chubby little cheeks, and you had to wonder why you ever thought chubby cheeks could be so horrible. Your son had the prettiest cheeks around, and you hoped your next kid could have them all the same. Pretty, chubby, features.

24 notes · View notes